by Megan Marple
“Don’t say that.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Just because it’s ugly doesn’t make it any less real. My name’s been on the list the moment I stepped foot into Enoch’s place. Now it’s just about trying to dodge the swing of the ax.”
“No. It’s not real because no one is going to have the chance to hurt you, regardless. I won’t let them.” And I meant it with every part of me. The real truth was that even though his actions made me want to throttle him and lock him up for his own sake, I loved my brother deeply and I refused to accept his self-inflicted fate. Not without putting up a fight.
Tristan sank into the sofa next to me, letting Jax investigate him by his usual method of sniffing him.
“Ah. The boy is back. I don’t suppose you’ve got any of those sweet crisps on you, have you?”
Oisín stood in between the kitchen and living room, his black, bushy tail flicking back and forth. There was an amused expression on his face that told me he was pleased to see Tristan despite his air of indifference.
Tristan regarded him with the same amused look. “It’s good to see you, too, Osh. Remind me next time I’m hiding out in someone’s shed for weeks, to bring snacks.”
All the food talk had my own stomach growling, and I stood up to stretch. “I’m going to go get us some sweet tea. Be right back.”
“Sweet tea? Should I even ask?” he called out.
Making sure he couldn’t see what exactly I was up to, I twirled my finger around until the pitcher of cold sweet tea flew out of the refrigerator and into my hand before I knew what I was doing. It seemed the pendant liked whatever magic I wanted to use with it, no matter how insignificant. I poured two glasses full and sent the pitcher zooming carefully back inside, turning to see that Tristan’s eyebrows were cocked funny. So much for that.
There was no doubt in my mind that Tristan knew what the pendant was and maybe even how I got a hold of it, but the good thing about him was that he usually had the capability of sitting on things for a while before mentioning them.
“So. Uncle G. He’s taking it pretty badly, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know. He’s not exactly very forthcoming with me anymore. But if I had to make an educated guess, then yes, probably. I don’t think he has even the slightest clue that you had plans to turn your information and contacts over to him. He believes you really went off the deep end.”
Tristan let out a humorless laugh. “Of course he does. But on the bright side—he bought it. So, there’s no reason to think that anyone suspects me of working for the MARC.”
“Does that really matter, though? They think you killed Enoch. Isn’t that even worse?”
He shook his head. “They take their loyalty very seriously in the Dark Market. They can understand the reasoning behind treachery to different bosses, but to the market as a whole? A snitch witch doesn’t last long there.”
He explained to me what his time working in the Dark Market was like, leaving out some key details I was sure, but it was his prerogative. I even mentioned my own recent adventure back into Spell Haven.
“It sounds like we’ve both been pretty busy lately,” he mused, finishing up the last of his tea with relish.
“If by lately, you mean the past fourteen years, then yes,” I laughed, settling back into the sofa more as I turned to face my brother full-on.
As angry as I’d been, most of it had completely melted away until all I felt was relief that he was okay.
32
I shoved the plate toward Tristan. “Eat.”
“What’s this? Some sort of . . . meat?” He eyed the BLT warily.
“My dear brother, you have a lot to learn about this world. For example,” I said, pulling off a piece from my own sandwich, “this is bacon. What can I say about bacon? Only that it’s the most delicious thing ever. Go ahead and try some.” I waved the crispy bite around before tossing it into my mouth, instantly satisfied.
“Did you just say bacon?” Oisín drawled as he jumped up on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air. “It’s truly a tragedy that Fi has banned meat in this household. I’ve missed it so.”
“Careful not to get your paws all over the food, Osh,” I mumbled through another mouthful.
Tristan glanced between the two of us and shrugged, holding the sandwich up to his stubbly face one more time to inspect it before finally taking a bite. He chewed slowly at first, but his eyes went wide, and I knew he understood.
“Whoa. I don’t know what’s more shocking—how delicious this bacon is, or the fact that you cooked it.”
Oisín snickered and swiped his paw at the remaining piece of bacon still on the plate.
Pursing my lips together, I ignored them and bit into my sandwich.
With everything still up in the air at the MARC headquarters, I wanted my brother to take a little bit of time to lie low before we showed up out of the blue. After all, I needed to get him all cleaned up and properly fed so that he looked a little less… suspect. Monday, at the latest, surely.
Tristan nearly jumped out of his own skin when my phone went off beside him, the screen showing it was “G” calling from work. I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I answered.
“Hello?”
“Gwen? You certainly sound better than the last time we spoke,” G exclaimed heartily.
Shoot. I forgot I was supposed to be terribly ill. “Uh, ahem. Yeah, I’m starting to um, feel better. It was a rough time.”
“Your subtlety knows no bounds,” Oisín said before jumping back down from the counter.
“What was that, Gwen?” G spoke into the phone even louder, as if maybe I was also going deaf along with whatever weird sickness Aunt Bedelia had drummed up for me with her magic.
“Sorry,” I quickly replied, clearing my throat. “I said I’m surely ready to come back!”
G chortled into the phone so loud that I had to pull it away from my ear. “That’s the spirit! Make sure to get in touch with Eileen to let her know when you’ll be coming back. You, er, do know when you’re coming back, right?”
I hesitated to answer, looking at my brother. Who knew how long it was going to take to smooth things out at the MARC? But then again, that part was for him to do, not me. I needed to get back to work because we didn’t exactly own a money tree. “I think I’ll be all good to go by the middle of the week. You know, to make sure any lingering germs are history.”
“Good to know, good to know. Then we’ll see you Wednesday. Take care of yourself, Gwen. I need my star photographer back in play!”
We said our quick goodbyes and I hung up, heaving a sigh. “I feel like such a terrible person for lying to them about that. With my luck, I’ll end up really getting sick just to spite myself.”
“You see, Tristan? You haven’t missed anything here at the Morality Police headquarters,” Oisín drawled, licking his paw. “She can’t even handle playing hooky from work.”
The two of them chuckled like a couple of goofballs, partaking in the favorite old hobby—driving me crazy.
The rest of the night was pretty much the same, with pizza from my favorite delivery place thrown in for good measure. I sure as heck didn’t want to chance Tristan and Oisín laughing me out of my kitchen over any attempts at a home-cooked dinner. He was entranced by stuffed crust pizza more than he had a right to be, and abruptly passed out on the couch, exhausted while I was still in the middle of reliving the time our parents took us to visit the countryside in another part of Danann. Since he’d already showered and cleaned himself up to the best of his ability, I left him quietly to sleep.
With Tristan’s attention torn between a bowl of oatmeal and morning cartoons on the TV, I checked the clock on the wall.
The front door banged open and sure enough, Fiona-Leigh was home right on time. She dropped her backpack into the chair and shuffled out of her flip-flops, promptly ignoring her newly-found uncle and instead, bending down to scratch a very excited Jax behind the ears.
I noticed she still had on the pair of earrings. The small pit in forming in my stomach was going to have to wait until later to bring up my guilt—she was home and safe. That was all that mattered.
“The prodigal child returns. I don’t suppose you already ate breakfast?” I asked her.
“Pfft. You better believe it. Sully makes killer pancakes. The fluffy kind, too.”
I watched her edge her way around the living room, still not addressing Tristan who was now fumbling with the remote. The personal injury lawyer on the TV suddenly got very loud and all three of us clapped our hands over our ears. Fiona-Leigh ran back into the living room and snatched the remote from Tristan, muting the TV before turning it off in a huff.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.
“Fluffy pancakes, huh? Sounds like he knows his way around the kitchen,” I finally replied, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the room.
“Are we going to talk about what happened now?” Fiona-Leigh said as-a-matter-of-factly. “You were kind of a little distracted before when you first got back.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. Although it doesn’t matter really now since he’s here and all.”
“True.” She turned to look Tristan in the eye, frowning. “I know you’re my uncle or whatever, but I’ve literally never seen my mom so freaked out before. And Aunt Bedelia, too. I really like her. So not cool to treat your family like that. I hope you apologized before she let you sleep over.”
“Fi! Remember that you’re speaking to an adult,” I warned.
“It’s okay, Gwennie,” Tristan said softly, meeting my gaze.
I didn’t think it was possible to see my brother shrink at a young girl’s words, but he did. His usual tanned complexion turned a burnished red underneath.
He turned back to Fi. “You’re right. I haven’t exactly been acting like much of an adult lately. And I definitely shouldn’t have done what I did without letting our family know. Like you said—not cool.”
Her face softened ever so slightly, but I knew she was just trying to figure out whether he was being genuine or not. As kind-hearted as Fiona-Leigh is, she’s a great judge of character and knows immediately when someone’s being untruthful.
“Okay,” she said simply, lifting one shoulder. “Then I guess we’re good.”
It was kind of cute watching the hopeful smile spring up on Tristan’s face without a hint of smugness as she walked back over to me. “Okay.”
“And how was your weekend with Marina? Other than the supposed ghost in the shed?”
Jax’s nails clicked across the linoleum as he followed her into the kitchen. “It was fun. We swam a lot. And stayed up pretty late getting caught up on the latest season of The Bachelor.”
“I’m surprised you even watch that show.”
“We don’t watch it, watch it. We watch it to laugh at the whole thing. It’s beyond ridiculous how seriously these women on the show take it. And the rose ceremony? Oh my god, it’s hilarious! So cringe-worthy.” She poured herself a glass of sweet tea and gulped it down easily.
“Anyway. What about you? Was your trip into Arcadia interesting?”
I didn’t like the way she smirked when she said it.
Tristan sidled into the kitchen, his interest piqued. “Arcadia? What were you doing there?”
“Looking for you, obviously. I was reading up on the history of Danann while I was hanging out with Aunt Bedelia at the library last time and thought the Fae were pretty cool.”
Oisín’s fluffy tail flicked behind from his spot on the floor. “You could say that. They’re ruthless and beautiful creatures who’ll tell you the most painful truths to your face. All while smiling and sipping from a tea cup. One minute they’re confessing their love for you, the next, you’re lying in a pool of your own blood. Don’t ever date a fairy and then mention plans for world domination—and don’t ask me how I know,” he grumbled, cutting both Fiona-Leigh and Tristan off at the same time.
“Gentry seemed to like Arcadia. But I guess that’s because he grew up there, right? Is that even normal, by the way? If they’re as rude as they sound, then isn’t it a little odd they practically raised a witch?” Fiona-Leigh asked, rinsing out her glass before sitting down at the table.
Tristan cocked an eyebrow at her. “Gentry? Who’s that?”
She giggled and leaned forward, obviously anticipating where this was going. “Oh, just a cute Shadow Hand that works for Uncle Gardner. And he’s like the lead Shadow Hand, I think. He totally has a crush on Mom in that brooding sort of way. Kind of like a character from one of those teen vampire movies. Just without the sparkling.”
“Sparkling? Wait . . . I’m confused. This guy works for Uncle G?” He rose slowly from the table, a stony expression on his face.
“Uh, yes? Why? Do you know him?” I asked.
“I don’t suppose his last name is Whitemourn?”
Something twitched in my stomach, but this time it wasn’t from guilt. “What is it, Tristan?”
The tendons in his arms tightened and his jaw clenched. “Gentry Whitemourn isn’t working for Uncle G . . .”
I sucked in a breath. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“I mean he’s not part of the MARC. Not really.”
Fiona-Leigh whipped out her cell phone and quickly slid her finger across the screen a few times before turning it around for us to see. There, was a candid picture of Gentry standing outside Uncle G’s office talking with me. She must have taken it when I wasn’t looking.
“Is this him?” she asked Tristan.
He swore quietly under his breath and nodded, taking the phone from her and tapping on the screen. “Remember what I said about Delaney and her boyfriend leading Enoch into his own death trap? Delaney’s boyfriend? You’re looking at him right there.”
33
I stared at him, unblinking. “That can’t be right.”
Fiona-Leigh frowned at him. “But, but that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, he works for Uncle Gardner!”
Tristan ran his hand through his hair, turning his back away from everyone. “I know, I heard what you said,” he turned back around, panic clear on his face, “but I’m telling you, Gwen, that man right there? He’s the one who killed Enoch, not me. There’s no way I’m misinformed, before you try and say anything. I think I would remember the guy watched with my own eyes, killing my boss.”
Glancing down at the phone still open to the picture of Gentry and I, I slowly rose from the table, my mind racing. “So now what?”
It was more of a rhetorical question than anything. What I really wanted to say though, was something along the lines of, ‘How could I have missed this? How could I have not known?’ I kept it to myself though and rubbed at the throbbing that was starting to spread outward from my temples. I sat on the news for a moment, chewing it over in my mind, desperate to find some sane thought to hold onto. “We need to make sure what you’re saying is true before we act on anything.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, because what a travesty it would be, to go after the wrong guy.”
“Look, I get it. You’re angry—the real killer left you to take the blame for Enoch’s death and now everyone is on the hunt to find you. But we need to know for sure. I need to know for sure, because if what you’re saying is true then we have a big problem on our hands.”
Fiona-Leigh’s eyes were wide as I went into detail about everything I knew about Gentry and everything Uncle Gardner had told me. In my uncle’s eyes, Gentry could do no wrong, and I didn’t know how exactly that would pair up with the fact that Uncle Gardner was a very proud and stubborn man who despised being told he was misinformed. He’s a good man, but pity on the fool who would tell him he was wrong about one of his own judgment calls. Which of course in this case, I’d be that fool.
“Why can’t you just believe me and take my word for it?” Tristan whispered hoarsely, suddenly looking years older.
I place my hand on my brother shoulder, sighing. “It’s not
that I don’t believe you Tristan, but think about it like this: if we go barging into Uncle Gardner’s office, spouting off about how his top selected shadow hand is really the killer, how do you think she’ll take it?”
Tristan dropped his head. “Not so well, I’d imagine.”
I nodded. “Exactly. We need definitive proof here. The next step is to figure out how to obtain it.” Drumming my fingers along the top of the table, I thought about how we could tell if Gentry was being honest with us or not. “We’re going to need to follow him. Preferably to the Dark Market, if at all possible. That way we can get a good glimpse of what he’s really like when no one else is around. If he leads us to Delaney, then so be it.”
“All right, there’s just one problem. How are we going to follow him without him noticing? Even though he’s a piece of crap traitor to us all, he did still go through the entire training process to become a Shadow Hand, Gwen. I think he’d know if someone was trailing him.”
He had a good point. It was next to impossible to follow someone like Gentry… He’d have to be completely caught off guard. “So, we need someone he wouldn’t expect. Not me, because obviously. And not you either, because everyone and their mother is out looking for you…”
Fiona-Leigh’s hand shot into the air as if she were sitting in a classroom. “I could do it. All you have to do is just—”
“No way,” Tristan and I said at the same time.
“It’s way too dangerous for you there,” I continued, a tiny piece of me thankful for Tristan already looking out for his niece. “We need someone else.”
I looked around the room, searching my mind. Everyone I knew in Spell Haven who would help us wasn’t exactly up for the job. Aunt Bedelia was great with magic, but I hated to think of what would happen if Tristan thought she was suspicious of him…
