by Cate Conte
After all this time, I’d finally come to some sort of peace with it. My family had been my dad and my grandma. Now they were gone, and I didn’t have a family. Simple as that. Gabe had to have his information wrong. Or someone was playing a joke.
All these thoughts were ping-ponging around in my head, making it hard to hear anything else.
Gabe was watching me, looking concerned. “Your mother. That’s what she said, anyway.” He pointed through the little window into the lobby, where I could see two women waiting. Both were clearly impatient, although it was manifesting in different ways. One was older, sleek and stylish and looking like she’d just stepped off the set of a movie. It wasn’t just her outfit, velvet on velvet, high-heeled boots, fancy hair. It was the way she carried herself, like she was used to attention and thrived on it. She was also a ball of tightly strung energy—I could see it even from where I stood across the room. She looked like she’d explode if anyone poked her.
The other, younger woman leaned against a wall, playing with a strand of long, so-black-it-was-nearly-purple hair, looking around as if she’d rather be anywhere but there. One foot clad in a red Converse shoe jiggled impatiently while she waited.
Uncertain, I looked at Gabe. “That’s—they’re here for me?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know them,” I said under my breath.
“What do you mean, you don’t know them?” he asked slowly. “Is that not your mother?”
I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen my mother since I was five. I’ve never seen—that other woman.”
He sucked in a breath. “You’re kidding.”
I gazed at them. “I wish I was,” I murmured. I didn’t recognize her at all. Not a smidge. If it wasn’t for that weird feeling I was getting, I would think someone was either playing a trick on me, or I was looking at the wrong person in the waiting area. Not that there was anyone else there. I’d imagined this day for a very long time, and in all of those fantasies, I guess I’d never worked out how I would recognize her or know her when or if I did finally meet her. Did she look like me? I couldn’t really tell.
I ignored the little voice in my head that was trying to whisper something to me and kept my focus on these two strange-looking people in front of me.
Gabe’s face was the picture of concern. I wondered how many other cops were watching this very odd reunion attempt. I refocused on my visitors, my mind racing as I tried to figure out what to do here. How had they found me? And most of all, why were they here?
“Do you want me to get rid of them?” he asked.
I shook my head, not wanting to draw more attention to myself.
Gabe nodded and swung the inner door open, letting me step through. “Okay. Call if you need me. And I’ll find out what’s going on with the case. Don’t worry, Vi. We’ll figure it out.”
But I’d stopped listening. I knew he was waiting for me to leave, but I was frozen in place. The women had swiveled their heads in unison toward the door when Gabe opened it, and they were both openly staring at me. I locked eyes with the older woman, and felt in spades that weird feeling I’d felt this morning when I’d opened the door to my apartment and knew this day was unlike any other.
That same staticky sound that had pursued me all day crackled in the air around me. I resisted the urge to cover my ears. I had no idea how long our staring contest lasted, but I broke the gaze first and made a beeline for the door. Whatever was about to happen, I didn’t want to do it in front of the cops.
“Violet!”
I ignored her and shoved the door open. I didn’t look back, but I could sense them behind me, though it was odd that they made no sound.
Once I hit the sidewalk, I took a deep breath, gulping in air like I’d been locked up for years. My pause was enough for them to turn up on either side of me, closing in.
I turned to my alleged mother. “Who are you?” I asked. “And why are you here? More importantly, how did you find me here?” I waved a hand at the building behind me, nearly whacking a woman trying to skirt around the three of us to move down the sidewalk.
The younger one’s eyes got really wide. “Jeez. She doesn’t even recognize you,” she said to the older one. Then she turned to me and held out a hand covered with rings—not just on every finger, but multiple rings on each finger, ranging from giant stones to plain silver bands. I caught a glimpse of a gorgeous amethyst and wanted to ask her where she’d gotten it, but it wasn’t really the time or place. “I’m Zoe. Your—”
“Violet,” the other woman interrupted, “I know it’s been . . . a long time, but you have to know me. In fact, I know you do.” She stepped forward and grasped my arms with long fingers, also covered in rings. Her nails had glitter on the tips, and I could see it sparkling in her hair. When she touched me, I felt dizzy, like I’d come into contact with some illicit substance that affected my nervous system. “I’m Fiona. Your mother.”
Hearing the words come out of her mouth was surreal. I yanked my arms free and crossed them over my chest, shaking my head. If this crazy woman covered in glitter was my mother, maybe it was a good thing she’d ditched me as a kid. My dad had been super stable and loving, as had Grandma Abby. She’d tried to be both mother and grandmother to me, and she’d done a really good job. And I hadn’t had to deal with a lot of the issues my girlfriends in high school had, fighting with their mothers about every little thing, getting grounded left and right, arguments about boys. Maybe I hadn’t really missed having a mother that much.
“You’re out of your mind,” I said coolly. “I haven’t had a mother since I was five. I highly doubt she’s about to turn up now, at a police station, here in this tiny little town.” I thought of Mazzy suddenly, and the sense I’d gotten that she’d been there for another reason. Some sort of reconnaissance. “Who sent you? And why? Does this have something to do with Mazzy?”
Something passed over Fiona’s face, almost imperceptible but I caught it. Aha, I thought triumphantly. I was on to something.
Zoe watched us, eyes pinging back and forth between us.
“I understand how you must feel—” Fiona began, but I cut her off.
“That’s kind of a ridiculous thing to say, considering you don’t know me at all,” I said. “So don’t even try to convince me you know how I feel. And even if you are . . . who you say you are, how did you even find me? And why now?”
I was acutely aware of the fact that the middle of the street was not the best place for this conversation. It wasn’t as busy as it could have been, but it wasn’t deserted, either—people walking their dogs for one final evening potty, others leaving restaurants or the movie theater. I wanted desperately to go hide in my apartment before anyone noticed me. It was a double whammy of embarrassment—being released from police custody and having these two here arguing with me on the street.
How had my day gone so far down the toilet?
“We should get off this street corner,” Zoe said, as if reading my mind. “I mean, if you don’t want to draw attention to us,” she added dryly.
But Fiona ignored her. “I haven’t been able to contact you before now,” she said. “I’ll explain the whole thing later. But it’s because of the necklace. The one you took off today.”
Instinctively my hand went for my throat, where my silver moon with the blue topaz had rested for all these years. I felt naked and exposed without it. But how could she have known about this necklace, anyway? My grandmother had given it to me long after my mother had left.
“Abigail gave it to you,” Fiona said, those dark, almost black eyes intensely focused on mine. “She gave it to you to keep me away.”
CHAPTER 18
My entire world tilted a little bit. This woman, whoever she really was, knew about my grandmother. That she’d given me this necklace, the special necklace she said had been in the family forever, stressing how very, very important it was to us, and that once I put it on
, I needed to treasure it and never remove it.
I needed to know how she knew that. And what she meant about it keeping her away.
I motioned for Fiona and Zoe to follow me, and went around the corner into a little alleyway next to the police station, hoping for some privacy but not wanting to bring them to my apartment. Too late, I heard voices and was dismayed to see two people, a man and a woman in the shadows, engaged in an intense conversation. They weren’t near the streetlight but still . . . I took a closer look.
The curly hair and cowboy boots were a dead giveaway—it was Syd. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but he was more shadowed than she was. I caught a glimpse of a scruffy goatee. I thought about calling her over to bail me out, but that would prompt more questions than I was ready to answer. I hesitated, not entirely sure what to do next.
But after a quick glance over her shoulder, Syd grabbed the guy’s arm and dragged him out the other side of the alley, vanishing around the corner. I wasn’t even sure she’d realized it was me, but either way, she didn’t seem to want to be seen.
I didn’t have time to ponder this. Fiona still waited for me to react to the bomb she’d just dropped. I could feel her shifting from foot to foot in those ridiculous heels, practically breathing down my neck.
I took a deep breath and turned to look at her. “This all sounds like a great premise for a movie,” I said, mustering up all the sarcasm I had the energy for. “What does that even mean, she gave me the necklace to keep you away? What, does it have some sort of magical powers?” I snorted to show how stupid I thought that sounded, but she didn’t react, just kept looking at me with that slightly concerned face and those unreadable eyes. I didn’t care—she could stare at me all she wanted. Besides, a mother doesn’t let a piece of jewelry keep her away from her kid. If she loved her kid enough.
“You say that,” Fiona said in an amused tone, “like it’s preposterous.”
I rolled my eyes. “If that’s all you’ve got, I’m going home. I’m tired and it’s freezing out here and I’ve had a really crappy day.” I could feel tears in the back of my throat as I said the words. It had been a crappy day, topped off with an evening right out of a bad movie, and I needed to go home and decompress.
A lingering feeling of guilt nagged at me when I realized how snotty I probably sounded. What if she was my mother? I wasn’t exactly being welcoming. But then I shoved it aside. Seriously? She’s gone for all these years, then comes back out of the blue—literally—and blames my recently deceased grandmother for a twenty-seven-year absence?
“Thanks for coming,” I said, giving them a curt nod, then I turned and walked away.
“We’ll come with you,” Fiona said from behind me. Her voice was so close to my ear I nearly jumped.
“That’s not necessary,” I said through gritted teeth, but before we could argue further, a bunch of kids turned into the alley, laughing and talking loudly. The smell of smoke wafted behind them.
From her spot leaning against the wall as if this whole thing bored her, Zoe let out a long sigh. “Seriously,” she said. “I’m about to turn all these people into some fun animals if we don’t get out of here. Where do you live, Violet?”
I turned and arched my eyebrows at her. “Why?”
“Because you just said you wanted to go home,” Zoe said in a tone that suggested I needed to catch up.
“Yeah. Alone,” I said.
A look passed between Zoe and Fiona, then Zoe grabbed my hand.
Before I could snatch it away, I felt that same weird sensation I’d felt earlier today when I’d imagined myself back at my grandma’s house—that bottom-dropping-out-of-my-stomach thing. I closed my eyes to ward off the sick feeling I was sure was coming.
When I opened them again, I was in my living room.
Now I did feel light-headed, like I was about to faint. Unless I already had. What other explanation was there for me to keep forgetting how I’d ended up in certain places today—places I didn’t remember physically going to? This whole thing had to be one long, strange dream. I desperately wished I could wake up.
Monty jumped off the windowsill and came over to sit in front of me, meowing loudly. I reached down tentatively to touch him. Yes, he was real. Yes, it seemed I was really home. I’d be relieved, but . . . I cast a cautious glance over my shoulder. Zoe and Fiona were standing behind me in a pool of glitter, looking around my loft apartment like they were in a museum of foreign objects—the sheer purple curtains I’d hung over my giant living room windows, the lights I’d strung up in various places around the room. My salt lamps. The crystals filling almost every free space. The screen that separated my bedroom from the living area that depicted a full moon over the ocean.
Seriously—how had we gotten here?
Zoe stared at Monty. “I always wanted a familiar like this.” She shot Fiona an accusing look and reached out a hand to touch his fur. I backed away so he was out of her reach. A look that may have been hurt passed over Zoe’s face, and her hand dropped.
Fiona managed to give Zoe a look without taking her eyes off me. “Too common,” she said. “I always wanted you to stand out.”
I had no idea what they were talking about, but now she was insulting Monty too. “Hey,” I started to say, but Fiona cut me off.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“I’m not really in the mood to talk,” I said wearily. “Besides, you’ve been gone for twenty-seven years. Why do you want to talk today, of all days?”
“I know it’s hard for you to understand,” she said, holding up a hand to halt my protests. “I hope you’ll be able to open your mind enough to hear the story. But the bottom line is, I was able to connect with you today. I knew you were in trouble. And I wanted to help.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Monty twisted in my grasp, trying to get free. I let him go, and he jumped out of my arms and headed under the bed.
I thought about joining him.
“How exactly did you know I was in trouble? You have a direct line to the police department?” I dropped onto my sofa and closed my eyes.
“Well, Mom, she’s definitely your daughter. She’s very dramatic,” Zoe said.
I opened my eyes and glared at her.
“What’s there to eat around here?” Zoe asked, ignoring my look.
“Eat?” I repeated. “This is one of the worst days of my life and you want to eat?”
“I’m hungry! Mother pulled me out of the house with no warning,” Zoe said.
“There’s plenty of food around. Just go outside. You’ll need my key.” I reached for my purse.
Zoe gave me a long look, gave her hair a tug . . . and disappeared. The air where she’d stood crackled as it settled.
Speechless, I looked at Fiona.
She gave me a small smile. “She doesn’t need a key.”
That dizzy feeling was back. Probably I hadn’t drunk enough water today. I definitely hadn’t eaten enough. There was no way people were disappearing in front of my eyes and I was teleporting around town.
“Listen. I don’t know what’s happening, or whose idea for a joke this is, but I wish you’d leave me alone.” I felt hysterical tears coming and tried to hold them back, but I couldn’t. It had been such a long, crappy day, and I was exhausted, and Carla was dead, and where was Todd, anyway? He was supposed to be the guy who was always here for me, and the day I needed him most he was nowhere to be found. Good thing I hadn’t been waiting around for our date.
But Fiona didn’t look like she was about to offer any kind of comfort. Her eyes had gone dark, and her lips were pressed so tightly together I worried they might be the next things to disappear. She took two steps toward me so she towered over where I was sitting.
“Look. I know this is a shock, and believe me, I will explain everything. But you need to stop your little pity party, get your act together, and listen to me,” she said urgently. “You are Violet Raven Moonstone, and you are three-quarters witch. You b
elong to the Moonstone and Ravenstar families, which are the two most powerful, respected, and admired families in the witch realm. You have the potential to be a very powerful witch in your own right. And right now, your community—your extended family—needs you to step up and own your power and own your lineage.” She pointed a long glitter-tipped fingernail at me. “There’s a lot at stake. And you have a responsibility.”
I stared at her, my mouth literally hanging open, trying to take all that in.
“Besides all that, we need to get busy figuring out who’s trying to frame you for killing someone,” Fiona went on. She flashed me a small, sharp smile. “So let’s get to it, shall we?”
CHAPTER 19
My head spun. I felt dizzy and a little sick as I tried to process all the problems in her statement at once. Someone trying to frame me. My name—Violet Raven Moonstone? I had no middle name on record. And my last name was Mooney. My dad had spent hours when I was a child telling me about the long line of Mooneys, a distinguished group of academics who had devoted their lives to teaching such lofty subjects as literature, astronomy, and political science. It was one of the best things about being a Mooney, he’d said—and it was something I would carry on.
When I was young, I’d balked at this idea, because I’d never thought of myself as a teacher, but I didn’t want to disappoint my dad. If I did, he might disappear like my mother had. Because why else would she have gone away unless I’d disappointed her? But when I eventually worked up the courage to voice that to him, he merely chuckled in that soothing, quiet way he had, smoothed down his ever-present argyle sweater, and said, “Don’t fret, V. The best teachers usually aren’t in classrooms anyway.”
I hadn’t known what he meant at age seven, or even twelve, but later after I opened my shop and really began to see how I could help people and teach them to take charge of their own well-being, I remembered his words and felt like I finally understood them. Life had started to make sense.
