by Katie Dunn
He gives a look of concern. "I could. And I would, but there's nothing. It's blank."
So much for Troy's special abilities. For the first time, I figured it would be useful. Possibly reading my mind at this very moment, Troy puts an arm around me. "Try not to freak out. This is a store, a public place. There's no fashion in which a stranger could get them to his van."
Troy's attempt to comfort me, doesn't help. But his next action eases my anxiety a little bit. He pulls me closer and puts his other arm around me. Momentarily shocked, it takes a minute to return his embrace. I rest my head on his chest and sigh.
For a second, everything is okay. For a second, the boys aren't missing, there's no D'yavol pack to worry about, and no dress crisis. Things are calm and easy, not rough and unstable. It's fascinating how a simple hug from Troy, can make me forget our harsh reality.
He lets go of me and meets my gaze. "You feel better now?"
I nod. "Yeah. Thanks. I guess I needed a hug," I admit.
Troy's eyes catch something behind me and he smiles. He gently grabs my shoulders and turns me in the direction. The boys stand there also smiling. Derek holds an object behind his back and Lenny stands real close to him, to help hide it.
"We found it," Lenny says to me.
"You found what?" I ask. Derek swings "it" from around his back and holds it up for me to see. A dress. And not just any dress, the dress.
Yellow fabric with a thin black belt, cute little cap sleeves, and a V-shaped neckline. It looks like it will come to my knees when I try it on, making for an appropriate length. I have to admit, a dress was the last thing I expected to see. My brothers do not clothes shop. Ever.
I am surprised at Troy's reaction, he was holding it together pretty well thirty seconds ago, but seeing his younger brother makes him see how worried he truly was. "Don't ever do that again, Lenny."
Lenny glances at me for a short second. "We were trying to help."
"It doesn't matter," Troy chastises. "You need to tell me where you're going, next time."
"Oh, like when you told me you were going out to spy on Britt?" Lenny argues.
I wait for Troy's patience to snap, but it doesn't, he remains calm and takes Lenny's words sincerely. "I'm sorry, Lenny. From now on, I will make it known to you when and where I'm going. But you have to do the same, understand?"
Lenny is aware of his older brother's reasoning, but attempts to persuade his older brother to believe he can defend himself. "Hey, if anyone tries to hurt me," he holds his fist up, to show his means of force. "I'll bring them to their knees."
Troy is unconvinced by Lenny's statement. "This is a public place, Lenny," he points out. "You have to put distance between you and your attacker, without making a scene. Odds are, if they are trying to capture you in a civil area, they are doing it without bringing attention to themselves."
Troy is right. With him and Lenny being skinwalkers, they cannot afford to bring to much attention to themselves. Then again, neither can I. If I can't learn to control whatever is happening with me, I could end up suffering the same fate. Which could easily be facing certain death or being treated like a lab rat. Neither would be enjoyable.
My mom comes back and sees the boys with us. With a sigh of relief, she scurries over to my brothers and takes them all in her arms. "I was so scared for you boys." She pulls back slightly to look at them. She opens her mouth to speak, but Troy is the one who talks. "I've already told them, Priscilla. And hopefully, we won't have a repeat."
Troy read her mind, I realize. She gazes at me questioningly. "I'll explain later," I tell her. I try on the dress—which fits me perfectly, by the way—and we pay for it at the check-out, before going home.
After I hang the dress up in my closet, we all—except my mom—meet in the backyard. Even though we own acres and acres of land here, our immediate backyard is the small patch of land directly behind our house.
The yard is fenced in by a wooden fence, with a gate and rose bushes planted along the inside. The inside also contains a large, round trampoline, and a huge swing set that resembles a fortress—my dad went all out, building it thirteen years ago. But none of it will be an issue when we start.
Troy, Lenny, and my brothers wear loose athletic pants and T-shirts, while I wear athletic leggings and a tank top. I wonder what kind of fighting techniques Troy will show us. Whether it's karate moves or basic fighting skills, I'm excited and ready.
We stand here, waiting for Troy's instruction. My brothers, Lenny, and I are lined up facing him. He stands in front of us, like he's teaching a class. "Okay, so…" he says, unsure of how to start. "Let's begin with some basic exercises."
Derek places his arm on my shoulder and leans on me. "Like?"
Lenny strolls over to Troy and stands beside him. "I think he means something like this—" He holds up his hand and flicks his wrist. With that, fire appears and swirls around Derek and me. It is somewhat similar to what I would imagine to be a flaming force field. It doesn't hurt or burn, but I can feel the heat coming from it.
"Cool," Kendall says.
"That's awesome," Casey comments.
"Could you stop now?" Derek asks. "I feel like I'm in a furnace."
Lenny drops his hand at his side and focuses on the small inferno surrounding us. After a minute, the flames finally disperse. "Sorry," Lenny calls, more amused than apologetic.
I think my brothers are forgetting the big picture here. Lenny brought fire into existence out of thin air, by only using his mind and a motion of his wrist. "Wait, you can do this kind of stuff, too?" I ask.
Derek and I have been able do these freaky things, since we were the twins' age—Kendall and Casey's abilities are only starting to break through. We can't do anything related to what Lenny just did. Usually, it's small explosions—like the water bottle and the air bags—caused by our heightened emotions, such as anger or frustration. Nothing controlled or intentional.
I would love to learn how to control it, so I can't hurt anyone else. Nothing would bring me greater joy. It frightens me acknowledging I'm somewhat of a ticking time bomb. One slip, one mistake, is all it takes.
"It's another skinwalker thing," Troy tells me. "There's lots more you don't know about us… I'll explain some of it as we go. And as for what Lenny just did? It's what we call witchcraft or magic."
"Magic?" I ask.
Troy nods. "All skinwalkers are witches or warlocks, but not all witches and warlocks are skinwalkers."
After all these years it has been magic all along. Who would have known? Evidently, not me—and neither did my brothers. Though, I do wonder if anyone else in my family are witches. "Is it hereditary? Magic?" I ask Troy.
"I haven't exactly seen Momma or Daddy, busting windows with their minds, when they get upset," Derek states.
Troy ignores him. "It can be. Some people are the first in their line, and some are not. It depends on the family."
I nod my head. "Got it. What else?"
"Never invite a skinwalker inside—well, don't invite anyone inside—just in case," Lenny warns.
"Why not?" Casey asks.
"Because a skinwalker cannot come in, unless they have been invited," Troy clarifies.
"I thought that myth was for vampires," I say, matter-of-factly.
"Where do you think the myth came from?" Troy asks rhetorically. "Besides vampires aren't real."
"That we know of," Lenny adds, using a deep voice. Troy rolls his eyes and gestures to his brother. "If he can learn magic, so can you."
The problem is, I don't want to learn magic. Practicing would go against all my beliefs—religious or no. I do want to control it, but controlling it and practicing it are two different things. I don't want to accidentally hurt anybody else—which is why I need to control it.
Reading my mind, Troy seems to be okay with my decision. "Would you be willing to at least learn how to use it, to defend yourself?"
"Yes. Of course she would," a new voice says. "They all would.
"
I turn in the direction of this person. My mom stands on the porch, watching. She walks down the steps and joins us out in the yard. "I can understand your concerns, baby girl. But you need to do whatever it takes to protect yourself."
"She's right," Troy agrees.
I suppose they both have a point. I am pretty much helpless and don't stand a chance against any person trying to kill me. If I can master magic, it will be an unfortunate day for my enemy. Although, they are bringing it upon themselves, if they're messing with me. It'll teach them for inflicting danger on a Thompson.
I glance between my mom and Troy, and nod. "I'll do it… But after I pick up a few things, no more."
My mom nods in agreement. "Definitely. I don't want you kids practicing regularly, but I do want y'all to be safe if anything happens."
She takes a step toward the porch. "I'm gonna go back in the house. Y'all holler if you need anything." She turns to Troy before leaving. "And thanks again, Troy."
"I am happy to do it, Priscilla," he says.
After my mom is gone, we begin with our training. Troy and Lenny teach us some basic spells. Some only require the image in our brains and loads of focus, and some require small incantations. None of it is hard, but none of it is simple either. It takes a slight physical toll on my body, making me a little weak, but otherwise fine.
Lenny conjures a fireball in his hands and throws it at me. I quickly dodge it by jumping off to the side. When I regain my balance, I counteract his attack. I envision him flying backward across the yard—like someone pushed him—and fling my arm in his direction. He gets picked up off the ground and is hurled into the rose bushes. "Ow!"
"Sorry," I call, returning his "apology."
Troy and the boys fall to the ground laughing. Disregarding them, I run to Lenny and help him stand. "Are you okay?"
He picks a thorn from the bottom of his shirt. "I think so." It isn't until now, Lenny acknowledges the laughing in the background. "Hey! It's not funny."
Troy sits up. "Yes, it was."
Kendall nods at Troy's words. "It was."
I glare at them both. "Come on, guys. Seriously?"
My dad slips through the gate and strolls over to me—since I'm nearest to him. "Hey, Daddy."
He puts his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. "Hey, baby girl." The twins run up to us and wrap their arms around my dad in an embrace. "Hi, Daddy."
"Yeah. Hi, Daddy."
Derek and Troy saunter over. "How were things at the shop, Liam," Troy asks.
"Not too bad," my dad replies. "The new guy came in today, and he's gonna need a little bit of training, but he'll make it."
"I was making sure you weren't going to need my help," Troy says.
"Naw, it's fine," my dad says. "You need to worry about Britt and the boys."
Troy nods. "Yes, sir."
I notice that Troy is almost like my dad's apprentice. He's constantly asking my dad if he needs assistance. Troy is really trying to earn his place in this household. I'm glad he is. His selflessness is part of why we all like him so much. He's winning our admiration through his good deeds.
As for Lenny, well, his approach is quite different. Lenny hasn't done many good deeds, but he is befriending the family with his silly personality and generosity. He is a good kid and I'd like to see him continue to make a positive impact on our lives. "Don't you need to be getting ready for dinner, Britt?" He asks.
My dad gives me a questioned look. "Dinner?"
I tell my dad that Tom and his parents have invited me to their house for the evening. He glances at Troy. Some gut feeling tells me his glance means something. But what? Why is my dad giving Troy looks in the first place?
"Just be home within a reasonable amount of time," my dad tries to be sensible. Before I know it, he and the boys—that is including Lenny—head out to the barn to feed the horses and close the gate behind them. Once we're alone, I ask Troy about my dad. "Nothing," Troy answers.
"Troy," I chastise.
"Look, it's nothing important," Troy assures me. "Just go have a nice time, okay?"
I'm not buying it. If it really was nothing, he would just tell me, but instead he's keeping it a secret. I am very curious as to what it may be, but I'll let it go for now. There are other things that should be my main concern at the moment—like tonight's possible plate of poison.
I muster an angelic smile for Troy. "Fine, I will."
ELEVEN
I LOOKED BEAUTIFUL. I mean really amazing. The dress looked awesome on me, and it seemed even better when I strapped on my black heels. I put on some light pink makeup, a slightly darker shade of pink on my lips, and pulled my hair back into a simple but stylish side ponytail.
I grab my black clutch handbag and drop my phone, keys, driver's license, and lip gloss in. I suddenly feel the urge to look in the mirror once more and assure myself that I look fine. I walk over to the corner of my room where a large, rectangular floor mirror stands. I look pretty, but I begin to rethink the ponytail.
A knock at my bedroom door makes me jump. "Come in."
The knob turns and Troy steps inside. He stops in his tracks when he sees me. He looks at me like… What exactly? He stares at me as if someone froze him that way.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
He shakes off whatever state he was in and starts blinking again. "I'm fine."
Is he? Or is he keeping something from me? I decide not to worry about it right now. I shake my head in exasperation. "Whatever. So how do I look?" I ask, spinning around slowly.
He nods. "You look… pretty. You look pretty."
I don't pay much attention to his slight pause. "You don't think the ponytail is too much, do you?"
"No. Not at all," he replies.
I turn back to the mirror and attempt to put my earrings on. Troy lurks behind me watching. "You did good today. Really good."
I get one earring on and begin on the other ear. "I did?"
I didn't think I did as great as Troy says, but his approval makes me feel as if I worked wonders. I thought I was kind of clumsy in every aspect of our training session. Mostly because all the guys seemed to look graceful dodging attacks as well as executing them. I will admit my performance wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. But then again, it wasn't all that great either.
Troy's expression tells me I did all right. He gazes at me in awe and admiration. For some reason it makes me blush. My face grows warm, and my heart beats faster than it probably should. Something tells me Troy experiences the same thing.
I don't want to, but I force myself to look away. "Um… I should probably get going."
Troy nods. "Yeah. I don't want you to be late."
I walk toward the door, but Troy blocks my path. At the same time, we both move to the side. I step over to the other side, but Troy does the same. He meets my eyes. "Uh, sorry. I'm not doing this intentionally. I promise." This time, he moves and waits for me to go first.
͠
The Lucas house is bigger than I remember it. At least from the outside anyway. It's almost large enough to be a mansion, but not quite. The Georgian-style house is quite elegant. Much nicer than my Victorian-style one. That's only because my house is a lot older than theirs.
You can tell by its features it's not all that old. Parts of the house are covered with stone, others with siding. Most of it screams with modern-day architecture. They may have a big house, but my family has more land and horses. That witty little thought brings a smile to my face.
I walk up the steps and ring the doorbell. After a few moments Toby, the Lucas's British butler, opens the door. Unlike Tom's parents, Toby doesn't seem to mind me; neither do any of the maids. "Why, hello, Miss Thompson. How are you today?"
"I'm fine, Toby. How are you?"
He smiles at my courtesy, possibly because he never receives any. "I am well. Thank you for asking. Now, please. Come in."
I step inside and follow Toby through the house. I peek into several of
the different rooms as we walk by. Many of them aren't even being used really. One room has nothing in it but a piano. Tom told me nobody ever plays it, that his parents only bought it for show. Another room has two sofas and a coffee table that Tom also told me is never used. At one point, I think we pass an empty room with absolutely nothing in it but a fireplace.
It angers me that my smaller home now shelters eight people, while this huge house only shelters three. Troy has been sleeping on the couch, and my parents are going to put my old twin-size mattress in Derek's room for Lenny to sleep. I'm the only person in my house with her own bedroom. Well, that is until my family can clear out my dad's office and turn it into a bedroom for Troy.
Toby leads me into the living room—I can tell because of the TV—where Samantha waits. It's not like she was pacing around waiting for me. Instead, she's going over some instructions with the maids. I don't know what she's telling them, but she sounds very particular about how she wants it done.
Once she notices Toby and me, she sends the maids off to their chores and puts on what I want to say is a genuine smile. It appears to be genuine, but I can't tell for sure. "Good evening, Britt," she says in a kind voice.
Completely astonished, it takes me a minute to realize that she's talking to me. "Oh. Good evening, Mrs. Lucas. How are you?"
"I'm fine. How are- your hair."
I immediately run my hand over it to make sure it's okay. Yep, still intact. Confused why she pointed out my hair, I worry if it's all frizzy or if it's flat and straight. I run my fingers through it to find out.
"Oh, no dear," Samantha says. "I just noticed that we both went for the same style."
I glance at her reddish-brown hair, which apparently is pulled into a side ponytail like mine. "Oh. Silly me," I admit. I never in a million years thought she would actually give me even half a compliment. I ponder why she hasn't already started with the insults. Maybe Tom had a talk with her. He's always been more fond of his mother than his father—that's because Jonathan makes Samantha seem like a Care Bear.
"So Brittany dear, what's new with you?" Samantha asks as she sits down on the couch. I flinch at my name. I truly hate the name Brittany. "Actually, Mrs. Lucas, I prefer Britt. And not much." I sit on the opposite end of the couch.
