by Kelly Oram
“Russ…”
I dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Take good care of my brother for me.”
I couldn’t wait around to see if I’d convinced her or not. I needed air, and I needed it immediately. I shouldered my duffel bag, grabbed my phone, and headed for the front door, stopping only to say good-bye to Ethan. He met my eyes, but his expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Unless he was pissed, he was the master of the poker face.
I grabbed his shoulder, meaning only to give it a firm squeeze, but I ended up pulling him into a tight hug. It’s a good thing I was never going to see him again, because he’d give me crap about hugging him for the rest of my life. “Take care of yourself.”
“Keep in touch,” Ethan replied, even though we both knew I didn’t intend to.
I cast a cloaking spell and blinked out of sight before anyone could say anything else.
. . . . .
There was only one bus out of Carmine a week, and it didn’t leave for two more days. I thought about stealing a car—obviously, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d done that, and the thought of swiping Deputy McHale’s cruiser was insanely tempting—but I didn’t see the point, because I had nowhere to go.
As long as my dad left, staying home until I came up with some kind of plan made the most sense. I wanted to give him enough time to clear out, though, so I stayed away for a while, wandering aimlessly around town as the sun disappeared and the sky turned full dark.
It wasn’t long before I found myself at the place that passed for the only restaurant in town. Ruth Fairchild had renovated her old farmhouse into a bed-and-breakfast. The place also served as Carmine’s only motel. Before I could head in, Clara appeared at my side. “It’s about time. I’m starving.”
I didn’t know why she was there, much less what she was talking about. Clara rolled her eyes at my confusion. “You’ve been walking around sulking for an hour. It seems you’ve passed the self pity enough to at least think about the fact that you haven’t eaten a single thing today.”
Could a person be more annoying than Clara? I really didn’t think so. “You’re not my freaking mother.”
“No. I’m just freaking starving. So let’s get something to eat.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Hello? What do you think I’m doing here? I came with you to keep you from going all Demon Spawn on the world. Now that I know just how likely that is, there’s no chance I’m letting you out of my sight.”
Just to piss her off, I cast a cloaking spell and blinked out of her visibility. She only laughed. “Nice try. I also cast a binding spell on you after you banished Beelzebub and passed out.”
I dropped my spell so that Clara could see the rage on my face. “What?”
She shrugged shamelessly. “I knew you’d try to take off.”
For a moment, I was so pissed I could feel my blood pulsing through the veins in my neck. Clara was seriously going to give me an aneurysm.
“The spell won’t let us get more than a hundred feet apart. You’re stuck with me. Get over it.”
There was no way I was going to spend the rest of who-knew-how-long within spitting distance of Clara. No freaking way. I cast a spell meant to break me free of any magic holding me. It didn’t work, so I tried again, giving it everything I had. Clara smirked when her spell easily held against mine. “You’re only at about half strength right now, Russ. And you may be a Devereaux warlock, but I’m a Laroche witch. There’s a good chance I’m stronger than you, anyway.”
The debate over rank in power was a never-ending one amongst magic users. Within our own species, we could tell who was stronger. The Devereauxes were, in fact, the strongest known warlock family. As far as witches go, the Laroches were at the top of the magical food chain, too. But warlocks and witches couldn’t rank our power against one another because we used different magic. Witches used magic of light, whereas warlocks used dark magic. Because there is no true way to tell who is more powerful, the Devereauxes and Laroches have feuded for centuries. There were a few exceptions to the rule—like my dad and Clara’s mom—because despite everything, power attracts power. But for the most part, our families have been enemies since the beginning of time.
I like to think that I’m the stronger magic user between Clara and me, but what she’d been able to do when she healed me was something even my dad couldn’t have done. It was possible she was right. And she was definitely right about me not being at full strength. I’d come a long way since being around her and Dani so much, but I wasn’t anywhere near as strong as I had once been.
I still tried a few more times to break her stupid spell anyway. After my fourth or fifth failed attempt, Clara sighed. “Don’t strain yourself too much, Tiger. I don’t want to have to drag you home if you pass out from exhaustion.”
“I could break it if I used my real power,” I snapped, annoyed—my pride was wounded. “In fact, I could probably suck all the magic right out of you and make it so you could never cast another spell again.”
The threat had started out empty, but at just the thought of using the power Beelzebub gave me, his connection to me came alive, and suddenly zapping the magic out of Clara seemed like the best idea ever. Clara noticed my mood shift and exchanged her snarky attitude for a calm, serious one. “Is that what Michael would want you to do?”
My heart burst at just the mention of Michael’s name. It was a side effect of my new connection to him. My longing to be in his presence, and need to act as he would have me do, was crippling. And my heart wasn’t just telling me not to open up my connection to Beelzebub and harm Clara; it was telling me to stay with her. Telling me that I needed her. That I should trust her. The feeling went against everything inside me—all those deep-rooted feelings of hate and distrust, of pure loathing.
The more I fought against the angelic promptings, the more Michael’s presence weighed down on me, until I collapsed to my knees, trembling with the need to obey his will. He was my angel, after all. I was truly devoted to him now. His desires were mine.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I could barely think. I didn’t like it and I didn’t understand it, but I had to trust Michael. He would never lead me down a wrong path. He wouldn’t bring me pain without purpose. If Michael said I needed Clara, then I needed Clara. I would put my faith in Michael and trust the witch.
The second I accepted my fate, the weight was lifted from me and replaced with a warm burning feeling of pride. Michael was happy. He was proud of me, and grateful to have my faith. It was the most amazing feeling of relief. I took a deep breath and panted as I rose to my feet. “Low blow, Clare Bear.”
She grinned. “But effective. Come on; you can buy me dinner, jerk.”
With no way left to argue, I stomped up the front steps of Fairchild’s Bed-and-Breakfast, slamming the door in Clara’s face on my way in.
Hey, I had to trust her, not be nice to her.
The dining room was small, and crowded with tables. Most of the dinner rush was over, but there were still several tables filled with familiar faces. I’d called attention to myself slamming the door the way I had, but I’d have frozen the whole place anyway just by being there.
The room was silent, everyone still staring at me in shock, when Clara came in the door, ranting about my lack of maturity. She looked around at all the stunned, scowling faces and smirked. “You must have been a popular guy before you left. Shocking.”
Cursing Clara’s presence, I snagged a small table in the corner of the room as far away from the other people as possible, and sank heavily into the seat. “Seriously, Russ,” Clara whispered as she slipped into the chair across from me. She was still glancing around, frowning at all the eyes that had followed us across the room. “What’d you do? Kill somebody’s cat or something?”
I shut my eyes and rubbed my aching head. “I killed Dani.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what they all think, remember? The family that owns
this place, their son, Conor, was the boy who took Dani to the dance the weekend she left. He was questioned by the police in her disappearance, too, and was the first person in town to officially point the finger of blame at me.”
Clara wrinkled her nose, as if she tasted something sour. “What a sweet guy.”
She was trying to joke, but I glanced back toward the kitchen with unease. Ruth was the best cook on the planet, but I hadn’t been here in ages. After Dani’s disappearance, my dad and I stopped eating here. Ruth had never refused us service, but we never received a warm welcome, either.
As if my train of thought had conjured him, Conor strode up to the table. His eyes were on the stunning redhead sitting with me. Strangers were practically unheard of in Carmine, and hot girls, well, I’m not sure there’s ever been one. Conor had stars in his eyes and looked scared as hell as he approached us. Eventually, he looked my way. He startled when he recognized me, but recovered quickly and said, “You look terrible.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
Conor’s eyes slid back to Clara, and he blushed. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound casual as he pumped me for information. “Are you and your dad moving back?”
“Just in town to have some of your mom’s pot roast.” When Conor frowned, I gestured to the pad of paper in his hand, as if he should be writing my order down. “And a Coke, too, if you don’t mind.”
Conor watched me for a long minute with narrowed eyes before jotting down my order and looking to Clara. “Oh, sorry. I haven’t even looked at the menu yet.” She flashed him a brilliant smile. “What’s good here?”
The dork turned all pink again and fumbled with the pen in his hands. “Um—”
“Everything’s good here, except the service,” I offered. “That’s always a little too cold. But you should try the chicken pot pie, unless you’re one of those girls who only ever eats lettuce.”
After shooting me a flat look, Clara smiled at Conor again. “Sounds like I should try the chicken pot pie. And a strawberry lemonade, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She wasn’t flirting with him, but seeing her be really friendly bothered me somewhere deep, deep down in my gut. I wasn’t jealous. There was no possible way I could be jealous. I just had issues with Conor. That’s all. At least, that’s what I told myself as I sat there dreaming of punching him in the face when he shyly smiled back at her. “It’s no trouble.”
She gave him another heart-stopping smile. “Thanks, Conor.”
He grinned at her, but the smile disappeared when his eyes flicked to me again. He should have walked away then, but he stayed put, nervously chewing his bottom lip. “Is there a problem?” I asked. Okay, maybe I growled a little. But seriously. I hated Conor Fairchild as much as I hated Clara. Maybe even more.
Conor glanced at Clara again, staring as if he wanted to say something—most likely warn her about her murdering dinner companion—but he chickened out and walked away without saying another word. After he slunk off to the kitchen, I received another round of glares from everyone in the restaurant. I threw my head down on the table and buried my face in my arms. “Old man Leventis’s son had the right idea,” I grumbled. “Australia sounds really good right about now.”
“Do you seriously let these people get to you?”
I shot Clara another nasty look. “Like you’d understand. I grew up here. This was my home. I loved this town so much, and now I can’t even show my face in it.”
Clara scoffed. “Oh yeah, I know nothing about being scorned by everyone around me.”
I opened my mouth to give her a cruel retort, but censored myself at the last second when I noticed how truly upset she was. Her eyes shone with a layer of moisture. “At least you had a home,” she said. “You have people that care about you. I’ve never had anyone. Even my mom never really liked me. She faked her death and didn’t tell me. She just left me alone, letting me believe she was dead, and never even came for me when my aunts refused to take me in. I’d have ended up in the human foster care system, if Andrew hadn’t found me and offered to help me if I became his patroness. He’s the one who told me my mom was still alive.”
“Huh.” So that was why she joined the vamps? Desperation? Fear of being on her own after she’d been abandoned by her family? Not nearly as slutty a reason as I’d always assumed. And it made me feel bad for her. Sure, my dad was horrible, but he loved me. I’d been the one to walk away from him, not the other way around. And her own aunts wouldn’t take her in after her mom supposedly died? What kind of messed-up crap was that? “Geez. Does everyone hate you?”
Clara’s answer was surprisingly soft and insecure. Normally, she was as tough as nails, but her walls were completely down when she whispered, “Yes. Everyone. My whole life. It’s unnatural, like there’s something wrong with me. I’ve only ever had shallow relationships with people who’ve put up with my presence because they wanted to use my power. There’s only ever been three exceptions. Ethan and Grace are two of them.”
I was confused, because her story pulled at my heart. It made me feel sympathy, which is something I’d never felt for her before. I’d always assumed everyone hated her because she was just nasty to be around. “Who was the third exception?” I asked, caught up in the story. “Andrew De La Cote?”
She lifted her eyes and looked straight into mine with a sad, pleading expression. “No. Andrew wanted my magic. The only other person who’s ever showed me genuine kindness was this boy I met the summer I was twelve. He was nicer to me than anyone I’d ever met. He was the first person to ever even act like he liked me, and treat me like a real person. He was amazing. For a week. And then one day, he just changed. He turned into the meanest jerk I’ve ever known, for no reason. And he gave me no explanation as to why he suddenly hated me.”
I became defensive immediately. “I had my reasons,” I grumbled, unable to look her in the eye anymore.
“I’d love to hear them. Because I think you don’t even know why you hate me.”
“Of course I do.” My level of loathing takes effort. You can’t maintain it with as much vigor as I do without having a good reason to. I had a million reasons for hating Clara. Just…none that I could come up with at the moment. Strange.
I was trying my hardest to come up with a list of excellent reasons for hating Clara, because I found the idea of not having any very unsettling, when my phone rang. It had been buzzing silently for hours and I’d been ignoring it, but I welcomed the distraction now. “Miss me?” I asked sarcastically, after seeing Duncan’s name on the display.
“Russ! Thank the Creator!” Duncan sounded beyond relieved to hear my voice.
“What do you want?”
“You’ve got to get out of Washington right now. You’ve got to take Dani and Gabriel and go into hiding. Ethan and Grace, too. The guardians are on their way there now. The council ordered us to bring them all back.”
I scoffed. “They can try.”
“They intend to. They’ve sent all of the guardians and any of the council’s clans and friends who are willing to help. It’s an army, Russ. You and Ethan won’t be able to stop them. Not even with Dani’s help. Not without it getting ugly.”
I bolted out of my seat. Ethan and Grace were probably halfway home by now, and they didn’t have Dani or me to help them. They’d probably get there just in time to be ambushed. Ethan’s good, but he’s not that good.
I leapt up just as Conor arrived with my dinner, and I crashed into him, bathing us both in pot roast and Coke. I hadn’t realized I’d cussed until Duncan chuckled and said, “Had enough of the fudge, have you?”
“Duncan, this isn’t a joke! We split up. Ethan and Grace are on their own right now. Ethan isn’t going to stand by and let them do this, and he won’t go down easy. This is bad. People are going to die. A lot of people. Possibly Ethan. Possibly Grace.”
In my panicked state, I cast a spell that cleaned the food off me.
“What the hell?”
&n
bsp; “Russ!” Clara hissed.
I swore again. I’d forgotten about Conor and the restaurant full of curious humans. Conor was standing there, gaping at my clean clothes. I looked at myself, and then at the mess on his shirt and sighed. “Why not?” I muttered, and then made the food disappear off of him, too. “You’re welcome,” I told him with a smirk, and then headed for the door, turning my attention back to my bigger crisis.
Clara tugged on my arm. “Russ, what are you doing? What was that? You used magic in front of a room full of humans!”
“I don’t care. We have to go. Now. Ethan and Grace are walking into an ambush. Without us or Dani to help him, he’s in a lot of trouble.”
“Dani?” Conor echoed. He’d followed us out the door.
“Yes, Dani. She’s not dead, jerkwad. Just like I always said. Now, shoo, before I turn you into a rat or something.”
Whatever look I gave him was enough to make the blood drain from his face. After he whirled around and scrambled back inside, I grabbed Clara’s hand and took off running toward home, where our stolen motorcycle was still parked out front.
“Russ! Russ!”
Duncan was shouting into the phone, when I finally realized I hadn’t hung up on him. “We’re getting out, all right? I’ll call Ethan and Grace right now and tell them to get out of there.”
“That won’t be good enough. They have magic users scrying for you. There are wolves, vampires, and fey hunting you. You need to contact your father.”
I actually tripped over my own feet when I heard his suggestion. “Contact my father?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Duncan said, “but the council can’t find him. They’ve been trying for months, but it’s like he’s just vanished. He can help you guys do the same. You have to do it, Russ. You have to disappear.”
