So her choice was not whether to stay or not. There was no choice in that. She was stuck here. Her choice was whether to let whoever this was run over her and leave her as road-pizza, or fight.
Which when it came right down to it, wasn’t much of a “choice” at all. Because she knew how this sort of thing went. If, for whatever reason, “they” couldn’t get to you, they’d come after your friends, your family, or both. So yeah, there was a thought. Go after Mom, throw her in jail, and then let Social Services come get me. And I get put into Child Protective Services, or even into juvie hall as a stop-gap, because allegedly they can’t get hold of Dad, and then…something bad happens to me. Dad being a lawyer and all, she knew all about how kids fell through the cracks all the time, and then the cracks squeezed shut on them. Sure, saving the world sounded great in a movie…but saving yourself was a lot more important.
At least if I fight, Dylan’s going to give me something to fight with.
“I’ll stick with it,” she said.
Dylan grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. I really meant it when I said that I didn’t think I could do this without you, Staci.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Together, I think we have a fighting chance to save Silence.”
She held his hand as long as he let her…and he didn’t seem in any hurry to let go. “You said something about training?” she said.
“Indeed I did. The lighting up the phone charm? Kid’s stuff. From what you’ve said about manifesting that shield, and finding your way out of that maze, I think you’re ready for something more advanced. Stuff like that whammy I taught you. If you’ve got people trying to put you in their sights, the more offensive punch you’re packing, the better.” Now he gave her hand another squeeze and let it go. “And much as I hate to leave you, since you woke me up so early, there’s something I need to do.” He stood up, then offered her his hand to help her up. She took it. He held it long enough for the two of them to walk over to her bike. “Remember. I’m only a call away. Okay?”
“Okay…” she replied, but he dropped her hand and walked quickly over to Metalhead. He turned and waved to her, and in a moment, he was gone.
* * *
When she got back to the house, she wandered around restlessly for a while before deciding to do laundry. She had just gotten done putting the load in the dryer and was halfway up the basement stairs when the phone rang. She ran the rest of the way up and into the kitchen where the phone was; Mom hardly ever got calls, which meant that this was probably for her. Slightly out of breath, Staci picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Staci, I’m glad I caught you.” With a shock of delight, she recognized Sean’s voice. It was such a jolt of happiness that for a moment it drove all her anxiety out of her mind. “I’m having another house party. It’s going to be a long-weekend one. A week really. Wednesday to Wednesday. If I make it right with your mother, can you come up for the whole week?”
“Of course! I mean, yes, once you talk with her. I’m sure she’ll say it’s okay.” If nothing else, Staci could think of a number of things she could say to her mother to convince her to let her go. Like the fact that her most recent deadbeat boyfriend went full-on creep and tried to get handsy with me. Whatever neurons are still firing in her brain, maybe some of them still register guilt. “Is there anything I should bring?”
“Only what you want to. I’m going to have some ‘theme’ nights, and I’ll make sure you have what you need for that. What do you think about a ’50s night on Friday, maybe a horror movie night for Saturday, and we can have your friends up for those?” Sean’s voice took on a warm tone. “We’ll have a full house for the week. Not just my cousins, but associates of my father. I think you would charm them.”
Staci was glad that Sean couldn’t see her blushing over the phone. “That all sounds wonderful. What time should I be ready? If my mother okays it, that is.” And I don’t think anyone is going to dare try anything to get me when I’m up at the estate.
“Wednesday afternoon, I’ll send the car at around one. It’s Monday, that should give us plenty of time for me to convince your mother, and you to tell your friends. Give your mother my number when she is free and tell her to call me. I will be my most persuasive. I’m looking forward to this, Staci. I’m glad you said yes.”
“I’m really glad you asked me. I’ll see you Wednesday, Sean!” With that, she hung up the phone. She felt lighter than air for a few moments, before she remembered everything that had happened yesterday, and her talk with Dylan. She was still happy, even if it was tempered with lingering fear over last night’s attack, and feelings of the responsibility she had now. I’ve got to call Dylan, let him know about this. He’ll want to know, and he might get worried if I just go dark for a full week.
Just in case Mom woke up, she went up to her room and stared at the clock in shock—it was only ten A.M.! So much had happened this morning, and she had woken up so early, it felt as if it should be much later.
She punched Dylan’s contact on her cell phone. I hope he answers. I hope he doesn’t think it’s me freaking out again, that I’m all needy and clingy. I hope—
“Staci? Is everything all right?” He’d picked up on the first ring. She let out a sigh of relief.
“Sean just called. He’s having something he calls a ‘house party’ that’s starting on Wednesday and lasting a whole week. He wants me to come up there and stay for all of it.” She waited, a little breathlessly, for his answer.
“Go,” Dylan said immediately, without any hesitation. “And don’t just hope you’ll hear something this time, get proactive. Do a little snooping. I am sure you can find some excuses for it. Get into the maze by daylight and see if you can discover anything. Just be careful, no matter what you do. If you get into any trouble that you can’t handle, contact me, and I’ll come get you. Okay?”
“I’ll be fine, and I’ll be careful,” she said. It felt good that he was trusting her to investigate on her own. And she was beginning to wonder…because Sean and Dylan seemed to be about the same age, if Dylan wasn’t trying to help Sean get out of some kind of trouble? It wasn’t the right time to ask, in any case. But by helping Dylan, she was probably helping Sean.
Maybe that is another reason why Sean’s asking me up there. He thinks I can help him. Now that thought made her feel really, really good. She hoped it was true—both that Sean thought she could help him, and that she actually could help him.
Well, now all she had to do was wait for Mom to wake up. I’ll make her breakfast pancakes, then give her the number and tell her to call Sean. Between a carb coma and her hangover, she’d probably agree to let me hitchhike across Europe with a witchcraft cult; getting her to let me go to her boss’s boss’s party should be a snap.
* * *
Mom was a pushover. In fact…right after she got off the phone with Sean, she was ready to shove Staci out the door right then and there. Staci would have considered this suspicious, except that Mom had looked guilty about it. Not the “I know I am doing a stupid thing to my daughter” sort of guilty, but an “I know I am going to get something out of this” sort of guilty. With maybe a touch of “thank god I can get rid of her for a week” guilt. Staci had thought that her opinion of her mother couldn’t get any lower before today. She was wrong.
Well, whatever it was that Sean had said to her, Mom made sure she was ready and at the curb on Wednesday, with a bag in hand. Meanwhile, Staci had made sure that the rest of her friends were informed and on board with showing up on Friday and Saturday nights; even Wanda seemed to have some enthusiasm, this time. Staci thought it was too bad they couldn’t stay overnight too, but it didn’t appear that Sean had included them in that part of the invitation. When the limousine arrived, it was all that Staci could do to keep her breathing even. Every time she was taken up to the Blackthorne Estate, it seemed like she was being whisked away to another world, far away from the common and boring one of her life in Silence.
The driver was
as polite as ever, opening her door for her and shutting it behind her before speeding off. Well, “speeding” was something of a misnomer, because he took his time, this time, giving her plenty of opportunities to watch the “scenery” of Silence pass by outside the limo windows. From in here…well, the panorama looked like a depressing art film.
She helped herself to some of the crystal clear water; even the water tasted better than anything she could find in Silence. Finally, when she was starting to consider tapping on the partition and asking the driver to speed up, they were on that mysterious road through the forest, and then, turning into the long driveway to the Blackthorne Estate.
Sean didn’t meet her; instead, there was a woman in a maid’s outfit waiting at the front door, who took her bag from her. “I’ll just show you to your room, miss,” the woman said politely. “The Master asked me to have you join some of his early guests by the pool. Master Bradan, that is, not Master Sean.”
Master Bradan? That’s Sean’s father…Well, Sean had said that he wanted her to meet some of his father’s…what had he called them…“associates.” But he hadn’t said anything about his father being here for the party.
Okay, okay, maybe that was because he didn’t want to make it sound like “visit to meet my parents” relationship stuff, she told herself. Which made sense, they weren’t even dating, much less at the “meet my folks” stage. Nevertheless, she decided to change into one of her vintage couture finds, rather than stay in “New York casual.” It sounded like this was going to be a more formal gathering than that. She chose a vintage 1960s silk Dior jumpsuit; it was both sexy and covered everything but a little cleavage and her arms.
When she got to the pool, she knew her instincts had been right to change. There was a string quartet playing classical music out there, a scattering of three-piece suits among the designer “leisure” outfits, and she strongly suspected that had anything like a hot dog been found in those covered dishes on the buffet tables, there would be at least one mortified heart attack.
As she approached, one of the elegant men turned to her, smiling broadly; it was Sean, looking dashing as ever. He was standing among a group of older men, all of them—including Sean—holding glasses full of an amber liquid that she assumed was Scotch. Sean quickly walked up to her, embracing her gently so as not to spill his own glass.
“Thank goodness you’re here. I thought I was about to be bored to death by those doddering old farts,” he whispered into her ear. Then he asked, loud enough for the group behind him to hear, while holding his arm out, “Staci, would you like to meet my father and some of our friends?”
She was…well, petrified was not the right word. She’d met plenty of men who had quite a bit of power at the various fundraisers and whatnot that her father had taken her to. Not that they ever paid any attention to her, or even to her father, but she’d certainly brushed elbows with them.
Now, however, they were bending their gaze to her; she was not some insignificant lawyer’s daughter. She was someone who…was worthy of introduction. So she wasn’t petrified, but she became hyperconscious of every move she made, and every word she might say. She would have to put her best foot forward for this; first impressions were everything with people like this, and she couldn’t afford any mistakes.
“First, my father, Bradan Blackthorne.” Sean’s father could have been his twin. That is, if their birth had been separated by thirty years, and the eldest had none of the mirthful laughter in his eyes as the younger one had. If nothing else, Staci now knew that Sean had good genes; his father was dignified and handsome, age having given a slight amount of haughtiness to the boyish features that Sean also carried. He nodded to Staci, bowing slightly at the waist as he held out his right hand, which she accepted.
“Charmed, my dear,” the elder Blackthorne said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “You’re even lovelier than my son had led me to expect. And he is usually prone to exaggeration about the women in his life, so this is a welcome surprise.”
Staci could see Sean bristle at that last quip from his father; he did a good job of hiding it, however, and she suspected that no one else had noticed. Feeling awkward, she moved carefully, vigilant in making sure she didn’t do anything that could be interpreted as ungraceful. Men like this one kept company socially with no-kidding movie and theater stars. She needed to live up to that sort of standard, at least temporarily.
“It’s good to finally meet you, sir,” she said, still feeling the heat on her cheeks.
“Here, let me introduce you to the rest of the circle.” Sean stepped forward, his arm in hers carrying her forward with only a little encouragement. “From the left, we have Ryan Dubghail, Lynch Collins, Nolan Gearalit, and Stewart Casey. All longtime friends of my father’s, even before I was born. They help to keep the business running along smoothly, in between games of golf or hitting on secretaries.” A polite chuckle ran through the group, several of the men raising their glasses before sipping from them.
“You’ll be able to appreciate the finer things in life once you have more responsibility on your shoulders, young Blackthorne.” The man who spoke was the one that Sean had introduced as Lynch Collins. The two Blackthorne men were tall and well-built by any standard, but he was a giant; easily a head taller than any other man at the party, with a barrel chest and wide shoulders. He looked like a legendary hero come to life…save for the coldness in his blue eyes. After he spoke he speared Staci with his gaze, and she felt those eyes boring through her.
“The boy still needs to earn that responsibility before he can enjoy the fruits that come of it, of the hard work that it takes to keep a family going.” Staci remembered the name of the man speaking now: Stewart Casey. He was tall and thin, with long dark hair that was pulled back into a neat ponytail. “It’s not something taken lightly. Parties such as this, bought and paid for with the wealth of his forebears, do nothing to secure his position. Do they, boy?” Stewart turned to look at Sean, a hint of challenge in his voice.
“Come now. What is youth if not for spending in enjoyment?” Nolan Gearalit was a bear of a man; not as tall as Lynch, but certainly as strong-looking in his squat frame. His full beard outlined a bemused smile that never seemed to leave his face, and his eyes were quick to dance from one person to the next whenever he spoke. For now, however, they seemed fixed on Staci and Sean.
“Father has always expressed the need for a balanced life,” Sean said smoothly. “Work hard, play hard, is what he’s said. As long as the ‘work’ comes first, that is.”
“And what work are you doing, boy?” Stewart leaned forward, raising his drink before taking a loud slurp of it conspicuously close to Sean’s face.
“What a Blackthorne has always done, sir,” Sean replied, without even a hint of deference. “Tending the harvest. It should be a particularly good one this year.”
“What benefits the Blackthornes benefits us all,” said Lynch, nodding to Sean’s father. Even though his words were warm enough, Staci couldn’t shake the feeling that the man had nothing but ice in his veins, cool clockwork for his brain.
That these men were powerful was a given. That they were very definitely cut from a different cloth than the powerful businessmen and politicians she had seen in the past…well, that was also a given. Sean and his father were certainly elves; most, if not all, of the “cousins” were certainly elves. But there was no telling what these men might be. Wizards? Psychics? Something even stranger? She just didn’t know what was possible. All that she did know was that magic or psychic powers would probably make succeeding in business much easier than mere money and talent alone.
Being able to conjure up pure gold when you need it wouldn’t hurt either. What did investment losses matter when you could do that?
There was only one thing she was certain of: they were not involved in conventional politics. This coterie of the powerful looked like men who were not at all interested in anything outside of their spheres of influence—w
hatever those were. And she had the feeling that anyone who tried to shine any light on what those spheres of influence were would find himself in more trouble than he could handle.
The only one that didn’t talk was the man that Sean had introduced as Ryan Dubghail. He was as thoroughly unremarkable as her own father, with sandy colored hair and gray eyes. Still somewhat handsome for an older man, he paled in comparison to Sean or his father, or even Lynch and Stewart. What made him stand apart was the way he hung on every word that everyone was saying, without looking terribly interested in it. Staci had picked up on that sort of body language, from all of her experience with her stepmother; this was someone always looking for some advantage to capitalize upon in either conversation or something that someone might let slip.
“Enough of that, you old dogs. My son will do the family proud, I’m sure.” Bradan’s tone was easy enough, but from the way his eyes met those of the other men, Staci could tell that he wouldn’t brook any further discussion of the point. He turned to Staci and Sean, smiling again. This time there was some emotion in his smile. It looked like…approval? “I’m sure you two have much better things to do than listen to us go on about business. Go, have fun, enjoy the party. Sean,” he said, “we’ll talk later, once you’re free.”
Sean smiled back. Not a big smile, but not one of those tight little “this is not really a smile” things she’d seen on his face when introducing her to the group. “Thank you, Father. I hope your guests will enjoy their entertainment as well. I personally made sure it was going to be the sort of thing they prefer.”
Then he took Staci by the elbow and steered her towards the pool and the buffet. “Thank God that’s over,” he said in an undertone. “It’s easier swimming with sharks. And I’ve swum with sharks.”
She wondered if he meant that literally.…
Actually, he probably did.
Silence Page 20
