“It’s not my problem, Staci. If your friend wants to carry on the good fight, I say let him. I know this,” he said, pointing at her. “You need to get as far away from him as possible. Elves only leave wreckage behind them, especially when they start playing their games with each other. That wreckage all too often has names and families. Don’t become part of it, Staci.”
She frowned, fiercely. “It is your problem, because you live here,” she pointed out. “And if crap starts flying, you’re going to get spattered. Why are you acting like this, anyway? I mean, if what you really, truly wanted was to be left alone, you wouldn’t have put this bookstore together right here. You’d have found some cheap house out in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors and…I dunno…started an Internet bookstore, if you had to run a bookstore. Or an organic herb farm, or something. What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense with what you’ve made here! So…why are you saying it?”
“I don’t have to justify myself to you, or anyone else for that matter, Staci. I have my own reasons for doing what I do, and that’s no one’s business but my own.” Tim sounded almost…sad? She couldn’t put her finger on what it was in his voice, but there was a sort of hollowness in what he was saying.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “If you want me to go away, you’re going to have to give me a good reason. Because otherwise, I’m not going to stop nagging you.”
“You want a reason? You will get hurt doing this, Staci. It’s amazing that you haven’t been killed already, to be honest. Magic is dangerous; mixed with elves, it’s deadly in ways that go beyond just having your body die.” He looked at his coffee cup, avoiding her eyes. “I know.”
She clenched her teeth. “I’m stuck in Silence, Tim. I’m a kid, I can’t just move out or run away—well, I could run away, but chances are I’d be hooking for a pimp in Las Vegas before you could say ‘crack addict.’ My dad won’t take me back for the good reasons of my mom being a lush, and her boyfriend’s trying to molest me—you think he’d take me back if I started spouting off about dangerous elves? Besides, my friends are here, and I thought you liked them! Whether we fight or we don’t, the answer is the same: we’re either going to have to do something and maybe die trying, or we become collateral damage hiding in the cellar! So why aren’t you doing something?”
“Because I’ve already done enough!” He slammed his fist down on the table, causing both of their coffee mugs to jump. There were a tense few breaths where Tim’s eyes were fixed on hers, and she felt frozen by his sudden outburst of rage. Then the moment passed, and the anger faded from his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you like that, Staci.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair again and covering his face with his hands for a moment. “But I know how this is all going to play out. Whether the Blackthornes ‘win,’ or you and Dylan ‘win,’ it’s all going to be the same; the elves do what they want, and damn everyone else.” He was quiet, lost in thought, and his eyes became unfocused as he stared past her. “I was like your friend, a long time ago. I even worked with his kind, on occasion. There was always more to do; I was younger then. Stupid. There were so many people that I lost, but I told myself that so long as the mission was there, that it all wasn’t for nothing. I made the mistake of trusting an elf to have my back. Then I was left twisting in the wind when I needed help the most. And, like I said, there are worse things than dying when you get involved with elves.”
Staci was taken aback by the hurt in Tim’s voice. It sounded very much like Dylan, when he had been talking about his cousin. This was different, though; Tim had been pushed too far, past the breaking point…and then some. He had been broken. She shivered involuntarily, not wanting to ponder on what could have happened that had been so bad that it could have broken someone like him. She had to say something to bring him back to the present, to keep him from self-pity.
“Dylan isn’t that other elf. I’m certainly not an elf—well, mostly. I don’t know what you went through, Tim, but I’m sorry that you had to do it alone. I can’t just turn my back on this, though. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think it would do much good; this stuff with the Blackthornes…it’s going to keep coming after me, even if I ignore it or run from it. So, my only option left is to fight; fight to survive, fight to help save this town and everyone in it. Even you. Even,” she gulped, “if you won’t fight to save yourself.”
That got a response. There was another burst of anger, more contained now, but still smoldering behind Tim’s eyes. For a second, it looked as if he was going to say something; maybe the spark would catch, and he would see reason and help her. But then it was gone again. “I’m tired, Staci. You should go home. It’s not safe out after dark; you know that, now, better than anyone else in Silence.”
“Tim—”
“Go home. I don’t want to talk about this again.” There was finality in his statement. She had tried to get through to him, and lost. Without another word, she angrily gathered up her shoulder bag and stormed towards the back door. As she was about to shove it open, she looked back to Tim, still hoping that he might change his mind.
“I meant what I said, Staci; you don’t want to be in this fight. Run, or hide. Better yet, forget you have ever even heard of magic. And just hope that it forgets you right back.”
She didn’t have a response for that that wasn’t laden with cussing, and she didn’t have the energy to get into it with Tim again. So, she left, letting the door slam behind her.
* * *
It was…weird. On the one hand, now she was completely aware that she was in the middle of something really, really bad. Like being under siege or something. But on the other hand, everything looked and seemed completely normal. The missing three kids? Well, concern about them just faded away, and even the gang stopped talking about them after a day or two. It was business as usual in Silence, and even Wanda was keeping her lip buttoned about it.
She finally decided that it had to be part of whatever spells the Blackthornes had woven over the town. Sort of a “nothing to see here, move along” that made everyone forget things that were inconvenient to the Blackthornes.
And she—even while she felt as if she should be fighting something, or running, or trying to hide like Tim—had to act the same, if she didn’t want to paint a great big target on herself. It was a strange week. If she was going to do what Tim thought she should do…she should have been figuring out how to hide from everyone. Instead, she was acting completely normally. Laundry, housecleaning, increasingly infrequent trips to the Hill to check her increasingly sparse messages, grocery shopping, breakfast at the diner, gaming with the gang…
And waiting for another invitation from Sean, which she didn’t want to accept, and knew she had to. And yet, she wanted to accept it too, because Dylan had stressed how important it was that they find out exactly what the end game for the Blackthornes was; she was their best bet for that, since Sean was interested in her and kept bringing her back to the estate. It made her skin crawl, imagining him trying to break into her room to watch her sleep again.
And right on schedule, Thursday night, the call came from Sean to come up to the estate for the weekend. There would be a new twist to the entertainment, this time. The cousins were going to play some polo games, a sort of tournament over Saturday and Sunday. Staci accepted, of course, faking the enthusiasm that she had felt before, working through her anxiety, and keeping her voice chipper and upbeat. She wasn’t into sports all that much, so she hoped that the games would be enough of a distraction that she would be able to slip away while most of the cousins—and Sean—were otherwise occupied. She did her best to keep her mind off of it for the next day, dodging her mother and keeping to chores. She let the gang know where she was going to be, but avoided going back to the bookstore; she wasn’t ready to face Tim again, and was still angry with him after their last conversation.
Friday afternoon came far too soon for Staci’s liking. Her every instinct told her to
run, or to use some of the defensive spells that Dylan had taught her when she saw Sean’s car pull up to the curb in front of her house. She couldn’t tip their hand now, though; she needed to just grit her teeth and bear through it, do what needed to be done…no matter how loathsome she found being around Sean, now. Even if he wasn’t a part of all of the bad stuff willingly, he wasn’t doing anything to stop it or warn anyone. That was just about as bad as pulling the trigger itself on whatever was going to happen to Silence, at least in her mind.
“You look wonderful as always, Staci,” Sean was leaning against his car, arms crossed in front of his chest as he waited for her to make her way off of the porch and to the street. She had concentrated on everything being normal; that included taking as much care with her wardrobe as if she still wanted to be his girlfriend. She was wearing another New York summer outfit: mint-colored yoga pants and a matching crop-top. Given that there was going to be sports involved, she had khaki shorts and polo shirts in her bag, and her vintage jumpsuit and accessories in case they were having a formal dinner.
He was grinning, a sort of lookie-at-something-that-I-own-coming-this-way smirk that she wanted to wipe off of his face with a two by four. But instead…
He might not be in on this. And this is kind of how he was raised. What did I tell Wanda? You might not like the customs of another country but…you deal with them. So she smiled brightly, and then dropped her eyes as if she was a little shy so he wouldn’t catch how much she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake the truth out of him. Treat it like you’re an actress in a play, girl. Just play the part of the happy-to-be-here ditz hopped up on hormones. Though, it doesn’t hurt that he is still drop-dead gorgeous, when you set aside the creep factor.
Fortunately, she was never required to actually make any conversation with Sean, only to supply him with an audience. So on the trip up, he chattered away about polo, and how much the cousins enjoyed it, and how this was the annual tournament between his mother’s side of the family and his father’s.
Well, that gave her the opening to make it sound as if she was interested. “Which side is Finn on?” she asked.
He snorted. “Father’s, of course. Which is why he keeps sucking up. He’s the captain of the team, in fact.”
She made a little face. “Hold back my surprise. Do you play?”
“I’m captain of the team for mother’s side,” he replied, surprising her a little. “Father’s idea. I don’t mind; it gives me a chance to put Finn in his place. Anyway, this is how tournament weekend always goes. There’s a formal dinner tonight, with Father in prominent attendance. Everybody goes to bed pretty early, and the first game is at ten A.M. Each match is eight chukkas—that’s like an inning in a baseball game—and the whole match will last a little less than two hours. Then break for lunch, and two matches in the afternoon, break for dinner, and everyone goes to bed early, because polo matches are basically like battles. Same thing Sunday.” As she looked at him a little incredulously, he smirked and shrugged. “Seriously, I promise you, everyone will be too tired Saturday and Sunday to stay up past…say…ten P.M. And that will be late. The cousins take this annual thing very seriously. It’s like, whoever’s side wins the match not only gets bragging rights for the year, but gets some kind of status boost.”
“Let me guess,” she said. “Finn won last year.”
He nodded. “Very sharp of you. And I intend to win this year.” There was that hint of something darker in his tone again…she had to wonder exactly what was really at stake with these games, what was going on behind the scenes. Focus. Use the distraction.
It took all of her will to muster a smile. She put her hand on Sean’s arm, “I’m sure you will, Sean. I’d even put money on it.”
Sean smiled warmly at the compliment. Staci had the simultaneous urges to retch and to swoon, though the latter was much more muted than it had been. She would have given anything to be able to peer inside of his head, and find out exactly how much of him was genuine, and how much was scum.
He pulled his sports car into the driveway, and got out. As usual there was a servant waiting to take it off to be garaged. She reflected that she had never seen the garage. She wondered how many dozens of cars it held, and if any of them were elvensteeds.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm. Without missing a beat, Staci put her arm through his. Still smiling, he led her up the steps and into the mansion. She suspected that this would be the longest weekend she would have had to endure yet since she came to Silence, and that was saying something.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
This time she wore her black silk jumpsuit with an equally vintage black lace top with bell sleeves. She wished she had her grandmother’s cocktail ring that Brenda had stolen. It was about the one thing she owned she thought would impress the Blackthornes.
Something that would impress them would presumably distract them from her. She wanted as many distractions as possible. She wasn’t dazzled by the mansion or any of the other finery anymore; this was a mission, now, and if Tim and Dylan were right, it was literally life or death. Staci had never imagined herself being in a situation like this, but she was damned if she was going to back out now, even if she could.
In a way, it was a good thing that dinner was “formal.” It kept conversation very formal as well, and gave her an excuse to be quiet. Bradan presided over the table like a monarch, with the cousins all attentive to his every word. After aperitifs and other refreshments were served along with the appetizers, Bradan struck a glass with his soup spoon for silence, bringing the hushed conversations around the table to a stop. He cleared his throat, smiling wanly to the assembled Blackthorne clan.
“Our family has always prided itself on excellence: excellence above all others, and excellence among ourselves. The tournament is an extension of our constant striving for greatness; though we all work together towards the elevation of our family name, we still seek singular fame and recognition. I know all of you will do our family proud during the next few days, your devotion being shown in your exertions and competition. With that, I propose a toast.” He raised a wine glass; the full-bodied red wine uneasily reminded Staci of blood. She raised her own glass of ginger ale in response. “I believe I will paraphrase the…Olympic motto.”
And Staci wondered about that pause. Had he been about to say “human” or “mortal” Olympic motto?
“Better. Smarter. Stronger.”
Yeah, I’ll drink to that. For us humans, you pointy-eared freak. She smiled and sipped her ginger ale.
The rest of the dinner proceeded a little differently than the last one she had been at. At the last one, Bradan had been preoccupied with his guests. At this one, he was preoccupied with the cousins, singling out Sean and Finn for admonitions and remarks designed to amp up their already intense rivalry. Bradan, behind his quiet reserve, seemed to enjoy goading the two of them. Given the sick enjoyment that she had been told Unseleighe took in suffering, she wasn’t terribly surprised, but still disgusted. These people make my stepmother seem like a Girl Scout in comparison.
Meaghan—clearly Finn’s girl—stayed completely out of it and completely silent, and Staci followed her example. There was…a lot of testosterone, or whatever the elven equivalent was, on display at the table. It wasn’t just Sean and Finn, it was the males of both teams. Presumably, women were not on either team. Then again, now that Staci thought about it, pretty much all the males among the Blackthorne clan had exhibited varying degrees of belief in “masculine superiority.”
Yet another reason to hate them.
Staci’s attention was drawn to the very end of the table. She had noticed on one of her latest visits that the Blackthornes often seated people at the table in order of importance; Bradan at the head of the table, with people like his personal guests or Sean to his sides, and on down the line. At the very end tonight was Morrigan. While still reserved like the other women, she was clearly fidgeting, drawing a few sharp glances now and a
gain. She looks as uncomfortable as I feel with all of this sexist and macho crap. Wanda’s instincts had, in retrospect, been pretty good so far, with all of the weird and creepy stuff happening around the Blackthornes. Staci needed to remind herself to really apologize to that girl, and soon. Wanda’d been there for her, even when she didn’t think she needed anyone. And her impression about Morrigan—“Mori”—was that she was one of the good ones. I’ll need to let Dylan know about her. Not all of them have to be bad, right?
It was both a relief and a strain when the dinner broke up. A relief because of the high level of tension at that table. A strain because now Sean’s attention would be centered on her.
But just as dessert was cleared away and Bradan signaled dinner was at an end, a servant came hurrying up to him and whispered in his ear. After a few moments, he frowned, and crooked a finger at Sean, who whispered an excuse to her and joined his father. While she sat with hands and napkin folded in her lap like a good little serf, the two of them began what looked like an intense and urgent conversation.
It went on for about fifteen minutes by her watch, and when it was over, Sean arranged his face in an apologetic expression and returned to her while his father got up and hurried off, much to the confusion of the cousins.
Before speaking to her, Sean addressed those still at the table. “I’m afraid one of our current research projects has unexpectedly…shall we say, ‘ripened’? Father and I will need to personally oversee it this weekend. The tournament is postponed.”
She kind of expected disappointment and outrage. Instead there was…well, it looked like a flash of greed on most of their faces. And then, they began breaking up, talking among themselves, and leaving the table. In moments they were gone.
Silence Page 28
