Thief of Lies

by Brenda Drake

  Okay, so he could be my father. Now what? I had to find out all I could about Carrig and his world. I had to know the truth.

  When I returned to my seat, Nick, Afton, and Carrig stared at me as if I was a mental patient just let out of the psych ward.

  “What? I’m fine,” I said.

  “I have something to show you,” Carrig said. He retrieved his wallet from the inside pocket of his trench coat, pulled out a worn photograph, and slid it across the table to me. The edges were tattered and the colors faded. A younger Carrig beamed in the snapshot, his arm wrapped around my mother’s shoulders. Her belly was huge and round, her smile wide and bright.

  I had never seen my mom this happy in a photograph before. We didn’t have many photographs of her back home. There were tons of me with Pop. All taken by my mom. She avoided cameras, and now I knew the reason for it…to stay hidden. But why?

  All these years I had based my mom’s contentment on the one video we had of her. It was my fourth Halloween, and we were dressed like angels, dancing and giggling around the kitchen. The picture was jerky because Pop was laughing along with us while he was recording. I had always believed Mom was happily in love with my stepfather, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  The next item Carrig slid over shocked me. I caught my breath as I scanned the letter written in my mother’s curly script. My head fogged, the edges of my perceived reality of my parents’ happy marriage vaporizing with each word I read.

  My dearest Carrig,

  I will never love another as I love you. I must flee to protect our little one. I fear we are the prophecy. I know of a Pure Witch who will place a protection on the baby and me. Please don’t follow us. It will mean death for all three of us. I pray that one day our family can be together. If this ends badly, know you have made me happier than anything else in my life. I risk all for our love, and I will die protecting our baby.

  Always yours, M*

  I dropped the letter on the table. It isn’t real. It’s a fake. She loved Pop. She married him.

  But there was no mistaking my mother’s characteristic curly M with a star at the end of the line for flair. Every birthday, Christmas, and Easter card to Pop from her—stacked in our memory box back home—had the same exact signature.

  Nick and Afton watched me with those concerned gazes again, so I stared out the window, trying to regain my composure. People rushed by on the sidewalk, and vehicles braked, jolted forward, and sped off on the boulevard. A black cat slinked across the street, reminding me of Nana’s cat, Baron.

  “I’m not expecting you to believe me right off,” Carrig said, bringing my attention back to the table. “But think of the events of the last few days, and ask yourself if it might be true.”

  “Why didn’t someone tell me?” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in.” I took the paper napkin off my lap and wiped my nose with it. “My mother’s letter mentioned a witch?”

  “I’m not too sure I should be telling you this part,” Carrig said. “You haven’t taken the rest so well, yeah?”

  “I’m fine. What could be worse than all the other stuff that’s happened? At least you’re not a deadbeat dad, like I’d thought. My. Entire. Life.” I lifted my glass and took a swig of juice, trying to seem unaffected, even though I wasn’t. What I really wanted to do was go work out, kick some bags, and gather my thoughts.

  “All right, then.” He took another sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “There be only one Pure Witch in these parts skilled enough to master a shielding charm. Her name be Katy Kearns.”

  Juice spurted from my mouth, spraying Nick and the table.

  Nick flinched. “Gross, Gia!”

  I set the glass back on the table. “You said Katy Kearns?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nana?”

  The bell on the door jingled. I’d stopped checking to see who came into the café, but Nick’s shocked expression caused me to turn. “Nana?” I croaked out.

  Nana regarded Carrig. “You might have told me where to meet. If it weren’t for Baron, I wouldn’t have found you.”

  “Me apologies,” Carrig said. “The area be unfamiliar to me, so I was not entirely certain where we’d end up.”

  Nana dropped her designer tote bag on the floor by the table and smoothed a stray strand of hair back toward her chignon. Pop and Nana had the same striking red hair, but hers was streaked with gray. Nana was short and petite, while Pop was big and tall. He took after his dad instead of Nana. Wearing white slacks, a navy blue blouse, and a printed scarf tied elegantly around her neck, she was dressed as if she just stepped off the cover of an over-fifty magazine. At sixty-three, Nana looked younger and was in great shape for her age.

  “Nick, be a good boy and get me a chair,” Nana instructed. She waved her hand in the air as if she was shooing an insect, but I didn’t see anything.

  Nick raised a brow, giving her a curious look, then stood and offered his seat.

  “Thank you. Now that’s a good boy.” Nana patted Nick’s arm. “Would you mind getting me a cup of hot tea? Earl Grey, if they have it, dear.” She scooted the chair closer to me, eased gracefully onto the seat, and cupped my chin with her hand. “I never wanted to hurt you.” Her soft gray-blue eyes stilled me. The same tender eyes that had eased my fears a bazillion times before. “What I’m about to say may sting, but you’re to remember it was done out of love.”

  I sniffed and nodded.

  “Good.” Nana released my chin and gave me a reassuring smile. “There are two kinds of witches in the world. Bane Witches, who wield poisonous hexes, and Pure Witches, who invoke spells and charms for good causes. I am the latter.”

  Afton dropped her fork on the table. “You are a witch?”

  “Is Pop one?”

  “No,” Nana said. “His father was human. He didn’t get any of my magic.”

  Memories of my visits to Nana’s quaint duplex in Mission Hill came rushing in—her black cat that watched me with dissecting eyes, her collection of leather-bound books written in Latin with sketches of plants and animal parts in them, and the eccentric older women who made up her literary tea group. Even the concoction that healed my wound better than the doctor’s ointment. All strange in their own right, but put together, they told a different story. Nana wasn’t just odd—she was a witch. An honest-to-goodness witch. Who’d kept the truth from me, kept me hidden from my father.

  My whole life had been a collection of half-truths and lies. Maybe to protect me, but it was hard to accept. I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or scared. What people could be so horrible that Mom had given up someone she’d supposedly loved to hide me? Wizards… Mystiks… Hunters… who knew what else. My mind swam. What did they think I could do? I had so many questions I didn’t know what to ask first.

  Nick returned, balancing a small steaming teapot in one hand and a cup and saucer in the other. He placed them both in front of Nana.

  “That was fast,” Afton said.

  “It’s just hot water and tea bags.” Nick pulled over another chair and leaned back in it, balancing on two legs. “What’d I miss?”

  “Nana’s a witch,” Afton whispered.

  “So nothing new, then,” he said, slamming the chair back on all fours.

  Nana cleared her throat, giving Nick a stern look. “May I continue?”

  “Um, sure, have at it.” Nick picked up his fork and drummed it on the table. When Nick was nervous, he tended to get fidgety. During tests at school, the teachers were always on him to settle down.

  “Without distraction.”

  Nick paused mid-tap. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Nana said. “Sentinels are born with a certain gene that enables them to create light and weapon globes for battles. The Monitors can detect the gene, which allows them to track a Sentinel while jumping through the gateways. After your mother fled the havens, Gia, she sought my help. She told me people with ill intentions were searching for
her and her baby. I used a branding charm to shield the two of you from discovery. It’s how you got the scar.”

  My hand flew to my chest. “You branded a baby?”

  “I’d never harm a child. I applied a numbing potion to the area beforehand.” She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, avoiding eye contact with me, then cleared her throat again. “As I was saying, your mother and father were both Sentinels. The wizard laws forbid Sentinels from having children together because a seer prophesied that a child from such a union would herald the coming end for both the human and Mystik worlds. Marty fled to keep you safe.”

  Nana removed the top of the teapot, grabbed the tags tethered to the two bags inside, and dunked them up and down. Her lips pressed into a tight line. She did that whenever she couldn’t get up the nerve to deliver bad news.

  “Just say it, Nana,” I urged.

  “It is believed that you are that child.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m…what?” I knocked my glass over.

  Nick watched the river of juice course across the table. “I think she said you’re the Doomsday Child.”

  Nana and Afton grabbed napkins from the silver dispenser on the table and caught the flow before the orange stream cascaded over the table’s edge.

  “Nick.” Afton shook her head and dabbed at the table. “Can you be any more insensitive?”

  He scowled. “What the hell? She’s not the only one dealing with all the shit going down, lately.”

  “Watch your language, young man,” Nana warned.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, still stunned. “I’ve made a mess.”

  “Nonsense, it was an accident, is all.” Nana added her napkins to Afton’s pile.

  I rubbed my temples to soothe a blossoming headache. “Let’s say I believe you. Why didn’t Arik and the others know about me? And now that they know, aren’t I in more danger from them than anyone else? And…and…if you were hiding me, how did Carrig find you?”

  “So many questions.” Nana pursed her lips. “Firstly, only Arik and Asile’s high wizard, Merl, know the truth, and they will protect you. Your birth may have put the end in motion, but they believe you’re the key to stopping it, as well. The others are unaware of your parentage. You must never tell anyone who your birth father is. The wizards and the Mystiks believe the presage hasn’t been born yet, and we shall keep it that way for as long as possible. To answer your other question, Cleo is my spy, you might say. She informed me about your phone conversations with Nick and Afton—the ones where you rehashed the accidental jump to Paris and the narrow escape with a hunter on the subway. I figured you were in danger and your best protection was Carrig. I contacted him through an address your mother once gave me for emergencies. Thankfully, he received my note.”

  “Cleo?” I said. “My cat?” My head started to pound. More lies. Branding spells. And furry spies. Can I trust anyone?

  “I can talk to animals, especially cats. Most witches can. You’ve heard of familiars, right? Baron is mine. Cleo belongs to your aunt. We sent her to watch over you”—she rolled a teaspoon handle between her fingers—“to be my eyes, so to speak.”

  “Gia, it’s a great honor to be a Sentinel,” Carrig said and puffed out his chest.

  “I know something of Sentinels from video games,” Nick said. “They’re badass guards that protect things.”

  “’Tis sort of the idea—” Carrig seemed irritated by Nick’s interruption. “They were created from knights, and have very little magic compared to wizards but are great fighters.”

  “Wicked,” Nick muttered. “So it’s an actual word?”

  “Duh, it’s in the dictionary.” Afton rolled her eyes. “It actually means guard. I mean, seriously, how do you get good grades?”

  “For Jaysus sakes,” Carrig growled. “Will you stop your blathering and let a man think?”

  We all nodded.

  Nana took my hands. “Are you doing okay, dear?”

  “How can I be fine? My whole world just… I don’t know.” I lowered my head, trying to garner the strength to be brave. “Can you tell me something? Did my mother ever love Pop?”

  She squeezed my shaking hands. “Of course she did, sweetie. Your pop fell in love with her the moment I introduced them, and shortly after, he asked her to marry him. He was so delighted to be a father to her newborn daughter. You’re his entire world, Gia.”

  “You said he loved her, but did she love him?”

  Nana released my hands, lifted her cup to her lips, and put it down without taking a sip. “I believe she cared deeply for him, but it couldn’t replace the love she had for Carrig. It was that love that caused her death.”

  Carrig choked on a mouthful of toast. “What?”

  “We were out shopping, Marty, Gia, and I,” Nana said. “Little Gia had darted into the busy street. Marty caught her and handed her to me. Before Marty stepped up onto the curb, something across the street distracted her. Her face brightened, and she tried to cross traffic.” Her voice cracked. “That’s when a van struck her. The last thing she spoke was your name, Carrig. I believe she saw you.”

  “It wasn’t me. I’ve never been here before today.” Tears tumbled from Carrig’s eyes. He lowered his head and wiped them away with his fists.

  Not one of us moved or said a word. When it seemed he wouldn’t recover from the news, I placed my hand over his balled fist, and he looked at me with surprise. I knew how he felt.

  I removed my hand and turned my attention to Nana. “I guess Pop doesn’t know about any of this, huh?”

  “Marty never told him, figuring the fewer people who knew your true identity, the less likely you’d be found.” Nana lifted the teacup again, and again she placed it down without taking a sip. “She feared if the havens found you, they would train you to be the force the seer foretold.”

  “’Tis not clear what be your abilities,” Carrig interrupted, fully recovered except for the red rimming his eyes. “No one has had two Sentinel parents before.”

  “So I’m a freak, right?”

  “Now then, don’t be flattering yourself. You’re merely special, is all.” A hint of a smile crept over Carrig’s lips. “Our professor of wizardry will determine just how special that be when he meets you.”

  Nana removed a black travel case from her tote and then retrieved some sort of hand-held tool from it.

  A shocked expression crossed Afton’s face. “Is that a tattoo gun?” She’d know the tools. The year before, she had been obsessed about getting a butterfly on her foot, but her parents wouldn’t let her.

  “It is.” Nana pulled out a power cord and handed it to Nick. “Will you plug this into the wall, dear?”

  “Nana, people are watching.” I imagined someone using a cell phone to record her and post it on YouTube.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve placed an illusion spell around our table. People only see us eating breakfast and talking.”

  Nick gave the plug a curious eye, shrugged, and stretched it across to the wall.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Nana.

  “I’m setting up.” She reached into her tote and retrieved a set of rubber gloves, a handful of wrapped needles, and several bottles with colored ink. Next, she pulled out a jar with a small amount of clear liquid inside, a spray bottle, and various other items I’d never seen before.

  “Wow, Nana Kearns is a tattoo artist,” Nick joked.

  “Well, I find branding people archaic,” Nana said, as she worked at putting her tools together. “Plus, with the activists in the Mystik world preaching to witches to stop cruelty to humans, I switched to tattooing charms into the skin instead of branding them.”

  I glanced at the other tables. No one paid attention to Nana and her makeshift tattoo parlor. A girl coming from the bathroom walked by and stumbled over the cord stretched across the floor. She looked back, shrugged, and continued to her table.

  “Who are you inking a charm on?” I asked.

  Nana
held up the bottle containing the clear liquid. “There’s barely enough potion left for two. I got the shielding spell from an ancient spell book I found in Romania. Ruth Ann from my tea club borrowed it, thinking it was a simple spell book. Your aunt Eileen got it back for me. When she returned with the book, someone had torn out the page with the recipe and Ruth Ann had vanished. There are some dangerous spells in that book. To be safe, I placed a charm on it. It won’t leave the house again, you can be certain of that.”

  “Two tattoos will be enough,” Carrig said, stopping Nana’s rambling.

  “Naaana. Who are you putting tattoos on?”

  “Afton and Nick, of course.”

  “Oh, no you’re not,” Nick said.

  Afton’s eyes fixed on the needle Nana was attaching to the gun. “My dad will bust my butt if I get one!”

  “Nonsense. You have no choice if you want to live,” Nana said, as if Afton had just refused sugar for her tea.

  Carrig turned in his chair to face Afton and Nick. “You wouldn’t want any beasts like the one you encountered in Paris finding you, wouldja?”

  “It only stings a bit,” Nana added. “That’s what the girl said, anyway. I normally do evil-eye protections, luck charms, and things of that matter.” Nana twisted the black ink bottle into the gun. “I’m getting good at tats.”

  Needles freaked me out, and this one looked extra sharp. “Uh–um– What girl?”

  “I’ll tell her as you get about working on Nick,” Carrig said. “It’s nearing twelve, and Afton’s da will be here shortly. And Nick should go with her.”

  “I can’t go home,” Nick said. “Those guys know where I live.”

  “They only know the neighborhood you live in. Hunters be like puppets with no brains. If they can’t sense you anymore, they can’t find you.”

  Nick looked doubtfully at Carrig. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am,” Carrig said. I believed the conviction in his voice.

  “Okay.” Nick swallowed hard as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Stick it to me.” He puffed his chest out.