“Form a barrier against those who mean harm.”
I’m relaxed. I’m relaxed. I’m relaxed. I repeat Persephone’s words.
“Stay arm in arm, sound the alarm and then unarm.”
The words come out slow as they’re a bit of a tongue twister, and I don’t want to get them wrong. What happens if you get a spell wrong? Does the opposite happen? Or does it ruin the whole thing and you have to start over? I’m pretty sure Persephone would be mad either way.
“Until the threat is gone.”
I repeat the words without delay. Silence. Are we done? I peek out of one eye at Persephone. There’s a look of annoyance on her face. I’m guessing I didn’t do so well.
“I’m impressed with your ability to rhyme,” I tell her, trying to suck up a little.
“Shhh!”
I press my lips together and watch as Persephone looks around us, waiting, listening. The spell didn’t work. She fixes me with a look, eyebrows pulled low, her mouth an upside down smile that clearly says it’s all my fault.
Jude holds the rank of king among demons, and he is said to have been created second only to Lucifer.
Lucifer. I shiver and swallow. “Should we do it again?” I ask meekly.
“Do you think you can focus?” Her tone is not harsh so much as exasperated.
I nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
“It’s not just about focusing,” she says, her voice gentler this time as she adjusts her position on her cushion. “It’s about visualization. You need to imagine the gemstones and the branches fusing together around Jude in your mind. Spells are all about manipulating energy, and visualization is a stronger form of energy.” Persephone waits for some acknowledgement that I get it.
I nod.
“Use visualization to control and direct the magical energy. You must see it in your mind in order for it to work. Does that make sense?”
“I think so.”
Persephone takes several deep breaths. I do the same. As I repeat her words, I imagine the black tourmaline turning to liquid and melding with the birch branches. They become one, then grow tall and wide, like a wall surrounding Jude.
I gasp when I realize that in my vision, Jude’s wearing the same outfit he had on the night of homecoming. The shirt that wound up soaked with my blood. I shake off the image. I focus on the wall, the impenetrable barrier. It grows taller and thicker. Jude is safe.
“Until the threat is gone.” I open my eyes as I state the final words of the spell, my attention still focused inward on my vision.
Persephone nods at the tray on the floor between us. I inhale sharply as a glowing ball of energy swirls around Jude’s business card. It picks up speed. I focus on my inner visualization, afraid that if I stop, whatever this is will stop. I’m guessing this is supposed to be happening or Persephone would’ve done something about it. I continue to imagine the wall of stone and wood growing thicker and taller.
Suddenly, the magical orb speeds up, racing faster and faster around Jude. It bounces off the larger of the two gemstones and ricochets across the room, smashing through the small, octagon-shaped window.
“What was that?” I ask.
Persephone smiles. “The magical spell is headed over to Jude’s.” Then her smile falls away. Both goddess statues on her alter lay broken in half. “A consequence.”
Uneasiness swirls inside of me. I never heard the statues break. Maybe it happened at the same time the ball of energy shattered the window? “What do you mean? Why?”
“I used good magic to help someone evil.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
On Thursday I come home from school and stop short when I find my uncles talking with Camille in the foyer. The three of them huddle together, their voices low.
I move close as Sheldon takes her hand in both of his. “It’s lovely to meet you, Camille. You and Marcus should join us for dinner.”
“I’d like that,” she says.
I close the foyer door behind me noisily.
All three of them turn to me.
“How was school, Luce?” Bernard asks.
First, Jude shows up unannounced and uninvited, forcing a meeting with my uncles. Now, Camille. It’s bad enough she stood beside Garret after he attacked her son. What does she want with my uncles?
“Um…fine, I think.”
Camille’s eyes are red. What did she tell them? Did she reveal the truth about Jude? I take in Sheldon’s watery eyes, his bottom lip pushed out. Bernard nods eagerly, looking a little distracted. I bet he’s already planning the dinner menu.
But neither of them are freaking out. So she didn’t tell them anything. Not about demons, witches, and gargoyles, anyway.
Camille moves to shake Bernard’s hand, and he pulls her into a hug.
“I look forward to seeing you soon.” He pats her gently on the back. “Come for coffee anytime.”
“It’s the best coffee I’ve had since my days in Seattle.” Camille’s lips pull into a crooked smile. Marcus has the same smile.
Hostility burns inside of me. Jealousy?
“Hello, Lucy.” Camille acknowledges me as she pulls out of Bernard’s embrace. “It’s always nice to see you.” She moves to hug me.
I take a step back and open the foyer door so she can leave. This is the same woman who abandoned Marcus, and who even now sides with Garret over her son. She can burn in hell for all I care. Maybe I should ask Jude to put in a special request for her.
“What’s up with the love fest?” I demand to know once she’s gone.
“Such a remarkable woman,” Sheldon says, following Bernard and me into the apartment as he wipes his eyes with a handkerchief.
Bernard nods. “So brave, revealing the ugliest parts of her past.”
“What exactly did she tell you?” I’m sure she left out the part where she stood by while Garret was about to sink his nasty fangs into Marcus’s shoulder.
“That she left Marcus and his stepfather all those years ago. Did you know about that?” Sheldon asks.
So, she told them some of the truth. Interesting. But why? What’s her angle? “I did…I mean, I do. Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”
“Of course not.” Bernard pats my shoulder. “Poor Marcus. He’s been through a lot. And now his birth father wants to reconnect with him, too, on the heels of his stepfather’s death? That’s a lot to take in.”
I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans and focus on my shoes. And then I go and kiss Dylan. Maybe I’m more like Momma than I thought. What if I don’t live long enough to make it up to him?
“Lucy, go call Marcus and see if he wants to join us for dinner,” Sheldon calls over his shoulder as he follows Bernard to the kitchen. “We’re making burgers and your favorite, tater tots.”
“O…okay.” I resolve to tell Marcus tonight. He deserves to know the truth.
I head to my room and dump my backpack on my desk. I pull my cell from my purse, press two buttons, then swallow hard.
“Hey, stranger.” Happiness washes over me the second I hear his voice, followed by more guilt. “I was beginning to think you’re avoiding me.”
I mentally run through our recent conversation. Marcus knew I had to work with Persephone last night. We texted Monday over lunch and after school. Yesterday? Nothing.
Oh, my God. He’s going to know something’s up. An image of Dylan and me pressed against the bathroom door at Jude’s flashes through my thoughts. My skin tingles with excitement. Stop it! I tell myself. I slump into my desk chair, squeezing my eyes closed as guilt consumes me.
Marcus bursts out laughing. “Are you still there? I’m just kidding. Relax.”
I finally find my voice. “My uncles are making burgers and tater tots for dinner. You’re invited to join us.”
“Hmmm…Dylan’s usually the one who gets invited to dinner.”
“I know. I have to be honest…” I almost choke on the word. “They spoke with your mom today. The three of them had
coffee. She just left. I think she shared the whole story with them.”
He pauses on the other end of the line. “The whole story?”
“Not the part about you and Garret being protectors and not about Jude or how Garret attacked you,” I say quickly. “The other part, about her taking off. Sheldon and Bernard called her brave.”
It takes him a while to respond. “Interesting.”
“I thought so, too.” I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. “If it helps you to make a decision, I’m told Sheldon makes the best burgers.” I immediately regret saying it.
“Let me guess…by Dylan?”
“Please come.” There’s a part of me that wouldn’t mind if he declines, and I hate myself for it.
“Sure. I’ll come. I can’t believe I haven’t kissed you since Saturday. How is that possible?”
My laugh sounds robotic. “I don’t know.”
So lame.
An hour and a half later I’m done with homework. I brush my hair, apply cherry lip balm, and join my uncles in the kitchen.
“I’ll set the table.” I volunteer as Sheldon takes a platter of raw patties and a veggie burger outside to the grill.
While the smell of tater tots baking is delicious, the heat from the oven is oppressive. I jump as water hisses on top of the stove. Bernard lifts the lid on the steamer and fills it with broccoli.
He glances over his shoulder at me. “Put all the condiments on the table, too, will you?”
“Sure.”
When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, I move on leaden legs to the living room and open the door for Marcus.
He smiles at me, and I’m torn between feeling like the happiest girl alive and the worst girlfriend ever. He pulls me into his embrace.
“I’ve missed you.” He buries his face in my hair.
I wrap my arms around him and inhale his amazing smell. That familiar stirring comes to life inside of me. The kind of attraction I feel for Marcus makes my heart swell and my toes curl. When his arms are around me, I feel safe, loved, and excited. With Dylan, it’s dangerous and desperate. It’s the wrong kind of hot, like we’re going to catch fire. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“Yeah?” The word comes out soft and slow. His eyes burn into mine.
Our lips meet and my arms automatically circle his neck. These are the lips I know. His kisses are gentle, probing, loving, not hard and demanding like Dylan’s.
Marcus winds his fingers through my hair. “Thank you for that,” he says, a satisfied smile on his face.
I tug on his arm. “Come on in. You’re a VIP at our table tonight.”
“Maybe I should’ve told them my sad tale a long time ago,” Marcus teases as he follows me to the kitchen.
My uncles decline Marcus’s offer to help and direct him to a chair. I pour lemonade for everyone.
Marcus lifts his glass and looks curiously at the green stems in the liquid.
“It’s rosemary,” I tell him.
“Herbed lemonade is all the rage right now,” Bernard says, taking a long draw from his glass. “Lucy learned about it before I did, if you can believe it.”
Marcus studies me over his glass. I wink back at him. My original intention with the rosemary was to help my uncles keep their cool when we talk about the vacation—something I learned in Gram’s books—and now it’s their favorite beverage.
“Marcus, we met Camille this afternoon. She’s an intriguing woman.” Sheldon carries the platter of burgers in through the back door.
“She is.” Marcus dips a tater tot in ketchup, then pops it in his mouth. Our eyes meet and I suspect he’s wondering the same thing as me. What’s Camille up to? Maybe she’s trying to get to Marcus through my uncles?
“She mentioned she’s a fan of the arts. Do you think she’d be interested in joining us at the opera next month?”
“Maybe. You’d have to ask her,” Marcus says with a shrug.
My uncles seem to pick up on Marcus’s reluctance to talk about his mother and, fortunately, there’s no more talk of her through the rest of the meal.
While my uncles and I clean up the kitchen—they forbid the guest of honor from helping—Marcus offers to grab my sweatshirt from my bedroom for our trip to the roof. I bite my lip and turn away as he leaves the room.
I need to tell him. I can’t keep it inside any longer. If someone as awful as Camille can be brave and confess to my uncles how she abandoned her son, then I can be brave and tell Marcus about my kiss with Dylan.
Marcus is quiet as he helps me over the railing.
He knows something. But how? I study him out of the corner of my eye. I move around him and am about to sit down in our normal spot when he clears his throat. I look up. He hands me my cell phone.
“It kept buzzing when I was in your room.” Marcus’s expression is pinched. “Someone was eager to get in touch with you. I thought it might be Jude, that he’d get upset if he couldn’t reach you.”
My heart sinks like a lead weight. It’s impossible to read his expression, but his detached tone scares me. Not cold, exactly, more like he’s talking to a complete stranger. He gestures for me to take the phone. “Text messages. You should read them.”
Three messages and they’re all from Dylan. I don’t want to read them, but what else can I do while Marcus’s eyes burn holes into me?
I lick my lips nervously. I glance at Marcus, see his unwavering stare, then look back at my phone.
I click on the first message. You can’t hate me forever, you know. I’m sorry about the kiss.
Okay. Not so bad. I can explain this to Marcus.
I click on the second message. But tell the truth. It was incredible. I know you felt it, too.
I try to inhale, but my lungs won’t cooperate. I glance at Marcus. “I can explain…”
Marcus narrows his eyes. “Please continue.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “The last one is my favorite.”
Jude’s right. We’re meant to be together. It’s time to dump Marcus.
My stomach spasms as fear rips through me, fear that Marcus is going to dump me here on the roof. I slip my phone into my back pocket with an unsteady hand.
“So this whole time you and Dylan…” Marcus spits out the words. “Demon training?”
“We have been training.” The words sound defensive. Will he mistake it for guilt? Then again…I am guilty. I kissed Dylan back. I felt what he felt. I didn’t want to, but I did.
“Right,” he grinds out the word. “And plenty of other stuff, too, apparently.”
“Marcus, please. It didn’t mean anything. I swear.” Tears burn my eyes, my throat. “I love you—”
“And Dylan? Do you love him?”
“No! I mean, as a friend…yes, but not romantically. Not anything close to how I feel about you. It was a mistake.”
Marcus rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I have to go.”
I reach for him. “Wait…Marcus!”
“Don’t you get it? I can’t be around you right now,” he chokes. “If only you could see your face.”
He swings his leg over the ledge and jumps off the building.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What happened to carpooling with Dylan in the mornings?” Katie complains.
I slam my locker door and sling my backpack over my shoulder as we head to lunch. “Dylan and I aren’t talking right now,” I confess.
She grabs my arm and yanks me out of hallway traffic. “What happened?”
I can’t look her in the eye.
Katie gasps. “You didn’t.”
Am I that transparent?
“Did you two make out or something?”
I pull my hair over my shoulder, twist it over and over as I will the tears not to come. Finally, I nod, not trusting my voice.
Katie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Holy crap! Does Marcus know?”
I nod again, my eyes brimming.
“How mad is he?”
I spu
tter and roll my tear-filled eyes at her.
“Okay. Dumb question. Did he break up with you?”
“I…don’t…know.” I hiccup. “He’s…not…talking…to…me.”
“What’re you going to do?”
Tears slide down my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly and turn my face away from the students walking by. I swallow several times, struggling to get myself under control.
“I don’t know. Dylan likes to visit his brother and sister on Saturday when I babysit.” I pull a tissue from my purse and blow my nose. “I texted him, told him not to come this weekend. He’s mad at me, too, since I slapped him.” I shake my head miserably. “So, he’s not responding.”
“You slapped Dylan?” Katie does that thing again with her eyeballs. “Oh, my God. I bet he’s furious.”
“I don’t care,” I snap. “He knows I have a boyfriend. He shouldn’t have started it.”
I see the look on Katie’s face. I just told her a few minutes ago that Dylan and I made out. This isn’t all Dylan’s fault. But she’s too nice to point it out right now.
My shoulders slump. “I’m a bad person.”
Katie hooks her arm through mine and leads me down the hall. “What I mean is…let’s face it, it’s Dylan. The cockiest guy we know. You’re choosing Marcus over him. That’s why he’s so mad.” She squeezes my arm. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, but if you think so, then fix it. Make things right.”
* * * *
That night I call Dylan and, luckily, get his voicemail.
“Hey, Dylan, it’s Lucy.” I pause for a moment, but then remember this is voicemail. I don’t want to be cut off. “First, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have slapped you. What happened at Jude’s…it was my fault, too, so I’m sorry.” I cross and uncross my legs. Finally, I shift, pull my feet onto my bed and pick at the already-chipped dark blue nail polish on my toes. “Um, next, I’m not sure if you got my other message, but it would be best for you to skip your visits with Ethan and Brandi on Saturdays for a while. I’m sorry. I know how hard it is for you to see them when Alana’s around, but this is best for now.” I re-read the piece of paper on my bed and write a check mark next to the first two items. “And, I’d love to skip going to Jude’s house on Sunday, but you know I can’t. So…I need you to stay away for a while. Jude’s totally going to freak, but I’ll deal with him. I’ll check to see if he wants you to train on another day.”
The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series Page 13
