THE BAZAAR (The Devany Miller Series)

by Jen Ponce

  "What did you tell them about me? How dare you make out that I'm the bad guy?"

  I waited for my own anger to rise up in answer. Instead, calm flooded me. "I didn't. I only told them you and I were having troubles."

  He began cleaning up the table, his movements sharp and angry. "Liam wouldn't talk to me. Bethany asked me if I was moving out. Sure as hell sounds like you made me out to be the bad guy."

  "Perhaps they got that impression because you didn't bother coming home yesterday, didn't bother making sure they had dinner, or that they did their homework like you've done every other day of their lives." My stomach clenched, my calm trickling from me. I didn't want to get into another fight. I took a deep breath to center myself, not sure if I'd be able to. My previous attempts at meditation or intentional calming left me irritated. “I thought we were talking to them together. I didn't realize you'd ditch all of us.”

  "I had to think. I couldn't come home. I was a wreck. But that didn't give you the right to turn my kids against me."

  I made a face, still waiting for the guests in my head to make an appearance. Nothing. "Knock it off."

  He stared at me. "What?"

  I put a hand on my hip. "Knock. It. Off."

  Tom shook his head as if still incapable of understanding what I meant. Or maybe it was that I didn't take such a forceful stance with him. I was a negotiator, a peacekeeper.

  Not anymore.

  "If you don't want to believe me, don't. I don't care. But don't keep accusing me of the same thing over and over. You don't believe me? Ask the kids. Ask them what I said to them." I collected the dirty silverware and helped him load the dishwasher, the domestic chore making the whole situation surreal.

  For a while, we worked in silence, and then there was nothing left to keep us from each other, from the situation. Situation. Funny euphemism for the end of a marriage.

  "You're different," Tom said, finally.

  "Yes."

  He reached out a hand and laid it on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

  "Me too." I put my hand over his, gave it a brief squeeze and then moved it away. The hurt in his gaze made my own heart ache, but I couldn't comfort him. Didn't want to.

  He looked down at his feet. "My lawyer says I shouldn't move out of the house."

  Lawyer. "Oh?" My anger spiked. Neutria awoke.

  Kill him. Betrayer.

  Relief mingled with my anger. She wasn't pissed.

  "Dev? Are you listening?"

  "I can't believe you've already been to a lawyer. In a hurry, are you? I haven't even gotten over the shock of it and you're already visiting a lawyer. Huh." Feeling like I might punch him, I quickly put the center counter between us.

  "It's not as cold as it sounds."

  "Oh?" He attempted to come toward me but I put a hand out to stop him. "Don't. Just don't."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, you keep saying that." I left before I could act on Neutria's suggestions. Sorry, sorry. Ugh. I hated that word. I didn't have to look at the clock to know it was the perfect day to go to work early, and headed upstairs to get ready.

  "Devany? I have the day off. We can talk. Get things straightened out."

  "I can't," I called back down from halfway up the stairs. "I have to meet a client today at ten. Sorry."

  "Dev. We need to talk about this. Get settled what we're going to do."

  I ignored him, which was rude, I know, and proceeded to change for work. I put on a flouncy purple dress that I hadn't had the desire to wear until today. Today I needed something upbeat and a little frivolous.

  I slipped on sandals, the lover's balm necklace from the fair and, after a moment's hesitation, took off my wedding ring and shut it away in my jewelry box. For now. Maybe forever.

  Tom waited at the bottom of the stairs, taking in my outfit without expression. What was he thinking? I kinda hoped he wondered why I'd dressed up, or maybe I looked so hot he was wracked with guilt that he'd cheated. More likely, he thought I'd screwed up his plans. "I'll be home at five. Will you be here for the kids?"

  He nodded.

  "See you then. After they go to bed, then we can talk."

  "I wanted to talk to them as a family tonight."

  I picked up my purse, grabbed my keys and hefted their weight in my hand. "Kind of missed that boat, didn't you?”

  “Devany.”

  “Fine. You want to talk. About what?” I found myself squeezing the keys so hard my hand throbbed. I hooked a finger into a ring and let them dangle before I drew blood.

  He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the thin black strands. "That we love them. That both of us will be in their lives no matter what happens."

  "All right." As I put my hand on the door, someone knocked, startling me. I looked through the peephole and was stunned to see the man from the fair—the sugar salesman. Holy shit. What was he doing at my house?

  'Arsinua? Hello?' I asked, in my head. No answer.

  Tom looked at me. "Who is it?"

  "Uh." Great answer, Devany. I opened the door. "Hello?"

  He had on tight blue jeans that molded to his thighs and gave me a hint at how well-endowed he was. Smooth blue material slid over his chest and outlined his wiry muscles. "I need your help." He dismissed Tom, turning his attention to me.

  "My help? Of course. But you should have come to the office," I said, stepping out the door and leaving Tom in his befuddlement. Before shutting the door, I leaned to Tom and whispered, "New girl at work. She's been giving out home addresses. Big no-no. I don't think she'll last long." I shut the door before Tom could say anything or ask anything. He brimmed with questions; I saw them on his face.

  "What are you doing here? At my house?"

  The man ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I need Arsinua's help. I heard through the aether that she was here. Somewhere. Do you know where she is?"

  I pushed a button on my key chain and waved vaguely at the passenger seat. He slid in beside me and we buckled up. "Arsinua." Yeah. And what was I going to say? He sold magic sugar—actual magic sugar—and he knew Arsinua, so surely he would believe me when I told him what had happened. Wouldn't he?

  "Why do you need her?"

  "Things have gotten … unbalanced in Midia since she left. She helped keep the peace between the covens, but now there's fighting." He rubbed his palms down the front of his pants. "There are some rumors she's dead. Others that she was working for a Skriven." He spat the word. "She would never do that. She hated them."

  Too much information too soon. I had no idea about most of what he was saying. I did know that he had a bad case of hero worship and his hero had indeed been working for a Skriven.

  To my inner companion, I said, 'Arsinua? You there? This would be a great time for you to wake up!'

  "Do you know where she is?" His voice held a bit of panic.

  "Yes." I gripped the steering wheel as I backed out of the drive, noticing Tom peeking at me through the curtains. What did he hope to see? The two of us in a heated embrace in the driveway? Ha. He was the cheater, not me.

  "Where is she? Can you get a message to her?"

  "It's not that simple." I put the car in gear and drove away, toward work since I had no idea what else to do. "There was an accident."

  He'd been plucking at his seat belt but his hands stilled. "She survived the attack, didn’t she?"

  "Yes and no."

  He huffed. "You can't give me a straight answer. The fate of Midia hangs on finding Arsinua and you are playing with words."

  Zech has always been rather melodramatic. I doubt a bit of witches' politics would affect an entire world.

  In my surprise at her finally appearing, I said aloud, "It's about time you show up."

  Zech glanced over at me, startled. "What? You were expecting me?"

  "No, not you." I took a deep breath. "Arsinua."

  He frowned, looked around. "Where? What are you talking of? Did your time in our world touch your mind?"

  I held
up a hand. "Just shut up a minute." Ha. I guess I was getting bossier by the minute. 'Arsinua, what do you want me to tell him?'

  The truth. He needs to know. The pain in her voice was evident. Even my bargain with the Skriven. I am ashamed for him to know of it, but he must.

  "Fine. Listen, Zech."

  "How did you know my name? Did she talk about me?"

  His eagerness touched me and I couldn't shoot him down. "Well, yeah." Just a second ago. "There's something you need to know. Several somethings."

  "Where is she?"

  "Shut up and I'll tell you." I stopped at a light, and then gave him my mom stare. You know the one. Stop it or I'll reverse the birthing process and return you from whence you came. That kind of look.

  He shut up.

  "After you let me into Midia—"

  "Not Midia, the hook."

  Another look. He squeezed his lips together.

  "Whatever. I talked to a woman with wild gray hair and then all hell broke loose. Some crazy chick with purple hair stabbed Arsinua and they took me, her, and a few others to another place. I still don’t know where we were; they called it the Bazaar. They chained us up. The two people with us were dying.” My stomach cramped. I hit the gas when the light blinked to green and zipped through the intersection, trying to forget the look on their faces as they lay suffering. “Anyway, some kind of spider assassin pounced, wanting this magic rock thingy Arsinua made. We kind of blew up.” My visit with Tytan I decided to leave out. For now.

  He tipped his head at me. "Are you sure you know where Arsinua is?"

  "She's here. Inside me."

  He chuckled, then looked at my face and convinced himself I told the truth. "How?"

  "The explosion.”

  He sucked in air.

  Tell him the rest. Explain. Please.

  Her heartache was as painful as my own. I rubbed at my chest with my fist. “She tried to make a deal with a Skriven. Tried to gain power for your people and to stop those assholes stealing and killing people for magic. Of course, he managed to trick her into making a heart that would allow him to be physical in our worlds.” I sounded like a maniac. Good thing he knew what I was talking about, though he looked pissed as hell.

  "She's in you, now?"

  "Yes." I snuck a peek at him. His cheeks were pale. He looked like Liam did after riding the squirrel cages at the fair. "You going to throw up?"

  He shook his head, but I didn't believe him. I hoped he'd aim his upchuck away from my lavender dress.

  "Can she hear me?"

  "Yes. She knows what I think, sees what I see."

  Anger contorted his face. "You tell her," he started, then hesitated, his voice cracking with the force of his emotion. "You tell her," again, he stopped. Shook his head.

  He'll never forgive me, she said, her voice full of sorrow.

  "Listen, I don't know why she made the heart in the first place. She had her reasons. But she tried to do the right thing by getting rid of it. She changed her mind. She faced down an assassin spider—and believe me, you do not want to face down an assassin spider. She would've died to keep the heart from the Skriven." I stopped at another light behind a chugging car that looked to be more rust than metal. Zech's breathing was ragged. What he thought, I didn't know.

  Thank you. You don't have to defend me, but I appreciate it. I don't deserve you to think that I'm a brave person. I'm a coward.

  "Listen, I don't know why you bargained with the Skriven. Maybe someday you'll tell me that story. I do know you tried to do the right thing in the end. That's good. And you're being honest about it now, which is even better."

  Zech cleared his throat.

  Tell him I said sorry.

  I almost laughed, even though it wasn't funny. But I couldn't help thinking of Tom's sorry and how I'd dismissed it, whereas now I felt sentimental and hopeful that Zech would accept Arsinua's apology. What kind of a hypocrite was I? "She says to tell you she's sorry."

  Zech waited until we'd pulled into my normal spot at the Caring Shelter before speaking. I killed the engine and angled my body toward him. He pressed his clenched hands to his forehead. "I don't know why she would make any sort of deal with a Skriven. It goes against what we believe in." He swallowed. "I don't know if I can forgive her either."

  My heart gave a tug at that. Even though I understood where he was coming from, the betrayal he must feel, I still felt bad for Arsinua. Did that mean I should rethink what I felt about Tom?

  "But we need her help. The Coven of the Lotus still needs her. Can you—she—still do magic?"

  I can. And if I teach you, I think that the both of us, working together, could be powerful.

  Right. "Uh, she says yes."

  He nodded. "There's a meeting tonight. Sacred Crow Park. If you can come.” He cleared his throat. "If you can come, please, Arsinua. We need you. Now that you've disappeared, the Witch's Council is reconsidering the requests of Yarnell and his group."

  Arsinua hissed deep within my mind. I wanted to hiss myself. Yarnell. I remembered him. The asshole who’d had Arsinua stabbed and who let those people die.

  I will be there.

  "We'll be there.”

  Zech nodded, already opening the door. "Thank you." Once he was out of the car, he ducked his head and leaned back into the car. "Arsinua?"

  Yes? The one word was filled with so much hope, it ached inside me.

  "Pleasant nights."

  The door slammed shut and I sat alone, confused. Was that a good thing, then?

  The slow settling of Arsinua inside me, the peace that eased some of my muscles led me to believe that it was a good thing. I didn't ask, leaving her to her private thoughts.

  ELEVEN

  Five o'clock came quickly and I still hadn't come up with an excuse to slip away from the family to make it to Midia tonight. Perhaps I could say that I was on call. I rarely took the hotline at night since I worked the office during the day, but sometimes I took it when I had a skittish client who needed a lot of support. I wasn't looking forward to family night, nor the discussion Tom wanted to have with the kids.

  He'd better be able to keep his temper under control. Although I supposed I had more to worry about in me than in him. I had a witch, a spider, and a magical heart inside me. What did he have? The kitchen sink?

  I hung up my purse and keys, slipped off my shoes and wandered into the living room where the kids and Tom were watching a movie. I sat down beside Bethany and wrapped my arms around her. After a brief struggle, she relaxed into me. Liam curled in one of the recliners, his nose in a book.

  "What're you reading?"

  "Dad got me a book on soccer strategy."

  "Cool."

  "Yeah. There are a lot of cool moves I want to try tomorrow on the field." He hadn't looked up from his book. I smiled and then noticed Tom, who stared at me. My smile faded. Bethany was glued to the set. Funny. Liam was the TV fanatic and Bethy the reader.

  "Anything new, Magoo?"

  "Nope." She covered my mouth with her hand. "Shh. This is a good part."

  I glanced at the screen then back at Tom who dropped his eyes. A month ago, Tom and I had decided Bethany was too young to see the movie playing on the screen. I pushed my anger away, telling myself it wasn't worth arguing over. To Arsinua, I thought, 'When do I have to leave to get to the meeting on time?'

  Let me check.

  I waited, watching a particularly graphic scene full of blood and gore with a wince. Bethany winced too.

  Another two hours at the least. Time runs slower there.

  "Devany? What do you think?"

  I blinked. "I wasn't listening. What?"

  Tom sighed. "Let's turn off the movie and go into the kitchen. I bought ice cream. We could sit around and talk."

  Liam groaned. "Do I have to? I hate ice cream."

  "Since when?" I poked him with my toes and he tried to hide his smile when I found his ticklish spot. "Huh? Huh?"

  "Stop! Okay, I'll eat ice cre
am. Geez." He pushed my foot away and carefully marked his place in the book. Tom turned off the movie, relieved, I think, and Bethany, Liam, and I followed him into the kitchen. We sat on bar stools as Tom set out bowls and spoons and dished out the ice cream.

  As far as end-of-our-family-as-we-know-it talks it went smoothly until Bethany asked why.

  Tom had a spoonful of ice cream halfway to his mouth. He stuffed it in and looked at me, which meant so did Bethany.

  Thanks Tom. Appreciate you sending that ball to my court. I paused a moment, thinking. Finally, I said, "Your father and I have our reasons. The specifics are between him and me. In general, I feel that the trust our marriage is based on has been betrayed. Your father feels that we have grown apart." It was very generous of me and Tom had better appreciate my discretion. Of course, that might be one thing he couldn't appreciate since he didn't have any.

  Liam put his bowl in the sink and said, "Can I go now?"

  "You don't want to watch the rest of the movie?" This from Tom.

  Liam pushed away from the counter. "No. Got homework."

  I nodded to him and he vanished with a grateful sigh. Bethany had been letting her ice cream melt and now stirred it up. She'd been making ice cream soup since she was little, her favorite way of eating it. She slurped up some, and then wiped off her chin. "I don't think I want to watch the rest of the movie either. And you know what? I hate this. I hate it. It sucks big time and you guys suck for not trying harder."

  Tom flinched. I did too. For a moment, we shared a little of what had made us such a good pair, then Tom left the room and that moment vanished.

  "Is Dad mad at me?" Her voice was small, hurt.

  "No. He's sad. So am I. This is pretty awful honey, and we're hurting."

  "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," she wailed and threw herself in my arms. I held her tight for a long while before Tom came back in and took over, picked her up even though he had a bad back and carried her into the living room, murmuring quietly to her.

  I looked at the clock and then checked on Liam. He was fine, he said, though his red-rimmed eyes said something different. We talked for a bit and then my phone rang—I had programmed it earlier to call me. I pretended to talk to a client, my voice too high and tense. "Gotta go, sweetheart," I said, feeling rotten that I was lying to my kid. He didn't answer but submitted to my hug. I left him alone to his music and book and thoughts before going back downstairs, my work phone in hand.