Evie hadn’t felt like a child in a long, long time.
She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. She certainly didn’t look like someone who could coolly force herself into a hidden, supernatural world, full of powers she couldn’t equal and rules she didn’t understand. Evie looked back, over her shoulder.
The path was open behind her.
“We can still turn back,” Roman signed to her, seeming to read her mind.
Evie shook her head. She took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ears. She reached up and lifted the mallet from its hook. It was heavier than she expected. She wrapped her fingers around it, feeling its weight on her palms.
She stared back at the gong with narrowed eyes, as though daring her reflection to try to dissuade her from her chosen course. Her own eyes stared back at her, their deep brown color glinting with determination, and brimming with the kind of knowledge that only life’s harshest lessons can bestow.
Troy had wanted to break her. Evie stared at her reflection. She hadn’t let him break her then. And she wouldn’t let the memory of him stop her now.
Evie knew perfectly well that if she rang this gong, she could never go back; not to the world that she had known, or the life that had been hers. Everything would change. Roman seemed pretty sure they would die.
But life had already taught her that there are far worse things than dying.
She had been through some of them already. At a certain point, she thought, you get so used to fear that you stop letting it control you. You simply do what needs to be done.
Evie hefted the mallet high in the air and struck the gong, over and over again, with all her strength.
Molly
Molly smiled at the guys as they walked down the hall together but, inside, she felt like screaming.
The Homeland bar was just the way she remembered it: scratched-up tables, a rowdy, jostling crowd. The air filled with smoke, laughter, and the icy wind that streamed through the propped open door. She could feel the music thrumming inside her, like a caged animal pacing; desperate to get out.
How had she lost this?
This place had been better than a home—it had been where she belonged. She missed the warm press of the stage lights against her skin like a physical loss. She had found a kind of freedom and an expansive, wild peace, every time she stepped on to that stage.
Now she couldn’t imagine ever standing on that stage again.
Mike and Tim were arguing as they headed down the hallway to a shabby back room that all the band members shared.
“Tim, seriously man, you're delusional. That blonde was looking right at me. She couldn't look away. I'm sorry to crush your dreams, but . . .” Mike patted him on the back. “You've got to face reality, brother. I’m hotter than you. Deal with it.”
Janice looked over her shoulder just long enough to roll her eyes at both of them. Slender, and so short that the top of her head barely reached Tim’s shoulder, she still managed to make it clear that they were the childish ones.
“Bullshit.” Tim snorted dismissively. “Women always want the drummer. It's practically a scientific fact. It's the rhythm . . . it turns them on. They know that if we can make rhythm like that on stage . . .” Tim gyrated his substantial hips suggestively, and Mike roared with laughter.
“I'm not kidding you!” Tim insisted. “There's a reason my bed is so big. And it isn't just this.” He patted his prominent stomach contentedly.
“Could you guys, please, just shut up?” Janice hissed. Shoulders hunched forward, she kicked open the door of the dressing room and slumped down heavily into one of the chairs. “You're giving me a freaking headache.”
Molly glanced at her sharply. Janice usually got right into the middle of all the boys’ arguments. But Janice’s tightly curled black hair fell down around the edges of her face, hiding her eyes.
“So, where you been, Molly?” Tim asked, sitting down and propping his feet up on an empty chair. “You just ran off and left us! Janice said you had a cousin that died and had to go out of town all of a sudden?”
“Yeah, it was real sad,” Molly answered. “But you guys are doing fine without me! Janice was awesome tonight!”
She looked to Janice, expecting to see a sparkle in her eyes and one of her broad grins. Instead, Janice kept her eyes down, her arms crossed tightly over her stomach. Molly's smile faded. She looked at Janice more closely. She hadn't noticed before, but now . . .
“Guys!” Molly interrupted Mike and Tim's new argument. “You must be hungry, after the show. You should go get something to eat.”
“Damn, Molly!” Mike whined, sitting down and staring at her resentfully. “Why you got to mother-hen us all the time? I just want to sit down and chat with you . . . that's all.”
“I'll buy,” Molly offered bluntly, pulling a twenty from her pocket and holding it up in the air. Mike jumped right back out of the chair.
“But you’re a fucking awesome mother hen!” he exclaimed, snatching the bill from her fingers and throwing his arm around Tim's shoulders. “Come, my friend,” he said. “I feel a deep and primal need for chicken wings. Can we bring you ladies anything?” He was all chivalry, now that he wasn't paying.
“No,” Molly answered when Janice didn't so much as look up. “Just get out. Now.”
She followed behind them, practically shoving them out the door, and closed the door tightly behind them. She turned.
“Janice?”
Janice didn’t answer or look up. Dread built in Molly’s chest. She walked over and crouched down in front of Janice’s chair.
“It’s okay,” Molly said softly. “You know you can tell me.”
Janice looked up, and now Molly could see the faint purple of bruises just beneath the thick stage make-up that Janice didn’t usually wear.
“He came back,” Janice whispered hoarsely, tears gathering in her eyes. “I fucking hate myself. I’m such an idiot, Molly.”
“Kevin’s back?” Molly gasped, and Janice nodded. “Oh my God. How bad are you hurt?”
“Pretty bad!” Janice exclaimed and burst into tears. Molly wrapped her arms around her tentatively, afraid to hug her too tight.
“I swore to myself,” Janice moaned, her face pressed against Molly’s shoulder. “I absolutely swore to myself that I'd never let this be my life again. That I'd call 911 if I so much as saw his face. That I'd be smarter. But he knows all the right things to say. And I do blame myself for some of it, no matter what anybody says. And he seemed so sincere this time, so sweet. He promised it’d be different, that we could make it work.” For a minute Janice’s words were lost in deep, wrenching sobs. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m just so, so stupid.”
“You are not stupid,” Molly said fiercely. “You are smart, and talented and amazing in a hundred different ways. Janice, really.”
Janice peered out from behind her fingers.
Molly took a deep breath. No amount of time would ever make some things easy to remember or to say. “You know I've been there,” she said softly.
Janice bit her lip and nodded.
“It isn't about smart, or strong, or anything like that,” Molly continued. “You are all of those things.” Molly took a deep breath. “Did you kick him out?”
Janice hid her face in her hands. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking, “it’s even worse than it was before. I’ve never been this scared. He took my house keys. My credit cards. For the last two weeks, he’s been following me wherever I go. And . . . it isn't just that he gets mad. He's smart about it now. Look. He tries to hit me in places where no one will see.” She pulled up the corner of her shirt, and Molly bit back a gasp.
Janice’s side was a mass of black and purple bruises. Janice winced as she twisted to look down at her injuries, and pressed a tentative hand against her side. “I think he broke a rib,” she whispered. “Maybe two.”
Molly felt the room swim around her. She looked away quickly, clos
ing her eyes. Trying to breathe. She felt the blood rushing to her face, and her ears rung. Fury rose in her throat.
It burned.
She loved Janice. And suddenly she hated this man who had hurt her with an equal fierceness.
“You have to kick him out,” Molly said, fighting to keep her voice calm.
“I can't! I'm not kidding, Molly. He'll kill me.”
“You can. Mike and Tim and I will help,” Molly said, rubbing Janice's knee. “We’ll make sure you’re safe—we won't let him touch you. I'll give you the keys to my place. You can stay there as long as you want. We’ll make sure you have everything you need.” But Janice was shaking her head vehemently.
“I can't,” she whispered. “I'm afraid. Really, truly afraid, Molly.”
Molly didn't think about it as she put her hands on Janice's shoulders and clamped down. It happened, as naturally and simply as drawing breath.
“Don't be,” she said, her voice thick with layers of power. “You can do this. Don't be afraid.”
Janice stared at her. “But I am.”
Molly blinked. It should be working.
“Don't be,” she said again, her eyes pushing into Janice's, her voice rasping with the force of her effort.
Janice pulled back, looking at her strangely. “What's the matter with you, Molly?” she asked uncertainly. “Why is your voice all funny like that?”
Molly rocked back on her heels, shock and frustration flooding her. Her voice had failed her. What had she done wrong?
Mike and Tim were back. Their voices loud and boisterous in the hall, their footsteps close.
“Is Kevin here?” Molly asked quickly, in an undertone.
“Yes,” Janice answered automatically. “He didn’t want Mike or Tim to know he’s back in town, so he's waiting for me out back. But I don't . . .”
“We have returned!” Mike announced, setting several beers down on the table with a bang. “And we come bearing libations.”
Molly sprang to her feet, pushing past them and out the door. It slammed shut behind her. She heard them calling out to her, but didn’t turn back. She knew this bar well enough to weave her way to the back entrance with little trouble. She darted around the people, not really seeing anyone.
In her mind, she could only see her own demons.
She threw herself through the back door and stumbled out in the dirty back alley. The cold night air greeted her, and the full of the rich aromas of the overflowing trashcans that lined the dark back side of the street. The harvest moon hung pale yellow above her and seemed to stare down at Molly, following her every move.
Kevin stood in the shadows, his face lit with the red glow of the half-finished cigarette that dangled from his lips. It had been almost a year since Molly had last seen him, but she hadn’t forgotten the sharp lines of his face or the cool, calculating look of his eyes. He wore a gleaming leather jacket, that had to be brand new, over his broad shoulders and meaty arms. Molly wondered if he’d bought it with one of Janice’s credit cards. The dark eyes that had drawn Janice in, and managed to fool her for a while, snapped over to Molly’s face.
Taking in her expression, he sneered at her.
“What’s got your panties in a knot, bitch?” he asked. “Has Janice been blubbering to you?” He dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the heel of his shoe. Throwing his shoulders back, he stepped closer to her. Built like a football player, he towered over her, at least a hundred pounds heavier than her, most of it in muscle.
Molly took a deep, steadying breath of the frigid night air, and smiled.
Her fingers tightened on the handle of a nearby metal trashcan lid.
“What the fuck do you want?” Kevin demanded.
Molly stepped forward, bringing the lid up in a graceful arc, slamming it full force into his face.
“I want you to scream,” she said sweetly as he stumbled backward, blood streaming from his nose.
Molly
Kevin clutched at his bloody nose as he stumbled backward, yelling with surprise and fury.
He reached out and ripped the lid from her hands.
“You’re going to fucking regret that,” he said, spitting blood out onto the pavement. He moved toward her, pulling back his fist. Molly fell back a step. If her voice didn't work this time, he would probably kill her.
She held her hand out, palm first, in front of her, and reached deep inside, to the place where emotion and imagination lived.
She felt her power there. Waiting, like a gun ready to fire.
“Freeze!” she screamed at him.
Instantly, his joints froze. His limbs locked in place. He stood, statue-like, before her. She reached out and pulled the trashcan lid carefully from his fingers.
His eyes bulged. His breath came fast and hard. But he didn’t move.
Then Molly picked up right where she had left off.
She moved in a haze of pain and fury, striking again and again. Hating him. Hating everyone like him. The anger in the pit of her stomach was so hot that it scorched her insides, and made her arm move as though of its own accord. She didn’t stop until it occurred to her that she might easily kill him.
Her arm stilled. She stared at him.
He hadn't made much noise . . . his lips were still frozen. But his eyes had changed. There was no anger in them now, no threat. All she could see was absolute terror. Molly let the lid fall from numb fingers, clattering onto the pavement. It was hard for her to look at his face.
“Keys,” she said, holding out a hand, and letting the power of her voice flow through her. “Give me Janice's keys. And anything else you have that belongs to her.”
He moved stiffly, as though his joints were barely thawed. He pulled keys and credit cards from his pockets and dropped them into Molly's open palm.
“Good,” Molly said. She licked her lips, then hoped that he hadn’t noticed the nervous gesture. She had never tested her power in quite this way. It was mostly a bluff. But, she knew that, at his core, Kevin was a coward. And if she played this right, he would walk out of this alley fearing her the way the pious fear their God. “Now. Listen to me. You will stay away from Janice. Forever. You will never touch her, talk to her, or see her again. Ever. Do you understand?”
Kevin nodded frantically.
“Good. Remember what happened tonight. And if you ever hurt another woman again, I’ll know it. And I will find you.” It was a lie. And Molly was pretty sure that any control her voice might have over his actions would fade, given some time. But Kevin didn’t know that. He nodded again. “Remember, anytime I want, I can have you on your knees. And don’t fucking test me. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
Kevin whimpered, low in his throat.
“Now get the hell out of here.”
Kevin turned and, limping, scrambled down the street.
Molly watched him run. Then she turned and walked back into the bar.
She found Tim, his arm around a tipsy, overly affectionate woman with long blond hair.
“Come,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him away.
“Hey!” he protested. “We’re in the middle of a very important conversation here!”
“It’ll wait,” Molly growled and glanced at the woman. “Sorry,” she said, but the woman just gave a shrug and teetered away. “Listen,” Molly told Tim, who at least wasn’t drunk yet. “Kevin came back.”
“You’re kidding me.” In an instant, all the levity disappeared from Tim’s face.
“Yup. Two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks?” Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “Why didn’t she tell us?”
“Because he beat her so bad that she was afraid he’d kill her.”
“Shit.” Tim’s face flushed bright red.
“I scared him off,” Molly told him, ignoring his look of surprise. “But I still don’t think that Janice should be by herself. I’d stay if I could, but I’ve got a lot of other stuff going on right now.” Mentally, Molly patted herself on the
back for not adding, ‘and a bunch of people want to kill me right now, so it’s probably better for everyone if I keep my distance.’ Molly pulled Janice’s keys out of her pocket. “This is her stuff that Kevin had. Her keys and credit cards. And here’s the key to my apt.” Molly set everything down on the bar. “Why don’t you take her to my place and let her rest up for a bit. Kind of keep an eye on her.”
Tim picked up Janice’s stuff but handed Molly’s keys back to her.
“No offense Molly,” he said, “but your apartment is kind of a dump. She can crash at my place for as long as she needs.”
“You’re sure?” Molly asked. She knew that would be better for a bunch of reasons, but hadn’t wanted to ask too much of Tim.
“Course.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Obviously,” Tim agreed. He craned his head to the side, “I’m gonna go find her and get her out of here. The crowd tonight is pretty lame anyway.”
“Okay,” Molly said, then hesitated.“And, Tim. You won’t . . . hit on her, right? She’s been through a lot.”
Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course not!” he cried, indignantly. “Janice is like my kid sister. I hit on her friends, Molly. Not on her.”
He grinned at Molly’s slightly dumbfounded expression and, with a wink, turned and walked away.
With one worry at least momentarily taken care of, Molly began to search the crowd for Jake. She hadn’t meant to leave him alone for so long, and she couldn’t ignore the feeling of worry that kept flaring in her chest.
She couldn’t see him anywhere. But she knew he hadn’t left.
The third time her eyes raked the room, she saw the darkened hallway, marked only by a burned-out bulb, swaying in an invisible breeze.
Suddenly, she knew.
In an instant, she had crossed the crowded room and rushed down the dirty, black passageway.
There, slouched against locked doors, she found a small circle of haggard people with vacant eyes. Jake was with them. There was a needle in his hand.
Magic Cries Page 5
