Aimee couldn’t believe it. He’d been in the house for less than an hour, and he was already more a part of the family than she had ever been. How could her dad and Rick forget what Oberon had done to her?
“And now, Jack, if I may, I have something to say to Aimee.” Vaguely, she was aware of her dad nodding, as Orias looked at her, drawing her eyes toward his, it seemed, against her will. When at last he had captured her gaze in his own, he said, “What my father did to you was reprehensible, Aimee.” The regret and sympathy in his voice sounded genuine. “It was unforgivable, even though he was not well, obviously. But I hope you won’t hold me responsible for his actions.”
“I’m sure you know,” Jack put in quickly. “There’s been no love lost between me and your dad, even before that. But we Banfields are not the type to hold a grudge. Are we Aimee?”
Aimee wanted to scream at him and run away from the table, but she thought of Raphael. She knew the only way she’d get her father to relax his guard so she could continue to sneak out was to do as he said and cooperate. Still, she supposed it wasn’t fair to blame Orias for the things Oberon did. She wouldn’t like it if anyone blamed her for the things her father did.
“Of course not,” she said at last, her voice tight and thin.
Lily Rose came in then to clear away the appetizers. Aimee noticed that as she reached for Orias’s plate, he looked up at her and her hand stopped in midair as she studied him, her wrinkled brow more deeply furrowed as if she was trying to remember something. Jack cleared his throat.
“Lily Rose,” Aimee said. “Are you all right?” She also noticed neither the old woman nor Orias was willing to break their locked stare.
“Have you met Middleburg’s newest mogul?” Jack asked. “Orias, you must excuse Lily Rose. We don’t have guests often—”
Lily Rose stopped him. “Oh, that’s not it, Mr. Jack. I know how to serve a formal dinner. So,” she said to Orias. “You’re Oberon Morrow’s boy.”
“I am.”
“Then you do know him,” Jack said.
“Oh . . . I’ve seen him around,” Lily Rose replied slowly. “Long time ago—when he was just a little boy. Didn’t recognize him at first.”
“I’ve changed a good deal since I was a child,” Orias said pleasantly. “It’s refreshing to see, Lily Rose, that you have not.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then looked at Aimee. “You all right, honey bun?” she asked. “You need anything?”
“No, Lily Rose, thanks,” Aimee replied, touched by her concern. “I’m fine.” She glanced at her father and said, as elegantly as her mother would, “You may bring in the main course now, please.”
Lily Rose turned her attention back to Orias. “It’s notable how much you favor your father,” she told him, and with another look at Aimee, she took the tray full of dishes back to the kitchen.
Orias sighed deeply and turned to Jack. “When I was a child I tried to love my father, as all sons must love their fathers.” He glanced at Rick, who gave a small nod. “Unfortunately, I never got a chance to know him. But perhaps that was for the best.”
His words and the almost imperceptible break in his voice held so much sadness. Aimee had never heard such sadness—and she felt bad for him.
“Have they found his . . . ah, his remains?” her dad asked.
“Not yet. The final word from the DA’s office is that they probably never will. Perhaps that’s for the best as well.”
“What if he’s still alive?” Aimee asked. “What if he comes back?”
“Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you,” Orias told her. “And I’ll get him the help he needs.”
“The help he needs?” Aimee exclaimed, unbelieving. “He’s not a puppy with a broken leg. He’s a—a monster.”
“Aimee—” her dad warned.
Aimee regretted her words instantly. Rick and her dad were glaring at her. Orias was looking at her, too, and she was surprised by the pain she saw in his eyes.
“No, she’s right,” he said, and he gently put one of his large hands over her small one. His touch was soft but she could feel his tremendous strength—and although his hand was warm, when his flesh made contact with hers, it sent a chill through her whole body. “I owe you an apology,” he told her. “Coming here tonight with no warning—I should have known how that would upset you. It was very inconsiderate.” He took his napkin from his lap and put it beside his plate. “I should go.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Jack said. “Aimee is fine now, and she knows Oberon’s crimes have nothing to do with you. Right, Aimee?”
“Yes,” she answered tonelessly, becoming more aware of how difficult it was to breathe with Orias looking at her, appealing to her, drawing her inexorably into the infinite blue depths of his eyes. “Please . . . you don’t have to go.”
“Good—then that’s settled and we’ll talk no more about it,” Jack declared. “Cheung said you mentioned during your presentation, Orias, that you have some plans for new ventures here in Middleburg. I’d love to know what they are. Will you reopen Hot House?”
It was a moment before Orias replied. “I’m implementing some aggressive growth strategies for my father’s investments, which do not include Hot House. I’m not a fan of that particular type of entertainment. If I open it again, it will be something else.” A mischievous gleam shone in his eyes. “But I am interested in that real estate deal you’re pursuing in the Flats,” he said. Aimee glanced at her dad who suddenly looked a little pale. “Now, Jack—don’t think I haven’t heard about it. If we’re going to do business together, I think it’s only fair you give me a little taste.”
Jack laughed. “Sorry, kid. The Flats deal is strictly hush-hush.”
“Come on. You can tell me something,” Orias pressed with a charming smile. “Is it a development scheme? Mineral rights? What?”
Jack shook his head again. “I’m just handling the real estate end of it, buying and freeing up the properties. My partner is the man with the plan. Cheung Shao hasn’t even given me all the details.”
“Really? Do you normally enter into multimillion-dollar deals with no idea what’s going on?”
Jack grinned and took a sip of his wine. “I do when Cheung Shao is involved,” he said. “I’ve been in business with him for over ten years now. The guy is like King Midas. Everything he touches turns to gold.”
Lily Rose came in then with the main course. After she set a magnificent rack of braised lamb on the table, she looked around the room and her eyes came to rest on Maggie, who Aimee suddenly noticed, was staring at Orias, which was no surprise. But Aimee realized there was no fascination, no rapture in Maggie’s eyes as there was in the eyes of other girls who stared at him. There was fear.
“We’ll have plenty of time after dinner to talk business,” Jack said. “Until then, a toast. To new friends.” He raised his wine glass to Orias.
“To new friends,” Orias agreed, and he clinked glasses with her dad, then Rick, then Maggie, then finally Aimee. To her dismay, her glass crashed into his, sloshing his red wine on the white tablecloth.
“Oh—sorry,” Aimee said. “I didn’t get it on you, did I?”
“No,” Orias said, still smiling. “I’m fine.”
Aimee took a sip of her sparkling water, but her gaze kept drifting down to the stain on the tablecloth as it spread, wicking through the linen like spilled blood.
Maggie had not wanted to have dinner with the Banfields, and when Rick called and told her what time he would pick her up, she’d tried to get out of it. As his irritation with her grew, she noticed his voice changing. It got deeper, darker, more guttural with every word, until he sounded like the demon he truly was. Quickly, she told him it was only because she had to do something for her mother—and then she would drive herself over. It was a stalling tactic, an
d she’d hoped that something would actually transpire with her mom to prevent her going at all.
But Violet encouraged her to go, to have fun while she was young and still could. “Never miss an opportunity, Maggie,” she’d said. “The next couple of years at Middleburg High will be the most exciting time of your life. Grab every bit of it you can, store it up so you’ll have wonderful memories later . . .” and before Maggie could ask her what the heck she meant by that, Violet drifted back to her little studio and picked up her paintbrush. The design for her new tapestry was finished—she had taped up page after page from her sketchbook, chronologically as the story unfolded, on the walls of the breakfast room where she spent every day and almost every night. Now she was filling in the colors. She wouldn’t know whether Maggie was there or not so it was Maggie’s choice.
She could stay home and have a TV dinner with her mom or do as Rick said and go have one of Lily Rose’s delicious meals and hope that her boyfriend’s devil side would not make an appearance.
So far, it hadn’t. She’d arrived late, just as they were finishing cocktails, already bracing herself for Rick’s anger, but he was so intent on making a good impression on Orias Morrow that he quickly lost interest in her. Maggie was grateful that most of the attention was on Orias and she wasn’t expected to contribute much to the conversation. She wondered why Jack Banfield wanted her there at all. She had no interest in business ventures in Middleburg since she was planning to leave the minute she graduated and cashed in her college fund. The only thing that sparked Maggie’s interest was watching Aimee respond to Orias.
At first, Maggie had kept her eyes down, in her lap or on her plate, not wanting to see a demon’s face where Rick’s ought to be. But gradually she raised them and looked around the table. Tonight—so far—she was seeing only auras.
Jack’s was a bleak, iron gray surrounded by a burgundy the color of dried blood, and it was jagged, with little hook shapes on the outside of it. When she looked beneath his surface self, she saw him as old, weary and lonely—and she somehow understood: that’s where his ambition, greed and self-centered nature would take him. By comparison, his guest of honor had a brilliant, colorful aura. It contained all the shimmering colors of a peacock, and it was crowned with a spinning black star—and she understood that Orias knew his power and wouldn’t hesitate to use it to achieve his purpose.
Rick’s aura (when she finally had the courage to look) was just as she expected it to be—blood red with ugly streaks of brown and dark green that reminded her of the scum that formed on Macomb Lake after a heavy rain. But at least he still looked like Rick.
The most interesting aura at the table, Maggie thought, was Aimee’s. It was still bright and white, with swirls of pink and yellow and violet near her head, but the black shapes that had appeared around her the moment she shook hands with Orias on Career Day were still there. And, Maggie noticed, every time Orias looked at Aimee, those dark shadows grew larger and fluttered faster, causing the rest of her glow to dim and pulse with red. In spite of Aimee’s reticence, Maggie could see she was attracted to him—just like every other twit at Middleburg High.
And that, Maggie knew, was something she could use to her advantage. She wondered if Raphael knew just how interested his beloved was in the son of her abductor. Raphael deserved to know and Maggie would make sure he found out, as soon as she figured out a way to do it.
When she looked at Orias again, he was studying her. She quickly looked away, until she heard him call her out.
Maggie.
Her head whipped back around and she heard him again, even though his lips weren’t moving.
Oh, I know you can hear me.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and looked again.
Think you’re clever, don’t you? Just because you can see what lies beneath the fleshly disguises we all wear. Why don’t you go home and look in the mirror and see what’s under your own skin before you go around judging others? And if you look deeply enough, maybe you’ll even see your destiny.
Orias smiled at her and took a sip of his wine, but he continued to talk to her—inside her head.
I will warn you only once, Maggie. Stay out of my way.
Lily Rose came into the dining room again, and Maggie was grateful for the excuse to break away from Orias’s chilling gaze. The old black housekeeper’s aura was amazing—calm, peaceful, steadying. She had a halo of rich, golden light around her head, and extending from the light were layers of different colors, going from white, to beige, to pink, to lighter beige, wrapping in concentric circles all around her, encompassing her like a protective cocoon. As she refilled Maggie’s water glass and set it back in front of her, part of her aura enveloped Maggie for a moment, and Maggie could have sworn Lily Rose threw Orias a warning look before she headed back to the kitchen. Maggie lost track of the conversation until Jack suggested they go into the living room for coffee. She ventured one more glance at Orias and found him gazing at her, amusement twinkling in his icy blue eyes.
After dinner, everyone moved into the living room. Rick was outside, saying goodnight to Maggie, and Jack excused himself to take a phone call in his den. That left Aimee sitting with Orias in front of the blazing fire.
“And here we are,” he said softly. “Alone at last.”
Aimee blushed. “Ha, ha,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m serious, Aimee. The truth is, my main reason for coming tonight was to see you.”
A strange wave of panic surged through her. “Me? Why?”
“I saw you outside my office window the other day, looking in at me.”
“I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“It was intriguing,” he said. “I tried to catch you, but you got away. Then I saw you at the school. You shook my hand and ran away from me again.”
“Yeah,” Aimee said with a touch of contempt. “High school. I’m in high school, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Ah . . .” he said, his voice low, compelling. “Yes, I noticed.”
“Well, I’m too young for you. Not that—I didn’t mean—you know, not that you’re trying to ask me out or anything. I’m just . . . how old are you, anyway?”
“How old do you think?”
“Well, you graduated from Cornell, so you’ve got to be—I don’t know—maybe twenty-two or three.”
He flashed her his brilliant smile again, and again she felt that odd shortness of breath, like she always got when she caught Raphael looking at her—only more intense. She tried to force herself to keep thinking of Raphael, but then Orias leaned closer to her.
“I finished high school at fifteen, Aimee, and college at seventeen,” he said. “I was very quick—they called me a gifted child. I’m nineteen—not that much older than you.” He looked into her eyes, his lips curving into a smile.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re interested in me—you know, in that way.”
“What if I were?”
She forced herself to lean back in her chair, away from him. “Why would you be? I’m just an ordinary high-school girl and you’re some kind of genius corporate mogul—”
He put one long, slender finger gently to her lips to interrupt her. “You are anything but ordinary, Aimee.” It was soft, almost a whisper.
But she was (she knew it better than anyone) quite ordinary. She thought of Raphael with his kung fu and his Shen magic, blasting Oberon with his supernatural power. She thought of Dalton, who could sing like an angel and had a magnetic personality, Rick with his incredible athletic talent, Miss Pembrook with all her historical knowledge, her dad with his business sense, her mom with her faith in God. She even thought of her ex-best friend Maggie, beautiful cheerleader-turned-homecoming-queen. All of them had something special about them; Aimee had zilch. She wondered suddenly why Raphael even liked h
er.
“Well, you’re wrong,” she said. “The only thing I’m good at is getting in trouble.”
Orias’s laugh was quiet . . . intimate. “That’s a wonderful talent,” he teased. “If I’d spent more time getting in trouble and less time with books, I might not have become a boring—what did you call me—genius corporate mogul.”
“I didn’t call you boring,” she said. “I don’t think you’re boring.”
His smile widened and she felt weak. “You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit,” he told her. “There is something about you, Aimee. An energy that’s very special. We just have to unlock it.”
She ignored his reference to we. “And how exactly do I do that?” she asked, finally getting the courage to raise her eyes to his. It was a mistake.
“I could teach you,” he said.
They remained frozen like that for a moment, with Orias leaning close to her as the fire snapped and popped. Quick footsteps striding across the marble floor announced her father’s return.
“Anyone up for dessert?” he asked, as Aimee tried to steady her breathing.
“Well, I probably shouldn’t,” Orias said. “But what fun is life if you don’t get into trouble once in a while?”
“You were perfect tonight,” Rick said as he walked Maggie to her car. “Orias likes you.”
“What?” She hadn’t really been listening until she heard Rick say his name.
“Orias—he can see what good taste I have. He likes you. You made me proud tonight, Maggie my love.” He took her hand and drew it to his lips.
Dreading what she might see, she made herself look at him. He still looked like Rick.
“Oh,” she said. “Good.”
“So . . . maybe I’ll take you out to Macomb Lake,” he offered. They hadn’t been out there in a long time, and a couple of months ago, she would have been thrilled. “How ’bout it—I’ll follow you home to drop off your mom’s car. We’ll go up to our spot and take a blanket out of the trunk and—”
“No,” she interrupted, and she saw him frown. “I’m . . . I don’t feel so good. Something I ate, maybe. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The food was churning in her stomach and the ghost crown was throbbing against her brow—and then she felt it start to spin around her head, a tornado of energy ripping her thoughts to shreds even as she fought to put them together.
GHOST CROWN: THE TRACKS TRILOGY - Book Two Page 26
