T*Witches 3: Seeing Is Deceiving

by H. B. Gilmour

  Astoundingly, Ileana burst into tears. But only for a second. Wiping her gold-flecked eyes with the back of her hand, she admitted, sniffing, “They’ve got him, and I don’t know where he is.”

  Cam felt her throat constrict. “Who … who’s got him?”

  Ileana’s words pierced her heart. “Who do you think?”

  Tremulously, Alex said, “Thantos? He’s got the power to kidnap Karsh?”

  “Fredo, the idiot uncle, is there, too,” Ileana spat bitterly.

  Cam was confused. “Uncle? Thantos is our father’s brother, right? Where does —”

  “Who said Aron had only one brother?”

  Alex felt her stomach turn to jelly. Cam trembled.

  Ileana had forgotten how much the twins didn’t know. She felt exhausted suddenly and was grateful the statue had a base. She sank down onto it, and told the twins some — but hardly all — of their family history. How the brothers had grown up on Coventry Island. How Karsh, who’d mentored Aron, had grown closest to the brilliant and kind warlock.

  Cam found the words they both wanted to ask. “And our mother. You knew —”

  Ileana took a deep breath. How much would Lord Karsh want her to say? At the thought of him, tears welled up again. Pressing her lips together, she said, “Miranda is gone. Vanished soon after you were born.”

  Alex whispered, “Is she dead?”

  “No one has seen her in fifteen years, so it’s assumed,” Ileana said. “Only —”

  “Only what?” Cam jumped in anxiously.

  “Nothing.”

  “Not nothing!” Alex gripped her arm.

  “They never found” — a body, Ileana wanted to say, but instead said — “proof of her death.”

  A soft breeze could have knocked Alex and Cam over. Instead, a furious biting wind rose up from the east — from the water. Alex’s head was spinning. She couldn’t think of any way to stop it, except this: “Karsh! We’ll find him,” she blurted. “We’ll help you find him.”

  “There’s nothing more important than that!” Cam knew she sounded over-the-top. She felt like her blood was boiling, veins and arteries pulsing hard against her skin.

  “We can help, let us,” Cam pleaded, then described the room she’d seen, yelling over Alex’s shouts of the sounds she’d just heard when thinking of Karsh.

  Ileana thought, So earnest! And fierce! She’d just divulged a family secret that shook them to the core. And yet, finding Karsh was uppermost in their minds. When it came to helping someone else, Apolla and Artemis had no fear and knew no bounds.

  Ileana could not accept their help. The girls were Thantos’s quarry. He’d do anything to get them.

  Not on her watch.

  So she dismissed their anxious pleas to help. “Here’s the equation,” she told them. “You help me, they win. They want both Karsh and me out of the way, so you are left unprotected.”

  “If that’s true,” Cam reminded Ileana, “they’re already winning.”

  “Give me a break, I’m working on it!” Exasperated, Ileana sprang up and began to pace, circling the statue. “I’ll figure it out on my own!”

  Alex recognized the look on Ileana’s face. The brave and beautiful witch was fighting not to let her terror show. Alex’s heart went out to her. There must be something she could do.

  As if wishing could make it so, a bolt of inspiration charged through her like electricity racing through a circuit. There was a way to help. She asked her distraught witch-guardian, “Do you have any herbs on you?”

  Startled, Ileana blurted, “Of course! I always carry monkshood, parsley, and sage. He needs these to make the potions!”

  Cam realized Ileana was talking about Karsh. And she locked into her twin’s vibe instantly. Holding her palm out, she stepped toward Ileana. “Can I look at them?”

  Ileana impatiently peeled off the pouch slung over her shoulder. She tossed it at Cam with a look that said, As if you would know what to do with these!

  Alex quickly unclasped her necklace while communicating to Cam, Give me your sun necklace now! A second later, the gold amulets lay on Alex’s open, outstretched palm, intertwined.

  Meanwhile, Cam had opened the pouch and sprinkled the herbs, which Ileana had already ground into a fine powder, on her own open palm.

  They needed an incantation, now! But which one?

  Of course, Cam thought — a healing one. Alex began, and she chimed in.

  Universe of love and health,

  Use these gifts of nature’s wealth

  To free Ileana from the doubt that renders her undone, grant her power to win this bout

  With moon magick and curing sun.

  Alex felt the tingling first, then the necklaces heating up, accompanied by a faint buzzing sound. The magick was working; the sun and the moon charms were fusing together!

  Although Ileana had witnessed this before, the sheer power of Aron’s twin daughters acting as one left her awestruck.

  Alex hadn’t planned what she was going to do next. She felt Cam’s hand squeeze her shoulder and closed her eyes and forced herself to envision the necklaces — the amulets meant to protect her and Cam. Ileana needed the gold sun-moon charms, but would never take them. Could Alex give them to her guardian some other way?

  A sudden anger overtook her, a rage against the monsters who’d taken Karsh captive. Fueled by her venom, Alex saw them floating up from her palm, into the air, and settling in the deep velvety pocket of Ileana’s cape.

  When she opened her eyes, her palm was empty.

  Ileana shivered. Now the twins were completely unprotected.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SEEING IS DECEIVING

  “Are you sure you did the right thing?” Cam asked anxiously as the twins trekked back to Marble Bay.

  “I’m not sure of anything,” Alex answered, trying not to sound defensive. “Except this: Ileana needs help. What else do I need to be sure of?”

  Cam frowned. “Our parents made them for us….”

  Alex closed her mind. Mention of their parents would lead to Miranda. If she was alive, she’d abandoned them. If she wasn’t… Alex pushed down hard on the black rubber pedals of the mountain bike and pulled ahead of her twin.

  Cam quickly caught up. “I want to help Ileana, too. But she’s not the only one in trouble. So are we — that’s why we tricked her into meeting us. You just gave her the only defense we have. The necklaces might not even work for her.”

  The late autumn day, bright with biting sunshine that morning, had turned overcast. Alex slowed down. “She could be related to us.”

  “Her eyes are the same as ours,” Cam admitted, adding, “and the branches of this family tree are one tangled mess….”

  “Whoever she is,” Alex concluded, “she can’t help us now. We have to deal on our own.”

  And they did.

  To keep their mind off Karsh and Ileana, Cam and Alex spent every spare minute of the next two days plotting how to smash the web of deceit that had caught Beth — and could trap them.

  They started early Monday morning before school, digging into the organization called Helping Hands. Was it legit? Cam went on-line, but the website was identical to the pamphlets at the mall. They were full of hype, cleverly appealing to people with a soft spot for the helpless, and who were willing to work on their behalf. It didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know.

  Cam was about to hit EXIT when Alex stopped her. “Hang on. Forget about what’s there. Think about what’s missing.”

  “Huh?” Cam scrunched her forehead.

  “There’s a ton of info about why they’re raising money, the services they provide to children, but no specific mention of where the money’s going.”

  Cam shrugged. “We know where it’s going — Sunshine House.”

  “And that piece of crucial info would be missing from the website … why?”

  “Because … there’s no such place?” Cam guessed.

  She was wrong.
Sunshine House was real, all right. The info on its website confirmed what Helping Hands had described, a professionally staffed shelter for abused and abandoned children. A safe place for kids to be until they could either go home or into foster care, it was located in California, just south of Los Angeles.

  “How convenient,” snorted Alex. “Beth Fish, of Marble Bay, Massachusetts, can’t exactly drop by and see her hard-raised funds at work.”

  Cam considered. “Ms. Webb told Beth that Helping Hands actually runs the shelter. Even if that’s an exaggeration, they’ve got to be a major benefactor.”

  If they’re on the level.

  “So how do we find out?” Alex said.

  “I’m sure there’s some kind of law that says a not-for-profit place has to divulge where the Benji’s are coming from. My dad would know.”

  “But we’re not involving him, remember? Besides, why would they divulge anything to a pair of nosy fifteen-year-olds?” Alex noted.

  “Who said anything about two teenagers asking?” Cam’s eyes twinkled. She expertly set up a new screen name on her e-mail account.

  A slow grin spread across Alex’s face. She edged Cam out of the way to begin the letter.

  Dear Sunshine House,

  I’ve heard about the excellent work you do on behalf of unfortunate children. I’d like to help out. But my advisors — you know how they are! — insist I find out more about the funding you already receive before I make my donation. Could you send me a complete list of your benefactors? I’m sure you understand the need for complete secrecy. Please respond to this e-mail address, which in no way identifies me, but which I’ve set up specifically for this fact-finding purpose.

  Cam elbowed Alex out of the way and finished it, Respectfully yours, Brice Stanley.

  Alex hit SEND MAIL.

  * * *

  At Marble Bay High, the debacle at the dance was topic A. Miraculously, and thanks to the quick action of the chaperones and local police, no one had been seriously hurt.

  What had gone wrong in the gym? How could the wiring and the plumbing have gone kerbloohey at the same moment? It had to be sabotage, went the prevailing opinion. All students who’d eyewitnessed the disaster were required to talk with the authorities. But the perpetrator and the motive remained elusive. Was it a kid with a grudge? A rival school’s sports team? A random psycho?

  Only three beings knew. And they would never tell.

  Meanwhile, the gymnasium would be in rehab for several weeks, so all PE classes were either held outdoors or canceled outright. The school had also set up special guidance sessions for anyone who felt traumatized by Saturday night’s disaster.

  Of the Six Pack, Brianna seemed most affected by the experience. Beth had saved her from getting trampled. Because she simply couldn’t say “thank you” in her Bree-way, she was making an effort to become closer to Beth. Cam squashed the pang of jealousy she felt seeing them walk down the hall together giggling, passing notes in class, and sharing the sushi Bree had delivered to the cafeteria. Beth is my best friend — Bree barely used to tolerate her….

  Eyes on the prize, was the telepathic message from Alex. What we’re doing for Beth is what’s important.

  Their investigation took a giant leap forward when Cam and Alex got home from school. Logging on, the happy sound of “you’ve got mail” greeted them.

  Dear Mr. Stanley,

  Thank you for your recent inquiry. We would be honored to count you among our supporters. In the enclosed attachment, you will find information about our facility and the children we serve. Included is the list you requested.

  It was signed Oliver O’Day, director, Sunshine House.

  Cam held her breath as Alex clicked on the attachment. The shelter received funding from no less than 150 divergent sources, organizations, and individuals. All were listed alphabetically.

  Helping Hands, which should have been between Have-A-Heart and Just For Kids, was not there.

  “So it’s official,” Cam declared. “Our hunch was right; Helping Hands is a huge scam-o-rama.” She picked up the phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Alex demanded.

  “Beth! And then Mrs. Hammond — and hello, my dad!”

  “Down, girl. Jumping to conclusions is not one of the events in this competition,” Alex advised. “There still could be some logical reason why it’s not listed among the donors. All we know for sure is: Helping Hands doesn’t ‘run’ or probably even support Sunshine House, and neither Ms. Webb nor Shane is what they pretend to be. But,” Alex cautioned, “twin lies don’t build a truth. We need to build our case.”

  Cam was impressed with Alex’s careful logic. It was a side of her sis rarely on display. She had to laugh. “You sound like a lawyer’s daughter. I thought that was my position in this household.”

  “In case you didn’t notice” — Alex’s lip curled mischievously — “there’s been a little shifting of positions in the home game of Barnes Family Dysfunction since I got there.”

  Impulsively, Cam hugged her. “Lucky for all of us.”

  “Yo, we’re gonna need more than luck to unravel this mystery,” Alex reminded her, squiggling out of Cam’s embrace. “On to stage two, sista.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BREAKING THROUGH

  The law firm of Crunkle, Wong, Barnes, and DiBenedico was located in the business section of Marble Bay. The offices were in a three-story Revolutionary-war-era townhouse that the partners had bought a decade ago. Cam had always loved going there. The dark wood-paneled walls lined with bookshelves, the winding stairway, the rich aroma of coffee brewing, had seemed inviting and cozy to her. Everyone was friendly to her — she was the boss’s daughter. Of course, she’d never been there when it was dark and deserted.

  Until now.

  She and Alex, using the excuse of an emergency library excursion, had jumped on their bikes after dinner and pedaled the two and a half miles to the office. Cam was nervous, but she didn’t feel guilty about breaking into Dave’s office. How weird was that?

  Reading her mind, Alex responded, “Because you’re doing something righteous. And besides, you’re not technically breaking in. You have the keys.”

  “Correction: I stole the —”

  “Override: borrowed,” Alex reminded her as they parked their bikes and walked up the three steps to the front door. “You’re only borrowing them for an hour or so. As soon as we get home, if you can’t sneak them back into his desk drawer, I’ll use a little magic and replace them.”

  “Show-off,” Cam muttered. “Make yourself useful — use your hyperhearing for any random sounds while I open the locks.” After turning the several locks, Cam waited for the low buzz of the alarm. Expertly, she hit the right numbers to disengage it.

  Alex was impressed. It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be an alarm — or that Cam would know the code. “Dave must really trust you.”

  “Maybe he knew I’d need it someday. And trusted that if I used it without telling him, it would be for a good reason.”

  “It is, Cami. It is. Come on, let’s do this.”

  What Cam didn’t have was the slightest idea of where to find what they were looking for: the file for the Lizzie Andrews case. “Remember,” she cautioned Alex, “all we want is her address, so we can talk to her. No excess snooping.”

  “So if I happen to find something related to the Barnes vs. Fielding hearing — your family against icky Ike — I shouldn’t even look at it, right?”

  Cam heaved a sigh. There was no answer to that one.

  Or to the more immediate problem: The file cabinets in Dave’s third-floor office were locked. A situation Cam hadn’t counted on. Of course, she didn’t have the keys. What power could she use now? She couldn’t exactly melt the locks.

  Alex read her mind. How ’bout the power of common sense? Where does Dave —

  “Got it!” Cam understood. Her dad would likely keep the keys to the files in a place similar to where he kept the offi
ce keys in the house. She checked his desk drawer. Left side.

  Ignoring her own vow not to eyeball anything confidential, Cam read through the entire file. Lizzie Andrews, a fifteen-year-old foster child living in Waverly, Massachusetts, the next town over, had been caught stealing a pair of diamond earrings from a store in Boston by a security camera. She’d been working with an adult accomplice, who got away — and who she has refused to identify. The salesperson had given a description of the woman: tall, thin, blond hair, brown eyes. She could have been almost anyone.

  Cam jotted down Lizzie’s address, then carefully replaced the file, exactly where it had been.

  Alex, meanwhile, had her nose in a different file. Like Cam, she’d found what she was looking for.

  Cutting class was not something Cam ordinarily did, but she purposely chose the middle of the afternoon on the next day to pay Lizzie a visit. It was her best shot at finding the girl alone. From the file, she’d learned Lizzie’s foster parents worked, and until her trial date, she was being home-schooled by a tutor who might be gone by the time Cam got there.

  So just before her last class, Cam sneaked out of school and walked to the bus stop for the half-hour ride to Waverly. She went alone, because, following their plan, Alex had something of equal importance to do.

  The address Cam had copied down belonged to a small brick row house. Her stomach a tangle of knots, Cam walked up two steps to the front door and rang the bell.

  “If you’re selling something, we’re not buying.” The woman who answered the door was so large, she filled the frame.

  “D-does Lizzie Andrews live here?” Cam stammered.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “A … friend …?” Cam tried. “I mean, from school.” She smiled hopefully. “I have a book to give her.”

  The woman looked Cam up and down, then apparently decided she wasn’t a threat and summoned Lizzie to the door. “You’ve got five minutes,” she said, and walked away.

  If it was possible, the girl Cam remembered was even paler, more fidgety and beaten down than she had been that day at the mall. Dark purple circles ringed her eyes, evidence of wakeful nights.