The Untangled Cassie Black

by Tammie Painter

  Barely conscious I was doing so, my hand went to the spot under my shirt where the locket dangled.

  "He told me my mom gave him the locket."

  "She did, but he kept it. The locket itself has a protection charm on it, but the piece of baby hair inside is a trace. Trolls don’t really use them, but I guess the hair inside is linked to the hair on the baby’s head. It makes it so if a child gets lost, the kid can be located by using the hair as a sort of beacon."

  Morelli paused to drink the remainder of his beer. My head reeling with this new information, I guzzled mine as well. But Morelli wasn’t done overwhelming my poor brain.

  "Because Alastair was given the locket by your mom, it created a bond between you two. It was a symbol of her binding him to you, making him part of the people, part of the magic that protected you. He was a smart kid. He knew, because of the trace, that if he kept the locket with you, you would have been found within days of going missing. And because of the prophecy— You at least know about that, don’t you?" I nodded my head. "Well, because of that the Mauvais was hunting you down like a madman after what he did to your parents. You took a few beatings as a kid, but it could have been worse."

  "It was more than a few."

  "It was good for you, kept your magic from growing. If you’d done any spell as a kid, the Mauvais would have known. Don’t think he didn’t have spies out looking for you."

  I shuddered and stared at the lingering foam sliding down the inside edges of my glass. Magic took confidence, it took self-esteem. My foster parents, most of them anyway, had made sure to slap, scream, or starve any self-worth out of me. And as an adult, things didn’t improve much. Morelli grabbed the two empty glasses, went up to the bar, and soon returned with two more pints and a bowl of potato chips.

  "Wait," I said after eating a few of the salty treats, "so my moving into your place, was that part of the plan or just some weird happenstance?"

  "Kind of both. I hadn’t ever rented the place before because I didn’t think anyone would want to live there, but then I kept hearing all these things about the housing problem in Portland, so I threw one apartment up for cheap. Didn’t know what I’d attract with that, but I certainly didn’t expect you. And that’s not a compliment, by the way. But I’ve always kind of wondered if someone didn’t interfere. I mean, do you remember exactly how you found the ad?"

  "I never saw an ad. The Trimet bus I’d been on broke down one day. And there I was, being told by the driver to get off outside a sketchy quadplex with a garden gnome and a for-rent sign out front. I jotted down the number and called you while I was waiting for the replacement bus. Did you know who I was?"

  "Not a clue. I smelled the magic on you, but figured maybe you were some out-of-state Magic, or wanted your privacy, or maybe had been kicked out of a community — which after getting to know you, I figured was the most likely explanation. Then one day, I’m checking in with Fiona about her leg—"

  "Her leg?"

  "Yeah, I’m the one who set it. She got into a fight with one of the Mauvais’s people back when things were real bad. She won the fight, but the bastard shattered her leg before she got him. I set it, but it’s never been quite right. You’ve seen the limp. Anyway, I’m at her place, we get to chatting, and I tell her I got a tenant who reeks of magic. She asks for a description and just as I’m trying to figure out how to describe your lanky, goth girl look, I see those photos she’s got on her wall. The class photos, you know?" I nodded. "And there you were, sort of. Simon Starling in girl form. Although he didn’t look half-starved like you always did."

  "So Fiona knew I was living with you? What did she say? How come she didn’t tell you to bring me in?"

  "Because she didn’t really know what good it might do." With surprising prissy-ness, Morelli delicately ate three chips, then brushed the salt off his hands. "I don’t mean that as harsh as it sounds. I think she wanted to, but it was a risk to the community if they brought you to Rosaria. Fiona, while she sorted some things out, thought the best course of action would be to keep your magic down. So, I got to be mean to you. It was kind of fun, actually."

  "I’m so glad you enjoyed your Oscar-winning role."

  "I wasn’t that mean to you, just hounded you for rent. Plus, monitoring your coming and going meant I was keeping to my bargain."

  "What bargain would that be?" Huh, would you look at that? Half my beer had evaporated.

  "The bargain I made with Alastair when he took you. The bargain that said if I ever came across you again, I would guard you. That’s a troll’s speciality. Guarding. He cast a Connecting Charm over us that day before I took you to the foster center, so I guess, in a way, you couldn’t help but find me eventually."

  "We were bound together? That is a disturbing thought."

  "Suppose it is, but it’s a good thing I did keep your magic down because not long after I met with Fiona some strange characters began lingering around the apartment. Guildenstern alerted me to them."

  "Guildenstern?" I asked through a mouthful of chips.

  "The gnome out front. He and his twin brother Rosencrantz trade shifts. Anyway, it was maybe the day before or after you thought you were being clever with bringing Busby to stay with you that I got rid of them."

  I swallowed hard. "Got rid of?"

  "You really want to know the details?" Morelli asked over the rim of his glass.

  "No, not really. Maybe a bedtime story for later. And only Fiona knew I was living with you?"

  "Yeah, and she made sure I kept you around. That’s why your rent was kept so low."

  "And the day you threatened to raise it?"

  "I was scared," he said with a shrug. "When your apartment got broken into, when I was attacked—"

  "You were attacked?"

  "Yeah, you had to have smelled it." I thought back to when I’d been attacked at my apartment, the night Pablo died. There had been a stench near Morelli’s door and that smell had lingered at least through the next day. "I don’t know what genetic joke it is, but trolls let out a stink when we’ve been cursed. It’s embarrassing. Anyway, I thought you’d been found and I wanted you to hightail it. Fiona worried her mind might have been read. But turns out it was just Vivian being right there in our midst." Morelli carefully selected a few more chips from the bowl. "Stupid of us not to have realized something wasn’t right with her."

  "And Alastair, did he know I was there? If he doted on me so much, why didn’t he stop by to check in on me."

  "He didn’t know. Fiona and I thought it was for the best. I almost slipped up and told him a few times, but if he had come to my place and Kilbride followed him and saw him talking to some girl who looks like she’s got Starling blood, how long do you think you’d have survived? Alastair told me long ago never to tell him if I came across you again. Once Fiona was in on the secret, it made it easier to keep from him."

  "A secret shared and all that?"

  "Pretty much. It did feel like a big burden had been taken off my shoulders." Morelli fidgeted with his mug, then drained the rest of his beer. "So, anyhow, that’s why you should trust Alastair. He’s always done his best to protect you. He’s the only reason you’re alive today to annoy the bejesus out of me. He loves you. He always has. I will never fathom why, but there it is."

  20 - EAVESDROPPING AGAIN

  WITH A WHOLE new cluster of information to process, I headed back to the White Tower. Alastair’s words played again through my mind. When he had told me he’d only ever wanted to protect me, no matter how clumsily he’d gone about it, I didn’t have a clue what he meant.

  But now I did.

  Alastair wasn’t evil. He wasn’t a secret agent working against me. Alastair had cared for me. And the fact that that caring had never wavered hit me with full force, far more so than that first kiss had done. Maybe it wasn’t "in his kiss" as the "Shoop Shoop Song" insisted. Maybe it was in a story told to you in
a pub in the Tower of London by your half-troll landlord.

  But I suppose that’s not as catchy a lyric.

  Alastair had to be saved. That’s all there was to it. Did Mr. Tenpenny even know what Alastair had done? Was that what Fiona had been trying to tell him earlier? If all this was true — and I don’t know why Morelli would make up such an elaborate lie — it was more imperative than ever that we find Alastair as soon as possible. He saved me. He saved Tobey. And as Tobey had said, that sort of behavior should be rewarded by not giving up on the person, by seeing that person to safety no matter how challenging it might be.

  Trouble was, except for Morelli, Fiona, and perhaps Rafi, who’d also hinted he knew of Alastair’s relationship to me, the others seemed to have written him off. Well, I was going to be damn sure they wrote him back on. I don’t even know if that’s a saying, but regardless, it would be pretty rude to leave to die the person who had done his best to save your life. Even I knew that, and I’m not known for having a stellar social IQ.

  On the way to the stairwell, I passed by Olivia’s office. She was speaking to someone. I know these accounts would have you believe otherwise, but I’m not normally the type of person who lurks at doorways to eavesdrop. But this time I couldn’t help it. The tone of Olivia’s voice was like a Stunning Spell that halted me in my tracks.

  Olivia’s a confident woman, a natural-born leader, who from what I had seen, could maintain a serious amount of grace under pressure. She was the kind of person you’d expect to stay calm just to keep other people from panicking. She’d have made an excellent president. Or flight attendant.

  So, to hear her voice brimming high with anxiety and carrying a slight tremble, couldn’t help but catch my attention.

  "I think it’s the only way to stop him," she said. "These threats, he won’t stop until we do it."

  The door was open just a crack. The room was dark but for a glowing arctic-blue orb casting a limited amount of light. Still, I could see Olivia coming in and out of view as she strode back and forth, waving a piece of paper. I couldn’t see who she was talking to, but would have recognized Banna’s Solas orb anywhere.

  "He always issues threats. We can’t give in to them."

  "These are different." A smack echoed from the office as Olivia slapped the paper onto her desk, I assumed in front of Banna. "He is going to destroy everything if we don’t comply."

  "What do you mean by everything?" Banna asked calmly.

  "I don’t know," Olivia snapped. "Everything he plans to do if we give Cassie Black to him. With that much power he’ll easily gain the upper hand again."

  "We survived him once before," said Banna as if speaking of revisiting an old vacation spot.

  "But this time his goal isn’t just to have us under his control. Why do you think he’s been so casual about destroying these places? He’s getting a head start."

  "Head start on what?" Banna asked.

  "His same plans." Olivia’s voice pitched a few notes higher on these words and she took several deep breaths to steady herself. "His plans to rid the world of all non-magics."

  This finally grabbed the attention of a third person I hadn’t noticed. I shifted my position and finally caught a glimpse of him. From the set of his shoulders and his steel-grey hair, it could only be Busby. He leaned forward, putting himself more in the orb’s light, and looked at the paper. When he picked it up, the sheet shook.

  "He cannot," he said in a forlorn whisper.

  "He’s gaining power by the day," said Olivia. "Somehow he’s getting stronger. And even if we don’t know who’s passing it to him, we know which Magic he’s getting power from."

  "Cassie Black," said Mr. T, his voice cracking as if it hurt to say my name.

  "Maybe we’ve judged her wrong," Olivia said. As she continued speaking, my skin went cold. "Maybe she hadn’t planned to drain the watch that day at Vivian’s boutique. Maybe she planned to help the Mauvais, then got greedy. She claims she was only tricking him, but what if she did it because Alastair showed up and ruined her plans? And what about her actions since she’s been here? We’ve spent how long trying to find the Mauvais and she just happens to encounter him with hardly any effort? But once again, Alastair ruined her plans. What really happened in that building, in that boutique? We have only her account of those events."

  "And Tobey’s," said Mr. Tenpenny, his voice defensive. "He corroborates everything Cassie has told us about that night she found Simon and Chloe."

  "A BrainSweeping Charm would be no difficult matter for someone with her abilities. She could have been channeling power to the Mauvais ever since she arrived here. She may still be doing so. I’ve had my own worries about her. To lose Alastair like that. I can’t help but wonder: Did she lose him or did she give him up? Doesn’t it seem convenient to you that Alastair, who might be a threat to her plans, is still gone. But Tobey, who could have been charmed to back up her story, has returned? And then there’s her stubborn resistance to destroying the watch to factor in. Busby, I know you have your reasons for not wanting to, but I think we ought to extract her. It would solve so many of our troubles."

  How dare they accuse me of doing anything for the Mauvais? How many times had I told them I didn’t even want this stupid magic? My legs shook from the anger coursing through me, and my hands rattled like I’d just developed a case of sudden-onset Parkinson’s.

  It’s near impossible to hear yourself being insulted, accused, and practically convicted without barging in and defending yourself. Especially when one of the people talking wants to turn your brain into little more than a skull-bound cauliflower. I couldn’t just stand there. I reached up, touching my hand to the heavy wooden door to push it open.

  "But the tribunal," Banna reminded Olivia. "It’s really not your decision to make."

  I lowered my hand. A few ounces of the fifty-pound kettle ball that had been dumped into my gut lifted. The tribunal didn’t sound like they were leaning in my favor, but at least they weren’t unjustly accusing me of anything.

  "And there’s the prophecy," Busby said. "If we extract her we could be giving up our only chance at truly defeating him." Olivia said nothing in response. "You said the very same thing only a few days ago."

  "I suppose you’re right," Olivia said grudgingly.

  Blessed prophecy! Did I ever say that prophecy was a farce? No, the prophecy was a most wondrous bit of poetry that all students should be forced to memorize and revere.

  "But someone here is feeding him power," Olivia insisted. "I say if she doesn’t truly show herself to be on our side, we consider other actions."

  "She deserves some time," Mr. T said. "After all, she might lead us to Alastair and to the Mauvais."

  Wait a tick. I was back to being used for bait? My heart dropped, but sadly I’d reached the point that being dangled like a worm for the fishy Mauvais sounded better than being completely useless to HQ.

  "When will the tribunal make its decision?" Olivia asked.

  "I’ve argued for an extension," replied Banna, and I instantly took back all the wicked thoughts I’d had of her. "I think it only fair given the seriousness of the sentence. They’ve granted another few days. If they decide against her, then we will extract her and destroy the watch. But not before. Agreed?"

  "Agreed," Olivia said, although the reluctance in her voice did nothing to reassure me. And I can’t say it didn’t hurt to learn what she really thought of me. I hadn’t liked Olivia at first, but I’d grown to respect her, to think she was on my side. So much for that.

  But this knowledge ignited a certainty within me. Blazing with unflappable determination through my cells even more strongly than just a few moments previous, was the need to find Alastair. Because now, in addition to wanting to rescue him and apologize for all the suspicions and accusations, I needed him as a witness to what had happened that night the Mauvais took him through the portal. Tobey knew of course
, but if even one single person was convinced I had him under a BrainSweeping Charm, how was I supposed to prove otherwise?

  More than ever, I needed to find where that stupid portal had taken them.

  21 - BACK TO THE ARMORY

  WITH OLIVIA’S WORDS and my own worries about what to do repeating through my head all night, I slept fretfully and my fraught nerves blazed through all my energy stores. Despite an extraction and whatever havoc the Mauvais might wreak next, I was famished the next morning as the sun streamed into my room, brightening the space as if everything were perfect in the world.