As I carry my tray full of empty dishes into the kitchen, nerves drive a goofy grin onto my face, and ridiculous awkwardness out of my mouth. “Nice night, yeah, Nayeli?” I pause, even as my brain screams at me to shut up and keep moving. “It is Nayeli, right? I’ve only heard Kia talk about y’all, so we haven’t officially met. But you know that.”
Nayeli’s eyes narrow the slightest bit. Maybe. Or I could have imagined it.
I ramble on, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Case. But you probably know that too. Seen anything suspicious lurking around?”
“No.”
Digging my fingertips into the bottom of my tray, and trying to ignore the nervous sweat now collecting between my shoulders, I wipe my forehead with an arm. “Whew. That’s good to hear. It’s been a little insane the last few days. I don’t—”
“Was there something you needed?” Nayeli’s gaze definitely narrows now and the ground shakes faintly under me.
I clench a fist and pull the magic back under control. “Need? Where do I even start? Emotional needs? Existential ones?” A nonsensical, over-loud giggle rolls up from my throat.
Before I can say anything even more insane, Max appears at my side — that movie star grin softening even Nayeli’s tense expression — and takes my tray. “Nice evening for a chat. Mind if I steal Case for one? No? Obrigado.” With that he steers me away from the Amazon, chuckling as we go. “Were you trying to flirt, little mama? Because if so, we need to have a long conversation.”
I groan and knead the base of my skull with my fingertips. “I have no idea what I was trying to do. They make me nervous. Especially after that one Amazon talked about wanting to send me to the Tribunal and lock me away because I’m a highly dangerous individual.”
Laughing, Max slides my plates into the dishwashing area, sorting them with graceful precision. “So what was your plan? To ramble her into believing you’re harmless? Interesting tactic. Though I can’t knock it too hard. According to Ash, that’s how you tricked his dad when he showed up in Montrose.”
The nervous sweat calms some, and I massage my scalp. “I’m just glad it worked. Unfortunately, now he knows about my gift, which could one thousand percent backfire on me.” Sighing, I shake my head, and set about retying my apron that’s ridden up throughout my shift. “Maybe I should just turn myself into the Tribunal. That way y’all only have to worry about Jeremy.”
Max’s eyes darken and jabs a finger at me. “Non-option. You’re Mercury Room family now, little mama. Stuck with us.” With this pronouncement, he kisses me on the cheek, then sweeps out of the room.
In spite of my ever-growing fear, warmth rushes through me at this simple phrase. Family. One I’d had to scrape together with a little blood, a lot of sweat, and a touch of vampire drool. I’ll hold onto that like a shield when I go visit my mom. It might protect me from the inevitable disappointment. Checking the massive calendar on the wall, I force out a slow breath. Two days from now I have a morning off.
Chest aching with terror, I pull out my phone and slide into the breakroom to text Mom, nowhere near brave enough to call her.
Me: Mom, I’m ready to meet. Could you do Thursday? To be clear, I have some questions about dad.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard a moment before ending with,
Me: Hope you’re doing well. ~Case
Turning my cell off completely, I shove it into my jeans pocket and power walk back into the restaurant. Hopefully she’ll agree to meet and I won’t lose my nerve. Because I have to get answers if I want any chance at keeping my freedom and protecting my new family from Masera’s machinations.
19.
THAT NIGHT, AS WE ALL crowd into the upper room to eat dinner and decompress after the evening rush, Nayeli passes through on her way to the roof.
Kia lifts a hand. “Nayeli, would you have a moment to spare for us?”
The tawny eyed Amazon pauses at the edge of our table and turns to face us. “What can I do for you?” I nearly fall out of my seat when the corners of her mouth lift slightly.
Amazing what a smile can do to intimidation.
Kia’s gaze slides to Jeremy, then back to Nayeli. “Have you any updates on the undercover situation?”
My senses rage to full alert. I monitor Jeremy’s reactions as this conversation continues around him. He studies the noodles in his bowl, turning them over and twisting them around with his fork. His shoulders hunch toward his ears when Nayeli speaks.
“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to share any information about that mission,” she says. “Really, it’s for your safety more than anything.”
Ash scoffs quietly. “Typical.”
Kia kicks him under the table, a violent act I wouldn’t have expected of the mermaid. I cover a laugh with a hand. Nayeli’s eyes dart in his direction, but they don’t stay there, moving back to Kia as if fully dismissing the derisive sound.
“Is there a reason that information is limited?” Kia asks, frustration swelling under the steady calm of her words.
Nothing sucks more than waiting with no end in sight, no information. That Nayeli won’t even tell us anything only grates nerves that much more. There has to be a reason for this — the spy’s protection, our safety — but a holding pattern with zero updates doesn't make the best environment for patience.
“For the integrity of the mission, it’s better if you don’t know any details,” Nayeli says. “If one of you is taken, we run the risk of Masera discovering our spy. What I will tell you is that we’re close. Your ward shouldn’t have to stay locked up here for too much longer.”
Ash grips his butter knife in a fist, the tendons standing out along his neck and jaw, but he doesn’t say anything.
Tilting forward, I cross my arms on the table. They stick together a little from an unfortunate incident with the lemonade machine earlier in the evening. “Have any more creatures shown up that y’all have had to fight off?” With the others in the room, my nerves don’t make me ramble this time.
Nayeli looks over her shoulder at the door and keeps her volume low when she responds. “Sillia did encounter a water spirit bounty hunter, one we’ve had dealings with in the past.”
Max chokes on his rice and beans, coughing so hard that Jeremy pats him on the back until he’s got control again. “Yaritza?” he asks when his breath returns.
“Yes.” Nayeli nods. “She didn’t say anything, simply stood at the edge of the parking lot, watching the restaurant. Sillia told her to move on and she did.”
“She’ll be back,” Max says, mumbling something at the end of his sentence in Portuguese.
“We will be watching for her.” Nayeli pushes up her sleeves. “Neither of us will allow her, or any other creatures, to get inside. As long as all of you stay within the shield your witch put in place, particularly at night, you should be safe.”
Ash grumbles quietly and even Kia can’t keep a pleasant expression on her face. “With all due respect, that’s an unreasonable expectation, and very difficult to accomplish for any amount of time. My employees can’t live here indefinitely, and there are various reasons some of us who do call The Mercury Room home will need to leave.”
Nayeli’s nostrils flare. “You of all people should understand what we’re up against and why it is inadvisable for anyone to leave the building. My recommendation would be to put all non-residential staff on leave until this is taken care of.”
Kia stands. “Surely there are other options. I have the ability to guard my employee’s minds against Masera’s power, but I will not lay anyone off.”
“That is your prerogative, but my recommendation stands,” Nayeli says, gripping her staff so tightly the veins spring up along her arms. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She bobs her head in an awkward sort of bow, then turns back to the stairs.
Muttering, Ash stands from the table, tosses his trash, then pauses, fists pressed into the counter. Strands of his dark hair slide into his eyes. Kia and I both move at the same
time. She beats me to Ash and I sink back down into my chair, heat warming my cheeks.
It’s absurd for this to annoy me. Kia is a bit like Ash’s surrogate mother, a comforter and caregiver since he moved here from Louisiana, but my own stressed out, insecure feelings want me to be the one to help him now. Both the fact that she beat me to it, and my realization of just how dumb this is, boil up a healthy amount of irritation.
When Kia walks Ash to the corner, I bus my own plate and march my overdramatic self downstairs and out the front door. An evening walk might take my mind off of immature insecurities. With Sillia guarding the restaurant, the parking lot should be safe enough. There’s no way Nayeli’s recommendation means I can’t go out there, not with her partner watching for trouble.
The humidity adds a nice new layer of stick to my skin and my already sore feet throb. Heat beats up from the asphalt, clouds slide along the dark sky overhead like cigarette smoke, and sirens echo from somewhere close by.
I barely make it halfway across the parking lot when the stoic red-head, Sillia, steps into my path. About a head shorter than Nayeli, Sillia reminds me a bit of a gymnast, compact in her strength and almost uncomfortably graceful. Apart from a single mole on her cheek, her face is almost as flawless as Ash’s.
“Staff of The Mercury Room are under curfew,” she says, her register low and full.
Teeth clenched, magic shaking inside me, I battle to keep my calm. “Seriously? I can’t even pace in front of the building like an expectant father in the 1950s?”
No twitch. Not even a hint of a grin. “You would be more secure inside.” Her eyes flick back and forth. “But as the shields extend to the edge, that should be fine.”
“Well then I will go wear a hole in the porch then. You don’t have a cigar, do you? Corn cob pipe?”
Still no reaction. To be fair, it’s not a good joke, but would a polite huff through the nose have killed her? As I trudge back across the parking lot, a tremor of worry runs through me. Will they have a problem with Ash and me leaving to talk to my mom? Based on what Nayeli said, I have a feeling they will.
Rubbing my eyes, I pace the porch, hoping the conflict between Ash and our Amazon guards doesn’t escalate. We have enough problems to deal with as it is without him getting pummeled. Not that I can blame them. They clearly have good reason for their frustration with him, and their unwillingness to share information makes sense. It’s still freaking annoying.
At that moment, I remember my cell is off. Pulling it out of my pocket, I hit the power button, tapping my feet as the screen lights up. A message from Mom pops up almost immediately. My heart makes a break for my esophagus as I pull it up.
Caroline: Thursday works for me. I’ll be at The Coffee Mug on Mason at 9:30.
I stare at her response, heart thrumming so loud it drowns everything else out, fully torn between relief and dread. The mess I saw Mom in the last time we met haunts me, a painfully stark contrast to the woman I knew as a very small child. She’d never been especially happy, but years of stress induced by dealing with my strange power by herself took a heavy toll.
Which mom will I meet Thursday? The one who used to sing me to sleep on dark nights raging with storms? Or the one who slapped me into counters when stress drove her to the cliff-edge of her patience?
THURSDAY MORNING — after the worst night of not sleeping I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing — Ash and I leave out the back, opting for breakfast tacos and cafe con leche rather than our usual breakfast with the crew of The Mercury Room. I don’t mention my run in with Sillia, and neither of us talk about the possibility that leaving might get us in trouble. Better to ask forgiveness than permission sometimes.
Not to mention the fact Nayeli’s statement that not leaving was just a “recommendation” and not a direct order.
We drive toward Katy in silence, Ash munching his chorizo and eggs while I try to prolong my refried beans and cheese. Thick traffic crawls toward Houston on the other side of the road. Cars on the HOV lane move with a little more freedom, but not much, not at 9AM on a workday.
The closer we get to Mason Road, the more my insides twist and tangle. A large part of me wants to tell Ash to stay in the car. No matter which version of Mom I get today, shame will smother me. It will almost be worse if she’s not still an antagonistic, rude mess. Because that will confirm that getting space from me allowed her to get better, that I was absolutely the source of her downward spiral.
I stuff the remains of my taco into the white bag at my feet, willing it to survive in there until my innards decide to stop writhing and allow me to eat again. Slim chance of that. By the time that happens it’ll have hardened into an unsalvageable, gummy paste fit only to throw to the birds in the street.
“Next left,” I say as Ash turns onto Mason Road, barely able to speak above a mumble.
The Coffee Mug sits in between an Asian Market and a bike shop that used to be a gym. Cyclists — never call them bikers, you’ll get an earful about why that label is inaccurate according to my last foster father— hang out in the metal chairs in front of the wide windows munching on various forms of coffee cake and sipping from ceramic mugs.
When Ash parks, I don’t move, staring at the coffee cup shaped sign at the top of the building. The car trembles a little as my dread builds. I drop my gaze to a crew of the black birds — crows, maybe? — pecking at the asphalt, finding bits of microscopic food. Early morning sun spreads across their feathers so they shine with iridescent greens and blues. Funny how without the light they look somewhat dull, but at the right angle they’re vibrant, beautiful.
Ash brushes the backs of my knuckles with the tips of his fingers. When I turn my hand over, he slides his into mine. It cools my skin, so my palm stops sweating quiet so profusely. None of my dread leaves, but I do feel a little more stable. If anyone gets parental shame, it’s Ash.
“Want me to come in with you or wait in the car?” he asks.
I trace the scar at the edge of my mouth as the memory of how I got it plays through my head. “I’d say I need to do this alone, but I’m not sure my brain is functioning enough to absorb any information she might tell me. Not saying you should take dictation, though if the mood hits you...” A nervous laugh flutters past my lips.
Ash gives my hand a squeeze, then turns off the car. We both get out and walk toward the coffee shop. Those black birds hop out of our way as we pass. Just inside the door, surrounded by the scent of hazelnut and baking bread, I catch sight of Mom. She sits in the corner next to the coffee machine, blond hair combed back into a smooth bun, makeup perfect, button-up pressed, nails done.
My feet cement to the floor as I stare at the confirmation of my fears. Our eyes meet, her deep blue to my light brown, and I almost sprint straight back out of the shop. Then the barista asks for my order, half snapping me out of my daze.
Armed with more caffeine, Ash and I approach the table, my measured breaths barely keeping the tremors at bay.
“Casey,” Mom says, her expression smooth but stiff.
“Mom.” I ease slowly into the wooden chair across from her. “This is Ash. We work together at The Mercury Room.”
Ash lifts his drink. “Ms. Ryan.”
Mom hitches her chin a little, but her focus remains on me. It’s a studying kind of gaze she used to direct at me me as a kid. Before my magic jarred her into a muddled mess, Mom researched everything, all the time. A never-ending database of information, she used to kill it at trivia night with her friends.
Tracing the handle of my mug, I wiggle in my seat, then force myself to talk. “You look better.”
Mom brushes imaginary crumbs off her dark wash jeans. “I’ve been meaning to call, but...” She sips her tea, spanning the room before meeting my eyes again. “I wanted more answers first.”
Redoubling my grip on my coffee, I sit up a little. “Answers?”
She zeroes in on Ash.
“Whatever you’re going to tell me, you can say in fro
nt of him,” I say.
With an almost audible swallow, Mom, looks around again, then says in a whisper, “About your dad.”
All the moisture evaporates from my mouth. I almost drop my mug as I scoot my chair forward, cold with shock, shaking with anticipation. “What do you mean? I thought you told me he left us.”
Her face falls. “I couldn’t think of a better explanation, because what I saw didn’t make sense to me.” She presses her lips together, then looks up at me again, speaking even more softly. “He was taken. Right before you were born, we were attacked on our way home from the park in our neighborhood. I was pregnant with you at the time, but neither of us knew yet. One of them...” she falters, tears filling her eyes, then takes a breath, “one of them moved things with his mind, and a few had fangs. Your father fought back, told me to run. Before I could, something knocked me unconscious, and when I woke up, they were all gone.”
Hand pressed to my chest, I slump back in my seat. All other sound in the shop cuts out. “H-how, why didn’t you tell me?” Still thoroughly shocked by this bonker-balls revelation, I’m only half aware that I’ve even asked this question.
“Would you have believed me?”
“With my freakish ability to shake the ground?” I sweep a hand around myself. “Pretty sure I would have believed anything.”
Mom’s shoulders slump. “A good point. For years I believed I imagined it. The counselor I saw in the beginning convinced me I’d created that story to deal with your dad abandoning us. It was only a few years ago that I came to terms with the fact that I hadn’t dreamed it all up.” She presses a pointer finger to one of her temples.
Ash eases forward and rests his elbows on the table. “What did you find out? And how?”
Cursed: The Girl Who Shook the Earth Page 15
