by Allie Burton
Uncle Louie waddled to his office and I followed like an obedient slave. His slacks were hitched high with a black belt. His short-sleeved, white shirt sported pit stains. If he’d been nervous before, wait until he told Aaron what happened.
“I didn’t try to sell the instrument, is that clear?” He punched the top of his desk and glared. “I was robbed.”
My eyes popped at the lie.
He used his forearm to swipe the contents off the top of his desk. Papers and files and pens and pencils scattered to the floor.
“Yeah, that’s it. I was robbed.” He picked up the computer and smashed it to the ground. The screen cracked and the keyboard broke into two pieces.
I jumped back. Had he gone mad? He couldn’t expect me to repair that.
“I’ll call Aaron and tell him what happened.” Uncle Louie lumbered to a shelf holding a small antique clock and some first-edition books. “Those items the Order brings into the country are dangerous.”
My ears perked. Uncle Louie believed in that magic baloney? The images of him and his employees sleeping cut into my disbelief. But that couldn’t be. There must be another reason. “But—”
He grabbed me and put me in a headlock. My back was up against his large chest. My head came to his shoulder. My throat was blocked and it was difficult to breathe.
I cowered in his furious hug. Terror soaked my skin in a cold sweat.
“You listen, Piper.” His desperate voice made him sound even crueler. “I was robbed, yes.”
He faced me toward a full-length mirror not on display yet. The gold veins running the length of the glass distorted my image. I appeared small against Uncle Louie’s bigness. My shoulder-length, shorn, red-dyed hair contrasted with my uncle’s dark coloring. My muddy-brown eyes reflected fear. I flinched at my image.
He choked me harder. “I was robbed, right?”
The short-sleeved shirt I wore strained against my chest. “Y-y-yes.” Technically, that was true.
“You won’t say anything about the double dealing.” The malicious threat in his tone couldn’t be ignored.
“N-n-no.”
“Good.” He released me and I flung forward.
Flying toward the mirror, panic soared. My folded arms crashed into the glass. Sharp pieces sliced my bare arms and shattered toward my face and hair. “Ahh.”
Tiny pinpricks pricked my cheeks and chin. I picked at the glass slivers, relieved when only small splotches of blood smeared my fingers. Maybe becoming an errand person between him and the Order was a bad idea. Not that I’d had a choice.
Bitterness ate at my insides. Only a little bit longer, then I’d be gone.
“You’ll work in the shop to make up for breaking the mirror.” Uncle Louie’s demand infuriated me more than the blood flowing from my skin. “Stay here while I call Aaron.”
My life was that mirror. Shattered into fragments.
Doing the bidding of my uncle. Running interference between him and the Order. Pretending to believe the teachings of the Magical Order of Crucis. Pacifying Aaron.
Duties I’d taken on to protect dear-old-addicted Mom.
Wiping my bloody arms against my blue jeans, inside I boiled. Fury spewed with frustration, creating an explosive cocktail in me like an overheated car. I’m surprised steam didn’t pour from my ears. I didn’t understand how Mom could quit cocaine and heroin and then fall ill to some other disease decaying her body and her self-determination. Fear filtered into my bloodstream, cooling my anger. Mom was weak and tired and looking worse every day.
She wasn’t addicted to drugs or alcohol. Not anymore. That would be too normal. Mom was addicted to the Order and the prestige the organization granted her. How could her vessel position be prestigious when she wasted away?
I’d been quiet and obedient the last couple of years even while anger and loathing had simmered below the surface. I’d learned to repair cars and other machinery supposedly to help the Order with their chores. I planned to use the ability to steal a vehicle and escape. I’d been waiting until I turned sixteen and Aaron trusted me to complete errands on my own before running away. And I’d planned to sneak Mom out of the Order’s secret headquarters so we could leave together.
But how could I activate my plan with Mom so sick and my first errand to retrieve the trumpet a failure?
Chapter Two
Piper
I shifted my feet back and forth, standing outside of Uncle Louie’s office. My tummy revved, waiting for the crash. The small scratches and nicks on my arms and cheeks had stopped bleeding, but they were painful. I’d done my best to wipe them with tissue from the bathroom. Any antiseptic would need to wait until later.
Uncle Louie wanted me to stick around while he called Aaron, then closed the door so I couldn’t hear. Except Uncle Louie’s voice was loud and the door was thin. I heard every word.
Which was good because I’d know his lies.
“The trumpet was stolen.” He put enough quiver in his voice to sound afraid. “Of course I was careful. I only took the instrument out of the case when Piper arrived.”
Lie.
“She was in the office with me when this big guy burst into the room with a gun.” Uncle Louie must’ve been listening because I only heard silence. Then, he said, “Yes, only one guy.”
His lying didn’t surprise me. He lied all the time. You’d think he’d know it’s best to stick as close to the truth as possible. I was a terrible liar and had learned this lesson the hard way. One time, I’d snuck a book from Aaron’s private library and he’d used the heavy tome to smack me.
“The thief demanded the trumpet. Knew it was here.” Uncle Louie sped up his speech enjoying the tale he wove. “I refused to give it to him. Placed myself in between the trumpet and the gun.”
I blew out a disgusted snort. He’d sell his soul before doing anything dangerous or courageous. He wouldn’t risk his life for the instrument, or for Aaron and the Order.
Uncle Louie once whispered to me he believed they’d brainwashed his sister, my mom, when they’d helped her beat the drug addiction. He never would accuse Aaron to his face and only dealt with the Order because they made accepting illegal shipments profitable.
“The guy grabbed Piper and placed the gun to her head. The guy says, ‘the trumpet or this girl’s life.’ And well, she’s my favorite niece.” Uncle Louie added a tremble to his tone like he cared.
I was his only niece.
A yellow, blinking light of pain flashed. He didn’t care. I knew that, understood it, and yet still it hurt. He was the only other relative I had besides Mom. And while Mom loved me, she didn’t seem to know how to express that love. When I was younger, the drugs had controlled her, causing her not to take care of me, or hug me, and to lash out. Later, she seemed more devoted to the Order than her flesh and blood. And now, now, this awful, unknown illness ravaged her. If she was in her right mind, she’d love me and care for me. I had to believe that.
“What else could I do?” Uncle Louie’s voice cracked.
Dead silence came from the other side of the closed door. Aaron must be chewing Uncle Louie up and spitting him into pieces. What would his punishment be for losing the precious instrument?
I swallowed a trumpet-sized lump in my throat. Since Uncle Louie involved me, what would my punishment be?
“Well, if Piper would’ve moved faster…” Uncle Louie threw me under the speeding chariot.
The squashed feeling pressed into my lungs and I scraped in short puffs of air. Why had I expected otherwise? Uncle Louie didn’t care about me. He tolerated me because of his business relationship with the Order, believing I was loyal to Aaron and his followers.
My phone buzzed with a text message from Mom, reminding me I had a recording of the real episode. I could use the video to prove my innocence and save my reputation with Aaron. I could use the evidence to protect Mom. The insurance soothed my raging nerves and I breathed normally.
“Piper!” Bob yelled from the
front of the shop. “There are two guys here who want to see your uncle. Is he available?”
“He’s on the phone.” If he was being yelled at he’d probably welcome the intrusion. “I’ll let him know.”
I knocked on the door and let myself in.
Uncle Louie sat behind his desk, his white knuckles gripping the phone. Red-faced, he nodded up and down. He opened his mouth to speak. Aaron must’ve cut him off because he stayed silent. Finally, Uncle Louie said, “Got it.” Glaring at me as if it was my fault, he hung up.
“Bob says there’s two guys who want to talk to you.” I couldn’t keep my curiosity down. “What did Aaron say?”
“What do the customers want?” Uncle Louie’s surliness stopped further questions.
He involved me, yet wouldn’t tell me the outcome. Anger fired inside heating my veins. I wanted to stomp my foot on the ground or punch my fist in his face. I’d learned it’s better to keep my temper calm and my mouth shut. “Probably buying or selling something. It’s what you do.”
“Bring them back here.” He used his cell phone to take photos of the Louie-made mess in his office, probably sending the pictures as proof he’d been robbed. “Maybe they’ve got something good to sell or have lots of dough to spend. I’m going to need extra cash.”
I had to wonder if Uncle Louie losing the trumpet would ruin my escape plans. The junker car I’d salvaged was almost ready to go. I had a little bit of money saved for gas and food. All I needed was Mom’s health to improve and a few hours of freedom to at least get out of the state. I walked to the end of the hallway and signaled Bob to send the customers.
When they entered the dark hallway, the sun shone at their back silhouetting their forms. Tall, lean, strong. Side by side, they marched in as if entering a battle, not a shady back room. Then again, dealing with Uncle Louie was always a battle.
Tightening my abs, I stood straighter.
They moved forward in unison, side by side, and I could make out more detail. Both of the guys were young, probably around my age. They both had black hair. The one on the left had tufts sticking out on the top and sides, while the one on the right had his hair buzzed short in a military-style cut. Their green gazes ran over me, assessing whether I posed a threat.
Obviously not, because their glances moved past me and into my uncle’s office. I let my abs and shoulders sag.
The guy on the left wore a too-tight black T-shirt and jeans. While the guy on the right wore a loose, black T-shirt and khakis, not trying to show off the muscles rippling underneath. He was slimmer than the other guy, and behind his metal-rimmed glasses his eyes gleamed with intelligence when they strayed to me. His lips lifted in a slight, knowing, sexy smile.
My face flamed. Figures, a closeted, uneducated, introvert like myself would be attracted to the smart, nerdy guy.
“What can I help you boys with?” Her uncle plastered on his fake-confidant-pleasing expression. He liked teenagers because they usually wanted to sell valuable items of their parents for cash to buy party drugs.
Not that these guys were rich. Their clothes were average—nothing fancy or expensive. Their black-booted feet were similar to what many guys in the city wore. They appeared so normal it was as if they were trying to blend.
“We’re looking for an item.” The cute, nerdy guy un-crumpled a piece of paper. “Have you seen this?”
Uncle Louie squinted at the sheet the guy held. His face became as white as the paper. “No.”
“Take a closer look.” The guy who looked like he could break into a house and sweet-talk a girl out of her property pointed at the paper. “We heard it was in your possession.”
“You heard wrong.” Uncle Louie backed away from the two guys. His face went from pale to high flags of red on his cheeks. What other trouble was he involved in? He lifted his head and glowered at me. “I don’t have it.”
Something about his regard stirred the acid in my stomach.
The two guys reassessed me. The cute, nerdy guy’s eyebrows furrowed, reassessing me and coming to a different conclusion.
My stomach flipped and the acid rose up my throat with a new, indescribable fear.
“We know it was here.” The other guy demanded.
I heard those words through a fog because the cute, nerdy guy continued staring. Rubbing a dark patch on his neck, he seemed to be peering deep into my soul, discovering my darkest secrets. I wanted to let him in, which scared me more than Uncle Louie’s bellow.
“I don’t have the trumpet.” Uncle Louie’s voice punched my gut.
The acid stirring and flipping solidified into a solid chunk of anxiety. They were asking about Tut’s Trumpet. Not many people knew about the supposedly-magical relic.
I stumbled backward out of the doorway. Shock acting as an ignition switch.
Uncle Louie and the two guys stared as if I held the answer. The intensity of smart-guy’s gaze infiltrated deep. I couldn’t be questioned by these guys. If they knew about the trumpet, then they were dangerous.
My face was too expressive to be a good liar and Aaron would kill me if I talked about the trumpet. I backed away from the office, wheeled around and ran down the hallway, through the shop, and out the front door, not caring about Uncle Louie’s dilemma. I needed to get out.
The crosswalk light was red, but I kept running. I must have some kind of luck because the street lights always changed for me. Sure enough, the street light switched to green and my path was given the go ahead. I ran past a coffee shop and into the next alley.
Someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Shadows confronted me. My heart jolted and then rushed with fear. My body tensed.
“Are you okay?” The cute, nerdy guy’s soft tone filled with sympathy. His green eyes lit with caring and warmth.
I might not be good at lying, but I could tell a liar from a mile away. He seemed to genuinely care. Why? No one had ever asked me if I was okay before. Not Mom, or Uncle Louie, or Aaron. The thought depressed me. Surely, someone cared.
Glancing around at the dingy alley with the graffiti on the brick walls and the overflowing dumpster, I tried to center my thoughts. To think. The smell of oil and rotting garbage actually comforted.
I studied my short, dirty nails with grease underneath. “Yes. I am fine.” I enunciated each word, trying to sound intelligent. Snap judging him as a smart guy, he didn’t need to know most of my learning had been done on my own.
“You seemed scared.” He squeezed my shoulder.
The squeeze somehow reached my heart. I felt a tightness in my chest. Staring at his strong hand, I memorized the image. So this is how a simple gesture of comfort with no strings attached felt. I enjoyed the sensation, wanted more.
Trying to get a hold of myself, I shifted my shoulders and his hand dropped away. I stared at the end of the alley expecting Uncle Louie. The dim light of a foggy day and cars passing on the street was the only thing I saw. “You’d be scared too, if some strange guy chases you out of a store.”
Which wasn’t what happened. How had he caught me so fast?
“I didn’t chase you. You were upset and I followed.” He held out his hand. “I’m Math.”
I screwed up my face. “You’re what?”
“Math. It’s my name.”
“Short for Matthew?”
“Sure.” He dropped his gaze, avoiding my stare. “How did you get injured?”
“What?”
“You have small gashes.” He ran a finger down my cheek and my skin warmed and hummed. Then, he touched my arm and I felt the same sensations. Was this attraction or something sinister?
“I, um, broke a mirror. In the shop.”
Studying my arm, I swore the slices from the glass healed. My eyes bugged. I had to be imagining things. The cuts must not have been too deep.
“Do you work at the pawn shop?” He waved in the general direction of the street.
“No.” Although after this screw-up with the Order I might need to beg my uncle f
or a job. No, that would be too close to the Order. When Mom and I ran, we’d run far.
“You showed us in.”
I bristled, offended at his insulting tone. Uncle Louie’s employees were either druggies or criminals. “So you think I’m a criminal or a drug user?” I’d never touch any type of drug. Not after seeing Mom go through addiction, withdrawal, and a new form of illness.
“No.” Math’s cheeks flushed. “I think you’re…nice.”
Nice? The word had never been used to describe me before. Stupid had been tossed my way many times. And gear-head.
What was I doing talking to this guy? He knew about the trumpet. He must have some connection to the Order. Panic electrified my skin realizing this wasn’t a great place to hang alone. “Where’s your friend?”
“Falcon had to leave.” Math leaned against the brick wall in a relaxed pose, except for his stare of unnerving intensity. “I’m supposed to stay around and see if I can get more information.”
Gold flecks brightened his green eyes. The orbs drew me in like I was in a trance.
I wanted to confess everything to him. “About what?”
He took my hand and held it loosely. His thumb rubbed back and forth across my palm, sending shivers of heat over my skin, igniting internal sparks, combusting desire. “What do you know about Tut’s silver trumpet?”
Chapter Three
Piper
I’d almost fallen for it. For Math’s innocence and charm. For his geeky mystique. For his polite introduction and then the slide of the killer question.
What do you know about Tut’s silver trumpet?
The question extinguished my desire. Anger at myself flared to life. I was such an idiot. I thought I was good at reading people’s lies, unless the liar happened to be smexy.
What did I know about Tut’s silver trumpet? More than I should and less than I wanted. I knew the trumpet was crucial to the Order of Crucis. Knew they believed it held power. Knew it was supposedly the answer to Mom’s salvation.
