“Doing what?”
“We don’t all have the muscles to kill wild animals with our bare hands, but I’ve survived okay this far.”
A chill ran up his back as he remembered his own confinement. “I don’t call what you did surviving.”
She brandished a smile that looked more sad than anything else. “It’s what I do.”
He wanted to help Grace. Maybe because she was the only sane person he’d had to talk to in that cage. Maybe because part of him would rather die than go back, and he couldn’t resign anyone to that fate.
Whatever the reason, he cared for her, and she deserved more than being dropped off at a street corner.
“Rebecca will come around. She’s not that bad. We can drop you off somewhere safe when we get a chance. I’m not sure you’ll want to stay with us for long.”
Grace picked up a pine cone, turning it in her hands. “So what’s the deal with your girlie there?”
“I’ve know her since I can remember. We were pretty close for a while. I haven’t seen her for years, until our parents’ deaths. We’re just trying to find some answers.”
Grace leaned forward, too close, and gently traced a finger down his chest. “She’s right, you know? You don’t go picking up stray cats in the city, and most magicians don’t go risking what she did, even for a nice package of muscles.”
Grace loved to get to him, but he wasn’t going to blink first this time.
“She’s not a magician.”
“Your eyes must have been closed back there at the market. She’s a witch. And magicians don’t hang out with us normal folk. Not for free.”
Caleb wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He didn’t know what happened at the market, or how Rebecca was tied to this magic. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t change how he felt about her.
Grace stared back at the car for a moment. “You might be right. It might be too dangerous for me. But don’t worry, I know when to jump ship. Watch out, though, because you might want to jump too.”
CHAPTER 26
Becca leaned against the cool glass of the car window, watching the scattered stars overhead. Night draped a dark curtain over the dense trees while they drove. The serene did nothing to calm the tumultuous thoughts raging in her mind.
No one had spoken since they got gas and water at a station sixty miles back. With tempers simmering on low boil, they’d decided it would be best to stick together for a couple of days. Darion had told them about a cabin up north that should be vacant. Becca didn’t like to count on “should be,” but they didn’t have another option.
Grace and Caleb slept in the back. Still dressed only in the pants from the market, he reclined back, Grace leaning against his arm. Becca was a bit jealous. She wished she could sleep, but her thoughts continued to twirl around her. She picked at the hem of the silver dress she still had on from Nevada.
“Do you need me to drive?” she asked Darion, wanting something to distract her.
“No. Almost there.” He slowed the car and turned onto a dirt road.
A narrow path weaved through the big pines. The car traveled roughly, jerking along the path. Becca gripped the handle as the car bounced over potholes and rocks. Caleb and Grace stirred in the back seat.
“We there?” Caleb asked, rubbing his face.
“Just about,” Darion answered. After a couple more miles on the washboard road, they approached a tall iron gate.
“One minute.” He put the car in park and walked to the gate. He stood for a moment, hands moving, arching in the air.
“Magic can be handy,” Grace said.
“I suppose,” Becca replied dryly. She tried to look at magic as helpful, as something that didn’t turn her stomach. She needed magic to have a chance at saving her sister. But as she remembered the demon at Nevada’s house, the lines of right and wrong blurred.
Darion opened the gate and then returned to the car. “No one’s home. It’s all ours.”
The massive home rose up two stories and was dotted with shuttered windows. A large porch framed the house and a four car garage sat to the side.
Grace let out a long whistle. “This is a bit more than a cabin.”
He parked around back, and they climbed the steps to the back door. They didn’t have much luggage. They’d better find supplies inside. Becca didn’t want to stay in this silver dress longer than needed. Goose bumps covered her bare arm.
Darion grabbed a key under the mat to unlock the door.
“Great security,” Caleb muttered.
“Any Mundane touching that gate would have been killed on the spot. And any magician who got this far could use a spell on the door.” Darion opened the door and flipped on the lights. “I prefer the easy way, though.”
Grace waltzed inside. “Instant death. One hell of a welcome.”
Polished wood lined the floor covered by intricate rugs. Heavy leather furniture positioned throughout the great room. Off to her left, a great kitchen with shiny appliances, and large marble counters.
Definitely more than a cabin. Becca was impressed. The smell of dust and pine filled the air.
Grace brushed a leather sofa. “You have some nice friends.”
“Don’t we need to keep the lights off?” Becca worried about gangs or other wizards. She couldn’t shake the need to keep looking over her shoulder.
Darion locked the door behind them. “No. From the gates, everything looks dark and uninhabited. There are lots of rooms upstairs. We can grab a bite to eat and get some rest.”
“What about other magicians?” Becca asked. “Can’t they see past the illusions?”
“They can only tell there is an illusion. If they’re strong enough to break it, they will. We should be safe, no reason for anyone to look for us out here.”
Pictures filled an entry table with smiling, attractive people. One showed a pretty young woman, with vibrant red hair.
Grace picked up the picture. “So, Darion, is this pretty girl yours?”
Becca looked up at him, waiting uncomfortably for the answer. She reminded herself that she’d left him. Whoever he dated was his business.
“She’s a friend.” He turned a corner leading deeper into the cabin.
“What a friend. Breaking in, stealing food,” Caleb mumbled.
“He’s doing it for us,” Becca reminded him.
“You’re right,” Caleb agreed, though tightness remained in his shoulders. “I’m just not sure about him yet. The way he looks at you—”
“You’re starting to sound like you belong in the city already,” Grace interrupted.
Tired of the conversation, Becca left to check out the kitchen. Their fridge had wood paneling on the front, but— besides condiments—was relatively empty. Becca was happy to find running water, even hot water. She searched the walk-in pantry and came back with a couple cans of peaches, tomatoes, and chili.
“Can I interest you in a culinary masterpiece?” she asked Caleb.
He grinned. “Only if it doesn’t involve living insects.” It stole her back to the time she’d tricked him into eating a cricket sandwich. He was so pissed, until they decided to catch some more for her sister. His smile warmed her heart, but part of her ached at everything they had lost.
“I can’t promise anything,” Becca told him, handing him a fork.
“I’m hungry enough to crunch through a couple legs.” They sat at the bar together. He leaned back to holler in the other room, “Grace, we have some food, if you’re interested.”
Becca hadn’t gotten use to Caleb’s attachment to this ornery girl. He was more trusting that most and that worried Becca.
Grace sauntered in and grabbed a glass jar of peaches. She speared one on a fork and lifted it up. “Here’s to being alive and free for the moment.”
Caleb raised his jar. “Here, here.”
“What are we celebrating?” Darion appeared.
“Being alive,” Caleb said.
“And free,” Grace a
dded.
Becca couldn’t bring herself to celebrate anything. Her sister was still out there, and the clock was ticking. Becca looked at her cold can of peaches and couldn’t find the desire to eat anymore.
“As good as anything, I suppose.” Darion grabbed a can of chili and ate it cold out of the can.
“Isn’t that disgusting?” Becca asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes as he shoved another spoonful in his mouth.
“Rebecca, so how do you know Darion?” Grace asked as she leaned on the counter.
“It’s Becca.”
“Okay. Becca. How do you know Darion?”
Becca plopped a peach into her mouth, hoping to ignore the question. Everyone’s gaze felt heavy, waiting for an answer. “We dated for a while.”
“Really?” Grace’s surprised fell false. “Didn’t you date Caleb as well?”
Becca itched to slap Grace’s pretty smile right off her face. “Your point?”
Grace’s saucy eyebrows rose. “Nothing really. Just realizing how awkward this all must be for you.”
Becca smirked. She wasn’t sure if this girl was trying to be funny, or what. “Thanks for bringing it up.”
“Anytime,” Grace replied.
Caleb coughed and headed to the pantry. He returned, setting several more jars on the counter.
Grace grabbed an extra jar of peaches. “I’m going to head upstairs for a bath. Feel free to join me, if anyone wants.” She winked in Becca’s direction.
Becca kept her mouth shut tight. She might throw Grace into the property fence if she didn’t shut up.
“She’s a treat,” she told Caleb.
“I’m going to warm up some chili.” Caleb began searching the cabinets, his face slightly flushed.
The clanking of pans filled the awkward silence. Becca focused on the can in front of her.
Darion filled a glass in the sink, avoiding her gaze. “I’m heading up for the night.”
Caleb stood rigid. “Are you following Grace up? She’s been through enough, you know?”
“Really?” Darion’s jaw dropped. “After all we went through to save your sorry—”
“Just leave the girl alone, or—”
“Or what?” Darion snapped. “Go put a shirt on, buddy. I have no intention of touching that girl. Trust me. I’m not interested.”
He started upstairs, stopped, and turned back to Caleb, a darkness settling onto his face. “Let’s get some things straight. I’m here for Becca. And threats don’t go over well with wizards.” He headed up the stairs, mumbling something about ungrateful Mundanes.
Becca stood and placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Let him go. He’s tired.”
“He’s an ass.”
“I couldn’t have gotten you without him.” She owed Darion, more than she could repay.
Caleb turned around to face her, his green eyes striking, deep, and extremely close. “He cares for you.” It wasn’t a question.
“As a friend,” she said, not entirely believing it was purely platonic.
“Why did you break up with him?”
She froze for a moment, not expecting the question. She dropped her hand, and turned back to her seat. “He lied to me. Never told me he was a magician.”
“And you trust him now?” he asked, doubt obvious on his face.
She turned back to her seat at the kitchen island. “Yes. He wouldn’t hurt me.” Unless necesary. She pushed away the memory of Darion burning off the Hand of Mary tattoo.
“I get it, but people like him usually don’t risk their lives without something in it for them.”
She shrugged. Feelings aside, he’d helped save Caleb, and she needed Darion to save Elizabeth.
“Are we going to talk about what happened back at the market when you broke me out?” Caleb asked.
She picked at a tomato with her fork. She wasn’t ready for this conversation, but didn’t have the luxury of denial.
“Do you have magic?” His voice was soft and kind, with a slight tremble in it as if he was just as scared of the answer as she was.
“I don’t know.” Thoughts of that moment were clouded and confusing. “When Jeremiah burned off my tattoo, something happened. I thought he did it to control me. But the tattoo was some sort of barrier for magic.”
The fork trembled in her hand, and she set it down. She remembered the sensation at the market that had coursed through her body. When she’d actually silenced the demon, she didn’t realize what she had done.
The power, erupting out of her, felt strong as if maybe she was more. But what did that mean? Was she a witch? Did her parents know about it?
Her mother also had a Hand of Mary tattoo. Becca’s stomach felt heavy at the idea of the possible lies that had carried her through her childhood. Remembering the paddle her mother often used on her backside, it was hard to believe all those warning and teachings were false.
Magic could be bad in the wrong hands, some types even addicting. But it could do good, even if it was born of the devil. Right?
Caleb sat down and faced her, his eyes warm and comforting. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You can be better than the magicians in the city. Just don’t let him convince you otherwise.”
She ignored his reference to Darion. She didn’t want to talk about him. The idea of becoming a witch scared her to death. Could she trust herself once magic took hold?
Leaning forward, Caleb squeezed her hand.
How different would her life have been if she’d never left him? If she’d decided to settle down, make a homestead. Would she have been happy as a wife? After the last four years, she couldn’t even imagine it. But here he was.
After trying to run from the life she left years ago, it had followed her all the way here. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore. The farmer’s daughter was so far gone, but Caleb brought back those memories, good and bad, of family and expectations. But what did he expect? What would happen when all this was over?
Inches separated them, and the air charged with an electric silence. The familiar woodsy smell clung to his large frame. She loved that smell.
Caleb finally cleared his throat then sat on the edge of his seat, his breath soft. “I never had time to thank you.”
“For what?”
He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “For coming back to get me at the market.”
She itched to fall into his arms, to find comfort in being held. But as much as she wanted to, the safety was a facade. Starting anything romantic would only complicate their situation.
She stood and placed the fork and empty jars in the sink. “You would’ve done the same.”
He cleared his food off the counter. “Yes, but I wouldn’t have been able to.”
She didn’t want to think of that. “Go get some rest. I’m going to take the first watch.”
“I thought this place was safe?”
“Probably is. But I can’t sleep, and I just want to think for a bit.” She wanted to change, but didn’t feel like digging through strangers’ stuff. She’d find something in the morning.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Wake me if you need anything.”
“Will do.” She didn’t want to tell him of her fears: that Jeremiah was a lot stronger than a gang of Mundanes, that even though she probably had magic, she didn’t trust it. She couldn’t sleep, knowing what lay in wait for them and for her sister.
She grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and sat down on the sofa, staring out the window into the dark night. How could she get to Elizabeth? And kill Jeremiah? Her thoughts continued to spin faster and faster.
The dust would settle in the coming days, but who would remain standing and alive?
Becca didn’t remember falling asleep. But as she stood in front of her sister, a happy weightlessness radiated all over her body. “Elizabeth.”
“Becca?” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes, sitting up in bed. She was dressed in a white nightgown
, several blankets gathered around her.
Becca, in her usual jeans and leather jacket, settled down on a chair across from her. “Where are we?”
The room must have been haunted by the ghost of a gardener. Dried flowers and herbs were scattered all around. Roses plastered the walls.
Confusion creased Elizabeth’s brow, as if she was struggling to wake up. “My room.”
“Sorry to hear that. I miss your old room.” Becca brushed her hand along the desk. “I miss us.”
Becca wondered if her brain was giving her what she wanted: her sister, Elizabeth, tucked away safe somewhere. The bittersweet dream had a disturbing sense of reality, though.
“You left a long time ago.” Elizabeth pulled her covers up, as if cold, and pushed her hair out of her face. “It was never the same after you left.”
Becca lowered her gaze, knowing what that decision had cost her. “Sorry about that.”
“Why did you leave us? Leave me?” Elizabeth never beat around the bush with Becca.
Becca’s stomach knotted. She tried to put her regret over leaving Elizabeth into words. She used to think it was all her fault. Part of it might have been. Either way, it was time she voiced, at least subconsciously, what really happened. “The night I left, Caleb and I were making out in the barn—”
“You were kissing?” Elizabeth interrupted. She straightened up, mouth open in shock. “I asked you about him all the time.”
“I know. I lied.” Becca lifted a hand to quiet Elizabeth’s protests. “Sorry.”
Elizabeth always got caught up in romance novels and happy ever afters. Becca hated to crush that.
“Anyways, Uncle Jeremiah caught us one night in the barn…” Becca trailed off. Flashes of memories surfaced.
Rough hands. The odd burnt smell of Jeremiah. Wordless pleadings for him to stop. Silent tears. “Let’s just say, he’s not the man we thought he was. He’s much worse.”
“Jeremiah?” Elizabeth’s hands clenched her sheets. “What did he do?”
Becca’s mouth opened, but the words struggled to come out. She had never told anyone. Never planned to. She couldn’t face the shame and pain, even with her best of friends. But this was a dream. It shouldn’t be so difficult. “He touched me. Hurt me. I thought it was my fault for so many years.”
Demon Rising (Dark Rising Trilogy Book 1) Page 17
