Kelly McClymer-Must Love Black (18 page)

All I could feel was a skeptical sadness. And then the two butterflies from the garden and the pool fluttered in through an open window and settled on top of the frame in Mr. Pertweath’s hands.

We all stopped breathing for a long moment. And then the butterflies flew away, back to the garden. I wanted to follow.

The twins, however, hugged their father again. “Of course.

We’ll find her,” they said together. I don’t know if they believed what their father had said about their mother, but the looks on their faces as they had stared at the butterflies in silent wonder made me suspect they believed with all their hearts. I didn’t blame them. They needed to believe their mother was waiting, strong and fierce, watching over them with pride.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The lost lamb is never lost to those who know it well, heart and soul.

—Miss Adelaide Putnam to Lord Dashwood,
Manor of Dark Dreams
, p. 242

When we got back to our domain, the twins were already quietly plotting. I noticed they had printed out a topographical map of the area. I didn’t ask. I just folded laundry, defragged the computer they weren’t using, and quietly wondered if Geoff would always think of me as the worst nanny in the history of Chrysalis Cliff.

I guess they understood that I was unsure of their plan. Or maybe to them I was an outsider. I’d seen the three of them bond in a way I’d lost when my mom died. Or maybe when Dad married Krystal. It didn’t matter when I’d lost it, just that I definitely had lost it. I didn’t belong here; I didn’t belong at home anymore. I was the outsider. On sufferance. Which really hurt for some reason, and made my throat so lumpy I couldn’t swallow the excellent mac and cheese the cook had made.

I don’t know if it was because I missed my own mother so much, because we’d talked about mothers more than usual lately, or because I was feeling lonely, but I did notice that my wind chime was noisier than usual—despite the fact that there was no wind. “I hope that’s you, Mom.” I climbed into bed. “Because I sure need someone to care about me in this loony bin.”

My wind chime was noisy at the window. Usually that sound soothed me, made me think my mom was sending me good vibrations—literally. I asked her what I could do to help. The chimes kept tinkling. But the answer wasn’t any clearer.

In the morning, things became very clear. Triste and Rienne were nowhere to be found. I didn’t have to think for longer than ten seconds to know where they were. Looking for their lost pet, the ornery and troublesome Misty Gale.

Mr. Pertweath made me repeat myself three times before he finally understood the very stark fact: The twins were missing. At last, understanding, he said to Laurie, “Call the police at once.”

Lady Buena Verde shook her head. She looked at me. “You, Philippa. You and your shadowed aura. You find the gardener, and the two of you bring those twins back to this house before noon.” She said it as if she could not be disobeyed.

I didn’t like being ordered around, but I wasn’t inclined to argue with her, despite my horror at the thought of actually speaking to Geoff for the first time since asking the question that must not be spoken. “I’m on it.” I glanced at Mr. Pertweath and added, “Don’t worry. We’ll find them. They’re sensible girls. They were just worried about Misty Gale.”

He didn’t look as if he believed me, but I didn’t blame him. I was relieved to hear him say, “You and Geoff take the property in the back; I’ll take the car and check farther afield.”

I headed off, trying not to be pessimistic. I hoped Geoff would be more optimistic. I really needed a dose of optimism right now, even if it came in very few words. Maybe just a hug. No, that was dangerous ground for the two of us right now.

Geoff didn’t act different from usual when I found him in the goat pen, waiting for me. As I’d predicted, he didn’t say much, just “Figures they’d pick a foggy day” and “I have my flashlight in case they’re holed up in a cave or under some bushes.”

It was breezy outside—a good sign that the fog would dissipate soon—and cold, so I shrugged on the jacket I’d grabbed before running down to report the twins were missing. The fog was so thick that I had an excuse to huddle close to Geoff, which wasn’t a hug but was almost as comforting, without being pathetically needy. I tried to believe that my mother—and maybe the twins’ mother—was hovering in the mist, guiding me to the twins.

We went all the way down to the dock, checking under every rock and bush big enough to hide a child or a goat—and some that weren’t—but there was no sign of the twins. If we had been in a novel, we’d have found a lost scarf or a small footprint to keep us going. We found nothing, but we didn’t stop. I was running on hope, maybe, or just the sound of the sea and the warm feel of Geoff’s arm around me. Had I lost them?

We trudged back toward the house, hoping that they would have been found by the time we returned. Just before we went to admit defeat, the fog lifted and I saw a butterfly on a nearby rock. Not just any butterfly, the Mourning Cloak—the all-gray butterfly. I stopped dead. Geoff stopped too, looking to me for an explanation. I couldn’t think of one that would possibly make sense, so I held my finger to my lips and waited.

I don’t know how long we waited, but I know I was prepared to wait forever, with my eyes on that butterfly. Finally, we heard a goat bleat. Faint, but very clear.

We found them, all three of them, in a small cave, huddled together.

“You found Misty Gale.” I said when they didn’t immediately come out of the cave to greet us.

Geoff was smarter. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“We’re not going back if Lady Buena Verde intends to get rid of our goat.” Triste was firm. Rienne tightened her arm around the goat’s neck. I guess a night spent in a cave with a goat was a major bonding event.

I was reminded of the fact they were only ten by the stubborn way they stared at us. Where did they think they would live, go to school, eat, if they didn’t go home? “Do you think your dad would let that happen? He’s out looking for you and Misty Gale right now. He’s already said he’d get a friend for her, too, remember?”

Triste was skeptical. “When Lady Buena Verde gets mad, even Father can’t always stop her.”

I finally understood my role as nanny, and knew I could master it this time. I plopped myself down by the girls and
said, “The Mourning Cloak showed me where you were.”

“It did?” Triste believed me first, then Rienne.

“I think you’ll be okay if you go home. The Mourning Cloak wouldn’t have ratted you out otherwise, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t tell if Geoff understood why the three of us were so sure a butterfly could keep us safe. But he understood about the goat problem and said, “I’ll make sure Misty Gale never gets out of her pen again. Or the new friend you get her, either.”

The girls scrambled out of their cave, dusting dirt and leaves off their black clothes. Misty Gale followed, blissfully unaware of all the trouble she’d caused.

Geoff was smiling at me. “You’re pretty good at this. No wonder you haven’t run screaming.”

I smiled back but didn’t say anything. I was good at this nanny thing and I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know it.

As we approached the house, we saw Mr. P at the pen and the girls ran toward him, pulling the reluctant goat between them. Geoff put his hand on my arm and stopped me a second. “Laurie and I are just friends.”

To my surprise, I could look into his eyes with hardly any shame at all. “Good to hear it.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Never forget that the end of one story is simply the start of another.

—Lord Dashwood to Miss Adelaide Putnam,
Manor of Dark Dreams
, p. 321

My last day of nannyhood dawned blue and breezy. I had planned on following the schedule as usual, until I looked at the twins’ disappointed faces and remembered something I think we all forgot much too easily: These girls were only ten years old. Their dad had been right—they needed fun, even if they didn’t know it.

“It’s time to blow this Popsicle stand,” I said, heading for the elevator. “I don’t care if you call it a domain or a prison, it’s not where you need to be right now, is it?” I turned to see if they were following me. They were. And they were smiling. “Ready for fun, are you?”

“Ready to put myself right in the path of the pointless police.” Triste said, and saluted me. Rienne curtsied.

We went by Laurie without a word. She was busy in her
new, much more responsible position. I don’t know whether it was our grins or our noisy footsteps that made her break off the call and follow us.

Mr. Pertweath was hunched over his desk, staring at a set of legal documents. Definitely not fun. Lady Buena Verde was standing over him. And we came through the doors, three noisy kids who didn’t plan on going away—or at least not going away quietly.

“We’re going into Bar Harbor for ice cream, candy, and arcade games. Want to come?”

Lady Buena Verde said, “Out of the question. We have too much to do.”

Laurie stepped in. “Mr. Pertweath, I think I can clear my schedule if you need me to take over business for the afternoon.”

Geoff joined us, the keys dangling from his fingers. “I hear there are some challengers for my record at Dance Dance Revolution.”

“Pippa will beat you this time.” The twins were really spooky the way they chanted the challenge together and grinned their identical grins.

Geoff wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Maybe she will, and maybe she won’t.”

“Maybe I will. Then what will you do?” I teased him.

“I guess I’ll take you home, so I know where you live for when I stop by to see you every now and again.”

I ignored the cell phone ringing in my pocket. It was only Sarah, and she’d just have to wait to hear the details until we were all done having fun.

When it comes to boys, every girl could use a magic spell. . . .

Life is unfair. Mega unfair. And it’s all my parents’ fault.
I
certainly wouldn’t choose to leave the house I was practically born in, not to mention all my friends, my school, my
world
. And just how sneaky was it to give me the cell phone I’ve been begging for since before I left for cheer-leading camp (picture phone, text messaging, unlimited minutes, the works) just before dropping the bomb?

I should have known something was up. But, no. I was not prepared for them to spring the bad news—no, strike that. The
catastrophic
news.

We’re moving. New state, new house, new school. No more sleepovers, no more a.m. gab fests with Maddie before school. No more . . . anything. Except, of course, magic. That I can have. As if I want it. My life has been just fine without magic for almost sixteen years. So why do I need it now?

Mom and Dad are lucky that they have me for their daughter. Ten years of academic excellence and five years of cheerleading have taught me how to handle any crisis like
Jane Bond—shaken, not stirred. Even when said crisis comes with a major twist.

I guess it’s not surprising that, at almost four hundred years old, Mom thinks it’s no big deal to uproot us. Witches think different, I learned that before I learned to walk. But Dad has no excuse. He’s not even fifty yet, and he’s mortal. He’s attached to his things in a way witches outgrow around the hundredth birthday (or so says Mom when I ask why I can’t have Dolce & Gabbana like the other kids).

I’d say my life is over, but I’ve used that line so often, it doesn’t even get an eye roll from Dad. Would you believe Mom even did a little spell to make harp sounds play—just like she used to do back when I was thirteen and, I admit, a teensy-weensy bit of a whine-o-mat. And all I’d said, quite reasonably, was “I want to stay and live with Maddie until I graduate.”

If only they were reasonable. But I guess I should know by now that
reasonable
is not one of the weapons in the parental arsenal.

Mom and Dad tried to softball the news that we were moving from Beverly Hills, California, to Salem, Massachusetts, by telling us our new house had an indoor pool. Big whoop. Our old house had an outdoor pool, no snow in the forecast for a zillion years, and Beverly Hills High School, where I was going to be the very first junior to be named head cheerleader and maybe, just maybe, run for student council.