Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) (33 page)

But he knew. He had ways of knowing. He found Sheridan and thrust a glass of mud at her.

Don’t drink it.

Oh, but she was hungry. Hungry enough to eat anything, even dirt.

She didn’t say anything when she took the glass from him. She never said anything again after she drank it. Her voice was gone.

“I can’t stand the damned singing.”

We hadn’t known he could hear.

“How much longer will we be here?” I asked. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know yet that Sheridan would never speak or sing again. I didn’t know that she would die a little inside every day she could not sing. I didn’t know how the song was such a part of her soul.

“As long as it takes for me to figure out how to get past your protections!”

Protections. We had protections? But he’d said too much and he fled the room.

What can you do with a surplus of time except regret? We had nothing but regrets. What we should have done. What we should have known. And I most of all.

Sheridan was dying. She could not speak, could not communicate. We made up a sign language, but she did not care.

Food started to come more regularly again, but she did not eat.

We tried to force her, but she threw it up.

Eat, Sheridan, eat. We’ll find some way to get your voice back.

She was a part of my soul. A part of Sherry’s soul. We clung to one another, watching her die.

One can die of a broken heart. I didn’t, but I wished I would.

The only reason I didn’t was for Sherry. We clung to one another. We held so tightly I thought we would merge into one.

We felt the instant Sheridan’s spirit left her body. Part of ours must have gone with it.

There’s power in three. Now, we were two.

Mr. Hart came inside the room for the second time the day she died. Was that regret on his monstrous face? No, not that. He didn’t feel a thing. No one could feel as much as Sherry and I.

Oh, Sheridan. Don’t take Sheridan.

“At least there’s nothing to protect your powers any longer,” Mr. Hart said. “I wanted all of it, but this will do. It will all be over soon.”

Soon?

The scene went black and I thought we’d returned to my quiet place again, but it wasn’t a moment before I realized we hadn’t. We just couldn’t see. The black was in our eyes and in our minds.

Sherry? Sheridan? Where are you?

Nothing. Alone.

Pain.

Was it Sheridan’s death? It felt like Sheridan’s death, again and again and again. That moment. That agonizing moment when her soul left her body.

But it was my soul. Her soul. My soul. Sherry’s soul.

My body was on fire. A thousand knives. A jolt of electricity.

Body. Soul. Heart. Mind.

The blackness was deafening. It roared and it clawed and it ached.

I screamed. For the first time since Mr. Wolf had cast the spell, I was aware of my own body and attempting to claw my way back to it. I felt my throat open with wild abandon as my lungs tried to push their way out behind the force of the scream.

Not yet! You wanted to see! You wanted to know!

Did I? Did I want this? What was this? What was this!

It was still black, but the insanity had dulled to fear and weariness. I was in my quiet place and Mom was there with me, trembling.

He took my magic. Every drop.

Your magic?

All but the gift. The gifts cannot be separated from the soul.

Flickers of color danced through my quiet place.

There’s nothing here. No magic. Just like me.

Mom, you use magic all the time.

Borrowed. From my children. For almost two decades I’ve lived for pregnancy and, to a lesser extent, nursing. Why do you think I nurse my babies for over two years?

You said it was good for us.

It is. And the intimate bond maintains the magical connection, though it weakens with weaning.

Borrowed magic. I never got it back. It was truly gone. There was truly a hole in my soul where the magic should have been.

Blackness in the quiet place. But with each child, the quiet place changed. I borrowed theirs. I wouldn’t let myself think of the day it would end. The day there were seven and the youngest had weaned.

Empty. Sad. Sullen. I’d barely noticed. I’d been too busy starting my own business. What a joke that had been. Failure. Useless. Inadequate.

Who was feeling that? We didn’t know.

But what happened then? Did he let you go?

Not exactly.

We returned to the basement one last time. Sherry and I knew just what had happened to us. We had been clinging to one another for weeks, our fingernails clawing into one another’s bodies. Our skin was broken and bleeding. We were emaciated. We hadn’t eaten. How we had survived the lack of water would remain a mystery until I really studied magic.

And Mr. Hart was not done with us yet. He had our magic and now he would have one of us for his own. He would have one of us and he would sell one of us as chattel. As breeding stock.

Strong genes. No threat. Easily controlled.

My life, always in the hands of powerful men who would use me.

I wrenched my mind free of her chain of thought.
Not Dad!

Love. Gratitude.
No, not Dad. Edward rescued me.

From what?

He sold me. Mr. Hart sold me. Separated me from Sherry. Oh, Sherry! No, leave her alone. She was pregnant inside two months and then...

With Jason.

But she lives alone now.

Edward rescued her, too.

Dad. Didn’t I hate him?

No, I loved him. He loved me.

Don’t be too hard on him. He just wanted to make me happy.
He resisted for a long time. Said it wouldn’t work. Should have listened. Was just afraid... so afraid... that someone would hurt them... like they hurt Sheridan. I wanted the power of seven so badly... too badly... and I wanted another baby.

Cassandra. Oh, Cassandra. I’m so sorry. It didn’t work. The disownment didn’t take. My heart wasn’t in it. You can’t break a bond of love, and in my heart, I never let you go.

We were in my quiet place, and she was begging me to forgive her.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

But what about... Who bought you? How did Dad rescue you?

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you.

Love. And... Respect?

I was never able to live without the magic. Not really. You are stronger than I am.

Tears began spilling down my cheeks and with the hand that wasn’t clutching my mother’s, I wiped them away – or tried to. “I forgive you,” I whispered. It was with my real voice this time. My real hand was clutching her frail hand. Real tears were pouring down my cheeks. My throat felt hoarse from the scream that had escaped earlier. Sensation began to return to my body.

It didn’t mean things were perfect between us. It didn’t mean I condoned what she had done. She had wronged me, and we both knew it. Only time and effort could heal our relationship. But, I realized as I gazed back over the memories we had shared, I needed to forgive her. Understanding helped, but the forgiveness wasn’t for her. It was for me. For my healing. Then, perhaps, we could work on healing our relationship.

A strong hand fell on my shoulder. Mr. Wolf didn’t say anything. He let me have my moment, but he showed me he was there. Had been there all along.

Mom’s eyes fluttered open and her gaze fell upon me. “None of the others know the truth.”

“I won’t tell them,” I promised. I was used to keeping secrets, after all.

“I will,” Mom said.

After that, two nurses and a doctor came into the unit and began fussing around the bed.

“You’ll have to leave now,” one of them said.

“I’ll be home tonight,” Mom whispered.

“We’ll need to keep you here for at least a few more days,” the doctor was saying to her, but she and I both knew better. She’d be home tonight.

I
SLIPPED AWAY FROM THE HOSPITAL
shortly after giving my family the
news that Mom was awake. They noticed, but nobody said anything. I think they understood that by forgiving my mother (and, indirectly, my father), I had opened a door but not yet stepped through. We needed time to figure out our new relationship. And I needed time to think.

I had to take a personal day my second day on the job. The sheriff claimed to understand, but it worried me. His prediction about my unpredictability was turning out to be truer than I would have guessed, and he no longer had an actively weird case open which would benefit from my inside information. But even knowing the risks, I had to take one last day to think, to reflect, and to figure out where to go from here.

I didn’t get the chance.

When I climbed the stairs to my second-story apartment, someone waited for me outside the door. She didn’t look familiar, but I knew instantly who she was. Perhaps it was the way her eyes kept shifting from the stairway to the door, or the way she chewed at her fingernails until they bled. But I knew this was a young woman who had been through a lot lately. It could only be Renee.

She jumped when she saw me. “Are you Cassie Scot?”

“Yes. Are you Renee Larkin?”

She shot another frightened glance along the hallway. “How did you know? You’re not the one who’s been following me, are you?”

“No.” I knew who was, and that Victor wouldn’t be far away, but I didn’t say so to her. “Your mother called the other day to say you were missing. She’s worried about you.”

“Oh.” Renee brushed her hands nervously against her jean shorts. “I couldn’t go home. She’d be in danger. I’m putting you in danger being here, but I just don’t know where else to go. I’m so tired of running.”

I took a few hesitant steps toward her. “Why don’t we go inside so you can tell me all about it?”

Renee glanced at the door, as if it could tell her something about the safety of that move. Maybe it could. Then she pulled a battered business card from her pocket. “Why do you say you’re a normal detective?”

“Ah, that. Well, I was trying not to take paranormal cases.”

“You mean like ghosts?”

I thought about the bank robber – my brother – and cringed. “Exactly. But people seem to want me to help with that kind of stuff because...”

“You know something about it?” Renee asked hopefully.

“A little bit. We really should go inside.”

Something steeled inside of her and she nodded, once. I skirted past her, unlocked the door, and ushered her inside.

“Do you want some tea?” I asked.

She shook her head, then paused and nodded. “I’ve been up all night. I suppose I need something.”

“Have a seat. I’ll just be a minute.”

A few minutes later I poured two mugs of tea, handing one to her. “Thank you.” She took a sip and shuddered, placing it on the card table we had been using as a dining room table.. “Someone’s been following me since I escaped yesterday. I keep thinking I’ve lost him, but there he is again. I went south for a while, then doubled back north. I wanted to stop for the night but I knew he was back there, somewhere.”

“Escaped? What do you mean?”

She fidgeted in her chair. “Let me start by saying Mackenzie didn’t hurt those girls.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How do you know?”

“Because I was with him the night they disappeared. Almost all night.” Her face went a little pink and she turned away, making her meaning abundantly clear. “They set him up.”

“They who?” I asked.

“It was... It was...” She took a deep breath, but couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

“What did you see?” I tried to make my voice sound gentle, even as I seethed with impatience.

“It was impossible. Completely impossible. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Renee,” I said, my voice still gentle, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

She took another sip of tea and stared out the window. “The last time I saw Mackenzie was Thursday morning. I was in the stables and he was just outside, talking to one of the local deputies. I’m not sure why I didn’t go outside, but I hesitated in the shadows behind the door. Then I saw Mackenzie had a gun. I knew he kept one, but I didn’t know why he had it then. And he was pointing it at his own... at his own head.”

I reached for a Kleenex and handed it to her. “Was he suicidal?”

“No! He didn’t do it! He pulled the trigger, but I swear he didn’t do it. You should have seen the look on his face. He was terrified. He didn’t want to pull that trigger. Someone made him do it. That deputy, I think. He had this weird look on his face and I could smell burning incense and then I hid in the tack room while the deputy put his body in one of the stalls. He acted like he didn’t weigh anything at all, but Mackenzie was twice his size. I watched out the window until he wasn’t looking and then I made a run for it.”