The Nightmare Affair (25 page)

“I won’t,” I said, finding it hard to speak.

Paul kissed me. “See you later.”

I walked into the cafeteria, clutching the envelope tight enough to crumple it. I ignored Selene’s questioning look as I joined her at our usual table. Hunching over, I opened the envelope, pulled out the paper inside, and began to read. It was an e-mail addressed to Magistrate Kirkwood from Consul Vanholt. There was nothing in the subject line and the content was brief:

The Nightmare must be involved. We should bring her in but keep a close eye on her. She can’t be trusted, but I’m sure she’s the key to solving this.

I read it three times, trying not to jump to conclusions. My mother wasn’t mentioned specifically, after all, and the overall meaning was pretty vague. Still, it didn’t exactly give me a warm fuzzy. Not when I considered how few Nightmares there were in Chickery.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” asked Selene.

I nodded even though the idea of food made me want to throw up. I tucked the e-mail back in the envelope and hid it inside my psionics textbook. I went through the motion of getting food and pretending to eat it, but I didn’t manage more than a couple of bites.

After ten minutes of silence, Selene broke down and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I marveled at how long she resisted asking. Selene was my hero in that way, the epitome of self-control.

I shook my head. “I’ve got to go, actually. I want to get to psionics early.”

Selene narrowed her eyes. “You going to talk to your mom?”

“Something like that. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Be careful. She’ll be mad if she catches you snooping.”

I grimaced. Leave it to Selene to guess my real purpose for leaving early. During the lunch hour, I figured there was a good chance my mom wouldn’t be in the classroom. There was also a good chance she’d left her purse in there, too. She had a chronic habit of doing that. Sort of defeated the purpose of carrying a purse, in my opinion, but that was my mother for you.

I’d been hearing rumors about the new psionics teacher all day, most of them surprisingly positive, like how cool and fun she was, and how pretty, of course.

When I arrived at the classroom, I stopped outside the door and listened for noise inside. I didn’t hear anything, so I went in. The room looked the same as always. This was the first time I’d been in here since the dance, and the sight of what remained of Mr. Ankil hit me like a sudden plunge into icy water. The sadness was almost unbearable for a moment.

With a huge effort, I bottled up the sorrow and focused on the task at hand. I spotted a leopard print purse on top of the teacher’s desk and made a beeline for it.

I was halfway done riffling through the obscene amount of contents—lipstick, travel-sized hairspray, toothbrush, wallet, and so on—when I heard footsteps outside the door. The lunch bell hadn’t rung yet, and I panicked—it had to be my mother. Shoving the emery board I’d been holding back into the purse, I yanked the zipper closed and raced to the closet.

I stepped inside, wedging myself in between the items and pulling the door shut. Something was groping my butt, and I glanced over my shoulder to see a head-and-hand dummy. Thank goodness it was just bad positioning and not because of animation. When I looked back, I realized the door hadn’t closed all the way. I reached for the handle then stopped. Through the small slit, I watched my mother enter the room with Mr. Culpepper trailing behind her. My curiosity did a wild leap inside my chest at the sight of them together.

As they approached the desk, Moira said, “Do you have it with you?”

Culpepper pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his brow. “If you’ve got the payment.”

“You’re
sure
it will do all you claim?”

“Cut from the same stone as mine, in a manner of speaking. But if it don’t work you can return it for a full refund.”

“What a comfort.” Moira opened the purse, pulled out some money, and gave it to Culpepper.

He handed her a brown paper package the size of a small jewelry box. “What’re you planning on using it for?”

Moira smirked at him. “Do you ask that question of all your clients?”

“Nope. Most of the time it’s obvious.”

“Well then, I think the same can be assumed here. And if I’m not mistaken, this concludes our business.”

Culpepper grunted then stalked out the door in his slight, shuffling gait.

Moira slid the box into her purse then cut her eyes to the closet. I stepped back from the crack in the door, my pulse quickening. There was no way she could’ve seen me. Not unless she had X-ray vision.

“You can come out now, Destiny,” my mother said.

I froze, dumbstruck.

She waved. “Come on. I know you’re in the closet.”

Wishing I knew an invisibility spell, I pushed the door open and stepped out. “Hey, Mom.”

“Don’t ‘Hey, Mom’ me.” Moira put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing in there?”

“Looking for a broom?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Why are you here?” She tapped the toe of one boot.

“Um, class is starting?”

“Try again.”

I hesitated, knowing I was on shaky ground, and not just because she was my mother. No, I understood that if I asked what I wanted to, what I
needed
to, I might do irreparable damage to our relationship. I wasn’t entirely sure I was cool with that. True, it wasn’t much of a relationship, but she was still my mother.

Who may be a killer.

“What were you doing with Mr. Culpepper?” I said, stalling, although I wanted to know the answer to this, too.

Mom raised her hand and began examining her fingernails. “Not your concern, and also not pertinent to why you’re here so early.”

“All right, I want to know what you’re doing for the senate.”

She dropped her hands, casting me a snide look. “And that’s why you were hiding in my closet? I don’t think so. Stop avoiding the subject, Destiny. I’m wise to your little ‘ask a lot of questions to avoid the truth’ game.”

I glared at her, not appreciating her smug attitude that she knew me so well. Truth was she didn’t know me at all. Two weeks a summer and the occasional phone call or e-mail didn’t cut it. Not by a long shot. “I want to know what you were doing at the dance.”

Moira sighed, angrily. “What’s this sudden obsession with my activities? You’ve never cared before.”

I
never cared?
Give me a break
. “Fine. You want the truth? My sudden
obsession
is that you’re the reason I was down in the tunnels when Mr. Ankil was killed. I was following
you
. So you either had to have seen something or
done
something. And I know what you can do, how The Will doesn’t matter to people like us.”

Her nostrils flared. “Just what are you insinuating?”

“Oh, come off it, Mom. I know the truth about Nightmares.”

A flush spread up Moira’s neck, but she didn’t respond, merely stood there, staring at me as if I were some new and ghastly species of bug. One she’d like to squish under the sole of her high-heeled, black leather boots.

The lunch bell rang. The realization that we weren’t going to be alone for much longer spurred me onward. I
had
to know the truth. “Did you do it, Mom?”

Her gaze turned fiery. “I can’t
believe
you would ask me that. What kind of a
daughter
are you?”

Her words hurt, cutting me in deep, sensitive places. Tears flooded my eyes. All the emotions I’d been bottling up for the last few days exploded outward. “Me? Me? What kind of
mother
are you? You’re no mother at all, that’s what. You left me and Dad when I was just a baby. You didn’t care about me, not when I was a plain old human. When you thought I was just your
mule
offspring from a marriage you’d rather forget. Oh, no, you didn’t care about me until I got magic. So don’t you dare criticize me as a
daughter
when you’ve been such a crappy
mother
.”

By the time I finished my tirade, I was panting. I hadn’t gotten this worked up over my mother’s exit from my life in years. I’d long since learned to ignore the resentment, the hurt like a canker sore around my heart. But I couldn’t ignore it right now, staring her in the face.

Moira’s eyes remained fixed on mine, her expression masked. If she’d been moved by my outburst, it didn’t show. Her lack of response bothered me even more, especially considering the torrential downpour on my face. Someone so cold was capable of anything.

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Say
something
.”

“Fine. How’s this?” she said through gritted teeth. “You only think you followed me down into that tunnel, Destiny. And even if it was me, that’s hardly reason enough to believe me capable of murder.”

I threw up my hands. “Oh, yeah? I’ve got more reasons than that. Even the senate thinks you can’t be trusted.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“You don’t believe me?” I yanked open my backpack and pulled out the envelope with the consul’s e-mail. “Take a look at this.”

My mother snatched the envelope from my hand, ripped out the paper inside, and read the e-mail. Then she looked at me, her expression darkening. “Where did you get this?”

Uh-oh.
Stupid, stupid me
. I paled at my blunder. “It’s a secret. And it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Moira pursed her lips.

People were starting to file into the room, and I quickly wiped away my tears with my shirtsleeve. Unfortunately, there was no hiding the telltale puffiness in my cheeks.

“I want that back,” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s
mine
.”

Mom shook her head, and from the stubborn look on her face I knew it was no good, not unless I wanted to fight her for it. Somehow, I didn’t think tackling my mother/teacher would go over very well. Not to mention the total mortification I’d face when I lost.

“I suggest you don’t push me about it,” she said in a steely voice. “Not considering how
violent
you believe me to be. Now go sit down. And don’t you dare speak to me again.”

I swallowed, unsure if I felt guilty or relieved. I also wasn’t sure if she meant don’t speak to her again today or
ever
. In the end, I decided I didn’t care.

20

The Tomb

By Friday, I understood my mom meant what she’d said about never speaking to her again. She hadn’t even looked at me during any of my psionics classes. I told myself it didn’t bother me, although it was tough not being able to ask questions. Especially when I came to accept that she
was
a pretty good teacher. There wasn’t much point in raising my hand, though. Not when the person with the power to acknowledge it was pretending I didn’t exist. I’d gone from a bug to a nonentity.

Worst of all, I still didn’t know if she was innocent or not. She never actually said that she hadn’t been in the tunnel. She might’ve blown a lid at my accusation, but I couldn’t tell if it was righteous anger, guilt, or just plain good acting.

Then there was the exchange with Culpepper. I showed up early to class twice more, hoping to rummage through her purse again, but she stopped leaving her stuff unattended. The next step would be to search her home, but I didn’t know if she’d moved into one of the faculty town houses on campus now that she was a teacher or if she was still in her apartment on Waterfront Lane. It was rather depressing not knowing where my mother was living, but given the current state of our relationship, not that surprising, either.

I meant to ask Paul what he thought about my mother’s behavior, but every time I saw him or spoke to him on the phone, we ended up talking about other things—things that made me feel all tingly inside and more than a little eager for our next date.

I wanted to confide in Selene, but I was afraid of her reaction. What if she told me to go to the sheriff? I definitely wasn’t ready to take my suspicions about my mother that far without solid proof.

It was my mother I was thinking about when I left the dorm room at midnight on Friday, headed for Eli’s. I opened the door, stepped out, and collided with someone that shouldn’t have been there. I shrieked and leaped backward.

“You’re late,” the someone said in a familiar voice.

I let out a huge exhale as I recognized Bethany Grey. “Um, okay. And you care because…?”

She grimaced. “Heaven help me, you are
so
much like your mother. We’re finally going to begin our dream training session tonight. I would’ve preferred to have done this much sooner, but seeing how you skipped the last few sessions…”

“It’s not my fault I was sick.”
Conveniently,
I silently added. In truth, I blew off the first one because it seemed like a waste of time after all I’d learned from my mother. And the second had been scheduled a couple days after I found out the truth about Nightmares from Mr. Marrow, and I didn’t think I could face the possibility of learning any more unpleasant facts. “And I’m
nothing
like my mom, thank you very much.”

Bethany huffed then turned on one thick, bulky heel of her Dr. Martens boots and headed down the hallway toward the exit. I followed after her. She wore all black clothes like me and had her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her resemblance to a gorilla was more striking than ever in that getup.

“How come I didn’t know we were doing this tonight?” I asked as we descended the stairs into the tunnels.

“Last-minute decision. Lady Elaine had some concerns over the apparent lack of progress in your dream journals.”

“Like she’s got any business complaining about lack of progress,” I muttered, although I suspected the truth was that Lady Elaine sprung it on me so I couldn’t ditch again.

Bethany marched along, ignoring me.

As usual, Eli was still awake when we arrived. To my horror, Lance was up, too.

“Well, here she comes,” Lance said when I came through the door. “Quick, Eli, better run and hide before she curses us.”