Halfway Hexed (13 page)

“Why?”

I hesitated, trying to find the right words, the pressure building again. “I think he thought I would get myself into trouble if I talked to people today.”

“And that would make today special how?”

“Can you go away?” I gasped.

“I can,” he said in a tone that implied he wouldn’t.

I needed to stop talking. If I could get him talking that would help. “You know some things about my family, don’t you?”

“A bit.”

“Do you know anything about my grandmother?”

“I know she lived in Houston.”

“Yeah, my granny Justine, but she’s dead for sure. I saw her in the casket with my very own eyes. She looked like they’d stolen her from a wax museum, but I’m sure they didn’t. Well, pretty sure.” I slapped a hand over my mouth again. What an awful thing to say!

Lennox smiled in an expression that was just like Bryn’s.

“He looks like you. Bryn does,” I said.

“Yes. Except for the eyes and the hands.”

“What’s the Granville Prize?”

Lennox looked surprised for a moment. “Are you—Did he mention it?”

“Nope. John Barrett did.”

“Ah.” Lennox leaned against the car and looked at the setting sun. “The Granville Prize is the highest award someone from our world can receive. It’s rather like a human Nobel Peace Prize or a Pulitzer.”

“How do you get it?”

“There are different ways. In his case it was for writing a spell that changed the way wizards think about celestial magic. He didn’t do it alone, but that didn’t make it any less remarkable.”

I smiled. I could hear the pride in Lennox’s voice. Usually Lennox acted like the end of the world was next Tuesday, and the rest of us were too dumb to know it. No need for him to be civil. No need for him to care about much.

“He wrote it with his friend Andre?”

Lennox looked at me closely then. “Taking the Bryn Lyons 101 course, are you? Is that because you need him to sort out your magic?”

“Nope. He just interests me.”

“He interests most people,” he said dismissively.

I waited.

‟Andre’s a genius in his own way. Mathematics and science are his forte. Especially physics. When Bryn met him at school, Andre was an outcast, an oafish boy with no discernable social skills. The only things he and Bryn had in common were celestial magic and a fascination with theoretical magic—spells that should work but cannot be proven to work because no wizard has enough power to cast them.

‟Bryn wanted Andre to be allowed into an exclusive club at their prep school, but the other members refused. That club was a ticket to unlimited success, but Bryn left it because they wouldn’t admit Andre. It seemed a terrible decision at the time, but Bryn could see what others could not. Andre understood the universe on a fundamental level, but one he could not communicate or apply. Bryn saw its potential, and Bryn has an unparalleled gift for spell-writing that he inherited.

“The two became such close friends that Andre insisted on going to Dublin for the summers to study alongside Bryn. And late one July, they wrote a spell that left the master spell-writers speechless. It later won the Granville and other awards.” He looked at me then. ‟When they wrote it, they were fourteen years old.”

“Wow.”

“Yes, wow,” Lennox said dryly. “At that point, in terms of magic, Bryn could have done anything with his life. But a year later he got expelled, and everything changed.”

“Expelled? Why?”

Lennox looked back at the horizon. “Because he needed something that no one could give him, and he was determined to get it, no matter what it cost. Sometimes even when he knows a thing has the potential to destroy all he’s worked for, he cannot let it go.” Lennox shook his head and looked at me. ‟Which is why I wish you’d leave him alone.”

“Me? You think I’m bad for him?”

“I know you are. See what he’s gotten himself into because he couldn’t resist helping you?”

“You got him into this, too. You stole the locket.”

“Yes, I did, but I never expected him to get involved with you or you with him. You’d barely even met, and your family had some sacred rule against it. Your mother and aunt certainly said as much.”

“But they didn’t explain? You don’t know why?”

“No, I don’t know why. Nor do I care.”

As he walked away, I added, “Well, I do. A lot.”

The instant that Bryn lifted the spell, I felt the change. It was like my chest had been duct-taped for hours and someone had just cut the tape off. I twisted and stretched and breathed in huge breaths, feeling much better.

“Well, now I know how a mummy feels. Getting wrapped up in constrictive bandages, I really can’t recommend it,” I said to Mercutio as I started the car.

I couldn’t go to the banquet at City Hall in jeans and a turtleneck, so I had to stop by my house. TJ and his crew had put a new door on my house, but I didn’t have the key so I went in the backway again. Merc didn’t come in. He went over the fence with a pounce, and I suspected he was going off to hunt for his dinner, which made me feel like a bad friend for not having fed him sooner.

“Merc can take care of himself. Better than you can most of the time,” I mumbled, closing and locking the sliding glass door. The house was stuffy and a little dusty, so I opened the kitchen window above the sink, figuring it was too small for Scarface to climb through and that I’d be able to hear Merc yowling if he wanted to come in.

After I took a shower, I went to Momma’s big closet where all three of us kept our party dresses. I leaned inside so I could see them well enough to pick one, then a flash of light behind me nearly made me jump out of my skin. I was only wearing a pink tank top and panties, which left me feeling underdressed for a fight. My eyes darted to the closet floor, and I grabbed a blue stiletto heel that had to be Aunt Mel’s. I jumped up and turned with the heel facing my would-be attacker.

I was shocked to find Craig Cuskin, my fifteen-year-old neighbor, snapping a picture with a little digital camera.

‟What the Sam Houston do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking pictures of you.”

“Give me that camera,” I said, transferring the shoe to my left hand so I could hold out my right one.

“Can’t do that,” he said, tucking it into the pocket of his khakis.

“Have you lost your mind? You know my ex-husband’s a sheriff’s deputy and won’t take kindly to you breaking and entering and taking pictures of me in my undies. Plus, you’re the judge’s son. You ought to know better than to break the law.”

He smiled, revealing clear plastic braces. “First off, everyone knows Zach Sutton left town ’cause you started running around on him. And second, the back door was open.”

“That is not why he left town! And the back door was locked.” How in the world had he fit through the window? He was almost as tall as me, but I guessed he was kind of a string bean.

“Your word against mine,” he said. “I don’t think you wanna ask the police to make that choice right now. I’ve heard you’re not too popular around the station.”

“Even if the door was open, you can’t just two-step in.”

“I called out. I guess you didn’t hear me over the running water.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell you what. Let me put on some clothes and then we’ll take a walk over to talk to your momma about this.”

“I don’t think you should do that. You see, some ladies have been to talk to my dad about you. They think you’re practicing witchcraft.”

My eyes widened.

“He didn’t believe them, but he’d probably have to rethink it if he saw the footage I picked up on my video camera that I rigged to the top of your fence.”

“You’ve been spying on me?” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smug grin. “First it was just to get you watering the yard in a tank top and shorts. Me and my friends, we take pictures around town and trade ’em. I lucked out living behind you; shots of you in a swimsuit are worth ten of any other girl. Then you came out that one night naked.” He let out a low whistle. “I don’t know what you were saying, but it was hot! The video’s kind of grainy, but the guys didn’t complain, even when I made them pay to download it.”

I socked him. His head jerked, and he buckled, landing hard on his knees. When he looked up, I slapped his face hard enough to leave a bright red handprint, then I snaked my hand into his pocket and pulled that camera out before he even had a chance to recover.

I deleted the pictures on the card and then slammed the camera lens down on the dresser, smashing it to pieces.

He looked up at me, startled, his face pale except for the red swelling under his eye and the handprint on his cheek.

“In this life, Craig, we’ve all got our choices to make. If you act like a man, I’ll treat you like one. If you act like a bad man, I’ll treat you like one. You get me?”

His cheeks flushed. “Did you kill Earl Stanton? Some people think you did, but I said there was no way. Thought you were too sweet.”

“Stand up.”

He got to his feet and looked me straight in the eye.

“Earl Stanton caught me in the woods and tried to rape me. I hit him in the head with a rock. Hit him hard enough to crack even the thickest skull.” I paused to let my words sink in, then added, “He didn’t die from that, but he could’ve.”

“Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He did.”

“But look, these were just pictures. I wouldn’t have touched you, unless you wanted me to.”

Unless I’d wanted him to, I thought wryly. Like I’d take a tumble in the grass with a fifteen-year-old? The things boys get in their heads. “Well, I’m sure glad to hear it. Go on home now.”

He was halfway out the door, when he turned back. “I’m sorry. The pictures—it was just us fooling around.”

“No, it wasn’t. Go do what you can to make things right by getting those videos erased. Then come tell me again that you’re sorry, and I’ll forgive you.”

He nodded and left.

I rubbed the back of my neck and shook my head, grimacing. So now, on top of everything else, I was an occult porn star.

Chapter 14

I climbed out of my Focus with an amethyst-colored crystal pin in my upswept hair and an automatic handgun duct-taped to my calf. I wore a royal purple floor-length taffeta gown with very high heels that had a black lace overlay, which made them look more than a little like lingerie. Except for my underwear and the strip of duct tape, not a thing that I wore belonged to me.

The black-and-white banner hanging over the doors to City Hall announced the night’s benefit. I fell in step with the Shoreside crowd who made their way inside.

The lobby sported an eclectic mix of decorations, and guests moved from table to table admiring what people had done to celebrate the occasion. The high school art class’s framed collage of photo clippings of Texas wildlife had dabs of fall colors that the students had painted on. Really pretty. I wondered if any of them would want to consider cake decorating as a weekend job.

Hanging from rods and spilling over a table was a beautiful quilt from Duvall’s First Sewing Circle. Next there was a table from the Duvall Hunting Club with all kinds of stuffed wildlife. That seemed kind of crazy to me. It was like the hunters were saying, “You protect the animals, so we can kill them later.” But since I’m not a vegetarian, I guess I’ve got no room to judge.

I spotted Jenna Reitgarten in a black-and-white striped dress. Her hair and head moved as a single unit. When it came to hair spray, someone at the drugstore needed to cut her off.

I ducked behind the very robust Mrs. Schnitzer so that Jenna might not see me. That put me in a position to see my chocolate sculpture. DeeDAW had had the good sense to use clear fishing line to suspend the bird just like I’d planned. People were circling the sculpture and pointing and smiling. I got a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. They liked my work.

I kept watching the people until I locked eyes with Mindy.

Uh-oh.

I hurried to the ballroom doors where Smitty was standing guard. Well, technically it wasn’t a ballroom, more of an all-purpose meeting room, but the council had it decorated real fancy for formal events.

“Hi.”

“Ticket,” Smitty said flatly, holding out his hand.