T*Witches 3: Seeing Is Deceiving (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

HELPING HANDS

“Extraordinary tackle!” The boy was obviously shaken — but not stirred enough to be angry with her. Which was lucky, considering Cam had clumsily managed to knock them both to the ground!

Cam turned crimson and managed a weak, “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I just did that.”

“And yet, it appears you did,” he said teasingly, starting to get up. He was obviously unhurt. But when Cam didn’t respond right away, he added, “Hey, crash-test, are you okay?”

She shook her head and focused, finally locking eyes with the boy she’d body-slammed. His were the
color of cocoa, a light milky chocolate. His tousled hair was the same color.

Cam’s hands went clammy. Her heart began to pound, she could feel her cheeks start to burn — and strangely, goose bumps rose at the back of her neck. It felt less like a premonition, more like a powerful attraction to the hottie she’d just knocked over. Because, on a scale of one to studliness, this boy was, she chuckled inwardly at the expression that came to her, knock-down-drag-out off the charts.

Cam dusted herself off. “Only my pride is bruised, thanks. I am so embarrassed!” She reached out, assuming he’d extended his hand to help her up.

Assumption wrong.

Instead, he bent to pick up her tote, which she’d dropped during the head-on. It was when they were both standing that she noticed how tall he was, easily over six feet. Her eye level was at his chest, on which he wore an unusual pin, in the shape of a hand. It read,
I’M SHANE. ASK ME ABOUT HELPING HANDS.

He laughed, seeing her staring at the pin. “Yes, I am.”

“Uh … you’re what?” Another clever retort, Cam bemoaned. That’s flustered — one; composure — zero.

“Shane Wright. That’s my name. And you would be …”

“Cam.” Flushed, she amended, “That is, Camryn Barnes.”

“Well, ‘That Is Camryn Barnes,’” he teased, “I wasn’t expecting you to plow into me, but I’m glad you did.”

“You’re glad?” Okay, off to an improbable start, but he was totally flirting.

“Sure … now you have to give me your full attention. You owe me.”

Or not.

Cam frowned. Shane, devastatingly cute as he was, was selling something. He probably only considered Cam a customer — and a klutz! She took in the freestanding cart he was working at. It was packed with books and pamphlets, all with the same distinctive logo.

“Helping Hands is a new organization. We raise money for kids in need,” the boy was explaining earnestly, as if Cam hadn’t just plowed into him.

“Like UNICEF?” Cam asked, still trying to regain her composure.

“Sort of, but more focused. We run Sunshine House, which is a shelter for kids who’ve been abused and abandoned or living below the poverty level. You’d be surprised how many kids fall into that category.”

Cam flashed on Alex. Her twin had certainly been part of
that
statistic, living in a tin trailer, her critically ill
mom working two minimum-wage jobs. If she’d only known Alex back then, she could have helped. How grossly unfair that they’d been separated.

“Needy children, huh? You managed that in record time!” Alex had followed her after all. And, thanks a lot, managed to break up her moment with Shane.

Double take. That’s what usually happened when people saw Cam and Alex together for the first time. Coupled with some lame attempt at a clever comment like, “Are you twins?”

Not this time. Seeing Alex approach got no such response from Shane. Helping Hands boy merely changed his sales tactic. With a terse, “Take a pamphlet, or two — and call if you’re interested in signing up,” he turned his attention to another potential volunteer.

Annoyed, Cam said to Alex, “What are you talking about?”

Alex shrugged and nodded at the Helping Hands cart. “I remind you how privileged you are, and feeling guilty, you run to some volunteer organization. Predictable much, Camryn?”

Cam shot back, “Swing and a miss, Derek Jeter. I did not feel guilty, and as for this” — she motioned to the cart — “in my burning need to get away from you, I accidentally bumped into this cart. It wasn’t here last week.”

“You would know. Mall-crawler that you are.” Alex then pointed up the aisle at someone. “Speaking of which, isn’t that your other shopping half?”

Striding toward them was a more-than-familiar figure. Tall and angular Beth Fish, Cam’s BFF — best friend forever. Her wiry bronze hair fanning out in all directions, Beth usually wore a smile on her good-natured freckled face.

Not now.

As she came upon the twins, she tried but failed to hide her feelings. “I’m surprised to see you here, Cam. Didn’t you say you were doing homework all day?”

For the second time in five minutes, Cam was embarrassed; she’d totally blown it. Beth
had
called earlier to suggest a mall troll. But at the time, Cam was all about writing her social studies paper. Which she really had thought would take all day.

Except it hadn’t. And when Dave, her dad (OK, “adoptive dad” now), had offered her and Alex a ride to the mall, they’d accepted. Dave had reminded the girls that Emily’s birthday wasn’t far off, and he knew Cam would want to get a gift for her mom.

Cam had forgotten that Beth had asked her to go earlier. And now it was worse than a simple disconnect. Seeing Alex, Beth probably assumed that Cam had wanted to just be with her sister, and had purposely left Beth out.

Cam owned her bad and tried to explain. “It was so last minute. My mom’s birthday is coming up, my dad had to go to the office and offered us a ride —”

Beth obviously didn’t believe Cam. “Lose the excuses, Camryn. I just didn’t expect to see you, that’s all. FYI: After all these years, I think I know when your mom’s birthday is.”

Whatever Alex said now wouldn’t help, but she tried anyway. “Eyewitness, that’s how it went down.”

“Speaking of what just went down,” Cam piped up a little too quickly, “you so will not believe it! We were just in the Jewelry Corner and saw this shoplifting.”

Beth’s eyebrows shot up. “No way! What happened? What’d you do?”

Exactly what are you about to tell her?
Alex’s thoughts soared into Cam’s brain like a paper airplane.
Same story you were about to tell the police?

Cam giggled nervously and backpedaled. “I mean, it looked like this girl… was sorta being pushed by this woman … to like … steal this bracelet.”

Miffed, because she knew she was being left out again, Beth shook her head. “You’re being weird. Which so defines you these days.”

Weird was understating it, and Cam knew it. Since they’d met in grade school, she’d been able to tell Beth anything, everything. And vice versa. Their trust in each
other had been total and complete. “Friends till the end,” they always said, locking pinkies when they were young. Now everything was different. There was very little that Cam could tell Beth about the truth, about her past. And this had created a rift between the two best friends. It felt like there was little Cam could do about it.

But Beth could. Deliberately turning away from the twins, she picked up a brochure from the cart, feigning mega-interest in the Helping Hands info. Shane promptly fixed his attention on her. “Hi, can I take a minute of your time to tell you about…” Beth flashed him a shy smile. And told him she had plenty of time. And would love to listen.

Cam stood watching, feeling foolish. Should she insert herself into their convo? After all, she’d bumped into Shane first… not that this was about a cute guy! Besides, now that they had met up, the three of them should hang together. She took a step toward Beth.

But Alex grabbed her elbow and pulled her back, whispering, “Beth doesn’t want you hanging with her right this minute.”

“How would you know? Don’t tell me — she was thinking that!”

“I did not have to hear her thoughts to know her pride is hurt,” Alex whispered as she forced Cam to walk away with her. “You didn’t mean to, but you dissed her.
Now she’s acting like she’s got better things to do. Let her. You’ll make it up to her tomorrow at school. Besides, you still don’t have a present for Emily.”

“
We
don’t have a present,” Cam corrected Alex. It was the only correction required. In terms of everything else her twin had said? Straight up. Alex was right. Again.

Which did not resuscitate Cam’s mood. The girl who “drank sunlight for breakfast,” as Alex sometimes thought, was acting like a dark cloud was hanging over her. And as much as Alex felt like letting Cam brood … she couldn’t. “Let it go,” she advised. “You and Beth have been on the outs before. Forgive and forget, isn’t that what you two are all about?”

Cam sighed. “I guess. It’s just that something feels different this time.”

“Different how?”

“Als … if you had tapped into her thoughts and there
was
something else, you would tell me, right?”

Alex gave her twin a look. “I told you. I did not listen to her thoughts. And you know exactly why. We’re not supposed to use our powers to eavesdrop —”

“Or pick up gossip, or even soothe hurt friends. That’s not what they’re for,” Cam finished Alex’s sentence. “I know.”

As the twins ambled through the mall, Alex softened.
“Look, you’re probably right. When Beth called this afternoon, what exactly did she say?”

Cam hit rewind. What Beth had said was, “I need to go to the mall. Come with?” When Cam had declined, Beth added urgently, “I really need to get out of the house.”

She had not asked Beth why.

CHAPTER THREE

A CRISIS ON COVENTRY ISLAND

From her lakeside bungalow on Conventry Island, the beautiful young witch Ileana sensed strife between the girls. Attuned to them, she knew when they were simply upset —
and
when they were in real danger. She’d certainly known them long enough.

Fifteen years ago, Ileana had been given responsibility for the infant twins, all but orphaned at birth. Their father, Aron, had been brutally slain by his brother, the evil warlock Thantos, and the twins’ mother had been disposed of, leaving the babies helpless and alone. The Unity Council, the ruling body of Coventry Island, had
named Ileana guardian as a way of instilling responsibility in the obstinate young witch. Perhaps not coincidentally, Ileana was an orphan herself.

But she’d been a teenager then, and her own guardian, Karsh, had helped her. Who was she kidding? Ileana chewed her fingernails and obsessively braided and unbraided her long flaxen hair. Boris, her orange tabby, regarded her suspiciously from his perch on the window seat. Lord Karsh had done all the work, knowing the infants had to be separated, or their evil uncle Thantos would deal them the same fate as their parents.

Karsh had found safe homes for them, protectors to bring them up. For the next fourteen years, while Ileana tended to herself, Karsh dutifully tracked them, subconsciously guided them as they grew. No one had tried to harm them, no evil forces had even found them.

Until the day they met and came to live together.

They became targets. The relentless Thantos would not give up until he got what he wanted. And he wanted the twins.

Ileana had been called to active duty, not only protecting and safeguarding the fledglings, but guiding them in the proper uses of their developing powers. At first Ileana had been resentful of the responsibility thrust upon her. But once she’d accepted it, she decided to excel at it. Be better than Karsh at it.

That grandiosity is exactly what led her into the mess she was in now.

The young witch was in deep trouble. And though she’d never show it, scared. Terrified, down to the tips of her Jimmy Choo sandals and furiously fuschia pedicured toenails. A fear that was as paralyzing as it was foreign. She hated it.

But what she hated more was the creeping suspicion that her own stubborn willfulness was at the rotten root of it. Ileana had never been one to doubt herself. But this time, she had a sinking feeling that she had gone too far. That her own burning need to be brilliant, to show off, to be best and first, coupled with her impatience, was a potent and poisonous mix. Toxic enough, possibly, to doom the one person she loved and needed most.

Karsh was missing. The ancient tracker, her guardian, protector, and teacher; the man who’d been both father and mother to her — the safety net who was always there, no matter how much she misbehaved — was gone.

Kidnapped.

Exactly when he had been taken, Ileana didn’t know. She’d been busy, how could she know? After bailing the impetuous twins, Apolla and Artemis — Camryn and Alexandra, as they were now known — out of their latest misadventure, she’d had serious catching up to do.
Corresponding via e-mail with Brice Stanley, the movie star she now knew to be a warlock; tending to her fabulous herb garden; pouring over the latest style magazines and catalogs that had piled up in her absence; and maybe a little crowing to the other witches in her circle.

She’d earned bragging rights for her latest escapade, bringing a suspected criminal to face the Unity Council. Why shouldn’t everyone on Coventry Island know it? Okay, so she’d been a little self-absorbed, what was the harm in that? Hence, it was possible that a week, maybe more, had gone by before she realized she hadn’t seen Karsh. But the idea that Lord Karsh, esteemed and respected, canny, learned, brilliant — but also slowed and bent by age — was in trouble would never have crossed her seamless brow.

Then the e-mails started arriving.

“We have him,”
the first one said.

“Who are you, and who’ve you got?”
she typed back, annoyed at the random IM that had broken into her real-time cyberchat with Brice.

“You know the answers, Ileana,”
came the response.

So they knew her name. She would not panic. Even though her e-mail address did not include any elements of her name. She canceled the bothersome IM.

Then the next one came.

He has a message for you: his compliments on
your most recent transmutation. But for some reason, he insists on calling you “grumpy goddess.” We surely don’t know why, but you probably do.

Only one person would be proud of her transmutation. The same person who
affectionately
called her “grumpy goddess.” Karsh.

Frantically, she’d tried to summon her aged mentor. He didn’t respond to her phone calls or telepathic messages. She’d even trekked across the heavily wooded island to the old man’s cabin. Finding it empty, she’d tracked down his cronies, Exalted Elders like Lord Grivveniss, Lady Iolande, the Lords Persiphus and Gordian, casually inquiring whether they’d seen him lately. No one had. Not wanting to alarm them, she’d breezily announced, “Then he must still be on the mainland. I’ll find him there.”

When she’d returned, another e-mail was waiting:
His wrists are bound, his legs caught in chains. He can cast no spell to free himself; he is powerless against us. Only you can help him, brave and imperious Ileana!

To which she’d furiously typed,
What do you want from me?

Instantly, the message came back:
Come and get him. If you dare!

Okay, I’ll play
, she’d gamely responded.
Where are you holding him?

Surely the brilliant Ileana can figure it out. P.S.: Make it fast.

And then, an addendum:
He won’t last long.

Picturing her beloved guardian in pain terrified her. Karsh was a master of the craft — still, even he would be no match for those who had him. The messages were unsigned, but she knew who they were from.

Lord Thantos, that brutal murderer — her sworn enemy — and no doubt, his skanky messenger, the despicable Fredo.

It was to the last one that she owed the mess she was in now.

She paced her lushly carpeted bungalow by the lake, trying to piece everything together. Surely, a brilliant solution would come to her. But every time she mentally finished the puzzle, the picture was the same. She’d messed up. Big time.

Only a few weeks ago, Fredo had tried to capture Apolla and Artemis. She’d come to the rescue, picked him up by his scruffy neck, and flown him back to Coventry Island.

“I’m a remarkable goddess,” she’d bragged to Karsh. “Even Lady Rhianna was impressed. I dropped Fredo on the Council’s doorstep. They’d been trying to get him for years — as an accessory to something or other.”

Karsh had asked, “Did Lady Rhianna explain his crime?”

Haughtily, Ileana had responded, “Did I care? I was so eager to rid myself of that putrid package, I just left him with her….”

Ping! That
was the moment. She’d left him with a single Elder alone. And broken the rules. “A suspected criminal, when brought in, is not to be left with fewer than three Elders in attendance.” She should have waited until Lady Potato (as Ileana called her) had summoned two more.

Instead, Ileana had impatiently flown away, carried on the wings of egotism.

And Fredo had escaped.

Now, the cowardly lyin’ warlock and his mastermind had Karsh.

The trap had been set. They knew she would try to rescue her beloved mentor. They knew she’d be alone, too proud to ask for help. They believed, tripping on her own conceit, she would fail trying.

Karsh and Ileana would be out of the way.

Leaving them a clear path to capture the twins.

They knew Ileana would come, all right. The only question was “How soon?”