T*Witches: Building a Mystery (8 page)

Miranda glanced out at the fading moon. Pale and full, it lingered in the morning sky. Already, the new day shone through the window. Its golden rays lit the tiny, perfect infants she held in her arms.

The first born, Artemis, stirred restlessly against her, while her sister, Apolla, but a few minutes old, slept deeply and contentedly.

Sitting beside them was their father, Aron. In his strong hands he held the magnificent necklaces he had fashioned for them, hammering delicate gold into sun and moon. For it had been foretold that their birth would bridge the day and night.

Miranda was already wearing the wondrous necklace her husband had made for her. Its pendant was a perfect circle composed of sun and moon. It cleverly matched the two amulets, the sacred charms he'd created for their children, which fit together into a perfect sphere.

Weary, Miranda closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, aware of the fragile, warm weight of the newborns in her arms and of her husband's joy and wonder.

"Aron." There was a knock at the cottage door. "I need a word with you."

"Thantos?" Aron rose, smiling. "Come in, brother. Come see your nieces...
Uncle
Thantos," he added, chuckling.

"I am not alone," came the gruff reply. "And who is with me, you would not have in your home. Come out, then, come to us."

Aron went to the window. It had been clear a moment ago, its heavy shutters thrown open. Now the glass was webbed with dense, icy frost. He shook his head. What was this? Another of Thantos's tricks? His brother had been dabbling in strange magick lately.

Aron strained to see through the door. Impossible. And his own fault. He had used the precise materials and cast the proper spells to ensure the house's privacy. Not even his legendary senses—his impossibly sharp sight, hearing, sense of smell, taste, touch—could penetrate the walls.

He could feel the blinding pain, the fierce headache that came with pushing his powers to the limit, and still he could make out nothing but Thantos's shadowy bulk.

Miranda shivered. "Wait, wait," she called out in her sleep.

Aron, too, felt a sudden draft. He drew on his warmest cloak, woven by Miranda from the wool of their favorite lambs. Then he covered his beloved wife with the absurdly large quilt she had made for their babies. It smelled wonderfully of the flowers she'd used to dye the pieces and the magical herbs with which she'd filled each lovely panel.

Again she moved restlessly. And flailing Artemis stretched out her tiny fist to him. "I'll be back, my darlings," Aron promised, starting for the door.

Just as he reached the handle, Apolla awoke with a cry. On impulse, Aron hurried back to them. He slipped their amulets, on, kissed Miranda and each of his daughters, and, with a heavy, incomprehensible sorrow, left them.

Forever.

Some time later, Karsh entered the cottage. He used the key Lord Aron had entrusted to him. Bowed by grief, Karsh sighed miserably as he saw the still-sleeping Miranda.

Something stirred beneath her quilt; some creature squirmed in the crook of her arm. Karsh stared, amazed, as a tiny clenched hand, no bigger than an acorn, emerged from beneath the coverlet.

Holding his breath, the old tracker tiptoed to the couch. There he saw the babies. One of them, the one who'd shaken a miniature fist at him, wriggled fretfully in her sleep; the other one was wide-awake but silent, calm, content.

Karsh hurried back to the door. "Come, young witch. Hurry. Miranda has had her babies," he called.

"I don't want to be a witch," the sullen teenager, his ward and protégée replied. "Witches are ugly and have warts and wretched hair—"

"You read far too many mainland magazines, Ileana," Karsh gently scolded her. "Come, child, it is an inspiring sight on such an evil day."

Flinging back her long, silky hair, Ileana reluctantly entered the cottage. Her beautiful face was pale and tense from the ugliness she had just witnessed. There were angry tears in her striking gray eyes—eyes the same color as Aron's had been. And in her delicate hands she carried the handsome lamb's-wool robe Lord Aron had been wearing. It was sticky, still wet with blood.

Ileana, sixteen years old, about to turn seventeen, quietly crossed the room. Karsh realized the girl was shaking. He reached to put an arm about her but she shrugged him away. "I am perfectly fine, old warlock. I don't need comforting," she announced.

Prideful, like her abandoning father, Karsh thought. And yet he adored the child. For in addition to her arrogance, Ileana had an unquenchable curiosity that kept her humble—whether she liked it or not. There was nothing in the world of witches and warlocks or, for that matter, in all the vast mainland that she did not want to know, experience, experiment with, and improve. She was an avid and demanding pupil. And Karsh enjoyed nothing better than teaching young fledglings how to sharpen and use their skills.

Still clutching the bloody cloak, Ileana bent down to examine Artemis. The infant's weaving hands caught hold of the teenager's hair and tugged at it with awesome force. Delighted as she was surprised, Ileana cried out.

At last, Miranda awoke—startling Apolla, whose little wrist was twisted in her golden necklace.

Ileana untangled the chain. "Oh, but this one is exquisite, too," she remarked.

"My daughters," Miranda smiled sleepily. "Do they not resemble their father's illustrious family?" She noticed the robe then. Caught the scent of wool first. The wool and something else. Something overpowering and bitter. "Aron?" she exclaimed, then saw the blood.

Miranda began to thrash. She ripped her husband's cloak from Ileana's hands and buried her face in it.

Quickly, Karsh rescued the babies. He handed them to Ileana and put his arms around their grief-stricken mother. He rocked her as she screamed in horror. He held her thrashing head against his chest and crooned comfortingly to her even when, in an effort to silence her own earsplitting screams, she sank her teeth into his shoulder.

Finally, she wore herself out and grew quiet, shuddering and trembling.

Ileana took the newborn twins outside, while Karsh rinsed Aron's blood from Miranda's face and hair. "Tell me, Miranda, when did he leave and why?" the white-haired old warlock asked.

"Thantos came," she answered dully. Karsh nodded and tenderly wiped her cheeks, her closed eyes. She had stopped crying. And shivering. She had, in fact, stopped everything but rocking back and forth. "Thantos called him. Aron asked him in, but Thantos would not enter. Aron left to speak to his brother—"

Pacing just outside the door, Ileana heard. She held the babies tightly, muttering under her breath. Lord Thantos, Aron's own brother, had murdered their father. Had left them fatherless, just as she had been left... Ah, but these two still had a mother. The magnificent and powerful Miranda. Who called out suddenly:

"My babies? Karsh, where are my babies?!"

Ileana returned to the couch. "Here, Lady Miranda. Here are the little ones. They're well. And I'll keep them that way—for as long as you wish. No one will hurt them, great lady. No one. Ever!"

Miranda did not look at her daughters. Instead, she studied Ileana's face, strangely, her eyes drifting unfocused over every feature as if trying but failing to memorize it. "Who are you?" she asked in the barest whisper.

"Ileana," Ileana replied. "I am Lord Karsh's ward—"

"I know you. I know your father. Please do not harm my children. Please, I beg you!"

"David?" There was a gentle knock at the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but dinner is ready. Perhaps your client would like to join us?"

"It's Emily," David told the old man. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how late it's gotten. Can you stay?"

"Oh, please, say yes," Cam urged him. "You can't leave now."

"She's a terrific cook," Alex promised. Cam raised an eyebrow at her. "I didn't say she was the Mother of the Year," her twin grumbled.

"My goodness," Karsh said, "it's nearly dark outside. Ileana will be furious with me. She's waiting to take me home—"

"Ileana, your partner?" Cam asked. "Is she the same one who saved us when we were little?"

Karsh nodded. "From that terrible day forward, she's been pledged to guide and protect you." He stood slowly and began gathering some old documents from Dave's desk. "You mustn't make her work so difficult." He chuckled.

"Difficult?" Cam echoed, then clapped a hand over her mouth, as Emily asked through the door, "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Give us a minute, Em." Dave looked at Karsh, who shook his head. "I'm afraid my client won't be joining us," he said, "but we'll be out soon."

Cam jumped up. "But you can't—" she began.

"Leave you?" Karsh shook his head. "Never—so long as I have life left. I made that promise long ago." He glanced at Dave, as if asking his permission to go on, and Dave understood and nodded. "I made that promise to your dying father—"

"And to our mother?" Cam wanted to know.

"Yes," the old warlock said sadly. "Though I was never sure that she heard me."

"Well, where is she then?" Alex demanded. "And where has she been all these years?"

Karsh continued to sort through the documents. When he didn't answer Alex's question, Cam threw another one at him. "Will we be able to contact you when we need you? I mean, do we go through Dave, or what?"

Dave shook his head. "I have no way of reaching him," he said quietly.

"Regretfully," Karsh confirmed, "there is no way." He turned to Dave. "I've left you the birth and death certificates. And filled in, to the best of my knowledge, the other information you requested—"

"Where is she?!" Alex repeated. "And why should we believe you? Why should we believe anything you say?"

Finally, the old man looked at her. "I'm sorry, Artemis. Alexandra. Which do you prefer?"

"Alexandra," Alex said definitely.

Karsh nodded. "I know how deeply you miss Sara. I know how devoted you were to each other. Like David, Sara had excellent instincts and intuitions. Far greater than the average person. Her senses were finely honed, though nothing compared to yours and your sister's. You are both already far advanced as seers and healers. Even in infancy, it was clear that you were as extraordinary as had been predicted. At some other time and place, perhaps Sara might have developed her own skills and gone beyond being an adept. In time, she might have become a guardian. But she chose, as did David, to be a protector, to use all of her gifts to guide and guard a more skilled fledgling—"

"Fledgling. There's that dumb word again," Alex cut him off. "We're not baby birds. We're human—"

"Or are we?" Cam whispered.

"Indeed you are," Karsh assured them. "All too human. Did you imagine that witches and warlocks were a race apart? So many of limited vision and shriveled spirits have thought that way," Karsh said, surprising Cam and Alex with a note of pained bitterness.

He cleared his throat. His voice, however, never sounded clear, but grating and, more often recently, weak. "We are human beings—all of us. Even," Karsh couldn't help adding with a grin, "that inept but goodhearted son of yours, David. Dylan. The boy has possibilities."

"I hope not," Dave joked. "Two teen witches are quite enough."

"Are we witches, then?" Cam wanted to know. "Really?"

"It's what they call us nowadays," Karsh answered. "But there have been people like us through the ages. Seers, sages, shamans, sibyls. Those whom others depended upon for wisdom, healing, help. And we of the Coventry clan carry on that tradition. We have chosen, like Sara and David and thousands of others, to use our unique abilities to serve and protect those in need."

Someone began to clap—slowly and rudely. Cam and Alex heard it, though Dave seemed not to. "For goodness' sake, Karsh, get over yourself. Say good night, good-bye. Thanks for the dinner invite. Gotta go!"

"Ileana!" Cam identified the voice.

"You go, girl." Alex laughed unexpectedly.

Karsh winked at them. "Catch ya later," he said, taking David's arm. "If you'll just see me to the door."

"BTW, girlfriends," Ileana said, her presence a gust of pine-perfumed air passing their faces. "Call me Goddess."

The next day, it all seemed like a dream to Cam. Her mother was not Emily or Sara. Her mother was a beautiful witch named Miranda.

For Alex, it was more like a nightmare. Sara was dead. Sara was not her mother. And whoever this Miranda was, she'd been willing to give her children away.

Emily pulled into the mall parking lot. "Are you sure you want to take the bus home?" she asked as the girls tumbled out of the car.

"Well, actually," Cam began.

Alex stepped in front of her and leaned in the front window. "No probs, Em. Nice of you to give us a lift, but mass trans works for us."

"Or maybe Beth's folks will give us a ride," Cam added hopefully. "We're meeting her at Banana."

"Banana Republican. Yeah, we can catch a lift with the Sharks," Alex said.

Emily looked dubious but shrugged and called, "Well, all right. Have fun, then," and drove off.

"It's Fish," Cam said irritably as they walked into Lord & Taylor, cutting through the menswear aisles.

"What's fish?" Alex played innocent, shouldering her way through cashmere jackets.

"Beth's last name. It's Beth Fish, not Beth Shark. And what's this sudden passion of yours for public transportation?"

"If you don't use it, you lose it," Alex said, following Cam up the escalator. "And since we're such public-minded citizens now—I mean, here to serve and protect our fellow beings—I'm for preserving mass transit."

"He wasn't kidding," Cam snarled, turning at the top of the escalator. "You are a witch. And pardon me for barging into your secret thoughts again, but what does Cade Richman have to do with this?"

"I'm going to meet him at the food court in fifteen minutes," Alex said, stepping off the moving staircase and brushing past Cam.

"And that would be because you're absolutely sure he's not Thantos's messenger?" Cam called, hurrying after her twin.

"If he is—" Alex pushed open the door to the mall and held it for Cam. "Then Thantos sure knows how to lure me."

"You think this is a joke, don't you?" Cam demanded.

"A girl can hope, can't she? And anyway, Apolla," Alex croaked, trying to imitate Karsh's voice, "maybe you believe that fairy tale he told us last night, but I've got serious doubts. Like for instance, how come your old man's wheezing white-haired client never even answered Dave's first question? He never told us why we were separated. Why my moms and Dave never knew we were twins—"

"It's pretty obvious why," Cam said, rushing past the cart where crystals were sold, glancing disinterestedly at the accessories shop. "Thantos—that overgrown bearded bozo who killed our father. For whatever reason, he wants to kill us, too. Both of us. Together."

"Well, then, why didn't he? He found us before. Twice—"

"Because Karsh and Ileana showed up."

"And now, supposedly,
Uncle
Thantos has sent some messenger to get us. And we're supposed to figure out who it is and not get caught. If Ileana can be disguised as a cop or a waitress or anything she wants to be, then so can the messenger probably. I mean, it's like beware of everyone."

Cam saw Beth waiting in front of Banana Republic. She waved to her best.

"If you are a girl," Alex added, trying to make her voice all spooky. "And not some tall, kinky-haired clone from the evil side of the Coventry clan."

Beth said frostily. "Ugh, don't look now but there's a felon behind you."

Of course Alex turned. As did Cam. "Eddie Robins," she said. "I thought he was in juvie hall."

"Well, somebody must've bailed him out," Alex mused. She had a bad feeling about that.

"Don't look at him," Beth whispered. "He might come over—"

"Yo, Edgar! Whassup?" Alex called out.

The beefy boy glared at them. "You think you're real funny, don't you?" he said, stomping toward them ominously. Beth grabbed Cam's hand and took a step back.

Alex, don't mess with him,
Cam silently ordered her sister.
Can't you feel it? He's in a world of pain.

"I wasn't jiving you. I really want to know what's up. Like who put up your bail—Cade?"

"Where'd you hear that?" Eddie stuck out his chin belligerently. "What's he, like, braggin' all over town?"

"Just a hunch," Alex said.

"I don't' know if it was him. My old man won't tell me. He just said one of the kids I go to school with gave him the dough."

"What makes you think it was Cade, Alex?" Beth asked in a hushed tone. "I mean, didn't Eddie break into his house—"

"Didn't need to break in," Eddie announced, rubbing his shaved head. "I had the gate key. Leastways, my dad did, and I just went over there to pick up the lighter he dropped. Got it from my older brother, one that was killed in the Gulf. Patio door was open. So I went in. I was just looking around inside. I figured I could always say I thought maybe Mr. Richman found the lighter, mighta left it on a table or something—"

"And the alarm went off," Cam said.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you was the witch sisters. What else you think you know?"

"The police found your footprints in the house," Beth blurted. Then gasped at her own audacity. "That's what I heard."

"Yeah, and that money was missing. Lots of it, right? Well I didn't' take it," Eddie snarled.

"Then who do you think robbed the place?" Beth asked bravely.

"Maybe Cade's nutso sister. I don't' know. But it wasn't me—even though nobody's going to buy that!"

Cam looked at Alex, then said to Eddie, "I buy it. I don't think you did it."

"Me, too," Alex said softly. "I don't think it was you."

Eddie's threatening glare softened slightly. But his voice stayed menacing. "Oh, you don't, huh? Hey, well, I'm home free then, right? I mean, with a couple of witches on my side! Ha-ha-ha!"

"That was so weird," Beth commented as the bully scuttled away.

"Cade's nutso sister," Cam said aloud.

Alex nodded. "At first I thought the screams were from the kid's mom—the little boy, who was run over—"

"But they came from inside the car, didn't they? The laughing girl started screaming—"

Beth had been watching them, listening, trying to keep up. Finally, restless and confused, she scanned the mall. "Uh-oh, speaking of nutso. Here comes Velcro-girl."

"Oh, wow." Before they knew it, Madison was on them like white on rice. "O.M.G., I was totally just thinking about you. I cannot believe you forgot to tell me about the party! I've got, like, the best costume, too. I heard Amanda and Sukari talking about it. A sleepover, right? I just knew you forgot to invite me. Hey, like, don't be embarrassed. No big. Just give me the stats—time, place, et cetera—and I'll be there. Wait. Never mind. I'll get the details on Monday, okay?"

Cam stared after her, openmouthed.
Have you ever been able to read that girl?
she silently asked her win.

No, and I don't like her,
Alex answered.
Madison's thoughts, they're blank, dark, a jumble.