Wicked Sense Read online

  “What?” he asks, half-smiling himself.

  I assume a serious expression. “Nothing,” I reply. “I think you may be right. Drugging you sounds like something Jane would do.”

  “I know, right?” He seems overly satisfied with my acceptance.

  “What now?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Is there any way I can go to the police to accuse Jane? Can you think of an explanation that doesn’t involve witchcraft?”

  “We could think of something, but I’m afraid that Jane, if cornered, could bring up the subject. Maybe just to murk things up, maybe to damage our culture. The police wouldn’t believe her, but word would be out and damage would be done.”

  He shakes his head. “How have you managed to keep this secret for so long?”

  “We’re a tight-knit community. We have rules and safeguards.” I don’t mention a few well-positioned friends in government and media. “The Veil is essential to us.”

  “What are you doing here in Seattle? Did you come after your ex?” he asks nonchalantly, but his eyes betray his concern.

  I can’t make him trust me by telling half-truths. I spend the next half hour telling him about the Singularity.

  He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s more like the kind of witch I’ve heard about.”

  I need to show him the Veil’s importance across one more time. “Do you see how she’s a big liability to people who want to remain hidden? That’s not all. If somebody discovers the existence of the Singularity, there will be a witch hunt. They’ll come for me and everyone I know.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  I shrug. “I just know.”

  “How sure are you?”

  “Eighty-two percent?” I say, reciting the number the scholars told us.

  He chuckles and asks, “Where does Jane fit into this?”

  “Jane is a free agent. Doesn’t seem to belong to a coven. Nobody controls her.”

  “I’ll say,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “But aren’t you worried about Jane? What if she attacks you again? What’s your mother going to say?”

  There we go. Okay, no more secrets.

  I tell him about my mother, her career. He blushes. “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing…”

  “Tell me!”

  He rubs the back of his head. “It’s just that… I saw your mother naked in a movie once.”

  He and half of the world. Yep, that’s Mum.

  Drake is mortified, but I have other concerns. He listens while I tell him about the publicity it would attract if Katherine Lexington-Ellis’s daughter walked into a police station.

  “Couldn’t the cops keep it quiet? Or the press?” he offers.

  “You don’t know your own country very well, do you? And you certainly don’t know England. I don’t want my face on the TMZ website or on The Sun’s front page.”

  He shrinks a little. No doubt he’s realizing the implications of dating the daughter of a celebrity.

  Did I just use the word “dating”?

  “What’s next, then?” It’s his turn to ask.

  “We go to school as if nothing happened,” I say.

  “Skye, she tried to kill you!” He stands up. “There’s blood all over the pool building!”

  “Nobody saw us. The school doesn’t know about it, or your dad’s phone would be ringing,” I argue.

  “That’s not what I meant. A person you see every day wants you dead.” He opens his arms wide. “If we don’t do something, tell someone, she’ll try again. Aren’t you worried at all?”

  I tug on his shirt, pulling him to sit down on the bench again. A couple of joggers were looking at us. “Of course I’m worried,” I whisper. “But you’ll protect me, won’t you?” I can’t suppress a giggle.

  “Come on, Skye…”

  “Okay, okay. You and I are going to be more careful. I’ll perform the strongest rituals I know to protect us every morning. We can also drink potions to ward off any spells against us,” I say, pretending I don’t see his eyes rolling.

  “Are they FDA-approved?”

  “And we’ll do something about it,” I say. “Are you with me?” I add, staring at him suggestively.

  Skye, you flirty little devil.

  “You have to ask?” he says.

  Is it wrong that I’m finding this so much fun?

  Chapter 29: Drake

  She’s a cipher. Well, getting mixed signals from a woman puts me in the company of three and half billion men. It’s a small solace.

  Of all we discussed today, including witchcraft and Hollywood, what strikes me the most is what we didn’t mention: our… situation.

  I expected that, with all the things going on right now, dating would be the last thing on my mind. I was dead wrong.

  My head is spinning at the prospect of having her back. Well, not having her back, because I never had her in the first place.

  Still, as we leave the downtown park, I glance at her, and she seems different. Even with the gathering of gray clouds above us, she looks sunny. A sunny witch.

  I don’t care if she’s delusional, or if she’s maybe dragging me into her madness. Right now, I don’t need to make a decision about believing her or not. I can just go with it. I have plenty of evidence (the potions, the rituals, Jane and Skye’s behavior) that she’s telling the truth. On the other hand, there’s also evidence (everything else in the world) that she’s a lunatic.

  It doesn’t worry me. Even if this is madness, I want to be part of it.

  Chapter 30: Skye

  I know I’m probably not behaving like an attempted-murder victim should. But Jane’s attack awakened something inside me.

  And the conversation with Drake made everything clear.

  I had no purpose in life. I was a spoiled princess. Beautiful, rich, witch. Have I ever actually done something useful? Helped someone? Volunteered somewhere? Goddess, I don’t even do things for me.

  Besides the Craft, I have no hobbies, no interests, no passion. I spend time reading or fiddling with my playlists. But now I know what to do. I’ll find the Singularity and hit back at Jane.

  ***

  I don’t want to, but I have to face Connor. I need the information.

  I’m finally living up to the motto I chose when I moved to Seattle: I won’t feel sorry for myself.

  Drake doesn’t say anything when I ask him to drop me off at UW, I mean, U-Dub on the way home. I told him Connor attends the university.

  When we’re close to the parking lot, Drake says he’ll wait for me in the car. Since I want separation between him and Connor, I tell him no. But he won’t budge.

  “What if Jane is waiting for you there? She knows him,” he argues.

  “I can sense her, remember?”

  He shakes his head. “Well, can’t she do something from a distance? Like shoot you?”

  I’m just too tired to argue. He tells me he’ll be reading a book in the car. He takes my brand new cell phone from my hands, the one we got this morning at the store, and adds his new number to my speed dial.

  “Don’t let it get wet,” he tells me.

  A light drizzle falls. I march down Memorial Way again. The first time I did it, I was so scared. Now I feed off the energy of the trees, the powerful buildings, the people.

  The familiar tingling starts. It’s a good sensation. I like to follow it, feel it diminishing, backtracking, and picking up its trail again. The True Sight leads me to the Suzzallo Library building. I walk up the imposing staircase. On the second floor, I sense it. Stronger.

  Navigating the aisles, I feel like the books embrace me. I crisscross the rows until I zero in on him.

  He’s being smothered by a redhead in jeans and high heels. It’s a long, slobbery, kiss. They’re very much into it, their hands reaching places. That’s probably why Connor hasn’t sensed my presence yet.

  As I’m about to clear my throat and help them avoid a public indecency charge, an idea comes to me. There are m
ore entertaining ways of doing it.

  “Connor!” I yell. My cry shatters the library’s stillness.

  They disentangle, startled.

  “How could you?” I continue, still loud. Someone on another aisle tries to shush me. “You leave me and the twins at home to suck face with this skank?”

  The shushes die. The redhead looks at him. A couple of students stare.

  “Skye, I—”

  I don’t let him speak. “That’s why I slave every night, waitressing? Paying your tuition? And you’re here, still using that fake British accent to pick up girls!”

  He shakes his head. The girl is now mad at him, not even caring about me calling her a name. More people gather around us.

  “The twins don’t have shoes! And you know there’s one more on the way,” I say, touching my belly, adding a slight hint of quivering to my voice.

  The girl slaps him. Hard. And struts away. She stops by my side to say something to me, but I close my eyes and raise my hand to silence her. She just leaves.

  Mum has an Oscar, you know.

  Connor pleads, whispering, “Can we take this somewhere else?”

  My hands cover my eyes (because I don’t know how to cry on cue), but I nod. The crowd disperses.

  After we leave the library, I start to laugh. Connor puts his hands on both sides of his head and looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. I can’t stop laughing. Maybe it’s a release from all the tension of the last couple of days.

  He takes my arm and leads me away from people.

  When I calm down, we stop. The rain is picking up, but we don’t care. He asks me, “Was that really necessary?”

  I take a deep breath and stare into his eyes. No more fun and games.

  “I died yesterday,” I say. “Jane killed me.”

  “What?”

  “She tried to drown me, but I was resuscitated,” I say, my voice icy.

  “How?” he asks. “Why?”

  “I’m okay, by the way. Except for the scar.” I lift my hair so he can see the wound, but he barely glances at it.

  “What’s going on?” he asks me.

  “You tell me. You had to go ahead and shag her, didn’t you?”

  He takes a step back. Not a good day to be Connor, I have to admit.

  “Is that what this is all about?”

  “No, you bloody git! She tried to kill me! Are you deaf?” I’m mad now, as my falling back to British idioms clearly shows. I revert to my British accent too.

  He opens his arms in an apologetic gesture. “She can be quite dodgy, but violent? I just don’t understand,” he says. What a leader the Mothers picked. I guess looks aren’t everything.

  I sigh. “Just tell me what went down between you two.”

  He does that lame duck routine, standing on one foot and scratching his head. He points somewhere and says, “Shall we get a—”

  “Yeah, yeah, go get your coffee,” I interrupt him, making a dismissive gesture.

  After a moment, I follow him and order tea and milk. Connor and I walk around the campus, until we find a seat outside in a covered area. The tea is a nice defense against the chilly wind. Sometimes a student passes by, but we’re not so concerned about the Veil today.

  “I’m going to give you the short version, okay?” He shoots me an expectant look. When I say nothing, he looks away, and goes on, “When I arrived I had to organize the operation, visit all schools, assign a Sister to each high school, and train them. In a few of the schools, I felt the presence of Sisters; one of them was Jane.”

  He sips his venti-whatever-whatever-mocha. “All the other Sisters here belong to covens. Our coven in London contacted them, and we all agreed to collaborate. But Jane is a free-lancer. The local covens didn’t have information on her. So I got close and asked if she’d join us. She agreed at first, but she was always asking questions. We ended up getting involved.” He glances at me while taking another sip. “You know her.”

  “I know you,” I say.

  “Touché,” he says. “Sorry to say that, but she is very persuasive. And she’s into strange things.”

  Is he serious? “I really don’t need the details,” I say.

  “No, I mean, her Craft. She’s into weird stuff. She’s much more willing to sacrifice animals for divination, for instance. And her morning rituals are creepy. Once she—”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Morning rituals?”

  He just looks away again. “Goddess, Skye. I don’t know what you want from me. Either we’re adults, and I’m telling what you asked me, or we’re in this jealousy game.”

  “Sod off, Connor! You’re always twisting things so I look guilty. I want to know what happened, but I’m a person too, you know? You can tell me things and be considerate.”

  “All right, then. After I told her some things about the Singularity, we broke up. She said she’d keep an eye on things, but she was always vague, noncommittal. That’s when I asked the London Mothers to send someone else to cover Greenwood High.”

  “What else are you not telling me?”

  He sighs. “Okay, you need to know that too. I just put the pieces together. I mean, if she really attacked you. It all makes sense. Jane’s weird craft, her habits, her… demeanor.” He stares at me. “Now I think she may be a Night witch.”

  Uh-oh. My contempt for him is gone, replaced by concern. “She does Night magic?”

  “Very likely. Not only that, but you can’t master Night magic alone. She must know other Night Sisters, maybe even a Night coven.”

  This changes things. Night magic is rare. I knew it existed; I just have never faced it. Connor’s parents are Craft scholars, though. He knows what he’s talking about.

  Connor continues, “You know how we always say the Singularity’s Daybreak happened on the West Coast? Well, some Oxford Sisters put their minds together and triangulated the reports, based on the intensity and distance, and figured out the most probable area—”

  “Seattle. Green Lake neighborhood. I suspected that.”

  “Yes,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically weak.

  “And Jane knows it.”

  Connor looks down and nods.

  “The most probable location, Skye,” he says, “Think about it. That’s why the Mothers sent you here. Your True Sight Charm is rarer than you think. If they are right about the location, you are supposed to find her. You.”

  I hunch without realizing it. It’s as if I can feel the crushing responsibility on me. Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t. I’ve been walking the school, the streets. I don’t sense anything besides Jane. Are you sure it’s not her?”

  Connor stares at me. “She isn’t. Trust me.” he says, his tone full of authority now. “We feel her energy. The Singularity’s energy is probably off the charts, remember? Besides, if Jane had all that power, she wouldn’t be in school, especially not with me and you snooping around.”

  “But then,” I say, “why would she try to kill me if she’s not the Singularity? Couldn’t she be trying to protect herself?”

  “Think, Skye,” Connor whispers. “Yes, she probably went after you because you’re searching in her turf. But it doesn’t mean she’s it. It just means she wants to find the Singularity before we do. Imagine if she can turn the Singularity into a Night Sister. We have got to find the Singularity before Jane.”

  Chapter 31: Drake

  She comes back from the meeting with her ex. She’s soaking wet, but neither of us bothers with the damage to the Volvo’s upholstering. I hand her one of my towels from the gym bag. She takes her time.

  “Jane wants to find the Singularity before we do,” she finally volunteers. I don’t know if the “we” means me and her, or her ex and her. Maybe it means all of us.

  “That’s not all. Jane’s a Night witch,” she adds.

  “I’m assuming this is bad,” I say.

  Skye uses a knowledgeable tone to describe, well, the idea I used to have about witches. “Night magic dea
ls with the horrible stuff: sacrifices, destructive spells, blood magic. It’s banned by the established covens. Their potions and spells are more powerful too. If Night witches get hold of the Singularity… If they get hold of all her power, they’ll be tempted to use it against other Sisters,” she says. “And non-magical folks. They might not even care about the Veil anymore, and that would harm all of us.”

  I’m somewhat glad she’s all business. All the catastrophic scenarios I ran in my head when she was alone with Mr. Darcy are washed away. She came back. To me.

  God, she looks gorgeous. The cold makes her tremble a bit, spreading goose bumps over her arms and neck. She wipes her face with the towel; while she can’t see me, I can’t help but notice how her wet clothes cling to her body.

  I move her hand and the towel away from her face. She looks at me, but says nothing. My hand slides up her arm until it stops on her shoulder. I lean over slightly; her eyes flicker to my mouth.

  Our lips touch, hers cold and tempting. My hands will themselves to cradle her neck gently, my fingers entangled in her wet hair. I love the chilly, soft texture of her skin, her faint jasmine scent. My passion grows, and she responds. We search for each other in an intense kiss.

  Her arms embrace me, and we twist as a single entity, our upper bodies connected. I feel her wet clothes against mine, her breasts heaving slightly with her respiration. We meld. Our mouths search for each other and our minds travel to another dimension.

  ***

  We move away from each other simultaneously in a slow, unwilling withdrawal. It’s a bittersweet moment, coming back to reality.

  However, these few seconds afterward, when we stare into each other’s eyes and acknowledge our desire, are the sexiest of my life. By far.

  She breaks the silence, and the magic is gone. “Your body is so warm,” she says, the hoarse quality of her voice taunting me.

  “Are you trying to say I’m hot?”

  She giggles. It’s not a girly giggle, not with her voice. Somehow, that’s even more enticing.

  “You know, you could catch pneumonia. I don’t want to go to the hospital again. We probably should get you out of these wet clothes,” I say, grinning.