Wicked Sense Page 3

  “Why would the Mothers send me here then?”

  “Maybe they don’t know about her.” She shrugs. “Connor would, though.”

  Argh, Connor. Golden boy, from one of the oldest magic families. The rare male witch, what people call a warlock, but nobody I know uses this term. He’s a male witch.

  He’s also my former boyfriend.

  My silence doesn’t deter Aunt Gemma. “Don’t be gloomy; you knew you’d have to talk to him. He’s the Seattle area overseer.” Gemma knows about my past with Connor. Gossip mills work as well in the witch circles as in any high school.

  “It’s ridiculous they chose a male witch for this position,” I say, out of spite.

  “He’s almost royalty, you know that,” Gemma says. She pauses to munch on a Milano mint. “Besides, he’s not your regular witch.” She points the biscuit at me.

  “No, he’s a world class jerk,” I say. Bitter much?

  Gemma shakes her head. “Now, if you don’t want me to pry, why do you say such things? What happened between you two?”

  I say nothing. She sighs. “Are you going to meet him?”

  “I’ll find him. He’s at University of Washington, right? Philosophy, Savery Hall.”

  Gemma giggles. “People here call it U-Dub, Skye. You want to sound like a local, right?”

  Now I’m taking hip lessons from someone forty years older than me. “Thanks,” I say. She’s trying to help, after all. Besides, Aunt Gemma pretty much leaves me to myself, which I appreciate. She only asks that I don’t bring boys home. As if, as they say.

  I kiss her and leave.

  Walking around Greenwood makes me feel good. The neighborhood is filled with antique stores and thrift shops. This connection to the past somehow makes me more attuned with my personal magic. The open spaces and streets lined with trees don’t hurt either.

  I need some connection with nature. Aunt Gemma told me about some secluded Seattle parks and I have to check them out sometime. Our small backyard is no substitute for a large outdoor area. I haven’t performed a decent ritual since I arrived. Well, not counting the healing one I improvised for Drake.

  I’m almost at the bus stop when I remember. First, I’ll go to a store and get a phone. If anyone else tries to die in my arms, I’d like to be prepared.

  ***

  The bus drops me off a couple of blocks from “U-Dub.” I saw pictures of the university once before: they showed clear skies and blossoming cherry trees that revealed the spring glory of Seattle. No such scenes in the autumn. Now the only beauty is the palette on the trees and on the ground. Yellow, orange, red: the leaves in Seattle die a colorful death. I navigate the lawn and the elegant buildings until I find a directory. Resolute, I go down Memorial Way, expecting a stunning vista of Mount Rainier, but it’s hidden by clouds in the distance. Oh, well.

  I turn my attention to the students. Around my age, but somehow… adults. Or maybe it’s just my impression of them. Is college for me? I’m a blank canvas. I have so many interests, but nothing compels me. I’m not passionate about anything in particular. I feel disconnected even from my Sisterhood. Maybe I’m empty inside. Like Connor told me.

  Connor. The Mothers chose him for the search, granted. But I know he wouldn’t come here if he didn’t want to. He had a choice. He chose to leave me.

  What am I doing here? I could get hurt all by myself in London. I didn’t need to cross the pond to feel crushed.

  Yet here I am, looking for him. Well, I didn’t have a choice. The Mothers sent me here.

  I’d better find him. I try to concentrate on the magical energy—that faint signature that all magic users exude. Close to Savery Hall, I feel it. A prickling sensation all over my body. Strong. Unmistakable.

  There he is, looking around. No doubt he feels my energy too, now that I’m close. But I have the True Sight Charm; I can spot him before he spots me.

  When Connor sees I’m the source, though, he is stunned. He mumbles something to the three girls gathered around him. They giggle (probably his Allure Charm at work), but leave. He uses the time I take to walk over to him to recover. His pearly teeth show a big smile. Without my glasses, I can only wonder if his powerful purple aura still shines bright.

  “Skye! Of all the gin joints in all the towns…” His baritone voice tries to win me over. I bet his British accent, the same I worked so hard to lose, impresses the girls here.

  “Hello, Connor.”

  “What a surprise,” he says.

  Wait, what? Didn’t the Mothers tell him I was coming to help? That’s weird, but I don’t want to sound more confused than I already am, so I just say, “How’s the search?”

  Connor scans the people around, afraid somebody will eavesdrop on us. “Don’t break the Veil, Skye,” he whispers to me. “Come with me.” He reaches to grab my arm, but thinks better of it in mid-movement, and changes the gesture into a beckoning wave. Smart move, Connor.

  We walk for a while, silent, until he says, “This is the HUB. Let’s stop for coffee.”

  He asks for a long-named concoction. I observe him while he chats up the barista. He shows off his bulging arms. I wonder if he still rows.

  With his easy smile, perfect teeth, and amazingly soft and perfumed hair, he doesn’t even need the Allure Charm. He could flirt with you while he sleeps. I get a double espresso, to blend in. We walk around the campus, trying to avoid the students. We need privacy.

  When we’re far enough from prying ears, he says, “I knew they would send someone, but I never expected you.” He sips his coffee. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Did you ask to come?”

  “No!” I say. “I asked not to come. But it’s my duty.”

  Connor nods. “It actually makes sense. With your True Sight Charm, you can help us.” He’s right. My Charm not only detects magical energy from afar, it also detects traces of it.

  I face him, and he examines my eyes. “Hey, where are your glasses?” he asks.

  “Lost them,” I say. It’s so odd talking to him after two years. We didn’t part on friendly terms. Okay, that’s an understatement. We parted on horrible terms and never exchanged calls, texts, or emails since. However, here we are, all civilized. Inside, though, I’m a tornado of conflicting emotions.

  If he feels the same way, it doesn’t show. “Have you met Jane already?”

  That catches me by surprise. He does know about her. “She’s kind of unmissable,” I say.

  Connor pierces me with his look. “Yeah, she’s quite a handful.” He sips his coffee again. I think the cup is just a prop so he can gain time and examine my reactions. “She’s independent: she doesn’t answer to the Mothers, doesn’t belong to a coven, and I couldn’t get her to cooperate. And with her attitude and her Intimidating Charm…”

  “Are you sure she’s not the Singularity?” I ask.

  “She isn’t,” he says with authority.

  “That’s why you need someone else at Greenwood High.” I try to sound business-like, but I can see in his eyes I’m failing. I carry on. “Any news about the Singularity?”

  He looks away with a concerned expression on his face. He must take this assignment seriously. “No. She is still blocking her magical energy somehow. She might have some kind of shield up. She must be even more powerful than we’d guessed, to erase her magical signature completely. I hope your True Sight can spot her. If she’s around your school.”

  A little vulnerability shows beneath his controlled façade. He says, “We’re almost out of time, Skye. The Singularity must be seventeen now. If she’s living a regular life, she’s almost finishing school. She might leave soon, to college, or a job. Or just to run away: she knows we’re looking for her, or she wouldn’t be hiding her energy. She might even already be gone.”

  His sincerity moves me, but then I remember his other Charm is Trust. Everybody believes him and wants to help him. It’s not his fault: he can’t turn the Charm off. Still, I can’t help but feel manipulated a little. As I did when w
e were together.

  We are back to Savery Hall, and I spot the girls that surrounded Connor when I arrived. They linger around, like crows that don’t scare easily. “Nice harem.” I jerk my chin to his gathering of admirers.

  He doesn’t even look at them. “Oh, jealous much?” He smiles the devilish smile I remember. “Oh, come on,” he says when he sees my face. “It was a bad joke. Sorry.”

  Maybe he’s changing. The old Connor would never say he’s sorry.

  He never did.

  I always assumed it was over between us. But his apology sparks something—something I didn’t realize was still inside of me. Is there a chance of us being together again?

  I don’t know, and I will not find out today. I’d better leave.

  Chapter 7: Drake

  “Da-ad! That’s so unfair!” Mona is chanting her mantra.

  My sister is still in ninth grade, and I’m glad in our district this means we go to different schools. Neither of us wants the other lurking around. We have nothing in common.

  Mona and I came out of different assembly lines: I’m wiry and lanky like Dad; she is round and short like our mother. The only thing Mona and I share is eye color: hazel.

  She has gained considerable weight in the last few months. Since she’s so sensitive about everything, neither Dad nor I have had the guts to broach the subject. We don’t know if the change is caused by stress, a hormonal thing, or a natural development. Dad wants to ask her about her health and if she’s okay, but he doesn’t want to upset the precarious balance of Mona’s psyche. Me too. I mean, of all things I could point out, I imagine this is the one of the biggest no-nos in a brother-sister relationship.

  Dad and I also didn’t mention the black mini-skirts. Her body changed but she still wears her old clothes, which causes the mini-skirts to look… mini-er. Nor have we asked about the excessive highlights that look more like yellow stripes than blonde, giving the impression she’s going for a tiger motif. Nor the heavy make-up. Nor the oversized jewelry. But, hey, no piercings yet!

  So, through the gift of silence, Dad and I keep harmony in our house.

  That’s why Dad is so cautious when explaining things to her. “You can’t even get a permit yet, Mona,” my father says patiently. “Maybe you’ll get the car when Drake is done with it.”

  “You said we don’t have money!” My sister has a point.

  “I said we don’t have money to burn,” my father says and then looks quickly at me, alarmed. Any mention of fire-related words around me makes him nervous, because he thinks I’ll get upset. And he’s right.

  I’m the reason we don’t have money to… spare. About two years ago, I accidentally burned our old house down, with the help of a cigarette—my first and only. Our insurance wasn’t the greatest, and Dad lost most of our savings. We rent a smaller house now.

  And that’s not the worst that happened: I almost lost Mona. When I realized the house was on fire, I ran to her bedroom and found her unconscious. The smoke had already gotten to her. The paramedics that ultimately saved her said I was a hero, but I knew better.

  I still can’t believe I did it. I watched our house and everything inside, even our old pictures of Mom, vanish before my eyes. A haunting memory that will stay with me forever.

  Dad’s confidence, already shattered when Mom left, broke into tiny pieces. Since then he’s been jumpy and scared, afraid of losing us and of losing money for our future.

  It’s surreal that I have a car. We live modestly: no iThings for the Hunters. Just your basic computer and cell, more out of necessity than luxury.

  He’s a computer engineer, whatever that means. Mona and I guess he’s not very good. He works really long hours, including a murderous commute from Seattle to Renton, but the pay, albeit good, is not great. With the two of us all grown up, he spends less and less time with us.

  My encounter with the falling tree didn’t help things. My father, Mr. Worried-In-Chief, didn’t take it well. His knee-jerk reaction was to trade his reliable four-year-old Camry for a slightly less reliable seven-year-old Corolla for him and an—I’m not kidding—old brown Volvo wagon for me. According to him, it’s the safest car we can afford, but I can’t stop mocking myself in my head.

  Even though I’m laughing inside, I’m grateful; I had zero cars before. Now, the guilt of almost killing my sister and destroying our finances is compounded by the guilt of putting myself in danger again, and scoring my first ride in the process. It almost makes me side with Mona on this one. Almost.

  “Mona, I’ll be your driver, what do you say? I can take you to Rain’s house and—”

  “Her name is Pain, you moron!”

  “To Pain’s, to the piercing parlor, to the crack den, to that human sacrifice place—”

  “Da-ad!”

  “That’s enough, Drake,” Dad says. “He’s got a point, though, Mona. You’re having some strange company. You remember…”

  “We have to police ourselves. I know,” Mona repeats Dad’s mantra. Since he’s not around much, he tries to instill responsibility on us via overused catchphrases. Kind of futile after I almost got killed in the woods, but I get him.

  “Good,” Dad says, as if his job is done. “Now, I have to go to work. Oh, Drake, I got you a new cell phone too.”

  “Arrrrrgghhh!” Mona yells. She pulls on her hair theatrically and slams the door on her way out.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I get a kick out of it. I’m shameless.

  ***

  I skip school since the doctor said I should rest, but I show up on Stone Ave a few minutes after the bell rings. As I expected, I find Skye coming back from school. Naturally, she avoided the trail, even though it’s the shortest route and the weather’s nice today. For Seattle, I mean.

  I pull over and open my window. At least I don’t have to roll it down.

  “Hey,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

  She turns, unfazed, as if expecting me. “Hey, you.” She examines the embarrassing piece of Swedish engineering surrounding me. “Nice ride,” she says. Then she bursts out in a laugh that would make Sean proud.

  “Want one? Apparently, all you need is a brush with death, and they give you one of these beauties.” I slide my finger across the dashboard.

  “I could go for a coffee,” Skye says out of thin air. Before I have time to answer, she walks behind the car. I’m still stunned when she opens the passenger door and climbs inside.

  Uh-oh. Is this a date? I really should start planning these things better.

  Chapter 8: Skye

  He takes me to this charming, run-down coffee house on Broadway. We sit outside, watching the people traffic and listening to the city noise. Cars with rainbow flags, a hot dog vendor joking with his customers, a couple of girls with pink hair, a bunch of college students with full backpacks and white earphones. Whenever a homeless guy asks for change, Drake happily obliges.

  I sip my espresso, the third today, and ask about the car. He tells me his father wants him to be safe.

  “Speaking of safe, he also warned me about you. He said you’re a bad influence,” Drake says.

  I laugh. “He did not!”

  “He should have,” he says with a straight face. “I mean, can you blame him? He doesn’t know anything about you, and it seems you and I will be hanging out a lot.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Will we?”

  Drake makes a defensive gesture. “That’s what he says. If only he knew you better. Come on, tell me about yourself.”

  He doesn’t know it, but he’s a charmer. I have to ask Priscilla about Drake’s past. I stand up and announce, “I’m going to get a scone. Do you want anything?”

  “Are you trying to buy time?” He nails it.

  “No, I’m trying to buy a scone,” I say, cheekily, and go inside the coffeehouse. While waiting for my treat, I think about what I can volunteer. Hiding too much will only attract attention. I feel like I owe him the truth, or, at least, a slice of the truth. For w
hat we went through together in the woods.

  While I’m at the counter waiting for my scone, I sense another Sister. It’s a faint signature, but my instincts make me look around the coffeehouse. I peek outside, through the windows. The source is not moving. I close my eyes for an instant, trying to shut out my other senses. I feel it. It’s coming from way down the road.

  I return with my scone, but stop by the door, still inside. I stare in the direction the signature comes from, but it’s impossible to recognize a face from this distance. However, I see something else: a bright red bike, about two blocks from us. Jane.

  She probably thinks she’s at a safe distance to spy on us. And why not? In her mind, if she doesn’t sense me, it means I can’t sense her either. However, she doesn’t know about my long-ranging True Sight Charm.

  I wonder why she would follow us. I chalk it up to curiosity about another Sister coming into her territory. If she’s as anti-social as Connor says, it makes sense.

  Drake still awaits me. And an answer as well. I almost forgot about him.

  Partially hidden by the door, I peek at him. He seems to be watching something amusing on the street, because an easy smile sprouts from his lips. When he smiles, his whole face lights up: his eyes sparkle, his eyebrows arch, his angular chin becomes more prominent. The olive skin and the hazel eyes are a good match. Yep, he’s cute.

  I’d better not keep him waiting. I go outside to our table, sit down, and say, “I’m from London. I mean, I’ve been living in America on and off for a few years now.” I bite into the scone; it’s pure blueberry yumminess.

  “Where?”

  “New York, mostly. And Vancouver. And other places. My mother travels a lot,” I say, my mouth full.

  “No father?” When I nod, he continues. “Sorry, it’s none of my business, but I have a single parent too. My mom left us when I was little.”

  I know; his father was candid when we were at the hospital. It seemed as if Mr. Hunter felt compelled to justify Drake’s mother’s absence. But I just say, “My father died before I was born. Mum never married him. Or anyone else.” It’s true. She had lots of boyfriends, though.