Part 17 (1/2)
Abbey wondered what would happen if Mark decided to bolt. The car pulled around slowly and drove off into the night.
The sounds of music and voices drifted down the drive. On one side of the deck, adults outfitted in dresses, high heels, and suits clutched gla.s.ses of amber and ruby liquid and exchanged greetings with backslaps and drunken guffaws. Another group in faded cotton, baggy pants, and comfortable shoes gathered on the other side of the deck. Dreadlocked and scruffy heads bent together as this group chatted in low tones. Their mother's old guard of environmentalist friends, and her new cadre of corporate sponsors keen to green their image. There had been threats of desertion by some of the environmentalists as the new corporate sponsors had started to drift in. Even now, amidst the revelry, one could sense an undertone of tension. Mantis wasn't among either of the groups on the deck.
Simon pulled open the front door and held it for the twins. Their mother detached herself from the group she'd been chatting with. She wore a white b.u.t.ton-up blouse, a long brown skirt, and low heels. She'd swept her dark hair up into a loose bun, and her deep purple eyes, so like Simon's, bore traces of kohl and mascara. Farley shadowed her, the chocolate of his fur a perfect complement to her skirt. Abbey s.h.i.+vered. Farley was always so well behaved and controlled in their mother's presence. With her cheeks flushed and her eyes alight with the fiery look she always got when talking politics, Marian Beckham looked much more herself than she had the previous night. Their mother's striking appearance, stature, and self-a.s.sured way had always been a.s.sets, garnering stares and ever-friendly helping hands from men. In the wake of the day's events, Abbey began to a.s.sess her mother in a new light. Witch blood. What did that mean? Abbey pushed the stringy, red threads of her own hair behind her ears.
”Abbey, Caleb, Simon. I was getting worried. You didn't answer my call. You must be starved. Come in and help yourselves. There are some people I want you to meet.”
Their mother ushered them into the kitchen where hors d'oeuvres lay artfully arranged on trays. A catering staff from the local cooking school occupied the kitchen, pulling filo-pastry-wrapped prawns out of the oven and spooning chili dip over crab cakes. Vegetarian options were lined up in rows on another tray.
”Where've you been?” asked their mother. ”You're very late. Eat, eat.”
”We were at a ball game,” said Caleb. ”It went late. We ate at the game. Can we go to the crypt and watch a movie?”
”In a bit. I really need you to circulate around for a little while. Everyone wants to meet you. I know it sucks, but could you do it just for me? I know it's been a long haul, but it's almost over.” She sank into one of the kitchen chairs, the folds of her dark skirt gracefully dusting the floor, and smirked at them. ”Let's just hope I don't get elected.”
”Do you really not want to be elected, Mom? What about all those speeches about 'for the greater good'?” asked Caleb.
”I don't know. I'm just tired, guys. And I miss you. These last few weeks have been ridiculous.” Their mother's face clouded. ”You must be very upset about Mrs. Forrester. I understand you took the call, Abbey. I'm worried about Mark. The nurses said he went to a halfway house of some sort. I guess we'll have to leave him there for the night, but would you be okay if I go pick him up and bring him here tomorrow? I'm going to take the morning off and visit Mrs. Forrester and then get some things organized around here. I see it's a teacher workday at school, so maybe we can all have lunch and hang out together.”
Abbey glanced uneasily at her brothers. Should they tell their mother they'd already picked up Mark?
Their mother stood up. ”I can tell you're not completely comfortable with it. I understand. He's a bit unpredictable. You can think about it and let me know in the morning. I'd better get back at it. Your father is here somewhere. Probably out on the deck with the other suits. I need to go run interference between the greenies and the suits or someone might stage a revolt. I'll be back in a few minutes to introduce you around.”
The man approached them from behind as Abbey, Simon, and Caleb sat in the kitchen nook after their mother left. Abbey recognized the tall silhouette with the shoulder-length silver hair reflected in the nook window. Mantis smiled broadly as he folded his lanky frame into the nook next to Simon.
”Lose a few members of your party?” he asked.
”How do you know our mother?” Abbey returned.
”I'm involved in her campaign as a major donor. But I've known her for years. I knew your grandparents, and your Great-Aunt Marge.”
”I told you it was Great-Aunt Marge,” said Caleb.
The gold tooth flashed.
”Did you like them?” asked Abbey.
Mantis laughed, actually guffawed, his gray curls thrown back over his shoulders.
”Yes, I did,” said Mantis. ”But I really do need to find Mark. Perhaps you could tell me where he is?”
”Why? So you can use him to kill one of us?”
Mantis's smile drew inward until his mouth formed a thin line and his eyes had a glint that made Abbey nervous. ”Well, you are a very direct young lady, much like your mother and Francis. I suppose that's the mark of a good potential witch.” Mantis laced his long, snake-like fingers together one by one, revealing the whites of his long nails. He left his forefingers extended, almost as if forming a steeple. It made him look oddly prepared to strike. ”Just be sure you don't get off to the wrong start by listening too much to our poor dear Dr. Ford, who always tried, but never quite got the hang of a lot of things. You should be careful around him. You know, Matthew 7:15 and all.”
A draft of cool air from the open sundeck door moved up Abbey's leg. She s.h.i.+vered.
”Oh, I see you've already met Sylvain,” their mother murmured as she flowed back into the room.
The fingers unlaced and Mantis rea.s.sembled his face into a charming smile.
”Simon, I've been intending to introduce the two of you. Sylvain is a computer genius. I'm sure the two of you would have a lot in common.”
”Yeah,” said Caleb. ”Like some day they may try to design the same computer program.”
Their mother whirled and gave Caleb a searching look. ”Why would you say something like that?”
”Relax, Mom. It was a joke.”
”Well, I don't like you to be rude.” Their mother continued to study Caleb.
Mantis smiled. ”It is quite all right, Marian. After all you've told me about him, it's quite possible the young Simon and I might design the same computer program some day. And then may the best man, or, shall we say, program, win.” Mantis laughed. ”It's been a pleasure meeting you children. I must go and chat with a friend of mine before he leaves. Simon, don't hesitate to come in and see me at my office if you're looking for summer work.”
They all watched as Mantis strode across the room to talk to a short, stout balding man near the bar. Mantis folded his fingers together again while he spoke.
Abbey shuddered.
Their mother elevated her eyebrow at Caleb. ”I'm going to take you around for some introductions. I would appreciate a little less glibness, Caleb. Then you can go watch your movie.” Abbey tried to get her mother alone for a few minutes, but in vain. There were too many people milling about in the hallways and rooms, and her mother always seemed to be talking to someone. Nothing could happen, Abbey rea.s.sured herself. Dr. Ford had Mark. Mantis couldn't use the stones.
They were finally able to retreat to the crypt with laptops and snacks half an hour later. Abbey explained her Alice the camel idea to Simon and Caleb, and they agreed she should do some further research on Al-Ice. Caleb departed to the storage room, indicating he had a lead he wanted to follow up on, but remained a bit mysterious with regard to what it was. Simon sat on the couch, staring out the window, muttering about going to check on Dr. Ford and Mark.
”Si, what went on between you and Russell Andrews? Please tell me. He's being really friendly toward me.”
Simon jerked his head around. ”Do not trust Russell Andrews.”
”Can you please tell me what happened? He wants me to join some youth advisory committee or something. It's really weird. Why me?”
”Just stay away from him.”
”I heard him telling you that you'd better not let him down. What was that all about?”
Simon let out a sigh of exasperation and waved her over to him. Abbey approached gingerly. Simon lowered his voice to a whisper. ”Look, Russell convinced me to do something that I shouldn't have. He said it would help Mom. Russell's aunt is running for city council, too-Gretchen Leer, the woman with the red curly hair that wears too much lipstick. He told me he had evidence that two of the existing councilors are corrupt and were working against Mom. He wanted me to hack into the city mainframe and download their email record so we could find some evidence against them. I guess his cousin works at City Hall and lifted a pa.s.sword file, except they couldn't figure out how to use the pa.s.swords and sort through the files to get the ones they needed. So, they needed my help. I had no problem getting in and getting the files. But then I read them and realized that the two councilors weren't corrupt at all. They were working with Mom to get Coventry Hill protected. Anyway, I refused to give him the files and he's totally p.i.s.sed off.”
”Oh, Simon. I can't believe you did that.”
”Tell me about it. If they bring in any sort of computer forensic guy, I am so dead. I mean, I think I covered my tracks, but you can never be too sure. The bottom line is, don't trust Russell. I have no idea what he was looking for, but I can tell you he was not trying to help Mom.”
”Don't you think you should tell Mom?”
”No way. And if you say a word, you're so dead.” Simon resumed staring out the window, his face dark and tight, and Abbey returned to the flowered couch.
Abbey booted up her laptop and read everything she could find about Aluminum Ice, twice. She found nothing of interest except that, save for resolving a few technical issues, Aluminum Ice looked like a very promising way to power s.p.a.ce travel. She felt a wave of frustration creep over her. Then she Googled Matthew 7:15. Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, she read. What had Caleb said? Something about false prophets. Except who was the false prophet?
”I found it,” said Caleb, waving an open book over his head. When he got closer, Abbey could see he carried one of their mother's yearbooks, dated 1984.
”Found what?” Abbey said.
”Sandy Ford.”
”Sandy who?”