Part 19 (1/2)
”I can and I have. Your sister is a Dark witch who has the unusual ability to channel Light energy. I've asked you time and again to work with Henry, to help with that particular problem. Yet you refuse as if it were beneath you.”
”It is beneath me and you know it.”
”Should I leave?” I ask.
”No, Love, stay. Callum doesn't know his place.”
Callum's nostrils flair. ”You only want me to help Henry because it will put me in the Midlands, away from you, so you won't have to be reminded of what a disappointment I am.”
My brother's nightmare sounds a lot like my dream. Funny how that works.
I slouch in my seat and catch Annalise's eye. She looks just as pained as I feel. Without asking permission, she pushes back from the table. ”Lark, let's go for a walk.”
”That's right, Lisi, run away like you always do,” my brother roars. ”Make sure to say 'hi' to Oliver for me.”
Annalise keeps her shoulders thrown back and nods to me. When Mother doesn't object, I leap from the table.
Once Annalise and I are in the hallway, she asks, ”Would you like to go Kyra's?”
I study my sister-in-law's face. She looks tired. And sad. ”Is everything okay?”
She smiles, a pathetic sort of twisting of her lips. ”I'm okay. Callum is just being Callum.” I don't believe her, but if she doesn't want to tell me, I won't push. ”Should I ping Kyra and tell her we're coming?”
”No,” I say. ”Let's surprise her. Should we alert Dawson? Or Oliver?”
”Not Oliver,” she says quickly, glancing back toward the dining room where Mother and Callum are locked in a heated exchange. ”I mean neither. There's no need. We'll be fine.”
Our coats appear in her hands and I take mine from her. ”Do you know the yellow house at the end of the street where the extra staff lives?” she asks.
”Yes.”
”Land there, behind the garden gate.”
She blinks out. I don't blame her for wanting to get out of here, but to leave without me...she must be upset.
I land exactly where she told me. And, to my delight, I do not land too close to Annalise. Excitement tingles in my blood as we step out onto the end of the block.
An offsh.o.r.e wind sends gray fog rus.h.i.+ng around us and blots out the far end of the street. From where I stand, San Francisco looks faded behind a veil of mist.
Annalise scans the street before us with her wristlet while I keep my eyes on the corner cameras. My housemates used to play a game of dodging the cameras. But now, I understand their importance. It's just one way to see if the Splinter group is moving throughout the City.
In the few minutes since we've left Mother's, Annalise has slipped back into work mode. Calm, determined, strong. It's unnerving, in a way.
A dark shadow in the middle of the block catches my attention. ”Who's that?” I ask.
Annalise's head jerks up from her wristlet. The figure pauses, as if watching us. Annalise moves in front of me, like a human s.h.i.+eld, and presses on her wristlet, searching for data. She clicks her tongue in frustration and with three fingers raised, waves her hand in a semi-circle. ”A witch, but I'm not pulling up a name.”
”Should we leave?” My heart dances in manic excitement while my head tells me this isn't a safe situation.
”Do you know how to cast a s.h.i.+elding spell?” Annalise asks.
”No.” My eyes are trained on the strange figure. So far, he-or she-hasn't moved closer to us.
”Imagine you're inside a bubble. One that magic can't penetrate.” She takes my hand. ”Here.”
Her magic pulses into my blood. It feels like a live thing, like small bugs, creeping through my body. I want to bat at my arms and legs to slap them away.
”Can you feel that?”
”Yes,” I say.
”That's my magic. Now cast it off.”
I close my eyes and envision a large dome, similar to the one over Summer Hill. When I open my eyes, there's nothing to be seen, but I can feel the hum of magic surrounding us.
”Do you think it's Eamon?” I ask.
Annalise laughs. ”If it were, we wouldn't be standing here playing with magic. It's probably just some old witch out for a walk.”
The figure turns the corner and disappears.
”See?” she says. The invisible s.h.i.+eld crumples around us. ”Just someone out enjoying a walk.”
We turn right on Spruce and left at the end of the block. Kyra's house sits five houses in. It's a grand home with old-fas.h.i.+oned brickwork and high-arching windows. Once again, I'm struck by how much Mother has given Kyra and how my friend accepts it with no reservations.
Annalise and I stand side-by-side on the narrow front porch. My finger hovers over the ringer.
”Is something wrong?” Annalise asks.
I shake my head. ”No. Just admiring how extravagant Kyra's house is.” I press the ringer and the door swings open.
An older, dark-haired man stands before me. He visibly startles when he recognizes me, but quickly covers by making a deep bow.
”Miss Lark,” he says, his smooth voice wrapping itself around my brain and filling my core with warmth. ”This is a surprise.”
He steps aside and holds the door wide so we can enter the foyer. ”Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Morris. I'm the new house manager for Maz and Kyra Matsu.”
It's strange, the way he keeps his head turned to the side as he speaks. As if he doesn't want us to get a good look at him.
Something about him feels familiar. I can't explain it, but it's like we've meet before. Which is impossible because I don't a.s.sociate with middle-aged household help.
”Are Kyra and Maz home?” My blood hums in excitement.
The man doesn't make any other sort of eye contact with me. In fact, he avoids my gaze. ”Miss Kyra is in the parlor, and Maz is in the library with Ryker.”
Once I get over the surprise that Ryker is here and not at home, lying sick in bed, I zero in on how informal Tom is when discussing the boys.
”Not Mr. Maz?” I chastise. My heart bangs against my ribs. If it doesn't settle down soon, I'm going to die of a heart attack.
”He's requested I refer to him by first name alone.” The house manager holds out his arm for my coat that I've shrugged off. Tom continues to avoid my gaze as he takes my jacket from me. Annalise hands him hers and scans the interior of the room. She seems unaware of Tom's odd behavior.