Malice (3 page)

But he didn’t even try.

Most of our magic was elemental. Sometimes we had an affinity for one element over the other, but not always. My element was water but I could still manipulate the other elements to some extent.

As for Tristan, if he had an affinity at all, I didn’t know about it. He sucked equally at trying to manipulate air, earth, fire,
and
water. It was a pity because he excelled at everything else.

“Must you?” he grumped at me as the page settled into place. He didn’t lift his head but I could tell he was watching from under lowered lashes.

“Yes, I must,” I grumped back. I shot another bit of magic through the air, manipulating the air flow enough to open up my text book. This time I pushed out a bit more of my aura, enhancing the blue glow. It was all for show. I didn’t really need to let my aura through at all.

Tristan gritted his teeth.

I didn’t bother to smirk back.

“You can be so childish,” he said sourly.

Perhaps he was right. Like riding a bike or driving a car, usually the novelty of magic use wore off. That’s why even though we could use magic for just about everything, we often times didn’t bother.

Usually I enjoyed teasing him but for some reason, I didn’t tonight. Tonight, his reaction caused a heavy weight to settle deep inside of my heart. Not that long ago, I still held out the hope that Tristan would come around. That hope was fading. He’d taken his stand against magic and apparently he was going to stick to it.

The short conversation we’d just had embodied the very reason that Tristan and I would never be more than friends. Friendships were hard enough. Relationships were harder, or so I’d heard. Our differing opinion had started to cause problems in our friendship. I had a feeling it would be disastrous to a relationship.

A heavy weight settled into the pit of my stomach. It was a weight I was familiar with. It was the weight of my disappointment and despair.

Or as Daphne would be quick to point out, it was the ache of knowing my love was now, and would forever be, unreciprocated.

“Can I have the last breadstick?”

“You’ve already had two, Magpie,” I told my little sister. “The last one is mine.”

“Please?” Her big brown eyes fluttered as she pulled the single word out into its own sentence. Magnolia was six and I’d be the first to admit that she was somewhat spoiled. I would also readily admit that I often contributed to that.

I glanced down at the pile of spaghetti that was still on my plate. Everyone knows spaghetti tastes even better with a nice, garlicky breadstick.

“I really want it,” Magnolia said quietly.

I really wanted it too. But she was just so damn cute it was hard to resist.

“Fine,” I said as I nudged the plate her way. “Take it.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Mom interjected. “Magnolia, sweetie, you’ve already had more than enough.”

“But Samara said—”

Mom grimaced as she held her hand up to halt further protest. “That’s enough. Let Samara have the last one.”

I knew a full blown pout was about to appear. I quickly changed the subject as I reached for the breadstick. “So what were you two so busy with after school? You got home pretty late.”

Mom was usually around to make dinner. Tonight, that had been left to me. Hence, the super simple meal of spaghetti. I wasn’t much of a cook but it was one of the few meals I could handle. As long as the sauce came from a jar.

Mom shifted in her seat as a look of disapproval settled onto her face. “It seems that your sister was caught cheating on her spelling test.”

I stopped with a forkful of noodles halfway to my mouth. I swung my gaze from Mom to Magnolia. “Why would you do that?” I asked.

My sister looked completely unaffected. She simply shrugged and said, “Andrew didn’t care if I copied his test.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Mom muttered wryly. “But that is absolutely
not
the point.”

“So now what?”

Magnolia was only in first grade. It wasn’t as if they doled out detention at that age.

“Now your sister will have her television privileges revoked for the week,” Mom said. “She’ll have to retake the test in the morning. And if this ever happens again, the principal and I will have to come up with a far more severe punishment.”

Magnolia’s lips dropped into a frown.

“No pouting,” Mom said automatically.

I finally lifted the forkful to my mouth, my gaze darted between my mom and my sister. Cheating was bad. But even so, Mom seemed a little high strung tonight. She’d barely touched her dinner and she couldn’t seem to keep her concerned gaze from landing on my sister. Perhaps she was worried that cheating would lead to worse things like cutting school and then possibly to a life of crime.

“Mom,” I said, “she’s never done anything like this before. I’m sure she’ll never do it again.”

“I won’t cheat on my test again,” Magnolia agreed. She stared Mom down, an angelic smile on her face. “A week is a really long time to take away the TV.”

“I think it’s fitting,” Mom said. Her expression was pinched. She looked tired. Exhausted, really. Now that Magnolia was watching her, she kept her eyes averted.

“Mommy,” Magnolia started. She was still young enough that she could pull off using that term of endearment. “Please don’t punish me for a whole week.”

I took another bite, chewing as I watched my mother sigh. A small smirk appeared on Magnolia’s face. “I promise I’ll be good,” she reached over, placing her small fingers on Mom’s hand. “Please don’t punish me.”

“Well, I suppose—” Mom cut herself off with a shake of her head. She gently pulled her hand out from Magnolia’s grasp. She carefully set her clenched fist in her lap. “No. Magnolia, you need to face the consequences of your actions. Now if you’re done eating, please go up to your room. You have a test to study for.”

With a dramatic sigh, my little sister slid from her chair. She took her plate to the sink and a few moments later we could hear her marching up the staircase.

“Are you okay?”

My question took Mom by surprise. She worked her expression into a small smile. “Of course, I’m fine.”

“You know it was just a spelling test. She’s just a kid. I did way worse things when I was her age,” I pointed out.

Mom grimaced. “Yes, I clearly recall the time we had a guest and you thought her
Lhasa Apso
needed a haircut.”

“I was five! I just thought that dog needed to be able to see where it was going!” The poor thing had walked right into the doorframe.

“Oh,” Mom said, her eyes brightening, “it could see all right. We’re just lucky you didn’t gouge its eye out. Of course that wasn’t nearly as bad as the time you exploded a pitcher of water over that couple. The shattering glass could’ve been dangerous.”

That incident had occurred shortly after my magic had manifested. I was trying to impress a human couple with my ability to move the pitcher while I was on the other side of the table. I used a little too much force and the pitcher had exploded. Mom was right. That could’ve been bad. Fortunately for all of us, the shattered glass simply fell to the table. The water? That had been a different matter. It had cascaded right into their laps.

Mom had
not
been pleased with me.

I decided it was best if I not comment on that particular incident. Instead, I moved the conversation along. I gave my mom my brightest, sweetest grin.

“See, I was a handful sometimes and look at how well I turned out! There’s definitely hope for Magnolia.”

This earned me a small, barely-there smile. “You’re right. I’m sure everything will settle down. As for you, thank you. I appreciate that you made dinner. And I hate to ask but would you mind cleaning up in here? There’s something I really ought to take care of as soon as possible. Unless you have a lot of homework?”

I didn’t really want to clean the kitchen but Mom’s subdued demeanor made it hard to tell her ‘no’. Her smile had already faded away and the exhaustion had settled in once again.

“Sure. No problem,” I said. “Tristan was here earlier. I got all of my homework done before dinner.”

She pushed away from the table.

“Are you done already? You hardly ate anything.”

She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’m not very hungry tonight.”

Without another word she placed her plate on top of Magnolia’s and she left the kitchen. Until then, I’d been contemplating another serving. Suddenly my appetite was gone as well. I got to work putting the food away, cleaning the kitchen and washing the dishes.

It wasn’t until I was at the foot of the staircase that I realized that I’d forgotten to mention Levi to Mom. He wasn’t back yet and I didn’t want her to be taken by surprise when he showed up.

I heard shuffling coming from her private study. The room was on the main floor, off of the parlor. She kept the door locked with a charm that was impenetrable by guests. Now, as I neared the room, I realized she’d left the door open.

I stood in the doorframe for a moment watching her. The back wall was made of shelving that was covered in books. Instead of a desk, Mom had a large table placed in the center of the room. She was seated at it. A book rested in front of her. She was leaning forward on her elbows, obviously entranced with whatever she was reading. Her forehead was propped in her hands.

During dinner I’d thought her frazzled state could be attributed to Magnolia’s troubles. Now I realized whatever was troubling her must be magical in nature. That concerned me even more.

I knocked gently on the doorframe and her head snapped up. She whisked away a strand of hair that had fallen forward. Her dark eyes latched onto mine.

“Did you need something?” she asked. She sounded distracted though I could tell she was trying not to.

As I moved into the room she folded down the corner of the page she had been reading and then flipped the book shut. She pulled it close to her body before folding her arms over the top of it. If she was trying to hide it from me, it was pointless. I’d recognized the burgundy leather and the gold filigree.

I was tempted to ask her why she had that particular book out but she clearly didn’t want me to. Most nights, I’d probably press her anyway. Not tonight, though. Not when she looked as worn as she did now.

Instead, I told her what I’d come in here to say.

“We have a guest. His name is Levi,” I said as I reached the edge of her worktable. “I put him in the Ash Suite.”

She gave me a curt nod before saying, “You know I prefer that you call guests by their proper names.”

“He asked me to call him Levi. And honestly,” I said with a shrug, “he looks too young to be called a
Mr.
anything.”

She raised her eyebrows at that. “Is he traveling alone?”

Most of our guests were honeymooning or vacationing couples. Sometimes we had groups of women who were on a retreat. Having single men was rare. Having
young
single men…I couldn’t recall a time that had happened before. While single men possibly stayed at other bed and breakfasts, none had stayed at The Bella Luna before.

“He’s alone,” I confirmed. “He said he was in town for some kind of research. He had a meeting but I imagine he’ll be getting back anytime. I put him in for a week but we’ll want to leave the Ash Suite open for now. It sounds like he may stay longer.”

“Can someone read me a bedtime story?”

I glanced over my shoulder. I hadn’t heard Magnolia approach.

“I think you should go over your spelling,” Mom said firmly.

“I did. Twice,” my sister said. She wandered into the room, coming to a stop beside me. “I don’t like being upstairs all alone.”

Mom’s shoulders slumped just a bit. Her gaze dropped to the book peeking out from beneath her arms.

“I can read to her,” I offered.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

I had wanted to go over my calculus assignment again. Until this year, math classes had never been such a bother to me. For whatever reason, calculus was kicking my butt. It was embarrassing. While Tristan was always willing to help, I didn’t want him to think I was a complete imbecile. In the evenings, after he’d tutored me and my assignments were completed, I’d been going over them again.

Maybe I would have to skip that tonight.

“It’s no problem,” I told Mom.

I took my sister by the hand and led her out of the study.

“Samara,” Mom called quietly, “would you please close the door when you go?”

“Sure,” I said. I pulled the door to her study closed; wondering yet again what was demanding her attention.

Magnolia tugged me toward the staircase. When we reached her room, she bounced across her bed and patted the spot next to her. A book of fairy tales rested at her feet.

“Before I read to you,” I said as I edged onto the bed beside her, “I want you to promise me that you are never,
ever
going to cheat on another test.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at me. “I won’t. But it’s not fair. I didn’t hurt anyone and I got in lots of trouble. Andrew is
mean
and he never gets into trouble.”

“Why?” I asked. “What does he do? Has he hurt you?”

She shook her head, causing her cocoa-colored ringlets to bounce. “No. Mostly he ignores me. He’s really mean to Leo. Sometimes he makes him cry.”

“Leo? Do you mean Leo Grayson?” He was Alex’s little brother.

Magnolia nodded this time.

“What does Andrew do?”

“He teases him. Says his family practices dark magic. He told Leo he should be banished like the rest of the Striga.” Magnolia was quiet for a moment. Her brows were furrowed in consternation, or possibly concentration. Sometimes with her, it was hard to tell. “But I
like
Leo. He’s
nice
to me. He always gives me lemon drops on the playground. And yesterday, we were in the library and he got the last copy of
The Spider’s Dance
before I did. He let me have it anyway.”

“That was nice of him,” I agreed.

“Do you think what Andrew said was true? About Leo and dark magic?”

I shook my head. “Leo’s too young to practice any magic yet.” It was true. As Lamia, our powers remained dormant until close to our seventh birthdays. When they started to awaken, it typically happened slowly.

She let out an annoyed huff. “You know what I mean. I mean when he’s
old enough
.”

“Do you understand the difference between Lamia and Striga?” I was sure she did, to some extent. But the lines could be blurred and at her age, it could be confusing.

“We’re Lamia and we practice white magic. We’re ruled by the House of Albescu. The Striga practice dark magic. They’re ruled by the House of Negrescu,” she recited.

“That’s mostly right. The Striga
used
to be ruled by the House of Negrescu. But the leader was overthrown. The Lamia outnumber the Striga by more than triple.” And the humans outnumbered us exponentially. But we managed to coexist with them, so that point, at the moment, was irrelevant.