Silence - eARC (25 page)

“I don’t have to justify myself to you, or anyone else for that matter, Staci. I have my own reasons for doing what I do, and that’s no one’s business but my own.” Tim sounded almost…sad? She couldn’t put her finger on what it was in his voice, but there was a sort of hollowness in what he was saying.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “If you want me to go away, you’re going to have to give me a good reason. Because otherwise, I’m not going to stop nagging you.”

“You want a reason? You
will
get hurt doing this, Staci. It’s amazing that you haven’t been killed already, to be honest. Magic is dangerous; mixed with elves, it’s deadly in ways that go beyond just having your body die.” He looked at his coffee cup, avoiding her eyes. “I know.”

She clenched her teeth. “I’m
stuck
in Silence, Tim. I’m a kid, I can’t just move out or run away—well, I could run away, but chances are I’d be hooking for a pimp in Las Vegas before you could say ‘crack addict.’ My dad
won’t
take me back for the good reasons of my mom being a lush, and her boyfriend’s trying to molest me—you think he’d take me back if I started spouting off about dangerous elves? Besides, my friends are here, and I thought you liked them! Whether we fight or we don’t, the answer is the same: we’re either going to have to
do
something and maybe die trying, or we become collateral damage hiding in the cellar! So why aren’t you
doing
something?”

“Because I’ve already done enough!” He slammed his fist down on the table, causing both of their coffee mugs to jump. There were a tense few breaths where Tim’s eyes were fixed on hers, and she felt frozen by his sudden outburst of rage. Then the moment passed, and the anger faded from his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you like that, Staci.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair again and covering his face with his hands for a moment. “But I know how this is all going to play out. Whether the Blackthornes ‘win,’ or you and Dylan ‘win,’ it’s all going to be the same; the elves do what they want, and damn everyone else.” He was quiet, lost in thought, and his eyes became unfocused as he stared past her. “I was like your friend, a long time ago. I even worked with his kind, on occasion. There was always more to do; I was younger then. Stupid. There were so many people that I lost, but I told myself that so long as
the mission
was there, that it all wasn’t for nothing. I made the mistake of trusting an elf to have my back. Then I was left twisting in the wind when I needed help the most. And, like I said, there are worse things than dying when you get involved with elves.”

Staci was taken aback by the hurt in Tim’s voice. It sounded very much like Dylan, when he had been talking about his cousin. This was different, though; Tim had been pushed too far, past the breaking point…and then some. He
had been
broken. She shivered involuntarily, not wanting to ponder on what could have happened that had been so bad that it could have broken someone like him. She had to say something to bring him back to the present, to keep him from self-pity.

“Dylan isn’t that other elf.
I’m
certainly not an elf—well, mostly. I don’t know what you went through, Tim, but I’m sorry that you had to do it alone. I can’t just turn my back on this, though. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think it would do much good; this stuff with the Blackthornes…it’s going to keep coming after me, even if I ignore it or run from it. So, my only option left is to fight; fight to survive, fight to help save this town and everyone in it. Even you. Even,” she gulped, “if you won’t fight to save yourself.”

That
got a response. There was another burst of anger, more contained now, but still smoldering behind Tim’s eyes. For a second, it looked as if he was going to say something; maybe the spark would catch, and he would see reason and help her. But then it was gone again. “I’m tired, Staci. You should go home. It’s not safe out after dark; you know that, now, better than anyone else in Silence.”

“Tim—”

“Go home. I don’t want to talk about this again.” There was finality in his statement. She had tried to get through to him, and lost. Without another word, she angrily gathered up her shoulder bag and stormed towards the back door. As she was about to shove it open, she looked back to Tim, still hoping that he might change his mind.

“I meant what I said, Staci; you don’t want to be in this fight. Run, or hide. Better yet, forget you have ever even heard of magic. And just hope that it forgets you right back.”

She didn’t have a response for that that wasn’t laden with cussing, and she didn’t have the energy to get into it with Tim again. So, she left, letting the door slam behind her.

* * *

It was…weird. On the one hand, now she was completely aware that she was in the middle of something really, really bad. Like being under siege or something. But on the other hand, everything looked and seemed completely normal. The missing three kids? Well, concern about them just faded away, and even the gang stopped talking about them after a day or two. It was business as usual in Silence, and even Wanda was keeping her lip buttoned about it.

She finally decided that it
had
to be part of whatever spells the Blackthornes had woven over the town. Sort of a “nothing to see here, move along” that made everyone forget things that were inconvenient to the Blackthornes.

And she--even while she felt as if she should be fighting something, or running, or trying to hide like Tim--had to act the same, if she didn’t want to paint a great big target on herself. It was a strange week. If she was going to do what Tim thought she should do…she should have been figuring out how to hide from everyone. Instead, she was acting completely normally. Laundry, housecleaning, increasingly infrequent trips to the Hill to check her increasingly sparse messages, grocery shopping, breakfast at the diner, gaming with the gang…

And waiting for another invitation from Sean, which she didn’t want to accept, and knew she had to. And yet, she wanted to accept it too, because Dylan had stressed how important it was that they find out
exactly
what the end game for the Blackthornes was; she was their best bet for that, since Sean was interested in her and kept bringing her back to the estate. It made her skin crawl, imagining him trying to break into her room to watch her sleep again.

And right on schedule, Thursday night, the call came from Sean to come up to the estate for the weekend. There would be a new twist to the entertainment, this time. The cousins were going to play some polo games, a sort of tournament over Saturday and Sunday. Staci accepted, of course, faking the enthusiasm that she had felt before, working through her anxiety, and keeping her voice chipper and upbeat. She wasn’t into sports all that much, so she hoped that the games would be enough of a distraction that she would be able to slip away while most of the cousins—and Sean—were otherwise occupied. She did her best to keep her mind off of it for the next day, dodging her mother and keeping to chores. She let the gang know where she was going to be, but avoided going back to the bookstore; she wasn’t ready to face Tim again, and was still angry with him after their last conversation.

Friday afternoon came far too soon for Staci’s liking. Her every instinct told her to run, or to use some of the defensive spells that Dylan had taught her when she saw Sean’s car pull up to the curb in front of her house. She couldn’t tip their hand now, though; she needed to just grit her teeth and bear through it, do what needed to be done…no matter how loathsome she found being around Sean, now. Even if he wasn’t a part of all of the bad stuff willingly, he wasn’t doing anything to stop it or warn anyone. That was just about as bad as pulling the trigger itself on whatever was going to happen to Silence, at least in her mind.

“You look wonderful as always, Staci,” Sean was leaning against his car, arms crossed in front of his chest as he waited for her to make her way off of the porch and to the street. She had concentrated on everything being normal; that included taking as much care with her wardrobe as if she still
wanted
to be his girlfriend. She was wearing another New York summer outfit: mint-colored yoga pants and a matching crop-top. Given that there was going to be sports involved, she had khaki shorts and polo shirts in her bag, and her vintage jumpsuit and accessories in case they were having a formal dinner.

He was grinning, a sort of
lookie-at-something-that-I-own-coming-this-way
smirk that she wanted to wipe off of his face with a two by four. But instead…

He might not be in on this. And this is kind of how he was raised. What did I tell Wanda? You might not like the customs of another country but…you deal with them.
So she smiled brightly, and then dropped her eyes as if she was a little shy so he wouldn’t catch how much she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake the truth out of him.
Treat it like you’re an actress in a play, girl. Just play the part of the happy-to-be-here ditz hopped up on hormones. Though, it doesn’t hurt that he
is
still drop-dead gorgeous, when you set aside the creep factor.

Fortunately, she was never required to actually make any conversation with Sean, only to supply him with an audience. So on the trip up, he chattered away about polo, and how much the cousins enjoyed it, and how this was the annual tournament between his mother’s side of the family and his father’s.

Well, that gave her the opening to make it sound as if she was interested. “Which side is Finn on?” she asked.

He snorted. “Father’s, of course. Which is why he keeps sucking up. He’s the captain of the team, in fact.”

She made a little face. “Hold back my surprise. Do you play?”

“I’m captain of the team for mother’s side,” he replied, surprising her a little. “Father’s idea. I don’t mind; it gives me a chance to put Finn in his place. Anyway, this is how tournament weekend always goes. There’s a formal dinner tonight, with Father in prominent attendance. Everybody goes to bed pretty early, and the first game is at ten A.M. Each match is eight chukkas—that’s like an inning in a baseball game—and the whole match will last a little less than two hours. Then break for lunch, and two matches in the afternoon, break for dinner, and everyone goes to bed early, because polo matches are basically like battles. Same thing Sunday.” As she looked at him a little incredulously, he smirked and shrugged. “Seriously, I promise you, everyone will be too tired Saturday and Sunday to stay up past…say…ten P.M. And
that
will be late. The cousins take this annual thing very seriously. It’s like, whoever’s side wins the match not only gets bragging rights for the year, but gets some kind of status boost.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “Finn won last year.”

He nodded. “Very sharp of you. And I intend to win this year.” There was that hint of something darker in his tone again…she had to wonder exactly what was
really
at stake with these games, what was going on behind the scenes.
Focus. Use the distraction.

It took all of her will to muster a smile. She put her hand on Sean’s arm, “I’m sure you will, Sean. I’d even put money on it.”

Sean smiled warmly at the compliment. Staci had the simultaneous urges to retch and to swoon, though the latter was
much
more muted than it had been. She would have given anything to be able to peer inside of his head, and find out exactly how much of him was genuine, and how much was scum.

He pulled his sports car into the driveway, and got out. As usual there was a servant waiting to take it off to be garaged. She reflected that she had never seen the garage. She wondered how many dozens of cars it held, and if any of them were elvensteeds.

“Shall we?” He offered her his arm. Without missing a beat, Staci put her arm through his. Still smiling, he led her up the steps and into the mansion. She suspected that this would be the longest weekend she would have had to endure yet since she came to Silence, and that was saying something.

Chapter Nineteen

This time she wore her black silk jumpsuit with an equally vintage black lace top with bell sleeves. She wished she had her grandmother’s cocktail ring that Brenda had stolen. It was about the one thing she owned she thought would impress the Blackthornes.

Something that would impress them would presumably distract them from
her.
She wanted as many distractions as possible. She wasn’t dazzled by the mansion or any of the other finery anymore; this was a mission, now, and if Tim and Dylan were right, it was literally life or death. Staci had never imagined herself being in a situation like this, but she was damned if she was going to back out now, even if she could.

In a way, it was a good thing that dinner was “formal.” It kept conversation very formal as well, and gave her an excuse to be quiet. Bradan presided over the table like a monarch, with the cousins all attentive to his every word. After aperitifs and other refreshments were served along with the appetizers, Bradan struck a glass with his soup spoon for silence, bringing the hushed conversations around the table to a stop. He cleared his throat, smiling wanly to the assembled Blackthorne clan.

“Our family has always prided itself on excellence: excellence above all others, and excellence among ourselves. The tournament is an extension of our constant striving for greatness; though we all work together towards the elevation of our family name, we still seek singular fame and recognition. I know all of you will do our family proud during the next few days, your devotion being shown in your exertions and competition. With that, I propose a toast.” He raised a wine glass; the full-bodied red wine uneasily reminded Staci of blood. She raised her own glass of ginger ale in response. “I believe I will paraphrase the…Olympic motto.”

And Staci wondered about that pause. Had he been about to say “human” or “mortal” Olympic motto?

“Better. Smarter. Stronger.”

Yeah, I’ll drink to that. For us humans, you pointy-eared freak.
She smiled and sipped her ginger ale.

The rest of the dinner proceeded a little differently than the last one she had been at. At the last one, Bradan had been preoccupied with his guests. At this one, he was preoccupied with the cousins, singling out Sean and Finn for admonitions and remarks designed to amp up their already intense rivalry. Bradan, behind his quiet reserve, seemed to enjoy goading the two of them. Given the sick enjoyment that she had been told Unseleighe took in suffering, she wasn’t terribly surprised, but still disgusted.
These people make my stepmother seem like a Girl Scout in comparison.

Meaghan—clearly Finn’s girl—stayed completely out of it and completely silent, and Staci followed her example. There was…a
lot
of testosterone, or whatever the elven equivalent was, on display at the table. It wasn’t just Sean and Finn, it was the males of both teams. Presumably, women were not on either team. Then again, now that Staci thought about it, pretty much all the males among the Blackthorne clan had exhibited varying degrees of belief in “masculine superiority.”

Yet another reason to hate them.

Staci’s attention was drawn to the very end of the table. She had noticed on one of her latest visits that the Blackthornes often seated people at the table in order of importance; Bradan at the head of the table, with people like his personal guests or Sean to his sides, and on down the line. At the very end tonight was Morrigan. While still reserved like the other women, she was clearly fidgeting, drawing a few sharp glances now and again.
She looks as uncomfortable as I feel with all of this sexist and macho crap.
Wanda’s instincts had, in retrospect, been pretty good so far, with all of the weird and creepy stuff happening around the Blackthornes. Staci needed to remind herself to really apologize to that girl, and soon. Wanda’d been there for her, even when she didn’t think she needed anyone. And her impression about Morrigan—“Mori”—was that she was one of the good ones.
I’ll need to let Dylan know about her. Not
all
of them have to be bad, right?

It was both a relief and a strain when the dinner broke up. A relief because of the high level of tension at that table. A strain because now Sean’s attention would be centered on her.

But just as dessert was cleared away and Bradan signaled dinner was at an end, a servant came hurrying up to him and whispered in his ear. After a few moments, he frowned, and crooked a finger at Sean, who whispered an excuse to her and joined his father. While she sat with hands and napkin folded in her lap like a good little serf, the two of them began what looked like an intense and urgent conversation.

It went on for about fifteen minutes by her watch, and when it was over, Sean arranged his face in an apologetic expression and returned to her while his father got up and hurried off, much to the confusion of the cousins.

Before speaking to her, Sean addressed those still at the table. “I’m afraid one of our current research projects has unexpectedly…shall we say, ‘ripened’? Father and I will need to personally oversee it this weekend. The tournament is postponed.”

She kind of expected disappointment and outrage. Instead there was…well, it looked like a flash of
greed
on most of their faces. And then, they began breaking up, talking among themselves, and leaving the table. In moments they were gone.

“I’m sorry to ruin your weekend, Staci,” Sean said, as the last of them left. “But it can’t be helped. I’ll drive you down to Silence myself; I need to be there anyway. This really
is
urgent.” Then he leaned down and whispered in a conspiratorial fashion, “This is what is going to put me ahead of Finn in Father’s eyes in a way he will
never
be able to counter.” There was that unhealthy twinkle of greed in his eyes, just like the others around the table.

“Well then, that’s
way
more important than the tournament or anything else,” she replied. “I’ll run up and get my bag and meet you out front.” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed away from the table, and headed at a fast walk for her room.
Whatever is going on, it’s something that I need to learn about. This is exactly why I’m here. There’s something going on with Bradan and Sean. And with the way Sean’s talking, this might be the break that Dylan and I need.

That thought gave her a little jolt.
Dylan and I.
She was starting to fall for him. He was rough around the edges, but now that she knew what his past was, what he had been doing before she was even born, well, that was to be expected. He had kept her at arm’s length in the beginning, but that was changing. Even with that, he was still trying to do what was right, and that counted for a lot. Not only that, but he trusted her enough to include her; it was a partnership. He was even teaching her magic, ways for her to defend herself. Sure, it was scary as all hell, being opened up to an entirely new and terrifying world. But at least he wasn’t hiding anything from her, like Sean. Even Tim, who was certainly her friend and who seemed to be trying to look out for her, wasn’t telling her everything, and never had, even when he almost
certainly
had known there was something about her that wasn’t like the other kids.

She pushed all thoughts of Dylan and Tim out of her mind, as hard as it was to do that where Dylan was concerned. She needed to play her part, like an actress on Broadway. She headed back downstairs with her things, smoothing out her clothing before she came into view of Sean. For the split second it took before he noticed her, she saw that he looked impatient, even upset. All of that vanished when he became aware of her.
He’s good about putting his mask back on.

She said nothing as he handed her into the car, then took the driver’s seat. Only when they were on the way did she say anything.

“I’m not gonna ask you what this is all about, ’cause I know that has to be all kinds of trade secrets and everything,” she said, putting a lot of simpering into her voice, and glad he couldn’t see her face while he was concentrating on driving. Which he was. Very fast. “I’ll just say I hope you have every bit of luck you deserve.”
All of it bad.
She kept her head down, just in case, so it would be harder to see her expression. A thought occurred to her, and she cleared her throat. “Um, could you drop me off near the diner instead of my house? I’m still hungry, that was kind of a tense meal and I didn’t eat much.”

“You’re a gem, Staci.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I’m really sorry that we couldn’t have the weekend together again. I was so looking forward to it. But this…development can’t be put off, and needs my personal attention.” He grinned, showing his teeth. “I knew you would understand, though.” Their course changed, taking them away from the edge of town and down towards the docks.
A lot shorter of a run from the diner to whatever “business” he has in town than from my house. Maybe I can keep up with his car if I use the back alleys…

They passed the warehouse district. And…to her glee as they passed, she spotted a limo. Granted, one limo looked pretty much like any other, but how many people in Silence could afford one, and how many were likely to be parked at a warehouse at this time of night? Okay, maybe a drug dealer, except in New York drug dealers generally drove SUVs or sports cars. She committed the location to memory; if she hurried, she might be able to run back to where she saw the limo before it left.

“And here we are.” He pulled up in front of the diner. She wanted badly to jump out—but that would be out of character, now. So she waited for him to come around, open the door and hand her out again. But he was clearly in a hurry; he only gave her a peck on the cheek before getting into the car and speeding off. He didn’t even wait to see if she went into the diner, he was in that much of a hurry.

She had changed back into jeans and a polo shirt before leaving, making sure that both of the garments were dark colors. But what to do with her bag? Finally, after a little dithering, she stashed it deep in the overgrown bushes around the bottom of the diner.
I really wish I had had time to learn that invisibility spell or whatever it was that Dylan had used for my bike.
It was really hard to push the bag down in there, and she hoped that would keep her stuff safe. It would be a drag to lose that vintage clothing.…

What am I thinking? This might be the key to keeping us all
alive!
Why am I worrying about some outfits?

She looked around again, trying to make sure that no one—and no Red Caps!—were lurking around, but the street seemed completely deserted, and the two people inside the diner were intent on whatever it was they were eating. She crossed the street and took to the alleys as the best way of staying out of sight.

She figured it took her about fifteen minutes to get to the warehouses at the docks; she slowed down when she got close to where she had spotted the limo. It was funny, now, how well she knew the streets and alleys of Silence. She couldn’t get lost now if she tried, and never again would anyone be able to run her into a dead end; she’d spent a lot of time with a real map of the town, and then with several walk-throughs, memorizing it all. Getting cornered once by people that wanted to kill her was more than enough for Staci. Still, she made sure to take note of the features of the alleys; no telling what she would have to throw in the way or jump over if she
did
get chased out by someone.

Finally, she was there: the warehouse was identical to nearly every other warehouse in the area. Rusted metal walls, painted over dozens of times in the same shade of beige. Slowly, she edged to the corner at the end of the alley she was in. Crouching low and only allowing the edge of her face to show, she peered around the corner.
The limo, it’s still there! And there’s Sean’s car.
She didn’t see Sean or Bradan anywhere, just a couple of guys in suits. They did
not
look like limo drivers; too big and heavily muscled.
Guards?
She had never seen anything like guards around the estate; just servants and cousins, really. Whatever was going on here, it had to be important. And with the two heavies at the front door, there was no way she was going to be able to get in by that route.

Staci slowly backed off from the corner, following the wall of the warehouse. She traced the route she had taken, making her way around the building. She walked, careful not to knock over bottles or otherwise disturb trash that might make some noise that would give her away; it made for slow going at certain points.
There’s got to be another way to get in…jackpot!
There was a window about six feet off of the ground; the pane of glass was hung on a vertical pivot, and it was open. It only took her a few moments to find what she needed; a wooden pallet and an empty 55-gallon drum. She moved the pallet under the window, then stacked the drum on top. With a few grunts of effort, she was able to scramble over the top of the drum; it was stable enough that she could stand on it without needing to balance too much. It was hard for her to button down on her excitement and nervousness; she couldn’t afford either right now, if she wanted to keep from getting caught. Standing to her full height on top of the barrel, she was able to see past the bottom windowsill and into the warehouse.

Luckily, there seemed to be a stack of crates right below the window on the other side; she wouldn’t have to gather anything to get back out, just hop up on those and back out the way she had come.

She realized immediately that this place was a lot older than it looked on the outside. Instead of having steel I-beams holding up the roof and as roof construction, it had massive wooden beams holding up the wooden ceiling two stories above. She’d only seen something like that once, when she’d visited a school friend whose family lived in a converted warehouse loft in Dumbo. The friend said that the building dated to around 1900, maybe earlier, long before steel-framed buildings were the usual thing even in New York. There were cone-shaped light fixtures dangling on long wires coming down from the center of the roofline. From the dim, yellow light they cast, she guessed that they were old-fashioned incandescent bulbs, not fluorescent. The floor was poured cement, now cracked everywhere. An angle beam right next to her led up to overhead support beams.
Now, if I just had superpowers, I could climb right up there like a monkey and see everything…
Stupid thought, even if she
could
climb the slanting beam, she’d probably fall off if she tried to scramble around the upper structure.