T*Witches: Split Decision (4 page)

The sun god. Apollo. The one she’d been named for, the one that held the key to her earliest powers.

“And then to carry the dead across the water —”

Cam squinted up at her mother, trying to understand what Miranda was talking about.

“But perhaps your friend didn’t know that particular legend. And, of course, they’re not all about death and chaos. There are so many tales and myths of the magical power of horses,” her mother quickly backpedaled. “Stallions tamed are said to become talismans of strength and virility. Some believe that the imprint of a horse’s footprint is a symbol of power. Another superstition has it that to possess a horseshoe is good luck, that it means you are under its protection —”

A horseshoe — like Shane’s crystal pendant…

Miranda picked up her gardening tools and walked with Cam back to the house to get ready for dinner. As they passed through the massive doors, Cam thought she heard her mother say, “The time has come to tell them. Ileana is going to have to cut her vacation short.”

“Tell who what?” Cam asked without thinking.

Miranda seemed startled. “I didn’t say anything,” she said.

CHAPTER SIX

BREAKING THE RULES

Alex had made a rule. She would not break into Cade’s head. She wanted a real relationship with him, a normal relationship. Which meant no mind reading. Except in an emergency.

She owed the baffled boy an explanation for her bizarro behavior, something believable and forgivable. What she didn’t know was exactly how freaked he was, or if he still wanted a relationship with the wacko he now probably thought she was.

The quickest way to his heart, she rationalized, was through his brain. If this didn’t qualify as a 911, what did?

Immediately after promising Michaelina that she’d give the persistent pixie one last chance at friendship,
Alex had biked back to the Heights, to the imposing house where Cade was hanging for the summer.

A thirty-something woman wearing pearls with her silk sweater set and color-coordinated slacks met her at the door. “Alex?” the utter stranger said, her hand rushing to her throat as if to choke off the next line on her mind, which was,
This can’t be the girl Cade has been brooding about.

Alex looked at herself. She hadn’t stopped to consider what she must look like. After two long bike rides in one humidity-drenched day, she was not a pretty sight. Her shirt was sticky with sweat. She ran a hand through her hair, confirming the worst — lavender-streaked layers were in a total tangle. As for the eye makeup she never wore — except for today when she’d raided Cam’s cabinet — it had undoubtedly smeared and left her with rank raccoon eyes. Alex tried to swab away the mess, then mindlessly wiped her mascara-smudged hand on her already rancid T-shirt.

The woman at the door winced. A nanosecond later her shocked expression changed to a welcoming smile. “How rude of me. I’m Moira McDonald,” she announced. “Cade’s out back, on the deck. He’s been quiet since he got back, but I have a feeling he’s been hoping you’d show up. Why don’t you come in and wash up first? I’ll lend you a top.”

“That’d be great,” Alex said, hoping she sounded grateful. But as she followed Cade’s keeper up the stairs, she wondered uneasily if the top would be silk — or worse, pink?

It turned out to be a skinny black tee, which she slipped into distractedly, because through the guest room window she spotted Cade. And Alex did what she’d told herself she wouldn’t. Like a burglar listening for the clicks of a combination lock, she closed her eyes and strained to catch his thoughts.

In spite of the CD player on his lap and the headset parting his sleek black hair, the buff boy was stressing. About her! Even as she listened in she could feel her cheeks begin to burn.
Why’d she do that,
Cade was thinking.
She led me on, then freaked when I tried to kiss her. I just don’t get it. Unless … oh, man, maybe she was really sick — a manic-depressive or something — upbeat one minute, scared and suspicious the next? She might have needed help instead of someone booking on her. I could have stayed. But what if she meant to blow me off?

Alex abandoned her spy post and hurried down to him.

With the headset clamped in place, he hadn’t heard her coming out and turned, startled, when she tapped him on the shoulder. Relief and joy played across his
handsome face, followed by a quizzical look. “Insanity? That’s your defense?”

Her fragile confidence crumbled until Cade pointed to the T-shirt she was wearing, the one Moira-with-the-pearls had given her. It said,
INSANITY IS HEREDITARY. YOU GET IT FROM YOUR CHILDREN.

Alex managed a nervous laugh. “Would temporary insanity work for you?” she asked hopefully.

Cade’s laugh was as edgy as hers. And about as desperately hopeful. He moved over and made room for her on the slatted lounge. “Listen, Alex,” he began, when she sat beside him, “I probably shouldn’t have bolted like that —” He reached for her hand, which she gave awkwardly, and she listened, with mingled guilt and gratitude, as he told her, practically word for word, the thoughts she’d eavesdropped on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t hang around to find out what was really going on,” he ended, looking at her questioningly. Expecting an explanation.

Alex desperately wanted to tell him the truth. She could practically taste the words, hear them as they tumbled from her mouth. But she said nothing.

“You got scared, was that it?” he prompted. “That’s why you pulled away and acted so weird?”

“No, Cade. I wasn’t scared, not really. I just…” Alex paused and took a deep breath. Maybe one day she’d be
able to be totally honest with him. But not today, not now. And yet she didn’t want lie to him, either.

She could, and did, murmur, “It won’t happen again, I promise you.” And when she looked up at him, he leaned toward her.

“So,” she continued very softly, her voice sticking in her throat, “if you’re willing to —”

“Take it from where we left off?” He finished the thought and punctuated it with a long, gentle, soulful kiss. The one she’d been remembering.

“I have a confession,” Cade whispered.

“About why you really came back,” Alex asked, touching her lips, which still held the memory of his and felt as if they were softly vibrating, practically purring.

“You read my mind.”

“Nuh-uh, not this time,” she murmured forgetfully.

He shot her a look, then smiled and explained. Months of convincing and compromising had gone into getting his dad to allow him to come back. Mr. Richman had already made plans for his son. He’d secured Cade a summer internship with a big-deal corporation headquartered in London. The compromise for allowing Cade to return to Marble Bay started tomorrow: a nine-to-five summer gig working with his father’s friend, Moira’s husband, a vice president at a law firm in Boston. “My dad’s got my whole life mapped out,” Cade told her.

“But it’s not what you want?” Alex ventured.

“I don’t know what I want. Maybe I’ll end up on the path he’s clearing for me. But right now, I’ve got to figure some things out for myself.” He didn’t add aloud,
Like you, Alex … like why I needed to see you, wanted to so badly, and whether you… whether you feel… the same way.

Hours later, tired but exhilarated, Alex accepted a lift home.

She and Cade had eaten dinner with the McDonalds and spent the evening playing Trivial Pursuit and making and devouring ice-cream sundaes. Alex had a surprisingly comfortable evening.

She and Cade pulled up to the Barneses’ house just before midnight.

Cade helped get her bike off the rack on the back of the McDonalds’ SUV. “I’ll be off work tomorrow at five,” he reminded her, “so I’ll see you —”

“— at five-oh-one.” Alex gave him a peck on the cheek and a big grin.

She waltzed into the house on a cloud, only to plunge to Earth again when she grabbed the ringing phone. “Where have you been?” demanded the high-strung voice on the other end.

“Uh, hi,” she stammered. “Emily? Is it… late?”

“We’ve been calling for hours!” Cam’s adoptive mom’s panic morphed slowly into relief. “Didn’t you get the messages? We left them at home and on Cam’s cell phone. We were just about to call the …” She trailed off.

“We were really worried.” Dave had taken the phone from his wife. “We thought something had happened.”

“No, no, I’m … we’re both … fine,” Alex assured them. “Cam’s … um … she just stepped into the shower.”

There was silence. Then Dave, who knew of the girls’ true heritage and their enthusiasm for helping and healing, gave her an out. “Were you … needed somewhere?” he asked softly.

“Totally,” Alex concurred. “But everything’s fine now.”

Well, that part was true, she told herself. Cade
had
needed her. And for all she knew Cam
was
stepping into a shower … on Coventry Island.

“Good,” Dave said. “Tell Cam we called. Everything’s good here. It’ll probably be easier to reach us by e-mail than phone. Ask Cam to check in, okay?”

“E-mail.” Alex was on it instantly. She promised them Cam would send a message as soon she got out of the shower.

They would have received one, with Alex pretending
to be her long-gone twin, only Cade called. She never made it to the computer, but fell asleep talking to him instead.

Michaelina flung open the door to her apartment before Alex knocked. “So, can I pass for a mainlander?” she demanded, twirling on toe shoes.

“Dude, you can’t even pass Go,” Alex informed her. Somewhere in the style wilderness of pop divas, Michaelina had gotten very, very lost. Alex was no fashionista, but she did know a disasterpiece when it was in her face. Or in this case, dancing in the doorway of a shabby attic rental apartment.

Multiply pierced and studded, Michaelina had spared no body part in her attempt — or rather, stab — at “mainlander.”

A line of little hoops outlined her ear rims and perforated her left nostril; another, this one spiked like a miniature dog collar, was stuck through one eyebrow. Her thorny tattoo necklace protruded from a stretchy tank top that accented her twiglike frame. Her ankles dangled skinny and pale from pants three sizes too big. Why one leg was cuffed to the knee while the other draped her ankle was anyone’s guess. Whether meant to signify hip-hop, goth, or skater-girl, the effect was nearly as over-the-top as what she’d done with, or to, her face.
Coventry Girl’s makeup — including heavy black eyeliner and thick retro white lipstick — weighed almost more than she did.

All in all, Alex decided, the mainland wanna-be looked like a cross between Nightmare Barbie and a hip-hop L’il Mike.

Fists on her hips, Michaelina pouted. “Who died and left you trend queen?”

Alex shoved her hands in her jean pockets and tried to stifle a laugh. “To answer your original question, if you’re trying to fit in, that would be a resounding no.”

“Who said anything about fitting in? I asked if I could pass for a mainlander. I copied your look.”

“You didn’t copy me, you did a hostile takeover. And BTW, I don’t have ‘a look.’ ” Alex retorted.

“Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” Michaelina turned away sullenly. “There are charms to banish the morning grouchies, you know.”

“Are there any to banish you?” Alex parried.

Michaelina’s shoulders slumped as she faced Alex again. “I thought you’d be flattered,” she muttered. “I was trying to be like you, not follow the crowd.”

“Point taken,” Alex conceded. “We can work with it.”

The micro-witch brightened. “Come in. Check out my new place.”

Alex trailed Mike into her digs, which were oddly
tepee-shaped. Daylight filtered bleakly through the only window, a slanted skylight desperately seeking a scrubbing. “It already feels like home,” Michaelina proudly announced.

“So,
homes
.” Alex purposely accented the word. “What are you really doing here? On the mainland, in this —”

“Hovel?” Michaelina guessed.

“You could put it that way,” Alex responded.

“I never expected you, you of all witches, to diss my digs,” Mike challenged. “You’ve changed. A lot. When did you get all trendoid?”

On the bus ride over,
Alex decided, not caring whether the petite witch picked up the thought. She’d been shocked at the nabe where Mike had chosen to live. Who knew this area existed just outside the pristine Marble Bay, Mass? She was shocked, too, at her own squeamishness as the bus rolled by block after block of burned-out, boarded-up stores, rickety, run-down houses, abandoned cars, and graffiti-sprayed buildings and fences —

“Oh, and that tin-trap of a trailer you grew up in was pure luxury, right?”

Alex was taken aback. Had she ever discussed her pre-Marble Bay life with Michaelina? The canny young witch had done her fact-checking. But why?

“We all have ‘before’ lives, don’t we?” She was smiling when Alex looked at her. “Mine would make your hair stand up — if it wasn’t already spiked to the max. Truce, okay? Can I get you something?”

Alex followed the girl to the farthest corner of the narrow room — and felt as though she’d been kicked in the chest. The kitchen setup — a two-burner stove on a peeling wooden counter and a dismal mini-fridge — was almost identical to the one she’d grown up with in Montana. With Sara.

“This is a dump,” Alex struck out, ignoring the lump in her throat. “But at least it’s aboveground. As opposed to your old address.”

“Ooooh, low blow.” Michaelina pretended to be hurt.

The caves of Coventry Island, underground and undetected, had been the Furies’ cold, barren hideout.

“The truth, Michaelina,” Alex demanded. “Give it up —”

The petite urchin ignored her, opened the half-fridge, and stepped back so that Alex could look inside. “Uh-oh, empty.”

But it wasn’t empty. On the refrigerator shelf stood a jar of peanut butter, one pocked tomato, and a wilted head of lettuce. Exactly what had been in the fridge the day Alex realized that Sara was very, very ill. The same
day she had first glimpsed Cam … Could it possibly be a coincidence? Coincidence or —

“Conspiracy?” Mike chuckled cheerfully. “Get real, Alex. You think I toted this in?” The pixie swung the fridge door shut. “What say we hike down to the deli and grab us a couple of lattes?”

Alex didn’t have to be asked twice. “No more lies,” she demanded after they’d traipsed down the wobbly stairs and hit daylight. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“What’s the use? You won’t believe me. You still don’t trust me,” the diminutive girl answered, taking two steps to keep up with every one of Alex’s. “I came because I thought you were cool. And I wanted to see where and how you lived. And because there’s nothing to keep me on Coventry anymore. After you and your sister skipped out, the gang sorta broke up. Epie’s doing a bid in juvie. Shane’s gone straight. And Sersee’s licking her wounds —”

“And you?” Alex persisted.

“Me?” Mike shrugged. “Okay, coming clean? Nobody wanted me there. Not Sersee or Shane or even my own family — what was left of it.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m an orphan. Or I might as well be. My moms split when me and my sibs were babies. My pops tossed
me out when I was ten. Said I reminded him of Delta, that was my mother’s name. Said I was nothing but trouble and never would be anything else.” Michaelina looked away, but not so fast that Alex couldn’t see the girl’s nose getting red and her eyes misting with tears.