Casters Series Box Set Page 35

Yeah, she’d messed up.

  The threats—the promises—that Bryce Walker had screamed after them scared the crap out of her. No doubt she’d be playing them over and over in her mind for days to come.

  But that wasn’t wholly why Maryanne lay there, covering her eyes, clinging desperately to the reprieve—the escape—that casting always provided as it slipped away. Not even close to wholly why.

  She’d heard it.

  She’d heard her name clear as anything—more clearly than she’d ever heard it in her life before—as she’d cast back in. Heard it three times, in fact, between blasting back in and coming to a stop on the floor.

  It wasn’t a memory tugging at her. It wasn’t a mere flashback. No, she’d heard her name, the shortened, baby soft version of it.

  Me-anne, Me-anne, Me-anne!

  She’d heard her J-bug calling.

  Chapter 5

  Holding Court

  Brooke

  The mood in the food court changed as Brooke, Maryanne, and Alex crossed the mall’s tiled floor. The other girls’ running shoes were pretty much soundless on the tiles, but Brooke’s cowboy boots made a nice clumping sound. The din from the lunch hour crowd dropped off as kids elbowed each other and jerked their heads in her direction. Soon all eyes were on them.

  Perfect.

  She put a smile on her lips and some extra sway in her hips as they crossed the last few feet to stop in front of the sub shop.

  Maryanne ducked her head, clearly not pleased to be the center of attention. “Oh, man, is there anyone in this mall who isn’t staring at us right now?”

  “Hey, they’re gawking at Brooke, not us,” Alex said, seemingly unconcerned. “She’s the one who wielded the shovel, remember?”

  “Wielded.” Brooke’s smile widened. “Good word. I like it.”

  In fact, it had been the corpse of the long-dead Connie Harvell who’d swung the shovel that had killed C.W. Stanley. He’d had it coming, though. After all, he and his father had put Connie in that grave fifty years ago, where she’d lain until the girls had dug her up. Until Connie’s cast, shut out of her body for so many years, reunited with her remains, reanimating them long enough to crush C.W.’s skull, saving Maryanne and Brooke in the process. Of course, they couldn’t exactly tell the cops the skeleton did it, so Brooke had stepped up and claimed responsibility. The glory.

  The legend.

  Maryanne twisted the strap on her purse. “I wonder if it’s fear or fascination?”

  “Both,” came a voice from behind.

  Brooke turned to see Dani Mann descending on them. Well, at least one person wasn’t afraid to talk to them. Which was good. Dani knew everything that went on in Mansbridge, and she loved to talk.

  “Hey, Dani,” Alex said.

  “Hey, yourself. Good to see you back on your feet.” Dani looked Alex up and down. “You look great, by the way.”

  Alex laughed darkly. “For someone who just got out of the hospital recently, you mean?”

  Dani cocked her head, studying Alex’s face. “Nah. You just look…better.”

  Alex shrugged. “Well, you know what they say. Nothing like a good old-fashioned coma to catch you up on your beauty sleep.”

  Dani snorted.

  Brooke glanced at the crowd. The kids seemed to have gone back to whatever they’d been doing before, and the noise level rose accordingly, but she was pretty sure they were still keeping half an eye on her.

  “So, fascination and fear both, huh?” Brooke said, hoping Dani would pick up the thread.

  “Yep.” Dani took a sip of her fountain pop. “I mean, everyone knows you’re the hero. There’s no question about that. You saved yourself and Maryanne from that creep, Mr. Stanley, right? They’re in complete awe of you. Some of them are kind of scared of you, too.”

  “And by ‘some of them’ you mean the guys.”

  Dani flashed her crooked grin. “Yeah, guys, mainly. Scared you might crack their thick skulls if they make a wrong move.”

  Oh, that was priceless! “Well, you can assure them, Dani, that I’d never do that. I’d far sooner bust their balls.”

  Dani’s delighted laugh rang out, drawing every eye in the food court. “I’m sure they’ll find that vastly reassuring.” She took another sip of her pop. “Of course, there is a small contingent of guys who don’t seem too intimidated. In fact, I’d say they’re pretty turned on by the whole thing.”

  “Which guys?” Brooke’s eyes automatically scanned the crowd.

  “You’ll see soon enough. Give it a few days and they’ll come knocking.”

  Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Oh, honey, I don’t think so. Not with that nasty HPV thing I’ve got going on. Haven’t you heard?”

  “Oh, I’ve heard.” Dani smiled, as Brooke had intended, but her eyes darkened. “I also heard that rumor has been disproved. Seth made sure everyone knew it wasn’t true.”

  They were talking about Seth Walker, of course. After he’d abandoned Brooke, she’d told his friends he’d given her an STD. His new girl, Melissa Kosnick, couldn’t get away fast enough. But she hadn’t stayed away, had she?

  And now Seth was dead, trampled to death by his own horses. But it was his own damned fault. If he hadn’t been such a callous bastard to her, things would have been different. He wouldn’t have died like that—

  “Well, nice talking to you, guys. Gotta jet.”

  As quickly as she’d descended on them, Dani was gone again, crossing the food court to wrap her arms around Huxley, her hockey-loving boyfriend.

  “Do you think we could order now?” Maryanne grumbled. “I missed breakfast and I’m starving.”

  “My treat.” Brooke pulled a fifty dollar bill from the pocket of her new Boyfriend jeans, which her mother had bought her for Christmas. Not that her mother knew it yet. “I’ll pay if someone else wants to stand in line.”

  Alex snatched the bill. “I’ll do it. You always forget the jalapenos and Maryanne always gets them to put it on whole wheat.”

  “Hey, whole wheat is—”

  “Good for me. I know. Sit, and I’ll bring the food.”

  “Okay, but remember to get mine on—”

  “Yeah, yeah, whole wheat.”

  Alex strode up to the counter to place the order, and Brooke and Maryanne found a table.

  Maryanne hooked her bag on a chair and sat down. “This doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”

  Brooke sat down opposite her. “What? The gawking? The talking?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pulled an emery board out of her purse before settling the bag on the floor between her feet. “Not a bit.”

  “Oh, man, I wish I had half your—”

  “Half my what?” She glanced up from her nails to see Maryanne’s face had frozen into an expression of…what? Fear? Excitement? She followed her gaze to see Bryce Walker enter the mall. She watched him scan the area and head for the food court. Oh, crap, he was headed for them. “What’s he coming over here for? Do you think he knows?”

  “Knows what?” Maryanne looked at Brooke, her eyes wide.

  “Duh. That it was us last night. What else could I be talking about?”

  “Of course he doesn’t know.” Maryanne turned away. “How could he?”

  “Then why’s he coming over here?” Brooke fumed. “He knows I hate his guts.”

  “Why is that?” Maryanne’s gaze flickered back to Brooke’s face, then back to Bryce, who had crossed the open space and was nearing the food court. “I mean, beyond the hunter thing, which you can’t really hold against him since he doesn’t know he’s hunting us.”

  “Same reason he hates my guts,” she muttered. “We didn’t see eye to eye about my relationship with Seth.”

  Bryce had drawn to within a table of them now, so Brooke shut up.

  He stopped beside them. “Hey, Maryanne.”

  “Hey, Bryce.”

  Brooke looked from Maryanne’s glowing face to Bryce’s. It hit her out of nowhere, like a
kick in the chest. Standing there like that with that look on his face that said you’re just the person I needed to see right now; he looked so much like his brother. Like Seth used to look when he still cared about her. Suddenly, her throat ached.

  Bryce turned toward her, his face hardening. “Brooke.”

  She gave him a terse nod, not trusting her voice.

  He swiveled back to Maryanne. “Can we talk for a sec?”

  “Sure. Have a seat.” Maryanne’s face grew even rosier.

  His eyes flicked to Brooke, then back to Maryanne. “Take a walk with me?”

  “Oh.” Maryanne blinked. “Oh, sure.” She stood. “Watch my purse, Brooke?”

  Smart move, Maryanne letting him know she planned to rejoin her girlfriends. Making it clear she might be going off with him for a minute, but not going off-off with him.

  “No problem,” Brooke said. As they moved away, she called after them, “Don’t dawdle! Food’ll be here soon, and we have to be back at school in half an hour.”

  “Gotcha,” Maryanne said as Bryce guided her away from the food court.

  Great. Just freakin’ great.

  Well, at least she understood Maryanne’s confusion a moment ago. She’d been concerned whether Bryce knew she was totally crushing on him.

  And yeah, Brooke was pretty sure he knew.

  This was not going to end well.

  Chapter 6

  Date Night

  Maryanne

  “Stay put,” Bryce said. “I’ll get your door.”

  Maryanne was sitting in the passenger seat of Bryce’s F250 outside the cinema, watching as he got out and started to walk around the truck. She was smiling. Or rather, smiling still.

  Bryce had picked her up at exactly seven. Mrs. Betts had answered the door, in accordance with the new rules. She personally met all the guys who came calling at Harvell House. Of course, most of the house’s female population gathered behind her as she opened the door. That wasn’t a rule so much as a gag with the girls—lining up as dates arrived to check them out. And they’d certainly checked out Bryce Walker!

  She wished she’d thought to warn him about the welcoming committee. He’d looked more than a little taken aback by all that female attention, at least until he’d looked up and saw her descending the stairs. Maybe she was being silly, but she thought once their eyes met, he seemed to forget about the audience. The look on his face made her grateful she’d taken some pains to look good tonight.

  She’d tried a dozen outfits before settling on her least baggy jeans and a soft, misty rose sweater. A Christmas gift from her mother, the sweater hugged her in all the huggable places. And instead of tying her hair up in the usual ponytail, she wore it down around her shoulders. She also wore earrings—small silver hoops that were also a Christmas gift. She’d never look as sophisticated as Brooke or as cool as Alex, but when Bryce’s gaze had locked onto hers, she’d decided that was quite okay.

  Bryce opened her door and held out a hand. “Step on the running board and I’ll help you down.”

  She did as he instructed, feeling dwarfed by both the size of the hand that swallowed hers and the size of this honking big truck.

  “Think you can hop down, or would you like me to lift you?”

  The idea of his hands at her waist was appealing. Too appealing. “I can jump.”

  He released her hand when she was safely on the ground, and she missed its warmth as he closed the door and locked the truck. It was just as well. Hand-holding at the very outset of a first date was more PDA than she was comfortable with. Besides, she didn’t want it getting back to Brooke and Alex that they’d been all lovey-dovey. Her friends had made it clear what they thought of her going out on a date with Bryce.

  “Are you packing protection?” Brooke had asked as Maryanne had readied herself earlier.

  “Brooke!” Maryanne had taken the damp towel from around her freshly-washed hair and tossed it at Brooke. “Like that will be happening.”

  Brooke caught the towel and rolled her eyes. “You and that dirty mind of yours. I meant mace. Pepper spray. Stun gun.”

  Maryanne turned to Alex. “You’re not going help me out on this one, are you?”

  Alex shrugged. “Pepper spray wouldn’t hurt.”

  Maryanne had groaned, but she hadn’t backed down. She understood her friends’ concerns. Bryce had demonstrated his commitment to taking over where his grandfather Ira had left off. But Bryce, the guy, was different from Bryce, the Heller hunter, just as Maryanne, the girl, was different from Maryanne, the caster. And Bryce, the guy, just had to look at her to send tingles of awareness all over her body.

  They’d already agreed on a movie—a romantic comedy. She was pretty sure he’d rather see the newest X-Men spinoff, and frankly she’d rather see the five hanky tear-jerker, but the Steve Carell rom-com seemed a good bet. They’d already bought their tickets and popcorn when Bryce’s cell phone went off.

  “Here, give me that so you can get it.” She gestured to his extra-large popcorn.

  He handed it to her and answered his phone. From his side of the conversation, she quickly understood they wouldn’t be seeing a movie tonight.

  He closed his phone and grimaced. “That was Dad. Something’s come up back at the farm. I have to go, but you should stay here, take in the movie.” He took his popcorn back so she wouldn’t have to juggle it. “I’ll give you cab fare to get home.”

  “No!” She rejected the idea instantly. She could imagine how that would go over back at Harvell—leave with your hunky date, come home in a cab. “I don’t want to see the movie without you.”

  “Oh.” He seemed to be thinking about her words, as though they carried some complicated message he had to decode. “I could take you home, then.”

  Okay, the only thing that would look worse than going home in a cab two hours from now would be getting dumped back at Harvell House’s doorstep twenty minutes after getting picked up.

  What was going on back there at the farm anyway? Her heart jolted as a thought occurred to her. Had there been a caster sighting? It was hardly dark enough. Surely Brooke and Alex wouldn’t chance it… Well, Alex wouldn’t. Brooke might.

  “Bryce, what’s going on? Why do you have to hurry home?”

  “A mare is getting ready to foal. Dad’s not really up for that anymore, so I need to be there.”

  Maryanne practically wilted with relief. “Oh, that’s so cool. Could I…could I maybe come?”

  His eyes lit up. “You want to?”

  She smiled. “I’d love to.”

  “It can get a little messy,” he warned.

  “I think I can handle it.”

  He grinned. “Let’s go, then.”

  They handed off their untouched popcorn and beverages to a grateful mother and daughter in the concession line and took off. Fourteen minutes later, they pulled up beside the horse barn. This time, she jacked the door open herself rather than waiting for him to do it, but he came around to her side anyway. She slid down to the running board, took his hand and hopped out. He held onto her hand as they dashed for the barn, but released it the moment they stepped inside.

  “Sorry to break up your date, son, but—” Mr. Walker’s words broke off when he saw Maryanne file in behind Bryce. “Oh, I see you brought her with you.”

  Bryce made the introductions as they shed their outdoor coats. Maryanne shook Howard Walker’s hand, the grief still fresh in those blue eyes striking her. So close to the surface. Then he turned away to bring Bryce up to date on the mare’s labour.

  “I got this, Dad. Why don’t you go back up to the house? I’ll call if I need help.”

  The senior Walker’s relief was palpable. “If you’re sure, son.”

  “I’m sure.” Bryce handed his father the parka that hung from a nearby hook.

  When the door closed behind him, Bryce sighed, “He can’t stand to be out here now.” He met her eyes briefly before glancing away. “Ever since Seth… Ever since the accid
ent, he finds it hard to be around the horses. I felt bad asking him to check on Leila tonight, but I knew she was close.”

  Without thinking about it, Maryanne put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Bryce.”

  The muscles of his arm flexed under her hand.

  With a mumbled, “Thanks,” he moved away and she dropped her arm back to her side.

  “Wait here,” he said before he disappeared into another room.

  She stood there, hands stuffed awkwardly in her jacket pockets, feeling horrible. Seth had been trampled to death by one of the horses. A horse they’d terrified out of its wits by riding it in caster form. Obviously, they hadn’t intended for anyone to get hurt, but guilt balled in her stomach like lead.

  Bryce came back with a step stool, which he plunked down beside the box stall. “Hop up on that,” he said. “We’ll have front row seats while Leila does all the work.”

  She climbed on the stool, which enabled her to see into the stall. The mare lay on a fresh bed of clean-smelling straw, her sides rising and falling with her quick respirations.

  “Is she okay?”

  Bryce moved to stand beside her. “She’s good so far. See? Both front legs are out already. It should be over in under an hour.”

  The mare made a snorting noise and started to strain, and Maryanne saw the foal’s nose and face appear, only to retreat when the horse stopped pushing. She turned to Bryce. “Did you see that? The baby’s face?”

  He grinned. “I saw it.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, the mare alternated between resting and straining, and Maryanne felt for her when she vocalized her efforts with groans and grunts. When birth was imminent, Bryce let himself into the stall. Finally, the foal slid from her. Both mother and baby lay there on the straw, exhausted. Bryce quickly cut the amniotic sack and pushed it free of the foal’s face. When he was sure it was breathing, he withdrew to stand with Maryanne again.

  “Believe it or not, this is a critical time,” Bryce whispered, as if he didn’t want to disturb the pair. “We want them both to lie relatively quiet for the next five or ten minutes. Mom is transferring blood to the foal through the umbilical cord. If either gets up too soon and the cord is broken, we could have a lot of bleeding.”