Casters Series Box Set Page 38

  McKenzie turned around, facing the class with the red-rimmed glare that was becoming his norm. He scanned the crowd of suddenly attentive pupils. Maryanne sat up a little straighter herself, nodding in that ‘oh-yeah-I-get-it’ way and hoping he wouldn’t call on her. McKenzie had a habit of calling on the kids who looked lost and scared. His eyes darted past her. They usually did these days. It still sickened her, literally, to think of what had happened between them. The creep had kept her after school one day and hit on her. She’d run off, of course. Though she’d told no one but Alex and Brooke, he had to be wondering if, or when, she’d tell someone in authority…

  “Ms. Gravelle,” McKenzie finally said, settling on the strange, tree-hugging scholarship student. “What’s the area of this enclosure?” He snapped the pointer on the board.

  Ty Piper sat up in his chair as his new girlfriend was grilled by the teacher.

  Brynna. That was her name. Brynna Gravelle. Nice enough girl, Maryanne supposed, but strange. The buzz was that she communicated with trees, which of course was where the tree hugger moniker came from. She was also smart as hell, the biggest grade junkie Maryanne had ever seen. And totally into that Ty Piper. Go figure.

  As if she’d known Maryanne was staring, Tree Hugger turned around to catch her gaze, leaving McKenzie hanging for a moment. Thin lipped, she nodded at Maryanne.

  Maryanne looked down at her page as Brynna answered the question. Correctly.

  “Lucky guess, Ms. Gravelle,” McKenzie grated. He continued, finding his next potential victim, a particularly pale-faced, skinny girl trying to hide herself at the back of the room. “Miss Thibault, looking at this equation,”—there was that snap of the pointer again—“give me the possible values of X.”

  Maryanne tuned him out. She tuned it all out, except for the voice ringing in her head…

  It was all around her this morning.

  “Me-anne! Me-anne! Me-Anne!”

  That was Jason calling her name. Her J-Bug. The baby brother who’d strangled to death in his room when she was too damn lazy to go to him.

  No. She hadn’t known he was in trouble. He’d been fussing all evening, and she’d been at her wits’ end trying to console him. When she’d finally put him to bed, he’d cried in earnest. She’d been waiting him out, figuring he’d tire himself out eventually and go to sleep. She’d thought it was just the teething, but he’d strangled to death on the cords of the window blind. For God’s sake, his crib had been positioned a good two feet from the nearest window. How could she have known that the brakes on the rolling casters hadn’t been reset the last time her dad had moved it to clean the floor? When she’d failed to come to him, Jason must have thrown himself down in a tantrum, and discovered he could make the crib move.

  Yeah, it was her dad who’d failed to set the brakes, but it was her fault Jason had died. She was responsible. Because, God help her, at one point, she’d had a niggling feeling that she should go check on him. She’d ignored it, certain that if he saw her, it would only extend the crying spell.

  Yes, she owned that death. And that death was owning her. It always would.

  Now more than ever. J-bug called again. “Me-anne!”

  Maryanne closed her eyes to the crying voice.

  It had started just after she’d returned from Burlington, where she’d spent a lonesome Christmas break. At first she wasn’t even sure what she was hearing. Or that she was hearing anything. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Then the voice started waking her up at night, slipping into her sleep. By then, she was sure it was her baby brother crying out to her.

  She had been slowly dying of guilt since Jason’s death. Her only reprieve had come from casting. Since the very first time she’d cast out with the other girls, it had become her escape. Out there, the guilt, the pain, and the grief that weighed her down just slipped from her shoulders. And that freedom from guilt carried over for hours after they’d cast back in. Small wonder she was so totally into it. Craved it. For these past weeks and months, she couldn’t wait to tap out that window every chance they got.

  Then the voice had followed her into the night, even as she cast.

  Maryanne had hoped last night would be different, but it hadn’t been.

  She and Brooke and Alex had cast out and gone over to the Walker farm, hoping to get their hands on Ira Walker’s journals. They hadn’t, and coming upon Bryce Walker pounding long nails into the shed had been scary enough. The look on his face—that angry determination. Oh, the hatred! There’d been a madness there. An Ira Walker madness coming through on the face of his grandson.

  And she’d heard the voice calling loudest then. As if Jason wanted to increase her fear, her pain, in that dark hour.

  So now she knew there was no reprieve for her, not even in casting. No refuge left. It was all a living hell now—all the hours of her life.

  She felt a tear slide past her tightly closed eyelids and roll down her cheek just as the bell rang. Maryanne sat there, feeling the rush of students filing past her. Hearing the rustling of pages and snapping of binders, the squeak and shuffle of sneakered feet down the aisle. Then there was a hand on her shoulder.

  Startled, Maryanne looked up.

  Oh geez, Tree Hugger. Ty Piper’s girlfriend. What the heck could she want? Unless…oh, please, no!

  Ty had been pursuing Maryanne before Christmas. Completely unprepared for an approach from the tall, quiet farm boy, her rejection had been a little clumsy. Okay, a lot clumsy. Ty’s reaction had not been good. As Brooke and Alex would put it, he’d made a complete ass of himself. Was Brynna Gravelle going to take her to task now for injuring Ty’s pride?

  “Hey, are you okay?” Brynna asked.

  At the concern lining Brynna’s face, Maryanne knew this had nothing to do with Ty.

  “Yeah, I’m…I’m okay.” She smiled, hoping she didn’t have a big tear streak down the side of her face to make a liar of her.

  Brynna held her gaze for a few long seconds, then nodded and walked toward the door.

  At the front of the room, McKenize pulled a hand down his haggard face as the students filed out. He didn’t seem to notice Maryanne still sitting there as the classroom emptied. She was about to get up—the last thing she needed was another run-in with that creep—but he stalked toward the door as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there, hitting the light switch on the way out.

  Me-annnnnne. The voice was drawn out, and faded away now.

  It would return. She knew it would.

  For minutes, she sat in the darkened room. The second bell rang, the one that indicated she should be in English class. She’d skip it. She’d sit it out here. Second period was McKenzie’s spare, she knew, so his classroom should be empty for a while. And if he came back, she’d find somewhere else to hide. She just couldn’t think of anything except that voice. Couldn’t bear to sit surrounded by other kids, trying to act normal while her dead baby brother was calling to her.

  No, not just calling to her. Jason was haunting her for what she’d done to him.

  “I’m so sorry, J-Bug,” she whispered.

  Chapter 10

  Stormy Night

  Alex

  Alex made her way back from the bathroom, feeling naked as she always did without her dark eye makeup. Not that there was anyone to see besides Brooke and Maryanne. It was only ten o’clock, but most of Harvell’s occupants were either closed up in their own bedrooms or had no intention of returning until the last possible moment before curfew.

  They’d decided not to cast out tonight. Rumors were flying. People were watching the night in hopes, or fear, of seeing a Heller. Despite how careful they’d been, half-crazy Melissa Kosnick wasn’t the only one whispering about seeing the soul-stealing black ghosts. There were no objections to staying in tonight, not even from Maryanne. Oddly, Maryanne had been the one to suggest taking the night off.

  That worried Alex more than it should have.

  Something was going on with that girl.
Something big. Though she kept it to herself, Alex remembered bits and pieces of what had been said to her while she’d lain there in that hospital bed, comatose. Big things and little things. Maryanne had told her something huge, she was sure of it. Something that her caster sister couldn’t bring herself to share any other time. She was equally sure that whatever was going on with Maryanne now had something to do with that dark secret.

  They all had their dark secrets. And each one of them had their pain.

  Both Maryanne and Brooke looked up when she entered the room.

  “About time,” Brooke said, bending to light a candle. Candles in the bedrooms were definitely against the rules. Alex almost laughed at the thought. Of all the rules they’d broken, this was pretty minor. Maryanne raised a window a crack. The open window brought cool night air with it, and a breeze that danced the little flame around the burning candlewick as Brooke crossed the room and set the candle in the middle of the floor. Cross-legged, they all sat on the floor around it. This was the other reason they weren’t casting out tonight. They needed to have a serious talk.

  Maryanne snapped her cell open, checked it, then snapped it closed again a half minute later, with a satisfied look on her face.

  “Text from lover boy?” Brooke asked.

  “His team had a hockey game against Oromocto High this evening. He and Huxley were driving down and he said he’d text me when he got back home. He just did. They won—3 to 1.”

  “Oh yay,” Brooke drawled. “Go team! Now we can all rest easy.”

  “I wasn’t worried about whether they won or lost,” Maryanne snapped. “You might have noticed it stormed out there earlier. I was just worried about them making it back safely. Is that a crime, Brooke?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Thanks for asking my opinion. It absolutely is a crime. Against all of us. You’re a caster. Bryce is a Walker and that makes him—”

  “Oh, I get it,” Maryanne seethed. “Him being a Walker makes him the freakin’ Antichrist in your mind!”

  “Close enough! It makes him a hunter. He hunts us. What don’t you get about that, Maryanne?”

  “Cut it out!” Alex commanded. “Both of you.”

  Oh, man, she’d had enough of this. Actually, she’d had enough a few hours ago. Bryce had called just after supper, asking Maryanne out on the coming weekend. His folks were going out to visit friends at Davidson Lake. They were staying overnight rather than assigning one of them as the designated driver on the narrow lakeside roads. It was the first time Howard and Hannah Walker had been out socializing since Seth had been killed. They’d asked Bryce to stay home and keep an eye on things, particularly the new foal. So Bryce had phoned to see if Maryanne wanted to come over for a homemade dinner and a movie at Casa Walker.

  She’d jumped at the invitation.

  Brooke huffed. “Come on, Alex. Where are those den mother instincts you seem to have developed? You should be jumping all over her.”

  Den mother? Ouch. Alex could just picture her Halifax friends’ faces if they heard that! Or the Halifax police. Brooke was right though. She had changed this year. What she’d suffered at the hands of C.W. Stanley had changed her. Scared her. And made her scared for her friends, too. She knew the bad that was out there. Her hand went automatically to her chest to smooth the new vines tattooed there.

  “I mean, you saw Bryce the other night, driving those spikes into the wall,” Brooke continued. “He’s dangerous. You heard him the other time we were out there, swearing he’d kill us. This is serious shit!”

  “Very serious,” Maryanne said. She too looked over at Alex. “I’m serious about Bryce. He’s fun and sweet…and not just a hunter. And you know what else—”

  “He’s a Walker!” The candle flame flickered with Brooke’s exasperated breath.

  “So was Seth!” Maryanne shot back.

  Brooke’s eyes widened as if Maryanne had just slapped her. She looked cut to the core. But only for a split-second. Then she was wearing that look again, the narrowed eyes and slow, screw-you smile. “Yeah, but Seth’s dead. Remember, Maryanne? Trampled by the horses we scared out of their minds. See what happens when hunters mess with Hellers? Someone gets hurt. Or worse. Someone always gets hurt. It’s dangerous for you.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” Maryanne was trying to be strong, but her voice quavered now, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Something in Maryanne’s tone made Alex flash back to the first time she’d cast out. Hovering outside the attic window, she’d seen Maryanne handling Connie’s diary and went ballistic. The instant she’d blasted back into her body, with a rush of adrenaline and force she’d not yet learned to control, Alex had wrapped her hands around Maryanne’s throat. Maryanne had looked up pleadingly from beneath Alex’s choking grip, but she hadn’t been pleading for her life. She’d been pleading for death. “Do it.”

  “Okay, guys, that’s enough!” Alex snapped. “We’re all in this together.”

  “Exactly! Tell her, Alex,” Maryanne said. Obviously, she thought Alex was on her side.

  Brooke must have too. She huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Okay, Brooke, Maryanne’s right. She’s going out with Bryce the guy, not the hunter. And he doesn’t know she’s a caster. He doesn’t know any of us are.”

  “As far as we know.” Brooke reminded them.

  She had a point. They’d already gone over that possibility, that Seth might have told Bryce of his suspicions. “Yeah,” Alex conceded, “as far as we know.” She turned to Maryanne. “And Brooke’s right on that, Maryanne. Like it or not, Bryce is Ira Walker’s grandson, hell bent on hurting us—or worse.”

  Alex ran a hand through her hair, waiting for some response. At least the two of them were quiet now. Not at each other’s throats—for the moment.

  “So whose side are you on then?” Maryanne asked.

  “Yeah,” Brooke said. “Whose side?”

  Alex groaned. “There’s no side here. We’re in this together. Soaring sisters. Are we really going to get this bent out of shape over some guy?”

  “He’s not just some guy. He’s…Bryce,” Maryanne said.

  “He’s a Walker,” Brooke answered.

  Alex feared they’d go at it again, but they just looked at each other as though they were trying to find some common ground. Truly trying.

  “Okay, here’s what I think.” Alex readjusted herself on the floor. “Maryanne is going to go out with Bryce, she’s made that clear.” Alex raised a hand, stopping Brooke’s obvious intent to interject. “But Maryanne, you should know Brooke and I are going to worry about you.”

  “Damn right,” Brooke said. “So you’ve got to tell us where you guys are going, always. And stick with the plan: when you’ll be back, what you’ll be doing, who you’ll be with. All the little details just in case something goes wrong. And if it does…we’re coming after you.”

  Maryanne shrugged. “That’s not unreasonable, I guess. For now, anyway.”

  “One more thing,” Alex drew a breath, because here’s where it got tricky. Here’s where it really got dangerous. “You have to find out what Bryce knows. What weapons he may have to hurt us. Because this isn’t just about you, Maryanne.”

  “I understand.” she said. “I’ll find out everything I can.”

  “And be careful,” Brooke said. “Stay safe.”

  Alex didn’t like the look Maryanne gave back to Brooke just then. Nor the long hesitation that came before that subtle nod.

  Safe was the farthest thing from Maryanne Hemlock’s mind—Alex just knew it.

  And it was Maryanne who leaned forward and blew out the candle.

  Chapter 11

  Alone

  Brooke

  Brooke closed the bathroom door. Taking her towel, she rolled it up into a tube, then wadded it into the big crack under the door. There. It should be somewhat soundproof. Apart from the attic, this was about as private a spot as she could find in the crowded Harvell House. If it hadn
’t been so cold out, she’d have bundled up and gone outside, but this would do.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket, lowered the toilet seat cover and sat. Then she hit speed dial. It rang and rang. Brooke could picture her mother looking at the call display, imagined that slight puckering of her brow and thinning of her lips as she recognized the number, debated whether or not to…

  “Hello?”

  Brooke’s throat threatened to close at the sound of her mother’s voice. She swallowed. “Hey, it’s me. Brooke.”

  “Brooke. I’m surprised you called.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?” She chewed her thumbnail.

  “I think you know why,” she said mildly. “And you’re lucky it wasn’t Kendall who answered. He’s still very upset.”

  Yeah, well so am I, she thought. But she said, “Are you kidding? He’s bent out of shape about a little booze?”

  “Not a little, Brooke. And you’re underage. He’s a police officer. You know what a bad position this kind of thing could put him in. Not to mention me. It could make things awkward for me in my job as a prosecutor, too, don’t you think?”

  And how about the position you left me in, all by myself over Christmas?

  She snorted. “Come on, mom, I’m not the first kid to have ever raided the liquor cabinet. It’s not like I went out and got myself arrested or anything.”

  In the pause that followed, Brooke heard what her mother didn’t say. Not yet.

  Finally, Gracie Saunders spoke. “I know, darling, but with that…incident…that happened up there last fall… Well, you really need to keep your nose clean, sweetie.”

  Brooke sucked in a breath through her teeth. “That was self-defense, Mother. That lunatic was going to kill us!”

  “I know,” her mother rushed to say. “I know you did nothing wrong. But darling, if you and those Canadian girls hadn’t been trying to solve a mystery on your own, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. If you had simply called the authorities with your suspicions instead of digging up corpses in that basement, then—”