Silence - eARC (10 page)

“Wise man. You said that this Finn character doesn’t like you? And he’s related somehow to this Sean guy, who seems hot to trot for you? Then just keep doing what you’re doing. Hang out with Sean, keep an eye on Finn. Learn what you can, keep your eyes open. Right now we’ve only got one suspect. There’s a whole lot of stuff going down, if you couldn’t tell; the hit on you was just a piece of it. I want to crack the whole coconut open, see what’s squirming around inside.”

Well, that seemed easy enough. “Okay,” she temporized. “I mean, as long as Sean still likes me after this weekend.” Because there was always the chance that the “family business” had been made up just so he could get away from her without disinviting her, and once she was off the estate, she’d never get asked again. “Like, I don’t know if I passed the Blackthorne Test or anything this weekend, so I might never see him again except off in the distance.” She actually felt a lump in her throat as she said that. Everything had been so
perfect
up there, and everything was so gray and gross and
worse
than ordinary down here.

“If he’s elven, or any of his kin are—which I can’t imagine they’re not—then I doubt he’s going to lose interest in you. When he does call, let me know.” He grinned.
“My
cell phone’s got some…extra stuff. Magic. The blank spot around here doesn’t affect it. Your phone will be able to call mine, even down in town.”

As he reached in his pocket and pulled out a little card, like a business card, but with just a phone number on it, she couldn’t help thinking,
His phone works too. Like Sean’s…

“Here, let me see your phone.” Staci fumbled around in her pockets until she was able to produce the cell. Dylan held it lightly in his left hand, focusing intently on it. With his right hand, he started to trace designs in the air; Staci could see a weird afterglow wherever his fingers went, almost like the contrails from jets high overhead. The phone actually started to float up from the palm of his left hand…before it set back down, the designs in the air fading. “There. You’ll be able to get ahold of me, even when you’re in town.”

“So, I can text and get Internet, too?” She felt her hope rising; finally, she wouldn’t have to drag her bike up the Hill every time she wanted to check her email. No more sore calves, no more muddy shoes. No more ambushes by freaky gnome characters.

“Sorry, I’m just a basic, garden-variety magician, not a miracle worker. Think of it more like a connection between our phones, now. But just our phones; no one will be able to listen in, or figure out who you’re talking or texting to.” He paused for a moment, then started fishing around in one of his motorcycle jacket pockets. “There’s something else you should have.”

He handed her a phone charm; one of those things on a thin, wirelike lanyard that you could attach to your phone. She used to have a lot of them, but they’d fallen apart and left her with only the lanyards, so right now her phone was bare. She peered at it; it was a tiny, octagonal, silver charm with what looked like a tree on it, with the words “Fairgrove Industries” in fancy script around the edge. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Think of it like an emergency locator beacon. If anything untoward—magically speaking—starts to happen to you, it’ll let me know, and I’ll come running. With Metalhead over there, I can get most places pretty damn fast. And…you wanted to do magic, right?”

She nodded, vigorously. He grinned.

“You aren’t up to anything but baby steps, but I can show you the first trick every kid learns to do. Just hold that charm in the palm of your hand.” He held one hand cupped upwards, and she imitated him. “Now just point at it, and kind of stir your finger around it, imagine you’re stirring power into it. You’ll start to feel something building up in your chest, and when it feels like you can’t hold it in anymore, say
beura.”

“What’s it mean?” she asked, doing as he told her. And, strangely, she
did
feel something, a tightening in her chest, as she circled her finger clockwise about the charm. And the tension built up
really
fast. When it got to the point where she could hardly breathe, she choked out,
“Beura!”

Then tension released like an arrow. And the little charm erupted into a tiny ball of light, almost too bright to look at, in the palm of her hand.

“Fallen star,” said Dylan.

Chapter Eight

After he showed her how to put the light out, and made sure she could bring it back up again, Dylan explained everything to her. How his job was to make sure that others of his kind—other elves, that is—toed the line, didn’t try to hurt humans. He was a private investigator in a way; following clues, solving mysteries, that kind of thing. It was all terribly exciting for Staci. Especially when he told her why he needed her.

“Whoever is pulling the strings around here, they’ve taken notice of me. I’ve got kind of a reputation, besides; anyone that has their fingers into something dirty is on the lookout for me, nowadays. That’s why I’ve got the cops in this town breathing down my neck; whoever is
really
in charge is hoping that getting the fuzz to lean on me will get me to back off, find something easier to go after. But that’s not my style.” He grinned when he said that; it reminded her of how the heroes in movies always grinned when they got hit with a challenge. “It’s also where you come in. You can go where I can’t; no one will ever suspect you of snooping around. You can get close to the Blackthornes, find out what’s going on there with that Finn character. You’re already neck deep in this, besides.”

“What’s going on—is this why things are so rotten here? Why no one ever seems to get a break, why everything is like, stuck in 1950, only depressing, and why…” She stopped, before she said
why you can’t get cell and net and cable,
because that all seemed awfully petty.

“Very astute of you. That’s what brought me here; a lot of, I guess the easiest way to describe it would be ‘magical vibes.’ Someone is purposefully keeping this place depressing, keeping everyone here downtrodden. I don’t know why. Not yet.” He looked over her head for a moment. “I checked out the idea that it might be a side effect to something bigger and nastier going on, but it’s not. This is purposeful, not accidental. And right now, the only place I
haven’t
been able to check out is the Blackthorne Estate.” He must have read her expression, because he shrugged. “Walls, dogs, armed guards, cameras, that sort of thing. Normal precautions that rich people take to keep intruders out. If I were more of a magician, I might be able to get around security like that, but I’m not.”

I guess I can see that…
It was a little disappointing—an elf, having trouble getting past a guard with a dog?—but on the other hand, being less superhuman made him more like her. Not quite such a big deal. Especially not if he needed her help.

“Anyway, if you’re all right now, I should make tracks.” He looked down at the town again. “I’m late for a meeting as it is.”

A meeting with what?
she wanted to ask, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell her.

“I figure it suffices to say, you shouldn’t let anyone know about this. I hate secrecy, but it’s a necessity for this gig. It’s safer for you, and safer for me.” He stepped up to Staci, taking her hands into his. “I’m counting on you. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but I think you can handle it. Okay?”

She flushed, feeling happy and warm inside. She trusted Dylan; well, he’d just rescued her from nearly being chopped into bits, that was a good reason to trust someone! And now he had asked her to help
him,
he trusted
her,
and he trusted that she could handle herself. No one had ever trusted her with more than a credit card, before. She had had responsibilities before: laundry, taking out the garbage, little everyday stuff like that. But this…this was beyond. This was
special.

“I’ll do it,” she said firmly. He squeezed her hands, then let go.

“All right then. Just do what you’d do as if none of this had ever happened. The best thing you can do is to act normally. Hang out with your friends, continue your routine. Whenever you get the chance to go up to the Blackthorne Estate, though, accept. Make whatever excuses you have to, but go.” He stared into her eyes as if he was trying to make sure she obeyed him. “Blow off your friends, do whatever it takes.”

“I know how important this is to you. I can take care of it. I’m not a kid, you know.” She laughed to take the sting off what she’d just said. She didn’t want to get him mad…“Besides, I think pretty much anybody that lives here would cut off limbs for the chance to go to one of those parties, you know? It’d look weird if I
didn’t
want to go.”

“Cool.” The motorcycle rolled up next to him without him doing anything, engine thrumming enthusiastically. “That’s my hint I need to get back to work. I’ll be in touch. You keep yourself safe, okay? And keep your eyes open, Staci. This doesn’t work without you.”

“Okay—” she began, but he didn’t wait for any more of a response. Or maybe that was Metalhead’s doing, because the engine roared, the tires spun so that the bike pivoted in a half-circle, and the next thing she knew they were disappearing down the road.

* * *

After all that, getting groceries was a distinct letdown. Especially after comparing what was offered in the store with what she’d feasted on up at the estate. Since it was pretty obvious that Mom didn’t intend to pay for food if she didn’t have to, Staci decided she was going to buy only what
she
wanted, and if Mom didn’t like it, well, tough.

By the time everything had gotten put away, it was a little later than she usually met the gang, so she was pretty sure they would all be waiting at the bookstore when she got there.

She was right.

“Where the frakking
hell
have you been?”

Jake was the first one to stand up. Riley and Seth both kept their seats, but shared the same look of concern. Wanda was the one that actually marched up to the front of the store, took Staci by the arm, and dragged her to the back before Tim could even utter a word.

“I hate to sound like a frickin’ parent, but we’ve been worried sick about you! Where have you been?”

Jake, Riley, and Seth all looked worried; Wanda just looked pissed off.

“Sean Blackthorne invited me to a weekend party,” she said, feeling a sullen anger that she tried hard to suppress. “He even called up my mom to make sure it was okay with her. He didn’t have any Internet up there, and there wasn’t a phone in my room and I didn’t exactly feel like being pushy and asking for one so I could call you guys, when I figured you’d call Mom and find out where I was. I tried to leave a message for every one of you when I was checking Facebook up on Makeout Hill not too long ago, you know. And then, because Mom hadn’t left anything worth eating in the house, I had to do a grocery run.” She flopped down in a chair. “I got here as soon as I could.” After that she launched into a flurry of details about the party: the food, the music, the house itself. And especially about Sean Blackthorne.

Riley and Seth went from worried to envious by the time she was done; Jake looked like he was still kind of on the fence between envious and upset. Wanda still looked pissed off.

“You know, we were really worried,” Jake said. He almost looked bashful. “I mean, your mother isn’t the most reliable person out there, as far as knowing where you are…or talking to. And…well, shit, we were just worried.”

Wanda cut in. “To hell with that, I filed a police report. You disappear for days, and no one knows where you are? Hell, yeah, I went to the cops, for all the good they are in this shit-kicker town.”

“C’mon, Wanda. She’s fine, she had a good time. Her mother knew where she was…so it’s okay, right?” Seth was clearly uncomfortable with the direction Wanda was trying to take the discussion. He kept rubbing his arms, trying not to look either Wanda or Staci in the eye.

Riley cut in before Wanda could start off on another tirade. “So—
weekend party?
We’ve
heard
about those, but no one we know ever went to one! Did you see inside the house? What happened? What do people do all weekend? Was it like—crazy, riot, no parents, or what?”

Wanda settled back to seethe in silence as Staci gratefully took the change of conversation and ran with it. “The only people that got crazy were some of the town kids that came up Saturday night,” she said. “Mostly it was me and a lot of Blackthorne cousins, and we sat around the pool, and they all look like supermodels, I swear.”

“When you’ve got all the money in the world, what doesn’t look good is easy to fix,” Riley said, with just a
hint
of acid. “So don’t get intimidated because you’re not a product of better living through chemistry and surgery.”

“This is still so much bullshit.” Wanda had her arms crossed, her coffee mug forgotten, looking off at one of the bookshelves.

Jake came down off the fence. “Oh, come off it, Wanda. Staci is a big girl; she can take care of herself.
Her mother said she could go.
Sean Blackthorne called her mother himself. Nothing bad happened, other than this town preventing us from living like civilized people with regular texting capabilities. If she had been able to text us from the word go, we wouldn’t have had any reason to worry. Hell, we would have been begging to tag along.” He settled down in the loveseat with Riley. “You need to stop looking for the train wreck in every situation.”

“Yeah, sure. Begging to tag along.” Wanda huffed, then slapped the arms of her chair. “Whatever. I can’t hear any more of this. I’ll catch you all later.” Without another word, she gathered up her backpack and marched out of the bookstore, letting the door slam behind her.

Riley rolled her eyes.
“Awk
-ward,” she said. She and Jake exchanged a look, then nailed Seth with one. He sighed exaggeratedly. “All right, I’ll handle her,” he said. Then he turned back to Staci. “So…what do the rich people do on the weekend?”

She spent the next half hour spilling the rest of the details about the party; the food, the music, the house. Even the weird parts like the trophy room. Seth
really
liked the trophy room. And he was purple with envy about the video game setup, though he couldn’t identify the game they were playing. “It might be something you can only get in Asia,” he observed. “They can get a lot more graphic there.” She had to check herself, though; she almost let slip a few times about…well, magic. And Dylan.

Ever since he had rescued her earlier, she was having a hard time not thinking about him. He was an honest-to-goodness elf; real and in the flesh. And so was Sean! Or at least, that was what Dylan had hinted. It was all so surreal, and if she hadn’t had that phone charm to tell her it really had happened, she’d have been sure it had been some sort of…maybe a nightmare she’d had, falling asleep on the Hill. But it was real; it had happened. Dylan was gorgeous in a rough way, but he was also a little dangerous. She had only met him a couple of times in town, and he had sprung so much crazy stuff on her…but he seemed to be trying to help her, trying to help the town. Then there was Sean; he was a dream. He was probably an elf, too, and ridiculously hot. But there was something seriously wrong with Finn. Could it be that Sean just didn’t know what was going on? Her own human family was dysfunctional enough that it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to believe that elves were just as screwed up. Hadn’t Finn kind of threatened Sean? That “family business”—could that have been about Finn?

So she had only half her mind on what the others were saying, although at least she kept it together enough that her answers to them made sense.

* * *

With the curfew looming, they all finished the last of their drinks and began packing up to head out the door. Staci, of course, didn’t really have anything to pack up, but she took her time, cleaning up the cups, tidying the coffee bar, waiting for the others to get out ahead of her so she could ask Tim about Dylan. Dylan had implied he actually
knew
Tim somehow, and Tim had sure seemed to know him. Discreetly, she allowed the others to shuffle out of the shop ahead of her; Seth and Jake were arguing about a British television show, and Riley was trying her best to moderate. They each in turn said their goodbyes to Tim, who was finishing his own coffee and setting a book down as they left. When she was sure the door was closed, Staci came to a stop in front of the counter.

“Hey, Staci. Did you all have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was fine. Wanda storming out kind of put a damper on things for a bit.”

“She’s just worried about you. Wanda doesn’t really open up to a lot of people, and you four kids are all she’s got. I think she’s afraid that you’re going to get lured away by the glitterati up at the Blackthorne Estate.” Tim smiled wryly. “It’s hard to compete with private pools, lobster rolls and home theaters when all you can offer is a tabletop game and popcorn.”

Staci felt a little bit guilty; after all, hadn’t
she
been feeling like the one deserted with three quarters of her “friends” back in New York abandoning her and the rest offering a couple of tweets of sympathy, then going back to talking about themselves? “Well, I can’t see any reason why I can’t have
two
sets of friends,” she countered. “And maybe Sean will start inviting them, too.”

“I leave that up for you all to figure out; I’m just a humble bookstore owner.” Tim suddenly seemed to lose interest in the conversation. Staci decided not to let him off the hook just yet.

“You’ve been here for a while, what do
you
know about the Blackthornes?” she asked, figuring she could probably segue that into asking about Dylan, too.

“About the same as everyone else. The Blackthornes are Silence originals, rich as God, and pretty much synonymous with the same around here as far as city politics goes.” Tim shrugged. “When I started this store, I figured the best way for everyone to be happy was if I kept my head down and didn’t make waves. So I don’t mess around in politics and it seems to work out.”

That looked to be about as close as she was going to get to an opening, so she took it. “So I guess that biker guy, Dylan, is messing around in politics?”

Something subtle changed in Tim’s expression. “I wouldn’t know, and I don’t particularly care to. Guys like that are usually trouble.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the countertop. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve run into him a couple of times, and he seemed like an okay guy,” she replied, pretending to be casual about it. “But I saw you arguing with him, and I wondered why.”