The Girl and The Raven (4 page)

“You’re serious.” It takes me a minute to compute. “So how did you do that just now?”

“I channeled Lola and transmitted it to you.”

Channeled? Transmitted? “Are you a witch, too?”

Persephone nods. “So is Henry Klein.”

“Gram’s attorney?” I gulp. Henry came over once a month for dinner during my summers here, usually on Sundays. He and Gram used to go for walks together afterwards. I was never allowed to join them. “Do Sheldon and Bernard know?”

“Your grandmother never wanted them to know.”

So Momma’s not the only one who kept secrets.

“I’m telling you this because it’s time we discuss your powers.”

I avoid her gaze. She’s referring to The Incident. Momma yelling at me from the couch…always on the couch…always yelling. She wanted another beer. I told her to get it herself. She tried to stand…twice…and fell back on the couch each time. She cursed at me. I laughed.

In a fit of anger, she picked up the green glass ashtray. I didn’t duck, assuming she’d miss. She always missed. My knees buckled and I saw stars when it struck my forehead and ripped into my skin. Blood, warm and sticky, trickled down my face.

“You think you’re too good for me? For this house?” Momma slurred. The cigarette fell from her fingers and landed on the center cushion, where the ashtray sat moments ago.

I didn’t know…never gave into it before. My eyes fixed on the stupid cigarette as it burned into the fabric. I imagined I could hear the slight hiss as the glowing red tip burned the cushion, could smell the burning fibers. The voice in my head told me to turn and walk away. Momma’s voice filled my head with sharp, grating insults. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t listen to the voice of reason. I couldn’t deny myself anymore.

With that one thought, all sound ceased to exist. Momma’s mouth moved but I couldn’t hear her curses. The TV was still on, but I couldn’t hear its jabber. It was as if my head had been submerged into a black hole of silence. Serenity flooded my veins, lowering my heart rate. Meanwhile, something hot and fierce raged in my belly looking for release. Set it free, I thought. I raised my hands toward the couch. The turmoil raced hot and heavy from my belly up to my chest and burst down my arms where it unleashed from my palms a fiery orb. It shot out, like a bullet from a gun, and hit the center cushion at the point of the cigarette tip, incinerating it in an instant before flames licked their way toward Momma who scrambled to shield herself. She fell off the couch and still I was in silence, awed and fascinated by the flames slashing a black path through the dirty faded fabric and moldy foam insert.

A splash of liquid on my face snapped me out of my trance. Momma’s voice came through loud and clear.
You’re a freak, just like her. I knew it. Devil child. See what you’ve done?
I trembled and wiped my face, now smelling like the beer that Momma had tossed from her can. It mixed with the blood still coursing freely from my split forehead. Horror and dread filled me as I watched Momma struggle to put out the flames. What did I do? How did this happen? I stare at my hands, trembling and crimson as if stained by raspberries.
Just like her.

“Lucy.” Persephone’s voice jerks me out of the memory. “I have an important question for you and I need an honest answer.”

My powers. Persephone knows about the fireball. Had Gram known, too? I clench my jaw as my fists curl in my lap. I kept Momma’s secrets all these years—except when her life was on the line—but she had no problem betraying mine.

“Have you been approached by a stranger…a man…since arriving in Chicago?”

Jude Morgan. I flinch as I recall the shock of his touch. Do I tell her? I want to. I’m tired of keeping everything inside.

“…so I need to know if he contacts you.”

Her face comes back into focus. Lips moving. Stern expression.

“I did…I mean, I was…” I mumble and then clear my throat. “A man bumped into me at the airport.”

Persephone narrows her eyes. “Tell me everything. Right now.”

-Pierce Douglas-

A series of small bells chime as I open the door. The air is thick with the smell of shoe polish.

“Mr. Douglas, it’s good to see you.” Sergio shuffles around the counter to the row of empty chairs. I take a seat in the center chair, relieved that I am alone.

“Business good?” I grab the Wall Street Journal off the chair to my right. The old man sits on a low stool and gets to work on my shoes giving me a clear view of his thinning gray hair and shiny, bald crown.

“It comes and goes. I can’t complain.” He shrugs and flashes his easy smile. Despite his coffee stained teeth and stooped posture, he possesses a quiet dignity. So much like my father.

Within five minutes, I slouch comfortably, my eyes growing heavy. I sigh. This is my sacred space. No one can find me here. Not the office. Not Alana. Not even Gita.

I catch myself snoring and jerk upright. Sergio is oblivious, or at least pretends to be. I snap the newspaper straight and return to the article I was reading. The bell sounds.
Damn
. Not that Sergio would ever rush me, but I couldn’t relax with someone sitting beside me. I should’ve taken the left chair.

“Come in and have a seat,” Sergio says. Must be a new customer. Sergio knows his regulars by name. The chair to my right creaks as it takes on the weight of a man in a dark suit.

“I’ve heard you’re the best around,” the newcomer says.

I freeze, my breath trapped in my lungs. It can’t be. I close my eyes, wishing I could hide beneath my newspaper while Sergio dabs, brushes, blots and rubs, oblivious to my discomfort.

“I am, yes. You will be very happy with my work,” Sergio says.

“It’s been a long time, Pierce.”

The blood running through my veins turns to ice. My worst nightmare has come true. I lower the paper, clear my throat and face the devil himself. “Jude.”

“Surprise. Happy to see me?”

The wolfish smile reminds me that Jude is the reason for my sleeping pill habit.

“What do you want?” My voice trembles and I glance at Sergio, hoping he didn’t catch it.

Jude’s eyes bore into me. That damn smile lingers.

I struggle to breathe, but my lungs don’t cooperate. I feel lightheaded.

The smile turns patronizing as Jude reads my distress. “Relax. I’m here for a favor.”

I blink as I wait for it. The word
favor
is a dangerous one, especially when uttered by Jude Morgan. “What is it?”

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I need something from the back.” Sergio rubs his hands on a worn cloth, his gaze avoiding mine. He shuffles off to the back room. I’m relieved. I don’t want him in the middle of this.

Jude’s eyes are bright. “You’re going to meet a young lady within the next week. She’s important. Her name is Lucy Walker.”

“What?” I ask. “Where am I going to meet her?”

“When you do—” Jude plows on, ignoring my questions.
Asshole
. “—I want you to offer her a job as your nanny.”

“But I already have a nanny,” I protest.

“Not for long.” The smile grows wider. 

Jesus, no
. I feel sick.

Jude pushes himself out of the chair and strolls to the door.

“Hold on! Are you saying I have to hire this girl?” I sputter. “How do I know her qualifications? That my children will be safe?”

At the door, Jude turns. “Consider me her personal reference.”

As he opens the door, the bells chiming, he adds, “Oh, and with regard to the other matter, you’ve got two weeks.”

The next morning, I stand at the front window and watch Marcus drive off. It was late when I left Persephone’s last night. I felt wrung out as I descended the stairs and paused before his door. I made a deal with myself or the universe or whatever. I would stand there for a full minute. If Marcus opened the door, I would find out if he knew about Gram being a witch. If he did, I would confide in him, telling him about my dark secret.

The door remained closed, even though I gave him an extra fifteen seconds.

I turn from the window and flip the switch on the vacuum, rougher than necessary. My uncles refuse to let me help around the apartment, but I’m not a free loader. The second they left this morning to run errands, I jumped out of bed and got to work.

The doorbell rings as I finish vacuuming. I stand rooted to the spot. Why was Marcus back so soon? I sprint across the room and fling open the door.

I can’t hide my disappointment as I stand face to face with a skinny girl with shoulder length blonde hair. “Um…hello?”

“Hi. You’re Lucy…Lucy Walker, aren’t you?” She smiles, revealing braces.

“Yes.” I nod and glance over her shoulder, wishing Marcus would magically appear in the foyer.

“I’m Katie Stevens. I live across the street in the brick bungalow.” She points through the wall in the direction of the street. “My mom is friends with your uncles and said I should come over and meet you.” She smiles again and I notice her braces are colored hot pink. “I like your accent, by the way. Where are you from?”

“Lexington, Tennessee.” I shrink self-consciously in my old gray cut-off sweats and pale blue tank top. In comparison, Katie looks really pretty in her navy blue shorts and yellow short-sleeved top. “You live in Mr. and Mrs. Hauri’s old house?”

“Yeah. My parents are divorced and I’ve been at my dad’s house in Fort Myers—that’s in Florida—since school let out.” She smiles again. “It was miserably hot, but there were a ton of really cute guys at the beach, so I’m not complaining. And I didn’t have to spend the whole summer there this year. Thank God!”

“That sounds pretty cool, actually.” I’m captivated by her eyes, huge pools of deep blue like the ocean. I give myself a mental slap, remembering my manners. “Do you want to come in? I have chores to do, but they can wait for a few.”

“I can’t. My mom and I are doing yard work today.” Her nose wrinkles when she frowns. “I have to go, but I’m going to the mall tomorrow with some friends. Do you want to come? They’re a lot of fun—my friends. You’ll like them.”

She stands there, her eyes wide and pleading and I can’t say no.

“Su…sure,” I stammer and try not to grimace. I’m in Chicago now. The teasing and gossip are behind me. 

“Awesome! We’re heading out around two. Caroline has a car so she’ll pick us up. We’re also planning a beach trip for Friday. You’re invited to that, too.”

“Sounds fun,” I say, trying to convince myself. I walk her out the front door and onto the porch.

Across the street, a woman with long, dark curly hair mows the lawn—Katie’s mom, I’m guessing. As Katie approaches her, yelling to be heard over the mower, the woman looks over at me with a smile and waves. I smile and wave back.

From the corner of my eye, I see fluttering wings in one of the Oak trees. My body goes rigid as I stare at the familiar bird.
Lola?
It fluffs its feathers again and utters a cry. I exhale sadly, recognizing the familiar
caw
. It’s only a crow.

As I head back inside, I grab Jude’s card from my purse. I told Persephone about him. She didn’t seem surprised. I asked questions, but she didn’t answer them and instead simply told me that she needed to speak with Henry. I pace the kitchen, flicking the card with my fingers. I wonder again how he knows me. I think of his powerful touch. Is he a witch like Gram?

It’s very important we meet. Call me, please.

Since Persephone didn’t tell me anything about him, I’ll just have to find out for myself. And if I’m going to call him, it has to be now, before my uncles get home and before I lose my nerve. I take a deep breath, pick up the phone and dial the number on the card.

“Jude Morgan.” His deep voice vibrates in my ear and I shiver. Panicked, I rush to hang up the phone when he calls out my name.

I pull the receiver back. “How…how do you know it’s me?”

“Lucky guess.” He chuckles. “I’m glad you called. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t hang up, Lucy. Please. We need to meet. It’s about your grandmother.”

I grip the phone. “What about her?”

“One of my employees, Aiden, lives upstairs from you. We could meet at his apartment. Does next Tuesday at eight o’clock work for you?”

Marcus’ brother works for Mr. Morgan?

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m running to a meeting.” His voice is friendly, but rushed. “Can we discuss this on Tuesday night?”

He and Marcus’ brother know each other. I push aside my nervousness. I want to hear what he knows about Gram. “Sure.”

“Excellent.”

We say goodbye and I hang up the phone. It’s not until I return to the living room that a thought occurs to me that makes me freeze.
How does Jude Morgan know where I live?