The Rising King (18 page)

Hunting for Something

I flip through the last few pages of a magazine filled with high-end fashion ads and a list of nearby attractions and push it away. The hour I’ve allotted Mom is crawling by. Glancing at Leo, I’m amazed at his patience. Being a sheepherder, I guess he’s learned to appreciate doing nothing in the middle of nowhere.

He stares at his cell phone with the face of someone who’s constipated. Not attractive.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He holds a long finger up to his lips. “Shhh. Dialing a number with my mind.”

Not constipated, just concentrating. “How’s that going?”

His face relaxes and he glances at me. “Not as well as I’d like.”

I snatch up his cell and toss it into the air, but before it hits the counter, I stop it and make it float higher. “I think it’s about time we give you a little magic.”

“Cool.” His face lights up with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this part.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. Magic can give you a raging headache if you’re not careful. Remember me acting like I’d downed a bottle of whiskey when I first got mine?”

I got a lecture from Grandpa, but worse, I got a disappointed look from Grandma.

He frowns. “Yeah, that wasn’t cool.”

I slap him on the back. “Relax. I’m not going to give you that much. You might get queasy after using it, but that’s the worst.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Ready?”

He nods and holds out his arm. I grasp his fingers and my hand glows. He starts to sweat as the energy I’m transferring into him slips under his skin. He looks at me, and when I see my magic flashing behind his eyes, I let go. Slowly, all traces of the transfer fade. I pass him a piece of paper that has the spell he needs to repeat written on it and ask, “How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly normal.”

“Good.” I grab his phone and toss it in the air. As it comes down, Leo stops it before it hits the counter. A ridiculously huge grin takes over his face. He grabs the phone and tosses it up again and stops it an inch from impact.

I’ve got to admit, Leo makes me smile. The joy he gets from the simple act of levitating his cell phone is priceless. Some would say giving him even a small bit of magic isn’t wise. Look what happened to Jason. But Leo is different, and he needs the magic to implement our plan. He fiddles with his phone, giving it legs to walk around, and then shifting it into different shapes and voice commands.

Fifteen minutes go by and his phone alarm goes off. The screen becomes a talking head, saying in a crisp British accent, “Time is but a measure of moments, and yours is up.”

Leo grabs the phone, placing his palm over the mouth, which muffles the repeating phrase, and tells it to shut up before tucking the cell out of sight. He looks at me. “You heard the uptight Anglo. It’s been an hour.”

We both turn from our places at the long bar situated at the opposite side of our hotel suite and stare at the closed door. Quiet doesn’t mean calm. Not in Mom’s case. It could mean she’s planning her next dramatic moment. She lives life as if she’s on a soap opera, and because of that, neither one of us is eager to get the party started.

“I wish I knew what I was looking for,” Leo says.

“You’ll do fine, my young apprentice,” I say as I muss up his dark mop of hair.

“Bro, not the hair.” He grabs my hand and shoves it off. “Seriously, how will I know it’s what it is if I don’t know what it is?”

I’m worried I actually followed that sentence. “That’s why I gave you that shot of magic. We know it’s here. We just have to find it. Just be sure to say ‘Álainn’ correctly.”

He repeats the name a few times. “Good enough?”

“You have a good ear for language.”

“Right? I’m borderline savant that way.”

I nod, but I’m thinking we’ll be totally screwed if this goes wrong. “You ready?”

“I’ll take the couch and play Rip Van Winkle until you two leave.”

“Perfect.”

Leo dives onto the couch and wiggles around until he’s comfortable. I wait by Mom’s door until his long arm shoots into view and he gives me a thumbs-up signal. I take a deep breath, remove the lock, and knock.

No answer.

I knock again. “Mom? Can we talk?”

A muffled voice drifts past the solid door. “I have nothing to say to you.”

I roll my eyes. She’s going to be difficult, but I know how to end that strategy. “Not even to hear an apology?”

Time stretches and then the door opens, but only wide enough to see half of her face. The one eye I can see is puffy and her lips are red and chapped from crying. She looks me up and down. “Where’s your suit?”

“I changed.” I notice she has, too—ripped jeans, an old button-down, and her favorite necklace. “Where’s your dress?”

“I took it off. I’d burn it if I could.” She bites her bottom lip, a sure sign of worry. “What I did, none of it was real, except it was in the worst way. You tricked me.”

Now I get it. Mom’s tantrum wasn’t about me finding her and taking her out of that rathole she’d been living in. I’d embarrassed her. Made her feel like a fool.

I take a deep breath and try to explain. “It wasn’t fake, Mom. They all loved it. They thought you were the real deal. Hell, they probably still do. You could go down there and sit at one of the tables and you’d have them fawning over you in five seconds.”

A hard laugh escapes and she presses her forehead to the door. “Look at me. I’m nobody.”

I think I’ve just found a way to get Mom out of the room. I lean in and say in a conspirator’s whisper, “The right clothes…enough money…I can make you somebody.”

“You…wait, you can?” A blossom of excitement lights her eyes. “And we wouldn’t get in trouble?”

That question told me a lot. I couldn’t help wondering how many casinos she’d been escorted from since she’d been here. “Hey, if they think you’re someone you’re not, how is that our problem? They’re the fools, right? We wouldn’t have done anything wrong except have a good laugh and win a little money.”

The lure of cash had her pulling the bedroom door open wider. “How much money?”

Oh, come on. She knows what I’m capable of. That’s why she’s always been slightly afraid of me, wondering what I’d do if I ever figured out who and what I was. Unlike Kera, I’ve always been more
first
, it’s because of my birthright I guess, and that’s what has everyone knee-knocking scared around me.

“Plenty of money,” I say with a confident smile.

“Plenty by your standards or plenty by mine?”

I create another outfit on her bed, one I saw in that magazine I’d been flipping through, and nod toward it. “Get dressed and let’s see.”

A frown mars the space between her eyes. “What’s this all about?” She looks past me. “Where’s your friend?”

She’s been burned so many times, it’s become second nature for her to doubt every good thing that comes her way. “He’s asleep on the couch. Listen, if you don’t want to, that’s cool. I’ll go by myself. I’ve been trying to get Leo to come with me, but he doesn’t like me using my magic. He’s a cool guy and all, but every time I get a little creative, he says it’s cheating.” I glance over my shoulder and see Leo’s long legs dangling over the edge of the couch. “I was just thinking, what if we go downstairs for something to eat and we just so happen to walk into the gaming area…”

“We’d…just play a few games,” she says, catching on to my ploy. “Nothing high stakes…”

“Not intentionally,” I add.

A big smile brightens her face. “I’ll be right out.” She looks me up and down. The slacks and button-down shirt I’m wearing are nice, but not what she has in mind. “You’d best change back into your suit if you’re going to guard me from my fans.”

She shuts the door on me. I should be irritated, but I’m not. I’m relieved and I let out a controlled sigh.

I walk toward my room where the suit I had on is hanging in the closet. As I pass the couch, Leo and I exchange a high five. So far, our plan is working like a charm.

Thirty minutes later, Mom comes out of her room and heads for the bar. She pours herself not one, but two shots of tequila and slams them back.

I raise my eyebrow at her, snatch the bottle out of her reach, and cap it. She looks at me without an ounce of guilt. “Oh goody. My conscience has returned.” It was the nickname she gave me whenever I stopped her from doing something stupid. “Are we going to have fun or not?”

Without me watching over her, she’s fallen into some seriously bad habits and it doesn’t look like she’s interested in shaking any of them off anytime soon.

“We are. Just be careful with the stuff, okay?” I don’t want to have to fetch her from beneath the table before we even have dinner.

She smiles. “You know me. I’m at my best all loosened up.”

“There’s loosened up and then there’s untied.”

She sticks her tongue out at me and heads for the door. “Come on, Jiminy Cricket.”

In the elevator, I take a good look at her. She’s working the chic look I created, white linen pants and a breezy hot-pink top, her hair is pulled back in a loose bun, and dark shades are balanced atop her head. She’s sporting the latest jewelry trends and a big smile. When she moves, the silver bracelets on her left arm jangle happily, and the rings on her fingers sparkle as she moves her hand along the strap of her bright-yellow purse.

“So I just believe I’m famous and I will be?”

“That’s all that happened before. I didn’t even do anything. Just dressed you up and hovered threateningly near you.”

“Interesting.” She holds out her hand and rubs her thumb and fingers together. “I need a little green to get started.”

“I’ll keep the money.” When she narrows her eyes suspiciously, I explain, “It’ll keep the creeps off of you.”

She thinks about it for a second, and then agrees. When the door opens, her smile turns supernova. “Follow me.”

We sweep into the gaming area and take the place by storm. Mom’s pretty. She always has been with her dark curly hair and bright-blue eyes. She’s youthful without being babyish, and when she’s at the top of her game, like she is today, she has a sensuality that draws men to her, something I can’t even explain. Confident in her expensive clothes, she works the room, and I do my part by scowling at anyone who gets too close.

We land at one of a dozen 21 tables, this one full of men, and she sits. I place my hands on the back of her chair and lean close. “I thought we were going to get something to eat?”

“Later. Now be a good boy and let me win.” She tips her gaze up at me. “You are going to let me win, right?”

“You’re on your own with that.”

She frowns in a way that has the men at the table scowling over at me. “Now who’s the fun sucker?”

I leave and return with a stack of chips and place them at her elbow. Stepping back, I notice two empty shot glasses. With me gone, the men at the table had seized their chance and bought her two more drinks. I stand behind her and keep the onlookers at a safe distance, totally aware of everything Mom is doing. Her laughter is freer; her betting edgy. The risks she takes have me eyeing her.

The crowd thickens and cameras flash as she plays and talks about the love scene she did with Ryan Gosling on her latest indie film coming out in December. Her multitasking skills are solid as she talks and plays. We’ve been on the floor close to fifteen minutes, but it feels like two.

She jokes with the other players and when it’s her turn, she playfully taps her finger to her lips as she eyes her chips. The crowd gives her advice until she finally plops down a shamefully large amount of chips. I’m not even sure how much, but I know it’s more than I would have bet, and the crowd cheers.

Suddenly, she stiffens and sucks in a breath as if she’s in pain. Her hand goes immediately to the amber necklace she’s wearing, and she holds on to it like a life preserver in a storm.

An older woman behind her asks, “Are you all right, dear?”

I lean close to her ear. “What’s wrong?”

Mom takes a cleansing deep breath through her nose. “Nothing.” She smiles at everyone. “I’m fine. Just anxious. I’m slightly ashamed to admit that’s more money than I make in a day of filming.”

The dealer continues, and Mom wins. The crowd goes crazy. She’s on a roll. Before the next hand is dealt, she again gasps. This time she clutches her side. “Damn it,” she mutters and slants a quick glance my way.

I’m instantly by her side. “That isn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. It feels like someone is trying to slice me open.”

“Wanna walk?”

She nods and stands. I collect her winnings, and as she makes her way through the crowd, she signs autographs and poses for pictures. One woman glances at the necklace Mom can’t stop fiddling with. “Oh, that’s lovely? Amber, right?”

Mom caresses the stone. “Yes.”

The woman squints at it. “Is there something embedded in it?”

Mom tips the necklace so she can look at it. “Hair, I believe.”

A huge grin infects the woman. “What’s that called? A fairy lock? I’ve heard stories about those. Brings good fortune, at least it has for you.”

I was barely paying attention to the conversation until I heard that comment. Fairy lock? No way. It can’t be what we’re looking for.

A bittersweet smile touches Mom’s lips. “I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve had it forever. It’s not the most sophisticated piece I own, but it was a gift from my mother.” She lets out a stilted laugh. “I’ve tried to get rid of it, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

Another gasp has her stiffening and she grabs my arm. Leaning close, she whispers, “Dylan. I think I need to lie down.”

I put my arm around her. “Working on it.”

We push through the crowd. It’s apparent she’s not feeling well and everyone turns a concerned eye on her. We make it out of the gaming area and to our room. I call Leo. He comes into the living room and helps me get her to bed. When we enter her room, we encounter a mess of clothes and other girly items Leo has jostled from her suitcases.

The accusing glare Mom gives me has the inner child in me ducking. “What’s going on?”

Leo shoots a glance at me, then back at Mom. “Ummm, nothing much.” He turns to me. “Do something.”