Thief of Lies (6 page)

“
Hello?
I’m not five,” I finally said, and then shut the door before he could call me over for a lecture. I glanced back at the door, wanting to go back in and give him a hug. Instead, I zipped up my hoodie and struggled down the steps. The dissolvable stitches pulled angrily at my leg wound with each movement.

Rain drenched the street. I forced the umbrella open and hobbled down Baldwin Place.

The attack on the Park station platform was all over the news. They reported the man was high on drugs. The police were searching for him. But I knew they’d never find him, which made me uneasy to leave the apartment.

The thought of the hound we encountered in the Paris library and the bald freak in the subway haunted me. I’d been jumpy ever since. I swore there were unknown voyeurs hiding behind the darkened windows of the tall buildings crowding the narrow street, and I imagined some sort of evil looming within each hidden courtyard or flower-bedecked fire escape. Now that I could put a name to the horrors my mother hinted at when I was young, I was more anxious than ever.

I sprinted—the best I could with a gimpy leg—to the end of the road, fearful someone or some
thing
might jump at me from the shadows. I turned the corner and went straight into the café.

After closing my umbrella at the door, I searched for Arik. He was kicking back in a seat at a table in the middle of the café, and my heart squeezed at the sight of him. I moved toward him, but he shook his head and lifted a cell phone to his ear.

He pretended to talk into the phone as I approached. “Don’t acknowledge me. Act as though we aren’t acquaintances. Take one of the tables against the wall.”

I brushed past him, slid into a chair at the nearest table, and kept my eyes on the window, acutely aware of Arik at the table diagonally to my left. My cell phone vibrated in my front pants pocket. I leaned back, tugged it out, and slid it open. “Hello?”

“It’s Arik. Now listen carefully—”

“How did you get my number?”

“Nick gave it to me when I rang him earlier. He’s on his way here. Act as if you were waiting for him, understand?”

“Yes,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“Do you see those two men across the street?”

People rushed by, peering into the windows as they passed. On the corner of Baldwin and Salem, two men—one stocky, the other lanky—crowded a street lamp.

“Who are they?”

“I’m not certain. I spotted them just now when I sat down. They’re most likely tracking me.”

I swallowed hard. “Why would they track you?”

“Probably because my recent jump history happens to match the human scent’s path.”

My stomach dropped. “Jeesh. It’s been days already. Will our scent ever go away?”

“The scent is imprinted in the gateway. Hounds will eventually lose the body scent, but the Monitors will always have record of the jump. You needn’t worry, you’re shielded.”

“We have to stop Nick from coming here. They’ll smell him.” I scanned the street, mentally willing him not to show up.

“I attempted to reach him, but there wasn’t an answer.” Arik paused. “But not to worry, I have taken measures to distract them from Nick’s scent.”

My hand tightened around my cell phone. “What does that mean? Is that supposed to make me feel better? And where were you the past few days? You said you’d come back. Remember?”

“It might be easier if you asked one question at a time.”

Ugh.
He was irritating me. “Okay, where were you?”

“I had to arrange some things. We’ve had guards keeping watch on you three.” Arik fell silent when Erin, a girl from my math class and a server at the café, came up to my table.

“Hi, Gia, will it be the usual?” she asked.

I forced a smile. “Yes, please.”

Erin, a red cloud of hair haloing her face, placed both palms on the table and leaned over. “Did you see the eye candy over there?” She nodded at Arik. “A total rebel type
and
a smoldering accent. I’d love to get to know him better.” She winked and sauntered back to the counter.

Arik chuckled.

“Whatever,” I muttered into the phone. “Can’t we just explain to those men that it was an accident? We didn’t mean to jump into that book.”

“There’s no reasoning with them. They’ve got Nick’s and Afton’s scent.” Arik exhaled, sending a burst of static through the phone. “Because of the evils humans inflicted on Mystiks long ago—tortures and killings—many fear humans learning of our world. The treaty between the Wizard Council and the Mystik League only protects humans unaware of its existence.”

Would that mean they’d be hunted forever? I choked out, “But…but would they really kill us? Just because we went through that damn book?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “The havens were created as a safe place for the Mystiks and wizards to avoid persecution from humans. The last time a human traveled the gateways was close to a hundred years ago. After a wizard married a human, he brought her through a book to his haven . A group of Mystiks tracked her down and burned her at the stake, making the wizard watch her agonizing death. It’s not a pretty story. It was a clear message to the Mystik world to prevent such tragedies in the future.” He paused. “Those bleeders outside won’t stop until the humans are dead. As I see it, we’ve two options…flee or fight.”

“You want to fight
them
? You’re crazy.” The image of Lei’s katana blazed in my mind. We could never battle Mystiks who had weapons and skills like that. And even if I figured out how to conjure that ball of light, what good would that do? Still, there was no way I’d live the rest of my life on the run.

Nick rushed in, dripping rain onto the floor. He spotted me and pushed past a group of kids leaving the café. He was dressed all in leather with biker boots, which suspiciously resembled what the Sentinels wore, and flung himself onto the chair directly across from me. “Hey,” he said, panting.

I mouthed a
hello
to him.

“I’d rather fight,” Arik said. “But since I must get you three to safety, we’re fleeing.” He paused. “We’ve discovered something about you, Gia. You’re not fully human. You’re a Sentinel. We’re meeting someone who will explain everything to you.”

Not fully human? A Sentinel?

“I’m not—” I stopped, remembering the men across the street. They were real. That hunter and hound in the library were, too. And there was something to Arik’s claim. I rubbed the scar on my chest. My mother had started preparing me before she died. The stories. The Italian lessons. All to equip me for this day. I needed to find out the truth, and so I agreed to take another plunge into the rabbit hole. “Okay.”

“Have coffee with Nick,” he said. “Take your time. When you’re finished, meet me at the Athenæum. I’m going to lead those men on a wild chase, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m rid of them.”

“What about Afton?” I asked.

“She’s being retrieved and will be at the library.” He rose and dropped a couple of dollars on the table.

I wanted to tell him not to go, not to leave me. That I was scared. But he had to, for Nick and Afton’s sake. “Just be careful, okay?”

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Don’t do anything rash. I wouldn’t want you to lose that lovely head of yours.”

Our cell phone connection ended.

Despite my worry, I smiled.
Did he just say I was lovely?

He ambled out the door as if there weren’t two scary men watching him. The men who came out of the shadows and followed him were definitely the type you’d cross the street to avoid. The lanky one zipped up his gray hoodie as he stepped off the curb. The stocky man, wearing a leather jacket, tossed a cigarette butt in the gutter and followed. Both had dark stringy hair and scruffy five o’clock shadows. They headed in the same direction as Arik. When they disappeared around a corner, I turned to Nick.

“Tell me everything… I mean
everything
. And why are you wearing those?”

“They’re Arik’s. We traded clothes to throw off my scent…to throw off any
thing
searching for me, so they’d follow him, not me.”

“How’s that supposed to work?”

“Apparently, his clothes will temporarily mask my smell. Confuse them. I don’t know. It all went down so fast. He rushed out and told me to meet him here—”

Erin put down a paper coffee cup with my skinny caramel latte on the table. “Hi, Nick.” Erin assessed him. “Wow, you’re a biker wannabe now. Vitaminwater, right?” She walked off before Nick had a chance to reply.

“She hates me.”

“What did you expect? You did break up with her after only one date.”

“Funny. It was
three
dates. Hurry up and drink that.” He stood. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“What about your Vitaminwater?”

“I didn’t order it. She just assumed I wanted one.” Nick stalked outside.

After placing six dollars on the table, I grabbed the coffee cup and the rest of my things and then shuffled around tables to the door.

Nick paced the sidewalk. “Can you be any slower?”

“I paid good money for this coffee. Besides, Arik said to wait before we left.”

“I’m not hanging around for any of those…whatever they are to find me.”

I swung my backpack onto my right shoulder and slipped my hand through the strap of my umbrella as I scanned the area. We skirted around other pedestrians, hurrying along at a sort of trot-walk pace toward the Haymarket station, hoping something didn’t jump out from the shadows between the buildings. “Where’s your bag?”

“What?”

“Arik had me bring a change of clothes. Didn’t he ask you to pack one, too?”

“No.”

I pulled on the shoulder strap of my pack, hoisting it farther up my back.

“I wonder why he told me to and not you?”

“They know everything about us. He must know your pop works graveyard tonight. Maybe that’s why he called Afton. He probably wants you to stay with her so you won’t be alone.”

“Oh. Right. That makes sense.” I remembered Pop’s request that I be home to have dinner with him before he went to work, and I felt bad about ditching him. Because of his work schedule and my activities, dinners and Sunday night TV were our only alone time.

We shot down the steps to the subway platform and spotted Arik attempting to blend in at the edge of a group of kids. His eyes widened when he spotted us. He quickly turned his head to watch for the train.

I grabbed Nick’s elbow. “Crap.
Nick
. I knew we should’ve waited.”

“Shit. Just act normal.”

The two thugs were on the ledge waiting for the train. The taller one caught me watching them, and a sinister grin twitched his lips.

We were so screwed.

Chapter Six

I
glanced up the tracks for any sign of the train. The tunnel was dark. The taller man watched me so intently I was sure he had caught me looking at Arik. Sweat trickled down my back, behind the pack, even though the platform was chilly.

I turned and started jabbering nonsense to Nick.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. “Are you on a caffeine high or what?”

“One of those creepy men caught me staring at Arik,” I said through clenched teeth. “I was pretending to talk to you to throw him off.”

“Man,” he whispered. “Ever since Freaky Friday, it just keeps getting weirder, doesn’t it?”

“Seriously, tell me about it. Arik keeps implying I’m not human.”

“You’re human, Gia. Haven’t you been to doctors? If you weren’t, you’d be cut open in some lab on a gurney, with men in white jackets examining your insides.”

“Not funny. I’m scared.” Not just because of the men watching Arik, but also from having no idea what I was or how my life might change. Would they expect me to become like them? Maybe I spoke some Italian and jumped us through some gateway, and a few times I conjured that ball of light, but I had none of the abilities of the teens fighting that
hound
in Paris.

The train squealed to a gradual stop beside the platform, and the doors swished open. Everyone crowded together, squeezing through the compartment doors and into the belly of the car. Arik went to one side, Nick and I shuffled to the other, and the two men stayed in the middle.

“Just stay calm,” Nick said.

For the next fifteen minutes, we swayed back and forth until the train slowed into the Park Street station. Outside the window, people rushed along the platform. The crowd squeezed toward the doors, waiting for them to open.

A self-assured girl with long black hair darted along the platform.
Lei?
And behind her came Demos and the other two Sentinels, dressed in regular street clothes.

“Come on.” Nick clutched my arm, and I let him lead me off the train. We moved up the steps with the crowd, and the moment we came out the doors, I pulled back on Nick’s lead. “What are we doing? We have to help them.”

“No. Arik said not to stop…to keep going until we reach the library.”

“But—”

I turned toward the station’s doors, and Nick yanked me back. “But nothing, Gia, you have to listen to me. They’re tracking me, and I doubt your kickboxing skills are a match for them.”

“They can’t sense you with Arik’s clothes on.”

“You always half listen. Arik said if I wore his clothes, it would confuse them. It won’t eliminate my scent.”

I glanced at the doors and then back at Nick and sighed. He was right. There wasn’t much I could do to aid them, and I might be more hindrance than help. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Afton stood outside the doors of the Athenæum, nibbling at her cuticle. Her wrinkled pink dress shirt and loose black pants looked as if she’d slept in them, and she wore ballet flats instead of high heels. The outfit was completely unlike her.

“She’s a mess,” I whispered to Nick.

“Yeah… She looks terrified.”

When Nick reached her, Afton flung her arms around his neck. “I was so worried,” she said into his shoulder.

Nick patted her back. “You don’t have to worry. We’re okay.”

She pulled away from him. “If anything happened to you guys… What are you wearing?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Nick said. “I’m wearing Arik’s clothes. It’s to cover up my smell.”

“I’m wearing my mom’s dirty clothes for the same reason.”

“Why were you worried about us?” I asked. “You’re the one who’s alone.”

“I’m not alone.” She inclined her head in the direction of the library. “I have my own personal warrior for protection.”

A man somewhere near forty stood up from his seat on the steps. His eyes struck me first, soft green and soulful. Waves of tea-colored hair brushed his forehead. For his age, he was extremely fit and muscular. He wore a black leather trench coat, and when he bolted down the steps, it flapped open, exposing the ornate handle of a sword strapped to his waist.

The man stopped in front of us. “Blimey, you resemble your ma,” he said in a thick Irish accent.

“What?” My voice cracked. “Who are you?”

“I’m your da.”

I
barely remembered how I got to the café or when I sat down and ordered the generous breakfast the waiter placed in front of me. My head swam. It reminded me of the time Nick took us to Jessie’s party, and I’d guzzled too much spiked punch (no matter what Nick said, I didn’t know it was spiked at the time).

I lifted the glass of orange juice in front of me and took a long sip. Ever since Friday, I’d felt like I was falling. Like the ground was no longer beneath my feet. Who was I? Or rather,
what
was I? And who was this man sitting across from me? Was he really my father?

I clunked the glass down. “So what’s your name?”

“Carrig. Carrig McCabe.”

“How do you know I’m your daughter?”

“Your mother was Marietta, well, Marty, right? She be pregnant with you when she left.”

I stared at the eggs on my plate, processing his words. “Yeah. She was my mother. Why did she leave?” My gaze went to him. His brows were scrunched, a worried expression on his face.

“I loved her with all me heart. She left to protect you.”

“I don’t know anything about my birth father. For all I know, you could be a phony.”

“As certain as the nose on me face, I be your father.”

“Then why didn’t you come for me before this?”

“I’ve searched far and wide for Marietta and me baby,” he said. “Her trail led to New York and then we lost her scent. There weren’t any signs of her after that, and I relinquished all hope of ever finding her.”

The walls felt like they were closing in on me. My stomach twisted, and I shot to my feet. “Excuse me, I need the restroom.” Afton made to follow me, scooting her chair back. I shook my head, stopping her, and hurried to the bathroom with my heart pounding in my ears.

My legs were numb and my weight unsteady on them. I leaned against the door, trying to calm my rushing breaths. Panic was a crazy thing. It hit without warning. I’d had several attacks after losing my mother but hadn’t had any since I started playing sports. It taught me how to silence my head, to ease my breaths and control the beast.

Tacky pictures of flowers hung on the wall in the small bathroom. Only one stall, a sink, and a big rubber plant made up the room. I locked the door and hunched over the sink.

I wanted Pop.

Tears burned my lids. I caught them with my fingertips before they fell and then studied my reflection in the mirror. My green eyes had red streaks and my face was paler than normal. My head throbbed, and I loosened my tight ponytail. I gave my image a sharp glance.
Get your head in the game, Gia.

I was losing control.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about him?” I said, as if my reflection could hear me. I shook my head and reached for the faucet.

I did tell you, baby.
I flinched at my mom’s voice. It sounded so real. Alive. I glanced around the empty bathroom. My mother was haunting my head. I was definitely on the crazy train now.

Once during story time, I had asked my mother what my father looked like. She’d tapped my nose and said he had soft green eyes, just like mine. I examined my face in the mirror. The color of my irises, my nose with a slight upturn at the end, and my full lips—all matched his.

Okay, so he could be my father. Now what?
I had to find out all I could about Carrig and his world. I had to know the truth.

When I returned to my seat, Nick, Afton, and Carrig stared at me as if I was a mental patient just let out of the psych ward.

“What? I’m fine,” I said.

“I have something to show you,” Carrig said. He retrieved his wallet from the inside pocket of his trench coat, pulled out a worn photograph, and slid it across the table to me. The edges were tattered and the colors faded. A younger Carrig beamed in the snapshot, his arm wrapped around my mother’s shoulders. Her belly was huge and round, her smile wide and bright.

I had never seen my mom this happy in a photograph before. We didn’t have many photographs of her back home. There were tons of me with Pop. All taken by my mom. She avoided cameras, and now I knew the reason for it…to stay hidden. But why?

All these years I had based my mom’s contentment on the one video we had of her. It was my fourth Halloween, and we were dressed like angels, dancing and giggling around the kitchen. The picture was jerky because Pop was laughing along with us while he was recording. I had always believed Mom was happily in love with my stepfather, but now I wasn’t so sure.

The next item Carrig slid over shocked me. I caught my breath as I scanned the letter written in my mother’s curly script. My head fogged, the edges of my perceived reality of my parents’ happy marriage vaporizing with each word I read.

My dearest Carrig,

I will never love another as I love you. I must flee to protect our little one. I fear we are the prophecy. I know of a Pure Witch who will place a protection on the baby and me. Please don’t follow us. It will mean death for all three of us. I pray that one day our family can be together. If this ends badly, know you have made me happier than anything else in my life. I risk all for our love, and I will die protecting our baby.

Always yours, M*

I dropped the letter on the table.
It isn’t real. It’s a fake.
She loved Pop. She married him.

But there was no mistaking my mother’s characteristic curly M with a star at the end of the line for flair. Every birthday, Christmas, and Easter card to Pop from her—stacked in our memory box back home—had the same exact signature.

Nick and Afton watched me with those concerned gazes again, so I stared out the window, trying to regain my composure. People rushed by on the sidewalk, and vehicles braked, jolted forward, and sped off on the boulevard. A black cat slinked across the street, reminding me of Nana’s cat, Baron.

“I’m not expecting you to believe me right off,” Carrig said, bringing my attention back to the table. “But think of the events of the last few days, and ask yourself if it might be true.”

“Why didn’t someone tell me?” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in.” I took the paper napkin off my lap and wiped my nose with it. “My mother’s letter mentioned a witch?”

“I’m not too sure I should be telling you this part,” Carrig said. “You haven’t taken the rest so well, yeah?”

“I’m fine. What could be worse than all the other stuff that’s happened? At least you’re not a deadbeat dad, like I’d thought. My. Entire. Life.” I lifted my glass and took a swig of juice, trying to seem unaffected, even though I wasn’t. What I really wanted to do was go work out, kick some bags, and gather my thoughts.

“All right, then.” He took another sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “There be only one Pure Witch in these parts skilled enough to master a shielding charm. Her name be Katy Kearns.”

Juice spurted from my mouth, spraying Nick and the table.

Nick flinched. “
Gross
, Gia!”

I set the glass back on the table. “You said
Katy
Kearns?”

“Yes.”

“
Nana?
”

The bell on the door jingled. I’d stopped checking to see who came into the café, but Nick’s shocked expression caused me to turn. “Nana?” I croaked out.

Nana regarded Carrig. “You might have told me where to meet. If it weren’t for Baron, I wouldn’t have found you.”

“Me apologies,” Carrig said. “The area be unfamiliar to me, so I was not entirely certain where we’d end up.”

Nana dropped her designer tote bag on the floor by the table and smoothed a stray strand of hair back toward her chignon. Pop and Nana had the same striking red hair, but hers was streaked with gray. Nana was short and petite, while Pop was big and tall. He took after his dad instead of Nana. Wearing white slacks, a navy blue blouse, and a printed scarf tied elegantly around her neck, she was dressed as if she just stepped off the cover of an over-fifty magazine. At sixty-three, Nana looked younger and was in great shape for her age.

“Nick, be a good boy and get me a chair,” Nana instructed. She waved her hand in the air as if she was shooing an insect, but I didn’t see anything.

Nick raised a brow, giving her a curious look, then stood and offered his seat.

“Thank you. Now that’s a good boy.” Nana patted Nick’s arm. “Would you mind getting me a cup of hot tea? Earl Grey, if they have it, dear.” She scooted the chair closer to me, eased gracefully onto the seat, and cupped my chin with her hand. “I never wanted to hurt you.” Her soft gray-blue eyes stilled me. The same tender eyes that had eased my fears a bazillion times before. “What I’m about to say may sting, but you’re to remember it was done out of love.”

I sniffed and nodded.

“Good.” Nana released my chin and gave me a reassuring smile. “There are two kinds of witches in the world. Bane Witches, who wield poisonous hexes, and Pure Witches, who invoke spells and charms for good causes. I am the latter.”

Afton dropped her fork on the table. “You
are
a witch?”

“Is
Pop
one?”

“No,” Nana said. “His father was human. He didn’t get any of my magic.”

Memories of my visits to Nana’s quaint duplex in Mission Hill came rushing in—her black cat that watched me with dissecting eyes, her collection of leather-bound books written in Latin with sketches of plants and animal parts in them, and the eccentric older women who made up her literary tea group. Even the concoction that healed my wound better than the doctor’s ointment. All strange in their own right, but put together, they told a different story. Nana wasn’t just odd—she was a witch. An honest-to-goodness witch. Who’d kept the truth from me, kept me hidden from my father.

My whole life had been a collection of half-truths and lies. Maybe to protect me, but it was hard to accept. I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or scared. What people could be so horrible that Mom had given up someone she’d supposedly loved to hide me? Wizards… Mystiks… Hunters… who knew what else. My mind swam. What did they think I could do? I had so many questions I didn’t know what to ask first.