Once A Witch Part 13

"That she's under some kind of"-a pained look crosses James's face-"spell. A love spell" He turns to me so suddenly that I take a step back.

"Who is this man?" I swallow. I don't know if now is the time to tell James that I introduced Alistair, however unwillingly, into Rowena's life. Into all our lives. But just then Rowena breaks free from my mother and runs toward us, her arms spread, her hair flying. James steps forward as if to catch her, but she pulls herself up short, seeming to barely register his presence except to say, "I need the keys."

"Ro," he says softly.

"Wait a minute. Do you even-"

"The keys," she repeats, making an impatient motion with her left hand toward the Saab. Her eyes are like two holes burned into her face.

"No," James says. His voice splinters, and I wonder if this is the first time he has ever uttered that word to her.

"James," Rowena says, and her voice becomes custard-soft and sweet.

"Give me your keys now. I need them and you want to help me" Swaying forward, she puts one hand on his arm.

"Rowena" He says her name in a long rush of sound and there is compliance and love and utmost despair all mixed up into it. And at the same time he is reaching into his pocket and I hear the faint clink of metal. I don't even need Gabriel's fiercely whispered "Tam" in my ear before I'm moving forward.

"Stop listening to her," I say to James, and because I still can't get a sense of this, I jerk Rowena's arm and say brutally, "Stop telling him to give you the keys." Beside me, I feel James give a little jolt and then he pulls his hand from his pocket as if burned. When she sees that his hand is empty, my sister howls. Then she turns and slaps me. Hard.

"Whoa!" Gabriel shouts, and then he's moving past me, pinning Rowena's arms to her sides. She screams, strands of her blond hair falling across her face and clinging to her wide-open mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I see my parents start toward us. In midstep my mother winks out and then she's standing next to me, breathing hard as if she really did just sprint up the driveway.

"What happened?" she gasps. She throws the question out to all of us, eyeing my sister, who is still struggling in Gabriel's grasp. I touch my stinging cheek, my fingers brus.h.i.+ng across what feels like a scratch from my sister's ring.

"Tamsin stopped her. From compelling me," James says in a wondering voice.

"One minute I knew that I needed to give her the keys and then ... the next second I knew I didn't have to. The feeling was gone."

"She did that for me, too. In the car ride up here," Gabriel adds.

"Otherwise, we wouldn't be here right now" Just then my sister's head jerks up and slams into Gabriel's chin.

"Ow-dammit" There is blood on his lip as he adds under his breath, "And that might be nice," but I think I'm the only one who hears him. James steps forward and puts out his hands to my sister, who's breathing hard now.

"Traitor," she spits, turning her head away. She goes very still and maybe Gabriel relaxes, because all of a sudden she jerks forward and frees herself in one sharp movement. She stumbles a little away from us, nearly cras.h.i.+ng into my father, and regards us all balefully. Then she flings herself at the Saab, her fingers scrabbling at the door. I don't know if my sister plans to hot-wire the car somehow-I doubt she knows, either- but my mother gives a little mewl of despair, then turns and makes a beckoning motion toward the house, where a small knot of people have gathered on the porch. Gabriel's mother, Lydia, detaches herself from the group and comes forward slowly, almost reluctantly.

There are circles under her eyes as she puts a hand on my mother's shoulder, squeezing it briefly. She nods at my father, who looks distinctly troubled, and then moves toward my sister.

"Oh, no way," Gabriel mutters, and I shoot a look at him. But he is eyeing his mother with trepidation.

"I need you to distract her," Lydia murmurs to James, and he takes a step toward the wild woman that is my sister, hunching his shoulders and lowering his head. Somehow, he reminds me of nothing more than a weary bull resigned to charging the matador once again.

"Rowena," he says softly.

"I'll drive you back to the city," he offers, and she turns, staring blankly at him as if trying to remember his name.

"I'll drive you back to ... him" His voice chokes a little, but he rushes on.

"Let's leave now, okay?" She takes a step toward him hesitantly.

"You'll drive me?" she repeats in a ragged voice, and he nods. She moves closer to him.

"Thank you," she whispers. Quicker than thought, Lydia's hands slip through the air, like white blurring birds, and clamp firmly on either side of my sister's temples.

Rowena's face contorts for one slash of a second and then she sways into James's waiting arms. Lydia shrugs, rubs one hand across her face.

"She'll sleep for a while, Camilla," she says to my mother.

"Call me when you need me again," she adds and picks her way back to the porch, her hands wrapped around her elbows. James bundles Rowena more tightly into his arms and touches his face to hers for just an instant, like a man gulping air. Then he straightens up and begins carrying my sister to the house.

The spikes of her high heels are scuffed with mud from the driveway and her right arm flops bonelessly in the air with every jouncing step. I don't think I've ever seen my sister this graceless. I look over at my mother, who is leaning against my father's shoulder, tears gilding her face.

FIFTEEN.

I AM SITTING on the top step of the staircase, my arms looped through the wooden railings, when Gabriel finds me. He walks up the stairs, balancing a full plate and a cup, and as he lifts his gaze to me, a flash of silver slides off the plate and falls through the air clattering onto the steps below me.

"s.h.i.+t-sorry," Gabriel whispers with a glance toward the closed door of the library at the bottom of the staircase.

"No big deal," I say.

"They know I'm out here" My parents have been sequestered in the library for more than an hour now.

"Who's in there?" Gabriel asks, motioning with his chin since I still haven't taken the plate from him. I follow the movement, glancing the opposite way down the hallway to the also tightly closed door that leads to Rowena's room.

"Your mom." Gabriel nods, sits next to me, and holds out the plate. The smell of slightly burned bread wafts upward. He has made me a grilled cheese sandwich, the filling oozing out in a white gooey mess. Somewhere he also found a handful of carrots that have been chopped into thick coin-shaped pieces. I'm trying to figure out why he thought I might need a fork and knife, but I decide it would sound ungrateful if I ask.

"It's not sus.h.i.+ or fish tacos or pizza, but I did the best I could," he offers, and I take the plate into my hands, finding its warmth comforting. I look sideways at him.

"How do you know I like sus.h.i.+ and fish tacos and pizza?"

"My sources are excellent."

"Agatha" I think about my roommate for a minute. I didn't even tell her I was leaving the city. There wasn't any time, but still, I know she'll be worried by now.

"I should call her," I say, but somehow I can't find the energy to get up and do it.

"You should eat first," Gabriel says, and b.u.mps the plate toward me. I pick up a triangle of sandwich, watch as more cheese filling drips out, and put it down again.

"So your mom's been pretty useful these past few days," I say, chasing a carrot around the plate before bringing it to my mouth.

"Apparently," Gabriel murmurs.

"She used to do that to me when I wouldn't go to bed."

"When did she stop?"

"When I was seventeen," he says, plucking a carrot coin from the plate and making it vanish in his fingers.

"Joking," he adds and pulls out the carrot from behind my ear. I knock his hand away.

"Cut it out," I say.

"Or is this more of your Talent?" He shakes his head.

"Nah. Just stuff I learned. Card tricks, coin tricks, stuff like that. Begging for money on the street is much easier if you can entertain people first." I nibble a corner of my sandwich.

"You begged for money?" He shrugs.

"My dad kicked me out for a while" He says this lightly, easily, but still I feel a tremor under the words. I chew, swallow, wait. When nothing is forthcoming, I ask, "Why?" Gabriel studies his hands, turning the leather cords on his wrist over and over.

"Because I kept finding things for him. That he didn't want me to find. Or my mother to find."

"Oh," I say through another mouthful. I think better of asking, then do it anyway.

"What things?" A grin travels across his face.

"Oh, phone numbers, condoms, jewelry that wasn't for my mother. That last one really caused a scene."

"What happened?" I ask through a shower of crumbs. Somehow the first half of my sandwich has disappeared and I start in on the second, trying to eat more gracefully. Gabriel scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"Well, he took a swing at me. Which I could have handled. In fact, it was a relief after everything else. I mean, he had already kicked me out, but I came back to see my mom for a while and he came home, and anyway, my mom got in the way." My eyes widen and I put my sandwich down.

"Did he hither?" Gabriel shakes his head.

"No, she got in the way as in she put him to sleep. For a while. That was it, I guess. We packed while he was pa.s.sed out on the floor. I think she knew it was over then. But I don't think she's ever forgiven herself" He takes a breath, picks up my sandwich half, and bites into it.

"Or me," he says, or at least I think he says that, but just then, as if on cue, the door to Rowena's room opens and Lydia steps out. She eyes Gabriel and me on the steps and moves toward us, her filmy skirt swaying gently with the motion.

"I need-"

"A break," I say hastily and jump up. Carrot coins tumble down the steps and I see Gabriel s.n.a.t.c.h one out of midair. I hope she hasn't overheard anything.

"I'll sit with her," I say, nodding toward my sister's door. Lydia hesitates, looks at Gabriel, then at me, and then at the closed library door at the foot of the stairs.

She nods briefly. I start to move past her, but she catches at my wrist.

"Gall me if she seems like she's waking up. I don't know how long this will last. It seems to be less and less ... effective." She shakes her head at something unseen and releases me.

"Can you do it again?" I ask nervously.

"Like, just to be safe?" Lydia stares at me and then I realize she seems to be staring at something beyond me. I almost look behind me. I wouldn't put it past Uncle Morris to be eavesdropping in the hallway while invisible.

"It's dangerous. If I do it too much."

"Oh," I say softly, and the image of a man lying so still on a floor slams through my head. Lydia continues down the hallway to the top of the stairs, and I watch as she and Gabriel dance awkwardly around each other. I have a few seconds to consider the irony that all my life I've felt like an outcast in my family for not being Talented while all his life Gabriel must have felt just the opposite. I wonder just how much Lydia must have loved Uncle Phil. Then I wonder why. Squaring my shoulders, I step into Rowena's room. A small bedside lamp casts a faint glow across my sister's skin, but even with the extra light I can see just how pale she really is now. Her breathing is shallow and fast, unlike the deep coma breaths she was taking a few hours earlier, and I pause inside the doorway, wanting to call Lydia back. But then Rowena seems to settle deeper and a smile crosses her face. Her hair is spread out across the pillow, glints of gold s.h.i.+ning here and there. Three strands are caught in the comb on her night table and I touch them lightly, trying to imagine Aunt Lydia combing my sister's hair. I spin the comb on the tabletop. It must have been James. After settling Rowena in her room, my mother had taken him by the shoulders, turned him in the direction of a spare bedroom, and told him to sleep. It seems he hadn't slept for two days. I had caught my mother's eye then, but she'd shaken her head and sidled away from me and into the library with a mouthed "later." My sister stirs and I turn back, swallowing hard. If I have to, I can stop her. Then I think about this for a minute. I may be able to stop her from using her Talent on me, but I can't physically stop her from running over me to the door. To get back to Alistair. I need to talk to my mother. I need to talk to ... I glance at the phone on the table and pick it up quietly, one eye on my sister, who has settled again. I dial the number I know by heart.

"h.e.l.lo?" Agatha's voice is polite and I realize she doesn't recognize my home number, it's me.

"Tam! Where are you? Where have you been? I called your cell, like, five times already and it keeps going to voice mail. What happened to you? I thought we were supposed to-"

"I'm sorry," I rush in.

"I ... there was a home emergency."

"Is everything okay?" Agatha's voice is expectant; I can feel her waiting to be rea.s.sured and I bite my lower lip.

"Yeah, it's okay now."

"What's going . ."

She trails off, waiting for me to interrupt her, and when I don't, I can sense her confusion coming in waves over the line.

"You didn't even sign out. Hags is going to be p.i.s.sed."

"I know" I rub my forehead. We can get away with a lot at New Hyde Prep, but even Hags has her limits.

"What do I tell her?"

"Look, it's ... complicated. I mean, everyone's okay," I say, glancing over at Rowena, who twists suddenly and whimpers.

"Mostly," I add.

"Tam ... you're being ... weird. Are you sure-"

"Yeah. Yeah. I swear. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I won't be home tonight. And not for the rest of the week. And the weekend, too."

"What about Cynthia's party on Friday? I thought you-"

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"I'll try. But I..."

"Okay," Agatha says, but I can tell that everything is not okay.

"Um ... so how was your day?"

"Good," she says, but now she is too polite, like the way she answered the phone, and I squeeze my eyes shut until I see needles of light burn and dissolve.

Rowena moves again, her hands scratching across the pillow. The sound of her fingernails on the cotton sheets reminds me of mice in the walls.

"I have to go," I whisper.

"I'm sorry, Agatha."