Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [57]
I moved here after having an ‘issue’ at home.” As I said the word issue, I rolled up my sleeve and showed her my scar. Her eyes widened a bit, but she steadied herself. Without going into too much gory detail, I explained about how I ended up with Henry, whose drunkenness finally brought me to live with my aunt.
“Well, it’s understandable why you’d lie. But you’re here for good, right?” She seemed worried that I was temporary.
“As far as I know, I’m here until graduation. If I don’t get kicked out for failing Latin.”
“Okay.” Angelique smiled, then frowned. “Oof. So that means the peasant requirement—sorry to use those words—is actually kind of met in this case, doesn’t it?”
I gave her a weak half smile. “Emma the plebian, at your service,” I said, bowing my head.
“Let’s run with the assumption that you are a reincarnated soul,” she said, spinning her bangle on the table again. “I don’t know a ton about reincarnation, but I have heard that you’re supposed to have déjà vu a lot.”
“I’ve heard about that, and I’ve never had it,” I said, relieved.
“What about weird dreams—you know, where you’re in another time and stuff like that?”
“That,” I said, “I have had.” I told her about the dream where I was burned in a white house, and the very first dream, where I was in a medieval-looking gown, and her brow furrowed.
“It’s a beautiful, tragic story,” Angelique mused. “And most likely, you’re just wearing an antique—even though that one dream does sound suspiciously like you dreamed you were Gloriana.”
I considered that—the dream where I was bloodied, among the roses—and shuddered.
“Let’s hedge our bets here,” Angelique continued. “Take off the damn necklace and Archer 2000 won’t be able to find you. You’ll meet another guy. They’re all the same anyway. Give me the thing and I’ll use it in a spell.” She held out her hand and beckoned to it with black-painted fingernails.
I rubbed the pendant between my fingers, pursed my lips and shook my head.
“Come on, Emma,” she persisted. “I know it’s a sentimental necklace, but there’s no sense in tempting fate.”
“But can you really fight it?” I asked, still holding on to the necklace.
She gave me a disapproving look, then dropped her jaw as if a thought just occurred to her.
“Your brother—was he really protective of you?”
I thought about Ethan; the time I fell on my bike and he put his headphones on me to distract me from the pain in my fractured ankle. How he beat up his friend Ted who used to lock me in the hall closet and turn off the lights when we were little.
“You could say that.”
“I wonder if he’s the one warning you…all these weird things happening to you, like the lights turning out above your head. I wonder if he’s trying to get your attention, to get a message to you—and I basically gagged him with that protection spell, since nothing really big has happened since.”
I thought about that for a moment, and suddenly, I felt like I had weights tied to my limbs. It made sense.
“I saw him, and I heard his voice,” I said, my voice small. “Ethan was there, in those dreams.”
“What did he say?” Angelique asked insistently.
“He said, ‘It’s starting.’”
“And?” Angelique prompted me.
“And…nothing! That was it. I woke up after that.”
“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” she cried, slamming her hands down on the table, her rings making a clacking sound as they hit the white Formica. “Ugh, this explains so much. He’s the one warning you. I just know it.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Sure, it sounded absolutely mental. But it also felt right.
Tears started to prick at my eyes. “Do you really think my brother is warning me?” I whispered, feeling that familiar, dull ache of loss in my chest. His concern for me was enough for him to reach across spiritual planes? I ran my fingers across the face of my medallion, a few tears spilling out no matter how hard I tried to blink them back.
“I know it’s hard, but you have to focus, Emma,” Angelique said, tempering her stern tone with a sympathetic look. “‘It’s starting,