Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [78]
“Yes, and when you’d guess who was calling before he answered the phone, he hated that. Your mother used to do it, too.”
I felt my blood run cold. “What did you say I used to do?”
“Oh, you know, dear. Someone would call the house, and you’d announce, ‘It’s Uncle Dan!’ before anyone answered the phone. Your idiot father swore you and your mother had a caller-ID box hidden somewhere and were ganging up on him.”
I was suddenly aware that I had been clenching my hands into fists, leaving little half-moon marks in my palms from where my nails were digging in. I tried to count to ten, then to five, to steady myself from the thoughts that were coming together in my head.
“Well, dear, it’s late and I’ve got to get to sleep,” Christine said, draining the last of her martini. “Have a good night.” She kissed me on the top of the head and shuffled off to bed, leaving me flabbergasted in the floral chair.
Brendan and I had a connection when we were toddlers?
I was able to “predict” things when I was a kid?
I apparently inherited that ability from my mom?
Two words from Angelique popped into my head: born witch.
I raced for my purse to check my phone, which I’d ignored since going to Brendan’s house. Still no reply from Angelique. Damn it! I had fourteen texts from Ashley asking how my date with Brendan went, and nothing from Angelique. I had a lot to discuss with this girl. Where was that absentee little witch?
The next morning, I had my answer to Angelique’s where abouts before I even left the apartment for school. Angelique’s mom had used the school’s emergency contact sheet to call Aunt Christine and ask if I could bring Angelique’s books home that night. Seems even witches can fall prey to the flu.
I had lied to Ashley the night before, saying I had to get to school early to hand in a late assignment. I hated fibbing to her, but I couldn’t handle her constant stream of questions this morning. I had a lot to mull over.
After putting my headphones on, I stuffed my gloveless hands into the pockets of my wool coat as I walked down Park Avenue. First, stripping away anything supernatural about our romance, Brendan was my boyfriend. And whenever I was with him, I conveniently forgot anything but what it felt like to be in his arms—whether that was part of being “cursed,” I didn’t know. But when I was with him, I didn’t care about little things like my soul being at risk.
And then there was the whole born-witch thing. I stared down at my hands, flexing my palms as if I expected to feel some kind of new strength emanating from them. Instead, they just felt chilly. I stuffed them back into my pockets and continued walking.
I had never thought I’d be the kind of person to give up everything—hell, anything—for a guy. I had seen my mother make all the wrong decisions to keep Henry around. But, I reasoned, Brendan wasn’t just some guy. And I didn’t feel like I was giving anything up. I felt like I was getting so much more.
With each step toward the school, I knew I was coming closer to my destiny—with Brendan. All that remained now was how to figure out how to keep that destiny—and me—safe.
Chapter 15
I arrived at school a full hour early, so I pulled out my books and slid into the empty history classroom, trying to distract my fuzzy thoughts with Latin’s first declension. Jenn only greeted me with a grunted hello, and after catching a look at her red-rimmed eyes, I realized she was in too much pain to ask me how my weekend was. I was relieved; truth was, I had no idea what to answer. Did some homework, watched An chorman again, and I more or less spent the weekend with my soul mate—but you know him as Brendan.
I survived through history and math class, but as Jenn and I made a silent, slow stroll to English, I started internally freaking out. What do I do about lunch? Angelique isn’t here…do I sit with Jenn and Cisco, or is there any chance Brendan will want to sit with me?
Of course, Brendan wasn’t in his seat when we got to English. How should I say hello? Is this too much of a statement