Daughter of Chaos (18 page)

“I don’t know. I was confused.” I tried to think back, to remember everything I’d felt that day. “I think I was too scared to be angry.”

Justin nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “So why does she think you put a hex on her? And why does she remember seeing you right before the fire?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know! But, Justin, you have to believe me. I was at the movies with Aphrodite all day.” I ignored his raised eyebrow to continue. “And then I went straight to Rochelle’s house. I left her house and then I saw you. How could I have been at the coffee shop before the fire?” He had to believe me. I’d done some nasty things, true, but I would never have burned down the coffee shop.

He shrugged. “The point is, someone who looked like you was there. Cindy believes it was you. How often do you go to that shop?”

“Every morning, practically, before I got kicked out of Trinity. I haven’t been back since the accident, but Rochelle and I used to eat breakfast there.”

Justin looked sad. “So Cindy knows what you look like. She wouldn’t have mistaken a stranger for you, not if you were one of her regulars.” He stood up to leave, his jaw clenched.

“Justin! Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but something isn’t right here. I promise you I’m telling the truth.” Tears threatened to overwhelm me, but I tried to keep my voice steady. I needed his support; if I lost Justin now, after Mom and Dad had been brainwashed, I worried that I might go insane.

He shook his head and turned away from my house. “I don’t know, Darlena. I need some time to think, and you make that hard. When I’m with you—” He drew a deep breath and stopped. When he spoke again, his words were soft. “Don’t call me tonight, Darlena. I need some space from all this … chaos.”

Even though I tried to sneak into the house soundlessly, Mom heard me come in.

“We’re doing pizza tonight, sweetie, so get in here and help me decide what to order,” she called from the kitchen. When I didn’t answer, she came into the living room. “What happened?”

I shook my head wordlessly.

Mom crushed me in an embrace. “It was Justin, wasn’t it? Oh, Lena, I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t help myself; I started sobbing earnestly into her shoulder.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’m so sorry.” Mom brushed my hair away from my eyes. She smiled at me sadly and I tried to smile back.

Her eyes brightened. “I know! Why don’t we play hooky tomorrow, just the two of us?” I stared at my mother skeptically. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when she had allowed me to miss school without being really sick. She laughed at my expression. “Sometimes it’s okay to take a break.” She squeezed my shoulder and I started to smile. “Besides,” she went on, “I know you don’t want to be around Justin tomorrow.”

I felt a stab of pain when I heard his name, but I swallowed it down and tried to smile at her. “But what about work? Can you miss a day?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing is more important than my daughter. I know just where we’ll go.” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “Are you willing to wake up at four?”

Surprised, I nodded. There were lots of places we could get to with just a few hours of driving. The mountains, the coast, South Carolina, Virginia—the possibilities were limitless, but Mom really loved the mountains and the ocean, so I figured it was one of those two. “Where are we going?”

Mom smiled. “Don’t worry about that. You just get to bed early so you’ll be awake in time. And dress warmly!”

Hmm. Definitely not South Carolina, then
. “I’ll try. And, Mom?” I turned at the foot of the stairs. “Thank you. I love you.”

She smiled but her voice shook. “I love you, too. Want me to bring dinner up to your room?”

I paused for a minute, but then I nodded. “Dad won’t mind, will he?”

She shook her head. “I’ll tell him it was my idea. He and I haven’t had a date since that concert, so maybe we’ll watch a movie or something.”

“I’ll be in my room, then. Let me know when the pizza gets here so I can get out of your way.” I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to deal with Dad. I loved him and all that, but I didn’t really want to listen to his comforting advice. I was glad that Mom hadn’t asked any questions about what had happened with Justin, but I doubted Dad would be that in tune.

Mom smiled, but her eyes looked sad. “Alright, Lena. Just remember to get to bed early!”

***

I thought I’d be up all night worrying, but my body had other things in mind. I fell asleep almost instantly, and I plunged straight into a series of vivid dreams.

In one, I was looking in a mirror, but my reflection wasn’t doing any of the things that I was. I lifted my left hand, she scratched her right knee. I smiled, she growled. I started getting upset in the dream, and I tried to smash the mirror with my fists. My hands began bleeding, but the me in the mirror was still there, laughing at me.

Then the dream changed. I was on a stretch of black rock, like wavy asphalt. It was hot out, the sticky, humid heat I’m used to in July. Strange birds flew close to me, and when I ducked to avoid them, I looked down and realized that my feet were embedded in the rock. I started to sink, slowly yet perceptibly, but it didn’t occur to me to scream. I just watched the ripples of rock move up my legs to my torso. I closed my eyes when I was buried waist-deep.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a pink cloud. A mirror was next to me on the cloud, and when I gazed at my reflection, I looked the way I had under the glamour. The air smelled like roses, and I smiled at the mirror, happy to be away from everything as I floated on my cloud in the sky.

I rolled over and suddenly I was falling; the cloud had dissolved under me, and I was plunging fast toward … nothing. I couldn’t see the ground, I couldn’t see anything. I just kept falling.

I woke with a start. I remembered my dreams vividly, and I had to count to one hundred while I lay there in bed before I really believed that I was safe in my room. The red numbers on the clock beside my bed were flashing twelve, and I blinked a few times before I understood. The power had gone out sometime in the night.

I dug my cell phone out from the bottom of my purse to check the time. It was almost four. I pulled on a pair of sweats and threw my hair into a messy ponytail just as Mom knocked at the door.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” She whispered through the door, and I opened it for her.

“Yeah. Do I need to wear anything special?” I hoped she’d say I was fine; I had no desire to fuss with anything right now. In fact, I was starting to question the wisdom of running off with Mom. All I wanted to do was curl up with a pint of ice cream and cry, just like the girl in the movie I’d watched with Aphrodite. But Mom looked chipper, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Besides, she never took time off work; I didn’t want to spoil her day.

She shook her head. “Today isn’t about how you look. It’s about making you feel better.”

In the kitchen, Mom grabbed the old blue cooler off the table. She must have packed it the night before. Either that, or she’d been up way earlier than me. When we got in the car, I peeked inside the cooler. There was water, juice, fruit, and granola, enough snacks to get us through the morning. I was relieved, since I hadn’t grabbed anything for breakfast, and my stomach was starting to churn furiously.

“Do you want to stop for coffee before we head out?”

“No!” I blurted the words and Mom glanced at me, curious.

“I’ve never known you to turn down coffee.”

I groped around for a reasonable excuse. “I’m still tired. I thought I might doze in the car.” I hoped she couldn’t hear the panic in my voice; the thought of explaining the decimated coffee shop to her was too much.

She accepted my answer, and I breathed a short sigh. I settled back into my seat, but even though I closed my eyes, I didn’t sleep.

***

The drive to the Atlantic coast usually takes us anywhere from three to four hours, depending on the beach we're headed to. Mom likes to go fast, and she had the road mostly to herself, so it was just after six-thirty when I saw the sign for Wrightsville Beach.

There weren’t any cars in the public lot that early, and as I got out of the car and stretched, I breathed a deep breath, letting the stillness wash over me. Mom grabbed the cooler, locked the car, and strode purposefully toward the deserted beach.

The sun was just breaking over the waves as Mom and I cleared the sand dunes. Just as I had done a million times before, I stopped to unlace my shoes. Beside me, Mom slipped her sandals off. Dad was the only one who ever wore his shoes at the beach. Shoes in hand, we headed for the water, only stopping to set the cooler down near the edge.

Even at dawn, the ocean was active. The waves rolled to the shore with the sound of sandpaper, and seagulls cried overhead. It was breathtaking, and the closer we got to the water, the more I felt myself growing calm. I dipped my toes in the icy surf, and let my feet melt into the sand.

Boldly, Mom waded out past me, and I began to follow her. Despite the chilly morning and the fact that we were fully clothed, Mom didn’t stop until the waves lapped around her hips. I followed, and was instantly soaked. I stood next to her trying to keep my teeth from chattering. She raised her arms in the air, and recognizing the gesture from my ritual magic class, I did the same.

“Ocean, we beg you to wash clean our sad hearts.” When Mom began to chant, I was startled. What did she have to be sad about? But I kept my arms raised, and I listened intently as she continued. “Mother and daughter, we have come to you this morning for the chance of a fresh start.”

Wistfully, I thought of Persephone and the pomegranate seeds, safely tucked in the bottom of my sock drawer at home. I sighed, wondering if it was time for me to take my chances with the seeds. Mom started to lower her arms, and I followed suit, but she shook her head slightly. I raised my arms again, confused, and watched as she scooped up water in her cupped hands.

“May my daughter know no more sadness.” She leaned forward, spilling the water over my forehead. I shivered compulsively as the droplets cascaded down my neck, but I felt a rush at the same time, a sense of energy just out of reach. Mom raised her eyebrow at me and I nodded, lowering my hands and reaching into the freezing water.

I scooped the water up and raised my hands over my mother. “May my mother know no more sadness.” I repeated her words and doused her in salt water. She smiled at me, water dripping down her face like tears. My skin tingled in the crisp morning air, but I tried not to feel the cold. I wanted to savor this morning. I didn’t usually do magic with anyone, especially Mom, and it felt special to share this with her.

It was a simple ritual, but it was beautiful. As we waded back to the beach, I knew that my problems weren’t over, and I didn’t think my mother would be always happy now, either, but the words and intent of our trip to the coast lingered in the air. For just that moment, I stopped being sad. With a burst of Red energy, I lit a piece of driftwood on fire, stepping close to it to dry off. Mom watched me for a moment, standing a few feet away from the fire.

“Come closer and get dry,” I suggested, feeling the warmth coursing through me like magic.

She shook her head sadly. “Lena, that wasn’t the point.”

I felt like I’d missed something, but I didn’t know what. Embarrassed, I kicked sand over the fire until smoke curled lazily into the air. “Um, I’m sorry?”

Mom shrugged. “It’s okay. Let’s walk.”

We lingered at the coast for the morning, wandering around the beach barefoot and stopping to scoop up pretty shells every few feet. But by noon, we headed to the car and said goodbye to the ocean.

“That was really nice. Thank you.” I felt shy being confined in the car with Mom after the morning’s ritual. I hoped she wouldn’t mention the fire; I still felt like I had screwed up her ritual somehow, but I couldn’t explain Red magic without shattering the illusion that everything was fine. Mom and I didn’t usually work magic together, and there was a sense of intimacy hanging over us that I couldn’t reconcile with the fact that I had to lie to her about who and what I was. Still, I wanted her to know that our trip had helped me.