Authors: Scott Tracey
Tags: #teen, #young adult, #urban fantasy teen fiction, #young adult fiction
Eight
At first, I thought Jade was leading me off campus. I didn’t even know if we were allowed to do that or not. I didn’t think we were.
Instead, she led us to an alcove somewhere in the rear of the building. I hadn’t been this far back yet, but there were windows looking out on one of the main streets in town. A trio of vending machines lined the walls, offering a sundry of soft drinks and prepackaged foods. We both got a few things from the vending machine and then sat on one of the couches.
“So what brought you to Belle Dam?”
“You know, family stuff.” I tried to shrug it off.
“You have family stuff?”
I had to think about that for a second. “It’s kind of a divorce thing.” Which it was … if you squinted real hard and looked off to one side.
Jade nodded, looking reserved for a moment. “Divorce is always hard, or so I’ve heard from friends.”
“What’s your story?” I wondered. “You and Riley didn’t look like sleepovers were in your future anytime soon.”
Jade chuckled. “If there are any skeletons in your closet, better check the locks. The girl finds out an awful lot of secrets.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I went with silence.
“You’re a little like her, I think.” Jade’s voice was thoughtful.
“What’s the problem with the two of you? You hate each other?”
Jade shook her head. In the direct light, the pink in her hair was even more bubble gum colored than I’d noticed before. “Riley thinks outside her reach, that’s all. She’s always off hunting the next big story. She wants to challenge the status quo.”
“And you like things the way they are?”
“No,” she admitted. “Not always. But it’s safer that way. Making trouble just to make trouble doesn’t do anyone any good.”
“So you’re saying she’s trouble?”
“Riley’s just a girl. I’d rather not waste my entire lunch period talking about
her.
The point of this was to find out all about
you
, remember?”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You’ll figure out I get my way an astounding majority of the time.”
“So what do you want to know?” I leaned in a little, equally fascinated and curious. Jade was all confidence and charm—not to mention the things I had seen with my sight the day before.
“What do your parents do?”
“Uhm, my uncle,” I said. “No other parents to speak of.” I noticed her wince, but went on as if I hadn’t. “He’s … kinda doing his own thing.”
After that it was a good deal of small talk where she asked me more about where I’d grown up, life with my uncle, and all sorts of things that I had to think about carefully, or gloss over, before answering. The idea of being homeschooled amused her to no end, as did the fact that we’d really lived in a log cabin.
“And if anyone gives you a hard time,” she announced, “just tell them you’re a friend of mine. Give it a couple of weeks, and word will get around.”
I laughed, thinking that she was joking. “Why would anyone give me a hard time?”
“Not everyone in town is a friend of the Lansings. And sometimes people get … overzealous when someone new comes in.”
“Wait … you’re a Lansing?”
Her smile widened, showing two rows of perfect teeth. “Of course.”
I shook my head. No one had gone out of their way to point out the local celebrities yet. I heard crinkling, then looked down to see the empty bag in front of me. I hadn’t even remembered eating the pretzels, but the bag was empty.
“Come on. I’ll show you where you’re going next. Show me your schedule.” As we walked through the halls, Jade started to give me a rundown of the teachers to avoid, and the ones to impress.
She did as promised and led me down into the bowels of the school for art class. The teacher prattled on for the entire period about “finding the natural light,” whatever that was supposed to mean. I tuned out for the forty minutes, until someone dropped off a note from the office, from Lucien. Apparently, he wanted me to stop by his office after school.
“Braden!” As I left the classroom, Riley was in the hallway, heading in my direction. She stopped short, her forehead creasing as she peered up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said after a second. Did I look like something was wrong?
“Oh. Well anyway, I’ve decided to forgive you for going off to lunch with Jade, even if you did make me sit by myself.” Her face scrunched up in distaste.
“What about that kid you were talking to this morning. I thought you were friends?”
“Not quite friends,” she amended immediately. “Not quite something else.”
“Oh.” Relationship drama.
“Art, Braden? Eww,” she said suddenly, making the connection with the room I’d just left. “You couldn’t find a better class choice?”
“You’re not into art?” I asked her. Personally, I was more interested in photography. A way to look at the
world and see it without all the other layers swarming in at the edges. But Belle Dam High didn’t have a photography department. Uncle John must have told Lucien that I was interested. So I got art instead.
“Of course not,” she snorted. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. And don’t be like my mom and argue that writing is artistic. I want to be a journalist—that’s not about being creative, it’s just about what’s true.” She blinked, almost as though she realized the conversation had turned back to her.
“Tell me more about the Lansings?” I asked. Finding out about Jade had made me more curious.
Her expression frostened. “Ask Jade.”
I tried a different tack. “Isn’t there another family in town? The Thornes or something?” Playing dumb wasn’t really my strong suit, but it seemed to work.
“You mean Mr. Thorpe?” Riley brightened. “Do you know he bought the school brand-new computers, and arranged for the paper to get printed out at the Gazette?”
“I thought I heard he wasn’t a nice guy?”
Riley shrugged. “Maybe not to some people. But he’s got a soft spot for kids. Y’know, since he couldn’t have any of his own.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. “His wife died, and he never remarried. There were rumors, but … ” Her voice trailed off.
“Rumors about what?”
Riley twirled one of the bangles around her wrist
. “That she killed herself. I don’t think she would, though. My mom saved all these old society pages with her picture in them. She didn’t seem like the type.”
“People usually don’t seem anything like they really are,” I said with a shrug. “At least in my experience.”
“I’d hope not,” she said. “If even half of what they say about Mr. Thorpe or Mrs. Lansing is true … ”
“Why, what do they say?”
Riley looked away and started moving down the hall. “It’s not any of my business,” she replied.
“But … ?” There was a “but” there.
“It’s like someone drew a big invisible line across the town. Jade’s mom on one side, and Mr. Thorpe on the other. But every time something happens in town, people act like it’s more about the feud than about what’s really going on. It’s all anyone seems to think about.”
“You make it sound like they’re in the mob.”
Riley shrugged. “That’s how Drew always describes them.”
“So he’s not a fan of theirs?”
“Would you be?” she scoffed. “They practically ran him and his mother out of town after his dad died. The Armstrongs used to be another one of the important families in town. Then Bennett Armstrong died in a car accident, and everyone turned on Drew and his mom. He used to get picked on a lot in grade school.”
“So what’s that have to do with the Lansings or the Thorpes?”
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “Nothing. It’s just a stupid local rumor.” The clacking increased in frequency, and she started moving even faster down the hall.
“I thought you were the expert on all the stories around here, Riley. So what’s the deal?” I didn’t have to hurry much to keep up with her—even at her quick pace we were still walking in tandem.
“Ask your new friend, Jade. I’m sure she’s got a great perspective on the situation.”
It was the silence of the bracelets that clued me in to the fact that she had suddenly stopped. I was already several paces ahead of her before I turned. “You don’t want to get involved with them, Braden. They’re not like you or me. They think the rest of us are just pawns to toy around with.”
“So they get together and hatch nefarious schemes to ruin our lives?”
Riley bit back a laugh. “Hardly. Catherine and Jason hate each other. Like classic English nobility hatred. I heard it used to be a lot worse, before Jason’s wife killed herself.”
Riley’s words didn’t make me feel any better about being here. If the vision I’d seen had anything to do with the Lansings and the Thorpes … what was I getting sucked into?
¤ ¤ ¤
Once the school day was over, Riley offered to take me to the editorial meeting for the school paper, but I declined. Her face was more than a little anxious when she asked, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?” as though I was going to vanish in the night.
“Ugh! Not again!” Jade’s shriek rang out clearly as I stepped out the side entrance. Riley had explained that senior parking was located on this side of the building. And Jade’s parking space was front and center.
It was another few steps before I saw what was wrong. Sprinkled across the surface of her car were white splotches that shone against the black metallic paint. I glanced around. Every other car in the line was free of bird droppings, except Jade’s.
“Just like last year,” she said as she looked at me. “It’s the first time since school started, though.”
“Birds not a big fan of the sports car?”
“It’s my brother’s car. She held a hand to her forehead, dark manicured nails against the pink streak in the front.
“Why do you have your brother’s car in the first place? You don’t have your own?”
She stared at me like I’d just asked her to wear spandex. Then she cracked an unsure smile. “I’ve had three. After the last one, my parents said no more. So I borrowed my brother’s. He doesn’t mind.” She grinned then, a look of pure mischief and princess attitude. “He might start minding once he finds out, though.”
“So you stole your brother’s car. After you did … what? To the other ones?” Three cars? If that wasn’t a warning sign, I didn’t know what was. I had a sneaking suspicion of what she was going to tell me. I was right.
“
I’ve got this thing about stationary objects,” she admitted. “I kind of attract t
hem.”
Bad driver. Check. “And you’ve managed to piss off every pigeon in a hundred mile radius. Nice,” I said. “Plus, now you’ve got to get your brother’s car clean before he realizes.”
Jade pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and slid them on her face. “Look. We match.” Of course, hers had a designer’s logo crafted on the side, and mine were more about total eye coverage. “I’ll just tell him I don’t know anything,” she went on. “I was at school all day, and his car was in the garage where he left it.”
“In the garage. Where an army of angry birds attacked it,” I pointed out with a straight face. “Unless you’ve got someone else to blame, he’s going to know it was you, won’t he?”
She thought that one over for a couple of seconds. “There may be a flaw in that line of thinking.” She sig
hed. “I guess that means driving to the car wash and waiting for them to detail it. It’s going to be too clean. He’ll know something happened then.”
“Well, if you’re as bad as you say you are behind the wheel, then he can’t blame you, can he? Assuming you can get the car home in one piece. The only way he’d know is if there was a giant dent somewhere on it. Right?”
She tapped a finger against her lips. “You might have something there.” Jade opened the car door and gestured to the other side. “C’mon. I’ll give you a ride. Only the outside’s dirty. You can keep me company at the car wash.”
“I’ve always wanted to ride in a car covered in bird crap,” I said. Jade laughed, checking her face in the rearview mirror. “But, I can’t. I’ve got to run by the library.”
“I’ll drop you off, then.”
“Why?” She was a very strange girl. They all were.
“Because maybe there’s some use for you yet,” she said with an enigmatic smile.
Nine
It didn’t take us very long to arrive in front of the public library, but finding a parking space proved more difficult. Jade had to circle the block, which didn’t seem to suit her.
“I’ll just jump out here,” I offered, as we came to another corn
er.
“You sure?” She blew an absent strand of hair upwards.
I nodded and pushed open the door. From the driver’s seat, Jade’s mysterious smile made a reappearance. “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me. For now.”
¤ ¤ ¤
The library was an old classic. Elegant white stonework framed the two-story building, having dulled only marginally after years of faithful service. Large bay windows exposed row upon row of books inside and a hint of hanging lights that looked better suited to a fine-dining restaurant than to a library. There weren’t any giant stone lions waiting outside its doors, but I loved it immediately. It just
looked
like a library.
I hadn’t really figured out what I was going to do in the grand scheme of things, but before I did anything else I wanted to find out a little more about Lucien Fallon. All I knew so far was his name, and that there was something about him that made me nervous. His note said to be at his office at 5:00.
The computers were tucked away in a corner behind a series of bookshelves that only came waist-high—a nice little nook where people could surf the Net. I slid down into one of the chairs and started my research.
A quick Internet search proved that Lucien was well educated, European, and some sort of legal powerhouse. University in England, then law school in New York. There were tons of details about how he grew up and where he went to school, but there was almost nothing on his life after graduating.
The problem came when I glanced at one of the dates attached to a law school journal he’d been included in while he was in New York.
The dates are over twenty years ago
, I realized, tracing my finger along the screen as if that would make it suddenly make sense. But the man I’d met wasn’t in his forties. It’d be hard to say he was even in his thirties.
Before I could really hash out what the hell that meant, there was a looming presence abo
ve me. I glanced up. The narrow-eyed blonde blocking out the natural light took a second to recognize.
“I thought that was you,” Trey said.
I closed the browser and got up from the desk. Trey cut around me and headed for the stacks, glancing at me over his shoulder for a moment before he disappeared.
Is he stalking me?
Then why did he show up and then start wandering of
f
?
“Something I can help you with?” I finally managed to say, as I followed him.
“Not today,” his voice whispered from a different row. He was clearly enjoying himself. “I never pictured the library as a great place for runaways. Interesting choice.”
“I’m not a runaway,” I lied. I turned a corner and found him waiting for me.
“Whatever you say. Who am I to judge?” Trey’s tone suggested otherwise. “So what’s your interest in Lucien Fallon?” He’d seen what I was looking up on the computer.
“He’s my uncle’s lawyer. That’s all.”
“Fallon’s never quite that simple,” Trey said. “But most of the time he’s Jason Thorpe’s lapdog, so what do you expect? What’s your uncle do, anyway?”
“Computers.” Later, I’d have to wonder how it was that the lies came to me so easily. I pointed at myself. “Custody stuff.” What he said bugged me. Lucien worked for Jason Thorpe? One of the town bigwigs? He hadn’t mentioned it.
“Ahh.” Trey ran his fingers along the row of books, looking distracted.
“You know anything else about Lucien?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Not anything that would help. He’s scum.”
“So if he and Jason Thorpe are so terrible, how come no one’s stood up to them before?”
“
Yeah, you’re definitely new,” Trey said, with a humorless laugh. “That’s not the way things work around here. So where is this mysterious uncle, anyway,” he said, switching tacks.
“My … uncle?” I winced, and tried covering it up by pulling one of the books off the shelf and pretending to study the cover. It was some sort of haunted house novel, with the creepy-looking mansion all in black and gray. “He’s … coming. But I had to start school.”
“Ahh.” He plucked the book out of my hands and flipped it over to the back cover. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, maybe I can help.”
He said it so offhandedly, like it was nothing to him.
He probably thinks you’re just another runaway, afraid to go back home.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice tightening. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
Trey nodded absently, his eyes still on the book. Apparently it didn’t suit his taste, because he slid it back on the shelf where it belonged and glanced down at me. “So what’s with the glasses? You’re not blind.”
“My eyes don’t see things the same way yours do,” I said carefully. “It’s like being allergic to light. I get these migraines, sometimes nosebleeds … but it’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Trey said, after a minute had passed. “So you’ve had it all your life?” I nodded, and he went on. “That’s a rough gig. Must make you appreciate that you can see at all, huh?”
Doctors, and people I’d run into with my uncle, always said things like that. Thinking that sight, at any cost, was worth it. I used to fantasize about what it’d be like to wake up completely blind one morning. My best guess was that it was like stepping into a lake in the middle of a hot summer day.
I didn’t know what to say to Trey’s assumption. “I’ve got … stuff,” I said awkwardly, with a gesture back toward the computers.
“If I were you? I’d tell your uncle to get a new lawyer. Fallon’s just going to cause you both some trouble.” There was a twinge to the way he said
both
, like he knew Uncle John wasn’t anywhere near Belle Dam.
“Don’t really have a choice in that,” I said. Murmured voices picked up somewhere behind me, and I turned. When I looked back, Trey was already wandering away, to a table with books and papers scattered on it.
I checked the clock hanging above the computers. There was a little more than half an hour left until I had to meet with Lucien. Maybe I could find something out about Grace. Whoever she was, Lucien seemed to think I’d be interested in knowing about her. Which begged the question, why?
¤ ¤ ¤
“I’m sorry, hon,” the librarian murmured. “The only information we have on local history is what’s already over there.
Everything on the Lansings would be there. If you’re looking for something more, then I’d suggest the historical society, or the display they have in City Hall has a few old documents. Is this a report for school or something?”
She was seated behind the desk, her copper hair frizzed from one too many perms. I tapped my fingers restlessly against the edge of the desk. “School just started. I was just curious, I heard a story someone was talking about in study hall,” I said with sudden inspiration. “But I’m not interested in the Lansings. Just about this Grace woman, and some sort of story about her.”
“Grace
Lansing
,” the woman emphasized. “The Widow of Belle Dam. You probably heard that old ghost story, about how she wanders the Lansing estate on a full moon night, didn
’t you?”
Grace was one of the Lansings? “Right.
Something like that.”
“They say that she’s been waiting for her lost love to find her. Depending on who’s telling the story, sometimes he’s a ship’s captain, other times just a captain of industry. The woman in white is a fairly standard ghost story.”
“Really? So it’s kind of like gossip? Someone picks up a story, and then goes home and tells their spin on it?”
The librarian chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “I like to think the legend started here with us. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
Oh, yes. Riveting. “Is there a copy of Grace’s story somewhere so I can read it?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
Why hadn’t Lucien just told me that Grace was supposed to be a Lansing? “So there’s nothing in the library that can help me?”
“There might be a mention of her in one of the books about local legends,” the librarian said helplessly. “But I don’t remember anything else.”
“I’ll just ask Jade. I’m sure she can tell me something. But I didn’t know the town was all that big on legends and historical stuff.”
“Oh, it’s a big part of Belle Dam, hon. There’s a Founder’s Fest in the summertime right before Labor Day.
You just
missed it.” She sighed wistfully. “Then there’s the Key Festival in the spring. It’s like an Easter egg hunt. The City Council hides a hundred keys all over town, and whoever finds the most wins a prize. My uncle won a year’s supply of firewood from the Thorpe company one year. At the awards ceremony, they tell the story of how Grace Lansing hid a number of keys all over town, and if anyone found them all, they’d find a hidden Lansing treasure.”
“Treasure, huh? No wonder everyone likes the key hunt.”
I thanked her for the help and headed for the exit. Nothing useful.
Lucien’s address had been on Washington, which was the same street as the Belmont. All I had to do after leaving the library was turn toward the water and head in that direction. I cut across the street, behind a line of cars waiting at a light, and crossed over a corner of the town square.
It only took a few minutes to reach Washington, where the traffic was much more serious. I followed the sidewalks, watching as cars zoomed past almost like there wasn’t any speed limit.
At the corner, a group of people had gathered around the crosswalk, with one older man in a polo shirt and slacks pressing the button every three seconds.
“That’s not going to make the light change any faster,” an exhausted-looking woman next to him snapped. She looked in my direction. “Peyton, get over here.” No, not at me. At the tiny little girl in the elaborate pink … gown.
“I’m a princess,” she announced, looking up at me.
I smiled down at her. She did some sort of dance that involved hopping and a pirouette as she circled around me. She giggled and spun toward me. I took a giant step forward, bounding out of her way so she could continue her dance.
That’s kind of cute
, I was thinking to myself when I noticed the bus barreling down the street. Like the other cars before it, it seemed to be completely disregarding speed limits.
The little girl’s dance stopped and she looked up at me. Her eyes were wrong. Hollow. “You shouldn’t have come here, Braden,” the princess said in a much quieter, more adult tone.
And then she pushed me so hard I went right off the sidewalk and into the street. Right in front of the oncoming bus.