CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Do you really have to go?” It wasn’t the first time I’d asked, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last either.
Gareth looked up from the pile of clothing and supplies he was arranging. “I thought we covered this already.”
“We did,” I said. “But I’m hoping if I keep asking you, the answer might change.”
Gareth sighed, came over, and sat next to me on the bed. “Look, I know you think this is a bad idea, but everything’s going to be fine. The plan will work.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have no way of knowing that.” I balled my hands into fists. “This whole thing could end badly.”
He offered a small smile, but his eyes narrowed in what looked like sadness. “No,” he said. “You’re just new to this, that’s all. Lainey, Serena and I have been hiding from the Master our whole lives. Every day that we wake up breathing, our death is a possibility.”
His words were like ice water, dousing the anger and frustration burning inside me. I swallowed. “You must think I’m pretty selfish,” I said. “All I can see is how this affects me, when in reality there’s a much bigger picture here.” I looked down and unclenched my hands. “This is what it’s like for all Supernaturals, isn’t it?”
Gareth nodded. “I’m afraid so. The Master has Scavengers all over the country watching us. Small uses of magic are typically allowed—Serena’s visions, for example. That type of power rarely entices a Scavenger, but if a Supernatural is doing something that could be seen as a threat to the Master’s power, the Scavengers report it to the Master, and the Guard moves in.”
“Just like that? Don’t the Supernaturals try to fight back?”
“Some do,” Gareth replied, “but it’s rare. The Scavengers have one motivation: money. They care about nothing except the cash they make when they deliver someone of value to the Master. If a Supernatural tries to fight back, the Scavengers just call the Guard and wash their hands of the whole thing. Plus, as long as they’re valuable to the Master, they’re safe from his wrath.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can understand why the Guard hunt us. They’re corrupted with dark magic. But I’ve never been able to understand the Scavengers. To turn on your own kind like that . . . for nothing but money.” He shook his head in disgust. “It makes me sick.”
I nodded, not really sure what to say, so I squeezed Gareth’s hand in lieu of words.
“So,” he continued, “you’re not the only one who understands the severity of the situation. We’ve just gotten used to it, I suppose.”
“It makes me angry,” I said. “It just doesn’t seem fair. One dude has control issues, and a whole lot of people have to suffer for it.”
Gareth shrugged. “History is full of people like the Master, people determined to destroy and dominate for no real reason.”
“Yes, but it isn’t fair. And it isn’t right.”
“No, it isn’t. But unfortunately, that’s the way the world works.”
My stomach rolled with nausea. Was that really how the world worked? One man decided that another group of people didn’t deserve to live free, and that was it? There was nothing to be done?
“Why don’t we fight back? Why don’t the Supernaturals combine their powers or something?”
“You don’t think we’ve tried?” Gareth shook his head sadly. “Those with enough power to stand against him were exterminated long ago. Now our kind stays hidden, never grouping together to avoid unwanted attention. What can one or two Supernaturals do against soldiers like the Guard? Against the Master himself?”
“So everyone just stays hidden and hopes the Master doesn’t find them?” I asked. It seemed like no way to live. “That seems so . . . so . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to speak the word out loud.
“Cowardly?” he finished for me. I nodded.
“Well,” Gareth sighed again, “perhaps it is, but fear can be a powerful motivator—or a de-motivator in this case. At the end of the day, I think most of us just want to make it through to the next day.” He squeezed my hand. “Most of us have families that we want to keep safe. It just isn’t worth it to declare war on an adversary we have no hope of defeating.”
“So we just tuck our tails between our legs and run?”
“We do what we must to survive,” Gareth replied with a shrug of his shoulders, standing and moving back over to his pile of clothes. “Can we ask any more than that?”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to fight with him again right before he left, though I was tempted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He might be okay with the status quo, but now that this was my fight too, I certainly wasn’t. Was this how all Supernaturals felt? Just sit back and wait for the Guard to come after them? I shook my head. There had to be another way.
Gareth finished packing the small stack of clothing and toiletries into the duffel bag at the foot of the bed. “Well, I think I have everything I need. I should probably get going.”
He walked over and wrapped his arms around me. I clung to him, and he to me. Finality seemed to wrap around us in the moment, but I shoved it away with all my might.
“You have to promise me you’ll be careful,” Gareth said, squeezing me tighter.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just, please . . . whatever you do, come back home.”
“I promise, Lainey Bug,” he whispered against my hair. “I promise.”
When we broke apart, Gareth walked over to his closet and pulled a small leather sheath from the shelf. I recognized my dagger.
“I cleaned it for you,” Gareth said as he handed it to me. “And I sharpened the blade, so be very careful. I know we didn’t get to train with it for very long, but it would make me feel better to know that you have it.”
I took the small scabbard in my hand, running my fingers over the smooth leather. “Thank you. I’ll keep it with me.”
“Good,” Gareth said, grabbing his duffel from the bed. “Walk me to the door?”
We walked down the steps in silence, both of us at a loss for words.
I hugged him one more time and watched as he walked to his truck.
“You’ll be at Maggie’s till this all blows over, right?” he called out over the open door. I nodded. “Okay, good. I’ll call you when I can. Oh, and Lainey? One more thing.” Gareth smiled. “I love you. You know that, right?”
I flew down the stairs and into his open arms one last time. “Love you too, Uncle Gareth. . . . Thank you.” There was so much I wanted to say, but I hoped those two little words were enough.
When Gareth pulled back, his eyes were swimming with tears. “No,” he said. “Thank you.”
We embraced a moment longer, and then with one more smile, he was in the truck and driving down the dark street.
I watched until the red taillights of the truck disappeared from view. Trudging back into the house, I headed toward my bedroom to pack my own bag, trying to ignore the terrible feeling gnawing at the back of my mind.
Everything’s going to be fine. The plan will work. Gareth’s words swam in my head.
I sure hoped he was right.
“What about this one?” I held up the sweater for Maggie’s approval.
“It’s fine, but I think my grandmother has the same one in green.”
I groaned and threw the sweater over my head where it landed on the pile of already discarded clothes. “That’s it! I’m not going!” I flopped down on Maggie’s bed and covered my face with my arms.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Styles,” Maggie calmly called from the bathroom. “And could you cut that out? I’m trying to put mascara on, and you’re gonna make me poke my eyeball out.”
I uncovered my face to see the lights in Maggie’s bedroom and bathroom were flickering on and off. Yelping, I jumped to my feet. “Argh, not again!”
Maggie walked from the bathroom and put her hands on my shoulders. “Relax, Lainey. You have to relax.”
“I’m trying,” I said through clenched teeth. “But the more I try not to use my magic, the more it keeps happening! The freaking Scavengers could be right outside for all we know!”
“You’re just nervous. You need to calm down.”
I sighed. It’d been four days since Gareth left town. I’d spent hours poring over books about magic in Serena’s shop, but the distraction did little to quell my worry. Gareth had called once to let me know he was safe, but that was two days ago. Every time the phone rang and it wasn’t him, my nerves grew more frazzled.
It didn’t help that Ty was due to pick us up for the carnival in half an hour.
Date. The very word made me want to crawl under the covers and never come out. I’d been on a few dates before, and I’d had the sporadic boyfriend or two. But this felt . . . different, and it made me ridiculously nervous.
I groaned and covered my face with one of Maggie’s pillows.
“It’s just a date, Styles,” Maggie said. “Not an act of congress. It will be fine.” She hopped up and pranced back to the bathroom, fluffing her voluminous curls. “Besides, I’ll be there to back you up. You got this.”
I let out a breath. “Thank goodness for that.” I’d insisted Maggie come along—using my unstable magic as a feeble excuse for not being alone with Ty—but even her usual perkiness couldn’t alleviate the churning in my stomach.
“Here,” Maggie said, coming out of the bathroom to pull an off-the-shoulder, midnight-blue sweater from her closet. “Wear this.”
I took the sweater and threw it on. It hit just below the waistline and sat perfectly across my collarbones. It was exactly the look I’d been hoping for. “How is it that you can dress me better than I can dress myself?”
Maggie laughed. “’Cause I know you better than you know yourself.”
I grinned and sat down to put my boots on. Then I pulled the dagger Gareth had given me from my bag and carefully tucked it in the waistband of my jeans. I pulled the sweater over it and checked in Maggie’s full-length mirror to make sure it was covered.
A few minutes later, I was putting on a thin layer of lip gloss when headlights flashed across the wall. “He’s here,” I said, peering out Maggie’s bedroom window. Ty’s familiar black car was parked in the driveway. “I think I’m gonna throw up,” I continued as Ty walked toward the door.
“It’s not like you’ve never hung out before, Styles.”
“I know, but this is . . . different.” I tugged on my hair, trying to smooth it into place.
Maggie walked over and pulled my hands away from my scalp. “Stop that. You look beautiful, and he’s gonna think so too.”
“You really think so?”
Maggie put her hand on her hip. “Please, when have I ever been wrong?”
“Never.” I grinned. Downstairs, the doorbell rang. I jumped, and the light overhead gave a tiny flicker.
“Come on,” Maggie said with a laugh. “Let’s go save him before my dad starts doing his ‘famous’ impressions.” She cocked her head at me and, with a voice that perfectly mirrored her father’s phony Humphrey Boggart accent, said, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
Giggling, we linked arms and walked down the stairs to where Ty was talking casually with Maggie’s dad. He was wearing his leather jacket—which I’d finally returned—and a long-sleeved gray thermal with a pair of dark jeans and boots. He looked incredible.
Swallowing, I forced myself to focus on the stairs so I wouldn’t trip and fall on my face.
After listening to Donald Duck and Bill Clinton remind us several times to stay safe and wear our seatbelts, we managed to say good-bye to Mr. Dawson and head outside. Maggie dutifully crawled into the backseat with a wink as Ty walked me to the passenger side of the car and held the door open.
“Thank you,” I squeaked as I sat down. Oh my God. I cringed at the shrill sound of my voice. Behind me, Maggie snickered. I turned around and gave her a quick glare. She responded by kicking the back of my seat, as if to say, “Chill out! Take a deep breath!”
I rolled my eyes but sucked down a mouthful of air anyway.
Ty walked around the car and got inside. He cranked the car and backed down the driveway in one fluid motion. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Maggie’s dad,” he began, his cheeks turning slightly pink, “but . . . uh . . . you look gorgeous tonight.”
My cheeks burned, but I smiled. “Thank you,” I said, grateful that my voice seemed to have returned to its normal state.
“And we all know, I, of course, look fabulous!” Maggie chirped.
My laugh had always been a little too breathy for my liking, but it blended with the deeper tones in Ty’s laughter as we chuckled at Maggie’s comment. I liked the way it sounded—our two voices together in harmony. A flash of warmth rushed through me.
“How’ve you been?” Ty asked. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you much since Serena’s house.”
“I’m okay. Worried about Gareth. I can’t reach him on his phone. He called a few days ago, but since then nothing. Everything else’s been quiet.”
“He’s probably just being extra cautious,” Ty suggested.
“Yeah . . . maybe.”
“No sign of the Scavengers?”
“No, not that I know of anyway. I haven’t seen anything strange, and Serena hasn’t had any more visions about them, so I’m guessing whatever Gareth is doing must be working.”
“Are they still in the area?”
I nodded. “She thinks so, but she’s too afraid to do any real spell that would tell her for certain. She doesn’t want to attract any more attention.”
“Well, no news is good news, right?”
“Right,” I agreed. “Although I really wish Gareth would call. I’ll feel a whole lot better once I hear from him.”
“I’m sure he’ll call soon,” Ty said.
“I hope so.”
“And how about you, Maggie?” Ty turned his attention to her, and Maggie immediately launched into an animated narrative of her week. I watched Ty’s face as he listened, my heart fluttering as I studied the planes of his cheekbones, the strong set of his jaw, his lips that were quirked up into his crooked grin. I resisted the urge to fan my warm cheeks.
After parking the car and paying for out tickets, we walked into the carnival grounds. The cheerleaders had really outdone themselves this year. The fairgrounds were brightly lit with colorful lights, and speakers hanging from the light posts blasted popular country music. There was a large selection of rides, including a Ferris wheel and a Tilt-A-Whirl, and there were tons of booths that had games where you could win prizes. The smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafted through the air, and my mouth began to water. In the back corner of the fair there was a haunted house, and there was also a haunted corn maze as part of the festivities.
“Wow,” I said, taking it all in.
“What you said,” Ty replied, his face in equal awe. Maggie, who was grinning like a five-year-old, nodded.
I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet. “What do you want to do first?”
“Oh, look,” Maggie said, pointing toward one of the booths. “There’s Lily Owens!” She waved, and a girl I recognized from school with strawberry-blonde hair waved back. “I think I’ll go hang with her for a while.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but snapped my lips back together when Maggie glared at me.
“You guys have fun. I’ll meet up with you later, okay?”
I let out a huff. I’d been counting on Maggie as a wingman, but as she wiggled her fingers at Ty and grinned at me with a smile that would’ve made the devil cringe, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
I mumbled under my breath as she winked at me and then skipped over to where Lily Owens was waiting. “Why, that little—”
“So,” Ty said, “are you hungry, or do you want to hit up the rides first?” He was beaming a smile that made me feel all gushy inside.
“I could definitely eat.” I tried to say it casually, but in truth I was starving. I’d been too nervous to eat earlier.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ty said with a grin, “because there is a booth over there that claims they have corndogs so good they’ll make you want to slap your mama!” he finished the last part with an over-exaggerated Southern accent that made me laugh.
“That sounds great! Although I must warn you, I can pretty much eat my weight in corndogs. They’re my favorite.”
Ty grinned and put one of his hands over his heart in mock surprise. “Beautiful and loves corndogs? Be still my beating heart!”
Laughing, we headed toward the food vendors.
The crowd was thick and difficult to maneuver through. As Ty was getting the food, I jumped to the side as a mother wrangling three young boys almost trampled me on the way to the ice cream stand, and I stumbled into somebody on my other side.
“Excuse me, sir!” I said to the tall gentlemen I’d accidently bumped into. The man grunted in response, pulling his black baseball cap lower over his eyes. He stalked off without a word.
“Geez, rude much?” I muttered.
Before I could think on it further, Ty walked over triumphantly with a tray full of corndogs in his hands.
“You ready for this, Styles?” he crowed. “’Cause I’m about to kick your butt in a corndog-eating contest.” He did a little box step with his feet.
“Already practicing your victory dance?” I laughed.
“Yep, just want you to have a little taste of what’s to come.” Ty’s smile lit up his entire face.
“Ha!” I chortled. “Dream on, pal! I never met a corndog I didn’t like!”
Laughing, we made our way toward the picnic tables.
“You ready for this, Styles?” Ty asked, handing me a corndog.
“Let’s do it.”