Almost To Die For Part 4

What? Did she mean . . . ?

"To me," Mom added quickly. "To the world. He shouldn't be here."

My breath caught. It was the first ever acknowledgment that my dad existed. But what did it mean? "To the world? How do you figure that?"

"I do not want to talk about it," Mom reiterated as she turned her back to me to put the dishes in the sink.

The doorbell made us jump. I got up. "Maybe it's him again!"

"I'll check," Mom said firmly, but I followed anyway.

Together we crept toward the front door. Mom sidled up to the window and pulled aside the curtain. I peeked around her shoulder. Illuminated in the porch light was Bea, who was staring at the house, frowning. Bea still had her hair up in pigtails, but she'd changed into "serious" witch clothing: a turtleneck, jeans, and a leather jacket.

"It's only Bea," Mom said, and I heard her let out a relieved breath.

Once the door was opened and hugs went around, Bea pointed to the ceiling and asked, "What's up with the super wards? Mom almost drove right past the house. And a spider exploded on your porch."

"Sorry," Mom said. "We had an unexpected guest."

"My dad," I supplied.

"Seriously!" Bea squealed, taking my hands. "What was he like?"

"Well, kind of younger than I would have expected." I slid my eyes over to Mom, who frowned so deeply lines showed on her face.

Bea's smile was wide and mischievous.

"He's older than he looks," Mom said gruffly.

More confirmation? I felt my face pale; it really was my dad!

Mom sensed her tactical error and gave an irritated wave in the direction of the staircase. "You should get dressed, Ana. We're going to be late."

Bea and I scooted up the stairs before Mom could waylay Bea and keep us from gossiping. Once upstairs, I quickly shut the door.

Bea flicked on a lamp on the nightstand, and then flopped dramatically onto the quilted bedspread. "Tell me everything!"

Opening the door of the closet, I started rummaging through my clothes. I pulled out a dress and showed it to Bea, who shook her head. "Well." I shrugged. "It was weird. You know, I always thought he might be dead. We never hear from him. Now that it's my birthday, he just sort of showed up. And . . . I think he was hurt. He didn't want me to go to the Initiation. Mom yelled at him and wrapped him in a spiderweb."

"What? Seriously?"

"Yeah." I paused to lean against the closet door. "She used a spell I'd never heard of and suddenly Ramses--uh, that's Dad--was all mummified. He never got a chance to say more than boo. Well, actually, he managed to say stuff, but nothing that made sense. He said all sorts of crazy things about enemies and armies and blood claims. I don't know. Honestly, it's really hard to take it all in."

"Do you think, you know, he was high or something?"

The thought hadn't occurred to me. It didn't seem right, though. I shook my head. "He was wounded. Bleeding from a cut on his side." I lifted my arm to show her the smear. Bea gasped excitedly and jumped up to examine me.

"We've got to wash this off!" A note of horror crept into her voice as she dragged me off to the bathroom.

As she lathered, rinsed, and repeated my arm, it occurred to me that I supposed I should have freaked out more. A strange man bled all over me. Not cool.

But I could hardly unravel any of it, much less work up concern over infectious-disease control. My head was spinning. I still didn't even really know who that guy had been. Was he my dad? Really? And was my dad a vampire? Or insane? Or both?

Bea looked at me, her eyes searching. "What kind of person shows up at someone's house bleeding?"

Someone not normal. The implication was obvious in Bea's tone. Yeah. I could hardly argue with that. Vampire or not, the guy was weird. I grabbed a towel and carefully wiped my arm.

Bea watched me with a kind of sad look, like she felt sorry for me. Was it because she thought my dad was some kind of homeless crazy guy or . . . no, Bea would never keep a secret like this from me. Would she?

"So, what did he look like?"

We made our way back to my bedroom as I considered what to say. Once there, I busied myself with returning the dress to the hanger, and then choosing a black silk blouse. I held the blouse up to my chest and checked my look in the full-length mirror on the closet door. My reflection was pale and skinny, but the s.h.i.+rt swished in a way that at least showed off what few curves I possessed. Still, it looked a bit dowdy. I pulled out my sparkly halter top.

"He was pale." I touched my own face in memory. Ugh, you could almost see the veins at my temple. I brushed my bangs to cover them. Pointing to my blue eye, I said, "His eyes were like this one."

"Was he tall? Handsome?"

I gave her a you-gross-me-out expression. "I didn't notice that stuff. I mean, he might be my dad, you know?"

"You're not sure that he's your dad?"

I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure, but, you know, Mom won't confirm or deny. . . . What am I supposed to think? " I pulled off my s.h.i.+rt, and I wiggled into the halter top. When I put the blouse over the top, the combination was serious enough for the ritual, but looked a bit s.e.xy too.

"You look outstanding," Bea said sincerely. Bea tended toward voluptuousness, and, of course, always admired my stick figure. Meanwhile, I wished I were more curvaceous, like Bea. Bea stood and threw her arms around me and smiled at our reflections. "Like a witch without her hat."

"Speaking of a perfect accessory, I almost forgot this." I grabbed her necklace from where I'd looped it over my dresser mirror. The beads tingled warmly against my skin. The G.o.ddess figurine slid into the hollow between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Perfect," Bea said.

We admired ourselves for a moment until I broke the mood by asking, "You know tonight is going to suck, right?"

"No, I'm telling you. My aunt Diane had a dream. Tonight is going to be remembered forever." Bea's aunt Diane was a well-known clairvoyant dreamer in the coven. It was rare her dreams didn't come true.

"That doesn't mean it's going to go well," I reminded Bea. "It could be remembered for being the most awfulest ever."

"You know, your mom might be right. You do need a shot of self-confidence. You have to remember, Ana: you're one of us. The family. The G.o.ddess doesn't abandon her own."

What about my other half--the half that came from my dad? But I kept my mouth shut, and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose a miracle could occur."

"Now you're talking," Bea said.

LUCKILY, BEA KEPT UP A constant chatter in the backseat, because the car ride to the covenstead was awkward.

Mom had changed into a lovely full-length dress I'd never seen before. It was emerald green velvet and had long, droopy sleeves and gold embroidering like something out of medieval times. I tried to compliment her on it, but Mom turned the simple words into an argument about clothes.

Mom complained that I should have chosen something more befitting the seriousness of the occasion. I thought I had, and then grumbled about how there really was no point, since the whole thing was going to go to h.e.l.l anyway.

For some reason, mentioning "h.e.l.l" really set Mom off, and she hadn't spoken since.

Maybe Ramses was the Prince of h.e.l.l.

"My mom sends her regards, by the way," Bea said from the back.

That was the other elephant in the room, or car, as the case might be. Bea's mom wasn't part of the Inner Circle of the coven. She'd failed her Initiation. Just like I was about to.

"I wish it wasn't against the rules for your mom to come," I said kindly. What must it be like for her? All the members of Bea's family were big muckety-mucks in the coven except her mom. Even Bea's dad would be there, since he was an Elder and a high priest.

"Tonight is only for True Witches," Mom said.

I shot her a hard look. That dig wasn't necessary. And would she be so unkind when her own daughter was relegated to the Outer Court?

"Mom made an awesome treat for the cakes and ale," Bea said, totally ignoring both the cruelty and the pity. "Papa took it with him, when he went to set up."

"Oh, I love your mom's cooking!" I said honestly, happy to pick up the cue to change the subject. Bea's mom might not be Inner Circle, but she was a kitchen witch bar none. "What did she make?"

"Little savory pies. Enough for everyone, with vegetarian, vegan, nondairy, and gluten-free options!"

Bea and I laughed. It was a private joke. We always found all the different food restrictions amusing. Bea had once teased that witches like to make something for everyone, even the people who kept kosher!

"I don't know what you find so funny. That's a lot of work your mother put in," Mom said humorlessly from the driver's seat.

Boy, Mom was in a bad mood. How long until we arrived? I checked the dashboard clock: ten more minutes. The city was long behind us, and the car rolled along darkened cornfields, their tall stalks stiff and straight in perfect rows. Dark sky stretched overhead, twinkling with a mult.i.tude of stars. The moon rose full and round in the east.

"It couldn't be a more perfect night," I said. It had been cold and rainy just the day before, but today the clouds broke. The temperature of the evening air was cool, maybe sixty degrees. I'd brought along a cape to drape over my shoulders, but I wondered if I'd need it after all.

"Martha always makes the weather just right for the Initiation," Mom said with a smile. Martha was the coven's weather witch. In the Circle they called her "Grandmother Storm," because it was rumored she once conjured a great storm after a long drought. "I wonder what your gift will be, Ana."

Along with casting the circle, the initiates were expected to receive a kind of magical calling tonight, a special skill that they would develop while working in the coven. Bea hoped to be a diviner, since she loved working with astrology and tarot cards so much.

Honestly? What I wanted more than anything was simple. I wanted my name to be written in the great book. Everyone had said having an Initiation on my birthday would be so fortunate. I just wanted to survive it without too much embarra.s.sment for everyone involved.

"Yeah, I wonder," I said wistfully. "Did you get what you wanted, Mom?"

Instantly, I knew I'd said something wrong again. By the light of the dash, I saw Mom's lips tighten. "No," she said simply. "Not entirely."

Bea and I exchanged a look. What do you suppose that meant? Bea opened her mouth as though to ask, but I shook my head in warning. Best not to push her. Mom revealed secrets only by accident.

We rode the rest of the way in silence, each lost in her own thoughts. I watched the fields roll by, which, after a turn to the left, quickly became tangled woods. We were nearly there! Shadows of oak and maple darkened the road, and Mom flicked on her high beams, watchful for rabbit or deer. Slowing the car, we scanned for the turnoff, which was easy to miss, thanks to the trees and the warding. I spotted it first. "There," I said, pointing, as Mom smoothly guided the car onto an unpaved dirt road that was little more than tire tracks.

I loved the covenstead. Most of it was undeveloped, except a small cabin near a swampy lake. I'd spent many happy summer days in my childhood wandering the forest and swimming in the mucky water, sort of like some people did at their "cabins up north." Except my cabin belonged to about twelve families, all of whom used it for recreation and, most often, for magic.

The night seemed darker the deeper we drove into the coven's property. Tall trees crowded the border of the narrow path, and occasionally a branch of an overgrown bush sc.r.a.ped noisily against the car's frame. The air felt expectant and heavy, like just before rain.

Something whitish flashed through the woods, as though at a gallop. I thought it might be the tail of a deer, so I said, "Slow down. There's a buck or something out there."

Mom put her foot on the brake, and we all scanned the forest. Hitting a deer could crack a radiator or worse. On top of potentially wrecking the car, there was the fact that killing a deer would be a very inauspicious beginning to the Initiation.

"Are you sure?" Mom asked after a moment of agonizingly slow progress. "I don't see anything."

Whatever it had been was long gone. "It must have really been cruising," I said. "There's no sign of it now."

Mom brought the car up to speed, such as it was on the narrow pa.s.sage. I recognized the stand of birch trees ahead; we were almost to the bend in the road that would bring the covenstead in view.

I hugged myself in the dim interior of the car. This was it. The big night. Bea and I had imagined this so many times; my heart began to race with antic.i.p.ation. Just ahead, the woods opened to a clearing that was littered with cars. We b.u.mped along the uneven gra.s.s to find an empty spot. Scanning the vehicles, I noted familiar b.u.mper stickers and license plates. It looked like almost everyone was here already.

"Oh, I'm so excited," Bea said, bouncing happily in her seat in the back.

Even Mom cracked a smile. "You girls will do great. I just know it."

"Did Aunt Diane tell you about her dream? " Bea asked Mom. "This year will be memorable."

Mom gave me a proud, anxious look. "I hope she's right."

"Memorable doesn't necessarily mean good," I reminded everyone quietly as Mom pulled the car into an empty spot between a large oak stump and a dusty white van.

"Stop being such a pessimist," Bea said with a broad smile. "It's going to be great."

I still wasn't convinced, but Bea's enthusiasm was infectious. I could feel myself smiling back, despite my worries. Once out of the car, Bea grabbed my hand with a giggle. She pulled me, bounding, to the back door of the cabin. I couldn't help but laugh along.

The covenstead was built by hand sometime in the 1970s. Everything about it was very "back to the land," from its rough-hewn exterior to the broad, communal floor plan. We let ourselves in and slipped our shoes off in the mudroom, which was really not much more than a long hallway with a few benches and pegs on the wall for hanging coats. There were several dozen shoes and coats already piled around, and we could hear the murmur of voices and laughter in the living room.

"I wonder if Nikolai is here." Bea twirled her pigtails as she whispered in my ear.

I rolled my eyes. He was supercute and everything, but I didn't quite understand why Bea got all weak-kneed around him. Maybe it was the band thing. Rockers always had a big appeal for Bea. Of course, who was I kidding? If I thought I had a chance with him, I'd be all over that. "We're a bit late, though not quite on 'pagan time' yet," I said, but Bea was already out of her shoes and into the living room to find out.

I took my time, slowly untying my Converses. Despite my growing enthusiasm, I remembered Ramses' words of warning.

Just then, Mom came in, carrying a grocery bag of supplies from the trunk. "Oh," Mom said, seeing me sitting on the bench. "I thought you'd be mingling by now. You're not still nervous, are you?"

"Why won't you talk to me about Dad? Is he really that horrible?" Despite myself, my voice trembled.

Setting the bag down by the door, Mom slid onto the bench next to me. She put an arm around my shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I do owe you some explanation. After all, in a matter of hours you'll be a full member of this coven and all our secrets will be yours to keep as well."

I could hardly believe my ears. I held my breath.

"Your father isn't one of us. He's from the other side. Our union--him and me--well, it was meant to be a peace treaty of sorts, but it was a mistake from the beginning."

Six.

A mistake? Did she mean me?

Mom saw my expression and shook her head. "It's very important that before I tell you more, you pa.s.s your Initiation. You see, your father is at the center of all this, and I'm so angry at him for showing up tonight and putting crazy thoughts into your head. You need to focus on the Initiation. Try to put him out of your mind for now, okay? I promise it will all make sense soon."