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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Instructing the Tutor"  It's a big house, and there's no reason Lucy should suspect anyone of being in it. It seems easiest just to hide. You scurry into the bedroom Blackwell gave you, quietly shut the door and scoot yourself under the bed. Not until you have recovered your breath and are listening to the soft thump of the pulse in your ears do you realize that, if Lucy can't find you, still less will you be able to hear her. Long minutes pass as you strain to catch the hint of a footfall or other movement in the house. But never do you hear so much as the creak of a floorboard or the thud of a door. How long is she likely to be here? you wonder. Did she stop by to see if Blackwell was back, and leave when she found the front door locked? (You did lock it behind you, didn't you?) Did she just come in to drop off a paper or pick up a book? Is she in the library now, reading and taking notes? Or is she up in the workroom, conducting a magical experiment of her own? You've no way to tell. Your boredom and impatience soon mount. How long can you wait her out? How long have you been waiting already? You pull out your cell phone to check the time—4:12—and give yourself five minutes before going out to check the coast, but when 4:20 comes you give yourself yet another ten minutes. But by 4:35—by which point you've started to turn drowsy—you've come up with another idea. You squeeze your face between your hand, one hand cupping your chin and the other gripping your brow, and pull Kelly Cooper's mask off. * * * * * "Oh, you're up," you exclaim when you enter the living room to find Rob watching the TV. "Did you find my note?" He grunts without taking his eyes off the ball game. "Is Chelsea back yet?" you ask. He grunts again, this time giving it a negative intonation. "Well, I guess I'll do my seven miles," you sigh, and stride off toward the laundry room, where your exercise clothes are. As you strip and change into shorts and a sports bra, you remember to check your phone (which you turned off inside Blackwell's and forgot to turn back on) and find a text from Chelsea telling you she's eating with Gordon and will be home late. With a spiteful satisfaction, you reply with a text reminding her that tomorrow is a school day. So the trip to Blackwell's turned into a total bust. You quietly emerged from the bedroom in your own face and an extra set of clothes to find the house completely empty, and Lucy's SUV gone when you looked out the window. A quick search of the house, from the library to the workroom, turned up nothing unexpected, so you're not even sure she came inside. Still, Lucy's visit spooked you enough that you didn't resume work on the mens but instead bugged out. But you didn't come home empty-handed. On your way in, you paused at one of the decorative bookshelves long enough to slide a dumpy old book into a gap next to a Bible (where, hopefully, it won't start any fires). No one in the Cooper household so much as looks at a bookcase, let alone pulls anything off of one, so it's the safest hiding place in the world for the copy of The Book of Miriam that you lifted from Blackwell's library. You've finished your workout and taken a shower before you hear Chelsea come in, but it's hard to miss her voice when she does. Her shrieks batter at your bedroom door from the hallway beyond: an inarticulate, screeching babble of angry words. Great! you think. Something for me to yell at her about! "What in the name of all that's holy is going on out here?" you demand as you wrench your bedroom door open. Chelsea and Jordan, chest to outthrust chest, are glaring at each other at the other end of the hallway. "Chelsea, if you can't keep your tone done—" "I didn't start it this time!" Chelsea yells. Her eyes are puffy and red as she whirls on you. "Jordan and—!" She presses a fist to her nose and runs into her room, slamming the door behind her. "I didn't do anything!" Jordan protests. "I was just standing up here with Elise when Chelsea comes up, and she says—" But he catches himself, and starts to turn as pink as a grapefruit. "What did Chelsea say?" you ask him. He makes a face and kicks at the carpet. "Oh, just something about, 'Taking it back to a dorm room.' But we were hardly—! Elise was just getting ready to go is all!" "Elise? I didn't even know she was here. Where is she now?" "She ran downstairs." Your jaw drops. "Then what are you standing here for?" You grab him by the shoulder. "Why are you arguing with your sister for when your girlfriend—?" That finally puts Jordan in motion, and thundering like a sackful of elephants he tumbles down the stairs after Elise Turner. You toss an exasperated sigh after him, then turn to Chelsea's room. "I'm not knocking, young lady," you announce as you barge in. "Behavior like this is unacceptable! You don't just go storming off when I'm talking to you!" Chelsea, her face red and stained with tears, glares back at you from atop her bed, but doesn't answer. "Now, I am royally furious with you, little miss," you continue, "but I pride myself on being a fair and open-minded mother, and even though you've been treating me like a pile of your own poo these last few days, with sulks and backtalk and dirty looks—and don't think I haven't been catching them!—I will give you a chance to explain this little fit you threw before I drop the hammer. So what have you got to say for yourself?" Chelsea looks like she wants to belch fire, but she keeps her temper and answers in a low, trembling voice. "I was just coming upstairs, and Jordan and Elise were standing in his doorway. And they were—" She bites her tongue and glowers. "They were doing what?" you demand. "You have one chance to make your case, li'l darlin', so you better make it good. Jordan says he was telling her goodnight." "He had his hand down the front of her shorts!" Chelsea screams at the top of her lungs. You feel the fire blaze into your eyes, but you keep control of yourself as you push her door shut. "I told you to explain yourself, Chelsea. I didn't tell you to do it at the top of your lungs." "So is it okay if he does that?" she screeches. "In front of me?" "He didn't know you were there. Did he?" you continue as Chelsea only glares. "Then it was just an accident." "Sure, it was an accident," she sneers. "An accident that he had his finger up inside her— her—" "You don't know that and you keep your mind and tongue out of the gutter! That's your brother you're talking about!" "And it's his sister he's doing it in front of!" "Obviously he didn't know you were—" "Gyuuuuhhhhh!" Chelsea throws herself backwards onto the bed so hard she bounces. "So it's okay that he does it in the house, but it's not okay for me to accidentally come around the corner and see it! Is that it?" "Whether it's okay for him or not is between him and me and your father. What did you say to them? Chelsea?" You drop your voice to a growl when she doesn't answer right away. "I told them to go find a motel room. Okay?" You loose Kelly Cooper's most theatrical gasp. "Chelsea Courtenay Cooper, I raised you better than that! Elise Turner was a guest in this house, and you don't—" "If she was a guest in this house, why was she letting Jordan finger her in our upstairs hallway?" Chelsea's face, by now, is purple. "I didn't say she behaved like a perfect guest, but Jordan's the one you talk to, because—" "I did talk to him! I told him to find a motel room!" You glower at her with your hands on your hips, but you keep your voice low and relentless. "Let me explain how you handle this kind of thing, Chelsea. You don't say anything to or in front of the guest. You see something like that, you look at them, you turn away, you ignore it. I know you probably wanted to make Elise feel like trash, but right now she's not feeling ashamed, she's just feeling angry with you. If you'd let her know you saw her but said nothing, you can bet your bottom pair of britches she wouldn't have let it happen again. She wouldn't even run the risk of letting it happen again! And then after she's gone, you go find Jordan and tell him what you thought of it. But you'd keep your voice low so no one else could hear you." Chelsea, whose complexion has been clearing up during this lecture, flushes again. "So you don't care about what goes on, you just don't want to know about it?" You feel your eyebrows shoot up. This couldn't have gone more perfect if I'd tried! you exult. "If you want me to care about it," you tell her, "then we'll put a new rule in effect. Elise can't come upstairs with Jordan anymore." Chelsea blinks and perks up. The corners of her lips jerk into a tiny, wary smile. You give her to the count of three to let her think she's won before you drop the hammer. "But it's the same rule for you. Gordon can't come upstairs with you anymore either." Chelsea stares. Then her face falls, and she gasps. "But Mom—!" "No buts! I trust Jordan with Elise about ten times more than I trust Gordon with you! From now on, you and him can study downstairs in the dining room, with your new tutor." It takes her a moment to catch on to "new tutor." And if you thought she was upset before, after she learns who her "new tutor" is ... Next: "The Unhappy Warlock" |
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