Tierney slid in the seat next to Raquel.
She didn’t really want to be in the middle of the cafeteria,
surrounded by people who didn’t realize the turmoil her life was in, and who
wouldn’t understand if they did. Surrounded by people whose greatest worry was
whether they passed the next biology exam.
“Hey, Tierney!” Jordana greeted her. Murmurs of greeting resounded
around the table.
Tierney smiled weakly at the group of people, some of whom she knew
well and some of whom she didn’t. The lunch crowd changed so often that it was
hard to tell who was going to be there from one day to the next. The regulars were there, of course --
Julien, Adrien, Raquel, Jordana, and her -- but the others changed as
frequently as the Collective changed clothes.
“Hi,” she responded. Her mind was in too much turbulence to dredge
up anything else to say.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Raquel demanded, staring
disapprovingly at the empty space in front of her friend. “I thought you were
going to get money.”
Oops. In the aftermath of Dare’s callousness, she’d completely
forgotten. “It wasn’t in my locker. I
must have left it at home.”
Adrien sighed and shifted in his chair, dipping his hand into his
pocket. “You can pay me back later,” he said, holding out a few bills
expectantly.
Tierney shook her head. “I’ll just get something after school. It’s
not a big deal.”
“Tierney, you need to eat!”
Raquel’s vehement declaration amused Tierney, mostly because Raquel
often boycotted lunch herself, simply because she was too keyed up to eat. But
Raquel seemed more inclined to look after Tierney’s well-being than she did her
own, and vice versa.
“I’m not hungry.”
Despite the gentle amusement in her voice, Adrien and Julien still
looked worried. Admittedly, it wasn’t like her not to eat. On the other hand,
these were her friends, not her parents, and while she appreciated their
concern, she knew eating would not agree well with her rioting stomach. Every
time she thought of Dare, she wanted to be sick.
Willing herself not to look in the direction of his table, she
wondered again what had gone so horribly wrong, and why. She’d completed the
spell exactly as the directions stated, down to the fine print. And though
she’d gotten what she wanted, Fate had thrown her obstacles that suddenly
seemed insurmountable, and that counteracted the very point of performing the
spell. If this was some sadistic way of telling her not to mess with nature,
she’d more than learned her lesson.
But in the meantime, she needed to find Jihn. Sweeping her gaze
over the cafeteria, she willed herself not to let her gaze fall and rest
longingly on that spiky golden head, whose charring eyes burned her even with
the space between them. She could hear his words as if he still spoke them,
ultimatums slipping as easily from his lips as arrows might pierce her heart.
Her heart bled just the same.
“Are you sure?” Adrien frowned, still waving the money in front of
her face and interrupting her thoughts. “It’s really not a big deal.”
“Neither is skipping one meal,” Tierney countered. She pushed his
hand away and maintained her resolute expression. “I promise I’m not going
anorexic on you.”
The last was said soberly, because she knew that was one of Adrien’s
biggest concerns. In junior high, he’d been friends with a girl who’d been
hospitalized for anorexia, whose parents had moved away the same week she’d
been released. He hated when people didn’t eat.
He pocketed the dollar, but didn’t look completely convinced. “If I
don’t see you eat something after school, you’ll be sorry.”
“Yeah, he’ll shove it down your throat,” Raquel grumbled, then
smiled sweetly at him. Tossing her platinum hair over her shoulder, she leaned
forward and patted his hand reassuringly. “You know I love you, Aid.”
Julien rolled his eyes, while Adrien glared. Then Julien asked,
“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow some money, Tier?”
“Positive,” she said firmly, but her voice warmed. The dimples in
his cheeks flashed alarmingly, and blushing, she looked away. Why did nature
distribute such grossly unfair looks all in one place? Her pulse rate wasn’t
handling it too well anymore. Before, it hadn’t mattered, because he’d just
been another one of the guys, hadn’t wanted her. Now, Raquel had convinced her
that he did, and every look sent her into near hyperventilation.
“After school,” Adrien reminded her direly.
She rolled her eyes and brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “I
promise.” Then, catching Dare looking at her out of the corner of her eye, her
jaw tightened. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going now?” Raquel asked curiously, appearing
confounded by Tierney’s newfound tendency to disappear at random intervals.
She stared hard in his direction. “I forgot to give Dare Drache the
calculus problems yesterday.”
“Wear a blindfold.”
The people not in their core crowd snickered at Raquel’s comment,
but Tierney barely spared her a glance. She stood, meeting that glittering gold
gaze directly, then strode purposefully in his direction.
She didn’t have far to go. His table was only one away, so close
they looked as though they’d chosen that distance on purpose. But then she saw
Teresa staring at Adrien and Lindsay doing the same to Julien, and realized the
guys had probably had very little choice in the matter. Without a word, she sat
down in the only empty seat at the table, which just so happened to be right
across from Dare.
Byron scowled. “What d’you want?”
“None of your damned business,” she responded pleasantly, focusing
her attention on Dare. He didn’t say anything, simply watched her with that
smug smile, the tilted corners of his mouth screaming that he’d won. Byron
blinked, offended.
“You’re contaminating our breathing space,” Teresa answered
waspishly, taking in Tierney’s outfit, which was far more expensive and far
more stylish than hers. Her chin tilted up another inch, until Tierney thought
she might fall over. “I think that
makes it his ‘damned business.’”
“If you don’t like it, you can move,” Tierney snapped, her
frustration and anger finally breaking after days of abuse. What did she need
them for anyway? Nothing. Her voice went from pleasant to cold in less time
than it took to shatter glass and with as much ferociousness. “I could really
care less about your breathing, though it’s delightful that you know more than
five letter words.”
Teresa drew in a sharp breath of outrage, her blue eyes shining
rheumy and hateful. “No one gave you permission to sit here.” Enunciating each
word clearly, she said this with the stabbing certainty that Tierney was
beneath them.
“You’re not wanted,” Meera added frostily.
Tierney burst into laughter. “Believe me, this is the last place I
care about being wanted at. If you could see past your own pathetic
aspirations, you’d see you’re just being used.” Then she sobered and turned
back to Dare. “Have you thought about this?” she asked, her voice no less cold
than when she spoke to the Collective. “Have you thought about what you’re
doing?”
“Oh, it’s not what I’ve done, but what you’ve done,” he answered
silkily. “Now it’s time for you to fix it.”
“I think we’ve covered that,” she responded flatly. She pushed her
palms against the top of the table and tried to put what she felt into words.
Anger gave her unexpected courage. “That wasn’t the question.”
“Which part of ‘you’re not wanted’ didn’t you understand?”
“Shut up.” Ignoring Meera’s interruption as though it had never
happened, she continued to watch Dare through unblinking hazel eyes.
He shifted under that relentless stare, losing none of his cocky
assurance. “There’s nothing to think about. I know what I’m doing.”
“I wonder.”
His eyes flared at the empty curiosity, the pupils shrinking to dots
as empty as his heart. “You certainly didn’t, now did you?”
As always, he aimed for the soul, and struck dead center. It
wouldn’t be enough to simply hurt her, though he did that, too. Oh, no. Nothing
that easy. No, his revenge was far more sweet. Not only would he make her give
up her newfound beauty -- though they both knew it was worthless to her -- but
he insisted on wounding her in the process. And what better way to do that than
to ravage any hope to which she might still cling?
He would destroy her, leaving her a shell of what she was.
Defenseless against the jibes of others who might be more aesthetically
pleasing, but who were worthless as people. As humans. For just a moment, she
let his contempt wash over her and extend it to the girls around her. How apt
that they were little more than blood banks and too stupid to realize
otherwise.
She wouldn’t let him get to her this time. “I wasn’t too horrified
with the results,” she shrugged, reaching for a double-chocolate chip cookie on
his tray, more because she knew it would anger him than anything else.
Biting into the cookie, she noticed his face darken. Good.
“Are you so sure about that?”
Struck by how closely he parroted her earlier words, she paused
with the cookie halfway to her mouth. “I don’t have anything to complain
about.”
“Except me,” he said softly, leaning over and plucking the cookie
from her hand. “And if you’re not careful, you’ll do a lot more than complain.”
Oh, what a shock. More threats. Instead of responding to that, she
smiled, triumph lining her face. “You say that now, Darius Drache, but you
forget that I hold the whole damned deck of cards. You don’t want me to burn
them, now do you?”
Without giving him a chance to reply, she stood and walked away,
letting the Collective’s malicious chatter wash over her. With a few vindictively whispered words,
they were wearing their food as opposed to looking at it. Laughter erupted
through the cafeteria.
Immature? Definitely. But sometimes a little well-placed immaturity
did wonders for a person’s vengeful streak, and hers had been clamoring for
quite some time.
Veering to the right, she headed to where Jihn sat, staring at the
Collective with some interest. She looked up when Tierney approached. “Your
doing?” she asked, nodding in the three girls’ direction.
Tierney just shrugged, slipping in the seat across from Jihn. “Why
are you eating alone?” she questioned instead, frowning at Jihn’s mostly empty
plate. Though she would guess it hadn’t been too full to begin with. “You could
have sat with us.”
Shaking her head, Jihn somehow seemed uneasy, though she maintained
her emotionless façade. “No, I think it’s a better idea to let Raquel to come
to me. If I force myself on her, she might start to get suspicious.”
And, of course, Jihn was right. It amazed Tierney how perceptive
the vampire could be, despite her marked dislike for humans and the Nightworld
alike. So instead of pursing that with anything other than a murmured
agreement, she changed the subject. “Jihn, can I ask you a favor?”
Jihn’s hooded green eyes expressed mild curiosity. “Depends on what
you want.”
She hesitated a moment before answering Jihn’s unspoken but implied
question. “I need a spell.”
“Again?” Still just that hint of surprise, but maybe a touch of
annoyance as well. “Can’t you get it yourself?”
Tierney took a deep breath. “I’m guessing it’s forbidden,” she
admitted.
For a moment the lamia didn’t say anything. “Tell me what you
want,” she finally sighed.
Now Tierney felt queasy. This was the hard part, telling Jihn she
needed to actually see the witch herself this time. She didn’t imagine Jihn
would be thrilled at giving the name of her contact. “I can’t exactly do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what I want,” Tierney said. Swallowing hard,
she said, “I need the counterspell for the one you got me.”
Jihn was at a loss, evidenced by the bewilderment shining in those
liquid leaf eyes. “Did it not do what you wanted? It’s what you asked for.”
“Not exactly.” Her voice lost its apologetic notes, filled now with
a sort of bitter irony. “It was close to what I wanted, but it did something I
didn’t expect. It transferred our looks instead of reflecting his to me.”
“I think we had this discussion.” Appearing bored -- not anything
unusual -- Jihn sat back. “Dare’s ugly. So what?”
“We did have this discussion,” Tierney acknowledged, then slumped
in her chair and tried to find the words to explain her predicament to Jihn.
When she looked up, she found Dare still staring at her as if in reminder of
what she’d promised.
Jihn followed the direction of her gaze and smiled. “Then we don’t
need to have it again.”
A frustrated sound erupted from Tierney’s lips. “We do need to have
it again. I have to fix this. Look, I made a mistake. I don’t *want* this
anymore.” She wanted to cry, despite her resolution to stay strong. She hadn’t
sobbed in front of Dare. Why Jihn? Maybe because she had the sneaking suspicion
that Jihn might care.
But Jihn wasn’t being cooperative or helpful. “You don’t want
what?”
“I don’t want Dare,” Tierney whispered miserably. “I don’t want to
deal with his hatred. I don’t want to be chased by him in the halls. I thought
being beautiful might change things, but it hasn’t. All it’s done is make
things worse.”
“It gives new meaning to the adage that beauty is only skin deep,
doesn’t it?”
The quip lacked any mockery and Tierney could find none on Jihn’s
face when she looked up. Only a resigned pity, which might be somehow worse.
She didn’t want anyone’s pity and especially not Jihn’s. “Please, Jihn. Give me
her name.”
Now Jihn did look surprised. “How do you know the witch is a she?”
“Lucky guess.” And it really was.
After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Jihn seemed to come to
a decision. She reached over to the stack of books sitting near her tray,
flipping open one of the notebooks. Scribbling down what looked like a name and
number, she ripped it out and tossed it to Tierney. “Her name is Miranda. If she
asks, give her my name and tell her I’ll make it up to her later.” Then a hint
of a smile played on her features. “Don’t let her bully you into not taking it.
She likes to try that.”
Picking up the scrap of paper, Tierney met Jihn’s eyes soberly.
“Thank you.”
Jihn sat back, subdued. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t make me regret
it.”
Tierney could only nod.
***
She spent the rest of the day working up the courage to actually
visit the witch. But delaying would only anger Dare, and the sooner she got it
over with the sooner he would stop with his idle and vague threats. If only
they were either.
She had no doubt he would actually do exactly what he said.
And now she was, sitting with her parents in the middle of the massive
dining room, trying to make small talk when she really just wanted to hide from
all her problems. Talking about her day only made things worse. Her mother had
actually cooked, though -- something she rarely did or rarely needed to do --
and Tierney would feel bad abandoning her mother’s efforts.
“I sent the cook home early today,” her mother was saying, her
voice echoing in the room’s cavernous silence. ”She didn’t look well.”
Ah, something to explain her sudden rash of graciousness. Her
parents were away so often they rarely let anyone go home early, because they
had little to do as it was. How hard could it be to clean up after people who
were never there? Tierney had learned early on not to make a mess.
She stabbed a broccoli stalk with her fork. Her mother must be
worried the cook would pass on whatever illness she had to them. Silently
poking the chicken, she listened to her father clear his throat.
“It’s nice to have just the three of us,” he murmured. No doubt he
worried the food was drenching in magic as well as spices. “We’ve missed you,
Tierney.”
She believed it, too. They always missed her, but never enough that
they stayed home. She’d resigned herself to their nomadic lifestyle long ago.
Before she started school, she used to go with them. Now their trips were
limited to summer vacation. “I missed you, too,” she said. She even meant it.
“What did you do while we were gone?” her father asked, swallowing
a forkful of chicken.
Oh, not much. Met my soulmate, found out he was a bastard, did a
spell to reverse our looks... The usual. She’d bet that would go over
stunningly well. Out loud she said, “I studied a little and spent time at
Raquel’s house.”
Her mother beamed. For some strange reason, she adored Adrien and
Raquel -- and in that order, too -- more than anyone else Tierney brought home,
though not many people met that qualification. She briefly wondered what they
would think of Dare. Her father? He’d probably be appalled, while her mother
would be angry at his condescending attitude. Now that would be something to
see.
“Well, good,” her father said, also pleased. “How’s school going
for you?”
“It’s fine,” Tierney shrugged.
Her father nodded, apparently at a loss for what to say next. Then
his face brightened. “Any boys?”
“Kent,” her mother admonished, looking scandalized at the question,
“if she wants to tell us, she will.”
Tierney almost giggled. Her parents were so funny about protocol,
and it didn’t even matter. “It’s fine, Mom.” Still suppressing her smile, she
turned her attention back to her father. “No, Dad, no boys right now. Well,
unless you count my prom date.”
“Prom is this Friday, isn’t it?”
Surprised that her mother had known that, Tierney nodded. “Yeah, the
Grand March starts at five-thirty. Are you going to be there?”
They couldn’t have missed the hope rising in her voice. She saw the
glances they exchanged in a way they probably thought was covert, then her
mother smiled softly. “Of course, we’re going to be there. Who is your date?”
“Julien D’Angelo.” She stabbed another stalk of broccoli and tried
not to glow as she said his name. How ironic that his name made her gleam while
her soulmate’s made her cringe. If only this *were* a fairy tale, it might be
the other way around.
Her mother’s smile broadened. “He’s such a lovely boy. So polite.”
Swallowing the last piece of broccoli, she agreed. “He really is a
sweetheart.” More than you know, she added silently.
“So, ah...” her dad cleared his throat. “No romance there?”
Rolling her eyes, Tierney gathered up her plate. “We’ll see, Dad.”
She knew her parents despaired of her ever dating, but comments like that were
generally her cue to leave. “I have to go pick up my dress. I’ll be back around
eight, okay?” She slid around the table, dropped a kiss on her dad’s cheek,
then moved to give her mother a brief hug. “I’m so glad you guys are back,” she
said, then she ducked out of the room.
She’d much rather spend the night here with her parents, fending off
their questions about her love life than
searching for a spell to make Dare happy. She knew what she’d done had
been wrong and that it was her responsibility to fix it. And she also knew it
wouldn’t change that much. She just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
Earlier, she’d been so angry at him that she let her mouth run away
with her. Too angry to be afraid of him and of what he could do to her, she’d
taken a risk. But they both knew he really didn’t care. Her risk meant nothing.
Snagging her keys and her purse from the banister in the foyer, she
hurried outside. The number burned through the fabric of her shorts. So easy to
fix something that had taken such courage to cast. How unfair, she thought,
scowling at her car.
Then she got in, slipping the keys in the ignition and pulling out
of the driveway. She knew exactly where she was going.
The drive to Miranda’s shop was both short and easy, few turns to
take and even fewer chances to turn back. She’d been there before. She pulled
into the parking space and simply sat for a few moments, willing herself the
motivation to go inside. It wasn’t an easy feat.
Gathering the last shreds of her resolve, she opened the door and
stepped into the crisp, salt-laden air. When the door slammed, a light
flickered inside the shop. Miranda must be waiting for her. She took a deep
breath and then ran lightly to the glass door strung with seashells and
crystals.
Miranda met her at the door. Her long copper hair was swept back
into an artfully mess at the back of her head, tendrils wisping at her nape.
“Tierney?” she asked quietly once she opened the door.
Tierney nodded. The witch
let her in, then locked the glass door securely behind her. Her eyes, a cross between
violet and blue, met Tierney’s frankly, and the latter felt she was being
measured. As usual, she was probably falling endlessly short.
The hushed pause seemed to last for an eternity, but then Miranda
said, “So you’re the one Jihn got the spell for.”
Again, Tierney could only nod, except that this time she felt tears
swim in her eyes. How had everything gone so horribly wrong? “Yeah, I’m the
one.”
“And now you want the counterspell.”
“I have to do something,” Tierney admitted miserably. She followed
the witch deeper into the shop and fell silent as she flipped lights on and off
as they entered and exited rooms too big to be buried in this tiny building.
Sometimes illusion was everything and sometimes it was nothing, as she well
knew. What good had it done her?
Finally Miranda stopped. “I gave you the spell you wanted. You
should learn to live with the consequences if you’re going to play games with
nature.”
The soberness in the witch’s voice stunned her almost as much as
the truth of her words. She should have thought about the consequences before
she’d ever performed the spell. Of course, that didn’t change what had to be
done, or what Tierney wanted, or what had happened. The end result was still
the same, no matter how much she wished she hadn’t done it. Sometimes hindsight
was a killer.
Anyway, she wouldn’t call it a game. Games were for amusement, but
she wasn’t amused and hadn’t expected to be. Oh, no, her expectations had been
far different... Not to mention far removed from what she’d ended up with.
She leaned back against the soft mauve wall. “I know. I just...” A
sigh. “I just didn’t mean for this to happen.”
A sharp, keen stare swiveled in her direction. “You didn’t mean for
what to happen?”
Tierney tilted her head back and peered at the ceiling. “I didn’t
mean to transfer Dare’s looks to me and vice versa. I thought we would both be
beautiful, instead of turning me beautiful and turning him into the walking
image of a slug. I thought--“ She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know what I
thought.”
Miranda looked at her with renewed interest, surprise furrowing her
brow. “It didn’t transfer Dare’s looks to you, Tierney.”
Somehow, those words made everything crystal clear. All her
suspicions about the spell had been wrong. It hadn’t stolen Dare’s beauty.
Thievery would make things too simple, would diminish the importance of what
had happened. And she suddenly realized with chilling certainty what had
occurred, even while she hoped the witch would deny it.
If Dare had a soul at all, if he and Tierney were meant for each
other, they would be equal in their beauty. They would be perfect, and perfect
for each other. But his cruelty and uncaring screamed a different conclusion
all together.
Miranda’s next words proved her right, falling hard and heavy on
her ears.
“This spell outwardly reflects your inner soul.”
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