"Okay," Charlie admitted, "this is kind of bad."
"What do we do?" I asked.
He squeezed my hand quickly, as a kind of apology for what was probably going to happen next. "I have no idea," he said.
"Hello?" Brigid called again. She approached the door to the library, which was still open behind us. "Aunt Evelyn?" Brigid said. She came down the steps and looked at the two of us, first in confusion and then with a growing flurry of emotion.
"Charlie? Alisa?" she said, her voice wavering. "What are you two doing here?"
"Researching," Charlie said simply.
"Researching?" she said. "You came in here when we weren't here… both of you?"
Whether through magick or regular female intuition (which might also be magick, I don't know), Brigid seemed to know at once that there was a problem. She sat down on the bottom step, blocking our way out. Did kissing a witch leave a mark on your mouth? Did my lips glow? Could she see some kind of imprint?
"Alisa needed help." Chalrie said. "She's trying to find out about her ancestors, and Evelyn was definitely wasn't going to give her a hand. Sorry. We had to come in when Evelyn wasn't here."
"You could have told me," she said. "I would have helped you."
Oh. If we didn't feel bad before…
"So," she said, staring hard at me, "did you find anything?"
"A book," I said immediately realizing how stupid that answer was. I went to a library and found… a book. Not for the first time in my life, I wished the floor would open under me and swallow me whole.
After a few moments of silence it finally dawned on my that I should leave them alone. I didn't want to leave Charlie to the wolves or anything, but had no place here. They needed to talk. And I had a feeling Charlie was going to come clean about what had just occurred.
"I should probably go," I said, "before Evelyn gets home, like you said. She'd be furious to find me here."
"That might be a good idea." Charlie nodded. We probably realized at the same moment that he had driven me here.
"I'll walk back," I added. "I could use some fresh air." I tucked the book into my messenger bag. "I'll return this to Sam," I said to Brigid. "He'll put it back in the library." Then I did my walk of shame, crossing the room and headed to where she was perched.
Brigid slid aside to let me pass. She said nothing. She wouldn't—or couldn't—even look at me. As I stepped past, my leg brushed against her. I almost jumped as a surge went through that whole half of my body. I felt a wave of pure raw emotion coming off her. She might look furious, but inside, everything in her was weeping.
It was a long walk home through the mist and the wet, with my brain clanging between elation and guilt.
I mean, he kissed me. What was I supposed to do? Slap him, like they do in old movies. Call him a cad. I hadn't done anything wrong…it wasn't my fault…
But then I examined my motives. Did I want Charlie to kiss me? Yes. Was he my cousin's boyfriend? Yes.
Guilty.
I sucked. I sucked, I sucked, I sucked.
But still it had been the best moment of my life. I had touched his face and felt the tiny, soft curls at the back of his head, down near his neck. It had been good, so good, too good. I still felt like I was walking through an incredible dream.
Yet Brigid's feelings were still so close, so strong. She loved Charlie—who wouldn't? He was adorable and funny and smart. Tall. Powerful. She had turned her back for a moment—to be responsible and go to work, no less—and then her weird out-of-town cousin appeared, broke into her house, and made out with her boyfriend.
I trudged along, seagulls screaming overhead, my hair slowly collecting dampness for the air. It took me about forty-five minutes to get back to Sam's. When I got there, Enya was playing and delicious smells of garlic, fish, and cooking tomatoes were coming from the kitchen. Sam had obviously gone to the trouble to make sure I came back to a nice welcome—and I returned, the other woman, the coven wrecker…
"Did you have a good day?" Sam asked, putting a salad bowl out on the table.
"Great!" I said with forced enthusiasm.
"What did you do?"
"Oh," I said, picking up Mandu and letting him climb up on my shoulder, "just hung out with Charlie."
"Charlie's a great guy." Sam nodded. "A fantastic witch, too."
You have no idea, I thought… Sam looked up at me strangely, and I banished all thoughts of Charlie from my mind and set a straight and steady expression on my face.
"Before I forget," he said, "I found some pictures of your mother I wanted to show you. Could you watch the stove for a second? And feel free to start the salad."
"Sure," I said, setting the cat on the floor. As Sam headed for the stairs, I started making the salad, dumping the mesclun into the salad bowl and replaying the kiss again and again in my mind. I set it against the music, felt the surge of bliss thrumming through my body. Charlie was so handsome, so tall, so funny, so nice, so smart, so…
Taken. By my cousin. What was I thinking?
I tossed some vinaigrette into the greens a little more aggressively than was really necessary. The cats cocked their heads at me.
Just as I had the night before, I suddenly felt something in the pit of my stomach telling me that something was wrong, very wrong. I looked up, all senses alert. Something was here. A presence. Something very foul. I let go of the salad tongs and looked around the kitchen.
And then it happened.
The first blow was on my left arm, and it sent me reeling backward, pain jagging all the way down my hand. I heard glass shattering behind me. I whirled around to see all of the dishes flying out of the open rack under the cabinets, and they all came at me, one after the other. I didn't have time to move or think. Something broke against my head. Glass fell onto my eyelids. I pulled my arms up to guard my face and head as best I could, but the blows were coming harder, pushing me back against the wall.
Something in me stirred, ready to battle. I felt every fiber of my being tingling. I could stop this. I could…
I concentrated hard. Some of the dishes started to pop and splinter midair, before they got to me. It was as if they where smashing against an invisible wall, and I knew I was doing it. No idea how—but I was doing it. Some still made it through. There were so many. The drawers were rattling, coming loose, coming at me. I dropped to the ground and started crawling for the table, elbowing my way through the shards.
I could see Sam trying to get to me, but I felt myself growing weak. Everything went black and white, and there was a ringing in my ear that drowned out every other sound. I was fainting, I realized.
The next thing I knew, Sam was putting me down on the sofa. My clothes sparkled with bits of plate and drinking glass.
"I'm all glassy," I said, tears welling into my eyes. "Sam, I'm all glassy."
"I know," he said, checking over my head, my face, my eyes. "Look at me, Alisa. Look at me."
It was hard, but I focused on his face. He studied me.
"I'm going to take off my clothes," I said, standing uncertainly and wobbling from foot to foot. For some reason, the glass on my clothes was really preoccupying me. "I have to get this stuff away from me."
"Steady now, sweetheart." He looked over the shards that dangled like icicles from my clothes. He yanked a pair of pajama's from the top of my bag and set them down. "Get changed. I'll be back in a second."
I heard him run upstairs, heard the bang of a cabinet door. I pulled off my pants and T-shirt and dumped them in the center of the room. Then I put on some soothing fleece pants and the camisole pajama top. That was better. So much better.