White Witch, Black Curse

"It wasn't a problem, Robbie," my mom interrupted. "I knew she was probably going to be late. That's why I made what I did."

Robbie made that noise again, and I felt my blood pressure rise.

My mom got up and gave me a sideways squeeze. "If I knew you weren't trying to do ten things before the Turn, I'd be miffed. Want some coffee?"

"Yes. Thanks." My mom was pretty cool. It wasn't often that she took sides between Robbie and me, but he'd been on my case all night.

I handed him a plate, not letting go until he looked at me and I gave him a glare to get him to shut up. I really thought he'd been lying when he told me the book wasn't where he'd left it, trying to make me do things his way by force instead of persuasion—because persuasion wasn't going to work. I had to get up in that attic without my mom knowing. I didn't want to worry her. Snatching a ghost to get a demon to talk to you didn't sound safe even to me.

So when I handed the last dish to my brother, I used my perfect excuse, smiling as the sink drained. "Mom," I said as I dried my hands, "are my stuffed animals still in the attic? I have someone I want to give them to."

Robbie jerked, and my mom beamed. "I expect so," she said. "Who? Ceri's little girl?"

I allowed myself one superior look at Robbie, then went to sit across from my mom. We'd known Ceri was having a girl since last week, and my mom was as delighted as if it were one of her own. "No," I said as I fiddled with my mug. "I want to give them to some of the kids in the children's wing of the hospital. I met the brat pack yesterday. The ones who spend more time there than at home? It just seems right. You don't think Dad would mind, do you?"

My mother's smile turned beautiful. "I think he'd say that was the right thing to do."

I stood, restless and invigorated. Finally I was doing something. "Mind if I get them now?"

"Go right ahead. And if you find anything else up there you want, bring it on down."

Bingo! With her carte blanche to rummage, I was in the hall before she could call after me, "I'm putting the house on the market, and a clean attic sells better than a full one."

Huh?

The string to pull down the attic stairs slipped through my fist, and the ceiling door slammed shut. Not believing I'd heard her right, I went back to the kitchen. Robbie was smirking, his ankles crossed as he leaned against the sink with a cup of coffee. Suddenly I saw my mom's stilted conversation tonight in an entirely new way. I wasn't the only one hiding bad news. Shit.

"You're selling the house?" I stammered, seeing the truth in her downcast gaze. "Why?"

Taking a resolute breath, she looked up. "I'm moving out to the West Coast for a while. It's not a big deal," she said as I started to protest. "It's time for a change, is all."

Eyes squinting, I turned to Robbie. God! He looked too satisfied to live, leaning against the counter like that. "You…selfish brat," I said, furious. He'd been trying to get her to move out there for years, and now he'd finally gotten his way.

My mom shifted uncomfortably, and I reined in my anger, shoving it down to bring out when he and I were alone. This was where we'd grown up. This was where my memories with Dad were, the tree I had planted with his ashes. And now a stranger was going to have it? "Excuse me," I said stiffly. "I'll get my things out of the attic."

Ticked, I strode into the hall. "I'll talk to her," I heard Robbie say, and I made a sarcastic puff. I was going to do the talking, and he was going to listen.

This time I jerked the stairs all the way down and flipped on the light. A memory of Pierce came from out of nowhere. He had opened the attic for me when I'd been looking for my dad's ley line stuff to help him save a girl and his soul both. At least he had saved the girl.

Cold spilled down, and as Robbie came into the hallway, I stomped up the ladder and out of his reach. Chill silence enveloped me, doing nothing to cool my temper. The space was lit by a single bulb, making shadows on the stacked boxes and dark corners with angled support beams. My brow furrowed as I decided someone had been up here recently. There were fewer boxes than I remembered. Dad's stuff was missing, and I wondered if Robbie had thrown it all away in his efforts to keep me from using it.

"Selfish brat," I muttered, then reached for the topmost box of my stuffed animals. I'd gathered the toys one by one during my stints in the hospital or home sick in bed. Many bore the names and pretend personalities of my friends who hadn't made it out one last time to feel the wind push on their face. I hadn't taken them when I'd moved out, which was just as well. They wouldn't have survived the great salt dip of '06.

My pulse was fast as I took the box to the hole in the floor. "Catch," I said, dropping it when Robbie looked up.