Nine
Tatyana
There was something odd about the Hellers’ house. I could tell from the moment we got out of Dylan’s silver Prius, for which we never ceased to torment him.
The house itself was nice and in the local suburban style, with two levels, a few palm trees framing the stony pathway, and flowers bursting through the front yard. Nothing out of the ordinary. But there was a vibe that just didn’t sit well with me, as if the air was thick and eager to suffocate me.
Astrid and Dylan didn’t seem affected. I brushed the feeling away for the time being, blaming the uneasiness on my previous encounter with the ghost of little Will—whose death was beginning to nag me. On the way here, I’d used my smartphone to briefly check for any news about a kid’s murder at Mina’s house, but I’d found nothing. Astrid had also put a search through Smartie, but no results had come up yet.
“Maria and Damian Heller,” Dylan said, reading out loud from the file. “They’re fostering Kenneth Willow, aged seventeen. His parents died in a car crash when he was twelve, and he had no immediate family, so he wound up in the system.”
“If I’m not mistaken, there were reports of objects flying around in his presence, right?” I asked, while Astrid continued to work on her Smartie tablet. She was trying different keywords through the local database, while waiting for Alton to send her the clearance codes for the national database.
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. Plus some violent incidents at school, but most were attributed to a couple of kids with mental problems.”
I knocked once and waited patiently with Dylan and Astrid by my side.
“Do you think they’re home?” Astrid asked, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Their car is here,” I said, pointing at the Chrysler in the small driveway. I knocked a second time, this time loudly enough to startle some birds in a nearby bush. “They’re home.”
It took a third knock to hear footsteps in the hallway.
The door opened, and we were greeted by Maria Heller. She was a Latina woman, a buxom beauty wearing a white shirt and casual jeans, with her long black hair caught in a tight bun. Her wide brown eyes fixed on me for a moment, but her expression was firm and… blank.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone clipped.
“Hi, Mrs. Heller?” I replied. She nodded and crossed her arms. I noticed her hands shaking. A little red light went on in my head. “I’m Tatyana Jones, and these are my colleagues, Dylan and Astrid,” I said, following the fake last name protocol as I flashed my ID card. “We’re from Social Services. We’re doing our monthly visit, and we thought we’d stop by to see how you were doing.”
She frowned. That was never a good sign. “We had Social Services come in on Wednesday. You guys getting confused now, or what?”
“This is a follow-up visit,” I replied calmly, watching her expression. “Mind if we come in?”
Maria thought about it for a second, then sighed and motioned for us to follow her inside.
“Kenneth! Social Services is here!” she called out as she advanced through the hallway. She stopped and looked to her left. Her nostrils flared before she put on a faint smile. “There you are, sweeties.”
She went into the living room. As soon as we joined her, I got that nagging feeling in my chest again—this time threatening to gnaw at my stomach. The living room area was decorated in a hacienda style. I recognized the arches and walnut furniture. I’d seen a similar arrangement back in my parents’ summer house, on the outskirts of Mexico City.
In the middle, stiffly seated in a leather armchair, was Damian Heller, wearing a white polo shirt and what I lovingly referred to as “dad jeans.” On the sofa, casually leaning on its left arm, was Kenneth Willow. Kenneth caught my eye—his outfit was crisp and neat, with starched cream pants, a white shirt, and beige vest, complete with a dark red bowtie. His reddish hair was combed back and loaded with styling gel, and his bright green eyes darted from me to Dylan and Astrid, then back to me.
He put on a broad smile as Maria stood with her arms crossed.
“Hi, I’m Kenneth!” the seventeen-year-old magical said.
I knew he was a magical for sure because of the small gem mounted on his bowtie. It was bright red, but it had a strange white glimmer. I’d learned to spot an Esprit before anyone else. This wasn’t an inexperienced warlock. This one had found his Esprit.
“I’m Tatyana, and these are Dylan and Astrid. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I replied, mirroring his friendly expression.
“What brings you here?” he asked. He looked at his mother and nodded at the spare seat next to him. Maria sat down next to him, keeping her slightly shaking hands in her lap and her eyes fixed on a random spot on the coffee table in front of them. “Social Services was already here. We’re doing fine.”
“I know, Kenneth. We’re just here to follow up, that’s all. We take great care to make sure that the children we place in foster homes are well looked after,” I said. “Mind if I ask who visited you from Social Services on Wednesday?”
Damian was quiet as a tomb, beads of sweat trickling down his temples. He stared at me with what looked like crippling fear, despite his faint smile. Something was definitely wrong with this picture, and I didn’t want to start trouble without knowing what was wrong.
Kenneth seemed strangely relaxed and cold compared to his foster parents.
“They asked the usual questions. You know, am I being treated well? Am I happy? How is my school life? What’s it like at home? How many meals a day? Yadda, yadda, yadda.” He chuckled. “Everything is okay here. My new mom and dad take great care of me and I, in return, look after them.”
I caught a glimpse of Maria as she gave Kenneth a sideways glance. All of a sudden, I regretted not bringing Harley with us. She could always read a room better than anyone. The perks of being an Empath.
“Mind if my colleagues sit down?” I asked, pointing at the spare two-seater on the other side of the coffee table.
“Oh, by all means, please do,” Kenneth replied, wearing that annoying plastic smile.
I’d met enough people in my life to know when someone was trying to lead me on. Kenneth was still younger than me. He’d yet to fully master the art of deception, but he was definitely well versed in it.
Dylan and Astrid occupied the two-seater, while I remained standing. I moved farther to my left, where the fireplace was. The mantelpiece was loaded with family photos and various trinkets collected mostly from Mexico—I recognized the colorful patterns and designs. The Hellers were eager Mexico vacationers, from what I could tell. They’d taken Kenneth with them, too, judging by the photos, but their postures and smiles were strained in those particular snapshots.
“Can you tell me the names of the Social Services employees who visited you?” I asked, my eyes fixed on a small marble bowl. There was a card there. The symbol was all too familiar. I picked it up between two fingers, then handed it to Dylan.
“Jane and John. But I forget their last names,” Kenneth said. “Nice people, though. Really nice. They gave me a voucher for Wendy’s.”
I nodded slowly, watching Dylan’s expression change as he reached the same conclusion—the Ryders had been here. He showed the Hellers the card. “Cheapskates. Have you spoken to these people?”
Damian frowned and shook his head.
“No,” Maria replied.
“But they were here,” I said.
Maria shrugged. “No, they weren’t. I don’t know where that came from. It doesn’t look familiar to me.”
“Kenneth, have you spoken to anyone named Emily and Emmett Ryder, by any chance? Did they give you this card?” I asked, shifting my focus back to the young magical.
His eyebrows arched upward. “No. That’s strange. I wonder who left that there…”
Maria shot to her feet, suddenly switching into a friendly-housewife-mode. “Would anyone like some horchata? I’ve just made a fresh, whole pitcher.”
“I’d love some, thank you,” I said, smiling.
She nearly flew out of the living room, while I kept my eyes on Kenneth and Damian. Damian couldn’t even look at his foster son. I would’ve given anything to have Harley with us, at that point.
“So, Kenneth, what school are you enrolled in?” I asked.
“Gompers Prep,” he replied. “I love it there. Everyone is nice. I’m on the debate team and on the baseball team! There’s also a girl I like. I’m happy here.”
Ugh, I wasn’t buying it. It was as if he was trying a little too hard to convince me that everything was okay. My stomach was churning, and Dylan didn’t seem convinced, either.
“Have you thought about college yet?” Dylan asked him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, and sorry to ask,” I interjected, “but is it okay if I use your bathroom?” I giggled, employing the bubblegum-blonde demeanor. That was always a good distraction. “I’ve had too much coffee.”
Kenneth chuckled, then pointed at the hallway. “Sure! It’s right next to the kitchen.”
“Thank you!” I replied, then left the living room behind me and headed straight for the kitchen. I heard muffled voices behind me—Kenneth speaking to Dylan, and Astrid asking something, followed by Kenneth’s answer.
I slipped through the kitchen door and found Maria there, struggling with an horchata pitcher. She was shaking like a leaf.
“Hi,” I whispered. Even so, she was startled and nearly dropped the whole thing. I rushed over to her side and gently removed the pitcher from her trembling hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just—”
“You have to help us!” Maria breathed, her face pale and eyes filled with horror. “Kenneth… There’s something horribly wrong with him.”
“Whoa,” I managed, then put the pitcher down altogether. “What’s wrong?”