Home > Harley Merlin and the Stolen Magicals (Harley Merlin #3)(15)

Harley Merlin and the Stolen Magicals (Harley Merlin #3)(15)
Author: Bella Forrest

“Actually, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” she went on shyly.

“Oh?”

“Well… we’ve been thinking about fostering another child. We have all this space, and it seems a shame not to use it,” she explained. “It’s all thanks to you, really. You’ve inspired us to try and help someone else, the way we helped you. I know there are so many children out there, stuck in the system, and we both feel that it’s time we gave something back again.”

My face lit up, my heart overflowing with admiration and affection. It may well have been Mrs. Smith’s emotions, mingling with my own, but I couldn’t have been prouder. Even with their memories wiped, and no recollection of Jacob Morales, they still wanted to make a difference in the lives of San Diego’s forgotten kids. There was a bitter irony, too, considering how things had gone last time. Not their fault, of course, but Katherine had used their kindness to get to me and Jacob.

“What do you think, kiddo?” Mr. Smith chimed in.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, without missing a beat. “Any kid who ends up here is going to be one of the luckiest kids in the world.”

The Smiths smiled at each other, love flowing effortlessly between them. Even after all these years, they still adored one another. One day, I’ll be one half of an awesomely sickening pair like this, still smooching after decades of marriage—still pinching each other’s butts when they think no one’s looking.

“We’re so glad you approve,” Mrs. Smith gushed.

“Actually, speaking of lucky kids, would you mind if I headed up to my old room and had a look around? I’ve been looking for this journal I had from senior year, but I can’t find it anywhere. It has the only good picture of me that’s ever been taken.” I hated lying to them, but there was no other way.

Mrs. Smith tutted. “Nonsense, Harley, we’ve got lots of beautiful pictures of you.”

“Then beauty is in the eye of the very blind beholder.”

“Cheeky!” A contented smile settled across her lips. “Everything’s as you left it. Dinner in ten?”

I nodded. “No problem. I’ll be quick.”

Leaving them to their happy domesticity, I headed down the hall, only to freeze halfway. Seeing the front door from this angle brought back a wave of hideous flashbacks. The Ryder twins taunting me as Wade and I hid from sight, trying to figure out a plan of action that wouldn’t get my foster parents horribly murdered. Mrs. Smith screaming as the cuts appeared on her legs, making their way up her body, the blood soaking through her pants. Mr. Smith sobbing at the sight of his beloved wife, and not being able to do anything to help her.

Shrugging off the awful memories, I forced myself to continue down the hall and up the stairs, to my old room. As I stood in the doorway, nostalgia washed over me. I glanced at the magnolia walls and remembered putting up each and every one of the artsy black-and-white photos of James Dean and Springsteen in their glory days, and a bevy of leather-clad rock musicians, while the sweet smell of vanilla drifted toward me from the reed-diffuser on the windowsill. Mrs. Smith must have put it there, replacing the headier scents that I liked. I’d only stayed here for two years, but they’d been the happiest two years of my life. Prep school notwithstanding—they could go screw themselves.

My powers had made themselves known throughout my childhood, but back then I hadn’t known what they’d meant or where they’d lead. So much had changed in such a short span of time. I was better off now, knowing what I was and what I could do, but that didn’t detract from the fondness I felt for this place. The Smiths had been kind to me, and I would never forget that.

For the next ten minutes, I scoured the room, sifting through every closet and drawer for something that might have belonged to Jacob. The cleanup crew had done a suitably spectacular job of covering all magical trails, which meant finding a potential object was going to be harder than finding a very specific needle in a stack of needles.

I crawled over to the bed and looked underneath. Nothing but solitary boots and loafers that I’d left behind, a couple of shoeboxes, and a flurry of dust bunnies. Undeterred, I wriggled under the slats and hauled myself to the far side of the bed, with the windowsill just visible above me. My hands grasped in the darkness, searching for anything unusual. Delving into a pile of fluff and torn-up paper, my fingertips settled on a curious shape tucked between the wall and the edge of the carpet.

I’m going to need a gallon of Purell after this.

Digging the object out of its disgusting crevice, I struggled back out into the main body of the room and opened my palm to see what treasure I’d collected. A Native American beaded bracelet sat in the center of my hand. I’d never owned anything like it, and nobody else had used this room before me—it had been a study until they’d taken me in. The bracelet had to be Jacob’s. Evidently, the cleanup crew had missed it, considering where it had fallen.

I wonder where you got it from, Jake? I didn’t know anything about Jacob’s real parents, and he didn’t seem to know anything either. “Morales” was the name the foster home had given him. His true surname was lost, known only by the people who had abandoned him as a kid.

It reminded me of my own family. There were so many questions I still wanted to ask, and so many answers I didn’t have. Isadora was the key to my past, and perhaps the key to my future, too—she knew everything I needed to know, about my mother and father, the Merlin family as a whole, and, most importantly, about Katherine Shipton and her involvement in the murders that had left me an orphan.

Let’s hope this bracelet leads me to both of you, before dear Aunt Katie has the chance to strike again.

“Harley! Dinner’s ready!”

I pocketed the bracelet and headed out of the room, pausing to take one last look at the only place that had seemed like a sanctuary to me. Before the coven, anyway. It no longer held the same power that it once had. I was older now… wiser, perhaps. I might’ve spent some happy times in this room, but I would never be a Smith. The history of the Merlins and the Shiptons beckoned, the two melting pots from which I’d been made.

Right now, I was in a race against time to put the puzzle pieces together and stop Katherine from slotting the children into her grand plan.

Eight

Harley

The storm blew in with a vengeance, gale-force winds raging across the city. As a torrent of rain lashed down from all angles, soaking through my clothes in a matter of seconds while I waited for Dicky to pick me up, I got the call from the Rag Team that the evening patrol was off. Nobody would be stupid enough to wander around in this kind of weather, not even Katherine’s minions. They’d be holed up somewhere instead.

I was kind of glad, now that I had the bracelet Jacob had accidentally left behind. If we could get a tracer spell going, at least we could find Jacob and Isadora and tick one thing off our seemingly endless list of things to do.

Dicky drove me back to the Fleet Science Center, though nobody else was around at this time of night. A few security guards manned the foyer. I wasn’t too worried; they were undercover magicals, on the coven’s private roster. They nodded to me as I headed through the back way, into the coven itself. Kid City was seriously eerie at night. The playgrounds and jungle gyms just felt weird without the actual kids playing on them.

Once inside, I made a beeline for the banquet hall, hoping I’d find a couple members of the Rag Team there. We’d made a tentative plan to meet in Astrid’s room at nine o’clock, but nobody had replied to the group chat yet, and I wasn’t in a waiting mood. We’d blown off the evening meeting with Stella and Channing, too, since none of us had anything to report and the storm had cancelled any investigative plans. The bracelet was burning a hole in my pocket.

I paused on the threshold, my gaze settling on two figures at the farthest side of the right-hand table. Wade and Stella looked like they were in the middle of some deep conversation, Stella toying with a strand of her dark hair. Very cozy. They sipped coffee, a ripple of laughter slipping from Stella’s lips every couple of minutes. Oh, come on, he’s not that funny. He’s got the stand-up routine of a kindergartener. Another laugh erupted, echoing down the hall toward me. Seriously, you’re embarrassing yourself.

A sudden stab of jealousy pierced my chest, taking me by surprise. Well… that’s new.

Shrugging it off, and outright refusing to be the kind of girl who fawns over some dude because he’s chatting with another girl, I readjusted myself and strode down the aisle toward them. They fell silent as soon as I approached, which left me a little suspicious about what they’d been talking about.

“Hey, can I have a word?” I asked bluntly, staring Wade straight in the eyes.

He shrugged. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you in private.” I flashed a faintly apologetic look at Stella, who seemed taken aback by my abrupt interruption.

To be honest, I was a little embarrassed by my behavior, cutting in on their conversation like that. But this was important information that couldn’t wait until he was done flirting.

“Yeah, okay… Do you mean now?” Wade asked.

“No, I mean in about a year or two. Maybe three, if you’re more comfortable with that—of course I mean now,” I replied, giving Stella a “can you believe this guy” kind of look.

He pushed his coffee cup away and got up. “Thanks for the talk, Stella. It’s always nice to get to know LA Coven people a bit better. I guess the cover doesn’t always do the book justice.”

She smiled at him, revealing perfect teeth. “Anytime. I know Channing isn’t all that eager to make friends, but I’m a bit more chilled out than he is.”

Yeah, I bet you are. I quickly shoved away the fresh stab of jealousy that weaseled its way into my mind, to stop it from twisting any more of my generally sane thoughts into stupid ones. Green really wasn’t my color. And besides, Stella was only trying to be nice. It wasn’t easy to be the fresh meat in a new place, no matter how tough you were. I knew that better than anyone.

   
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