“Barely, but…”
Isadora’s voice faded away.
“No. No! No!” I croaked, gripping the dreamcatcher’s edges even tighter. My palms were sweating and my heart was thumping, struggling against my ribcage. “No. Please, don’t stop! I need to know!”
I couldn’t control the flow of my dream, though. It had already gone, dissipated into darkness prior to me waking up. That was definitely a memory I’d just seen. Not a nightmare or a Salvador Dali-type dream. It was an HD memory, better than the one I’d fished out before, from the murky depths of my subconscious.
It left me with a ton of questions. My watch beeped twice.
“Time to go. Dammit,” I muttered, then put the dreamcatcher under the bed, grabbed my phone and keys, and walked out to meet the rest of my team.
I looked forward to the evening already, knowing I’d have a chance to sit down and read through my parents’ file. Maybe there was something there that would answer the new questions I had. What did my father think that he could “handle”? What was it that he would’ve gone back in time to change, if given the opportunity?
Was it what he’d done to my mother? His affair with Katherine Shipton?
I wiped my tears and glided down the stairs, focusing on the present. The past wasn’t going anywhere. The answers were there, waiting for me to find them. In the meantime, however, there were magicals who needed my help and the coven’s protection.
My parents were gone. But Katherine Shipton was still around and eager to wreak more havoc.
Five
Harley
Wade drove us in his black Jeep.
I missed my Daisy, but after the gargoyle incidents, my beloved Mustang had been reduced to a pile of junk metal. I owed Murray the gargoyle for that, and I planned to repay him in kind. He was back in the Bestiary, super secured in his charmed glass box, but that didn’t stop me from plotting my revenge. To be honest, the one responsible was Finch, who’d let Murray out in the first place, and he was pretty much taken care of already. But there was a hole left in my heart, and I figured that pranking the hell out of the monster that had destroyed my car might help fill it, even if just temporarily.
We were headed toward Sunset Cliffs, one of the finer areas of San Diego, composed mostly of one- or two-story houses and direct access to the ocean. It was beautiful and sunny in these parts, with short palm trees sprawling out of front yards and music blasting from some of the backyards—it was a Saturday, and the weather was perfect for a barbecue. I could even smell the charcoal burning through the open windows.
“We’re about ten minutes away,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“What do we know about these people?” Santana asked from the backseat.
I’d been sly enough to call shotgun as soon as we’d gotten to the Jeep. For that, I’d also been trusted with a copy of the file. I flipped through its pages and read some of the information out loud, for both Raffe and Santana to hear. Knowing Wade, he’d already memorized it all, word for word, since he was the poster child of the overachiever.
“Micah Cranston, aged five,” I said. “Has been in the foster system since he was two. Bounced around for a while, until he turned three and was adopted by Susan and Larry Cranston. He’s been with them since. Mom’s a teacher. Dad’s a construction foreman. It says here they both have fertility issues, which is why they chose to adopt. They’ve each got a 401(k), and they’re already saving up for his college fund. They sound like good people.”
I was already getting sucked into my humane side, the one that didn’t want to separate a child from his parents. Even though I was aware of the threat surrounding his life here, I couldn’t bring myself to even think of taking Micah away. There had to be another way.
Of course, I was annoyed with myself. I’d thought I’d already made a concession over this, but my heart, the fickle and treacherous little organ that it was, had decided to sabotage my reasoning.
“What incidents led the coven to believe he’s a magical?” Raffe asked.
“Oh. Um, wow,” I said, raising both eyebrows as I scanned a witness account. “Objects levitating and swirling around him. This happened more than once. His parents moved him to a new kindergarten after three repeat incidents.”
“That’s all?” Wade replied.
“What? That’s not enough? Do you want him to pull the San Andreas Fault and reorganize California’s landscape before he’s deemed a magical?” I chuckled.
“No, Miss Snappy, I just thought he might have been manifesting other abilities, too,” Wade said.
I turned the page on Micah’s file. “Nope. That’s all we have. A Reading would give us more.”
“Do we know anything about his biological parents?” Wade replied.
I shook my head. “Left at an orphanage by a stranger. No birth certificate, nothing.”
“Okay, that’s a little odd,” Santana chimed in. “Has anyone checked the hospital records for any missing babies? I assumed they have an estimated birthday for the boy.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Santana. “No one checked anything. He just popped up on the grid when he was one year old.”
“Someone must’ve taken care of him until then,” Wade mused, scratching his chin. The sunlight made his sterling silver rings twinkle for a moment. It reminded me of something, but I wasn’t sure what, exactly. It was just one of the many eerie and impossible to describe flashbacks I’d been having lately while fully conscious. “We should definitely look into this,” he added.
“Let me guess, I get the research gig?” I scoffed, turning another page on Micah’s file.
Wade smirked. “You’re the rookie, so of course.”
“Hey, remember what Alton said!” Santana jokingly warned him, though I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
“Zip it, Santana,” Wade groaned, rolling his eyes.
“What?” I asked, slightly amused.
“Santana, I’m serious. Shush,” Wade insisted, ignoring my question.
I looked at her again and found her grinning. She waited for a few seconds, occasionally checking Wade’s expression in the rearview mirror, then dragged the cat out of the bag. “Alton told Wade to be super extra nice to you so you’re more inclined to stay with the coven. I was just reminding him that giving you the grunt work doesn’t exactly qualify as ‘being nice.’”
Wade let out a long, frustrated sigh, briefly scowling at Santana through the rearview mirror.
“She needs to go through all the hoops we went through, Santana. That includes some paperwork,” he replied firmly. “Just because Alton really wants her to stay doesn’t mean she shouldn’t learn some things the hard way like the rest of us.”
My heart swelled a little. “Aww. Alton wants me to stay.”
“Duh! We all do!” Santana retorted. “Even Mr. I’m-Too-Cool-To-Express-My-Feelings over here,” she added, nodding at Wade.
That I could sort of agree with. Something had changed between Wade and me since Finch had been apprehended. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but our dynamic felt somewhat different—in a good, yet troubling, way. At times, there was an intensity between us that was hard to figure out. It made my heart flutter in ways I’d never experienced before. Most of the time, however, we just seemed to really get along, between layers of sharp jokes and sarcastic remarks.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I murmured, then pressed my lips into a thin line to stop a smile from splitting my face.
All of a sudden, I felt nervous. That wasn’t me. That was Wade’s heart pounding and echoing into mine. He cleared his throat, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel and pulled over.
“We’re here,” he announced.
As soon as we got out of his Jeep and saw the lovely house and lush front yard, with two SUVs parked outside, I knew that little Micah had hit quite the jackpot with the Cranstons. He was looking at a prosperous and healthy childhood. His bike was on its side, covered in stickers and settled between two hydrangea bushes.
Better than some southside orphanage, if you ask me.
“I’ll take the lead,” Wade added. “You watch, you listen, and you learn. Got it?”
I sighed deeply. “Mm-hm.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
“Oh, go already!” Santana grumbled, motioning for him to go ahead.
My throat was already dry, and I was pretty sure I was sweating, but I could easily blame it on the weather. It was nice and hot, definitely not pantsuit temperature. Judging by the looks on Santana’s and Raffe’s faces, they weren’t too comfortable. The jackets were going to come off soon.
I handed the file over to Wade. “There you go. Take the lead,” I said.
He didn’t hesitate as he went up the pathway and knocked on the door. We gathered behind him, wearing our friendliest faces. We had to give the Cranstons the right impression. Their minds were easier to manipulate with false memories if they weren’t under distress—or so I’d learned from Preceptor Sloane Bellmore, who taught Charms and Hexes.
As soon as the door opened, we were greeted by Susan, Micah’s adoptive mother. She seemed kind and soft by nature, from what I could pick up as an Empath. It certainly matched her petite figure, auburn hair, and mom jeans.
“Can I help you?” she asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hi, Mrs. Cranston. I’m Wade Munson. These are my colleagues, Santana Gomez, Raphael Smith, and Harley… Smith,” he replied, giving some fake last names and flashing his equally fake ID. “No relation,” he added. “We’re from Social Services.”
In an instant, I was gripped by concern, mirrored by Susan’s furrowed brows. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no, not at all!” Wade replied, in a bid to reassure her. He sucked at this, though. The dude couldn’t bring himself to smile if his life depended on it. “We’re just here on a random visit, to check on Micah, make sure you have everything you need. You know, the usual.”