Page 30 of Throwing Shade
8
Ava handedme an open can of Coke and made me comfortable in her desk chair in the back office. “Drink this. The sugar will help.”
I leaned back, staring at the calendar above her desk with its painted vintage scene of a pin-up girl bowling, and took a sip. The soda was so cold, it burned my throat going down.
Ava pushed aside a bunch of papers to sit on her desk. “You want to talk about it?”
I traced my finger through the condensation on the can’s seam. “I haven’t in years. Not since it first happened.”
Even Eli didn’t know. I’d told him my parents had died in a house fire and that’s why Goldie Feldman, my mom’s cousin, had raised me. Goldie was unaware of the real facts, as well. She wasn’t magic so how could I tell her? And besides, she’d easily accepted the story that my dad’s best friend spun about the fire. He was the only one who knew the truth.
Hell, after all these years of repeating it, I’d almost convinced myself of the lie.
Almost.
“It might help,” Ava said gently.
I snorted. Sure, what was one more promise to myself broken? I’d set my shadow free again. It was only a matter of time before I broke this resolution to not talk about my parents’ deaths either.
“I don’t even know that much about it, but I suspect it involved a business deal gone wrong.” I laughed bitterly. “I was woefully ignorant of what business my parents were in, but let’s just say that my mom didn’t tell me bedtime stories of thieves and spies who had our magic for no reason.”
“Probably not.”
I’d been hiding since I was fifteen, keeping this secret and my magic locked down tight. I took another sip. Well, I’d blown that up spectacularly today, but as scared as I was, I couldn’t regret saving a life.
Had enough time passed that I was truly safe? Their killers had never come after me, but Ava had seen my magic. She didn’t seem like the type to sell me out, but more importantly, I needed someone else to share the truth with, if only so I wouldn’t be the only one who guarded it anymore.
I had another drink, then cast my mind back to that fateful day.
Dad jerked awkwardly after the dish glove hit him, his neck jolting to one side. At first I thought he was kidding, pretending that Mom had wounded him, but he crumpled to the ground, all the vitality sucked from his expression, his eyes wide and lifeless.
I clamped my lips together, staring through the archway to the living room at his body as Sinatra sang about worship and adoration to a bouncy swing tempo.
Mom yanked me out of the kitchen chair and shoved me toward the back hallway. “Hide,” she whispered.
I cloaked myself, expecting her to do the same, but she didn’t. She called her shadow up around her like knives of darkness, sweeping towards the assassin who charged into the kitchen. It was lethal and elegant and reckless.
“She gave you the chance to escape,” Ava said, when I paused the story.
“Yeah. For years I felt so guilty about it, but then I had my daughter and…” I shrugged, calming my bouncing leg. “I’d have done exactly the same.”
I’d frozen in the backyard, crying, and watching the fight play out through the kitchen window. Mom had the upper hand, but when the assassin got the jump on her and snapped her neck with their magic, I ran without a second look back.
“What happened when you left?” Ava said.
“We had a creek out back and I’d seen some movie where they crossed water to throw off any tracking, so I did that.” I took a long drink of the soda and the sugary bite made my teeth hurt. Still, it bought me time, and the pain grounded me in the present moment, not in the inertia of that memory, with the adrenaline and the endless loop of questions I’d had.
Cold, wet, scared, running on fumes and fear—the enormity of it defied retelling. “It was a long night,” I finally said.
“I bet. Did you ever find out who did it?”
“No. Who would I have asked to investigate?”
“Weren’t there Lonestars where you lived? This was still a double murder. The regular cops would be called in and—”
“The Lonestars burned down the house with my parents’ bodies in it that same night. They destroyed the crime scene. Faulty wiring, tragic accident strikes family, I’m sure you know their process. Magic must remain hidden after all,” I intoned, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“That is so shitty. I’m really sorry.” She rubbed her thumb across her other palm. “I really do try not to use my magic and influence other people’s emotions, but if you want me to temporarily make you feel better?”
