TWENTY
CLAIRE
Claire sat on the porch swing that Sophia and Tara had occupied earlier that evening. The rest of them had gone to bed, but Claire had always been in love with the night, her favorite time—when the rest of the house was quiet. A time when she could hear herself think—listen to the voice inside her. Listen to what wanted her attention.
She watched the full moon through the trees. This time of year, the moon had moved close to the earth, and she could feel her energy run through her body, healing—and restorative. The full moon reminded Claire to take some time for herself—to take stock of her life—and where she wanted to go. She loved this time for reflection. She loved that she could track her growth this way.
But as much as she tried to concentrate on her usual meditations, she kept getting derailed by a particular male, always sneaking into the manor. Right now—Claire wanted answers more.
Lots, and lots of answers.
Yes, she wanted to know more about the gargoyle shape-shifter. Yet, she needed answers about more than just him, right now. She turned her gaze toward the woods. Things felt different. If gargoyles existed—what else did. Funny, though, she’d always believed in magick. Still, it was one thing to think a thing—quite another to see it right before your eyes.
Her world opened—and happiness bubbled within her. She felt happy. She did. For her, that said life held more than the mundane. She also wasn’t stupid. She could see a time when she might not be so pleased—if they were in constant danger because of it.
Claire kept looking around for the gargoyle shape-shifter. She couldn’t help it. She wished he’d show himself to her—the same way he kept revealing himself to Morgan. She wanted to ask him questions—she had so much she wanted to know.
The door opened, and she glanced back at the house in time to see Tara come out, closing it behind her.
“I thought I would find you out here,” Tara said.
Claire patted the seat beside her, and Tara smiled as she sat down. She wondered at the mysterious glint she saw in her light-blue eyes as she stared up at the bright, full moon.
“It almost seems like we could reach up and touch it tonight,” Tara observed.
Claire tipped her head to stare up at the moon with her. “I was thinking the same thing,” she said.
Tara twisted around to eye Claire. Once more, Claire had a feeling Tara had something on her mind. She had a notion she was about to find out.
She didn’t have to wait.
“Claire, what did you figure out earlier?”
Claire grinned at her. “Bugging you, hug?”
Tara smiled at her. “Well—yes.” She shrugged and wrinkled her nose at her friend, laughing now.
Claire shrugged. “Do you mind if I don’t share that yet?” she asked. “I want to do a little more thinking before I reveal what you may have accidently uncovered,” Claire said.
Tara seemed disappointed. Claire bit her lip. “Actually,” she said, “maybe—it would be better to talk about it.”
Tara glanced her, her gaze sharp with anticipation. Claire motioned her closer so that she could speak in low tones. After all, they had a Gargoyle shape-shifter lurking around that they could barely see whenever he was in motion.
Claire thought a long moment before she finally whispered. “Do you think there might be someone in the coven who has a vested interest in keeping certain other members of the coven from training their children?”
Tara’s eyes went wide as her mouth took on more of a rounded shape. “You mean?”
“Yes,” Claire said.
“And then, they could….” Tara said in shock.
“Yes,” Claire said again.
Tara looked stunned. She leaned back to stare out into the dark, as the full implications of this hit her. She turned, eyeing Claire. “Maybe we had better have a talk with my Grams,” she said.
Claire thought about that. After a moment, she nodded. Perhaps. That just might be a splendid idea.
“Claire,” Tara said, after a long moment. “Did you ever wonder what happened to Sophia that day?”
Claire glanced over at her in surprise. Whatever she’d thought Tara intended to say—that hadn’t been it. “What do you mean?”
Tara shrugged, gazing up at the moon. “Well—she didn’t run with us that day.”
Claire leaned forward to look at her. “What?”
Tara twisted around to meet Claire’s gaze. “She didn’t run with us,” she repeated.
Claire opened her mouth. Unable to think of a single thing to say, she closed it again. She couldn’t believe this. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. Had she been so caught up in her sister’s disappearance, she hadn’t recognized when a friend had been in trouble?
Tara apparently read her thoughts correctly because she said, “No, Claire. Don’t you do that to yourself.” She turned on the swing, so she was facing Claire more fully. “Besides, I don’t think she’s in any danger. In fact, I believe she chose to stay.”
Claire shook her head, unable to comprehend what she just heard. “But—why?”
Tara’s lips compressed for a long moment. Finally, she said, “I think there might be something Sophia hasn’t shared with us.”
Claire tried to absorb this. “Like what?” she asked, unable to follow where Tara headed with this.
Tara threw up her hands at that. “Well, that’s just it. I can’t figure out what it could be. I—well I’ve gotten good at picking up on when something doesn’t feel right. Like when something is being left out—or when something isn’t quite the truth.”
Claire grinned. “You were always good at that. You’re like a human lie detector.”
Tara smiled. “Well, it’s more than that, now.” She smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle on her jeans. “Now, I can see colors around people,” she said, still glancing down as though examining her manicure in the moonlight.
Claire tucked her head back, realizing. “You can look at me, Tara.”
Tara eyeballed her, searching her gaze. “You don’t feel like I’m intruding on your mind?”
Claire sighed. “Well—yes,” she teased.
Tara flushed, and she glanced back down.
“Hey,” Claire said gently. “You’ve always had the gift of sight. “Haven’t you always been able to see pretty clearly into people?”
Tara nodded, looking up. “I’m only getting better at it. It makes people resent me.”
Claire frowned. “Well—so you learn who you can open up to about what you’re seeing—and who you can’t.”
Tara laughed—but to Claire, her laugh sounded hollow.
“Men don’t like it when you can read them,” Tara said with a groan.
Now, Claire did giggle. “I’ll bet they don’t. Men have very fragile egos.”
Tara smiled, but to Claire, her smile seemed sad.
The last two guys I dated spent a lot of time trying to convince me I was way off base about them.” She put her arm on the back of the swing, propping her head on her hand.
“With the last one, at first I started thinking something was wrong with my sight,” she said sadly. “And I began to doubt myself. Then, I noticed he was picking on my opinions too—telling me how stupid I was with the things I thought too.” She glanced down, running her slender fingers on the chipped paint of the swing. “My sight seemed to trigger an avalanche of complaints,” she eyed Claire, “and then he wanted to prove me wrong with just about everything I thought—not just my insights.” She stared at Claire. “By the time, he got done with me—let’s just say I learned to keep my mouth shut.”
Claire shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Tara. I had no clue you went through all that.” She reached out and took her friend’s hand. “You know you can’t listen to him, though, right. He sounds insecure. You can’t buy into the crap he wanted you to believe about yourself.”
Tara nodded. “Yeah. It’s just that when someone’s always digging at you, after a
while, it seeps in—no matter how hard you try to stop it. After a while, he picked up on my insecurities, making his jabs at those too....”
Claire nodded. “He looked for the chinks in your armor—and when he found them, he exploited them, working at any little weakness. Soon, he had you doubting yourself, as he picked at their vulnerabilities until he’d made them into something much larger.” She pulled Tara in for a hug. “You were probably wondering how stuff you never knew suddenly became such a problem—like he had secret sight into your faults.”
Tara’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “You’re not kidding. I kept looking back before I met him—wondering how I missed all the things that were wrong with me.”
Claire clenched her jaw till she had to let up. How dare these guys hurt her sister-friend like this. “Don’t you see, Tara?” she said. “Anytime you keep hanging around someone like that, sooner or later he’ll plant his poisonous darts until he gets you to doubt everything about yourself—and even make the small things bloom into something much larger. Before long, he’ll have you believing all sorts of things about yourself. And once that happens, he’ll manipulate you into doing whatever he wants—and you’ll take it as gospel because you no longer trust your voice.”
She saw Tara swallow.
“Wow,” Tara said. “I knew what he was doing, but I guess I didn’t see how dangerous it was.” She smiled sadly. “I suppose I thought that since I was aware of what he was doing, he couldn’t harm me too much.”
Claire nodded. “Some people are excellent at that.”
Tara leaned back and tipped her face to the full moon. “Well, it would seem that all sorts of good things are happening by coming back here.”
Claire grinned, “You’re darn straight.” Then, she sobered. “But back to Sophia. You don’t think she’s in any danger, do you?”
Tara shook her head. “No. That’s the funny part. I don’t get any sense of that.”
Claire nodded. “Well—that’s something, then.” She, too, gazed out at the full moon. But Tara’s next words had her turning to stare at her in shock.
“I think she’s hiding the fact she’s not human.”
“What?!” Claire stammered out.
Tara eyed her friend. “Yeah. I’ve known for a while now.” She turned to look at Claire. “But that’s not our problem. Our problem just might be that Dante might have planted Collin to act as your boyfriend.”
She saw Claire’s mouth fall open. And it didn’t close the entire time it took Tara to fill her in.