Book of Shadows - Кейт Тирнан

BOOK OF SHADOWSSweep Series, Book 1Cate Tiernan

CHAPTER 1 Cal Blaire

Years from now I'll look back and remember today as the day I met him. I'll look back and remember the exact moment my life began to include him.. I will remember it forever.

I wore a green tie-dyed T-shirt and jeans. My best friend, Bree Warren, arrived in a peasant shirt and a long black skirt down to her violet toenails, and of course she looked beautiful and sophisticated.

"Hey, junior," she greeted me with a hug, even though I'd seen her the day before.

"See you in AP calc," I told Janice Yutoh, and met Bree halfway down the front steps. "Hey," I said back. "It's hot. It's supposed to be crisp on the first day of school." It wasn't even eight-thirty, but the early September sun was burning whitely, and the air felt muggy and still. Despite the weather I felt excited, expectant: A whole new year was starting, and we were finally upperclassmen.

"Maybe in the Yukon territory," Bree suggested. "You look great."

"Thanks," I said, appreciating her diplomacy. "You too."

Bree looks like a model. She's tall, five-nine, and has a figure most girls would starve themselves for, except Bree eats everything and think dieting is for lemmings. She has milky dark hair that she usually gets styled in Manhattan, so it falls in perfectly tousled waves to the base of her neck. Wherever we go, people turn their heads to look at her.

The thing about Bree is that she knows she's gorgeous, and she enjoys it. She doesn't shrug off compliments, or complain about her looks, or pretend she doesn't know what people are talking about. But she isn't exactly conceited, either. She just accepts what she looks like and thinks it's cool.

Bree glanced over my shoulder at Widow's Vale High. Its redbrick walls and tall Palladian windows betrayed its former incarnation as our town courthouse. "They didn't paint the woodwork," she said. "Again."

"Nope. Oh my God, look at Raven Meltzer," I said. "She got a tattoo."

Raven's a senior and the wildest girl in our school. She has dyed black hair, seven body piercings (that I can see, anyways), and now a circle of flames tattooed around her belly button. She's amazing to look at, at least for meOrdinary Girl, with long, all-one-length, medium brown hair. I have dark eyes and a nose that could be described as "strong." Last year I grew four inches, so I'm five-six now. I have broad shoulders and no hips and am still waiting for the breast fairy to show up.

Raven headed to the side of the cafeteria building where the stoners hung out.

"Her mom must be so proud," I said cattily, but inside I admired her daring. What would it be like to care so little about what other people thought of you?

"I wonder what happens to her nose stud when she sneezes?" asked Bree, and I giggled.

Raven nodded to Ethan Sharp, who already looked wasted at eight-thirty in the morning. Chip Newton, who's absolutely brilliant in math, way better than me, and our school's most reliable dealer, gave Raven a soul handshake. Robbie Gurevitch, my best friend after Bree, looked up and smiled at her.

"God, it's so weird to see Mary K. here," said Bree, glancing around and running her fingers though her wind-tossed hair.

"Yeah. She'll fit right in," I said. My younger sister Mary Kathleen, was headed toward the main building, laughing with a couple of her friends. Next to most of the freshmen, Mary K. looked mature and together, with grown-up curves. Stuff just comes easily to Mary K.-her hip but not too hip clothes, her naturally pretty face, her good but not perfect grades, her wide circle of friends. She's a genuinely nice person, and everyone adores her, even me. You can't help it with Mary K.

"Hey, baby," said Chris Holly loudly, coming up to Bree. "Hey, Morgan," he said to me. Chris leaned down and gave Bree a quick kiss, which she caught on her lips.

"Hey, Chris," I said. "Ready for school?"

"Now I am," he said, giving Bree a lustful smile.

"Bree! Chris!" Sharon Goodfine waved, gold bangles clinking on her wrist.

Chris grabbed Bree's hand and pulled her toward Sharon and the other usuals: Jenna Ruiz, Matt Adler, Justin Bartlett.

"Coming?" Bree asked, falling behind.

I made a wary face. "No, thank you."

"Morgan, they like you fine," Bree said under her breath, reading my mind as she often did. She'd dropped Chris's hand, waiting for me while he went on ahead.

"It's okay. I need to talk to Tamara, anyway." Bree knew I didn't feel comfortable with her clique.

She paused another moment. "Okay, see you in homeroom."

"See ya."

Bree began to turn away but stopped, her mouth dropping open like someone in Acting 101 doing "dumbstruck." I turned and followed her gaze and saw a boy coming up the steps to our school.

It was like in a movie when everything goes to soft focus, everyone becomes silent, and time slows down while you figure out what you're looking at. It was just like that, watching Cal Blaire come up the board, worn front steps of Widow's Vale High.

I didn't know then that he was Cal Blaire, of course.

Bree turned back toward me, her eyes wide. "Who is that?" she mouthed.

I shook my head. Without thinking, I put my palm to my chest to slow my heartbeat.

The guy walked up to us with a calm confidence I envied. I was aware of heads turning. He smiled at us. It was like the sun coming out of the clouds. "Is this the way to the vice principal's office?" he asked.

I've seen good-looking guys before. Bree's boyfriend, Chris, in fact, is really good-looking. But this guy was breathtaking. Raggedy, black-brown hair looked as if he hacked at it himself. He had a perfect nose, beautiful olive skin, and riveting, ageless, gold-colored eyes. It took me a second to realize he was speaking to us.

I gazed at him stupidly, but Bree sparkled. "Right through there and to the left," she said, pointing to the nearest door. "It's unusual to transfer as a senior, isn't it?" she asked, studying the piece of paper he held out to her.

"Yeah," the guy said. He gave a half smile. "I'm Cal. Cal Blaire. My mom and I just moved here."

"I'm Bree Warren." Bree gestured to me. "And this is Morgan Rowlands."

I didn't move. I blinked a couple of times and tried to smile. "Hi," I finally said in a near whisper, feeling like a five-year-old. I'm never good at talking to guys, and this time I felt so overwhelmed and shy that I couldn't function at all. I felt like I was trying to stand up in a gale.

"Are you seniors?" Cal asked.

"Juniors," Bree said apologetically.

"Too bad," Cal said. "We won't have classes together."

"Actually, you might have some with Morgan," Bree said, with a cute, self-deprecating laugh. "She's taking senior math and science."

"Cool," Cal said, smiling at me. "I better check in. Nice meeting you. Thanks for your help." He turned and strode to the door.

"Bye!" Bree said brightly.

As soon as Cal passed though the wooden doors onto the school building Bree grabbed my arm. "Morgan, that guy is a god!" she squealed. "He's going to school here! He'll be here all year!"

The next moment found us surrounded by Brea's friends.

"Who is he?" Sharon asked eagerly, her dark hair brushing her shoulders. Suzanne Herbert jostled her, trying to get closer to Bree.

"Is he going to school here?" Nell Norton asked.

"Is he straight?" Justin Bartlett wondered aloud. Justin's been out of the closet since seventh grade.

I glanced at Chris. He was frowning. As Bree's friends reviewed the meager info, I stepped back, out of the crowd. I drifted to the entrance and put my hand on the heavy brass handle, swearing I could still feel the warmth from Cal's touch.

A week passed. As usual, I felt a tingle in my chest as I walked into physics class and saw Cal there. He still looked like a miracle sitting in a dinged-up wooden desk. A god on a mortal place. Today he was focusing his beam on Alessandra Spotford. "It's like a harvest festival? Up in Kinderhook?" I heard him asking her.

Alessandra smiled and looked flustered. "It's not till October," she explained. "We get our pumpkins there every year." She tucked a curl behind her ear.

I sat down and opened my notebook. In one week Cal had become the most popular guy at my school. Forget popular; he was a celebrity. Even a lot of the boys at my school liked him. Not Chris Holly or any guy whose girlfriend was salivating over Cal, but most of the others.

"What about you, Morgan?" Cal asked, turning to me. "Have you been to the harvest festival?"

Casually I flipped to the current chapter in our textbook and nodded, feeling a rush of giddiness at hearing him say my name. "Pretty much everyone goes. There's not a lot else to do around here unless you go down to New York City, and that's two hours away."

Cal had spoken to me several times over the past week, and each time it had gotten a little easier for me to reply to him. We had physics and calculus together everyday.

He turned in his desk to face me fully, and I permitted myself a quick glance at him. I don't always trust myself to do this. Not if I want me vocal cords to work. My throat tightened right on schedule.

What was it about Cal that made me feel like this? Well, he was gorgeous, for one obvious thing. But it was more than that. He was different than the other guys I knew. When he looked at me, he really looked at me. He wasn't glancing around the room, checking for his buds or trolling for prettier girls or sneaking quick looks at my breastsnot that I have any. He wasn't self-conscious at all, and he wasn't keeping score socially the way everybody else does. He seemed to look at me or Tamara, who was in advanced classes, too, with the same frank intensity and interest that he looked at Alessandra or Bree or one of the other local goddesses.

"So what do you do for fun the rest of the time?" he asked me.

I looked back down at my textbook. I wasn't used to this. Good-looking guys usually only talked to me when they wanted a homework assignment.

"I don't know," I said mildly. "Hang out. Talk to friends. Go to movies."

"What kind of movies do you like?" He leaned forward as if I were the most interesting person in the world and there was no one he would rather be talking to. His eyes never left my face.

I hesitated, feeling awkward and tongue-tied. "Anything. I really like all kinds of movies."

"Really? Me too. You'll have to tell me which theaters to go to. I'm still learning my way around."

Before I could agree or disagree, he smiled at me and turned to face the front of the room as Dr. Gonzalez walked in, thumped his heavy briefcase on his desk, and began to call roll.

I wasn't the only person Cal was charming. He seemed to like everybody. He talked to everyone, say by different people, didn't show favorites. I knew that at least four of Bree's friends were dying to go out with him, but I hadn't heard of any successes so far. I did know that Justin Bartlett had struck out.

CHAPTER 2 I Wish

"You have to admit he's good-looking," Bree pressed, leaning against my kitchen counter.

"Of course I admit it. I'm not blind," I said, busily opening cans. It was my night to make dinner. The washed, cut-up chicken was sitting naked in a large Pyrex dish. I dumped out a can of cream of artichoke soup, a can of cream of celery soup, and a jar of marinated artichoke hearts. Voila: dinner.

"But he seems like kind of a player," I continued mildly. "I mean, how many people has he gone out with in the last two weeks?"

"Three," said Tamara Pritchett, unfolding her long, skinny frame onto the bench in out breakfast nook. It was Monday after noon, the beginning of the third week of school. I could safely say the Cal Blaire's arrival in the sleepy town of Widow's Vale was the most exciting thing that had happened since the Millhouse Theater burned to the ground two years ago. "Morgan, what is that?"

"Chicken Morgan," I said. "Delicious and nutritious." I reached into the fridge for a Diet Coke and popped the top. Ahhh.

"Toss me one of those," Robbie said, and I got him one. "How come when a guy dates a lot, he's a player, but if a girl does, she's just picky?"

"That is so not true," Bree protested.

"Hello, girls and Robbie," my dad said, wandering into the kitchen, his brown eyes somewhat vague behind his glasses. He was wearing his usual uniform: khaki pants; a button-down shirt. Short sleeved because of the weather; and a white T-shirt underneath it. In the winter he wears the same thing except with a long-sleeved shirt and a knit sweater vest over it all.

"Hey, Mr. R," Robbie said.

"Hi, Mr. Rowlands," Tamara said, and Bree waved.

Dad glanced around distractedly, as if to make sure that this was really his kitchen. With a smile at us he wandered out again. Bree and I shared a grim. We knew that soon he'd remember what he had come in to get, and he'd return for it. He works in research and development at IBM, and they think he's a genius. Around our house, he's more like a slow kindergartner. He can't keep his shoes tied, and he has no concept of time.

I stirred the mixture in the glass pan and covered it with foil. The I grabbed four potatoes and scrubbed them in the sink.

"I'm glad my mom cooks," Tamara said. "Anyways, Cal has gone out with Suzanne Herbert, Raven Meltzer, and Janice." She ticked off the names on her fingers.

"Janice Yutoh?" I squealed, putting the dish in the oven. "She didn't even tell me about it!" I frowned and added the potatoes. "God, he sure doesn't have a type, does he? It's like one from column A, one from column B, one from column C."

"That dog," said Robbie, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Robbie was such a close friend, I hardly noticed it anymore, but he had terrible acne. He had been supercute until seventh grade, which made it all the harder on him.

Bree wrinkled her forehead. "The Janice Yutoh thing I can't figure out. Unless she was helping him with homework."

"Janice is actually really pretty," I said. "She's just so shy, you don't notice it. I can't figure out Suzanne Herbert."

Bree almost choked. "Suzanne is gorgeous! She modeled for Hawaiian Tropic last year!"

I smiled at Bree. "She looks like Malibu Barbie, and she's got the brain to match." I ducked as Bree tossed a grape at me.

"Not everyone can be a National Merit Scholar," she said snippily. She paused and then said, "I guess none of us are wondering about Raven. She goes through guys like Kleenex."

"Oh, and you don't," I teased her, and was rewarded by another grape bouncing off my arm.

"Hey, Chris and I have been together for almost three months now," Bree said.

"And?" Robbie prompted her.

Self-righteousness mixed with rueful embarrassment crossed Bree's face. "He's bugging me a little," she admitted.

Tam and I laughed, and Robbie snorted.

"I guess you're just picky," Robbie said.

My dad wandered into the kitchen again, got a pen from the pen jar, and headed out again.

"Okay," Bree said, opening the back door. "I better get home before Chris freaks out." She made a face. "Where have you been?" she said in a deep-voiced imitation. She rolled her eyes and left, and moments later we heard her temperamental BMW, Breezy, take off and chug down the street.

"Poor Chris," Tamara said. Her curly brown hair was escaping from her headband, and she expertly twisted in back underneath.

"I think his days are numbered," Robbie said, taking a sip of soda.

I pulled out a bag of salad and ripped it open with my teeth. "Well, he lasted longer than usual."

Tam nodded. "It might be a new record."

The back door flew open and my mom staggered in, her arms full of files, flyers, and real estate signs. Her jacket was wrinkled, and it had a coffee stain on one pocket. I grabbed the stuff from her hands and set it on the kitchen table.

"Mary, mother of God," my mom muttered. "What a day. Hi, Tamara, honey. Hey, Robbie. How have you two been? How's school so far?"

"Fine, thanks, Mrs. Rowlands," Robbie said.

"How about you?" Tamara asked. "You looked like you've been working hard."

"You could say that," my mom said with a sigh. She hung her jacket on a hook by the door and headed to the cabinet to fix herself a whiskey sour from a mix.

"Well, we better head out," Tamara announced, picking up her backpack. She kicked Robbie's sneaker gently. "Come on, I'll give you a ride. Nice seeing you, Mrs. Rowlands."

"See you later," Robbie said.

"Bye, guys," my mom said, and the back door closed behind them. "Gosh Robbie's getting tall. He's really growing into himself." She came over to give me a hug. "Hi, sweetheart. It smells great in here. Is it chicken Morgan?"

"Yep. With baked potatoes and frozen peas."

"Sounds perfect." She drank from her glass, which smelled sweet and citrusy.

"Tiny sip?" I asked.

"No, ma'am!" Mom replied, as she always did. "Let me change, and I'll set the table. Is Mary K. here?"

I nodded. "Upstairs with some of the Mary K. fan club."

Mom frowned. "Boy or girls?"

"I think both."

Mom nodded and headed upstairs, and I knew that the boys, at least, were going to get the boot.

"Hi. Can I sit here?" Janice asked at lunch period the next day, pointing to an empty spot on the grass of the school's court yard next to Tamara.

"Of course," Tamara said, waving a handful of Fritos. "We'll be even more multiculti." Tamara was one of the very few African Americans in our overwhelmingly white school, and she wasn't afraid to joke about it, particularly with Janice, who was sometimes self-conscious about being one of very few Asians.

Janice sat down cross-legged with her tray balanced on her lap.

"Excuse me," I said pointedly. "Is there any interestingnews you'd like to share?"

Confusion crossed Janice's face as she chewed the school's version of meat loaf and swallowed. "What? You mean from class?"

"No," I said impatiently. "Romantic news." I raised my eyebrows.

Janice's pretty face turned pink. "Oh. You mean Cal?"

"Of course I mean Cal!" I practically exploded. "I can't believe you didn't say anything."

Janice shrugged. "We just went out once," she said. "Last weekend."

Tamara and I waited.

"Can you embellish, please?" I pressed after a minute. "I mean, we're your friends. You went out with the single best-looking guy on the planet. We deserve to know."

Janice looked pleased and embarrassed. "It didn't really seem like a date," she said finally. "It's more, like, he's trying to get to know people. Know the area. We drove around and talked a lot, and he wanted to know all about the town and the people"

Tamara and I looked at each other.

"Hmm," I said finally. "So you're not hooking up or anything?"

Tamara rolled her eyes. "Be blunt, why don't you Morgan?"

Janice laughed. "It's fine," she said. "And no. No hooking up. I think we're just friends."

"Hmmm," I said again. "He is friendly, isn't he?"

"Speak of the devil," Tamara said softly.

I looked up to see Cal ambling toward us, his lips curved in a smile.

"Hey," he said, crouching on the grass next to us. "Am I interrupting anything?"

I shook my head and drank my soda in an attempt to look casual.

"Are you getting settle in?" Tamara asked. "Widow's Vale is pretty small, so it probably won't take you long to figure out where everything is."

Cal smiled at her, and I blinked at his supernatural face. By now I expected to have this reaction when I was around him, so it didn't bother me as much.

"Yeah. It's pretty here," Cal said. "Full of history. I feel like I've gone back in time." He looked down at the patch of grass, absently stroking a blade between his fingers. I tried not to stare, but I found myself wanting to touch what he touched.

"I came over to ask if you guys would come to a party this Saturday night," Cal said.

We were all so surprised that we didn't say anything for a second. It seemed gutsy for a relative stranger to throw a party so soon.

"Rowlands!" Bree called from across the lawn, then came and sank down gracefully on the grass next to me. She gave Cal a beautiful smile. "Hi, Cal."

"Hey. I've been going around inviting people to a party this Saturday." Cal said.

"A party!" Bree looked like this was the best idea she'd ever heard. "What kind of party? Where? Who's coming?"

Cal laughed, leaning back his head so I could see the strong column of his throat, with its smooth tan skin. In the vee of his shirt hung a worn leather string with a silver pendant on it, a five-pointed star surrounded by a circle. I wondered what the symbol meant.

"Well the weather's all right, it will be an outdoor party," Cal said. "Mostly I just want to have a chance to talk to people, you know, not at school. I'm asking most of the juniors and seniors-"

"Really?" Bree's lovely brows arched.

"Sure," Cal said. "The more the merrier. I figured we could all meet up outside. The weather's been beautiful lately, and there's this field right at the edge of town over past Tower's market. I thought we could sit around and talk, look at the stars"

We all stared at him. Kids hung out at the mall. Kids hung out at the movie theater. Kids even hung out at the 7-Eleven when things got really slow. But nobody ever hung out in the middle of an empty field out past Tower's market.

"This isn't the kind of thing you usually do, is it?" he asked.

"Not really," Bree said carefully. "But it sounds great."

"Okay. Well, I'll print up some directions. Hope you guys can come." He stood smoothly, gracefully, the way an animal rises.

I wish he were mine.

I was shocked that my brain had formed the thought. I'd never felt that way about anyone. And Cal Blaire was so out of my league that wanting him seemed stupid, almost pathetic. I shook my head. This was pointless. I would just have to snap out of it.

When he was gone, my friends turned to each other excitedly.

"What kind of a party is this?" Tamara wondered out loud.

"I wonder if there'll be a keg or something," Bree said.

"I think I'm going out of town this weekend," Janice said, looking half disappointed, half relieved.

The four of us watched as Cal approached Bree's other friends, who were hanging out on the benched at the edge of the school grounds. After talking to them, he headed to the stoners clustered by the doors to the cafeteria. The funny thing was, he looked just like each crowd he spoke to. When he was with the brains, like me and Tamara and Janice, he was totally believable as a gorgeous, brilliant, deeply inquisitive scholar type. When he was with Bree's friends, he looked cool, casual, and hip: a trendsetter. And when he was standing next to Raven and Chip, I could totally imagine him as a stoner, smoking pot every day after school. It was amazing how comfortable he was with everyone.

On one level I envied it since I'm comfortable with only a small group of people, my good friends. In fact, my two closest friends, Bree and Robbie, I've known since we were babies and our families lived on the same block. That was before Bree's family moved into a huge modern house with a view of the river and long before we'd split up into different cliques. Bree and I were two of the only people at our school who managed to be close despite belonging to different groups.

Cal wasuniversal, in a way. And even though I was nervous, I wanted to go to that party.

CHAPTER 3 The Circle

I am casting the net. Pray for my success, that I may increase our number and find those for whom I search.

The porch light cast a shadow across our lawn. Before me, on the crunchy, dried-out autumn grass, a small, darker me walked to my car.

"What's wrong with Breezy?" I asked.

"She's making a weird pinging noise," Bree said.

I rolled my eyes, hoping she could see me. Bree's expensive, sensitive car was always doing one thing or another. So much for fancy engineering.

I opened the driver's side door and eased onto the cool vinyl seat of Das Boot, my beautiful white 71 Chrysler valiant. My dad likes to joke that my car weighs more than a submarine, so we named it Das Boot, the German word for boat and the title of my dad's all-time favorite movie, Bree climbed in the other side, and we waved good-bye to my dad, who was putting out the trash.

"Drive carefully, sweetheart," he called.

I started the engine and glanced out my window at the sky. The waning moon was a thin, sharp crescent. A wisp of a dark cloud drifted across it, blotting it from the sky and making the stars pop into prominence.

"Are you going to tell me where Chris is?" I asked as I turned onto Riverdale Drive.

Bree sighed, "I told him I promised to go with you," she said.

"Oh, jeez, don't tell me," I groaned. "I'm afraid of driving by myself at night; is that it?"

Bree rubbed he forehead. "Sorry," she muttered. "He's gotten so possessive. Why do guys always do that? You go out with them for a while, and suddenly they own you." She shivered, though it was barely chilly. "Turn right on Westwood."

Westwood headed right out of town, northward.

Bree waved the piece of paper that had the directions. "I wonder what this will be like. Cal is reallydifferent, isn't he?"

"Uh-huh." I took a swig of seltzer, letting the conversation die. I was reluctant to talk to Bree about Cal, but I wasn't sure why.

"Okay, okay!" Bree said excitedly a few minutes later. "This is it! Stop here!" She was already scrambling out of her seat belt, grabbing her macramé purse.

"Bree," I said politely, looking around. "We're in the middle of freaking nowhere."

Technically, of course, you're always somewhere. But this deserted road on the out skirts of town didn't feel like it. To the left were acres of cornfields, tall and awaiting harvest. To the right was a wide strip of unmowed field edged by think woods that led back toward town in a large, ragged vee.

"It says to park under that tree," Bree instructed me. "Come on."

I eased Das Boot off the side of the road and glided heavily to a stop beneath a huge willow oak. That was when I saw moonlight glinting off at least seven other cars that hadn't been visible from the road.

Robbie's distinctive red VW Beetle sat glowing darkly like a giant lady bug under the tree, and I saw Matt Adler's white pickup, Sharon's SUV, and Tamara's dad's station wagon edged up neatly next to them. Parked in a sloppy circle around them were Raven Meltzer's battered black wreck, a gold Explorer that I recognized as Cal's, and a green minivan that I thought belonged to Beth Nielson, Raven's best friend. I didn't see any people, but there was a somewhat trampled path though the tall, dried grass toward the woods.

"I guess we're supposed to go there," Bree said, sounding uncharacteristically unsure. I was glad she was here with me and that Chris wasn't. If I'd had to come by myself, I might not have had the nerve to show.

We followed the path of beaten grass, the cool evening breeze filtering though my hair. When we reached the edge of the woods, Bree pointed. I could barely make out the pale gleam of her fingers in the forest darkness. Looking ahead, I saw it: a small clearing and shadowed shapes standing around a low fire ringed with stone. I heard a low laughter and smelled the delicious sent of wood smoke coiling though the newly crisp air. Suddenly an out door party seemed like a brilliant idea.

We stepped carefully though the woods toward the fire. I heard Bree swearing under her breathher chunky platform sandals weren't the best shoes for nighttime hiking. My own clogs were cheerfully crunching twigs underfoot. I heard a crashing sound behind us and startled, then saw it was Ethan Sharp and Alessandra Spotford, lurching through the forest after us.

"Watch it!" Alessandra hissed at Ethan. "That branch hit me right in the eye."