A Merciful Secret

Christian was right. She still carried a lot of bitterness.

I forced a smile and asked again for Christian.

“What do you want with my son?” Her tone was cool, but I felt the ripples of ire under the surface. Her face formed a hard mask, and she didn’t step aside to welcome me in.

I was rattled. “He’s expecting me. We’re going out for lunch.”

Her lips pressed into a hard line. “He doesn’t need—”

“Salome?”

He grinned at me over his mother’s shoulder, and I focused on that face as if I’d been thrown a lifeline.

“Where are you going?” his mother snapped.

“Lunch,” Christian stated. His beautiful smile faded, and he placed a hand on his mother’s upper arm to gently push by her. She guarded the door like a statue.

“I need you for two minutes first,” she told him. Brenda glanced in my direction. “He’ll be right out.” She shut the door in my face.

I couldn’t breathe. I stood there like an idiot, staring at the iron door knocker, as if I thought she’d swing the door back open, laughing and saying that it had been a joke. It didn’t open. I walked backward off the small porch and nearly fell as I missed the single step.

Why is she so rude?

Then I knew. When the door first opened, recognition had flashed in her eyes. I’d attributed her angry aura to the constant bitterness Christian had told me about, but it’d erupted because she knew who I was.

She knew I was the witch. The slut. The whore.

I turned to go to my car, fury heating my limbs. Most times I embraced my notorious titles, but this woman’s disdain struck me deep in my heart. I’d hoped the mother of my best friend would be different.

Their voices came through the window and I stopped, unable not to eavesdrop.

“You were rude!” I’d never heard Christian so angry.

“I know who she is,” his mother hissed. “I know the type of life she leads, and my son will have none of it!”

“You don’t know crap. It’s all bitter gossip.”

“Her mother was a whore and her daughter is just like her. Penniless, dirt-dwelling sluts.”

“And you’re a snob! You can’t see past someone’s clothes and car,” Christian exclaimed. “Salome is awesome and I like spending time with her.”

My heart warmed.

“She’s going to drag you through her mud. We’re better than their kind. I know they’re witches.” The last word sounded as if she was about to vomit.

A long moment of silence followed.

“You’re a horrible person.” Christian’s anger was in control, but it vibrated through every word.

“Where are you going? Come back here.” His mother sounded desperate. “See? She’s cast some sort of spell on you.”

“Give me a fucking break.” His voice was suddenly closer to the door, and it opened an instant later. He smiled at me, but his eyes were furious.

“You don’t have to go,” I told him. “We can do this another day.”

“Ignore her. She can’t stand that I won’t let her tell me what to do anymore.” He strode past me toward the street and then spun around when he noticed I hadn’t followed. “Are you coming?”

“I don’t want to be a problem between you and your mother.” My fights with my mother broke my heart. I didn’t want that for him.

A sports car pulled into the driveway. I knew nothing about cars, a curse of living in the woods, but I instinctively knew this one was expensive. A gasp left my lungs as I recognized the driver. Christian’s older brother.

Christian moved closer to me, his gaze on his brother as he got out of the car and came toward us, a grin on his face as he loosened his tie. “Hey, little bro.” Gabriel’s gaze went to me and I saw no recognition.

The man who’d drugged me and nearly raped me didn’t even remember me.

“Who’s this?” he asked with a kind smile.

“A friend. We’re going to lunch.” Christian grabbed my hand and dragged me away.

Numb, I let him open his car door for me, and I sat staring through the windshield. I shouldn’t have come.

A moment later he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Hey.” He took my hand and tugged until I met his gaze. “My family sucks. I’m sorry both my mother and brother are horrible.”

“It’s okay,” I answered automatically.

“No, it’s not. No one deserves their crap. He didn’t even recognize you, did he?”

I shook my head.

“Asshole.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to have anything to do with me.” Strength flowed back into my spine. “Does she really think I bewitched you?” The absurdity of her words finally amused me. I was used to people avoiding me and whispering behind their hands. I didn’t give a fuck what others thought, but I’d hoped Christian’s mother would be more like him. Instead she was more like her oldest son.

“Clearly she’s heard the gossip,” Christian admitted, “but I never thought she’d react like that.”

“She knew instantly who I was. What have you told her about me?”

“We’ve never discussed you.”

I snorted. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” But I said it with a smile.

His mother had caught me off guard and stabbed her way through my shields. It wouldn’t happen again.

“You’re not a witch, right?” he joked as he started his vehicle.

“I only help others.” We’d touched on this topic several times. I’d shown him the ointments and teas I sold and explained what was in them. He’d ordered me to stop selling the potions with booze, worried someone could get hurt. I saw his point and stopped. Ever since school was out, the demand had dried up anyway. I’d never told him about my sensory talents. It was too difficult to explain.

“I’m sorry she was a bitch,” he told me.

Scents of regret and embarrassment filled the car. I touched his hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t wait to get out of here for college.”

He was going to California. Briefly I’d considered following him, but the financial numbers simply didn’t add up. I also didn’t want to scare away any potential girlfriends. His friends were uncomfortable when I was around, so I knew no girlfriend would approve of our close friendship.

I would miss him dreadfully.

TWENTY-FOUR

Eyes like Christian’s looked at Mercy from Gabriel’s face and unnerved her. The brothers also tipped their heads in the same curious manner, and had identical voices.

Gabriel carefully recited his answers to her questions. She frequently glanced at Christian, wondering if he knew how much they sounded alike.

“Why did you come here instead of go to your home in Portland?” Mercy asked.

“The media was all over the murder,” said Gabriel. “My neighbors told me reporters had been camping out on my street. I knew Christian’s home was secluded. Besides, family is important at a time like this.”

Christian shifted his feet and looked out the window.

There’s not much affection in this room.

“Have you talked with your mother?”

“Of course,” said Gabriel. “Even though they’ve been divorced for decades, my mother still cared for my father.”