Spells Trouble, Kristin Cast [books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

on the roof and ducked down to peer inside. His left eye was swollen and black and there was a dark scab on his bottom lip. “Hi, Xena.”

“Hello, Jax kitten,” said Xena. She cocked her head and studied him. “Were you victorious in your battle?”

He started to grin and then grimaced as his lip began to bleed again. “Yeah, actually. I was.”

“Good,” Hunter said firmly.

Jax’s gaze shifted to Mercy. Instead of turning away, Mercy met his kind brown eyes. “Hey, Mag. You okay?”

“Yep. Fine.”

His brow lifted, but he didn’t say anything else to her.

Mercy wanted to ask him if he’d really kicked Kirk’s ass. Somewhere deep inside she hoped he had—hoped he’d made Kirk feel just a little of the hurt she was left suffering, but the words got trapped in the gauze that held her heart together.

Jax touched Hunter’s shoulder through the open window. “How you doin’?”

Hunter covered his hand for a moment with her own. “Fine,” she echoed Mercy’s empty word.

Xena cleared her throat. “All right then. Shall we go get our other kitten?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Without waiting for any of them, Mercy got out of the car and climbed the big stone stairs that led to a small but elaborately carved entryway. No wide, comfortable porch for the Parrotts—just lots of show that was totally devoid of warmth. As Hunter, Xena, and Jax came up to stand, fortresslike, behind her, she pressed the doorbell.

Nothing happened for so long that Mercy had raised her hand to press the button again when the door finally opened.

Emily blinked and then squinted as if the light from the setting sun was too bright for her amber eyes. Her chestnut skin looked dull; her beautiful eyes were framed with circles so dark they appeared bruised. And her hair—the gorgeous mahogany mass she was so proud of—that she liked to wear in a wild curl that fell well past her shoulders—was pulled back in a severe scrunchie. She was wearing what Mercy knew she called her watch-TV clothes—an old yellow sweat suit and scuffed sneakers.

Emily looked awful.

“Mag?” She sounded dazed, like she’d been awakened in the middle of sleepwalking. Then her gaze caught on the small group behind Mercy and her eyes widened. “Um, hi, guys. Do you want to come in?”

“Yes, we do.” Xena pushed past her to pull Emily into her arms. “Oh, kitten! I have been so, so worried about you!”

“Uh, thanks.” Emily’s voice was muffled by Xena’s mane of hair, but she returned the cat person’s hug until a sneeze rocked her body.

“I am so sorry.” Xena released Emily and took a step back. “I always forget how allergic you are.”

“Allergic?” Emily’s forehead wrinkled.

Mercy spoke up quickly. “Em, I know this is not a good time, but we need you.”

Emily shook her head a little, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard her friend correctly. “But, I—”

“Emily!” A wobbly old voice drifted from the direction of the kitchen. “If that’s my delivery from the IGA, have them bring the things into the kitchen.”

“No, Grandma, it’s not—”

“Emily Michelle, if that’s my delivery from the pharmacy, tip the boy well.” Her mother’s voice, which Mercy had always thought sounded shrill, splintered the air from the opposite side of the house. “They’re doing me a special favor.”

“It’s not the deliver guy, Mom, it’s—”

“It’s the liquor store. Tip him well, too. Good help is hard to get.” Her grandfather slurred his words from a closer room.

Emily sighed and stared at the floor.

No one came out of their respective hidey-holes to actually see who was at the door. Mercy studied her best friend, who looked completely defeated. She took Emily’s hand. Her friend looked up at her.

“We need you,” she repeated firmly. “Please come with us. It won’t take long, and I’ll explain in the car, but I promise it’s important. Really important.”

Emily stared at her, shoulders bowed in defeat. “I can’t leave.”

“Yes, kitten, you can,” said Xena firmly.

“We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t need you,” said Hunter.

Jax nodded. “Yeah, what they said. And I haven’t seen you since … since, well, you know. But I’m really sorry, Em.”

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat and continued, “I wanna help you guys.” Emily kept her words soft as if speaking too loudly would awaken ghosts. “I really do, but I can’t leave. They’re a mess. Like, my mom can barely make it to the bathroom. Grandpa’s drunk. Grandma’s lost her mind. Someone has to take care of them.”

“Oh, kitten…” Xena whispered.

“Emily!” Her mother’s voice made them all jump. “I need those pills!”

“I thought it was the liquor store,” yelled her grandpa.

“No, I told you, it’s the IGA,” blared from the kitchen.

With each voice—each shout—Emily seemed to shrink more and more inside herself. They’re going to make her completely disappear and the Em I know won’t exist anymore. And Mercy Anne Goode couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

“No!” Mercy shouted, splitting the air with her anger-fueled words. “No!” she repeated. “This is bullshit!” Emily opened and closed her mouth as she stared at her friend. Mercy continued to grip her hand and kept going—kept letting the truth rush from her wounded heart and fall from her lips. “Why can’t anyone be who they’re supposed to be? Your mom’s supposed to be a mother, not a drugged-out, self-indulgent brat.” The words spilled around Mercy, sloshing against the immaculately decorated shell of a home. “Your grandparents are supposed to be your support system—the people you count on for strength and love—not the people you have to prop up.”

“Mag—” Hunter began softly, but Mercy spoke over her.

“And you’re supposed to be a girl—a teenager—a daughter who gets to be sad about losing her dad without having to play grown-up for the grown-ups!” she finished, breathing hard. Her friends stared at her as the heat of her anger drained away, leaving her heart cold and broken again. “Oh. Oh, no. Em, I’m sorry. Really I shouldn’t have said all of that. I—”

“Hello, Mercy. Hello, children.” Emily’s mother stepped into the foyer behind