Read Online Book of Shadows by Cate Tiernan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cate Tiernan
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dressed in a long linen dress the dark purple-blue of the night sky. It was elegant and simple and had probably cost a fortune.
“Welcome, girls,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Cal’s mother, Selene Belltower.”
Her voice was powerful and melodious, and I felt a tingling sense of expectation. When I got closer to her, I saw that Cal had inherited her coloring. Dark brown hair was swept carelessly back from her face. Wide, golden eyes slanted over high cheekbones. Her mouth was well shaped, her skin smooth and unlined. I wondered if she had been a model when she was younger.
“Let me guess—you must be Bree,” she said, shaking Bree’s hand. “And you must be Morgan.” Her clear eyes met mine, her gaze seeming to pierce the back of my skull. I blinked and rubbed my forehead. I was actually physically uncomfortable. Then she smiled again, the pain went away, and she ushered us inside. “I’m so glad he’s made new friends. It was hard for us to move, but my company offered me a promotion, and I couldn’t say no.”
I wanted to ask what her job was or find out what had happened to Cal’s dad, but there was no way to ask without being rude.
“Cal’s in his room. Third floor, at the top of the stairs,” said Ms. Belltower, gesturing to the impressive carved staircase. “Some of the others are here already.”
“Thanks,” we both said a bit awkwardly as we climbed the dark, wooden staircase. Beneath our feet a thick flowered carpet cushioned our steps.
“She doesn’t think it’s weird to let a bunch of girls into her teenage son’s bedroom?” I whispered, thinking about how my mom kicks boys out of Mary K.’s room at home.
Bree smiled at me, her eyes shining with excitement. “I guess she’s cool,” she whispered back. “Besides, there’s a bunch of us.”
Cal’s room turned out to be the entire attic of the house. It went from front to back, side to side, and there were small windows everywhere: some square, some round, some clear, some made of stained glass. The roof itself was pitched steeply and rose to about nine feet in the center, only about three feet at the sides.The floor was dark, unpolished wood, the walls unpainted clapboards. In one small gable was an antique desk with school textbooks on it.
We dropped our jackets on a long wooden bench, and I kicked off my clogs, following Bree’s example.
A small working fireplace was set into one wall. Its plain mantel was covered with cream-colored candles of various sizes, maybe thirty of them. Pillars of candles stood around the huge room, some on black wrought-iron stands, some on the floor, some atop glass blocks or even set on top of stacks of ancient-looking books. The room was lit only by candlelight, and the wavering shadows thrown on every wall were hypnotic and beautiful.
My eyes were caught by Cal’s bed, standing off in a larger alcove. I couldn’t help staring at it, feeling frozen to the spot. It was a wide, low bed of dark wood, mahogany or even ebony, with four short bedposts. The mattress was a futon. The bedclothes were of plain, cream-colored linen, and the bed was unmade. As if he had just gotten out of it. Lit candles burned brightly on low tables at either side.
In the far alcove against the back wall of the house, bathed in shadows, the rest of the group was gathered. When Cal saw us, he came over.
“Morgan. Thanks for coming,” he said in his confident, intimate way. “Bree, nice to have you back.”
So Bree had been in his bedroom.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said stiffly, pulling my flannel shirt closer around me. Cal smiled and took both of our hands, leading us to the others. Robbie waved when he saw us. He was drinking dark grape juice from a wine goblet. Beth Nielson stood next to him, her hair newly bleached pale blond. She had medium brown skin, green eyes, and a short-cropped Afro that changed colors with her mood. Sometimes I thought of her looking like a lioness, while Raven
“Welcome, girls,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Cal’s mother, Selene Belltower.”
Her voice was powerful and melodious, and I felt a tingling sense of expectation. When I got closer to her, I saw that Cal had inherited her coloring. Dark brown hair was swept carelessly back from her face. Wide, golden eyes slanted over high cheekbones. Her mouth was well shaped, her skin smooth and unlined. I wondered if she had been a model when she was younger.
“Let me guess—you must be Bree,” she said, shaking Bree’s hand. “And you must be Morgan.” Her clear eyes met mine, her gaze seeming to pierce the back of my skull. I blinked and rubbed my forehead. I was actually physically uncomfortable. Then she smiled again, the pain went away, and she ushered us inside. “I’m so glad he’s made new friends. It was hard for us to move, but my company offered me a promotion, and I couldn’t say no.”
I wanted to ask what her job was or find out what had happened to Cal’s dad, but there was no way to ask without being rude.
“Cal’s in his room. Third floor, at the top of the stairs,” said Ms. Belltower, gesturing to the impressive carved staircase. “Some of the others are here already.”
“Thanks,” we both said a bit awkwardly as we climbed the dark, wooden staircase. Beneath our feet a thick flowered carpet cushioned our steps.
“She doesn’t think it’s weird to let a bunch of girls into her teenage son’s bedroom?” I whispered, thinking about how my mom kicks boys out of Mary K.’s room at home.
Bree smiled at me, her eyes shining with excitement. “I guess she’s cool,” she whispered back. “Besides, there’s a bunch of us.”
Cal’s room turned out to be the entire attic of the house. It went from front to back, side to side, and there were small windows everywhere: some square, some round, some clear, some made of stained glass. The roof itself was pitched steeply and rose to about nine feet in the center, only about three feet at the sides.The floor was dark, unpolished wood, the walls unpainted clapboards. In one small gable was an antique desk with school textbooks on it.
We dropped our jackets on a long wooden bench, and I kicked off my clogs, following Bree’s example.
A small working fireplace was set into one wall. Its plain mantel was covered with cream-colored candles of various sizes, maybe thirty of them. Pillars of candles stood around the huge room, some on black wrought-iron stands, some on the floor, some atop glass blocks or even set on top of stacks of ancient-looking books. The room was lit only by candlelight, and the wavering shadows thrown on every wall were hypnotic and beautiful.
My eyes were caught by Cal’s bed, standing off in a larger alcove. I couldn’t help staring at it, feeling frozen to the spot. It was a wide, low bed of dark wood, mahogany or even ebony, with four short bedposts. The mattress was a futon. The bedclothes were of plain, cream-colored linen, and the bed was unmade. As if he had just gotten out of it. Lit candles burned brightly on low tables at either side.
In the far alcove against the back wall of the house, bathed in shadows, the rest of the group was gathered. When Cal saw us, he came over.
“Morgan. Thanks for coming,” he said in his confident, intimate way. “Bree, nice to have you back.”
So Bree had been in his bedroom.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said stiffly, pulling my flannel shirt closer around me. Cal smiled and took both of our hands, leading us to the others. Robbie waved when he saw us. He was drinking dark grape juice from a wine goblet. Beth Nielson stood next to him, her hair newly bleached pale blond. She had medium brown skin, green eyes, and a short-cropped Afro that changed colors with her mood. Sometimes I thought of her looking like a lioness, while Raven
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