Read Online Old Magic by Marianne Curley - Free Book Online Page B

all?”
    What does she want? An instant replay? My thoughts spin back to the moment. When Pecs grabbed Kate’s elbow and started mauling her throat I wanted to do damage. And I’ve never been a violent person. If anything, I usually run at the first sign of trouble. I haven’t got the stomach for blood, let alone spilled blood, especially mine. But Kate is waiting for my answer as if she wants to hear all the gory details. “Pecs spewed some very descriptive stuff about you, then slobbered all over your neck.”
    There’s an awkward silence. I’ve probably hurt her feelings. Whatever Kate is—strange, weird, wacky, even psychotic—at this moment I don’t care. Her unusual blue-gray eyes lock with mine and I can’t look away. I take in everything about her. Long, silky black hair, pale—almost translucent—skin, the exotic shape of her eyes, and I know no girl could look more . . . I dunno. Striking.
    “Thank you, Jarrod,” she says softly, and I wonder about this.
    “Why are you thanking me?”
    “For what you did tonight. In your own way, even though it ended disastrously, you did what you did because . . . Well, at least at the time, you cared. Pecs insulted me, and you got angry.”
    I try hard to follow. Sure, I remember getting angry. “What did I do?”
    “You caused an earthquake.”
    Okay, I hear what she’s saying. I caused an earthquake. I stare at her. “I caused an earthquake!”
    A smile forms, but there’s no humor in her voice. “I can’t be sure exactly what it was. Let’s put it this way, there’s not much left of the Icehouse Cafe.”
    “I remember something now. Breaking glass, screaming.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. There’s more I’m sure, but the memory of it is fuzzy. “Maybe I got hit on the head. If it’s as bad as you say, something must be responsible for my hazy memories. I don’t remember an earthquake.”
    Kate is shaking her head in frustration. “You almost were hit on the head, by a collapsing ceiling and crash-ing chandelier. But I pushed you out of the way.”
    “Are you saying you saved my life?”
    Suddenly the frustrated look mutates into something definitely hostile. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jarrod, you’re missing the point.”
    Jillian touches her arm, an attempt, I realize, to calm her. “A little slower I think, my dear.”
    Kate tosses her head aggressively, spinning around and muttering under her breath. She moves to the center of the room where she can stand without stooping, her hands on her hips.
    Jillian is still hovering by the door. I realize these are the only two places a person can stand without hitting their head on the ceiling. “I met your mother this afternoon, and your little brother, Casey, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah,” I reply. Jillian is trying to lighten the atmos-phere. I’m glad of the reprieve. Things have a way of growing eerie very quickly with Kate.
    “They had a browse in my shop.”
    I drag my eyes from Kate’s stiff back. “Did they? Mom would like that. She’s into all this weird stuff.”
    Jillian’s eyebrows lift. Oh no, I’ve probably offended her, too. “I didn’t mean . . .” I stumble to find the right words. As usual they never come when I want them.
    She smiles reassuringly, and I see a resemblance to Kate. Not in appearances; they’re different there. Jillian’s hair is wavy, kept short, especially at the back, and light brown. Kate doesn’t look anything like Jillian except in the eyes. It makes me wonder about Kate’s father’s origins—Asian probably, or some Hawaiian island perhaps. I bet she wonders too.
    “She told me about the clothes and jewelry she makes,” Jillian says. “They sound interesting. She’s going to drop in with a sample next week. We’re going to hang them in the shop, see if we can generate some movement. Tourists like that sort of thing. You know, weird stuff.”
    I can’t help but laugh. Jillian is all right. She has a sense of humor. I wish she