Sisters of Blood and Spirit
Page 9

But Kevin had been the reason he’d found me. Kevin was a medium, and Wren had made contact. I didn’t feel guilty because he knew about me. I felt guilty because he knew how badly I’d upset Wren.
Mace opened his mouth to speak—what the hell could he possibly have to say?—but a chord from Kevin’s guitar stopped him, thank God. I jerked my attention toward the stage, because my sister was squealing like a freaking idiot.
Kevin McCrae was a freshman in college. He was tall and well built, with longish curly dark hair, incredible blue eyes and glasses. I thought he looked a little too much like “thoughtful-sensitive man,” but if Wren liked the look of him, who was I to judge? After all, I was trying really hard not to stare at Ben.
He did a couple of covers—Beatles tunes and something by Nirvana. He played well and had a fabulous voice. I hated to admit it, but I enjoyed his set—until his last song.
“This is a song I wrote,” he said in his low, slightly raspy voice. “It’s for Wrenleigh.”
I swear to God my heart freaking stopped. I tried so hard not to glance at my sister, but it was hard when she was right there—part of me. I could feel her nervous energy fluttering inside me. There were very few people in the town, let alone this room, who would have known Wren’s full name. You would have to go to her grave to see it.
Kevin McCrae had written a song about my sister? Just how well did they know each other? How well could they know each other? I forced myself to listen to the lyrics. Something about hearing ghosts for so long, but then one so beautiful he was in awe of her came to him.
Barf.
And then Kevin looked right at me as he sang, “Did you think of how much it would hurt her when you cut to the bone? I felt her pain calling out to me like it was my own.”
He might as well have gotten off the stage, walked up to me and smashed his guitar over my head. I couldn’t believe it. I just sat there, shocked and frozen like an idiot, my face burning.
Screw that. I tried to stand up, but Wren held me to the chair. She’d known. She’d known about the damn song. She’d known he was going to sing it. Everyone at this table knew what he was singing about.
I never thought my sister would sit and watch me be humiliated, the past shoved in my face one more time.
“Get out of me,” I whispered.
“Lark,” she pleaded. “Just listen to the song, please.”
Wren was preternaturally strong, but I wasn’t without my own talents. If she had a little extra power where the living was concerned, then I had a little more influence over the dead—or at least more experience. I gathered up all the hurt and anger inside me and pushed it at her. It must have surprised her, because she let go easily, lifting out of me to hover a few feet above the table. Show off. I’d have been sprawled on the floor if she shoved that hard at me.
I jumped to my feet and ran, elbowing my way through the audience.
“Watch it, cow,” a girl dressed all in white snarled.
I could snarl, too. “Get out of my way.”
She smirked. “Say please.”
What was this, a CW show? This kind of drama just didn’t happen in real life, did it? I took the plastic top off my cup and dumped what was left of my latte down the front of her. She gasped. Actually, it was more of a roar, but I’d already shoved her aside and kept moving. I didn’t stop when I stepped out into the warm September night but made a beeline straight for my borrowed purple Bug. Nan had been so excited at the prospect of me making friends. God, she was even more naive than I was.
I pressed the button to unlock the car and climbed in, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat. For a moment, I sat there, forehead against the steering wheel. How could I have been so stupid? Hadn’t I learned anything? God, I was so deficient. I was going to have to switch schools because I was too young to drop out. I could probably have gotten into one a town or two over. Maybe. My past would have caught up with me sooner or later, it always did, but for a little while I could have hidden.
I started the car and lifted my head. I’d just slipped the gear into Drive when someone stepped in front of the bumper. The headlights made them look ghoulish, but even ghoulish, Mace was gorgeous.
I put down the window and stuck my head out. “Get out of the way.”
“Give us a minute, will you?” he asked. “We just want to talk to you.”
Roxi appeared by the window. “Please, Lark. I can explain. It was my idea.”
“Explain this.” I flipped her the bird. Then, to Mace, “Move, Ryan.”
Roxi’s hand grabbed my shoulder. Her grip was tight, desperate. “Please.”
I ignored her as I revved the engine, trying to scare Mace. He knew I wasn’t going to run him over, though. Jerk. The others stood there with him, clustered in the headlights with anxious expressions on their faces—not what I’d expect of people wanting to mess with me. And my sister was finally there, just on the edge where I could barely see her. I wasn’t in any danger from these people or she would have been full-on Amityville right now.
Unless she was in on it.
And that really was crazy. A genuine insane thought.
I turned off the car and stepped out, holding the door open between me and them like a shield. “What’s going on?”
Kevin had joined our group, too. He looked at me like I was something he’d just scraped off the bottom of his shoe. I didn’t even know the guy. What was his damage?
Roxi stepped forward, hands held out in front of her, imploringly. “Lark, no one meant to hurt you tonight. I’m sorry if you feel like you’ve been ambushed.”