Shimmer |✓|

//Outsiders// Part 3

I thought about Chandler until dinner. More specifically, I dissected his speech. He put quite a bit of faith in a stranger he barely knew. I found it intriguing, and scary. Because everything he said was more or less accurate–excluding the bit about food. I hated bloody meat. It was much better when drained. 

I sat at the dinner table, staring mutely at my plate. Beneath Beethoven, and the crackle of the fireplace, the silence was still overpowering. Mrs. Trentley bustled in and out, re-filling water glasses and removing empty plates, but even her discussion was limited to "don't burp" and "elbows off". Without my grandmother and the buffer that was her happy chatter, dinner was decidedly unpleasant.

I pushed the uncooked steak across my plate, jabbing my asparagus a few times before breaking the silence. "Can I see her?"

My grandfather occupied his usual seat–at the head of the table, nearest to the fire. Usually, it was only a sea of flickering candles and shining silverware that separated him from Diane. Tonight, it was ugliness, as unsightly as the image of her empty seat.

"It's not possible." His voice was cool, smooth as the diamond cubes floating in his lemon water. Charles raised the glass to his lips, and paused. "Focus on your studies. Keep training with Lucas. Until Diane is home, you will follow your normal routine."

"Yeah. Right. Because this is all just... temporary." I switched my fork to the other hand, tapping it against the china plate. "I've decided to dance at the cotillion again--"

His snort of amusement earned a withering glare. "Again? So you have had the second left foot replaced?"

"Ha-ha. I'm only telling you because I thought you'd be pleased. Grandmother's only begged me to volunteer every other day."

"Indeed, she'd be thrilled to know you're finally performing your civic duty..." We rolled our eyes at the same time. "I assume Alpha Knight will be your escort for the evening? The young man has become quite adept at the waltz."

It was my turn to snort. "He has a girlfriend."

"Nonsense, he has a filler. You're a Noble--there is no comparison. He knows this."

I met his sharp gaze, hard like steel, blue as the Atlantic. Was that a compliment, or just his usual arrogance? I could never tell. "If I go to cotillion with the Alpha, Addy might be... upset."

"And this affects me, how?"

"It doesn't." I twirled my fork. "But it could affect our friendship. She kind of has this crush on him, and--"

"And, nothing. This talk of crushes..." He shook his head in scorn, wiping his mouth on a napkin which he tossed on his plate. "It's childish--grow up. For once, put your own concerns aside and think of the greater good. Allowing the Alpha to escort you to cotillion will be a sign of unity. It will boost morale, bring hope to the future. Furthermore, it will show that you are not afraid of what you know deep down to be your destiny." He rose from his chair, adjusting the lapels of his dinner jacket. "The only question now is who do you value more, Naomi? Your friendship, or your people?"

The anger and resentment rose like bile. Charles would never see me as an adult capable of making my own decisions. In his eyes, I would only ever be a silly, reckless little girl, too green and frail to think on my own. But who's fault was that really?

I interrupted as he passed on his way to the door. "Do you ever wonder where you went wrong with me?"

Charles paused, deflecting my glare. His eyes focused straight ahead, looking past me, as always. "My dear, it was your father I made mistakes with. You're just the result."

He left.

Still slumped in my own chair, I glared at my grandfather's empty seat. I uncrossed my arms showing it the chipped black polish of my middle finger.

"O-o-o-o-oh, harsh! And I thought my family was batshit."

I popped upright, and slo-o-o-o-owly leaned to the left... What I saw, burning in the grate, was so surprising, I fell right to the floor.

<<More magic! Beware!>>

I pushed the hair from my face, in better effort to stare, slack-jawed at the blue flames. It wasn't so much the color that was startling, but the voice the flames produced.

"I tried calling; you're a tough one to reach."

"Apparently not as tough as I thought." I sat up on my hands and knees, recalling the private number. "Who the hell are you?" I took offense to anyone with the strength or cleverness to ambush me. It made me feel weak, like my grandfather did.

"Claudia. I believe we have the Alpha in common--"

You, me, and the rest of the female population... "Oh. So you're a Witch." That much had been demonstrated by her rather inventive method of breaking and entering. No doubt, this was Ethan's contact, supplier of the dreaded Earth Smoke.

Even more reason to hate her.

Claudia's laughter was heartfelt, and throaty. "The disgust--I like it. Reminds me of high school."

I bristled. "Come to think of it, you do sound like someone I once stuffed in a locker. Now, how can I freaking help you?" I got to my feet, looking down on the grate in defiance. Being snubbed by my grandfather hadn't left me in a very generous mood.

Like rhythm projected on a monitor, the flames jumped with every word. "Actually, I'm here to help you. Ethan's worried, he says you're going through some pretty weird shit. As you can see, weird is kind of my forte."

I sighed, closing my eyes as I shook my head. That fucking asshole. "Look..." I stepped closer, approaching the hearth. "Whatever Ethan told you--he shouldn't have. I'm fine, I don't need your help--"

"You mean, you don't need help from a Witch."

Admittedly, today's conversation with Chandler had left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Perhaps if she had used the front door, that feeling would've lessened. As it stood... "No, I don't need help from the Witches--or anyone. I'm sure you can... poof your way out?"

But Claudia was a stubborn one. "Do you know how much magic it requires to control the elements? Unless you're an Elemental, it's a godly amount. It requires years and years of practice and training--none of which you have. But Ethan says when you astral projected, he saw sparks coming out of your fingertips--right after you burned him--"

I cast an uneasy glance to my hands, clenched, at my sides. "What does it matter?" I stepped back until my fingers brushed the dining table...

The head bobbed, like it's invisible shoulders were shrugging. "Maybe it matters, maybe it doesn't... Wouldn't you like to find out?"

"I'll sleep on it." I scooped the glass pitcher from the table, throwing the contents with force. Water doused the bright blue flames; they died with an angry hiss. There was nothing left of Claudia but smoke and ashes.

Carefully, I returned the pitcher to the table, just as Mrs. Trentley had left it. "No more fire."

And no more trusting Ethan.

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