“You and me both,” I muttered, then realized how unhappy I sounded. That wasn’t my style. At least I was alive and healthy, not lying in some morgue. I mentally smacked myself out of my pity party.
Stopping on the dirt trail, I turned and faced him. “I’m sorry for complaining, Robson. I’m not the one who’s hurting. It’s the victims and those who loved them. I think about the people who’ve suffered so much at the hands of some vicious killer. It’s horrifying. And their poor families and friends will suffer forever. They’ll never see their loved ones again, but they’ll relive those painful moments over and over. That makes me angry. That’s what hurts most. That’s what I can’t reconcile. It’s so unfair.”
“Exactly,” he said, with a solemn nod.
Okay, I guess I was more upset than I thought. It wasn’t like me to rant in front of Guru Bob. “Sorry to go off like that.”
“There is no need to be sorry.” His eyes were warm, his features set into familiar, comforting lines. “This is what is real in you. We spoke of it the last time. You clearly feel their pain so deeply. You first felt it for Abraham. I know you still hold his loss close to your heart. He was the catalyst that continues to push you to do the right thing for the others. Who better could these victims have on their side than you, Brooklyn?”
“It started with Abraham,” I whispered.
“Yes, of course. It fell upon you to unravel the mystery of his death.”
I frowned. “Nemesis.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “If you will.”
“I’m not pleased about this.”
He took my arm and wove it through his as we turned and headed back to my parents’ home. “You have other things, wonderful things, with which to be pleased.”
“True enough,” I admitted.
He stopped abruptly, turned and met my gaze. “This calling does not require your happiness, Brooklyn. Only your strength, your perseverance, and your innate sense of justice.”
This calling? Good grief, I didn’t want to be called. I swallowed. “I’m not really all that strong.”
“You kid yourself.”
I laughed weakly.
Arm in arm, we walked the rest of the way back in silence. There was nothing left to say and far too much to think about.
Chapter Ten
Mind if the soup is very thick, the juice of a cod’s head will thin it.
—The Cookbook of Obedience Green
If I had thought I might escape Mom’s protection ritual by slipping off to talk to Guru Bob, I was totally wrong. And if I’d thought she would wait until everyone left before she started the whole bizarre performance, I was wrong again.
As soon as I stepped onto the terrace, my family members perked up like little puppies waiting for their bacon treats. The anticipation was palpable. They were hankering for a chance to poke fun at me—and I couldn’t blame them. I would be doing the same thing if one of them was about to become the center of attention in one of Mom’s weird and wacky freak shows.
I should’ve been happy that everyone considered Mom’s ceremonies a good entertainment value. But the scary little secret was, her spells were alarmingly effective as well.
Was it a good thing or a bad thing that my mother was gaining a reputation as a successful witch? Probably a little of both.
Mom pounced the minute she spotted me. “There you are! I’ve got everything ready for the ceremony.”
“Shouldn’t we say good-bye to our guests first?” I said loudly. Hint, hint.
“We’re not going anywhere,” China assured me. She was all tucked up and cuddly with Beau on one of the outdoor love seats on the far side of the terrace. Baby Hannah lay sleeping in Beau’s arms while the grown-ups waited patiently for the show to begin.
I shot Guru Bob a look of alarm, but he just smiled back at me with that virtuous expression of his. And with an encouraging pat on my shoulder, he left me and went over to sit in the chair next to my father. No doubt it was his way of saying, “You’re on your own, buckaroo.”
I scanned the crowd, caught sight of Robin’s smirk and knew she was recalling a similar scene from last year. After being hurt badly by a psychopathic undercover agent, Robin had been treated to one of Mom’s healing rituals. It had been a big success. Not only did Robin heal quickly, but my brother Austin was there for the show and afterward, he’d seemed positively bewitched. Within minutes of the ceremony, he had swept Robin up in his arms and carried her off to his lair. It was a truly romantic sight, a real knight-in-shining-armor moment. Mom had taken all the credit for cosmically kicking Austin’s butt into gear.
“Brooklyn, I’ve a chair for you here.” Derek waved me over to the well-padded patio chair next to him. His eyes twinkled with something like…anticipation. Or mischief?
That’s when I noticed that all the patio furniture had been arranged in a semicircle so that everyone had a good view of me.
My glares had no effect on him.
“It’s all in good fun,” he said.
“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “Just wait till it’s your turn.”