Third Time is a Charm Read online

  Did I think she would embarrass me? No.

  But I wasn't willing to bet on that.

  My new wool coat was pleasantly warm, and the lined leather gloves were like a dream. I was used to handknit mittens and not having the use of my fingers outdoors for three months of the year. But with the gloves I had no problem catching the end of my soft scarf and drawing it up over my head to keep my ears out of the wind.

  "You look fancy," Nick said. Then his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. He must be picking up old-fashioned words living with his grandfather.

  "I do," I said merrily. "Apparently our inheritance of the school includes a monthly allowance, and when we got it, Sophie insisted I spend mine on a whole new wardrobe."

  "That must have been fun," he said. There was just a hint of a question mark on the end of that sentence.

  "I'm not really a shopping girl," I said, confirming his suspicion, I was sure. "I like nice things; I just don't like the process of finding them. And Sophie took me to the Mall of America. Have you ever been there?"

  "Once or twice," Nick said.

  "It's really big and really full of people," I said. "It's kind of stressful."

  "But the mission was a success?" he said.

  "Actually, it was," I said. "I think it's part of Sophie's magic, finding the perfect thing among racks and racks of the wrong things. That, and the thing where she can make her hair look perfect just by running her fingers through it."

  Nick cleared his throat awkwardly. I'm guessing it was the word "magic." I had explained to him that we were witches, but only the barest of details. He reacted badly to me trying to tell him more than he was ready to hear. Apparently, even the stray mention was almost painful for him.

  "Here we are," he said, rushing up the steps of the condo building to hold the door open for me. I stepped past him, unwinding the scarf from around my head.

  The lobby had the feeling of a place designed for a use it never saw. The benches against the far wall didn't look like they'd ever been sat on. But someone spent time here. The elaborate brass art thing on the wall, some radiating wires with knobbier bits that spanned more than four feet, was completely free of dust.

  "We're upstairs," Nick said, moving the plate of cupcakes from hand to hand as he pulled off his gloves with his teeth.

  "How many units are there?" I asked as I followed him down a long hallway lit by bright lights that hung down from the ceiling like globes from metallic stems.

  "Eight," he said. "Four up and four down. The two at the back upstairs have a partial river view, but grandfather and I are in the unit at the front."

  The hallway ended in a glass-walled stairwell. The steps were wide but shallow, and so thickly carpeted our feet made no sound. Nick smiled back at me from the landing before continuing up the second flight of steps to the second floor.

  "I should warn you about the food," Nick was saying. "My grandfather has been a widower since he was forty. He loves to cook, but I'm not sure everyone would call what he does cooking. It's basically opening a lot of cans and adding a top layer of potato chips before throwing it in the oven."

  "Comfort food," I said with a smile. "I'm sure it will be just fine."

  "I should have asked if you were a vegetarian or anything," he said.

  "Total omnivore," I said. I was going to say something more, but out of nowhere I had a sudden, vicious pain in my head. More than a headache; it was as if my head were being cleaved in two by an axe.

  The world went black around me, and the ringing in my ears drowned out Nick's voice to nothing more than a concerned-sounding murmur in a cacophony of bells. I felt something hit my knees and was vaguely aware that I had fallen forward.

  I put both my hands to my head, trying to somehow hold it all together. It wanted to fall apart, to fall open and expose my brain. The open air on my brain, that was going to be intolerable. Like when you get an injection with a needle and somehow taste steel on your tongue. Too, too much sensation.

  Then, as promptly as it started, it was gone.

  "Amanda?"

  "I'm okay," I said, but I was still clutching my head. I forced my hands to unclench from my hair. The hair I had been so careful not to muss by forgoing a hat and being gentle with the scarf. It would be a chaotic mess now.

  "Are you sure?" Nick asked. He had dropped to one knee beside me. I wasn't sure he was even aware that he was still holding a plate of cupcakes.

  "Yes," I said, taking a shaky breath then another, steadier one. "Yes, it's passed."

  "What was it?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I've never felt anything like that before."

  "Is it a side effect from what happened to you before? The poisoning?" he asked.

  "After all this time? I don't think so," I said. "I could use a drink of water, though."

  "Of course," he said, getting to his feet then extending his free hand to help me back to mine. I smoothed the end of my tunic sweater back down over my leggings and summoned a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."

  "Tell me if that changes," he said earnestly.

  "I will," I promised. But I doubted I would get a warning the second time when I hadn't had one the first time.

  A wink of light caught my eye, the brass numbers on the door of the condo on my right. The one with a river view.

  I had a sudden urge to throw open that door, to enter the apartment beyond and face whatever had just triggered what I had gone through. But that made no sense. There was no sound from the other side of the door, and no light coming from under the door itself.

  "Who lives here?" I asked. Nick looked up at the number as he held out his arm for me to take. An old-fashioned gesture, but not one I was prepared to refuse.

  "There? I've never seen anyone go in or out of there," he admitted. "There aren't any vacancies in the building. I guess it must be snowbirds."

  Nick guided me down the hall to the last door on the right. He knocked lightly before opening the door. He immediately stuck out one knee, a gesture that struck me as rather strange until his grandfather's Irish setter Finnegan charged into it.

  "Hey, buddy," Nick said, handing me the plate of cupcakes so he could scratch Finnegan's ears then catch hold of his collar to direct him out of the doorway.

  "Nick?" a voice called from further in the apartment.

  "Hey, granddad," Nick called back. "We're here."

  I stepped into the apartment. My first impression was all gleaming white and darkest black in boxy, mostly horizontal arrangements. The building had a modernist design to it, and Nick's granddad followed that up with a few modernists pieces of furniture but a mostly minimalist feel. No art on the bright white walls, no visible hardware on the dark black wood of the cabinet doors that matched the hardwood floor.

  Nick's grandfather was emerging from the kitchen that was set off from the living room by a bar of the same dark wood. He was wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

  "Hello, Mr. Larson," I said, putting out my hand to shake. "I'm Amanda Clarke."

  "So good to meet you," he said. He gave my hand a quick shake then raised it to his lips to brush the back of it with a dry kiss. "Nick has told me quite a bit about you."

  "Likewise," I said, then held out the plate. "I brought dessert. Pumpkin pie cupcakes. I know Thanksgiving is almost here, but I just can't wait for pumpkin pie."

  "I'm quite the fan of it myself," he said with a wink. He took the plate with him back to the kitchen.

  Dinner was all Nick had told me it would be: tuna casserole topped with what I was sure were Old Dutch potato chips, and even the peas had come from a can.

  I loved it. It was a far cry from Mr. Trevor's carefully executed recipes, but it tasted like stick-to-your-ribs food. Food to eat with a family.

  Nick's granddad talked through the entire meal, anecdotes of Nick's childhood that seemed designed to bring that blush back to Nick's cheeks. I laughed and prompted him to tell me more in all the appropriate places, but in truth, I was having
a hard time concentrating.

  It was like that apartment next door was looming over me. Casting a shadow on my mind. I didn't sense a consciousness, or I didn't think I did. I was still new to this whole magic thing.

  But something was demanding my attention. What could it be?

  "We should have some coffee with these cupcakes," Nick's granddad said.

  "You sit. I'll get it," Nick said, putting a hand on his granddad's shoulder as if he might have to use force to keep him in place.

  "He's a good boy," he said when Nick was occupied with the coffee maker.

  "He is," I agreed.

  "He's seen things he can't unsee. He doesn't talk about it, but I can tell. I saw some things myself, back when I was in Vietnam,” he said. He stopped talking with something like a lurch like he hadn't meant to open this line of dialogue at all but couldn't find a way out of it now.

  "Do you know who lives next door to you?" I asked, tipping my head towards the apartment in question.

  The apartment glowered back at me. I ignored it.

  "Next door?" he repeated. He took a minute to reorient himself after my drastic change of topic, then sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "I can't recall their name, actually. They bought their unit when the building was still under construction, but by the time I moved in they were no longer using it. I reckon they still own it, but they're never here. One of those ridiculously wealthy families that just collect property all over the world, I suppose."

  "So the apartment itself is empty?" I asked. "No one is subletting it or anything?"

  "No, no subletting in this building," he said with a frown. "I haven't the foggiest idea what it looks like in there. Sad, really. It has one of the nicer views, or so the building manager tells me."

  Nick rejoined us with the coffee and cupcakes on a tray, and the conversation turned to me and my back story.

  Once you take the magic out, my back story is really very sparse. It didn't even last so long as the coffee.

  "I should get going," I said.

  "So soon?" Nick's grandfather said sadly.

  "Please excuse me, I'm really not feeling myself tonight," I said. "I had the strangest of headaches before. It's gone now, but I feel a bit out of sorts."

  "You'll have to come back on another night when you're feeling more up to it," he said as if this were a statement of fact and not an invitation. "It's generally just Nick and me with old Finnegan here. Your company brings a light to this gloomy place."

  He was being kind. Distracted as I was, I doubted I had contributed anything much to the little party. But I smiled and thanked him.

  "Let me grab my coat, and I'll walk you back," Nick said.

  "Oh no," I said, far too quickly. He looked struck, then confused.

  Wait, had he thought this was a date as well? Did he think walking me back to the house was part of the night?

  Oh, how I wanted him to walk me back. To linger on the porch. No, scratch that, to linger in the foyer. The wind outside was really too much.

  But I wanted something even more than that, sadly. I wanted to snoop around that apartment. And I couldn't do that with Nick with me. He really didn't like it when I bent or broke the law.

  "No, it's all right," I said. "It's my head. I think I need a bit of a walk to clear it. A walk alone. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be," Nick said. We stopped at the apartment door, and he looked at me, hand on the doorknob without opening it. "You're sure you're okay?"

  "I'll feel better after a walk and a good night's sleep," I said.

  "Okay," he said with palpable reluctance. "Text me when you get home. And text me in the morning to let me know how you're feeling."

  "I will," I promised.

  It took him a moment, but eventually, he stopped looking at me and opened the door.

  "Good night," I said.

  "Good night, Amanda," he said.

  I was afraid he was going to watch me walk all of the way down the hall, and I would have to wait for the door to close before sneaking back. Then I was afraid he was watching me not out of politeness but to be sure that I didn't do exactly what I was about to do. Did he know me so well?

  Whether he did or didn't, in the end, Finnegan finally saw the door standing open and made another dash for it. Nick caught him just in time, the door swinging shut as he cajoled the dog.

  I waited a moment to be sure he wasn't going to open the door again, but nothing disturbed the heavy silence of the hallway. Nothing but the wind gusting against the glass around the stairwell.

  I turned my attention to the door of the empty apartment. What clue could I possibly hope to find?

  But any clue at all was better than no clue.

  Chapter 3

  I stood in front of the heavy fireproof door, looking up at the brass numbers and the tiny dot that was the peephole. It seemed to be towering over me, like the massive gates into the forbidden castle in a fantasy story.

  It was just a door and a door of ordinary dimensions at that. But with no way for me to get past it, I guess it was for all intents and purposes an impregnable gate.

  I did entertain the notion of breaking in. Only I had no idea how to do that. Lockpicking wasn't an elective when I was in high school. Brianna might know a spell to make locks open, but I didn't.

  But there was one thing I could do.

  I reached out my hands to press my palms to the door, hesitating just before they made contact. What if I had that sudden rush of head pain again? What if it was worse this time?

  I bit down on my lip and pushed that thought aside. If it came back, I'd deal with it. That was all.

  I pressed my hands to the door. The steel was numbingly cold under my hands, but I didn't draw back. Instead, I leaned forward until my forehead too was pressed to the cold metal.

  Then I closed my eyes and forced my breathing into a slow, even rhythm.

  The only times I had shifted my perception into the world of interconnecting energy had been under great duress, and I had done it largely instinctually. Now, while I stood in more or less complete safety, I wasn't sure how to move myself over.

  But I remember how it had felt, and how it had looked. I concentrated on that while maintaining my breathing.

  It took a long time, but finally I felt a little different, a little removed from my body. I opened my eyes and saw the webs of energy all around me.

  I had done it! I was getting better at this magic thing after all!

  I forced myself to stay on task and focused again on the door I was touching. I examined every energy thread, every node that made up the door. But I could see nothing unusual. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary about the door or up or down the hallway.

  I shifted my perception, passing my awareness through the door into the apartment beyond. Still, all of the threads looked perfectly ordinary. I didn't have more than a vague sense of what I was looking at, how it correlated to the real world, but I decided that all I was seeing was the patterns created by bare walls and empty floors. No living things here.

  Not only was the apartment unoccupied, it was completely empty.

  Wait, not completely. I sensed something a little deeper in, an object that was as tall as I was but rectangular in shape.

  This wasn't exactly ordinary. The threads shone differently. Brighter.

  I examined it thread by thread. It didn't seem to be aware of my presence, and it didn't radiate menace as the crystal ball had the last time I was in the web world.

  So, not evil, but definitely not ordinary. Did that make it a magical object or not? I supposed there might be ways to be out of the ordinary without being magical. But I didn't know how specifically, or what it might mean. I just didn't have enough experience in correlating the web world to the real world.

  I fell back into my body with a rush, staggering back from the door. My ears were throbbing, and my chest had a tingling feeling to it, and I was sucking in deep lungfuls of air as if I had gone
without for far too long.

  As the lightheadedness passed, I realized that was probably exactly what had happened. I hadn't been aware enough of my own body to keep it breathing, or to sense that it wasn't while I was poking around the webs inside the apartment.

  Would I have been forced back into my body when I fainted from lack of oxygen?

  Or, what if I didn't? What if I died while my consciousness was exploring the world of webs? Would I become a ghost, doomed to haunt the other world forever?

  Or would I just wink out of existence?

  I pulled myself together, wrapping my scarf around my head as I headed down the stairs and out the door.

  In the future, it would be a good idea to have a spotter while I tried such things. At least until I understood it all better.

  It felt like a lifetime had passed since I had left the house, but it was still early evening yet when I blew in with the wind and wrestled that heavy door shut. I threw aside my coat and scarf and went straight up to the library to find Brianna.

  She was, as always, at the table that was the very heart of the library amid a towering sprawl of books and countless abandoned cups of tea. It looked like I had caught her at the perfect moment, as she was not currently engrossed in either reading from one of the massive tomes or writing away inside her own journal. She was on her feet, moving around the periphery of the table looking at each of the books as if hunting for something.

  "Can I help?" I asked.

  "No, I've got it. "She didn't look up at me, just continued her search. She dug one book out from the middle of a stack and paged through it excitedly. Then her face fell, and she set it back down and resumed her search.

  "Well, if you have a moment, I could use some help," I said.

  "Really don't," she said.

  "It's just, something weird just happened. I think I had some kind of episode? I don't know what it was," I said.

  Brianna made a little murmuring sound that could mean anything or nothing at all. She pulled out another book and examined the cover closely, running her fingers over the embossed type.

  "I don't know what just happened to me," I went on. "I thought maybe something was attacking me, but I don't sense any danger."