Spellbinder

  “Don’t you want to win?” Kylie asked. Both her friends sat up, looking down at her.

  “I didn’t think I did, but now … Yes, I want to win.” She admitted something, not only to them, but to herself. “I want to win so bad I can taste it. I never wanted to say it, because I didn’t think it was possible. But now…”

  “What?” Della asked.

  “The Perry thing and now this whole Tabitha thing, both of them hurt, and it’s stealing away my joy.”

  “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” Kylie said. “Tabitha could be wrong about things. You won’t know until you talk with your parents.”

  “Yeah,” Miranda said, but in her heart she knew it was true. She just didn’t know how she was ever going to forgive her parents for all the lies.

  She closed her eyes and then opened them and glanced from Kylie to Della. “I love you. You two are like sisters I never … Damn!” She hit her fists on the mattress.

  “What?” Kylie asked.

  “Tabitha’s my sister. My sister is sleeping in the next room over.”

  Della stared at her and her brows tightened. “You … you knew that already.” Della glanced at Kylie. “Is she losing it?”

  “No, I’m not losing it,” Miranda snapped in a sleepy voice. “It just hadn’t sunk in all the way. I mean, all my life I begged my mom and dad to make me a sister. Sometimes I felt all alone and I didn’t even have to be alone, because I already had a sister.” Miranda paused. “And she hates me.”

  “If it makes you feel better, sometimes my sister hates me.” Della butt-scooted farther down on the mattress. Her shoulder met Miranda’s.

  “I guess.” Miranda let her eyes close and waited for sleep. The last thought whispering across her worried mind was the kiss. The soft and painful kiss she’d gotten from Perry. And then another kiss entered her brain, the kiss she’d gotten years ago at a masquerade party.

  “I’m so messed up, guys.”

  * * *

  Voices. Miranda heard them and pulled the pillow over her head. Sunshine still snuck in the tiny slits of her closed eyes. Her mind raced to orient her. She wasn’t at her cabin.

  She remembered.

  Paris.

  Perry.

  Rogue vampires.

  Lying parents.

  A sister.

  A practice competition.

  Ugh. She buried her head deeper into the pillow.

  She heard the bedroom door swish open.

  “Miranda?”

  She expected to hear Kylie or Della urging her to wake up. The last person’s voice she expected to hear was …

  She tossed the pillow off her head and sat up. Her gaze met his blue eyes, and emotion tightened her gut. She hadn’t been ready to speak to him on the phone last night, she certainly didn’t feel up to a face-to-face with him.

  But it looked as if she didn’t have a choice.

  “Daddy?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miranda’s chest filled with pain. She had to swallow, twice, to keep the tears from climbing up her throat.

  “What … are you doing here?” She looked up at him, seeing him differently for the first time. Seeing him as someone else’s dad. It hit then. Tabitha had gotten more from her father than she had. Her half-sister inherited his red hair. And his blue eyes. While Miranda was stuck with hazel eyes and blond hair with only red highlights.

  “I thought you didn’t do competitions?” The words came out with sarcasm and a ton of hurt. He was her daddy. She didn’t want to share him, but she had been … sharing him. She just hadn’t known it.

  He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. He always did that when he was nervous. But about what? Then she quickly became aware of his gaze shifting to her and then back to the wall.

  He knew.

  He knew she knew.

  Had Tabitha told him?

  “I know this is hard.” His words were tight, and filled with what sounded like regret. A little too late for that, wasn’t it?

  She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. What kind of explanation could he offer? She couldn’t think of one that made this acceptable. And yet he was here to try. Didn’t that mean something?

  It might, but emotionally right now she couldn’t feel any reprieve. Lies. Everything she’d thought about her family had been a lie.

  “You mother called me,” he said. “Then Tabitha called.”

  That achiness in her chest exploded and flowed into all her limbs. Tears filled her eyes.

  “So it’s all true?” she asked.

  His hand swiped down his face, almost as if buying a few seconds to think. For a few minutes, he didn’t have to look at her.

  Did he consider her a mistake?

  “I don’t know what all you know, but…” He paused and seemed to notice the tears streaming down her face. “Don’t cry. It kills me to see you cry.”

  “Is it true?” she demanded and when he didn’t immediately answer, she spelled out what she meant. “Is Tabitha my sister?”

  “Yes.” He looked back at the wall.

  She blinked and more hot tears rolled down her cheek. “Are you married to her mom, and not to my mom?”

  He glanced back at her. His gaze, his posture, everything about him looked heavy as if the guilt weighed him down. But she wouldn’t let herself feel sorry for him.

  “Yes,” he said. “But … it’s not like it sounds.”

  She ignored his remark and tossed out another question. “Did my mom know? Did she know you were married when you met her?”

  She didn’t know why she needed that answer, but she did. Perhaps, she needed to know how much to blame her mom for this. If she had known, then …

  “Miranda, I know this sounds terrible, but—”

  “Did you lie to my mom?” She spit the question out again.

  He inhaled. “Yes, in the beginning I lied to her. But it’s not like you think.”

  “What’s not like I think, Daddy? I don’t even know your real name. How could you do this to me? To us? Mom and me?”

  He hung his head and didn’t move. Finally, he looked up. “Divorce was almost impossible to get in Ireland, Miranda. Mary Esther and I had separated. I was considering fighting to get the divorce, but … Her grandfather turned my uncle against me. My uncle was in charge of my trust fund.”

  He shuffled his feet. “Back then, I was nothing more than a spoiled rich kid. I’d lived off my family’s money. If I had pursued a divorce, all of my inheritance would have been lost to me. In the beginning I was willing to sacrifice it, but then I learned Mary Ester was pregnant. While I might have been spoiled, I did not want to turn my back on my child. While I loved your mother with all my heart, I was actually planning on walking away from her, because I felt she deserved better. The day I was going to break up with her, your mother announced her own news. She was pregnant with you. Then I was nothing more than a stupid kid, with two children to support. I couldn’t reject what was my only source of income, which was my trust fund. I told your mom the truth. It took a while, but she forgave me for lying and accepted what I could offer.”

  “So you just lived with both wives? How gross and sick is that? I seriously think I’m going to throw up.”

  Shock widened his eyes. “I do not live with Mary Esther as her husband. Yes, I have a place next door to her. For the most part, I support her, and Tabitha. I am as big a part of Tabitha’s life as I am yours. And I know your mom hates that, but I can no more turn my back on Tabitha than I could you. Mary Esther was a mistake, but Tabitha is still my child.”

  And what am I? The question sat on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t ask it. A bastard child?

  “I love your mother, Miranda. I know this life has not been easy for her, and I regret that. While there is no legal paper calling her my wife, she is the love of my life. Together we made you. We are a family. I love you. We love you.”

  “Then why the lies? Why not tell me? Why not give me
your real name?”

  “In the beginning it was to protect my trust fund, if my uncle had found out I wasn’t … living as Mary Esther’s husband, he would have happily cut me off. Then when he died four years ago, I actually wanted to come clean, to have you two girls meet and get to know each other. But your mother and Mary Esther had too many grudges. It became easier to live the lie than to come clean. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Miranda swiped the tears from her face. “Well, you failed. Failed miserably. This, the lies, the secrets, it hurts.”

  “I can see that, and don’t for one minute think it isn’t killing me. I want to fix it. That’s what I’m here to do. You both are such neat people. I’m so proud of both of you. This afternoon after the practice, we are all getting together. I know it’s hard and I regret not doing it earlier, but I want you and Tabitha to get along, to love each other.”

  “She hates me.” Then Miranda realized something else. “Did she know this whole time? Did you tell Tabitha and not me?”

  “No. A few years ago, she overheard her mother and me arguing. She figured it out. Like you, she’s pretty disappointed in me. You two are my world. My reason for living. I want to fix this.”

  She looked at the man whom she’d loved all her life. Her first hero, the man who called her “angel.” The patient father who’d taught her to ride a bike, to tie her shoelaces. He’d even taught her her first spell. Every pore and cell in her body loved this man, and yet it hurt so badly she wished she didn’t.

  Wished she didn’t love him this much.

  She swallowed and lifted her chin. Without trying to hide her hurt, she told him what she’d told Perry.

  “I’m not completely certain you can fix this.” And damn, it hurt to say that.

  * * *

  “Do you feel anything?” Burnett asked Miranda as he walked into her dressing room a few minutes before practice. The competition and practice were being held in an old auditorium that had once been a library—complete with gargoyles. Like everything here in Paris it felt old. It was old. Kind of gave her the creeps.

  “Miranda?” Burnett said her name.

  Oh, yeah … Did she feel anything? Hell yeah. Emotions did jumping jacks in her gut. After her dad had left, Kylie and Della had come and let her cry on their shoulders. If not for them, she was pretty sure she’d still be facedown in her bed wallowing in self-pity. As it was, her eyes were puffy from crying. She dreaded the meeting that was going to take place after the practice. Dreaded it with a passion. And part of that dread was facing her mom. She didn’t know why, but she knew it was going to hurt.

  Perhaps her mom felt the same thing. It would explain why she hadn’t already visited Miranda.

  “Do you feel anything?” he repeated, as if impatient that she hadn’t instantly replied.

  The answer echoed back. She felt as if her heart had been used as a pit bull’s play toy. Then someone had found the damaged organ and stuck it back in her chest, but it wasn’t working.

  Not that Burnett wanted to know this. He was concerned about whoever it was trying to knock off the competition. He wanted to know if she felt any doom and gloom premonitions.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Do you have your cell with you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Good. Take it with you. If you feel anything, anything at all, call me, right then. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of practice and have to piss off one of those prima donna highfalutin witches out there. You call me. Got it?”

  Miranda couldn’t help but wonder if he’d told Tabitha the same thing. Probably. Thankfully, Tabitha had already left the apartment when her dad … correction … their dad … had shown up. Facing her was going to be as hard as facing her mom. Hadn’t she called Tabitha a liar last night?

  Burnett started to walk out and then turned. She looked up at him. His scowl faded. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  He swung back to the door, but darted back around with vampire speed. “I have a feeling if Holiday were here, she’d give you a comforting hug. She’d probably be able to know exactly why you look so sad. Maybe you’d even confide in her. I’m not nearly as good at the counseling sh—stuff as she is. As a matter of fact, I kind of suck at it. But if you need to talk, I can listen. I have a few minutes now.”

  As tempting as it was, she was afraid if she talked she’d start crying again. She shook her head.

  He looked almost relieved, and turned around.

  A small hiccup of emotion left her throat. He looked back again. His expression was uncertain and almost painful. “You need a hug?”

  She ran into his arms like a scared child. Hugging wasn’t Burnett’s favorite pastime, and the fact that he’d offered meant the world. As tough and hard as this man could be, he cared. Cared deeply. Holiday and his daughter, Hannah, were two very lucky ladies.

  He patted Miranda on the back. The slow tapping of his right hand felt awkward. His posture tense. Sensing he was uncomfortable, she pulled back.

  He studied her. “Did that help?”

  “Yes.” She smiled with emotion.

  He nodded. “Is this about Perry and—?”

  “No.”

  He tilted his head to the side and frowned as if he’d heard the lie.

  “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s only part of it.” But since he’d brought the subject up, she asked. “Is Perry here?” He had told Miranda he was coming, but less than a month ago he’d told her he would never walk away. And he had.

  Her ability to trust him had been damaged. Maybe the shape-shifter had changed his mind again.

  “Yes, he’s here. I don’t think I could have kept him away.”

  She nodded and Burnett raised his brows. For some reason she suspected he was recalling Shawn’s half-assed confession of being interested in her.

  Burnett continued to stare. “Is this … the tears, somehow about your dad’s visit this morning?”

  She nodded.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  “You did.”

  “I did?” he asked, confused.

  “The hug,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  “Oh.” Then suspicion tightened his brow. “But this … problem isn’t anything I need to know about, is it?”

  “It’s not about the murders,” she assured him, sensing that was what Burnett meant.

  “Okay,” he said, hearing her truth. “But like I said, if you want to talk, I suck at giving advice about personal issues, but I’ll be happy to listen.”

  “Thank you,” she said and couldn’t stop herself. She hugged him again.

  As she released him, he moved toward the door, but sent back one parting comment. “Remember, any sense of danger, even if it’s tiny, contact me immediately.”

  * * *

  Miranda stood in the circle of twenty competitors—constantly aware of Tabitha standing four girls down on Miranda’s right. She didn’t look at her. But every few minutes, Miranda could feel the girl’s gaze on her.

  Did her half-sister really hate her? For one crazy moment, Miranda tried to see this from Tabitha’s point of view. It would be easy for Tabitha to blame Miranda and her mom for destroying her cozy little family. If not for the conception of Miranda, perhaps her mother and father would have made the marriage work.

  Damn, if Miranda couldn’t see how it would be easy for Tabitha to hate her. And her mom. Who wanted to share your father with an offspring of “the other woman”?

  Trying to concentrate on the council’s words, she stood frozen in one spot. She felt several other gazes zeroing in on her from the audience. Scanning the spectators, she found the onlookers. Her mom sat in the first row. Alone. The seat beside her … empty. Where was her dad? Rumor was there had been an accident on one of the major streets and it had delayed several of the attendees.

  Miranda noted the worry and fret tightening her mom’s expression. Was her mom dreading the meeting after the practic
e?

  Join the crowd, Mom!

  In the back of the audience, she spotted a blond shape-shifter. He watched her with the intense stare of a bodyguard. His protectiveness would have been appreciated if he hadn’t dropped her like a hot potato and let her fry in misery. And she didn’t care why he’d broken up with her, it still had been so wrong!

  In the opposite corner of the room stood Shawn. He smiled. The slight nod of his head seemed to say he had her back. Her gaze eased back to Perry and she saw him glaring at Shawn. Okay, that felt awkward.

  She focused on the high priestess speaking. She appeared French, her accent made her sound almost lyrical, but her pronunciation was spot-on.

  The practice consisted of how the competition would go down. They weren’t told what the spells would be, but there were hints that they would return to one of the four elements. Miranda sent up a prayer that it wouldn’t be fire. Especially with her father here. His scars on his buttocks would no doubt itch if she started playing with fire again.

  The memory of his teasing throughout the years scraped across her mind, and somehow it seemed tainted. Or at least different now that she knew his secrets. Tears stung her eyes and she wondered if all her memories would feel like a lie.

  The sound of the heavy auditorium doors opening echoed in the large space. A crowd of around fourteen came bustling in. Miranda spotted her dad and Mary Esther, Tabitha’s mom, walking beside him. They almost got to her mother’s row.

  Her mom looked back and scowled. Oh friggin’ great! Were Mary Esther and her mom about to cause a scene?

  Dread and embarrassment ran through her. No one wanted their dirty laundry played out in front of a crowd. Her feet itched to hightail it out of there, but then the strong sense of danger chased away all thoughts of being humiliated.

  She heard Burnett’s order: If you feel anything, anything at all, call me. She reached in her pocket to pull out her phone and spotted Tabitha doing the same thing. Both with cell phones in hand, their gazes clashed.

  Obviously, Burnett had given Tabitha the same orders. She felt exactly what Miranda did.

  Some bad shit was about to go down.

  Fog, thick as mud, fell from the auditorium’s rafters. And nothing but screams followed.