Chapter 18
“Opal?” Sam asked as he climbed out of the car. Paladino did the same, hand on the gun beneath his jacket, eyes sweeping the area in case of an ambush. “What are you doing here?”
“Sammy—finally. I was starting to think I’d be sitting here for the rest of the night.” She rose to her feet as he approached, and he finally got a good look at her.
Opal had never been fashionable—the idea was practically sinful—but she’d always been neat. Now her hair was falling out of a haphazard bun, her gingham dress creased from travel, and her shoes long past needing a shine.
She took a step forward, and Paladino asked, “Everything okay here, Mr. Cunningham?”
“Yes,” he said automatically, though in truth it was far from it. “You can go.”
“I’ll wait until you’re inside with the door locked, if it’s all the same to you, boss.”
Opal craned her head to see past Sam, frowning as she did so. “Who’s that?”
“A colleague from work.” He needed to get her inside, before she started asking too many questions. “Just let me get the door open.”
He unlocked the door and undid the alarm hexes, glad Alistair wasn’t home yet. Though it would be nice to have him here, the odds of Alistair starting an argument with his sister were better than even, and Sam wasn’t in the mood to mediate between them.
Opal went inside ahead of him, leaving her suitcase for him to carry. “I’m starving—I’ve been sitting out there in the cold for hours.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make dinner.” He put the suitcase down and relocked the door. A part of him was panicking—Opal couldn’t stay here, she’d be in danger. If she died because of him…
God, he’d already gotten Jake and Mom killed. He couldn’t live with more blood on his hands.
The rest of him fell into old habits. “I’ll make some hot cocoa to warm you up, then get dinner started.”
She gazed around the small house with an air of disapproval. “Where am I staying? I need to freshen up.”
He wanted to put her on the sleeping porch, but it was too cold for that. “You can take our bed—I’ll change the sheets real quick.” Alistair wouldn’t be happy, but Sam could hardly put her out on the street.
Opal seemed annoyed, but it wasn’t as though he’d known she was coming. Hopefully he could get her back on the train to Gatesville tomorrow. She couldn’t stay in Chicago; it wasn’t safe.
He changed the sheets as fast as he could, then made her cocoa while she was washing up in the bathroom.
While she settled at the table, he hurriedly cooked a simple meal of skirt steak and vegetables, the sort of thing they might have had back in Gatesville, and served it with two bottles of ginger ale.
“You don’t know how nice it is to eat a meal I didn’t have to cook,” she said. “Even if the steak is a little dry.”
Had she forgotten he cooked almost every night when he’d lived at home?
He didn’t bring it up, instead inquiring about her train ride.
She expressed her disdain of the other passengers, who were either the dregs of society or putting on airs, depending on whether she thought they dressed the way she did.
When he thought he’d given her enough time to get around to the reason for her visit, he said, “Why are you here, Opal? And where’s Ed?”
She poked a carrot with her fork. “He’s back home with Dad. They don’t know I’m here.”
That wasn’t the Opal he knew. But she’d sounded unhappy in her letter; maybe she’d decided to leave the way he had. “Did you run away?”
“Of course not, don’t be stupid. They think I’m in Naperville, visiting Dolly.”
Dolly was a childhood friend of Opal’s, who moved away a few years back, after she was married. “Again, why are you here?”
“You don’t know how it’s been, Sammy.” She blinked rapidly, as if about to cry. “After you left…it was like everyone lost all their patience. I had to pitch in more to make up for you being gone, but I’m no good at cleaning or cooking, you were always better at that sort of thing.”
Considering she’d just told him his steak was too dry, he wasn’t at all sure about that. “Didn’t you get my check? I thought you could hire some help.”
“And let the neighbors think I can’t keep my own house?” She stared at him, scandalized.
Why had he thought anything he gave her, even money, could make her happy? “What about Aunt Flora? Can’t she help out?” He didn’t bother to suggest Uncle Gabe, Dad, or Ed lend a hand; they’d be offended at the very thought.
“You’d think so.” The corners of Opal’s mouth tightened. “But no, all she does is criticize me. Mom did, too, but at least she was working at the pharmacy. But then she died, thanks to you, and Flora and Gabe moved in, and I thought they were going to help out, they said they would…”
To his horror, she burst into tears. Should he offer her a hug? But his family wasn’t the hugging sort, so he only sat awkwardly in his chair. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes!” She wiped her eyes. “Come home! Don’t you remember how things were before you left? We were all so happy.”
He didn’t remember anyone ever being happy in their home…but maybe he was wrong? Maybe he’d misunderstood something.
Either way, he’d been miserable. “Opal…maybe I can visit for a while, not now, but sometime. But I can’t come back.”
“You have to!” She clutched her napkin, as if she meant to tear the cloth in half. “You owe it to me, to us! You let Jake die, and Mom die, both of them! This is all your fault.”
“Like hell it is,” Alistair said from the doorway.
* * *
Alistair’s fingernails dug into his palms, and he ground his teeth as he shut the door behind him.
He’d expected to come home to find Sam either relaxing or already in bed.
Instead here was his damn sister sitting there with crocodile tears coming out of her eyes while she poured poison in Sam’s ear.
He stalked into the kitchen and to the table, grimly pleased when she shrank back in her chair. “Sammy,” she squeaked, “tell him to go away. This is family business.”
“Sam is my family.” He stopped behind Sam’s chair and put his hands on his shoulders. Sam’s muscles were tense as wires beneath his touch. “He’s my witch, and I’m his familiar. Anything you say to him, you can say to me.”
She blanched—Sam hadn’t told her. Alistair didn’t mind; the Cunninghams could think whatever they wanted so long as they did it back in Gatesville.
But she’d come here to his town, into his house. If she saw or heard something she didn’t like, then she’d brought it on herself.
“It’s okay,” Sam said, sounding so down Alistair wanted to throw Opal out the door and down the stairs himself. “I’ll fix everything, okay? I will. But you need to go home—without me.”
She shook her head. “They think I’m staying with Dolly for a week. I can’t leave yet.”
Alistair bristled. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t staying here.” He’d strangle her after a day.
“Just for tonight,” Sam put in hurriedly. Appeasing her. “Tomorrow, I’ll find you a hotel, or you can find one you like, either way I’ll pay for it. But it’s not safe for you here.”
Her eyes went to Alistair, and he wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or take on cheetah form and chase her off down the street.
“Not because of Alistair.” That brought the steel into Sam’s voice. Alistair appreciated it, but he wished Sam would save a little for himself. “The business I’m in isn’t, um…”
“I don’t want to know.” Disapproval dripped from Opal’s voice. “Just one more reason for you to come back, then.”
“Even if I could, Dad wouldn’t let me in the house.” Sam put both hands flat on the table. “I’m going to fix things, though. I swear.”
She eyed him uncertainly. “How?”
“Just trust me. Please.”
Opal snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She rose to her feet. “I’m exhausted from traveling. I’ll accept your offer of a hotel room, but don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.”
As soon as the bedroom door shut behind her, Sam sagged in his chair. Alistair immediately wrapped his arms around his shoulders, even though the back of the chair made the embrace awkward. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured into Sam’s hair. “I wish I’d been here when she showed up.”
“I know.”
“So what did she want? Why is she so determined to drag you back now?”
“She’s having trouble with our aunt and uncle. Eldon’s parents.”
The parents Eldon had run away from, then never spoken to again before his untimely death. “Tell me.”
Sam did, though Alistair suspected his scant few sentences weren’t the whole story. Even so, it was enough to make him seethe.
“So they’re treating her the way they used to treat you, and she doesn’t like it,” he said. “And instead of calling them out, or having the guts to walk away herself, she wants you to come back and be their whipping boy instead.”
“It’s not like that,” Sam protested.
“Then what is it like?”
Sam didn’t have an answer. Alistair sighed and straightened. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get comfortable on the couch and see if we can get some sleep.”
* * *
Sam waited until Alistair was asleep before slipping off the couch and letting himself out onto the sleeping porch.
He’d forgotten to get their pajamas out of the bedroom before Opal went to bed, so they’d ended up sleeping in their clothes.
His sweater gave him some protection from the October chill; though the sleeping porch’s windows were shut, there was no heat in the little area.
No bed, either; they’d dragged the original one inside to replace the bed Eldon was murdered in.
He wandered to one of the many windows and looked out into darkness.
They were in a patch of small homes rapidly being overtaken by tall apartment buildings, but the neighborhood was still a quiet one for the most part.
No lights showed from the other houses, so there was only the dimmest glow from the streetlights out front.
At least Opal had agreed to stay in a hotel.
He’d advise her to look outside of Towertown, play up its reputation as a den of iniquity if he had to.
Give her some spending money if she wanted to shop, though what excuse she’d use if she returned to Gatesville with a fur coat to match Aunt Flora’s, he didn’t know.
Nothing mattered, so long as she got out of Chicago safe and sound.
Because he could fix things now.
The realization had crashed down on him just as Alistair let himself in, and it had been everything he could do to keep it off his face.
Then, as they arranged the couch in an attempt to make it a comfortable place for two people to sleep, Alistair told him Sullivan was calling in his chips. The Gattis would have to work directly for him now, standing guard at the hexworks.
He was the one who’d dragged them into this by getting involved with Sullivan. But now he had a way to get them out.
Jake’s death had been his original sin. Opal didn’t know it, but he’d compounded that sin a hundred times over when he refused to use the panacea hex to save Mom.
But now, if the hex on the Aten Disc worked the way Doc thought…
He could undo his worst mistakes. Bring back not only Mom, but Jake as well. Restore his family to wholeness. Make them happy at last.
He couldn’t tell Alistair about the hex. Even if he could have, he wouldn’t, because from what Doc said it would take a lot of familiars to power it.
He couldn’t command that much magic. But he knew someone who could. Someone who would probably agree to anything to resurrect his own dead.
It was time to go to Sullivan and make a deal.