Almost To Die For Part 3

Luke, I am your father.

I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "You've got to be kidding me."

Mom's voice was closer now. "Ana? Who is that?"

Ignoring Mom for the moment, I continued to stare at the stranger in wonderment. "Go with you? Dude, I don't even know you," I said.

"A great tragedy," Ramses agreed. He put his hand to his heart and bowed his head slightly. "And, believe me, not of my choosing. But I have been with you from the beginning, my child. I am your kin."

Mom came into the hallway, saw the man, and shrieked, "Back to h.e.l.l with you, demon!"

Ramses straightened himself up as best he could, given that he was dripping blood onto the hall carpeting, and said, "Amelia, you have denied our child her birthright. This violates the treaty. Anastasija should know the truth."

Yeah, this whole encounter was deeply confusing. A little explanation would go a long way. I was about to tell Mom so when I felt the atmosphere shift. Magic was afoot. "Wait, Mom," I started, but Mom interrupted.

"North, south, east, west, spiderweb shall bind him best--," Mom began intoning. I could feel power begin to swirl. The magazines and mail piled on the front-hall table began to flutter expectantly. The porch light flashed on a fluff of dust--a spider's web?--spinning through the air.

Now, why couldn't I do stuff like that?

Ramses took a step into the house, but raised his hands as though in surrender. His eyes nervously followed the speck of fluff as it began to encircle him, a thin, white thread unraveling and growing impossibly long with each turn.

"Now, no need for any of this," he said. "Let me take the girl with me."

"Take her? Never! You have no right to lay any claim now, not after all this time." Mom broke from the spell to glare at him. The spiderweb net wobbled momentarily, as though the wind might abandon it.

"But I do, and you know it." Ramses' tone was strong, clear, and just a little fierce. "The time has come. The princess must return to her kingdom."

He didn't really just say that, did he? Was the guy insane? I felt a little faint.

Mom, however, seemed to be taking it seriously. She raised her hands, palms out. "East, west, north, south," she continued. "Hold his limbs and shut his mouth."

Wait, was Mom really casting a rhyming spell? Did those really work? I always thought that was another one of those in-jokes among witches to fool the uninitiated. Maybe I really had hexed Thompson with the rhyme about s.e.x.

A sudden burst of wind rushed through the hall. The mail rushed out into the street, and my hair flapped wildly. The spiderweb whirled furiously, spitting out thread as it circled him faster and faster. Ramses batted at it as it tightened around his arms and legs. The more he swatted, the more entangled he became. His eyes searched me out with an imploring look, asking for my aid. But what could I do? I didn't even know if I wanted to help him, and if I did, I couldn't fight Mom's magic. I had none of my own. Anyway . . . he was just a demented stranger . . . right?

Returning his attention to Mom, he said, "You disrespect both our clans with this action, Amelia. If I must, I will send my army."

I turned, hoping to buy a clue about what he was talking about from Mom, but her expression had darkened in a way I'd never seen before. It was more than a little frightening. The windows rattled, and the air tore at my hair. The roar of the wind was deafening, and though he was trying to continue to speak, I couldn't hear a word. In fact, I had to hold on to the doorframe to keep from getting swept away myself. Miraculously, Ramses stood upright against the onslaught. He was looking more and more like a silk-wrapped mummy, however.

Mom turned her anger on me suddenly. She seemed frustrated that her magical blast hadn't been more successful. "You invited him in, didn't you?"

Had I? I didn't think I had, but I couldn't remember. Either way, I got the distinct impression that had been the wrong thing to do. "Uh, I don't know. But it's not like he's a vampire or anything."

Mom grimaced, leaving me confused. I looked at Ramses again with his jet-black hair and pale skin, pushing against the ma.s.sive windstorm.

"He's not, right?"

Mom either didn't hear or chose not to answer.

A vampire?

That was fiction, wasn't it?

And if it wasn't, was I supposed to take his other claim seriously too? So I was some kind of vampire princess?

"I can't believe you invited him inside. Now I'm going to have to pull out all the stops," Mom said.

It could get worse? I'd never seen a spell this powerful, much less used as a kind of a.s.sault on another human being.

Who just might be my long-lost dad. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I mean, shouldn't I at least get to know the guy before we kicked his a.s.s?

Mom's power welled up, searing hot like lava, seething through the air. The air crackled with it.

"No, wait." My protest died in the noise of the maelstrom. Something inside me flickered. I felt it flutter and then die, like a candle guttered in the wind.

Mom shook out her wild curls and raised her hands again to continue the spell. "Seal his eyes and choke his breath, wrap him in the ropes of death."

And--pow!--just like that, Ramses flew off the doorstep and into the night. Mom, quite literally, kicked the guy to the curb. My mouth hung open. I'd never seen Mom quite so ninjawitchy.

In fact, I always figured this kind of violent spell was, you know, black magic, the stuff good witches stayed away from.

Meanwhile, Ramses lay crumpled there on the neighbor's boulevard, not moving, completely coc.o.o.ned in webbing. He looked like a giant cotton ball. Was he okay? I mean, I probably shouldn't care, but . . .

As if possessed by a mind of its own, my foot started out the door. Mom grabbed my shoulder, stopping me cold.

"But he's hurt," I protested, my eyes flicking to the mummy-white blob nervously. What if he really was my dad? I tried to shake Mom's grip, but it tightened like a vise. "He could die!"

"I should hope so." Mom's tone was icy cold. She adjusted her gla.s.ses, as though to better inspect her handiwork.

"What?" I ripped myself out from Mom's restraining hand. No way did Mom mean that! Screw her, I thought. He didn't seem all that threatening. Okay, so he wanted to take me away, but did he really deserve to be all gummed up like one of Spider-Man's villains? I was going to help him.

Mom reached around me and slammed the door shut with an ominous bang.

"You have done enough damage, young lady."

"But I didn't invite him in, I swear," I said, fairly sure it was the truth.

"You must have."

I frowned because Mom seemed so sure I had, and I was more and more convinced I hadn't. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that Ramses was okay out there.

I tried the door, but I knew it was useless. I'd already felt Mom use her magic to turn the lock. "Why won't you let me help him?"

"Because it's not safe," Mom said simply, firmly. I opened my mouth to protest, but Mom cut me off. "He's . . . really hard to damage. You're going to have to trust me on this one."

Trust her? Ms. Never-says-a-word? Oh, there was so much that I could say about that, but I hardly knew where to start, and given Mom's mood, I was a little bit afraid of ending up coc.o.o.ned myself. Yet, despite my better judgment, everything just bubbled over. "What just happened? He said he was my father and all sorts of crazy stuff, like I'm some kind of princess. Was he for real?"

"I still can't believe you let him in over the threshold. Now we have to up the wards," Mom continued, completely ignoring my questions. She put her palms flat on the wood of the door.

"Wards? Seriously?" Did Mom really mean what she seemed to be implying? Did an invitation really matter?

"You broke it. Help me fix it." Mom waited expectantly at the door until I joined her in the same position.

Mom closed her eyes, and I tried to conjure my stillness. But it was much harder than usual, with all the questions running through my head. I mean, WTF? If Ramses wasn't my dad, Mom wasn't doing a great job at denying it. In fact, standing here upping the wards like he was some kind of threat . . . well, that just made this whole crazy event that much more plausible.

I sneaked a peek at Mom. Her eyes were closed the way they often were when she concentrated on magic, but I could see tension creasing the corners of her mouth.

Mom's magic flowed out into the door. It quickly surrounded the entire house in a kind of protective bubble. Jealously, I sensed the texture and strength of Mom's magic. Instead of wind, this energy felt more solid, like earth. I could smell something, like loam or moss, ancient and intense. Mom whispered something in Latin, a language she saved for only the most powerful spells.

She shook herself out and straightened her shirt. "Well done." She patted me on the shoulder, like I'd been of some help. "Well, we should probably finish dinner before it gets cold."

Dinner? Who could think of food right now? I looked at Mom like she was insane. Totally casually, like nothing had happened, she headed back to the kitchen.

I stood at the door, stunned into inaction. Two seconds later, my mouth started up. "Was that really my dad? And did you seriously just wrap him in a spiderweb and leave him on the curb like the recycling?"

The clank of dishes.

Finally, Mom replied, "I don't want to talk about it."

No surprise there.

Cautiously, I moved aside the heavy lace curtain that covered the window nearest the door. Though it was still dark, an old-fashioned streetlamp illuminated the neighbor's boulevard. Shreds of white fluff were scattered on the neatly manicured lawn. There was no sign of . . . I wasn't sure what to call him anymore. It was beginning to seem like he was more than just some stranger who'd happened to show up on my birthday. But it wasn't as if I knew him enough, really, to call him Dad. I settled on Ramses. It was the name we shared, after all.

Still. Seeing the shreds of cottony fluff sent relief sighing through my nerves. Maybe he was okay after all. Then I tensed again as I wondered, what of the people he'd said attacked him? Could they have carried him away?

"Who do you think is after Dad?" I decided I'd call Ramses Dad when talking to Mom. It was sure to annoy her. "And what did he mean when he said I shouldn't go to the Initiation? Do you think someone will try to sabotage it or something?"

There was a long silence from the kitchen, and I dared to hope Mom was actually considering an answer instead of more evasion. But all she said was, "Your curry is getting cold."

"Yeah, and this avoidance is getting really old," I shot back, gearing up for a fight.

The foyer was dark, and the light from the kitchen glowed brightly. At first, I wondered if Mom had heard me, but then I detected the soft sounds of sobbing.

Mom crying? The fight in me instantly deflated at the sound. Mom never cried. Surely this was one of the seven signs of the apocalypse. I rushed into the kitchen.

Mom sat with elbows leaning heavily on the counter, her head buried in her hands. Her shoulders trembled. I reached out a tentative, awkward hand and placed it on Mom's back. I wanted to say something that would make Mom stop that pitiful sobbing, but all I had were questions that I was sure would upset her.

Mom sniffed deeply. Lifting her gla.s.ses, she scrubbed at her face to wipe off the tears. "What an awful night."

And the smell coming now from the oven could only be my cake burning. I rushed over to switch off the heat. The fire alarm started beeping. I wrenched open the door with the oven mitts.

"Oh, no," Mom sobbed, looking at the blackened heap I pulled from the oven. "Your cake."

Five.

"Surprise!" I said with a little smile, setting the mess on the burners.

"I'm so sorry," Mom said. "For everything."

That sounded awfully meaningful, so I waited for the rest. Mom sat down dejectedly on the nearby stool and said nothing more. I leaned against the counter. The room had gotten hot and stinky. I wiped my brow with the quilted cotton mitt. "We could skip the Initiation," I suggested. It was going to suck anyway. "I mean, if you're not up for it. And Dad said--"

Straightening suddenly, Mom shook herself out and stared at me fiercely like she might deny that the man at the door was, in fact, my father.

I held my breath. Maybe I'd finally get some answers.

Instead, Mom sniffed. "Don't be ridiculous. The Initiation is more critical than ever now. You should eat. You can't do magic on an empty stomach."

"Look, Mom, I can't do magic at all." I wasn't hungry anymore, but I knew better than to argue when Mom was in a mood like this. I followed her back into the dining room to sit. "I'm not sure eating is going to help."

"Don't be silly. Your teachers say you'll do fine if you apply yourself."

"I apply myself plenty," I said, wanting to talk about what had just happened, not this. I pushed the congealing curry sauce around the edges of my plate. "I work really hard, Mom. The fact is I suck."

"Don't use language like that. And stop tearing yourself down. You're just experiencing a little stage fright. It's very natural," Mom snapped. Then softening, she smiled. "It's never as bad as you think. I remember my first time performing magic in a public circle. . . ."

Shamelessly, I tuned out. Mom was making an effort to mend bridges and all that, but I'd heard this particular story more times than I could count, and honestly, it wasn't helpful right now. What I really wanted to talk about was Ramses. I glanced out the window, secretly hoping to see him skulking around. Alas, in the darkness, all I could really see was the reflection of the interior, and my own wistful expression.

Seeing myself, I thought maybe I did notice a hint of familiarity in our features. Mom tanned easily. My own face was as ghostly pale as . . . Ramses'.

Who was he? And what had he meant by "princess" ? It sounded kind of romantic, like some sort of special inheritance. Or was he being metaphoric? He couldn't really have meant to imply I was some kind of royalty, like with a castle and stuff, could he? And with an army? Was he a lunatic or . . . what?

A vampire.

Did vampires have kids? Was that even possible?

I desperately wanted to ask Mom, but I knew I'd only get stonewalled. So, for the moment, I satisfied myself with eating the curry. It was quite good. The apples had gotten a bit soggy and the sauce chilled, but the spices were delicious sweet-hot. Exactly right! In three bites, my nose started to run.

"Are you even listening? " Mom asked after I failed to laugh at some joke or other.

"Not really," I said with a little smile to soften the truth. "I was thinking about that guy. Ramses? My dad? You know, the one at the door that you blasted into next week? That I wasn't supposed to have invited in? Why was that again?"

"All our wards were negated when you invited him in. The house recognized him as 'friend,' not 'foe.'"

That wasn't the real reason. I could sense it. The wards were minor magic--everyone knew that. A "pot o' protection" didn't do much to stop anyone who really wanted to cross the threshold. Besides, no one set wards too strongly. When you did that, the mail carrier couldn't find you, your friends drove by, and the house virtually disappeared or, at best, seemed abandoned. There was no way my little invitation could matter that much, if I'd even given it, especially since the wards were so inconsequential to begin with.

"Was that my dad?"

"We should probably put the dishes in the sink and get ready. Bea will be here any minute."

I stared pointedly at Mom's smiling face, and added, "He's different than I expected. I mean, the way you never talk about him, I kind of thought maybe he'd died, you know, or something tragic like that."

"His death would hardly be tragic," Mom said as she reached for my plate to stack on her own. "And he is dead."