Fatal Charm Read online

  Woodbury, Minnesota

  Fatal Charm © 2007 by Linda Joy Singleton.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover models used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the book’s subject.

  First e-book edition © 2010

  E-book ISBN: 9780738717920

  Cover design and illustration by Lisa Novak

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  Flux

  Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

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  Manufactured in the United States of America

  To Felicia Velasquez

  for sharing her astral travels with me.

  To Cassandra Whetstone for critique advice.

  To Taylor and my cousins Courtney and Kadie.

  And to all my wonderful fans

  who asked for this book.

  Is it wrong to hate someone simply because they were born? I wondered this as I spied on the thief who had stolen more than my face.

  The gloomy gray morning suited my overcast mood. I’d gotten up early, skipping breakfast so that my empty stomach now growled at me. I hadn’t wanted to drive here, yet felt drawn to this house like a fly to sticky paper.

  I had to see the red-haired girl again. I’d never spoken to her and knew little more than her name: Jade. I’d tried tuning into her psychically, but my roller-coaster emotions were short-circuiting my sixth sense, and I got nothing.

  The logical part of my brain knew the girl hadn’t done anything wrong, yet I hated her anyway and wanted to hurt her as deeply as she’d hurt me. She was my enemy—the half-sister secret my father had hidden until yesterday.

  Slouched low in a dark jacket with my blond hair hidden beneath a cap, I peered out my car window at the yellow house fronted by an oversized brick planter. There were no flowers in the planter, only dead-looking weeds, and morning mist glistened each worn brick with dew, as if the house wept bloody tears.

  I’d parked inconspicuously under the overgrown vines of a willow and hoped no one would notice one more car in a neighborhood jam-packed with vehicles on the curbs, driveways, and even lawns. I mean, there were five cars crammed in the yellow house’s driveway.

  Did one of them belong to Jade?

  Leaning closer to my car window, I glimpsed her through sheer curtains as she moved in what I guessed was a living room. Golden light from a lamp sparked her red hair so that it seemed to be on fire. She cupped a phone to her ear while gesturing with her free hand. I couldn’t see her face from this distance, but her body language oozed drama, and I wondered what she was saying. Even more, I wondered if she was talking to him.

  Our father.

  It had been accidental—me finding out.

  While Dad was driving me home (after a disturbing day that included betrayal, violence, and the police), his cell phone rang. I could tell by the furtive way Dad whispered and glanced over at me that something weird was going on, so I pretended to be asleep. But all pretense ended when Dad detoured to this house where he was greeted by a girl about my age and a woman I guessed was her mother. Except for the girl’s red hair, she looked shockingly like me. But I was even more shocked when she wrapped her arms around my father and called him “Daddy!”

  My first thought was that the girl had mistaken my father for someone else.

  But I’d been the one mistaken.

  About my father.

  Afterwards, Dad drove me to a nearly deserted coffeehouse and we faced each other across a table. Hurt and anger brewed with my hot tea, leaving a bad taste.

  “Don’t look at me that way, Sabine. Let me explain. Please,” my father had said in a quiet, pained voice that would usually sway me.

  But I was stone, sipping hot bitterness.

  Still I couldn’t help but listen as he talked.

  He explained that he’d met Crystal at the casino where she worked as a dealer before he married my mother. Crystal was beautiful, wild, and unpredictable, unlike the proper, pedigreed girls he usually dated. He thought he was in love and asked her to marry him. They were engaged for only a few weeks when she jilted him for a wealthy older man. Dad was heartbroken, but got over her quickly and went on to marry my mother. I was born a year later.

  He hadn’t even known Crystal had a child, not until her husband died four years ago, owing so many creditors that his wife and daughter were bankrupt. That’s when Crystal sought out my father and introduced him to thirteen-year-old Jade: his eldest daughter.

  “Jade’s resemblance to you left no doubt she was mine.” My father sighed deeply, his hands folded around the coffee cup as if clinging to a life preserver. “She’s missed out on so much. I couldn’t make up for the lost years, but since then I’ve done my best to be a supportive father.”

  “But what about us?” I asked softly. “Your real family?”

  “You haven’t lacked for anything.”

  “Except you.”

  He closed his eyes as if I was the sun and looking too closely would steal his sight. And he said nothing. This lawyer father I’d idolized my whole life and who could sway a jury with skilled eloquence offered no words in his own defense, only slumped his shoulders with the grim acceptance of my guilty verdict.

  A waitress came over with a coffeepot, refilled Dad’s cup, and asked me if I wanted more tea. I shook my head, my gaze fixed on Dad, not looking up. When she turned to the next table, I asked softly, “Does Mom know?”

  “No. And I’d prefer it remained that way.”

  “You want me to lie for you?”

  “I hope you’ll respect my privacy.”

  “What do you know about respect?” My hands tightened around my teacup, and I was tempted to fling more than words in his face. I thought how his face lit up when he described “wild and unpredictable” Crystal. Add to that the growing tension between my parents and all the nights Dad was “working late.”

  Ohmygod! This was about more than Dad discovering another daughter. He’d fallen in love with Crystal again and was cheating on my mother. It all made sense. The next step would be divorce—which would rip apart my family. My younger sisters, Amy and Ashley, would be devastated.

  “This hasn’t been easy,” Dad said gravely. “It’s complicated, torn between all the people you love. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Why did adults always say that? As if they knew everything and thought that being young meant being stupid. But
Dad was wrong—I understood more than he knew. He wasn’t the only one with secrets.

  I’d been keeping a big one from Josh—my sexy and sweet boyfriend who trusted me. Josh had been unavailable a lot lately so we hadn’t been together much. Maybe we were growing apart. I wasn’t sure, but unless we broke up, it wasn’t right for me to lust after another guy. Yet that’s how I’d been feeling about Dominic (the handyman/apprentice employed by my grandmother Nona) since we’d been working together to find a remedy for Nona’s illness. Even worse—in a fireworks life-or-death moment, I’d kissed Dominic and enjoyed it. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  How could I judge my father when I was just as guilty?

  So I agreed to keep Dad’s secret. Not to protect him, but to protect my ten-year-old twin sisters who deserved more, and even for Mom who had her faults but was still my mother and I didn’t want her hurt.

  But I won’t be like you, Dad, I thought with resolve. No more lying to Josh and lusting after someone else. I will make it work with Josh. I will forget all about Dominic.

  So what was I doing spying in this rundown neighborhood where weeds thrived more than grass, miles from my parents’ upscale home? Did I want to find out more about Jade? Was I jealous of this half-sister who seemed to be getting more than half of my father’s attention? Did I want revenge or to get to know her? Or maybe I was here to prove to myself that she didn’t matter; that my family was still intact and everything was fine with my world.

  Shadows stirred in the living room and a man walked toward Jade. But he didn’t stop and she didn’t put aside her cell. Then the front door opened and the man stepped out of the house.

  For a second I thought I was going to catch my own father sneaking out after spending the night with his girlfriend. But that wasn’t possible. Dad’s car had still been in the driveway when I’d left over an hour ago. Besides, this man was much older than my father; heavy-set, gray-haired, and wearing awful tweed slacks with a mustard yellow, long-sleeved shirt. If my best friend Penny-Love were here, she’d want to shoot him for fashion crimes.

  Tweed Man glanced around surreptitiously and I wondered if he sensed me watching. Quickly, I ducked down low. I cautiously peeked out the window again. The man kept his head low, as if he was hiding something, as he crossed the lawn to a midsize burgundy pickup.

  Who was he?

  I leaned forward for a better look until my nose bumped against the glass.

  As Tweed Man turned to open his car door, silver flashed off a round object hanging out of his back pocket. At first glance, it looked like a silver bracelet dangling from a chain. But realization struck, and I gave a soft gasp.

  Handcuffs.

  Within a few hours my life took a swift turn in a new direction, so there was no time to wonder about my new half-sister, her mother, or the man with the handcuffs.

  After spying, I came back home to find my family stuck in a weird time warp. Dad flipped blueberry pancakes while Mom squeezed oranges and my younger sisters sat at the dining room table. Ashley, AKA Miz Drama Diva, belted out a new song she’d composed while Amy, Miz Book Butterfly, had her nose in one of the vintage mystery series she collected.

  This cozy family scene was surreal, as if I’d stepped into a sitcom where everyone smiled too much and the laughter was faked. It was like floating out of my body and watching from a distance, except my feet remained solidly on the ground.

  “The chef’s specialty today is blueberry pancakes. Would you like a stack?” Dad asked with a wave of a spatula at me. The deep lines on his face yesterday were gone and he looked happier than I’d seen him in a long time.

  “Of course she does. Who can resist the chef’s specialty?” Mom said in a teasing tone. Orange juice dribbled down her hand as she turned to smile at me. “Sabine, get a plate and sit with your sisters. Where have you been so early?”

  “Nowhere special. I just felt like driving.” That sounded lame, but my mother didn’t probe deeper. So I quickly averted further questions by grabbing a plate and holding it out to the “chef.”

  I scooted a chair beside Amy who didn’t even look up from her book, so all I could see was the top of her dark head and a purple dust jacket on a book titled Hoof Beats on the Turnpike. Ashley, on the other hand, was in constant motion and only read under protest for school assignments. My sisters may look alike—tall, slender, with dark lashes contrasting sky blue eyes and long, wavy black hair—but lately they strived to be different. Not that Mom noticed—she still bought them double everything and overloaded their schedules with music classes and modeling gigs. Amy was less than enthusiastic, but Ashley’s eyes sparkled with Hollywood stars.

  “Want to hear my new song?” Ashley jumped up from her chair, spinning a pirouette in lavender slippers. “I woke up with the melody in my head and the words came real fast. What do you think of my title—‘Crushed By You’? It’s all about this girl who crushes on her brother’s best friend. I think it’s my best yet.”

  I nodded and listened while she sang a bluesy song that sounded too mature for a ten-year-old, but then Ashley was full of surprises—like my entire morning. I still felt seriously confused … but relieved, too. Dad and Mom were acting strange, stealing touches and ogling each other with flirty looks. I had the feeling they’d done some serious talking last night and reached an understanding.

  Maybe my family would be okay.

  Dad obviously kept his promise about talking to Mom about my moving out. I didn’t know what he said to convince her, but it worked. That evening my mother took me aside and told me she’d decided I should move back to Sheridan Valley.

  “We’ll all miss you terribly, but my mother’s health is fragile and she needs you more than we do,” Mom said as if this was all her idea. I kept a straight face and just nodded, like I was making a supreme sacrifice. But inside I was jumping over the moon for joy.

  The next day I had a déjà vu moment.

  My suitcases were packed and I was moving out.

  Mom waited downstairs, ready to drive me to Sheridan Valley.

  I felt a strange displacement of time, as if my life had rewound seven months to the traumatic day I’d been forced to leave school because my premonition that football jock Kip Hurst would die on prom night had come true. I was shunned, labeled a “witch,” and sent to live with my grandmother.

  But what should have been a punishment turned out to be a blessing. I loved living with Nona, who totally got me because she was psychic, too. I enrolled at Sheridan High and hid the fact that I saw ghosts and regularly had conversations with my spirit guide Opal. I worked hard to be normal and fit in with my new best friend Penny-Love and her cool friends. I even hooked up with deliciously hot Josh DeMarco.

  Things were going great (well, except for some freaky premonitions and hauntings, but no one I cared about died, so everything turned out okay). I loved my new life and would never have moved back to San Jose—until my mother summoned me. There was no arguing with The Maternal Dictator, so for the last few weeks I’d lived in San Jose, keeping up with homework through independent study, secretly waiting for my chance to return to Sheridan Valley.

  My chance had come.

  Only this time I wasn’t being sent away in disgrace. My packed bags had no aura of shame. I was going back to the home of my heart—with Nona.

  The two-hour drive was pleasant, with light conversation about things that didn’t matter: Mom’s ambitions for my sisters, her frustration over a rude member of her Women’s Auxiliary Club, and her search for a new hair stylist since the regular girl quit. I found myself wondering if Mom had any clue about Dad’s secrets.

  Did she know that Dad almost married another woman? Did she know Dad might have been having an affair with this woman? Did she know I had a half-sister? And on the nights Dad claimed to work late, did she know Dad was seeing his other family? How could she not know? My strong, competent mother had to suspect something. Or maybe she did, but was afraid if she pushed Dad to choo
se between his families, she’d lose everything.

  It was such a strange thing to feel sorry for my mother. Yet I did.

  When we slowed into Lilac Lane and turned down the gravel driveway, overwhelming joy brought tears to my eyes. Everything looked so wonderfully the same, as if I’d never left and each blade of grass and graveled stone stood still in time. Nona’s yellow, ranch-style house was peacefully nestled among shady trees, with a pasture, barn, livestock, and dense woods on the surrounding ten acres. The house needed painting, some of the fencing posts sagged with age, and the fields were wild and overgrown. But it was my own perfect paradise and I wouldn’t change anything. No matter what, I was accepted here and loved.

  As we neared the house, we were greeted by a strange sight—a row of girls wearing red sweatpants and Sheridan Valley shirts and waving red and white pompons. My best friend Penelope Lovell (nicknamed Penny-Love) raised her arms and shouted, “Ready! Go!

  “SABINE! SABINE! Who reigns supreme?” Penny-Love chanted, and the other girls echoed each word with a resounding yell. “Gimme an S! Gimme an A! Gimme a B-I-N-E! What’s that spell?” They all jumped and waved their poms. “SABINE! WELCOME HOME!”

  Catelyn and Jill sprang into back flips, while Kaitlyn sliced the air into splits and Penny-Love jumped so high that when she hit the ground, gravel spit up around her red tennis shoes.

  I flung open the car door and rushed out.

  “I’M BACK!” I squealed. Then I was hugging Penny-Love and the other members of the Sheridan Cheer Squad. We laughed and jumped and even cried a little.

  There was Nona, too, wearing a long paisley skirt with butterfly pockets and a dark blue jacket, her gray-blond hair clipped back with a butterfly barrette. Perched beside her on the porch was my white cat with mismatched, blue-green eyes, Lilybelle. Even one of the cows leaned across the fence and mooed as if to shout out “welcome” along with the cheerleaders.

  I felt a wonderful sense of homecoming.

  Of course, a few special people were absent. Like my Goth friend, Thorn, who had her own psychic uniqueness but scorned society (especially cheerleaders); rebel-with-a-computer Manny, who was editor of the school newspaper; and of course, Josh and Dominic—the two guys causing a tug-of-war in my heart.