Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1) Read Free Page B

regret.
    “ Of course, if you want to continue
working at Newt’s, you’re welcome to,” Sofie added as if reading my
mind.
    The offer was turning richer with every second
that I dithered. I didn’t know what to do. I wished I could ask my
mother for advice. “Wow. You’re hard to refuse,” I began, smiling
nervously.
    “ What’s there to refuse?” Sofie
reached out, a cordless phone in her hand. “Tell you what: if your
parents are okay with it, then you know it’s a good idea,
right?”
    I hesitated for a few seconds but eventually
accepted the phone and dialed home.
    My foster mom picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
    “ Uh, hi, Shelley?”
    “ Yes, Evangeline. What would you
like?” she asked in her typical polite but detached tone. She was
never unkind, nor was she overly friendly. She was just there. All
of my foster families had been the same. I was used to it.
Sometimes I wondered if they were government–designed robots
disguised as foster parents—programmed to conform to the law but
incapable of exhibiting emotion.
    “ Um, well, I got a job yesterday,
down at a café in the Art District,” I began. This was the most I
had spoken to her in days.
    “ That’s nice.” Silence.
    “ And my new boss just asked me to go
to New York to help her with some business. Would that be okay with
you?” I held my breath.
    “ You turn eighteen tomorrow. You can
legally do what you want.”
    I was amazed that she’d remembered my birthday.
Clearly she had no plans to celebrate it. Not a shocker. I normally
went full–fledged hermit on my birthday anyway, burrowing under a
blanket with a bag of popcorn and a mittful of Disney classics.
“Okay, well, I may go then. I’m not sure when I’ll be back,
though.”
    “ Have fun.” I heard the phone click
before I could say another word.
    “ Well?” Sofie asked.
    I stared at the dead receiver in my hand. How
representative of my life. In the five years since my mother’s
death, my existence had become like a one–way conversation with the
world—a solitary life spent drifting through homes and schools, all
but invisible to those around me.
    Until now. Sofie had noticed me.
    “ I think I’d like to come to New
York with you, if that’s alright.”
Am I really doing
this?
    “ Wonderful!” Sofie said, revealing a
rare spike of excitement.
    “ Yes, great.” I smiled nervously,
half expecting men in white coats to storm through the door. “So,
when are we leaving?”
    Sofie reached under the counter, retrieving a
purse and coat. She walked toward the door, her stilettos clicking
sharply against the wood floor. “Now,” she called to me, flicking
off the light switch. I stared, waiting for her to elaborate.
“Don’t doddle!” she added, suddenly urgent.
    I joined her at the front door and we stepped
out just as a black sedan pulled up to the curb. “You’re kidding,”
I exclaimed, my nerves stirring my bladder.
    “ Hop in!” she instructed, opening
the door for me.
    “ But … I should pack some things
…”
    She waved away my concerns. “Don’t worry about
any of that.”
    I stood there, baffled.
Don’t worry about
clean underwear and a toothbrush?
    A sharp edge in Sofie’s voice brooked no
argument. “Get in the car, Evangeline! The plane is
waiting.”
     
     
2. The Gift
     
    M y hands fidgeted in my lap
as I surveyed the bright and airy cabin of Sofie’s friend’s private
jet for the umpteenth time. We were about two–thirds of the way to
New York and I was on my third glass of red wine. I had politely
declined when the flight attendant first offered, admitting I was
underage. But Sofie rolled her eyes dramatically and ordered the
woman to disregard my silliness and keep my glass half full at all
times.
    I had protested then. Now, feeling the
alcohol–induced relaxation seeping through my body, I silently
thanked them for ignoring me. Easing back into my chair, I pressed
a button on the side of my armrest and watched with