Unbound (Unbound, Book 1) ~Formerly Casting Power~

Chapter Fifty-Nine

As soon as Grimas disappeared from my rear-view mirror the feeling of dread vanished.

I contemplated trying to go back to class—avoid needing Devland to excuse my absence—but a drive around the block proved nothing had changed. The moment Grimas was in my line of sight, the feeling stole my breath away and left the moment its image faded again. So, I kept driving until I was at the Manor.

"Oh!" Mrs. Renaldi jumped in surprise when I walked into the kitchen. "You scared me!" She put her hand against her chest and darted her eyes to the wall clock before looking back to me. "Why are you home so early?"

I'd always thought that she spent her downtime between meals cleaning like Miss Rose and her lackey, whose name I couldn't remember though she was pleasant whenever we met. She so obviously wasn't cleaning; rather, she sat at a bar stool in a corner of the kitchen flipping through In Style and watching What Not to Wear on Lifetime on a 13" television.

"Are you feeling okay?" she got up and placed the back of her hand on my forehead. "You don't feel warm."

"I'm not sick." I pushed her hand away gently. "I came home early because of cramps."

"I have Midol, if that helps?" She reached for her purse, red like her hair and sporting a thousand decorative pockets.

"No, thank you. I'm going to go lie down." I pushed away from the counter. "Can you let Devland know I came home and need my absences excused?"

"Yes, of course. Do you want anything else? A hot water bottle? Tea? I could make you some—"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Renaldi. It's nothing a good rest can't cure." I smiled again and took the stairs two at a time.

I had just passed through the door leading into my bedroom from my sitting room when my cell phone began to ring. I hurried to pull it from my bag, though I didn't recognize the number. Not that that meant anything. The only number I knew in Wickenton was Maible's—Devland didn't count.

"Hello?" Slightly out of breath, I pushed my hair out of my face and dropped my bag on the foot of my bed.

"Hey, Nora." I was amazed at the effect just his voice had on me. "It's Calin."

"How'd you get my number?" I sat down at my desk and leaned back in the chair.

"Maible."

"Okay?" I concentrated on tracing the grain of wood of the desk with my fingertips. "But why? I thought we'd agreed we weren't going to be friends?"

"I'm calling about the mail you asked me to send," he said. "I took it to the post office to mail it instead of putting it in the box outside, and the strangest thing happened. None of the addresses are actual locations."

"Oh." I slumped and tried not to choke on the tears that misted my eyes as I looked up to the ceiling. Why couldn't something work out? This wasn't even about me. It was about my mom—literally the memory of her. "Um, that's... Ugh." I swiped my hand across my cheeks and flicked tears from my finger to the floor, hating that I couldn't keep them in check. I cleared my throat again and said, "It's fine, I guess. Thank you for trying."

"I'll get them mailed somehow, Nora, I swear. My mom said—"

"You really told on Devland to your mom?"

"It wasn't tattling," he defended. "I left right after you, and when I came home with a bunch of stuffed envelopes I couldn't mail, she asked me about it. Would you prefer me to lie?"

"Did you ask her about my questions?" Maybe something good would still come out of this day.

"She says that to break a curse you have to—I mean the person who is cursed has to—truly believe in how things were despite how things are." He coughed. "You can do it another way, too."