Cast Into Darkness by Janet Tait Page B

windows, faced the ocean. Kate hadn’t been in Grayson’s office for years. The bookcases lining the walls still groaned under the weight of her uncle’s books, tome after tome of old, decaying paper bound in leather studded with gems so rare she wasn’t sure exactly what they were. Stacked beside those were scrolls thick with illegible writing, some so ancient they looked as though they would dissolve if she touched them.
    His desk still held piles of papers and pictures of the family, a sleek wide-screen monitor replacing the old CRT. Disassembled talismans, hunks of amber, a soldering iron, and a few spare lodestones covered his old metal workbench. Stacks of magazines sat on the floor— The Journal of Applied Thaumatology next to Field and Stream.
    Grayson sank into his favorite leather chair while Brian dug in the refrigerator for sodas. Brian handed her one. Kate sat on the tweed sofa and let the air-conditioning blow across her overheated face. As she ran the cold can of the diet cola across her forehead, she wondered what felt so off to her about Grayson’s office. Something had changed since she’d been here last.
    Then she spotted it.
    “You’ve organized,” she said.
    Grayson took a long drink of his soda.
    Everything lay in crisp, neat stacks, from the books, to the scrolls, to the piles of silver ingots. It seemed nothing like the barely controlled chaos of the Grayson she knew and loved—books everywhere, papers mixed in with talismans, notes pinned over each other on his wall map of artifact finds, magazines scattered across the floor. Somehow, he’d always known how to find everything.
    “Hayley got the ladies in to straighten up. They finished before I even knew about it.” Grayson shrugged. “Easier to keep it this way.” His smile showed a hint of strain.
    Maybe the housekeepers really had rearranged. Or maybe Grayson had started worrying that people were after his stuff, and he could keep an eye on it better if he knew where everything lived. All the time.
    She tried to catch Brian’s eye, but he avoided her gaze. He’d mentioned a few weeks ago that Grayson was now on risperidone—the family’s standard starter med for paranoia. Just a precaution, Brian had said, given their uncle’s age. Was that why Brian didn’t want her to talk to Grayson about the stone?
    Hayley skipped in, a tray of sandwiches in her hands. “Okay, who wants tuna salad?”
    Lunch passed quickly amid the crunch of potato chips, fizz of sodas, and inconsequential small talk. Hayley talked about how busy she’d be when she attended Harvard next fall. Grayson mentioned a quick trip he’d planned to Japan tomorrow for the horse festival. And Brian thought he’d take the sailboat out next weekend—did Kate want to come? But Kate found what they didn’t say more intriguing: no talk of work, of casting, or of family politics. There couldn’t be any lack of it to discuss.
    Brian ignored her little hints that they talk outside. Ignored every attempt she made to get him to talk about his current mission. She tapped her foot on Grayson’s hard stone floor.
    And she noticed something else. Brian avoided talking to Grayson. Oh, he answered Grayson’s questions, nodded when he spoke, but her brother didn’t really talk to their uncle. Not like he used to.
    When the only things left on the tray were broken chips and bread crumbs, Brian got up to leave. Hayley followed, grabbing the tray.
    Kate rose as well. Maybe now she’d get a chance to talk to her brother alone.
    “Brian, stay a minute. There’s something I want to speak to you about,” Grayson said.
    “Sure.” Brian glanced at Kate and Hayley. “Why don’t you two go ahead? We’ll catch up more later.”
    Kate trailed out after Hayley, her eyes on Brian, jaw clenched. He’d talk to her later. Sure he would. He drops this stupid stone off with her, doesn’t care that it does something to her in the dressing room for a half hour, isn’t interested in