Conspiracies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,85

anyway?” Loch added. “Because it couldn’t be more than a few, or someone would talk. Cops were investigating the hotel fire—don’t you think they’d have noticed arson? And how would you control a fire so it didn’t kill me, too?” Now he was twisting his ring, and shrugged. “Spirit, you have got to get a grip. If all our parents were killed by magic, there would be some trace of it. Face it, what we do isn’t exactly subtle, people would see things. If it was done by some other means, there would be evidence.”

But you didn’t see what I saw, she thought, starting to shiver.

“You’re confusing cause and effect,” Burke said, wearily, but in a tone that still sounded patronizing. “Or something like that. Most people our age have parents that are alive. People our parents’ ages generally don’t die, and when they do, it’s going to be something unusual. We’re just the ones in the minority who lost our parents, so of course how we lost them is unusual. So we’re orphans and we have magic, and our parents went to school here, so this is where we got sent by their wills. It’s no different than if we were all Native American and we got sent back to the rez when we were orphaned, even though we didn’t know we were Native American because our folks kept it secret from us.”

“Parents do that, Spirit, keep secrets from you,” Loch told her. “I don’t care how wonderful you thought they were, or how open, I know for a fact they were keeping secrets from you. The proof is that they never told you about Oakhurst. They might have been doing so because they were trying to protect you, or because they were ashamed of not having magic or ashamed that they did, or a million other reasons.”

“I’ll say it again, Spirit. Get a grip. It’s all coincidence.” Burke rubbed his head. “Seriously. Keep this up—”

“And they’re going to send you to the Shadow Oakhurst Loony Bin and you and Lizzie can trade hallucinations and be BFFs,” Muirin said, with a nasty glint in her eye. “Maybe she’ll decide you were her mother, the Queen of Ireland. Or her rival, Isolde of the Fair Hands, would that be nice to be confined with?”

“Muirin, chill,” Addie said warningly.

Spirit felt her eyes starting to burn as she held back tears. She didn’t get it. Was it just that they really were all burned out and wanted someone else to take over? Was she really the paranoid one? Was she delusional?

She got up and left them abruptly, scrubbing her sleeve across her eyes as soon as she was out of sight. The tears came anyway, and she had to grope her way the last few steps to her room. Once inside she leaned against the door, feeling physically sick from her emotions. Anger, betrayal, despair … mostly despair. And abandonment. Maybe that was the worst. She sat on the edge of the bed and cried for a while. And that made her feel even more abandoned. Part of her had thought—hoped—that Addie or Muirin at least would come after her. That Burke or Loch would try. Hoped for a knock on the locked door. But nothing came. Not even the sound of a whisper or footsteps in the hall outside.

So maybe you’re the one who’s crazy, here, a little voice whispered in her mind.

If only she could talk to someone outside this place … one of her Mom or Dad’s friends, or something … but there was no getting past that firewall.

Was there?

The thumb drive!

She went to the desk and dug it out, and this time she went ahead and followed the instructions.

The instructions didn’t open a browser. They sent her straight to what looked like a chatroom. There was one other user in it, someone called QUERCUS.

After a moment, a long moment, she hesitantly typed hi.

Hello Spirit, QUERCUS replied. I am glad you found the way out.

A shiver ran up her back, quickly quelled when she looked at the screen and realized the software had already put Spirit as her user name.

Who are you? she asked. The next logical question.

A friend. I want to help you.

Yeah, right. She glared at the screen.

I know about feeling alone, QUERCUS typed when she didn’t respond.

Why did you send me this software? she asked, instead of responding directly.

To give you hope in the dark times.

Well, that wasn’t exactly helpful. And—how did she know she was