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  “Seriously, it was just a few misbehaving vampires.” Miranda stood, wanting to find a private place to chat. Before she got away, Kylie reached over and squeezed her hand, offering a touch of calm. Obviously, she could read Miranda’s emotions.

  “Does Burnett know?” her mom asked as Miranda stepped into the small kitchen. The door swished closed behind her.

  “Yes, he’s looking into it.” Her “you just lied” alarm didn’t completely go off. Downplaying something wasn’t completely lying. Besides, her mom was thousands of miles away and wasn’t going to be here for a couple days. No reason to get her all panicky.

  There was a pause.

  “Is Dad home?” Miranda asked, remembering how she’d suddenly missed him earlier.

  “No, he was asked to work another week in England.”

  “He seems to be working more and more lately.” Miranda tried to keep her frustration from her voice.

  “Yeah. He’s a workaholic.” A slight note of discontent sounded in her mom’s voice. Her mom had never complained about her dad’s schedule, she’d accepted it. As a matter of fact, she’d heard her mom tell people that she wasn’t sure she could live with a man full-time.

  Her parents had never had what you could call a normal relationship. But they seemed happy. For the first time, Miranda worried perhaps her mom was getting lonely. Not that her mom was the type to get lonely. She had the social calendar of a celebrity. If anything, before Miranda had left to go to school at Shadow Falls, she’d often felt she was interfering with her mom’s busy schedule.

  “So, he’s not going to come to Paris?” Miranda’s question met silence. “It would only take a few hours to get here by train. Mom?”

  “Uh, no. Your dad’s not into competitions. You know that, dear.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve never been up for high priestess before.” Not that this was her dad’s dream. Her mom was the one pushing for Miranda to climb the Wicca ladder of success. “Or in France. I just thought he might … you know, make an exception.” Another pause. “Maybe you could call him and ask. We haven’t had any family time in months.”

  “You’re right. We should go skiing in Colorado. Right after Christmas. I think it’s his year to work on Christmas day. But I’ll mention it when I speak with him.”

  Her dad, along with a friend, owned several boutique hotels across the U.S. Her mom had never wanted to live out of a hotel room, and other than a couple of times a year, they never stayed at one of her dad’s properties.

  “Maybe if I call and ask him to come to Paris, he’ll do it,” Miranda said, feeling secure in her relationship with her father. It was her mom that Miranda had always felt she disappointed.

  “It will only make him feel bad if he has to tell you no. Let’s not make him feel bad, okay?”

  Miranda had heard that line before. When she first realized that most fathers didn’t travel so much for their jobs, she complained that her dad wasn’t going to be around for a holiday. It’s just a day, her mother told her, we can celebrate Christmas or Easter any day. And they did. Always.

  Her family life had never been traditional, but when she considered her friends with more traditional family lives, friends whose parents divorced, and even sued each other for custody of the kids, Miranda decided nontraditional wasn’t all that bad.

  Sure, her parents argued. Her mom would turn her poor dad into a baboon or a rat, but she always changed him back, and after a few days of not speaking to each other, they always made up. More importantly, Miranda sensed they were happy.

  “When is your plane landing in Paris?” Miranda asked in lieu of agreeing to not calling her dad. She missed him, darn it. What would it hurt to call him and ask him to come?

  She had never really considered herself a daddy’s girl, but realizing someone might be trying to kill you had this girl wanting her first hero.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my ticket.”

  “Okay,” Miranda said, and looked back to make sure the door was closed. Now that she had her daddy issues resolved, she decided it was time to tackle a different issue altogether.

  “Mom, can I ask you something?”

  “Why … sure,” she replied, yet her tone sounded unsure. “But if this is about sex, let me sit down first. And if you’re going to tell me you’re pregnant I’m gonna need to fix a drink.” Silence spilled into the line while Miranda tried to wrap her head around her mom’s response. “Oh, gawd, do I need a drink?”

  “No. It’s not about sex and I’m not pregnant.” Miranda recalled that Della’s parents were always accusing her of such things. Rolling her eyes, she sat down at the small kitchen table. “Why would you even think that?”

  “Is it about that boy, Peter?”

  “Perry, not Peter, and no, it is not about him.”

  “Okay, then I should be able to handle it standing up and sober.”

  Miranda inwardly sighed. Who knew her mom was such a drama queen? “What happened between you and Tabitha’s mom fourteen years ago?” Miranda heard her mom’s deep breath.

  “What? Is Mary Esther there?”

  Miranda figured Mary Esther was Tabitha’s mom. And it seemed odd that her mom would refer to her by her first name. “No.”

  “So her little twit said something, huh? Ignore her.”

  “Ignore what? Mom, what happened? Why do I feel as if everyone knows something that I don’t?”

  All of a sudden, Miranda remembered what she had started to suspect. She and Tabitha shared the premonition gift. Shit! Did that mean…?

  Miranda mentally pulled up a vision of Tabitha’s mom. The woman had similar features to her mom and was about the same height, and the same body shape. “Mom, are you and Mary Esther related?”

  “Why would you ask that?” Her mom’s voice inched up to the panic stage.

  “Because Tabitha and I share some talents that are mostly common in bloodlines. Tell me. Is Mary Esther like my aunt or something? Is Tabitha my cousin?”

  “I can’t talk about this now,” her mom snapped, and hung up.

  Chapter Ten

  The kitchen door swung open behind Miranda. Still in a kind of shock, she looked back, half expecting it to be Tabitha. She was wrong.

  “How bad was it?” Kylie asked.

  It took Miranda a second to realize Kylie was referring to her telling her mom about the whole mess at the Eiffel Tower. “Not too bad. I sugarcoated it. But…” Miranda paused to consider how to put this. “But I think … I mean, it sounds crazy, but I think Tabitha and I are cousins. I think our moms are sisters.”

  “Whoa, how did you find that out?”

  “I asked. Not that she admitted it, but … remember Tabitha and I share the gift of premonition. That usually runs in families. And when I was young, we ended up going to the same day care. My mom and her mom had this big fight and Tabitha got pulled from the school. Mom told me all the fuss was about the cookies.”

  “Cookies?” Kylie asked and grinned. “And you believed her.”

  “Hey, I was three. Cookies were a big deal.” Miranda stood up. “I didn’t see Tabitha again until Mom started forcing me to go to competitions. And right off the bat, she hated me. I couldn’t figure it out. But just now I realized how her mom and my mom are similar. About the same height, same body shape, hair color. I mean, it would make sense, right?”

  “I guess,” Kylie said. “Did your mom deny it?”

  “No. But she got all panicky and said she couldn’t talk about it, then hung up.”

  “Has she ever mentioned a sister?”

  “No, she said she was an only child. And seeing that she’s so into herself, I never doubted it.” Miranda sighed.

  “What about your grandparents?”

  “They died when I was really young. I barely remember them.”

  “Hey, do you think that’s what Tabitha meant when she said for you to stop acting as if you didn’t know?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I think.”

&nb
sp; “You know what?” Kylie said. “Now that I consider it, you and Tabitha sort of look alike. I mean, she has red hair and blue eyes, but if you just compare facial features, you two could be sisters.”

  Miranda nodded and looked at the door. Maybe it was time for her and Tabitha to have a talk.

  * * *

  The talk didn’t happen. By the time she left the kitchen, Sienna and Tabitha had locked themselves into one of the three bedrooms. Miranda had knocked. Sienna had answered. When Miranda said she wanted to talk to Tabitha, Sienna informed her that Tabitha was resting and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Now, two hours later, past midnight, Miranda lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to Kylie sleep, and trying not to listen to her own heart break.

  It broke over missing Perry. And over her confusion about what she felt for Shawn. It broke over missing her dad. It broke over feeling as if her mother was keeping secrets.

  And in a little way it broke over knowing someone might be out to kill her.

  Funny how being on someone’s hit list hurt less than the other issues. Maybe it was because Miranda really hadn’t wrapped her head around it yet.

  Right then Miranda heard footsteps outside her door. Was Della back?

  Throwing back the covers, Miranda tugged on her pink cotton nightshirt, reading the word princess written across the front. Giving it a glance, she decided it wasn’t indecent, and went and opened the door.

  No one was in the hall, but a light flashed from the kitchen doorway as if someone opened the refrigerator. She moved her sock feet down the wood floor to see who was raiding the fridge.

  As she inched past the door to another bedroom, the one where Tabitha and Sienna had taken refuge, she heard someone talking. She stopped, half considering knocking and insisting Tabitha come out and talk. But then she heard Sienna say, “Look, Mom, I can’t do anything about it. That FRU agent says I have to stay here. Fine, call him and tell him you’re picking me up and I’ll go.”

  Was Tabitha asleep? Or was she the one in the kitchen?

  Right before stepping into the doorway, she realized it might be Shawn. Oh, damn! There was a good chance it was Shawn. And considering the time, he could be … well, half naked. Did she want to have a late-night encounter with a partially clothed Shawn?

  Her heart did a couple of somersaults. The answer was both a yes and a no. She considered turning around, but decided to just take a peek and make sure it wasn’t Della or Tabitha before running. It had nothing to do with her trying to envision Shawn half naked.

  She hesitated. If it was Della, the vamp with her super hearing and sense of smell would have already made some wisecrack comment about Miranda trying to sneak up on her. So she ruled Della out.

  Moving her head past the door frame, she peered inside. Not a half-naked Shawn. Not that she could see the face. Yet the person who had their head buried in the fridge wore a light blue nightgown. Not Shawn.

  The person stood up, and red hair swung down her back.

  It was time—time for her and Tabitha to have that talk.

  “Hey.” Miranda stepped into the room.

  Tabitha, obviously startled, yelped, swung around, and hurled a condiment bottle at her.

  Miranda ducked. The bottle whizzed over her head and smacked against something.

  She turned around. The bottle had landed on a half-naked Shawn—a very nice-looking half-naked Shawn. Wearing only a pair of boxers, he held a bottle in his hand. Across his bare and gorgeous chest was a spray of red goo.

  Ketchup.

  “Sorry,” Tabitha offered and then let out a sudden snicker. “I … she startled me.” She pressed a hand over her lips.

  Miranda couldn’t help it. She chuckled as well.

  Shawn glanced down at his chest, moved into the kitchen a few steps, and placed the opened bottle on the table. He looked up, and his blue eyes settled on Miranda. His warm gaze swept down and up her body. Hadn’t she deemed this nightshirt decent? Why did she suddenly feel half naked herself?

  “I’m glad I could entertain you two,” he said in a sleepy voice and walked out.

  Miranda watched him leave, noting he looked as good going as he did coming. Then she wanted to cover her eyes thinking she shouldn’t have noticed.

  “It’s nothing.” Shawn’s voice echoed from the hall. “Just ketchup.” Footsteps continued, two sets. One leading away and one coming closer.

  Kylie appeared in the door frame. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” Miranda said. “I surprised Tabitha, and she … threw a bottle of ketchup. It hit Shawn.”

  “Oh.” Kylie leaned back on her heels and looked down the hall as if watching Shawn go. When she turned back a smile was on her lips. “Did he get mad?”

  “Just a little annoyed.” Miranda grinned. Then she titled her head to the side, cutting her eyes at Tabitha, hoping Kylie would understand that she wanted to talk to the redhead.

  Kylie must have gotten the message. “Okay, I’ll go back to bed.” She walked away, leaving Miranda and Tabitha alone.

  Miranda turned and faced Tabitha. Her hair hung loose, and without any makeup, she looked younger … and … familiar. Suddenly, Miranda could see what Kylie had mentioned earlier. She and Tabitha did sort of look alike.

  Were they cousins? If so, how sad was it that they’d been kept apart all this time. And for what? An argument between sisters?

  Tension seemed to rise from the tile floor and crowd the room.

  “Why did you do it?” Tabitha asked.

  “Do what?” Miranda shifted on her feet.

  “Save my life. Why?”

  Miranda considered the question and then shrugged. “It wasn’t as if I thought about it. I saw the fireball and just did it.”

  “Are you sorry you did it?” Tabitha asked.

  “No,” Miranda said and tried to find a way to figure out if she was right about them being related.

  Tabitha frowned. “Then you are a better person than I am, because I don’t know if I’d have done it for you.”

  “Nice to know,” Miranda replied, trying not to be too offended, but how could she not? The girl would have let the fireball fry her butt.

  “You hate me that much?” Miranda asked.

  “I hate your mother that much.” Tabitha clutched her fists at her sides.

  “Why? Just because your mom hates my mom, you hate her?” Miranda asked. “Don’t you think—”

  “That’s only part of it.” Tightness deepened her tone.

  Miranda tried to make sense of what Tabitha was saying, and finally gave up. “What’s the other part? What happened between them?”

  Tabitha just stared. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “I think I do,” Miranda said and when Tabitha didn’t chime in, Miranda decided to say it. “It’s apparent that we share talents, so that would make us blood.”

  Tabitha nodded, slowly, her expression one of pain as if admitting it hurt. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  Miranda rolled her eyes. The girl could just kiss her grits! Miranda wasn’t all that crazy about being related to her either.

  “So our mothers … they were sisters, right?” Miranda asked.

  “What?” Astonishment flashed in Tabitha’s eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know … what?” Miranda asked. When all Tabitha did was gape at her, Miranda added, “Holy hell! Just tell me.”

  She would have loved to fake it, pretend she knew the secret. Frankly, Miranda didn’t like feeling ignorant, but her need for answers wiped out the embarrassment.

  Tabitha shook her head as if in pity. “How could you not have figured it out? Are you stupid?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Stupid? Oh, Miranda did not like that word!

  “Well, Miss Smarty Pants, why don’t you just fill me in!” Miranda seethed. She cupped her hands at her sides to keep from wiggling her pinky at the girl to give her pimples.

  “They aren’t sisters. We
are!”

  Miranda’s breath caught. She remembered what Kylie had said. Now that I consider it, you and Tabitha sort of look alike. I mean, she has red hair and blue eyes, but if you just compare facial features, you two could be sisters. Her mind started spinning. “How … how could that be possible?”

  “Your slut of a mother had sex with my dad, that’s how!”

  “My mom’s not—”

  “Please! Figure it out, or do you suck at math, too? I’m five months older than you.”

  “Whoa! Stop!” Miranda held up her hand, her pinky itching to send some nasty spell Tabitha’s way. “First, my mother’s not a slut and second…” She didn’t have a second. Yes, she did. “My parents have been married since—”

  “They aren’t married! He’s married to my mom! She was pregnant with me when your mom threw herself at my dad.”

  “No,” Miranda said, realizing how stupid this all was. “My dad’s name is Kane and yours is—”

  “Yeah, I know he also goes by Austin Kane, and your mom had her name changed to Kane. Hence, you are a Kane. But his real name is Austin Evans. I know because I’ve seen his birth certificate. He was born in England. My mother is Irish. They met and married there.”

  “No,” Miranda snapped. “You’re lying. This is like a mean trick, or something.”

  Kylie appeared in the doorway behind Tabitha. No doubt the arguing had roused her again. “What’s wrong?” Kylie asked.

  Tabitha ignored Kylie. “This is no trick! Don’t be a fool.” Tabitha’s voice rose with anger. “What does he tell you when he leaves? That he’s working? Because that’s what he tells me. Of course, unlike you, I’m not foolish enough to believe it.”

  Everything in Miranda’s life suddenly felt like a lie. She felt like a fool. “If you’re lying to me, I swear I’ll…”

  “You’ll what? Turn me into a skunk, like you did to your friend’s cat? Or are you going for a kangaroo, this time? Not that it matters. Because I’m not lying. And I can see in your eyes that you already know I’m not. Accept it, Miranda. Your mother is a slut and you’re nothing more than a bastard child.”