“Oh, come off it, Mom. I know the truth about Nightmares.”

A flush spread up Moira’s neck, but she didn’t respond, merely stood there, staring at me as if I were some new and ghastly species of bug. One she’d like to squish under the sole of her high-heeled, black leather boots.

The lunch bell rang. The realization that we weren’t going to be alone for much longer spurred me onward. I had to know the truth. “Did you do it, Mom?”

Her gaze turned fiery. “I can’t believe you would ask me that. What kind of a daughter are you?”

Her words hurt, cutting me in deep, sensitive places. Tears flooded my eyes. All the emotions I’d been bottling up for the last few days exploded outward. “Me? Me? What kind of mother are you? You’re no mother at all, that’s what. You left me and Dad when I was just a baby. You didn’t care about me, not when I was a plain old human. When you thought I was just your mule offspring from a marriage you’d rather forget. Oh, no, you didn’t care about me until I got magic. So don’t you dare criticize me as a daughter when you’ve been such a crappy mother.”

By the time I finished my tirade, I was panting. I hadn’t gotten this worked up over my mother’s exit from my life in years. I’d long since learned to ignore the resentment, the hurt like a canker sore around my heart. But I couldn’t ignore it right now, staring her in the face.

Moira’s eyes remained fixed on mine, her expression masked. If she’d been moved by my outburst, it didn’t show. Her lack of response bothered me even more, especially considering the torrential downpour on my face. Someone so cold was capable of anything.

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Say something.”

“Fine. How’s this?” she said through gritted teeth. “You only think you followed me down into that tunnel, Destiny. And even if it was me, that’s hardly reason enough to believe me capable of murder.”

I threw up my hands. “Oh, yeah? I’ve got more reasons than that. Even the senate thinks you can’t be trusted.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“You don’t believe me?” I yanked open my backpack and pulled out the envelope with the consul’s e-mail. “Take a look at this.”

My mother snatched the envelope from my hand, ripped out the paper inside, and read the e-mail. Then she looked at me, her expression darkening. “Where did you get this?”

Uh-oh. Stupid, stupid me. I paled at my blunder. “It’s a secret. And it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Moira pursed her lips.

People were starting to file into the room, and I quickly wiped away my tears with my shirtsleeve. Unfortunately, there was no hiding the telltale puffiness in my cheeks.

“I want that back,” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s mine.”

Mom shook her head, and from the stubborn look on her face I knew it was no good, not unless I wanted to fight her for it. Somehow, I didn’t think tackling my mother/teacher would go over very well. Not to mention the total mortification I’d face when I lost.

“I suggest you don’t push me about it,” she said in a steely voice. “Not considering how violent you believe me to be. Now go sit down. And don’t you dare speak to me again.”

I swallowed, unsure if I felt guilty or relieved. I also wasn’t sure if she meant don’t speak to her again today or ever. In the end, I decided I didn’t care.

20

The Tomb

By Friday, I understood my mom meant what she’d said about never speaking to her again. She hadn’t even looked at me during any of my psionics classes. I told myself it didn’t bother me, although it was tough not being able to ask questions. Especially when I came to accept that she was a pretty good teacher. There wasn’t much point in raising my hand, though. Not when the person with the power to acknowledge it was pretending I didn’t exist. I’d gone from a bug to a nonentity.

Worst of all, I still didn’t know if she was innocent or not. She never actually said that she hadn’t been in the tunnel. She might’ve blown a lid at my accusation, but I couldn’t tell if it was righteous anger, guilt, or just plain good acting.

Then there was the exchange with Culpepper. I showed up early to class twice more, hoping to rummage through her purse again, but she stopped leaving her stuff unattended. The next step would be to search her home, but I didn’t know if she’d moved into one of the faculty town houses on campus now that she was a teacher or if she was still in her apartment on Waterfront Lane. It was rather depressing not knowing where my mother was living, but given the current state of our relationship, not that surprising, either.

I meant to ask Paul what he thought about my mother’s behavior, but every time I saw him or spoke to him on the phone, we ended up talking about other things—things that made me feel all tingly inside and more than a little eager for our next date.

I wanted to confide in Selene, but I was afraid of her reaction. What if she told me to go to the sheriff? I definitely wasn’t ready to take my suspicions about my mother that far without solid proof.

It was my mother I was thinking about when I left the dorm room at midnight on Friday, headed for Eli’s. I opened the door, stepped out, and collided with someone that shouldn’t have been there. I shrieked and leaped backward.

“You’re late,” the someone said in a familiar voice.