He looked at me, guilt shining in the back of his eyes.
"You, ah, want to see what I can do?" I asked hesitantly.
Robbie's breath came in fast, and he shook himself. "No," he said, gaze on the table. "You did the right thing. I wasn't here to protect you. It was my fault."
"Robbie . . ." I whined. "It's not anybody's fault. I don't want to be protected. I'm a lot stronger now. I can protect myself. Actually . . ." I looked at the application, my fingers cold as I reached for it. I knew he wouldn't approve, but if I could get him on my side, we might be able to convince Mom-and then I wouldn't have to wait. "Actually, I'd like to do more than that."
He said nothing as I pulled the paper out like a guilty secret and shoved it across the table. My knees went weak, and I felt the hints of lightheadedness take over. God, how could I ever hope to be a runner if I didn't have enough nerve to bring it up with my brother?
The sound of the paper rasping on the table as he picked it up seemed loud. The furnace clicked on, and the draft shifted my hair as I watched his gaze travel over the paper. Slowly his expression changed as he realized what it was. His eyes hit mine, and his jaw clenched. "No."
He went to crumple the paper, and I snatched it away. "I'm going to do this."
"The I.S.?" Robbie said loudly. "Are you crazy? That's what killed Dad!"
"It is not. I was there. He said so. Where were you?"
Feeling the hit, he shifted to the back of the chair. "That's not fair."
"Neither is telling me I can't do something simply because it scares you," I accused.
His brow furrowed, and I grabbed my cup of coffee, sliding it between us. "Is this why you're so hell bent on those karate classes?" he asked bitterly.
"It's not karate," I said. "And yes, it puts me ahead of everyone else. With my two-year degree, I can be a full runner in four years. Four years, Robbie!"
"I don't believe this." Robbie crossed his arms over his chest. "Mom is actually letting you do this?"
I stayed silent, ticked.
Robbie made a derisive noise from deep in his chest. "She doesn't know," he accused, and I brought my gaze up. My vision was blurring, but by God, I wasn't going to wipe my eyes.
"Rachel," he coaxed, seeing me teetering in frustration. "Did you even read the contract? They have you forever. No way out. You're not even twenty yet, and you're throwing your life away!"
"I am not!" I shouted, my voice trembling. "What else am I good for? I'll never be as good as Mom at earth magic. I've tried flipping burgers and selling shoes, and I hated it. I hate it!" I almost screamed.
Robbie stared, clearly taken aback. "Then I'll help you get a real degree. All you need is the right classes."
My jaw clenched. "I took the right classes, and I have a real degree," I said, angry. "This is what I want to do."
"Running around in the dark arresting criminals? Rachel, be honest. You will never have the stamina." And then his expression blanked. "You're doing this because of Dad."
"No," I said sullenly, but my eyes had dropped, and it was obvious that was part of it.
Robbie sighed. He leaned to take my hand across the table, and I jerked out of his reach. "Rachel," he said softly. "If Dad was here, he'd tell you the same thing. Don't do it."
"If Dad was here, he'd drive me to the I.S. office himself," I said. "Dad believed in what he did with his life. He didn't let danger stop him; he just prepared for it better."
"Then why did he let himself get killed?" Robbie said, an old pain in his pinched eyes. "He'd tell you to expand on your earth witch degree and find something safe."
"Safe!" I barked, shifting back. Damn it, now I'd never convince Mom. I needed her signature on the application, or I'd have to wait until I was nineteen. That meant I'd be twenty-three before I was actually making money at it. I loved my mom, but I had to get out of this house. "If Dad was here, he'd let me," I muttered, sullen.
"You think so?" Robbie shot back.
"I know so."
It was silent apart from my foot tapping the chair leg and the ticking of the clock. I folded up the application and snapped it down between us like an accusation. Reaching for my coffee, I took a swig, trying not to grimace at the taste. I don't care how good it smelled, it tasted awful. I couldn't believe people actually enjoyed drinking this stuff.
Robbie stood, startling me as the chair scraped and bumped over the linoleum. "Where are you going?" I asked. Not home for five minutes, and we were arguing already.
"To get something," he said, and walked out. I could hear him talking under his breath, and the harsh sound of a zipper as he opened his suitcase. His bedroom door slammed shut and the familiar stomp of his feet in the hall as he came back was loud.
I knew I was wearing that same unhappy, ugly look he had when he dropped a heavy book on the table in front of me. "Happy solstice," he said, slumping into his chair.
I waited, not knowing what to say. "What is it?"
"A book," he said shortly. "Open it."
I scooted closer and tucked my hair behind an ear. It was as big as a dictionary, but the pages were thick, not thin. The stark brightness told me it was new, but the charms in them . . . I'd never even heard of them.
"That's an eight-hundred-level textbook from the university in Portland," he said, voice harsh. "Now that you have your two-year degree, I wanted to ask if you would come out with me to take classes."
My head came up. He wanted me to go out to the West Coast with him?
"Mom, too," he added, and then his expression shifted to pleading. "Look at those spells, Rachel. Look what you can do if you apply yourself and invest some time. If you go into the I.S., you won't ever be able to do charms like that. Is that what you want?"
Lips parted, I looked at the pages. I was okay with earth magic, but these looked really hard. "Robbie, I-"
My words cut off and I stared at the page. "Oh wow," I breathed, looking at the charm.
"See," Robbie coaxed, his voice eager. "Look at that stuff. It's yours if you want it. All you have to do is work for it."
"No, look!" I said, shoving the book across the table and standing to follow it around. "See? There's a charm to summon the wrongfully dead. I can ask Dad. I can ask Dad what he thinks I should do."
Robbie's mouth dropped open. "Let me see that," he said, bending over the book. "Holy shit," he breathed, long fingers trembling. "You're right." He was wearing a smile when he pulled his gaze from the pages. "Tell you what," he said, leaning back with a look I recognized, the one he used to wear when he was getting me into trouble. "You do this spell to summon Dad, and ask him. If it works, you do what he says."