The Darkness of Shadows by Chris Little Page B

break from what happened before rehashing it.
    “So, what did Walter say?”
    I gave her the Cliffs Notes version.
    “Holy crap!” Val said. “He said my mom’s a Healer? So she goes around laying hands on people and saying, ‘You are he-e-e-ealed !’”
    “You forgot to go into a trance and have a seizure.”
    “I’ll work on that. And he tried to scam copies? What an asshole. What’s a Protector?”
    “And I quote, ‘A Protector is one who protects,’” I said. “Dunno who you’re supposed to be protecting though.”
    “Well you, obviously.” She grinned. “Did he tell you what you are? Am I a Protector of a magical dessert princess? Do I bow in your presence? Fell the evil bakers that try to topple your confectionary empire?” She was smiling so much her nose crinkled.
    “You’re supposed to be my personal assistant too. So much potential for you.” I thought back to my meeting. “He didn’t tell me what I am.”
    “Do you think if we activate our Wonder Twin powers we could rid the world of evil?”
    We both laughed.
    Val was sipping her drink, belly full, a content smile on her small lips. I stretched and gathered my stuff.
    “Where’re you going?”
    “To your mom’s. I know I put you behind on some project and you’re itching to get to it. I’m sure the dating dilemma has wound down by now,” I said.
    “My staff can handle it. I called them when we left Walter’s house. I trust them to do the work.”
    “Uh huh. You’ll be in the office at the crack of dawn tomorrow to check up on them.”
    “Nope. Gonna do it from here in a little while.”
    “You’re bad. Thanks for dinner.”
    “Come on, stay a little while. I made brownies from scratch this morning.”
    “Are you threatening me?”
    “I messed up one time and you’ve never let me forget it. Jeez!”
    “Unsweetened chocolate and salt instead of sugar makes an unforgettable brownie, little sister.”
    “Yeah, well, these are good. And I have French vanilla ice cream to go with them. Plus, American Idol ’s on.” She bobbed her eyebrows at me. “The New York auditions.”
    It was like dangling a piece of cheesecake in front of me.
    “All right, a little while,” I said.
    And we headed into the living room to join the judges and a legion of hopeful singers.
    Val’s furniture was oversized, overstuffed, and way too comfortable. We took our regular spots on the couch, Val curled up on one end, and me with my legs stretched out on the other. I swear I only closed my eyes for a second as the soft warmth of a quilt floated over me.
    I slipped into a restful sleep.

    The aroma of coffee and bacon was my alarm clock the next morning.
    “You don’t play fair.” I smacked her on the back of the head on my way to the fridge. “You lull me into a false sense of security with food and drink and the chance to watch a few singing train wrecks, then you hit me over the head with a down quilt.”
    “Hey! Good morning to you too.” Her voice still deep with slumber. “How’d you sleep?”
    “Really good. Thanks.” I poured a glass of orange juice. “But you still set me up.”
    “Yep.” She smiled over her coffee mug. “And it worked beautifully too.”

I t was meeting time at casa de Guerrero. Val had let it slip that we’d gone to check out Walter’s store.
    “I would like to discuss Walter Young,” Mrs. Guerrero said.
    “What about him?”
    “I believe your parents and Mr. Young had some dealings in the past. I wanted to share my concerns with you about visiting him again.”
    I breathed out a bit of apprehension. “Yes, ma’am, but he said a few things.”
    Val rolled her eyes and I kicked her under the table.
    “Such as?”
    “That my mom was a Healer—and you were too. He called my father a Necromancer.” What a mouthful of weirdness. “He talked about magic like it was real … is he telling the truth?”
    It came out lamer than I thought possible.
    A small smile curved Mrs. G’s lips. She tried to