Page 18 of Mud

Twenty-five minutes later, Grandma arrived home with David Hill in tow and found Poppy and me in her office, just as she requested.

The thing about Madeline was that she always got her way.

Well,almostalways.

She liked it when people did what she said. She liked it when she spoke and people jumped to their feet and broke their necks to do exactly what she wanted. She liked it when people didn’t talk back, and people never really did. They just simply followed her lead because she did know what she was doing. If it was in her interest, too, she could make people’s lives very,verygood.

Her employees always listened. What she calledfriendsalways listened. Her family always listened.

The only one whohadn’tlistened had been my mother, who’d chosen to marry my father for love rather than the man Madeline had chosen for her, someone handsome and rich and powerful. My mother had married my father without Madeline’s blessing, and to this day I am convinced that she never quite forgave her daughter for daring to do what she wanted with her life. It’s the reason why she hated me and why she adored Poppy becausehermother had married the man Madeline had chosen for her, no questions asked.

She liked them big and powerful and really, really rich—something like the man who was entering through the polished doors to her office right now.

David Hill, a Whitefire mage, who’d climbed the ladder from a simple IDD agent and been elected Director the same day that Madeline retired. He still came to her for consults, though, and she still called him for pretty much everything. There was nothing Madeline couldn’t do, really. In some ways, she remained the director of the IDD to this day, and she thanked her power for it. She could throw fourth-degree spells at you with ease, and that was no small thing. Everybody knew it.

Come to think of it,that’swhy everybody always tended to do whatever she said…

“Girls, so happy you could join us,” Grandmother said, her crisp, dark-red suit without a wrinkle in sight, even though she’d worn it the whole day. Her hair was a gorgeous silver, her big eyes the same color as Poppy’s, her smile that of a snake—if snakes wore red lipstick. “You remember David, don’t you? Say hello, go on.” And she waved behind her at the man wearing a silver-white suit and a big, faker-than-fake smile all over his handsome face.

Dark hair slightly greyed round his ears. Grey eyes and sharp cheekbones, freshly shaved skin.

He looked like he’d walked in here straight out of a Hollywood movie set.

“Hello, Mr. Hill. So good to see you again,” Poppy said with a curtsy, and then it was my turn.

“Hello, Mr. Hill,” was all I said as I curtsied the same way. Ihadn’tseen him before, so I didn’t really have anything else to suffocate the momentary silence with.

“It’s good to see you, too, girls. You’ve grown so much,” Hill said, and he barely glanced at me, his focus on Poppy. Couldn’t blame him.

Grandmother put her purse on her desk and came closer to where we were waiting in front of one of the velvet couches on the left of her office, put her arm around Poppy’s shoulders, and told Hill, “I think she’s ready.”

Grandmother had been working with Poppy for hours at a time sometimes, and all Poppy told me about it was that Madeline was teaching her the art of gathering information and uncovering secrets—basically what the undercover agents in my books tended to do. At first, I thought it was so cool and I was envious, not going to lie. But one thought of working one-on-one with Madeline and I quickly began to thank the goddess that it was Poppy who had to go through that instead.

“I’m certainly happy to hear it,” said Hill. “Can we sit down together, Penelope?” And he waved at the armchairs that were in front of Grandma’s large desk in the middle of the room.

“Certainly,” she said—Madeline, not Poppy. And together, they made to go sit on the armchair. Madeline worked her magic with a simple whisper and her Redfire came to life to bring them the drinks from the other corner. Afloating tray was not something I hadn’t seen before, and it settled on the small table between them—honey-colored liquid for the adults and an orange juice for Poppy (her favorite).

Meanwhile I was left to stand there like a fucking idiot, without a clue of what to do, if I should get the hell out of there or not—please please please let me get out…

Madeline’s eyes met mine for a split second.Sit,she mouthed lightning fast.

I sat on the velvet couch behind me without a word.

Goddess, I wanted to get out of my own skin so badly.

On the outside, I looked perfectly okay, of course. There was nothing in the world Madeline hated more than drama—and she considered a flinchdramaanddisrespectful,so I kept it in. Besides, people never asked me if I was sad or if I missed my parents or if I was lonely since I’d learned to control my face. It had gotten so much easier so quickly.

But if I could, I’d scream at the top of my lungs right now—just let me out of here. Let me go back to my room, to my books. I don’t want to be in your presence, damn it! Let me go!

Those words remained on the inside, and the grownups—and Poppy—began to talk.

I had no idea what the hell was happening here, and I didn’t even want to know. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with me, but I was stuck in there listening anyway.

First, Hill only asked Poppy about school, her favorite subjects, her hobbies, her friends.

Then he began to tell her stories about the IDD, about the Headquarters that was right here in Baltimore, about the fearless agents who made themselves heroes every day by fighting bad guys and ensuring the rest of us were safe.

I’ll admit I was a bit drawn to the whole thing—it sounded so…nice.To have a purpose. To wake up forsomething. To go to bed knowing that you made a difference in someone’s life.

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