Free The Calling by Cate Tiernan Page A

or even Yours, Hunter. Just plain Hunter. Very romantic.
    Mr. Warren rushed out of the apartment, briefcase in hand, and Bree came into the living room. “What’s up?”
    I showed her Hunter’s note. Bree made a face. “I wanted to go the coffee shop downstairs and get some breakfast. But I guess we’ll wait.”
    So we waited. Raven emerged from the guest room in yet another skintight black outfit. She seemed a little annoyed that Sky was still out. Bree and Robbie weren’t talking, I noticed, and Robbie was doing his best to pretend he was okay about it. He headed out, saying a little too casually that he wanted to do some exploring on his own. First, though, we agreed that we’d all meet up for lunch at a deli on the Upper West Side at two that afternoon.
    Ten-thirty came and went. By eleven Hunter and Sky still hadn’t come back, and Bree and I were dying to get out, get food, do something besides sit around the apartment. And I was getting worried.
    Finally I sent Hunter a witch message. But after ten minutes he hadn’t responded. My pulse rate picked up a little. Was he okay?
    â€œWell?” Raven asked.
    â€œNothing,” I said, trying to keep my voice calmer than I felt.
    â€œThat boy has really got to join the twenty-first century and get a cell phone,” Bree said.
    I sent another, more emphatic witch message to Hunter, trying to determine if he was okay.
    After a moment I got a response from Sky: We’re fine. That was it. Hunter didn’t bother to reply at all. Again I couldn’t help a surge of irritation. Maybe I wasn’t being rational about this, but it sure felt like I was being shut out.
    â€œI just heard from Sky,” I told the others. “They’re okay. But I don’t think they’re going to be back for a while.”
    â€œThen let’s shop,” Bree said.
    Raven yawned. “I’m going back to bed,” she announced. “I am not a morning person.”
    Half an hour and two pastries later, Bree and I stood on the cast-iron steps of Diva’s on West Broadway. I’d been there once before, but even if you lived in Widow’s Vale and had never been to the city, you knew about Diva’s. It was a mecca for the young and broke.
    Bree led the way inside the huge warehouse of a store. Rap blared from the speakers. There were stacks of T-shirts in every color of the rainbow; pants in reds and blues and petal pinks; sweatshirts in olive green, neon yellow, and baby blue.
    Bree started poking through the vintage racks and found a man’s long-sleeved black shirt with gray pearl buttons. “Maybe I should buy this for Robbie,” she mused. Unlike the rest of us, Bree had a generous allowance.
    I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Bree, do you or do you not like that boy?”
    She looked at me, startled. “I told you. I’m completely crazy about him.”
    â€œWell, then please stop treating him like crap!” I said. “It’s painful to watch.”
    Bree put the shirt back and calmly moved on to a rack of trendier clothing. “If you want to know the truth,” she said, “it’s Robbie who should be treating me better.”
    â€œWhat?” I stared at her.
    â€œAt the club last night,” she said. “He danced and flirted with all those women.”
    â€œThree, and they all came on to him,” I argued.
    â€œDon’t blame them. It’s Robbie’s responsibility to say no,” said Bree. “If he really wants to be with me, why did he encourage them?”
    â€œMaybe because he wasn’t getting any encouragement from you?” I suggested. “Come on, Bree. You had your own little entourage over by the café. What kind of message did that send? Besides, you know none of those women mattered. Robbie doesn’t care about anyone except you. Can’t you see that?”
    Bree held up a slinky black cocktail dress.