Chapter 18—Shock Wave

Jesse raced downstairs to the kitchen, late as usual after his call to Nikki and Chaz on the DSC. He and his cousins were dining casually tonight because the inn was hosting an exclusive dinner party to honor a famous British author Jesse had never heard of.

He walked into the kitchen and was surprised to see his dad sitting there with a look on his face that struck fear in Jesse's heart. It started pumping—hard. The twins were already at the table, quivering like leaves in a strong breeze. Jesse looked around; none of the staff was there, which was odd.

"Hi, Dad. What are you doing here? I thought the famous writer was coming tonight."

"He is, but later. I wanted to have a word with you and your cousins." Jonathan's voice was harsh, totally unlike him.

"No problem, Dad. What's up?" Jesse attempted to sound casual, and more importantly, not guilty.

"Let's sit," Jonathan suggested, and walked over to the long wooden table. He pulled out a chair and sat at its head. The twins were at the other end, so Jesse moved to the middle, far enough away to steer clear of his dad's apparent anger, but close enough to the girls to lend support, for what he wasn't sure.

Jonathan spoke. "It's come to my attention that you and the girls have been trespassing in the mine. I'm reluctant to use a word as strong as stolen, but that's how it was reported to me—that you've stolen something from there, something that doesn't belong to you, which you now have in your possession. Am I correct?"

Jesse's heart sank and he caught his breath. How was he going to explain what was really going on? A crystal angel and a quest? His dad, the NASA scientist, would never believe such an improbable tale. Heat crept up his neck and his ears felt hot. He glanced at the twins, whose faces had turned beet red. Even Le Nez hid under the table, whining—guilty as charged. They were all guilty in a way.

Jesse struggled for an answer. How much should he tell? Where would he even start? So much had happened since meeting the crystal angel. And who had squealed? Daniel? Monsieur Voyeux? Madame Villars, who was a part-time witch? Maybe Nikki was right; they shouldn't have trusted her.

Jonathan interrupted Jesse's thoughts. "Son, I think you owe us an explanation." He motioned toward his sister Celeste, who had appeared in the doorway. Her pretty face was compressed into worry lines. Dressed for a formal dinner, she pulled nervously on her long chain of pearls. For a moment, the clinking white nuggets were the only sound in the room. The dog moaned, and Jesse felt walls close in as he sealed his lips shut.