Snapping my fingers impatiently to rid them of the tingling feeling prickling through my knuckles, I’m as surprised as everyone else when golden sparks flicker off my hands.
“What the hell?” Tomas shouts, leaning forward for a better look at me.
From the sofa, Eden grins and sets down the beads. “Now that’s cool, I’ve been telling you that you were a witch, Nix! You feel it now?”
“I felt it before,” I scowl, “but I didn’t expect magic to drip off my fingertips!”
“Technically, they sparked, they didn’t drip.” Ramona points at my hands, staring curiously. “Did that hurt? Can you do it again? Ooh, you should see if you can set something on fire! Here let’s try it!”
“No,” Tomas snaps, taking the sheet of paper she was in the middle of trying to offer me. “Let’s not.”
Blushing, I hide my hands and stare at Frank. He’s the only one not interested in the increasing oddity I’ve become. Clicking his claws at me, he scuttles across a photo to rest on a bed of paper napkins.
Seeming to sense my embarrassment, Tomas very loudly asks everyone what they’d like for dinner and picks an argument with Ramona about the music. At least the attention isn’t on me anymore. Even if they won’t shut up.
Retreating to mine and Eden’s room, where we’ve been taking turns sleeping on the bed and in a sleeping bag on the floor, I make my way to the window. The graveyard mint is flourishing even in the winter, and as I stare out the clouded glass, the twinkling lights outside blur in and out of focus. Ramona was right about one thing; I can’t pretend death doesn’t affect me.
I miss my dad. And I’m scared of dying.
But there’s nothing I can do about either of those things. The only thing I can do right now is strive to make sure all my friends stay alive, even if that means cementing myself in a relationship, I’m not ready for. Friend or not, how does anyone just choose someone to spend the rest of their life with?
Ramona or Tomas? The Nix twins said I’d need to choose the one that bettered me, but does anyone really do that? Isn’t that sort of accomplishment up to me? But if I choose wrong... Well, I just won’t think about it right now.
“ADDIE!” TOMAS HISSES from the doorway.
A thin sliver of light shines in from the hallway, and Eden rolls over in her sleep, scrunching her nose up. Sitting up, I squint at his dark form, and he calls my name again.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, my voice a hoarse whisper. I can’t think of any other reason he’d be waking me up at two in the morning.
Instead of answering, he jerks his head to the side and motions me to join him outside the room. Complying, I carefully step over Eden and pick my way to the door, a knot of anxiety churning in my gut. When I reach him, two things are immediately obvious; one his eyes are gleaming excitedly, and two, he’s fully dressed to go outside.
“I have an idea,” he tells me excitedly. Whatever it is seems to be a good thing, judging by the way his lips turn up at the sides.
“What?” I demand groggily. My head is hurting, my mouth feels fuzzy, and I wish I were still asleep.
“We’re going to the basement,” he informs me. “Tonight. Grab some clothes and let’s go before we wake anybody up.”
A fizzing feeling pushes through my stomach and chest, waking me up completely as I process what he's saying. Campus hasn’t fully emptied yet, but today was the last day of finals so it’s beginning to. The construction sites are sure to be less guarded than usual.
Fully awake now, I blink at him rapidly, pulling other details from his appearance. A thick coat covers his shoulders, a dark stone hangs from an iron chain around his neck, and there’s a saltshaker in one of his hands and what appears to be bolt cutters in the other.
“Shouldn’t the others come with us?” I argue quietly.
He shakes his head and leans closer to me, until the edge of his jacket sleeve is brushing against my thin, cotton top. I duck my chin to block my breath, and snap my mouth shut.
“Eden’s too much of a risk, and Ramona is, well she’s Ramona. I think we’ll be better on our own.”
Doubt settles in my chest even as I push it away, considering his words with a grain of salt. He’s right... but something still feels off about going alone. Like I’m liable to mess something up.
“Are you sure they won’t get mad?”
Again, he shakes his head. “If we hurry, we’ll be gone and back again before they even notice we’re gone.”
“Okay,” I agree. “But send a text to Terra. If something goes wrong, I want at least one person to know where we are.”
Silently, I slip back into the bedroom and fumble around for clothes, all too aware of Tomas’ waiting impatiently outside the door. In tightly laced Docs and the darkest coat I own, I dart into the bathroom to pin my hair up and brush my teeth before throwing a scarf around my neck. For being hardly an hour away from home, Blackwood is colder than what I’m used to, and there’s a threat of a freeze tonight.
Once I’m ready, I join Tomas out in the living room, where he hands me my own saltshaker and the small bag I’d put together with Eden, full of spells made from herbs and stones. Again, a prickle of doubt hits me. I’m only half witch... it will be a miracle if I can pull this off. Even if my magic will work on command, I’m sure to be left with a ringing headache.
“You ready?” Tomas asks as we settle into his vehicle.
A staticky ball of panic is swirling in my chest, but I nod anyway. “Yeah. Of course, I am. Let’s get this over with.”
Following him down a dim, moonlit hall easily reminds me of the first time we met, and how quickly things went wrong. Of course, maybe if I’d trusted him at the beginning, we wouldn’t be here now with as many problems as we do. Chewing on my bottom lip, I pick at my cuticles as we walk, wondering when exactly Eden came into her magic. It must have been sometime between graduation and when we found her journals— I would have noticed any sooner. How quickly did it settle? How soon will mine sink in?
The heat on this side of the building is turned off for the night, leaving my breath to turn to fog before my face. My fingers are nearly numb, and what little feeling I do have in them is translating as pain. Scurrying to keep up with Tomas’ quick pace, I grit my teeth and do my best to control my shivering. If we do run into our hag tonight, I don’t know whether I should be more scared of her, or the accompanying hypothermia her presence is sure to bring.
The miniscule door is as peculiar as ever, and I manage a weak laugh when we reach it; someone has taped a cartoon drawing of the Cheshire cat on it. It certainly does feel like I’m tumbling into Lewis Caroll’s Wonderland, because the moment we squeeze through the doorway, the door slams shut on its own, locking us in.
Holding back a strangled squeak, I bump into Tomas, and he seems just as alarmed. He swiftly pulls me to his side, and though I can't hear his heart beating beneath his coat, his breath is shallow and rapid, and I can imagine his heart going just as fast as mine is.
Straining to see in the dark, I’m relieved that there's no trace of unnaturally shifting shadows or wisps of violet. Even if supernatural energy did cause the door to shut, the hag isn't with us. Not yet anyway.
“Come on,” I urge Tomas. Leading the way, I experiment with snapping my fingers at different speeds until finally, the tips of my fingers light up like golden sparklers on New Year’s Eve.
Not daring to draw anything out by switching on a flashlight, we feel our way down the stairs with only the flickering sparks in my hand to guide us. Tomas stays neatly at my side the entire time, refusing to let even an inch pass between us. In any other circumstance, I’d be mortified, but I’d be a fool to deny the comfort his nearness brings. Wandering the dark is the type of thing that chills a soul, and I’m very near frozen to my core.
As we walk, new sounds reach our ears; creaking and footsteps, and much to our surprise, speaking. Grasping each other’s hands tight, we duck into a new refinished classroom, and Toma
s throws a layer of some type of cloaking spell over us. Everything I see is a light shade of pink, and it reminds me of playing in sheer curtains when I was a child.
“I’ve been reading the cards for weeks!” A low voice is complaining. His words are clipped with agitation and peering through the illusion Tomas has covered us with, I see the long-haired mage pacing the dark hall. “They keep leading me back to these rooms,” he’s complaining on the phone, “and I’ve got them sealed off alright, but I can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something.”
Tomas squeezes my hand, and I tighten my grip in return. Every time we set out to find the hag, we run into this guy. I just can’t figure out his angle.
He groans and snaps, “We’ve gone over that already. No, no,” he continues, “there’s no sign of painted symbols down here. Why would she think that?”
His words remind me of two things: Eden’s squiggly handwriting covering page after page in her notebooks, and the wretched whisper from the hag about painting my skull. No one would ever know, she’d said.
Pulling on Tomas’ arm, I pull him around the mage and back up the stairs again. I have an idea.
Breaking into the art studios is easier than I’d thought it would be, thanks to Tomas’ bolt cutters.
“Who knew they’d lock up these rooms so securely,” I whisper. Sliding my hand across a worktop, my fingertips come away with streaks of graphite and charcoal.
“It’s a good thing I came prepared,” shrugs Tomas, “remind me again why we’re up here.”
“Our ghost is fixated on two things: painting skulls, and smiles... whatever that means.”
“And you know this because?” He asks, whirling a spare plastic gourd in his hand.
“Because when we got separated in the in-between, that’s what she made obvious. And put that down, you’re going to throw off someone’s project.”
“Okay. Now what? We stay away from the mage and start looking at...” he leans over the still life set up in the center of the room and frowns, “fake fruits?”
“No!” I scowl, swatting the gourd from his hands. “Look for anything to do with smiles or skulls.”
“Addie? It’s been nearly twenty years; do you really think something like that is going to stay in these classrooms for that long?”
A beam of light falls across a dusty photo on the wall and my breath catches in my throat. The same wrinkled face of our spirit, albeit actually human looking, is watching from behind the glass. She was the head of the art department.
“Yes,” I answer, my throat tightening as I force the words out. “I think it would.”
Pointing the portrait out to Tomas, I struggle to stop shivering, pulling my coat more tightly around my torso. Moving cautiously into the connected studio, I cringe as the distorted silhouettes of the ceramics room imitate hulking profiles. Tomas, close behind, swears as he crosses the threshold but refuses to stay behind.
The space is far larger than I’d expect for such a small university, and the shadows in the corners of the room do nothing to ease our discomfort. My breath floats out as mist and I’m certain that it's only Tomas’ cloaking spell that's keeping us from being found by the mage, the hag, or even just security guards. The problem is there’s no telling how long it will take before the spirit sees through it like last time.
Finally, Tomas jerks me to a stop in front of a display case hidden behind twisting renditions of central American animals. The hair on the backs of my arms stands straight up, and the chill at my neck is so strong, I have to shake my head and raise my shoulders to ignore it.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” He asks.
In front of us is a tall, narrow case filled with skulls painted in every color imaginable. What was once most likely a Day of the Dead piece is terrifying here in the dark of the room. Two things about it stand out. One, not a single skull boasts its lower jaw, and two... a least a half dozen of them are glowing faintly violet.
“We found them,” I breathe.
My breath hits the glass and fogs over an empty eye socket, deepening the shadow of the stark skull staring straight at me. Tomas’ joke from earlier seems far less amusing now as I consider how many students must have walked through this space, never even knowing they worked alongside the remains of their friends.
Reaching a hand out to touch the display case, I slide one fingertip across the glass, tracing a skull. Images of broken tiles flash in my head, brilliantly painted and glinting in sunlight. There’s a distorted reflection across the tiles I can’t make out, and then Tomas’ hand is tightening around my shoulder.
Instead of cement, the scraping of a sharp metal comes across the tile, screeching as it slides. Whispers of pain and torment echo through my ears, and as I freeze with my hand still on the glass, Tomas urges me to run. My feet are stuck in place and in horror as the growing silhouette of a woman comes into view.
Cursing violently, Tomas swipes his arm at the backs of my knees, knocking my legs out from beneath me. Catching me smoothly, he jostles me against his chest, and moves as quickly as he can in the opposite direction. Every turn we make seems to be a dead end, until a half open door behind a kiln empties us out onto a fire escape.
Without setting me down, Tomas shifts so suddenly the only thing I can process is the light of the moon and a sudden presence of feathers. I’m caught in his talons and up in the air faster than I can protest, my stomach turning over and my eyes wrenching shut as the ground turns into a blur beneath us. I may be alive, but I’m definitely going to get sick.
He stops at the car, setting me on my feet before landing himself and it takes me several seconds before I’m coherent enough to speak.
“You, don’t do that!” I sputter at him, resting my palms against the hood and shaking so much I can barely see straight. “How do people not, how do people not, not see that?”
Tomas wraps an arm around me comfortably, and I shudder again, remembering feathers, but mainly the height.
“Illusion magic, remember?” He says. Guiding me to the passenger’s seat, he helps me in and locks the door. As if that’s going to help against a ghost.
Panic— 1.
Addie— 0.
Except I did learn one thing. Most of what’s left of the missing students are ground up in broken tiles somewhere. I just need to find out where.
Chapter Nineteen
A SINGLE TEXT FROM Terra chimes onto my phone just as we’re pulling up to the duplex, and it’s too late.
They’re awake. You’re on your own.
—T
The faint glow of lights on in the living room make that fact obvious, and even if it weren’t, the sight of a very puffed-up grackle on the front porch serves as a warning. Hopping back and forth across the porch rail, the bird tilts his head at us, cackling loudly.
“Hopper,” I groan. My stomach is still weak, but my legs are sturdy enough to stand again. I just don't want to. “She’s going to be so mad!”
“It’s Ramona,” Tomas replies. “She’s always mad. What’s the worst that can happen?”
With her pale eyes blazing and her tangled waves falling over her face, Ramona isn’t just menacing, she’s ferocious looking. Tomas shuts the door casually, and caught between the two siblings, I look hopefully to Eden for help. No luck there, though. She’s bright red with fury and her fists shake at her sides.
“You went without me?” Ramona shouts. “I’ve been dying to take care of this mess for how long, and you went without me?”
“Never mind that,” Eden snaps. Shoving her short hair away from her face, she resembles an angry strawberry. “Look at my face!” She points at her still raised scars. “Do you want to end up looking like this?”
Tears flow down her cheeks, knocking me into a rapid state of guilt as I rush to her side.
“I’m so sorry, Eden,” I murmur. “I wasn’t thinking about how worried you’d be.”
Pushing me away, she lashes out with sharp words. “Of course, you didn�
��t. You never think about how I feel. It’s always what you think is best.”
Ramona and Tomas halt their squabbling as Eden's voice rises, shocking us all.
“You dated Ellis right after he turned me down like nothing. Even though I asked you first. And then you got Sabrina as a roommate even though we’d planned on being roommates since middle school! And now? You don’t even care that this thing wants to kill me. You just want to prove that you’re another special Nix with some kind of freaky power over the dead.”
“That’s not true!” Gaping at her, confusion, and guilt wash over me as I try to make sense of her words.
“Yeah?” Eden huffs. “Then maybe next time you feel like taking on an evil spirit, you’ll remember you’re not the only one being haunted.”
My heart kicks up a notch as I shut my mouth to glare at her. My chest is hot and full of anger, and my hands curl into fists so tight, my nails dig into my skin.
“I know that,” I growl, doing my best to keep from yelling. “Trust me, I know that. Why else do you think I’m living here?”
At my words, both Ramona and Tomas flinch, and in less than five minutes, I’ve managed to hurt everyone I live with.
“Wait,” I beg, waving my hands, “that’s not what I meant!”
“Are you positive about that? Because it sounds like your message is loud and clear,” Ramona retorts. There’s rejection in her eyes as she slumps in place and drops her gaze to the floor. “Whatever, I get it. Good night.”
She drags her feet down the hall, and as her door clicks shut, Eden decides to bow out as well. It’s just me and Tomas, standing four feet apart and staring in opposite directions. Even Frank, at my wrist, has decided to duck his head to avoid the awkwardness.
“So, uh, I guess that’s the worst that could happen?” I try to joke.
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