by Carla Thorne
“Wait.” Scout ducked into a room and pulled out an iPad. “Look,” he said and pointed to an article. “The first thing that popped up. Haitian Voodou: The most misunderstood of folk religions… Here’s another. Zombies and Voodoo Dolls: The real truth about bayou magic. That’s all I’m trying to tell you. This isn’t all mysticism and spooky urban legend. It’s history and heritage and widely misinterpreted religion.”
“So?”
“So, if you want to walk this back and explore, I’m sure we’ll find a way around you being doomed.”
“No, I don’t want to walk it back—and by the way you sound like my dad—and find out more about what my black-magic mother did to me when I was a baby. She probably offered me up to Satan himself on the altar of some witch doctor.”
“No, that’s my point. These religions seem weird to us, but don’t typically involve Satanic worship. In fact, most are connected to Catholicism in some way.”
“My great-grandfather—”
“Your great-grandfather was protecting you, Deacon. He used words like bad juju and gri-gri to scare you into staying away. Same as parents tell us our ears turn red when we’re lying or that if you swallow gum it takes seven years to digest. He was a preacher who didn’t want you near danger. He wanted you safe.”
Scout’s wise and pointed words seemed to hit Deacon like a train. He sank into the leather with his mouth hanging open.
I left the couch, and Ivy scooted closer as if to comfort him.
“Everyone hold on a minute,” I said. “Let’s think.”
I’d been convinced Shanar was responsible for Deacon’s torment, the same way he tormented me, but with different tactics. But while my own personal demon had reared its ugly head, the clawing feelings of dread seemed to have evaporated for the moment.
Something had shifted.
Which meant…
I rushed to Deacon. “Listen. We’ve already figured this out.”
He shot me a questioning side-eye. “Excuse me?”
“What did we just say?”
“That I’m doomed and going to hell?”
“No, Deac, that’s what you said. We all talked about how your hands do the whole flaming thing and it’s good.”
“How is this good?”
“It’s good because whatever happens with your hands is always positive. Think about it. It helps people. It doesn’t hurt them. It’s activated by your desire to fix something, not destroy it.”
Scout tossed the iPad and slid to the floor near us. “She’s right. You’re not cursed, Deacon.”
“Then what am I?”
“You’re gifted. You have abilities.”
Ivy went to work on her thumbnail while I let the truth sink in.
They didn’t know about Shanar, but he knew about them. I felt it.
Why? What did the others keep hidden that had brought us so strategically and often violently together?
For the first time, I wasn’t alone. Deacon wasn’t on the dark side being used by an evil force. He was on the same side as me.
The side that fought the battle against death.
We were in danger and chaos. The others just didn’t realize it yet.
Deacon shrugged. “I told you I don’t believe in that stuff. Y’all have been watching too many movies. Superpowers aren’t real.”
“Aren’t they, though? Mr. Berry seems to think you’re something special.”
Ivy glanced up from her nails as if she wanted to add to the discussion, but didn’t give us one clue as to what went on behind those big, terror-filled eyes of hers. “I really have to go.”
“Now? We’re just getting started.”
“I told you I wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what’s happening.”
I followed her to the door as she once again attempted to escape. “What aren’t you telling us, Ivy? Say it. Maybe it will help.”
Her automatic glance toward Scout told me all I needed to know. Those two had a secret. It was all wrapped up in how she knew about Mr. Berry and that car before it happened, but it sure wasn’t going to come out until she was ready.
I softened my approach. “Can you at least admit something’s going on here with the four of us?”
She swung her backpack at her side and didn’t look at me. “I agree Deacon’s not marked by Satan and doomed to hell. Mainly because I don’t know much about religion and heaven and hell and all that anyway. I don’t know what it is, but Deacon’s a good person and his hands help people.”
Scout stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Wait a sec, Scout.” I stepped toward him. “What do you really think? I know the whole doomed and cursed thing doesn’t work for you, and the superpower explanation is a little out there. Would you consider maybe he’s blessed?”
“You mean by God or something?”
“Yes, Scout, by God. The actual opposite of a curse is a blessing.”
“I don’t know… God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.”
The news of Scout’s crisis of faith stunned me for a sec. It made perfect sense given his horrible loss, but with his regular attendance at church and youth group, it’d looked more like he was leaning into his faith rather than turning away. Apparently, he had one foot out the church door. “OK then, the great karmic universe or the Creator or some other positive powerful force.”
“I don’t know either, Mary. I still think he needs to see a doctor.”
I spun to face Deacon as they left. “Can you believe those two?”
“What do you want from them? I freaked ‘em out. They don’t know what to do.”
“Nobody knows what to do, Deac, but we should keep talking.”
“About what? I told you I’m doomed.”
“And I’m telling you you’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know. You’re not one of the bad guys, Deac, you’re one of the good guys. That gift you have is for a higher purpose.”
He sprang from his seat and tossed a pillow across the room. “What higher purpose? I don’t even know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what this is like.”
I stepped over a pizza box and collapsed on the couch. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know a lot about this, and I’m pretty sure Scout and Ivy do too. They just have no idea what they’re looking at.”
“You’re literally giving me a headache, Mary. I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“What I’m saying is you should brace yourself because right now, until Scout and Ivy catch on, it’s only you and me, and we need to prepare.”
“For what?”
“For a battle, of course.”
“That explains everything.”
“I’m serious. We’re in for a fight.” I searched for my own box of pizza. I’d worked up a powerful appetite trying to convince my friends we were well beyond the earthly realm and into the supernatural. I’d barely scratched the surface of comprehending it myself, and it was going to take a lot of heated discussions before everyone understood.
Deacon slid my box across the cushion. “OK, pineapple pizza lover, who do you think we’re up against?”
“Never met them in the flesh. Only in the spirit world. I only suspect what they really are. We haven’t been formally introduced.” I slapped two slices on a plate. “But I named them years ago because I had to call them something.”
“You’re really scaring me now, Mary.”
“Don’t be scared. Remember you have a gift. You have a weapon, and together we’re strong. We win.”
“And who are these enemies we’re strong enough to fight?”
“Shanar and the Saint Slayers,” I said.
And then I took a bite.
Chapter 15
Scout
I didn’t like the way it felt when I returned to the room. Frenzy hung in the air, but no one spoke. Deacon, Mary, and I finished off some pizza, but no one wanted to c
ontinue our bizarre conversation without Ivy. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want to talk about Ivy behind her back either, but still, I wanted to know. I needed to know what was so off-balance in the universe that we were entertaining the wild idea that Deacon had a supernatural ability.
And yet, we didn’t speak of it.
We made small talk and sat on the other discussion as if resting on tectonic plates that shifted and crashed into each other beneath us, about to crack the earth and swallow us whole.
That brought me panic and uneasiness to the point where my pizza didn’t want to stay down without a fight. I couldn’t blow chunks next door in my bathroom with my friends in the house, so I breathed deep until the nausea passed.
Later, long after they were gone, I hit my mattress with the usual dread.
I didn’t pray anymore or try to meditate. Instead, I studied the charts, posters, and artwork on my walls. I looked at the angles, patterns, and distance between symbols and lines, and moved them around in my head until different things clicked. I studied characters from ancient languages and practiced various dialects in my head.
There was something totally messed up about English. America rocked, but when it came to language… I thought about that a while. When I spelled M-O-T-H, I read moth—the flying insect that comes out at night. So, I wondered, why M-O-T-H-E-R wasn’t pronounced moth-er? How did it get to be mother—like a mom? All I knew was the Koreans had it right with their southern Hangul and their northern Chosŏngŭl, and I had to think on things like that at night to keep all the other stuff hidden away.
My grandma came to say goodnight. She stroked my hair and I acted like I didn’t want her to do it, but secretly wished she’d also scratch my back. Mercifully, she’d either given up or lost track of her determination to keep me electronic-free at bedtime. That was for the best. I needed reading, studying, video games, chatting, scrolling, and swiping to keep me occupied. If my mind was engaged, I was less likely to dwell on my loss.
Then she whipped essential oils out of her pocket. I smiled inside as I remembered my dad always called her a hippie.
She’d shush him. Knock it off. This is the Great Spirit’s plant juice… You know our bodies and our earth provide all we need to stay well, but we’re too busy with chemicals to remember that. We should all get back to the basics…The Native Americans knew what they were doing with roots and flowers and trees… God provided all we need…
Then my dad would kiss her cheek. OK, hippie.
Sure enough, as she watched me touch my stomach, she pulled out the peppermint and rubbed a couple of drops on my abdomen. She followed that with lavender on my wrists and behind my ears, and cedarwood across my forehead to help me sleep. I was pretty sure no one ever needed to know about any of that.
When she went downstairs, I heard her voice over the TV as she went on and on to my grandpa about the cutest little dark-headed, brown-eyed girl I seemed smitten by.
Smitten? What an odd word.
I closed my eyes and recited countries in my head as I walked my way across a map in my mind.
Then I contemplated Deacon’s hot hands.
And said goodnight to my mother, father, and brother—wherever they were in the afterlife.
I pictured the dark-haired, brown-eyed girl as I fell asleep.
Chapter 16
Ivy
I didn’t care about homecoming.
Apparently, everyone else did.
So much so, the choir and band directors stopped by the Drama Club meeting to talk with us and our theater teacher about making sure all the bases were covered. Everything was up in the air until the announcement of the homecoming court was made the next morning. Turns out the enrollment in our medium-sized private school allowed for a lot of overlap in participation. Between the royal court, the football players, the band’s halftime show, the choir, and now the added commendation ceremony… Let’s just say a trio of frazzled teachers was about to resort to the least favorable of all options—allowing lowly freshmen to participate in bigger ways than usual. Like a chance to sing the national anthem so the whole small choir didn’t have to show up and then rush to their other responsibilities. And God forbid there was an actual football game between all the other ridiculous pomp and circumstance that was the crowning of the homecoming queen.
Who everyone knew would be Paige Ryan.
I was happy to talk with Corey while we all waited for the enormously important discussion—gag—to rage on. I’d been worried about her since the fire fiasco. I knew a bullying victim when I saw one, and I couldn’t shake the look of pain and desperation on Corey’s face when Paige sent her packing.
“Your hair looks great,” I said.
And it did. The length of it alone was staggering, and it’d been braided into a long rope down her back. The bright yellow straw was gone, and the warm honey color was even from root to tip. A costly color correction I assumed was courtesy of Paige Ryan. But why? And why was it so important for Corey to please Paige?
“Thanks,” she said, and the girl was literally beaming as she spoke of her trip to Paige’s salon for the star treatment.
“What was all that about that night, anyway? What is that arrow club thing?”
Corey’s hand froze over the journal she brought to take notes. “Why? I thought you’d been invited to join. You were there.”
“I was there by accident. I think.”
“Well, Paige is very particular about who joins the Arrows.” Corey’s half-hearted attempt at a smug smile teased her lips. She just couldn’t pull it off like a naturally talented snob. She didn’t have it in her. But she tried. “It’s invitation only. She only chooses a few freshmen. I can’t say any more. I thought you were one of those who were formally invited.”
“But I was there, just not by formal invitation. So, I expect it to be official soon.”
Who the heck was I trying to be? I didn’t care about Paige and her Arrows, but I cared about Corey, and even Trinity. And there was that thing Deacon said about Mr. Parrington and his list.
Corey placed the pen at her lips. “Paige did talk to you in the cafeteria…”
“See? It’s only a matter of time, so whatever information you can give me…” I leaned closer. “And I’m concerned because she was pretty harsh to you that night.”
Corey pulled her braid around and touched the perfectly tucked ends. “That’s nothing. It’s because I’m a freshman. We do all the grunt work the first year and work our way up. We do things for Paige and the other seniors.”
“But you just admitted the problem with that. Paige is a senior. She won’t even be here next year.”
“Well, no, but someone will take her place and we all move up.”
“Move up where? To a place where you can be ugly to people below you?”
Anger sparked in the amber flecks of her brownish-gold eyes. I’d gone too far.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “Paige does good things for us too. No one bullies me now because of the Arrows. And you saw what I’d done to my hair. Paige took care of that.”
I bit my tongue. In return for what? That wasn’t a club, it was a cult.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in hopes of keeping our connection alive. I chose my words carefully. “I was concerned about the way things happened that night. I thought she hurt your feelings and you didn’t get to stay for the meeting.”
“That’s because I broke the rules. It won’t happen again.”
Yep. Cult. Corey had traded one kind of bully for another more dangerous emotional bully and she didn’t even know it. What exactly was all the grunt work the Arrows had vulnerable girls like Corey doing? I had no idea, but every deep and gut-wrenching feeling I had pointed to disaster for her.
A weird sensation overcame me and deep sadness washed across my whole body. I blinked and glanced at Corey’s small frame and beautiful hair. The view of her morphed from her actual appearance to that of a spiritual being, something airy and light at
first, and then something darker. As the unidentifiable blob evaporated, it was not Corey I saw.
It was a near-dead fragile plant with its blossom, limp and dangling, and about to fall completely over.
I gasped and coughed when I couldn’t breathe for a sec.
“Ivy, you OK?”
“Yeah, sure. I choked on my own spit, I think. Allergies. You got a mint or something?”
I had no idea what I was saying, but I rambled until Corey came squarely into view.
“Listen, Corey. You be careful with the Arrows. The meanness…”
She shrugged and pulled a pack of Tic Tacs from her purse. “It’s nothing. It’s their initiation.”
“It looks a lot like hazing, and there’s a big fat warning about that in the student handbook. The veteran cheerleaders aren’t even allowed to fake kidnap the new ones anymore because somebody hyperventilated when they snuck into some girl’s house and put a pillowcase on her head. Her parents threatened to sue the school. Can you believe that?”
I was rambling again because of sheer terror. Terror for me and my hallucinations, terror for Corey.
“I’m fine,” Corey insisted.
“Sure. You’re fine. Can I say one more thing?”
“Yes.” She turned to look at me, but it was clear she wanted to move on.
“All I want to say is call me if you need me. If Paige really upsets you or if you’re in over your head, call me.”
“I’m fine.”
“OK, you’re fine. But promise you’ll call me if you need me.”
“All right, I promise.”
“Ivy? Corey? Did you hear me?
“No, sir,” Corey said. “Ivy had to cough. Sorry.”
“You two will sing tomorrow to decide who gets to perform the national anthem. Either one of you will have time because it’s at the beginning of the festivities. Then Ivy you’ll be free for your commendation ceremony and either of you will have plenty of time if you’re chosen as the freshman representative on the homecoming court.”