“You’re an outcast,” Anna said, “like I am. But I have Dor and Freddy. I have my dad.”
“You have me too,” Geneva said from behind her. “Now, go.”
Anna sucked in a huge lungful or air, taking perhaps the deepest breath of her life. Feeling Source well up inside her, ready to burst, she dug the tips of her sneakers into the wood and pushed herself off the platform, going airborne. That was when it screamed.
Splash. Anna hit the water arms first, head dipped in a perfect dive. She opened her eyes in the center of a mushroom cloud of energy that expanded in a flash so bright it should have blinded her, but didn’t sting her eyes at all. For a microsecond she was aware of the demon in the water. It was collapsing, flesh and energy, wave and particle, imploding into itself, annihilated.
Anna pushed off the bottom of the tank and swam upward, surrounded by clear blue water, taking another huge breath when she broke through the surface. The tank walls sparkled under Emi’s blue light, wet and clean from the explosion of purified water. Geneva beamed down at her from the platform edge, Jack standing next to her. He was swollen and drenched, but other than that he looked okay.
Minutes later, the sun cleared the horizon as Geneva, Jack and Anna emerged from the hatch. They were almost to their cars when the pumping station at the base of the tower rumbled to life. Good morning, Bloomtown.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Hangover
Coach Pickens was dead. A housecleaner found his body in the shower yesterday morning. The grisly news broke on Ocean County Crime, a website linking to local news in Portersville, Bloomtown, and a handful of other South Jersey towns. “Solar Flares Reach Peak, Then Fizzle Out!” was below the story about Pickens’s death; right under that was “Unprecedented Looting Ends in Bloomtown.” Anna scrolled down the page until she found the story she hoped nobody would follow up on: “Elderly Resident Claims Hooligans Climbed Water Tower.”
Eager to get back to school, Anna didn’t have time to fully process Pickens’ fate or the general aftermath of the solar flares. She threw on an acceptable outfit, went downstairs to the kitchen and found Jack washing dishes at the sink. Geneva stood next to him holding a dish towel.
“We thought you might want to take another day off,” Geneva said, taking a plate from Jack and drying it.
We? Jack and Geneva were now a “we” apparently. The two of them looked awkward as hell, like they were playing house, but it was still kind of cute.
“I changed my mind,” Anna said, exhausted but dying to see Dor and Freddy and catch up on the assignments she missed. Instead of going to school yesterday, she spent the day napping and, along with Jack and Geneva, running the taps in the house to flush out any remnants of the poisoned water.
Dor was staying at Freddy’s. Cindy was at the hospital in stable condition and expected to be discharged soon. Dor and Freddy skipped school yesterday, too, feeling queasy and exhausted. Freddy’s parents had also come down with a nasty “stomach bug,” and from his overly-detailed description, it was a veritable smorgasbord of gastrointestinal distress at Casa Simms.
In a series of texts rife with emojis, Anna had told her two friends about the water tower trip and ensuing demise of the demon. She’d also tended to Geneva and Jack who were both sick with night sweats and nausea. Anna felt tired but not ill, as if all the bad juju had been blasted out of her in the explosion of Source energy inside the tank, sparing her a painful detox.
She asked Jack for a ride to school, ignoring the surprise on his face. Anna usually declined his offers to drive her to school because his presence was an unwelcome reminder that she was the daughter of a ghost-busting weirdo.
As soon as Anna got into the car, she noticed that the mess in the backseat had been rearranged in an almost organized manner. The Ouija Queen sat on the dashboard.
“Is the spirit board going back to the client?” she asked.
“Nope, to the office. I’m setting up a new clearing station there.”
Anna eyed the Ouija Queen. That bratty little trickster was no doubt still bound to the spirit board inside.
“That’ll slide off once we start moving. I’ll hold it,” Anna said, bringing the Ouija Queen to her lap. Before Jack could protest, she said “Cleaning up a bit, I see.”
“Geneva thought it would be a good idea to get started with that first thing this morning.”
Any suggestion that he should clean up normally set Jack’s teeth on edge. Was it the portal free, fresh water vibe in Bloomtown that made him so agreeable, or the presence of a certain scientist from California?
“You’re into her, aren’t you?” Anna asked, as Jack pulled out of the driveway.
“Who?”
“Please.”
“Geneva is a special woman. But I want you to know that the relationship your mother and I had, well, it’s not something that can ever be replaced. Not something that I can easily move on from.”
“You can trust me on this one. Mom has moved on.”
He raised an eyebrow, but this wasn’t the time. She’d tell him the whole story later. Right now she had another agenda. Distracting Jack with small talk, Anna turned to the backseat, finding something small and secure enough for her needs. A small velvet bag that Jack used to hold vials of holy water. Relaxing back into her seat, she curled the velvet bag into one hand and placed the other on top of the Ouija Queen box. The vibrations came seconds later.
The power running through Anna’s body had dimmed considerably since the blast of Source energy in the water tank. But it was still there. She felt it inside her purring like a sleeping leopard. She only had to concentrate on her hand to send Source vibrations down into the box. The Trickster, she knew, would now be desperate to get out.
As Jack muttered condemnations of the other drivers navigating Route 33 rush hour, Anna placed the mouth of the velvet bag at the corner of the Ouija Queen box. She lifted the corner lid and closed the mouth of the velvet bag around the small opening.
The bag puffed as a blast of air blew into it. Anna pulled the drawstring, closing it tightly, and then encircled the bag with her hands. She sent another faint jolt of Source vibrations around the outside of the bag to keep the Trickster trapped inside.
Anna had Jack pull up to the curb directly in front of the school, and when a few kids stopped to gawk at them she rolled down her window and spoke loudly.
“Okay, Pops, see you later for the devil-worshipping session at five. You have your shovel, right? Have a good day at the graveyard. Remember, the fresher the better!”
Jack chuckled and the looky-loo kids moved on sheepishly. Anna hopped out of the car and then leaned back in the passenger-side window.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“I love you, Sweet Pea,” Jack said. “You know that, right?”
Jack didn’t know that those were her mother’s last words. The memories came: the blaring of a horn, stuck and broken, the smell of Mrs. Flanagan’s coat. But Anna didn’t resist them, and they passed through her like a rogue cloud on a sunny day.
“You, too,” Anna said.
It was just energy in motion. She was still okay, still Anna Fagan, also known as Goblin Girl, and that was good enough for her. Anna walked into Bloomtown High and across the cavernous commons. Craig Shine was leaning against a column in the cafeteria. He waved her over and Anna moved toward him, feeling Source energy humming through her body. Was her supercharged connection to Source permanent? Time would tell.
Craig’s eyes flitted about, finally landing on her face.
“Izzy got expelled,” he said, “for uploading that video from a school computer.”
“Yeah, I know,” Anna said. “A detective called my house yesterday and talked to my father. Principal Steuben, too.”
“Oh shit. I hope you didn’t get in trouble.”
“Why would I get in trouble?”
He stared back at her stupidly.
“If things are cool with us,” he said, fidget
ing with the silver studs on his leather jacket, “Mom’s out of town and we’re gonna play a set in the basement. You could come over tonight. That is…if things are cool.”
“I don’t hate you if that’s what you’re asking.”
Craig put his hands in his pockets and then took them out again. He was the nervous one now. Anna thought about what it might be like, listening to awful Manarchists music in a stuffy basement. She’d had it up to here with basements, but still she said, “Yeah, I’ll come.”
Craig said he’d text her his address, which Anna already knew by heart—she’d made Freddy and Dor drive by his house a couple times over the summer—but she kept that to herself.
“Did you hear about Pickens?” Craig asked. “They think he had a heart attack.”
“Bummer,” she said, without much sincerity, then spotted Dor and Freddy standing by her locker. She said goodbye to Craig and half-ran across the commons, giving them both a hug, breathing in the Freddy smell and Doreen’s abundance of citrusy perfume.
“Are you sniffing us?” Freddy asked, amused.
Anna shrugged and turned to Dor. “Any updates on Cindy?”
“She’ll be home in a couple days,” Dor said. “The wound in her back is still infected, but they’re pumping her full of antibiotics. She won’t stop apologizing, but I keep telling her it wasn’t her fault.”
Dor’s eyes glistened and Anna hugged her again.
“What did Shine want?” Freddy asked stiffly.
“He’s got cojones trying to talk to you after what he pulled,” Dor said.
“Not to worry,” Anna told them. “I’m handling it. You know, I was thinking tonight’s a great night for a space gaze. The aurora borealis is finally gone and we could get a good look at the stars.”
Freddy twisted his mouth like he was mulling it over. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“You do that. I’ll be over around nine. So, anyways”—Anna linked arms with her friends—“I was thinking. You two want to go into the family business with me? How about we start our own branch, maybe score a reality show. We could call ourselves the Paranormal Investigative Society—P.I.S. Thoughts?”
“Piss?” Freddy sounded dubious.
“Hmm,” Anna said, rubbing her chin. “It may need a little work.”
“It’s got potential, though!” Doreen said, blushing with excitement.
They walked down the hallway, turned a corner and ran right into Sydney, who was leaning against the old wood-shop door and tapping on her phone. Her Disney-princess eyes flared at the sight of them. Anna wondered if she’d heard about Pickens.
“Hey, slut,” Sydney said halfheartedly to Anna. “Flash anyone lately?”
“It was just a bra, Syd,” Anna said, facing her beautiful once-friend and whipping up her shirt. Anna had the “grandma special” on again today, but screw it. It was comfy. “Get over it.”
Sydney stared, her expression unreadable. Freddy and Dor erupted with laughter.
“Yeah, Syd,” Doreen said, giggling so much that she could hardly get the words out. “It’s just a bra.”
And with that, Doreen lifted her sweater and flashed her bra at Sydney, inadvertently exposing the two sweat-sucker pads that she’d attached to her under-sleeves.
Sydney furrowed her brow, confused.
And then Freddy did something incredible. He reached out, ripped the sweat-suckers from Doreen’s shirt and turned his back.
“Yeah, Syd,” he said, turning back around and lifting his sweatshirt. The sweat-suckers were strategically placed on his bare chest, sticky-side down. It was a maxi-pad bra. “Get over it already!”
The three of them laughed harder than they had in a while, maybe ever, holding on to each other while intermittently gasping for air. And then Sydney actually did seem to get over something—perhaps that echo chamber inside her that whispered boys will be boys until her heart had turned to granite. Maybe since they clearly had no shame, some of Sydney’s shame, too, was released like a cloud of noxious gas. Instead of pointing her cell at them or calling for one of her cronies, Sydney rolled her eyes, suppressing the beginnings of a smile, and stalked off.
• • •
Craig’s New Bloomtown basement was furnished with all the latest accessories his parents’ guilt could buy. But despite the plush carpeting, super-sized TV and game consoles, it still smelled like mold. Craig had been bellowing the same verse for several minutes, spraying spit all over his microphone as his band thrashed away behind him.
Cattle people in the schools
Cattle people in the cubes
Cattle people in my head
Cattle people should be dead
Die cattle people! Die!
Feedback from his microphone screeched in Anna’s ears as the “song” finally ended—she’d sat through seven of them in total—but she remained blissfully headache free. In fact, her head felt oddly buoyant atop her neck after all the skull crushers she’d endured over the last nine days. Craig hopped off the makeshift stage the band had thrown together and sauntered over to Anna. She said she needed some air and he followed her outside to his front yard.
“Heard Denton got fired,” he said.
“I figured. There was a sub today.”
“The one with the big fake tits?”
Groan. What did she ever see in this clown? “I guess. She wasn’t feeling so well, though. She puked in the garbage can half way through class and excused herself. Probably had the flu that’s going around. Did you get it? You look a little rough.”
“Nah, just hungover. Nothing contagious.” He kicked at something on the ground. “Wanna hang later, just us two?”
“Can’t do it,” Anna said.
“Still pissed, huh?”
Craig had applied his guy liner with impressive precision, the deep brown of his brooding eyes artfully accentuated. Anna took him in: the studs on his leather jacket, the large chain hanging off his skinnies, the ripped T-shirt exposing sections of his stomach. The whole getup suddenly looked contrived and kind of sad, like a hand-me-down Halloween costume that didn’t quite fit. And who was he underneath that costume? Anna had to admit that she had no idea, but she had an inkling he might be devastatingly boring.
“Not so much,” she said. “I do have plans, though, so I gotta get going. Want to hug it out?”
He seemed surprised by her confidence. She normally tittered and swooned in his presence like an aging Belieber with a backstage pass.
“That’s cool,” he said, and opened his arms.
If Craig wanted to apologize, it wasn’t necessary. Anna knew that the portals and poisoned water were behind his wretchedness, at least mostly. But he wasn’t getting off scot-free for that webcam stunt. No freakin’ way.
Anna went in for the hug, enduring the pokes from various studs and buckles as she slipped the velvet bag into one of the pockets of his leather jacket. It wouldn’t take long for the small amount of Source energy that she’d placed on the bag to fade away. And when it was gone, the Trickster would emerge and claim its new target, finding its way into Craig’s room, Anna was sure, and devising endless ways to torment him. It wasn’t cold-hearted revenge she sought, merely the room-temperature variety.
“Yo, Shine.”
It was Izzy. He’d pulled up to the curb in his mom’s white Camry. His faced paled at the sight of Anna.
“He’s dropping something off,” Craig said. “I’ll get rid of him.”
Craig walked over to Izzy’s car, reaching in his back pocket for some cash. Perhaps Izzy had taken over his jailed brother’s profession and started selling weed. Anna couldn’t be sure. She didn’t catch what Izzy handed to Craig because her eyes were locked onto Izzy’s face, imagining how the bones of his nose might crunch under her fist. Of course, she’d probably break her hand if she face-punched him for real. But the sudden rage inside her didn’t want to be bothered with reality.
She said a quick goodbye to Craig—rattled by the murderou
s anger churning inside her—and cut through his neighbor’s backyard to the back road leading to Old Bloomtown. A block from Eden Street, Anna leaned against a telephone pole and rubbed her eyes. The portals were gone, weren’t they? The demon destroyed. She’d watched it die, felt it die in that water tank. But even as worry and doubt fluttered through her, she was aware of the cool wind rustling the canopy of pine needles overhead, of her feet rooting her to the earth. Yes, it was still there, the light but steady hum of Source energy running through her. And she didn’t have a headache.
Perhaps because she’d repeatedly experienced the intensity of the portal-fueled rage—that evil welling up inside her time and again—it lived inside her now. It was a part of her, just as the Source energy was. She might always have to battle that evil. Maybe everyone in Bloomtown would.
Anna made her way to Freddy’s back yard. The silhouettes of her two friends were visible in the waning moonlight, along with the cylindrical shape of Freddy’s telescope pointed toward the sky. The puppies were there too. Their wiggly small forms put an instant lump in Anna’s throat that made her hesitant to pet them as they nipped and lapped at her ankles. Penelope’s spirit remained whole and vital in another realm, but Anna still mourned the dog’s loss. Quickly boring of her, the pups ran off to investigate some bushes.
Anna’s arrival had interrupted an argument between Dor and Freddy over potential puppy names. They were each keeping a puppy and after greeting Anna finally agreed on Itchy and Scratchy. Their quibbling then shifted to how to best use the star-mapping app on Freddy’s phone.
“Why don’t we go old school tonight?” Anna suggested, sitting down on the grass. Big mistake. The puppies were on her in an instant, slobbering on her face. Dor and Freddy came to her rescue, lying on either side of Anna and absorbing some of the puppy drool. Itchy and Scratchy moved on to chasing each other around the yard, and the three of them were left to ponder the waning moon and starry sky.
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