“We’re going home, young lady. No more cold and damp snow for you. You need a warm bed, some hot tea, and some chicken soup. Now. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
I didn’t want to agree with him, because I really wanted to talk to Lisa Simons’s parents, but with the snow starting to come down as fast as it was, we’d never get to Clemmons City and back home before the roads turned bad anyway.
“Boy, cowboys sure are pushy,” I joked as I got in the Jeep.
He smiled at me. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, filly. Just wait until you turn your nose up at my super-duper, fast-acting, cold-curing homemade elixir.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see. Tastes like dirt and the sweat of a chimpanzee, but it works, and I’m gonna make you some before I tuck you in, and you’re not gonna like it.”
Despite how poorly I felt, I laughed. “Dirt and chimpanzee sweat? How do you know what chimpanzee sweat tastes like?”
“You’d be surprised what I know. Now, no more talk. Dr. Dainty’s on duty and he’s gonna fix you right up.”
That was the last thing I heard before I began to drift off, my last thoughts about the University of Virginia and men who talked funny.
Chapter 17
The Christmas Song (Christmas Don’t Be Late)
Written by, Ross Bagdasarian 1958
Wowzers. Hobbs had been right. Whatever he’d put in his super-duper chimpanzee-sweat elixir was heinous, but I did feel a bit better.
He’d brought me inside once we got back and whipped up whatever the stuff that tasted like monkey’s butt was, tucked me in, pressed a light kiss to my hot forehead and told me to get some rest, promising to come back and check on me later.
As I glanced at my phone, I saw that it was already almost eight in the evening, I’d slept for four hours, and that meant Nana was going to have my hide if I didn’t feed her pronto.
“Halliday, whatever are you doing?” Atti asked, his deep voice warm and soothing.
I slipped off the bed, still a bit lightheaded from Hobbs’s elixir. “I’m going to feed Nana Karen, of course. I do it every night, and I’m late. She’s going to be very cranky or better known as hangry.”
Atti buzzed in front of my face, his long beak, bobbing as he shook his head. “You’ll do no such thing. You’re quite ill. I’ll feed her.”
Holding out my finger, I let him land on it and gave him a kiss on his head. “I have some girl talk I need to get off my chest, Atti. No offense to you, but I need a female opinion.”
“And must you have that discussion this eve? Can’t it wait until you don’t sound like a foghorn?”
I wanted to share my elation over Hobbs’s acceptance of my visions, and while I was sure Atti would be thrilled for me in his distinctly unaffected, almost bored Atti way, I needed a girl to squeal over it with.
I looked my familiar in the eye. “I’m just a little woozy, but I’m fine. Now, quit haranguing me and let me be a girl for two seconds, huh, grouchy?”
“Ick,” he spat. “Far be it from me to keep you from talk of filthy boys. Off with you then. Whilst you’re gone, I shall draw a warm bath and stoke the fire.”
“Where’s Uncle Darling?”
“Visiting Montwell. The doctors allowed them extra time this evening due to how well he’s faring. Lovely news, isn’t it?”
I grinned and tried to take a sigh of relief, but my tight chest didn’t love that. “It sure is.”
“Good enough. Now, I’m off to prepare a meal, too. How does chicken and dumplings sound?”
I kissed him on the top of his tiny head again. “Like the best comfort food ever. Thanks, Atti. I love you.”
“Ugh, keep your unhealthy slobber to yourself, Miss Witch. Now go, before I change my mind and shackle you to your bed and force you to become well.”
Laughing, I headed off to the mudroom to grab my coat and hat and bundle up. I couldn’t wait to talk to Nana. I also grabbed my phone and shoved it into the pocket of my jacket.
Pushing the door open, I looked over at Hobbs’s cottage and smiled. It was all lit up, courtesy of him. He’d decorated around the rounded door and all across the roofline with red and white Christmas lights. There was a wreath with a big red bow hanging on the door, and he’d even put out a standing wood Santa on the tiny porch, carved and painted by one of our local artisans.
The light was on in his kitchen, which I hoped didn’t mean he was cooking up another batch of chimpanzee sweat, but it did make my heart skip a beat that he’d taken such good care of me.
And that reminded me of where we were at this point in the hunt for a killer. Despite the fact that we still had next to nothing, and my uncle was still in danger, I felt as though we’d at least accomplished something.
We had two more clues to this mess. The University of Virginia and a man who talked funny. But was he the same man in both Kerry Carver’s case and Jasmine’s? Or was that a dumb question? It had to be.
And the U of V was bugging me, but my brain was still fuzzy from whatever Hobbs put in that disgusting drink. Why did that sound familiar? Not only because I’d seen the emblem in my vision, but because…
I stopped my short trek to the barn and pulled my phone from my pocket, still on the last Facebook page I’d looked at this afternoon after looking at Jasmine’s mother’s page.
And several things kept running through my brain, all smushed together and cramming my head at once.
The University of Virginia.
The crease in the killer’s pants.
The smell of cigarette smoke.
The description Officer Little had given about the man who’d attacked my uncle.
Solange and Sienna’s mention of someone who talked funny…
Holy word so bad, Atti, were I still in grade school, would ground me for a hundred years for saying!
When it all came together, when I pulled up Facebook and double-checked my facts, I instantly texted Stiles to tell him what I thought I knew.
And as luck would have it, that was the instant someone cracked me over the head with something. Something pretty gosh darn hard, thank you very much.
When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t focus on where I was because my head hurt so much, it felt like it had been put in a vise grip. I tried to take deep breaths, but my chest, so constricted from congestion, wanted no part of that.
“Hey!” I heard someone whisper and nudge my leg.
Blinking, I tried to see, but it was pitch black and my head was throbbing something fierce.
“Hey! Are you awake?”
A female. It was a female voice. I groaned but managed to say, “Where am I?”
“We don’t know,” a frightened voice whispered back.
I tried to sit up all the way, but the hard wall to my back scratched at my jacket and kept catching the material. When I attempted to put my hands out in front of me, I found they were chained to something.
My hands were restrained by shackles and icy cold, almost to the point of numb.
Giving a hard tug, I realized I was chained to a wall, which cleared what little fuzziness I had left. Holy schmole.
Stay calm, Halliday. You can get yourself out of any fix if you simply stay calm.
“What’s going on?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew what was going on.
“He took you. Just like he took us!”
My heart began to crash against my ribs. “Are you Jasmine and Lisa?”
“Yes!” one girl’s voice rang out. “How did you know?”
“Shh, Lisa! Don’t be so loud. He’ll hear you!” I assumed it was Jasmine giving her the warning.
But I needed to know if I was right. “Who is he?”
I figured I already knew, but when you’ve been bonked on the head and your nose feels like it’s going to drip right off your face, and you’re chained up somewhere cold and dark, it never hurts to be sure.
“We don’t know!” Lisa (I think) cried out, terror in her voice. �
�He never says anything to us. Not a single word. He always wears that awful Halloween mask every time he comes in here.”
“He just throws food at us and a…a bucket for us to…you know,” Jasmine said, her husky voice cracking. “And then he leaves again, every single time!”
Then a thought struck sheer terror in me. “He hasn’t…”
“No!” they both yelled in unison.
Attempting a sigh of relief, I tried to focus. “Okay, I need you to listen to me. I’m Halliday Valentine—Hal for short. I’m from Marshmallow Hollow, and there are people who’ve been looking for you. I’ve been looking for you—”
“He killed Kerry!” Lisa squeaked in obvious terror. “I know he did. He dragged her out of here and it feels like weeks since we’ve seen her! He killed her, and he’s going to kill us!”
“It hasn’t been weeks since he took her, Lisa,” Jasmine reminded her with an edge of irritation to her tone. “Remember? I told you, I’ve been counting the meals he’s been giving us. He feeds us once a day, and it’s only been four meals since she left. Only four.”
The panic in Lisa’s voice and the defeat in Jasmine’s ripped at my heart. Yet, I sensed Jasmine had been looking out for Lisa, and that gave me a modicum of comfort.
“Lisa! Jasmine! I need you to listen to me. Listen carefully. He’s not going to kill you, and Kerry’s not dead. I promise you, it’s all going to be okay. I won’t let him hurt you, but you must listen.”
“Kerry’s alive?” Lisa said, her voice watery. “Is that really true?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “She’s alive. She was pretty beat up, but she’s alive. Now listen to me. I’m going to break these chains, and you’re going to wonder how, but I can’t answer questions now. I need you to promise me you’ll let me get you out of here. Promise you’ll listen to everything I say. Do it,” I ordered.
I could easily break the chains with my magic, but I couldn’t afford to waste time while they asked questions I couldn’t answer.
An erasure spell was in their near futures, but for now, I needed them to cooperate, and when I got the blankety-blank out of here, I was going to hunt this mothertrucker down and make him rue the day he ever thought up this insane plan.
I desperately wanted to zap us out of here, but I know my magic only too well. Simple tasks are one thing, zapping all three of us out, when I’m as stressed as I was, could land us somewhere I couldn’t keep us safe.
So I’d have to take it one step at a time. Patience. Patience, Poppet, I heard Atti say in my head.
Closing my eyes, I said again, “Ladies? Do you hear me? I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s crucial you listen to me.”
“But how—”
“Lisa!” Jasmine chastised. “She said don’t ask questions. Do you want to be in here forever? Or do you want to go home to your cat, Seamus?”
That gave me a talking point, something to distract them. “You have a cat, Lisa? Me too. His name’s Phil. Mine’s a total jerk. Super aloof, hates any kind of affection unless it’s on his terms…and to think, I rescued him. What’s yours like?” I asked as I rubbed my fingertips together and twisted my wrists.
As Lisa began describing her cat, I focused on freeing myself. My trusty magic surged through me in a tidal wave of blissful power, popping first one cuff and then the next.
Finally free, but unable to see a bloody thing, I felt around.
The floor was dirt, and cold, but when I reached out, I felt material. A blanket? Then something soft that almost had me recoiling until I realized it was a pillow.
With my pulse racing, I called out, “Jasmine, talk to me. I can’t see a thing. I need to follow the sound of your voice.”
“My name is Jasmine Franks, and I want to go home, Hal. I want to go home so bad, I can’t even tell you. I…I miss my mother. I miss my dog Juniper. She’s a rescue. A French bulldog, and she sleeps with me every night. I…I miss her…” she sobbed softly.
I began crawling, my hands touching every inch of the surface between myself and Jasmine’s voice. “I saw your mother today, Jasmine. She misses you so much. She’s going to be so happy you’re okay.”
I heard her gasp softly. “You saw her? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Jasmine. She just misses you, but not for long,” I said as I struggled to bridge the gap between us. When I finally touched flesh, I asked, “Is that your ankle?”
“Yes. Oh, thank God, yes!”
“Hold your hands out to me, Jasmine. Reach for mine.” When I felt her fingers touch mine, I worked my way along her hands until I gripped her wrists, and she began to openly weep. “Hush now, Jasmine,” I soothed, stroking her arm. “I know you’ve been locked away here a long time, but I’m begging you, listen to me. I need you to stay calm, and I promise I’ll get you out. I swear it. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you home to your mother and Juniper.”
The last thing I needed was for my magic to go kerflooey due to my stress. Rather than succumb to her soft sobs, I focused on the feel of the shackles and Jasmine’s icy fingers—and to my sheer delight, her cuffs fell off and clanked to the ground.
“How did you…?”
Hearing the awe and wonder in her voice, the relief, almost made me tear up. Being here so long must have been a living nightmare, but I couldn’t afford to lose my focus.
“No questions!” I all but yelled. “Lisa? Now you, sweetie. Talk to me. Tell me what your favorite subject was in school. It was art, right?”
I think I recalled that detail from her Facebook page.
As Lisa began to talk about her art class, and the teacher she’d so admired, it was easy to find her. The room was quite small, and when I walked my way up her legs, I grabbed onto her wrists, rubbing the smooth metal of the thick cuffs until they fell away like melted butter.
Sitting back on my haunches, I took as deep a breath as my congestion would allow while I thought about how I was going to do this without them losing their minds and becoming what I most feared.
Afraid of me.
I wanted to zap us out of here, but my fear was the same as it’s always been. What if I was so stressed, my magic failed and we ended up in the outer regions of Mongolia—or worse, another dimension? I wanted to trust myself, but I’d done worse under far less stressful circumstances.
Or what if they became afraid of me and my powers and they flipped? I couldn’t afford for them to become hysterical.
Licking my dry lips, and flexing my icy-cold fingers, I said, “I need you both to listen to me and I mean truly listen. I’m going to do something that’s going to—”
But I didn’t have time to finish that sentence before a heavy metal door burst open—and there in the very pale light of a quarter moon stood the repulsive scumbag who’d started this whole thing…all for a leg up.
Westcott Morgan.
Chapter 18
Mistletoe
Written by, Nasri, Justin Bieber, Adam Messinger 2011
And Westcott Morgan had a really big gun.
Now, I’ve said this before, I don’t know a whole lot about guns, but I think it was Mr. Feeney’s shotgun, and all I can tell you is this: no matter the cost, I wasn’t going to let these girls end up with big ugly holes in their chests the way Gable had.
Both of the girls cried out in what sounded like surprise and, of course, terror, but I shoved them behind me as my eyes adjusted to the light and the wind rushed in, blowing snowflakes directly into my face.
“You!” he seethed. “Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone? Why couldn’t you just go away?!”
From the kneeling position I was in, Jasmine and Lisa clung to me, their bodies trembling so violently, I almost tipped over.
Yet, I countered, my head throbbing, my eyes fixed on the barrel of that gun. “Why did you murder Gable Norton? How did that fit into your sick plan to manufacture a big story?”
Because, BTW, that’s what he’d done. He’d manufactured this entire mess fro
m start to finish.
His nostrils flared, his eyes wild and his face distorted as he cried, “I didn’t mean to kill him! That was never part of the plan! Never! If he’d have just given me the SD card, I would have left and no one would have gotten hurt! I just wanted to prove I could write a story! I swear I was going to bring them all back. No one was supposed to get hurt!”
My seething anger, my disgust, took over as I clenched my fists. “Isn’t there something about the best-laid plans, Westcott? You’re a writer,” I spat. “You know what I mean, don’t you, wordsmith? But in your quest for a story, you almost killed my uncle!”
Jasmine and Lisa whimpered behind me, but I held them back.
Westcott Morgan’s face crumbled at my words, but he had a firm grip on that gun. “I didn’t know he was in the bathroom! I swear, I didn’t know, Hal! I was fighting with Gable, and then your uncle was on the floor bleeding and Gable had a hole in his chest the size of a donut! I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt!”
I rose on slow legs, aching and tried from kneeling. “Why did you want the SD card, Westcott? What was on it that you didn’t want anyone to see?”
His shoulders slumped as the wind tore at his curly hair and his eyes went dull. “I was going to dump Kerry that night—maybe in the woods. I wasn’t going to hurt her. I wasn’t going to hurt any of them. I swear it! But Kerry got away. She got out of the trunk of my car. I didn’t give her enough of the sedative. I knew I should have given her more!”
My pulse raced as I decided I didn’t care where we were transported to, as long as we got away from this maniac. If only I could remember the words…
“And she got away from you, didn’t she, Westcott? She ran away and hid in the woods for two days!”
He nodded a sad bob of his head as he steadied the gun. “She ran off…and it was all going to be on that SD card, Hal. All of it. Every single second of me going into the store to get her food while she broke out of the trunk. I was going in there so I could leave her with food, and she ran away!”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Witness Page 15