“I don’t, but she was wearing a swimsuit and she wouldn’t bother with that unless she was going swimming.”
“I just hope she keeps it on the entire time,” he grumbled, but I stopped listening at that point. I knew exactly where Susie was now.
I hustled outside, turned around in a circle to orient myself, and ran, cutting straight through the neighbor’s yard. Hellburn wasn’t big enough to have a municipal pool so most teens headed to Kimball Bend Park to splash around in the Brazos River, but ever since the bridge was damaged by a freak earthquake – otherwise known as Nyx, the Dread Lord’s handmaiden – that whole area was closed off for repairs. Since then, Susie made frequent, albeit unauthorized, use of the pool at Oakmont Village.
I pushed myself to the limit and the neighborhood sped past in a blur. Not-Peter might not know Susie was at the apartments but if he was telling the truth about changing clothes, he might see her as he drove by the pool. Worse yet, she often raided the fridge for snacks and drinks so she wouldn’t have to spend her own money in the vending machines. I had to get to her and warn her before the imposter found her.
And how exactly are you going to do that? Little Peter asked snidely. You’re a ghost, remember?
That was an excellent point. I needed Olivia with me but the cemetery was in the opposite direction and it would take too long to get there and back. I wanted to make sure Susie was safe first, then I could worry about actually communicating with her.
I’d made the trip between the house and the apartment more times than I cared to count during the move but I was coming from a different angle this time and I almost missed the turn. I made the course correction, zipped through the clubhouse, and came to a stop at the edge of the pool, casting all around for any sign of Susie. There were only a handful of people here now, though, and none of them were skinny blonde fifteen-year-olds.
Okay, I told myself, that means either she didn’t actually come here or she was here and left or she’s at the apartment or Not-Peter got to her first.
Well, that certainly narrows things down, Little Peter observed wryly.
Shut up. I ran to the apartment, noting with relief that the parking spots out front were empty. Great, he’s not here. Or he left already, I added doubtfully.
You know, you’re really bad at this CSI stuff. Are you sure you’re cut out to be a policeman?
Shut up! I’m just thorough. I pushed through the front door and got halfway up the first flight of stairs before I stopped and looked back at the entranceway. The tiled floor was pristine, with no sign of Protego’s shattered remains.
“What in the world?” I muttered uneasily. I couldn’t imagine my evil counterpart bothering to clean up after himself and Susie only did chores under duress. “Hello?” I called out loud. “Is anybody here?” There was no response and I hurried on upstairs.
I just reached the top when an odd sort of ripping sound came from the living room, like tearing cloth. My heart jumped into my throat, figuratively speaking, and I leapt into the room, ready to rescue Susie from whatever was assailing her, except she wasn’t there.
Instead, a teenaged boy in a t-shirt and swim trunks used his teeth to tear off another strip of masking tape from the roll and applied it neatly to the strip of cardboard he was holding across the broken balcony door. All of the scattered shards of glass were gone and the vacuum cleaner stood nearby. It would never occur to Susie to voluntarily clean up someone else’s mess but her boyfriend Cameron Jacoby was the nicest person on the planet. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was on the shortlist for the next available sainthood.
“Cameron! Where’s Susie?” He couldn’t hear me, of course. He bent down to pick up another flattened cardboard box, no doubt taken from the pile we stashed in the garage after the move, and held it up to the window to assess its suitability as a temporary barricade. I abandoned him to his charitable labors and hurried back down the hall. “Susie?”
The kitchen was both spotless and unoccupied but my bedroom door was wide open. A trail of discarded clothing led from the hall to the bathroom – white sandals, a pale green mesh cover-up, and a bright yellow bikini top and bottom. The latter items were damp and far too small to contain Melissa’s curves. “Susie? Are you in here?”
I hesitated to check the bathroom in case Susie was in the middle of something I didn’t want to see but she walked into the room a moment later, wearing nothing but a mismatched collection of bejeweled silver rings on her fingers. She draped a towel over her back and shoulders like a superhero’s cape, letting her long flaxen hair rest on the outside to dry naturally, and seated herself at Melissa’s vanity, inspecting herself critically in the mirror.
She rooted through Melissa’s extensive collection of lipsticks, searching for a color she liked. Melissa tended to favor dark reds but Susie finally located a pale pink hue and carefully applied it to her puckered lips. A month ago, the sight of Susie wearing makeup would have made the national news but a lot changed since then, thanks to Lilixandriel’s meddling. Satisfied with her lips, Susie picked up a mascara brush and leaned closer to the mirror. I had better things to do than watch her primp, though.
“Susie, can you hear me?” I asked hopefully, just in case she developed the ability to perceive ghosts in the last week. The answer appeared to be no, though, as she methodically darkened her eyelashes, although I couldn’t completely discount the possibility that she was just ignoring me.
A discrete knock on the door frame startled me but didn’t faze Susie in the least. “Susie?” Cameron called from the hallway. “Are you decent?”
Susie paused in her ministrations. “What does that mean?” she asked suspiciously.
“Are you covered up?”
She looked down at herself. “No. Why?”
“Could you put something on, please? I need to show you something.”
Susie heaved one of her patented long-suffering sighs at the onerous burden he was imposing on her. She set down the mascara brush, rearranged her towel around her torso, and resumed her cosmetological endeavors. “I’m decent,” she reported. That was subject to debate as far as I was concerned but at least the important bits were out of sight.
Cameron leaned in through the doorway, assessed the veracity of her claim, and then stepped all the way into the room. “I was throwing the trash away in the kitchen and I saw this on the table. It looked important.” He held out the note Olivia had written for Dara. Susie took it from him and frowned her way through the clumsy handwriting. “It sounds like they’re in trouble.”
“I guess,” Susie said unenthusiastically. She tossed the note onto the vanity and started opening Melissa’s makeup compacts. “What color eyeshadow should I use?”
“Something pink, to go with your lips. Doesn’t the part about Peter being dead bother you?”
“Peter’s not dead,” she declared firmly. “The Philosopher’s Stone won’t allow it. Besides, I’d know it if he was.” She glared at the mirror, daring it to contradict her as she dusted her eyelids pink.
“Oh, Susie,” I murmured. She was going to be devastated when she discovered the truth.
“Still, I think we should try to help them,” Cameron insisted gently.
“Yeah, yeah. How do I look?” She turned her face up to him for his inspection.
“Beautiful,” he smiled, “but you don’t need makeup for that.” I had to give Cameron credit, for a fifteen-year-old, he really knew how to treat a woman. Susie actually blushed and bit her lip in shy appreciation, which she never ever did. She tucked her still-damp hair behind her ear and studied the glittery lime-green nail polish on her fingernails. Cameron waited a few beats and then cleared his throat. “So, about the note?” he prompted.
Susie’s lips tightened into a thin line and for a moment I feared for Cameron’s safety. Then she snatched up the message like she intended to bite its head off and skimmed its contents again. “She says someone who looks like Peter tried to kill them and Dara’s missing.”
“And Amy too,” he reminded her.
Susie pretended not to hear that. “I guess we could look for Olivia and see what’s going on.”
“No, don’t do that!” I protested. “I know where she is. Find Dara!”
Susie thrust the paper at Cameron imperiously. “I’m going to need something of hers.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“I don’t care. Anything that’s been in contact with her body.”
“But she’s a ghost,” he pointed out. “She doesn’t really have a body.”
“She does when she manifests. Oh, never mind,” she groused, letting out a What’s the point of having servants if I still have to do everything myself? sort of sigh. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I’m hungry.” She got up and marched to the door, looking back sourly at Cameron’s delicate cough.
“You should probably change into some proper clothes,” he said, indicating her towel with a twirl of his finger. It barely covered her butt and was already in danger of coming loose.
“Why?” she asked in genuine puzzlement. He just gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she grumbled. She plucked her cover-up off the floor and walked out, letting the towel fall to the floor as she shrugged the garment on. “There better not be any more stupid rules after we’re married.”
“We’re getting married?” Cameron asked mildly, following her out. “When did this happen?”
“I told you last month.” She paused at the top of the stairs with a pensive frown. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’m flattered,” he smiled, “but maybe we should talk about that later.”
“It’s too late to back out now,” she warned him. “I already decided.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her, “but let’s take care of Olivia and Dara first, okay?”
Susie huffed a grudging agreement and the two of them trooped downstairs with me in tow, shaking my head. Definitely sainthood, I mused ruefully.
I rarely went into the room Dara and Olivia shared on the second floor but it hadn’t changed much since they moved in. It was pretty spartan, to say the least. The two single beds, one neatly made and the other a haphazard ruin of sheets and pillows, were separated by a night table with a lamp. A plain dresser with a large oval mirror stood in the corner and a colorful plush rug covered most of the floor, while the closet practically overflowed with the clothes Mom bought for Dara, plus Olivia’s few outfits. One of my Japanese mangas lay on the night table but there was nothing on the walls and only a few miscellaneous items scattered across the top of the dresser.
“Is there something here you can use?” Cameron asked, keeping his hands behind his back like he was afraid to disturb anything.
“Maybe,” Susie said. She surveyed the room and then sat on the edge of the orderly bed, resting her hands on the cover to either side and closing her eyes. A moment later, the amethyst on her right forefinger began to gleam. “This is Olivia’s bed,” she murmured, “but she hasn’t used it much.” All three of us eyed the other bed but no one voiced the obvious conclusion out loud.
Susie picked up the manga and held it between her palms. The amethyst flared again and she shook her head. “This is Peter’s.” She set it down and opened the top drawer of the night table. She peered in, cocked her head, and pulled out a purple plastic square, turning it front and back. One side said Trojan in gold letters and the other had the number 3 written on it in felt pen. “What’s this?” she asked with a frown.
“That’s a condom,” Cameron explained. He was probably the only teenager in existence who could utter that sentence without stuttering or blushing.
“What’s it for?”
“Are you kidding me?” I blurted. “Didn’t Mom give you The Talk already?”
“Boys use them to keep girls from getting pregnant,” Cameron said placidly. “It also prevents the spread of disease.”
“But Olivia isn’t a boy,” Susie argued.
“Boys don’t always remember to carry one with them.”
Susie’s mouth twisted doubtfully as she held the packet up to the light. “How does it work?”
“What?” I gasped. “Don’t answer that!”
“It goes over the boy’s penis before he puts it in her vagina.”
“Don’t tell her that!”
Susie held it out to him. “Show me,” she commanded.
“Oh my God!” I was starting to hyperventilate, which I wouldn’t have thought possible as a ghost.
“After we’re married,” Cameron promised, his hands still safely behind his back. “Can you use it to find Olivia?”
Susie cupped the packet between her palms while I dropped bonelessly onto Dara’s bed, cradling my head in my hands. I’m never having a daughter, I told myself. My heart can’t take the strain. The amethyst did its thing and this time Susie tilted her head thoughtfully.
“It’s mostly a Melissa vibe,” she reported. “Did she give it to Olivia?” Cameron shrugged to express his ignorance and Susie tossed the condom back in the drawer, looking dissatisfied. “Here’s another one.” She reached in and a purple glow filled the drawer. “That’s Dara’s.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed eagerly. “Use that!” But Susie closed the drawer and pulled open the other two. They were both empty.
“How about something over there?” Cameron suggested, pointing to the dresser. “Those look like personal items.”
Susie went over to inspect the collection, touching each item with her forefinger. She stopped when she reached the hairbrush. “This one,” she announced. The bristles sported several wavy brown strands, nothing at all like Daraxandriel’s short red hair.
“Now what?” Cameron asked curiously. “Can you use it to track Olivia?”
“I could,” Susie sniffed, “but it’s too hot outside and I don’t feel like walking.” She set the brush in the middle of the rug and retreated to the edge, spreading her arms and fingers. “Step back a bit,” she ordered, and Cameron and I both retreated to the corners of the room.
All of the gems on Susie’s rings flared with a brilliant white light and a large pentagram formed around Olivia’s hairbrush, flickering with white fire. I expected to see a spherical portal form above it, allowing us to step through to wherever Olivia was – presumably the Hellburn Municipal Cemetery, if she followed my instructions – but instead, the pentagram burst like a camera flash. I clamped my eyes shut automatically and when I dared to open them again, Olivia was there, seated on a weather-worn marble bench and clutching Dr. Bellowes’ journal to her chest. She gaped around her, obviously not recognizing her surroundings, and then bolted for the door.
“Olivia, wait!” I lunged for her, snagging her arm, and the two of us tumbled into the hallway in a tangle of limbs. She struggled to get away from me, landing a few well-placed kicks and punches, and I lost my grip on her. She scrambled to her feet and I grabbed the back of her nightgown, hoping to slow her down, but the seam ripped open. She shrieked in surprise, dropping the book as she spun around.
“Leave me alone, you – oh. Peter, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” I grumbled, rubbing the side of my head where she clocked me. I clambered to my feet as she looked around uneasily.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where are we? Wait a minute, this is the apartment, isn’t it? How did I get here?”
“You can thank Susie for that,” I sighed. “Come on, you need to –” Just then, Cameron stepped into the hall.
“Did you notice a book go flying out of the room?” he asked over his shoulder. “I could have sworn – oh, here it is.” He reached down and picked it up, turning over in his hands curiously. “So we have a book and a bench,” he mused, returning to the bedroom, “but where’s Olivia?”
Susie glared down at the bench with her arms crossed like she wanted it to confess to some heinous crime. “She should be here,” she grumbled. “I did everything right.”
“What is she talking about?”
Olivia whispered, as if she was afraid Susie would hear her. “And why is that bench in my bedroom?”
“Cameron found your message and talked Susie into helping us,” I explained. “I guess she tried to summon you and picked up more than she expected.”
“But they have the book now!” she said worriedly. “I thought we had to keep it away from everyone.”
“From the imposter, not them. Hey, I wonder if she can read it,” I said hopefully as Cameron handed the journal to Susie. She riffled through the pages with pursed lips, studying some of the diagrams.
“What it is?” Cameron asked.
“It looks like someone’s Book of Shadows,” she said. “It’s a witch’s journal. A lot of this is in demonic, though.”
“Demonic? As in the language of demons?” For a kid who had no magical powers whatsoever and was unaware of the existence of witches and demons just a couple of months ago, Cameron was certainly taking all of this in stride. Susie nodded with a pensive frown. “What does it say?”
“I don’t know, I can’t read demonic.” My shoulders sagged in disappointment. “The first part’s in English, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“It’s got all kinds of thees and thous in it. It’s like Dara wrote it. Oh, look, here’s her name.” Cameron leaned over her shoulder as she pointed.
“So is it hers?”
“Not unless she likes to call herself as a spiteful treacherous she-vixen. I might try that out on her later.” Susie flipped back to the front of the journal and skimmed the first few pages. “Ah.” Even Cameron stepped back from the chilly menace in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” he asked carefully.
“This belonged to Parathraxas.” She closed the journal with a loud snap, startling us. “He’s the guy who tried to kill me.” I almost expected her to incinerate the book or call lightning down to shatter the bench, but she just shrugged. “Well, he’s dead now. So where’s Olivia? She’s supposed to be here.” She peered around the room carefully, as if she suspected Olivia was playing hide-and-seek with her.
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