by K. C. Neal
“Can I have some of that?” he said. “We don’t have any food in the house yet.”
“Yep, help yourself.” I pointed to the cupboard with the bowls, but he was already there. He poured himself some Cheerios and milk, grabbed a spoon from the drawer, and sat down next to me.
“What’re we going to look for?” Mason asked, and started shoveling Cheerios into his mouth.
I scrunched my mouth to one side and frowned. “I’m not exactly sure. Anything that could help us, I guess. I don’t think my grandmother or Aunt Dorothy had journals or anything, but you never know.”
It was about a half-mile walk to my grandmother’s house, and a perfect day to be outside. Summer always took a long time to kick in at Tapestry because of the high altitude. Even by the beginning of May, it usually felt like summer would never completely arrive. But today, the sun on my skin was warm, and it almost banished the chill I felt whenever I thought about the dream and my grandmother’s kitchen.
As much as I wished I could forget the dream, the details prickled my mind. Then, I realized something. Mason couldn’t have had the exact same dream I had because he wasn’t in mine. In my dream, it was just me, Grandma Doris, Aunt Dorothy, and the shadowy figure who came through the front door.
“So, um, could you walk me though the dream you had about my grandmother’s house?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mason glance at me.
After a few seconds, he answered, “I was outside, maybe a couple of houses down. That nasty black fog was everywhere. But I managed to keep a bubble of space around me, so it couldn’t close in. It was almost like I walked inside a bubble of light.” He drew a deep breath. “I knew somehow that you were in the house and in some kind of danger. When I got close enough, I saw a, like, shadow-man go through the front door. I started running. I had to get to him before he got to you. That’s all I remember. I woke up before I got inside the house.”
We walked in silence for a moment. I wished I’d brought a sweatshirt. Despite the lovely day, I was getting serious creep-out chills.
“So … what about yours?” Mason asked.
“It started out nice,” I said. I recounted the dream.
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“No, I really didn’t,” I admitted. “But I was completely petrified. I was sure I was going to die.”
I gave my head a little shake, trying to clear the image of the shadow-man from my mind’s eye.
“We’re certifiable, aren’t we,” I said. “We’re both going to end up in padded rooms eating mushy food with plastic sporks for the rest of our lives.”
He laughed. It was exactly what I needed him to do.
“Hey, at least we’ll be together,” he said, amusement lilting in his voice. Then the levity faded from his face. “I don’t know what it all means, but I don’t think we need to question our sanity.”
I didn’t know how he could possibly know that, but I felt reassured, anyway.
“So have you talked to Garrett or Jesse yet?” I asked. Garrett and Jesse were Mason’s buddies from way back. The three of them had started an internet radio show freshman year, and I imagined Mason missed working on it while he was away.
“Yeah, Garrett texted me. I’m going to hang out with him and Jesse tomorrow.” We walked in silence for a few minutes.
We turned down my grandmother’s street, and I could almost see the gray fog gathered in the shadows under the cars parked on the street or behind the shrubs that lined some of the yards. My heart bumped away in my chest, and my hands felt cold with nervous sweat. I hoped I didn’t look as terrified as I felt. I tried to remember all the happy times I’d spent in my grandmother’s house. Surely those memories carried more weight than one nightmare?
I pulled the house key out of my pocket and clutched it in my fist. As we walked up to the front door, I squeezed tighter and tighter until the metal edges dug into my palm.
Mason looked down at me, and his face seemed filled with both apprehension and determination.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and slipped the key into the deadbolt lock.
|| 16 ||
THE LAST TIME I had stepped inside my grandmother’s house was shortly after she died. My parents had been back a bunch of times to take care of the mail, get some things for Aunt Dorothy to have at the retirement home, and generally make sure the place was okay. When I came to get all of Grandma Doris’s cookbooks and cooking equipment, I kept expecting her to come down the stairs, her hair pulled into its signature bun and her face lit up by her coral-lipstick smile.
But now, as Mason and I closed the front door behind us, I half-expected the boogey man to jump out at us. I never imagined I could feel this way about my grandmother’s house. This used to be a place even more comforting than my own home. All I could think of was the black fog, the cheesecakes turning to ash, and the shadow-man who wanted to kill me. It wasn’t fair. If it weren’t for the nerves, I’d actually be kind of angry.
Even after all these months, it still smelled as I remembered, the scent I always associated with my grandmother. Sweet, from whatever treat she’d just baked, combined with woody undertones from the large woodpile that always stood ready near the fireplace.
“Where should we start?” Mason looked around. He seemed vigilant, almost as if he expected the boogey man to jump out, too.
I avoided looking toward the kitchen. “Maybe my grandmother’s desk?”
I led him toward the small, extra bedroom on the first floor that she’d called the den.
I sat down at her pine secretary desk and started thumbing through the little drawers. Mason opened the top drawer of the nearby filing cabinet and flipped through the folders.
“I feel like I’m invading her privacy,” he said.
“Yeah, I know, it’s a little weird,” I said without looking up. “But think of it this way, if she were alive, she’d want to help us, right?”
We dug through drawers in silence for about fifteen minutes. I didn’t come across anything that looked helpful, or even all that personal. I at least expected to find a few letters from friends. On the other hand, my grandmother and great-aunt weren’t overly sentimental, so maybe they’d just toss that sort of thing.
“See anything interesting in there?” I asked.
“Bunch of receipts, bank statements, things like that. Not really.”
A sound screamed through the empty house, and I jumped with a squeal. The doorbell.
“That scared the living crap out of me!” I whispered, my heart chugging like a runaway train.
We both went to the door and peeked out the curtained window next to it. An older man stood there, cane in hand, with a benign smile on his face. He looked vaguely familiar. Maybe somebody Doris or Dorothy knew? He seemed harmless enough.
I opened the door. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Oh,” he said, a look of recognition, or perhaps surprise, flashing across his face. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw somebody go into the house, and I hoped it would be … Maybe I should start over. I’m Harold Sykes.”
Harold Sykes? Mason and I looked at each other, and I knew my eyes were wide. Harold was one of the names on the pyxis list.
I grasped his outstretched hand. “I’m Corinne Finley.”
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Sykes tapped his cane on the ground with each word. He looked delighted. Thrilled, even. “You’re Doris’s granddaughter.”
His sudden enthusiasm made me smile. I nodded, then turned to Mason. “This is my friend, Mason Flint.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, young man,” I swear Mr. Sykes was examining the air around Mason’s head, and he appeared even more pleased than before. He nodded to himself and returned his gaze to me.
“Did you know my grandmother?” I prompted. I still wasn’t sure why he’d knocked on the door.
“Yes, yes,” he said, but sadly this time and with no cane
taps. “We knew each other for many, many years. Very sad, her passing. How is Dorothy?”
“Not very well,” I answered. “I’m not sure if you heard, but she had a stroke the same day my grandmother died. She’s in a home in Danton now.”
“Oh, that is terrible news.” He pursed his lips for a second. “I am so sorry to hear it. I do not mean to keep you, Ms. Finley, but would you mind accompanying me back to my house? It’s just across the street and two down. I have something for you from your dear grandma.”
“You … have something for me?” I said, frowning a question mark at Mason. He raised his eyebrows and gave me a look that said he wasn’t sure that Mr. Sykes still firmly possessed all his marbles.
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Sykes said, already slowly caning his way down the front walk. “It will only take a moment.”
He ambled slowly, and with a pronounced limp, which he explained was due to a knee replacement he’d had not long after my grandmother passed away.
“I would have given it to you earlier, but I had to stay with my daughter in Danton for a several months after the surgery while I recovered and went to physical therapy.”
Mason and I silently followed him into his house. He asked us to wait in the entryway while he disappeared down a hallway. Mr. Sykes’s slow pace made the whole scenario seem all the more suspenseful. It was all I could do not to hurry him up a little. I waited until he was out of earshot, then leaned closer to Mason.
“Oh my God, he’s on the list! Do you think he knows anything?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. But after your experience with Harriet Jensen, maybe we should play it safe,” Mason said.
“You’re right. We won’t say anything yet.” I was practically jittering with excitement. “What do you think he has for me?”
“I bet it’s a box full of collector’s edition garden gnomes,” Mason whispered, and I clapped a palm over my mouth and nose to stifle a laugh.
“No way, my grandmother had better taste than that,” I whispered back once I had control of myself.
“Okay, then it’s a key to a secret laboratory in her basement,” he said. “Where she made the pyxis solutions.”
“Nuh-uh, there’s no basement in my grandmother’s house.”
“Hence the secret in ‘secret laboratory.’”
We heard Mr. Sykes shuffling back down the hall, so we piped down. I looked eagerly for some mysterious thing, but saw only a generic, white, legal-sized envelope in his hand.
“Here it is,” he said, his face solemn. He handed me the envelope as if it were the royal crown. “It’s a letter from your grandmother.”
“Okay, uh, thank you.” I maintained a polite smile.
Mr. Sykes bade us goodbye, and we started back toward my grandmother’s house. I stopped at the sidewalk just before the walkway to my grandmother’s house and stared down at the envelope in my hands. Mason stopped beside me.
“This is just … kind of weird, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t think Grandma Doris ever mentioned the guy.”
“Yeah, that’s strange,” Mason agreed. He glanced at his watch. “And I hate to cut our investigation short, but I need to go soon. I’m sure my parents are back by now, and they’re going to need some help.”
Always the dutiful son. Sometimes I thought Mason was the only one in the Flint family who had his head screwed on straight. Obviously, it was a lucky fluke of genetics.
“Okay, let’s lock up real quick, and I’ll walk back with you.” I definitely wasn’t going to stay at my grandmother’s house alone. I ran inside to check for leaks under all the sinks like my dad asked, lowered the thermostat a few degrees, and then dead-bolted the door. We headed back toward our neighborhood.
“C’mon, I know you’re dying to open it,” Mason said, grinning.
I slipped my index finger under the envelope flap and worked it open. I pulled out two handwritten pages, and goose bumps chased each other down my arms. It was very “message-from-beyond.” I read silently as we walked.
|| 17 ||
MY DEAR CORINNE,
Harold had strict instructions about the circumstances under which to give you this letter, so if you’re reading it, I must be dead. What a pity!
I chuckled. Grandma Doris, through and through.
You may be wondering why he gave you this letter instead of Dorothy. Don’t tell her I said so, but I just couldn’t trust her to remember where she kept it. (Such a scatterbrain, I’ve never met in my life!) But Harold I know I can trust—levelheaded and dependable.
Dorothy should have explained to you about the pyxis by now. Please do listen to what she says, and don’t go experimenting with it on your own. I know you’ll be tempted, but the bottles are mostly to help you learn, and soon, you won’t need them at all. I’m so sorry I’m not there to teach you myself, my dear, but Dorothy will have to do.
I know it will be a lot for you to absorb, but it’s vital that you’re prepared. And you won’t be alone. You’ll have the other three with you, just as I had.
If Dorothy hasn’t told you about the signs to watch for in your dreams, please ask her right away. Your dreams will be your first signal of any impending peril.
I know it’s not easy to be the Pyxis, my dear, I know it all too well. But try to embrace what you are, and do your very best. I’ve no doubt you will rise to the challenge.
All my love to you, dearest,
Grandma Doris
P.S. We knew early on that Mason would be your Shield and Angeline would be a Guardian. We never could see who the other Guardian would be. I suppose it’s nice to have a few surprises in life!
My chest constricted, too tight to allow a full breath. Clutching the pages in one hand and the envelope in the other, I sank down to a crouch on the sidewalk with my head between my knees. Mason went a few more steps before he realized I wasn’t keeping pace with him.
“Corinne?” Alarm strained his voice. He squatted next to me, put one hand on my back, and tried to look into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m trying not to pass out,” I mumbled, panting. Black and white dots snowed my vision, and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. I shoved the pages into his hand and sat down hard on the concrete.
My brain felt like mud. That letter had to be a mistake, a joke, some crazy story my grandmother had made up. Maybe she was playing a trick on me. That had to be it. It was a practical joke, and Dorothy was in on it, too. But Dorothy didn’t have her mental faculties, so she couldn’t hold up her end of the prank.
I watched Mason’s face as he quickly skimmed the letter. It morphed from concerned to confused to shocked in a matter of seconds, almost like a cartoon.
He looked at me with his hazel eyes so wide, they seemed to bulge from his face. It was as close to panic as I’d ever seen him, and that scared me almost as much as the contents of the letter.
“It’s just, like, some silly game or something … right?” I asked, my voice small but hopeful.
“Corinne, you have got to get that bottle of white stuff to your great-aunt,” he said.
His comment confused me at first, and for a horrible second, I thought he’d been affected by the same insanity that must have caused my grandmother to write that letter. But as his words sank into the muddled mess of my brain, I realized he was making sense.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” I said.
“It’s the only thing I can think to do,” he said. “You’re grandmother was pretty clear that if she wasn’t around, Dorothy would be the one to do … whatever it is that you need. And in your dreams, she keeps saying you need to help her. It sounds like Dorothy’s in no condition to do much of anything for you. So I think that’s where you need to start, by trying to help her.”
“Okay, yeah.” At least I had a task to focus on. “I’ll try to help Aunt Dorothy.”
He took my hand and pulled me up. He held onto me for another half block, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to keel over. Another two blo
cks, and we’d reached my house. I knew Mason had to leave, but I was extremely reluctant to let him go. His presence was the last thing between the reasonably-calm me and the hysterical, howling-at-the-moon me.
He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling the waves, and gave me a troubled glance.
“I’m sorry I have to go, Corinne.” He folded me into his arms, and for a second, I felt safe, surrounded by his warmth and the earthy scent of his soap. “I’ll text you soon.”
I nodded, and he headed toward his street. Hoping no one was home, I trudged up to the door and pushed it open. I really needed a few minutes to compose myself before I had to face my family.
“In here,” Mom called from the kitchen, and I slumped a little. I’d hardly seen her in the past couple of days, so I couldn’t just breeze by her. I pulled my lips into a smile and squared my shoulders. I held the letter and envelope in one hand flat against my thigh.
“Hi!” I said, trying to match her tone. “What’re you up to?”
She looked up from the dishwasher, and I tried to hold my face in a cheerful, relaxed expression. “Just dishes and laundry. Puttering.” She looked past me. “Did Mason leave? I was hoping he’d come in. How’s he doing?”
The poor guy probably wished he’d never returned to this continent.
“He’s great,” I said. “Definitely happy to be home. I’m sure he’ll be by again soon. He, uh, said to tell you ‘hi.’ I’m going to put Grandma’s key back in Dad’s desk. We went by to make sure the house was okay.”
I edged toward the doorway so I could make my escape.
“Okay, come up in a couple hours and help me with dinner.” I nodded and kept sidestepping. “Oh, and let’s take the car out first thing in the morning.”
Crap. I had forgotten that I’d asked my mom if she’d take me to practice driving before my big test next week. I was a total pro; I could practically parallel park with my eyes shut, but I didn’t have to drive much around Tapestry, so I wanted to make sure my skills hadn’t rusted.