Her apartment was an alternate universe compared to the rest of the Cockroach Apartments. Deep red and brown checkered squares decorated her living room furniture. A Mexican and an American flag hung side by side on one wall inside large picture frames. Several pieces of artwork that Mrs. Rios had once brought to school to show the class bordered a large wooden bookshelf. The smell of warm chocolate chip cookies tickled my nose, but it also crushed me with the memory of Mom’s baking. It was strange how much different smells reminded me of her.
I coughed to clear the knot of emotion from my throat. “You have a nice home.”
She bit her lip while she shut the door behind us. “Thank you. Have a seat. I’ll get the cookies.” She went around a corner, out of sight. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“No thanks,” we chorused and sat on the couch.
Mrs. Rios came back with three cookies and three napkins. Apprehension mixed with the saliva in my mouth. Why was everything three?
“Here you go.” She gave me a napkin and plopped a warm cookie on it.
I bit into gooey heaven and swallowed the cookie in two bites. Now there weren’t three cookies anymore.
“Thank you,” I said once I’d swallowed.
“Ya, thick oo,” Jo said through a mouthful.
Mrs. Rios sat across from us in a cozy-looking recliner.
Just before she bit into her cookie, I asked, “Where is the Trammeler?”
She closed her mouth and set the cookie and napkin in her lap, avoiding my gaze. “Hunting.”
“Hunting where?”
Jo wiped her mouth. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced at Jo. She would need to hear this eventually. Might as well be now.
I arched an eyebrow at Mrs. Rios. “Hunting where?”
Her gaze settled on the cookie in her lap. “In Wichita, I think.”
“Wichita?” My voice came out as a whisper. “But…”
“Who’s hunting?” Jo asked as her face screwed up in confusion.
I squeezed my wadded napkin in my fist. “Why Wichita? And how do you know all this?”
Jo raised her hand. “I don’t know what we’re talking about.”
“My husband was a Trammeler,” Mrs. Rios said, her voice so low I had to lean forward to hear her.
“Your husband…was?”
Tears shined in her eyes. “Gretchen killed him sixteen years ago on our wedding day.” She tore off a chunk of cookie and popped it in her mouth while the tears spilled over.
“Trammeler. Tram,” Jo said. I could practically hear the gears in her head churning.
I leaned forward even more. “Why Wichita?”
Mrs. Rios wiped her cheek and swallowed. “There’s a…woman who lives there. A dangerous woman who is helping One and Two.”
“Who is she?” I demanded.
“That news woman who was hanging around the school,” Mrs. Rios said. “Ica Reynolds from Wichita’s channel thirteen news. I knew she was rotten since the day I met her.”
“Wh—Why?” The air in the apartment became too thick. I dragged in a breath. “Why would someone want to help them?”
Mrs. Rios looked at me for a long moment with her eyebrows pushed together, forehead puckering. “I suspect Ica hopes helping them will be her gift for the dead. She wants to be Three.”
“She can have it.” I tugged at my shirt collar, suddenly wishing I hadn’t eaten that cookie so fast. “She can be a dead Sorceress.”
Jo paused mid-lick up her finger. “Did you just say Sorceress?”
“No.” Mrs. Rios stood and circled around to the back of the recliner. “No one can be Three, Leigh. Gretchen is pure evil, and if the Sorceresses free her from the Core—” She gripped the top of the chair until her knuckles turned white. “—Gretchen and her cult will be the least of our worries. Between the cult, Ica, One and Two, and the rest of his duties, the Trammeler is already stretched too thin. Not to mention he’s only been on the job for six months with no one to train him.”
“Why aren’t there more Trammelers who can help?” I asked.
More tears striped her cheeks. “There used to be many. It was a highly respected job that only the bravest could get. But One and Two made everyone afraid, and no one wants the dangerous job of going after them.”
Jo’s gaze slid back and forth between us. “Who’s One and Two? Who’s Gretchen? What’s the Core?”
Tram wasn’t afraid, though. A rush of pride for him swelled through me. He was willing to go after One and Two, face their power, and not run away from it. All by himself with no one to show him how. I wished he was here so I could pin a purple heart on him and kiss his bravery.
“Has anyone heard from him lately?” I asked.
Mrs. Rios shook her head.
That meant nothing. Even though my stomach knotted, it meant nothing. He was busy hunting. That was all. The napkin grew hot in my fist, so I forced my grip to relax and leaned back against the couch.
“Do you know what I did?” I asked.
Swiping her dark hair and the rest of her tears away, Mrs. Rios sat up straighter and gazed at me. “I know. Ms. Hansen read your past from your hair. But she also told me why you did what you did.”
“What did you do, Leigh?” Jo asked.
“She sacrificed herself,” Mrs. Rios said, looking at me the way Mom used to when I did something right. I looked away and traced a red square on the couch cushion. “To save her sister.”
“Save Darby?” Jo’s forehead creased over eyes full of concern. “From what? Leigh, what’s going on?”
“Oh, Jo,” I said, shaking my head, “everything is so messed—”
Mrs. Rios’s sharp gasp interrupted me. She tilted her head, listening. “No,” she whispered and stepped around the recliner toward me. “You have to go. Now.”
A second later, I knew why. The smell of chocolate chip cookies no longer tickled my nose. Now I smelled death.
Terror surged through my body. I grasped Jo’s arm and pulled her up from the couch. But before I could do anything else, the door of Mrs. Rios’s apartment slammed inward.
One and Two stood in the hallway, dingy scraps of clothing flapping around them in a powerful gale, their glowing blue eyes fixed on me.
“Run!” I yelled and pushed Jo toward the kitchen.
Something white sprang up in the edges of my vision. I turned. Huge, lacy wings had burst from Mrs. Rios’s back and lifted her from the floor. I stared in disbelief while she hovered in front of One and Two.
The rotten dead smell grew in intensity. Jo, her breath coming in quick gasps, gagged behind me.
I dug my nails into her arm and pushed her. “Go.”
She disappeared around the kitchen corner.
“You will not enter,” Mrs. Rios growled. A beam of white light shot from her mouth and pushed against One and Two.
They flew out the door, which slammed shut behind them. The white light stretched across the door and along the entire wall. It sizzled and cracked with whatever kind of power it was made of.
Mrs. Rios snapped her mouth shut and turned to me. The glow behind her shone through her fluttering wings and cast faint shadows over the couch. Eyes wide, she pointed to the kitchen. “Run!”
But I couldn’t. Shuddering waves rolled through me, locking me in place.
The door ripped from its hinges and flew toward Mrs. Rios. She lunged to the side, wings beating furiously. One and Two stepped through the white barrier like it was nothing more than a shaft of sunlight. Their whispers swelled over the pops of electricity in the glow as they entered.
Hands fisted at her sides, another beam of light burst from Mrs. Rios’s mouth.
Between the beats of my Spanish teacher’s wings, both Sorceressi widened their sagging mouths and hissed. Dark shadows materialized under their feet. Some of the inky black rushed backward and draped over the glow along the wall behind them. The rest shot forward and met Mrs. Rios’s light in mid-air. With a loud crac
kle, the shadows snuffed the light out.
Mrs. Rios moaned and fell to her knees. Her wings drooped behind her back. The shorter Sorceress hissed, and Mrs. Rios’s body slammed sideways against the far wall. The glass over the American flag shattered on impact and hailed down on her as she slumped to the floor.
“No!” I backed away, feeling One and Two’s eyes pointed at me, and stared at my teacher’s crumpled body and bent wings. “Mrs. Rios?”
One and Two stepped forward and blocked my path. The shorter Sorceress vanished. A half second later, Jo’s scream ripped through the apartment.
I turned my back on the other one and ran. My heart beat itself into a frenzy. I raced through the kitchen. Panic squeezed my neck and strangled my cries for Jo. I tore down a hallway.
The Sorceress disappeared inside a room, and I followed. On the other side of a bed, Jo perched on top of a small desk under a window and tried to force it open. The Sorceress strode toward her.
“Get away from her,” I shouted and skirted around the Sorceress to face her.
She stopped walking. Her black mouth lolled open further while her blue eyes sliced through me.
“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”
The second Sorceress rounded the doorway at a leisurely pace to join the first. Both their thin bodies barred the path to the door. Their horrible mouths stretched into grins and revealed more darkness instead of teeth.
“Leigh,” Jo said, her voice trembling, “we can jump.”
I glanced behind me at Jo’s ghostly pale face. Cool air from the open window lifted papers from the desk and scattered them across the floor.
As I turned back to the Sorceressi, I took one step backward. Maybe we could jump and escape. But we were three floors up. Which was worse? Broken bones and possible death or definite death to join One and Two? It didn’t take long to decide. I took another step back.
One of the Sorceressi, her eyes never leaving mine, lifted her arm toward Jo and flicked her wrist.
Jo gasped behind me, and as I turned to look, her body soared out the window.
I stared at the place where she’d been a second ago. Jo. Not here. Three floors down. I fought for a breath, but icy hands on my skin chilled the attempt.
One and Two stood on either side of me, grazing my bare arms with three fingers. Their touch left a trail of frost from my wrists up to my head. Whispers filled the room. When their fingers rested on my temples, I finally made out one of their whispered words.
Three.
Their whispers intensified. A blue light rose from the floor and surrounded us, then it vanished as quickly as it had come.
It was done. I’d been chosen.
My eyes closed when their icy touch left me. I backed away and bumped into the desk. Rain from the open window splattered on the wood and splashed up my arm.
I was Three. That realization lanced my skin with poison needles. I would die and come back through Sarah’s grave. I would help chaos escape from the Core to the surface of the Earth. Tears rolled down my face, and I let them.
Needing some kind of support now more than ever, I leaned against the desk. My hand brushed something cold and metal on the side. I held it with my hand and glanced at the Sorceressi.
They were kneeling on the carpet, facing each other, eyes closed, still blocking the door. Their hands hovered over the beige carpet. They appeared to be listening during the occasional breaks in their whispers. Were they talking to Gretchen about their chosen Three?
I shivered and glanced at the metal thing attached to the desk. It was a drawer handle. While glancing at One and Two to make sure they didn’t open their eyes, I opened it. Among the pens and pencils, metal gleamed with the dull light spilling from the window. A letter opener. I cupped it in my fist. The blade dug into the skin just above my wrist when I held my arm to my side, hiding it from view.
Maybe I didn’t have to be Three. If there wasn’t a One or a Two, there couldn’t be a Three. Tram said there needed to be three of them to be powerful enough to open the Core and free Gretchen.
I clutched the letter opener tight. Thoughts of Jo and Mrs. Rios spun in my mind until I felt dizzy. If they were dead, then these two bitches deserved to die, too. I took a step toward one of them, watching her closed eyes. Another step closer. I glanced at the other one, but her eyes were still closed, too. The metal grew slick in my sweaty palm. I breathed through my mouth so I wouldn’t have to smell their rot. Another step. One more, and I would be close enough.
I took another step and plunged the tip down at the nearest Sorceressi’s chest. Her blue eyes snapped open, and she grabbed my hand before the letter opener sank into her. Both Sorceressi hissed. My body blew over the bed, out the door, and slammed into the hallway wall as if I was nothing more than a piece of Kansas litter. The door banged shut behind me. I fell to the floor in a heap.
Struggling to my feet, I touched the goose egg forming on the back of my head and winced. My fingers came away bloody. I squeezed the letter opener pressed into my palm.
“I won’t be your Three without a fight,” I yelled. But right then, there were too many other things to worry about.
I rushed down the hallway and raced through the kitchen, wishing for two things. That Mrs. Rios was okay and that what I found outside on the ground underneath the window wouldn’t break me. But Mrs. Rios wasn’t even here.
Puddles of blood spotted the carpet where she’d been. Slivers of glass from the picture frame lay sprinkled about like raindrops. Where was she?
Barreling through the hole in the wall that used to be the front door, I rushed for the stairs. The red carpet reminded me of a river of blood. My legs swept me downstream as if they had a will of their own. I needed to know, but I didn’t want to see what was outside.
The letter opener dug into my clenched fist, and I flung it aside. I rounded the back of the building at top speed and raced across the woodchips even faster.
“Jo,” I cried.
“Leigh, get me down from here!” She was hanging upside down between the third and second stories, pulling at her skirt so it wouldn’t fall down around her neck.
Exertion and relief stole my voice until it was just a whisper. “I will.” I looked up and realized I stood next to a massive dead black tree. Lightning split the heavy gray sky in half behind its warped branches, freeing fat raindrops. “Are you caught on something?”
“The back of my skirt.” Jo dipped closer to the ground with a loud tearing sound. “Oh, goddessess. Leigh, hurry.”
The tree was the only way up to her. I hurried to the base and found a foothold, but my boot slid off the rain-slicked black bark. Another foothold offered better grip, and I swung myself up.
Raindrops soaked the tree’s limbs and my hands while I climbed. I went as slow as possible so I wouldn’t slip. The cold wet seeped into the butt of my jeans while I scooted along the top of a branch that reached out to Jo’s foot.
Jo plunged closer to the ground with another rip. Her whimpers lost themselves in a sudden gust of wind.
I dug my fingernails into the wet bark and kept scooting. My eyes were glued on Jo. I’d almost reached her. My weight dipped the branch so that she could grab onto it. Almost.
“You can’t reach it?” I asked.
Jo stretched her arms out further, no longer caring that she showed the world her bare legs and pink Hello Kitty underwear. Her fingertips brushed the branch, but she couldn’t grasp it. “No. It’s too high.”
I scooted further. The width of the branch was now about as skinny as my leg.
Jo reached for it when it sagged closer to her. Her fingers grabbed hold and she let out a shaky breath. “Oh, thank you, Leigh.”
“You’re not down yet. Just hang on.” I used the wall of the apartment building as leverage so I could get my feet underneath me. Heart hammering, I positioned my boots on the wet bark. My hands climbed the wall Spider-Man style while I straightened. I willed myself not to look down so I gl
anced sideways. A long slender piece of metal jutted through Jo’s skirt. A royal blue KU flag dripped down the wall behind her. “You’re caught on a flagpole.”
“Thank you, flagpole.”
As I reached toward it, Jo’s skirt gave a final tear. She was free. But the sudden weight of her hanging from the branch bucked me off. I clawed at the wall, but it was too late. I was already falling.
I lashed out, trying to find anything to grab onto. My stomach leaped and twirled in mad circles. Something slashed into my arm.
Then it was over. I wasn’t falling anymore. My sudden stop made me gasp.
“Leigh!”
I moved my lips to answer, but didn’t hear anything come out. What had stopped my fall? It was something solid and warm, and smelled like rich soil and sun-kissed afternoons. I looked up, and my throat trapped my next breath.
Tram. He cradled me in his arms, his face covered in bruises and struck with terror.
Above him, the sky continued to wring out its soggy load. The gray clouds faded to black, and I let the darkness take me.
“Leigh, wake up.”
Someone shook me. I wished they would stop. Raindrops plinked around me and fell on my face, gathering above my eyelids. My arm screamed with pain. Someone touched the part that hurt the most.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice cracking.
“It’s me. Jo. Wake up, Leigh.”
My eyes fluttered open, sending more drops down my cheeks. “Jo? You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she sobbed. Sheets of rain plastered her brassy hair to her face. Rivulets of water blended with her tears.
“Where’s Mrs. Rios?”
“I don’t know.” Jo hugged herself. She was crouched in a duck-squat next to me.
Wood chips dug into my back. Had I only imagined landing in Tram’s arms? So much for wishful thinking.
A slow pressure built on my sore arm and took me from my thoughts. When I turned my head to see who I was about to punch, relief welled up inside me. “Tram.”
He fussed with the ends of a torn strip from Jo’s skirt, which was wrapped around my arm like a bandage, and wouldn’t meet my eyes. The swollen bruises on his face emphasized the deep red welts slashed across his forehead and cheeks.
The Grave Winner Page 13