by Jayne Faith
“Come on,” I cajoled. “You don’t have to let me read it, but at least tell me what you’re so interested in. You know, in the name of partner bonding or whatever. Or do we need to go back to Stein?”
He brushed one hand over the cover of the notebook in a gesture that was almost a caress. Whatever was inside was meaningful for him, I suddenly realized.
“I’m collecting data,” he said at a near-whisper, clearly not wanting Johnny or Roxanne to overhear. “Observations about things that seem to influence magic.”
“Huh.” I peered at him. “You went to college, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Two degrees.”
“In?”
“Bachelor of Modern Magic Arts and Sciences with an emphasis in research. Master’s in the same.”
The look on his face was so sincere and solemn, I couldn’t bring myself to rib him about being a high-minded academic in a blue-collar job.
“Sounds interesting,” I said, and actually kind of meant it. I wasn’t the bookish type and always felt antsy and trapped in a classroom. “Is this independent research you’re doing?”
“Yeah. An extension of something I worked on for my master’s, you could say.”
I wanted to probe more, less due to any academic interest on my part as suspicion that his presence in Boise somehow related to his project, but Johnny had stood and was making motions to head out.
I reached for my phone to check the time, and my eyes bugged—it was past eleven. “Yikes, I didn’t realize how late it was.” I pointed at Roxanne with a mock-stern look. “You need to get to bed, young lady.”
Johnny gave Roxanne’s arm a squeeze and moved toward the door. “I need to get going, but give me a ring if anything comes up, okay?” he said to me.
“Will do, thanks for everything.” I lifted my hand in a little wave.
Stein—no, Damien—was packing up his things. “I’ll get out of your hair, too. See you at work,” he said to me. He turned to Roxanne. “Sleep tight.”
“Thanks for the pizza!” she chirped.
I went to the door with him, digging into my pocket. “Here, let me give you some cash for the food.”
He waved off my offer. “It’s on me. You can get it next time.”
I nodded. “Thanks. See you in the morning.”
I locked the door behind him and then showed Roxanne to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth and change into her pajamas. While I was waiting for her, I let Loki in and moved the living room furniture around so I could pull out the hide-a-bed in the sofa.
She came out in baggy cut-off sweatpants that looked like they might have been her brother’s at some point, and an oversized t-shirt. I pulled an extra set of sheets and a fleece blanket from the built-in cupboard next to the bathroom, and she helped me make the bed. After she climbed in, I shut off the overhead lights, leaving on only the lamp next to the sofa, and sat down next to her. I scratched at the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward. Did someone her age want to be tucked in? What was the protocol here?
She saved me by pulling a hardback book stamped with “Boise Public Library” on the edges from her bag and scooting down under the covers. “I like to read for a while before I go to sleep.” She clutched the book and glanced around the room with a slightly forlorn look on her face.
I nodded. “I want you to know I’ll be talking to someone at Gregori about your brother tomorrow. And in the meantime, I’ve been assured that he’s okay and nothing bad is going to happen to him. I’m going to take a quick shower and then turn in. You know where to find me if you need anything during the night.”
She managed a small smile. “Thank you for helping me, Ella. I know you’ll get him back.”
I patted her leg and then stood. I hoped I could live up to her faith in me. I was well aware of why I was so invested—I saw enough of myself and Evan in her situation with her brother—but knowing why I felt the tugs on my heartstrings didn’t seem to matter. I genuinely wanted to see things work out okay for her, and some part of me felt that if I could help it might redeem my failure with Evan just a smidge.
In the bathroom, I turned on the hot water and then typed out a text to Damien and Johnny.
I have a meeting with Jacob at the G campus tomorrow after work. He seems to want to help, but I’m not so sure. Claims the boy is safe. More tomorrow.
I hit send, stripped out of my uniform, and stepped under the water. As I scrubbed off the day, weariness seeped into my bones and settled there. I heard a series of pings as texts came in. After I shut off the water and dried with a towel, I picked up my phone to check them.
From Johnny: I’ll go with you. Even if I can’t go in, someone should be there waiting to make sure you come back out.
Another one from Johnny, this one sent only to me: ‘Night, sugar. Followed by winky-face and kissy-lips emojis. I rolled my eyes.
The text from Damien read: I wouldn’t trust Gregori. You’re right to be on guard. I hope you can sway him.
Wrapped in a towel, I tiptoed out of the bathroom. Roxanne’s book had fallen to the floor, and she was sound asleep. Loki was curled up next to her, and his head rose when I came over to put the book on the side table and turn out the lamp.
“’Night, boy,” I whispered.
In my bedroom, I closed the door and switched on the bedside light. Once in my old Demon Patrol Recruit shirt, I pulled out the bag from Nature’s Light that I’d stashed in the nightstand drawer. I glanced at the door, hesitating. The spell should put me into a solid sleep, but not an all-out coma. If Roxanne needed me, she’d be able to rouse me.
The lady had included a cheap aluminum holder for the spell candle, as well as a book of matches printed with the store’s name and logo. I fitted the candle in the holder, and set it on the nightstand.
Scanning quickly through the instructions, I realized I needed to move the candle to the dresser so it was on the east side of the room. I did so and struck a match, lit it, and then climbed in bed. As instructed, I sat for a moment with my eyes closed, clearing my mind and pulling in my focus. It was the same little exercise I did whenever I tried to draw up some magic—every crafter had his or her own way of preparing the mind—and I took more time than usual to make sure I was centered and could feel the tingle of receptivity in my hands and feet, the signal that I’d mentally cleared the way. It’s akin to placing a finger on a light switch but not yet flipping it.
Still holding my focus, I clutched the muslin bag in my left hand, drew up a thin wisp of magic from the earth, and whispered the words of the spell the woman had written for me. I sealed my intent by releasing my connection to the earth magic. Further worn out from expelling energy for magic and already feeling the pull of sleep from the spell, I put the muslin bag under my pillow, dropped the piece of paper on the bedside table, and turned out the light. I passed out within seconds.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, I jolted awake. With my heart pounding in my throat, I blinked in the darkness of my bedroom. Something had pulled me from sleep. My first thought was Roxanne, but I could see by the weak street light coming in through the window that I was alone.
I tried to sink back and lay down, but my muscles refused to obey. I sat there rigidly, wanting to move but unable to.
I forced my breathing to slow, trying to calm the panic and adrenaline that rushed through me. The spell must have misfired. Maybe it had brought on sleep paralysis. If I could just relax, it would probably subside.
I waited, listening to the sound of my breath, as a few seconds ticked by. But instead of regaining control of my body, my limbs began to shift in ways that I was not commanding them to. I gasped and tried to scream but produced only a weak exhalation.
Something had taken control of me.
My terror deepened as I watched my hand push back the covers, and my feet swing to the floor. Like a puppet with no will of its own, I moved under the power of an unseen influence. It forced me to walk to the bedroom door and out i
nto the living room. It brought me to a pause near Roxanne, who was still sleeping. Loki’s eyes shone orange in the darkness, and his rumbling growl swelled as he jumped from the bed.
With every fiber of my being, I tried to fight what was happening, but my efforts failed to halt my progress toward the front door and only brought a sheen of sweat to slick my skin. I stared in horror as I watched my own fingers fumble with the deadbolt. My hand unlocked the door and then opened it. My feet carried me outside, across the porch, and down the steps to the sidewalk.
I was powerless, and I had no idea where the invisible force was taking me.
Chapter 9
HAYS STREET WAS dark and dead silent. I supposed that was good because even if there were people around I couldn’t form words to ask for help. If anyone saw me clomping zombie-like down the sidewalk in my pajamas and bare feet, I’d probably just get picked up by the police. Possibly committed. Or worst case, mistaken for an actual zombie, though these days the only remaining zombies were kept in containment for study.
I was going to have to ride this out. Whatever had assumed control of me couldn’t hold on forever. At least, that’s what hoped. I wished like hell I’d told someone I was going to use a sleeping spell. For the second time in two days, my assumption that I could manage everything on my own had backfired massively.
Only my pounding heart and my near-hyperventilating breaths seemed to be still under my power, so I focused on trying to calm them. The shadows were writhing in my periphery, like wraiths performing a furious, fevered dance of glee. I couldn’t explain how, but I was sure the shadows were celebrating, happy that I was forced to move under the control of something that wasn’t me. My gut told me that the something was connected to the shadows, and to the thing that had pounded in my temples and fed me nightmare visions since my accident. Somehow I knew it was the other, now no longer occupying just a corner of my mind but out full-force and in charge.
Wincing internally as my bare feet plunked onto pebbles, I hoped there wasn’t any broken glass on the sidewalk. I was heading west on Hays, passing old houses that had been divided into apartments like mine and homes that had been converted to small businesses. Only a couple of windows were illuminated from within, either night owls still up or lights that had been left on. No one looked out, and no cars passed. I half wondered what would happen if someone approached me. Would the other carry me away on my own running feet? Attack somehow? Force words out of my mouth?
At the intersection of Fifteenth and Hays, it turned me left. We were heading toward State Street and a stretch of businesses.
We. I shuddered internally.
There would be street lights and likely at least a little traffic. Albertsons came into view up ahead to my right. I knew the grocery store was closed at this late hour, but there was a gas station across from it that was lit up like Christmas twenty-four hours a day. And yes, up ahead on State, I saw a couple of cars motor past. When I got half a block away from State Street, a white SUV pulled into the gas station. The driver, a man with glasses, peered through the windshield at me. He stepped out, watching me for a moment.
“Hey, are you okay?” he called out. “Do you need help?”
I lost sight of him, as the other didn’t allow me to turn my head to look at the man or respond. A car whizzed past ahead of me on State, and a scruffy-haired dude leaned out of a back window to whistle and holler at me. I caught a glimpse of his leering face and suddenly it hit me in a new way just how vulnerable I was.
I heard the SUV’s door slam, and strained in vain to turn and see if the man at the gas station would try to approach me. But a moment later the rhythmic sound of the gas pump filling his vehicle told me he wasn’t coming after me. I forgot about him as I faced a new concern. I’d come to State Street, and the light ahead was red with a solid don’t-walk sign illuminated. My feet weren’t stopping. The other wasn’t going to wait for a green light.
My heart hammered as I became aware of multiple sets of headlights out both sides of my periphery. Unsure exactly how far away the approaching cars were, I held my breath as my right foot moved off the curb and into the road. I reached the midpoint across the four-lane street, my skin slicked with cold sweat. I strained to send signals to my legs, but it was as if the connection had been snipped. My brain tried to command my muscles, but they didn’t get the message. Was this how it felt to be paralyzed? The disconnect was maddening in how deeply wrong it felt, and a new wave of nauseous fear rose up through me.
A horn blared to my left as a car swerved and passed behind me. The car approaching on the right didn’t seem to be slowing. A soft, long squeak escaped my lips as I continued helplessly, unable to even brace for an impact. Tires squealed against asphalt and headlights glared. The driver leaned on the horn and cursed at me and then swerved around me and sped away.
By the time I reached the curb and my feet carried me back onto the sidewalk, my chest heaved with shaking breaths. With the danger of State Street behind me, I noticed the stinging on the bottoms of my feet. My soles were probably bleeding.
Then there was a noise behind me, a scuff of feet. I was away from the street lights and standing next to a building that housed a real estate company. The parking lot was empty, and the building was dark. The sounds of quick footfalls sent my heart jumping into my throat. My own feet slowed, and I gasped as the unseen force swiveled me around, presumably to see who’d followed me.
A dog stood a dozen feet away. Not just a dog—my dog, Loki. I tried to say his name, but of course I couldn’t. Even in the dark I could see his hackles spiked along his spine. His growl rumbled louder and louder, like a fast-approaching train, and his eyes flared into two burning coals. The growling deepened into snarls, and dread washed through me. What if he attacked me? He’d seemed friendly, but I’d only had him for a day.
I felt my arm lift and dropped my gaze to my outstretched fist. My entire body began to tremble, and I swayed a little as something began to fill me. I felt the first tiny tendrils of relief, thinking that the new sensation meant I was regaining control. But I still couldn’t move, and I realized that whatever was happening now was even worse than before. It was a sensation I’d never felt, and it was horrifying, as if death and horror had liquefied and replaced the blood in my veins. It throbbed and hurt and made me wish I could shed my own skin and run away screaming. The feeling bubbled through me and seemed to pour into my outstretched arm, concentrating in my closed fist. My hand sprang open, my fingers splayed, and the air rippled outward like waves over the surface of a pond.
The ripple slammed Loki hard, blowing him back ass over teakettle, and his snarls turned to high-pitched whimpers and then went quiet. I didn’t get a chance to see whether he was still alive before the other steered me back around and forced my feet to march.
Drained of whatever dark power I’d just expelled, terror mixed with nausea. My knees wanted to buckle and my stomach tried to retch, but the other didn’t allow either. It pushed me onward toward the deeper darkness of a block with ramshackle houses that were mostly abandoned, some deteriorated past the point of any salvage effort. It was one of those blocks that you passed on the way to somewhere else without looking around too hard because the houses were depressing shells of gaping windows and peeling paint.
A ten-foot high chain-link fence with “keep out” signs surrounded one of them, and that was where my feet halted. The other turned me to face the house, a three-story structure with a steep roof. From my vantage point it looked as if part of the house had burned. It was hard to tell in the dark, but one side of the top story appeared to have a charred hole through the roof, and dark burn stains smeared upward from the broken-out windows on that side. Other than the fire damage, it didn’t look as bad as some of the other houses nearby. As I peered at the abandoned house, the nauseous dark magic began to fill me again. My eyes rolled back, and for a moment I thought I might pass out—and actually kind of hoped I would. I swayed and blinked several times, and
when I focused again my breath snagged in my throat.
I was seeing the house through the dream eyes, the ones that gave me visions hued in yellows and blues. And through the eyes of the other, I saw that the house wasn’t vacant. A pale yellow glow of light shifted around inside. A human form with a sallow face suddenly appeared at one of the windows. I sucked in a breath and tried to take a step back, but my feet moved me forward instead. Against my will, I stepped closer to the fence, my arms lifting to push my palms against the chain link.
More shapes passed behind the windows. I tried to understand what I was seeing, but there was nothing familiar about it. I had no context for the yellow and blue flickering images lighting up the house that had appeared empty only a moment ago. But one thing was certain: the other wanted to get in there. I was moving along the fence, my hands trailing across it as my feet shuffled sideways. I knew the other was looking for a way in. There was no gate, not on the street side at least. It lifted my hands from the fence and planted them higher, curling my fingers to grip the criss-cross links.
Oh shit, it wanted to make me climb.
It didn’t seem to have a great grasp on my body mechanics, at first trying to flex my arms to dead-lift my body upward. One hand slipped and my chin hit the fence, scraping painfully as I dropped several inches. It tried again, and again I slipped, this time ripping a couple of nails. My hands rattled the fence, displaying the other’s frustration.
Again, it forced my hands into a tight grip on the chain link. Then my right foot lifted, and I winced as it jammed forward into the fence, finding a partial foothold. My other foot lifted and did the same, and then my hands moved higher one at a time. It was slow going, but to my horror I was actually moving upward. I watched the flickers and movements inside the house. It reminded me of a haunted Halloween house . . . and all at once I knew. The things inside were ghosts. I’d never seen them myself, but witches with grave talents could see ghosts.