Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Homework. Homework first. That way Mom wouldn’t fuss about me going out tonight.

  I remembered what Mr. Carlson had said about carrying a camera, and started pawing through the stack of still-packed boxes in the corner of my room. I was pretty sure I hadn’t unpacked my digital camera yet. Of course it was in the box at the bottom of the pile. But I found it and dropped it into my backpack alongside the 35mm Carlson had given me.

  I managed to work my way through my homework before dinner. It wasn’t exactly my best work, necessarily, but it was done. Or at least, done enough that I wasn’t lying when Mom asked about it and I said I’d finished. Done enough that she didn’t give me any trouble about making a date on a school night.

  “What do you know about this boy?” was the only thing she asked, and her tone was mild. We were sitting at the kitchen table. John and Mom were eating. Kayla was alternating between scowling at me and picking at her food.

  “His father works for me,” John answered before I could open my mouth. “Josh is a good kid. Helps around the ranch sometimes.”

  And that was all it took. If Josh had John’s stamp of approval, then a school-night date was no problem.

  Note to self: enlist John’s help as often as possible. This having-a-stepfather thing might actually turn out to be handy upon occasion.

  Predictably, Kayla snarled at me as I headed back to my room to get ready for my date.

  So Josh had my stepfather’s recommendation, I had my mother’s blessing to be out on a school night, and my new stepsister would just as soon I go out with Josh if it meant leaving Mason free for her to pursue. I had finished my homework. I had taken extra care with my appearance, dressing in jeans and a tank top with a little sweater. I looked cute-but-not-too-cute, and even put on a little eyeshadow and mascara to go with my usual lip gloss.

  But none of that helped me figure out what to say to Josh. Especially when I think I would have been absolutely content to just sit in the seat next to him, watching him and sighing a lot.

  But that’s not really the kind of behavior that increases your chances for a second date.

  Well… Okay. It might be the kind of behavior that would increase your chances for a second date with some guys. But I didn’t think Josh was one of those types—especially since he kept trying to engage me in conversation.

  And it’s not like I didn’t talk at all. We discussed our favorite bands, movies, television shows—the usual. We both hated the way that emos acted—not that there were all that many of them at Fairy High, but still. We both loved cheesy 80s movies, like Dirty Dancing and Ghostbusters, but hated to admit it. And we were both embarrassed that our parents listened to country music sometimes.

  But I still kept finding myself lapsing into silence and staring at his mutable eyes. They changed color from moment to moment, from silver to blue to green and back again. Then he would blush, then I would blush, and the conversation would come to an abrupt stop.

  One of us would invariably get it going again, but still. Embarrassing.

  All of this happened while we were sipping drinks and sharing french fries at—you guessed it—Sonic. Apparently it was the place to go in Fairy, Texas. Our other option had been to see a movie, but since I’d promised Sarah to meet her at ten, none of the showtimes worked out right. So Sonic it was, and at a little before ten o’clock, he dutifully took me home and walked me to the front door of the ranch house. I wondered for a minute if he was going to kiss me, but he just smiled that amazing smile of his and said, “Good night, Laney. See you tomorrow.”

  He walked back to his car and drove off, down the dirt lane that led from John’s house to the ranch hands’ smaller houses.

  I think I was disappointed.

  Maybe.

  Anyway. Like I said, not a totally horrible date. But not an absolute success, either.

  And guess who was waiting for me when I walked in? Right. Kayla. I was beginning to think that when I wasn’t home, she didn’t do anything but hang out in the living room staring out the window and waiting for my return, just so she could pounce on me.

  “No kiss?” she asked sarcastically when I walked in. “You must be devastated.”

  I ignored her and checked my watch. At almost precisely ten o’clock, I saw headlights pull in through the ranch gate and into the driveway. I opened the door and stepped out to meet Sarah, more to get away from Kayla than anything.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi.” She scanned the front of the house anxiously.

  “Want to come in?” I asked.

  “Actually, do you think it would be okay if we went for a walk and talked?”

  “Um. Well, I guess we could. I mean—where are we going?”

  “Oh, not far. We’ll stay on the ranch.” Like that meant anything. John’s ranch had several thousand acres.

  “Sure. Let me just tell my mom.” I ducked my head into the house and called out, “Hey, Mom! I’m going for a walk with Sarah!”

  She leaned out of the kitchen. “This late?”

  “Just for a bit. We’ll stay close to the house.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Hamilton,” Sarah said, stepping up close behind me. “I’m Sarah Watkins.”

  “Hi, Sarah.” Mom waved, then turned to me. “I guess it’s okay. Home in half an hour?”

  “Sure.”

  Once we got back outside, Sarah led me down the road toward the cluster of small houses the full-time ranch hands and their families lived in. We walked for several minutes without speaking until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Okay, Sarah. What’s up? Where are we going?”

  She brushed a lock of light brown hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said in her quiet voice.

  “Believe what?”

  “Just come with me. And be really, really quiet, okay?”

  I sighed but I kept pace with her. She turned off the unpaved road before we got to the ranch-hands’ houses, and led me down a dirt track until we came to the back of an old, two-storey house made of the white limestone I’d seen everywhere since I’d gotten to Fairy. I remembered the building from the tour John had given me of the ranch. It had been on the land when John bought it; he said he had considered either tearing it down or remodeling it, but hadn’t ever gotten around to doing either. Mom had said it was “picturesque.” Right now, it was looming over me in the darkness . And there was a flickering light coming out of one window.

  Sarah put her hand out to stop me from moving forward and leaned in close to my ear. “Don’t say anything,” she hissed almost inaudibly. She took my hand and led me slowly toward the building.

  As we got closer, I could see that the windows had no glass. I could see shadows crossing the room with the light.

  What would anyone be doing out here at night, anyway? It has to be one of the ranch hands, I told myself.

  We crept up to the side of the building and flattened ourselves against the wall. Sarah crouched down. I followed her lead and we slowly inched our way over until we were both hunkered down under the window sill.

  I could hear quiet voices from the room, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

  Until someone said my name.

  I looked at Sarah, my eyes big, and she pointed up.

  I nodded and stood up part way until I could just barely see into the building.

  My breath caught in my throat—and it’s a good thing, too, because I probably would have made some noise (a gasp? a scream? maybe both, to be honest) and given us away.

  Four people occupied the room. One was a tall, thin woman in her thirties or so, someone I didn’t know. But I knew the other three. One was Mason Collier. One was Josh Bevington. And the final one was Roger Bartlef.

  Yep. Bartlef. Creepy old counselor.

  And they were talking about me.

  Chapter 5

  None of them were facing the window, so I watched for a moment.

  �
��Just because you met her first doesn’t mean she’s yours,” Josh said calmly.

  “And just because you went out on one date with her doesn’t make her yours, either,” Mason said.

  “Be quiet, both of you,” Bartlef said. “We don’t know what she is, yet. And if she is the Yatah, then technically, she’s mine.”

  “What about what happened to Cody?” Mason asked.

  “What about Cody?” Bartlef’s voice was calm. “He refused to participate. After that, he was a risk. He could have said something, especially to her.”

  I covered my mouth with both hands to keep from making a sound. Bartlef had killed Cody—or had him killed—and Mason and Josh both knew it.

  “Then why didn’t you hide him?” Josh asked. “Why leave him by the track?”

  Bartlef waved the question away with one hand, his spidery fingers flicking through the air. He looked down his nose at Josh, his eyes narrowed. “We did not hide him. The two boys who were supposed to be disposing of him heard her coming, and panicked. They left the body there. They have been dealt with.” He stepped away from the boys and moved toward the woman. Behind him, Josh and Mason looked at one another. Josh shook his head in warning.

  The woman stood up and moved to meet Bartlef in the middle of the room. Her hair was streaked with red and blonde, and her brown eyes bugged out a little from her long, narrow face. “If the girl is the Yatah, then she could be the key we’ve been looking for,” she said. “We couldn’t have Cody destroying our chances to control her.” She turned toward the window.

  I quickly ducked back down under the window sill and stared at Sarah. I knew that my eyes must be absolutely huge.

  Sarah nodded and put her finger to her lips. Then she slipped silently away from the window and back down the dirt path.

  When we got back to the unpaved road, I had reached my being-quiet-so-the-creepy-guys-can’t-hear-us limit.

  “What the hell was that?” I demanded in a loud whisper. I would have yelled, but I was still too freaked out by what I had seen and heard. “And what’s a ‘ya-taw’?!”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know everything,” she said. “Actually, I don’t know much at all. But I thought you should know.”

  “Know what, exactly?” I asked. “I don’t know what any of that meant.”

  “Come on,” Sarah said. “You’re supposed to be home in five minutes.” She began walking back toward John’s house.

  I trotted a few steps to catch up with her.

  “Do you think you can sneak out of your house tonight?” she asked.

  “God, I don’t know. Why? Is there more?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Can’t you just tell me?”

  “I would. Seriously, I mean it.” She grabbed my arm and stopped to look me in the eye. “But I just don’t know enough to give you the whole story.”

  “Then give me what you do know.”

  She started walking again. “I will, if you’ll meet me again. At midnight.”

  Midnight. Of course it would have to be midnight. Right? I mean, a secret maybe even black-magicky group, led by a creepy old man with usually invisible giant bat wings was meeting in an abandoned house on a ranch just outside of Fairy, Texas. When else would they meet?

  “Midnight,” I said.

  “See you then,” Sarah said.

  We didn’t speak again. When we got to the house, I went inside and she drove away.

  “I’m back, Mom!” I called, hoping my voice didn’t show how shaken I was.

  She came out of the bedroom she shared with John, toothbrush in hand. “Okay, sweetie,” she said. “Have a good night.”

  * * *

  Waiting is just about my least favorite thing in the world, I decided as I sat in my darkened bedroom, staring at the red numbers on my clock.

  11:30.

  The house had grown silent. I listened intently, then moved quietly to my window and slid it open. Then I stopped again. Listened some more.

  Mom and John’s room was on the opposite end of the house, so I wasn't as worried about them.

  I was certain that Kayla, on the other hand, would just love to catch me sneaking out of the house. She'd be positively gleeful.

  But I didn't hear any sounds from her room, either.

  11:33.

  The clock seemed really bright, and I had to wait for my eyes to readjust to the darkness after checking it for about the forty bajillionth time in the last hour. I stared at the screen in front of me. A little tab on each corner looked promising. I tugged on the two bottom ones, and the screen popped out of its frame with a hideous screech. I froze. Listened. Still no sound.

  11:37.

  Okay, then. I slowly released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I slid the screen out of the top part of the window and eased it to the ground. I leaned out and scanned the back of the house. The window was fairly low, at least. I wasn't going to have to jump far.

  11:42.

  I moved back to my bed and sat down again. I would give it until 11:50, I decided, and then head out to meet Sarah. The numbers on the clock seemed to creep by, and every little creak of the house made me jumpy, but eventually the time did pass.

  I stopped long enough to grab my backpack and swung it out of the window in front of me. If there was something weird going on at the old house, I was going to document it.

  I realized as the pack left my hand and landed on the ground that it was heavier than usual—it still contained the 35mm Mr. Carlson had given me. The thud as it hit the ground made me cringe.

  I climbed out of the window as quietly as possible, and dropped to the ground.

  Sarah was already waiting for me at the corner of the house. She put her finger to her lips and headed toward the old place. I nodded and followed. This time we didn't talk at all.

  I'd spent the last hour and a half trying to figure out what her place was in all this—or, for that matter, what "all this" was. I was dying to make her tell me everything she knew, but I didn't want to risk anyone hearing us talking. God knows we were making enough noise stomping down the unpaved road and crashing through the underbrush around the house. At least, that's how it seemed to me.

  Once again, we made our way up to the window with the flickering light, and slid down so we were just beneath it. Again, I could hear voices inside, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

  It sounded like they were chanting.

  Great.

  Andrew had been right. Bartlef got students together and did creepy rituals late at night.

  And lucky me, I was spending lots and lots of time with his two main disciples, Mason and Josh.

  Wow. Have I mentioned how not glad I was that Mom had moved us to Fairy? We should have known better. I mean, who names their town “Fairy,” anyway? Hadn’t that one weirdness been enough to warn her off?

  I took a deep breath and prepared to stand up enough to peer into the window.

  The droning sound of the chanting inside came to a sudden stop. Sarah and I looked at each other, eyes wide. I held the breath I'd just taken.

  And then we heard Bartlef speaking. I still couldn't understand what he was saying. It wasn't English, I knew it wasn't French. And after only two days in class, I was almost certain it wasn't Spanish. The sounds were too harsh and guttural.

  I released my breath in a slow stream of air and eased my hand into my bag. I pulled out the digital camera, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back against the stone wall behind me.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  I turned the camera on and winced as its electronic whine buzzed through the still night air. I quickly turned it back off and listened for any pause in the strange words coming through the window.

  Nope. Still lots of creepy talking.

  Sarah stared at me, her hands over her mouth. She looked terrified.

  I pulled out the 35mm and uncapped the lens. I looked through the viewfinder. I wouldn’t be able to see the r
esults as quickly as I would if I used my digital, but at least I’d get some pictures. And the 35 wouldn’t make as much noise. Just one little click of the shutter. I hoped there was enough light in the room.

  Again, I took a deep breath. This time I risked a glance inside the window and quickly sank back down. There were more people in the room now than there had been earlier. I didn’t recognize everyone, but Josh and Mason were still there, as were Bartlef and the tall, skinny woman. They were all standing in a rough semi-circle with Bartlef at the front. None of them directly faced the window. And none of them seemed concerned that the window was open.

  Okay. Good. Here we go.

  I rose into a crouch and pulled the camera into rough focus. I snapped several shots, cringing every time the shutter clicked. Just as I was about to pull my eye away from the viewfinder, Josh turned his head toward the window and looked directly at me.

  I wish I could say that I slipped out of sight and off into the night. But I didn’t.

  I froze.

  Josh and I stared at each other over the camera.

  I waited for him to interrupt Bartlef, to yell, to point.

  Instead, he slowly and deliberately broke eye contact with me and turned back to face Bartlef.

  My knees gave out and I sank to the ground, teeth chattering and heart pounding.

  Sarah tugged at my arm and gesticulated, clearly wanting to know what had happened but too afraid to risk speaking aloud.

  I shook my head and concentrated on slowing my breathing.

  Sarah started motioning to me to get up and leave, but again I shook my head. I put my finger to my lips, then tapped my ear and pointed toward the window. Sarah huddled back down as close to the stone wall as she could get.

  Bartlef’s strange intoning stopped and he began speaking English.

  For a moment I was glad I could understand him.

  Then I realized what he was saying in his rough, too-high voice.

  “It seems likely, then, that Laney Harris is the Yatah.” His comment was met with murmuring from the small crowd around him.

  Outside, Sarah grabbed my hand and squeezed.

  “We will leave it to Mason and Josh to find out more. You must both befriend the girl, spend as much time with her as possible.”