Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  We ate the rest of our lunch in companionable silence. After that, she joined me every day. We didn’t venture back into the cafeteria that week.

  In yearbook that same Thursday afternoon, Mr. Carlson assigned me to take pictures of the football game Friday night.

  “What about the pep rally?” I asked.

  Everyone in the room turned puzzled stares toward me.

  “You know,” I said, waving invisible pom-poms. “Pep Rally? Everyone in the gym? Sis, boom, bah? Go team?”

  Kayla flipped her hair behind her head and said “It’s an away game,” as if that explained everything.

  “And?” I asked, drawing the word out.

  “We don’t have pep rallies before away games.” Her tone was that of someone patiently explaining the obvious to an irritating and rather slow child.

  “Mmm,” I said in my most sarcastic, pretentious voice. “Thank you, for I am a stranger in your land and know not your ways.”

  Mr. Carlson laughed. So did Mason. Everyone else looked at me like I’d just announced that I would be growing an extra head soon. Texans take their football way too seriously, I thought.

  “Since it is an out-of-town game,” Mr. Carlson said, “do you need me to see if you can ride on the bus with the cheerleaders or the drill team?” The thought of Natalie in her short skirt snarling at me for two hours straight sent a shudder down my back.

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll find another ride.”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go to the game by yourself?” Mason asked after we were in his truck. “I’ll be on the bus with the rest of the team and won’t be able to help you if something happens.”

  “And you think I’d be safer on the bus with the cheerleaders and drill team?”

  He leered and opened his mouth to say something, but I held my hands over my ears. “No! I don’t want to know what you’re about to say!”

  He just laughed, so I lowered my hands. “I’m going to see if Josh will take me,” I said.

  Mason nodded. “You two be careful, okay?”

  “We will.”

  I actually said that we would be careful.

  I clearly didn’t understand the whole concept of jinxing something.

  * * *

  Josh picked me up at my house late Friday afternoon. We headed out to the highway, but not, of course, without stopping by Sonic to get food and drinks first. “It’s officially now our tradition,” Josh said.

  “What is?” I asked.

  “Sonic for our dates.”

  “Is this a date?” I asked.

  “Well,” he said with a shrug and a smile, “we’ve been to Sonic. I guess it has to be.”

  I smiled back at him and contentedly sipped my limeade.

  We’d finished eating before he spoke again.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he said. His tone warned me that I wasn’t going to like it.

  “What?” I asked warily.

  “The team that we’re playing tonight?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The guys who kidnapped you for Biet are probably from their school.”

  My eyes grew wide. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “We weren’t sure until today. Mason got hold of the other team’s roster for us, and found out that a couple of guys named Eddie Cahill and Pete Ramsey have been removed from the team. And a third guy, Cory Sims, is on the team. We think those are the three we fought with.”

  “And Sims is still alive,” I said.

  Josh nodded. “He may be out for revenge tonight, so I’ll be watching your back.”

  “Why bring me at all?” I demanded. “Am I bait again?”

  “No,” he said. “At this point we’re just trying to keep Bartlef happy until we figure out what’s next.”

  I shuddered at the thought of Bartlef. “Have you seen him lately?” I asked.

  “Only at school. I’ve kind of been avoiding him, to tell the truth.”

  “The next meeting is Sunday, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Think we’ll get all this figured out by then?”

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I sure hope so.”

  We didn’t talk much for the rest of the drive.

  Once we’d gotten to the game, I spent the first quarter wandering around taking crowd shots. The teams were playing in the stadium that belonged to a small local college; the seats were filled for the high school game. I was about halfway down the aisle of bleacher steps, and had pointed my camera back up at a group of students above me, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I snapped the picture and turned around.

  It was Kayla.

  Great.

  I just stared at her.

  “You’re not going to get away with this, you know,” she said.

  “Get away with what?”

  “Ruining my life. Being such a slutbag.”

  I sighed, turned away from her, and started back up the stairs. The camera bag tugged at my shoulder; carrying an iron spike around all the time gets tiresome. But I was seriously beginning to consider using it on Kayla. She might not have a problem with iron, but I was guessing the pointy end could do some damage, anyway.

  “I told your mother, you know,” she called out. “About you and Josh and Mason.”

  I ignored her and kept moving.

  Bitch.

  The next time I saw her, she was in the stands with the drill team, whispering with Natalie. They were looking at me and pointing.

  God, my life reeked.

  I looked around for Josh and found him staring out over the back side of the stadium, away from the game. He smiled when I came up beside him. We looked down at the townspeople spread out around us.

  “How do I get down to the field?” I asked.

  “I’ll show you.” He took my hand and led me down the steps and around to the sidelines, so I could take better pictures. Then he faded back and leaned against the wall of the stadium seats. I slung my camera bag to the ground beside him.

  Some guy from Fairy made a touchdown and the stadium crowd went ballistic, screaming and yelling.

  Way too serious about their football, I thought again.

  By half-time, I was totally into the game.

  I know, I know. That’s what I get for making fun of it. Karma’s a bitch.

  Don’t get me wrong—football has nothing in it like the poetry and grace of baseball. And I still didn’t understand all the rules of the game, besides the obvious “get the ball to your end of the field and put it down” part. But there’s something to be said for guys in tight pants crashing into each other at full speed.

  Football is much more exciting at camera eye level.

  At half-time, the Fairy Hawks were up 15 to 7. I’d figured out that every touchdown was worth six points, so I wasn’t entirely sure how we’d gotten those extra three points—though I suspected it had something to do with one of our guys kicking the ball through the big Y-shaped bars at the end of the field at one point. I’d gotten a good shot of that moment, too, and I’d gotten some good pictures of the cheerleaders bouncing around on the sidelines. I was positioning myself to take shots of the halftime show when the drill team marched out past me. Natalie tossed a snarl in my direction as she pranced by, but by the time she got onto the field she had an enormous smile for her audience.

  Conscious of Mr. Carlson’s suggestion that I use both the digital and the black and white film camera, I had both of them hanging from straps around my neck. I’d been using the digital for most of the evening because I wanted to see the results immediately. Okay, so sometimes I’m instant gratification girl. So what?

  I got some good shots of the half-time act—I had to admit that the drill team and the band put on a pretty good show—and then I decided to switch cameras. Josh still stood guard over my bag, so I dropped the digital into it.

  “Having fun?” he asked, a smile showing in his eyes.

  “Mor
e than I expected to,” I admitted.

  The 35mm felt bulky in my hand, but I worked with it anyway, moving up and down the sideline with my back to the field so I could get shots of the crowd.

  At the fifty-yard line I saw Sarah, leaning down from the bleachers over the concrete barricade and waving at me. I jogged over to her and she smiled.

  “Hey!” she said. “Enjoying your first game?”

  “Actually, I am,” I said, grinning. I felt better than I’d felt since we’d moved to Texas.

  “Andrea!” Sarah called out to one of the cheerleaders who had retired from the sideline to watch the show. “Come take a picture of us?”

  Andrea smiled and came toward us, holding out her hand. I gave her the 35mm and stood on my tiptoes with my back against the barrier while Sarah leaned over precariously. I saw a security guard headed our direction—he was yelling something at Sarah about getting back behind the barrier. We all pretended we didn’t see or hear him.

  “Better hurry!” I said.

  Andrea snapped a few shots, said “There you go” with a smile, handed me the camera, and headed back toward the field. The drill team had just finished their routine and was marching back off the field.

  I started to step away from the barrier, but Sarah reached down toward me.

  “What?” I asked, pausing.

  “Give me your hand!” she yelled over the sound of the band.

  I looked at her quizzically, but reached up to take her hand.

  Just as she seized my arm, all the lights went out in the stadium. Coming as it did after the bright lights all night, the darkness seemed complete.

  Sarah clutched my wrist tightly. The band faltered to silence, one lone trumpet petering out at the end. There was an instant of silence before people started yelling, and in that silence I heard Sarah say, “I'm so sorry, Laney. They made me do it.”

  And then I felt someone else, someone much stronger than Sarah, grab me from behind. A hand covered my mouth, though I’m certain no one could have heard me over the pandemonium that had broken out in the stadium.

  Nor could anyone else hear when he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Remember me, bitch?” Then he laughed and pulled me through to the ethereal plane.

  Chapter 19

  I recognized the voice. It was Sims—the only one of the three guys who had gotten away when Josh and Mason had rescued me from Hazel Biet’s trio of thugs.

  And now he had me again.

  This was going to suck. Big time.

  We were airborne almost instantly. My stomach wrenched with the sense of déjà vu. I hate getting kidnapped and flown to evil lairs.

  Josh, I thought. Josh was watching me the whole time. He’d been leaning up against the wall. Surely he saw what had happened.

  Of course, Mason was on the football team, so he was probably still in the locker room when the lights went out. Would he recognize what was going on and come help Josh find me?

  I’d brought my iron spike with me to the game—I carried it pretty much everywhere with me these days—but it was still in my camera bag. And my camera bag? On the ground by the fifty yard line.

  We didn’t fly far; in about fifteen minutes, Sims touched down outside a darkened school campus. The building was newer than ours and uglier—a squat, brown brick building sprawling across the flat Texas landscape. There weren’t even any trees to soften the edges.

  We landed on the ground, and moved out of the ethereal plane with an almost audible pop. Sims brought his wings through with him, and I could see a thin spot in one of them, new skin forming over the hole he’d ripped in his wings getting away from Josh and Mason.

  He resituated his grasp on my upper arm, and dragged me into the building through a side door that had been left unlocked. I tried to plant my feet, but my sneakers screeched along the tile as he pulled me until I stumbled after him. Most of the lights were off, but the building had an unmistakable institutional feel.

  At the end of the hall, Sims pulled me through a door that led to a backstage area. We wound our way around prop furniture and painted backdrops. When I grabbed at a sturdy-looking couch and tried to hang on to it, Sims stopped long enough to backhand me across the face. I yelped in pain as I felt my lip split and blood trickle down my chin. He yanked my arm so hard I thought he might wrench my shoulder out of its socket. Although I didn’t entirely quit trying to resist him at that point—I still dragged my feet—I decided I needed to wait for a better moment to try to get away from him.

  Sims pulled me out onto the stage and I stumbled out behind him, blinded by the footlights shining up into my face. When he let go of my arm, I put it up to shade my eyes and looked around me. Roger Bartlef stood on the opposite side of the stage from me, along with Hazel Biet. That didn’t really surprise me.

  What did surprise me, at least a little, was that Oma Raina sat on a chair between them, leaning forward with her hands crossed over her cane.

  On the same side of the stage with me was another small group of adults, this one comprised of two men and one woman, all seated. None of them were as old as either Bartlef or Oma Raina. In fact, all of them looked about Biet’s age—thirties or forties.

  I had about ten seconds to take all this in before Sims was behind me, dragging me out to center stage. At that point, I looked out into the auditorium and realized that we had an audience. The house was by no means packed, but there were probably a couple hundred people there of all ages.

  Make that People. With a capital P. In the haze created by the stage-lights, I could see the echo of wings everywhere, their faint shadows criss-crossing with one another.

  They were all staring at me.

  I had a horrible suspicion that I was going to be the main show that evening.

  That suspicion was confirmed when Bartlef said, “Ah, my dear. There you are.” What is it about creepy old guys that makes them want to call teenage girls “my dear”? It’s really pretty gross. So I didn’t say anything back.

  “Please,” he continued, “come here.” He held out his hand toward me and I cringed away, but Sims was behind me and gave me a push, propelling me toward Bartlef.

  He took my hand. “No need to be afraid,” he said in what I guess he thought was a soothing tone.

  Right. Why on earth would I be scared? I’d just been kidnapped off a football field, and flown to an auditorium full of demons. Nothing scary there.

  “What do you want with me?” I asked. I tried to sound angry and defiant, but I’m afraid it came out as more of a terrified squeak.

  He didn’t even bother to answer me.

  “As you can see,” he said, taking me by the shoulders and turning me to face the other group of demons, “she is unharmed.” His hands were chilly on my shoulders and he gripped me tightly. I wondered if my split lip counted with this crowd.

  “How do we know you’re right?” one of the two men asked. He wore a dark gray suit and tie, and had just a touch of silver at his temples—he looked respectable, kind of like he could work in a bank or something. I might have even been inclined to trust him, except for the fact that I could see enormous shadow-wings stretching out behind him. They were almost exactly the same color as his suit. “Why should we just take your word that she’s the Yatah?” he continued.

  I could hear the smile in Bartlef’s voice. “You’re welcome to check for yourself,” he said. “But we have Raina Overhill’s word on it.”

  “Ah.” The gray man nodded, apparently satisfied that Oma Raina knew what she was talking about.

  I looked around desperately, searching for any means of escape.

  I didn’t see any.

  “I’d like to examine her,” the woman in the Gray Man’s group said.

  Bartlef nodded, and she moved to us. Bartlef shifted his grasp to my upper arm and held me out for inspection. She walked in a circle around me, making “hmm” noises and nodding the whole time.

  Then she took a step back and regarded Bartlef solemnly.
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  “And even if she is the Yatah,” she said, “why should your enclave have her?”

  “She came to us,” Oma Raina’s croaking voice answered. “She came to us; she belongs to us.”

  The woman stepped up closer to me and put her hand on my stomach in almost the exact same spot that Biet had. Again, I felt cold seeping through my skin and into my bones.

  “She does not yet carry the Dumaya,” she announced. “Therefore, she is still anyone’s for the taking. I believe our young warriors should now have a chance with her.”

  I could feel my eyes get huge. I wasn’t pregnant, so she was going to hand me over to her own boys? I couldn’t help but glance over at Sims. His smile was cold as he dropped one eyelid in a slow, deliberate wink. I shuddered and looked away.

  “When we are done with her here tonight, you may have her.” Bartlef projected his voice loudly enough for the entire audience to hear. “Assuming,” he said in a much quieter voice, “that she is still alive.”

  The audience watched the exchange silently. I could feel the tension building in the room. Again I shielded my eyes from the lights and looked out into the crowd. As my eyes adjusted, I saw some faces I recognized from school, a few others from selling ads with Mason. Apparently much of the demon population of Fairy had made it to the show.

  Except for Josh and Mason.

  My knees went weak as I realized that there was little chance I’d be saved from this. Whatever “this” was. Only Bartlef’s grip on my arm kept me from sinking to the floor. He hauled me back to my feet. I saw his jaw tighten. Behind him, Biet snarled.

  “Absolutely not,” she said to Bartlef, stepping up next to him. “We agreed to allow them to see her, not to have her.”

  The other woman smiled pleasantly, ignoring Biet’s outburst. “So, Roger,” she said to Bartlef, “you agree to release the girl into our custody immediately following the ceremony?”

  Bartlef nodded. “I do.”

  “Regardless of the outcome?”

  Bartlef smiled in a particularly nasty way. “Absolutely.”

  Somehow I didn’t think he planned to leave me alive after whatever ceremony he was planning.

  The woman nodded. “Let’s begin, then.” She bared her teeth in a much less pleasant smile at Bartlef.