The Book of Lost Souls

by Michelle Muto

  Ivy scratched under his chin. “Thanks, buddy.”

  Devlin sneezed, hopefully meaning, you’re welcome. He curled back up on the edge of the bed, seemingly at ease with her second choice in reading material. He watched her for a little bit, but soon drifted to sleep with a few short snuffling sounds.

  Ivy flipped through the first few pages of the gardening book, not knowing exactly what to look for. It wasn’t until chapter three that she stopped flipping through pages and started reading. The chapter’s title was enough to generate interest. It read: Chapter Three: Ivy. A faded, penciled-in star appeared next to this. According to the book, ivy was one of the most revered plants in witchcraft. Supposedly, it offered good luck, health, and could ward off despair and disaster. Greek and Roman gods often wore wreaths of holly and ivy.

  Ivy traced her fingernail across the words that had been underlined: Happiness, health, good luck. She would have underlined another bit of text that exemplified her personality—that although ivy was cultivated and grown in several places in the world and sometimes used to cover buildings in disrepair, it was a plant that thrived in nature. Perseverance. Determination. Six spells were included in this chapter, using the plant for anything from hangovers and infertility to sunburn and depression. She read the last sentence in the chapter several times: The powers of ivy are strongest during the Ivy Moon, which coincides at harvest’s end. Harvest’s end fell on Halloween this year, six days away.

  She continued to browse through A Botany of Spells, pausing again on Chapter eight: Wolfsbane. Again, a penciled-in star appeared next to the chapter’s title. Fully engaged now, she read on. Aside from the fact the plant was highly poisonous, it also had the qualities of strength, intelligence, and peace. A true spell caster’s plant, the chapter concluded.

  Bane. Wolfsbane.

  Without browsing through the rest of the book, she searched the index for Nightshade. Finding it, she turned to chapter twenty and stared. There was another star here. She paged forward, but none of the other plants had a star penciled next to them. She flipped back to Nightshade. Beauty was the one word that was repeatedly used with the plant, and she read a few spells that used Nightshade. One was thought to encourage one’s artistic abilities. Another was to enhance sight temporarily. Other spells revolved around Nightshade’s powers to sever life.

  Nightshade. Sever life?

  Shayde?

  That was hardly a trait she’d put with her best friend. She paged through the book again. Only three of them had stars next to their chapter headings. Three. Ivy, Wolfsbane, and Nightshade. Ivy, Bane, and Shayde. Coincidence?

  No. Something said it wasn’t. But why would a gardening book with her name and the names of her friends be included with books on black magic?

  Either this had something to do with her father, or someone had tried to make it look that way. Which meant, either he’d buried the books, or the person who dug them up was setting her up. Maybe both were true. Her thoughts went back to Nick’s father.

  “What are you reading, sweetie?”

  Ivy jumped, knocking the book from her lap. She’d been so preoccupied that she hadn’t heard her mother enter the room.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just a book on plants.” Her mother picked it up before Ivy could snatch it from atop the covers.

  Her mother’s face went white, her hands trembled, and tears filled her eyes.

  “Mom,” Ivy said. “What’s the matter? It’s just a book.” Even without her mother’s reaction to it Ivy knew that A Botany of Spells was anything other than just a book.

  Tears spilled down her mother’s cheeks and she wiped at them furiously. “Where?” she asked, her voice nearly choking. “Where did you find this, Ivy?”

  “It’s not a bad book, Mom! It’s just about some plants. What’s wrong?”

  “WHERE did you find this?” Her mother closed the book and held it to her chest.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me.”

  Ivy’s words must have made her mother come around and she took a deep, controlled breath. “Your father gave it to me the summer I learned I was pregnant with you. I wanted to take up gardening, and he surprised me with this book. I haven’t seen this book...” she paused. “I haven’t seen it since your father left. Where on earth did you find it?”

  CHAPTER 14

  “One of the books was your mother’s?” Shayde blurted out. “You’re kidding.”

  “Shhh!” Ivy warned. She hurried to her locker and wriggled her fingers. The dial turned right and left and the locker popped open.

  “Sorry,” Shayde whispered. “Does she know you found it buried in the cemetery?”

  “I said that I found it stuffed behind some other books on a shelf in the study. She didn’t look at me like I was lying,” Ivy shrugged. “But she did seem surprised to see it. Said she hadn’t seen it since he left.”

  “He?” Shayde’s eyes widened. “Oh, him! Your dad,” she finished softly.

  Ivy exchanged books and closed the locker. “I really think he buried the books. What I can’t figure out is why he did that and just left, unless he’d planned to come back for them. Or, unless he was hiding them from someone. And, why didn’t he tell Mom?”

  On the rare occasions when the topic of her father came up, there was a small twinge inside her that Ivy always found confusing. It was anger, surely. And pain too, no matter how much she denied it. And now, Ivy felt awkward discussing with Shayde how easily she’d lied last night. But there was no way she could have asked her mother how her gardening book had ended up buried with Mr. Laughton.

  “You didn’t ask about the other books then, did you?” Shayde inquired.

  Ivy shook her head. “No.”

  “Ivy,” Shayde said, concern evident in her voice. “Your mom doesn’t have the other book, you know that. She’d never be involved with black magic. If your dad really did bury those books, he didn’t do it to prevent your mother from using them.”

  Ivy knew this for fact. If she’d learned anything from last night, it was that the books should never stay in anyone’s possession for any length of time. It changed people. Nick had alluded to that much over pizza. Could it be that Nick was on the level about making sure the books were put away someplace safe?

  “Yeah, I know. But, here’s what scares me the most—both of those books were in our house—at the same time.” Ivy took a deep breath. “That’s not all. I found something else in the gardening book that I need to talk to you and Bane about.”

  Shayde started to say something more, but then grew quiet when Nick walked up.

  “Hi,” he said, eyeing them. “Am I interrupting?”

  “Nope,” Shayde said, giving Ivy a quick smile. “We’ll talk later. I’m off to history class. See you at lunch, Ivy. Bye, Nick.” Shayde hurried away before Ivy could think of something to say to keep her around.

  She didn’t feel like Nick’s company at the moment. He’d ask questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “Something wrong?” Nick asked as he walked alongside her. They both had English during third period with Mrs. Wilkes.

  “Nothing, I’m fine.” She walked faster.

  Nick stayed right with her. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said. “Want to tell me about nothing, then?”

  “No. I just didn’t sleep well.” She strode into the classroom, choosing a seat near the window.

  “It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? The book. The whole past resurfacing just when you thought you were putting it behind you.”

  She nodded. His words were soothing, comforting, and Ivy replayed the way Nick made her feel when he had held her tightly against him. Her heart skittered a few beats. Why did he make her feel this way all the time? It was downright scary. Scary, because she couldn’t control her thoughts or her reactions.

  Nick took a seat next to her. “How about another date? You know, just to take your mind off the nothing that’s bothering you.”

  She stared straight ahead, trying to
seem eager for class to start.

  He smirked and looked around the classroom in exaggerated fashion. Ivy followed his gaze, wondering what he found so interesting. There wasn’t much to take in. Northwick High had been built in the fifties when classrooms weren’t very large.

  “I know you’re really smart, Ivy. Right at home with books and exams and classrooms like this. But, I was thinking of a date that doesn’t revolve around sentence structure. I wasn’t asking for a preposition. A date is more like a proposition.”

  She forced a sarcastic smile, but looking at him, a real one worked its way onto her face. “Just so you know, it’s because of our deal, right? It’s not a real date. I suppose you want me to bring a few books anyway?”

  “Nope. Unless there’s something in one of them that’ll help locate Spike. Maybe we should go hunt for him.”

  “And you call that a date?” Ivy said, astounded.

  He shrugged. “You said it wasn’t a real date. Look, I know it’s hard for you to think about anything other than a study date, so I’ll go slow. How about thinking of Spike as a misplaced modifier we need to find.”

  She stared for a long moment, then blinked. Where did he get his material? Tortured stand-up comics from hell?

  “Come on. That was funny. Spike. Modifier. Modified? Tell me you got that? Well?”

  “Yeah—”

  “Excellent. It’s a date, then. Sort of. See you after dinner, say six-thirty?”

  “That was outright trickery,” Ivy said, scowling.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’m a demon, remember?” He winked and quickly feigned interest in his homework, cracking open his English book and turning away from her.

  Before she could protest, Mrs. Wilkes entered the room with an armload of books. She was a round witch with a round face and a button nose, and her grey hair was pulled into a severe round bun. Mrs. Wilkes set her books on her desk and gave Nick and Ivy a warm smile which made little cherry-colored orbs of her cheeks. The only thing that wasn’t circular on Mrs. Wilkes were the deeply etched laugh lines behind her half-moon bifocals.

  She waved a stubby finger at Ivy. “You resemble your mother more every day, Ivy dear. I always did like Claire. Kindest, most down-to-earth witch I’ve ever met. Honest and good as they come. How’s the library treating her these days?”

  Mrs. Wilkes’s words about her mother’s near-angelic nature stunned Ivy. She wished that her resemblance to her mother was more than just physical. Hadn’t her mother mentioned that she was more and more like her father? With every passing year she wondered if her sharp-tongued wit and impatience was a trait she had inherited from him. Hard to say since he’d been gone for so long. She felt another sudden stab of guilt for lying about where she’d found the book.

  Nick nudged her for a response.

  “Everything’s fine, Mrs. Wilkes,” Ivy managed. “Thanks for asking. Just fine.”

  “Oh, how lovely, dear.” Mrs. Wilkes turned back to her desk as the classroom started to fill up with students.

  Nick shot Ivy a suspicious glance, which clearly stated he didn’t think things were fine at all. Great. That meant tonight he’d be sure to ask even more questions she preferred to avoid. Maybe she could call him later and tell him she felt sick and had to cancel.

  They worked their way through subjunctive verbs and subordinate clauses the first half of class. Ivy couldn’t have been more bored. She’d already studied this material over summer break.

  “Paul,” Mrs. Wilkes said, striding to the blackboard. She motioned to one of the sentences she’d written earlier. “Where’s the subordinate clause in this sentence?”

  Paul, a boy with mousy hair and a baby face, fidgeted as he read, Julie walked home after her car broke down. He scratched the back of his neck. “Julie walked home?”

  “Oh, dear!” Mrs. Wilkes said, disappointed. “You’ve been neglecting your grammar. Nick? Can you help Paul?”

  “After her car broke down,” Nick said nonchalantly. He gave Ivy a smug smile.

  Bored with adverb clauses, Ivy turned to stare out the window watching the clouds cross a clear, chilly sky. The Maples had all lost their leaves and offered knotted, arthritic limbs toward the sky as though pleading for warmth. Only the Pin Oaks kept their leaves, wearing them like a tattered winter coat. She started to zone, thinking about the incantations in A Botany of Spells and how her mother’s book had ended up buried alongside Mr. Laughton.

  “And now, just for fun, let’s work on metaphors and similes,” Mrs. Wilkes said gleefully. “Let me find my worksheets.” She fumbled through her papers. “Oh, dear! I must have left them at home. We’ll just improvise. Remember, similes use the verbs like and as to draw a comparison between two objects. Metaphors use is and are to show that an object is what it resembles. Paul, let’s try again. Give us an example of a simile.”

  “Hey, it’s the lizard guy!” Paul commented loudly, and pointed out the window.

  “Oh dear!” Mrs. Wilkes exclaimed. “That would imply he’s really a lizard. That’s a better example of a metaphor and not a very good one, I’m afraid.”

  Most of the class had left their seats, scrambling to the window to get a better look. On the two foot stone wall around a bunch of trees, was Spike. He was sprawled on his back, arms stretched outward, sunning himself in true lizard fashion.

  Jogging along the path that wove through the lawn was the girl’s gym class. Tara and one of her cheerleading buddies were running ahead of the others and fast approaching Spike. Not only was the distance between the window and Spike farther than Ivy had ever attempted to cast a spell, she might miss and turn one of the girls into a lizard instead of Spike. On second thought, the idea didn’t seem so bad. Her hand twitched at her side.

  Suddenly aware that Mrs. Wilkes was standing directly behind her, all contemplation of having Tara join the ranks of sun-seeking, scaly-skinned bug eaters ended.

  “Oh, dear!” Mrs. Wilkes said, squinting. “That really is him. Stand aside.”

  Positioning herself directly in front of the window, Mrs. Wilkes recited a spell Ivy from Spectacular Spells Explained, one clearly meant to return Spike to normal. Mrs. Wilkes might have seemed fairly harmless and somewhat feeble at times, but everyone knew she was a witch to be reckoned with. Once, she levitated an old oak that had fallen across the road outside the school entrance with only a whispered incantation.

  Spike jumped from his spot like he’d been struck by lightning. He looked around cautiously, still in human form. Mrs. Wilkes tried again, this time managing to catch Spike’s shoes on fire for a brief second. A small cloud of dark grey smoke billowed from his toes. He screamed and flung his shoes off. Tara and half the cheerleading squad stood beside him, trying to calm him down.

  Great. Tara, the one person who couldn’t manage to make a pencil hover without wobbling would get credit for catching Spike. Like she needed more popularity. Ivy could just hear the talk around school now—how Tara had managed to snag Ivy’s runaway date.

  “Spike’s not acting entirely lizard-like,” Nick said as though she hadn’t noticed this tidbit of information herself. “I mean, a lizard would just run off, not think to remove his shoes. And he’s talking to Tara without your help.”

  “It’s the Intelligence spell,” Ivy whispered back. “One of the side effects is that it accelerates over time. He’s probably starting to think more like a person than a lizard, especially since he’s in human form.”

  Spike dusted himself off and appeared to be easily conversing with Tara and another girl. They each took one of Spike’s arms and led him away. As long as the girls were touching him, even Mrs. Wilkes didn’t dare cast another spell. And what would it have mattered, anyway? Something didn’t seem right. How could one of her spells be stronger than Mrs. Wilkes’s?

  Nick shook his head. “That’s not good. The longer this goes on, the more likely it is he won’t want to be a lizard again. Didn’t you read the warning on that spell? Isn’t there a bunch of oth
er side effects?”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking about all that at the time. But, Spike doesn’t exactly give me the impression that he’s depressed right now. On the bright side, he’s probably already smarter than Tara.”

  A murmur rippled through the classroom, and Ivy heard the shuffling of feet as people backed away from the window, leaving just Mrs. Wilkes, Nick, and her standing there.

  “Dark magic,” someone murmured. “Anyone who’d want to keep him in human form is definitely practicing dark magic.”

  Ivy heard her classmates whispered agreement. Who were they talking about? Mrs. Wilkes? Couldn’t they see she had tried to turn Spike back into a human? Ivy turned to face them, to tell them that Mrs. Wilkes would never do dark magic and found that everyone, even Nick and Mrs. Wilkes were staring at her.

  They weren’t talking about Mrs. Wilkes. To Ivy’s horror, they were talking about her. They thought she had somehow countered Mrs. Wilkes’ spell to keep Spike a human.

  Several students, winced as though waiting for Ivy to turn them into something hideous. Others stared at her with what Ivy interpreted as serious respect.

  “Too cool. She’s the most powerful witch in school!” one classmate said to another, who nodded eagerly.

  “Wish I was a witch,” sighed one of the Goths who frequently hung out with the other Kindred-wannabes.

  “Like father like daughter is what my mom would say. I heard her father was a dark wizard,” Paul said quietly. “The darkest there is.”

  The whole room buzzed with Paul’s comment and Ivy never felt worse. She was not like him. Couldn’t be. He’d been gone so long that he no longer had an influence on her. Fear crept into her. Had she inherited some special powers?