Robert gave Sam a pointed look, which Sam ignored.
“So, do you ever wish for the old sun, the old world to come back,” Sam asked, sitting across from his father, “to release you from the bondage of your control?”
“There are certain things I wish for, but going back is not one of them. Under the old sun, the humans were disdained, repressed. Under the old sun your mother and I never could have met and married. Under the old sun there could never have been a you.” He paused. “Going back is not worth any amount of power to me. Though there is no denying that this world could be improved upon too.”
“But what if there was a way to fix the old world?” Sam asked.
“I believe that the creatures who most wish to go back are not those with a good deal of change in mind. Looking back is rarely the type of thing that propels a group of people forward.”
“But,” Sam said, “you often hold back.”
“Holding back is not going back,” his father said. “You would do well to learn the difference.”
“Holding back may not be the same, but if you’re not careful the end result will be the same,” Sam retorted. “If they get Ella, which you say they practically have—if they use her, then the suns will turn back. And if what you say is true, then not only will she be doomed, but I will as well.”
Sam set the bracelet on the table between them, turning it, trying to see how it could best be used.
His father set his face, then held out his hand for the bracelet. Sam hesitated. His father waited, hand outstretched, palm open. “If you don’t want me to hold back, then give me the bracelet.”
Sam looked into his father’s eyes—the same deep brown as his own, and set the bracelet in his father’s hand. His father stood, twisting the metal of the bracelet, crushing it in his hands.
Sam gasped, jumping forward, grabbing his father’s wrist. “You’re destroying it!” he screamed.
“No,” his father said, hands shaking, fingers white, blue veins bulging. “I’m releasing it.” He dropped the mangled silver bracelet, letting it fall to the floor.
Sam ran for the silver bracelet.
“Leave it,” his father said, opening his fist to reveal the unharmed copper square.
Sam walked to his father, who leaned against the thin walls of the trailer. He could not even raise his weakened arm to hand the square to Sam.
“Attaching it to a thick silver band was smart,” his father said. “It makes accessing it so much harder.”
Sam took the ornate piece of copper. “Now tell me how this is going to help. After all, it’s not a magical stone.”
“That,” his father said, nodding at the copper square, “is a different type of power source. And one Napper tried to protect just as much as the stone.”
“So what does it contain?” Sam asked.
His father almost smiled. “Information,” he said. “And not a little.”
Sam turned it around in his hand, trying to put the puzzle together in his mind. “But it’s only the outer half.”
“Yes,” his father replied, standing up a little straighter. “Napper created it in two pieces so they could be taken apart and the information safeguarded.” He pressed his forehead, still looking pale. “Those who fled The Ranch stole it too, but during the crash, one of the pieces went missing. By the time it was found, everyone from the group had travelled to different places.”
His father reached out and touched the square. “They tried, but could never find a safe way to meet up and put the pieces together.”
Sam fingered the perfectly smooth edges, finding an almost imperceptible ridge where a smaller piece could be inserted.
“So I still need the other piece,” Sam said.
“Yes, son,” Robert replied, kicking the mangled silver bracelet toward the wall. “And the other piece needs you.”
Sam didn’t know what else to do, but go at it directly. He jogged to Ella’s house when he knew Vivi would still be at work.
“Sam,” Ella said, opening the door for him.
“Hey,” he replied, almost certain that when Ella let him in, she had looked both ways down her street to be sure no one had seen.
“I’m sorry,” Ella began, “I can’t go running today. I’ve got a ton of stuff—”
Sam interrupted her. “I don’t want to go running,” he said quickly, feeling like Vivi would pop in any minute. “Look, this is going to sound really weird, but I need your ring.”
Ella narrowed her eyes, just a bit. “What ring?” she asked slowly.
“Your mother’s ring—the one you wear. I won’t need it forever, but it fits into this thing—this part of a bracelet that Mr….that someone gave me, and I need part of your ring to…”
“What?” Ella said, a little loudly. “You need part of my ring?”
“Well, yes,” Sam said, stumbling over his words. How could he explain that he needed a piece to fit into another piece so that the parts would be complete, but he still wasn’t sure what to do with it after that? It didn’t help that when he looked down at Ella, she seemed mad. “I need it to fit into…”
“Sam,” Ella snapped. “Stop it.”
“But Ella,” he said.
“Look, Sam, I just need you to, just to listen,” Ella said, sounding less mad and a little more desperate.
“No,” he said. “I need you to listen. I know it sounds weird…”
“No,” Ella shouted. “It sounds crazy.”
Sam stepped back like she’d hit him.
She bit her lip, softening. “Look, Sam, I’ve never said you were crazy. I’ve been your friend, even when others weren’t. I’ve even tried to believe you when you said bizarre, whacked out things. But to come and ask for my mother’s jewelry, to hint that you’ll be taking it apart for who knows what—it’s just a little too much.”
Sam’s face fell and Ella paused.
“Look,” she said. “I know you miss Sarah. I miss her too, but you’ve got to pull yourself together. Something went wrong with her. It happens. Hopefully she’ll get the help she needs.”
“You stop it,” Sam said, his own voice rising. He just couldn’t listen anymore—the mind-numbing way Ella talked like there were simple answers to all life’s questions when he knew she knew there weren’t. It was like her heart had fallen out when she put on her brand-name clothes.
“Sam,” Ella said. “Please. Just listen.”
He put his hands over his ears, turned his face away—like a child.
Ella’s eyes welled up with tears. Gently, she put her hands up and took Sam’s hands off his ears. “Look, Sam, I know you don’t want to hear this—any of this. But maybe you should try to get some help too. They have doctors, medicines.”
Sam pulled his hands away from Ella.
“I’m sorry,” Ella said. “I’m only saying this because I care about you. I’m your friend.”
Sam wanted to turn away again, but he looked straight into Ella’s face. “No,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You’re not my friend. You’re my cousin.”
And then he ran—the long, lanky legs hitting the pavement in strides much faster than Ella could have matched.
Ella shook her head, watching him. She thought about trying to catch up to him, but she’d never be able to. And even if she did, what could she do? Ella sat down right on her porch and held her head in her hands.
“Oh man,” she said, looking down the road where he’d run. “Sam needs help.”
Slowly she stood, stretching out her legs. On top of everything else, he’d somehow convinced himself that they were cousins.
Feeling like she had an ugly hangover, Ella walked up the steps to her room. She sat down on her bed, surrounded by the blue walls of her room. She was glad she’d painted them. When they’d been just white, it had felt like an asylum.
Ella bit her lip. She hadn’t gone to visit Sarah—hadn’t even checked on the visiting hours. Ella sighed and held up her phone, googling the psychiatric insti
tution. She had till six o’clock today. It was nearly five now. And she had no car, no bike.
Ella put on her running leggings, then laced up her shoes. Vivi had bought her a Dri-fit jacket—light but warm. She zipped it up tight, grabbed her earbuds and her phone, and stepped out the door.
Chapter 54
Sarah was sleeping when Ella stepped into her room—white bed, white room, creepy. It smelled that white smell too—sterile alcohol clean. Ella would take the burrito armpit smell of her old apartments any day.
Sarah was just supposed to be in here for observation, so Ella had expected it to be a little more like a dorm room—relaxed with maybe some color and bad art. Instead it looked like a hospital room: moveable bed, moveable table, bare walls, linoleum floor. The only life was from the flowers and cards that sat on a table next to her hospital bed. Sarah’s mother had put up a few photographs of their family.
Ella picked one up. Sarah’s mother looked a lot like Sarah—broad smile, green eyes, red hair. Her father was darker and taller, balding a bit, but handsome. Ella set the picture down, wondering how long she should hang out if Sarah was just sleeping when suddenly Sarah opened her eyes and rolled over.
“Oh, hey,” Sarah said, struggling to sit up. She hoisted herself onto one elbow and looked at Ella through foggy eyes rimmed at the edges with red. “I feel like I’ve been sleeping for days.”
Ella thought that that was pretty much how she looked too. Sarah wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, but it was some sort of jump suit that Ella could tell was issued to her.
“So is the nightmare over yet?” Sarah asked, cracking a crooked smile, and slurring the last part of her sentence.
“Umm,” Ella said, not sure if she should wise crack back at her friend, or make some overly cheerful statement about how it wasn’t so bad.
“Nope. Nightmare’s still going,” Sarah said, dropping back onto her pillow, as though staying up on her arm had been too exhausting.
“So,” Ella asked, “how is everything?”
“Well,” Sarah said, slurring again. “I’m officially crazy. I hear howling and see things that aren’t there. The nurses keep medicating me so I won’t wake up screaming when I sleep.”
That explained the slurring and sleepiness, Ella thought. But it didn’t explain how her non-crazy friend had suddenly gone crazy. It didn’t explain that at all.
“What do you see?” Ella asked, unable to resist.
“Wolves actually,” Sarah said. “I’ll roll over at night and see one—think I see one—looking at me through the window over there. Even if I go to sleep with the blinds closed, they’ll get opened and there will be the wolf face.” She shuddered. “Just staring. They’re not pretty wolves either, not the National Geographic kind with blue eyes and white fur. Instead, they’re brown and mottled gray, deep set eyes like empty stones, wolves like the ones Napper got. What are they called?”
“Gevudan,” Ella said, without pausing.
“Yeah, that,” Sarah said. “Hairy and scruffy and mean. That’s what I see.”
“But you’ve never seen them before this?” Ella hesitated. “Before here?”
“No,” Sarah said, pausing as though she was trying to think it through and struggling. “Never before. Not till I saw one at my door—thought I saw one at my door.”
Ella felt her eyebrows come together like they did when she wanted to cry. Sarah had never been perfect—she’d always been offbeat, sarcastic, a little moody. But she’d never been dull or slow.
Seeing all the sharp vividness sapped from her friend was all wrong. Sarah had hallucinated a wolf at her door. Just like Sam had hallucinated an old woman in that house. Just like—Ella paused—just like she had thought she’d heard a dog talking to her.
Ella sat by Sarah’s bed. Sarah had dozed off again, her mouth open like an old woman.
Visiting hours were almost over. Ella stood to slip out of the room, then bent down to touch Sarah on her forehead in good-bye. It seemed strange that three stone sober kids would come to this town, meet, and start imagining things. Really, when she thought about it, that seemed like the craziest thing of all.
Ella jogged back, her feet pounding out the rhythm her head couldn’t let go.
Lovely Luna Lunatic,
Longed a lolly to take a lick,
Instead she found a licorice stick.
Lonely Luna Lunatic.
Luna. Lolly. Lunatic. Lonely. Licorice licorice licorice. Luna.
When Ella got home, she tore into the jewelry box, searching for the piece of paper. On its back was the other rhyme, a tongue twister her mother had made up. Children’s games. Children’s words. Stories, riddles. Ella stopped on the last thought. Riddles.
When once a witch went walking
Woods and animals talking
When once a witch went walking
Woods and wolf stalking
When once a witch went walking
Went a walking witch which way
Which walking witch went wandering
Which walking witch went wondering
Which way the walking witch must wander
When the witch must ever wonder
Which way walked the witch?
Ella held the paper in her hand for a long time. Sam had called the old woman Zinnie. In her mother’s stories, there was a witch who lived in a hut in the woods—a protector, a keeper of secrets and stories. With the witch, those who were good found safety. Werewolf or human. To her the evil could not go.
Ella swayed slightly. Her mother had owned a stone—round and glistening. And it was gone. Her mother had written of a witch. And she was gone.
Were they stories?
Ella spun her mother’s ring around her finger, turning the small square into her palm and pressing it against her skin.
When Sarah opened her eyes again, Ella was gone. How long had she been sleeping? It felt like a thousand years. Down the hall, she heard the tidy clip of a man’s dress shoes, then the click of the lock on her door.
“Good evening, dear,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
“Mr. Napper,” Sarah said.
He was dressed in a suit and tie, and Sarah felt like he’d been here before, though she couldn’t remember if that was true or just strange dreaming. Napper sat down beside her and patted her hand.
“They tell me it’s been a tricky recovery for you,” he said. “So I wanted to stop by.”
He leaned forward to look into her eyes—his own gray eyes so much like the wolves that she pulled back.
“I’m afraid you’ve gotten caught at the center of a spinning circle,” he said. “It’s difficult to step away without falling.”
Sarah shook her head, unsure of what he was talking about. She felt so tired.
“So many connections,” Napper said with his steady stare. “Things that I need—your friend, the old house, maybe even that boy. It just seemed safest to keep you here.”
The smell. Sarah sniffed the air. She could smell a wolf—the same smell as when she’d opened the door, as when the wolf had been there.
But there were no wolves, then or now. Just one old man staring down into her eyes. And why was he here again? Or maybe it was just a dream—a psychedelic dream where she was at the center of a Tilt-a-Whirl that swooped and orbited without stopping.
She closed her eyes, her head spinning, dizzy, as her thoughts sank to the center, her feet slipping; and she fell.
Chapter 55
Ella stood by the licorice post in the dark, wondering if Sam was crazy. Or she was. Maybe both.
She’d never gone in without Sam. Slowly, she pushed the licorice to the side and crawled in. She ran to the cottage, afraid of the wolves, and banged through the back door just like Sarah had two months ago.
But there wasn’t a dusty shack. There was warm light, the smell of chocolate, and a very old woman sitting in a chair.
“So you’ve figured it out, Christazdoter.”
“Excuse me?”
Ella squeaked.
“You’ve figured it out.”
The woman was incredibly old—thin paper glued to bone.
“No,” Ella said, still out of breath. “I haven’t figured anything out at all.”
“But of course you have,” the old woman said. “Look at you standing here with me—that’s something.”
Ella shook her head. “You do seem to be real,” she said, not quite sure that she believed it.
“And,” the woman said, pouring a cup of tea and setting a chipped saucer underneath it.
“And if you’re real, then Sam is not crazy,” Ella said. “Or not as crazy anyway.”
The woman chuckled and took a bite of a brown cookie with slivered nuts on top.
“Not at all crazy, I’m afraid,” she said with her mouth slightly full. “Terrible dull stuff, sanity.”
“I’m not sure I would know,” Ella murmured.
“Have a cookie, dear.”
“No thank you,” Ella said.
Zinnie set two cookies on Ella’s plate anyway.
“Did you know my mother?” Ella asked.
“I knew of her,” Zinnie said. “And she of me. Eventually we might have crossed paths if things had not ended the way they did.”
Ella nodded, not sure what else to say, and then blurted, “You made Sam think he was crazy. You made me think Sam was crazy.”
“I did not make anyone think anything.”
“But you left.”
“I was taken. My strength is no longer quite what it was in your mother’s stories.”
“But you always find your way home.”
“Yes, as long as there is a home to come to, I will find my way to it.”
“How?” Ella asked.
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