What Gifts She Carried

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  Everything was upside-down since I lay with my head over the side of my bed. I’d been searching in The Sorceress’s Trinity for some way to kill the unkillable, but I couldn’t stop the image of Darby’s drawing in the graveyard from scratching at my eyeballs.

  She swore she didn’t dig it out of the trash like she did that book. Instinct told me she was telling the truth, but if she didn’t, how did it wind up there? On the other hand, she’d also said she would get rid of the dog in the attic. When I asked her about it, she got all quiet.

  So I didn’t know what to think, but however it had happened, Darby’s blood had been given as a gift to the dead. Her drawing with her blood on it was at the graveyard, after all. Dead Sorceressi wouldn’t screw around with that fact, and they sure as hell wouldn’t play games and pretend to choose her as a Two or Three. She could really be chosen, if there were Sorceressi around to do the choosing, especially now that there were two empty Trinity graves. I couldn’t take any chances, which was why I had to kill Tree Ica.

  “I have homework,” I said, flipping myself over to give my arms a break from holding the ninety pound book above my head. “Besides, I’m grounded, remember?”

  “I’ll unground you until the Monroes say the party’s over,” Dad said. “And then you’ll be grounded again.”

  “I don’t do parties.”

  Half of Darby joined Dad in the doorway. “Since when?”

  “Since now.” Actually since the graveyard party, if you could even call it a party. “I’m busy.”

  “But Callum will be there,” Dad said, rubbing his stomach. His voice dripped with possibility.

  I glanced at the ceiling and shook my head. When had Callum recruited Dad as president of his fan club?

  Darby mirrored Dad by putting her hand on her stomach. “And Jo. You know who Jo is, right?”

  “Yeah, I know who my best friend is,” I said and snapped my book closed with a sigh. “You can go eat them without me.”

  Darby snorted on a laugh, a full-fledged piggy one that made her giggle even more. “Eat them? Why would we want to do that?”

  The ring of her laughter somehow forced out one of my own. How could something so light and happy come out of someone who’d done something as dark as raising the dead?

  “Because,” I gasped, “every time Dad mentions Callum, he rubs his stomach like he’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.”

  “I do?” Dad glanced down his front and found his hand on his belly. His surprised chuckle formed the bass to Darby’s squeals. Laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes, erasing all signs of his usual frown.

  Either my family hadn’t said no to drugs or they’d finally joined me in Lunatic Land. Still, it filled me with hope to hear them laugh, even if they were medicated or crazy. I was almost convinced they’d forgotten how. We should celebrate with a straight-jacket fitting party or something.

  “Darby hugged the wall for dear life, probably tired from all that snorting. “So are you going?”

  I fingered the book’s spine with another sigh. How could I say no to them? I could just lug the book with me and find a quiet corner at the party while I made sure they didn’t eat anyone who didn’t deserve it. And to keep an eye on Darby.

  For someone who had sworn off parties for an eternity, all it took for me to be talked into going was the threat of cannibalism and a laugh with the family. Maybe those were the very things that would start World War III, but for now, it was exactly what I needed.

  “All right. I’ll go,” I said.

  Darby popped off the wall with so much force, mohawks and lip rings on the nearby posters took on a life of their own in the wavering breeze. She charged down the hallway while chattering a hundred words a second. Dad lifted his eyebrows at me with a smile, but I couldn’t help him decipher any of it.

  I followed Dad to the front door with my book and backpack in tow, but Darby skipped ahead to the back door.

  “Can we drive there?” she asked.

  “It’s just down the street. We can walk,” Dad said and opened the front door while Darby slipped out the back.

  I ticked my gaze between them before I followed Darby into the garage. She didn’t even glance at the attic as the door rumbled open and she bounced past. I did, though, because the stink of half-dead dog had multiplied. Dad had noticed it, too, but it was the weekend, and Herman couldn’t come out to set up more “squirrel” traps. So Dad had been steadily moving boxes and junk out to get rid of the smell, and eventually he would find the source if Darby didn’t snap to it.

  Dad stood on the edge of the driveway, shaking his head. “I don’t understand you girls. What’s so special about the back door?”

  Darby’s only answer was to twirl around him and clap her hands.

  I shoved my feet into my boots and stared down the open garage door like it had just challenged me.

  “It’s because I have something to show you,” I told them. The future Olympic sport of garage door hopping was about to go public.

  “Does this have anything to do with—” Dad called.

  But I’d already jammed my thumb into the glowing orange button. I raced across the empty place where Mom’s car should be and leaped over the sensor before the door crushed me. I skidded into an almost perfect landing, and ended with a gymnast’s victory stance.

  Darby erupted into applause. Dad crossed his arms and glared down his nose.

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” he asked. “Never again, Leigh.”

  “Right. Sorry.” And that was why that Olympic sport never caught on.

  Dad and I stepped to the edge of the driveway while Darby looked both ways before sprinting across the street. Sharp wind tugged my hair into my face. The red anarchy symbol on my black, long-sleeved t-shirt waved and swelled with each snapping gust. A constant bass beat threaded the blustery evening from up ahead. All the car windows Dad and I passed caught the dramatic pink and purple streaks in the sky, a constant reminder that night was coming, which was why I went without sunglasses.

  “Dad?” I said.

  He took a deep, cleansing breath, his face relaxed for the first time in a long while. “Hmm?”

  “Where did you get the book? That book?” I didn’t dare say the title out loud because it revolted me too much.

  Dad glanced up ahead at Darby, who picked up sticks and rocks from the sidewalk and shoved them into her pockets while she walked. “Your great-grandpa, whom you never met.”

  “Why did he give it to you?”

  “He died and left me all his books. He was a little obsessed with sorcery and magic. My parents didn’t take him seriously and distanced themselves from him because they thought he wouldn’t be a good influence, which is why you never met him.”

  “So...was he a Sorcerer?”

  He shook his head at the sidewalk. “You’ve been reading too many of your sister’s Merlin books.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” If he could peer into my head, he would believe in much more than sorcery. I gave an exaggerated nod, as though I was checking to be sure my knowledge was tucked safely inside.

  But sorcery was real. That book was real. And my great-grandpa knew about it. So did that make him a Sorcerer? If sorcery did run in Dad’s blood, that would mean Mom was just a Trammeler, not a Trammeler Sorceress like I’d assumed. But if Mom had known about Dad’s family, why would she marry him if she knew a Trammeler plus a Sorcerer plus baby-making could equal someone who was at risk of becoming Three?

  “Did Mom know this great-grandpa?” I asked.

  “She never met him, either. She was pregnant with you when he died and left me his books. I’ll never forget the look on her face when they arrived in the mail. She looked like she was about to go into labor. I don’t think she was big on magic.”

  Oh, Dad. If you only knew.

  “So she didn’t know great-grandpa believed in that stuff when she married you?” I asked.

  “Well, I didn’t believe in it.”<
br />
  So it had been too late. Mom had been pregnant with me when she’d found out about Dad’s sorcery blood. What else could she do but keep it all a big secret? My thoughts swirled around like the red plastic cup that skipped across the sidewalk and into Darby’s hands.

  The thump of music grew louder, so I raised my voice. “When you and Mom... Did you ever hear bells? Like when you and her...kissed?” My face flushed, not because I was embarrassed, but because I didn’t want to hurt him with memories.

  He stopped, and his eyes widened. “How did you—?” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale and covered his mouth, fighting for control because his daughter was too stupid to keep her mouth shut.

  My heart splintered, and I threw my arms around him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He crushed me to him and stared at a spot over my head, remembering. “No. It’s good to talk about her. It was before you were born, but yes, every time I’d kiss her, every time she laughed, bells would ring. She said it was just my imagination, but... Well, anyway, one day they just stopped.”

  But why would they just stop? Tram’s never did. Was it because she worked for Tram anonymously and was therefore off the Counselor’s radar?

  I tried to smile up at Dad, but it felt more like a grimace. “Do I know how to kill the mood for a party or what?”

  “You’re okay, Leigh.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head, and that one statement lifted some of the gloom and doom from the air.

  People had spilled into the Monroe’s front yard, and most of them carried red plastic cups. A few littered the street, spinning around wherever the wind took them.

  I winced. Jo was probably having a conniption if she hadn’t already detonated with rage. She called plastic the spawn of the devil. Fitting, since all of it was red.

  Darby hovered at the edge of the Monroe’s yard, waving at us to hurry and talking as if we could hear a word she said.

  “Hey,” I yelled, tugging on her ponytail. “Stop blabbing for a second and help me pick up these cups.”

  She chased after the nearest one, her prattles morphing into giggles, as the cup hopped and clattered away with the wind. Dad became the official cup holder once we collected as many as we could. We’d all just earned Jo’s Earth Saver Medal of Honor. Yeah, it really existed. She printed certificates out on recycled paper every year and mailed them out to deserving people.

  We weaved through the crowded yard and inside the house where the noise was less ear-shattering. Elf stood on the stair banister where he could survey those who dared enter his domain and keep watch over the kitchen to his left at the same time. When his green eyes flicked to mine, he greeted me with a low, guttural growl. A gray striped tail bushed out in spikes and pointed straight up.

  “Elf, it’s me,” I said and offered him my palm to sniff, but he spit out a warning hiss and took off into the kitchen. I stared after him. He’d always been his usual lover-boy self toward me. What changed? But then I knew, or thought I did. I tasted dead. He must’ve known that with his crazy strong animal senses.

  “He hates you,” Darby said with a pat on my arm. Then she bounded past the kitchen and into the living room.

  “Yeah.” But I didn’t think Elf had it in him to hate anyone. He’d never showed me his fangs before. His reaction to me hurt, more than I cared to admit. I looked over my shoulder at Dad and shrugged. “Good thing we don’t have any cats.”

  “I guess so. I’m going to see if I can help with the grill.” Dad unloaded his armful of cups into mine and followed Darby.

  “Try not to eat anyone,” I called after them.

  People darted in and out of the house through both the front door and the sliding one that led to the backyard. Smiles plastered the faces of pretty much the entire school, including teachers and parents. Callum was getting quite the send-off. I wondered if everyone liked him so much they wanted to eat him, too.

  The crowd in the living room parted before a copper-haired girl with a livid spark in her dark eyes stormed through the sliding door and trampled them.

  “Leigh,” she hissed when she saw me. “My parents insisted on plastic cups and plates. Can you believe it? They are beyond reason just like the guy who invented these things.” She held up a red spork. “I don’t even know what this is!”

  “Breathe. Strike a yoga pose,” I said, guiding her back outside where the music pounded my temples. “I’ll help you clean all of this up and then we’ll drive to the nearest town that will recycle it.”

  “What if the mayor finds out about this, though? What if he disinvites me to speak to the city council?”

  “He won’t, and even if he did see this, he’s not blind.” I had to shout into her ear for me to hear myself. “He wants you there because he can see you’re passionate about environmentalism.” An empty plate rolled up to my boot and smeared something yellow over my ankle. I sighed. “Even if your parents aren’t.”

  She shook her head into her palm. “I am so ashamed of them, I can’t even think straight.”

  I patted her back and tried to spot Darby. Miguel stood by the back fence, swooping down on tumbling cups and plates with fingers splayed out like talons. No wonder Jo shaved her legs for him.

  When I found Darby with half a hot dog in her mouth, I communicated through dramatic pointing at the plate in her hand and an imaginary noose around her neck that Jo would hang her if she dropped it. She nodded her understanding and snatched some guy’s empty plate out of his hands when he passed. I nodded my approval and left her to her hot dog.

  The music seemed to drop half a decibel when I neared the side of the house. I breathed out my relief and sagged against a wall. While scanning the lawn for anything trashy, I found Megan. She stood straddling Callum’s hip, one finger hooked over the rip at his neck. A wide grin split his face while he nodded at some jock next to him. He seemed not to notice the girl attached to him, and yet he wasn’t pushing her off of him, either.

  My cheeks burned, and I looked away. My heart pounded a painful dent into my ribs. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care, but another glance proved I did. He turned his head to some other chatty girl and gave her an intense but warm look, with traces of laughter that always edged the sly curl of his mouth.

  I hated him for looking at her like that, the way he sometimes looked at me. I hated that he was leaving tomorrow for a campus full of girls who would fling scantily clad bodies at his lips. And Megan with her legs almost completely wrapped around him... Would she make him a slutty offer on his last night here? Give him something to remember her by before he got lost in the lip gloss smothered swarm at college?

  It felt like a punch to the stomach just thinking about it. I couldn’t be here if that was what they planned to do, but if I left, I wouldn’t see Callum again for a long time, and that made it so hard to breathe.

  Tears stung my eyes, which pushed a surge of anger through my veins. How could he make me feel this way? Like rage and want battling inside me? Half of me wanted to confront him and bloody his mouth again. The other half knew if I did, I might fall to pieces under the hurt look in his eyes. I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than I already had, yet he continued to upset me just by the thought of him leaving. It wasn’t fair.

  I turned and ran back around the house. It was a wussy thing to do, but it felt better than standing around wringing my hands like some pathetic girl.

  Jo and Miguel dragged a huge trash bag behind them across the yard. When I opened the sliding glass door for them, Jo locked eyes with mine. Her defeated expression sharpened.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I shook my head since I didn’t want to put it into words. “What’s up, Miguel?”

  “The sky.” He gave me a nervous grin and scrubbed a hand through his short, black hair. “I’m just chilling with my girl.”

  Jo pointed to the trash bag and lifted her eyebrows. “Is that what we’re doing? Chilling?”

  “It doesn’t matter what we
do,” he said and leaned down to give her a peck on the nose.

  Jo’s eyes fell closed at his touch. Splashes of color brightened her cheeks. She had it so bad for him, and it was easy to see why. His world seemed to revolve around her.

  He heaved the bag over his shoulder and followed Jo into the kitchen where they filled it up even more.

  With a heavy sigh, Jo leaned against the empty counter, smearing a finger through a dollop of spilled ketchup without noticing. “I hate my brother with a deep, unending passion.”

  I could’ve seconded that, but I reached for the refrigerator handle instead. “Here. A can of carbonated greatness will happify you.” Three popped tops later and the only person who looked happy was Miguel who aaaaahhed after every swig.

  “Stop.” Jo smacked him in the gut and giggled. “That’s annoying.”

  “So what did Callum do to piss you off?” I asked, desperately needing another reason to hate him.

  “He didn’t stick up for me. He knows about my recycling crusade, but did he say a word about it to back up my argument to our parents? Nooooo.”

  “He’s busy, Jo,” Miguel said. “He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

  The spark ignited inside Jo’s eyes again, and Miguel stepped back with his hands up to ward off her anger.

  “I don’t like the bros before hoes mentality, okay?” Jo said.

  “Got it. Sorry.” Miguel scooped up the bag, his mouth set in a firm line. “I’m going to go take the trash out. And you’re not a ho.”

  As soon as he left the kitchen, Jo sagged her shoulders, looking totally defeated. “I’m such a bitch. I didn’t mean to snap at him.”

  “You’re not a bitch. You’re stressed. There’s a difference.” I crossed the kitchen to stand by her and to give her a bump with my hip. “But he’s helping you, not hanging out with his bro’s.”

  “You’re right,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “Boys can sure be complicated sometimes.”