by Amelia Oz
That was debatable. I switched off her car's automatic overhead lights, so we wouldn't be revealed when the doors opened. The door handle found its way into my slippery grip and I carefully opened it, Mira following my example. Hunched over, I hurried across the street, crossed Amanda's lawn, and hustled down her driveway to the gate separating her backyard. Turning, I jumped to see Mira inches from my face. She grinned like the Cheshire cat. Okay then.
Unnerved by her stealth, I unlatched the gate and led the way into Amanda's backyard. Once my cousin slipped by, I latched it closed, suddenly grateful Amanda only had a cat. A barking dog would shatter my nerves at this point. I shoved hair behind my ears and searched the darkened yard.
The backyard was enveloped in darkness. Behind the back fence was an alley illuminated by a lone streetlamp, but the dim yellow light was no match for the deep shadows. I glanced over at Scott's yard and caught sight of the top of his mother's clothesline.
Cupping my hand against Mira's ear, I whispered, "There's a spare key. Just wait by the backdoor while I get it." She nodded and moved to the back steps, silent as a ghost.
I crouched next to the stones that bordered the herb garden Marion kept in meticulous order. Counting the stones, I picked up what should have been the fake plastic rock that held their spare house key. But it was heavy. A real stone. Counting again, I picked four different rocks—all real. Frustrated, I raked over the stones, trying to locate the false one.
"Do you want me to break in?" came Mira's voice next to my head.
I fell over, hand to my chest. "Shhh!"
She grinned, her gold tooth flashing in the low light. "I can break the back window. I know how to do it quietly." Of course, she did.
"Pssst," came a voice. Mira and I froze.
"Pssst." The sound was coming from Scott's side of the fence.
I turned my head, and sure enough, his face hovered over the top of the wooden fence.
Oh, boy. I swiveled to glare at Mira but she was already heading towards him. I followed, brushing dirt from my jeans.
Scott's hands appeared on the top of the fence, and he vaulted over, landing in Amanda's yard. I waited for him to straighten, a weird nudge in my chest at seeing him. He was barefoot and wore jeans and a ripped Led Zeppelin t-shirt. I inwardly rolled my eyes at his fixation with the 70s.
"Hey," he said, hands in his back pockets.
"Hey," I returned.
He cocked his head at Mira, and she slinked into a pose that jutted one hip to the side and pushed her chest forward. His eyes predictably landed exactly where she intended.
"Hi," she cooed. Did she flirt with everyone?
Scott nodded at her before he returned to contemplate me. The dim light cast his eyes into shadows, the planes of his face in sharp relief. His tousled hair indicated he'd been pulling at it or had just woken up.
"I saw you guys from my bedroom when you got out of the car. What are you doing here? Amanda's not home," he murmured. So, my career as a spy was short lived. I gnawed the inside of my cheek. Who else had seen us? Were they calling the police as we stood here? Scott seemed to read my mind.
"Hey, don't worry. I just happened to be up, but most people on the street are asleep by ten," he said in the familiar husky voice that used to send shivers along my skin.
"Amanda and her parents are missing. I'm worried," I explained, trying to keep our conversation brief.
He surveyed her house and yard. "Hang on. I think we still have her house key in our kitchen. Mrs. Nightingale gave it to my mom, so she could water the plants the last time they went to Vancouver."
I started to protest, losing my nerve, but he was already across the fence.
I tried to ignore Mira, but there was nothing else to look at while we waited.
When I finally glanced at her, I was rewarded with a smirking grin. "Stella and Hot Guy, kissing in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G," she began in a low sing-song voice. Was she drunk?
I punched her in the shoulder, missed and hit her boob.
"Ow!" She punched me harder in the arm.
"Quiet!" I hissed as she grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked.
Scott returned to the fence, making short work of climbing over.
Mira stepped away as his gaze flickered between us.
"This is my cousin," I whispered. "Her name is Mira. M.I.R.A." If questioned later by the police, I wanted to make sure he spelled her name right.
Shrugging, he paced up to Amanda's back door. We followed, waiting as he fit a key in the lock and opened the door. Standing aside, he allowed us to go in first.
I turned to thank him, thinking he would wait outside, but found his face inches from mine. I gasped, unable to help myself. I stepped backwards.
"You don't have to come in." If we were getting into trouble, he shouldn't be part of it. His mother would kill him.
"I'm already inside. What are we looking for?" His voice was the same rich bass I remembered. Sudden memories of his hands beneath my shirt and long, languid kisses flooded my brain. And in a split second those memories were replaced with an image of Alaric. He was taller than Scott. I wondered whether he was a better kisser.
"Uh. Just whether they are here, and if not, clues where they could have gone."
"Got it." He whispered with a thumbs up. I turned and led the way through Amanda's mudroom and into her kitchen.
Mira was ass-up into the refrigerator.
The fridge light illuminated the kitchen and I gasped. "Close that!" I hissed.
Her head popped up. "Relax. I was just checking. It's been emptied. Nothing in here but a box of baking soda." That couldn't be right. Marion always kept it well-stocked with fresh produce.
I peered inside, just to be sure. She was right. Stepping to the trash can, I lifted the lid and found it empty. This morning the garbage had been half full. This morning, sitting at the table with a green juice, seemed a million years ago.
Curious, I edged my way to the bottom of her stairs. The upstairs was dark. No sound drifting down to us. I took the first step, wincing as the board creaked.
Mira flew past me, glancing back at me in challenge as she chuckled.
I glared at her daring and began to pursue. Scott tugged at my hand. I turned, unwanted heat pooling in my gut as memories surfaced. "Stella. I wanted to tell you...I really liked you. Like you."
I swallowed hard. This was the moment I'd been waiting for. Why did it feel so awkward?
"Uh-huh. That's why you stuck your tongue down that girl's throat right in front of me." The memory still wounded, whack-a-moling the butterflies in my stomach.
I couldn't see his face, but he bent his head, thick sandy hair flopping over his eyes.
"Stella...my mom didn't want me to see you."
I was shocked. His mother was always a little cool towards me, yet I hadn't known she actively disliked me. We had barely spoken more than a few words to one another.
"You broke my heart because your mom didn't like me?"
"No! I mean, I didn't know how to talk to you about it."
I tried to digest this news, half listening for Mira's footsteps.
His thumb moved across my wrist. Last year, his touch would have made my arm weak. Now it just felt annoying and I tugged my hand free. I didn't know what to think about this. Even if Sam hated Scott, I would not have broken up or hurt him so deliberately.
"I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered.
Mira appeared in front of us. Scott stepped back, or I pulled away, I wasn't sure which.
"The bedrooms are empty and the closets are half full. It looks like they did a runner. I didn't see a cellphone in the girlie room."
A faint voice drifted outside, from the front lawn. "Scooott?"
Oh shit. Scott's mother. I glanced at my phone to find a missed text from Silvan. Crazy lady in pajamas on the move!
Scott gave a frustrated grunt and hurried to the backdoor
with Mira and me right behind him.
"She's been checking in on me at night. She must've seen I wasn't in bed," he explained. I bit my tongue on a dozen snarky responses.
"Dude. Aren't you a little old for your mom to be calling you home? You might want to move out already," Mira advised. I smirked, happy for once at her lack of filter. We stopped at the backdoor.
Scott faced me, his features tense.
"I'll take the key back and lock up in the morning." Not waiting for my response, he jogged back to the fence and vaulted over. I glanced at Mira and noted her grin and wide eyes. At least one of us was enjoying all this excitement. We shut the door and tiptoed through the house to the living room window where we could view the street. Mrs. Caywood was standing in her front yard in a housecoat. The woman would definitely call the police if she suspected we were here. She continued to call for Scott until I heard his baritone answer from their front porch. I scanned the street and noticed the top of Silvan’s head sink lower in the backseat of Mira’s car.
"Mom! I'm right here."
Mrs. Caywood turned and marched back to her own house.
Their voices mingled, rose sharply, and faded.
What time is it? I crept to the front entry and inched close to the grandfather clock that ticked steadily in a corner. Almost 12:30 in the morning. Sudden insight flashed as I stared at the clock hands. What if the 0200 on Amanda's note was military time for two o'clock?
"Did you see her cat?" I whispered to Mira.
She shook her head.
Racing to the laundry room off the kitchen, I noted that the cat's litter box was missing. Wherever they'd gone, they'd taken Amanda's tabby with them. I bent over my knees in relief—Dr. Pepper was a mean-ass cat that only liked Amanda. Kidnappers wouldn't have bothered to take a pet, especially one that would scratch your face off. Unless they wanted to stage a different scenario.
I bit my lip, worried Mrs. Caywood was still awake. What if she was watching the street? I had to hope that knowing Scott was under lock and key would send her back to bed. We crept back through the house, returning to the mudroom. The yard remained dark and empty. Peering around the doorjamb, I noted the absence of lights at Scott's house.
Mira shoved me onto the porch and shut the door behind her. By the time I straightened she was already hotfooting it back to the gate. I nearly caught it in the face as her giggling figure flung it wide. I kicked her, but she was so fast that my sneaker barely clipped her ankle. "Shhhh!" I warned.
She gave me the stink eye over her shoulder but never slowed. We reached her car in record time and locked the doors once safely inside. We slumped down in the seats and looked at each other, adrenaline pumping wildly.
“This is so messed up. I nearly peed my pants when she came out of the house.” Silvan whispered from the backseat floorboards. We snorted, the sound melding into laughter. Big, rib shaking, can't breathe laughter.
"What's next?" gasped Mira when she could speak again. She fumbled for her car keys and I checked the time.
"Can I trust you to keep a secret?" I meant Mira. Silvan, I trusted with my life. I had no idea where the impulse came from. Asking one of the twisted sisters to keep a secret should have been like asking a snowman to visit hell and return without breaking a sweat.
Mira went still as a statue. With a solemn face, she crossed her heart with her fingers three times and then across her throat. I figured this meant yes.
"I think the picture of Stonehenge may refer to the fake one in Maryhill. It's about an hour and a half away." If she balked, I would go back for my car.
"I know where that is." She picked up her phone and entered an address into the GPS.
"There are a few numbers handwritten on the page. 0200. I think that means 2:00. I just don't know whether that's morning or afternoon."
"We won't know until we try, will we?"
“Silvan?” I locked eyes with his in the rearview mirror. He shrugged.
“Do you even need to ask?” His voice was resigned.
* * *
The drive was long and Mira insisted on playing too much Patsy Cline. At one point she lowered the volume. Silvan’s light snore didn’t falter.
"I overheard what that guy said to you. About his mom not liking you."
I squirmed in my seat, beyond mortified. I'd stopped cataloguing all the ways Mira could make my life hell, but this was probably the worst revelation.
"I just want you to know that it happens. Most people hate the Rom because of all the stories and don't want their kids mixing with us. That's why we stick together, you know? So don't worry. There are lots of guys out there."
I didn't know what to say so I turned up the volume. She took the hint, which was a miracle with Mira. It never occurred to me that Mrs. Caywood wouldn't like me because of my heritage. I wasn't even sure how she knew of it, as I didn't look like my cousins. It was terrible that that kind of discrimination was something Mira felt you should get used to.
The car lot next to Maryhill Memorial Park loomed empty but for a yellow Gremlin in the corner that appeared abandoned. Disappointment settled like sawdust in my throat.
No sign of Amanda's Jetta.
Mira was already climbing out of the car, so Silvan and I followed, stretching our legs. A breeze kicked up, ruffling the leaves overhead. The unexpected chill had me hugging myself. The cement monument that was fake Stonehenge rose high on the hill, and I was surprised to find it seemed designed to scale. Built as a memorial to soldiers who'd died in the First World War, it rested high above the Columbia River.
As we trudged up the trail a bird chirped, followed by a high trill. The call was unfamiliar and the bird making it circled overhead. Its brilliant white feathers and black face with red beak were distinctive. I stopped in my tracks to point upwards, mouth agape.
"What is it?" whispered Mira. Silvan looked up and stopped as well.
"Hold on. It looks...that looks like an arctic tern." Silvan breathed. That was pretty much impossible. Arctic terns migrated hundreds of miles west in a loop that spanned the poles. They would never be so far inland. Terns preferred colder climates, making their nests on quiet rocky beaches. The bird made lazy loops, its dark head bent as if watching us.
“I think you’re right, Silvan.” Its deeply forked tail was too distinctive to be anything else.
"Come on! It's almost two o'clock!" Mira tugged my arm and we followed her up the hill to the massive monument.
We bypassed the closed visitor center and its signs that warned visitors away from the park after hours. The silence was unbroken as we rounded the dark hulking shape of the memorial. The Columbia River shone down in the valley, and I breathed the fresh air in deep gulps. There was something magical about deep night, something that sparked to life.
"Stella?" I turned to search for the familiar voice.
Chapter 9
The Hierophant
Stella
oonlight cast shadows from the archways of Maryhill Stonehenge and Silvan switched on his keychain flashlight. He aimed at the entrance just as a figure dressed in tan cargo shorts and a green rumpled t-shirt stepped towards us.
"Thomas?”
"Hi, Stella. Amanda said you would figure it out."
His steps slowed as he took in the sight of Mira and Silvan behind me. Curly brown hair framed a narrow face with pointed chin. His eyeglasses gave him an owlish appearance and I relaxed a bit. It really was Thomas; the same boy Amanda and I’d shared chemistry and astrology home school classes with.
“Your mom told me you’d started working here. Amanda thinks too highly of my detective skills.” I admitted. I was rather good at guessing the ending of most books.
“She didn’t mention skills—but she did say you were exceedingly stubborn.” Disgruntled, I remembered now how exact and literal Thomas could be. He gave a short nod to Silvan but pointed his chin at Mira. "Silvan’s cool but who is she? You were meant to come alone."
Mira scooted close and then flashed her phone's mag light in Thomas’ face. The blinding illumination caused Thomas to throw up his hands while I shook my head, disbelieving.
"Who are you?" Mira demanded. I pushed her arm down.
"Thomas, this is my cousin, Mira. Mira—this is Thomas, a friend from school."
"I thought you were home schooled?"
"He was in my home school classes."
We were exposed here in the open. Adding to my discomfort was the fact that Mira was now pressed into my shoulder, unbalancing me while Thomas glared holes into her.
"You were supposed to come alone. I was only okay speaking to you, Stella.” He wrung his hands, his sneakers scraping gravel as he shuffled backwards.
"What? Wait! Where is Amanda?" I demanded, sweeping the area for signs of my friend.
"I've failed. It’ll be too late, now."
"Hold up," I insisted, alarmed at his reaction. Turning abruptly, Thomas dashed between the hulking pillars and ran inside Stonehenge. Seriously? I followed, giving chase as he ducked between and around a shorter series of stones that stood within the outer circle.
Behind me came an exhilarated war cry as Mira joined the pursuit. We reached the center of the memorial and Thomas skidded to a stop before a long stone slab that resembled an altar.
"Stop, Thomas! Why are you running away?"
He didn't answer but instead stared at the altar. Following his line of sight, I noticed a bird, with feathers so white they appeared to glow in the moonlight, perched on top of the stone slab. An arctic tern, larger than most. This close I could detect the orange-red beak among its black helmet and snowy white plumage. It had to be the bird we'd seen circling the parking lot earlier. There couldn't be two this far from their normal flight patterns, right?
Thomas fell to his knees, arms stretched over his head to touch the ground.
Silvan jogged up to us. "What's wrong with him?" he panted. I shook my head and shrugged, still scanning the dark for some sign of Amanda. Where was she?
The bird studied Thomas' prostrate form until Thomas rose to return the creature's regard, his hands on his thighs.