A Girl Called Dust

by V. B. Marlowe

  The school’s gym had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Even though Mom had insisted on buying me some fancy dress she’d seen in a boutique, I had made my own navy-blue satin dress, and I was very proud of the finished product. The dress was simple, long and fitted, with a jewel-encrusted belt and faux diamonds dangling from the neckline. I had granted one of Mom’s request and worn a pair of silver heels that were already killing my feet.

  Admission to the ball was one gently used coat that would be given to charity. At the door, Fletcher and I handed our coat donations to the volunteers then checked our own coats in at the station in the corner of the gym.

  The decorating committee had outdone themselves. White trees lined the walls, while silver snowflakes dangled from the ceiling. A snow machine blew fake snow into the air. Arches of white Christmas lights framed the doorways. The gym looked magical.

  Since Fletcher refused to dance, he and I sat at a table, nibbling on finger foods and drinking punch. Even though we were just there as friends, a small part of me pretended we were on a date. The dance wasn’t half bad, but I sort of wished I could enjoy it like a normal person instead of having to keep an eye out for an imitation Wendigo.

  “When did you start to change?” I asked Fletcher as couples hit the floor for a slow song.

  “When most kids do. A little after my thirteenth birthday. I had to sleep in a cage.”

  I laughed because I thought he had to be joking, but Fletcher didn’t crack a smile. “Really? They put you in a cage?”

  He nodded. “Yep. They had to.”

  I thought about my father’s words that night at the restaurant—that he would do what he had to do to protect the family. I bet he would put me in a cage if he had to.

  Fletcher took a huge gulp of my punch. “I couldn’t really control myself at first, and I might have hurt them. Anyway, at first it really hurt. I would be on all fours. Fur would poke out of my body. It felt like needles pricking me. My hands and feet would turn into paws and claws. My nose would become a snout. Then when I turned fifteen, I started changing into the other animals—the snake and the owl.”

  “Can you always control when you change?”

  “No. At first it only happened at night, but now it can happen any time if I let it. When a Walker gets angry enough, they can change and not be able to control it. That’s why I have to stay calm all the time.”

  I stared at him. I’d never really seen him lose his temper.

  “You think I never wanted to kick Ranson’s ass? If I let myself get angry at him or anyone else, I would change right in front of everyone and probably rip him to shreds.”

  Wow. I had never known that there was a method to Fletcher’s madness. I was about to ask him why he had never told me that when my phone dinged. The only person who ever texted me was Fletcher, so I assumed it was one of my parents. I checked my phone to see that the text was from Bailey.

  Hey Arden. Plz meet me n bathroom by library. I want 2 come n, but kind of self-conscious. Could use a pep talk and some 1 2 walk n with.

  I hadn’t expected Bailey to come to the ball or to show her face at school ever again, but I was glad she had decided to come. Then I remembered how she had threatened me with the meat cleaver and made up those awful lies about me.

  “Bailey’s here,” I told Fletcher. “She wants me to get her from the girls’ bathroom.”

  Fletcher crinkled his nose. “Did she bring her meat cleaver?”

  “Fletch,” I whined, but I understood. I was still angry with Bailey for the things she’d said, but the thought of her standing in the bathroom afraid to show her face to the world made me forget all that. Despite all we’d been through, she needed me.

  “I’m just saying,” Fletcher said. “Why would you still want to be friends with someone who would accuse you of doing something so horrible?”

  “Are you kidding me? I recall someone else who used to blame me for things I didn’t do.”

  His cheeks reddened, and he looked down at the table. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I should have known better, but all the signs pointed to you.”

  “Forget it.” I rose from my seat. “I’m going to get her.”

  Fletcher stood too. “I’m coming with you.”

  Walking down the deserted hallways and away from the dance made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. School was bad enough during the day; at night it was super creepy. Moonlight from the windows cast sinister shadows on the walls. Even with Fletcher beside me, I was tempted to turn around and go back, but Bailey needed me.

  We rounded a corner, moved past the darkened library, and stood in front of the girls’ bathroom. “I’ll wait here,” Fletcher said as he took a drink from the water fountain.

  I pushed the bathroom door open, poking my head inside. The bathroom was dark except for a small amount of light that shone through the tiny windows near the ceiling. Something in the air smelled dead and stale. Even for a bathroom, it was rank.

  I stepped inside, letting the door fall closed behind me. “Bailey, it’s Arden. Are you in here?”

  “Don’t turn on the light,” she whispered just as I was feeling along the wall for the switch.

  “Okay. I won’t.” Something clinked, and the door of the farthest stall creaked open. A dark form stepped out.

  “Bailey, you don’t have to hide from me. I’m sure you look absolutely beautiful.”

  “I’m hideous,” she said, sniffling.

  I walked closer to her until we stood almost nose to nose. A black veil covered her face. “Um, I guess you could wear that if it makes you feel comfortable. Can I see?”

  She nodded, so I pulled her veil back.

  Bailey wasn’t underneath it. It was a . . . thing. The thing cackled at me.

  Stunned, I took a step back. The thing wore a black robe, and her white, pasty skin almost glowed in the moonlight. Flaming red eyes and a long hooked nose made her look almost demon-like. Bony hands with sharp, pointy claws came from underneath the sleeves of her robe.

  From my reading, I knew exactly what she was. I stepped back again. “Hag.”

  The Hag smiled with her thin gray lips. “Smart girl. You’re late to the party, but you’re learning,” she said in a raspy voice.

  “What do you want? Why did you pretend to be Bailey?”

  She stepped closer to me. “I needed to get you alone.”

  “Why?”

  To answer my question, she lurched forward, tackling me to the ground. My head banged against the cool tile. A dull, shooting pain throbbed at the back of my head. She was much stronger and faster than a Human.

  “You would have been better off staying lost,” the Hag said. Her breath was hot and sour against my face. I gagged at the smell.

  I moved my head from side to side, trying to shake the pain away. “What does that even mean?”

  The Hag pinned my shoulders to the ground with her large, bony hands. “When no one knew what you were. But then you had to start doing weird things. Drawing attention to yourself.”

  I tried with everything in me to push her off me, but she wouldn’t budge. When was I going to gain the type of strength the others had? Her knees pressed into my stomach. “Get off. You’re crushing me.”

  “Oh, I’m going to do a lot more than that.” She looked deep into my eyes as if trying to hypnotize me. “Everyone is talking about this special girl. The one who’s one of a kind. The one with the ability to kill people with her thoughts. The one who can predict death. Are you seeing yours right now?”

  Stars formed in my vision as I struggled to breathe.

  “I’m just cutting to the chase, really. In less than a year, you’ll be an uncontrollable beast. You don’t want to become a Wendigo now, do you? You’ll have to be killed or put away. I’m actually doing you a favor.”

  I tried to pry her claws from where they pierced my throat. A trickle of blood ran down my neck. It felt like a bug was crawling on me. “What?”

  The
Hag smiled again, her eyes glowing. “Kill you and then grind your bones. That’s the only way to kill a Banshee. I’m sure you know that. But you have to be a fully transformed Banshee in order to be killed that way. That’s why I couldn’t kill you right away. Banshee bones are priceless to those who know how to use them. I’ve known your secret for a long time. I even gave you a hint. Why do you think I named you Dust?”

  I choked for a moment, thinking the Hag had sucked the air out of me, but the shock of her revelation had done it. “Lacey?”

  “Yes.”

  I couldn’t process what was happening. Lacey was a Hag? The Queen Bee who hated anything and anyone that was different?

  “You mask your smell?”

  “The best of us can.”

  Something sharp stuck me in my throat.

  “A simple prick will put you right to sleep until you’re a full-grown Banshee. Don’t worry. I can teach you how to become one.”

  Think, Arden. I couldn’t defeat her physically, at least not in the vulnerable position she had me in, so I had to use my words. Mrs. Martin’s stupid speech class came to my mind. I needed to persuade her not to stick that needle into my throat by distracting her.

  “That’s why you tried to make me feel unimportant.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “What?”

  “That’s why you wanted to make me feel insignificant—like I didn’t matter—because the fact is, I’m the most important. I’m the only creature that’s mixed like me. I have a power inside me that everyone wants—that everyone’s afraid of. I’m the most special, and you know that. You’re jealous, and you wanted to make me feel like I was the opposite. But what about you, Hag? There’s about a hundred of you in existence, right? How special does that make you?”

  She grabbed my neck and squeezed, cutting off my air. I managed to pry her hands from my throat. “You’re ugly and I’m beautiful. I’m a Banshee. I’ll never look like you.”

  She grimaced. No one was as superficial as Lacey. She must hate being a Hag. “What’s beautiful really? Other than a label that could mean a hundred different things to a hundred different people. Let’s see how pretty you think you are after I write my name across your face with my claws. Ask Bailey how my cosmetic procedure worked for her.”

  Anger surged through me at the mention of Bailey’s name. I grabbed her wrists and sank my nails into them. “You’re a Taker. You’re not supposed to kill me.”

  “I’m not supposed to do a lot of things. Besides, I’m not going to kill you yet. Just put you to sleep.”

  I tried desperately to remember everything I had learned about Hags. They were evil. There was nothing good about a Hag. They found their prey at night by sitting on their chests and stealing their air. Hags were cowards in my opinion because they usually attacked their victims while they slept. I couldn’t think of anything I remembered about how they died or how to kill them.

  Something banged against the bathroom wall. Lacey and I paused and looked toward the door. A gray wolf walked toward us menacingly, orange eyes focused on the Hag. Fletcher snarled.

  Lacey narrowed her eyes at him. “Walker.” Fletcher came closer, barking ferociously. The echo bounced off the bathroom walls. Lacey pulled the needle away from my throat and held her hands up in defensive mode. “Okay, okay.” She pushed herself off of me and backed toward the window.

  I sat up and scooted to the side just as Fletcher lunged at Lacey, his powerful jaws ripping through her robe and latching onto her leg.

  Lacey let out a shriek and kicked at Fletcher with her other leg. A hard kick connected with Fletcher’s side, and he let go, sliding a few feet back.

  Lacey glared at me. “Your friend won’t always be around to save those precious bones of yours.” She ascended into the air as if invisible ropes were pulling her up, her dark robes fluttering around her. She shot through the window, causing an explosion of glass, and then disappeared into the moonlight.

  Fletcher sat panting and staring at me. I had the urge to hug him, but I didn’t know how he would feel about that, so I didn’t.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Fletcher sat beside me and licked the small cut Lacey had made on my neck. It disappeared immediately.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following morning, Fletcher and I sat on our usual park bench sharing a bag of salt-and-vinegar potato chips.

  “What did she mean about my bones? That she needed to use them for something.” I wondered out loud. “What can my bones do?”

  Fletcher shoved a chip into his mouth. “Don’t know.”

  “Fletch, you have to help me figure out a way to kill her.”

  He raised one eyebrow at me. “What?”

  “I know it sounds bad when I say it out loud, but really, what choice to I have? She’s going to come back and kill me. I might wake up one night with her sitting on my chest. She killed Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Chin, Trent, and Ed Hurley. She hurt Bailey. She can’t get away with that. She’s not going to stop on her own.”

  Fletcher handed me the bag of chips and dusted his hands off. “I don’t disagree that Lacey has to die, but you can’t be the one to do it.”

  “Why not? I’m the one she’s after.”

  Fletcher took my hand, salty and filled with crumbs, and I shuddered just a little. “Arden, there’s something you have to understand about being part Wendigo. Once you kill someone, you’ll eat them. That’s just your way. And once you get a taste of the flesh, you’ll develop an unquenchable appetite for it, and you won’t be able to stop. Killing Lacey will speed up the process of you turning into one of them.”

  Bringing myself closer to transformation was the last thing I wanted to do. “Then you kill her. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “I could, but I can only do that if she’s in her Hag form, and that’s not likely to happen now that she knows that we know.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do? Just sit around waiting for her to kill me?”

  Fletcher squeezed my hand tighter. “No, Arden. Use your head. Go to your people. Whether you want them to be or not, they’re your family. You need to tell them what’s going on and ask them what you’re supposed to do.”

  I didn’t want to do that. I wanted Fletcher to help me solve my problems like always. He squeezed my hand even tighter, and this time it hurt. “Please, Arden. Whatever you do, don’t kill her yourself. Promise me.”

  I gulped. “I promise.”

  It had been a while since I had been to the lair, and I dreaded going in.

  “You’re in trouuuuuble,” Wes sang when he saw me. He had been walking down the hallway reading a book.

  “What? How can I be in trouble when I’ve only been here for a second?”

  Something dinged in Wes’s pocket, and he pulled out his phone. “Mr. Mason wants to see you immediately.”

  I swallowed hard. It felt like I was being sent to the principal’s office. “Where is he?”

  “In his study. Downstairs. All the way at the end of the hallway. Make sure you knock first. He hates when people barge in.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. I didn’t even know there was a downstairs. Where’s the staircase?”

  “There’s no staircase that leads there. You’ll have to use the elevator.” He pointed down the hallway. “Take the last left, go as far as you can go, and you’ll come to it. Good luck.”

  Just like that, Wes had gone on about his business, leaving me to face Mr. Mason and whatever I had done wrong. I wished he could have at least given me a clue.

  I took my time walking even though I was only delaying the inevitable. Following Wes’s directions, I came to the elevator. It was a steel door with only one button to the left. I pushed it, and the doors slid open. Reluctantly, I stepped inside, and the doors banged shut behind me as if they were locking me in prison.

  The ride to the ground level was a short one, too short in my opinion. The bottom layer was creepily silent. There was
only one way to go—straight. The long hallway was lined with metal doors that were all closed. What was behind them?

  At the end, I came to a large door with a golden plaque that read M. Mason. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. After a moment, the door slid open on its own. I stepped into the doorway and stood there awkwardly. Mr. Mason sat at his desk with a large book open in front of him. “Come in.”

  I stepped inside, and the door shut behind me. I turned and stared at it, taking note that it had no handle. How the hell was I supposed to get out of there?

  “Sit,” he said curtly.

  Slowly, I made my way to one of the two leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. I couldn’t help but look at the entire wall he had filled with monitors watching different things. Mr. Mason scribbled something in the book with a fancy pen as if I wasn’t there.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  He glanced at me, slammed the book shut, and then folded his hands on top of it. “Yes. Is there something you would like to tell me?”

  I thought about what Fletcher had told me earlier in the park. The Takers were my family. They were the ones I needed to go to for help. “Yes. Last night I was attacked by a girl at my school, only she wasn’t just a girl, she’s a Hag. She says she’s going to kill me, and I believe her.”

  “I know that. I know all of that.” Of course he did. They had cameras all over the school. “What I don’t know is why you didn’t come to us immediately after this happened.”

  I shifted in my seat, feeling guilty. “Well, it only happened last night and I’m here now . . .”

  “But you went to a Giver, of all people, and not to your family.”

  “I’m sorry. Fletcher’s my friend—”

  Mr. Mason leaned forward, his face an older, meaner version of Hollis’s. “Let’s make one thing perfectly clear—you’re one of us. Not them. You have a problem, you come to us. The last person you should be discussing it with is a Giver. That boy can’t help you.”