“Good afternoon, Mr. Morehouse. I’ll page Dr. Conway and let him know you’re in Stacey’s room.”
Gray pivoted and followed on the heels of Stacey’s father.
“Hello, Mr. Morehouse, we just finished Stacey’s exercises,” the therapist said when he walked in.
So far all Gray had seen of Stacey’s father was his back. He wore no overcoat, only a dark suit jacket that matched his pants. “How is she today?” Mr. Morehouse’s tone was businesslike—lawyerly.
“Her body is healthy and strong,” the therapist answered. “It won’t take her long to regain her full strength once she wakes up.”
Gray wondered how much Mr. Morehouse paid the therapist to say that. Like the patchwork quilt and curtains, the therapist didn’t look hospital issued.
He nodded. “Thank you, Shannon. You may go now.”
“Sir . . . I thought I heard your daughter sob earlier.”
“When?”
“Not more than five minutes ago. Right before you came in.”
Mr. Morehouse took two large steps to the side of the hospital bed. “Stacey? Baby girl?”
Oh, god, Gray was going to hell. Except there was no heaven, which meant there wasn’t a hell, either, so maybe she was okay.
When there was no answer or movement, the therapist grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Morehouse. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”
“No, you were right to. Stacey’s a fighter. I know she’s trying to come back to me, and probably frustrated as hell. But she’ll make it. All in good time. We won’t rush her.”
The therapist nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Gray didn’t get a chance to intrude further on Mr. Morehouse’s private moment when the doctor walked in.
“Hello, Mr. Morehouse,” the doctor said, sounding as brisk and businesslike as the attorney.
“Dr. Conway.”
Gray quickly moved to the side before Mr. Morehouse had a chance to run into her.
“Level with me, Doctor. How is Stacey doing?”
The doctor took a stance several feet from the bed. “If I may say so, Mr. Morehouse, at this point we aren’t prolonging life. We’re prolonging death.”
Mr. Morehouse was bent over the side of his daughter’s bed. After the doctor spoke, his spine straightened. He looked like a tree that had been momentarily blown over in the wind, only to stretch to its original grandeur. It was easy to see where Stacey’s height came from. And when Mr. Morehouse spoke, Gray understood how the man had won every court case to come before him. “As long as my daughter has a breath in her body you will keep her alive. Do you understand, Doctor?”
* * *
Gray ought to use the Mr. Morehouse voice with Nolan when she finally tracked down the jerk. No show. No call. No nothing. What kind of guy did that?
“Hello, Mrs. Knapp. This is Charlene Perez again—just wondering if Nolan returned home.”
“Oh, dear, yes, he did, but then he left again.”
Gray waited for more, but apparently that was all his mother was going to say.
It was too late anyway, nearly three o’clock. Gray had already wasted one of her precious days waiting around for Nolan. What had happened to that boy and why was there an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach? That usually didn’t bode well.
Gray stomped into Charlene’s room. The pink cashmere sweater still lay in a heap on the floor. Hmm, what would enrage Charlene the most: leaving it on the floor for her to find or putting it away and having it appear on her body ripped when she snapped her fingers?
Gray snatched it off the ground and tossed it into Charlene’s closet. Then she opened The Book of Charlene, prepared to write something nasty. Nah, she had a better idea.
Gray grasped as much hair as she could get inside her hand, pulled it over her shoulder, took the scissors, and cut through the chunk in one long snip.
She swore she could hear her sister’s scream the next morning.
Chapter Twenty-Five
No calling Gray, Raj told himself for the tenth time since the soul-searing kiss she’d pressed into his lips earlier that morning.
Fine, but he had to do something.
Raj drove to the edge of town and parked on the street outside of Adrian’s business. He pulled out his lighter and snapped it open and shut, staring at the building for what felt like an eternity before getting out. Raj hadn’t been by in two months. Finally, he pushed open his car door and stepped to the pavement.
Adrian’s place didn’t have an awning like the surrounding shops, but an Old English– style sign hanging from a hook against the building.
Hedrick the Healer
The bell over the door jingled when Raj entered. “Adrian, you here?”
“In back.”
“Are you with someone?”
“Not for another hour.”
Raj followed Adrian’s voice into the back room. Adrian closed a text as Raj walked in and shoved it into an open space on his bookshelf. “I knew you’d be back. Great timing, too. I just let your replacement go.”
“Not up to par?”
“He made a man grow hair out of his nose rather than on his head.”
Raj did a quick scan of the packed bookshelves before resting his eyes on Adrian. “Adding cosmetic enhancements to the menu?”
“Baldness is an unfortunate condition.” Adrian’s lips curled back as he ran a hand through his own thick locks. “I hope you’re not rusty, McKenna, because I’m backlogged.”
“Actually, I’m here for a favor.”
“Favor,” Adrian repeated with a sneer, as though the word was worse than baldness.
“Do you still have your primordial texts?”
“I keep everything. What are you looking for?”
“Body transfers.”
Adrian smirked. “Getting a little too big for your britches, are you? Why would you want to look up a thing like that?”
“For a friend.”
“Raj, buddy, you have talent, but stay away from the body transfers. That sort of thing generally doesn’t go well.”
Raj rubbed his hand over the lump the Zippo made in his jeans pocket. “I’ll give your bald man hair . . . on his head.”
“I have three more screw-ups that need fixing.”
“Done.”
“And a long wait-list.”
Raj sighed. “Book them after school.”
Adrian clapped his hands together. “We’re back in business!” He smacked Raj on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about your friend. Under my direction you’ll get them their thinner body or younger exterior or whatever enhancement their heart desires.”
Again Raj sighed.
The bell on the front door clanked abruptly. “Adrian!”
Adrian’s grin widened as he pushed through the curtain to the main chamber. “Coming.”
Raj followed behind Adrian. A hunched older woman walked forward. With her babushka tied under her chin she looked like one of the matchmakers from Fiddler on the Roof. She set an old Superman lunch pail and soup thermos in the center of the round table. “Lunch.”
If this was Adrian’s mom, just how old was Adrian?
“Thanks, Nan.”
Ah.
After Raj had finished staring at the beat-up lunch box he noticed Adrian’s grandmother staring at him. “Hi,” he said.
She pursed her lips. “You need to stop making mistakes—very bad for business.”
Adrian laughed. “That was Marcus, Nan. This is Raj. Raj never screws up.”
Her face relaxed . . . slightly. “I have boils.”
“Boils, please!” Adrian said. “Boils make Raj yawn.” Adrian escorted his grandmother to the front door. “Thank you for the lunch, Nan. I’ll put you at the top of the client list.”
His grandmother placed a hand on Adrian’s cheek. “Don’t overwork yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“And eat your food.”
“Eat your food,” Adrian repeated with a snort afte
r the old woman had left. “As if I could resist Nan’s cooking.”
Raj stared at the thermos. Even Adrian had family who cared whether or not he was fed. “Are you and your grandmother close?”
“Hey, we’re not here to talk about my Nan.” Adrian stepped behind the curtain. “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch my lunch.”
When Adrian returned he dropped a tome that had to weigh at least ten pounds into Raj’s hands. “Take a look at this one—body transfers: the hardcore stuff. Basics bore me.”
Raj cracked the book open and looked directly back up. “This isn’t in English.” Adrian already had his lunch pail open and had arranged smaller containers around him with the tops off: a pickled beet salad, long bun, and some kind of gelatin substance with apricots and cream.
Adrian spun the lid off his thermos. Steam rose from the enclosed stew and tickled Raj’s nostrils. His thoughts darted from Gray to the muffins he never got to eat back to the book in his hands.
Adrian lifted his nose. “You don’t know Latin?”
“Should I?”
“All witches and warlocks ought to know Latin.”
“I don’t.”
Adrian sighed. “Warlocks today.” He bit into the roll and began chewing.
Raj tucked the text under his arm and headed for the door. “Enjoy your lunch. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You don’t really believe I’m going to let you leave with that, do you?”
“Yeah, it’s going to take me hours to translate.”
“Leave it,” Adrian said. “I’ll do the translating. Just make sure you’re here at three sharp Monday. At the end of the week we’ll discuss your friend.”
Raj gripped the volume. “We may not have a week.”
Adrian stopped chewing. “Not my problem.”
Raj dumped the book on the table and walked out. He’d just find someone else then. He didn’t have time for Adrian’s shenanigans. Despite what the man thought, there were other warlocks who could perform body transfers—and with far less fanfare.
* * *
That night, after his dad left for work, Raj slipped into his mother’s house. Mom and Aahana were now living on the south side of town in a wide ranch home. The floors and countertops were clean. He noticed a few familiar furnishings and décor. Raj tiptoed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Light spilled onto the linoleum floor, but not on him. He was invisible.
Raj carefully pulled out the glass Tupperware containers and set them down gently on the countertop. He found a fork and stuck it into the creamed spinach. Warming the food was too risky. Raj had never cared for cold food in the past, but tonight it tasted wonderful. He opened a second Tupperware and began eating couscous straight from the container.
The first door he walked past was his mother’s. She’d left it wide open. Further down the hall, Raj came to a closed door with a monkey sign reading, Keep Out. Raj smiled and turned the doorknob gently.
Seeing in the dark was a nice complement to invisibility. Raj stopped several feet from Aahana’s bed. His sister looked like a sleeping angel. He didn’t linger long—didn’t want to be creepy, but the thought of returning to the dump across town stopped him from crossing the threshold.
Raj lowered himself to the plush floor and rested his back against the wall. He sighed.
There was a movement from the bed. A second later, Aahana’s head popped up. Her face wrinkled. “Raj?”
“Don’t freak, okay? I’m invisible.”
Aahana stood on her knees and began looking around the room. “Don’t freak? That’s awesome. You have to teach me. Where are you?”
“Here,” Raj said, appearing a few feet away from Aahana’s bed.
“No way!”
“Shhh.”
“Aahana!” their mother yelled from down the hall.
Raj went invisible right before his mother walked through the door. Aahana, who had been staring at him, quickly moved her eyes to her mother. Raj saw that Mom’s own eyes were narrowed. “Who are you talking to?”
Aahana screwed up her face. “I thought I told you to knock before coming in here.”
“Answer the question, Aahana.”
Aahana rolled her eyes. “I’m practicing for theater tryouts. I’ve decided I want to be an actress.”
Raj had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, especially at the look of horror that crossed his mother’s face. Still, the woman wasn’t entirely gullible. She sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
Raj took a step back.
“You don’t think I could make it in Bollywood? Why not?”
At least that captured Mom’s attention once more. She straightened. “You come from a long line of healers, Aahana. Theater and sports are activities better left to the ungifted– it would be a waste of your talents.”
Aahana’s lip turned over and Raj couldn’t be sure if her pout was more than an act. “I would have thought being a witch meant having fun.”
Their mother’s entire upper body stiffened. “You know I do not like this word.”
“Fun or witch? Fine, healer, whatever,” Aahana said when Mom didn’t answer. “Can you please go now?”
“Aahana . . .”
“I said please!”
After their mother’s footsteps receded, Raj appeared again. He glanced at the crack in the bedroom door and shut it all the way. It wasn’t as though it’d do any good to lock it.
Aahana huffed. “As you can see, nothing’s changed.”
Raj’s lips turned down. “Did you really want to try out for the school play?”
“No, but what if I did? She’s as bad as my friend Chung-Hee’s mother, who says she has to be a doctor when she grows up. I wish I could live with you and Dad.”
“Trust me, you’re better off with Mom.”
Aahana sat back on the heels of her feet. “Raj? Does Dad ever talk about what happened?”
“He doesn’t talk about much of anything. Like you said, some things don’t change.” Raj ran a hand through his hair. “Speaking of which, I better head home. I didn’t mean to startle you—just wanted to see you, you know?” Raj started for the door.
“Wait!” Aahana’s eyes widened. “Don’t go,” she said softly.
“I can’t stay.”
“I know! I have a sleeping bag you can borrow.” Aahana got out of bed and went to her closet.
Raj watched as Aahana rolled the sleeping bag open beside her bed. “You know Mom would have a fit if she found out.”
Aahana grinned. “Easy. I’ll perform a sleeping spell on her.”
“You know she can always tell when a spell’s been cast over her. Anyway, you shouldn’t do that to Mom.”
“Fine then, I can keep my voice down.”
“Can you now?” Raj asked, grinning.
Aahana answered by drawing a finger across her lips.
* * *
All was quiet on Gray’s street Sunday morning. No one had ventured from their cozy homes yet. It was too early. Raj had snuck out of Aahana’s room at six, rolling the sleeping bag into a ball before tiptoeing out. It was seven fifteen now. He’d gotten a black coffee to go at the shack up the road as soon as they opened.
The Perez house was several houses up. Raj didn’t expect any activity for at least another couple hours, but just in case . . .
He flipped through his mother’s copy of The Art of Healing the Misplaced Soul. He’d nabbed it off her bookshelf on his way out. It was a long shot, but worth a try. At seven thirty a woman jogged past, the wires of her earbuds hanging past her neck.
By nine forty, Raj had read halfway through his mother’s book and, as he’d suspected, it contained nothing of use in regards to body transfers. He drank down the last of the coffee, cold now, and looked up in time to see Charlene walking out to her car. Raj tossed the book on the passenger seat.
He had to be careful to follow Charlene at a safe distance, especially as there wasn’t much traffic at this time. It would have be
en a lot easier if he made the car invisible, but that was asking for bad karma. Wouldn’t it be swell if someone rear-ended him?
Raj expected Charlene to make for Ryan Phillips’s house. What he didn’t expect was for Charlene to drive up to the blue brick building where Gatherings were held. Gray had told him Charlene was no longer an active member of the coven.
Raj parked in the farthest corner then proceeded to pace in front of his car.
Shay, if you’re in there, please meet me outside in the parking lot.
Raj watched as more cars arrived and parked in front of the building. As soon as Shay came out the front doors, Raj started toward her.
“Raj? What are you doing here?” They stopped a foot apart. Shay’s lips turned down. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“You have a favor to ask me.”
“Please, just take a quick peek inside her head.”
“Raj . . .”
Raj stepped closer. “She’s already responsible for one girl’s death.”
“Stacey isn’t dead.”
“She’s worse than dead.”
Shay glanced over her shoulder. “I need to get back inside.”
Raj put a hand on her shoulder as Shay turned to go. “You don’t have to tell me anything—just make sure she doesn’t plan on hurting Gray.”
Shay’s face was unreadable. “If Charlene truly wishes another witch harm then it is my duty to report her.” Before Raj could thank her, Shay’s face tightened. “Then again, Gray is supposed to be dead. No one on the council knows she’s alive. On the other hand, Gray didn’t do anything wrong—her mother did.” Shay looked into the distance then glanced at Raj. “I’m not making any promises.”
Raj thanked her even though there might not be reason to. He waited two hours in the parking lot for her reemergence. In that time he finished the rest of The Art of Healing the Misplaced Soul. While the text offered nothing in the way of instruction on body transfers, the information could come in handy should someone ever require his assistance banishing unwanted spirits or performing a full-on exorcism.
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