by Margo Kelly
Nick set the phone on the table. I sat down and pressed the green button.
• • •
I fumbled with the phone and ended the call.
“It was just a wrong number,” I said. My friends stared at me with open mouths.
“Oh no,” I said. “What happened?”
Plug and Nick moved over to the laptop.
“Did you get it?” Kyla asked.
“Yes.” Plug clicked play on yet another video.
I drummed my hands against the table. The screen showed Plug’s kitchen, and my heart raced. Plug clicked the mute button.
“Watch,” he said.
The video showed Nick setting the phone on the table.
“Turn up the volume,” I said.
“Not yet.” Plug let his finger hover over the button.
“What are you hiding from me?” I asked, but they ignored me. The images played out on the computer screen. After I had slumped in the chair, Plug increased the volume.
“Are you alone?” a man’s voice asked from the phone’s speaker.
“No,” I said.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In the kitchen—”
Plug reached for the phone, but Kyla grabbed his hand.
“Is anyone watching you or listening to you?”
“Yes.”
“Repeat these words: You have the wrong number.”
“You have the wrong number.”
“Okay, when I count to three, you will wake and feel more anxious and fearful than you have in days. You will not remember any of our conversation. You will believe the call was simply a wrong number. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“One, two, three.” He disconnected the call.
I fumbled with the phone and ended the call.
“It was just a wrong number,” I said. “Oh no. What happened?”
“That was the hypnotist’s voice.” I knew beyond any doubt, and panic welled up from the pit of my stomach. “Am I still hypnotized?”
“No,” Nick said, “but he left lingering posthypnotic suggestions. He told you to be anxious and fearful.”
“I’m losing myself.” I swallowed hard and shook out my hands. I paced the perimeter of the room. “He has total power over my mind, my feelings, and my body. I can’t fight him. I was angry and determined before the phone call, and now I’m totally weak and scared.”
“He used a trigger to rapidly induce you.”
“How do you know so much?” I asked Nick.
“Because while Plug studies the occult, I study conspiracies,” Nick said. “Governments and secret societies have been brainwashing and hypnotizing people for generations. This isn’t new, Hannah.”
Plug clutched my hands and stopped my pacing. “He recited a rhyming phrase, a couplet, when you answered the phone. When you heard the words, you went right into a trance.”
“What was the phrase?” I asked.
“Can’t tell you,” Plug said. “You could slip under again. We have to research and figure out how to reverse his influence over you.”
“You need to be deprogrammed by a professional,” Nick said.
“We have to go to the police,” Kyla said.
“No!” I had to avoid the police at all costs.
“Hannah—”
“They’ll arrest me,” I said.
“We have proof—”
“We do not,” I said. “We have a video of me letting a man into my room. We have a video of me with the gasoline can. We have a video of me talking on the freaking phone to someone. We can’t prove any of this was John Harrison. Can we even prove he’s Chelsea’s father?” I grabbed Kyla’s research from the table and waved it in the air.
“Hannah, even if it’s not solid enough to take to the police, it’s still enough to prove that you are not schizophrenic.”
I dropped Kyla’s papers back onto the table. I rubbed my eyes and tried to erase the image of Mom when she had to admit to me that Dad killed himself. The worry lines on her face revealed that she feared I’d do the same thing. She needed to know I wasn’t mentally ill like Dad.
Plug set his hand on my shoulder. “Things will get better—”
“Does this look like she’s crazy?” Nick tapped the computer screen. He’d already started another video.
Dark shadows swirled across the ceiling of my bedroom.
“That’s when the book got ripped,” Plug said.
“This is the one you watched?” I asked.
“I watched it Wednesday when you were in the bathroom,” Plug said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When was a good time? And how would it have helped?” Plug asked. I folded my arms, and we watched the recording.
I tossed back and forth in bed while shadows swirled around me. The bedcovers lifted and an unseen force thrust them against the wall. I jerked upright in bed. My eyes were wide open, but they were dark. Not green. A black mist seeped from my parted lips.
The video pixelated and flickered across the screen. We all tensed. But after a few seconds the image stabilized.
I rose and walked so smoothly, it appeared I floated an inch above the carpet. At the desk, my face lowered right into the camera lens of the computer. My eyes were brown. Not my own. Another fine mist of darkness escaped my lips. I hovered and tugged the art book in front of me, bumping the laptop in the process. The camera angle shifted slightly. I clutched several pages of the book and tore them from the binding. I let them fall to the floor. Then I ripped more pages. Again. And again.
When I finished, I drifted like a leaf back over to the edge of the bed. My spine arched backward, and my arms flung out to the sides. All at the same moment, the sheets were stripped from my mattress, dresser drawers flew open, clothes were strewn about the room, and the torn art pages swirled about as though they were in the funnel of a tornado.
A spiral of blackness shot from my mouth. Everything flying about the room fell to the floor.
The image pixelated again, and then the screen went black. The recording ended. We stood in stunned silence. No wonder Plug had neglected to tell me he’d watched this video.
“Well,” Nick said, “that complicates things.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Plug said.
My mouth dropped open, and so did Kyla’s.
“Explain,” Kyla said.
“That video scared the crap out of me the first time I watched it,” Plug said, “especially when a few minutes later, the demon attacked Hannah in the bathroom. This supernatural stuff can be dangerous. It can mess with our minds, mess with our memories, and mess with our realities. I researched it even more and found a connection between hypnotism and demons.”
“And?” Kyla waved her hand in the air.
“Hannah, when the hypnotist unlocked your mind,” Plug said, “he opened it up to his suggestions—his influence—and he also opened it up to the influence of incorporeal beings.”
“Incorporeal?” Nick asked.
“Demons. Ghosts. Spirits,” Kyla said.
“So the black mist I’ve seen isn’t the Angel of Death?” I asked.
“It could be. Sometimes. But not always,” Plug said. “That darkness can be any malevolent spirit.” Plug twisted a ring on his finger. “It seems we are dealing with two problems here: the hypnotist and the spirits.”
“Hey,” Nick said, “at least you’re not schizophrenic.”
My cell phone rang. We spun around and watched it vibrate against the table.
“Don’t!” Plug snagged my wrist.
I yanked away. “Stop making decisions for me.” I had to regain control of my life. Somehow. Even if that only meant deciding whether or not to answer my own phone.
Plug bit down on the stitches in his lip.
I read the caller ID and answered the call. “Manny?”
“Where are you?” he asked.
My eyes watered, and my chin drifted downward, letting tears fal
l to my chest. He’d been an absolute jerk yesterday, but I would never deliberately harm his family.
“I’ve been so worried,” I said.
Plug snatched a piece of paper and scribbled:
Don’t tell him where we are!
I faced the wall. “Manny, are you and your family okay?”
“We’re fine,” he said, “but Hannah, the police think you set fire to our house—”
“I would never.” But my shoes were filthy, and I reeked of gasoline.
“Tell me where you are,” he said.
“I thought you never wanted to see me again,” I said and replayed yesterday’s fight in my mind. I kicked some of the dried mud from the edge of my shoe. It crumbled onto the concrete. “Are you still there?” I asked.
“Yes,” Manny said. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” His tone of voice had changed.
“Really?” I asked, confused. I didn’t know who to believe or trust anymore. I couldn’t even trust my own instincts. But I needed Manny to understand what had happened, that I wasn’t crazy.
“Manny, that hypnotist from the fair has been behind all of this.”
“Hannah, I need to know where you are.”
“Did you hear me?” I asked.
“Yes. I want to help you, but I need to know where you are first,” he said.
“I’m with—”
Plug clutched my shoulder and spun me around. “Don’t tell him.”
“Who are you with?” Manny asked.
“I’m trying to help you,” Plug said.
What was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to trust? I’d made so many mistakes already this week. I just wanted to make amends for all of it.
“I’m sorry,” I said and stared straight at Plug. I meant it for both him and Manny. I did not want to rekindle anything with Manny after the way he’d treated me yesterday, but I needed to see him for myself to know that he was unharmed in the fire. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else being hurt because of me.
“I’m at the Eclectic Tattoo Gallery, downtown,” I said.
Plug punched the wall and bloodied his knuckles. Kyla scooped up her papers from the table and thrust them into her bag. Nick slammed the laptop shut.
“I’m coming over,” Manny said. “Wait for me.”
“I’ll be here, but come to the back alley. I’ll wait outside for you,” I said.
“I’ll get there as fast as I can,” Manny said and disconnected.
I shoved the phone into my pocket.
“What were you thinking?” Kyla yelled at me. “We’re trying to help you, and you told Manny where we are.”
“I need to see he’s okay.” My eyes burned, and more tears spilled.
“Couldn’t you tell he was okay from the phone call?” Nick asked.
“I need to see him in person and tell him what’s happened,” I said.
Nick tugged his knit cap onto his head and tucked the laptop under his arm.
“Wait, there are still more videos to watch,” I said.
“I’ll make backup files,” Nick said and headed out.
“Hannah, the police are with Manny,” Kyla said. “They probably instructed his every word.” She closed the space between us, and the scorn in her eyes made me wince. “You’re the one who didn’t want to go to the police with the information we have. And you’re right. We don’t have any real proof of anything, but they have your prints on the gas can, the sweatshirt in your closet, an eyewitness, and now, they’re coming here to arrest you. Manny’s leading the way.” She hoisted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and followed Nick toward the back.
“He wouldn’t do that,” I said and wiped away my tears.
“He already has,” Nick shouted back to us and kept walking.
“You can leave,” I said, “but I’m waiting for Manny.”
Kyla turned back toward us. “Plug, we’ll be at my house if you want to join us.”
Plug rubbed his jaw and grimaced.
“Wait!” I hollered after Nick. “We need to show Manny the videos.”
“Let Nick take it to make backup files,” Plug said.
“Manny wouldn’t lie to me,” I said.
“If the police convinced him you started the fire,” Plug said, “or if your mom convinced him you’re schizophrenic, he would think he’s helping you by leading the police here.” He shrugged and moved to the kitchen sink. He rinsed the blood from his knuckles and dried his hands on a clean towel. I leaned against the wall and waited for him.
“I will never understand why you want to be with Manny,” Plug said. “What has he done to help you through this?”
“I don’t want to be with him,” I said.
“Really?” Plug faced me. “Because you keep turning back to him.”
My mind worked over the details of the past week as I searched for an answer. Manny and I kissed for the first time at the fair. Jordan died. Lily just regained consciousness. Demons stalked me. Plug and I kissed. And the hypnotist had manipulated me. I recalled how Manny said in the hospital that he didn’t want us to change and how he said at his house that I was confused and needed help. But Manny hadn’t helped me at all.
I had to save myself from this mess I’d fallen into.
“After they arrest you,” Plug said, “they’ll check you into a psychiatric facility for mandatory evaluation. They’ll medicate you and keep you there. I won’t be able to help you.”
Plug and I stood on opposite sides of the kitchen and stared at each other.
After a minute of silence, Plug moved toward the back door and flipped off lights as he went. I didn’t want to be left in the dark, so I kept right on his heels.
“What do you suggest we do?” I asked.
“Leave before he gets here.”
“No. I need to explain to him what’s been going on.”
We stepped out into the alley, and Plug locked the back door to the studio’s warehouse. He leaned against the El Camino, hooked his thumbs into his jeans, and waited.
Manny wasn’t bringing the cops. I was certain. He wanted to see I was okay.
An engine revved, and I recognized Manny’s family SUV when it turned into the alley. Plug reached for my fingers, but I pulled away. I didn’t want Manny to see Plug touching me. I didn’t want to be the cause of another fight. Manny parked, but he remained seated and lowered his head. I walked toward him, and he shut off the engine. I opened his door, and he gazed at me. His cheek was bandaged, and his right hand was wrapped in gauze.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes.”
He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t his usual polo shirt. Instead, it was an oversized dark blue police department T-shirt. He adjusted a loose edge of cotton gauze on his wrist, and then he stepped out of the SUV.
“Is your chest still taped?” I reached out to him, but he backed away from me. “Are your ribs worse?”
“No,” he said and blushed. I’d never seen him lie before, but I knew how he acted when he spoke the truth, and this wasn’t it. Manny glanced down the alleyway and ripped a piece of gauze bandaging from his wrist.
“Hannah, did you set fire to my house?” Manny let the white piece of cotton fall to the asphalt.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“No. It’s not,” Manny said. “You either did or didn’t. Just tell me.”
I opened my mouth, but I struggled to start my explanation.
“Hannah,” Manny said, “why are you even here?”
Plug stepped next to me. “Why are you here?” Plug asked Manny.
Manny thrust a finger toward Plug’s face, but Plug stood his ground.
“Back off, Eugene,” Manny said. “I came to talk to Hannah.” Plug narrowed his eyes at Manny. Manny looked away first and jerked his head toward me. “He’s ruined you, Hannah. You reek, as if you haven’t showered in days. Plus, you smell like smoke and gasoline. I bet Eugene convinced you to start it—”
“H
e hasn’t done anything to me. He’s tried to help—”
“No, Hannah. He hasn’t. Your mom has tried to help you. Your doctor wants to help you. You need to let them help you—”
“We have evidence,” I said, “that shows the hypnotist from the fair has been behind everything.”
“You think the hypnotist set fire to my house?” Manny choked out an awkward laugh. “The police say they have evidence against you. They say you started the fire.” He raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Hannah, do you have any idea how terrifying it was to have all the smoke detectors blaring and know that the house was on fire?”
Yes, I did know, but when it happened to me, it was apparently all in my mind. I suffered no real injuries. I had no bandages like Manny had now. But whatever I did to the Santos house, it was the result of a posthypnotic suggestion. I had to make Manny understand that.
“It was the hypnotist,” I said and reached for Manny, but he pulled away. “He’s Chelsea’s father, and she’s taunted me all week—”
“You’re losing it, Hannah,” Manny said. “Can’t you hear how ridiculous you sound? Chelsea’s your friend, and she didn’t even know that hypnotist at the fair. Eugene is trying to turn you against me and isolate you.”
“Hannah, that’s crap.” Plug set his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve tried to help you. I love you.”
“You can’t love her,” Manny said.
“I love her,” Plug said, “and unlike you, I’ve stood by her when she needed it most.”
“I’m here now.” Manny kicked a pebble on the ground, and then he focused on me. “And I’ve loved you longer.” Tears welled in Manny’s eyes. “Let us get you the help you need.”
“Us?” Plug asked.
I checked up and down the alley to see if anyone else was there.
“Who’s us?” Plug asked again. Then he lunged forward and seized Manny’s T-shirt. Plug yanked it up and exposed black wires and a small black box taped to Manny’s waist.
“Why would you be wearing a wire?” I asked.
“You set fire to my house!” Manny yelled. “The police said your recorded confession plus Chelsea’s testimony—”
“Chelsea was the eyewitness?” I asked.
Plug shoved Manny hard. He stumbled backward and clutched his ribs but then regained his footing. He charged forward and tackled Plug to the ground. Plug struck Manny in the throat with his right hand and smashed his left elbow into Manny’s face. Plug wrenched him sideways and rolled on top. Manny poked his fingers into Plug’s swollen eye, but Plug batted his arm away. Then Plug landed punches over and over again to Manny’s face. Plug held nothing back this time. A siren screamed at the end of the alley behind Manny’s SUV.