“It doesn’t smell much when it’s in the open,” I said.
“No. But there’s a whiff of something.” He made a face. “It smells like death.”
“Okay. I definitely don’t want to think about death on my bedroom window.”
“You want me to wash it off?”
“You do windows?”
My mom kept cleaning supplies under the sink in my bathroom, a blatant hint that I usually ignored. Justin and I discovered that soap and water only smeared the soot around, and even Pine-Sol didn’t cut it. I ran downstairs and got some vinegar (and some strange looks from the parents) but that didn’t improve matters, either. The glass was now a mass of black smears and streaks. Adding water was making the smell stronger, too, and the stink of pine-scented rotting garbage turned my stomach.
“Just close the window,” I said. “We’re only making it worse.”
“Hold on.” Justin hung out of the casement, trying to talk while holding his breath. Not an easy thing to do. “I want to try one more thing. Bring my backpack and some fresh water.”
His satchel weighed almost as much as mine did. I brought it over, then dumped the old water and refilled the bucket in the tub.
When I returned with the pail, Justin threw a handful of salt into the water, soaked a clean rag in the solution, then wiped it over the grimy mess on the glass. In a few passes, the pane shone like a Windex commercial.
“Wow.” I stared, amazed. It had worked like, well, magic. “We should market that. For all your home exorcism needs.”
“Something like that.” He swung his legs out; the roof jutted below. By balancing carefully Justin was able to clean the whole window, and give the other two a rinse for good measure.
“What else have you got in here?” I poked through his bag. No wonder it weighed a ton. In addition to the pound of salt, he had a package of nails, a couple of books, and half a forest of leaves and twigs. “What is all this stuff?”
He leaned in the window, setting the bucket carefully on the floor. I thought the water would stink to high heaven, but there was no odor at all. “Since we don’t know what tradition the … whatever … comes from, I’m using a scattershot approach. Give me the nails.”
I knew that one. Iron kept away fairies and bad luck in Celtic traditions, and like a lot of things had been adapted into Western/Christian superstition: nails equals crucifixion equals Christ’s protection.
“What’re these twigs?” They were covered with bright red berries. Kind of pretty, really.
“Rowan.” His voice drifted in while he scattered the nails on the ledge above the window.
“Where did you get rowan twigs? Witch Depot?”
“There’s a New Age herb shop near campus. Would you believe the hardest thing to find was the iron nails? They’re all nickel alloy now.”
“How inconvenient.” I got out of the way as he climbed back in the window. He was filthy from all the window washing. We spread a thin line of salt and placed a rowan twig on every sill, then closed those curtains and went to give the study window a similar treatment.
The whole operation didn’t seem nearly as silly as it should have. Maybe it was the way the saltwater had cleared the window and nothing else had. Maybe my idea of what was “normal” had taken a radical left turn.
I had just closed the window when I heard footsteps on the stairs. We exchanged panicked looks, but didn’t have time to do anything other than hide the nails (Justin) and the salt (me) before Dad’s head appeared at the landing.
“What the blazes are you two doing?” he demanded.
“It’s a … chemistry experiment,” I said, not guiltily at all. “Justin is helping me with a chemistry experiment.”
Dad continued up, giving us the Paternal Eye. Justin actually squirmed. I think if we’d actually been doing anything illicit he might have thrown himself at my father’s feet, begging his forgiveness.
As it was, when Dad held out his hand, Justin meekly gave over the package of iron nails. With resigned chagrin, I took the canister of salt from behind my back.
“Something I should know about?”
I glanced at my partner in crime. He gave a little shrug of his eyebrow as if to say it was up to me. Gran would believe us. Heck, Gran would help. Mom would wig out on so many levels, but Dad was a wild card.
“Actually,” I began, choosing my truths carefully. “It’s Justin’s experiment with different protection superstitions, and since I’m, you know, sensitive, we’re going to see if I feel more, um, protected.”
The Paternal Eye pinned me with suspicion. “You know your mother would freak out if she knew about this.”
Parents should not say “freak out.” But I’d just been thinking that exact thing, so I simply answered, “Yes, sir.”
Dad handed the nails back to Justin. “Don’t worry about the doors downstairs. My mother did them when we moved in, and checks them every year.” See. I was right about Gran, too. I had no trouble picturing her going around with a ladder, sprinkling iron nails over all the door frames.
“I’m taking your mom out to dinner.” Dad smoothed his tie. “I convinced her that Justin is trustworthy, but she’s not so sure about you.”
“We’re just about done, Dr. Quinn.” Justin started gathering up his things.
“Right. Good to see you, Justin. We’ll be home in a couple of hours, Mags.”
“Don’t hurry on my account.”
Just as he disappeared, my phone rang. Justin gestured for me to go ahead and answer. As soon as I flipped it open, I heard Lisa’s unhappy voice. “Are you coming to this thing or not?”
“The play?” I reordered my thoughts. I had not forgotten about it; I just hadn’t figured out how I was going to get there, being as I was grounded and all.
“Yes, the play. I thought you were coming. I bought you a ticket. I’m out sixteen bucks here.”
“I got kind of held up.” Justin looked at me curiously. I made a face, not sure what it was supposed to convey beyond a general helplessness.
“Well, the damned thing is about to start. If you’re not coming, then I’m not about to endure a lot of singing about chicks and ducks. Not to mention the drama triplets trying to steal Suzie Miller’s limelight.”
“The Jessicas are there?”
“And their Jock counterparts. The full unholy bunch. The Voiceless One is wearing sackcloth and ashes and the others are all telling her how selfless she is to be here to support the rest of the cast. I may hurl.”
“Hang on, Lisa.” I put the phone against my shirt while I asked Justin, “Can you drive me to the school?”
“Uh … I thought you were, um … you know.”
“Yes. But I have a bad feeling.”
My unease must have been obvious. I couldn’t put into words the tight knot in my gut and my certainty that something was going to happen. I was more sure than ever that this was tied to Jessica Prime, maybe all the Jessicas together. If I sat in my room with this dread clawing around my insides, if I could do something and didn’t, then all my fears about Nana and Pop, about Karen’s accident would be real.
Justin hesitated a moment more, then nodded. “All right.”
I told Lisa, “Leave the ticket for me in the front. If they won’t let me in after the show starts, I’ll see you at intermission.”
“You’d better,” she answered. “Do not make me suffer this alone, Magdalena Quinn.”
“I’m on my way.”
I grabbed some clean clothes from the closet and went into the bathroom to change. I came out brushing my hair, thrust my feet into a pair of ballet flats, and searched for a purse.
When I found it, Justin gave me a handful of stuff. There were a few sprigs of the rowan, a couple of nails, and a Ziploc baggie full of salt. “This won’t help against your mother,” he warned me, “so I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I tucked them in my handbag, smoothed my skirt, and nodded. “It’ll be all right,” I said, with a
certainty I didn’t quite feel.
14
murphy’s Law for Ghostbusting must go like this: If you risk parental wrath by breaking your grounding and several speed limits to get to somewhere you are certain will be a hotbed of supernatural activity, then suffer through two hours of songs about ducks, not to mention a choreographed hoedown, assuredly nothing will happen.
“I can’t believe it.” I stood on the school’s front steps where the “after-theatre” crowd milled peacefully, laughing and congratulating the cast.
“I know. I thought it would suck even worse.” Lisa stood beside me, deeply inhaling the late April air, cooler now that the sun had gone down. “Though I think some of the laughs were unintentional. Like when Joe Cowboy dropped his partner. Or Stanley Dozer, looking like a seven-foot-tall mutant deer in the headlights when that scenery fell over.” She grinned at the memory.
“No falling chandelier,” I mused. “No plummeting sandbags. Nothing burst into flames.”
“Yeah. I’m disappointed, too.” We paused to watch Thespica swan over to Suzie Miller and graciously give her whispered congratulations. Suzie surprised us by throwing her arms around Thespica in an ingenuous hug. The Prima Donna’s expression of horror and outrage sent Lisa and I into whoops of laughter.
“Hey.”
I turned at the familiar monosyllable, still grinning at the Drama Queen’s expense. “Hey, Brian.”
Brian returned my instinctive smile with a broad one of his own. “Wow!” He put his hand over his heart, reeling back. “She actually smiles. I never thought I’d see it.”
“Stranger things have happened lately.” I could feel Lisa beside me, practically vibrating with displeasure. Had I always noticed those things, and never thought about it before? “Brian, this is my friend Lisa. Lisa, this is …”
“I know who he is.”
Her tone could cut glass. “Geez, Lisa,” I murmured.
Brian pretended not to notice. Maybe that was his conditioned response to unpleasantness. It explained why he did nothing when his friends acted like assholes, but then apologized for them later. Brian did not Make Waves.
“Good luck with the valedictorian thing,” he told Lisa sincerely. “I saw you’re the front-runner.”
“By a hundredth of a point. Thanks for reminding me.” She turned to me, arms crossed tightly. “I’m going to talk to Emily. Come see me if you still need a ride.”
She stalked off before I could say anything, which was probably just as well. Lisa took a certain pride in being a bitch and wouldn’t appreciate me calling her on it.
“You look different tonight.” Brian studied me in an exaggerated way. “I know what it is! No camera.”
“It wouldn’t fit in here.” I patted my vintage beaded purse, hanging from its thin satin strap.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis. He looked nice, too. A lot of the kids were in jeans, but some had at least pretended it was a real theatrical experience, falling scenery aside.
“Listen. I was wondering if you might like to go out some time.”
Maybe I’m not psychic after all, because I totally did not see that coming. “What, you mean on a date?”
He’d been looking at the tops of his shoes, but now he peered up at me with a wry smile that made his eyes seem incredibly blue. No, it didn’t make sense.
“Yeah. On a date.”
God, I was speechless. A Jock—a HenchBiff, no less—had just asked me out. I was stunned, outraged, appalled, and, on some level, illogically delighted because, well, I mentioned the hotness, right?
“That’s … wow … um.”
He ducked his head to search my face, his smile adorably uncertain. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“That’s an ‘I can’t believe my ears.’ ”
A shrill voice shattered the Kodak moment. There was nothing wrong with Jess Minor’s vocal cords, even if she was no match for her leader’s cheer-honed stridency. “Brian! What’s taking so long?”
Translation: What are you doing talking to that lower life form?
I folded my arms, my posture going defensive before I could check the movement.
“I’ll be over in a minute, Jess.” Brian was a lot nicer than I would have been, were I called to heel that way.
“Go on,” I said. “You don’t want to rock the boat.”
“Bri-an.” Minor ramped up to a major fit of pique. “We’re all about to leave. We’re going to the Underground. Right now.”
“Ride with Jeff. I’ll meet you guys there.” He turned back to me with a sheepish smile. “I don’t suppose you want to go to the Underground.”
“I’d rather poke a sharp stick in my eye.” The Underground was an eighteen-and-over club that catered mostly to the college crowd. I’d love to go, someday, but not with the Maleficent Six.
“What about next week? Come to my baseball game, and we’ll go somewhere after.”
“Sports give me hives.”
“Then don’t come to the game, and we’ll go somewhere after.”
I was playing with my cross and made myself stop, tucking my hair behind my ear instead, trading one fidget for another. “Look, Brian …”
“What are you doing, Kirkpatrick?” Brandon stood at the bottom of the steps, but still managed to loom somehow. “We’re ready to go.”
“I told Jess to go on ahead.”
The alpha dog raked his eyes over me, then addressed his pack mate. “Jess will be real disappointed if you don’t come with us.”
“She’ll live.”
“Yeah, but I’ll have to listen to her whine. So stop wasting time and let’s go.”
I looked Brian in the eye. “Go on with your friends. I’ll see you around.” I walked away, and he didn’t stop me. I didn’t really expect him to.
“Geez, Kirkpatrick.” Biff didn’t bother to lower his voice as Brian went down the steps to join him. “What are you doing? Some kind of science experiment?”
When I reached Lisa she glanced at me without sympathy. But she didn’t say “I told you so,” either. I guess that’s why she’s my friend. She just wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Ready to go, kiddo?”
“Yeah.” I figured my mom would have killed me by Monday anyway.
We said good-bye to Emily, congratulations to Suzie, and headed for the parking lot.
“What’s with Dozer stalking Suzie Miller?” I asked Lisa. With black-clad Stanley hovering around after the show, I recognized her as the girl I’d seen him with backstage.
“Even dweebs can have crushes,” she said.
I didn’t see a need to mention how quickly his affections had shifted after he’d asked me to the prom. “I wonder if she’ll give him the time of day now that she’s a superstar.”
Lisa snorted. “Suzie is a real-life ingenue. If she liked him before, she won’t cut him off. And I say ‘if’ because … well, Stanley Dozer.”
The butt numbing boredom of the play and the silliness of Thespica’s drama afterward had lulled me into complacency, but my Spidey Sense clawed the chalkboard of my nerves the moment we reached Lisa’s compact Honda. Directly across from it, sharing the same island of halogen, were the Jocks and Jessicas. Biff opened the door of his Blazer for Jessica Prime, but rather than climb in she stopped to watch me with eyes full of venom.
Plenty of Evil there, but that wasn’t what had fired the warning shot. Next to the Blazer was Jeff Espinoza’s vintage Mustang, parked on the edge of the lamplight, not quite pristine, but lavishly loved.
There was a shadow within the shadow of the car. It squatted, waiting with an inanimate patience until I looked at it, and then it stirred, like smoke in darkness.
“Ow!” Lisa yelped. I’d grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise. “What’s your problem?”
Brandon and all three Jessicas were climbing into his SUV. Jeff and Brian stood by the Mustang, discussing whether to stop and get something to eat before going to the club. I didn’t realize I had changed direction un
til I heard my own voice.
“Brian!”
His head came up. Beneath the car, the darkness curled in on itself as if gathering to strike. My stride faltered as I felt its attention on me. Just like in my dream, I knew it saw me, even though it had no eyes. I couldn’t make myself go any nearer, and stopped in the middle of the driveway.
Brian started toward me, his expression curious, but pleased. “What’s up?”
“Don’t …” My throat closed on the warning, choked by self-preservation. I couldn’t explain my knowledge, my Sight. If I warned him, everyone would know I was a freak.
Lisa called my name from beside her own car. “Maggie! What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t get in the car,” I whispered, reaching for his arm as if I could hold him back from danger.
“What?” He leaned closer. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Don’t ride in the Mustang. Ride with Brandon.”
Nails raked my wrist as someone snatched my hand from Brian’s sleeve. I swallowed my heart when I realized it was only Jess Minor. Her face twisted with jealous fury, but it was nothing compared to what agglomerated in the dark.
“Don’t you ever give up?” Her voice was reedy and thin, bamboo under the fingernails, and her complexion was flushed and blotchy in the streetlamp. “On what planet would one of us want anything to do with someone like you?”
Brian had stared at me with blank confusion. Now his gaze turned to Jess as if she were a space creature. Before he could say anything, though, Lisa was in Minor’s face.
“Don’t talk to her like that.”
“Back off, egghead. Take your tramp friend and get out of here.”
“Tramp!” I squawked in outrage.
Lisa pushed Jess’s pointing finger aside. “Put that away before I break it, Michaels.”
“Calm down, Jess—” Brian went unheeded as Brandon came up, Jeff lumbering behind.
“Hey! A catfight!”
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