I offered Jesse a hand and pulled him to his feet. He didn’t cringe as I’d expected.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“It did, but it doesn’t now,” he admitted.
But neither of us would admit that the white powder was the likely culprit for the disappearance of the pain, not to mention the purple flames.
“We’d better get you inside and have Mrs. Riley take a look at those burns and scrapes,” McGarrett said.
“Sure thing,” Jesse said as I put his arm over my shoulder and guided him toward the inn.
There was no sign of Ike as we walked into the inn, and Mrs. Riley hadn’t heard him come in.
In the infirmary on the second floor, Mrs. Riley looked over all of Jesse’s wounds. She put some salve on them, wrapped them, and sent us downstairs where she’d made dinner. We waited for Ike, but he didn’t show, so Mr. Riley said a prayer and we ate without him.
After dinner, we went to the workshop. I’d be flying solo tonight.
“What happened?” I asked Jesse.
He frowned. “I can’t remember.”
“I mean, what were you doing? What was it that you had?”
“I don’t even remember.”
McGarrett cut in. “That was a new agent Ike was working on. Something to—”
The phone rang.
McGarrett picked it up and listened. “Yes,” he replied. “This is he. Oh, I see. Thanks for letting me know.”
Mr. Riley hung up the phone. “That was Chief Rutledge. There’s been a break in.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Hoobler’s Jewelers.”
“Huh?” Jesse said.
“Why does that matter to us?” I asked.
“Because, while the cameras are blank, several strands of hair were found caught on the broken glass. Animal hair, to be precise.”
I nodded. “The HowlSage.”
“Such is my suspicion,” McGarrett said. “Let’s go, we need to get a sample. Jesse, I want you to stay here this time. Hold down the fort.”
Jesse didn’t argue. “No problem.”
A police line had been set up around the front and sides of the building. The breached window was in the alley. I followed McGarrett under the police tape, where we found Chief Rutledge talking to a detective.
“McGarrett,” the chief said with a nod. “I thought you might be interested in this.”
Mr. Riley nodded back. “Sure. What you got?”
Chief Rutledge walked us over to the window, and with gloved hands picked up a piece of glass.
The shard of opaque material was strewn with strands of brown hair or fur. The hair was too thick and dark to belong to a human.
The detective handed McGarrett a pair of gloves. Mr. Riley slid them on and the police chief handed over the shard.
“There’s hair all over the glass, as well as inside,” the detective said. “Too much for a human. It had to be animal. But we’re not sure why. Or how.”
“Was anything taken?” Mr. Riley asked.
I watched as he looked over the shard and pulled a few strands of fur away from the glass.
“Yes, in fact. Mr. Hoobler has already taken inventory and here is what’s missing,” the detective said, handing over a list with several orange highlighter marks across it.
I read the document from beside McGarrett. There were several descriptions as well as some sort of item number listed beside each one. But what caught my attention was the handwritten notes next to all the highlighted items. In most cases the jewels had been removed and the gold or platinum casings left behind.
“We think this must be a well-planned setup. Someone is trying to pin this on an animal perhaps,” the detective said. “But how could anyone think we’d believe an animal could tear apart the jewelry and selectively remove the gems? Especially when taking into account that only certain types of jewels were stolen.”
“What types?” Mr. Riley asked.
“Rubies, white diamonds, and opals,” the detective said.
“It’s rather peculiar. Not like anything I’ve seen before. That’s why I called you,” the police chief said.
McGarrett nodded. “Peculiar indeed.”
Chapter Ten
October 11th—Wednesday
My eyes shot open. I rolled hard to my left and off the far side of my bed, crouching in my boxers, ready for action. I’d even swept the dagger off of my night stand to oppose the creature.
Ike smiled at me and cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t realize that you’re always ready to fight.”
I exhaled an angry breath. “Ike! What are you doing?” The red glowing digits on the clock displayed five a.m.
“Yes, but,” he started. “I have something very special to show you. I just finished it.”
“Just? You’ve been up all night?”
“Not quite; I took three forty-five minute naps,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh.”
“Are you ready?” he asked, eyes bright with excitement.
“Sure, I guess,” I crawled back into my bed and pulled my covers back over me. “Go on, but then I’m going back to sleep.”
Ike nodded and pulled out a small silver canister. “This is what you sort of saw last night. But it wasn’t ready then. It wasn’t in a proper container.”
“You mean the purple fire and explosion that nearly killed Jesse?”
Ike frowned. “You could look at it that way, but he shouldn’t have even been messing around with it. It was clearly labeled ‘do not touch.’”
“You know Jesse, warnings don’t do much to deter him.”
“I guess,” Ike said, but then continued with his display. “All right, here we go.” He held the canister out in front of him.
I used my index finger to shift the invention away from over my bed. He smiled and swiveled a small silver cover off the top of the container.
A slithering stream of purple smoke lifted up from the canister in a long wispy chain. It curled upward a few feet and then started to spread out. Ike shifted his other hand to the left. The smoke followed the movement of his hand, which I then noticed was covered in a metallic glove. He shifted his gloved hand back the other way and the smoke moved again.
“Whoa!” I said. “That’s cool.”
“You want to try?”
“Sure, but…but what’s the point?” I asked. I knew there must be one, but I certainly couldn’t figure out what the purple smoke was supposed to do.
Ike started to remove his glove. “Well, it’s still in the test phase. But I think this will help with our gray mist problem. You know, that weird stuff that makes the HowlSage impervious to our usual forms of attack.”
I nodded and took the glove. The purple smoke had continued to slowly sneak from the canister, creating a large cloud over my bed. It shifted left as the glove was transferred to me.
I jerked my now-gloved hand right, then left, then right again. Each time the smoke shifted directions. It didn’t seem to go faster in relation to my hand movement, only directionally. I moved my hand up, it followed. I moved my hand down.
Ike reached out and grabbed my wrist, moving my hand back up. “No, not yet. Keep the smoke away from fabric for now.”
I looked at him peculiarly. “So what is this stuff?”
“I’ve mixed together some of the main weapons used to kill demons. Clearly the gray mist is powerful, so it’s not one of the lower tier demons.”
“What did you use?” I asked, still watching the purple smoke follow my every move.”
“It’s one part garlic powder, one part silver sulfate, one part salt or sodium chloride, one part magnesium, and one part holy water. While it won’t kill a demon in physical from, like the HowlSage, my theory is that the gaseous forms of these demon-killing methods, put in contact with whatever type of demon the gray mist is, will kill it or vaporize it.”
“Wow, that sounds really…ingenious.”
Ike was beaming. “Thanks.�
�
“OK,” I said. “So, how do we get it back into the container?”
“Simple.” Ike reached under the bottom of the canister and tapped something. “There’s a button under here.”
I felt the glove on my hand lose something. I wasn’t sure what, but something seemed to leave its metallic fabric. The smoke began to suck back into the canister. I couldn’t hear anything, but something was pulling the purple cloud back into its container.
Ike smiled as the room cleared. Clearly this invention was something he was proud of, something he had worked really hard on.
I counted on my fingers. It’d only been six days since we learned about the gray mist, and yet Ike appeared to have already created something he thought would help combat it. And it seemed to work. Even Jesse would have to be impressed with that. Maybe all the tension between them, the fighting, would stop, or at least they could come to terms.
The smoke was nearly back in when the canister gave off a high pitched whine. It started to rattle, and then shake, and then it shot out of Ike’s hand like a rocket.
We both watched as it flew up, curved over Ike’s head and right toward my closet. It disappeared into the darkness of the clothing repository and…
Crack! Boom!
A flash of purple lit the room, followed by purple flames and black putrid smoke dispatching from my closet.
Once again, I rolled from the bed and prepared to evacuate, but apparently Ike had come prepared. Because he darted from my room, but returned a microsecond later with two bags of the white powder he’d used the day before.
He started throwing handfuls at the fire, and within a moment the flames died down and the smoke stopped billowing from my closet.
I walked over to observe the damage and stepped in front of Ike.
Total destruction lay before me. There was nothing but blackened walls and the remnants of a single hanger melted to the metal pole that stretched across the closet. All of my white and black shirts had gone up in smoke.
I turned and looked the few inches down at Ike. I felt the temperature in my face rising, my palms were sweating. My muscles began to twinge as blood and adrenaline coursed through them.
Ike had about two seconds to run from the room, before I’d unleash my fists on him. He must have known it, because he backed away and ran.
I took several breaths, trying to regain some vestige of calmness. I’d nearly gotten there when I realized I was only wearing boxers and every shirt I owned had been in that closet.
I was through the door in pursuit of Ike without a second thought.
“Where’d you go, you little—?” I caught myself. I heard the elevator door slide shut. He’d escaped.
Jesse stepped out of his room. “What’s all the commotion?” he asked.
I groaned. “Ike just burned all of my shirts.”
A smile slipped across Jesse’s face and he started to laugh.
“Come on, it’s not funny. What am I going to wear?”
“You’re right, it’s not funny. Not if you had to go to school with that scrawny body exposed.” He laughed harder. “I’ll let you borrow a shirt.”
I followed Jesse in, knowing that I likely would hear about this loan every day for the foreseeable future. He tossed me a bluish shirt with some weird design on it.
“Thanks,” I said.
“It’s about time you started dressing with a little more style,” Jesse said.
I supposed it was true; Jesse certainly did have a knack for staying with the most current trend, from clothes to music to the latest buzz words. I’d thought the word “stellar” had had its day, but he used it a few times, and sure enough I heard it on at least two television shows within a week of Jesse using it. It was sort of weird how in style someone could be, but appear to not put any effort in doing so.
At breakfast Mrs. Riley mentioned that Ike was feeling sick and would be staying home for the day. Her expression told me there was more to it, but she didn’t expound. Instead, she provided me a sack lunch and sent me on my way.
I figured that with everything that had happened over the last few days, all of Ike’s invention mishaps, and with mine and Jesse’s ill treatment of him, he was probably hurt and embarrassed. But with all of my shirts destroyed and several near-death experiences still fresh in mind, I wasn’t ready to console him.
I got the once over from several different girls in the first minute of entering the school; a few looked twice. All that had changed was the shirt I wore. I hadn’t changed my shaggy hairstyle, or put any cologne on. Just a different shirt.
It was weird how style could change people’s interest in you. In or out, for that matter.
The morning passed slowly otherwise, and at lunch I sat alone eating my lunch. A ham and Swiss sandwich, red grapes, pretzels, and carrots. The perfect sack lunch in my opinion.
A hand brushing through my hair caught me off guard. I turned to look and nearly fell out of my seat.
It was her.
“Hey, do you mind if I sit down?” she asked.
The lump in my throat stopped me from speaking. Instead, I jerked my head left and right, then, realizing I’d nonverbally said “no,” I nodded.
She smiled at me as if I was a strange curiosity. I nodded again and forced out a single word, “Yes.”
She giggled and sat. She had long brown hair, those blue-gray eyes I’d seen, and yes, both were blue-gray in color. She wore light blue skinny jeans, with a few factory-created worn spots, ballet flats, a pink and lime green striped shirt, with an unzipped purple hoodie overtop. She was even more amazing than I’d realized before.
I hadn’t truly processed the infatuation I had with her until that moment. What had been driving my desire to meet her all this time? Clearly, it’d been her looks.
“So, what’s your name?” she asked.
“Tay—Taylor,” I bumbled out my name like a two-year-old learning how to speak.
She smiled and waited as if I should get the lump out of my throat. I didn’t.
“Well, my name is Melanie, but you can call me Mel,” she said.
“Hi, Mel,” I forced out. Was that seriously the best I could do? I’d been waiting more than a week for this chance, and I was quickly biffing it.
“Hi, Taylor,” she countered, purposely sounding as awkward as I had. “Tell me, why’d you switch it up?”
“Huh?”
“The shirt?” She looked me over. “It’s blue today. I’ve never seen you in anything but white.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. I felt myself smile; she had noticed me before.
“Well, I like the variety. You look good in blue. Any reason for the change?”
I laughed—well, my voice sort of squeaked out a giggle. Again, not my best moment.
“It’s quite the story.”
She started to make herself comfortable as if she was ready to listen. She pulled a sandwich and a pack of Oreos from a gray and pink argyle backpack. “Go ahead.” She twisted the lid off a thermos and dipped an Oreo into it.
Milk and Oreos.
She took a bite and I involuntarily licked my lips. For the Oreos of course.
“So—well—you see, I’ve got this friend. Well, acquaintance.” I felt a small sting in my heart as I said that, like I was betraying my best friend, which I suppose I was. “And he invents things.”
“Yeah?” she said.
“Well, this morning he brought this canister thing into my room.” I stopped. Wait, I couldn’t tell her about this. First off, she’d never understand. Second, I wasn’t supposed to share this sort of stuff with anyone from the outside, especially not someone I’d just learned the name of a few minutes prior. “You know it’s really not that great a story,” I said.
She smiled and took another bite from her Oreo. “OK, but why’d you swap your shirt?”
I tried to think of a good answer that wouldn’t draw any more suspicion.
“Well my regular shirts weren’t available at the mo
ment. So I borrowed this from my cousin.”
“Cousin? Does he go here?” she asked.
“Oh, no, he’s out of school. But he’s staying with us,” I said.
“That’s cool. So, where’s that little guy who is normally around?” she asked.
“Sick. He’s the inventor I mentioned.”
“I see.”
“And where’s your guy?” I asked abruptly and a bit more forcibly then I’d intended.
She laughed. “Oh he isn’t ‘my’ guy,” she said using her fingers to make quote marks.
My heart leapt. A sliver of hope glowed before me.
“Naw, sometimes it feels like we’re together, but not officially,” Mel explained.
I felt my heart sink back into my feet. “Ah.”
She smirked. “Oh, it’s nothing like that.” Her hand slipped over mine.
What was happening? Was I dreaming?
“No, he isn’t my type.” She looked into my eyes with those mesmerizing blue-gray orbs. I felt a warmth radiating from her hand unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
Several minutes must have passed, or been lost, because the bell rang.
Lunch was over and we had precisely five minutes to get to class. I couldn’t afford another detention.
Mel clearly didn’t want to be late either. Because before I could even say goodbye, she’d packed her things and left the cafeteria.
I sat still for a moment, dumbfounded. I had no idea what had happened in the last twenty minutes. I went from being strangers with this girl, to her touching my hand?
I made my way to class in a daze, which held my mind for the next few hours until school was over. I decided to wait around as long as I could for her to come; even standing near the scooter I knew was hers, but she didn’t come through the doors, and my bus was about to leave.
I boarded and stared out the window like a puppy dog, until the school disappeared from view.
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