The Zodiac Collector

by Laura Diamond

  “Sounds like a lot of work.” I smile like a buffoon. Duh, of course it’ll take a long time. Ugh. Oh, and the more he keeps glancing at my wonky hair, the more I want to run away. OFC retaliates by launching another assault.

  “We all pitch in. Shouldn’t take too long.” He scratches his temple.

  Mary clears her throat. “We have to get some tools for Dad. You want to come with us?” She nods at me, while tilting her head in his direction.

  “Sure. I just need to tell Marcus on the way. I don’t want him to think I ditched.”

  “Of course.” I lead the way, forcing myself not to keep both hands firmly planted on top of my head.

  Mary pulls me aside while William talks to Marcus. “What’s the matter with you? It’s like you can’t act normal or something.”

  “I’m okay.” I’m so not okay.

  “William keeps giving you strange looks.”

  “Oh, thanks, that helps.” I pull the elastic out of my hair and bend over to shake out my damp locks. Throwing my head back creates a pleasant head rush. “There. Better?”

  Mary snickers. “You’re still worried about your hair? Is that the problem?”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t do the same if you saw Evan?” I retort.

  She smirks but glances around anyway. “I thought you said William was just a friend.”

  “He is.” But he’s more than that. He’s my best friend. He’s sweet, smart, cuter than cute, and always there for me, ready to help whenever I need something. He’s my Knight, as corny as it sounds.

  I blink, struck by the inspiration-tipped Arrow of Duh. If we tell him about Zeena, he can help us figure her out. Then we won’t have to tell Gamma and she won’t have to get mad at me all over again. Win-win. “Shhh. Here he comes. We need—”

  “Your hair is fine.” She fusses with a couple strands.

  “I don’t care about that.”

  Her expression—a mix of, “yeah, right” and “what are you plotting now?”—wallops me.

  “Okay, I do care about that, but what I’m trying to say is we should try to find a way to tell him what happened without telling him what happened.”

  “Oh, Anne, come on. What will bringing William into this accomplish? He doesn’t know anything about magick.”

  “He’ll understand.”

  She spins on her heels and presses her back against the fence. “Is that so?”

  “Okay, maybe he won’t, but he’s the least likely to think we’re crazy.”

  “You said Grandmother—”

  William jogs up to us. “Ready?”

  Mary shoves off the fence. “Let’s go. We’re just getting tools, right, Anne?” She gives me a toothy grin.

  “Sure.”

  “And that’s all.”

  I give her a non-committal, “Um-hmm,” and she groans, walking ahead of us with her hands fisted.

  William falls into step next to me while Mary leads the way. “You guys fighting?”

  “What’s new?” I shrug.

  “Your hair looks nice curly.”

  “Thanks.” I tuck a strand behind my ear. Operation Fuzzy Confusion can suck it. “We met a new merchant today.” I change the subject and ignore Mary, who circles back to walk with us. She immediately starts gnawing on a fingernail.

  “Oh, yeah? Who?”

  “Ze, Zee, Ze…” A zuzzy sound comes out of my mouth when I try to say Zeena’s name.

  William leans in as we walk. “Who?”

  “Er, a…collector.” I almost whoop, “Huzzah!” at the success.

  “What do they collect?” He kicks a stone from his path. It splashes into a puddle.

  “Z-z-z…z-o,” I cough and stumble over my own feet.

  “Zoo? I don’t get it.”

  “No, she collects z-z-z.” I point at Mary, then me.

  “Twins?” He frowns.

  I’m running out of ideas. “You know the symbols in astrology. There are twelve of them?”

  “What is this, twenty questions?”

  “Just guess,” I snap.

  He clears his throat. “You mean the zodiac?”

  “Yes!”

  William flinches. “Are you okay?”

  “No, she isn’t.” Mary rolls her eyes.

  William scratches his neck and sucks in his cheeks.

  “Never mind.” I drop the subject and we fall into silence. None of us speak until we finish gathering all the items on Dad’s list. His workshop is so cluttered and full of spare wrought iron, broken metal pieces to be repaired, rusted tools, and works-in-progress that it takes us a long time to locate everything. Good thing William came with us because he identifies the things Mary and I don’t know.

  “Looks like we got everything. Finally.” Mary folds the list and puts it in the toolbox we’re using to carry Dad’s tools.

  “I’m not heading back until I get into some dry clothes,” I groan. And maybe a hat, though at the rate my hair is expanding from frizz, I’d need a garbage bag to cover it all.

  “First good idea you’ve had all day,” Mary digs.

  “I’ll wait for you guys on the porch.” William keeps his distance as Mary and I storm into the house.

  Mom’s waiting for us at the base of the stairs. Her arms are folded across her chest and her tongue is pushing out her cheek. She nods the nod of the all-knowing. “I knew I couldn’t trust you two.” She eclipses the distance between us in two strides and drops to her knees, clutching at our skirts. “Just look at these gowns! They’re ruined!”

  My insides go all fluttery, like every organ wants to liquefy and pool into my feet.

  Mary whimpers.

  “The storm…it came up so fast.” I try to explain, but my voice barely makes it past my lips.

  “How am I supposed to advertise now?” she wails.

  “You could rent a shoppe at the faire instead of letting other vendors sell your dresses on consignment. That way, people can watch you work and you’d have all the advertising you could want.”

  Mom wipes her runny nose with her arm and does a backward crab-walk to the stairs. She stuffs her hand in her pocket, digging for her trusty cigarettes and lighter. Her hands shake as she dips the cigarette to the flame. After a long drag, she says, “Doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t want your help, if this is what your help is.” She stands and exhales smoke in my face. My lungs instantly seize. “Get out of my sight.”

  Mary tugs me toward the stairs. Mom retreats to her workroom and slams the door.

  I’m out of breath by the time we reach our room. I flop on the bed, sopping dress and all, and take yet another hit of my inhaler.

  “She’s heinous.” Mary twists and yanks at the dress, peeling it off inch by inch. The dogs huddle around her feet, sniffing at the fabric.

  “Beyond heinous.” I close my eyes and force the smoke out of my lungs, repeating the mantra, “Good air in, bad air out,” in my head.

  Petal-soft fingers flitter over my forehead. “Come on. I’ll help you get out of your dress.”

  I open my eyes. Mary’s dressed in a puffy-sleeved pirate’s shirt with black leggings. A wide belt cinches her tiny waist and her coin purse dangles from her hip. Instead of a parrot, a beaked creature with feathered wings, a raccoon tail, and dragon’s claws adorns her shoulder. Its cerulean-blue wings pop against its black body and bright blue eyes shine with intelligence. She’s strung the wire that controls his mechanics down her shirtsleeve and has the button palmed. “You’re bringing Julius. Cute.”

  “You should wear your pirate costume. I’m sure Maximus would like to go for a walk.”

  I glance at the top of my bookshelf where Max hangs out most of the time. His cream-colored body matches his flexible wings. Lime-green eyes frame his white beak. A fluffy spray of pale gray hair frames his face, and the same color fur covers the rest of his body.

  “Borrow my hat if you want to cover your hair, even though it looks fine.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mary and I creep d
ownstairs. We tug on our knee-high boots outside. Neither of us says anything to William about Mom’s screaming and he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t have to.

  “Thanks for waiting,” I say.

  “Sure thing. About that Zodiac stuff…” His eyes sparkle with curiosity. He takes the toolbox from me—after greeting Max and Julius; they are creatures that thrive on etiquette and refuse to be ignored—and swings it casually as we walk to the faire grounds.

  I cringe, waiting for a clap of thunder, but nothing happens.

  Mary looks at the sky and hugs herself.

  “Do you know there are new vendors in the woods?” I ask, hoping a hybrid of charades and twenty questions will go better this time.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Let’s find…the…shoppe.” If we can talk to her, tell her we’re not interested in doing magick anymore, maybe she’ll leave us alone. Should’ve thought of that sooner.

  Mary stops. We’re only a few feet away from the main gate. “Are you crazy?”

  William’s gaze slides from Mary to me.

  “We can’t go back there.”

  “We need to find out what’s going on.” I dig my fists into my hips.

  “Uh, no we don’t. We need to stay as far away from…you know who as much as we can.” Her eyes bulge. To bring the point home, she manipulates Julius’s mechanics and turns his head side to side.

  “That won’t make her go away,” I counter, pressing the button on Max’s control so his head goes up and down.

  “What are you guys talking about?” William asks.

  “Nothing,” we reply in unison.

  “Right.” He walks in front of us, shaking his head. The guard doesn’t check our passes.

  A dark cloud hovers over the smithy. Mary tugs on my sleeve and points. “Anne.”

  “I see it.”

  William looks at us out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you guys are acting weird.”

  “I’m sorry, William. I want to tell you, but I’m having trouble finding the right words.” Understatement of the Sixteenth Century.

  “Oh my God.” Mary stops short again, this time on the smithy steps.

  I follow her gaze.

  Zeena. She’s standing next to Dad. They’re both leaning on the counter, chatting. Why isn’t he freaking out? She has vertical pupils. No one else on the planet has vertical pupils. It’s a strictly animal trait, which means Zeena is not entirely human.

  Dad nods. He’s grinning weirdly and his eyes have a vacant look, like he’s not really seeing anything. My heart squirms in my chest. “Yeah, the whole family is into it. I’m the blacksmith, my wife makes costumes and gowns, and my daughters Anne and Mary—they’re twins—they just love to dress up.”

  “Oh, how lovely.” The woman’s fake sing-song voice grates on my ears.

  Dad nods. His gaze shifts to us. “Hello, girls. William.”

  “Hi, Mr. Devans.” William waves, then flips his hair out of his face. I melt, but only for a sec. I can’t let him distract me from Zeena.

  I take the toolbox from William and stare the old woman down as I stalk across the room. She’s not the only one who can play scary. “We got what you asked for, Dad.”

  Dad checks the toolbox. After a moment, he slaps the lid shut and says, “Excellent. Well, I’m going to get back to work. Nice talking to you.” He smiles at Zeena, then nods to us. “I’ll be late for dinner, girls. Make sure your mom eats something.” He disappears into the back room, leaving us with the collector.

  Mary and William flank me. We create a wall of solidarity and I feed off the vibes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  The woman smiles at me, exposing her crooked and yellowed teeth. I step back, and our line of strength snaps. Brittle pieces litter the floor at our feet. My power wanes.

  Zeena crowds closer. Her bad breath is as deadly as her words. “Be careful, Anne. Castor and Pollux don’t like to be toyed with. They are jealous, especially of friendships with outsiders. They will turn against you, quite unexpectedly and for little reason.” Her reptilian stare slips to William. “What a handsome boy.”

  He clears his throat. “Um, hi.”

  That’s it. I won’t give her the chance to talk to William like she talked to Dad. I fold my arms, as if that’ll stop my heart from pounding straight through my rib cage and out of my chest, the flipping coward that it is. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s right. You don’t.” She sidesteps me to approach William. She presses a bony hand to his face and whispers something in another language. His face contorts with confusion, then goes blank. “Libra. How nice. Very balanced.”

  “Are you done?” I slip back in between William and Zeena. Hopefully, my weak knees won’t buckle.

  “Anne,” Mary warns.

  The woman glances at her, then grins at me. “She’s the steadier one, isn’t she? And you’re the fireball. Prone to anger like your mother.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “Oh, but I do know. The stars tell me everything. You’re too bold to understand that I’ve already won, and it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Won what?” My brow furrows.

  “Exactly.” She retreats on her own, but her laughter lingers, just like her musty smell.

  Mary lets out a breath. I lean against the counter, gasping for air in the vacuum Zeena left behind.

  William blinks several times, then looks around the room like he’s seeing it for the first time. “What’s going on? Why were you so rude to that old lady?”

  “Rude? No, she…” I gurgle, stuck on the explanation. Zeena’s muting spell is as potent as ever. “I can’t do this. We have to change the…you know.” I throw my hand out and wiggle my fingers.

  Mary nods. “I know. Otherwise…”

  “Wow, you guys are making no sense. I’m gonna go. When you figure out what you want to tell me, let me know.” William rolls his eyes and leaves.

  “Wait.” What the heck? He rushes away so fast that I have to jog to catch up to him. “William.”

  He spins on me. A different version of William stands before me. The lines of his face are hard and his eyes stony. He’s never looked at me this way before, not even when we’re mad at each other. “What is it, Anne? You act like you can’t talk, you keep doing sign language with Mary. If you don’t want me around, why don’t you just tell me?”

  “What are you talking about? We want you around. I want you around. It’s just we…can’t tell you. We—”

  “Never mind. It’s a sister thing. I understand. The old woman said you’d keep secrets from me.”

  An avalanche of subzero shock smothers me. My heart shivers from the cold. “What? When did she say that?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know.” He sprints away.

  “William!” My chest tightens, but it’s not from an asthma attack. It’s from the jabs of pain from William’s accusation.

  That old witch must’ve enchanted him or something. I press a shaky hand to my lips. Zeena is more powerful than I could’ve imagined. All it took was a few seconds, a couple words, and my friendship with William is broken, tearing further apart with every step away he takes. Tears burn at my eyes, melting my soul and sparking a chain reaction of fury and hurt. I’m not losing my best friend because of some old woman. It’s time to chat with Castor and Pollux—the twins, not the dogs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mary watches me set a candle in each of the four corners. She sits on her bed and eyes her closet like it’s begging her to reorganize it again. “Can you at least put away all the stuff that might fly around? I don’t want to get a pencil lodged in my forehead. And let Castor and Pollux out.”

  Thunder crashes from above.

  “Really?” I glare at the ceiling, then pour some stardust on a small plate and set it in the middle of the room. Sitting on the floor, I flip through the pages of my spellbook and search for a modification spell. Not return
ing it is another promise to Gamma I’m breaking. This one is for a good reason, though. I want to fix all this stuff before Gamma finds out about it. Otherwise, I’ll probably never have another chance to learn magicks from her.

  “We might have to change the dogs’ names.” Mary bites her fingernail. “I don’t know about this, Anne. What if we make it worse? Didn’t Gamma say to bring the book back to her?”

  “For goodness sake. An old witch is after us, our parents are lunatics, and William is mad at me. How much worse can it get?”

  “Never ask that question.” Mary collects the knickknacks from her bedside table and shoves them in a drawer. Then she carefully places Julius and Maximus in the trunk at the end of her bed. “Come on, pups, out.” She ushers the dogs out of the room. They immediately start scratching at our door.

  “Stop it, Cas and Pol!” I holler. No thunder. Guess the Gemini twins don’t respond to nicknames. Good. The scratching stops but whining ensues. I pull out my notebook to jot down some verses.

  “Why don’t you apologize to him? You did act pretty weird.” She stuffs loose papers into the desk.

  “I think the old woman warped his mind somehow.” I crumple the paper I scribbled on and start over.

  “I wish Grandmother never gave you that book.” She kneels on the floor, directly across from me.

  “I know you hate this stuff. But you don’t have to rub it in.”

  “I’m not rubbing it in. Gawd, you can be so sensitive sometimes.” She pulls her hair into a ponytail.

  “Whatever.” I impale the page with my pen. My mind is a wasteland, frigid and stark like the Arctic Circle. Sheets of white ice cover my brain, suffocating the brave seedlings of ideas. A moan trickles across the barren landscape. I know nothing about magick and I really think I can go up against a master at it?

  “So we’re going to do a reversal spell, right? Make everything the way it was?”