“The undead they sent after us were practically an open invitation. In fact, I believe they were an invitation.” The look on Salem’s face suggested he was surprised she hadn’t come to the same conclusion. “I got here by tracking the sorcio glyphs on the creature’s hands. Didn’t you?”
Dru had a momentary flashback to Greyson’s garage, especially the hissing creature’s outstretched claws, dripping black with scourge, as it reached for her. With her feet webbed tightly to the cold concrete floor, she hadn’t been able to escape. She’d barely been able to fight back. She pushed away that suffocating thought and focused on what Salem was saying.
Sorcio glyphs. On the creature’s hands.
She hadn’t thought to look there. But apparently, he had studied the creatures much more thoroughly. Which explained why he was keeping them preserved in his apartment.
“Huh,” Dru said nonchalantly. “Well, yeah. Of course. The old glyph-on-the-zombie-hand trick. Everybody’s heard of that one.”
Rane pursed her lips. “Yeah,” she said in a flat monotone. “We totally did that, too.”
Salem’s gaze ticked over to Rane and then back to Dru, looking slyly amused.
“Wait. Did you say that the undead were sent after us?” Dru asked, alarmed. “Who would do that? And why?”
“You’re supposed to be the big brain around here. Go home and figure it out.” He turned to leave.
“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” Dru chased after him and stepped in his path. “How do we get inside that atomic bunker?”
Salem’s eyes glinted in the moonlit gloom. “You don’t. I do.”
“Come on,” Rane said behind him. “That’s not fair.”
Salem moved to go around Dru, but she refused to step aside. She knew that the smoke had pointed this direction. They were so close, but there had to be something Salem wasn’t telling them.
“What’s inside the bunker, Salem? I’m not budging until you tell me. I will get up inside your grill in all kinds of ways. You know I will. I’m crazy like that.”
Salem’s spidery fingers wiggled at his sides, as if they had a life of their own. “You should learn to leave these things alone. You don’t want to be part of what comes next.”
Dru leaned closer. “What . . . is in there . . . Salem?”
His mouth twitched, and finally he uttered one word: “Volvajo.”
“Ooh. Sounds dirty,” Rane gushed. “What’s it mean?”
It took Dru a moment to place the word. It wasn’t Spanish, Italian, or any other common language. It was sorcio, the language of magic. “Volvajo is a masquerade,” Dru said. “Isn’t it?”
“Oh, very good.” Salem looked unimpressed.
“But it’s competitive,” Dru said, trying to remember what she had read about it ages ago in The Primer on Dread Things. “In a volvajo, all the sorcerers are trying to outdo one another. It’s like a tournament. Sorcerers keep competing until the end, and the best of the best team up and form a new group.”
“My prediction?” Salem said. “It’s not going to end well. It never does.”
Rane made a face. “How come I’ve never gone to one of these Volvo parties?”
Over his shoulder, Salem said, “Because everyone’s terrified to invite you, buttercup.”
Rane snorted. “’Cause I’d win.”
“As far as I know, there hasn’t been a masquerade since 1969,” Dru said with a growing feeling of alarm. “Not since the one that formed the Seven Harbingers. Isn’t that right?”
Salem looked briefly uncomfortable. “There have been a couple since then, actually, but these days, they’re more of a second-rate talent show. At best, the world wrestling of sorcery.”
“You weren’t invited to those, were you?” Dru asked, getting a perverse sense of satisfaction from the flash of anger that passed over Salem’s face. But it quickly faded as she thought of the possible motives for gathering so many sorcerers in a masquerade right now. “Is someone trying to put together a new team of sorcerers? A new Seven Harbingers?”
“Frankly, I’m shocked,” Salem said, deadpan. “Here it is, doomsday unfolding around us, and someone’s grabbing up the end-of-the-world power all for themselves? Scandalous.”
Dru was about to retort when she was interrupted by the scritching sound of an unseen bat flying overhead. She took a deep breath of the clean, invigorating mountain air, rich with the scents of pine and crystal clear mountain streams. It seemed so impossible that evil could be so close by.
Titus had known about the masquerade, she realized. He wanted to bring her. “There’s going to be a gathering tomorrow night. Everyone who is everyone, all in one place, one night. It’s the chance of a lifetime to be among the most powerful sorcerers in the world.”
“Tomorrow night,” Dru said, earning a surprised look from Salem. “That’s when this masquerade, this volvajo, is happening, isn’t it? We have to get in there.”
Salem shook his head in seeming disbelief. “You really don’t know what needs to be done, do you?”
“Not exactly. But so what? We can handle it as a team. And face it, you could use the help. Your ‘invitation’ practically killed you, and it might have succeeded if it weren’t for us.”
He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Managed to catch me by surprise. That won’t happen twice.”
“Speaking of which, what happens to the people who do fall victim to these so-called invitations? If they aren’t strong enough to fight off the undead . . .” Dru thought through the implications of that. “If these masqueraders only want to invite the most powerful sorcerers, then this would be their first test, fighting off the undead. If the sorcerers don’t survive, then they don’t qualify.”
Rane’s face showed her horror. “Dude, that’s messed up.”
“Thins out the competition.” Salem sniffed. “Notice a drop in customers lately?”
“Wait,” Dru said. “That creature we found at Greyson’s place. That was an invitation to him? These things just, what, wander around looking for sorcerers to accost? Why didn’t any show up on my doorstep?”
Rane ripped the top off another packet of energy gel. “You’ve got all those protective crystals around the shop, right?” She slurped up the packet.
“That’s true,” Dru said. “With that protective grid of crystals in place, the shop is locked up pretty tight, energy-wise.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s it.” Salem’s sarcasm was painfully obvious. “Otherwise, you would’ve been a shoo-in for the top ten.” He shook his head. “Try to understand. You wouldn’t fit in. One look at you, and they’d know you’re not in the in crowd. They’d eat you alive.”
Dru let out a nervous laugh. “Of course, you don’t mean that literally . . . right?”
He pointed at Rane. “And you, you would start a fight the moment you walked in the door.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Rane tossed her hair back and gave Salem a sultry look. “So why don’t you take me to the party and keep me out of trouble?”
Salem looked a little startled, but he tried to cover it by turning back to Dru. “You should take her home. We’re done here.”
“You’re not taking your new girlfriend, are you,” Rane said to his back. It was a statement, not a question. “How come?”
Though he had his back to Rane, Dru could easily see the look of irritation and awkwardness that passed over Salem’s features, and it was priceless.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“Aww,” Rane said with mock sympathy. “Had a little spat, did ya?”
“She has her own agenda,” Salem snapped. “I don’t control her. I’m not responsible for her.”
He wasn’t dating her either, Dru thought. She desperately wished he would just tell Rane the truth.
“Ooh.” Rane swaggered back and forth along the far edge of the dirt road. “Somebody’s not getting treated right. That’s too bad.”
Salem sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.
When he opened them, Dru could see the weariness there. Although he put on a tough face, she could tell he was nearly as exhausted as she was.
Levitating Opal’s car must have taken a lot out of him. And who knew how much other magic he’d been casting lately? Why would he expend precious reserves of energy on a stunt like that? To frighten them away.
“Do you really have that low of an opinion of us?” Dru asked softly, too quietly for Rane to hear. “Why are you trying so hard to scare us off?” She glanced past him at Rane, who watched them with puzzled curiosity. “You’re really trying to protect her, aren’t you?”
A moment of fear flashed across Salem’s features. If she didn’t know him so well, she would have missed it. But that look was unmistakable.
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “I used to like you so much more when I thought you were harmless and easily distracted.”
Despite his harsh tone, it was obvious he still deeply cared about Rane. Dru couldn’t tell if it was actually love or not, but he certainly seemed to fear for her safety. That was jarring, since Rane was physically the toughest person Dru had ever met.
But if she was right, and Salem was truly trying to protect Rane, that meant that things were extremely dangerous. Whatever was inside that mountain rattled him enough to try to warn them away, in his own special way.
“If this is going to be bad, we need to stick together,” Dru said softly. “How many years have I known you? I can tell when you’re worn out. Come back to the shop with us, and I’ll fix you a potion. We can talk.”
“Don’t presume you know a thing about me,” Salem growled back. “I’m not some kind of cripple.”
“Okay, first off, we don’t use that word anymore. It’s not nice,” Dru said. “And second, are you kidding me? Don’t shut us out like this. We could be stronger together.”
He leaned so close to Dru that she could feel the heat of his breath. “For her safety, and yours, just forget all about Greyson. Get her out of here and don’t come back.” For once, he sounded completely sincere. “If you do anything for me, do that.”
Then his sincerity vanished like a puff of smoke, and he turned to Rane with an elaborate bow. “Good night, cupcake. It’s time to go home.”
“You and me,” Rane said. “Right here. Tomorrow night.”
His eyebrows went up. “Thanks for the offer, truly, but no.” He turned and strutted away into the darkness.
Dru watched, pained, as Rane’s expression went from hopeful to disbelieving to indignant.
“Bastard.” Rane kicked a rock the size of a cantaloupe. Dirt exploded into the air around her foot, glowing in the headlight beams, and the rock shot away into the darkness. “Why does he have to be like that?”
“Because he’s Salem,” Dru said, coming over to her and standing close. Together, they listened to the whinnying sound of Opal trying to start her car. “Listen. I’m not supposed to tell you this.” Dru hesitated, thinking maybe she shouldn’t.
Judging by the eager look on Rane’s face, Dru knew she couldn’t back out now.
“Okay.” Dru kept her voice low. Just because Salem was out of sight didn’t mean he couldn’t hear her. “Listen, Ember isn’t really his girlfriend. She’s just staying with him while she figures things out with her family. They’re not sleeping together.”
The car whinnied again, and then the motor started, steady and reassuring.
“Uh-huh.” Rane’s skepticism was obvious. “They’re not sleeping together. Is that what he told you?”
“Well, yeah. But I believe him.”
“Really? Why?”
Dru opened her mouth to reply and realized she didn’t really have a good reason. It was just a feeling. And it was more than likely she was wrong. She hung her head and sighed.
Rane lightly backhanded her across the shoulder. “No sweat, D. That’s what he does. Gets inside your head. Come on, before Opal leaves without us.”
As Rane marched back down the slope toward the glowing headlights, Dru hurried to catch up. “Wait, wait. I’ve got a plan to find Greyson. Although I have to warn you, it could be really dangerous.”
Rane’s eyes turned fierce. “Does your plan involve kicking asses, specifically Salem’s and his new girlfriend’s?”
“Something like that. Only better.”
“What could be better than that?”
“The smoke from the spell headed straight toward that bunker, right? That means Greyson is in there.” Dru pointed into the distance. “We know where the entrance is. We know when the door will be open. Tomorrow night, we’ll get inside, crash the party, and find Greyson. Then I can break his curse for good, and we’ll stop doomsday. And save the world.”
Rane gave her a look that was equal parts adrenaline and uncertainty. “Yeah, I don’t know.”
They reached the car, and Dru stopped before she opened the door. “We can do this, right? It’s a plan?” Tentatively, she held up one palm. “High five?”
Rane gave her hand an unenthusiastic slap, but the impact was still hard enough to sting. “You heard what he said. We’d never fit in.”
“Oh, yes we will. When it comes to dressing up, we have a secret weapon.”
“Yeah? What?”
Dru just smiled and opened the front door of Opal’s car.
19
WHO’S THAT LADY?
The next morning, Dru didn’t open up the Crystal Connection. She handwrote a sign that said “Closed for Makeover,” and then thought that might be a little too on the nose for her plans. So she made up another sign that said “Closed for Renovations,” which wasn’t exactly true either. She crumpled that one up too, and just left up the regular Closed sign. Then she went straight into the back room to prepare a miniature version of her Greyson-finding spell. She gathered penny-sized crystals and wove a tiny copper circle she could roll up to fit in her pocket.
After that, she headed over to Opal’s place.
Opal’s fashion collection—as she called it—took up almost the whole upstairs of her house. Over the years, every bedroom had been transformed into a giant walk-in closet, filled with racks upon racks of brightly colored clothing. The walls were stacked up to the ceiling with shoes.
Dru stared wide-eyed at the endless racks of clothing packed into every available space. Colorful swaths of fabric and beaded curtains draped the walls and doorways, creating a cozy sitting space around plush chairs shaped like giant high-heeled shoes. The music was already thumping when she arrived.
Opal made her sit down next to her in a shoe chair and leaned close. “I must’ve misunderstood something. When you said you needed help dressing up for a masquerade party, that’s one thing. I’m all about that. But are you actually planning on going undercover with Rane?”
Dru shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know about ‘undercover,’ but—”
“To a sorcerers’ masquerade party. To try and find Greyson, so you can save the world. All stealthy and secret-like. And you’re planning to bring Rane?”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
Opal looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “This is a bad idea. I know this for a fact. And there’s going to be alcohol involved?”
Dru winced. “Rane’s not always that bad.”
Opal sat back in the high-heeled shoe chair, her eyes wide. “You are kidding me. Every time I let you talk me into doing something with that girl, it always ends with—” Opal’s voice dropped an octave, “—‘Ma’am, you’re going to have to come with us quietly.’”
“This time it’s going to be different, I promise.” Dru spied a plastic bag of giant foil-wrapped breakfast burritos sitting on the mirrored coffee table. “Is she here?”
A muffled crash sounded behind one of the beaded curtains. “There’s no room in this stupid place!” Rane yelled. “And nothing fits!”
“It’s okay, honey,” Opal called back, wringing her hands. “You just keep looking!” To Dru, she said in a stage whisper, “This
woman is a walking disaster zone. Lucky for you, I’ve got a lot to work with. I’ve been collecting fashion for a long time.”
Dru decided there was a fine line between collecting and hoarding, but she decided not to say anything. Instead, she unwrapped a breakfast burrito and bit into it, savoring the buttery taste of hot eggs and potatoes. She could’ve done with far less greenery—asparagus, spinach, and other vegetables—but sometimes, Rane had an obnoxious fixation with being healthy. Even with her burritos.
“Hey, Rane,” Dru called after a few bites. “Thanks for breakfast! It’s yummy.”
“Hey! D!” Another crash resounded through the room, and Rane ducked out under the beaded curtain, wearing a fringed silver halter top and a skin-tight gold lamé skirt.
“Oh, sure,” Opal said, folding her arms. “You’ve been in there forever. But the moment Dru shows up, you come out of the closet.”
“What are you trying to say?” Rane twirled in front of one of the many mirrors, ducking her head to try to see herself. “This top sucks. But, dude, I am rocking this miniskirt.”
“You do realize that’s not actually a miniskirt?” Opal said.
From her six-foot-plus height, Rane looked down the length of her body to the shimmering gold skirt. “It is now.”
“Take that off before you bust a seam,” Opal ordered. “If you stretch that out of shape, it’ll never be the same.”
“Chill out.” Rane strutted across the room and slurped down half a smoothie through a straw.
Chewing, Dru set down the burrito and wiped her hands with a napkin. “Okay. We have to think strategically. There are going to be a bunch of sorcerers at this party, all of them wearing masks. Nobody’s going to know anybody. We need to look good, but not so good that we draw too much attention.”
Rane made a face. “Screw that. I’m going to draw some attention.”
“Same here,” Opal said, drawing a circle with her finger to encompass all of them. “We are all going to look smokin’ hot, don’t you worry about that.”
“You’re not coming with us,” Rane said. She picked up Dru’s burrito and ate half of it in two bites. With her mouth full, she said, “This party is for sorcerers only.”
A Kiss Before Doomsday Page 16