He waved a hand, but didn’t look back.
Ugh. In case of further run-ins with Philips, I’d have to bring
Demon Spawn out of hiding.
The first bell shrieked.
Welcome to my nightmare indeed.
A chorus of ear-splitting shrieks echoed in the hall. Brit and another kid from our CALM class gave each other’s Reality Babes assessing looks, comparing accessories. Gertrude’s baby- bat costume and skull-and-cross-bones blanket earned a raised eyebrow and a quick spin in the opposite direction.
“Don’t you fret, Gerty, they’re just jealous,” Brit said and adjusted the baby carrier more securely in her grip as we entered the Home Economics lab and approached our workstation. Each station had been provided with a copy of the assigned recipe, and it was our job to get organized, collecting the ingredients and forming a plan of attack regarding who would be responsible for what part of the actual cooking, before our teacher addressed the class.
We set to work, looking through drawers for just the right stirring spoons and riffling through our workstation’s apartment- sized fridge for the proper ingredients.
I felt a twinge of regret that while I’d retrieved my demon spawn, I’d promptly stuffed her into my backpack. But then…it was only a twinge. I just couldn’t handle those wonky eyes. Or the fake breathing. And I’d been feeding her when she cried, most of the time. So she wasn’t as pampered as Gertrude. And maybe I’d crammed her into dark, confining places instead of showing her off to the world. At least I hadn’t knocked her out because she was annoying. She still had it better than Paige.
“So Paige is out cold?” I pulled a jug of milk out of the fridge, opened the lid, and took a sniff. Seemed okay. “No chance of her waking up and crashing our night mare ousting tonight?” I plunked the jug down on the counter, needing to hear confirmation that my cousin was under control. She was such a chronic pain in my ass.
I didn’t need to be worried about her getting herself killed or ending up as bait. Again. Not when things were so iffy. I’d never taken down a creature in the dream realm before. Here’s hoping I’d keep my clothes on and the whole thing wouldn’t turn into one of those naked-in-the-raw-hamburger-aisle dreams. Though I’d rarely had any that normal, they did happen.
“Marie gave her enough to knock out an elephant.” Brit held up a hand at my double take. “Kidding, I’m kidding,” she said, waving a wire whisk. “Mostly.”
I groaned. Though I liked Paige about as much as gargling salt water with a mouthful of canker sores, I really did have much to make up for when she was back to normal. If Kate could bring her back.
My stomach lurched. Best not to think of Paige for now. I had other beasties to contend with, ones even more demanding, although I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Like the monster I held in my hands. A real recipe for disaster.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Brit stared at the mélange of ingredients I’d collected. Vials of dark liquid, small bowls with precise measurements of fine white powers.
“Oh, course,” I lied, skimming the paper I held once more. Had I missed anything? “Kate does stuff like this all the time. How hard can it be?”
“You could poison us, or worse.”
“Come on, Brit,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s not like I’m working a spell. I agree that would be life-threatening for everyone involved.” I gestured to the other students, also arranging their ingredients according to the photocopied recipe Mrs. Rodale had handed out. “I cook. I find it relaxing.” A flash of me swinging a black cast-iron frying pan at my demon-possessed uncle. “Usually.” The witch at the front of the room finally addressed the class. Students weren’t the only ones to partake in the spirit of Halloween. Ms. Rodale had replaced her usual chef’s uniform and toque blanche with an ankle-grazing black dress and two-foot tall witch’s hat. Her choice of costume was so apt, I wasn’t sure anyone had really noticed she was wearing one.
“Our desserts today all have a high egg content,” Rodale said, her voice piping through the speakers built into the ceiling. Ugh. Teachers with voices like gargoyles should never use the hands- free mics found in each Redgrave High classroom. Ones dressed as witches? Went without saying. “Egg-based dishes require a delicate hand. If one is told to whisk, one must keep the motion all in one’s wrists.”
“One must hold one’s vomit in one’s mouth,” Brit said under her breath.
I choked back a laugh.
Rodale’s pale blue eyes sought out the sound.
Brit, Gertrude, and I were suddenly transfixed by the carton of eggs I’d placed on the counter earlier. Such a wonderful carton of eggs.
Rodale focused on a guy in the group at the cooking station beside ours. He wore traditional vampire attire, high-collared cape, red vest, and his hair slicked back. Uh-oh. Trouble. True to his vamp roots, he also appeared to be pulling an Edward, staring in fascination at a blonde zombie at the opposite sink, her clothing strategically torn to reveal some serious cleavage. She returned his interest with a hungry stare. The bowl and whisk drooped in his hands. He was clearly smitten.
“Jonathan, that soufflé won’t make itself.” Rodale all but glided down the aisle, her back hunched from years of toiling and bubbling around a cauldron. Or stove as it were.
The vampire Jonathan began to whisk like he meant it. Rodale’s evil eye slid over the class and settled on me and
Brit, the coldness of it like a winter wind. It seemed so long ago that Wade had first hinted that some of Redgrave High’s staff and student population might be a bit outside the box. If anyone fit the paranormal bill, it was Rodale. I made a big show of tossing some rock salt over my shoulder. Right? Left? I did both just in case. Rodale’s eyebrows rose at my challenge and for an instant her eyes glittered as if lit from within, then she turned away, blasting into another student. Forget melted butter and stale flour, I could smell the vanilla scent of unfamiliar magic in the air.
Brit’s jaw dropped. “She’s not human. She must be a witch. I never would have pegged that. But I mean, look at her, it’s too obvious.”
I’d learned long ago that the obvious solution was usually overlooked. Unfortunately there was nothing obvious about what Rodale wanted us to cook. She’d given each group a different recipe, and none of our papers included photos of the completed dish. I hated it when I didn’t have a visual to compare to. Brit’s instincts were bang on. Like magic, cooking held loads of room for error.
Still, how hard could it be to make a…I squinted at the heading of our recipe.
“Is that French?”
Brit snorted. “Italian. Tiramisu. It’s a kind of layered pastry dessert.”
“All right class, now for the eggs,” Rodale prompted.
In unison we reached into our cartons, selected an egg, and cracked it against the side of our glass bowls.
Screams rang out.
Cartons fell to the floor, their grisly contents spilling over the tiles.
Each egg contained either swirls of blood or the hairless, bulbous form of a chicken embryo. The bloody yolk in our bowl swirled of its own accord, taking the shape of a demonic scowling face.
Okay, so the night mare might be onto us.
Well, yeah, when he said it like that. . .
A few hours later, I stood pressed against the stage wall observing a human rite of passage known as the school dance. Truly terrifying.
Ghouls lined the walls in small throngs of witches, zombies, vampires—even political figures and WOW characters thanks to a few members of the Axis and Allies Club—leaving the center of the gym dead as a ghost town. Contrary to every teenybopper prom flick, I’d never experienced a whole lot of dancing at these shindigs.
Guttural, hissing vocals spat through the DJ’s speakers like a chorus of zombies doing karaoke. Perfect mood music for night’s festivities.
Though this pulse-pounding tunage did nothing to soothe my savage beast. If anything, it made my wolf restless, aroused.
>
“Boo…” Hot breath whispered along the nape of my neck, sending a rush of heat down my spine. The solid body pressed against my back invited me to settle in, take shelter. To feel. I bit my lip against a moan. First Alec says he’ll never leave me, then he doesn’t speak to me, and now he’s sticking to me like melted chocolate on a ripe strawberry. And, damn, but I liked it. I shifted forward as much as possible in the crowd gathered below the gym stage, farthest from where the DJ was set up and cajoling the costumed masses to get up and boogie.
“Do you mind?” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s roasting in here, and I don’t need you breathing down my neck.”
“It’s not roasting, you’re just hot.”
There was a moment of silence. When I didn’t respond to Alec’s double entendre, he gave a dry laugh. “Sorry for living. Breathing. Being human. I know you prefer those who aren’t.”
My jaw ached. I so wanted to show him some angry wolven fang right now, but I refused to get into a snarling match about Wade. The point was moot anyway. It wasn’t like Wade had shown up at the last minute and helped save the day. Though that would have significantly increased the chances of us coming out of this little adventure alive and kicking. Nope, I was going to fly this crazy train solo, so you’d have thought Alec would be more supportive.
A collective gasp of horror rang out as the supervisors, Mr. Riggs, the gym teacher, and Mrs. Rodale took to the dance floor. They began to slide into some swing moves. Rodale glided along the polished gym floor. Totally inappropriate for the theme of the night, but horrific just the same. I bet that, under the long skirt of Rodale’s witchy black dress, her feet weren’t touching the ground. “If you deadbeats don’t dance, it’s suicides all next week,” Riggs roared above the hissing speakers. “And not just members of my basketball team.”
Riggs wasn’t just the gym teacher/ basketball and volleyball coach. He also taught biology. His reach was far and wide in Redgrave High, assigning push-ups or suicide laps around the gym if you ticked him off. Inspired by his threat, a smattering of bodies joined the teachers. All eyes observed their zombie-esque jerking gyrations with glee.
“Now,” Alec said in my ear.
Hunching low, we slide behind the dance-floor wallflowers hugging the edges of the gym. In tandem we placed our hands on the edge of the stage and hopped aboard. Not a soul noticed as we skidded across the wood floor and ducked into the small storage closet along the far end of the stage.
I closed the door. Shutting us in. My vision allowed me to see in the dark, but Alec resorted to feeling the wall to get a sense of the room. The music droned on, the bass muffled but pounding in time with my heart. I didn’t want to be this close to Alec. Well, I did. But I shouldn’t even be in the same room with him. Not until we were on the same page, both agreeing that for his sake, it was best if we were apart. Goose bumps traveled the length of my arm and shoulder where we touched. Spikes of need shot through me, a yearning that festered in my stomach as I fought against the pull of Alec’s body so near mine.
“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” Alec asked in a low grumble.
I inhaled sharply, taken by the notion. “I’d kiss you back.” Alec shifted on his feet, his muscles tense.
“But then I’d hate myself and I’d hate that you tried to change my mind, and we’d end up exactly where we are in this moment.” I gave a weak laugh. “Frustrated. Hurting.” I shook my head. “So please don’t, Alec. Don’t even think about it. We can’t. We’re not ever going to again.”
“You’re wrong, Eryn.” Alec groaned and leaned his head against the back of the closet door. “You make everything so damn complicated.”
“I’m sorry.” I reached out a hand. My fingers trailed over his glossy black hair.
Alec jerked at my feather-light touch. He slammed his fist into the wood paneling, making me jump with the shock of his anger. He fired me a heated glance. “We’ll play this your way. For now.” He straightened. “But I gotta say, stupidest freaking plan.” Alec cursed as he crouched at my side. “Trap the night mare in a school gym filled with kids, easy pickings, and then hide in a closet and take a nap.”
Well, yeah, when he said it like that…
I dragged in a long, slow breath, dizzy with his hot and cold act. The intensity of emotions he’d churned up left me drained.
He rooted through the gear bag he’d dropped between us, pulling a light stick from its depths. He bent the plastic rod until it cracked. A soft green glow illuminated our darkened quarters. Not that I’d needed the additional lighting to be mesmerized by Alec’s prominent cheekbones and his full bottom lip.
He handed me the light.
The glow shifted, causing shadows to creep along the walls. They thickened, bleeding into ferocious, snarling faces. Mouths opened wide, as if ready to gorge on my flesh or scream at some unknown agony. Alec’s voice rumbled in the distance, but I couldn’t make out his words. His tone grew more insistent. I blinked, and the grim forms settled back into simple lines and curves.
Whoa. “Maybe you should hurry,” I said. My knees wobbled in the aftermath of the shadowy vision, but I stayed upright.
“You didn’t take the sleeping potion already, did you?” He grabbed my arm, steadying me.
“What?” I pulled from his grip. “No, I didn’t. Thanks for trusting me to stick to the plan.” I rubbed at my eyes. They stung like I’d been staring into a laser pen and burning my retinas. It would be wonderful when the night mare’s mind games were no more.
Alec’s words registered.
“Did you just call your mother’s herbal mixture a sleeping potion?” I stared at him, amused. “Isn’t that being a bit fairy-tale dramatic?”
“The idea of dreamwalking and killing a demon doesn’t make you go hmm? But you want me to use less dramatic vocabulary?” Alec gave a low laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now for the third time, find a place to hook that up. I need some light to copy the protection sigils.”
“Oh, right.” I wiggled the glowstick between my fingers, debating, but in the end decided that bludgeoning him with neon green goo was beneath me. I scanned for a ledge, a hook, anything. There. In the wall to my left were several finishing nails a few inches apart and jutting out about half an inch. Perfect. I balanced the glowstick over them.
“Are you sure those are going to work?” I asked as Alec marked the walls with a piece of white chalk. The shadows retreated to the darkened corners above us.
Alec kept his back to me, focused on his task. “As soon as Kate sets the spell in motion, these will kick into high gear.” With each arc and line, magical energy thrummed, beating against the narrow walls. Thickening the air. “You’ll be completely protected as long as you stay in the closet.”
“Aren’t people supposed to be coming out of the closet?”
Alec ignored my lame attempt at comic relief and laboriously copied magical symbols Kate had sketched on the back of a tri- fold paper that served as Conundrum’s lunch menu. Because, who wouldn’t draw sacred protection sigils on a throwaway flyer?
“I have a few things for you in my bag,” Alec said. “Mom thought they might be useful.”
I discovered a tinfoil-ish emergency blanket and an unopened, rather flat cellophane wrapper. I flipped it over. The woman pictured on the packaging reclined in a claw-foot tub, her delicate neck resting on an inflatable plastic pillow.
All the comforts of home. I made quick work of opening the package and blowing up the pillow, not wanting Alec to turn around and watch.
“Keep your phone handy.”
My phone? I lowered the pillow from my lips and inserted the stopper. I dropped the pillow on the floor where it landed on the emergency blanket and fished my phone out of my pocket. It was on, but the screen had no display. I gave it a few shakes. Nothing. I turned it on and off again.
Still no display.
“I’ll call you when I’ve located the night mare’s corporeal form. Then and only then, drin
k this.” Alec handed me a thermos filled with his mother’s equivalent of sleepy time tea.
It smelled like ass, even with the lid firmly sealed. My throat tightened. I dreaded the thought of gulping down the vile contents. “We’ll have to come up with some other signal,” I said, after tucking the container safely on the floor in the nearest corner so I wouldn’t knock it over.
“I thought you were bragging about how well you were sticking to the plan.”
“I was. I am.” I bit my lip. “This is the only glitch, I promise.” I held up my non-functional phone for him to examine the black screen, then tossed it onto one of the empty shelves. “I’d hoped it would last the night, but…I guess not.” When Alec rolled his eyes, I got a bit defensive. “So I dropped it in the snow. A few times. It’s not my fault they don’t take snow into consideration when they design these little suckers.”
Frustration flicked across Alec’s usual impervious expression. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “That’s one major glitch, Eryn. You can’t go to sleep until I’ve destroyed the night mare’s tangible form, forcing it into the dream realm. And you won’t know when that happens if you’re holed up in here without any way for us to communicate. How did you think this was going to work?”
“Walky-talkies?”
“Yeah, if I’d had some warning.”
“If Wade was here—” I clamped my lips shut.
“If Wade was here, what?” Alec took a step closer. Anger rose off his skin, heating the air between us.
I gave in to my own growing annoyance. “Well for one thing, I wouldn’t need a phone. I’d just think about him and—” I snapped my fingers. As I did so the smell of mint lit the air. My head jerked back and inhaled deep. “Son of a…”
I shoved the door open.
Wade stood there, arms crossed. Paige huddled beside him clinging to his long black leather coat. Beyond them, Redgrave High’s costumed beasties swayed and shimmied to the beat.
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