by Adams, Lori
I pan over the happy faces and land on Santiago, standing straight like a fence post. I lower the camera, and he marches toward me, deliberate and serious. My fear returns and I glance around, for what or whom I don’t know.
“Relax,” he says with a cockeyed smirk. He looks at my hands. “Nothing to worry about until one of those starts glowing.” I shove my free hand into my pocket, and he laughs. “Yeah, like that’ll do any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know?” He points over my shoulder, and I turn and look up. All along the rooftops are men and women in long black coats and pale, grim faces. They’re pacing and staring into the crowd like lions on the prowl. “Lesser demons,” Santiago says, and I whirl back around.
“Do they know it’s me?” I demand, curling my fingers on instinct.
“Like I said, not till your hand starts glowing.”
“What about …” I look at the people enjoying the festivities.
“Don’t worry. They’re not here for anyone but you.” He grins.
What an asshole.
“So … what do you want?” I demand.
“Dante wants to see you.”
“I don’t answer to his beck and call.”
“Well I do,” he says coldly. “Besides, you wanna see what he has. Trust me.”
I follow Santiago through the chaos, skirting around the giant Christmas tree, and past the ice rink packed with people. We head to the back of the courthouse and the parking lot shared with the high school. It’s jammed with cars, and we pick our way through. It’s pretty dark back here so I keep my eyes peeled for the freaks in long black coats. No one is following.
We squeeze between two SUVs, and then turn at a white van and stop. There are several people waiting on the snow-packed school lawn: Dante, the guy in the leather jacket, a woman, and …
Colin Firth!
I gasp, and he looks at me with terror in his eyes. He is traumatized and trembling in his smoking jacket and silk slippers. I don’t know what to think. How is it possible?
“Buonasera, cara—”
“Dante!” I yell and march over. “What’s going on? Why is he here?” I point to Colin Firth. The woman hoots out a laugh and my eyes cut to her. She has long black hair, red lips, and is dressed like an expensive hooker in thigh-high Jimmy Choo boots that Bailey would kill for. The belt around her black miniskirt has a diamond-studded buckle that says GRIM. I swallow a bad feeling that tastes like blood.
“Dante?” My voice is noticeably softer, almost pleading. I’m hoping she’s not what I think she is.
Dante smiles and makes the introductions. “Sophia, I would like you to meet Teriza, a … colleague of mine.” He presents me like a gift. “Teriza, this is Sophia.”
She smiles slow and catlike, and I feel like prey. Her boots crunch in the snow as she walks a tight circle around me. She smells of burnt ashes and death. I hear a faint purr emanating from her, and I turn, scrutinizing her scrutinizing me—stalking me.
“Oooo, she is quiet the defiant little minx, isn’t she, Dante? To speak to a member of the Royal Court like that?” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly, and I look at Dante with fresh eyes. It occurs to me that I don’t really know him at all. I’ve been told he’s a Demon Knight but never considered what that meant. I see now that he’s far more powerful and important than I knew.
I look at the guy in the leather jacket, and Dante says, “And I’ve heard you know Degan.”
I startle, and Degan laughs modestly. “Yeah, it’s me. I got new threads after Raph snapped my neck.” He shows off his jacket. “Better, right? Man, I hated those grungy clothes. Didn’t you?”
He sounds casual and cool, like someone I would hang out with. But I’m in shock. I do remember Raph killing Degan at the scene of a car accident. I do remember Raph telling me the kill was temporary and that Degan could pop up in a new body later. Now that I think about it, I never saw Degan after that.
And then I remember what he is, a soul seeker, and the blood drains from my face. And Teriza must be a reaper. I look at Colin Firth. He’s noticeably shaken, and I understand what’s happening.
“Dante, what have you done?” I move between Colin and the others, glaring at Dante.
“Ah, I see that you recognize Mr. Firth. He told me he met a young girl who wanted to help him cross over but was not yet a spirit walker. I could only assume it was you. And now that we’re all acquainted, let me explain. Since you’ve so stubbornly refused to stop your Awakening, you left me no choice but to help you out.”
“Help me how?”
“Help you out,” he repeats with a stern look. I understand; he wants to help me out of my Awakening. Just like Michael. “I thought you should experience, firsthand, the practicalities of saving a lost soul. And we have just the lost soul to save. Do we not, Mr. Firth?”
Colin shakes his head, refusing to speak. He’s trying to be invisible by staying quiet. Santiago laughs. “He thinks if he talks, he’ll alert the lesser demons roaming around.”
“And why is that funny?” I demand, remembering why I never liked him. Santiago never seemed to have compassion for anyone. Always so selfish.
“Uh, ’cause he’s already surrounded by a Demon Knight, a smokin’ hot reaper, and a soul seeker who could Take him in a second.”
“Thanks, kid.” Teriza winks and flips her hair over her shoulder. I scoff.
“And why haven’t you Taken him?” I ask her.
She sets her black eyes on me and puckers her red lips. “Well, precious, I suppose it’s because you and I are going to fight for him.”
Chapter 16
I’ll Have a Double Entendre Shaken Not Stirred
Reality dawns like cancer in the gray matter; it’s poison that spreads and makes me nauseous. I understand what Dante is up to. He is so determined to stop my Awakening that he’s sacrificing the lost soul of an innocent man. At my expense.
I look around, hoping that Rama didn’t take my rude advice when I asked him to leave me to my own devices tonight. I was sulking about being humiliated by Michael in the barn. I now see that I have no devices, and poor Colin is going to pay for my big mouth.
“There is no one to help you,” Dante says, leaning against the van and crossing his arms. “This is what you wanted so badly, Sophia, so have at it.” He gestures toward Colin.
“This isn’t fair! I’m not ready and you know it!”
Teriza strolls closer and uncoils the whip at her side. “Oh, precious wants life to be fair. How utterly adorable.” She fakes a pout, and I want to scratch her eyes out. I glare at Dante.
“If, by some fluke, I’m able to stop Sailor Moon over here, I don’t know how to help Colin cross over. I can’t keep him safe. So this little exercise in humility isn’t worth anyone’s time.”
“Your loss,” Teriza says, reaching for Colin. He cowers and lets out a wail. I lunge between them.
“Stop it! Leave him alone!”
Her red lips curl into a cold smile. “You can’t have it both ways, precious. Casper may not be a serial killer, but he is dead. And I’m here to drag him to Hell. So you’d better stop toying with him. Why … that’s just cruel.”
“Shut up!” I yell, and she backhands me across the face. My head flies sideways as pain explodes across my cheek. I double over, holding my face and grimacing. Now I really do taste blood. I touch my lip; it’s stinging and bloody. I straighten up and look at Dante. He has taken a step forward and is glaring at Teriza.
I grit my teeth and face the reaper. Something inside me is churning, working its way to the surface. It reminds me of the dark thoughts I sometimes had with Dante, when he triggered a side of me I didn’t like. I can’t worry about that now; I can’t believe that I can be turned dark so quickly.
I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. Then I open them and haul back and punch Teriza right in the face. We are both shocked, and I stagger sideways from the blow. My knuckles throb. Her head ro
cks back, and she’s clutching her nose in stunned silence. Then her eyes flare, and she screeches, coming at me with claws out. She grabs a handful of my coat and hurls me against the white van. It’s bone crunching, and I crumple down, holding my side. Then she picks me up and throws me at a car. I slide across the hood, wailing, “Mother fuuuuu—” over the edge and into the snow. I land on my side with a hard grunt. My ribs feel broken or at least cracked. All the air has left me, and I struggle to breathe. I’m too weak to continue.
My God! Where is Michael? Why doesn’t he know I’m in pain? Why doesn’t he come?
I struggle to my feet and limp around the car. Teriza has taken up her whip. She has lost her cool and is pissed that I’ve mussed her style or hair or whatever. I stumble through the snow, yelling for her to stop. I reach out to Colin as Teriza snaps the whip around his neck. He wails but she laughs, relishing the fear and pain she creates. Colin’s eyes bulge, and his body vibrates and smokes. He screams, stretching out for me.
“Please!” he cries. “Help me!”
I throw myself at him, trying to hang on for his dear life. I clutch his hand, but Teriza is already dragging him away. He fades from my fingers, and I fall to my knees, sobbing.
* * *
Bailey hands me a steaming cup of tea. Trembling, I wrap my hands around it and set it on my knees. I’m on the beater couch, curled under a throw blanket in the back of the café, and she is nursing me into feeling better. I can’t go home yet because Dad might be there. He would demand answers about my swollen lip and inability to breathe. Besides, I feel emotionally sick to my stomach. I will never forgive Dante for this. Or myself for failing Colin.
Bailey knows what I’ve been through and sits quietly while I sniffle and wipe my tears. She contemplates ways to cheer me up. There’s no use for it; I’ve lost a soul that I shouldn’t have tried to save in the first place. What else is there to say?
The café is packed with out-of-towners from the carnival who’ve hung around to hear a popular band that’s busy setting up in a corner. My lip hurts and I slurp my tea, garnering pissy stares from nearby tables. Bailey says, “Dafuq you lookin’ at?” and the tourists turn away. She scoots closer and lowers her voice.
“Listen, you know I’m sorry about what you went through, right? You’ve got some chutzpah, I’ll say that. But I’m not one to piss and moan when life takes a shit on me, and I don’t think you are either. So …” She throws a cautious look around but no one is paying attention to us now. “I’ve been working on a little something to help you. See, as far as I can tell, you’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Trying to do everything on your own. Dante said something the other day that got me thinking.”
“Bailey, I don’t want to talk about Dante. Ever. Don’t mention him to me. Ever. I am never, ever going to see him again. Got it?”
“Wow, don’t go all Taylor Swift on me, just hear me out. It’s important. So anyway, the demon who can’t be named said it was too bad you couldn’t be in two places at once. Remember? Good. Well … he was wrong.” She gives me a wily smile, and I recall how sneaky she’s been acting at school lately.
“This have anything to do with that secret you’ve been keeping?”
“Oh yeah. Now brace yourself ’cause this will totally freak your bean.” She takes a deep, excitable breath and begins. “You know how the McCarthy twins are exactly the same?”
“Hence the word twins,” I grumble.
“Yeah, well, they weren’t always.”
“Always what?”
“Twins. See, several years ago, Gracie McCarthy’s husband died. She was really distraught. Devastated, actually. She was deep in a depression when she was approached by a witch who offered to help her. Well, the witch was kinda new and subpar and screwed the whole thing up. And then—”
“Screwed what up?” I ask, bypassing my shock that she would speak so casually about a witch.
“Bringing the dead Mr. McCarthy back to life. Now stop interrupting. Anyway, Mr. McCarthy actually came back as a duck. You know, you’ve met him. Roy?”
I sit very still and stare at her. “Roy … the duck … is Mr. McCarthy?” I let this sink in. “But wait, there’s—”
“I’m getting to that part!” She’s snippy because I can’t keep my mouth shut. “So there is Gracie with Mr. McCarthy, who is now a very crabby old duck. Gracie is none too happy about the situation, so she and the witch repeat the process and create a pal for Daffy and … prest-o change-o, Siegfried is born. More or less.”
Siegfried and Roy. Holy shit.
My eyes swell with disbelief, and then it occurs to me that Bailey might be going to extremes to distract me from my problems. I don’t want to believe any of this but she seems so convincing.
“So all is well for Mr. McCarthy; he has someone to futz around with, but Gracie is lonely. Her depression nosedives, so the witch takes it to the next level. They get help from a friend who’s willing to make an avatar for Gracie. I’m fuzzy on the details but whatever they did worked, because out of nowhere, Gracie’s long-lost sister shows up. Only she doesn’t have a long-lost sister. They created a double for her. And that’s what we’re going to do for you.”
I flinch like I’ve been knocked upside the head. The band in the corner has completed their sound check and begins their first cover song, “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandy Warhols. I gaze absently at them, and then slowly shift back to Bailey. She’s waiting to see if the verbal lobotomy has affected my speech.
“You … can’t be serious,” I say, but she nods so I sit back and consider. With everything I’ve seen since moving to this town, it doesn’t seem that unbelievable. “But … who’s the witch?” I ask, and she leans closer and whispers, “Abigail Monroe,” and I nearly drop my teacup. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I yell over the music. She laughs.
“Why do you think I got her and the twins together to put a hex on your ex-boyfriend?”
“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.” I smirk. “But … how do you know all this?”
“Well, it just so happened to be my best friend they went to for help. Her Christian name is Alice White but her street name is High Alice. She’s clairvoyant, among other things. Seriously gifted. She was the school photographer last year and worked for the Gazette. But she graduated and left town.”
I took her job?
“What do you mean her ‘street name’?”
She shrugs. “Just how everybody knows her. Most people thought she was a stoner. But really she had visions and shit. Serious kinda stuff.”
I think back to all the times I’ve seen the McCarthy twins. They always seemed happy enough. So as much as the idea of having another me running around gives me the willies, I think it’s worth a try.
“So what’s your plan?” I ask, now fully invested in the possibility that I might have a way to handle school and become a spirit walker. If I have a double to do the academic heavy lifting, I can concentrate on my sessions with Rama and the demon hunters. I’ll be a spirit walker by Christmas.
“First step is to talk to Abigail and the twins, which I did tonight. They said we definitely need High Alice or we’re risking a duck infestation. They don’t know where to find her but said her great-aunt will know.”
I slump, feeling the impending voice of doom. “And just where in the world would we find the great-aunt of High Alice?” I sound a bit sarcastic, like we’ve been sent to find the Wizard of Oz.
“You tell me. You work for her.” Bailey grins because she’s toying with me.
“Are you joking? Miss Minnie is High Alice’s great-aunt? Well, that’s convenient. So, will Miss Minnie know where she is?”
“Uh, yeah. Miss Minnie’s clairvoyant, too.”
I scoff, completely stunned. And then I remember all the odd comments Miss Minnie has made over the past months, how she seemed to know things she shouldn’t. Even my first day in Haven Hurst when she knew me before I introduced myself.
“He’s only her dad.”
“Wait—did High Alice tell the sheriff that I was coming to town the night he pulled me over and gave me that bogus ticket?” Bailey grins. “Holy shit! Are you freaking kidding me?”
“High Alice told me she had a replacement coming for her old job. Said she was leaving Miss Minnie and the Gazette in good hands. Guess she knew about you well ahead of time. She must’ve told her dad before she left town.” Bailey shrugs like it’s no biggie.
The night Sheriff White pulled me over I wasn’t speeding, so he told me to buckle up my dog. I always thought it was a pretty flimsy excuse for stopping someone. But if he hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t have reached the accident when I did. I wouldn’t have seen Michael in spirit form.
Hmm.
Bailey plops her feet onto the coffee table and crosses her ankles. “Look, I know it’s a lot to swallow. But the way I see it, we’ve got the perfect opportunity to help you become a spirit walker. And the next time you see a lost soul, you’ll be ready, right?”
I think of Colin Firth, crying out for help only to fade into a black smudge at my fingertips. I was so upset and furious with Dante that I wouldn’t let him speak to me afterward. The anguish that I felt then returns like a tornado inside me. Dante and Michael have gone out of their way to stop me from becoming a spirit walker. Well, boys, comrade tchotchke has a plan of her own.
* * *
Bailey and I take my tea on the road and shuffle down to the Gazette. It’s slow going because I have copious amounts of pain to deal with. The first night of Winter Carnival is winding down and most everyone has gone. We don’t expect the office to be open but Bailey wants to leave a note on the door. When the paperboy comes in around four a.m., he’ll find a note that says we want to speak to Miss Minnie first thing in the morning. That’s the plan.