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Authors: Eliza Crewe

Tags: #soul eater, #Medea, #beware the crusaders, #YA fiction, #supernatural, #the Hunger, #family secrets, #hidden past

ARC: Cracked (23 page)

BOOK: ARC: Cracked
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“It’s one of the most important spells we have. Crusader Puchard’s been doing it for the last fifty years and he makes it look so easy, but… well, it’s really not. I’m not sure we can go through with it.”

Well, that explains why she pulled her nose out of the book – she’s given up.

She continues, bossiness creeping in to replace the uncertainty. She looks to Chi and Uri. “I think we should find Luke while Meda’s still human and wait to do the spell until we’re back at school.” Slight hitch – for all we know there is no school any more. “Or wherever we go after, and have a Crusader do it.”

Chi shrugs, his mouth full of food, and I’m not sure Uri’s listening. He’s bouncing around – playing hopscotch by himself? Regardless, he doesn’t look like he’s going to object to Jo’s plan.

It’s up to me then. I won’t be going back to the Templars with them, so if I want the powers to fight off the demon hordes, I need Jo to do it. “How dangerous though? Will I die? Or will it just hurt?”

She considers that, her head rocking slightly back and forth. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a mis-spell, but then, no one’s ever done it wrong as far as I know. If someone has – well, it would be in the histories, which I don’t exactly have right now.”

“But how far are you from finishing the translation?” Chi asks for me.

She doesn’t look at him and answers stiffly. They really need to get over each other. “Not too far off. I’d say I have about three-quarters of it done. But it’s written in a cross-contaminated version of medieval French and Latin. I’d need a dictionary to finish it. An obscure dictionary.”

Dead end. I shift it to the back-burner.

“So how are we going to find Luke, or rather, Exo Greer?” I ask.

“Google,” answers Uri. “Beacons tend to do something newsworthy – CEOs, charitable organizations, scientists, valedictorians.”

“We don’t have a computer,” Jo points out.

“We could buy one,” offers Uri.

“I don’t want to blow all our money. We don’t know how long this is going to take. Then we’d have to find internet somewhere, set it up…”

“We could steal one,” suggests Chi.

“Really? We’re going to become muggers?”

A light dawns in my head. “Nope. We need a computer with internet access and a dictionary. I know where we can get both – at the same time.” They all turn to me. “The library. And it’s all free.” I wait for applause.

“It’s after midnight,” Jo says flatly.

I’m undaunted. “Better yet, no crowds,” I say. “And a little B&E is better than mugging someone, right?” Yes, folks, I am talking to the good guys.

“OK,” Jo agrees slowly. “How do we find a library?”

“One that has medieval French dictionaries,” adds Chi.

“Easy,” I answer. “A university library. There’s at least two I can think of in DC – American and Georgetown. And, as a plus, they’re both already full of disreputable-looking teens.”

We’re all suitably impressed with my brilliance.

I actually spend a lot of time in libraries. When you’re a homeless drifter, they’re like a living room away from home. I also like to break in and sleep there – lots of reading material and comfortable couches.

Plan in mind, we all climb reluctantly back on to our motorcycles. Jo stopped studying once it got dark and now drives Uri on his motorcycle. They worked out a system where he is the legs, and she is the of-age licensed driver. It feels a little surreal to be worrying about something as common as the cops.

As we get close to American University, in a stroke of good luck, we see a sign for Wesley Seminary. A seminary is bound to have access to the dictionary Jo needs – she is translating a religious book after all – and a small seminary would probably have a much less impressive security system than a place like Georgetown. We follow the green signs.

The seminary is (or maybe was) part of American University and squats on a corner of its small campus. The building could have shared an architect with the Templar school – a cement-and-brick box with narrow windows. The building is silent; this corner of campus is dead at 2am on a cold Monday in March. Our motorcycles are painfully loud, so we drive past and park a few blocks from where we intend to commit our crime.

As a general rule, people tend to not alarm windows that no mere human can reach, which is great for those of us who are not mere humans. Or even for those of us who are pretending to be mere human who hang out with others who aren’t mere human. Chi climbs an obliging tree, puts on Uri’s helmet, wraps his arms in his leather jacket, and dives the ten feet right through a second-storey window, shattering it on his helmet. The rest of us crouch in the bushes, but when no police or security comes, we climb up the lowered rope. I pretend to struggle and feel ridiculous. And, strangely, guilty.

The second floor is a long rectangle filled with tables, shelves of books and study carrels. One wall is lined with glass-windowed study rooms, and a door marked “Technical Services” that probably leads to offices. We take the stairs down to the first floor, which has a circulation desk and, what we really need, a bank of computers.

Jo pulls up the catalogue and finds the dictionaries she needs, then heads upstairs. She says something about needing light and looking for an interior office with no windows. Chi, Uri and I stay to Google the crap out of Exo Greer.

Round one turns up nothing. Fortunately, I am rather adept at finding people. Ghosts can be very clear on some things but annoyingly vague on others – like the exact current location of their murderer. The library has access to some newspaper databases, so I start searching specifically through local DC news sources. Twenty minutes later, I hit gold. It’s a local neighborhood newspaper called the
DC Townie
from two years ago. Turns out Exo is a girl’s name. Really, it shouldn’t be anyone’s.

 

St Albina’s Orphanage Seeks Runaway

Local St Albina’s Orphanage reports that ward Exo Greer, twelve, disappeared late Wednesday night. Greer has a history of escape attempts, so her custodians do not suspect foul play. The girl suffers from schizophrenia as well as Tourette’s Syndrome and requires medication and constant care. If you see this girl, call 911. Do not attempt to approach.

 

Next to the article is what must be a school photo but more closely resembles a mug shot. A greasy-haired pre-teen girl in a black sweatshirt glares from the page.

Great. We’re searching for a mentally ill runaway. She could be anywhere. In fact, the only information we have is where she is not – St Albina’s.

I share the information with Chi and Uri, but they’re less worried than I am.

“She has to be in Washington, DC,” Chi explains. “Remember, Luke is on assignment with her and he had access to the Beacon Map. If the headmaster wrote Washington, DC, then it must be Washington, DC.”

Now that we have some more information, we start researching St Albina’s. Maybe she was caught and taken back. Interestingly the orphanage was in the news quite a lot following the girl’s escape. Former employees were discovered to have been embezzling money and another one was caught on film abusing children. Overall a pretty nasty place. Following the scandal, the place was shut down – another dead end, we can’t go there to ask questions.

When we exhaust all our options, Chi and I decide to check on Jo’s progress. Uri stays behind, still researching. Jo is locked in a back office with a bunch of dictionaries spread out around her.

“How’s it coming?” Chi asks and Jo holds up a hand for us to wait. She finishes writing something down, then looks up at me – not Chi.

“I think I almost have it… but I still don’t think we should go through with it.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“It’s not just some quick hocus-pocus, it’s some serious magic. And…” she finally looks at Chi, “do you remember all the oaths that we took the night of the ceremony?”

Chi thinks. “Yeah, blood swears to dedicate our lives to the Order, and all. So?”

Wait a minute, what?

“Well, those aren’t part of the ceremony. I mean they are, but not part of this spell. They’re separate.” She’s looking at Chi, waiting for him to understand.

“So?”

“So I don’t have those,” she says, frustrated.

“So what?”

I know “what” and it makes me very happy. No blood-oaths for this little monster.

Jo gives up and rolls her eyes. “So we’re going to be giving Crusader powers to someone who has no obligation to the Order. Do you get it now, genius?”

So much for being best friends. I am all righteous rage for about five seconds, but it’s hard to maintain when I know she’s right. I pretend injury anyway. But my reaction is nothing to Chi’s.

He explodes. “You know what, Jo? I might not be a ‘genius’, but I’m not some idiot leper either.” He steps closer to her, and she stands, staggering a little in her haste, wanting to be on equal footing, I guess. “But you know what? I’d rather risk trusting someone once in a while, than storm around telling people what dirt I think they are.” He’s inches from her face now. “I put up with it from you because you once were my best friend in the whole universe, because I keep hoping that one day, you’ll stop being such a twisted bitch and become who you once were.” He waves his hands and a bitter bark of laughter escapes him. “That given enough time you’ll get over it. But I won’t stand here and let you treat Meda like she is some kind of evil monster. That you would rather she dies than trust her.”

The color drains from Jo’s face, but Chi isn’t done. “You don’t deserve to be a Crusader – and it isn’t because you don’t have the legs, but because you don’t have the heart.”

Jo is stricken. She looks at me and I flinch away from her expression. She’s right not to trust me. I’m not trustworthy, I am evil. I am dirt, but Chi crushed her for me. I’m the one who belongs under his feet.

Rage spent, Chi looks as guilty as I feel. If her hurt makes me feel this way, there’s no way he’s immune. His voice softens, “Jo–”

She cringes away from him, shaking her head, then shoves past him, running away.

Chi facepalms and makes a frustrated sound. He kicks the desk, then sweeps his arm across it, throwing everything to the floor. Man version of tears, I think.

I love good torture as much as the next demon, but this is getting ridiculous. Jo spends her days hurting the man she loves in an attempt not to hurt him and Chi wanders around baffled, setting himself up again and again for her crushing blows, not understanding why his best friend keeps kicking him down. For him, it must be like a body-snatcher stole her away. She walks and talks, but she’s not Jo. Not his Jo. But he can’t stay away. They are tied together and, the more one struggles to be free, the more it hurts the other.

I’m pretty sure I’m about to violate every BFF girl code out there, but from what I’ve seen on TV no one seems to take girl code very seriously, anyway. Besides, for once I have good intentions: these two need to get out of their own way.

“Chi,” I say and wait until I have his attention. He stops his vicious desk attack and leans heavily on it instead. He turns to look at me. I take a deep breath. “Jo’s in love with you.”

I think I could have hit Chi with a baseball bat and gotten a lesser reaction. Under other circumstances, the expression on his face would be funny. Actually, it still is funny – bug eyes, gaping mouth and skin an odd shade of puce.

“Go kiss and make up.”

His brain starts functioning again and he straightens. “What?”

“Kiss her.”

“Why would – I mean… That doesn’t…” he runs his hand through his hair, making it stand wildly.

“Sorry, was I being unclear?”

“Um, but–”

“Kiss. Her.”

“Are you insane?” He looks hurt, like I jabbed him with a stick. “She hates me.”

Wow. Really. I sigh – it seems I must spell it out. “She’s in love with you. She doesn’t want to be because of the whole Crusader-fighting-couple thing. She thinks you won’t want her fighting by your side – too weak.” I tap my leg.

He just stands there. The gears in his brain lurch unevenly as he tries to process. “Does not compute” flashes on his forehead.

Maybe if I try in Latin? “Iss-kay er-hay.” OK, so it’s only pig Latin. Sue me.

“But–”

Maybe in song? “
You know you wanna kiss the girl –
whoa-whoa!”
The Little Mermaid
-style.

“Uggggggggh!” He throws up his hands and stomps away. Which would be great except Jo had stomped off in the opposite direction. Ah well, there’s only so much I can do.

Jo comes back minutes later, red-eyed and set-jawed. I feel sick.

“Jo–” I don’t know what I was planning to say, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t get any further.

“No, Meda, he’s right.” She fingers her half of the necklace. “I do trust you.” Her eyes meet mine and I have to fight not to look away. She sets her jaw. “Let’s do it.”

And we will. Because I need to protect myself from the demons.

It’s not because I can’t bear to admit the truth to her.

I have done far worse things, I tell myself. This is nothing. But at this moment, it doesn’t feel that way.

Chi comes back with Uri in tow as I am cleaning a space on the floor. I explain the decision because Jo refuses to even look at Chi, let alone talk to him. Chi, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off Jo. He’s a scientist searching for evidence to support a crazy, world-changing hypothesis. His world, at least. Uri notices something big happened and looks from Chi to Jo and back again. Then he turns to me, his eyebrows near his hairline.

Great, I was hoping everyone would be distracted while casting potentially fatal spells on me.

We finish clearing a space on the floor and Jo motions me to lie down. She spends the next fifteen minutes defacing the carpet with symbols in a black Sharpie.

“These are protections. If something goes wrong… well, these might keep you from dying.”

Great.

Once that’s done, she kneels next to me. She licks her lips and swallows. “The spell consists of six parts, the first four are the hardest and it’s going to burn. You have to hold as still as possible – if we lose contact, I’ll have to redo that section. The good news is each section is half as long and half as painful as the previous. The last part is only about fifteen seconds long and hurts hardly at all, but the first…” She trails off with a wince.

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