Cheerleaders: The New Evil (10 page)

No. She was staring at a Santa Claus.

The wind ruffled his bushy white beard. His long red cap waved behind him. His eyes—his eyes glowered menacingly at Corky.

“Hey, Santa!” she cried out as she saw him raise his
hand high over his head. And then she saw the shiny dagger clasped in his hand.

No, not a dagger. A long, pointed icicle. Sharp as a dagger.

No time to move. No time to skate away.

Only time to scream as the Santa uttered a fierce grunt and started to lower the icicle to her throat.

C
orky stumbled, raised her hands as she staggered back.

The icicle fell from the Santa's hand and shattered against the ice. The Santa grabbed Corky to stop her fall.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Alex?”

“Corky, I'm really sorry. Didn't you know it was me? I was sure you recognized me!” He pulled off the white beard. She could see his face clearly now, his features expressing his concern.

“You—you really scared me!” she stammered, her chest heaving. She sucked in a deep lungful of air to steady herself.

Alex held on to her with both hands. “I didn't mean to. Really. I was just goofing. I thought you recognized me. I was so stupid, Corky. I'm sorry.”

“Why are you wearing this tacky costume?” Corky demanded, starting to feel a little more normal. “Where did you get it?”

“My dad had it up in the attic,” Alex told her. “That's why I'm late. He helped me put it on, but it took forever. I thought it would be funny.”

“Huh?” She gaped at him.

“You've been so down lately,” Alex continued. “So many weird things have happened. You
said
it was a Christmas party. I wanted to give you a laugh.”

A smile spread across Corky's face. That was so
sweet
of Alex, she thought.

Impulsively, she grabbed his head, pulled it toward hers, and kissed him. His lips felt warm against hers. She held him for a long time, kissing him, unwilling to move, unwilling to let go, wishing she could stay out on the ice with him forever.

Over his shoulder she could see Kimmy and Debra on the shore. They were both waving to her, calling to her.

Time to begin.

Corky's entire body shook with a sudden tremor of fear.

“Are you cold?” Alex asked, still holding on to her. His red Santa hat slid off his head. He turned to catch it.

“I—I want to go back,” she told him. “I have to help Debra and Kimmy.”

“Help them?”

“With the party,” she replied, starting to skate back toward the others. “We're the hosts, remember?”

“Catch you in a few minutes,” he called, strapping the white beard back over his face. “Santa is going to pay a visit on Jay.”

“Ho-ho-ho!” Corky called back. She wasn't sure Alex heard her.

She stared straight ahead as she skated toward Kimmy and Debra. They were still waving and motioning for her to hurry back.

Time to begin, she thought, feeling the heaviness return to her legs, feeling the dull dread weigh on her stomach, feeling the fear tighten her throat.

Time for the moment I've been dreading.

It's party time, Corky thought bitterly.

♦ ♦ ♦

Debra carried the candlesticks in a shoebox. Kimmy held the old book under one arm. The three girls made their way across the ice, moving away from the others.

The heavy clouds hung even lower over them. From far in the distance they heard the dull honking of geese.

Don't geese go south in the winter? Corky wondered.

No time to think about geese, she scolded herself. Kimmy and Debra moved steadily over the ice, their faces set, their eyes narrow with determination.

Hurrying to keep up with them, Corky glanced back to the shore. Where was Ivy? Corky saw several
couples skating arm in arm. She saw Jay doing his crazy dance—arms thrashing and flying above his head—in front of a group of kids.

And there stood Ivy at the edge of the group. Her bright red ski suit glowed like fire in the midst of all the duller colors.

When Corky turned back, Debra was already bending down to spread the candlesticks on the ice. “It's a little protected here,” she announced. “Not quite as windy as over there. But you two will still have to help block the wind so I can get the candles lit.”

Corky squatted down and helped Debra place the candles in a perfect ring. She kept glancing across the ice at Ivy.

Does Ivy have any idea what we're about to do? Corky wondered. Does she have any idea that we're about to chant words to call spirits forth?

The plan was so simple. Simple and terrifying at the same time.

Light the ring of candles. Chant the words. If the evil is inside Ivy, she will be drawn forward, pulled across the ice to them.

If Ivy is pulled by the chant, Corky and her two friends will know for sure, know that she is the one possessed by the evil.

“We'll hold Ivy down, sit on her if we have to,” Kimmy had said when they made their plan in Debra's room. “We'll knock her out. Do anything we have to. Then we'll break through the ice and drown the evil again. Drown poor Ivy.”

Ivy had to drown for the evil to leave her body,
Corky knew. Corky knew it
too
well. She had drowned for the same reason, had drowned and been revived once the evil was in the water.

“We'll drown Ivy, then revive her once she's free of the evil, once she's Ivy again.”

It had seemed a terrifying plan when they made it. Now, as Debra struggled to light the candles, it seemed even more terrifying to Corky. She felt a wave of panic wash over her, paralyze her, tighten every muscle so that she had to struggle to breathe.

Do we have a choice?

No. Corky answered her own question.

Ivy will kill us all—if we don't drown the evil now.

Corky glanced back across the ice. She saw that Ivy had stepped away from the crowd. She was turned toward Corky and her friends.

Did she suspect? Did she have a feeling they were about to trap her? Was she moving toward them—to stop them?

“Hurry,” Corky whispered.

Blown by the wind, a candle flickered out. Debra relit it, the lighter trembling in her hand.

And now the candles were all lit again, their flames leaning first in one direction, then the other. Kimmy handed Debra the old book. Debra turned the pages quickly, held the book open between them, and pointed to the passage.

The three of them were on their knees on the ice, Debra between Corky and Kimmy. She held the book by the spine in one hand, resting it against her legs. Holding a long red candle in her other hand, she
lowered it over the candles, slowly circling the ring of fire with it.

“Come forward, spirit!” Debra cried, her eyes on Ivy.

“Come forward, spirit!”

Corky squinted through the deepening gray. Ivy stood by herself, hands at her sides.

Was she watching?

Debra started and the others joined in, chanting in low voices, muffled by the steady brush of the wind. Chanting as Debra slowly, rhythmically, moved the candle over the ring of flames.

Chanting.

Calling the evil spirit forward. Calling it to them.

Their voices grew louder, rising over the wind as they continued to chant. And as they repeated the words, Corky's eyes were locked on Ivy.

Were the words drawing her to them? Was she coming across the ice?

Yes.

Here she comes, Corky saw.

“K
eep chanting,” Debra whispered. “Don't stop. It's working.”

Corky and her two friends lowered their faces to the book and continued the chant. Their voices were a low murmur against the rush of wind over the ice.

A soft rumbling made Corky glance up.

What was that sound? she wondered.

Thunder?

A candlestick toppled over as the ice began to shake.

Deep cracks spider-webbed over the surface.

“Hey—the ice!” Corky shouted.

The rumbling grew to a roar. The ice trembled, tilted, shook.

Corky heard a
crack.
Like a board breaking.

The candles fell onto their sides. A hard tremor shook the book from Debra's hand. Corky saw the fear on her friends' faces as the ice at their feet split open.

Is it an
earthquake?

That was Corky's last thought as the roar grew louder, louder—until it drowned out all thinking.

A searing pain shot through her head as the deafening roar rattled her eardrums. She pressed her hands to her ears. And shut her eyes—as the explosion tossed her back.

Blown off her knees, she shot backward. She opened her eyes in time to watch Kimmy and Debra tossed back beside her, tossed by the force of the invisible blast.

Her arms shot up helplessly. She landed hard on her back. Felt the power of the explosion roar over her.

Struggling to breathe, Corky stared as the ice split open farther, rumbling, roaring. A swirling mass of thick black smoke funneled up from beneath the surface.

The smoke rose up, spinning, spinning like a cyclone, and a sour stench filled the air. Corky gasped as the sickening odor swept over her.

She grabbed on to Kimmy and watched in horror as the black smoke whirled up, up from the depths of the river, and swept over the shore.

A malodorous blanket of black fog, it blew over the shocked skaters, over Ivy, standing alone, over Jay
and his friends, huddled on the ice, over Heather and Lauren at the cider table.

The sour smoke darkened the ice, blackened the sky. Corky heard the frightened cries of birds as they fluttered off their tree perches, the shrill shriek of the ducks and geese around the river's curve.

The ice blistered and burned. The smoke spewed up thicker, faster, swirling up over the shivering trees, up to the clouds.

“What have we
done?”
Corky cried, still sprawled on the ice clinging to Kimmy.

“The evil—it
wasn't
in Ivy!” Kimmy wailed.

“We were wrong! We were wrong!” Debra shouted over the roaring smoke. “It wasn't in Ivy!”

“Our chant called it up!” Corky realized. “We brought the evil to life! We've
unleashed
it!”