Mystify (15 page)

I don’t know the answers. I just know we’re supposed to do something. So I concentrate. I think about getting past this shield, breaking it down or possibly just getting closer to Franklin’s body. There has to be a way to get this Darkness out of him. Maybe if we’d done that when Mr. Lyle was possessed, this would all be over. But now is no time for regrets.

Closing my eyes, I call on everything that’s inside me. I pull from everything I know: we are the Mystyx, our power stems from the goddess Styx and her river that was toxic, we
are chosen to fight this Darkness, to win the battle between good and evil. We have to do something.

And as I crack my eyes open again, my body trembling with power, I feel the heat at my side. Spears of light come from each of us, from our birthmarks, cutting through the dark smoke. On impulse I take a step, and then another, and when I’m not knocked down again, I break into a run. Jake follows my lead, and we both crash into Franklin’s body at the same time. Only by then, the body is reduced to nothing.

Dark smoke lifts into the air, trickling through our grasp and headed upward to the sky. The laughter sounds and echoes throughout the wooded area.

“You won’t win!” it says, and all the smoke is swooped up into a thick cloud that floats away.

We’re all too stunned to move. So we just sit or stand in that clearing in the woods. Gradually the air clears, the sky, which was a dismal gray, opens to a wan blue. The smoke is gone, but we all act as if it’s still there, as if this thing that’s taunting us is still right here. We’re so quiet, not really sure what to say.

Jake wants to move closer to Krystal, to touch her, to make sure she’s all right. But he remains still where he stands, slipping his hands into his pockets. My heart instantly goes out to him as I think I know what he’s feeling. Wanting somebody but not being able to just say it, to just be with them. I’m thinking of Antoine again and the argument we had. He’s right about me playing games and being ashamed of being with him. I shouldn’t be. He’s a cool guy and his aunt’s really nice. I shouldn’t care what my parents or anyone else will say.

“He won’t stop.” Lindsey breaks the silence. Leaves and twigs crunch beneath her feet as she stands, reaching a hand out to help up Krystal, who was still sitting on the ground beside her. “He’ll come back because our power is what keeps
him from gaining his strength. As long as we’re alive, he can’t get what he wants.”

“And what’s that?” Krystal asks, brushing the dirt and crap off her clothes. “I mean, what is it that he wants that we can stop him from getting?”

“More power,” Jake says quietly. “There are three things worth fighting for—money, power and respect. I doubt he needs the money or the respect. It’s the power that’s driving him. But somebody’s keeping it from him.”

Krystal nods, her hands and attention having gone from her mussed clothes to Jake. “Somebody created a final barrier so that he wouldn’t be able to get that power. Ever. We’re that barrier. We were created to stop him. But by who?”

“Styx,” I say. “She did something, cursed the weather or something so that we would be created to fight him when he came for the power.”

We all take a minute to let that sink in. I think we know it’s right. Some of the holes we’ve had in our theory are finally filling up.

“Created by a goddess,” Lindsey says on a whoosh of breath. “Cool.”

I laugh, and then so do Jake and Krystal. I know it’s probably not the most opportune time to do such a thing, but it just sort of bubbles out, and before I know it or can stop it, everybody is laughing. In the midst of all this unknowing and turmoil, only Lindsey could think it was cool.

And while I know it’s far from over, it feels good to have this one moment, alone with the Mystyx, laughing, for once.

Later
that evening when I arrive at the office building on Main Street, I see that Lindsey is already there.

“Mr. Bryant’s already left for the evening. He seemed kind of nervous, something about meeting bigwigs in Washington,” she tells me as we creep around to the side of the building.

It’s really dark out tonight. Even though it’s only like ten minutes to eight, the sky is already fully dark as if it were midnight. Before I left the house I heard on the six o’clock news that there was a thunderstorm watch. But it doesn’t seem like thunderstorm weather to me.

“Who is he meeting with?” I ask.

Lindsey shakes her head. “I couldn’t get that much.”

When I look back at her she’s frowning. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she says, but I don’t really believe her.

She looks a little distant, like she’s thinking about something, trying to figure it out. I don’t know what it is, so I figure we’ll deal with the matter at hand, then deal with her personal problems.

“Have you heard from Krystal and Jake?” I hadn’t talked to either of them since we’d left the woods and gone our separate ways. I’d offered everyone a ride home, but they declined. I think we kind of wanted a moment alone to think about what had just happened. So I didn’t push.

“We’re here,” Jake says from behind me.

I turn and see him and Krystal walking towards us.

“So what’s the game plan?” Krystal asks, but she’s not looking at me, so I figure we must still be on the outs.

“Mr. Bryant’s already gone, so it’s clear for us to go in. Did you bring the flash drive?” she asks Jake.

“Yeah, I got it.” He pulls it out of his pocket and shows us the small black device that looks just like the one in Mr. Bryant’s office.

“What about the security guards? How do we get past them?” Krystal says.

“Shoot, didn’t think about them.” Jake frowns.

“Sasha, you go,” Lindsey suggests. “Use your power to get into the office. Nobody will even know you’re in the building.”

“Ah, okay,” I say, not sure I’m liking the plan where I do this alone. Still, I hold out my hand for the flash drive.

He gives it to me and says, “Be careful.”

“No problem,” I say, like sure, I teleport into offices and play the switcheroo game every day.

I take a few steps back from them and close my eyes. In seconds, I’m in Mr. Bryant’s office by myself.

Because it’s so dark outside, it’s even darker in here. The last thing I want to do is turn on a light and risk somebody just happening to drive by and see it on, so I’m working on memory alone as I walk around.

“Ow!” I hit my knee on the desk that I knew was there but misjudged the distance.

Okay, so the file cabinet was across the room from the desk. I turn around, keeping my hands behind me so I can feel the desk. I’m thinking about seven steps were what I took before I was standing right next to Jake, who was near the file cabinet.

Counting off, I stop right at seven and reach my hands out in front of me. I don’t feel anything.

“Crap.” I sigh and think of what I’m going to do next. Nothing bright is coming to mind. I just keep returning to the idea of turning on that lamp.

But then my side starts to warm and I start to smile. This power really is starting to work in conjunction with my emotions. My shirt is tucked into my jeans, so I hurriedly pull it out, bringing it around the front of me and tying a quick knot with the excess material. I’m glowing now, or at least my
M
is, and the fluorescent pink light is giving me just enough illumination to see.

The cabinet is just to my left about another step or two. I’m happy to learn my memory wasn’t that far off. I don’t want to waste any more time, so I move to the cabinet and pull open the top drawer. My fingers quickly whisper over the files, stopping on the one marked “Project S.” I’m still trying to figure out why
S?
Maybe I’m just so hung up on our
M. S
could stand for supernatural, I guess.

That’s what I’m thinking as I pull the file free from the cabinet and open it up. The flash drive had been in a small pouch in the front inside flap of the file folder. “Had been” being the operative phrase.

It’s not there.

My fingers move over the pouch, but it’s empty.

Flipping through the pages to the back of the file folder, I see another pouch, but that’s empty, too.

I want to curse or scream. Or both. Instead I simply sigh.

Where is it? Did Mr. Bryant know that we were in here before? Did he know that we were on to him?

Closing the file cabinet, I’m thinking of how I’m going to tell the others that this little operation was a bust when I appear again in front of them.

“Did you get it?” Jake asks first.

The others look at me expectantly, and I feel like such a heel to be bearing the bad news. “No. It wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t there? Where is it?”

I sigh. “If I knew that, Jake, I’d teleport there and get it.”

“Bryant took it,” Krystal says. “You think he knew someone was in his office? What if there’re cameras in there?”

We’re quiet because, the fact is, Jake and I never gave that possibility any thought.

Then I shake my head. “If Mr. Bryant knew I was in his office, I’m sure he would have told my dad.”

Jake smirks. “And your dad would have done what?”

“Let’s just say I’m sure I wouldn’t be out here with you tonight if he knew.”

And speaking of my dad…

“We should go back to my place.”

“For what?” Jake and Krystal ask in unison.

“Because I think that’s where we can get some more answers.” Dinner had been already prepared by the time I’d made it home from school. But Casietta hadn’t been there. Her and I were supposed to talk when I came home, but she’d conveniently disappeared. I hadn’t been too pressed about it at the time because I’d wanted to be alone in my room until it was time for me to slip out and come downtown. But now I’m beginning to wonder what she’s hiding.

“I don’t want to go to your house,” Krystal says adamantly.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Lindsey says. “Look, we’re all in this together. If there are answers back at Sasha’s house, then that’s where we should go.”

Krystal rolls her eyes. Jake shrugs. And I finally lead the way.

Nobody greeted us when we walked through the front door. And we’d been in the family room for more than fifteen minutes before Casietta came in.

“Your parents are out for the night,” she said, glancing around the room.

The furniture in here is all Italian leather, soft to the touch, comfortable to sit on but the weirdest shade of green I’ve ever seen. It never fails to amaze me, when I come in here, how these colors don’t quite seem to mix. The thick rug covering glossy hardwood floors is dark orange, almost brown, I guess. The curtains are a combo of the two, and the paintings throughout add even more colors. It is like this is the one room my mother forgot to have professionally decorated.

Jake and Krystal sit next to each other on the love seat, while Lindsey moves about in her usual graceful manner. Occasionally her hand reaches, touches, the back of a chair, a pillow, the base of the coffee-colored lamp on the end table near the window. She has something on her mind, something other than what happened tonight. I’m almost positive of that fact.

Casietta stands in the middle of the room now. Her face looks worried, and she’s rubbing her hands together in front of her.

I am about to say something when Mouse comes in. My mouth closes instantly because Mouse never comes into the house. Ever.

But he is here now, closing the door quietly behind him.

“He’s taken another one,” he says solemnly, looking at Casietta.

So I look at Casietta, hoping for a clue to what he’s talking about.

“That bus was coming back from a religious retreat. They
were just children learning how to do good. It’s not right,” she says, turning away, then walking toward the window where Lindsey is now standing.

The minute Casietta’s close, Lindsey reaches out a hand and touches her arm.

“Your grief is overwhelming. But your fear is greater. What is it that’s scaring you so?”

With an astonished look, Casietta glares at Lindsey, then her whole body seems to deflate as she sighs. “You have the power to see my thoughts. I wondered what you’d bring to them when you came.”

“You knew Lindsey was a Mystyx?” I ask.

“I know who and what all of you are. The question is how did you know?”

Jake shrugs. “We found my great-grandmother’s journal and then my grandfather told us some stuff.”

Casietta chuckles. “I knew Louis would never be able to keep his mouth closed. Talks too much he does. Always has.”

“You know Jake’s grandfather?” Krystal asks incredulously.

“Yes,” Casietta says, nodding her head. There’s a swishing sound as she starts to walk from the window back to the center of the room. I think it’s the nylons that she always wears beneath whatever floral dress she chooses for the day. “We share a common goal.”

“And what’s that?” I ask.

“To protect you. All of you.”

This is Mouse speaking in that eerily deep voice of his that doesn’t really sound like English but isn’t any foreign accent that I’ve been able to figure out.

“How are you going to protect us?” Jake asks.

Lindsey chimes in, “And what are you protecting us from?”

Casietta takes a deep breath, then releases it. “She was supposed to explain it all to you. But things are moving a lot faster than any of us thought they would.”

“He is ready,” Mouse says.

I’m still amazed that he’s in here. And he looks so uncomfortable. Actually, he looks like he’s taking up more space than is available in this room. Which is crazy since this is no small room. Still, Mouse looks oddly out of place.

“She knew this would happen. She knew he’d come for them. They’re all that’s stopping him.”

Krystal clears her throat and raises her hand like she’s in a classroom, and they—Casietta and Mouse—are the teachers. “Um, excuse me, but can somebody tell us what you’re talking about?”

“You know what we are,” I start saying, even though it’s more than obvious that they know. I’m just trying to make sense of all this. How have Casietta and Mouse known all along? And do my parents know? “You’ve known all along and you never said anything to me.”

Casietta begins shaking her head, the tight bun at the bottom not moving an inch. The droopy skin of her cheeks moves a bit, but her eyes remain steady as she stares at me. “They come to me in the middle of the night and wake me. They say, ‘take her, you must take care of her.’ I don’t know what to do, but then she came to me, with so much bright light. She told me what would eventually happen and I believed her. I say I will take care of you.”

“Who is ‘she’? My mother?”

“Oh, no.” Casietta starts shaking her head adamantly. “No, Señora, she did not know. Señor say it’s not true. He think it is all not real.”

“Wait a minute, I don’t understand. If my mother didn’t tell you to take care of me, who did?”

Casietta’s gaze goes to Mouse who looks grim as he folds his arms over his chest.

“You have to go to her and ask for the truth. It is time. She will tell you.”

“Okay, is anybody else in here tired of trying to figure out who ‘she’ is?” Jake says.

“I mean, really, why can’t you just tell us?” Krystal counters.

Lindsey just shakes her head. “They are bound by some kind of oath to keep quiet. It’s like a shield up in their minds, blocking it out, so that just in case they were ever tempted to tell all, they can’t.”

With a sneaking suspicion of what’s about to happen, I add, “Or they’re just blocking you out.”

Walking from where I was standing behind the couch, I stop right in front of Mouse. Saying I have to almost break my neck looking up at him is not an exaggeration. But I do it anyway because I want him to know how serious I am about this. “Who is ‘she’? Is it Styx?”

“She asked you to come to her.” I hear Casietta’s voice from behind. “The message on the computer says for you to come to her for your answers. You read the curse on the letter so she knew it was time you all know the truth.”

I’m going to have serious neck injuries after this night. I whip around fast to see Casietta. “You’re talking about Fatima? She’s the witch I contacted that lives in Bridgeport.”

“No witch.” Casietta nods. “Just a messenger.”

“Contact her again, Sasha,” Krystal says, coming to the edge of the chair, looking at me with a silent plea in her eyes. “Send her another email or something. Just get us some answers.”

Okay, no pressure, right? Running my fingers through
my hair, I try to figure out what Casietta and Mouse are telling me and what I was already thinking was true. If Fatima isn’t a witch, then who is she? Maybe our powers aren’t connected to witchcraft. Maybe everything we thought is wrong. Maybe…

“Sasha,” Casietta says. “You can contact her. You have done it before without the computer.”

Casietta, the woman who raised me in this house. The one who taught me both Spanish and English, who cleaned me up after I fell off my bike and busted both knees, the one who talked to me about boys and girls and reproduction, the one…who was right there after that first time. She’s known all along. She watched me grow, knowing that one day it would come to this.

“You mean astral project? That’s how I can contact her?”

Casietta nods her head in agreement.

Then I’m beginning to understand. “I’ve talked to her there before.”

“Yes,” Casietta says. “You can do it again.”

Mouse takes a step forward. “But this time we will watch you. He is ready and he will act the moment he knows you are there.”

“We will all watch you this time to make sure you come back.
Si?
”

Casietta’s nodding around the room, waiting for everyone to agree with her. Krystal is already standing up, shaking her head positively.

“Yeah, we’ll be right here,” Lindsey says.

Jake stands last, looking a little uncertain but joining in with everyone else.