Necromancing the Stone (11 page)

She appeared with a grin and her clipboard, but quickly lost the grin. “What’s wrong with him?” she whispered to Ramon and Haley.

“Don’t know,” Haley said, but Ramon just gave her a one-shoulder shrug, the muscles in his jaw still working.

“Are you okay?” Brooke asked. When he shook his head, she patted his back soothingly. “I bet Mrs. LaCroix wouldn’t mind if you took a few laps around the backyard and burned off some … energy.”

Ramon nodded, and Brooke escorted him out; the twitching had now gone into the muscles in his arms. His fingers jerked.

I knew this should provoke a response in me. My friend was obviously having problems. But all that came out of my mouth was, “Man, I was hoping she’d make me a sandwich or something.” Well, if you want something done … I started to get up.

Haley shoved me back down. “Yeah, not that I want to set a precedent or anything, but I think I’ll get it for you, lest you drink drain cleaner by mistake.”

“Okeydokey.”

The trio in the corner ended their conference. My mom’s face was drawn, her eyes stormy with worry as James escorted her to us.

Ashley made it about two steps toward me before her BlackBerry buzzed. She cursed when she saw the screen. “I gotta go,” she said to James. “Keep an eye on him, and I’ll check in when I can.” And with that, she opened up a vortex and disappeared, apparently in too much of a hurry to wait for the sparrows that usually accompanied her when she left. Maybe she was going to meet them halfway.

My mom slid past me and headed to the stove. The look she shot me was calm and reassuring, all trace of her worry gone, but I knew that if I got up right now and touched her, I’d feel the truth if I really wanted. An overwhelming wave of emotion would crash over me, so it’s no wonder that I stayed where I was. “She’s worried,” I whispered to the table. I knew why, of course, but the details to things kept slipping away from me, like I was trying to grab an otter with oily hands.

Not that I’m into that sort of thing.

James settled gracefully into his seat. “Yes.”

He, apparently, didn’t feel like talking, so I spent the next few minutes staring out the window, looking away from my reflection only when Haley brought me a snack: cheese, crackers, fruit.

“Sis, you’re an angel.”

“You’re welcome.” She placed a similar plate in front of James. “I figured you might need a snack too.”

He stared at the plate, making no move to eat anything. Haley frowned at him. “Look, if you don’t want it—”

“No.” The word came out too loud, and I stopped mid-chew to stare at him. My sister’s frown became more of a scowl. “I’m just not … my sincerest apologies for my lack of manners. Thank you. This looks lovely.”

Mollified, she took a seat. “You’re welcome. If there’s something wrong with my choices—”

“No, please. As I said, lovely, especially at this hour, and after we barged in unexpected.” He quickly bit into a strawberry to prove it to her. And then another. “I think these are the best strawberries I have ever tasted.”

“Why, thank you, James,” my mother said from over by the stove. “I grow them myself. With Haley’s help, of course.”

“If I may be so bold, I would love to get either your or Haley’s advice with our own garden. The gnomes aren’t much help, and I’m having a bit of a problem with—”

I snorted and shoved a cracker in my mouth. James glared at me, eyes narrow, the silver becoming flinty.

“Oooh, scary,” I said, taking another bite. “You got some brown on your nose, by the way.”

Haley stifled a giggle and, when it was obvious James didn’t understand, leaned over, whispering something in his ear. I could tell when he got it, because his eyes narrowed even more.

“What?” I tossed a strawberry in my mouth. They really were good. Logically, I knew it was bad to make James angry. I’d seen how fast he could move. For some reason, though, I didn’t seem to care. It didn’t matter, anyway. James calmed down once Haley shook her head at him and patted his arm.

Whatever. I was more concerned about my plate, which had just been whisked away. “Hey, I was eating that.”

Mom smacked the back of my head lightly and placed a mug in front of me. “Drink.”

Since I was actually pretty thirsty, I did. The tea tasted weird. Sort of a burny, cinnamony, grassy taste. I pushed it away. James pushed it back.

“Either you drink it or I will pour it down your throat. Your choice, of course. I would like to add that I’m pretty sure your mother owns a funnel.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, but I did what he said. Maybe if I kept drinking it, it would get better. It didn’t. The more I drank, the more an unpleasant aftertaste of dirt surfaced. By the end, I was kind of sleepy. I pushed the mug away and laid my head down on the wood table.

I closed my eyes. Just for a minute.

*   *   *

The sun was streaming through the window and right into my face. I turned my head, but it was still bright. It felt like my brain was wounded and trying to bash its way out of my skull, and my mouth was dry and somewhat gamy tasting. All in all, an unpleasant start to the day.

“Good morning, twinkle toes.”

I grunted into the couch cushion. “Morning, Mrs. W.” The energetic, steely-haired Mrs. W used to be my neighbor. She was feisty, and wiry, and loud. She was also a witch and a friend of my mother’s originally sent to spy on me. I didn’t hold it against her, but this morning her chipper tone was certainly grating on my nerves. It seemed like she was conspiring with the sun to make me feel worse.

“Get up. You’ve got more tea to drink.”

Ramon, who was curled up on the other couch, added, “And I’m supposed to remind you that your mother owns a funnel.” He mumbled the words directly into the cushions.

I groaned and tried to burrow deeper into the couch.

Mrs. W yanked on the back of my hoodie and pulled me onto the floor. Then she nudged me with her foot. “I believe I said get up.” Not an ounce of sympathy.

“I believe you did.” I rolled onto my side, feeling my stomach roll at the same time. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the bathroom, barely making it. I heaved for a while, but I didn’t have much in me. I knew better than to leave the bathroom just yet, though. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but I’d been hungover before, and it felt a lot like this, only whatever was wrong with me was much, much worse. When my stomach didn’t cramp again, I got up, my legs shaking and my muscles weak, and wobbled into the kitchen.

Mrs. W had a hot, stinking mug of tea ready for me. Generally, I like tea. Just not this stuff. I knew better than to say anything. I sipped at it while Mrs. W and Ramon drank their wonderful, delicious coffee. Those jerks.

“Once you’ve finished that, I’ll take you home.”

“Where is everybody?”

She leaned against the counter facing me. “Work, library, and before he ‘took his leave’ earlier, James mumbled something about having a house to run.” Mrs. W shifted uncomfortably, and I knew there was something she was avoiding.

Before I could ask, Ramon said, “You better just show him—he’s going to want to know.”

I pushed my hand through my hair. “Right, the door. I want to see how bad it was.”

With a nod, Mrs. W walked briskly out of the kitchen, and I—rather slowly and gingerly, like I’d been made out of blown glass—wobbled after her. Our journey ended at Haley’s door. You could tell it was Haley’s because she’d done a sort of collage on it with pictures she’d cut out of magazines. Mohawked rockstars and guys with a lot of eyeliner stared back at me, along with clippings from art mags and a small poster of the Dresden Dolls, which had probably been a full-spread article in its first incarnation. Here and there were blank spots where Haley had painted things—mostly vines, plants, and symbols. It was chaotic and beautiful.

At about eye level, she’d painted her name, but in that spot was now a ragged hole. The collage around it had been cleared, I could tell, the sudden empty spot looking cold and naked. I traced the hole with my finger.

When she’d said the door, I’d assumed the front door. Not her bedroom door. That made a world of difference. That frigid creep of fear was tiptoeing up my spine again. “Why didn’t she tell me it was her door?” I asked. “Someone broke in—was a few fucking feet from my baby sister—why the hell didn’t she tell me?” My blood, which had started to crystallize from the fear, heated up again—a boil of anger. Had I been a cartoon character, I think the resulting effect would have been steam shooting out of my ears.

“What would you have done, Sam?” Mrs. W said kindly. “It’s not like an ordinary burglar broke in—we don’t know how they managed it. We’re not simply talking deadbolts here—this place is warded. But somehow they managed to sneak past all the wards and any mundane security. Without making so much as a peep or scratching a lock. Professional.”

“That explains the chain lock,” I said. A feeling of icy dread settled in my gut. Someone had been in my mother’s house. A stranger had walked right up to my sister’s door like it was nothing. “I would’ve sent some protection at least—maybe had James come over and assess the place. I mean, my house is pretty secure, and he set that up.” I turned away from the door. I had to stop looking at the hole. I kept picturing Haley instead of the door. “What kind of knife was it?”

“A dagger of some sort. You’ll have to ask Haley for details—I’m not sure where they put it.”

Ramon, looking uneasy, said, “I can smell blood.”

Mrs. W grimaced. “Yes, they wrote something on the door—Haley wouldn’t tell me what.” She glanced at me. “They were trying to keep it from you, but, well, I didn’t think more secrets would do us any good.”

“I see.” My family was good with secrets, that was for sure. Mom had kept my necromancy a secret until Douglas had shown up. I wasn’t a big fan of keeping things from my family because that seemed to only cause more problems, but I had no doubt that Mrs. W would have happily kept this from me if she thought it was a good idea.

As I followed Mrs. W back to the kitchen, I tried not to dwell on Haley’s door. But someone had come after my baby sister. I felt the sharp pang of fear again. Later. I’d deal with it later. I didn’t have all the facts anyway, and it would be better to come at the problem when my brain wasn’t trying to wither and die and my stomach had returned to a more sedentary position. But I was sending James over, that was for sure. A chain lock was not enough by a long shot.

My head throbbed, and for a brief second, I thought I might see the return of my tea. “Can I have something for my headache?”

“You can have more tea.”

“Thank you, but I’d rather have the headache.” Resting my forehead against the table, I contemplated the floor for a while.

“I have yoga in an hour, kiddo, and if you think I’m going to miss the instructor’s iron buns as he goes into downward dog, you are sorely mistaken. Let’s pick up the pace.”

Ramon shuddered over his coffee. “That’s so wrong.”

Mrs. W smacked the back of his head with the palm of her hand. “One does not wear spandex while waggling one’s buns in front of a crowd without expecting some amount of ogling. It’s human nature.”

“It’s objectification.”

“No, it’s appreciation. I’m not mentally turning him into a mindless fleshpot. He’s a nice boy with a sweet disposition. It just so happens that I also admire his ass.”

I groaned. “Can we stop talking about asses, please? How can you be a night owl and a morning person, anyway? It’s disgusting and unnatural.”

“I eat right, exercise, and every afternoon I do a shot of whisky before a twenty-minute power nap. Does the body wonders.”

I lifted my head up enough to see if she was being serious. She was. “You must have been unstoppable in your youth.”

“I still am. Now, drink.”

Ignoring the whining and general complaining my body was dishing out, I sat up and drank. Between sips, I managed to not only keep the liquid down but to also ask Mrs. W why my body was acting like I’d beer-bonged a whole case of cheap beer. Until I talked with Ashley and found out why she’d done the “quiet, you,” gesture, I kept my visitation to myself.

“That is a very good question. We’re not sure. We can guess. You met up with something very powerful last night, that we’re sure of. But whatever the cause, the effect is the same.”

“A hangover?”

Mrs. W looked thoughtful. “Sort of, yes, but I’d liken it more to a spiritual hangover. It’s like the thing you met was so full of magic and energy and all-around mojo that it overwhelmed you.”

“So I was … soul drunk?”

She considered it before nodding. “About as good as any way to put it.”

I downed the rest of my tea, gagging over the dregs. “This happen a lot?”

Mrs. W dumped the last of her coffee into the sink. “In my entire life, I’ve seen it happen once. An older man went into the woods to get in touch with Mother Nature.”

“What happened to him?” Ramon asked, washing their mugs and putting them in the drainer so my mom wouldn’t come home to a mess. Ramon’s been my friend for a long time, and my mom trained him well.

“When he didn’t come back on time, we went looking for him. I found him in the water happily getting hypothermia, half drowned because he thought the glacial river was ‘pretty.’”

“Ah.”

“You ready to go?”

I nodded, then washed my mug in silence, almost dropping it twice. I was still shaking. Mrs. W removed it from my hands and gently placed it in the dish drainer. Then she herded us toward her car.

Whatever benefits I’d gotten from the tea were erased by the drive. I think Mrs. W had a secret ambition to be a stunt driver. Car rides from her always left me a little woozy, and even the mention makes Ramon downright pale. Right now, his eyes were closed and his hand had gone white-knuckled and clawlike from clutching his seat belt.

My house was at the end of a rather bumpy gravel road, and I’d never been so happy to see it. I leaned on my own car briefly to regain a little of myself. Something didn’t feel right, and it took me a minute to figure out why. All my tires had been slashed. Great. And I had no idea who had done it. Oh, I had
some
idea. I looked at the Roman guys on the pediment, the Minotaur on the lawn, the gnomes suspiciously pointed away from me. Could be any of them. I would deal with it later. That was becoming a mantra of mine.