Red Queen (50 page)

My mother was also moving to Malibu, to a nearby condo, and was talking about going back to school to study to be a nurse. Naturally, she assumed my newfound wealth was a
result of my father's sudden generosity. She knew about the kids but not about witch world. Perhaps she never would.

Despite the legal suspicions that lay on me, I was allowed to say a few words at Jimmy's funeral. I kept it short and sweet.

“I know my presence here is uncomfortable for some, but those who know me, and better yet those who knew Jimmy, will realize that the bond we shared was magical. It was perfect. All my life I dreamed of having a boyfriend like Jimmy, and when he finally showed up, he was a thousand times better than any fantasy. Because he was real, and such a genuine person. Without trying, he somehow cared for everyone. I know because of how much he cared for me. Jimmy didn't die of a drug overdose. Jimmy didn't even smoke pot. His death was far more noble than that.

“I loved Jimmy with all my heart, and I have a feeling that I'm going to go on loving him forever. For you see, he hasn't left us. He's close, closer than any of you can imagine. Every night I go to bed, I see him. He was a great guy, my Jimmy, and I believe I'm going to continue to see him until the day I die.”

After the funeral, Herme and Alex stopped by to see how I was doing. It seemed in all the drama of the last week no one had bothered to tell me that my best friend was also a witch, one who possessed the healing gene. It wasn't coincidence she was my best friend. After all, the Council had schemed to put us all together.

Herme planned to connect Alex at the next full moon. She said she was ready for the experience but I could tell she had misgivings. When I questioned her, she agreed she was scared.

“When I hear about everything you went through the last few days,” she said, while Herme played with Whip in the other room and Huck slept on the chair beside me, “it makes me wonder if I don't have enough problems in this world to deal with. What do I need with another one?”

“Witch world exists whether you're aware of it or not,” I said. “You're already there, playing your usual bad girl. You might as well see what it's all about.”

Alex considered. “The only reason I agreed to let Herme do it is because I want to see you and Jimmy together again.”

“You mean me and James,” I corrected. She was exaggerating. She wanted to be a witch because she wanted what we all did—the magic.

“Isn't it the same?”

I shook my head. “It'll never be the same. Jimmy is James, sure, but there are differences. Everything I said at his funeral was true, but to be honest, it doesn't make me miss him any less. At least when I'm in this world.”

Alex hugged me. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's all right,” I said as she held me. “When I'm here, I have Whip and Huck to keep me company. And James and I get to play with Lara in witch world. In a way, I've gained more than I lost.”

Alex let go of me and gestured to sleeping Huck. “Is it weird taking care of Kari's baby?” she asked.

“I thought it would be but it's not. I guess I see him as belonging to Jimmy. I hardly think about Kari unless someone brings her up.”

Alex looked concerned. “But you'll turn him over to Kari's parents one day, won't you? I mean, Huck's DNA, if the police do a test, they'll discover that he belongs to Jimmy and Kari.”

“My father told me the same thing. I guess one day I'll have to leave him on Kari's parents' doorstep, with a note, and ring the bell and run like hell.” I stopped. “But I'm not ready to give him up. He meant too much to Jimmy.”

“Do the Las Vegas police have any idea what happened to Kari?”

“No.”

“But they keep questioning you?”

“Sure. But what can I say? I act like she just wandered off into the desert and disappeared.”

Alex ground her teeth. “Shit! The more I think about all this, the more crazy I get. Two worlds, two of each of us. You know, I can't look in a mirror these days without feeling that some crazy chick is staring back at me.”

“She is. It's you.”

“What's it like taking care of Whip?”

“He's never a problem. Since he woke up to who he is, his health has rapidly improved. He has the healing gene. My
father says he should make a full recovery.” I added, “And he's begun to talk a little.”

“That's great.”

“It's fantastic. He's so damn smart. He's always cracking me up. Really, it's no sacrifice to take care of him.”

“But he was a monster in the other world. As those memories come back, won't he change?” Alex asked.

“I know what you're afraid of. My father and I have talked about it a lot. But the Council's found that the world in which you go through the death experience usually sets the tone of a person's personality. Since Whip ‘died' in this world, the positive side of him should stay in control. So, no, I'm not worried that he's going to murder me in my sleep.”

Alex stared at me. She went to speak but stopped herself.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“You're thinking how much I've changed. How I'm not the sweet and innocent Jessie you once knew.”

“I didn't say that,” Alex protested.

“It doesn't matter, it's true.” Huck began to stir, and I lifted him up and held him to my chest. At moments like this, when he was near my heart, I felt closest to Jimmy, and knew beyond any doubt that he was his child, never mind the uncertainty Kari had tried to plant inside me.

My bitterness toward the Lapras had not faded. It was only because of them that Jimmy had been forced to take the risk that had killed him. I would never forgive the Lapras for that. One day, I was confident, I would make them pay.

“Jessie?” Alex said, puzzled at my last remark.

The name Jessie felt strange to me. I worried if it was because I identified more with Jessica, the powerful witch. I was not sure if I admired that person. She was, after all, a killer.

“It's nothing,” I said.

I heard a sound at the front door, the mailman stuffing our box with next month's bills. I got up to check if there was any news from UCLA. Because I had been accepted late—with my father's help—it looked like I was going to have trouble getting the classes I wanted. But I wasn't worried—I was just grateful a part of my life was returning to normal.

In the box I found a red letter addressed to me, with no return address. The stamp said it had been mailed from Las Vegas. I tore it open in front of Alex. She must have seen my face fall.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

I held out the letter so we could both read it.

I needed to read it twice to believe it.

Dear Jessie,

I pray this note finds you well.

You put on a wonderful show in the desert.

One day soon we'll have to meet.

Yours, the Alchemist

P.S. Syn sends her greetings.

“Who the hell is the Alchemist?” Alex asked.

“Trust me, you don't want to know,” I said.

“But that line about Syn. That's a joke, isn't it? You killed her. I mean, you killed her in witch world. Shouldn't she have automatically died in this world?”

I remembered how Kendor had sworn he had killed the Alchemist in witch world. That he could not possibly be alive in the real world. Kendor had been adamant, and yet there had been something in his voice that had made me doubt him.

“That's what I was told,” I said.

Alex chewed on that a moment. “Are you worried?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

JESSIE'S STORY CONTINUES IN

TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK!

EVERY NIGHT, FOR NINE NIGHTS
in a row, I dream of a guy I've never met. He's always working the same job. Always planning and enacting the same ingenious crime. Always vanishing at the end of the night.

Worse, he's not someone I observe from a distance. The dream is light-years beyond lucid. If it wasn't so intriguing, I'd call it a nightmare. For in my dreams I
am
him—Marc Simona, a nineteen-year-old parking attendant at a famous Hollywood theater. I see through his eyes, I think his thoughts. Indeed, I know everything there is to know about him.

Except why he haunts me.

My name is Jessica Ralle and I'm a witch. I've explained all this before. How I traveled to Las Vegas with my friends the weekend after I graduated high school. How I was initiated into the ancient game of red queen. How I died and was
reborn in the mysterious realm known as witch world.

Last time, I told my story as if it happened in the past, which it did. But this time I'll tell it like it's happening now. I have my reasons, and by the time I finish this tale they will be obvious.

I had been a witch for only a month when I began to dream of Marc. At first I told no one about him. I mean, I couldn't tell James Kelter, my boyfriend, that my unconscious was obsessing over another guy. And since I couldn't even see Jimmy anymore in the real world—but only when he and I were awake together in witch world—he was jealous enough about what I was doing with the other half of my life. It wasn't that he didn't trust me. He was just . . . well, human. Hell, had the situation been reversed, I would have been none too happy.

At the same time, I was hesitant to confide in my best friend, Alex Simms. Although Alex had the genetic potential to become a witch—or to be “connected,” as they called it in witch world—she had yet to go through the initiatory rite of dying and being revived—a process that usually triggered an awareness of the other world in people who had the right genetic makeup. Alex said she wasn't afraid but we both knew that wasn't true. I didn't blame her. I wouldn't have volunteered to die. Who would? The only way I became a witch was because I was forced into it.

Yet I was still hoping Alex would one day join me and become a witch, and for that reason I kept my mouth shut about
Marc. I didn't want to give her another reason to be scared.

Why I hesitated to tell my father about the dreams, though, I wasn't sure. It could have been because he'd only been back in my life for a month when I began to have them. Or else it was because he'd never spoken about having a similar experience. As far as I knew, seeing through the eyes of another person while you were asleep was not a “standard” witch power. Whatever, my father still intimidated me and I didn't see him that often. Plus I wasn't the kind of person who talked about personal stuff on the phone. I was paranoid that way. I always felt like someone was listening.

So I was alone with my dreams, alone with Marc every night when I closed my eyes and fell asleep. Like I said, I felt I was inside him, that I actually
was
him. It was weird; it was disturbing and yet there was something seductive about it as well. Marc. I was pretty sure he wasn't a witch, but he was a fascinating character. . . .

PREMIERE NIGHT AT GRAUMAN'S CHINESE
theatre. Roll out the red carpet and prepare to welcome the hordes of beautiful people in their Mercedes S-Class sedans, Jaguar convertibles, Beamers, and Bentleys—and a bevy of other cars worth more than most U.S. homes.

Because he was a parking attendant for Grauman's—now legally the TCL Chinese Theatre, a name no one in Hollywood was even aware of—the majority of people his age would have assumed Marc Simona loved riding in such cars. The truth was he didn't. He just parked them, usually drove them less than two hundred yards. He never got to feel how they handled on the open road, and besides, even if he'd been given a chance to drive a sports car up the California coast, he wouldn't have cared. The only thing that mattered to him was how much trunk space each vehicle had.

The space was what mattered.

That and what kind of jewelry the owners of the cars—specifically the ladies—wore to the red-carpet events. Because Marc didn't park the cars for tips. Being a valet was just a role he played so he'd know which trunk to climb into at the end of the night.