Spell Struck (18 page)

The bus heaved to a stop. A thin older man with a red-tipped white cane ascended the steps and showed the driver a pass hung on a multicolored lanyard around his neck. A teen with blond dreadlocks and light walnut-brown skin abandoned the front seat. "Here," she told the man. "You can have my seat."

The man gave her a vacant nod, then tapped his cane to the seat and sat down. The girl glanced at me, then moved four rows. With a hiss and clatter, the bus door closed. The clicking of the turn signal reached all the way to the back as the driver eased onto Mount Diablo Road.

The gentleman beside me shifted in his seat and ran his palm down his scraggly gray beard. His watery eyes studied me. After assessing me from head to feet, he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on either side of the red dot adorning the middle of his forehead. His nails were longer than I would have expected, yellow against his earth-colored skin. White light streaked from his head, and Magdalena's menacing presence retreated a foot or two.

The bus rumbled to a stop. Rain sprinkled the windows. The man opened his eyes to grab the seat back in front of him and hoisted himself up. I stood, and as he passed, the man said, "It feeds off fear. Raise your vibration. Cast love at it."

I nodded, not sure what he meant.

At the next red light, Magdalena's astral body oozed into the aisle beside me.
I am not afraid of you. I held my breath, waiting to see if I had fooled her. Instead, she clawed closer. Panic tightened like a noose. What was I doing wrong? Maybe astral bodies could smell fear or see goose bumps beneath clothes.
Where attention goes, energy flows.

Despite the chill, I unzipped my jacket and shoved my hands into the front pocket of my pullover hoodie. My left hand slid over my right and settled around the snug band of woven cloth strips encircling my wrist. The cage imprisoning my heart rattled.

Mom patted the hospital bed and beckoned me to her side. Apprehension skated through me. She wore a tan knit hat to cover the baldness brought on by the chemo. Dark shadows encircled her weary eyes. Clear tubes disappeared into her nostrils. Another ran from her hand to a stiff bag hanging on a metal stand.

"I have something for you, my little Buddha. Hold out your hand."

I obeyed. Mother draped a rope of woven cloth across my palm.
"Do you recognize any of the fabric?"

The blue strip with its hint of silver stars caught my attention first.
"Did you cut up your Christmas nightgown?"

"Just a piece off the bottom. I won't need it anymore, and I wanted you to remember Christmas mornings. What else do you see?"

I rotated the braid.
"Is the yellow one from our old dishcloths?"

Her lips curved upward.
"Yes, so you will remember the meals I cooked for you and how lucky we were to have enough to eat."

I gulped, remembering the hot breakfasts she used to make before school. How I missed them! My stomach growled, betraying its cold emptiness. I pointed to an orange strip.
"Is this from your scarf?"

"Yes. The one you gave me on your sixth birthday because you wanted me to have a present too."

I nodded, remembering. I ran my finger over the last strip.
"I don't remember this fuzzy white one."

"It's from the baby blanket your Aunt Bronwyn gave you. Your dad thought it should have been blue, but Bronwyn insisted you were a little angel and it had to be white."
Mother lifted the ends of the woven cloth.
"I made it long, because you're still growing."
She looped the bright braid around my wrist and tied the ends together. I dipped my hand down and the bracelet slid to the base of my thumb.

"If it feels like it's going to fall off, then keep it in your pocket until you grow bigger."

I blew a long breath out my mouth and glanced around. We had reached the library. I scrambled for the door and reached it just as it began to close. The driver sighed. The door whooshed open. I thudded down the last step and jumped to the curb. After the bus lumbered off in a diesel cloud, Magdalena, invisible and reeking of malice, condensed and flattened against me like a backpack brimming with vipers.

Cast love at it? No way. Magdalena didn't deserve my love.

Someone bumped into me, someone real, someone inhabiting her corporeal body. She pushed back a stray blond dreadlock and said, "That is one nasty demon at your back."

"You can see it?" I zipped up my jacket against the cold.

"Yeah." She angled her yellow umbrella over me. "Looks like an old lady."

"It
is an old lady. She
's astral projecting." The force at my back eased, as if Magdalena had retreated. I sensed her nearby, hovering, spying.

"Normally I don't get involved. But I don't normally ride the bus either, so I figured I was put on it for a reason." She hitched her woven hippie purse higher on her shoulder. Her thin jacket and long skirt had a worn, thrift-shop vibe. Her scuffed boots squished with each step, which meant rain had seeped into them through holes in the soles. "I noticed you at school last week," she said.

"You go to Jefferson?" A vague recollection of her swam to the surface.

"Yep." The rain eased, or maybe it just seemed that way because of the umbrella. We hurried past a towering bronze sculpture depicting a leaning stack of books. We reached the glass doors at the top of the wide concrete stairs. The girl lowered her umbrella and collapsed it. Water ran off its silver point and trailed toward the stairs. "The name's Yemaya." She thrust out her hand. "Shaman. I'm a junior."

We exchanged a firm, businesslike handshake. "Aidan. Artist. Sophomore. The guy in the seat beside me on the bus told me to raise my vibration and cast light at her."

"Dude, there was no one on the bus beside you."

"Yeah, there was. He got off at the last stop. You must have seen him when you changed seats. Older guy with a turban and long gray beard?"

"I saw
you when I moved, but the seat beside you was empty. I almost went back to sit with you, but I changed my mind when I saw the crone.
"

I slid my hand beneath my dripping hair and rubbed the back of my neck. We had reached the main room. Welcome warmth from unseen heaters engulfed us. I lowered my voice. "You sure there was no one there?"

"Completely sure." Yemaya loosened her knitted saffron scarf. "He must have been a spirit guide." Her gaze roamed my face. "Which means my work here is done. Nice to meet you, Aidan-Who-Rides-With-Spirits."

"Wait." I caught her wrist as she headed for the glass-walled teen room. "Are there any thrift stores around here, or flea markets?"

"You could try Val's Vintage Clothing. It's farther up Mount Diablo on Brown Avenue. They're open until five."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Yemaya screwed up her features as if she smelled something rotten. "Now go do whatever your guide told you to do. Your demon is stinking up the place."

"I'll try."

Yemaya pushed open the doors to the teen room.

I detoured to the boys' bathroom and dried what I could with brown paper towels. My half-frozen legs trembled beneath my soaked, stiff pant legs. The mournful growls emanating from my hollow stomach reverberated off the beige tile. I stared at my feverish reflection in the mirror.
Don't let Magdalena win.

The heaters weren't cranked up as high in the technology lab. I wanted to flee back to the main room, find a comfy chair beneath a heating vet, and slip into oblivion. Maybe someone would throw a toasty coat over me.

The tech librarian frowned down at my trembling hand as I displayed my library card. "Forget your umbrella?"

"Can't afford one," I confessed.

Surprise flickered in her eyes. Most of the town kids were rich like Parvani, or middle class like Salem. They had vacation homes and umbrellas to match every outfit, not holes in their boots and demons clawing their back.

The librarian cleared her throat. "You can use computer number seven. Your session will end in one hour."

"Yes, ma'am. I know." I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Thank you."

The computers were laid out back-to-back on two long tables. I dropped hard into the plastic seat and took a moment to steady myself. I couldn't let hunger, thirst, or a case of chills take me out. Not when my problems had thrust Salem into harm's way.

I found myself seated between a portly, middle-aged guy doing a job search and a bespectacled twenty-something researching string theory. The back of my head tingled.
Magdalena. I scooted forward in the chair. Her malignant energy pressed in behind me, staring over my shoulder at the computer screen. To my right, the job seeker half stood and inched his chair away from me.

I tightened my aura and drummed my fingers next to the keyboard. Salem would have emailed me by now. If I checked my messages, Magdalena would hone in on her. Instead, I keyed in a word search for thrift stores in the area. Val's Vintage Clothing came up. I clicked on it. The website showed the address and a picture of the building. According to the map, it was, as Yemaya had promised, nearby.

I wondered how long Magdalena could stay disembodied.

I didn't dare work on
Blaming the Brew. I clicked on another thrift store and left its info up on the monitor.
It feeds off fear. The same could be said for Papo, so it made sense Magdalena fed off fear, too. She had more smarts than Papo and commanded evil magic. All this time I had been afraid of Papo, when she had been running the show. The thought twisted my insides.

Raise your vibration. I drew a circle in the air with my nose
, then reversed course.
I am not Nico, kidnapped street urchin. I am Aidan. This time I didn
't conjure up some guy who charmed lunches and free rides. I went inward and found the man my mother had hoped I would become. He appeared to me on a mountaintop, silhouetted against a brilliant blue sky. My energy rose.

Cast love at it. My thoughts skidded. The mountain disappeared. I flashed again on the hospital
, then living on the streets. A weight crushed against my back, behind my heart. Maybe Magdalena had slipped inside my heart chakra and infiltrated my memories, poisoning the love and leaving abandonment, loss, and pain.

A hand clasped my shoulder. Adrenaline flooded my veins — my reflexes took over. I leapt out of the chair, knocking my knees against the table, and whirled, expecting to see Papo's mocking sneer.

"Whoa, it's just me." Mr. Castellano, my art teacher, held up his hands in full surrender. "Sorry. I should have announced myself."

Embarrassment heated my cheeks. The guy doing the job search tossed me a disapproving glance, then abandoned his computer. The librarian glared. I needed to calm the situation before she threw me out. "Man, I'm the one who is sorry." I held out my hand to prove I wasn't a nut case, afraid to be touched.

Mr. Castellano's shoulders relaxed, and he clasped my hand. His hand was warm and comforting, but the action made me wince.

"You okay?"

I rubbed my arm. "I fell off a ladder cleaning out the gutters. It will be fine."

"You're wet and freezing." Mr. Castellano seemed genuinely concerned. "Did you see a doctor?"

"No. Don't worry. I will be back sawing pine planks by Monday."

His expression perked. "Speaking of art class, I was just dropping off flyers for the art showcase." He peeked over my shoulder. "Researching thrift stores?"

"Yeah. They're a good source for interesting and inexpensive items to embellish my art."

"Found objects. Great idea." His nostrils flared above his bushy mustache. Yemaya had said Magdalena's astral body stunk up the place. I hoped she was kidding.

Mr. Castellano thrust an orange flyer into my hand. "You and Sarah Miller might find this interesting. The district is holding an art competition for kids fourteen to eighteen. Great cash prizes this year. You two should check it out."

"We aren't close friends."

"Oh? I thought I detected a little connection going." His eyes twinkled. The dark energy behind me sparked and surged.

"Nah, but thanks."
Do not go into terror. Magdalena will hone in on your fear and it will lead her straight to Salem. "
I'll check it out."

"Bueno. Sure you are okay?
"

"Absolutely."

"See you Monday, then." He headed for the door, his shoulders hunching in preparation for the cold.

When Mr. Castellano disappeared from sight, I returned to the computer and stared at the monitor
. Several heartbeats passed before I realized Magdalena
's foul energy no longer pressed against me. One of Papo's curses tore from my throat in a loud whisper. I speed-walked to the exit, reading energy, searching for Magdalena's presence.

Yemaya hustled out of the teen room, fresh vertical grooves etched between her eyes. "Did you feel it?"

"What?"

"Your demon quaked the windows when it blasted out of here. Why was it following Mr. Castellano?"

My heart bottomed out somewhere around my knees. I ran for the door, heedless of the No Running, No Loud Talking signs, and called over my shoulder, "Because it needs him to find the grimoire."

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Where are you?" Aidan had said he might not be able to email me. And it was raining hamsters and bullfrogs out there, which would dissuade anyone from schlepping to the library, especially on public transportation. But still… I had the weird feeling he
could email me, but for some reason he didn
't want to, which just sucked.

"Face it," I told Einstein. "He's just not into me."

Einstein trudged over in an uncharacteristic show of support. I petted his head. "Things must be bad if you're being nice to me." I exited the email program and returned to
Blaming the Brew. "
I hope Aidan likes it," I told Einstein. "'Cause I sent it to him, and he'll see all the spelling errors I missed." I shrank inside, fearing judgment, hating myself for being lousy at something most people took for granted.