Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) (23 page)

I’m confident that I’m safe with Jenna, but even so, my heart skips a beat whenever I spot someone wearing all black on the street, or on the subway. They rarely ever pay me any mind, but I never let my guard down, just in case. One afternoon, I spot someone dressed in black following Jenna and I back to her house in the corner of my eye. I come dangerously close to telling her to walk ahead, while I deal with him. It turns out to be a false alarm, though; when I spin around to get a glimpse of his face, I see that the guy I assumed was a threat doesn’t have any ancient symbols branded into his arm, like most mature spellcasters do. He rounds a corner a few blocks from Jenna’s house, and I relax.

Aside from worrying about Selene, my grades, and my social status, I also feel a growing level of concern for Rachel. Jenna and I try repeatedly to find her during school hours, but she’s nowhere to be found, nor will she answer her phone. Our attempts to get in contact with her parents are likewise failures, leading Jenna to believe that they went on vacation somewhere, and Rachel forgot to tell us. My instincts are telling me that it’s nothing so benign, that Rachel wouldn’t leave the city for a week without telling someone, but I let Jenna believe that her theory is possible. I decide for myself that I’m going to the police if I don’t hear from Rachel before the end of the month.

My second week back, Jenna claims that she needs to take a mental health day, so I end up heading to school by myself. I nearly get lost, since I’m not quite used to the commute from Queens just yet, but I still manage to make it to class on time. The morning classes breeze by without incident (although I nearly fall asleep in Calculus), and out of habit, I look around for Jenna at lunch time only to remember that she won’t be coming. Then, I spot Alyssa, sitting alone at her table. I’d rather not sit by myself, and I’d been meaning to talk to her anyway, so I make my way over to her corner of the cafeteria.

Alyssa looks up at me as I draw near, and her eyes widen in alarm. I can’t say blame her; before going through the Guardian’s trials together, she and I barely spoke, and we definitely never ate lunch together. I peek into the book she’s always writing in, and find lines of poetry written in ink the same shade of green as my eyes, signed by one “A. Russo.” Alyssa slams the book shut before I can decode her handwriting, and asks, “What are you doing here?”

I’m a little put off by the hostility in her tone, but I try to remain polite. “Eating lunch with you. Is that a crime?”

“No, but it’s a stupid idea. I repeat, what are you doing here? Why would you come outside at all, for that matter? Are you insane?”

“I’m fine. Krystal and I worked out a-“

“Heather. You’re not safe here, or anywhere. And you’re especially not safe around me. So just… stay away, alright?” Alyssa slips her book into a small black bag at her side, then slings the bag over her shoulder. She mutters, “Do yourself a favor, Santos. Find a hiding spot, and stay there.” Then without another word, she turns and walks away.

For a moment, I’m too stunned to do anything but watch Alyssa leave, but in a flash, I’ve grabbed my tray and started following her. She looks over her shoulder at me, then walks a little faster. I call out to her several times, but she never responds. Eventually, she stops at a locker, and fiddles with the lock until it opens, so she can throw her bag inside. I stop behind her, and ask, “What’s your problem?”

Finally, she turns to face me and says, “You’re the one with problems.”

“So I’m the one storming out of the lunchroom for no good reason?”

“No, you’re the moron trying to consort with the enemy.”

“The enemy… since when are we enemies?”

“Since always, alright? Now get the hell away from me.”

“No.” Alyssa tries to storm off again, but I grab her by the arm, and ask, “Why are you being such a bitch today?”

Alyssa accidentally knocks the tray out of my hand as she wrenches her arm away, and shouts, “Because I care about you, alright?!” The words echo through the empty hall, and in the silence that follows, her expression softens a little. “I care about you a lot, more than I ever meant to, and I don’t want to let anything happen to you, but… you’re just so damn stubborn. And you don’t seem to realize how much danger you’re in. You’re basically a walking target, and you don’t seem to care.”

Alyssa’s outburst touches a nerve, and all the frustration I’ve kept bottled up for the past week or so rises to the surface in a flash. “I do care, actually, but what everyone else needs to realize is that I’m not fragile, and I don’t need constant supervision! I have my own life to lead, and that shouldn’t have to stop just because some old bitch with a grudge wants me out of the picture.” I bend down to pick up my lunch, which thankfully didn’t spill out of its plastic container. “Why DOES Selene want me dead, anyway? I never did anything to her.”

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me anything about what her plans for you and Krystal are.”

“Well, that’s just perfect.”

“Either way, you should still be at least a little more worried about yourself.”

“Oh, please.” I stand up straight, holding my tray in both hands. “I’m a New Yorker, it’s not a full day unless I’ve had at least five near-death experiences.”

Alyssa rolls her eyes, and asks, “Why are you being so difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult, I’m just tired of everyone treating me like a baby. ‘Heather, don’t go outside. Heather, don’t get into fights. Heather, don’t talk to me, I’m dangerous.’ I’m sick of it! I just want at least ONE of the people in my life to accept that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, Heather. I’m sure everyone else does, too. And I can’t speak for them, but I know I don’t want for you to be in a situation where you have to. Does that make sense?” Alyssa’s shoulders slumps as she says, “I don’t think you’re weak, I just don’t want to lose you.”

I lean against the lockers, and let out a sigh. “Fine. I guess I understand.”

“Good.” I suppose I still look upset, because Alyssa asks, “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

“Honestly… no. My friend’s been missing for over a week.”

“Which one? The ginger?”

“Her name is Rachel, but yes. She disappeared somewhere between Queens and the Bronx.”

“I was wondering why she hasn’t been showing up to art class lately.” Alyssa leans against the lockers to my left, watching me carefully. “You think something happened to her?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Then, if you want, I can try to help you find her.”

“What? How?”

“I can sense energy, like some of the Guardians.”

“How does that help us?”

Alyssa glares at me over her glasses as if she’s being asked to explain something basic. “Everyone’s energy has a slightly different feel to it, and I can tell certain people apart from others. She’s not a spellcaster, so her aura will be fainter than anyone else I’ve ever tracked that way, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Allie… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything yet. There’s a catch.”

I should have known; nothing good ever comes without a price. I sigh, and ask, “What’s the catch?”

“I’d like your help with something after school today. You don’t actually have to do much, just provide moral support. And you’re the only person I feel like I can trust with this.”

“That’s fine, what are we doing?”

“All in good time. Meet my by the side exit after your last class.”

“You’re assuming I’m gonna go.”

“Am I wrong?”

I smile, but say nothing as I push myself off the lockers, and start walking back towards the cafeteria. I half expect Alyssa to follow me, but she just says, “I’ll see you then,” and I can make out the sound of her footsteps over mine, growing fainter until they fade into the distance.

Chapter 25

Time seems to crawl by for the rest of the day. Minutes turn to hours, and I space out while watching the clock more times than I care to admit. I honestly can’t wait to get the hell out of here so I can help Alyssa with whatever it is she’s got planned. The sooner I help solve her problem, the sooner we can find out what happened to Rachel. The universe, however, seems hell bent on keeping me in school for an eternity. The final bell sounds at last, and for once, I’m the first student to pack up and rush out the door.

Alyssa stands waiting for me by the side exit as promised, silently writing in her book. She looks up as I draw near, and quickly slips the book into her bag before greeting me. “Santos. You showed up.”

“Yes I did, Russo.”

“Stop that. Calling people by their last name is my thing.”

“Okay… are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Alyssa pushes open the door, and together we step outside. It’s a pretty nice day for the end of May, even though it’s the kind of hot outside that reminds you spring is almost over. We don’t get to enjoy the weather for long, however, as Alyssa soon leads us onto the subway. It’s not until we arrive at Penn Station, and she buys our tickets that I get an idea of where we’re going; on the ticket she hands me, in small print, are the words Oyster Bay. I shoot her a confused look, but she offers no explanation as we walk to the appropriate platform and board the train.

The train ride from Penn Station to Jamaica is uneventful, but for the crying children a few rows behind us. When we transfer to another train, however, I notice a pair of eyes on us. A man across the train has us in his sights, and I can’t be sure, but I think I can see several strange symbols tattooed onto his forearm. I’d assumed that as long as I was with Alyssa, I would be safe, but now I’m not quite as sure. I nudge her, and whisper, “Is that guy one of your friends?”

Alyssa glances up at him, then resumes staring out the window. “Nope, never seen him before. He doesn’t seem to be a spellcaster either, so we’re safe.”

“Okay, good.” I watch the world pass by our window in various gray and green blurs as our train races down the tracks, wondering how long the trip is going to take. After a while, I ask, “Won’t you get in trouble for hanging out with me?”

“I don’t think anyone will find out. Honestly, I think they’re focusing more on finding Krystal, since she’s more of a threat.”

“Oh. But still, what if they do find out?”

“’Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than in twenty of their swords.’”

“I love it when you talk Shakespearean.”

Alyssa rolls her eyes, and turns back to face the window, but I can just barely make out a smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

***

The train pulls into Oyster Bay surprisingly quickly, considering it’s the last stop on the line. I find it hard to believe we’re technically still in New York; I’ve never been to Long Island before, but judging from what little of it I’ve seen, it seems to be a world of its own, unwillingly attached to the rest of the state. It certainly seems more peaceful than what I’ve seen of New York so far.

I’m tempted to walk along the nearby beach, or at least explore the park, but Alyssa doesn’t intend to waste any time sightseeing. She finds and leads us down the main road, then along a side road lined with several two story houses. I try talking to her, but Alyssa remains silent, her face unreadable but for the panicked look in her eyes.

We come to a stop just in front of a house near the “end” part of the dead end road, a two story building that was either originally painted gray, or slowly became gray after years of neglect. A few of the shutters, also gray, hang off of the windows they were supposed to cover, many of which are dirty or cracked. Even the yard seems to have given up on itself, the yellowing grass standing in stark contrast to the green of its neighbors. We stand in front of it in silence for a moment, taking in the house in its unkempt splendor. I quietly ask Alyssa where we are, but she shakes her head, and walks along the cracked pavement leading to the front door.

We can’t find a doorbell when we reach the porch, so Alyssa settles for knocking on the door. There’s a moment of complete silence, and then I hear the sound of curtains being drawn closed. A few seconds later, a woman only an inch taller than me with dirty blond hair pulls the door open. She looks us up and down, before asking, “Can I help you?”

I turn to Alyssa, who quietly asks, “Vera Russo?”

“Yes, that’s me,” the woman at the door responds. “Do I know you?”

“You should. I’m your daughter. Alyssa.”

The woman, Vera, nods silently, and pulls the door open wider so that we can enter. The inside of the house is unexpectedly neat, considering the outside’s state of disrepair. Alyssa and I take a seat on a large couch, while Vera sits across from us, her eyes studying Alyssa closely. I get the feeling I shouldn’t be intruding on this particular conversation, but just as I think to ask where the bathroom is, Vera says to Alyssa, “You look so much like your father.”

Alyssa folds her arms over her chest, and replies, “That’s not exactly something to be proud of.”

“Okay, sorry. But-“

“Where’s Louis?”

“Your brother hasn’t lived here in a couple of years. He’s shacking up with some girl he met at Stonybrook.”

“Oh. Good for him.”

The room falls silent again, only this time, the hostility in the air is palpable. I’m tempted to flee, but I think my window of opportunity to do so has closed. Vera replicates Alyssa’s pose, folding her arms across her chest, and asks, “What are you doing here, Alyssa?”

“I’m not here for an apology, if that’s what you’re thinking. And I also don’t want you back in my life. I just need to know why… why would you abandon me? How could you do that to your own daughter?”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

Vera takes a moment to think, then answers, “Honestly, you were too much for me to handle. Every single time you didn’t get your way, you would freak out, and weird shit would start happening. The lights would flicker, the house would shake, people would get flung around or thrown up against the ceiling, and one time, you even blew up the Christmas tree. In all honesty, I got tired of trying to raise a demon on my own. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left you with your godmother, in the hopes she could get you exorcised or something while we got our own lives together. I’m sorry you had to grow up without a mother, but I’m not sorry for giving you up. That was the best decision I could have made, for everyone involved.”