Student Bodies (12 page)

She snorted. “And it would have killed you if I wasn't there to free you.”

I forced a smile and placed both my gloved hands over Twyla's hands. “And for that, I'm more grateful than you can possibly imagine. Look, I might come off as bossy, but don't take it seriously, OK? You've got some magical skills that I've never seen before and I'd like to learn more about you and about the kinds of things you can do, but first we need to work together to stop this…
whatever
we're dealing with.”

She chewed her lip and her eyes panned down to the backpack in both our hands. She emitted a reluctant sigh and said, “Alright. I'll work with you, we'll talk to your mother and I'll share the link to that video with my gramps. If this is as big as I think it is, we're going to need as many magical heads as possible to try and figure out what we're dealing with.”

I released my grip on Willard Schubert's backpack as a show of good faith and handed it to Twyla.

“Thank you,” I said earnestly. “Let's get going.”

 

We arrived back at my house shortly before noon and I whispered a word of magic to turn off the protective sentinels. We stepped inside, stomping snow off our boots and I bellowed for my mother.

“Mom, we need to talk!” I shouted.

I heard the sound of Mom's footsteps shuffling down the upstairs hall. She took three steps down the stairs and a look of shock or surprise washed over her face as she saw Twyla.

“Welcome to our home and blessed be,” she said politely. “I am very honored to have you here with us. May the divine spirits keep you and protect you.”

I stared at my mother like she'd just lost her mind when she shuffled down the stairs and immediately took Twyla's coat.

“Um, thank you?” said Twyla, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

A loud slapping sound came from the kitchen followed by a low grumbling growl. Betty the Dog appeared in the kitchen doorway and cocked her head sharply to the right.

Mom took our coats. “You all must be freezing to death, it's minus fifteen this morning. Why aren't you at school?”

“School is canceled for the day,” I said feeling slightly drained. “There was a memorial assembly for Travis Butler.”

Mom gestured for us to follow her to the kitchen. Marcus, Twyla and I took a seat at the table as she plugged in the kettle. Betty plodded up to Twyla and warily sniffed her hand.

“Your dog is very cautious,” said Twyla as she scratched behind Betty's left ear. The Great Dane's tail clumped loudly against the linoleum and then her right rear leg started to twitch as she pressed her enormous head in against the girl. “And very secretive, too. You can come out and join the conversation, ancient spirit, I've got no plans to harm you or this family.”

Betty licked Twyla's hand and then promptly sneezed sending a spray of dog snot all over her sleeve. “All and good, then,” Betty rumbled. “Something has happened this morning. I can smell the malice all over you three.”

I grabbed Willard's backpack off the floor and placed it on the kitchen table. “Yeah, the condensed version is that I thought Twyla might be the bad guy. We sorted that out quickly enough. We wanted to check out Travis Butler's locker, so we sat behind a veil and waited for the school to empty. I'd just opened the locker and
bam
! I got nailed by some kind of malice-covered creature. Twyla manifested a freaking grizzly bear and freed my sorry ass. And by the way, just how the hell did you do that, Twyla?”

She reached into her pocket and placed her small pouch of beads on the table. “I have a spirit guardian. When I was singing in the hallway, I was calling to him. He always comes when I sing, though he's often headstrong and difficult.”

I snorted and pointed to Betty. “Sounds like someone I know, maybe they're related. Does it… he, have a name?”

She shook her head. “To name my spirit guardian would imply that I own him. You can't own a friend. He is simply called
dlézi
– our word for bear. He has been paired with me for only about a year now.”

“I thought you were Sarcee,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you would. You probably think that I live on the rez and that I'm a burden to the taxpayer, too. That's how most white people look at us. The Sarcee are actually called the Tsuu T'ina Nation. My people migrated from their nation a long time ago. You're wrong just like ninety-nine percent of all white people, but I won't hold that against you. Anyway, enough about me, what we witnessed in the hall was a thousand degrees of evil.”

“Yeah… that thing decided to monologue about a ton of bad stuff that's about to happen,” Marcus interjected.

The kettle whistled loudly and Mom poured steaming hot water into three mugs. She opened a can of hot chocolate powder and doled out heaping teaspoons into each mug, then she stirred them quickly and gave the three of us one each.

“What did it say?” Mom asked, taking a seat. She was still wearing her housecoat, but at least she didn't look as tired as she had last night.

Marcus coughed as he fiddled with his phone and then slid it onto the table. A video screen popped up showing the tar creature struggling against my binding. It was more frightening to look at the second time – maybe the adrenaline rush had blinded me to the sheer menace the creature gave off, but its voice was unforgettable:

“We are one and we are not, Shadowcull. And by the time you find her, we will have become a force so terrible that we will become drunk on the tears of mothers who cry over their dead children. Nobody is safe from us. Not you. Not the Indian girl. Not anyone! But know this… we are coming. We are coming sooner than you think and when we make our presence known a great wail will follow. We will unleash suffering on all the mothers and all the fathers and your kind can do nothing to stop us!”

Betty stood the Great Dane's body so that she could lift her front paws onto the kitchen table. Her massive head appeared between her two giant forepaws and she watched the video closely. Together we stared at the tiny screen as the tar creature shattered into menacing shards and that's when the video abruptly ended.

There was an awkward silence for about fifteen seconds as Marcus grabbed his phone and then Twyla spoke up. “We went back to Travis Butler's locker and found this backpack, only it didn't belong to Travis. It's some kid named Willard Schubert. I don't know if it means something, but we can't rule anything out. Maybe Willard Schubert has some magical qualities.”

I shook my head. “Not a chance. He's just a face in the crowd at school.”

Marcus chimed in. “He's got something to do with this, Julie, remember what he said about Travis during the assembly? Good riddance?”

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. “Well, he's definitely got a lot of animosity toward Travis.”

“And he was at the McDonald's the morning Travis died. Maybe he's like Marla Lavik, you know? Maybe he was messing with magic and things got out of control.”

I took a sip of my hot chocolate and looked at the backpack. It was clear that Willard Schubert was involved in all of this; the question was just how deep a hole he might have dug himself. He didn't give off anything resembling a magical signature, so there was no way possible for him to conjure up an enthralment spell unless he was in possession of something so powerful that it compensated for his lack of skill.

I pointed to the backpack. “Open it up,” I said firmly.

Twyla reached over and grabbed the thick black nylon strap attached to the zipper. She gave it a sharp tug and then opened the bag. The four of us stood up as Twyla held it open to see inside.

And what we saw took even me by surprise.

Instead of text books and binders, the bag contained only a single ream of photocopier paper. I pulled it out and placed it on the table. The top sheet said three words:

Homo Fag Bag
.
 

I pulled the first sheet off to find the same words printed on the next sheet underneath, and the one after that. I split the pile in half and saw the same three words in the middle of the pile, so I lifted a corner and ran through all the sheets with my thumb.

Each page.

Three bitter, hateful words.

Homo Fag Bag

Marcus grabbed a sheet and waved it in the air. “OK, even if Willard Schubert is gay, this is some seriously hateful stuff. What kind of über-jerk would print off five hundred sheets of paper with the words ‘Homo Fag Bag' written on each page?”

I shook my head. “Clearly Travis Butler wasn't the saint everyone made him out to be. We need to track down Willard Schubert, because he's the key to unraveling what the hell is happening right now. I know he didn't kill Travis, but he's involved in this somehow.”

Twyla got up and headed back to the front door. I followed close behind and watched as she slipped her feet into her winter boots. “This is a lot to take in,” she said grimly. “I need to talk with my grandfather and see what he knows about this thing that attacked you. It could be an evil spirit for all we know.”

I handed Twyla her winter coat. “Do you think it might be a demon? Do the Tsuu T'ina even have demons?”

“Yes, and flushing toilets, too,” she said sourly. “Look, my grandfather will help us figure this out. He's very connected to the spirit world.”

I'd put my foot squarely in my mouth again and was embarrassed at my lack of knowledge about anything that wasn't white and middle class. “Shoot, I suck for saying that. I've never known a native person before. Listen, let's meet up at school to figure out our next move. I'll email you my cell number and maybe we can text if we find anything out tonight.”

“Alright,” she said as she waved to everyone still in the kitchen. “Thank you for the hot chocolate, Mrs Richardson.”

Mom dashed down the hall and said, “It's bitterly cold out Twyla, why don't I drive you?”

She shook her head and said, “It's alright. I need some time to think all of this through. I'll take the bus. It stops right in front of my house.”

Mom stuck out her hand. “Alright, dear. Be safe, OK?”

“I'll do that,” replied Twyla, and she headed out the door and into the cold.

 

CHAPTER 14

Dead in the water, that's what I was. I knew there was a connection between the attack on Mike Olsen, the murder of Travis Butler and the thing that attacked me at school. Everything pointed to Willard Schubert. And that ream of paper?

Homo fag bag?

Everyone at school knew that Willard had been the target of bullying and we'd all turned a blind eye to it, but I couldn't imagine that someone would do something so nasty as to print off five hundred sheets of paper with such a hateful message.

Like, why?

Why Willard Schubert, of all people? He was the lowest living organism at Crescent Ridge High School. Period. So what the hell did Mike and Travis plan to do with all those sheets of vile, evil crap? Were they planning to distribute them to everyone at school? That didn't make sense; they'd wind up being reported by someone with even half a heart.

I headed back into the kitchen and took a seat next to Marcus. I gave Betty a good scratch behind the ears as Mom sat down opposite me. The look on her face told me that she clearly wasn't happy about Marcus being there, but I figured that our truce would hold out long enough for everyone to put their thinking caps on.

“Betty,” I said, this time scratching under the Great Dane's chin. “Do you have any idea what the hell that thing was in the video? It only took a human-like form after Twyla's grizzly spirit creature of doom wrenched it off me. Does this have anything at all to do with the ‘
that which is yet to come
' stuff you spoke of that day in Holly Penske's office?”

The dog's tail thumped against the floor and Betty said, “What I spoke of isn't a specific event. It's the dangers you are going to face in your new life as a Shadowcull. I daresay this is the second event of many that will shape your life, Julie.”

I looked at Mom and noticed that she was picking at a small stain on the table with a fingernail. “I get the feeling that Dad's got some seriously unfinished business and I'm on the receiving end of it.”

She glanced up from the table and let out a weary sigh. “Sweetheart… I didn't think you'd be put to the test so early on. But there was no way on earth I was going to allow you to simply become a coven puppet. The world of witches is a deeply political one, Julie, but from the day you were born your father and I made a conscious choice to save you from the life he led until you were ready.”

Marcus reached for my hand and then locked his fingers around mine. “The last time I looked Julie was pretty much leading that life.”

Mom simply nodded and continued to pick at the stain on the table. “She is and she isn't… Julie wears the weapon of a Shadowcull, but she's making her
own
way and her
own
choices. By the time Julie's Dad walked out of the coven, it was too late for him. He'd been used as a pawn and when he chose to leave, well, let's just say that it wasn't exactly on the friendliest of terms.”

“And now I'm just fighting the good fight, huh?” I asked. “How the hell am I supposed to know if what happened at school today isn't related to Dad's unfinished business?”

Mom shrugged. “It probably is and now is as good a time as any to talk with him… Even you, Marcus.”

He pointed to his chest and gave Mom a slightly stunned look. “Even me? Um, wow.”

“That's right, Marcus, even you,” she said. “We'll head to the cemetery after supper. In the meantime, the afternoon is yours.”

I fired off a message to Twyla with a request for anything close to an update at her end, and then Marcus and I headed over to his house.