The Zodiac Collector (15 page)

This is such a crap way for her to believe in magick again. And it's all my fault. Had I listened to Gamma, we could've done this the right way. “We should tell Gamma. I already mentioned Z to her…”

What I should do is keep my mouth shut. I had wanted to get more information about her for Gamma, but how would she react to this news? An old witch giving me real stardust is one thing, but the witch coming after us because I invoked the Gemini twins is another.

“You did?” She sniffs and wipes her nose with a sleeve.

“Y-yeah, without any problems.” I extend a hand, brain whirring. I need an alternate plan ASAP, but it's not like there's a ton of people around who'd listen to me prattle on about magick. “It'll be okay. She'll help us.”

Mary ekes out a tentative smile. “Okay.”

“Girls? What are you yapping about? Can't you talk on the way? Storm's over, you know.” Dad calls to us from the back room.

“Sorry, Dad. We're leaving,” I reply.

“Why don't we stop by the arena on the way? We could check on William.” Mary tries—and fails—to twirl her hair back into ordered curls.

William. Her idea is an irresistible peace offering. I bet she's hoping to catch a glimpse of Evan again, but I can't blame her.

I pat my head and find a million lumps and bumps. My hard-earned straight hair is gone. Messy, freaky, glommed-up hair has taken over. Fantastic. “No, we don't have to.”

Mary purses her lips. “You're worried about your hair? It looks…”

“Awful, I'm sure.” I keep smoothing the frizzy curls with my fingers. As if that'll make it better.

“No, it's just wet, that's all. It'll dry.”

“Yeah, and it'll look like Aunt Meredith's wig. The thing has more knots than a string of Christmas lights.” I groan.

A knocking comes from the doorway. It's William.

“I figured you guys would come here.” He runs his hand through his dark hair. A random strand breaks loose and flops in his face, blocking one of his turquoise eyes. His boots clomp on the wooden floor as he walks inside. He smells like rain, sweat, and mud. My knees wobble.

“Are the horses okay?” I want to simultaneously leap into his arms and dive under the counter. The self-conscious monster—SCM—crowds my brain, taunting me. I shouldn't listen. William and I have known each other for
so
long. He's seen me without makeup, he's seen me in my pajamas; heck, he's even seen me after three days of not showering during a camping trip. Why do I care if my hair is a level-three disaster?

“They're fine. Made for an exciting show, though, didn't it?” His smile would normally ease the raging battle between Operation Fuzzy Confusion and Mission Sharp Excitement, but his eyes keep darting to my hair and right now, OFC is winning.

Mary chimes in. “I didn't know Evan was a squire.”

“He's trying it out.” William adjusts his sword and rests his hand on the hilt.

“Yeah, and I didn't know Shequan was a ninja.” I laugh like a hyena.

Mary raises her eyebrows.

Blushing now would turn the awkward moment into a mortifying one. The thought instantly brings heat to my face.

“I totally owe him one.” William rolls back and forth on his heels. “You were talking about wigs?”

“Oh, no, not really.” Mary clears her throat. “So what're you guys doing tonight?” She gracefully carries the conversation, which makes me blush even more. I'm a total doof. A doof with bad hair.

“The equipment will need cleaning now that it got soaked.” He spins the silver Celtic knot ring on his right ring finger. I gave it to him for his birthday last October, to cheer him up because his parents had forgotten to get him a gift. Workaholics through and through, they couldn't be bothered with celebrating things like birthdays. I know the feeling. The fact that he's wearing it has to count for something, right? Mission Sharp Excitement takes the advantage and slips ahead of Operation Fuzzy Confusion.

“Sounds like a lot of work.” I smile like a buffoon. Duh, of course it'll take a long time. Ugh. Oh, and the more he keeps glancing at my wonky hair, the more I want to run away. OFC retaliates by launching another assault.

“We all pitch in. Shouldn't take too long.” He scratches his temple.

Mary clears her throat. “We have to get some tools for Dad. You want to come with us?” She nods at me, while tilting her head in his direction.

“Sure. I just need to tell Marcus on the way. I don't want him to think I ditched.”

“Of course.” I lead the way, forcing myself not to keep both hands firmly planted on top of my head.

Mary pulls me aside while William talks to Marcus. “What's the matter with you? It's like you can't act normal or something.”

“I'm okay.” I'm so
not
okay.

“William keeps giving you strange looks.”

“Oh, thanks, that helps.” I pull the elastic out of my hair and bend over to shake out my damp locks. Throwing my head back creates a pleasant head rush. “There. Better?”

Mary snickers. “You're still worried about your hair? Is that the problem?”

“I suppose you wouldn't do the same if you saw Evan?” I retort.

She smirks but glances around anyway. “I thought you said William was just a friend.”

“He is.” But he's more than that. He's my best friend. He's sweet, smart, cuter than cute, and always there for me, ready to help whenever I need something. He's my Knight, as corny as it sounds.

I blink, struck by the inspiration-tipped Arrow of Duh. If we tell him about Zeena, he can help us figure her out. Then we won't have to tell Gamma and she won't have to get mad at me all over again. Win-win. “Shhh. Here he comes. We need—”

“Your hair is fine.” She fusses with a couple strands.

“I don't care about that.”

Her expression—a mix of, “yeah, right” and “what are you plotting now?”—wallops me.

“Okay, I do care about that, but what I'm trying to say is we should try to find a way to tell him what happened without telling him what happened.”

“Oh, Anne, come on. What will bringing William into this accomplish? He doesn't know anything about magick.”

“He'll understand.”

She spins on her heels and presses her back against the fence. “Is that so?”

“Okay, maybe he won't, but he's the least likely to think we're crazy.”

“You said Grandmother—”

William jogs up to us. “Ready?”

Mary shoves off the fence. “Let's go. We're just getting tools, right, Anne?” She gives me a toothy grin.

“Sure.”

“And that's all.”

I give her a non-committal, “Um-hmm,” and she groans, walking ahead of us with her hands fisted.

William falls into step next to me while Mary leads the way. “You guys fighting?”

“What's new?” I shrug.

“Your hair looks nice curly.”

“Thanks.” I tuck a strand behind my ear. Operation Fuzzy Confusion can suck it. “We met a new merchant today.” I change the subject and ignore Mary, who circles back to walk with us. She immediately starts gnawing on a fingernail.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

“Ze, Zee, Ze…” A
zuzzy
sound comes out of my mouth when I try to say Zeena's name.

William leans in as we walk. “Who?”

“Er, a…collector.” I almost whoop, “Huzzah!” at the success.

“What do they collect?” He kicks a stone from his path. It splashes into a puddle.

“Z-z-z…z-o,” I cough and stumble over my own feet.

“Zoo? I don't get it.”

“No, she collects z-z-z.” I point at Mary, then me.

“Twins?” He frowns.

I'm running out of ideas. “You know the symbols in astrology. There are twelve of them?”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“Just guess,” I snap.

He clears his throat. “You mean the zodiac?”

“Yes!”

William flinches. “Are you okay?”

“No, she isn't.” Mary rolls her eyes.

William scratches his neck and sucks in his cheeks.

“Never mind.” I drop the subject and we fall into silence. None of us speak until we finish gathering all the items on Dad's list. His workshop is so cluttered and full of spare wrought iron, broken metal pieces to be repaired, rusted tools, and works-in-progress that it takes us a long time to locate everything. Good thing William came with us because he identifies the things Mary and I don't know.

“Looks like we got everything. Finally.” Mary folds the list and puts it in the toolbox we're using to carry Dad's tools.

“I'm not heading back until I get into some dry clothes,” I groan. And maybe a hat, though at the rate my hair is expanding from frizz, I'd need a garbage bag to cover it all.

“First good idea you've had all day,” Mary digs.

“I'll wait for you guys on the porch.” William keeps his distance as Mary and I storm into the house.

Mom's waiting for us at the base of the stairs. Her arms are folded across her chest and her tongue is pushing out her cheek. She nods the nod of the all-knowing. “I knew I couldn't trust you two.” She eclipses the distance between us in two strides and drops to her knees, clutching at our skirts. “Just look at these gowns! They're ruined!”

My insides go all fluttery, like every organ wants to liquefy and pool into my feet.

Mary whimpers.

“The storm…it came up so fast.” I try to explain, but my voice barely makes it past my lips.

“How am I supposed to advertise now?” she wails.

“You could rent a shoppe at the faire instead of letting other vendors sell your dresses on consignment. That way, people can watch you work and you'd have all the advertising you could want.”

Mom wipes her runny nose with her arm and does a backward crab-walk to the stairs. She stuffs her hand in her pocket, digging for her trusty cigarettes and lighter. Her hands shake as she dips the cigarette to the flame. After a long drag, she says, “Doesn't matter anyway. I don't want your help, if this is what your help is.” She stands and exhales smoke in my face. My lungs instantly seize. “Get out of my sight.”

Mary tugs me toward the stairs. Mom retreats to her workroom and slams the door.

I'm out of breath by the time we reach our room. I flop on the bed, sopping dress and all, and take yet another hit of my inhaler.

“She's heinous.” Mary twists and yanks at the dress, peeling it off inch by inch. The dogs huddle around her feet, sniffing at the fabric.

“Beyond heinous.” I close my eyes and force the smoke out of my lungs, repeating the mantra, “Good air in, bad air out,” in my head.

Petal-soft fingers flitter over my forehead. “Come on. I'll help you get out of your dress.”

I open my eyes. Mary's dressed in a puffy-sleeved pirate's shirt with black leggings. A wide belt cinches her tiny waist and her coin purse dangles from her hip. Instead of a parrot, a beaked creature with feathered wings, a raccoon tail, and dragon's claws adorns her shoulder. Its cerulean-blue wings pop against its black body and bright blue eyes shine with intelligence. She's strung the wire that controls his mechanics down her shirtsleeve and has the button palmed. “You're bringing Julius. Cute.”

“You should wear your pirate costume. I'm sure Maximus would like to go for a walk.”

I glance at the top of my bookshelf where Max hangs out most of the time. His cream-colored body matches his flexible wings. Lime-green eyes frame his white beak. A fluffy spray of pale gray hair frames his face, and the same color fur covers the rest of his body.

“Borrow my hat if you want to cover your hair, even though it looks
fine.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mary and I creep downstairs. We tug on our knee-high boots outside. Neither of us says anything to William about Mom's screaming and he doesn't ask. He doesn't have to.

“Thanks for waiting,” I say.

“Sure thing. About that Zodiac stuff…” His eyes sparkle with curiosity. He takes the toolbox from me—after greeting Max and Julius; they are creatures that thrive on etiquette and refuse to be ignored—and swings it casually as we walk to the faire grounds.

I cringe, waiting for a clap of thunder, but nothing happens.

Mary looks at the sky and hugs herself.

“Do you know there are new vendors in the woods?” I ask, hoping a hybrid of charades and twenty questions will go better this time.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Let's find…the…shoppe.” If we can talk to her, tell her we're not interested in doing magick anymore, maybe she'll leave us alone. Should've thought of that sooner.

Mary stops. We're only a few feet away from the main gate. “Are you crazy?”

William's gaze slides from Mary to me.

“We can't go back there.”

“We need to find out what's going on.” I dig my fists into my hips.

“Uh, no we don't. We need to stay as far away from…you know who as much as we can.” Her eyes bulge. To bring the point home, she manipulates Julius's mechanics and turns his head side to side.

“That won't make her go away,” I counter, pressing the button on Max's control so his head goes up and down.

“What are you guys talking about?” William asks.

“Nothing,” we reply in unison.

“Right.” He walks in front of us, shaking his head. The guard doesn't check our passes.

A dark cloud hovers over the smithy. Mary tugs on my sleeve and points. “Anne.”

“I see it.”

William looks at us out of the corner of his eyes. “I don't know what's going on, but you guys are acting weird.”

“I'm sorry, William. I want to tell you, but I'm having trouble finding the right words.” Understatement of the Sixteenth Century.

“Oh my God.” Mary stops short again, this time on the smithy steps.