For Better or Cursed

by Kate M. Williams

  I nodded slowly as I let her words sink in. What if I’d put Janis and Pig in more danger than I’d saved them from? Still, it was too late now. “I don’t think you want to leave the hotel right now. It’s bad out there,” I said.

  “If it’s so bad out there, then why are you two in here?” Janis said. “Isn’t it your job to make it not so bad out there?”

  Cassandra and I looked at each other. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I said, standing up. “It’s bad out there, but I think it’s bad in here too, and we’re not sure which to tackle first.” Janis grabbed another pillow, and I flinched, expecting to get it in the face again, but instead she shoved it into her lap. “Come on,” I said to Cassandra, “let’s go.” Then I turned to Janis. “We’re going to figure out how to get you out of this hotel room, and we’ll be back ASAP.”

  “What am I supposed to do if someone comes back?” she asked. I didn’t have a good answer. I wished there were something magical I could tell her, a spell she could cast or a tool she could use that would keep her safe. But there wasn’t.

  “Scream,” I said. “All four of you.”

  With a weak smile, Cassandra held up the Kros N’ Go bag. “At least we brought snacks,” she said. Janis swiped it from her with a scowl.

  * * *

  —

  Cassandra and I headed back down the hall and joined several other girls getting on the elevator. When we reached the lobby, we let them walk ahead of us, and when they were out of earshot, Cassandra whispered to me, “How are you going to get them out of that room? And where else are they going to go?”

  “I have no idea,” I whispered back. “I was hoping something would come to me.” As we walked toward the dining room, I noticed Cassandra was moving way slower than usual, still looking for Cybill—her mom—behind every potted plant and around every corner. But of course she was—her mom. Then, just as we were about to walk into the dining room, I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder.

  “So, how did you enjoy that lecture on Sitter history?” It was Brian, and he had Cass and me each by a shoulder.

  “I personally found it to be very informative and I learned a lot,” Cassandra said, easily. Brian’s grip was like a vise, and instead of letting us turn in to the dining room, he propelled us forward, right past the entrance.

  “What was your favorite part?” he asked.

  “I liked all of it,” I said. Brian stopped outside the Steve Harrington Ballroom, and then opened the doors and pushed us in.

  “Cut the crap,” he said when the doors had closed behind us. “I know you weren’t there, and so does everyone else. I had to cover for you and say I sent you on a last-minute run for party supplies. I had to pretend like I didn’t know that was against the rules, and now I look foolish, and inexperienced, in front of the Synod and the other Counsel.”

  Oh no. “Brian,” I started, “we can explain.” He turned from us and stomped over and hit the light switch. As soon as the lights came on, I gasped.

  “What?” I asked, slowly turning in a circle.

  Cassandra was as shocked as I was. “Whoa, B, this looks awesome.” Brian had been busy, and the whole room was transformed. When we’d entered, I’d thought the room smelled like Brian’s car, and now I could see why. The Steve Harrington Ballroom had been turned into a snowy alpine village: one whole corner was a tiny forest of real trees piled high with fake snow. The other corner was filled with tiny houses, the size of gnome homes, with sloped roofs and candles flickering in their windows. The tables had centerpieces of holly and greenery, and huge glittery ornaments, fit for a giant’s tree, hung from the ceiling. There were snowdrifts in the corners and up against the wall, and a sleigh, complete with what looked like really cozy blankets, set up for a photo booth. There was even a campfire for roasting s’mores, and all of Brian’s carefully chosen pale-gray plates and napkins were the color of snowdrifts in moonlight.

  “Brian, this looks amazing!” I gasped. “You did all of this?”

  “Of course I did!” he said. “You two bought blow-up dolls and wigs. You can’t be least of all with party planning.” All of a sudden, I noticed Brian looked tired. “We have approximately ten minutes before our guests start to arrive,” he said, as he looked over at the door. “Whatever. My guests. I’m done with covering for you, and I’m just going to tell it how it is from here on out. And you both,” he said, stone-faced, “are going to sit down right now and tell me what’s going on.”

  “Can I bring a marshmallow with me?” Cassandra asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Brian said. He walked over to a table and pulled out three chairs, then sat down in the middle one. Cassandra and I joined him on either side.

  “Start at the beginning,” Brian said.

  Cassandra took a deep breath and looked at me. I could tell by her face that she felt like I did: this was not the time for joking. I nodded, and she started, at the beginning, just like Brian had said. She told him about waking up the night after Halloween, and the feeling that she couldn’t remember something, and about her curse episodes and how this morning she’d accidentally removed it by knocking herself out with a toilet base and a chicken.

  I told him about the demon in the dumpster, and what was going on outside, and how we figured it was true that the Synod brought the Summit to Spring River because Erebus had scared the hell out of them on Halloween, but not for the reasons everyone thought.

  “But why would they be so scared of him?” Brian asked. “Didn’t they dispatch him pretty quickly the night of Halloween? From everything you’ve told me of your encounter with Erebus, he sounds like a gumwad.” I couldn’t help but smile at Brian’s choice of words.

  “They’re scared of him because he’s their protégé,” I said.

  “Who told you that?” Brian asked.

  “He did, basically,” Cassandra said, and told him about the 8 Ball. This was the first time Brian had heard we’d—or rather, she’d—kept it, and his lips went white with anger, but he seemed to swallow it.

  “And you believe him?” he asked, looking back and forth between us.

  “We do,” I said. “It makes sense. Where did Erebus get Red Magic in the first place? Someone had to give it to him, or at least point him in the right direction. And if the Synod was interested in experimenting with it, it makes a lot more sense for them to use someone else as a guinea pig rather than themselves. My guess is that Cassandra’s mom, Circe, and my mom started to freak out, so the Synod came in, cursed my mom, banished Erebus, and then Circe got the heck out of town before the same thing happened to her.”

  “I can’t imagine that’s the case,” Brian said. “Red Magic goes against everything the Synod stands for. Why would they want anything to do with it?”

  “Beanie Babies,” I said, causing Cassandra and Brian to both stare at me with open mouths. “I heard a rumor,” I started, evasively. I didn’t want to bring Adrian into this if I could help it. “And I saw Wanda’s phone. It’s why she’s texting all the time. But that’s just Wanda. I don’t know what the rest of the Synod want.”

  “Wealth and power,” Cassandra said.

  “Ha, that’s not Beanie Babies,” Brian scoffed.

  “No, I’m serious,” she said. “It looks different for everyone, right? For Wanda, it’s stuffed crabs full of beans.”

  “They’re not actual beans—” I started, then shut up when Cassandra put her hand up.

  “You can’t tell me that you two have never thought about it,” she continued, looking back and forth between Brian and me. “Being in the Sitterhood brings you all kinds of power, right? But you can’t ever use it for yourself. You can be a Sitter your whole life, and still never get yours. I mean, take the three of us, and then look me in the eye and tell me that we’re all living the life we want.” She leaned over and ran a finger down a branch of the c
enterpiece. “I mean, come on, B, you should be having full-page spreads in Martha Stewart or some crap like that, not coaching football.”

  Brian sat silent for a minute, then swallowed. “Don’t tell me that you’re condoning the use of Red Magic to get what you want,” he said.

  “I’m not condoning anything,” Cassandra said. “I’m just saying I understand. Being a Sitter is about having power, but you can never use that power for yourself. It’s only for protecting the innocent, and no matter what you do, no matter how much you sacrifice, you get nothing in return.”

  “You get the satisfaction of a job well done,” Brian said.

  “Oh, come on, B,” she said. “Stop talking like a high school teacher.”

  “The Synod wanted to get theirs,” I said. “And Red Magic was, and is, a way to do that. With Red Magic, Wanda could write a spell so that every time someone went to list a Beanie Baby on eBay, they shipped it directly to her instead. She could build herself a house with a wing just for BBs.” It was an atrocious, silly example, but Brian looked like he got it. He had a tiny twig reindeer in his hand, and he was making it trot along the table. “And that’s just the beginning,” I added, “because with Red Magic, she could basically have anything she’d ever wanted. They all could.”

  “I never bought it,” he said suddenly, bringing the reindeer to a stop.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The whole story about your mom,” he said, and sighed. “No offense, but Spring River wasn’t exactly top on my list of where I wanted to be posted. There were plenty of places where I could have been a Counsel and been more or less myself. But when I was assigned here, I knew it was important, not just for me but for the whole Sitterhood. Then, Esme, the more I got to know you and your dad, and see the pain you were in, it just didn’t make sense to me. If I’m being totally honest, that was probably why I waited so long to start your training. I knew the more you learned, the more questions you were going to have. Legitimate questions that had no satisfactory answers.” He swallowed again. “I apologize,” he said. “To both of you.” We all sat in silence for a second, seemingly hypnotized by our own thoughts and the glowing lights of the gnome village.

  “We’re sorry too,” I said, speaking for Cassandra and myself. “For not helping with the party, and for buying a whole bunch of wigs, and for just generally being jerks all the time.”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Oh God,” she said. “We’re not all going to hug now, are we? We can heart-to-heart later. There’s a demon apocalypse brewing outside right now, remember?”

  Brian grimaced. “That, I don’t get.”

  “Me either,” I said. “Why would you get all the Sitters in one place, lie about the Portal being sealed, but really close it just enough so that nothing can be Returned, and then let the demons build up outside? It’s almost like…” All of a sudden, the blood in my veins turned to slush and the realization hit me in the face. “Oh my God,” I said. “It’s a trap.”

  The words were just out of my mouth when the doors burst open. Our first party guests had arrived.

  Quickly, Brian reached into a bag and pulled something out. Next thing I knew, he was jamming it on my head: it was one of his knit hats. He put one on too, and then pulled one down over Cassandra’s ears. His was red with white snowflakes, hers was gray with brown reindeer, and I could only imagine what mine was. “Brian,” I whispered, “you know that spell you used to turn the wigs into these?” He was looking over my shoulder, a fake smile plastered on his face, waving at someone.

  “Yes, why?” he whispered back, still grinning and waving.

  “I need a women’s elf costume, size medium, and a pair of reindeer antlers for a dog, size XL,” I said. “And I need them quick.”

  “Why on earth?” he asked, scanning the room.

  “Janis and Pig are up in my room,” I said, “and it’s not safe for them there.” Now I had his attention, and he looked at me without saying a word.

  “Fine,” Brian said, finally. “It will give me something to do with this.” He slid a box out from under the table, and I got a glimpse of the pea-green Grinch adult onesie I’d picked out before Brian waved his hand over it and it changed before my eyes. “Now, hurry,” he said. “People are going to be looking for you, especially since you’ve been MIA all day. And remember, if anyone asks, or even suggests, you’ve both been working really hard on this party.” With that, he turned and gave a big wave at Janine, who was at one of the snack stations. “You have to try the fondue,” he called out, plastering a smile on his face as he walked toward her.

  I grabbed the elf costume and the reindeer horns, then looked up just as Mallory and Ruby came walking in. “I’ll be right back,” I told Cass. “But you should go talk to the rest of our group. Do what Brian said—pretend we’ve been working hard on the party, and also pump them for info about the demons. Find out if anyone knows anything.”

  She smiled. “Will do,” she said. “And just to double-check, we are allowed to eat the snacks now, right?”

  I nodded, and she spun around to head Mallory and Ruby’s way.

  “Cass,” I called, “be subtle.” But she was already walking away. I gave a quick glance around the room. It looked spectacular—people were already huddling around the sleigh to take pictures. The snacks were over the top, and the decor was on point, but something seemed off. I was almost out the door when it hit me: there was no music. It almost made me smile, because Brian would plan a picture-perfect party that was totally silent. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup: Janis could be the elf DJ. She would fit right in, and no one would bat an eye. And Pig was always festive, but throw a pair of antlers on her and she’d be the star of selfie squads all night. Brian was by the door, geometrically plating snowman cookies, so I ran up to him on my way out.

  “Brian!” I said. “There’s no music!” He looked up at me, expressionless, but I could tell my words had stressed him out because he squeezed a frosted Frosty so hard that it crumbled in his hand.

  “Stupid, stupid Brian,” he said, “I knew I was forgetting something.”

  “You have your phone, right?” I asked, and he nodded, brushing cookie crumbs off his pants. “Just turn a few boxes into speakers. I’ll be right back.”

  As I ran back up the stairs to our room, I couldn’t believe that I actually cared about this party. But as I passed the third floor, it hit me that wasn’t quite true. Brian cared about the party, and I cared about Brian. There was no doubt everything about this Summit was weird as heck, but if we could just get through the next couple of hours without incident, then maybe we could figure out why.

  On the fourth floor, I ran down the hall to our room and knocked on the door. “Janis, it’s me,” I called as I pushed it open.

  Inside the room, Janis stepped out from behind a curtain. “Here,” I said, tossing the elf outfit at her. “Put this on.”

  “What the…?” she started, as she caught it and held it out. “Wait, this is kinda cute.” I crossed over to Pig and put the antlers on her. They had a tiny bell that jingled every time she shook her head. “Oh my God,” Janis squealed, pulling on the elf skirt. “She looks adorable.”

  I turned to face her. “I can’t explain everything now,” I said, “because I don’t have time. But we’re having a party downstairs, and you’re going to DJ.”

  “Okay,” she said, nodding. “What do I play?”

  “Stuff people will like,” I said. “Stuff normal people will like and want to dance to, and some Christmas music.” Janis clapped her hands with glee. “Pig will be your sidekick, and that way I’ll be able to keep an eye on you guys the whole time, because you’ll be out in the open. But here’s the thing: you can’t talk to anybody, and don’t let anyone catch you looking at them. You basically have to act like a DJing robot. Don’t dance, don’t bob your head, just act like a robot an
d press buttons on the phone. You have to pretend to be under a spell where all you know is how to do your job.”

  “Got it,” she said, nodding. “And that job is DJ.”

  “It’s for your own safety,” I said. “And there’s one more thing.” She had pulled on the elf top and was adjusting the hat. I had to admit, she was right—it was a really cute outfit. “You don’t get any snacks,” I added, “because if you were really under a spell, you wouldn’t even be aware of the snacks. Same goes for you,” I said, addressing Pig.

  “Are there good snacks?” Janis asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry, yes,” I said. “There are lots of good snacks. Now come on.”

  “Wait!” she said, running back to the bathroom and throwing open the cabinet. “What about them?”

  I grimaced at the chickens. “They have to stay here,” I said. “An après-ski pit bull is already pushing it—I think two chickens might really blow our cover.”

  Janis looked torn. “But they’re being so good,” she said. I walked over, grabbed her arm, and started to pull her toward the door.

  “Janis, come on,” I said. “I don’t have anything for them to wear. They’ll be fine, I promise, they’re not even real. Okay, ready? The spell starts now.”

  Janis made her face blank, and out we went, Pig trotting obediently between us. We went downstairs, and I led them toward the party. It was hard to walk with Janis and not talk to her, but she played the part well, though I could see her eyes go wide when we walked into the Steve Harrington Ballroom. We’d barely stepped foot in the door when the squeals began. “Squee, a dog!” It was like Pig was Taylor Swift, and she was mobbed within seconds. “This isn’t a dog!” I said, loudly and full of cheer. “It’s a reindeer!”

  I figured Pig could fend for herself in a gaggle of admirers, so I put my hands on Janis’s shoulders and marched her toward the DJ booth that Brian had impressively set up in our few minutes’ absence. He’d even set out his phone, or at least a replica of it, open to his music. I turned so that my back was toward the crowd and I was standing between Janis and everyone else.