Magic, Kyle thought. He says it like it's nothing.
Long seconds ticked by on the clock and Will seemed lost in the past, or in the pain of whatever was happening to him now. Kyle had long since reached the point where he did not know what to believe. Magic was bullshit, but then, the book had come from somewhere. So had the note. And there was nothing ordinary about either of them.
At length, he spoke up. “So . . . so what happened? I mean, it's pretty obvious from what you've told me that you and this Brian guy fell apart after a while. You stopped messing with . . . all this stuff?”
On the table were two glass bottles of root beer. Kyle's version of hospitality. Will had sucked his down so quickly that he'd had to wipe foam off his lips. Kyle had taken a single sip and now the bottle sat on the table as if daring him to drink. But he was lost now in the story, in the possibilities.
Will gestured to the bottle. “Are you going to drink that?”
“Help yourself.”
After he had taken a long swig, Will at last looked at Kyle again. “Something happened that . . . scared us. Scared me. Not only that, but it was . . .” He narrowed his eyes. “You act the tough guy, Kyle, but you're not stupid. I knew that right off. You think of yourself as a good guy?”
This bizarre tangent forced Kyle to take a breath. He blinked, thought about it a moment, and then shrugged. “Yeah. Don't most people?”
“I'd like to think so,” Will replied. “I did, too, back then. Thought of myself as a good guy. High on my white horse. I think a time comes in everybody's life when we get knocked off that horse.” His gaze lost its focus and then his eyes slid away, but it was not memory that made Will drift this time, that was obvious. He did not want to look at Kyle while he spoke. “I did something shitty, Kyle. We did. Brian and me. I've never forgiven myself for it, and I never forgave him for it, either. But I had to move on with my life. I had to get to a place where I could take it as a lesson learned and try to remind myself why I ever thought I was a good guy in the first place.”
Will took a quick sip of the root beer, then held the cold bottle against his cheek. He laughed softly and this time there was a bit of humor in it, a gleam in his eye. “We all have our sins to pay for. For your sake, I hope it's a long time before you have to learn that lesson.”
Slowly, very slowly, Will set the bottle of root beer down. There was a despair on his face unlike anything Kyle had ever seen. The man raised his right hand, lips moving silently at first; then his voice rose, but the words sounded like gibberish. Will swore, stumbling over a word, then he started again, eyes closed. He rubbed his thumb across his index and middle fingers repeatedly for several seconds.
He stopped. Fell silent. Opened his fist.
A small flame no larger than what might burn upon a candle's wick danced in the palm of his hand.
Kyle nearly wet his pants. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, eyes wide.
Will closed his hand and a tiny tendril of smoke furled up from between his fingers as the flame was snuffed. Then Will leaned toward him so that their faces were only a couple of feet apart, his eyes locked on Kyle's.
“You knew something extraordinary was happening, Kyle. You wouldn't have let me in here if you weren't ready to hear the truth.” Will reached for the book, dragged it across the table with a sound like sandpaper on wood, and tapped it. “Someone is using magic—magic from this book—to hurt people I care about. Someone's changing the world right under my nose.”
He bit his lip, eyes closed tightly as though to ward off tears. When he opened them again fury had replaced despair. His blue eyes seemed a dismal gray now, as though storm clouds had covered the sky. “I have to set things right. Not just for those people who've been hurt . . . but also because it's affecting me, Kyle. Changing me. I don't feel the same. And I want to hold on to the person I was long enough to fix it.” His voice lowered to a confidential rasp. “You can't imagine what it's like to feel yourself changing, to know it's being done. . . .”
Another car went up the street and this time they both paused to listen. When the engine noise had diminished and the ticking of the clock and the hum of the refrigerator were all that remained, Will pulled Dark Gifts into his lap and stared at the cover.
“I need help, Kyle. You have no reason to help me. But someone brought you into this thing already with this book and with that note. You live in my old house. In my old room. I can't believe there's no significance to that. I don't know if I know anyone else I could convince, even with the hocus-pocus shit. And even if I did, I think it's a bad idea to wait. I want to get to this before anything else happens, or before I'm . . . altered drastically. Or erased.”
Kyle stared at him. After a few ticks of the clock he got up, sighed, and began to pace in the kitchen. His head hurt. His chest hurt. The image of that flame in this crazy fucker's hand was going to stay with him, he was sure of that. His parents would be home eventually and he had no idea what the guy wanted him to do. But if that little flame was possible, then couldn't it all be true? All of it.
His gaze ticked over to where the book lay in Will's lap and he shuddered, remembering the way it had felt in his hands. True or not, he didn't like that book. Not at all. The last thing he wanted to do was mess with whatever was inside it.
Striding across the kitchen again, he paused and leaned against the door frame, looking down the stairs at the darkened landing by the front door, glancing into the shadows of his living room, imagining Will James opening his presents there on Christmas morning.
But this was no dream. It wasn't some drug trip. It was impossible, sure. But what the hell did that mean?
“Tell me what's going on. Who's being hurt? Who's in danger?” he said into the shadows of the living room. Then he turned to find Will James watching him hopefully.
“And then tell me what you did that was so terrible.”
April, Junior Year
Friday afternoon was a time of bliss, with the whole weekend ahead. There would be plans, of course—the mall, a movie, maybe a party—but of late every weekend began the same way. Will boarded Brian's bus and they sat in the back, windows open, talking about everything except what they were both thinking about, the secret that they shared.
The book.
This particular Friday was no different. The bus rattled, its engine straining as it climbed up Terrace Road, exhaust fumes swirling up and into the back windows. Will and Brian ignored the fumes. That was part of the price to be paid for sitting in back. Once upon a time they would never have gotten these backseats, but they were juniors now, and juniors ruled the buses. Most seniors either had cars or rode with one of their friends, abdicating their regency over the seating arrangements on school transportation.
“What've you and Caitlyn got going this weekend?” Brian asked.
Will smiled. “Wouldn't you like to know?”
Brian rolled his eyes.
“Seriously, not much,” Will relented. “I think we're probably going to go to The Sampan tomorrow night. I want to hit the bookstore at some point this weekend, but I don't know if my mother can take me. Can't wait until I get my license.”
“No shit,” Brian agreed. He nodded slowly, then studied Will. “So you guys are pretty serious, huh?”
Will couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. “I know. I'm whipped. What can I say? Love's pretty cool.”
“I don't even know what that is,” Brian told him. “Love.”
His tone was layered. There was a level at which he was taunting Will, riding him for his dedication to Caitlyn the way all of the guys did, partially out of ignorance and partially out of envy. But Will heard more than that in Brian's words; on a certain level, he meant what he had said. He really did not understand what love was, and he seemed to regret it.
“Not that I'm a fuckin' expert,” Will said, “I'm sixteen, not sixty. But, okay, take a look up there.”
Will gestured toward the front of the bus. There were dozens of other
students there, laughing and talking, their voices blending into a kind of loud growl that almost matched the roar of the engine. There were many faces he recognized, and a handful of freshmen who were unfamiliar to him. Some of the girls were plain, or simply ordinary, but a few were cute as hell. Dori Schnell was among them, but not only was she a bitch, she was Brian's sister, so he didn't want to use her as an example.
“See Candace what's-her-name? Brillstein?” Will asked.
Brian glanced forward. The girl in question was a sophomore, a friend of Dori's who wore the miniest of tank tops and had long sandy hair, pale skin, and the most amazing eyes Will had ever seen. It didn't hurt the package at all that Candace was a flirt with perfectly round breasts that she seemed extremely proud of.
“How could I miss her?” Brian asked, shooting a lascivious look at Will.
“You could be blind,” Will suggested. “If she came up to you at a party and wanted to take you upstairs, go somewhere private, you'd go, right?”
With a sidelong glare, Brian made his answer clear. “Don't be stupid.”
“I'm not. I'm making a point.”
“Which is?”
“I'd say no.”
Brian stared at him in disbelief. “Get out of here.”
Will laughed. “I know. Crazy, huh? But true. Not that I wouldn't want to fuck her brains out. But I wouldn't do it. I couldn't hurt Caitlyn like that.”
The engine made a grinding noise as the bus driver dropped into a lower gear, taking a turn onto Cherry Street. In this part of Eastborough the roads were lined with lush old trees whose branches hung out above passing vehicles, shading the street. Branches scraped the bus as they turned the corner.
“Whatever works for you,” Brian said, arching an eyebrow. “You go, be in love. Just don't forget who your friends are. We'll still be here when she breaks your heart.”
Will stared at him, then chuckled. “Asshole.”
Brian grinned. “Yep.” He paused a moment, his smile disappearing, and then glanced at Will again. “So you up for this, today?”
An odd ripple went through Will. The skin on his hands tingled and he flushed as though he had just been caught doing something terribly embarrassing. His chest tightened as pleasure warred with guilt. That was always the way it was for him with magic. He knew that it was dangerous, that there was something nasty, even dirty, about some of the things they had done. But magic thrilled him, and its allure was impossible to ignore.
Brian was looking at him expectantly, but before Will could respond, the bus began to slow, brakes letting out a high-pitched squeal. Out the window he could see the mini stop sign swing out from the side of the bus.
They got up and ambled toward the front of the bus. Dori rose from her seat and shot a dark look at them before stepping into the aisle. Brian's sister was pretty, but whenever Will caught sight of her she sneered at him, and that cut into her beauty significantly. He figured it was a kind of guilt by association—she had to hate him because he hung around with her brother—but that sneer always made him feel small somehow.
By the time he stepped off the bus on Waverly Street, Dori was well on her way up the Schnells' long driveway. The bus driver closed the door with a hiss and there was another grinding of gears as it trundled on up the street.
“What's your hurry?” Brian called after his sister. “Do we smell?”
Dori paused at the end of the path that led to the front door and glanced back at them. Her smile was venomously sweet. “Yes, since you asked. But I'm in a hurry because I've got things to do. People to see. Places to go. You two ought to try it sometime.”
She started up the walk, a new bounce in her step, exuding triumph.
“Don't you mean people to fuck?” Brian asked lightly.
Dori froze. Will could see her shudder with fury. When she turned to them again, her face was red.
“You know,” she said through gritted teeth, “you always ask me why I'm such a bitch to you. That's funny, isn't it? That you'd have to ask.” Dori sighed and shook her head. Then her gaze drifted to Will and a bitter smile creased her lips. “In case you're wondering, Will, I'm going to a party tonight. With my boyfriend. And other people. That's called a social life. You should try it sometime. Soon. Seriously. Right now Caitlyn's the only thing keeping the whole school from thinking you and my brother are either in love or building pipe bombs.”
She brushed at the air as if dismissing them. “Take a note. Take a lesson. That's as nice as I'm ever going to be to either of you.”
Once again she turned away from them, striding to the door and digging out her key. As she fitted it into the lock, Brian followed her.
“You've really never gotten over Will seeing your tits last year, have you?” Brian asked, a nasty glint in his eye. “But I'm wondering if the reason you're so pissed off is because he never asked to see them again.”
Dori ignored him, pushing the door open, then slamming it behind her and locking it again, so that Brian had to dig out his own keys. As he did so he turned and grinned up at Will.
“Guess I hit a nerve.”
Will wished he had never come. Then he remembered what they had planned for the afternoon, and another little sizzle of anticipation went through him. Dori was a first-class bitch, there was no doubt about that. She was never quite as evil to him as she was to her brother, but Will still always felt like she looked at him as though he were dog shit on her shoe. He had thought many times how nice it would be if someone could teach the little prima donna a lesson.
Now the time had come.
THE SHADES WERE DRAWN in Brian's bedroom, the sunlight bleeding in around their edges. The door was locked. A circle of white candles burned in small crystal dishes on the floor, wax dripping like tears. Inside that circle, Will and Brian sat opposite one another with a number of objects around them, and between them, the book and a copper pot. According to Jean-Marc Gaudet, the copper was conducive to magic, and as such, vital to this particular spell.
Spell's probably the wrong word, Will thought. And he knew what the right word would be, but he did not want to admit it, even to himself.
Music pounded the wall that separated Brian's room from Dori's. It was loud enough that it had to be giving her a headache, but she would be well aware that it was annoying the hell out of them and that would be reason enough for Dori to turn it up even louder. The wall shook with every beat. Will could imagine Dori in there getting ready for the party tonight, trying on different tops and tossing the rejected ones on her bed. He had witnessed the aftermath of her preparation rituals before, the mess she left behind. Even now she was likely brushing her hair out, touching up her makeup in the mirror.
The party didn't start for hours yet, but Dori would do her best to be gone before her parents got home. Her boyfriend Ian was a senior and drove his father's cast-off Volkswagen Jetta. Will figured they had less than an hour before he picked Dori up.
But if this thing was going to work, an hour was plenty of time.
If it works . . .
Will took a deep breath and let it out, trying to clear his mind but unable to, thanks to the pounding bass beat that shook the house. Dori was a bitch, sure, but she was still Brian's sister. Someone he saw almost every day. And really, how much different was she from a lot of other little sisters, especially in high school?
Even as these thoughts entered his mind, however, they were ushered away by vivid memories of Dori snickering, whispering to her girlfriends behind an upraised hand, of a thousand tiny cruelties, not the least of which was the episode only a week earlier when he had walked into the bathroom, accidentally startling her in the middle of brushing her teeth. Will had not known she was in there, and he had given her a fright, but Dori just didn't handle things the way most people did.
She spat a mouthful of toothpaste at him. “How 'bout some privacy, asshole?”
At first, Will had been too stunned even to be angry. When he eventually called her on it, she had shot h
im her upraised middle finger and told him he was just lucky she hadn't been taking a shower.
Will stared at one of the white candles, at the dancing flame atop it.
“Hey.” Brian waved a hand in front of his face. “You're in space. What's wrong with you? No, no, Will. I know that look. Tell me you're not going to pussy out on me.”
The music seemed to pound against his skull now, and his head had begun to ache. Despite everything, he still felt a certain reluctance, and yet Brian wore an expression that was almost desperate, eyes intense, brows knitted angrily.
“Will . . .”
“You sure about this?” Will ventured. He ran both hands over his hair, making it spike up. “I mean, no secrets, Brian. I can't stand her, but she's your sister. Isn't there someone else we can use as a guinea pig?”
Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed the plastic supermarket bag that had been propped against his thigh. He glanced at the door as if to reassure himself that it was locked and then dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor, spilling out a bruised green apple, a small ball of red yarn, a plastic baggie of mixed herbs, and two other little baggies. One held a clump of hair that Brian had collected from Dori's hairbrush over the course of several weeks. Will didn't want to look at the other bag, but he caught a glimpse of it and his stomach churned. Inside was a blood-soaked tampon.
“Can you think of anyone else we wouldn't mind giving some bad luck to whose hair and blood we could get our hands on?”
Will dropped his gaze, studying the book where it lay open on the floor in front of them. The pages were rough and yellowed, the black print in a Gothic style that often made it difficult to read.
“Hey,” Brian prodded.
“No, I'm good,” Will replied, raising his eyes. “Besides, it's only for tonight anyway, right? Just to make sure it works. Tomorrow we undo it?”
The grin barely parted Brian's lips, and the amiable effect he was going for did not reach his eyes, which remained grim. “Absolutely,” he promised.
The Boys Are Back in Town Page 15
