“I know you’re pissed, gadjo. We’ve been over this. It’s the only way Marty will let us be,” I said.
He didn’t believe me. Hell, I didn’t believe myself, believe I’d gone back on a promise I’d made to myself. After last spring, I swore I’d never let myself be alone with Marty, but what else could I try? He wouldn’t leave us alone. Even if he wound up serving time, in the meantime he could set a hundred tiny fires that would become an inferno.
“Why’s Marty after you?” Ward asked. “Even before he knew what Jonah can do, he’s sniffed around you. He said he went out with you. Was he messing with me?”
I kicked at a discarded snowball near my feet. “After we came here, we didn’t know anybody. Marty knew Chloe, and when Jonah and Chloe dated last year, Marty asked me out.”
“You really went out with him?” Ward’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and he coughed.
“No one had ever taken the time to get to know me. I didn’t know any better. I get tired of being alone. We were hanging out with Jonah and Chloe at a park, and they went off. I was alone with Marty.”
I blinked several times, cracked my knuckles poking through my fingerless gloves as my shoulders went tight. “He was nice, but I wasn’t into him. He knew it, and we were waiting for Jonah and Chloe. But it was taking a while so Marty made a move. He kept putting his hands on me. When I told him to stop, he didn’t listen and it wasn’t okay.”
“Did he hurt you?” Ward asked. The tightness had worsened, making my muscles feel like stretched bands ready to snap. I didn’t answer him, and he took my hand. “Did he hurt you?”
I didn’t want to tell him what Marty did, how he’d gripped the back of my neck when I told him no, how he twisted my wrist hard enough to leave a bruise. Jonah had never explained to Chloe how he knew to come running after me, but they’d found Marty dragging me toward a wooded walking trail as I struggled against him. A bulb in a lamp post exploded. It was the first time I shattered a light. I’d been hurt. I’d been scared. I was hurt and I was scared again—but not of Marty, rather what he could do to my family, my life.
“Don’t put yourself through this,” Ward pleaded.
“I know how to handle him.”
“Vayda…”
“I have to do this.”
Marty’s SUV snaked along the snowy drive, following the tracks etched by Dad’s Chevy when Jonah came home from taking him to work. The SUV came to halt in front of the stone house with an exhaust cloud from its tailpipe as Marty stepped out of the car. He checked over me, as if assessing my value. I buttoned my coat.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
My pulse tom-tommed between my ears. Get in, get out, and hopefully, I’d have a palm full of Marty’s memories stuffed in my pocket when I returned home.
“Come on, Vayda.” He sounded irritated as he reached for my hand.
I didn’t let him touch me as I opened the passenger door.
“Wait.” Ward put his arms around me. His lips were beside my ear, his voice a whisper. “You can walk away right now.”
“I can’t, gadjo. He’ll always be there. He hurt me. He hurt my brother. He threatened us. I can’t let him get away with that. Not anymore.”
Ward gave a low growl. As he pulled back, his fingers lingered on my wrist and elicited a spark before he trudged toward the barn.
Jonah tipped his face to the sky. “Pifkin, you’ve got no chance with Vayda. Give it up.”
What was he doing? Trying to give me an out? No. I was tired of always being afraid.
Marty ran his hands over his hair. “This isn’t about trying to get with Vayda. I wanna make her squirm. I’m gonna have a hell of a lot of fun doing it. You might have some kind of power, but I’m the one calling the shots.”
“Don’t even try to play me,” I said through the ache of my jaw, molars grinding together.
Easy, Sis. Jonah rubbed his feverish hands on my arms. The heat sank through my coat, underneath my flesh, and into my bloodstream. I’ll be right behind you. Everything’s golden.
Time to go. From the car, I stared out the window, first at my brother and then Ward as Marty drove the gravel path to the street. I was alone with him. My fingers dug into the leather of my seat, and my back was stiff.
I kept my face on the evergreen corridor. “Where are we heading?”
“Someplace to talk. We have a score to settle.”
For ten minutes, we wound through Black Orchard, not saying much over the hip-hop music on the stereo. It was heavy on the bass and shook my seat. He parked at a playground near our school. During the summer, the lot teemed with my classmates making out. That night, the park was still. Shadows whisked over the snow, ghosts and memories of the last time I was alone with Marty in this park.
He dropped his hand from the steering wheel. “So are you actually wet for that Ravenscroft punk?”
“Crude, much?” I asked.
“So aren’t you gonna ask what I want?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so subtle.”
“I understand why you were scared off before. I’m a big guy, but maybe Ravenscroft’s broken you in by now.”
I recoiled and leaned against the passenger door. “Oh, my God, Marty. Shut up.”
He reached over to the glove box and withdrew a flask, offering me a swig of whatever was inside. No way. I didn’t trust him not to have spiked it with something, even if he did uncap it and take a long slug. His hazel eyes surveyed the park, his lips shiny as he ran his tongue across the lower one. I checked for headlights. All the tightness in my neck and shoulders writhed down my veins to my fingers, but I sat on my hands. I had to store up that energy. Just in case.
The park was empty, but the park rangers wouldn’t begin patrols until ten. A car, hard to tell the color in the faint lights of the playground, was parked at the other end of the lot. Snow covered the slides and swings and blanketed the ground. Jonah and Ward should pull in shortly.
“Let’s do this.” Marty sighed and unclipped his seatbelt before popping the lock on mine.
I exhaled as he pulled me near. I had to let him get close, closer than I’d ever want him. His lips, slick and cold from the rim of his flask, found my neck. I didn’t move, didn’t push him away. Ward’s face, hurt and jealous, lodged in my brain. Though he and I talked the plan over, we both hated the idea. I felt ill and guilty, and my pulse rose in my ear, beating hard and fast like frantic wings. Energy looming and threading, faster, mounting. Filling me until it swam under my skin.
Still, I was patient. All I needed was for Marty to peer into my eyes.
His lips snaked up the side of my neck, his tongue slipping across my ear. I writhed away from him. “Stop!” Writhing under his anger, I muttered, “I’m not into that.”
He moved his face to my neck once again but didn’t kiss me. Instead, his breath, which smelled bitter—bourbon—blew against my cheek. “So what is your brother, some kind of mutant?”
“Marty Pifkin, your wits have been damaged by too many comic books.”
Glowering, he drew a lighter from his pocket. The flint scratched. A flame stretched up from the lighter only for Marty to let it die out. Again, a scratch of the flint and hiss of butane as the flame wavered between us. Then darkness. Without warning, he stepped out of the car, stalked around to my side, and yanked open my door. “We’re taking a walk.”
Marty’s hand extended to me, but I wouldn’t let him touch me if I could avoid it. His energy was awful enough; I didn’t want another physical touch to overwhelm what I already had stored inside and kept a foot of distance between us as we strolled along the icy walkway toward the playground. I needed to stay calm, but edginess needled me. Headlights illuminated the street leading to the park, and my stomach sank: not the Chevy, but a minivan rolling toward the subdivision beyond the park.
“You see the cuts on Sister Tremblay’s face? Jonah jacked her up, did
n’t he?” Marty asked.
“He didn’t do it. My brother’s got a temper, but he’s not a psychopath,” I snapped, wetness from the snow permeating my jeans. “Why do you hate him so much? All he did was stop you when you were out of control.”
“He thinks he’s better than everyone.” Marty glimpsed over his shoulder. I glanced around, only the shadows of the playground looming across the streetlamp-lit snow. “He told me I’m not good enough for you.”
His energy hopped, one moment bogged down with spite and the next a blip of excitement. This wasn’t right. His thoughts weren’t clear or easy to track—could have been the booze—and my feelers instead extended toward my brother but only found frustration. Something messed up Jonah’s plan. If I kept Marty distracted, I’d find my opening to his memories, a vulnerable blink.
A breeze blew loose snow in my face, and I asked, “Why would I be too good for you? If it’s because I’m Rom, well, I’m with Ward and he’s not like me.”
Marty snorted. “It’s because Jonah thinks he’s special. He moves things without touching them. I can guess why Chloe fell for him, but he’s one twisted bastard. You’re like him, right? Show me how you do it.”
Nausea battled my stomach. He roosted on a park bench and motioned me to sit, though I stayed at the opposite end. The streetlamp cast dark slashes across his face, the angles of cheekbones and the cleft in his chin turning to black gouges.
“So, Vayda”—his voice was a raspy scrape in the night—“did your mom scream as she burned alive?”
I launched to my feet. My eyes bulged, heart pounding. I ran, but Marty’s meaty fingers snatched my wrist and wheeled me around against his body.
“Yeah, I know about it.” He backed me toward the bench, his feet clumsily crushing mine. “Maybe with this little game changer, I will have more than tonight with you.”
“H-h-how’d you find out about my mom?” I fought against his grip, and the more I struggled, the more energy leaked out of me in small shocks, heat that melted the snow around our feet. He knew not only about the Mind Games. He knew about our past. How long had he known?
He bent forward to touch his nose to mine. “Sister Tremblay left your file wide open on her desk. I’m not much of a reader, but that was interesting. Your family has lots to hide, more than I imagined.”
He shoved me, and I fell against the bench. For a moment, all I saw were flashes of red and white, pain blinding me. Marty stood over me with his legs spread wide to block my escape, and he reached into his pocket, flicking on his lighter. The flame quavered in the wind. “Scared of fire?”
I couldn’t show weakness. He’d pounce if given an opportunity. I blew out the flame. He had to try harder to make me flinch.
A sickness, something twisted, oozed out from the playground. Marty’s energy had a far reach, and this gripped me so hard and close that I wanted to puke.
Suddenly, the left side of my head banged against the bench. Blood gushed from my scalp as I dropped to my hands and knees. I touched my head and tried to stand, but I was too dizzy to hold myself up. “Mother of God, that hurts.”
Marty squatted beside me, though I couldn’t see his face. My forehead ached, my brain ached. I had to get into his head to take his memories, of all that he knew about us.
Jonah, where are you?
Another slap to my face, and I screamed. “Stop!”
A whimper accented each breath I released as his hands blocked my floundering arms.
“Everyone’s gonna find out you’re freaks,” Marty hissed and pried my legs apart.
“Do it, Marty!” a girl shouted.
Blood streaming down my forehead, I made out Chloe’s silhouette sauntering from underneath the playground slide. The wind blew her blond hair, and her blue coat shielded her from the coming storm. Her plaid skirt revealed bare, cold-red legs, but she didn’t even seem to notice that she could get frostbite. Her hands pumped in and out of fists, and I couldn’t help but recall Jonah and the way he shook out the energy from his hands. Her energy, black and sour like burnt molasses, clung to her. It was identical to Marty’s.
Danny lagged behind Chloe, his tan skin greenish under the lights. The urge to flee from the pack pounded off him. “She’s scared enough! Can we go?”
“No!” Chloe screeched. “This bitch needs to know what it’s like to be used.”
Marty nodded at Chloe and forced his body over mine. He ripped at my coat, fingers fumbling with the buttons on my pants. A fingernail scratched my hip as his hand stretched below the waistband of my jeans.
“Get off me!” I wailed.
“This is going too far!” Danny yelled. “Marty, come on! You’re done, right?”
Yet he didn’t sound so sure.
Marty pushed a bloody strand of hair from my face. He lowered his mouth, his lips against my bared teeth, his moan swallowing my sobs.
“Your brother has to be stopped,” Chloe snarled behind him. “You think I didn’t know Jonah was to blame for what you said at the coffee shop? I told Marty to find him at Fire Sales. He had a good time working Jonah over. Vayda, you let Jonah hurt me. You even tried to bail him out, but, whatever you did to me, the memories came back. It’s your time to be hurt.”
Tears on my cheeks, my hands surged with cold fire. Energy. Rising.
Marty lowered his hard chest to mine. A shock erupted from my palms. Airborne, he sailed off me, landing far away on his back.
Motionless. Dead?
Did I care if he was?
“Oh, my God!” Chloe screamed and ran to Marty’s fallen form.
Lying on my back and crying, I saw Marty’s chest rise and fall. I swiveled my head in the powdery snow smeared with blood. A car’s headlights burned my sight as the vehicle careened through the parking lot. An engine idled, the chug of the Chevy. The heaps of snow beneath me began to melt from Jonah’s fire flowing toward me and soaking my clothing. He was here. Thank God.
Danny reached his hand to me. “Are you hurt?”
I couldn’t answer. My head throbbed, and the energy riding my palms battered my being—blood, bones, sinew, spirit, all electrified.
“Get away from her!”
Ward shoved Danny before moving to where Chloe knelt with Marty. She shrieked and retreated while Ward kicked Marty.
“I will break you!” Every word Ward yelled emphasized a blow to Marty’s back. “I will fuck you up!”
“Ward, stop!” I shouted, crouching on my knees. Jonah hoisted me to my feet under my arms. I caught his dark eyes as he forced my fingers between his, collecting the energy bailing from me between our hands.
“Hang on, Vayda.”
Our hands interlocked. A whorl of fire smashed against glacier-cold. Waves of energy streamed out, and a breaker of light thrust across the snow. Sightless, all I could sense was an ice-burn slipping under my flesh. My back collided with the earth as the force fell out across the playground. In time to see Chloe flung onto her chest, my vision returned and shifted to Ward landing on his side, both taken out by the expanding blast.
For sixty seconds, a paralysis deadened the playground. Tender and pummeled, I crawled through the snow to Ward. He sat up to rub his shoulder. We helped each other stand and leaned into one another’s bodies as the blast’s residue dissipated like a shot of Novocain wearing off. A nudge each to Danny, Marty, and Chloe roused them enough to know they were unhurt. Jonah balanced against the bench and caught his breath before walking back toward the Chevy. He opened the trunk and removed the blankets Rain gave us to keep warm during our trip from Hemlock. I wrapped a blanket around my wet clothing. Ward climbed in the backseat beside me and covered me with his jacket.
“We should call the police,” he said.
“No,” Jonah and I both said at once. “No cops.”
“What are you gonna tell your dad? Vayda, your face is all banged up.”
I anchored my ba
ck to the seat. Every inch of me throbbed. “I’ll tell him I fell on the ice. I don’t want Dati going after Marty.” I hugged myself, forcing myself not to feel the hurt where Marty held me down. “I…I want to go home.”
Behind the steering wheel, Jonah examined the park, watching while Chloe and Marty made an effort to stand. His shoulders vibrated. He had to be so infuriated to sit and shake, but a tear slipped down his cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Sis. I should’ve known it was coming, but I never thought—”
“Stop it!” Ward yelled. “It’s done. A train stopped us. It was a shitty plan. It’s done, and thank God, we got here.”
Jonah clubbed the steering wheel with his palm. “I should’ve handled Marty. There’s no way word of this won’t get around. I’m sorry because you love my sister, but we can’t stay.”
Love? The word neither Ward nor I had chanced saying yet it was the only word that would do. He held his sleeve to the cut on my forehead. That was love.
Jonah turned the key in the ignition and drove away. Evergreens lined the streets, and the ground was white, the sky was black. No stars, no moon, no clouds.
“They might not talk,” I said as Jonah steered into our driveway.
“Sis, you know that’s not true. They’ll talk, and, inevitably, we’ll run.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ward
A dozen or so students gathered near Vayda’s locker scratched with bubbly letters: WITCH.
“Real nice!”
I pivoted in time to see Vayda’s creased forehead, still yellow and green with bruises, before she darted into the restroom. A witch’s cackle rose above the rumble of too many people talking.
Jonah’s fist thwacked his locker. More tittering. Two weeks of relentless ridicule had unwound him, and he held out his arms, offering himself up for a fight. Or a pie in the face. “You want a freak show? Fine!”
Every open locker in the hall slammed shut in banging succession like falling dominos.
Then stunned silence. The other students backed away as Jonah shoved past me toward the physics lab but not before whipping a trash bin across the hall upside-down, scattering papers.
A Murder of Magpies Page 22
