Shadow Demons

by Sarra Cannon

  Diamond stud earrings. Exactly like the ones Drake had tried to give to me a month ago. Exactly like the one I found in the secret library room of the crow’s village.

  “You’re such a snob,” Drake said, laughing. “What really happened to the earrings? Did you lose them already?”

  I had to lean against the wall for support. The hallway seemed to be spinning in circles. There’s no way this was a coincidence. But what was Brooke doing in the crow’s village? And how did she get down there in the first place?

  A ice-cold chill ran up my spine as her words from yesterday ran through my memory. When I’d told her I would gladly hand over my title of Prima if I could, what had she said?

  Maybe you’ll have your chance.

  If Brooke and her mother had the crow’s spell books…

  The door to Drake’s room flew open and they both stumbled out, their arms wrapped around each other. As soon as they saw me standing there, both of their faces went white.

  “Hey Harper,” Drake said. “How’s it going?”

  “Peachy,” I said, remembering Brooke’s phrase from yesterday.

  “You better get dressed,” Brooke said. “The party’s starting any minute.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. See you down there?”

  The new couple walked away, hand-in-hand, and all I could think as they made their way down the stairs was that they were absolutely perfect for each other.

  Sooner Or Later

  Guests had already started to arrive. Their excited voices rose up from the foyer. A string quartet played on the second floor landing, the sweet notes of classical music signaling the official start of the Halloween Ball.

  All the rest of the girls had gone already gone downstairs, so I was able to change in privacy. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, using magic to create beautiful large black wings and a black halo.

  It felt like the calm before the storm. The dark clouds had been swirling around me for months now, but somehow I knew that soon, it would all come to a head. A choice would have to be made, and in that one moment, I knew I would be able to draw from the strength of all the women who had come before me.

  I walked down the stairs, letting my fingertips trail along the edge of the banister. My heart beat quick in my chest. I looked down at all the people gathered in the entryway. Every one of them had secrets they guarded with their lives.

  But that was the thing about secrets. They rarely stay secret forever. Sooner or later, someone always finds out.

  Running Out Of Time

  Jackson had asked me to meet him by the gate at six-thirty. I somehow managed to slip through the crowd and out the door just on time.

  Miniature white lights illuminated the walkway. The Ashworth’s driveway was packed with cars. The sun hung low in the sky, a sign that fall was truly here.

  A motorcycle was parked out by the gate, and my stomach fluttered when I saw it. He had come.

  But as I got closer, I noticed that there was another motorcycle parked just outside the gate. Jackson stood beside it talking to someone.

  I approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt him. In the darkness, I finally made out the figure of the person he was talking to. A girl. And not just any girl. One of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen.

  She had black-brown hair that fell in one long braid down her back. Her lips were pouty and red. She stared at Jackson with soulful eyes as black as midnight. Her light brown skin was flawless. She wore tight leather pants and a leather halter top that didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. Jealousy immediately gripped my insides.

  Jackson stood close to her, a stance of familiarity that nearly broke my heart. Who was this girl? I’d certainly never seen her in Peachville before.

  I just stood there like an idiot, staring at the two of them.

  They seemed to be arguing about something, and the girl kept reaching forward to touch his arm.

  Jackson pulled away, running a hand through his hair and turning toward the house. He stopped when he saw me, his eyes wide.

  “Harper,” he said. “I was just going to come looking for you.”

  The girl in leather got on her bike quickly, not even bothering to introduce herself to me. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said to Jackson. “But you’re running out of time.”

  She looked from him to me, then sped off down the street.

  I didn’t move. This was the last thing in the world I expected to see when I came out here tonight. I waited for him to say something, but he just stared after the girl, who by now had completely disappeared down a side street.

  I walked over to a nearby crepe myrtle tree. Its pink flowers were still in bloom even though they were long out of season.

  “I’m sorry,” Jackson said. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

  I picked at one of the pink blossoms, not sure what to say. Wasn’t that the line guys always fed to their girlfriends when they’d been caught cheating?

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  “Her name is Lazalea,” he said. “She’s an old friend.”

  “What is she doing in Peachville?”

  Jackson leaned up against the brick wall that surrounded the Ashworth’s property. “It’s complicated,” he said.

  “It’s always complicated,” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to sound so incredibly jealous, but there was something between them and he wasn’t being completely honest with me.

  “Harper, come on,” he said. “Can we not get into this right now? I promise I’ll-“

  “You’ll tell me later,” I said, turning away. “I know.”

  He was constantly putting me off until later. I understood why he had a hard time opening up to anyone, but weren’t we past that yet?

  Jackson sighed and came up behind me, putting his arms around my waist. “Lea is not who I want to be thinking about right now,” he said. He turned me around and held my arms out, looking at my dress. “You look…”

  He didn’t finish his statement. He just stared at me in surprise.

  “I look what?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.

  Jackson paused. “You look beautiful,” he said.

  There was a sadness in his voice that gave me the chills.

  His eyes grew dark, his eyebrows drawn together. “You know how sometimes a memory or a thought can be right there at the edge of your mind, but then it’s fuzzy and unclear? That’s the way I feel looking at you right now.”

  “This was my mother’s dress,” I said. “I found it in the attic last night with a bunch of her things. Maybe you saw her in it once.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I can’t remember.”

  Two more cars drove up through the gate. Jackson led me away from the noise, toward the side of the house where a swing hung from an old oak tree. I sat down in the swing, not ready to go inside yet. The longer I could avoid Mrs. Ashworth and the others, the better.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said.

  “Anything,” he said.

  “How come you never told me you gave my mother a potion?” I asked.

  Jackson looked at me strange. “What are you talking about? I never gave her a potion.”

  “Please, don’t lie to me,” I said. “I know that you did.”

  “Harper,” he said, his neck tense. “I am not lying to you. What makes you think I gave her a potion?”

  “Last night I found something,” I said. “A journal my mother wrote the year I was born. In it, she said that you helped her. That you gave her a truth potion.”

  Jackson began to pace, his jaw clenched. “She couldn’t have been talking about me,” he said. “Do you have the journal with you? I need to see it.”

  I shook my head. “It’s in my bedroom at Shadowford,” I said. I wanted to believe him, but I’d been sure it was him she was talking about. She’d called him a demon. It had to be him. So why didn’t he remember it?

  “Do you know who my mother’s best friend was in high school?” I asked. �
�I mean, someone she was close enough to that she would have trusted them with her secrets?”

  “I never really noticed her hanging out with anyone but the girls on the cheerleading squad,” he said. “Why?”

  “In her journal, she talked about a best friend. Someone she told about the baby. About me.”

  Jackson thought for a second. “I guess if there was anyone she hung out with the most, it was Lydia James,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling a rush of heat on my neck. “In the journal she called her “L”.”

  “But I don’t think Lydia knew anything about the baby,” he said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because after your mother died, Lydia disappeared for a while,” he said. “Rumor was that the Order took her in and bound her in chains, possibly even tortured her trying to get some information out of her, but she swore the whole time that your mother never told her a word about a baby.”

  “Is she still around here?” I asked. “If I could just find her, maybe she would talk to me. Help me find some answers.”

  Jackson stopped and looked at me, his eyes questioning. “You know her,” he said. “Lydia James got married about five years after she graduated from high school. Now, she’s Lydia Ashworth.”

  Who Can Tell The Difference?

  “Mrs. Ashworth?” I said, a heavy feeling in my stomach. Drake’s mom had been my mother’s best friend? She couldn’t be the same person who’d tried to kill my mother, could she?

  “They were inseparable for years,” Jackson said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I shook my head. It didn’t make sense.

  “I never thought it was important,” he said, letting go of my hand when I started to pace. “They were best friends, but after she died, Mrs. Ashworth swore Claire never told her anything about her private life. She told everyone she was just as surprised as they were to find out the truth.”

  “And everyone believed her?”

  Jackson nodded. “They cast spells on her to make sure she was telling the truth,” he said. “About four years after your mother’s death, they all voted to make her the local leader of the Order of Shadows until you returned.”

  “Who was the leader before her?” I asked.

  “An older woman named Melba Holloway,” he said. “She was the oldest living member of the Order when your mother passed, so the title of leader naturally went to her at the time.”

  My head swam with questions. “And she passed it to Mrs. Ashworth?”

  “When she died, the council voted,” he said. “I don’t know the details, but somehow Lydia Ashworth came out on top. I never thought to question it.”

  My skirt swished around my legs as I walked back and forth in front of the oak tree. I was close to figuring something out. I could feel it. But how did it all come together? If Mrs. Ashworth was the “L.” my mother was talking about, she would have known about the baby, though. Some piece of the puzzle was still missing.

  “Are you sure you don’t remember anything about a truth potion?” I asked.

  Jackson shook his head. I studied his face. Was he telling me the truth? I could have sworn he was the “J” in her journal, but why would he lie to me about that now?

  Inside, the string quartet stopped playing and the voices died down.

  “We should get in there,” I said. “It sounds like they’re starting.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Jackson took my hand and led me around the house to the entrance of the large tent where the dinner was being served.

  The crowd parted for us, many of the women looking at our linked hands with a frown. I could tell they didn’t know how to react. I was their Prima Futura and they wanted to love me, but at the same time, they wanted me to be someone else.

  Three white angels stood off to one side of the stage near the front of the tent. They turned in unison as Jackson and I approached.

  Lark’s eyes grew wide and she squealed. “Oh my god, you look amazing,” she said. “Let me see your wings.”

  I turned so she could touch my feathery black wings.

  “We were all supposed to be good angels,” Brooke said, pouting. “That was the whole point. You look evil.”

  I leaned toward Brooke and raised a single eyebrow. “In this town, who can tell the difference?”

  Was It You?

  Throughout the rest of the night, I kept my eye on Mrs. Ashworth. It wasn’t hard since she was wearing a bright red sequined dress. I wanted to catch her alone so I could ask her about my mom. Unfortunately, as the current leader of the Order of Shadows, she was like a social butterfly, flitting from one table to another, talking to everyone in the room.

  The party began with a four-course dinner that was actually really delicious. I’d never eaten a fancy meal like that before where waiters picked up your food and offered you coffee and dessert. I felt slightly out of place with all the fancy silverware on the table, but Jackson made it fun and Lark showed me which fork to use with each course.

  After the dinner was a brief ceremony where the “Peachville Women’s Society” gave out awards for various acts of community service. I laughed when I heard the name they’d given the group. I’d been wondering how they would celebrate the Order without actually being able to tell everyone in the room who they really were. The men clapped politely while the women shared secret glances and private jokes.

  Brooke helped pass out the awards, which apparently was supposed to have been my job as Prima Futura. I was relieved to be able to stay firmly in my seat.

  Once the ceremony was over, everyone made their way inside to the ballroom. The beautiful wood floors were polished and gleaming. At least a thousand candles had been placed around the massive windowsills that lined three of the walls. An orchestra played at one end of the room and a long table with refreshments had been set up on the opposite side.

  Jackson and I made our way slowly into the ballroom. I stretched my neck to try to see where Mrs. Ashworth had gone. I’d lost her in the crowd.

  “Calm down,” Jackson said. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk to her. Why don’t you just go by her house tomorrow afternoon or something? I’ll come with you.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t want to talk to her tomorrow,” I said. “I want to talk to her tonight. She was my mother’s best friend at one point, Jackson. She has to know something. Maybe she even knows who my father was. What if he’s still alive?”

  “I get it,” Jackson said. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t stress yourself out if you don’t get a chance to talk to her.”

  We moved over to a spot near the large arched entrance to the ballroom. That way, we were enough out of the way not to annoy people, but still close enough to the door to see everyone who came in.

  The ballroom filled up quickly, but there was still no sign of Mrs. Ashworth. I was getting antsy. My stomach flip-flopped. I knew Jackson was right. I could talk to her any old time, but I’d waited so long already. I couldn’t bear to wait another minute. Besides, if she really was the one who had plotted to kill my mother all those years ago, I deserved to know.

  Finally, I spotted her bright red dress through the crowd. She was still standing in the foyer, milling about and talking to people who were leaving early. I bit my lip. Would it be rude to go interrupt her? Tell her I needed to talk?

  I was already on her bad side after our argument earlier in the afternoon. Maybe Jackson was right and the party was the wrong place to bring this up.

  I bounced on my tip-toes, full of nervous energy. The crystal prisms hanging from the chandelier above us began to sway and clink together. I cringed. Ever since the Heritage Ritual, my powers seemed to be stronger than ever.

  Jackson laughed. “Just go talk to her before you end up bringing the light fixtures down on our heads,” he said. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Do you mind?” I asked. “I wouldn’t ask except that she got re
ally angry with me earlier, and I completely lost my temper and broke a vase. Maybe if you’re there with me, I’ll be able to control myself.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” he said, then motioned toward the foyer.

  My muscles tensed and my hands trembled as we crossed into the entry-way. Mrs. Ashworth was talking to a couple I recognized as the parents of one of my teammates. I caught her eye as I walked up and she did a slight double-take.

  She excused herself from the couple and turned to walk away. I couldn’t shake the feeling she was purposely trying to avoid me.

  “Mrs. Ashworth,” I called, chasing after her. “Do you have a second? There’s something I’d really like to talk to you about.”

  She paused, her forehead creased. Her eyes traveled up and down my dress. She opened her mouth, but didn’t say a word.

  “Mrs. Ashworth?”

  She frowned. “Yes?”

  “Can we talk?” I asked again.

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “Yes,” she said, her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, I just had the strangest feeling of deja vu.”

  I looked to Jackson. They’d both had a similar reaction to this dress. I wondered again when my mother had worn it. Something was definitely triggering a memory for both of them. A memory that seemed stuck inside their minds.

  “Should we go into the other room?” I asked, looking around for a place that might be quiet and more private.

  Mrs. Ashworth waved off my suggestion. “No,” she said. “I haven’t got much time.”

  I cleared my throat and picked at the polish on my nails. “This might seem, well, it’s a little bit of a strange question,” I said, stumbling over my words. Now that I was standing right here in front of her, I realized I couldn’t just come right out and accuse her of some strange betrayal sixteen years ago. “I was wondering how well you knew my mother.”

  Mrs. Ashworth tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “We all knew your mother,” she said. “We were on the same cheerleading squad together.”