by Norah Wilson
Brooke dove toward them, pulling up at the last instant. The pack fell back, one of them actually urinating on itself as it cowered low. They were terrified! Brooke laughed.
“Come on, that’s enough!” Maryanne said, falling back.
“Yeah, leave ’em alone, Brooke.”
“Okay,” she said. “In just a minute.” With that, she buzzed the pack again, but this time the coyotes turned tail and raced off, the path to freedom having opened up when the girls abandoned their positions. Brooke zoomed after the retreating pack. With the wind in her face, she could smell the wild, musky scent of them, mixed with fear. It was heady stuff.
“Run, you scaredy-cats!” she shouted. “Run! Run!”
Brooke heard a noise behind her and turned to see the Alex and Maryanne had joined her in the chase. The coyotes ran harder, stretching for the safety of the forest just ahead. When they reached the woods’ protective cover, the girls swung back, laughing.
“That was awesome!” Brooke said.
“Amazing,” Maryanne agreed.
“Hey, guys, maybe we should think about going back.”
Brooke turned to gape at Alex. “What? We just got out here!”
“We’ve probably been out longer than we think,” she said. “And remember, we’re still back there, paralyzed, vulnerable. Anything could happen.”
Man, she missed the old Alex. This one was a real wet blanket. Even Maryanne seemed downright adventurous in cast form. But instead of launching into yet another harangue about the futility of Alex trying to change her spots at this late date, Brooke decided to reason with her.
“If anything happened, we’d know it,” Brooke pointed out. “Or can’t you feel yourself—your original—lying back there? I can feel mine.”
“Oh, I can feel her... er, me. Or however the hell I should say it. But still... someone could come along. Maybe somebody heard us when we fell to the floor and they’ll come to investigate.”
“We had a nice, soft, quiet landing on the cushions, just like we planned,” Brooke corrected. “If they didn’t hear us the other night, no way would they have heard us tonight.”
“That’s right,” Maryanne said. “We made a heck of a lot more noise that other night. Remember? You falling from a standing position with a big thump, and us rushing around trying to figure out what to do for you. Then when you came back in... ”
“Yeah, that made a lot of noise, too. You choking the hell out of Maryanne, I mean.”
“Thank you for that reminder, Brooke.”
Brooke grinned. She couldn’t see Alex’s eyes—or any features of her face, for that matter—but she was completely certain Alex was glaring at her right now.
“I still think we should go back. This is our first time; we should take it easy, learn the ropes.”
“Suit yourself,” Brooke said. “But I have somewhere to go first before I’m ready to go back.”
She turned to leave but Maryanne called to her. “Wait! We should all go back together. In case... you know... one of us has trouble getting back in.”
Whoa! Trouble getting back into her body? She hadn’t even thought of that. Part of her knew that prospect should give her some anxiety, but it didn’t.
“Then come with me,” Brooke said. “It’ll be fun!”
The girls returned to the river.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Alex said, surging up beside Brooke. “Where are we going?”
“To pay a visit to Seth Walker.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Maryanne said, zooming up to flank Brooke’s other side.
“Are you kidding? It’s a great idea.”
“Wait, who’s Seth Walker?” Alex asked.
“The guy she dropped that bomb on in front of his friends,” Maryanne said.
Alex snorted. “The imaginary HPV infection?”
“That’s the guy,” Brooke said grimly. “And that’s his place down there. The one with the big paddock and horse barn.”
Seth’s house was a ranch-style monstrosity. He’d never actually taken her home to visit, but they’d gone there once, so he could run in and retrieve a gram bag of weed. She should have known what a pussy he was then, too paranoid to carry that miniscule amount on him until the very minute he intended to smoke it. She’d waited in the car as instructed, but he had pointed out which second-floor window was his bedroom. She definitely should have known what a dick he was when he failed to invite her in and introduce her to his family.
Well, tonight Seth was going to get a little payback.
“Whoa.” Maryanne stopped a few hundred yards from the house. “This is as far as I go. You want to spy on him, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
“Me too,” Alex said.
“Fine by me.” She really didn’t need an audience for this next part.
Calmly, she soared over the neatly mown lawn and the pretty flowerbeds and around a big oak tree to hover outside Seth’s window. And yes! He was home. Of course, where else would he be in the dead of night? At least, she thought it was him. It was hard to tell from here. But she was sure it was the bedroom he’d pointed out to her. He’d even given her a wave from the window. Yeah, this was it.
Now... how to get in?
She approached the window. She could probably go through it, just like she’d run her hands through that pine, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to try it. For all she knew, a second trip through glass in caster form could have unwelcome consequences. But as she got closer, she saw the window was wide open, covered only by a mosquito screen, which struck her as odd. It was quite chilly tonight. She could see sleeping with the window cracked, but jacked wide open? Then she caught the faint but distinctive odor of pot. Ha! He was airing the ganja stink out of his room while he slept. She stifled a laugh, then wondered why she bothered. No one could hear her but Maryanne and Alex. Moving into a horizontal position, Brooke slipped in through the screened window slick as water flowing through a sieve.
She drifted over the big queen-sized bed, and yes, the sleeping form in it was Seth. He slept on his back with both arms thrown up to rest on the pillow by his head. The posture put her in mind of a sleeping baby. An innocent. She shook her head, denying the comparison. As if! More like an arrogant man who felt so secure in his world, he believed nothing could harm him. Golden boy! He didn’t have to curl on his side and hug his pillow. He didn’t feel the need to roll over to protect his soft underbelly. Apparently life hadn’t dealt him any low blows.
Dammit, Seth, why’d you have to go and be such a total jerk? I liked you. I more than liked you. But you didn’t like me very much, did you? I wasn’t girl-next-door-wholesome enough for your parents, was I? And then, when I finally get dirty with you, which you’d been begging for, for months, I’m suddenly yesterday’s stinking garbage?
She drifted closer, wishing she could actually grip something. Handy as it was to be able to move through solid objects, she wished she could just take a handful of Seth’s hair and give it a vicious rip. And how weird was that when you thought about it? She could actually touch her fellow casts, but the ‘real’ things around her, the material things, she moved right through them.
Then she remembered the way it had felt went she put her hand through the boughs of that tree. It had left her with a powerful sense of the bough itself, if only fleetingly. What if she were to stick that same hand inside Seth’s head? Would she come away knowing something?
Even as the thought formed, she acted on it. She was ready to see her fingers disappear into him, but to her shock, they made contact with his scalp. She jerked her hand back, and he twitched and murmured in his sleep. Shit! She could touch him. Well, if she could touch him... she could damn well yank his hair!
She did, wrapping her fingers in those glossy blond locks and giving them a really good tug.
He roared and his arm shot up. Before she could lift far enough away, he’d grabbed her by the wrist. Shit! She was snared. Her first time out and she damn well go
t herself caught. She renewed her efforts to pull away, fighting madly.
“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my room?”
“Let me go!” she yelled, but of course he didn’t hear her. She struck at his arm, but he was so much stronger. And he was pulling her toward the side of the bed. Oh, crap, he was reaching for the lamp! Frantic to escape, she opened her mouth and let loose a bellow of rage and desperation.
And omigod, the sound that came out! It was unearthly! A foghorn deep, wall-shaking primal scream! It must have rattled Seth to the bone—quite literally—for she felt it sink into him and travel back up his arm. He released her instantly, snatching his hand back.
Because she was still freaking out that that sound had actually come up from somewhere inside her, it took her a second to realize that she was free. As soon as that fact registered, she zoomed to the window, but she was a second too late. Seth hit the switch on his lamp just as she dove through the opening.
“What the hell?” She heard his panicked shout as she disappeared through the mosquito screen and rushed away from the building. She also heard another male voice as someone—presumably Seth’s dad, or maybe his brother Bryce—broke into the room. As fun as it would have been to hang around and listen to Seth explain how a shadow had attacked him—or oh God, the lingering smell of the joint he’d smoked—she was frankly too shaken.
Besides, Alex and Maryanne were there, tugging at her.
“Come on, come on, let’s go!” Alex urged.
Brooke didn’t need any convincing, but before she could move, the night exploded in a white ball of light. What now? Oh, God, a yard light! Someone had turned on a light on a giant pole next to the house.
“Up!” Alex cried, and shot straight up into the air, beyond the light’s reach.
Below, Seth and Bryce spilled out the house’s front door, down the porch and onto the grassy lawn. “There!” Seth pointed to them. “Up by my window.”
“Up, dammit!” Maryanne grabbed Brooke’s arm and the two of them arrowed straight up and out of sight.
And oh, God, Brooke felt like she was having a heart attack. Not cast Brooke, but original Brooke. Back there in the attic, her heart was tripping like crazy. And her lungs! Man, she was working for oxygen while her body jittered, limbs twitching spasmodically.
“Jesus, what was that?” Bryce’s voice was high with fright. “And it was in your room?”
“Damn straight it was. And it pulled half my hair out!”
“But what was it?”
“What do you think it was, idiot? It was the Mansbridge Heller!”
The girls didn’t stick around to hear anymore. They broke for home at top speed. Which, Brooke noticed, didn’t seem to be as fast as before. Was it just that they were getting used to the sensation of flying, or were they actually moving slower? Her limbs did seem heavier now, as though she’d gathered weight somehow as the night wore on. Did the others feel that way too? Or was it just her? And if it was just her, was it because Seth had grabbed her? Had touching his flesh drained her? Could being reminded on that basic level of the wrongness, the unnaturalness of her current state, somehow suck away her cast powers?
“What happened back there?” Maryanne said. “And what the hell was that noise? Was that you?”
“It came out of me, all right, but I have no idea what it was.” Brooke glanced over at Alex. “Maybe Alex here can shed some light on it.”
Alex sighed. “Look, our hearts can use a break back there, not to mention our nerves. Let’s just concentrate on getting home, okay? We can talk about this stuff when we’re safely inside again.”
She did know about that noise. It was there in her voice.
“Dammit, Alex,” Brooke said bitterly. “Any other critical information we should know?”
“Give it a rest,” Maryanne snapped. “Alex will tell us what she knows about that... sound. And you’ll tell us what you did to Seth Walker.”
Oh, great. They’d never get to bed tonight.
Chapter 11
Wind Blowing Ways
Maryanne
Maryanne had blown off school.
Well, not blown off, exactly. More like faked her way out of it. Still wearing her housecoat, she’d trudged downstairs and announced to Mrs. Betts in the most nasal voice she could manage that she was too sick—cough-cough, sniffle—to go to school. Amazingly, Mrs. Betts hadn’t turned her infamous gimlet eye on her. Instead, she’d simply stood there in the parlor doorway and shrugged at Maryanne’s assertion. Then she’d dialed the Streep Academy and left a tired voice-mail message that Maryanne Hemlock wouldn’t be at school today. And without another word, Betts had walked into the dining room, grabbed some unbuttered toast and a mug of black coffee and disappeared through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen.
Maryanne watched her go. For a woman who was maybe in her early forties, Betts walked as though she were pushing seventy this morning. As if the weight of the world were on her slumped shoulders.
She’d never skipped school before, but Maryanne suspected it wasn’t usually this easy pulling one over on Mrs. Betts. What was up with that? Maybe the old girl was just tired this morning. Too tired to argue with students over fake illnesses.
Well, Maryanne could identify with the tired part. She was frickin’ exhausted. Clutching her prop tissues, she’d headed back up the stairs.
She’d met Brooke and Alex on their way down, carrying their backpacks.
Maryanne laid a hand on Alex’s sleeve. “See you both tonight.”
Alex looked down at the hand with a knotted look on her face, as if Maryanne’s touch were burning into her flesh. Maryanne pulled her hand away.
“Yeah,” Brooke answered, smiling. “Right after dinner. Back in the room.”
“And we’ll talk then, right?” Maryanne said, lowering her voice even more.
“With pleasure!” Brooke bounced down the stairs. She tossed her backpack down by the door before hanging a left into the breakfast hall.
By contrast, Alex only nodded at Maryanne before continuing down the stairs. But when she hit the bottom, instead of turning, she walked right out the front door.
Maryanne climbed the remaining stairs and returned to the bedroom.
She flopped back down on her bed. The sun shone through the open curtains, laying an oblong of light across the hardwood floor and warming the room itself. The small bed had never felt so welcoming, the blankets never so soft and cozy as today when she tucked down deep inside them. Man, she needed sleep.
She hadn’t gotten a wink of it last night.
Within minutes of blasting back into their bodies the previous night—Lord, she’d never felt anything like it!—they’d blown out the candles and crept back downstairs. No point hanging around up there any longer than necessary. The longer they were AWOL from their bedroom, the higher the chance their absence would be detected. They’d snuck down the stairs and quietly back through the door that led to the second floor. Without saying a word, they’d made their way back to the small room they shared. Alex and Brooke had buried their snuffed-out candles in their dressers, while Maryanne hid hers behind some books on her headboard shelf.
She hadn’t expected any of them to sleep much that night, if at all, after what had just happened.
But though Maryanne and Brooke had sat up on their beds, practically vibrating with energy and ready to talk, Alex was in no mood for conversation. Nor was she bursting with the same energy and excitement.
If anything, she seemed quieter than ever on their return to the bedroom. Both Maryanne and Brooke had tried to engage her, to no avail. She’d seemed lost somehow, as she lay down on her bed, head on the pillow and eyes fixed on the ceiling. Staring into nothing.
“So tell us,” Maryanne had urged. “What did Connie write in her diary about that scream?”
“Not now, Maryanne, I’ve got a brutal headache.”
Brooke’s response? “Fine. But if you’re not talking, I’m not t
alking.”
Maryanne, always the peacemaker, had jumped in before the two could start a war. And she’d also managed to extract a promise from the both of them that they’d meet tonight to talk about it.
Eventually, Brooke had lain down on her bed, and her soft snores were soon filling the darkened room. Not long thereafter, Alex had also drifted off, or so Maryanne had thought, judging from her breathing.
But Maryanne had lain there in bed and stared out the window into the blackness. Not even having to try to fight sleep. Just staring easily into the night that had so lovingly embraced her. She’d felt a freedom out there. An incomparable, wonderful lightness.
She hadn’t wanted that feeling to end, so she’d lain awake in the dark.
But now her lack of sleep was catching up to her. Mentally, she wasn’t ready to surrender to it, but her body had its own agenda. She fell asleep with one thought in her head. Oh God, don’t let it end.
She slept for three dreamless hours, until the sunlight made its way along the hardwood floor to fall onto her bed. When she eventually woke, it was to find the sun beating on her tightly closed eyelids. Blinking, Maryanne turned to look at the clock beside her bed. The digital readout indicated it was 11:11.
Make a wish?
She always had on 11:11. Ever since she could remember.
But this time she didn’t have to take a minute to stew over what wish to throw to the wind.
“I wish to cast out again,” she said to the empty room. “Very, very soon.”
Her stomach grumbled as she threw off the blankets. But breakfast/brunch/lunch would have to wait. Five minutes later, Maryanne was in the first unhurried shower she’d had since coming to Harvell House. She let the water smooth down on her back. Washed and conditioned her hair slowly. No one would be pounding on the door for her to hurry; no one would be standing in the hallway tapping an impatient foot and shooting her daggers for taking so long when she came back out.
She’d enjoy the small amount of peace while she could.
