by L. J. Smith
He sobered at once. “That’s terrible.”
“Yes.” Thea fished in her backpack for the small herb pillow she’d put there this morning. Then she hesitated. “Eric…is there somewhere we could go to talk alone? Just for a few minutes? I want to give you something.”
He blinked, then waggled his eyebrows. “Nothing I’d like better. And I know just the place. Come on.”
He led her across campus to a large building that stood apart from the rest of the complex. It had a shabby look and the paint on the double doors was blistered. A banner announced in orange and black letters: DON’T MISS THE ULTIMATE HALLOWEEN PARTY.
“What is this?”
Eric, who was opening the door, put a finger to his lips. He glanced inside, then beckoned to her.
“It’s the old gym. They’re supposed to be renovating it as a student center, but there isn’t enough money.” He snorted. “Probably because they’re spending too much on renovating downtown. Now—what was it you wanted to give me?”
“It…” Thea stopped dead as she took in her surroundings. All thoughts of the herb pillow vanished. “Eric…” She stared around her, feeling a slow wave of sickness roil through her stomach. “Is this…for the Halloween party?”
“Yeah. They do a couple fund-raisers a semester here. This is kind of a weird one—but they did it last year and it brought in a lot.”
Not weird, Thea thought numbly. Weird doesn’t begin to describe it.
Half the room was empty, just scuffed hardwood floor, a broken basketball backboard, and exposed pipes in the ceiling. But the other half looked like a cross between a medieval dungeon and a casino. She walked slowly toward it, her footsteps echoing.
Wooden booths of various sizes were decorated with orange and black crepe paper and fake spiderwebs. Thea read one banner after another.
“Fortune telling…Drench a Wench…Bobbing for Shrunken Heads?”
“It’s bobbing for apples, really,” Eric said, seeming embarrassed. “And the gambling isn’t real. You do it all with goblin money and exchange it for prizes.”
Thea couldn’t stop looking at the booths. Wheel of Torture: a money wheel with a dummy dressed like a witch spread eagled in the middle. Bloody Blackjack. Devil’s Darts…a dart game with a cork witch as a target.
And there were witch figures everywhere. Cloth witches on nooses hanging from the overhead pipes. Cardboard witches leering from the tops of booths. Paper witches dancing on the wall. They were fat, skinny, white-haired, gray-haired, cross-eyed, squint-eyed, warty, funny, scary…and ugly. That was the one thing they all had in common.
That’s what they think of us. Humans. All humans…
“Thea? Are you okay?”
Thea whirled. “No, I am not okay.” She gestured around the room. “Will you look at this stuff? Do you really think it’s funny? Something to party about?” Hardly aware of what she was doing, she spun him around to face The Iron Maiden—a wooden replica with rubber spikes.
“What are people going to do? Pay to step into that? Don’t they realize that it used to be real? That real people were put in it, and that when the door closed, those spikes went into them, into their arms and their stomachs and their eyes…” She couldn’t go on.
Eric looked as stricken as Dani had earlier. He’d never seen her like this. “Thea—look, I’m sorry…I never thought…”
“Or that.” Thea gestured toward the Wheel of Torture, the words tumbling out. “Do you know how they really put a witch on the wheel? They broke every bone in her body so they could just thread her arms and legs through the spokes like spaghetti. Then they put the wheel on a pole and left her up there to die….”
Eric’s face contracted with horror. “God, Thea…”
“And these pictures—the witches who got tortured didn’t have green skin and evil eyes. They weren’t monsters, and they didn’t have anything to do with devils. They were people.”
Eric reached out for her, but she spun away, staring at a particularly ugly hag on the wall. “Do you think this place is all right for a party? That this is good fun? That witches look like that?” She flung out an arm, close to being hysterical. “Well, do you?”
In her mind’s eye she could see the world: Dani and Blaise and all other witches on the left; Eric and the students here and all other humans on the right, both races hating and despising each other—and herself somewhere in the middle.
Eric caught her shoulders. “No, I don’t think it’s all right. Thea, will you just listen to me for a second?”
He was almost shaking her—but she could see that there were tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
“I feel awful,” he said. “I never thought about taking this stuff seriously—and that’s my own stupid fault, and I know it’s not an excuse. But now that you say it, I do see how terrible it is, and I’m sorry. And I never should have brought you here, of all people…”
Thea, who had been starting to relax, stiffened again. “Why me ‘of all people’?” she demanded.
He hesitated a moment, then met her eyes and spoke quietly. “Because of your grandma’s store. I mean, I know it’s just herbs and positive thinking—but I also know that in the old days, there would have been somebody out there pointing a finger and calling her a witch.”
Thea relaxed again. It was okay for people to think Gran was a witch—if by “witch” they meant someone who talked to plants and mixed up homemade hair tonic. And she couldn’t disbelieve Eric, not under the intensity of those steady green eyes.
But she saw an opportunity and seized it.
“Yeah, and they’d probably have burned me for giving you this present,” she said, opening her hand. “And you’d probably have been scared or superstitious if I asked you to keep it with you all the time: you’d think I was putting some kind of a spell on you—”
“I wouldn’t think anything,” he said firmly, taking the little green pillow from her. It smelled like fresh New Hampshire pine needles, which was what was in it—mainly. She’d also added a few protective herbs and an Ishtar crystal, a golden beryl in a star cut with thirty-three facets, carved with the name of the Babylonian mother goddess. The charm was the best she could do to help him fend off Blaise’s spells.
“I would just kiss it and put it in my pocket and never let it out of my sight,” Eric went on. And he did, stopping after the kiss to say, “Mm, smells good.”
Thea couldn’t help smiling at him. She chanced saying, “Actually, it’s just to remind you of me.”
“It will never leave my pocket,” he said solemnly.
Well, that worked out nicely.
“Look, there’s probably something we can do about this place,” Eric said, glancing around again. “The school board doesn’t want any bad publicity. Why don’t I run and borrow a camera from the journalism class, and we can take some pictures so people will see what we mean when we complain?”
Thea glanced at her watch. “Why not? I think I’ve already missed French.”
He grinned. “Back in a minute.”
When he was gone, Thea wandered slowly among the silent booths, lost in her own thoughts.
For a few minutes there, when I was ranting, I almost told him the truth. And then later I thought maybe he’d figured it all out for himself.
And would that be so terrible? He’s already under sentence of death just because I love him; it doesn’t matter if he knows or not.
But if he did know…what would he say? Witches may be okay in the abstract—but does he really want one for a girlfriend?
The only way to find out was to tell him.
She leaned against a ladder and gazed sightlessly at an oilcloth lying beneath a hanging noose. Of course, it was probably all academic anyway. What kind of future could they possibly have…?
Suddenly Thea realized what she was looking at.
Underneath that oilcloth was a shoe—and the shoe was connected to something. Subconsciously, she’d been assuming it was another
witch dummy…but now she focused. And she felt the hairs on her arms lift and tingle.
Why would they dress a witch in black Nike high-tops?
CHAPTER 9
The shoe was so incongruous that for an instant Thea thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her. It was the atmosphere here—the dim, echoing room with all its macabre booths. If she looked away and then looked back…
It was still there.
I should wait, I should call somebody. This could be something terrible. There are human authorities; I should at least wait for Eric….
Thea found herself moving in dreamlike, slow speed.
She took the edge of the oilcloth between finger and thumb and lifted it just an inch or so.
There was a leg attached to the shoe.
A blue-jeaned leg. Not part of a dummy. And another shoe.
Horror and adrenaline washed over Thea. And, strangely, that helped. Her first thought was, It’s a person and she may be hurt. She went into emergency mode, slamming a wall between herself and her fear.
Hang on, are you okay, just let me see…
She pulled the rest of the oilcloth off, tugging to get it free. She saw legs, a body, curled fingers clutching the sleeve of a black-dressed witch dummy…
Then she saw the head and she reeled backward, both hands pressed over her mouth. She’d only gotten a glimpse, but the picture was burned into her mind.
Blue-gray face, hideously swollen. Grotesquely bulging eyes. Tongue like a sausage protruding from between black lips…
Thea’s knees gave out.
She’d seen the dead before. She’d been to leave-taking ceremonies where the mortal remains of witches were returned to the earth. But those had been natural deaths, and the corpses had been peaceful. While this…
I think it was a boy. It had short hair and a flat chest. But there was no way to recognize the face. It was so distorted—didn’t even look human….
He died violently. May his spirit be released; not held here by the need for revenge. Oh, Sekhmet, Lion-headed goddess of Egypt; Mistress of Death, Opener of Ways, Sekhmet Who Reduceth to Silence…
Her disjointed thoughts were interrupted as sunlight farmed into the room. At the door, Eric shouted, “I’m back!”
Thea stood up. Her legs wanted to cave again. She opened her mouth, but what came out was a whisper. “Eric—”
He was hurrying toward her. “What’s wrong? Thea?”
“It’s somebody dead.”
She saw his eyes widen in absolute disbelief—and then he looked past her. He took a step toward the thing on the floor, stopped, crouched, and stared for a second. Then he whirled back and grabbed her as if he could somehow protect her from what he’d seen.
“Don’t look at it; don’t look over there,” he gasped. “Oh, God, it’s bad.”
“I know. I saw it.”
“It’s bad; it’s so bad….”
They were both holding on to each other. It was the only safety in this nightmare.
“He’s dead. That guy is dead,” Eric said. It was obvious, but Thea understood the need to babble. “There’s nothing we can do for him. Oh, God, Thea, I think it’s Kevin Imamura.”
“Kevin?” Black dots danced in front of Thea’s eyes. “No, it can’t be—”
“I’ve seen him wearing that shirt before. And the hair…And he’s on the committee to decorate this place. He must have been setting up that dummy.”
Thea’s mind showed her a terrible picture. A crusted dark line on that bloated face—like the wound made by a slashing razor. And the soft black hair…Yes, it could have been Kevin. And that meant—
Blaise.
“Come on,” Eric was saying, his voice dazed and quenched. “We’ve got to tell the office.”
Numbly, Thea let him guide her. Her mind was in another place.
Blaise. Did Blaise know…could Blaise have…
She didn’t want to form the thought even to herself, but she couldn’t help it.
…finally gone all the way? Not just spilled blood, but taken a life?
It was forbidden to witches. But the Harmans were part lamia, and vampires sometimes killed for power. Could Blaise have gone that far into the darkness?
After they got to the office, things happened fast, but Thea couldn’t really take it in. Activity whirled around her: The secretaries. The principal. The police. She was grateful for Eric, who kept telling the story over and over so she didn’t have to.
I need to find Blaise.
They were back at the gym. The police were cordoning off the whole building with yellow tape. A throng of students and teachers was watching. Thea’s eyes skimmed the crowd, but she didn’t see Blaise anywhere.
Voices rose around her.
“I heard it was Kevin Imamura.”
“Somebody said that guy from the dance came back and got him.”
“Eric! Eric, did you really see him?”
Then one voice outshouted the others. “Hey, Mrs. Cheng, what about the Halloween party? Is the gym gonna be open by then?”
The principal, who had been huddled with a couple of police officers, turned around. Black hair riffling over her forehead in the breeze, she addressed the entire crowd.
“I don’t know what is going to happen with the gym. There’s been a tragedy, and now there’s going to be an investigation. We’ll just have to wait and see what comes of that. Now, I want everybody to go back to their classes. Teachers, please take your students back to your classrooms.”
“I can’t go back,” Thea whispered. She and Eric were standing at a little distance from the thinning crowd. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about them.
“I’ll take you home,” Eric said immediately.
“No—I need to find Blaise. I have some things to ask her.” She tried to make her stupefied brain work. “Eric, I should have told you this before. You’ve got to be careful.”
“Of what?”
“Of Blaise.”
He looked incredulous. “Thea…” He glanced at the old gym. “You can’t think she had anything to do with—what happened to Kevin.”
“I don’t know. She could have had somebody do it—or made him do it himself.” Thea kept her voice low. She looked straight into Eric’s face, willing him to believe her. “Eric, I know you don’t understand, but it’s like I told you before. She’s like Aphrodite. Or Medea. She laughs when she destroys things. Especially when she gets mad…and she’s mad at you.”
“Why?”
“Because you picked me instead of her—because I like you—lots of things. That doesn’t matter. The point is that she may come after you. She may try to…seduce you. And”—Thea glanced at the bobbing yellow tape surrounding the old gym—“she may try to hurt you. So will you just be careful if you see her? Will you promise me that?”
Eric looked windblown and bewildered, but he nodded slowly. “I promise.”
“Then I’ll see you later. We still have things to talk about—but I have to find Blaise first.”
She walked toward the crowd, leaving Eric standing there in the wind. She knew he was watching her.
A waving hand caught Thea’s eye. It was Dani, her face full of sympathy and concern.
“Thea, are you all right?”
“Sort of.” Thea gave a laugh she didn’t recognize. “Have you seen Blaise around?”
Dani’s soft little hand crept into hers. “She and Vivienne went home—I mean, to your place. I’ll go back with you, if you want. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Thea squeezed her hand. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” She was grateful—and relieved that Dani didn’t hate her. “Dani—about the way I acted earlier…”
“Forget it. I don’t know what I said, but I didn’t mean to make you mad.” She added gently, “Thea, are you really okay? Really? Because I don’t want to upset you more….”
“Why?” And then: “What, Dani?”
“Your grandma’s sick. That’s why Blaise and Vivienne went ho
me—Vivienne’s mom paged her. She’s a healer—Vivienne’s mom, I mean—and I think she’s taking your grandma to her house.”
Thea was disturbed. Gran hadn’t moved to Las Vegas for the same reason other Night People did. Lamia and made vampires came because so many of the humans here were transients—the kind that wouldn’t be missed if they disappeared. Other witches came because of the power vortexes in the desert. But Gran had come because of the warm, dry climate. Her lungs had been bad since she was a kid.
Please don’t let it be serious, Thea kept thinking as Dani drove her home. She felt as if her skin had been rubbed too thin all over her body.
When they got to the shop, Gran was already gone. Tobias and Vivienne were downstairs.
“Is she okay?” Thea asked. “Is it something bad?”
“Not too bad,” Tobias said. “She just kept getting dizzy today, and then she had a coughing fit and couldn’t stop. She finally decided maybe she’d better get somebody to sing it out. So she called Ms. Morrigan.”
Oh, great—chanting. Just what Gran loved. But she must have been really sick to ask to have it done.
“Can I call her?”
“I wouldn’t,” Vivienne put in. Her green eyes were kind, her voice reassuring. “I’m sure Mom’s working on her by now, and when she does a singing, it takes all night. You shouldn’t disturb them. But don’t worry, Thea—my mom’s really good.”
“Yes—it’s not that I’m worried about.” Thea looked around distractedly, finally coming back to Vivienne’s face. “Did you hear about what happened at school?”
“No.” Vivienne looked mildly curious. “What happened?”
Instead of answering, Thea said, “Where’s Blaise?”
“Upstairs packing. She’s going to stay overnight at my house. You can come, too—Thea?”
Thea was already racing up the stairs.
She burst into the bedroom she and Blaise shared. Blaise had a small suitcase open on her bed.
Thea didn’t waste words. “Did you kill Kevin Imamura?”
