The Yanti

by Christopher Pike

  Ali still had a gruesome task to perform before she could return home. Earlier, fleeing the mansion with the others, she had grabbed Karl’s body; and then, with a fast fairy-leap through the air, had deposited it a mile up the side of Pete’s Peak. There was no way she was going to allow his measly murder to get pinned on her.

  She had to dispose of his body in a more permanent fashion.

  His death—at her own hands—was not going to cause her to lose a minute of sleep. After all, the beast had murdered Steve and her mother, and enjoyed it. He had been a mere pawn of Sheri Smith, true, but a willing one.

  Outside, away from the mansion, Ali checked to make sure she was alone, then invoked her magnetic field and floated once more into the air. Yet she did not rise high, barely above the treetops. Karl’s body lay well-hidden beneath a row of bushes, but she remembered the spot well. She reached it less than a minute after leaving the Smith residence.

  To her disgust, his blue eyes had popped open. She had to bend and force them shut. His red lips had darkened; they strained into an unnatural grin. Rigor mortis must be setting in. His flesh was practically brittle—and the same temperature as the ground. For a moment she considered digging a six-foot hole and burying him. Her fingers were as strong as steel forks—she had no need of a shovel. But fresh holes left visible signs, and it was possible—as more of the details surrounding the last few days emerged—that the police might search the forest, even this far up the mountain.

  In the end, she decided, it would be safer if Karl just disappeared.

  The truth be known, she had considered the idea of dumping him in the ocean even before she’d left her house. That was why she had a roll of duct tape in her coat pocket. Dropping to her knees, she gathered a host of rocks and began to stuff them inside his shirt and pant legs. Soon he was twice his normal weight, and it was then she began to wrap him in the strong adhesive, around and around, as a mother spider might spin a web about a tasty morsel. Once more, she felt not a twinge of remorse as she worked, and when he was all but a gray mummy lying on the green grass, she did not pause to say any final words in his memory. Just picked him up, threw him over her shoulder, and soared into the sky. Had he been alive, she would not have been able to carry him. His living field would have interfered with her fairy magic. But as it was, carrying him was no different for her than clasping a bag of meat.

  Ali flew a long way, west over the dark sea, over a hundred miles out, before she dropped him. She was a quarter of a mile high in the sky at that point, and the eastern rim of the world had begun to glow with the faint light of a new dawn. It had been a long night. As she turned in the air and headed home, accelerating at mind-numbing speed, she heard a far-off splash as he hit his final watery grave. It was only then that Ali Warner remembered that she had once cared for Karl Tanner. But if she shed a tear for his early departure, then it was lost on the wind that scarcely managed to penetrate her magical green field.

  CHAPTER

  2

  Nira Smith was asleep on the couch when Ali arrived home. Cindy Franken was awake in front of the TV, but slumped in her seat. Her friend quickly stood and turned off the set as Ali entered. She acted embarrassed.

  “I was just watching it to stay awake,” Cindy said.

  “No problem.” Ali gestured to Nira, who was tucked under a shawl Ali’s mother had knitted the winter before she had died—or supposedly died. In reality, the human part of Ali’s mother had passed away less than twenty days ago, thanks to Karl Tanner and Sheri Smith. But the fairy aspect of her mother, Amma, was still alive in the elemental kingdom.

  “Did she eat anything before she passed out?” Ali asked.

  “I made her a grilled cheese sandwich. She gobbled it down like there was no tomorrow.” Cindy added, “On top of that, she drank two glasses of water.”

  “She didn’t want milk?”

  Cindy frowned. “Your milk was sour. I had to toss some of the stuff in your fridge in the garbage. But don’t worry, the bread and cheese were fine.”

  “Did you eat?”

  Cindy nodded. “Same as her.”

  Ali took a step closer to the girl, stared down at her. Like herself, Nira had bright red hair, but her eyes were a dull violet—instead of a bright green—and even at the best of times they appeared unfocused. Ali knew that was because of the thumbprint between the girl’s eyes. The burn-like scar indicated that Nira had been marked by the Shaktra. The girl was not truly autistic. She could be a genius for all they knew. But she was under the control of a monster—her own mother, Ms. Sheri Smith.

  Before Ali had left the elemental dimension, the Shaktra had marked her fairy mother as well. Ali still did not understand the precise nature of the possession, but somehow the evil being had stolen her mom’s mind and left her an empty shell that could not even recognize her own daughter. It was as if Nira’s and her mother’s souls had been cast into a realm of shadows and nightmares.

  Nira seemed to rest peacefully, however, and for that Ali was grateful. From her travels in the elemental world, Ali knew she and Nira were related. It was possible they were sisters.

  At the same time, she knew Nira was more powerful than she. In a chamber buried in the heart of a mighty kloudar—the elemental world’s floating mountains—Ali had seen the sleeping counterpart of Nira, and had recognized the potent violet light that emanated from her majestic being. Seeing her then had been like staring at a star that was about to go supernova. Even now, Ali could sense—despite Nira’s meek appearance—the immense energy inside the child.

  Unfortunately, Ali sensed the greatness through a black barrier. That was because of the mark. Ali had to ask herself what evil lay behind it that it was capable of eclipsing a light as bright as Nira.

  Ali gestured to Cindy. “Let’s go in the den, we need to talk.”

  Cindy hesitated. She had taken a quick shower after being released by the Toule police—before Ali had flown over the mountain—and she had put on a fresh pair of Ali’s blue jeans, and a warm green sweater. Yet her face still betrayed the pain of her recent trauma. She was not cut or bruised—Ali had healed the superficial wounds. But her blue eyes showed damage. She had been standing beside Steve when he had been stabbed in the heart by Karl. That was not the type of scar Ali could remove with a wave of her hand.

  Gone was the carefree chatterbox Ali had grown up with. Although not in shock, Cindy was emotionally far from healthy. She showed signs of battle fatigue. The life had gone out of her once curly blond hair. It hung limp and weary, as did her whole head. Ali knew she must be exhausted.

  Ali caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror, the one her earthly mother had used to favor. The oval glass was not large, and the dark wooden frame was old enough to be an antique. Ali did not know where her parents had bought it, but seeing her own face startled her. Like Cindy, she had taken a shower before leaving the house. She had even taken the time to wash her long red hair, and rinse away the dust from beneath her green eyes.

  Yet the change that confronted her now was not in the details of her expression, nor even in the way she held her thin but wiry frame. It was more in the invisible field that surrounded her, and in the black wells of her pupils. While in the elemental kingdom—as a final desperate measure to save herself and her friends from certain doom—she had swallowed an overdose of fairy stardust. Since that wild experiment, she had felt as if she were in reality two beings: one fairy, the other human. But deep inside, she felt the former much stronger than the latter, and that had never been the case before.

  She no longer saw a teenage girl in the mirror. It was weird, it was her own face—the same face that stared back at her throughout her life—and yet subtle details had altered.

  It was only then that she understood that her actual mind had changed since she had ingested the stardust. It was more quiet inside, and yet, ironically, the silence was so soft it seemed to hum. It was a silence unmoved by mundane thoughts. She suspected it existed beyond he
r conscious mind, and that it was responsible for the sudden increase in her fairy abilities.

  Yet the inner calmness possessed a detached depth that made her feel as if she were a living iceberg. She could not help but recall how casually she had snapped Karl Tanner’s neck. A week ago, she could never have done such a thing—no matter what he had done to her, or to those she loved.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cindy staring at her with awe. It wasn’t something she took pleasure in. But how to avoid it? Two hours ago, her friend had seen her float out of the backyard and into the sky, in the midst of a radiant green field. Cindy did not act afraid of her. On the other hand, she had not jumped up and hugged her when she had returned. Cindy had not even stopped to ask if she was all right. Her friend had simply assumed the great and powerful Geea couldn’t be harmed.

  A lot of that was probably because Ali had cracked Karl’s neck in front of Cindy.

  That, perhaps, had been a mistake.

  “I don’t want to leave Nira alone,” Cindy replied, in response to Ali’s suggestion that they go in the other room.

  Ali unzipped her coat, pulled out what was left of the duct tape, set it on a table. From the instant Cindy had met Nira in Toule, she had been protective of the child. Ali did not know why, but wondered if Sheri Smith had noticed the attachment. Could Cindy be the main reason the witch had left Nira in their keeping? If that were the case, it hinted at the possibility that Sheri Smith was concerned about her daughter.

  “It’s dangerous to talk in front of her,” Ali explained. “That mark on her forehead—it indicates her mind’s been tampered with by the Shaktra. I don’t know the extent of the creature’s control over her, but it’s possible she can see and hear us through her.”

  Cindy was interested. “Are you saying Nira isn’t really autistic?”

  “Yes. If she didn’t have the mark, she’d probably act normal.”

  Cindy’s face shone with relief, but a frown quickly followed. “By the Shaktra, you mean Sheri Smith? Right?”

  “There’s more to it than that. I’ll explain to you in the den. No, wait, let’s go in my bedroom. You can lay on my bed. You’ll be more comfortable that way.”

  Cindy gave her a look. “Doing what?”

  “It’s better if I just show you.”

  “Does it have something to do with fairy magic?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  Cindy was uneasy. “When the cops dropped me off, every light in my house was on. That means my family’s all there. I checked ten minutes ago. The sun’s coming up and the lights are still on. I’ve been missing for over three days. They have to be freaking out. I need to get home right now.”

  Ali raised her hand. “I understand. Your parents must be going through hell. But there’s stuff we have to go over, and it can’t wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have to prepare for tomorrow, or rather, for today. The cops are going to be all over us. We have to come up with a plan to deal with them, and to do that, I need information. Trust me, you can leave the second we’re done.”

  “Wait. While you were gone, did you go to Sheri Smith’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you find?”

  “I’ll tell you everything after I get caught up on what you guys did.”

  “But you found Steve’s body, right?”

  Ali hesitated. “Not exactly.”

  Cindy grimaced. “Where did it go?”

  “I don’t know. But what I want to do now—it might help me figure out the answer to that question.”

  “It couldn’t have just disappeared.”

  “Sheri Smith must have come back for it, and then hid it.”

  “But why?” Cindy asked, pained.

  “I can’t answer you without first catching up on what you and Steve did the last few days.” Ali reached out and clasped her friend’s hand. “Let’s go in the bedroom.”

  The news about Steve’s disappearance obviously shocked Cindy, but she looked too tired to register it fully. She swayed where she stood. “Make it quick, Ali. If I don’t sleep soon, I’m going to fall over.”

  Minutes later Cindy lay stretched out on her bed, with Ali sitting cross-legged on her right side—sitting so near, her folded knees pressed against her friend’s side. Cindy assumed she was going to try to heal her again, and assured Ali that she was fine. But Ali explained they were going to do something different.

  “I need you to tell me everything you and Steve did since I saw you last,” Ali said. “I need to see the last few days through your eyes. That way I will be able to see them through my eyes.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m going to put a hand on your forehead, another hand over your heart. You’re just going to relax and talk about what you saw and heard in Toule. As you do so, I’ll be able to see inside your mind, like I was there with you in Toule.”

  Cindy was tense. “Are you sure this isn’t too fairy-like for me? I mean, I would rather just tell you what happened.”

  “Trust me, it won’t hurt. You might even enjoy it.”

  “What if I have some thought, you know, that’s private?”

  “Keeping secrets from me?”

  “Get off it, Ali. We all have our secrets.”

  “I’m after information, not gossip. I promise not to pry.”

  “You swear?”

  “I swear.” Reaching out with her hands, Ali motioned for her to close her eyes. “By entering your mind, I might see stuff that you guys missed.”

  Yet Cindy continued to resist. “Have you done this before?”

  Ali spoke carefully. “I did it often as fairy queen, and I remember that life more clearly than when you last saw me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll just ask questions and you’ll answer them. As you tell me who you met and what you talked about, I’ll see each person from my perspective. If you don’t remember something, I’ll remember it for you. And if someone lied to you, I’ll know it.”

  “We know Rose was lying to us all along. That she was really Sheri Smith in disguise.”

  “Fine. But . . .”

  Cindy interrupted. “Just before Karl killed him, Steve told me why. He said that she was burned all over. That she was hideous to look at. Because she planned to kill us, she even told us all kinds of stuff about herself.”

  Ali nodded at the news, although she knew Cindy was not alive because Ali had stopped Karl’s knife. Sheri Smith had wanted Cindy spared. Once again, it was possible it was because Cindy was fond of Nira. Ali needed to know for sure. The truth would give her an insight into the witch’s nature.

  Was Smith rotten to the core? Or did she have a soft spot?

  Ali needed Cindy to shut up and close her eyes!

  “Cindy,” Ali said. “You’re tired and I’m tired. Can we just get on with this?”

  Her friend finally gave in. “What do I have to do?”

  “Close your eyes, pretend you’re falling asleep.” Once more Ali settled her hands over Cindy’s head and heart. At that moment the Yanti—a talisman of great power and beauty that had originally belonged to her when she had been queen of the fairies—began to warm beneath her shirt, near her heart. The warmth spread throughout her entire body, filling her limbs with a delicious sensation.

  “I’ll pass out,” Cindy warned, her voice already growing drowsy.

  “You can talk in your sleep.” As she spoke, Ali commanded her magnetic field to expand to such an extent that she could feel the blood pounding through Cindy’s physical heart. Then she went a step further, and entered a thumb-shaped space inside Cindy’s heart. A place filled with bright light where she could feel the glow of Cindy’s inner life—perhaps even the radiance of her friend’s soul.

  Ali heard the chatter of Cindy’s thoughts, but they decreased as the warm flow of magic penetrated the neurons, which fired like red and blue and white sparks between the hemispheres of Cindy’s physical brain. Ali spoke in a softer voice.


  “Relax, and go back in time until that day you and Steve returned to Toule. That day right after I left to go up the mountain. Tell me what you guys did. Tell me what you saw. Tell me who you met. Don’t worry if you can’t remember something. Your body will remember, and it will tell us what we need to know.”

  Cindy Franken began to speak.

  She began where Ali had instructed, that sunny summer day Steve and Cindy had gone off to explore the secrets of Toule without her. They had started at the town library, where they tried to figure out what had caused the power plant explosion thirteen years ago—for which the small northwestern town was famous. Naturally, given only a few hours, they failed to solve the mystery, but they did come across a curious wrinkle in the city’s sad history.

  It concerned a teenage girl named Lucy Pillar.

  Ali listened closely as Cindy whispered a replay of the old librarian’s account of the mysterious girl. Sitting on her bed, Ali could see Ms. Treacher and the many rows of library books neatly stacked behind the feisty woman. More, Ali felt as if she caught a glimpse of Lucy through the librarian’s eyes.

  Cindy had asked Ms. Treacher if she knew Lucy.

  “Lucy was a lovely girl, before the accident.”

  The way the woman said accident, Cindy and Steve knew she was not talking about the power plant explosion. Steve pressed her for more details, and she responded:

  “A year before the power plant blew, Lucy was in a car accident. Her boyfriend at the time—Hector Wells, he was on the basketball team—was driving. He was drunk, and he crashed into a tree, and was thrown from the car. But Lucy had her seat belt on. She got trapped inside, and the car exploded, and she was burned over most of her body. I’ll never forget those days. I was a teacher at the high school then. I saw Lucy every day. She was a cheerleader, happy as a lark. Smart as a whip, too. She could write, sing, play the flute. Then, just like that, it was all over for her. Or it should have been. God forgive me, but I used to pray that she had died that night.”