I was just about to duck back inside, when my gaze landed on the end of the walkway at the top of the stairs. The dim lights above the motel room doors couldn’t reach that far. Long shadows shifted. Or so I thought. I couldn’t be sure. Sleep deprivation pinched the areas of my brain not clouded by fog. Heavy bricks weighted my limbs with exhaustion. Who knew what was real and what wasn’t?
But I couldn’t be too careful. Not with Dad and Darby just feet away. My breaths hitching, I reached for an ash tree key at my back. How had I used the keys to capture Ica? Sarah had thrown them on top of me inside the Trinity grave. One of them had wrapped around my hand, then something black shot up out of it. But how?
I glanced down at the spreading stain on my sleeve. I’d been bleeding in the grave. The precious blood the Sorceressi didn’t want me to waste flowed freely then and now. Had it been my blood mixed with the ash key that had turned Ica into a tree? My Trammeler Sorceress blood?
Keeping an eye on the broken bird and any shifting shadows, I touched the blood that dribbled over my lips. Just as I brought my finger to the curves and bumps of the key, the bird winged into the night.
Either that bird was no ordinary bird or it had a sudden, powerful urge to poop on a windshield.
“Leigh, what’s taking you so long? Close the door. That smell is going to knock me over,” Dad said.
I slowly backed up into the motel room, my gaze aimed at the end of the walkway, then closed, locked, and chained the door. Hunting possible imaginary phantoms in the shadows would have to wait until I knew they were real. And until Dad and Darby were safe and sound and far away from me.
Darby perched next to the bathroom sink with wads of toilet paper stuck up each nostril.
Dad tucked a finger under her chin and uncorked her nose. “Let me see.”
I hurried around them to unroll my own wad, shoved it against my nose, and then went back to the door to peer out the peek hole. The town drooped at the edges through my warped view, a frown dusted in stars and streetlights.
Footsteps thumped from outside. They grew louder, coming closer. The crunch over the painted dragon scales sounded like mashed bones. The walkway hummed under every step and vibrated through the paper thin walls. A toxic stink punched through the door, doubling me over, and rolled my stomach into a sickening spin.
Blood flooded from my nose, and I readjusted the toilet paper to catch it with hands slick with sweat. It came so fast, though, that steady drips fell to the carpet.
The view outside the peek hole darkened. Someone stood just outside the door, haloed by the overhead light. A shadow.
My breathing snagged again. I wasn’t ready for this, whatever this was exactly. I’d just pulled the nails from my own coffin, so to speak, and smashed apart the lid while entombed inside. Even so, I gripped the ash tree key tighter.
The figure walked on, and then disappeared from view. My shoulders drooped while my fingers dug holes in my shirt. It seemed like that was the only thing that made me breathe easier. Footsteps faded away, as did the blood trickling from my nose.
“Darby?” I called.
“What?”
“How’s your nose?”
“I think it’s finally stopped bleeding,” Dad said. “It was a gusher.”
“Mine, too,” I whispered, because my draining hope took my voice with it.
Everyone dead should be buried, either in a grave or under Tram’s roots, except Sarah. Not walking around Krapper with a direct link to mine and Darby’s capillaries and making us easy targets with our magical blood.
Yes, maybe the dead person’s visit and the bleeding were coincidences, but I couldn’t blame this all on coincidence and crawl under its protective shell. That would be so much easier and probably way safer, but coincidences no longer existed in my life. Some dead person was out there right now, and they knew exactly what I was. But they’d walked on. The soft thud of footsteps climbed down the set of stairs on the other side of the walkway. How come? Why were they leaving so fast?
I refused to think about it, not right then anyway. I couldn’t handle any more. At the thought of more anything, tears pricked my eyes. I swallowed them back and turned.
“Oh, God,” I yelped.
Darby stood just behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Can you tell me when you’re standing right behind me?” I clutched at my chest to keep my heart from falling out. “Geez.”
She squinted, blind without her glasses now that they dangled from her fingertips. The blood had been cleaned from her face, and she’d changed into her purple unicorn pajamas. “You look different.”
“She looks in trouble.” Dad came out of the bathroom with that same pissed off expression on his face. The frown lines softened when he took in my blood-soaked front. “How’s your nose?”
I shrugged, pretending all was well at the Crumbly Motel. “Still attached.”
“Good,” he said, then nodded toward the double beds. “You’ve got some explaining to do, young lady. Come in and talk to me.”
Darby moved aside, still eyeing me with a quizzical look that probably matched my own. What had she been doing hanging over the balcony? Who was that outside? And what did she mean I looked different?
I glanced behind me at the door. No footsteps hummed over the walkway. And no blood dotted the carpet. Hadn’t I just dripped some all over it, though?
But hopefully the shadowed dead person was gone for good. With another look out the peek hole, I hesitantly stepped away, afraid the door would come crashing down behind me.
“You’re moving like molasses tonight, Leigh.” Dad pointed to the bed. “Sit and explain.”
I took a breath and nodded, forcing my feet forward. The smoky smell of our non-smoking room puffed up from the bedspread as soon as I sat. Dabbing at the drying mess around my nose, I snuck a glance at the door and then back to his accusing eyes.
“It was the pirate report. It took longer than expected. I swear to you I wasn’t out getting high or pregnant or any of the things normal teenagers do. You can ground me for the rest of your life, just please, don’t look at me like that.” Lips trembling, I played my fingers through the holes in the bottom of my shirt.
Dad sank next to me and crossed his arms. “You’re grounded for the rest of your life.”
“Fair enough.” Somehow just his nearness, the comfortable warmth of my dad, flooded my eyes. I buried my face in the hand that wasn’t holding a wad of bloody toilet paper.
He hugged me close, and the events of the entire night seemed almost bearable with him at my side. Almost.
Darby climbed on the bed and put an arm around my other side. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m just tired.” That, and I was so happy to see them again, it hurt. “Were you looking for your Romeo out on the balcony?” Tears coated my voice, but I tried to make it light for her benefit so she wouldn’t sense how worried I was.
She picked at a hole in my shirt with a shrug. “I heard a noise.”
“What kind of noise?” Dad asked.
“A noise. Like...something was trying to get in.”
“Did you see anything?” I asked.
She shook her head. From the way she pushed her lips together, I could tell she wasn’t being completely honest.
“What did you see?” I demanded, my tone much more harsh than I meant it to be. I regretted it the instant she winced.
“Maybe it was just a bird,” she said.
“I’m sure that was it, honey. After all, we’re on the second floor,” Dad said, scrubbing a hand down his face. He sighed and dragged himself to the other bed. “Come on. Let’s get ourselves to sleep or we’re going to be completely useless tomorrow.”
Darby crawled under the covers of our bed. I stood and watched the door, tempted to peer out the peek hole again. Nobody could get inside unless they knocked down the door. I was fairly confident I would hear something like that, though I did think I might sleep like the dead. Or at least how
they were supposed to sleep.
The brief thought of running to touch a tree to tell Tram zipped through my head, but I let it disappear out my ear. I didn’t know where the nearest tree was and I couldn’t just leave Dad and Darby by themselves.
“Hey,” Darby said, patting my side of the bed. Her gaze was locked on the balcony window, but thick, paisley curtains covered it. “I need you, Leigh.”
I nodded and decided to take on my door-watching post from under the covers. After changing into a blood-free long-sleeved skull and crossbones shirt, I slipped into bed. The motel sheets, so stiff it seemed they’d been made out of cardboard, sighed over my sore body. When Dad turned out the light, Darby weaved her fingers through my hair and kept them there until her breaths turned to snores.
Dad kept sighing from his bed, probably wishing his daughters wouldn’t give him so many heart attacks. That made two of us. If Sorceressi and crazy news reporters didn’t exist, I would be so much more responsible.
“I love you, Dad,” I whispered.
Another sigh. “I love you, too. Go to sleep.”
I lay there, staring first at one door and then the other behind the curtain. We didn’t have to stay in this crappy motel anymore since our nightmare yard was fixed. Fixed by who, I had no idea, but it was fixed. We could go home. I wasn’t sure if I should mention that to Dad, though, because that would open another can of questions. It was probably best to let him discover that tidbit for himself.
Soon, my mind gave up on making sense of anything and went numb. Sleep pinned me down at the bottom of a cold grave. Skeletal hands struck through the earth on both sides, reaching, clawing, and grabbing at my arms, my legs, my hair. I wanted to kick and swing at them, but I couldn’t move. Dirt plunged down and sprayed across my nose and mouth. I tried to draw in a breath, but it had whooshed out when I landed in the grave.
I couldn’t breathe. Could. Not. Breathe.
“Mom!” I jolted awake and smashed my nose against something solid.
Panic fueled my heartbeat. Where was I? I took deep gasping breaths, unsure if I was still dreaming. Sweat rolled over my face and dripped into my ears. I lifted my arms to brush it away but my fists knocked against wood just above me.
A coffin. I was in a coffin. Terror swept through my body. A scream welled in my throat, but I couldn’t get enough air behind it. Every quick inhale raised my chest and scraped it against the wood just above my body. I had no room to breathe.
I lifted my quaking hands to the lid of the coffin but couldn’t get enough leverage to push. My breaths became shallow rasps, matching the wild beat of my heart. I was running out of air.
I kicked and thrashed my body around. There had to be a way out. I heaved a desperate plea for help between shaky gasps.
Something clicked a few feet away. Soft light glowed through a small crack in the coffin.
“Leigh?” A hand folded the crack back to make it bigger, and Dad’s sleepy face appeared. “What are you doing under the bed?”
I shook my head hard. No, not under the bed. Inside a coffin, being buried alive again. Dying.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lining his words. “You look terrified. Were you dreaming?”
I curled my fingers into the floor. Dusty, sticky carpet scratched against my knuckles. The bed’s support beams creaked above my nose, probably Darby shifting in her sleep. I must have fallen out of bed. All my kicking and thrashing in my dreams had wormed me underneath it.
But it was so much like being buried alive again. Why had I done that to myself? Was I that messed up?
A rush of alarm licked up my back. It tipped my tongue with the words to tell Dad everything, but I couldn’t. Telling him would freak him out. I saw that truth in the worried crease of his forehead.
After a hard swallow, I willed myself to chill, or at least look that way. “I had a nightmare,” I whispered and slithered toward him. A nightmare that had really happened. “I’m fine.”
Chapter 3
I wound my limbs around Darby’s to keep myself from climbing under the motel bed again and drifted in and out of sleep, if you could even call that sleep. Mostly I gnashed my teeth together while I tried to block the night from my mind but filter through why I had crawled under the bed. When the first rays of sunlight sliced through the paisley curtains, I still didn’t have an answer.
I untangled myself from Darby, got up, and slid the curtains to the side. Spears of golden light stabbed into my eyes, and they watered at the sharp pain. Was this motel on the sun? I quickly pushed the curtains closed again. The lamp that guided me through the night would have to do.
Spots floated in front of my eyes as I roused Darby for school. Other than the blue pockets under her eyes, she seemed fine. Grouchy maybe, but fine. She kept staring at me with her forehead bunched up, probably because I kept watching her to see if she was okay. She didn’t say anything about the night before, but she did seem bothered by something. I wished I knew what.
When we were ready as we would ever be, Dad opened the door to the motel room, and hyper-wattage sunlight streamed through. I cried out at the Day-Glo yellows and oranges poking into my eyeballs.
“Shut the door,” I said, the pain pitching my voice higher. I turned and slapped my hands over my eyelids.
“Leigh?” Dad said. The door clicked shut.
Darby sighed. “What did you forget?”
Sharp glowing daggers speared through my head. What the heck was wrong with me?
“Sunglasses.” My voice came out like a croak. “Does anyone have any sunglasses?”
“Are you all right, Leigh?” Dad asked.
“I have some.” Darby unzipped her backpack and dangled a pair of purple plastic ones over my shoulder. A unicorn was stamped to each lens, outlining the world in a darker shade of fantasy.
“Thanks,” I said and put them on. They magnified the darkness in the room and instantly helped ease the pain hammering through my skull.
Dad lifted an eyebrow, his hand resting on the doorknob. “Leigh?”
“Much better. Just a headache, is all.”
Under his scrutinizing gaze, I realized what he must be thinking. A teenage girl with a headache after a late night equaled a day touring the toilets in Hangover City.
“I’m fine. Really.” I breezed past him and threw myself out into the harsh morning. “Ready?” I bounded ahead on the walkway, trying to convince Dad I wasn’t Krapper’s next top party girl.
“Maybe she’s part vampire,” Darby muttered. “Sunlight hurts their eyes, you know.”
Dad dropped us off at school on his way to work. When we got to Krapper High, I ducked out of the car, ready to dart to a tree because I needed to talk to Tram.
Jo appeared at my side while Dad and Darby drove off, her mouth flopping open. “I have sunglasses just like that.”
I watched them go, then turned to Jo, absorbing the comfort her brown eyes gave me. For someone who’d been possessed the night before, she seemed okay. Except for the frown that deepened the longer she looked at me, she appeared to be back to normal, but maybe a little tired.
“You’re...?” I started.
“Yeah.” She nodded, sensing my thoughts like only she could. “The bottoms of my feet itch, but I’m good. Delicious, according to Miguel.” Her mouth slid into a half smile, but it didn’t last. She scanned my face while chewing her lip. “Tell me,” she finally said.
I wished I didn’t have to. I wished we could plop down in front our lockers and share a pop tart like we always did before school. But like everything in my entire life, I couldn’t not tell Jo.
“We have serious issues.” I took her elbow and led her behind the one-story brick school to find a tree, taking cover in the thick shadows painting the grass, all the while attempting to explain the continuation of my horrid night.
A spring breeze tussled my hair. The air smelled like anticipation, that light, hopeful scent that clung to schools in May and made everyone stoked for summe
r.
Except me. Mud and glowing blue eyes and dead bodies and Mom and Darby seeped black gloom into my brain. It was so full of the stuff, I expected to find it leaking out my boots. But it didn’t. The green grass we stepped on stayed the way it should, and I allowed myself one happy second for that.
No wonder sunlight burned the backs of my eyes. It tried to pierce through all these dark thoughts with its cheerful bright color, but there were too many to penetrate. So it settled on hurting me until I could fake a smile up at it.
Well, screw you, sun. You’re just a boring old sphere, and you look like pee.
“This should not be happening,” Jo said. Her armful of bracelets jangled as she walked toward a spindly tree next to the back door of the school. “Everyone bad’s been captured, right?”
“Right, but...”
Wait, not everyone had been captured. Tram caught a thousand Sorceressi a day for supporting Gretchen, for being part of her secret cult, all over the world. But many of them still roamed free. What if there was some kind of Gretchen convention in Krapper to make sure I actually died this time to set her free? Then I would have a whole lot more issues to deal with than synchronized bloody noses.
I hurried my pace. When we stepped up to the tree, I sank under the shadows and rubbed my hand over the bark. “Tram?”
Jo knelt to pick a ladybug off a dandelion, her bracelets chiming. A beetle skittered away from my boot.
I leaned in close and pressed my lips against the tree. “Tram.” Nothing. “Shit.”
I yanked both sleeves up to see if I’d been bitten by a spider again. Tram couldn’t sense me with spider venom running through my veins. Under the bruises and welts, my old spider bite had lost its redness and didn’t itch anymore.
I lifted my shirt up to my bra. “Do I have a spider bite on me anywhere?”
What Gifts She Carried Page 2
