I would have done anything to see that familiar look of disapproval in her eyes or to be on the receiving end of a blast of shit because I hadn't listened for like the jillionth time. That's what was supposed to happen when I screwed up; Mom would rip at me with a sharp comment or criticism and we'd have an argument until one of us stormed off.
But not this time.
I gently placed a hand on Mom's cheek and whispered a word of magic stupidly thinking that my magic could somehow kickstart her brain, but nothing happened.
Not a thing.
It was shortly before 1pm when Marla Lavik walked into the hospital room and to her credit, she didn't turn it into a dramatic affair.
Yeah, right.
"I didn't know if I should come," said Marla. She placed a black lace covered hand on my shoulder. "And when I got here the staff gave me a hard time because they didn't want me to scare the patients. Assholes! How is she doing?"
"No change," I said quietly as I squeezed my mother's hand. "You know, she drives me nuts every day and yet I can't imagine my life without her. Now she's probably going to die and–"
Marla put her arms around me and I buried my face in her shoulder. "Don't say that, Julie!" she said firmly. "You just have to believe she's going to get through this. The doctors will figure it out."
I sniffed loudly. "I keep hoping that you're right but the looks on the faces of the nurses tell me a different story."
"I know," Marla replied. "But you just have to hold on, okay? She'd want you to keep hoping, Jules."
I nodded and let out another sniff. I pulled away from Marla and I ran my sleeve across my tear filled eyes. "The doctor said there's no reason that Mom should be in a coma. There's no head trauma, no lack of oxygen to her brain… Nothing."
"Maybe for them it's as impossible to figure out as trying to find a rational explanation for happened at school yesterday, Jules. And what the hell was your mom doing inside the girls' washroom anyway?"
I glanced at Marla through the corner of my eye. I couldn't tell her that it was Mom who told me to get everyone out of the school because it was under a magical attack and that her soul had been ripped out of her body, so I decided to lie. It's not exactly like I had a choice in the matter.
"She was coming to get me because I texted her," I said being careful to observe Marla's reaction. "What's everyone saying about all the lockers and stuff?"
Marla shrugged. "That it was a small earthquake – a tremor. But I'm calling bullshit on that story because the science club posted to their Facebook page something about there being no data from the Faculty of Geology at the university to prove there was an earthquake. All I know is what I saw in that bathroom was real. It was a ghost, Jules. I never believed in ghosts until yesterday."
"I know," I said in a hollow voice. "Thanks for coming, Marla."
She adjusted her latex corset with a sharp tug and then walked over to the other side of the hospital bed. I shifted my gaze back to my mother, not wanting to really talk while at the same time hoping that Marla wouldn't leave. I appreciated the company and anything is better than hanging out with a spiritual babysitter that's occupying a dying person's body. We'd said nothing to each other for a few minutes when Marla decided to break the silence.
And I really wished she hadn't.
"So, Jules," she said carefully. "About that text last night."
I blinked. "What about it?"
She avoided my gaze and shrugged. "Well, all that stuff I said about Marcus. I mean, this is probably the wrong time to be talking about boys."
"You're right, it is the wrong time," I said coolly.
Marla nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so. I wasn't thinking about you or what you must be going through. I was being self-centered again. I'm a rubbish friend."
I folded my arms across my chest and raised an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me that you're looking for consolation, Marla. I don't have it in me right now and your timing blows, by the way."
"Because I said that I liked Marcus?"
I flashed a fiery glare. "No, because you're talking about boy stuff when I'm holding a bedside vigil for my dying mother!"
She motioned for me to calm down. "Okay, Jules. I get it. Just chill."
"Fine," I snapped. "Listen, Marla, I'd just like to be alone for a while, okay?"
I could have sworn that I saw a flicker of anger in Marla's eyes as she circled the bed. She opened her arms to give me another hug but I raised a hand and shook my head.
"I'm sorry about your mom, Jules," she said quietly. "Text me okay?"
"Yeah, I'll text you, Marla. Later."
I had little to say to Betty after Marla left, partly because I still wasn't sure about my feelings for Marcus, but mostly because I simply didn't like the idea of another girl pursuing him. I didn't want to talk about my feelings because I didn't even know what my feelings were. This was compounded by the fact that I felt like a total ass for even thinking about romance when my mother was at death's door.
Like, how the hell are you supposed to deal with this kind of stuff? What's the right way to feel? Under normal circumstances, I'd be able to talk my feelings out with Mom, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. And there was no way on earth I'd be opening up to Betty. I needed to focus, so I pushed my encounter with Marla out of my head as Betty and I left the hospital. It was blisteringly hot outside, so I threw on my sunglasses as we walked down the shalecovered path toward Fourteenth Street.
Betty blew her nose and stuffed the Kleenex under her sleeve. "You've said nothing to me since we got to the hospital, Julie. Is everything alright?"
"What do you think?" I said icily.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my purse so I flipped it open. It was a text from Marcus and I was in a bitchy mood.
Great.
HawkingFan: Hi. I'm just getting on the C-Train. R U Okay?
Jules: Yes.
HawkingFan: R U at home? I can come over.
Jules: No.
HawkingFan: ??
Jules: What?
HawkingFan: Nothing. I was just wondering if you were going to use sentences instead of one word answers at some point in this discussion.
Jules: Whatever.
HawkingFan: Where R U?
Jules: Train.
HawkingFan: Okay R U mad at me because I'd like to know what I did wrong given that I've been at school all day. I'm selfish that way.
Oh man. I was mad at Marcus. I scrolled up to reread what I'd written when I realized that I'd gone from bitch to just plain evil in fewer than a hundred characters on the screen. But why was I angry at him? He hadn't done anything wrong. Christ, all he was doing was checking in on me because he was worried and I was treating him like a sack of shit. Once again, I whacked myself in the forehead with my cell phone. Just because I wasn't sure about my feelings for Marcus and that I wasn't crazy about his being on Marla's love radar was no reason for me to be a bitch. I thumbed the keypad quickly.
Jules: Look, I'm sorry okay?
HawkingFan: I know. I'm sorry for snapping at you.
Jules: No. I was a bitch. I deserved that.
HawkingFan: So what's the next move?
Jules: Not sure. Will be at Southland Mall Station at 3. Can u meet me there?
HawkingFan: Yep. TTYL
Jules: TTYL Marcus. Thx.
We met Marcus on the train platform at Southland Mall and I noticed that Marcus' T-shirt had a large purple stain running down the middle of his back. It was clear that Mike Olsen must have decided to exact some revenge after my little encounter with him. Naturally I felt bad about it and I had to stop myself from vowing to throw a hex at Mike's knee whenever the Crescent Ridge Eagles played another football game. Marcus seemed to have taken it all in his stride. Maybe after so many years of being pushed around, he'd become desensitized to it.
And naturally I felt like a shit to the power of a million for dumping on him via text.
"So this Hudibras guy is part of something
called the Left Hand Path, huh?" asked Marcus as we entered the train. I sat down on a graffiti covered seat and Marcus slid in next to me. "This is getting more dangerous by the moment. Who are these guys anyway?"
Betty took her seat across the aisle from us; her leopard skin outfit was wrinkly from having been worn for two days straight and I noticed her pallor had taken on an almost greyish tone.
"Bad dudes with a hate-on for witches," I said flatly as the train left the station. "Let's maybe keep it down. You never know who might be listening."
Marcus nodded. "Oh, sorry. Look, Julie, your mom is in the hospital – let's just go home, okay?"
I clenched my jaw and dug my fingers into my backpack. "The only thing that matters right now is finding out who attacked her. I need your help on this, Marcus."
"Be patient, Julie," Betty chimed in. "Let your instincts guide you."
Again with the Obi-Wan Kenobi talk! I let out a weary sigh. I knew that we were dealing with someone whose magical qualities easily surpassed my own, but I had Betty to back me up and a bone to pick with whoever did this to my mother. Of course, dealing with the Left Hand Path presented a host of dangers because if dark magic represents the bad side of town when it comes to witchcraft and sorcery, then the Left Hand Path is the bad side of the bad side of town.
Who are they?
First off, there's argument among a lot of religious and philosophical scholars about whether the Left Hand Path is simply a belief system as opposed to, you know, really freaking evil people. Just close your eyes and think of the most terrifying experience of your life and multiply it by a jillion or so. They're into everything from human sacrifice to necromancy… Yeah, you heard me, some of these whack jobs actually raise the dead! The worst of the bunch worship the Devil himself and are bent on bringing about the end of days, as in the apocalypse.
And it was looking like whoever stole my mother's soul was one of them.
We sat in silence for a few moments. The train rounded a corner and came to a smooth stop at the Stampede Station platform. I gave Marcus a gentle nudge. "I'm sorry for dragging you into all this Hudibras stuff. I mean, you've already been attacked and you saved Marla Lavik from likely the same dark magic. I treated you like shit today and I just totally suck at this."
He offered a thin smile and I noticed his eyes softened as he gazed at me. "It's cool, Julie. I've seen all kinds of weird ass stuff as long as I've known you. From what happened in your shed to the time a disembodied voice started a conversation with us during that time when we were ten. Remember that camping trip?"
I snorted. "Yeah, it said it was the spirit of Albert Einstein and it told you the theory of relativity was a sham. You got pretty ticked off about that as I recall."
Marcus chuckled. "Yeah, it tried to convince me that mass and energy weren't equivalent or transmutable – like that could ever happen. Anyway, like I said, I'm cool with you sometimes keeping me in the dark. I know you worry my brain might turn into sludge or something with all this crazy stuff going on, but you know what?"
"What's that?"
He beamed at me. "I'm really fascinated by all this, you know? I mean, everything that I've seen since I've known you defies my understanding of science and it's really mind-blowing. I'm actually starting to believe that magic and the supernatural is an undiscovered branch of physics. Maybe it's always been there, you know? Maybe our primitive monkey brains aren't attuned to this stuff and people like you and your mom are possibly the next link in human evolution. I wonder if this fits in with string theory somehow… I'm going to have to make a mental note to research that."
"Marcus," I said softly. "You don't have to come with us for this."
His eyebrows arched. Clearly he hadn't expected me to give him an out. "I've got your back," he said.
"You only saw a part of what happened in the girls' bathroom yesterday," I said grimly.
"I saw the aftermath," he replied. "I saw the ambulance take away your mom and I saw you crying your eyes out at the hospital last night."
"Marcus, there's a reason why Mom's in the hospital and we don't have much time," I said firmly. "While you were at school today, Betty and I pieced together some missing facts from when you and I were looking at that video on YouTube. This is really big, okay? We're dealing with some really serious stuff here."
He waved a hand in protest and his eyes narrowed. "Serious as in something more substantive than an attempt on you and your mom's life?"
"Yeah."
"The Left Hand Path would imply there's a Right Hand Path, am I correct?"
I nodded silently.
"Then I would assume people like you and your mom generally have your feet planted firmly on the right, so that would mean anyone on the Left Hand Path would be like your evil doppelganger or something."
Betty pursed her lips tightly. "And some of those beings would love nothing more than to sink their teeth in you."
"No doubt," said Marcus as he glanced out the window. "Where are we going again?"
The train entered a tunnel and the sound of the steel wheels coasting along the rails roared through the open windows.
"We're going to–"
Suddenly the train lurched, pushing us hard into the seats. The lights went out both inside the train and along the tunnel walls and a shower of bright orange sparks lit up the darkness outside the window as the train ground to a sudden and unexpected stop. My stomach pitched violently as I doubled over, clutching my midsection.
"Julie, are you okay?" Marcus asked in a worried voice.
The two dozen or so passengers started whispering in panicked voices. I reached out with my senses just as an unearthly roar blasted through the tunnel, shaking the car like it was a toy in a child's hand. The roar and the shaking ended and an ominous silence fell on the passengers.
But only for a moment.
"Get your hand off me!" a woman shrieked.
"I didn't do nothing, lady!" a male voice rang out.
The emergency lights flickered for a moment and came to life. What I saw next sent every passenger tearing for the exit.
Dozens of purses and cell phones floated near the ceiling of the car. Jackets and briefcases danced about in the air, as if guided by an unseen force. I heard a cracking sound behind me and ducked as a poster for next year's Calgary Stampede tore off its moorings and sailed into a window, shattering the glass into thousands of tiny cube-shaped pieces. I heard a whooshing sound, and suddenly both sets of doors on the sides of the car nearest the tunnel wall opened. The emergency lights flickered again. The two dozen passengers nearly trampled each other to death in their race to get off the train as quickly as possible.
"Same energy that I felt at the school," I said, still clutching my stomach.
"What do we do?" Marcus said.
Betty got up from her seat looking wholly unimpressed.
"We send it back to wherever it came from. Julie, my powers don't work terribly well if I'm underground. There are fewer living elements from which I can draw on to fuel my magic. If you can detect the source of the energy, there's a chance you can hex it."
My bench seat started shaking and I clutched my amulet as I grabbed Marcus and scrambled to the back of the car.
"I'll give it a try," I said, through stinging tears of pain. "I hope I've got enough in me."
I clenched my jaw and drove my fist into the mass of supernatural fury. Marcus stood up to shield me from the flying debris, his body pounded by everything the passengers had left.
"Just hang tight!" he grimaced as a briefcase sailed into the back of his head. "I've got you covered!"
I wanted to draw another protective dome of energy, but it would keep me from finding the source of the poltergeist activity, so I grated my teeth together and shut my eyes. I reached out with my Sight and saw a haunting liquid-like glow that ran off the walls of the car, forming pools of shimmering malice along the floor. I pushed my senses further, through pure, concentrated hate that threatened to suck
the air from my lungs. Then, in the center of the ceiling, I saw it: a throbbing, pulsating blob of energy that bubbled and seethed with a simmering anger that felt as old as time itself. It sensed my presence as I probed for a weak point to direct my hex, and then the unexpected happened.
It spoke to me.
"Being very useful for these times," the voice dripped with menace. "Wherein the Devil reigns and prevails over the souls of poor creatures, in drawing them to that crying sin of witchcraft. I shall not suffer a witch to live!"
A jolt swept me off my feet, sending me tumbling against the back of the car. Marcus raced to my aid but suddenly he was lifted off the floor by his left ankle. He dangled in mid-air for less than a second and then he flew into the wall behind me, with a hard thud.
Poltergeeks Page 10
