by Cady Vance
“Holy crap, what time is it?” I clicked the button on the side of my phone to light up the display.
“Only five,” Nathan said. “The storm is making it look later than it is.”
I closed the comic in my hand. “I’m having a great time, but I really need to get back home.”
“No problem,” he said. “Didn’t expect to stay this long anyway.”
We packed up the comics, got a couple of extra plastic bags from the front desk and stepped out into the rain. Neither of us had an umbrella, so we tried our best to protect Nathan’s books while we ran through the rain-soaked streets.
My feet splashed into a puddle, and I started to slide. I reached out and grabbed Nathan’s arm to catch my fall. He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me up, and my feet found the ground again. The way his hands brushed against my skin sent a spark of desire through me.
“Thanks,” I whispered up to him. My heart skipped a few beats. All I could focus on was the way the water dripped down his lips.
Rain beat my head, snapping me out of my daze. I turned to keep running, but Nathan didn’t let go.
“I wouldn’t let you fall,” he said in a hoarse voice.
Warmth spread through my entire body at the look in his eyes, at the way he held me like he didn’t ever want to let go. I didn’t care about the rain pouring over my face, my hair and my clothes, or about the cold seeping into my skin. I didn’t want his arms to fall away from my body. I wanted to press myself up against his chest until not even a breath of air could fit between us.
I kept staring at the fire in his eyes, the rain blurring my vision and making me feel like I was looking through foggy glass. His arms clutched tighter around me. My thoughts were crowded with one single thought. Kiss me. I rolled onto my tiptoes and reached my arms up around his neck. His fingers were hot coals on my back, even through my soaking wet shirt.
My face inched forward until Nathan lowered his head, forehead knocking mine. His lips brushed against my lips. My heart jumped wildly inside me because Nathan was kissing me. His lips were now firmly on mine, and I felt myself opening up to him and moving my mouth against his. His lips crushed harder against me, urgent and hungry for more.
When he finally pulled away, my heart pounded so hard I felt like it shook my entire body. My breathing was ragged. And I’d been right. Kissing Nathan was nothing like kissing Eric two years ago. This was different—so different my insides burned with the yearning to do it again. Now. I wanted to spend hours away from the world, just kissing Nathan.
He smiled through the water streaking down his face, and my heart felt so huge it could burst. “So, as much as I want to do that again, we probably shouldn’t keep standing here in the rain.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I said, grinning like a fool.
Instead of turning to go, he pulled me into his arms again.
CHAPTER 19
On the drive back, I was hyper aware of Nathan, especially of how his damp t-shirt clung to the planes of his chest and where his hand rested on the seat next to my knee. My skin itched for him to scoot it closer. The heat blasted from the vents again, but this time, I was way too alert to fall asleep.
Nathan glanced sideways at me and fiddled with the heating knobs. “You okay? Should we stop somewhere and buy some towels?”
“No, I’m getting warm. Sorry I’m dripping on your leather seats.” I smiled and tried not to let my eyes linger on his reddened lips.
“It was worth it.”
I bit my lip and stared down at my soggy sneakers, full of squishy hope. Yes, it was.
“So, what’s the plan for Megan and Jason?” Nathan asked as he took one hand off the wheel to roll up his damp sleeves.
“I think I’m going to call them and tell them to wait it out since Anthony is going to talk to the Congress. Hopefully, they can take care of all this in a few days…”
I went silent. Anthony and the Congress might take care of the Berrytown shamans, but now I had a decision to make. A horrible one that I wasn’t sure I could. Did I have the guts to summon a spirit? But more than that, could I live with myself if I summoned one onto someone else?
Could I live with myself if I didn’t?
More than ever, I wished there was someone I could turn to and ask for help or advice. Someone I could really trust who would give me the answer straight up without trying to shield me from it. I wasn’t a little kid anymore. I’d proven that by being able to take care of things—even if terribly—for the past year. And yet the only two people I knew—my mom and my dad—who I could look to for answers couldn’t give them to me.
The only person who had ever told me anything useful about shamanism was Anthony Lombardi. I should have stayed and asked more questions, found out as much as possible about the shaman world from him. But when I remembered his swirling eyes and the way he’d been way too eager to hand over his blood to me, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to stay. The guy gave me the creeps.
The car ride seemed both too long and too short. I wished it could last for hours so I could spend more time with Nathan, but I was also anxious to get home and check on my mom after what Anthony had said about the lack of time she had left. And as we pulled into my driveway, I wondered if the kiss had been a fluke, and now that all this was over, Nathan and I would go back to the way we were before. I wondered if he’d decide my life was too weird for him to get too close.
“Thanks for going with me.” I gave him a shy wave and hopped out of the car.
Nathan surprised me by getting out and walking to the front door with me, arms held over his head to shield his face from the light splatters of rain. We ducked under the roof that jutted out over the front stoop. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and looked up at him. He grinned and tugged at my now-dry, frizzy hair.
“I’ll call you later?” He shifted on his feet, clenched his jaw, and I realized he was as nervous as I was.
“Sounds good.” I held my breath and waited, but when he didn’t make a move forward, I pulled out my keys and turned to unlock the door. “See you later, Nathan.”
“Bye, Holly.”
***
When I dumped my backpack by the front door, the Witch’s Drum caught my eye. I smiled, remembering how Nathan had looked so intrigued by it. He knew about (most) of my life and still liked me. I sighed and made my way to the living room. I knew I’d have to worry about some serious stuff later, but right now, I was going to enjoy the fact that my love life had just gotten a lot more interesting. I couldn’t wait to call Laura and tell her.
Traditionally, my mom and I always reserved Saturdays for each other. Back when she’d been running her Spirit Consultation business, sometimes we’d miss a Saturday every now and then because of her work trips. But, most of the time, we spent the day together having breakfast, talking to catch up, going to the beach or just hanging around and watching lots of pulp movies. Since the attack, I’d still spent every Saturday with her. But it wasn’t the same at all.
I walked into the living room and called out, “I’m home! What movie do you want to watch tonight? Pulp Fiction okay? We could make our watch total twenty-two for this one.” Mom didn’t respond. She sat huddled under her wool blanket with her eyes closed. I hesitated, hating to wake her up if she was too tired.
When I stepped foot in the kitchen, Astral ran up to me and meowed in a loud agitated tone. His food bowl was empty. I grabbed the food from the cabinet, poured some kibble and gave him some fresh water. As I opened the refrigerator, he followed me, still meowing in some weird cat howl.
“What?” I asked him.
His orange tail twitched as he stared at me. And then he ran from the room. I crinkled my eyebrows and followed him into the living room where he sat in front of my mom, his tail beating the floor. Something shifted in my stomach.
“Mom?” I asked. Silence.
My fingers curled into fists as I walked over to her chair, leaned down and looked into her face. The k
nitting needles had fallen to the carpet. I picked them up and set them on the blanket next to her wilted hands.
Astral howled so loud, I jumped a foot in the air.
“Mom.” She didn’t move.
“Hey, wake up,” I said a little louder. Her breathing never faltered, her face slack in a peaceful expression. I really hated to wake her up, but I was more than a little freaked out by her unresponsiveness. It reminded me too much of the last couple of days. I took in a deep breath to calm my rattling nerves.
I placed my hand on her warm skin and shook her arm. “Mom, wake up.”
My fingernails carved lines into my palms as panic bubbled up in my throat. My shoulders clenched into knots. I smeared my sweaty palms against my jeans and shook her harder, fighting back the urge to scream. “MOM!”
Nothing. Nothing at all. The bitter taste of blood filled my mouth, and I realized my teeth were clenched tight on the insides of my cheeks.
Mom didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes, didn’t slow her breathing. It was like she couldn’t hear me. Like she had no idea I was here. A familiar scent pressed in around me, like something stale and rotten lurked somewhere nearby. I’d only smelled this once before. In Kylie’s house. When she was dying. My ragged breaths shook my body as all warmth swept out of me until I was left feeling frigid, my only emotion bitter fear.
“MOM!” I screamed, falling on my knees, “Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom!”
I choked on my words. My hands dug ruts into the carpet. I gasped for breath, tears pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks.
I shook her even harder, her body rocking back and forth, the blanket falling off her skin. My hands shuddered like an earthquake as I shoved the bone needles toward her and forced her fingers to close around them.
“Help.” I sobbed into her arms, hoping someone could hear me, hoping someone could make her better. “Someone please help.”
My mom wasn’t here anymore. She was gone.
CHAPTER 20
Sometime later, I found myself in the shower with steaming water pouring over me while I stood there fully clothed, shivering even though I could feel the warmth of the water. Time seemed to have slipped by, and all I could remember was freaking out because of my mom.
Mom. I groaned and placed my cheek against the blue tiles.
She wasn’t coming back. Not on her own. I knew it as well as I knew a shaman when I laid eyes on one. I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know why, but I knew it in my bones.
I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around my dripping clothes and headed to my room. After I changed, I fell onto my bed, the mattress springs squealing.
Mom wasn’t coming back on her own, but maybe it wasn’t too late for me to bring her back with the special incantation. I knew now that I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. Getting a glimpse of what it would feel like to lose her, seeing how vulnerable and innocent she looked…I shuddered.
Life comes with hard choices, right? Not everything is black and white, right or wrong. Anthony said the spirit wouldn’t even come close to killing anyone, just feed and go. In the end, the loss of a sliver of one person’s life—maybe just a month or two—was worth it to completely save another.
Right?
I just couldn’t think of who I was willing to do something like that to. It would have to be a stranger, no one personally connected to me. No way I’d ever be able to look anyone I knew in the eyes after hurting them, especially since I might not be able to look at my own face in the mirror ever again.
Me.
That was the perfect solution. I didn’t have to summon the spirit into someone else’s room. I could summon it into mine and feed myself to it. After all, I was the one who needed the information. And I was willing to give a little of my own life to get it.
This sounded like a suicide mission if there ever was one, but what choice did I really have? I could call Laura—ask her opinion, ask for help. I shook my head hard at that thought. I couldn’t get her involved. If something went wrong…
This was something I had to do alone. And something I had to do now. I didn’t know how much longer Mom had like this.
I opened my laptop, put on my favorite song and leaned against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of me, eyes closed. I couldn’t go into this with fear, anger or any sort of strong emotional energy surging through me. I felt drained, beat down and empty, but I knew there was something still simmering under the surface.
As the song played, I fell inside myself to bottle up everything I was feeling. Mom always told me it was one of the most dangerous parts of her job—forcing herself to feel nothing so often. One of her favorite things was heading to the amusement park to ride roller coasters all day long. She said being able to scream at the top of her lungs was therapeutic after keeping so much inside. It was her chance to let it all out without anyone thinking she was insane.
By the end of the song, I felt relaxed, like the drumming had beaten my emotions out of me. Like the strumming guitar had carried my fear away on sound waves, echoing somewhere else in the world.
I let it play a second time while I dug through my backpack and pulled out the purple bag Anthony had given me. I slid open the zipper and dumped out everything on the carpet. I felt sick at the sight of the dark red in a small tube about the size of my forefinger. I opened a tiny notebook with a rune drawn inside. Next to it was one word. Ananann.
I swallowed the lump of fear that burst up from just thinking about talking to a spirit. But I’d be the one in control here. The spirit would have to obey me. But knowing this didn’t stop the churning in my stomach.
I got out the rest of my supplies and turned off my music. After going through the motions of the spell, instead of burning the rune parchment, I placed it beside me on the carpet. I took in a slow breath. Then let it out. Slow in. Slow out.
I could do this. I could summon this thing.
Slow in. Slow out.
I closed my eyes and said in as a commanding voice as I could conjure, “Ananann.”
Power surged through me like a storm, biting and cold. Wind whipped past me. I gritted my teeth, vision blurring from the magic tumbling through me and into the room. It was like I was a vortex that had cracked open, the shaman magic channeling through me rough and fierce. This was nothing like any of the other shaman magic I’d done. That magic had been energizing and electric. This made me tremble from the toll it was taking on my mind and my body.
I felt a cry of fear bubble up in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
Then, slowly the magic dropped into a simmering thing, still harsh and cold, but calmer. I opened my eyes and looked right into the empty, eyeless face of a spirit. Ananann.
I jumped.
“What do you want, shaman?” It spoke in a low-pitched humming noise, and I knew it wasn’t English or any language I’d ever heard, even though I could understand what it meant.
“Information.” I spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable, hoping the spirit would be able to understand me, too. Hoping it didn’t notice how my voice shook.
“Speak.”
“Okay,” I said. “I need to know what happened to my mom and who did it to her.”
“Blood mother?” The spirit moved, suddenly closer.
I leaned back.
“Yes,” I said, feeling the need to answer in as few words as possible.
It rushed at me then, giving me a closer view of a spirit than I’d ever had before. It was dark, eyeless, noseless, with a black circle where its mouth should be. It had no features that I could tell. Everything was an oval blur of shifting shadows. And then it made a sound, a whiffing breathy sound like it was sniffing me. Smelling my blood.
Smelling my fear.
My eyes watered. I tried to put a clamp on my emotions, but they were whirling so much inside me that it was impossible. Being this close to my enemy, letting it be this near, took every ounce of self-control I owned. Knowing I would have to let it do more than smell
me later, I couldn’t help but have the itch to scoot back, shimmy away on my butt. But I forced myself to stay still.
It backed away, and even though it didn’t have a face, I could have sworn it looked unhappy.
“I have information. Where is my payment?”
I took a deep breath before saying the words that would take away part of my life. “Right here. Me. You can feed after you’ve told me what you know.”
The spirit let out a low hissing noise that grated and scratched my eardrums.
“Fool,” the spirit said. “You are foolish to call upon me without knowing the rules.”
Rules? Anthony didn’t mention any rules.
“I don’t understand,” I said, trying to calm the pattering of my heart. Anthony knew I hadn’t done this before, and he hadn’t told me about these so-called rules. What else had he kept from me? What did I have to do to find out who did this to my mom?
“Of course you don’t,” it hissed, whipping its strange head from side to side. It rushed back to me, sniffing at my face again, letting out a low guttural noise that sent shivers racing along every surface of my skin. “Your blood is strong, full of power, full of magic. I very much desire to feed on you, but I cannot.” It rushed back again, and this time I flinched away. “You summoned me with your blood and the blood of the one who bound me. I cannot harm you.”
“No.” I shook my head slowly. This couldn’t be happening. I’d have to summon the spirit on someone else. My mind whirled, trying to figure out another option, but I knew there was no other way. The spirit seemed angry, ready to leave here, and if I didn’t give in, it might disappear without telling me who the shaman was. “Fine. I’ll pay you after. Just tell me about my mom.”
“Done.”
A frosty tingling rushed through my veins, a sensation similar to the binding spell I performed with Laura. Invisible ropes tightened around my skin. I choked out a shocked breath. It was like the spirit was binding me…to my words, to my promise of payment.
