“Yes, Ileana will do my bidding.” Still staring at the painting of his disapproving, willful mother, Thantos continued, “Because I know what she wants. Who she wants. I’ve known him since he was a boy. His name was Bevin then, a reckless orphan in my service. I took him in when he had nothing, was nobody, a forlorn little warlock. He has a new name now. Brice. He is famous, rich, and powerful. And he knows what he owes me!”
CHAPTER NINE
SNAKES AND STOOGES
The diner wasn’t really crowded, it just sounded that way to Alex. At one end of the smoky restaurant, she, Cam, Lucinda, and Evan were wedged into a corner booth. Andy Yatz was a couple of tables away, sipping the dregs of a Coke and mooning over Lucinda. At the counter, an elderly twosome was noisily sharing a meat loaf platter, and a couple of truckers were sucking down caffeine and yukking it up with the waitress.
Everyone was either talking or thinking too loudly when Alex spotted the trio outside.
Cam thought she heard her sister saying something, but caught up in her own horror movie about the body in the trailer, and with Luce chattering nonstop opposite her, and Andy’s loud slurping, she missed Alex’s Yo, it’s them!
Hello! Alex cleared her throat, coughed, and finally got Cam to look at her. Check out the door. Look who’s there.
Cam turned. “Who?” she asked aloud.
Alex rolled her eyes, disgusted.
Lucinda turned to Cam. “Who what?” she asked.
Aw, no. Not now, Alex heard Evan grumble to himself as he spotted the trio of boys moving toward them.
All three were dressed in black. Two, who Cam guessed were the Applebees because of their resemblance to each other — small puffy eyes, wide pug noses, and humorless thin lips — were both wearing beat-up black parkas that had a greasy sheen to them from too many seasons of wear. There was something about the coats that seemed familiar.
The shorter of the two boys had a black kerchief tied around his head. Riggs, Alex silently identified him. The other brother’s head was bare; his wet hair rubber-banded back in a scraggly ponytail. A familiar ponytail, Cam thought with a shiver. Kyle, she heard. Clearly, he was the leader of the pack, and mean.
The third boy — Derek — wore a big felt cowboy hat with a feather in the band. He was wrapped in a black coat with a short cape attached to it, a western-style duster that reached the ankles of his grungy, wet snakeskin boots. Despite the rough-rider costume, Cam felt that he was a fraud — as surely as she knew ponytail boy was dangerous.
The dark trio brushed past the truckers, who dropped change onto the counter for their coffees and headed for the door, deep in conversation.
“Yo, kung fu man, wassup?” the ponytailed boy called to Evan. His words were casual, easygoing, but there was a threatening edge to his tone that prickled the skin on Cam’s neck. She’d heard that voice before, but where?
“Kyle, dude,” Ev answered, knocking fists with him unenthusiastically.
Kyle patted his grungy jacket pockets, fished out a lighter, and began mindlessly flicking it on and off.
“Hey, Riggs,” Alex greeted Kyle’s younger brother. He was short but massively built, and his bristly, shaved head was covered in a black do-rag. He was also wearing black leather gloves, she noticed, with the tips cut off so his red, chapped fingers and grungy nails stuck out. They were the kind of gloves weight lifters wore, but plain dumb for this weather. It tickled Alex to see Riggs Applebee trying to look so tough. She’d known him when he was a skinny, picked-on kid in fourth grade.
Back then, the Applebees were just these dirt-poor, skinny little guys whose mom had run off and left them. Alex had felt sorry for Riggs, who was in her class, and Kyle, who was a year older. It was a terrible time for them. Their daddy didn’t know how to take care of them and they’d started looking crusty and failing at school and some kids got really brutal with them, saying — right to their faces — that the reason their mama split was because they were so dumb and dirty she couldn’t stand being with them.
Up until that time, it was Derek Jasper everyone had picked on. He was the smallest kid in class, even smaller than Riggs Applebee, he had a high squeaky voice, which changed by the time they started middle school, and he was new to Crow Creek, having grown up on the Northern Cheyenne reservation near Busby.
Riggs and Derek had started hanging out together. At first, Alex remembered, she’d been glad for them that they’d each found a friend, found someone to “watch their backs.” And, of course, they both looked up to Kyle because he was a whole year older. Then, suddenly, it seemed, they’d changed. A lot. Derek had a growth spurt and his voice didn’t just get deeper, it became an angry growl. The three of them started pumping iron. By the time everyone was at Crow Creek Regional, the Applebee boys and Derek Jasper had gotten tattoos and attitude. They didn’t just freeze out the kids who’d teased them, either. They wouldn’t even talk to Alex, Lucinda, or Evan, who’d been as friendly to them as fellow outcasts could be.
That was when Evan dubbed them snakes and stooges. Unfortunately, other kids picked up on it and the name stuck.
Riggs looked her up and down now. Then he recognized her. “Alex Fielding. Yo, what are you doing around here? I heard you broke out of this place —”
“Just visiting,” Alex said, but Riggs had just seen Cam and his small puffy eyes were bugging. He let out a low whistle. “Jeez, you guys could be twins.”
“Duh, Riggs,” Lucinda murmured. “That’s ’cause they are.”
“Didn’t you hear?” His older brother, Kyle, snickered — and Cam noticed that he had a chipped front tooth. “They cloned weird girl. Ain’t that right, Piggy?”
Lucinda reddened and lowered her head. Kyle moved the flame of his lighter near her cheek.
“Quit it, Kyle,” Andy hollered from his table.
Kyle blew out the flame and stuffed the lighter back into his pocket. “Man, I wouldn’t take her to a dogfight ’cause I’m afraid she’d win,” the ponytailed stooge taunted. His partners giggled and snickered.
Evan started to get up, but Alex grabbed his hand.
“Call me when your IQ hits room temperature,” Cam blurted out.
“Whoa.” Kyle turned to her. “That sounded really cold. I bet I’d be bummed if I knew what you were talking about.”
The jackass chorus chimed in again with grunts and guffaws. Then the duster-wearing Derek, the tallest of the trio, even without his ten-gallon hat, reached onto Luce’s plate and started to help himself to her grilled cheese.
Andy stood up. But Evan had already grabbed Luce’s fork and whacked the back of Derek’s hand with it. The boy yelped.
“Yo, forget it, DJ.” Riggs Applebee tugged Derek away from the table.
“Sit down, hero.” Kyle pushed Andy back into his chair.
“Leave him alone, you big bozo,” Luce shouted at Kyle.
He glared at her for a moment, then he grinned. “Yeah, right, Cinder-elephant!”
“You know Sheriff Carson comes in here all the time,” Lucinda reminded Kyle, though her gaze was aimed at Andy, who looked painfully embarrassed.
“I’m shivering in my boots” was Kyle’s brilliant response.
Cam felt a shock of recognition, as if she knew him, remembered his chip-toothed snarl, his menacing posture.…
He was looking at her now. “Yo, Doublemint girl. Something on your mind?”
Did he know what she was thinking? Was he more than just a bully; was Kyle Applebee, like Shane, one of Thantos’s messengers?
Doubtful, Alex answered Cam’s unspoken question, but he is definitely a rank dude.
Rank? Understatement alert, Cam retorted angrily. Don’t ever diss Bree to me again! Compared to your hometown clowns, she’s —
But Alex had tuned out.
“Tell them,” Luce was whispering to Evan, who was looking ill since his so-called crew had showed up. “You’ve got to tell them. Alex can help you. I’m sure of it.”
Evan gloomily dismis
sed his old friend. “You’re sure,” he whispered back. “What, are you going psychic now? Alex can’t do anything about this. And neither can anyone else. It’s going to happen, that’s all. And you’d better do what I told you.”
“Let’s go, Fretts,” Kyle ordered Evan. “We’ve got… stuff to do—”
“What kind of stuff?” Cam asked as Evan tossed his napkin on top of his half-eaten hamburger.
Kyle gave her a hard look. He pulled out his lighter again and began flicking it on and off compulsively. “Yo, Alex Two,” he warned Cam, “keep your nose out of it, okay?”
“Watch how you talk to her, Kyle. She’s a friend,” Evan told him, reluctantly sliding out of the booth.
“Maybe, kung fu, but where is she going to be next week, huh?” Kyle held the flame alongside Evan’s cheek. Evan pushed the older boy’s hand away.
“Yeah, who’s going to watch your back next week?” Derek challenged him.
“So, Riggs, how’ve you been?” Alex tried to reroute them. “What’ve you been up to? Want a fry?” She held up a greasy potato stick.
“Call that a fry?” Kyle made a face as his brother reached for it.
Derek knocked the french fry out of Riggs’s hand. “Yo, don’t you remember from school? She’s a weirdo, dude. Who knows what she did to that thing?”
Riggs Applebee shoved Derek, sending him sprawling backward against a counter stool, his hat over his eyes.
“Anyway, I like curly fries, not those limp pieces of puke you’re eating,” Kyle told the twins.
“No big,” Alex said, focusing on the leftovers on her plate. She could picture the straight-cut potato twisting as if she’d picked one up and wrung it out, twisting and soaring up, up, up. Then the rush started in her gut.
Go for it, she could hear Cam will. Alex looked up and saw her sister smiling, smiling and rubbing the sun charm she wore around her neck.
Alex stood abruptly, accidentally flipping her plate. Food flew. A startled shout cut off Kyle’s laughter. Two french fries had spiraled from the flying dish, corkscrewing into ponytail boy’s nostrils.
Riggs backed off, gasped, then clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from cracking up. From the floor, Derek pushed back his ten-gallon hat and stared up, awestruck at Kyle Applebee’s potato-horned nose.
Poor guy, Cam giggled silently to Alex, I bet those fries are cold. She stared at them — as everyone else was doing — until the tips glowed red-hot and wisps of smoke oozed from Kyle’s nostrils.
His eyes went wide as a mad cow’s and his outraged bellow added to the illusion. “Moo some-ding!” he hollered.
“Do something?” Cam translated.
Evan grabbed Alex’s glass of water and threw its contents in Kyle’s face.
The fire hissed out. Coughing and sputtering, Kyle shook his head wildly. The fries flew free. One splatted onto Derek’s black cowboy hat; the other landed on his brother’s black parka.
Kyle glowered. “You think that’s funny,” he jeered at Alex and Cam, who were trying not to laugh. He pulled out a knife.
Evan grabbed the older boy’s arm but Kyle easily shook him off.
“Give that to me!” Andy leaped up unexpectedly.
Still holding the weapon, Kyle whirled around. The knife sliced through Andy’s down jacket. “Who you giving orders to college boy?” he sneered.
“Look outside, you bonehead,” Lucinda called triumphantly.
They all did and saw the revolving red light of Sheriff Carson’s car pulling into the diner parking lot.
CHAPTER TEN
THE MORGUE
The stooges scattered, Evan hurrying after them, as the sheriff came into the diner, with Mrs. Bass.
Andy and Lucinda might just as well have left, too. They were standing together, oblivious to everything around them. “No, really, you scared him,” Alex heard Luce say breathlessly. The glowing girl began to massage her hero’s shoulder.
“Mmm,” Andy murmured, “that feels great. Hey, but you’re the one who called him a bonehead.”
Luce shrugged modestly. “Yeah, but you tried to take the knife away.”
I’m going to toss, Alex thought.
Then she saw the look on Mrs. Bass’s face and felt as though she really might. Clutching her stomach, she stood up. Automatically, Cam stood with her and took her hand.
“Who was it?” Cam asked.
“The body in the trailer,” Alex murmured.
“We think it’s him. Ike.” Sheriff Carson took off his trooper’s hat. “Your dad,” he added respectfully.
“Ike, her dad? As if,” Lucinda cried, going over to Alex. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Even if he was a jerk.”
The sheriff turned to Alex. “We’d like you to come down to the coroner’s office, just to make sure,” he said softly.
“Do I have to?” Alex asked. “Mrs. Bass knows him. Lots of other people in town do, too.”
“Actually, I’d like to talk with you, anyway. I mean, I’m new here and there are things you’d know about Mr. Fielding that I don’t. Like most everything.” The sheriff smiled good-naturedly. “It’d be a big help if you would.”
Cam watched her twin’s face, concentrated hard on what Alex was thinking. Okay. Might as well, she heard her sister decide.
“I’m coming with you,” she said softly, following Alex out of the booth.
Alex nodded. “We’ll be right out,” she told the sheriff and Mrs. Bass.
“What’s up?” Cam asked as soon as they left.
“I feel sick.”
“Well, sure,” Cam said consolingly. “He was a loser, but still — ”
“No. Well, yeah. But that’s not all of it. Luce definitely knows something about what Evan’s up to. She was trying to get him to tell me what was going on —”
Cam glanced at Lucinda and Andy. “No use trying to break into her brain. It’s mush at the moment. She is so not about Evan right now.” Cam smiled despite the queasiness in her stomach. “Later for that, okay?”
“Right. First things first. Ever been to a morgue before?” Nervousness made Alex giggle.
“Duh, no,” Cam said sarcastically. “Don’t know how I missed it. You take me to all the best places.”
Fifteen minutes later, there was no sarcasm or giggling left in them.
Cam stood outside the coroner’s office. “Stood” didn’t exactly nail it. She was propped against the concrete wall, her head hanging down, her shoulders hunched forward. Sweat soaked her burning face as she tried with all her might to forget the grayish-white corpse. It had been lying under the plastic sheet that the doctor pulled back so that Alex could see and identify it.
Not it, Cam told herself. Him.
Alex had seen him all right. They both had. Only Alex hadn’t thrown up. Cam had.
She’d gotten increasingly jittery waiting to go into the morgue, waiting while Sheriff Carson interviewed Alex about Ike. So by the time they’d walked into the basement room, she was primed to hurl.
At least, Cam thought, she’d made it to the sink instead of spewing on the corpse.
Alex hadn’t puked, but her eyes had teared up. For a minute, Cam thought her sister was crying. But no. She had teared up because of the stinging combo of formaldehyde, antiseptic, and detergent the morgue was awash in.
The doctor had come over to the sink — after Cam had guiltily rinsed it out — and suggested that she might be more comfortable outside.
No argument. She fled. While Alex stood staring down at the body on the gleaming metal slab.
He was the color of cement. Gray. His hair. His face and neck and scrawny chest. All bloodlessly gray. All except for his arm. One arm. Which was the thing that had pushed Cam over the line.
The dead man’s right arm — a patch of it, anyway — was covered in bumps, green boils, reeking like ripe cheese right through the other harsh odors in the room. The patch of putrid skin extended all the way down to his hand, which was bent into a claw shape and had thick yellow n
ails.
The door to the morgue opened and Alex came out.
“Was it him?” Cam asked.
Alex nodded. “Ike,” she said, and cleared her voice. “It was a double whammy, the coroner said,” she went on. “He had a blowout, a doubleheader: His brain exploded and his heart gave out — from a sudden surge in blood pressure. Get this — ‘brought on by stress.’” She shook her head. “Ike Fielding didn’t get stressed; he gave it.”
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry, Als.”
Her sister looked at her as if she were crazy.
“I mean, I’m sorry I tossed back there. But also,” Cam said with defiant honesty, “I’m sorry it was him, Ike, your stepdad. I just… I never saw anyone dead.”
“Scared to death,” Alex said. “That’s what they think happened to him. I guess he was staying at the trailer and someone or something got inside and freaked him out — permanently. And that first thing I smelled? It was gasoline. They think Ike was trying to keep warm or something. There were piles of newspapers and rags soaked in gasoline.” She was crying now, Cam saw.
Mrs. Bass came down the stairs. She put an arm around each of them and led them out to the parking lot, where Sheriff Carson was waiting to drive them home. Once there, the librarian offered to fix them some tea, but Cam and Alex said they’d rather just lie down in their room for a while.
Cam pulled out her cell phone as soon as they were behind closed doors.
“I don’t believe you,” Alex groused. “You’re going to CNN our excellent adventure? Who’s the lucky callee, Beth or Bree?” Alex threw herself back on her bed.
“Brush up your mojo, Als,” Cam said gently. “I’ve got to tell the ’rents. They’re going to find out, anyway.”
Cam made the call, reached Dave, and spilled the story, adding lots of assurances that they were all right and being taken care of by Mrs. Bass and Sheriff Carson.
By the time she got off the phone, Alex was sitting up again. “Guess what?” Cam said, to change the subject. “Dave heard that Bree’s dad bailed on her birthday party and took off for Mexico, where some movie he’s making ran into trouble or something —” Cam realized that her sister was shaking and looking extremely ill. “Als … are you all right?”
T*Witches: Dead Wrong Page 6
