“So this is your room,” Harlow said conversationally as I busied myself rummaging through my closet for the old jewelry box I no longer used.
“You sound surprised.”
“I'm a little surprised,” he admitted. “I don't know. I guess I kind of expected to see a room full of trophies and awards all over the place.”
I poked my head out of the closet to find him trailing his fingers across the edge of my desk as he studied the piles of papers and books I had put there. “Well, it's not like you've never seen my room before,” I reminded him pointedly.
“Yeah, but I never got the chance to say it to your face.”
I ducked back inside the closet and continued my search. “How did you get inside my house unnoticed anyway?”
Harlow didn't answer right away and for a second I thought he might not. “Seriously?” he challenged.
“Yes.”
“Magic.”
I sighed heavily in response as something clicked in my head and my stomach knotted at the thought of bringing it up, but I had to. “Hey, were you in the clearing this morning?”
He didn't deny it.
I took his silence as a yes and closed my eyes in an effort to maintain my composure. Digging through the pile of clothes on my closet floor that I’d set aside for donation, I unearthed the jewelry box. “Do you think this will work?” I asked, backing out of the closet—right into Harlow.
Harlow smiled a little. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
“Great!” I replied abruptly, uncomfortable with his close proximity. “Let's go!” Scooting around Harlow, I hurried downstairs without looking back.
When we returned to Harlow’s house, Ivy was sitting at the kitchen table drawing on the inside of her wrist with a Sharpie. Nick was nowhere to be seen. “He went out to get some air,” she informed us, not tearing her attention from her wrist.
“Good,” Harlow said, sounding a little relieved.
I set the small, wooden jewelry box on the table. Following my lead, Harlow handed Ivy the necklace.
Ivy put the Sharpie down. “Perfect!” she said, regarding the jewelry box, and I almost couldn't believe that she was sort of giving me a compliment. She added, “I need a candle.”
Harlow disappeared into the living room to retrieve a candle just as Ivy had done the first time I'd been here. He returned seconds later and handed her a short, wide, cream-colored candle.
She began strategically placing each object, pulling the box toward her so that it was front and center. Next, she positioned the candle to the left of the jewelry box and the necklace was placed on the table above the box. She closed her eyes and a second later the candle started burning. Without opening her eyes, Ivy began to chant in what I could only make out to be a combination of Latin and another language I didn’t recognize. She repeated the words four times before the candle burned out. “It's not done yet. Rayna put the necklace in the box and then close the lid.”
Gently, I lifted the iron moon pendant from the table, examining it closely one last time before closing the necklace inside the jewelry box as I was told.
Ivy held out her hand. “Pocketknife,” she said to Harlow.
He seemed taken aback by her request, but reached into the pocket of his jeans and handed her his pocketknife.
Turning to me, she said, “Rayna you're not going to like this next part, but it has to be done to complete the spell. Give me your hand. Palm facing up.”
Eyeing the pocket knife in her hand, it dawned on me what she was about to do. “You're going to slice my hand open!” I protested.
“Don't be so dramatic,” Ivy scoffed, grabbing my hand as the back door slid open forcefully, causing me to jump. “Jeez, Rayna!” Ivy barked. “I’m holding a knife here!”
Nick slipped through the door, holding a towel around himself. “Well doesn’t this look interesting?” he said snidely, grinning at the knife in Ivy’s hand and my hand in the other.
“Put some clothes on,” Ivy told him distastefully. To me, she said, “Are you ready, Rayna?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Beside me, Harlow slipped his hand into my free one in an attempt to comfort me. My first instinct was to pull away, but one look at the sharp edge of the knife made me squeeze Harlow’s hand tighter. My eyes squeezed shut, gasping as the knife cut into my skin.
Ivy took my injured hand and pressed my palm flush against the lid of the jewelry box. Holding it there she repeated the spell once more. After releasing my hand she said, “It's done.”
“What did you do?” I asked as Harlow left my side and headed toward a drawer in the kitchen.
“The box is spelled shut. “Now,” she said admiring her work, “it can only be opened with magic.”
“And you think that will keep the necklace inside of it?” I asked, trying hard not to sound doubtful as Harlow returned, pressing a lukewarm hand towel into my bloody palm. “Thank you,” I said, taking over towel holding duty with my free hand.
“It should work,” Ivy replied, watching Harlow and me carefully. “But it's not guaranteed. We won't know until Rayna is back at her house. If she finds it again, or not, in the next day or two then I guess we’ll have our answer.”
chapter fifteen
THE FINAL BELL RANG ENDING THE SCHOOL DAY AND I lazily made the walk from the gymnasium back to my locker, after an intense game of floor hockey, to collect my be-longings and head home for the weekend.
“Rayna!” Mr. Harris’ familiar voice called out, just as I slipped on my coat.
“Hi,” I replied as he approached, all-the-while hoping he hadn’t sought me out to tell me that I’d bombed this week’s test as I feared.
“When you're done here,” he began, gesturing at my locker, “I'd like to speak to you in my classroom, that is if you can spare a minute,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Can I ask what it's in regards to?”
Mr. Harris chuckled. “Oh, Rayna, you're not in any trouble if that's what you're worried about,” he paused, glancing both ways before adding in a hushed tone, “I wanted to talk to you privately about Mr. Payne.”
Harlow? My stomach knotted uncomfortably and I was pretty sure my face mirrored the feeling. “Oh!” I exclaimed, unable to mask my surprise. “Uh, sure...I'll be there in a minute.”
“All right.” Mr. Harris replied contently, amusement still colored his expression as he turned on his heel, heading back down the hallway toward his classroom.
Pulling out my cell phone, I sent Dalyn a quick text.
RAYNA: I'm going to be a little late. A teacher pulled me aside. Try to get a ride home with Lacey, or take the bus if you don't want to wait because I'm not sure how long I'll be.
DALYN: Whatever.
Switching my phone to silent, I dropped it into my purse and headed for Mr. Harris' classroom.
“Ah, Rayna, there you are!” Mr. Harris greeted me as I entered the room. “I was beginning to think you weren't going to show,” he continued, scribbling notes on an assignment he was in the middle of grading.
Standing beside his desk, I laughed weakly. “Sorry, I had to tell my sister I'd be running a little late.”
Peering up at me, he said, “Oh it's no trouble. I'm going to be here for awhile regardless.”
I nodded. “So what was it you wanted to ask me about?”
Mr. Harris pointed the red pen between his fingers at me. “Oh right!” he said as if he had forgotten why I was there in the first place. Getting up, Mr. Harris crossed the room and closed the classroom door. “I was just curious if you had any idea why Harlow hasn't been coming to school? At first, I thought he was just ditching my class—I know French is familiar to him—but it turns out, Harlow hasn't been back since school resumed. I've spoken with his other teachers and checked in with the attendance office. He hasn't officially dropped out and you two seem close...so I thought you might be able to shed some light on his situation.”
“I don't know what's going on with him.” It was the truth
. I had no idea why Harlow hadn't been coming to school anymore, although, off the top of my head, there were a few possible reasons.
“Rayna, you don't have to cover for him if that's what's happening here. He's the one in the hot seat, not you.”
“Mr. Harris, I'm not covering for Harlow,” I explained. “I really don't know where he is when he’s not in class.”
Mr. Harris stared at me like he was trying to measure my sincerity. “Did something happen between you two?” he asked bluntly. Before quickly adding “I'm sorry, that's none of my business, is it? I just hate when students with so much potential fall off the bandwagon, especially a senior who is months away from graduation. Would it be too inconvenient if I were to ask you to take some missed assignments to him?”
“I can do that,” I agreed, still distracted by his inappropriate question about my personal life.
Pulling open the bottom drawer of his desk, Mr. Harris took out a stack of papers that had been rubber banded together.
There, in the bottom of the drawer, lay a dagger. My skin prickled at the sight of it and I instinctively leaned in to get a better look. Sure enough, my fear was confirmed. Carved into the handle of the dagger was the all too familiar three moon symbol.
Mr. Harris caught me staring and slammed the drawer shut so fast that the sound startled me and I jumped back. “Here,” he said in a rough tone, thrusting the stack of papers in my direction.
“Thanks,” I managed to spit out before hastily exiting the room, allowing the door to slam shut behind me.
Despite my uncomfortable interaction with Mr. Harris lasting only a few minutes, Dalyn had managed to arrange an alternative ride home, so I was on my own. Sliding into the driver's seat, I dropped my backpack onto the passenger’s seat and gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Mr. Harris had Harlow’s family dagger. A concept I couldn’t wrap my head around. I didn’t know enough about the witches dagger to differentiate the real one from a possible fake, but I knew that symbol. If there was even the slightest possibility that Mr. Harris was somehow involved in this plot against Harlow and his pack, I had to tell them as soon as possible. The only problem was I had to find them first. I fumbled for my cell phone and hastily punched in Harlow's number. The phone on the other end of the line rang for the second time when I spotted Mr. Harris exiting the building, prompting me to hang up. I shoved the key into the ignition and drove out of the lot hoping he hadn't noticed me.
Once I’d gotten a fair distance away from the school, I tried calling Harlow again. After several rings, the line went to his voicemail. Of all the times for Harlow not to answer his phone, this was the worst. “Harlow!” I began, practically yelling into the receiver. “You better not be a wolf right now because I need to talk to you as soon as you get this! It’s about the dagger. I think I know who stole it. Please call me back as soon as you get this message!”
I jammed the end call button with my finger and dropped my phone into the cup holder. My mind raced as I drummed my thumbs against the steering wheel. If Mr. Harris had the dagger, there was a distinct possibility that he could be conspiring with the so-called Venators Dean had mentioned the last time I’d seen him. Why else would Mr. Harris need it? And why else would he have shown so much interest in Harlow’s whereabouts? It all seemed too connected to be a coincidence. Something was up with our French teacher and it couldn’t be anything good.
As I approached a stoplight, I made the snap decision to try Harlow’s house in the hope that I might find him there. And if not him, maybe Ivy, or at the very least Nick. I knew a shortcut using the back roads near the woods that would get me to Harlow’s faster, so when the light turned green, I swerved the car onto the gravel road, kicking up dust behind me as I sped toward his house.
Not more than half a mile down the road, a sudden loud bang from the front of my car, followed by the unfortunate thud-thud-thud of a flat tire, pulled me from my thoughts. “Not now!” I complained. I had the worst luck.
After guiding my car to the side of the road, I got out to investigate the damage. Sure enough, the front driver's side tire was as flat as a pancake. I frowned at it before ducking back inside the car for my phone. Fortunately, my dad had insisted on teaching me how to change a flat when I learned to drive for this exact reason.
My mom answered.
“Mom, I got a flat so I'll be home a little late.”
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
I hesitated before answering. “I'm fine...I'm on Frontage Road...”
My mom sighed on the other end of the line. “Why are you on the back roads? Nevermind, I’m sending your father to help you.”
“I know how to change a tire, Mom,” I sighed, not hiding my annoyance at her lack of faith in me.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Just be careful. Call if you need help. And if you're not home in an hour I’m sending your father.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mom.” And with that, I hung up.
With a frustrated groan, I made my way around to the trunk to haul out the spare tire, shivering as a rush of chilly January air hit me. Not a second after I had popped the trunk, something snapped from somewhere behind me and I whirled around to face the sound—right into the body of a strange man dressed in all black.
In one quick motion, the man wrapped one arm around my neck and pressed a handkerchief forcibly against my nose and mouth with his other hand. I tried to fight him off, jamming my elbow into his ribs as the scent of lavender consumed me, blurring the world around me until darkness filled my vision.
I knew something was wrong even before I opened my eyes. The chill in the air sent a shiver through me, jolting me awake. Something rocked beneath me and I threw my arms out for balance. I shuddered again, my shoulders rising to my ears automatically. Through the lingering sleepy haze, I tried to concentrate on my surroundings. The walls came into focus first. The entire room was constructed of cement—too small to be a basement. My eyes landed on a large metal door with a barred window.
Carefully, I shifted my position until my feet found the floor. I walked slowly around the dark room, one hand on the cold wall—fingers numb—until I found a light switch. I flipped it and a fluorescent light fixture buzzed overhead illuminating the grim room in pale yellow light. I squeezed my eyes shut until they adjusted and ran for the door, searching for a handle or knob, only there wasn't one.
“Help!” I screeched at the top of my lungs, kicking, clawing, and banging on the door to no avail. I couldn't see anything from the barred window except a stretch of darkness. My cell phone, I thought. Promptly, I checked the pockets of my coat before remembering the last place I had it was in my car. Hands trembling, I slid to the floor and hoped that I'd been missing long enough for someone to take notice.
I sat with my head in my lap for a long time before I heard something—Footsteps. I tiptoed toward the door and peeked my eyes just over the edge of the window, trying to make out the hushed conversation.
“I saw the way she looked at the dagger. She knows. He must have shared his secret with her! He trusts her. Enough to give her the necklace. She has the key to finishing this!”
“What are you going to do to her?”
“Whatever is necessary to seize it!”
Fidgeting on the other side of the door sent me rushing back to the cot, before whoever they were entered.
A young man, wearing a black jumpsuit with a distinct V patch on the front, entered the room and my skin prickled in recognition—Walsh. But I didn’t have time to let the weight of his presence sink in because Mr. Harris walked in right behind him.
My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him sending a chill down my spine. Despite catching him red-handed with the witches dagger, nothing could have lessened the blow of actually seeing Mr. Harris stand there as my captor. Fear coursed through me, my breaths slow and shallow as my body alerted me to the threat he posed. I clenched my fists in an
attempt to stop them from trembling.
“She’s awake, Avery,” Walsh announced. He stood there watching me for a long moment as I sat huddled on the cot.
“I can see that!” Mr. Harris hissed at his accomplice before turning his attention back to me. “Hello again, Rayna,” he greeted me politely. “How are you feeling? Ready to talk?”
“W-where am I?” I stammered.
His eyes danced around the space. “I’m borrowing it. A friend owes me a favor, so here we are. It’s only temporary,” he commented, twirling something metallic between his hands. “You know something about this, don't you?” he assumed instantly. When he stopped twirling the object, I realized what he was holding—the witches dagger.
Keep it together, I tried to coax myself—even though my stomach felt like it was full of rocks. “No,” I replied, swallowing hard.
Mr. Harris' hands fell to his sides. “Whatever you know, Rayna, you can tell me.”
My heart continued to race in my chest. “I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say,” I lied as best I could.
A dark smile stretched across Mr. Harris' face. “You're a terrible liar, Ms. Pierce. As soon as I get what I want, I’ll let you go…” he trailed off in a friendly yet threatening tone. “It’s that simple.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Mr. Harris,” I retorted. “I told you before, I don’t know where Harlow is.”
“Oh, Rayna. The ‘Mr.’ is just so… formal. Why don’t you call me—” he paused, “Harris.” A devious smirk stretched across his face. “And I find it hard to believe that you don’t know where your boyfriend is. Nevertheless, Harlow’s whereabouts are the least of my worries right now,” he argued, folding his arms in front of his chest. After a brief pause, he continued, “Maybe you’re just being difficult because you’re hungry. It’s late and you’ve been out for awhile.” Mr. Harris—no, Harris—pivoted to face his accomplice. “Get the tray.”
Iron Moon Page 17
