by Rachel Lou
Everett closed his eyes and breathed, wishing he could suck in the warmth through his mouth and hold it in his stomach, where it would warm him from the chill he was still swimming in.
“Hey, right here. Look at me. Don’t go out again.”
Bryce wasn’t human—couldn’t be—but his touch was warm, callused, fleshy.
He put his hand over Bryce’s, lining their fingers. He felt the thick knuckle scabs, the folded skin over each finger joint, and the dip of skin into nail.
“I’m okay,” Everett said. “I’m okay.”
He sat against the counter, Bryce sitting next to him with too much concern in his eyes. Everett didn’t have the strength to stay upright without the counter against his back.
“Do you have a condition?”
Nobody had ever asked him about health issues, and he had never passed out as frequently as he had in the past two weeks. He had always been good at keeping himself awake and on his feet.
“Dehydration and sleep deprivation, mostly.” Everett sucked his breaths in, drawing them over several seconds and expelling them with an extra second or two. He had been taught to breathe like this in case he ever felt light-headed without anyone nearby, assuming he would ever have a reason to cast heavy spells without supervision.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
Everett tilted his head in a slight nod. “I’m fine.”
When Everett was well enough to stand, Bryce guided him to the living room couch and attended him until he convinced Bryce he was well enough to care for himself.
Chapter 16
SOMETHING HOLLOW smacked against Everett’s window.
He snapped out of his nap with a gasp.
He had dreamed of a black mist that surrounded his head in a halo of nothingness. There was something beyond the mist, but the persistent tapping on his window distracted him from the fading memory of the dream.
A dull strip of sunlight peeked from the curtain. The sun was setting, and Everett had been asleep for three hours.
He lifted a curtain flap, and Buzz angrily waved two tentacles. Everett had the sense Buzz had been outside for a substantial amount of time.
Buzz squeezed in the tiny gap before Everett opened the window all the way.
“Thanks for abandoning me,” Everett said.
Buzz gave him a hard, disapproving look with his eyelid half-shut over his eye.
Bryce had been iffy about leaving Everett alone, but was convinced to leave before Everett’s grandfather came home. He had made Everett promise to keep drinking water, stay away from sharp objects, and keep his phone within reach. Every ten minutes for the first hour after Bryce left, Everett had to send a text confirming his awareness. After the first hour, Bryce had left Everett alone to take a nap.
Buzz perched on top of Everett’s desk, his single eye hidden in his cap.
“His father says witches are dangerous, and he doesn’t let Bryce read witchtales. He told Bryce to stay away from anyone who believes in them, but I can’t tell if it’s because the danger is real or if it’s simple antiwitch beliefs.”
Buzz sat on the desk like a paperweight, his tentacles tucked in his cap.
“His father is friends with Mr. Jenkin, who is the father of my friend.” Everett closed the window and drew the curtains shut. The curtain hooks scraped the rod with an ugly sound.
“Bryce isn’t human. Is that why you screamed? Because you knew?” Everett frowned at the silent jellyfish. “Are you listening?”
Two slits appeared on Buzz’s cap. The lips quivered, slimy with something akin to mucus.
“Buzz, what are you doing?” Everett approached Buzz, tiptoeing.
The slits flared open, baring gooey insides.
A stench burned Everett’s nostrils.
He swatted the air in front of his nose.
The slits fluttered and goop spilled out.
Everett backed up until his thighs hit his mattress.
The goop, which resembled mushy clumps of Buzz’s translucent flesh, piled on the desk. The two strips of goop rolled into globes the same size as Buzz.
The globes rolled to the edges of the desk where they flattened into hemispheres. Tentacles popped out of the flat bottoms and the jellyfish clones took to the air.
Buzz produced more clones until he had a squad of eight. They were the same jellyfish that had pulled Everett out of his seat in the dojang and into the back lot.
It was easy to tell Buzz from the others because his color was darker, and his presence received the most attention, like he was the king and the other jellyfish were minions.
Everett leaned back as the jellyfish approached him. “Buzz? Can you explain this?”
The jellyfish swam around Everett’s head in a merry-go-round of bobbing bodies. The circle broke into a line with Buzz in the lead. The line went out the door. Everett followed them to the front door.
“You want me to follow you outside? But I’m not dressed.”
Buzz vibrated and the rest copied him.
“Can I change?”
Nine jellyfish eyes glared at Everett.
Everett grabbed his messenger bag and keys.
THE JELLYFISH line led him to the dojang. He parked along the sidewalk and stayed in his car. The jellyfish stayed with him, sitting on the dashboard like toys.
The blinds were open. Through the strips, Everett saw Bryce and Melinda run through choreographed technique forms. They were focused on their work and didn’t notice Everett pull in.
Buzz jabbed a tentacle at the dojang. After a second’s delay, the jellyfish clones pointed in the same direction.
It didn’t take Everett long to realize the jellyfish clones were mindless bodies that Buzz commanded.
“The dojang?” Everett said.
Buzz and the clones made Xs with their tentacles.
“Bryce?”
The jellyfish puffed and deflated their caps.
“What about him?”
Buzz sat on the side pocket of Everett’s messenger bag.
Everett took his salt out. “What kind of spell? Aura strip?”
The clones puffed their caps.
“I don’t know if I’ll have the energy.” But he did it. Something about the clones’ presence told him he didn’t have to worry.
He focused on Bryce, who was doing a series of knife-hand attacks as he stood in a firm stance, his front leg bent and his back leg straight.
Strip the aura.
Nothing happened that called for attention.
Buzz deflated and the air that rushed out his body sounded like a sigh.
The clones circled Everett’s head. A line of neon pink zapped between their bodies, encasing his head in a fence of glowing energy.
“Is this supposed to help?”
Buzz tapped the salt bag.
Everett cast the spell again.
This time, Bryce’s skin faded to gray, and Everett felt no loss of energy; the clones were replacing the energy he used.
The blinds obstructed Everett’s view, but he could see dark, scaly flesh and—
His thoughts shattered like glass.
His vision flashed blue, then white, as if the colors had hit him in the face.
Pain blossomed in his mind and expanded to trap his head in a cage.
His thoughts combusted.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
He clutched his head and bowed his forehead to the steering wheel. The jellyfish attached to his head and neck and thrummed a musical vibration that chased the pain away. The cage loosened, and he imagined dipping his head out of it. The pain stopped and cold comfort washed over him. He slouched against his seat and touched his forehead. Sweat and goop stuck to his fingers.
Buzz and the jellyfish lined up on the dashboard. They were still as Everett scraped the transparent goop off his forehead. Some of it stuck his hair to his face.
It was like glue, like ectoplasm.
Buzz tapped the dashboard until Everett looked. Buzz pointed at the pa
ssenger window.
Melinda stood on the sidewalk, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched together. She knocked on the window.
Everett rolled down the window. “Hi.” He waved and the ectoplasm dripped down his fingers and made webs between his fingers.
There wasn’t a standard way to greet someone when your hands and face were covered with paranormal fluids, because witches weren’t supposed to produce ectoplasm. Ectoplasm was a myth.
“Do your drugs elsewhere. We don’t tolerate loitering,” Melinda snapped, eyeing the ectoplasm with disgust.
“I’m not—It’s supposed to be water. I grabbed the wrong bottle.”
Buzz and the jellyfish bounced their caps in laughter.
Melinda nodded. “Right…. What did you add to make it clump like that?”
“I don’t know any drug that does this.” Everett squeezed the goop off his fingers. “Do you?”
Her eyes burned through him like lasers. “Do you think I know?”
“Me neither, so you have to believe me when I say I’m not doing drugs. I thought I was getting a sip of water.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So you poured it on your face?”
Bryce came out of the dojang, his tank soaked with sweat. “Hey, Melinda, what’re you—oh hey, Everett!”
Everett rolled his window down and flicked the goop off his hand. He scraped as much as he could off his face and flung it outside. It made a squelch as it hit the ground.
Bryce stood next to Melinda and eyeballed the ectoplasm. “Is that… gel on your face?”
Everett tucked his hair behind his ears and attempted to look dignified. “I thought it was water, but I was wrong.”
“Where’s the bottle?” Melinda asked. Everett didn’t think he would ever get along with her.
Everett hesitated before he fruitlessly searched the car’s front cabin. “It must have rolled elsewhere while I drove.”
Melinda gave Bryce’s reaction a once-over and then raised an eyebrow as if to ask Bryce something.
Bryce elbowed her arm. “Don’t be rude.”
“I should probably go.” Everett started the car and the jellyfish filed out of the open window.
“Why did you come here?” Melinda said.
“I was just taking a night drive. I pulled over for a drink. It didn’t go well.” Everett chuckled, and when Melinda’s glare remained, he shut his mouth.
“You could wash up here. We don’t have a shower, but you could take a sponge bath.” Bryce cast a hopeful look at Melinda, who was walking back to the dojang. “Melinda, will Antonio mind giving up a sponge to Everett?”
“Yes.” She opened the door and the jellyfish darted in. One of the jellyfish didn’t make it inside before the door closed. It floated around the building front, a mindless drone.
“Oh, well you can still use it,” Bryce said, leaning on the windowsill.
“It’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll wash up at home.”
“You sure? It looks pretty gross in there.” Bryce’s gaze traveled around the car interior. He circled the car, looking through every window.
“Are you searching my car?” Everett laughed.
“Drugs are bad. Stay away.” Bryce smiled loosely, walking around the front of Everett’s car and running his finger along its hood as he passed. “Night drives waste gas. What are you really doing here?” Despite his friendly tone, Everett heard what he said as a threat.
“I felt like I had to.” Everett glanced at the jellyfish floating around the dojang, pausing every few seconds to hover in place before continuing on. “I wanted to see you.”
Bryce leaned on the open window frame. “Sounds fun. Text me later? We can schedule another time.”
Everett nodded too eagerly and a clump of sticky hair fell in front of his face.
“Have fun getting that washed out.” Bryce saluted Everett with two fingers to his forehead.
“And you have fun sweating it out.”
Bryce laughed, winked, and joined Melinda in the dojang.
Everett rolled the windows up and swore, running a hand through his hair and covering it with ectoplasm.
Chapter 17
THE ECTOPLASM washed off his skin and hair with shampoo; the embarrassment at having been caught in front of the dojang by Bryce and Melinda wouldn’t wash off for days.
Bryce would probably bring it up at their next lesson, which Everett was considering putting off until the end of the week.
Buzz and his clones didn’t return until an hour after the dojang closed. They came through Everett’s window, the clones a very faint shade of pink. Everett supposed the clones would last until they faded, or until Buzz smothered them out of existence.
They pulled Everett out of his computer seat, tentacles wrapped around his arms, and led him to the dining room. Buzz made Everett bring out the salt and pour a two-fist-sized pile on the table.
The clones sat on the perimeter of the table. A string of energy connected their caps, forming a single-wired fence of light. Buzz floated above them and eyed the pile. Eight strings of salt spilled from the pile and connected to a tentacle from each clone. The strings were a grain wide, and a streak of pink energy highlighted them. The salt pile glowed with a faint light that could have been Everett’s imagination and then rose to form a miniature human figure that vaguely resembled Bryce.
Buzz pointed at the salt bag, and Everett poured more in the circle. The miniature Bryce sucked the salt in and enlarged into a foot-tall figure.
Everett had never created anything so intricate. Without the support of the jellyfish, he surely would have passed out. The details of Bryce’s face were sharp, and there was no mistaking the sweats and tank he wore. It was the same outfit Bryce had worn that night.
Then Bryce moved. He scratched his head, laughed, and fooled with the hem of his tank. He shook his head, and Everett mistook it for a casual hair flip. Bryce’s face twisted, his hair lengthened, his nails grew and—
The jellyfish clones began to drift toward the ceiling one at a time, fading as they ascended.
Salt poured off Bryce’s figure as he fell to his knees, fingers clawing his face. Everett couldn’t tell if it was part of the original projection, or if the doll was simply collapsing on itself.
The last of the clones disappeared, and Bryce collapsed into a pile of salt.
Buzz screeched and kicked at the pile with a tentacle.
“Did that happen today? Did you see that?” Everett asked.
Buzz pointed at himself and twisted his cap.
“Not you?”
Buzz pointed at the places where the clones had stood.
“They did?”
Buzz stood on the table and held two tentacles out like human arms. They clutched at his cap, and he fell on his other tentacles, as if were recreating the Bryce projection. He rolled around the table, like a roll of pink painter’s tape. He leapt upright and opened his eye, narrowed with a tiny pupil. Like a drunkard, he stumbled across the table and fell off the edge.
“Bryce isn’t human and he’s in pain?” Everett asked.
Buzz nuzzled Everett’s cheek.
“Is this pain from a transformation?”
Buzz continued to nuzzle.
“If we go to the dojang now, we’ll be able to see the residue!” Everett went to scrape the salt into the bag.
Buzz shrieked and slapped Everett’s nose.
Everett rubbed his ears as the shriek echoed over his thoughts.
Buzz made a sloppy noose out of a little salt. He pointed at Everett and then the noose.
“Is Bryce still in there? What about Melinda?”
Buzz shrugged, then pointed more vehemently at the noose.
“I’ll get hanged?”
Buzz threw his tentacles in the air and gave up. He kicked the noose out of shape. Salt grains poofed in the air.
“It’s dangerous, I know, but we won’t learn anything if we play it safe. Does Bryce have control of himself when he’s t
ransformed or is he a raving… whatever he is?”
Buzz slapped Everett’s nose and then made an X with his front tentacles and shoved it in Everett’s face.
“If you don’t help me, I’ll investigate by myself.”
Everett filled his bag with the salt and swept the fallen grains into a dustpan.
The front door opened and his grandfather came in. His face brightened as he took in the neat stack of boxes. “You packed all this already?”
“It wasn’t much trouble.” Everett went down the hall to put the salt in his room and almost tripped over his pajama pants when he saw Mr. Pendley closing the front door.
He hugged the salt to his chest. “Mr. Pendley! What brings you here?”
Mr. Pendley tugged down the lapels of his suit. “News from the Order.”
Everett’s grandfather smiled, but it failed to disguise his worry. Everett could see it as plainly as the wrinkles on his grandfather’s face.
“Bad news?”
“Omar was taken by force. The interior of his house is trashed and suggests an illegal use of bridging.” Mr. Pendley said this methodically, with an air of practice that suggested he had gone about as a messenger of this news.
“Is there any connection to me?” Everett asked.
Tense silence blanketed the house. Mr. Pendley looked at the wall clock. The minute hand ticked slower and louder.
Regardless of what Buzz warned, something had to be done.
“This case is Black. Have I taught you what that means?” his grandfather said.
“It’s a priority filing,” Everett said, his blood rushing somewhere in his body he couldn’t feel.
“Not in these days,” Mr. Pendley said, his eyes still on the clock. “Black now describes cases taken by the Order’s investigation team. The last time the team was assembled was in the seventies, when traitorous Bridge Masters used their powers to enslave the dead.”
“And this is connected to me?”
Mr. Pendley blinked for a long second, and when he opened his eyes they were on Everett. “What does your gut tell you?”
His gut said this was all his fault. His grandfather didn’t need any of this stress.
