Dark Visions

by L. J. Smith

  "I know. I went to private school once," Lewis said. Lydia changed the subject abruptly.

  "Do you always take duffel bags when you go hiking?"

  "Yes," Gabriel said. He seemed to be able to handle Lydia best. "We use them like backpacks," he said, seeming amused.

  "Isn't that a little awkward?"

  Gabriel didn't answer. Lewis just smiled engagingly.

  There was another minute or so of fidgeting from Lydia, and then she burst out, "You're running away, aren't you? You don't really live around here at all. You're hitchhiking across the country or something—aren't you?"

  Don't tell her anything, Gabriel thought to Lewis, just as Lydia said, "You don't have to tell me. I don't care. But I wish I could have an adventure sometime. I'm so tired of private riding clubs and country clubs and Key Clubs and the Assistance League." She was silent for a moment and then added, "I'll drive you to Suquamish if you'll tell me the way. I don't care how far it is."

  Kaitlyn didn't know what to make of the girl. She was a strange, excitable creature—that was certain.

  And she felt left out, an outsider looking in on the five of them.

  Kaitlyn remembered how that felt—being outside. Back in Ohio she had been outside everything. She'd been too different; her blue-ringed eyes had been too strange, her psychic drawings had been too spooky. No one at her old high school had wanted to consort with the local witch.

  But she still wasn't sure about Lydia—and she didn't like the way Lydia pushed so hard to get in.

  Don't tell her anything, she advised Lewis, echoing Gabriel's opinion. After a moment Lewis lifted his shoulders in acquiescence.

  "We'd be grateful if you'd take us to Suquamish," Rob said gently, and then they all shut up and listened to the radio.

  "Turn here," Anna said. "It's just down this street—there, that house with the Oldsmobile in front of it."

  It was twilight, but Kaitlyn could see that the house was the same red-brown color as Anna's cedar basket. It must be made of cedar, she realized. The spruce and alder trees around it were becoming mere towering shapes as dark fell.

  "We're here," Anna said softly.

  A house, Kaitlyn thought. A real house with parents in it, adults who would help take care of them. For the moment it was all Kait wanted. She stretched her stiff, clammy legs and watched Gabriel reach for the door handle.

  Lydia blurted, "I guess you weren't running away. I didn't know you really had somewhere to go. Sorry."

  "It doesn't matter. Thanks for the ride," Rob said.

  Lydia hunched her shoulders. "Sure," she said. It was the voice of someone who hasn't been invited to a party. Then she said in subdued tones, "Could I use your bathroom?"

  "Oh—sure," Anna said. "Hang on, I'd better go inside first." Mom isn't going to be expecting us, she added silently.

  Moving quickly and lightly, Anna ran up to the house. The others waited in the car, looking through steam-clouded windows. After a few minutes Anna came back, leading a short, motherly woman who looked bewildered but humorously resigned. Kait thought suddenly that she knew where Anna got her serenity.

  "Come inside, all of you," the woman said. "I'm Mrs. Whiteraven, Anna's mother. Oh, my goodness, you're wet and half-frozen. Come in!"

  They went in, and Lydia went with them.

  Inside, Kaitlyn got a quick impression of a crowded, comfortable living room and two identical boys who looked about nine or ten. Then Anna's mother was hustling them into the back of the house, running hot baths and gathering clean clothes.

  "You boys will just have to wear some of my husband's things," she said. "They'll be big, but they'll have to do."

  Some time later Kaitlyn found herself warm and faintly damp from a bath, dressed in Anna's clothes and sitting in front of the fireplace.

  "Your mother's nice," she whispered to Anna. "Isn't she a little surprised to have us turn up like this? Did she ask you any questions?"

  Not yet. She's more interested in feeding us and getting us warm. But I know one thing— she hasn't heard anything from the Institute. She thought I was still at school.

  They had to stop talking then because Anna's little brothers came in and started asking her about California. Anna managed to tell them about it without mentioning Mr. Zetes or the Institute.

  Mrs. Whiteraven bustled back in. "Anna, your other friend was just waiting in the hall. I sent her to wash up. We'll have dinner in a few minutes, as soon as the boys are ready."

  "But she isn't—" Anna began. She broke off as Lydia walked into the room, looking small and almost pathetic. It would be too rude to say "she isn't my friend" when Mrs. Whiteraven had just invited her to dinner.

  After all, she did give us a ride, Anna said to Kaitlyn, who shrugged.

  Rob, Gabriel, and Lewis appeared wearing billowing flannel shirts and jeans tightly belted to keep them on. Kaitlyn and Anna nobly refrained from giggling, but Lydia grinned. Lewis grinned back at her, unabashed. They sat down with Anna's mother and father at the table.

  Dinner was hamburgers and smoked salmon, corn and broccoli and salad, with berry pie for dessert and Thomas Kemper's Old Fashioned Birch Soda to wash it down. Kaitlyn had never been so happy to see vegetables. All five of them from the Institute dug in with an enthusiasm that made Mrs. Whiteraven's eyes widen, but she didn't ask any questions until they'd finished eating.

  Then she wiped her hands on a dish towel, pushed her chair back, and said, "Now, suppose you kids explain what you're doing in Washington?"

  CHAPTER 11

  Kaitlyn looked from Anna's mother to Anna's father, a grave man with steady eyes who'd scarcely spoken during dinner. The kitchen was warm and quiet. Yellow light shone from the overhead lamp onto unfinished pine cupboards.

  Then Kaitlyn looked at Rob. They were all looking at one another, all five who shared the web.

  Should we? Anna asked.

  Yes, Kaitlyn thought back, feeling agreement from the others. But only your parents. Not…

  Anna waved a hand at her twin brothers. "You guys go play, okay? And…" She glanced at Lydia and faltered. Kaitlyn knew the problem; Anna was gentle by nature, and it was difficult to say "get out" to a guest who'd just eaten at the same table.

  You're too soft-hearted, she thought, but Gabriel was already speaking.

  "Maybe Lydia and I could take a walk outside," he said. "It's stopped raining now." Standing, he looked every inch the gallant gentleman—if you didn't count the mocking glint in his eyes. He extended his hand to Lydia courteously.

  There wasn't much Lydia could do. She went rather pale, so that her three freckles stood out more prominently. Then she thanked Anna's parents and took Gabriel's hand. Lewis gave her a hurt look.

  Be careful, Kaitlyn thought to Gabriel as he and Lydia walked out.

  Of what? Psychic attacks— or her? he sent back, amused.

  Anna's brothers went, too. And then there was no further excuse for delay. With one final look at her mind-mates, Anna took a deep breath and began telling her parents the whole story.

  Almost the whole story. She left out some of the more gruesome bits and didn't mention the mind-link at all. But she told about Marisol, and the crystal that enhanced psychic power, and Mr. Zetes's plans for making his students into a psychic strike team. Rob went and got the files he'd taken from the hidden room.

  "And we've been having these dreams," Anna said. "About a little peninsula with gray water all around it, and across from it is a cliff with trees and a white house. And we think that the people in the house might be sending us the dreams, trying to help us." She told about Kaitlyn's two encounters with the caramel-skinned man who came from the white house.

  "He didn't seem to like the Institute," Kait put in.

  "And he showed me a picture of a garden with a huge crystal in it—like Mr. Z's crystal. We figure that maybe they know about these things."

  Mrs. Whiteraven frowned. Her black eyes had been snapping and flashing throughout Anna's story, e
specially when Anna told about Mr. Z's plans. Mr. Whiteraven had merely gotten more and more grave-looking, one of his hands slowly clenching into a fist. Like Tony, they seemed to have no trouble accepting the reality of what Anna was saying.

  Now Anna's mother spoke. "But—you're saying you set out for this white house without any idea where it is?"

  "We have some idea," Anna said. "It's north. And we'll know it when we see it—the peninsula is lined with these strange rock piles. I keep thinking they're familiar somehow. They look like this." She got a pencil and began drawing on the back of one of the file folders. "No—Kait, you're the artist. Draw one."

  Kaitlyn did her best, sketching one of the tall, irregular rock stacks. It came out looking a bit like a stone snowman with outspread arms.

  "Oh, it's an inuk shuk," Mrs. Whiteraven said.

  Kaitlyn's head jerked up. "You recognize it?"

  Anna's mother turned the paper, studying it. "Yes—I'm sure it's an inuk shuk. The Inuit used them for signals, you know, to show that a certain place was friendly or that visitors were welcome—"

  "The Inuit?" Anna interrupted, choking. "You mean we have to go to Alaska?"

  Her mother waved a hand, brow puckering. "I'm sure I've seen some of these much closer… I know! It was somewhere on Vancouver Island. We took a trip there when you were about five or six. Yes, and I'm sure we saw them there."

  Everyone began talking at once.

  "Vancouver Island—that's Canada—" Rob said.

  "Yes, but it's not far—there's a ferry," Anna said. "No wonder those things were familiar—"

  "I've never been to Canada," said Lewis.

  "But do you remember exactly where they were?" Kaitlyn was asking Mrs. Whiteraven.

  "No, dear, I'm afraid not. It was a long time ago." Anna's mother chewed her lip gently, frowning at the picture. Then she sighed and shook her head.

  "It doesn't matter," Rob said. His eyes were alight with excitement. "At least we know the general area.

  And somebody on the island has got to know where they are. We'll just keep asking."

  Anna's mother put the paper down. "Now, just a minute," she said. She and her husband exchanged a glance.

  Kaitlyn, looking from one of them to the other, had a sudden sinking feeling.

  "Now," Mrs. Whiteraven said, turning away from her husband. "You kids have been very brave and resourceful so far. But this idea about finding the white house—it's not practical. This isn't a problem for children."

  "No," said Mr. Whiteraven. He'd been looking through the files Rob had brought. "It's a problem for the authorities. There's enough proof here to get your Mr. Zetes put away for a long time."

  "But you don't understand how powerful he is," Anna said. "He's got friends everywhere. And Marisol's brother said that only magic could fight magic—"

  "I hardly think Marisol's brother is an expert," her mother said tartly. "You should have gone to your parents in the first place. And that reminds me, you have to call your parents, now—all of you."

  Kait hardened herself. "We can't tell them anything that would make them feel better. And if Mr. Zetes has some way of tapping the call—well, he'd know exactly where we are."

  "If he doesn't already," Anna said softly.

  "But…" Mrs. Whiteraven sighed and exchanged another look with her husband. "All right, I'll call them in the morning. I don't need to tell them exactly where you are until we get this thing straightened out."

  "Straightened out how, ma'am?" Rob asked. His eyes had darkened.

  "We'll talk to the elders, then to the police," Anna's mother said firmly. "That's the right thing to do."

  Anna opened her mouth, then shut it again. It's no good, she told the others helplessly.

  No. It isn't, Rob agreed.

  Lewis said, Jeeeez. I guess we should be relieved, but—

  Kaitlyn knew what he meant. Adults were in the picture now, taking charge, handling things. The authorities were going to be told. The five of them didn't have to worry anymore. She should have been happy.

  So why did her chest feel so tight?

  Two thoughts jostled in her brain. One was: After we got so far…

  The other was: The adults don't know Mr. Z.

  "Now we'll have to find places for you to sleep," Anna's mother was saying briskly. "You two boys can have the twins' room, and I'll put your friend Gabriel on the couch. Then Anna can share her room with you, Kait, and Lydia can go in the guest room—"

  " Lydia's not sleeping here," Kaitlyn blurted, before thinking about how rude this sounded. "She's not one of us; she just gave us a ride."

  Mrs. Whiteraven looked surprised. "Well, you can't expect her to drive all the way home now. It's too late, and she told me before dinner that she was tired. I've already invited her to stay overnight."

  Kaitlyn started to groan, then realized that Rob and Anna and especially Lewis were looking at her reproachfully. In the web she could feel their bewilderment—they didn't understand what she had against Lydia.

  Oh, well, what difference did it make anyway? Kait shrugged and bent her head.

  Gabriel and Lydia came strolling through the door a few minutes later. Lydia didn't look particularly disappointed to have missed the kitchen conference. She kept glancing up at Gabriel through her lashes—a stratagem that seemed to amuse Gabriel and annoy Lewis. Kait and Anna left Rob to fill Gabriel in on what had happened while they helped make up the guest room bed.

  So the quest is over? Gabriel asked. Kaitlyn could hear him perfectly even though he was in the kitchen and she was giving a final punch to Lydia's pillow.

  We'll talk about it tomorrow, she told him grimly. She was tired.

  And she was worried about Gabriel. Again. Still. She could tell that he was in pain—she could feel the tension shimmering under his surface. But somehow she didn't think he was going to let her help tonight.

  He didn't. He wouldn't talk about it, either, not even when she managed to sneak a moment alone with him while the others were getting ready for bed.

  "But what are you going to do?" She had dreadful visions of him sneaking into Anna's parents' room, too crazed to know what he was doing.

  "Nothing," he said shortly, and then, with icy fury, "I'm a guest here."

  So he'd caught her vision. And he had his own code of honor. But that didn't mean he could hold out all night…

  He was already walking away.

  Kaitlyn climbed into Anna's double bed feeling uneasy and discouraged.

  It was just dawn when she woke. She found herself staring at the luminous green numbers on Anna's clock radio, a knot twisting in her stomach. She could sense the others sleeping—even Gabriel. He was so restless that she could tell he hadn't been out anywhere.

  Strangely, of all the things she had to worry about, the one bothering her was Lydia.

  Forget Lydia, she told herself. But her mind kept spinning out the same questions. Who was Lydia, and why was she so eager to be with them? What was wrong with the girl? And why did Kait keep feeling she wasn't to be trusted?

  There should be some way to tell, Kait thought. Some test or something…

  Kait sat up.

  Then, quickly but as stealthily as possible, she slid out of bed and picked up her duffel bag. She took the bag into the bathroom and locked the door.

  With the light on she fished through the bag until she found her art kit. The sealed Tupperware had survived the creek, and her pastels and erasers were safe. The sketchpad was damp, though.

  Oh, well. Oil pastels didn't mind the damp. Kaitlyn picked up a black pastel stick, held it poised over the blank page, and shut her eyes.

  She'd never done this before; trying to make a picture come when she didn't already feel the need to draw. Now she made use of some of Joyce's techniques, deliberately relaxing and shutting out the world.

  Clear your mind. Now think of Lydia. Think of drawing Lydia… Let the picture come…

  Black lines radiating downward. Kai
tlyn saw the image and let her hand transfer it to the paper. Now some black grape mixed in. Blue for highlights—it was Lydia's hair. Then pale fleshtones for Lydia's face and celadon green for Lydia's eyes.

  But she felt she needed the black again. Heavy strokes of black, lots of them, above and around Lydia's portrait, forming a silhouette that seemed to be cradling Lydia, encompassing her.

  Kaitlyn's eyes opened all the way, and she stared at the drawing. That broad-shouldered silhouette with body lines that swept straight down like a man in a coat…

  In one furious motion she was on her feet.

  I'll kill her. Oh, my God, I'm going to kill her…

  She jerked open the bathroom door and headed for the guest room.

  Lydia was a slender shape under the covers. Kait turned her over and grabbed her by the throat.

  Lydia made a noise like Georgie Mouse. Her eyes showed white in the darkness.

  "You nasty, spying, sneaking little weasel," Kait said and shook her a few times. She spoke softly, so as not to wake Anna's parents, and put most of her energy into the shaking.

  Lydia made more noises. Kaitlyn thought she was trying to say, "What are you talking about?"

  "I'll tell you what I'm talking about," she said, punctuating each word with a shake. Lydia was gripping her wrists with both hands, but was too weak to break Kait's hold. "You're working for Mr. Zetes, you little worm."

  Squeaking feebly, Lydia tried to shake her head.

  "Yes, you are! I know it. I'm psychic, remember?"

  As Kaitlyn finished speaking, she sensed activity behind her. It was her mind-mates, crowding in the doorway. So much emotion, so close, had gotten through to all of them even in their sleep.

  "Hey! What are you doing?" Lewis was saying in alarm, and Rob said, "Kait, what's happening? You woke everybody up…"

  Kaitlyn barely turned. "She's a spy!"

  "What?" Charming in too-big pajamas, Rob came to stand beside the bed. When he saw Kaitlyn's grip on Lydia's throat, he reached instinctively. Lewis was right behind him.

  "Don't, you guys. She's a spy—aren't you?" Kaitlyn tried to bang Lydia's head against the headboard, but didn't have enough leverage.