I arched my eyebrows because Twyla was taking on a massive risk by offering to hide the tablet. It meant that she was opening herself up to whatever shadowy conspiracy existed within the world of witches, but I didn’t really have a choice. The tablet would be safer with Twyla and her grandfather’s magic than it could ever be with me.
I took a deep breath and handed her the satchel. “Here, take it,” I said firmly. “I don’t want to know where you hide it because it could lead back to you. It’s enough that you’re putting your life on the line by offering.”
She carefully slipped the satchel inside her backpack and zipped it shut. “Now what do we do?” she said as she slung the backpack over her shoulder.
I gazed out at the water crashing over the weir, the same weir where Marcus Guffman broke his back and where a Great Dane possessed by an immortal spirit saved his life. Somewhere out there was Betty Priddy and I wondered if I would ever see her again.
A gust of wind blew off the rushing water of the Bow River as Twyla Standingready and I headed back up the path toward the bird sanctuary.
We had the first piece of the Book of Names in our hands and I’d learned a dark secret about why my father was killed. Someone inside the Wheatland Coven of White Witches had ordered the hit and I was going to make damned sure I’d find out who it was.
God help them.
JULIE’S GRIMOIRE
JANUARY 1st.
Happy freaking New Year.
My boyfriend just dumped me and someone inside my mother’s coven had my father killed. Scratch that. I guess that it’s my coven now seeing as how Mom has been elected the new Blessed Maven. I actually think she’s only slightly less cranky than before all the shit hit the fan at the Bow River Weir.
Today is Monday and tonight we’re to have a celebration at Coven House. I’m to be formally presented before the witches and their families and it looks like I’m going to take part in Celebration of the Call. Go me, big whoop.
I haven’t slept right since the night of the battle against Adriel. I wake up in a cold sweat at exactly two o’clock in the morning after experiencing the same dream over and over again. In it I can see Marcus as he falls into the weir. He sinks to the bottom, completely comatose because he’s still infected with Soul Worms, so I dive in after him but the current is too strong and I can’t reach him no matter how hard I try. Then my dream shifts to the place on riverbank where Betty dragged him. Marcus is propped up on his elbows and his cold, accusing eyes bore into me like a dentist’s drill. He opens his mouth and says the same thing night after night: “You did this to me.”
And that’s when I wake up drenched in sweat.
But he said that he’d had a vision where he dies and I’m the one who kills him. That’s why he broke it off – he’s terrified that I’m some kind of psycho witch waiting to happen. And I would never hurt him. Ever. I love Marcus with all my heart and I need to know what he saw… I need to find out who killed my father.
So, naturally, there’s something I can do about it that Mom would most certainly disapprove of. Someone inside the coven is responsible for my father’s death and is in possession of one third of the Book of Names. I need to find out who it is and that means that I’m going to put on my wings and become the perfect little social butterfly. I’m going to inject myself into the lives of every witch in the Wheatland coven in order to expose Dad’s killer.
But that’s for another day. Tomorrow is Tuesday and life is going to swing back to normal now that the silly season is over. The Deerfoot Trail will be bumper-to-bumper with traffic. The shops will open once again and the stores will be filled with people returning gifts they received on Christmas Day.
Mom and I didn’t celebrate Christmas this year. We shared a quiet meal and exchanged gifts over a cup of tea with It’s a Wonderful Life on the TV. She got me a new phone and I promised not to destroy this one. I bought Mom a new pair of earrings and some combs for her long red hair which, of course, I will borrow as I do with basically all her stuff.
Classes start again in the morning, but I’m going to skip school. I really don’t feel like going if Marcus isn’t going to be there (and he won’t be back in school for at least another month). I’m going to kiss my mother as I head out the door into the cold and I’m going to march through yet another snowfall down to the Southland C-Train station. I’m going to hop on the downtown train and head up the Stephen Avenue Mall past the bums who are always in your face for a few spare quarters. I’m going to keep on walking until I walk straight through the gilded doors of Banker’s Hall.
I swore that I’d never find myself in debt to Holly Penske ever again, but things change in life. I need a glimpse into the future. I need to know what Marcus was talking about when he said that he saw his own death and that it was at my hands.
I need answers.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is my fifth book, and I think it was the hardest to write not because of the serious nature of some of the subject matter, but because it's a second book in a series. When POLTERGEEKS popped into my head, I was creating a world from nothing at all. What I've discovered yet again is how much of a challenge second books in a series can be! There's the sticky business of continuity looming large with every keystroke into my word processor. Your protagonist's voice has to be consistent with that of the first book. Very simply, the second time up to bat is a lot harder than the first time.
The good news is that I've had exceptional guidance throughout this project.
To my better half, Cheryl - thank you for listening me rant and rave and smack my head against the desk as I fought with certain plot twists in this book. Thank you for not kicking me out whilst I ranted, raved and smacked my head against the desk.
To my editor Amanda Rutter - thanks for all your hard work. This book is amazingly “plop” free - no small accomplishment without you there to kick me in the behind.
To my literary agent and friend Jenny Savill at Andrew Nurnberg Associates in London - thanks so much for all that you do. I told you last October that you were stuck with me - so here we are on our second book! Go us! Onward and upward!
To all the bloggers out there who loved book one, I hope book two blew you out of your boots. Thanks to Kaylie Ashton, Sharon Stogner & Laura Heath who are three very awesome people. Thanks to T L Costa for her kick-butt insights and finally to my virtual bourbon drinking buddy, A E Rought who is the world's best idea bouncer-offer.
A huge thumbs-up to Paul Young for the stunning cover art, and finally, thank you to Keren David and Sharon Jones for their lovely endorsements.
I'll close off by saying hello to my hometown of Calgary. I look forward to wreaking havoc on your streets in a book I wrote very soon.
STRANGE CHEMISTRY
An Angry Robot imprintand a member of Osprey Group Lace Market House
54-56 High Pavement
Nottingham NG1 1HW
UK
Angry Robot/Osprey Publishing
PO BoxNew York
NY 10185-3985,
USA
www.strangechemistrybooks.com
Strange Chemistry #15 A Strange Chemistry paperback original 2013
Copyright © Sean Cummings 2013
Sean Cummings asserts the moral right to beidentified as the author of this work.
Cover art by Paul Young
Set in Sabon by XXX.
Distributed in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York.
All rights reserved.
Angry Robot is a registered trademark and the Angry Robot icon atrademark of Angry Robot Ltd. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are theproducts of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Sales of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book iscoverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed”and neither
the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.
Ebook ISBN 978 1 90884 423 1
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