by Sarah Kuhn
“I think I’m fine,” I said, taking stock of the various parts of my body. Nothing felt broken, altered, or like it was cause for distress. “I think I went somewhere else. In my mind. Obviously not physically, since my body was still here—oh, Pancake! Did I drop him?” I looked around wildly. Leah would straight up murder me if anything happened to that dog.
“He jumped to the ground when you started freaking out,” Aveda said.
As if on cue, Pancake trotted up and started licking my thumb.
“It was almost like I got transported to another plane of existence,” I said, turning the experience over in my mind. “Scott, what did you feel right before? I mean, clearly there is or was some kind of supernatural energy here, right?”
“That would be a logical hypothesis,” Nate murmured.
“It was so strange,” Scott said. “At first, there was nothing there—it was like looking at this big, blank canvas. And then all of a sudden, I felt it—something reaching out, trying to make contact. But it wasn’t interested in communicating with me. It was like it was trying to lunge past, trying to get to you, Bea.”
“It was my mom,” I blurted out. “Our mom,” I amended, reaching over to squeeze Evie’s hand. Tears pricked my eyes again as I remembered her voice, echoing through my head. “She spoke to me. She told me . . . she’s trapped. And whatever trapped her is back. That it will take more people . . .” I shook my head, trying to make sense of the scraps of information Mom had been trying to give me.
“Where is she trapped?” Aveda asked.
My brow furrowed. “She said . . . a demon dimension.”
“We only know of one of those, right?” Lucy said, raising an eyebrow.
“Wait.” Evie held up a hand. “Bea, are you saying . . .” Her eyes widened as she tried to wrap her head around the idea. “Is our mother—who we’ve thought was dead for a decade—trapped in the freaking Otherworld?”
The most bizarre feeling was building in my chest. It was a combination of two completely opposite emotions and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cheer or burst into tears or somehow do both at once.
“It sure looks that way,” I said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MY MOTHER IS alive.
My mother is dead.
My mother is being impersonated by a bunch of demons who have somehow learned my childhood nickname.
My mind was whirling, and I couldn’t contain it. We were back in the common area of It’s Lit, and I was sitting on a stool by the register, downing water. Nate had insisted that even though I seemed to feel okay, I should hydrate. Pancake had forgiven me for nearly dropping him on his ass, and was sprawled in my lap, allowing me to pet him.
“Has there ever been a case involving a human getting trapped in the Otherworld?” Evie asked Nate. “Did Shasta ever mention anything?”
“No,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I can honestly say I’ve never heard of anything like this. The way she talked, the demons in the Otherworld thought of humans as vastly inferior beings. Their goals were more along the lines of enslavement and taking control of the human world. Not holding them prisoner in an alternate dimension for no apparent reason.”
“How would our mom have even gotten to that alternate dimension?” Evie said. “She died years ago.”
“She died after the first demon portal opened up, though,” I said. “Maybe something weird happened to her, something we had no clue about at the time—”
“Bea, we need to keep in mind that this could very well be some kind of Otherworld trick. I watched her waste away,” Evie said, her voice gentle. “From the cancer. There was nothing supernatural about it. You might not remember—”
“I remember,” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. “I wasn’t a total child.”
Admittedly, most of what I remembered was Evie shuttling me out of the room whenever things got really bad, when Mom was throwing up from chemo or too tired to lift her head. I remembered Evie shielding me at every turn. I knew I should appreciate that, but all I felt when I revisited those memories was resentment that I had been denied those last moments with my mother, traumatic as they might have been.
The worst had been the day she died. She’d been in the hospital for weeks at that point, but was having a particularly bad time of it that day. Evie had situated me in the waiting area and kept bringing me random treats from the vending machine while she and Dad tended to Mom. I sat there for hours, getting increasingly frustrated and hopped up on sugar. A landfill of candy wrappers sprung up around me. Finally, Evie had come hustling back one last time in the late afternoon. I sprang to my feet, my face red, my blood racing, and demanded she take me to Mom. She’d grabbed my hand and pulled me back down on the couch. And looking into her eyes, leached of hope . . . I’d known. She hadn’t even had to say the words.
“Anyway,” I said, trying to get my temper under control, “it’s not that I think she didn’t have cancer, but what if something else was going on, too? What if her body died, but her mind, her spirit, went elsewhere?” I stroked Pancake’s fur, replaying what Mom’s voice had said to me when I was in the freaky spacescape. Had that been part of the Otherworld? Had my consciousness visited the Otherworld? Holy shit.
“She told me whatever took her is back,” I said. “That it’s going to take others, that everyone will be trapped like she is . . .” I shivered.
“So where do we start?” Aveda said, leaning against the front counter. “We need more information on . . . well, oh so many things.”
“We should do a thorough scan of the bookstore,” Nate said. “See if we can pick up any additional readings or data points. Perhaps Leah and Bea can complete their review of the security camera video. And . . .” He hesitated, cast a sidelong look at Evie, and put an arm around her shoulders. “I believe we should look more closely into the circumstances of your mother’s death. Bea is right: I don’t know everything Shasta was up to back when she was plotting to take over the city. Perhaps one of her schemes had consequences unknown to us until now.”
“True,” Aveda said. “But Evie is also right: this could be a prime example of Otherworld trickery. Using the idea of your mother to get to you is very potent, Bea, and could be the work of a particularly nefarious demon. This is another good superheroing lesson for you: always stay on your guard, because supernatural forces will try to take advantage of any perceived vulnerabilities you might have.”
“I know that,” I muttered, picking at an invisible bit of lint on my sleeve.
The thing was, I was absolutely certain this force, this voice, this being—whatever you wanted to call it—was my mother. My science brain longed for more concrete proof. My gut told me this was the only possible explanation, and it didn’t matter if anyone else believed me. Maybe it had something to do with the special connection Mom and I had shared, but I just knew. I’d felt that fierce, undeniable bond when she’d spoken to me just now, in the weird spacescape. This was no Otherworld trick. Mom was trapped somehow, and I had to help her.
“So we’ll pursue several avenues of investigation at once,” Scott said, trying to smooth things over.
“Agreed. For instance, we really need to track down the little seaside poet Bea was chatting with yesterday,” Lucy said. “Maybe she experienced a weird connection similar to the one Bea experienced in the bathroom.”
“Oh! I have an idea for that,” Leah said, raising her hand. She’d been quiet up ’til this point, listening to Team Tanaka/Jupiter strategize.
“You can just talk, Lee,” I said encouragingly. “You don’t have to raise your hand.”
“I’ve been planning on hosting this big art jam here at the store,” Leah said. “We’ll provide basic supplies and people can also bring their own and it’ll be a whole night of people painting and reading and writing and crafting and sharing their art with each other. That sounds like somethi
ng our little poet girl would be into, yes?”
“Very much so,” I said. “Good thinking, Lee. Let’s make sure we get the word out to all the local high schools.” I turned to Scott. “Do you think your spell had something to do with Mom connecting to me so directly this time? In a way that transported my consciousness somewhere else?”
“I’m not sure, Bug,” Scott said. He gave me a patient smile. “That’s the first time I’ve attempted that spell, and I don’t know what, exactly, happened back there.”
“Can we try it again?” I set Pancake down next to the register—earning me an indignant look—and got to my feet. “Maybe I can go back to wherever I was and get more information. I can go in with actual questions now that I know what’s happening. I can—” I probably would have kept going in this vein for quite some time, but I was swiftly drowned out by a chorus of No.
“It’s too dangerous,” Scott said.
“We don’t have enough data about how this affected you physically,” Nate said.
“No,” Evie said. “Full stop.”
“But—” I said.
“No!” everyone else said, in near unison. Even Leah. I shot her a look, and she gave me an apologetic shrug.
“I don’t want you mind-transporting into freaky spacescapes until you know more about what you’re dealing with, Bebe,” she said.
“Fine,” I said, slumping back on the stool in a sulk. “So Nate said we should look more closely into Mom’s death—how do we do that?”
“I can gather up whatever records I have from that time,” Evie said slowly.
“A good place to start,” Aveda said, nodding. “And maybe you and Bea could do a more thorough read-through of those letters in the box Kathy gave you, maybe they can give us some clues—you said they were written close to your mother’s death?”
Evie nodded, but looked reluctant. Delving into the details around Mom’s death was something she generally avoided.
“We should probably visit the hospital. Where she died,” I said. “I can take that on.”
“Oh, Bea—you don’t have to,” Evie said quickly. “Not by yourself.”
“I won’t be by myself, I’ll take Sam.” I heard both Leah and Pancake snort behind me, like they were trying to keep from laughing. I ignored them. “He’s off shift for the afternoon. And he has a car.” And I could rip off the potential-awkwardness band-aid. Might as well get that out of the way as soon as possible.
“All right,” Evie said. “In that case, I’ll email Dad, see what he remembers from that time period. That way we’re splitting up the potentially emotionally taxing tasks.”
“Yay, sister teamwork,” I said, giving a little fist-pump.
“This is so touching!” Lucy said. “And it reminds me, we still haven’t eaten any of my cake. Seems like a very appropriate moment to do so, does it not?”
“Oh, absolutely, Luce,” Evie said weakly.
“I can’t wait for this deliciousness,” I said, plastering on a big grin.
“Yummmmmm,” Aveda said, sounding the least convincing of all of us.
We all turned back to the counter—just as Pancake trotted over and sat his ass down right in the middle of Lucy’s oozy blob cake.
“Oh, what a shame,” Leah said, not looking the least bit sad at all. She patted Pancake on the head. “Bad dog.”
* * *
“I need you to drive me to the hospital.”
I hadn’t rehearsed what I was going to say to Sam—I had quite a few things to cover, after all—so when he answered the door to his apartment, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“What?!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently guided me inside, looking alarmed as he scanned my face. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“What—no!” I said, belatedly realizing what my breezy proclamation had sounded like. “Sorry. Let me back up.” I took a deep breath and tried to put all of my disparate thoughts in order. “I need you to drive me to the hospital where my mom died so we can learn more about the exact circumstances of her death. Scott did this spell in the It’s Lit bathroom that somehow ended with me talking to Mom, and she’s maybe trapped in the Otherworld and is currently worried other people are gonna get trapped too. I volunteered to do this hospital part because I think it will be less emotionally taxing for me than Evie and also probably way more exciting than all of the superheroic investigating I’ve been doing so far, which really isn’t very exciting at all. Also, Leah thinks you and I kissed last night because we were bored and trying to create drama, which is kind of insulting, but also maybe makes things easier because we can just sort of agree that’s what happened and move on. Right?”
I paused my motormouthing, slightly out of breath, and cocked my head at him. I don’t know what I was expecting—that he’d laugh and agree, and we could speed off on our hospital mission, and it would be as easy as Leah had claimed, I guess? Instead he studied me, his gaze a mix of surprise and befuddlement. His hands were still on my shoulders, I realized, and I was suddenly very aware of their weight, their warmth, the way that simple touch made me flash back to those same hands pressing against the small of my back the night before, urging me closer—
Argh. What was I doing? Why did my brain choose now to replay that moment in graphic detail?
“You’re flushed,” Sam said, putting a hand on my forehead. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital? Maybe you’re running a fever.”
“I’m fine,” I sputtered. “And did you hear anything I just said? Because it’s pretty freaking important, and if you’re going to make me repeat it all, well, I really do not have the time for that, I need to get to—”
“I heard you,” he said, giving me an exasperated look and dropping his hand from my forehead. I had a sudden, irrational wish for him to put it back. “I’m processing. You talk faster than any normal human being should.”
“Can’t keep up with me?” I said, attempting to kickstart our usual competitive sniping. “What a shame.”
“I’m keeping up just fine,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. “So to start with the last thing: Leah thinks I kissed you to start drama? Do you think that?”
“Excuse me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and drew myself up tall. “You did not kiss me. I kissed you.”
“I know when I kiss someone, Beatrice,” he said, giving me an especially smug version of his self-satisfied smirk. “Believe me.”
“I kissed you first—you kissed me back,” I protested. My flush had escalated to the face-on-fire level and irritation crawled under my skin. I poked my index finger into his chest. “I remember because you made this sort of growling sound in the back of your throat, like you were surprised, and then you . . .” I trailed off and swallowed hard. My mouth was totally dry, my face was flaming hot, and I couldn’t seem to remove my finger from his chest. I was picturing everything that had come after he’d made that sound . . . Goddammit, that sound. Just thinking about that husky growl spilling out of him, that sound that had to mean he was turned on, that sound that reverberated through my entire body—
“And then I what?” he said, covering my hand with his. His voice had the challenging tone it always got when we were trying to one-up each other. And just a hint of that same growl. I shivered.
“You . . .” I tried to force my brain to spit out a coherent thought. Just one coherent thought, that’s all I was asking for. But my brain was super not into cooperating, and his hand was pressing mine against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating against my palm. That little rush I always got from challenging him, from him challenging me, from our all too familiar pattern of trying like mad to get the other person to concede, was racing through my bloodstream. It felt amplified, exaggerated. Like someone had turned the volume way up.
This time, he definitely kissed me fir
st. I’ll give him that.
Bea: 1275, Sam: 1165.
His arms went around my waist to pull me closer, his hands sliding under my shirt. Blood roared in my ears as his tongue parted my lips and I gasped against his mouth and pressed myself more firmly against him, craving more.
Why does this feel so fucking good?
Because it’s giving you that drama you need so badly, a little voice in my head piped up helpfully. Remember what Leah said—
Shit. Right.
I pushed away from him and took two big steps backward, putting a decent amount of space between us.
“Hey,” I said, giving him a stern look. “We’re supposed to be agreeing that we don’t need to be doing any of that—” I made a broad gesture at the space between us. “—and moving on to what’s actually important here. Which is going to the hospital and doing some hardcore supernatural investigating.”
Sam gave me a look. “You know that agreeing on something requires input from two people, right?”
I put my hands on my hips. “You do agree with me, though, right?”
“Am I agreeing with you or with Leah? Because you’ve told me what she thinks, but not what you think—”
“I think what she thinks,” I said stubbornly. “Leah and I have the same opinion about a lot of things.”
“Fine. But I don’t think something Leah said should dictate whether or not we kiss again.”
“Do you want to kiss me again?”
He stared at me for a moment, silence building until it felt like an oppressive force taking up the whole room. Then he stepped forward, closing the space I’d put between us. His expression shifted ever so subtly—like the smug heartthrob Calendar Sam mask fell away, leaving Supportive Friend Sam in its place. He reached over and brushed my hair off of my face, and I found myself leaning into his touch. I desperately wanted to look down, to alleviate the intensity humming between us, but I couldn’t break eye contact. That would’ve felt like losing. Like conceding an especially precious point.
