The second was that the orange light surrounding Charlie’s head changed to blue. He found his mouth trapped shut, rendered useless.
“Check out the badass new witchling!” Dog Man taunted as he walked to where Charlie lay in the blue pool of light. “A mere month ago you were clinging to your mama’s apron strings, crying as I beat on her. Now you’re using big-boy Words and being on the offensive. Aren’t you the tough guy?”
He stopped a few inches from Charlie’s stomach. He bent his knee and drew one of his feet back, preparing to kick. The binding blue light made the steel-toed point of his boot shine like a silver star. Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, preparing to feel the sharp impact of the boot in his gut.
Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and looked up at Dog Man.
“You know,” said the man, standing now with both feet planted on the ground. “I oughta just kick the crap outta you, little boy. You deserve it. Making all of our lives hell around here. If you had just come back with me when I found you in your little house in Clarkston, it would not have come to this.” He gestured, his arms spread wide.
Charlie didn’t know what “this” meant. Was he referring to the fact that Charlie was lying on his side, bound by a blue light? Or that they were in a dark room somewhere, most likely in the bowels of some basement? Or did he mean the attacks that he and Grace and the others had been waging?
It didn’t matter. The way Dog Man spoke, Charlie could tell he wasn’t expecting an answer. He figured that if the man kept talking, he might learn more about where he was and how to escape.
Dog Man bent over and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Electric currents ran from his head to his toes as his entire body rose from the floor, face up, until he was level with the man’s hips, stiff as a magician’s assistant.
Dog Man turned and walked down the hallway. Charlie floated along beside him.
“We gotta figure out what makes you tick, kid,” he said as he looked down at Charlie’s face. “I mean, really. It took us three attempts to finally get you. What the hell? Doesn’t make sense.”
He heard another door opening. Bright overhead light forced him to squeeze his eyes shut.
“Put him over there,” a woman’s voice said.
Charlie felt hands on his body as he was pushed down onto a chair. Although the blue light kept him from moving, the hands forced his body to mold to the contours of the chair so that he ended up more or less in a sitting position with his arms plastered to his sides and his feet stuck to the floor.
Charlie could make out the shapes of several people walking around the room. His nose was assaulted with the overwhelming stink of unwashed bodies. The blue light still floated around him.
“Dude!” Charlie heard someone say. He could see more clearly now and watched as a slim man did an exaggerated moonwalk over to his chair, spun around, then started break dancing in front of him.
“Welcome to the dollhouse, Chuck!” the man said. He stuck his face right up against Charlie’s. Charlie recognized him as the man who broke into his bedroom with Scissors Lady those several weeks ago, the one who fought with Beverly.
Charlie could smell mint gum. The man’s teeth were extremely white, and dark stubble covered his cheeks and jawline. He thought he could see madness behind the spark of playfulness in the man’s eyes.
“Tony Ambrosio at your service, little fellah!” the man said. “And this is Claudia,” he bowed and with a flourish indicated the beautiful black woman who’d held the scissors. “I know we’ve met, but I thought a more formal introduction would be groovy. You are utterly psychological!” He grabbed Charlie’s cheeks and shook his head back and forth. “Ooh, I could just eat you right now!”
While the pain in Charlie’s head had lessened from what it had been a few moments ago, the shaking motion nearly crippled him. He feared he would pass out again. The idea of losing consciousness in the hands of this crazy man terrified him. He bit the insides of his cheeks to remain awake.
“Don’t mind him,” Scissors Lady/Claudia said as she came into view. “He’s just plain nuts.”
“I am too,” Tony said, spinning in place then dropping to the floor in the splits before popping back to his feet and walking away.
“You, mister,” Claudia said, shaking her finger at Charlie. “You sure are a tricky one, aren’t you?” Her voice was teasing and soft. Charlie tried not to shake as she bent down and looked into his eyes. She brought her hand closer to him. Her fingernails were painted a bright pink, and there were flowery decals in the corner of each one. She extended her pointer finger. The nail began to grow, sharpening at the point. He felt it poke into the side of his face.
“Meow,” she said and then ran her finger down his cheek. The point of the nail caught at his skin and tore into it.
The blue glow held his head in place. He could feel the flow of blood trickle down his cheek. It should have hurt, but either the pain in his head overshadowed the gash she was making or he was too numb to care.
“I cut you,” she said, fluttering her eyes, “just like I said I would.” Her fingernail shrank back, returning to normal size. She smiled, then stood back and looked at him, arms folded, admiring her work for a few more moments before she walked away.
Charlie looked around the room. It was brightly lit where he sat, but the light didn’t cover the rest of the area. He tried to see across the room but couldn’t make anything out. The smell of dirty bodies permeated everything. He hadn’t noticed any stench coming from Dog Man, Tony, or Scissors Lady, so he assumed there were others in the basement too.
“Okay, people,” said a familiar voice. Charlie looked to his right and saw Grace walk through the doorway, followed by Malcolm, who kept his eyes locked on the back of Grace’s head. Fear swept over him like a cold wind. Grace stopped to survey the room, nodding her head. “This is good. This is very good. Well done.”
CHAPTER 26
Coppertop
GRACE WALKED OVER TO where Charlie sat.
“You knew it was inevitable that we would have some time together, didn’t you? And since you wouldn’t come here of your own volition, well …” She looked over her shoulder to where Malcolm stood with his hands behind his back, staring at Grace as if waiting for her to give him instructions.
“Hey, people, come on now. I don’t see the need for bondage. Really. I’m sure Charlie will mind his manners.” She flicked her fingers in his direction. The blue light surrounding him vanished.
His limbs had fallen asleep, but now he was able to move his mouth. He let the Words gather behind him, let them find his lips and move them.
A wooden chair near Charlie’s feet leaped into the air and darted toward Grace’s head.
“Oh dear,” she said, bending at her knees and holding her hands up to the side of her face in mock fear. The chair stopped inches from her head. “What can I do against a little witch as powerful as you, Charlie?”
She moved her arms and the chair flew against the wall, exploding in a cloud of wood and dust.
Rita and Daniel had taught him that once you decided to attack, you committed yourself. This meant that he had already moved his attention to the next spell, his lips moving fast. Objects began to fly around the room.
Grace looked at Charlie, her smile fading as her eyes narrowed.
Quicker than thought, she stood before him in a blur of peach and ginger. “Really, Charlie? You don’t get it, do you? How much trouble you’re in?”
She struck him across the face with the back of her hand. His chair tipped backwards and his skull cracked against the wall behind him. His hands flew to his head as more pain seared his face and forehead.
“Malcolm, tell him who’s really in charge!”
“Do what she says, kid,” Malcolm said, his eyes wide, his voice flat. “If you do, everything will be all right.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing,” Charlie said, hearing his voice as if it were a million miles away. He had never experienced
pain like this before, so sharp and all-encompassing, like it was a real person standing over him, punching and kicking his head and gut, his neck, without stop. He didn’t know how he had managed to talk.
“What is it with you people?” Grace screamed. “I am helping you all, and yet you try to thwart me at every step. What a bunch of ingrates!”
She backed away from him and with a flick of her fingers his chair righted itself, sweeping him upwards into a sitting position. At the same time, overhead lights came on, illuminating everything.
The room was about the size of a double-car garage. More than twenty chairs lined the walls opposite him and to his right. In each chair sat a kid, ranging in age from about ten years old to eighteen or nineteen. All of them sat perfectly still except for their quick shallow breathing. Their eyes were open and dull, lips parted, skin pallid and yellowish. All had gray circles beneath their eyes, though some were much darker than others. He recognized a girl from the framed photograph during the witches’ meeting in the basement on Washington Street. In the picture, her hair had been bright red and frizzy; now it hung in greasy, mud-colored tendrils along the sides of her face. Suzette Nickerson. Charlie thought about Mrs. Nickerson wringing her hands during the meeting, while her husband stood still, looking dazed and lost.
“Oh my god,” Charlie moaned, the last word rising nearly an octave in dread. The shock of what he saw seemed to diminish the pain in his head, or at least move it a foot or two away from him. “Those kids. What …? What are they doing here? Why are they here?”
Grace smiled. “Don’t you see, Charlie? Your grandfather knew what I was doing. He could see how it would benefit us. These kids. Look at them. So fresh, so ready. So ready.”
He glanced at their faces, horrified to stare at any one for more than a second or two. Ready for what? What had she done to make them look so, so … dead? Like they were in comas but with their eyes open.
“What is this?” Charlie heard himself ask out loud.
“What is this?” Grace said. “Well, it’s the most courageous thing you’ve ever seen. Nobody has had the know-how, or the guts, to do this. I’m a pioneer.”
Dog Man walked over to where Grace stood and looked at Charlie. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered, new witches are the most powerful right when they’re popped. All of that raw energy, unbridled and untethered! But after a week? Nearly all gone. No one has ever been able to regain that level of power,” he finished, shaking his head sadly.
“Forget it! I … I don’t want to know!” Charlie said, not quite convincing himself. True, he was disgusted by what the witches seemed to be hinting at. But a part of him wanted to know, to understand why the kids were sitting in their chairs, why Malcolm had betrayed everyone to join Grace’s side. Hadn’t he been curious about this ever since Grace had promised to tell him the secrets she held? He squirmed in his chair, torn between horror and fascination, forgetting for the moment that he was no longer bound by the blue light.
Grace barked a laugh. “Oh, but you do want to know, Charlie. That’s the truth, isn’t it? Why else would you have agreed to fly off with me during our little nighttime rendezvous? Hmm?
“When I met Thomas here,” Grace said, nodding at Dog Man, “he’d been playing around with certain taboos in the witching world, things we’ve all been told couldn’t be done.”
“When someone dies, ” Dog Man Thomas continued, his voice faster, more excited, “there is a burst of energy that can be quite strong. I developed the ability to grab it and use it, to consume it. The sheer power I gained from it was incredible.
“I showed Grace what I could do. She practiced and practiced and eventually got the hang of it.”
But … Charlie thought to himself. But Beverly said this was impossible. That it was all a myth.
“I knew there could be more,” Grace said, her volume rising. “A way to use the same principles and apply them to newly popped witches. Just imagine what a burst of juice that would be!
“It took us years. We tried and failed, tried and failed, until eventually we did it. We found a way to harness all that incredible energy instead of letting it go to waste.”
“No, no, you can’t, you can’t just …” Charlie moaned.
“Oh, but yes. Yes, we can!” she laughed, practically shouting now. Pride widened her features as she indicated the kids in the chairs with a wave of her hand.
Charlie’s head spun. He tried to comprehend what Grace and Thomas were saying. Using unpopped witches the same way they got power from dead people?
Kidnapping, killing, harnessing power. It was the stuff of fairy tales. Or nightmares.
“Things really do go bump in the night,” his mother told him when they had fled from Clarkston in the Toyota. Had she known what was going on? Had she any idea what Grace was up to?
Why were they telling him all of this? What was Malcolm’s part in it? And how was he going to escape?
“What do you want with me? Why am I here?” Charlie asked.
The man and the woman looked at each other. Grace nodded to Thomas.
“Charlie, I bet Elizabeth failed to mention this to you. I don’t mean to get all Jerry Springer on you, but … I’m your dear old dad. I just wanted to welcome you to the family.”
CHAPTER 27
Apple and Tree
CHARLIE’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN as he stared at Thomas.
“What? No, you’re not. My father was, was …” he began. Was what? The kind-hearted man who worked the fishing boats in Alaska year-round? Who didn’t look anything like Dog Man standing before him? How could he have let his imaginary dad become so real to him that he used it as the standard for measurement?
“Oh my god, this is better than Jerry Springer! He didn’t know!” shouted Tony, clapping his hands and wiggling his hips. “Look at him, kid. Don’t you see the resemblance?”
Thomas walked over to Charlie and bent down so his face was level with Charlie’s.
“Same blond curls,” the man said, reaching out to ruffle Charlie’s hair, who jerked his head away. “Same chin, though you have your mother’s eyes. What do you think, Grace? Does he have my nose?”
She came over and kneeled down beside Thomas. “Oh yes, he has your nose, Thomas. Most definitely.”
With both adults so close to him, Charlie’s vision blurred. How could this be true? How could any of it be true? He knew they were lying, knew they must be saying this to torture him.
But his mind flooded with the secrets that had been revealed to him since late August: the legacy of witchcraft, how his mother had pretended to be someone she wasn’t, his aunt and uncle in Seattle, even the secrets of his very own heart. He had grown used to this feeling of denial followed by a slow reluctant acceptance. He had accepted things because he had to, because he couldn’t deny the truth, no matter how hard he tried. Broomsticks, dogs that talked, secret societies.
Maybe this was true. Maybe his mother had dated Thomas. Maybe she had even married him. She had hidden so much else from Charlie, why would she worry about keeping this fact from him? Maybe Thomas really was his father. So what? He had no feelings for him, this awful man who was in cahoots with Grace. Well, that wasn’t true. He had several: contempt, disgust, hatred, fear.
“How sweet!” said Scissors Lady. “Father and son reunited. Isn’t that darling?” she giggled.
“I don’t believe you. I don’t care. None of it,” Charlie sputtered, his words rasping up out of his dry, dry throat.
“Wait a minute, Charlie, which is it?” Grace said. “You don’t believe it, or you don’t care? It can’t be both.”
Charlie couldn’t sit still any longer. He lurched into a standing position, nearly stumbling on his wobbly legs. This was all too big, too ridiculous, too …
“Wait, Charlie,” said Grace. “You don’t seem to understand what this means. What it can mean for you.”
She walked over to one of the kids in a chair. He looked to be about twelve years old. He had black h
air. Most of it was matted to his head. He had Asian features and light brown skin. He stared straight ahead the way people sometimes stare at the TV: eyes lifeless, mouth hanging open. His chest rose and fell with rapid shallow breaths.
“Thomas and I figured out a way to use the power of these teens, Charlie. The way it boosts our own natural abilities is incredible. Watch.”
She placed her hand on top of the boy’s head. Immediately his neck stiffened and his breathing froze. His face tightened and shriveled into something that looked like torment.
Grace’s head shot back, exposing the creamy softness of her neck. She held that position until a sigh slid from her lips, a sigh sounding very much like pleasure. She dropped her chin and looked at Charlie. Her eyes sparked is if they were filled with lightning.
“The sheer force of it all, you can’t understand, Charlie. What it allows me to do. You have no idea.”
She vanished, appearing on the other side of the room. He watched as her body grew larger, then smaller, Alice-in-Wonderland style.
“I can do things that were previously impossible,” Grace said. Her body burst into flame, and she rose into the air, spinning with heat and embers. Just as quickly, she stood still, back on the ground, flames extinguished. She disappeared again, then reappeared next to Malcolm, who jumped nearly a foot and then stepped several feet away from Grace before resuming his flat lifeless expression.
Charlie stared, dumbfounded, at Grace’s display of power.
“Your grandfather understood that it was time for witches to come out of hiding. That we had lived for far too long under cover, running from angry townspeople, suffering persecution, all because we didn’t have the sheer power to control the human population, to take our rightful place as their sovereign leaders.
The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Home: A Gay Teen Coming of Age Paranormal Adventure about Witches, Murder, and Gay Teen Love (The Broom Closet Stories Book 2) Page 19
