T*Witches 3: Seeing Is Deceiving

by H. B. Gilmour

  “So we have to transform the gym into a fiesta-worthy environment,” Kris was explaining. “Challenging much?”

  “Speaking of,” Bree said, turning to Kris, “how’d you respond to the challenge issued by Craig? Are you going with him?”

  Kris nodded. “I am. What about you? Decide yet?”

  “It’s between Jon, Tanner, and this tempting new junior, Marco.” Bree explained of the last one, “He’s in the drama club, supposed to be a really good actor.”

  Sukari’s friend-protecting radar went up. “Watch it, Ms. Brianna — just be sure he’s not playin’ you because of your dad.”

  Bree’s father was a big-time Hollywood producer. A fact she made sure the entire school knew. What no one knew, except for Bree’s closest friends, was that since her parents’ divorce ten years ago, she had little contact with him. Now she sniffed her “like I couldn’t tell?!” sniff and changed the subject. “You’re going, right, Beth? I mean, getting in touch with your inner humanitarian doesn’t cancel out having fun. You know what they say, ‘All activism and no play …’”

  “I am totally going to the dance. Not,” she sighed overdramatically, “that I have a date, but….”

  “Don’t need one,” Sukari cut in cheerfully. “It’s not a mating dance — lots of people are going solo. Better chance of meeting someone that way.”

  The tap on her shoulder was a light one, but Cam jumped as if someone had come up behind her and gripped her hard. She flipped around, fully expecting the evil eye of Webb. Or worse.

  So there was no way Jason Weissman, the lanky senior who was into her, could have interpreted her expression: a morph from panic to relief in a micro-second. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  Cam heard her friends snickering as she stammered, “You d-didn’t. I mean, you did … but…”

  “So, anyway, uh, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jason shifted his weight from one foot to the other and eyed her hopefully.

  “Sure.” Cam shot her buds a “cut it out” look and followed the buff boy across the room.

  Cam totally liked him. Athletic, smart, and hot, still Jason was not a show-off or a player. He was a nice guy — and okay about being a nice guy. Only, she wasn’t sure if she liked him because of all his worthy qualities, or if she liked liked him.

  Jason found a spot by the vending machine and stopped. He self-consciously shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “So what’s up? Why are you so jumpy? Not that you have to tell me.”

  Suddenly shy — how unlike her! — Cam focused on the floor. “I’m just stressin’ about social studies,” she found herself telling him.

  “You? Go-to-the-head-of-the-class Cam? Hey, if you need tutoring …”

  “It’s not the work. Yesterday, we got this evil demon substitute teacher.”

  “Well, the good thing about evil demon substitutes is that they leave.”

  “Not this one. She’s gonna be a fixture for a while. Anyway.” Cam gazed up into Jason’s big dark brown eyes. “I have a hunch that’s not what you wanted to talk about.”

  “You and your hunches. Right again. It’s about the dance. You going?”

  Cam decided to make it easy on him. “Are you asking me? ’Cause if you are, the answer’s yes.”

  Relief flooded Jason’s angular face. “Excellent! Then, I’ll see you, I mean I’ll pick you up … What am I saying? Of course I’ll see you before then!”

  Cam giggled. “Of course. Later.” When she strode back to her friends, she couldn’t hide the silly smile plastered across her face.

  Which sent Bree’s radar into hyperdrive. “Bet I know what’s got our Cami all aglow — alpha girl strikes again, asked to the dance by the senior of her dreams.”

  Blushing, Cam protested, “He is so not! We’re friends. He’s a cool…”

  But all five of her buds — Beth included, she noted happily — razzed her good-naturedly for the rest of the period. As they did, her protests became weaker. Because for a moment, Cam remembered what her life was like before Alex came into the picture. Before everything changed. Even if she never felt completely normal, her life, at least, was.

  Those good feelings almost made her forget about the last period of the day.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BLINDED BY THE LIGHT

  “Ms. Barnes” — Webb fixed a cold eye on her — “perhaps you can enlighten us. To which world leader is this historic quote attributed, and at what occasion did he — or she — say it: ‘Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate’?”

  Nervously, Cam flipped through her textbook. Was that in last night’s reading assignment? She thought she’d been prepared. But the total tarantula who stood at Ms. Jameson’s desk was on a mission to prove otherwise.

  Webb’s way, the class quickly found out, was to unnerve them by lobbing rapid-fire questions at them. Ignoring volunteers, she chose victims randomly as if her goal was not education, but humiliation.

  Still, Brianna deftly held her own, and Beth rarely missed a question. Of course they didn’t get the really hard ones. And when they did, they got hints. Webb had phrased this question purposely so Cam wouldn’t know if it was a U.S. President, a prime minister, or another world leader, male or female. Could Webb be more obvious? Marking down every wrong or “incomplete” answer, spider-woman was deliberately trying to take Cam’s grades down a notch. Or several.

  Messing with Cam’s grades was a total hot button. She was beyond boiling. As Alex had pointed out, this slimeball should have been worried about Cam exposing her. So why was she baiting Cam instead? She obviously needed a little reminder. “Before I answer that, I have a question for you, Ms. Webb. It’s sort of off topic, but it’s really important.”

  “Go ahead.” Ms. Webb tapped talon-shaped fingernails on the desk.

  “I’d like to know your feeling about the means justifying the ends. Like, say, raising money for a righteous cause — would you stoop to doing something illegal, like shoplifting?”

  Although Cam couldn’t see Beth, who sat behind her, she knew her friend’s eyes had just popped open wide. The whole class was staring at her.

  The black-clad teacher paused, then shot Cam a withering stare. “Now what makes you ask that, Ms. Barnes? Trying to distract me from making you answer a question you clearly don’t know?” The class giggled. They thought Webb had one-upped her.

  Cam answered evenly, “No, just wondering.” Touché!

  If Cam thought that would intimidate the teacher, make her rethink the victimizing, she was beyond wrong. Webb continued, “Well, Ms. Barnes, while that was a fascinating interlude, we’re still waiting for an answer.”

  Brianna slid her platform-sandaled toe across the aisle that separated their desks, nudged Cam’s ankle, a hint that she knew the answer. Cam made the mistake of glancing over at her friend.

  “We’re not tag-teaming here,” Webb snarled. “Either you know the answer or you don’t. Which is it, Ms. Barnes?”

  She tried to conjure up the answer. Franklin Roosevelt? Napoleon? Golda Meir? Could have been any of those.

  An unlikely source tried to break the tension. Scott Marino, freckle-faced class clown, blurted out, “She can’t phone a friend?”

  “Nor can she poll the audience,” Ms. Webb rejoined without missing a beat, nor with a hint of humor. “This isn’t a quiz show, Mr. Marino.”

  The distraction worked to Cam’s advantage. An image of John F. Kennedy came to her. She nailed it.

  Which didn’t satisfy Ms. Webb, who sneered, “Incomplete. When did he say that? If you fail to answer both parts of the question, you get fifty percent — half credit.”

  Cam was fuming. No one else got two-part questions! Everyone else got hints! And she’d given the correct answer!

  Webb was so asking for it. Did she need a reminder of what Cam could do? She’s goin’ down!

  “Ms. Barnes, we still await your answer. You have five seconds.”


  Cam snapped. You want an answer? How ’bout this?

  Cam telescoped in on Webb’s bulging bug eyes. She’d done this before. During a soccer game last summer, she’d wished her opponent would trip, and unwittingly made it happen. Now her wits were totally about her. She recalled the words that had come to her that day and instantly revised them. Treacherous teacher, you will not win. Blunder, and stumble, let the fun begin!

  Fun, however, was not in the cards. In a bad-timing moment of epic proportions, Scott Marino popped out of his seat — right into the path of Cam’s penetrating stare. Disoriented, he toppled over and shrieked, “I’m blind! Ahhh!! I can’t see! Help!!”

  Cam was mortified. She leaped out of her seat and ran over to him. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay in a sec,” she whispered. “It’s only temporary.” She put her arm around him, attempting to help him up.

  But Webb roughly edged her out of the way. “Scott? What happened? What’s going on?”

  He wailed, “I fell. Everything’s too bright! The whole room’s white! I can’t see!”

  Cam inserted herself between the teacher and the boy. She instructed, “Keep your eyes closed for a sec, blink. It’ll be okay in a minute.”

  Ignoring her, Webb propelled him out the door, heading for the school nurse. But not before Cam heard Scott murmur, “Wait, stop. I think it’s better…. I can see now. I’m okay.”

  Cam wasn’t. Bummed and shaken, her eyes stinging, she dashed out the door. She had to find Alex. But she hadn’t gotten two steps when Brianna grabbed her elbow and commanded, “Girls’ room, stat!”

  “What exactly just happened in there?” Bree demanded as soon as they were inside and had made sure they were alone.

  “Scott had a weird hysterical blindness thing …?” Cam replied weakly.

  Bree’s expertly shaped eyebrows arched. “Must be catching. Didn’t the same thing happen to Lindsay on the soccer field?”

  Great, not only had an innocent kid gotten the scare of his life, but Bree was suspicious. She was 0-2.

  Cam fidgeted with her sun necklace. “Webb’s an equal-opportunity agitator. She could give anyone a panic attack.”

  Bree pursed her lips. “Speaking of the wicked witch of Marble Bay High, are you, like, trying to get her to fail you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Brianna leaned into Cam. “Fact: Cruella de Vil was totally picking on you. But that bizarro question about shoplifting? What was up with that?”

  “Look, I just… know something bad about her. She’s not what she seems.”

  “Really?” Bree went on instant dirt alert. “Dish, now!”

  Cam averted Brianna’s “you’ve gotta tell me” stare and sent a silent message to her twin. Alex, where are you?

  Right here, sis. Coming in the door.

  Had she really heard that? Was Als near enough?

  The girls’ room door opened and Alex, beat-up messenger bag slung crosswise over her shoulder, sauntered in, eye makeup still defiantly smudged.

  Brianna cracked, “Love the spin-art approach to makeup, Dyslexia. You’ve really got that evil twin thing nailed. But maybe you can figure out why your sister is trying to fail social studies. As for moi, I decorate, therefore, I bounce.” Bree shouldered her Prada bag and headed out.

  Alex took one look at her totally bummed-out sister and suggested, “To quote the local parlance — we should ‘bounce,’ too. A quiet place is …?”

  “Soccer field,” Cam responded glumly. “No practice today.”

  A few minutes later, the twins settled on the empty bleachers overlooking the deserted field.

  “So what are you doing here anyway?” Cam asked. “No jamming with Dylan today?”

  “I heard you,” Alex said gently, ignoring Cam’s sarcasm. “You needed me.”

  “More than ‘wishes he were Bob’ Dylan?” Cam knew she was sounding whiny — jealous even — but was too tired to care.

  Alex sighed. “Dudley Do-wrong has his own issues. I’ll deal with him later. Cam, what’s going on? What was Bree babbling about? What’d you do?”

  Cam downloaded her twin on the whole bizarre social studies period, ending with her failure at tripping up Webb, and accidentally stun-gunning Scott Marino.

  Alex was astonished. “You used your powers just because you might get what, a B? Dude, you’re making progress!”

  Cam grimaced. Alex thought it was funny when it had been a really stupid move. She’d reacted out of anger, without considering the consequences. That was the real bad plan. Something, someone —

  Right. Karsh should have come and put a stop to it. Alex completed her thought.

  “Als? Don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t seen or even heard from them in so long? Unless,” Cam paused. “Unless you heard something and didn’t tell me?”

  “Not guilty,” Alex responded. “Maybe this whole Webb deal isn’t on their danger radar. Though you’d think ‘gross misuse of powers’ would be reason enough for Karsh. As for her, Little Miss ‘Call Me Goddess’ always seems like she’s doing us the biggest favor by showing up.”

  “What if we try to call them?” Cam suggested.

  “What? Just yell out?” Alex kidded. “It’s not like we have the code, area or zip.”

  Cam twisted her hair into a ponytail and tied a scrunchie around it. “We could try an incantation.”

  “We don’t know any that work for summoning,” Alex reminded her.

  “We’ve made up others on the spot,” Cam countered. “We’ve got our necklaces.”

  Alex flipped her messenger bag open and pulled out paper at the exact same moment Cam got a pen out of her backpack.

  Fifteen minutes later, Alex took Cam’s hand. Their words floated over the empty soccer field.

  Tracker and guardian, sworn to protect,

  This dusky twilight, please come and connect.

  We see danger approaching, evil encroaching.

  Be there for us so we may unite,

  To banish corruption, join together, and fight.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A TALE OF

  THREE BROTHERS

  We see danger approaching, evil encroaching …” Silently, Karsh finished the incantation. He could hear the twins summoning him. It broke his heart that he couldn’t respond. He had promised to always be there for them. A promise he never expected to break. But he also hadn’t expected to find himself in his current situation, hands bound by thick hemp cord that cut into his wrists, legs chained at the ankles so he could not rise without help. He could recite a spell and free himself, but his captors would no doubt turn him into some easily squashable creature, like a caterpillar or slug. There were two of them, both younger, stronger, and possibly more powerful — and only one of him. They could, and would, overpower him in a split second.

  Be there for us so we may unite,

  To banish corruption, join together, and fight.

  Karsh wanted desperately to respond telepathically, allow the twins to hear his calming voice in their heads. Camryn believed they were in danger; now Alexandra seemed to agree. By the words of their incantation he knew Ileana had not come to their aid, either. That distressed him more than anything. It meant his impetuous young charge was falling into the very trap set for her — that she would try to rescue him, instead of them. If he could accomplish only one thing in his disabled state, he would warn Ileana.

  He heard the dangerously creaking, wooden steps groaning under the weight of heavy boots, followed by a lighter, but not more deft step. Quickly, Karsh dashed his own thoughts. His captors were also masterful mind readers.

  “Very shrewd, you wily fox, scramble your thoughts as a radio dial caught between stations. An old trick.” Thantos now towered over Karsh, menacing and mean, stroking his full black beard. “Fitting for an old man.”

  The most ruthless and powerful of warlocks had held Karsh captive here in this mildewed basement for nearly two weeks. Not that he’d personally carried o
ut the abduction or even planned it, for that matter. This turn of events had been made possible by Fredo, the other warlock, who’d backed into it, really, and now sat sulking in a corner of the room.

  “Why don’t we just get rid of him?” the reedy-voiced Fredo whined. “I’ll do it!”

  Thantos swiftly whirled around and pointed at Fredo. “You will do exactly as I command you. What I say and when I say so. Until then, keep your ideas in a place where I can’t even hear them.”

  “You never think any of my ideas are good!” Fredo pouted and crossed his bony arms sullenly.

  “When you finally have one, I’ll let you know!” Thantos thundered back at him, and Fredo cowered into his corner.

  In spite of his situation, Karsh couldn’t help being amused. Their behavior now was not unlike what it had always been, when the brothers were children.

  Thantos, the eldest, had been a large boy. Now, at six foot five inches tall, dark and muscular, he’d grown into an imposing man. He’d always had a mean streak — as a kid, he was a bully. As a man, he’d become a brute, ruthlessly driving the family business, CompUmag, into one of the richest and most powerful conglomerates in the world. Lord Thantos — or Mr. Sot Naht, as he was known in the outside world — was “the brawn,” and he wielded immense and terrifying power.

  Fredo, the youngest, had been a slight and sickly kid. None too bright, it had taken him three years, instead of the customary six months, to pass Coventry Island’s initiation tests and attain the rank of full-fledged warlock. He still was not an able tracker, and although he had learned the skill of transmutation, there were few forms he could really take. A huge and monstrous lizard was his favorite.

  Fredo had grown older, but had never grown up. Now he’d become a dangerously inept adult, always trying to curry favor with his big brother. Until recently, Thantos had been content to allow Fredo to do some of his bidding. It kept the simpleton out of his way, and more important, away from CompUmag. Fredo was, and remained, the baby of the family.