up with a pen and a smile, hoping for something more personal than “have a neat summer” when such hopes are futile. And I can’t help but suspect that what they really want is for me to write something cryptic or crazy, some new clue they could use for the rumor mill. It’s been tempting, but so far I haven’t done it.
When there’s a tap on my shoulder and I turn around to see Cait Hecht, my botched date from two weeks ago, I almost back into my locker.
“Hey, Cas,” she smiles. “Sign my yearbook?”
“Absolutely,” I say, and take it, scrambling to think of something personal but all that goes through my brain is “have a neat summer.” I write her name and then a comma. What now? “Sorry about the brush-off, but you reminded me of a girl I killed”? Or maybe, “It never would have worked. The girl I love would disembowel you.”
“So, are you doing anything cool this summer?” she asks.
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe travel around a bit more.”
“But you’ll be back here in the fall?” Her brows are raised politely, but it’s just small talk. Carmel says Cait started dating Quentin Davis two days after the coffee shop. I was relieved to hear it, and am relieved now that she doesn’t seem upset in the least.
“That is a very good question,” I say, before giving up and scribbling “have a great summer” into the corner of the page.
C HAPTER T EN
Looking out the window of Carmel’s car, there’s no light except for stars and the pale glow of the city behind us. Thomas waited for the new moon. He said it was the best time for channeling. He also said that it would help if we were near the place where Anna crossed over, so we’re headed for the wreckage of her old Victorian. It fits. It makes sense. But the thought of it makes my mouth dry, and Thomas is going to explain everything once we get there, because I could barely sit still to listen back at the shop.
“You sure you’re up for this, Cas?” Carmel asks, peering at me in the rearview mirror.
“I have to be,” I say, and she nods.
When Carmel decided to do the ritual with us, I was surprised. Ever since that day in the hall, when I saw the detachment lurking behind her eyes, I haven’t been able to look at her the same way. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was hallucinating. Three hours of sleep riddled with dreams of your girlfriend killing herself will do that to you.
“This might not work at all, you know,” Thomas says.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re trying, right? That’s all we can do.” My words and voice sound reasonable. Sane. But that’s because I don’t have anything to worry about. It’s going to work. Thomas is strung tight as a violin, and you don’t need a tuning fork to feel the waves of power coming off of him. Like Aunt Riika said, he’s more than witch enough.
“Guys,” he says. “After this is over, can we go get a burger or something?”
“You’re thinking about food now?” Carmel asks.
“Hey, you haven’t spent the last three days fasting and doing herbal rue steams and drinking nothing but Morfran’s gross chrysanthemum purification potions.” Carmel and I grin at each other in the mirror. “It isn’t easy becoming a vessel. I’m freaking starving.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “Dude, when this is over, I’ll buy you the whole damn menu.”
The car goes quiet as we turn down Anna’s road. Part of me expects to round the corner and have the house curl into our vision, still standing, still rotting on its crumbling foundation. Instead there’s empty space. Carmel’s headlights shine into the driveway, and the driveway leads to nothing.
After the house imploded, the city came out and cleared the debris in an effort to determine the underlying cause of the blast. They never found it, though true to form, they didn’t really try. They poked around in the basement and shrugged their shoulders and filled it in with dirt. Now everything that was left is concealed
When there’s a tap on my shoulder and I turn around to see Cait Hecht, my botched date from two weeks ago, I almost back into my locker.
“Hey, Cas,” she smiles. “Sign my yearbook?”
“Absolutely,” I say, and take it, scrambling to think of something personal but all that goes through my brain is “have a neat summer.” I write her name and then a comma. What now? “Sorry about the brush-off, but you reminded me of a girl I killed”? Or maybe, “It never would have worked. The girl I love would disembowel you.”
“So, are you doing anything cool this summer?” she asks.
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe travel around a bit more.”
“But you’ll be back here in the fall?” Her brows are raised politely, but it’s just small talk. Carmel says Cait started dating Quentin Davis two days after the coffee shop. I was relieved to hear it, and am relieved now that she doesn’t seem upset in the least.
“That is a very good question,” I say, before giving up and scribbling “have a great summer” into the corner of the page.
C HAPTER T EN
Looking out the window of Carmel’s car, there’s no light except for stars and the pale glow of the city behind us. Thomas waited for the new moon. He said it was the best time for channeling. He also said that it would help if we were near the place where Anna crossed over, so we’re headed for the wreckage of her old Victorian. It fits. It makes sense. But the thought of it makes my mouth dry, and Thomas is going to explain everything once we get there, because I could barely sit still to listen back at the shop.
“You sure you’re up for this, Cas?” Carmel asks, peering at me in the rearview mirror.
“I have to be,” I say, and she nods.
When Carmel decided to do the ritual with us, I was surprised. Ever since that day in the hall, when I saw the detachment lurking behind her eyes, I haven’t been able to look at her the same way. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was hallucinating. Three hours of sleep riddled with dreams of your girlfriend killing herself will do that to you.
“This might not work at all, you know,” Thomas says.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re trying, right? That’s all we can do.” My words and voice sound reasonable. Sane. But that’s because I don’t have anything to worry about. It’s going to work. Thomas is strung tight as a violin, and you don’t need a tuning fork to feel the waves of power coming off of him. Like Aunt Riika said, he’s more than witch enough.
“Guys,” he says. “After this is over, can we go get a burger or something?”
“You’re thinking about food now?” Carmel asks.
“Hey, you haven’t spent the last three days fasting and doing herbal rue steams and drinking nothing but Morfran’s gross chrysanthemum purification potions.” Carmel and I grin at each other in the mirror. “It isn’t easy becoming a vessel. I’m freaking starving.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “Dude, when this is over, I’ll buy you the whole damn menu.”
The car goes quiet as we turn down Anna’s road. Part of me expects to round the corner and have the house curl into our vision, still standing, still rotting on its crumbling foundation. Instead there’s empty space. Carmel’s headlights shine into the driveway, and the driveway leads to nothing.
After the house imploded, the city came out and cleared the debris in an effort to determine the underlying cause of the blast. They never found it, though true to form, they didn’t really try. They poked around in the basement and shrugged their shoulders and filled it in with dirt. Now everything that was left is concealed
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