The Zodiac Collector Page 17

Outside, rain pelts the world, slicking away the memory of the day.

  I stumble to my bed and collapse on the mattress, glaring at the trinket. “What have you done?”

  My lungs go all wheezy again. At this rate, I’ll run out of medicine in a week rather than a month. I take a hit of albuterol anyway and curl into a shuddering ball of panic.

  Castor wiggles in his bed and whines. Pollux rolls on his back and wags his tail. At least both dogs are here. I take it as a good sign.

  “Poor pups. Here. See Mary?” I kneel next to them, my knees resting on the hardwood floor, and show them the trinket.

  They hop up in unison and sniff at it. Pollux barks and practically leaps into my hand. I close my fingers over the half-Gemini symbol and clutch it to my heart. Fresh tears slide down my cheeks. Castor and Pollux plant their front paws on my arms, bodies wagging as much as their tails.

  “It is her, isn’t it?” I pat their heads and stand. I search my dresser drawer for a scarf. I wrap the trinket in it and slide it into my pocket. “I promise, I’ll get you back.”

  Dad’s heavy footsteps stomp up the stairs. He belches in the hallway. A moment later, the door to his room slams.

  I watch the clock for a full half an hour before creeping downstairs, sticking to the wall—it’s my best Spider-Man impression yet—to avoid the creaky spots. The living-room door is open and Mom’s music isn’t blaring. I duck my head in to see if she’s there. Nope. I bite my lip. She could be anywhere in the house.

  In the foyer, I stay perfectly still, focusing on any tick or hitch in the house. The thrumming of my pulse drowns out anything I might catch. I can stand here forever or I can move.

  I choose to move, but I hold my breath until I reach the front door. The hinges creak and I scan the foyer, expecting Mom or Dad to hop out of the shadows to tackle me.

  Halfway down the driveway Dad’s mega-angry voice stops me from the porch. “Anne Devans. Get inside the house. Now.”

  Was he at the window waiting for me to sneak out? Since when did he turn into a night watchman? I want to scream. A lot. Instead, I swallow my frustration and scuff my way back to the porch as a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky. Crackling thunder erupts. It’s like the weather knows my mood.

  Dad grabs me by the arm and jerks me inside. “Get up there. I told you repeatedly to go to bed. I have no choice but to ground you.”

  “Dad, no, you don’t understand.” I lace my fingers and slap them to the top of my head. “Castor and Pollux,” I mutter.

  Another boom of thunder shakes the earth.

  “I do understand. William is a nice boy, but you don’t have permission to hang out with him all night. Or sneak out of the house. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Is it because of your birthday?”

  “No, Mary’s—”

  “Enough! I’ll call his parents in the morning. You’re grounded.” He holds out his hand. “Come inside.”

  I stare at him, immobile. He’s never grounded me before. Heck, he’s never been so nosy before either.

  “Anne.” His green eyes flash with fury.

  I can’t refuse.

  He grabs hold of my arm and shoves me toward the stairs. “I hope your attitude improves by morning.”

  I hope I have a plan to save Mary by morning.

  Chapter Eighteen

  No one asks me about Mary all day. The teachers don’t say her name, or Shequan’s, during roll call. The other students don’t ask if she’s sick and no one mentions Shequan at all. During a study break I draft chants to invoke Libra and Aries instead of studying for the SAT. William, Evan, and I cross paths during lunch—so many students are preparing for the exam that we’re in different review groups—and agree to meet at the faire after the joust.

  I don’t bother going home after the final bell at two-thirty. The joust is at four, so I have some time to kill. Maybe I can catch the guys before they need to perform.

  The barn is full of activity. Horses are lined up along the main walkway, dressed in their tack and attached to the cross ties. Shequan’s dad races up and down the line, barking orders and checking to see if everything is in place. He’s focused, sharp as a ninja sword, and way too steady, considering his son is missing.

  If Zeena’s chant really did erase the evidence of her work, why do Evan and William and I remember? My lungs tighten. Maybe my counterchant protected our memories. Guess I have to be thankful to Castor and Pollux for that small gift. In a normal world, the police would be canvasing the area, missing child reports would be blowing up the news, and parents would be distraught at the loss of their son or daughter. In my world—a quirky, magickal world—no one even notices things have changed.

  I swallow a lump of terror. What a horrible thing, to be forgotten.

  “Anne!” William jogs up to me in his squire costume.

  I jump, startled into reality. William would remember me and so would Evan. “You’re already dressed.”

  “Yeah, I left early. Wanted to talk to Marcus before everything got really busy.” He tugs on his shirt and straightens his belt.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Awful.” The skittish mare at the front of the line knickers and paws into the dirt with her hoof. William pets her nose and she settles.

  “Tell me.” I drag my fingers through her white mane.

  He leans close and whispers in my ear, “He doesn’t remember Shequan.”

  My finger gets caught in a snag. I shake it out and try to unravel the twisted strands. “I figured.”

  “How?”

  “Z erased everyone’s minds,” I reason.

  “How come we can remember?” He slides his palm along the cross tie as he edges to a nearby stall.

  I join him. “I asked the Gemini twins to let us.”

  “Scary.”

  “Totally.”

  “Did anyone ask you about them at school?”

  “No. You?”

  “No.” He digs his booted toe into the dirt. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

  “You stole the words right out of my mouth. We have to figure out how to beat Z.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  I chew my cheek, eating the anxiety of what I’m about to say. “I have to talk with Gamma. She can help…after she kills me.”

  “Huh?” William squints with confusion.

  “I… Well, she’s mad at me for doing magick.”

  He gives a low whistle. “Things are pretty messed up.”

  I groan and flop against a stall door, propping my elbows on the edge and smacking my forehead on my arms. “And it’s all my fault.”

  William’s warm hand caresses my hair. He brushes it to the side and leans close to my ear. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That old witch did. And the way you stood up to her… Well, I’ve never seen anyone so brave.”

  I lift my forehead and glance sideways at him. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Listen, I wanted to run and hide like Jimmy Banks did after he tripped off the bus and landed with his pants around his ankles.”

  I giggle.

  He tugs on a strand of my hair. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

  Marcus calls for the knights and squires to get ready.

  William walks backwards to his position. “We’ll go to your Gamma’s after the joust.”

  Evan rushes by. “Hey, guys.”

  William gives him a bro punch to the arm. “We’ll catch up after the joust. I have some news.”

  “Cool,” he calls, sliding to a stop next to his knight’s horse.

  Marcus strides up to me. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Sorry.” I duck my head and skedaddle to the benches.

  Dad’s standing at the edge of the crowd. Odd—he doesn’t usually watch the joust. Unless he’s on the lookout for me. I use three maidens walking along the fence line as a human shield and slip behind a large oak tree on the opposite end of the hill. No need to run into him right now, considering I’m suppo
sed to be home, thinking over how wrong it was to be with William so late at night.

  A smart person would’ve developed some kind of disguise, but I’m not a smart person.

  The crowd cheers after the King and Queen are introduced. Next up are the knights. The guys really feed off it, yelling, “Huzzah!” and tasking their horses with tricks such as bowing, spinning on their hindquarters, or rearing. Usually, I’d get caught up in it too, but today I can’t. Instead of excitement, there’s a gaping dry socket of agony where Mary should be.

  During the ring joust, I leave my hiding spot and loop around the back side of the faire. Mary and I like this area the best. It has tarot and palm-reader tents tucked in among hemlock groves, near the woodcarvers, painters, and jewelry makers. Incense dances on the air, but not enough to make my asthma flare up. I enter a costume shoppe at the corner and head directly for the wall of masks. Some are frilly with feathers and sequins, in girly colors like pastel pink and sky blue. Others are grotesque with blood splotches sprayed across the surface or large hooked noses protruding out several inches. A few have horns, and a couple come with black or red contacts.

  I select a green mask with gold sequins bordering the edges. It’s large enough to cover my forehead and cheeks and has bands to fit around my head. At the end of the line of masks is a row of veils. I pick a black one. It comes with a strip of adhesive so I can attach it to the mask and either cover my entire face or let it drape down my back. Since I’m wearing a black peasant shirt, black jeans, and boots, the outfit looks complete and I can pass as any suited-up faire patron.

  The cashier is dressed in simple wench’s clothing—a chocolate bodice and brown skirt with a white shift underneath. Her hair is pulled into a braided knot and a flower crown adorns her head. She greets me with a friendly grin. “Good even, Anne. How fares thee?”

  “Well, thank you.” I plop the goods and twenty bucks on the counter.

  “Perchance thy Mathair will stop by?”

  “Mom’s working on the coronation gown.” I drop the faire speak.

  “Prithee, is it as comely as last year’s?”

  The freaking thing is ugly, but I can’t say that. “Aye.”

  She hands me some change. “Wouldst thou like a bag for thy wares?”

  “No, thank you.” I collect the mask and veil and exit the shoppe. Between two buildings, I edge the mask with adhesive and press the veil to the sticky side. It holds fast. I gather my hair in a low ponytail, stretch the elastic bands over my head, and spread the veil around me. The mask blocks my peripheral vision, closing me inside a molded restraint. Thieving claustrophobia sticks his spike-covered fingers down my throat and scratches at my lungs. I close my eyes and picture valiant air fending him away with her blade of oxygen and shield of calm.

  When the battle ends, I step into the path and wind my way to the jousting area. At a fork in the road, three of Mom’s biggest customers huddle together. They’re gabbing about the coronation ceremony.

  I dawdle by pretending to window-shop the wood carver’s wares. An elephant’s foot stands by the shoppe’s entrance. It has a wooden cover with several holes drilled into it. A cane is lodged in each hole. Each one depicts a different animal or creature—a lion, bear, alligator, and something that reminds me of Man-Bear-Pig from South Park.

  The one dressed in a crimson velvet Elizabethan gown has the loudest voice. “That woman is crazier than a loon. I’m scared to call her half the time. I never know if I’m getting wild Liz or mellow, medicated Liz.”

  I flinch.

  The woman dressed as a pirate chimes in. Her black, pointy hat is so wide her friends have to stand at least two feet away from her. “She is insane, but she makes some fine dresses.”

  I bite my lip against the pain of their razorblade tongues and wander closer, keeping my body at an angle to them.

  “And a drunk for a husband?” The lady in waiting fans herself with a painted silk fan.

  “He probably drinks because of her,” Victorian Lady snarks.

  “I feel bad for their daughter. All alone in that house with those two for parents.” Madame Pirate clucks her tongue.

  Daughter. Should be daughters, plural. Crows of misery land on my shoulders and cackle in my ears. Their talons dig into my flesh and their beaks snip at my eyes. I wipe the wetness of bitter tears from my cheeks and slink away, carrying the taunting black birds with me.

  The women glance at me as I walk by. None of them recognize me. The costume is perfect. I don’t have to worry about running into my drunk father and having him blow up.

  “Life is so hard, isn’t it, Anne?”

  The gravel in her voice scatters the crows of misery. Bats of fear flutter around my head in their place.

  To my right, a cloaked figure sits at a mosaic-inlaid table, her hood nearly covering her entire face. All that’s visible is her wide, wrinkly mouth, which is twisted in a satisfied, but cruel, smile.

  “Zeena,” I croak.

  A brisk wind blows my veil.

  “That’s right, child.” She lifts an arthritic hand to her hood and draws it back, exposing her cold eyes.

  My body quakes and my muscles tighten. A steady buzzing hums in my pocket. It’s the trinket. It’s Mary.

  The old woman closes her eyes and sniffs. “Your sister is near. Have you found her?” She opens her eyes. Her gaze impales me. “You don’t know how to get her out, do you?”

  “Tell me how to release her.”

  She cackles. “Why would I do that? Especially when I’m so close to completing my collection. All I need is you and Libra. How is your friend, William? He seems a wealth of untapped power. I sensed it swirling in his aura.” She extends her arm and makes a circle motion with her index finger. Her lips move rhythmically and a steady murmur rises from her.

  The wind picks up again and the sun goes under, slipping the world in shadow.

  A bolt of light erupts from her finger and lances me in the chest. She closes her hand into a fist and yanks her arm in. I jerk forward, tethered to her.

  “Come here, little Gemini.”

  The light rope between us is taut. Another tug brings me a step closer. I grab hold of it, scream at the instant blistering burn, and lean away. The rope expands around me in a net of crackling energy. Invisible hooks pierce me from the top of my skull to the bottom of my feet. They tear at my flesh, dragging me forward.

  I’m trapped. My head twists from side to side, my teeth gnashing from pain. No one pays us any attention. Don’t they see me struggling? Don’t they see the wire of light connecting us?

  “Relax, Anne. Let it happen. This pain will end if you give in to me.”

  I whimper.

  “No one will miss you. Come to me.”

  The buzzing in my pocket from the half-Gemini symbol grows into a scorching heat, as if I’m carrying a red-hot piece of coal. It and the tether anchor me, with the light rope and netting drawing me to Zeena, and the coal pulling me away.

  Both forces duel and I’m caught in the middle. Deep inside, my organs stretch and joints pop, separating and ripping apart. Every cell in my body is torn in half by a magickal buzz saw. I drop to my knees. “C-C-Castor…P-Polll-ux…help.”

  A bolt of white lightning zaps the tether, breaking it in half. Zeena’s end drops to the ground while the bit attached to me flutters away like ash. I fly backward, arms and legs flailing, and land in a heap across the footpath.

  The sorceress launches out of her chair. “No!”

  A roll of thunder cuts off her cry.

  Patrons gasp and yelp in surprise. A dude dressed as Peter Pan stoops down and clamps a hand around my upper arm. He hauls me to my feet. “Better watch where you’re going.”

  “Y-yeah.” I’m panting and shaking, sweating from pain and terror. “M-mask b-blocks my v-vision.”

  “Do you need to sit down?” He smacks the dirt off my back.

  “No.” I twist away from him, sights locked onto Zeena.

  Folks
have already moved on from my impromptu break-dancing and crowd the path between us. The old witch stares at me, teeth bared in a sneer. She lifts her hands toward me and a white glow expands from her fingertips.

  I take my cue to run.

  * * *

  On the way to Gamma’s house, I quickly update William and Evan. “She’s still here. Almost got me, too.” I rub my arms as if it’ll erase the ache from my body. Red dots speckle every square inch of exposed skin.

  “Maybe you should put something on that. It looks painful.” William tucks the Zodiac spellbook under one arm and pushes my veil out of the way with his free hand.

  “Not sure if aloe trumps magick.” I take a quick peek down my shirt. A dark purple splotch marks where the tether smacked me. It itches worse than a raging case of hives.

  William cranes his neck to take a peek.

  I press the fabric tight against my collarbones. “Hey.”

  “Sorry.” His ears flush. “I wasn’t trying to get a glance at the goods, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  I trace my fingers along my collar. “Right, like I’m going to buy that.”

  His mouth twists into a smile and his dimples go live.

  Evan squeezes between us. “Why don’t you guys kiss and get it over with?”

  We stop short and gape at him.

  He shrugs. “What? William, you can’t stop talking about Anne, and Mary says Anne can’t stop talking about you, so make like Nike and Just Do It.”

  Gamma’s in the backyard, sitting on a wicker loveseat in her gazebo. Two chairs and a table with a glass top complete the set. “Girl, where have you been?”

  “I meant to drop the book off sooner, but I’ve been busy with the faire and studying.” Nothing like starting the conversation with two plump lies. I take the spellbook from William and set it on the table.

  “Been an awful lot of weather happening.” She props her feet on the table and stares me down.

  I ease into a chair. William grips my shoulder and Evan sits in the only free seat.

  “Know anything about it?” Gamma’s gaze slips to the book.

  I ball my hands into fists. “Gamma, I’ve really messed up.”

  “Tell me everything.”