02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers (25 page)

“This have anything to do with that secret you’ve been keeping?”

“Oh yeah. Now brace yourself ’cause this will totally freak your bean.” She takes a deep, excitable breath and begins. “You know how the McCarthy twins are exactly the same?”

“Hence the word
twins
,” I grumble.

“Yeah, well, they weren’t always.”

“Always what?”

“Twins. See, several years ago, Gracie McCarthy’s husband died. She was really distraught. Devastated, actually. She was deep in a depression when she was approached by a witch who offered to help her. Well, the witch was kinda new and subpar and screwed the whole thing up. And then—”

“Screwed what up?” I ask, bypassing my shock that she would speak so casually about a witch.

“Bringing the dead Mr. McCarthy back to life. Now stop interrupting. Anyway, Mr. McCarthy actually came back as a duck. You know, you’ve met him. Roy?”

I sit very still and stare at her. “Roy … the duck … is Mr. McCarthy?” I let this sink in. “But wait, there’s—”

“I’m getting to that part!” She’s snippy because I can’t keep my mouth shut. “So
there is Gracie with Mr. McCarthy, who is now a very crabby old duck. Gracie is none too happy about the situation, so she and the witch repeat the process and create a pal for Daffy and … prest-o change-o, Siegfried is born. More or less.”

Siegfried and Roy. Holy shit
.

My eyes swell with disbelief, and then it occurs to me that Bailey might be going to extremes to distract me from my problems. I don’t want to believe any of this but she seems so convincing.

“So all is well for Mr. McCarthy; he has someone to futz around with, but Gracie is lonely. Her depression nosedives, so the witch takes it to the next level. They get help from a friend who’s willing to make an avatar for Gracie. I’m fuzzy on the details but whatever they did worked, because out of nowhere, Gracie’s long-lost sister shows up. Only she doesn’t have a long-lost sister. They created a double for her. And that’s what we’re going to do for you.”

I flinch like I’ve been knocked upside the head. The band in the corner has completed their sound check and begins their first cover song, “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandy Warhols. I gaze absently at them, and then slowly shift back to Bailey. She’s waiting to see if the verbal lobotomy has affected my speech.

“You … can’t be serious,” I say, but she nods so I sit back and consider. With everything I’ve seen since moving to this town, it doesn’t seem that unbelievable. “But … who’s the witch?” I ask, and she leans closer and whispers, “Abigail Monroe,” and I nearly drop my teacup. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I yell over the music. She laughs.

“Why do you think I got her and the twins together to put a hex on your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.” I smirk. “But … how do
you
know all this?”

“Well, it just so happened to be my best friend they went to for help. Her Christian name is Alice White but her street name is High Alice. She’s clairvoyant, among other things. Seriously gifted. She was the school photographer last year and worked for the
Gazette
. But she graduated and left town.”

I took her job?

“What do you mean her ‘street name’?”

She shrugs. “Just how everybody knows her. Most people thought she was a stoner. But really she had visions and shit. Serious kinda stuff.”

I think back to all the times I’ve seen the McCarthy twins. They always seemed happy enough. So as much as the idea of having another
me
running around gives me the willies, I think it’s worth a try.

“So what’s your plan?” I ask, now fully invested in the possibility that I might have a way to handle school
and
become a spirit walker. If I have a double to do the academic heavy lifting, I can concentrate on my sessions with Rama and the demon hunters. I’ll be a spirit walker by Christmas.

“First step is to talk to Abigail and the twins, which I did tonight. They said we definitely need High Alice or we’re risking a duck infestation. They don’t know where to find her but said her great-aunt will know.”

I slump, feeling the impending voice of doom. “And just where in the world would we find the great-aunt of High Alice?” I sound a bit sarcastic, like we’ve been sent to find the Wizard of Oz.

“You tell me. You work for her.” Bailey grins because she’s toying with me.

“Are you joking? Miss Minnie is High Alice’s great-aunt? Well, that’s convenient. So, will Miss Minnie know where she is?”

“Uh, yeah. Miss Minnie’s clairvoyant, too.”

I scoff, completely stunned. And then I remember all the odd comments Miss Minnie has made over the past months, how she seemed to know things she shouldn’t. Even my first day in Haven Hurst when she knew me before I introduced myself.

A thought occurs to me and I ask Bailey if Alice White is related to Sheriff White.

“He’s only her dad.”

“Wait—did High Alice tell the sheriff that I was coming to town the night he pulled me over and gave me that bogus ticket?” Bailey grins. “Holy shit! Are you freaking kidding me?”

“High Alice told me she had a replacement coming for her old job. Said she was leaving Miss Minnie and the
Gazette
in good hands. Guess she knew about you well ahead of time. She must’ve told her dad before she left town.” Bailey shrugs like it’s no biggie.

The night Sheriff White pulled me over I wasn’t speeding, so he told me to buckle up my dog. I always thought it was a pretty flimsy excuse for stopping someone. But if he hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t have reached the accident when I did. I wouldn’t have seen Michael in spirit form.

Hmm
.

Bailey plops her feet onto the coffee table and crosses her ankles. “Look, I know it’s a lot to swallow. But the way I see it, we’ve got the perfect opportunity to help you become a spirit walker. And the next time you see a lost soul, you’ll be ready, right?”

I think of Colin Firth, crying out for help only to fade into a black smudge at my fingertips. I was so upset and furious with Dante that I wouldn’t let him speak to me
afterward. The anguish that I felt then returns like a tornado inside me. Dante and Michael have gone out of their way to stop me from becoming a spirit walker.
Well, boys, comrade tchotchke has a plan of her own
.

* * *

Bailey and I take my tea on the road and shuffle down to the
Gazette
. It’s slow going because I have copious amounts of pain to deal with. The first night of Winter Carnival is winding down and most everyone has gone. We don’t expect the office to be open but Bailey wants to leave a note on the door. When the paperboy comes in around four a.m., he’ll find a note that says we want to speak to Miss Minnie first thing in the morning. That’s the plan.

To our surprise, the lights are on, and Miss Minnie is waiting behind the counter. Bailey gives me a look that says
Fah-reeeee-ky
, and then we step inside. The bell on the door chimes above our heads, and we quickly close the door. I think about all the bizarre revelations I’ve had tonight—the ducks and the McCarthy twins, Miss Minnie being clairvoyant—and I laugh nervously.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this
.

“I understand you girls want to find Alice.” Miss Minnie’s voice is grave, and my smile slides off. I want to go into details but she holds up a hand. “I understand completely. That’s not the issue. You see, Alice has gotten herself into a sticky situation. She …” Miss Minnie frowns and rubs a hand over her knobby knuckles. She’s having a deep, disturbing thought. She pulls out a tissue kept inside her sweater sleeve, and dabs her eyes. “It’s La Croix.”

“What’s La Croix?” Bailey asks.

“It’s a club in New York, and Alice … well, I suppose she has her reasons for being there. If you want to find her, I would look there, except …”

“Except what?” I ask, stepping up to the counter. I’m determined not to let anything interfere now that we have a plan. It may be whacked but it’s the only plan we’ve got.

Miss Minnie fidgets. She’s hesitant and uncomfortable. She decides not to share her concerns and turns away. I clutch her arm.

“Please, Miss Minnie! This is important. The most important thing I’ve ever done.” We stare at each other while a strange feeling flutters through my hand and up my arm as though something is passing from her into me. I pull away but the feeling continues, swirling into my thoughts and leaving a sensation of awareness. I feel a calm
certainty settle deep inside me. “I think you know what I mean. I think you’ve known all along. You know why I came to this town. And you know why I have to find Alice.”

She blinks those old, watery blue eyes that I’ve come to love. Resignation passes over her features, and I understand that she has known
everything
all along.
She
was the one, not High Alice, who told the sheriff to pull me over. She told him to write a note on the back of the ticket, sending me here for work. She wanted to keep an eye on me. She sent me to take photos in the courthouse the night Michael saved me when I jumped out the window. Everything changed that night, and I don’t know how or why, only that Miss Minnie has known all along.

“I trust you, Miss Minnie. So please,
please
trust me.”

She nods, acknowledging that I’m putting things together. But not everything.

“You don’t understand, child. Things have changed unexpectedly—Alice has changed. She might not be able to help in the way you want. But … she does have the book you need. I suppose if … if you were to get the book, you could … it’s just that … Alice lives in a back room of La Croix. You can’t get inside; it’s a nightclub and—”

“We’ll get fake IDs,” Bailey says like we’re picking up milk from the store. Miss Minnie looks grave.

“That’ll do no good. They don’t check IDs. It’s invitation only. Girls, La Croix is a private club … for demons.”

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed feeling like someone dropped an anvil on my head.
A private club for demons? Are you freaking kidding me?

Miss Minnie said we needed High Alice or at least her book to make me a temporary two. She said La Croix was invitation only, and we either had to be demons or had to be invited by demons to enter. She wrote down the name of High Alice’s book, and then I thanked her and told her we’d be in touch about it. I yanked Bailey out of the office before she shot off her big mouth. I knew exactly what she was thinking, and she said as much the minute we stepped onto the sidewalk.

“The solution is obvious, Sophia. We have to ask Dante and Vaughn to get us in.”

Hell no
. “I’m not speaking to Dante, so … solution not obvious.”

In fact, we have no solution at all. Our plan has hit the proverbial brick wall. So now I’m sitting here pondering ways to summon Rama. He wasn’t here when I got home, and I desperately need to talk to him. I have to tell him that I lost Colin Firth and, oh by the way, I also really,
really
need to sneak into a den of demons, find a spell book, and make another me. I’ll use simple words and short sentences so he doesn’t keel over in a dead faint.

Hmm, how does one summon an Ascended Master anyway?

I open and close the closet door a million times but he doesn’t appear, so I give up. I ready myself for bed, moving cautiously and with significant pain. My ribs are still sore from Teriza’s beating. I shoo Sundance out, afraid he’ll bump me in the middle of the night, and then I gingerly maneuver myself between the covers. Luckily, Dad was in bed when I snuck in. He’d freak if he saw my fat lip. I’m planning to use some makeup magic in the morning.

It’s been a grueling day, and I sink into the mattress, exhausted. Even my bones ache. I let my eyelids fall, my mind drift, and I soon slip into a deep sleep with disturbing dreams. Mostly, I dream of Colin Firth crying and being devoured by darkness. It rips me apart all over again. I twitch and toss my head, groaning.

I want to help! Let me help! Don’t go!

A warm hand caresses my forehead, easing away the troubling thoughts. Then it
brushes my hair aside and cups my cheek. I sigh, smiling. I like this hand; it’s comforting. The hand leaves and the bed shifts, and I feel soft kisses where the hand had just been. They trail down my face. “Mmm,” I moan and turn my head, welcoming the affection.
This is a dream more to my liking
.

The kisses continue along my cheek, drifting gently over my mouth. Warm lips linger and tingle, and I open my mouth, begging for more.
I want more
. The kisses are light and delicious, soft, warm lips.
Yes. This feels so good. I want this
. Then I feel a weight on me and I grimace. Sharp pain shoots through my rib cage and I blink quickly, forcing my eyes open.

“Dante!”

Green eyes shine in the dim light as Dante grins down at me. He shifts his weight so I can breathe easier but it hardly matters. I’m gasping in shock.

Oh my God, Dante was kissing me! How could I have been so careless?

I pause to see what effect his kisses might have had. The last time he kissed me, fire rolled through my body, burning everything it touched and killing me.

Thankfully, I feel nothing but his weight on me, and anger. I struggle but my arms are pinned beneath the blankets. I stop and stare at him. His face is calm and serious.
Are his eyes swirling?
No.
Wait, are they?
I can’t be sure. I don’t want them to swirl, and I try to look away but can’t.

I become aware of the heat from his body; Dante was always so hot, as though his blood was boiling. I feel my own blood stir beneath him as I stare deep into his eyes. Dante is dangerously handsome, and has a way of making my pulse jump without effort. It’s the way he looks at me, like he is now, as though he is remembering me from another life. As though we are lovers and I’m not running
from
him but
to
him, with love and affection. With desire.

Somehow this seems familiar, seeing him above me, feeling his weight on me. Far in the distance, I hear the music box begin its tinkling melody.
Our song
. I blink lazily, my eyelids drooping, my body relaxing beneath his. I feel anesthetized.