A Quill Ladder (7 page)

“
Well, Abbey and I can
’
t do anything at this point in time. You
’
re the only one of us who isn
’
t in lockdown. You could call Dr. Ford yourself, or ask Mom or Dad to get you a copy of the map.
”

Mark blinked.
“
I do not use the telephone.
”

Simon gave a wry smile.
“
I
’
m with you on that one. You could go by Dr. Ford
’
s office and see if he
’
s there, while we
’
re at school tomorrow and Mom and Dad are at work.
”

It occurred to Abbey then that she had no idea how Mark passed his time during the day while they were out. She knew he had been asked to start walking Farley around the block in the midmorning on school days, and just this past week, she had seen him head out tentatively on Sunday with Farley firmly latched to a leash. It seemed a bit odd, really, that Mark was living with them instead of with another relative, especially since Mark somehow possessed the energy that fueled the stones. If he wasn
’
t present, then the stones wouldn
’
t work, and her mother wouldn
’
t have to worry about her kids
—
or anyone else
—
using them.

But then again, if her mother was using the stones herself, it made sense to keep Mark around. Abbey wished she could stop feeling so uncomfortable about the motives of the adults around her.

“
Going to Dr. Ford
’
s office would require taking public transit. I am not allowed to take public transit alone,
”
Mark said.

Simon went to place a hand on Mark
’
s shoulder but then seemed to think twice about it.
“
Mark, you
’
re twenty-six, and I know you can do it. We can give you directions. I think it would be good for you.
”

“
Germs,
”
said Mark.

“
You could take some hand sanitizer,
”
Abbey said.

“
Dr. Ford is not a trusted adult,
”
Mark said.

“
True, but the college is a public place. He
’
s going to be careful in a public place,
”
Simon replied.

Mark held his eyebrows in a knot.
“
Think about it,
”
Simon said.
“
I
’
ll leave written directions on your desk tomorrow morning.
”

Mark nodded silently, retrieved his papers from the desk, and backed out of the room. He darted a slightly panicked look at Ocean, who had settled on the bed and was cleaning her face with slow deliberate licks to her paws. Abbey scooped the fluffy cat into her arms and buried her face in Ocean
’
s delicate grey fur, then followed Mark to the door and set Ocean down in the hall beside him. She smiled at Mark and thought she saw a nervous upward turn of his lips in reply before he turned and trudged down the hall to the stairs to the crypt.

Abbey closed the door and turned back to Simon.

“
What are we going to do about Caleb?
”

Simon shook his head.
“
I dunno. Let
’
s sleep on it and decide tomorrow after school.
”

The music in Caleb
’
s room abruptly ceased and Abbey looked at Simon
’
s bedside table clock. Eleven o
’
clock. Their absolute
“
lights out
”
time. Within a few minutes, the TV would go off downstairs and their parents would check to make sure they were in bed.

She dropped her voice to a whisper.
“
I still have to talk to you about the list.
”

Simon crowded her in the direction of his doorway, the faint pulse of teenage sweat and manhood always around him.
“
Tomorrow,
”
he said.

Abbey floundered around in her bed all night, drifting in and out of sleep. Her first lesson in witchcraft. Tomorrow. She should decline it. Say
“
thanks but no thanks
”
to Ian. Besides, how would he really instruct them without her parents catching them? Was what Ian had told them really true? And what should they do about Caleb? She rolled back and forth in her bed, fretting about all of it, while Wallace, alarmed by the unusual amount of nighttime activity, scuttled about in his cage.

Yet somehow the fierce pull of the stones, or witchcraft, had her in its thrall, and she wanted that first lesson.

Coventry still lay in the deep dark of a November morning when Abbey heard the slight click of the front door opening. She darted a look at her clock: 5:00 a.m. She rose from her bed silently and walked over to peer out the window through the small crack that lay between the blind and the window frame. Sure enough, just as Caleb had said, there was her mother, heading out into the bleak early morning.

And right behind her mother, his freckled face white in the streetlight, was Caleb.

A ripple of shock crept down Abbey
’
s back. Caleb was using the stones with their mother. Was this the first time? Or had he been doing it all along? And why?

And why hadn
’
t he told her?

She turned and looked at her clothes draped over the back of her computer chair. She still had time to follow them. She could wake Simon. She sat heavily on her bed with a thump. But if they were caught, they would be in a world of trouble.

She allowed herself to lie down briefly, studying the plastic glow-in-the dark stars she had carefully glued to her ceiling in the form of constellations many years ago. She let her eyes rest on Aquila, the eagle, the constellation she had used as a guide just a few short weeks ago to find her way back to the stones. It had given her some comfort then to know that the stones took them to a world that lay under the same set of stars that this world did. But now that it was November, Aquila would be too low on the horizon to be seen.

Was it really possible that there were a multitude of different timelines populated by people going about their days and nights all under the same canvas of stars? How did those timelines intersect? Or did they? And if they worked as Everett
’
s Many Worlds Hypothesis suggested, wouldn
’
t the witches who were trying to get to the alternate timeline already exist in that timeline, and likely be unhappy about the sudden arrival of their doubles? The Temporal Merging Hypothesis of time travel suggested that when encountering one
’
s past self, a person would simply merge with him or her. Differing past events caused by the time traveler would likewise merge with the original events such that the outcome of the events would remain the same as they had been originally, thereby eliminating paradox. But this only worked with a single timeline.

None of it made any sense.

Abbey awoke with a start to the clatter of her father brewing coffee in the kitchen; she must have fallen back to sleep. Would her mother and Caleb emerge from their rooms, feigning the sleepy-eyed look of morning? Did her father know what they were doing?

She rose from her bed and sat at her computer desk. Their phone calls, emails, and texts were being monitored. She flicked on her MacBook and entered her password.

She knew Jake
’
s email by heart, even though she had never used it. Perhaps he had changed it. Perhaps the one he had used to make plans with Mantis had just been a temporary one. She should probably set up a new account for herself. But knowing her parents, they would be able to track that too.

Envelope-to: [email protected]

Date: Tues, 20 November 2012 06:57:03 -0700

From: Abbey Sinclair [email protected]

Subject: How are things

To: [email protected]

Hi Jake,

I was wondering if you still needed tutoring on that physics assignment. Let me know.

Abbey

The email seemed ridiculous. It was too vague. But if she told Jake that Ian and the others were looking for him, her parents would know she had talked to Ian, which seemed like a sure route to trouble. She needed to talk to Jake in person. But he was Becca
’
s boyfriend, and even emailing him would lead to hysterics and a dramatic ex-BFFing. Maybe she could convince Becca to bring him to Coventry High for a game or event. The Snowflake Dance was in twenty days. Abbey never went to dances, but it might be her only chance to talk to Jake.

At the prospect of donning a dress and milling around in the dark with all the other grade nine girls, Abbey hit send, and the email departed with its usual whoosh.

Abbey dressed and was about to head to the kitchen when she heard the ping of a new email.

Envelope-to: [email protected]

Date: Tues, 20 November 2012 07:7:29 -0700

From: Fly Kid [email protected]

Subject: Re: How are things

To: [email protected]

Thanks. That would be great. Meet me in the physics lab at 12:05.

Abbey
’
s fingers trembled and she hit delete immediately. Meet Jake. In broad daylight in the physics lab. Somehow that seemed more filled with risk than using the stones, learning magic, and jumping timelines combined.

At school, Abbey tried to concentrate on the shuffle of subjects
—
physics, chemistry, English, drama. She was way ahead of her class in physics and chemistry, and rather than conducting more research and reading ahead as she usually did, she spent her first two periods doodling almost aimlessly. Russell Andrews
’
s pale blue eyes flicked past her on a constant rotation, like a lighthouse making its requisite turns. He hadn
’
t talked to her since that day when he
’
d invited her to the student council meeting, but he was definitely watching her, and she occasionally felt the brush of his arm when he passed behind her lab stool and glanced over her shoulder at her notebook. He could be planning to throw a curse at her at any moment. Russell
’
s aunt had been elected to city council, which had resulted in some low, harsh-sounding conversations between her parents concerning ethics and intelligence.

What had her future self been seeking to tell her? Russell Andrews/ALICE. Russell
’
s father owned the largest mining company in the Midwest. Would he eventually mine aluminum, for Aluminum Ice? That was the obvious inference. But what did that have to do with her, or the stones? No, there was more.

She spent her English class period trying to compose a story, but it kept coming out as a fantastical tale regarding a sister and brothers who used a set of stones to time travel. Did she lack imagination, or did she require therapy?

Abbey
’
s pencil-thin, red-lipped drama teacher spent much of drama class regarding Abbey with mystified and hostile sadness as Abbey moved stiffly across the stage and botched her lines, while Caleb, Ms. Verigan
’
s favorite student, gave her strange looks as he waited in the wings for his closing soliloquy.

Finally, noon came, and Abbey bolted down the hall with a quivering heart. The physics lab was on the main floor. Most kids would be in the cafeteria, but still, the risk of being seen with Jake was high. The lab was deserted, and Abbey sank into one of the seats. Maybe he had just been playing with her.

When Jake tapped on the window, she nearly jumped. She started to walk over to the window, but he pointed toward the alley behind the school, then disappeared.

Leaving the grounds was against the rules, and other than skipping school three weeks ago, Abbey was not in the habit of breaking rules, in part because, as evidenced by her trembling legs and nauseated stomach, she was very poor at it. She should probably tell Simon or Caleb where she was going, but for some reason she decided not to.

Jake stood with his back to her in the alley, his dark hair curling around the top of his red baseball jacket. He turned when he heard the crunch of gravel under her feet, and Abbey
’
s heart performed a small skip. He and Becca couldn
’
t be all
that
serious.

He gave her a wary smile.

“
I
’
ve had visitors,
”
he said.

“
Let me guess,
”
she said.
“
Six foot three, hairy and tattooed.
”