Devoured (21 page)

Remy solidifies and I hear the roar of the river echo around the room. My breath frosts in the air as the cold increases.

“Really bad apple!” Remy says.

“Arianna, hurry! Make the wish!” the mirror calls. “Quickly!”

“I wish—”Ari starts to say, but Remy stamps her foot and a wall of water swirls around Ari.

Remy looks at Ari with hate in her eyes.
“I said no!”

The water engulfs Ari, forcing its way into her mouth and nose. Her hands flies to her throat as her eyes bulge.

“Remy, stop!”
I scream as I realize Ari is drowning. I make my way toward the water and force my arm through the freezing whirlpool. Ari reaches out one hand, but as our fingers touch, I realize I can’t save her—I won’t. Nothing can save Arianna Roy from herself, and no one is safe if she lives.

I pull my arm back, and my body shakes as the room grows even colder. Large snowflakes fly around, and the whirlpool freezes into a frothy wall of slush until Ari is finally encased in solid ice.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking at Ari’s wide frozen eyes staring out blankly. One clawed hand is still clutched at her throat. I wouldn’t have wished for this ending in a million years.

Remy smiles. “No more bad apples.”

“Remy …” I don’t know what to say to her. I didn’t mean for Ari to die, but at the same time, I can’t say that I’m sorry either.

Remy plops herself down onto the rug at the base of the ice wall. “Meggy, where’s Daddy?” she asks wearily.

I walk over to my sister and kneel down. I smooth out my bloodstained skirt and hold out my hand. Remy slides her chilly hand into mine.

I catch my breath as shivers wrack my body. I wait for some awful vision to hit me, but there’s nothing—just Remy and me sitting on the floor like we’re getting ready for a tea party.

“Daddy’s waiting for you,” I say. “You just have to look for the light. He’s there, and Nicki too—they’re waiting.”

A glow surrounds Remy, and she rubs her eyes with her fists. “I’m tired, Meggy.”

“Go to Daddy and you’ll feel better.”

The glow gets brighter, and for half a second I wish Remy would stay.

“Are you gonna …” Remy trails off, turning her head toward the growing light.

This is it—this is the last time I’ll be with my sister. “I’m gonna be fine, Remy,” I choke out.

Remy stands up and brushes her wet bangs back, squinting into the light.

“Remy,” a voice calls out.

“Daddy?”

“I love you, Remy,” I sob as the light engulfs her.

She looks back at me. “I love you too, Meggy.”

Remy fades from view, and the room warms. The ice starts to drip and then turns to water, dumping Ari’s lifeless body to the floor.

It’s over now. It’s finally over. I pick up the desk phone to dial 911.

Before I dial the numbers, I look up at the mirror. The face is gone, but I’m sure it can see me anyway.

“Are you happy now, you miserable hunk of glass? Is this what you wanted?” I say, pointing to Ari’s body. My lip curls up in disgust. “Just you wait. I know someone who’ll be more than happy to make three wishes for me, and believe me, you’ll be sorry you screwed with my life.”

TWENTY

Luke and I duck under the police tape and he runs the flashlight across Miss Patty’s office until he zeros in on the mirror.

It’s been two weeks since I was last here. I wanted to get back sooner, but Luke thought we should wait until things cooled down to lessen the chance of running into the police.

We stand on the other side of the tape, and Luke puts a hand on my shoulder, giving me strength.

“Are you up for this?” he asks.

I nod. With Miss Patty’s confession, the excavators have already dismantled six rides and recovered the bodies she knew about, including Kayla’s. There’s no telling how many more bodies they’ll find that were buried before she met Mr. Roy.

Luke and I researched missing persons from the area, and there have been at least a dozen over the years—including Mr. Roy’s older sister, who co-owned the park until she vanished, or as the article we read states, “ran off to Europe.” And I’d bet money someone’s remains are stashed under Hansel and Gretel’s Haunted Forest.

“Let’s do it,” I say. We walk slowly up to the mirror. I stare at our reflection illuminated by the flashlight and can’t help thinking that Nicki and Kayla would still be alive if it weren’t for the thing inside. I know the genie wasn’t responsible for the actual killings, but from what I’ve seen, it certainly encouraged them. And if it’s as old as I think it is, it’s no doubt been causing misery and murder for centuries.

“I’m back,”
I say to the mirror.

The face appears, and Luke jumps. “Whoa,” he whispers as he takes my hand.

I’d warned Luke about it, but in the darkness of the room, its glowing eyes and smoky face look more chilling than ever.

Its lips turn up in a hungry smile. “Ah, company. How delightful. I’ve found it very tedious hanging here with no one to talk to. Time moves so slowly when there’s nothing to occupy the mind.”

I scoff. “I’m sure the police would’ve loved to have chatted with you!”

The genie arches one of its dark eyebrows. “Actually the police did prove to be entertaining for a bit. Their theories about Miss Arianna’s death were quite amusing.”

Luke and I exchange looks.

The coroner determined that Ari had drowned, but he was unable to figure out how it happened on dry land. The CSI team identified river water in her lungs, and Patty— God bless her—stuck to the story that she didn’t know how things transpired, but that I came in
after
the fact. Arianna Roy’s murder will no doubt have them puzzled for years.

“Yeah, so glad Ari’s death provided you with some fun,” I say. “Anyway, it’s time you found a new abode, but first we have a few questions.”

The mirror smiles, and goose bumps break out on my arms. “Answering questions is my specialty.”

“Why are there two of you? I reread ‘Snow White,’ and there should be only one mirror.”

Its smile fades; it’s obviously disappointed by such a mundane query. “Mr. Roy’s great-grandmother liked to consult with me often, and thought it would be easier if there was one in the park and one in her home. She wished it to be so.”

I scowl. “Oh, I’ll bet you just
loved
having an extra opportunity to mess with her head.”

“I am only here to serve,” it insists.

“We can get rid of that when we, you know …” Luke says to me.

I nod.

“Is there anything else you’d like to divine?” the mirror asks politely. “I can show you people you might be curious about.”

“No, I think we’re good,” Luke says.

“Wait,” I say as a question pops up in my mind. “I am actually curious about something. Can you show me who Samantha Lee Darling’s soul mate is?”

“Oh, but you might not like the answer,” the mirror says, though there is a glint in its eyes that tells me this is what it does best—playing with people’s emotions.

“I think I can handle it.”

Ryan appears on the surface of the glass and I smile.

“This pleases you?” the mirror asks, its face reappearing, the sparkle in its eyes replaced by a look of confusion.

“Yes, actually, it does.”

Luke gives me a look. “Are you ready
now
?”

“Um …” I say as my thoughts race. Despite what I know about the mirror, the fact that it can show me
anything
makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be so quick to carry out our plan. I could see Mom—see what she’s really thinking when she’s alone. See if she really meant what she said about becoming a family, about wanting to be part of my life again. And Luke? There are a million questions I could ask about Luke.

I look up and see the mirror’s eyes boring into mine and catch my breath. This is what it does: It offers you glimpses of your world that you weren’t meant to see, and then it destroys you with them.

I swallow hard. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Luke clears his throat. “We did some research, and without a handy lava pit to chuck you into, we don’t have the power to destroy you—at least not the original you.”

“And we don’t think it’s safe to let you influence anyone else either,” I continue. “So we got Miss Patty to agree to donate you to the nursing home where my father lived.”

The mirror raises its eyebrows, and I smile. “But we’ll have to take away your power first.”

The mirror scoffs. “I was placed in this mirror by the strongest of magics, and nothing can diminish my powers.”

“Well, we’re not really taking away your power,” I say. “We’re just going to prevent you from
using
it.”

I squeeze Luke’s hand and he nods. “I
wish
that you can no longer show your face or communicate with another person until the end of time,” Luke says.

The mirror’s mouth drops open. “No, wai—” The surface flashes with light, and then our reflections reappear.

“One down, two to go,” I say.

“I
wish
the second mirror you created was destroyed.”

The light flashes again.

“And finally, I
wish
that you are unable to fulfill any wishes inadvertently made in your presence.”

The glass flashes once more, and I know it’s over—finally, finally over. Luke turns the flashlight off and takes me in his arms. I hear his heart beating, and feel safe at last.

Since Ari and Mr. Roy died, I’ve read all of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales. I’ve tried to guess which ones might be true and which ones might still be unfolding after all this time. But as I read those stories filled with beasts, magic, and murder, I saw that there was always the side trip through hell that came before the happy ending. I think I can safely say I’ve lived that hell, and it’s time for my happily ever after.

I tilt my chin up and kiss Luke.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.” I lay my head back on his chest and think that one of these days I’ll be smiling like the girl in the painting in his room.

SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ANOTHER NOVEL BY AMANDA MARRONE:

UNINVITED

I close my eyes, hoping he won’t come tonight. It’s later than usual. I hope he’s given up, or just gone, and I can finally sleep. Cool air blows through the window, and I marvel at my bravery. Or stupidity. It’s opened just a crack, no more than an inch. But until tonight I’ve kept it closed, so I know he’ll be wondering what it means.

I listen for some movement in the branches outside, but the leaves are dry and noisy now. I open my eyes—I have to look. It’s better when I see him coming. I put every ounce of energy into listening, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I turn my head, grimacing at the sound of my long hair against the pillowcase. I look out my window, searching the branches, wondering if he’d still come if I chopped down the tree.

“Jordan, are you awake?”

My heart races as I hunt for Michael among the branches. His dark form is pressed against the trunk a few feet higher from his usual perch. How long has he been watching me? He drops down, settling in closer to the window, and I remind myself to look for an ax in the morning.

“Jordan, let me in.”

“Go away, Michael. I will never let you in.” My voice is steady and calm, without emotion. I’ve said these words a hundred times today, so they’d become automatic. So I wouldn’t change my mind.

Michael sighs, and I think I see him nodding. He knows I’m not ready to let him in. I suspect he knows I think about it, though. I suspect he knows that a part of me wants to.

“You don’t know how good you have it, Jo.”

I don’t like where this is leading. This won’t be a “let’s talk about the future” night. Michael’s missing his old life and he’ll keep me up for hours if I encourage him.

“Did you go to school today? Did anyone talk about me?”

I roll my eyes. “This is high school, Michael, you’re old news. People have found better things to gossip about. I mean, dying in the summer … well, your timing was way off. If having people remember you is important, that is. There’s just way too much happening, people move on pretty quickly. Now, if you had died during the school year, that would have made a bigger impact.”

“God, Jo! This isn’t easy for me, you know.”

I nod and wonder if his eyes see better than mine. Can he see I’m putting on an act, that every inch of my skin tingles when he sits outside my window? “I’m sorry, Michael, but I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

“But I miss you, Jo. It’s not like you think. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep at all. I’m awake with nothing to do. Nothing to do but think, and miss you.”

“I’ll leave some books outside for you tomorrow. Maybe you can accomplish something you never did when you were alive—you can actually read a book. Or, hey, how about this? You can walk into the sunlight and end this all. Have you thought of that? What would happen if you walked into the sun?”

Michael’s quiet, and I think he may keep it short tonight—until he taps his foot on my window.

“How’s Steve and Eric?” he asks. “They still playing ball?”

“Oh God.” I turn my back to the window. “Ask me something I care about. Your stupid friends are exactly the same as they were when you were alive. They live and breathe football or basketball or whatever stupid ball season it is. They still hang out with their gorgeous girlfriends and they still smash mailboxes after a few too many beers. I’m surprised you haven’t joined them. That was one of your favorite pastimes, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer, and I remember Michael making out with some girl—one hand up her short skirt, pressing her against the lockers—acting like he wasn’t making an ass of himself. I wonder how many guys walking past dreamed of trading places with Michael? I know how often I dreamed of trading places with that girl.

“So, what, they don’t talk about me? Like, not at all?”

He’s definitely not letting it go tonight. I think he actually thought they’d worship him forever.

I turn back to the window, but I remember to move slowly this time. I’ve seen my cat throw itself against the window trying to catch the birds outside in the tree. I sometimes wonder if Michael will lose patience with me and begin to think of me like that, like a bird. Like his prey. So I move bit by bit because I don’t know what I would do if Michael were to throw himself against the glass.

“I lied before,” I finally say. “Everyone talks about you. They actually talk about you a lot.” I pause and let Michael think what he will. “But they’re not reminiscing. They think you killed yourself.” I’ve wanted to tell Michael this for a long time, but he was such a mess over the summer, it didn’t seem right. But tonight I’m feeling mean, and I won’t baby him. Besides, he doesn’t seem to care about what his visits do to me.

“What? Who thinks that?”

“Everyone. Everyone at school. And I’ve been wondering, too.” I bite my lip, deciding if I should go on.

“I’ve told you what happened,” he says sharply. “You know what I was dealing with. There’s no way I could have stopped it.”

I’ve been wondering if that’s true, but I can’t tell him that—not yet. “Well, they think you killed yourself and they talk about why you did it. And not just your friends. Everyone.”

I let my words sink in. I let him mull over the thought of the entire school ignoring his football record in favor of gossip.

“You wouldn’t believe the theories that went around. Some were really laughable. ‘Michael was bipolar.’ ‘Michael only had one month to live.’ But don’t feel too bad, it was purely defensive. People needed to find the flaws they’d missed when you were alive, because if the great Michael Green couldn’t handle things, how is everybody else supposed to?”

“Well, at least you know the truth,” he says.

I’ve wounded him and catch myself before a satisfied smile emerges on my face. I’m long past trying to understand what Michael does to me. Making me wish he were here in my room—in my bed—again, then the next minute making me relish the hurt in his voice. But I won’t beat myself up for bruising his ego. He’s made me his prisoner every night, and I’m glad when I can get a dig in.

“Damn it!” he growls, startling me. “I’m sick of talking. Let me in!”

He suddenly shifts his weight and slaps his palms against the glass. I flinch like it’s me he’s hit. I try to shrink away from him and sink into the mattress. God, why did I say those things?

My mouth dries to paper as I suck in the cold air pouring in over the sill. I make myself as small as possible and freeze into place. So far the window has barred his way. But that damn inch. I imagine him with new cat eyes that can see in the dark, noticing the currents of air playing around the opening. Does he know what I did—can he see? Is that small opening invitation enough for him to enter?

“Jordan,” he croons. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just miss you so much. I just want to be with you.”

He jumps down to the ground, and I melt into the bed.

I’m shaking, but I won’t pull up the blanket. I need to feel the cold; I need to feel something besides the ache I get when he leaves me. I hate myself for wanting him, for feeling flattered it’s me he haunts every night.

Three months now I’ve talked to him through the window. Three months I’ve conjured his face from the time when he was mine. I see his chestnut eyes, his brown curls, his white, white teeth, and full mouth. I put that face on over the shadows and imagine we could start over.

But the leaves are falling and soon Michael will sit on bare branches. Moonlight will finally find its way to his face, and I’ll see what I know is true: that Michael is a monster.

I’m just afraid that one of these nights I might let him in.