Something Wikkid This Way Comes (3 page)

Human and friendly
, I think, watching as the girl runs a hand down Shar’s arm. Shar looks up, all wide-eyed innocence.

Now I know she’s acting.

The cheerleader and Shar have their faces close. They’re whispering, so it’s not until I’m nearly on top of them that I realize who the other girl is.

It’s Jodi Corwin
. I’m dumbfounded. If cheerleaders are popular at Trinity, Jodi is the Queen of the Cheerleaders. Athletic, with long pale limbs and fetching auburn curls, Jodi’s that wondrous combination of sex vixen and milkmaid we like to think of as “the girl next door.”

Jodi’s never once glanced at me in the hallway—she doesn’t see people in uniforms, even with my janitor’s hat floating above me like a second head on my big-ass hair. And she’s only talked to Shar once—to ask Shar if her perfume was called “Skank.”

Nowadays Jodi seems to be digging Eau du Skank
, I surmise, as she giggles at something Shar’s said.

I’m close enough to the couple now to hear what they’re whispering. With my camo, I also know Shar can’t sense me there, so I feel a bit pervy. Yet this is too weird not to investigate. It could be that Jodi’s genuinely interested in “Starr,” at which point I’ll leave them to it. But until then, call me Nosy Nelly.

“I’m serious,” Jodi says, her blue eyes huge. “I love your outfits. They’re so unique.”

Shar blushes, looking down. “You haven’t seemed to like them.”

“Oh, that. Look, I know I can be a total bitch. But I just didn’t know you. I didn’t get it. For serious, I’m sorry.”

Shar looks up into Jodi’s face. “You mean that?”

“Of course. That’s why I’m here. I know I’ve been mean and I’m sorry.”

“Well, thanks, Jodi.” Shar’s smile is so slow and sweet it’s like molasses spreading across her face.

“You’re welcome.” Jodi’s smiles brightly. And she doesn’t seem like a Satanist at all. She could be legit. Or she could be a Mean Girl looking to butter up “Starr” to embarrass her later or to get her to do something stupid. Shar can handle something like that, and I consider leaving. But I’ve got one of those twinges in my gut that tells me to stay.

After long experience, I’ve learned my instincts are to be trusted. So I keep listening.

“So where do you get your clothes?” Jodi asks.

“Oh, mostly online. There were stores in Chicago, but not here.”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to give me the websites. Can I ask why you dress that way?”

“I dunno. I think it’s pretty.” Shar gives a dramatic pause before looking up at Jodi coyly. “I guess I just like dark things.”

Jodi beams at Shar like my friend is the sunrise. My eyebrows rise.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. And why I think I was so mean to you. I was jealous,” Jodi says.

“Of me?” Shar’s voice is perfectly incredulous, honoring Jodi’s far superior social status.

“Yes, of you. You’re brave enough to be like I want to be. I like dark things, too.”

“You do?”

“I do. I know I’m a cheerleader, and everyone thinks I’m so happy and fun. But it’s not really me, you know? Not who I am in my soul.”

Shar’s nodding like she’s a parrot, and she’s taken a careful step closer to Jodi. Shar is breaking into the other girl’s intimate space gently but firmly.

“I know what you mean. It’s like we can be totally different people in our hearts. It’s so hard.”

Jodi’s eyes have welled up like she’s going to cry. She gives a choked sob. “Yes, so hard.”

“Oh, Jodi,” Shar whispers, drawing the other girl forward into a hug. Jodi sniffles decorously, and then it happens. Jodi leans in and her lips find Shar’s in the sort of kiss that should only exist on a porn site, what with the cheerleading uniform, Shar’s outrageously doctored school uniform, and both girls’ stunning good looks.

After a carefully timed moment, Shar kisses her back before pulling away. “Jodi?” she asks, all tremulously.

“I’m sorry, Starr. I couldn’t help it. I feel like I know you so well.”

“I feel the same,” Shar says, raising her fingers to touch her lips in wonder.

“I want you to meet some other people,” Jodi says hurriedly, as if she’s caught in the moment. My ears perk up and I thank the Snooping Gods that I stuck around to listen.

“Other people?” Shar asks.

“They’re some people I’ve met who I think might be like you. Like us. You know, different inside. Interested in different things.”

“Dark things?”

“Yeah, dark things. I think you’ll like them. I think we can all be friends.”

Shar beams at Jodi like she’s been offered a puppy. “Oh, Jodi, thank you. I’d love that. I do feel lonely here.”

“I know, Starr. And I am sorry. But maybe I can fix it?” The girl leans into Shar, who blushes beautifully, raising her face shyly to Jodi.

They kiss again, but I’m already moving away. I’ve heard enough. It’s not concrete evidence, no. But Jodi’s whisperings about “dark things” and “new friends” is enough to raise alarm bells.

I’m pretty sure our circle of suspects has just widened to include one Trinity Academy cheerleader.

It’s a week later, and Shar’s finally getting to meet Jodi’s “friends.” For the occasion, our little succubus halfling looks hideous, in an adorable way. She’s done her long black hair up into pigtails, and she’s wearing this ridiculously short version of an Elvira dress, only this one has fake, sort of plastic chains hanging from the waist, along with ribbons. They trail farther down than the dress, so that they knock against her plump thighs.

I would worry the chains will run her fishnets, but they’re already full of holes, so I guess that’s a moot point.

Giving the immediate area one last sweep with both my weak magic and my sharp eyes, I go ahead and turn off our trusty if ancient Bronco. We’ve pulled into an abandoned parking lot, part of a strip-mall complex that might once have been fashionable, but had long since been abandoned for the Super Targets and Walmarts closer to the highway. All Shar has to do to get to her destination is walk around the empty stores in front of us, and then hike about a mile to get to the park where she’s supposed to meet Jodi.

Moo adjusts the camera stuck to my forehead like a miner’s lamp. It’s not our most impressive equipment, but it’s cheap and no one’s supposed to see it, anyway.

“Be cognizant of this—it’s your only link to me,” Moo cautions, causing Shar to roll her eyes.

“Like Cappie’s going to forget she’s miked,” Shar says, but she pats Moo’s hand at the same time. They really do love each other, these two, even if they fight like…well, like sisters.

I shake my head experimentally, feeling the camera bounce a bit with my hair but otherwise remain solid. Neither it nor my little earpiece microphone is going anywhere. The camera’s gonna squish the shit out of my ’fro, but like me, my hair is resilient.

“Okay, Shar,” I say, as we’re getting close to time. “You know the drill. I’ll be a step behind you. Remember to cover any movements I’ll have to do, like opening something or moving something for access. As for the girls, let them take the lead. Keep your magic mute. And remember this is first contact. We’re not expecting miracles from this session, and it could be nothing.”

Shar snorts. She’s convinced herself that Jodi is the key to everything. To be honest, although I’m keeping my thoughts to myself, I think she might be right. But I keep my emphasis on “might.” After all, in the intervening week, Jodi’s not exactly been warm to “Starr” at school. The cheerleader’s not been as aggressively nasty, but in public she ignores Shar, only being friendly at night, over text messages and the fake Facebook page we set up for “Starr.”

So it’s absolutely possible that Jodi is evil without a Satanic-cult
E
, and she’s planning some sort of
Carrie
-style high school humiliation for Shar. But we’re not without our hopes that it’ll be more. After all, Jodi had put on the kind of act that would entrance any young thing struggling with her identity and her sexuality, and while that could be a high school bully feeling out a new victim, it could also be a cult recruiter putting out her own special feelers.

“Seriously, Shar,” I warn. “For all we know, Jodi’s planning to dump a bucket of pig’s blood on you at prom. Or this is going to turn out to be one of those Christian groups that swear to be virgins until they meet a man like Jesus. So I don’t want you letting loose your mojo and turning them into an
actual
Satanic cult.”

Shar giggles. “I
am
good,” she says, and Moo and I nod. Even with her succubus mojo dampened, Shar radiates sexual confidence, something that can’t be bottled. I’ve seen Shar work a room so nearly all the people there would take her home; give her their wallet; or give up their safe, domestic lives to run off with her. Oftentimes she does these things without even resorting to magic.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but in a tussle, my money would be on Shar’s lady bits.

“I know,” Shar tells me, her voice serious. “I’ll be sweet and shy. Out of my depth. Let them lead.”

“Good.”

“But if they start something, I’m fucking the shit out of them.”

I nod, knowing that was a lost battle. You can’t take the succubus out of the girl. But at least the women who’ve gone missing are all over eighteen, so apparently Satan isn’t into jailbait.

“As long as they’re seniors, like Jodi, you’re golden,” I say. Moo nods her head firmly and Shar pats her hand again. After a long, pretty fucked-up life, Moo doesn’t care about a lot of things. But sexual abuse, especially of kids, is one thing that pushes her buttons. Her red nuclear-warhead buttons. No one wants to push those buttons.

I look at my watch. “It’s time.” Shar nods, opening her door.

“Good luck,” says Moo. “If you need me I’ll be there.”

And she will. That’s our Moo.

Shar gets out of the Bronco, brushes herself off, and does a little twirl. I clap approvingly, which Moo echoes. From the towering platform soles of her Frankenboots to her thick black eye makeup, Shar would rock a reboot of
The Craft
.

I hop out to take my place behind Shar, pulling my camo around me as I do so. My friend watches me disappear, shaking her head.

“That’ll never get old,” she says. “Ready?”

“Yep. Let’s hit it.”

Shar nods and strides away purposefully. I follow, smiling at her slightly pigeon-toed stride, exacerbated by her heavy boots. I love these women like family, so much so that it hurts sometimes.

Moo’s voice sounds in my ear, whispering, “Test, test.” I whisper back that I can hear her, loud and clear. Moo’s our techie and, although she’s the first to admit there’s still a lot she has to learn, she does a damned good job for someone who began life as an Egyptian child-goddess, back in the days of the pharaohs.

Once we’ve walked all the way around the little strip mall, where Moo can no longer see us, I start giving her updates. She is, after all, also our muscle. I can’t camo her, so she can’t come with as there’s absolutely no cover for her. But we still want her to be able to find us if the shit hits the fan.

“We’re walking toward the park. But all’s clear.”

It’s a chilly, slightly overcast day in early fall—the kind of day in which you can smell on the wind both the life of summer and the decay of winter. It’s also eerily quiet; the abandoned strip mall behind us and the equally abandoned park in front of us lend a postapocalyptic feel to our adventure.

There’s also absolutely no sign of Jodi.

If I get doused in pig’s blood, I’m gonna take it out of that girl’s hide
, I think, as I give Moo an update.

“At the park. No one’s here. But there’s a ribbon tied to one of the beams of the picnic pagoda.”

We keep walking toward the pagoda, Shar giving no indication she’s being followed.

“There’s an arrow chalked on the concrete. It’s pointing toward the cornfield,” I tell Moo.

None of us acts surprised. Shar and I both grew up in Illinois, so we know all about cornfields. Both of us had done our share of youthful partying in hidden rooms made from trampling down interior spaces of cornfields, and we’d dragged Moo along.

I’m tiptoeing quietly, but even Shar’s Frankenboots are muffled as we step onto the grass and away from the asphalt of the park’s sidewalks. That’s when I see her.

“I see Jodi,” I whisper. The girl’s wearing her cheerleading costume again, causing me to wonder if she has any other clothes. And if she does, why she never wears them.

“Hey ya!” Jodi calls out, waving at Shar from across the field. Shar waves back and hurries toward her.

“Hi there,” Shar says shyly, when we finally get to Jodi. I can’t help but grin.

“You look gorgeous.” Jodi steps up to Shar, studying her closely before swooping in to give my friend a lingering kiss. I look away until I hear her say, “We’re this way.”

Jodi takes Shar’s hand and leads her off into the cornfield. There’s a very narrow walkway of trampled stalks of corn, and I’m glad Shar’s walking so loudly, as I’m making a shitload of noise. It’s impossible to be quiet in a cornfield.

It’s also difficult to keep your footing, and I’m so carefully trying not to get my big feet tangled in the cornstalks that I don’t realize we’ve found the others until a bunch of voices say, “Hi.” They sound like bright, cheerful, high school voices. Not the voices of a Satanic cult.

I look up to see a small group of girls staring at us. Moving my head carefully, I pan my camera over them so that Moo can make IDs.

Meanwhile, Jodi plays the good hostess.

“Everyone, this is Starr. Starr, do you know everyone?”

Starr murmurs, “No, I’m sorry,” probably for Moo’s benefit. I can picture our Alfar halfling, iPad at the ready, taking notes.

“Well, that’s Lara, that’s Madison, and that’s Jenny and Ana.”

Unfortunately, none of these girls match our files of the missing. In fact, these are all current students.

As the girls make small talk, I use the opportunity to do a careful scan of the area. But I can’t feel anything at all, which is odd. But then I’m distracted by Jodi taking charge of the conversation. What starts out as frivolous chitchat steadily grows more serious, with Jodi asking careful questions. The girls talk about the teachers, about the boys at the boys’ school, about their parents. It seems innocuous initially, but I notice that Jodi increasingly hones in on negative responders. Lara, for example, is goodness personified. She defends her teachers, thinks boys are sweet and chivalrous, and loves her parents. Jodi quickly loses interest in Lara.