Soulstice (11 page)

Aaron tugged at the cardboard sleeve on his coffee cup, working the paper between his fingers.

“Great power equals great responsibility? Is that the crap you’re feeding me?” His voice was harsh, but he kept it low and
controlled. “Vours are pure evil. They enjoy the torture, the torment that they inflict. They deserve to die.”

“Yes, but there’s a human being that deserves to live,” Reggie insisted. “I can save him.”

“Do you know that for sure? You don’t know what’s in that fearscape. For that matter, you don’t even know how long it’s been
around. The way you described Henry’s fearscape, it sounded like it was still forming, still shaping itself. Easy compared
to others you’d face. And even if it wasn’t, Henry is your brother. I get it. But you’d risk your life for
Keech Kassner
?”

Reggie forced herself to stay calm. She couldn’t blame Aaron’s frustration with her.

“The real Keech Kassner is a scared little boy living in hell, not the bully we know. How can I choose to save one and not
the other, just because one’s related to me? Humanity is what separates us from them. It can be a thin line, and I don’t want
to be on the wrong side.”

The cardboard sleeve was in shreds on the table.

“Reggie, have you ever considered that it might
be
more humane for them to die?”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“When I was in that prison—the things they made me see, made me feel—I wanted it all to be over. I wanted to
die
. A fearscape must be so much worse. Maybe it’s not wrong, Reggie. Maybe it’s mercy.”

“I’m not God. I won’t play that role. And neither will you.”

Aaron slammed his hands down on the table, and coffee sloshed out of his cup. A woman at the next booth looked over; Reggie
rushed to mop up the spilled coffee with a napkin.

“Look, Aaron, there’s something else you need to know.”

“Oh God, there’s more?”

“It’s about Henry. I think he’s gained an ability from his time in the fearscape.”

“What kind of ability?”

“I think he can sense Vours. Or at least feel when one is near.”

“How?”

Now was the time, Reggie thought. Tell him about Quinn in your bedroom. How Henry felt his presence there. How it was through
Quinn that they just might discover the Vours’ solstice plot.

“The other night…” Reggie began, but she couldn’t finish. Aaron looked at her expectantly, his body tense and his eyes alert.
He could barely accept that Keech should be saved—how could he deal with Quinn being alive, and that Reggie was considering
teaming up with him? Aaron wouldn’t see that even though Quinn was the enemy, he might be their only chance of stopping the
Vours. There was too much hurt there, too much anger. He might even try to kill Quinn himself. She couldn’t risk it. “The
other night Henry told me he’d felt strange at school, right before he started remembering his fearscape. Like something was
sucking the heat out of him. I think he was feeling the presence of a Vour.”

“Wow. That’s weird, Reg. We know they crave heat, but I never would have guessed they literally pulled it out of everything
around them. Maybe being inhabited by a Vour left Henry’s body super-sensitive to the loss of physical energy?”

“Something like that.”

“It could come in handy—”

“No. Henry stays out of this.”

Aaron’s eyes looked pained.

“Are you absolutely positive you don’t want to tell Eben about any of this? What about the solstice plot? Maybe he knows something
about it. He could help.”

“He’d tell us to stay out of it, and he’d demand to know where we got our information. You know he would. Then he’d kill Keech.
No, I don’t want to play by his rules.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. So what do you want me to do?”

“I need a way to get into Keech’s fearscape. Will you help me?”

Aaron sighed.

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Enjoying your little date?” Nina Snow stepped up to their table and hovered over them. She glowered at Aaron. “Like you even
have the right to be walking around when Quinn is probably at the bottom of that lake. What did you do to him?”

“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything,” Reggie said.

“The cops just wanted to quiz him on Shakespeare, then?”

“They asked him some questions. They’ve asked a lot of people questions, remember? Even you.”

“What, are you his publicist?” Nina’s eyes blazed. “Can’t he speak for himself?”

“I don’t know why the cops pulled me in,” Aaron said. “They’re following every piece of evidence, but it had nothing to do
with me. I had nothing to do with Quinn.”

“He paid you to do his homework. You don’t think I knew about that? And he was always nice to you! He talked to you when no
one else would!” Nina was growing hysterical. “Everyone knows you’re a freak, Cole. You read books about serial killers! Did
you kill Quinn?”

Nina was shouting, and the entire café was watching.

“What did you do, you freak?
What did you do?
”

Reggie jumped up.

“That’s enough! Leave us alone.”

“You probably helped him!” Nina screamed, and she picked up Reggie’s iced coffee and dumped it on her. Reggie fell back in
her seat in shock; the brown liquid ran down her hair onto her cheeks and T-shirt, spread out across the booth, and dripped
onto the floor.

Nina sobbed and ran out of the door.

The coffeehouse was quiet for a minute, then a low buzz filled the room as people went back to their conversations, trying
to pretend like they hadn’t seen what just happened. A barista hurried over with towels to clean up the spilled coffee, and
Reggie patted her face and clothes.

Aaron started packing up his stuff. “I changed my mind. Maybe we
should
study at your place.”

Exams started on Wednesday, and Reggie tried to stay focused through French and geometry. But Quinn hadn’t made contact, and
not knowing if she could trust him made thinking about verb conjugations and theorem proofs impossible. When she wasn’t studying,
she and Aaron were trying to figure out a way to get Keech someplace cold and remote where Reggie could get into his fearscape.
This was a lot harder to do than it was in December. There were no frozen lakes, no snowstorms…

“The trouble is,” Aaron said on their way home from school Wednesday afternoon, “it’s not even like we just have to incapacitate
him, which would be hard enough. Mitch never leaves his side—we’ve got to take out
two
Cro-Magnons.”

Reggie kicked a stone along the sidewalk.

“Maybe that’s how we get at Keech.”

“Kidnap his twin and hope he comes looking for him?”

“No. We get Mitch to help us.”

“What?” Aaron chuckled. “I think you inhaled too much lead from those Scantron sheets.”

“Hear me out. I noticed on Saturday, and then again the other day, the way Mitch acts. He follows Keech and obeys him because
he has to. He’s just a—”

“Victim? Are you kidding me?”

“He could be an ally in this. He knows the horrors—don’t you think he’d want his brother back more than anyone?”

“Risky.” Aaron switched his backpack to his other shoulder. “Risky, but possible.”

“We’re out of time and options. But those two are inseparable, you’re right about that. We need to get Mitch alone.”

“I think I have an answer to that one,” Aaron said as they rounded the corner onto Reggie’s driveway. Dad was standing by
his truck.

“An answer to what?” he asked.

“Oh, um…” Reggie hesitated.

“Just a math problem on our final,” Aaron jumped in.

“Right. Your tests started today. How were they?”

“Character building,” Reggie replied.

Dad opened the driver’s side door.

“I’ve got to pick up some lumber in Wennemack, but I’ll be home before dinner. Any requests?”

Leaving Dad with a short grocery list, they went inside the house, and Aaron shared his plan with Reggie. They both agreed
it was as good as anything they’d got, but it meant waiting until the end of the week. It was common school gossip that each
Friday afternoon the Kassner twins had to report to their probation officer in the juvenile center temporarily housed down
the street from the Cutter’s Wedge Police Station. While Keech was meeting with the probe, they’d have a chance to talk to
Mitch alone, if they could get him to listen.

Friday rolled around and Reggie took her last final, the dreaded biology. As she was walking to her locker afterward to clean
it out, Mr. Machen stopped her outside his classroom.

“Reggie, would you mind coming in here a sec?”

She followed him to his desk, where he sat down and shuffled through some blue books. He pulled out the one Reggie recognized
as her own, with her essay written in purple ink.

“Your essay… well, let’s just say it surprised me.”

He handed the booklet to her, and she almost dropped it on the floor. A red D was scrawled across the cover. Reggie didn’t
know what to say.

“I’m just used to seeing good work from you,” Machen went on. “After the… episode last Friday, and the incident at the elementary
school—I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Things have been a little crazy lately,” Reggie admitted. Had she really gotten a D on her English paper? She’d never gotten
a D on anything before. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could redo the exam or something?”

Machen shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. But your work has been excellent up to now, so this will only bring your semester grade down to a B.”

“So much for that three point eight,” Reggie muttered.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I just felt like I should talk to you personally about this, rather than you wondering when your report
card came out. You are a great student and a bright girl. Now, you’re not going to get into any trouble this summer, right?”

I’m about to go get into trouble right now, as a matter of fact, Reggie thought, but she shook her head at her teacher.

“Well then, have a good break, and we’ll see you in the fall.”

“Thanks, Mr. Machen. Great class.”

Reggie went back into the hall and headed to her locker. She was still holding the blue book, and she dumped it in the trash
with the rest of the assorted papers, magazines, and food wrappers that had collected in her locker over the past several
months. Kids around her were doing the same thing, and the air was riotous with yelling and laughing. Finally, it was summer
vacation.

And a week to the solstice.

Aaron came up behind her.

“Freshman year,” he said. “We made it. And with only one body possession and one accidental death to our names.”

“The key is surviving until sophomore year,” Reggie replied. Her phone rang and she checked it; she didn’t recognize the number.
She pressed the talk button and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Meet me. Right now.”

Quinn.

Reggie smiled at Aaron and put up a finger.

“I can’t right now,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“You want to know what’s going down next weekend, you need to see what I found. Now.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“The old train trestle along the river, the one by the bike path. You know where I mean?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Get there.” The line clicked. Reggie flipped her phone shut.

“Who was that?” Aaron asked.

“Um, it was my dad,” Reggie said. “A family therapy session for Henry. I missed the last one because, well, you know. I have
to go.”

Aaron looked puzzled and distressed.

“He said… he said he’d track me down at school if I didn’t go home.”

“Reg, we’re not going to get another chance at this.”

“I know, I know.” Reggie tried to think.

“I’ll go myself.”

“No way, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m deciding. I’ll go talk to Mitch.”

“He could hurt you.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Aaron tried to sound braver than he felt. “But do you mind if I borrow your pepper spray?”

  
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