Super Freak (11 page)

Panic rose in my throat. I tried to calm myself. Last night was just making me jumpy. “Morning. Where’s Diana?”

Dad frowned. “What do you mean? She’s not asleep upstairs?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have freaked, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even wait to hear what Mom said. I streaked back upstairs, throwing open my door, tossing pillows and blankets aside, and calling Diana’s name. I threatened her with Chinese water torture, the rack, and an entire day trapped with Kevin.

No answer.

When my parents appeared in the doorway, concern and confusion lining their faces, I located an envelope with “The Bennings” scrawled across the front in bold handwriting. Tears blurred the writing as I turned it over in my hands.

“Caroline, what is it?” Dad asked, picking his way through the fluffy obstacle course. He held out his hand and I put the letter in it, tears running down my face.

This was my fault. I knew something was wrong, and I continued, and I dragged her with me. If anything happened to her, it would be because of me. I buried my face in Mom’s shoulder when she wrapped her arms around me.

Dad opened the letter, his voice rolling around the room like a death knell. “You have ignored my warnings. As you seem unable to respond to subtle commands to cease your search for information, I have taken more drastic measures. Diana will be returned when a member of each of the founding families are gathered in the town hall at midnight on Founders Day. Should even one be absent, Diana will become the latest victim of the Harridan House curse.”

A sob ripped from my throat. I didn’t understand. We hadn’t found anything worth knowing. Not yet. What had we seen that made us such a risk?

“Caroline, I’m sorry. This is my fault,” Dad said. His eyes glistened as I turned to look at him.

“What are you talking about?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the paper in his hands. “The research, the things I refuse to let you see, are about our family history. There are many hints about the Harridan House curse. I believed if I focused with some specific spells and involved a few friends, I could solve the mystery. I was wrong.”

“This isn’t about you, Dad.” I sniffed. Fresh tears burned my eyes. “Diana and I have been looking for information. We must have seen something we weren’t supposed to.”

But Dad wasn’t listening. Mom moved to pat him on the shoulder, and they didn’t seem to hear what I was saying. Maybe that was for the best. Because as I looked at my parents, huddled together on the edge of the bed, something lit in my chest.

Magic had done this, and magic didn’t seem to be the answer to solving it. I could sense the solution hovering just out of my grasp, and it had nothing to do with the supernatural. Whoever it was had taken my best friend, and made my parents believe they were the cause. They ruined my first chance at a permanent home, and they were going to pay for it.

***

Making the promise to discover who had done it was easy. Looking Diana’s father in the face and telling him what happened was not. I expected some sort of huge angry demonstration of power, with fangs and red eyes and lots of cursing.

He crumpled in on himself like a broken man instead. My dad took all the blame, no one listened when I said Diana and I had found things. They just told me over and over it wasn’t my fault. Nothing I said could get their attention. Finally, I gave up. Diana was in trouble, and I knew if I just had all the pieces I could fit the puzzle together.

I slid into the foyer, away from the disaster in the kitchen. The police were going over the house, and they had already been through the study. If I wanted to get in, now was my chance. My footsteps faltered. Fear beat in my gut. With a deep breath, I turned the handle and slid inside, shutting and locking the door behind me.

The smell of old paper and leather could not calm me like it normally did. I moved to the desk, searching through stacks of books and papers for the small leather journal Dad read from the last time I saw him in here. I had just about given up hope when I opened the bottom drawer of the desk and found it, buried beneath a mound of old tax forms.

My hands shook as I flipped it open. The inside cover was marked with a name and a date in the same flowing handwriting that I found in the walls.

Elspeth Bennings. The woman who had been trying to talk to me through the walls.

I pulled up a chair and opened the book, flipping through the pages. I was lucky. The journal was only half-filled. I checked the door lock one more time, then sat down at the desk and began to read.

By the time someone tried to open the door, I had gotten almost all the way through the journal. My neck hurt, and I had more information about Elspeth Bennings, but not much clue what to look for. Some things in the journal led me to believe someone might have been after Elspeth. But at the same time, each journal entry got harder to understand. She had left things out on purpose, but I couldn’t figure out what it meant. I knew I should read between the lines, I just couldn’t figure out the message.

Tears flooded my eyes. I wished Diana were with me. She would have winked and said something outrageous. We’d have laughed and tried again. But she wasn’t, and it was up to me to understand why.

The door handle rattled again and I closed the book, replacing it in the drawer and then hiding in a corner of the room. Just as I slid behind a stack of boxes, the door opened and Dad stepped inside, looking around.

“She’s not in here,” he said, talking to someone over his shoulder. “Check outside. Maybe she went for a walk.”

There was a note of panic in his voice that made me wince, and I stood up. “I’m right here,” I said.

He spun, turning to me. “Thank goodness, Caroline. I thought something happened to you.”

I shook my head. “No. I just needed to get away.”

It didn’t take much effort to look and sound pitiful. He pulled me into his arms when I climbed from behind the boxes. “I know, sweetheart. But we’ll find her. She’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

I’m not sure who he was trying to comfort–me or himself. His arms squeezed a little tighter and he led me from the room, locking the door behind us. His eyes slid to mine, but I couldn’t read his expression. If he worried about what I might find there, it was too late for that. And I wouldn’t return again. I’d gotten what I needed. The pieces of the puzzle whirled around my head. I read enough of the journal to realize the pages I kept upstairs tucked inside a notebook at the bottom of my desk drawers were torn from it. Without them, several important pieces of information were left out.

My parents herded me back into the kitchen, where yet another police officer made me repeat what happened this morning. This one, however, added a question. “Was there anything else that seemed unusual? Did you see anyone earlier in the evening or hear anything suspicious.”

My eyes jumped to his and I nodded slowly. Everyone in the room stopped talking. “We went downstairs for some … snacks. We stopped in the living room, goofing around with the flashlights, and we saw someone outside.”

The officer, a man named Detective Crowne, didn’t question what we were doing with the flashlights, thank God. “What did you see?”

“Someone out front wearing a hood and cape. They were staring at the birch. And then another man came and attacked him. Diana and I made some noise and they heard it and ran off away from the house.”

Detective Crowne seemed know something had been left out. A line appeared between his brows, but he just made me repeat everything three times, drawing details out of me I didn’t realize I’d noticed. Height, whether they seemed older or younger, and what direction
exactly
they had run. I even, reluctantly, told him one of the men put something outside next to the tree.

He sent out an officer to look, but they came back empty-handed. No tracks in the earth near the tree, nothing out of the ordinary. All respect for me drained from his face. It was clear he thought I wanted attention, so I’d made up the men. It was written in the deep frown lines on either side of his mouth. The hopeful glint in Crowne’s eye disappeared.

Anger burned in my belly. Diana was my best friend, and they all thought I was some sort of freak basking in the attention. They probably thought I instigated it. My hands curled into fists on my knees.

“I’m not lying,” I said, my fingernails biting into my palms. “They were there.”

“But they left no tracks or evidence of any kind?”

I tugged on my ponytail. “Maybe they used magic. I don’t know. But they were there.”

It didn’t matter. I was a thirteen-year-old, devoid of magic, and they were adults, and everyone knew children didn’t know what they’re talking about. His attention moved away, and I was left sitting in my chair, trying to decide whether to yell or cry.

I didn’t do either. If I made a scene they’d kick me out, and I wanted to know what they said and did. Two witches, part of the Magical Investigation Services Team or MIST, arrived a few minutes later. One was a tall, thin woman with piercings all over her face and combat boots weighing down her feet. The other was short, round, and dressed in pastel colors and flowing fabrics. They gave me a cursory glance and dismissed me.

While I wanted to stick out my tongue, I resisted, sliding down a little farther in my chair. They spoke to Crowne in the corner, then headed out of the room. I moved to the doorway, watching them as they separated. The pastel one floated around the room, eyes closed, fingers waving in the air as if she played a piano only she could see. The other clomped around and frowned at everything. She looked like she had permanent PMS.

They moved together as if it were a dance they had performed many times before. I returned to my seat in the kitchen instead of following them upstairs. When they came back, I wanted to hear what they found, if anything. They had to find something relating to whoever stole Diana.

It took half an hour before they returned, empty-handed. Though the way they eyed my parents and whispered in Crowne’s ear made me uncomfortable. When he straightened from his chat with them, he looked pleased. The two women whispered together, stealing glances at me the entire time. My stomach dropped to my toes.

“Mr. Bennings, the MIST team has discovered that your house has an … interesting feature. Are you aware someone has been practicing black magic in the tower?”

On cue, every person in the kitchen, including my parents, turned and stared at me. I slid down in my chair and forced a laugh, but it came out as a strangled groan. “I don’t have any magic, remember?”

The Goth-wannabe witch stepped forward, accusation in her voice. “With the proper equipment, one does not require magical talent to use black magic.”

The pastel witch stepped forward, a strange smile on her face. My hopes rose. Maybe she’d defend me. “Especially if one uses the blood of a super in their ritual.”

Goose pimples marched up my arms and I resisted the urge to run. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I wouldn’t. Diana was–is my best friend. I’m not even old enough to check out a history book that talks about black magic from the library!”

No one seemed to believe me.

Luckily, the questions paused when Diana’s father arrived. I was grateful he hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier when they accused me. He was a ghost of himself as he looked in the room at us with huge, haunted eyes, before the officer took him to a separate room to get his statement. I didn’t think I could stand it if he looked at me with the contempt the others had.

I think the Goth tried to test me with a spell while I was distracted. As I tried not to cry when Mr. Elliot’s eyes met mine, she started whispering something softly in the seat across from me. I looked back at her, and when I didn’t react, her frown got even deeper, if that’s possible. Maybe her face would freeze that way.

The police questioned us for two more hours before they left. As they were gathering their things, Detective Crowne cleared his throat and pinned Dad with a hard stare.

“Don’t leave town, Mr. Bennings. You all need to stay where we can contact you until this case has been solved.”

He might have been looking at my dad, but the MIST women had all eyes on me. My best friend was missing, and as far as they were concerned, I was suspect number one.

Monday was Hell on Earth.

I woke up, hoping the entire weekend was a bad dream. When I got downstairs in the morning, I wouldn’t find my parents watching me with a new level of mistrust. That hurt the most, I thought. Despite being proved innocent of the graffiti incident, and how my parents said they didn’t believe I could do it, there was doubt there now.

No one on the bus would look at me. Only Leo offered a small smile, but when he moved to turn and talk to me, his brother jerked on his arm and forced him to stay seated. Word travels fast in a small town.

I caught bits of whispered conversations, most of which involved Diana’s name, mine, and the words “dead” and “black magic.” Ignoring it was impossible. I wanted to jump on the seat and yell that I didn’t do it; I was innocent. But it would mean acknowledging them, and I wasn’t going to do that either. So I stared at my Rubik’s cube on the short ride, pretending to be stumped by a puzzle I’d solved over a million times. When the bus pulled up in front of the building, I was already standing, balanced on the balls of my feet, ready to sprint for the door. I was desperate to get off the bus. Leo tried to catch my sleeve, but I didn’t stop to see what he wanted. I jumped the last few steps to the concrete.

Mr. Grouseman stood there, waiting for me. “Come with me, Ms. Bennings.”

His gruff words and stern face made my already trampled heart fall to my feet. But I fisted my hands and shoved them in my pockets, following him inside the building. I kept my eyes to the ground. The whispers and comments seemed louder in my ears than they really were.

He led me into his office, shutting the door behind me and motioned for me to sit down.

“Am I in trouble, Mr. Grouseman?” I asked.