secrets. Are you in a coven? I’m looking to join one, if yours has an opening. Inviting me to join can be mutually beneficial. I can dig up whatever you need for your rituals.”
“Coven? Rituals?” I put my arms out like I was trying to stop an oncoming vehicle from running me over. “Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious — like you. It’s cool you don’t waste time with social crap.”
“I’m not completely anti-social,” I said defensively. “I’m vice president of the Halsey Hospitality Club.”
“Only because your friend dragged you into it.”
“I didn’t — I mean — Amber didn’t drag me. I volunteered.”
“But you’re not the school club type. You like nighttime and graves and the secrets of the dead — just like me.” He pointed to a cluster of flat headstones tucked behind a small fence, the writing on the stones too faded to read more than a few family names like Shipp and Beans. “They checked out like a hundred years ago, so you didn’t come here to see them.”
“Maybe I’m into genealogy.”
“And maybe I’m the tooth fairy.” He chuckled, then bent over to reach into the bag I’d noticed earlier. “Although I could be.” There was ominous rattle as he held out a handful of dark yellow beads.
No, not beads. Human teeth.
“Guess where I got these,” he said proudly.
“I’d rather not.”
“I’ve been digging up interesting things for a long time and if my parents ever broke the lock on my closet door, they’d get the shock of their lives.” He pulled out curvy yellow strips from his bag. “Do any of your rituals call for fingernails and toenails?”
“Eww! Disgusting! You save your nail clippings?”
“Of course not — using my own for spells and rituals would be cheating. I get them from corpses. I brought these for you.” He held them out proudly, as if he was a normal guy on a date offering flowers. “It’s a myth that they grow after death. Living fingernails grow about a tenth of a millimeter a day and the middle and fourth finger grows fastest. Want to see what else I brought to show you?”
“No!” I jumped back from his outstretched hand.
Chuckling like I’d told a funny joke, Kyle reached into the bag again and pulled out something oblong and pale white. “Ever seen a wolf’s jaw bone?”
“Those are teeth?” I asked, horrified.
“Wouldn’t want them sinking into your skin, would you?” he joked.
Not funny.
“Is it real?” I asked skeptically.
“Of course. I don’t deal in fakes. I can prove it.” He pulled off the chain around his neck and uncorked the small vial. “Check this out — bat blood. It’s rumored to have mysterious powers.”
He put the vial to his lips and took a sip.
“Your turn.” Red liquid glistened on his mouth as held the vial out to me. “Go ahead. Drink.”
16
Sick. Sick. Sick!
This four-letter word described Kyle’s demented habits, and also the way my stomach churned at the sight of bat blood dripping from his lips.
Before he could pull any more freaky things out of his bag of horrors, I spun around. Branches crackled under my feet as I bolted for the gate.
“Alyce!” I heard Kyle calling. “Wait! I didn’t …!” The gate swung shut behind me with a loud, shrill clang as I raced down the steps. I fumbled for the car keys, collapsing into the driver’s seat when the door opened.
The car sparked with sweet life, and I was out of there, burning rubber and breaking all kinds of speeding laws to get far away.
By the time the landscape changed from rolling fields to mini-malls, my breath slowed to normal. Inside, though, my thoughts were chaotic. Kyle was seriously delusional if he expected animal bones and blood to impress a girl. And all that talk about covens and rituals?
Did he really believe drinking bat blood would give him powers?
I knew more about
This was all Dustin’s fault. He’d set me up with a wacko. At a red light, I switched on the speaker phone and called him. Before Dustin could ask, I told him what I’d gone through with creepy Kyle. When I got to the part about Kyle drinking bat blood and offering it to me, for the first time in the history of our friendship Dustin was speechless. No arguments. No sarcasm. When he finally spoke, he apologized and said he’d made a mistake.
Mr. Know-Everything Dustin admitting he was wrong? That was a first, and almost worth what I’d just gone through. Almost.
My anger had faded by the time we hung up, although disappointment lingered. Despite seeing into Alyce’s memories and visiting graveyards, I was no closer to finding the missing grave.
When I returned to the Perfetti house, the TV droned and Alyce’s mother was still asleep, her mouth half open as she curled against a couch pillow. She looked peaceful, and younger than usual without heavy lines crossing her forehead. Too bad I couldn’t just ask her what really happened.
While I heated a burrito in the microwave, I sorted through everything I’d found out and tried to calculate the time line. Alyce had been around four in our shared memory, so the baby must have died thirteen years ago — shortly before her parents had divorced. Her father never visited, which seemed harsh. But now I had an idea why he left. I couldn’t blame him for bailing on Psycho Mom, but I did blame him for leaving his daughter. Could there be more to it? I wondered, as I carried the heated burrito to the table. I glanced up at a wall shelf with family photos of Alyce, her mother, and older people I guessed were grandparents. No photos of Mr. Perfetti. Had he suspected, as I was beginning to, that Alyce’s mother was guilty of more than forgetting where the baby was buried?
I didn’t want to believe she was responsible for her own baby’s death … yet the suspicion was like a sliver stuck under my skin. If only there was a way to unlock more secrets in Alyce memories. Could Dark Lifer powers help me?
My thoughts jumped to Gabe, my pulse quickening and my skin feeling hotter than the spicy burrito burning my tongue. Why did thinking about him make me feel like this? I felt sorry for him, but couldn’t call him a friend (a friendly enemy?). What we’d experienced together (near fusing?) had been so amazing. Not romantic but spiritual. He’d given me the gift of my truest self, soaring with me on a euphoric wave like surfing across the universe. Our soul journey had changed me in a profound way, and despite all logic, I wanted to go there again. And even further.
So why not call him now?
Wiping sauce from my lip with a napkin, I carried my plate to the kitchen, my thoughts rushing with the water spilling into the sink. There were a lot of reasons to see Gabe again. I could connect with Alyce again to find out more about her visit to graveyards. I’d also ask why she’d taken the file from Green Briar, and if there were any clues to the missing grave’s location, and about her mother’s mental problems. But even more important, I could wash away worries by flying free of the physical plane with Gabe.
My phone was in the bedroom, a short walk down the hall that seemed miles long. I was anxious-scared- eager to see Gabe again.
Drying my hands on a towel, I wondered: could I really trust Gabe?
He had a century-long habit of lying to girls who freely offered their hearts to him. So why did he want to help me? Saying I was “different than other girls” was so cliche. Still, it sounded sincere coming from him. And I was different from his past girlfriends because I already had a boyfriend, so he couldn’t break a heart that didn’t belong to him. Also there was the whole Temp Lifer thing. I understood what it was like to lose your own identity while living in borrowed bodies.
Another reason for his interest in me could be my grandmother’s otherworldly status. As head honcho in the
