Darker Days

By the time I hit third period study hall, I was itching to crack open the phone book. All Mom’s Otherworlder contacts in one nifty, leather-bound bundle. I knew which ones to stay away from—Jenna Mason, the owner of the Black Cat bar, and one of Mom’s best friends. As soon as we got off the phone, she’d be running to Mom to tell her what I was up to.

Allen Bane—leader of the local were pack. We’d too recently pissed him off. That whole incident with him and Mom and an ill-timed game of fetch wasn’t about to blow over any time soon.

And McKenna Blaire—the Voodoo priestess with a mouth for gossip. Not besties, Mom and McKenna still talked. And worse than that, they knew a lot of the same people. McKenna had a mouth like a bullhorn. One call to her and the entire Otherworlder population would know what I was up to. And so would Mom.

There was one specific number I was looking for. I flipped to the N’s—Mom had the book organized not by name—but by association. I needed the N’s for necromancer.

I’d just punched Paulson Miller’s name into my cell when a low growl filled the air.

Oh, hell in a hailstorm. Not now.

I looked around. No one else seemed to have heard it. Trying to play it cool, I glanced around the room. The sound seemed to be coming from the front row. Right next to David Ogden’s desk. He chose that moment to look up. He caught my eye with a cheesy wink and a thumbs-up.

Really? A thumbs-up? Did the dude really think a thumbs-up was a turn on? That smooch with Hannah the other day had given him all sorts of confidence.

Creepy, Hi, I’m a stalker in the making confidence.

At the front of the room, Mr. Dakota looked up from his papers as the door opened. On top of his desk, a shimmer of black smoke trailed upward from the floor. I couldn’t see beneath his desk, but I was betting my vial of Fairy Dust that Mr. Winkie was lingering close by.

Mr. Dakota’s mouth fell open as in sauntered Vida wearing a black skirt that looked like it belonged on a first grader and a bright red corset top that left little to the imagination. If she bent over too far, I had no doubt she’d pop out of it—cartoon sound effects and all.

She slid slowly across the room and over to his desk. “I need to see Jessie Darker in the hallway. You don’t mind, do you?” The words dripped like honey from her lips as she trailed a finger over the edge of his desk. My demon dog stalker gave another growl, but one look from Vida in his general direction and he fell silent, another puff of black smoke tufting upward to tell me he’d split.

Dakota waved a hand in my general direction, then pointed toward the door, never taking his eyes from Vida—or her chest.

I contemplated staying put. She couldn’t make me leave with her—but I was curious. Plus, if opportunity presented itself, maybe I could bring her in. I’d probably get crap from Mom, but in the end, it would be one less innocent for her to find. She’d have to appreciate that—even if she wasn’t willing to admit it out loud.

Gathering my things, I started down the aisle toward the door. Vida stood in the doorway with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her ruby-tinted lips.

“Where’s Lukas today?” she asked as the door snapped closed behind us. From the hall, I could see Dakota craning his neck, trying to get another peek at her. He wasn’t even trying for subtle. Ugh. Men.

I shrugged and stuffed both hands into my pockets. “A girl’s gotta have some alone time now and then, ya know?”

She giggled. “You’re more amusing than your ancestors, little Darker girl.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s a compliment.” I gave her a minute. When she said nothing, I pressed it. “Something tells me you didn’t call me out here to chat about pedicures and—” I nodded to her chest, “— implants.”

Vida giggled again. “Oh, they’re real—and she’s quite proud of them.” Circling like a vulture, she tapped the side of her head and said, “She’s in here, you know—totally aware of what’s going on.”

Stopping in front of me, face inches from mine, Vida grinned. “And let me tell you, she likes it.”

“Two peas in a skanky pod then, eh?”

“More than you know.”

I didn’t say anything. She was plainly hinting at something, but I refused to give her the satisfaction.

She frowned, obviously disappointed that I wouldn’t play her game. “Has Lukas told you how he was infected?”

“Yeah. He told me about the witch.”

She clucked her tongue. “Of course he did. But there was more to it than that, silly girl.”

She began to circle again. “That witch would never have been able to do what she did to some random person. The vessel has to be viable.”

Even though I hated playing into her trap, I was curious. “Viable? What does that mean?”

“Open.” She gestured to herself and rolled her baby blues. “Take dear little Vida, for example. Not an innocent white rose, this one.”

Stopping, she leaned against the wall across from me and ran a hand down her— Vida’s—body. “I was only able to enter her because she embodied the basis of what I am.”

“So—you’re saying she was a big ho?”

“Several months ago, Vida seduced her stepfather.” A noticeable shiver ran through her, and her grin got wider. “She still thinks about it.”

All I could picture was some potbellied old guy in a dirty white wifebeater and cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Probably smelled like stale beer, too. “Eww.”

She winked. “The way she remembers it, he was quite yummy.”

“Okay, so you’re saying each person had to have walked the walk—sinned the sin.”

She shook her head. “Embodied. You’re thinking small potatoes. Each infested person had to be stained by it.” The words slid off her tongue like poison. Arms folded, she leaned back against the wall. “Tell me, little Darker girl, has Lukas told you what he did to open himself up to Wrath?”

“Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t belong with you, and he’s not going back in that box.”

Vida laughed. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re wrong about that. On both counts.”

“Actually, Lukas belongs with me,” another voice said. She strolled down the hall toward Vida and me, the heels of her boots clinking a steady rhythm as she came.

Black jeans sat on slender hips paired with a blue blouse unbuttoned dangerously low, and the girl’s dark hair hung wild down her shoulders. She could definitely rock the bed-head look—I was a little jealous.

“Ah,” Vida said, smiling. She pushed off the wall and stepped aside to let the dark-haired girl pass. “Let me introduce you to our witch.”

Hand extended, the girl grinned. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Name’s Meredith.”

Chapter Twenty

“Meredith,” I repeated.

“In the flesh.” She twirled several times, then turned to Vida. With a chuckle, she said, “Are you sure she’s a Darker? She’s much scrawnier than the last two.”

“Last two—hell in a hailstorm!” The wheels in my brain, admittedly spinning a bit slower than normal, started piecing it all together. Meredith was a witch. A powerful one. Time and the ravages of age had nothing on her. “It was you in 1910 and 1959…”

Meredith sighed. “Not as fast as the last two either, I see. If you’d done your homework, you would have found I was an only child. After I disappeared, my parents had—an unfortunate accident. No further pitter-patter of Wells feet. I’m the only remaining Wells witch.”

“No way.” I had to remind myself to close my mouth. Mom was going to have a field day with this one. We