I looked at their poor, confused faces. They’d just been shopping for groceries, Christmas trees, or sitting in their houses, eating dinner, watching TV, and now they were here, and they didn’t know why. I felt sorry for them. But I was in dire need. My family was in mortal danger, and this was the only power I had at the moment capable of helping them.
“Did you do this?” Blanche/Sheryl said.
“No,” I said, hoping I sounded innocent. “It’s pizza night here. People love my sister’s pizza.”
Warren, still standing by the door, said, “They’re not here for the pizza. Someone search him. Now!” For once, he wasn’t smiling.
Before anyone could reach me, I drew the orange bottle from my coat pocket, pointed it at Blanche/Sheryl, and pressed the button on the lid. She coughed and covered her mouth as the cloud of poison expanded around her head. The closest Zaditorian lifted Blanche/Sheryl like she was a new bride and carried her toward the kitchen. The other one followed.
“The backdoor!” Warren yelled as he ran across the dining room. Caroline jumped to her feet.
Then the screaming began.
By itself, the orange potion was inert, but when used in tandem with Bitch in Heat, it provided a target for the crowd, a focal point for its simmering energy. It created what the book called a “Worship Mob,” something like Beatlemania.
The people outside trembled with excitement. They screamed and pointed at Blanche/Sheryl, and pressed their palms into their cheeks. Some even cried. The front door rattled as they pushed and pulled on it. The back door flew open with a bang before Warren or Caroline could reach it, and the Worship Mob flooded the bakery.
In seconds, they filled every corner, packed together shoulder to shoulder. I was pressed against the front windows. I couldn’t find May or Em through the scrum of frantic faces so I climbed onto a table next to me. Warren and Caroline had gotten trapped against the display case on their way to secure the backdoor. Even in these dire circumstances, part of me worried about the cost to my sister’s business if that glass broke.
The Zaditorians had been separated from Blanche/Sheryl, pushed to opposite corners of the dining area. Blanche/Sheryl was in the center of the room, alone, trying to fight off the mob of worshippers. They pressed against her, petting her, tugging at her clothes, sobbing in her face. Some of the people closest to her kissed her.
Over the cries of fevered joy, I heard my name and turned. My sister held Em in her arms just a few yards away by the front door. They were being jostled but not trampled.
I expected tape-worm arms to shoot out of the shoulders of the Zaditorians any moment. But they didn’t. They were looking at Blanche/Sheryl, who gave them some sort of hand signal.
A sphere of translucent yellow light appeared, reaching from floor to ceiling, cutting me off from my family. The Zaditorians were on opposite ends of it, their arms outstretched like twin Atlases, the front halves of their bodies shining with a blinding light that fed the sphere.
The worshipers inside the sphere became translucent. Little sparkling blue worms swam through their bodies. Now their haranguing attentions passed through Blanche/Sheryl, who was solid. She stood freely, arms crossed and chin raised, staring up at me like a disappointed coach.
Em and May were on the outside the bubble, on the edge. Their bodies were unchanged but their clothes were translucent and full of sparkling worms, the same as the insides of the ghost-like worshipers.
Warren and Caroline, also inside the bubble, also solid, walked toward May and Em, slowly passing through the mob as if it were made of honey.
I dove off the table into the bubble and on top of the mob. I sunk slowly through it to the floor, then plowed ahead toward May and Em, hoping to reach them before Warren and Caroline. As I pushed through the ghost-like people, my calves and thighs burning with the exertion, I felt a tingling warmth inside me.
Then the yellow light quavered, and the glowing Zaditorian on my left flickered as the mob jostled him. A few threw their whole weight onto his outstretched arms, which fell to his sides. He lost his shine. And the bubble disappeared while part of me was passing through a rapidly materializing man. I was propelled forward, as if by magnetic force, and landed at May’s feet. Over the shrieking worshipers, she said, “Charlie! Come on!”
Em had opened the front door and was hopping up and down, waving us on. May helped me up, and we surged through the crowd. Outside, the mob was sparse. Most had gone around to the back. The yellow bubble reappeared inside the bakery, and I heard Blanche/Sheryl call out to me: “If you want to know where your mom is, go ask that wanda girlfriend of yours.” Her voice was not so composed now.
Caroline and Warren were almost to the door now, trudging through the translucent mob.
Stopping at her car, May said, “My keys are inside!”
“This way,” I shouted.
And we ran out of the parking lot, down the street. Em kicked her legs high, fast for her age, but not fast enough for my comfort. I hefted her up into my arms and sprinted. A long line of cars was parked in the street, still running,
