“Skye…” His hand slid around my waist.
“I just need some sleep. I’m overtired. I’ll be okay in the morning. Promise.”
He grunted and tightened his grip on me. We lay like that for ages before Boone drifted off to sleep again. His breathing evened out, and my eyes remained wide open, dwelling on the purple alligator and the monkey typewriter.
Finally, as the night began to fade into dawn outside, I fell back asleep, unable to shake the feeling that I’d opened something that should’ve remained closed.
Chapter 7
Glancing around the kitchen, I studied every nook and cranny in an attempt to figure out why I felt so…out of place.
“What are you doin’?” Boone asked, looking up from his Weetabix.
“I’m trying to find the glitch in the Matrix,” I said, squinting at the tablecloth.
“Huh?” He made a face.
“We need to get Netflix,” I said, scratching at the fabric. “Your pop culture knowledge is severely lacking.”
“Are you sure you didn’t break somethin’ last night?” he asked putting his spoon down. “You had a rough landin’.”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, lost in my own thoughts. “I’m sure it’s just the bump on the head.”
Boone went back to his Weetabix, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something in his mind didn’t want me in there. The more I dwelled on it, the more I knew that I hadn’t hit an invisible electric fence but something—or someone—had shoved me out. I wondered if Aileen had felt the same thing. The bump on the head hadn’t helped, either.
Whatever it was, something dark had locked away Boone’s memories, and I couldn’t help wondering if it, and the wolves that had been chasing him the night he’d come to Derrydun, had something to do with Carman.
I guessed time would tell…about all of it.
Still sensing I was off-kilter, Boone wouldn’t let up get me. He fussed and clucked like a mother hen until I was forced to send him to the convenience store at the Topaz up the street to get some peace and quiet. Coffee tasted like dirty dishwater on my taste buds, and after last night’s awful sleep, I needed a carton of energy drink.
Thankfully, Mairead was super independent and didn’t need to wait for us to pour herself a bowl of Rice Bubbles before disappearing off to wherever Goth girls went before nine a.m. around here.
Boone wasn’t back before it was time to leave for Irish Moon. Assuming he’d been accosted by a random villager for a lengthy chat, I dragged my sorry behind into the crystal mecca without my hit of sugar-laced taurine.
“You look like you’ve been punched in the eye,” Mairead said as I did a zombie lurch across the shop floor.
I poked my tongue out at her and rounded the counter. Pulling out the tarot cards, I held them in my hands and shuffled, hoping the energy of the familiar and the resonance of the crystals could soothe the uneasiness I’d felt since waking up spouting nonsense.
It all started when the block on Boone’s mind threw me across the clearing, I thought to myself. He zapped me unknowingly, and now I’m all weird. I was really worried he’d short-circuited my magical solenoids.
“We’ve still got a million pictures to take for the website,” Mairead complained when I sat down like a lump and didn’t move.
“I just want to draw a card,” I said. “I’ve been neglecting them lately.”
She leaned against the counter, watching me shuffle. “Okay, let’s see, then.”
Selecting a card, I pulled it out of the deck. Seeing my old friend the Chariot, I curled my lip.
“Pfft.” I flung the card down on the counter. “Upside down Chariot. Again. So not helpful.”
“Go again?” the Goth girl offered.
I sighed and slipped the card back into the deck. Humoring her, I shuffled and pulled another card. Flipping it over, it revealed the Chariot reversed.
“See? It’s no use,” I said, putting the card back into the deck for the second time. “This has happened before. No matter how many times I shuffle, split the deck, fling them all up into the air…” I sighed dramatically and spread the cards across the counter in a long fanned out line. “Watch this.”
I tapped a card and flicked it out of the lineup. Turning it over, the familiar golden lines of the Chariot showed her face.
“Chariot, Chariot, Chariot!” I exclaimed. “All upside down. All the time.”
“Why?” Mairead asked, looking mystified. “It’s a little creepy, but there’s gotta be a reason, right?”
“Yeah, whatever this card heralds, there’s no escaping it.” I made a face and tidied up the tarot cards, then dropped them back into their box. “Totally comforting when I feel like I’ve got the hangover to end all hangovers.”
“You’re hung over?” It was Mairead’s turn to pull an unattractive expression.
“Don’t do that,” I said, getting out the little digital camera from under the counter. “You look like a slapped ass.”
“You’re so mean. Gimme that.”
She grabbed the camera, and the moment our fingers touched, a bolt of static electricity crackled.
“Ow!” Mairead exclaimed, almost dropping the camera.
“Purple typewriter monkey!” I exclaimed.
“Purple what?” Her look went from shocked to time to call the asylum and have Skye locked up in two seconds flat.
Testing a theory, I reached out and poked the back of her hand. Another zap crackled, and she leaped away from me.
“Ow! What are you doin’?”
“I feel weird,” I replied, shaking my tingling hand. I was supercharged or something…
“You feel weird? You better not be doin’ that on purpose.”
“The last time I was this full of static was when…” I trailed off. The last time I was zapping everything was after Aileen had died, and the Crescent Calling was trying to drag me to Derrydun.
Something magical was going on here. I wanted to say duh, like how couldn’t I realize it, but something was in my head, screwing with my thought patterns. Was it the same thing or something different? Who the hell knew.
The door opened, and the bell jingled merrily.
“I’ve
