her back…
“Fine,” Wendy whispered. “Anything. What do you want?”
“Bring the boy,” the White Lady said. “Piotr. Tomorrow night at the park. You know the one. Around midnight. I’ll take care of binding him, just bring him. Alone, if you please.”
“What are you going to do to him?”
“Do?” The White Lady threw her head back and laughed. “What do you think I’m going to do? Serve him tea and cakes, of course. Impress him with how my watercolors have improved. Maybe take in a show.” She shook Wendy again, lightly this time, and Wendy moaned. “It doesn’t matter what I’m going to do. If you ever want to see Eddie’s soul again, or see your mother out of that bed, you’ll do as I say. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” the White Lady snapped, dropping Wendy to the ground in a tangle of limbs. “Now wake up.” She reached down and before Wendy could react, the flat of her palm cracked against Wendy’s cheek, snapping her head to the side.
Wendy awoke on the floor with a stinging cheek and damp, fishy-smelling hair. The sun had just breached the top of the trees and down the hall Chel’s alarm blared to life. Running her tongue along her upper teeth, Wendy winced at the sudden and unexpected pain.
Her tongue had closed up; the barbell was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eddie didn’t answer his phone. It rang and rang and the fifteenth time it went to voicemail Wendy screamed, flinging her own phone at her vanity where it smashed corner-first into the mirror. The phone, thin to begin with, snapped in two. The mirror shattered into a thousand slivers of glass.
“Wendy?” Jon tapped on her door. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Wendy sobbed, sinking to the floor and burying her face in her hands. “I’m not.”
The door creaked open and Jon poked his head inside. Jabber hissed at the sight of him and slunk beneath the bed, tail puffy and back arched. “Wanna talk about it?”
Scrubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes, Wendy wiped her frustrated tears away. “I can’t get a hold of Eddie,” she said by way of explanation, though Eddie’s absence wasn’t the only concern preying on her mind. “I’ve been trying for hours.”
“So you threw your phone? Crazy much?” Jon crossed the room, picking his way carefully over the splintered shards of glass, and settled beside her on the bed. “Maybe he forgot to charge his cell. Or maybe his mom made him turn it off. You know what a big control freak she is.”
“He’s super anal about charging his phone,” Wendy said, shaking her head. “And his mom wouldn’t be weird about Eddie getting calls over the holidays, especially around her family. Appearances mean a lot to her.”
“Maybe,” conceded Jon. “So what’s all this about? Did you guys get in another fight?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Wendy swallowed thickly. “I had this nasty dream. Something was wrong with Eddie in it so I just…I just have a bad feeling, okay?”
Jon whistled. “That must have been one heck of a dream.”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it really was.”
“Well, I know this probably isn’t the time, but Chel and I were hoping to go see Mom today. Nana said this is probably our last Christmas, you know?”
“The insurance is about to run out,” Wendy murmured. “Right, I almost forgot.” It was just one more terrible thing to add to the list of never-ending crap. If their mother didn’t wake up soon there was a chance Dad would have to decide whether to keep her on life support…or pull the plug. If she could rescue her mom from the White Lady, it would be a decision he’d never have to make.
Stretching, Jon used the edge of Wendy’s bed to rise to his feet. “I know you’re worried about Eddie, but do you think you could chill out for an hour or two and drop us off? Dad gave us permission to use the car if we’re visiting Mom.”
“Let me guess: Chel wants to go to Milpitas afterwards and swing by the mall?” Wendy struggled to keep from sneering but failed. Emotionally she was wrung dry and too edgy to be fair about her sister’s foibles. “Maybe catch a movie with her buds or do some last minute ‘holiday shopping’?”
Jon pitched his voice low. “Actually, she never suggested it. Weird, right? She said all her shopping’s already done. Internet.”
“Chel turned down a chance to go waste Christmas break at the mall? I guess she’s serious about avoiding the rah-rahs after all.”
“Everybody changes.” He shrugged. “Anyway, when we’re done Nana wanted to know if we’d like to crash with her up in Oakland tonight. She was talking waffles so I’m thinking hell yes,” Jon said, grinning wildly. He leaned down and offered her a hand up. When Wendy took it his open expression darkened, eyebrows drawing in. All joviality fled. “Wendy, what happened to your arm?”
Whoops! In the recent chaos, Wendy had forgotten all about the cuts the Walker had inflicted in the park. Snatching her hand out of Jon’s grip, she cradled her arm to her chest. “It’s nothing. I had an accident. Eddie patched me up.”
“Some accident,” Jon said and then his lips pressed together in a tight line. “Wendy,” he said, choosing his words with some care, “I know this isn’t any of my business, but you’re not taking that goth-emo thing to that wacko level are you? You know, that ‘I bleed to feel pain’ dominatrix crap kinda level?”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “Jon, honestly, listen to what you’re saying for once. You know me. Do you really and truly believe that I—of all people—would cut myself?”
“Since you didn’t just give me a direct answer, I’d have to say that I don’t know,” he said gravely, glancing around the shattered glass and ramshackle chaos that passed for her room. “Would you?”
“No! Jesus, Jon!” Annoyed, Wendy punched him on the bicep, not bothering to be gentle. When he yelped and rubbed his arm she waved her fist in his direction. “That’s for thinking I’m a cutter, you jerk.” Her thoughts flicked to the dream of the night before, the skin clutched in the White Lady’s hand. She tamped down on those thoughts quickly. She had a little bit of time; she’d figure out what to do.
“Okay, okay!” he protested, half-laughing, still rubbing his sore arm. “I get the picture already!”
“Next time think before you go accusing people,” Wendy warned. Careful of the glass, she reached under the bed and pulled out the Tupperware container stuffed to bursting with shoes. Selecting a sturdy pair of army surplus combat boots, Wendy flopped on the bed and began lacing them up.
“Fine. Whatever. Go get Chel,” she snapped, impatience coloring her tone. “I’m tired, I’m stressed out, I’m done. You and me and Chel. We’re getting this over with. Move it!”
Jon looked offended. “But Mom—”
“The drive,” she clarified, softening. “I want to get the drive over with. Christmas break, remember? The 101 is gonna be total crap, and crossing the bridge isn’t going to be much better. Dad emptied the change tray, so we gotta swing by the bank for cash. Any clue where he stashed the debit card?”
“I’ve got it in my purse,” Chel said, leaning in the doorway, the cordless phone hanging loosely from her hand. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her skin was tight and shiny, white except for the hectic patches across her cheekbones. She coughed into her fist. “What happened in here? Did your reflection sass you good, or what?”
“I lost my temper,” Wendy said shortly. “You look like hell. Are you feeling okay?”
“Peachy keen,” Chel drawled. “I’m fine. Let me grab my shoes.”
“You don’t look fine,” Jon protested. “You’re all—”
“I know how I look, okay?” Chel pushed away from the threshold and tossed the cordless on the bed. “It’s just a little cold or something. Anyway, Eddie’s mom beeped in about five minutes ago while I was on the line with Nana. She wants you to call her back ASAP.”
Heartbeat trebling in her chest, Wendy’s grip tightened on her boot until her knuckles bled white. Beneath the bandage on her arm she felt the edges of the wound Eddie had sealed with the dermabond glue start to pull apart. Twisting so her siblings wouldn’t see the dark red seeping on her gauze, Wendy asked casually, “Did she say what it was about?”
