Spirited (14 page)

“Give me the necklace, girl.”

Oh heckssss
. Mom’s voice is replaced by an evil devil one.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It—Mom—moves toward me. I try to run past, but it catches the sleeve of my jacket and shoves me against the wall.

Mom has never touched me in anger, but this thing inside her growls as if it’s ready to rip me apart.

“Where is it?” the demon voice demands. Angry fire lights its eyes and sends me reeling.

Heart pounding as if it might explode from chest, my body once again takes a hike. I can’t move my extremities no matter how hard I try.

The thing slams a hand against my throat, and tears well in my eyes.

Oh, crap. It’s going to kill me.

I don’t want to die.

Stop panicking
.
Tap into your powers
.

I clear my mind.

You are calm. You are calm. You are calm.

Grandmother’s voice penetrates the hazy fog taking over my mind.

She keeps repeating the same phrase.

I can’t understand you.

Evil dude yanks hard on my backpack trying to tear it from my shoulder. Hot pain sears through my body. I whimper. I can’t help it.

Grandmother screams the words louder.

Realization dawns. I repeat exactly what she says.

The thing howls, but lets go. My wobbly legs no longer hold me. I slide down the wall.

I never stop saying the phrase.

Half crawling, half walking, I scramble for the door.

As I reach for the knob, the door bangs open. Riku pulls me outside.

The cold air is a welcome relief.

“Mom just tried to—” I can’t say the horrible words.

Riku shoves me into a car the size of a refrigerator. I don’t care as long as it can outrun the scary evil dude.

The door to the house flies open. Mom stands there snarling before stepping onto the snow-covered path. She lurches forward until she’s pounding on the window of the car.

“Go, go, go!” I scream.

Riku floors it.

Luckily, the tiny car has some get up and go.

Mom runs alongside for a short bit, and I worry the thing will smash through the window.

I say the words again, and it falls back.

“She has no control, and she’ll have no memory of it. I’m sure she never meant to hurt you.” Riku tries to comfort me.

True.
But it won’t keep me from having nightmares
.

Hands shaking uncontrollably, I squeeze them together. “How far is this place?”

“Maybe a quarter of an hour.”

A nervous laugh escapes my throat. “I thought it would be some major journey up the mountains.”

“No, the town was established by the king to protect the graves of the warriors.”

“Hmmm.” A chill rushes through me.

Is something following us?

I glance around. No one else is on the road, but that doesn’t mean the evil creature isn’t near.

What if it’s taken over Riku?

Forcing my breathing to slow, I grab the door handle in case I need to bail.

Riku notices and shakes his head.

“You’re safe. I shielded myself from the magic in the necklace. I won’t harm you.”

After what happened with my mom, I didn’t see me trusting anyone, anytime soon. “Okay,” I say hesitantly. “But I’m more worried about that creature possessing you.”

“Ah, I can’t blame you. I’ve protected myself from that too. It’s something I do every day as a part of my ritual.”

I want to ask him about that, but we arrive at a big gate. Riku gets out of the car and punches in some numbers. The gates slide to the side, and we drive through.

“This is the fanciest cemetery I’ve ever seen, and how do you know the code?”

“Each of the Draugars has a code. You’ll learn yours once you’re blessed by the elders.”

I roll my eyes. “Hey, I’m done with the whole treasure thing. My plan is to give the Viking his treasure, and then I’m back in Miami in a few weeks.”

Riku has a glint of a smile as he says, “We shall see.”

He pulls up in front of a giant, creepy looking building. I mean, this thing is straight out of
Dracula
.

“Wait, why are the graves inside a building? I thought the Vikings were around like 1032 or something. They wouldn’t have had anything like this.”

“It was built around the gravesite to protect the treasure and the site. No one but the Draugars are allowed inside. There are fake graves a few miles away for the tourists, but we have always protected the real ones. Most people believe the majority of warriors are buried in Norway, but only a few know the truth.”

As we near the door, I notice a panel. Four more doors and four more panels later, we reach a cave-like area filled with dirt. Massive stone statues fill the inner sanctum. Hundreds of them.

“This the resting place of the great warriors.”

Power permeates the room, sending the hairs on my arm to attention. My favorite cranky Viking stands next to his statue, which is an amazing likeness. For the first time he doesn’t yell or make cutting gestures.

“Don’t I need a shovel or something?”

Riku laughs. “No. Place the necklace at the base of the statue.”

Bending down, I carefully shake the necklace loose from my sock, and it hits the ground softly. A flash of light momentarily blinds me, and when I glance back down the necklace is gone.

Weird. And cool. Definitely cool.

I exhale as the Viking fades away.

I’ve completed my mission. The drama is over. Maybe my grandma would even be gone when I returned.

I smile.

Then I remember—that scary thing that tried to kill me was still in my mom.

Guess I’m in the kicking-ghost-butt business after all
.

Death Becomes Her

Willow Martin scurried off the Market Street bus and made her way downtown. Spring had come in with a force, threatening to pull summer in sooner than expected. Sweat snaked along the collar of her shirt and down her back. She swept her forehead with the back of her hand, then hiked her backpack higher on her shoulder as she continued down the cracked and gum-marred sidewalk.

For the third time that afternoon, she counted the money she’d earned babysitting the Warren twins. She’d earned every penny. The twins were brats. They’d deleted the songs on her MP3 player and colored in her history book. Willow wasn’t certain she’d break even. Yet, having the cash to buy a dress at Rêve made it all worthwhile. She’d placed the dress of her dreams on hold three days ago. Shermer High School’s Spring Fling was this Friday, and she was going with Cole Bradley.

Willow slipped the money back into her wallet and crossed the street to the storefront window. A male mannequin dressed in a black tuxedo knelt before a female in a short sequined dress. He positioned a glass slipper inches from her foot. Willow placed her palm on the glass.

A woman’s reflection wavered in the window. She wore big round sunglasses and a scarf covering her hair. “They really have us programmed, don’t they? But, what they don’t tell you is, not everyone gets a happy ending.”

Willow turned, but the woman was gone.

Strange.

“Willow!” Abby Logan crossed the street, her ponytail swinging, and hopped over the curb.

Willow checked her phone. Nearly four o’clock. “You’re late.”

Abby tugged Willow into a smothering hug. “But worth the wait.”

“I’m so excited,” Willow said.

“Me, too!”

Abby opened the door, and they both entered the shop. The fragrant smell of expensive French perfume, a soft rose scent mixed with something spicy, filled the air. Rêve’s decor was sparse with spotlights that featured a sole purse or shoe as if it were an object of art. Willow swallowed hard. She never shopped here. This was her stepmonster Sky’s type of store, but for the dance and Cole, Willow wanted everything… she wanted the fairy tale.

No matter how cheesy that sounded.

Abby squeezed her hand as they walked up to the counter.

“May I help you?” the saleswoman asked. Dressed in a white suit, she wore her hair pulled back in a tight bun, which might have been the reason for her pursed lips and sour expression—suffering for her fashion.

“Willow Martin. I’m here to pick up my dress.”

“One moment.” The saleswoman disappeared into the back.

Willow tapped her finger on the counter. A few minutes later the woman returned empty-handed. “There seems to be a problem. We no longer have your dress. No money had been put down on it, so it was sold.”

“What?” Willow had been dreaming about how this night would be perfect. The dress was the key. She’d spent weeks selecting it and even longer working for it. She’d built up huge expectations—how she’d float down the stairs to greet Cole, how his dimples…

This wasn’t happening.

“I do apologize.”

Abby patted Willow’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Willow, let’s pick another.”

It wouldn’t be the same, but what choice did she have? Willow turned from the counter and stopped. The racks no longer held formal wear. “Um, where is all your…” She paused, trying to keep the tears from forming. “Evening wear?”

“I’m very sorry, but we’ve sold out. Most girls purchased their formals weeks ago.”

“Do you really want to wear a superficial Hollywood-starlet-following-the-next-it-fad dress like Sky?”

“Well, not superficial. I just… wanted to be Cinderella for just one night.” Willow’s sight became glassy. “Ironic naming a store Wishful Thinking. Things sound sweeter in French. Maybe the lady was right, not everyone gets a happy ending.”

“What lady?” Abby asked.

“Just someone on the street. She made a comment when she saw me drooling over the window display.” Willow plopped into one of the plush chairs. “All the other boutiques have probably been picked cleaned, too. It wasn’t meant to be.” Willow fought to keep her bottom lip from quivering.

“I have an idea.” Abby looped her arm in Willow’s. “Just call me your fairy godmother.”

~*~*~

“Isn’t this place great? This thrift shop is a treasure trove. I’m sure we’ll find something here.” The metal hangers clacked as Abby trailed her fingers along the racks of clothes.

Willow thumbed through a rack of coats. “I bought my Halloween costume here when I was in sixth grade.” She grimaced. The place had a faint scent of mothballs and eau de old lady. Surely she wouldn’t find a dress here that would make Cole’s jaw drop.

“You have to keep an open mind,
darling
.” Abby draped a feather boa around her slim shoulders and struck a dramatic pose. Taking a purple shawl from the rack, she wrapped it around Willow’s shoulders and shimmied the sides back and forth until Willow laughed.

Placing a sure hand on Willow’s shoulder, Abby said, “They keep the new arrivals in the back. They know me here. Let the treasure hunt begin.”

Abby’s enthusiasm was contagious. Willow actually smiled as she followed Abby’s long strides.

After exchanging a quick hug with an employee named Kara, Abby pointed to Willow and filled her friend in. Kara led them to an antique dresser in the back room of the shop. Atop it sat a pile of goods and a price gun, its roll of price stickers trailing down the dresser.

“This came from an estate yesterday. We received a large donation. Mostly furniture, but this might help Willow.” Kara lifted the lid off a white box, pulled out a robin’s egg blue chiffon dress, and gave it a good shake. “I don’t think it was ever worn. It looks brand-new.” Kara held the dress against Willow and tilted her head. Her glasses slipped from the tip of her nose to dangle from their beaded chain as she tilted her head to study Willow. “Blue is your color.”

Abby cooed and clapped her hands. Kara beamed like a stage mom at a beauty pageant.

“Take it. It won’t bite,” Kara said. “There’s a mirror against the wall.”

Willow padded across the back room to the mirror. She held the dress up. It draped perfectly and fell just below her knees. Abby gently piled Willow’s hair up, letting a few dark tendrils fall around the nape of her neck.

“I have these fabulous silver hair clips you can borrow. And my mom has tons of earrings,” Abby said.

“It’s beautiful.” Willow caressed the fabric taking care not to dislodge any of the jewels that glittered on the skirt. She spun toward Kara, “Is there a place I can try it on?”

“The mop closet is over there. It’s empty if you want to give it a whirl.” Smile lines formed around Kara’s warm eyes.

Willow smiled back, opened the door, and slipped inside. When she came out of the dressing room, she couldn’t help but do a little spin and a tiny skip. She ran her hands down the sides, trying to keep her smile from exploding. “I love it.” Willow twirled in front of the mirror. The diaphanous fabric was so soft, it floated around her like a symphony of butterfly’s wings. It fit as if it was made for her every curve. “How much is it?”

“Today’s your lucky day. The dress is going for thirteen dollars,” Kara said with a wink. “Get dressed and I’ll meet you at the cash register. You have to promise me a picture. My daughter never went to any dances.”