The Curse of Arkady (19 page)

Rich patted his friend's shoulder and stared off into the gathering night. Magick used to seem fun. Even when it was bothersome. Now it seemed downright dangerous.

 

. . . And,
typed Bailey quickly,
she's leaving Saturday night and I won't see her for months and months!

Have you talked to her yet? And you can't be like that, Bailey, we've got the crystals and the computers. We'll be in touch with her constantly. She may even be better off up there, out of the Curse's reach.
Jason pondered that. Did the Curse have a circle that it affected, and could it be escaped from? Like a field or area of infection?

Jason stared at his computer screen. For a second he wondered if Bailey would be able to communicate at all if they took the exclamation key off her keyboard. The thought made him grin.
She'll be fine,
he told Bailey.
Do you think Gavan or Eleanora would let anything happen to her?
On the other hand . . . and Jason stared at his left hand splayed over the keyboard, his scar meeting his inspection. On the other hand, they hadn't prevented
that
, or the attack a few days ago. And without a beacon working reliably, could the elders help any of them?

Or were they on their own with only each other to depend upon?

Bailey shot back at him—how fast did she type, anyway? Faster than she talked, which was like a bullet.
I want to get together Saturday to say good-bye. All of us, if we can.

That might be a little risky. Crystal travel was something they hadn't quite mastered, but he didn't want Bailey any more upset than she already was. So he answered, carefully,
Sounds like fun. I'll see what I can arrange.

She signed off after telling him a quick joke, and the computer was suddenly very still. Funny how Bailey could just fill up a place, even when she wasn't actually in it. He turned off his computer, pushed the keyboard aside, and pulled over his algebra book, his thoughts churning round and round as if he were still doing laps around a soccer field. Whatever the Curse of Arkady was, they had all better start working on a cure.

“H
OUSE of the Flower Dragon,” Ting repeated slowly.

Jiao Chuu smiled and teased her daughter gently. “As many times as you have visited my mother's house and you never noticed it was so named?” She took a sweater and folded it softly into the suitcase spread open on the bed as Ting sorted through keep-sakes she wanted to take or leave behind.

Ting shook her head. “I only remembered the dragon along the roof. I don't think I ever bothered to look much closer.” She studied the photo taken of her, her mother, and her grandmother a year ago last summer, all of them standing in front of her grandmother's San Francisco home. Behind them, a long, serpentine dragon coiled upon the roof tiles.

Chinese dragons were so different from European dragons, from the kind that Jason and Trent talked about facing in their D & D games. Far from looking like some kind of dinosaur, Chinese dragons were long and thin and incredibly agile, a source of great wisdom and knowledge, as well as fierceness and honor. She had always known their dragon was a protector and guardian, but she had never before noticed the bright chrysanthemums he carried or wore sometimes in a garland about his neck. The bronze flower petals had been cloisonne enameled a brilliant orange-red. She looked at the picture of her grandmother's home again. “Can I scan this and send it to Bailey? I want to tell her she's got Lacey, but I've got a dragon!”

Jiao laughed gently. “Perhaps when we get settled in. Your father already has the computer boxed up.”

Ting nodded, and put aside the photo to pack. She looked up at her mother, who was beautiful in many ways, but who seemed tired and a little sad this day. “You had something you wanted to tell me?”

Jiao sat down next to her daughter. “Plans have changed yet again. We'll be flying up early Saturday instead of driving on Sunday.”

Oh, no! Ting flinched at her words, but said nothing. All of this was hard enough on her mother without her making it worse, but she'd miss their gathering! What would Bailey think? And all the others?

“I'm sorry,” continued Jiao. “I know you had plans to go for pizza with everyone, but Father thought it would be easier and safer for us to fly up and we'll be with Grandmother that much more quickly.”

That was, after all, what was important. Ting nodded, soft black wings of hair tickling the sides of her face as she did. “I'll call and explain,” she said. “And they'll understand. That's what friends are for.”

Her mother stood without another word except to hug her quickly before moving off to finish her own packing. Her outwardly calm face, as usual, hid her true emotions, but Ting knew the worry in her eyes would not leave till Grandmother was well again.

Ting tapped the crystal on her homemade bracelet. She'd miss everyone, and especially the shenanigans Bailey had planned, but there was no helping it. Anyway, a short flight would be much easier on everyone than a long drive. Bailey and Jason would have to wait. It's not like she was going away forever or had no way to see them again. She had Magick now.

Already pulled out of school, she waited until afternoon to call Jason so he could pass the word around, not wanting to hear the disappointment in Bailey's voice.

“Hello, McIntire residence.”

Ting recognized the cool tones of Jason's older stepsister Alicia. “Hello, Alicia, it's Ting. Is Jason home yet?”

“Doesn't seem to be. May I take a message?”

“Please, if you would. I won't be able to meet everyone at Trevi's Pizza tomorrow. We're flying up to San Francisco early. Tell him I'm sorry, but I'll send e-mail as soon as my computer arrives and gets all set up.”

“Will do. Sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

“She will be all right, I think. It's just going to take a while. Thank you,” answered Ting softly before hanging up the phone.

Alicia hung up the kitchen phone and looked around. Breakfast dishes were supposed to be done by Jason before he went to school, but the kitchen looked a mess. She'd have to clean up before everyone else got home. Alicia wrinkled her forehead, then let out a huffy little snort. Funny how messages could be forgotten over kitchen messes!

 

Statler Finch looked at Jason over a cup holder filled with pens and pencils, all with wicked, sharp points. “Since it's been requested, I will make myself available in the early morning for our sessions, Jason, but only if you can assure me you will be here.”

“Once a week.”

“For now. Depending on my findings, I may need to see you more often.”

Jason managed a wry grin. “Depending on how screwed up I am, huh?”

Statler did not smile back. Something cold glinted in his eyes. “Something like that.” He leaned back in his office chair which let out a low squeak. “So. I understand you and your friend get trash-canned every few weeks.”

“Something like that.”

Statler made notes on his yellow legal pad and did not seem to notice the faint echo and irony in Jason's voice. Without looking up, he said, “Tell me how you feel about that.”

“Smelly. And, you know, hassled.”

“Hassled? How?”

Jason thought it should be obvious. He shrugged. “Late for class or soccer workouts. That sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” A thin smile snaked over Statler's lips.

“Trouble.”

“How does trouble make you feel? Anxious? Angry perhaps?”

“It makes me feel a little angry that guys like him get away with it, and I'm the one who gets yelled at. But it's not really all that much, so I don't think about it.”

“You push it aside, then?”

Jason felt the hard chair seat under his thighs and the early morning chill of the school office and tried not to squirm. “Not really. I forget about it because it's not important.”

“What do you mean by that?” Without looking up, Finch skritched lines of notes across his paper pad, the pencil lead dragging with an irritating noise over the yellow lined paper.

“I mean what I said. This time next month or the month after, it's not going to matter. It's not one of the things in life that's important.” At least, that's what he tried to tell himself while he was figuring out how to peel yesterday's old hamburgers off today's book report.

“So you don't have to deal with it?”

“I didn't say that. I have to deal with it every time they do it, but . . . it's not going to matter in the long run as long as I keep my cool. Dozer says it's important to know when to pick your battles and when not to.”

The counselor looked up sharply. “So this is a battle, then?” The pencil lead creaked and scratched furiously.

Jason suppressed a wince. “Not really. I think my stepdad means choosing when you're going to stand and when you're going to give way. Settle.” For a second there, something had flickered in Statler Finch's eyes, and Jason didn't like the looks of it. He reminded himself to choose his words very carefully.

“Tell me about your dreams, Jason.”

There was no way he was going to do that. He looked down at his shoes quickly, in case the defiance showed in his eyes. He shrugged. “Usual stuff, don't remember most of 'em.”

“Any dreams about school?”

“Sometimes. You know. Forget the locker combination, or late to a test. My stepmom says not to worry, those are just anxiety dreams. She says almost everyone gets those.” There was no way on Earth Statler would get him to talk about his nightmares, though. He told no one about those, because he knew that, twisted and dark as they were, they dealt with Magick.

“Perhaps,” Finch responded, making another note.

Jason stared uneasily for a moment, wondering if other people really did have those kinds of dreams or if Joanna was just trying to soften life for him, as she often did.

Before he had the thought finished though, the ten minute warning buzzer sounded for late honors, and he was free, his time up. If he triple hurried, he might make the last of soccer practice. He bolted to his feet.

“Very well, then. Try to have a good weekend and week and I'll see you . . . early . . . next Friday morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Jason lunged for the door and as far away from Statler Finch as his quick feet would carry him.

He was right, he had missed all but the last thirty minutes of soccer and it seemed the coach had saved wind sprints and laps for last today, just for him. Sam was puffing and sweating as he joined him and grinned. Jason didn't mind.

B
AILEY fidgeted on the kitchen chair, pushing her books away from her. Homework, homework. Normally she loved homework, odd as that was, but thinking about losing Ting, seeing her go so far away, and being worried about her friend's grandmother all made her very restless today. Ting had to go, there was no doubt about that; the family needed Jiao Chuu and Ting, but that also left Bailey behind. And who could she share with now? Who would understand what she meant when she worried about things? Her mother didn't, couldn't, know. She shared everything with her mom, but Magicking was one thing she couldn't. Not only did the Oath of Binding keep her jaws wired shut, but just the thought of it kept Bailey from saying anything. It was hard enough being a single mom . . . being a single mom to someone who was learning Magick and could be taken away? Locked up forever while being examined to find out why she was a freak? And what if her father found out and decided it was all her mom's fault and tried to get custody? No. She couldn't put her mom through that!

They could giggle over rock stars with torn jeans and belly buttons showing, teachers who fell asleep in class during homework session, cars that belched blue smoke, boys who said one thing then did another while tripping over their big, sneakered feet . . . but not this. Although, admittedly, Ting was more fun to talk boys with, too . . . sometimes her mom would get this worried expression on her face. As if boys meant anything!

Bailey tapped her pencil on her binder and tried to concentrate on the assignment at hand. She'd actually already done this assignment once, but now that the rest of the class was catching up, she needed to go over it and make sure that she'd been correct. Boring stuff. She decided to chew on her pencil instead.

Lacey chittered from her cage. Bailey checked the kitchen clock. Late autumn meant the sky went dark early, but it was still too early for her to be up. She grinned. Why not take advantage of her usually nocturnal pet? She could use a furry snuggle.

Bailey slid her chair over to the corner bookcase that held the cage and other odds and ends pertaining to the pack rat's care. Lacey sat outside her nest, which consisted of a cardboard toilet paper roll and various fluffs of tissue and newspaper, all chewed up and about the roll inside and out for comfort and warmth. Her little black tufted tail lay curled on a wad of nose tissue, in pale yellows and pinks. Her whiskers twitched. She groomed her face, then looked up expectantly as Bailey removed the lid to reach in for her.

The room spun for a moment. Ceiling seemed to swap places with floor. Bailey had this disconcerting vision of being very small with something large reaching down for her. Everything whirled about Bailey, round and round, and she froze in place, her stomach sickened by the sudden jolting amusement park ride view of her kitchen! Sink and refrigerator and cabinets spun past in a dizzying march. Walls revolved around and around and then came to a clanking halt with a thud that made her eyeballs feel as if they were bouncing for a moment. She closed her eyes tightly, every sense revolting.