T*Witches: Double Jeopardy (9 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE HAT TRICK

They were inside a narrow room, a space capsule with cheap black velvet and faux leopard skin stapled to the walls and an orange shag carpet on the floor. The fabric was ripped in spots and rusty metal showed through.

It wasn’t until they saw Dylan collapsed in a corner that Cam and Alex realized that they were looking at the interior of RideBoy’s van, which he’d apparently done up like some kind of den.

Dylan was curled up on his side. His cheek was bruised, puffy, scraped. They were looking down at him.

“Wise guy, right?” they heard. “What are you, a junior G-man or something?”

“Junior G-man? What are you, Dick Tracy?” Dylan sneered, rolling onto his back.

A hand lashed out and struck his injured cheek. Droplets of blood formed at the cut. Dylan, his hands bound with clothesline rope, tried to scramble to his feet. The hand shot out again, pushing him back down.

“He’s tied up,” Cam whispered, appalled.

“Hold the crystal steady,” Alex commanded, wrinkling her nose. Her hands stunk of burned mandrake root and henbane. She didn’t like standing there, shivering, in the eerie, swamp-stinking circle of rocks. But the spell Thantos had taught them was working.

She and Cam were seeing Dylan from his kidnapper’s point of view — more specifically, from the point of view of the slimebag’s hat.

“He’s getting back into the driver’s seat,” Cam said. “Als! Isn’t that the road we just drove over? He’s heading toward Salem —”

“Duh. Where he’s going to dump Dylan in the woods,” Alex reminded her. “And the credits are going to roll on this part of the movie —”

She opened her eyes, stretched, and blinked at the fading daylight, while Cam kept hers shut, clinging to the crystal and the cap.

It had been like watching a miniseries. Following
Dylan’s earring had been part one. Today’s episode filled in what had happened after the earring fell out.

The potbellied guy had looked up (startled at Dylan’s “Yo, dude, wait up!” Alex assumed). From the point of view of the grungy knit cap, they saw Dylan walking slowly toward the man.

“What do you want?” the guy had called to him. “Hey, what are you doing, taking down my license number? What’s up with you, kid?”

Dylan had turned abruptly and pulled out a cell phone — which Kenya might have lent him, or it could have been Robbie Meeks’s, Cam thought. Anyway, he had a cell phone for about a minute … just until the blubbery bozo ran after him, knocked the phone out of his hand, and dragged him, in a headlock, back to the rusty red van.

Dyl struggled. He got in a solid punch, a kick or two, and had almost wriggled out of the headlock, when the perv picked up a piece of pipe and put out Dylan’s lights with a blow to the side of his head.

“What a sleaze,” Alex had hollered, outraged, as the man threw Dylan into the back of his van and pulled shut the sliding door.

“Whoops. There it is,” Cam said, still staring through the quartz crystal. “The pig’s trying to shove Dyl out of
the van. Dylan’s trying to grab the guy’s head with his hands tied. Alex, look. He got his hat instead. And … there goes my bro, hat’s-eye view, sailing out of the van, rolling over and over down a hill, bouncing in ditches and against trees. Ugh! No wonder Dylan looked so beat up when we found him.”

She straightened up, a little green at the gills. “That was majorly disgusting.”

“Hang on,” Alex said, keeping Cam’s hands clamped around the hat. “Don’t forget the rest. We’ve got to find RideBoy before he hooks up with some other gullible girl —”

“Do you remember how it goes?” Cam asked. “It’s like:
From this crummy dumby’s cap show us how —”

“Maybe we’d better stick with the original words,” Alex suggested.

“Fine.” Cam rolled her eyes.
“From this
object
show us how, with herbs and stones so rare —”

“We may find RideBoy now,”
Alex recited,
“and see how he does fare.”

Their eyelids grew instantly heavy and fluttered shut. Their hearts jumped into their throats as they were hurled backward, up over the van, above the highway, farther and farther into space until they could see the rusty blood-colored truck making its way toward the narrow streets of Salem town center.

They saw the van leisurely cruising along a cobblestone avenue near the historically restored wharf. Three times RideBoy circled the area, each time driving more slowly.

The pier was dotted with strolling tourists. A young girl was sitting on an outdoor table at one of the food stalls. She was surveying the sparse crowd, craning her neck, looking this way and that. The girl was obviously searching for someone, waiting for something —

“She’s it,” Alex cried. “She’s his next victim. We’ve got to find a way to warn her!”

“Als, look! There’s a police car parked in front of that gift shop,” Cam shouted.

“That’s probably why the predator hasn’t stopped.”

“I can phone them,” Cam said. “I mean, I can phone 911 and explain what’s shaking —”

“Can you read the numbers on the cop cruiser?” Alex asked, eyes still shut, hands holding on to Cam’s. “Then you can tell 911 there’s already a patrol car on the scene.”

“Okay,” Cam said after a moment. “I’ve got it.” Pulling away from her sister, she flipped open her cell phone and punched in the police emergency digits.

With a grunt of disgust, Alex threw down the knit cap and walked toward the water. Her intention was to clean the herbal ashes from her hands. She wished she
could as easily wash away the ugly scenes Thantos’s trick had revealed.

Suddenly, everything was freaking her — her dirty hands, the feeling that the forest was full of spirits, the voices she’d heard in the woods, the weird circle of rocks she’d stumbled upon in the middle of nowhere, the thick soggy leaves and wet sand underfoot, the quickly descending darkness, even the sound of wind whistling across the water. And then there was Cam’s feeling or premonition or vision of Karsh as a cold, gray, changed being.

About the only consolation, Alex thought, elbowing roughly through the rattling cattails, was the pale face of the full moon overhead.

But where was Karsh? Where was Ileana? Did Miranda’s appearance have anything to do with their disappearances?

Alex shuddered. In spite of the chill night air, she felt a rush of hot rage.

No biggie, she told herself as her hypersensitive ears caught the slam of a car door from the road above.

Anger was her element. And what had just happened was an old familiar flipperoo, an emotion exchange. She’d morphed upset into anger. Annoyance, resentment, irritation, Alex would take them over sadness, self-pity, and disappointment any day of the week.

And speaking of exchanges, she mused miserably, had their guardians okayed one without bothering to check it out with them? Had Karsh and Ileana made some whack deal since their mother was back in the picture that Miranda and Uncle T would take Karsh’s and Ileana’s places?

“Help!!!”

Alex spun around.

In the bright moonlight, a blonde wrapped in a cocoon of cobalt-blue silk was rolling wretchedly down the hill. The tumbling creature landed against the fern-cushioned base of a tree. “Is on the way!” she finished.

“ Ileana?!” Alex called.

“Is it really you?” Cam rushed toward the fallen woman. “Yes! How excellent. I knew you’d come.”

“Help me up!” the imperious witch demanded, extending her hand.

Alex ran back through the reeds to the rock circle. Together, she and Cam heaved Ileana to her stiletto-sandaled feet.

Their guardian was a mess. One of her heels was broken. Her golden hair, plastered with leaves, looked greasy and unkempt. Her naturally pale face was sallow and gaunt, made more startling by the dark rings around her once-lively gray eyes. And her robe, torn from her fall, was caked in grime.

“All right, then.” Ileana dusted off what she could. “Fill me in. What’s the problem?”

Alex and Cam looked at each other, confused. Normally — though that was hardly a word they associated with their quick-witted guardian — Ileana would not have had to ask. Especially since they’d been pretty precise about their predicament when they’d sent for her.

“Well, it was about Dylan,” Cam said.

“But we’ve found him. And we’ve also situat — I mean,
located
,” Alex quickly corrected herself, not wanting to tip the volatile witch to the fact that they knew the forbidden Situater spell. “We located this evil creep who’s been stalking girls on the Internet.”

“I just called the police and told them where to find him,” Cam added.

“And you did this … all by yourselves?” Ileana asked.

Uh-oh, Alex thought, she’d blown it. Ileana had read her mind and now knew they’d been performing tracker magick, unauthorized spells. Flinching, she waited for their guardian to explode.

Cam must have come to the same conclusion, because she took her sister’s hand and they both stood looking up at Ileana as if she were wearing judge’s robes and not one good shoe and a ratty, wrinkled gown.

The explosion came. But it was an eruption so weird that it rendered Alex and Cam speechless. Instead of raging at them, Ileana wept.

The distraught, disheveled witch swayed before them, her face hidden in her hands, her thin shoulders wracked with sobs.

They didn’t know what to do. Their instincts were muddled by shock. To comfort their independent guardian might infuriate her, but to witness her meltdown without doing or saying anything seemed cruel.

“Don’t look at me,” Ileana cried. “I’m so ashamed.”

The baffled twins responded at the same time: “Ashamed? Get out —” Alex blurted; “No, no, it’s okay,” Cam crooned reassuringly.

Ileana limped over to one of the large rocks surrounding the circle and sat down. “I’m useless,” she wailed, “and what’s worse, I’m
unnecessary
! You didn’t need me at all. You handled everything without my help. Thantos was here, wasn’t he?”

She leaped to her feet and struck a more familiar Ileana pose — eyes flashing, hands on her hips. “And he helped you, didn’t he?”

Without thinking, Cam nodded.

“At what price?” Ileana demanded. “Are you going over to the dark side now or after your initiation? Oh, don’t tell me,” she snarled sarcastically. “He blabbed,
right? Gave you all the Coventry skinny? Dished the dirt, did he? He didn’t happen to mention that
he’s my father
?!”

“Well, actually —” Cam began.

“We —” Alex started.

“Or did you already know that?” Ileana cut them off. “As, it seems, everybody did but me! Talk about the dark side, I’ve been in the dark for years! Well, don’t worry. You won’t have to put up with me much longer. I’m thinking of leaving Coventry.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

INTRUDERS IN THE CIRCLE

“I knew it, I knew it!” Alex ranted, startling Cam as well as Ileana. “You made a deal, didn’t you? You and Karsh. You’re dropping us. You’re turning us over to … to a mother who’s a total stranger to us and can’t even do the Transporter spell on her own and … and a father —
yours!
— who is probably the coldest warlock on the planet!”

It was the shaken witch’s turn to be speechless. Biting her lip, Ileana turned her head abruptly. Though her classically carved nose and obstinate chin were thrust in the air, her gray eyes seemed ready to gush again.

“Is that true?” Cam gasped. “Are we being … dumped?”

“Well, tell her,” Alex demanded. “Are you
bored
with us? Are we cutting into your precious
schmooze
time with Hollywood hotties? And what’s the story on Karsh?”

“He’d never leave us,” Cam interjected nervously. “I mean, Als, he’s been with us forever. And we didn’t do anything to upset him. Did we?” she asked Ileana.

“Of course not!” a rasping voice responded cheerfully. Parting the low hanging branches of a soaring evergreen, stepping carefully over the border stones, Karsh entered the circle.

Cam and Alex’s delight was multiplied by awe at the sight of the old warlock.

He looked magnificent!

Their guardian’s guardian was decked out as they’d never seen him. Over his familiar black velvet trousers, vest, and waistcoat, he wore a thin cloak. Embroidered in gold threads, interwoven with sparkling gems, it shimmered in the moonlight, floating like wings behind him. From a scarlet ribbon, his Exalted Elder’s medallion glinted on his chest like a warrior’s campaign decoration.

Most stunning of all, Karsh’s face, which was usually covered with the ghostly white powder he wore to preserve his aged skin — and to rivet the attention of
fidgety fledglings — was bare and warmly brown. Even his nappy white hair looked neatly trimmed.

So Cam and Alex were totally bewildered when, upon seeing this elegant, “new” Karsh, Ileana fell to her knees before him and began to cry again. “Oh, no. Please no,” she sobbed. “It can’t be time.”

To their further amazement, Karsh did nothing to comfort her, but lay a wizened hand on her head.

“So you found your brother?” he said to the twins, all smiles and kindness. “I’m very proud of you both. Though, you must know, I always have been. I passed Dylan on my way to you. He’s sound asleep. I took the liberty of placing some healing herbs on his wounds, which were not grave in any case.”

Cam glanced at Alex.
Why does he sound that way?
she silently asked.
So serious
—

Alex had been wondering the same thing. “Are you going to leave us?” she blurted.

“I came to find Ileana,” Karsh said, finessing the question. “Your guardian worked very hard during a recent trial, and it’s affected her health. But not seriously.”

The last phrase was clearly meant for Ileana. “In fact, with a little rest, perhaps some reading — I have several volumes that would be of interest to her. I think you’d particularly enjoy
Forgiveness or Vengeance:
Righting Ancient Wrongs,”
he told the still-weeping witch. “She’ll be fine, stronger than ever, in fact.”

The warlock glanced quickly, suspiciously, over his shoulder.

Alex tried to pick up whatever it was Karsh had heard. By concentrating very hard, she could make out distant footsteps. They might belong to deer wandering as they grazed or rabbits scrambling through the underbrush, but they sounded as if they came from creatures that were bigger, clumsier.

Or
, Cam got into it, taking off from Alex’s thoughts,
some of those icky, touchy-feely spirits we passed on the way in
.

Suddenly, Ileana shuddered. She looked up at Karsh. “What have you done? I know this. I smell it,” she said, alarmed.

“You see, my astute witch —” He paused, but Ileana did not demand that he call her goddess. “Your senses … your sensibilities … are already improving.”

Ileana stood abruptly. “It’s danger I smell. Not who or what brings it,” she complained.

Taking their cue from Ileana, Alex sniffed the air, while Cam squinted to scan the outer edges of the circle.

“Ugh. Cheap cologne and oily hair tonic can so not cover up ripe body odor,” Alex analyzed the fumes.

“Cheap cologne … Did you hear her?” Ileana’s eyes
widened. She seized Karsh’s lapels and searched his ruddy face. “It could only be … What are they doing here? How did they find us?”

Karsh shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s my fault,” he said sadly. “They must have followed me —”

“Who are they?” Alex asked, listening intently to the noises in the woods. Whoever was out there reeked memorably. And, though they were huffing and puffing rather than talking, their mean and manic thoughts sounded distantly familiar to her.

“I know them,” Cam said all at once. “I mean, I’ve seen them before. Als, it’s Dumb and Dumber, the dorks from the bowling alley —”

“Right!” That was exactly who they sounded like, the two weird strangers who’d dissed Cam’s game a couple of weeks back. No one knew them or remembered seeing them before, but they were at the bowling alley that night — one stumpy, the other tall, both sourly checking out Alex and Cam.

Now, suddenly, they’d crashed through the trees and were standing in the moonlit clearing. Hunched over, their arms dangling apelike at their sides, their beady eyes were fixed on Ileana.

Who actually looked frightened.

Ileana, afraid? Impossible, Cam thought.

Alex had a similar take on Karsh. The ancient warlock
was glaring at the intruders with withering scorn. She’d never seen the gentle tracker look so disgusted.

“What do you want?” he asked the boys, not bothering to disguise his disdain.

“Not you.” Vey, the fireplug-shaped weight lifter, laughed. He trundled past Karsh, elbowing the old man out of his way, and went straight for Ileana.

Tsuris, his brother, slunk swiftly around Cam and Alex and approached the alarmed witch from the other side.

Do something!
Alex silently urged Ileana.
Turn them into the worms they are; paralyze them with a gray-eyed glare; transport them to another universe
.

If Ileana heard her, she gave no sign.

“I am not responsible for sending your father to jail,” she was trying to tell Vey. She spun around as Tsuris crept up behind her. “Your father, Fredo, confessed to a heinous crime,” she told him. “He killed his brother. That’s why he was put away.”

They’re Fredo’s sons?
Cam asked her sister.

Oh, please, no
. Alex groaned.
That makes them …

Our cousins!

Suddenly, the brothers lunged at Ileana.

Karsh raised both his arms, his embroidered cape flaring wide behind him. A sparkling substance that resembled
liquid confetti flew from his hands, falling like colored rain on Tsuris and Vey.

Tsuris, the taller of the oafs — his face now rainbow-streaked — fell to his knees. He grabbed at Ileana’s blue robe as he went down, tearing its already bedraggled hem.

His brother, Vey, less speckled, shook his head, like a dog drying itself. Colored splotches flew from him.

A splash of scarlet landed on Alex’s shoulder. The liquid seeped through her waterproof jacket and flannel shirt, leaving a pleasant puddle of heat on her skin — and the certainty that she could no longer move her shoulder.

It was a totally bizarre feeling. She knew she was not paralyzed, not technically, not physically, but she could not — would not — move, first her shoulder and then, as the sensation flowed downward, her arm and hand.

“Go!” she heard Karsh call to Ileana as Tsuris and Vey stumbled around the shaking blond witch. “Go home now. Rest. And
read
, my goddess! Read, as I instructed you. Go now. Run.”

But Ileana was frozen to the spot. She stood staring down at the writhing Technicolor-splashed brothers.

“Come on,” Cam cried to Alex. “There’s something
wrong with her. Her mojo’s gone south. And she can’t move.”

“I totally relate,” Alex said, willing her hand to flex, her arm to raise. Well, her feet still worked, she remembered, and she dashed after Cam to the center of the circle where Ileana stood paralyzed by confetti or fright.

As she reached for Ileana, a hand circled Cam’s ankle and held her fast. She looked down to see Tsuris hanging on to her. She tried to shake him off but his grip was iron tight.

“Get off me, you skanky goon!” she heard her sister cry.

When she looked up, Cam saw that Vey was standing behind Alex and had both his hammy arms around her neck. His snarling face was pressed against her ear. “It’s not your turn,” he sneered. “First we take care of cousin Ileana. Then maybe we’ll figure out what to do with you —”

Alex barely heard him. All she wanted was his cologne-sprayed sweat, wet lips, and greasy hair as far from her as she could get them. She spun with all her might, lifting her knee at the same time.

With a deafening “HOOOF,” Vey’s arms spread, releasing her. And then they folded across his gut, and he keeled over. His large head splashed into a puddle of blue confetti.

“Hey!” Tsuris called to Alex, still clasping Cam’s ankle. “You can’t do that!”

“I am her guardian and I say, yes, she can!” Suddenly, Ileana stepped forward on her one good shoe, forward onto Tsuris’s wrist. She ground her pointy heel into his leathery tanned skin — and his clenched fingers opened.

Cam quickly withdrew her foot. “You go, girl,” she hollered. “And I mean, really. Go, Ileana. Do what Karsh said!”

Tsuris was holding his wrist and rocking back and forth. Alex rushed over to him and brushed the remains of the liquid red confetti from her jacket onto the howling man’s back. His rocking and howling stopped at the same time. He tried to turn, to see who had done that to his back, then realized he couldn’t move. His thin face froze in a glare of disbelief and betrayal.

“No,” Ileana told Cam. “I can’t. I won’t.” Looking over at Karsh, she said, “I can’t. Please, please don’t ask me to leave you now.”

The old warlock went to her and gently took her arm. “Silly goddess. Let me walk you to the road —”

“Karsh, my friend, my mentor, my only father — please,” Ileana begged.
Let me wait with the boy
, Alex heard her thinking. And Karsh did, too.
I’ll stay with young Dylan. He’ll be frightened if he wakes alone in the forest. Please, Karsh, don’t send me away now
.

Alex looked at Cam. But her sister had heard only what their guardian witch had said aloud. Why, Alex wondered, would Ileana, who was always in a hurry, who always claimed she had “bigger fish to fry” and “places to go, people to see,” whose very life was in danger here, be so reluctant to leave?

“Come.” Karsh led Ileana through the aisle of tall trees toward the glen where Dylan slept.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Cam asked, looking warily at their out-of-commission cousins.

“Phone Dave and Emily?” Alex suggested, though she had no idea what to tell them other than that Dylan was safe. She supposed that was enough.

“How’s your shoulder?” Cam asked.

Alex stretched. “Feels okay. That stuff didn’t last all that long.”

“Well, that’s good,” Cam said. They heard a noise behind them. “Or maybe not?” she whispered.

“Change of plans!” Vey lifted his head from the dirt; his little pig’s eyes twinkled mischievously. Heaving himself up, he said, “Congratulations! You just moved to the head of the list!”

Tsuris was already sitting up. The sullen look on his face melted to one of glee as he got to his feet and focused on Alex.

“Um, we’re witches,” she said, backing up. “Just want to remind you.”

He laughed and kept on coming.

“Yeah, girl witches,” Alex heard Vey mock. “
Little
girl witches —”

“Actually, my sister’s got some pretty
hot
tricks.” Alex didn’t dare take her eyes off Tsuris. She couldn’t see Cam, but she was reasonably sure her twin had gotten the message. To make certain, she sent her a telepathic IM.
Fire up your eyes; let’s fry these hot dogs
—

Too late
, Cam’s response came flying back.

Alarmed, Alex turned.

Vey had her sister pushed face-first against a tree. All Cam could burn in that direction was the trunk. The low-to-the-ground greaser was reaching for a rock. His pudgy fingers strained toward one that was big enough to do serious damage.

Alex took a step in Cam’s direction. A burst of pain tore through her scalp as Tsuris held her back by her spiky hair.

“Where you going, little witchy?” he crooned cruelly. “Plenty of rocks around here. Enough for both of you. How do you think you’d look with your head all streaked red?”

Alex wriggled in Tsuris’s grasp. “Been there, done
that,” she said with more bravado than she felt. She thought about moving something — a rock, a branch, a fistful of dirt — tossing it at her captor telekinetically. But she couldn’t focus on anything. He was moving her too fast, leading her by the hair to the tree where Cam was being held.

“Want to do it together?” he asked his brother. “Like it’ll be one, two, and on three, we’ll hit ’em in the head with stones, okay?”

Vey had finally managed to grab one of the rocks from the circle. “Okay, hurry,” he said.

Still hanging on to Alex’s hair, Tsuris crouched down to choose a stone of his own. He was really making a production of it. Painfully arched in a back bend, Alex could hear him mumbling, trying to decide on which one would best do the job — the job of smashing her head.

From that upside-down view she saw Karsh approaching. She didn’t actually see him as much as deduce from the moonlit glitter and gold of what had to be his cape that he had returned to the clearing.

He saw the brutish louts lifting their stones. He was far enough away to be safe, Alex realized, feeling the strangest rush of relief.

Then suddenly, he was beside them, breaking Tsuris’s and Vey’s hold on the twins, spinning the brutes
away with a strength no man his age could muster. “You will not harm them,” Karsh declared.