Chapter 9: A Meeting
Mona’s heavy footsteps cross the sidewalk and turn into her front yard. She pauses, I suspect, right on the other side of where I’m hidden. My body stiffens, and I hold my breath. I hear her spin in place, most likely scanning the yard. After a long moment, she walks up the stairs. The front door creaks open, and she slams it shut behind her.
I exhale. That was close.
I turn around and jump to my feet, gripping the letter. I take a quick breath of relief. Then I run—fast.
Mona. Mona. Mona.
British Stalker Boy was right. I needed to hear that. I’m not sure how he knew, but I don’t care because I finally have an answer to something. My November “trip” to Chicago wasn’t a premonition or a dream. I think I have some kind of freaky supernatural gift—my mom’s gift. Wandering.
I’m too busy deliberating on what I’ve just learned to focus on a graceful landing when I return from my trip. The clumsy crash into the Strovels’ front hedges dumps a pile of hardened snow all over me. Pinpricks of pain jab my legs as I untangle myself from the scratchy limbs. Each stab punches holes through my new tights.
A multicolored mitten grabs my arm and yanks me out of the shrub with unexpected force. Mona.
I stand dumbfounded, unsure if I’m in some kind of trouble. She glances over me, assessing the situation. “What’s going on?” She folds her arms. Her forehead crunches into a V, and her hazel eyes pressure for an answer.
She puts her hand over her mouth and turns away. I realize she isn’t angry; she’s just suppressing a laugh. “However did you end up buried in the hedges?” A giggle escapes.
“Uh…” I fumble over my words. It’s harder to lie to Mona when I haven’t prepared for it.
She squats down and picks up the letter. I must have dropped it when I landed. “What’s this?” She holds it up.
“Oh—uh—I ah, saw it in the hedges and tried to reach in to grab it. That’s when I lost my balance and fell in.” I lie and point toward the crumpled mail, forcing a smile.
“Looks like it’s been here for about two weeks.” She flips it from side to side, eyeing the postmarked date. “I wondered where the electric bill went off to.” She smiles.
“Mona, do you mind if I go hang with some friends?” I brush the snow off my coat, acting casual.
“That’s fabulous. I’m so very glad you’re making friends.” She puts her arm around my shoulder as we walk toward the house.
“You’re home early,” I say.
“Yes, I have a friend coming over. I want to tidy up before they arrive. When will you be leaving? I was hoping you would be here to meet them.”
“Actually, I’m leaving to go over to Xavier’s now.”
“Oh.” She seems surprised. “Okay. Is that Xavier Blackburn, then?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a nice boy.” She reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “When will you be home?” she asks just as I’m spinning on my heels to walk away. “Don’t you want to change your tights? They’re all ripped from the hedges.” She points to my legs.
“Nah, they look cool this way—right?” I twirl once, and then I jog. I want to dodge her first question. When I’m far enough away, I skip toward the end of the block, waving goodbye over my shoulder.
“What time, Seraphina?” Mona’s question carries through the wind.
I twirl and shrug in her direction, then dart around the corner before she can press the issue further. Better not to be held accountable for any particular time. I know there’s less chance of getting in trouble that way.
On the chilly walk to Xavier’s house, I carefully catalogue the names Mona mentioned while on the phone. I say each name aloud, adding them to my list of weird. “CC, Samantha, Max, Terease.” And then my current list. “Lady in Black, Francis Germ Bum, the Grungy Gang, British Stalker Boy, and Wandering.”
My memories dance around the boy. I remember his lovely green eyes—perfect, upset, laughing, and finally disappointed. Amazing how all those expressions were conveyed in our last meeting.
With so many terrifying and unexplainable things bombarding me, how come all I can think about is a stupid boy? A stupid, beautiful boy. I harrumph aloud and try not to think about his voice, his eyes, or his one lonely dimple.
I force my attention to a song, letting the melody float through my head and allowing it to consume my thoughts. However, he never really goes away. He lingers at the edge of my mind. Without paying attention, I find myself composing a new song, one that reminds me of him.
Several blocks away, I turn and walk down an alley. Garages and trash cans line the street, stray cats dart between them, and white clouds of steam seep from rusted manhole covers. I follow the music of Xavier’s band. It leads me into the side door of a run-down, two-car garage. When I walk in, the music stops. Space heaters buzz, warming the room. Band equipment commandeers the center of the floor. Old furniture and yard tools litter the edges.
“Hey, guys.” I wave.
“Hey!” I receive a collective nod.
I take a seat on a brown plaid couch with coarse fabric. Macey, already here, rushes to greet me, gives me a hug, and drapes herself on the opposite side of the sofa. She throws her feet on my knees and lounges back to position her hands behind her head.
“Comfortable?” I ask, smirking.
“Very,” she insists, then turns her attention to the band.
The count of the drumsticks sends Xavier’s band into their next song. To my intense surprise, they’re really good. In no time, the music takes us over. Macey and I jump to our feet and dance. When they finish playing two hours later, we both clap and jump with excitement.
“That was amazing!” I say.
“You think?” Xavier steps away from the equipment and toward us. His band members, Scarlett and Agnes, continue playing, working out the details of the music.
“Oh, it definitely was,” Macey adds. There’s a new sparkle in her smile when she looks at Xavier.
“Awesome!” Xavier says, but he seems more pleased with the new attention from Macey than the compliments on his musical abilities.
“Sera, you wanna jam with us for the next set?” Xavier asks.
“Tempting, but I think I have to pass. I need to get home. Maybe next week?”
“Cool. Next week.” He turns to Macey, “Are you leaving, too?” His voice trails off.
“No, I think I’ll hang a little longer, if it’s okay with you?” Macey bites her lower lip and flips her large brown curls.
•
Night hangs over the bright lights of the city when I step into Mona’s yard. From outside I hear her rich laughter, even before I open the tall Victorian front door. I will try to make my meeting with Mona’s friend quick, and excuse myself to my room. There’s a lot to mull over with the information I secretly obtained today.
I drop my coat on a wall hook then kick off my salt-encrusted boots in the vestibule. Teacups clank, returning to their saucers. Mona and her friend become quiet. Maybe I’m going to meet her secret boyfriend. I smile. This should be good.
Mona stands to greet me as I walk into the living room. But I freeze in place when I meet a second pair of eyes—the horrible, controlling, onyx eyes from my memory—the Lady in Black. She stands five feet away and in dangerously close proximity to Mona. My gaze flicks back and forth between the two figures.
How has she found me?
My breathing quickens. I step away slowly, both palms facing down as though I’m balancing between life and death.
The Lady slithers, uncoiling her darkness.
Mona assesses the situation and walks toward me with her arms open, but the gesture holds no comfort. She wraps her arms around my waist in a hug, but I’m still tense. Over Mona’s shoulder, I lock eyes with the Lady in Black.
“Seraphina.” Mona speaks softly into my ear. “This is my good friend, Terease Ivanov.” Mona turns and gestures to the lady.
r /> I mentally remove the Lady in Black from my list of weird as Terease reaches out her pale hand. I step back two paces to maintain a safe distance. I avert my eyes to the side, remembering our last agonizing encounter. “Who are you?” I ask, staring at the ground.
“This is Terease. Didn’t you hear me?” Mona’s voice cracks.
“No, I mean, what are you?” I demand. My jaw tightens.
“Ah, she remembers. As I mentioned, Mona, I’m not sure how this one works. She perplexes even me.” Her voice is thick with an accent. I peek up quickly. Terease smiles, but not in the way I remember. Her curled lips read as feigned friendliness.
My gaze skitters back and forth between Mona and Terease, remembering they’re “friends.”
“How can you be friends with her?” How is that even possible?
Stepping away, I hold one hand out behind me, searching for the stair’s banister, an escape. “She’s evil—a devil,” I say, looking at Mona.
Mona reaches for me and pulls me close. She’s trying to comfort me, but I’m not having it. “No, that’s not the case. If you will sit, we can explain,” Mona says.
Angrily, I break away from her and step back. The witch-snake slithers closer. Her pupils enlarge, and I gasp out loud as my gaze locks with hers again. I see the flames. The horrible, excruciating flames burn my thoughts into slaves. I try to push her out but, as before, she plants herself in my mind, feeding the fire with her ink-blotted eyes, violating my soul. Beads of sweat drip down my neck. The air thickens with humidity. Sulfur laces my tongue. Paralyzed in pain, I drop to my knees.
“Terease, stop!” Mona yells.
Terease unwillingly releases the fire. Her hesitation burns in my mind as I collapse to my side on the floor. I’m sweating, shivering, and so weak that I can’t even lift my hand to rub my pounding head. A moan escapes me.
“What are you doing?” Mona demands of Terease.
“Merely a test, Mona.” Terease’s voice darkens with an edge of pleasure.
“How dare you. Get out!” Mona screams, pointing to the door.
“I definitely cannot figure this one out,” Terease hisses. She leans down. Her black eyes drill into mine. “I’ve never met anyone who could feel my presence when I’m searching. We must chat about it…when you are composed, of course.” Her red lips twist, and she laughs deeply in the back of her throat as she stands, towering above me. She steps over my body and slinks away. She grabs her caped coat and swings it through the air. It lands, draped, across her shoulders. Finally, she ducks into the shadow of the front alcove to leave.
The front door slams behind her; its glass windows rattle. The house pulses a breath of relief. Wood and stone within the structure release the tension of her presence, moaning as though the house is alive. The room opens into airiness. I hadn’t realized that the atmosphere had been so dark and bleak.
Mona kneels beside me. Confused, I search her face, looking for answers. “What’s happening to me?”