DoubleDown V (16 page)

“Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Karen stood, picking up her bag and slipping the strap over her shoulder. She turned to leave the office but paused when Penelope asked, “What makes you think your new friend is gay? Did he tell you so?”

“Um, not exactly, but I definitely got that impression.”

“Well, let me give you this bit of advice. Friendship is a wonderful thing and is to be treasured as precious...but don’t give up on the idea that this may develop into something more. I just have this gut feeling.”

“Thanks...for everything.”

Karen left the office, closing the door behind her, then headed for the front of the library. She had only a few minutes to get halfway across campus, but if she really hauled ass she could just make it and save herself from another of Dr. Wilson’s punctuality lectures. She was almost to the door when someone called her name.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Brittany said, walking up to her. “Where’ve you been?”

“I was in Penelope’s office.”

“You and that weirdo librarian. She must be giving you lessons on how to be a freak.”

Karen opened her mouth to return Brittany’s snarkiness in kind, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “What do you want?”

“Well, I sort of need a favor.”

“And in your world the best segue to asking for a favor is to insult me?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I just really need you to help me out.”

“With what?”

“You see, Derek and I want to get together tonight, but his roommate is sick and so will be at their apartment. And we’d like to spend a little
alone
time, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Yes, Brittany, I’ve somehow managed to crack your oh-so-cryptic code.”

“Are you going to let us use the room tonight or what?”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely....”

“Look, it’s not like I’m kicking you out all night, just until ten or so. Are you going to be a bitch about it or are you going to give me a break?”

Karen rolled her eyes and said, “Even though I’m loathed to do you any favors, it just so happens I was planning to go to Coffee Underground tonight anyway.”

“Really? With who?”

“Just myself.”

“Your little gay friend not going with you?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Hey, I think it’s great that you’ve got a real friend. Maybe now you won’t have to go around talking to trees.”

“What?”

“Summer Peeler from my Bio class said she saw you out talking to a tree.”

“Summer is full of shit.”

“It sounded crazy...but then again we are talking about you, and you just seem to get weirder by the day.”

“You know, on second thought, maybe I won’t go out tonight, just stick around the room and watch the Discovery channel or something.”

“Do what you want, hang around and watch us. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Brittany turned and opened the glass door to leave the library. Karen tensed and unleashed her rage, and the door suddenly swung back and smacked Brittany in the face.

“Ow!” Brittany exclaimed, putting a hand up to her nose. She checked her fingers for blood, then looked around, probably checking to see if anyone had witnessed this. She spotted Karen watching her and snarled; she was obviously more embarrassed than hurt.

Amused, Karen looked on as her roommate pushed the door, slowly this time, and cautiously stepped through. Maybe she shouldn’t be taking pleasure from this; she could have actually hurt Brittany...but she hadn’t. What she had done was wipe that self-satisfied smugness off Brittany’s face, at least for the time being.

With a sigh, Karen left the library herself, resigning herself to one of Wilson’s lectures.

*   *   *

From the doorway of her office, Penelope observed the interaction between Karen and her roommate. Then, smiling, she closed the door.

Karen sat on the last row of the little theater in the back of Coffee Underground. The rows resembled church pews, so much so that she wondered if they had been salvaged from a house of worship that went out of business. But then churches didn’t go out of business, did they?

Onto the small square stage up front stepped a short, round twenty-something fellow with greasy hair and thick glasses, a purple scarf wrapped around his neck. He gave off the air of someone who thought he was much cooler than he actually was. Not that Karen was cool, but she was at least self-aware enough to know it.

“Okay, then,” Purple Scarf said to the crowd (which consisted of only a dozen or so people), “I’m going to finish out Open Mic Poetry Night with a poem of my own. Unless there’s anyone else out there who has something they want to share.”

Purple Scarf paused, raising his eyebrows and scanning the pews. Karen thought she could feel the weight of his eyes when his gaze passed her way, and she scrunched down in her seat. Her bag was resting on her lap, and though there wasn’t much in it, it suddenly felt as heavy as a bowling ball. In the bag with her iPhone, wallet, hair brush, lip gloss, and paperback of
The Help
, was a folder containing a couple of her poems. She’d brought them along, just in case she worked up the courage to get on stage and read them before an audience.

But as the night wore on, it had become painfully obvious that her courage would remain elusive. Still, it was nice to get out, and she’d heard a few good poems. The MC for the night, Purple Scarf, had been quite annoying, though, unloading a steady stream of jokes that only he seemed to find amusing.

“Well then, if there are no other takers, I’ll close out the night with a piece I call ‘The One Who Got Away.’”

A few of those left in the theater got up to leave, and Karen followed suit. She figured this wasn’t anything she really cared to hear. Still, as she walked down the short hallway and up the steps that led to the coffee bar, Purple Scarf’s voice carried as if chasing her.

Your eyes haunt me

Your voice excites me

You made me want you

But you don’t want me

Well, fuck you you teasing bitch!

Karen groaned and wondered just who Purple Scarf was related to that got him the gig as MC of Open Mic Poetry Night. She walked past patrons sitting at tables or in groups on sofas and chairs placed throughout the narrow space of Coffee Underground, everyone ensconced in bubbles of laughter and conversation, little social islands from which she was barred. She saw some faces she recognized from campus, but no one spoke to her and she spoke to no one.

On her way out, she stopped at the front counter and ordered a blueberry-bubble tea for the road. Outside, she walked up the stone steps to street level and turned right on Main, heading toward where she’d parked near the Springwood Cemetery.

She walked down the busy street on autopilot, her feet taking her where she needed to go, weaving her in and out of crowds of people congregated in clusters. Her mind was on other matters. Foremost was Penelope; she was opening Karen’s eyes to so many possibilities. Already she felt less like a freak.

But also on Karen’s mind was Bobby. She definitely liked him, but she didn’t want to get overly invested in someone who would not reciprocate her feelings. True, he hadn’t come out and said he was homosexual. His exact words had been that he “wasn’t like other guys.” What could that mean if not gay? Maybe he just meant that because of his troubles—and clearly he was a troubled young man—he wasn’t in a place for a relationship of any kind right now. Hell, for all Karen knew, Bobby could be on some kind of medication that made him impotent.

There were many variables that might or might not be at play, and Karen supposed she’d never know for sure until she got to know him better. But Penelope had said that she had a gut feeling that this could become more than just a friendship. Perhaps the librarian was just trying to be nice and encouraging, but Penelope had proven she was a powerful woman with a lot of insight into people. Then again, she’d never actually met Bobby. Could she sense things about people she’d never had any contact with?

Karen was musing on all this when she became aware of two people walking with her, one on either side. A stocky man in his mid-forties on her right and a twenty-something wisp of a woman on her left. Could have been coincidence, just a couple of pedestrians going the same direction, but when Karen slowed her pace, so did they, and when she sped up, so did they.

She tensed, then reminded herself that she was on a busy street in the heart of downtown; it wasn’t as if she were alone in some back alley. Feeling emboldened, she turned to the woman and, trying to keep her voice light said, “So are we Siamese triplets or what?”

The young woman glanced at her. There was a heaviness in her stare that was unnerving. “Hello, Karen.”

Karen stopped suddenly, causing a group of skater boys behind her to curse and veer around her. “How do you know my name?”

The man answered. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. We just need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere for a drink maybe?”

“I’ve already got a drink,” Karen said, holding up her paper cup. “Besides, I don’t talk to strangers...even if they do know my name.”

She started to walk off, but the man took her elbow. He didn’t grab her and his grip was not tight, but it still alarmed her enough to consider throwing her tea in his face. Of course, the tea was iced so she wasn’t sure how effective that would be.

“I’m Night Eagle, and my friend here is Crashing Waves,” the man said.

Karen jerked her arm out of his grip. “That so? Those the names on your birth certificate?”

“Those are our chosen Wiccan names,” Crashing Waves said.

Karen was getting ready to bolt, but this stopped her. “What exactly is this about?”

Night Eagle said, “We need to discuss your association with Morgane Aster.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking....” Then Karen realized that she did know who they were talking about.
Morgane Aster
, Penelope’s “witch name.”

Karen walked to the edge of the sidewalk, next to a bike rack. Eagle and Waves joined her. “I’m not going anywhere with you guys, but I’ll give you five minutes to tell me what you want from me.”

“We mean you no harm,” Waves said. “We just need to warn you about Morgane.”

“Look, we’re not part of some World of Warcraft guild, so let’s stop with the aliases. I’m Karen, we’re talking about Penelope...and you are?”

Eagle visibly stiffened and his mouth tightened. Karen suspected he might be a World of Warcrafter. “Fine, my name is Boden.”

“And I’m Avandale,” the young woman said.

“I said we were going to use real names.”

“That is my real name.”

“Oh...my condolences.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. What is it you want to tell me about Penelope?”

“You can’t trust her,” Boden said. “She isn’t your friend.”

“Is that so?”

Avandale placed a hand on Karen’s shoulder and leaned nearer. “It is. She just wants to use you, your power.”

“And what makes you think you know anything about my friendship with Penelope? You don’t even know me.”

“But we know Morgane,” Boden said. “Or Penelope, if you prefer. We know how her mind works.”

Brushing Avandale’s hand from her shoulder as if it were a mosquito, Karen said, “So I’m guessing you guys are a part of her ex-coven.”

Avandale glanced at Boden then back at Karen. “She told you about us?”

“She told me she didn’t see eye to eye with your little group so you went your separate ways.”

“Is that what she told you?” Boden said with a smirk. “That’s a nice, sanitized, Disney version of what happened.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We banished her,” Avandale said.

“Banished? What, did you also brand her with a scarlet letter? You’re sounding a little medieval here.”

Boden took a step toward her but stopped when she stepped back. “I know you think Penelope is your friend, but you don’t know her. Not the way we know her. She’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous…how?”

Avandale answered: “True Wiccans respect the natural world. We understand that our powers come from the Earth. We do not use our gifts to pervert natural laws, and we have a strict code of ethics to which we adhere. First and foremost is to do nothing that would harm others.”

“And you’re saying Penelope uses her powers to harm others?”

“She is tampering with dark, destructive rituals and entities,” Boden said. “The forces she seeks to harness are abominations, powers no mortal should possess.”

Karen laughed, which seemed to disconcert the two witches. “So you kicked her out of your little club because you thought she was getting too powerful? Sounds like just some kind of Wiccan pissing contest to me.”