Fatal Charm (9 page)

At least we had a starting place—Nevada.

Dominic and I sat without speaking, the swing creaking rhythmically back and forth. Lilybelle stopped purring, as if she picked up on our disappointment, and jumped out of my lap and scampered off the porch into the darkness.

What should have been a celebratory moment had deteriorated to frustrating. We needed to connect the charms—uncover the key to their secret. Even if we did achieve this, we still might not find the remedy that may have been lost decades ago.

“Now what?” I finally asked.

“We keep trying,” he answered.

I gave a solemn nod. Nona hadn’t given up on me when I was a young girl afraid of visitors in the night and voices in my head. She’d explained how ghosts were lost souls who were afraid and she showed me how to guide them to the light. She helped me see spirits clearer and hear the garbled messages they brought. Nona had always been there for me. I would do the same for her.

If Dominic and I couldn’t solve this by ourselves, we’d ask for help. We’d do whatever it took to stop the shadowy enemy who was stealing Nona’s memories.

Time.

Our worst enemy.

And we didn’t have much left.

Manny had an internal gravitational pull to computers. If it was too early for the computer lab to be open, there was a good chance he’d be in the library—which is where I found him the next morning. I’d come to school early specifically to talk to him, as he was the closest to an expert I knew when it came to digging up information. Besides, he owed me for all my help with his “Mystic Manny” column.

I found him at a rear table in the school library, cozying between two dark-haired girls while he sorted through a pile of thick books.

“Since when are threesomes allowed in the library?” I teased.

“Everything’s allowed for me. I got an in with the assistant librarian, which is like a license for rule-breaking.” He winked at his bookend friends. “Besides, I’m doing research.”

“Research?” I arched my brows, amused. “On twins?”

“Oh, we aren’t twins or even sisters,” one of the girls said, blushing. “Just best friends, and everyone says we look alike. Some people even think we sound alike, which is just so cool. Maybe it’s because we do everything together.”

“I’m all for that,” Manny said wickedly.

I just rolled my eyes, refusing to rise to his bait.

Then I asked Manny if I could talk with him alone, resulting in nasty looks from his friends. I almost laughed at their identical pouts and would have gladly assured them I had no romantic interest in Manny—but it was more fun to watch them act jealous. If they had the poor taste to lust after Manny, then they had better get used to disappointment.

Manny was full of swaggering confidence and a self-acclaimed expert on everything. “Finding answers is as easy as falling in love … which I do at least once a week.” He glanced slyly at his girlfriends. “Sometimes twice.”

“Love?” I said. “Sure you don’t mean lust?”

“Same thing.”

“Only if you’re a chauvinistic ass.”

“Or irresistible to the ladies.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are, ready to ask for my help. I’m right, aren’t I? Isn’t that why you came to school early? Does this involve the missing charm?”

“Not missing anymore.” I quickly explained as I showed him the tiny horseshoe. “Any idea how this fits in with the others?”

He squinted down at the new charm.

“Intriguing,” he murmured. “It’s like holding a piece of history. After one hundred and fifty years, all four charms are back together.”

“But what does it mean?” I asked, frustrated.

“My theory is that at least one of them represents the town where Agnes hid her possessions. Last time I ran a search for you, I checked Nevada town names for any connection to the other charms. But nothing close to cat, house, or fish. The closest I came was Duckwater.”

“Duckwater? I don’t see a connection.”

“You know … ducks eat fish. And one of the charms is a fish—but I guess that’s stretching things.”

“Could there be a town called Horseshoe?”

“I can check.” He sidled up to the library desk and grinned at the student library assistant, who blushed and twirled an end of her streaked red-black hair. A minute later he led me to a computer and powered up.

“No Horseshoe,” he announced a few moments later. “But there are town names with Silver: Silver Park, Silver City, and Silver Springs. Hey—what about this? There’s a city named Smith.”

“So?” I asked skeptically.

“Smith could be a reference to “blacksmith” —the dude that makes horseshoes.”

“Smith.” I repeated the word, hope stirring. “That could be the one—if the town is over 150 years old. Can you find out?”

“Have I ever let you down?” I started to answer, but Manny wisely held up his hand and stopped me from replying. Then, with a grin, he shooed me away and promised to let me know what he found out later.

I put all this out of my mind while I slipped back into the grooves of familiar school routines. But I couldn’t pay attention in my classes. Not because I disliked my teachers or learning. But because during those weeks I’d lived with my family in San Jose, I’d done independent study—which jumped me ahead in all my assignments. In English Lit I’d already read the book and written the report. In science, I’d aced the quiz. In history, I knew who won the war and in what year. Only gym wasn’t old news—but then who could study ahead for a volleyball game?

Sitting through boring classes left too much thinking time. I worried about Nona’s illness, wondered if Velvet would get enough insurance money to reopen Trick or Treats, stressed over the whole Josh versus Dominic dilemma, and tried to figure out how and why my weird astral trip had sent me to Jade.

By lunch, I was eager to chill with my friends and catch up on the latest news. But after getting whacked on the head with a volleyball, I detoured to fix my hair in the only non-smoky/mostly clean girls’ bathroom on the other end of campus.

It only took a few minutes to brush and twist my hair into a braid. I was just wrapping it with a hair tie when I heard my name called and the door burst open.

“Manny!” I exclaimed.

“Hey, Sabine.” He leaned one arm against the door, grinning.

“Get out! Girls only, no guys allowed.” I glanced around anxiously to see if the stalls were occupied and saw only one closed stall. White sneakers with pink laces shifted under the door.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I pointed to the occupied stall. “I repeat—you’re not allowed in here.”

“Sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Manny tossed me a challenging look, then swaggered over with cocky confidence to the closed stall. He rapped on the door. “Hey in there, can I ask a question?”

“Sure,” came a muffled reply.

“Are you okay with my being here? I wouldn’t have done it if this weren’t important.”

“Is that you, Manny?” a girlish voice asked.

“The one and only.”

“Cool! I’m a huge fan of your Mystic Manny column. How do you come up with such amazing predictions?”

“It’s a gift,” he bragged, ducking as I reached out to swat him.

“And your editorial really made me think. I never knew my choice of ring tone could influence my entire life.”

“Brilliant, wasn’t it?” He grinned. “Well, go on with your … er … business.”

“No rush,” she called out.

“See. My being here is perfectly okay, Sabine. But we’re leaving anyway.” Manny grabbed my wrist. “Come on. We have to talk.”

“Right now?” I asked as I tucked my brush into my backpack.

“Only if you want to hear what I found out.” His black eyes sparkled. “About Nevada.”

“Are you serious? You found the location?”

“Did you ever doubt me?”

“Always. But I love surprises. How did you do it?”

“Magic keyboard fingers,” he joked, waving his hands. “Turns out there used to be a town called Horseshoe, only its name was changed. Want to hear more?”

I definitely did, but not in a public restroom. So I slipped on my backpack and followed Manny. As we swung the door out, a girl I recognized from my calc class was coming in. She gave Manny such a surprised look, double-checking the “Girls” on the door, then back to Manny with confusion.

Manny and I burst out laughing.

Then I made him tell me everything.

* * *

That evening, Dominic, Nona, and I faced each other across the dining room table. There was hot raspberry sage tea, crackers and cheese, plus some shortbread cookies spread out before us. A fire spread out warmth from the nearby living room, and anyone looking in would have thought we were models for a quaint Norman Rockwell painting.

But there was nothing cozy about our purpose.

“Nona,” I said in a solemn tone. “Dominic and I have something to tell you about the charms.”

A blank look crossed her face, and she reached inside her pocket.

“You don’t need your notes,” I said, stopping her before she could pull out the papers. “I’ll remind you.”

“I don’t need reminding about my own life,” she snapped. “You think I could forget the charms that my great-great-grandmother left as clues to the remedy? There’s nothing wrong with my memory. I’m the one who told you about the charms and showed you the one shaped like a house.”

“A cat,” I corrected. “That was the first charm. The house was the second charm and I found it.”

“I knew that. Don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m not.”

“It’s natural to forget small details. But I haven’t lost all my marbles yet. I still remember the important things.” She smiled at us, sipping her tea and nodding as if everything was fine—but the light in her eyes was dim. She was only partly there.

“You’re doing great, Nona,” I said calmly, although I felt like crying. Someone had to take the adult role, and without volunteering the job had quietly passed to me. I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. Her skin was sun-spotted and leathery from a life spent outdoors. Her fingers seemed smaller than I remembered.

“So what did you want to tell me?” she asked.

“Dominic found the last charm.”

“That’s wonderful!”

Dominic showed her the tiny silver horseshoe.

“Manny just told me today he found out there used to be a town called Horseshoe in Nevada, only now it’s called Shrub Flats. The remedy has to be there.”

“We’ll find it,” Dominic added with a protective glance at Nona. I knew he couldn’t love her more if she’d been his own grandmother.

“We’re leaving in the morning, so I’ll miss school,” I told my grandmother. “I’ll need you to write an excuse.”

Nona pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. That’s not acceptable.”

“Why not? Your health is more important than school. Besides, I’m ahead in all my assignments—I won’t miss anything.”

“Except our holiday celebration,” Nona sat her cup down so hard it rattled.

“What holiday?” I demanded,

“Sabine, you must be kidding. And they say I have problems with my memory, but you don’t see me forgetting a major holiday.” She chuckled. “With company coming, I’ll need your help getting ready. There are so many preparations: peeling potatoes, baking pies, preparing the turkey—”

“Turkey?” I felt sick and shared an uneasy look with Dominic. “But Nona … Thanksgiving isn’t until next week.”

“Next week? I was sure when I looked at the calendar … ” Her voice faded and she seemed to shrink in her chair as if aging years in a few seconds.

“It’s a mistake anyone could make,” Dominic said with forced cheerfulness. “I’ve never had a real family Thanksgiving. By next week we’ll have found the remedy and we’ll have lots to celebrate.”

Nona managed a faint smile. “I’m counting on it.”

“We won’t let you down.” I clasped her small, withered fingers. “I promise.”

Then Dominic and I made plans to leave in the morning.

On a road trip that meant life or death to Nona.