Sleight (18 page)

“He does. Guaranteed.” He looked across the field. Yes, there were people watching us. It made him smile. He kissed me again, a real one this time, not just a smack on the lips.

“You’re naughty,” I said, my eyes slow to reopen.

“Am not.”

I tossed a fluff of bread at him. “Fine. Reality check. Lay it on me: what else is there to know about this book? Why can’t Lucian just go on Amazon or something and get a copy of it?” Henry started laughing. “Wow. Dear ol’ Uncle Ted didn’t tel you very much at al, did he?” He wadded up the wrapper from his sandwich and dusted the crumbs off his pant legs. Puling his sleeve back, he checked his watch. “You have cooking class fifth period, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Feel like skipping it?”

“Uh, I guess…?” I didn’t want to talk about this garbage. I wanted to get lost in his eyes, climb onto his lap again and pul his hands around my waist.

“This is an involved story, and you realy need to hear it,” he said, growing serious.

“Why the urgency? I get that Lucian wants his precious book back, but it sounds to me like an impasse. I have no idea what my uncle is going to do.”

Henry took a deep breath and stared out across the field. The crowd of students had sweled as indoor lunches were finished and classes were abandoned, kids intoxicated by that big yelow shiny thing in the sky that had been hibernating for an eternity in a den of thick, grey clouds.

“Yesterday, when I saw the Italian shade in the mess tent, Irina said I had to be ready. But I don’t understand what that means.”

“My mother…she’s told me…things are in motion. Dangerous things. Stuff that is way bigger than you and me, and somehow, we’re both involved.”

“You’ve said that before, but I stil don’t get how I’m involved.” His eyes looked sad, but also hesitant, like there was something he wanted to share with me but couldn’t.

“Let’s get out of here. Away from school. And I’l tel you everything I can.”

We cleaned up our lunch mess and walked back toward the school. I saw Summer Day and Ivy running from the smokers’

lounge toward the stadium, though if they saw us, they didn’t give us a second glance. But that didn’t mean our hand-in-hand strol away from the stadium and to the parking lot didn’t attract its own share of attention. Normaly I didn’t want people to notice me or what I was doing, but it felt good to be walking across campus with the one guy al the girls slobbered over. Yeah, ladies, it’s my hand he’s holding. Sucks to be you.

“I don’t want to sound lame, but are we going to get in trouble if we leave?”

“Nah. It’s an open campus. And I’m an adult,” he said.

“Yeah, but I’m not, at least not until May 30.”

“Wel, then you’d better stop trying to seduce me or else I’l go to jail.” He winked and opened the door for me. It was unnerving to be back in his car. I held my breath, expecting Alicia’s voice to power through the speaker system. To be on the safe side, I avoided the mirrors.

Henry puled out of the lot and down the main drag, heading for the town’s only Starbucks, Eaglefern’s one other redeeming quality, besides Henry. We went through the drive-through and parked in the lot, away from other cars and curious onlookers. Unfortunately for Henry, his face was a familiar one. Everyone in Eaglefern seemed to know the Dmitris.

Once the car was off, he turned in his seat to face me.

“Okay, Miss Gemma, you ready for this?”

I sipped my latte and licked foam off my upper lip. “Ready as I’l ever be.” In truth, I was unsure, skipping school and al, especialy in the spooky ghost mobile. But I was with Henry, and that, hands down, was loads better than getting screamed at by Ms. Garces.

Henry took a long blink and inhaled deeply. “Here goes. The book: there are only seven copies of the AVRA-K. They are written in Aramaic, each one an exact copy of the original, each one given to its intended owner at the time it was made. The book is a covenant of sorts, not unlike the Bible, but instead of the word of God, the AVRA-K pertains to the magical realm. It holds rules that govern the art of magic, healing, and mysticism and the people within that domain.”

“It’s a magic book? Like, something David Blaine or that Mindfreak dude would use?” I said.

“No, those guys are magicians in the modern sense of the word.

They perform ilusions and card tricks, but that’s not at al what this is. The AVRA-K—the word itself, ‘avrakedavra,’ comes from either Hebrew or Aramaic, and it was once used in incantations meant to heal and protect.”

“Avrakedavra, abracadabra…so, the same thing basicaly.”

“Just different interpretations,” he said.

“It sounds sily. Like, if I say it and wave my magic wand, I can turn an ant into an elephant? Hey, Conductor, can you direct me to Platform 9¾?” I said, affecting a bad English accent. Henry’s face looked serious.

“This isn’t magic-wand-Harry-Potter magic, Gemma.” I cleared my throat and dropped my smartass tone. “Sorry. I’l behave.” Wiping the smile off my face wasn’t as easy. I thought I was being pretty funny. “So, what does this book do?”

“Think of the book like a mini encyclopedia. In its pages are the secrets of the mystical life—spels, incantations, remedies. Those who believed in this life were around long before Christ. They migrated from areas of Mesopotamia, like Babylon, into Egypt and north into Europe. My mother’s family eventualy settled in what is now France, and Lucian’s in Romania and Turkey, even though those countries were caled by other names back then. You have to remember, too, that there were a bunch of gods and goddesses and people worshipped idols big time. Beliefs were different depending on where you were in the world.

“These mystics, before Christianity, were very respected for their powers and wisdom. When people got sick, they would actualy go to magicians instead of doctors. And people were crazy superstitious, so curses and vexations were common. If someone felt they had been cursed, they’d seek the advice of a magician.”

“People cursed each other, for real?” Junie and I had messed around with voodoo dols and sily love spels, but, man, if we’d known about a book ful of magical secrets, we could’ve done some serious damage. That would’ve actualy been sorta cool…

“Yeah, but there were laws that ruled against evil spels.

Folowers of the AVRA-K were not into black magic. Only magic for the greater good. The book is an extremely precious resource to the people in the realm of healing magic, and the secrecy that surrounds it is intense,” Henry said.

“So these books are like heirlooms that have been handed down through thousands of years of your family?” I said.

“Not handed down. Gemma. Owned, by the Original Seven, the mystics responsible for its creation.”

“The Original Seven? Were they the men who wrote it?”

“Yes,” said Henry.

“And there are only seven books?”

“Yes.”

“Wait a sec…if the AVRA-K predates the Old Testament, that would mean it’s at least two thousand years old. No one can own a book—or anything—for that long, Henry.” My mouth was parched.

“That’s impossible. Two thousand years?”

“Actualy, closer to three,” he said. Something’s not adding up here… I narrowed my eyes at him and set my coffee in the cup holder. The car’s interior grew claustrophobic, the air tight. Alarm bels clamored through my brain.

“Where are al seven copies right now?”

“Lucian has six of them. The seventh is with the Delacroixs in Rouen, France. But Lucian wants it, very, very much.” I shook my head.

“Please. I know this sounds totaly out there, but I swear on my life that I’m teling you the truth.” Henry gave me a pleading look.

“Could you please turn the key so I can rol my window down?” I said. “Fresh air would be great.” I so wanted to believe him. I had to believe him. Things were getting too unreal too quickly for me to doubt.

I stared at the dash clock. We should’ve been halfway through fifth period.

Henry continued. “Like I said, the secrecy around it is crazy, and there’s a reason for it. The AVRA-K provides its owner an amazing gift, but it comes with a price,” he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The bearers are given the gift of long life, as long as the ages of man, in exchange for protecting the AVRA-K. But if the owner loses his copy, the punishment is swift and severe.”

“As long as the ages of man? What does that even mean?” Henry laughed under his breath. “It means a long-ass time.”

“Like, forever? Are the owners immortal?”

“No, not immortal. Not exactly. They are protected from disease and aging, so they live for thousands of years, in some cases. That’s where that ‘impossible’ part you mentioned comes in.”

Henry reached for my hand, but I stuffed both of them into the pockets of my sweatshirt. I needed to hear him unencumbered by the influence of his touch.

He instead fumbled with the green anti-splash stopper stick from his coffee before dropping it on the console. “If an Original Seven loses his book, the curse kicks in and the owner wil age just like a normal person. His family won’t be able to create future generations. New babies born after the loss won’t live. Eventualy, unless the book is recovered, the owner wil die, as wil his remaining family through natural progression. And if the AVRA-K

fals into the hands of someone who has not been initiated into its use, the book becomes inactive. If left for too long, it wil lose its potency and fade. The AVRA-K, as I understand it, is a use-it-or-lose-it scenario.”

“As long as the books are in the possession of the right people, the magic is stil good?”

“Something like that,” Henry said.

“What if a bad guy got it?”

“Wel, they’d have to know how to use it, and they would’ve had to been inducted into that select group of people who are alowed to access its magic. Otherwise, it’s just an old book. Not very many people left in the world have even heard of the AVRA-K, so the potential for corruption comes from that tiny group of what they cal ‘initiates.’ Like Marku Dmitri, Lucian’s father, and Thibeault Delacroix, my mother’s father. And Lucian, of course.”

“You said there were seven books. Weren’t there seven families, then? Where are the other five?”

Henry paused. “They’re…dead.”

“Al of them? How?” As soon as the word crossed my lips, I realized I knew how. “Lucian…?” Henry nodded and looked away.

“Holy…”

“Lucian is a very powerful magician, and he knows the book inside and out. And his intentions are, let’s say, less than honorable.

Where Marku and Thibeault and the others have used it for good, to help people, Lucian is different,” Henry said. “He wants all of the books, and if he succeeds, he wil become very powerful. Like, scary powerful. He wil use it to promote his own agenda.”

“Which is?”

“Nothing good.”

“Henry, back up—you said that your grandfathers, Marku and Thibeault, are initiates. Are they members of the Original Seven?”

“Yes.”

“So…you’re teling me that they’re as old as the books.” Henry’s head was down, his eyes on his hands as he brushed one thumb over the nail of the opposite thumb. A few seconds passed, and I realized I was holding my breath. He looked up at me, eyes wide, honest.

“A little older, actualy. They were grown men when they wrote it.”

“Right…so that makes them, what, three thousand years old?” I was smiling, soaked in disbelief. Amusement may not have been the appropriate emotion given the circumstances, but this story he was teling was nothing short of ridiculous.

“Marku was born in 832 BC, Thibeault in 829 BC. Just under three thousand.”

The smile dissolved from my face. I stared at him, scanning for evidence that he was going to start cracking up, howling because he was puling my leg. But there was no sign of funny, no curl of his lip.

He didn’t blink, his eyes fixed, face tight and concerned, brow creased. It was the silence in his stare, the set of his jaw and shoulders that confirmed it for me.

“Henry, how old does that make Lucian?”

“Old. He and Jesus Christ would’ve been schoolmates,” Henry said. My breath caught in my throat. I suddenly felt like I was choking.

“Unlock the doors.”

“Please, Gemma, don’t run again.”

“I won’t. I just need some air.” I opened the car door and stepped into the lot. There were other kids skipping class parked nearby. A couple I’d seen groping one another at their lockers just before lunch watched me pace next to Henry’s car and for a moment, I froze, worried they’d narc to Mrs. Thyme when the unexcused absences roled into the office. But that was a dumb thing to worry about. They were skipping, too. Besides, none of that crap mattered in the face of what Henry had just told me.

“Gemma…” Henry walked around to my side of the car and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

“I’m going inside, to use the bathroom. I’l be right back.” He looked worried, probably scared I’d bolt once I was out of sight.

“I’l come back, I promise.”

Inside the café, Becca Bristol and her clique of makeup mavens were busy primping and gossiping around a table. She cast a dirty look my way as I waited at the counter for the bathroom key, but it hardly fazed me. Three thousand years old? No one can live that long. They just cannot.

In the bathroom, I locked the main deadbolt and propped myself against the door for a few seconds, studying the incredulous expression staring back at me from the dimly lit mirror. Turning on the cold water ful blast, I splashed my face and replayed Henry’s story in my head. The motion-sensor paper towel dispenser activated on its own; I hadn’t swiped my hand near its red eye. I spun around as strip after strip of towel unspooled, and came face to face with a shade. The beautiful woman who trailed Henry around the school. The face from the mirror in his car.

His mother, Alicia Delacroix.

I backed into the metal garbage can, toppling it with a loud crash onto the tile floor.

“Gemma, I’m not going to hurt you.”

I flattened myself against the steel wal of the toilet enclosure.

“What do you want?” My chest tightened with fear, breaths short and shalow. Did you know that you can talk to them? The lining of my nose stung and I smeled blood.