Soulstice (2 page)

Perhaps they’d decided to leave her alone. Perhaps her fluke power to enter and destroy the hellish fearscape had shown them
something they’d never encountered. Perhaps
she
had scared
them
away.

“Come on, Reg!” Dad rapped on the bathroom door. “Let’s move it. Out the door in ten!”

“Almost done!”

She rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. It hung just below her chin now; she had had to cut much of it off after she’d
singed it away in Macie’s burning basement. But it was growing back, healthy, strong, and curiously, a shade darker.

It wasn’t the only thing that was darker, Reggie mused. A slow dread continued to creep like black moss across the heart of
Cutter’s Wedge, and the town remained on edge.

Quinn Waters was seventeen and Cutter’s Wedge’s favorite son. The dimpled boy next door and the star quarterback since his
sophomore year, he passed and ran a primrose path to Division A ball. His academic record wasn’t stellar, but it would have
been strong enough to earn options and scholarships to top programs around the country. No one suspected what he really was.
How could they? He was perfect. Charismatic, charming, gentlemanly, and seriously cute, Quinn had everyone under his spell.
And then he had disappeared.

Though few spoke it aloud, most of the town believed that their young hero had met with foul play. And no one would rest until
answers—and a body—were unearthed. Reggie, along with her best friend, Aaron Cole, and former mentor, Eben Bloch, knew the
boy’s body was at the bottom of the lake, but this was a dark secret all three planned to take to their graves.

A homicide detective from Wennemack had descended on Cutter’s Wedge in late February, two months after the disappearance,
and had been lurking around ever since. After four months of investigation, which involved dozens of interviews with students
and faculty at Cutter High, the detective and the local police had made little progress, and neither Quinn nor his red Mustang
had been found. In all that time, nobody had ever interviewed Reggie or Aaron.

And why would they? Reggie had often asked herself. She and Aaron hadn’t exactly traveled in Quinn’s circle. Nothing connected
them to Quinn. Nothing except that car…

“Reggie!” Dad’s voice now boomed from the kitchen below. “Let’s go!”

Reggie pulled on her army-green Chucks, already tied, and jogged down the stairs dressed in jeans and a plain white tee. Henry
stood at the front door, a faded red cap pulled down over his ears.

“Might hit ninety-five today.” Reggie gently patted him on the head. “Little hot for that, don’t you think?”

Henry shrugged.

“If anyone says anything, you tell them—”

“I tell them I lost my ear in a tragic circus accident involving a mountain lion and a renegade trapeze artist, I know,” Henry
said. “It doesn’t help, Reggie.”

“Henry, screw Billy Persons and anyone else that stupid. If he teases you again, you tell him his mother is a raging alcoholic.”

“You will say no such thing.” Dad emerged from the kitchen, his tool belt slung over his shoulder. “Henry, do me a favor and
grab the paper from the end of the driveway?”

“Can’t you just get it on your way to work?”

“Henry.”

“Fine.”

The boy stomped out of the front door. Thom Halloway dropped a heavy, calloused palm on his daughter’s shoulder.

“Reggie.”

“What.”

“Don’t be reckless. Not with him. Please.”

Reggie shook off her father’s hand.

“I’m trying to help.”

“By encouraging him to slur another kid’s mother?”

“By helping him fight back, Dad!”

“That’s not your job. Let the doctor do the helping.”

“Yeah.” Reggie walked out toward the street.

“Reggie, I’m not—”

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

Reggie and Henry met up with Aaron two blocks from the unified school campus. At fifteen, Aaron had sprouted up several inches
in the past year, and his gawky stride suggested that his body didn’t quite know how to handle the spurt. His large hands
and feet, coupled with a T-shirt and cords that hung from his thin frame, gave him the look of a puppy still growing into
its skin.

It was already hot and sticky, and the promise of another sweltering day rose from the asphalt. Heavy spring rains had caused
flooding around the county and a lot of standing water remained. Mosquitoes staked an early claim to ponds and puddles all
over town on a relentless search for blood.

“Last week before finals, Reg. You ready?”

“Not even close.”

Henry walked ahead, jumping over sidewalk cracks, the red cap still tugged over his ears. Aaron saw the expression of concern
on Reggie’s face but did not ask.

“So.” Aaron smacked a mosquito on his neck. “Bio.”

“Ugh. Don’t.”

“Let’s hear it. Wasp. Phylum?”

Reggie sighed. “Phylum arthropod. Subphylum myriapod. Class insect.”

“Close. Subphylum
hexapod
.”

“Damn.”

“You’ll do fine.” Aaron slapped another bug off his arm.

“I’ve resigned myself to the sea of mediocrity that is the 3.6 GPA. Enjoy the thin air of your 4.0 peak.”

“4.2, actually. You know, with the weighted classes.” Aaron paused, embarrassed. “I’ll stop now.”

“No, don’t. You should be proud. Besides, plenty of people have lived happy, fruitful lives thinking a hexapod is a curse
on peas, right?”

“This is a fact.”

They reached the corner of the block, and Henry stopped on the edge of the vast elementary school lawn. He gazed out at the
gaggle of small children playing in front of the main entrance to Cutter’s Wedge Elementary. There was yelling and laughter,
but something kept Henry from joining in the fun. Something other than the worries about his ear. Reggie eyed him—it had been
like this since he’d come back from the fearscape.

Reggie knelt down and gave him a little squeeze.

“You have a good day, okay, Hen? Go play.”

Henry’s frame went rigid. Reggie looked up and saw a hefty, carrot-haired boy chasing a couple of smaller boys. He tackled
one of them and pinned him down.

It didn’t look like play to Reggie.

“I want to break his legs so he can’t do that,” Henry said in a low voice.

Reggie pulled away, startled.

“You don’t mean that. Look, Billy Persons is a chubby snot-nosed brat.”

Aaron leaned in. “And he smells like cabbage. Just like his big brother.”

Henry let out a little laugh.

Reggie squeezed harder. “You won’t let him get to you, right?”

“Yeah.” Henry kicked at the ground. “Is Dad picking me up?”

“No, he’s at a Wennemack site on Fridays for a while. That’s why you had your appointment yesterday, remember?” Reggie stroked
her brother’s hand. “But I’ll be right here after school.”

Henry hugged her. “See you.”

“See you.”

Reggie watched him walk into the schoolyard. Then she and Aaron headed across the drive that separated the elementary school
from Cutter High.

“How are his sessions with Dr. Unger going?” Aaron asked.

“Pretty well, I think. I haven’t met him yet, but Henry likes him, anyway.”

So far, Henry hadn’t remembered anything about being taken over by a Vour, or about spending several hellish days in his fearscape.
But he had been having terrible nightmares since March, which Dad and the doctors chalked up to stress from Mom leaving, hence
the weekly therapy sessions.

“Good. Unger is the best child trauma therapist in the state. My mom swears by him. He’ll help Henry get better, Reggie. And
he
will
get better.”

“I know.” Reggie breathed deep and ran her fingers through her hair. “So, just one more week, right?”

“Yep. One more week, and then we can spend our days lying by the pool sipping lemonade. You know, if one of us had a pool.”

“And if I didn’t need a job.”

“There might be work at the bookstore. I can ask Eben—”

“No,” Reggie said flatly. She hadn’t seen Eben Bloch since January when she’d quit her job at his shop and Aaron had taken
over.

“Reg, you know Eben isn’t exactly the Dr. Phil sharing type. But I can tell he misses you. I think he feels like he’s lost
a daughter. You’re his only family.”

“Families don’t lie to each other.”

“Really? You haven’t been straight with your dad about what happened. Not that I blame you. He’d put you away. But Eben has
his reasons why he didn’t tell you he had a history with the Vours. He was trying to protect you.”

Reggie wiped sweat from her brow.

“Remind me again how
not
telling me pertinent information is protecting me.”

They headed across the quad. Normally, students would chat under trees or up against the bike racks until the last possible
moment, but the oppressive humidity had driven even the laziest kids into the building prior to the bell. Reggie noticed a
patrol car and a black sedan with tinted windows in the parking lot.

“Cops again,” she said. “When will they stop?”

“When Quinn’s case goes cold.” Aaron opened the door for Reggie and glanced nervously at the vehicles. “Or when they make
an arrest.”

They both stepped into the school entrance hall as distant thunder rumbled in the darkening sky.

  
2
  

Reggie slid into her English class desk, her back and neck already sweaty and gross. She pulled her damp ponytail up again,
but the rubber band snapped and her hair unraveled in a mess of frizz.

The rest of the students filed into the classroom as the bell sounded. Despite the continued presence of police at the school,
there was an air of excitement. Kids chatted and laughed as if, for at least a little while, they’d moved past the anxiety
and gloom brought on by Quinn’s bizarre and sudden disappearance. Summer vacation was almost here, and everyone felt it.

Nina Snow, perfectly coiffed and confident as usual, took her seat behind Reggie. Her hair was long, dark, and frizz-less,
her skin clear like porcelain. She looked like the only girl in school unaffected by the heat. The one freshman to be recruited
for varsity cheerleading at Cutter, Nina had been Quinn’s girlfriend since Homecoming. She ignored most of her female freshmen
classmates, but Reggie had unwittingly drawn her attention last December when Nina had noticed Quinn flirting with her.

“Bride of Frankenstein,” Nina said. “Not a good look for you. Then, do you
have
a good look?”

Reggie said nothing.

“What, no witty comeback from the literary loser?”

Mercifully, Mr. Machen strolled in.

“Okay, monkeys. Simmer down.”

A few students screeched and scratched their heads and armpits. Machen smirked and shook his head.

“I’m still your zookeeper for another week.”

Machen was Reggie’s favorite teacher—an extended substitute who’d taken over Honors English some months earlier, after Mrs.
Harter had fortuitously been offered a grant to study the works of nineteenth-century playwrights in London. Machen, in his
mid-thirties but with hair so blond it looked almost white, was passionate about literature, and was equally well-versed in
mythology and history. He wore tweed jackets that made him look the standard scattered professor type, but Reggie quickly
learned he was impeccably organized and methodical.