T*Witches: Double Jeopardy (8 page)

“Their brother —”

“Dylan?”

“Yes,” Miranda said. “He’s disappeared, and they fear the worst.”

“Has Karsh gone to them?”

Miranda looked surprised. “No. I didn’t get the impression he was overly concerned. Anyway, I didn’t contact him. This is a chance for their uncle to prove his goodness. My girls needed help. I sent Thantos to them.”

Furious, frightened, Ileana turned so abruptly, she felt light-headed. “We’ve got to go.”

Miranda was puzzled. “Now? Why?”

Ileana grasped her arm. “I have an appointment and I’m not leaving you here. End of story.” With that, she rushed her aunt out of the herb garden and hurried her down the steep path.

Perhaps if Miranda had not been so surprised and Ileana not so panicked, one of them might have heard the commotion they’d left behind. Two creatures, struggling to break free of the clinging brambles and sticky vines encasing them, tumbled out of the bushes, with thorns poking out of their flesh and clothing at every angle.

“Tsuris, you let her escape!” the short, fat cactus whined.

“Me? I told you it was bad luck to hide in a cemetery!” the taller, spiny critter shrieked.

“At least we found her!”

“Past tense, Vey, you slacker! Let’s go. Sooner or later, she’s bound to go back to the old man’s shack.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SALEM WOODS

“I don’t get it,” Jason said again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you all the way into town?”

“No,” Cam answered, staring out the window, searching the roadside. “I’m trying to toughen Alex up for soccer this year.”

“And you’re going to start her off with a fifteen-mile hike? Condolences,” the tall, dark, and studly boy called back to Alex, who was scanning the other side of the highway. “You have my sympathy. Personally, I think your sister’s crazy.”

“Runs in the family,” Alex answered.

“Alex!” Cam snapped. “That is so unfunny!”

Alex shrugged, a little startled herself at what she’d
blurted — even if it was true. A sudden chill drove Miranda from her mind. “I think we’re there.”

“Me, too,” Cam said, twisting the patchwork quilt in her lap and sounding a lot less superior than she had a second before.

“This is it?” Jason slowed reluctantly and pulled over to the side of the road. “It’s going to be dark out soon. Why would you want to do this now?”

They’d run into the concerned hottie about a minute after their psycho uncle split — saying he’d done for them what he could and had to get back to their mother now. Miranda needed him, Thantos had suddenly decided. She shouldn’t be left alone.

“I mean, come on —” Jason surveyed the thickly forested area around them and shook his head. “With Dylan missing and all …”

“That’s just why we’re doing this,” Alex announced. Cam spun around to glare at her. “You know,” she said pointedly to her distrustful twin, “to work off some nervous energy.”

Nervous energy became icy trembling as they trudged through the swampy woods. Cam wrapped Miranda’s shawl around her neck like a scarf. Alex hiked up the collar of her camouflage jacket. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Eyes wide, senses honed, they moved slowly in
what they hoped was the direction of the bay, looking for the sandy landscape Cam had described — and that they’d both seen through Thantos’s crystal.

Alex’s nostrils were filling with the scent of salt and brine. And something else, too. A jumble of odors that had nothing to do with this time and place. A fragrance at once stale and seductive that reminded her of the spirit she and Cam had once conjured, the awesome specter of Leila DuBaer, their grandmother.

“Leila plus,” Cam whispered, grabbing Alex’s hand. “Don’t you get the feeling we’re not alone here? And I don’t mean just rabbits, squirrel, deer, and Dylan, either.”

“Although he’s in the mix,” Alex confirmed. “I smell him, but faintly.”

“Faintly is so not Dyl’s odor.” Cam laughed tensely. “Not in that laundry hamper he calls home.”

“Uh, did you hear that?” Alex squeezed her sister’s fingers.

“Nuh — no,” Cam stammered. “But something … icky … just brushed against my shoulder, Als.”

“Like a cobweb?” Alex breathed in again. “Or a musty old robe or something?”

“Old? How ’bout Jurassic? Talk about cold feet,” Cam said, feeling brackish water squishing in her shoes.

“What’s that poem? ‘The woods are lovely, dark, and
deep, but I have promises to keep —’ You know, by Robert Frost.”

“This can’t have been the woods he was talking about,” Cam ventured. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he were here.”

“Who, Robert Frost? He’s dead.”

“Duh,” Cam said.

They slogged along, staring, sniffing, holding hands. “Bad thought,” Cam broke the silence. “What if this is a setup? What if Thantos led us here —”

“For what?”

Cam shrugged, then shrieked. “Something just … REACHED OUT AND TOUCHED ME!”

“Ah, the woods are full of telephone commercials,” Alex tried to joke, then said seriously, “I smelled it, Cam. It’s … a person. People. You know, like Leila. Old … people.”

“You mean dead people.” Cam cut to the chase.

“Well … yeah. Spirits, ghosts, whatever. I think we’re … like, someplace we’re not supposed to be.”

“Understatement alert,” Cam said. “But we can’t just evacuate the premises. Dylan’s here, too, right? You smelled him. I feel his presence.”

An unexpected gust of warm air ruffled Alex’s hair and wafted against Cam’s cheek.
Go back, I pray you
, a deep, wounded voice urged.

Alex ran her fingers over her head. The breeze had left her scalp tingling. “Did you hear that?” she whispered to Cam. “A woman’s voice. Young, sad …”

“No.” Cam was stroking her cheek, where a feeling of comforting warmth still lingered.

“Saddest voice I ever heard,” Alex murmured. “What is this place?”

“A graveyard,” Cam answered, certain, but mystified about how she knew.

Alex nodded. “It’s a witches’ graveyard. A … some kind of burial ground.”

They were almost at the water’s edge. The sounds of the bay came to them, waves lapping against a shore, seabirds cawing. “Look! There’s the tree,” Cam said excitedly. “The one Dylan was leaning against —”

If you love him, go back
, the voice warned again.

Alex spun around. “Where are you? Who are you?” she asked, peering into the graying light.

There was no one there, no answer.

And then they saw Dylan! He was collapsed on the ground at the foot of the big tree. His eyes were closed. In his hands he clutched the predator’s cap.

For the sake of him who loves you, go now
, the heartbroken voice whispered.
Do not lead him this way
.

“Alex!” Cam’s shout brought her back to reality. Her
sister was kneeling in the gritty mud beside Dylan, hugging him. “Hurry. He’s breathing! He’s okay, I think.”

“Dylan!” Alex shouted, elated, rushing to them. Up close she could see that mixed in the dirt and mud smeared across Dyl’s face was a dried reddish-brown crust of blood. “He’s cut. That creep must have hit him —”

Cam found a plastic container half buried in the sand. She rinsed and filled it with fresh seawater and hurried back to Dylan. As they washed his face, he stirred, came back to consciousness.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing he said when he recognized them. “It was whack. I shouldn’t have gone alone —”

“Hey, no probs,” Alex assured him. “We found you. You’re okay. Or you will be as soon as we —”

“I’ll be okay, but his next victim won’t.” Dylan tried to get up but couldn’t manage it. “He’s going after someone else. I heard him when I was in the back of his van. I heard him setting up another ‘date.’ Same lies. Telling her he’s sixteen and into parasailing and white-water rafting and hot-dog skiing. For all I know, he’s got her already.”

The outburst exhausted him. He slumped back heavily against the tree.

“Is that his hat?” Alex asked as Dylan’s eyes drifted
shut. “Kenya described it,” she explained. Glancing at Cam, she added silently,
We can track the bozo through his cap
—
thanks to Uncle T
.

Yeah, if we had quartz crystal and mandrake and chickenbrain
—

Henbane
, Alex corrected her.
Voilà!
She tossed something to Camryn.

Unc the skunk’s herb pouch!
Cam was impressed.
How did you — ?

I’m getting soooo good
, her sister crowed.
I did the beg-and-boost thing; you know, stared at it, wanted it, wished for it — and boom!

Gently, Alex took RideBoy’s knit cap from Dylan.

“He shoved me out of the van,” the boy murmured. “I snagged his hat when he pushed me. And I’ve got his license plate number. How’s Kenya doing?”

“Better than Mom and Dad,” Cam said.

“Oh, man.” Dylan held his head in his hands. “I really messed up this time.”

“Well, yeah.”

“But you also caught a creep,” Alex pointed out, brushing mud and leaves from Dylan’s hair. “I mean, with his license plate number and your description of him and Kenya’s story of what went down — and don’t forget his hat. That may turn out to be really valuable,” she said, glancing significantly at Cam.
If we can grab a couple of
minutes’ worth of privacy to play Unc’s tracker trick with it
. “I mean, a really valuable … you know, piece of evidence.”

Cam nodded. “Know what, Dyl? My cellular won’t work down here. Why don’t Alex and I try to find better reception, while you just hang here for a few minutes more, okay?”

“Sure,” Dylan said groggily.

“Okay. Be back in a minute,” she assured him as they started away.

“How come both of you have to go?” Dyl called after them.

They stopped, looked searchingly at each other, and turned back to Dylan. His eyes were shut; his breathing was heavy but rhythmic. “He’s out,” Alex whispered. “Come on. We’ll do the Situater, find out where the sicko’s skulking, and be right back.”

They went toward the choppy bay, then followed the uneven shoreline to an unexpected opening in the sea grass. Walking inland, between the rustling reeds, they came to an alley of overhanging branches. At the end of it, several yards of brush and trees had been cleared. The tamped-down area formed a nearly perfect circle surrounded by stones and strangely imposing evergreens, majestic and menacing.

An icy wind rattled through the trees, raising goose
bumps on Cam’s neck and arms. Alex felt it, too, as she stared up at the towering firs and spruces. “Maybe this isn’t the right spot,” she ventured. “There’s something … I don’t know … ugly about it, don’t you think?”

“It’s majorly spooky,” Cam concurred. “There’s something here that … I can’t explain it, Als, but it reminds me of or makes me think of Karsh. Not
our
Karsh, not our funny, scary-looking, nubby-headed, sweet grand-guardian, but a cold, gray, lost Karsh —”

Alex shuddered and, in a gesture of defiance, pulled open Thantos’s leather pouch. “Let’s do this thing,” she said. “Now. Situate RideBoy, 911 the cops, and get out of here. Fast.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHOICES

Ileana was angry. She was an equal-opportunity blamer.

Enraged at Thantos, she stomped around her cottage, ticking off the reasons. She blamed him for tricking Miranda. The greedy, power-hungry warlock had pretended to be taking care of her, when he was really taking advantage of her mental state. Miranda had blocked out her own memories. Thantos came sweeping in with his version of what had happened that November morning fifteen years ago — fiction to further his self-centered agenda.

Ileana blamed him for trying to lure Camryn and Alexandra away from their duty to serve humanity to his
desire to have them serve him. With the power of Aron’s family on his side, he’d truly be omnipotent. Woe to those who would cross him. Should the twins prove too smart to fall under his spell? He’d kill them.

Mostly, she blamed Thantos for what happened the day of her own birth. He’d rejected her and, from that day forward, treated her as nothing more than an ordinary, irritating stranger. That she could occasionally be irritating, Ileana would be the first to admit, but never was she or would she be ordinary!

Ileana blamed Miranda, too. How could such a once insightful and powerful witch be so easily ensnared? This was not the Miranda of her memory, far from the kind-hearted, brilliant shining star Ileana had worshiped — and wanted to be.

How could this once exquisite and powerful woman have deteriorated so much? What kind of mentor was she now? What kind of parent could she be — sending a dangerous, deranged tracker to “protect” her children?

A parent with neither experience nor good instincts to guide her, Ileana concluded, a role model for dismal failure.

Ileana’s harshest fury was reserved for herself. How could her powers fail her now? How could she have
fallen so far into the pity pot that she couldn’t climb out to help the twins, her charges. Her cousins!

She threw off her heavy cape and smoothed the seams of the gauzy midnight-blue gown she wore beneath it. The choice to run off to Marble Bay in her current condition was not wise. What help could she be in this strange, weakened state?

Yet what choice did she have? Miranda had sent Thantos to them — Lord Bad Dad himself, everybody’s favorite in the I’d Rather Be Cloned Than Have Him for a Father Sweepstakes. That kind of help was a disaster waiting to happen.

Ileana shuddered suddenly. What if she ended up like Miranda; what would it be like to spend more than a decade powerless? No! She stomped her stiletto-heeled foot. That would never happen to her. She would not allow it. She would regain her gifts by sheer willpower. If anyone could will her magick back, she could!

Briefly, Ileana considered asking Karsh to come with her, but thought better of it.

He would try to prevent her from going, perform a spell to keep her grounded, and try even harder to talk her into letting him go in her stead. Which would make her, for all Coventry to see, the pitiable weakling she had become.

No way! She might have lost her powers, but not her pride.

Problem — immediate rather than long range — she had no way to quickly get to Marble Bay. She was already the flightless bird Karsh might have tried to turn her into. She could not rely on glorious wings to carry her soaring to the coastal Massachusetts town. Any other means of transportation would take too long.

So Ileana did something she had sneered at others for doing. She admitted she needed help — and, swallowing that cherished pride, she summoned Brice Stanley.

The handsome warlock she had almost given her heart to had betrayed her. Since the trial, where he’d testified on behalf of Thantos, she had cast him out of her life. But the willful witch was desperate. And the warlock movie star owned a private jet.

Brice was the fastest route to the twins. And, as she knew he would be,
People
’s pick for Hollywood hottie of the year was eager to send his plane. No doubt believing, Ileana supposed, that the gesture was the fastest route back into her good graces.

He’d be wrong about that.

Ileana did not forgive easily. But the heinous loss of her powers had an upside. It had made her desperately
practical. And at the moment, there was no faster, easier way to get to Cam and Alex.

Karsh was alarmed.

He was anxious about the twins. He was needed in a place he could not be. He had tried to help them telepathically. He’d “forwarded” his vision of Dylan’s whereabouts to Camryn. He’d telegraphed the longitude and latitude to Alexandra. He believed absolutely in the daughters of Aron and Miranda. They would save the boy’s life. He would not have to go there.

And yet. He was nervous. What if something went wrong, something the not-yet-initiated pair could not handle?

Karsh stared out the window of his cottage. Ileana’s cat, Boris, was wandering alone in the woods. Suddenly, he knew: His impetuous, willful charge had gone to the twins, was already on her way.

His anxiety quotient was upped to all-out alarm. What made her think she was a match for Thantos? Her hatred would blind her; her diminished state would impair her; her pride would be her downfall. Here was a tragedy in the making. Unless he was there to prevent it.

But he could not be. His every rational thought, every cell in his body warned against it. Besides, he was needed
here, to relay the truth, to open the door to the twins’ future. He could not risk leaving Coventry Island right now — especially not to venture into the woods of Salem.

Yet how could he not? If the twins were Ileana’s responsibility, the powerless but still impetuous witch was his. What choice did that leave him? If he didn’t intervene and the worst happened …

He could not even think about that now. He needed every ounce of intellect and positive energy to forge his decision.

Seconds passed that felt like hours. With a heavy heart, Karsh knew what had to be done. In the basement of his cottage was a very old wooden trunk. He’d never opened it before but he knew its contents. Most would be sorted through later, by others. What he needed right now lay on the very bottom. Gold-threaded, beaded with sparkling gems, it was a handsome cloak.

He’d never worn it before, of course, never believed he would put it on by himself, alive and willingly. Nevertheless, after dusting off his best waistcoat and vest, Karsh donned the awesome cape.

One other thing the aged warlock had to do before he left. The notebook in which he’d painstakingly recorded all that Ileana and the twins needed to know had been hastily stuffed into a random book the day Miranda surprised him by showing up at his door.

Just before he left to follow the irrepressible child he’d raised as his own, Karsh retrieved it and inserted it instead into the most appropriate tome he could find:
Forgiveness or Vengeance: Righting Ancient Wrongs
. He pressed the worn book to his lips before returning it to the shelf.

Their father was ruthless, faithless, and violent — a warlock from the wealthiest clan on Coventry Island. Their mother was simpler — ambitious, greedy, treacherous, she was a descendent of notorious crooks and con men. But because she was not a witch, Tsuris and Vey were only half warlock. They possessed a bit of the wit of each of their parents. Hence, they were also half-wits.

Because they’d grown up with their mother on the mainland — in a little beach cottage in the gated community of Malibu — and not on the island where they might have been trained, they were ignorant of the craft. Ignoramuses, some said, which sounded to them very classically Greek.

What Tsuris and Vey had learned, however, was this: A huge inheritance had once awaited them. But now, with their father incarcerated, their share of the money, their mother had told them, was threatened.

It was all the fault of that vile, vain creature who had been chasing after Brice Stanley, the movie star their
mama most adored. If that weren’t enough, Ms. Ileana DuBaer was their uncle Thantos’s child. She therefore stood to snag the loot she’d so cleverly denied them by putting their daddy in jail.

They must make her pay for it, their mother had decreed.

They had missed their chance at Rock Mount Cemetery. They believed she would next show at Karsh’s cottage. So there they went, hid, and waited.

Because they had not even the basic warlock skills, let alone the more advanced like mind reading, they had no idea what Karsh was up to or where the old man was going as he put on his very gaudy traveling cloak.

They decided to follow him anyway.