Witch Eyes (10 page)

I couldn’t quite pull off an illusion as complicated as the one Jason had performed, but I could improvise. Between the chalk and the desktop, I had enough to bind the magic I was planning to call forth. The chalk to turn thought into vision, and the wood of the desk to make it solid, to bring it into focus.

“Forces of the earth,” I whispered, “awaken and come forth.” I used the words to draw the magic to me, shaping it through the elements I planned to use. The most common place to draw power for the stronger spells was from the earth. There was a wellspring there that any witch could tap into. If they just asked nicely.

I
channeled the magic into the pieces of chalk, which began to dissolve in front of me. From
there, I pushed it upward, weaving it through the wood desk. As the chalk swirled through the flows of the spell, th
ey began to spar
kle, turning to tiny shards of color that began to coalesce. Light grew until my memory of the elevator in Lucien’s office was right there on display in front of me, an illusion drawn straight from my mind.

Using my hands, I manipulated the memory brought to life. I pushed to the left, and the image shifted further that way. Pulled my hands closer, and it focused on a smaller section of the shadow.

The image was roughly the quality of a projected screen, though it hung in midair. A dark spot, more defined than I’d realized before. It was roughly oval shaped, turned on its side. Almost like an ey
e.

Sixteen

“All this melodrama, and me without my camera,” Lucien said.

I’d waited until the school day was over, hesitant to skip and cause any more waves. None of my teachers even seemed impressed that I turned in the homework along with everyone else.

Candy wasn’t at her desk when I walked off the elevator. I hadn’t known where else to go—it wasn’t like Jason had given me a Bat-signal to get in touch with him or anything.

Lucien gestured to one of the chairs across from him. “Have a seat. And give me a little more context on what you’re talking about.”

“I think Catherine’s spying on me,” I said, repeating the same thing I’d said the moment I walked through his door.

My father’s lawyer sat on the corner of his desk and feigned interest. “And why come to me with this fascinatin
g little tidbit? I can’t exactly file a cease and desist on the megalomaniacal super-witch based on a hunch, now can I?”

I ignored his sarcasm. “I’ve been seeing this … thing. This shadow.”

“Now you’re seeing things,” he sighed. “How fortuitous.”

“Mind if you hold the sarcasm until I’m done?” I wasn’t ex
actly snapping at him, but I tried to be a little more forceful. “I’ve seen it at least twice now. Once, the first time I was here, in the elevator on my way up. And then again in school t
oday.”

Lucien went still. “Fascinating,” he said under his breath. “Simply fascinating.”

“So I need to know anything else you know about Grace Lansing. About the witch eyes.”

It had made perfect sense to me a couple of hours ago. If Catherine
was
spying on me, then the only way I’d be able to really see where and when was if I could find a way to control my powers. And since Lucien was the one who’d told me about Grace, he was the only source I knew.

“‘Witch eyes’?” Lucien pulled himself up off the desk and sauntered back around his desk. “I love the name. It has a bit of poetry, don’t you think?”

“Then what would you call them?”

He looked surprised, and I watched him choose his words carefully. “The stories never said Grace had a name for them. She called it her Sight. But if I had to make a guess it would be that history is filled with all sorts of ‘special’ eyes. The Eye of Horus. The Eye of Providence. Maybe all those stories share a com
mon origin.”

“So you think it’s happened before?”

“I’ve seen your father do any number of impossible things,” he said. “And didn’t you recently survive contact with a speeding vehicle?” He shook his head, making a cluck-cluck sound with his tongue. “Who knows the breadth of powers and abilities born into this ignorant world?”

If there have been others, someone had to figure out a way to control them.
“There has to be a record somewhere about her, doesn’t there? I couldn’t find anything in the library.”

“I doubt you would.” The lawyer’s lips twisted. “I’m afraid that woman took her secrets to the grave. Which, unless you have some skill in raising the dead, makes her a little difficult to contact.”

Summoning the dead. Uncle John had always said the dead shouldn’t be disturbed, but he slipped up once and mentioned a time when he’d tried—and failed—to summon a spirit. It required an incredible talent.

I could do it, I bet.
I could ask Grace how to control the visions. “How’d she die? I’m surprised there’s not some big story about that, too. Belle Dam’s got stories for everything else, right?” I laughed it off, but my mind was already whirling—figuring out just how I’d manage to cut a h
ole into the world of the dead.

“No one knows for certain,” Lucien murmured. “But they built her a quaint little monument down at Angel’s Respite Cemetery. It can’t be missed.” If he knew wha
t I was planning, he didn’t let it show. Then again, there wasn’t much that Lucien did show. The man had a poker face like none other.

I wasn’t sure what I should do next. But maybe Grace could give me some ideas.

“Mr. Fallon,” Candy simpered as she strode into the office, stopping abruptly when she saw me. “What are
you
doing here?” she asked, in this perfectly bitchy, contemptuous tone. “What is
he
doing here? He doesn’t have an appointment.” This was some sort of violation in her strange little world.

“Are we done, Braden?” Lucien glanced down at his watch. “I believe I’ve told you all about how important my schedule is.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my bag and throwing it over my shoulder. “Just be sure to water your skank,” I said as I passed him. “She’s looking a little shallow.” It was a completely inappropriate thing to say, but I walked out of his office with a smile.

¤ ¤ ¤

I forced myself to finish my homework before considering plans to raise the dead.

It’s not like I’m nervous
, I thought a few hours later, staring up at the ceiling. Just that this was a few steps beyond the normal kinds of spells I knew. It required a proper amount of thought and deliberation.

Which was how I found myself wandering the streets of Belle Dam in search of distractions when Trey called. It shouldn’t have surprised me the way he invited himself along, and then decided we were going to a pizza parlor for dinner. Mostly because the minute I got on the phone with him, I forgot I had a brain of my own.

Half an hour later we were a few blocks from downtown, in a tiny little Mom and Pop store that was sparsely lit and uncomfortably warm when we walked in.

“It’s good stuff, I promise,” Trey said. “Not quite the best in town, but it’s definitely a close second.”

The waiter led us to one of the tables against the window, giving us a view of the street. “So where’s the best?” I asked a few minutes later. When the waiter came back we ordered, compromising on half pepperoni and half extra cheese.

“Closed down a few months ago,” Trey said as he turned to focus his attention out the window. I watched a muscle in his jaw start to flex. “The owners had to leave town.”

I didn’t press the issue. I may have been dying to know more, but two things were clear. The topic was upsetting Trey, and it definitely had something to do with the feud.

Small talk was attempted, but Trey’s head had gone somewhere else. I tried to apologize for whatever it was that I’d said, but it didn’t register. After that, the conversation grew more and more stilted.

Our food arrived ridiculously fast. It was like some sort of angel glanced down and realized that our table had been overinflated with Awkward Conversation. Pizza proved to be the perfect remedy.

“Quit hogging the pepperoni,” Trey chided, reaching over to snag the pizza slice I’d just grabbed and pulling it back to his side of the table. He replaced it a minute later with a piece from the other half of the pizza, only cheese. Extra cheese.

“Hey, I was the one who wanted it,” I protested, debating whether or not to fight him for the slice. I decided not to. “You’re the weirdo who wanted only cheese.”

“Yeah, well I figured you wouldn’t have gone for the jalapenos or black olives.”

I shrugged. “Maybe those are my favorites,” I said lightly.

“Yeah, right,” he smirked, letting the cheese from one slice dangle between his lips. Like he was taunting me. “So tell me about school.”

Did I get signed up for the Big Brother program the minute I walked into town or something? Besides, I definitely didn’t want Trey to be my big brother. “It’s okay. Harder than I thought it’d be. The work’s not so bad, but there’s a lot.”

“Any friends yet?” What was with the sudden interrogation?

“A … a few.” I needed to stop focusing on the way cheese slid around the curve of his lips, or the way his eyes twinkled when he thought he was being cute. Not to mention the way veins sprang to life in his hands when he moved too suddenly, straining against the skin. Strong hands.

“Braden?”

“Huh? What? Sorry?” I could have smacked myself in the face. My brain had reacted all at once, throwing anything out there that might be an acceptable answer.

It was wickedly hot in the pizza place, but Trey’s all-too-aware expression didn’t show an ounce of it. Did they not believe in air conditioning or something? I put my pizza back down, grabbing one of the napkins and scrubbing furiously at all the grease staining my fingertips.

“I said it must be pretty hard. New school, and trying to make friends.” Trey’s face went puzzled for a second before he pulled his cell phone out of a pocket, and I heard it buzzing. “Sorry, thought it was off.”

He flipped the phone open, after giving the screen a glance. “Hey. Yeah, no I can talk. I’m not doing anything.” I sat back, feeling the words like a slap. I watched as his eyes narrowed and he pushed his plate away. “How long ago,” he demanded suddenly.

I thought he was talking to me for a second, and I froze. Did he know something? “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just try to keep an eye out, okay?”

He snapped the phone shut and started to scoot out of the booth. “Sorry, something came up. You’ll be all right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, just pulled out his wallet and threw bills down onto the table. I don’t think he even looked at them when he did it.

“Uhm, what?”

“Just … something I have to take care of. You’re going to be alright, right?” Trey paused all of a sudden. “You
remember that guy Drew, right? You haven’t seen him lurking around town or anything, have you?”

“I thought you two were friends,” I said automatically, although I knew there was more to the story than that.

“We went to school together,” Trey said, as if that was the same thing.

“So, you’re
not
friends,” I pushed.

“Look, I don’t have time for all this,” Trey said, getting sharp. “Have you seen him or not?”

I crossed my arms, and for the thousandth time tried to figure out who Trey was. “Not,” I said coolly.

He winced. Maybe he realized he was being a dick. “Look, I’ll talk to you later, Braden. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

Watching him rush out of the restaurant, and sitting there with half a pizza left in front of me, I realized something else about Belle Dam. Boys suck no matter where you live.

¤ ¤ ¤

It was a half hour before midnight, and I’d packed my school bag with supplies, read my journal a few dozen times, and changed outfits at least twice. I’d finally settled on a thick sweater and a pair of jeans.

There was no one in the hotel lobby when I snuck out of the building. The lights had all been dimmed, leaving it looking somber and nearly asleep. It was almost as though everyone in the world was gone. I was the only one.

Something howled in the distance. It sounded like a wolf, but that was impossible. There weren’t wolves for hundreds of miles.
Just some dog with delusions of grandeur.

It wasn’t hard to break into the cemetery. A small stone wall set it apart from the street, but it barely reached my waist. It probably did a fantastic job keeping the kindergarteners out, though. I hopped over and slid between the folds of old stone and grave moss.

Lucien had said the monument couldn’t be missed. But if anyone could miss it, it would probably be me. I avoided the paths winding through the graveyard, preferring to stick more in the hidden shadows between old crypts and giant statues.

It took nearly ten minutes before I saw the Lansing name gleaming under the passing glow of nearby streetlights. Where two paths met and divided, creating a three-way intersection, there was a large stone pillar. It reminded me of the Washington Monument, and the Lansing name was etched across the front. And below that, something like a rolled piece of parchment was carved into the rock.

“
Know that not every door will open to the proper key.”

“The hell does that mean?” Another link to keys. Grace’s fascination with them transcended death, too, apparently.

I closed my eyes and sank to my knees. It had been a long time since I’d tried anything so severe.

I pulled out the supplies I’d brought, unrolled the corded tassel into a circular shape, poured out a bottle of water over it, and sprinkled some salt over both. Using tools might help me keep control if the spell went haywire. If I’d learned anything in my seventeen years, it was the little things. Don’t go ripping holes in the spirit world without some restraints.

I held my hands apart, drawing the magic forth. Quicker than expected, pressure rose from beneath me. Almost like it had been waiting for this. Below my glasses, energy spi
lled forth in dark greens and ambers, spectral lights that spun.

The power was rising fast. Almost too fast. I hesitated, wondering whether or not to lose the glasses. Without them, it felt like there were no limitations. I could do whatever I wanted with the magic, but everything came out too strong.

The circle I’d crafted in the ground pulsed with the energies—colors that merged and crashed apart as careless tides. It began to spill outward, spinning faster and growing larger each second.

I felt something I couldn’t see, some sort of timbre in the earth. Rumbling. Approaching. I hesitated only a moment, long enough to wonder what else I’d drawn from within the ground. And then I remembered my vision, and the monsters I’d seen clawing their way out of the dirt.

The circle grew warm and there was a sound like a coyote’s howl heard through a cascade of water. “Bring her forth!” I called. “Come forth, Grace Lansing!”

T
he lights grew faster, blending together until I couldn’t see anything but light. The wind picked up, circling around me like a tornado. Any stronger and it would pluck
me from the ground and hurl me into the sky. I pressed my hands against the dirt as though that would hold me here.
Just a few more minutes, just until the spell is done.

But the energy kept pouring forth. More and more, it kept growing. The spell I was weaving bulged and strained against the edges of my circle. Underneath the tide of magic, something else was unraveling.