Текст книги " From Bad to Cursed"

Автор книги: Katie Alender

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I PULLED A CARVING KNIFE out of the block and grabbed the hand towel from the refrigerator door. I thought with regret that the bloodstains would probably ruin the little white towel.

I’ll buy a new one, I thought. With my own money.

Aralt’s approval coursed through me like a cool breeze.

Parents first. My dizziness intensified as I made my way down the hall. I knocked into the wall on one side, then wobbled too far in the other direction and hit the other side, too.

But I made it. I put my hand on my parents’ doorknob and turned it so slowly, so quietly.

Kasey had tried to kill our mother this way last year, but only got as far as the hallway.

Amateur.

My parents were snuggled together in the center of the bed. The light from the window fell across them in a triangle of blue. They looked so peaceful, so content. It was nice that they’d been able to pull together when the family needed it most. Some couples would fall apart, but they just got stronger. It had really made things easier for me and Kasey.

Dad slept closer to the door. Better to start with him. Then Mom would be trapped.

Kasey I’d save for last, because let’s face it—she wasn’t going to be a problem.

As I looked for an angle that would let me make a quick, deadly impact into my father’s throat, I thought, I hope Kasey appreciates everything they’ve done for us.

I lifted the knife in the air and hesitated.

Where was the towel? I must have dropped it in the hallway.

Without it, I wouldn’t be able to wipe the knife clean when I was through. I would have to carry a bloody, dripping knife to Kasey’s room and then all the way back to the kitchen, ruining the carpet in the bedrooms and maybe even the grout between the tiles in the hall.

I found the towel on the ground just under the family portrait.

As I went to stand up, I felt a tiny point of pressure on my back.

“Don’t move,” Kasey whispered.

I stayed bent over.

“Drop the knife,” she said.

“Excuse me, I’m using it,” I said.

She swallowed hard. “For what?”

“Mom and Dad. You.”

The pressure on my back increased. “Drop it, Alexis.”

Drop it? Like I was a bad dog running around with a sock in my mouth.

“How long will this take?” I asked, setting the knife on the floor. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Get in the bathroom,” she said.

The faster I indulged her, the faster it would be over with. So I walked into the bathroom. She followed, kicking the knife toward the end of the hallway and flipping on the bathroom light.

“What’s this all about, Kasey?” I asked, turning around. At the sight of my face, she gasped, and the point of the fireplace poker she was holding wavered in her hands. I realized a second too late that I’d missed a chance to grab it and smash it into the side of her head.

“What’s happening to you?” she whispered.

I glanced in the mirror. The darkness had begun to spread from my mouth and eyes. It leached out inky puddles with thin tendrils of black snaking out in delicate feathery patterns.

What’s happening to me? What was she talking about?

“So you have a pointy stick,” I said. “Big deal. Get out of my way.”

She shook her head.

The poker had a sharp point at the very tip and another piece of hooked metal that curled out to the side and ended in another point.

“What are you going to do?” I sneered. When I spoke, I could taste the sourness of the black coating in my mouth. “Poke me?”

“I’ll hit you, Lexi.” Her face was stony. “As hard I have to.”

Whatever. I was really not in the mood.

“Can’t we talk about this in the morning?” I asked. After I kill you?

“No.” Her eyes hardened. “Get your toothbrush.”

“What?”

“Pick up your toothbrush,” she said, careful not to let the poker dip a second time, “and stick it down your throat.”

“Kasey—” I said, and suddenly the sharp tip of the poker was touching the soft part of my stomach.

“Do it,” she said.

“Ugh, fine,” I said, picking up the toothbrush. “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Get in the tub,” she said.

Cocking one eyebrow, I lifted one foot and then the other and stood in the tub. “Happy?”

She waited.

I stuck the toothbrush into my throat. Instantly, I gagged and doubled over.

“Do it again,” she said.

“God, Kasey,” I cried. What was the point of this? Stabbing people was one thing. But making them barf—that was just disturbing.

But I did it again, and suddenly I was overcome by a tsunami of nausea, dropping to my knees in the bathtub, vomiting up mouthful after mouthful of bitter black liquid.

It got in my nose and stuck in my throat and made me feel like I was choking.

But the less of it that was inside me, the more I wanted to keep throwing up—forever, if necessary. I was crying and gasping and retching, my arms covered in the remnants of the black goo, and then it hit me—how close I’d come to killing my family.

That and the memory of being trapped inside the black cocoon crashed through my body and left me a shaking, sobbing wreck.

After watching me for a minute, Kasey set her poker on the counter and came to the edge of the tub.

“Lexi?” she whispered.

I retched again, overcome by another wave of nausea, and rested my head on the filthy surface of the bathtub.

I couldn’t speak. I could hardly breathe. My nose stung, and my throat felt like it was wallpapered in fire.

“Shh,” she said, gently rubbing my back. “It’s okay.”

“Did I…” I paused to gag and spit out another mouthful of black fluid. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” she said. “We’re fine.”

When the nausea subsided, I started shaking.

“Come on, Lexi,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I couldn’t believe how calm she was. She raised me to my feet and helped me undress. She ran a hot shower and sat on the lid of the toilet seat while I rinsed off. When I got out, she was waiting with a towel and a fresh pair of pajamas.

I brushed my teeth for what felt like ten minutes. When I was done, the toothbrush was black. Kasey dropped it in the trash can.

Then we stood looking at each other.

“I guess we’re even,” I said.

She frowned. “I haven’t been keeping score.”

So this was it. This was the train off the rails. I shuddered to think of what might be happening in the houses of Sunshine Club girls across Surrey. I consoled myself with the idea that the goo and I went way back; that our relationship was somehow a step ahead of everyone else’s.

But Farrin was right. We had no choice. This had to end.

I reached a shaky hand down and opened the drawer, pulling out a tinted lip gloss and rolling it over my raisin-dry lips.

Kasey passed a comb through my hair, dabbing the ends with a towel to keep the water from soaking through my pajama top.

“You need some rest,” she said, separating my hair into three sections and weaving them into a simple braid.

“You have to lock me up,” I said. “In a closet or something. Someplace I can’t get to anyone. Someplace safe.”

“You’ll be safe,” she said, but in the mirror I saw her chest shudder with an intake of breath.

“Where?” I whispered. The world was huge and dangerous, full of people I could hurt without a second thought.

She wiped the wet comb on a towel and stuck it back in the drawer, then put her hands on my shoulders and met my eyes in the mirror. “With me.”

I looked at the dimples in her cheeks from the determined clench of her jaw.

If I could get the fireplace poker, I thought, I could make those dimples a lot deeper.

Oh, God. I ran past her to my bedroom, where I pulled on a pair of jeans and zipped my jacket over my pajama top.

Kasey knocked lightly and pushed the door open a few inches. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have to go.”

Her mournful eyes looked up at me, and she hugged herself tightly. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll try to send you a message.”

“What do I tell Mom and Dad?”

“Make something up,” I said. I was afraid to stay an instant longer than I had to.

Kasey followed me to the foyer and locked the dead-bolt behind me, as I’d told her to.

I crossed the street and climbed to the top of the jungle gym, where I took out my phone and called Megan.

Her tires crunched on the cheap asphalt as she parked. This road would be dust in five years. She pushed open the passenger door for me and watched me fasten my seat belt.

“So what happened?” she asked.

I didn’t want to say it out loud.

“That bad, huh?” She headed back to the main road.

“Please help me,” I said. “I need to go somewhere safe.”

Suddenly everything caught up with me and I started to cry. It was a full-on ugly cry—dark, stinging tears pouring down my cheeks, my mouth open in a wide, hiccupping wail, snot welling up in my nose.

Megan dug through her purse, pulled out a packet of tissues, and drove.

Through all of it—all of the meetings, the glamour, the stuff with Carter, Tashi’s death—what I’d really needed was someone to talk to. A best friend. My best friend.

“Megan,” I said, “everything is falling apart.”

“Shh,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand,” I said. And then I told her everything—thinking I’d had Aralt fooled, finding myself caught anyway. Tashi’s weird disappearance. Farrin’s threats. Tugann Sibh. Winning the contest, even though I didn’t deserve it.

Everything but Kasey.

I was so busy talking that she pulled into Lydia’s driveway before I noticed which direction we were headed.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“You’ll be safe here,” Megan said. “Lydia’s parents aren’t home.”

She saw me looking warily up at the foil-covered window, with light leaking around its edges.

“It’s not like I could take you to my house, Lex,” she said. “Grandma would have us both committed.”

True.

Lydia let us in, speaking in soft, soothing tones, and even brought me a cup of tea. We sat on the couch for a minute until my nerves got the better of me and I had to stand up and walk around. I could feel their eyes on me like I was a loaded gun. And, after all, wasn’t I?

The walls of the living room were hung with random family photos. It looked like they’d just put whatever picture was handy on whatever nail happened to be in the wall. The scale was off, the frames didn’t match.

I leaned in closer to see a picture of eighth-grade Lydia—pre-goth—grinning and leaning against an older woman. It was some kind of church social or some-thing—they both wore goofy straw hats and name tags.

HI, MY NAME IS: LYDIA!

HI, MY NAME IS: ELSPETH!

I stared at the photo for what felt like a very, very long time, until my vision seemed to swim.

“Lex?” Megan asked. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Why don’t you come sit down?” Lydia asked, gliding to my side. She took my teacup and led me back to the couch.

Don’t trust me, Elspeth had said.

“Who is that?” I asked, and my tongue was fuzzy. My words came out dull.

Lydia glanced up at the picture. In my head, the image echoed:

HEAD TURN/GLANCE, HEAD TURN/GLANCE, HEAD TURN/GLANCE

“That’s my grandmother,” she said, her voice vibrating in my head like she was talking into a fan. “She died in May.”

GRANDMOTHER/DIED IN MAY, GRAND MOTHER/DIED IN MAY

Megan appeared above me, her hand under my chin. “Hello in there?” she asked. Then she turned away. “Yeah, she’s gone. How long will it last?”

DON’T TRUST ME/DON’T TRUST ME/DON’T TRUST ME

No.

The world went dark like the curtain being lowered on a stage.

DON’T TRUST MEGAN.

DRIPPING WATER, INSULTED; a pipe leaking inside a wall somewhere.

The distant, dim orange glow of a night-light.

A headache like a pod of dolphins slamming up against the inside of my skull.

And I was tied to a chair.

Nope, wasn’t shaping up to be a great day.

I let my chin drop and noticed that I was wearing an unfamiliar dress. Then my thoughts came into focus and I realized that I did recognize it. It was one of Megan’s. And on my feet were a pair of Mrs. Wiley’s best shoes—not hand-me-downs, but a pair plucked fresh from her closet. I couldn’t see my fingernails, but I had a feeling they were immaculately painted. I could smell powder and lipstick—presumably on my face—and determined that part of the facial tightness I was attributing to my headache was due to the pull of one of Megan’s hairstyles.

I was dressed for a party. A really important party. But I was still woozy enough to take it in stride. I guess we found lucky number twenty-two, I thought.

That sobered me up.

Because if we were having a party, that meant someone was going to die.

And what about Kasey? Would she come looking for me? What would they do to her?

I was in a small, windowless room. I didn’t bother screaming for help—I didn’t want to attract Megan and Lydia’s attention any sooner than I needed to. Anyway, I figured, they would never have risked putting me in a room within shouting distance of the neighbors.

Behind me, a door creaked open. I tried to let my head fall limply against my chest, but whoever it was had seen the movement.

“Well, good afternoon, Miss Sunshine!” It was Megan.

I didn’t answer.

“Are you ready to celebrate?” she asked. “It’s going to be so much fun.”

I flexed my wrists and felt the pull of tape against my skin.

“How can we graduate if we don’t have enough people?” I asked.

“Who says we don’t?” Megan said, her voice frosting over. “Cheer up, Lex. I brought you a friend.”

I heard the sound of someone being shoved. The door slammed shut, and there was a faint, offended “Ow.”

I knew that Ow.

“Kasey?” I cried, straining to look over my shoulder.

“Lexi?!?” She came barreling across the room and hugged me from behind, chair and all. “Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m all right,” I said. “Can you undo my hands?”

“Yes,” she said, going to work. “But tell me what happened! Is Megan…?”

“Evil? Yeah, basically.” I craned my neck to watch her fingers fumble with the tape. “Why are you here, Kase? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, eyes wide. “I called Megan to see if she knew where you were, and she said to come to Lydia’s. So I came, and then they told me you were in the basement, and I was like, why, and Megan was like, see for yourself, and then she pushed me in here and told me to talk some sense into you.”

I closed my eyes. At least they hadn’t hurt her.

“Lexi, what’s happening? Megan said there’s a Sunshine Club meeting. The last one. What’s going on?”

“It’s graduation day,” I said. “Listen to me, Kasey. You have to play along, do whatever it takes to get away from here before the meeting. It’s not safe for you here.”

“No way. I’m not leaving you,” she said. “Every time you do something alone, disaster. So no. Forget it.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “If they learn the truth, they’ll kill you.”

“But they don’t know, do they?” she asked. “And how would they find out?”

She had a point. They would never have let her in to see me if they suspected she was less than perfectly devoted to Aralt.

I shifted my focus to my hands. “Are you done yet?” I asked. “Maybe there’s something lying around that you could use to cut the tape.”

“Lexi, please. I know there’s something you don’t want me to know about. But whatever they want you to do, just do it. It’s not a big deal. If you got hurt, what would I tell Mom?”

“It is a big deal, though,” I said. “Someone’s going to get killed, Kasey.”

“Well…so what?” she said. “It’s not you or me.”

So what? “What do you mean, it’s not me or you? How would you know?”

“I mean—it doesn’t have to be you or me. It could be anybody.”

I gave my hands a tug.

They were no closer to being free than when she’d come in.

“Kasey,” I said, “come here.”

A pause, and a rustling behind me. “We don’t have time for all this, Lexi.”

“Just come around,” I said. “I want to look at you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just want to see something.”

Her voice turned petulant. “There’s nothing to see—”

“Kasey!”

She snapped like a rubber band. “Stop bossing me around, Lexi! I’m trying to save you! Save all of us!”

“Come here.”

She came around and knelt in front of me. “Why won’t you let me help you?” she asked. “I’ve been through this once, remember? This is different. You can’t just smash up a doll and be a hero this time.”

“We can’t let a person die, Kase,” I said. And even if we could—it wouldn’t set us free from Aralt. We’d still be his—his to control, his to feed from, for the rest of our lives.

Kasey’s face fell. “I can’t lose you,” she said, lowering her face and crying softly. “You’re the best big sister in the world. Please just do what they say.”

For a moment, I was touched. Beyond touched. I looked at the shining hair on top of my sister’s head and watched her raise her eyes to me.

Her blackened eyes. Her gray-streaked face.

“You took the oath,” I said.

“So what if I did?” she exploded, springing to her feet.

The room fell silent.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out evenly. “It’s not my fault,” she said. “They figured it out.”

“How?” I asked. “Without you coming out and telling them, how would they figure it out?”

Slowly, she turned around and lifted her hair, revealing her neck. Drawn across it was a long, dark slash, like a sinister smile.

She turned back, her eyes crinkled with something like an apology. “I panicked,” she said. “I knew I wouldn’t heal, so I confessed before they did anything…serious.”

I closed my eyes.

A dark ball of anger was born inside me. Megan and Lydia had invited my baby sister over and ambushed her, held her down and tortured her. And then bullied her into swearing allegiance to Aralt.

I’ll kill them. I let the thought fill my head for a dark, satisfying moment, and then I pulled myself back.

“But it’s okay! It’s fine. I’m so much happier now. Look, Lexi,” she said. “I’m all for taking a stand—in general—but what choice do you have?”

My chest felt heavy. In the stuffiness of the closed-off room, it hurt to breathe.

No choice.

I had no choice.

“And when you think about it…” she said, “isn’t it almost a little exciting?”

In the dim light, her expectant smile was as sweet as antifreeze.

She reached her hands out, rested them on my knees. I gazed down at the ring on her finger, expecting another one of our shiny gold bands. But what I saw instead was something older—much older.

Around the circle of it snaked a carved gold braid, and its surface was a haze of soft scratches.

A hundred and sixty-seven years’ worth of scratches.

“Where did you get that?” I asked.

Kasey glanced at it. “Lydia had it lying around. She said it belonged to a friend of the family who died.”

I closed my eyes tightly.

“For God’s sake, don’t cry,” Kasey said. “You’ll wreck your makeup.”

“Get out,” I whispered.

She drew back. “What?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Rude, Lexi!” She sniffed. “Do you know how much easier this is going to make our lives? Do you think it would have been easy for me to get into college with attempted murder on my record?”

“Go,” I said.

“Fine. But if you think I’m untying you now, you’re crazy!” she said, storming out and slamming the door behind her. From the other room, I heard her voice rise. “She’s being totally unreasonable!”

A second later, the door opened and Megan stuck her head in.

“I just want you to know,” she said, “that the meeting’s going to start in a half hour.”

“So?” I asked.

“Come on, Lex,” she said, coming inside. To my surprise, she came up behind me and began cutting the tape from my hands. “Think about it. You should be thanking Lydia and me. We took care of the Kasey problem for you. Now you can go through with it and ensure this unbelievable life for you and your sister.”

I flexed my hands in front of me, trying to get the feeling back in my fingers.

“I know how much you care about her,” she said quietly. “If you want to know the truth, Lex, I’ve been kind of jealous. I’ll never have that bond.”

I focused on rubbing my wrists.

“Maybe that’s why you weren’t as devoted to Aralt as I was,” she said.

My head jerked up. “I was plenty devoted to Aralt,” I said. “I just decided that free will is more important to me than getting everything I want.”

Hostility didn’t faze Megan. She just gave me a puzzled smile. “Aralt is all about free will,” she said. “You make your own choices. That thing with Carter was all you. You wanted the perfect boyfriend. So Aralt delivered him to you.”

My definition of the perfect boyfriend didn’t include stalking, but I didn’t say so. There was too much truth in what she’d said. Carter had been fine until I started manipulating him.

“One way or another, you’re going to read the spell,” Megan said. “One way or another, you’ll realize how important Aralt is. The mature thing would be to stop whining and start being thankful for all of the things he’s doing for you, even if you don’t deserve it.”

“I’m not doing it,” I said.

She sighed. “So ungrateful.”

“Tashi’s dead,” I said. “And Lydia killed her. I can’t let anyone else die.”

Megan shook her head. “Well, then, the solution should be perfectly clear to you.”

I looked up at her.

“You read the spell twice,” she said. “Sacrifice yourself.”

“That’s suicide.”

“Suicide, murder,” she said, shrugging. “Until you learn to look at this from a more enlightened point of view, nothing’s going to sound good. I can’t help you there.”

She walked to the door, and I leaned down and began untying the ropes from my ankles.

“Besides,” she said over her shoulder, “we have a volunteer. Good news, Lex—it’s just Zoe.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

I tried not to think of what she’d said, but the thing is, she and Kasey were right. We had to resolve this, one way or another, and as far as I knew, obeying Farrin—reading Tugann Sibh and letting one girl die, letting Zoe die—was the only way to do it that didn’t involve all of us going insane and dying in a mental ward.

But it could be me. It was such a simple solution. It would save Zoe, my sister, my friends…and I wouldn’t have to live with someone else’s death on my conscience.

The only thing was…

I was scared.

I could no more imagine volunteering to take Zoe’s place as the sacrifice than I could imagine climbing to the edge of a smoking volcano and jumping in.

Coward, I scolded myself. Selfish coward.

Did I really care if someone else died? Or did I just care about making sure it wasn’t my fault? I wanted it all: I wanted the easy way out, and I wanted to be guilt-free. At least my sister and Megan were willing to acknowledge that someone would be dying for them.

Selfish, scared, useless coward.

My breath turned shaky and I felt my shoulders quiver. I held my hands over my eyes, expecting tears, welcoming them, not caring about my dress or my face.

But they didn’t come. I couldn’t cry.

Because you’re afraid to ruin your makeup, snapped the angry voice inside me.

And I was. I was so afraid.

And so exhausted from the effort of holding Aralt at arm’s length, being an outsider, feeling like I’d failed everyone.

It will feel so good, said the voice in my head. It will make you so much stronger.

Just for a second, and then I can keep fighting, I told myself, and then, like a trickle of water under a door at the start of a flood, I let go of just a tiny bit of control.

Immediately, my pounding headache was smoothed into the soft, golden feeling that you get when pain ends suddenly. A sudden shock of well-being.

Tentatively, I let go of one more thread—the guilt I felt over Kasey taking the oath.

She’s so happy, I thought. She finally gets to know Aralt. To feel his presence.

Then, like the thin fibers of a rope snapping one at a time, my resistance began to fall away.

Nothing seemed as bad as it had just a few seconds earlier.

Of course you’re afraid, the voice purred. Of course you don’t want to die. Who could blame you?

A bright future began to take shape in my mind. I would get Carter back, but things would be different. This time I wouldn’t manipulate him. I would go to work at the internship and do important things. I’d get a car of my own. My parents would be so proud.

It was like falling backward onto a feather bed after spending a day doing hard labor.

And like some vile parasite, the traitorous thought writhed in my head: It’s just Zoe.

By the time I got my feet untied and stood up, I was like a new girl.

I was Aralt’s girl.