Omens Bite, page 8
She hadn’t lied. She just wasn’t sure of the truth.
A rush of heat swept through Hunter as she picked up the book and moved from the couch to the floor. “We’re making a pentagram out of items.” She paused to listen for the muffled wah wah wah of Kylie’s conversation before she motioned for Jax to join her. “Three of yours and two of hers.”
Jax looked around as he folded his long legs and sat on the floor across from Hunter. “We don’t have anything of Kylie’s or mine in here.”
Hunter puffed out panicked breaths as she scoured the room for something, anything she could use. “Shoes!” She pointed to the front wall and the poster that read LEAVE YOUR WORRIES AND YOUR SHOES AT THE DOOR.
Jax laid back, stretched his arms over his head, grabbed the shoes, and sat back up before Hunter had even gotten to her feet. He dropped the shoes next to the spellbook and grinned. “You want mine, too?”
Hunter grimaced. “Absolutely not.” He still hadn’t showered from practice. Kylie was the only reason Hunter couldn’t smell how sweaty and gross he was. Even though she was outside, her sweet grapefruit scent still coated the air.
Jax shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets as Hunter moved Kylie’s shoes to the points at the arms of the invisible pentagram and placed the book between them.
“Will these work?” Jax held out his phone, school ID, and two protein bar wrappers.
Hunter plucked the phone and ID from his hands. “I’m pretty sure trash doesn’t count, so we’re still one short.”
With a nod, he closed his mouth. His jaw worked like he was chewing gum before he held his hand up to his chin and spit. Clear plastic flew into his palm along with a dollop of saliva. “Number three,” he chimed and placed the Invisalign tray at the head of the pentagram.
Hunter couldn’t help but frown. The pentagram looked like the contents of Goodeville High’s lost-and-found bin. She shook her head, pushed her doubts aside, and surrendered to the magic that increased her heart rate and plucked at her nerves.
She read the spell’s next steps a final time before she sucked in a deep breath and took Jax’s hand in both of hers. “Do you trust me?”
Jax nodded, his gaze never leaving hers.
And so it begins … Amphitrite hummed.
Hunter relaxed into the laughter that snaked between her ears and lifted the hairs on her arms. The goddess had already given her more than Tyr ever had. And now Amphitrite was assisting with a spell that would not only make Jax happy but would also fill in the empty pages of her spellbook. This is what she’d meant by feed it. Hunter was going to grow her power and make everything better. She knew it, just as she knew the moon would once again be full.
Another deep breath and Hunter flipped Jax’s palm toward the ceiling. Blue light coated Hunter’s fingers and salty spray dusted her cheeks. Her eyes flicked up to his. “Do you see that?”
He blinked back at her, his brows pinched. “See what? Is something supposed to happen?”
He is a mortal. There are many things he cannot see, Amphitrite hissed. Hurry, Witch. Complete the spell before the girl returns.
“We have to be quick.” Hunter squeezed Jax’s hand in hers to keep from trembling. “And remember your intention: what does Kylie want?”
His hair flopped against his forehead with another nod.
Hunter dragged her blue-tipped index finger along the end of Jax’s thumb. “Τομή.” Cut. Her voice deepened to a purr that vibrated against the back of her throat as she uttered the Greek spell word without thinking. The line she drew morphed into a thin cut, and Jax flinched as blood welled against his skin.
Hunter guided his hand to the top point of the pentagram and squeezed his thumb. Blood dripped onto the plastic and pooled in the hollows of Jax’s dental imprint before sizzling and disappearing into nothing.
“θέλω.” I want. Another low hum, and Amphitrite’s laughter slithered through Hunter’s veins.
Jax’s breathing quickened as Hunter brought his bloody hand to Kylie’s shoe. “Θέλεις.” You want.
Sweat popped against his forehead as she squeezed his thumb and dripped crimson over his school ID, his phone, and finally Kylie’s other shoe.
Amphitrite’s ghostly laughter tightened Hunter’s chest and squeezed her heart as the young witch cupped her hand under Jax’s thumb and collected his blood. She released him and held the scarlet pool over the white pages of her spellbook.
“Θέλουμε.” We want.
She roared and slammed her bloody palm against the pages. The pentagram ignited with electric red light that illuminated each item and connected them with fiery bolts. She and Jax shielded their eyes as the book slammed shut and the five items lifted from the floor.
It is done! Amphitrite’s laughter screeched through Hunter so loud and sharp that she pressed her hands over her ears.
Power exploded from the pentagram and crashed against Hunter. She flew backward and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. The five items dropped onto the rug as Hunter sat up and blinked the red star from her vision.
Blood dripped from Jax’s thumb as he rubbed his eyes. “What the hell was that?”
The doorknob jiggled and the door let out a breathy whoosh as Kylie ended her call. Hunter’s stomach squeezed and her heart galloped within her chest as she tossed Kylie’s shoes back to the front of the room and snatched her spellbook from the floor.
Jax shoved his braces and ID into his pocket and busied himself with his phone as Kylie stepped inside.
“Sorry about that.” She brushed her hair behind her ears and smiled. “My sister’s birthday is next week and my mom’s trying to plan our trip to Northwestern to surprise her, but she refuses to hear that Reese would rather die than have us pop up at her dorm.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Jax stammered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I mean, surprises … they’re just—”
“The worst.” Hunter supplied, nodding so adamantly her hair flopped in front of her face.
Kylie cocked her head and slipped her phone into her pocket. “You guys okay?”
Hunter leaned against the couch and did her best to feign nonchalance while she hid her bloody palm. “We’re terrific.”
“Super great.” Jax swept his hand through his hair and flashed a cute, crooked-toothed grin. “How about you?”
She shoved the sleeves of her windbreaker up past her elbows and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I’m actually starving. How do you feel about pizza?”
“You had me at starving,” Jax said and leapt to his feet. “Want to come to the house with me to get some pop?” he asked, leaning down to offer Kylie his arm. “With you there, my mom is less likely to yell at me about pizza not being a real meal.”
With a giggle, Kylie stuffed her feet into her shoes and hooked her arm through his. “How can pizza not be a real meal?” she asked as Jax opened the door. “It has all the food groups…” Their conversation faded as the door closed behind them.
It was only a matter of time before they knew for sure whether or not Kylie wanted Jax. Hunter released a pent-up exhale and caught herself before she collapsed onto the floor. The spellbook spilled out of her lap and landed on the rug beside her. Her heart thrummed with another surge of adrenaline as she scooped up the book and brushed her hand along the fleshy cover. A crimson streak ran along the bottom of the book and faded into pink then milky white at the top. She flipped through the spells and stopped when she reached WANT. She gasped and pressed her fingers against her lips. The page was the same deep red as the blood crusted against her palm. Her hand trembled as she turned the page. Another spell. She laughed against her copper-tinged fingers as she turned one page, and then another, and another. Four new spells. She was that much closer to fixing the gates.
Hunter sprawled out on the rug and clutched the book against her bare stomach. “Thank you, Amphitrite.”
Salt coated Hunter’s tongue, sticky and dry, as mist dotted her lashes.
You’re welcome, young witch, Amphitrite purred. But it is far from finished feeding.
Hunter nuzzled the creamy soft cover against her cheek and pressed down the worry that had begun to tug on her stomach. Feeding the spellbook once had been easy. It couldn’t be that hard to do it once more. Plus, additional spells meant additional power. And more power meant Hunter would never again get lost in the shadows.
Eight
It was fully dark when Mercy pulled out of Goode Park. She halted at a stop sign and tried to decide whether she should chance it and cut through the neighborhood that surrounded the park to Main Street, where she’d then turn left and be home super fast—or whether she should go the opposite direction and wind around the country roads that framed the corn and bean fields outside of town to take the long way home—when her phone lit up. The screen said ABIGAIL/MOM with her familiar Aretha Franklin “Respect” ringtone.
For an instant Mercy froze and her heart felt like it was going to fly out of her chest. And then she remembered that Xena had been using Abigail’s phone. With a trembling hand she hit the accept button and the cat person’s voice blared throughout the Camry.
“Kitten! Are you ever coming home?”
“Yes! I just left the last tree—the doum at the park. Sorry it took so long, but Khenti—”
“Yes, yes, you can tell me all about the odd Egyptian reptile boy when you get home and we are eating dinner.” Xena paused. “Which means we need dinner, kitten!” she shouted.
Mercy cringed. “Sheesh, Xena, you don’t need to yell. I can hear you just fine.”
“You know I am not good with electronics!” Xena continued to shout.
“I know.” Mercy hastily turned the volume down on the phone call. “I’ll be home in a few minutes and we’ll decide what to eat.”
“Oh, I already know what we should eat, which is why I called. On your way home please stop by that restaurant where my Abigail used to get my seafood pizza.”
“Foxfire Woodstove Pizzeria?”
“That is exactly it! I would like one small pizza—with extra tuna and no vegetables except broccoli.”
Mercy shuddered in disgust. “Gross, and broccoli?”
“It is the only green I can abide besides the wheatgrass you and Abigail grow for me,” said the cat person.
“It still boggles my mind that they actually make a pizza with shrimp and tuna on it.”
“It is quite delicious. And, of course, get your vile vegetable concoction, too.”
“Um, you do remember that the seafood pizza always makes you sick, don’t you? I mean, seriously, Xena, last time Abigail got it for you I had to clean your litter box. Talk about vile.”
“That was because my cat body has trouble with too much cheese. My human body likes it. Very much. And you needn’t worry; I shall use the human litter box.”
“You mean the toilet?”
“Yes, of course. Will you be a dear and hurry? I am quite hungry and none of the cans of albacore tuna are opened. I tried to use that thing and I broke a nail.”
Xena stopped talking and Mercy heard a weird wet sound echoing from the car speakers around her. “Ohmygoddess, are you licking your fingernail?”
Xena swallowed quickly and audibly. “Not now I’m not. Hurry, kitten. I think I might be faint with hunger.”
Mercy rolled her eyes as she envisioned the voluptuous cat person who definitely was in no danger of passing out if she missed a meal. “Xena, if you’re that hungry call the pizza place and give them our takeout order. I know Abigail has Foxfire in her contacts; you don’t even need to look it up.”
“Kitten, I prefer not to speak to strangers.” She whispered the last word so that it almost sounded like a hiss.
Mercy sighed. “Okay, well, then you’ll have to wait a little longer. I’m only a few minutes away from downtown, so I’ll stop by the pizza place, wait for our to-go order, and then be home.” Mercy cleared her throat and then added with feigned nonchalance, “Uh, have you heard from Hunter?”
There was a stretch of silence before Xena answered in a much-subdued tone. “No. Shall I find her name in Abigail’s phone and press call?”
“Oh, bloody hell no!” Mercy’s response was quick and the words burst from her like a command. She sighed and licked her lips, which felt as dry and cracked as her feelings, and started over with less emotion. “What I mean is don’t call her because of me. If you want to try to talk to her, go ahead, but be prepared for her to hurt your feelings. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told you she barely looked at me all day at school.”
Xena’s sigh mirrored hers. “Perhaps our Hunter just needs some time.”
“Yeah, perhaps.” Mercy said the words without believing them. Something had happened to Hunter and she didn’t think time would change it. “I’ll get your pizza—with extra tuna. See ya soon.”
“Oh, kitten, could you also bring home some of those lovely salts for my bath? I’ve used all of Abigail’s and I do need my nightly soak. I am not as young as I once was, you know.”
“Exactly how old are you, Xena?” Mercy asked mischievously—knowing the question would definitely get the cat off the phone.
Xena’s gasp was Oscar-worthy. “A lady never tells her age!”
“You’re not a lady.”
“I most definitely am. At this moment. Now, will you get me my salts?”
“Of course. The IGA’s just down the street from Foxfire. I’ll get them while the pizzas are cooking.”
“Thank you, kitten! I shall be waiting on the porch with the light—” Midsentence Xena accidentally hung up on her.
“That cat…” Mercy muttered. She was so used to Hunter being with her that she heard her twin’s response of, Right? That cat! lift from her memory—but that’s all it was. Just a memory.
Mercy shook herself mentally. “Welp, Xena made my decision for me.” She spoke aloud to chase away the ghost of her absent twin. Foxfire Pizzeria was in the northern section of Main Street, not far from the IGA. Mercy glanced at the digital clock on the dash—it was almost nine o’clock on a weeknight. “Sod it!” Mercy took a left. “Hardly anyone will be downtown anyway.”
It didn’t take her long to navigate through the sleepy neighborhood to Main Street, where she turned left again and easily found a parking spot right in front of Foxfire Pizzeria. Feeling relieved that the heart of the town appeared to already have gone to bed, Mercy closed the car door with her hip as she shoved her hand in her bottomless purse and felt around for her violet Kate Spade wallet.
“Repent, Witch! The end is near!”
The shout was punctuated by the siren of a police car.
Mercy was so startled by the simultaneous shout-siren that she almost dropped her purse. Her head snapped up to see a tall, painfully thin man with dishwater-colored hair that hung in mats around his shoulders pointing a dirty finger at her from the middle of the sidewalk.
“Bloody hell, Chuck. You almost gave me a heart attack.” Mercy glanced around, expecting to see the police cruiser speed by, but the siren seemed to be coming from the neighborhood behind Main Street—and it shut off abruptly. She turned her attention back to the shouter on the sidewalk and frowned at the man she and her sister had dubbed Creepy Chuck when they were in grade school. Goodeville’s conspiracy theorist and self-proclaimed Prophet of Jesus was harmless, except for his smell and his ability to be soundless when he wasn’t shrieking at Goodeville residents to repent and prepare for the Rapture. She started to walk past him as she shook her head. “Seriously, it’s not cool to sneak up on people and yell at them like that.”
He moved with fluid quickness to block her and bent down so that his face was way too close to hers. Spittle flew as he shouted, “It spreads! Infects! Poisons! From them to me, and me to us. Can you not see?” The horrible stench of gum disease wafted over her along with another, more coppery scent.
She gagged and stumbled back, as the door to the pizzeria opened and the middle-aged owner, Terry Mitchell, rushed out.
“Chuck, I’ve told you before—you harass people by my restaurant and I’ll call the cops on you! Now leave Hunter alone and get goin’.” Mr. Mitchell made a shooing motion at him.
Chuck glared. “You are blind, too! When will you see the poison? What will it take?”
Mr. Mitchell pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Okay, then. Calling the cops it is.” Before the restaurant owner could connect the call a second siren wailed from somewhere behind him, and even though its sound was different—more ambulance than police—Creepy Chuck spun around as if he could see through the block of buildings before he turned back to face Mercy.
“You’ll be sorry! Repent and stop the abomination you have caused!” Chuck shouted in Mercy’s face then laughed maniacally as he sprinted past her and into the street where he caused a truck to brake abruptly to avoid hitting him.
Mr. Mitchell shook his head as Chuck disappeared into the shadows. “That crazy is a nuisance. You okay there, Hunter?”
“Mercy,” she corrected automatically. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sheesh, he has bad breath.”
“Next time Sheriff Dearborn comes in for a pizza I’m gonna have to have words with him. Chuck’s gotten worse and worse. He’s setting my customers on edge. I actually had to stop a fight between two grown men right out here yesterday afternoon—broad daylight! The truth is Chuck’s bad for business. Speaking of—you coming in for a pie, or you going down the street to a lesser restaurant?” Mr. Mitchell smiled good-naturedly at her—and then his brows went up as his memory kicked in and in a much more subdued voice he added, “Real sorry to hear about your mom, Hunter. Real sorry.”
Mercy sighed, but didn’t bother to correct him. Again. “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. Yeah, I’m here for takeout.”
“Your usual? Individual seafood pizza, extra tuna add broccoli, and a large veggie pie?”
Mercy’s stomach felt sick as she corrected the order. “Well, almost. Make the large veggie an individual, too. And, um, add a Greek side salad, please.”
