Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

A s Aimee and I walk along the path that provides the border between the parking lot and the beach leading back to town, I can’t stop thinking about Zane and what would’ve happened if I’d been able to stay. He might’ve leaned in, kissed me.

I can’t even be pissed at Aimee. I was the one who panicked, who used her as an excuse.

The sidewalk leads us toward the park through the center of town. The park’s divided into sections. There’s a part geared toward little kids and has all the plastic playground equipment, shredded tires on the ground and lights overhead to ward off the vandals.

Then there is the old section of the park the city chose not to upgrade with the metal slide and monkey bars, the climbing dome, and a sandbox long ago taken over by cat shit. That is where I used to play when I was a kid and Mom brought us to the park. Aimee always sat under the tree and read. She has a collection of Bront? and Austen books that she’s read a thousand times since she was ten.

The lights here are blown now so we walk through the dark and Aimee tugs my arm. “Come on, RJ. This place gives me the creeps.”

There’s an energy here that crackles in the air. It’s not like lightning. But the crackle isn’t in my imagination. Neither is the light. I walk off the path toward it. What the fuck is happening? Every step I take brings me closer to the sound, and it’s louder now, less of a crackle, more of a continuous popping sound. One pop slides into another.

I head toward it even as Aimee calls me back. “Don’t leave me here, RJ. The dark is closing in.”

“Come with me,” I hiss back in a stage whisper.

“RJ!” She cries out, and whatever is happening stops for a second then starts again, and this time the sound is thunder and ahead of us. I approach slowly, one small step then another and another. Each one is tentative, leaves from this neglected area crunch under my feet, but I’m focused. I’m walking through the dark to find out the meaning behind the sound and light.

The light wavers as I get closer. Aimee is behind me, but she gasps as she sees what’s happening in front of us. There are ropes of light, waving up and down from the body of Margery Faulkner—I recognize her from the Institute—to a person whose back is to me.

I should run out there and stop this, break that tether, but I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot. This isn’t a cat in a tree. I know what this is. A fucking syphoner. A syphoner stealing the power from Margery.

My mind gives a quick rundown of the things I know. First, Margery is a third-year witch. I don’t know how our power is measured as witches, sorcerers, etc., but I’ve seen her around. She’s got skills. It begs the question of whether a syphoner takes the power of another witch by opportunity only or if maybe Margery was stalked to this place, or worse, lured.

She is writhing in pain, her body spasming, though her feet are a few inches off the ground. Her back bows and her head is closer to her feet than is normal or should even be possible.

“Stop!” It’s not my voice, but Aimee’s that rings out. I pull her shoulder back.

“Aimee, no!”

She jerks away, even though the crackles in the air now are danger not magic. Sometimes I can see things. I don’t even know if Aimee can see the ropes of magic leading from Margery to the syphoner.

Syphoner. Aimee is vulnerable. Margery’s body falls in a heap to the ground near the tree where Aimee used to read. The syphoner turns and charges toward Aimee, who tries a shield spell, but it isn’t strong enough and the syphoner charges through. She’s running at full speed, hard toward Aimee.

Aimee stands her ground, confident she can fend off the syphoner. “RJ, help Margery!”

She plants her feet as I try to run around the syphoner. But there is a force around her—the syphoner—and it bounces me off. I skitter to the side and then rebound back in a line to get to Margery, but then Aimee screams. Her body is connected to the syphoner by the ropes, one from her chest and one from her shoulder.

“Aimee!” I scream and run toward her. She’s my priority right now. I linebacker my way between them and Aimee falls to the ground. The syphoner looks at me as I break the hold.

She’s familiar. Someone I’ve seen before who is dressed all in black, from her leggings to her sweatshirt and shoes. She’s blonde and tall with a long face, thin mouth, and a short nose. I can’t tell how old she is, but she’s somewhere between my age and my mom’s. Her hair is pulled back but it isn’t long enough that I can grab hold of it to swing her around. But I reach for her, and she bats my hands away then chants low and in a language I can’t understand.

After repeating her words a few times, she frowns like what she’s expecting to happen isn’t. She pulls in a full breath then repeats her chant twice more, and frowns again when nothing happens.

I lunge for her and she says, “Stop!” and I’m motionless, held in place, frozen. I can’t move. And then an excruciating pain rips through my belly. She’s trying to take my power, to suck it out of my body. The pull is strong, but she’s failing, trying to control my body the way she did Aimee’s and Margery’s.

I cry out. The pain eases and then spikes again. I pause my fight, wait until it once again ebbs, and I’m trying to thrash my body, call on every muscle and bone, trying to break free of the spell so I can move, so I can help Aimee or attack this thing that’s trying to kill us.

I’m using all of my strength, making no headway against the force pushing me back, and then all the magic disappears and I fall forward, smack my face on the ground and pain explodes inside my head. The last thing I hear is a voice ask, “Why are you not like the others?” And then the world fades to black.

When I open my eyes, it all comes back to me in degrees, I still can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t get to Aimee who is laying on the ground beside me.

But I can see. And I can hear. In my head, I’m screaming for my sister, to move, to let me know she’s alive. Her eyes are closed and she has a gash on her head.

I try to reach for her, but my finger only twitches. Then, of what might be its own volition, my body flips over and I’m looking at the night sky, the stars between the trees, a streetlight in the distance.

“RJ!” I know the voice and it gives me chills—but the good kind this time. “Help me get them to the Jeep, Dylan!”

Zane lifts me so that I’m against his chest. I try to say his name, but my mouth won’t move. It’s a magic spell and I need someone to break it. But right now, I can’t ask. Right now, I’m drifting between consciousness and sleep. My eyelids close again and I don’t know how long they stay that way, but when they open, we’re driving and I’m lying across Zane’s lap. I can’t see Aimee, and my stomach aches. Where is she?

Shadows slide by in the dark open air of the Jeep. Every few seconds, a light flashes and speeds past. Or maybe we’re speeding past the light. I can’t tell. And then, when the car squeals around a corner, Zane’s arms tighten around me. “Just hang on, RJ. We’re going to get you home.”

In the front seat, I can see Finnick is driving, Piper in the seat beside him, and in the back Zane is holding me while Dylan holds Aimee.

“We’re almost there, Zane,” Finnick says in a shout over the wind and the bees in my head. Then, the familiar steeple top of the church at the end of the street I live on flashes by.

I manage a nod, or I think so as I look up at him and he glances down at me. “I’m not going to let this happen to you, too.”

I want to ask what he means, but I can’t form the words. I can only think them. I also want to tell him about the syphoner. What I saw and how it all happened because I’m afraid if I close my eyes again, I’m going to forget.

Cords of light that moved in waves up and down, back and forth between Margery and the syphoner then Aimee and the syphoner. It didn’t happen to me.

I close my eyes and my fingers flex into his shirt. “It’s okay, RJ. I promise you’re safe now.”

He thinks I’m frightened, but really, I’m only trying to move, trying to make my body respond to what I’m telling it to do. I try to reach for Aimee, but for all the flexing my fingers can do, my arms are still immobile.

And that’s exactly how I am when Zane carries me up the sidewalk to the house.

His shirt smells like cologne and chest is hard beneath my cheek, but I can’t enjoy it. I don’t know how Aimee is and I don’t know how I am. I only know that I don’t like being helpless. I don’t like it one fucking bit.

He shifts my weight as the door opens and I hear my mother’s voice. It’s a comfort. She’ll know what to do. She has to. I want to reach for her, but I can see her face as Zane walks me past her.

“RJ!” And a second later, she gasps harder, louder. “Aimee!” She tells Zane, “Put her in the chair.” And to Dylan, she says, “Put Aimee on the sofa.” There’s a frantic undertone to her voice, but she would never show any kind of emotion in front of strangers. The chair is soft under my ass, and Zane arranges a pillow under my cheek as my head weaves and bobs into the arm of the chair .

He crouches in front of me, looks at me. “Do you know what happened?”

I can’t nod, so I lower my eyes and hold them closed for a minute.

“Is that a yes, RJ?”

I blink again, same way.

“You boys can go.” My mother’s voice is firm and angry. If I was grounded before, I’m going to be under lock and key now. But so long as Aimee’s all right, they can put me in a dungeon where I can’t drag her into anymore of my schemes for as long as I live. I’m certain my mother will consider it. “I can handle this now.”

Zane stands so that I only have a view of his legs. But then the door opens and closes and my mother comes around to stand in front of me, but she’s facing the sofa. She’s helping Aimee.

And then she’s in front of me. “RJ, what happened?”

I try to lift my head, pull it up not more than an inch and then it falls. I can’t answer anything yet. I whimper and she brushes my hair back. “My poor girls. I’m going to fix you, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.”

She pushes to her feet and walks into the kitchen.