This choice: No you can't -- so you'll bow out of this business. • Go Back...Chapter #25Yielding the Floor, Before You're Mopped With It by: Seuzz   Kill someone? Is this guy serious?
No, the real question is even worse than that: Could Sydney be serious about something like that?
You can't help shivering. "I'll talk to Sydney about it," you mumble with downcast eyes.
"Yeah, you do that," Dee drawls, and the contempt in his voice is unmistakable. "You ready to go do that now?"
"What?" You jerk your head up.
Dee snorts at you, then stands. "I said—"
* * * * *
He's serious about going out to Sydney's to talk, but you have to admit you don't know where she lives. So Dee has you text her for directions, then gets her number from you so he can talk to her directly.
But on the drive out, you chicken out and ask him to take you home. "You can talk to her about it," you tell him. "If you wind up needing anything from me—"
"Yeah, we'll send you a message by carrier pigeon," he assures you.
The words are harsh there's no meanness in his tone, which makes it even worse. He knows he's bullied you off, so he doesn't even have to try to be nasty to you anymore.
* * * * *
You spend the balance of day waiting to hear back from Sydney. You have a wretched time of it. The minutes drag by as you wait with a tingling sickness in your heart. What is she telling Dee, you wonder, that she wouldn't tell me? What is he promising her? What is she promising to do for him—to do with him—to let him do to her—to get his help?
Pretty soon you're feeling like you want to tear your own face off.
It's all the worse because you won't let yourself do anything else while waiting, so even when Keith invites you along to a movie he and some other guys are going to see, you turn him down. The afternoon withers into an arid but anxious emptiness, one barely relieved by a trip out to the old school to check on that fire. It's gone out (again) but it relights, and you make the weary trip back to the house feeling as though you've accomplished less than nothing.
Half a dozen times you almost text Sydney: Hey, what's going on? or Hey, waiting to hear from you or You and Dee still talking? or Text me when you can. But the only message that matters is the one you tell yourself: Don't be pathetic. So you keep very still and quiet.
You're a wreck when Sydney finally does call you after supper. "Hey Will," she says, and her voice is pinched. "So, um, I just wanted to catch up with you. Talk to you. About stuff."
"That guy still with you?" Your heart feels like it's being squeezed in a vise.
There's a pause. "Dee?" she says. "No, he— We just wrapped things up. Um, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Yeah?"
"Listen, I had a really long talk this afternoon with him and his— Well, I guess you'd call him his friend. They told me about— Well, we talked about lots of stuff. Stuff to do with him and stuff to do with me." Another pause. "Um—"
Just spit it out! you want to yell.
"I don't think you want to, um, to be involved."
You don't answer. Now it feels like your heart is being torn in half.
"Will, are you there?"
"Yeah. So did Dee promise to—? What? Set the guy on fire? The one you want to—"
"That's why I'm telling you you don't want to be involved. It's— It kind of scares me a little. What Dee was saying."
So tell him to fuck off, you want to say. Tell him no thanks, I changed my mind, go away. Tell him you don't want anything to do with ley lines or magic, you just want to be a normal girl and hang out with the guy you—
"So I'm just catching you up to speed," she says. "I don't want you worrying about me. And when all this is done—"
Yes? you think without hope. You're going to say that maybe we can still hang out, see each other at parties or at school?
But she backpedals even further than that, and only mumbles something about getting together with you tomorrow.
* * * * *
You do meet up with her the next day, after church. You weren't expecting much—just another report on what went down between her and Dee, only with more excruciating details—but it turns out to be so much worse.
Because she brings him along.
And she asks to meet you out at the school.
So she can show him the thing you've been working on.
You're pacing the ground in a black mood when they pull up in Dee's truck at the old school. He's all sunny smiles as he leaps lightly from the truck cab, and there's a cheery note in his voice, even when he calls you "champ." It sickens you—he's now in so good with Sydney that he can act all sweet and friendly with you.
He sobers up, though, and becomes very alert once you lead him and Sydney down into the basement. He glances around with a sharp eye as he descends the stair, and light seems to ripple off him. He listens intently as Sydney tells him that this is a "project" that you were working on, and how it's that common interest in the occult that you and her bonded over.
You're too numb to take any comfort in her claim that you and her "bonded."
"The fire's gone out," Sydney observes when a silence has settled over the dim and murky basement.
"Yeah," you sigh. "It went out last night but it relighted again. I guess I—"
"What's the fire doing to the thing?" Dee asks. "What is the thing?"
"I dunno. The book—"
"What book?"
"The book I'm working out of. It—"
"It got a name? Where is it?"
"It's under the stuff." You point to the dirt pile. "But—"
But it's no longer a dirt pile, now that you get a direct look at it in the muddy light that comes slopping into the basement through the narrow, dirty windows. The loose dirt has pulled together into a solid mass. It is roughly cylindrical in shape, about six feet long, with the color and texture of cement. There are three rents in it, one up the middle, splitting it in two almost halfway up, while two smaller rents on either side, higher up, look almost like limbs. The undamaged end terminates in a blob like a misshapen onion.
While you're taking this in, Dee has pushed past you and pushed a hand under it, and he's clutching the grimoire when he pulls it back. "Hey!" you exclaim.
"Something biting you?" He casts a swift glance over the open page of the book.
"It wasn't done yet!"
"How do you know it wasn't done yet if you don't know what it was doing?" He flips to the title page of the book. "If you don't know what a spell does you shouldn't— Well well! And where did you pick this old relic up?" He gives you a keen look from under his brows.
"Bookstore," you mutter.
"Really? Barnes and Noble?"
"Arnholms! It's a used book store. It was in the special collections and—"
"So is this the book you were telling me about?" Dee asks Sydney. "The book whosists here says can make these disguises?"
"Yes," she says. "Uh, Will, that mask thing you made of your friend—"
"You made something else with this book?" Dee asks you. You give Sydney a very black glance, and sullenly nod. "This would be perfect, babe," Dee says. "Nicholas'll never see us coming if we use something like the thing you were telling me about."
She beams. "Right! I told you! Will—"
"Go put this in the truck, babe." Dee pushes the book into her arms "Give me a few minutes to look over this dingus your boyfriend made, ask him a little bit about it. I'll be along in five."
Sydney looks momentarily confused, then blushes flushes a bright and happy pink when Dee pinches her arm. "Okay," she beams. Dee watches her all the way as she dashes up the stairs and out the door.
"Look—" you start to say.
"Ask me your questions, I'll tell you no lies," Dee interrupts. He wheels on you, and in two steps he has backed you into a corner. His eyes are alarmingly bright. You shudder all over as you remember how he caused that sugar packet to burst into flame at the coffee shop. Is he going to set me on fire? you wonder in a panic.
"Just repeat after me, champ," he tells you in a soft voice. The tone is friendly, but there's steel beneath it. "Repeat after me: Ask me your questions, I'll tell you no lies."
"What—?"
"Ask me your questions, I'll tell you no lies."
Your throat tightens. You swallow, and your jaw feels numb. But you're too frightened to resist. "Ask me your questions, I'll tell you no lies," you mumble.
Dee's smile widens. "Good! You'll find it goes a lot easier this way!"
* * * * *
It's not hard, what comes next. It's surprisingly easy. He just asks you a lot of questions about the book, like where you found it, what you know about it, what you did with it. He's very matter of fact and doesn't let you wander in your answers. For your part, it's almost alarming how heedlessly you tell him about everything you got up to with the grimoire.
You even agree to go back to your house and bring him the mask you made of Caleb when he asks to see it.
And after he's carried it—and the book—and Sydney—all off, you don't even worry about whether you'll ever see them again.
Because something tells you that you won't.  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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