Second Skin (Skinned) (11 page)

The power of suggestion, huh? Actually, it was a powerful force in magic. My father had instilled that in me long ago. From the spellcaster to the spell, for instance. If spellcasters didn’t truly believe, their will weakened, and the spells wouldn’t take. Some highly targeted hexes only worked if the victim believed. The very fear that the hex had come down on them was the origin of its strength.

Maybe it was that simple with our night mare issue. What if we all chose not to believe in the demon? Would it weaken? Be banished? I’d tried to get rid of it that morning in just this way. Maybe I wasn’t convincing enough.

I closed my eyes.
I don’t believe.
Nope, I certainly hadn’t felt the pat of the demon’s cold dead hand.
I don’t believe.
Nope, hadn’t seen my aunt and uncle taken over by a couple of demonic bounty hunters.

“Eryn?” Phillips voice sharpened. “I asked you a question.” My eyes flew open. My mouth dropped. “Um…ah…I….”

No clue as to what I should be answering on the amused faces around me.

I don’t believe this.

“And there you have it.” Phillips nodded to the class. “As I said, no matter how many blonde jokes, hair color is no sign of an individual’s intelligence.”

The bell pealed over the laughter of the other students. Har-de-freaking-har.

My hand slapped against the washroom door, and I shoved it open. I followed the narrow corridor and rounded corner, hating that feeling of being a rat in a maze. Why did they do that in washrooms? Did they think the door being closed wasn’t enough protection while we were using the john?

Try casting a protection ward or two. Much more efficient. I reached the stalls and row of sinks and stopped dead.

Inside, with their backs to me, were the three blondes and Paige. But not really WITH her—they had her cornered. I met her panic-stricken gaze and held a finger to my lips.

“What is it with you, Paige?” Janie’s voice was as tough as her bombshell status would allow.

“Yeah, what gives?” Jane said, crowding Paige, keeping her snug against the sinks.

Jan just let out an impatient sigh. Also her job description. That and eye-rolling. She’d probably done that when she sighed, but my view was blocked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Paige stammered. My cousin. Stammering. This was all my fault. Mine and Kate’s.

“Your hair’s a mess. You’re dressed like a bag lady, and yet you think we’ll let you hang with us? Good lord, Paige, you know the expectations.” Janie flapped her skinny arms about in frustration. “What if we all showed up looking like you? What do you think would happen to this school? To the kids who look up to us?”

“Yeah, what do you think would happen?” Jane said. She turned to Janie, “What
would
happen?”

Jan laughed. My opinion of her went up a notch above gnat height. Maybe she was quiet because she was smarter than the others.

“Epic social hierarchy fail,” Janie announced. “Think bargain- bin sales, perms, maybe even legwarmers. I tell you those are never coming back. Not on my watch.” She took a step closer to Paige.

“And you could make it all happen if we accepted you like this. OMG, don’t you know,
just the way you are
is just an expression. You gotta look the part if you want to be our friend.”

Paige’s eyes filled with tears.

“How ’bout I tell what happens if you three sleazeballs aren’t out of here in the next five seconds?”

The three blondes whipped around to face me. Their perfectly made-up faces all sported the same shades. All had the same straight-from-the-stylist dos.

Janie grimaced and shot a look back at Paige. “Backup from your freak cousin? How the mighty have fallen.”

My athame rested safely in the leather holster under my hoodie. I resisted the urge to say to hell with what was left of my reputation and give them the scare of their lives.

“Don’t stress, Eryn, we were just leaving.” With that, Janie and her minions shouldered by and giggled their way into the hall.

Paige gave a gasping snort and then burst into tears. She rested her hands on either side of the wall-mounted sink, leaned over it, and sobbed. Why did girls always end up crying in the washroom? High school was so undignified.

I patted her back gingerly.

“I’m so sorry about this, Paige. I wouldn’t wish those three on my worst enemy.” I paused. “Okay, maybe for a day at least, but then, gonzo. I’d give you a hug, but I have issues with personal space. And we’re not exactly close, you know?”

Paige let out a sniffling laugh. Then she snapped, “Get your paws off me.”

I jerked my hand to my side.
Whoa
. That was old-school Paige. I peered at my cousin’s reflection. Her mouth was open in shock. She twisted to face me.

“Oh, now I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I had no right to talk to you like that.”

I sighed. “Yes, you did.” I shook my head. “I mean, you didn’t, not really, but that’s promising. You’re still in there somewhere.”

Paige lifted an arm and smooshed her face into her sleeve. She looked about to blow her nose in there too.

I bolted for the nearest stall and handed her some toilet tissue. “Thanks,” she said. Then blew. Loudly. “I can’t go back out there. I just can’t face those girls. Why do they think I hang out

with them? I’ve never seen them before.” My jaw dropped.

“You haven’t?” My heart flipped-flopped. Oh, this was bad. “No. And I’m so thankful you were here. Really.” Paige’s

bloodshot blue eyes met mine. “What’s your name, anyway?”

I gave a long, pained groan that bounced against the walls.

This was NOT happening.

“I’m Eryn. I’m your cousin, and as soon as I get some information I promised to nab, we’re going to Kate’s to fix you once and for all.”

“Is that a good thing?”

I slung my backpack higher up on my shoulder. “It’s a very good thing.”

“’Cause you don’t sound like it’s a good thing. And I’m feeling really weird right now.”

I grabbed Paige’s arm. “You’re fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Now, let’s get to the library.”

Paige’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t think I’ve been there before.”

For once I didn’t flinch when Paige spoke, because that wasn’t something she’d forgotten.

It was probably true.

The Rightness of Wrong

A staccato rhythm sputtered in the air, accompanied by hissing and spitting sounds that echoed in the empty hallway— Donald Duck squawking out a melody.

“Are you going to answer that?” Paige asked, wincing. “Answer what?”

“Your phone, silly. That is your cell, right? Please God, make it stop.”

I withdrew my phone from my jeans pocket, careful to grip it so that the back panel didn’t fall off. Dented, scratched, it clung to life as the squawking grew louder. I answered the call.

“Eryn, we need to talk,” Alec said in my ear, the growl in his voice sending a jolt of heat through my body.

I sucked in a breath. “Fine, I’ll see you in the cafeteria at lunch.”

“No…need…talk alone.” Static broke up Alec’s words, but I got the gist.

“Look, my phone’s about to die. I have to let you go.”

Let Alec go. Yes, that’s what I was doing, but, sweet Jesus, it hurt. I hung up wishing I could forget my noble sentiments about keeping Alec safe and just fall into his arms. But I wasn’t that girl. I didn’t quit. And I didn’t endanger those I loved.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing Paige’s arm and guiding her toward the library. “We have work to do.”

Stacks of books lay strewn across the laminate countertop and beyond the circulation desk. Shelving units crammed with hardcover volumes stood as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t that far. About twenty feet—Redgrave High’s library was this side of smallish.

Cold eyes glared at me, sending a shiver up my neck. But it wasn’t the rotten Victorian doll in the display case this time. This time I was facing…the librarian.

Her gaze skimmed over my rust-colored hoodie, dark hair in ponytails, and Alec’s cross necklace resting on top of my Metallica T-shirt before taking in Paige’s pale face and clueless expression.

“Vampire books are over on the far rack. Can’t miss them.” Those eyes returned to the book in her hand,
The Rightness ofWrong
. A scantily clad couple posed on the cover, muscular, shirtless guy and woman with long flowing hair and unlaced corset. Looked like someone had an inner bad girl waiting to bust out.

I knew the feeling. I glanced at the etched nameplate on the edge of the librarian’s desk.

“Actually, Mrs. Larpane, I’m hoping to do some research,” I said. “Do you have mythology texts?”

Those cold eyes again. “On vampires? Same rack. Saves time.” “Ah…no. I’m looking for information on dreams, dream demons, that sort of thing…” I trailed off. “And I’m also interested in the new display outside. Historic Alberta. How cool is that?” I laughed and shot a desperate look at Paige.

“Doesn’t sound cool to me.” She shrugged. Unlike Brit, the queen of sparkling banter, Paige didn’t back me up when I got cornered. Not one iota.

“Oh, but it is.” Larpane put her book face down on the desk. “We were fortunate to get as much realia as we did.” She seemed quite animated now, eyes bright with interest.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Realia. Real historical items. The display has toured all around the province. But, and this is so tragic, the last school to have the display had this huge fire and only a portion of the original materials survived.”

“A fire?” I asked. Hairs on my neck quivered.

“A real book burner, from what I hear. Took half the school down, including the library.” Her face paled. She glanced up at the sprinkler exposed in the ceiling above her desk. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fire or the water damage. Can you imagine? Losing all those books…”

“Yeah, that’s a real shame,” I said. “But as long as no one was hurt—”

“A student died,” Larpane said, interrupting me. “Like I said, a tragic event.” Her eyes brightened. “You wanted dreams and mythology sources, right?”

I nodded.

“Follow me.” Larpane came out behind her circular desk and walked about seven paces to the right. A thrill of anticipation shot through me. She was going to lead us to some mysterious candlelit backroom with a secret altar. I knew it. “Here we are.” She stopped at the first unit of shelving. How anti-climactic.

I watch too many horror flicks.

Paige looked bored and leaned against the shelving’s metal end-unit. She began surfing on her cell phone.

Larpane scanned the books on the shelves, pulling volumes and handing them to me.

“So, Mrs. Larpane, about that display,” I said, shuffling the weight of the books in my arms. “Where did it come from?”

The doll bugged me. It was practically stalking me with those evil stares. The fire thing and its connection to the doll bugged me. Things were amok in Redgrave, and that damned doll had arrived at the same time as the night mare and with a ghoulish history to boot. Coincidence? I didn’t think so. Better if I knew what I was up against. Was this the work of the night mare messing with my mind, or something else?

Larpane looked surprised I hadn’t guessed. “Donated by Harbinger, of course. They’ve got their hands in everything around here.”

I should have known. In Redgrave it all came down to Logan and Harbinger.

“Harbinger seeks out antiques and other items of historical significance. They
do
like Redgrave to have that lived-in, homey atmosphere.”

I frowned. “Lived in?”

“You know, aged.” She met my eyes over the stack of books I held and then grabbed a couple from me. Who knew there were so many books about dreams? “Let’s set you up at a table.”