Wicked Hungry (29 page)

I look at Enrique, who shrugs.

“Walk with me, both of you,” Blaine says.

We walk with him.

“I didn’t choose to have the gateway here,” Blaine says.

“Who did, then?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe the gateway chose its own destination. Maybe it had a little help from the faerie courts. From the excavation for the new mall. But it wasn’t me. I swear it. All I know is that when it moves, I must follow it.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why do you have to?”

“Because it chose me,” he says. “Just like it chose you.”

“It chose me?” I ask.

“Yes, with the key,” Blaine says. “It chose you when it gave you the key.”

“What does the key have to do with it?”

“You have the gold key now. I have the silver and the bronze. I think the gateway wants another gatekeeper. Maybe the job is too big for just one person.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I’m sure of one thing,” he says. “I’m sure I need your help. You saved my daughter and your friends. Without you, they would all have been—”

“But if I hadn’t done all that, Karen wouldn’t be dead now, would she?”

He shrugs. “You never know what could have been. But I know I’m grateful to you, and I’m so sorry about your friend.”

“Thanks so much for the words of sympathy. But they’re just that. Words. They won’t bring her back.”

He’s silent then. Finally the man shuts up.

“You really think we can help save lives?” I ask, finally. “Keep people safe from that gateway?”

“Let me be plain. I think without your help, Stanley, there will be more deaths.”

He lets me think about that for a moment.

“Do you think you can help me, then?” he asks.

“I’ll think about your offer. Is this job paid?”

He nods. “Pay and benefits.”

“And I’ll be helping the community.”

Blaine nods. “They need you, Stanley. We all need you.”

“Do you think you might have a job for my friend Jonathan, too?” I ask. “You know, he could help with your store — he’s really into manga.”

“I’ll have to consider it,” he says with a smile.

“Consider it?” I ask. “Like I’m considering your offer? Then hurry up, consider.”

He looks at me. “Okay, I’m done.”

“And?” I ask.

“And?” he asks, right back at me.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay,” he says.

And my fate at Natural Magic is sealed right there with a handshake, with my friend Enrique as a witness.

He looks at Enrique. “You want a job, too?”

Enrique shakes his head. “I’m too busy working at the garage.”

Blaine smiles. “I could teach you ways to make cars do amazing things.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll have to think about it. Wouldn’t that be cheating, using magic in cars?”

Blaine shrugs. “You know, magic is hard work, too.”

So we leave it at that. I say goodbye to Enrique and Blaine and walk into my house.

My mother has me prepare the pot roast myself, which is kind of torture, since I want to bite into it raw. She makes me leave it in the oven for two hours. She tells me about how my meat was once a noble buffalo, grazing on natural grasses on the plains of Oklahoma, before it was humanely processed, put into plastic, and shipped to our Whole Foods.

She’s being very brave. Luckily she has her coven. They’ll be meeting almost every other night until the problems pass. Which doesn’t look to be anytime soon.

Do I have to tell you that I finish off the two pounds of roast myself? My father is proud of me. He was never as much into vegetarianism as my mother. He tells me he’s never seen anyone put away so much food.

Finally it’s time to go to sleep. But first I pick up the phone.

Meredith picks up on the first ring. “Hello, Stanley?”

“Hi,” I say.

“Are you doing all right?” she asks.

I don’t really know how to answer that question. I mean, my stomach is full and warm, but my heart and my mind are empty and cold. So I don’t say anything. I can kind of feel her there, waiting, on the phone.

“I promised you I’d call,” I say.

“Do you want to come over?” she says.

“It’s late,” I say. “I want to get some sleep.”

“I think it’s going to be a little hard to sleep tonight, don’t you?”

Then there’s this silence. Maybe she realizes she’s said too much. I don’t know.

The silence is drawn out, and I just want to hang up the phone. Maybe we just don’t have anything else to say to each other.

“Are you still angry, Stanley?” she asks.

“Just tired, I think.”

“You don’t hate me, do you?”

“I’m too tired to hate anyone,” I say.

“Ouch,” she says.

“Sorry,” I say. “That came out a little rough. But I don’t hate you, anyhow.”

“Thanks,” she says. “That makes me feel a little better.”

“Are you going to be all right?” I ask her.

“I think so. If you promise you’ll call me tomorrow night. I’m afraid I’m going to have the nightmares again. I keep remembering what happened. But did it really happen? Or was it all a dream? I can’t keep it separate anymore.”

“I’ll call you,” I say.

“Are you going to ignore me at school?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, I’d like you to act like my boyfriend.”

Her boyfriend? Her boyfriend. Did she just say her boyfriend? She said it. And she’s waiting for me to say something.

“I’m not sure I can do that,” I say.

“Please, Stanley.”

“Really,” I say. “I’m sorry. But you’ve got to give me some time. If you need a hug or something, I’m there, but—”

“Thanks,” she says. “I guess that’s the best I can expect, huh?”

“I don’t know, Meredith. But it’s the best I can do.”

“Goodnight, Stanley. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Meredith.”

I hang up the phone and turn off the light. The room is dark. I lie back and close my eyes. All things have beginnings, middles, and ends, and this story is no exception.

But my story doesn’t end here.

I
lie down to sleep. I close my eyes tight and try to release all the tension in me gradually, starting from my toes and moving up all the way to my ears. It’s a difficult process, and usually it’s foolproof. By the end you’re either asleep, totally relaxed, or both.

It would be nice if my story ended here, but it doesn’t. Because this time sleep eludes me.

Not only that, but I’m no longer alone. There’s a cold draft in my room and a smell of damp earth. Have I left open a window?

My eyes open against their will. My lids are so heavy. There’s someone here with me, sitting at the end of my bed. Quiet. Waiting. And very dead.

The room fills with the smell of damp earth, and something else. The sweet tangy smell of roses. Dead, dark, wilted roses.

I sit up slowly, but her hand reaches out, touches me lightly.

“Lie down, Stanley. It’s easier for me when you’re lying down. And close your eyes.”

I lie back down and close my eyes. The room is cold and silent, and I feel goose pimples on my arms. I can’t help it; I shiver.

“You’re cold,” she says. “I’ve brought the cold with me. I bring the cold with me everywhere now.”

“That’s okay,” I say, my eyes closed. “But why are you here, Karen? You’re dead, aren’t you?”

“I told you I’d watch over you, Stanley,” she says.

“I know,” I say. “But you’re
dead
now, Karen. You’re supposed to be resting. You don’t have to watch over me anymore.”

“I know,” she says. “You think I don’t realize I’m dead?”

“Sorry,” I say.

“No need to apologize,” she says. “I want to thank you, Stanley, for holding me at the end. It wasn’t easy to leave you. And now you seem to be stuck with me again.”

It takes me a moment to realize that she’s crying.

“It’s all right, Karen,” I say.

“What?” she asks. “What’s all right? That I’m
dead
? That I’m here in your room, instead of resting in peace? How can that be ‘all right?’”

“Is it terribly hard?” I ask.

“Is what hard?”

“Staying here,” I say. “Not moving on.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, that’s all. You deserve to be at peace. That’s why I let them take you. The Sisters, I mean.”

“Stanley, that’s sweet,” she says. “You didn’t have to say that.”

I hear her get up then, but she doesn’t leave. Not just yet.

“Stanley, there’s something I need you to do for me.”

She tells me what it is. Her dead lips whisper secrets in my ear.

And then she’s gone. And I’m finally alone. And you know what? She even closes the window on the way out, yet somehow I’m still cold.

I figure now there will be a bunch of tossing and turning and eventually I will fall asleep. It would be nice to say my story finally ends here.

But it doesn’t.

Thinking about what she said, I’m afraid my story is just beginning.

Author’s Note

I hope you enjoyed
Wicked Hungry
.

If you enjoyed this book, feel free to share your enjoyment with other readers. Consider reviewing
Wicked Hungry
, so others can find and enjoy the book as well.

You can find news about my writing at my website

http://www.teddyjacobs.com

There you can also find my contact information, which is

[email protected]

Also, feel free to sign up for my mailing list for information on new releases, opportunities to see new content before it is published, and on special offers:
Sign up for my newsletter!

P.S. I am working on a sequel. 