“It’s just that you two were such good friends. I thought he might have said something to you, maybe mentioned a book of spells or something.”
“A book of spells?” He remembered The History of the Occult, remembered David explaining his belief that magic was the first science, the first religion.
“God, I don’t know,” Kirsty said, her tone angry. “I’m just scared, okay?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m scared too.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes. Jonathan’s thoughts raced as he tried to figure out what to do. He could try talking to David again, but if he was freaking out before Kirsty dumped him, Jonathan couldn’t imagine what David felt now. Besides, if Jonathan admitted what he knew to David, he might become a target himself. Though who was to say he wasn’t already? David had snapped. He’d blown a gasket and spun out of control. Three people were dead, and he’d tried to kill Kirsty, and those were only the crimes Jonathan knew about. They couldn’t go to the police. What would they say?
Hi, officers. There’s a kid who’s controlling these ghost things that smother people. And, well, yeah, he’s being a pain in the ass so could you maybe arrest him, please? Cool. Thanks.
Kirsty’s mother was out of town, and Jonathan’s parents might as well be. They didn’t give a damn. Hell, if anything happened to him, it would probably take them a week to notice he was gone. Kirsty’s suggestion to run away was looking better and better.
“I’m going to talk to David,” he decided.
“You can’t,” Kirsty said, clutching his arm. The roll of tape she’d been spinning flew from her fingers and rolled across the floor. “He’ll kill you.”
“I’ll meet him after school,” Jonathan said. “There’ll be like a thousand people around. He won’t try anything. I’ll tell him what I know. I won’t say anything about seeing you. I’ll just tell him I figured it out, and he has to stop. I’ll threaten to go to the cops or something. I mean, he can’t get away with this. I can’t let him get away with it.”
“But what if he won’t stop? He’s got to know the police won’t believe you. I wouldn’t believe it myself, except…”
“I can’t let him get away with it,” Jonathan repeated. “I just can’t.”
14
As the day wore on, Jonathan’s nerves grew raw. Kirsty fixed them a lunch of chicken soup and roast-beef sandwiches, but Jonathan just nibbled at the bread and sipped a few spoonfuls of broth.
“I can fix something else,” Kirsty said.
“No. This is great. I’m just not hungry.”
“When I’m nervous, all I can think about is food, especially Twinkies.”
“Why Twinkies?”
“I used to eat them by the boxful, but I was a total cow back then.”
“Really?” Jonathan asked. “You used to be over-weight?”
“Total understatement. I was a whale. My dad What an ass.”
“Again, total understatement. He couldn’t smile unless someone else in the room was crying. He criticized everything I did. Hated everything I wore. Nothing was good enough for him. He once grounded me for a week because I didn’t set the table the way he wanted me to. I used water glasses instead of wineglasses or something. I was like six.”
“Man, that blows.”
Jonathan thought about his own parents. Their indifference was so total, they didn’t even bother to comment on his report cards. His mother acted like signing the stupid thing was an act of total martyrdom. His dad just wasn’t around.
“So your dad just left?” he asked.
“Not just left. He had to make sure me and Mom were good and miserable before he went. One night he sat us both down in the living room and told us that he was unhappy, and it was our fault. He said he couldn’t take any more disappointment in his life and thought it best to just leave, because he didn’t think we’d ever be the quality of people he wanted to associate with. That’s exactly how he put it. We weren’t the quality of people he wanted to be with, so he was leaving, and we wouldn’t hear from him and we had no one to blame but ourselves.”
“Jesus, what a tool,” Jonathan said.
“After he left, Mom had a full-on breakdown. I mean, she kept buying self-help books and writing these long essays about how we could improve ourselves as people, and she’d make me read these things. It was like it never occurred to her that maybe Dad was the screwed-up one. She totally pissed me off there for a while. I mean, when she wasn’t crying over the jerk’s leaving, she was all hyped up about projects that would make us better people. She had time-management programs, and she tried to get me to learn French and Spanish. She seemed to be over it for a while. I mean, she still watched every move I made, wanted to be sure I was acting appropriately, but a lot of the weird crap stopped. Then last night she started in again.”
“What happened last night?”
“Oh, I made the mistake of telling her about David.”
“She didn’t like him?”
“Are you kidding? He’s like a genius from a wealthy family. She wanted me to marry him, and she’s never even met him. She freaked when I told her that we broke up. You’d have thought I’d just told her I’d guzzled a glassful of poison, and she thought David was the only antidote.”
“Well, I know he really liked you,” Jonathan offered.
“I liked him, too,” Kirsty said.
Her response sounded like a reflex to Jonathan, not really heartfelt, but he understood. After all, she’d only known David for a few days. It was natural for Kirsty to be confused about how she felt. Jonathan knew the feeling well.
“I wish I knew how all of this happened,” Jonathan said.
“Maybe he’ll tell you.”
Maybe, Jonathan thought. But he was afraid to ask.
Jonathan drifted out of sleep and was startled by the sensation of being covered. Smothered. A Reaper had come for him in his sleep. Desperate to be free, he rolled, but the thing wrapped more tightly around him. He couldn’t breathe. It was all over him, surrounding his head. Jonathan kicked, but his feet were tangled in the fabric of the thing. He swung out with an arm, but it was pinned between his body and the back of the sofa. He tried the other arm and felt the material give. Finally, opening his eyes, he saw the blanket covering him and threw it on the floor. His chest heaved for air, as if he’d genuinely been suffocating.
He looked around, confused by the strange room. The walls were painted a deep brown. The furniture was old and heavy with intricately patterned cushions. Two wrought-iron stands held candles by a large brick fireplace.
His waking mind raced, trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there. Then he remembered: Kirsty’s house.
Jonathan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A cool film of sweat covered his neck, and his pores felt oily.
“You’re awake,” Kirsty said.
He turned toward the voice and saw Kirsty sitting in a high-backed chair. Had she been sitting there long? Was she watching him sleep?
A cold tingle ran down Jonathan’s back.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“It’s after five,” Kirsty said. “I tried waking you up at three, but you were out cold.”
“Damn,” Jonathan said, knowing he’d missed his chance to confront David at school. He could see through the curtains that it was already getting dark outside. If he wanted to speak to David, he would have to go to his house. At night.
“You must have been exhausted.”
“Yeah,” he said, still groggy. “I guess I haven’t been sleeping much lately. It must have caught up with me.”