Banishing the Dark (The Arcadia Bell series) (12 page)

The door swung open. I saw half a second of glistening naked male flesh. Mostly chest—holy crap, better than I remembered—and the vague promise of other alluring body parts in my peripheral vision.

For the love of God. Didn’t this place have towels?

Just because I’d gotten naked for research didn’t mean all bets were off. Rattled, I held out Wildeye’s torn notebook page in front of me to block the view.

He cleared his throat. “Repeat what you just said.”

I tapped the paper with my index finger. “This is in Pasadena. Rooke Gardens. It’s a private botanical garden owned by Karlan Rooke.”

“And I should recognize that name because . . . ?”

“He used to be a high-ranking member of the E∴E∴, but he quit when . . . well, I was about Jupe’s age, I guess. Caused a big hubbub at a national occult convention in Florida. He hated my parents.
Hated
.”

Lon made a small noise. “Interesting.”

“He was grandmaster of the Pasadena lodge, but when he quit the order, the lodge fell apart and eventually shut down altogether.” A droplet of water fell from Lon’s wet hair and plopped on his shoulder. Very distracting. I forced myself to look away
and refocus on Wildeye’s notes. “Those words, ‘Naos Ophis,’ were scribbled below the address. Can’t find anything at all on that exact phrase—”

“I remembered in the shower,” Lon said. “
Ophis
is Greek for ‘serpent.’ ”

A dreadful chill ran through me. The hand holding up the torn paper fell to my side. “Temple of the Serpent.”

“Was that the name of the Pasadena lodge that disbanded?” Lon asked.

Each E∴E∴ lodge had a different name. Seventeen lodges in total, but the Pasadena lodge had been named Astera, and none of the other lodges was named after snakes or serpents. No dragons or lizards, either. “Naos Ophis definitely isn’t an E∴E∴ lodge.”

“A rival order’s lodge? The Luxe, maybe?”

I thought for a second, just to be sure. “No. Not Luxe. Not any of the other orders. I would remember.” Hard to forget when your parents made a habit of murdering other orders’ leaders.

“Maybe this Karlan Rooke started his own order.”

“It’s possible. Oh! And there’s something else—his father was one of Aleister Crowley’s secret bastards.”

Lon’s eyes narrowed. “Very interesting.”

“No proof, of course. But everyone in my order seemed to think it was true. I remember my parents talking trash about him, saying that he was no better than a commoner with no magical skills. Calling him slurs like ‘half-breed,’ that sort of thing.”

Lon grunted. “Wish we had a better idea of what we’d be walking into.”

“I could contact the E∴E∴, see if someone will talk to me about Rooke.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The fewer people who know where you are, the better. Your order may rise to the occasion and help you—”

“But with the caliph gone . . .”

“Let’s not sound an alarm just yet. I say we follow this independently until we’re forced to ask for help.”

He was probably right. I just wished I knew whether Rooke would see me as friend or foe now that I knew the truth about my parents. He had to be in his seventies by now, which meant he knew a hell of a lot more about E∴E∴ politics than I did. And that made me both nervous and curious. Mostly nervous.

Lon’s fingers curved around the back of my neck, as though I were a wilting tomato bush needing a support stake. “Let me call Jupe,” he said in a soft voice. “I’ll tell him we’ll be driving to Pasadena later tonight.”

Jupe stepped off the Morella city bus and squinted into the morning sun, trying to get his bearings. This wasn’t the nicest neighborhood. Lots of warehouses and trashy cars lining the curbs and a bunch of old, ratty houses at the bottom of the hill. Not exactly the kind of place he’d imagined when he pictured Cady’s occult order. Then again, she never really talked about it. Guess it brought back a lot of bad memories.

He checked his phone. Crap. It was already eleven. It took him half an hour to walk from his junior high to the Village, then another two hours on the bus. Ditching school was a lot of work, and things only got harder once he made it to the city. Mission Station—where the La Sirena bus dropped him off in Morella—was crowded with weirdos and smelled like sweaty balls. And deciphering the Metro schedule was beyond ridiculous. If it weren’t for the lady at the information kiosk, he might be in Reno by now.

Kar Yee was right: public transportation sucked, big-time.

On top of all that, his dad had called in the middle of all this, forcing Jupe to lie: no, that wasn’t a car engine, it was, uh, the school janitor polishing the floors. So lame, but it was all he could think of in the moment. At least his dad’s knack didn’t work over the telephone.

He surveyed nearby warehouses for a street address while he waited for the GPS on his phone to show him which way to walk. Looked like he was three blocks away—not too far, thank God. His feet hurt, and it was chilly. He flipped up the collar of his jacket and followed the arrow on his phone.

The GPS pointed him to a run-down building next to a pest-control company. Two straggly palm trees flanked the main door, where a silver hexagram was painted. Surely this wasn’t the Bull and Scorpion Lodge—the name listed on the website for the local chapter. Jupe had envisioned a spooky-looking temple. Maybe some flashy occult artwork of a bull fighting a giant magical scorpion,
Clash of the Titans
style. But this place looked like it existed just to provide homeless people with shelter from the wind.

The front door opened, and a Hispanic girl about his age stepped onto the covered stoop. She was dressed in jeans and a pink hoodie, and her dark brown hair was twisted into two messy buns on either side of her head. When she saw him, she stilled. Big brown eyes blinked at him over the apple she was eating.

“Hi,” Jupe said.

She disengaged her teeth from the apple and wiped her mouth on her hoodie sleeve. “Hi.”

“Is this the Bull and Scorpion?”

She blinked again and gave a suspicious glance up and down the sidewalk. “Yeah.”

“You should have a sign.”

“We don’t need one. This isn’t a grocery store. We don’t need to attract customers.”

Kind of snotty, jeez. Jupe was ready to fire back with something just as smart-ass, but his gaze dropped to her boobs, and he got a little discombobulated. Half the girls in his class were flat-chested. This girl . . . was not. She was a little bit round everywhere, now that he was looking closer. Not fat, exactly. Just sort of cushiony. Folded arms suddenly blocked his view. He glanced back up at her face. Uh-oh. She wasn’t happy.

“What do you want?”

At that moment, Jupe had no freaking idea. It felt like someone had scooped out his brain and replaced it with marshmallows. He tried to smile. A lot of girls at school would get all weird and spacey when he smiled at them. Unfortunately, this girl did not. He cleared his throat. “I’m Jupiter—Jupe. Uh, you can call me Jupe, I mean. My last name’s Butler.”

“Do you go to St. Pius?”

“Church?”

“Private school.”

“I go to La Sirena Junior High.”

One dark brow arched. “What are you doing out here in Morella, then? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I
am
in school. My mom brought me here during lunch to help with some stuff.” She gestured with the apple toward some unspecific place down the street. “I go to Pacific Bay.”

Jupe shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a middle school two blocks from here. My mom teaches drama.”

“I’m in eighth grade,” Jupe said stupidly.

She blinked a few more times and uncrossed her arms. “Me, too.”

“What’s your name?”

She opened her mouth to answer but seemed to change her mind. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because it’s polite to ask?” God. What was her problem? “Or don’t tell me. I don’t care. I didn’t ditch school to shoot the shit. I’m here to get some information.”

“You ditched school to come here?”

“That’s none of your business.” Ugh. Now she was making him cranky. He waved her to the side. “If you’ll please move, Miss No-Name. I have important business.”

She didn’t budge. “It’s not open.”

“But you just came out of there,” he protested.

“My mom’s the grandmaster, which means I can
come here whenever I please. It’s not open to the public today.”

“Grandmaster? What’s that? Is that like a caliph?”

There went that brow again, sliding halfway up her forehead. “How do you know about the caliph?” she asked.

Oh,
now
he had her attention. Best to play it cool. He leaned back against one of the palm trees. “I know a lot of stuff. My dad’s girlfriend is a magician.”

She didn’t seem as impressed as she should have been. “Is she a member?”

“Just of the main lodge in Florida.”

“
Hmph
. My mom’s the head of the Bull and Scorpion. That’s what grandmaster means, since you didn’t seem to know.”

“I thought you said your mom taught drama class.”

“She does.”

“Both?”

“Why is that so strange?”

He shrugged. Cady had a normal job, too. So he guessed it wasn’t. If his weirdo drama teacher back in La Sirena was a magician, it might actually make monologues from
Macbeth
more interesting. “Look, I just need to talk to someone about helping me out with a project.”

She took another bite of her apple. “What kind of project are you talking about?”

“I need some information.”

“What kind of information?” she asked

“Lodge secrets.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” he asked. “I don’t even know your name.”

A muffled voice called out from the other side of the door. “Coming, Mama,” the girl shouted over her shoulder before turning back to Jupe. “Sorry. Lunch break’s over, and I’ve gotta walk back to school before the bell rings.”

“Wait!” Jupe detached himself from the tree. “I’m being serious about needing help. It took me two hours to get out here.”

She hesitated. “You’ll have to come back when the lodge is open to the public.”

“Which is when?”

“Sophic Mass is tomorrow at seven p.m. And that’s seven p.m. sharp—if you’re even ten seconds late, they won’t let you in. They lock the doors. So don’t be late.” She tossed her half-eaten apple into a trash can and opened the door.

“Mass? What the hell is that? Do I have to dress up?”

“It’s a public ritual to raise energy. Bring ten dollars for a donation. We have dinner afterward. It’ll be good. My dad grills out back. And it’s casual dress. I just wear whatever I had on at school that day.”

“Seven tomorrow,” he said, more to himself than to her. How the hell was he going to catch another bus out here? He’d have to think of a good story to
tell the Holidays, which made his stomach hurt a little, because he didn’t really like lying to them.

The girl slipped inside the door and turned around to look at him one last time. “I like your jacket,” she said in a softer voice, gesturing toward the monster patches on his sleeves. “A lot of old movies are better than new ones, but I usually like books the best.”

Oh.

Wow.

Jupe had a lot to say about that, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. His mouth went all dry, and his heart was beating like he’d been running.

“By the way, my name is Leticia Vega,” she said from the shrinking darkness of the closing door, pronouncing her name with a rich, rolling accent. Le-
ti
-ci-a. “And if you
ever
call me ‘Letty,’ I’ll lay a hex on you that’ll make all your teeth fall out.”

If Lon intended to give me another chance to see him naked, I missed it. He called Jupe and the Holidays to report in, and I fell asleep before he’d even finished his phone call. When I woke to the sound of our dueling cell-phone alarms, he was in the other bed, and it was half an hour before sunset. We quickly packed up and began the five-hour drive to Pasadena, trading barren wild coast for the sprawl of Southern California.