Mortal Kiss (29 page)

Faye rubbed a hand across her eyes. “I just can’t think straight. Trying to choose an outfit right now … it seems stupid.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Liz told her, patting her shoulder.

“But the last time we were at school, everyone was acting like a zombie,” Faye pointed out. “Are you sure they’re even going to be holding the ball at all?”

“That’s definitely what was going on when Jimmy and I went by,” Liz insisted. “They’ve been planning it for weeks, so maybe it’s a kind of autopilot thing? It’s not as if anyone has anything else to do, what with the town snowed in.”

Faye shuddered. “We still don’t know what Mercy’s plan is,” she said. “They could all be part of it.”

“I guess that’s why we have to act now,” said Liz. “You know, before she can do anything?”

Faye nodded miserably. “I guess you’re right.”

Liz watched her for a minute, as if trying to decide what to do. “I wish I could help, Faye. But I don’t know what to do, other than make sure you look amazing.”

Faye managed a watery smile. “It’s OK,” she told her friend. “I just have to do this. You’re helping with that.”

Liz nodded, looking unhappy as she said, “From the look of everyone heading to the school, it’s a full-on ball theme, not the usual Halloween stuff. You need something really spectacular and glamorous.”

Faye shook her head. “It’s no good,” she muttered. “I don’t have anything like that.”

“Maybe I can help?” The girls turned to see Aunt Pam standing in the doorway, holding a large cardboard box. She walked in, setting the box on the bed.

“What’s that?” Faye asked, intrigued.

“Something I’ve had under my bed for a very, very long time,” her aunt said softly. “Take a look. I think it’ll fit you. I was only a few years older than you when I bought it.”

Faye and Liz went to the box, lifting off the lid together. The dress inside was soft and had been carefully wrapped in tissue paper. The girls took it out, unfolding the paper.

“Wow!” said Liz as they removed the last of the tissue. “Wow.…”

Faye shook out the gown, and both girls gasped. It was silk, a shimmering, pale peacock blue with a full skirt and an elegantly boned corset top that laced up at the back. As Faye held it up to the light, something that had been rolled inside the gown fell to the floor. She bent down and picked it up. It was a lace veil. She was stunned.

“Is this—Aunt Pam, is this a
wedding
gown?”

“Yes, it is,” her aunt admitted. “Not that I ever wore it.”

Faye and Liz stared at her. “I—I had no idea,” Faye stammered.

Aunt Pam smiled sadly. “Well, let’s just say you’re not the only one to know what lost love feels like,” she said quietly. “But that’s another story. Come on, hurry. I’ll find something of your father’s for Finn to wear. He can’t turn up in his dirty old leathers.”

#

Finn was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Faye appeared. He’d thought he was prepared for anything, but he hadn’t expected her to look so beautiful. He stared at her dumbly as she smiled shyly, moving carefully down the stairs to avoid stepping on the skirt of her dress. Finn recovered himself before she reached the bottom, holding out his hand to help her from the final step.

“Faye,” he whispered, taking in her hair, pinned in loose curls. “I—uh … I don’t know what to say. You look amazing.”

She smiled again, blushing. “You too. Nice … shirt.”

Finn looked down at his outfit self-consciously. He was wearing a pair of black pants and a white dress shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Your dad’s jackets were too small for my shoulders. And”—he indicated his open collar—“I can only fit in the shirt if I don’t button it up completely.”

Faye laughed. “Don’t be silly. You look gorgeous.”

Finn wanted to stand there looking at her forever, but there was so much at stake. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But we have to go, right away.”

Faye nodded, looking around at their little group. “What is everyone else going to do?”

“Lucas and Jimmy will come with me back to the camp,” said Joe. “We’ve got to pack everything up; then we’ll all head down into town. I’m taking the real scroll with me for safekeeping, but I’ve copied the signs and incantations you need here.” He handed Faye a piece of paper. “Just make sure you mark the mirror exactly as I’ve written, OK?”

“I’ve got the fake ballots,” Liz said, holding up the papers before stuffing them into her purse. She was wearing Faye’s old prom outfit, a short yellow satin dress with delicate spaghetti straps that showed off her shoulders. She walked to Jimmy and reached out to take both his hands. Jimmy leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. They stood like that briefly before Liz took a deep breath and stepped back. “Now come on,” she said firmly. “Let’s go.”

Everyone headed for the door, but Finn held Faye back, just for a moment. They looked at each other, and he saw tears welling up in her beautiful eyes. He tried to find something fitting to say, but there was only one thing in his head.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t know how I could ever stop.”

Faye smiled, the tears threatening to fall. “Then don’t,” she whispered back.

“Just … don’t.”

Despite everything, Faye had to admit that the school looked amazing. All the lights were on, and black gauze had been pinned over the windows so that the building glowed in the dark. Candles flickered inside hand-carved pumpkins, leading the way to the gym, where the dance and the crowning of the king and queen were to take place.

“You know,” muttered Liz, “for zombies they’ve done a pretty good job.”

The lights in the gym had been dimmed to a low glimmer, but the disco ball that hung from the ceiling was on, casting a dense pattern of circling pinpoint stars throughout the room. Black paper bats flickered overhead in the dim light, suspended on invisible thread. The dance floor was already full, the dancers a twirling, spinning riot of color as they moved to the music.

“Look,” said Liz more loudly, nodding toward one corner of the gym. “There are the ballot boxes.”

Faye nodded. “And that’s Ms. Finch guarding them,” she said, seeing her teacher hovering beside the decorated cardboard boxes.

“Don’t worry,” said Liz, “I’ll find a way past her.”

“Are you sure?” Faye asked, worried. “We know now that she’s been Mercy’s for weeks, Liz. What if—”

Liz shrugged, cutting her off. “We don’t have a choice, do we? Wish me luck.” A second later, she set off through the masses of students, weaving around the dancers.

Finn slid his arm around Faye’s shoulder. Faye leaned into his touch. “She can do it, Faye,” he said.

Faye sighed. “I know.” She looked at the large mirror that stretched along the far wall, touching the lipstick she held in one hand. “I have to get to the mirror as soon as possible.”

Finn nodded, and they began to cross the crowded dance floor, holding hands.

#

Liz glanced enviously at her classmates as she passed them, dancing as if they had nothing to lose. There was Candi, looking awesome as usual in an amethyst-colored full-length dress. Rachel was with her, in a floaty outfit that almost seemed as if it were spun from silver. This ball was the best Winter Mill High had ever staged, and here she was, worrying about the end of the world. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have everything back to normal! She bit her lip, realizing that “normal” was what they would have by the end of the night—and Faye would lose Finn forever. Liz’s heart ached for her best friend, but she also wanted it to be over with as soon as possible. At least, if Faye and Finn couldn’t remember each other, they wouldn’t be in pain. Liz’s mind wandered to Jimmy, and she wished he were there with her. His lopsided smile always seemed to make her feel better these days.

She sidled up to Barbie Finch with an innocent smile. The teacher smiled back, her eyes vacant as she scanned the dance floor.

“Hello, Liz, dear,” she said absently.

“Ms. Finch,” said Liz, beaming and turning her back so that it was against one of the ballot boxes. “Isn’t it a great party?”

“Oh yes,” the woman said, her voice a hollow echo, “just wonderful. Wonderful.”

“That’s good. Except—” Liz cut herself off, shaking her head. “Well, I wondered if those bikers were supposed to be here.”

At the mention of the bikers, Ms. Finch snapped her gaze to Liz’s, her eyes narrowing. “Bikers?”

Liz felt herself shiver at the cold look in the teacher’s eyes. No, she definitely wasn’t herself at all. “Y–yes,” she said. “They’re outside the gate—”

Barbie Finch stared at Liz for a moment. “I must investigate,” she said, then swept past Liz.

Liz nodded, watching as the teacher headed for the back doors. She waited until Ms. Finch had left the gym, then turned around, swiftly splitting her fake ballot papers into two piles and stuffing them into the two boxes. She turned around again, checking that no one had seen, but the students were all dancing as if hypnotized by the music—or something worse.

#

Faye edged toward the mirror, letting go of Finn’s hand and twisting off the cap of her lipstick as she did so. No one took any notice as she checked the piece of paper Joe had pressed into her hand. There were two symbols she had to scrawl onto the lower corners of the mirror, and a third that needed to be placed equidistant between the two.

She’d just finished the first symbol when someone bumped into her, making her jump.

“Sorry,” said Finn softly into her ear. He was scanning the room, keeping watch.

She took a deep breath and smiled shakily, moving on to the second corner with Finn beside her, blocking anyone from seeing what she was doing.

#

The bikers were almost finished loading everything onto their bikes. Lucas, having helped with the quick packing up, had taken a seat beside the dwindling fire as Jimmy went to get them both coffee. They were cold and tired, but both knew there was a lot more that had to be done tonight.

As he waited for Jimmy to return, Lucas took out the scroll and looked at it. He ran his fingers over the creased, ancient paper. He couldn’t believe that Finn and Faye’s fate had been sealed by what was written there, or that the ritual described in the scroll was all aimed at stopping his mother. Lucas shook his head. He hadn’t really figured out what was going to happen to him now that he was, basically, homeless. It seemed selfish to worry about such things when his newfound brother and the girl he loved were about to sacrifice everything to save the town.

Lucas was still looking at the scroll as Jimmy returned with the coffee and sat down beside him. Lucas took the tin mug held out to him, glad to have something warm to wrap his fingers around. The snow was falling again, and the temperature had dropped even further.

Jimmy, trying to get comfortable, shifted suddenly, knocking Lucas’s elbow. Hot coffee splashed out of the mug, drenching Lucas’s legs and hands.

“Oh no—the scroll!” Lucas stood, frantically shaking the now-wet parchment, trying to remove the droplets of coffee.

“I’m so sorry!” said Jimmy, jumping up, distraught. “I can’t believe I did that—is it ruined?”

Lucas squinted at the scroll with a frown. He stopped shaking the paper, letting the coffee run along the yellowed text. “No,” he said quietly. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimmy let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness for that. If we hold it near the fire, maybe we can dry it out.”

Lucas wasn’t listening. He was watching the droplets of coffee on the paper. Putting down his mug, he ran one finger along the wet words, feeling his heart begin to hammer wildly.

“Lucas?” Jimmy asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m no expert,” Lucas said hoarsely, still staring at the scroll in his hand. “But shouldn’t old ink run when it gets wet?”

Jimmy leaned forward, and Lucas heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at the paper in his hand. “Oh no …”

Lucas jumped up and ran straight to where Joe was packing his bike, Jimmy beside him all the way.

“This is a fake!” Lucas shouted. “This text is a fake!”

Joe looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Look at it,” Lucas hissed, shaking the scroll. “If this had been written in ink from centuries ago, it would have run. But it hasn’t. Joe—it must be modern ink on
old
paper!”

Jimmy looked from one of them to the other. “What does it mean? For us? For Finn and Faye?”

Shocked, Joe rubbed a hand over his eyes. “That Finn was right. The ritual—the whole thing—it must be a trap.”

“But—”

Lucas’s question was cut off by the long, haunting call of a hunting horn floating out of the forest.

The sound of the horn went on and on. It echoed around the camp, eerie and chilling. Jimmy froze, remembering the last time he’d heard it so close. He remembered the fear of being in the woods alone, the sight of the wolf’s horrible yellow eyes as it came at him from the darkness. He shuddered. The bikers, though, sprang into action, standing up and watching the edges of the camp carefully.

And there they were—dark, slinking shapes, sticking to the gloom of the undergrowth. They slid along the edges of the light cast by the fire, a flash of yellow eyes here, a glimpse of harsh white teeth there. Jimmy turned, slowly, and saw that they were surrounded. He felt Joe place a hand on his shoulder and jumped.

“Be calm,” Joe cautioned. “They won’t attack—yet. Mercy wants something.”

The hunting horn sounded again, and a pale horse slid out of the forest. It was clad in ancient battle armor, engraved black metal encasing its nose and flanks. On its back sat a rider, also armored. The horse stepped forward proudly, heading straight for Joe Crowley. The bikers, suspicious, moved to circle their leader and his visitor, obviously ready to defend him if they needed to.

The rider of the pale horse pushed back the visor of his helmet, and Jimmy was shocked to see the face of Sergeant Wilson beneath. Wilson took something from one of the horse’s ornate saddlebags and thrust it toward Joe without speaking.

It was a silver mirror. Joe held it up, and Jimmy was close enough to see the icy patterns coalescing on its surface. And then, suddenly, Mercy Morrow’s beautiful face shimmered into view. She smiled.