Poison (26 page)

I blew a tendril of hair off my face. “So everybody made it?”

“I think so,” he said. “Although Becca said that Verity was delirious.”

“What’d she say?” I asked cautiously. “Verity, I mean.”

He spread his hands. “Don’t know. The usual Verity stuff, probably.”

“So it was just a passing thing,” I whispered.

“Looks that way. I’m sorry, though.”

My head snapped up.

“For how things turned out. With Fabienne. You know what I’m talking about.”

I turned away.

Peter stood up and walked toward me. “Come here,” he said, taking my hands.

“No!” I fought him as he pulled me to a standing position. “Peter, there’s something—”

He kissed me. Deeply, passionately, thrillingly, perfectly. I was terrified.

“Relax,” Peter said, massaging my shoulders. “You’ve had a rough night.”

After a moment I realized that whatever horrifying power had come through me at the dance was no longer working. Peter was safe from me. “You have no idea,” I muttered.

“Well, everything’s okay now.” He kissed me again. This time I allowed myself to melt into his arms. “Please don’t think that kiss—the other kiss, with Fabienne—meant anything. It didn’t to me, and probably not to Fabienne, either. She was just scared, and—”

“Shh. I know,” I said, burying my face in his neck. “I know.”

“I’ve never loved anyone except you.”

“I love you, too, Peter.” Inwardly I felt a huge weight lifting off me. If Peter could be this close to me and not get sick, then maybe I wasn’t the problem, after all. Maybe what happened at the dance was just some freak occurrence—

“Dude!” Cheswick stood in the open doorway as my door bonged against the wall. “I thought I heard your voice. Some night, huh?”

“What do you want, Cheswick?” Peter pulled away from me, frowning in annoyance.

Cheswick put up his hands, palms out. “Hey, busting in on you guys was definitely not my idea, man.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Verity,” I said flatly. I should have known the little snitch would do something, although I didn’t yet know what that would be.

“What’s she look like?” Verity’s voice came from somewhere down the hall.

“She looks
normal,
babe. I told you—”

Verity’s face appeared. Not her body, just her face peeking into the open doorway as if it were growing out of the frame. “It’s gone,” she said with some surprise. “The nimbus.”

“The what?” Cheswick asked.

Verity just kept staring at me.

“Okay, what’s this about?” Peter asked.

“I believed you the last time you said you didn’t use magic,” Verity said, not paying any attention to either of the boys. “You lied then, and you’re probably going to lie again.”

“I
didn’t
lie!” I protested. “And I’m not—”

“You know I’m obligated to tell my father what you did.” Her voice was quiet and even. “And he’s going to have to take it to the board. You shouldn’t be at Ainsworth, Katy. You’re too dangerous.”

“Will someone please tell me what she did?” Cheswick pressed.

No one answered him. In the silence that followed I saw that they were all looking at me, even Peter, and I realized there was no point in deluding myself anymore. “It’s this,” I said, holding up my hand. I thought about what Verity had said, and how irritating she was. The ring on my finger glowed a dull blue.

“It’s coming back,” Verity said, squinting her eyes. “The
nimbus. I can see it forming around you like a dark cloud.”

I closed my eyes. As miserable as I should have been—Verity hadn’t been kidding about telling her father, the school’s attorney—I nevertheless couldn’t help but feel the ring’s strength as it filled me with its power. With its poison, which felt so good.

With a little shriek Verity retreated into the hall, where I heard her retching. Cheswick ran after her.

“Katy—” Peter began.

“Get out.”

“But—”

“Get out now.” I heard the rising note of panic in my voice. “Please.” It was happening all over again. “Go!” I screamed, slamming the door behind him.

It didn’t feel good now. It just felt like I’d lost the person I loved most in the world.

I stood for a long time with my back against the door, crying silent tears. Verity had been right. I was dangerous. I couldn’t control the ring. I never had been able to. I couldn’t even control how I felt about it. I’d known when the power had started to grow just now. It was when Verity had called me a liar. And it wasn’t even what she’d said that had set things off. It had just been something in the whiny, weaselly sound of her voice. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like
her.
And when the ring had started to glow, I’d been glad. I’d felt powerful. I’d felt
right
. So right that, at that moment, I could have killed her.

It was the Darkness coming into me, just as it had come into Morgan le Fay. I knew it, and—God help me—I welcomed it.

As I stood there trembling, hating myself, the orange roses Peter brought me withered and died inside their paper cone.

•

Calm. Stay calm. Think.

Being alone during those early-morning hours gave me a chance to assess my situation. As horrible as it was, there were two things that offered some hope. One was that apparently I wasn’t always the bringer of doom. Peter hadn’t keeled over when he’d come to my room. Neither had Verity, until she’d started threatening me. I knew she was going to say that I’d zapped her out of spite, but that wasn’t the case. I couldn’t help it.

I supposed that made things worse, the fact that I couldn’t control the ring’s power. It seemed to be tied in with my emotions. I was like the Incredible Hulk, except that instead of turning green and beefy when I got angry, I became evil.

Great. That was just swell. I could picture my entry in the yearbook: Serenity Katherine Ainsworth, honor roll, French club, pawn of the Darkness.

Okay, it wasn’t funny. Which was what made me cling like
crazy to the other slender possibility—that maybe someone could unmake this curse Morgan had saddled me with. Only one person had ever bested her—the Seer of Avalon. Unfortunately, from everything I’d heard, she wasn’t exactly Glinda the Good Witch, but I was desperate. The Seer was my last hope.

•  •  •

When the first streaks of daylight cut through the dark of night, I picked up the phone and called Bryce. “I need to see you,” I said.

“What? Who is this?”

“Katy. Can you meet me right away?”

A snort. “Dream on, girl.” His modern English wasn’t giving him any trouble now, the little creep.

“Please.”

“I just stopped heaving an hour ago,” he said crankily.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t important.”

“Jeez,” he complained. There was some scuffling, yawning, water running, throat clearing. “All right. I’m up now. What do you want?”

I told him about the versimka. “It’s the same scene as before, but there are things about the picture that are different. The lake is . . . Well, the picture’s just different.”

There was a long pause before he said, “You woke me up at the crack of dawn to tell me about a painting?”

“A painting that Morgan le Fay brought to my room, Bryce.” I heard him exhaling. “There was something else. Written across it was the word ‘poison.’ ”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that . . . well, I might have caused what happened at the dance last night.”

“What?” He yawned. “Are you telling me that
you’re
what made everyone get sick?”

“I think so. And not just here but in Avalon, too.” I told him about the ring Morgan had given me. “I was wearing it when I fell into the lake. I think when that happened, I may have poisoned it.”

“The lake?”

“Yes.”

“So take the ring off,” he said irritably.

“I can’t.”

I could picture him rubbing his head and examining his teeth in the mirror. “Have you tried butter?”

“It’s not that the ring is
tight
,” I said irritably. “It’s bonded to me somehow, by magic. I need to know how to break that bond.”

“And you’re asking me how to do that?”

“Not you,” I said. “The Seer of Avalon.”

He coughed. “Are you insane? You’re lucky she didn’t kill you the last time you decided to pay a visit.”

“I know, but I can’t think of anyone else who’d be able to help me.”

“Yeah, well . . . ”

“Please, Bryce,” I pleaded. “You could convince the Seer to listen to me.”

“Why should she?” he shouted into the phone. “Look, Morgan gave you a poison ring that won’t come off, and then this painting thing to get you back to Avalon. She
wants
you to go there, Katy.”

“I know.”

“Do you know why?”

“To destroy it, I think.”

“But the lake . . . ”

“I don’t know. Maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe that’s why she sent me back a second time.”

“That makes sense.” The line was quiet for a few seconds. “Still, I think your plan is hobbling.”

“Hobbling?” I thought about it. “You mean ‘lame.’ ”

“I do. As lame as it can be.”

“Well, I can’t go to Avalon by myself. Those witches will kill me if you’re not there to protect me.”

“Protect you? What do you think they’ll do to me?” he sputtered. “I’m the one who lost Morgan in the first place. They’re not exactly going to greet me with a brass band, either. Besides, if you’re right about being poisonous or whatever, I don’t really want to come near you. No offense.”

“I’m okay now. It won’t happen again, I swear.” I crossed my fingers. “Just meet me at my gram’s house. And don’t tell Peter.”

“Listen, I don’t know about any of this—”

“Bryce?” It was Peter’s voice.

“What are you doing here?” Bryce asked, away from the phone.

“Don’t say anything to him!” I hissed.

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll try to stop me from going.”

“That might be a good idea,” Bryce said. “Listen, Katy—”

“Shut
up
!”

“Give me that.” Peter again. “Katy?”

Oh, hell.

“Katy?”

I hung up. So much for Bryce’s help.

•

Plan B.

It must have been the coldest day of the entire winter, with winds so fast that the bits of snow that blew off the trees and rooftops felt like icy daggers. Clutching the versimka under my arm, I made my way to Gram’s.

She was waiting for me, along with the others I’d asked her to invite: Miss P, Agnes, and Hattie Scott. They were standing on Gram’s porch, bundled up in their parkas. “Katy, dear, let’s do go inside,” Gram entreated.

“I can’t, Gram. I need to be out here while I talk.” I knew I was probably safe to be around, but I’d seen how quickly things could change, and I didn’t want to take any chances with my eighty-six-year-old great-grandmother.

“Well, this better be damn good,” Hattie said, red-eyed and looking at her watch. Saturday was always a late night at the restaurant, and she’d been alone in the kitchen while Bryce, Peter, and I had been at the dance.

“I’m sorry, Hattie. I won’t take long.” I moved the versimka in front of me. “I guess I’d better start with this.” I explained that it was the painting that I’d gone through to get to Avalon. “They called me poison,” I said. “And they were right. I think I’ve poisoned their water supply.”

“You what?”

“I didn’t mean to, Gram. It happened because of this.” I held out my hand.

“Your kitty cat ring?” Gram squinted at it. “You’ve had that for weeks.”

Hattie put her hands on her hips. “If you brought us out here for some kind of engagement announcement—”

“Gracious me!” Gram exclaimed. “It’s not even gold.”

“Are you pregnant?” Hattie demanded.

“Is it Peter?” Agnes ventured.

“No, no, no!” I shouted. “It’s a lot worse than that, believe me.”

“I see it,” Miss P said. Her eyes were slits, partially concealing a greenish glowing light behind them. “Yes . . . there’s a blue stone,” she said slowly.

“Morgan le Fay gave it to me, and now I can’t take it off,” I nearly sobbed. “That’s why I asked you here. Can you help me?