Spellcasters (26 page)

I pulled myself upright. Looked around. Looked at Savannah. Was I dreaming? The last time we’d spoken, she’d stormed off to her room. Now she was rifling through my closet, chattering away as if nothing had happened.

“He says he’s making an omelet. But I’m not so sure. Doesn’t look like any omelet I’ve ever seen. Are you getting up today? It’s nearly eight-thirty.” She whirled around, held my green cashmere sweater up to her chest, and grinned. “Whaddaya think? This winter, maybe?”

“Who else are you going to fit in there with you?”

“You know, you’re not supposed to talk like that in front of me. Young women are very susceptible to negative body image perceptions. I read that last month in
Seventeen
. You’re not fat. Not by a long shot. At least you’ve got boobs.” She turned to the mirror, pulled her T-shirt tight against her nearly flat chest, and frowned. “You think maybe I’m a late bloomer? Or is this it?”

Was this the same girl who’d caused a riot on my front lawn? Who’d then vowed that she didn’t care who’d been hurt? I’d told Cortez that I needed to understand her. How? One minute she was making strangers attack one another, the next she was a normal thirteen-year-old girl, worried about clothes and breast size.

“—time we go shopping, I want new bras and panties. Stuff like yours. Lace and satin and colors. Real lingerie, not that white cotton stuff. I’m starting high school next year, don’t forget. I’ll have to change for gym with other girls. Even if I don’t have boobs, I can’t be looking like a little kid.”

“Savannah,” Cortez said from the hall. “I asked you not—”

He stopped, seeing me sitting up in bed in my chemise. He quickly stepped back, out of view.

“My apologies. Savannah, I asked you not to bother Paige. She needs her sleep. You were supposed to be doing homework, remember?”

“Oh, please. I’m in danger of being handed over to a psycho half-demon and brainwashed into slavery for supernatural mobsters. You think anyone cares whether I know how to conjugate verbs?”

“Go conjugate, Savannah,” I said. “Please.”

“And close Paige’s door so she can rest.”

Savannah sighed and flounced out of my room, swinging the door half-closed behind her. I collapsed back onto my bed and considered staying awhile but I knew, if I did, I might never get up again. Time to face the day … whatever it might bring.

When I walked into the kitchen, Cortez was at the stove, his back to me.

“Savannah has vetoed my omelet, but I assure you it’s quite edible. If you prefer, I can probably manage toast.”

“The omelet will be fine. Better than fine. Tomorrow, I’ll set my alarm. Guests shouldn’t need to fend for themselves in the morning.”

“You don’t need to play hostess for me, Paige. You have quite enough to worry about.”

I grabbed two glasses and filled them with orange juice. “Look, about last night. I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

“You didn’t unload. You have justifiable concerns and I think we should discuss them. If you’d like to talk—”

“I’d like to talk about coming up with a plan. Yesterday was crazy and I know I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, but I’m not usually that disorganized. After breakfast, I’d like to sit down and discuss a plan of action.”

“Excellent idea.”

Contrary to what Savannah had implied, the omelet looked good, and tasted just fine. Once we were both sitting down eating, I noticed the ringer light on the phone flashing. Cortez followed my gaze.

“I turned the ringer off to let you sleep,” he said. “Shall I—”

“No, leave it off. You were right yesterday. I should just start reviewing call display records. I don’t need to hear a constantly ringing phone and I really don’t need to hear those messages. Is the machine off?”

He shook his head. “I just turned the volume down. That seemed safest.”

“Good idea.” At a loud bass thump from Savannah’s room, I glanced toward the back hall. “Did she even apologize to you?”

“I believe her mood is intended as an apology.”

“Making nice.”

“Exactly.”

I lowered my voice. “Do you think she regrets it? At all?”

“That’s difficult to say.”

“Hey,” Savannah said, swinging through the kitchen doorway. “Anyone notice how quiet it is this morning? I just looked out my window and guess what? They’re gone. Poof.” She grinned. “Like magic.”

“Yes, I’d noticed that,” Cortez said, taking another bite of his omelet.

“Are you going to say anything?”

“Such as?”

She sighed. “Oh, come on, Lucas. You aren’t still mad at me, are you? Don’t be like that. Admit it. It wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

“What wasn’t?” I said. “The confusion spell? I hope you’re kidding, Savannah.”

Her eyes clouded. “No, I’m not. Look outside. Look. They’re gone. I made them leave.”

“First, they are not all gone,” Cortez said. “There is still a small contingent remaining. Most, however, have left, due perhaps in part to your actions, but quite probably owing more to this.” He stood, walked to the counter, and picked up several sheets of paper. “It appears East Falls has grown weary of its recent influx of tourists.”

He laid the sheets on the table for Savannah and me. They were printouts from a website covering local news.

“I hope you don’t mind, Paige, but I took the liberty of using your computer this morning. After last night’s problem, I feared the number of onlookers might increase. When I saw that the reverse had occurred, I was curious.”

I scanned the articles. The one I wanted was right at the top of the page, with the biggest headline. “Old-Fashioned Shunning Shuts Down Media Onslaught.” In colonial New England one of the most severe punishments a Puritan community could inflict on its members was shunning. Instead of exiling you, they banished you socially. They pretended you didn’t exist. Parents have always known how infuriating such a punishment is. The worst thing you can do to a child is to ignore her. That’s what East Falls had done to the crowds of strangers drawn to my story.

After a half-day of being beset by the plague of locusts, the people of East Falls had withdrawn into their homes, locked the doors, and taken
the phones off the hook. That left the media searching in vain for quotes and sound bites. Then, when dinnertime came, no one could find an open restaurant within twenty miles of East Falls. Even the grocery and variety stores had closed early. Then, when they tried to find lodgings, every motel, hotel, and bed-and-breakfast in the county was suddenly full.

Sure, people could drive to Boston for food and shelter—if they had enough gas. All the local stations had closed at nine. This didn’t stop the most intrepid reporters and ghouls from hanging around, but more than enough had decided it simply wasn’t worth their while. No one was giving interviews. I wasn’t coming out of my house. The dead weren’t rising in the local cemetery. There was really nothing much worth seeing in East Falls. For now, at least.

“This is bullshit,” Savannah said, swiping the papers to the floor. “People didn’t leave because of this. They left because of me. Because of my spell.”

“Your spell may have frightened off a few,” Cortez said. “But, under normal circumstances, it would have only increased the level of public interest. Yes, some would have left … those who were merely victimized by the spell and who played no active role in the violence. A confusion spell exacerbates violent tendencies. Those who enjoyed the emotional release would stay. And more would come—the sort of people hoping for a replay. Without this shunning, the situation would have only worsened.” He paused. “I know that you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the spell you cast, Savannah.”

Her eyes hardened. “I knew exactly what I was doing, sorcerer.”

“Don’t you talk to him like that,” I said.

Cortez lifted his hand. “You didn’t understand it, Savannah. I know that. No one holds you responsible—”

“I am responsible! I got rid of them. Me! You—you two—you have no idea—”

She grabbed the tablecloth, wrenching it and spilling dishes to the floor. Then she turned and stalked away. When I stood to go after her, the doorbell rang.

“Goddamn it!” I said. “Does it never end?”

“Let me get the door. Ignore Savannah for now.”

He headed for the door. I followed.

Cortez persuaded me to wait around the corner while he opened the door. Though I hated any perception of hiding, he had a point. There were still nine or ten people on my lawn waiting for me to make an appearance.
After last night’s riot, I couldn’t risk another scene. “Good morning, Officer,” Cortez said.

I slumped against the wall. Now what? I’d seen more cops in the last few days than on a weekend
Law & Order
marathon.

“Department of Social Services,” the officer said. “Come to see Miss Winterbourne. I thought I’d better escort them to the door.”

What could be worse than a police visit right now? A child welfare visit.

“I believe your appointment was for this afternoon,” Cortez said. “While we appreciate your interest in Savannah’s well-being, I really must ask you to return then. We had an incident here last night. A very upsetting incident and, as you might imagine, my client had a difficult night and is not yet prepared for visitors.”

“That ‘incident’ is the reason we’re early,” a woman’s voice replied. “We’re very concerned for the child.”

The child? Oh, right … my loving ward, currently barricaded in her room. Oh, God. Would they want to see Savannah? Of course they would. That’s what they were here for. To evaluate my parenting skills. I would have laughed … if I hadn’t been so close to crying.

Cortez argued for several minutes, but it soon became apparent that he was wavering. I didn’t blame him. If we refused to admit Social Services, they would think we had something to hide. Well, we did have something to hide. Plenty, in fact. But, God knew, if we didn’t let them in now, things might be even worse when they returned.

“It’s okay,” I said, walking into the hall. “Come in, please.”

A fiftyish woman with an auburn bob introduced herself as Peggy Dare. I didn’t catch the name of the timid blond with her. It didn’t matter. The woman whispered hello and never said another word. I escorted them to the living room, then offered coffee or tea, which they refused.

“May we see Savannah?” Dare asked.

“She’s resting,” Cortez said. “As I said, last night was very hard on all of us. Naturally, Savannah, given her youth, was particularly affected by the violence.”

“She’s very upset,” I managed.

“I understand,” Dare said. “But that, of course, is why we’re here. If you would let us speak to her, perhaps we can verify the extent of the damage.”

“Damage?” Cortez said. “That seems rather judgmental.”

“It wasn’t intended that way. We’ve come with an open mind, Mr. Cortez. We only want what’s best for the child. May we see her, please?”

“Yes, but unless I’m mistaken, part of your mandate is to assess the physical environment. Perhaps we can begin with that.”

“I’d like to begin by speaking to Savannah.”

“As I’ve said, she’s sleeping, but—”

“I am not, Lucas!” Savannah shouted from her room. “You are such a liar!”

“She’s very upset,” I repeated.

Cortez turned toward the hall. “Savannah? Could you please come out for a moment? There are some people here from Social Services who would like to speak to you.”

“Tell them to go piss up a rope!”

Silence.

“Haven’t heard that one in a while,” I said, struggling to smile. “Sorry. I’ve been working on her language. She’s very upset.”

“More than upset,” Cortez said. “The events of last night were extremely traumatic. Paige has been trying to soothe her all morning. Professional help may be necessary.”

“I’m not the one who needs professional help!” Savannah shouted. “You don’t see me running around trying to save the world. Wonder what a therapist would say about that?”

“What is she talking about?” Dare asked.

“She’s confused,” I said.

“I’m not the one who’s confused! And I didn’t just mean Lucas. I meant you, too, Paige. You’re both crazy. Fucking looped.”

“Excuse me,” I said, hurrying for the back hall.

When I got to Savannah’s room, the door opened. She glared at me, then marched into the bathroom and locked the door. I grabbed the handle and rattled it.

“Open this door, Savannah.”

“Can I take a pee first? Or are you controlling that now, too?”

I hesitated, then walked into the living room. Dare and her partner sat on the sofa like dumbfounded bookends.

“You—you seem to be having some discipline issues,” Dare said.

Savannah screamed. I raced for the door, casting an unlock spell under my breath as I ran. Before I could grab the handle, the door flew open. Savannah burst into the hall.

“It’s here!” she said. “Finally! I was starting to think it was never going to come.”

“What’s here?” I said, hurrying to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She grinned. “I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding? Where? What happened?”

“You know. My period. My first period. It’s here.”

She lunged into my arms, hugged me, and kissed my cheek. The first spontaneous display of affection she’d ever shown, and I could only stand there like an idiot, thinking “Well, that explains a lot.”

“Your … you got your period?”

“Yes! Isn’t that great?” She whirled around and punched the air. “Watch out, Leah. I’m—” She stopped, seeing Dare and her partner standing in the hallway. “Who the hell are you?”

G
etting rid of the social workers proved remarkably easy. After that display, they couldn’t wait to run back to their office and file their report. I tried to get them to stay and conduct the complete interview—now that Savannah was soaring high and eager to please—but they were having none of it.

Within minutes, they were gone. Cortez had done nothing to help me persuade them to stay. The moment they’d left, he ushered us into the living room, waved us onto the sofa, and began to pace. Cortez pacing. Not a good sign.