The Curse of Arkady (20 page)

She felt a tickling in her outstretched fingers as Lacey scrambled up into her palm. Opening her eyes gingerly, she pulled her hand out of the cage, leaving the lid open as she brought Lacey out. The room seemed to have jolted back into normal gear, but she wasn't too sure it would stay that way! She rubbed her pet's head gently with her thumb. Lacey nuzzled back affectionately. They weren't exactly owner and pet; the pack rat was, after all, an animal born in the wild and hardly considered tame to anyone but Bailey.

Yet there was definitely a bond between them and there had been since they first touched, since that day when Tomaz had pried open a loose board in their summer camp floor and found the pack rat and her nest of shiny, stolen objects. Lacey chittered mournfully as if remembering that day, too, and her lost treasures.

“Awww.” Bailey reached back and pulled off her hair band. It was one of twisted silvery tinsel and looked very bright and shiny. Lacey took it in her paws with a happy chirp and dove off Bailey's hand back into her cage, tissue bits flying everywhere. The inside of the cage looked like a snowstorm of color as Lacey dug, her paws sending the tissue confetti every which way, until she had finally eased the silver band into a safe spot and covered it up. Not until Lacey was done making sure the treasure was hidden, did she return and squeak up at Bailey to be picked up again.

Bailey reached inside a second time, and that awful whirling sensation hit her again, like a hammer right between the eyes. She let out a groan as her world went topsy-turvy. She clutched the edge of the kitchen table as her body threatened to slide out of the chair, unable to tell up from down, and gravity laughed at her. Lacey ran up her arm, squeaking in alarm, and buried herself in Bailey's hair and collar, her warm body burrowing against Bailey's neck. She closed her eyes until the spinning went away, and then opened them slowly.

The kitchen stayed put. She hardly dared to look at it to see if it would stay that way. Bailey put her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands, very very still for long minutes.

Click, click, click.

She listened. Something was in the hallway, in the corridor outside the apartment. Something at her apartment door.

Bailey held her breath. She thought she could hear a wet snuffling at the door. An animal. A dog? Not likely; this was pretty much a No Pets building, except for the legally blind guy who lived upstairs with his service dog, but they went to work every day.

Yet when he walked by with his dog, she would hear that same click of the dog's nails on the tiled corridor. But surely they were still at work.

Bailey slid a hand up to her neck and stroked Lacey's silken fur, listening, thinking. Nothing. Nothing but her own breathing, her own heart beating fast. She inhaled deeply. Scaredy cat! There was nothing to fear but herself. And getting horribly dizzy again. What homework she'd done would be ruined if she threw up all over it. Bailey gulped. She reached for her pencil and decided that even boring schoolwork was better than sitting on the edge of her chair, petrified. She had barely put lead to paper when . . .

Click. Click. Click.

A muffled noise at the door as if something heavy leaned or pressed against it. A definite snuffle as if something sniffed at the bottom edge of the threshold. She couldn't be imagining this. Bailey stared out across the kitchen table and down the short hallway to the apartment door. Its deadbolts were closed as was the heavy chain lock, yet somehow she did not feel safe. Lacey gave a tiny squeak at her chin.

She thought of the wolfjackals which had pursued Jason. Could there be one here? Now? Tracking her at her door?

The wet snuffling reminded her of . . . well, Ulysses S. Grunt who still eagerly greeted her at the junkyard fence every time she went by. Could he have tracked her home? She knew she had nothing to worry about if it was indeed Ulysses although she'd have to get him back to the junkyard as soon as possible. Good dog or bad wolfjackal? Who paced outside her apartment door?

There was only one way to find out, and that would be to open that door, and there was no way Bailey was going to be stupid enough to do that. She listened intently. Did she hear a snarling underlining the snuffles? A low, rumbling growl? Wolfjackal! Did she imagine it? Did she hear?

On the other hand, she wasn't about to just sit there and be terrified.

Bailey shot to her feet. She rummaged around the kitchen till she got out the cutting board, the paring knife, and the fresh garlic. Quickly she pulled off a clove of the fragrant herb and chopped it into slivers. The pungent smell filled the kitchen. Raw garlic could be very very strong. No wonder vampires didn't like it! She scooped up the slivers and tiptoed to the front door, then quickly scattered the slivers at the base of the door and its tiny crack. Then she moved back against the wall, and waited.

Click. Click.

Silence.

Then, a wet snuffle just scant feet away from her, on the other side of the door. And the low vibration of a growl. Lacey's small paws dug at her neck and hair as the frightened creature tried to hide better. Bailey stared at the door waiting.

Snuffle.

Then, a sharp sneeze. And another. Bailey put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Another sneeze, followed by a low whine. Then a rapid click click click as whatever it was trotted away.

She held her breath for a bit, to be sure. Lacey shivered against her neck. Nothing but silence.

Bailey let out a cheer. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Oh,” she said to Lacey. “This is going to stink for a long time.” She'd have to chop some lemon to clear away the smell. She thought of something else she had to do, right away, and pulled out her crystal.

 

Eleanora glided across the floor, and wrinkled her nose slightly. Ever defiant of her petite size, she had a habit of levitating a few inches, the hem of her long skirts concealing the fact that she hovered in the air. “You . . . put garlic in your tea?” she asked softly, as Bailey took the whistling pot off the stove and carefully poured very hot water into their best china teapot. The smell of lemon slices and jasmine tea wafted up from the steaming pot as Bailey blushed.

“Ummm . . . no,” Bailey answered. “That's repellent.”

“Very effective.” Smiling, Eleanora sat down at the table, in long skirt and long-sleeved ruffled blouse, and waited for her tea to be poured. She watched Bailey. “When someone activates the alarm beacon, I would gather it's for more than tea. I expected to find trouble.” She extended one slender hand from her ruffled sleeve, tapping her fingers on the table as Bailey poured out two cups and sat down.

Bailey took the chair opposite Eleanora who showed no surprise as Lacey ran down her arm and grabbed a cookie crumb before retreating back up to a perch on Bailey's shoulder. She dunked her cookie and enjoyed the satisfying sweetness before answering. “I'm not sure if we had trouble or not. Making sure would have led to more trouble, I think. Like sending a cheese to find a cheese.”

Eleanora opened a pink packet of sweetener to dose her tea. “I see. I think. There was something here but you didn't investigate what?”

“I think I had a wolfjackal at the door.”

“And no way of finding out for sure unless you opened it to look?”

Bailey nodded. “The peephole wouldn't let me see something that was low and up against the door.”

“So . . . you put down garlic at the threshold?”

“Something kept walking by and sniffing. At first I thought it was the guide dog upstairs, but they're usually at work now. I couldn't think of anything to do, except that.”

“Ingenuous! Apparently it worked.” Eleanora cupped her pendant, a distant look on her face. “There is nothing I sense in the corridor now. However . . .” She frowned, closed her eyes a moment, then opened them and looked at Bailey. “I'm afraid you might have been right. There is a taint there, and it's not raw garlic.” She smiled slightly. “They were bold to have struck here, where they can be observed. They won't be back. They will try other, more shadowy methods next time. You're going to have to be awfully careful, Bailey.”

Bailey shivered. The hairs on the back of her neck and along her arms stood up. She rubbed at her arms. “But I'm safe here, at least for now? They won't try to get us? My mom and I?”

“I can't guarantee that, but the Dark Hand is successful because it doesn't leave itself open to discovery. They know you know that they have located you here, and you can't be taken without a fight, a struggle they want to avoid for now.” Eleanora reached over and grasped her hand. “We'll do everything we can to make sure they stay discouraged!”

Bailey shook her head slowly. “I don't know what I could have done. They had some sort of spell. It made me very, very dizzy. I could hardly sit up, let alone stand and fight, Eleanora.”

“A spell? Describe it.”

“It was awful. I got sick to my stomach. It was like being on one of those rides that spin you backward, then turn you upside down.” Bailey paled just at the memory. “The whole kitchen just went round and round.”

Eleanora looked baffled. “I don't understand, hon. There's nothing I can throw that would cause that. Which is, of course, not to say that Brennard hasn't been researching and trying to create new spells . . . but I haven't heard of that one. Tell me again exactly what happened, and don't leave anything out!” She sat back, teacup in hand, watching and sipping as Bailey began to recite the afternoon over again.

“. . . and then I called for help.” Bailey dunked and slurped up the next to last cookie. Lemon melts, slightly stale and gone very hard, which made them perfect for dunking. Bailey wiped her hands up very thoroughly.

Eleanora sat with an extremely thoughtful look on her face. “Tell me,” she said, “what you would see if you were in Lacey's place and someone reached in for you.”

“What?” Bailey felt her face wrinkle in total surprise. “But . . .”

“Just imagine. Lean back and imagine you are a wee, tiny kangaroo rat in the corner of that cage, and someone reaches in and plucks you up, turning your world upside down and around and around?”

Bailey narrowed her eyes, thinking. Then she bolted out of her chair. “Oh no! I'm turning into a shapeshifter! I'm going to be a pack rat!”

I
'M cursed,” wailed Bailey. “Cursed to become a pack rat!”

“Hmmm,” murmured Eleanora in obvious amusement as she watched Bailey dart around the kitchen. “After having seen your bedroom, I'm not so sure that's incorrect, but it is. You, my dear, are not a shapeshifter.”

Bailey stopped and stared. “But what, then?”

“You merely saw the world for a few moments through Lacey's eyes.”

“No way!”

Eleanora nodded sagely. “Way,” she countered.

“That's impossible.”

“Think about it. And trust me, with your Talent, you may well find strong bonds with an animal or two. Stories of witches and cats come out of real life happenings, only distorted by those who don't understand. I know Tomaz has been wanting to work with you on this, but he's been a little busy with Stefan's problem.”

“No kidding.” Bailey thumped into a chair. It made a little sense, though. The impression of being reached for just before all the dizziness started. “So Lacey and I have a bond.”

“Don't you think so?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bailey smiled and put her hand to her shoulder to stroke the tiny furred ball. “That was pretty awful, though. If I make her that dizzy every time I pick her up . . .”

“Once again, think about it. No doubt there was some dizziness and some problem with your mind trying to handle two sources of sensory input.” Eleanora looked a little smug. “If I may retreat into the scientific for a bit.”

Bailey grinned. “Well done! Pretty soon you'll believe in satellite TV and cell phones!”

“Never.” Eleanora turned pink and shook her head. “Demon technology.” She smiled at Bailey across the teapot. “The important thing, Bailey, is that you not let Lacey overrun your thoughts, your control. She is, after all, only a wee animal and not as smart as you are, although sometimes we may think she's terribly clever.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Think of that part of your Talent as a door. It's always shut. Lacey must knock on it and get permission to enter. Use your meditation exercises on your crystal that you've been doing . . .” If Eleanora noticed the embarrassed and slightly guilty look on Bailey's face at this last, she ignored it and cruised right by. “Those exercises will help you build a framework of contact. Otherwise your mind will have a tiny creature running about in its thoughts nonstop, and that won't be good for either of you.”

“No,” muttered Bailey. “It certainly wouldn't be.” Her hand absently reached out for the last cookie, but Eleanora beat her to it, taking it up demurely and placing it in her tea saucer.

“There are advantages, of course,” the Magicker continued smoothly. “Lacey can get in and out of places very quickly that you can't. That could be very useful, if she is trained.” She broke her cookie in half precisely and devoured part.

“Wow.” Bailey tugged thoughtfully on her ponytail. “Can she be trained? Is she smart enough?”

The beast in question let out a tiny snort as if making fun of Bailey's words. Eleanora laughed.

“She'll do. Let me show you a training exercise that should be fun for both of you. When I was young, we used to play a game called ‘Button, Button. ' ” She smiled slightly. “Buttons were very expensive in my youth. Rather like playing with a silver or gold coin.” Eleanora fished around in the cloth purse attached to her slender wrist and brought out a pretty carved bright red button. “Take this and let her see it, then hide it in plain sight. Always reward her when she finds it.” Eleanora tapped her cookie. “I think a crumb or two of this would make her very happy. Soon, she'll be able to find the button even when it's well hidden!”