Scott Nicholson Library Vol 3 Page 25

  “Behold the power of bacon,” Minerva said by way of explanation.

  While the Lurken was otherwise occupied, she hurried into another chant, knowing the spell wouldn’t hold because of a lack of wog:

  Ashes to ashes, bone to bone,

  Let the Orifice be gone.

  Something schlumped and thudded under the couch like the slamming of a rotted garage door.

  “Out of sight,” the man said, standing and unbuckling his belt so he could jimmy his T-shirt back into his jeans. “So, where’s my eggs?”

  Crystal swung the broom at him, but he stepped aside and her foot hit a grease slick on the floor. She fell against him and he caught her, letting go of his jeans, which wormed several inches below his navel as they wrestled.

  “We gave away the wrong pig,” Crystal said, as Minerva tried to pull her free of the man’s grip, which was every bit as persistent as the Lurken’s tentacle had been.

  The trailer door creaked open.

  Pettigrew stood there, staring at his sweating girlfriend, the teddy-bear hoodlum with the unbelted jeans, and Minerva with her greasy fingers, the kitchen in disarray.

  “I can explain,” Crystal said.

  “No, you can’t,” Minerva said.

  “You don’t have to,” Pettigrew said, stepping back out into the cool night air.

  Crystal headed after him, but Minerva stopped her. “He can’t know.”

  Crystal pulled free. “Why can’t I be like everybody else?”

  “Because you’re an Aldridge, that’s why.”

  “Where’s Dollface?” the hoodlum asked.

  Crystal ran to the still-open fridge, felt along the racks, and grabbed two fistfuls of eggs. She began flinging them at Royce, wishing she had a spell to get her out of this dump and into a real life.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I better call him,” Crystal said, annoyed that Momma was pulling her patented “Momma knows best” act.

  “First, tell me where this came from,” Momma said, grabbing Royce by the ear and giving it a twist. He yowled in pain but the fight was gone, so he sagged against the stove and brooded. He had perfect eyebrows for brooding, though the mucus of the eggs was beginning to harden on his hair and skin.

  “I thought you knew everything,” Crystal said to Momma.

  “I know you better let Pettigrew stew for a while,” Momma said. “Give us time to cook up a good story.”

  “What’s wrong with the truth? You said all good relationships are built on honesty.”

  “I lied.”

  “What does that say about our relationship?”

  “What is it with you guys?” Royce said.

  “Shut up,” they answered in unison.

  Minerva opened the closet, returned the broom, and brought out the vacuum cleaner. “I better suck up the residue. No telling what that Lurken glop will mutate into if you leave it laying around.”

  “I’m not going to lose my boyfriend over a simple misunderstanding.” Crystal folded her arms and pouted.

  “One, it’s not simple, and, two, you’re not going to lose him.”

  “Oh, so there you go, knowing everything again.”

  Minerva scowled and tilted her head toward Royce. “Take this back where you found it, and then we’ll talk.”

  Minerva switched on the vacuum cleaner, drowning out Crystal’s snappy comeback. Which was fortunate, because she didn’t have one.

  “Come on,” Crystal shouted over the roar, tugging Royce’s arm. He followed her toward the bedroom.

  “And no funny business,” came Minerva’s last decree, as Crystal shut the door.

  “Hey, Dollface,” Royce said.

  Bone was sitting on the bed, Roscoe in her lap. She’d changed clothes, having slipped into Crystal’s favorite red sweater. Other clothes were scattered across the floor, as if Bone had engaged in her own private fashion show. “You really know how to ruin a date,” she said to Crystal.

  “You know how to ruin a life,”‘ Crystal answered. “What happened to you?”

  “I dunno. I was walking down the hall when—boom—something knocked the wind out of me. I fell and got dragged into the bathroom, where I could smell all those funny chemicals. I thought I saw a shadowy figure rummaging among the bottles, but everything’s fuzzy. When I finally came around, I was lying here on your bed.”

  “And you look real gorgeous there,” Royce said, putting one knee on the bed as if he were going to crawl toward her.

  Crystal rammed a hand in his back pocket and pulled out his ugly toy switchblade, wondering why he hadn’t used it on the Lurken. She felt along the edge until she found the switch, then she sprung the blade and pressed it against his back.

  The tip rested near his heart, if he even had a heart. After all, he was a guy, and a dead one at that. The odds were slim.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Crystal said.

  “Hey, sweetie, forget what happened in the kitchen. We’re all friends here.”

  “You heard my momma. No funny business.”

  “You got a point,” Royce said, and she pressed the knife tip a little deeper to punish him for the pun. The blade bent to the side as she applied pressure.

  “What is this thing?” she asked.

  “A movie prop. You don’t want to be cutting nobody on the set.”

  “Are you in Dempsey’s—”

  “Look,” Bone said. “Somebody else was messing with your momma’s potions, and I got a feeling they weren’t exactly drumming up a homemade household cleanser, a cure for cancer, or a virgin Bloody Mary. This is more important than a dumb old movie.”

  “Great,” Crystal said. “Another thing Momma can blame on me.”

  “Somebody followed him.”

  “Who, me?” Royce said.

  “Don’t play coy,” Bone said. “You ain’t that cute.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Crystal said. “You found an opening and he snuck through your opening and then your hole was open for whatever else wanted to crawl inside?”

  “I think you’re getting it confused with your sexual history,” Bone said.

  “And right now there’s somebody hiding in the trailer who had the power to summon a Lurken?”

  “Somebody or some thing.”

  “Hey, what’s all this about a hole?” Royce said.

  “You’re two clicks behind, Autopsy Boy,” Crystal said. “Stay out of it.”

  “Maybe he can help us,” Bone said.

  “Sure,” Royce said, the circles around his eyes growing a shade darker. “Just put away the knife, will ya?”

  Crystal realized she’d been maneuvering the switchblade like a maestro conducting an orchestra. She had to admit, it felt kind of powerful. Maybe not as powerful as a crisp slice of bacon, but Royce’s eyes tracked its frantic silver melody.

  She wondered why a dead guy could be hurt by his own rubber knife, or, for that matter, why he’d been frightened of the Lurken.

  Maybe she should have paid attention during Momma’s little lectures about talismans, fetish objects, and totems.

  “Okay,” Crystal said. “But hurry up. Knowing Momma, she’s going to be checking on us any second now.”

  “I heard that,” Momma called from the other side of the door. “You two better have your clothes on.”

  “Jeez, she’s a real killjoy,” Bone said.

  “What was that?” Momma yelled.

  “‘Boy.’ He’s a real cool boy.” Crystal put a finger to her lips, shushing Bone.

  “He ought to be cool. I figure he’s been dead at least fifty years, maybe longer.”

  “Okay, Momma. I’ll handle this from here. Trust me.”

  The door rattled as Momma tested the lock. She could probably cast an unbinding spell to slide the tumblers free, but she didn’t seem interested in breaking in. It was more of a reminder that said “Momma will be watching.”

  “Trust but verify,” Momma said, quoting the late President Ronald Reagan, who h
ad been referring to nuclear weapons but might as well have been talking about Darkmeet and the end of the world.

  After the vacuum cleaner started again, Crystal said to Bone, “You’re such a drama queen.”

  “Your momma’s going to find out about me sooner or later.”

  “Consorting with the dead is a serious crime.”

  “That’s funny. Consorting with the living is a serious crime, too.”

  “Depends on which side you’re on. And you always seem to be on the wrong side.”

  “Hey, she’s a swell little dollface,” Royce said. “I’d be on her side.”

  He narrowed his mortuary eyes and smiled, and Bone visibly brightened, though she self-consciously touched the deep, moldering scar that ran along one side of her neck. The gesture pretty much said “Don’t lose your head over a guy the way you lost it over a truck.”

  “Chill, lovebirds,” Crystal said. “You ain’t making googly eyes in my bedroom. We need to figure out who tip-toed through the Twilight Zone and got into Momma’s medicine chest.”

  “Not my problem,” Bone said.

  “You caused it by leaving a trail of crumbs.”

  “Like I’m supposed to be responsible for every ghost and goblin that turns up in Parson’s Ford?”

  “No, just the ones that crawl through my bedroom wall.”

  Royce had regained his cockiness and was again sitting on the bed. Crystal let it slide for the moment, especially since he seemed to be ogling Bone and wasn’t listening.

  “All I did was cut out from Loserville,” Bone said. “I didn’t send out invitations.”

  “And nobody noticed, I’m sure, since you hate attention so much,” Crystal said, flitting her eyes toward Royce.

  “Well, the Judge did sort of make a little deal with me. He let me cross over as long as I kept it a secret.”

  Crystal scowled at Bone. “Obviously he didn’t keep it a secret. No telling what else followed you here.”

  “I don’t know where those Lurken came from. I swear.”

  “Same place as Blue Eyes here. I think it’s a set-up.”

  “They tried to eat me. You saw them.” Royce leaned back on a pillow and swung his boots up on the bed.

  Crystal shoved them off. “Okay, party’s over. Why don’t you get along home before I summon another Lurken? They’ve probably worked up an appetite by now.”

  “Home?” he asked, eyebrows lifting.

  “Back where you came from.”

  “But we’ve got a deal. Lights, camera, action. They need me.”

  “I may not look like much, but I’ve got a spell or two up my sleeve. I could turn you into frog.”

  “Or an eel,” Bone said helpfully. “It’s more fun to say and it rhymes better.”

  “I get the drift,” Royce said.

  “Just drift on out of here, then,” Crystal said.

  “What about my knife?”

  “If you’re a good boy and stay gone, I’ll shove it back through the Orifice tomorrow.”

  Royce looked at Bone. “You coming, Dollface?”

  “I’ll be along in a minute. We’ve got something to sort out first.”

  Royce walked to the closet. “Will this door do?”

  “Good as any,” Crystal said, biting back her smirk.

  He went inside and wire hangers rattled. He emerged a moment later, one of Crystal’s sweaters dangling lopsided around his neck. “Dead end,” he said.

  “You ain’t too bright, are you?” Bone said.

  He grinned as innocently as a 10-watt bulb.

  “I like that in a man,” she said.

  His grin broadened.

  Crystal stood before the small, oily dot on the wall. “Let’s give this a try.”

  She calmed herself and tried to remember the closing spell Momma had taught her to deal with the Orifice. But she needed to reverse it and open it up.

  Ashes to ashes, hole get wider,

  So two people can fit inside her.

  The Orifice widened a little, and greasy stalactites glistened inside. She checked for movement, brainstorming words that rhymed with “Lurken” just in case. The coast appeared to be clear.

  She waved Royce toward it. “Hurry up.”

  “Meet up later?” he said to Bone.

  “Sure,” she said. “In the graveyard. You know where.”

  Royce’s eyebrows lifted again. They spent most of their time in the middle of his forehead, quivering like electric caterpillars. “I do?”

  “Here’s a clue: ‘Quoth the raven: Nevermore.’”

  He nodded sagely. Unlike Bone, whose form drifted through various stages of transparency, he was as solid as ham, even as he looked up and fanned his arms like a swimmer fighting a tide.

  He jammed his hands into the dark morass, yanked the Orifice wide, and pulled himself forward. His head was about to enter the when he said, “What does ‘quoth’ mean?”

  Then his head was through and he appeared to get stuck for a moment as he plunged waist-deep into the hole and kicked his legs. Crystal was tempted to give him a whack on the butt while he was stuck.

  She was already turning her attention to Bone when Royce’s boots disappeared with a slorp. Crystal waited a moment to make sure a tentacle didn’t come poking out. The black hole shrank until it was the size of a sand dollar.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Crystal asked.

  “He doesn’t know Poe, but I could do worse.”

  “Do what?”

  “Royce.”

  “He’s old news. I’m talking about Planet Earth, Parson’s Ford, and, more specifically, Minerva Aldridge’s house.”

  “Trailer.”

  “Do what?”

  “It’s a trailer. And you’re trailer trash. Come up with whatever fancy name you want, ‘High Priestess of Manufactured Housing,’ ‘Princess of Prefabricated Domiciles,’ ‘Royalty of Rolling Homes,’ whatever, it still comes down to trailer trash.”

  “At least we have a house. Your dad took out a second mortgage to get you the finest casket money could buy, a regular Cadillac with handles, but you don’t even have the decency to stay in it.”

  Bone rose from the bed, features rippling in diaphanous shades of gun-metal gray. She lunged toward Crystal, who just had time to step back before the open-handed bitch-slap swept the air. The blow was near and vicious enough to stir a breeze on her cheek. Crystal’s back banged into the wall and the trailer shook.

  “What’s going on in there?” Minerva yelled.

  “Nothing.” Crystal eyed Bone warily, but Bone’s anger had dissipated, along with much of her torso.

  “You banging with that boy?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Good riddance. Ain’t never had a man in here that I didn’t have to spend a week cleaning up after.”

  Crystal lowered her voice for Bone. “We need to tell her somebody broke through the other side. And she has a mess to clean up, after all.”

  Bone sniffed, tilting her head in dejection so that her hair spilled over her eyes.

  Great. Here we go with the waterworks again.

  “She already knows about Royce,” Bone said with a petulant whine.

  “He was harmless, more or less. I’m talking about the hitchhiker, the one who messed with Momma’s potions.”

  “Whoever it was, he’s gone now.”

  “Gone where, though?” She nodded where the black hole had been. “Back to Darkmeet?”

  “Jeez, you’re worse than them. Always pester pester pester. Question question question. Nose nose nose.”

  “Unlike you, I’ve got a future. And I kind of want it not to suck.”

  ”Well, why don’t you run to mommy like you always do?”

  “Because I’m not supposed to be up to necromancy yet. I’m still apprentice level. If she finds out I am consorting with the dead, I’m dead.”

  “She might ground you and you can’t go to your crummy job or the meeting with Miss McMarkus or
the big Halloween party. Sometimes I think you’re deader than I am.”

  “No fair.”

  “Whoever said life was fair?”

  Crystal glanced at the framed photograph on her dresser. In it, Crystal had her arm around the grinning Bonnie, two ninth-grade best friends whose biggest worries were whether their sneakers were out of fashion and whether Avril Lavigne was still cool.

  Things might have turned out differently if only I—

  But she couldn’t think about that. Bone’s death was an accident, an act of God, destiny signing its name in blood on a dirty, moonlit highway.

  Minerva interrupted by banging on the door again. “Open up.”

  “Freedom,” Bone whispered.

  “Just a sec,” Crystal hollered.

  Bone moved toward the door, reaching for the knob. Crystal rushed forward to push her back onto the bed, but her hands went right through Bone’s chest. Bone stopped and held her arms out to the side, palms open in supplication. “So I’m your dirty little secret, huh?”

  “Who’s in there?” Momma yelled.

  “It’s the iPod,” Crystal responded.

  “See ya,” Bone said as she climbed onto Crystal’s bed and paused at the Orifice. “I’m borrowing this red sweater. I got a hot date.”

  “Don’t get any slime on it when you crawl through.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Getting lucky isn’t as lucky as you think.”

  “Don’t be jealous.” Bone gave a fake sigh. “You have Pettigrew, right? He’s tall. And Royce is average. Very average. Blue eyes. Tight buns. Fruit-a-licious lips. A poet’s soul.”

  “Don’t rub it in. At least Pettigrew has a heartbeat.”

  “At least Royce likes me without having to be spelled into it.”

  Crystal climbed onto the bed, planning to tackle Bone, but her best friend went invisible. Crystal bounced around for a moment, checking the room. “Bone?”

  A giggle leaked from the area near her desk. Her computer keyboard clacked. By the time Crystal got there, the message had been tweeted from her account: “Met this hot movie director named Dempsey!!! #truluv.”

  “I’m going to kill you!” Crystal shouted.

  Momma banged on the door. “Don’t go killing nobody unless they need it.”

  Good thing Pettigrew doesn’t do computers. Still, word gets around.