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  I glance into the back where my bag is resting on the seat. I want so badly to reach back there and pick it up, to take it into the store with me, but Adrianna catches me staring at it, and so I quickly look away and give her a smile.

  I head into the gas station, my anxiety growing stronger the further away I move from that bag. I wait in line to pay for the gas, tapping my foot against the floor impatiently as the kid ahead of me tries to buy cigarettes without an I.D. He jokes around with the girl running the register, flirts with her and tries to get her to sell him a pack of Marlboro Reds. She flirts back, and I clear my throat loudly, until they both turn around and give me a dirty look.

  “Sorry,” she tells him reluctantly. “But I really can’t.”

  He glares at me as he pushes past, like I’m the reason he’s not going to be able to get his nicotine fix.

  I slide the twenty-dollar bill across the counter and tell the girl to ring it up for pump number three. She takes the money wordlessly, and I turn around and head back outside, not bothering to wait for a receipt. My mouth is dry, and I wish I had brought some money with me so that I could buy some gum.

  When I get back to the car, Adrianna’s already back behind the wheel.

  It’s only when I open the passenger side door that I realize there’s something going on. Adrianna’s giggling.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask, sliding into the passenger seat. I’m happy that she’s happy and not freaking out anymore. But a second later, I look over, and my heart sinks.

  Adrianna’s turned on the iPad.

  “Who is this?” she giggles, showing me the screen.

  It’s the inside of the jail cell where Samara is, the tiny, sparse little room that always appears whenever I turn on the power.

  “What are you doing?” I say, trying to take the iPad from her. But Adrianna holds it out of my reach.

  “Unh-uh,” she says. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. Is this like a Skype chat or something?”

  Samara is stretched out on the small cot in the corner, sleeping. Her chest rises and falls with deep breaths, and I thank God she hasn’t talked to Adrianna yet.

  “It’s nothing,” I say. I don’t reach for the iPad again, hoping that if I show disinterest, she’ll let it go.

  But she doesn’t. “Hello?” she yells toward the image on the screen. Adrianna moves her fingers over the tablet, trying to pull up the keyboard. “Hello, who are you?”

  Samara sits up in bed. “Who is that?” she yells, looking around. Her hair is wild, her voice gritty from sleep. “Natalia, is that you?”

  “No, it’s not Natalia,” Adrianna giggles. “It’s Adrianna.”

  Samara comes over until she’s right in front of the camera.

  “Who are you?” Samara asks.

  “Who are you?” Adrianna asks back. But now her tone is faltering a little as she begins to realize that this isn’t just some stupid Skype conversation. This is something stranger than that, something that she might not want to get involved in.

  “It’s no one,” I say, moving to take the iPad out of her hands. “Adrianna, please give it to me.” But she puts her hand out, silencing me, and continues to hold the tablet out of my reach.

  “That’s not nice, Natalia,” Samara cackles on the screen. “To say that I’m nobody.” She puffs out her bottom lip. It’s dry and cracked, and I resist the urge to look away. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to respect your elders?”

  “Who is this lady?” Adrianna asks. She looks at me, her eyes darkening.

  “Natalia?”

  “I told you, she’s no one.” This time, I reach over and rip the iPad out of her hands.

  Adrianna’s mouth drops open, I guess because she’s shocked that I would do something like that. Which is kind of funny. I mean, if she knew the things I’d been doing lately, she’d realize that taking something out of someone’s hands is nothing.

  “I’m not no one,” Samara says. She seems to think it’s hilarious. She’s laughing hard, her cackle echoing through the car.

  Fear passes over Adrianna’s face like a cloud. She looks like she’s just walked into a horror movie. Which I suppose in a way she has.

  I think about rolling down the window and smashing the iPad against the pavement. I imagine the glass shattering into smithereens, the shards scattering across the concrete. If it wasn’t important that I give it back to Brody, I wouldn’t hesitate.

  Instead, I go to shut it off. But the screen doesn’t go dark. Instead, it glows brighter. I hit the button again, holding it harder and longer this time, but still nothing happens.

  Samara keeps laughing. “Oh, Natalia,” she says. “You have no idea, do you?”

  I ignore her, knowing she wants to bait me, knowing she wants to draw me into some kind of confrontation. But it’s not going to work. I’m done with this, done with them. If Samara won’t let me turn the iPad off, that’s fine. I’ll keep the stupid thing on until I get to Brody’s house.

  “What the hell is she talking about?” Adrianna asks. “Natalia, what is going on?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “I’ll explain it all to you later.”

  “She’ll explain it all to you later, Adrianna,” Samara parrots. “Of course, she won’t tell you the whole story.” She cocks her head and bites her lip, her top teeth digging into the flesh so hard it turns bright red. “And you probably wouldn’t want to know anyway. It would only put you in danger.”

  From behind us, there’s the sound of a horn honking. I turn around in my seat to see a bearded man in a beat-up pickup truck waiting for his turn at the pump.

  “Let’s just go to Brody’s,” I say to Adrianna. “Please, can we just go to Brody’s?” My voice is pleading, almost bordering on a whine. Get it together.

  Adrianna’s looking at me with fear in her eyes. I try again to turn off the iPad, but it doesn’t work.

  “Why can’t you turn it off?” Adrianna whispers.

  “It must be broken,” I lie. “Adrianna, please, can we please just go?”

  The truck behind us honks again, and this time, the man sticks his head out the window and yells at us to move it along.

  Adrianna takes a deep breath, then puts the car into drive. But she doesn’t take me to Brody’s. Instead, she pulls into an empty spot on the side of the parking lot, over by a rusty payphone.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

  “Yes!” Samara shouts from the iPad. “Tell her, tell her what’s going on!” She laughs.

  “Shut up!” I yell at Samara. “Go away! No one wants you here!”

  I expect her to laugh again, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just looks at me and shakes her head sadly. “Oh, Natalia,” she says. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

  “I understand that you better stop,” I say. “You’re scaring Adrianna, and she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  Samara shakes her head. “It’s not up to you, Natalia,” she says. “You can’t just decide when things are over. That’s not how it works.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I say. “Well, tell that to Raine. I have her necklace. It’s over.”

  Next to me, Adrianna is gripping the armrest between us so hard her knuckles are turning white.

  “It’s not over, Natalia,” Samara says. She pushes her red hair back from her face.

  Her eyes are bloodshot. “It’s not your decision when it will be over.” A black butterfly flies around the room and then lands on her hand.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper. “You’re just an old woman sitting in a jail cell somewhere.”

  “Is that what you really think?” she asks softly. She’s not looking at me anymore.

  Her gaze is in the butterfly, which is now sitting on the tip of her finger. With her other hand, she begins to stroke its wings. It sends a shutter of revulsion through me, and I look away.

  “Is it?” she presses. “Is
that what you really think, Natalia?”

  “Of course it’s what I really think!” I yell. “If I don’t want to play anymore, I’m not going to play.”

  Samara doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps stroking the wings of her butterfly. I look at Adrianna. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, terror on her face.

  “It’s not your decision, Natalia,” Samara says. “You can’t stop fate.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a crazy old lady in a jail cell,” I say, as if repeating the words will make them true.

  The butterfly flies up and into the air. “I’m not just some crazy old lady,” Samara says, sounding almost sad. My heart is beating fast, pumping blood through my body so hard I can feel it whooshing in my head. I feel a panic attack coming on, my body’s way of anticipating whatever crazy thing it is she’s about to say.

  But when she finally says it, it’s something I never could have imagined.

  “Natalia,” Samara says, drawing out my name. A smile plays on her lips, letting me know she’s savoring the look on my face, going for the maximum amount of surprise as she drops the bombshell she’s about to drop. “I’m Raine’s mom.”

  Chapter Three

  Campbell

  An hour later, I’m in the police station, sitting in a small room with a little table and two chairs, no windows to the outside. The walls have what looks like gray shag carpet on them. It’s probably some kind of soundproof material. I wonder what goes on in here that they need soundproof walls and a tiny shudder runs through my body.

  When the door to the room opens, a short older man with gray, shaggy hair comes in. He’s a cop—a new person I haven’t met--but he looks mostly harmless. His badge is on his hip and he’s wearing brown slacks and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Campbell?” he asks in a friendly tone of voice.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Detective Longo,” he says and we shake hands.

  He sits down in the other chair and places a can of Coke down in front of me.

  “Figured you might be thirsty,” he says with a slight smile. His dark eyes are watching my every reaction.

  “Thanks.” I open the can and take a fast gulp.

  “We’ve got your friend Aidan in another room and we’ll be talking with him as well.” Officer Longo has a notepad and pen out now. “I was running your information through the system and noticed you recently were involved in a stolen car incident in Maine.”

  My stomach does a double twisting flip and I struggle not to look terrified.

  Which is ridiculous, since I’m not guilty of anything. I have nothing to be afraid of.

  “That was all cleared up,” I say, but my voice sounds hoarse.

  “Was it?” His eyebrows raise.

  “It was a big misunderstanding. Me and my girlfriend went away to Maine and her car got stolen.”

  “And then apparently her mother wanted the police there to press charges against you for kidnapping and assault.”

  “I was never charged with anything.”

  Detective Longo smiles again. “I know that, Campbell. But I spoke with the two officers who worked on the case and they mentioned that the girl’s mother was fairly upset and seemed convinced you’d assaulted and possibly even …excuse me for putting it this way—raped—her daughter.”

  I feel like I’m going to be sick. My forehead is suddenly slick with sweat. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  The detective shrugs. “I don’t know. Right about now I’m not sure what to think.

  You and your friend come into the police station with a pretty crazy story about a dead girl. He’s got blood on his hands. You say you convinced him to come in and tell us what happened. But when I go and run your name through the system I come back with this stuff in Maine. Now what would you think if you were in my position, Campbell?”

  “I’d probably think it was a fishy story.”

  He grins. “So it’s not just me then. You can see that none of this really adds up.”

  I shake my head. “I swear I have nothing to do with the situation,” I say, after a long silence.

  “Where were you last night?” the detective asks. “Were you ever at this person Lancaster’s house? Were you at this party that your friend Aidan went to?”

  “I was. Just for a little while and then I left.”

  The cop nods. “Just a little while.”

  “Yes. The cops—I mean the police—they came and broke it up. I took Aidan to the hospital because he’d been in a fight. You can check with them, they’ll have a record of it.”

  Detective Longo is writing quickly in his notepad. “Busy night for you boys. A party, a fight, a trip to the hospital, and then later on a girl ends up murdered.”

  “I don’t know anything about the last part except what Aidan told me. I wasn’t there when Becca died. I was home sleeping.”

  “Okay. Anyone able to verify your whereabouts at the time in question? Anyone talk to you or see you come home?”

  “It was late. My mom was in bed. I don’t know who would have seen me come home after I dropped Aidan off. Maybe a neighbor?”

  The cop looks less than enthusiastic. “Maybe.”

  “Listen, why would we come in here voluntarily and then lie to you guys?”

  “I don’t know. But the story doesn’t add up. There’s something else going on here.” He sighs and then stands. “You sit tight. I’ll be back in a few.”

  The detective leaves the room and I’m alone again, waiting. Sitting. I wrack my brain for some way to prove that I wasn’t there when Aidan killed Becca. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible for me to come up with an alibi. What’s worse, it looks like I was with Aidan the whole night. So it makes sense that I would have been with him when he went back to Lancaster’s.

  I put my head in my hands and rub my eyes. I can’t believe how my life has been turned upside down since Natalia started school at Santa Anna. Before she arrived, my life was nothing but football and parties and girls and school. I thought I had problems back then, but it turns out those problems were nothing compared to what’s happening now.

  If I could somehow go back in time and make it so that I never met Natalia, never got involved in anything to do with witches—would I make that trade?

  No. I wouldn’t trade knowing Natalia, having the time we had together, for anything. I love her. I’ll never regret it, even if it’s made my life infinitely more complicated.

  When the door opens again, I expect them to tell me I’m under arrest.

  Detective Longo and another cop are standing there. But they don’t come inside.

  “You ready to take a ride, Campbell?”

  ***

  Aidan and I are sitting together in the back of the police car while Detective Longo and his sidekick sit in front. They’ve been watching us like hawks.

  “You sure you left her body out in the woods?” the detective asks as we drive out of the station’s parking lot. “Because some officers searched the woods a little while ago and they came back with nothing.”

  Aidan and I exchange glances.

  “Maybe one of her friends moved the body?” I ask, instantly regretting it.

  “Or maybe you moved it, Campbell.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  The detective shrugs.

  We drive the rest of the way in silence. When we arrive at Lancaster’s house, the cops pull the car over and the four of us get out. “Can you bring us to the location?” the officer asks.

  Aidan nods.

  So with Aidan in the lead, the four of us head into the woods. In the daytime you’d think it would feel less creepy. But it doesn’t. I’m getting flashbacks to my time at the witches compound, remembering less than pleasant memories of being chased and hunted by Raine’s clan and also by Reed’s people.

  I promise myself that after this, I’m never going to set foot in the woods again for the rest of my life. I don’t care i
f it’s to go camping with my dad or even just to take a leak on a road trip. I won’t so much as touch a pinecone.

  As we trudge through the forest, muted sunlight shines down through the canopy of trees overhead. My skin’s broken into gooseflesh again. It’s like there’s a presence here, a dark presence, and everyone can feel it. I can see that Detective Longo and the other officer feel it, too. They keep giving each other weird looks.

  “We’re almost there,” Aidan says eventually. “Just over this little hill. I remember that big rock right there.” He points to an enormous rock with graffiti sprayed all over it. Stuff Lancaster and his buddies do when they party back here. There are plenty of empties around to show who’s responsible for the mess.

  We top the small rise and then the four of us look down at the slope of woods.

  Nobody says a word for a long moment.

  Aidan finally speaks. “She’s gone.”

  The cops glare at us. “Who moved her?”

  “I told you, I have nothing to do with this,” I say. Now, for the first time, I’m feeling angry. Why do they keep insisting I’m in on it?

  “Get back to the car,” Detective Longo says. His face is red and his mouth is tight with anger.

  We go back to the car and speed off. The police don’t bother telling us where we’re going.

  Aidan’s face is ashy and pale. I’m sure I don’t look much better. The car is flying down street after street, turning one way and then the next. Detective Longo is on the phone to someone, asking about a street name and number.

  Finally we turn onto Easton Road, a tiny cul de sac that’s not very far from the high school. The car slows down.

  When it pulls to a stop, Detective Longo turns and looks at us. “You two morons sit tight in the car. We’re going to speak to Becca’s parents. Don’t so much as breathe while we’re in there. Got it?”

  “Yes sir,” Aidan squeaks.

  I nod.

  The cops get out and slam the doors shut. We sit and watch as they approach the house.

  “You think Teri and Raine moved her body?” I ask Aidan.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re sure you killed her? Maybe you just hurt her really bad.”