“No,” Blaine Whelan says. “As we talk, night falls. You must all be off to your homes. Just be wary in the dark. Soon it will be time to run.”
Time to run? What does that mean? And dark outside already? How can he tell? In here, the gloom is only pierced by the glowing sigils on the walls.
Morgaine smiles one last smile and opens the door back into the front part of the shop. Someone different is working at the cash register. She looks really familiar, and it takes me a moment to figure out why. It’s Carolina, and she’s reading this graphic novel—at least I think that’s what it is. But when I look at it out of the corner of my eye, it seems to change and look more like the black book I have in my hands.
Except that when I look down at my black book, now it looks like a graphic novel, too. But when I look at it out of the corner of my
eye, it’s the black book again. A SHAPESHIFTER’S ELEMENTARY GRIMOIRE: Of interest to the young werewolf and other shapeshifters of all kinds.
What’s going on? It must be some kind of protective spell to keep unfriendly eyes from seeing that we have magic books. But that’s not everything; where else did I see something like this? A book that shimmered as I looked at it from the side? Piper. In his office. What is an assistant principal doing with a magic book?
Then Carolina smiles at me, and suddenly everything else fades away. There is just Carolina and the forest.
I am lost and running, forever, with her.
Chapter 23: BACK TO REALITY
Jonathan elbows me, hard, in the ribs.
“What?” I say, confused.
“Dude,” Jonathan says. “The girl is talking to you.”
“Who? What, you mean Carolina?” I ask, blinking.
Enrique snorts.
Jonathan nods. “She just asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry?” I say, looking at her again. Her emerald eyes are huge, and they speak to me of the wild. But I try to focus on her lips instead.
“It’s okay,” she says, smiling. “I was just asking if you found everything you were looking for. But seeing what you’ve got there in your hands, you probably have what you need to start.”
I nod. “Really, I think we have plenty to keep ourselves busy.”
“Look,” she says. “If you need any help, call me.”
“But I don’t have your number,” I say, feeling stupid.
She takes a pen and writes seven digits on a post-it. “Here. You can have my cell. It’s a prepaid my dad bought me when we moved here from Salem.”
Her fingers brush my hand as she gives me the paper. Her fingers are warm, hot even. I pull out my cell phone and add a contact: “Carolina, 737-9872.”
We are almost to the door, when she calls out again. “Hey, it’s nasty outside. Take these plastic bags.”
She hands them to us, and Enrique’s Ouija board and our grimoire go into the bags.
“Thanks,” I say. “That was really...nice of you.”
My face feels hot now. What is wrong with me?
“No problem, Stanley. And hey, call me anytime. My parents and I are horrible insomniacs. Real creatures of the night.”
“Will do,” I say, waving like an idiot.
“See you tomorrow,” Carolina says, and then we’re out the door, into the rain.
How come we couldn’t see or hear the storm inside the door? Even looking at the door gives me the creeps. The silver sigils move as I look at them, or is that the water running down the door? Lightning flashes, but I still can’t see through the windows or the glass door. Enrique and Jonathan huddle next to me, Enrique holding the Ouija board flat to his chest.