“My sister was here in an altercation with three men, and you complain and threaten to call the landlord and don’t offer to help or at least call the police in case my sister is in trouble?” I was flabbergasted.
“I mind my own business,” the guy said, putting his hands up in the air.
What. An. Asshole.
“You’re a fucking tool,” I told him. “Maybe you should get some blackout shades instead of putting sheer curtains on a window overlooking a driveway.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” he replied and slammed his door.
Moron.
I have a spare key for Ivy’s, so I went inside, and the kitchen was a mess. There was a plant and table toppled, a pile of mail scattered, too, and a really unusual cologne-like scent in the air.
My body broke out in goosebumps, and I immediately dialed Ivy’s number. No answer.
I text-messaged my mother.
“Did Ivy come to your place?”
My mom phoned me instead of replying. “She’s not here. Why? Why?” Mom sounded panicked.
“I just got to her place and she’s not here. There’s a mess and her upstairs neighbor said something about three big guys being here and there being some sort of commotion.”
“Oh God. Oh God. Did you call her?”
“No answer.”
“Oh Jesus! I’m coming over. Wait there.”
Mom came over and while we cleaned up the mess in Ivy’s and Tamara’s place, Mom told me what she said she’d told my sister that morning while I was at the supermarket. That she thinks Aunt Nelle set some strange supernatural shit in motion and she doesn’t know what sort of crap is going on but thinks my sister got stolen by either a vampire or maybe a shapeshifter who wants to keep her.
Shapeshifters? Vampires?
My mom is not crazy and despite how batshit crazy that sounded, she seemed like she was totally serious. Like she believes every word she’s said to me. I’m not sure what the fuck is happening but all I know is that I need to find my sister.
Mom made me go home with her and spend the night. I called the cops from her place, and they were no help. I couldn’t rest. I was just freaking out. At dawn, I snuck out, deciding to drive to Drowsy Hollow to see what I can find out. Ivy still isn’t answering her phone. I left before Mom got up because she was just hysterical until the wee hours when she finally conked out on the couch telling me that Aunt Nelle had plans for all of us, Mom included, and how crazy it is that this all happened right after she and Dad split up.
I know how nuts people think Aunt Nelle was. I also know she wasn’t nuts. Not at all. She saw things in her life. Wild things. We had our secret chats and she told me stuff I’ve never repeated to a soul. She never told me, though, that she’d done some crazy thing with a fortune teller.
“I pulled my sister’s letter and all the cryptic stuff she said lines up with your dad and I splitting up too.”
“God, Mom, you think you’re about to be whisked away by a were bear?” I laughed.
My mom’s face went stone serious. “You didn’t grow up where I did, Amie, hearing the stories, talking to people who said they saw things. Did you see how purple your sister’s eyes were?”
The eye thing was definitely very freaky.
She gave me Aunt Nelle’s letter and I read it.
And then I made Mom crack open the bottle of vodka in the freezer and read it a second time.
I tried to call the cops but after calling off the search last time when they’d begun putting resources into looking for Ivy they suggested, grouchily I might add, that we wait until Ivy’s been gone 24 hours to see if she isn’t just off on another adventure.
No, I didn’t mention anything about supernatural stuff or witches or my aunt who’s been dead a year. I tried to reason with them that my sister was keeping something from us about why she went missing last time and that I thought maybe they should go interview her upstairs neighbor about what he told me.
They told me they still wanted me to wait 24 hours.
I was pissed and went up the food chain two levels and got nowhere.
So, since I don’t want to wait until tonight to make another report and it’s been six hours since I had a drink and I definitely didn’t get drunk, I’ve thrown my overnight bag into my SUV, armed myself with bear mace from the garage (Dad hasn’t cleaned his stuff out yet), and headed the three-hour drive to Drowsy Hollow to find Tyson Savage and see what the fuck is going on.
***
“Come in and sit down. I’ll call somebody to talk to you,” the lady at the gas station says.