|| 16 ||

“DOES THAT MEAN HARRIET is going to try to take me and Mason, too?” Ang’s voice wavered on the verge of tears.

“I wish I knew,” I said. I rubbed my temples with the tips of my fingers. Now that the excitement had faded, a worry headache bloomed behind my eyes.

Sophie straightened. “We need to do something. A plan.”

I glanced at Mason, hoping he’d pull something brilliant out of the air.

He ran his fingers through his wavy hair. “For starters, we need to keep an eye on each other. Check in. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Yeah, if any of you need a ride somewhere, just call me. Usually, I can get my mom’s car,” Ang said.

“Ugh, this sucks,” I groaned. “I don’t want you guys to be worried and paranoid. I’ll try to come up with something, I promise.”

We made a schedule for checking in with each other and letting everyone know where we’d be and when. Sophie protested, saying she didn’t want to have to answer to the rest of us, but she couldn’t come up with a better idea.

Unease churned through me as my friends went their separate ways. I dead-bolted the front door behind them.

* * *

I spent the rest of the week constantly looking over my shoulder, wary of the possibility of another attack by Harriet. Before I fell asleep each night, I formed the image of the white pyxis bottle in my mind and shared it through our link. Mason said he was sure that if that image got disturbed, he’d notice. We figured if Harriet tried to influence me, the white bottle would disappear from my mind, and then—we hoped—that would alert Mason. We couldn’t figure out an alert for Harriet influencing him or one of the Guardians. But we banked on the fact that I could save them from Harriet’s influence, while they couldn’t save me. And I couldn’t count on Zane being there if it happened again.

I reported the whole Sophie and Harriet incident on the website. On Thursday, Ione came through with a bit more false Pyxis history. She posted on the message board:

My aunt says a false Pyxis usually has to hibernate for a time between attacks. Not only is she not as strong as the true Pyxis, it takes a lot more out of her when she uses the influences. She thinks a couple of us working together may be able to contain her, but it isn’t clear to me yet how we’d do that. More soon . . .

Well, that wasn’t exactly a breakthrough.

We had another drill session at the cove on Saturday. I shuttled Mason, Mr. Sykes, and Aunt Dorothy in my great-aunt’s old Buick. I looked up at the overcast sky as we crunched down the dirt road toward the beach, hoping the threat of rain in the air would hold off ‘til the afternoon.

The beach was quiet and the picnic tables deserted. I set my bag on one of the tables and pulled out my phone. It was a quarter after nine. Ang was supposed to meet us here with Sophie, and it wasn’t like Ang to be late. A ripple of unease passed through me as I wondered for a moment if Harriet had reemerged and found one or both of the Guardians. I tuned into the background chatter of the two Guardians’ in my head, but didn’t detect anything amiss.

Ang? Everything okay with you?

I’m fine. I can’t find Sophie, though. She’s not home, not answering her phone. And she’s not responding to me through our link. I’m pretty sure she’s okay, but I don’t know how to find her. I don’t know what else to do. I’m almost at the cove.

I frowned and relayed Ang’s message to the others, and they watched me expectantly for further news. I wasn’t worried yet. I could feel Sophie’s presence through our link, and as far as I could tell, she was relatively okay.

My phone chimed and I saw Sophie’s name on the caller ID.

“Are you all right?” I said by way of greeting. I wasn’t going to get irritated about her tardiness until I made sure she was unharmed.

“Corinne, I’m stuck in Danton,” she said.

“Danton? You knew about the drill. What are you doing that’s so important?”

“I know, but I’m um . . . just busy with something and I can’t get away.”

“So you’re saying you’re not going to make it?” I didn’t bother masking my accusation.

“I don’t know. I’ll get there when I can.”

“Fine,” I said, and hung up on her.

Ang pulled up and jumped out of the car, and my phone rang again. My mom.

“Hi, what’s up?” I said.

“It’s Bradley. He’s sick.” She sounded worried, but not panicked. It didn’t stop my heart from taking off at a gallop as the vision of Brad in the hospital bed, black fog puffing from his mouth, burst unwanted into my mind. My stomach began to weave itself into a knot, and I pushed the image away.

“What’s wrong with him?” My fingers tightening around my phone, I met Aunt Dorothy’s eyes.

“He’s got a fever, and his stomach hurts. I’m taking him to the clinic to make sure it’s not his appendix. I think it’s probably just an ordinary bug, but I’m going to take him in to be sure.”

“Okay,” I said. “Keep me posted and tell Brad I hope he’s feeling better soon. If he wants anything from the café, text me, and I’ll pick it up.” My brother and I weren’t as close as we used to be, but since his illness, I’d always been ready to jump in to take care of him, even if he just had a cold.

I told the others that Sophie was in Danton and didn’t know when she’d get here. We waited a half hour for her to show up, and finally Aunt Dorothy decided we should get started without her.

I frowned at my great-aunt. “How can we do a drill without Sophie?”

“Angeline can try casting a net using the one that blankets the meadow.” She tilted her head and considered the meadow for a moment, then turned to Ang. “Find an edge that Sophie created, and begin your weave there. Sophie’s edge will anchor your net. It is nowhere near as strong as one created by the two of you, and this is not a technique you should ever use in a non-drill situation, but I think it will do for now.”

I had no idea how Ang could cast a net by herself, but she didn’t seem to think it would cause her any problems.

Aunt Dorothy gave me, Mason, and Ang each a drop of the neon green liquid, and lit a flame beneath the grooved piece of wood. We all took our positions around the meadow. Mason and I stood, side by side, facing the forest. Adrenaline coursed through me as I tried to imagine what nightmare this drill would unleash.

I searched the trees for telltale tendrils of fog, and sniffed the air for the spoiled, burnt smell. A few moments passed and nothing emerged or changed.

“You think something went wrong with the drill?” I asked Mason.

“I don’t know.” He kept his eyes on the forest, and his voice was wary. Then he tensed. “Who the heck is that?”

I followed his gaze and watched as a guy around our age wove his way through the low brush, working his way toward us.

“Hello?” I called, and took a step forward. I looked over my shoulder at Mason. “Does he look familiar?”

“Corinne—”

Mason’s warning came too late. I watched as the stranger raised his hand, and a flash of cool blue lightening streaked through the air, too fast for my eyes to follow. Before I could even turn my head, Mason cried out and collapsed.

“Mason!” I crouched over him as he writhed in agony.

Don’t touch me! he said. Whatever that was, it sucked everything out of me. Watch him!

My frantic gaze met the stranger’s, who hadn’t moved from the edge of the meadow. I hesitated, torn between trying to restore Mason’s power and searching for a way to disarm the guy.

I’m rolling the net into a tube and aiming it at him, Ang said. Her energy was tense, but admirably calm.

In a flash, the gossamer net coiled over itself. It wasn’t the perfect funnel the Guardians had created together last time, but it was all we had to work with. I gathered influences, with no time to try to attenuate a blend with any precision, and let them fly down the center of the coiled net.

Nothing happened. Who was this intruder? Instead of trying more influences, I reached out and began to search the stranger’s mind. Within seconds, I realized that no mind existed within this human-looking form. I pressed my awareness into a mass as black as the fog. In fact, I was pretty sure the guy was somehow made of fog. I reached deeper, searching for the core as I had before.

Just as I located the pulsating, putrid center, another zap of blue lightening raced past me. But this time, it targeted Ang. Panicked, I gathered influences in full force and hurled them at the core of the fog within the stranger, praying it was enough.

I whipped my head around to see if Ang was okay, and watched as she stumbled backward several steps, half turned, and nearly regained her balance before tripping over a tree root and smacking her head against the base of a Ponderosa pine. She crumpled into an unmoving heap.

“Angeline!” I screamed and raced toward her. I rolled her over so I could see her face. An angry red scrape marred one cheekbone, and her eyelids were half closed, her eyes rolled back in her head. I brushed blonde strands of hair from her forehead. “Angeline? Can you hear me?”

Aunt Dorothy knelt beside me and folded a handful of blooms into my best friend’s limp hand, holding it in a fist, and a few seconds later, Ang’s eyelids fluttered open.

“Poor thing.” Aunt Dorothy tsked. “Going to have a bit of a headache.”

Worry swelled my throat with the pressure of tears, and I pulled Ang to me as she tried to sit up. I sat on the ground next to her and slipped my arm around her shoulders.

“Ang?” I whispered. “Can you hear me?”

She grunted, and her head bobbed forward. I gave Aunt Dorothy a silent, pleading look as tears overflowed my eyelids and spilled down my face.

Mason joined us, concern lining his face. “I followed the guy across the meadow but lost him in the trees. Is Angeline going to be okay?”

“Give her a moment,” my great-aunt said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“What happened?” Ang mumbled. She rested her temple against my shoulder.

“You fell and hit your head.” I tried to keep my voice from wavering, but I was so relieved to hear her speak, a fresh wave of tears filled my eyes.

“Yeah, really hurts.”

“I think from now on, we must make sure to have both Guardians present for our drills,” Aunt Dorothy said, her eyelids lowered.

Good. I didn’t want to take any chances like this again. I wanted to push her for more of an explanation about the drill, because that wasn’t really an answer, but anger at Sophie flared through me. She’d promised to come to our drills and to show up in every way that we needed her to, and she’d already failed us. Ang would probably be okay right now if Sophie hadn’t bailed.

When Ang assured us she was steady enough to stand up, we all trudged toward one of the picnic tables on the beach. She stumbled once, and Mason scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way. In my concern over her, I’d completely forgotten to check on him, but he looked unharmed by the attack.

So what did that guy do to you, anyway? I asked. Mason and I sat next to Ang.

Mason ran a hand through his wavy hair. I don’t know, but it felt like when the old fridge in the garage came ungrounded and I grabbed the metal handle. Not painful, exactly, but very unpleasant. Like paralysis.

Huh, I wonder if there are people or things out there that could actually do that to you, or if it was just something for the drill?

Not sure, but I want to find out, too. It was awful, lying there powerless to help you. His hand brushed the small of my back, and I leaned into him for a moment.

Then I remembered Sophie. I dug my phone from my purse and called her, but she didn’t answer. No response when I reached out through our link, either. My irritation mounted, and even Aunt Dorothy realized it was best to call it quits for the day.

I made Mason ride with Ang because I didn’t want her taking her mom’s car alone, and I told them to meet me at Aunt Dorothy’s. I parked the Buick in the garage, and moments later, Ang pulled into the driveway. She took me and Mason back to my house.

In my room, I built a nest of blankets and pillows for Ang on the bed, and brought her some juice and Advil. She looked much better, and even the scrape on her face had faded. Aunt Dorothy had tucked a couple handfuls of healing flowers into my pockets to give Ang later, so I pulled some out and made her hold them while she rested.

I paced around my room, straightening my desk and putting away clothes, my irritation mounting.

“I can’t believe she stood us up,” I seethed. “How is this ever going to work?”

“Want me to talk to her?” Ang asked.

“Sure, if you think you can make a dent in her stupid, stubborn brain,” I said.

My phone chimed, and I dug it out of my bag and answered.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. “How’s Brad doing?”

“Not so well.” Her voice held all the fear and sadness I’d been dreading ever since my brother went into remission, and my heart began a slow, sickening descent in my chest. “I’m taking him to the hospital in Danton.”

I could barely focus on her words as she explained the tests he needed, the conversations with the doctor at the clinic. I could think of nothing but the image of my brother lying helpless in a stark room, putrid black fog leaking from his mouth as he begged me for help.

Now I understood what the vision meant. Some unseen evil had escaped into Tapestry and sought out my brother. And I knew what medical tests hadn’t yet confirmed: his cancer had returned.