Chapter Nineteen

I woke the next morning and, for a split second, I forgot Dad was gone. Then it hit, and an icy cold took over the warm confusion.

Serge was on the computer, Ebony on his lap. “Craig is downstairs making breakfast. Nancy went to the station, and Nell’s walking Buddha.” He didn’t bother asking how I was doing, and I appreciated that.

“I found out some stuff.” He turned away from the device. “The cops already questioned Principal Larry, Mrs. Sinclair, and Mrs. Pierson. Especially Mrs. Pierson. She’d left forty messages at Hank’s work. Some of them about Rori’s funeral and headstone, some of them rambling incoherence. A few of them were angry. I don’t think there’s much to it, neither did your dad.”

“If he’d told me, I could’ve—”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” he said. “Your dad was military. If anyone could take care of himself, it was him.”

“Until it wasn’t.”

“We should search his room,” said Serge. “There has to be something of your mom’s in there. He couldn’t have destroyed everything connected to her.” He stood and stretched. “I asked Nancy, but Hank never gave her your mom’s name, either.”

“Obviously, the army was great for training him to keep his mouth shut.”

“Go have a shower. We’ll have breakfast, then we’ll tear apart your dad’s space.” He smiled but he looked as sick as I felt.

“Can you hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I’m scared I’m going to space out in the shower and—”

His grin was a pale imitation of itself. “Hubba hubba.”

“You’re not coming in the bathroom with me. Just wait outside. If you hear any sudden thumps, get help.” I headed into the shower, intending to be quick. But there was something about the drone of the water, the heat and steam, that left me incapable of leaving the tub. It was as though if I stepped out, Dad’s death would be permanent.

I tried to remind myself of what Nell said, that I was lucky because once I found the soul-eater, Dad would be freed. And we’d be a family, again. But the soul-eater went after a certain kind of spirit. Common sense said Dad had been taken because the thing was out of control.

A small part of me wondered about the secrets Dad hid. His military background. The calls from Mrs. Pierson, Mrs. Sinclair, and the other townspeople. What else had been going on that I didn’t know about?

And even when Dad was freed, I didn’t trust Hera and the powers on the other side to leave my dad on this plane of existence. But my biggest fear was me. My emotions were all over the place, leaving me vulnerable to the serengti and terrified that I wouldn’t find Dad’s killer.

The knock boomed on the bathroom door and jerked me out of my reverie.

“Mags,” Nell called. “Do I need to come in?” There was a brief silence, then, “Serge is hoping you don’t answer and I have to go in there and effect a soapy rescue. I’m not sure if I want to support or shut down his fevered dreams.”

“I’m okay. I’ll be out soon.” After I got dressed, Serge caught me up on what he’d found out when he’d crossed the police barricades and gone to Dad’s crime scene. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep hope alive.

“Homemade donuts,” Craig said as we came into the kitchen. He stood over a pan of frying dough. Golden rings of pastry lined a silver tray that sat next to him.

“Homemade donuts.” Serge’s eyes went wide. “Craig, turn me solid—” His skin blanched. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Me too,” he said and lifted his hand. “Managed to give myself a serious burn from the oil.”

“How have you not inhaled everything on the tray?” I asked Nell as I sat down.

“The sauce isn’t ready,” she said.

“Sauce?” asked Serge.

“Simmer the blueberries first, then add honey. When it’s shiny and jam-like, we pour it over the donuts, then drizzle Greek yogurt on top.”

“No kidding.” Serge peered into the pot.

Not that I wasn’t loving the domestic calm, but grief rippled under my skin. Maybe anger. Whatever it was, I had to clamp down the urge to scream at everyone. I kept my mouth shut and let their conversation wash over me.

Craig plated the food and brought it over. “Eat.”

“I’m not—”

“I know,” he said. “But you have to. Especially you.”

I took one, but it tasted like paper and sawdust. I put down my donut.

Craig caught the gesture and smiled. “Well, it was worth a try.” He dusted the crumbs off his hands. “Nancy said she told the school you’ll be out of commission for a while.”

I nodded.

“My dad did the same thing for me,” said Nell. “I’m yours till we solve this.”

“Nancy also told them you’d stop by to pick up your homework for the week,” said Craig.

“What do I care about homework?”

“You don’t,” he said. “But she thought it was a good cover in case you wanted to check out the principal for any supernatural clues.”

Great thought, except my supernatural talents were failing me.

“Do you want to go right now?” asked Nell. “I can drive.”

“Maybe later.” I wiped my hands on my jeans. “The sooner we look through Dad’s stuff, the faster we can get on track with his killer.”

Nell shovelled the donut and sauce in her mouth, and stood.

They followed me to Dad’s door, where my strength suddenly failed, and I seemed incapable of lifting my hand to grip the handle.

Craig put his hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to open it?”

I shook my head.

“I can go through it,” said Serge. “And check the room.”

“No, I’m just being stupid—”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am,” I said. “The sooner we free Dad, the sooner he and I are Team Johnson again.” Screw the fears about the future, and screw the worries about his secrets. When I freed him, we’d have a long talk about all of it. I gripped the doorknob and twisted.

The door swung open, and the room yawned before me. Greys and blues, the clean lines of his furniture. A hoodie he’d tossed on the bed, the sleeve lying on top of Nancy’s flannel pajamas.

“We can do this,” said Craig. “You don’t have to—”

“I do it for strangers,” I said. “I’m doing it for my dad.” I stepped through. “Let’s divide this up. Craig, you and Nell check the drawers. Serge and I will check for hidden areas.”

We broke, each moving to the corners of the room.

“I wonder if your dad had any secret compartment spaces,” said Serge.

“Mr. Johnson?” asked Nell. “That guy was chill. He wouldn’t have secrets.”

I stared at her.

“Okay, so he had one or two.”

“Everyone has secrets,” said Craig. “Go through the walls, Serge, and tell me what you see.”

Going on my toes, I tapped at the drywall, listened, then dropped my hand and rapped again. The process was slow, the rhythmic knocking hypnotic.

Halfway down the length of the room, I hit a hollow section. More knocking revealed the area to be about a square foot. I turned, looking for Serge, but he must have been in a wall. If he could do it, maybe so could I. Not go through a solid surface, but since I seemed to possess the ability to travel in time, maybe I also possessed x-ray abilities.

I took a breath to steady myself, closed my mind to grief and anger, then concentrated. Imagined the layers of wall flattening, stretching. Visualized my gaze—“Oh, crap!” I jumped back as the wall caught on fire.

Whipping around, I yanked the nearest piece of clothing and smacked at the flames until I snuffed it out.

“You have to be careful when you’re channelling your energy,” said Craig, taking the shirt from me. “Or else you can set things on fire.”

I shot him a dirty look.

“What?” he asked mildly. “I’m mortal. I’m allowed to say the blatantly obvious. It’s probably the only time I’ll ever be allowed to do it.”

“Do you have any relevant pieces of advice?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”

It was a good thing he’d taken the shirt because I was tempted to wrap it around his neck. I stared at the charred smudges on the wall.

“What?” he asked.

“I was thinking I’d give anything to have Dad storm in here and yell about the cost of fixing this.”

“Leave it,” said Craig. “He’ll be back soon, yelling.”

“I don’t know. My powers are all messed up. There’ve been consequences to the things I’ve done. I’ve got this crazy serengti shadowing me—”

He took my hand. “Slow down, Mags, and breathe. Yeah, everything’s messed up. Everything’s always messed up. That’s life.”

“Your mortal pep talks suck.”

“I’m doing the best with what I’ve got.”

Serge emerged from the wall. “So far, nothing.” He frowned at the soot stains. “Was that always there?”

“Do you think this is weird?” Nell was on all fours, peering under the bed.

“I’m not sure what the question is,” said Serge, staring at her backend. “But I agree with anything you say.”

“Focus,” I said.

“I am focused,” said Nell.

“Not you, Serge.”

“What did he say?” she asked.

“Serge is back?” Craig pulled out his phone.

“Don’t repeat what you said,” I told Serge. “We don’t have time for your hormones.”

“Oh,” said Nell. “I don’t know what you said Serge, but thanks.”

“What’s weird under the bed?” I asked.

“There’s a rug,” she said. “It’s the only thing here.”

“I’m not the decorating type,” said Serge. “Why is this weird?”

“Because you don’t need a rug under there,” I told him. “Craig, help me move this.” I took a position at the headboard.

“Hold on She-Hulk,” said Nell. She wriggled under the bed. A few seconds later, she pushed the rug into view. “Look familiar?”

“No,” I said. “Should it?”

“Not really,” Nell said. “I’m just making conversation to cover my panic. There’s far less room under the bed than you’d think, especially given the small, amazing package that’s me.”

“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” said Craig.

“Until this moment, I didn’t know either,” she said. “Hold on.”

I frowned, trying to orient to the sounds coming from under the mattress.

“Tell her I’m coming in,” said Serge. “I can stick my head under the boards and see.”

I relayed his message as he waded through the mattress, then sank from view.

“Mags, you need to see this,” Serge said just as Nell said, “Oh holy crap. Maggie, you need to see this.”