I’D MEANDERED THROUGH the Grand Lake Market the first time, but today I was determined to march through with purpose—I had a mission, after all. And even if it wasn’t the mission I’d originally envisioned, I was still determined to accomplish it with gusto. I tried to mimic Aveda’s purposeful stride, my head held high, and not get distracted by shiny things. (I did spy a table of sparkly notebooks filled with graph paper—I’d need to backtrack and check it out later—but I’m proud to say I stayed strong and kept walking.)
“Be cool, Samuel,” I muttered to Sam, who was doing his best to keep up with my determined march. “Let me do the talking. You’re just here—”
“—because you don’t have a car?” Sam said, amused.
“And to soften Kathy up if she proves to be a tough customer,” I said. “Deploy your manly charms.”
“So I’m here to give you rides and be eye candy.” He cocked an eyebrow.
“I love that you catch on so fast,” I said, pretending to swoon. “Anyway, don’t you enjoy being eye candy? Isn’t that your whole thing?”
“I’m starting to doubt my abilities.” He pulled a mock broody face. “Given that someone didn’t respond to a certain text last night.”
“Maybe someone was busy,” I said, my face flushing.
“Too bad,” he said. “I was hoping for more pictures.”
“The one I sent didn’t sufficiently distract you?”
“Oh, it did. It distracted me all night long.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I couldn’t help it—I burst into giggles.
“Oh my god, you are so cheesy right now,” I said. “Dial it back, dude.”
“Always laughing at me,” he said, shaking his head. “So what were you doing before you texted me that picture?”
I shrugged and picked up my pace toward Kathy’s booth, trying to look nonchalant. “Taking a shower. And . . . thinking about some things.”
He matched my stride and leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear. “Did these things involve your detachable showerhead?”
“What! How do you know about—”
“You told me about it, Beatrice. When you first got it put in.”
Oh, right. My flush intensified. This was all so weird, us bouncing back and forth between our usual good-natured sniping and this more charged flirting. One moment he was Mr. Beaucoup Fromage, who I couldn’t imagine taking seriously about anything, the next I wanted to shove him into one of the secluded corners between Market booths and kiss his face off.
But the back and forth also made me feel amped up, excited. Maybe Leah was right—I lived for the in-the-moment thrill. Well, so what? He and I had an agreement, and for now, this was just too much fun. My favorite dragon-shifter lady would totally approve.
“I did make excellent use of my showerhead,” I said, arching an eyebrow at him. “Just indulging in a little harmless fantasizing.”
“Tell me about it.” His fingertips brushed the back of my neck, and I thrilled at that familiar coil of heat in my belly.
“You were in the shower, too—on your knees in front of me,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, like this was the kind of thing I thought about every day. “Your hands were on my hips, holding me in place. And you were—”
“—showing you how good I am with my tongue?”
I swallowed hard and fought like mad to keep my tone even. “Yes.”
“As it happens, I am very good at that.”
“Duly noted,” I said, and cursed my voice for coming out all thin and breathy. I cleared my throat, trying to get control. “But you know, I don’t know if we can actually be naked together. I might be too overcome with giggles, like I am whenever you go into Calendar Sam mode.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
We came to a stop in front of Kathy Kooper’s booth—and I did a double take.
“Where are the pretzels?” I blurted out. The giant pretzel booth was empty—no pretzel-preparing staff, no pretzel-heating equipment, no guy dressed as a giant pretzel yelling at passers-by. The sign screaming “GIANT PRETZELS” was still up, but that was about it.
“That’s weird,” Sam said. “It seemed so popular.”
“Bea!” Kathy called out, waving to me. “What are you doing on this side of the Bay? I thought you lived in the city.”
“I do,” I said, giving her a bright smile and moving toward her booth. “But I just . . .”
Hmm. I hadn’t really thought about my in with her. I’d spent all my prep time poring over Mom’s letters, trying to figure out what to ask Kathy.
“. . . had the day off!” I improvised.
“And it’s such a nice day,” Sam said, deploying his heartthrob smile. “I hope it’s been good for business?”
“Oh, indeed,” Kathy said, fluttering her lashes. “I’ve had a steady stream of customers since opening. You’ve caught me in a rare lull.”
“Evie and I wanted to thank you again for that box of Mom’s stuff,” I said, my brain clicking into gear. I silently blessed Sam’s heartthrob powers—they were actually coming in handy. “It turned out to be a bunch of letters to us, and it was very special. I was wondering . . .” I paused, trying to craft the exact right bend of the truth. “She mentioned you a lot,” I continued, deciding to start with something like the actual truth. “It sounded like you were visiting her quite a bit in the hospital?”
“Of course,” Kathy said, looking pensive. “She was my best friend.”
“I was so young,” I said. “I visited her, of course, but I wasn’t . . . around as much.”
“Your sister tried to protect you from the worst of it,” Kathy said, making a sympathetic clucking sound.
“I was wondering if you would mind sharing more from that time,” I said. “If you had any, like, memories you could recall for me. To make me feel like I was there.”
“Are you sure about that, dear?” Kathy said, reaching over to touch my arm. “I think that might be very difficult for you.”
“I want to know what she was going through,” I pressed. “From her letters, it sounds like things were really strange.”
“She knew she was dying, hon,” Kathy said, looking at me quizzically. “That definitely makes things strange for a person.”
Crap. I was striking out, here. I studied her, tried to pick up on some nuance that would give me a clue as to how to get her talking. I could try projecting, try something that would alter her mood . . . but I wanted to make sure what I was getting was total, unvarnished truth. I also wasn’t sure what was going on with this whole implanting specific thoughts thing, and I didn’t want to accidentally give her a thought that was going to muck things up.
Go to the Ferris wheel.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. There it was again, a random little voice in my head, a voice that was maybe Mom, maybe not. What did this one sound like? I tried to listen harder.
What? I thought back.
Go to the Ferris wheel.
I’m kind of in the middle of something important, here?
Go to the Ferris wheel. Now. Please.
It was the “please” that got me. If it was Mom, maybe she was about to let me in on the secret to saving her. Which, for whatever reason, existed right in the middle of a bunch of janky carnival rides.
I focused back in on Kathy. Luckily, Sam had engaged her in a detailed conversation about her artistic process while I’d been talking to myself. Or to the voices in my head. Or to my possibly not-so-dead mother.
What an interesting array of possibilities.
“I, uh, need to use the restroom,” I said.
“Okay,” Sam said, looking at me quizzically. “Shall we take off or—”
“No!” I said, way too loudly. “I’ll just be a sec. Don’t let me interrupt your conversation.”
I flashed him a quick smile that I hoped he knew meant Just keep her talking ’til I get back and took off toward the carnival section of the Market.
My eyes scanned the sky, the massive Ferris wheel looming in the distance. Weirdly, it didn’t seem to be in motion today. In fact, it looked totally empty. Abandoned. It was a perfectly still bit of punctuation in the sky, the lack of movement giving it an eerie quality. I shivered.
I reached the arched entrance to the carnival, guarded by a solitary dude sitting on a stool. He was scrolling through his phone and looked like he was about to fall asleep.
“Hey there,” I said. “One carnival admission, please.”
“Sorry, we’re closed today,” he said, not looking up from his phone. He made a vague gesture toward the entrance—which I now saw was blocked off by a chain and a sign that proclaimed its closed status.
“Closed?” I said. “Aren’t you guys open whenever the Market is? During the warmer months, that is?”
“Usually, but we’re having technical difficulties,” he said with a small shrug, like, “what can ya do?”
So that explained the unmoving Ferris wheel. Maybe if I just stared at it from here, that would be sufficient?
No! The voice was back in my head again, loud and insistent. You have to go to the Ferris wheel. Go to it. Now.
“Um,” I said out loud to the carnival attendant. “Is there any way I could pop in real quick to look at the rides? I’m a huge fan of, like, ride architecture. I’m kind of obsessed.” I made a goofy face, as if to insinuate that rides were my equivalent of boy bands. “I’m visiting from Oregon for just a few days and I came here specifically to see the rides. I’ve heard so much about them.”
“You have?” The guy looked up from his phone, his brow crinkling in confusion. “Our rides? Because they’re pretty much a bunch of rusty old junk.”
“That’s exactly why I’m such a fan!” I enthused. “They’re classics.” I gave him a hopeful smile and tried to widen my eyes in that extra innocent way so many guys are suckers for.
“Huh,” he said, looking mildly intrigued by the idea that something in his tiny corner of the world had fans. “I can’t do that, sorry. My crew’s coming by later to work on the rides, but in the meantime, it’s just too dangerous to let anyone in. Something might fall on you.”
I gritted my teeth. Really? The rides were having technical difficulties and might fall on me, and this was happening on the one day when I actually needed to get inside? Or maybe that’s why I needed to get inside? Maybe the technical difficulties were going to reveal something?
Go to the Ferris wheel, the voice said in my head.
Fuck, I’m working on it, I thought back.
I studied the guy. He was back to his phone, clearly hoping I’d give up. But I couldn’t. Because for some reason it was imperative I look at this damn Ferris wheel, all up close and personal.
I want to let you in, I thought at him.
He looked up, his eyes getting that blank look.
“I want to let you in,” he said.
“Oh, how nice!” I said, like it was a big fucking surprise.
I’m going to go get some food. At least twenty minutes away from here, I thought at him.
“I’m going to go get some food,” he said, sliding off his stool and pocketing his phone. “At least twenty minutes away from here.” He shook his head and made a face, as if clocking that that was a pretty weird thing to say out loud.
These aren’t the droids you’re looking for, I couldn’t resist adding.
“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,” he called over his shoulder as he wandered off.
I slipped under the chain blocking the entrance, taking care not to disturb the CLOSED sign. Whatever communing I had to do with the Ferris wheel was best done alone.
As I strolled through the empty carnival, the noise from the rest of the Market faded to a distant burble and I half expected to see tumbleweeds rolling past my feet. It was creepy to wander around this giant, festive space, so obviously set up for lots of people, when there were no other people around. The Ferris wheel loomed at the very outer edge of the carnival area, so I had to walk through the entire thing to get there. My skin crawled as I wended my way through the maze of rides and games and booths, the air thick with the scent of stale popcorn and cotton candy. The whole affair was pretty shabby. Ticket taker guy wasn’t wrong, it did look like a big ol’ pile of rusty junk. I walked by a games booth featuring one of those simple set-ups where you have to throw ping-pong balls at moving cups. The prizes were rows and rows of stuffed animals strapped by their necks to the back wall of the booth. The effect was ghoulish in the harsh light of day, and I felt like they were all staring at me, a mosaic of beady little eyes following me as I moved.
I passed by a classic carnival ride—I think it was called the Octopus or the Spider or . . . some kind of animal with a lot of appendages, clearly. It was painted a shiny black and had a bunch of curved metal “legs” attached to a central base. Each leg had a bucket-like car that held two passengers, and the whole contraption spun around and lit up and made those with weaker stomachs generally sick. I remembered convincing Evie to go on that ride when we were younger and how she’d nearly barfed over the side. I, of course, had loved it. But now it was all still and silent and almost as menacing as the beady-eyed stuffed animals.
Finally, I arrived at the Ferris wheel. I stared up at it, craning my neck, trying to take in every bit of it. Up close, it was a strange mix of stately and shabby—an old soldier, just trying to stay upright. But the utter stillness totally creeped me out.
“Okay,” I said out loud, feeling ridiculous. “I’m here. I made it to the Ferris wheel. What did you want to show me, pesky, mysterious voice that is possibly my mother?”
I stood there and stared. Seconds passed by. Then minutes. I started to get a cramp in my neck from staring up at the thing. But nothing happened.
I let out a long, gusty sigh.
“Feeling pretty awkward here!” I called out. “Can we get this going? Whatever this is supposed to be? Because otherwise, I’m outta here. I have to get back to the mission I was on, talking to Kathy Kooper.”
Nothing. No response. Just that eerie silence that made my skin crawl.
“Fine,” I said. “Thanks for the wild goose chase. I’m leaving.”
I turned on my heel, trying to be extra dramatic about it, and started back toward—
Get on the Ferris wheel.
I stopped in my tracks.
Excuse me? I thought back. I don’t know if you heard, but all the rides are having technical difficulties right now. It could be dangerous.
Get on the Ferris wheel.
The voice offered no further explanation, but there was a firmness to its tone this time. Like it wasn’t about to take any back talk from me.
I’d come this far, hadn’t I? Gone to the trouble of mind-mojo-ing the guy out front and left Sam to make endless small talk with Kathy about cat-hair knitting or whatever, right?
I strode over to the bottom car of the Ferris wheel. The rusty metal bar made an ominous creaking sound as I unlatched it and climbed inside. And then I just sat there, once again feeling vaguely ridiculous. Was the thing going to start up all by itself? Was I about to be trapped on top of a Ferris wheel with no way of getting off and no one around and no people within screaming distance? I’d had a fantasy in my tween years about getting trapped at the top of the Ferris wheel with whatever dorky, floppy-haired boy or mysterious gothy girl I’d been crushing on at the time. It had seemed devastatingly romantic. Now it seemed like a really stupid way to die.
But the Ferris wheel wasn’t starting. I was still just sitting, waiting for something to happen.
I slumped back in the seat, running my fingers along the multiple rips in the cheap vinyl lining of the car and wondered how long I should wait around before I declared this tangent to my mission a proper failure.
“This isn’t the weirdest situation I’ve been in the past few days,” I said out loud, “but it’s certainly the most—”
WHOOM
The blast of sound whooshed through my ears, making me gasp. It was just like the sound in the It’s Lit bathroom and was followed by the same sensation: falling and falling and falling, surrounded by a starless spacescape. I couldn’t see . . . couldn’t see . . .
SMACK
This time, I landed somewhere instead of being suspended in mid-air. I felt around—the surface I’d landed on was soft and cool and had a velvety texture. Just like the surface I’d reached out and touched earlier today at Pussy Queen.
I struggled to get to my feet, but attempting any kind of movement was slow going. The air was thicker, the gravity greater, weighing all of my limbs down. I managed to get myself upright, but I couldn’t stand up totally straight. I was sort of stooped over, like the atmosphere was pressing down on my back. I tried to move forward and only managed the tiniest of steps.
Where the fuck am I?
I tried to look around, but all I could see was blackness. The starless spacescape again, but now I could walk through it, sort of. And I realized if I squinted really hard, I could make out vague, shadowy shapes here and there, but I had no clue what they were.
Beatrice.
A voice echoed in my head. I squinted with all my might—was it one of these vague shapes? Were they talking to me? It didn’t sound like my mom . . .
Hello? I thought back. Who are you? Am I in the Otherworld? Really, any direct answers would be—
Don’t trust Kathy Kooper.
Okay, so that was a direct answer to a question I hadn’t actually asked.
“Why not?” I said out loud. My speech came out slow and watery, like it had been run through one of those distortion machines they use to disguise people’s voices on reality TV shows.
“She has done unspeakable things,” the voice said out loud, and I nearly jumped out of my skin—or I would have if I’d been able to move with any kind of ease. The voice was slow and distorted, like mine, but I could tell it was coming from somewhere on my right. With great effort, I turned in that direction. One of the shadowy shapes I’d made out earlier seemed to be coming into some kind of focus. Or I was delirious from being trapped in this freaky demon spacescape. You know, either/or.
“What kinds of things?” I said, trying to step toward the voice. It seemed like I was starting to move a little easier, but every motion I attempted still felt like pulling teeth. “Did she hurt my mom, somehow? Please, tell me the right questions to ask—”
“She banished me,” the voice spat out. “She is hateful. She . . . she . . .” The voice sputtered, trying to compose itself. I was starting to make out its form, which seemed to be coalescing before my eyes, the shadowy blob turning solid and person-shaped. The voice was also starting to sound more familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m gonna need more than that.” I realized that I had to raise my voice to be heard, that I was practically shouting. I shook my head, trying once again to find my bearings. There was a dull roar in my ears, like a plane trying to land. And getting closer and closer, louder and louder . . . “What’s that sound?”
“Our time is drawing short,” the shadowy figure said, nodding its blobby head sagely. “Don’t trust her. And ask her about . . .”
The figure trailed off and the roaring got louder, making me want to put my hands over my ears. I tried to lift my arms, but my body was still weighed down by the heavy atmosphere of this strange place.
The roaring was so loud it drowned out everything, and I couldn’t tell if the figure was still speaking, if I was missing some crucial piece of info. Frustration clawed at me, and I wanted to scream loud enough to drown out the overwhelming roar.
“What?” I yelled, desperation lacing through my voice. “Ask her about what?!”
“Pr . . . ellllsssss . . .” The shadowy figure was trying to yell over the roaring, but I still couldn’t hear them.
“What?!” The roaring sounded like we were right under a freakin’ plane now.
“PRETZELS!”
All of a sudden, the blobby figure came into focus, and I could see him clearly. It was none other than the guy in the big foam pretzel costume—the one Sam and I had seen on our last visit to the Market. He was still wearing that ridiculous costume, but now he looked haggard, distressed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was open wide as he screamed that last word at me. His costume looked raggedy and frayed around the edges, like he’d been wearing it for a while.
“What—” I started to say.
WHOOM
There was that gust of wind crashing through my head again, and now I could move way more easily. I clapped my hands over my ears, and then my eyes flew open and I was back in the stupid Ferris wheel seat, the rest of my question dancing on the tip of my tongue.
That loud roaring was still overwhelming me, forcing me to keep my hands over my ears. I looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint its source. But something was wrong. The carnival looked like it had a weird film over it, like . . . oh, holy shit. It was a foggy veil, like the one I’d experienced earlier at Pussy Queen. Was I between worlds again?
Wherever I was, that loud sound was more distinctive and layered here. It had a metallic aspect to it, like gears grinding against each other or a squeaky wheel that needed a major dose of oil. It also sounded like . . . crashing. No, stomping. Like a dinosaur or some other gargantuan monster was bulldozing its way through the abandoned carnival.
I slid under the metal bar, wriggled my way out of the Ferris wheel car, and jumped to the ground. I looked around frantically, my heart racing, adrenaline spiking my blood. The sound was definitely getting louder . . . closer . . . what the fuck . . .
CRASSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Through the veil, I saw the games booth—the one with the freaky rows of beady-eyed stuffed animals—go down, crumpling like a used up tissue. And then I saw . . . it. Rising out from behind the wreckage.
It was the ride from before—the Spider, the Octopus, whatever animal you wanted to call it—and it was crashing its way through the carnival, stomping things to the ground with its thick metal legs.
CRASSSSHHHHH CRASSSSHHHH BOOOOMMMMMM
A hot dog stand went down. Then a ticket booth. Then a kiddie ride with cars shaped like ladybugs.
I ran.
As if sensing my presence, the Spider turned and altered course, its metallic parts squeaking and creaking with the effort. And it started stomping and crashing and booming its way toward me.
Fuckfuckfuck
I tried to run faster, cursing my lack of athletic prowess and the fact that the fog-veil thing was impeding my ability to see very far. Occasionally, my hands brushed against something that felt like that odd velvety texture, but I barely registered that. My breath wheezed out in rapid gasps until I was practically hyperventilating, and my heart kept up its million-beats-a-minute pace. Sweat poured down my face, and I couldn’t summon up a single coherent thought. Just, Get out get out get out.
I risked a quick glance over my shoulder and then was sorry I had, because the thing was gaining on me. Its black paint gleamed malevolently in the late afternoon sun, and I felt my terror intensify, consuming me, every pore of my body emanating fear.
Goddammit, I wish Evie and Aveda were here. I wish . . . I wish . . .
Wait.
Wasn’t I the one who’d kicked ass at the Wave Organ? I had powers, too. I was strong, too.
I stopped in my tracks, whipped around, and let out the most ear-piercing scream I could muster. I had a fleeting moment of panic that it wouldn’t be loud at all since I’d expended so much breath on running, but it was loud enough to claw my throat raw, to make my ears ring. And yes, to shatter the giant Spider monster in front of me, which made one last heaving step and then crumbled to dust at my feet.
I fell to my knees, breathing hard, nearly face-planting on the ground. Tears of relief and shock streamed down my cheeks. Holy shit. Holy fuck. I’d just been chased by a gigantic mecha carnival ride. Evie and Aveda would be disappointed to hear they’d missed out on so much excitement.
I’m not sure how long I stayed in that position, sprawled out on the ground, trying to regain control of my breath. But when I finally looked up, I did a double take—the veil had cleared. It looked like I was back in the real world. There was no shiny black Spider detritus at my feet. No wrecked carnival in front of me. Everything was totally back to normal. I got to my feet slowly, and cautiously began to retrace my steps. The hot dog stand was back. Ditto the game booth with the creepy stuffed animals, who were back to staring at me with their creepy beady eyes. And the Spider? I turned around and saw it—back in its original spot. As if nothing had happened.
What. The. Hell.
Had everything I’d experienced after the Ferris wheel happened in that weird space between our world and the Otherworld? Was the carnival located in a spot where the walls were super thin? And if so, how had I managed to jump back to the real world myself, without any help from Scott’s spells?
I made my way back to the carnival entrance, trying to remain hyper-vigilant and aware of my surroundings. But it didn’t matter. The carnival was back to being its creepy, empty self. No mechas chasing me and destroying everything. I slipped under the chain at the entrance and saw the guy from before, who was back on his stool, scrolling through his phone.
“Hope you had fun, Miss!” he said, giving me a jovial smile.
“I guess that depends on your definition of fun,” I muttered. But he was back to being engrossed in his phone and didn’t hear me.
I stomped back toward Kathy’s booth, my head swirling with everything that had just happened. Where did I even begin to try to make sense of all of this? I only had one clue: Kathy. And I needed to treat her as more of a hostile witness, because if anything Pretzel Guy had said was true . . .
What had he said, exactly? I shook my head, replaying our conversation. She couldn’t be trusted. She’d banished him there.
Holy frakballs, Kathy, what have you been up to? And what does all of this have to do with Mom? What did you do to Mom?
I finally reached Kathy’s booth and saw Sam leaning against one of the tables displaying her wares, looking bored. Kathy was helping a customer, showing them one of her cat-hair creations. I felt a wild, irrational stab of anger. How dare this woman act like everything was totally freaking normal, going on and on about her dumb crafts and looking pleased as punch about it, while I was getting my ass chased through a creepy carnival by a giant Spider mecha?
“Bea!” Sam spotted me and stood up straight, looking relieved that we could finally leave. I stomped past him and elbowed my way into the space between Kathy and her customer.
“Beatrice,” Kathy said, looking appalled at my rudeness. “As you can see, I’m with a customer—”
“And they were just leaving,” I said, my voice flat. I snatched the cat-hair craft out of her hands and passed it to the customer. “Here, you can have this. On the house.”
“Excuse me,” Kathy said, eyes wide with indignation. “It certainly is not free, that one-of-a-kind creation is three hundred and—”
“Free,” I repeated loudly, grasping the customer by the shoulders and meeting their eyes.
I love it and I’m so grateful and I have to go now, I projected at them.
“Wow, I love it and I’m so grateful and I have to go now!” the customer sang out, waving and trotting off into the distance.
“I’m not sure what you think you’re doing,” Kathy said, her voice laced with quiet fury. “But—”
“Tell me,” I said, whipping back around and glaring at her. “What did you do to my mother? What did you do to the pretzel guy? Tell. Me.”
“Bea,” Sam said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shook him off.
“You’re going to tell me everything,” I hissed at Kathy. My voice was low and growly and full of so much rage, I almost didn’t recognize it. But I was practically shaking with anger now, I couldn’t believe this woman, this woman who claimed to be my mother’s best friend . . .
Anger pulsed through my veins like hot, molten lava—throbbing against my skin, like my whole body was about to explode. I couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent emotions beyond being totally fucking mad. I wasn’t completely aware of what I was doing, I just knew I wanted her to feel that, to understand the full force of my anger, so I picked out a tiny thread underneath: fear.
I gathered that up and projected it at her harder than I’d ever projected anything before. I blasted fear at her. I wanted her to go all remorseful and tell me everything. But even more than that, I wanted her to cower. To shrink from me. To fucking fear me.
I saw it hit, saw her eyes widen. She took a step back.
Yeah, that’s freaking right, lady.
“I . . . I . . .” she said, blinking rapidly.
“My mother,” I said. “The pretzel guy. What. Did. You. Do?”
She swallowed hard and took another step back, and I felt a vicious stab of triumph. This was it. I was going to get my mom back. And I was going to get revenge on whoever had trapped her in the Otherworld. Power thrummed through me, deep and dark and potent. Yes.
She swallowed again and something I couldn’t quite grasp flickered across her face. Then she drew herself up tall and her expression turned steely.
“You’re being very rude, Beatrice,” she said. “I think your mother would be extremely disappointed in you.”
My jaw dropped. What the frak. She was supposed to cower and go all meek and apologetic and tell me everything she knew.
“Bea, maybe we should go,” Sam said. I ignored him.
Okay, I was just going to have to try harder. I rolled my neck, gathered up all that fear, and pushed it at her with all my might. I waited for her to step back again, for the fear to take hold.
Instead she moved closer, until we were practically nose to nose. “Stop that, Beatrice.”
Before I could even register that, I felt something shove against my mind. Hard. It was like the feeling I was projecting was being thrown back at me.
What . . .
Did Kathy . . . could she do what I did? Did she have my power? Was she secretly an evil being from the Otherworld?
Well, whatever was happening, I needed to kick her ass . . . brain. Ass-brain? Brain-ass? “You stop it,” I growled, mentally shoving the fear back in her direction. “And tell me what you did to the fucking pretzel guy.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she said, giving me a sweet-as-pie smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “He simply couldn’t handle the competition—”
“That’s so odd. Because it seemed like he was doing bang-up business, while you’re barely selling any of these ass-ugly cat-hair crafts—”
“Whatever something seems like isn’t always the reality,” she said, sounding out each syllable.
“What? That doesn’t even make sense!” I pushed the fear at her hard—and felt that responding shove against my mind again.
Okay, seriously. What the fuck.
I shoved back with all my mental might—and then we were simultaneously pushing each other, our minds deadlocked, trying to find purchase. I redoubled my efforts. I wasn’t about to back down.
I’d never had to fight back against someone else trying to emotionally project at me. Sweat beaded my brow, and a red haze descended over my vision. Everything was going fuzzy around the edges, like the world had narrowed and now only consisted of me, Kathy Kooper, and our mental stand-off. A high-pitched whine echoed through my ears and I winced. Everything hurt.
I was vaguely aware of the sound of glass shattering somewhere to my right, and I hazily wondered if it was the sound of my brain breaking apart. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my ear, though it sounded like he was so far away, trying to yell at me through a tunnel.
“Bea!” he shouted. “Bea.”
I turned to the right and saw a row of Kathy’s glass vases exploding in quick succession: BAM, BAM, BAM!
I heard screaming and saw people running, and then I saw that other things were breaking apart, too: the abandoned pretzel stand was crashing to the ground, the woman with the bootleg t-shirt business was scrambling away from her collapsing stall.
“We need to get out of here,” Sam said, shaking my shoulder.
“No,” I said, my voice raw and hoarse. “No, we can’t—” I whipped back around and saw Kathy Kooper running in the opposite direction. She looked over her shoulder and gave me a mean smile.
“We’ll meet again, Beatrice,” she yelled. “Count on it.”
I gathered up whatever shreds of emotion I still had—I didn’t even know what they were anymore, they were messy and fragmented—and threw them at her as hard as I could.
I felt that responding mental shove, and it hurt so bad, I gasped. Everything went fuzzy around the edges again, and the red haze descended over my vision again and it was all too much and I felt myself falling and falling and falling, Sam screaming my name. And then everything went black.