Eleven

The Second Heist

There were times that Fin wished she had a cell phone.

But cell phones didn’t work in Aldermere. Supposedly, a company once tried to install a cell tower nearby, but residents fought so hard against it that the company backed off and never tried again. There were entire swaths of wilderness along Highway 101 without service, and if a person’s car broke down, the best they could hope for was to trek to one of the emergency lines set up for such purposes.

Most of the time, Fin didn’t care. Cell phones seemed like more trouble than they were worth; her classmates were always complaining of lost phones or broken screens.

But right now she yearned for a way to call Eddie, to tell him what was going on. She wanted backup.

Her feet pounded the pavement as she ran, cool night air rushing past. Her breath sawed painfully, every gasp tasting of adrenaline.

She ran down Main Street, cutting through the gap between two houses. The forest’s long shadows ushered in the night, and darkness tended to fall quickly, even when the overhead sky still held streaks of orange and pink. A raven cried out—perhaps greeting the night or startled by Fin. Fin ignored the bird and ran even faster, ducking down a side street and finally arriving at the big house. The windows glowed a comforting orange, and if she took the time, she knew she could see Eddie and Aunt Myrtle dining at their table.

Fin slowed to a jog, her breaths still coming hard.

She crept around the side of the big house, keeping out of sight. She didn’t want Aunt Myrtle to see her, to ask questions.

Sure enough, light spilled through one of the cottage windows.

She hurried to the front door, reaching for the doorknob. Unlocked—which could mean that Mom had simply forgotten to lock it, or that whatever had broken in could pick a lock. She pushed the door open slowly, trying to keep silent. Someone could still be in there. She half expected to see the amorphous tea monster.

But the cottage was empty; she could see into her mom’s room. There was no intruder, no monster, nothing at all.

Except the lights were on. Fin knew she hadn’t left them that way. She often double-checked to make sure her keys were in her pocket, that her notebook was in her backpack, and that she hadn’t left anything dangerous plugged in.

Fin scrambled up the wooden ladder to her room. Her bed was always a little messy—she didn’t see the point in making it when she’d mess it up the next night. She hurried to the windowsill.

There was no key. She stood there, gaping at the empty spot where it should have rested.

Fin’s mouth moved silently, but she couldn’t make a sound.

Talia had entrusted her with that key, and Fin had lost it. No—worse than that. She’d allowed it to be stolen.

Again she thought of creeping tendrils, slick with old Ceylon leaves, and that formless, shapeless thing that had crawled out of the sink. She thought of the tea leaves it had left behind, the brown and soggy bits scattered in the grass.

What if it needed more tea to sustain itself?

It might have gone to the source.

Fin sat on her bed, frozen with indecision, for nearly a full minute. Her immediate instinct was to crawl beneath her covers and pretend that this had nothing to do with her. If she could pretend hard enough, maybe it would be true. She didn’t want to get in trouble; she wanted it all to go away, to leave her in peace.

Be brave, she thought. Be brave.

The town council meeting would go on for probably another hour. She had that much time.

Fin took one breath, then another, and another. Maybe it was the magic still in her veins, or sheer determination, but she felt steadier. She left the cottage, locking the door behind her, and jogged across the yard. Through the window, she saw that Eddie was helping Aunt Myrtle put away the dishes. She couldn’t ask him for help, not without alerting her aunt.

Fin was on her own.

She hurried past the big house. Eddie’s lacrosse stick was propped up against the front porch, and Fin veered to her left to grab it. Night had fallen like a heavy blanket across Aldermere, pushed back at corners by a few automatic porch lights. Some flickered on as Fin took off down the street. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she hastened toward the tea shop.

When she rounded a corner and saw it, her heart gave an unsteady thump. The shop was dark, the windows opaque. Fin didn’t bother going to the front door—someone might see her. And she suspected that most monsters wouldn’t walk in the front door. Fin crept slowly through the overgrown ferns toward the back of the shop.

The door was half open.

“Oh,” she heard herself say. Her voice was quiet, thin with alarm. Her hands gripped the lacrosse stick so hard that her knuckles ached.

She stood there for a heartbeat, unsure what to do. She couldn’t call for an adult to handle this—if she did, she’d have to tell them what she’d done. And if Aunt Myrtle or Mom found out, they’d send her to that counselor for sure.

Something in the open doorway moved. Fin staggered backward.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when the door swung fully open. Perhaps a larger version of the creature that had slunk out of the sink—all slick tendrils and seeking limbs.

But then the creature stepped out of the tea shop. And in the dim illumination of a neighbor’s porch light, Fin saw the girl.

The girl who looked like Fin.

Sandy brown hair, freckles all across her face, eyebrows that were slightly uneven—one crooked upward. Her chin had the same stubborn jut, and her hair fell across her shoulders.

The only difference was in her eyes. Fin had dark brown eyes; this girl’s eyes were silver. Not blue or gray but silver. Silver like metal. Silver like—

The girl’s eyes glittered like those tea balls that Talia kept behind the counter.

As Fin watched, the girl pushed her hair back over one shoulder. A few strands fell, catching the dim light. As they fluttered through the air, those strands of fallen hair changed from wispy and dry to dark and soggy.

Damp tea leaves spattered to the ground.

This girl who looked like Fin was made of tea.

“You’re too late,” said the girl.