Spellweaver Page 9

  What would his sister think of that?

  Had Kull found Heidel? If so, did she want to return with him? Kull seemed confident that she would, though I wasn’t so sure. Heidel wasn’t as loyal to her family as Kull believed. Even if Heidel did come back, I doubted she’d be the same person Kull remembered.

  The traffic picked up as I neared Houston and followed the road signs to the university exit. The campus, I noted on arrival, looked like the typical college gathering place. Three-story, beige-colored buildings crowded around a sea of parking spaces. Short trees and shrubbery attempted to soften the concrete jungle’s urban feel.

  I found the dorms and parked my car, taking my laptop case with me in case I needed it, although I doubted it would do much good. Then, I strapped on my backpack and made my way through the maze of buildings.

  Hoary gray clouds hovered low in the sky, and I wrapped my scarf tighter as I found the right room. The gold numbers 629 tacked to the front of the door rattled as I knocked.

  After the third round of knocking, I started to turn away, when the door opened. A girl with dark, puffy eyes stood at the entry. Mascara stains trailed down her cheeks, and her kinky hair was pulled into a ponytail, though pieces of it stuck up around her ears. Despite her demure appearance, she stood at least six feet tall.

  “Are you Dr. Kennedy?” she asked in a weak voice.

  “I am. And you must be Miranda Hawkins?”

  She gave a quick nod.

  “May I come in?”

  She rubbed her nose with a wadded tissue. “Sure,” she said before ushering me inside.

  Her dorm room was the typical model of efficiency. A living space and two bedrooms. Posters of famous basketball stars covered the walls. There were no statuettes or fantasy figurines. College textbooks were stacked on a small desk in the corner, but I didn’t spot a single fantasy novel among the collection.

  I wasn’t sure why I was here.

  Through one of the bedroom doors, I noticed discarded clothes and basketballs cluttering the floor. Miranda quickly pulled the bedroom door shut and ushered me to a tatty, cloth-covered couch situated under the room’s only window. I sat as Miranda pulled an office chair away from her desk and positioned herself across from me. She attempted a smile as she blotted her eyes with the tissue.

  “Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a rough morning.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did Dr. Hill tell you why I was coming?”

  She nodded. “He said you’re a non-traditional therapist—that you help people with missing memories.”

  I supposed that was close enough to the truth. “Do you feel like you have missing memories?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, not really.” She let out a soft laugh. “But I do feel like I’m going bat-crap crazy.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Bat-crap crazy?”

  “Everyone thinks it. They don’t say it, but I know they think it. I would think it, too, if it were someone else. I’m the only person who remembers him.”

  “Remembers who?”

  “His name was Zeke. He was my—well… I guess we weren’t really official. But we were friends. Close friends, you know. Even though I’d only known him for two weeks. We liked a lot of the same stuff. Basketball, mostly. He played at the courtyard outside. That’s where I first met him.”

  “What did he look like?”

  My phone rang before she gave her answer.

  “Sorry,” I said and pulled it out of my bag. Brent’s ringtone. “White and Nerdy” by Weird Al Yankovic blared through the room. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I silenced the phone and stuffed it back in my pack. “Go ahead,” I told her with a forced smile as I cursed Brent under my breath.

  She gave me a look but then continued. “Sure. Zeke was tall. Really dark skin and bleached white hair. Kinda strange. But he had the most amazing smile. His whole face lit up.” She stifled a sob. “And now no one else believes he ever existed. I’ve talked to the cops, to all my friends. It’s like he just disappeared or something, and I’m the only person who remembers him.” She shook her head. “I’ll understand if you think I’m crazy.”

  Miranda’s description of Zeke piqued my interest, especially the part about everyone having missing memories. I sensed the work of goblins. “Believe me,” I said. “I’ve been around crazy, and you’re definitely not.”

  She gave me a tiny smile. “Thank you.”

  “Can you tell me more about Zeke? Did he live on campus?”

  “I don’t know. I never went to his dorm or anything. I assumed he was a student, but there isn’t any record of him.” She sighed. “I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought.”

  “But you spent time with him?”

  “Yeah. He finally came to one of my games. I sort of had to convince him. It seemed like he was scared of crowds—what’s the name for it?”

  “Agoraphobia?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Can you tell me about when he went missing?”

  She shuddered. I could see the fear in her eyes and hear it in the wavering tone of her voice.

  “I invited him to go to the beach with me. I thought it would be a good idea since all we ever did was hang around campus. He didn’t want to at first, but finally he said he would.” She paused. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have made him go. It’s my fault.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m sure you never intended for anything bad to happen.”

  She let out a lengthy sigh, keeping the tissue pressed to her nose. “I just wanted to hang out, have a good time. I feel like all I ever do is study and play basketball. And he seemed so sincere, not like the other guys around here.”

  “Miranda, what happened at the beach?”

  “Well, he was acting kind of nervous. Like, anytime someone would talk to us or walk near us, he would get anxious. I thought it was just his agoraphobia. That night, we went to that seafood restaurant out over the harbor. We hadn’t even gotten our table yet when he said he had to leave. I didn’t understand why. He said he needed to take care of something. Then he left. When he didn’t come back, I went out to look for him.”

  “I bet you were pretty upset.”

  She nodded. “Mostly I was scared for him. I started to think about the people we saw down on the beach. I guess it should’ve seemed weird that two guys were wearing black capes on the beach, but they were having that festival down on the Strand, where everyone dresses up in Victorian costumes.”

  “Dickens on the Strand?” Every December, the island honored Mr. Dickens by going all out and turning the place into a Victorian winter wonderland. Dressing in period clothing was encouraged, so seeing men in capes wouldn’t have come as a surprise. Unless, of course, they happened to be strolling on the beach, not anywhere close to the festivities.

  “Yeah, that’s the one. I assumed those guys were just part of the festival.”

  “But why were they on the beach?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered.

  Honestly, I’d seen weirder people in Galveston. But I didn’t think it was a coincidence that Chester had also been attacked by Geth’s men—who also happened to wear capes.

  “Do you think they might have had something to do with Zeke’s disappearance?” I asked.

  “I’m almost sure of it,” she answered. “When I went down to the docks, I saw those same two guys out on the pier. I heard a scream, too, but I’m not sure who it came from. It could have been one of those guys. It could’ve been Zeke.” She stiffened. “I also saw a light. It was odd, like a gray mist that glowed. It was a clear night, not a hint of fog anywhere. I guess it could’ve been smoke or something.”

  “But smoke doesn’t glow.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  My mind went into overdrive. I would bet my next paycheck that Zeke was Mochazon. Earth magic would have changed his appearance—it was an understood law of nature. I wasn’t sure of the exact scientific laws, but each world liked
things ordered in its own categories. Pixies weren’t a species Earth recognized, so the magic would’ve given him a more humanlike appearance. While it wouldn’t have changed him drastically, I suspected the wings, at least, would’ve been erased once he crossed.

  I wondered if the same principles applied to the Everbloom. The blossom was filled with Faythander magic, and glowing flowers weren’t something that naturally occurred on Earth. Could the blossom have transformed also? If so, what did it look like now?

  For whatever reason, Faythander magic didn’t react the same way. It seemed more tolerant of Earth’s objects, perhaps because most species in Faythander relied on magic the same way they needed oxygen, and the appearance of a strange object—say, a paper plate—could have easily been ruled out as an object transformed by magic.

  I pondered the other aspect of Miranda’s story. The guys in capes were no doubt Geth’s men. If they had captured Zeke, then things were worse than I’d feared. None of this was good news. “Is there anything else?” I asked her. “Any other details you can remember? Even something insignificant could help.”

  She stared through the open window behind me, though her gaze seemed unfocused. “He did say something to me right before he left. He said he’d never met anyone like me, and that he was protecting me by leaving. He also said he was looking for someone he needed to help, but he wasn’t sure where to find her.” She stared at her hands. “It hurt a little bit because I thought maybe he meant a girlfriend. I don’t know.”

  “Did he give you any clue as to where he was going?”

  She shook her head.

  “Miranda, did he have anything that he kept with him all the time? A necklace or watch or some sort of jewelry that seemed unusual?”

  She seemed to think for a minute. “No. Not that I remember.”

  “Can you remember anything else?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “After I heard that scream and smoke I told you about, I ran out to the pier and saw something moving in the water. At first, I thought it might have been Zeke. I almost jumped in the water after him, but I talked myself out of it. What if it had just been a fish? So I decided to call the cops instead. They organized a search and everything, but they didn’t find him. After they found out that he had no records on file, no birth certificate or anything, they called it off.”

  “Do you think it was Zeke in the water?”

  “I don’t know. The pier’s lights must’ve gone out or something because it was really dark. I can’t say for sure.”

  “Miranda, what pier were you on?”

  She looked me in the eyes. “Pier thirteen.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Do you believe me?” Miranda asked.

  She spoke in a casual manner, but I saw the desperation in her eyes. Outside her dorm, a shaft of sunlight pierced through the clouds, creating a dappled pattern over the worn carpet.

  “Yes, I believe you,” I answered.

  She sighed, sounding relieved. “Then you’re the first.”

  “To be fair, I’ve had some experience with strange happenings.”

  “And you believe Zeke really exists? I mean—I didn’t make him up. I know I didn’t.”

  “Miranda, what would you think if I told you that Zeke comes from an alternate reality—a fairy world?”

  She leaned back. “Yeah, that would be pretty strange.”

  “It’s more real than you think. I believe that Zeke may be a man I’m looking for. His real name is Mochazon, and he comes from a world called Faythander.”

  “Faythander?”

  “It’s an alternate reality, a magic-fueled version of Earth.”

  She rubbed her neck. The tables had turned, and now it was her turn to believe my story. “Is that why his eyes were… you know… yellow?”

  I nodded. “It’s also why he didn’t like crowds. There are some bad people looking for him. I’m sure he wanted to stay as secluded as possible.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “And I’m the one who made him go out.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You didn’t know.”

  “What happens now? Can you find Zeke for me?”

  I hesitated. If Zeke had been kidnapped by Geth’s men, I knew Miranda wouldn’t like my answer. But there was a slim chance he’d escaped. “I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, I need you to stay safe. Keep your doors locked. Don’t go out unless you have to. Make sure to stay in crowds where lots of people would notice if you got abducted.”

  “Abducted?”

  “The men who took Zeke are looking for something he has. There’s a good chance they may believe he gave it to you.”

  “What was it?”

  “A magical flower.”

  She grew very still.

  “He didn’t give it to you, did he?”

  She shook her head.

  “He never gave you anything?”

  “No.”

  “Miranda, are you absolutely sure? He never gave you anything?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, I’m positive.”

  I wasn’t completely sure I believed her, but twisting her arm about it would only make her distrust me. She would tell me the truth when she was ready. Picking up my pack, I decided to pay a visit to pier thirteen.

  “You have to go?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes, but I’ll stay in touch. Call me if you remember anything else. And if Zeke tries to contact you, I need to know.”

  “Okay.” She ushered me to the door. “Thank you,” she said before I stepped outside, “for believing me.”

  “It’s what I do.” I gave her a brief smile before I made my way outside and down the stairs.

  The faint scent of marijuana lingered in the air. Typical college campus, I thought as I made my way across the parking lot to my car. Despite the sunshine, the air remained chilly. Wind stung my cheeks as I unlocked the door and climbed inside the Thunderbird.

  In case Miranda needed to contact me, I switched my cell’s ringer back on. Scanning my phone’s screen, I saw that Brent had tried to call me twice. Ugh. No way was I talking to him. I replaced the phone in my pocket and shifted gears. He had some nerve calling me.

  I drove off the campus and followed the road signs to the highway. Mid-morning sunlight streamed through my windows as I merged onto I-45. Houston’s city skyline loomed in the distance, sleek skyscrapers against a hazy sky. Turning away from the city, I took the exit for Galveston. The drive home gave me time to ponder my conversation with Miranda.

  Was it my imagination that she’d seemed uncertain when I’d asked her if Mochazon had given her anything? It seemed risky for him to give her the flower, but perhaps he’d thought it would be safer with her?

  I had no idea what the flower would look like in this reality. Earth magic sometimes had a sense of humor. What would be a magical orb in Faythander could turn out to be a giant gobstopper on Earth. I tried to recall if I had seen anything unusual in Miranda’s dorm, but nothing came to mind.

  My phone rang, blaring “White and Nerdy” through the car. I let the voicemail pick up. My phone beeped as he left a message. Great. Couldn’t the guy take a hint?

  As I crossed the causeway to Galveston Island, a text came through. Even when we were dating he hadn’t contacted me this much. Brent’s insistence nagged at me. I made it across the causeway when the phone rang for the fourth time. Was he stalking me?

  The traffic bottlenecked at a stoplight as the phone continued rapping. Finally, I answered.

  “Brent,” I said before he could answer, “you can’t call me anymore. We’re not a couple—”

  “Olive, listen to me.”

  “No! You’ve got to stop calling me.”

  “Even if it’s about your mom? I went by her house this morning.”

  I paused. “My mom?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, I tried calling her, but she wouldn’t answer, so I finally went over there.”

  “What’s the matter? Is she sick?”

/>   “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure? Is there something wrong with her or not?”

  “She’s depressed, Olive. She’s really torn up about something, but she won’t talk about it. I’ve never seen her like that before. To be honest, I’m a little scared. I thought you should know. Anyway, you’re right. I won’t call you anymore. I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you. I promise to leave you alone from now on.” He hung up.

  My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. My worst fear had come true. Would I have to do the spellcasting? If I didn’t, her depression would only get worse. Although we’d never seen eye to eye, she was my mother. I couldn’t let her suffer.

  For the next few minutes, I tried dialing Mom, but she never answered, so I reluctantly replaced the phone in my pocket. I’d almost made it to the docks. There was a slim chance I could restore the magic and avoid the spellcasting… maybe if I actually found Mochazon and the flower, my mother’s erased memories would stay forgotten.

  A group of pelicans sailed along the bridge as I turned off 53rd and onto Harborside Drive. The Gulf waters shimmered in the distance as I drove toward Galveston’s port. Freighter ships stacked with cargo waited along the docks. Cranes rose into the air, carrying metal containers ready to be loaded onto the ships. The clang of machinery came from the docks. Down the road, the wide smokestack of a cruise ship rose into the air. I spotted a parking space near the pier and parked my car.

  A stiff sea breeze caught my hair as I exited my car and walked toward the fence separating the parking area from the docks. Rust clung to the metal chain links. A few yards away, I found an opened gate and made my way to the piers.

  Blue reflective signs marked each pier. Some piers were used for shipping, others for fishing or boat docks. Far ahead, a row of restaurants took up the rest of the space. Pier thirteen sat a short distance from the parking area. As I walked toward it, I passed a couple of men in hardhats, but they mostly ignored me. The stiff breeze smelled of fish, and I tasted salt on my tongue.