Undead Girl Gang(73)
I roll my head back to Izzy.
“Mom told you?” My voice is as raspy as Riley’s. My tongue tastes like smoke and blood.
She sucks her lips in and nods. Her eyes are damp. I wonder how long she’s been watching me sleep, getting more and more scared instead of waking me up. Nora has never been afraid to wake any of us up if she needs the slightest thing—water, a snack, attention—but Izzy bears everything like it doesn’t touch her. She tries so hard not to be a typical middle child that she reaps almost none of the benefits of it either.
“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” I tell her. “I know that a lot of people have been dying, but that’s not going to happen to me. Not like that.”
A tear splashes onto the tip of her nose. “You aren’t wearing your rubber band.”
I glance down at my bare wrist. “It broke yesterday. I’ll put a new one on today. Wearing it was a good idea. It’s been helping a lot.”
She sniffles and nods. “I knew it would be.”
“So humble.”
She takes two big lungfuls of air, and more tears fall down her face. “I’m sorry Xander died,” she whispers.
I’m not, I think.
Skin crawling, I can feel the phantom weight of the dagger in my hand, the squish as it moved through his body and into the wall behind him. I didn’t kill him, but I let him die. He chose to stay in that burning house. I’m an accessory to his death. But I could have been his last victim.
It was self-preservation in revenge’s clothes.
I nudge Izzy’s knees with mine. “Go back to sleep.”
I pet her hair until her eyelids get too heavy to stay open. She sleeps like Nora, throwing her elbows around and breathing loudly through her mouth.
At some point, there will be questions. Xander’s body was found in the charred shell of Yarrow House. The coroner will have to start with all the mushrooms growing out of his skin before they worry about why he was in an abandoned house when it caught fire. Then there will probably be cops and voicemails from Mrs. Greenway. I might tell her to keep the clothes I left in her washing machine.
Today, I don’t want to answer any questions. It’s day seven of the spell.
I leave my sisters to sleep in my bed. Tomorrow, I’ll tell them to stay the fuck out of my room again. Today, it’s nice to know that they’re safe.
* * *
Lucky Thirteen is closed on Sundays. I asked Toby why once—it’s not like she has to go to church—and she told me that everyone deserved a day to themselves. She picked Sunday because it was when her friends could ride with her.
This was before I knew that sometimes Toby’s friends assemble on Friday nights to hunt zombies.
I stand outside the little yellow Victorian, not quite in knocking distance of the door. With the shop closed, the building has transformed back into being someone’s house. A house with a shotgun inside.
I dig my fingernails into the lines of my palm, one by one. Toby and her friends and her shotgun ruined my Friday night. I can claim part of her Sunday.
I knock on the door. When I don’t hear movement inside, I knock again, harder. I’ll stand here all day. I’ll make a scene if I have to. I have business with that old witch.
The door swings open, and I take a surprised step backward. Dr. Miller cranes her long neck toward me, her fluffy hair wild around her face. She’s wearing a pink bathrobe printed with multicolored hearts, each as big as my hand.
“Camila,” she says, way less surprised to see me than I am to see her. She points toward the sign in the front window: So Mote It Be, We’re Closed. “You’ll have to come back after school tomorrow.”
“I’m not here to shop,” I say. “I need to talk to Toby. Is she, uh, here, too?”
She gives me a pitying smile for even having to ask. Toby is here. They are here together. Dr. Miller and Toby live together. Huh.
“I don’t know that she’ll want to visit with you right now,” she says. She drops her voice down to a whisper. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but her feelings were truly hurt when you stole from the shop and did magic without her help. It will take a long time to build that trust back.”
“Xander Greenway is dead, Dr. Miller.” I cross my arms over my chest, but the bravado can’t carry me through. My sinuses burn and my voice cracks as the reality of it settles over me. “He killed June and Dayton, and last night he died trying to kill me and Aniyah Dorsey. And it’s the last day of the resurrection spell, so I’d like to get some stuff cleared up before I go see my friends for the last time.”
A hand flies to her chest, pressing down the lapels of her robe. Her mouth flops open like a fish struggling to breathe out of water. She looks at the sleeve of my jacket where Xander’s bloodstains look like splattered paint. There are footsteps behind her, and I see Toby appearing at the base of the stairs that are usually roped off.
“Cora? What’s going on? What’s the—” Toby stops talking as she sees me. Her forehead creases. “Mila, we’re closed.”
Dr. Miller steps aside, swinging her head back and forth in disbelief. “No, she needs to talk to us. There’s a lot we don’t know. Come in, Camila. Please.”
Toby’s chin tucks back into her neck in confusion as I step over the threshold. Unlike her usual gauzy and revealing outfits, she’s wearing red flannel pajamas that cover all her tattoos. It might be the first time I haven’t been able to see her cleavage. “What are we supposed to do? Play wise old crones and have tea?”