I was almost disappointed when we moved on to miniature golf. I would have been content to have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the bench next to Gavin with our legs brushing up against each other. But mini-golf redeemed itself when my score started to suck and Gavin had to come to my rescue again. My powers weren’t needed, not with his hands on mine, his chest pressed against my back, and his breath on my hair.

  “Can you show me how to do this one, Danny?” Naomi batted her lashes at him from the putting point of the fifteenth hole.

  “You just hit the ball into the hole,” Danny said.

  “And the windmill?”

  “Go through it.”

  “Come on,” she said. “I’m losing by a million points. Help a girl out?”

  Danny glanced at Gavin, behind me. I wondered what look Gavin gave him, because Danny offered Naomi a smile and agreed to help her out. He didn’t exactly press up against her the way Gavin had with me, but it was enough to put a glow on Naomi’s face.

  I was starving by the time we grabbed a booth at the Xavier’s Eatery, so I had to hold myself back from pouncing on the order of curly fries and sour cream dip. Gavin sat close enough to me that our thighs pressed against each other, and every now and then, our arms brushed. When I felt a vibration in my jeans, I jumped, but then realized it was my phone. I took it out and read the new text.

  Still at appt. Probably another hour. Chck on ur sister pls.

  “It’s my dad.” I punched the speed dial number for home, waited through the rings, and hung up when the answering machine clicked on. Mara was probably sleeping. I tucked the phone away and made a note to try again after we were done eating. “His parental protection mode’s been in overdrive ever since Mara came home.”

  “How’s she doing?” Gavin asked.

  “She’s … better?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but that’s how I felt. Like my sister was one big question mark. “She’s been quiet, but she just needs a little time to get back to normal.” At least I hoped that was true.

  “I have an uncle who had a stroke,” Gavin said. “And he was the same way when he came home from the hospital. Quiet. Kept to himself for a while.”

  I nodded, appreciating Gavin’s words. I dunked a curly fry in the dip, but didn’t take a bite. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” Gavin stole my fry and popped it in his mouth, smirking at me as he chewed.

  “Naomi says you used to run track.”

  He was quiet for a minute, eyes focusing on his soda cup as he turned it with his fingers.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  He turned to me, and I knew by the look in his eyes it was a story he wasn’t ready to tell. “Just some personal stuff that came up at home.”

  I glanced at Danny. His expression was carefully neutral. He knew, and he wasn’t talking, either.

  “Oh.” I didn’t press him further. I knew what it was like to have personal stuff going on at home I would rather not talk about.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Gavin asked.

  I braced myself. Was he going to ask about Mara? Or how I all of a sudden was able to hit the ball in the batting cage? “Sure.”

  “What’s your real hair color?” He tilted his head, as if to see me from a better angle. “I’ve seen you with red, but I never knew if that was out of a bottle.”

  He’d seen me with red? He’d noticed me before that night in the cemetery. He’d remembered my hair, and he was interested enough to wonder about it. Elation bubbled through me. I grabbed a strand and twirled it around a finger.

  “It’s really red. The red you see here in these streaks. Naomi got a little experimental, hence the black.”

  Naomi smiled at me, her straw tight between her teeth.

  Gavin’s fingers went to my hair, gently studying a strand. “I like the red.” My phone rang, ruining a perfectly good moment. I tried to salvage it, pressing the phone against my ear without tearing my eyes from Gavin’s. “Dad?”

  “You shouldn’t leave your sister alone.” The gruff, female voice caught me off guard as much as the statement.

  I quickly checked the number, but didn’t recognize it. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Lilura Black.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I blinked, my brain trying to process the fact that the witch lady had my cell phone number. “Why are you calling me?”

  Everyone at the table looked at me, curious.

  “You should be home.” Lilura’s tone was harsh, like she was scolding me.

  “What?”

  “Go. Home.”

  I felt frozen. “How did you get my number?”

  “Where are your parents?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  “My dad had a … meeting.” I don’t know why I told her that.

  “And your mother’s not exactly available, is she?”

  I’d already told her Mara was home alone. There was no way I was discussing my family’s psychological issues with a total stranger. “Look, can you just tell me what this is about?”

  “There is red smoke huffing and puffing its way out of your chimney. Where I come from, that’s not normal.”

  “What?”

  “Just hurry home and take care of it. It’s not a good sign. Goodbye.”

  “Wait! Hello?”

  The line went dead. I quickly punched in my home phone number and hoped Mara wasn’t so deep in sleep that she wouldn’t answer. After the fifth ring, the answering machine picked up. I ended the call.

  Was Lilura Black screwing with me? She was an odd, old lady, hence the town referring to her as a witch. Maybe she got her kicks by placing prank calls. But then … what if the warning was exactly that? What if Mara was in trouble, and I just blew off Lilura’s message?

  “Um, I think I have to go.”

  “Who was that on the phone?” Naomi asked.

  “It was … a neighbor. She thought she saw something, but she might be wrong. Mara’s not answering the phone, though, so I think I better check. Sorry, Naomi, can I take your car?”

  “I can drive you.” She shifted toward the end of the booth.

  “No!” I didn’t want Naomi to see what might be going on at my house. I was pretty scared of what I might find myself. “That would be rude. I’m sure my neighbor’s overreacting. She tends to exaggerate. So, um, finish your part of the date, and I’ll drive your car over tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure it’s nothing, but if I don’t check I’ll just worry the rest of the night.”

  Naomi handed me her keys and slid back to her spot in the booth, giving me the look of a best friend who wants to know if she should help out.

  “Thanks,” I told her, giving her a look that said she should trust me. Besides, I wasn’t about to cut her date with Danny short over what was probably a false alarm.

  Gavin stood up. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come?”

  “Yeah. Just be sure to get Naomi home in one piece, okay?”

  “Let me at least walk you out.” Gavin followed me to the door. I didn’t stop him. I felt better having him near me, if only for another two minutes.

  “Pretty crappy of me to run out on our first date, huh?”

  He huffed a laugh. “Actually, I think it’s pretty impressive how responsible you are, making sure your sister is okay and all.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” I said when we reached Naomi’s car. I turned to him, begging his forgiveness with my eyes.

  He eased a strand of hair away from my jaw. “Do what you have to do. I understand.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and softly kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Gavin.”

  He grinned and nodded.

  As I drove away, I snuck a glance at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He watched me for a moment, his hands stuffed in his pockets, before he headed back inside Xavier’s. I forced Gavin out of my mind and raced home.

  ***

  I couldn’t tell what color the smoke was, but there was definitely a lot of it billowing from the chimney. Enough to make me throw the car into park in my driveway and jump out. I screamed Mara’s name as I ran to the front door. I stumbled up the porch steps, bursting through the door—and straight into a thick red fog that smelled of earth and spices.

  I didn’t close the front door, hoping that the strange smoke cloud would escape into the open air. I waved my hand in front of my face, but it didn’t help. I had to squint to find my way to the stairs, calling out for Mara as I stumbled to her bedroom.

  She wasn’t in bed. She wasn’t on the floor or in the closet, or in the other bedrooms. I slid every window open, covering my nose with my shirt to protect my lungs from the fumes. I rushed back downstairs. Mara wasn’t in the kitchen either. I threw open the back door in an attempt to create an air current that might de-fog the house. Like magic, the smoke swooshed through the door, emptying out into the backyard.

  And there she was.

  Mara sat in her nightgown at the edge of the woods that bordered our backyard, knees pulled up to her chest, rocking and staring at the house. I ran to her, my breath coming out in short gasps.

  “Mara, what the hell?”

  She continued to stare at the house, rocking to a rhythm I couldn’t understand.

  I put my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “Mara, talk to me.”

  She stopped rocking. She slowly turned her head. It seemed to take forever until she found what she was looking for, and I was suddenly sorry I’d caught her attention. But Mara’s gaze didn’t land on me. She looked past me. I was hesitant to take my eyes off her to see what she was looking at, but at the same time I was afraid of what might be behind me, of whatever could cause her to act like this. I followed her gaze to a shadowy figure under the tree across the street. Who was there? I narrowed my eyes, but couldn’t make out who it might be.

  “He’s coming for me.”

  Her voice was flat. Empty. Terrifying.

  “Who’s coming, Mara?”

  She looked at me, her hazel eyes unblinking. “He won’t stop. There’s no escape.”

  I looked to the tree again, but the figure was gone. My eyes traveled to our house; the smoke had vanished. Like the figure had taken it with him. I shivered and fought the queasiness that threatened to make me sick on the lawn. I knelt down next to Mara; she was rocking again, and I tentatively reached out to hold her knee. To stop the rocking. To make her go back to being the Mara I used to know.

  “Come on, Mara.” I slipped my arm behind her shoulders and coaxed her off the ground. “Let’s get you inside before Dad gets home.”

  If Dad came home and found us outside like this, I wouldn’t be able to explain why all the windows were open. Or why I was shaking—because of smoke that wasn’t there and a mysterious person lost to the shadows. I wasn’t sure I even knew the girl I was guiding into the house.

  Chapter Nine

  “I wondered when you would come around.”

  Lilura Black scrutinized me through her screen door. I still wasn’t sure I should be there, or if she could provide the answers I needed, but after spending all day Saturday and most of Sunday morning unsuccessfully trying to figure things out, I was desperate enough to ask her.

  Lilura’s black cat meowed and rubbed its body against the inside of the screen door, glancing up at me with yellow eyes. Lilura cleared her throat. “Well, are you coming in?”

  She walked away from the screen door without opening it, her cat sashaying along behind her. Here goes nothing. I took a deep breath and stepped into the house. The lights were dim, so I couldn’t see where Lilura had gone. A smell offended my nostrils, like dust mixed with incense and baby powder. An entire wall was lined with bookshelves, the dark spines of the tomes tainted gray with dust.

  To my left, past the dining room, was the entrance to the kitchen. Lilura stood at the counter pouring tea into two cups. From this angle, her back looked even more curved. She hunched as if there was an invisible boulder in the space between her shoulders. Her hair was uncombed, the gray strands dominating the dark brown as they twisted and tangled around her square face. She hobbled toward me with the teacups. Her cat meowed, following her.

  Lilura set the cups on a square wooden table and narrowed her eyes. I shifted from one foot to the other, my arms wrapped around my body.

  She pulled a chair out and dropped her weight into it. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  This must have been her way of inviting me to join her, so I slid into my seat. Her cat bolted out from under the table, startling me. I pulled my cup toward me and took a sip. Ugh, gag. The tea was nearly undrinkable, but I didn’t dare ask for sugar. Lilura stared at me, her cool gaze daring me to speak.

  “You know why I’m here?” I asked.

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me why you think you’re here.”

  I ran a finger along the rim of the teacup. “I came because … well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “And you think I do?” Her wrinkly lips pursed as she brought her cup to them.

  “Well, yeah. You called to tell me about the smoke in my house.”

  “And?”

  “And how did you see it? Were you near my house? There’s no way you could have seen it from here.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t the one to see it. Maybe I’m just the one to tell you about it.”

  But who …? She had to mean Chase. He was the only person in the neighborhood who would actually talk to Lilura. But if so, what was he doing near my house? I set my cup down. “I think you know what’s happening, and maybe you’ll be able to help me understand.”

  She raised her hand to hover in the air between us, her yellowed fingernails weaving a slow circle before she slammed the table. I flinched.

  “Your aura is blocked,” she said. “You’re not ready to believe.”

  She must have been joking. Who reads auras anyway? What did she mean mine was blocked? And why couldn’t I get this crazy old woman to give me a straight answer? I took another sip of tea, regretting the move as soon as the liquid touched my tongue. An annoyingly loud clock ticked behind me. I turned and scanned the house. On a chest of drawers near the window sat a picture of Lilura with her arms around a young couple. In front of them stood two platinum blond boys.

  “Where’s Chase?” I turned to face her. “You know he tried to run me over?”

  “Stop exaggerating,” she said. “If he had wanted to run you over, he would have. More tea?”

  I glanced at her cup. It was empty, except for the dregs clinging to the bottom and sides. Mine was still full, and I squirmed at the thought of having to finish the awful drink. “No thanks.”

  She shrugged. Her cat meowed behind me, making its way under the table. Lilura studied her cup before pouring more tea. The ticking of the clock grew louder.

  “So, do you know what’s happening? Or am I wasting my time?” A part of me felt bad for being so brash, but another part of me was too frustrated to care.

  Lilura looked up at me, her dark eyes speckled with cloudy gray marks. Her thick, dark brows plunged down to meet her lids. “I know what’s happening.”

  I tightened my grip on my teacup and inched forward in my chair. “Are you going to tell me?”

  One side of her wrinkled mouth crept upward. “I’ll tell you, but first you’ll have to finish your tea.”

  Great. I lifted my cup to my lips and took a sip, knowing she was enjoying torturing me.

  “You will things to happen, do you?” she asked.

  A chill washed over me. I forced myself to swallow, and eventually I nodded.

  She traced invisible circles on the sun-faded tabletop. “But you can’t control it.”

  “Y-yes, I can. Sort of.”

  “Not when it counts, I’m betting. Not when there’s a life at stake.”

  What did she mean? I lowered my cup. Lilura was beginning to scare me.

  She leaned forward, studying my face. “How old are you?”

  It was a strange question to ask, but I’d known I was in for a strange conversation when I came here, so I went with it. “Sixteen.”

  “Ah.” She tilted her head. “And your sister is seventeen.”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  “It’s seventeen that matters.” Lilura motioned for me to drink more of my tea.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and downed the entire cup just to be done with it. The expression I made couldn’t be suppressed. My mouth just couldn’t handle so much bitterness at once. Lilura shook her head as if disappointed in me. She grabbed my cup, studying the inside.

  “Dark times,” she said. “Trials of honor in your future.”

  Umm … “What?”

  She set my cup down again and folded her hands on the table.

  “You are a Donas de Fuera.”

  I blinked at her. “A what?”

  “There are other names known throughout history. Chovexani. Praecantrix. Literally translated, they mean wife of the outside, or wife to nature, but literal translations are sometimes a bunch of garbage. Your breed dates back to before the faery witch trials of Sicily.”

  “Wait. Are you trying to tell me I’m some sort of faery witch?”

  She let out a strange, gruff sound that I gathered was a laugh. “Not in the sense you’re thinking. Though faery and witch are part of your roots, in actuality, you are a Vila.”

  I shook my head, because it suddenly felt like it was full of cotton. Cotton soaked in very bitter tea. “What the hell is a Vila?”

  Her eyes caught the light in a way that made them glow. “In old Europe, Vila were faery-like nymphs. They held great powers. Powers to manipulate events, dazzle men with their voices and seductive dance. They have the ability to make things happen by willing them to happen. In some legends, they can shape-shift into swans, horses, or wolves. They are the mixed race of witch and faery and have the powers usually associated with each.”