Which of course made sense given that Elizabeth was his best friend and Nadia was a girl he’d known for a few days before she started babbling about witchcraft. But still.
Verlaine kept talking. “I just think maybe this is something you could do later. Or never. Never also works.”
“I’m not confronting her,” Nadia said as she made her way along the cracked sidewalk. Weeds jutted up from every chink in the concrete. Twilight had begun to deepen the blue of the sky, but she had time to get there and back before dark. “I’m simply—checking out the situation.”
“So you’re going to go to her house and sneak around, while hoping she doesn’t catch you in the act. That’s either dangerous for you or creepy for her. Possibly both.”
“Listen. I know she’s a witch. If she’s not dangerous—and maybe she isn’t, I don’t know—then she’s a potential friend, okay? Someone we need to know.”
Unconvinced, Verlaine said, “If you want to make friends with someone, I’m pretty sure snooping around her house at sunset isn’t the way to go.”
She had a point. Nadia knew it. But she couldn’t shake the idea that something was seriously not right about Elizabeth Pike, and if Elizabeth was in any way, shape, or form part of the darker forces at work in Captive’s Sound, then a direct confrontation was a bad idea—at least until Nadia knew more about who she was dealing with. “I swear, I’m not going stalker on her. But if I walk up to her and start talking about witchcraft, and she doesn’t know anything about it, then that’s even worse than my taking a look at her house, right?”
“Maybe.”
“And remember—there’s trouble coming to town. Big trouble. If Elizabeth knows anything about it, we should find that out sooner rather than later.”
“Okay, okay.” Though Verlaine didn’t sound enthusiastic, she gave in. “Text me the second you’re done, all right? Which should be soon.”
“A few minutes. That’s all. Promise. I’m going now, all right? Catch you later.”
Finally Nadia slid her cell into the pocket of her jeans. Within another couple of blocks, she’d reach Elizabeth’s home, and she needed to concentrate. There were certain basic protective signs to look for—plantings by the front or back door, certain stones, things like that; Nadia had done a little of this around her family’s new house already. Maybe she could spot Elizabeth’s own wards against evil. In the end, though, she thought she might end up peeking through Elizabeth’s windows like any Peeping Tom.
Was that weird and creepy? Even if she was doing it for a good cause?
But Nadia didn’t know what else to do.
Just as she got within a couple blocks of her goal, though, she saw Elizabeth.
She sat on a cast-iron bench in a weedy, bedraggled garden—a public garden, Nadia now saw from the chipped sign. Before, when she’d gone past it, she had assumed it was an abandoned lot. Swiftly she ducked behind one of the overgrown hedges, so she wouldn’t be seen.
To herself she said, You know, this is definitely going over the edge into stalking.
Elizabeth’s white cotton dress was painted periwinkle blue by the dusky sky, and her curls blew softly in the breeze. In one hand she held a bottle of water, which caught the last rays of sunlight. Nadia heard an engine’s roar—a familiar sound. Peering through the leaves of the hedge, she saw Mateo’s motorcycle zoom down the street toward her.
No. Toward Elizabeth.
He braked his bike, shut it off. The look of rapt adoration on his face as he took off his helmet—it cut Nadia deeper than she would have thought possible. Elizabeth held out her arms, and Mateo went to her. Their shadows became one as he was enveloped in her embrace.
Nadia couldn’t look anymore. For one split second, she was angry with him; then she was angrier with herself.
Why are you upset? Why are you even surprised? He cares about her. Something horrible has just happened to him. Of course Mateo would turn to Elizabeth.
No doubt Mateo was telling the truth about him and Elizabeth. But even if they weren’t together—maybe he cared more for her than he’d revealed. Maybe even more than he realized.
Nadia started walking back the way she’d come—then running. As the pavement slapped beneath each step, she felt like more and more of an idiot.
Why would Elizabeth be connected to the evil force behind everything in Captive’s Sound? Okay, she didn’t freak out today. So what? You’re pretty sure she’s a witch—that’s all—and so you ought to be making friends with her. Not spying. Not having some kind of a freak-out because she’s being nice to Mateo, the guy she’s known her whole life.
Holding Mateo—
Admit it. You wanted her to be evil, because you wanted to get her away from him.
Why am I so stupid?
Nadia came to a stop just short of her own house and braced herself against a neighbor’s car, breathing hard, until the flush in her cheeks cooled and she felt like she was in control again. Dad and Cole couldn’t see that she was hurting; they didn’t need her to break down. They needed her love. They needed dinner.
For a moment she imagined how different it could be, how it ought to be. She would run inside to find Mom there, smiling and steady and smelling of her perfume, Dad’s arms around her waist as he hugged her from behind. Nobody would have to worry about Cole. She could ask Mom what it all meant—what was sick in this town, what Elizabeth might or might not be, how Mateo could be her Steadfast—and Mom would know, because she always knew. They’d figure it out together.
Verlaine kept talking. “I just think maybe this is something you could do later. Or never. Never also works.”
“I’m not confronting her,” Nadia said as she made her way along the cracked sidewalk. Weeds jutted up from every chink in the concrete. Twilight had begun to deepen the blue of the sky, but she had time to get there and back before dark. “I’m simply—checking out the situation.”
“So you’re going to go to her house and sneak around, while hoping she doesn’t catch you in the act. That’s either dangerous for you or creepy for her. Possibly both.”
“Listen. I know she’s a witch. If she’s not dangerous—and maybe she isn’t, I don’t know—then she’s a potential friend, okay? Someone we need to know.”
Unconvinced, Verlaine said, “If you want to make friends with someone, I’m pretty sure snooping around her house at sunset isn’t the way to go.”
She had a point. Nadia knew it. But she couldn’t shake the idea that something was seriously not right about Elizabeth Pike, and if Elizabeth was in any way, shape, or form part of the darker forces at work in Captive’s Sound, then a direct confrontation was a bad idea—at least until Nadia knew more about who she was dealing with. “I swear, I’m not going stalker on her. But if I walk up to her and start talking about witchcraft, and she doesn’t know anything about it, then that’s even worse than my taking a look at her house, right?”
“Maybe.”
“And remember—there’s trouble coming to town. Big trouble. If Elizabeth knows anything about it, we should find that out sooner rather than later.”
“Okay, okay.” Though Verlaine didn’t sound enthusiastic, she gave in. “Text me the second you’re done, all right? Which should be soon.”
“A few minutes. That’s all. Promise. I’m going now, all right? Catch you later.”
Finally Nadia slid her cell into the pocket of her jeans. Within another couple of blocks, she’d reach Elizabeth’s home, and she needed to concentrate. There were certain basic protective signs to look for—plantings by the front or back door, certain stones, things like that; Nadia had done a little of this around her family’s new house already. Maybe she could spot Elizabeth’s own wards against evil. In the end, though, she thought she might end up peeking through Elizabeth’s windows like any Peeping Tom.
Was that weird and creepy? Even if she was doing it for a good cause?
But Nadia didn’t know what else to do.
Just as she got within a couple blocks of her goal, though, she saw Elizabeth.
She sat on a cast-iron bench in a weedy, bedraggled garden—a public garden, Nadia now saw from the chipped sign. Before, when she’d gone past it, she had assumed it was an abandoned lot. Swiftly she ducked behind one of the overgrown hedges, so she wouldn’t be seen.
To herself she said, You know, this is definitely going over the edge into stalking.
Elizabeth’s white cotton dress was painted periwinkle blue by the dusky sky, and her curls blew softly in the breeze. In one hand she held a bottle of water, which caught the last rays of sunlight. Nadia heard an engine’s roar—a familiar sound. Peering through the leaves of the hedge, she saw Mateo’s motorcycle zoom down the street toward her.
No. Toward Elizabeth.
He braked his bike, shut it off. The look of rapt adoration on his face as he took off his helmet—it cut Nadia deeper than she would have thought possible. Elizabeth held out her arms, and Mateo went to her. Their shadows became one as he was enveloped in her embrace.
Nadia couldn’t look anymore. For one split second, she was angry with him; then she was angrier with herself.
Why are you upset? Why are you even surprised? He cares about her. Something horrible has just happened to him. Of course Mateo would turn to Elizabeth.
No doubt Mateo was telling the truth about him and Elizabeth. But even if they weren’t together—maybe he cared more for her than he’d revealed. Maybe even more than he realized.
Nadia started walking back the way she’d come—then running. As the pavement slapped beneath each step, she felt like more and more of an idiot.
Why would Elizabeth be connected to the evil force behind everything in Captive’s Sound? Okay, she didn’t freak out today. So what? You’re pretty sure she’s a witch—that’s all—and so you ought to be making friends with her. Not spying. Not having some kind of a freak-out because she’s being nice to Mateo, the guy she’s known her whole life.
Holding Mateo—
Admit it. You wanted her to be evil, because you wanted to get her away from him.
Why am I so stupid?
Nadia came to a stop just short of her own house and braced herself against a neighbor’s car, breathing hard, until the flush in her cheeks cooled and she felt like she was in control again. Dad and Cole couldn’t see that she was hurting; they didn’t need her to break down. They needed her love. They needed dinner.
For a moment she imagined how different it could be, how it ought to be. She would run inside to find Mom there, smiling and steady and smelling of her perfume, Dad’s arms around her waist as he hugged her from behind. Nobody would have to worry about Cole. She could ask Mom what it all meant—what was sick in this town, what Elizabeth might or might not be, how Mateo could be her Steadfast—and Mom would know, because she always knew. They’d figure it out together.
