Mesmerize Page 3

  “So there are more Mystyx out there,” I say. “There have to be. If your mom was one, that’s at least one generation of Mystyx. And weather anomalies are becoming more frequent. It stands to reason that there might be others besides us.”

  “I would think there would have to be to maintain the balance of good and evil in the future,” Sasha adds. She has just finished eating an enormous salad for lunch. It looked like an entire garden in her salad bowl, but she quickly ate it all.

  “Right,” Krystal chimes in. “We’re here for this battle, this time.”

  Twan thought about it for a moment. “So the real question is, how do you beat this Charon character?” he asks.

  “How do we defeat a centuries-old demon that lives in the Underworld?” I ask more for effect, just to see if it sounds as impossible as I think.

  Sasha sighs. “There has to be something we can do. With all our powers combined, perhaps we can destroy him. Although I don’t think he’ll ever really be dead,” she says.

  “But we can exile him to Hades,” I say, trying to sound optimistic.

  “What in the world is Hades?” Twan asks. “I thought it was a person not a place,” he continues, munching on a mouthful of French fries.

  Sasha gives him a look that totally says yuck, and I almost laugh out loud because that’s exactly what I’m thinking. Instead, I run my fingers along the scroll Jake found in his yard and lower my voice a bit more. The last thing we want is for someone to hear us preparing to do battle with a powerful demon.

  “There are different layers of the afterlife. The Underworld is the realm of demons. Hades is the land of the dead. Trance is the place where you kind of linger, an in-between state before you die. You can linger there for ages,” I explain.

  “Sick,” Twan says, taking the napkin Sasha offered to wipe his mouth.

  “We can’t go to the Underworld. But can Charon enter this realm?” Krystal asks Jake, who for one of the few times is not wearing a hoodie today. He has on a light green button-down shirt that highlights the light brown flecks in his eyes.

  Jake has come a long way. Well, he’s come a long way emotionally, since I haven’t known him that long. But I know the struggles he’s gone through. I know the pain and the strength it took for him to make his decision. I know because I felt every torrential emotion his body went through. Lately, that’s how my telepathic power has manifested itself. I’m more of an empath now than a telepath.

  Among the gazillion books I have stacked in my bedroom, lately I’ve acquired an interest in Greek mythology and all things mystical. Now, of course I love my useless facts, but what I really love is when I read something that’s supposed to be a myth or a legend and yet it’s true. Like this whole thing we’re mixed up in—the River Styx and us being Mystyx, and this gatekeeper guy, Charon, and the dark demons populating the town of Lincoln—parallel worlds of the past colliding with the present.

  “I can travel to other realms,” Sasha says.

  Jake was already shaking his head. “You can’t travel to the Underworld. And if you could, I wouldn’t let you go alone.”

  “That’s right,” Sasha says, scooting closer to the table. “You know how to get there, don’t you?”

  “You do?” Twan asks. “Man, this is deep. Some days I just can’t believe this is real.”

  I guess it would be hard for him to believe since it wasn’t actually happening to him, just around him. And some days I wondered how we managed to keep the secret. Twan is the only outsider who knows about us. For years things have been happening around this town that are weird, and sooner or later people are going to start asking questions. People like Sasha’s father and Walter Bryant, the local meteorologist, and now the police, who were still searching for the missing teens from the religious retreat.

  Krystal finishes up her lunch and drinks the last of her Sprite. She looks like she’s about to say something and then she stops. Her gaze moves toward something behind Twan’s shoulder. She pauses, her entire body going still. Long, ebony hair frames her face, making her complexion look even darker. She has wide brown eyes with a naturally smoky eyelid that supermodels would kill for. Right now, all of her features are taking on a surreal effect as she continues to stare.

  As if on cue, everyone at the table stops talking. We know what’s happening and are just waiting for Krystal to say something.

  “Something’s happening. Everyone who can cross over is doing so very quickly. The ones who can’t are being hunted, their souls devoured by something dark and dangerous,” Krystal whispers. Trembling fingers go to her face, grabbing strands of her hair and tucking them behind her ears. “They fear the darkness. They fear the evil it brings with it. With each soul it devours, it’s getting stronger and stronger.”

  “Strong enough to walk this realm?” Jake whispers without taking his eyes off Krystal. “Charon’s gaining power even without my help.”

  Jake has been unhappy that he is unable to thwart the demon by himself. It was a tough decision to let the good in him prevail over evil and even harder for him to accept that he was a vortex—a rare mix of powers of good and evil. I could tell him that he’s on the right path and that his mother is probably happy that he chose good, just as I’m sure the rest of us are. But Jake’s more complicated than just words. I could tell him all that, and he’d still carry that guilt around with him like a backpack. So I don’t say anything, I just look down at the scroll, trying to figure out more of what it said.

  “So how do you guys gain power?” Twan asks. It seems his voice has broken into Krystal’s trance, because she gasps and stares down at the table. Jake immediately wraps an arm around her.

  “Maybe I need to go back to the Majestic, find someone there who’ll tell us what to do,” Sasha offers.

  She’s worried now, we all are. The tension is thick as thoughts of a world gone totally dark, powers still as yet unleashed and places we’d never seen before swirl around us. With each breath I absorb more and more of the thoughts and feelings of the friends surrounding me. Krystal’s heart is beating erratically, but Jake’s touch provides some comfort. Sasha’s nervous energy is bubbling up inside of her so much so that she could barely stand still. Twan is anxious. I guess because he’s on the outside looking in, that offered some measure of comfort. It’s like a video game to him. As for me, I don’t really have time for my own emotions. I’m so overwhelmed by everyone else’s that my temples start to throb.

  I’m so happy when the bell rings that I want to practically scream. Instead, I take slow breaths, steadying myself before I stand up. I’d learned the hard way that I could be quickly overloaded by other people’s emotions. Nobody in the group really knows about my empathic abilities yet. They’re just getting used to the idea that I can read their minds. The only thing that stops me is black. The depth of color blocks everything out. It seems that every time Jake, Krystal or Sasha sees me, they’re trying to block me from reading their thoughts by dressing Goth.

  Despite my casual demeanor, Jake knows something’s going on with me. I’ve picked up on it a few times, the way he looks at me, the questions swirling around in his head. Like now, he has his arm around Krystal but his eyes are probing me. He’s asking if I’m okay, not verbally, but I can hear him clearly.

  I nod and loo
k away, grabbing the scroll and putting it into my purse. I don’t like that he senses these things, like he can read my mind. Oddly enough, I don’t like it when someone else tries to do to me what I routinely do to them. This whole situation is strange—my life, my circumstances, their lives, our predicament, everything. I can hardly think of anything else for the rest of the day, which is bound to be reflected in my grades.

  “Lindsey can make the bottom four like Gemma used to do.”

  Olivia’s voice is nasal and grates like fingernails against some imaginary chalkboard in my head. When I look at her I’m not at all surprised that her thoughts mirror exactly what she’s saying. Nothing’s going on inside her head except for cheerleading—like she’s obsessed with this stuff, which is pretty pathetic. This is like the third time I’ve asked myself why I’m here. I don’t like Olivia or girls like her. Yet I’ve voluntarily joined her band of dumb groupies.

  There are ten of them making up the twelve-member cheerleading squad. James Ryerson is the only male and he’s just a spotter. He’s sitting on the lowest level of the bleachers as we’re all standing just outside the gate that blocks the bleachers from the field. I guess once we get it together he’ll come over, but for right now he seems content to sit there picking at his fingers like they’re much more interesting.

  Nicola Cronan and Davanna Lang are standing right beside me. They’re both taller than I am and already wearing the short white skirt and yellow-and-blue-letter sweater. I’m just wearing shorts because I don’t have the official Settleman’s Chiefs cheerleading uniform yet.

  “She’s so small,” Nicola says, looking at me like I’m a blade of grass under her sneakers.

  “But that’s where Gemma was in formation and she’s taking her place,” Olivia says, sounding like she’s whining for a new bicycle instead of giving a command to the pep squad.

  “She might be okay,” Davanna offers, giving me a small smile as she speaks.

  I’ve seen her before, she’s actually in one of my classes, math, I think. She has a pretty smile with perfect white teeth—definitely a product of braces. For the most part she’s quiet in class but that could be because there were no other members of the cheerleading squad there. When I walked out of the locker room and across the field to meet them she’d been chatting happily with Nicola and another girl on the squad, all three of them yapping and giggling until Olivia blew her whistle, which I assume is the call to attention.

  “Actually,” I say because I’m not about to stand here and bicker all day over something so simple, “it makes more sense if I top the tower because of my slight build. You want your sturdier girls on the bottom to keep us steady.”

  Olivia looks at me like I’ve just spoken German and I know she’s about to say something else but Coach Delaney appears from like nowhere. I didn’t see her approach but here she is with two girls on either side of her, two girls who look insanely alike.

  “Excuse me, girls, but I need to interrupt,” Delaney says.

  She’s a tall woman with skin the color of dirt and a dingy gray-tinged ponytail that hangs down her back like the end of a witch’s broom. Her face is fixed in a permanent scowl, sort of like Mrs. Hampton’s. Even when she talks her lips remain turned down. It’s a creepy look that sort of fits her and those wrinkled sweat suits she likes to wear.

  “Isis and Ivy Langhorne are new to Settleman’s. Just moved here, from where’d you say again?” she asks the girl on the right.

  My first thought is that the girls are identical but when I look directly at their eyes—which I do out of habit since that’s the way I read minds best—I see there’s the difference. One of them has tawny brown eyes and the other has blue. Not as pure a blue as Dylan’s, but still blue. This is only like the kazillionth time I’ve thought about Dylan since I’ve been out here, even though I’m trying valiantly not to think about him at all. That’s really hard since I know he’s just across the field running plays with the rest of the football team.

  “We’ve always been cheerleaders.” A crisp female voice draws my attention back to the girls and I see it’s the blue-eyed one speaking. “I’m Ivy,” she continues then smiles, a slow mechanical movement that doesn’t touch her cool stare at all.

  “Hi, Ivy, I’m Olivia, captain of the cheerleading squad here at Settleman’s,” Olivia says, stepping forth and extending her hand to Ivy, who doesn’t even look at it, let alone reach out to shake in response. Olivia’s arm drops to her side and she clears her throat. “Unfortunately, the squad’s full for the year. You can try out next year, though. I’d love to see what you’ve got.”

  “We’re seniors,” the one named Isis says and her voice kind of echoes on the air.

  Delaney interrupts then. “It seems there are two girls on your squad that failed Chemistry last quarter.” She talks as she looks down at her clipboard. “Shannon and Eliza, you’ll have to sit out the rest of the year. Everyone needs to maintain a C average in all classes to participate in a sport.”

  “But—” Shannon is already sputtering in protest. “I studied for that chem test. I really did.”

  Eliza isn’t brokenhearted at all, just shrugs and marches right past Delaney without another word. That might have something to do with the college guy she can’t stop thinking about. High school cheerleading probably pales in comparison to hot nights with an older guy. Not that I know anything about that, but Eliza definitely does.

  “So Ivy and Isis are in, and Shannon and Eliza are out.” Delaney taps her pencil against the clipboard, does an about-face turn and waits only a beat for Shannon to flock beside her where the twins just stood. Without looking back she begins walking, Shannon on the brink of tears right behind her.

  The twins stay, both with picture-perfect smiles resting an equal amount of about three seconds on each girl before finally landing on me. Knowing how it feels to be the new girl I step forward and say, “Welcome to Settleman’s.” I don’t extend my hand because I have no desire to have it left dangling in the air as Ivy did with Olivia.

  “Well,” Olivia says with a huff. “Let’s get started. Lindsey’s going to top the pyramid. Isis and Ivy you two can bottom on either end. James!” she yells. “Let’s go!”

  James pops off the bleachers like a jack-in-the-box and jogs over toward us. Ivy and Isis fall in line with what Olivia just said and we begin to practice.

  I never did like the cheerleading squad much. The solitary craft of gymnastics holds much more appeal. But I’m trying to fit in here, to for once, actually belong. Since I doubt Mrs. Hampton will ever leave this small town, I won’t be transferring to another school. This is home, at least until I head off to college next year. I might as well make the best of it.

  And as if that thought reaches out into the universe and taps him right on the shoulder, Dylan stops midstride and looks over to me. Of course I’m looking over at him. I’ve been sneaking glances over there all afternoon. Our eyes lock, across the field, on a beautifully sunny spring afternoon and I think I could actually like it here in Lincoln after all.

  Five

  The Long Ride Home

  It’s three minutes after five. I have precisely seven minutes to make it from the gym, out the front door and onto the bus stop. If not, I’ll be walking the ten or so miles to my house. The late bus leaves
at exactly five-ten. It’s supposed to take home all the students who stay for after-school activities. Before I had no need to take this bus, now I guess I do.

  The moment I push open the front door I choke on the dry heat. We practiced outside and it was warm but suddenly if feels suffocating. Reaching back, scooping my hair up off my neck, I fan a little then walk down the steps looking for the bus. It’s not there.

  I check my watch and frown as it’s only six minutes after. No way the bus left already. As I walk down all the steps and head down the walkway despair rises. There’re no other students out here waiting for the bus. Crap, I missed it. The idea of walking in this heat is not appealing. I wish I had a license and a car like Sasha, or a driver like Sasha. Even Jake has an old beat-up pickup truck that his father helped him fix and get on the road. It used to belong to his grandfather who died just a few months back. Neither of them are here right now to offer me a lift.

  I’m just about to start walking when I hear a car approaching. There’s only a small street that leads to the school then you have to turn into the circular driveway and either circle all the way back out to the small street or turn left and head toward the even smaller parking lot. But it’s late so the only vehicle coming up here would be the bus. Turning hopefully, I’m only slightly deflated as I see this shiny black car with tinted windows approaching.

  It’s slowing down as it gets closer to me, sunlight glinting off the sparkling silver rims. I should keep going, after all, I don’t know anybody who drives a car like this. Sasha has a red sports car that her bodyguard Mouse used to drive all the time. Now Mouse drives this huge SUV that looks like it could haul the entire cheerleading team if need be. And like I said, Jake’s old truck doesn’t compare to this shiny new toy at all. I think Krystal’s mom just bought a new car, but it’s a totally domestic sedan. Nothing like this. They’re the only people I know in Lincoln.