“Mrs. Yates—”
“Good day.”
That was that. She’d exhausted the woman’s goodwill, and Noah’s, too. He did not bid her goodbye, nor did he offer her a ride. Minerva was actually relieved; she hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and stepped out of the house. She didn’t really want to talk to either one of them, didn’t really want to dig into the mystery of this missing girl. She was tired. Everything around her was infected with the stench of witchcraft and she walked quickly, her hands jammed in her pockets, Nine Inch Nails playing loud in her headphones, until she reached the dorm and tossed the Discman on the couch with a heavy sigh.
She lay down, draped her arm over her eyes. She thought once more about the last story her great-grandmother had ever told her. About the witch who’d haunted their farm.
She fell asleep. When she awoke, night had fallen. The house was a den of shadows. She turned on all the lights in the apartment and jumped into the shower. She put on a black dress with a print of silver flowers that reached her calves, black tights, and a pair of black boots, smeared eyeshadow on, and twisted her hair into a bun. She felt like neither dressing up nor going out, but if she tried to escape this party Hideo would ask what was wrong, and she didn’t need him telling others that she was losing her mind.
She’d pinned the photos she’d taken of Ginny’s painting and drawings on her corkboard. She stared at the patterns as she readied herself.
When Hideo arrived, Minerva quickly stuffed the bird talisman into a purse and stepped out. Fortunately, Hideo wanted to play her a Luna Sea CD he’d burned, and they spent the short drive listening to the music, which suited her.
The party, however, gave her a headache, as usual. Music, people, laughter, and she had to smile at Patricia and Hideo and everyone else. After a while, she realized that the headache was not from the noise, but that once again there was that pernicious sensation at the back of her skull. A portent.
She felt a pair of eyes boring into her back and turned around to find Conrad Carter staring at her. Of course he’d been invited. Patricia was friends with practically the entire student population of Massachusetts. He raised a bottle of beer to his mouth and smirked at her.
Minerva sank into a chair and rubbed her temples, making sure not to look in his direction. Still, she felt his eyes on her. She drifted into the cramped kitchen, which turned out to be a bad idea because people kept streaming in to grab beers. Conrad slid into the kitchen and she glanced at the linoleum floor. She didn’t want to strike up a conversation with him, but he kept looking at her. Before he could open his mouth she went out of the kitchen and locked herself in the safety of the bathroom.
It seemed she always ended up there. She’d forgotten her aspirin and ransacked the medicine cabinet for a couple of pills, which she swallowed quickly. She leaned both hands against the bathroom sink and stared at her reflection. In the mirror she traced circles, remembering the witch marks.
When she stepped into the hallway and glanced into the living room Conrad Carter looked in her direction, then he laughed and turned away, busy talking to a young woman. Minerva felt someone’s heavy gaze on her, although this time she could not say where it was coming from.
It’s here,she thought.
She couldn’t see anything strange, but the house seemed to have grown darker. Something stirred the shadows and made the CD that was playing skip. The light in the hallway behind her grew dim. Her eyes were watering and her throat felt constricted, as if she’d come in contact with a toxic substance. It was terribly warm inside.
She stuck her hand into her purse, clutching the talisman, and hurried out of the party. She bumped into Hideo, who smiled at her. Minerva mumbled something about getting a little air. Once outside, she walked quickly from the house.
A summer breeze stirred the trees. She took a deep breath. A handful of paces from the house she was able to breathe properly. The night air refreshed her strained lungs and the tension in her body relaxed. She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.
A few blocks from the house it returned, that sensation that she was being watched.
She turned around, peering at the hedges and the houses. A lamppost at the corner flickered like a firefly. She walked faster and scooped out the talisman from the purse, carrying it in her left hand.
The clopping of her shoes seemed to echo down the street, clearly indicating her path. Behind her something was slithering along in the bushes; she felt it staring at her, trailing her, and went faster. Another lamppost flickered ahead and she made a sharp turn to the right, jaywalking across the street. It followed, sleek and silent.
She ran, thinking of the safety of the dorm. Around her the streets were calm and quiet, the picturesque beauty of New England on display, and as she moved toward Neptune Street there was the scent of the ocean and the sound of the waves. This was the shortest route back to Ledge House.
Something slammed into Minerva hard enough to send her rolling onto the ground. She lay sprawled in the middle of the road, her ears ringing. The invisible something that had been chasing her through town had caught up with her.
She squeezed the talisman tight. A pin bit into the flesh of her hand, and the presence that was chasing her wavered, slipped aside like smoke rising toward the sky. It lifted away and was gone.
Minerva managed to get to her knees and open her hands. She sat like that for what might have been a minute, or ten.
She breathed in and stood up on shaky legs, stumbling down the road. A blinding light hit her face and she heard the screech of tires, the dim rumble of a motor.
“Shit! What are you doing there? Are you okay?”
She held a hand up and blinked. Noah Yates had jumped out of his Jeep and was helping her toward his car.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“My purse,” she said. “Where’s my purse?”
She looked around. The purse had slipped from her grasp and was on the ground, along with her keys, her wallet. Everything had spilled out of it. Minerva desperately stuffed her belongings back in, looking for the talisman. Where had it gone?
“Fuck.”
