I had the rest of the usual suspects—a desk, a chair, a few knickknacks. There was a collection of still-boxed figurines on the shelves and a wardrobe with my meager selection of clothes. Yeah, this was home. Well, when I actually got to spend some time here. I’d lost count of the countries I’d been to in the last year, thanks to Erebus.
Walking to said wardrobe, I took out jeans, a T-shirt, and some fresh boxers. My daily uniform. As I got dressed, wincing every time I bent the wrong way or brushed one of my many new injuries, I looked at the pictures on the desk. There was one of me and the Muppet Babies, all together, outside the Fleet Science Center. It had been Jacob’s idea, during his brief foray into photography. We were all smiling in the photo. Yes, even me.
Santana wasn’t looking at the camera and appeared to be laughing at something Raffe had said. Dylan had scooped Tatyana into his arms and hoisted her in a fireman’s lift. The shock in her eyes was captured for eternity.
Wade and Harley were standing as if they were trying to take a nice photo for prom, Wade’s arms around her waist. Astrid and Garrett bookended them with strained smiles, as far apart as it was possible to be. As for me, I was crouched in the middle, giving it the rap-star vs. no whiff of a lover in sight. Well, not really.
I sat cross-legged in front of the mirror and dragged a comb through my hair. Staring at my reflection, I sighed. It was nice to see people happy, sure, but I would’ve liked to have someone, too. You know, someone I could vent to at night, or relax with when I was tired of missions and magic and all that malarkey.
Yeah, but you had yours. My brain came in with a sharp reminder. And maybe one was all a person got. I’d loved Adley more than I’d known, and it had taken my stupid head too long to realize it. I ruined it with her, so maybe I didn’t get to have a second chance with someone else.
Just someone else, eh? I reached up to the top drawer of my desk and took out a packet of my special pills. My brain was being a little too chatty right now, and it was time to put those pesky gremlins to sleep for a bit. It had a point, though. Every morning, I woke up thinking about a certain woman, and every night, I went to sleep thinking of her.
Why did it have to be her? Harley would feed me to Murray if she found out I was crushing on her adoptive sister. And the psychological implications were borderline Ancient Grecian.
Not that it mattered. Between my mind gremlins and my servitude to Erebus, I wasn’t exactly a catch. And I wasn’t about to drag someone else into my world. Especially not Ryann Smith. Plus, whenever we met, I morphed into Finch the Jackass or Finch the Deathly Silent. Whichever my mind preferred that day. Oh, and I could never resist the urge to make fun of her towering Canuck moose of a boyfriend, Adam, which didn’t exactly make her warm up to me.
But I couldn’t help it. That guy riled me up, giving me all sorts of inferiority complexes. He looked like he spent all day at the gym, he’d gone to Harvard, he was interning as a pediatrician. I mean, come on! And it definitely didn’t help that he was so damn nice. Like too nice. Like serial killer nice. And I’d never be like that.
I threw down the comb and lay back on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. I blamed the Smiths for this—Mr. and Mrs. Smith, to be precise. They’d smothered me with love after the Blip of Eris was over. Mrs. Smith, the mother hen, had truly scooped me under her wing. I had an open invitation to their house, and Harley had hauled me along at every possible opportunity.
With all the cakes and homecooked food and watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith canoodling constantly, how could I not have fallen for Ryann? They’d set the mood, being all loved-up all the time! I didn’t go over there as much anymore, but I was invited to the occasional Sunday barbecue. Which Captain Serial Killer was always at, too.
Okay, enough wallowing. I rolled over and stiffly got to my feet. Dispensing with all thoughts of Ryann, I hobbled into the bathroom to wash that girl right out of my… face. I couldn’t shower. Marianne’s orders.
Running the faucet, I splashed the cool water on my skin, along with some soap, and started to brush my teeth. After sticking my head under the faucet to rinse my mouth out, I straightened to take another look at myself.
A scream nearly squeaked out of my throat as I stared at the words that had appeared on the mirror. Bloody writing spelled out the ominous message:
“I summon thee.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I summon you to stick your summons up your butt,” I muttered, breathing sharply and bracing myself against the sink to stop myself from having an all-out heart attack. Why couldn’t he just text me, or call, or send a letter? Even a carrier pigeon would’ve been better for my nerves than this.
It pissed me off… and scared me, a little bit. I was in no condition to face Erebus right now, especially after my colossal failure with Ponce de León.
You’ll have to wait, sunshine. I needed a breather. And, anyway, what was the worst that could happen?
Five
Finch
An hour later, fresh as a daisy, I sat in the Banquet Hall for breakfast. I had coffee. I had pastries. Life was good. I always appreciated the spread they put on here. No matter what time of day it was, you could always swipe something tasty from the kitchens.
The Muppet Babies were assembled, looking annoyingly chirpy. Then again, they hadn’t gone twelve rounds with a poltergeist.
“How are you feeling?” Tatyana asked, sipping delicately at some herbal nonsense.
“Ah, I see the news spread quickly,” I replied. “I’m fine. I’m going to have some super-manly scars, but I’ll live.”
“Poltergeists are very dangerous, Finch.” She eyed me sternly.
I smiled back. “So everyone keeps telling me.”
“Did they get all the poison out?”
I nodded. “Apparently. Turns out, Preceptor Gracelyn is pretty nifty with her Wiccan mumbo-jumbo.”
“It’s not mumbo-jumbo. Wiccan magic is very powerful, and very legitimate,” Santana said pointedly. She and I were still not quite in the realm of friendship. We’d been making progress, but then I’d doused her and her feather boa. Accidental, of course, but she had a big wet chip on her shoulder about it.
“Nothing wrong with a few scars, buddy,” Dylan chimed in, as positive as ever. Honestly, I’d gotten used to his eternal optimism.
“At least you’re not possessed or anything,” Raffe added through a mouthful. Charming.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Kadar rose to the surface for a moment.
Raffe rolled his eyes as he shifted back. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Like Tatyana said, poltergeists are dangerous business. I was concerned for his welfare, that’s all. You don’t have to take everything so personally.”
“Can poltergeists possess someone?” Jacob looked up from his bowl of technicolor puffs of cereal. He might’ve liked to pretend otherwise, but he was still a kid.
“They can if they’re pushed to it, or they have a reason for it,” Tatyana replied.
“I can think of a few reasons it’d want to possess Finch.” A new voice in our group spoke, casting me a terrifyingly girlish smirk. Saskia Vasilis, Tatyana’s sixteen-year-old sister, who’d have given Regina George a run for her money. I blamed Ryann and Harley for me even knowing who that was. They’d made me sit through Mean Girls on one of our evenings at the Smiths’.