Page 12

12

I MADE IT TO THE WEEKEND.

Friday night I spent streaming the newest superhero TV show that had just dropped, intent on not thinking about visions or Al or the paranormal community or any of it. Since I was sequestered in my room, my parents didn’t even bother me for dinner. I just heated up a frozen pizza and sat on my bed while I watched flashy fight scenes and listened to expositional dialogue.

I slept through the morning on Saturday. My parents had already left for their weekly trip to the farmer’s market.

But at around noon, the doorbell rang.

A small spark of hope lit in my chest as I thundered down the stairs, hoping that Al was on the other side. We’d been noncommunicative since early Friday. I didn’t know what either of us was doing, honestly, but every time I unlocked my phone to text them, I just didn’t. Maybe because, deep down, I knew that the conversation that might follow was going to hurt. And I wanted to avoid that as much as I could.

But maybe it was Al.

Or Aiden! What I wouldn’t give for it to be Aiden. I needed a hug.

But when I wrenched open the door, it was neither of them.

A brand-new bike sat on the porch. The paint a sparkling green. It was far nicer than the current bike I owned, since that one had been a birthday gift back in middle school. A tag hung from the handlebars. I yanked it off to read the message in thick black lettering.

We look forward to meeting you.

The Psychic Guild

Okay. A gift basket was one thing. But a bike? One that easily cost several hundred dollars?

I looked around the front porch, but there was no sign of whoever had rung the bell. Shoving the message into the pocket of my sweats, I eased the bike under the awning where my old bike also currently sat. Hopefully my parents wouldn’t notice it when they came home.

But this did mean that Gemma was right—I was in over my head.

Trudging back upstairs, I picked the jeans from Friday off the floor and rummaged through the pocket. The edge of Gemma’s business card bit into my palm as I yanked it out.

The embossed lettering gleamed in the afternoon light coming in from my window.

Well, it couldn’t hurt to reach out. I tapped a text and hit send.

This is Cam. Can you talk?

The response was immediate.

Meet me in an hour at Drip.

Don’t ride the new bike.

That was creepy. How did she know already? Well, at least it proved she had connections and a much wider knowledge of the paranormal factions than I did.

I texted her back.

Okay.

I freshened up, changed my clothes, and headed out on my old bike to the coffee shop. It wasn’t that far of a ride, and the day was nice. My flannel shirt flapped behind me in a breeze that signaled summer was finally breaking toward fall.

Drip was housed on the bottom floor of an old brick building in Shady Hallow’s downtown area. It was hipster trendy, not a location I thought Gemma would use for a meeting, but at least it had a bike-and-broom rack outside. I locked my bike and pushed through the entrance, grateful for the blast of cool air that greeted me as I stepped over the threshold.

The interior was comprised of exposed brick walls and low hanging lights that emitted a soft glow compared to the bright afternoon sunlight outside. I wandered to the counter and ordered a large iced mocha and a muffin from the bored college student minding the register, then moved to the side and waited for my drink. Small round, wooden tables with chairs littered most of the area, and there was a stage at the back with a single stool that was, thankfully, unoccupied. Low chatter from customers filled the air, and as I glanced around, I noted a few students I recognized from school among the smattering of people.

I tucked the sleeves of my flannel down to my knuckles and curled my fingers over my palms, suddenly nervous. Had any of these people seen the video?

“Iced mocha.”

I took the plastic cup from the counter. “Thanks.”

“I’ll bring the muffin out in a minute.”

“Okay.”

I chose a table wedged by a corner, my back to the brick so I could observe the shop, and drummed the tips of my fingers on the glossy surface. I didn’t have to wait long before Gemma entered in a whirlwind of pink-haired rainbow glory. She didn’t say so much as “hello” before she plopped in the seat across from me, her stuffed unicorn backpack thudding on the hardwood floor at her feet.

She rested her chin on her tented fingers and peered at me, her blue eyes huge behind her glasses.

“So,” she said.

“So,” I replied.

“You need help,” Gemma said. She seemed to prefer to make blunt statements rather than ask questions, like she’d misplaced her allotment of question marks.

“I need help?” I asked.

“Yes.”

The girl from the counter came over and dropped a small plate with my muffin in front of me. She put her hands on her hips.

“The usual?” she asked in a flat voice.

Gemma squinted at her and gave a sharp nod. “Yes. Extra caramel drizzle, please.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Coming right up.”

“Come here often?” I asked.

Gemma waved her hand at the departing employee. “My sister. She works here.”

“Your sister?” I whipped my head around, taking in Gemma’s sister as she worked behind the counter, making whatever concoction was Gemma’s usual. She was tall with long brown hair, dark red lipstick, and black winged eyeliner. While Gemma exuded a chaotic, unbound energy, her sister decidedly did not.

“Yes. My sister. Val. She’s from my mom’s first marriage. I’m from the second. Thus the age gap. But anyway, she doesn’t mind me hanging out here, and she makes good enough coffee that I can forgive the vibe.”

I snorted. “Yeah. Didn’t think this was your kind of place.”

“It’s not so bad. Just avoid open mic night.”

I shivered. “Noted.”

“Anyway.” She leaned in and blinked. “The gifts have started appearing. Right?”

I peeled away the wrapper from the edge of my muffin. My appetite disappeared in a flash. “Yeah.”

“And Al…” She trailed off.

The weight of the distance that had grown between me and Al settled like a stone in my middle. “We’re not talking about Al.”

“Fair enough.” Gemma puffed her cheeks and blew out a breath. “Okay. So. Here’s the thing. You’re not a verified seer. Not yet. You need two more confirmed accurate glimpses.”

“I gathered that from your video. Which, by the way, I meant to ask you to take down.”

Gemma blinked. “Take down? Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing. And I didn’t want people to know.”

“Why not?” She cocked her head to the side, genuinely confused. Her blond, glittered eyebrows were raised, and her nose was scrunched in thought.

“Because I don’t even know what’s happening to me, and suddenly this new ability, which I had no idea I even had, is blasted across a worldwide social media platform. Do you not see how that would suck?”

Gemma sat up straight, her fingers clutching the edge of the table. She frowned. “No.”

“No?”

“No. You have an amazing gift. You’re destined to be the center of the local paranormal community. You have main character energy. Why would you hide it?”

“I’m what?”

“The center.”

“I don’t even know what that means, but it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t ready to share it, Gemma. You kind of revealed my psychic abilities against my will.” And ah, there was the anger I’d been searching for on Friday morning. It flared to life, sending heat into my face. “It really sucked and has quite frankly made the last few days of my life incredibly stressful.” My grip tightened on my plastic cup, and beads of coffee bubbled up from beneath the lid.

Gemma’s shoulders drooped. She tucked her hands in her lap, and her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I just thought that if I had an amazing gift like yours, I’d want everyone to know.” She pulled out her phone. “I can take it down.”

Ugh. That was too endearing. I should be mad at this kid, but all I could muster was a slight annoyance, and that was outweighed by a protective instinct. Like Gemma was an energetic kitten that had clawed the furniture, but you could only stare at her and coo despite your couch being ruined.

“No,” I said on a sigh. “It’s too late. Just… can you block the comments?”

“Yes. I’ll do it right now.” She opened her ClickClack account and tapped a few settings. “Comments are frozen, and I’ll go through and delete the mean ones later.”

“Thanks. And next time, for someone else, could you just… think before you post?”

“Yes. I will. I’m sorry, Cam.” She ducked her head, sheepish. “For that I’ll offer my services free of charge.”

It was my turn to blink. I hadn’t even considered that Gemma might charge me a fee. I mean, I guess I should’ve? She had actual business cards, after all. “Okay. Sounds like a deal.”

“I’d suggest we shake on it, but your glimpses are triggered by touch.”

Right. Glimpses. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“You’re lucky. I read about a clairvoyant from the 1700s who had glimpses triggered by smells . I mean, smell is the sense most connected to memory, but could you imagine?”

My lips twisted into a wry smile. “Yeah. I can. Pretty clearly, in fact.”

“Oh. Right.”

Val appeared with Gemma’s “usual,” which consisted of a drink with entirely too much whipped cream and caramel drizzle, along with a massive piece of pie. “We’re even, you little ghoul.”

“Agreed,” Gemma said. “For now.”

Val pursed her lips and stalked off, muttering under her breath.

“I caught her sneaking in after curfew,” Gemma said as explanation. “I didn’t say anything to our mom because Val is technically an adult, and I don’t care what she does. But don’t tell her that. Because I don’t want my access to this shop’s pie cut off.”

“You blackmail your sister?”

“Yes. That’s what siblings are for.”

“Okay.” Apparently I’d been doing sibling relationships wrong for my entire life. Well, maybe I had, since Aiden wasn’t talking to me, and at least Val and Gemma were on speaking terms. I pulled off a piece of muffin. It crumbled unappetizingly onto my plate, leaving a blueberry smear on the porcelain. “So are you going to tell me why the Sprite Alliance and the Psychic Guild have sent me gifts?”

“Oh!” Gemma said around a mouthful of strawberry and cream. “Right. So seers are extremely rare.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Okay. Great.” She leaned in, her elbows on the table. “And they are powerful allies. Think about it—you’re a member of the Shady Hallow Coven of Witches & Warlocks, and you need an uninterrupted supply of specific ingredients to brew your bestselling potion. If you have a seer on your side, you’ll know if a sudden drought is going to affect your supply chain. It’s the same concept if you are part of the Shady Hallow and Sunny Peak Combined Werewolf Family or the New Amsterdam Suburb chapter of the Sprite Alliance. Seers can tell you any number of things that can assist your members. Also, they are great alarm systems—you know, in case tensions between the groups escalate.”

My stomach dropped. My unease must’ve been apparent in my expression, because Gemma quickly continued.

“What? Don’t act so surprised. It happens. Usually it’s instigated by humans, but as you experienced in the hallway, other groups have their centuries-old beefs. And if a seer is allied with someone other than your faction, then they—well, know more than you do and have an advantage.”

I froze. That was why Al’s mothers were mad. They’d lost whatever perceived advantage they’d had from Al and I being BFFs once the knowledge of my existence was out to the whole paranormal community. In their eyes, Al had prioritized me and my life-changing revelation over their own coven. No wonder Al had been conflicted, especially if their mothers had grounded them for it. But Al hadn’t spoken to me since Friday morning. Did that mean they’d chosen not to be my friend now? Or did that mean I’d have to choose to ally with the coven in order to continue my friendship with them? Would that mean I couldn’t be friends with anyone else who was a member of a paranormal faction?

I took a large gulp of my coffee to soothe my suddenly parched throat. “But what if I don’t want to ally with any of the factions?”

“You’ll want to. For the perks and the protection.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Protection?”

“Yeah,” Gemma said, shoveling in another bite of pie. “Why do you think all the different paranormal entities have coalesced into groups?”

“For the group health insurance?”

“Safety in numbers. It’s not wise to be on your own.”

A cold blanket of fear settled over my shoulders like a shroud. “Can I ally with more than one group?”

Gemma squinted at me. “That’s a good question, but that’s not the way it’s done. Werewolves don’t ally with faeries, and faeries aren’t interested in allying with sprites, and so on and so forth. They might be friendly with one another, but when push comes to shove, they’re not friends. I guess you’d fit best with the Psychic Guild, but the last verified seer in this community wanted nothing to do with them. She allied with the witches.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gemma heaved a sigh and set down her fork. “Look, Cam. I get it. You were on the outside looking in for your entire life. So I’m not going to fault you for not knowing basic information. But you have to at least try to follow along.”

I bit down on every unkind word I wanted to say and let Gemma continue.

“If you are a verified seer, you will need to pick a faction and ally with them. There will be a contract where you get cool stuff or, like, money for your services, and then you use your ability for the profit or protection or prestige of that group only . You ally with the witches, you only work for the witches. No one else. It’s tradition.”

“Okay. Why and how did this tradition come about?”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “Like I said, protection . You’ll learn this if you take Paranormal History and Society I and II as electives, which I highly suggest you do, but back in the day, seers were often… you know? Um…”

And this worried me. Gemma had been blunt to a fault up until that point. Why would she hedge now? “What? Seers were what?”

“Kidnapped. Or killed. Depending on the circumstances.”

“Are you serious ?”

“Deadly,” she said, perking up with a bright smile. “But that was a long time ago.”

My stomach churned. “But what if I’m not a verified seer? That changes things, right? Like, if I don’t document two more accurate glimpses…”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a seer at all. Just that your psychic ability isn’t as valuable as if you did. The factions will probably back off. But you’ll still want to consider joining the Psychic Guild just for the training and, like I said, the perks. I think the Guild offers tuition assistance and can even help you run your own small business if you want. Like, it’s not a bad deal.”

“What if I don’t want to do any of it?”

Gemma’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?” she asked with absolute incredulity.

“I mean, what if I want to be normal Cam instead of paranormal Cam? Is there a way to opt out of all this?”

“Um… I guess… if you want to? Well, just don’t have any more glimpses. And if you do, don’t document them, so no one will ever know if you are a seer or not.”

I gave her a pointed look. “Like if someone hadn’t uploaded a video of me to ClickClack?”

Gemma had the grace to look contrite. “Yeah. Something like that. Anyway, whichever decision you make, you need to do it quickly. Or the gifts will keep coming, and then the requests for meetings will follow. Think of it as, like, you’re a super big athletic talent, and all the colleges want you on their team.”

“Um… that seems like a lot.”

Gemma continued, “Well, it’s not like all the different paranormal organizations will want to meet with you. Only the regional ones, most likely. The vampires and the cryptids don’t have chapters here because their members have congregated elsewhere. And they already have clairvoyants on their staff in the big cities. The local faery grove probably won’t want to either, since they usually stay out of all the faction drama. Pretty smart, if you ask me. We’re talking the groups like I mentioned before. The sprites, the witches, and the werewolves. And the Shady Hallow chapter of the Psychic Guild.”

“Faeries?” My brain was overloaded. All I could manage was to repeat the word that had stuck out the most from what Gemma had said in her information vomit.

“Yeah.” She opened a large notebook and flipped through a few pages. “Not to be confused with sprites. Faeries are immortal magical beings who utilize bargain magic and are fairly removed from the rest of paranormal society. They prefer to keep to themselves, and rumor is that there aren’t many of them left. Sprites are mortal magical beings who utilize nature magic and are literally everywhere.” She flipped the book around so I could see the pages and pages of lore she’d written. Then she turned in her seat and jutted her chin toward a group in the corner. “Those ladies in the corner are definitely a shimmer of sprites.”

“They sent me a gift basket.”

She pointed at me and made a clicking noise with her tongue. “That they did.”

“What do I do with it? With any of the gifts? Do I return them? Or…”

“Oh!” She waved her hand. “Enjoy them. The factions know that you’ll get something from everyone, and they don’t expect you to give the gifts back if you don’t ally with them. No worries. It’s all part of the custom.”

“Then why did you tell me not to ride the new bike?”

She grinned. “To see if you would listen to me.” She pointed her fork at me. “I needed to know your character before I decided to work with you for real. I know I’m younger than you, but I know things, and you have to trust me.”

“You’re tricky,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“You have to be as a human obsessed with the paranormal.”

Huh. That made an odd kind of sense. “Okay. I’ll keep an open mind. That doesn’t mean I’ll do everything you say, but I will appreciate and consider your input.”

Gemma beamed. “That’s all I ask.” She tapped her fork against her empty pie plate. “That and more pie.”

I laughed. She peered at me through her thick glasses.

Oh, she was serious. “Um… maybe next time. I need to head out.” While our meeting had been very enlightening on so many levels, it was time for me to go home and ruminate on everything Gemma had said. And text Al. I should text Al.

Gemma pushed out her lower lip in a pout. “Fine,” she said dramatically, which threw in stark relief that I was hinging a lot of my decisions on information from a freshman. A knowledgeable one, yes, but still a smol teen.

Speaking of. “Hey, did those girls who vandalized your locker get in trouble?”

“Yes. You were right. The hallway camera caught everything. And all three were suspended.”

Wait. Hallway cameras. All the hallways had them. Which meant there had to be video of the fight. The fight that triggered my first glimpse. The murderer would be in that video.

Gemma tilted her head to the side. “You look like smoke should be coming out of your ears.”

“Um… question.”

“Answer.”

“You’re resourceful. How would you go about getting video from one of those cameras?”

Gemma tapped the tines of her fork against her plate. “I have connections in the AV club. They could get it for me. Why?”

“I need to see video of the fight.”

“Your first glimpse.” She nodded as she stirred the melting whipped cream of her caramel concoction with her straw. “What did you see?”

“None of your business,” I snapped. I took a breath. “Sorry. It’s not something I want to talk about.”

Gemma held up a hand. “Okay. I’m guessing you don’t know who triggered it?”

“I don’t.”

She hummed. “Consider Gem-Jam on the case. I can also search for any videos that may pop up online. I’m sure someone filmed it.”

“Thanks. That would be very helpful.”

Gemma shot me a finger gun. “No problem, partner.”

Oh no. Partner? I mean, I guess we technically were. Maybe Gemma was more my life preserver while I was drowning, and once I was back on land, where everything made sense and I wasn’t navigating rules and social norms I didn’t understand, we’d go back to being casual acquaintances.

Anyway, it was time for me to go. I grabbed my iced mocha and stood. “Well, this has been fun, but—”

“Gem.”

Val’s voice, coming from behind me, pinged my already frayed nerves. I jumped and dropped my drink, the remnants of iced mocha splattering across the floor and the hem of my jeans, reminiscent of my first day of school.

“Crap,” Val said, stepping into my eyeline. “Ugh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh. No. It’s fine. I’ll just—” I grabbed a handful of napkins and dropped to my knees.

Val followed me to the floor. “No. Wait. I’ll get a mop.”

She reached out and loosely grasped my hand to stop me from spreading the mess around with the soggy napkins.

I was in a car. The shitty speakers fuzzed and buzzed a summer pop song. The heels of my stacked maroon boots crinkled the fast food wrappers that littered the floorboard. The scenery outside my cracked window blurred by as we drove through a popular commercial area. It was hot, but the wind whistling from the open windows offered a breeze as long as we were moving. And the rush of sound was a steady underlying hum to the music on the radio.

“I hate to admit it,” the driver said—a guy no older than twenty with spiked blue hair, who was wearing a muscle shirt—“but this song is a bop.” His arm rested on the edge of the car door, and his fingers drummed on the sun-faded plastic. “What do you think, babe?” He glanced over, his mouth pulled into a smirk.

I took a sip of my red slushie. “It’s fine. It’s no Metal Spike Baby, but it’s not bad.”

“Well, yeah. It’s no MSB. Nothing can top MSB.”

He reached over the console between us and grabbed my hand. He brought my fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

I giggled and tightened my grip as our joined hands dropped to rest between our seats.

“You’re such a sap, babe—watch out!” I screeched.

He dropped my hand and gripped the steering wheel, his foot ramming down on the brake. Our tires squealed. My seat belt snapped tight and hard across my chest, squeezing all air from my lungs as we thankfully slammed to a stop, barely missing the large dog that was running across the street. A leash trailed behind her, flapping along the asphalt.

My heart banged against my ribs.

And then our car lurched forward with the sound of crunching metal. My body whipped toward the dash, then backward, my head smacking against the head restraint.

Ow.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my boyfriend cursed, unbuckling and throwing open his door to yell at the person who had rear-ended us.

My eyes fluttered open to find Val staring at me with her blue eyes wide and a coffee-stained napkin in her hand.

“What the hell ?” she asked, her mouth hanging open. “Oh my gods. Are you that clairvoyant?”

I groaned as I pushed myself to my elbows. I was splayed on the floor of the coffee shop. My legs were curled beneath me as if I’d fallen backward from where I’d knelt. My gaze flicked to Gemma, who had her phone aimed at me.

“Really?” I asked.

Gemma shrugged. “For verification. If you want.”

“Are you okay?” Val asked. She reached out to help me, but I scrambled away, shoes slipping in my spilled mocha. Val curled her hands against her chest and shot a glare at her younger sister. “Gemma, put the phone down.”

“Fine,” Gemma said with a roll of her eyes, tapping on her screen.

I pulled myself back to my chair and sat on it heavily. “I’m fine,” I said, leaning against the curved spindled back, arms hanging at my sides, legs pushed out, like a rag doll propped clumsily for a little kid’s pretend teatime.

“Are you sure?” Val asked. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just asking Gemma if she wanted a ride, because my shift is over soon, and my boyfriend is coming to pick me up.”

“Wear a seat belt,” I said.

Val nodded slowly. “I always do. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I gave a weak thumbs-up. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“I’m going to get a mop and a new coffee for you.” She held out her hands awkwardly. “Just don’t slide out of your seat. I’ll be right back.” She all but ran to the counter.

Gemma raised her phone and focused it on me again. “What did you see? For documentation purposes only. I promise I won’t share it on social media unless you want me to.”

I rubbed my brow. “Your sister’s boyfriend slams on his brakes and doesn’t hit a dog running across the street. But they get rear-ended.”

“Any other details?”

“They’re listening to a pop song. And her boyfriend kisses her knuckles like he’s Mr. Darcy and she’s Lizzy Bennet.”

Gemma grinned. “Oh, that is so going to ruin her cred. She’s going to owe me so much pie.”

I hid my face in my hands. While I was happy for Gemma’s future, which would apparently involve copious amounts of pie, I was even more conflicted about my own.