Shadowed (Unbound, Book 2)

Chapter Thirty Two

           

The end credits scrolled down the screen and I breathed a sigh of relief. The thoughts in my head required a list, and if I pulled out a pen and paper here, Duvessa was bound to ask questions. Now, at least, enough time had passed to suggest it is time to go without seeming rude about it.

"Want to watch something else?" she asked, using the remote to turn the movie off. She tilted her head sideways to look at me. "We have The Covenant."

"You have a thing for witchcraft or something?"

"Or something." She grinned, nodding. She pointed the remote at the television. "You game?"

"Actually, I'm pretty tired," I said, faking a yawn, "and Devland is probably waiting for me at home. If the school called, he'll be worried."

"The final bell just rang like, a half hour ago. I doubt he's even thought about you enough yet to start worrying."

Except if the school called about my absences, I thought, but didn't say it aloud. "I'm not up for another movie." She opened her mouth and I rushed to add, "You asked what it's like to forget everything. Aside from the obvious, it's exhausting. I last a few hours at a time, but then it becomes a struggle to stay awake."

"Ever try coffee?"

"Ever try...?" I'd be jumping at leaving, not being glib if there was a chance my ride home could fall asleep at the wheel. I shook my head and stood, and started walking towards the door. By the time I made it halfway, she was at my side, and I stopped. "It's not just physical, Duvessa. The harder I push, the louder the drums pounding in my head get, and the only way around that is to sleep."

I held her gaze, not even blinking. Was it really so hard to understand? Or did she just not care? At this rate, with every new face I encountered raising more and more doubts, I would be better off flying solo until it returned or I went to college and made new friends—whichever came first.

My eyes burned, forcing me to blink. Duvessa exhaled in unison with the open and shut of my eyelids like she'd been holding it in, waiting until she could determine my reaction. I was too confused to put a name to how I felt. Anger quickly replaced my puzzlement, then suddenly I was tired of accepting another time at face value.

"There's probably shrinks or medication that could help you," she said, shrugging. "But it is obvious Dr. Stanzo alone isn't enough. Maybe you could combine the two for added effect?"

"Or everyone could stop hiding crap from me and help my memories to return. You know, trigger them?" I pointed to the right. "What's behind the curtain, Duvessa?"

Her smarmy smile faded into a thin line pinched at the corners of her mouth. "I told you—"

"Another time?" I nodded. "Yeah, I got it." I held her gaze for a minute. Then I took a deep breath and nodded, stepping away as I called over my shoulder, "Not good enough."

"Nora—"

I grabbed the curtain at the center folds where the fabric overlapped, and yanked it open. My mouth dropped. I took a step backwards, glanced at Duvessa over my shoulder, and then back to what had been revealed. Then I did it again.

"I, uh. Nora—"

"What? You can explain?" I turned completely to stare at her, but pointed behind me. "Why is there some sort of altar here? Do you like, worship the devil?"

Duvessa laughed. "Hardly." She walked past me to the altar draped with a black cloth and picked up a silver knife with gemstones in its hilt. Holding it up for me to see, flashes of color reflected off the wall under the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. "It's the Craft, Nora. We don't worship the devil."

"The Craft is a movie," I said, rolling my eyes. "But in case you didn't notice, they weren't all good. Besides, it isn't real."

She set the knife down and walked around the table so her back was to the wall, but she still faced me. She waved her hand over the other items arranged on top with the knife: a golden cup, some candles, incense and a bowl. "This is real, Nora. Magic, supernatural, witchcraft? Everything you think you know is impossible. It's the movie that's unreal. That is so not how magic works."

"You know you're crazy, right?"

Everything that had been hidden was nuts, from the table in the center to the statues lining the back wall. Ancient gods, though I couldn't discern their features carved from stone. Duvessa believing in all this nonsense was ludicrous. That was what I felt was impossible—her obvious delusion.

"It's time to go," I told her, pivoting on my heel to turn and face the door.

"Wait! I can prove it."

I kept walking. "Parlor tricks are for magicians, Duvessa. Come on. If you want me to drive you home, we're leaving."

"Just... wait."

The doorknob turned with a twist of my hand but didn't open. I looked down, and my breath hitched. The deadbolt turned, clicking into place without having been touched. The only other explanation, a key used from the other side, was absent. No scratching or tell-tale snick as a key slid in or out, and no shadow leaking through the crack at the bottom to prove somebody had been there to use one.

"Believe me now?"