Light as a Feather, Silent as the Grave

Chapter 8

There was still the possibility that we'd be greeted by law officials when we landed at O'Hare airport, but for the next hour aboard our flight, we were free to talk openly while the other passengers on our sparsely populated flight watched television and listened to music with their headsets on.

"Why Chicago?" I asked Trey, wondering how he'd selected his destination when booking a flight with Coach Stirling's credit card (which he confirmed he had copied onto a piece of scrap paper when he'd found it in her glove compartment while working on her Cadillac during auto shop class). "I mean, if Michael Simmons is really trying to kill you, wouldn't it make sense to get further away from home?"

"Chicago's just a layover. You can't really get a direct flight out of Green Bay to anywhere good," he told me.

"Then, where next?" I asked.

"I was thinking about Alaska," he told me, surprising me in a way that made me feel a little bad. "This guy I met at Northern said he's going there after he turns eighteen. You can make decent money working on a fishing boat there, you know? It's dangerous, but if you're young and willing to work hard, it's okay."

I avoided making eye contact with the flight attendant as she walked past us down the aisle checking to see if anyone wanted water or coffee, and returned my attention to Trey. "You were seriously going to disappear to Alaska and not even tell me?" I asked.

Trey squirmed. "No! I mean, yes. But I was going to get in touch with you once I got there. I mean, do you have any better ideas?"

I remained silent, suddenly furious with him. He had really been planning to go all the way across the country without telling me. A few minutes passed, enough for him to know that he had hurt my feelings, before I said, "No. I don't have any ideas."

It was true. The future might as well have been a blank chalkboard. It didn't seem realistic for us to try to get to California somehow, to—what? Try and confront Mischa? I'd believed that the last advice we'd gotten from my sister's spirit on how to break the curse that Violet had cast on us was foolproof, and now I had no other leads. Even if Mischa was willing to cooperate with us (which I already knew was not the case), I wouldn't know what to try next. Our ignorant dabbling with magic had pretty much made the entire situation worse.

As it turned out, I didn't need any ideas. The universe had already decided our fate. When our plane landed and we de-boarded with our hearts in our throats, I turned my phone back on to text my father and let him know I'd arrived safely in Chicago. To my great surprise, I had a text message waiting for me. This was particularly impressive because theonly people with whom I'd shared this temporary number were my parents andHenry."

TODAY 2:17 PM

312-555-9722

Hi McKenna this is laura I don't know if you remember me.

TODAY 2:17 PM

312-555-9722

You came into the store where I work a few months ago. Anyway I texted your friend Henry because

TODAY 2:18 PM

312-555-9722

I had a feeling you would be in town at some point today and I'm downstairs by Baggage Claim C

"Hey!" I exclaimed to catch Trey's attention. "You're not going to believe this, but someone's here to pick us up."

Trey looked at me and with a deadpan expression said, "You're correct. I don't believe you."

I explained to him how Mischa, Henry and I had met Laura at the occult book store on Chicago's North Side when we'd been digging into Mrs. Simmons' past back in January after Trey had been sent back to school. It had irked me a few days ago when Henry mentioned that he and Laura had kept in touch, but now I was grateful that they had. Henry had said that the mirrors we used to contact all of Violet's past victims had continued to essentially broadcast messages from the dead, showing Laura images of trees on a regular basis. Maybe Laura was more invested in our little ghostly plight than anyone in their right mind should have been, but I didn't care; at least there was someone with a warm car waiting for us.