‘Nope,’ I said, kicking the door open and shoving myself through. ‘She’s doing something with Josephine.’ My scalp tingled when I said her name.
Vincent raised his brows. ‘The girl from the audition?’
‘Yep.’
My scalp tingled again, growing rapidly into an annoying itch. I pressed the side of my head into my shoulder, trying to scratch without dropping the garbage bags. Vincent watched me with amused curiosity.
‘Problems?’ he asked through quirked lips.
I tried using the other shoulder. The itch just seemed to spread. ‘Hugo’s got to stop buying that cheap crap shampoo.’
Vincent thrust another bag into my chest. ‘What, discount brand not good enough for you, pretty boy? Next you’ll be asking for body wash and those loofah things my girlfriend uses.’
‘At least I take showers,’ I said with a broad grin. ‘You should try it sometime. Really helps with the smell.’
I tucked the bag under my arm and hurried down the steps before Vincent retaliated with more trash. The door clanged shut behind me. So maybe I was sans plans for the weekend, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t feeling particularly social. With all the weirdness I’d been experiencing lately, along with my teetering emotions, the thought of a couple of days away from everybody at school was pretty appealing.
My feet crunched over the gravel, and the sound echoed off the concrete walls. The lane was wide enough for a car, but the building on one side and the hedge of thick pine trees on the other made it feel enclosed, even stifling. The only illumination came from a sickly orange streetlight teetering precariously from a post.
The glow reminded me of the bonfire in my recurring image. And at that moment, I realized something: I hadn’t seen a single flash of it since lunch. Since I’d realized Josephine was the girl. Another mystery solved, I decided, as I closed the distance between the shop and the garbage area. I’d obviously seen Josephine’s picture somewhere – probably at Katie’s – since they were apparently good friends.
In other words, I was cured of the whatever-it-was – which should’ve been a relief – but I wasn’t totally back to normal. My insides hadn’t felt right since the afternoon before, not to mention my throbbing back, the unexplained slivers of gray hair I’d kept carefully hidden, and the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about Josephine Romany, no matter how hard I tried.
Or how many chores I hid behind on a perfectly decent Friday evening.
I heaved the garbage bags over the side of the dumpster, determined to ask Hugo for a raise. Maybe his little Gypsy clan wasn’t rich, but I figured enduring the dumpster smell was worth some extra cash. With my hands free, I could finally dig them into my hair for a decent scratch, but my head wasn’t tingling anymore. Or maybe I just wasn’t thinking about it because of the repugnant smell of the alley. I sniffed, wondering when the stench had gotten so bad. It was enough to clear my sinuses. I brushed my sleeve disgustedly across my nose and turned around to head back to the shop.
Then I heard it: a shuffling sound from the other end of the alley. It wasn’t unusual for someone to be behind the building, dumping trash or breaking down boxes. But it wasn’t the sound that bothered me. My skin began to crawl, and the base of my skull throbbed to the rhythm of my steadily quickening pulse. The atmosphere around me felt suddenly dark.
Very, very dark.
I pressed my back against the cold metal and peered around the dumpster. The building was black and ominous. Under the feeble light the rows of doors gaped at me like hollow, fathomless eyes. The alley was deserted.
‘Hello?’ I called out into the darkness.
The only reply was the creaking of an old pine tree as a breeze chilled the October air.
My breath spewed out in white puffs. I set my jaw to stop my chattering teeth, and pushed myself away from the trash bin, eyeing the back door of the shop.
A shadow passed across the alley. No, it was more than a shadow. It was like smoke; blackened and thickly curled. It crept along the ground, clinging to the gravel and trash, enveloping the road. It could’ve been fog, but it moved too quickly. As if it had some kind of purpose.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair. The line from Macbeth ran through my head as I watched the mist slither closer, leaving a translucent trail. Hover through the fog and filthy air.
The air seemed to whisper jumbled sounds; like many voices speaking to me at once…none distinguishable or pleasant. My blood dropped to subzero levels. I could feel my heart crashing against my ribcage. I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The mist continued to roll towards me, gaining in breadth until it stretched the width of the alley.
The door to the shop seemed a hundred miles away.
The smoke rose and hovered above me like a storm cloud. I could feel energy swirling inside it; a presence; alive and vibrant, propelling it downward. It drifted against my skin, cold and warm. I crouched, digging my shoes into the mucky ground, ready to make a run for the door. Then a strange female voice whispered in my ear.
We’ve found you…
I shot forward, propelling myself across the alley. But I didn’t get far. A gust of wind slammed into me like a freight train. The impact ripped the air from my lungs. I ricocheted off the dumpster and skidded, face first, across the dirt. Gravel sliced my palms, tore at my knees. My head rattled. Darkness invaded my vision. I felt my body trying to stand, to right itself, but I was losing consciousness. Something registered through the fog: a door banging open. I choked, gasping for oxygen as I crumpled to the ground.
I wasn’t sure how long I lay in the slosh and grime of the alley. I heard the scratching of an animal in the dumpster and the buzzing of the streetlight. But time itself passed out of reach and beyond my comprehension.
Then, arms were around me, lifting me from the ground. Vincent’s hard, lean face was close to mine, his dark eyes worried. I could smell his sweat and the hint of teriyaki on his breath.
‘Are you hurt?’ He sounded scared. ‘What happened to you?’
‘S-something…’, my throat felt coated with sand, ‘…attacked me.’
‘Attacked you?’ Vincent released me and jogged a few paces down the alley. His head twisted back and forth as he examined the road. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed. His form was blurry. I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. He returned and knelt beside me. ‘Are you sure, Sebastian? There’s no one out here.’
‘It was…’ The words didn’t make it past my teeth. The wind? I glanced at the scraggly pine branches swaying in the breeze. Then I noted the slimy tracks I’d left across the ground. Had I slipped, lost my balance in the mud? I looked at Vincent through narrowed eyes. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Looking for you,’ he replied. He didn’t meet my gaze; he was staring somewhat awkwardly at my hair. I brushed it out of my face as he continued. ‘You’ve been gone almost half an hour.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Come on,’ he said quickly, ‘let’s get you inside.’
He helped me to my feet. My palms itched and my right temple throbbed, but the rest of me seemed to be in working order. My lungs felt clear, and there was no trace of the mist anywhere in the alley. I glanced dubiously over my shoulder. Had I imagined it? Already, the details of what just happened felt fuzzy in my head. We entered the shop, and Kris glanced up from the counter. His eyes widened as he looked at me.
‘Um, your hair’s gray.’
I stared at him. ‘What?’
Vincent grabbed a mirror from the counter. I flipped it over