School Spirits - By Rachel Hawkins Page 0,6

we were standing on a paved road.

Well, Mom was standing. I was on my knees, gasping. The portal was always rough on me.

Mom helped me to my feet, but that was clearly all the TLC I was going to get. As soon as I was steady, she started walking down the road.

“Where are we?” I asked, following.

“Alabama,” she replied.

I didn’t ask what part of Alabama, but between the sand and the slight tang of salt on the wind, I guessed we were somewhere near the beach. We hadn’t been walking long when we came across a path of crushed shells. Mom turned onto it, her boots crunching and sounding too loud in the quiet.

At the end of the driveway was a small, one-story house that actually looked a little bit like our place. An ancient Jeep was parked just by the front porch, and several sets of wind chimes twisted in the breeze.

The screen door creaked open, and a woman stepped out, squinting down the drive at us. She seemed to be about ten years or so older than my mom, and her dark blond hair, shot through with gray, was piled on top of her head in a messy knot. Her arms, bare in a black tank top, were pale and flabby. Roughly a dozen necklaces and pendants hung around her neck, and she held a coffee cup in her right hand. “Ash?” she asked, frowning at us.

“Maya,” Mom returned. She gestured at me. “Mind if me and Izzy come in for a bit?”

Maya glanced over, seeming to notice me for the first time. I raised my hand in a tiny wave. “Hi.”

Maya didn’t wave back, but sighed and said, “Too early in the morning for Brannicks.” Then she turned and walked back into the house.

I dug a little hole in the shells with the tip of my boot. “Does that mean we should go?”

To my surprise, Mom just chuckled. “No. If Maya hadn’t wanted us here, trust me, she would have let us know.”

“Who is she?” I asked, but Mom didn’t answer; just trudged up the steps and into the house.

And after a long moment, I followed.

The house wasn’t quite as spartan as our place, but it still wasn’t what anyone would call homey. No pictures lined the walls, although Maya did have one of those crazy cat clocks, the swinging tail marking off seconds, its eyes darting back and forth like it was watching for something. The only other things of note were a sagging couch covered in an ugly orange-and-brown plaid and a crooked coffee table. But that wasn’t what had me freezing in the doorway. Instead of magazines or heavy books, the coffee table was covered in…feet. Not human feet—at least I didn’t see any—but half a dozen chickens’ feet, several of those rabbit’s foot key chains, and a brown, furry paw. Char marks dotted the table’s scarred surface, and there was a cracked leather book lying open facedown, its pages wrinkled. Everything about it screamed magic, but I hadn’t sensed anything when we came in, so I didn’t think Maya could be Prodigium. Maybe she was just a… taxidermist or something. Mom had made some weird friends over the years.

And she must’ve been here before, because she didn’t even blink at the bizarre collection. But she did lean in and whisper, “Don’t say anything until I tell you to, okay? And don’t take anything Maya gives you to drink.”

I tried very hard not to gulp. “Got it.”

Sure enough, Maya came out of the kitchen holding three mugs, steam rising off of them. Even across the room, the smell turned my stomach. Still, Mom accepted two cups before sitting on the couch. I sat next to her as Maya took a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table. She was wearing a long skirt, and it jangled softly when she moved, as though there were bells hidden in its folds.

“So you’re Izzy,” she said, blowing the top of her drink. “Your mama brought Finley here plenty of times, but she always said you were too young to go out on jobs. How old are you now, thirteen?”

I had always looked younger than I was. “I’ll be sixteen next month,” I told her, and she gave a low whistle. “My, my, time is flying. When I first met you, Ash, Izzy was what? Five? Maybe six? It was right after her daddy died, and—”

“We didn’t come here to chat, Maya,” Mom broke in.