Chapter Twenty Five

The Road to Veda

Salinger

“I didn't know you were capable of this level of drama,” a calm voice said in my ear. It was my Ata, and he didn't think what was going on was the least bit funny.

“Why not?” I muttered, still half gone.

“Because you've never given me a scare,” he answered drolly.

“Is Veda awake?” I asked.

“How would we know? Remy, can you call Intarsia?”

My head was still spinning. “What happened? How did you guys find me?”

“Clementine sent us here to get you,” he said as he pulled me into a sitting position. “I had to break a window to get in. That's why this is so dramatic. Remy cut himself on the way in. He needs stitches. I would have taken him to the hospital right away if I hadn't found you, dead.”

“I was dead?”

“You were very dead,” my father said, his voice deadpan. “You had no pulse and you were cold.”

“Then, how did you save me?”

“I write these books, son. I broke the spell the book had on you.”

“How did you do that?” I asked incredulously.

Remy hung up the phone with one hand. He has a wad of paper towel wrapped around his other hand. The blood was seeping through. After depositing his phone in his back pocket, he explained, “He pulled the book off you, and punched you in the face. What do you think he did? It saved your life. You took a wheezing breath in and you were saved.” He paused to answer the first question. “Veda is asleep.”

I gazed at my father and the grave look on his face. I threw my arm around his neck and he caught me in the sort of hug we gave each other. This was what Veda didn’t have. I had to find a way to give it to her. I pulled away.

“How bad is Remy?” I asked, looking at my least favorite cousin.

“He's bad. He needs a doctor to check his tendons. I'd take you to a doctor too, except that you're fine. I thought you would be smarter than to let yourself get killed in a book.”

I would have liked to explain what happened then, but it was not the time. I pushed myself to my feet. I blacked out a bit when I got up to my full height. Two steps later, I could see again.

Out in the front, I found the window they broke. It was the first one beside the doors Zellica had enchanted. Her magic that locked me inside, hadn't lasted long or spread far. It was already fading, but the magic in the scarf was a different kind of magic all together.

I touched the wool. It uncurled itself and fell on the floor as if it had never been as tight as iron.

I picked it up. It was obvious that part of the scarf was not present. There were places at one end that had big loops that should never have been there if there wasn't something holding them in that shape. On the end that existed in our world, Veda had made tassels. I sat down on the floor where I was and started pulling them out. Bits of yarn littered the carpet around me.

“Hospital time?” Remy prompted, coming up behind me.

“Shh,” Ata told him. “This is why he died in that book. So he could get here, and do this. It won't take long. This kind of magic takes months to make and minutes to unravel. He'll finish soon. If you pass out, I'll give you a transfusion myself.”

Remy chuckled. “I knew I missed my family.”

I undid the last tassel and the makings of it lay on the carpet. Only partway finished, I started undoing the knot that held the rest of the scarf together.

A car pulled up to the store and the headlights nearly blinded me. Hours had passed and night had fallen. The rev of the engine sounded more menacing than a wolf howling in the wild.

“It's Antony,” I said.

“How do we keep him out?” Remy asked, kicking shards of broken glass and staring at the open window.

“We don't,” my father said, pulling me to my feet by my armpits. “We'll go out the back.”

I followed him. The back door swung open. We snuck around the building, keeping our heads low until we got to Ata's truck. He had driven all the way to Edmonton? I saw Antony moving through the store.

Once we were in the truck, I saw him through the gaps between the posters in the front. He had Pearl's backpack with Veda's books inside. Then he knelt and picked up the scraps of yarn I had left. Panic surged through me.

“I left the books and the yarn! We have to go back!”

“Leave them,” Remy said as if in a trance. “Undo the scarf.”

I stared at him. He was possessed. June’s words came back to me about how he was like Veda’s father. It was him talking through Remy.

“Undo it!” the spirit inside Remy commanded.

Ata sparked the engine and we were driving.

I tried to undo that one knot, maybe the only knot in the whole thing, but I couldn't do it. “Ata, give me your knife.”

“You'll have to get it out of my boot,” he said, and I had to crawl over Remy to reach it. It was not an easy job and the constant bumps and turns didn't help anything. Finally, I got the knife, got off Remi, and straightened myself. I opened the knife (putting everyone in the vehicle in peril since my father was the one driving). The yarn broke and bounced slightly as I severed it. I pulled and the delicate knit unraveled.

Remy caught the end and started winding it between his two hands.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” I asked.

“I should keep my hand elevated,” he replied coolly, sounding like himself. Was the spirit of Veda’s father gone already?

I pulled the scarf apart.

It wasn't all the way unraveled when we pulled up to the emergency room of a hospital. Ata pulled the yarn off Remy's hands. “I'll do it. You go inside.” He got out and let Remy out. “We'll come in when we're finished.”

That was how Veda's connection with her mother was cut, outside a hospital on a summer day probably meters from where Veda was born. My father held the gray yarn between his hands while I ripped apart the only dream of the girl I loved.

Finally, the yarn was nothing but a coil of string.

“I think I have to go back to Cold as Stone,” I told my Ata. “I have to get the yarn scraps and Veda’s books back from Antony.”

My father rubbed the yarn between his fingers. “I think all the spirit energy has left this stuff. I think it's safe to say that the rest of the yarn has no power. However, the books are dangerous. If we had not come, the one you were reading would have killed you. If that boy reads them, don't you think they will hurt him too?”

“They're not dangerous.”

Stolen story; please report.

“The one you were reading was toxic. I could feel it in the pages when I tore it off you. If that boy reads that book, I think he will have a similar fate.”

I shook my head. “That book is engineered for you to kill the girl in it as a mercy killing. Killing her is the only way to get out of it. I refused that route and killed myself instead. Antony has already read it and he chose to kill her. I don't think the book will hurt him if he reads it and instead, I think he will kill her again. She's there, really there, in the book. I have to go back.”

“Well, then let's go,” Ata said. He was about to put the truck in gear when suddenly, a woman was standing outside his mirror. Ata jumped.

I didn't. I leaned over and unrolled Ata's window since I recognized her. “Hattie, what are you doing here?”

She looked quickly in both directions like she was scared someone awful would see her. “Salinger, I need you to come with me. Right now. June is waiting for us in the car parked behind you. We have some magical items we need to give you.”

Ata and I got out of the truck and followed her to the vehicle behind. Hattie opened the back door for me and I saw an embellished box on the backseat. I opened it. It was a collection of books like the ones Pearl had taken from Antony, but from their beauty, they were Veda's best efforts.

“If he reads a different book, he can catch Veda’s soul when Antony murders her,” she explained.

“He needs a place to read,” Ata said behind me.

“The book cupboard in the hidden library has been compromised,” June said, not even hinting that the reason for that might have everything to do with me and my Ata. “We want to take him somewhere special. You're welcome to accompany him.”

“No. Remy is in the ER. He may need me. Salinger can get in touch with me whenever he wants.”

Ata patted my shoulder and, with a weary look, got back into his truck. I guessed he was going to park it.

I waved at him, and I thought he fanned his fingers against the steering wheel in reply, but I couldn't be sure. With me in the backseat, the backdoor of June's car suddenly slammed shut, when there was no one to physically slam it, and June's foot was on the gas. I looked between the two sisters. I didn't know which of the two had the power to move things with their minds.

“We’re not going far,” June said. “Use the time to choose which book to read.”

I tried to. It was dark, and it was hard to see. Within a few minutes, we pulled up in front of a spectacular house.

“Who lives here?” I asked as I hauled the box out of the backseat.

“Emi,” Hattie answered.

“Whoa! What are we doing here?”

“She's a powerful witch, not only that, but she is in a better position to be your friend just now than we are. We need to get back to Veda.”

“Besides,” Hattie chimed in. “You're going to be fine.”

They drove away before I rang the bell.

When the door swung open, Emi wasn't the one who answered, but a guy about my age. I knew it had to be her nephew, Evander, who was not at all magical, but who managed to write a book good enough to be made into an intricate spell book. I sort of hated him on sight, and not because he was significantly taller than me.

“Is Emi here?” I asked.

“No. She's out. We're babysitting,” he answered blankly like I had just woken him.

“I'm Salinger Meriwa, and I need a place to read. I'll just take up a spot in the corner if you don't mind. You won't even know I'm here. If you need a reference, you can call Emi. I'm sure she can vouch for me.”

“She's in Italy,” Evander replied, practically yawning.

Behind me was a blank, bleak, street. “I have nowhere else to turn and I really need a place to read. I'm here because of one of Emi's cousins, a girl named Veda. Do you know her?”

A spark of interest lighted Evander's face. “I don't know anything about Emi's cousins, except that they don't like her very much.”

“Yes, well, I am not one of them. As I said, I'm a Meriwa. I'm from Whitehorse and I'm not part of whatever skirmish Emi has with her witch coven. I've been to see Emi a couple of times at the art gallery. You're her nephew, Evander, right?”

“Yeah.”

Still wasn't good enough. I needed to say more to convince him. “She told me all about that book she enchanted for your girlfriend, Sarah. I'm having a little bit of a personal crisis with my girlfriend, Veda, and I need a place to read a book she wrote.”

A girl appeared at the door. She looked boring until she opened her eyes wide to look at me. Her eyes were bright green. It was so striking, I nearly dropped the box I was carrying.

She smiled. “Let him in already, Evander. If he's going to read a spell book, he'll be comatose in a corner, but he shouldn't be alone. He might need medical attention when he's finished.”

Evander gave her a look, but he opened the door and beckoned for me to enter.

“Thank you,” I said as I removed my shoes.

The green-eyed girl led me into the living room. “I'm Sarah. Your girlfriend is a witch? Will we get to meet her?”

I glanced around the room and my eyes landed on a photograph of Emi that was all black and white and raspberry. “She's a lot like that,” I said, pointing to the picture. “Except she’s prettier.”

Sarah gawked slightly. “How can that be possible?”

“Emi doesn't use glamor on her appearance. She's trying not to use her magic. Veda is a full-blown witch who does whatever she wants. Including, though not limited to, writing books.” I opened the lid of the box.

“Whoa! All these are spell books?” Sarah wondered.

“Probably.” I stopped talking. I thought I ought to tell her just one more thing. “I don't know exactly what happened to you when you read his book,” I said, pointing my chin at a still bored looking Evander. “But that was different from what these books are like. Emi made that book into a spell book, knowing it was safe. No one knows what is inside these books. It’s not an exaggeration to say that you could die reading one. When I start reading, it will be like you said. I’ll be comatose on the couch. I wouldn’t even be reading one if it wasn’t an emergency. If either of you read one of her other books while I’m reading, it could be your funeral.”

“I won't let her,” Evander piped up.

Sarah didn't look disappointed, or even like she was bothered. “Of course, we won't read them,” she said reassuringly. “I had second-degree burns on my feet after reading a chapter in Evander's book.”

I frowned. “What were you doing?”

“I stepped into a burning pyre, but don't worry about that. You said this was an emergency, so do what you need to do. We’ll call Emi and tell her you’re here, but...”

“But what?”

“Can I look at the covers?”

“I suppose.”

“Great!” Sarah took the box from my lap and started laying all the books out on the floor in a giant square. “These are so amazing. Did your girlfriend make all the covers herself?”

“I think so.”

“And she wrote all these books?” Evander said, timidly.

I nodded.

There were twenty-four books, four lines of six, once Sarah had finished arranging them. A few of them had unusual covers. I picked up one that had an orange circle on it. Once I examined it closely, I saw that the word Clementine was embroidered under the circle.

“I don't think this one is a spell book,” I said as I flipped open the cover. It was a journal regarding how Veda was going to help Clementine organize her life. Surprisingly, there was a lot about fencing.

“This book isn't a spell book. I need one that’s magical,” I said, placing it back in the box. I picked out any of the other books that I thought might be similar to the one about Clementine.

“Are there more that aren't spell books?” Evander asked me.

“Probably. I mean, you write. How many books did you write before you turned eighteen?”

“Four,” he promptly responded. Then he added, “But I wasn't trying very hard. I'm more interested in art.”

I let out a slow breath to restore my patience. I thought that I had tried hard to write since I wrote my book about the moss balls, but seeing how hard Veda had worked at writing and how hard Evander said he worked, I realized I hadn't tried at all. What had I spent my time doing? I knew. I had written to girls on the internet I wasn't actually planning on dating. I had gone to Remy's concerts and been jealous of his talent. I had watched my father work and wondered how I could be like him, without putting any effort into being like him at all.

It had only been since I had come to Edmonton, seen Veda, and realized that she needed more. So, I'd tried to be more, and I had been. I had fixed up Cold as Stone. I had given up my selfishness towards Intarsia and given her Remy, who I believed spoiled women for other men. I had helped Clementine. It turned out there had always been more of me to give. I had just never bothered to realize it.

Sarah started pulling aside all the books that did not have any decoration on the cover. “If you were to ask me,” she said. “These are probably personal journals.”

“Do any of these look weird?” I asked.

“They’re all weird,” Evander said. “Awesome, but weird.”

I zeroed in on a book that had a green semi-circle on it. It was bound in forest green leather with silky stitching that read Turtle Hill. It seemed harmless and an excellent place to start.

“This one,” I said, picking it up.

“That one?” Sarah and Evander said at the same time. Oddly enough, their expressions were exactly the same.

“Well, which one would you choose?”

She grabbed one that was navy blue with white lace on the cover that read Midnight in the Garden. He chose a black one with a huge crescent moon on the cover called Europa Crescent.

“Ya both like night, eh? I think I'll go with this one. It looks uplifting. I mean, who would write a book called Turtle Hill only to turn it into a horror story?”

Sarah gathered up the discarded books, while Evander sat in a chair. Then I saw him do something I'd never seen anyone do before. He sat in the chair, which he looked large enough to reasonably fill, but then he mushed himself into one corner of it, leaving a lot of space left. With his bulk, he shouldn't have been able to leave that much room. When Sarah was finished with the books, she got in the chair with him. Her legs crossed his and dangled over the edge.

It was sweet.