Beeler's car. She remembered them taking her upstairs and undressing her and putting her to bed. After that she'd had hours of wonderful not-thinking.
And now she was awake and rested and her head was clear. She knew exactly what she had to do even before she swung her legs out from under the covers.
She glanced at the ancient Snoopy clock on her nightstand and got a shock. Twelve thirty-five. No wonder she was rested.
Efficiently, without making a sound, she put on Levis and a gray sweatshirt. No makeup. She ran a comb once through her hair.
She paused, then, to listen. Not just to the house, but to herself. To the world inside her own brain.
Dead quiet. Not a creature stirring. Not that that meant a thing, of course.
Gillian knelt and pulled the shoe box out from under her bed. The wax dolls were garish, red and green, like a hideous parody of Christmas. Her first impulse at the sight of that poisonous green was to get rid of it. Snap off one doll's hand and the other's head.
But what that would do to Tanya and Kim, she didn't want to think. Instead, she forced herself to get a Q-tip from the bathroom, soak it in water, and dab the iridescent green powder away.
She cried as she did it. She tried to concentrate as she had when she'd done the spell, seeing the real Tanya's hand, seeing it heal and become whole.
"Now may I be given the power of the words of Hecate," she whispered. "It is not I who utter them, it is not I who repeat them; it is Hecate who utters them, it is she who repeats them."
When the powder was off, she put the dolls back in the box. Then she blew her nose and rummaged through the pile on her desk until she found a small pink-flowered address book.
She sat on the floor crosslegged, dragged the phone close, and thumbed through the book.
There.
Daryl Novak's cellular phone number.
She dialed quickly and shut her eyes. Answer. Answer.
"Hello," a languid voice said.
Her eyes flew open. "Daryl, this is Gillian. I need you to do me an enormous favor, and I need you to do it now. And I can't even explain why-"
"Gillian, are you okay? Everybody's been worried about you."
"I'm fine, but I can't talk. I need you to go find Amy Nowick; she's got"-Gillian thought frantically-"uh, honors chemistry this period. I need you to tell her to drive to the corner of Hazel and Applebutter Street and wait for me there."
"You want her to leave school?"
"Right now. Tell her I know it's a lot to ask, but I need this. It's really important."
She expected questions. But instead, all Daryl said was, "Leave it to me. I'll find her."
"Thanks, Daryl. You're a lifesaver."
Gillian hung up and found her ski jacket. Tucking the shoe box under her arm, she walked very quietly downstairs.
She could hear voices from the kitchen. A low voice-her dad's. Part of her wanted to run to him.
But what would her parents do if they saw her? Keep her safe and bundled up, keep her here. They wouldn't understand what she had to do.
There was no question of telling them the truth, of course. That would just get her another shot. And, eventually, maybe a visit to the mental hospital where her mother had stayed. Everyone would think
delusions ran in the family.
She moved stealthily to the front door, quietly opened it, slipped out.
Sometime during the night it had rained and then frozen. Ice hung like dewdrops from the twigs of the hickory tree in the yard.
Gillian ducked her head and hurried down the street. She hoped no one was watching, but she had the feeling of eyes staring from between bare branches and out of shadows.
At the comer of Hazel and Applebutter she stood with her arms wrapped around the box, hopping a little to keep warm.
It's a lot to ask...
It was a lot to ask, especially considering the way she'd treated Amy recently. And it was funny, considering all the new friends she'd made, that it was Amy she turned to instinctively when she was in trouble.
But... there was something solid and genuine and good in Amy. And Gillian knew that she would show up.
The Geo swung around the corner and skidded to a stop. Typical Amy-without-glasses driving. Then Amy was jumping out, her face turned anxiously toward Gillian's. Her blue eyes were huge and seemed luminous with tears.
And then they were hugging and crying. Both of them.
"I'm so sorry. I've been so rotten this last week-"
"But I was rotten to you before that-"
"I feel awful. You have every right to be mad at me-"
"Ever since I heard about the accident, I've been so worried."
Gillian pulled back. "I can't stay. I don't have time. And I know how this sounds coming from somebody who hit a pole last night... but I need your car. For one thing, I've got to go see David."
Amy nodded, blotting her eyes. "Say no more."
"I can drop you off at home-"
"It's the wrong way. It won't hurt me to walk. I want to walk."
Gillian almost laughed. The sight of Amy dabbing her face with her muffler and stamping her foot on the icy sidewalk, determined to walk, warmed her heart.
She hugged her again, fast. "Thank you. I'll never forget it. And I'll never be the terrible person I've been to you again, at least-"
She broke off and got in the car. She'd been about to finish the sentence "-at least, if I live through this."
Because she wasn't at all sure that she would.
But the first thing was to get to David.
She had to see him with her own eyes. To make sure he was all right... and that he was himself.
She gunned the motor and set out for Houghton.
Chapter 14
She got David's room number from a receptionist at the front desk. She didn't ask if she was allowed to visit.
All Gillian could think as she walked down the hall was, Please. Please, if David was only all right, there was a chance that everything could work out.
At the door she stopped and held her breath.
Her mind was showing her all sorts of pictures. David in a coma, hooked up to so many tubes and wires that he was unrecognizable. Worse, David alive and awake and smiling... and looking at her with violet eyes.
She knew what Angel's plan had been. At least, she thought she knew. The only question was, had he succeeded?
Still holding her breath, she looked around the door.