Unraveling Soren, Marisa Maichel [people reading books .TXT] 📗

fucking hate him for that.” He stared out the window. “By the way, was that a Bugatti Veyron I saw?”

“Probably,” I replied. “Alexander bought it for Mother as a wedding present.”

“I hate being poor,” he complained.

“You’re not poor,” I reminded him. “You’re thoroughly middle-class.”

“Screw you, Reese.” Then he turned pink. “Sorry. It’s just that Dad let Mom have all the money, but he kept me. Turn right here. Now pull into the third driveway on the left.”

I pulled into a shabby-chic house covered in pink trim and white paint. The garden overflowed with yellow and pink roses, and an angel stood guard by the birdfeeder. When I stepped out, I was stunned to see her finger move to her lips. She looked up at us.

“Riddle first,” she said. “I relieve constipation in small doses, but I am fatal otherwise. I am a plant that is found all over the world, except Antarctica and certain countries. What am I?”

“Belladonna, otherwise known as deadly nightshade,” Mason told her.

She smiled and gestured to the door. “You may pass.”

“What would happen if he’d answered incorrectly?” I asked the angel. She only smiled at me gently.

“At worst, we would not have been able to get through,” Mason responded. “If I’d answered incorrectly three times, she would have sliced my leg open.”

“And she does this for everyone?”

“Yes, except certain people who have been pre-approved by Ruth.”

“Who’s Ruth?”

“You’ll see.”

A dark shadow lay over the property.

“Something’s not right,” Mason said, frowning. “I have a bad feeling in my gut about this.”

“Same here,” I said. “Maybe we should turn around.”

“No, I…I have to do this.”

He knocked on the door three times. Then seven times. Then twelve times.

Twenty minutes went by, and no answer.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Wait,” he said. “Something’s definitely not right. She should have answered by now. Her car’s in the driveway.”

I looked over at the pink Volkswagen Beetle in in driveway. I blinked. It had not been there before.

“I don’t like this,” I said.

“Hello, Ruth? It’s me, Mason Godfrey. Krauvas’ son,” he said. He turned the doorknob, and it swung open.

Dust was in a thick layer everywhere. A stack of magazines lay on the floor. Paintings seemed to watch us, and I thought I saw a painting of a skeleton eyeing us.

“The paintings are alive,” Mason said. “That’s not good.”

So he saw it, too.

The flowered couch was shredded, fluff everywhere. The TV was blaring the 24/7 News.

“And in North Hampton,” the reporter said, her eyes turning red. She began grinning, showing sharp yellow teeth. “Two boys step into the house of the witch Ruth Mayhem, but they will not find her alive.”

Mason gulped.

“This was a mistake,” he said. We turned around, only for the door to slam shut and locked itself. I pulled on the locks, then kicked it. It didn’t even budge.

One of the skeletons in the painting over the piano reached out for us, then beckoned us with his finger.

Mason muttered a prayer. We heard a creaking sound.

I went into the kitchen, only to see an old brown rocking chair with the ghost of an old, decayed woman in it. She coughed and squinted at me.

“Who are you?”

“Um, ma’am, my name is Reese Emerson. I’m a friend of Mason’s.”

“Mason? Oh, Krauvas’ boy. Well, I’m afraid you’re too late. I’m deeeeeaaaaaaaddd.”

She floated toward me; her mouth wide open.

I turned to face Mason, who was paler than usual, his dark eyes wide and fearful.

“Oh gods,” he muttered. “This was such a bad idea. We should go.”

We ran to the front door.

“Lockoroto motorono!” Mason cried. The locks didn’t budge.

I heard a groan and turned around. A skeletal corpse was standing there, eyes hollow, hair clinging to the pate, the skirt dirty. She pointed a finger at Mason, then dissolved into dust.

“This is all my fault,” he muttered. “She put a Nightmare Curse on the house.”

“A Nightmare Curse?”

“Yes. It’ll make you wish you were dead. But why she’s done this, I don’t know. At least, I hope it’s just a nightmare and not a- “He paled again.

I saw what had made him pale.

Our fathers, looking decayed and skeletal, walking toward us, arms outstretched. Then my father jumped on me and started strangling me. Mason tried to pull him off, only to be grabbed around the waist by the dead Krauvas, and his hands wrapped around his son’s throat.

Everything grew darker, and I slowly fell asleep.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I heard a large boom, and a flash of light, and I felt the grass under me.

I awoke to the cloudy day, except now I was being sprinkled on. My father was staring at me, my real one, looking worried.

I looked over and saw Mason, spread-eagled on his back, Krauvas standing over him, looking concerned.

“Two hours,” he muttered. “Two hours, and I have to rescue him. What am I going to do with the boy?”

“Just do what I do with mine,” Father answered. “Let him have more freedom. Reese, how are you?”

“I…” I clutched my throat. I was parched.

Father, sensing my thirst, bit into his wrist and I grabbed it and drank greedily.

“Hungry, are you?” he teased. He pulled his arm away, and I whined. “Later, son.”

I got up slowly, then turned around and puked.

“What happened?” Mason asked, slowly waking up. He looked up and saw his father. “How much trouble am I in?”

“A lot,” Krauvas said. “Like, grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Dad, I’m- “

“Don’t. I can’t even trust you not to get your friends in danger.”

He angrily spat into the grass and walked away. Mason sat up, tears in his eyes.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I said. “Father, say something!”

“Reese, I can’t interfere with how another parent disciplines their child unless they are extremely out of line. And I hate to say this, but I have to agree with Krauvas. That was a dangerous stunt you two pulled.”

“How were we supposed to know the place was cursed?”

“Krauvas says that Mason knew. And he pulled you into it to save his own skin.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You can believe whatever you want. It’s the truth.”

I looked over and saw the house.

“Who destroyed the house?”

“Krauvas did. And if I hadn’t been connected to you, who knows what might have happened?”

He took me back to the house in my GT-R. I wanted him to take me back to Mother’s house, but he said he didn’t trust Mother or Alexander not to keep me safe. I reminded him that I was with him when I left with Mason, and he tweaked my nose and told me to be quiet.

He fed me blood and gave me a potion for a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN – WARLOCKS, WITCHES, AND VAMPIRES

I woke up the next day feeling refreshed. Then I remembered everything that had happened the day before. I felt sorry for Mason, who was probably wallowing in self-pity at the moment, blaming himself for what happened.

I called Sarah and checked on her. She was relieved to hear my voice; she had heard what happened and feared the worst.

I reassured her that I was fine, and hung up, then called Mother, who was also relieved to hear my voice. I told her that I was fine, and she threatened Mason’s life a few dozen times. I hear Sarah in the background, shouting “Mom! Not okay!”

I laughed and ended the conversation with her, then went downstairs to eat breakfast.

“Well, Ruth Mayhem is dead,” Louis said, coming into the room, his phone against his ear.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. That’s why the Nightmare Curse activated. Someone didn’t want us to find her. They found her in the bedroom, all blue and bloated.”

“A dead witch and a dead warlock,” I said. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, your dad and Krauvas are investigating it now, along with Ethan. Ethan thinks that Ruth Mayhem died from asphyxiation. The warlock was strangled before they cut him open. Limited blood loss.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Mitra wants to get involved, but my dad is insisting that she stay out of it. She says she’s the guardian of the Lenape tribe, and it’s her responsibility to know what happens around the reservation.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Me? Not a thing. I’m not going to get involved. Last time I did, I almost died.”

“Coward.”

“Ha. Very funny, little buddy.”

He ruffled my hair.

I went back to Mother’s house, and I smelled spilled blood. I ran over to the backyard, and my heart skipped a beat.

Sarah was laying in the grass, covered in blood.

“Sarah!”

I ran over to her, and lifted her up. Her green eyes met my yellow ones, and I let out a sigh of relief. My heart pounded, and I clutched her to my chest. She gasped, and I let her go.

“Where are you hurt?” I demanded.

“What?” She looked down at herself. “Oh, this isn’t my blood, Reese.”

“Not yours…”

“I was carrying a box full of bloodbags to the garden. It helps the roses grow, according to Mother.”

“But you fell.”

“I stumbled over a fallen branch. I was just stunned, not truly hurt.”

I hissed at the ground. So I’d freaked out over nothing. At least she was okay.

I looked over at the fallen tub of bloodbags. Most of it had spilled out, seeped into the ground. Great, the worms could have it.

Sarah got up and brushed herself off. “Great, my new jeans have grass stains now. At least I’m wearing an old shirt and old boots.”

“Who cares about the jeans?” I asked.

“Sarah!”

Mother rushed over and embraced her. “Where are you hurt? Mommy will take care of you!”

“Mom, I’m fine,” she said. “I just fell and got stunned. The blood spilled out.”

“And it ruined your new designer jeans. Tut tut. Well, go inside and clean up. Mommy will take care of the mess. Reese, go help her.”

“Of course.”

I lifted her up, despite her protests and complaints (“I am not a damsel in distress!”), and carried her into the pool house, where she kicked off her muddy boots, then I carried her inside, where Zie and Selena immediately fell upon her, concerned.

“I’m fine, really,” she said, taking off her bloodied tank top. Selena and Zie gasped. So did I, a little bit. The sores on her breasts had gotten worse. Infected.

Blushing, she covered her breasts with her arms and half-ran up the stairs. I said nothing and followed after her. I found her in the bathroom. She took off her jeans and her undergarments, and stepped into the shower, which I could feel was still cold. She squeaked at the temperature, then tossed the hair elastic into the sink.

I sat on the toilet. I knew this looked odd; me on the fuzzy pink toilet seat, and my girlfriend in the shower. I dug out my phone and texted Mason, asking if he was all right. No response. Sarah took a long shower, then turned off the water and grabbed the hot pink towel. I peeked behind the curtain. She wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out.

I grabbed a brush and started brushing her hair. Astonishingly, she did not protest, and let me brush out the knots. Her curls sprang up immediately after I brushed through them. She wrapped a towel around her head.

My phone dinged.

Mason: I’m sorry I got you involved in that investigation. It won’t happen again. Any news?

Reese: No, except that Ruth Mayhem is dead. Our fathers are investigating it, along with my family doctor.

Mason: Interesting. That’s all you know?

Reese: Yes, that’s all I know.

I was amazed that Mason was allowed to keep his phone after his little stunt. Then again, he was legally an adult now, despite his attitude and his height, which was only slightly taller than Scarlett Hart.

Sarah redressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She had dried her hair with the hair dryer and was now braiding it into a side braid.

“What news?” I asked her.

“Um…Cirino let out the loudest burp ever the other night. I didn’t know babies could burp like that. Alexander is liking the role of adoptive father. Sabine is going to have her name changed to Cresley-Nicolai. I thought about