The Book of Lost Souls Read online

  Raven lifted the hem of her dress and prodded Tara with her shoe. “I think the fairy outfit was a bad choice. She makes a better Carrie look-alike.”

  Spike wheeled around and darted for the exit along with a few more screaming and panicked Regulars. Bane and Gareth chased after him.

  Less than a dozen or so people remained in the room. Even Mr. Evans had managed to shove his way out the door with the last of the Regulars.

  Raven grimaced at the sight. “I’ll never fantasize about what men wear under kilts again.”

  “Uh, oh.” Shayde motioned toward the teachers and the Grays heading their way. “We are all so dead. This is way worse than I expected.” She picked at a clump of orange icing hanging from her hair. “Spike’s gone, and I think your mom is the least of your worries, Ivy.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Ivy thought it was a good thing they had wooden floors throughout the house or her mother would have worn a path in the living room by now. Her mother paced around the antique cherry coffee table, past the sofa and the love seat by the window, pausing only to cast another spell into the kitchen. There was an audible click as the dishwasher closed and turned on.

  Ivy sat on the sofa, unsure of what to expect. Her mother seemed more worried than upset. Her lips were pressed tight, and she nibbled absently on a fingernail. Whenever her mother became worried, her eyes changed to a cloudy shade of moss green instead of the usual brilliant emerald that Ivy wished she’d inherited instead of her father’s steely grey ones. She’d always loved her mother’s eyes. And while Ivy hadn’t been happy to share her mother’s hair color as a child—a deep shade of auburn the color of a worn penny—she loved it now. It meant that at first glance, she resembled her mother more than her father with his dark wavy hair. Thankfully, her eyes and a propensity to be tall and lean were the only other physical characteristics she inherited from him. While everyone said she had his mannerisms and personality, her father was the last person on earth she wanted to be like.

  Ivy moved her gaze from her mother and stared out the window into the flower bed. The front porch lights of their old Victorian house lit part of the garden that her mother devoted so much time to on weekends. The first frost would come soon, and the flowers would lose their already fading splendor. Her mother loved flowers. Whenever she felt depressed or had a bad day working at the library, Ivy would snip a small bouquet for her. Ivy didn’t think there were enough flowers left to make a decent bouquet, especially one suitable enough to brighten her mother’s present mood.

  “What were you thinking, Ivy? That was a very dark spell. You don’t ever change one living thing into another! Why did you do it?”

  Ivy shrugged. What could she say? It would sound desperate if she said she’d turned a lizard into a date because she wanted Dean to notice her. And she hadn’t thought the spell was all that dark. She hadn’t used Spike to do anything wrong.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she said finally. “And Spike found out Tara wasn’t really a dung beetle, so no harm done, right?”

  “Don’t make light of this!” her mother snapped. But the sparkle had returned to her green eyes, belying her serious tone. “I’m serious, Ivy. I’m really disappointed.”

  Ivy drew into herself, trying to appear sorry. Sorry didn’t begin to cover it, especially since she’d lost Gareth’s pet, but imagining Tara in a dung beetle costume was pretty funny and Ivy had to fight the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  The same grin played on her mother’s lips, and she folded her arms, trying to appear angry. Finally, she dropped her hands to her side. It seemed that her mother was also mentally picturing Tara dressed as a dung beetle. “I’m sure he thought she was a ladybug or something, Ivy. Be nice!”

  “Fine. She was a fairy, okay? A fairy princess with an apparently edible dragonfly tacked to her dress. But, she would have made a better dung beetle. Suits her personality.”

  “Ivy,” her mother said soothingly as she took a seat next to her. “You’re a beautiful young girl. You’re top of your class and can perform some very advanced spells for a witch your age. Sometimes that intimidates boys. I’m sure that’s why no one asked you to the party and that’s okay—”

  “Mom!” Ivy interjected. This was embarrassing. She hated it when her mother decided they were going through some pivotal mother-daughter moment. Ever since he left them, her mother went overboard during times like this, trying to compensate for two parents instead of one.

  “When I was your age, I didn’t have a boyfriend, either. It’ll come, sweetheart. Maybe if you were a little more sociable. Not that I’d ever complain about your grades, however your people skills could use a little work.”

  Ivy avoided looking at her mother, trying not to show her growing annoyance. She didn’t want to hear this. Instead, she petted her dog, a rare Kindred breed known as a Beezlepup. Some people mistook them for a fox-dog hybrid or even part coyote, but every Kindred knew that Beezlepups were pure mischief, which apparently was the perfect breed for Ivy lately. Devlin lifted his head and looked at her with his beady, slanted eyes.

  “Someone did ask me, Mom. I just didn’t want to go with him. Can we drop this?”

  Her mother clasped her hands together and her face brightened. “Who?”

  Ivy patted Devlin’s side and he rolled over, eager for a belly rub. Ivy obliged. “Nick.”

  “Nick Marcelli?” her mother asked. “Ah! I understand why you didn’t want to go with him.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, he’s a demon, Ivy,” she said in the same tone she’d used when they had their mother-daughter talk when Ivy turned twelve. “They’re a little intense. You’re not ready to date a demon.”

  Ivy frowned. She was more than ready. If she wanted to date Nick, she could. Nick clearly liked her. And she’d have no problem handling a demon. She wasn’t a child, after all. She was one of the most responsible and intelligent girls in her entire class.

  “Mom—”

  “Now, Ivy, it’s okay. You really haven’t dated much, so I understand he might be a bit much for a first boyfriend.”

  “I said I didn’t want to go with Nick. Not that I couldn’t,” Ivy nearly shouted. Raven was right, it was safer to want what she couldn’t have. Besides, if she went out with Nick, how long before he grew tired of her? Look where love had gotten her mother—broken hearted. A mischievous dog was all Ivy cared to deal with. A troublesome boyfriend? No thanks.

  “I’m not interested in Nick,” Ivy reiterated.

  “Oh?” Her mother looked puzzled. “Then why do this, Ivy?”

  “Dean Matthews,” Ivy replied in as small a voice as possible and still be heard. She didn’t want to have to explain it further than that.

  “OH!” her mother said, eyebrows raised. She leaned forward and smiled wickedly. “So...you used Spike to try and make Dean jealous? Isn’t he dating the dung beetle princess?”

  Ivy managed a laugh. “Yeah, Tara Prescott, the dung beetle princess.”

  “Well, he is handsome. Your fath—” She absently smoothed her skirt.

  Ivy placed her hand over her mother’s. He’d left them over nine years ago and her mother understood Ivy’s reluctance to refer to him as her father. It was as though by not saying it Ivy could forget him, like he’d forgotten her. Sometimes, the memories still found a way to make the pain fresh again, especially for her mother. Mentioning him upset her. Ivy wondered what color her own eyes turned when she was worried. How hard was it for her mother to look into her daughter’s grey eyes and not see him?

  “I’m sorry Mom,” Ivy said. “I guess it was a pretty stupid thing to do. Did anyone find Spike, yet?”

  Her mother shook her head. “No.”

  Ivy swallowed. This wasn’t good.

  “I’d take away your car keys, but you’ll need them.”

  Ivy hadn’t expected this. She’d been sure that the first freedom she’d lose would be the keys to her used VW bug. It’d been her great aunt�
�s car and had been well cared for. When Ivy finished tenth grade with honors, her mother surprised her with it. It was old, a '73, but it ran great and had a fairly new green paint job, compliments of a spell her mother had cast. It was good on gas, especially after her mother charmed it, making the bug sort of a Kindred hybrid running half-fuel half-magic. It had to use some ordinary fuel or the Regulars would be too envious. Frequent use of supernatural powers or magic upset the Regulars. To keep the peace, Kindred tried to curb PDMA—Public Display of Magical Ability.

  “You’ll need your car to find Spike, so you can change him back,” her mother continued. “And you’ll need to be able to get to the Grays, because you, Shayde, Bane, Raven, and Gareth will be cleaning up the old section of the cemetery. The Grays have been meaning to do it, but the weeds and vines have completely gotten out of control, and you know how allergic to poison oak Mrs. Gray is.”

  “But the weeds will die off soon. It’s almost Halloween. First frost is—”

  “That’s not the point, Ivy.”

  Ivy stifled a groan and thought for a moment. How bad could it be if she’d be with her friends? And it’d be easy enough to clear out the weeds and vines with a spell or two. Besides, she didn’t lose the use of her car, and it wasn’t like her mother had grounded her. All things considered, she’d gotten off easily.

  “Okay, when do I start?”

  “Tomorrow morning at eight.”

  “Eight in the morning? On a Saturday? Mom,” Ivy protested. It’d be cold. Even with their Indian summer weather, Ivy figured it’d be around forty-five degrees then.

  Her mother raised her hand, palm outward. “I don’t want to hear it, Ivy. You should have thought about your actions to start with, young lady.”

  Ivy sighed.

  “And no magic!”

  “What? You mean we have to work at this? It’ll take at least a month of weekends, maybe more! That’s... silly.”

  “I mean it, Ivy. You have no idea how much trouble this has created. Spike is out there in human form, dressed as Romeo, nonetheless. What must the Regulars think? What if he makes his way down to Burlington? We’ve got anyone who can cast a decent spell out searching for him, and we’ll have to wipe the memory of any non-resident Regular who sees anything weird. The Council has asked if you’ve inherited—” She wrung her hands.

  Ivy knew what she’d been about to say. Her father’s dark magic.

  “Pure craziness,” her mother went on. “Anyway, I just hope they don’t have to resort to erasing memories. It makes people drool for weeks.”

  There were times when Regulars from out of town witnessed things they couldn’t explain, or for that matter, could explain. When that happened, it was in the best interest of the town and those who lived here that the outsiders memories were wiped of the event.

  “But he wouldn’t have escaped if Uncle Lucas hadn’t made everyone panic and run for the door. Mr. Evans left, too, and he’s a teacher and a wizard. This isn’t entirely my fault!”

  “You’re the one who had to have a conjured-up date for the party, Ivy. If you’d just gone with your friends and not worried about competing with Tara, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” Her mother stood, signaling the end of the conversation. There was nothing left for Ivy to do except take her punishment.

  “So, Dean Matthews? This is a special occasion! My little girl’s first real crush.”

  “Mom, it’s not my first crush.”

  “Orlando Bloom and Harry Potter don’t count, sweetie. I know! We’ll make brownies and we’ll talk. What do you say?”

  Ivy wanted to say that she’d just as soon get started on clearing out the cemetery. Or crawl under a rock. And, she wanted to remind her mother that she wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was sixteen now, soon to be seventeen. Well, next March.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ivy was the last to arrive at Forever View. As Ivy saw it, it wasn’t because she didn’t do mornings well, it was just that everyone else did them better. On weekends, while she was just getting rolling around eight or nine, maybe making some breakfast, Shayde and Bane would already be finishing up an hour-long wolf run. And Raven and Gareth generally slept no more than four hours, anyway. They never needed exercise to get moving. They never needed caffeine.

  On cool days like these she preferred to still be sleeping, all warm and contentedly dreaming in bed. She wished she were more like her friends. It’d make waking up a bit easier. She opened the front door to the funeral home and stepped into the parlor where everyone else had already gathered.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Bane said, his tone far too hearty and his expression much too alert.

  Ivy grumbled and tried to feign consciousness. Morning people were so irritating.

  Raven handed Ivy a mug. “Mocha Latte, made from the good stuff—syrup, not powder.”

  Gareth walked by, drinking something steamy and foul smelling from an aluminum cup. He didn’t share in his sister’s all-consuming love of chocolate.

  “That’s not coffee, is it?” Ivy asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Nope.” Gareth grinned. “But I did warm it up. Want some?”

  “That is so gross,” Ivy said, wincing. She’d never get used to her friends drinking blood, even if she never had to see the cup’s contents.

  Raven caught Ivy’s expression. “At least we don’t have to go hunting for it. It all comes to us. Doesn’t freak out the Regulars as much when they’re not on the menu.”

  “Yeah,” Gareth said. “Home delivery. While fresh tastes better, this is easier. It’s fast food for vamps.”

  Ivy forced herself to drink her latte and not think about the Grays’ habit of drinking blood from corpses. It wasn’t true that vampires couldn’t eat or drink anything besides blood. They occasionally ate fruit and they often drank wine. Vampires were also the only Kindreds Ivy knew to be fond of blood pudding. Ivy didn’t need to worry about calories yet. She was still slender. But Raven would never need to worry that what she ate would add even a single inch to her waistline.

  “Good job of cleaning up,” Shayde said. “You’d never know anything happened last night. Not a single sign there was a party here.”

  Gareth took another swallow of his breakfast. “Yeah, Mom and Dad put everything back before they went to sleep.”

  Guilt nagged at Ivy. “Look, guys. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for us to get into trouble like this. I never would have done it if I’d known you’d get punished, too. And the worst part is that I can’t use any magic to help us out today. Mom’s rules.”

  Bane groaned, and Shayde nudged him hard. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We’ll get through it. Today’s going to be sunny, so it’ll be a good day to be outside anyway.”

  Of course, for werewolves, any day spent outside was a good day. Snow or cold or rain didn’t bother them. The only season the twins spent more time inside than out was summer. Werewolves weren’t keen on too much heat.

  Bane slid off the casket he’d been sitting on. “Okay, then. Let’s get moving. I have football practice later. Some of the guys are picking me up after lunch.”

  Ivy’s heart thudded. She didn’t dare mention Dean’s name. She wanted to smooth her hair, or at least be sure that the ponytail she’d absently swept it into this morning wasn’t a total mess. If she’d known Dean might be here, she would have dressed in something other than her well-worn jeans which had an unidentifiable stain on one leg and were frayed at the hem, a faded and dirt-stained jacket, and beat-up hiking boots. And, okay, she’d also have put on a little mascara and blush. Right now, she was just happy she’d brushed her teeth. Of course, after a day pulling weeds, her appearance was likely to only get worse.

  “Don’t worry, Ives,” Bane said. “He probably won’t even notice you’re wearing mismatched socks.”

  Ivy lifted her pant leg. She’d worn one light blue sock and one dark one. “Great,” she said as she followed the others outside.

  By the time they’d made
it to the maintenance shed and loaded a small golf cart trailer with shears, rakes, shovels, and an entire unopened box of super-sized lawn bags, it was nine o'clock. Once they hooked the trailer to the six-seater golf cart, they piled in and set off.

  Raven navigated the golf cart through the gently rising slopes winding through the cemetery. Despite the sun, the wind was still pretty chilly and Ivy felt the bite of cold across her cheeks. As they made their way past the old and noisy iron gates whose shrill squeak was enough to alert the dead they had company, Ivy wished they’d brought a thermos of hot cider or coffee with them.

  Gareth hopped out of the cart and closed the gates behind them. “Raven and I spent some time here when we first moved in. She wanted to see who could find the oldest headstone.”

  “This section is pretty ancient,” Shayde said. “Some of our ancestors are buried here.”

  “You think that’s why Uncle Lucas comes here? To dig up old family members?” Ivy asked.

  “No, he doesn’t dig up anyone we know,” Bane said.

  “So, what’s the oldest grave up here?” Shayde wanted to know.

  “Eighteen twenty-one. A guy named John Baker.” Raven pointed toward a row at the far side of the cemetery. “Dad told us this section used to be called Church Cemetery, but the church burned down during the nineteen twenties. Not a lot of people come up here anymore. Mostly, it’s just some of the Regular kids on a dare from their friends on Devil’s night. Gareth and I think it’d be fun to let the young kids see something real scary, you know?”

  “I think I’m in enough trouble already, thanks,” Ivy said.

  Raven gave her a suit yourself shrug. “Anyway, there’s still a few Kindred who come around to visit. Usually, it’s the Harrisons visiting a great-grandparent or something like that. Otherwise, it stays quiet,” Raven said, stopping the cart and scanning the graveyard. “And really overgrown. You can’t read names or dates on some of the headstones because they’re made of sandstone. Since sandstone is so much softer than marble or granite, they just sort of crumble after so many years.”