T*Witches: Dead Wrong by Randi Reisfeld, H.B. Gilmour Read Free Book Online

back into his truck.
    “The stream,” Alex said, making a decision that surprised her as much as it did Cam. Evan shrugged and put the pickup in gear.
    “I thought you wanted to see if Ike’s been staying at your old place,” Cam said.
    “I do. But first you’ve got to see this stream. It’s magical, Cam. I mean, it’s beautiful and calming.” Alex snuffled back her tears and Ev handed her a beat-up roll of paper towels he fished from the floor of the cab. She tore off a brittle, water-stained sheet and gratefully blew her nose in it. “Sara used to take us there, right, Ev? Whenwe were kids. We used to love it so much, and she did, too. Before I face that butt-ugly trailer again, and maybe that creepy loser who’s calling himself my dad, I don’t know, I just thought maybe it’d be nice to sit by the stream awhile.”
    Cam hiked up the collar of her red jacket and said, “Brrrr. In this snow?”
    “You’re losing it,” Evan said. “This is not your basic water-watching weather, Als.”
    “Ever been there in the winter?” Alex asked slyly.
    “You know I haven’t,” Evan reminded her and — five minutes later, as they picked their way through the snowy woods to the stream — he rubbed his arms, which were prickled with goose bumps under the sleeves of his Dr. Death sweatshirt. “Yo, Als, is this place still haunted?” he tried to joke.
    Alex nodded solemnly.
    “Get out! It is not.” Evan laughed. “You used to sucker me in all the time with that baloney, but I know better now —”
    Alex parted the branches of a towering evergreen. It was like parting a prickly green curtain. Behind it a strange mist became visible, a warm heavy vapor rising off the water — which, amazingly, was gurgling and running even though the temperature was below freezing. Then Cam noticed that there was no snow alongside thestream. The bank was covered with rich green moss, tall reeds, cattails, and herbs.
    Evan’s eyes bugged out.
    “What is this place?” Cam asked in a hushed voice.
    “One of the streams that feed Crow Creek,” Alex answered. She bent down and plucked a sprig of mint from the ground. Staring at it, she wondered what had made her choose it. “Mom and I used to come here in the dead of winter,” she said, rubbing the spicy herb between her palms. “It was our secret place … the way that old tree in the park in Marble Bay is yours —”
    “It
is
haunted,” Cam ventured. “I can feel things … things swirling in the mist… spirits —”
    That was all Evan needed. “I am so outta here!” he declared and, turning on his heels, he started back toward his pickup.
    “There are spirits here,” Alex said, tucking the fresh mint into her pocket and brushing off her hands. “I can hear them, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I never could. It’s not English. It’s a different language.… Very old.”
    Impulsively, she raised her arms. Over the noise of Evan tromping through woods and the strangely soothing rush of the stream, she called out, “Ancient spirits, guide us. Be with us. Help us to help our troubledfriend.” Then she laughed and shook her head. “Evan’s right. I am losing it.”
    “No,” Cam whispered. “I felt something just now. I mean, when you asked for help.”
    “Yeah, right.” Alex sighed as they started back to the truck. “Cami, how are we going to help Evan if he won’t tell us anything?”
    “Well, let’s see,” her sister said, as if prepping for a homework assignment. “What do we know now? He’s in big trouble. He told Lucinda something about it but she won’t tell us. An ugly event is scheduled and Evan’s in the middle of it. Oh, yeah. And he doesn’t want to get anyone else involved — like Lucinda’s family and Mrs. Bass. Is that about it?”
    Alex nodded. “I need to get him alone. I need to convince him to talk to me. Or to
think
about what he doesn’t want to tell me, so I can read his mind.”
    “We’re pretty alone