Thief Eyes - Janni Lee Simner [52]
“Shit.”
Ari looked to where I was pointing in the spellbook. The blood of a white fox, it said.
“This spell needs it, too.” I pressed my lips together. There had to be another way.
“Wait.” Ari pointed to the bottom of the page, where in smaller script a note read: If the spell’s hold is not too tight, strong drink may substitute for blood.
“How the hell are we supposed to know if the spell’s hold is too tight?”
Ari shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think it’s good you didn’t spill all that mead.”
I pulled the mead from the pack. It felt about half full. Would pouring it into a bowl count as spilling it? Freki’s warning had been against letting it touch the earth. At least we knew it was strong.
It had to work. No way was I casting the spell otherwise.
Ari frowned. “What if we call your Jared, have him call my mom and ask her what to do?” Ari pulled his phone from his pocket and opened it. His frown deepened. “Battery’s dead.”
I returned the notebook and the mead to the pack. The fog remained thick around us. My eyelids grew heavy. I closed them, saw flames behind my lids, and forced them open again. I didn’t want to dream.
Ari glanced at my hands. They were shaking. “We’ll figure it out, Haley,” he said.
There was no way he could know that, but even so, his words made me feel a little better. I rummaged through the pack and pulled out a chunk of bread. I broke it in half, handed one half to Ari, and bit fiercely into the other. Food made me feel better, too. We were both starved, even though we’d eaten only a few hours before. We quickly went through everything but the granola.
After what seemed like hours the fog finally began to thin. The sun grew low. The fog turned from gray to an eerie yellow that coated the stones around us. The sun touched the horizon.
Without warning Ari started cursing. His hands fumbled at the zipper of his jacket. “It’s the setting sun that causes it!” Ari scrambled to his feet, jacket halfway unzipped. I stood, too, reaching for him, but Ari shoved me back. “Get away.” His hands were all wrong, too large and too flat.
Ari gasped and fell to all fours. He threw back his head and roared, even as black leather flowed and melted. Leather gave way to fur, hands and feet to white paws, face to small eyes and long snout.
I didn’t run, though that roar echoed inside my chest. “Ari?” I kept my gaze on his green eyes.
The bear stared at me, trembling. I trembled, too. I’d watched enough nature documentaries to know the damage a bear’s claws could do. Yet a real polar bear would have attacked me by now.
The bear whirled from me and ran, disappearing over the stones into the fog.
“Ari!” I fumbled in my pockets for his handkerchief and realized he’d taken it back. I grabbed my pack and ran after him, shouting the words Svan had spoken:
May you shed this form and show
Your true self.
I will fear no bear-kin!
I stopped short and waited. Ari didn’t return. Had he even heard? I made my way back to the roadside and sank to the ground. Maybe if I stayed in one place, Ari could find me. I drew my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth. Alone. Now I really was alone.
Darkness thickened around me. A bright moon rose, turning the fog silver. There wasn’t any wind. In the silence, the world seemed eerie and strange.
It wasn’t like anyone could hurt a bear, even if they could see him. Ari would be fine.
Damp fog tickled my neck. I suddenly wanted Mortimer, my stuffed wombat, more than anything. I thought of Mom, sewing and re-sewing all my stuffed animals for me. My chest felt tight.
My eyes began to close. I used my fingers to prop them open. No way did I want to dream here, alone in the dark and the fog. My heavy lids felt gritty and sore. I had to rest them, just for a moment.
It felt good to close my eyes, but that was okay—I just wouldn’t sleep.
I stood on a hillside beside a tower of gray blocks riddled with cracks. The sky was thick with clouds, the air silent and still, not a bird in sight. Quiet. Peaceful. I’d stop the