I turn to Isaac, pause for a second to rethink my words and then say, “…Never mind.”

Isaac looks at me inquisitively, resting the large unfolded map against the steering wheel.

“Never mind what?” he says.

It didn’t even dawn on me that I hadn’t actually said anything; I was too lost in my thoughts.

“What?” Isaac urges me, still anxious about getting on the road and maybe a little tired of all the obstacles being thrown in our path.

Wait. Obstacles.

I snap back into the moment and say, “I’m just being paranoid.”

Nathan pushes himself in-between the front seats, poking his head into our view. “Spit it out, gorgeous,” he says with a serious, yet lopsided smile. “Paranoid or not—what’s on your mind?”

I feel my eyes blink rapidly a few times as I gaze out the windshield and toward the house.

“I don’t know,” I say staring off at nothing really, “but it just seems weird that she would show up like that.”

“Well, she is a weird girl,” Nathan says.

Isaac raises both brows and nods once to indicate: Yeah, he’s got a point.

“Like I said: paranoid.” I shrug and leave it alone.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Isaac says, “and Cecilia could be a valid concern, but probably the least likely candidate.” He glances toward the house too, where Cecilia is inside with his sister and then he looks back at me. “She’s only ever at the skate park. She doesn’t even go to the same school.”

“True,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not her.”

“She has a point too, bro,” Nathan says. “This could be one of those situations where the least likely candidate is the most likely.”

“Fine,” Isaac says, reluctantly agreeing, “we’ll put her on the list of suspects, but I’m going with my gut on this one: I don’t think it’s her.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “I guess we officially have a list now.”

“One person doesn’t constitute an actual list,” Nathan says.

“Well, then tell me,” I say, crossing my arms and glancing between both of them, “I know you both have to have someone you’re suspicious of. At least one person.”

Nathan and Isaac look at each other briefly, but I can tell it’s not because they share the same thought on this matter. It seems more like each of them is testing the other out to see who’s going to speak up first, neither of them really wanting to admit they are suspicious of anyone.

“Well?” I urge them.

“I’m not saying this because I really and honestly believe it,” Nathan begins and is no longer smiling. “I’m only going to add Sebastian to the list because he’s the only one in the house who came in around the time you became involved with us here in Maine. I think he’s a good guy and I swear I don’t think he’s the traitor, but if I had to pick someone, it’d be him only for that reason.”

I give it a moment’s thought and nod, accepting Nathan’s theory.

We both look over at Isaac at the same time with the same interrogative expression on our faces.

Isaac lets his breath out heavily and gazes off toward the house again.

“Zia,” he announces and his voice is distant.

My head draws back in a stunned motion.

“Zia?” I say. “Why would you think it could be her?”

He turns back to me and shrugs. “No reason in particular,” he says. “Just a gut feeling.”

Isaac choosing Zia as his pick for person of interest has more of an effect on me than I could’ve imagined. I never would’ve even considered Zia for a second. And even Isaac admitted that he has no real reason to pick her, but still, this whole situation has become a hundred times more uncomfortable to me because of it. I guess I had just assumed all along that the traitor would be someone I don’t like, maybe someone that I despise—Rachel, for instance. Yeah, I hope it’s Rachel because then I would have every justifiable reason in the world to wish bad things upon her, maybe even get my own revenge and kick her ass once and for all. But of course, if she is the Dark Praverian, that kind of tosses my ass-kicking plan out the window because there’s no way I can fight one of them. Actually, if it’s Rachel, I have more reason than ever to be terrified of her, especially since I’m the only one among us she seems to despise with every fiber of her being.

Okay, so maybe I would rather the traitor be someone else, after all.

Chapter 9

WE MAKE IT TO Providence by mid-afternoon and drive for what feels like forever up and down Angell Street and Butler Avenue until we find the two-story house of Minna Abrahamsen.

“We’ll park at that church we passed and walk back up,” Isaac says driving past the house again and towards the intersection. “Don’t want her to see my Maine license plate.”

I hadn’t even thought of that.

We park the Jeep and head back the way we came, Isaac and me hand-in-hand as we walk along the sidewalk. I grow more nervous the closer we get and Isaac’s hand tightens around mine as though he senses the nervousness churning around in my stomach.

“Maybe she’ll be hot,” Nathan says on the other side of me.

I roll my eyes and smile looking over at him.

Isaac says, “Sure, bro, and since you’re the only one of us who’s single you can be the one to show her how hot you are for her so she’ll give us what we need.”

The house draws closer. I can see it out ahead perched on the corner with one big tree in the front casting a swath of shade across the grass and sidewalk concrete.

Nathan spats a laugh. “Yeah, if she’s hot,” he says, “otherwise hell no.”

“No, you’ve been officially nominated,” I say smiling hugely. “What, can you not…perform?”

Nathan’s mouth falls open and Isaac laughs beside me under his breath.

“Babe,” Nathan says, “that’s not an area I have any problem with.”

I laugh out loud. “Well, we’re not trying to pimp you out or anything, but let’s just hope you’re her type and that this plan doesn’t fall through.”

“Yeah,” Isaac says, pulling me closer, “let’s hope because it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

When we make it to the house, we stop on the sidewalk and just stare at it for a moment until Isaac pulls me along and we ascend the short steps onto the porch. Nathan stays below on the walkway and as I look back to get a quick glimpse of him, I notice he’s not Mr. Smiles anymore. He looks really tense. I would normally get a laugh out of Nathan’s torture, but right now as Isaac knocks on the glass window on the front door, I can do anything but laugh.

I hear movement inside and this time decide to let my keen sense of hearing open up fully so I can listen further. I hear a television playing. It’s TV Land and the first thing I hear when the intro commercial fades and the programming resumes is: Shirrrl! and a lot of old-timey sitcom laughter. A few seconds later: Laverrrn! Whatever it is, it’s obnoxious. I hear footsteps padding down the carpeted stairs and heavy, raspy breathing followed by intense coughing that makes me wince and my stomach curl.

“She’s definitely not hot,” I whisper harshly to Isaac.

Nathan hears my comment and says, “Oh man, it sounds like there’s an old hag in there. Shit, bro, I’m really not likin’ this.”

Isaac raises his fist to knock once more but then stops as a shadow moves across the octagonal window to our right, covered by a sheer burgundy-colored curtain.

There’s a click as the door is unlocked from the inside and then the slinking sound of a chain being slid between two pieces of metal. And then another bolder click as the deadbolt is turned. And then the slithering sound of a slide-lock being pulled away from its tiny metal chamber.

This woman must get ‘dangerous’ visitors like us often.

Finally, the door cracks open and the stench of cigarette smoke funnels outside and practically suffocates me. I reach up quickly and pinch my nose with my fingertips. Having a superhuman sense of smell is definitely the worst of all the senses.

“What do you want?” a hoarse voice says with her face obscured by the darkness.

“We need your…expertise,” Isaac says carefully and slips his hand around my hip.

The door slams shut, rattling the large piece of glass embedded in the wood and then the series of locks all quickly go in reverse. “Get off my porch!” she says through the door.

Odd thing is that she doesn’t sound to be very afraid, but instead, annoyed by our presence.

Isaac pounds on the glass again. “Look, we came a long way and if you won’t let us in to at least talk about why we’re here, then we’ll let ourselves in.”

My eyes widen and I move away from Isaac and take two steps down the porch. “Are you crazy?” I whisper harshly.

Nathan hasn’t budged from his spot on the walkway and I’m starting to consider joining him.

“I’m not helping any of you freaks!” she shouts. “I’m not the Witch of Wayland, you hear me? I’m sick of all you mutants pounding on my door for love spells and all the like! I told you, I don’t do that backwoods modern-day, wannabe Wiccafuck stuff! You hear me?”

“Ma’am,” Isaac says with a raised voice so she can actually hear him over herself, “we’re not here for any love spells. This is something far more…well, for you, I’d say interesting.”

I see the white curtain covering the glass on the door move as though she is pressing up against it now. Silence ensues for a few seconds while Nathan and I keep looking back at one another, wide eyed.

“Interesting as in how?” Minna says with her face closer to the glass.

“Praverian interesting,” Isaac says in a softer voice than before.

The white curtain lifts away from the glass and there is a long silent moment before the locks start to make noise again.

The door opens slowly and much wider than before. Minna stands in the doorway in all of her leathery suntanned, smoked-four-packs-of-cigarettes-a-day glory, dressed in a dingy white nightgown and bath robe. A pair of worn-out pink house-shoes dress her feet; open-toed, which displays her gross, thick toenails painted hot pink but which can’t distract from the other ‘crustier’ features.

I want to look behind me at Nathan, just to see the mortified look on his face that I know is there, but I can’t turn away from this woman who I’m totally wary of.

Minna cocks her head to one side, propping her hand on the doorjamb just a little above her average height. Her gown lifts a couple of inches with her arm, revealing her thin, bony ankles streaked by varicose veins.

“Please come in,” she says somberly and moves to the side, gesturing us in with her other hand palm up.

Strange how her attitude flip-flopped from crazy, screaming hag to calm, methodical woman.

Isaac waits for me to step back up behind him before we head inside. Nathan follows but still can’t bring himself to say anything, probably hoping it might steer Minna’s interest to one of us, but something tells me Nathan is going to have a very uncomfortable, prison-shower sort of day.