Insidious. Dawn Metcalf

well, secrets don’t tend to stay secret forever.”

      Joy didn’t say anything to that. It was true of her mother’s affair, her father’s first girlfriend, Stef coming out and her own signatura. There were no secrets that stayed secret. There was no use trying to hide the truth.

      She took a steady breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Stef...”

      “Listen,” he interrupted. “I’m headed back to school soon, and I want you to promise me that you won’t go seek out my master anymore.”

      That threw her completely off track. Joy frowned. “Your ‘master’?”

      He sighed. “Mr. Vinh.”

      “Mr. Vinh is your master?” she said. “The Wizard Vinh?” Had she known the manager of the C&P was her brother’s teacher? Or had she forgotten? Had Mr. Vinh known about her when she’d appeared that first time with Inq? How much did Stef know? Her ears rang. She was deep into information overload.

      “Don’t look so surprised,” Stef said. “I said I was a wizard’s apprentice, and you knew he was a wizard. How hard can it be to connect the dots? He even said you’d gone to see him about a glamour.”

      Joy shook her head. “That was for Ink.”

      “And you bought one?” Stef asked angrily. “With what?”

      She was obscenely glad that Stef didn’t know anything about her trade with Ladybird. It didn’t take a genius to know that paying three drops of blood to a drug dealer was bad. “With nothing,” she said. “I didn’t end up buying one. Ink did! Because he knew I wanted you guys to meet him.”

      Stef blew out a long breath. “Fine. Well, that’s a relief,” he said as if it were one more thing to check off his to-do list. “Just promise me you won’t go to the C&P for anything other than convenience store crap.”

      Joy hedged. This was getting perilously close to lying territory.

      “That’s why I came to you,” she said earnestly. “You could help me.”

      “You? Yes. You, I can help. Here’s my helpful, brotherly advice—stop whatever it is you’re doing or whatever it is you’re thinking of doing right now. End sentence. As far as helping them?” He snapped a pair of his jeans in the air with a sharp smack! “I’m not helping any Other Thans.”

      Joy stepped back, stung.

      Tell him, she thought.

      “Stef...”

       Tell him!

      Their father’s voice called from the den. “What are you two doing?”

      Stef shouted, “Joy’s not finished packing!”

      “Joy!” Dad barked. “What did I tell you?”

      “No dithering!” she shouted back and, with a last glance at her brother, went to her room and started yanking open drawers and throwing stuff on her bed. Stef might not want to help her out, but he’d just helped her enough to make a start.

      She might not know what a Class Ten blanket spell was, but she knew a few people who did.

      * * *

      Shoving a last fistful of underwear and socks into her pack, Joy hit the auto-dial and waited for the click. Monica picked up on the first ring.

      Joy said, “When.”

      “You serious?” Monica said. “Aren’t you heading out in two days?”

      “I am,” Joy said, grabbing her hiking shorts and ratty jeans. “But the feet want dancing now.”

      “You packed yet?”

      “I’m packing,” Joy said. “As in, ‘in the final stages of getting packed.’”

      “Hmm. You know your Dad’ll kill me if I spring you before you’re through, and I have this crazy, personal attachment to breathing.”

      “Aw, c’mon,” Joy begged, folding T-shirts into thirds. “One last night of fun? It’ll be special—we could double date.”

      “Double date?” Monica said suspiciously. “You mean like you, me, Gordon and your invisible boyfriend? Or are you planning on bringing a Ken doll in your purse?”

      Joy snorted. “Ha-ha,” she said. “You in or not?”

      “In,” Monica said. “Seriously in. What time are we talking?”

      “You name it.”

      “Gimme till nine,” Monica said. “I have to pick out an outfit and call Gordon and everything.”

      Joy grinned. “Nine it is.”

      “And dare I ask where this party will go down?”

      “The Carousel,” Joy said, putting her plan into motion. “Where else?”

      * * *

      Ink appeared for their date through a rift in the wall. Joy checked the clock.

      “Right on time,” she said.

      “I received your message.” He touched the carved box he’d given her on her birthday. Joy found that a scribbled note placed inside would disappear. A response would appear later. They sent little love notes back and forth at all hours of the day and night, tiny scraps of paper that made every day a surprise. Joy had a small collection of her favorites stashed in her drawer. It was way better than email!

      He tugged his shirt across his chest self-consciously. “How do I look?”

      Joy chose not to say the first word that jumped to mind. Scrumptious wasn’t perhaps the subtlest of adjectives.

      “You look great,” she said. “Really.” And he did. As nondescript as his tight black tee and skinny blue jeans were to human eyes, they hugged his long, lean muscles, and his smooth, boyish face made him look anything but ordinary. The silver wallet chain only added to the clean-cut Goth vibe, coiled and cool. Joy remembered thinking that he had an intense, animal grace when she first saw him across the floor of the Carousel. Admittedly, that was before