Morgan’s mouth puckered like he’d tasted something rancid, but he rallied with, “That doesn’t automatically make it bad. Lots of things sound gross when you know where they come from. Like vanilla. Did you know vanilla flavor comes from beaver butt glands?”
“Castor glands,” said Temple. “That was fifty years ago. They’ve got cheaper synthetic flavors these days.”
“Hold up.” Jenny made a time-out sign with her hands. “What do you mean, fifty years ago? Did I eat beaver-butt ice cream as a child?”
Temple shrugged. “If that upsets you, wait until you hear about civet coffee.”
“Focus, all of you,” I said. Morgan believed Alex was turning them into the next Slay Team, a group of hunters who would fight evil and save the world while cracking jokes and striking badass poses. “What kind of training has he given you?”
“Not much,” Morgan admitted. “Most of the time, we do the spells and then just hang out, playing games or working on homework. He says once we’ve done the final ritual, we won’t need training.”
“What’s the final ritual?” asked Temple.
“That’s when our powers become permanent.” Morgan stared past us, like he was seeing his future self, all buff and dressed in black and decked out with weapons like...well, like Ronnie. “We’ll be faster and stronger.”
“At what cost?” Temple closedCalvin and Hobbesand returned it to the shelf. “There’s always a price. Your vitality, your family, even your soul.”
Morgan turned away. “It’s not that kind of magic.”
“Tell us where to find Alex,” I said. “Let us talk to him. If you’re right about him, maybe we can—”
“I can’t.”
“Morgan...”
“No, seriously. There was an oath. I thought it was stupid, but it’s real. They smeared a drop of blood from my little finger onto a scrap of paper with the oath written on it, then burned the paper. If I tell you where to find him or betray any of the others, my finger will burn.”
“So?” asked Temple. “You’ve got nine more.”
“I remember those oaths,” said Jenny. “They’re called pinky swears. A warlock in LA invented the spell. He used it to make little kids steal for him. Three kids lost their fingers.”
“Temple, can you undo the...” I had to force myself to say the words. “The pinky swear?”
“Maybe.” He tilted his head toward Morgan. “But not if he doesn’t want me to.”
The stubborn set of Morgan’s jaw answered for him.
“Morgan, what’s under your shirt?” Jenny had switched to her healer tone, calm and reassuring. It made me nervous.
His eyes widened ever so slightly. He sat up and straightened the front of his T-shirt. “That’s inappropriate, Aunt Jenny.”
“He has something hidden in there,” Jenny said to me. “I saw it move.”
Morgan crossed both arms over his stomach. “You’re crazy. You can’t—”
“That’s enough.” I stood. My claws weren’t out and I hadn’t raised my voice, but Morgan scooted backward on the couch like I’d turned into Freddy Kreuger or whatever horror villain the kids were into. “Show us.”
He looked us up and down like he was seriously considering trying to take us on. Jenny just shook her head, a plea and a warning.
“I know those pills make you strong,” I said quietly. “Thanks to my run-in with your three friends, I also know you’re not as strong as me or Jenny. How do you want this to go?”
Without a word, Morgan tugged up his shirt.
On the pale skin of his abdomen, about two inches above and one inch to the right of the belly button, was a small eye, complete with lid and lashes. Unlike Morgan’s brown eyes, the iris of this one was bright green, flecked with gold. The white part was badly bloodshot.
“It’s not a big deal,” said Morgan. “Alex calls it our third eye. Some of the kids have more than one. It’s symbolic. It shows that we’re learning to see the world the way it really is.”
I wanted to turn away. The visceral horror of thisthinggrowing in my grandson’s flesh was too much.
