Twin Eater by L.A. Boruff & Lorraine Cooke

Author:L.A. Boruff & Lorraine Cooke [Boruff, L.A. & Cooke, Lorraine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Phantom Pen

10

Mae

I stood in the middle of our spotless living room, a hurricane brewing inside me that could give our local legends of mountain storms a run for their money. My hands fumbled with the frayed edges of Harriet's favorite flannel shirt—the one she insisted brought out the fiery spirit in her red hair—as I tried to quell the frustration bubbling up my throat.

"Harriet could find trouble in an empty room." I paced the worn wooden floor that creaked in protest under my bare feet. Each step was a silent plea, a mother's incantation for her child's safety.

Lela, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed and her eyebrows knitted together in worry, chimed in. "And usually with an impish grin on her face."

I sighed, unable to suppress the corner of my mouth twitching upwards. "But this silence... it's deafening."

"I know." She crossed the room to stand beside me. She was pretty much as worried as I was. Lela had been in Harriet’s life so much she was a second mother to her. "She's strong, like her mama. Chip off the old witch's block."

"Blocks. Plural." I corrected, managing a weak chuckle. "But even chips can get swept away in a flood. And if Harriet's disappearing magic has gone wonky…" I trailed off, laden with unsaid worries about what dangers an invisible girl could face.

"Then we'll just have to un-disappear her," Lela said with a glint in her eye that lit the dark corners where my hope had started to fade.

"Spoken like a true sister-in-arms." I glanced toward the window, half-expecting to see Harriet bouncing out of the camper.

It was still outside. Quiet. No Harriet.

"Come on." Lela rolled up her sleeves. "Let's rustle up some magic and find that girl. There's not a nook or cranny that can hide from us when we're on the warpath."

We headed into the kitchen where Bertha had just started pulling out ingredients for breakfast. "Hang on," I said. "We want to try to summon Harriet or something."

I yanked open the junk drawer and rummaged through its depths until my fingers closed around the worn handle of a compass that had been in the house when we renovated. Bertha said its needle supposedly twitched toward trouble—or in this case, hopefully, a missing family member.

"Got it." I held it aloft like Excalibur fresh from the stone.

"Does that old thing even work?" Lela asked skeptically, peering at the compass, her brow furrowed beneath her mop of curly hair.

Bertha cackled. "Worked for my mama when she lost Daddy that time at the state fair. Found him by the corn dog stand flirting with the contortionist."

Lela snorted. "Hopefully Harriet has more sense than that."

I weighed the compass in my hand. It seemed to throb with potential, or maybe that was just the pulse of my own worry bleeding into it.

"Let's focus." Lela rapped the table. "Harriet, you stubborn little sprout, where are you hiding?"

I tried to channel my fretting into something resembling concentration.

"Need help, loves?" Bertha bustled over, apron dusted with flour.

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