Hexed by Michelle Krys

Author:Michelle Krys [Krys, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 978-0-449-81311-9
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2014-06-10T04:00:00+00:00

19

My heels skid along the pavement as Frederick drags me down Hollywood Boulevard. Drags me by the neck, like a little boy might drag a stuffed animal that’s become floppy from overuse. Blood fills my head and my face turns hot, a jackhammer of a pulse pounding in my forehead. I tear uselessly at the hands cutting off my air supply, my breath coming in frantic wheezes, my vision turning black at the edges.

When my feet slide across the cement slabs where stars actually left their hand- and footprints, I know we’re back at the forecourt of the Chinese Theatre. The familiar red pagoda with its copper roof, massive dragon stamped across the front, and two lion-dog statues standing sentinel at the entrance, comes into view, upside down.

Once we’re through the gilded doors of the theater, Frederick tosses me into the lobby. I stumble forward, gasping for air and touching the grooves along my neck where I still feel his fingers.

My throat burns like I’ve swallowed fire, but I can breathe. Once I establish that, I take a look around.

If people I care about weren’t about to die, I might be impressed by what I see on my first time inside the Chinese Theatre. There’s none of the tacky, popcorn-littered carpeting, loud arcade games, and bright track lighting typical of most movie theaters. While there is a concession stand that emits a concentrated popcorn scent, this lobby boasts elaborate Chinese murals, imposing red columns, and a massive, ornate chandelier hanging over the top of a red-and-gold dragon-themed carpet.

But Mom isn’t here, and neither is Bishop. Paige, I can only hope, ran far and fast when Frederick came after me.

I spot dim light seeping under a set of doors at the end of the hall.

“Go on.”

I look over my shoulder. Frederick nods in the direction of the light. “I hear there’s a good show playing.” His lips slide into a grin.

Dread pinches up my stomach, growing stronger with each step I take nearer to the light. I don’t want to know what’s behind the door, but at the same time, I desperately need to know. My mind whirls, my every organ working in overdrive. And suddenly I’m there, my shaking hands pressed against the wood. Holding my breath, I push the double doors open.

The theater is massive. Thousands of bright red seats fill the auditorium, facing a red velvet curtain. Still more Chinese murals stretch across the walls, and dotted along them are intricately carved stone pillars with small lanterns hanging between them. Another colossal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and from the ceiling’s center bursts even more painted dragons.

But still no Mom, still no Bishop.

I get the disturbing feeling that this is a fake-out. But then the curtains draw open, and there they are. At least kind of.

A video of Mom and Bishop is on the screen. They’re in a pitch-black room with only a spotlight shining on them, and they sit side by side, acres of thick rope tying them to wooden chairs, and rags stuffed in their mouths.

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