The Defiance by Laura Gallier

Author:Laura Gallier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Religious / Christian / Social Issues, YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Thrillers & Suspense
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2020-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

IT WAS A COLLECT CALL from the Hilltop Correctional Unit. I told Elle I’d call her back.

Veronica whispered into the phone. “Listen to me. I found out someone was assigned to get inside your apartment and put a curse under your bed.”

“I don’t live in my apartment anymore,” I said, “and don’t act like you don’t know that.”

She was silent a moment, then spoke again, her voice pleading. “Owen, I just assumed it was your apartment. If you’ve moved, I have no idea where you live. I swear. But I’m telling you, someone snuck cursed objects into your bedroom. You need to go under your bed and get rid of them immediately. Take them outside and destroy them.”

I charged up the stairs and into my room, lecturing into the phone. “I know about that astral project stuff, Veronica.”

“Projection?”

“Whatever. I know you’ve been going to Ray Anne’s to spy on Jackson and coming to the church to mess with me too. And those letters—”

“What? I don’t know about any church, and I already told you, I’m done with that life. I haven’t gone anywhere near Ray Anne or Jackson.” She sounded convincing, but what else was new? “Owen, I called to help you. I meant what I said—I’m on your side.” Her voice broke with emotion. “And I could really use someone on mine.” There was a pause, then, “I’ve got to go.”

She hung up, and I scolded myself for being tempted to feel bad for her. Veronica was a wicked foe, not a friend—as slimy as the soaked strands of hair that were stuck to her astral-projecting cheeks last night. That’s why the assailants didn’t morph into Creepers when I gave the spirit-world orders: because they weren’t Creepers. They were witches and warlocks performing a sinister stunt I never dreamed was possible.

I dropped to my hands and knees and searched the dim, dusty space under my bed. Nothing there but a toppled stack of books. But when I slid the pile aside, I knew something wasn’t right.

I put my phone in flashlight mode and aimed it at an odd heap shoved against the wall. It looked like small bones bound together by a thread of bright-red yarn, placed on top of a nest of . . .

Is that human hair?

I used the corner of a book to snag the mound and slide it out from under the bed. Sure enough, there was a wad of long hairs in all kinds of shades—human hair colors. The bones looked like chickens’ wings and legs. Or maybe bats’?

In the center of the mass was an ordinary gray rock with a white pentagram painted on the smooth surface. I might have dismissed the whole thing as some stupid scare tactic had the sound of hissing not filled the air as soon as I moved the bizarre pile.

I took the plastic bin my mother had given me and dumped the contents on the floor. Then I scooped the cursed objects into the bin and hurried outside, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone and owe an explanation.

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