Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 32

Mrs. Tuth's whereabouts remained unknown, which only made matters worse for me. The eleventh eleventh had dawned, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe was conspiring against me.

Every last person on Mrs. Tuth’s infamous list—at least the ones I recognized—had met their end in tragic accidents, all while alone. That thought clung to me like a bad smell. I had convinced myself that spending the entire day from the first drop to the last would somehow save my skin. It sounded safe and comforting, like wrapping myself in a warm blanket. But let’s be honest; if anything was going to happen to me on the eleventh eleventh, it had already happened—the black veins. Yes, black veins, my personal badge of doom.

It wasn't Mrs. Tuth who cursed me, but still, if she did murder people on the eleventh eleventh, I wanted to focus on the here and now. Ignoring the lurking shape-shifter and that dreadful black dreamer was my only option. Speaking of contemporary horrors, those black veins were very much alive and kicking stronger than ever.

So how were we supposed to spend our day off from school? I don’t know—take a vacation in Northern Ellialand and stuff our faces with jelly? Sounds like a plan!

“Are you still alive?”

That question echoed in the deep recesses of my mind, a reminder that I was, in fact, still here. I could have chalked it up to a bizarre dream, but when two different people ask the same question, it ceases to be a dream and starts to feel like a horror movie.

I wasn’t as drained as the previous day, but I could feel something crawling beneath my chin—probably just my anxiety manifesting again. “Yeah, I think I’m dead,” I muttered with frozen vocals, my usual charm fading faster than my breakfast.

The first thought that crossed my mind was to check myself in the mirror, but Phoebi’s parlor didn’t have one. Classic.

Sleeping on a sofa was an absolute nightmare. Besides my already dying nerves, I had neck pain, back pain, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn I fell off an avocado tree. I had to wonder if Zuina and Phoebi felt the same way. The aftermath of a girls' night was not as comforting as I had envisioned.

Damon had shown up, but Simon? Well, he was probably still snoozing away in dreamland.

Phoebi’s place had its charms, but “breakfast in bed” was a generous term for the “breakfast on the sofa” I was enduring. Mashed potatoes served with buns and jelly mixed with blended fruits—a culinary masterpiece to make anyone drool. After layering on my scarf, gloves, and everything else to hide my new skin invasion, I braced myself for whatever the day had in store.

Just when I thought the snack situation was wrapped up, I spotted a plate of fried pork on the dining table. I couldn’t eat from the parlor while the others were at the dining table. Thanks for Phoebi's kindness, but I was more than capable of walking myself over.

The cook in a dustless white apron whisked away after placing a plate of diced watermelons at one end of the table. Now, I like watermelon as much as the next person, but I wasn’t here for a fruit salad.

I hadn’t officially met Phoebi's parents. They had been sound asleep by the time we staggered in from Mrs. Tuth’s dismal abode—a place that only served up disappointments.

Damon had a theory that Mrs. Tuth was running the whole operation solo. The tale about the raider wasn’t about a group of raiders at all; it was about one sneaky little vampire who could outrun the wind. It made perfect sense considering she was as fast as light. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how she managed to do it without breaking a sweat.

“And I suppose you are Carmiabell,” an elegant man on the opposite side of the table said before I’d even taken a seat. Phoebi's father had the looks; it was no wonder where she got her charm.