Light as a Feather, Cold as Marble

Chapter 32

"Where are you taking me? Whatever you're thinking of doing to me, my dad will find you."

It was hard to concentrate on the road with Violet making idle, feverish threats in the back seat in between wet, gnarly coughing fits, and the windshield wipers systematically brushed clumps of snow out of my view. Henry and Trey were smashed into the same bucket seat to the right of me, two practically grown men crammed into a space designed to contain one person. Everything was haphazard and out of control. The Audi was by far the most luxurious car I'd ever driven before, and the weight of it terrified me. It felt like I was behind the wheel of a battleship and my legs wouldn't be strong enough to slam on the brakes and stop it if necessary.

"What's the plan, McKenna?" Trey asked gently, not wanting to distract me.

We were approaching an empty intersection and after I checked both directions, I floored the Audi, blowing off the red light. There was no chance I was going to risk letting police or anyone else who might have been pursuing us catch up. When I'd put my foot on the gas pedal of Mr. Simmons' Audi back at the gas station, I'd launched myself, Trey, and Henry into another whole dimension of trouble. My legal knowledge was extremely limited, but I was pretty sure that kidnapping put us into the big leagues as far as punishments were concerned. Violet fell into an intense coughing fit, and all of us cringed at the sound of phlegm crackling in her throat. We raced along what was probably a busy thoroughfare when there wasn't a blizzard in effect without seeing a single other car. Businesses in this small town other than the gas station appeared to have closed early in preparation for the storm.

"Henry, do you have Amanda Portnoy's phone number?" I asked.

"Do you hear me?" Violet asked from the back seat, her voice high-pitched and strangled.

Ignoring her, Henry flipped through the contacts in his phone.  "Yeah," he said, sounding surprised. "I do."

"Call her. Tell her we need directions to her family's old summer house near Lake Superior."

Without questioning me, Henry did as he was told. I didn't need him to inform me that the only way we'd ever stand a chance of getting as far as the northern tip of Wisconsin from where we were at that point was by driving for almost two days straight.

"You'll never get me all the way there without the police stopping you," Violet said smugly. "They're probably already looking for you right now."

"When the police start looking, they'll be looking for your father's car, and we won't be in it. And by the way, we don't care about getting you there," I said sharply. "We care about dumping your body there."

I was lying, of course. We'd never discussed actually killing Violet. But my mistruth shut her up fast. My brain was concocting a plan so quickly that I could barely keep up with the elements as they occurred to me, one by one. The first thing I needed was a destination. We needed a place where we could force Violet to play Light as a Feather, Cold as Marble without interruption. Preferably it would be a place that wasn't freezing cold or in a public setting where we might be surprised by onlookers or—worse—police. We would be nervous, we would be unsure if we were doing things correctly, there was no telling how her little spirits might attempt to stop us, and most importantly, we would never have the chance to play the game again. So location was critical, and I couldn't let Violet distract me.

"Amanda wants to talk to you," Henry said after posing the initial request to her over the phone.

As he handed me the phone, suddenly Violet's hand swatted it away through the gap in between the two front seats. The phone tumbled to the floor and I hit the brakes as the phone clattered in between Trey's feet. Henry immediately leaned forward to retrieve it and Violet lunged for him, wrapping her tiny pale hands around his neck. I heard a choking gasp escape Henry's throat as she tightened her grip. The Audi skidded to a messy stop in the middle of the empty, snowy road.