Maddening (Cursed Superheroes #2)

A bowl of cereal is balanced on the steel table in front of me, along with a copy of The Proper Way to do a Magic Lobotomy, my magic wand, and the Mystic Willow Bay Daily newspaper. The top headline: “Another body missing from the morgue! Cops say decaying spell went awry, but town members concerned we have a rapid vampire problem!”

I have exactly fifty minutes to read through the newspaper and a chapter of my textbook, finish my breakfast, and get dressed for the one morning class I have today. Like usual, I’m running way behind schedule and should’ve probably skipped having breakfast in the basement with my older sister, but I’m the only person she has to talk to at the moment.

“Another dead body’s gone missing,” I mutter as I skim through the article. “I need to put some more charms up.”

“Charms aren’t going to stop anyone from stealing me,” my sister says through a dreary sigh. “Or from a decaying spell.”

“It’ll keep you better hidden, though.”

No suspects have been arrested. No sign of suspicious foul play. I roll my eyes. Only in Mystic Willow Bay would missing bodies be considered nothing to be alarmed about.

I wouldn’t normally concern myself with bodies poofing into thin air, but now that I have a dead body to worry about, I want to find the culprit. It won’t be the first time I went out searching to solve a mystery.

Back in middle school, a lot of lockers were robbed, including mine. When I found out the person had not only stolen my new leather jacket and the Fog Inducing Ring from my grandma for my birthday, I went ballistic and set out on a mission to find the perpetrator. After spending over a week interrogating every single person I went to school with, I discovered that the lockers were robbed because of a hazing going on in the popular crowd. While I didn’t out any of the participants, I accidentally left a trail of clues on my blog that the principal found, which led to some suspensions and a few expulsions.

Needless to say, my already sucky popularity status went down to an eating-by-the-dumpsters-at-lunchtime level. I thought my social life—and any hope of ever having friends—was over at that point. However, it turned out not to be as sucky of a year as I thought, because that was the year I met Hunter.

Le sigh. Hunter. Hunter. Hunter. The only guy who’s ever unknowingly broke my heart over and over again.

“If you don’t put the newspaper away, you’re going to end up not having time to do your homework,” my sister’s tired voice yanks me out of memory lane.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I try to shove thoughts aside of body thieves, memories of living in Loserville, and hopeless, will-never-progress-to-anything-more-than-a-friendship crushes, and concentrate on reading through yesterday’s assigned reading. But books about magical lobotomy aren’t the most entertaining, and I quickly find myself looking more at the photos and less at the scientific words filling up the pages.

“Some of the photos in here are super disgusting.” I crinkle my nose at a photo of a guy getting his head cut open. “I seriously think my professor might be twisted in the mind for making us look at these.” I slant closer to get a better look at the picture while shoveling a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. Milk dribbles onto my sister’s leg, and I quickly wipe it up, hoping she doesn’t notice. “Ew, I can see his brain.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” she murmurs. “The fact that you’re eating while looking at that book, or that you’re looking at that book while I’m stuck lying on this damn table.”

I pat her cold, bluish foot. “Relax, big sis. I won’t make you look at the photos.”

“That’s not why I’m worried.” Her purplish-blue lips move like a marionette puppet. “I’m worried you’ll turn me into your test dummy.”

I recline in my chair with my fingers pressed to my mouth in mock offense. “I’d never do that to you.” I lower my hand and turn the page, smiling to myself. “Not while you are still coherent, anyway.”

“Wow, Evalee. I’m glad you find amusement in my pain.” Her voice cracks, making me feel like the biggest asshole ever.

While she’s been a bit temperamental lately, she does have a reason to be, considering her circumstances.

“Ry, I’m so sorry.” I stand up and lean over the table to meet her gaze. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” I gesture around the damp, murky basement, lined with a few shelves, boxes, and a washer and dryer that look straight out of the eighties. “This place is so depressing. I hate that you’re down here twenty-four seven.”