T*Witches: Dead Wrong Read Online Free PDF Page B

the peeling mailbox or the small, one-story shack at the end of the tacky trail. Leaning away from the wind, the house’s wooden frame was worn to an ashy gray. Unbelievably, in the gusting snow, a woman was hanging wash on a line tied between two porch posts.
    “Mrs. Fretts?” Alex called softly, clearly happy to see Ev’s mom, even though the alcohol fumes drifting from her were making Alex slightly dizzy.
    The woman was wrapped in a brown army blanket, from the bottom of which a flowered housecoat fluttered. A hunting cap with dangling earflaps and unbuckled rubber galoshes completed her outfit.
    “Mrs. Fretts,” Alex called again, louder.
    Evan’s mom turned and looked over the twins’ heads, as if the voice she’d heard had called to her from the clouds.
    “Is she blind?” Cam whispered.
    “More like blind drunk,” Alex said. “Hey, Mrs. Fretts! Remember me? It’s Alex. Alex Fielding, Sara’s daughter.”
    “She’s not here!” the woman roared at the sky. “Now get! Scoot! Quit hollering at me!”
    “Maybe we should go,” Cam urged. “Come back later or tomorrow when she’s —”
    “Is Evan here?” Alex ignored her sister. “I’m here to see Evan!” she shouted through cold, cupped hands.
    Finally, Mrs. Fretts brought them into focus. Instantly, she dropped her clothespin bag and the frozen-stiff wrinkled shirt she’d been about to hang. Through swollen squinting eyes, she stared in disbelief at Alex and Camryn. “I’m seeing double! And she’s not even dressed the same! Evan, help! Come quick!”
    The weaving woman grabbed onto the porch post to steady herself and, as if she’d become suddenly tired, slid down the pillar to the rickety wooden floor.
    Alex hurried to her. “Mrs. Fretts, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just me, Alex — and this is my sister, Cam. You’re not seeing things. She’s real and she’s my twin.” She reached out to help her friend’s mother, but Mrs. Fretts slapped at her hands and began to screech piercingly.
    Freaked, Cam could barely keep from screaming herself.
    Suddenly, the front door banged open and there was Evan, boiling mad. In two strides, he was standing over Alex, with a shotgun pointed at her head. “What’s going on? What’d you do to my mama?”
    Alex looked up. “Ev. Evan, it’s Alex! Put that stupid thing away!”
    Cam peeked out from between her hands and saw a boy aiming a shotgun at her sister. It was Evan — looking nothing like the teasing, easygoing guy with the bushy, blond-tinged dreadlocks she’d met less than a year ago. Grim, breathing hard, battling panic and rage, it was the Evan she had seen in her vision!
    But the porch he was standing on now was not where she’d pictured him. This scene was crisp, clear, free of the strange, shadowy shapes that had loomed behind him in her dream.…
    Cam’s eyes widened and, almost on their own, telescoped in on the muzzle of the gun. It was cheap metal,she saw. Aluminum or tin. Easy to heat, even in this weather. Before she realized that the weapon Evan was holding was a toy, the metal turned red and then white; smoke curled from the muzzle and the barrel began to bend.
    A little boy charged outside, followed by an eight-or nine-year-old girl. “You give me back my gun,” the little boy howled at Evan.
    “Nicky, get back in the house,” the girl scolded.
    They both saw the twisted toy at the same time and gasped.
    “Alex?!” Evan came to his senses, looked at the bent-barreled gun, and started laughing out loud. “Alex Fielding,” he sputtered.
    Alex jumped up, punched Evan’s arm, and pointed at Cam. “You remember my look-alike from the Ferris wheel at Big Sky? She’s weirder than me by a mile, bro.”
    “Little trick I picked up in first-year toy bending,” Cam joked nervously. “I’m a magic major.”
    “Honor student, I bet.” Evan handed the toy back to his crestfallen little brother. “It was broken before,” he tried to explain to