I knew something was wrong the moment I got to the bus stop Monday. Instead of his usually, cheerful 'good morning, Watson,' Holmes was staring straight in front of him.

"Holmes?" I asked gently.

He didn't turn around. "Holmes?" I asked again, a little louder. Then I frowned. "Holmes!" I yelled.

Holmes jumped and turned to face me. "Oh sorry, Watson," he muttered. His eyes were dark and he didn't seem to be able to focus on my face.

"Holmes!" I said, putting my hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Holmes swayed, as though dizzy. "I - I just didn't get much sleep last night. That's all."

I stared in disbelief, and put a hand to his forehead. "You're - you're feverish."

Closing his eyes, Holmes took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Really."

The golden necklace caught my eye, and I had an idea. I pulled Holmes into a big hug, pretending sympathy. "Oh, poor hon..." I murmured, putting my arms around his neck. Gently, so he wouldn't feel it, I undid the clasp of the necklace. As an added distraction, I kissed his cheek. Holmes stiffened, uncomfortable, and I pulled the chain away.

I hid the necklace in the palm of my hand as the bus pulled up.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Okay, this was getting annoying. Holmes was right behind as we left math, but when I got to the cafeteria he wasn't there. Slamming my tray down next to Charise, I took the necklace from my pocket.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" I asked her.

Charise took it from my hands. "No, I haven't. That's really weird."

I took the chain back and examined the beetle that hung from it. It looked like solid gold, and it wasn't a locket. I ran my fingers over the carving and flipped it around. Frowning, I held it up to the light. It swayed slowly in my fingers, making my eyes go crossed. I shook my head and put the necklace in my bag, ignoring the weird looks from the other girls.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


I found Holmes after school. He was waiting for me, and we walked home together. His eyes seemed clearer and sharper, and he was talkative and, apparently, happy.

"So, are you up to the dance tonight?" I asked.

Holmes nodded. "I'm not really a dance person," he said, but then looked me in the eyes and smiled. "But for you, I'll make an exception."

I grinned.

We chatted the rest of the way home, but when we got to our block, Holmes veered off to the left.

"Where are you going?" I asked, exasperated.

True to form, he never answered.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


I sighed and put a little lip gloss on. Mom ran a brush through my hair. "You look very pretty," she said. I ran my hands down my shimmering skirt and smiled.

"I feel pretty," I agreed.

My mom got the car keys. "Let's get you to the dance."



I stood in the parking lot, shivering a little. I pulled my coat closer around me and stamped my feet. Where was Holmes? Oh, well, I reasoned with myself. Maybe he's already inside.

I opened the door to the school and enjoyed the feeling of warm air. I checked my coat, straightened my skirt, tugged on my hair, and walked into the gym.

The whole place was decorated in red and green. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling, along with streamers and silver balloons. The DJ and the corner was banging his head in time to the music, and everyone was dancing. I frowned and squinted my eyes, trying to find Holmes.

As I walked around the gym, Charise and Co. called out to me. I waved hello but continued my search.

Five songs and three trips around the gym later, I finally accepted the truth. Holmes just wasn't there.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes and I hurried from the dance floor.

Unfortunately, Marianne was blocking the door. "So," she smirked, "Where's Holmes? Or did he finally decide he needed a REAL girlfriend?"

I choked and pushed past her, trying to ignore the cruel laughter. Sniffling, forgetting my coat, I dashed outside.

I sat on the steps and hid my head in my hands. I can't believe Holmes did this to me, I thought.

"Hey,"

I looked up. It was Brad.

"You've got to ignore Marianne. She's a brat anyway," he said, sitting down next to me.

"He just didn't show up," I whispered, fighting tears. "He told me he would but he ... he never..."

Brad was watching me, sympathy in his bright blue eyes. He put his arm around me and drew me a little closer. "Anyone who didn't show for YOU doesn't deserve you."

I smiled. "Thanks."

Brad cleared his throat. "Say, would you like to dance?"

I looked at him. He was cute, he was nice, but he wasn't Holmes...

"I'd love to," I said, and we walked back into the school.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Mom knew there was something wrong the minute I got in the car.

"What's up?" she asked, twisting around in the driver's seat. I told her about Holmes, then about Brad. We talked for a while about how stupid boys were, and I felt a little better. But something was bugging me.

When I got home, I changed into my pajamas and washed my face, trying not to cry. Then I heard the doorbell. I clambered down the stairs and opened the door, shivering from the gust of cold air.

Holmes was standing there, Rascal at his side. He looked miserable.

I started to shut the door. "No, Watson, please," Holmes said. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me, I don't even remember-" Now I did slam the door, and hurried upstairs, crying. How could he? How could he even show up?

I went to my room and dug through my bag, looking for a good book. My fingers found the golden chain.

I pulled it out and looked at it again. It swung back and forth in my fingers... back and forth... I shook my head. This was giving me a headache. But it also gave me an idea.

I snuck downstairs and booted up my computer, signing online. I went to the AOL (yes, american to the last) search engine.

"necklace" I typed.

678,879,342,125 Results. Um, that would take forever. "talisman" I typed.

324,687 results. That's a little better. How about "golden talisman" ?

121 results. I bit my lip and started clicking on links.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Three hours later I was falling asleep at the keyboard. It was two in the morning, and my eyes were sore from staring at the screen. I clicked on one last link.

One of those annoying pop up ads filled my screen. "QUIT SMOKING!" it screamed in my face. "THE EASY WAY! Try Hypnosis today! Safe, easy, painless. You'll never remember." I sighed and started to close the window.

Then I gasped. And stared.

Hypnosis.

I held the necklace up. It swung back and forth... back and forth.

Slamming into the keyboard I searched for "hypnosis". After trying a few links, I found what I was looking for. Under an online encyclopedia, I read:

"Hypnosis, the use of mind control, is often used among cults. The Fallen Reach, Black Marauders, and the third cult Di-hana are the most frequent."

I could have fallen off my chair. Wide awake now, and trembling, I scrolled down the page.
"The Di-hana," it said, "Often mark their victims with a golden beetle strung on a chain."

I couldn't breathe. The chain dropped from my fingers. "But they all died," I whispered, terrified. "They all died..."