Toxic

by Jus Accardo

That pissed me off, and I couldn’t be sure if it was the poison making me go borderline bitch or the fact that he was actually defending her. “Whatever. I gotta go.”

  He went to grab my arm but froze. Stepping back, he asked, “Where?”

  I shrugged, trying to play it casual. “Stuff to do.”

  “I’ll come.” He sidestepped me and pulled the door open.

  “No need.”

  “I’m not stupid.” Arms spread wide, he said, “This is still very new to me, but I have eyes—and I know you. I know you’re hiding something. You’re avoiding me. You never avoid me.”

  “Not you. I’m avoiding your shadow.” He started to say something, but I cut him off. “I can’t deal with her, okay? Not now.” My voice rose, and I struggled to keep it together. “Everywhere I turn, there she is. With you. All over you. In order for me to touch you, she has to be there.”

  “She’s not here now.”

  “And I guess that means I can’t touch you. Not without agonizing pain and gut-wrenching nausea. Or, ya know, death.”

  He flinched but said nothing.

  I looked around his shoulder, expecting to see her pop out from behind the desk or around the corner. She had the inconvenient-timing thing nailed. When the lobby remained silent, I sighed and kicked at the carpet. Snapping at Kale was stupid. This wasn’t his fault. “I’m sorry.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

  “I don’t care.” He pulled his sleeve down tried to take my hand, but I jerked away. The gesture was sweet, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny voice raged. Why are you so angry? What the hell is wrong with you? This. Is. Kale!

  Sighing, I pulled out Ginger’s keys and dangled them in front of him. “Have it your way, but be advised you’re now officially guilty of grand theft auto.”

  19

  “You haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  I pulled Ginger’s ancient car up to the curb two blocks from the Phillipses’ house. The whole ride over I’d been debating what to tell Kale. Keeping secrets from him was hard enough, but actually making up a lie? No way. He’d see right through me. He already knew something was going on with Able.

  I settled for getting as close to the truth as possible.

  “We’re here to search Layne Phillips’s place.”

  He unbuckled his safety belt and shifted in the seat. “The girl from the news?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?”

  “I think she was Supremacy. I think Denazen was behind her death.”

  “What makes you think she had anything to do with Denazen?”

  “Gut feeling,” I said, pushing the car door open. “We should hurry. Her parents both work down at the town hall. They’re only open till one on Saturdays.”

  I could tell he wanted more of an explanation but thankfully didn’t push. A few months ago, I could have gotten away with simply saying I’d gotten an anonymous tip. Kale was newly free, and as far as he knew, stuff like that happened all the time. Now, though? Now he’d question it. He’d see it as a total Dez thing—his explanation for the things I did that everyone else on the planet seemed to find incredibly stupid—or inexplicable.

  We walked for a few minutes before either of us spoke.

  He pulled his sleeve down and took my hand. “I’m looking forward to Monday.”

  “Me, too,” I said. My fingers twitched, enclosed in the thick material of his hoodie.

  When Kale asked me to the homecoming dance, he’d been disappointed to find out that without an actual school, there was no actual dance. He felt like it was his fault I was missing my senior year and was determined to make it as authentic as he could. He’d done hours of research, according to Rosie, and eventually went to Ginger for help. In honor of homecoming, she’d made reservations at Flavour, Parkview’s own dinner and dance club, and also extended the invitation to all the Sixes that lived at the Sanctuary. That meant Kiernan would be there. Knowing Jade would be all over Kale—probably wearing some slutty dress—I was thankful.

  Someone had to keep me from killing her.

  The rest of the way passed mostly in silence. A few times I shot Kale a sideways glance. Shoulders stiff, he kept his eyes straight ahead and said nothing. Twice I caught him flicking his fingers and saw the barest hint of lip movement as he counted. I knew it was my fault, but there was no way to fix it—at least not yet.

  “This is it,” I said, stopping in front of the dark gray ranch. The lawn was meticulously trimmed, complete with an obnoxious pink flamingo and matching babies. A large pine tree shaded the entire front side of the house, reaching to the edge of the lawn.

  “You’re sure no one is home?”

  I pointed to the empty driveway and made my way around to the back of the house. “No cars.”

  “How will we get inside?”

  I stopped and waved him ahead. “I’ll leave it to the expert.”

  Kale being Kale, I assumed he’d scale something in true ninja style or pick the lock. It’s what he did. Super stealthy with a side of infiltration awesome.

  Instead, he walked up to the back door and put his elbow through the glass.

  “Oh, my God!” I held my breath and shot a quick glance over my shoulder. Tiny plinking sounds filled the air as bits of glass bounced against the walkway. This was a quiet neighborhood. The houses were all relatively close together. It’d be easy for someone in their backyard to see or hear something and scamper off to call the neighborhood watch or whatever they had here. “Are you crazy?”

  “There’s no one around. It’s safe.” He reached through, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

  I followed him inside. “There could have been an alarm.”

  “There were no indications.”

  I followed him through the door. “Indications?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  God. I loved when he did that.

  “There are no stickers on any of the windows, and there were children playing on the front lawn several houses over. This is a quiet neighborhood. Low to no crime rate. They wouldn’t have need of an alarm.”

  I closed the door behind me and pointed to the steps. “Come on. We only have a couple hours till Mr. and Mrs. Phillips get home.”

  We found Layne’s room at the top of the stairs. Judging from the condition, I guessed her parents hadn’t had the heart to come back in after the night of the party. Clothes littered the floor, and half a sandwich sat on the corner of the desk. Several flies circled above, waiting for their chance to swoop down and grab dinner.

  “You take that side,” I said, pointing to the half of the room with the window. A large coffee mug in the shape of Road Runner’s head sat balanced on the sill. There was a dresser and cedar chest against the wall with a small shoebox in the corner. I wanted the closet and desk for myself. “I’ll take this one.”

  “What am I looking for?” Kale leaned forward and peered into the mug.

  “There was a rumor she kept a diary. I’m hoping she has it hidden in here.”

  Kale didn’t look convinced. “Wouldn’t someone have found it? Wasn’t she killed here? The police would have searched the room.”

  I shrugged. “Depends on how well she hid it.”

  We went to work, searching in silence for what seemed like hours. Every once in a while I’d look up to find Kale watching me with an odd expression on his face. He’d open his mouth to say something, but I’d quickly turn away. He didn’t push it.

  When I checked my phone again, it was almost twelve o’clock. I kicked an empty shoebox across the room and sighed. I was almost through the closet and hadn’t found crap. “This blows.”

  Kale pulled his head out from beneath the bed. “I don’t believe she’d leave a written statement confessing Supremacy involvement.”

  I shoved myself away from the closet and stumbled upright. My leg had fallen asleep, so I teetered, almost losing my balance. Grabbing for t
he closest item—a hanger full of large, tacky purses—I tried to keep myself upright. I failed, taking the hanger full of bags along with several of the surrounding sweaters to the floor. I knocked my head against the doorframe and pulled a muscle in my good arm, but it was worth it.

  “Wanna bet?” I untangled myself from the pile of clothes and leaned forward. On the wall of the closet, there was a poster of an M.C. Escher painting. The first and most obvious thing that made me suspicious was the fact that it was in the closet. Escher was epic. Why the hell would someone hide him in the closet? The second was a tiny red smudge on the wall at the corner. The poster would have covered the stain, but when I fell, one of the sweaters had come off the hanger and caught the corner, pulling it down.

  Holding my breath, I reached out and tore the paper from the wall. Written in what looked suspiciously like dried blood was the word “Supremacy” over and over. Big letters. Small letters. Letters done in squiggles and zigzags. “That is seriously freaky.”

  Kale came up behind me. He didn’t seem fazed. “But it doesn’t do much more than confirm your suspicion.”

  A good point. Big deal? We knew for sure she was Supremacy. That didn’t give me anything useful.

  Kale inclined his head and knelt down beside me. “Maybe there’s something in the panel behind the wall.”

  “Huh?”

  He reached around, grabbing one of the wire hangers off the rod. Unbending the hook, he leaned into the closet and jammed the metal into the wall. A few sharp pokes, and I saw the smallest hint of a seam. A few more jabs, and it separated from the wall, revealing a small cubby hole.

  “This might be something,” Kale said, picking up a small leather bound book.

  I took the book from him and flipped it open. The first word on the random page I hit was “Supremacy.” “Score! Was there anything—”

  Kale stiffened. “Shh!”

  Muffled voices, then one clear as a bell. “I want a clean sweep of the bedroom. No one leaves till we find that diary.”

  “Shit!” I started for the window but Kale beat me to it.

  “Stuck.” There was the tiniest hint of panic in his voice. “We’re—”

  “Screwed,” I said as three men in Denazen’s trademark blue monkey suits barged into the room.

  20

  Kale stepped in front of me, and for the longest second, no one moved.

  “This makes my job a whole lot easier,” the one in the front said. He eyed me like a supersized golden goose egg that someone had just tossed his way. “I bet Cross promotes me for bringing his baby girl home.”

  Kale chuckled and shrugged out of his hoodie. The sound sent a thousand tiny shivers down the back of my neck. “You know I’ll kill you if you come closer.”

  The man sighed and stepped aside. His colleague had a tranq gun—standard issue, Kale told me once—aimed right at us. “Which is why you won’t be coming any closer.”

  I heard the tiny pop as the dart left the gun, followed by a muffled grunt as Kale shouldered me aside. The dart hit the window, and the glass cracked but didn’t break.

  Kale flew at the men, scattering them apart like a bowling ball headed for the perfect strike. One went down right away. Eyes wide, he tried to scramble out of the way but wasn’t fast enough. Kale’s bare hand connected with his face. He shoved hard, and the man stumbled, disintegrating just before colliding with the wall.

  One of the others kicked out, catching Kale across the middle. He wobbled and fell to the ground—but he didn’t go alone. Twisting at the waist, he kicked his legs around in a circular motion and, with a graceful sweep, caught the man behind the knees.

  Meanwhile, the last one charged me. I scooped up the dart from the floor below the window and ran to meet him. He managed to grab me around the throat, but not before I sank the sharp point of the dart into the soft skin of his neck. His fingers flexed once. Twice. Three times—before he let go and staggered away.

  He ripped the dart from his neck and threw it to the ground with a growl. “You’ll pay for that,” he swore.

  “I hear that a lot,” I said with my sweetest smile, then dodged him as he came at me again, though this time with a lot less grace. The meds on the dart were starting to take effect. I just had to keep him hopping until he went down.

  He took another swing. The force behind it threw him off balance and sent his body lumbering sideways into the desk. The chair wobbled to the left and crashed to the ground just in time to trip the agent Kale was dealing with. I made the mistake of watching him go down, ignoring my own guy and giving him the chance to gain the upper hand.

  But it was only a halfhearted attempt. The agent’s grip was lethargic, and his movements were slow. I was able to buck him off and move away before he even knew what’d happened.

  He opened his mouth, but no words came. Eyes rolling back, his body collapsed to the pale blue carpet.

  I took a few seconds to admire my handy work. Big mistake. I heard the soft pop of the gun again and out of the corner of my eye saw the pointy blur zooming toward me. It would have been impossible to move from its path. Yet somehow I did.

  Or someone did. Kale.

  He crashed into me from the right, sending us both careening sideways. The impact was so hard, I stumbled and collided with the far wall, well out of his reach. He was on his feet again in the blink of an eye, facing off against the remaining Denazen guy.

  “This is silly,” he said. “You can’t touch me, and you won’t be touching her.”

  The man said nothing, only smiled and reached around to his back. A moment later, he produced a small knife. It made an audible whoosh as he sliced it through the air in front of Kale, who avoided it with ease and reached for the man—only he wasn’t like the others.

  He ducked safely out of reach, whipping the blade in intricate circles. Kale pivoted and spun while the man attempted to carve him into more manageable bits, spinning and swinging the knife with exquisite expertise. Kale advanced as the man skated out of reach. It was like watching an exotic dance. Poetry and grace hiding deadly intent. Once I tried to move forward to help but thought better of it. Kale was focused and deadly. I couldn’t take the chance that I’d accidentally get in his way.

  A low curse spilled from Kale’s lips. The knife had caught his shoulder. At first it was nothing more than a rip in his T-shirt. A few moments later, the edges of the tear began to darken as the wound started to bleed.

  Kale, slightly shocked, turned to examine it.

  That should have been a huge red flag. But it wasn’t until the man relaxed, folded his arms and chuckled, that I saw the reason. Protruding from the back of Kale’s other shoulder, was the dart the man shot at me.

  Kale must have seen it at the same time I did. His eyes got impossibly wide as he yanked it out. It fell to the floor, bounced twice against the carpet, and lay still at his feet. “I’ll kill you long before the effects kick in.”

  But he didn’t sound so sure. In fact, his voice kind of fluttered. I was betting the man hadn’t noticed—most people weren’t as hyperaware of Kale as me—but it was unmistakable. He might have had the biggest, most badass training Denazen could offer, but in the end, he was only human.

  And humans didn’t do tranq darts very well.

  The man shot forward, foot sweeping the back of Kale’s knees. Hampered by the tranquilizer pumping through his system, he didn’t move in time and crumpled to the ground. I rushed forward to help him but froze when the man pointed the gun at me.

  “Stay put, kid.” Turning back to Kale, he wedged a shoe under his chin and laughed. Waving the gun, he said, “Cross is right. You’re nothing but an animal. Easy to contain with the right tools.”

  Groping the ledge behind me, I searched for the Road Runner coffee mug I’d seen when we came in. When my fingers brushed the cool, oddly shaped porcelain, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been worried it might have gotten knocked down in the commotion.

  Fingers threaded through the ha
ndle, I stepped forward and smashed the mug against the man’s temple. He dropped the gun and stumbled back. I’d debated mimicking the mug into something more useful—the blow was helpful but had only dazed him. Something like a pipe would have done a bit more damage. But I didn’t want to take the chance that Kale was coherent enough to notice. He had no idea my ability had gotten stronger.

  The agent groaned and took another step back, rubbing his head. I didn’t let up. Following him, I kicked at his gut, sending him off balance and tumbling into the open closet. I slammed the door closed and pulled the small nightstand in front of it before rushing back to Kale.

  He was trying to sit up but dazed. Definitely not the super alert guy I was used to. I tried slipping my arms under his shoulders, but he pushed me off.

  “No,” he mumbled. “Don’t touch me. You’ll—”

  The closet door rattled.

  I ignored his protests and snatched the hoodie from the carpet behind me. Wrapping it around his bare arm, I pulled up. But I didn’t make much progress. I wasn’t a weakling by any stretch, but Kale was a big guy. With a lot of muscle. It translated into a ton of dead weight. “Help me out here, Kale. We gotta go. Now.” The closet door rattled again. It wouldn’t hold much longer, and I didn’t want to be here when the suit got out. “Five minutes ago, actually.”

  Kale managed to get to his feet, but staying there was harder. Two steps toward the door, and he was down again. I grabbed hold of him and yanked up, but his sleeve rode up, and my fingers brushed against his bare skin. This time the effect was instant. It skipped the pins and needles and shot right for the mind-numbing pain and shortness of breath. I went down beside him, seeing stars and struggling to move the air in and out of my lungs.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, the closet door picked that moment to explode outward in a splinter of paint chips and wood. The man snarled and, hands extended, flew at us. Kale, unable to pick himself off the floor, made a grab for the man’s ankle as he passed. Suit guy went down with a thud.

  I moved away, stumbling up and attempting to go around so I could drag Kale out of the room if I had to, but I didn’t make my pass wide enough. My foot caught something, and like the man, I went down again. Hard. I tried to scramble to my feet, but something yanked me across the floor. More like someone. My shirt rode up slightly, the rough carpet biting into my skin. Not the most fun way I could think of to get rug burn…