by Sarah Fine
“Hey, Lela,” he said when he answered. “Henry and Malachi just left for the night. They’re going to hit those spots you listed.”
“Actually, I was thinking of going, too, and—”
He chuckled. “And I’m supposed to tell you to go home and get some rest.”
“Huh?”
“The Lieutenant’s about six steps ahead of you on this one, Captain. Take a night off, Lela. Things have been quiet.”
I gripped the phone hard. “Fine. What are you up to?”
“Tegan called me. She’s having a thing tonight at her house. People getting together to share their memories of Aden and the other girl who killed herself.”
Jim’s job tonight was to monitor and guard our friends. That usually meant phone and Facebook, but today was Friday. “Her name was Nadia,” I said. “I might see you there. I’m waiting for Ian.”
Jim grunted. “All right. Malachi’s not going to be happy. He wanted you to get some sleep.”
“It’s none of his concern,” I said, mimicking Malachi’s cold words from earlier. “He needs to focus on patrolling the East Side and making sure no one gets dragged away. Let’s leave him to it, okay?”
“Far be it from me to interfere.”
“Thanks. And Jim? No drinking. No … doing other things. Remember what we talked about.”
“Sure, Captain.”
Ian came out of the field house carrying a long duffel bag. His hair was wet from the shower, and he’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved sweater that was snug across his chest and shoulders.
“Hey,” he greeted, his face brightening with his dimpled smile.
I clicked my phone off without saying good-bye to Jim, my mouth suddenly a little too dry as I processed what Tegan had said about Ian. “Hi. I assume we’re going to Tegan’s?”
He looked down at his feet. “Would you mind if we didn’t?”
If we went to Tegan’s, I could help Jim guard the others. If we went somewhere else, all I’d have to do was guard Ian, although, looking up at all six feet four inches of him, it didn’t really look like he needed it. If we were alone, I might have to worry more about guarding myself.
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “What else did you want to do?”
Without raising his head, he said, “Movie? I just … don’t want to think about anything. I want to do something fun.”
He’d echoed my wishes exactly. I didn’t want to be a friend in mourning. I didn’t want to be a Guard. I wanted to be a girl. A normal girl. One who went to movies and ate popcorn and didn’t kill people. For just one night.
“Sounds good,” I whispered.
He drove us to the mall, where we stuffed ourselves with burgers and fries. It turned out he was going to URI, too, and so we chatted about majors and classes and baseball and photography. We didn’t talk about Aden or Nadia. We didn’t talk about Malachi. I didn’t have to think about death or killing or saving the world.
It felt awesome.
He drove us to the movie theater, and we chose a comedy. I was thankful he didn’t want to watch the latest zombies-taking-over-the-world thriller, which hit a little too close to home. He insisted on paying for our tickets and bought us a bucket of popcorn. I laughed as he handed it to me. “You’re not still hungry, are you?”
He grinned. “Are you kidding? I’m always hungry. I also eat when I’m nervous.”
“Are you nervous?”
He gave me a look that said I should be able to figure it out. “Come on. I love the previews.”
We were the first people in the theater and had our pick of seats. We settled in, my stomach knotting. I was alone. In the dark. With a guy who was not Malachi.
I grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in my mouth.
Ian chuckled. “Do you eat when you’re nervous, too?” he whispered, his eyes full of mischief.
People trickled steadily into the theater, which cut the tension a little. We even recognized a few of them. “I hope you’re ready for the gossip on Facebook,” I muttered, watching Caroline from my lit class, tap-tap-tapping away on her phone as she shot us curious glances every few seconds.
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, slouching down and nudging me with his shoulder. “Should we have worn disguises?”
I nudged him back. “That might have been smart.” I couldn’t help but lean in. His smile was so inviting. His face was only a few inches from mine. His green eyes were bright, even in the semidark of the theater. His breath smelled like popcorn.
And incense.
TWENTY
I JERKED BACK. HIS eyes grew wide as he registered the look on my face. “What’s wrong, Lela?”
The lights dimmed and thunderous music filled the theater as the previews started. I leaned forward and inhaled, and he stayed still for me, his expression frozen in a lopsided smile. But I’d been with him all evening, and the scent wasn’t coming from him. Which meant it was someone else inside this theater, maybe many someone elses. My fingers drifted toward my waist, where I kept my knife. Shit. I couldn’t take it to school with me, and I hadn’t gone home before the baseball game. I bowed my head, near enough that his hair brushed my cheek, and whispered in his ear, “Do you recognize that smell?”
Ian’s eyes strayed to the screen, but he wasn’t watching. He inhaled deeply, and then every line of his body went tense. He nodded, like I thought he might. It would have been how Aden smelled the night he became a Mazikin.
As the previews played on, I looked around the theater. I couldn’t see very well, but I could still make out a few of our classmates staring at us from a few rows back. Caroline and her friends. Could they be … ?
A few guys walked into the theater, buckets of popcorn in hand. A guy sitting in our row half-stood up, waving at them, and then he turned his head and looked at me. I nearly flinched … and when I heard the low coughing and grunting coming from behind us, I did, swinging my head around as my fingers burrowed into Ian’s sleeve. From the far left side of the room came a clicking canine laughter.
Someone brushed the back of my neck.
I jumped to my feet. The startled couple behind me stared at me like they were too scared to ask me to sit down. Ian tugged on my sleeve. “Are you okay?”
I dropped back into my seat, scanning the crowd. We were surrounded by Mazikin. I grabbed his hand. “We have to go, all right?”
“What?” he whispered. “The smell isn’t that strong. Just because there’s a stoner—”
I was nose to nose with him before he finished his sentence. “Ian, get your ass up out of that chair and come with me. Right. Now.”
He looked at me like I was insane, but he let me pull him out of his seat and drag him along the row, stumbling over people’s feet. I was barely watching where I was going—I was too busy looking behind me to see if anyone was following us. Caroline and her girlfriends stared and whispered, but stayed in their seats. When we got to the aisle, I pushed Ian in front of me. “Watch your step. Come on. The emergency exit.”
Ian had parked around the side of the theater because it had been so crowded. His SUV had to be close to this exit. All we had to do was get to it.
A woman wearing a high ponytail and heavy black eye makeup stood up and stepped into the middle aisle, and I recognized her—she was the Mazikin that Jim had chased to the gas station. With her gaze on Ian, she descended the steps in parallel with us. My hand settled on Ian’s waist as I urged him forward. We would make it to the door before she did. Then I caught a sudden movement in my periphery. Holy crap. Two scruffy teenagers were now on the aisle steps behind us, coming down from one of the back rows.
Ian stopped suddenly, and I ran into his back. “Excuse me,” he said to someone in front of him as a dizzying wall of scent washed over us. I grabbed a handful of his shirt to pull him back.
“Hey!” he shouted, ducking to avoid the swipe of a clawed hand. The girls in the row next to us screamed as Ian jerked his arm forward and
punched the Mazikin in front of him, a skinny gray-haired guy who went flying into the laps of the girls.
“Go go go!” I barked, but it was unnecessary. Ian’s hand closed around mine, and he pulled me toward the exit. We reached it a few steps ahead of the ponytailed woman. I kicked her away as Ian ripped the door open and yanked me through it.
“What the fuck?” he yelled, spinning around to face the woman and the two teens who had followed us out.
The three of them had taken a few steps toward us when an usher from the theater poked his head out the door. “I’m calling the police!” he said in a tremulous voice.
The ponytailed Mazikin turned around and crouched low, hissing at him. The usher gave me a quick, scared glance before he pulled the door shut, locking us out.
“You heard the guy,” I said to the Mazikin. “The police are coming. You better get out of here.”
The Mazikin tilted their heads. “No sirens,” said one of the teenage guys, his shirt stretched tightly over his protruding belly. “Boy,” he said, pointing at Ian. “We are here to retrieve you.”
“This one. She’s one of them,” rasped Ponytail, pointing at me. She looked over at her comrades and began to cough and grunt in that hideous Mazikin language.
I cursed as three more Mazikin rounded the corner of the theater and assembled themselves on our right flank. This was a full-scale ambush. They’d been watching. They’d followed us, not knowing I was a Guard at first; their eyes were on Ian. Just as I’d suspected, Ibram had made him a target.
“Ian,” I said softly. “I want you to run. Get to your car.”
His hand tightened over mine as he backed up toward the parking lot. “You’re kidding, right?”
I squeezed his hand and then let it go. “I’m sorry about this.”
The skinny gray-haired guy burst out of the theater, wiping blood from his face. He bared his teeth, revealing that they had been filed to sharp points. “Girl with the hair,” he snarled at me, recognition burning in his eyes, “I didn’t realize you were protecting this one, but I’m glad.” He swept his clawed hands in our direction.
The Mazikin all charged at once, and Ian took off, sprinting away with incredible speed. Two of the Mazikin went after him. I only had time to feel a flash of fear for him before Ponytail was on me. I kicked her in the stomach and elbowed her in the neck, and then caught her arm and swung her into her chubby pal. Another Mazikin jumped on my back, so I bent forward sharply and dumped him on the ground, where I stomped on his neck and punched another oncoming Mazikin in the face.
My knuckles split. My fingers throbbed. I heard Malachi’s voice in my head, calm and sure, reminding me to use my elbows and knees. To keep my movements short and quick to avoid giving them anything to hold on to.
But the odds weren’t good. I was weaponless, facing down a bunch of able-bodied Mazikin. I might have made several of them bleed, but there was no way I was going to win. I pivoted on my heel and took off toward the road, weaving in and out of the parked cars, followed by the heavy pants and hard pelting sound of a Mazikin’s four-legged lope, getting closer by the second.
Its weight slammed into my back and its sharpened fangs tore through my sleeve and into my flailing forearm, sending me crashing into a median lined with square green shrubs. A few people screamed, and I knew we had an audience. Which was a shame. Because I was ready to kill this Mazikin with my bare hands. I suspected I knew who he was—I’d only met one Mazikin that filed its teeth. My arm was held tight in his jaws, so I rolled over on him and pressed down with all my weight. “Is that you, Clarence?” I huffed, determined to knock his fangs down his throat. “Did you think we’d make it easy?”
His eyes bugged out—but they also sparked at the mention of his name. He tried to close his teeth and take a hunk of my flesh, but I punched him in the side. He let go of my arm.
Tires screeched. Another Mazikin landed on my back. “Stupid girl,” Clarence hissed as his friend began to yank me up. “Now you’re ours. Sil will be thrilled that I caught you.”
The Mazikin on top of me grabbed a handful of my hair, but then it shrieked and jerked as something hit it with enough force to crunch bone. Clarence’s eyes grew wide as he watched over my shoulder.
I scrambled to my feet and turned, ready to face whatever new threat was coming my way, only to see Ian standing between me and the rest of the Mazikin, who were coming around his SUV but looking extremely wary.
Ian was holding a baseball bat, swinging it with threatening precision. His first victim—the Mazikin that had jumped on my back—lay groaning at my feet.
The wail of a siren cut through the momentary silence. Clarence screeched at the others. As if they shared one mind, the horde of Mazikin, several of whom were bleeding and limping, threw themselves into four-legged mode and sprinted toward the far side of the parking lot.
“We have to get out of here,” Ian said as he grabbed my hand. He tossed his bat into the open back door of his SUV and helped me in after it. He hopped in the driver’s seat. The engine was already running.
But instead of peeling out, he calmly put the thing into gear and slowly drove out of the parking lot. I stayed low as we drove past curious bystanders, but realized that we had been hidden behind the SUV when he’d used the bat. If they’d seen anything, it was me running from a bunch of four-legged freaks.
“The windows are tinted,” Ian said, still a bit out of breath. “You don’t have to hide.”
I straightened up and peered out the window. At the far end of the parking lot, an old blue van swerved out of its spot, jumped the curb, and drove over the sidewalk, narrowly missing a couple who’d been walking hand in hand. To the soundtrack of at least a dozen car horns, the van plowed into traffic, swerved, and was out of sight almost instantly.
Ian took a more subtle approach. He drove to the main exit, never missing a turn signal, slowing at every speed bump, stopping at the yellow light. He turned onto the road and accelerated neatly to exactly five miles over the speed limit. I watched out the back window as two police cruisers zipped past us into the theater parking lot, too late to do anything but gather statements. Fortunately, the Mazikin had put on the big show. We were the forgettable ones.
My mauled forearm throbbed, and I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for the rescue.”
He glanced into the backseat when he heard my voice. “They hurt you.”
I looked down at my arm, examining it in the dim light. “It’s not bad.”
“Should I drive you to the hospital?”
“No. It’s fine.” I needed to get to Raphael, but I probably had an hour or so before it got really bad. I hoped. I’d never been bitten before.
Ian laughed dryly and shook his head; then he took a sharp right turn. He pulled into the school parking lot and stopped next to my car. His hands stayed on ten and two, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His shoulders lifted as he took a single deep breath. Then he turned around to face me.
“So,” Ian said, his voice completely level. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
I put my hand over the bite wound, wincing as I felt the sticky warmth of my own blood beneath my palm and the hot throb of the venom now being carried through my veins. Fortunately, my brain was fully functional, enough to let the lies flow. “You know these were the folks who sold to Aden, right?”
Ian nodded. “Same smell. Aden reeked of it that night. But they were after me. And they seemed to know you.”
“They knew … of me. Come on, Ian. You didn’t think I was a prep school girl, did you?” I prayed he’d back down easily, as soon as he was challenged. Rumors about me had swirled ever since I’d arrived at school, so why not use that to my advantage?
He let out a short breath. “No, Lela, I didn’t, but—are you saying you’re like a gang member or something?”
Never. But I couldn’t think of any other explanation. I shrugged. “Aden certainly seemed to think so …” I tried to move my fingers, but
my entire left hand was numb. I needed to get home. “I’m sorry, really.”
Ian shook his head. “You’re lying. I know you’re lying. There’s something else going on.”
“Look, um … I guess my past kind of caught up with me,” I said, wishing that killing Clarence only once had been enough. “But I’m going to try to make sure no one bothers you again, all right?”
He cursed under his breath and threw his door open. A second later, he wrenched open the rear door and climbed in next to me. I instinctively reached for the opposite door handle.
“Who’s going to make sure no one bothers you again?” he snapped. “Look at you. Your arm’s bleeding. They would have done serious damage if I hadn’t been there.”
Suddenly exhausted, I leaned against the seat, curling my bitten arm against my body as my hand hung limp. “I can take care of myself.”
He laughed. “No kidding. It’s part of why I like you. But we were attacked by seven drugged-out freaks tonight, Lela. You may be able to kick ass, but you’re not a superhero.”
“Never said I was. I’m just saying I’d feel awful if you got wrapped up in this.”
“Too late. You’re bleeding in my backseat.”
I opened the door and stumbled out onto the blacktop, clumsily pulling my keys from my pocket. Already my legs were tingling, as was my right arm. Malachi had been able to run for over an hour when he’d been bitten by Juri in the dark city, so I prayed I could hang on as long.
“Lela, wait!” Ian hopped out of the backseat after me. “I wasn’t telling you to leave!”
“I need to get home,” I said. “I’m tired, and this could get infected or something.” I waved my arm at him.
“Call me tomorrow,” he said firmly. But the question in his eyes gave him away.
