by Sarah Fine
I laughed. “Good thinking.” I was surprised I could actually get the words out; the feel of his body against mine was rapidly turning my bones and brain to jelly. It took everything I had not to lean my head against his chest, not to stare without blinking at the harsh beauty of his face.
We were barely moving, barely swaying, but under my skin, there were earthquakes, tidal waves. Solar flares. I’d danced with Ian a few times tonight, and it had been fun, but it hadn’t felt like this. No one else could affect me like this. No one else could simultaneously terrify me and fill me with this kind of warmth. I didn’t want it to be this way. I didn’t like the idea that anyone had that firm a grip on my heart, especially someone who had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with said heart. But I’d fought it for so long, and there was nothing to do now but admit defeat. Whether he wanted me or not, I was his. Only his.
My rebellious fingers rose from his shoulder to the back of his neck, seeking skin-to-skin contact. And when it happened, his eyes fell shut for a moment before his expression shifted into playful and casual once again. Was I making that up, that I’d affected him like that? Was I imagining that the steely arm around my back tightened, pulling me even closer? Was I the only one who felt the electricity as his fingers slid up to brush the bare skin of my back?
“Are you having a good time?” I asked, hating the way it came out breathless and halting.
He shrugged. “It’s been a complicated evening. You? Is he treating you well?” His eyes looked black in the low lights, and they were focused on mine, waiting for my answer.
“Ian is totally nice. I don’t think he has a mean bone in his body.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his eyes honing in on where Ian and Laney were dancing.
I glanced over, too, to see Ian pull Laney close and guide her head to his shoulder. He cradled her tenderly, stroking her silky red hair as they swayed to the music. Fear for him zipped through me at the frightening image of him facing off with Malachi, a matchup that wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. “They’ve been friends since elementary school,” I said quickly. “I’m sure he’s just—”
“He’s comforting her,” Malachi said quietly, turning back to me.
A million questions flashed into my head, but I never had the chance to ask them.
Because at that exact moment, the Mazikin came crashing into the Warwick High prom.
THIRTY-ONE
A RAIL-THIN TEENAGER WEARING a stained suit and skinny tie vaulted onto one of the tables, kicking aside the centerpiece. He squinted at the dance floor, and as soon as his eyes landed on me, he was in motion. Diving onto all fours, he threw himself onto another table, sliding on the tablecloth before taking another leap on his way to me. Kids lunged out of the way, screaming as a second Mazikin bounded into the room, a muscular guy whose blond dreads looked like a lion’s mane. He, too, was wearing a suit. A bow tie, even.
The two of them had eyes only for me. Snarling, they made their way across the huge room, punching and knocking aside anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way.
Malachi released me, and both of us were reaching for our knives when Levi nailed the thin Mazikin midair—with a chair. The impact sent the Mazikin to the ground, bleeding and dazed.
The other Mazikin roared when he saw his friend go down, and he lunged for Levi, but Jim shoved Levi away and shot a hard punch to the Mazikin’s stomach before leaping into the air and performing the most acrobatic kick I’d ever seen. He landed on his hands. The Mazikin landed facedown. The kids nearest Jim gave him a round of applause.
Neither of the invaders had made it to the dance floor. Not even close. Two security guards ran in a second later, having heard the commotion. I could only assume they’d let these guys in thinking they were students. One of them lifted a phone to his ear as he leaned over the skinny Mazikin. A bunch of our classmates crowded around the guards, all talking at once about how these guys had crashed our prom.
“I’m calling the police,” one security guard finally said in a loud voice.
The other security guard held up his hands. “We’ve got this under control, kids.” He stood over the blond Mazikin like he’d been the one to take the guy down.
Levi chuckled between heavy breaths. He turned to catch Jillian in his arms, grinning as she practically wrapped herself around him. Jim straightened up, not yet ready to relax. He cast a sidelong glance at Malachi and me while he ran his hand up his rib cage, probably wishing he could pull the knife I knew was hidden under his jacket. A security guard shooed him away, and he backed up reluctantly, dripping aggression. His posture didn’t loosen until he felt Tegan’s hands on his back.
The music switched off as a song ended, and the DJ didn’t seem sure he should load up another track. Most of the kids on the dance floor were staring at the crowd around the Mazikin.
Malachi looked over at me. “That was too easy.”
“I know.” We stood close as we watched the two Mazikin, who were now handcuffed but conscious, each with an overweight security guard sitting on his back. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of emerald silk—Laney. I turned my head to see her standing next to Ian. She glared at me while he glared at Malachi. I cleared my throat and stepped away from my Lieutenant.
Greg turned to Ian. “Hey, your majesty,” he called. “How do you feel about cutting out for the after-party early?”
“Fine with me.” Ian put his arm around Laney’s shoulders and spoke too softly to her for me to hear what he was saying. She nodded, directing her gaze at the floor. Somewhere along the line, I had missed something. Malachi had said Ian was comforting Laney—had they broken up? I shut my eyes and gave myself a hard mental shake, stomping down any stupid hope trying to take root in my brain.
The failed Mazikin attack had killed the party mood, and everyone trailed out to their cars, some of them stopping to give police their names to follow up with statements. I eagerly sidestepped them, leaving them to cart away our attackers and keep them off the streets for at least one night. My mind was focused on where the next attack would be coming from.
Our crew climbed into the stretch SUV to head to the after-party at an all-ages club in Providence. Malachi, Jim, and I had already checked it out, in case the Mazikin decided that would be a better place to attack. I scooted onto the leather seat of the vehicle, making sure my skirt didn’t ride up and reveal the weaponry strapped to my thighs.
Ian gave me a sad smile and took a seat across from me, next to Tegan and Jim, who seemed only aware of each other. Levi was in a fabulous mood, and I couldn’t blame him; Jillian was looking at him like he was some kind of superhero. They were like the opposite of Laney and Malachi, who sat several inches from each other, stone-faced. Greg and Alexis seemed to have gotten into some kind of tiff as well; she had her back to him while Greg kept glancing at his watch, like this was the last place he wanted to be. I sympathized. Then my purse started to vibrate. I pulled my buzzing phone from my clutch.
“I’ve been trying to call,” Raphael said when I picked up.
“Sorry. We had an incident at prom.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No, it’s fine. How is he?”
“That’s why I was calling. He’s awake, and we’re at the Guard house. He knows the location of the nest.”
My head shot up, and I met Malachi’s steady gaze and nodded. This was it. If we could make it there and attack preemptively, our friends might be safe. “Can you come get us at the Phase Three Club?” I asked quietly, looking apologetically at Jim. He didn’t notice, though. He had his tongue halfway down Tegan’s throat. So much for taking it slow.
I hung up. Malachi pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time; then he reached over to pry Jim off Tegan. Duty called.
The SUV braked suddenly, and then lurched over a landscaped median, tossing Laney right off the seat. Alexis screamed, and Tegan and Jim jerked apart. Greg’s fingers curled over the edge of the sea
t, his face and knuckles white. Levi banged on the thick plastic barrier separating us from the driver, but there was no response from the front.
The SUV veered, and one wheel bumped up on the sidewalk, sending off sparks as it took out a parking meter. Malachi lunged forward and drove his fist against the barrier. It cracked but didn’t give. The SUV accelerated sharply to the shrill of horns and the sounds of screeching tires as a few cars swerved out of the way. It jumped the curb completely and skidded onto a dark, narrow side street.
Malachi punched at the barrier again, leaving a smear of blood across the thick plastic, but the thing didn’t give. As the SUV swerved into the parking lot behind some old brick building, I looked down at my hands, at the thin pockets of steel shot sewn into my silvery gloves. Then I drew back my fist—and drove it straight through the barrier, shattering it completely.
A wall of scent hit us, turning my stomach. Our driver was Mazikin. But it was too late for us to do a thing about it. He was driving straight for the side of the building. The only thing we had time to do was throw ourselves down as the thunderous impact raised the back end of the stretch SUV high into the air before sending it crashing to earth again. The front end crumpled, and bricks tumbled through the destroyed windshield. I was thrown against the seat and then fell to the floor on top of several of my classmates as glass and metal crunched and popped, as everyone around me screamed. And despite all that noise, I still managed to hear the animal howls coming from outside the vehicle.
I raised my head and saw them, closing in on us from both sides of the lot, eyes bright and feral, hands curled into claws, with dirty faces and wild hair, old and young. They had found the perfect moment, when all of us had our guard down, when we thought we were safe, and they’d set up their ambush. And one thing was very clear: they had no intention of being gentle.
Hands grasped my face, and I jerked away, but they held me fast. “Lela. Look at me. Are you hurt?” Malachi asked. His face appeared in front of mine after I blinked a few times.
“Not hurt.”
His expression was grim, but his eyes were soft. “Good. Get up. And stay close to me.”
“But I can—”
His hands tightened. “They’re here to take you. Stay behind me.” All I could do was nod. His hands fell away from me, and he whirled around to face the threat.
The tinted windows of the SUV were spiderwebbed with cracks, but not yet shattered—until one of the Mazikin slammed a crowbar through the glass. Another did the same on the other side. With crashing blows, they hammered their way from the rear of the vehicle to the front, turning glass into shrapnel as screams once again filled the cramped space.
Malachi and Jim pushed our stunned, disoriented friends to the floor and hunched over them awkwardly, their shoulders pressed to the low ceiling. Malachi had taken off his jacket and thrown it over Laney and Tegan’s heads, revealing the full extent of his preparations for the evening. He drew two throwing knives from the holsters that ran down his sides, but had to close his eyes as he was pelted with shards of glass. As soon as there was an opening, though, his knives were flying to thin the crowd outside. With my ears still ringing, I leaped onto the seat and lunged for the crowbar as it came bashing through the window in front of me, ripping it from the Mazikin’s hands and stomping my shoe right onto the creature’s arm. He yowled and fell away.
“Lela!” Malachi shouted.
“I’m right here!”
I crawled along the glass-strewn seat, slicing my knees to ribbons but terrified to step on my friends with my titanium shoes. All the girls except for me were crouched on the floor, practically in the fetal position, whimpering and flinching. I couldn’t blame them, and I was actually glad they weren’t watching as Malachi hurled the last of his throwing knives at our attackers just beyond the windows. The noise was overwhelming: crunching, rending, shrieking—and growling. Snarling. Snapping. It was like being attacked by a pack of wild dogs, except they were smarter and could wield crowbars.
A hand grabbed for mine from the floor: Laney. She stared up at me with wide doe eyes. “Can you get us out?”
“We will, but if you have a phone, you might want to call the police,” I said as a pair of arms reached for me from the outside. Before I could get away, they coiled around my waist and yanked, slamming my hips and shoulders against the side of the SUV.
“I’ve got the girl with the hair!” the owner of the arms called, and the answering hoots of excitement told me they were all coming on the run. I reached for one of my knives, but a second pair of arms joined the first, and then I could barely move at all. I was bracing myself to be pulled into the night air and surrounded by Mazikin when a bat slammed down on my attacker, breaking bone with a dull snap. I turned my head to see Ian hunched behind me with a baseball bat, his eyes blazing.
“You told me to be ready,” he huffed, and then raised the bat and smacked another Mazikin dead in the face.
The rear doors of the SUV flew open as we were attacked on all sides. Mazikin tried to crawl through the shattered windows, but apparently Ian had warned Levi, too, because the guy was standing protectively over Jillian as he pulled a bat from his overstuffed duffel. He and Ian each took a side, swinging with deadly precision, temporarily holding the Mazikin off. With that cover, Malachi tugged his backpack from under a seat, and from it he pulled his baton, and handed another to Jim. We’d hidden extra supplies in our overnight bags in case the fight ended up in the parking lot. Malachi and Jim pushed out the back of the SUV, extending their batons into staffs and driving back the Mazikin mob waiting outside.
From over Malachi’s shoulder, I could see we’d already cut their numbers. We were now facing off with fewer than twenty, but they all seemed determined to get to me. Rage burned in my chest, shooting strength to my hands and fingers. I tugged my gloves up my arms, reassured by the weight along my knuckles, knowing Michael hadn’t been kidding when he’d said I could punch through concrete. I drew a knife in each hand and got ready to jump from the back and carve my way through our enemies.
A shout of pain from behind me was all the warning I had before arms wrapped around my waist, dragging me back into the depths of the SUV. A hand clamped over my mouth, and something metal scraped against my cheek. A heavy gold watch. I screamed against his palm as I realized who had been giving the Mazikin so much information about us. Greg. I didn’t know when or how they’d enticed him. Judging by the Hugo Boss tux and the watch, they’d paid him well to be their spy, and they’d certainly gotten their money’s worth.
Struggling bodies were all around me, and I couldn’t lash out with knives or heels because I was terrified of hurting or killing one of my friends. I tried to shout for Malachi. He was fighting for his life—and mine—just a few feet away, thinking I was safe inside the vehicle. Like it was all going down in slow motion, I watched his clipped, precise, and devastating swings as he drove the Mazikin off. Jim had dropped his staff and was resorting to hand-to-hand combat, staying just outside of the deadly arc of Malachi’s staff. I was failing them. With a desperate wrench, I drew one of my knives and plunged it into Greg’s arm.
He cursed and caught my fist in midair as it descended again, stripping me of the knife with a brutal twist of my wrist. His hand stifled my shriek as the white-hot pain shot up my arm. As he dragged me farther from the rear doors of the SUV, I saw both Ian and Levi struggling with Mazikin, barely keeping the creatures’ jaws away from their faces. I was thrown onto my stomach on one of the seats, and Greg crashed down on top of me.
“She’s really strong. You’ll need more than one,” Greg called as he fought to keep me beneath him, mostly by squeezing my broken wrist, grinding the splinters of my bones together, making me fight to keep from passing out. Finally, he hoisted me up and shoved me shoulders-first out the shattered window, cutting up my side and shredding my dress. A body reeking of incense grabbed my arms and began to tug, pulling me out of the SUV. I kicked out at the last second, nailing G
reg in the chest with the deadly heel of my shoe. His mouth dropped open in stupid surprise, and he fell backward into the SUV.
The Mazikin dropped me, and I landed on my hands and knees on the asphalt, and then collapsed onto my chest as my broken wrist failed me completely. Rough hands ripped my garters off, stripping me of my knives. I kicked out again and again, and then lunged under the SUV, but one of them grabbed my legs and dragged me back. Once again, I tried to call out, but all that came from my mouth were wordless cries. I didn’t know if I wanted Malachi to hear those.
Two Mazikin, a balding man who looked like he should have been behind a desk and a woman with most of her teeth missing, gripped my arms and yanked me up, while another Mazikin wrapped himself around my legs.
“We’ve got her!” the woman called to someone over her shoulder.
I fought wildly, even as my wrist bent at a horribly unnatural angle and made me see stars. I opened my mouth to scream, but another hand closed over my face. This time, I bucked forward, caught a finger between my teeth, and bit down hard, choking on blood as a roar of pain filled my ears. I spit blood and flesh onto the asphalt. Teeth sank into my neck in the next moment, and I was lurched backward away from the others by the enraged Mazikin whose finger I’d just amputated.
“No!” shouted a voice behind me.
It wasn’t Malachi. Or Jim. Or Ian.
It was my mother. Or, at least, the Mazikin who wore her skin.
She tackled the Mazikin who’d chomped on me, and I fell to the ground, my neck and shoulder throbbing and buzzing. I lifted my head to see the Rita Santos–Mazikin struggling with one of the men from the homeless camp, the burly drywall guy who’d been putting the moves on the skinny waitress. He stumbled away from my mother, scowling. She leaped to her feet and threw her head back, meeting my eyes. Her wild hair flew around her face. She put out her hand. “Come.”
