Plagued: Book 1

by Eden Crowne

  “Julian.”

  “Can take care of himself. Go.”

  Bobby swooped in grabbing the rock singer away for photo ops. The gossip columnist barely even acknowledged me. Or maybe he did and I couldn't tell because the Botox had frozen out a lot of his facial expression. I decided to wait another few minutes before abandoning Julian. A foreign man approached me as I sat there alone with my tall glass of bubbly water. I put him off, saying I was with someone. Which only might be true. Did we have another objective tonight? I decided I didn't care, I would follow Albert's advice. Sliding precariously off my stool, I bumped into someone approaching the bar.

  “Hello, I was just coming to speak with you. Have you seen Savan around?”

  A man, maybe mid-twenties in a trim, charcoal-gray suit pulled tight across his shoulders stood at my elbow. He wasn't very tall, just a bit more than me. Asian, at least partly, thick black hair expertly cut short and combed forward in what I always thought of as a Julius Caesar style, shiny with hair gel. Not exactly handsome, he had what books called “broad, even features,” nothing out of place, yet not terribly outstanding either. His body language told a different story. I got the feeling he was used to getting his way. There was just something about the tilt of his head and the way his eyes kept glancing this way and that. As though I was somehow unworthy of his full attention.

  “Governor,” he said, putting out his hand.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Governor. It's my first name, Governor Chen, and you're Alexandra. Savan told me about you.”

  A prickle of energy resonated along my palm as I pressed it to his. Perhaps the other objective had found me. Not good.

  “Have you seen him? Savan?” His eyes stopped their roving and locked directly on mine.

  “We were talking a little while ago. I went to the ladies' room,” I shrugged, letting the sentence hang. Somehow, without knowing why, I felt I better stick as close to the truth as I could with him. He was still holding my hand and I wasn't sure how to make him let go. “I wasn't feeling well. I'm still not.”

  He looked at me appraisingly and far too long to be polite. I tried to keep my expression one of pain and confusion. Which wasn't too hard at the moment. Julian's crystal shard was miraculously still in my little pocket. Slipping the other hand inside, I squeezed it until my eyes brimmed with tears. Focus on the pain, I told myself, blot out everything else that happened tonight. The man kept staring and the prickling in my palm volted up a notch or two. Then, abruptly, he turned and walked away without another word.

  Definitely time to call it a night.

  Pulling away from Bobby, Albert waved towards the wall above the mirror and then me. I gave him a puzzled look. He moved forcefully closer, dragging the gossip columnist with him who refused to loosen his hold on the singer's arm. Getting close enough to shout, he said, “I'll send Blaze home with you. He'll see you come to no harm.” Remembering those long-armed hairy goblins Savan summoned, I gave a sigh of relief. Who knew what was roaming around out there in the dark?

  “He won't eat anybody will he?” I shouted back.

  “Well,” Albert paused, apparently giving some consideration to my question, “let's say nobody you know, at least.”

  The streets were quiet except for the army of taxis that roamed the night, the glow of street lamps reflecting off their shiny surfaces of green, yellow, red and blue. I hopped in one. The taxi sagged as if under a great weight and the driver glanced around surprised. Blaze must have chosen to ride topside. In minutes we were at my building. Actually getting into the apartment almost took longer than the ride home. The stiffness from being knocked around very thoroughly could no longer be put off by a couple of pain killers. Limping into the building and navigating the elevator proved a slow business. When I slipped inside as quietly as I could, I saw it was nearly three a.m. What I wanted first was a hot shower. The warm water felt indescribably good, though it stung my knees and shins fiercely at first. Soap and water could do little to wash away the grayness hovering around the edges of my mind. Savan's words scared me. There was no denying it. Perhaps this growing attachment I felt for Julian was not real. Magic could do that. Or so I'd seen in movies and TV. The potions and spells clouding my judgement, making me see and feel things that were not really there. I'd talk to Julian about it tomorrow. No matter how much he growled at me. Confront him with my fears.

  Practically crawling from the bathroom into bed, I remembered the Shadow Hound.“Blaze?”

  He blinked into sight nearly on top of me and I squeaked in surprise. Apparently he could be seen whenever he chose to. Here in the light of my room, the hound was a rather awesome and frightening creature, sort of a cross between tiger and timber wolf, the color of coals burning. Sitting back on his haunches, he abruptly put a front paw out solemnly for me to shake. I shook it, and the animal gave me one of those loopy, purely doggy grins. Impetuously I reached out and hugged him, my arms barely reaching around the broad shaggy neck. His fur was hard and wiry on top over an undercoat soft as down. He ended up next to me, taking up most of the bed with Coco squeezed in the middle. I threw one arm over the beast and to my great surprise fell asleep immediately.

  Just as he predicted, Albert haunted me in my dreams. He and I were walking hand-in-hand along Kensington High Street in London. I knew it was a dream because Albert carried a shopping bag from Top Shop in his barbed tail. Dad and I stopped fairly frequently in London. He had business dealings there and often took me with him on his trips when I was on school vacation. Albert and I walked up a flight of stairs to my favorite restaurant in London, Wagamama. Japanese/Asian fusion food in a relaxed setting with long tables where everyone sits next to everyone else. Wagamama means selfish or egoistic and it was my first Japanese word. Prophetic. Again.

  Preparing to give our orders, the waiter phased out and Julian stood there looking serious. Of course, he looked serious. He always looked either serious or angry.

  “She's under my protection,” Julian said, placing one hand on my shoulder.

  “That's exactly what I'm worried about, Jules.” Albert twined his tail in my hair and tickled my ear with the tip.

  Julian's brows came together in an angry “V” shape. “I am going to help. Really.”

  “Help her or help yourself? That's the question. Sorry, don't think I can just stand idly by with this one. She's special. You feel it. I feel it. Even Blaze feels it. Her soul is the stuff dreams are made of, to paraphrase the Bard. There's more going on with the Club and her than meets the eye, I am guessing. And you, as well. Think I'd better stick around. Besides, I can make her laugh. Laughter is the best medicine in keeping souls tethered to the earth. Well, second best.” He looked at me slyly, eyebrows arched. “You just frighten her.”

  “No I don't.”

  “Yes, you do. You frighten everyone.”

  I woke up then. Or maybe I didn't. Julian seemed to be sitting next to me on the bed.

  “Why do you have to frighten everyone, Julian,” I said in a sleepy voice.

  He said nothing, his face set and hard, and I fell back asleep, or at least the dream melted away.

  Chapter 29

  White is the New Black

  I woke shrouded in cold, white cotton. Oh no, I was dead! It had happened. The Soul Eaters had won, I was wrapped in a shroud. Screaming, struggling, I tried to throw it off, to get free.

  “I'm not dead!” I shouted. Several pairs of hands held me down and remembering the hairy long-fingered goblins, I screamed even louder.

  “Lexie! Lexie, it's Dad. Honey, stop. You're not dead, you're dreaming. Wake up.”

  It took a little time until the message finally sank in. I stopped struggling and my sight became more than just a white blur. A hospital room. How did I get in a hospital room? Dad held my hand, speaking softly as the nurse tucked the sheet around me and straightened the pillows, checking the tubes and needles. I had several IV's in one arm and a picture of turned-to-dust Keiko jumpe
d into my mind.

  “You were unconscious sweetheart, I couldn't wake you. The ambulance brought you to St. Luke's Hospital.”

  “What's wrong with me?” I croaked out. My throat was achingly dry.

  Dad had been a single parent a long time. Without me asking, he poured a cup of water from a pitcher on the bedside table, slipped in a straw and held it for me to sip. The cool water tasted wonderful, though it burned my scratchy throat. I was so thirsty.

  “Anemia. You're very run down. White blood count is,” he paused before going on, his voice quiet. “It's very low. We're giving you an IV packed with vitamins and nutrients to help you get some strength back.” He set the cup back on the side table and smoothed my hair away from my face. “The doctor thinks the imbalance may have led to these strange mood swings you've been having the past couple of months.”

  Oh, if you only knew, I thought. No, it was better he didn't. Far better.

  I was running a fever, my blood pressure was low, Dad said. I felt awful. Looking beyond my dad I thought I saw something move in the corner, a shadow. I nearly screamed again; had the Kiros spirit come for me already? There was a terrible buzzing in my ears like a swarm of bees and I felt the blood drain from my face. The shadow in the corner coalesced, just for a moment, revealing not a terrifying spirit of death but the huge, doggy grin of Blaze, standing guard as he'd been ordered. I sank back into the pillows, my heart still pounding.

  The next few days I slept away. My new found friends at the Tokyo American School signed a big card, delivered by Dad, along with homework assignments for when I got my strength back. Every morning a large bouquet of mixed flowers – roses, tulips, snapdragons, daisies, marguerites and many more – arrived in a kaleidescope of colors with a card signed only, “E=MC2.” From Albert, of course, a reference to Einstein's famous equation. Julian was most noticeable by his absence. I felt a little piqued, though I couldn't say why. Weren't we supernatural comrades-in-arms on the vengeance trail or something equally dramatic?

  Though I tried to put it down to spite or outright lies, Savan's words kept echoing in my head. The things he said about Julian and Caroline. And me. Snarling out the words as he lay there, bound and bleeding, accusing Julian of planning a black magical ritual. Needing me only for that. Not really my saviour. Of course Savan also told me Julian was making the whole Soul Eater story up. That, as had been proved rather too often for my aching body and bruised heart, was not true. Magic was real. My life and soul, however I wanted to define it, were in danger. No matter how many times I ran different scenarios through my head, the conclusion was the same: Julian was my only hope for survival. This game was way too deep for one very mortal girl. What choice did I have except to play along? I didn't want to believe Julian could hurt me. A menace to others undeniably; not to me. Please not to me. That moment in the Harbor alcove, he said he was on my side. I wanted to hold onto those words. He was a monster, yes. But he was my monster. We had a common bond against the Club; we were linked, right?

  At that point in my musings my inner voice would generally shout, “Reality check! You thought Savan was a great guy, too!” And I would tell my inner voice to shut up.

  Funny how 'weird' becomes 'norma' so quickly. The human mind is a strange thing, especially mine, I couldn't help reflecting. Me, Lexie Carpenter, wimp-girl supreme, queen of the nightlights. A girl who cried the first time Dad took me on the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland (I was twelve!), had managed to lose her soul to practitioners of black magic. Not only that, I was saved by a sorcerer, and now receiving flowers from a half-Daemon rock singer with a barbed tail. Oh, and his monstrous dog was hanging out in my hospital room. The Shadow Hound stayed loyally by my side only slithering up the wall to hang on the ceiling when the doctors or nurses came in. He took up rather a lot of room and the staff tended to bustle about. Blaze blinked back into sight whenever the coast was clear. He insisted on climbing into bed with me, springs groaning under the weight, to curl up by my side and watch DVDs. I wasn't sure how to keep him out since commands of, “No!” or “Down!” were met with his deep chuffle and a lot of face licking.

  For some inexplicable reason, I was not afraid of Blaze and never had been. When the nightmares of my waking life threatened to overwhelm me during my hospital stay, I stroked his rough fur and felt comforted. The room smelled a bit like charcoal and the smoky-scent confused the nurses terribly. When I could walk, I kept the window open to air the Blaze-ness out of the room. Meals were the one time he would obediently slide off the bed to stare at my tray longingly, all doggy-like and puppy-eyed, licking his teeth. Albert must have trained him not to beg. I fed him most of my three squares a day. Food just didn't hold any interest right now.

  Taka texted pretty regularly and even came by for a brief visit. He'd nearly given me a heart attack when I looked over to see him clinging like a spider to the ledge of the window outside my room. Especially since I was on the sixth floor. Pushing it open, he flashed a bright smile and started talking a mile a minute. Blaze eyed him warily as the kami squeezed through the narrow window frame. Taka had no reservations at all about Blaze, jumping down to eye level on the floor and scratching his ears with both hands.

  “Is this your dog? I love dogs. I have a dog. Well, kind of. He's what you people call lion dogs. He's really big, too. Like yours. With a lot of teeth. Like yours. I love my dog. What's his name? Your dog's, I mean. My dog's name is Taro.”

  “Blaze,” I managed to squeeze in.

  “Who's a good doggy, Blaze? Who's a good doggy!” Taka cooed. Blaze, obviously deciding Taka was one of the good guys, flopped onto his back and let the earth kami scratch his enormous tummy. Hiro, Taka said eventually through a whirlwind of other information, had sent over a vial of clear cold water from their mother's well to help me get my strength back. I swallowed it down and it tasted wonderful. He then pulled out a pile of chocolate bars from inside his deep kimono sleeve.

  “These are Crunky bars. Crispy chocolate. They'll make you feel better, really. Remember in Harry Potter how the professor guy gave Harry chocolate to feel better? Harry Potter is very popular in Japan. Did you read the books? I read all the books. All chocolate helps against bad magic, I think, but especially Crunky. Maybe only Crunky bars. Not sure. Coffee helps. A lot. Did you know that? I was going to bring you some strong coffee. Hiro said 'no'.”

  He chattered on and on and I ate one of the bars. Maybe it was the water or maybe it really was the chocolate, whichever, I started to feel better after Taka's visit. Much to Blaze's disappointment, I even got my appetite back.

  The hospital was hooked up with WiFi, which was awesome. Bridges needed to be mended with Brianna and Isobel. I'd hardly spoken to them in weeks. Never even acknowledging their birthday gifts. At first they wouldn't answer. Finally they typed a few sentences saying how very hurt they were by my long silence. Begging them please to turn on the laptop camera, I switched on mine. When they saw me on screen in living color – or absence of color – hooked up to IVs and pale as death, their hurt melted into sympathy and cries of, “Cher! Mon pauvre petit!”

  “I haven't been myself,” was about all I could come up with as an explanation.

  “You are like a shadow!” Isobel exclaimed.

  “That is far closer to the truth than you could know.” I ruefully agreed.

  I gave them an edited version of the party and meeting Albert. I downloaded the few shots I'd managed to take early in the evening of the VIP group. They were not satisfied with that pitiful offering.

  “Why didn't you take more!” Both girls shrieked in mock agony.

  Brianna saved the day by searching online for photos. At several top gossip sites she discovered screen after screen of them. It had been a very big event, apparently. If the paparazzi had seen what Albert Pantera was really capable of, it would have been much bigger! That tail! Those knives! I was in several pictures, one with Amber Lynne of all people. My back was half-turned towards the camera. A good thing, otherwis
e it would have shown my expression was definitely not social. My friends oooh'd and ahh'd over the Betsey Johnson dress and my descriptions of Albert Pantera.

  “He is the hotness that burns!” sighed Isobel.

  “Did you talk to the bassist? Or her mother?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “The band was in Tokyo making a new music video.” Brianna informed us, reading from one of the sites on her screen.

  “Are you in love?” asked Isobel with a soulful look.

  “What?” So startled by the question I jumped, disturbing Blaze. His head popped up, instantly alert for danger. Even more startled when the first picture that came into my head at those words was Julian Lake. The first time I saw him at that techno club, his silver hair sweeping into his face and those emerald eyes burning through me. Blaze gave me a look, head cocked. “Don't you start!” I wagged a finger at him. He stretched out his long tongue to lick my hand. Luckily, the computer was angled away from him.

  “In love, love, love,” sang Isobel, “with Albert of the Albert Einsteins. Are you in love with him? Oh, I am. Forever and ever.”

  Blaze gave a doggy grin and panted. Was it my imagination or was he nodding? He must be used to girls crushing on his handsome, flirty master.

  “I thought smoldering vampires were your heart's desire?”

  Brianna nodded. “One for weekdays, the other for weekends.”

  “But which is which!” exclaimed Isobel, her hands to her face and eyes wide in mock concern.

  We laughed.

  “But d'accord, he is gorgeous yes?”

  “He is most definitely 'yes' – gorgeous. And he smells lovely.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  Brianna put her face right up to the camera, so close her nose covered most of my screen. “You got close enough to savor the scent of his skin?”

  I had done precisely that. And he saved me from an evil Soul Eater, demonic spiders – which, admittedly he'd conjured himself – goblins and the clawed darkness. He also kissed me. Twice. Plus, I was babysitting his dog. Or the dog was babysitting me. And his best friend was either my savior or dooming me to an eternity of dust.