by May, W. J.
“Okay. So we know her name is Camille Lachaise, she’s about nineteen years old, and her tatù is…well, unknown. Let’s spread out, okay? Look for anyone who could match the description.”
Devon cleared his throat, looking abruptly uncomfortable. “Yeah…uh…there’s no need.”
“Why?”
He nodded over her shoulder, and Rae looked around towards the gladiatorial pit she’d been avoiding thus far. It wasn’t some sort of death arena, as her warped imagination had previously thought, but there was a crowd of people cheering someone on in the center of a ring. Confused, she edged closer, weaving her way through the mob until she was at the very front.
Her jaw dropped wide open.
She had never seen anyone ride a mechanical bull before.
Chapter 6
For a full minute, the Rae stared in open astonishment at the spectacle before her. Devon, Julian, and Molly crowded around behind her, probably doing the same thing.
It was easy to see why Devon had quickly identified the girl as Camille. Every time the bull shot its metal legs up into the air, she lurched forward, revealing a giant tatù on her lower back. Rae shook her head; in her opinion Camille was showing way more than just her ink. Of course, everyone cheering in the crowded bar thought it was an actual tattoo, but the Guilder students knew better.
Slipping into another tatù of her own—Madame Elpis’ hawk eyes—Rae leaned forward to get a better glimpse. It was a very interesting ink, that much was sure, but she couldn’t really figure out what it stood for. It looked to be something like a fist; a streamlined arm of pure muscle slamming down on the top of her low-riding jeans. However, the strange part was the depiction of the air around the fist. It was like one of those children’s books full of holograms, where, if you tilted the page, you saw a slightly different version of the same design. That and the almost invisible waving lines emanating from the powerful design made it look like her entire lower back was shimmering.
Tatùs weren’t usually that big. Except Rae’s. She had one maybe slightly bigger than Camille’s.
There was a collective gasp from the crowd as the mechanical bull suddenly stood up on its front feet, bucking its back to the sky. This was obviously the point in the show where even the most skilled riders would be sent flying.
Nonetheless, the girl stayed harnessed.
She held on as easily as if it was standing still, waving her arm enthusiastically to the crowd and shrieking with drunken laughter. Money changed hands as bets were paid while the bull slowly wound down to a stop. She hopped off and flipped back her bouncy brown curls, taking a wad of twenties from a burly-looking man before making her way, grinning, to the bar.
“Well, go on, Julian.” Molly gave him a nudge. “Go charm her.”
“Me?” He hesitated, looking a little daunted. “Why does it have to be me?”
An image of the white-haired Angela flashed through Rae’s mind and she gave him an accusatory smirk. “Oh, that’s right, Julian likes blondes.”
He shot her a nervous glare, and opened his mouth like he was about to say something, when Devon sighed and stepped forward. “I’ll see what I can do.”
This time it was Julian who smirked as Rae stepped back, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Obviously, using her boyfriend as bait to lure a sexy rodeo star wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.
Devon slid onto the bar stool beside Camille, cutting in front of a long line of other men, and smiled politely at the side of her head. Rae switched tatùs to hear their conversation better. “That was a hell of a show,” Devon said as he grinned at the girl, showing his dimple. “Mind if I buy you a drink?”
Camille’s shoulders tensed as she sighed. “Listen, buddy, just ‘cause I rode the bull doesn’t mean I’m just up for—” She stopped dead when she turned and saw him for the first time. “Well aren’t you just the cutest thing I ever did see!” Her eyes grew wide and she tapped the tip of his nose with a red- manicured fingernail. She shot him a huge smile. “Of course I’ll get a drink with you. Truth be told, sugar, I’d be down for just about anything you’d like to do tonight. You ever grab the bull by the horns?”
Rae’s fingers curled into automatic fists. “Well…isn’t that sweet,” she growled under her breath.
Across the bar, Devon flinched apologetically—he could hear her just as well as she could hear him. He shifted slightly and winked at Camille. “Why don’t we just start out with a drink?” he said easily, grabbing two whiskeys from across the bar and leaving his money on the counter.
Camille slid her arm seductively into his as he led her across the room and to the booth on the far side of the building. She stopped short when she saw Julian, Rae, and Molly all sitting there, smiling politely. Except for maybe Rae, whose smile was clearly forced.
“Friends of yours?” she asked cautiously. She took a step back, and, much to Rae’s surprise, and annoyance, Devon fell back with Camille, his arm still intertwined with hers.
“Uh, yeah,” he recovered quickly, eyes flickering down to her arm with a slight frown. “We’re road-tripping to California, just passing through. This is Julian, Molly, and Rae.”
If Camille noticed the tender way he said Rae’s name, she certainly didn’t let on. Instead, she sat down at an empty seat, pulling him possessively with her.
“Well, that sounds like a lot of fun,” she said brightly. “And why exactly are you heading to California, when you could stay in Texas?” She winked at Devon.
He stiffened slightly, but maintained a fixed smile as she lifted her hand up and started playing with the back of his hair. “Actually, I guess you could say we’re on a little mission,” he said charmingly. “We’re going from town to town, looking for people… like us.”
Her hand froze behind him, but she maintained a careful smile. “People like you? And what would that be, sugar? Hot little Gypsies with sexy accents?”
“Gypsies,” Molly said purposely, leaning toward Camille, but still keeping a safe distance. She scoffed. “I do not dress like a travelling-dancing person or whatever Gypsies do. We travel on a different mission. We’re look for people with interesting…tattoos.”
In the blink of an eye, Camille slammed Devon’s head through the varnished tabletop.
“HEY!” Rae screamed, leaping to her feet as the girl rushed through the door. In the general chaos of the bar, no one else even noticed.
Julian’s eyes glassed over for a fraction of a second, before he muttered, “Red truck, white streaks.” Then he knelt quickly on the floor to attend to Devon.
In a rage, Rae rushed out into the night, Molly fast on her heels. She could just barely make out the girl’s bouncing curls as she ducked into the driver’s seat of a red truck with white racing stripes drawn on the side. Without stopping to think, Rae fired a bolt of lightning at the tires. It wouldn’t have made such a devastating impact, except that Molly had done the exact same thing. Pieces of rubber shot into the air as the two back tires exploded, dropping the bed of the truck onto the pavement with a pitiful shriek. In a cloud of sparks, the whole thing rocked to a sudden stop.
Molly took a nervous step backwards, half-angling herself behind Rae as the silhouette of the girl slowly climbed out of the truck. Rae was incensed, the image of her boyfriend’s bloodied face flashing through her mind.
Camille took one look at the singed wheels before storming back towards the bar. The air around her seemed to shimmer the closer she got, and it wasn’t long before Rae felt a strange tingling sensation prickling along her skin. This girl had some a seriously good tatù. Maybe as good as hers, but not quite. And hell, she was going to take it!
“Aw, darling,” Camille drawled dangerously, “you have no idea who you just picked a fight with.”
Rae pulled herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing in the night. “Neither do you, cowgirl.”
“Yeah, except we don’t want to fight—remember, Rae?” Molly whispered from behind her.
/> Rae cocked her head to the side as Camille cracked her knuckles. “One problem, Molls: this girl likes to put on a show, don’t you, Camille?”
Camille froze in her tracks before taking another threatening step forward. “How do you know my name?”
“Devon told you,” Rae said again, regaining a little of her composure and a little less anger. “We came here looking for people like you. You might be in trouble and we’re here to help—”
“Devon? Was that his name?” the girl said with a careless grin. “Pretty guy. Probably not so pretty now with his head bashed in—”
With a piercing scream, Rae launched herself at the girl.
Only to immediately fly backwards.
It was like the air itself threw her, vibrating at such a pace that she was lifted off her feet. She landed in a surprised heap fifty feet away, wincing as she instantly pulled herself up again.
Molly’s eyes grew wide when Rae had gone flying. She sent a few thousand volts the girl’s way before wisely ducking behind a parked car.
“I get it…” Camille laughed as she mocked Rae. “So he’s your boyfriend, right?” She laughed harder. “I should’ve known he was taken—it seemed too good to be true. Y’all picked the wrong girl t’ mess with.” She sent another shockwave through the pavement, and the car Molly was ducking behind rocked towards her.
Molly stifled a scream and turned to Rae. “Do something!”
Rae shrugged. The little dirt-bag wants to play that game? Fine! So Rae disappeared.
Camille’s mouth dropped as she whipped her head back and forth, trying to find her. A moment later, it was the flirty cowgirl who went flying through the air. Whatever tatù she had, it clearly wasn’t defensive. She had absolutely no protection as she sailed backwards and landed with a muffled crack on the asphalt.
Rae reappeared a few steps in front of her, watching as the girl whimpered and grabbed at her leg. “Listen,” Rae panted, “I don’t want to hurt you. We only want to talk.” She offered Camille a hand, but, instead of taking it, Camille pulled her down with such force that her knees made little craters in the parking lot.
“Ow!” Rae shouted, falling back on the ground beside Camille, who clearly couldn’t get up.
“Ahh, y’all are a bunch of amateurs.”
“Really?” Rae hissed.
Camille watched in amazement as Rae switched into Charles’ tatù to heal herself. The blood disappeared as the cuts closed up and vanished before her eyes. With a frustrated sigh, Rae pushed her hair out of her eyes and turned to Camille, ready for round two. But Camille was staring at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“Invisibility, strength, and healing?” Her brown eyes locked on Rae’s face in sheer astonishment. “What are you?”
“Rae Kerrigan,” Rae extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She figured the Kerrigan name didn’t carry strong outside of England.
The girl hesitated for a moment before taking it—a sign of trust. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, still gripping her calf. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or your friends. It’s just…Look, I’m always on the protective side.” Her head cocked to the side. She pointed to her back. “You got one of these, too, obviously.”
Rae nodded.
Molly cleared her throat, still hiding behind the car, but obviously annoyed. “And so do I.”
Camille shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I’ve never met anyone like me before. What’re you doing here? What do you want with me?”
“Is it safe to come out now?” Molly called out.
Rae chuckled, and even Camille had to grin. Luckily the park lot was still empty. The patrons of the bar preferred the entertainment inside, not out.
Rae turned slightly. “Yeah, Molls, it’s cool.” But she glanced at Camille warily as Molly made her way towards them. “Hurt her, and I’ll end you,” she warned under her breath.
Camille held up her hands. “Y’all are good.” She smiled wryly. “Besides, this is one fight even I don’t think I could win…”
“Molly? Rae?” Julian raced outside, tugging a half-conscious Devon under his arm.
“We’re over here!” Rae waved as the boys hurried over.
His dark eyes flickered over Rae’s casually reclined position, Camille’s injured leg, and Molly’s static-ridden hair. “What’d I miss?”
“Just the introduction,” Rae answered, helping him lower Devon carefully to the ground.
Devon was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and a steady stream of blood poured down from a cut on his head. “We all good?” he mumbled.
“Devon?” Rae asked anxiously, holding his face up by his chin. “Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Fingers?” His face scrunched up with a dazed smile. “You look hot, Rae. Like, crazy-hot.”
Molly and Camille snorted, and even Julian had a hard time keeping it together. Rae shook her head with a worried grin. “He’d better be okay.” The unsaid warning had Camille reacting immediately.
“We can go to my house,” Camille offered tentatively. “My mom’s an emergency room nurse. It’s come in handy with all the…well…my power’s a little hard to control sometimes.”
“Good!” Julian said gratefully. “We’ll follow you. Devon’s in no condition to drive.”
“Actually,” Camille’s eyes flicked to her truck, “I think my little baby’s out of commission for a while. Mind if I ride with you?”
* * *
Just like most of the other hybrids they’d come across, Camille’s house was perched on the outskirts of town, making it easy to leave at a moment’s notice. When Camille limped up the front steps and rang the doorbell, her mother didn’t seem surprised. What did surprise her was the slightly bedraggled-looking group huddled along either side.
“Peter,” she called without a second’s thought, “we’ve got company.”
A tall man stepped into view and opened the door wider, soaking in all the details before he asked, “Cam, are you starting a grunge band or something?”
“Nah, Dad. But they’re all good.”
With nervous titters of laughter, the five of them made their way inside. Camille marched straight to the medicine cabinet, pulling out a container with a red cross stamped across the front and handing it wordlessly to her mother.
Shaking her head with a little smile, Mrs. Lachaise sat her daughter down at the kitchen table and started examining her leg. “Let me guess—you got thrown off that idiotic bull down at the bar?”
Camille grinned, flinching slightly as her mother wrapped an ace bandage snugly around her knee. “Aw, Mom, you know I never fall.”
Mrs. Lachaise looked up sharply. “Well maybe you should start.” She gave her daughter a piercing stare before turning her attention to the rest of them. “So does anybody want to tell me what’s going on? Or should I just make the rounds and start giving stitches?”
Devon shuddered and half-stepped behind Julian, while Rae pushed past him to stand in front, ready to protect her friends in case Camille’s parents reacted the same way Camille had initially. “Mrs. Lachaise, my friends and I are from England.”
“I figured,” Mrs. Lachaise snapped. “Y’all don’t sound Southern.”
Rae swallowed. “We came to Texas to talk to you. You see…” she paused, a little uncertain how to go on. By now, her script was mostly memorized, but at least one, if not both, of these parents was gifted with super-strength, and she didn’t want to say something that might set them off. “We’re like you.”
One by one, Devon and Julian rolled up their sleeves, and Molly twisted around to show what lay near the bottom of her shirt. Rae held back, not sure if she should do the same.
An identical look of extreme worry shadowed Camille’s parents’ faces as they locked onto each design.
Screw it! “Me, too…” Rae turned around and lifted up her own shirt. “Except, I’m more like your daughter.”
Camille gasped. “What the heck?�
��
“We’re here to help,” Julian assured the parents, and, for the first time, they looked slightly less worried. They sat down and motioned for everyone to do the same.
Camille limped forward eagerly to examine the design on Rae’s ink. “Oh, that’s beautiful,” she murmured, looking at the glittering fairy. “That’s way cooler than mine.” She turned around to give the four friends a better look of the fist tatù.
“What is it?” Molly asked with a frown. “What can you do?”
“My dad’s got super-strength,” Camille replied, glancing at her father who nodded once, “while my mom can control vibrations. Put them together, and it can be a kind of lethal combination.”
Mrs. Lachaise laughed. “Hence the first aid kit.”
“Vibrations?” Devon frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t get it.”
Camille headed to the kitchen with a smirk. “Watch and learn, handsome.” She picked up a plate and laid her hand smoothly over the top. The porcelain began to quake and shiver, and the next moment, it shattered in her hand.
Mrs. Lachaise groaned softly. “I keep telling her not to practice on the plates. I’m going to have to get new ones before long—again.”
Camille just grinned. “Now imagine doing that…but to a person. Or a car, or a wall. It all ends up the same way. One tatù enhances the other.”
Molly and Rae clapped approvingly, seriously impressed, but the boys shared a worried glance that was not lost on either Camille or her parents.
“I know,” Camille said as she pre-empted them, her voice suddenly hard, “I’m a Class Five, right?”
“A Class Five?” Rae asked curiously, turning to Devon. “What’s that?”
He and Julian shared another look before he said, “The Privy Council has a class system to identify tatùs based on their…destructive capacities. Most people fall somewhere between one and two. Think of Alecia—a diagnostician at the hospital, or Maria with her telepathy; their tatùs are either neutral or can only be used defensively. Then there’s Class Threes. That would be like…Haley creating gusts of wind, and Rob turning into an eagle. In fact, unless the animal’s particularly dangerous, most shifters fall into Class Three. I’m a Class Three.” Devon grinned bashfully. He was perfect in everything, but, here, for what seemed like the first time, he didn’t have the highest score.
