I got back in the same way I’d gotten out, though I had a heck of a time finding the secret passage from the outside end. I ended up rapping on the ground of, like, a square mile of woods before I finally got the passage to open. By the time I did, my spankin’ new threads were nearly as filthy as my old. I wanted a long, hot shower to wash away the dirt and memories.
All of Team Alpha, which wasn’t out on maneuvers, crowded around me as the trap door slid back. It was like a balm to my soul.
“Where’s Marcy?” Pam and Vanessa asked in unison.
“Safe,” I answered, struggling to keep my bag of new duds clean in one hand, while pulling myself up the ladder with the other.
“Safe where—at the mall?” some boy asked, looking at my haul. I didn’t recognize him from school, so I was thinking junior or sophomore. His dark hair was buzzed perilously close to his skull.
“Yeah,” I said wryly. “She’s playing mannequin. Hiding in plain sight.”
I despaired of him completely when he accepted that for an answer. As the trap door shut behind me, Cassandra leaned in.
“Where, really?” she asked quietly.
I was spared having to answer when the double doors burst open and Thing One and Thing Two, also known as the beefcakes, stood in the entrance.
“Gina,” Thing One called. Just one name, like “Pink” or “Madonna.”
The folks gathered around me stayed put, not fading back out of the way as they had before. They might even have tightened formation.
“What do you want with her?” Cassandra challenged.
Things One and Two exchanged a look, at which the latter huffed and said, “Relax, she’ll be back.”
And I would, too. I’d beaten death and a hell of a scary psychic already. Everything else was cake.
“Thanks,” I told Cassandra quietly. “I’ve got this. Watch these for me?”
She turned, looking completely unsure, but took the clothes I handed her.
I stepped gently past my protectors, touched that they’d stood between me and Melli’s goons even for a second. I felt like the Grinch—not in the Seussical green and wrinkly way with bad teeth and no pants, but in the sense that it felt like my heart grew three sizes. I had real friends, people willing to shield me from the big bad. Maybe this new life didn’t entirely suck rocks, despite Melli-noma and her merry band of misfits …
Who all seemed to be waiting for me in what must have been a combat training room, all padded walls pocked with cuts and bruises. Bobby was standing wild-eyed in the middle. There was a chair there too, a single, gunmetal gray folding chair, into which Thing One pushed me.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
I glanced at the guys looming behind Bobby: Hawkman, who was looking completely psychotic and intensely focused, testing the blades of the knives strapped across his chest like Rambo’s answer to the pageant sash; and Larry, who was holding a sword and looking weirdly comfortable with it, like maybe he conducted mock D&D battles on the weekends. I felt like a nine-year-old called on to play the target in a stage show where the guy with the blades had the shakes. Then there was the dragon lady in the even deeper background, way back in a corner, where she could watch with minimal chance of collateral damage. Tonight she had on totally kick-ass leather pants that fit her like a second skin, and a scarlet top that came to a V so deep there had to be serious fashion tape keeping her puppies in place.
“Now there will be no holding out on me,” Mellisande said, venom practically dripping from her lips.
“But I’m not telekinetic!” Bobby protested, turning to her in horror. “Not so you’d notice, anyway. I can’t move anything heavier than a pencil!”
I wasn’t sure that was entirely true, not based on his excitement when he’d told me about his power. I couldn’t fault him for holding out on her, but from the tension in the room, I was kind of afraid to ask what had happened to the last target. I couldn’t imagine Bobby letting someone get killed, but deflecting the goon’s blades enough to save me without alerting Melli still meant pain and blood I could only recently afford to lose. No way did I want my person pierced.
“Well, then, you’d better learn, and damned fast. If you fail to stop the metal blades, I’ll be forced to resort to the fire-hardened wood. She won’t come back quite as easily from that … if at all. Or I can simply have Larry swing for the throat. It’s been years since I’ve attended a good beheading.”
Melli was going down. Meanwhile, I made a mental note of these sure-fire methods of vamp vanquishing, for when the time came.
“If you can’t control the weapons, control the minds,” she offered as a tip.
The beefcakes took up their positions as well. The model pulled a flip blade from his back pocket, and the professor faded back beside Melli, the better to analyze the action, maybe. So, counting the goons, it was three against one, with the possibility of two more joining in.
Bobby’s eyes met mine, and I could see him trying to find a way out for me. It had to be hard enough controlling three people without trying to be subtle on top of it … and the dragon lady had just taken that option away.
She didn’t give him any time to think of another. “Go!” she ordered.
As one, Hawkman, Larry, and Thing One all flew into action. Hawkman launched one of his throwing knives a half-second before Larry and the Thing lunged at me, bloodlust in their eyes. Larry gave an inarticulate battle cry, less Conan the Barbarian than Warrior Princess. My eyes squeezed shut instinctively, and I braced for impact … and braced …
The lack of pain seemed almost anticlimactic. I opened one eye, then the other. Before me, frozen in mid-air, were the weapons. The throwing knife hovered for an instant before dropping to the floor. The flip knife and sword did the same, their wielders struggling to lift them as if they now weighed a ton.
Mellisande laughed. It was nasty, but not the skittering chill of her psychic’s amusement. “Good boy,” she said. “You just needed the proper motivation.”
“Screw you,” Bobby spat.
“Perhaps another time,” she agreed.
“Bitch,” I snarled.
“The kind that will rip your throat out soon as look at you,” she answered. “And don’t you forget it.”
She twitched a hand and without warning, Thing Two, the professor, pulled some things out of his jacket. It was so fast that I couldn’t even see what they were before they were flying at me. Bobby, distracted, released the other weapons to stop the new threat, and the room erupted again. Only Larry, screaming bloody murder, was swinging for Bobby. I was paralyzed by indecision. Should I cry out a warning and risk distracting Bobby, fly into action myself and risk the same (since he could only focus on where he expected me to be), or freeze? But there wasn’t even enough time to think it out. One of the professor’s throwing stars caught me in the shoulder and I flinched, narrowly avoiding the other one.
Bobby ducked the sword and whirled, one arm flung out to knock the throwing knife coming at me out of the air with a burst of power that also shattered Thing One’s flip knife. Larry recovered from his missed swing and launched himself again at Bobby, at the same time Thing One switched targets, ready to throttle Bobby with his bare hands, one bleeding from the explosion of his blade.
Bobby let out a sound like a cornered grizzly bear and shot such a blast of power through the room that my hair stood on end. My skin tingled and pricked, like from a really invigorating body wrap, and everything in the room froze. Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse. I tested my limbs, but could only blink.
Mellisande’s glee, frozen on her face, slowly melted off, and I realized she was fighting the power. Her lips, when she spoke, were tight, as if she were in a mud mask that had dried solid and her face might crack if she moved. “I own you,” she said out loud.
But then Bobby flinc
hed, his face twisting like he’d suddenly been struck with brain freeze. His mouth came open as if to gasp, but his lungs weren’t holding any air. Sweat, red as blood, glistened at his hairline.
Slowly, so slowly, the rest of the room started to move as Bobby lost focus, tied up in some kind of mental struggle for control with his dam.
Hawkman had another knife ready to throw and Thing Two another star when Bobby fell to one knee, clutching his head. Time sped up again.
“Enough,” Melli said, triumphant. This time everyone paused on her say-so. “Take the girl back. The boy and I have much to discuss.”
I reached up to pull the throwing star out of my shoulder, letting the spurt of blood from it clean the wound. I wanted to hurl the star at the dragon lady so badly I could taste it, but with my luck she’d just mind-control one of her minions to take the bullet or whatever. Not that I had any warm and fuzzy feelings toward most of them, but what if she picked Bobby? Plus, I had the feeling I’d only piss her off. She might even try to control me, and my one and only edge—my resistance to her mesmerism—might be discovered before it could do me any good. I let the star fall to the ground and met Bobby’s pain-filled eyes as Things One and Two once again pulled me from the room. I could tell from the look on Bobby’s face that he felt he’d failed. I mouthed that it was okay, but he closed his eyes and shook his head in denial of my message.
16
The next night, the house was in an uproar. None of us belowstairs knew what was happening, not at first, but shortly after sunset the doorbell rang, and a few minutes later came the cry of a scorned woman. Then there was a lot of running to and fro, and some slamming of doors. Neither Alpha nor Beta teams were called out.
After the events of the past few nights, the mood in the dorm was tense. Some kids played cards, others talked or tried to read the spotty magazines, but deep down everyone listened.
A couple of underclass girls approached me, kind of shyly, as if they might scatter if I said “boo.” The shorter of the two spoke when I looked up, after taking in a gasp of air. “Uh, hey. Um, Marcy had said she’d braid our hair tonight and her being, um, away, we were wondering if maybe you—”
I grabbed onto her like a lifeline and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Well, thank God. I’m going so nuts wondering what’s going on up there that I was about to do something crazy. Sit.”
I pulled the thin foam pillow off my bed and threw it to the floor so she could sit in comfort. A tremulous smile formed on her face. “I’m Katie, and this is Di.”
“Hi. Gina, but I guess you’ve heard.”
“Yeah, kinda,” she admitted. “Did you really sleep with the entire football team?”
I was going to kill Tina Carstairs … with metal, so she’d heal and I could kill her again. “You’ve got me confused with someone else,” I said sweetly.
“Oh.” She blushed. “Sorry.”
“Sit,” I ordered.
Her friend Di produced a brush, and I might have been a little—vigorous—at first with the strokes, but after a while it was kind of soothing to work on her hair. It was thick and a really pretty shade of chestnut that went with her brown eyes. The freckles … well, concealer could take care of those, maybe take her from cute to junior-league hottie, especially with some sun-kissed copper on her lips and cheeks, maybe some highlights. On the other hand, the freckles kind of worked for her. “What do you want?” I asked. “French braid? Inverted braid? Weave?”
“Um, whatever?”
And she’d definitely have to lose the “um.”
I gave her a double braid into a classic bun. Made Katie look like a prima ballerina. It wouldn’t have been my thing, but it made her look dainty and polished rather than just cute, which everyone knew was a four-letter word meaning “let’s be friends.”
Di was next, but she had kind of sharp features and a braid would totally be too severe. She’d look like the kind of librarian you just didn’t cross.
“What about a cut?” I asked.
Di shifted from foot to foot. “Like what?”
“I’m thinking bangs. You’ve got such a high forehead, some bangs would totally soften you up.”
“Um … ”
I looked her in the eyes. “You going to wear the same hair for all eternity?”
She scrunched her face at me, but plopped down on the pillow her friend had vacated.
“Anyone got scissors?” I yelled out.
I looked up and found we’d gathered a mini-audience of girls forming a rough line-up where Di had been standing.
“Cuticle,” offered one of the girls.
“Anything else?” I asked hopefully.
Everyone looked to everyone else, but there wasn’t a set of shears to be found.
“Cuticle it is then,” I said, thanking the girl who offered them.
It wasn’t easy, and I practically had to go strand by strand, but eventually, Di had fairly credible-looking bangs. I fluffed them a little around her face, pushing the bulk of them off to the right in a flirty asymmetrical look, and changed the center part of her hair to do the same. She looked like a whole ’nother person.
“Tomorrow, makeup,” I said, brooking no argument.
She nodded and practically bounced off to get second and third opinions, since mirrors were totally useless.
“Me next?” asked a girl with a really heinous page boy cut. Even Catherine Zeta Jones had a tough time pulling that one off in Chicago. Page boys should have been outlawed ages ago, along with beehives, mullets, and fauxhawks—that cut for guys who weren’t edgy enough to commit to the full mohawk, which unless you were punk was another iffy look in my book.
“You trust me?” I asked.
She turned on the pillow to study me. “Maybe?”
“Close enough,” I said. “Turn.”
And before she could think twice, I started clipping. “Flinch and I’m likely to nick an ear,” I told her. Not that it was the kind of threat it could have been, if she’d still been human with only natural healing abilities.
I gave her a really modern, spiky pixie cut. She looked totally mod now, like she could go out and start her own band.
I smiled, almost able to forget where I was and why. Gina Covello, beautifying the world one girl at a time.
Then those double doors opened again—trouble every time. This time Bobby stood there, flanked by nearly Mellisande’s entire entourage.
“You’ve got two minutes,” she told him.
I rose and stepped over the girl who’d dropped to take the pixie’s place.
“Gina,” he breathed, meeting me halfway but holding me only by my hands so that he could see my face, like he was trying to memorize it. “I have to go. They’re sending me”—he looked back over his shoulder toward the dragon lady, and not with longing—“somewhere, for a while. I wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”
The council. I was sure of it. Melli-noma was handing him over. But why? If she was plotting something, as everything here seemed to indicate, wouldn’t she want him with her rather than against her?
“When will you be back?” I asked.
He pulled me to him then and held me. I breathed in that musky scent that was him and gripped him tightly. “I don’t know.” But I’ll try to get you word, he said in my head. I’m not sure how far my power will extend.
I tried not to react, but it stunned me senseless. I wondered how long that power had been developing. With Connor thinking hot toddies at me and the freakshow psychic crawling like critters through my mind, I might as well hang out a “For Rent” sign and get something out of the whole deal.
Knock first next time, I thought back at him, not certain I wanted him to hear. The one-way ticket was one thing, but I wasn’t actually sure how I felt about a boyfriend who could read my mind.
My mouth alone got me into enough trouble.
He kissed me then and it was practically one of the great screen kisses of all time … like MJ and Spiderman, only right side up. Bobby would love that thought, and I kinda had to wonder if it was for certain my own because I wasn’t usually big with the superhero references. Though, in my defense, Tobey Maguire did have totally hot blue eyes. But I wasn’t really thinking of Tobey Maguire then … or, not much anyway. Bobby was nipping at my lower lip, nuzzling my nose with his, his hands practically like claws down my back. I could totally remember exactly how I’d gotten into trouble with him at the after-prom party. The boy was hot!
“That’s enough,” the dragon lady cut in, sounding really peeved. “You’ve said your good-bye.”
Only Bobby didn’t pay her any attention. She snapped, and I felt him stiffen all over. Slowly, unwillingly, he left me to go to her.
Larry and Hawkman each took an arm before Bobby could buck her control.
Having been shanghaied the second I got back from rescuing Marcy to play the target in Melli-noma’s sadistic games, I hadn’t had the chance to report anything at all to Connor. I could only hope he sought me out tonight, because I wanted some answers myself. This had all gone too far. Kids dying to become Melli’s Merry Minions was bad enough. Kids like Marcy permanently disappearing—in theory if not in actuality—was another thing altogether. The dragon lady had given me way too many reasons not to trust her. She was playing a dangerous game with this mysterious council—keeping secrets, building an army, stockpiling weapons. I didn’t want my friends to be cannon fodder in whatever war was brewing, and I was not excited about my boyfriend being on the front lines.
The line-up for my amateur beautician services still hung uncertainly around my cot, but I’d lost focus. When Connor called me out, like, an hour later, my nerves were totally shot. I was starting to seriously consider nailbiting as a hobby.
“What did you learn?” he asked right away, as soon as he had me in the dungeon area where Bobby and I had necked just a few nights before.
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