“Sebastian is a little sensitive,” Zane said unnecessarily. “We all are when people like you come poking around.”
Did he mean people who brush their teeth after each meal? I wondered, catching sight of something plantlike between his front teeth. “People like me?”
“People who want to study us like bugs under a microscope—”
“You tell her, Zane!”
“Who think we’re a sociological macrocosm to be dissected and analyzed, then served up in a report so you can get an A-plus in some moronic class that perpetuates the myth of modern-day society. But we don’t accept your mores and values, got it? We defy your definitions of what is right or wrong, and what is truly the norm. We defy you!” He finished off with a pump of his fat fist, accompanied by a loud chorus of victorious accord.
I looked around the store suspiciously. Seriously, reality shows were popping up in the strangest places these days.
“Now get out of here,” he said, breathing heavily, “before Sebastian really gets upset.”
I glanced doubtfully at the quivering mass of nerves at the back.
“Fine. There are other comic book stores, you know.” I hoped. “Somebody will take my request seriously.”
“Not in that dress they won’t.”
I turned to leave, the derision of a half-dozen adolescent boys licking at my heels, before I paused in my go-go boots.
Did superheroes take this kind of shit from mere mortals?
I mean, if I couldn’t face down a pack of Xbox addicts, then how was I going to rid the entire Las Vegas valley of twelve homicidal Shadow agents? Not to mention a being imagined into existence?
Turning back to Zane, I leaned my palms on the glass countertop, mostly because I knew it would annoy him, and pushed my face into his. The victory cries died off into a strangled and wary silence. “Look, forgive me for not knowing your password or secret handshake or whatever gets a person access into your labyrinth of anarchy here, but I need this information. I’m not really writing a paper. I’m not even in school. I mean, have you ever seen an undergraduate who looks like this?”
His eyes flickered, but the rest of his face didn’t change. “Then why do you want to know?”
I sighed loudly, then motioned him closer. Four bodies leaned in. Sebastian strained forward from his seat in the back. “The truth is, I’m a new agent for the Zodiac troop 175, paranormal division, Las Vegas. I’m the Archer, and I need to do some research.”
They all drew back as if propelled, or repelled, by a single force, but no one spoke. As Zane was nearly drooling again, I decided backing up sounded like a good idea.
“Shit, lady,” Wolfie finally said, scratching his half beard. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Yeah, man. We’re big Zodiac fans. Travis here has all the trading cards.”
His twin looked up at me. “I don’t have you, though.”
They all looked at me, wariness once again overtaking their features.
“I’m a new recruit. I didn’t even know I was superhuman until I underwent metamorphosis.”
Zane nodded thoughtfully. “Ah…a late harvest.”
“Ripe, though.”
I scowled down at Wolfie, who grinned.
“Show the lady where the Zodiac manuals are, Carl.” To me, Zane said, “I’m going to trust you are who you say you are, even though you obviously know nothing about your microuniverse and you have no identifying symbol.”
“Symbol?”
“Your glyph. You know, your Zodiac emblem? You’re not marked as an agent of Light or Shadow.”
Is that why they’d all been looking at my chest? I looked down, saw only impressive cleavage, then looked back up into a less-than-impressed face. I shrugged. “I’m working on it.”
Wolfie tugged on my hand. “C’mon.”
He led me deeper into the shop, passing Sebastian along the way. The boy peered up at me from the corner of his eye, extreme agitation marring his brow. Nothing, I thought, a little Thorazine couldn’t take care of.
“Boo,” I said, and he yelped and scurried away.
“Dang, this stuff itches,” Carl the wolf-boy said, yanking off his mustache as he walked.
I winced. “I thought you were taking hormone pills?”
“Nah.” He pulled off another tuft of his beard, studied it, then tossed it aside. “Model glue.”
I watched as he worked a roll of glue from his chin. “That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, my mom thinks so too. You remind me a lot of her, actually.”
“Why? Is she a superhero too?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Compulsive liar.”
A quiet chuckle from behind met that remark. I turned to find Zane leaning against a nearby wall of manga titles.
“Right here.” Carl stopped before a wood-paneled cabinet in the farthest corner of the shop, unlocking it to reveal an ordinary carousel of comics. Scratching at his chin, he looked from the rack to me and back again. He was beginning to make me itch. “There are two series to choose from, the Shadow side of the Zodiac, and the Light.”
I looked and saw that the series was divided into vertical columns. The only difference between the two lines was the spines. The Shadow side had a black edging to each book, with titles like Enforcing the Eclipse, Midnight Portals, The Opaque Vein, and Afton’s Epitaph.
The Light series had a silver spine, and included the titles The Luminous Void, Shadow Slayer, Lambent Moonlight, and, my favorite, Zodiac: The Desert Ablaze.
“You probably want the Shadow side of the Zodiac since you’re such a bitch and all.”
“I do not want the Shadow side.” I glared at him. “Look at me. Do I look like…like…” I glanced at the lead title in the Shadow series row. “…like Simone: The Mourning Butcher?”
Carl scoffed. “Oh, sure, you’re all Britney Spears on the outside, with your blond hair and rack out to here…”
I narrowed my eyes.
“…but looks can’t hide your true identity. It’s the eyes that give you away. You’ve got dark eyes…not the color,” he hurried on, before I could interrupt, “but the soul behind them. The intent.”
I leaned down until my face was inches from his. “Listen, you little wookie, I’m not a villain, got it? I’ve just had a really bad month.”
I straightened and reached for the first Light title.
“Stop!” Carl grasped my arm.
“What?” I said, yanking away. This kid was beginning to freak me out.
“If you touch that book and you’re not really an agent of Light, then you’re going to get the biggest shock of your life, and I mean literally! I’ve seen it before, and it ain’t pretty.” He shook his finger at me, a frown marring his furry brow. “A girl like you can’t walk around with those sorts of skid marks, if you know what I mean.”
I ignored the innuendo and glanced behind me at Zane, who was leaning against a wall, leafing through Spider-Man, but listening closely enough that his mouth was twitching. He caught my look and nodded, concurring.
I turned back to the kid. “So, you’re saying a Shadow agent can’t read the Light comics, and vice versa?”
“That’s right, blondie. Keeps the sides from cross-pollinating.”
“So if I’m an agent of Light and I touch this,” I said, pointing to the lead Shadow title, “I get zapped?”
“You won’t,” he said with surety, crossing his arms over his puny chest.
I didn’t think so either, but my belief had nothing to do with what series I touched. I reached for the Shadow title, paused just to hear the weird kid’s breath quicken, then yanked the title from its rack. Nothing.
“I told you!” He pointed, jumping up and down. I grabbed another, then another, and every Shadow title down to the ground as Wolfie continued to holler manically beside me. “I told her she was evil! Did you see?”
“I saw,” Zane said mildly.
It meant nothing, I told myself, then said it aloud.
“It doesn’t mean anything!”
Zane shrugged and turned back to his comic.
“It means you’re a freakin’ baddie, baby,” Wolfie said, jabbing his finger through the air. “A Shadow agent bent on death and destruction!”
I slid my eyes to the racks as he continued to jeer, then started grabbing more books. He stilled abruptly, mouth hanging open. I snatched the last Light title from the lower rungs of the rack, straightened, and grinned at him.
“You’re not supposed to be able to do that!” he stuttered. “Zane, what’s going on?”
“Guess you don’t know the Zodiac series as well as you thought,” I retorted, turning to smirk at Zane. “Comic books that zap you. Please.”
But Zane had gone chalk white, and the comic he’d been leafing through fell heedlessly to the floor. He stared at the pile of comics in my arms, then back up into my face.
“Light and Shadow,” he finally said, softly. “So you’re the one.”
I drew back, not entirely certain what he meant, but answered with what my gut told me was true. “Yeah,” I said. “I guess I am.”
Whatever that meant.
Dumping the pile of comics in the trunk of my car, I decided to walk the two blocks to the day spa despite my three-inch Christian Louboutin boots. Air was what I needed after the claustrophobic environ of Master Comics, though smog is what I got, toeing the sidewalk with cars zipping by me at forty-five miles an hour. I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, but it didn’t take long to realize it probably had more to do with my outfit than any paranormal activity. I gamely ignored the whistles and honks aimed my way, even from the group of high school boys who raced by again in the opposite direction just to comment on specific body parts, and wondered how Olivia had handled this all those years.
Unfortunately, the catcalls from the teens had elicited the attention of a group of workers doing pavement repair just ahead of me. They paused to watch my approach.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “Not today.”
One worker whistled as I waited for traffic to subside. I’d have to pass in the street to avoid the wet pavement. I ignored him, and spotted an opening in the wake of an enormous SUV. The same kids who’d already passed me twice. The passenger leaned out the window this time, making lewd motions with his fingers and tongue. This, in turn, seemed to embolden the three men on the pavement. Still ignoring them—a lone woman’s sole defense when confronted with the pack mentality—I stepped into the street.
“Check the unit, boys!”
I kept walking.
“You don’t want to miss this one, mijos. Sweet as a split peach.”
Almost there. I gritted my teeth.
“I bet her rim jobs could oil a semi.”
That one, plus the accompanying laughter, stopped me cold. Adrenaline surged, tsunami waves wracking my core and my vision turning red. The oncoming traffic was racing toward me again, and I still had time to spring to the opposite walk and continue on my way, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.
Whirling to face the snickering men, I caught the halfhearted attempts to cover their grins. Ignoring the horns blaring behind me—with irritation now, rather than admiration—I began to saunter back the way I’d come.
“Check the unit, boys,” I said coldly, the wind of the passing cars whipping my hair into snapping coils around my head. My heels clicked sharply on the pavement as I advanced. “You don’t want to miss this one, mijos,” I said, watching the laughter die on the faces in front of me as something in my face—probably those eyes Carl had commented on—revealed something lurking inside Olivia’s frame. “I bet her rim jobs could oil a semi.”
I stopped in front of the man who’d last spoken. He was my height; plain, not bad-looking. He shifted, and I answered his hesitant smile with a tight one of my own. Then I stepped forward, into his face, his space. Right into his universe. Staring directly into his eyes, I ran a hand over his chest, down his stomach, and into his pocket. The two other men began to laugh, a mixture of discomfort and excitement. I kept my smile fixed even as the man began to breathe hard. Wet cement clung to his fingers, and I could smell the McDonald’s breakfast he’d had that morning, the type of soap he’d showered with, the emotions seeping through his pores. I lifted his wallet from his pocket and thumbed through it.
“Hey.” He shook himself, as if from a dream.
“Is this her?” I said, flipping to a photo of a brunette. “She’s pretty.” I pulled the photo from its plastic cover. Karen, and his name was Mark. I saw it on his ID. I looked back up at him and smiled cruelly. “Too bad you’re right about her, Mark.”
“What are you talking about?” He didn’t quite manage the laugh this time.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I said sweetly, leaning into him. “The nights when she comes home later than you. When her lipstick’s too fresh, and her eyes too dark, and she smells like secrets and someone else’s soap.”
The other two men stopped laughing as well.
“Actually, come to think of it, mijo,” I said, pivoting partially to face the second man, “it smells a lot like your soap.”
Mark froze beside me, while the second man’s eyes grew wide.
“What?” I said, mimicking his expression. “You really thought he didn’t know?”
I folded the wallet and handed it back to Mark, but he didn’t see. He was staring blindly at his friend, who in turn was glaring at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, puta,” the man finally said, his eyes full of hatred. Someone should have told him the adage about protesting too much.
“Here.” I tapped Mark with his own wallet. He jolted, then took it, not looking at me.
It was then that I saw his hands were shaking.
A sudden wave of sorrow washed over me. Shock rolled into me like an earthquake, and it came from the man named Mark, who truly loved his wife Karen; and yes, who he knew, deep down, was having an affair with his good friend. What had I just done?
Looks can’t hide your true identity. It’s the eyes that give you away…the soul behind them. The intent. The Shadows.
Olivia would have never done this. I’d come over here intending to hurt these men, and I’d used this ability, whatever it was that Micah had said made me special and heroic, to injure an innocent. A mortal. A man.
My anger was gone. It was a small thing compared to the shame filling my lungs, strangling my breath. I had to get out of there, away from Mark’s injured gaze and the pain I had caused. As the two men began to argue, I turned, passing by the third.
“Bitch,” he shot from beneath his breath. And at that moment, who was I to argue? “You have issues!”
“You have no idea,” I muttered, and with that, walked right through the construction zone, my heels sinking into the newly poured pavement. I knew the sidewalk, my Louboutins, and the lives I left behind me would never be the same again.
14
I hurried the rest of the way to the day spa, imagining I could hear voices behind me rising in accusation and denial, anger and refute. I found myself wondering if those three men would ever work together again, if they’d ever be a team, or holler at girls in the street again. Doubtful, I thought now, but somehow took no pleasure in that.
Light and Shadow, Zane had said. So you’re the one.
“What have I done?” I asked aloud. Another question I couldn’t answer.
“Never mind you, darlin’.” Cher’s voice popped up seemingly from nowhere. “The question is what have I done?”
Halting, I glanced around the street. No Cher. Her Corvette was backed into an opposing slot, but there was only one vehicle in front of the day spa, a shiny red BMW. I walked to the other side of it to find her crouching furtively by the driver’s door.
“You hit a car,” I said, unnecessarily. “Again.”
Cher had to be infamous within her insurance company.
“It’s only a little bi
tty ding,” she retorted, digging in her purse. “Come on over here and keep watch. I’m going to fix this.”
She pulled out a bottle of red nail color and began dabbing at the door.
“Cher, this is an accident. You have to report it.”
“It’s not an accident until you’ve been caught.” She blew on the door and tilted her head. “Another coat, I think.”
The absurdity of the moment hit me, contrasting sharply with the moments just past, and laughter—somewhat hysterical, I admit—began to bubble up inside of me. There was no cruelty here, no nefarious activity or laws of an alternate universe at work. It was just Cher. Neither Shadow nor Light. Just my sister’s best friend in all her blinding shades of fuchsia. “You missed a spot.” I giggled.
“Thanks, Livvy-girl.”
I was smiling when he caught my attention. I sucked in a surprised gasp. The man stood between the building and sidewalk, too still. At least, I thought, my smile fading, I knew now why I’d felt followed.
“Hey, Cher,” I said quietly. “I’ll be right back.”
Her head popped up halfway. Barbie-Kilroy. “Who’s that?”
“A cop.”
Cher squealed and ducked.
It took both forever and not long enough to reach Ben’s side.
So much to say, yet no words would ever be enough. So I said the simplest, truest thing that came to mind. “God, Ben. You look like shit.”
His half laugh came out strangled, like he hadn’t used it in a very long time. “And you look beautiful. As usual.”
He’d always been rugged, even as a boy, but now there was more sadness than toughness lining his face, and his penchant for imagining and brooding lived too close to the surface of his eyes. I sucked in a breath of salty sorrow. “I know you’re undercover, but do they really let you go into work like that?”
He glanced down, shrugged. “I’m kinda taking some time off.”
“How much time?”
“Just a bit. Just until I get my head together. I don’t know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “How have you been, Olivia?”
The Scent of Shadows sotz-1 Page 20
