Prom Nights from Hell

by Kim Harrison

  A lot more.

  The heartbeat was getting softer, harder to hear.

  “I’m so sorry, Sibby. I should have gotten here sooner. I tried my best, but I couldn’t get the handcuffs off and I was too weak and I failed and—” Miranda was having trouble seeing and realized she was crying. She stumbled but kept running. “Sibby, you’ve got to be okay. You can’t go. If you don’t come back, I swear I’ll never have fun again. Not once.” The heartbeat was just a whisper now, the girl in her arms a pale ghost. Miranda choked back a sob. “God, Sibby, please—”

  Sibby’s eyes flickered. Color surged into her cheeks and her heart picked up. “Did it work?” she whispered.

  Miranda swallowed the huge lump in her throat and resisted the urge to crush her. “It worked.”

  “Did you—”

  “Clocked him with the clock, as requested.”

  Sibby smiled, reached her hand up to Miranda’s cheek, then closed her eyes again. They didn’t reopen until they were in the car with the historical society behind them. She sat up and looked around. “I’m in the front seat.”

  “Special occasion,” Miranda explained. “Don’t get used to it.”

  “Right.” Sibby worked her neck back and forth. “That was a good plan. Trading outfits so they’d think you were me and not worry so much about restraints.”

  “They still went all out.” Miranda pushed the cape back. “I broke the chain, but I can’t get the bracelets off.” Thinking for some reason of Kenzi at the prom saying, Are you ready to unshackle yourself from the insecurities of your youth? Are you ready to own your future?

  “What happened to Plant Boy?”

  “I called in an anonymous tip telling them where to find him and the bodies of the guards he shot. He should be on his way to jail.”

  “How did you know you were right? That he was trying to trick us?”

  “I can tell when people are lying.”

  “How?”

  “Different things. Little gestures. Mostly by listening to their heartbeats.”

  “Like if they speed up, they’re lying?”

  “Everyone is different. You need to know how they react when they’re telling the truth to know how they react when they’re lying. His heartbeat gets slower, more even when he lies, like he’s trying to be extra careful.”

  Sibby looked at her more closely. “You can hear people’s heartbeats?”

  “I hear a lot of things.”

  Sibby took that in. “When Plant Boy was strangling me because he thought I was you? He called me Princess. And said some people thought you had superpowers like a teen Wonder Woman or something.”

  Miranda felt her chest get tight. “He did?”

  “And he said there was a bounty on your head. Alive or dead. Although I’m sorry to say that I’m worth ten times as much as you are.”

  “It’s not nice to brag.”

  “Is it true? That you’re Wonder Woman?”

  “Maybe the lack of oxygen went to your head but Wonder Woman is a comic-book character. Made up. I’m a real, normal person.”

  Sibby snorted. “You are definitely not normal. You’re totally neurotic.” A pause. “That wasn’t an answer. Are you really a princess with superpowers?”

  “Are you really a sacred prophet who knows everything that is going to happen?”

  Their eyes met. Neither of them said anything.

  Sibby stretched, sprawling out over the front seat, and Miranda turned up the radio and they drove on in silence, both of them smiling.

  After a few miles Sibby said, “I’m starving. Could we stop for a burger?”

  “Yeah, but we’re on a schedule, so no kissing strange guys.”

  “I knew you were going to say that.”

  13

  MIRANDA SAT IN THE car watching the power boat disappear on the horizon, taking Sibby wherever she was going. You have no time to relax, she reminded herself. Deputy Reynolds might be headed for prison, but he can still talk, and you know he lied about how he found you, which means someone at Chatsworth knows something, and then there’s the question of who put the bounty on your head and—

  Her cell phone rang. She reached across the seat to grab her suit jacket and tried to jam her hand into the pocket to get the phone, but the handcuff bracelet kept getting caught. She turned the jacket over and dumped everything onto her lap.

  She caught it on the last ring. “Hello.”

  “Miranda? It’s Will.”

  Her heart stopped. “Hi.” Suddenly feeling shy. “Did you, um, have fun at prom?”

  “Parts of it. You?”

  “Me too. Parts of it.”

  “I looked for you after the bomb threat, but I didn’t see you.”

  “Yeah, it got kind of hectic.”

  There was a pause and they both started talking at once. He said, “You first,” and she said, “No, you,” and they both cracked up and he started, “Listen, I don’t know if you were planning to come to Sean’s place for the after-party. Everyone is here. It’s fun and all. But—”

  “But?”

  “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to get breakfast instead. At the Waffle House? Just the two of us?”

  Miranda forgot to breathe. She said, “That would be completely fantastic.” And remembering she wasn’t supposed to be too eager, added, “I mean, that would be okay, I guess.”

  Will laughed, his warm-butter-melting-on-breakfast-treats laugh, and said, “I think it would be completely fantastic, too.”

  She hung up and saw that her hands were shaking. She was having breakfast with a guy. Not just a guy. With Will. A guy who wore space pants. And thought she was hot.

  And possibly crazy. Which, p.s., accessorizing with hand cuffs is not exactly going to help.

  She tried again to snap the bracelets with her hand but she couldn’t. Either these weren’t normal cuffs or knocking out ten people in one night—actually eight, since she’d done two of them twice—was the limit of her strength. Which was interesting, her strength having limits. She had a lot to learn about her powers. Later.

  Right now, she had half an hour to find some other way to get the cuffs off. She started shoving things from her lap back into the pocket of her suit jacket so she could drive, then stopped when she saw an unfamiliar box.

  It was the one Sibby had given her when they met—could it seriously be only eight hours ago? What had she said, something odd. Miranda remembered it now, Sibby handing her the name sign and the box and saying, “This must be yours.” But with the emphasis different. “This must be yours.”

  Miranda opened the box. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was a handcuff key.

  Are you ready to own your future?

  It was worth a try.

  Hell on Earth

  STEPHENIE MEYER

  GABE STARED ACROSS THE dance floor and frowned. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked Celeste to the prom, and it was another mystery why she’d said yes. Even more mysterious now, watching her grip Heath McKenzie around the neck so tightly that Heath was probably having trouble breathing. Their bodies flattened into an indivisible mass as they swayed against the beat, ignoring the rhythm of the song thudding through the room. Heath’s hands roamed over Celeste’s glistening white dress in an intimate way.

  “Tough luck, Gabe.”

  Gabe looked away from the spectacle his date was making to his approaching friend.

  “Hey, Bry. Having a nice night?”

  “Better than you, man, better than you,” Bryan answered, grinning. He lifted his cup of bilious green punch as if for a toast. Gabe touched his bottled water to Bryan’s cup and sighed.

  “I had no idea Celeste had a thing for Heath. What is he, her ex or something?”

  Bryan took a gulp of the sinister-looking drink, made a face, and shook his head. “Not that I know of. I’ve never seen them even speak to each other before tonight.”

  Both of them stared at Celeste, who had apparently lost something she needed deep insid
e Heath’s mouth.

  “Huh,” Gabe said.

  “It’s probably just the punch,” Bryan said in an attempt to be encouraging. “I don’t know how many people spiked it, but ouch. She might not even know that’s not you out there.”

  Bryan took another swig and made another face.

  “Why are you drinking that?” Gabe wondered aloud.

  Bryan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the music will start to sound a little less pathetic after I force a glass of this down.”

  Gabe nodded. “My ears may never forgive me. I should have brought my iPod.”

  “I wonder where Clara is. Is there some kind of girl-law that demands they spend a certain percentage of every event in the bathroom together?”

  “Yes. Stiff penalties for girls who don’t meet the quota.”

  Bryan laughed once, but then his smile faded and he fiddled with his bow tie for a moment. “About Clara…,” he began.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Gabe assured him. “She’s an amazing girl. And you two are perfect for each other. I would’ve had to be blind not to see that.”

  “You really don’t mind?”

  “I told you to ask her to the prom, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did. Sir Galahad makes another match. Seriously, man, do you ever think about yourself?”

  “Sure, every hour on the hour. And hey, speaking of Clara…she better have a great time tonight or I’m going to break your nose.” Gabe grinned a wide grin. “She and I are still good friends—don’t think I won’t call her to check.”

  Bryan rolled his eyes, but suddenly found it a little difficult to swallow. If Gabe Christensen wanted to break his nose, he wouldn’t have much of a problem doing it—Gabe didn’t mind getting his knuckles bruised or his permanent record blemished if it meant righting something that was wrong in his eyes.

  “I’ll take care of Clara,” Bryan said, wishing that the words didn’t sound so much like a vow. There was something about Gabe and his piercing blue eyes that made you feel that way—like doing the best you could at any given task. It got irritating sometimes. With a grimace, Bryan dumped the rest of his punch into the dead moss at the base of a fake ficus tree. “If she ever leaves the bathroom.”

  “Good man,” Gabe said approvingly, but his smile twisted down on one side. Celeste and Heath had disappeared into the crowd.

  Gabe wasn’t sure what the protocol was when you got dumped at the prom. How was he supposed to make sure she got home safe? Was that Heath’s job now?

  Gabe wondered again why he’d asked Celeste to this dance.

  She was a very pretty girl—pageant pretty. Perfect blond hair—so full it was fluffy—wide-spaced brown eyes, and curvy lips always painted a flattering shade of pink. Her lips weren’t the only things that were curvy. She’d all but shut his brain down with the thin, clingy dress she’d worn tonight.

  Her looks weren’t the reason he’d noticed her, though. That reason was something else entirely.

  It was stupid and embarrassing, really. Gabe would never, ever tell anyone else about this, but every now and then, he got this weird sense that someone needed help. Needed him. He’d gotten that inexplicable pull from Celeste, as if the shapely blonde was hiding a damsel in distress somewhere behind her flawless makeup.

  Very stupid. And obviously wrong. Celeste didn’t seem interested in any help from Gabe right now.

  He scanned the dance floor again but couldn’t pick her golden hair out of the crowd. He sighed.

  “Hey, Bry, did you miss me?” Clara, her dark curly hair full of glitter, bounced free from a herd of females and joined them against the wall. The rest of the herd dispersed. “Hey, Gabe. Where’s Celeste?”

  Bryan put his arm around her shoulders. “I thought you left. Guess I’ll have to cancel the hot plans I just made with—”

  Clara’s elbow caught Bryan in the solar plexus.

  “Mrs. Finkle,” Bryan continued, gasping the words and nodding toward the vice principal glaring from the corner of the room farthest away from the speakers. “We were going to sort failure notices by candlelight.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want you to miss that! I think I saw Coach Lauder by the cookies. Maybe I could talk him into some extra-credit pull-ups.”

  “Or maybe we could just dance,” Bryan suggested.

  “Sure, I can settle for that.”

  Laughing, they pressed their way toward the dance floor, Bryan’s hands winding around Clara’s waist.

  Gabe was glad Clara hadn’t waited for an answer to her question. It was a little embarrassing that he didn’t have one.

  “Hey, Gabe, where’s Celeste?”

  Gabe grimaced and turned to the sound of Logan’s voice.

  Logan was also solo for the moment. Perhaps it was his date’s turn to exhibit girl-herding behavior.

  “I couldn’t say,” Gabe admitted. “Have you seen her?”

  Logan pursed his full lips for a minute, as if debating whether or not to say something. He ran a hand nervously across his springy black hair. “Well, I thought I did. I’m not exactly sure, though…. She’s wearing a white dress, right?”

  “Yeah—where is she?”

  “I think I saw her in the lobby. Can’t be positive. Her face was sort of hard to see…. David Alvarado’s face was all over it….”

  “David Alvarado?” Gabe repeated in surprise. “Not Heath McKenzie?”

  “Heath? Naw. It was definitely David.”

  Heath was a linebacker, blond and fair. David barely cleared five feet; his coloring was olive and his hair was black. No way to confuse the two.

  Logan shook his head sadly. “Sorry, Gabe. That sucks.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “At least you’re not in the stag boat alone,” Logan said forlornly.

  “Really? What happened to your date?”

  Logan shrugged. “She’s around here somewhere, glowering at everyone. She doesn’t want to dance, she doesn’t want to talk, she doesn’t want punch, she doesn’t want to take pictures, and she doesn’t want my company.” He ticked each negative off on his fingers. “I don’t know why she asked me in the first place. Probably just wanted to show off her dress—it is hot, I’ll give her that. But she doesn’t seem to care about showing anything now…Wish I’d asked someone else.” Logan’s eyes lingered wistfully on a group of girls fast dancing in a male-free circle. Gabe thought he saw Logan focus on one girl in particular.

  “Why didn’t you ask Libby?”

  Logan sighed. “I don’t know. I think…I think she would have liked it if I’d asked her, though. Oh well.”

  “Who’s your date?”

  “That new girl, Sheba. She’s a little intense but really gorgeous, kinda exotic. I was too shocked to say anything but yes when she asked me to go with her. I thought that she, well, that she might be…fun…,” Logan finished lamely. What he’d really thought when Sheba had all but commanded him to take her to prom didn’t seem entirely appropriate to be spoken aloud, especially to Gabe; lots of things seemed inappropriate around Gabe. It was just the opposite with Sheba. When he’d gotten a look at her mind-blowing red leather dress, his head had been full of ideas that somehow didn’t feel in the least bit inappropriate while her deep, dark eyes had been focused on him.

  “I don’t think I’ve met her,” Gabe said, interrupting Logan’s brief fantasy.

  “You’d remember if you had.” Although Sheba had forgotten Logan quickly enough once they were in the door, hadn’t she? “Hey, do you think maybe Libby came alone? I didn’t hear about anyone asking her….”

  “Er, she came with Dylan.”

  “Oh,” Logan said, crestfallen. Then he half-smiled. “Night’s bad enough without getting tortured on top of everything else—weren’t they supposed to have a band? This DJ…”

  “I know. It’s as if we’re being punished for our sins,” Gabe said with a laugh.

  “Sins? Like you have any, Galahad the Pure.”

/>   “Are you kidding? I barely got off suspension in time to be allowed to come tonight.” Of course, at the moment Gabe was wishing the timing hadn’t been so helpful. “I’m lucky I didn’t get expelled.”

  “Mr. Reese had it coming. Everyone knows that.”

  “Yeah, he did,” Gabe said, a sudden edge sharpening his tone. Everyone at school was wary of Mr. Reese, but there wasn’t much they could do until the math teacher crossed a line he shouldn’t have. All the upperclassmen knew about Mr. Reese, too, but Gabe wasn’t about to stand by while he stalked that clueless freshman kid…. Still, knocking out a teacher was a bit extreme. There was probably some better way to have handled the situation. His parents had been supportive, though, as usual.

  Logan interrupted his thoughts. “Maybe we should take off,” Logan said.

  “I’d feel bad—if Celeste needs a way home…”

  “That girl is not your type, Gabe.” She’s pure evil—and a full-on whore, Logan could have added, but those just weren’t the kinds of things you wanted to say about any girl while Gabe was in hearing range. “Let her get a ride with the guy sticking his tongue down her throat.”

  Gabe sighed and shook his head. “I’ll wait to make sure she’s okay.”

  Logan groaned. “I can’t believe you asked her. Well, can we ditch out long enough to pick up a few decent CDs at least? Then we could hijack that pile of crap the DJ’s playing….”

  “I like the way you think. I wonder if the limo driver would mind a side trip….”

  Logan and Gabe ended up in a mock argument over the best CDs to retrieve—the top five were obvious, but from there down the list was a little more subjective—both of them having a better time than they’d had all evening.