by Holly Hook
“I've never heard of your group,” I said.
“That's because we're underground,” Xavier said. “Your dad never told you about us?”
“My dad mostly just talks about work. He's an insurance agent.”
Xavier burst out laughing, leaning over the table. “Sorry. I can't help it,” he said. “A vampire insurance agent. That's the most Normal career I've heard of one taking."
“That's the point,” I said. “We want to be Normal. That's all we want.” I felt the familiar pain rising in my chest, constricting my heart like a snake. Mom wouldn't have left. I wouldn't have screwed up so badly when I was eight...
“But you're not Normal,” Xavier said, catching a breath and facing me. “Neither one of you are and you never will be. Question. Are you happy right now?”
“Where is this going?” I asked. “Of course I'm happy. If you're looking to have us join your club, we're not interested. Sorry.” Practice was getting close to ending. It must be. It was only supposed to go until four and the clock on the wall told me it was three fifty and sometimes Coach Lancey wrapped up early if she needed to pick up her daughter from daycare.
Xavier took a step closer. His eyes were adjusting. I could tell because he was actually facing me and not bumping into the chairs. “Your father registered with us years ago. Most Abnormals are registered with us. We helped you both get your new identities and move place to place. I'm here to represent us. We offer you protection."
“We've been doing fine,” I said. This was a revelation. “I'll keep you in mind, though.” I moved back towards the door and put my hand on the handle, but remembered that he probably couldn't see the cue.
“Alyssa,” he said. “I came here for more than that. We're going to need fighters soon. Strong fighters. Some people in the city government have started cracking down on us. Cumberland's not a good place to be right now. We need people like you. You're strong and I have a good feeling about you."
I started opening the door, but stopped when what he said sunk in.
“Fighters?” I thought about him watching me at my fencing classes—maybe even my tournaments. “I don't, you know, kill people when I fence. I don't kill anybody. We all wear padding and it's safe. It helps me get my anger out. Sure, I have a sword collection at home but I have no plans to use those on anybody. And by the way, I don't hurt people, period. My dad has a friend who gets us rejected blood bags from the Red Cross--”
I had never told anyone that before. In fact, I'd never even said it out loud.
"But what about your kendo classes?"
Oh. Those.
"And the Iaido club?"
And that.
We used wooden sticks and real swords for those along with actual armor. Thorne also instructed those classes but I was the only one under eighteen in those classes. The rest were college kids. Thorne and my father had worked out some deal I still didn't know the details of to get me into the university club on weekends and supply me the equipment. Fencing was about focus but Kendo and Iaido--actually learning to "kill" with a sword--was actually about learning to hurt people. Or pretending to hurt them. It vented my aggression better than fencing did.
"I still don't hurt people there," I said. "We all wear armor. I can't do things like boxing, you know? I'd get found out."
“You know,” Xavier said, leaning against the table and looking all cool. “You're going to have to deal with this sooner or later. We both know you'll stop aging in just a few years and people are going to notice. You can't carry on like this forever.”
“Then we'll move,” I said. “We always do. I'm used to it. Dad already moves because of that. Throne can find me more classes in another state. He's got connections with all the instructors. Now I need to get back to practice.”
“But you'll get sick out there.”
“I need to talk to my dad, too,” I said. Why hadn't Dad told me about this? Xavier could be lying. He had some other plan, even though I couldn't think of what that could be. "I only fence to vent my stress."
"And sword fight," Xavier said. "You're a natural fighter. I've seen you and heard about you. You can get better--much better. It won't take that much."
"I can't. I have too much to do already."
“You must hate Abnormals,” Xavier said. “I know one did this to you, but trust me, we're not all like that.”
“Everyone thinks we are,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that he also knew my history. Maybe Dad was the one I should be angry at. He'd betrayed my trust. Dad had always told me we would keep this whole thing a secret from the outside world, that the Normals would never figure out what we were.
But Xavier wasn't a Normal.
“Don't listen to the crap you hear,” Xavier said. “None of us chose to be what we are. I didn't choose magic. They want us to feel bad so we'll turn ourselves in.”
"People say those like me chose to turn when they were bitten."
"That's crap."
I often wondered if I really had chosen to turn when I was two and just didn't remember it. Some scientists said different but a lot of people didn't believe that. I wasn't sure if I did because the gene hadn't been proven yet. It was a theory.
Xavier waited for my response. Outside, the whistle blew again but he didn't seem to notice. His wood smoke smell got stronger and my stomach rumbled. I was shaking and getting hungry. I had to get home soon and have a snack.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “Please. I have homework tonight and a test to study for.”
Xavier kept his cool. I couldn't tell what kind of expression he had behind those sunglasses. He reached into one of his trench coat pockets. “Take my card, at least. You'll never know when you'll need it.” He produced a cardboard rectangle and handed it to me.
I took it mostly to humor him. It was a plain white card, with his shining name sunk into the paper in shimmering letters. XAVIER LOVELLI. His name was beautiful and perfect in the gothic font. Underneath it, more shimmering letters read APPRENTICE MAGE for ABNORMALS UNDERGROUND. There was a picture of two flaming, crossed swords in the corner and as I stared, the fire seemed to dance. It was the coolest business card I had ever seen, but I kept my face stony, trying not to show my amazement. Things like this got people in trouble.
And the card was warm, like some life force was running through it.
“You don't know what you're missing,” Xavier said. “That ink, by the way, is made from a dragon scale and incubus blood mixture.” He paused there like I was supposed to know what he meant. "It's awesome binding magic in there."
“That's...cool, I guess.”
“Take it out if you're in trouble,” Xavier said. “Rub your thumb over the swords.”
“Okay,” I said. "Thanks." I'd take this card home and keep it but using it wasn't something I'd have to do any time soon.
I heard footsteps approaching the school, scraping grass and then concrete. Someone was coming. Practice had let out. I had to get back to Janine, get under the Migraine Blanket in her car and have her take me home. Then I had to figure out how to get to fencing practice tonight. Dad wasn't supposed to be home until nine or so and he usually drove me but he worked late shifts to avoid going out too soon on sunny days.
I went to leave the room, but Xavier brushed past me and the wood smoke smell got even stronger. He opened the door, oblivious to the fact that someone was coming, and made a left down the hall.
Before I could stop him, the double doors to outside squeaked open.
Chapter Two
“Roslyn, you're not going to hide this from me much longer,” Janine said as we rolled over a pothole. The old Buick bounced and squealed. “Who was that guy you were making out with? He just oozed hotness.”
The Migraine Blanket stayed over my head, blocking out most of the sun but not all of it. I groaned. She'd seen Xavier leaving the conference room and then me walking out, trying to act like sneaking into forbidden territory with a strange guy was average for me. I groaned under t
he blanket and stared at Hello Kitty's face for what felt like an eternity. The sun was trying to stab through every pore of my barrier and my head was playing a death metal concert inside. I felt like a blob in the passenger seat.
“In fact, he was leaving a hotness trail behind him as he ran away,” Janine said. “Didn't you see it on the floor in puddles? Oh, wait. You were bathing in it.”
Janine was the school gossip girl, the one who had to know who was dating who at all times. I wondered if she kept written records. Later in life she'd end up directing a soap opera if she was in a bad mood and a romantic comedy if in a good one. Janine was a really fun friend but it had been my bad luck that she'd been the first person through the doors when practice let out.
“You didn't even see his face,” I said.
“And judging from that dark room, neither did you,” Janine said. “I don't think he goes to our school. I don't remember anyone ever dressing like that."
“He doesn't,” I said. I had to come up with some cover story and fast. I couldn't just tell Janine that some strange guy had handed me a magical business card to Abnormals Underground and it wasn't just because I was afraid of being exposed. I wasn't out to get anyone exposed, including Xavier. If these people wanted their hidden club, that was cool. I knew what that was like. I just didn't want any part of it. The sooner I got home and found a place to tuck the card away, the sooner I could forget about it and get on with my life.
“Well, what school does he go to?” Janine asked.
I wanted to come up with some funny answer but that was impossible under the Migraine Blanket, suffering and wanting nothing more than to go to bed. Janine didn't know how lucky she was, being able to just sit in the sun and drive.
“Everly,” I blurted. The pain between my ears was getting worse. I had to get home. The warnings swirled through my mind. Dad was forced to go to some company picnic two years ago and the sun happened to come out that day. He barely avoided having a full seizure and getting the ambulance called on him. I wasn't sure how much longer I had. If I started trembling Janine would drive me to a hospital and then I'd get found out. “Please get me home. I'll tell you all the juicy details tomorrow. Please.”
She gave in. “Okay,” she said in a way that told me a barrage of texts were coming tonight. That was fine. This bought me time to make up a story. I was good at stories. I had to be.
Janine made a right turn down what had to be my street. I had memorized the route and the way the street dipped right before my house. She stopped. I could smell the lilacs even from inside the car. Yep. It was my house. Well, for the last few months.
Throwing the Migraine Blanket down over the seat, I got out and emerged into the stabbing light. The pain in my head went from a death metal concert to a rocket going off. I bolted for the house but I could feel Janine's eyes on me. She'd be wondering all night. Hopefully, it would be about the mystery guy and not about me.
My skin was on fire by time I got into the house and closed the door behind me. The house was empty as usual since Dad would be at work for the next several hours. He always worked late to avoid having to drive home in the sun.
I leaned against the closed door and let the cool relief of my dark house and its pulled curtains wash over me. The pain in my head settled, minute by minute. I listened to Janine drive away, slowly rolling to the corner and turning after waiting for two cars to pass on the other street. The sound of her motor vanished, squeaky belt included.
My stomach had calmed down a bit but stayed somewhat upset. It would take about a half hour for me to feel good enough to do anything again. I glanced at my arm. Burned. Pink. I knew I should have a meal since it would help me heal faster but I was still at the stage where I might throw up if I tried. The freezer hummed in the store room where we kept the blood bags. I might need two after this. Which was bad, since we were getting low.
Now that I was feeling better and able to peel myself from the door, anxiety washed over me. Every muscle tensed and I wanted to hit something.
Someone knew what Dad and I were--someone other than Mom and her Abnormal-hating side of the family. I hadn't felt this freaked out and unsafe in years even if it was another Abnormal that approached me. I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes. I remembered my parents' panic after the hospital told them Dad and I were turning even though I'd been two years old and only thinking about the painful, bandaged wound on my neck. I saw the inside of the car again, bathed in starlight that got brighter to me each night. That drive had been long, taking three nights to cross the country, but to me it had felt like an eternity. And after that, we moved, again and again, staying together until The Incident when I was eight. Then Mom left Dad for some Normal guy who had nice Normal children in sports and dance and everything that I couldn't give my all to.
I would not think about The Incident.
I checked my phone. It was fifteen after four. Fencing practice was at eight. It might be my last one for a bit since we'd have to move again already. I wished I had Kendo or Iaido instead. I needed to stab something. Really stab something. Part of me turning had brought an instinct to fight and hurt others, something Dad warned me that I needed to vent. So after the second grade, he enrolled me in fencing lessons. As I got older the urge got stronger and the Kendo had followed in the sixth grade, first with an instructor named Mariott up in Washington and then with another named Scott in early high school. Beating armored people up with wooden sticks helped for a while. Iaido was pretty recent. Thorne had introduced me a year ago, when Dad and I were living fifty miles north of here. He called me his best student.
I just hoped Dad kept us close enough for me to go to his classes after we moved. He'd been my favorite instructor so far. He didn't baby me.
The darkness of my room was inviting. My black curtains were drawn tight, holding out the deadly light. I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to make patterns out of every groove and bump. I really did have homework but I had all night to do it. I only had to sleep an hour or two each day, anyway. It was one perk I had.
I shifted my gaze to my katanas hanging on the wall. Thorne had gifted them to me and they were sharp--really sharp, not like the cheap ones you'd get from a catalog.
I was starting to wonder if there was more to Dad than going to work and coming home late every day. Dad had never told me about Abnormals Underground, yet Xavier knew everything about me that people weren't supposed to know. I wanted to text Dad and demand to know everything, but he was at the office and might even be in a meeting. There was always the off chance of someone else seeing my text on his phone.
The business card was warm in my pocket. I pulled it out again. I could see in color now that I was out of the dark. The ink was magenta, made from dragon scales and incubus blood. I'd never heard of such a thing. Teachers always said that dragons used to exist thousands of years ago, tormenting ancient civilizations and even taking the form of humans sometimes to sneak into city walls, but they were supposed to be gone now, hunted into extinction. Dad's grandfather, who moved here from China way back, used to tell him stories about them and said that they might even still be alive in remote parts of the country. Scientists had only dug up bones. And incubi--I hadn't heard much about them. Like other demons people didn't talk about them much.
For the first time, I got very, very curious and wished I could ask my great-grandfather about this, but Dad told me he had died right before I was born.
I shoved the card back into my pocket and stared at the ceiling again. I wasn't going to get suckered into something I couldn't back out of. The quicker I got Xavier and the thought of the Abnormal world out of my head, the better off I'd be. But at the same time, I couldn't ignore it.
I closed my eyes. A distant car screeched its tires as it struggled to stop in time at an intersection. It sounded like it was coming from two streets over, where Maple and Cross met. A squirrel darted up a tree outside, its little claws like tiny nails impaling wood. I w
as used to being able to hear everything within a certain radius. Every animal sneaking through the grass. Every time the neighbors had fun with each other late at night. I could tune it out if I wanted but right now, when I was still feeling kind of crappy, that was impossible.
That meant I heard every footstep of several people trying to be quiet as they crept up the steps of my back deck, inching closer and closer to the sliding door.
I swore and jumped out of bed. Every muscle tensed as I listened, hoping for the intruders to turn back and decide that breaking into this house was a very, very bad idea. I could smell them from here. A horrible cologne hit my nostrils. The others were clean and one of them smelled like the cheeseburgers they'd had for lunch. A couple of other faint smells joined in. Four people. Their footsteps crept nearer until at last one of them gently tried the sliding door, which of course did not move.
I eyed the katanas on the wall. I still felt kind of sick and weak.
Dad had told me a bunch of times that if burglars came and I was home alone, I was supposed to hide in a closet and dial 911 because that was what Normal people had to do unless they had guns. I wasn't supposed to fight them, but an itch crept into my arms and the katanas looked better and better. I had always wondered what it would be like to defend myself with my skills. A huge part of me wanted to try it. I hadn't vented my aggression yet this week. It was building. Even if these people had guns, I could take a lot of injury before I actually died--way more than a Normal girl. Of course, I'd never tested it.
The intruders tried the door again. I picked up four distinct smells now--Mr. Cologne, Cheeseburger, Ceasar Salad and even Chicken Nuggets.
The business card got warmer in my pocket as if begging me to use it. I ignored the sensation as a slight rattle--something even a Normal should be able to hear--followed from the back door. They weren't giving up.
And then, the scent of suits followed, new and cold.
Suits.
