Mortal Danger

THE DARK SIDE DOES NOT HAVE COOKIES

A week later, Davina and I stood in front of the list Miss Tina, the cheerleading coach, had just posted. Girls clustered around, making it impossible to see, so I pushed my way to the front as the crowd thinned. Occasionally, excited squees popped up but most of the hopefuls went trudged with their dreams crushed.

I ran my fingertip down the page. “There you are on the varsity list.”

“No way.” She bounced forward and then danced in a circle when she confirmed.

Unsurprisingly, I didn’t even make alternate, but since that wasn’t the point, I didn’t care. “Happy?”

“Yeah! Surprised, though. I honestly thought this crap was fixed.”

Maybe some slots, but Blackbriar cared about trophies, which meant they needed some athletic girls on the squad. Otherwise, they’d be screwed later in the year. She got out her phone, already dialing to tell her mom. This was happiest she’d been since Russ died.

I’d expected Kian to make up for lost time, but he was busy with classes—or so he claimed. Instead of spending time together, I got texts and Snapchats, like we were in a long-distance relationship.

That week I also got an e-mail from Jen.

Hope you’re happy. I’m in THAILAND. With my grandmother. My mom told her about what happened to Brittany and now I spend my mornings lighting candles in shrines and temples. I’m finishing the semester online, but Blackbriar is holding my spot. I’ll be back after winter break.

We miss you, I sent back. And I’m sorry if this was all in my head. If so, I’ll get help.

Her answer came the next day. I don’t think it was.

That was all she said, but it reassured me that she didn’t hate me for sending her into exile. Mr. Love still watched me and Nicole looked more and more like a ghost, but the rest of Blackbriar got back to normal. Every night, Davina had cheerleading practice and, like Ken, I joined drama, not because I wanted to act, but it might help with college applications. I also spent more time with my parents between working out with Mom and talking about the laser array they were working on. Their theories on time travel and alternate realities were kind of fascinating, especially when paired with actual hypotheses.

With his increased workload and me in extracurriculars, I saw Kian even less; he picked me up twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. Sometimes we went out on weekends, but he seemed … different. Since he’d showed me his apartment, there was a new distance between us. Though he’d told me he was unpacking his boxes, he hadn’t invited me over again to see how it turned out.

The resulting quiet felt more like the calm before the storm than a permanent peace. While I planned for college, studied, and spent time with my mom, I feared the silence would be shattered by a scream—or a disaster of such epic proportions that the enemy needed time to put all the pieces in play. Kian’s remoteness only reinforced that impression. He denied anything had changed and he said the right words, but sometimes I caught him looking at me with an ocean of grief shining from his eyes. His words came back to me in quiet moments:

I am afraid.

Of what?

Having you. Losing you.

But I couldn’t let sorrow or worry keep me from living. Otherwise all of this had been for nothing. So, even knowing things weren’t … right, I had to persevere. I’d never give up again.

A week after I took the SAT, I confronted him about it. “Kian, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, why?”

“You’re different.”

He just smiled and kissed me.

No matter what I said, he refused to open up. So I resigned myself to letting him tell me what was wrong in his own time. The distance hurt, even as it reassured me that I could trust him: I suspected he was shielding me from something bad … and I let him.

I wish I hadn’t.

It took about three weeks for my SAT results to arrive, and I grabbed the envelope from the mailbox before my parents saw it. Hiding in my room, I opened it alone, relieved to find my scores were high enough to get me into my school of choice, provided the rest of my application package lined up. I spent the next week scribbling my essay and then I sent the packets, grateful I could do most of it online. I used my mom’s Visa to pay the application fees, and then it was oddly anticlimactic. Replies should start in January; I finally felt like maybe I had made up for lying to my parents for all those months.

Apart from the tension between Kian and me, things were looking up. I still felt terrible about what happened to Brittany and Russ, but the tinnitus I had noticed around him made me question whether it was my fault. And if his death wasn’t related to me, maybe her illness wasn’t either. I want so much for that to be true. Some days, I could almost convince myself that was the case, and it let me carry on. But wishful thinking didn’t explain Mr. Love at all, so I couldn’t entirely accept the coincidence theory. Deep down, I was waiting for the third calamity, like Davina’s grandma predicted.

The day before Halloween, I noticed that the bizarre events had slowed way down. They didn’t stop entirely, or I would’ve caught on faster; sometimes I glimpsed the thin man on the subway platform, but he didn’t approach me. Belatedly, Kian’s words echoed in my head: you don’t know the deals I’ve made—to keep me safe or stop the attacks? I was afraid to ask if he’d contacted somebody at Dwyer & Fell. God only knew what Wedderburn would do if he suspected Kian was a traitor. But maybe I had already gone off course, so the opposition had no reason to stalk me anymore. If so, I wouldn’t find out until graduation when Wedderburn informed me that I’d become a waste of time, and I could earn my keep by offering deals to people in extremis.

Sadly, that might be the best-case scenario.

With that possibility whirling in my head, I was glad when Davina distracted me by bounding up to my locker wearing a smile. I still caught a melancholy look now and then, but since the rumors were now centered on Nicole Johnson instead of Russ and Brittany, it was easier for her to pretend not to be heartbroken. I thought it best to go along.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Party at Cameron’s tomorrow. His parents are never around, but this has their stamp of approval, so it’s high end, big budget scary. I wasn’t even sure he’d do it this year.”

“No invites, not even online or whatever?” Since I had attended zero parties in my life, I was well aware that I might sound stupid.

Davina shook her head. “Pretty much everyone knows about it. If you know how to get to the house, you don’t get kicked out on Halloween.”

“Costumes?”

“Definitely. You’ll go, right?”

“Why not?” I could work out with my mom on Saturday afternoon, talk physics with my dad … and miss date night with Kian.

I don’t even know if he’ll mind. My heart ached.

“Sweet. My mom can drive us, if you want. I guarantee she won’t let me have the car, and she’ll want to make sure I’m going where I claim I am.”

“The party won’t be loud enough to make her change her mind?”

“Not if we get there early enough. I’ll pick you up at half past six.”

“Sounds good.”

After school, Kian picked me up at the normal time, but he was even more preoccupied than usual. I seized on that as an excuse not to say anything until he parked outside my apartment. I’d never broken a date with him before, so I had no idea how it would go. If he acted like he didn’t care, that’d be worse than hurting him. Well, for me.

“We still on for tomorrow night?” he asked.

At this point, we were regulars at the classic movie place in Harvard Square. A pang went through me as I shook my head. “Actually I’m going to a party with Davina.”

Maybe I should invite him? We did have plans first.

Before I spoke, he smiled. “I have a term paper due anyway.”

“For what class?”

“Magic, Science, and Religion.” The easy answer made me think that he was lying, but it wasn’t like I could demand proof. “Don’t worry about it. We can go out next weekend.”

“As long as you don’t mind,” I said.

“It’s fine,” he answered, smiling. “I want you to have friends. To have a life.”

That sounded so much like, good luck with everything, Edie. It felt like he was opening his hands, letting go of me. But I’d know if we were breaking up. Wouldn’t I? Somehow I smiled and nodded, kissed him and climbed out of the car. My chest was tight, but I had no explanation for it.

Upstairs, my dad was working in the living room. He mumbled something as I went by, but he was deep in concentration and just lifted a hand that said, I’m aware that you live here. In my room, I tried not to think about Kian; instead I poked through my stuff, trying to decide what would work as a quick DIY costume. Briefly, I considered Ophelia, but that was too macabre, even for me, since I’d have been a dead girl floating in the river for real, if not for Kian. Plus, I didn’t have any white flowing gowns.

“Dad!” I yelled.

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow one of your old lab coats?”

“Anything you find in my closet, you can have, if you don’t bother me for an hour.” Dad sounded vaguely impatient.

He and Mom had agreed they needed to be home more, or I might repeat my trip to New Hampshire. I didn’t mind the attention, but it made my dad cranky, especially when it was his turn to play warden. However, since I’d been letting myself in for five years, it made for a nice change to have someone in the house when I got home from school.

“Anything, huh?”

From various boxes, I dug out a white lab coat, left from my dad’s grad student days. He worked out when he remembered but even so, he wasn’t nearly as thin as he had been then; my mom called it science-geek svelte. That went into my pile of costume components, along with protective goggles and a plaid bow tie. I had some black pants and if I added those to this stuff, plus my school shirt, I could mess up my hair and go as a mad scientist. It wasn’t sexy or even cute, but it suited my personality more than devil’s horns and a red leotard. All things considered, that also seemed a little on the nose.

Three hours later, a Skype request popped up from Ryu. I checked the time—early in Japan, so it was probably before school on his end. I accepted, smiling when he appeared on my laptop. His room was messy in the background, but his expression demanded my attention; he looked serious, nervous, even.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tell your friend to be careful. She’s mixed up in some scary shit.”

“Huh?” Oh, right. I told him the picture I sent was a friend’s tattoo. Worry surged through me, mingling with anger that I had been rattled enough by the mirror girl to ask him about the mark.

Fortunately, he took that as a request for clarification. “It took me this long, but I was curious, so I didn’t stop digging.”

“Dammit, Ryu. I told you not to bother.” Now you might be on their radar if you weren’t already.

He made a rude gesture at his screen. “You’re welcome. Anyway, do you want to hear what I found or not?”

“I guess.”

“Good. I don’t have much time before I have to catch my train. It’s not a kanji per se, but a gang symbol, and it seems to be favored by men with ties to the Yakuza.”

That tracked with what I knew about the immortals and their game. They chose individuals with great destinies, and from what I understood of the strategies, the Yakuza often made connections with powerful people in order to smooth the path for their operations. But I couldn’t tell Ryu that. Best to pretend I didn’t know anything about it.

“Wow, really? I wonder if she knew that when she picked it out?”

“Probably not. These things end up listed wrong, so some hipster wants the Chinese symbol for peace, and he gets the one for soup. Then Chinese people laugh at him.”

Despite growing unease, I snickered. “That would be my luck.”

“If you decide to get some ink, do your own research.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“One last thing,” he said, as I reached to click off the call.

“What’s that?”

“The mark has a fairly sinister meaning. The guy I talked to down in the market said it literally reads as ‘Property of the Game,’ and if I ever meet anyone who’s marked with it, I should run like hell. Edie, is your friend in trouble?”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Maybe.”

“Well, try not to get pulled into her drama.” A woman called to him, likely his mom, and he yelled a reply. Then he leaned forward. “Talk to you later.”

My screen went blank.

I stared at my left wrist, assessing the statement of ownership. Kian had warned me the marks couldn’t be removed, and the infinity symbol hurt when I left Boston with Davina. Therefore, whatever I was supposed to do, it happened here. So if I try to move—or go to school elsewhere, will it burn that bad, trying to keep me on track? Obviously that must be a built-in guidance system, courtesy of Wedderburn.

With a muttered curse, I took a shower as if I could wash away my problems. That night, I chatted with Vi, and then I slept in on Saturday, nearly until noon. My mom woke me up to head to the gym. It was cool seeing how people reacted to her new look. Mom was rocking an asymmetrical bob and she’d started using both bronzer and lipstick in the mornings. A couple of professors totally checked her out as we rolled into the fitness center.

“Mr. Goatee has a thing for you,” I said.

“Edith.” She spoke in a chiding tone, but a smirk curved her mouth as she glanced over at the balding, forty-ish guy working on the elliptical across the way.

“Hey, I didn’t say you were interested in him.”

“These past weeks have been really fun,” she said.

“Agreed. I’m glad you took the first step.” There had been a lot more hugs in the past three weeks than in my whole life combined; I was looking forward to a bunch more.

“Me too.”

After we sweated and showered, we took the T east. Fifteen minutes of walking and we splurged on lobster rolls and clam chowder, well worth the trip to James Hook & Co. The trailer made the setup look sketchy, but it was a pretty day, sunny enough to make it hard for me believe some of the shit that had happened recently. Outdoor tables turned the meal into a bistro experience, and it was awesome watching people go by, even if the ambiance was a little … industrial. The Old Northern Avenue Bridge reinforced that impression.

Mom raised her drink. “It feels like we should celebrate. To new beginnings.”

I smiled and tapped my soda can against hers, then dug into the delicious food. Halfway through my roll, I decided it was well worth fifteen bucks or whatever she paid. We took a walk before heading home in time for me to get ready for the party. Since my costume was simple, that was easy.

When I came into the living room, my dad made me pose for a picture. Both he and my mom laughed at my take on the mad scientist since my hair was more punk rock than eccentric genius. Still, it was better than showing up in my uniform and saying I was a schoolgirl. Davina arrived five minutes late and her mom came up with her, which delayed our departure another ten minutes.

“I’m Mrs. Knightly.” She shook hands with my parents. She was a pretty African-American woman in her forties, well-dressed in a suit that said she hadn’t changed out of work clothes yet.

They made small talk for a few minutes, and finally, Davina lost her patience, dragging her mother toward the door. Mrs. Knightly lectured us on the way to Cameron’s house about the importance of making good choices.

“I won’t pretend I don’t know there’s going to be alcohol there, just don’t come out so drunk that you puke in my car. Also? Don’t leave your friend’s place, and don’t drink anything you didn’t pour yourself.”

“Got it,” Davina said.

The drive took forty-five minutes, and the sky darkened as we crossed the city. Now and then, I caught sight of kids with their parents going door to door. This one night of the year, adults got away with marching around in vampire regalia. They’re probably on their way to costume parties, too. Bizarre, this was the one night of the year when the monsters could mix freely with humans and not draw a second look. Inexplicably, I shivered.

In the posh suburbs, Mrs. Knightly parked in front of a house fronted by a stone wall and a looming gate. “What time is curfew?” She sounded like this was a trick question.

“Midnight,” Davina replied.

Her tone softened. “You two try to have fun, okay? I know it’s been a tough year, but you have to put it behind you.”

Easier said than done.

For Davina’s sake, I’d try not to spoil the night. She was dressed as a leprechaun in a short green skirt, ankle boots, black tights, leotard, glittery makeup, and a tiny green bowler. Before I could say she looked good, she dragged me out of the car with a promise to be waiting here at precisely twelve.

The drive was asphalt, leading up to a classic new-money house, all modern convenience and no elegance, less charm. “Wow. That’s … big.”

“Right? I think I hear music. Come on.” Davina led me around back, where there were lights strung up. The patio doors stood open and the interior flashed with black lights, casting weird, zombie-ish shadows over all the faces. Right now, the crowd was light, but we’d arrived early on purpose.

“Where’s the booze?” she asked a random guy in a hockey mask.

The mass murderer pointed at a tin tub full of some murky mixture that looked too much like real blood for my comfort. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “It’s vodka and Kool-Aid, relax.”

There was no way I was drinking that, but I took a cup so Davina wouldn’t think I was a pain in the ass with a mental age of forty. “Is that a DJ over there?”

“Yep. No expense spared. Later, monsters will jump out at us and everyone runs around screaming. The party doesn’t end until somebody calls the cops.”

“But is there cake?” I was trying to be funny with the whole cake-is-a-lie meme.

“That’s only propaganda. The dark side does not have cookies. Come on, let’s rock.”