by David Klass
Anger comes to my rescue. I free my arms and push her away hard enough to make her stumble back. My own voice booms through the council chamber. “I’LL TELL YOU WHY I DID IT. Because you and my father were still controlling my life, ruining my life, even though you sent me away. No, that’s too kind a word. Abandoned me. Lied to me.”
“I never lied to you—” she objects.
“Even worse, you found two people who would tell me the lies you concocted. Everything I tried to do, everything I was proud of or thought was my own—the friends I had, the girl I loved, the life I built for myself—got torn to shreds by your lies. And it keeps happening. The Dark Army chases me, they kill and kidnap people I love, they haunt me. And you’re just as bad. You think nothing of sending your operatives to pretend to own a flower shop, spray me with nerve gas, and teleport me a thousand years into the future so I can do your bidding. Well, Mom, I guess I was just tired of being lied to and controlled. Call it teenage rebellion. You’re damn right I threw it away. Take some responsibility.”
We’re facing each other, breathing hard. I guess some of what I said must have gotten through. She nods and says softly, “All right, Jair. But even so, the Blue Star of Dann!”
“I didn’t know what it was,” I point out in a slightly softer voice. “My guardians never told me. Maybe they were going to when I got older, but when the Dark Army showed up things happened in a hurry. And there was no explanation in the box where I found it. Gisco and Eko saw me use it and never told me what it was.”
“Of course they didn’t. To name the Star of Dann or discuss it openly was to expose the secret to the Dark Army.”
“Well, I didn’t know what it was. How could I know?”
My mother looks back at me. Seconds tick away. “You knew it was from your father,” she finally replies. “The only thing you had from him. That should have been enough.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Anyway, it’s gone. We have four days to save Dad. What’s Plan B?”
She lowers her head. “There is no Plan B. The Blue Star of Dann was our only hope. All is lost.”
PART TWO
21
The car carrying the four Barnard girls turned off the road toward the Sound in the late afternoon.
They stopped at a black iron gate and spoke their names into an intercom. The gate swung open and they drove down a winding driveway with trees on either side. They rounded a bend, the trees gave way to a lush lawn, and the house rose in front of them in all its glory.
P.J. and her three friends gaped at its height and sprawl, its swimming pool and tennis court. Two servants were busy setting up a gazebo on the perfect grass of the football-field-size backyard that sloped down like an emerald carpet to the strip of private beach at the water’s edge. Daphne, the drama major, let out a whistle. “I heard Scott was loaded, but check this out!”
They pulled to a stop on a circular driveway. P.J. stepped out onto the gravel, and as if on cue the band began to play. Electric guitar music competed with the sound of the nearby surf.
The purple light of the sinking sun glittered off brightly colored streamers hung from willow trees. Ghoul and goblin masks had been attached to a fence and their gaping eyes seemed to wink and move in the fading light.
Fifteen minutes later the girls were in their costumes, sipping daiquiris dispensed at a bar on the back porch. They knew some of the other guests, and made polite chitchat as the first brave couples started to dance.
Their host came strolling across the grass dressed as a vampire, with a black cape, a red trident, and gleaming plastic fangs. He used his trident to jab a friend in the back and to salute a pretty girl, and it was possible to recognize the stick technique of an All-Ivy lacrosse player.
“Hi, girls,” he said to the four witches. “Halloween came early this year. Thanks for driving out to my humble home away from home.”
“Scott, your humble home away from home is like Xanadu squared,” Daphne said with a more-than-friendly smile. “You’ve blown your cover.”
“Yeah, it kind of makes it hard to share a teeny dorm room, especially with a roommate who doesn’t bathe,” he agreed with a laugh.
“I’ll tell Zack you said that,” Daphne threatened, “unless you dance with me later.”
“Zack already knows he stinks,” the handsome vampire responded, ignoring the flirtation, and then his focus narrowed to one of the witches.
“Hi, P.J. Looks like you’re ready for another drink. You’ve got to try the Long Island Iced Teas. I think they were invented a mile from here.”
The other three girls exchanged glances and soon drifted away, leaving the vampire alone with the prettiest witch in the coven.
P.J. turned down the drink, but she couldn’t resist an invitation for a private tour. He led her away from the party, across the sloping lawn to the sand. The footing on the dune was treacherous, and he put his hand gently on her back to guide her down to the water’s edge. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “I threw this party just to get you here.”
She rewarded him with a smile. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”
“It’s true,” he told her. “I didn’t think you’d come. You haven’t been returning phone calls.”
“Sorry,” P.J. said. “I’ve been very worried about someone.”
“Your high school boyfriend?”
She nodded. “He’s . . . disappeared. Without a forwarding address.”
“His loss is my gain,” Scott observed. And then, sensing that she was profoundly worried, he quickly became more sympathetic. “Can’t you check with his parents?”
“He doesn’t have parents.”
“You mean he’s an orphan?”
“His mom and dad died in an accident a year ago. He’s all alone.”
“Wow, that’s really messed up,” Scott said. “But I bet there’s some simple explanation. I only met him once, but he struck me as someone who could take care of himself. He probably just got the wanderlust and took off for a while. Anyway, you’re gonna worry yourself sick. Take a night off. Okay?”
“I’ll try,” P.J. promised, looking into his compelling dark eyes. “Those fangs aren’t real, are they? You look ready to bite me.”
“I might later,” he told her softly. “You look good enough to eat. But first I want to dance with you. And I have to warn you, I’m not a very good dancer. So I think we both need to stop by the bar and sample those special Long Island Iced Teas.”
22
The two of them stood on the porch looking out at the party as the bartender mixed their drinks. Dozens of costumed college students stood on the lawn, mingling and sipping drinks and dancing to the pounding music. “Does anthropology help you to understand our need for ridiculous parties like this?” Scott asked.
P.J. turned to look at him. “How did you know I was taking anthropology?”
“You told me at that Greek restaurant.”
“I swear I never did. You must be stalking me.”
“You just don’t remember telling me because you were flirting with so many boys that night.”
“My boyfriend was there, so I seriously doubt I was flirting with anybody,” P.J. said.
“Well, he’s not here, so tonight you can flirt with me.” Scott took her hand and turned her palm up. “Did you know that vampires can read fortunes? Let’s see. You will meet a handsome lacrosse player. He will be a lousy dancer but a good kisser. And he’s batty about you.”
P.J. smiled and gently pulled her hand away. “I have to tell you the truth. I’m flattered and I like you. But I don’t think I’ll be kissing anybody tonight.”
“I appreciate your honesty, and I won’t put any of my lame moves on you,” Scott promised. “They probably wouldn’t work anyway. It’s just nice to have you here. Looks like our drinks are ready.”
The bartender passed them their iced teas. As P.J. stepped away with her drink, the bartender gave Scott a tiny nod. In return, a rolled up twenty-dollar bill wa
s deposited with a deft flick of the vampire’s long fingers into the bartender’s tip jar.
P.J. sipped the cool drink as they walked out onto the lawn. Scott recaptured her hand, and used it to guide her toward the band. A stunning blonde in a short skirt slipped up on Scott’s other side, bumped him, and smiled at him beneath her pixie paint and glitter. She had a killer body and not much clothing to hide it, and Scott gave her a long look. But then he turned his attention back to P.J. and said, “Okay, witch girl. Want to make a little magic with the prince of darkness on the dance floor?”
“Your lines are truly hokey,” she told him, as they left their drinks on a picnic table and waded into the sea of gyrating bodies. Then they were dancing, moving together to the pounding beat in the perfect autumn night.
His hand stroked her hair. “Let it go,” he advised.
“What?”
“Enjoy yourself for one night. You’re allowed.”
“Sorry. I’m trying. It’s just so unlike Jack to disappear. If he was going on a trip he would have told me. I could call the police but I have no evidence that anything is wrong, and—”
“And I said let it go,” Scott reminded her, and then glanced past her.
The pixie had reappeared and was dancing near them, doing a sultry solo while looking straight at Scott. “Looks like you have a fan,” P.J. whispered. “You can dance with her if you want.”
“Why would I?” he asked. “I’m dancing with the person I want to be with. Come a little closer, P.J.”
The band began a slow song, and for a while they danced at arm’s length. Then Scott gently pulled her in, and his cape billowed around them. P.J. tucked her head against his chest, and his head lowered to her neck. He nipped her playfully with his fangs. “Hey,” she said, looking up into his gleaming black eyes, “no biting.”
“Then be sweet to me,” he whispered. He kissed her on the lips so quickly and smoothly that it took her by surprise. P.J. was surprised to find herself kissing him back, and they swayed together, his hands setting a rhythm for their bodies, their tongues touching.
She broke away before the song ended. “That’s enough. I feel a little woozy.”
“Yeah, for an autumn night it’s hot here on the dance floor,” he agreed. “Let’s get our drinks.”
He led her back to the picnic table and handed her her drink. “Here’s to letting go for one evening. Cheers.”
She took another sip. “I feel a little light-headed.”
“Sit down,” he advised her, pulling her toward a bench. But before he could sit next to her the blond pixie danced over and captured him with a pink lasso.
“Excuse me,” she said to P.J., “can I borrow your vampire?” Without waiting for an answer, she tugged the protesting lacrosse player out onto the dance floor.
Daphne sat down next to P.J. “Having fun?”
“Yeah. And feeling a little guilty,” P.J. confessed.
“You’re hopeless. High school boyfriends are great when you’re in high school. There comes a time to move on. And Scott is hot. Not to mention rich. Go for it, girl.” She looked at P.J. more closely. “Are you okay?”
P.J. blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m just tired.”
“Well, wake up, ‘cause here comes Dracula. Three’s a crowd so I’m out of here.”
Scott had extricated himself from the lasso and came hurrying back. “Sorry about that. I don’t even recognize that chick but she sure seems to know me. This is a great song. Want to go back out? I promise no more biting.”
“To be honest, I’m not feeling so well,” P.J. told him.
“Sick?”
“I don’t know. A little dizzy.”
“Come,” he said. “I’ll take you to a place where you can lie down and rest.”
23
It was much quieter inside the house. The pulsing music sounded distant as Scott led her through the ground floor, past servants and bartenders. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and all was silent.
The bedroom he led her to was at the end of a hallway and faced the ocean. P.J. tripped, and he caught her.
“Sorry,” she gasped. “My head is spinning. I hate to take you away from your own party.”
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching back to lock the door behind them. “Lie down. Close your eyes.”
P.J. lay on the bed and shut her eyes. She felt him sit down next to her and prop a pillow under her head. “Let’s unbutton this a little so that you can breathe,” he suggested, and his hands moved over her blouse.
She tried to roll away, but she was dizzy and he sounded genuinely concerned. “Relax, I just want to put you to bed. You don’t need this skirt, either.”
She felt him stand up off the bed and thought he was going back down to the party. “Thanks,” she murmured.
She heard a clink as his belt buckle hit the floor, and forced her eyes open. He had taken off his clothes. “I’m just going to lie next to you,” he whispered.
“No,” she said, and tried to get up.
Suddenly he was on the bed with her, his hands moving over her body. “We could be so good together. You must know I’m crazy about you.”
“NO!” she shouted. “HELP!” Or at least she tried to shout. But the room was whirling and her tongue felt swollen.
He pinned her down with the weight of his body. “Stop fighting. Just let it happen.”
“NO,” she said again, and tried to scratch him, but he was too strong for her. She thought of Jack and made one last effort to kick free, but she only succeeded in knocking him backward.
“Bitch. You’ve been teasing me since we met,” he growled, and slapped her. “Now it’s my turn.” He started to climb on top, and that was when the door burst inward.
A shadowy figure darted into the room, grabbed Scott by the arm, and pulled him off P.J. with so much force that he spun hard into a wall.
P.J. blinked. She was half-conscious, fading in and out. She saw Scott get back to his feet and say, “What the hell?” and raise his fists. He stepped toward the person who had come to save her.
P.J. turned her head toward the door and saw that it was the blond pixie. She was at least a foot shorter than Scott, but she didn’t back up as he advanced. Instead, she launched herself into the air and executed a snapping kick with her right leg. Her foot smacked into Scott’s chin and knocked him across the room.
He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
The pixie hurried over to P.J. and stood for a second, looking down at her. “Look at you,” she whispered and there was anger in her voice.
“Thank you,” P.J. managed to whisper.
“Don’t thank me. We’ve got to get out of here fast. Can you walk?”
P.J. tried to shake her head, but she couldn’t even manage that. She felt herself starting to black out. The last thing she remembered was being hoisted up onto the pixie’s shoulder, as a voice that sounded somehow familiar muttered, “Jack deserves so much better.”
24
The small Long Island airport was closed for the night. A gray van pulled up outside the chain-link fence and flashed what appeared to be extremely bright high beams. A section of the metal fence glowed red and then melted away into the dust.
The van drove between the dark hangars till it reached the last one, and then the van’s door opened and a shadow flitted out and entered the low-slung building.
A few minutes later, a small single-engine Cessna taxied out with its lights off.
P.J. blinked back to momentary consciousness as she was lifted out of the van. She turned her head and saw glitter on the cheeks of the person carrying her, and recognized the pixie. “Who are you? Where are you taking me?” she gasped. “NO! STOP! I DON’T WANT TO GO!” She began to struggle and kick.
The pixie’s hands moved on P.J.’s neck, feeling for a pressure point, and then two fingers dug down. P.J. immediately stopped kicking and was carried the rest of the way to the waiting plane and quickly strapped into a se
at.
The takeoff was accomplished in darkness, from a moonlit landing strip into a cloud-cloaked midnight sky.
The pixie flew the small plane out over the Atlantic and headed south. When it was far from land, she stroked a small yellow sphere mounted over the controls. A yellow flame flickered from the sphere, and she leaned forward, as if communing with it.
P.J. woke a second time as the yellow nimbus played over the cabin’s walls. She felt a bit more clearheaded, but at the same time she knew she must be hallucinating.
As P.J. watched, the blond pixie seemed to stretch and change color and shape. Blond hair turned dark. Short legs grew longer. White skin darkened to olive, and Caucasian features altered to Eurasian. The pixie’s girlish body filled out in sexy curves.
P.J. studied the beautiful woman in the pilot’s seat and whispered, “I’ve seen you before. You’re Eko.”
“Be silent,” came the curt reply. The woman’s attention was focused on the aircraft controls.
The single-engine Cessna had been plowing into a stiff head-wind at just over one hundred miles per hour. The yellow glow played over the inside of the narrow cabin, and then seemed to radiate through the walls and glint off the aluminum exterior as the old two-seater transformed.
The riveted aluminum sprouted a layer of soft skin that blistered into hundreds of discrete panels, angled in different directions to break up radar. The strut-braced wings retracted into a batwing shape. The single piston engine went silent and stopped emitting heat, but even as it seemed to be shutting down its thrust increased exponentially.
P.J. watched the dials as the plane sped up to two, then three, then four hundred miles per hour. P.J. and Eko climbed higher into the night sky. Their ride had been choppy, but now it became as smooth and silent as an eagle gliding majestically over the shadowy earth far below.