by Laura Legend
In one smooth motion, Cass flipped back onto her feet. Time slowed even more. The guy didn’t even have time to react. Swinging the sword through a tight round, she screamed at the top of her lungs and then, with one decisive stroke, separated the man’s head from his body.
She squinted her eyes and turned away, expecting blood to jet everywhere. But, instead, the man just burst into a cloud of chalky ash. In this gale, what was left of him was gone before she could register what had happened.
Cass blinked, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.
“Huh,” Cass said to herself out loud. “I guess they really were vampires.”
As quickly as it had come, Cass felt all the heat and strength drain right out of her. It was like someone had pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub.
She dropped to her hands and knees in the middle of the street. She felt sick. The rain was still pouring.
The other two vampires had, in the meantime, disappeared entirely.
Cass felt her vision cloud and her weak eye lose focus.
But in that moment, just before her eye returned entirely to normal, something else happened: time stopped entirely. It was like she’d slid sideways, for just an instant, outside the normal flow of time. In that frozen moment, Cass had a vision of her mother. Or, rather, Cass had a vision in which she was her mother.
She saw, from her mother’s perspective, that bright summer morning when the two of them had sat on ten-year-old Cass’s bed and her mother had squeezed her hand and given her the pendant that she wore to this day. Her mother made her swear—literally, swear with an oath—to care for this pendant with her life. At the time, Cass had been enthralled by the necklace. But seeing this scene from her mom’s perspective, she could see what she’d taken for granted at the time. She could feel how much her mom loved and trusted her. She could feel the strength of her hand. She could feel how deep her hopes ran for her.
And then the vision ended.
Time started again.
And Cass was alone in the middle of the wet street, clutching her pendant in one hand, crying.
9
Cass started her car, turned on the windshield wipers, and cranked the heat all the way up. It would take a couple minutes, though, before any warmth actually materialized. The rain pounded on her roof. She couldn’t see more than a few yards down the street. Waiting for the heat, Cass revved her engine and sat shivering in her seat, teeth chattering, goosebumps pimpling her skin from head to toe.
She dried her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to get a grip on what had just happened.
Her life had just broken into two pieces—the before and the after. Everything that happened now would be “after.” Nothing would ever be the same. As much she already pined for the boring simplicity of the afternoon shift she’d spent guessing people’s astrological signs, there was no going back.
She could never go back.
She’d seen what those things were—call them vampires or whatever you want, they weren’t human—and, even more decisively, she’d felt what had happened to her.
A door deep inside of her heart—a door that had been there her entire life, but locked—was now unlocked. That door stood wide open and she could feel the far side of it calling to her, inviting her to step beyond what she had thought she was and into this other world. Into the world of magic.
Now that she could hear the call so clearly, she realized that she’d heard this voice whispering to her all her life. For a long time, she’d thought the whispers were just a fragment of her mother’s memory, an illusion generated by her own mourning. Even if that was partly true, it clearly wasn’t the whole story.
Whatever was happening to her, it was real.
But even if she could no longer ignore or dismiss the call, she still didn’t feel ready to cross that threshold. The door was open and unlocked—she couldn’t do anything about that—but she would decide if and when she stepped through it.
Warm air started to flow through the air vents. She adjusted them so that every vent in the car was pointing squarely at her and rubbed her hands in front of them.
Heat was the first order of business. But she also needed to talk to someone. She needed to not be alone with this.
She tried to wrestle her phone out of her wet jeans and pulled out Mr. Harvard’s business card instead. It was dry as a bone and didn’t have a single wrinkle.
What the hell is this thing made out of?
She pinged the card with a flick of her finger.
Is this paper-thin titanium? How rich is this guy?
She couldn’t worry about that now. She tossed the card onto the passenger seat and tried again for her phone. The phone’s screen was cracked and some moisture fogged the glass from the inside, but it worked when she turned it on.
She thought about calling her dad. But if she was going to repair that bridge, this didn’t seem like the place to start.
That really only left Zach. Being short on people skills and short on friends didn’t leave her with many options.
She pulled her legs up onto the driver’s seat, hugged her knees, double-checked that the heat was cranked all the way up, and dialed Zach.
He answered on the first ring.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay, Cass?”
How did Zach already know something was wrong? Was he sitting on his phone, waiting for me to call? Should I be flattered or worried?
“What …? How did you …?”
“Cass, we’re friends and I’m here for you. But I can count on one hand—hell, I don’t even have to use any hands—the number of times you’ve ever called me just to chat: zero. If you’re calling now, it must be important.”
“Yeah, I … I don’t really know where to begin. I … I was attacked—”
Zach cut her off. “Cass, are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
“I’m okay,” she said, fingering the bruised side of her face. “I’m okay. I took care of it.” She paused, then smiled wearily. “You should see the other guys.”
“Cass! What!”
“It’s not just this, though. Weird shit has been happening for the past twenty-four hours. Even weirder than normal. It started with this anonymous text yesterday asking about my dissertation, then that guy came into the coffeehouse today looking for me and asking about my research, and then these three sleazy dudes were waiting for me tonight at my car after I’d locked up the shop—”
“Wait, that guy from earlier today, the smug douche bag in the suit, he’s part of this? I’ll beat him to a pulp—”
“Hold on there cowboy,” Cass replied. “Simmer down. That guy is definitely part of this weirdness but these dudes from tonight don’t seem like his style. That guy in the suit would just buy me, not kidnap me.”
Cass tried to fill in more of the details for Zach, but the more she said and the weirder her story got, the more agitated he became.
“It’s not safe out there, Cass,” he argued. “It’s not safe for you to be alone right now. Come over to my place. I’ll make up the couch for you. I’ll watch out for you tonight.”
The offer was appealing, even if the idea of Zach hurting (or protecting) anyone seemed ridiculous. How much protecting did she need, anyway? She’d just killed a vampire herself, after all! Really, she should be smart and keep him out of harm’s way.
Once this thought occurred to her, she knew she couldn’t go over there, much as part of her wanted to. Zach didn’t deserve to be dragged into this.
“I can’t. I’m … I’m going to see my dad,” she lied. “But I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
Before Zach could say anything else, she hung up.
She popped the car into gear and took off. The rain was tapering off and it didn’t take long to get home. This time of night, parking wasn’t a problem and all the cars left out on her street looked like hers: dinged hand-me-downs from parents.
But tonight something on her street was painfully, obviously d
ifferent. A shiny black Model X Tesla was parked in front of the Thai restaurant. The neon blue of the store’s “noodles” sign reflected cleanly off the car’s sweeping glass roof.
Cass pulled quietly into a spot across the street and cut the engine.
She took a closer look. Nobody was waiting for her in the car. That was good.
But the outer door leading up to her apartment was open.
She was positive she’d locked it this morning.
10
Cass drove around the block and parked out of sight. She opened the car door, got out, and turned to go, but then thought better of leaving empty handed. She leaned back into the car, reached across the gearshift, and snagged her katana. For good measure, she also grabbed Richard York’s business card from the passenger seat and slid it back into her pocket. It still burned cooly against her thigh.
Focus, Jones, she told herself. Focus.
Sword in hand, she felt ridiculous creeping around the corner of her own building, trying to stick to the shadows. What was she, a ninja now?
She reached the door at the base of the stairs leading to her apartment. It was still ajar. She used her foot to swing it wide open. She decided to try being strong and decisive and jumped into the doorway with her sword raised. She saw something dark move on the stairs and a jolt of fear shot through her. She almost took a swing with her sword before she caught herself. She was so jumpy she’d almost cut the head off her own shadow.
Smooth move, ex-lax. If anyone needs help killing their own shadow, you’ll be ready. Anything worse than that, though, and you’ll both be in real trouble.
She shook her head, disgusted with herself, and started up the wooden stairs. She stayed close to the wall, sticking to the sides of the stairs to avoid making any unnecessary noise. Ten quiet steps later, she reached the landing outside her apartment door. Like the door downstairs, this door was also almost shut, but not quite. She could see that the latch hadn’t engaged.
Cass took a deep breath and tried to steel herself for whatever came next. She tried to feel around in her chest for some of that magic heat and focus that had kicked in earlier, saving her butt, but the only thing she found there now was her own heart knocking with fear against her rib cage.
On three, she told herself.
One.
Two.
Four!
She skipped right past three in order surprise both herself and whoever was on the other side of the door. She gave the door a solid kick that sent it banging open so hard it almost bounced closed again before she could get through it. She felt even more ridiculous when it rebounded a final time and hit her on the ass.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She stifled both.
Dear God in heaven, I don’t know if you’re listening, or if you even exist, but I could use some help here. Please? Amen.
The interior of the apartment was pitch black. The lights were off and the blinds were drawn.
“Hello, Cassandra,” a disembodied voice said quietly from the heart of the darkness.
Cass almost jumped but forced herself into a defensive posture instead, her sword extended in front of her. She closed her eyes and tried to feel her way out into the rest of the room, Jedi-style, with only her other senses. It was so dark she wasn’t going to see anything anyway.
It felt like there was just one person, a man, sitting near the far wall.
“Cassandra,” the voice intoned again.
Who the hell calls me Cassandra? she wondered. Not even my dad calls me Cassandra.
Then, before she had a chance to call on any other fledgling Jedi skills, the man flicked on the living room lamp.
Richard York was sitting on her old yellow couch. He smiled thinly when he saw her sword. Her cat, Atlantis, was sitting on his lap, purring.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I made myself at home. It seemed rude to wait outside when your cat invited me in. He was so friendly I just followed him right up the stairs and through your front door.”
She cocked her eyebrow at him.
“Does your cat have his own key?” he asked, half joking, scratching Atlantis behind the ears. He grinned, pleased with himself.
“Oh, and I found something else. These,” he said, “must be yours.”
With a touch of drama, he slowly pulled (her?) black bra out from between the couch cushions. He dangled the lace in the air with one hand, cocking his own eyebrow, and then opened his other hand, revealing thirty-seven cents.
Cass was not amused, even if she couldn’t avoid blushing.
“Nice trick, asshole,” Cass snapped without lowering her sword. “First, put the cat down. Now.”
Without waiting for Richard to make a move, Atlantis jumped down of his own accord. When the cat hit the floor, he stopped for a moment and looked straight at Cass. And winked. Then he disappeared behind the couch.
What the … Did my cat just wink at me?
“Second, who are you and why are you here?”
“I already tried to tell you earlier today,” Richard said. “I represent a powerful group of investors who are in need of your … unique … and impressive set of skills.”
He was still dangling the bra in the air between them.
He looked at the bra and then back at her, as if he were trying to decide whether it fit.
“Put that damn thing down, already” Cass barked, pointing with her sword.
Richard smiled and, with a hint of regret, dutifully complied, draping it over the arm of the couch.
“I already told you,” Cass continued, “I’m not interested in the Kool-Aid you’re selling. I can ruin my own life. I don’t need any expensive, outside help from you.”
“I believe you,” he said. “Though I suspect that, with a little help from me, you might be able to ruin your life in a much more interesting way. I’m offering you a chance to step off the sidelines and get in the game. I’m offering you the chance to put your life’s work to the test.”
He waited a beat, holding her gaze, looking right into her weak eye again.
“I’m offering you the chance to find out if you’re right. And, unless I’m completely mistaken, I don’t believe you’re capable of turning that offer down.”
Cass’s grip on her sword relaxed and she could feel her resolve cracking.
He was telling the truth. He was making a serious offer.
And he was telling the truth about her. This was what she wanted, deep down: the chance to prove that she was right. Not just to show her dissertation committee or colleagues that she was right but, especially, to prove something to her dad. To prove to her dad, once and for all, that she (and her mom) were right.
She lowered the sword to her side.
Seeing her relax, Richard sank back into the couch. Even if Cass had trouble reading people, it was obvious that Richard didn’t have any trouble reading her. He had her pegged.
“Excellent,” he said. “Excellent. And, while we have a moment, I think these might also be yours.” And with that, he pulled a tiny black thong out from between the couch cushions.
Whatever the story was with the bra, Cass was certain that these, at least, were not hers.
But before she could blush or get angry or feel that business card melt a hole through her pocket, the scene completely imploded as Zach burst through her apartment door, also taking a shot from the rebounding door, brandishing a large wooden cross and yelling “Get thee behind me, Satan!” or something along those lines.
He was in attack-mode, but stopped dead in his tracks when he, Richard, and Cass all simultaneously locked eyes on the panties still swinging gently from the end of Richard’s finger.
11
While everyone was distracted by the thong, Atlantis made a break for the door. The only one who noticed was Cass. One moment the cat was hidden behind the couch, the next an orange patch of fur streaked across the room and out the open door, and then—poof—Atlantis was lost again. Who knew when she’d see
him. The cat kept his own counsel.
Zach and Richard, though, kept their steely gazes glued to the thong, testing each other—neither seemed to want to be the first to look away and lose face.
“Grow up, boys,” Cass said as she snatched the panties from the end of Richard’s finger and stuffed them into her back pocket. “We’ve got real problems to worry about.”
With the spell broken, Zach stepped protectively between Cass and Richard, waving the cross in Richard’s direction while looking back over his shoulder to see if Cass was okay.
He commanded the room in a way Cass had never seen before. His normal slouch and laid-back attitude had evaporated. His shoulders were square and he seemed an inch or two taller. His biceps strained against the sleeves of his t-shirt.
Who the hell is this guy? Cass wondered. What happened to mild-mannered Zachary Riviera? Does Zach have a secret identity? Is he a crime-fighting vigilante by night? Wait, is Zach Batman!?
“You, stay right there,” Zach ordered, pointing the cross at Richard.
Richard just raised his hands in mock surrender and smiled, though Cass could have sworn he looked more uncomfortable then he was letting on.
“Cass, are you okay?” Zach asked, turning his attention back to her.
His searching look swept up from Cass’s feet and toward her face, cataloguing any signs of distress or injury. He looked mostly relieved until his eyes reached her face and he got a good look at the deep black bruise blooming across her cheek. An expression overtook him that she’d never seen before. He was so easy-going, that she didn’t know he could get angry. The fury took hold of him in an instant and made him almost unrecognizable.
Zach spun back toward Richard.
“I’ll kill you,” he whispered with an intensity that made his words seem more like an actual promise than an idle threat.
A look of real worry flashed across Richard’s face.
Zach moved fast to cross the distance between them. Richard was on his feet in one preternaturally smooth movement. But Cass was quickest of all. She wedged her sword into the wooden floor, grabbed Zach in a bear hug, and shouted, “Stop, Zach! Stop! It wasn’t him, it doesn’t have anything to do with him—”