by Sarah Fine
A sound of pain and rage came from Malachi as the pen was ripped from his flesh again, and he began to rise from the table. Blood was streaming down the back of his shirt, droplets splattering onto the floor. And as I got close, I smelled it: incense.
Malachi didn’t get a chance to strike at his attacker. Because I was already there. I leaped onto the table where Malachi had been sitting and blocked the next stab of the pen with the tray. Evan’s eyes popped with surprise as his blow was deflected. Before he had a chance to recover, I drew the tray back and swung it down with all the force of my fury, hitting him in the throat with the edge of it. He stumbled back, coughing, as I caught a handful of his greasy hair and slammed his face into the painted cinder-block wall.
He crumpled to the floor, blood gushing from his nose, eyelids fluttering. But then he raised his head and looked right at Malachi, who was leaning against the wall with his hand pressed to his neck, blood seeping between his fingers.
“You can’t protect her, Captain,” the Mazikin inside Evan said quietly, mocking. “She has to protect you.”
I cut off Malachi as he took a step forward, and the Mazikin’s eyes glinted as his gaze slid to me. “You’d better call Sil, Lela,” he whispered, grinning with bloody teeth. “Or what happens next is your fault.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I STOOD IN FRONT of the full-length mirror. “This is not going to work.”
Tegan appeared at my shoulder, looking like a pixie. Her frilly red tutu-like skirt scraped against the back of my hand as she looked me up and down. “What’s wrong? You look beautiful.”
I snorted. “I can’t move.” I shifted uncomfortably. The strapless pink-satin straitjacket she’d stuffed me into clung to every inch of my torso and legs, all the way down to my knees. “I don’t think I can sit down.” And I didn’t think I could run or fight, which was most important. Judging by what the Evan-Mazikin had said before he’d been carted away by the police, none of us could afford a night off, and unless I gave myself up, the Mazikin had every intention of attacking my classmates every chance they got. Prom seemed like the ideal target for them, so here I was, shopping with Tegan, when all I wanted to do was drive to the Guard house and check on my Lieutenant. Raphael had shown up at school, playing the role of Malachi’s host father and promising to take him straight to the emergency room, so I knew he was okay. Physically, at least. But when I thought about how he’d looked this morning, how miserable and hopeless …
Tegan sighed. “I’ll get you something else.” She’d been amazingly patient with me. This dress was like the eighteenth one I’d tried on.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
She nudged me with her hip. “Why? This was my idea. I just wish you were having more fun with it. Aren’t you excited? You didn’t go to prom last year. And this year you’re going with Ian freaking Moseley. He’s probably going to be elected prom king, for God’s sake.”
I reached for the zipper on my dress as I shuffled back to the changing room. “You’re making me feel sorry for Ian, that he’s going with me.”
Tegan scoffed. “Oh my God, Lela, you are so blind. You should have seen him at lunch. He’s so excited to go with you—and so nervous that you’re going to change your mind—that I think he ate about four trays of food in less than twenty minutes as he told us about how you’d said yes. It was bizarre.”
“He eats when he’s nervous,” I said quietly. I’d skipped lunch because I couldn’t get my mind off Malachi and hadn’t wanted to face Ian like that.
Tegan raised an eyebrow at me. “And since you started noticing that he exists, he’s probably eating ten thousand calories a day. Good thing he works out.”
“He doesn’t have to be nervous around me. I’m not going to hurt him or anything.” Actually, I was starting to feel really protective of him. If the Mazikin got him, I’d never forgive myself.
She turned her back on me to root through another rack of sequins and satin. “Yeah? We all saw the way you reacted to Malachi’s stabbing this morning.”
I hid myself in the changing stall. “Malachi was hurt, Teg. I had to help him. If Ian was hurt, I’d want to help him, too.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice dripping with skepticism. “I’m going to hand you a few more possibilities, all right? We’re going to go short. Your legs are totally ripped, and you seem to harbor some kind of grudge against the longer dresses.”
The long dresses seemed destined to trip me up and get tangled at the wrong moment. They made me feel clumsy and slow. I looked down at my legs. I never wore short skirts, or any type of skirt. I wasn’t keen on the idea of people looking at me, and so my clothes tended to be an afterthought. Which made this whole prom dress thing feel really weird. It felt like I was trying to wear some kind of disguise.
Tegan flopped a wine-red dress over the top of the door. “This is the one. Get that on, and get out here.”
I tugged the dress down and examined it. Unlike so many of the others, this one didn’t have a plunging neckline. It was a halter-style neck, with thin silvery straps that circled around and crisscrossed in the back. Feeling hopeful for the first time this afternoon, I pulled it on, carefully untangling my crazy hair as it got caught on the zipper. The front of the dress mostly covered the starburst scar from Henry’s crossbow bolt. Once I had myself decent, I walked into the mirrored vestibule where Tegan was waiting, wearing a cap-sleeved, skintight black dress that made her hip bones look scary sharp. When she saw me, her eyes lit up. “I knew it!” She clapped a few times.
I stared into the mirror. The waistline was high and tight, just below my breasts, and the skirt was flowing and loose over my hips and legs, ending at midthigh. I turned in place. It was actually comfortable. The color looked good against my light-brown skin and eyes, too. I … kind of looked pretty. And I could run in it. “This is the one.”
Tegan’s grin was huge as she skipped over to me. With both hands, she gathered the curly mass of my hair, twisted it, and piled it on top of my head. “I’ll do your hair and nails. You’re going to look incredible. Ian won’t know what hit him.” Her expression changed, uncertainty clouding her eyes. “I’m kind of feeling sorry for both Ian and Laney. Because when Malachi sees you in this—”
My eyes met hers in the mirror. “What?”
She bit her lip. “Malachi is going with Laney to prom. They’re riding with all of us in that stretch SUV Greg rented.”
I squirmed to pull my hair away from Tegan’s hands. It fell over my shoulders and down my back, and I leaned forward so that it hid my face from her. “I knew she’d asked him.” But I had selfishly hoped he’d say no. “I’m glad he said yes.” So glad that it feels like my heart is being crushed in a vice.
Tegan chuckled. “She texted me half an hour ago. I’ve never seen so many exclamation points in my life.” She pulled a lock of my hair out from under the strap of my dress. “She said he looked good, by the way. I guess it seemed worse this morning, what with all the blood.”
I pretended to fiddle with the silvery waistline of the dress. “That’s good.”
“The timing was interesting, wasn’t it?” said Tegan. “A few hours after you say yes to Ian, Malachi finally gives Laney the answer she wanted?”
“Coincidence.” And even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t afford to think too hard about it. I raised my head and turned to her. “Thanks for this.”
Her gaze strayed down my arm and lit on the tattoo there, on the beautiful face of Nadia inked on the inside of my forearm. Tegan had been shocked when she saw it as I tried on my first dress. She’d stared at it for a long minute, looking like she was about to cry.
That was her, she whispered. That’s how she looked. And then she’d changed the subject.
Now, she touched it lightly with the tip of her finger. “I laughed at Nadia when she said I would like you if I ever gave it a chance.” She smiled sadly and then shook her head, like she was trying to shed the grief. “Anyway, she was right.”
I stared at her jaggedly stylish dark hair, her fragile smile. Nadia had told me the same thing, that I would like Tegan if I gave her a chance. I still found her kind of hard to take, but it was difficult not to enjoy her at the same time. She was clever and funny and understood things about people that I just didn’t get. With all my heart, I wished Nadia were with us right then, because I knew it would have made her happy. I wished I could have done this when she was alive. “Yeah, she was.”
I ate dinner with Diane and indulged in a little modeling session to show her I’d picked a dress that didn’t make me look like a streetwalker. When we were done, I went around the house to check all the locks and then waited in my room until she fell asleep. Most of that time was spent on Facebook, punishing myself by reading Laney’s ecstatic status updates from the past few hours. Malachi’s page was much more reined in, but his status had been changed to say he was headed to prom with Laney. It wasn’t like him to say something like that, more like a part he was playing. But then again, I wasn’t sure I knew the real him anymore.
After reading that, I spent some time in the bathroom feeling nauseated. I managed to hold it together somewhat, and wandered back to my room to check Ian’s status. His most recent update was also about prom, and I read it over a few times, wondering if he really meant it.
Going to the big party with a beautiful girl. Love my life.
It made me feel warm and shivery at the same time. I marveled at his simple, sweet enthusiasm for things. I wanted to slip into it, hide inside it, and forget my responsibilities.
But now I could hear Diane snoring down the hall, which meant it was time to go and face them instead. I drove to the Guard house, checking myself in the visor mirror every once in a while, just to make sure I had my game face on.
Malachi and I were patrolling together tonight.
He was waiting on the porch when I arrived, sitting in the swing with his long legs stretched out in front of him, wearing cargo pants and a loose hoodie. As I pulled to a stop next to the Guard car, he stood up, shouldering his own pack, and tromped down the stairs. Malachi had an excellent game face.
I got into the Guard car and so did he, settling his pack between his feet, and then staring straight out the windshield. “Where are we going tonight?” he asked.
I faced the front, too, my stomach aching. “I figured we could hunt around downtown. The Mazikin are trying to pick people up, and they’ve gone beyond the homeless. I think they’re trying to lure people who have cash. And cars.”
“All right.” He put on his seat belt.
I waited, my hands on the steering wheel, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Are you okay? From this morning, I mean.”
“Raphael did as well as he always does. It’s like it never happened.”
Bullshit. “That kid hit you pretty hard. He caught you by surprise. That doesn’t happen often.”
He shifted impatiently in his seat. “I was slow. But I could have handled him.”
I flinched. I wasn’t used to this edge from him, this irritation. “I know. But if you’re feeling depressed or something, we should talk about it. I mean—”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, I want to hear that you’ll stop punishing yourself for accidentally killing Nick! I want you to snap out of this funk, because I’m afraid you’re going to get yourself killed!” My heart pounded with frustration. I wanted to shake him.
“Duly noted, Captain,” he said in that overly formal tone that told me he was shutting me out completely.
I gritted my teeth and drove us to Providence. “When was the last time you heard from Henry?” I finally asked. He’d been texting every few days since he’d headed out alone, just to let us know he was alive. But I knew that he sometimes called Malachi, and part of me wondered what on earth they talked about.
“He checked in this afternoon. He hasn’t had any luck.”
“I wish I knew what the Mazikin were up to,” I said as I exited the highway and headed for downtown. “I mean, is it a mistake, patrolling the streets? Should we be focusing more on our school? They got Evan. Who will they try to take next?”
“I don’t know. But if we can keep them busy here rather than at school, our friends will be safer.”
I decided to say what I’d been thinking ever since realizing the Mazikin had possessed yet another of our classmates. “I know one thing that could draw their attention. Me. That’s what they said they wanted anyway. Evan confirmed it this morning.”
Malachi grimaced. “You can’t be serious. I understand the value of bait, Lela. Ana and I used that tactic many times. But only when we knew what we were facing and had a strategy to get her out. She was too important to sacrifice. And so are you.”
I found a spot in an alley and edged the car in, deciding to drop the argument for the moment. There, in the dark, Malachi handed me my knife belt. He slid a baton into a holster on his back, hidden under his shirt. Our movements were practiced. We didn’t need the light. I barely needed to think. He’d trained me like this, in the dark of the basement of the Guard house, so now my fingers moved on their own to check the knives and secure them along my waist, to make sure they were in exactly the right position in order for me to draw them quickly. Wordlessly, we got out of the car and walked down the street, side by side.
The cool breeze blew my hair around my face as we walked block by block, keeping an eye out for alley dwellers and hookers, anyone looking like they were seeking company for the evening. Up near one of the massage parlors, I spotted a familiar face. It was one of the two boys I’d seen the night Henry and I stayed in the homeless camp. “Hang back,” I said to Malachi.
He slowed his pace and let me walk ahead, sniffing the air. The kid, lanky and narrow-faced, watched me approach with wary curiosity, probably wondering whether I wanted drugs or sex or both. Which seemed incredibly sad, because he looked no older than fifteen. He crossed his arms while his fingers fiddled with the loose cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “How’s it going?”
“I was going to ask you the same question. Do you remember me? We met a few weeks ago, out at the camp by the interstate.”
He took a cautious step back. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Where’s your friend?”
His brows drew together. But he didn’t run.
“The camp was attacked that night. I never got to see who got away. I heard you and your friend screaming.”
He looked at the ground at my feet and tugged at a greasy curl of hair on his forehead.
“I’m not a narc,” I said.
“Is he?” The kid raised his head and stared at Malachi, who must have been standing behind me.
“No. He’s here to make sure no one gets dragged off. Is that what happened to your friend?”
The kid’s gaze darted back to mine. “He wasn’t my friend. We were just hanging out.”
He and I took a step away from each other as a cop car cruised by. “Have you seen him since then?” I asked.
He nodded. “A few times. There’s some kind of new weed on the street, and he’s deep into it. Selling it, I think. They’ve got some kind of crazy scene going on in this abandoned warehouse down in the Jewelry District. I think it’s off Eddy Street?”
“You been there?”
With another quick shake of his head, he backed up so that he could lean against the brick storefront behind him. “I’ve heard they’re like a cult. Rumor is some of them were victims of those attacks, you know? Like what happened in our camp. And now they’ve sort of gone in together and have their own thing going.”
Or, more likely, those victims of the attacks were Mazikin now. They’d become the bad guys. And there were enough Mazikin at this point that they were being noticed by others. It was both good and bad—people knew they existed now, though they had no idea what the Mazikin were. They
would assume a cult or gang, when the truth was much more terrible. I looked over my shoulder at Malachi, who was watching the kid with a predator’s concentration. His gaze slid over to me, and he inclined his head in the direction of the Jewelry District. I nodded.
I pulled a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and held it out to the kid. “Nice talking to you.”
He wiped his nose with his sleeve and took the cash with a silent bob of his head. Something about the vulnerability of that movement caught me, and suddenly I wondered where this kid’s mom was. Was she worried about him? Had she thrown him out? Or was she like my mom, stuck in oblivion?
“Take care of yourself,” I murmured, pivoting on my heel, now headed to scope out the Jewelry District. How easily I could have been just like that kid. How close I had been.
“Are you all right, Captain?”
I let out a long, slow breath, wishing he would say my name. I needed to hear it now. “It’s fine. I wish I could have done more for him than just giving him some cash. He’ll probably be shooting it into his arm within the hour.”
“You know a lot about what happens out here,” he said. He put a careless, heavy arm around my shoulders as another cop drove by. We were supposed to be a couple, out for a stroll, and it made me ache.
“I lived a different kind of life than the kids we hang out with at school, that’s for sure,” I said. “I come from a completely different place.”
“I can see that. They are quite privileged, I think.” His arm dropped away from me.
My chuckle was bitter. “Yeah, that’s a nice way of putting it.”
We were walking along Friendship Street, past apartment buildings and parking lots, and I held out my hand and lightly slapped it flat against each parking meter we passed. Malachi was not nearly so loose, as usual. His line of vision zigzagged up and down the street, lingering on each person we passed. His intensity freaked people out, often causing them to avert their eyes and scoot to the far edge of the sidewalk. A few even crossed the street to avoid us.