Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure, & Magic

by SM Reine

  “Do you work tomorrow, Cady?” Bronwyn asked. She yanked the band out of her copper hair and began re-fixing her ponytail which had worked itself loose throughout the morning.

  “Um, no. Dad’s moving, remember? Thought I’d give him a hand.” I bent my head down over my plate, blinking like crazy to keep the tears back. Actually, my father said he didn’t want my help. He planned to pay some guys from his construction crew overtime to load and unload boxes, but I didn’t think I’d be able to keep myself from pitching in. Maybe he’d let me do the unpacking at his new place. If left to his own devices, I could picture him living out of cardboard boxes for the next year.

  Shawn shot Bronwyn a warning look and responded, “We’re sorry, Cady. We forgot. Are you okay? Wanna talk about it?”

  “Not really,” I sighed. I set my fork down, having lost my appetite. My friends stared at me with concern. I know they just wanted to be there for me, but I really needed to get through this day on my own. “I think I’m going to take off. I want to stop by the library before literature.”

  I stood up and carried my tray to the washing counter. As I passed by, I heard Lony’s trilling soprano erupt into a fit of giggles. How could she behave so normally today? Didn’t she care at all about our family falling apart? I took a deep breath. Of course she cares about our family, I reminded myself. She just deals differently, that’s all.

  I trudged up one flight of stairs and turned into the library, bustling with students avoiding the humiliation of where to sit in the cafeteria. The library was always busy the first couple weeks of school.

  I wanted to check out some books on the Russian royal family for my European History class. I had a vague idea of doing a Romanov family tree for my class project later in the semester. I jotted down the call numbers of two promising books from the computer catalog and set off for the stacks. After locating a large volume on Nicholas II, I stood in the aisle reviewing the table of contents.

  Suddenly, someone rounded the corner of the shelves and ran right in to me. I let out a little shriek and dropped the heavy volume on my foot, sending a white flash of pain up from my toes.

  “Damn! I’m so sorry!” the guy said, before muttering under his breath, “I’m such an idiot…”

  I bent down to rub my toe and retrieve the book splayed open on the floor. I wanted to be annoyed with him, but I didn’t have the energy for it.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I sighed. I carefully straightened the bent pages.

  I didn’t recognize him, but with over two thousand students, and this being the first week of school, there were lots of new faces roaming the halls. He wore a black button down over a white Flobots t-shirt and black, faded jeans. Over his eyes were thick brows and a disheveled patch of black hair. He carried a worn backpack covered in sewed-on patches of indie rock bands. Realizing I was staring, my face flushed.

  His shoulders were slumped, but I couldn’t tell if it was because I was so much shorter than him or if he just had poor posture.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I wasn’t okay, but my problems had nothing to do with my throbbing toe. “No, but I’ll live,” I replied dismissively. “What are you so into there that you couldn’t watch where you were going?” I gestured to his hand where he had a finger stuck in a book to hold his page.

  He held up The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with a guilty expression. “It’s stupid ‘cause I’ve read it like five times already….” His voice trailed off and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “Don’t panic,” I said.

  His brows knitted together in question. “I’m not?”

  I gestured to the book in his hand.

  He grinned. “Oh, right! Don’t panic.” The boy was obviously pleased that I had read the book enough to quote from it, proving we were both card carrying members of the same nerd club.

  His grin faded and his feet began doing the shuffling thing again. “Anyway… sorry to disturb you.” He pivoted and began walking away.

  “Wait!” I called after him.

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. Light purple shadows lingered beneath his eyes and his mouth was tight.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem…”

  The corner of his mouth twitched into a half grin, “No, but I’ll live.”

  As a sucker for all creatures in need, human, animal or insect, I decided to introduce myself. “I’m Arcadia Day. You can call me Cady…everyone does.”

  “I know. You’re in my literature class. And your sister, Avalon, has chemistry with me. Pretty names.”

  “Uh, thanks. I’m sorry, I never noticed you in lit, but don’t feel bad, I’m not very observant.” Duh! Why did I say that?

  “No problem. I sit a few rows behind you. I recognized you a moment ago by the back of your head.”

  I couldn’t help grinning. “So, considering I’m not so observant, and I obviously didn’t pick it up in class, are you going to tell me your name?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m Bryan Sullivan. I’m new. We moved to Dubuque this summer from Portland…the one in Oregon. Not Maine.”

  “Well, I guess we’re both heading to lit, so if you’ll wait for me to check this out, I’ll walk to class with you.”

  A spark of enthusiasm flashed in his eyes briefly before he stifled it in an effort to remain cool. He gave a quick nod. In a school as large as ours, it could be difficult to make friends.

  The first bell rang as I finished at the checkout counter. Bryan waited by the door, staring at his sneakers.

  “I have to stop by my locker, but it’s on the way,” I said. “Do you have your stuff for class?”

  Bryan nodded and patted his backpack. “They gave me a locker way up on the fourth floor, so it’s easier if I carry most of my books with me.”

  We pushed through the busy halls. The noise of the crowd around us didn’t make conversation very easy.

  “So how are you fitting in?” I shouted. “Making friends?”

  He shrugged. “My mom signed me up to play piano in the school jazz band. She thought it would help me to get to know some people. A few of the guys are cool, but we are in that talk-to-each-other-in-class-but-don’t-associate-outside-of-school phase.”

  “Ah, I suppose it takes time,” I replied. “So you play the piano?”

  “Started with lessons when I was four years old. I prefer the guitar, but the school already had plenty of guitar players, so piano it is.”

  “That’s so cool! I always wished I could play an instrument.”

  Lockers at our school are assigned by class and in alphabetical order, which means Lony’s locker is right next to mine. She and Cane were leaning against the doors of both, staring googley-eyed at each other and blocking my access when I approached.

  “Do you think you can go scrog somewhere else? I need to get into my locker.”

  Cane gave a Neanderthal-like grunt and Lony stuck her tongue out at me, but they did scoot over. Bryan waited by my side as I swapped my books out. Lony’s eyes did a double take when she noticed the boy was actually with me, but Cane steered her off toward their next class before she could say anything. Thank you, Jock Boy.

  I swung the metal door closed and spun the lock. “Ready?” I asked with a nervous smile.

  “So, you and your sister…you’re twins, right?” Bryan asked as we walked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I almost didn’t notice. You don’t seem much alike.”

  “I know. We’re actually identical, but you’re right…we don’t have a lot in common.”

  “Is she taller than you?”

  “No. Lony just never leaves the house without wearing at least a three-inch heel. She’s kind of a slave to fashion.”

  I looked down at my worn jeans and gray hoodie. And I’m obviously not.

  The halls were beginning to empty out as students made their way into their classrooms.

  “We also have a brother who’s a senior here, Aaro
n. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “No.” He shook his head, “It’s just me.”

  We stepped into class as the final bell rang. I slid into my desk, but glanced over my shoulder to see where Bryan sat. He gave me a melancholy grin as he rooted in his bag for a pen.

  Ms. Crowell paced a circuit around the room while lecturing about the religious beliefs of ancient Greece. We were reading the Sophocles play Antigone.

  I couldn’t focus on Antigone and her family problems; I had enough of my own. I rested my chin on my fist and pretended to pay attention. I didn’t want to dwell on my home life so my thoughts drifted to Bryan Sullivan. I tried to ignore the fact that he was sitting behind me, one row over, with me in his direct line of sight. I’ve always been a tad bit paranoid of being watched and knowing he was back there had me on edge. Instead, I tried to figure out why he seemed so distressed. Those shadows beneath his eyes were a clear indicator of lack of sleep. Maybe he hated living in Dubuque. I could certainly understand depression at moving to Iowa after living in a big city like Portland. Maybe he got in a fight with his parents and didn’t sleep well the night before. Maybe he got in a fight with his girlfriend…or maybe he had to break up with his girlfriend because of the distance, and now his heart was shattered into a million pieces.

  My day dreaming followed this line of thought. Bryan was an attractive guy. Well, okay, he was hot. He didn’t have the traditional super-jock good looks that Cane had, and he didn’t dress like a GQ model like Shawn, but there was definitely a magnetic quality in Bryan that made it hard to look away. If he smiled a little more and got some rest, he could easily be one of the best looking guys in school. It made total sense that a guy like him would have a girlfriend. What would she be like? I couldn’t see him with a popular fashionista like my sister. Bryan had a sense of mystery about him, or maybe it was intelligence. He’d want a girl with those same qualities. An artist maybe?

  Ms. Crowell’s voice wrenched me out of my head suddenly by asking me something. I sat up straight and tried to recall the question. I opened my mouth to speak, but honestly, I had nothing.

  When it became clear to everyone I hadn’t been paying attention, Ms. Crowell scolded, “I’m not sure where you were just now, Miss Day, but I’d appreciate it if you re-joined the class.”

  A few snickers crackled around the room. The teacher strolled down the aisle and called on someone else. I sat up straighter and began taking notes to keep my mind on the lecture.

  By the time the bell rang, I’d successfully put Bryan Sullivan out of my mind. I closed my notebook and gathered my things slowly. My last class of the day was French, located in the classroom just across the hall. I didn’t need to go to my locker, so I waited for everyone else to file out before getting up to leave.

  “Cady,” Bryan’s voice called from behind me. He stood with his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Where are you off to now?”

  “French. Right across the hall. What about you?”

  “Photography,” he answered. Yeah, I figured him for the artsy type. I could totally picture him holed up in a dark room poring over black and white stills of decaying buildings.

  We both stood there awkwardly for a moment. A couple of students for the next class entered the room and sat down. “Well, I guess we better get going then,” I said.

  When we stepped into the hallway, Bryan stopped me again. “Thank you. For talking to me, I mean.”

  I shrugged. “No problem. It must be hard going to a new school.”

  “Yeah…um…” His voice trailed off and he suddenly had trouble meeting my eyes.

  I waited, not knowing if he just paused, or if he decided to stop talking.

  “What?” I prompted.

  He opened his mouth to speak again, but the bell rang. “I’m going to be late. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Bryan jogged off down the hall and rounded the corner. What a strange guy, I thought.

  “Mademoiselle Day?” Madame Deveraux called to me from the door of her French class. “Entrez vous?”

  I nodded and ducked inside.

  Chapter 3

  The front door was already unlocked when I got home from cross country practice. Our first meet was still two weeks away, but I couldn’t wait. I’ve always been more of a track sprinter than a distance runner, but I’d worked on distance training over the summer and was going to enter some longer races this year.

  Cane lay sprawled out on my living room floor watching baseball highlights on ESPN. He’d kicked his sneakers off, giving me a view of the gaping hole in the toe of his sock. He didn’t turn to look hearing me come in. That wasn’t unusual. For some reason, he had trouble making eye contact with me. Maybe he didn’t think I was cool enough for him or something.

  Lony sat on the sofa with her feet on the coffee table, painting her toenails. I could hear the head-banging wails of what passed for music in Aaron’s world reverberating up from the basement. So much for doing my homework in peace.

  Backpack in hand, I began ascending the stairs to my room. Maybe I could see if Bronwyn wanted go to the public library for a while. With Dad moving, I should get my homework done tonight in case I didn’t feel up to it later in the weekend.

  “Hey, Cady!” Lony called out. “Come ‘ere a sec.”

  I sighed and poked my head into the living room. “What?”

  Lony grinned at me like a Cheshire cat. “Who was that uber-hot emo guy you were with today?”

  “Bryan Sullivan. He’s new.” I tried to turn away, but Lony kept talking.

  “He’s in my chem class, but he doesn’t talk much. Were you like assigned to show him around or something? He’s a junior, right?”

  “I assume so. We have lit together. And I wasn’t giving him a tour of the school. I just walked to class with him.”

  “Do you like him?” Lony teased with a sing-songy tone. Cane cocked his head to listen, as if interested in my answer.

  “Jeez, Lon! I talked to the guy for a total of ten minutes. Don’t you have cheerleading practice or something?” I asked. Changing the subject with Lony is easy if you bring the topic around to her.

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Cady, do you live under a rock or something? Tonight is the first football game.” She gestured to Cane wearing his jersey which looked deflated without the hulking pads beneath it. All of the players wore their jerseys to school on game days. “There’s no practice because we cheer tonight.”

  “Oh. Well…break a leg,” I replied and hurried upstairs. I wanted to get out of there before Lony could guilt me into attending the game to watch her jump up and down in her pleated skirt, chanting loosely rhyming lines meant to pump up the crowd.

  I hung my bag on the back of my desk chair. My bedroom was carefully decked out by my mother in every possible shade of pink. I hated it, but there’s no arguing with her when it comes to interior decorating. Mom is a realtor, and a successful one at that. Even though we’ve lived in this house for ten years and have no plans to move anytime soon, my mother insists on keeping the entire house in perfect “open-house” condition at all times. The one exception being Aaron’s room, but as long as he keeps his mess in the basement where she can pretend it doesn’t exist, she leaves him alone about it.

  I never liked the color pink, but somehow as infants it was determined that my color would be pink and Lony’s would be purple. That’s how people kept us straight, I guess. Anyway, the result is that almost every Christmas or birthday gift we have ever received from our extended family had been identical, but in either pink or purple. Like if our Grandma Nora were to get us sweaters, Lony’s would be a soft lavender and mine would be some hideous shade of Pepto-Bismol.

  I pressed the power button on my computer, and it purred to life. While it booted up, I called Bronwyn.

  “Hey, I’m going to do the loser thing and spend my Friday night at the library. Wanna come?”

  “Just a sec, I have to go to my office,” she said. I heard her wal
k the phone into her pantry and shut the door. She had a little stool in there where she could talk in semi-privacy. Her parents didn’t believe children should be allowed phones in their bedrooms.

  “The library actually sounds like more fun than what I have planned,” she said softly. “My parents are making me go to a lock-in at the church.” Bronwyn’s father was the minister the New Life Bible Church, and her mother served as the church secretary.

  “Aren’t lock-ins for like middle school kids?”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be me and a bunch of sixth graders. Mother says I have to go to set a good example.” Her mocking tone was the extent of her rebelliousness.

  While they’d always been very hospitable toward me, the Perkins’ tended to hold Bronwyn’s reins pretty tightly. She wasn’t allowed much of a social life outside of school and church functions. They wouldn’t even let her stay overnight at my house because I have a brother under the same roof. Apparently, Pastor Tom thinks Aaron is some sort of teenage Casanova with designs on seducing my friends while they sleep.

  “Maybe we can do something Sunday after church?” she suggested.

  “I probably shouldn’t plan anything. I don’t know how I’ll feel with my dad leaving and all.”

  “Sorry for my comment at lunch.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just really on edge about the whole separation thing right now. God, my eyes are tearing up just thinking about it!” I rubbed my face with the hood of my sweatshirt. I sniffed loudly into the phone. “Sorry…”

  “I know. How are Lony and Aaron taking it?”

  “Well, you know how Aaron is. I tried to talk to him a couple of days ago, and he just shrugged and returned to his underground lair.”

  “I don’t know why boys always think they have to be so stoic.”

  “I know, right? And Lony…she’s convinced that our parents are going to get back together and refuses to take any of it seriously.”

  “Do you think they will…get back together?”

  “I don’t know. Doubt it. With both of them running their own businesses, they never see each other. I have a feeling this ‘trial separation’ is really the first step in the divorce.”