Nine Lives of Chloe King

by Celia Thomson

  “Paul, Amy, go home!” Mrs. King ordered. “You too, Chloe. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you need to get out of here.”

  “The deal was Chloe for you,” Whit said, pulling his attention away from the four new teenagers and back to Sergei. “We are prepared to let that deal continue, no questions asked, no blood, everyone goes home safely.”

  “You’re trading a woman’s life for that of her own daughter?” Brian said bitterly. “I guess I should have seen that coming. After Mom … I should have known.”

  “You shut up, Brian. I’ve had just about enough of your lip about your mother for this lifetime,” his dad growled. “You’re unworthy to even speak her name.”

  “Ah, father and son.” Sergei sighed. “I do so love the warmth in human families.”

  “What would you know about that?” Richard demanded, jamming his gun into the side of Anna’s face for emphasis. “Don’t cats screw anything that moves and then move on?”

  “You’d better muzzle the child, Whitney. Don’t let him start what you can’t finish,” Sergei said, waving his hand in the air. It was clawed. Chloe wasn’t sure if Brian’s dad understood what that meant: that he was just about ready to attack.

  “Finish? Like when you finished off entire villages—”

  “That was five thousand years ago,” Kim pointed out as calmly as possible. She and Alyec had slowly put themselves in between Amy and Paul and the rest of the people there. Amy bobbed her head around so she could watch what was going on; Paul just looked confused.

  “Um, yeah.” Chloe cleared her throat and spoke up. Just to let people know that she was still there. Wasn’t she the reason everyone was here tonight? No, I’m just an excuse, she realized, looking at the fanatical faces around her. Both sides were itching for a fight, a real one, after years of uneasy sort-of truce in this country. Led by two middle-aged leaders who felt they had something to prove.

  “Maybe we can talk about this,” Chloe’s mother suggested, also as calmly as she could. “There seems to be a long-standing dispute between your two groups here.”

  Chloe was horrified to see tears running down her mother’s cheeks—of fear or pain as the gun was jabbed into her temple, she wasn’t sure. My mother. Something inside Chloe finally snapped.

  “Sir! Ramirez is down!” A young man wearing an outfit similar to Richard’s came running forward with a gun, four neat lines of blood across his face. “We were attacked from behind—he’s bleeding badly, sir. But we got one of them good.”

  “A preemptive strike, Sergei?” Whit demanded, pulling a short, curved sword out of his coat.

  With a snarl, the female kizekh who had been arguing with Kim leapt at the soldier.

  Ellen, her name is Ellen. Chloe had watched Star Wars with her just a few evenings before. She was completely Mai now, eyes slit and fangs bared and tearing into the young man like he was paper.

  From then on everything happened in slow motion.

  Silently, Richard took the gun from the side of Chloe’s mom’s head and pointed it at the lion woman. Almost in aftereffect, muffled blasts afflicted Chloe’s ears, three bangs, one after the other.

  Brian immediately made for Richard, a look of raw hatred on his face.

  Amy and Paul looked at each other, confused, then Amy screamed ever so slowly; Chloe couldn’t make out the words, but she and Paul began to run.

  More Tenth Bladers came out of the night. Chloe was stunned by their numbers—at least a dozen; far more than the kizekh had thought. They must have been hiding downwind. Why had Brian’s dad brought them all? It was just supposed to be her and him. Even the dickhead holding the gun to her mom’s head was a surprise….

  As in a bizarre instructional film about reproduction, each Tenth Blader found a Mai, each Mai found a Tenth Blader, and they all began throwing weapons or struggling in the dust. Even Kim and Alyec. The look on Kim’s face—white-eyed horror turning to rage as someone attacked her, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Alyec tried to shove her out of the way….

  Chloe didn’t know what to do.

  She had come here to save her mother. And now what? What could she do?

  No one was attacking her; the struggle was going on inches from her feet, the very one she’d been trying to prevent.

  Sergei neatly avoided Whit’s attack with the knife, moving far more agilely than a man of his age should have been able to. Before Brian could reach Richard, Sergei brought his square hand full of claws down like it was a giant paw and cuffed him squarely on the side of the face; Richard fell down instantly, and Sergei neatly retrieved the gun as he did.

  “Nobody move!” Sergei demanded, spinning around and leveling the gun at Mrs. King. “Call off your men, Whit, or I’ll shoot your captive.”

  Chloe couldn’t quite believe what was happening. It made sense—the Tenth Bladers would do anything to protect a human, but still … was he serious?

  Paul and Amy froze; Mrs. King did, too.

  Suddenly Chloe had a path, a thing to do.

  She ran, sprinting for her mom. That was why she was there.

  “No!” Brian screamed, and made for Sergei. “Leave her alone!”

  And Sergei fired.

  It could have been meant for Brian, or it could have been meant for her mom. Chloe would never know. All she was sure of was that this was her fault, her doing. She dug a claw into the ground and pushed herself forward.

  There was very little pain when the bullet first entered her flesh.

  But when it hit her heart, it was like her entire body caught on fire.

  “Chloe! No!”

  She had no idea who was screaming: it could have been male, female, or a number of people.

  She crumpled to the ground.

  Her heart was very loud in her ears, and the ground was very cold under her head. The rest of her was on fire, as though she were being burned alive.

  She listened interestedly to the muted sounds around her and the slow thumping of her heart.

  After a few more beats, it stopped entirely.

  Twenty-six

  Blackness. Echoes.

  The sounds of something distant that might have been water dropping, but thicker. Wind howled somewhere, but no breeze touched her face.

  Chloe recognized where she was even before she opened her eyes.

  She was farther back from the edge of the cliff than the first time, when she had come to this place after falling off Coit Tower. Far below was what looked like a pool of mercury that bubbled and rippled uncertainly.

  She noticed things she hadn’t before: directly overhead there were millions and millions of stars and galaxies and strange planets she couldn’t have named, far more terrifying than the emptiness she had thought was there. It was like she was at the end of the universe, the end of everything.

  Something screamed, low and insistent. When she squinted, Chloe could just make out shadowy forms flickering in and out of sight, just beyond her vision, impossible to hold for more than a second. Like they weren’t there—or like they were an optical illusion.

  Chloe backed away to the edge of the cliff, putting as much distance between them and her as she could.

  “Chloe. Saht.”

  It was a whisper, a purr, and a growl all combined.

  One shadow hovered closer than the rest, lingering.

  “Daughter.”

  “M-mom?” Chloe asked, quavering. The shade had no recognizable form, slipping back and forth from something vaguely bestial to something upright.

  “Now you know your destiny. Go back.”

  “But wait—what is this?” Chloe asked desperately, trying to grasp at things she knew in her heart were fleeting and impermanent. “Where am I? What happened to you?”

  The shadow wavered and shifted, like there was extremely hot air between them.

  “Return to your living mother. She is reality now—as I am, in your past.”

  Chloe didn’t understand. She opened her mouth to ask s
omething more, but a rush of hot air hit her on the chest like a fist. Chloe flew backward off the cliff, into the darkness below.

  Life, when she returned to it, was pain. She reached into her chest with her claw and with an agonized groan pulled out the bullet that was lodged there. Blood poured down her front and slowed to a trickle as she watched. Soon it stopped entirely, and she felt an itching where the skin and sinew began to knit.

  Sounds began to make sense around her, not that she cared. Murmurs of, “She is the One!” and, “Why isn’t she dead?” and just, “Chloe!” from the people who simply loved her. The fighting seemed to have stopped; several of the Mai were on their knees before her.

  Her mother was beside her, making sure she was okay.

  No, wait—her mother had carefully angled herself between Chloe and the Tenth Bladers, shielding her daughter with her body. Whit’s men shifted hesitantly on their feet, starting to raise their guns and then dropping them, unsure what to do.

  Shakily Chloe got to one knee and then rose from there. It hurt every part of her, but she stood.

  “Anyone,” she said, loudly and evenly so everyone could hear her, “human or Mai ever touches my mother again, I’ll kill you. I will hunt you down and kill you. And I have seven lives left to do it in.”

  Chloe put her hand to her side, which still burned. She leaned over a little to ease the pain, facing Whit and his remaining Tenth Bladers. “Listen to me: I did not kill the Rogue. He fell off the bridge when I was trying to help him back up. I have never hurt anyone. Neither has Alyec or Kim, or Paul or Amy. Or my mom. You can all leave us out of your little war.”

  Amy and Alyec ran forward when she began to sway, each throwing one of her arms over their shoulders. Paul and Kim followed.

  “As for the Mai …” She looked directly at Sergei. There was no proof that he’d actually sent assassins after her mother, but he was the second person that evening to train a gun on her. “Home isn’t Mai or human. Home is home. And I’m going home now.”

  She put out her hand and her mom took it.

  Clasped, unnoticed in her other hand, was her mother’s silver earring, the one Brian had found. She looked back at those they left, the wounded, the dead, the respectful Mai, and the confused humans.

  Brian was not among them.

  Chloe, her four friends, and her mother walked quietly out into the night.

  Twenty-seven

  Two Mai and two human teenagers sat in a booth at the Washington Diner, silently drinking coffee or hot chocolate, picking at a large order of cold, greasy fries topped with thick bright ketchup that reminded everyone there too much of blood. The fluorescent lights made everything harsh and lifeless. The late-night waitstaff was grumpy and standoffish, which was fine for the four gathered, who had no urge to socialize with strangers.

  Alyec, Kim, Paul, and Amy sat uncomfortably, like distant cousins long separated at a family reunion told to go make friends with other kids their age. Kim had borrowed a scarf from Amy and wrapped her head with it like a babushka, hiding her ears. The waitress had just rolled her eyes—she was used to the late-night freaks who came in.

  “So …,” Paul said, playing with a fry. “What does this whole … being-the-One thing mean?”

  Kim had her paws wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate and was staring into the depths, looking spacey even for her.

  “It means she is the natural leader of this pride. That her mother was probably the previous leader and that she, like her mother, fulfills all of the traditional requirements: loyalty, bravery, compassion, fair-mindedness, and a willingness to come up with solutions to seemingly impossible situations.” Kim pulled herself together a bit, falling into her usual didactic role. “It means that her ka is true and noble and that she would do anything to defend her friends and family. It means she has nine lives—or seven now, as she said. And other … less definable traits.”

  Paul and Amy nodded mutely, and even Alyec seemed interested in the subject, like it was news to him.

  “It means Alyec is no longer next in line to be leader,” Kim said carefully.

  “That’s okay; too much responsibility,” Alyec said, trying to be humorous—but it came off sounding bleak. Even he wasn’t untouched by the events of the night.

  “From what you’ve said, it sounds like that Sergei guy should no longer be the leader,” Paul said slowly. “That it really should be Chloe.”

  Kim nodded mutely and looked back down at her hot chocolate.

  “Did you see those two old freaks?” Amy spoke up, voice wavering. “It was like Mr. Rezza and Sergei were off in their own little world. … Did you see how he treated Brian? Like either one of them is likely to give up power. Ever.”

  “I have never seen violence like that before,” Kim said into her mug, then looked up, wide-eyed and shocked, like a child. “I’ve seen fights and duels, but…”

  Alyec nodded, leaning on his hand. “I know. I thought it would be fun or something.”

  Paul and Amy looked at each other. Paul reached out his hand and squeezed hers.

  “We didn’t end up doing anything to help her,” Amy finally said, frustrated. “We were supposed to be doing all this detective legwork crap, and none of it mattered. …”

  “If it wasn’t for your idea with the walkie-talkie, we never would have found her,” Alyec pointed out.

  “We were there.” Kim looked up at all of them. “Supporting her. I think that sometimes, that’s enough.”

  “One thing’s for certain,” Alyec added, stirring his coffee with a claw. “Her life is going to get even more complicated and a lot more dangerous from now on. …”

  Twenty-eight

  Chloe and her mom sat on the couch, mostly silent. It had taken over an hour just for Chloe to tell her mother the story and another hour for Mrs. King to ask the inevitable questions.

  Mrs. King got out some expensive scotch and downed a shot. She offered Chloe some, but Chloe declined, wanting cocoa instead. Mrs. King made it for her, going through the movements robotically.

  “Oh, here’s your earring,” Chloe remembered, taking it out of her pocket. It gleamed dully in the light. She turned it over in her fingers, staring at it. “It’s so random. … Such a tiny chance that it fell, and that Brian found it.”

  “Give your mother a little credit,” the older woman said with a wry smile, indicating how both of her ears were bare. “Every time they moved me, I dropped another piece of jewelry or whatever, hoping it might provide someone a clue as to where I was. I think I’m out about three thousand dollars’ worth of the stuff.” She handed Chloe her cocoa and shook her head.

  Chloe smiled—it was still too soon to grin. I really do have the coolest mother. She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Chun or Amy’s mom thinking to do something like that. But her face darkened again as she thought about moms and the other thing she had to tell hers.

  “I saw my biological mother,” she said after they had been silent for a while. “When I was, uh, dead.”

  Mrs. King looked up at her through slightly glazed eyes—dim from the evening, not the drink. There were bruises and scrapes on the side of her head where the gun had been jammed against it. Her usually pixie-perfect hair was tousled, and her glasses were bent. Chloe wished she didn’t have to see her mother this way—she might have thought her mom was a perfectionist bitch sometimes, but seeing her like this was almost unbearable.

  “What did she say?” her mother asked after a moment.

  “She said that she was proud of me and that I should go back and rescue you—that you were my real mother, too.”

  It was a difficult thing to say, but Chloe was glad she had.

  Even when her mom began to cry and hug her.

  They finally said good night, somehow both knowing it was safe for now. Chloe had meant every word she had said about killing whoever tried to attack her home again, and the Mai seemed to respect her now. And the Tenth Blade had something to think about.

  She wearily
climbed the stairs to her room, wanting desperately the hot, cleansing water of a bath but too exhausted to seriously consider the effort of running the water or waiting for it to fill.

  Chloe sat on her bed, empty of all thought, trying to kick off her sneakers without bending over to untie them.

  She was startled by a tap at the window.

  Brian was there, his frame obscuring a surprisingly clear night full of stars. Chloe felt her stomach lurch for a moment when she saw him. There was blood on his face and hands; where he tapped, an ugly dark blotch remained.

  Chloe leapt up and pushed open the window.

  “Brian!” she cried. He was holding his shoulder, like there was a wound there.

  A bullet wound, she realized, catching a faint odor of metal and powder. It smelled like poison to her, like death.

  “Hey.” He smiled weakly. “I’m all right. Nothing too serious.”

  “Come in—I can get some bandages. …” He was balanced on the outside of the sill as neatly as if he were Mai, and she was afraid he would fall if he lost too much blood.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I just came to say goodbye.”

  She didn’t understand; it was all over. The good guys had won—and he was a good guy.

  “Why? What’s the—?”

  “I’m a dead man,” he said wearily. “Richard is basically calling a fatwa on me—as a traitor to the Order. And my father refuses to protect me. You never quit the Order while you’re alive.”

  “But you had no choice! You told me! Your father made you.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I said my vows when I was fourteen—and now I’m a wanted man. I have to disappear.”

  Finally Chloe began to cry, streams of silent tears coursing their way down her cheeks.

  “Brian, it’s not fair. You were just trying to help me. It’s all my fault. …”

  “Nothing is your fault, Chloe.” He reached in and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Nothing is your fault. You’re good, kind, and smart…. I have no doubt that you’ll make a great leader to your people.” He looked her seriously in the eye. “But you know that you’re a top to-kill on the Order’s list, right?”