Nine Lives of Chloe King

by Celia Thomson

  “As much as I don’t want to sound like a sensitive New Age boy,” Paul said with a sigh, “I think my dad might have something to do with this as well. You know?”

  When they got to the lobby, Amy saw them and waved; she had something that looked suspiciously like a giant portfolio under her arm.

  “Hey, guys. How are things?” It sounded forced. Even for Amy.

  “Not too shabby,” Chloe answered, shrugging.

  “How’s Brian?”

  Chloe tapped her tooth, remembering at the last moment to keep her claws sheathed. It was really much more satisfying the other way, but they were in public. Finally she decided. If she had no control over the rest of her life, at least she could keep things clear with her friends.

  “He kissed me.”

  Both of her friends’ jaws dropped, and Chloe wished they could see themselves. They actually made a pretty good couple. It sucked that they were breaking up, considering Chloe was just getting used to them as an item.

  “He’s not dead,” she said shakily, hoping it was still true. It had been at least two hours since she last called Dr. Lovsky. “And he hasn’t shown any symptoms yet, either. They’ve got him pretty closely monitored, so if he goes into anaphylactic shock, at least they’ll be able to catch it. He was a dumbass,” she added before Amy could open her mouth. “I guess he thought he was going to die—he was so out of it from the blood loss.”

  “Holy cow,” Paul said, shocked beyond the realm of swear words. “Sooo glad I didn’t wind up with you for two minutes in the closet at Amy’s thirteenth birthday party.”

  “Life sucks,” Chloe said, letting the misery descend on her for one brief moment, in the safety of her friends. Then she shook her head. “I’ve got to find out what happened to Xavier.”

  Amy shrugged. “I’ve been checking the newspapers and public police records online every day since you asked a couple of weeks ago—nothing has come up about him yet. There was one obituary for a Xavier Constantine, but he was eighty-seven.”

  “Well, that’s good news, I guess. Not for the old guy, I mean.”

  “Are you going to check out his apartment? See if he’s even still there?” Paul asked.

  She shook her head. “Not tonight. I’m … kind of exhausted. I’m just going to go home.” Chloe wasn’t sure she would be able to deal with it if she found out Xavier was dead—one of the reasons she had been putting it off for so long.

  “Oh, you’re busy tonight,” Amy said, a little too quickly. She turned to Paul. “You want to hang, maybe? Watch the Star Trek marathon?”

  As clichéd as it was, Chloe realized this was a train wreck she could only watch. She kept hoping her friends would not say the inevitable. Superhuman strength, night vision, and no way to salvage the next minute of conversation. She sighed.

  Paul shifted uncomfortably. “Not tonight.”

  That’s one. …

  “Other plans?” Amy pushed, still trying to sound bright.

  That’s two. …

  “No, I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

  That’s three!

  Between Amy’s constant pressure and Paul’s stupidly excessive honesty at the wrong time, it was amazing they hadn’t spontaneously combusted earlier. Chloe found herself actually closing her eyes and wincing.

  “Oh,” Amy said, color rushing to her cheeks.

  “Well, I gotta get going,” Paul said, pretending to ignore everything that had just happened. He reshouldered his messenger bag—this one said Aladdin Sane on it—and went through the emergency exit that hadn’t been hooked to an alarm system since the seventies, when students started toking up in the alley. Exit the cowardly hero, stage left.

  “I have to go to the dance meeting,” Amy said shakily, too shocked and upset to react yet.

  “You? You’re on the fall formal committee?” Chloe asked with more surprise than was strictly necessary, trying to get her friend to smile.

  “Alyec bet me I couldn’t do a better job than Mrs. Dinan….”

  “I’ll go with you,” Chloe volunteered, thinking about what a smart guy her boyfriend was.

  The gym was decorated with little dots of students in socks and bare feet—No Street Shoes—with charts and clipboards, pointing at this set of bleachers and that basketball net, joined by the art teacher, who waved her arm around like she was painting the ceiling. A pile of fake ravens was thrown into a corner, bags of little evil glowing plastic spiders and caterpillars next to it. Probably favors or something. It was the only time Chloe had actually seen anyone excited about anything in the gym. But through the windows and skylights she could see that the sky was bleakly heading toward sunset, the layers of white clouds like dryer lint after a load of whites. This was the downside of fall—Halloween, leaves, apples, cider, and the beginning of the party season aside, this was a little bit of the autumn that set in before Thanksgiving and lasted through Christmas: dark and drear, cold and snowless.

  Chloe led her friend to the closest set of risers, where she could cry in relative peace.

  “We haven’t—he hasn’t said anything definite …,” Amy murmured, the tears finally coming.

  “Sounds like he pretty much just did,” Chloe said as gently as she could. But sometimes her friend got so wrapped up in her own emotions, she wasn’t able to clearly see what was actually going on around her.

  “Hey, pretty ladies.” Alyec neatly vaulted straight up over the side and onto the step where they sat, with an ease and grace that was completely inhuman. No one in the gym was watching. Amy sniffed back a tear; Chloe knew she liked being let in on the Mai’s secret lives, that even Alyec trusted her with it. But she still quickly lifted her bright green scarf to cover her face and blot her eyes.

  “Hey, we’re waiting for you.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re doing this …,” Chloe muttered.

  Amy was still blowing her nose and trying to hide her tears; Alyec answered for her. “Yup, she’s helping with the overall installation. The gestalt, if you will. Putting the ’Wicked’ in ’Something Wicked This Way Comes.’” There was an extraloud sniff behind the scarf. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Alyec asked nonchalantly. “And where’s your little friend?”

  Chloe whacked him with the back of her hand.

  “What, he finally came out of the closet?” Alyec asked, faking concern.

  “He’s not gay,” Amy protested, blowing her nose and crumpling the napkin up. “It would be easier if he was,” she added weakly.

  “Well, he does have a bit of the mama’s boy,” Alyec said. “I mean, he’s nice and all, but not exactly a stud. Oh, come on.” He grabbed the tasseled ends of Amy’s scarf and tugged them a little. “I’ll bet he never really got your juices going, someone like you.…” He pulled Amy in and suddenly dipped her so low that her frizzy hair was inches away from the wooden benches, his face inches from hers.

  “What are you doing?” Amy demanded, the sadness momentarily banished from her face.

  “Cheering you up. I could kiss your tears away if you wanted, but that would be fatal—wouldn’t it?”

  The two were frozen there for a long moment. Neither Alyec nor Amy blinked or looked away. Tension crackled.

  Chloe found herself staring, too. And then she found herself getting really annoyed.

  “Let me up, douche bag,” Amy finally snapped, breaking the spell.

  “As madam commands; I live to serve.” With one fluid curve of his arm he pulled her upright, then brought it below his stomach for a formal bow.

  “Thanks for, uh, staying with me,” Amy said, turning to Chloe. “And for the little lesson about how all men suck,” she added with a glare at Alyec, then marched off toward the art teacher, who now looked like she was conducting an invisible orchestra with a large paintbrush she had found somewhere.

  Chloe watched her friend go; as angry as her steps were, she still fidgeted nervously with her scarf and the places where Alyec had touched her.

>   “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Chloe demanded, turning back to him.

  “I was cheering her up, like I said.” He sat down on the step above her and picked up a flyer that someone had left there, as though the incident was almost completely forgotten.

  “Alyec.” Chloe tore the paper out of his hand so hard that her claws threatened to come out.

  “I wasn’t really going to kiss her,” he said innocently. “I don’t want her dead.”

  “You weren’t really joking about kissing her either, were you?”

  The silence between them was as deep and long as the one between him and Amy—but for very different reasons.

  “Chloe,” he said with a smile, “you knew I was a flirt. You’ve always known I’m a flirt. It came free with purchase.”

  Chloe glowered. She knew what he said was true, but still… It was one thing when it was Keira and Halley and whoever else. He’d told her he didn’t really feel anything for them—besides the unavoidable fact that they were human. But her best friend? And right in front of her?

  “And what if you could?” she demanded, thinking of Brian and Xavier and her talk with Kim. “Would you have?”

  “Chloe, why are you getting so pissed?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing happened—I really was just cheering your friend up.”

  But she didn’t believe it. There was definitely something different between him and Amy than the other girls. For one thing, she hated him. And for another, the opposite of love isn’t hate. It’s indifference.

  “I just—“She couldn’t put it into words. She was just pissed. That was all—she didn’t like what she had seen and it had pissed her off and he was her boyfriend, for chrissake.

  “I didn’t realize you were so jealous,” he said, a little coolly. “Do you really think you have a right—what about that sick human lover of yours?”

  It hit her like a slap; he had never spoken to her that way before. But from the day she first saw her claws, the afternoon when she was on the phone with Brian and IM’ing with Alyec, she knew this moment was coming. It was all fun and games with two boyfriends, two different races, one in love with her and one, well, in “fun” with her, but now was the moment of reckoning.

  “Fair enough,” she said, swallowing and choking back tears, the same way Amy had just a few minutes earlier with Paul.

  “I know the way you feel about him,” Alyec continued quietly. She had finally gotten beneath his carefree, joking exterior, and this was how. Happy now, Chlo?” I keep hoping you’ll change your mind. But whatever we have, even if it’s just for kicks, it would be nice if you kept the same rules for everyone.”

  Run away.

  It was a powerful instinct; she hurt and didn’t know what to do or say. She fought it; she was the One, right? She had faced down psycho-killer assassins before.

  “Fine,” Chloe said through a clenched jaw. “You’re right.” She stood up and shouldered her bag. “I have to think about this. I’m going home now.”

  “Chloe,” Alyec said, a little more gently, a lot more uncertainly. “I didn’t mean for us to fight about this—”

  “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t keep the two of you dangling. It’s wrong. I’m going home, good night,” she said with finality, and walked off to the bus stop.

  Chloe had only gone for the bus to put some literal space between her and Alyec, but she got off after a couple of stops. The only time she had to think anymore was when in transit, and she wanted to make it last as long as possible. In the cold dusk air, by herself, the irrational passion drained away. True, the whole Alyec-Brian thing would have to be worked out sometime, eventually, but that wasn’t the real issue of the fight.

  The real issue was how she couldn’t have a relationship with Brian. The real issue was a stupid curse because she was Mai and because of things that people had done five millennia ago. Chloe was suddenly overcome with panic and she froze: she really could be responsible for the deaths of Xavier and Brian. They could really die or already be dead.

  She shook herself and ran a hand over her face and scratched her scalp, extending her claws, trying to snap herself out of it. This had all better—

  Chloe stopped, suddenly aware of an almost-noise. Something so slight it could have been missed even by her Mai hearing or dismissed as some random night noise—a mouse, a rat, a can being blown—but it ended too sharply. Like the moment she noticed it. A very slight crunching of gravel, a …

  She started walking again, picking up the pace. If it was a mugger or rapist or whatever, she had no doubt she could handle herself. But those were monsters of the past; the things she feared now were more complicated and dangerous. She shook her head and kept walking.

  What I really need is a vacation. Yeah, that was it. The sort of place inspired by sequined flip-flops, flowery beach bags, expensive sunblock, and fruity drinks. She and her mom could go somewhere fun for Thanksgiving instead of Grandma and crazy Aunt Isabel’s; maybe bring a lot of good, crappy books, lie out on the beach, swim. …

  There it was again.

  Perfectly matched with her own footsteps.

  “Okay, come on out!” she yelled, planting her feet and resting her thumbs around her backpack straps. “You sure picked the wrong day to screw with me!”

  A low wind hit her coldly in the shins and made ripping noises as it tore through fenders, hydrants, and other metal obstacles. Pebbles eddied around Chloe’s feet like they were caught in an invisible wave. A man rode slowly past on a Vespa, staring at the crazy teen in the street. His headlight had no power against the gray in the air and lit up nothing besides itself.

  “I warned you! We have a truce,” she shouted. The wind shifted direction and threw the words back into her own face; her voice couldn’t have carried more than a few feet.

  No one appeared or owned up to making any noises.

  “This sucks,” Chloe muttered. “I am out of here.”

  And then she turned and ran.

  Eight

  “Hey, Mom,” Chloe said wearily, closing the door behind her. It was only half an act. She threw her book bag onto the counter and went over to the fridge, looking for something easy, filling, and comforting.

  “Bag off the counter,” her mom said without looking up from the magazine she was reading on the couch—Utne Reader. “I have some risotto from Lixia’s we can nuke and a salad, so don’t spoil your appetite.”

  Carbs. Nice, warm, comforting carbs. Just what Chloe wanted. She grabbed a Diet Coke with lime and wandered over to the couch, where she plopped down, head in her mom’s lap and feet propped up on the armrest.

  Anna King looked over the magazine at her daughter. “Hard day at work? How was your exam?”

  “Oh, that was fine. It’s everything else that sucks.” Chloe ticked off things on her fingers. “Paul and Amy are breaking up. I think Alyec might like Amy. Paul’s dad is already dating his secretary. I have two boyfriends, both of whom are kind of … burdens right now. Mr. Hyde—not even my own teacher, mind you—wants me to be on the math team. And according to Kim, I’m supposed to lead my lion people into a new age of spiritual enlightenment.”

  “Paul’s dad is dating his secretary?” Chloe’s mom said excitedly, leaning forward and putting her magazine down.

  “Mom …”

  “I know, honey. It’s just…” Her mother’s eyes unfocused, trying to imagine. “That little piece of fluff? She’s like an anime character. One of the evil ones.”

  “While I appreciate the teen-appeal metaphor, can we please get back to me now?”

  “Being on the math team will look great on your applications.” Anna began to play with her daughter’s hair, twirling a stray lock with her finger and trying to fix it to the top of her head under another lock.

  “So would being the leader of a clandestine race of human feline warriors,” Chloe growled.

  “I suppose …,” her mother said carefully, “if we couched it in different terms, like that girl did in her speech for Wh
ale Rider Actually, that would be a great essay—how you looked for your biological roots as a teen and found far more than you ever expected….”

  “Mom.” Chloe sat up and looked her mother right in the eye. “They really want me to lead them. You know, lead?”

  There was a long pause. Her mother opened her mouth and blinked a few times, stalling—something Chloe had never seen her do before. Attorney Anna King was almost never at a loss for words. Even when she was the victim of kidnapping.

  “Better make sure you get into Berkeley, then,” she finally said with a faint smile. Then she squared her jaw and her look turned serious. “Chloe, I know I don’t understand everything that’s going on with you and the other … Mai, or even have anything to do with it. It’s more than obvious what some of your other… friends and people think of me, your human mother. But whatever you decide to do, do it educated. Foreign kings and royalty have always sent their children, princes and princesses and whatever, here for college. You would make a much better leader of your people with a university degree.”

  Chloe thought about this, sinking back into the couch. “I don’t think Sergei would mind keeping a heavier hand in until I’m ready.”

  “He’s the one with the red hair and the gun?”

  “Uh, just a gun that one time. Usually it’s claws.”

  “It looked like he was trying to shoot me. Or Brian. Or that other boy,” her mother said levelly.

  “At least he didn’t kidnap you,” Chloe countered weakly. “Are you going to try to press charges? Against the Order of the Tenth Blade?”

  Her mother made a nasty face. “Who would I have for witnesses? Are your Mai going to stand up for me in court? And Brian—who seems to be the only decent one of the lot—has disappeared.”

  Chloe winced guiltily. All cat business aside, if she revealed to her mother that “the only decent one of the lot”—and sort of her boyfriend—had been beaten half to death by his own friends … Well, it would just confuse the whole dating issue more, and that would definitely make Chloe’s life even more complicated.