by Ben Reeder
“If the bad people come . . .” she said softly, and let the sentence hang.
“I’ll be there,” I finished as I put my arms around her and hugged the stuffing out of her. It was a promise I didn’t mind making, not for Dee.
Mom gave me a hug of her own. Over her shoulder, I could see Simms watching us from the other side of the patrol car with his arms folded across his chest. His mouth twisted like he’d just swallowed a lemon before he started toward us.
Dr. C put his hand on my shoulder as Simms led Mom and Dee to the patrol car, and gently steered me toward his green Range Rover. He waited until they turned the corner at the end of the block before he pulled away from the curb. I looked to my right, trying to etch the vision of home into my brain as we pulled away, and hoped I’d get to see it again. Collins’ blue Neon slid in behind us. The sun was still bright, the sky still blue, and the morning was still too damn perfect. How was I supposed to be all moody and angst-ridden in this kind of weather? I felt a good brood coming on, and I needed gray clouds and rain to set the scene.
Sunday evidently hadn’t gotten the memo, because it kept up the brood-killing ray of sunshine bit. Not even a cloud dared show itself against the azure sky as we drove along.
“I’m sorry Chance,” Dr. C said as we crossed Viaduct Avenue.
“What for?”
“Letting you get involved in all of this. The Maxilla is my responsibility, and I let it slip right through my fingers. And your family almost paid the price for my negligence today.”
Grown ups. Always apologizing for the wrong things. Here he was, giving me the mea culpa for losing a sword that wasn’t stolen, but not for showing my Mom how screwed up I was. Thanks, Dr. C., I thought. You’re a huge help.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I told him. “Those guys didn’t come to my house because of anything you did, sir.”
“You’re starting to sound like me,” he said as he pulled to a stop at a red light. “I know, it was their own choices that led them there, but whoever they work for is obviously willing to go to great lengths to protect it.” His free hand gestured as he shook his head.
“No, I mean no one has the sword.”
“You’re right, logically, I shouldn’t be blaming mysel—” He stopped mid-word. “What?”
“No one. Has. The sword,” I said slowly. “It wasn’t in the case. Mr. Chomsky moved it before he was killed.”
“How do you know that?” he asked. I dug the note and the tarot card out of my pocket and held them up. He spared a glance, then smiled. “Typical of Sydney to leave a note. So, why didn’t you mention this before?”
“Mr. Chomsky hid it for a reason. I figured if the magi thought it had been stolen, and whoever wanted it thought the Council still had it, everyone would go looking in all the wrong places for it. Seemed like the best way to keep it safe at the time. After that, I just kind of . . . forgot about it.”
“It was probably the best thing you could have done,” he told me after a few moments.
The light changed and he didn’t say anything for a few seconds as we kept going.
“Sydney’s journal said it had called a Seeker. I think when you picked up that card, you answered that call.”
“So, it didn’t choose me; I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Or the right place, at the right time. I don’t think it was completely random, Chance. If you didn’t at least have a shot at finding it, the wyrd would never have attached itself to you.” He gave me what I guessed was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but I wasn’t buying it. How was I supposed to find a magickal weapon that didn’t want to be found?
Dr. C’s words came back to me. It did want to be found. It had chosen a Seeker: me. I’d picked up the card and the note thinking I was protecting the sword’s hiding place. In a weird way, or more accurately, a wyrd way, I’d taken on Mr. Chomsky’s job as the Maxilla’s caretaker when I’d done that. My eyes went to the card in my hand. Up until then, I’d been thinking I’d been forced to take this on. The truth was, I’d put myself on this path months ago when I’d made the decision to keep protecting the sword in Mr. Chomsky’s place. The Maxilla had been Mr. Chomsky’s responsibility, and he’d died trying to keep it safe. I might not have chosen to become the Seeker back then, but I’d made the choice to protect the Maxilla. Evidently, it had also accepted me as its protector. Now, the only way to protect it seemed to be to find it. And to do that, I had to become the Seeker. If he’d still been alive, I was pretty sure Mr. Chomsky would have already agreed to the wyrd because it was just what needed to be done.
I looked out at the painfully blue sky. Finding the sword would also prove to everyone that Mr. Chomsky had made the right choice when he’d taken a chance on me. The thought left a calm feeling in its wake. Maybe I needed to prove that to myself, too.
Chapter 11: Monday (3 days left)
~ We respect the symbols of cowan governments. Where they fly their flags, we Accord to be neutral ground. ~ Philadelphia Compact, 1779
School was a blessing. I rode in with Collins, which probably saved Dr. C’s life . . . or mine. One more hour with him, and I would have been exploring new opportunities as an axe murderer. My head pounded and my eyes were dry and gritty from too little sleep. Collins veered off as I headed across the lot to the tree Lucas and Wanda were waiting under.
“Dude!” Lucas called out as I crossed the grass, “Where were you yesterday?”
“We went by your house and no one was there!” Wanda added with a note to her voice that edged on panic. “Are your mom and sister okay? What happened?”
“We had some uninvited guests over Sunday morning,” I told them softly once I could get close enough to answer without having to shout. “Cops have Mom and Dee in a safe house somewhere, and I have Collins playing shadow on me.”
“How do you go from being arrested Saturday night to your family being in protective custody this morning?” Lucas asked.
“You know about that?” I asked.
“Everyone in the whole damn school knows about it,” Lucas grumbled. “So does everyone at Lincoln Heights and Truman.”
“Julian’s friends were spreading the word before they even got you in the squad car. You were uh . . . you were even on YouTube,” Wanda added apologetically.
“YouTube, great,” I grumbled. “Dr. C’s gonna have kittens.”
“So, dude! What happened?” Lucas demanded.
I laid it out for them, starting from Saturday night until I ended up over at Dr. Corwyn’s place. “After that, it was pretty boring. Research, training . . . maybe a little sleep when Dr. C wasn’t looking. I made a couple more touchstones last night . . .” I let the sentence trail off under the roar of a motorcycle pulling up to the curb.
A heavy knot formed in my chest as I watched Shade swing her leg over the back of the big Harley and pull the black bowl helmet off. She had on a pair of faded jeans that were tight in all the right places, with a black leather jacket over a red t-shirt. Her gray eyes were hidden behind a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. As she turned her head toward me, I got to see her smile. For a few seconds, I imagined that smile was because she was happy to see me.
“Shade!” the guy on the bike barked. Her eyebrows dropped down below the top of the glasses when he reached out and grabbed her arm. He pulled her around to face him. “Don’t you turn your back on me!”
Wanda called my name as I got to my feet and started toward them. Monkey brain was shouting suggestions as I stalked over, and some of them didn’t sound half bad. I could see that Alexis was saying something to the guy, but I couldn’t hear a word of it. She looked pissed, though.
“I don’t give a damn if you’re the queen of the goddamn Nile,” the guy on the bike said as I got closer. “You still show me some respect. You got it?”
He was a pretty big guy, with black hair and a line of fuzz down his jaw he probably called a beard. He pulled the pair of sunglasses off his nose with his free
hand and leaned forward. He had a strong jaw under the last few ounces of baby fat on his face, and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than a few times. His eyes flashed gold, a sign I’d learned to recognize was his wolf showing.
“You okay, Shade?” I asked softly.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The words were clipped and tense and said she was anything but fine.
“Go away, little boy. My girl and I are having a private conversation.” He gave me a dismissive wave with the sunglasses.
“No, you weren’t,” I said slowly. “This conversation stopped being private when you grabbed her.” He turned his gaze on me like a gun sight, and his lips pulled back in a silent snarl.
“Get the hell outta here before I break both your arms, punk,” he growled.
“Deek, stop it. This is Chance; he’s my gothi. He’s just doing what any member of my pack would do if some asshole grabbed their alpha.” Shade’s voice left enough venom in the air to kill a rhino, but Deek just smiled.
“So, you’re the demon’s apprentice. You don’t look like much.” He smiled as he looked me up and down. “Keep your pack in line, Shade, or you’re going to end up losing a couple of members before I take over.” Even as he was talking a line of crap, he let go of her arm. To my right, I could see Collins coming our way. I should have let it ride, but monkey brain staged a bloody revolt and took over my tongue.
“Keep your hands to yourself, or you're gonna end up losing a limb,” I said. I could almost feel the macho oozing out of my pores. Somewhere in the back of my head, monkey brain hooted its approval.
“Both of you stop it!” Alexis hissed. “Deek, if you're trying to impress me, it isn't working, okay?”
“You know you need a strong man, Shade,” Deek said as he pointed the arm of his sunglasses at her. “Strong enough to lead your pack . . . and strong enough to tame you. I'm the only man strong enough to do that. This little warlock isn't half the man I am.”
I fought down the urge to pull my wand and blast this bastard across the parking lot, mostly because it would be too messy and piss Shade off even more than she already was. Mercy and compassion didn't even cross my mind, and I scheduled a little time during my mid-life crisis to feel guilty about it. If I lived that long, I figured I'd have about eight seconds to spare around then.
Deek reached out and put one finger in the middle of my chest with enough pressure to leave a bruise.
“That mouth of yours is going to get you killed,” he said softly.
The sound of a camera clicking to my right brought both of our heads around. Collins lowered his cell phone. His badge was hanging around his neck, and he made sure his gun was visible at his hip.
“That's assault,” he said with a smile. “And if you've got a warrant, I can find it.” He wiggled the phone at Deek. “I've got an app for that.”
Deek laughed in his face. If he expected Collins to be intimidated, he was in for a lot of disappointment. I'd seen him face an alpha werewolf a few months ago, and no beta with an attitude and a Harley could match that level of badass.
“Try something, cop,” Deek sneered. To his dismay, Collins just raised his eyebrows and turned to me.
“Is he one of your crowd?” he asked.
“Like King,” I told him.
“A Were, huh? I've got ammo for that,” Collins smiled. Deek’s sneer slipped a little.
Shade put her arm around my waist and laid her head on my left shoulder. Her eyes closed for a moment, then she opened them and looked at Deek.
“You need to go,” she told him with a tone in her voice that was an obvious dismissal. Deek's face twisted into a frown, and he leaned forward.
“We'll talk later,” he said before he started the Harley.
From the way he said it, it didn't sound like talking was all he thought was going to happen. He pulled away from the curb, and I expected Shade to pull away from me. It had been weeks since she’d been this close to me for this long, especially not in public.
“You're an asshole,” she said without moving.
“And you're a pushy bitch,” I told her with a smile as I put my left arm around her waist. It felt good to do that again, and I didn’t want to let go.
“What was that all about?” Collins asked.
“Beta from out of town,” Shade said.
“Trying to put the moves on Alexis,” I added. “Not part of the same problem.”
Collins nodded and slipped his badge back under his blue polo shirt.
“Try not to make any more people want to kill you, okay?” he said before he headed back to the side of the school. Shade did pull away from me at that.
“Who's trying to kill you now?” she asked.
“No one. You say that like it happens all the time or something. It's been at least . . . three months since someone tried to kill me.” I started toward the double doors of the school. Lucas and Wanda got up as we passed, both glancing toward the street like Deek might be coming back.
“So the girl selling the love talismans doesn't count?” Shade taunted me as she kept pace with me. Behind me I could hear my two friends chuckle at my expense.
“She only threatened to kill me . . . on Facebook,” I muttered the last.
“And on Twitter, twenty blogs, her friends' websites, and in a dozen emails. She just didn't get around to trying to kill you before the cops got her.” Then we were inside, and it was too public for us to talk about our real lives any more. At least outside we had a little space where we couldn’t be overheard by anyone with normal hearing. But even with the hall almost empty before the bell, we weren’t supposed to risk being overheard. In here, we stopped being a warlock and an alpha werewolf and had to be normal kids. Well, normal-ish. Okay, weird kids without any magickal mojo.
“Did you spend the whole weekend with Deek?” I asked quietly as we headed for our lockers.
“You know I didn’t, Chance,” Shade hissed in my ear.
“He dropped you off, Alexis. It’s like watching you with Brad all over again.” I could feel her stiffen beside me, even though we weren’t touching.
“Would you rather come pick me up on your bicycle?” she asked. I took in a sharp breath at that, and I gave her a dark look and reached into my bag of comebacks for something really scathing. All I pulled out was a bitter, “Fine, whatever,” before I turned away from her and stalked toward my locker.
I heard Wanda’s boots behind me, but I didn’t wait for her. She caught up to me and stayed quiet as I opened my locker and pulled my Algebra book and notebook out. I felt her eyes on me as she leaned her back against the locker next to mine and fiddled with her pentacle. It was just out of place enough with the punk Catholic schoolgirl look to remind me how serious she was about her beliefs. The pentacle never varied, no matter what she wore.
“What?” I growled.
“Apologize to her, Chance,” she said quietly. “You need to be the one who does it first.”
“Why? She was the one who hit below the belt,” I said.
“With the bicycle thing?” she asked. “Look, I know you hate when people remind you about the money thing, Chance, but you did just play the Brad card on her. You both need to say you’re sorry, but you have to say it first.”
“Again with the ‘Why?’ question,” I said as I closed my locker.
“Because Brad never would,” she said with a mysterious smile.
“Sometimes, Wanda, you make me want to— unh!” I grunted as someone rammed an elbow into my side and knocked the book and notebook to the floor. The rib Donovan had busted Friday night flared from a dull ache to a spike of pain that felt like it shot through my whole left side.
I vaguely heard snickers and whispers as a trio of Shade’s old cronies strutted by.
“Freak,” the one closest to me hissed.
I steadied myself with my right hand against the locker and fought to breathe for a second or two, then knelt to grab my books. Just as I was about to lay my hand on them, an
expensive sneaker slid into view and kicked them down the hallway. A hand pushed my head down further for a second as I heard an insincere “Oops, sorry about that, loser,” from above me.
When I looked up, I could see the retreating back of a letter jacket over a pair of designer jeans. One of Brad’s teammates, if the perfectly styled, dyed-blonde hair was any clue. The guy looked back over his shoulder at me and raised his middle finger.
I raised my own hand, then stopped. I didn’t want to end up in front of Principal Ravenhearst’s desk again, and I sure as all Nine Hells didn’t want my mom to have to face off with another high-priced lawyer threatening to charge me with attempted assault. It was part of the downside of having a rep as the guy who supposedly knew magick. Even a bluff could get blown into something more serious. Besides that, Dr. C would have had me doing extra training for a week again. That was the down side of being the guy who actually knew magick.
I snatched my folder up from the ground, but not before it had collected several sets of footprints. Wanda met me halfway with my Algebra book and a conciliatory “Assholes.” I nodded and we headed for class. My Monday wasn’t starting out much better than my weekend had ended.
The pain in my ribs kept me awake through Algebra class. After learning hundreds of hexes, curses, and spells, all of them having variables that had variables of their own, math was simple. Once you solved for x, it didn’t change if the month was different or if the stars weren’t aligned right.
Wanda’s advice echoed in my head all through first and second period, between the whispered comments and the snickers when Mr. Strickland asked me something about Prohibition. I had to admit I didn’t know which state was the first to outlaw alcohol in its constitution, or when.
English was easier, but Phys. Ed kicked my ass. You try running laps with a busted rib. Having a girl on my mind and a double handful of words I wanted to take back even if it meant I had to eat them raw didn’t make things any easier.
I dragged myself into the cafeteria with the same sense of dread that I’d learned to get used to this semester. Off to my right, I could see Brad with his new group of cronies, his arm around the girl of the month, Chelsea Tyler. She looked like she’d been poured from the same mold as his last six girlfriends: blond, skinny, and tan. The rest of the girls at the table were pretty much the same. The guys were all wearing the same shirt in different colors or patterns, and had enough product on their heads to start their own salon. I avoided their table by habit, but I could still hear the laughs as they spotted me. Once Brad had figured out that Principal Ravenhearst was just waiting for an excuse to expel me, he’d made it his personal mission to make my life hell. New rumors about Shade and me floated around every week, and I knew I’d given them plenty to work with Saturday night.