by C. J. Hill
It set Jesse’s nerves on edge, the two of those guys walking the same direction. It was probably nothing. Coincidence. Still he kept track of both guys out of the corner of his eye.
Jesse had heard that dogs could smell fear. Slayers could, too. Their senses picked up on someone’s tension, adrenaline, rise in sweat, breathing, and heart rate before they attacked. A Slayer might not consciously realize what was happening, but his instincts would kick in, warning him that something was wrong and he needed to be on guard.
It was happening to Jesse now. He immediately calculated the area around him, looking for weapons and exit routes. He zipped up his leather jacket. It was thick enough that it would offer some protection against knives. He slipped his backpack on his shoulders. It would be hard to fight with it on, but it shielded his back.
Jesse noticed an oversize, thick book lying on top of a shelf. He picked it up as he went by, holding on to it tightly. Diego had been talking about his costume. He glanced over to see what Jesse had grabbed. “‘Mothers of Faith,’” he read from the title. “What do you need that for? Are you going to dress up as your mother for the party?” Diego snorted. “That would be funny. You could pass out failing grades to everyone.”
The guy in the hoodie slowed his walk so that Jesse would catch up with him. The man in the suit quickened his pace. In a few seconds, Jesse and Diego would be flanked by the strangers.
Who were these guys?
“Are you actually going to check it out?” Diego asked, gesturing at the book.
“I forgot something.” Jesse turned sharply and walked toward the nearest shelf. That way, if the men attacked him, they wouldn’t be able to do it from both sides at once.
As Jesse walked, he flipped a button on his watch that erased the time and turned the face into a mirror. He kept his back to the men, letting them think he wasn’t paying attention. Jesse reached for a hardback on the highest shelf, a George Washington biography. He checked the watch reflection as he did. From the sound of the men’s footsteps, Jesse knew where each man was, where Diego was, too. The mirror let him see what the men were doing with their hands.
The guy in the hoodie realized Jesse wasn’t heading toward the door anymore, and turned back around to see where he was. The man in the suit paused, then swiveled toward Jesse and lifted his hand. Whatever he’d concealed in his book was now pointed at Jesse’s neck.
Jesse spun around. He simultaneously flung the Washington biography at the man’s head and lifted the thick Mothers of Faith book in front of his neck to block the fire.
The man in the suit got off a shot. Not a bullet, thankfully. A small dart struck the center of the book cover. Then the biography slapped into the man’s face. His head snapped back, and he let out a yell of surprise. He took a stumbling step backward, and the book that had covered his gun fell to the floor.
Jesse didn’t have time to follow through on his attack. The hoodie guy pulled a gun from his sweatshirt, aiming it at Jesse. Again, at his neck. Must be another dart gun, or the guy would have gone for his chest. These had to be Overdrake’s men. They’d come to drug him, not kill him.
Jesse rushed toward the guy, swinging the book up to shield his neck as he did. The shot went off and another dart embedded itself in the cover. Two steps later, Jesse kicked the gun from the assailant’s hand. He followed that move with a roundhouse kick into the guy’s chest. The man let out a muffled yell, which was nowhere near as loud as Diego’s startled exclamation.
Diego stood about ten feet away, staring wide-eyed at the scene. Jesse didn’t have time to do more than glance at his friend. The man in the suit was facing Jesse again. A trickle of blood ran down the man’s nose, and a red spot over his eye was already turning into a welt. He pointed his gun at Jesse’s legs. The determined scowl on the man’s face told Jesse that if he missed this time, he’d use his fists.
Instead of trying to swing the book low to protect his legs, Jesse sprinted up the bookshelf in front of him, using it like a ladder. Books spit from the shelves, spilling everywhere. When Jesse neared the top, he pushed off, swung his arms, and backflipped through the air—still holding the book out like a shield. On the way down, his legs slammed into the man in the suit. The stranger’s arms flailed, then he crumpled onto the floor.
The guy in the hoodie retrieved his gun, but by this time, the people in the library noticed what was going on. A teenage girl yelled, “They’ve got guns!”
The panic was instantaneous. Almost in unison, the crowd by the checkout stand turned and rushed toward the library doors. Mothers grabbed their children. People pushed to get ahead of one another. A couple of kids screamed.
The hoodie guy paled and swore. He realized he wasn’t going to have an easy time getting through the stampede he just created. Without firing another shot, he turned and ran toward the door.
This only increased the level of screaming from the crowd.
The man in the suit still lay on the floor by Jesse’s feet. His gun had fallen and lay next to some scattered books. Jesse reached down to grab hold of the man’s shirt. The guy wasn’t going anywhere until Jesse found out how Overdrake had located him and what else he knew.
Jesse wasn’t fast enough. With one swift move, the man kicked Jesse’s feet out from underneath him. Jesse fell to the ground, knocking into the bookshelf as he did. A couple more books thunked onto the floor.
Irritating.
Jesse turned to grab the man again. The guy had gotten to his feet, was out of reach and about to sprint to the front door. Jesse went for the gun on the floor, yelling to Diego, “Stop him!”
Diego stared at Jesse, hands raised in disbelief like he’d just told him to cut off a limb. The man dashed by Diego unhindered.
Useless. You’d think after all those war video games Diego played, he would be better in a fight.
Suit man ran toward the door—along with everyone else on the floor. Jesse picked up the dart gun, only hesitating for a moment because he knew he was wiping the man’s prints off and adding his own. The police wouldn’t need the guy’s prints. They would have the entire guy.
Jesse glanced over the gun, taking a few seconds to figure out how to fire it. He would get in trouble for shooting it. The police stopped considering shots self-defense when your attacker was fleeing. Didn’t matter, though.
A bottleneck had formed at the doors, people shoving to get outside. The book scanners in front of the doors let off shrill beeps of protest.
Jesse didn’t have to hurry to catch up with Overdrake’s men. They were caught in the crowd. That’s what happened when you got too eager to make a shot. The men should have waited until Jesse was outside so they could get away without any problems.
Jesse aimed at the man in the hoodie first. The guy had nearly shoved his way through the crowd to get to the door. It was a tricky shot and Jesse didn’t have a feel for this gun’s timing. The last thing he wanted was to hit a bystander—or worse, a child. He didn’t know what was in these darts. It could even be poison.
Jesse heard Diego striding up to him, but didn’t worry about it. Diego was a friend not a threat. Which was why Jesse didn’t move out of the way before Diego hit the gun out of his hand.
“Are you crazy?” Diego demanded. “You can’t shoot into a crowd.”
Jesse went for the gun again, knowing as he did it would probably be too late. It wasn’t just a matter of aiming anymore. He would have to get away from Diego in order to shoot.
“Now?” Jesse growled. “Now, when I’m trying to stop the bad guys, you spring into action? Where were you when I needed you to tackle that guy?” Jesse picked up the gun and scanned the crowd.
It was too late. The hoodie guy was gone and the man in the suit was disappearing out the door.
Diego held out both hands, left them there hanging in the air. “You don’t tackle armed hoods!” He waved his hands for emphasis. “What’s with you? Suddenly you’re flipping from shelves and flinging—put down the gun!”
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Jesse thought about sticking around until the police showed up. What could the police do, though, except ask Jesse a lot of questions he couldn’t answer? He slid the gun into his jacket pocket. No point leaving it here when it had his prints on it. Besides, if the police wanted to investigate, they could look at the darts. Two of them still stuck out of the Mothers of Faith book.
“Let’s go,” Jesse said. He strode toward the door and Diego went with him, looking over his shoulder nervously as though there might be more crazed gunmen hiding out in the nonfiction section.
Jesse picked up his pace. He had to get somewhere private so he could call Dr. B and report the attack. He had to decide what to tell his parents. He had to figure out if his home and school were safe for him now.
Somehow, Overdrake had found him.
CHAPTER 14
Dirk held a sword in one hand and shuriken in the other. Should he play the part of pirate or ninja for Halloween? Maybe he should go to the party as a normal teenage boy. That was a costume in and of itself.
On second thought, drunk guys and weapons were a bad combination, and there were bound to be a lot of drunk guys at the party. Half the football team was coming. Dirk put both of the weapons back in his closet and went to the kitchen to get something to eat.
Even though it was only three in the afternoon, Cassie was at the stove cutting up vegetables for stir-fry. Chicken strips sizzled in a nearby pan. It was early for dinner. She must have decided to get the meal and trick-or-treating done quickly so she could put Bridget to bed as soon as possible. Cassie felt sickest at nighttime—pregnancy stuff. Dirk didn’t ask much about it.
Bridget stood by the island, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a bundle of impatient energy. She was already wearing her cat ears and a leopard-spotted dress. When she saw him, her voice went pouty, accusing. “You’re supposed to go trick-or-treating with me.”
“I will.” Dirk took an apple out of the fruit bowl. Cassie couldn’t yell at him for eating before dinner if it was something healthy. “We’ve got to wait until later. It’s not even close to dark yet.” His party didn’t start until nine and Bridget would be tired by seven, seven thirty tops.
Bridget’s expression didn’t change. “Mom says you won’t take me. She says Nora has to, and I don’t want to go with her.” Nora was the fifty-year-old housekeeper who didn’t have much patience for children, especially if they were the messy variety.
“I can take you,” Dirk said, biting into his apple.
Cassie kept cutting up the bok choy. Her knife thwacked in rhythm with her words. “You won’t have time, and I can’t do it. I already want to go lay down.”
Bridget leaned her elbows on the island. “Why can’t Daddy take me?”
“Daddy is busy tonight.”
“I’ll have time,” Dirk said.
“No, you won’t,” Cassie said blandly.
Bridget folded her arms with a humph. “I hope when he gets here, our baby brother will go trick-or-treating with me.”
“Our baby brother?” Dirk repeated, turning to look at Cassie.
She pushed the bok choy to the edge of the cutting board and smiled. “Didn’t your father tell you? We found out from the doctor yesterday. It’s a boy.”
Dirk didn’t let any emotion show on his face. He wasn’t even sure what emotion he felt. A brother. Another dragon lord. Maybe Dirk’s replacement if he stepped out of line. “Cool,” he said. “That’s what you wanted.”
Cassie kept smiling, self-satisfied.
“I wanted a sister,” Bridget reported to no one in particular. “I wanted to put insy-winsy bows in her hair.”
That’s when the alarm on Dirk’s watch beeped. It was the stuttering sound of a warning. The face read, “Code 2.” One of the Slayers had been attacked. No backup needed. It was an alert for the rest of them to be cautious.
The message had come from Jaybird. Jesse.
So whoever Dirk’s father had sent hadn’t managed to drug Jesse. Dirk felt a smug sense of triumph about that. The Slayers weren’t as easy to take down as his father supposed. And now everyone else would be watching for danger.
The triumph didn’t last long. This wouldn’t be the end of it. His father would only move on to his second plan.
Cassie pulled a couple carrots onto the cutting board and sliced through them with a forceful chop. “I told you that you wouldn’t have time.”
Dirk stared at her and felt his stomach sink. It was here. The time he’d been dreading. The part he didn’t want to play—traitor.
CHAPTER 15
When Tori got the warning alert on her watch, she was dressed in a Supergirl costume and standing in a large, decorated conference room at the George Washington University Hospital. Her father and his staff were putting on a Halloween party for the children there. The Supergirl costume was her own private joke. She was a flying superhero now. She might as well get the cape and shiny red boots to match.
A look at her watch codes told her Jesse had been attacked. Jesse, who was always so careful; Jesse, who wouldn’t even give her any of his contact information. How was it possible that Overdrake found him?
She stared at her watch, worry mixing with fear in her stomach. Not for herself—her father had secret service agents in the building. Overdrake’s men wouldn’t get in here unless they were less than five feet tall and wore medical ID bands around their wrists. She wanted to call Jesse, needed to hear his voice to reassure herself that he was all right.
That wasn’t procedure. She was only supposed to use her phone if she had something to report, not to check up on people. Besides, Dr. B was probably talking to Jesse right now and she shouldn’t interrupt.
The desire to call didn’t go away. She stared at her watch so long that Aprilynne texted her, “We’re not even halfway through the party yet. Suck it up.”
Tori and Aprilynne were running the fishing booth. It was a five-foot-tall screen, decorated with happy-looking fish frolicking through turquoise waves. Tori was sitting behind the screen next to piles of toys. On the other side, Aprilynne—dressed in a stunning Snow White costume—handed out fishing poles to the line of waiting children. Tori clipped stuffed animals on the hook for the little kids, books or games for the older ones.
It was impossible not to notice that these children weren’t well. They didn’t move with the same frenzied intensity that regular kids had on Halloween. Some were attached to IV poles. A couple sat in wheelchairs. The room smelled bleakly sterile.
Tori didn’t answer Aprilynne’s text. She stopped staring at her watch, stopped waiting for more information to appear on its face.
A moment later her cell phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket and saw a text from Dirk. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she texted back. “Do you know what happened?”
Since Dirk was a captain, Dr. B gave him more information than he gave the rest of the Slayers. After a moment, he wrote her back. “Some guys came after Jaybird with a dart gun. Be extra careful today. Stay home.”
Too late for that. She had to attach toys to fishing lines. “Don’t worry about me,” she texted back. “I can take care of myself.”
His next text contained only a number: 12.
“12?” she wrote. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That’s the number of times you were killed during surprise attacks at camp. Trust me on this one. Stay home and lock your doors.”
He had counted the number of times she’d died? She hadn’t even counted the number of times she’d died.
She would have liked to retort with the number of times she had survived camp’s surprise attacks, but she hadn’t kept track of that number, either. “I’ll be fine,” she wrote. When it counted, she knew how to be careful. Really, he worried about her too much.
CHAPTER 16
Dirk tugged his shoes on with more force than the task required. “It’s Halloween,” he told Cassie. “Couldn’t Dad do this a different night?”
Bridget sat at the kitchen table next to him, arms folded, a frown on her face. Dirk gestured to his sister. “Halloween only comes once a year.”
Cassie stirred the vegetables, unconcerned. Spurts of steam hissed in the wok. “So which do you think is more important than the country’s future—your party or your sister’s trick-or-treating?”
Dirk tied his first shoe. “Bridget has looked forward to this for months.” He could complain about his dad disappointing Bridget without getting in trouble. Dirk couldn’t say what he really thought—which was that the whole thing was awful. At moments like this he didn’t care about the country’s future. He only cared about his friends’ futures. It was selfish and shortsighted, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that way.
Cassie poured more sauce onto the vegetables. “We’ll make it up to Bridget.”
Typical. They’d probably buy her a new pony and think everything was good.
“Your father will call soon,” Cassie went on, “and tell you what you need to do.” She turned to look him in the eyes. “You’ll follow through this time, won’t you?”
“Yes,” he said stiffly. He yanked his last shoelace so hard the end snapped off. He swore, kicked off the shoe, and then undid the other. He’d have to wear a different pair. “So what exactly is the plan?”
Strips of meat were in a frying pan beside the wok. Cassie dumped them into the vegetables and stirred them around. While she spoke, she cast a glance at Bridget, measuring her words so as not to say too much. “Your father’s men are picking up one of the Slayers. They’ll hold her until the other Slayers come for her.”
“Who?” Dirk asked. “Which Slayer are they going after?”
Cassie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure your father will tell you when he calls.”
Tori. It was going to be Tori. His father would take her to ensure Dirk did exactly what he was supposed to.