Night World 1

by L. J. Smith

  “Maybe because they can house-sit for her,” Mark said with devastating logic.

  It was exactly what Rowan had said. Mary-Lynnette had a sudden feeling of paranoia, like someone who realizes that everyone around her is a pod person, all in on the conspiracy. She had been about to tell him about the goats, but now she didn’t want to.

  Oh, get a grip on yourself, girl. Even Mark is being logical. The least you can do is think about this rationally before you run to Sheriff Akers.

  The fact is, Mary-Lynnette told herself, brutally honest, that you panicked. You got a feeling about those girls for some reason, and then you forgot logic completely. You didn’t get any kind of hard evidence. You ran away.

  She could hardly go to the sheriff and say that she was suspicious because Rowan had creepy feet.

  There’s no evidence at all. Nothing except…

  She groaned inwardly.

  “It all comes down to what’s in the garden,” she said out loud.

  Mark, who had been walking beside her in frowning silence, now stopped. “What?”

  “It all comes back to that again,” Mary-Lynnette said, her eyes shut. “I should have just looked at that dug-up place when I had the chance, even if Jade saw me. It’s the only real evidence there is…so I’ve got to see what’s there.”

  Mark was shaking his head. “Now, look—”

  “I have to go back. Not tonight. I’m dead tired. But tomorrow. Mark, I have to check it out before I go to Sheriff Akers.”

  Mark exploded.

  “Before you what?” he shouted, loud enough to raise echoes. “What are you talking about, going to the sheriff?”

  Mary-Lynnette stared. She hadn’t realized how different Mark’s point of view was from hers. Why, she thought, why he’s…

  “You wanted to check out where Mrs. B. was—so we checked where Mrs. B. was,” Mark said. “They told us where. And you saw Jade. I know she’s a little different—it’s like you said about Mrs. B.; she’s eccentric. But did she look like the kind of person who could hurt somebody? Well, did she?”

  Why, he’s in love with her, Mary-Lynnette thought. Or at least seriously in like. Mark likes a girl.

  Now she was really confused.

  This could be so good for him—if only the girl weren’t crazy. Well, maybe even if the girl was crazy—if it wasn’t a homicidal craziness. Either way, Mary-Lynnette couldn’t call the police on Mark’s new girlfriend unless she had some evidence.

  I wonder if she likes him, too? she thought. They certainly seemed to be protecting each other when I walked in.

  “No, you’re right,” she said aloud, glad that she’d had practice lying tonight. “She doesn’t look like the kind of person who could hurt somebody. I’ll just let it drop.”

  With you. And tomorrow night when you think I’m starwatching, I’ll sneak over there. This time bringing my own shovel. And maybe a big stick to fend off wolverines.

  “Do you really think you heard a wolverine over there?” she asked, to change the subject.

  “Um…maybe.” Mark was slowly losing his scowl. “It was something weird. Something I’ve never heard before. So you’re going to forget all this crazy stuff about Mrs. B., right?”

  “Yeah, I am.” I’ll be safe, Mary-Lynnette was thinking. This time I won’t panic, and I’ll make sure they don’t see me. Besides, if they were going to kill me, they would have done it tonight, wouldn’t they?

  “Maybe it was Sasquatch we heard yelling,” Mark said.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Why didn’t we just kill her?” Kestrel asked.

  Rowan and Jade looked at each other. There were few things they agreed on, but one of them was definitely Kestrel.

  “First of all, we agreed not to do that here. We don’t use our powers—”

  “And we don’t feed on humans. Or kill them,” Kestrel finished the chant. “But you already used your powers tonight; you called Jade.”

  “I had to let her know what story I’d just told about Aunt Opal. Actually, I should have planned for this earlier. I should have realized that people are going to come and ask where Aunt Opal is.”

  “She’s the only one who’s asking. If we killed her—”

  “We can’t just go killing people in our new home,” Rowan said tightly. “Besides, she said she had family waiting for her. Are we going to kill all of them?”

  Kestrel shrugged.

  “We are not going to start a blood feud,” Rowan said even more tightly.

  “But what about influencing her?” Jade said. She was sitting with Tiggy in her arms, kissing the velvety black top of the kitten’s head. “Making her forget she’s suspicious—or making her think she saw Aunt Opal?”

  “That would be fine—if it were just her,” Rowan said patiently. “But it’s not. Are we going to influence everyone who comes to the house? What about people who call on the phone? What about teachers? You two are supposed to start school in a couple of weeks.”

  “Maybe we’ll just have to miss that,” Kestrel said without regret.

  Rowan was shaking her head. “We need a permanent solution. We need to find some reasonable explanation for why Aunt Opal is gone.”

  “We need to move Aunt Opal,” Kestrel said flatly. “We need to get rid of her.”

  “No, no. We might have to produce the body,” Rowan said.

  “Looking like that?”

  They began to argue about it. Jade rested her chin on Tiggy’s head and stared out the multipaned kitchen window. She was thinking about Mark Carter, who had such a gallant heart. It gave her a pleasantly forbidden thrill just to picture him. Back home there weren’t any humans wandering around free. She could never have been tempted to break Night World law and fall in love with one. But here…yes, Jade could almost imagine falling in love with Mark Carter. Just as if she were a human girl.

  She shivered deliriously. But just as she was trying to picture what human girls did when they were in love, Tiggy gave a sudden heave. He twisted out of her arms and hit the kitchen floor running. The fur on his back was up.

  Jade looked at the window again. She couldn’t see anything. But…she felt…

  She turned to her sisters. “Something was out there in the garden tonight,” she said. “And I couldn’t smell it.”

  Rowan and Kestrel were still arguing. They didn’t hear her.

  Mary-Lynnette opened her eyes and sneezed. She’d overslept. Sun was shining around the edges of her dark blue curtains.

  Get up and get to work, she told herself. But instead she lay rubbing sleep out of her eyes and trying to wake up. She was a night person, not a morning person.

  The room was large and painted twilight blue. Mary-Lynnette had stuck the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets to the ceiling herself. Taped onto the dresser mirror was a bumper sticker saying I BRAKE FOR ASTEROIDS. On the walls were a giant relief map of the moon, a poster from the Sky-Gazer’s Almanac, and photographic prints of the Pleiades, the Horsehead Nebula, and the total eclipse of 1995.

  It was Mary-Lynnette’s retreat, the place to go when people didn’t understand. She always felt safe in the night.

  She yawned and staggered to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the way. She was brushing her hair as she walked down the stairs when she heard voices from the living room.

  Claudine’s voice…and a male voice. Not Mark; weekdays he usually went to his friend Ben’s house. A stranger.

  Mary-Lynnette peeked through the kitchen. There was a guy sitting on the living room couch. She could see only the back of his head, which was ash blond. Mary-Lynnette shrugged and started to open the refrigerator, when she heard her own name.

  “Mary-Lynnette is very good friends with her,” Claudine was saying in her quick, lightly accented voice. “I remember a few years ago she helped her fix up a goat shed.”

  They’re talking about Mrs. B.!

  “Why does she keep goats? I think she told Mary-Lynnette it would help since she coul
dn’t get out that much anymore.”

  “How strange,” the guy said. He had a lazy, careless-sounding voice. “I wonder what she meant by that.”

  Mary-Lynnette, who was now peering intently through the kitchen while keeping absolutely still, saw Claudine give one of her slight, charming shrugs.

  “I suppose she meant the milk—every day she has fresh milk now. She doesn’t have to go to the store. But I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her yourself.” She laughed.

  Not going to be easy, Mary-Lynnette thought. Now, why would some strange guy be here asking questions about Mrs. B.?

  Of course. He had to be police or something. FBI. But his voice made her wonder. He sounded too young to be either, unless he was planning to infiltrate Dewitt High as a narc. Mary-Lynnette edged farther into the kitchen, getting a better view. There—she could see him in the mirror.

  Disappointment coursed through her.

  Definitely not old enough to be FBI. And much as Mary-Lynnette wanted him to be a keen-eyed, quick-witted, hard-driving detective, he wasn’t. He was only the handsomest boy she’d ever seen in her life.

  He was lanky and elegant, with long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed under the coffee table. He looked like a big amiable cat. He had clean-cut features, slightly tilted wicked eyes, and a disarming lazy grin.

  Not just lazy, Mary-Lynnette decided. Fatuous. Bland. Maybe even stupid. She wasn’t impressed by good looks unless they were the thin, brown, and interesting kind, like—well, like Jeremy Lovett for instance. Gorgeous guys—guys who looked like big ash-blond cats—didn’t have any reason to develop their minds. They were self-absorbed and vain. With IQs barely high enough to keep a seat warm.

  And this guy looked as if he couldn’t get awake or serious to save his life.

  I don’t care what he’s here for. I think I’ll go upstairs.

  It was then that the guy on the couch lifted one hand, wiggling the fingers in the air. He half-turned. Not far enough actually to look at Mary-Lynnette, but far enough to make it clear he was talking to somebody behind him. She could now see his profile in the mirror. “Hi, there.”

  “Mary-Lynnette, is that you?” Claudine called.

  “Yes.” Mary-Lynnette opened the refrigerator door and made banging noises. “Just getting some juice. Then I’m going out.”

  Her heart was beating hard—with embarrassment and annoyance. Okay, so he must have seen her in the mirror. He probably thought she was staring at him because of the way he looked. He probably had people staring at him everywhere he went. So what, big deal, go away.

  “Don’t go yet,” Claudine called. “Come out here and talk for a few minutes.”

  No. Mary-Lynnette knew it was a childish and stupid reaction, but she couldn’t help it. She banged a bottle of apricot juice against a bottle of Calistoga sparkling water.

  “Come meet Mrs. Burdock’s nephew,” Claudine called.

  Mary-Lynnette went still.

  She stood in the cold air of the refrigerator, looking sightlessly at the temperature dial in the back. Then she put the bottle of apricot juice down. She twisted a Coke out of a six-pack without seeing it.

  What nephew? I don’t remember hearing about any nephew.

  But then, she’d never heard much about Mrs. B.’s nieces either, not until they were coming out. Mrs. B. just didn’t talk about her family much.

  So he’s her nephew…that’s why he’s asking about her. But does he know? Is he in on it with those girls? Or is he after them? Or…

  Thoroughly confused, she walked into the living room.

  “Mary-Lynnette, this is Ash. He’s here to visit with his aunt and his sisters,” Claudine said. “Ash, this is Mary-Lynnette. The one who’s such good friends with your aunt.”

  Ash got up, all in one lovely, lazy motion. Just like a cat, including the stretch in the middle. “Hi.”

  He offered a hand. Mary-Lynnette touched it with fingers damp and cold from the Coke can, glanced up at his face, and said “Hi.”

  Except that it didn’t happen that way.

  It happened like this: Mary-Lynnette had her eyes on the carpet as she came in, which gave her a good view of his Nike tennis shoes and the ripped knees of his jeans. When he stood up she looked at his T-shirt, which had an obscure design—a black flower on a white background. Probably the emblem of some rock group. And then when his hand entered her field of vision, she reached for it automatically, muttering a greeting and looking up at his face just as she touched it. And—

  This was the part that was hard to describe.

  Contact.

  Something happened.

  Hey, don’t I know you?

  She didn’t. That was the thing. She didn’t know him—but she felt that she should. She also felt as if somebody had reached inside her and touched her spine with a live electric wire. It was extremely not-enjoyable. The room turned vaguely pink. Her throat swelled and she could feel her heart beating there. Also not-enjoyable. But somehow when you put it all together, it made a kind of trembly dizziness like…

  Like what she felt when she looked at the Lagoon Nebula. Or imagined galaxies gathered into clusters and superclusters, bigger and bigger, until size lost any meaning and she felt herself falling.

  She was falling now. She couldn’t see anything except his eyes. And those eyes were strange, prismlike, changing color like a star seen through heavy atmosphere. Now blue, now gold, now violet.

  Oh, take this away. Please, I don’t want it.

  “It’s so good to see a new face around here, isn’t it? We’re very boring out here by ourselves,” Claudine said, in completely normal and slightly flustered tones. Mary-Lynnette was snapped out of her trance, and she reacted as if Ash had just offered her a mongoose instead of his hand. She jumped backward, looking anywhere but at him. She had the feeling of being saved from falling down a mine shaft.

  “O-kay,” Claudine said in her cute accent. “Hmm.” She was twisting a strand of curly dark hair, something she only did when she was extremely nervous. “Maybe you guys know each other already?”

  There was a silence.

  I should say something, Mary-Lynnette thought dazedly, staring at the fieldstone fireplace. I’m acting crazy and humiliating Claudine.

  But what just happened here?

  Doesn’t matter. Worry later. She swallowed, plastered a smile on her face, and said, “So, how long are you here for?”

  Her mistake was that then she looked at him. And it all happened again. Not quite as vividly as before, maybe because she wasn’t touching him. But the electric shock feeling was the same.

  And he looked like a cat who’s had a shock. Bristling. Unhappy. Astonished. Well, at least he was awake, Mary-Lynnette thought. He and Mary-Lynnette stared at each other while the room spun and turned pink.

  “Who are you?” Mary-Lynnette said, abandoning any vestige of politeness.

  “Who are you?” he said, in just about exactly the same tone.

  They both glared.

  Claudine was making little clicking noises with her tongue and clearing away the tomato juice. Mary-Lynnette felt distantly sorry for her, but couldn’t spare her any attention. Mary-Lynnette’s whole consciousness was focused on the guy in front of her; on fighting him, on blocking him out. On getting rid of this bizarre feeling that she was one of two puzzle pieces that had just been snapped together.

  “Now, look,” she said tensely, at the precise moment that he began brusquely, “Look—”

  They both stopped and glared again. Then Mary-Lynnette managed to tear her eyes away. Something was tugging at her mind….

  “Ash,” she said, getting hold of it. “Ash. Mrs. Burdock did say something about you…about a little boy named Ash. I didn’t know she was talking about her nephew.”

  “Great-nephew,” Ash said, his voice not quite steady. “What did she say?”

  “She said that you were a bad little boy, and that you were probably going to grow up even worse.”


  “Well, she had that right,” Ash said, and his expression softened a bit—as if he were on more familiar ground.

  Mary-Lynnette’s heart was slowing. She found that if she concentrated, she could make the strange feelings recede. It helped if she looked away from Ash.

  Deep breath, she told herself. And another. Okay, now let’s get things straight. Let go of what just happened; forget all that; think about it later. What’s important now?

  What was important now was that: 1) This guy was the brother of those girls; 2) He might be in on whatever had happened to Mrs. B.; and, 3) If he wasn’t in on it, he might be able to help with some information. Such as whether his aunt had left a will, and if so, who got the family jewels.

  She glanced at Ash from the side of her eye. He definitely looked calmer. Hackles going down. Chest lifting more slowly. They were both switching gear.

  “So Rowan and Kestrel and Jade are your sisters,” she said, with all the polite nonchalance she could muster. “They seem—nice.”

  “I didn’t know you knew them,” Claudine said, and Mary-Lynnette realized her stepmother was hovering in the doorway, petite shoulder against the doorjamb, arms crossed, dish towel in hand. “I told him you hadn’t met them.”

  “Mark and I went over there yesterday,” Mary-Lynnette said. And when she said it, something flashed in Ash’s face—something there and gone before she could really analyze it. But it made her feel as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff in a cold wind.

  Why? What could be wrong with mentioning she’d met the girls?

  “You and Mark…and Mark would be—your brother?”

  “That’s right,” Claudine said from the doorway.

  “Any other brothers or sisters?”

  Mary-Lynnette blinked. “What, you’re taking a census?”

  Ash did a bad imitation of his former lazy smile. “I just like to keep track of my sisters’ friends.”

  Why? “To see if you approve or something?”

  “Actually, yes.” He did the smile again, with more success. “We’re an old-fashioned family. Very old-fashioned.”

  Mary-Lynnette’s jaw dropped. Then, all at once, she felt happy. Now she didn’t need to think about murders or pink rooms or what this guy knew. All she needed to think about was what she was going to do to him.