by Amanda Ashby
“I hope you’re right,” Cassidy said as she picked up the first top again and studied it in the mirror before discarding it. Thomas wasn’t the only one who was struggling to get used to what had happened. They had discovered that as well as healing, the Black Rose could also punish, and according to the Brotherhood, Travis was now back in the year 1310. They also said that his horrific wounds were healed, but Cassidy had the feeling that his anger wouldn’t be nearly so easily cured. Nor would his sense of injustice. For a moment she longed to be able to see him and explain, but she knew it wasn’t possible. The Black Rose had sent him back there for a reason, and she just had to accept it.
Also, as her mom had taught her, every decision had a consequence, and despite how much she cared for Travis and could see how broken he was, she knew that he had crossed a line—a blood line—and he couldn’t be saved from it.
“Anyway.” Nash unfolded his long legs, smoothed out his tuxedo trousers, and adjusted his long jacket. “It’s Christmas Eve, and my parents have decided that my presence is required since they haven’t seen much of me lately. Personally, I find their sentimental attachment to traditional holidays a bit smothering, but I’d better play nice. Will you be okay if I leave you with this monstrous decision?”
“Yes, Nash. I think I will manage.” Cassidy walked him down the hallway. Once he was gone she wandered into the living room where her dad was sitting, his knee elevated and his navy eyes twinkling. The doctors still hadn’t been able to discover why he had recovered the way he had and had suggested that he stay on medication for the rest of his life, but Cassidy secretly knew that he didn’t need it.
“Why are you smiling so much?” her dad wanted to know as she sat down on the floor beside the couch and began to fiddle with the resistance band that he used for his knee exercises. “Do you think it will make me go easy on this fellow of yours?”
“You’d better,” she warned. “Because meeting parents isn’t his specialty, and this could scar him for life.”
“How many other parents do you think he intends to meet?” her dad pondered before grinning. “And don’t worry, I’ll be nice. Actually, I even think your mom will, too. She’s out in the kitchen attempting to make cookies to impress him.”
“Mom’s baking?” Cassidy lifted an eyebrow.
“Well, she’s trying to. And thanks for going easy on her. I’ve never seen her so happy.”
“I think that probably has something to do with the fact that you’re no longer in a coma,” Cassidy said before her lip began to wobble. “I am, too. It was pretty scary.”
Her dad’s grin faded, and he put a hand on her shoulder. “For all of us. And you know what was really strange? I don’t remember much, but I do remember that tattoo you got me. For a moment it felt like it was still on my arm and I could feel it tingling. Actually, I’ve even been thinking that when I’m back up and moving, I might go and get a real one in the same design. To remind me always to have hope.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Cassidy said as she traced the space on her arm where her own tattoo had been. It had disappeared the night she had freed the Black Rose, and she was already missing it. “Maybe I’ll get one, too.”
“Not on my watch you won’t,” her dad growled, and Cassidy grinned. It had been worth a try, and she was just about to see if she could at least get a visit to the vintage shop out of the deal when she caught sight of an owl sitting on the branch outside. She jumped to her feet.
The owl was no longer possessed by the spirit of a medieval demon knight, but once again just a regular bird who had taken to following Thomas around wherever it could.
“He’s here.”
“Now you’ve become a psychic?” her dad queried just as the doorbell rang. He nodded his head. “Okay, so you have become a psychic. Well, I guess you’d better go and let him in.”
Cassidy didn’t need to be asked twice, and she raced down the hallway and opened the door to see Thomas awkwardly standing there.
He was wearing the jeans that Nash had helped him buy and pulling at the woolen sweater that was covering his broad, corded muscles and chest. His red scar looked sore and angry, but the rest of his face almost looked nervous. Then Cassidy grinned as she drank in the sight of him. Besides, he had every right to be nervous. It was Christmas Eve, and he was about to meet her parents.
“Hey,” she said, but instead of answering her, he just reached out and entwined his fingers in hers before kissing her. Deeply, passionately, and enough to make her toes curl up in her Dr. Martens. Finally, he pulled away and shook his head.
“Cassidy, this is a bad idea. I cannot meet your parents. They will want to know what I can offer you, and I have nothing. The Brotherhood doesn’t pay us. It’s something we do for—”
“Duty?” Cassidy guessed as she wrapped her arms around his waist and shivered at the feel of his hard, coiled body. Then, after kissing him some more, she peered up at him. “Thomas, you once told me that you trusted me.”
“I do.” He nodded, and Cassidy felt her heart melt.
“Well, trust me when I tell you that as long as you don’t mention swords, prophecies, demon knights, and magical essences that offer eternal life to any who inhale them, then I promise you’ll be just fine. Do you think you can do that?”
For a moment he paused and kissed her again. Then he looked at her and grinned. “Oui,” he said. “I can do that.”
Turn the page to read a sample of another great book from Amanda Ashby,
one
Mia Everett was doomed. It was a fact she had known ever since Rob Ziggerman walked into biology class half an hour earlier. Instead of sitting next to her, as had been his habit for the last month, he’d made a beeline for Samantha Griffin. All of which meant the rumors must be true.
“How can this be happening?” she demanded in a low voice as she turned to Candice, who was carefully inspecting the skin of her elbow by poking it with a pencil.
“I have no idea.” Her friend shook her shoulder-length red hair in disgust as she offered up her arm for inspection. “I’m only seventeen. It hardly seems fair, but it’s definitely leprosy. No doubt about it. See the way the skin is falling away like that? Textbook case.”
“Candice, I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about how my life is about to be ruined.” Mia sunk farther down into her seat as their teacher, Mr. Haves, continued to talk in an animated voice about something bug-related. Normally Mia liked biology, but then again, she normally had Rob Ziggerman in all his blond, beautiful glory sitting next to her, so what was there not to like? “It’s important.”
“And leprosy isn’t?”
Mia gritted her teeth, once again wishing Candice wasn’t such a hypochondriac. This week it was leprosy, the week before it was some weird tapeworm that you could only get from a certain part of the Amazonian rain forest. Which, considering Candice hadn’t even left the state of California, was highly unlikely.
“What? ” Candice raised an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious. My arm could fall off by tomorrow.”
“Yes, it could. If in fact you had leprosy. All you’ve got is a bad case of dry skin.” Mia forced herself to keep her voice low. “Now, can we please start focusing on my crisis? Did you find out anything?”
“Fine.” Candice let out an exaggerated sigh and reluctantly pulled her sleeve down. “So this is what I heard. When Samantha broke up with Trent three weeks ago, she assumed that the guys would be lining up to ask her out. Unfortunately, she forgot to take into account that while she might have a hot body from doing all that cheerleading, she still has a major personality flaw—aka, she’s a total witch. Anyway, with the senior prom only four days away and still no invitation, she’s decided to focus on Rob.”
“She doesn’t have a prom date and so now she wants mine?” Mia wailed as she felt her stomach churn in a way it hadn’t done since she had first heard that Buffy was going to be canceled.
“Looks
like it,” Candice agreed in a whisper as Mr. Haves turned off the lights and started to fiddle with his laptop until a picture of a cockroach flashed up on the whiteboard.
“But that’s so unfair. Why would he take me out on six perfect dates”—well, okay, five actually, because going to watch him practice football probably didn’t count as a date in the technical sense of the word—“and then ask me to the prom, if he was going to run off with Samantha Griffin the minute she looked his way and tossed her hair? I mean, he said I was cute and that he liked the fact I wasn’t high-maintenance. He said it was refreshing.”
“He also said that Indiana was the capital of India in geography the other day,” Candice pointed out.
“Okay, so he’s not exactly a brainiac,” Mia conceded. “But unlike most of the other jocks around here, he doesn’t think he’s God’s gift to the world, either. He’s just a regular guy who is sweet and kind—”
“And has abs that would make David Beckham weep,” Candice added, and Mia found herself nodding. Yup. There was no denying that Rob Ziggerman was gorgeous. With a capital GORGEOUS. None of which was helping with the problem at hand.
“So where does this leave me?” Mia stared unhappily at the back of Rob’s head. His blond hair was styled in a sculptured mess that she longed to run her fingers through (not that she would, of course, because despite being sweet and kind, he did have a thing about his hair). Sitting as close as she could get, Samantha was leaning all over him, leaving no doubt about what her intentions were.
“With a spare prom dress?” Candice guessed before shooting her an apologetic grimace. “Look, you’ve lived across the street from Samantha for the last ten years, so you know as well as I do that what Samantha wants, Samantha gets. Just accept it and be happy you dated a football player for a few weeks.”
“Well, she’s not going to get her own way this time. No way.” Mia gave a firm shake of her head. “We just need to think of a plan. Ooh, maybe if I start using makeup and do my nails, I can beat Samantha at her own game.”
“That’s your plan?” Candice peered at her from under her mascara-free eyelashes as if to remind Mia that their makeup kits didn’t consist of much more than Clearasil and lip gloss. Then Mia glanced back to where Samantha was now laughing at something Rob had said, and she felt her resolve strengthen.
“It’s not such a dumb idea,” Mia defended. “I mean, it’s a slight problem that I don’t have a PhD in eyeliner application, but how hard can it be? Besides, I could always ask Grace to help.”
“You hate your sister,” Candice reminded her. “And more to the point, Grace hates you. Plus, she’s friends with Samantha. It’s that whole cheerleading-club thing. She would never go along with it.”
“True,” Mia reluctantly agreed as she realized no good could come from telling her fifteen-year-old, pom-pom-wielding, vacuous-Barbie-doll sister about this. “But I’ve got to do something or I’ll be the laughingstock of the school. I mean, how can I go to the prom if Rob dumps me?”
“Oh yes, how embarrassing to not have a prom date. We wouldn’t want that,” Candice bristled, and Mia found herself wincing in guilt. They’d made a pact to go to the senior prom together to prove they didn’t need guys to have fun. Though in all fairness, they’d made this decision based purely on the fact that with Candice’s ongoing medical obsession and Mia’s encyclopedic knowledge of anything Buffy- and Angel-related, neither of them had any expectations of being asked in the first place. Let alone by a guy like Rob Ziggerman.
“Candice, I didn’t mean that.” Mia shot her friend an apologetic look. “It’s just, if he hadn’t asked me, then no one would’ve cared less if I did or didn’t have a date. But now. . . ”
“But now, instead of everyone just thinking you’re that weird girl who once tried to get the school to have a Joss Whedon day, they’ll think you’re the girl Rob dumped,” Candice finished, and Mia let out a groan.
“I’ve really screwed up, haven’t I?”
“No, you haven’t,” Candice finally relented. “Your only sin was being so refreshingly adorable that Rob couldn’t resist you.”
“Thanks.” Mia shot her friend an appreciative glance and sighed. “Now if only I could figure out how to make it happen all over again.”
“Got it,” Candice suddenly whispered. “Since Rob seems incapable of taking his eyes off Samantha’s disgustingly low-cut top, we have to assume that boobs are his fatal flaw. So what about getting a push-up bra to help distract him? We could cut the next few classes and go to the mall.”
“But the senior assembly is this afternoon.” Mia looked at her friend in surprise. “That’s when the football team will be getting their awards. Rob will be there.”
“Yes, and if you don’t act soon, you’ll get to see Samantha and her thirty-six-Ds bouncing up to congratulate him afterward,” Candice said in a matter-of-fact way.
“You’re right.” Mia glanced down at her own less-than-impressive chest. “A push-up bra it is, and maybe we could also—”
“Maybe you could both pay attention?” someone suggested in a mild voice, and Mia looked up to where Mr. Haves had suddenly appeared by her side. “So, Mia, would you like to tell us what happens next?”
Mia hoped no one had heard her push-up-bra plan as she looked up at his encouraging smile. Normally, when teachers did that it was because they were evil passive-aggressive mani acs who liked to see students squirm, but Mr. Haves just genuinely seemed to like helping kids learn. Which as a rule was a good thing, just not today. She peered over to the whiteboard, where there was an amplified photo of a cockroach. Gross.
“Well?” Mr. Haves continued. “What do you think is going to happen to our friend, Periplaneta americana next?”
“Um. . . it’s going to fly away?” she guessed, and then wished she hadn’t as the sound of Samantha Griffin’s unmistakable snicker sounded out. Which was more than a little annoying since Samantha wasn’t exactly an A-plus sort of student.
“Not quite. Can anyone else tell me?” Mr. Haves looked hopefully around the class, but when no one raised a hand, he glanced in the direction of his favorite student, Chase Miller—aka the new boy. Well, he’d been at Newbury High for about six months now, but for some reason Mia had never really talked to him. Apparently he was from Boston or somewhere like that. He was tall with short light brown hair and green eyes that were set above a pair of razor-sharp cheek-bones. He also tended to keep to himself.
“The jewel wasp is going to put venom into the cockroach’s brain so it can control its mind and body, making it a brainless minion.”
Okay, and now she remembered why she never talked to him, because he was weird. After all, who in their right mind would know stuff like that?
“Excellent. Well done, Chase.” Mr. Haves clapped as he walked back to the front of the room and brought up the next photograph. “The jewel wasp will lay its eggs on the cockroach. After the eggs hatch, the larvae will feed on the roach. Then the larvae use the roach’s abdomen as the perfect living-dead incubator until the newly hatched wasps can feed on—”
Much to Mia’s relief, the rest of his words were drowned out as the bell rang, quickly followed by the sound of scraping chairs that echoed around the room.
“Can you wait for me? I won’t be long.” Mia turned to where Candice was busy studying something on her cell phone.
“Sure.” Her friend gave a vague wave of her hand without looking up and so Mia piled her books into her bag and took a moment to pat her shoulder-length brown hair into place before hurrying toward Rob. However, just before she got there, Mr. Haves appeared in front of her.
“Mia, could I have a quick word, please?”
“Oh.” She gulped as she watched Rob stride out, engrossed in something Samantha was saying, the faint smell of his cologne catching in her nose as he went. Mia realized this probably wasn’t the time or the place. “Uh, I guess so.”
“Actually, I’ll meet you outside.” Candice waved her phone
in the air. “I’ve got to make an important call. When it comes to leprosy, you’ve got to move quickly.”
“Did she just say ‘leprosy’?” Mr. Haves lifted a surprised eyebrow as he beckoned Mia to follow him to the front of the classroom.
Thanks, Candice.
“Yeah, Leprosy. They’re, uh, this great band. She wants to get concert tickets,” Mia improvised as she reluctantly headed over.
“I’ll have to listen out for them,” Mr. Haves said as he reached into his desk and pulled out a piece of paper, which bore a striking resemblance to the test she’d taken a couple of weeks ago. That was the day after Rob had asked her to the senior prom. Then he waved a second piece of paper in the air. That one looked like Friday’s test. The one she’d taken after hearing the rumors that Samantha was after Rob.
“So, about these,” Mr. Haves said as Mia studied her shoes. As she recalled, she didn’t exactly nail either of them. “I don’t need to tell you you’re one of my better students, which is why I’m concerned about these grades. Is there something going on?”
What? Like the fact that the guy she’d secretly had a crush on for four years suddenly asked her out on a date for no apparent reason? And then after five more dates, he had made her the happiest girl in the whole entire world by asking her to prom. And now he had apparently decided to get with Samantha Griffin.
“Everything’s fine. I’ve just been a bit stressed. It’s no big gie,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Haves wrinkled his eyes together and looked concerned. “Because I noticed Rob is now lab partners with Samantha. Does that have something to do with it?”
What? Why? What had he heard?
“No, of course not,” she said instead as the blood started to pound in her ears. If Mr. Haves knew about it, then there was a fair chance that the rest of the school did, as well. “And I’m sorry about the tests. I, er, had food poisoning last week.”