Moribund

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

  That shuts everyone up. Fast.

  “Why would we do that?” Nazira touches her hijab, her dark eyes serious.

  “Because you’re only going to make fools of yourselves.”

  Fiann’s kind of right—we’re super-unpracticed and the band is a hot mess—but they’re my hot mess. I stand up. “We’re not giving up anything. And…” I look around, steeling my bandmates with my confidence. “Our halftime show is going to kick your halftime show’s sorry butt.”

  Fiann blushes purple. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Minnie Maven,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. Can’t see through the Glamoury, can you, sweetie? “I’m the girl who’s going to kick your butt.” I smile, showing some fangs that she can’t see.

  She seems to get my intention, though.

  “We’ll see about that.” She sniffs and turns on her heel. “Your funeral. See you on the field, geeks!”

  I can see why Syl hates her.

  With the cheerleaders gone, the entire band turns to me.

  Great job,” Octavia says, twirling a drumstick. “We’re going to get killed out there.”

  “Yeah. Why’d you have to open your big mouth?” Marcus sits down heavily, resting his tuba in his lap. He takes out a small green fidget spinner from his pocket and starts clicking away.

  “Listen,” I say. “We’re all good. All we need is to get in sync. That’s all.”

  “And who’s going to help us do that?” Octavia won’t let up. “Mr Carmen’s out for nine weeks.”

  Chuck looks up from the keys. “Yeah, who?”

  I look at my fellow band geeks. I know Fiann and her cronies have something planned for the Thanksgiving game. Next to Homecoming, it’s got the biggest turnout—or so Syl tells me. Something also tells me Fiann and Agravaine have been laying low so they can make their move.

  Well, I’m making a move of my own.

  “Me. I’m going to teach us. And we are going to kick some cheerleader butt.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Syl

  Only through strife, fear,

  And the wonder of discovery

  Can a sleeper-princess

  Truly Awaken

  - Glamma’s Grimm

  Two weeks. It’s been two weeks, and I still can’t catch her. Seriously, I’m losing my mind. Every single time, just as I’m about to grab her, she tosses me that cheeky half-smirk and puts on a burst of speed, and bam! She leaves me in the dust.

  Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me—

  “Miss Scurry.”

  Mrs Wright’s voice cuts through my daydreaming, and the snickers and giggling of the class slam me back to reality. I realize I’ve scribbled so hard on my notebook that I’ve put the pen right through it.

  Sheepishly, I lift my hand. The pen self-destructs, and ink oozes out all over my fingers, the desk, and dribbles to the floor in split-splats.

  Rad.

  Everyone is looking at me like I’m some kind of weirdo freak. Except Mrs Wright. She’s got blue-bloody murder on her face. She has the shortest fuse of all my teachers. Ugh. Of all the classes to lose my cool…

  I glance at Euphoria, but she only gives me that sexy, teasing half-smirk that makes the butterflies in my stomach do the cha-cha. If she calls this a “learning moment,” I swear I’m going to smack her one.

  Mrs Wright slaps a red card down on my desk. “This is for you,” she says sweetly, like she’s giving me an early birthday present. “Give Principal Fee my regards.”

  Double rad. Thanks to Fiann, I’ve become one of Richmond E’s “special cases” who reports directly to the principal instead of to an administrator. Ever since I stood up to her in the paper’s HQ, she’s made it her special mission to torment me.

  Some days, I think she really can see through Glamma’s Grimmacle.

  Or maybe she’s just super-mean to everyone who doesn’t fit her idea of cool or beautiful or popular. Whatever.

  The long and short of it is she’s a huge Jerky McJerkface.

  Mrs Wright looms over me, all five-foot-one of her. “Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

  “I know, I know.” I sigh and shove up from my desk. “Go directly to the principal’s office. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

  “Now, Miss Scurry.”

  I grab the card and crumple it without realizing my strength. More giggles and chuckling erupt from the kids around me. Game face, Syl. I breathe out and loosen my grip. Euphoria’s been teaching me control, but when I get upset or excited or afraid, I still kind of lose it a little.

  Becoming new Syl is a whole lotta work, I tell ya.

  Euphoria gives me an encouraging nod from the back of the class, and I take some comfort in that.

  And at least Mom can’t ground me for this when I get home. I mean, I’m a sleeper-princess. I should totally be above grounding, right?

  God, I hope so.

  Mom’s pretty much a stickler for rules. And she carries a gun, so…it’s anybody’s game.

  I slip into the empty hallway and drag my sorry butt in the direction of Fee’s office. With the next breath, I blow out the last of my whining. Glamma’s counting on me. All my friends are counting on me. Euphoria’s counting on me. Suck it up, buttercup.

  I’ll go to Fee’s office and take whatever punishment—detention, in-school suspension, I’ll write “I will not crush my pen until it explodes like a pimple” on the board a thousand times. Whatever. None of that matters, really.

  What matters is that I master my powers so Euphoria and I can beat the stuffing out of Fiann and Agravaine. Easier said than done.

  I’ve been kind of…sucking. And they’ve been super-secretive and hard to pin down.

  It’s like they’re laying low because we’re laying low. I almost want to break the Grimmacle and just have everything out in the open. All this sneaking around is killing my nerves… Euphoria acts like it’s all cool, but I can sense something else going on with her—something tense between us when I chase her, when I almost catch her.

  It’s like…she wants to be caught, and yet she’s afraid.

  Of what, me? She’s a kickass dark Fae. I don’t think she’s afraid of anythi—

  A flash of blonde ponytail catches my eye as I round the corner.

  Fiann!

  I duck back around the corner and peer around in time to see the side door closing. She’s just going out for an illegal smoke break. Relax.

  But something tells me that’s not it.

  Fiann’s alone, and that’s weird. If she wanted to smoke, she’d make sure a dozen girls saw her doing it. Since that’s “totally cool” and all…

  My heart pounding hard, I tiptoe to the door. Just as I’m about to crack it open, I hear voices from the other side.

  Crap! I look for any kind of escape. The girls’ room!

  I duck in and run into a stall. My heart is pounding. Holy cats, holy cats, holy cats. I’m freaking, but adrenaline is giving me a crazy rush. I do that thing where you close the door and stand on the toilet. It always works in movies, right?

  And I am determined to be the final girl in this picture.

  The click-clack of Fiann’s heels—the ones she’s not supposed to wear because, hello…dress code—are followed by the heavy clomp-clomp of motorcycle boots.

  My heart jumps into my throat. Agravaine?

  “What’s our progress, Fi?” His deep baritone leaves no doubt.

  There’s crack between the stall’s side and the door. Through it, I see a sliver of Fiann lounging against the sinks. She bends her blonde head and, with a popping flare of her lighter, lights a cigarette.

  Smoke fills the air. Gross. I put my hand over my nose and mouth and try not to make a sound.

  “It’s done. Daddy’s all filled up with circuits.”

  A chill crawls down my spine. Principal Fee…her own father? I remember that creepy look on her face at the Nanci—that night Agravaine sent Euphoria after me, the n
ight the hell-hounds attacked.

  The night Fiann totally lost her mind.

  I peer through the crack. Yup. My Fae-sight picks up the heavy indigo aura wafting around her like a nightmare shroud, and she’s got this insane-o light in those green eyes. Oh, yeah. She’s gone around the bend, crazypants, a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

  Agravaine plucks the cigarette from her lips. “And the trolley restoration?”

  Restoration? I rack my brain. It doesn’t make sense. Yeah, the old trolley tracks from the 1940s are being dug up, repaired, and restored all around Richmond, as part of some citywide historical restoration plan. But what does that have to do with anything?

  I thought the Fae didn’t like iron.

  “It’s on schedule to be done before the Winter Formal. Just like you wanted.” Fiann eyes him as he turns the cigarette over in his fingers.

  What are they up to? Are they trying to create a circle of protection like Glamma did for me? But what for? Hmmm… Euphoria mentioned something about the Winter Formal being on the same night as the winter solstice, the night dark Fae power is at its strongest. I’m betting this trolley thing ties into that somehow…

  “Give me my cigarette.” Fiann tosses her ponytail, but Agravaine flicks the butt into the sink. Clearly, he’s not having any of her flirty crap.

  Fiann’s pretty face turns an interesting shade of purple, but she only takes another cig out of her pack, lights up, and blows smoke in his face. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

  A dark chuckle rumbles from his throat. “Make sure the restoration stays on target.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Fiann flicks ashes into the sink and takes another drag. “Daddy’s got the mayor wrapped around his little finger. Those black-magic circuits don’t hurt, either.”

  “Good. Now we only have one more problem.” Agravaine’s deep baritone rumble seems to suck all the air out the room.

  He turns and meets my gaze through the door.

  Oh, this is so not good.

  “Perfect,” Fiann is rattling on. “The trolley should be fully up and running all around the city by the time we’re picking dresses for the Winter Formal, and—”

  “We’re not alone.”

  My blood freezes, and my fight-or-flight response kicks up to DEFCON 1.

  Fiann follows his gaze, and her eyes meet mine through the crack in the door.

  Crappity, crap, crap, crap. “What in the holy hell?” In two strides, she’s at the door. She yanks it open. “You!”

  “Me.” I wave. “Hi.”

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “Ummm…peeing?”

  She gives me the stink eye. “Get your butt out here.”

  I step out of the stall. Out of the frying pan and into the fryer.

  Agravaine looks at me curiously. The Grimmacle is holding. Thank you, God, Buddha, and all you cosmic nice guys.

  I stare back at him. “You know you’re in the girls’ bathroom, right?”

  He only shrugs, that arrogant, amused look on his face, but Fiann nearly loses her mind. “She knows. She heard, Agravaine.”

  “So?” He smirks at her, the way a shark smirks at his supper. Then he turns that super-intense look my way, and my Fae-sight blurs as his aura grows deeper, darker, stretching out like a shadow over me.

  Ruh-roh. What is he doing? I see his Glamoury falling over me, shrouding me.

  It does…nothing.

  He speaks with some serious intent, and I recognize the tone he used to Command Euphoria. “You’ll forget what you heard here today. You’ll go back to class and forget.”

  Ummm…no, I won’t. But I can’t really say that, so I pull from all those vampire teen-angst shows that Euphoria likes to watch late at night when she thinks I’m asleep. I speak in a monotone, like I’m totally under his spell or whatever. “I’ll go back to class and forget what I heard here today.”

  I hold my breath.

  “Good.”

  He buys it. Idiot.

  Fiann breathes out. “Whoa. Can you do that…to anyone? Make anyone do what you want?”

  I look blankly back and forth between them, faking that I’m under his control.

  “Yes. Why?” He looks suspiciously at her.

  An evil smirk comes over her face. “Tell her to come to my Halloween party tonight. And bring her girlfriend.”

  Euphoria? But no, with the Grimmacle shielding us, Fiann can’t know Euphoria’s actually Euphoria. What could Fiann want with Minnie?

  Agravaine gives me the order, and I repeat it like an automaton. I feel like a complete tool, but they swallow it hook, line, and sinker.

  They let me go, and I wander out and back to class like I’ve been “ordered.” I’ll get another red card the second I walk in, but it’s worth it to sell the drama.

  I can’t wait to tell Euphoria. We’re going to a Halloween party.

  “Why are we doing this again?” Euphoria grumbles, lying across my bed with an arm thrown over her eyes. Her legs are so long they hang off the end. “I can’t believe I have to go to a high school Halloween party.”

  “You’re in high school, you dork,” I tease, but she only groans some more. “Don’t let your broody emo-ness suck all the fun out of it.”

  “I thought you liked my broody emo-ness.” She gives me the raised eyebrow and that sexy half-smirk. “Isn’t that why you have my band poster on your wall?”

  Note to self: take that incriminating thing down. Just as soon as I can breathe. Our snarky tease-flirting has my poor heart racing like a rabbit. There’s been a lot of that witty banter between us since she started training me.

  It’s been part flirty and all tough love. But even when she’s being tough, I can see the concern in her blue eyes. And the heat between us is off the charts. I let out a breath. Get a grip, Syl.

  I’ve already told Euphoria about the trolley restoration/Winter Formal/winter solstice connection, but we’re still racking our brains to figure out their endgame. “Anyway, Fiann’s planning something for tonight.” I go to my closet and start rifling through to see what I have for costumes.

  “Tonight is Samhain.” Euphoria pronounces it kinda like sow-hen.

  I dig deeper into my closet, my voice muffled. “I remember that from Glamma’s old stories. Samhain, the Irish feast of the dead, when the year turns from summer to winter.” I pull out an old Red Queen costume, then thrust it back. Nah.

  Euphoria watches me. “Fae power is tied to the seasons—the fair Fae to summer and the dark Fae to winter. So at midnight on Samhain, tonight, when summer gives way to winter, the power of Faerie will shift to favoring the dark Fae over the fair Fae.” Her tone is thoughtful, calculating. “Considering the trolley restoration’s on track for completion by the winter solstice…”

  I catch her eye. “Seems like Agravaine and Fiann might be waiting for a night of power. But why not tonight?”

  Euphoria cocks her head, thinking. “The power shifts to the dark Fae tonight, but it might not be enough.”

  “The winter solstice-slash-Winter Formal, then?”

  She meets my gaze fully. “Bingo.” Her blue eyes are super intense.

  I feel a blush crawling up my neck to my cheeks. Keep your head in the game, Syl. “First, we’ve gotta get through tonight.”

  “Agreed.” She bites her bottom lip, and I nearly pass out from all the sexy.

  I turn back to my closet. “Tonight, Fiann’ll probably have Agravaine try to mind-zap you like he did to me.” I press an old cheerleading outfit to my body. Ugh. No.

  I look her in the eye. “Why wasn’t he able to use his mind-wooj on me?”

  “You’re immune to personal gramarye. Mine, his…everyone’s.” She pulls the arm from her face and meets my gaze, all seriouslike. “You’re the strongest sleeper-princess I’ve ever seen.”

  I blush. I love it when she gets all intense like that, but sometimes it’s too intense. “What about you?”

  Her ey
es lose some of that fire. “It’s different. I’m bound to him. If he Commands me—even without knowing I’m really Rouen—I’ll have to do his bidding.”

  “Can you fight it like you did last time?”

  Euphoria raises an eyebrow, and I can tell from her look it’s like I just asked, Oh hey, can you lift that eighteen-wheeler in an adrenal-fueled feat of superhuman strength, and can you, like, eat a cheeseburger and juggle a chainsaw while doing it?

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  It’s quiet between us, and I throw the cheerleading outfit aside. “Maybe we shouldn’t go. It’s too late to find costumes, anyway.” I try to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  I know it’s dumb, but I kind of wanted to show up at Fiann’s party—show up and show off a little, prove to her she doesn’t scare me or Susan Scurry.

  The bed squeaks as Euphoria gets up. She comes over to me, and I see our reflections in the mirror, how well she complements me—her bronze skin and sapphire-blue eyes, my pale skin and red hair.

  We’re like night and day. I like it.

  “You don’t need a costume,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders. “You can make your own.”

  “How?” I meet her gaze in the mirror, so heated I think I’m going to burn up right here.

  She leans in, her breath warm on my ear. “With your personal Glamoury.”

  “But I don’t have that. Only Fae—”

  “You are,” she says, and a flicker of pain goes through her blue eyes. “You’re a fair Fae, Syl, and you’ll soon be fully Awakened.”

  Oh. There’s that. “Aren’t…?” The question catches in my throat, but I ask it anyway. “Aren’t the fair Fae and the dark Fae enemies?”

  “Yes,” she says quietly, and that pain in her eyes intensifies. “The Summer Court has long been at war with the Winter Court.”

  I turn to face her. “So…will we—?”

  Her finger touches my lips, and all thought, all breath goes out of me at that soft caress. I look into her eyes, lose myself in them.

  “Let me show you.” She steps back and breathes out. With her breath, her appearance changes. She becomes shorter, blonde, then taller and red-haired, with ebony skin. She gestures, and her leathers vanish into a ball gown. She turns, and the ball gown becomes a pair of jeans and a ragged concert tee.