Seizure:

by Kathy Reichs

  Then a familiar scent drifted my way.

  Beneath the Dior perfume and La Mer body lotion, Madison emitted the aroma of nervousness.

  Outwardly, she looked relaxed. But my enhanced vision noted her tense muscles, saw the tightness to her jaw. The vein in her neck was pumping mile-a-minute.

  The confident pose was an act. Madison Dunkle was wound tighter than a snare drum.

  “You’re out of your depth, Tory.” Madison pitched her voice to carry. “And not just here. Bolton Prep is far too prestigious to accept riffraff out of misguided pity.”

  “Pity?” My face was burning, but I kept my tone calm.

  Ashley laughed. “Everyone knows you can’t afford the tuition. They only let your pathetic group attend because some lame administrator needed a good deed for PR.”

  “But we’re the ones who suffer.” Madison shook her head in solemn distress. “Deserving students, forced to share classrooms with a band of island hicks. It’s a wonder we learn anything at all.”

  Enough. Chance said to attack? Done and done.

  “I’m not deserving?” I rolled my eyes. “Last I checked, I outscored you in every class we shared. You know, the sophomore courses I took as a freshman?”

  Madison’s eyes widened. She covered her anxiety with a smirk, but the nervous smell ripened.

  I didn’t let up. “Unlike you, I bust my ass every day. That’s why I’m a Bolton Scholar and you’re not. We’ll both be taking the AP schedule next year. If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll agree to tutor you.”

  Madison’s smirk wavered. Another scent flooded my nose.

  Embarrassment.

  I’d hit a nerve.

  The answer dawned on me.

  “You were accepted into the AP program, right?” My face was the model of sincerity. “I know you applied.”

  Madison stiffened. “You don’t know anything.”

  My nose told me otherwise.

  “Wow.” I shook my head. “Awkward. That’s not going to help those college applications. But maybe your parents’ money can buy you in somewhere.”

  Snickers, hastily covered by hands. But the target was different this time. Eyes had shifted to Madison.

  She started to speak, but I cut her off.

  “Honestly, it’s pathetic how you continually follow me around. Don’t you have anything else to do? Get a freaking hobby.”

  The snickers became chuckles. Fickle as ever, the crowd had turned. Watching Madison squirm was even better entertainment.

  “We do not follow you,” Ashley snapped. “You’re a loser!”

  “Could’ve fooled me. Everywhere I go, you guys trail along like lost puppies. When I look out my bedroom window, I expect to see you three rooting through my trash.”

  “Hold on!” Courtney looked stunned. “You can’t talk to us like this!”

  “I’m sorry, are my words too big for you? Need make more simple?”

  Laughter swelled. I was on a roll. Why had I ever let these bimbos get to me?

  “You’re a nobody.” Madison’s cheeks were scarlet. “Not one person here wants to see your face again.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Maddy. I’ll be fine. If people dislike me for no reason, that’s their problem.”

  Game. Set. Match. Ashley whispered into Madison’s ear. I overheard easily.

  “She’s making you look stupid. And Jason’s coming back.”

  Embarrassment overpowered all Madison’s other scents. She’d also started to sweat. Surprisingly, I hadn’t.

  I stood calmly, waiting for her to lob me the next volley.

  Madison licked her lips, desperate for a clever exit line.

  “Yes?” I tipped my head. “Some final witty comment before you run along?”

  “You’re the one who needs … witty comments. Bitch.”

  “Brilliant.” I nodded in appreciation. “Well played.”

  Cackles sounded from all sides.

  Madison elbowed through the encircling debs and their dates, not bothering to hide her fury. Ashley and Courtney scurried in her wake.

  The crowd fragmented into smaller groups to rehash the showdown. Eyes darted in my direction, a few carrying respect.

  Suddenly, I felt exhausted.

  Almost no sleep and nothing to eat. Still flaring. I stared longingly at the buffet, but the Tripod had stormed in that direction. No way would I reenter their orbit.

  I needed a moment alone. Careful to maintain my composure, I slipped into the clubhouse and found the ladies room.

  I was splashing water on my face when the Tripod walked in.

  Ashley and Courtney blocked the door. Madison stormed to me, seething.

  Keeping my eyes lowered, I reached for a towel, dried my face, then shoved my shades into place.

  “No one talks to me like that!” Madison radiated indignation. “Especially not some poser charity case from the sticks!”

  I looked at her, no longer scared in the slightest.

  “Excuse me.” Calm. “You’re in my way.”

  “So?” Madison sneered. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “If you don’t move?”

  “Yeah.”

  I closed the gap until we stood nose to nose. “I’ll knock you on your spoiled little ass.”

  I heard Madison’s heart pound. Saw her hands tremble. Smelled sweat on her skin.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” A quiver in her voice betrayed the bravado.

  “Try me,” I said.

  My hand rose, causing her to flinch.

  Leaning close, I raised my glasses and drilled her with my glowing, golden irises.

  “Boo.”

  Madison yelped, then fled in panic. Ashley and Courtney glanced at me, puzzled, before rushing after their queen bee.

  “Bye ladies!” I called. “Have a good one!”

  The feeling of triumph was short-lived.

  Ohmygod!

  My stomach churned as I realized the magnitude of my mistake.

  Madison saw my eyes.

  “Stupid stupid stupid!” I said to the empty bathroom.

  I squeezed my lids shut, wishing I could undo the last five minutes.

  SNUP.

  My head spun.

  The room wobbled.

  I ran to a stall and vomited into the toilet.

  Then I lowered the seat, dropped, and berated myself. I’d committed a terrible blunder.

  Go home. Worry later.

  Legs shaking, I stood, straightened my dress, washed out my mouth, and exited the bathroom.

  Jason was waiting outside the door.

  “Tory, are you—”

  “I’m not feeling great. I’m heading home.”

  “I saw what happened.” Jason wore an astonished smile. “I don’t know who that Tory was, but she’s a badass!”

  “All I did was stoop to their level.”

  “Not true! You had every right to stick up for yourself.”

  Not wanting to argue, I simply nodded.

  “Anyway, I heard you’re moving into this year’s cohort.”

  “What? Who told you that?” Goddamn Whitney!

  “My mother, a few minutes ago. If that’s true, you’re going to need an escort. I just so happen to be available.”

  My disgust for the whole scene boiled over. Suddenly it was all too much. Madison. Whitney. My own loss of control.

  Jason was closest, so he took the hit.

  “Why would I choose you?” I snapped. “So you can disappear when someone attacks me?”

  Jason recoiled in surprise. “I didn’t know! That crazy woman had me hauling—”

  My hand shot up, cutting him short.

  Too much for one day.

  Too many boys in my life.

  “I have to go.”

  Before Jason could respond, I rushed out the door.

  “YOU’RE SURE EVERYTHING’S okay?”

  Kit stood in the kitchen, a concerned look on his face. “I’m supposed to meet Whitney for a m
ovie, but I could cancel.”

  “I’m fine.” Rattled or not, I couldn’t waste an opportunity. Kit being gone freed my entire evening.

  He seemed unconvinced. “Do you want to talk about last night? I know you were upset. I could hear you muttering in your room.”

  “Kit, I’m okay. Just let me process for a while.”

  “That I can do.” Goofy smile. “Gather your thoughts. That way you can yell at me with more focus.”

  “Exactly. I should write down all the ways you’re a doofus.”

  “Excellent plan.”

  Kit grabbed his workbag and headed down to the garage.

  I was dialing before the door closed.

  My living room was divided into uneasy camps.

  Chance and I were on one side. Ben, Hi, and Shelton formed the opposition.

  The mood was distinctly chilly.

  I wanted to tell the Virals about my mistake with Madison, but Chance’s presence made that impossible. I’d wait until we were alone.

  “We’re supposed to trust this whack job?” Ben refused to address Chance directly.

  “We’re talking in circles,” I said. “He can take us to the cross.”

  “And I will.” Chance leaned forward. “But first tell me what’s going on. Why did you risk breaking me out?”

  “Not part of the deal.” Hi folded his arms. “We sprang you in exchange for the cross. You’re not entitled to our life stories.”

  Chance was undeterred. “Why do you want it? You saw the auction listing. The cross isn’t particularly valuable.”

  “Our business,” Shelton said. “Just take us to your father’s fishing camp.”

  “No.” Chance calmly intertwined his fingers. “If I have to take you somewhere the authorities might look for me, I want to know more.”

  “You don’t get to dictate new terms,” Ben said. “Tell us where. Now.”

  “You think you can force me, boy?”

  Ben fired to his feet.

  “Wait!” I shouted. “Everyone chill. Let me think.”

  Seconds of tense silence.

  “How about this?” I turned to Chance. “Take us to your father’s fishing camp. Produce the cross. Then we’ll tell you what’s going on.”

  Shelton tsked. “We don’t have to—”

  “He’s not going to help us otherwise.”

  Chance nodded his head as he weighed options. “Agreed.”

  Shelton puffed air through his lips. Ben stormed from the room cursing under his breath. Only Hi seemed satisfied.

  Whatever. Under the circumstances, it was the best I could do.

  “It’s settled,” I said. “So. Car or boat?”

  Chance answered without hesitation. “Boat.”

  Ben eased Sewee from the dock. “Well?”

  Chance pointed north. “Sullivan’s Island.”

  “At least it’s close,” Hi said. “We could practically swim.”

  Hi’s joke did nothing to ease the tension. Ben barely held his temper in check, and Chance seemed to enjoy goading him. It was a recipe for trouble.

  Ben motored across the harbor mouth, passing the tiny island of Fort Sumter, site of the opening shots of the Civil War. The sun was setting. Sullivan’s Island lay dead ahead.

  “Head west past Fort Moultrie,” Chance instructed. “Then swing into The Cove. The camp is five hundred yards up the waterway.”

  Sullivan’s Island is largely residential. No hotels, waterslides,or mini-golf. The lots are big and so are the homes. The coastline is surprisingly undeveloped, with much of it held in trust by the town itself. Much like Morris, the island has a rich military history, and many dwellings are old fortifications or barracks converted to modern use.

  “There.” Chance pointed to a wooden pier jutting from the shoreline into the sheltered bay. “The cabin is back in those trees.”

  “This is the ‘fishing camp’ you’ve been talking about?” Hi employed air quotes. “That’s a million-dollar house, easy.”

  “I never claimed it was a canvas tent. We Claybournes like our comfort.”

  Chance jumped to the dock and tied the bowline to a heavy metal cleat. “Come along.”

  The dock bridged an acre of shallow, brackish water before entering a two-story boathouse. Inside, small watercraft occupied alcoves on each side, several accessible only by hydraulic lifts.

  Chance crossed to a Jet Ski, dug a key from under the seat, then strode from the shed’s rear door into the yard beyond.

  A gravel path wound up to a large log cabin. Chance unlocked the door and stepped back, gesturing us inside with a bow. “Make yourselves at home.”

  We trooped through a gourmet kitchen into a massive great room. Chance walked a circuit, powering an array of antique lamps.

  An enormous brick fireplace took up most of one wall, the mantel carved with the foxes-and-vines motif of the Claybourne family crest. Stuffed birds, rodents, and other small mammals crowded every inch. Leather couches faced the giant hearth, surrounding a rustic wagon-wheel coffee table. Deer heads stared glassy-eyed from all four walls.

  “Who decorated this place?” Hi said. “The Crocodile Hunter?”

  “Has a woman ever set foot in here?” I asked.

  “Only the cleaning lady,” Chance said. “Hollis kept his clubhouse private.”

  Shelton and Hi flopped onto a couch and began checking their iPhones.

  Ben stepped face-to-face with Chance. “The cross.”

  Chance smirked, about to argue for the sport of it.

  “We had a deal.” I shot Chance a warning look.

  Chance sighed dramatically, then pointed to an antique safe in one corner.

  The safe was a black cast-iron cube the size of a washing machine. Stamped with the official seal of the United States Postal Service, the thing must’ve weighed a thousand pounds.

  “It’s a collector’s item.” Chance rapped the side with his knuckles. “Constructed in 1880. My father’s servants store valuables inside when closing the cabin for the season.”

  Chance moved backward.

  Ben stopped him with an outstretched hand. “Combination?”

  Chance shrugged free. “I’m not divulging family secrets. Step away.”

  Ben and I complied. Hunching his back to block our view, Chance spun the dial. Forward. Back. Forward. Then he twisted the handle and pulled.

  The door didn’t budge.

  A look of surprise crossed Chance’s face. He tried the combination a second time. No luck. The surprise morphed to irritation. Chance turned the dial a third time, slowly, making sure to align the numbers exactly.

  The door refused to yield.

  “What the hell?” Chance kicked the safe in frustration. “It won’t open.”

  “Problem?” Shelton asked.

  “The combination isn’t working,” Chance said. “8-16-24. Try it yourself.”

  Shelton knelt before the safe. Three attempts produced the same result.

  “The mechanism seems okay.” Shelton scratched his head. “Either the combination was changed, or you’ve got the numbers wrong.”

  “I don’t have them wrong,” Chance snapped. “It’s multiples of eight.”

  “Then we’re sunk.” Shelton almost sounded relieved.

  My mind raced, but couldn’t devise a way into a locked safe. We’d have to try something else.

  Hi caught my attention, tipped his head toward the kitchen door.

  I took the hint. “Is there anything to drink in this house?”

  “Try the refrigerator.” Chance was focused on the safe and didn’t bother to look up. “But I’d check expiration dates if I were you.”

  Hi followed me. We huddled and spoke quickly.

  “My grandfather had a safe just like that,” Hi said.

  “Could you crack it?”

  “I know how it works. The locking mechanism consists of three notched discs that hold the bolt in place. The door opens when the correct combination aligns the not
ches, allowing the bolt to slide free.”

  “How is that useful?”

  “Just listen! If you rotate the knob three hundred and sixty degrees, you’ll hit the first correct number at some point. When you do, the bolt will tap the notch on the first disc.”

  “So?”

  “That contact makes a soft click, usually inaudible to human ears.”

  “Oh.” I saw where Hi was going.

  Hi swept on. “Center the dial back to zero, then work left until you hear a second click. Jog a little farther left, and then repeat to find the last digit. Boom! Three. Done.”

  “Will the clicks occur in the correct order?”

  “Not necessarily. But when you have all three numbers, you can test different sequences until the right one opens the safe.”

  “You’re a genius!” I said excitedly. “Did you bring your shades?”

  “Not me. I’d soil myself if I flared in front of Chance.” Hi squeezed both my shoulders. “But you, my dear, have experience with such adventures.”

  “Fabulous.”

  I REENTERED THE room carrying a glass of water. Hi trailed stiffly behind me.

  Ben was standing by the fireplace, while Chance and Shelton knelt on the floor by the safe.

  Chance noticed me first. “Nice shades. Trying to keep up with the Kardashians?”

  Ben and Shelton tensed. Realizing.

  “Headache.” I saw Chance in razor-sharp detail, could make out a single bead of perspiration on his left temple. “I’m very light sensitive.”

  “Let’s search the house,” Hi said too loudly. “If someone changed the combination, maybe they wrote it down.”

  “And left it lying around?” Chance scoffed. “That’d be incredibly stupid.”

  “It’s worth a look.” Shelton hopped to his feet.

  “Okay.” Ben was looking at Hi, but his words were directed at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do.” Hi over-nodded. “Trust me.”

  “You guys are way too serious,” Chance said. “I’ll check the master bedroom.”

  “I’ll hang here.” I tried to sound spur-of-the-moment, but I’m the worst actress on earth. “Maybe try my luck with the safe.”

  “Don’t waste your time,” Chance said. “That demon isn’t opening without dynamite.”