Playing With Fire

by C. J. Hill

  “Sorry I have to bomb your house.”

  “I understand.” Tori thought of Brindy, and a jab of pain went through her. If they moved, and their dog came back, she wouldn’t know where they went.

  She wanted to believe that Brindy would come back, that they would find her somehow. An optimistic hope at best.

  Jesse gave the window a tug, and it opened, letting in a blast of night air. “I’d stay longer, but I still have to break into Senator Ethington’s house tonight.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m installing spyware on his computer.”

  “Well, if the whole Slayer gig doesn’t pan out, you’ll have a great resume as a political saboteur.”

  He laughed, then dove through the window into the darkness.

  She stood there, watching his silhouette soar against the backdrop of the starry sky, then shut the window. She went to check on her family, reminding herself the pending explosion was for the best. Her family needed to disappear where Overdrake couldn’t find them.

  She found Aprilynne and her mother in their respective bedrooms. Her father was answering email in his den. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she sent Jesse an all-clear message. Seconds later, a sound like cannon fire blasted through the house. The security alarm went off, shrieking in protest. A haze of smoke wafted from the kitchen, setting off the smoke alarms as well.

  Her father rushed out of the den, a gun grasped in one hand. Tori had known he kept a gun in his closet safe. She hadn’t realized he also had one in his desk. He was more prepared for an attack than she’d given him credit for. As he scanned the landing, he noticed her. She was prepared to explain why she was standing about the house suspiciously: she had been on her way to talk to him. But he didn’t ask.

  He just pointed to the den. “Go. Lock the door and stay in there until the police arrive. I’ll get your mother and sister.”

  Then he hurried up the stairs. Efficient, calm, and focused.

  He really would make a good president.

  Chapter 22

  At one in the morning, Jesse was prying open Senator Ethington’s second-story window. Or trying to, anyway. It was almost impossible to get any leverage while hovering fifteen feet off the ground.

  Jesse had practiced breaking and entering at camp, but he wasn’t an expert. The only reason Dr. B had chosen him for this job was his flying ability. It gave him easy access to the den, and he wouldn’t wake anyone with the sound of footsteps.

  The window was being stubborn, though, and opening it was taking longer than he liked. He had to quell the urge to look over his shoulder to make sure none of the neighbors had come outside and noticed him.

  It was one thing to break into a regular person’s house. It was another to break into a presidential candidate’s home, especially if your parents had contributed to his campaign.

  If Jesse got caught, his mother would probably not post bail. He hoped that whatever was on Senator Ethington’s computer was worth the risk.

  Into his neck mic, he spoke to Theo. “You’re sure everything is off?”

  “The alarm system and the cameras are dead.”

  “What about motion sensors?”

  “He doesn’t have any.”

  The latch finally gave, and Jesse slid the window open. Silence. No alarm went off, at least not that he could hear. He pushed aside the curtains and glided inside. The room was dark, but Jesse didn’t have a problem making out the shapes in front of him. The monitor sat on the desk, the CPU under it.

  He floated over, turned on the computer, and inserted Theo’s flash drive into the port. Once the computer was booted up, the spyware would download in about ten seconds. When that happened, a light on the flash drive would blink twice, signaling the completed transfer. Booting up would be the longest part of the operation.

  Jesse stood completely still, listening for sounds. Half a minute went by. A faint clicking came from down the hallway. Clicking.

  And then he realized why Senator Ethington didn’t have motion detectors: he had a pet that would set them off.

  A dog. Great. They’d checked the outside for animals, but not the inside.

  Did Jesse have time to shut the door before the dog came this way? If the dog didn’t already know he was here, the noise of shutting the door might alert it.

  He glanced at the screen. The computer had to be nearly done booting up.

  A large Dalmatian paused in front of the door and sniffed the air. A moment later, it saw Jesse and let out an angry bark.

  Jesse waited, watching the flash drive. He needed just a few more seconds.

  The dog kept a wary distance, staying in the doorway, but continued barking and baring its teeth. The noise was going to wake the entire house.

  Would it be better to grab the flash drive and flee or wait it out? The dog edged closer, growling, until it was only a few feet away.

  Jesse was envisioning what his mugshot would look like, and wondered whether it would be splattered across the news, when the flash drive blinked twice. Finally.

  He grabbed it and hit the button to shut down the computer. The dog took darting steps toward Jesse. Down the hallway, a door opened.

  Done. Jesse dashed to the window, heartbeat racing. He hoped the computer would be dark before anyone entered the room. Once outside the window, he turned to close it. Footsteps were coming down the hallway, too close. He was glad for the curtains; they’d hide him while he tugged the window shut.

  The dog’s head pushed through the curtain’s opening, barking furiously and snapping his teeth. Jesse nearly smacked it with the pane while he shut the window.

  “Woodrow!” Senator Ethington snapped. He was inside the den. “Get down from there. What are you doing?”

  Going ballistic, that’s what the dog was doing. Just as Senator Ethington moved the curtain to check outside, Jesse pressed himself against the outside wall.

  The senator stood there peering across his lawn. The seconds ticked by. Jesse didn’t breathe.

  “Stupid dog,” Senator Ethington muttered. “There’s nothing out there.” The curtain fell closed again.

  The sound of the dog barking grew more distant as the senator hauled his pet away.

  Jesse peeled himself off the wall, relieved, and flew toward Dr. B’s car. He’d visited the two top presidential candidates’ houses tonight. He hoped both visits would pay off.

  Chapter 23

  Tori didn’t go to school on Tuesday. The family had been up late with the police, and then they had to pack up things and go to one of her parents’ friend’s houses. The police gave them an escort then left a patrol car to guard the place. The whole experience was surreal.

  By the time Tori got up the next morning, her parents had already found a home to rent, a six-bedroom redbrick house behind three security gates. They found the new place so quickly that Tori wondered if they’d had it as a contingency all along.

  A group of movers took their belongings from the old house, and by late afternoon, Tori was rearranging things in her bedroom. Pemberley, this time with huge white columns running up the front of the house. Tori’s room had its own hand crafted marble fireplace.

  Her parents hadn’t deemed it necessary to change schools because Veritas Academy, her private school, had strict security measures. On one hand, she was grateful she didn’t have to leave her friends. On the other hand, Overdrake knew where she went to school. He might assume she would start someplace new after the move, but it wasn’t a sure thing. She wasn’t completely out of danger.

  When she arrived on Wednesday, she was almost immediately surrounded by people wanting a play-by-play of the explosion. Everybody seemed to know about the attack. Tuesday night, Tori had texted her closest friends to tell them she was moving. Word had spread.

  As Tori got her books from her locker, a group of girls gathered around her asking about the pipe bomb.

  “Do the police have any clues who did it?”

  “No.” Tori ho
ped not, anyway.

  “Didn’t your surveillance cameras show someone breaking into your yard?”

  She shook her head. “Whoever did it was able to avoid the cameras.”

  The statement brought a lot of disbelief. “All of them?”

  “As far as the police have told us,” Tori said.

  Clint Olson swaggered up to the group. He was the President’s son, which made him the celebrity of the school—especially in his own mind. If his father hadn’t been so important, he would have been an average, and probably overlooked, type of guy. He didn’t play sports or do any extracurricular activities, and only seemed to get good grades because he was forced to. Mostly he liked traveling and name dropping.

  “Hey, Tori,” he said, making his way toward her. The girls moved for him. People always did. He put one hand on his chest. “I wanted to let you know that I wasn’t involved in the bombing of your home.”

  She got out her notebook for first period journalism. “Well, you were on the top of my list of suspects.”

  Tori’s parents could disconnect their professional lives from their personal ones and were as friendly to the President’s family as they were to members of their own political party. She’d never managed to have that kind of generosity toward Clint, though. She remembered all of the President’s political insults aimed at her dad. Clint was cut from the same cloth as his father.

  “Seriously, though,” Clint said. “If your dad is going to play with the big boys, he’s got to expect this sort of stuff. It’s all part of the game. I can’t tell you how many threats my family has gotten. When you’ve lived with it as long as I have, you learn to brush off danger.”

  Tori couldn’t help herself; she rolled her eyes. She motioned to the hallway, where not one, but two bodyguards surveyed the flow of students coming and going. “I thought you let your security detail take care of it.”

  “The physical stuff, yeah. But it’s the mind games you have to learn to handle. You’ve got to be cool under pressure.” He patted her shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture, but came off patronizing. “Don’t worry. All of this will blow over after the election when your dad goes back to being just another senator.”

  She let out an indignant cough. “Says you and what poll?”

  “About half of them,” he said.

  “Must be the half that are wrong.” The warning bell for first period rang, ending the conversation.

  “Got to go,” Clint said, and sauntered away.

  Tori glared at his back and wished she’d said something to wipe the arrogant smugness from his face. The crowd dispersed, leaving only her friend Melinda standing nearby waiting for her. The two had journalism together.

  Melinda’s dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, held together by a pencil slid through the middle. Tori would have looked slouchy with her hair done that way, but Melinda looked effortlessly pretty and even managed to make the dowdy school uniform seem perky and cute.

  “Don’t let Clint get to you,” she said. “He’s just ticked off that everyone is talking about you today instead of the Hollywood fundraiser his father spoke at last weekend. Clint has all sorts of celebrity selfies, but no one cares.”

  “I’m glad my drama has been useful for something.”

  They went down the hallway, weaving around students. Melinda shifted her books in her arms. “Oh, with all the bombing drama, you missed meeting Jonathan Richards.”

  “Who?”

  “A hot new senior moved in yesterday. He’s in our journalism class.”

  Hot new senior? Could it be Jesse? Tori quickly quashed the hope. Dr. B wouldn’t have sent him here.

  “Trust me,” Melinda went on, “he’s going to make class much more enjoyable.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we can stare at him instead of Dr. Meyerhoff.”

  Their teacher was overweight, in his sixties, and had long black hair with a bushy beard. Sort of like what Santa would look like if he dyed his hair and tried to be hipster.

  “I’m sure staring at the new guy nonstop won’t make him feel uncomfortable at all.”

  Melinda snorted. “He’s tall, buff and handsome. Those sorts of guys are used to being noticed.”

  Tori hoped not. The school already had enough egotistical guys.

  She and Melinda ambled into journalism. And there, sitting at a desk near the front of the room, was Jesse. He was talking to the girl in the next desk. Tacy, a cheerleader.

  Tori stopped walking, just stood there and gaped loose-jaw at him.

  He was here. At her school. Dr. B had sent him here. Why? Well, who cared why Dr. B had done it? Tori was just glad Jesse was here.

  Melinda nudged her. “You might be overdoing the staring part.”

  Tori moved forward then, still unable to take her eyes off of Jesse. Tacy was smiling at him, flirting as she asked for help with a math assignment. She was a little too enthusiastic about trig in a journalism class.

  The bell rang. Tori hadn’t reached her desk yet.

  “Ms. Hampton,” Dr. Meyerhoff called in his usual droll tone of voice. “We’re glad you could safely join us today. Please take your seat.”

  At her name, Jesse straightened and turned in his seat to find her. For a second, his expression held only surprise, then he smiled. One of his genuine smiles full of happiness.

  She smiled back and sat down in her desk.

  “Mark your calendars,” Dr. Meyerhoff said, talking loud enough to be heard over the shuffling of students settling in. “This coming Saturday, you’ll need to come to school to work on the newspaper layout. No excuses, folks. This is part of your journalism grade.”

  He went on about their assignments, but Tori found it hard to concentrate. Jesse was here.

  Had Dr. B forgotten that she went to school here? Doubtful. Maybe he wanted Jesse at this school because it had so much security. Or perhaps he’d sent Jesse as an extra layer of protection for her.

  Whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to complain. She used her watch to send Jesse a text.

  Why didn’t you tell me you were going to my school? Technically the watches were only supposed to be used for Slayer business, but they were both Slayers, and Dr. Meyerhoff wasn’t all that interesting.

  A few moments later, her watch vibrated on her wrist with a new message.

  I didn’t know until now. I just started liking this school a lot more.

  She wrote back: Dr. B probably sent you here to keep an eye on me.

  A couple of minutes later, Jesse sent another message. I just texted him and asked about it. He figures if you have to miss practices, I can pass on important information to you.

  Score. Missing practice had totally paid off. What about the rule that we’re not supposed to know personal details about other Slayers’ lives?

  Overdrake knows that rule, Jesse wrote back. If he ever captured you, he wouldn’t expect you to know those kinds of details about me.

  Good point. Tori sat back and tried to listen to Dr. Meyerhoff’s lecture. She wasn’t very successful. She kept getting distracted by Jesse’s broad shoulders and dark hair. It was so odd to see him, a part of her secret world, here at school among the desks and whiteboards.

  When class ended, Tori timed her exit so she was walking out with Jesse. They headed down the hallway going the same direction, Melinda and Tacy on either side of them like bookends. They wouldn’t be able to talk like they usually did.

  Jesse turned to Tori and smiled. To his credit, he looked natural, confident. “Hi. I’m Jonathan.”

  To avoid breaking his cover, she supposed it would be easier if they pretended they had no past.

  “I’m Tori. I hope you like it here.”

  “I think I will.” He smiled again, then added in a confidential tone. “My mom is the new government and world history teacher. In case you have to take one of her classes, I apologize in advance for any of her anti-Republican statements.” By way of explanation to th
ose around them, he said, “I heard you’re Senator Hampton’s daughter.”

  “I am.” Tori decided right then that she didn’t ever want to meet Jesse’s mother. The woman was bound to dislike her. She would have to see if she could get out of taking any history classes.

  Roland, a guy she’d dated a few times Sophomore year, swept over and gave her a hug. “Tori, I left you two messages. Why didn’t you call me? I was worried about you.”

  Tori pulled away as quickly as she could, aware of Jesse watching. “I turned off my phone. I was getting too many messages, and my parents wanted to spend time as a family before my dad goes on the campaign trail again.”

  Roland reached out and gave her arm a squeeze. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

  She appreciated his concern, and really it wasn’t his fault she’d met Jesse and lost all interest in the guys at school, but he didn’t seem to be getting the hint. “Thanks. I’m fine, really.” Her eyes flicked to Jesse. He was trying to keep any emotion off his face, but a trace of displeasure still made its way through. “Jonathan, this is Roland. He’s a . . .”

  What to call Roland? Friend sounded too intimate—especially the way Roland was standing there with a possessive look on his face. He’d be offended if she said, “platonic acquaintance,” but ex-boyfriend didn’t fit, either. They’d only gone out on a few dates last spring. She settled on, “Roland is a senior like you.”

  To Roland, she added, “Jonathan moved here from Maryland.”

  Crap. She’d already made a mistake. Jesse hadn’t told her in their hallway conversation where he’d moved from. For all she knew, he had a different backstory. She hoped no one noticed that detail.

  “We met yesterday.” Roland looked Jesse over the way guys summed up rivals. “The school hired your parents, didn’t they? That’s why you moved here?” Roland’s words were nice enough, but his tone had an undercurrent: he was pointing out that Jesse’s family wouldn’t have been able to afford the tuition otherwise.

  “Right,” Jesse said, also nicely, although Tori doubted he’d missed the real message.