Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

I made the thin man back off. It’ll take more than you to frighten me. That was bravado, but it kept my feet planted.

“I don’t think so. You’re done here. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll find a way to make you pay.” That was a bluff; since I had no idea what the hell he was, I didn’t know how to punish him.

He rushed me. It never occurred to me to fear a physical attack, but he swung at my head and in reflex, I threw up my left arm to block. Red light sparked from the kanji brand on my wrist, flinging him halfway across the room. Mr. Love landed hard and whacked his head against the desk. In a normal human, that might’ve been enough to kill him, but he staggered to his feet, cracked his neck in a grotesque fashion, popping the broken column back into place and rolling his shoulders. But he didn’t come at me again.

Instead he studied me with an expression of growing delight. “Ah. So you’re what drew me here, little queen.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t feign ignorance, it doesn’t suit you.” His gaze lingered on my mark, the one that meant Property of the Game. “Do you suspect what lies ahead? I wonder.”

“Are you part of the opposition?”

He laughed, a rumbling sound like thunder. “Not all of us choose to play. Some of us prefer to watch … and make wagers. I think I’ll bet on how long you’ll live.”

“Are you related to Allison somehow?”

He shook his head. “But you know that already. Testing me?”

“What are you?”

“Your kind dreamed of me, so I came. I’ll let you work it out.” He strolled past, whistling, so cheerful I resisted the urge to throw something at his back. At the doorway he paused to add, “When I don’t return, don’t imagine it has anything to do with you. Instead, rest assured that I got what I came for.”

Since I’d be crazy to take him at his word, I followed Mr. Love out of the building. The halls were deserted, just the click of our shoes. He looked so normal in his overcoat, briefcase in one hand; I might never believe what my eyes told me again. The immortal—whatever he was—headed for the front gate without looking back. His shoes tapped briskly against the walkway and I rushed after him.

Overhead, the sky was gray with threatening rain. Fat droplets spattered my face, and though I looked away only for a second, when I checked the front gate again, he was gone. There was only a huge black bird wheeling lazily above the trees. With bright, beady eyes, it dove toward me, claws outstretched, and I swung at it with my bag. Its raucous cry sounded almost like laughter.

“Well, that was donked up,” Davina called, running up to me. “Was that crow rabid? I swear, this school gets weirder by the day, and my mom will have a shit fit when she finds out about Nicole. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t homeschool me.”

“Maybe that would be safer.”

“Can’t argue.” She proffered a red umbrella.

As I stepped under the brim with her, the clouds opened up, spattering my bare legs and soaking my shoes and socks. That fast, it was pouring rain with the wind carrying it along in slanted sheets.

Davina shivered. “Man, I hate November. You want to come over for a while? We can study together.”

“If my mom says it’s okay.” It was hard to stay close enough to her not to get drenched while making the call, but I managed, and by the time we got to the station, I had permission to hang out until five.

On the train, she didn’t say much, but that was a defense mechanism, (best not to attract attention.

You never knew when pervs would take accidental eye contact as encouragement—and since we were both young and pretty, the danger was twofold.

Afterward, as we walked to her building, the rain slowed enough for it not to be miserable. Davina led the way and unlocked her front door; nobody was home, which explained why she’d wanted me to come. After the crap at school, I wasn’t on board with cozying up to my own thoughts, either.

She dumped her backpack by the door, and headed for the kitchen. “I can make tea or hot chocolate, the powder packet kind.”

“I’m sensing you want a warm beverage.”

“Hot chocolate,” she decided.

The kettle took five minutes to whistle, then we mixed the instant chocolate and added marshmallows. Davina’s place was warm and inviting, full of crafty things like handmade pillows and throws. It was obvious that she didn’t come from money, but I felt more at home here than in Jen’s ultramodern mansion. Once we finished our drinks, she beckoned me to her bedroom and shut the door behind us.

“I might be a little slow, but I’m pretty sure I’ve put the pieces together.”

“We’re not studying?” Whatever she thought she knew, it wouldn’t be good.

“You were in full meltdown when we left Cameron’s party. Then, a few days later, we find out that nobody’s seen him since that night. What did you see, Edie?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Call me paranoid, but not until I checked something. “Let me see your belly button.”

Davina raised a brow, but she pushed up her shirt to reveal an innie. “Is this like reading tea leaves or something?”

I released a nervous chuckle. What the hell. So I filled her in, explaing how Nicole attached Allison, the cut sealed over, and she had no navel—then Mr. Love went nuts on me. I pretended to have no idea how these events related. For her safety, I left out everything related to the game; I was afraid too much information might make her a target, and I only had one favor left. There was no way I could protect everyone as I had Vi, much to my dismay.

“This shit is full-on crazy,” she said finally. “You mentioned you thought Mr. Love was shady, but this—”

“I know .”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but can I see your belly button?”

I giggled as I showed it to her, and the situation didn’t seem as grim if we could laugh. Though I couldn’t give her the big picture, the conversation cheered me up. We didn’t come up with any solutions, but I felt less alone. At quarter past four I got up to leave.

“You know I’ve got your back at school, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow, unless the place burns down. Which wouldn’t surprise me.”

I hurried down the sidewalk, trying to get to the station before the rain started up again. If anything, it was darker than it had been, a worse storm on the horizon. There was scant foot traffic in Davina’s neighborhood on the six-block walk to the T station. A few birds nestled on ledges of buildings; even more perched on the wires and they stared as I quickened my pace. Maybe I was imagining it, but they turned their heads almost all the way around, just watching.

I ran the rest of the way.

On the train, it was better, until I noticed the shadows following the car, tendrils of darkness slinking along the block walls. Each time we left a station, they swelled and drew closer, only to be driven back by the bright crackle of fluorescent lighting at the next stop. I hopped off a little sooner than I should have. Rain or no, I’d walk home from here.

The lull in the weather held just long enough for me to get to my street, then the sky dumped buckets on me, not just stinging rain but hail, too. Ice pelted me, raising red welts on my skin, and I was panting when I got to the front stoop. Shoving through to the foyer, I almost ran into Mr. Lewis, who was inexplicably carrying a hammer. He said something about a horseshoe and wind chimes.

“What?”

“I can’t find one,” he told me. “An old one is best, one that’s grown rusty and strong over the years. I put up wind chimes, but the building manager made me take them down.”