Awoken (14 page)

“See through it?” Lina suggested.

Michael’s cheeks grew hot. “I didn’t say that!”

Lina laughed. “Relax,” she said, holding up his bag of marbles. “I won’t be dancing like this. We still have to make a few adjustments. Ready?”

Michael scowled. “You’d better hope this works. I liked those marbles.”

The sombrero bumped into Lina’s foot. She kicked Jericho away absently and set the marble pouch on the floor. “If this works, I’ll buy you new ones.” She brought her fist down on the pouch like a blacksmith’s hammer. She hit the bag a dozen times more before pouring out the powdery remains onto the floor. “That should do.”

“Good job,” Michael congratulated. “You killed my marbles.”

“Could you at least pretend to have a brain for five seconds?”

“That depends. Will it hurt?”

Lina planted her fists on her hips. “Are you going to do this or not?”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Lina?” he asked seriously. “Remember what happened last time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What happened last time, Awoken?” the sombrero asked.

“Not now, Jericho. And take off that stupid hat.”

“This one likes the hat.”

Lina touched her fingers to her silvery hair. “This is getting worse, Mike. I can feel parts changing…inside me. I don’t want to wait for Diggs to earn gas money. I need to get to the dollmen as fast as I can.”

The dressing screen teetered and fell, flattening the sombrero. “This one is not blind, Awoken!” Jericho insisted from beneath the squashed hat.

“Just don’t let the stonesong merge with me, okay?” Lina said. “Diggs said that’s what caused the earthbone to mutate so fast. Just keep it in the glass. Compared to moving marbles around a plate, that should be easy as pie.”

Michael stared at her. She was changing, and more quickly than Diggs had predicted. Maybe they
couldn’t
afford to wait for Diggs to earn the money.

A soft double-tap came from the door, and Diggs stuck his shaggy head into the dressing room. “They’re starting out here. Are we ready?”

Lina gave Michael a questioning look. “Well, are we ready?”

Michael was torn. His skill with the stonesong was growing, but so, too, was its strength. Could he do as Lina asked without losing control?

“You can do it, Mike,” Lina said softly. “I know you can.”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” Diggs eyed the crushed sombrero with a puzzled frown. “But if you’re not out there soon, you’ll be disqualified.”

Michael took a deep breath. “Give us a minute, Diggs.” His eyes filled with silver. “We’ll be right out.”

The high school stage was made of polished wood framed by towering maroon curtains. Bright spotlights illuminated twisting plastic vines and leaves adorning the twin pillars on either side of the stage. Michael felt an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach. The auditorium was much larger than he had expected, as was the crowd that filled the tiered seats. A line of dancers waited their turns to perform just offstage.

“We’ll see you two after the show,” Diggs said. He shifted Michael’s backpack higher onto his shoulder and smiled at Lina. “I’d say break a leg, but you two are pushing your luck far enough already. I must say, you look absolutely stunning, my dear.”

Lina curtsied. “Thank you, Diggs.”

Her gown sparkled dazzlingly, even in the dim light. Held together by Michael’s will, the colored glass covering the gown rippled in glistening waves as Lina straightened.

“You’re welcome, Melina.” Diggs leaned in close to Michael. “Just remember to keep those sunglasses on, and to keep the stonesong from merging with Lina. We can’t risk speeding up her mutation any more.”

“As if I’d forget,” Michael whispered in reply. The stonesong squirmed, reaching longingly to the earthbone inside Lina. He pulled back, but the act was difficult. Keeping the power confined to the dress was like ignoring a maddening itch on his nose. “Let’s hope this doesn’t take too long.”

“Stay strong, Mike,” Diggs said, heading offstage. “Good luck to both of you.”

As Diggs went to find his seat, Michael and Lina joined the line of dancers. The competition had already started. On stage, one of the girls from the diner was spinning in rhythm to a thumping, busy beat.

Michael waited at the rear of the line while Lina went to talk to a severe-looking woman in a black dress standing at the head of the group. The woman checked the clipboard she was holding and said something. Lina nodded to the woman and then walked back over Michael.

“Who’s that?” Michael asked.

“Ms. Darwin, one of the judges. She’s in charge of the dancing order.”

“When do you go on?”

“I’m up next.” Lina’s eyes were on the girl performing. Her lips curved down into a speculative frown. “She’s pretty good. The best here, I’ll bet.”

The earthbone’s music resonated in her voice, seductive, magnetic, drawing him as a moth to flame. The stonesong quivered. Gritting his teeth, Michael tightened his hold on the slippery power. “But you can beat her, right?”

Lina didn’t answer, but her frown deepened.

The music rose to a crescendo. The girl from the diner finished her routine at the exact moment the melody stopped, and ended in a split, center stage. The applause was loud and long. The curtain came down.

Ms. Darwin consulted her clipboard. “Melina Smith?”

Lina raised her hand. “Here.” She stepped forward.

Michael touched her arm. “Wait.”

The earthbone’s song rose up from her skin, clawing at him with loud, humming fingers. He gasped and jerked his hand away.

“Are you alright, Mike?” Lina whispered.

“I was just…I wanted…” He tried to remember what he’d been about to say, but couldn’t seem to concentrate, or to take his eyes from Lina. It might have been the dress, or the lighting, but Michael realized Diggs was right.

Melina was stunning.

“Umm…Good luck, Lina.”

Lina gave an odd little smile. “Just don’t let my dress fall apart while I’m out there.”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

With a tiny wave to him, she hurried out to center stage and knelt down on one knee behind the curtain. Her white-gloved fists resting on the floor, she let her long hair fall around her like a black and silver veil. A low, haunting melody filled the air.

The stonesong swelled.

“You can do it,” whispered Michael, unsure if he was encouraging Lina or himself.

The curtain rose and Lina exploded from the stage like a startled quail. The lights caught her gown, and audience gasped. Wrapped in a shimmering rainbow, she floated across the stage. Her leaps were elegant and poised, her toes barely seeming to touch the floor as she swept through a series of movements smooth as silk on the wind. At one point, she touched down on one foot and spun, and her glass dress became a whirl of sparkling flame.

The dance was like nothing Michael had ever seen, all light and motion and speed. He was mesmerized, and in that moment of inattention, his concentration wavered. The stonesong slipped, and a gauzy, three-foot strip of bonded glass broke free of the gown.

“Crud,” he growled, seizing the loose glass with the stonesong before the fragments broke away completely. Held by his will, the gauzy strip trailed Lina like a kite tail, flowing up and around her for long seconds before he could coax the glass back into the dress.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Neither the audience nor the other dancers reacted to the wardrobe malfunction. They must have mistaken the loose glass for some kind of thin scarf, and part of Lina’s costume.

The music changed, increasing in tempo. And Lina became a shining whirlwind, her toes caressing the floor for the briefest of moments before propelling her back into the air. The muttered conversation of the other dancers ceased. Even Ms. Darwin clutched her clipboard tightly to her chest and watched the stage with wide, unblinking eyes.

Michael barely noticed. Fists clenched at his sides, he fought a losing battle on a razor’s edge of his will. The earthbone in Lina’s body called more loudly with every passing second, chipping away at his concentration as he struggled to contain the stonesong.

A soft light appeared in the palm of Lina’s glove, and pure dread welled up inside Michael. The waystone was reacting to the stonesong. He was losing his hold.

A sprinkling of glass broke away from the gown.

No. He wouldn’t let this happen. Lina was counting on him.

Closing his eyes, he sank more deeply into the stonesong, seeking out the gentle melody of the glass amidst the thrumming of the earthbone. The song was there, buried, distant, but present. He strained to strengthen his connection to the glass and nearly lost his hold completely. The earthbone was too close, too potent. He couldn’t focus. He pulled back, feeling the dress coming apart in his mind. If he didn’t do something quick, Lina was about to become a very underdressed dancer.

There was only one chance. Gathering his will, he coaxed the glass gently away from the earthbone. The earthbone’s call slowly faded, and he focused all of his attention on holding together the glass. The music stopped, and a clipboard clattered noisily to the floor.

Michael opened his eyes.

Ms. Darwin made no move to pick up her clipboard. She, like the dancers around her, stared openmouthed at center stage, where Lina stood with her arms outstretched, face raised toward the sky.

The sight caused Michael to swallow thickly, his throat suddenly dry.

“Not good.”

He’d managed to hold the glass together alright, but only a light coating remained on the dress. Bound by the stonesong, the rest of the gleaming particles orbited Lina like curious fireflies, gently tousling her hair and gown as they circled.

“Definitely not good.”

Quickly, he willed the floating glass to the floor, but he knew he was too late. Any second now, the shock would wear off and outright pandemonium would ensue.

They had to get out of here. Frantically, he searched for Diggs’s shaggy head among the audience. He couldn’t find the drifter anywhere and thought about calling out for him. Then, he noticed the four men in black suits and sunglasses flanking the exits.

Belua.

Lina lowered her arms and curtsied.

Someone clapped, a startling gunshot of sound in the silence, and the spell was broken. Riotous applause spread through the room like wildfire. People rose to their feet, and they shook the walls with their cheers and clapping.

Lina looked stunned.

“Saints preserve us,” Ms. Darwin breathed.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Michael ran past her and out onto the stage.

The wail of a fire alarm began before Michael was halfway to Lina. Flashing white lights appeared in small red boxes fastened high on the walls and above the exits.

The applause faded and died. The audience looked about uncertainly, and those near the rear began filing out the exits. The belua opened the doors for them like helpful ushers.

He skidded to a halt next to Lina. “We’ve got to go!”

“Did you hear them, Mike?” Lina’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “I told you I could dance!”

The auditorium was emptying quickly. Nearly half the people had already gone out the doors.

“You’re a frigging rock star, Lina. Now, we have to go!”

Ignoring the music that roared through his brain, he grabbed her arm and began dragging her toward the curtains. They had to hurry. Ms. Darwin had already gotten the other dancers offstage to join the exodus.

“Get a grip,” Lina complained. “If there was a real fire, don’t you think we would smell smoke?”

A fold in the curtain parted in front of them, revealing a large man in a black suit and sunglasses. “She has a point, amigo,” Smiley drawled. “Where there’s smoke and all that.”

The remaining glass fell from the dress in a hissing rush. Michael pushed Lina behind him, placing himself between her and the belua. “Lina, go.”

Smiley chuckled. “Now, that’s not very friendly, amigo. I thought we were pals.”

Lina touched Michael’s shoulder. “There’s one on this side, too. Are they…?”

“Yes.”

“That’s right, Little Miss Riding Hood.” Smiley flashed his teeth. “We’re the Big Bad Wolves. And, my goodness, Grandma, what big eyes we have!”

“Get bent, freak.” Lina’s voice was like iron, but her fingers trembled on Michael’s shoulder. She leaned closer. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

Smiley stomped hard on the floor and raised a palm to his ear. “Nope, no rock in here, just good old-fashioned wood. No windows to jump out of, either. Oh, you could try to tear down the walls, but I don’t think you want the roof falling down on our heads. So I guess you two are out of luck.”

The belua were ushering the last few stragglers out.

Smiley produced a metal syringe from his pocket. “Naptime, kids.”

Michael shot a glance over his shoulder. A heavyset belua with a blockish face was moving toward them from the opposite end of the stage.

Lina’s eyes were large and frightened. “Mike?”

Smiley shook his head. “He can’t help you, princess.” Glass crunched beneath the soles of his shoes as he moved toward them. “He’s got nothing to work with.”

The glass!

“I’ll have to use the stonesong, Lina, all I can handle,” Michael whispered. “I won’t be able to control it all.”

Smiley shook his finger at them. “Now, now, kids. No secrets, or Uncle Nabal will have to punish you.”

Lina’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Ready.”

“Stay close,” Michael said. His eyes flooded with silver, and flickering light spread out from him across the stage. Drawn by the stonesong, the crushed glass skittered in from all directions. He focused, and the crushed glass floated up from the floor, thickening into glowing bands that orbited them like Saturn’s rings.

Lina cried out. Her palm was glowing again. Smoke rose from the glove. “Hurry, Mike.”

The belua behind them had stopped several yards away. Syringe in hand, he eyed the floating glass uncertainly.

Less cautious than his companion, Smiley laughed. “You know, you’re just so cute together. I could eat you both right up.”