Incubus (59 page)

“Class?”

“Cassie, the level of skill you demonstrate in these drawings is worth an AP credit at the very

least. I wouldn’t be surprised if these costumes got you a college scholarship.”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “A scholarship?” We all heard the excitement in her

voice. A smile broke out over her face, and for a moment she was the old Cassie, impish and confident

and eager for a challenge.

Mr. Hart’s smile broadened. “All in good time. Are you in?”

“She’s in,” Royal said, satisfaction shining in his eyes.

Cassie turned on Royal with a wicked grin. “On one condition,” she said, holding up a finger. “I’ll

need an assistant.”

“Done.” Mr. Hart stood and offered Cassie his hand. She shook it, grinning. “I’m hoping to hold

our first meeting with the design team on Friday after school. Does that work for you?”

“It does.”

“Great. Don’t forget to bring your assistant.” Mr. Hart gave Royal a bland smile and left.

Royal looked between Cassie and the retreating Mr. Hart, suddenly finding himself on the spot.

“Wait, you don’t mean me?”

“You got me into this,” Cassie shrugged. “Did you think you’d be able to walk away scot-free?”

Royal’s eyes narrowed unhappily. “I admit, I hadn’t thought it through that far.”

“It does seem like a fair penance,” Lucas murmured.

Royal glared at him, but I could tell his resistance was fading. After a moment, Royal sighed.

“Right. I’ll assist you. As long as you don’t expect me to do any sewing. Or take notes. Or run errands.

I don’t make lunches. The occasional coffee is negotiable.”

“Perfect.” Cassie looped her arm through Royal’s. “First step, fabric samples.” She looked at me,

beaming. “What do you say, Braedyn? Want to join us? It’ll be just like old times.”

I smiled at Cassie’s enthusiasm. “Sure.”

Royal glanced at Lucas. “You too, Lucas. You’re one of us now. That means if you’re in it for the

good times, you have to take part in the crazy-girl escapa—ouch!” Royal made a face as Cassie kicked

him lightly under the table.

“Don’t scare him,” she chided sweetly.

Lucas gave me a warm look. “I’m in.” He took another bite of enchilada.

Cassie pulled her notebook closer and opened it to a fresh page. “Maybe we should try—” she

started sketching, abandoning the thought mid-sentence.

Royal caught my gaze over the table and smiled. Silently I mouthed,
thank you.
Royal nodded,

glancing back at Cassie. I had a feeling we’d all get pulled into the Coronado Prep theater scene this

semester. But seeing Cassie this happy made it totally worth it.

After school, Lucas and I found a spot to sit on a retaining wall along one edge of the theater building.

We were waiting for Cassie and Royal to join us. Cassie had wanted to run a few ideas by Mr. Hart

before our fabric-hunt began.

“So what is this place?” Lucas asked.

“It’s a specialty fabric store. It’s near Old Town,” I said. “It’s got some material, but Cassie likes

it because they’ve got books and books full of fabric samples that you can order. She knows that place

inside out.”

“You’re telling me the whole store—all they sell is fabric?”

“Yes.”

“So, I should bring a book.”

I hit Lucas on the shoulder playfully. “Tread carefully, mister. Or else you’ll be dreaming of pink

taffeta for a month.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Lucas said, half-pleading.

I was getting ready to laugh at his forlorn expression when I heard something from behind the

theater. Lucas and I turned toward the sound in the same moment.

“What was that?” But I knew, even before we heard another meaty crack, followed by a half-grunt,

half-sob. We ran around the side of the theater.

Three seniors ringed a smaller, fair-haired boy. Two of them held his arms while the third, an

athletic guy with his shirtsleeves rolled up, swung a fist hard across the smaller boy’s face. The boy

hung between them, taking the impact with a hoarse cry. His glasses were on the ground, but I

recognized him anyway. That skinny boy from the mission. The athletic boy hit him again, and he

gave another sharp grunt of pain.

“Hey,” I called, rushing forward. “What are you doing? Leave him alone!”

The seniors glanced up at me. The skinny boy struggled to stand up between the two guys holding

him. One of them, a freckled boy, recognized me and grinned.

“Dude,” he said to the athletic boy. “It’s the chick from that fight at the mission. You better do

what she says or she’ll beat you up.”

The athletic senior frowned at me, his eyes flat and hard. “You’re defending this prick?” I turned

back to Lucas, hoping for some help. In answer, Lucas folded his arms across his chest, unwilling to

get involved. The senior took this for an answer and swung at the boy again.

I darted forward and blocked the punch, redirecting the senior’s momentum to send him stumbling

to the side.

“What the hell?” he shouted at me. But the second he made a move forward, Lucas was there with

a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from getting any closer.

“I told you,” the freckled boy said, howling with laughter. He and his friend released the skinny

kid, who stumbled to his knees, scrabbling in the dirt for his bag. He must have fallen earlier; I could

see the dirt along one side of his head, matted in his short blond hair.

The athletic boy’s features clouded with anger at his friends. “What are you doing? You’re letting

him go?” The other seniors hesitated, glancing down at the skinny boy.

“Come on, man,” Lucas said softly. “You made a mistake. Don’t make it worse.”

The senior looked from Lucas to me and back, then shrugged Lucas off angrily. “Whatever. You

want the little dweeb? You can have him.”

He stormed off, with his snickering friends in tow.

I turned back to the new boy. He clutched his backpack tightly in one fist, avoiding my gaze.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“If I’d wanted your help, I would have asked,” he snapped.

Lucas snorted in disgust and turned his back on the skinny boy.

“Why are you being such a jack-hole?” I snapped back. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m the reason

those seniors aren’t grinding you into a bloody pulp right now.”

The skinny boy ignored me, kneeling in the dirt to collect the books and papers that had spilled out

of his backpack when the older kids had attacked. With an exasperated sigh, I knelt beside him to help

gather his things up. He glanced at me, his face red. I held a book out to him. After a long moment, he

took the book from me gingerly.

Lucas shook his head but thankfully refrained from comment. He ran to chase down some loose

papers before they could blow away. The skinny kid eyed me as we worked collecting his things.

“I’m Braedyn,” I said. I picked another book up off the ground and spotted his mangled glasses.

“Seth,” he replied.

I handed him the glasses, and when he took them our hands brushed. With the touch, Seth looked

up, and I saw his unguarded expression for the first time. His eyes were a vibrant, warm blue I’d only

ever seen on postcards of the Caribbean. But it was the emotion within his eyes that caught my breath.

He looked vulnerable. Scared.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Stripped of its customary venom, Seth’s voice was pleasant. It had a

texture to it, a sort of raspy warmth I could listen to all day.

“Sure,” I said, feeling awkward.

Seth put his glasses on and bent to grab another book off the ground.

I turned away to collect some more loose papers. But as my eye fell on the pages in my hands I

froze. A drawing stared up at me. Inky claws, leathery wings, spiky silver teeth—there was no

mistaking this for anything but a Lilitu. I let my eyes slip to the other pages papering the ground all

around me. Page after page was filled with research on the Lilitu, symbols like the ones on a

Guardsman’s dagger, sketches of the old mission.

I looked up and saw Seth watching me with the strangest look on his face—a sort of curious

surprise.

Lucas joined us, holding a stack of loose-leaf pages. “Here,” he said, thrusting them at Seth.

Seth and I stood together. Lucas saw my expression and glanced at the pages in my hands. His eyes

widened slightly before darting back to Seth.

“Thanks,” Seth said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll take those.” He snatched the pages out of my hands,

bent to retrieve his backpack, and hurried back into the heart of campus.

“He’s researching Lilitu,” I whispered.

“Why?” Lucas wondered aloud. We watched Seth’s retreating back until he darted into a building

and out of view.

“Hey, guys, there you are!” Cassie waved at us from the door of the theater building. Royal

followed her out, slipping on his sunglasses against the afternoon glare.

Lucas glanced my way, a question in his eyes. I shook my head slightly. We couldn’t go with

Cassie and Royal to the fabric store. Not until we’d told the Guard about the new student at Coronado

Prep with the backpack full of research on the Lilitu.

Cassie bounded over to us, face alive with excitement. Guilt twisted my insides, but this couldn’t

wait. Cassie would just have to understand.

Chapter 5

The drive home was full of speculation. Lucas and I discussed the extremely remote possibility that

Seth was some kind of random Lilitu hobbyist who’d just happened to move to Puerto Escondido on

the eve of the final battle. Add to that the fact that we’d run into him poking around the old mission,

and we couldn’t dismiss the truth staring us in the face; Seth knew Lilitu were real, and he was

actively researching them right now.

Which opened up a vast ocean of questions. Who was Seth? How did he know about Lilitu? What

did he know about the mission? Why was he poking around out there - and how did he happen to be

there just as we went back to investigate? Did he know about the seal? What drew him to Puerto

Escondido in the first place?

“Hale will know what to do,” Lucas finally said.

A few moments later, I pulled into the driveway in front of my house. As September edged closer

to October, the old oak trees of the neighborhood were beginning to shed their leaves, carpeting the

road on either side in deep golden drifts.

We got out of my car, crossed through the lawn, and climbed the front steps to the Guard’s house.

We’d hoped to find Hale at home, but in the foyer we saw that the living room was packed. Lucas and

I looked at one another, curious, and walked inside.

A stranger sat in the center of the group. She looked to be in her early fifties, with comfortable

curves and soft wispy hair edged in gray at the temples. She was riffling through some papers,

chewing absently on her lower lip. When she found whatever it was she was looking for, she pushed

her glasses up on her nose and straightened.

“Yes, here it is. Note the date on that page, Mr. Thane.” She handed a paper over to Thane, who

took it eagerly.

“1628.” Thane’s breath caught and he pored over the page. “But the original?”

“It was locked in a vault at the Library,” the woman answered. “I obtained these copies close to 30

years ago, before they’d done any digital archiving. Thank heaven.”

“How much of the library was destroyed?” Hale asked, grimly.

“Oh, it was destroyed in its entirety,” she said, surprised at the question. “Leveled, Mr. Hale. Did

you expect anything less?”

Dad sat back, unsettled. The woman looked up, peering at us through her spectacles.

“And these young people are...?” she asked.

“My daughter, Braedyn,” Dad said quickly. “And this is Lucas Mitchell.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintances,” she said. “I’m Angela Linwood.”

“She’s an archivist for the Guard,” Dad explained. “Leadership thought we could use a hand.” I

glanced at Dad, sensing his unease. His eyes warned me to watch what I said. Which could only mean

Angela didn’t know I was a Lilitu.

“Why?” Lucas asked, glancing at Thane. “You’re in over your head?”

“Linwood is the acknowledged expert on Lilitu outliers,” Thane said in strained voice.

Hale cleared his throat. “She’s been reassigned to our unit.”