Killer (6 page)

As she rounded a corner to the blind guy's usual spot, Gaia saw that he'd managed to attract a small
crowd. A crowd of two, actually: a boy and a girl—each about twelve years old. Usually people ignored him or dropped change in the open guitar case and hurried away. But these two were standing right in front of him.

Wait a second.
Gaia slowed to a trot. Her eyes narrowed.

The girl had a backpack and a heavy down parka. She kept poking the boy urgently in the ribs with her elbow, as if she was urging him to do something. The boy scratched the top of his black wool hat, his eyes glued to the guitar case full of money. Gaia's gaze flashed to the blind guy. He kept on playing, completely unaware of the pair.
Oh, shit. It didn't take a member of the CIA to figure out what kind of scene wasunfolding.

Gaia came to a full stop. She was less than fifteen feet away from the three of them. The two kids had their backs turned to her.

The boy looked over one shoulder. Then he looked back down at the money.

Oh, come on,
Gaia pleaded silently
. Don't do it.

Maybe her words would somehow cross the distance and seep into the kid's subconscious mind. It was strange. Not so long ago she would have actually
welcomed
a sight like this, actually gone
looking
for just such a situation—
one where jerks
like these kids preyed on the helpless and the weak.
Because then she could take care of them. She had even gone so far as to circle Washington Square Park in the wee hours of morning, trying to look like a helpless victim in order to lure muggers out of the shadows and into her fists. After all, if she was a freak, why not put that to good use?

But right now ... now was not the time.

The boy took a step closer to the guitar case.

Don't do it.

Gaia knew she couldn't just sit by when she saw something happen. If the kid
did
take the money, she would have to chase him down. She was involved now. There was no turning back. She just wished she hadn't noticed.

Don't make me late. . . .

But Gaia's silent pleas never reached the kids. The girl in the silver parka gave the boy another nudge. That was all it took. Quick as a flash, the boy bent down and greedily snatched the cash out of the guitar case. Change dropped everywhere as he tried to shove the money into the pockets of his oversized jeans. The guitar player stopped playing and singing.

“Hey!” somebody in the crowd yelled.

The boy and girl flinched—then broke into a fevered sprint, heading across the park lawn.

It was amazing how two little juvenile delinquents could be surrounded by hundreds of onlookers and still manage to get away. Gaia shook her head. That was New York City.
A big, filthy, melting pot of gawkers.
She exhaled tiredly and took off after them.

 

“ELLA?”

Schoolgirl Crush

Ella looked up from her wineglass to see the curvy figure of a blond in an expensively tailored suit and pearl choker.

“Pearl?”

A smile spread across her face. In all the unbelievable drama of the past twenty-four hours, she'd almost forgotten meeting this woman just the other day while shopping at the Frederick's sale. But now the memories came flooding back. Of course, some were clearer than others. The two had bonded instantly over trashy lingerie and then proceeded to swap stories over drinks . . . many, many drinks.
But even in her stupor, Ella had been certain that they were kindred spirits.
Pearl was
smart, classy, and pulled together. Pearl was someone to admire.

“This is so funny!” Pearl exclaimed. “I just finished having lunch with a client.”

Ella nodded. She felt a strange stirring in her chest. Lunch with a client. It all sounded so
normal.
But glamorous at the same time. The way
her
life should be . . .

“You're not having lunch all by yourself, are you?” Pearl asked, pursing her lips.

“No, no.” Ella laughed, then scooted to the opposite end of the horseshoe to make room. “I'm meeting someone. Do you have time for a quick drink?”

“Sure.” Pearl slid gracefully into the booth.

A waiter instantly appeared. “Can I get you something ?” he asked.

“Just water,” Pearl replied. She winked at Ella. “I have to work this afternoon.”

Ella grinned, then raised her wine. “That never stopped me ....”

Pearl laughed.
The sound of it was so sweet and controlled, like music.
“So, I thought we were supposed to get together again. Why didn't you give me a call?”

Ella took a sip, then tapped the stem of the glass with her long, red fingernails. Suddenly she realized that she was so sick of these stupid clawlike nails—she could barely dial the telephone with them. When she
took control of her life again, they were going to be one of the first things to go. “I . . . uh.” She closed her mouth, debating what to say. Then she decided the hell with it: She would just tell the truth. Or at least
part
of the truth. “I guess you could say I've been in the middle of a personal crisis,” she murmured, taking another sip.

Pearl's flawless features creased with concern. “What's going on?”

“I've decided to divorce my husband,” Ella stated, placing the glass back on the table. “I'm starting over.”
Which is pretty much true,
she added silently.

“Good lord.” Pearl's eyes widened. “When did you decide that?”

“Just now.”

For an instant their gazes met. Then they both smiled. Pearl leaned forward and covered Ella's hand with hers.

“Don't worry, Ella,” she whispered. “I've been through the divorce mill a few times myself. I know how painful it can be—though the settlement
always
has a way of easing the sting.”

Ella laughed in spite of herself. Pearl never said the wrong thing. Ever. She was utterly fabulous. The kind of person Ella could be. The kind of person Ella was
meant
to be.

“It's not that bad, really,” Ella admitted after a
moment. “The truth of it is . . . well, I guess I never loved George.” She sighed. “The situation's kind of complicated.”

Pearl raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Another man?” she whispered.

Surprisingly, Ella's face suddenly grew warm. She knew she must be blushing. In a way, she almost felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. But that was okay. It was
pure
somehow.

“You don't have to tell me,” Pearl said with a laugh. She withdrew her hand.

“No, no ... it's just, I don't know.” Ella smiled. The wine was beginning to make her dizzy.

“He's a college student,” she found herself confessing. “He's the one I'm meeting here today.”

Approval glinted in Pearl's topaz eyes. “A college guy? Hmmm. Very tasty.”

There was a tone in Pearl's voice that was so comforting—as if she were inviting Ella to reveal all of her secrets.
She wassomeone who would never judge Ella. Not like Loki or George or Gaia.
No. Pearl was someone who would understand Ella. A friend.

“I don't know why, but I feel like I could tell you anything,” she whispered.

Pearl blinked. “Is that right? How nice.”

Without warning, Ella felt herself letting go. Maybe it was the wine, or the stress, or Loki's betrayal, or
almost getting shot ...but she no longer had any control over her emotions. “I've been pretending, Pearl,” she blurted out. “I've been pretending to be someone else. I've been dressing differently, cutting my hair differently, marrying a man I don't even love, all because the man I was in love with told me to do it. . . .” Tears welled up in her eyes. It had been so long since she'd cried. Too long.

“Shhh,” Pearl soothed. “It's all right.”

“No, it's not,” Ella choked out. “It's never all right.”

That deathly figure in the doorway was just another Skizz—a vampire that sucked the blood of the living.

 

THE GIRL WITH THE SILVER PARKA
and the boy with the oversized jeans sprinted across Union Square East just as the traffic light changed. Gaia hung back on the park side, letting the yellow cabs fill in the gulf between them. If it had been any other day, she probably would've dodged the rush of vehicles to keep up with them. But not today. There was no way Gaia was going to risk personal injury—and the possibility of missing Sam and Ella's private party for two—for a couple of punkass twelve-year-olds.

The Biggest Idiot on the Planet

When the light changed again, Gaia bolted down Sixteenth Street. The pair hadn't gotten very far. The silver parka loomed less than a half block ahead, in the doorway of a four-story brownstone. As Gaia gained on them, she could see a man standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a trench coat. He was sickly thin, with skin as white as bleached paper. Wide-eyed and shaking, the boy handed over the wad of stolen cash in return for a small paper bag.

A drug deal.

Gaia stiffened. Her legs continued to run, but her
body went cold.
Drugs. Drug dealers. The same kind of scum who had killed Mary . . .

Mary Moss had been the closest thing to a best friend Gaia had ever had. Aside from Ed, Mary was the only person to treat Gaia as if she were truly someone worth getting to know—unlike everyone else (namely Heather and the FOHs, Friends of Heather), who treated her like a weirdo freak.

At first Gaia didn't want a friend. But Mary never gave up on her. And it wasn't long before Gaia began to trust her because she knew that Mary didn't want anything from her.

Of course, that all changed when Gaia discovered that Mary had a coke habit. Mary wasn't the happy-go-lucky, carefree girl Gaia had thought she was but a troubled addict struggling with demons Gaia couldn't even begin to imagine. But with Gaia's help, Mary vowed to give up cocaine. And she would have, too—if it weren't for Skizz, her old drug dealer.

If it weren't for me,
Gaia thought, swallowing.

Skizz had hounded Mary over an old drug debt, threatening her life.
And in turn, Gaia had hunted Skizz down and beat him so fiercely, she nearly killed him.
She should have killed him.
Not
killing him had been a big mistake. Because Skizz retaliated by hiring an assassin to kill Mary. It happened in the park. Gaia and Ed had only
been a few yards away when Mary was shot. She'd died in Gaia's arms.

Every single day Gaia had to battle with the painful memories of losing Mary—the things she should have done differently to keep her alive. Every single day Gaia dreamed about how different her life would be if Mary were still around. Sometimes she got pissed at Mary. Other times she just felt sorry for herself.

And now ... now she just felt rage.

Yes, the numbness began to fade, replaced by a stinging mixture of anger and grief. The winter air was very cold, but her skin was hot.
That deathly figure in the doorway wasjust another Skizz—a vampire that sucked the blood of the living. A foul creature who enslaved poor kids like Mary and these two idiots who'd robbed the blind guy.
Gaia broke into a sprint.

It was too late to do anything for Mary. But it wasn't too late for these two.

Almost there . . .

Before any of them could react, Gaia barreled between the boy and the girl and hurled herself at the drug dealer, raising her left leg in a powerful jump kick. The dealer's dead eyes widened. His thin blue lips twitched in surprise as Gaia lifted herself off the ground. The next instant the bottom of her boot made
solid contact with the underside of the drug dealer's chin. His skull smacked against the back of the brownstone's door. His jaw went slack. He crumpled in a heap on the stoop. Gaia landed on top of him and nearly fell down. She grabbed the door frame to keep her balance, breathing heavily, filling the air with frozen white vapor.

The kids just stared at her.

For a moment the three of them were silent. Gaia glanced down at the dealer. He was out cold but breathing. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down his chin.

“What the hell did you do that for?” the boy cried, still holding the bag. He thrust his finger at the dealer's pallid face. “You could have killed him!”

Gaia shook her head, gasping for breath. Luckily a single jump kick wasn't enough to drain her completely—unlike an extended combat. “You're getting mixed up in some bad stuff,” she managed to choke out. “And you don't even know it.”

The girl's face twisted in sneering contempt. “How do
you
know?”

“I've seen people get killed over it,” she shot back.

“Over Pokémon cards?” the girl demanded.

Gaia blinked.
What the
—

Without thinking, she snatched the paper bag out of the boy's hands and peered inside. Holy shit. Part of her wanted to laugh.
Another, much larger and
more irritated part wanted to scream.

And there was a third part, too . . . the part that suddenly felt very sick and ashamed that she had knocked a guy cold over ten brand-new packs of Pokémon cards.

“Well . . . well, how was I supposed to know?” Gaia sputtered. She shoved the bag back in the kid's hands. “I mean, why did you buy them from
him?
”

As if trying to answer, the guy on the ground moaned.

“He gets them wholesale,” the boy spat, as if Gaia were the biggest idiot on the planet. “Bigger profit margin.”

Gaia realized something at that moment. Ella was probably meeting Sam at the restaurant right now, and here she was talking about the finer points of Pokémon trading with a couple of kids. Which meant that the boy was right. She
was
the biggest idiot on the planet.