Quantum (40 page)

As if I would have the guts to just call up Dylan, just to say “Hey.”

I passed by the fountain that they didn’t bother to put water in anymore, even in summer. More than one person had used it for a giant trash can today. Was that really any better than throwing your trash right on the ground? What’s wrong with people?

I don’t know what it was that made me take a closer look as I walked by Dog-Eared. Mr. McGuffey always closed the shop at five o’clock. He said that after dinner his customers were all home reading, and he would be too. The lights were on low in the front of the store, like usual. Over the piles of used books stacked against the front windows, the tall bookcases that created a maze through the shop had yet more books stacked on top of them that reached to the ceiling. There was one center aisle that went straight to the back of the shop. In the retail world we call that a power aisle, although it would have had more power if Mr. McGuffey could stop acquiring books and letting the stacks encroach on it. But I guess that squeezing your way around that shop is part of its charm.

There was a flare of light. Just a quick something that was gone almost as I noticed it. Whatever it was, it was probably what had caught my eye in the first place, because that was just not right. Moving closer to the shop, I thought I saw movement on the far aisle, the one on the side of the shop that butted up against the building next door. There were no windows there, and it was too dark to see, so I decided to duck down the alley on the opposite side. Maybe I could see something through the windows over there.

Now I’ll admit it: it’s not a great idea for a girl, alone at night in a deserted downtown shopping area, to go creeping down dark alleys to peep in store windows where suspicious activity may or may not be taking place. But in my defense, I’m not exactly an ordinary girl, and I was just going to have a look anyway.

There’s another power aisle that runs along the back of the store, in front of the door to the back rooms. In that aisle were four boys, doing bad things.

I recognized Jeff right off, even though his back was to me. Maybe it was the Neanderthal posture. Standing next to him was a smaller guy who looked vaguely familiar. Probably a freshman. Across from Jeff was a tall guy I didn’t know who looked older than we were, and next to that guy was a sophomore who was in my gym class last year.

Jeff and the freshman each had a pile of books in front of them, and when I say pile, I mean it looked like they’d just gathered up and armload and dumped them in the floor. Nice. They were tossing these books, in sync with each other, into the air in front of the other two. Who would then d-i-s-i-n-t-e-g-r-a-t-e them. No, really, I kid you not. I don’t know what the younger guy was doing, but his book just turned to dust which floated down to the carpet. The older guy’s book burst with a brief flash of flame and then exploded into embers that glowed for second before they joined the mess of dust and ash on the floor.

I shuddered. Damn I hate fire.

And fire in a bookshop? Genius. What a bunch of idiots. Did they want to burn the place down? Start a fire that would rip through all those stacks of books, choking the place with thick, black smoke, trapping them all in that maze of bookshelves, crawling frantically along the floor, searching for the exit, while the temperature—

I sat down hard in the alley and put my head on my crossed legs, taking deep breaths of dirty, old cement and the smell of my leather boots. It’s worth mentioning again: I hate fire.

But what was I going to do, let them burn down the store with their stupidity? Besides the fact that not even stupid people deserved that experience, more importantly, there was Mr. McGuffey. He used to bring me some tattered picture book that was beyond selling every week when I was a little kid in the store with my dad. I totally owe my love of reading to my complete lack of a social life and the owner of Dog-Eared. So there was no way I was going to just walk away.

And I couldn’t call the police either. Or…I guess it was more like I wouldn’t. These guys were Talents. No matter how much I didn’t like them, I still had enough us against them mentality that I wasn’t about to bring in the cops. We Talents needed to police our own. The police would just report the whole thing to the National Institutes for Ability Control. If NIAC came to investigate Talents in Fairview again, that wasn’t going to be good for anyone. We’d already had more kids taken away to the State School in the last month than in the last few years put together, and I did not want to draw any more attention to our town than we already had.

I just wished these idiots felt the same way.

I pushed myself back up and moved to the next window, the one that didn’t have a view of much of the shop because it was located behind a bookcase and piled with paperbacks. I could see the latch in the middle, so it wasn’t a problem to reach out to it with my mind and get it to turn. The fact that it had been painted over at least once required a little mental elbow grease, but I got it. I floated the piles of paperbacks down to the floor before opening the window, so they wouldn’t fall and make noise, and then I hoisted myself up and climbed in.

At the end of the row of bookshelves, I peeked around the corner. They were still playing their stupid game.

The first two would count it down, “Three, two, one, GO!” and toss the books.

Then the other two would say, “Ashes to ashes!” and “Dust to dust!” at practically the same time they destroyed the targets.

Losers. I was debating what to say when a girl rushed out of the center aisle into the middle of them to bang on the door to the back room. Yeah, hon, just step right in the middle of a contest between the guy with the flame and the guy with the—disintegration ray power. Whatever. It’s not always easy to come up with names for some of these Talents.

The door was yanked open and Marco stepped out. My stomach did something unpleasant. Ok, I’ll admit, I was kind of scared of my nemesis. Call it post-traumatic stress. Mr. I-Can-Bench-Press-A-Steel-Girder did almost kill me not too long ago. When I looked at him, I imagined the feel of his hands around my throat, right before Dylan tackled him and saved my life. I so did not want to take Marco on again.

“You’re screwing up Angie’s concentration, Bella. What do you want?”

“Corey was feeling me up again when I was out of my body.”

“What?” said a voice from in the stacks, “She wasn’t using it.”

“Cor, this isn’t a date-rape opportunity, it’s a job. If you get your rocks off fondling unconscious chicks, get some GHB and do it on your time. Or take Sleepy, here, for a night on the town.”

“My name is Curtis,” the freshman whined, indignant.

“Like anyone cares,” Jeff said.

“Hey, can we work now? Angie’s still looking for the cash. Bella, get your virtual ass back up to the roof and do your job.”

“Ok, but I thought you’d want to know that some girl went down the alley and was looking in the windows.”

“What?” Marco asked, in a dangerous tone that made the boys sit up, but didn’t seem to affect Bella very much.

“Yeah, dark-haired girl in an army jacket? Looked kind of like Joss Marshall.”

Oh shit. I pulled back behind the stacks and started to move toward the window.

He came through the bookcase. I mean through the bookcase. One minute there was no one between me and the window, and the next there was a shimmer to the air in the form of a body coming out of the books. It grabbed me hard while it was still fading back into Corey Danvers, who smiled as he jerked me into the back aisle where everyone could see me.

“And look what I found.”

***

I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek at my new book, Heroes ’Til Curfew, which continues the story of Joss, Dylan, their friends, and their enemies from Hush Money. Please visit me at http://susan-bischoff.com for up-to-date information on the Talent Chronicles series
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Sojourner by Maria Rachel Hooley

Seventeen-year-old Elizabeth Moon has been dreaming of her murder her entire life, and in those dreams, a dark presence is there, watching. When she returns to Hauser’s Landing, the very place her father disappeared, she comes meets a gorgeous guy named Lev Walker, and it’s not long before she’s falling in love. But there’s something different about Lev, something that makes her afraid. When she realizes he’s the eerie watcher in her dreams, she’ll have to discover the truth. Is he a guardian angel or a sojourner, an angel of death who has come to collect her soul?

Book 1—Sojourner

Book 2—Covenant

Book 3—Second Sight

Book 4—Anathema

Available at Amazon.com, Barnesandnoble.com,smashwords.com.

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I am Laila, of the night. I have walked through godlight and through darkness. I have fought demons and I have slain angels. I am Laila, of the shadows. I have hidden and run, and I have stood up and striven. I am Laila, of tears and blood, of sins and of piety. I am Laila, outcast from Hell, banished from Heaven. I am alone, in darkness. I am Laila, of light and of fire. I am fallen. I rise again.

"Really, really fun... pure pleasure to read." -- Geek Speak Magazine

"A delightful read... hard to put it down." -- MotherLode Book Reviews

The battle of Armageddon was finally fought... and ended with no clear victor. Upon the mountain, the armies of Hell and Heaven beat each other into a bloody, uneasy standstill, leaving the Earth in ruins. Armageddon should have ended with Heaven winning, ushering in an era of peace. That's what the prophecies said. Instead, the two armies--one of angels, one of demons--hunker down in the scorched planet, lick their wounds, and gear up for a prolonged war with no end in sight.

In this chaos of warring armies and ruined landscapes, Laila doesn't want to take sides. Her mother was an angel, her father a demon; she is outcast from both camps. And yet both armies need her, for with her mixed blood, Laila can become the ultimate spy... or ultimate soldier. As the armies of Heaven and Hell pursue her, Laila's only war is within her heart--a struggle between her demonic and heavenly blood.

Learn more at: DanielArenson.com

FIREFLY ISLAND

A fantasy novel by Daniel Arenson

Discover a world at the edge of imagination….

"This is the most excited I have ever been about a fantasy book!"

-- ReaderViews.com

King Sinther, his flesh made of stone, tyrannizes the enchanted Firefly Island. Swords and arrows break against him. Armies crash before him. All of Firefly Island, a land of magic and mystery, suffers under his cruelty.