Senshi (A Katana Novel) (16 page)

33

I
don’t think he’s coming.” Q picked a blade of grass and proceeded to shred it into ribbons.

“Why send someone an invitation for a fight to the death and then stand them up? Talk about rude.” I fidgeted on the stone bench we sat on. It stood at the top of a hill that overlooked the man-made lake known as the Grand Basin. I’d chosen the spot because it was shielded from behind by a hedge, and a large oak tree several feet down the hill hid us behind a canopy of orange and brown leaves. As far as cover, it was as good a spot as any. But we’d sat here for nearly an hour and, aside from the shushing sound of the fountains in the lake, the night was quiet.

Q shrugged. “We don’t know for sure that the note was inviting you to a death match.”

I made a face.

“Okay, you’re right.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Maybe Whitley got cold feet considering how things went the last time you fought?”

“Maybe … ” But then I saw the black outline of figure rounding the side of the lake and begin to climb the hill leading up to the Art Museum. I stood. “Or maybe he was just running late. Look!”

Quentin followed my finger and jumped to his feet. “What do we do? Charge?”

I held my hand out to block his chest in case he decided to do something rash. “Easy there, tough guy. The first thing we need to do is assess the situation.”

“Okay.” I felt the muscles of his chest slowly unwind. “So what does that mean?”

I crept forward, keeping my back to the hedge despite the branches that pulled at my shirt. I motioned for Q to do the same. “Stick to the shadows. We’re going to follow him and make sure he’s alone. If the other ninja are here, I don’t care what happens, you run.” I stopped and looked at him. “Promise me?”

He frowned. “But—”

“No matter what,” I insisted. “Promise me.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Good.” We continued down the line of bushes until it ended at the street in front of the museum. The shadowy figure continued to climb the hill.

Q hovered above my shoulder. “Do you really think it’s Whitley?”

I shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

At the top of the hill, he stopped in front of the giant statue of St. Louis atop his horse that overlooked the lake, and glanced in our direction. It was hard to make out who it was from our hiding spot. Despite having long blond hair that hung in such a way it covered half of his face, I knew it was Whitley. The chills that pulled at the hairs along my neck were all the proof I needed.

“Is he looking at us?” Q hissed in my ear.

I raised a hand and motioned for him to be quiet.

The guy smiled and jogged across the street. But instead of running up the main entrance stairs to the museum, he veered right and disappeared around the corner.

“That was … strange,” Q said.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I agreed. I motioned for Q to follow me and we sprinted to the St. Louis statue and peered around the corner. I stood there for several moments and watched the corner of the museum until I saw the guy appear, look in our direction, wave us over, and disappear again.

Uh-huh. I could take a hint. “He wants us to follow him.”

“Why?”

I peeled myself off the base of the statue. “Apparently the trap is that way.” I pointed to the side of the museum. A funny pressure pushed against my insides, different from the telltale buzzing that indicated I was about to lose control of my ki. The feeling inside of me was warm … and sticky. Like my blood had been replaced with honey. Not exactly unpleasant, but not that fun, either.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

Ready to put a stop to the ninja attacks? Totally. Ready to engage the most powerful adversary I’d ever had in a battle? Not so much. “As ready as I can be, I guess.”

Q nodded and pulled a black ski mask over his face. “Let’s do this.”

I blinked. “Where the heck did you get that?”

His voice came out muffled. “Last year’s Aspen trip. Don’t worry, I got you one too.” He handed me a hot pink ski mask. “This was Carly’s.”

I tossed it into the nearest bush. “That’s gross. There’s no way I’m going to breathe in her nasty, dried-up snot.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I held up my hand, motioning for Quentin to remain still as a car drove by the road. When I was sure the coast was clear and no one else was around, I motioned Q forward. We darted across the road, veering to the right of the building and tucking ourselves into the shadows of the neighboring trees. We wound ourselves around the perimeter and arrived several feet away from a side entrance that closed with a soft click as we approached.

I leaned against the wall next to the door and braced my hands on my thighs as I tried to regain some control of my galloping heart.

Quentin rubbed his hands together next to me. “Okay. Now what?”

“Whitley went inside and he obviously wants us to follow him, but … ” I pointed to a blinking security camera trained on the door. “Before we do, I have to take care of that. The last thing I need right now is to go to jail for breaking and entering.”

“That does look bad on a college application,” Q said. “But how are you going to deal with the cameras?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. But I’m going to try something.” I kept my eyes trained on the security camera as I fell inside of myself. I followed the energy that pushed against my body until I found the source—my spirit. It pulsed in greeting, the prickly feeling spreading throughout my body immediately. I stumbled forward and placed a hand against the wall to steady myself.

Q rushed to my side. “Are you okay?”

I grunted an answer through clenched teeth. The pain was unbearable. A hundred porcupines rolled through my body, under my skin. Why did it have to hurt so much? What had happened in the last couple of months to make my ki both unpredictable and painful? “I’m going to let go,” I told him. “Stand back.”

He hesitated, as if unsure he should leave me. Finally, he took several steps backward. “Okay.”

I nodded. The pressure ballooned under my skin until I thought I might burst into tattered shreds. I couldn’t let the pain take control because if it did, there was no telling what I would do. Who I would hurt. Despite the ripping sensation tearing through my skin, I kept my focus on the security camera. I imagined it shutting off along with every other camera and alarm inside the building.

The pressure burst through my skin, rushing from my chest and fingertips, searching for its destination.

I gasped.

Q was back at my side. “What just happened?”

“Wait for it,” I whispered and motioned to the camera with my eyes.

A second later, the red light above the lens pulsed once before going out. With the task completed and no other job to do, all of the energy I’d just released came flooding back inside of me. I jerked back from the force of the collision, barely able to keep my balance. Luckily, Q was able to grab my arm and keep me righted.

He stared at the camera. “That’s a nifty trick. I didn’t know you could do that.”

I opened the door to the museum and looked at him. “Me either.” I ducked inside.

He jogged to catch up to my quick strides. His eyes were wide as he gazed around the darkened corridor. “So how do you know it worked?”

We came to the end of the service hallway. I pushed against the utility doors and glanced both directions down the dark museum hallway. “I don’t.” I caught movement to my right—Whitley. I grabbed Q’s shirtsleeve and pulled him into the hallway with me. “C’mon.”

We jogged to the end of the hall and I stopped to glance around a corner. The shadow moved into a large exhibit hall.

Our sneakers made no noise as we raced across the hardwood floors. We followed the figure into another hallway with pictures of half-naked women draped across chaise lounges.

“Do you know where he’s going?” Quentin hissed behind me.

I shook my head as we followed the darting figure deeper into the museum. It didn’t make sense for Whitley to lead us on such a wild-goose chase just for a fight. No. He wanted us here at the museum for a reason—and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like what it was. Q and I sped around another corner and found ourselves at the foot of a massive staircase.

We climbed the steps two at a time. The last couple weeks of climbing twelve flights of stairs on a daily basis at the condo had been the perfect workout to get me ready for this. I had barely raised my heart rate when I’d reached the top. Q, on the other hand, was huffing behind me.

The figure left the stairs and darted into a corridor.

I waved Q on. “Just a little farther.”

We trotted past an exhibit of Grecian pottery and into a room with a giant silk screen. Japanese cranes were painted on it in varying degrees of flight, illustrated in broad brush strokes.

We skidded to a halt—the room was a dead end. And other than several glass cases illuminating various Japanese treasures within, the room was empty.

Or so I thought.

A shadow peeled itself from the wall and stepped forward until the room’s dim lighting revealed the half of his face not concealed by hair.

Whitley.

Even though I’d spotted him several times before, I still hadn’t been ready to come face-to-face with the living ghost of the guy who’d tried to murder me. I forgot how to speak. I tried several times, but the sounds it took to form words wouldn’t come—at least not coherently. I managed a strange sort of gurgling noise.

Whitley smiled. His gorgeous face the perfect disguise for the complete psycho beneath. “Hello to you too.”

Anger at what Whitley had done to me, what he was still doing to me, ignited in my body and loosened my tongue. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

He made a face that clearly told me I’d said something stupid. “Do I look dead?”

I was hit from behind and it took me a moment to figure out it was Q trying to claw his way over me, his fingers stretched out, inches from Whitley’s neck. “I’ll take care of that!” Q snarled. “For what you did to Rileigh, I’ll kill you
myself.”

A smirk spread across Whitley’s face. “I’d love to see you try.”

I gripped Q’s arm and shook it until he looked at me. “Look, I get dibs on killing him. But first, I’d like to know why we’re at the museum. This is a really weird place to have a fight.”

Whitley snorted. “I’m not here to fight. I need your help.”

I folded my arms. “With what? An art report? Because that really could have waited until the museum was open.”

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny. I need you to help me steal this.” He gestured to the case beside him and an antique Japanese hairpin labeled
kanzashi.
It looked like two silver prongs with a cluster of silver flowers at the base, each flower containing a coral bead in its center.

“What?” I started to ask him if he was crazy before I remembered I already knew the answer to that. “I’m not going to help you steal anything.”

Whitley didn’t answer. He used his elbow to smash the case. After the glass lay pooled around our feet, he grabbed the kanzashi and tossed it to me. Instinctively, I caught it, just as the wail of a security alarm screeched around us.

Whitley laughed. “Looks like you just did.”

34

I
stared at the kanzashi in my hands and then back at Whitley. My shoulders tightened and I took a step toward him. Over the wail of the alarm I screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

He tsked. “Is that any way to talk to someone who’s trying to save your life?”

Oh, that was a new one. What kind of idiot did he take
me for? “How—”

But he cut me off before I could finish. “Not here. We don’t have time.” He grabbed a fistful of Q’s shirt and pulled him forward. “Let’s go!”

I didn’t have time to argue. Instead, I followed him as he ran down the staircase and around the corner into an Egyptian gallery. He started to make a sharp turn into a neighboring hallway, but skidded on his heels as a dancing flashlight beam appeared from around the corner.

Son of hibachi!
We were so busted.

I jumped back as Whitley turned into me, dragging Q behind him. He pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for me to go the opposite direction with the jut of his chin.

I darted down the hall as the tumbling of multiple footsteps ascended the stairs we ran past.

“We’re going to jail!” Q’s panicked voice shouted behind me.

“Not if I can help it.” I took another right into the room with a twisted metal sculpture made out of rusted car parts. I darted behind it and pulled Q beside me. Whitley crouched behind him. “We’ll hide here until they pass,” I whispered.

Whitley shook his head. “We can’t just hang out here. That’s only going to give the cops time to swarm the building.”

I glared at him. “You know, we wouldn’t even be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.”

He glared back. “You really are that clueless, aren’t you? You have no idea what you’re holding or what I’m trying to do.”

I glanced down at the kanzashi clutched in my hands. Whatever the hairpin meant to Whitley, it wasn’t like I could mull it over given my current circumstance. I opened my mouth to tell Whitley exactly that, when the sound of approaching footsteps killed the words on my tongue.

Invisible hands squeezed at my heart. I glanced around the room, but the only way out was the way we’d come in. I sank back on my heels. If I wanted to keep felony theft off my record, I had to come up with a plan. And fast.

Q’s voice hitched in his throat. “What are we going to do?”

Whitley stood and unsheathed a katana strapped to his back. “We fight,” he said simply.

“What?” I stood next to him. “You can’t fight the security officers. They’re just doing their jobs.”

He dropped the sword to his side and sighed. “You know, I thought when I’d enlisted your help that you’d be, oh, I don’t know, a little more
help
.”

The footsteps were right outside the room.

“I think I have a way out of this in which nobody has to die.” I jammed the kanzashi into my pocket, spread my arms, and reached for Whitley and Q’s hands. “Let’s just hope it works.”