Shadow's Edge (11 page)

Fourte
e
n

Ow!” Kristen shrieked as a football sailed across the front lawn of Westerville High, hitting her arm.

“My bad! Sorry!” Troy yelled from thirty feet away.

“Nice going, jerk!” Lindsay called to him from where she, Brooke, Caroline, and Kristen were all sprawled out on the grass.

We were hanging out after school, cherishing a few precious moments of freedom before Alex and his friends went to football practice, the girls went to cheerleading, and I walked home. I clutched my notebook to my chest and quickly glanced around, looking for signs of Slade lurking around in the shadows.

“You going straight home?” Alex asked as he pulled me toward him.

“Yep. I have a huge English paper to edit,” I said.

And some hardcore Other Realm research to do
,
I mentally added. I'd spent most of the past two nights sidetracked, trying to find a way to protect my sisters from the Glancaugh circle should Slade decide I needed a little extra motivation. Yet once again, I hit a deader-than-dead end. I resolved to get myself over to the Seneca College library; hopefully their folklore section would have more information.

“You guys are so cute, it makes me want to barf,” Caroline said as she looked up at us.

“AHH!” the girls shrieked as the football came sailing in their direction again, bouncing a couple of feet away.

“Troy doesn't have very good aim, does he?” I said to Alex, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

He looked down at me, his blond curls thick and golden in the last few rays of afternoon sunlight. “I'll protect you.” He smiled, leaned down, and kissed the top of my head, still holding on to my elbows.

As if he can
,
I thought.

Thankfully, my mom was with a client when I got home and my sisters were occupied with an episode of
Charmed
while my dad snored on the couch. I quickly shuffled into my bedroom.

I closed my door softly as Rhea said, “We could totally fight demons like the sisters on
Charmed
.”

Morgana retorted, “Oh yeah? What's your power?”

I figured there'd be at least ten minutes of bickering ahead. Ten minutes to myself. Ten minutes before anyone noticed I was hibernating my room, desperately trying to remain unnoticed.

Still throbbing with a migraine over thoughts of Slade and shapeshifting stalkers, I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. I had a mountain of trig homework, eighty thousand hours of Spanish, and fifty more boring pages of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
to suffer through, but all I wanted to do was sleep. I started to drift off when I heard a knock at my door. I guessed my ten minutes were up.

“Leah? You okay?” Morgana called from the other side of the door.

I sighed. “Yeah. I'm fine.” I sat up in bed and pulled out a few of my books, spreading them around me. I hoped she'd think the bags under my eyes were from immense amounts of studying rather than a Dark Créatúir hangover. “You can come in,” I added as I wiped the drool off my mouth. At the last second, I threw my glasses on in an effort to hide my bloodshot eyes.

Morgana's long dark hair swished around her shoulders and her black beaded bracelets clinked together as she walked toward my bed. She paused and picked up a few papers from my printer—some information I'd dug up on the Internet about known enemies of the Créatúir. So far, all I'd come up with was Fomoriians and … humans.

But I was still convinced that I'd find answers somewhere, buried in the web of research. I would figure out who killed Fiona and wrap everything up like a nice tidy present for Christmas.

Because that's the only way it can happen. It can't happen any other way.

My sister put the papers down and sat on my bed. “How's it going?” she said, staring at me.

“Great!” I said, a little too cheerfully. I avoided her gaze while I pretended to study my trig book. I wondered who designed the cover—like, did someone actually get paid to do this or did someone scribble a bunch of lines on a paper and say, “Here it is!” while a bunch of math geeks applauded? Or was there hidden meaning in it—like a code?

“Leah?” Morgana leaned forward, her amethyst-crystal earrings swinging back and forth.

“What?” Still avoiding her gaze, I stood up, planning to go pretend-search for something in my closet. Which would've been great, except that I stepped on a pink suede platform shoe I'd kicked off before collapsing into bed. I wavered back and forth like an inexperienced surfer before my knees gave out and I melted to the floor.

Morgana didn't say anything as I lay on the floor, my hair covering my face. I listened to the moon-and-star clock on my wall tick-tock and waited for her to speak.

“O-kay. So, I'm going to pretend that never happened, all right?” she said quietly.

I picked my head up, hair still strung across my face like weathered ropes, and looked at her. “All right,” I said. I slowly got up, making sure to kick my shoes out of the way this time. I sat down across from her again.

“Tell me about school,” she said.

“It's going really well. My classes are fine, even though my English teacher is kind of scary. I'm starting to make new friends. And Alex is … awesome.” I made sure to speak very slowly, enunciating each word.

She nodded and looked down, examining the gold stitching on her flowing black skirt. I noticed she'd written the word
visceral
on her forearm with eyeliner.

“Word of the day?” I pointed at it.

She nodded. “It just popped into my head this morning. But, really, Leah. I feel like we don't even know Alex.”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys don't
have
to know Alex. Only I do. And, for the record, he's great. He's nice, he's considerate, he's confident. And he's really been so great about helping me get used to a new school. And he introduced me to all his friends. And he's always making sure I'm okay.” I shrugged. “It's been really, really fun.” I couldn't meet her eyes for fear of her asking what else was going on.

“Do you feel close to your new friends?” She looked at me, her eyes wide.

“Probably,” I said casually. I shook my head and tapped her on the hand. “Look, I get the concern, okay? But you really don't have to worry. I've told you guys this a million times—I just want to see what a normal high school is like. I want to go to a regular school, go to a regular college, and just be a teenager. I'll figure out how to manage the boyfriend and the friends and high school with all the Créatúir stuff. I can do both. It doesn't have to be one or the other.”

But it sure seems that way
,
I thought, despite my words.

She nodded and cleared her throat. “Are you ever going to tell him about the Créatúir?”

“Please tell me you're kidding.” I stared at her, deadpan. She didn't meet my eyes but instead stared at my stumble-inducing platform shoes. “To answer your question—no. Never. I might be helping them solve a little crisis, but I'm still going to have a normal life.”

“Leah, you are the Créatúir Shaman, so normal has a different meaning for you.”

“I get it. Are you trying to drive me insane?” I moaned as I brought my hands up to my face. After a moment, I peeked at her through my hands.

“I'm your sister. I'm supposed to be up in your business, right?” She smiled at me while she tied her long hair in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

“You do a good job of it. Not as good as Rhea, but that's a whole different story.” I gave her a small smile as she turned to leave.

Fifte
e
n

L
EAH SPENCER! WHAT ARE YOU, AFRAID?
GET IN THERE! IT WON'T HURT YOU!” Ms. Mann's voice rumbled across the playing field at me. The gym class chuckled as she threw her arms and clipboard above her head and exhaled loudly.

I gritted my teeth and forced an awkward smile as I half-crouched down in front of the soccer net, just waiting for the concrete-like soccer ball to come barreling at my face.

I had no idea how I'd wound up as goalie, but I suspected it had something to do with Brooke. She and I had been assigned to the same team, the one that had to wear those disgusting yellow pinnies. Ms. Mann told her she had to be goalie, since she'd sat out every other activity. According to Ms. Mann, no effort in gym class equals a failing grade, which results in suspension from the cheerleading squad.

Brooke had smiled sweetly and pulled a doctor's note out of her back pocket; it said something about a recurring shin split. She'd shot an apologetic look to me as I awaited sentencing from our gym teacher.

As if I didn't have enough to deal with, with Slade's looming threats swirling around my brain.

“Your friend sold you out, Spencer,” Ms. Mann had said when she turned to me. “Unless you got one of those notes in your back pocket.” She smoothed her frizzed-out hair back with her stumpy, unpolished fingers.

I shook my head.

She smiled, revealing silver fillings lining her molars. She tossed a yellow mesh pinnie at me. The smell of B.O. hit me before the jersey did.

“Put it on.”

“But … ” I started to say, grasping the jersey between my index finger and thumb like a poisonous snake.

Ms. Mann shook her head. “No note, you're screwed.”

I'd gingerly pulled the onion-smelling thing over my head and shuffled toward the goal, ignoring the male cries about my sucky goalie skills.

I wanted to turn back and screech to all of them—Ms. Mann, Brooke, everyone—that unless they backed the hell off, I'd invite my little friend King Oran to gym and he'd explain to them how Leah has more important things to worry about than protecting the goal.

I'd hoped we'd do something more contemplative today, like yoga, so I could use the class period to mentally sort out all of the screwed-up crap that was happening in my life. But, for the present, I was stuck sweltering in the wave of record-breaking autumn heat, smelling like onion rings and forced to endure group humiliation. I mean, I had already learned that gym class was embarrassing, but being goalie gave me a me-against-everyone feeling, much like I'd venture to guess convicted prisoners feel in front of the firing squad.

The black and white checkered ball hurtled toward me, at a speed I swore was, like, ten times that of the Apollo 13. So I did what every human on earth wants to do when an object is hurtling directly toward their face.

I ducked.

“Woo hoo!” went the cheers from the other team.

“She sucks!” went my team. Everyone gave me dirty looks, which I found my classmates much more inclined to do when I was alone rather than standing next to Alex.

Well, everyone except Ben. He just laughed and smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. I shrugged at him and half smiled.

“SMITH, GET ON TOP OF IT! GO ON!” Ms. Mann shouted from my left. I looked over at Brooke, who was texting and waving a hand in front of her face as though dying of heatstroke. Meanwhile, I could feel my own hair beginning to swell larger and larger, like a dormant alien preparing to take over the country and suck out the brains of all humans.

The crowd ran down toward the other goal as my team kicked the ball downfield. The other goalie crouched down as a girl kicked the soccer ball toward her. She dove forward, catching about ten feet of air between her body and the ground, and nabbed the ball before landing on the grass.

“SEE THAT, LEAH SPENCER? THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!” Ms. Mann yelled as I grimaced at her.

I could feel my mascara slipping down my cheeks and a trickle of sweat making its way down my cleavage. The gym class raced back toward me, a twisting group of kicking legs and thumping arms. Closer and closer they came, until a redheaded guy broke free from the crowd and started going for broke directly at me.

Damn it.

I'm so screwed.

Please don't let the soccer ball break my nose.

He paused in front of me—and I swear I saw little devil horns in his red hair—before aiming his foot, and the soccer ball, directly at my face.

I expected the ball to connect perfectly with my head, but Ben came out of nowhere, his long body flying through the air as he intercepted the ball with one quick move. He looked like Superman. And just as quickly, he was on his feet again, having saved me from certain disfigurement and humiliation.

Pweet
went Ms. Mann's whistle. “GAME OVER. CLASS TIME IS UP. GO GET CHANGED.”

My team grumbled as we started to peel the smelly
jerseys off. I heard a few grumblings of “Nice job, Leah,” and “Way to go, New Girl,” and one “Alex needs to teach her some athletic skills after all.”

“Are you okay?” Brooke asked as I walked over to
the sidelines.

I grunted and wiped mascara from under my eyes. I wistfully remembered Oracle Prep's idea of gym class—aka free period.

“Sorry you're all sweaty and everything, and sorry to bother you about this again, but I wanted to give you an update on the whole Gregg situation,” Brooke said, grabbing my arm.

“Yeah?” I squinted in the sunlight.

“Well, I've been listening to some of his phone calls, which are mostly status updates and stuff about the stadium project, but I could've sworn he called one of the callers Melissa! Well, not sworn. It might've been Mary. But it's close!” Brooke smiled. “Anyway, he sounded all weird when he was talking to her. I know it's because they're totally doing it. I think I'm close to catching him, and getting my mom to give him the boot!”

“Brooke … ” I started to say, and exhaled loudly. I didn't know what to tell her. Then, a brilliant idea. “Why don't we call Melissa after school and just ask her about it? I'll confront her and you'll see that probably, it's not her. Sound good?” I watched as my sweaty classmates began to walk back to the locker room.

Brooke shook her head, her perfectly elliptical bangs floating against her forehead. “I don't want to tip them off. Let's just keep digging and see what we come up with, okay?”

I nodded and started to walk inside, toward the air conditioning. “Coming?” I asked when she stood still.

“Oh, yeah. In a minute. This sun is great—I'm just going to get a little tan. I'll meet you after.” Brooke turned her face toward the sun.

I rolled my eyes a little, when I was sure she couldn't see, and walked across the grass.

“So, you're probably not the next Mia Hamm,” Ben said as he jogged up next to me. His hair was wet against his forehead as he pushed it out of his eyes and squinted in the sunlight.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” I mumbled. Despite myself, I smiled at him as I pulled the rubber band out of my hair and wound it around my wrist. I shook my hair out with my hand.

“Can I have that? Thanks,” Ben said in one quick sentence. He reached out and deftly pulled the rubber band off my wrist with one smooth motion. He leaned back slightly and pulled his hair through the elastic, securing it behind his head.

I'd never liked guys with longish hair before, but there was something so undeniably sexy about the way Ben carried it. My hand still tingled from where he'd touched it.

“I pretty much saved your ass with that block, Spencer,” he said as he wiped his forehead against his arm.

“You did. I'll give you credit for that. I'd have had an angry soccer mob on my hands if it weren't for you.” We walked down the concrete path toward the school.

“You could handle it. You're tougher than you think,” he said, giving me a little nudge on the shoulder.

We were silent for a minute.

“You still enjoying Westerville?” Ben asked quietly, as he scratched at his upper arm through his gym shirt.

“So far.”

“Don't worry, it only gets worse from here,” he said.

I snapped my head up and met his teasing eyes. “Very funny.” I smiled at him.

“Ow!” he said suddenly, grabbing his ankle.

“What?” I looked around in the grass and saw a leaf dragon walking carefully near our feet. Bright green, with jagged leaves for wings, he rambled through the grass like a miniature dinosaur, looking to bite the ankles and toes of unsuspecting humans and lick their blood. Like a weirdo little insect vampire.

Ben rubbed his ankle and looked at the ground. “I don't know. Bug bite or something.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I nodded as the leaf dragon bared
its teeth and hissed at me. “Baby,” I muttered to him
and smiled.

“You still doing that mythology research project your sister mentioned?” Ben asked.

My pulse began to race as I nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Yeah, but I'm having some trouble. There aren't too many helpful libraries around here.” I'd struck out at the Seneca College library as well—it just had a couple of sagging shelves on folklore, mainly detailing Greek and Roman mythology.

“Try the archives at the college library. You have to ask permission to look at the books, and you can't check them out, but they have a lot of cool stuff not on the shelves.” He paused. “That's how I got an A in English class last year.”

“Wow, thanks.” I stopped and briefly considered asking him to come along. But that seemed a bit weird, and I still didn't have a good explanation for
why
I was looking for interpretations of old texts.

Ben elbowed me in the arm, bringing me out of my trance. “You know what, Spencer?” He stopped and looked at me, suddenly serious.

I met his gaze, my stomach flopping a little. I felt
a little woozy, unsure if it was the heat wave or the powerful buzzing I felt in my ear with Ben so close. “What?”
I whispered.

He leaned in a little and my breath caught in my throat. “You're welcome.” He pulled back and smiled before jogging away, leaving me alone on the path.

I watched him disappear through the locker room doors and rubbed my arm, still tingling a bit from his elbow. I walked slowly into the building and changed back into my clothes.