The Nine Lives of Chloe King (45 page)

Her mother was beside her, making sure she was okay.

No, wait—her mother had carefully angled herself
between
Chloe and the Tenth Bladers, shielding her daughter with her body. Whit’s men shifted hesitantly on their feet, starting to raise their guns and then dropping them, unsure what to do.

Shakily Chloe got to one knee and then rose from there. It hurt every part of her, but she stood.

“
Any
one,” she said, loudly and evenly so everyone could hear her, “human
or
Mai ever touches my mother again, I’ll
kill
you. I will hunt you down and kill you. And I have seven lives left to do it in.”

Chloe put her hand to her side, which still burned. She leaned over a little to ease the pain, facing Whit and his remaining Tenth Bladers. “Listen to me: I did
not
kill the Rogue. He fell off the bridge when I was
trying to help him back up.
I have never hurt anyone. Neither has Alyec or Kim, or Paul or Amy.
Or my mom.
You can all leave us out of your little war.”

Amy and Alyec ran forward when she began to sway, each throwing one of her arms over their shoulders. Paul and Kim followed.

“As for the Mai …” She looked directly at Sergei. There was no proof that he’d actually sent assassins after her mother, but he was the second person that evening to train a gun on her. “Home isn’t Mai or human. Home is home. And I’m going home
now.”

She put out her hand and her mom took it.

Clasped, unnoticed in her other hand, was her mother’s silver earring, the one Brian had found. She looked back at those they left, the wounded, the dead, the respectful Mai, and the confused humans.

Brian was not among them.

Chloe, her four friends, and her mother walked quietly out into the night.

Twenty-seven

Two Mai and
two human teenagers sat in a booth at the Washington Diner, silently drinking coffee or hot chocolate, picking at a large order of cold, greasy fries topped with thick bright ketchup that reminded everyone there too much of blood. The fluorescent lights made everything harsh and lifeless. The late-night waitstaff was grumpy and standoffish, which was fine for the four gathered, who had no urge to socialize with strangers.

Alyec, Kim, Paul, and Amy sat uncomfortably, like distant cousins long separated at a family reunion told to go make friends with other kids their age. Kim had borrowed a scarf from Amy and wrapped her head with it like a babushka, hiding her ears. The waitress had just rolled her eyes—she was used to the late-night freaks who came in.

“So …,” Paul said, playing with a fry. “What does this whole … being-the-One thing mean?”

Kim had her paws wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate and was staring into the depths, looking spacey even for her.

“It means she is the natural leader of this pride. That her mother was probably the previous leader and that she, like her mother, fulfills all of the traditional requirements: loyalty, bravery, compassion, fair-mindedness, and a willingness to come up with solutions to seemingly impossible situations.” Kim pulled herself together a bit, falling into her usual didactic role. “It means that her ka is true and noble and that she would do anything to defend her friends and family. It means she has nine lives—or seven now, as she said. And other … less definable traits.”

Paul and Amy nodded mutely, and even Alyec seemed interested in the subject, like it was news to him.

“It means Alyec is no longer next in line to be leader,” Kim said carefully.

“That’s okay; too much responsibility,” Alyec said, trying to be humorous—but it came off sounding bleak. Even he wasn’t untouched by the events of the night.

“From what you’ve said, it sounds like that Sergei guy should no longer be the leader,” Paul said slowly. “That it really should be Chloe.”

Kim nodded mutely and looked back down at her hot chocolate.

“Did you see those two old freaks?” Amy spoke up, voice wavering. “It was like Mr. Rezza and Sergei were off in their own little world. … Did you see how he treated Brian? Like either
one
of them is likely to give up power.
Ever.”

“I have never seen violence like that before,” Kim said into her mug, then looked up, wide-eyed and shocked, like a child. “I’ve seen fights and duels, but…”

Alyec nodded, leaning on his hand. “I know. I thought it would be
fun
or something.”

Paul and Amy looked at each other. Paul reached out his hand and squeezed hers.

“We didn’t end up doing
any
thing to help her,” Amy finally said, frustrated. “We were supposed to be doing all this detective legwork crap, and none of it mattered. …”

“If it wasn’t for your idea with the walkie-talkie, we never would have found her,” Alyec pointed out.

“We were there.” Kim looked up at all of them. “Supporting her. I think that sometimes, that’s enough.”

“One thing’s for certain,” Alyec added, stirring his coffee with a claw. “Her life is going to get even more complicated and a lot more dangerous from now on. …”

Twenty-eight

Chloe and her
mom sat on the couch, mostly silent. It had taken over an hour just for Chloe to tell her mother the story and another hour for Mrs. King to ask the inevitable questions.

Mrs. King got out some expensive scotch and downed a shot. She offered Chloe some, but Chloe declined, wanting cocoa instead. Mrs. King made it for her, going through the movements robotically.

“Oh, here’s your earring,” Chloe remembered, taking it out of her pocket. It gleamed dully in the light. She turned it over in her fingers, staring at it. “It’s so random. … Such a tiny chance that it fell, and that Brian found it.”

“Give your mother a
little
credit,” the older woman said with a wry smile, indicating how
both
of her ears were bare. “Every time they moved me, I dropped another piece of jewelry or whatever, hoping it might provide
someone
a clue as to where I was. I think I’m out about three thousand dollars’ worth of the stuff.” She handed Chloe her cocoa and shook her head.

Chloe smiled—it was still too soon to grin.
I really do have the coolest mother.
She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Chun or Amy’s mom thinking to do something like that. But her face darkened again as she thought about moms and the other thing she had to tell hers.

“I saw my biological mother,” she said after they had been silent for a while. “When I was, uh, dead.”

Mrs. King looked up at her through slightly glazed eyes—dim from the evening, not the drink. There were bruises and scrapes on the side of her head where the gun had been jammed against it. Her usually pixie-perfect hair was tousled, and her glasses were bent. Chloe wished she didn’t have to see her mother this way—she might have thought her mom was a perfectionist bitch sometimes, but seeing her like this was almost unbearable.

“What did she say?” her mother asked after a moment.

“She said that she was proud of me and that I should go back and rescue you—that you were my real mother, too.”

It was a difficult thing to say, but Chloe was glad she had.

Even when her mom began to cry and hug her.

They finally said good night, somehow both knowing it was safe for now. Chloe had meant every word she had said about killing whoever tried to attack her home again, and the Mai seemed to respect her now. And the Tenth Blade had something to think about.

She wearily climbed the stairs to her room, wanting desperately the hot, cleansing water of a bath but too exhausted to seriously consider the effort of running the water or waiting for it to fill.

Chloe sat on her bed, empty of all thought, trying to kick off her sneakers without bending over to untie them.

She was startled by a tap at the window.

Brian was there, his frame obscuring a surprisingly clear night full of stars. Chloe felt her stomach lurch for a moment when she saw him. There was blood on his face and hands; where he tapped, an ugly dark blotch remained.

Chloe leapt up and pushed open the window.

“Brian!” she cried. He was holding his shoulder, like there was a wound there.

A bullet wound,
she realized, catching a faint odor of metal and powder. It smelled like poison to her, like death.

“Hey.” He smiled weakly. “I’m all right. Nothing too serious.”

“Come in—I can get some bandages. …” He was balanced on the outside of the sill as neatly as if he were Mai, and she was afraid he would fall if he lost too much blood.

He shook his head. “I can’t. I just came to say goodbye.”

She didn’t understand; it was all over. The good guys had won—and he was a good guy.

“Why? What’s the—?”

“I’m a dead man,” he said wearily. “Richard is basically calling a fatwa on me—as a traitor to the Order. And my father refuses to protect me. You never quit the Order while you’re alive.”

“But you had no choice! You told me! Your father made you.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I said my vows when I was fourteen—and now I’m a wanted man. I have to disappear.”

Finally Chloe began to cry, streams of silent tears coursing their way down her cheeks.

“Brian, it’s not
fair.
You were just trying to
help
me. It’s all my fault. …”

“Nothing
is your fault, Chloe.” He reached in and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Nothing is your fault. You’re good, kind, and smart…. I have no doubt that you’ll make a great leader to your people.” He looked her seriously in the eye. “But you know that you’re a top to-kill on the Order’s list, right?”

“I know,” she said sadly.

“My hanging out here would only put you in more danger, Chloe.” He took his hands off hers and began to stand. “I love you,” he said, and kissed the glass near her face.

She leaned forward and kissed him back, the cold glass between them keeping him safe from her.

Then he fell into the night, disappearing into the city.

Chloe covered her face with her hands and wept.

Epilogue

Sergei sat at
his desk, hands clasped under his chin as though he were praying. He had run a claw through his hair, fixing it, but there was blood on his cuffs from when he had taken down one of the younger members of the Order, pulling at the tendons in the boy’s neck while closing his fingers.

It had been a long time since Sergei had personally gotten involved in a fight. He had missed it—there was something incredibly stirring and visceral about protecting your people with your own body. That was one of the signs of a real leader.

A real leader knew what to do during peacetime as well, knew how to manage a modern bureaucracy to gather his people safely, to work the system and reunite families and keep them all employed and safe and hidden. He had done exactly that for the past fifteen years or so.
I am a leader,
he told himself,
and no one is going to take that away. Certainly not some little girl from San Francisco.

He opened a drawer, using his claw to undo the lock, and took out a small, nondescript gray cell phone. He dialed a number with his thumb, claws receding.

“Hello, Alexander? First, let me offer my condolences,” he said with a chuckle, “since everyone seems to believe that you are dead.

“In other business, I thought we could help each other out again. Remember the pride leader’s daughter? The one you, ah,
took care
of with my…
assistance?
It turns out she has a sister, Chloe King. Yes, you’ve met—Yes, she’s the One….

“And I can help you find her. So you can take care of
her
as well.”

THE CHOSEN

For Gg Re and Billy, love and congratulations.

One

“Hey, King, how
you
feeling?”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to rest her head against the locker behind her. She knew Scott was just being friendly—he wasn’t even making a joke—but the reality of Chloe’s situation was exhausting. All her life she had been content to surf the shallow waters of the pond of high-school popularity, reveling in her basic anonymity.

Of course, all that was over now.

“I’m still a little tired,” she said, turning around with a wan smile. “But mostly better. Thanks.”

“Dude, that shit is
serious.
My cousin got it and he had to be homeschooled over the summer, he was so far behind.” Scott adjusted his headphones and made a gunlike gesture at her. “Peace out.”

Why did it have to be mono?
she wondered for the fiftieth time that day. Coming down with Epstein-Barr was the fake excuse Sergei had fed the school’s administrators about Chloe’s long absence, and even now that the dust had settled, Chloe didn’t think sharing the real reason for her absence would go over too well.

Sorry about the whole not-showing-up-at-school-for-a-few-weeks thing,
Chloe pictured herself saying to the principal.
You see, I’m a
cat person
and had to hide with others of my kind in a gigantic mansion called Firebird that also houses a real estate firm while this ancient Masonic-like cult tried to hunt me down because they think I killed one of their assassins. Oh, also, I have nine lives and am apparently the spiritual leader of my people, who believe they were created by ancient Egyptian goddesses.

Nope. Chloe couldn’t imagine it would fly.

“But couldn’t it at least have been a brain tumor? Or even a nose job?” she wondered aloud. She watched Scott walk down the hall, slapping hands with actual friends. He was only someone that Chloe knew vaguely before, but at least his reaction was better than most. Keira Henderson, for instance, kept telling everyone how there should be a special health class devoted just to STDs and Chloe.