The Nine Lives of Chloe King (57 page)

“Hello, Mrs. King.”

Chloe’s mom opened the door for Kim, then stared at her. She wore a black felt hat pulled tightly down to cover her ears and loose black jeans with a frumpy black sweater, like she was trying to disguise her whole body, not just her head. Round Lennon-style sunglasses with thick red lenses hid her slitted eyes. She stuck a
gloved
hand out and presented Anna King with a bouquet of flowers. “Here. I hope this is an acceptable hostess gift. Thank you for inviting me to the party. I’ve never been to one before.”

Chloe closed her eyes in horror and exhaustion. Amy tried not to giggle, for the first time ever not the weirdest and most socially inept person at a party.

“You can take all that off,” Chloe said, trying to sound lighthearted and polite. “Mom saw you at the Presidio, and anyway, she knows who you are.”

“These are
lovely
flowers, Kim, thank you.” Chloe’s mom had her game face on, but she was genuinely touched by the gesture. She rummaged for just the right vase in the cabinets. Kim took off her gloves distastefully and removed her hat.

“Here, I think this will do.” Anna King turned around with the flowers nicely arranged in a cobalt blue crystal thing just in time to see Kim running her clawed hands through her hair, scratching at the base of her unfolding, velvet black ears. “Ah,” she said, trying not to look surprised, trying desperately for the politically correct you-can’t-shock-me look she usually reserved for transsexuals or the severely deformed.

“I’ve never interacted with humans like this before—undressed, I mean,” Kim said, a little uncomfortably.

“Hey, have a drink,” Amy suggested, waving at a little platter of virgin coladas with grenadine “blood” dripping down the sides of the glasses. Sometimes Chloe wished she had a younger sister just so her mom would have someone else to get all Martha Stewart on.

Kim picked up a plastic glass suspiciously and her tongue darted out, taking the smallest lick from the top. Apparently it was acceptable; her eyes widened and she took a sip.

“He’s such a douche bag,” Amy said, turning to Chloe and continuing their conversation from before as if nothing had happened. Kim nodded wisely as if she knew what was going on. “He just fucking gave back the CDs I gave him, like I was just loaning them or something. ’Oh, uh, Amy, I think these are yours,’” Amy said, standing on her toes and imitating him. “What’s up with
that?”

“Paul and Amy are definitely breaking up,” Chloe told Kim, feeling the need to let her in on it. Also, it gave her something else to do. It was easy to console Amy when the boy involved was someone Chloe barely knew; with previous boyfriends she had joined in with a happy chorus of “he can go to hell” and wishing various poxes on his genitalia.

She didn’t really want to say anything bad about Paul—although he really
was
being a douche about this, Chloe reflected. But he had his own shit to deal with…. She really didn’t know
what
to say or do now.

“Is this a bad thing?” Kim asked with all the innocence of a vaguely interested psychotherapist.

“He … I …,” Amy began and stopped. “He’s just being a total douche bag about it!”

“Do you want to stay together?” Kim said, in a tone that was like she was just repeating the previous question.

“I don’t know. Not if he’s going to be like this all the time.”

Chloe marveled at how well Amy and Kim seemed to be getting along. They seemed to have bonded even more since the night at the diner; Amy was spilling her guts to the girl she normally would have been dead jealous of—beautiful, exotic, and far more outré than herself. “I don’t know
how
to break up,” Amy finally admitted, pulling one of her dark locks straight. “I don’t know if we can go back—if
I
can go back to just being friends again.” She paused, chewing her lip uncertainly. “We were intimate, you know? We—”

“Stop,” Chloe suggested, deciding it was time she entered the conversation again. “Please.”

The three of them were silent, sipping their drinks for a moment.

“He wasn’t very good,” Amy couldn’t help saying.

“Stop,”
both Kim and Chloe said at the same time.

“Your necklace,” Kim began, trying to change the conversation, “is fascinating—it’s one of our Twin Goddesses.”

“Bastet, yeah. What do you mean Twin Goddesses?” Amy asked, fingering the little cat charm she had worn every day since her bat mitzvah.

“Bastet and Sekhmet, the goddesses of the Mai. Whose divine blood runs in our veins and whom we worship.”

“Get out!” Amy said, excited. “You all are like
Egyptian
and polytheistic and stuff?”

Chloe shook her head as the two girls spoke animatedly about religion.
Even Amy would make a better Mai priestess than me.
Aside from being Jewish, her best friend was always the one into Wicca stuff, and Buddhism, and ancient pantheons and things like that.

Just when Chloe began to relax, Paul and Alyec arrived—together. Which was weird for a number of reasons, not the least of which that the latter had been dissing the former pretty badly just a couple of days before.

“Hey, Mrs. King,” Paul said. He came bearing a Greek salad.

“Nice to meet you, Chloe’s mom,” Alyec said, both charming and breezy, polite and insouciant.
That’s Alyec.
She hadn’t really talked to her mom much about him or Brian since being caught dating both of them—when she wasn’t originally allowed to date anyone at all. That would require talking about Brian, and that was still a subject best left alone until he had fully recovered.

Alyec also brought her mom flowers but presented them with more of a flourish than Kim. Once again Chloe wondered if some of the stranger habits of her new family were a result of being Mai or Eastern European.

“Two
bouquets in one day,” her mom said, instantly smitten with Alyec like every other female on the planet. “I haven’t gotten that many even on Valentine’s Day.”

“Chloe.” Alyec came over and kissed her on the cheek, a safe bet. Paul and her mom exchanged pleasantries, then Paul suddenly found himself deeply interested in a bowl of wasabi peas.

“Hey,” Chloe said uncertainly.

“I’m sorry—,” Alyec began. Somehow she suspected it was something he wasn’t used to saying.

“No, you’re completely right,” Chloe said, stopping him. “I … wasn’t treating you fairly.”

Amy had discreetly removed herself a few feet, looking at their CD collection, eventually wandering over to Paul. Chloe’s mom had managed to corner Kim and was questioning her as politely as she could without reverting to lawyer mode.

“So, you’ve lived with your, uh,
Pride
your entire life?” her mom was asking Kim interestedly, popping a chip into her mouth. “Never went to school or anything?”

It was supposed to sound neutral, a casual question, like Anna King was talking to another adult. But Chloe could hear the tone in her voice, see the look on her face: maternal concern was beginning to manifest. Chloe thought about her biological sister, the one whom she had only found out about recently, the one who had been murdered—probably by the Rogue—before they ever had a chance to meet. She had told her mom about the other Mai girl but wondered what would happen if she had brought her home. What would Anna King do?

Throw a party,
came the obvious answer.

“So,” Amy said, turning back to Alyec. “How’s the music for the prom coming along, prom boy?”

She cocked her head and sat down. Amy’s latest new look involved shorts almost like knickers, tights, leg warmers, and a cardigan over a T-shirt on top. Long used to looking at the outfits while carefully erasing her friend from the picture, Chloe could see it was a look that might actually grace a runway. Amy, while pretty in her own way, never really made a good model for the clothes she designed. Her looks were complicated, second-look beauty; she should have worn simpler outfits.

And if Chloe didn’t know better, she would have thought Amy was interacting almost humanly with Alyec for once.

“It’s not a prom,” Alyec said haughtily. “It’s a
fall formal.
And
I
managed to help snag Xtian Blu to spin for an hour.”

“No
way!”
Paul said, his jaw dropping as he joined the conversation.

“Yep,” Alyec said smugly. Amy and Chloe rolled their eyes, having no idea who the DJ was.

“Doesn’t anyone ever hire bands anymore?” Chloe’s mom asked plaintively. “Even jazz?”

“Who played at your prom?” Paul asked politely.

“Formal,”
Alyec corrected.

Anna King sighed in happy memory. “The Creepy Sheep.”

Chloe wasn’t the only one staring at her. Even Kim’s eyes widened. “It was the seventies. It was
punk,”
Anna protested.

“This is a dance?” Kim asked. She finished her virgin colada down to its dregs, sticking her inhumanly long and narrow tongue into the core to scrape up the bits. Her fangy canines made little clicking noises against the glass. Chloe’s mom tried not to stare.

“The theme is ’Something Wicked This Way Comes,’ Mrs. King,” Alyec said, not really answering her. “We’re getting a drama geek to do the lighting—make it look all like trees and stuff. The disco ball,” he said with great wisdom, “is the
moon.”

“Are all the DJ slots filled?” Paul asked casually, tracing the lip of his cup. Still full, Chloe noted, of virgin colada-y goodness.

“There’s still nine to ten, for people who show up early. Do you want to take it?”

“Sure,” he said, trying not to grin.

“I’ve never been to a dance before,” Kim said, to no one in particular.

The comment hung in the air. Even Chloe’s mom seemed like an awkward teenager, not knowing what to say.

“Is it fun?” she demanded.

“No…”

“Not really…”

“They’re actually kind of a drag.”

“Totally boring …”

“But you’re all going,” Kim noted.

Again the silence.

“You.” Paul coughed. “You, uh, want to go?”

“I’d love to. Thanks,” Kim said promptly. She tried to make it sound as toneless as everything else, but she couldn’t hide the delight in her face.

“Uh, ’scuse me, I gotta go use the euphemism,” Chloe said, trying to cover her giggles.

Alyec extended his hand with a little flourish to help her out of the deep couch. She took it and pulled herself up, as effortlessly and gracefully as someone who wasn’t human. Someone Mai. Alyec showed no strain or effort; the tips of his fingers barely moved. For some reason, this little thing, this private moment that took less than five seconds to pass imprinted itself with crystal permanence in Chloe’s mind.
She was not human. He was not human.
According to ancient myth, they could not have sex with humans—only each other. The rest of the Pride already approved of the Chosen and Alyec as a lifelong couple.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

“I don’t
want
this,” she whispered, then headed for the bathroom, already crying.

“I’ll go check on her,” Alyec said before Amy could. Their voices were muffled through the door—which she slammed shut. The cool tiles and porcelain in the bathroom were overwhelmingly appealing; Chloe sat down on the side of the tub and put her head in her hands.

“Chloe?” Alyec knocked lightly on the door with his knuckle. “Are you … okay?”

She began to sob, rocking back and forth.

“Chloe,” Alyec said softly, opening the door and sitting down next to her.

“I don’t want, I mean, I want”—she tried to say in between tears—“I want my
old
life again. I want my friends acting normal. I want my mom acting normal—this party is the craziest thing she’s done yet.
I don’t want to be leader of the Pride,”
she cried viciously. “I
don’t.
It’s not
fair.
They expect me to just pick up and rotate my life a full one-eighty—to stop being a highschool student and start leading them into glory.”

“No one thinks—,” Alyec began.

“Yes, they
do-oo!”
Chloe sobbed. “Everyone keeps saying I can have a normal life and go to Berkeley or whatever, but I have to do all these other things—rituals and stuff I don’t even believe in. I can’t lead anyone. I can’t lead myself. I
suck.”
It all came out, loud. Everything that had been growing in the back of her head, whispered cynicisms and sly doubts, finally burst forth. “I’ve been mean to you, I don’t deserve you, you shouldn’t be here. …”

“You’re not mean to me,” Alyec said softly, with a faint smile. “You may be confused about a lot of things right now, Chloe King, but I can tell you that you are not
mean.
Except maybe to yourself.”

Chloe kept crying.

“I want to start the year over,” she moaned. “I want—this all—to stop.”

“Shhh.” Alyec finally put his arms around Chloe and began to rock her.

“Paul is taking Kim to the prom—
dance,
excuse me. Amy obviously wants to go with you. She totally does. Brian can’t go because he’s sort of almost dead. I couldn’t go anyway because I’m going to be
really
busy learning dead languages and leading the Pride and being on the math team and it’s not like I’m even part of
high
school anymore. …”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, eyes burning from the tears and nose definitely swollen.
I probably look like shit.
But most of the crying seemed to be over; Chloe was just angry.

“It must be really confusing for you right now,” Alyec said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “I wish I could help.”

“Mai relationships are a lot less …
complicated
than human ones, aren’t they?” she asked, sighing.

“I think they’re a lot more
immediate,”
Alyec said with a grin. “Instead of getting upset or running away, if you had been raised Mai and didn’t like seeing me with Amy, you probably would have let your claws out.”

Chloe smiled a little at that.