The Nine Lives of Chloe King (67 page)

Chloe wasn’t sure what kind of answer that was, but her mother didn’t seem to be upset by the union.

“Thank you,” she said slowly. “I guess I’ll be going back now.”

Go with my blessings, Chosen Daughter.

There was nothing to embrace, or Chloe would have. The shade of her mother was only fire and air. She turned and faced the edge of the cliff. The winds of a thousand ages blew up it, lifting her hair and stinging her face.

She put her hands out like Superman and jumped.

Twenty

Chloe came to
calmly this time, without a jolt or start.
Because I chose to and was ready,
she realized. Her head lay in Brian’s lap, sticky with blood. The wound on her neck was already drying up and knitting itself together as she lay there. In a moment, there would only be a faint scar. Like from the bullet. Like from her fall from the tower.

“Chloe!” Brian choked, hugging her as best he could in their two positions.

“That … kind of sucked,” Chloe said, trying to lighten the mood around them. Then she felt a strange sensation in her stomach. The brave leader and martyr pushed herself off Brian just in time to vomit all over the ground. When her neck pulsed, it
ached
like her worst cramps. One didn’t just die and recover immediately; even with Chosen Ones there was suffering in the process. She moaned once, unable to keep it in check.

Dmitry and Amy were at her side, one holding her up, the other holding her hair back.

“Do—do we have a truce now?” Chloe whispered, looking up at Brian’s dad. Acid stung her throat.

“We do,” the middle-aged man said loudly and authoritatively, but his eyes were suspiciously wet.

Epilogue

This was not
exactly how Chloe had imagined attending the fall formal.

For one thing, her dress was kind of last minute—Marisol gave her the choice of one free thing off the racks and Amy had adjusted it for her. Eschewing lace or satin or even cotton, Chloe had opted for a leather bustier and pencil skirt. She felt a little outrageous these days. A red velvet ribbon was tied around her throat as a choker, hiding the scar.

Her date wasn’t anyone from her school, and he was in a wheelchair. Brian promised he would try to get up onto crutches for one dance, but Chloe wasn’t going to hold him to it. He looked great, actually, very tragic and romantic with his black velvet jacket, pale skin, and luscious dark brown hair. Somehow Amy had managed to scrounge up an antique wheelchair, which helped the image. Brian balked, however, when she suggested a velvet throw over his lap.

Amy was actually dancing with Alyec. They were officially An Item now. And they looked pretty hot together, Chloe had to admit. Her friend was positively gorgeous in the seventeenth-century zombie outfit she had designed.

Paul was sipping spiked punch next to Kim, who didn’t bother disguising her ears and eyes; it was a Halloween dance, after all. Everyone complimented her on the “prosthetics.” She wore a very prom-y black gown with ruffles and crap, but it actually worked on her, in a sort of otherworldly way.

Paul was still kind of nervous around Kim and Kim was still just drinking in normal human teenage culture; she looked like an orphan suddenly let into a banquet. Somehow Chloe didn’t see the two of them hooking up. At least not yet.

“Oh, hey,” Brian suddenly said, interrupting her thoughts. “I got you something—I totally forgot.”

“Besides
the corsage?” Chloe teased, fingering the orchids at her wrist. “I’m showered with riches.”

As he fumbled in his pockets, she tried to guess what it would be. A little cat figurine? Her name in hieroglyphs, like a cartouche pendant? Catnip?

Instead he pulled out a pin. She squinted at it in the dim light, letting her Mai eyes go slitty for just a moment.

First Woman President,
it read, with Wonder Woman standing proudly, hands on her hips.

Chloe laughed. “I think I have all the leadership I can handle right now.” She leaned over so he could pin it on. Instead he pulled her forward and kissed her.

“Photo of the charming couple?” Scott Shannon brandished his camera enticingly. There was a portrait area set up in the corner with an actual professional photographer, but he was handling the “action” snapshots.

“That would be wonderful,” Kim said excitedly, coming forward and dragging Paul. She beckoned for Amy and Alyec to join them. “Get all of us. I want the tiny ones that fit in a wallet.”

“Do you even
have
a wallet?” Paul muttered.

Kim just hissed at him.

Everyone laughed, and the flash went off.

About the Author

Liz Braswell
was born in Birmingham, England, and now splits her time between Vermont and New York. Her major at Brown was Egyptology and yes, she can write your name in hieroglyphs. She then produced video games for the next decade, which was the coolest job ever. She likes skiing, sitting third row center at the movies, planting trees, her sister’s excellent black boots, and Nutella.