Goddess of the Night (18 page)

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without makeup
she looked pale and childlike.

Barushe set the
tray on the bed. "A friend has come to see you." Barushe
glanced worriedly at Vanessa, then left the room quickly and closed
the door behind her.

"Hi,
Morgan," Vanessa said, her voice overly cheerful.

Morgan stared
at her, eyes flat. "Hi." She turned her head and a strand
of hair fell in front of her eyes. She didn't brush it away.

"I brought
you some magazines." Vanessa placed them next to the telephone
on the night- stand. The red digital light flashed thirty-two
messages. That explained why Morgan hadn't called her back.

"You've
got calls," Vanessa pointed out. "Don't you want to hear
them?"

Morgan
shrugged. "Whatever."

A reflection of
sunlight caught Vanessa's eye. She looked down. A razor blade sat in
the ring holder next to the telephone. She glanced back at Morgan.
The covers were too tightly wrapped around her to see if she had
tried to cut herself.

Vanessa sat on
the edge of the bed.

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"We missed
you at school," Vanessa tried again.

Morgan didn't
answer.

"Do you
remember anything that happened?"

"I,"
she started, and then looked out the window before she continued. "I
was dancing and ..."

"And?"

"I think."
She sighed. "I don't know what to think. What does it matter
anyway?"

"I want to
help you."

Morgan looked
at her. Her dull eyes seemed unable to focus. Her hand reached out
from the covers for the tea. Thin brownish-red scabs sliced down her
wrist.

She saw Vanessa
looking at the cuts as she sipped the tea.

"I can't
cry anymore," she whispered, as if that explained the marks on
her arm. She set the cup down and studied the ragged lines on her
skin.

"Has
Barushe seen the cuts?" Vanessa's uneasiness was rising. What
had Morgan tried to do? Her concern quickly turned to self-blame; she
should have come over sooner.

Morgan looked
confused for a moment, then

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a slow smile
crept over her face. "Barushe keeps looking at my throat for
puncture wounds." She tried to laugh but the sound came out
wrong. "You think that's what she told my parents?" Morgan
said. "Is that why they haven't come home? They think Barushe is
being hysterical?"

"Why don't
you call them?"

"Maybe
later." Morgan sighed. "What's the use?"

Vanessa took
Morgan's hand. The skin was wet and cold. "Remember when you
talked to me about Catty over at Urth?"

Morgan shook
her head.

"You said
you'd want everyone to keep trying to find you if you were missing."

"So?"

"So I'm
going to keep trying to find you until I get you back. I have a
friend who might be able to help."

Morgan's eyes
shined with tears and her chin quivered, but then her face hardened.
Her lip raised in a show of contempt. "No one can help me."

"She can,"
Vanessa insisted. "Let me help you get dressed and we'll go
visit her." She opened

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the closet
door, turned on the light and walked in. The clothes were arranged by
colors. Long shelves held shoes, sweaters, and purses. She grabbed a
gray hooded sweatshirt and black flared pants and brought them back
to the bed.

"Put these
on," Vanessa instructed. "I'll go talk to Barushe."

Morgan looked
at the clothes as if she didn't understand.

"Dress,"
Vanessa explained.

"Get my
five-pocket carpenter's," Morgan ordered.

"You got
it," Vanessa said, and smiled with confidence. If Morgan could
think about clothes, she wasn't completely lost. She hurried into the
closet pulled the denim pants from a hanger and brought them back.

Morgan took the
pants and stared at the brass button, zipper, and tie as if she were
trying to recall how to work them.

Vanessa hurried
back downstairs. Barushe was waiting for her at the bottom of the
stairs.

"I am so
grateful you came to see her," Barushe said. "Her other
friends--"

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"Other
friends? Who?" Vanessa was suddenly alert. Morgan was popular.
She had lots of friends, but they weren't close friends who would
worry about her absence at school.

"Tymmie
and Cassandra," Barushe said. "I think the other one's name
is Karyl." She made a face like she was tasting something sour.
"I don't like them."

The doorbell
rang.

Vanessa grabbed
Barushe's hand. "Is that them?"

Barushe looked
at her oddly. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Barushe."
Vanessa was forming a plan as she spoke. "I don't think Morgan
should see them."

Barushe was
silent.

"I'm going
to take Morgan with me."

"She can't
leave."

"She
shouldn't see them," Vanessa said again, and lifted her eyes
toward the door. "I'll take her down the back stairs and over to
a friend's house."

Barushe looked
uncertain.

"Can you
tell them she's sleeping? Please. Give me enough time to get Morgan
away."

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Barushe nodded
but her eyes looked nervous.

Vanessa hurried
back to Morgan's bedroom. She took Morgan's hand. "We're
leaving."

Morgan looked
at her blankly.

Vanessa tugged.
"Come on."

Morgan followed
reluctantly down the hallway
to
the back stairs. Vanessa could
hear Barushe talking to Tymmie.

"No, she's
sleeping." Barushe spoke with a slight tremor in her voice.

"We'll
wake her up then," Tymmie replied.

"Like
Sleeping Beauty," Karyl snickered.

"I better
go see my friends," Morgan said in a dazed kind of way.

Vanessa pushed
her out the back door. "Not now.

It was after
seven when she finally had Morgan in Maggie's apartment. Maggie
didn't seem surprised by Morgan's condition.

She sat Morgan
in a chair and stood behind her. "They have stolen some of her
thoughts, maybe, but at least she's not imprisoned in their memories.
Her soul needs to visit the spirit-world for healing." Maggie
gently touched Morgan's hair.

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"Can you
do that?"

Maggie smiled
as if Vanessa had asked a silly question. "People do it every
day in prayer. You go on now. I'll make sure she gets home."

Vanessa started
for the door.

"Vanessa,"
Maggie called as she opened the door. "Remember your promise."

Vanessa nodded
and left.

On the way
home, she looked at her hands. They were trembling. Fear was a mild
word compared to what she was feeling. She realized then that she had
made her decision. She knew now what she had to do.

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Chapter 24

SATURDAY NIGHT,
Vanessa lay curled in her covers, waiting for her mother to fall
asleep. She was going to meet Stanton. She didn't see that she had a
choice. She had to defy Maggie. What if she waited and something
happened to Catty? She couldn't let them do to Catty what they had
already done to Morgan. And if they had already? That was even more
reason to go now and rescue her. She threw back the blankets and
crept down the hallway to the third bedroom where her mother stored
the clothing she designed for movies.

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She opened the
door and walked inside. The room smelled of dust and mothballs. She
flicked on a light and searched through the dresses hanging on racks.
She held a scarlet sequin dress to her chest and posed in front of
the mirror. Too hot. She put it back and took a black mini. Too
dreary. Then a blue as pale as a whisper caught her eye. She took the
dress. The material was silky and clinging. Perfect for a goddess. On
the floor below the dress sat strappy wraparound high-heeled sandals
that matched the blue.

She didn't
understand why she needed to dress up to meet Stanton but the impulse
to steal into the storage room had been rising in her since the sun
set.

She took the
dress and sandals back to her room, then sat on the floor and painted
her toenails and fingernails pale blue. She drew waves of eternal
flames and spiral hearts in silver and blue around her ankles and up
her legs with body paints.

When she was
done, she pressed a Q-tip into glitter eye shadow and spread sparkles
on her lid and below her eye. With a sudden impulse she

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swirled the
lines over her temple and into her hairline. She liked the look.

She rolled blue
mascara on her lashes, then brushed her hair and snapped crystals in
the long blond strands. She squeezed glitter lotion into her palms
and rubbed it on her shoulders and arms. Last she took the dress and
stepped into it. She turned to the mirror on the closet door.

A thrill ran
through her. Her reflection astonished her. She looked otherworldly,
a mystical creature . . . eyes large, skin glowing, eyelashes longer,
thicker. Everything about her was more powerful and sleek and fairy
tale. Surely this wasn't really happening. Maybe she would wake up
and run to school and tell Catty about her crazy dream. But another
part of her knew this was real.

She leaned to
one side. The dress exposed too much thigh.

"Good."
Her audacity surprised her. Another time she would have changed her
dress. But why should she?

She took
Catty's moon amulet from her dresser and placed it around her neck,
next to her own. When the two charms touched, silver sparks

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cascaded from
the metals and remained bright stars on her skin.

She grabbed the
shoes, tiptoed down the hallway to her mother's room, and crept
inside. She kissed her mother good-bye. The kiss remained visible on
her mother's forehead, all rainbow and glitter dust.

Finally, she
turned, back straight and strong, and walked through the still house
and out the front door. She sat on the porch steps and put on her
sandals. As she tied the straps, it came to her with a sudden shock.
She had been preparing for battle like a medieval knight, or an
ancient warrior, with ritual and ceremony.

She stood. She
felt ready.

She strolled
luxuriously down the dark empty street as if she owned the night. Her
heels clicked nicely on the cement walk. She didn't feel
self-conscious or fearful that people might see her. She felt good in
her body, thrilled to belong in it. She whooped. It was a war cry.
The lights in the house beside her flicked on.

Let them peek
out their windows and see me, she thought.

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Stanton had
told her he would be waiting around the corner from her house the
night she met him in the hills surrounding the Hollywood Bowl. She
felt his presence before she even turned the corner.

Stanton stood
silent against his car, his blond hair tousled in the night breeze.
The car was sleek black metal, low to the ground, and spitting
reflections from the street lamps. He glanced up when he saw her but
didn't move. His blue eyes met hers, and she glimpsed something
predatory in them.

He took three
quick steps toward her. She tried hard to keep herself steady. She
didn't flinch. She wouldn't let herself feel afraid. The air between
them prickled with static electricity. He smiled and she thought for
a moment he was going to kiss her.

"I didn't
think you would come." His breath was sweet and warm and mingled
with hers.

"I'm here
for Catty."

She saw
something in his eyes then. Was it disappointment? Maybe it had only
been her imagination. He turned as
if
he didn't want her to

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look in his
eyes and walked away from her, his slow easy steps echoing into the
night. He opened the car door. She followed him and started to climb
into the car but stopped. She saw her image in the car window. A
goddess. Her breath caught, heartbeat quickened. She couldn't pull
away from her reflection. It was as if the warrior goddess had
emerged, and she looked less human, more dangerously beautiful.
Stanton seemed to know what had stopped her.

"That's
how I've always seen you," he said. "Since the first
night."

Her head jerked
around and she caught something in his eyes before they turned hard
again. It wasn't her imagination this time. She definitely saw
something gentle and caring.

"What do
you mean by the first night? How long have you been watching me?"

"Awhile,"
he smiled mysteriously. He took her hand and helped her into the car.

Her dress was
too short and rode up her thighs. Her long legs stretched in front of
her, glistening with glitter and entwined with flames and hearts.

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He jumped in
the driver's seat, then turned the key in the ignition. The engine
roared like slow, thick thunder. The car pulled away, and they drove
toward the southeast side of Los Angeles. He merged into traffic on
the Hollywood Freeway. Headlights cast light and shadow across their
faces. They rode in uncomfortable silence, her body too aware of his
presence. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and glanced
at him.

"Is Catty
all right?"

"You'll
see soon." He cut in front of a speeding car.

"How did
you ..." she started to ask, but her mouth was so dry her words
caught in her throat. She had to be braver. Finally, she asked, "How
did you become a Follower?"

He glanced at
her, then back at the freeway. "You don't need to know"

She took
another long breath. "I was just wondering if someone did to you
what you did to Morgan." There was too much challenge in her
voice. She regretted it as soon as the words were spoken.