Night World 1 (45 page)

Blaise took the zipper between two fingers and slid it down.

The necklace fit like a collar, lying against the pale skin of her throat and the matte black of her simple blouse. And it was everything Thea had known it would be.

It was delicate, exquisite, magical. Swirls of stars and moons in enchanted patterns. Gems of all kinds tucked into the mysterious curves. Green garnet, imperial topaz, sunstone, cinnabar. Violet sapphire, African emerald, smokestone.

It seemed to move as you looked at it, the lines changing and flowing. Pulling you into the center of its mystery, winding around you like strands of softly burnished hair. Holding you fast…

Thea pulled herself away with a physical jerk. She had to shut her eyes and put up a hand to do it.

And if it does that to
me
…

Luke was staring. Thea could actually
see
the change in his face as the necklace worked its spell. Like some Oscar-winning actor transforming from bad boy to vulnerable kid right there on screen. His jaw softened, his tight lips relaxed. The muscles around his eyes shifted and he lost his tense squint. He looked surprised, then defenseless. Open. Those electric blue eyes seemed dazzled, pupils widening. He sucked in a breath as if he couldn't get enough air. Now he looked awed; now hypnotized; now yearning…

Spellbound.

Luke had been transformed. His whole body seemed smaller. His lips were parted. His eyes were huge and full of light. He looked as if at any second he might fall down and start worshiping Blaise.

Blaise sat like a queen, with her midnight hair tumbling around the necklace, her chest moving slightly as she breathed, her eyes as brilliant as jewels.

“Put the disgusting cigarette down,” she said.

Luke dropped the cigarette and stamped on it as if it were a spider.

Then he looked back at Blaise. “You…you're beautiful.” He reached a hand toward her.

“Wait,” Blaise said. Her face assumed a tragic, wistful expression. “First, I'm going to tell you a sad story. I used to have a little dog that I loved, a cocker spaniel, and we would take long walks together around dusk.”

Thea gave her cousin a narrow sideways look. She'd never heard such a lie. And what was Blaise talking about
dogs
for?

“But he was run over by an eighteen-wheel Piggly-Wiggly truck,” Blaise murmured. “And ever since, I've been so lonely…. I miss him so much.” She fixed her eyes on the boy in front of her. “Luke…will you be my little dog?”

Luke looked confused.

“You see,” Blaise went on, slipping a hand in her pocket, “if I could just have somebody to remind me of him, I'd feel so much better. So if you'd wear this for me…”

She was holding a blue dog collar.

Luke looked even more confused. Redness was creeping up his neck and jaw. His eyes filled.

“For me?” Blaise coaxed, jingling the collar—which was way too big for a spaniel, Thea noticed. “I'd be
so
grateful.”

Luke looked as if he were having a tremendous internal struggle. His breathing was uneven. He swallowed. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Then, very slowly, he reached for the collar. Blaise held it down low.

Luke's eyes followed the collar. Jerkily, as if his muscles were fighting each other, he knelt down at Blaise's side. He stayed there, stone-faced, as Blaise fastened the dog collar around his neck.

When it was secure, Blaise laughed. She glanced at the other girls, then jingled the metal loop for the dog tag. “Good boy,” she said, and patted his head.

Luke's face lit up with an excitement that bordered on ecstasy. He stared into Blaise's eyes.

“I love you,” he said huskily, still squatting.

Blaise wrinkled her nose and laughed again. Then she zipped up the bronze jacket.

The change on Luke's face was much quicker this time than his first transformation. For an instant he looked completely blank, then he glanced around as if he'd suddenly woken up in a classroom.

His fingers went to the dog collar. His face contracted in anger and horror and he jumped up.

“What's going on? What am I doing?”

Blaise just gazed at him serenely.

Luke tore the collar off and kicked it. Although he was glaring at Blaise, he didn't seem to remember the last few minutes. “You—are you gonna tell me what you want or not?” he snapped, his upper lip trembling. “Because I'm not going to wait all day.”

Then, when nobody said anything, he walked huffily off. His buddies across the courtyard were roaring with laughter.

“Oops,” Blaise said. “I forgot about the car keys.” She turned to the other girls. “But I'd say it works.”

“I'd say it's
scary,
” Dani whispered.

“I'd say it's incredible,” Selene murmured.

“I'd say it's unbelievable,” Vivienne added.

And
I'd
say it's the Armageddon of accessories, Thea thought. And, incidentally, so much for Selene and Vivienne changing their ways. They may have been shocked at what happened to Randy and Kevin, but it sure didn't last.

“Blaise,” she said tightly, “if you walk around school showing that, you are going to cause a riot.”

“But I'm not
going
to walk around school showing it,” Blaise said. “There's only one guy I'm interested in right now. And this”—she touched her throat—“has
his
blood in it. If it works like that on other people, I wonder what it will do to him?”

Thea took a few deep breaths to relax her stomach. She had never gone one-on-one with Blaise in a matter of witchcraft. And no one had ever challenged Blaise for a boy.

But she didn't have a choice—and putting this off wouldn't help.

“I suppose you're planning to find some time to ambush him,” she said. “Some time when I'm not around.”

It worked. Blaise stood, tall and regal in her bronze silk jacket, hands in her pockets, hair like a waterfall behind her. She gave Thea a slow smile.

“I don't need to ambush anybody,” she said with dreadful confidence. “In fact…why don't we set up a meeting after school? Just the three of us. You, me, and Eric—a showdown. And may the best witch win.”

“
I
don't understand,” Eric said pitifully as Thea towed him toward the bleachers.

“Well, that's reasonable.”

“Blaise wants to talk to me alone and you want me to
do
it.”

“That's right.” Thea hadn't realized it was possible to sound bright and bleak at the same time. “I told you she'd probably go after you—”

“And you told me to be careful of her. You made the point very strongly.”

“I know. It's just…” Thea searched for an explanation that wouldn't be too much of a lie and clutched her bottle of Evian water. She didn't need to ask him if he had the protective charm with him—she could smell New Hampshire pine needles.

“It's just that I think it's better to get things settled,” she said finally. “One way or the other. So maybe if you talk to her face-to-face…well, you can decide what you want, and we can get this over with.”

“Thea…” Eric stopped, forcing Thea to stop, too. He looked completely bewildered. “Thea—I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't
need
to talk to Blaise to know what I want.” He put his hands gently on her upper arms. “Nothing she can say could make any difference.”

Thea looked at him, at his clean, good features and his expressive eyes. He thought things were so simple.

“Then you can just tell her that,” she said, trying to sound optimistic. “And the whole thing will be resolved.”

Eric shook his head, but allowed her to guide him onward.

Blaise was leaning against a concrete dugout by the baseball diamond. When they were about ten feet away, Thea stopped and nodded at Eric to keep going.

He walked to Blaise, who slowly straightened with the leisurely grace of a snake uncoiling.

Thea put her thumb into the Evian bottle and jiggled it gently.

“Thea said you wanted to talk to me.” Eric's voice was polite, but not encouraging. He looked back at Thea after he said it.

“I did,” Blaise said in her liquid, persuasive voice. But to Thea's surprise, she addressed the ground, as if she felt awkward. “But now…well, I feel so embarrassed. I know what you probably think of me—trying to say something like this while your girlfriend is standing there.”

“Well…” Eric glanced back at Thea again. “It's okay,” he added, his voice softer. “I mean, it's better to say whatever it is in front of her than behind her back.”

“Yes. Yes, that's true.” Blaise took a deep breath as if steeling herself and then lifted her head to meet Eric's eyes.

What on
earth
is she doing? Thea stared at her cousin. Where did this scene come from?

“Eric…I don't know how to say this, but…I care about you. I know how that sounds. You're thinking that I have dozens of guys, and the way I treat them I can't possibly care about any of them. And I don't blame you if you just want to walk away right now, without even listening to any more.” Blaise fiddled with the zipper at her throat.

“Oh, look, I'm not going to walk away. I wouldn't do that to you,” Eric said, and his voice was even more gentle.

“Thank you. You're being so nice—much nicer than I deserve.”

Absently, as if it were the most casual of gestures, Blaise reached for the zipper at her throat and pulled it down.

The necklace was revealed.

Don't look directly at it,
Thea told herself. She stared instead at the back of Eric's sandy head—which suddenly went very still.

“And you know, this is going to sound strange, but most of those boys don't really like me.” Blaise's voice was soft now—seductive but vulnerable. “They just—want me. They look at the surface, and never even try to see any deeper. And that makes me feel…so lonely sometimes.”

In Thea's peripheral vision, gold stars and moons were shifting and flowing. Yemonja root and other delicious scents wafted toward her. She hadn't even noticed that the first time; she'd been too deep in the necklace's spell to analyze it. And a faint, high resonance hung in the air—two or three notes that seemed to shimmer almost above the threshold of hearing.

Singing crystals. Of course. Blaise was assaulting every sense, weaving an inescapable golden web…and the whole thing was tuned to Eric's blood.

“All I've ever wanted is a guy who cares enough about me to look deeper than the surface.” Blaise's voice had a slight catch now. “And—well, before I knew Thea liked you, I guess I thought you might be that guy. Eric, please tell me—is that completely impossible? Should I just totally give up hope? Because if you say so, I will.”

Eric was standing oddly now, as if he were crippled. Thea could see his breath coming faster. She didn't want to see his face—she knew what it would be like. Like Luke's. Blank wonder changing into slow adulation for Blaise.

“Just tell me,” Blaise said, raising one hand in a gesture full of pathos. “And if you say no, I'll go away forever. But if…if you think you could care about me…even just a little…” She gazed at him with luminous, yearning eyes.

“I…” Eric's voice was thick and hesitant. “I…Blaise…” He couldn't seem to get started on a sentence.

And no wonder. He's lost already.

Certainty hit Thea, and she stopped shaking her plastic bottle. Her little Elixir of Abhorrence didn't stand a chance against Blaise's magic. Eric was hooked and Blaise was reeling him in.

And it wasn't his fault. Nobody could be expected to hold out against the kind of enchantment Blaise was using. Enchantment and psychology so beautifully mixed that even Thea found herself half believing Blaise's story.

But she had to try anyway. She couldn't let Eric go without a fight.

With one final, violent shake, Thea took her thumb out of the bottle neck. Colorless liquid skyrocketed, spraying up and then raining down on Eric. A geyser of loathing.

Only one thing went wrong. As soon as the mysterious downpour hit Eric, he turned to see where it was coming from. Instead of looking at Blaise when the elixir soaked into his skin, he was looking at Thea.

She stared back into his gray-flecked eyes with a kind of horror.

Twice. He'd been twice enchanted now, once to love Blaise and once to hate
her.

Oh, Eileithyia, it's over….

It was a crisis, and Thea responded instinctively. She reached for Eric, to save him, to be saved herself. She flung out a thought the way she'd fling out a hand to someone going over a cliff.

Eric.

A connection…

Like closing a circuit—and that was all it took. Thea felt a wave of…
something,
something hot and sweet, more magical than Blaise's magic. Distilled lightning, maybe. The air between her and Eric was so charged that she felt as though her skin was being brushed with velvet. It was like being at the intersection of cosmic force lines.

And it was all okay. Eric's face was his ordinary face. Alive, alert, full of warmth—for her. Not zombie worship for Blaise.

Thea.

It can't be this simple.

But it was. She and Eric were staring at each other in the quivering air and the universe was just one big singing crystal.

We're right together.

A yell shattered the silent communion. Thea looked toward the dugout and saw that Blaise the vulnerable had disappeared.

“I'm
wet,
” Blaise shrieked. “Are you crazy? Do you have any
idea
what water drops do to silk?”

Thea opened her mouth, then shut it again. She felt giddy with the sweetness of relief. She had no idea if Blaise really thought the elixir was only water—but one thing was clear. However strong Blaise's spell had been, it was broken now. And Blaise knew it.

Blaise jerked the zipper up and stalked off.

“She's mad,” Eric said.

“Well…” Thea was still dizzy. “I told you she likes getting mad.” She took Eric's arm, very gently, and partly to steady herself. “Let's go.”

They'd only gone a few steps when Eric said, “Thank God you hit me with that water.”

“Yes.” Even if the elixir hadn't worked, it had somehow broken Eric's concentration or distracted Blaise or something. She'd have to see if she could figure out what had happened to disrupt a spell as potent as the one Blaise had created….

“Yeah, because, you know, it was getting really awkward,” Eric went on. “I kept trying to think of a polite way to tell her there wasn't a chance, but I couldn't. And just when I realized I was going to have to
say
it and hurt her feelings—well, you soaked us.”

Thea stopped dead. She stared at him.

He was serious.

“I mean—I know I hurt her feelings anyway. Or she wouldn't have gone away mad. Uh, are
you
mad now? Thea?”

She started walking again. “Are you saying you didn't even
want
to be with her? Not even just a little?”

He
stopped. “How could I want to be with her when I want to be with you? I told you that before this whole thing started.”

Maybe it's because we're soulmates. Maybe it's because he's so
stubborn.
But, whatever, I'd better never tell Blaise. She'll have a whole new reason for killing him if she finds out her spell bounced off like water off a duck.

“Well, anyway, it's resolved now,” she murmured—and at that moment she really believed it. She was too happy to think about anything dreadful.

“Is it? Does that mean that we can finally go out? Like on a date?”

He sounded so wistful that Thea laughed. She felt light and free and full of energy. “Yeah. We could go right now. Or…we could go
in.
Your house, I mean. I'd like to see your sister and Madame Curie again.”

Eric made an “ouch” face. “Well, Madame Curie would probably like that. But Roz lost her case—the court ruled that the Boy Trekkers are a private organization. And she is not—pardon the pun—a happy camper.”

“All the more reason we should go see her. Poor kid.”

Eric looked at her quizzically. “You're serious? You have a choice of anywhere in Las Vegas and you'd like to go to
my house
?”

“Why not?” Thea didn't mention that a human house was more exotic to her than anywhere else in Vegas.

She was happy.

It turned out to be a modest frame house, shaded by a couple of honest-to-goodness trees, not palms. Thea felt a twinge of shyness as they went inside.

“Mom's still at work. And”—Eric checked his watch—“Roz is supposed to be in her room until five. Home detention. This morning she microwaved her Barbie dolls.”

“That doesn't sound good for the microwave.”

Rosamund's door was plastered with homemade signs.
DO NOT ENTER. KEEP OUT AND THIS MEANS ERIC. FEMINISM IS THE RADICAL NOTION THAT WOMEN ARE PEOPLE
.

When Eric opened the door a piggy bank shaped like a skunk came flying toward him. He ducked. It hit the wall and, amazingly, didn't break.

“Roz—”

“I hate everybody! And everybody hates me!” A hardback book came soaring.

Eric shut the door fast.
Bang.

“Everybody doesn't hate you!” he yelled.

“Well, I hate them!
Go away!
”

Bang. Bang.
Crash.

“I think maybe we'd better leave her alone,” Eric said. “She gets a little moody sometimes. Want to see
my
room?”

His room was nice, Thea decided. Lots of books, some smelling of mildew—“I get them at the used book stores.”
Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy. Development and Structure of the Fetal Pig. The Red Pony.
Most of them were about animals in some form or other.

And lots of trophies. Baseball trophies, basketball trophies, a few tennis trophies. “I have to switch between baseball and tennis different years.” Sports equipment was scattered carelessly around, mixed with the books and some dirty socks.

Not so different from a teenager's room in the Night World. Just a
person's
room.

There was a picture of a man on the desk, a man with sandy hair and a glorious, lightning-bolt smile like Eric's.

“Who is it?”

“My dad. He died when Roz was little—a plane crash. He was a pilot.” Eric said it simply, but his eyes went dark.

Thea said softly, “My parents died when I was little, too. What's sad is that I don't really remember them.”