Vicarious (15 page)

Our eyes meet. He sets two of the knives on the stool and lifts the third one high in the air. Fear races through my veins as the overhead lights glint off the blade. The thrower kisses the tip of the blade and then rears back his arm. A sharp thunk sounds from the area of my left ear. He lifts the second knife with an exaggerated flourish. My whole body tenses. He throws again. This one thunks to the right of my head. The third knife lands between my legs.

I pause the recording for a second, holding one hand to my chest in a feeble attempt to slow my racing heart. I can't believe my sister recorded this ViSE without a blindfold. It wouldn't have been nearly as exciting without the sense of sight, but still. I got so enthralled by it I forgot I was supposed to be looking for clues.

I start the recording again, trying my best to study the faces of the performers and audience members, looking for anyone who seems familiar or out of place.

The thrower's assistant fetches the knives from the wooden circle. She returns to his side and pulls out her blindfold again.

“Now do you want a blindfold?” the man asks.

I shake my head as the assistant blindfolds him. The audience gasps. My body goes tense with fear.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. This time the knives land on either side of my chest and above my head. The assistant retrieves them again and returns them to the still-blindfolded knife thrower.

“And now, for the pièce de résistance,” the knife thrower starts.

A stagehand comes up and double-checks the leather straps holding me to the wheel. Then he straps the assistant to a second set of buckles so her body is perpendicular to mine.

“I will take a blindfold,” she says. “I am not as brave as our audience volunteer.”

There is a rustling noise as the crowd whispers again. The assistant's body is pressed against mine, pinning me tightly against the wooden wheel. And then the stagehand gives a lever on the side of the wheel a sharp yank. I close my eyes for a second as I start to move. But then I open them. The room is spinning. The crowd is gasping. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The knives hit in rapid succession. The audience cheers.
I expel a sharp breath. My muscles go weak with relief. The stagehand helps both of us off the wheel. I smooth the wrinkles from my form-fitting dress and lift a hand to my head to make sure my wig is still tightly pinned in place. The crowd rises to its feet as the assistant and I sashay into the spotlight. The knife thrower meets us center stage.

Movement at the side of the auditorium catches my eye. It's just a silhouette, thanks to the harsh stage lights, but I see a guy in a long coat and a hat turn and head up the far aisle. My temples begin to pound, the pain radiating to my forehead.

Nausea begins to well in my gut. My phone rings. I ignore it. I need to see who is in the coat.

I try to focus on the shadowy figure but it's impossible because Rose isn't interested in him. She's linking arms with the knife thrower and his assistant, taking multiple bows while the audience cheers.

My phone rings again. I pause the ViSE and open my eyes slowly. The pounding at my temples is crescendoing now. My stomach is roiling violently.

“Hello?” I say, my voice wavering slightly.

It's Jesse. “Hey. Just wanted to let you know I'm coming back up. Are you going to Zoo?”

“Can you hold on for a minute?” I ask. Dropping the phone before he has a chance to respond, I rush to the bathroom, fall to my knees, and vomit into the toilet. My nausea quickly subsides, but my headache still lingers. I rinse my mouth out with warm water, and then make my way back to my bedroom.

Collapsing on my bed, I grab my phone again. “All right, I'm back.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. And yes, I'm going to Zoo. Andy is picking me up around ten.”

“I want to come with you,” Jesse says.

“I can handle Andy Lynch,” I say sharply. “You don't need to worry.”

“Please, Winter?”

I expected Jesse to threaten to call Gideon if I didn't let him have his way. This one-word plea takes me by surprise. Affection stirs in my chest, an unfamiliar feeling. I soften. “Fine, you can come, but I don't know if Andy's going to be able to get you in or not.”

“It's not really my scene, anyway. If he can't, I'll just prowl around outside waiting for you, but at least I'll be nearby if you need me.”

“All right. Dress as nice as possible just in case. Zoo is pretty strict with the dress code.”

“Got it,” Jesse says. “I don't have much in the way of clubbing clothes. I might have to go buy something. Should I bring my headset?”

“No. You don't need to. I can wear one of Rose's wigs.”

“Okay. See you later. Call me in the meantime if you need anything.”

“I will.” I hang up the phone and finish the circus recording, but the guy in the coat and hat is gone. I remove my headset and label the memory card with a 3. I tuck the notebook and Rose's music box into the locked cabinet where I keep my recorder headset and copies of my own ViSEs. Tomorrow I'll play the rest of her recordings. I wish I could do them all now, but the overlay is hitting me too hard. If I push it, the pain and nausea will dilute my focus and I could miss something important.

Besides, it's time to find an outfit to wear to Zoo. Like Jesse, I don't own any clothes fancy enough to get me into the city's most popular club, so I venture back into my sister's room and head for her closet.

I skim past the first three garments—including the dress with the fringe I thought she was wearing last night. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to envision her outside the bathroom again, spinning in front of the full-length mirror. I lift the scarlet fabric to my face for a closer look. I know it was this dress. Why would she have come home and changed?

Sighing, I flip past the last couple dresses until my hand stops at a short, silky number at the very back of the closet that's more free flowing than form fitting. Like most of Rose's dresses, it's red. I hold it up against me in the mirror. I look like a totally different person, but not one that scares me. I remove my long-sleeved T-shirt and pull the dress over my head.

I flinch at my exposed collarbones, but at least my bra isn't showing. Undoing the zipper of my jeans, I slide them down, immediately feeling the softness of silk against my skin. Stepping out of the bunched-up denim, I give the bottom of the dress a hard tug. The flowing fabric falls to the middle of my thighs and that's as low as it's going to go. Hesitantly, I peek into the mirror again. I know I look fine, but my breath sticks in my throat. Sweat glistens on my upper lip. There's no way I can leave the house dressed like this.

I duck back into Rose's closet to look for other options and notice a pair of black leggings balled up on the floor. My breathing returns to normal as I slide them on. Better. I start looking for a pair of shoes to match.

In addition to the pair of strappy heels she has tucked inside the front door, she's got five other pairs of shoes tossed haphazardly on the floor of her closet, three of which are so tall and sparkly that they look like part of a circus performer's uniform. I find some black suede boots with a medium heel and decent ankle support. Shaking out my hair, I let it fall forward so the edges skim my shoulders and then apply my standard eyeliner. I'm ready.

Except I forgot about my headset.

I pull my hair into a low ponytail and then grab my headset from my room and slide it on. Heading back into Rose's room, I don the wavy black wig and adjust it so it hides the metal prongs. Soft tendrils curl around my face. I peek at myself in the mirror—not too bad—and then check the clock. It's only nine thirty. There's plenty of time to walk over to Inferno and find out if anyone there saw Rose last night.

*   *   *

Inferno
is only a parking lot away, but my skin is red and raw from the frigid wind by the time I slip into the building. The lobby is decorated all in red and black—art deco, minimalist, as simple as Gideon's building is opulent. Stairs at the back of the lobby lead down into the club. There's no line yet since it's still early. There's not even a bouncer.

I've been to Inferno a couple of times, but only when I was looking for my sister. I glance around, my eyes lingering on the tongues of fire painted on the walls. Clubs are apparently wasted on me. I don't understand why anyone would pay to hang out here. A few couples cluster together at the bar, sipping drink specials and tapping their feet to the techno rhythm. I take a seat next to them and wait for the bartender to approach me.

She sidles over with a bright red beverage napkin. “Can I see some ID?”

“I'm just looking for someone,” I say. “My sister. A blond Korean in a red dress. I'm trying to find out if she came in here last night.”

“Doesn't sound familiar,” the bartender says. “Sure you don't want a drink? Maybe a soda or something?”

I slap a twenty-dollar bill down on the bar. “Does that help your memory at all?”

She eyes the money greedily. “You got a picture?”

I show her the cell phone picture as the music bleeds from one song into the next. A girl starts dancing all alone in the center of the room.

The bartender nods. “Yeah. I've seen her in here before. She's a switch-party girl, right?”

“Yes. Did you see her last night?”

“Oh, I didn't work last night.” She smirks as she pockets the twenty.

Bitch
. “Is anyone here who
did
work last night?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“You want Julian,” she says. “Let me get him for you.” She disappears into the back.

A few minutes later, a skinny guy with inky black hair and a tattoo of a pentagram on his temple slinks out of the kitchen. “You looking for Julian?” he asks.

“Yes. I'm also looking for my sister.” I slap a second twenty-dollar bill down on the bar and show him the picture of Rose on my phone.

“Oh, Lily,” he says. “Yeah, she comes in here some.” He glances left and right, wringing his hands like he's either nervous or strung out on something.

It makes sense that Rose went by her alias at Inferno since she sometimes recorded ViSEs here. “Did you see her last night?”

Julian shakes his head rapidly, his pupils dilating. “I think she said something about stopping by, but she didn't make it, unless I missed her.”

I slip my phone back in my pocket. “She's a hard person to miss.”

“She's not in trouble, is she? Lily has always been cool to me.” He grins—a mouth full of yellowing teeth. “She's a solid tipper.”

I write my phone number on the red napkin left by the other bartender. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

I head out into the cold and back across the parking lot. I barely make it back to the penthouse before someone is knocking. It's Andy. When I open the door, he stares at me a little longer than I would like.

I hug my arms across my chest. “I don't look good enough to get in, do I?” Maybe the leggings are too casual. Or maybe I need more makeup.

“No, you look great,” he says. “It's just weird to see someone else wearing her clothes.”

“Do you care if my friend comes with us?” I grab Rose's coat from the hall closet. “I told him you might be able to get him in. It's either that or he's going to call every five minutes to check up on me.”

Andy shrugs. “The more the merrier.”

Jesse shows up less than a minute later. To my surprise, he's wearing a pair of dark suit pants and a dress shirt made of some kind of shiny turquoise material. His hair is combed forward, the left side carefully arranged to hide most of his disfigured ear. I've never seen him look so polished—almost like a different person.

“You look beautiful,” he tells me.

This time I resist the urge to cross my arms. “You look nice too.” I smile tightly.

“Yeah, you both look great.” Andy shakes his bangs back from his face. “We should have no problem getting in. I showed up for Zoo's grand opening back in November. They love me over there.” He looks back and forth from Jesse to me. “So what are we looking for again?”

“According to my sister's friend, a guy in a long gray leather coat and a black fedora, who may or may not have been following Rose,” I say, realizing exactly how absurd it sounds. “Or anything weird.”

“I'm sure there will be no shortage of weird,” Jesse says.

 

CHAPTER 15

He's
right. It turns out tonight is a special “Blackout at the Zoo” theme night. There are the same cages of dancing and fighting, only now the entire club is dark, lit only by rotating black lights in the ceiling and sparse emergency lighting around the perimeter.

“We're never going to find anyone in this,” Jesse says. “The dude could be up on a pedestal in one of the cages and we wouldn't be able to see him.”

I'm about to agree when someone shouts, “Lynch!” A guy the size and shape of a refrigerator taps Andy on the shoulder. I'm guessing he's one of Andy's teammates. “I need to talk to you about something.” The guy gestures toward the back of the club.

“Be right back.” Andy lets the guy tow him toward the VIP room.

Jesse and I lean against the wall, watching the dancers sway under the undulating purple lights.

“It's kind of pretty.” The first thought that jumps into my head.

Jesse brushes the sides of Rose's wig back from my face. “You're kind of pretty.” His lips hover close to my earlobe so I can hear him over the music.

“Not compared to these girls.” Everywhere I look, lithe supermodel types parade around in obscenely short dresses and tall high heels. So much skin. It makes me wish I could have worn some leggings on my arms too.