smile and don’t freak out.
I freaked anyway, but only inside my head where no one could see. I could feel the gaze, as sharp as a knife stabbing into my skin. He or she was still close by, and watching.
Although my shirt had dried, goose bumps rippled across my skin. My chill had more to do with fear than the weather, although with the sun dropping the temps had cooled. Nervously, I scanned the street and sidewalk for any sign of red hair. There was a bald guy walking his dog and an elderly couple holding hands while they waited to cross the street. No one suspicious … yet the feeling persisted.
Remembering advice from a book on self-defense, I shifted the car keys in my right hand, knuckling my fingers and positioning the longest key to poke out like a weapon. Of course a key wouldn’t protect me from a gun. I had to stay alert and close to other people. I listened anxiously for pursuing footsteps. But traffic whizzed by, making it impossible to hear more than my own thoughts.
So I stopped, bending over in a pretense of tying my shoe, taking a long look around me. But there was no one suspicious.
Puffing out a relieved breath, I straightened and shrugged off my fears. You’re losing it, Amber, I told myself. Imagining monsters and stalkers around every corner is the kind of behavior that results in straightjackets and padded cells. By now the red-haired girl was probably snug in her dorm back in San Jose.
Still, when I spotted Sadie’s car, I practically raced toward it. I popped open the trunk and grabbed Sharayah’s suitcase. Then I snooped — sifting through shirts, pants, lacy underwear, silky bras, and a low-cut, ruby-red shortie nightgown. There were assorted hygienic items, too, like toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, breath mints and a box of tampons. Nothing interesting — although I was pleased to find the navy blue windbreaker, which I immediately put on. Then I grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants, which I slipped over the tiny purple thong. There were pockets, and since I’d been uncomfortable carrying so much money in a purse, I shoved Sharayah’s wallet in the deep pocket of the sweat pants and hid the purse (with all that cash) in the suitcase.
I had just slammed the suitcase shut when I heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep behind me. Before I could turn around, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
A gloved hand.
11
“Been looking for you, Party Girl,” Warren said with a sly smile and a drunken slur in his voice.
Whirling around, I jumped back and stared nervously at his gloves, imagining gray fingers underneath the leather. I backed away, holding out the point of the car key.
“Don’t call me that.” I tried to sound tough, but my voice came out like a squeak.
“Hey, I’m just being friendly.” He towered over me like a brawny mountain, and even though Sharayah was a tall girl, I felt as small and defenseless as a mouse.
“I’m kind of busy right now,” I added with a gesture to the open trunk.
“Too busy to hear your friend’s message?”
“Which friend?” I asked warily.
“The one with weird hair.”
“You mean Mauve?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “She asked me to find and bring you to her.”
“Thanks, but you can tell her I’ll wait here for her like we planned.”
“Plans change.” He leaned forward against the car, smiling in a way that gave me chills. “Relationships change, too. Like even if there is some other guy, I can’t ignore this vibe growing between us.”
“What vibe?” I asked, a little scared. “I told you I have a boyfriend.”
“Lucky guy. You’re looking really fine.”
“I’m a soggy mess,” I said as pushed back my wet hair and zipped up the windbreaker.
“I like your natural look.”
But I didn’t like the unnatural look he was giving me — like he could see right through my windbreaker. Or was he something more? When he stared at me, was he seeing an otherworldly glow that was invisible to normal humans? Take off your gloves, I wanted to say. If I could see his hands, I’d know if he was a Dark Lifer. Since suspicions weren’t proof, I had to find out for sure before I tried to alert the Dark Disposal Team.
The street that seemed chaotic a moment ago was now eerily quiet — empty crosswalks with no pedestrians, and only a few passing cars.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out for me.
I jumped back and shook my head. “I’d rather wait here.”
“But Pink Hair specifically asked me to bring you.”
“Tell Mauve I have other things to do,” I told him hastily. “I’ll catch up with her later.”
“And miss the party?” He folded his arms across his chest, frowning at me.
“What party?”
“What’d ya think I’m here for? Mauve asked me to bring you too. Don’t make them wait, okay? Come on.”
“Is Sadie there, too?”
“Who?” He scrunched his forehead as if he’d forgotten flirting with Sadie. “Oh, yeah,” he said with a nod. “She’s there, too.”
I leaned against the car, reluctant to go anywhere with him. “I thought Mauve and Alonzo were headed for a sushi restaurant.”
“No one told me about that, but I guess they changed their minds. Ask them yourself.” His shrug drew my gaze to his beefy shoulders and muscular arms. Underneath his gloves I knew his hands would be strong, too. “It’s gonna be one hell of a party. You don’t want to miss out.”
Actually, I did, but Sharayah wouldn’t refuse so I couldn’t either. I nodded reluctantly as I slammed the trunk.
When he reached for my hand, I pretended not to notice and turned away. I held tight to the car keys, the sharpest key still between my fingers, as I walked away from the car, resting my hand and the keys in my jacket pocket. I felt his gaze keenly on me. I resented his attitude toward Sadie — acting like he didn’t even remember being with her in the car for over an hour. Dark Lifer or not, he creeped me out and I wasn’t going to get near him.
I expected him to go to the crowded beach where I’d sunned earlier, but he veered away from the ocean onto a paved walking path.
“Isn’t the party at the beach?” I asked.
“No, even better. It’s in a private room.”
The path curved, leading away from the hustle and the voices drifting on beach breezes toward an area of small buildings. As afternoon dimmed to early evening, the burnished-gold sun sunk below the horizon and the wind whipped stronger, swirling sand and bits of trash across the path. In an opening between buildings, I could see distant fierce waves crashing against the beach. In a short time, we’d traveled very far away from spring break action.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked uneasily.
“I told you — a party.”
“But there’s nothing out this way.” I gestured to the blocky warehouse buildings surrounding us.
“The best parties take place behind closed doors after the sun goes down. We’ll have music, piles of food and booze. It’s just past that tall building.”
“I don’t hear any voices. You sure this is the right way?” I asked, frowning.
“Party central here we are,” he said as we reached a squat building called
“A bike rental shop?” I questioned.
