Darkness Becomes Her

Crank’s head appeared in the open doorway. “Henri’s back.”

I set my backpack and the box on the floor near the dresser and then followed Crank down the stairs, but I stopped midway and stared at the group in the foyer, using the iron railing to steady myself.

The one I guessed was Henri held up a large bag of oranges. Crank and two other kids gathered around him. Henri must’ve been my age or a little older, because he had thin red stubble growing along his jaw and chin. His hair was dark red, uncut, and tied back behind his head. But it was his eyes that made me gasp. Like mine, they weren’t normal. The irises bordered on hazel, but they were too light, too yellow, to be normal. Weren’t they?

Someone stuck a knife into the bag and a few oranges fell out, bumping the floor. Laughter erupted. Crank and the two others dropped down to corral the loose fruit.

The smallest one hunched over, snatched an orange, and then swung her head around to meet my stare. She was small and slight, almost gaunt, with huge black eyes cradled by dark shadows. Her face was tiny, oval, and white, save for the faint pink of her lips. Her shaggy black bob curled under her chin. Resting against her chest, and held there by a small string around her neck, was a gold Mardi Gras mask.

The girl grinned slowly, revealing a small row of white teeth and two very distinct, very tiny. . fangs.

My pulse leaped. I jerked my gaze off the little girl.

Get a grip, Ari.

The group below me became quiet. All staring. At me. My heart pounded. Slowly my hand released the railing and I turned, going woodenly back up the stairs.

What the hell was I doing here?

New 2 was a weird-ass place. I knew that going in, but …

It wasn’t until I was inside the room, walking toward my things, that I heard them talking in whispers, followed a moment later by their footsteps on the stairs.

“Crank said you’re looking for information,” Henri said, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

I picked up my backpack. “Not anymore.”

He entered the room, shaking his head. “What, you were expecting a five-star hotel? A bunch of teens with cell phones and iPods and the latest clothes from Abercrombie and Fitch?”

I bit my tongue rather than tell him that iPods were ancient history and Abercrombie & Fitch went out of business ages ago. I bent down for the box.

“What’s with the gun?”

Shit. I straightened, realizing the 9mm was sticking out of my waistband for the entire world to see. “It’s legal.” But I wasn’t.

“That’s not what I meant.”

I really didn’t want to get into a play-by-play of what I was doing here and why I was armed. Actually, it was becoming pretty obvious I’d made a huge mistake.

Henri blocked my path. Beyond his shoulder Crank and the others stood in the doorway, eyes wide and listening. I backed up and glared at Henri. “Do you mind?”

After a short, tense silence, he threw up his hands and moved aside. “Fine, be my guest. I don’t know how you’re going to get back to The Rim without a ride. Good luck finding a taxi or a Greyhound bus.” The others laughed.

I gave him a twisted smile. “Thanks.” And then stormed around him as the other three scattered from the exit. I was being dramatic and stupid, I knew, but the little girl’s teeth. . Henri’s eyes. . It hit too close to home, made me think of my own weirdness, and it made me want to run like I always did.

My boots slapped hard against each step as I jogged down the stairs, careful to miss the broken one, and wondered why the hell I’d thought this was a good idea. All I wanted was to find out about my mother, and by coming to New 2 and accessing the hospital records, maybe my father’s name. That was all, just a name. An actual family history would be great, but I was smart enough to know that was like reaching for the stars.

And I should have been smart enough to avoid New 2 and wait, like I’d promised, until Bruce and Casey could go with me. But then, I didn’t expect to get that freaky-ass letter from my mother or be attacked by a foreign, disappearing weirdo, either.

I was halfway across the foyer when the front door opened and another guy stepped through.

His head was down, a lock of raven hair shielding his face. One hand held the strap to an old backpack as the other one pushed the door closed behind him. Tall. Six-one, maybe. He had on ratty jeans, black boots, and an old Iron Maiden T-shirt faded to a soft gray. Around his left wrist was a dark leather bracelet with a silver inlaid band.

I froze. Like a total moron.

His head came up, and I was met with the most startling gray eyes I’d ever seen. In my peripheral vision, I saw his backpack slowly slide out of his hand and hit the floor.

My mouth went paper dry, too dry to swallow. Heat engulfed my face and the small of my back. His black eyebrows were drawn into a scowl that gave him a slightly sinister appearance, but they were in definite contrast to the soulful eyes framed with thick, inky black lashes. He had a nice face, one that I’d bet could go from poet to tough guy depending on his mood. His lips were naturally darker than most, and they tightened as his eyes continued to narrow. His jaw flexed. I stepped back, feeling odd, like he could see inside of me, like he knew what I was.

“They’re already looking for you, you know.”

Four

ALUMP ROSE IN MY THROAT, AND I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF the blade-wielding maniac. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard the skin split, releasing warm, iron-rich blood onto my tongue. “Who’s looking for me?”

“The Novem.”

“Yeah,” I said, putting two and two together, “they already tried to kill me once. I won’t let them get that close a second time.”

His brows drew together. “The Novem doesn’t want to kill you.”

Crank came around me and jumped onto the long table against the wall, sitting on it and swinging her feet. “He’s right, you know.”

I shook my head, not understanding. “How would you know?”

“’Cause Sebastian’s my brother, and he knows everything that happens in New 2. It’s his job to know.” I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to at least agree, but he stayed silent. “Bas works for the Novem. They pay him to run messages, get info, that sort of thing.” Crank twisted her cabbie hat backward. “So who’s really after you, Ari? Does it have anything to do with that bloody sword in your backpack?”

I let my eyelids close slowly and then counted to five. I had killed a man. Seen him disappear. There was a tiny Goth girl with fangs. And now the Novem might or might not be after me. I was guessing “might,” no matter what Crank said.

How the hell did I get into this mess? No, this wasn’t my mess, this was my mother’s. And I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know the truth anymore. I pulled my cell phone from the holder on my waist. Bruce would come get me. He’d be mad as hell, but he’d come.

“Cell phones don’t work in New 2,” Henri said from behind me.

I glanced at the display. No signal. “Fine. Is there a phone or a pay phone somewhere I can use?”

“Newbies,” a boy around Crank’s age muttered, sitting on one of the steps to peel his orange. He was so odd-looking that he distracted me for a second. Light brown skin. Green eyes. And a short dark blond Afro. Even his eyebrows were blond.

“Unless you got money or connections, no phones, no Internet. Nothing but running water, electricity, and mail runners,” Henri said. “Welcome to New 2.”

“Ari was born at Charity Hospital. She wants to find her records. You can help with that, can’t you, Bas?” Crank asked her brother.