Unchosen. Part 3

My nemesis pushed a silky red tress behind her ear, offered us less studious peons an arrogant smile, and said, "Lord Manning is the representation of corrupted magic."

"Ah! Exactly."

Clarissa swung around and gave me a smarmy grin. I put my hand under the desk and wiggled my fingers until she looked at them.

I flipped her off.

She glared at me, and returned to her note-taking. And I returned to my skull doodle, adding a jaunty pirate hat while Dr. Mayfair droned on about necromancy gone awry in fifteenth century England.

Mercifully, end-of-cla.s.s bells chimed, and we all scooted from our seats. I threw my notebook and pen into my bag, lobbed it over my shoulder, and headed for the door.

"Miss Bartolucci. A word, please."

c.r.a.p. I look longingly at the doorway, escape mere steps away, and then I dutifully turned around. "Yes, Dr. Mayfair?"

"You're a bright girl, Molly. I know not everyone is as enthusiastic about necro lit as I am, but this is a core cla.s.s required for graduation. Paying attention to details will benefit you-not only in this cla.s.s, but in other areas as well."

"Okay," I said. She lifted a brow, so I added, "I'll pay closer attention from now on. Promise."

Dr. Mayfair looked at me, and I got the feeling she was trying to convey something more important than understanding metaphors written by authors long dead. In fact, she held my gaze for so long, I started to feel uneasy. "Is there something else, Dr. Mayfair?" I asked.

Dr. Mayfair blinked, as though she hadn't realized just how hard she'd been staring at me. She pulled back a little and placed her pale hand on desk's edge. I noticed that her fingers trembled.

"Did you know they made a movie about Keep Thy Soul?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"I believe it came out in 1942. The film is black and white, and three hours long. They modernized the language, of course, but it's still a fair representation of Parker's excellent novel." She straightened in her chair, and then waved me off. "Don't be late to your next cla.s.s." She grabbed a red pen and attacked the student papers neatly stacked in front of her.

I was apparently dismissed.

I left the cla.s.sroom, wondering why Dr. Mayfair let me know about the movie-and why didn't I think of that already-and if I was just imagining the undertone of her "pay attention to details" message. These days, it was difficult to have a conversation without searching for hidden meanings and secret messages. Yep. Just another fab component of being the daughter of Anubis.

I LANDED ON my backside, and pain edged up my spine. I thought about climbing to my feet and letting Rath pummel me some more, but I was too tired.

"What's the matter, brown eyes? You quittin'?"

"Yeah," I said. Sweat dripped down my neck. We'd been training for more than hour, and with another hour to go for my "independent study" cla.s.s, I figured I could take a breather. Plus, I didn't want to get up.

To my surprise Rath lay down on his back beside me, close enough so that the tip of his fingers touched mine.

"You thinking about him?"

Him. Rick Widdenstock. First crush. First kiss. First soul. I had screwed up so bad. "Yeah. I guess so," I said.

The guilt was still there, but those feelings for Rick? I didn't know. We hadn't been together long enough to have a real relationship. I had changed so much from the girl who had wanted Rick. And at the end? Rick's feelings hadn't compelled him to stay close to me. I had done that with my reaper magic-without even knowing it. He was my thrall, not my boyfriend.

Rath said nothing, and the silence between us was as thick as poisoned honey.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," he said, his voice gruff.

I rolled onto my side and propped my head up, so that I faced Rath. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

"I feel awful about everything I put him through ... and sure, there's grief there, too." I struggled with how to express what I felt-jeez, I needed one of Dr. Mayfair's metaphors. "I can't say my heart wanted Rick then, much less now."

Rath glanced at me. "Yeah? What does your heart want?"

You. I licked my lips, drawing Rath's attention to my mouth. Something sharp and electric zigzagged through me. I didn't have the courage to tell him that I liked him. I thought that maybe I should tell him about the dream, but ... well, it didn't feel like a good idea. And it really didn't feel like a good idea to go all I heart you Sooooo much on him, either.

"I don't know what I want," I said. "Not yet, anyway. I'm still trying to figure it all out."

His gaze warmed, and a smile tugged his lips. "I'll be here when you do." He rolled to his feet, and then gestured at me to c'mon. "Let's go, brown eyes. You really need to practice your tuck and rolls."

I groaned. Tuck and rolls were my least favorite move. It had taken forever for me to learn how to do one from a standing position, and half the time, I still face-planted.

I climbed to my feet.

"Don't give me the puppy-dog look," he said.

I jutted out my lip and pretended to sniffle.

"Lame," he said, stifling laughter. He made his expression serious, but he couldn't quite extinguish the twinkle in his eyes. "Ten in a row, brown eyes. Go!"

"MEETING," SNAPPED CLARISSA. She and her two favorite minions stood in front me, blocking me from moving forward with my tray of food. Over her shoulder, I looked longingly at the lunch table where all my friends sat. I could see them staring me. Barbie lifted her hands in a WTF gesture, and all I could do was shake my head.

Every day this week, Clarissa had pulled last-minute meeting bullc.r.a.p. Since Clarissa had a leadership position in the society, she liked to throw her weight around-especially at me. I couldn't explain to my friends why I was even talking to wicked b.i.t.c.h of the west, so I told them we'd been a.s.signed as lab partners for a science project.

"Another lunchtime meeting?" I asked. "What's on the agenda today? Make-up tips? Shoe advice? Why red is the color of evil?"

Clarissa rolled her eyes and tossed her red hair. "Well, I'm sorry the business of the Nekros Society is s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up your social life. You could always quit, Molly. Then you wouldn't have to worry about little things like saving the world."

Her minions giggled.

I looked at them. "Don't you have an appointment with the 1980s ... you know, to give those dresses back?"

Their expressions went as hard as stone. Accusing someone in Clarissa's circle of bad fashion was akin to declaring war. They both smoothed their stripped dresses with the triangular shoulder pads. Their hair was slicked and braided into long ropes. They were almost twin-like, except one was short and blonde and the other tall and brunette. The blonde lifted her finger and I saw a thin line of glittery black magic sprout from her nail, coiling like a pet snake around her hand. She hissed at me, raising that finger, but Clarissa grabbed her arm.

"Knock it off," demanded Clarissa. "You want to get sanctioned? You know the rules. No reaper magic outside of training."

Oh, sure. Like Clarissa was all about following the rules, even though the first day I met her, she used her magic to trip me and humiliate me.

"Every member has been called to the temple." Clarissa's smile was thin, and as shiny as a blade. "Daddy has an announcement."

"Fine. Whatever." I maneuvered around her and the evil twins, and hurried to the table where my friends waited for me.

Barbie, who was dressed in black lace and striped leggings, glared at me. The kohl around her eyes was extra heavy and she wore scarlet red lipstick. "What the h.e.l.l did her highness want this time? Does she need help clipping her talons?"

"It's that stupid lab thing," I said. "I can't stay for lunch."

"Shocker," said Barbie. She looked down and contemplated her ketchup-bathed French fries. "Have fun with your new BFF."

Argh! It seemed I'd been spending most of my time feeling bad-and right now was no exception. I hated ditching my friends, and I really hated lying to them.

"You still up for tonight?" asked Autumn.

"My room is your room," I said. "Movie night is on."

"My dad brought home snake jerky from Cambodia," said Daniel. As usual, he wore his special sungla.s.ses. As an ib heka, he could see a person's true worth. It was a rare necro power and one that had to be used carefully. He was the only dude in our friend zone-sorta the Eeyore of our group.

"Uh, no," said Trina. Trina was dark as cocoa with long silky black hair that fell past her shoulders. She wore her favorite color: pink. Today, it was a shimmery white tank with pink polka dots tucked into skinny pink jeans. "If you bring that c.r.a.p to movie night, I will cut you."

We all laughed.

Daniel shrugged. "It's good," he said. "You're missing out."

Autumn threw a balled-up napkin at him, which bounced off Daniel's head and landed in Barbie's messy fries. She sighed and flicked the napkin off her food. "Gee. Thanks."

"I gotta go." I looked down at my supreme nachos, and mourned the loss of cheesy calories. "Anybody want my-"

"Girl, you know I want those." Trina lifted her hands in a "gimme" gesture. I handed Trina my tray, and she wasted no time digging in to my lunch.

"See you tonight," I said.

Everyone said bye, and I trudged out of the cafeteria, p.i.s.sed at Clarissa for the umpteenth time since I'd been at Nekyia. Not only was she ruining my social life (what little I had these days), but I just knew she'd been the one to plant the soul box in my dorm room. She had the number-one motive: get rid of her compet.i.tion.

The temple was near the school, but it was underground and could only be accessed if you knew the way to the entrance and if you knew the magic pa.s.swords to open the carved stone door.

The secret headquarters of the Nekros Society had been built at the same time as the school, except the temple was created inside a natural cavern. The temple was covered in wall reliefs that told the stories of Anubis and his reapers.

Getting to the temple meant going outside, entering the woods, and walking downhill on a path most people used to go down to the lake. About halfway down this path, I veered off and continued to a small hillside. Hidden by illusionary magic, I walked through what appeared to be a pile of brush and fallen trees. Then I pushed on the hidden door and uttered the magical pa.s.sword.

The rock-carved staircase was lit by blue-flamed torches. As I descended, I heard conversations rumbling and shoes scuffing as restless teens awaited the great Mac Jacobs' "announcement" in the main area of the temple.

The flames suddenly went wild-dancing as though tormented by wind. I felt a swish of cold and in front of me, a flash of inky darkness that quickly disappeared.

Had a reaper entered the temple?

I was reminded about the first time I met Rath. At my Sweet Sixteen party, I'd felt that same kind of chill and saw the same kind of black flash-right before I noticed Rath leaning against the wall, with a smile that cut like broken gla.s.s.

"Rath," I whispered.

Molly, you idiot. Rath wouldn't have to sneak in to the temple. And I don't think he'd show himself to me as a freaky shadow, even if he did.

The flames returned to their normal flickering, and I shook off the experience. I don't know if the shadow meant for me to see it at all. Now, I needed to worry about whether or not an unknown reaper, or maybe even Anput, or worse, something Set sent, had infiltrated the temple. I mean what- Aunt Lelia.

The only moving inkblot I'd seen before this one was the sheut of my long dead Aunt Lelia. She'd left the earthly plane when I was six months old, and for reasons I had yet to discover, she had been enslaved by Set as a sheut. A sheut was the shadow of a person's soul-stripped from its other parts and controlled by the type of heka magic that usually caused trouble.

I didn't know if that shadow thingie was Aunt Lelia or not. Aunt Lelia's visits weren't exactly the warm and fuzzy kind. She was always warning me about impending doom. I had noticed that she was getting weaker as Set got stronger, and seemed in pain-tormented-when she did manage to visit me.

It was time I found out more about Aunt Lelia-and my mom. n.o.body would talk to me about our mysterious family tree, but I did know that my grandparents had disowned Cynthia Briarstock Bartolucci. Oh, and let us not forget about the still circulating school rumors that Mom hooked up with a teacher and got preggers (with me, ugh).

Right now, what mattered most was that I didn't want my Aunt Lelia to suffer. So, I had to figure out a way to free her from Set's control. You know, along with preventing Set from destroying all mankind. And I really need to pa.s.s my next Algebra exam.

Hmm. I better prioritize my to-do list.

I reached the end of the staircase, and I jumped the last step. Thinking about sheuts, Aunt Lelia, Mom, and Set had upped my heebie jeebie factor by ten. I took a couple of steps, and stumbled to an abrupt stop. My whole body tingled with heat, with nausea. A pit opened in my belly, and my stomach wobbled, a stern threat to puking. I put my hand against the nearest wall and drew in a shuddering breath. I felt like Jell-O in an earthquake.

I sank to my knees.

My vision blurred.

My heart pounded.

I clutched at the wall, and tried to breathe.

Just. Breathe.

I fell forward, on my hands and knees now, trying to get my lungs to work.

I teetered to my side and collapsed against the rough stone floor.

I saw the shadow emerge from the floor and take a more human shape. A female shape. It-she-turned toward me. She wasn't tall, but she was lean and fit, and dressed in a tight black pant suit that reminded me of a Cat Woman Halloween costume. Silver daggers glittered dangerously from their tucked positions on her belt. She wore a dark leather jacket with a large cowl that covered her head. The only thing I could discern from her hidden face was the glittering maliciousness of her smile.

Familiarity stabbed me.

I knew her.

She withdrew one of the knives, and glided toward me.

"S-stop," I pleaded. "Stop. Please."

Then I saw Mac Jacobs slink away from the other side of the staircase, his face mottled and his lips moving. His gaze was on me, and those green eyes were filled with hate. A deep and terrible hate.

Mr. Jacobs was trying to kill me, too?

He walked forward, his hands out as though he planned on choking the rest of the air from my lungs.

The woman whirled around, and stepped in front of Mr. Jacobs.

"Don't be a fool," she snarled. "She's mine. She's always been mine."

"You made your choice," he said. "Return to your master, slave."

The woman froze. She snarled, her hands going up, as though she planned on hitting him-or casting a spell. Then her fingers curled inward. Her body twisted, dissolving into an oily puddle that splashed onto the floor ... and disappeared.

Air flowed into my lungs, and I could breathe again. As I sucked in as much oxygen as I could, the wobbling nausea in my stomach gurgled, and my head ached with lightning strikes of pain. Amid all this physical awfulness came the snaking cold of fear. It slid through my limbs, coiled in my belly, wrapped around my heart.

As his gaze landed on me, Mr. Jacobs' self-satisfied smirk dissolved. Then he hurried forward.