Unchosen. Part 6

Something raw and vulnerable flashed in Clarissa's blue eyes, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. "Save your armchair psychology for your loser friends. And leave my dad alone. He didn't do anything to you. You're just ... weak."

I suddenly realized that Clarissa's faith in her father had been shaken. And here she was, trying to make herself feel better by bullying me. I hated to admit that I felt sympathy for her. I understood that her father probably pushed her hard-probably way too hard.

Unfortunately, that fact didn't make Clarissa any less of a b.i.t.c.h.

At some point, you had to stop blaming the people around you and accept that you're responsible for yourself, your choices, and your mistakes.

Or so I've been told by every adult in the history of ever.

"Believe what you want," I said. "Your dad came after me." I stood up. "If he does it again, I'll be ready. So maybe you should tell him to leave me alone."

Clarissa stiffened and her expression became thunderous. Then she sucked in a breath and slowly stood, her fists clenching. "The compet.i.tion will prove which one of us is the real champion," she said. "It'll just be you and me, Molly. And I will win."

Clarissa's arrogance was boundless-no doubt that quality was another gift from her awful father. I strode to my door and yanked it open. "Get out."

"Gladly." She marched forward, and then she hesitated. She glanced at me, her expression more anxious than angry. "Just ... watch your back."

Clarissa left. I slammed the door and locked it.

Watch your back. Her tone hadn't been hostile. She'd sounded more worried ... almost like she was giving me friendly advice. That didn't make sense. As hungry as Clarissa was for the ultimate prize, she wouldn't do something stupid like warn me.

Would she?

I wrestled with my thoughts for a few moments more, and then gave up. Clarissa and her father could go jump off a cliff for all I cared. I needed to focus on my own goals. Right now, goal one was a long, hot bubble bath followed by goal two of painting my toes neon blue.

"WE REALLY NEED to stop letting Autumn pick the movies," said Barbie.

"Oh, c'mon," protested Autumn. "Casablanca is a cla.s.sic!"

"There wasn't a single zombie in there. Booooooring!"

"You need some romance in your dark, decrepit soul," said Autumn. Four of her ghosts floated above her head, engaged in a card game. Every so often, I heard one say, "Go fish."

"No, I need more cheese doodles in mah belly." Barbie rolled off her bean bag, and pointed at the only dude in our group. "Hand 'em over, Danny."

"Don't call me Danny," said Daniel in his usual deadpan tone. He gave her the half-empty bag of orange puffs, and Barbie happily shoved three into her mouth.

"Well, at least she'll shut up for a minute," said Autumn.

"Grag-ug-ew-blah!" yelled Barbie. She swallowed. "So there!"

We laughed, and then pelted Barbie with a.s.sorted snacks. Popcorn, potato chips, and M&Ms. .h.i.t their target. Barbie looked down at her lap and picked up an M&M. "Thank you all for your donations. Your recognition of my awesomeness is appreciated-and expected."

"Oh, ya'll!" Autumn got up, turned off the TV, and ejected the DVD. "I gotta get some sleep. I'm plum tuckered out."

"Plum tuckered," mimicked Trina. She also stood, and brushed crumbs off her pink-striped shirt. "Why don't you just say 'tired'?"

Autumn put her hands on her hips, the DVD case sticking out from her left hand like an odd appendage. "I did."

"Oh, goodie. Trina and Autumn are engaged in another round of 'speak English, ya fool'." Barbie pretended to hold a microphone. She pointed it toward Daniel. "What's the score so far, Dan-O?"

"Zero to zero," said Daniel. "And don't call me Dan-O."

Barbie stuck her tongue at him, which was orange. Her childish gesture earned an eye roll from "Dan-O."

I watched my friend's playful bickering with a sense of gladness. I felt (almost) normal. For once, I was able to hang out with my friends without having to back out, make up a lame excuse, or see Clarissa's stupid face.

"All right, guys," said Trina. "I have an announcement."

We all turned toward her.

Trina's expression was one of excitement.

"Oh, holy s.h.i.t," said Barbie. "They must've come out with a new shade of pink."

"No," said Trina. "But that would be cool." She clasped her hands in front of her, and her mouth split into a wide grin. "I'm moving to Europe!"

"What!" I exclaimed. "Are you kidding?"

"I would never kid about the land of fashion." Trina did a hip-shaking dance. Then she laughed. "My dad is opening a new Ghoul-AID factory in France. I'm transferring to the Nekyia Academy in Paris."

"Do you even speak French?" asked Autumn.

"Oui. Je parle francais."

Everyone was silent. I jumped to my feet, and Daniel rose, too. We closed in around Trina. She was obviously happy-and who wouldn't be? Moving to Paris was awesome. On the other hand, our friend was leaving. There would now be a Trina-sized gap in our lives. And I would never look at pink the same again.

"When do we say bon voyage?" asked Barbie.

"I'm leaving in three weeks," said Trina. She finally noticed the looks on our faces. Her joy dampened. "Now, don't get all sad. It's not like we'll never talk again. Or see each other."

"You're moving to Paris," I said. "That's not exactly a short drive from Nevada."

"That's why video chat was invented," said Trina. "And airplanes."

"We're happy for you," said Autumn. She gave Trina big hug. "We'll have a big sendoff party for you."

"Yeah," I said, following Autumn's lead. "It'll bad a.s.s, too." As Autumn stepped back, I wiggled through the gap and wrapped my arms around Trina. "I'm going to miss you."

"Oh, get out of the way," said Barbie. "I want a hug, too."

After Barbie's uncharacteristic display of affection was over, Daniel gave Trina a quick squeeze. "No doubt Paris will be the new pink after you're through with it."

"You know it," said Trina. Her eyes looked wet and she blinked rapidly. "Enough already. I gotta go get my beauty sleep." She picked up her purse, and headed toward the door. With one last wave goodbye, and the tears she couldn't hide glimmering in her eyes, she left.

The four of us looked at each other.

"Autumn, you know you're in charge of the party, right?" asked Barbie.

"Of course!" Autumn spread out her hands. "It'll be pink tie. Little Eiffel Towers on the tables. Parisian music. Oh, and there will be all kinds of pastries. And a chocolate fountain." Autumn blinked, her expression dreamy, and looked at us with a goofy smile. "I have a million things to do. I'll see y'all later."

"Wow," I said, after Autumn and her ghosts floated out of my dorm. "She loves parties."

"And she's completely OCD about details," said Barbie. "We are now friends with Party Planner Autumn, AKA General Patton. Anubis save us."

Daniel sighed. "I guess this means I'll have to find a pink tuxedo." He shook his head sadly. "The things I do for friends."

"And on that note," said Barbie. "We shall take our leave." She wrapped her hand around the crook of Daniel's elbow. "Walk me to my room, Danny Boy."

"All right," said Daniel. "And don't call me Danny Boy."

I laughed, and walked my friends to the door. "Good night," I said. "Sweet dreams."

"If only," muttered Barbie. She offered me a half-smile. "Here's looking at you, kid." She flounced out, dragging Daniel with her.

I shut the door, and then turned to lean against it.

Trina leaving Nekyia Academy sucked royally. Eventually the distance would be too much to maintain the close friendship we all had with her. I had only moved eight hours away from my best friends in Las Vegas, and we talked less and less. If besties who lived in the same state couldn't keep close ties then I had no real hope for those who moved to the other side of the planet.

On that b.u.mmer note, I started the post-party clean-up by eating the rest of the cheese doodles.

THE NEXT MORNING, I actually woke up early, so I had some free time before cla.s.ses. I lounged on my bed and surfed the Internet, trying to find any information I could about Lelia Briarstock and her death nearly sixteen years before.

Okay, so I wasn't the queen of research. I could find very little about my Aunt Lelia's death. It was strange that the oldest daughter of a prominent necromancer family didn't even merit a memorial FB page. I mean, what did people do before Facebook and Twitter? Sheesh. No one would know anything.

I couldn't even find Aunt Lelia on the school's website. If my aunt had been this great student and awesome record holder, you'd think they'd have some sort of information. I understood why they wouldn't want to talk about my mother. Obviously, she had been a troublemaker and I doubted there was a rogue's gallery available on the Nekyia website.

After a half hour of useless searching, I finally tried the local newspaper's site. I plugged in the search terms "Lelia Briarstock" and "death" along with the year of my birth. The results came back mixed. But one headline caught my eye: "Woman Dies in Brutal Attack."

I clicked the link. The page pulled up a three-paragraph story. Huh. That wasn't exactly bursting with the kind of clues I needed. Next to the article was a picture of a wooded area with crime scene tape stretched between two large pine trees.

WOMAN DIES.

IN BRUTAL ATTACK.

RENO, Nevada a Yesterday evening, the body of a young local woman was found in the woods just off Necromancy Drive. The two-mile road leads to the elite necromancer school, Nekyia Academy, and the woman was identified as former star student, Lelia Briarstock.

Officials have not confirmed the cause of death, saying only that it was a possible animal attack. Briarstock is the oldest daughter of wealthy entrepreneur Derek and his wife Sandra, who is well known in the elite circles of Reno society. The Briarstocks have not publicly commented about the death of their daughter. Their lawyer, Rosie Nowles, released a statement this morning: The Briarstocks are devastated by the loss of their daughter, and request that they be allowed to grieve in private. They are extremely grateful for the community's support and they commend the Reno police department for conducting an efficient, professional investigation.

I re-read the article twice more. Neither the article nor the picture offered much information about my aunt's traumatic death. Was she mauled by animal? Killed by a necromancer? Attacked by one of Set's minions?

Well, there appeared to be one person who probably knew the answer.

Rosie Nowles ... AKA dear auntie Anput.

Molly's Reaper Diary Put on Your Big Girl Panties and Deal That's it.

Put on your big girl panties and deal.

Write it on your mirror.

Tattoo it on your arm.

Set it as a daily text reminder.

You don't have time to whine and wail about your lot in life. You'll want to, believe me. It does no good to give in to your fear, your anger. Just box up the emotions and do what you gotta do.

You can freak out afterward.

"Scythes were created in the Underworld to strengthen reapers' connections to the magic gifted by Anubis. Scythes open portals between worlds. Scythes are extremely important to reapers, and why they often kept animal protectors born of two worlds, the living and the dead. These familiars often protected the scythes-and their owners."

~Secret History of Reapers, Author Unknown.

"He was undead, a zombie. I'd been taught from an early age that zombies were mindless corpses, but here was my friend, whom I'd known so well, and he was still sentient ... and yes, in some ways, very much alive. We had long conversations about the living and the dead, and he often expressed longing to be freed from his body. What could I do but honor my friend's request? Regret was my companion the night we crept into the woods and I took the ax to his neck. He thanked me before the blade came down. He thanked me. When his body lay still, I fell to my knees and grieved more deeply than when death had taken him the first time."

~The Diary of Eudora Helmnot, 1874.

Chapter 6.

I RAN ALONG the worn path, concentrating only on my breathing and the scuffing sounds of my Nikes. .h.i.tting dirt.

Two days had pa.s.sed since I found the article about my Aunt Lelia. She'd been killed around the same time Mom met and eventually married Al Bartolucci. And thus began the lifelong lie about my true ident.i.ty.

Last night, I'd called to talk to my family, and asked Daddy if he knew anything about Aunt Lelia. Since Mom had never mentioned having a sister, he couldn't satisfy my curiosity. I thought about broaching the topic with Grandmother Sandra again, but she'd made it pretty clear the last time I brought up Aunt Lelia that she was not going to talk about her eldest daughter. Ever.

Asking Henry about what happened to my aunt was like literally talking to a wall. His lips had been sealed with spell-and it was the same thing with any information he had about my mother. His only response was to tell me to find the book called Anubis and the Seventh Warrior. The book was supposed to be in the restricted section of our school library, and had been missing for weeks. Apparently, someone had stolen it, and ever since I'd attempted to check it out, the librarian had treated me suspiciously.

To top off my failure sundae, I hadn't been able to reach Anubis. I couldn't get Anput on the line, either. When she had been the reaper Irina, she had given me a small white diamond (after all, I'd helped her steal a bag full of diamonds ... um, long story). I figured if I held the diamond, I could summon her-you know, the way I summoned Henry.

It didn't work.

Then I got the brilliant idea of calling Rosie Nowles. However, her secretary let me know that she was going to be out of town for the next few weeks. She refused to give me another number, but asked if I wanted to leave a message. So I did. Who knows if Anput would ever get that message? I was left to conclude that my dad and aunt were getting my (ethereal or cell phone) calls, or they were ignoring me.

I rounded the corner, jogging past a familiar copse of large pine trees, and listened to the chatter of squirrels and birds darting among the treetops.

It was peaceful out here.

The hard run was good for me. I definitely felt better. I picked up the pace, pushing myself harder. Sweat rolled down my back and dotted my temples. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to control my inhalations and exhalations. I knew my muscles would ache and I'd need a long shower to wash away the stink, but that was okay. I wanted to be exhausted tonight. I wanted to sleep so deeply that I wouldn't dream. I didn't want to have another Set nightmare.

I was terrified of him.

Worse, I was afraid that my G.o.d-dad had made a mistake about naming me the Kebechet. Okay, so I was the literal daughter of Anubis. What did that mean? It didn't make me automatically qualified for the job. Let's not forget that Anubis had failed to tell the Nekros Society I was "the one." Now, I was training for a series of challenges that I shouldn't have to face. Although, I had to admit that I wanted to see the look on Clarissa's face when I won-and she finally had to accept the fact that she was not the freaking champion.