Mooncalf

A/N: Hiya, folks! So, I feel a bit guilty for taking so long in updating, so I'm giving you a second chapter today yet. Mucho thanks to everybody who has reviewed!



Chapter Five


I widened my eyes, forced my pupils to dilate. I put a crease between my eyebrows. And then I told Mr. Genal the truth—that if I didn’t make a good impression at tonight’s interview, no way was I going to college. (I didn’t add that it would be because I was dead.) Afterward, I quivered my lower lip before catching it between my teeth. He was a tough one, I’ll give him that much. I still had to smile at him, but it was my eyes that did the trick. He resisted their deep brown color, and long black lashes. He didn’t resist their promise to tell his wife and Principal Cureton about what was taped to the back of the locked bottom drawer of the desk in his office, though.

To be convincing was a powerful gift. I couldn’t help but smirk a little as the teacher scurried away. If I hadn’t been evil, I probably would have been disappointed. I liked Mr. Genal. Still, if there was one thing I’ve learned about humans, it’s that they all have secrets.

“Don’t look so smug,” Stick scolded. “It’s unattractive.”

I scoffed. I never looked unattractive. He just shook his head, and we finally made good our plan to escape.

“Nice job with Mr. Genal, by the way. Though you probably shouldn’t have blackmailed him.”

Wow. He really must know his stuff if he knew that’s how I operated. I was sort of impressed.

“Are you really twenty?” I asked him on the bus.

He rolled his eyes.

“Yes. You want to see my birth certificate, or what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. What’s your real name?”

“John Founder.”

“Whoa.” I said.

“Cam. That’s the name on my transcripts, too.”

“But—“

“I go by Jack. It’s not that uncommon, you know.”

I’m not used to feeling less intelligent than humans. It was disconcerting. So I hit him.

“You’re still a Stick in the mud to me!” I chirped with a grin.

He rubbed his shoulder and glared. “You have really got to stop doing that.”

I shrugged. “I guess that depends on what you’ve told the Guardians about me.”

“Cam, they didn’t place me at Galmon to spy on you. They placed me there to keep you safe.”

I laughed so hard I snorted. The lady in the hot pink puffy jacket across the aisle looked at me. I convinced her to mind her own freaking business.

A finger poked hard into my arm.

“I’m not joking,” Stick said. “You’re the only Cambion in history to keep your soul.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. Super. Just what I needed: A bodyguard/babysitter with a penchant for lying about his age to lose his mind. Sad, really, because in his lucid moments, he seemed kind of okay. But maybe I ought to walk him off a bridge after all, put him out of his misery.

“Why do you think the others were eliminated?” Stick asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with us being damned beasts. We belong in hell, where we can’t tempt the good people of this world,” I sniped.

“Not quite. Not to start out, anyway. Your soul is your own, Cam. It doesn’t belong to God or Satan—not yet. The others all promised their souls to Satan, for power, money, love; whatever their weakness, the Devil used it to buy their souls. That’s why they Try you every year—to make sure you still have a free soul. Can you imagine how dangerous it would be to have a living Cambion’s power at Satan’s disposal?”

Not really. I was too busy keeping all the nosy people on the bus from noticing what we were talking about. But I think I got the most important bit.

“So you’re saying that the Guardians aren’t going to kill me tonight at the Charles Allis?”

“Have you sold your soul to the Devil?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Then, no. I still can’t believe they rented an art museum for dinner tonight.” Stick muttered.

“Oh, you get used to it. They like their dinners formal and extravagant. Once we had filet mignon in the Tower of London, with the British Crown Jewels. They even got the Beefeaters to turn off those treadmill things. They think it’s educational, or something. All I learned was that sparkly things are pretty.”

“Right.”

“You still haven’t told me what you told the Guardians,” I reminded.

“Oh, just that someone has been sending you threatening notes and staging black magic rituals.” He grimaced. “And that you haven’t started your English paper, but that was an accident.”

I glared at him. “Gee, thanks. You’re such a help.”

If it weren’t on Stick’s face, the face of the blandest person on the planet, I would have sworn the smile he gave me was cheeky.

Galmon Academy was on the outskirts of a small town, so the mall was fairly pathetic. That didn’t mean that I didn’t find enough dresses to try on to keep me busy for a few hours. Stick tried once to escape to Gamestop, but after I informed that I wanted to check out the new Super Mario game, and if he went there without me, I’d break his thumbs, he waited outside the fitting rooms patiently. It wasn’t that I showed him every dress. I was just making sure he didn’t ditch me. He was the one with the credit card, after all. He liked the navy sheath with the boatneck. The Guardians would like it too, I knew. I kept looking. I liked the red halter dress. He thought it was too . . . too . . . He never did finish that sentence.

I was struggling to pull off a black tea-length with a handkerchief hem when a dress appeared over the door.

“Stick?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Try this one on.”

“This is the ladies fitting room, you know.”

I could almost hear him blush.

“I couldn’t find anyone to help me.” I laughed and took the dress so he could leave. But first I finished pulling off the dress I was half-wearing, and asked him to put it back for me. I knew he saw my arms pull it above my head, and I knew his ears were crimson. If the guy got that embarrassed just knowing there was a girl in her underwear on the other side of a door, I felt a little sorry for any sap he convinced to go out with him.

I looked the dress he’d handed me over before I put it on. Dark peacock blue. Strapless, which for one of Stick’s choices, surprised me. Satin, with a pleated skirt. It looked a little 1950s, to be honest, but on occasion, I try to be game.

I was out of that dressing room in five minutes.

“Good choice,” I told Stick. “Let’s go pay. We’ve only got a couple of hours before the car arrives. We’d better hurry if we’re going to stop at Gamestop.”

The bus home was actually on time, and between that and the dress, I thought maybe this dinner wasn’t doomed. Of course, I didn’t have a strapless bra to wear under the dress, but there really hadn’t been a way to get one at the mall without Stick seeing. If I had just thought to bring my backpack, I could have nicked one when he wasn’t looking. But, even though I’m not exactly well-endowed in the chest department, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to fit one into the pocket of my jeans. And no way was I going to let him buy one for me. He may be the one person in on my secret (besides Jane, but she didn’t even believe me), but he really didn’t need to know my cup size. I’d make do with duct tape.

The car arrived precisely at four o’clock. Most students were on their way to sports practice, and they stopped to gape. Galmon Academy was pretty pretentious, but it still wasn’t every day that a limo picked up two students in formal dress. Like I said, the Guardians like the extravagant. No champagne in the refrigerator, though. I checked.

Stick looked sort of okay in his suit. He’d shaved, too. That was good. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, and I wished I’d sat next to him, instead of across from him. Then maybe he wouldn’t have been staring into space with those eyes directed at me. It was a little creepy, to be able to look into his eyes and know he didn’t even see me.

And why didn’t he see me, anyway? I knew I looked good. The dress was fairly demure, but it did show off my waist, and the color made my skin glow. I don’t know what his problem was.

Then again, I did. He’d seen Jane, I was sure. If he’d overheard what she’d said to me, I couldn’t be so certain.

The long and short of it is, Jane thought that Stick and I had conspired to ditch her from our little group, so that he and I could have hot monkey sex. I laughed, but I don’t think she took that the way I meant it. I wondered if I shouldn’t have told her my secret. Now that she hated my guts, maybe she would use that information against me. If that made her stop hating me, it might be worth it. I’d never had enough freedom from the Guardians to have friends before.

Well, whatever. I always had Grigori. Annoying as he was, at least he was talking to me, which is more than I could say for my travelling companion.

After an hour and a half of fields and pastures passed by, and another half hour of suburbs, I moved to sit by Stick. He didn’t notice, so I flicked him in the ear.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his ear. “What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem. What’s the matter with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” I said finally. If he didn’t want to talk to me, that was fine by me. “We’re here.”

I’d been to the Charles Allis before, but I still thought it was pretty cool. It was built in 1911, but it was totally Tudor-style, which you don’t see too often in the Midwest. And the grounds were pretty cool. I still didn’t get why the Guardians insisted on renting this place when they came to me instead of the other way around, though. I mean, the room could sit 150, easy. And there were only fourteen of us, including Stick and me. The effect was like being in Notre Dame all by yourself—awesome, but a little intimidating. They probably did it to try and keep me in line. Fat chance.

The twelve were already there, and seated. Cardinal Federico motioned for me to sit. I dumped my backpack under the single long table and plunked into my seat. Stick sat gingerly beside me. The caterers silently placed the first course before us. The whole time, not a word was said.

“So, I got the new schedule you guys put together for me. What I want to know is, he’s already been through the whole high school thing, taken all the classes. Why is it that I had to change classes and not him? It’s totally not fair.” What can I say? Silence makes my nose itch.

After a moment, Cardinal Federico—the only one who ever spoke, and the one who posed as my guardian to the school—answered. “John is supposedly on scholarship. We did not have the leverage to change his schedule.” That was bull. Money always works as leverage.

“Do you have the notes?” Cardinal Federico asked.

I nodded and lugged my backpack from beneath the table.

“Well, I’ve got the one. The first one was written on my whiteboard, so I erased that.”

“Hm.”

Stick said, “I took a digital photograph of the first message, and I have a scanned copy of the second.” Overachiever.

Cardinal Federico daintily cut another bite of asparagus lifted it to his lips, chewed, swallowed, and dabbed at his mouth with his linen napkin before he deigned speak again. See why I don’t like these people? Talk about snobby.

“We’ve called you here this evening to discuss with you our plans for your immediate future,” he said.

“Super. I was thinking of applying to a few of the smaller liberal arts colleges here in the Midwest and majoring in either communications or theater,” I said, knowing full well he wasn’t talking about college.

It didn’t matter anyway, since the Cardinal just continued like I hadn’t even spoken.

“Cambion, you will stay out of the matters at your school concerning satanic rituals and the messages you have been receiving. Should you receive another such message, you will turn it over to John immediately. Do you understand?”

“I really hope you’re joking,” I said drily. “Because there is no freaking way that I’ll stay out of this. It seems to be my ass on the line here, and as long as I have a free soul and not a damned one, my ass is my own concern. Do you understand?”

“I understand these matters are troubling, Cambion. But you must not concern yourself. You will only put yourself in more danger. It’s best left to professionals. John will know how to keep you safe. Now, have you begun preparing your defense for your upcoming Trial? After the incident with the police and the accounts of devil-worship at your school, you’ll need a sound argument in order to pass.” Birthday Trials are somewhat like an oral exam-type final, if you haven’t figured that out yet. Which you probably haven’t. If you fail, you don’t get an F. You get offed. And you thought having to get a GED would be bad.

“No, I’ve been rather distracted by the fact that someone is stalking me, and setting me up to fail my stupid Trial. So I guess it’s a good thing that Stick can keep me safe, because I have every intention of concerning myself.” Cardinal Federico looked like he was about to protest, so I added, “You cannot make me leave this alone, Fred. Like I said: My soul, my concern. Excuse me. I’m not hungry. I’m sure John can tell you whatever you need to know.” I very politely threw my napkin onto the table and stomped from the room. Let them eat with their golden boy.

Except apparently, they didn’t. Stick found me sitting on the steps by the front door a few minutes later.

“It’s cold out here,” he said, sitting beside me. He’d brought my backpack with him, I saw.

“Yeah.”

“They do care about your welfare, you know.”

“Of course they do. They want my soul. I mean, hey, if they can get a demon soul, that’s a big win for their side, right? Let me ask you this: If I’m dying, are you under orders to administer Last Rites?”

Jack’s gaze locked to his feet.

“I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t want me to.”

“Just what a girl wants to hear.” I did get that he was in a sticky spot, being between me and the people who paid his wages. So I added, “What do you say we con the driver into stopping for curly fries?”

“Sounds good. That fancy stuff doesn’t fill me up.”

“Cool. I’m freezing.”

We ate our fries (and Jack ate his two burgers) on the drive home. The heater kept us toasty, and finally full after a very long day, I was feeling a little sleepy. Jack smiled, so I let my head drop to his shoulder.

“Got a lot of enemies, I guess,” I murmured.

“Guess so. Maybe if you weren’t such a brat . . .”

“I know. Evil. I’m going to be judged guilty at my Trial and go to hell.”

“Shh, Cam. You’re not going anywhere but back to school tonight. Go to sleep.”

“Okay. That sounds good. Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

For taking me shopping. For coming outside for me. For not hating me.

“For the curly fries.”