Night Star

twenty-one

I figured she’d try to avoid me ’til lunch.

Figured she’d want to hold off on any sort of confrontation until she had her groupies all gathered around her and she could show me the full brunt of the big, bad thing she’s achieved.

Figured she mistook my weeklong absence, my wanting to get my head straight about Damen, for fear.

Fear of her and all she’s accomplished.

Which is exactly why I made sure to run into her well before that.

Appearing by her side without warning, I slide up alongside her, tap her on the shoulder, and stare straight into her heavily made-up, slightly startled eyes, saying, “Hey, Haven.” I keep my expression benign, if not outright friendly. Wanting her to know that I’m back, that it’s time for her to rein it in, but not wanting to challenge her directly, since nothing good will come of that. “Just thought you should know that your car has been moved. I needed the space.”

She looks at me, mouth curling up at one side, obviously far more amused than mad, ridiculously delighted to know the game is still on.

“But then again, that shouldn’t really surprise you, since you know that’s not your space. It belongs to Damen and me. Has for almost a year now.”

She laughs, a short burst of sound that ends almost as soon as it begins. Slipping out of her shorts and T-shirt, she tosses them into her locker in exchange for the navy-blue dress she starts to yank over her head. “Yeah, well, you weren’t here and Damen didn’t seem to mind all that much. But then again, from what I’ve seen, he’s been a little preoccupied lately.”

She pulls the dress down, her eyes meeting mine as her face emerges from the swath of fabric, then she shimmies from side to side, getting herself all situated. Taking a moment to eyeball me, her derisive gaze raking from my head to my toes before venturing back up again, searching for a reaction that just doesn’t come.

Her comment glides past me, doesn’t affect me in the least. Damen and I have come to an understanding, and this confrontation with her, well, it’s everything I’ve trained myself for.

“I thought you hated P.E.” I drop onto the scarred wood bench, cross my legs, and clasp my hands on my knee. Gazing around the girls’ locker room, a place she’s made a point to avoid after a particularly brutal hazing incident she was forced to suffer at the beginning of freshman year.

“Well, it’s true that I used to.” She shrugs, readjusting the jumble of necklaces she now favors in place of the amulet I gave her. Her eyes blazing, face radiant when she looks at me and says, “But then, as you well know, things change, Ever. Or, more specifically, I’ve changed. And because of it, I’ve finally come to realize something I could’ve only guessed at before.” She pauses for a moment to slip on her shoes, wrapping the ties around her ankles, once, twice, before tying them in a knot that reaches halfway up her tiny, well-muscled calves. “Once you’ve made it to the top of the pyramid, once you’re beautiful, powerful, and graced with both strength and speed, well, there’s really no reason to dislike anything. Except for maybe those pathetically jealous losers who are determined to bring you down. But, seriously, other than that, it’s all good. You can’t even imagine what it feels like to be me right now.” She fluffs her hair, smoothing her hands over the front and sides of her dress, gazing at herself admiringly in the mirror across the way, as she makes sure everything is perfectly in place.

Stealing a moment away from her reflection to reflect upon me, sighing deeply, loudly, her gaze full of pity when she says, “I meant that literally by the way. You seriously cannot imagine what it’s like to be me. What it’s like to be on top of the world—at the top of your game.” She smirks, reaching into her locker, toward the top shelf, where she’s stashed all her rings. “I mean, let’s face it, not to be cruel or anything, but you’ve pretty much been a big loser your whole, entire life, and even now, when, technically speaking anyway, you can have anything or anyone you choose—you still choose to be a big dork.” She shakes her head and stacks her rings on her fingers, a task that takes longer than you’d think due to the sheer number of them. “I mean, if it wasn’t so funny, it would be sad. But still, I have to admit, there’s still a small part of me that pities you.”

“And the other part?” I look at her, watching as she arranges her hair, getting it settled and smoothed around her shoulders and face.

She laughs. Satisfied with her hair, she pilfers through her bag for some lip gloss before casting a quick glance my way. “Why, the other part is going to kill you. But then, you already knew that.”

I nod, so casually you’d think she’d just made some harmless, throwaway comment rather than an actual threat on my life.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, originally I’d planned to kill Jude first, you know, hurt him real bad while making you watch—that sort of thing. But then, once I really thought about it, I realized it would be so much more fun to switch it around and do away with you first. You know, leave him totally defenseless and alone, with no one able, much less willing to save him. I mean, surely Damen won’t be volunteering for that. And not just because he’s so busy protecting Stacia, but because, well, let’s face it, as good and noble as he likes to think he is, I doubt even he’ll be all that sad to see him go, considering everything that’s gone down recently.” She shrugs, running the wand over her lips, once, twice, before rubbing them together, making a kissing face at the mirror, then grinning as she drops the gloss back into her bag. “I don’t know, just an idea. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” I lift my brow and tilt my head, allowing my hair to spill down the front of my dress.

She looks at me, waiting.

“I think—bring it on.”

She breaks into laughter, deep, belly-clutching laughter. Struggling to catch her breath as she smooths her hair again, tosses her bag over her shoulder, and continues to check herself out in the mirror, tilting her head from side to side and clearly admiring the view when she says, “You couldn’t possibly be serious. You actually want to start this, here? Now?” She looks at me, face full of doubt.

“Seems as good a time and place as any.” I shrug. “I mean, why delay the inevitable, right?”

She holds my gaze as I rise from the bench, standing before her without a trace of fear, completely assured of my surplus of strength. Taking a moment to remind myself of the promise I made—that it’s up to her to make the first move. I don’t bait her, don’t do anything more than stand there and wait. The consequences are far too serious, far too permanent, for a reckless move like that. My only goal is to teach her a lesson, knock her down a notch or two. Show her that I’m stronger than she thinks, that it’s time for her to pull back, to retreat. Hoping it’ll prompt her to rethink all of this, to realize her big, bad plan is not such a wise move.

She shakes her head, rolls her eyes, mumbles something indecipherable under her breath, and tries to push past me, dismissing the whole thing with a wave of her hand. “Trust me. It’ll happen, when it happens.” She glances over her shoulder and narrows her gaze. “All you need to know is that you will not control it, you will not determine it, and you will not see it coming. Makes it way more fun that way, don’t ya think?”

But just as she reaches the door, sure she’s in the clear, I appear right before her, barring her exit. “Listen, Haven, you so much as lay a finger on Miles, Jude, or anyone else, and so help me you will not like what happens to you…”

Her lip curls, while her eyes go dark, darker than I’ve ever seen them before. “And what if I go after Stacia?” She smiles, though it’s more like a leer. “What’re you gonna do about that? You gonna risk your life—your very soul—to protect her too?” Pausing long enough to allow the words to penetrate, before slapping her hand over her mouth in a feigned bout of shame. “Oh, never mind. I totally forgot she has Damen for that now. My bad.” She smirks and shoves past me, pushes right through the door.

Leaving me there on my own, knowing the victory may have been small, but having no doubt I succeeded in getting my message across.

The next move is hers.