Chasing Shadow (Shadow Puppeteer) (6 page)

Rented golf carts were parked illegally along the store fronts, blocking traffic. The tourists did as they pleased as if the traffic rules didn’t apply. It was quicker to walk on days like this, but with my shields back up, I was grateful for the crowd. Travelers brought with them a vibe of happiness and worldliness that felt just out of grasp being stuck on the island.

“There’s that weird guy again,” Starr said.

The vagabond in question always sat on the corner of Horsa and Trasten between the bakery shop and the ice cream parlor with his hat low over his face. No one bothered him as his fingers stroked the strings of his guitar. World Congress doesn’t take kindly to street performers, especially ones with instruments. If a person couldn’t find a place for themselves in society, it was found for them.

“What a weirdo. I wonder why World Congress hasn’t picked him up yet,” she said. She was being a hypocrite.

The light turned green and we were moved away from the busy street with its happy go lucky shoppers. As much as I hated high school, I couldn’t wait to get inside a building so I had a chance to warm up. I needed to find a safe place to stow my bags while I tried to figure this out.

“Anyway,” Starr said. She held the wheel with one hand so she could thrust the newspaper at me. The Daily Dark showed a picture of a white clad figure scaling the asylum walls. “Can you believe we were right next to the White Diablo?”

I barely glanced at the paper before stuffing it into my backpack. “Are you nuts? You shouldn’t be waving this around.”

My warning didn’t hinder her excitement.

“I wonder what he looks like under all that white! And why white? Diablo means demon, you know. He should wear red or black or maybe a combination.”

“Why does Diablo have to be male? This highly lucrative anarchist could be female,” I said.

Starr was silent for a moment, thinking it over. When that silence stretched along with a smile, I figured Starr really liked that option better.

But that smile faded. “The paper says that three hundred cells were open last night. That’s three hundred dangerous Berserkers that might be on our island right now.”

I was saved from commenting as we rolled into the school’s parking lot. There were less than a dozen carts already parked, but the lot was small. With the school in the center of the city, most students walked. The carts were reserved for the rich who lived farther out in the woods.

Starr parked towards the front and I ran my fingers through my hair. I was nervous about being at school. Even makeup wasn’t going to hide the damage this time.

I waited out of politeness for Starr to gather her stuff, but I was quickly growing impatient. If I hurried, I might still be able to get breakfast from the cafeteria.

“Are you coming or what?”

“I hope you’re not planning to be grouchy all day,” Starr said. She shoved her pink compact mirror into her equally pink backpack.

I tried not to growl. “I’ll work on it.”

Rabid honking announced the cheerleading squad as their golf carts careened into the parking lot, barely missing the two of us.

“Out of the way Raggedy, wouldn’t want your stitching to come loose!” Amber yelled. Her statement was followed by the beeping of her horn.

An open can of orange soda was thrown at us, but I got the splash. Great! Now orange soda complimented my grass stains. The heckling cheerleaders drew unwanted attention my way. Amber jumped from the cart, waiting for me.

Starr grabbed my injured arm, stopping me from approaching the girls. The pain was a good reminder of my current issue. I couldn’t get in a fight when my duffle bag was full of illegal items and my injuries would slow me down.

“There’s other ways to get even,” Starr said.

For someone so short, she possessed a lot of strength pulling me towards the gate. I pretended not to hear the muffled teasing that followed us. Back in grade school, someone called me Raggedy because of my scars and that nickname stuck. I really hated it.

I would still be seething if a patrol cart hadn’t pulled into the staff parking with their lights flashing.

T
he patrollers jumped out from the cart and ran into the school.

“They found us. They know we were on the boat last night,” I said.

“There’s no way they could know. It was pitch black and foggy,” Starr said with a confidence I didn’t share.

Starr started towards the school’s entrance. I followed because I didn’t want Amber to catch up. I was tired and hungry. My emotions were raw and my nerves were shot. I didn’t have patience for anyone.

The tension made each step heavy as I approached the doors with more caution than her. It would be warm inside and my wet clothes were uncomfortably clingy. If I kept my head down, no one would see my face. I just couldn’t look suspicious walking in.

Starr immediately approached a group of onlookers. “What’s going on?”

I recognized all three students from Starr’s photo club. Their names escaped me since I didn’t have classes with any of them.

“Len Anders was making a scene. The patrollers are trying to calm her down in the principal’s office,” the preppy girl in the group said.

“What’s her problem?” Starr asked.

Len Anders was in the student body. She had high grades and membership in just about every club. I couldn’t picture her making a scene.

“Apparently her sister is missing and she’s blaming the government,” the brunette guy answered.

The news was surreal. Lorie was missing? I had two classes with her. Before I could clarify the news, Starr grabbed my arm and excused us from her group. We walked at a clipped pace towards our lockers. I tensed with my bags, very aware that it was going to be suspicious having all this stuff.

“This is serious business, Bel,” Starr said. Her tone was so hushed that I had to strain to hear her over the noise. “The Daily Dark says that over twenty disappearances have occurred at this age range on Ardent alone. That doesn’t even cover the other islands or the mainland. There are these theories you see—”

I stopped her before she went into her tangent.

“Can I put one of my bags in your locker?”

Starr blinked at me. “What?”

I lifted the bag in question. I couldn’t put it in my locker because someone broke the lock last week. “Can I put this in your locker?”

“Yeah, sure.” She was momentarily at a loss for words, which lasted less than a minute. I stuffed my duffle in her locker as she continued on her tangent. “The disappearances are becoming huge. Something’s going on.”

“Not now Starr,” I warned, glancing over my shoulder.

No one was within listening distance, but that didn’t make it safe. Starr was talking treason.

“Where are they taking girls our age, Bel?” Starr whispered.

Her eyes were as wide as saucers, waiting for me to comment. Before I could answer, the principal’s office door slammed open and Len ran out. The patrollers were fast on her heels, catching her before she could get to the door. I’ve never seen Len so disheveled.

Len jerked wildly in their grip. “You took my sister, you took her. What are you doing with the girls you steal? People need to know my sister was kidnapped!”

One minute she was fighting and the next, she was limp in their arms. The younger of the two patrollers put his tranquilize stunner away. Everyone stood in the hall, quiet as they carried her out of the school.

Any minute now, I expected the patrollers to return. That could be me they carried out, but I wouldn’t look so delicate in their arms.

The bell droned for students to head to class, but I stood frozen. The ache in my wrist started up again, a pale reminder of the trouble following me. This was crazy. Too many weird things were happening too quickly.

“Len will be okay.” A rough baritone promised.

My breath hitched and my heart skipped a beat. I felt better and worse at the same time. Rex was so close that I felt the heat radiating off his body.

And
what
a body that was.

He was one guy I really wanted to get intimate with, but he never gave me that option while we dated. How easy it would be to push my sway into him, but there was a barrier. Maybe it was my conscious, but I never tried to push him farther.

“She’ll be lucky if its only reform school they send her to,” I said.

When Rex didn’t answer, I glanced back at him.

Today, he looked as disheveled as me. His shirt, though wrinkled, hugged strong shoulders, but was a little loose around his tapered stomach. His hair was finger combed, falling shaggy and cute around his square jaw line. There was a fading half-moon bruise under his right eye. I guess we both found it difficult staying out of trouble.

“What happened to you?” he asked. There was a hint of genuine concern in his rough manner.

“I got in a fight with a doppelganger.”

His frown deepened. Wow-boy, I didn’t expect him to actually know what a doppelganger was. Starr didn’t look all that pleased by my joke either.

“We need to talk,” Rex said.

While dating, I realized there was an intense person under that false layer of calm he exuded. Without my empathy, I’d probably miss it.

“I can tell you what we need to talk about. You need to put a leash on your girlfriend,” Starr said.

Squeezed between us, she was almost like a yapping dog. I love her to death. When she’s not self-absorbed, she’s quite protective.

“Did she do this?” Rex asked, waving his hand towards my face.

His expression was telling. Maybe he wasn’t quite over me.

“As if.” Starr huffed indigently. “What happened last night is none of your business.”

Something blue and foreboding caught my attention. The darker the blue, the higher in rank the employee of World Congress. Only three representatives of World Congress got to wear midnight blue. It’s amazing how many shades of blue existed. As an artist, I appreciated it, but that was as far as the appreciation went before it headed straight to anxiety.

Rex and Starr saw the officer, led by Principle Viddie, heading our way.

“I think we should get to class now,” Rex said.

“Yes,” Starr agreed.

My feet were plastered to the floor. It wasn’t my paranoia; they really were walking towards me. A classroom wasn’t going to make me invisible.

I handed my bags to Starr, but neither she nor Rex made any sign that they were leaving.

“Miss
Belen
McKnight, I hope your fight wasn’t on campus,” Principle Viddie said.

My attention went from him to the identity tag on the patroller’s chest. Sergeant Grif.

“What fight? I ran into a doorknob.” I knew better than to be smart with him, but old habits die hard and authority really got my hackles up.

“Watch your sarcasm,” he warned. “Off to class with you Mister Craeven and Miss Righthart.”

Rex gave me a look, but I had no idea what he wanted me to know. This was the first time in five months he acknowledged me so I was a little rusty with his very few expressions. Starr gave a low strangled sound. She did this when she was nervous, but she didn’t dare say anything with the patroller present. The halls thinned out and reluctantly, both Starr and Rex moved off towards their classes.

Of late, I was getting very acquainted with the feeling of dread. It made everything leaden inside me.

“The detention hall is empty if you wish to use it,” Principal Viddie offered.

The door was already open for us and the room was indeed empty. Not even Mr. Flawter, the official detention teacher, was in the room. The principal closed the door behind us, leaving us in relative silence. I thought there was a rule against leaving a girl in the company of a man, unaccompanied. Apparently World Congress was exempt from the caution.

“Your chip,” Sergeant Grif said.

I pulled my hair up so that he could scan the back of my ear where the information chip was inserted. All babies were chipped at birth, but me. Apparently my chip was inserted at the age of two, when I was found in a car crash off the Nevada interstate. This information was vague. The kicker was that the dead woman in the car didn’t share my DNA. I was an unregistered baby.

Sergeant Grif made a noncommittal huff as he pulled his scanner back to look at the screen. My record was lengthy so I waited for the accusations to come.

“Ms.
Belen
McKnight, in foster care since the age of two, kicked out of seventeen homes for excessive behavioral problems by the age of seven, five charges of theft, and twelve charges of vandalism, fights in school and with other foster children, medicated for aggression and psychotic episodes. At the age of six, you shot your foster father in the shoulder.” He looked up at me, gauging my expression.

I was bristling, but managed to keep my exterior cold. “It was hard aiming for his heart with him on top of me.”

It happened ten years ago, but I remembered it all too vividly. I thought I shoved that whimpering child to the very back of my being, but she sprung up again, with fervor. I clutched my hands at the small of my back to keep them from trembling. People say you never forget your first time. That goes both with sex and with attempted murder. Unfortunately, I was whisked off for mental evaluation and he got off with a slap on the wrist and a near death experience thanks to me.

“Picked up on prostitution charges…” his eyebrows went up on that one.

His pupils dilated as he focused on my breasts. Reminding him I was underage wouldn’t do much at the moment. I lacked innocence.

“I was homeless and hungry,” I said, meeting his eyes. I did what I needed to do.

“You had a home and you chose to run away from it Miss McKnight. Did you enjoy your profession?” he asked.

I clenched my fists, ready to strike, when the door opened.

“I’ll take it from here,” the newcomer said.

Grif immediately straightened, nearly dropping his chip scanner. His sudden nervousness drew my attention over my shoulder and I saw why. The Raver from last night stood in a dark blue shirt that ranked him one shade away from being a World Congress representative. My anger quickly turned to confusion.