Mortal Danger (The Immortal Game) (6 page)

He ignored my gratitude. Maybe I wouldn’t want it, either. I tried to put myself in his shoes. How would I feel about the people I met, who were so broken they had been ready to die when I stepped in? It wouldn’t be wise to get attached to somebody like that, I thought. Even worse, when you
were
that somebody.
No wonder he’s pulling back, minimizing the mistake of showing this much favoritism.
Whatever his motive, I appreciated that he hadn’t brought me to headquarters. Intuition told me I wasn’t ready to be thrown into the deep end, especially since I wasn’t a very good swimmer.

I got out my cell phone, checked the time, compared it with the East Coast, and decided it had been long enough to seem credible that my plane had landed. I texted,
Safe and sound on the ground. Thanks for letting me do this.

My mom replied,
We’re proud of you. Have fun, Edith.

In silence, Kian emptied my backpack and filled it with the things he’d gotten. “There’s a gift card in the front zip compartment. You’ll have time to buy more clothes before classes start in the morning.”

“Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “You said
we’d
go, before.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s not a good idea. You don’t need me with you.”

But I want you there.
I didn’t say it aloud. Every fiber of me knew it was a bad idea to get attached to him. He was like a caseworker, almost.

“All right, thanks. I’ll register, drop my bag off at the dorm, and go shopping, I guess.” I couldn’t believe I’d just spoken those words voluntarily.

“You ready?” A figurative shutter came down in his expression; he was ready to get on with his work.

“Yep.”

There was nothing personal about his hand on mine, just a link required to port me on to the last leg in our journey. We emerged in a quiet corner of what must be the quad. A tangle of branches veiled the grass in filtered green light. Kian let go of me and pushed clear from the foliage.

He pointed, his tone all efficiency. “Registration is in that building. Head over and they can take it from here.”

“Can I call if I need you?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “But you won’t. You need to get used to your new look and develop the confidence to demolish the assholes at Blackbriar, come fall.”

I took his point. If I called him constantly, that wasn’t self-assurance; psychology books would call it codependence. To hide my nervousness, I joked, “It’s also to keep my parents from having a heart attack. I hope the summer’s long enough for them to believe—”

“Don’t worry.” He softened a little. “Parents always want to believe their kids are beautiful. It won’t seem like a stretch when the time comes, I promise.”

“Then I guess that’s it.”

“Yeah. I won’t contact you until the summer program ends.”

“You better come then.” I tried for a playful tone. “You’re my ride home.”

“I’ll never let you down when you need me, Edie.” His tone seemed so somber for a sunny summer day, as if he saw dark things in the distance and me in the center of them.

“Then there’s one more thing before you go.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but the words wouldn’t stop. They came from a place of complete certainty.

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

I didn’t give a shit about rules. A girl only got one first, and I suspected it wouldn’t take me long to find somebody who wanted to be the one. But I deserved
more
than that for my first kiss. It had to be Kian—who said he liked me before—even though he wasn’t allowed to. I was willing to accept that it couldn’t go past this point.

“That’s a really bad idea,” he whispered.

“If you don’t want to…”

In answer, he stepped closer so I could smell his soap, just a touch of citrus, and the warm, sunshiny scent of his skin. He dizzied me. Kian tangled his fingers in my hair and drew me to him with just enough hesitation to make me think he was nervous. That helped on my end, though I still couldn’t breathe right. His other hand rested on my hip. I didn’t know where to put my arms, if I should press close, stand super still, or—
Oh God. It’s a good thing I asked him to do this.

I’d make a fool of myself with anyone else.

“Eyes shut,” he breathed in my ear.

I closed them and turned my face up. A trill of pleasure radiated wherever he touched me. Then Kian brushed his lips against mine, and the world stopped.

For this moment, I only knew his heat, his heartbeat. His mouth tasted sweet and lush, like chai tea and cinnamon, and I rose up against him on my tiptoes to sink my hands into his layered hair. This wasn’t a perfunctory kiss—no, it was so much more. He caught me against him, and I lost track of everything but Kian. His hands burned through the thin cotton of my tee, roaming my back. For someone who had never been kissed, this was like learning to swim by being thrown off a boat into the ocean.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His nearness acted on me like a drug, and I clung, wanting only more. Forever, more. Eventually, I registered the hooting behind us in the quad. Fierce heat flashed into my cheeks as I pulled back.

“Something to remember me by.” His tone carried a low and lovely ache, as if those moments meant something to him, as if he worried about me forgetting him.

Like that could ever happen.

“
I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“Okay. What time?”

“Let’s say eight, West Coast time.”

I nodded. “Thanks for everything.”

His jade gaze swept me from head to toe, as if committing me to memory. Then he stepped back. The leafy foliage hid his vanishing act, but the air crackled after he went, like charged wind after a storm.

I ached for him already.

A STITCH IN TIME

Going forward, I’d control everything this summer, taking charge of my life just like I had by asking Kian for my first kiss. That resolve made me feel better about being thrown into a college credit program with minimal preparation.

You can do this.

As I strolled toward the red-and-white registration banner, a girl fell into step beside me. She seemed … nervous, gnawing at her lip with oversize front teeth. Her mouth was chapped; her hair was dull and needed trimming. And before this morning, she would’ve considered herself too cool to be seen with me. At least that was my experience; even loners and outcasts preferred not to risk my social contagion because hanging out with me wasn’t worth the potential grief from the Teflon crew. But maybe my Blackbriar experience wouldn’t repeat here; there was no way this girl could know I had been a pariah.

“Was that your boyfriend?” she ventured, as if I might slap her for speaking to me.

At Blackbriar, this would be a nonstarter, a definite faux pas. People who looked like me did
not
hang out with those who looked like her. But here at the science program, that didn’t matter—and I would never crush someone like they had me.

“Nah. Just a guy.” That seemed like the kind of thing the new Edie would say.

One who saved my life.

Who liked me
before.

“Really?”

“We haven’t known each other that long.” Surprising and true.

The other girl’s eyes widened at that revelation. “But you were kissing.”

Somehow I managed a shrug. “I was curious.”

My companion didn’t know what to say to that, clearly. “Wow.”

“Are you part of the science program?” I figured it was better to change the subject because there were so few things I could reasonably say about Kian. Hell, I didn’t even know his last name.

“Yeah. I guess you go to school here?”

I shook my head. “I’m heading over to registration myself.”

“I never would’ve guessed.” She wore a near-comical expression of disbelief, and if I’d been born with
this
version of my face, along with my brain, I’d find her incredulity offensive. It must suck for smart, pretty girls not to be taken seriously.

“Why?” I dared her to say it out loud.

“Y-you just don’t look like the type,” she stammered.

Sympathy washed over me. Hours before, I’d been living this girl’s life.
Worse
, most likely. “Yeah, well. Looks can be deceiving. I’m Edie.”

Belatedly, I realized I hadn’t stuttered once. Apparently the behavioral psychologist had been right; I had a psychogenic stutter, exacerbated by stress, mental anguish, and anxiety. Right then, I felt no fear of ridicule, and it was easy to talk.

“Viola. Vi,” she amended quickly.

I guessed she didn’t want to be known here as the girl whose parents named her after the cross-dresser in
Twelfth Night
. She’d probably be surprised I knew that. I’d seen every film version ever produced, though, including the one with Amanda Bynes and Channing Tatum. That was the last movie of hers I loved.

“Did you come a long way?” I asked.

“I’m from Ohio, so yeah.” She went on, “It’s cool that I met someone nice my first day. I was a little worried about coming by myself. None of my friends got in.”

At least you have some,
I thought.

I got in line behind a guy who couldn’t stop playing with his smartphone. Everyone at Blackbriar had them, but my cell was cheap and primitive, just so I could text my parents. Though they never said so, they couldn’t see the point of buying me an expensive phone when I had nobody else to call.

Vi stood behind me, fidgeting until I turned around, aiming a look at her. She flushed. “Sorry. I’m just nervous about meeting so many new people.”

“Me too.” I just wasn’t showing it at the moment.

“Really? You seem so confident.”

Because I’d never see her after this summer, I could be honest. “It’s a front.”

The line moved pretty fast. There were five people helping out, and they’d divided up the alphabet. I went over to the guy in charge of the
K
s, beckoning Viola to follow me. He was probably a volunteer from the university. His brown hair held a red tinge, and he had a million freckles.

“Name?” he asked.

“Edie Kramer.” There was no way Kian would’ve registered me under a name I hated.

He drew his finger down the list. “Ah, here you are. Wow, you’re lucky.”

“I am?”

“Yep, you slid right in under the wire. We had a last-minute cancellation.”

“What happened to free me up a slot?” An icy chill suffused my skin.

I wondered if Kian had done something to the person whose place I’d taken. Though he’d promised he wouldn’t make
my
life worse, he’d said nothing about anyone else. “The Monkey’s Paw” flickered in my mind, troubling me. Every too-good-to-be-true situation had a dark side, so I needed to figure out what the catch was—and fast.

“Dunno.”

“Really? There’s no note in my file?” I tried a smile, feeling like a dipshit. My stomach twisted into a knot. In the past, I’d never have tried to charm my way into anything; my personal charisma wouldn’t have filled a thimble.

He hesitated, then flipped a few pages. “Looks like he was in an accident, broke his leg or something. When he cancelled, they pulled you off the waiting list.”

“Some people have all the luck,” Vi said.

I didn’t before. “Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem. So here’s your registration packet and your dorm keys. You’ll need the first for the front door of your residence hall and the other for the room. Room assignment is in the small white envelope. You also need to check in with your RA before the end of the day. She’ll go over rules and curfew.”

“I was wondering if I could room with my friend, Vi,” I said, trying the persuasive smile for a second time.

Life can’t be this easy for the beautiful people.

“The rooms are already assigned,” he said.

A rule that I can’t get around?
The old me would’ve accepted his reply, but if I wanted to be accepted by the Teflon crew, I had to assimilate. So I imagined what Brittany or Allison would do. To have any hope of beating them, first I had to master their weapons of mass destruction.

So I made eye contact, opened mine a little wider, and leaned forward. “But I didn’t know Vi was going to be here until just now.” Totally true, as we’d just met. “Please, can’t you make an exception?”

He weakened visibly. “Let me check the master lists. If your roommates haven’t arrived yet, I can swap the names. No harm done.”

“Fingers crossed,” I whispered to Vi, who seemed astonished and pleased.

A few minutes later, he came back with Vi’s packet as well. “They aren’t here yet, so they can room together when they arrive.”

“Too cool,” I said. “Thanks.”

As triumph washed over me, I also felt like I needed a shower.
Do those girls have no souls?
I didn’t know if I could do this for long, but it seemed to be second nature for them. They considered their ability to control other people an accessory, like a great purse or a cute pair of shoes.

Vi took her envelope as I headed across the quad. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“I wasn’t sure it would.” Especially since I had no experience with manipulation. But I’d watched it happen often enough. Mimicry wasn’t tough, apparently.

“This rocks. We’re on the fourth floor, it looks like.”

“Let’s go meet the RA and get that over with.”

“Sounds good.”

I crossed the quad, which was all green grass and stately trees, to a tall brick building. Two sets of double doors led into what reminded me of a hostel lobby with a rudimentary front desk and a few grubby chairs. A college girl worked behind the counter, answering questions and explaining how the mail situation worked. From there, I ran up four flights, curious how my new body would respond. It didn’t leave me short of breath at all, which meant I’d have to work out to keep fit, and I was curious if I’d enjoy doing so, starting from
this
baseline instead of where I was before.

Our RA was all of twenty-one, curly blond hair, good teeth. She looked like a surfer girl, and she seemed laid-back, which boded well. Her idea of going over the rules involved handing us a printout. She ended her short spiel with a grin. “If you
do
decide to break the rules, be smart. Don’t let me catch you.” At Vi’s expression, her smile widened. “Hey, I was sixteen not long ago. I’m not going to pretend I don’t remember what it was like.”