Orphan of Mythcorp (12 page)

And Lindsey was terrified. She feared more
than anything being known, being seen as a scared little girl.

“
Make them stop.” I said, releasing
her. Pain returned slam-bang.

“
Leave him alone!” Tattoo screamed. She
was standing over me, pleading with her confused pals. “Let’s get
outta here. Come on!”

They weren’t going anywhere. If anything, her
sudden change of attitude made them more determined than ever to
fit me for a pine box. I curled up again while Tattoo screamed and
her pals pummeled.

But then, some real kooky sounds began
filling the alley. Grunts and cries of pain and what I could only
assume must’ve been the sounds of a body being torn apart limb from
limb. Nightmare sounds. Haunting, tearing, ripping noises.

Followed by silence.

I slowly uncurled and peeped through my
fingers. “Who are you?” I moaned to the two people standing over
the bodies of my attackers. One was a gingersnap, a short
red-headed dude sporting a maniacal grin; the other was a
girl/woman as small as Ash. She was dressed in skin tight black
jeggings and a pink sleeveless t-shirt hugging her toned upper
body. Wild black hair tied in a braid flowed down her back.

The gingersnap casually stepped over the body
of one of my ‘teachers’ and offered me his hand. “Are you okay?” he
asked, beaming.

“
Actually no,” I said. I spotted the
cripple-stick lying on the pavement under an arm. There was no body
attached to the arm. My jitters returned. I felt like retching.
What the heck had I gotten myself mixed up in? “I need my
cripple-stick there, please.”

The gingersnap lifted me, held me up as I
groaned. A pink blur flashed before my peepers. Suddenly the little
woman was standing in front of us, my cripple-stick in her hands.
Gods she moved quickly. “How did you do that?” I asked, grabbing
the stick. It was smeared with gore.

“
Don’t bother,” the gingersnap waved
dismissively. “I’ve been asking that question for years and she
still hasn’t answered me. By the way, I am Faustus the Magnificent,
and the little one covered in other peoples blood is Kana. Her
nickname is tiny, but don’t
you
call her that; she’s like to cut out your
eyelids.”

He noticed the blood smears, and said to
Kana, “Clean that off for Pete’s sake. We don’t want the poor kid
thinking we’re a couple of savages.”

Too late.

“
Um, thanks for helping me. How did you
guys beat them so fast?”

Kana finished cleaning my cripple-stick and
then handed it to me. I tried it out. Wobbled and shook, but the
lusty desire to be free of this scene and these kooks lent me
strength.

“
Should we tell him?” Faustus asked
Kana, grin still plastered on his face.

The one called Kana inspected me, stepped up
onto the bloodied chest of Titus, and said, “You look familiar.
Don’t he look familiar, Red?”

Faustus started checking me out too. “Yeah,
he kind of does—especially with that cane and black mop of hair and
all them bruises. I’ll be a pillagers pet if he doesn’t look like
him. What’s your name, kid? And don’t lie, because Kana here can
tell a lie by the faintest facial twitch.”

“
My name is Morgan.” It was a smidgen
hard to breathe; the air was so heavy in here.

“
What was that krit you pulled on the
girl?” Kana asked. “That staring thing, I mean.”

I hesitated—which Kana seemed to notice. Bile
rose. “It’s called a Mesmer. If I focus, I can sometimes make
people do what I want them to. I’m not as good as some of the
Morai.”

“
The Morai? Son of a witch,” Kana said.
“Were you raised in the Home? That piss-plant on Golden Avenue?”
She and Faustus waited with their peepers’ wide open.

I nodded, hoping it was the right answer.

“
Seth-on-a-stick!” Kana shrieked. She
traded looks with Faustus. “It’s Knox’s boy.”

Sanson

I raced away from the fighting yahoos and
made it to Alpha where I hailed a cab. Cabbie Man got me home by
twelve thirty. After injecting myself with the last nanite vial
from the case, I fell on my bed and was out in seconds.

Like other aspects of my condition,
sleep is one of those ‘normal’ tasks I no longer
have
to perform. My body doesn’t need
to recover since it doesn’t accumulate or expend energy.

The nanites, however, have less work to do
during sleep: they last longer the more I sleep.

Sunlight was trying to penetrate my
lids—which was my first indication that I was late. Sleep glue had
sealed my eyes shut. It happens, all part of my curse. I felt my
way to the bathroom (which is very dangerous and tedious for
someone with no sensation), got to the sink, and splashed water on
my lids. “Dang it,” I whined. Still stuck. I raised my hands,
opened the vanity and, relying on memory and sound, reached out for
the bottle of Nexdrops.

With head craned back I soaked my eyes with
the liquid; drip-drip-drip. Half a minute later my lids popped
open. I dribbled a few more drops in each eye and blinked.

Such a pain, being undead.

After five minutes of self-examination, I
dressed and checked out the time. “Holy crap.” I was almost three
hours late. Thanks mom. Four fresh vials of nanites from the little
fridge in my bedroom fit snug into the case; I deposited the whole
mess, along with the blueprints, into my backpack. With the walk to
Philicity High, I ended up three and a half hours late. I nodded at
the Iconocop, walked through the detector and dropped my FAD in the
polymer case to the right.

“
Just in time for Fifth Period
Sociology,” I groaned.

I joined the throng in the hall, made it to
Room 114. That’s when Ash grabbed my arm. He looked up with this
puppy dog expression, which came off really creepy with his white
eyes and vacant expression.

“
Where have you been?”

“
Relax,” I said, “I got your papers in
my bag.”

Ignoring me, he said, “I need your help.” His
buddy Lamorak was with him, sporting the same creepy expression.
“Come with me.”

“
But then I’ll miss Sociology and I
might need it after we graduate,” I said. Neither of the Morai
seemed to get it. Apparently they’d been born without a sense of
humor. So I shrugged, followed them on a seemingly random walk
around the school. “Where are we going?”

At last Ash spoke. “We’re not going anywhere
just now,” looking around. The halls were just about empty. “I was
waiting for some privacy before we go somewhere. Listen, earlier
today Manny Kant and Gareth fell to blows.”

The Morai have a strange way of speaking. “I
assume that means Manny Kant beat up one of your guys?”

“
Yes.”

I walked towards the windows, glanced
outside. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but why are you
telling
me
this?”

“
I want you to make him sorry,” real
calm, as if he were asking me to buy him ice cream.

“
There’s like twelve of you, right?” I
asked. “Why don’t you just gang up on him?”

Lamorak huffed and puffed and looked in Ash’s
eyes. I had yet to hear this one speak. Ash held his hands up as if
placating him, and said to me, “Our bodies are fragile. Even if we
surrounded him, all he’d have to do would be to deliver a few well
placed punches, and we’d lose the edge.”

“
I don’t know man,” facing the windows.
“You haven’t even asked how hard it was for me to get those papers
you wanted. I nearly got flattened by some huge . . . I don’t even
know what it was.”

Ash betrayed no impatience. “Lamorak here
knows Kant’s schedule. He will take you—”

“
Look, I’m not doing it,” I said,
flapping my hands around. “This is weird. You don’t just ask
someone to beat up someone else, okay? You ain’t no Mafia Don and I
ain’t no bruiser. I’ve never been in a fight in my life. I think
I’ve done enough for you as it is. I’m going to class.”

I started to walk away, but Lamorak rushed
ahead and barred my path. He was bigger than Ash, and with his
three ponytails he came off as even more eccentric. Ash set a hand
on my shoulder. “You are right. You have done much already. But
please hold off making a decision until I show you something. Will
you do that much for me?”

I looked down at his white hand. He released
my arm. “Fine. But I’m not going to beat someone up just because
you asked nicely. I got my own health concerns too, you know.”

He nodded and led me down the hall. After
rounding the corner I realized where we were headed. Two minutes
later we reached the nurse’s station. Ash and Lamorak signed in and
I did the same, but I wasn’t going to change my mind just because
he showed me his beat up buddy.

“
Hello Miss Little,” Ash said, opening
the inner door to the room where they keep the cots. “Is it cool if
we visit Gareth?”

The nurse said, “Of course.”

“
I brought a couple friends if that’s
alright.” He had a way of making his questions sound like
statements. “This is Lamorak and Sanson.”

Miss Little nodded at each of us and then
pulled a curtain out of the way. After that she disappeared to
check on another patient. I stood behind the Morai yahoos but could
still see; the mangled sight on that bed was gag-worthy. I was
expecting a black eye, a puffed up lip at worst. But this was some
nasty stuff.

“
Holy crap,” I gasped.

Ash nodded. “Yeah, we bruise easily. Nurse
Little said he might not wake for a few days.”

“
Why haven’t they taken him to the
hospital?”

Lamorak snorted, walked around to the other
side of the bed. Ash, calm and cool as ever, shrugged. “He’s a
Morai. We’re not allowed off school grounds.”

“
But look at him!” stepping closer.
“He’s not even white anymore.” His face looked like a steak left
out too long. “And what the heck did Kant do to his hand? What if
he dies?”

Silence.

Now, I’m no empath, but I could feel their
anger and frustration just looking at their busted up friend. Plus,
if I didn’t help Ash out now, he’d never forgive me and never lift
my curse.

I sighed. “Where’s Kant?”

Ash nodded at Lamorak, who in turn nodded at
me and indicated that I should follow him. So, once again I was
doing exactly what Ash wanted. It didn’t even seem to matter that I
was immune to his Mesmer.

My mute guide led me to the gym where Mr.
Pangborn was blowing on his whistle, jumping around in his tight
white cutoffs, and generally being a big A-hole to the sophomores.
I followed Lamorak inside and along the blue cinder-block wall over
to the bleachers, which were pushed out on this side of the gym. As
every smoker in Philicity High knows, when the bleachers are out,
you can gain access to the old supply room behind them.

Lamorak stopped when he reached the door. It
had been painted so many times that it blended in with the wall.
“Where’s Kant?”

“
He has a fifteen minute free period
after his Theorics class. He comes alone to smoke.”

I was surprised he answered. Lamorak’s voice
was just as smooth as the other Morai, but had a slight lisp to it.
“Are you going to help me, or do I have to handle him alone?”

“
Alone,” he said.

“
Super.” I shoved on the door. It was
paint-glued but gave under my weight. I set my bag down on a pallet
loaded with satchels of baseballs, while Lamorak shuffled off to
the side of the door and plopped down on a half-deflated
Lazy-boy.

And then we waited for the goon to show.

I chugged some Nanex, checked my thermal.
“Well how long till he shows? I hate waiting.” I did not receive an
answer. This was like standing in an open field with a lightning
rod during a storm, only more boring. “I wish he’d show up already
so we can get on with it.”

A little while later I said, “What if he gets
the upper hand on me?”

Lamorak shrugged.

Jerk. “So, ah, how does your Mesmer thing
work?”

Lamorak shrugged, sighed. “It’s pheromones.
We peep into your soul and release pheromones through our pores,
which relaxes your noodle and body, making you pliable. Then, with
our peepers, we entrance you. When these things take hold, you
become our puppet. Happy?”

“
How could that possibly make me
happy?”

Lamorak stood, listened. “He’s coming. Stand
over there so he doesn’t see you at first.”

“
Yes sir, Puppet Master.”

The door handle jiggled and the door inched
open. I felt nothing, not even fear. Or maybe I did. When your
heart doesn’t beat, it can’t race when you’re scared, so you have
no way of knowing your own heart, really.

One of the few advantages to being
undead.

I raised the baseball in my left hand, ready
to smash it against the back of Kant’s head. It was dark in the
supply room, but not so dark that I couldn’t see the figure
entering. I reacted before realizing that it wasn’t Kant. My hand
was three inches from the head before I jerked to a halt.
“Holy—”

“
What the fug are you doing?” the Morai
asked after turning quick to see me standing there, fist on
baseball inches from her head. “Sanson? Lam? What’s going
on?”

“
Ava? What are you doing here?” Lamorak
asked. It was female. Huh. I backed up, out of the light so that I
could get a better look at her. As she moved closer to Lamorak, I
watched her hips. Yup, she was definitely a chick. Curves and
smaller hands gave her away, but on closer inspection I noticed
other qualities lacking in all the rest of the Morai.