Twisted (14 page)

Date
.

Gaia felt a shimmery feeling in her legs. Not a major quake, but at least a 3.5 on the
do-I-really-want-to-go-through-with-this scale.
The date was only a couple of hours away, and she still couldn't get a good handle on the idea. Gaia was going to a restaurant. With a guy.

It wasn't a completely unknown situation. She had been out on social occasions before. Of course, the last time was probably when she was twelve. It wasn't completely unheard of. Except this time the guy was actually coming because of Gaia. He would look at Gaia. And talk to Gaia. Worse, he would expect Gaia to talk back and
be interesting
for minutes on end.

She wondered if she could just keep her mouth full of burrito and let him talk. Guys liked to talk. That's what she had heard, anyway.

With this stellar plan in place Gaia started downstairs, sure that she was on her way to end her status as the world's oldest undated girl. It was possible that she would even break the great
kiss curse
.

But a new obstacle was waiting for Gaia before she reached the ground floor. She closed her eyes and sighed.

She'd forgotten about the Wicked Witch of the Wonderbra.

Ella looked at Gaia over the rims of her purple-tinted sunglasses. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Gaia replied.

Ella smirked. “Then maybe you shouldn't go. It's getting late.”

“Late?” Gaia pointed at the window beside the staircase. “It's barely after four. It's broad daylight out there.”

Ella pursed her glossy lips. “I know, but with all those murders going on, I really think you need to stay in. It's just too dangerous.”

The person on the stairs
looked
like Ella. The perfume drifting toward Gaia in invisible clouds certainly
smelled
like Ella. But her mind had clearly been replaced by the mind of someone else—
someone who cared if Gaia kept breathing.

Or at least bothered to pretend to care.

What the hell was she supposed to say? Part of her just wanted to walk out like she normally would, but some morbid part of her was tempted to play along.

“I . . . uh . . . won't stay late.” That was at least partially true. Gaia could circle back by the brownstone after her early date with David. Then she could
slip out
again as soon as Ella got over this caring fit.

Ella waited a few seconds, then nodded. “All right,” she said, “but whatever you do, stay out of the park.
And try to get home before eight. It's a school night.”

Gaia stared. Body snatchers were definitely at work. This whole conversation could not be occurring.
Not with Ella.

She tried to answer but could only manage a nod. Ella's behavior had baffled Gaia beyond the ability for rational speech.

SAM WONDERED IF YOU COULD
drown in hair. Heather's hair was long and lush and altogether beautiful to look at. Breathing through it was a different story. No matter how Sam turned in the narrow bed, he seemed to end up with a
suffocating curtain
of brown spilling over his face.

Heather murmured something and snuggled against him. Her soft skin felt extraordinarily warm against his legs and chest.

Like Heather, Sam was nearly unconscious in a postsex daze. It was amazing. Sex was like
the greatest sleeping aid in history.
One minute he was more charged up than he had ever been
in his life, the next minute his arms and legs seemed to weigh a thousand tons. Each.

Sam pushed open a gap in Heather's hair wide enough to permit a breath of air. He couldn't allow himself to actually sleep. With the serial killer working the neighborhood, Heather's parents would panic if she was out late. And Sam had something to do.
Something important.
But for the, moment he couldn't remember exactly what it was. He settled himself against Heather's warm softness and began to slide toward sleep.

This wasn't so bad. He could live with this. Having a beautiful girl naked in your bed was about as
close to perfect
as life could get.

For the moment, at least, Sam's obsession with Gaia seemed distant. Silly. There was nothing wrong with Heather. So what if she didn't know what a rook was? So what if she had a small cruel streak? It would be okay. It would work out. He was sure that he could love Heather.

Except, as his drowsiness pulled him down the slope toward true sleep, he brushed his lips against Heather's brown hair and
imagined it was gold.

A buzzing alarm began to sound. Sam groaned and flapped his arm at the clock on the bedside table. He smacked the button over and over, but the noise kept coming.

“Mmmm.” Heather rolled over and brushed her
lips against his face. “Turn that off,” she whispered.

“I'm trying.” Sam propped himself up on one elbow and picked up the dock. He pressed the button again. He slid the alarm switch to off, but the noise didn't stop. He stared at the clock blankly for a few seconds longer, then realized what was wrong.

The sound wasn't coming from
the clock.

Sam scanned the room, searching for the source of the noise. It wasn't the phone. It wasn't the stereo. It was . . . a coat

Across the room Sam's jacket was lying folded across the back of a chair—not the neatest fold in the world, but then, he had been in sort of
a hurry to get undressed.
For some reason, the coat was buzzing.

“Sam,” Heather called. “Please. That's so annoying.”

“Sure. Right.” Still more than half asleep, Sam carefully eased himself away from Heather and rolled off the side of the bed. He stumbled over discarded clothing, banged his knee against his desk, knocked over a stack of books, and made it to the coat without generating any more noise than
a rogue elephant in a bell factory.
He fumbled in the pocket of the coat and grabbed something. What he pulled out was a bright yellow plastic radio.

Sam's heartbeat slammed to a stop.

Oh, yeah.
The radio.

Free of the coat, the buzzing noise was louder than ever. Sam flipped the radio over and over in his hands, searching for the switch. At last he located the trigger on the side and pressed it
The buzzing stopped.

Sam breathed a low sigh of relief. He would call Ed back as soon as he could, but in the meantime at least the radio was quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to Heather what he—

“Sam?” said a loud voice from the radio. “Sam, are you there?”

Panic shot through Sam. All remains of the after-sex sleepiness were
blown away
in an instant. He looked at the bed, trying to ascertain whether Heather was waking up, then he squeezed the trigger on the radio.

“I'm here” he said as softly as he could.

“Took you long enough,” Ed's voice replied. “I've been sitting here buzzing you for the last five minutes. I was about to give up.”

Sam wished he had.

Heather rolled over on the bed and stretched her hands above her head. “Sam,” she said in a voice that was half a yawn. “Who's on the phone?”

“Nobody important,” Sam replied with forced cheerfulness. “Go back to sleep.” He lowered his voice and spoke into the radio. “Look, can you call me back later?”

“Hey, this thing was your idea.”
The quality of the radio was plenty good enough to pick up the irritation in Ed's voice. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“What's happening?”

“She's in the park,” Ed answered. “She's been playing chess against that old guy. The Russian.”

“Zolov,” said Sam. “He's Ukrainian.”

“Whatever. The game's over, and she's leaving.”

Heather raised her head and rubbed at her eyes. “Sam . . .”

“Just a minute.” Sam walked across the small room and stood as far from Heather as he could.
“Look, can't you follow her?”
he whispered to the radio.

“I'm too obvious,” Ed replied through a crackle of static. “If I leave the park, she's going to see me.”

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. They should just let her go. This whole business was
seriously screwed up.

Sam squeezed the trigger, ready to tell Ed to pack it in.

For a full five seconds Sam held down the little button, but the words wouldn't come. If he gave up and something happened to Gaia, Sam would never be able to live with himself.
That much he knew.

“All right,” he said in a low tone. “Watch her as long as you can. I'll be right there.”

“Hurry”.

Suddenly Sam noticed a small plastic switch at the top of the radio. He flicked it, and the speaker inside went dead.

He'd found the off switch.
Great timing.

Heather sat up and held the white sheets against her chest. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“Um, nothing,” Sam said. He moved across the darkened room and found his clothes lying on the floor. Still trying to be as quiet as he could, he picked up his pants and began to slide them on.

“Where are you going?” asked Heather. There was a
lingering fog
of sleep in her voice, but it didn't hide an edge of irritation. “Aren't you going to stay with me?”

Sam ran a hundred excuses through his mind, but all of them seemed too lame to speak.

He could always tell her the truth. On the other hand,
he wasn't ready to die.

“I have a class,” he said.

“Now?” Heather pushed her hair back from her face and frowned at him. “I thought you had a short day on Tuesdays.”

“It's a lab,” Sam replied. He dragged out his shirt and began to put it on as fast as he could. “A . . . um, makeup lab from one I missed earlier.”

“How long will it take?”

That depends on Gaia.

“A couple of hours,” he said. “Three at the most.” He finished with his shirt, dropped into a chair, and started putting on his shoes.

Heather stretched her
long, bare legs
but didn't get up. “Then I guess I better get dressed, too. I have to get home.”

“Okay,” said Sam. He stood up. “I've got to run, or I'll be late.”

Heather pulled the pillows together and leaned back against them. “All right,” she said. “Mind if I use your shower before I go?”

Sam smiled. “No problem. I wish I could stay.”

He did wish he could stay. Although the decision to watch over Gaia was already made, Sam felt
a fresh wave of indecision.

After all, the last time he'd left Heather to chase Gaia, he'd ended up
kidnapped and half dead.

It would be nice if he could stay here. It would be nice if he could think of nothing but Heather.

It would probably be a lot safer, too.

But the undefined feelings he had for Gaia Moore were too hard to ignore.

Sam picked up his jacket and put it on. As he did, he noticed the small package still nestled in the right-hand pocket. He took out the box and held it up to the light. Small box. Brown paper.
Nothing special.
He started to leave the package behind, then he changed his mind and dropped it back into the
pocket. If he ended up on a nightlong Gaia stakeout, he would at least have something to look at.

“Well, I guess I'm going,” he said as he moved toward the door. “Are you going to be all right going home by yourself?”

“I'll be fine.”

There was a
new tension
in Heather's voice that caught Sam's attention. He turned back to her and looked at her lovely face. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure,” said Heather.

Sam wanted to ask her more, but Ed was waiting and Gaia was moving. If he was going to catch up to them, he needed to get outside. “Okay, then, bye.”

He turned and grabbed the doorknob. He was halfway into the hall when Heather called again.

“Sam?”

“Yes?” he replied without turning.

“Does this have anything to do with her?”

Heather
named no names
, but Sam didn't bother to ask for a definition of “her.”

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “No, it's just class.”

He waited a few seconds more, but Heather said nothing else. Sam stepped through the open door and left.

“I fear nothing,” David said. “That's another of my special powers.”

AT FIRST GAIA WAS FEELING FAIRLY
pleased with herself. She was handling this date thing okay. No pressure. She had even kept it together in her game against Zolov. She'd lost, of course, but she always lost to Zolov. At least this time she had come close.

She tugged at the scrunchie in her hair as she walked. There was absolutely no reason to get tense about this dinner. They were only going to grab fast food from a cheap restaurant.
Nothing fancy.

She was fine—right up until she turned the corner onto Thompson. The closer Gaia got to Jimmy's, the more she could feel a pressure pushing her backward. It was as if there were this
weird wind
coming from the restaurant. It blew harder as Gaia got closer until every step toward the restaurant was like pushing into a gale. Other people walked down the sidewalk with no trouble, but Gaia felt like any moment the wind might grab her and send her flying back across the park.

Gaia slowed. Jimmy's Burrito was only a dozen steps away, but they were hard steps to take. She steeled herself, squared her shoulders, and walked to the door.

Lightning didn't strike. No earthquakes shook the ground.

Gaia took a deep breath. She glanced inside, scanned the tables and booths. No sign of David.