Mortal Danger

“There’s a limit to what I’m allowed to tell you, Edie.”

“It’s like a secret society,” I guessed. “And I’m only permitted what’s available to initiates of my level.”

“You’re too damn clever for your own good. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Positive.” The moment I said it, my wrist burned like fire, and I whipped it up, narrowly restraining a cry. A dark line appeared across the top of the infinity sign, creepy as hell, like ink working its way out of my skin from the inside. I gasped as the burn subsided, touching my wrist as if I might smear the mark, but it was cool and dry.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. That’s a tally. When you have three lines—”

“It means you’ve used all your favors. Got it. Can I see your wrists?”

He offered them without complaint, and I saw now that he had a kanji similar to mine on his left arm, and an infinity sign struck through with three lines on his right. I frowned.

“Why is one of yours a little different from mine?”

“Spoilers, Sweetie”

I was delighted to catch him quoting Doctor Who. Smiling, I went into the brownstone and traipsed up the stairs to our apartment. “You can’t be serious,” I said over one shoulder.

“About what?”

“Not being able to answer. You said you couldn’t until I signed on the dotted line. Well, I have. So start talking.”

“I was kidding, actually. Ownership symbols are tweaked according to a variety of factors, including the faction represented. This line here,” he pointed, “represents Raoul.”

“Who’s that?”

“The guy who offered me a deal.”

For a few seconds, I studied my own wrist, then his. “What part of the mark are you?”

“I’m the curved line crossing these two others.” He traced the arc on his left wrist with one fingertip.

“Ah.” As that was the only difference, the rest of the character had to relate to the faction Kian represented. I’m totally getting a handle on this. Fighting a blush, I asked, “Do you want to come in?”

It was safe to invite him. The day before, my parents had gone to a symposium, something to do with string theory. That was another reason I’d chosen this as the day. My parents wouldn’t be home until later, no chance they would’ve missed me before it was too late.

He nodded. “We have some planning to do.”

Music to my ears. Inside, the apartment was small, cluttered with books. There was no television; I had been lucky to persuade my parents I needed a laptop for homework and research. I also watched shows on the Internet—not that they knew. I suspected my parents believed I was too serious and focused to pursue mindless entertainment, but sometimes I really needed to hide out in somebody else’s world when mine became unbearable.

The old brown tweed sofa sagged in the middle. Kian didn’t seem to notice when he sank down on one end. I sat on the other, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt.

“You’ll have to go away for the summer,” he said.

Talk about lobbing a brick. “What?”

“Think about it. Your parents will question the changes if they happen overnight. We need to build a credible framework.”

“So I’m going to makeover camp? Or a Swiss finishing school? Somehow I don’t think my parents will go for it.”

Kian shook his head. “That’s why we craft the story to fit the audience. I bet they’d love it if you were accepted to the Summer Science Program, where you sharpen your academics and get college credit at the same time.”

“Yeah,” I said in surprise. “They would.”

“The actual changes? I can knock them out in a couple of hours. But you have to be gone or your parents will question how it’s possible.”

“And on campus, I’ll have a chance to practice being … the new me.”

“Exactly. It’s a no-risk setting for a test run. By the time you go back to Blackbriar, you’ll be self-assured, ready to teach them a lesson.”

I’d read all the psychology books. In theory, I knew that confidence worked wonders when it came to dealing with other people. That didn’t mean I could achieve it on my own; I had spent years doubting my worth on every level except my brain.

But Kian could give me a boost …

I put that aside, troubled over his insights. “You knew about the rabbits … you know I go to Blackbriar. How much do you know about me, exactly?”

He didn’t answer, only offered a level look, which was the only reply I needed. I told myself it was part of his job, and I shouldn’t freak out. There were probably a hundred other ugly girls in his phone, assigned by some creepy bureau of supernatural resources.

So I asked something else. “You really think I can pull this off?”

“The ass**les at Blackbriar won’t know what hit them.” For a moment, a cruel light burned in his jade eyes, more catlike in the morning light.

“That sounds almost … personal. Do you have a score to settle there, too?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Of course not. I just want to see them get what’s coming, after what they did to you.”

Naturally, he’d sympathize with me. If he had been a freak, geek, or misfit before his favors kicked in, he had scars where it didn’t show. The bullies did deserve this. No question. I’d hadn’t done anything to them.

Yet.

I never told him what I planned to do, though. “How do you know I don’t just want to be beautiful?”

His chin dropped, eyes sliding away from mine. “I saw the expression in your eyes when you asked. I’ve seen it before. And there’s nothing simple about it.”

He was right about that. The Teflon crew had created in me a powerful cocktail of hate, anger, shame, and a burning desire for justice. Maybe somebody like me couldn’t get it at Blackbriar, but the new Edie could.

I tapped the arm of the couch, frowning. “Back to the SSP. They require applications for a program like that, usually with references. I don’t see how I can get in. It’s already—”

“You saw what I could do earlier.” Kian chuckled. “You’ve accepted that I can change how you look. Now you’re questioning if I can get your name on a list?”

Heat pinked my cheeks, and I ducked my head. My glasses slipped down my nose. “When you put it that way … wait, this doesn’t count as my second favor, does it?”