Nine Lives of Chloe King

  “Chloe!” Amy chirped on the other end. “What’s up?”

  “Remember Sergei? The old guy who was trading insults with the other old guy at the Presidio …?”

  “The leader of your Pride, yeah,” her friend answered. Sounding smug that she knew all that.

  “He’s dead. Killed by that assassin who tried to kill me on the bridge.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “But he was actually trying to have me killed by the Rogue; it was kind of a setup—”

  “Holy shit,” Amy interrupted. “What are you going to do?”

  “I think …” Chloe thought about it. She had no desire to go over to Firebird immediately; it was probably a mess. And in the interest of full disclosure—since she was probably going to see it on the news anyway—it was probably best to come clean to her mother. “I think I’m actually going to go home. If anything weird is going to happen, I want to be able to protect her.”

  “Good thinking. Paul and I will go over, too. We might as well be all together since everyone already knows about us.”

  “I—okay, yeah, good idea.”

  “Absolutely. See you in a little while.”

  And now the last call. It was even set for speed dial.

  “Hello?”

  “Alyec.” She took a deep breath. “Sergei’s dead. The Rogue killed him.”

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m going home to make sure Mom’s okay and everything. Don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

  “Do you need me? I’m kind of in the middle of band practice—but I’ll drop everything and come if you want. …”

  “No.” Chloe smiled and shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. Call me when you’re out.”

  “Okay. Be safe, Chloe.”

  “I will.”

  Chloe clicked her phone off and shoved it back in her pocket. When she first was hunted by the Rogue and had developed her powers, she always took circuitous routes home to confuse anyone who might be following her. Since her mom’s kidnapping it was obvious that everyone knew where she lived—now it was just important that she get there first. She took one last long look around, enjoying the view and the moment’s respite from the horrors of what was to come next.

  Then she leapt down to the rooftop and hurried home through alleys and back ways, invisible to everyone—including the police.

  When she heard her mom jingling her keys at the door, she opened it but forgot to retract her claws and Anna started at the sight. Chloe had spent the hour before her mom got home from work patrolling the house, making sure the windows and doors were locked, and listening for the sounds of an intruder. Amy sat in front of the TV, flipping between CNN Headline News and local channels (and reruns of Invader Zim). Paul wasn’t there yet.

  “Not dipping into the catnip, are you?” Anna King asked a little nervously as she came in and put her attaché case on the counter.

  “Not exactly,” Chloe said with a wry smile.

  “Hey—it’s on again!” Amy called from the couch.

  Mother and daughter moved farther into the living room. A grim-faced young newsman talked while the words Local Businessman Murdered lit up the corner of the screen in red, yellow, and blue.

  “Local real estate magnate Sergei Shaddar was found dead today in an abandoned theater. Connie Brammeier in Inner Sunset has the story.”

  The camera switched to a female reporter, younger and serious, on the scene. Things were going on behind her, but it was hard to tell what exactly. There were policemen, a tired-looking detective who frowned over her clipboard, and flashes going off.

  “Earlier today police were alerted by a local about suspicious activity in the condemned building. Inside they found the body of Sergei Shaddar, owner of Firebird Properties LLC, gruesomely—and possibly ritually—covered in stab wounds.”

  “Covered? There was only one,” Chloe said before she stopped herself.

  “… his throat also cut. Whether this was some sort of gang-related activity or a random attack remains unknown. Shaddar was a reclusive but popular businessman who donated ten thousand dollars every Christmas to local charities.”

  That’s news to me, Chloe thought. Like inverse variables and people who liked Avril Lavigne, it was hard to wrap her mind around someone who was so absolutely evil—and gave to the poor.

  “Investigators say there is no trace of the two suspects who fled the scene, but police are looking into it. Anyone with information on this crime is encouraged to call the number at the bottom of the screen. All tips are kept anonymous. Bob?”

  “Why do I get the feeling that one of the ’suspects’ is you, Chloe?” her mom asked in what was dangerously close to a growl. Amy turned down the volume.

  Chloe took a deep breath. “Sergei told me to meet him at that theater because he had information on Dad.” Her mom’s eyes widened. “He was setting me up to be killed by the Rogue, who was also there waiting for me.”

  “I thought that person—the Rogue—fell from the bridge,” her mother said slowly.

  “Two percent of suicides survive the fall every year,” Amy said, not tearing her eyes from the television.

  “Anyway, he’s still alive,” Chloe continued as her mom frowned. “He and Sergei were working together to kill any potential ’Chosen Ones’—for different reasons, obviously. They’re the ones who killed my biological sister a few months ago. But the Rogue turned on Sergei and killed him before attacking me—just another Mai he wanted dead.”

  Anna King looked at her daughter for a long moment, unblinking, just like Kim. Her eyes were much harder and flintier than the cat girl’s, and her blond hair wasn’t as wispy as she usually kept it. When she finally spoke, it was as calmly as Igor.

  “That’s it. We’re moving.”

  Chloe had to replay what she said several times before accepting it.

  “What?”

  “We’re moving. San Francisco is way too dangerous. It’s ridiculous.” Anna King took her glasses off and turned away, getting a notepad. “I shouldn’t have any trouble finding a job in Seattle or New York. …”

  “Mom, what are you talking about?” Chloe followed her around. Amy sort of wilted back onto the couch, just peeping over the top.

  “In the last few months, there have been two attempts on your life.” Her mother ticked things off on her fingers. “I’ve been held hostage, you’ve been basically held hostage, I have personally witnessed a gang war, no matter what you want to call it.”

  “We can’t just run away—the Mai have looked for me for so long—they won’t just give up. And the Rogue will, too!” Chloe protested.

  “Then we’ll go into hiding. I’ll tell the authorities about what happened to me and we’ll go into a federal protection something or other. Start over. I don’t care.”

  “I can’t just leave everyone!” Chloe wailed, wishing she sounded less teenage-y.

  “And I can’t just let you die!” her mother shouted back. Her eyes blazed; her jaw was set with frustration.

  Suddenly Chloe understood. Her mom felt helpless that she couldn’t protect her daughter. She felt ignorant and left out; her daughter’s life was suddenly flooded with ancient cults and mythological races and Anna was angry because she had no control. And that was one thing she treasured more than almost anything else.

  Of course, the whole situation really was out of control: Sergei was dead, the Rogue was still on the loose, Brian was probably still on the Order’s hit list, the Mai were leaderless and lost, and, Chloe slowly realized, there was only one person who could fix it.

  She squared her shoulders and kept her voice calm. “Mom, I know this is all upsetting, but running away really won’t fix anything. The Mai can track me like bloodhounds. And … I can’t leave them. I’m their only leader now.” When her mom opened her mouth, Chloe gently cut her off. “You saw me die and rise from the dead. You see my claws. This isn’t just a high-school varsity club
or something—this is serious. And I’m the only one who can stop this cycle of violence,” Chloe found herself saying. Wow, do I really believe that? When she thought about it, she realized it wasn’t a “belief”; it was a truth. She had to be the one who stopped it. Or else it would keep on going. Forever.

  Or until everyone involved was dead.

  “And I can’t let you keep on being involved,” her mother said shakily. But Chloe could hear her resolve cracking.

  “Neither you nor I have that choice,” Chloe said. “If I don’t go to them, they’ll come to us. And I swore you would never get hurt again.”

  “Why can’t I swear that about my own daughter?” Anna whispered, putting her fingers to her temple. She wasn’t crying, not quite, but it was obvious she was holding it back.

  Then someone knocked on the door, causing everyone to jump.

  “Hey,” Paul yelled cheerily through the glass, holding up a bag of Krispy Kremes. Then he saw the looks on everyone’s faces. “Did I come at a bad time?”

  Her mom insisted on driving if she couldn’t forbid or direct. Paul and Amy sat in the backseat, stuffing themselves with doughnuts to get through the tension.

  Almost like old times, Chloe thought wistfully. Something about being in the passenger seat made her feel like she was ten again. Her mother’s jaw was still clenched, teeth gritted; even her earrings swung determinedly from her ears.

  Chloe sighed, tracing the little bits of rain that built up on the window before marching their way down to the side and bottom, held up against the glass by wind. Someone once said something about a leader being only as good as the friends and advisers she surrounded herself with. Maybe I should give Paul and Amy a little more credit.

  When they arrived at Masa—the restaurant was as neutral a meeting ground as any—they were led discreetly to the back, where Olga, Igor, and Kim were already waiting. Her mother’s eyes bulged when they all said, “Welcome home, Honored One,” and bowed. Chloe gave her mom a weak grin and shrugged.

  It was a rectangular table and Chloe immediately made for one of the long sides, next to Olga, but her mother nudged her and shook her head the slightest bit, indicating the head of the table with her eyes.

  “If you really want to stop the violence and lead your people, you have to lead them,” she murmured. “Take control, Chloe. No one’s going to take it for you.”

  Chloe nodded, seeing something in Anna King’s eyes that she’d never really paid attention to before. Something that involved a high-powered job and politics. Something about being a woman and a partner at a major firm. I’ll have to ask her about that someday, Chloe thought, slipping into the chair, sinking into its soft leather. She tried to concentrate on the impression the ass of the previous person had made on the seat to avoid the nervous feeling in her stomach.

  Igor and Olga were obviously surprised and uncomfortable with the unscheduled presence of the humans.

  “Igor, Olga, this is my mom, Anna King.” Chloe indicated with her hand. Olga got over whatever shock she felt and shook hands warmly.

  “It is so nice to meet you,” she said in her thick accent—which got noticeably thicker whenever she was stressed.

  “Hello,” Igor said curtly.

  “My friends, Paul and Amy.”

  The two Mai nodded at the two human teenagers; neither Olga nor Igor had been at the fight at the Presidio. They were busy getting actual work done, she thought with a mental snort. Not playing power games like the two old men who ruled both sides.

  “This is Olga and Igor, the Mai’s top two, uh, officials,” Chloe said.

  “Nice to meet you,” her mom said, a little coldly.

  “Paul, Amy.” Olga nodded in their direction. “Mrs. King.”

  Kim just gave a little wave—somehow completely adorable with her cat paws.

  “You know these people?” Igor asked her, astounded.

  “They’re my friends,” Kim said nonchalantly

  “I’m sorry if I compromised security,” Chloe said, indicating that the other Mai should sit down, too, as well as her mom. All three did, looking at each other a little distrustfully. “I … wasn’t sure what was going to happen next and I wanted to keep them safe.”

  “Of course,” Olga said promptly. “They helped save you, yes? They are certainly welcome with us.”

  Igor didn’t say anything.

  “Before we go any further with anything …” Chloe took a deep breath. “You should know that Sergei was trying to have me killed when this happened.”

  Kim’s eyes widened until they looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Olga slowly shook her head.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Igor said.

  “Unfortunately, it’s not.” She told them the whole story, as accurately and in as much detail as she could remember it. Especially Sergei’s exact words.

  “So basically Sergei and the Rogue had been working together to find and kill all other possible Chosen Ones, including my sister.”

  “There’s no reason,” Igor scoffed.

  “He wanted to keep power, and he was afraid of it being taken away.”

  “But you are the One,” Olga said helplessly. “Why would he do that?”

  “I just told you,” Chloe said, trying not to lose patience. Her mom gave the slightest shake of her head: Calm down, Chloe.

  “I don’t believe it,” Igor said again, taking a gulp of his coffee.

  “Okay, believe it or don’t; the fact is that he’s dead and the police are making an investigation. What do we do now?”

  Everyone around the table was quiet. Olga delicately sipped tea the waiter had brought. “We’ll talk about it at the meeting with you and all of the Pride tomorrow night,” she said.

  “I’ll teach you the main opening prayer phrase; I think that will be enough for now,” Kim volunteered.

  “Prayer…?” Chloe’s mom turned to glare at the cat girl. Kim’s ears flattened and she shrank under the older woman’s look.

  “More of an—an invocation,” she stuttered, “a traditional opening to a speech.”

  Chloe tried not to smile.

  “Let me be entirely clear on one thing: I don’t entirely approve of all this,” Anna King said firmly, “though I respect the needs and beliefs of Chloe’s native people. But if anything happens to Chloe, just remember: unlike you and the Order, I have nothing against guns.”

  Igor started to roll his eyes, but Olga kicked him under the table. Chloe imagined her mom posed with an automatic, screaming and waving the weapon back and forth, firing round after round at unseen enemies. In Chloe’s vision she still had her reading glasses on and her swinging silver earrings.

  “What do we tell everyone right now? About why you’re not there with them?” Igor demanded.

  “You tell them the truth.” Dipshit, Chloe almost added. “That it’s really dangerous right now, that the Rogue is hot on my tail—that I’ll see all of them tomorrow back at the Cat Cave.”

  “What?” Olga asked, startled.

  Whoops. It’s only funny to me, Chloe realized. “Uh—Firebird.” But Paul and Amy were smiling. “You also tell them that there is to be no retaliation. Not from individuals, not from the kizekh.”

  “But loyal Mai will insist,” Igor sputtered. “If I myself had the skills …”

  “You—tell—them—there—will—be no retaliation,” Chloe said again slowly. “No one is to do anything until after the big speechifying tomorrow night. Everyone’s eager for blood—and the Tenth Blade will be prepared and waiting once they see the news. They’ll be expecting an attack.” She hoped this sounded reasonable.

  “She’s right,” Olga said. Chloe was still stunned at the older woman’s absolute faith in her as the Chosen One. She had been just as loyal to Sergei as Igor but had no problem accepting what the new, teen spiritual leader of the Mai said, no matter how far-fetched.

  And it’s a good thing, too, considering the dagger eyes Igor’s giving me. …

>   “I believe we have a few hours lull before the storm,” Kim added. “It would be a good time to take stock and make plans.”

  “Isn’t the investigation of Sergei going to lead the police back to you guys?” Paul asked. “I mean, they’re going to look at Firebird and all of his business associates and disgruntled employees. …”

  “That’s right,” Chloe’s mom said. “Do you guys even have a plan for that kind of investigation?”

  Igor and Olga looked at each other, then at Chloe.

  Apparently not.

  Fifteen

  The next morning Chloe realized it was a Tuesday. But instead of going to school, she stayed in bed for a while and decided that with everything that was going on around her, one more day wouldn’t be the end of the world. She couldn’t deal with anything else right now. No after school makeups, no seeing anyone, no nothing. Nothing until seven o’clock that night, when she had to address the tiny tribe of homeless, leaderless Mai, over a hundred people she didn’t know, slit-eyed faces upturned to her, looking for hope.

  Chloe decided to treat it like an oral report and not worry about it until later. She stretched and sat up, letting her claws emerge for just a moment from the tips of her fingers and toes. Her pajamas were an old pair of boxers and a giant Tide T-shirt her mom had gotten free at Target or something. Big. Orange. Ugly.

  Alyec liked her in frumpy, oversized nightclothes, she remembered a little sadly.

  Chloe shook her head. She had made peace with him last week along with her homework. She had made peace with Marisol. And Sergei is, uh, at peace. Now she needed a day of peace and quiet for herself, before the shit started going down again that evening.

  I need to go on a bike ride.

  She showered off the night ick and pulled on clean jeans, a T-shirt, and a Patagonia fuzzy she rarely wore to school for fear of Amy accusing her of being crunchy. Her mom was downstairs at the table, sipping coffee and going over bills.

  “I’m going to go for a ride,” Chloe said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the mini-garage that held almost too much storage crap to fit the car anymore.