Incubus (10 page)

yesterday?”

“Because it is,” I answered, my voice harsher than I intended. Lucas winced at me, raw emotions

coursing through his features. Softening my tone, I moved to the counter beside him. “The seal was

there yesterday. It was there the day before, too. If we’re right, it’s been there for centuries. That

hasn’t changed. The only thing that has changed is now we know.”

Lucas nodded, letting his eyes drop to the floor. “I guess you’re right.”

“Lucas?”

“I don’t know,” he said, anticipating me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Besides being exhausted?” I asked. “What kept you up last night?”

“We’re practically living on the doorstep into the Lilitu world.” Lucas looked up at me, eyes

drawn with exhaustion. “That doesn’t creep you out?”

“Sure it does,” I said.

“I guess there are some benefits to being able to will yourself to sleep.” Lucas pushed his bowl of

cereal away. “We should get a move on or we’re going to be late. The last thing I need is an after-

hours detention.” Lucas offered a weak smile. “I’m kind of looking forward to a normal day at school,

actually.”

We made it through morning classes before we saw him.

“No.” Lucas came to a dead stop in the entrance to the dining hall.

“What?” I asked, sensing the anger welling inside him. I followed his gaze and stared. “No way.”

Two steps behind us, Cassie and Royal peered over our shoulders, straining to see whatever it was

that had stopped us in our tracks.

The skinny blond boy from the mission was sitting at a dining table alone, wolfing down a plate of

enchiladas. He paused between bites to take a swig of milk. As he set his glass down, he saw us and

froze. Lucas took an unconscious step toward him. The skinny boy stood abruptly, picked up his plate,

and fled in the direction of the kitchen.

“I don’t get it,” Royal said. “What are we staring at?”

Lucas and I traded a quick glance. “Nothing,” Lucas said. “My mistake. I thought I saw a

cockroach.” He gave Cassie and Royal a smile. “Let’s eat.”

“Oh, yay,” Cassie said half-heartedly. “So hungry now.”

“You guys sit.” Royal had that look on his face he gets when he’s planning something devious.

“I’ll grab the food.” He turned on his heel and hurried away. I caught sight of something black and

pink in his hands as he turned away from us.

I followed Cassie and Lucas to our usual table. Royal appeared with a tray piled with food a few

minutes later. Coronado Prep served family-style lunches, so we took turns passing around the serving

tray of enchiladas. One of the best things about this school was the kitchen staff. They didn’t do

authentic New Mexican dishes every day, but when they did they were spot on. I scooped two

enchiladas onto my plate and the aroma of seasoned chicken jolted my stomach awake. Handing the

dish off to Lucas, I took a bite. The tender chicken would have been delicious on its own, but coupled

with melted cheddar and green chili sauce it was heaven. Judging by the sudden silence at our table, I

wasn’t the only one savoring the meal.

“You must be Miss Ang.”

I opened my eyes at the rich masculine voice. Mr. Hart stood by our table, smiling down at Cassie.

Cassie’s eyes bulged slightly as she struggled to swallow a bite of food.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Mr. Hart pulled the empty chair beside Cassie out and sat, placing

something on the table in front of him. Cassie and I saw the black and pink notebook at the same

moment. Cassie’s eyes widened, and she turned on Royal.

“What did you do?” Cassie looked mortified.

“Before you skin me alive, just listen.” Royal glanced at Mr. Hart. “Talk fast, drama man.”

“Royal,” Cassie hissed.

“Your friend has done me a huge favor, Miss Ang,” Mr. Hart said.

Cassie glanced back at him, her cheeks flushing a rosy red. “It’s just Cassie,” she mumbled.

Mr. Hart flipped open the notebook to a drawing I hadn’t seen before. Cassie had taken her earlier

sketches of the gown and fleshed them out. What had been beautiful before was simply stunning now.

It seemed to be two dresses, one of which was worn over the other. The inner gown was snug from the

shoulders to the waist, with tight sleeves long enough to cover most of the back of the hand. Below the

waist, the dress flowed into a full skirt, which hung in luxurious folds all the way to the floor. The

outer dress was open along the sides from the top of the shoulder to the hips, revealing the form-

fitting curves of the inner dress beneath. One corner of the outer dress was tucked up into a low-slung

sash across the hips, revealing the swirling skirt of the inner dress. There was something both simple

and luxurious about the draped fabric. To top the entire costume off, an understated metal circlet

rested on the figure’s head.

“What were you thinking for this material?” Mr. Hart gestured reverently at the overdress.

“Uh,” Cassie glanced around, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “I was picturing a silk

dupioni,” she said.

“And for the detail fabric here?” He brushed the narrow sleeves peeking out from under the

billows of fabric of the outer dress. “Satin brocade?”

“Actually, I was thinking cut velvet, since she’s a queen,” Cassie said.

Mr. Hart shook his head slowly. “That’s fantastic,” he said slowly. “What kind of palette?”

Cassie sat up a bit straighter, pointing out elements of the drawing as she talked. “Since it’s a

tragedy, I was thinking the costumes should all be in muted gem-tones. So the outer dress is a grayish

sapphire color and the inner dress, the cut velvet, is a light silver. You could even use the inner dress

on its own for the scene where the queen is almost burned at the stake.”

“Perfect. You’re hired.”

Cassie looked up, startled. “Hired for what?”

“Costume design,” Mr. Hart said, as though it were obvious. “Royal’s already told me you’re

completely capable of making all of these garments.”

“But—” Cassie shook her head, struggling to process what was happening. “There must be 30

costumes in that show.”

Mr. Hart looked aside, calculating silently for a moment before speaking. “46.”

“I can’t sew that fast,” Cassie said faintly, her face falling.

“Of course not,” Mr. Hart replied. “We’ll get some parents to help with the chorus. You’re in

charge of the hero costumes. Guinevere, Arthur, Lancelot, Mortimer. Don’t worry,” he said when

Cassie’s mouth opened in protest, “you’ll have plenty of hands to help.” He placed a hand on the

notebook, giving Cassie a confident smile. “If what I’ve seen is any indication, you’re going to ace

this class.”

“Class?”

“Cassie, the level of skill you demonstrate in these drawings is worth an AP credit at the very

least. I wouldn’t be surprised if these costumes got you a college scholarship.”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “A scholarship?” We all heard the excitement in her

voice. A smile broke out over her face, and for a moment she was the old Cassie, impish and confident

and eager for a challenge.

Mr. Hart’s smile broadened. “All in good time. Are you in?”

“She’s in,” Royal said, satisfaction shining in his eyes.

Cassie turned on Royal with a wicked grin. “On one condition,” she said, holding up a finger. “I’ll

need an assistant.”

“Done.” Mr. Hart stood and offered Cassie his hand. She shook it, grinning. “I’m hoping to hold

our first meeting with the design team on Friday after school. Does that work for you?”

“It does.”

“Great. Don’t forget to bring your assistant.” Mr. Hart gave Royal a bland smile and left.

Royal looked between Cassie and the retreating Mr. Hart, suddenly finding himself on the spot.

“Wait, you don’t mean me?”

“You got me into this,” Cassie shrugged. “Did you think you’d be able to walk away scot-free?”

Royal’s eyes narrowed unhappily. “I admit, I hadn’t thought it through that far.”

“It does seem like a fair penance,” Lucas murmured.

Royal glared at him, but I could tell his resistance was fading. After a moment, Royal sighed.

“Right. I’ll assist you. As long as you don’t expect me to do any sewing. Or take notes. Or run errands.

I don’t make lunches. The occasional coffee is negotiable.”

“Perfect.” Cassie looped her arm through Royal’s. “First step, fabric samples.” She looked at me,

beaming. “What do you say, Braedyn? Want to join us? It’ll be just like old times.”

I smiled at Cassie’s enthusiasm. “Sure.”

Royal glanced at Lucas. “You too, Lucas. You’re one of us now. That means if you’re in it for the

good times, you have to take part in the crazy-girl escapa—ouch!” Royal made a face as Cassie kicked

him lightly under the table.

“Don’t scare him,” she chided sweetly.

Lucas gave me a warm look. “I’m in.” He took another bite of enchilada.

Cassie pulled her notebook closer and opened it to a fresh page. “Maybe we should try—” she

started sketching, abandoning the thought mid-sentence.

Royal caught my gaze over the table and smiled. Silently I mouthed,
thank you.
Royal nodded,

glancing back at Cassie. I had a feeling we’d all get pulled into the Coronado Prep theater scene this

semester. But seeing Cassie this happy made it totally worth it.

After school, Lucas and I found a spot to sit on a retaining wall along one edge of the theater building.

We were waiting for Cassie and Royal to join us. Cassie had wanted to run a few ideas by Mr. Hart

before our fabric-hunt began.

“So what is this place?” Lucas asked.

“It’s a specialty fabric store. It’s near Old Town,” I said. “It’s got some material, but Cassie likes

it because they’ve got books and books full of fabric samples that you can order. She knows that place

inside out.”

“You’re telling me the whole store—all they sell is fabric?”

“Yes.”

“So, I should bring a book.”

I hit Lucas on the shoulder playfully. “Tread carefully, mister. Or else you’ll be dreaming of pink

taffeta for a month.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Lucas said, half-pleading.

I was getting ready to laugh at his forlorn expression when I heard something from behind the

theater. Lucas and I turned toward the sound in the same moment.

“What was that?” But I knew, even before we heard another meaty crack, followed by a half-grunt,

half-sob. We ran around the side of the theater.

Three seniors ringed a smaller, fair-haired boy. Two of them held his arms while the third, an

athletic guy with his shirtsleeves rolled up, swung a fist hard across the smaller boy’s face. The boy

hung between them, taking the impact with a hoarse cry. His glasses were on the ground, but I

recognized him anyway. That skinny boy from the mission. The athletic boy hit him again, and he

gave another sharp grunt of pain.

“Hey,” I called, rushing forward. “What are you doing? Leave him alone!”

The seniors glanced up at me. The skinny boy struggled to stand up between the two guys holding

him. One of them, a freckled boy, recognized me and grinned.

“Dude,” he said to the athletic boy. “It’s the chick from that fight at the mission. You better do