The Veil (19 page)

He was looking right at me.

He was also holding something behind his back. As I watched, he brought his hands in front of him; there was something long and red curled inside the fingers of his right hand.

A flare.

Very slowly, the man picked up the flare gun and, to my amazement, loaded the flare cartridge into the barrel. Then,
watching me as he did so, he replaced the gun on the table, winked at me and ran off stage right.

I immediately looked over at Luc—he was already looking at me, but his eyebrows went up when he saw the look on my face. He spread his hands and mouthed “
what
?” He must not have seen the man. The freestanding door on stage left blocked his view of the stage.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you, Victoria?”

My eyes snapped back to the stage as Casey snatched up the flare gun and pointed it at Olivia. The play was still going on; clearly, neither Olivia nor Casey had seen the man.

“Casey!” I whispered urgently.

She did not hear me.

“Lila!” Olivia squealed. “You mean it’s been
you
all along? How could you?”

Just like in rehearsal, Olivia took two steps backward, and Casey let loose that alarmingly devious laugh of hers.

I looked desperately at Luc, and pointed at Casey, mouthing the word
gun
.

I could tell from his face he still didn’t know exactly what I was trying to tell him, but he dropped the curtain rope and started to make his way over to me, crouching down behind scenery and using his ability to disappear in order to stay out of sight of the audience.

But then I heard Casey utter the last line of the scene (“I’m the only one who deserves to see a dime of the old bag’s money—and now there will be one less person in my way”), and I knew he was not going to make it in time. In a panic, I watched as Casey paused dramatically, looking down the barrel of the gun at Olivia. The horror on Olivia’s face couldn’t have been more real if she’d known the flare gun was actually loaded.

Casey’s fingers closed around the trigger—I had only two seconds to react.

“
No!
” Dropping the starter pistol, I threw aside the foam core wall and dove at Casey. I smashed into her from the left, sending her flying backward with me on top of her. The gun, still in her hand, pointed up to the ceiling as her fingers squeezed the trigger.

There was a deafening
pop,
and a shower of red sparks as the flare shot upward and lodged itself in the heavy curtain around the auditorium stage. The curtain burst into flames, which quickly spread down both panels of the crimson fabric until the entire stage was rimmed with fire. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the tall, shaggy man, watching us from backstage right, just behind Terrance and Mrs. Grimsby.

The man winked at me again and disappeared out of the auditorium’s side door.

Olivia, and a good portion of the audience, began to scream.

Luc pulled me off of Casey, who stared up at me with a look of total shock on her face. Olivia stood center stage, still screaming, watching as the audience stampeded for the exits.

Terrance leapt on stage, fire extinguisher in hand, but Mrs. Grimsby grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him off stage right.

“Too late!” she exclaimed. “Everyone outside—right now!”

Luc kept a very tight grip on my arm as we filed outside the auditorium’s back entrance, along with the rest of the cast and crew. Outside was pandemonium; the audience rushed out of the theater and Principal Chatsworth stood atop one of the benches outside of the administration wing, attempting to call everybody to order. Smoke poured out of the auditorium windows; in the distance, I could hear sirens heading in our direction.

Luc hauled me away and around the side of the cafeteria. It was only when we were out of sight of the others that I realized I was shaking violently.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gripping my shoulders and looking down at me. His expression was concerned, but he was also looking
at me as though he thought it was just possible I’d lost my mind. “What
happened
?”

“The gun was loaded!” I was pretty sure I was yelling—the pop from the live flare gun had been a lot louder than the starter pistol in rehearsal, and my ears were still ringing.

“Shhh!” he glanced around to make sure there was nobody in earshot. “No kidding!” he said, keeping his voice low. “How did you know?”

“I saw a man! An Annorasi man—I think.”

Luc’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, and I realized I wasn’t making much sense.

“He was on stage! He put a flare into the gun right before Casey picked it up. I couldn’t see him until I took my glasses off. Didn’t you see him?”

“No. Have you ever seen him before?”

“A couple of times,” I told him, a bit guiltily. “Around school, before I got the glasses. You
really
didn’t see him?”

“I didn’t see anything on stage,” Luc admitted. “I was watching you.”

My stomach gave an excited jump at those words, but anything else he might have been planning to say was drowned out by the three enormous fire trucks that barreled into the parking lot behind us, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

Luc pulled my attention back to him. “What did the man look like?”

“He was—tall,” I stammered. “Tall and skinny, with scraggly-looking hair—”

“Damn!” Luc pounded a fist against his open, left hand.

“Do you know him?” I asked, but he was too angry to answer.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had seen him around school?” Luc demanded. His voice was suddenly accusatory and scary, just like it had been in the car on the way to the lake, when he thought I’d spilled the beans about the Annorasi world to Nate.

“I didn’t think it was important! I didn’t know he was actually a man at first—until tonight, I thought he was just a creature, like Sonya.”

Luc ran a hand through his hair. I’d never seen him look so worried. That alone started to get me worried too, and it got my mind going places I didn’t like.

Why would that man want to hurt Olivia?

“Who is he?” I asked Luc. “Is he one of the Others?”

“We’re going to have to come up with something,” Luc mumbled; I wasn’t even sure he’d heard my question. “Something to tell people.”

But before either of us could come up with a brilliant story, “people” were upon us in the form of Mrs. Grimsby, Principal Chatsworth, three firefighters, Olivia and her dad, and a hysterically sobbing Casey.

——

“I’m
so sorry,
Olivia!” Casey kept blabbering as firefighters rushed into the auditorium, dragging water hoses and axes behind them. “I’m
so sorry
! I didn’t know! I
swear
I didn’t—”

“Hold up there, young lady.” A heavily mustached fireman, who seemed to be in charge, put a hand on Casey’s shoulder and guided her gently to a bench before turning to face the adults.

Olivia left her dad’s side and came over to stand beside me. She gripped my left hand hard in hers; Luc was already crushing my right hand, and he was searching through the crowd behind me.

Looking for the man
, I thought to myself.
The man he seems to know.

“Let’s just start from the beginning,” Moustache Man said. “You say there was a school play going on in there?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Grimsby stepped forward. “We were using a flare gun to simulate a murder scene. Ms. Hamilton was our shooter—” she pointed to Casey—“and Ms. Barton was the victim.”

Principal Chatsworth inhaled sharply and glared at Mrs.
Grimsby. “You mean you allowed them to use a
real gun
?” he demanded of the drama teacher.

Mrs. Grimsby, who was not one to be easily startled, even by the near death of one of her students or the fact that her theater was on fire, stood her ground. “Obviously it was not supposed to be loaded.”

“Who does the gun belong to?” Moustache Man asked.

Olivia raised her hand, and it was her father’s turn to gape.

“
Olivia!
”

“And were you the one who loaded it?” Moustache Man inquired.

“Obviously not,” Olivia retorted, locked in a glaring contest with her father. “I’m the one who almost got
shot with it !
”

Everyone turned to look at Casey.

“I didn’t know it was loaded!” she said pleadingly. “I didn’t even touch it until I picked it up from the table, like I was supposed to, right before . . .” she trailed off. Then her eyes wandered over to me and widened. “Addy tackled me right before I shot the gun!
She
must have known there was a flare in it!”

Everyone’s heads now swung around in my direction, and Luc’s grip on me tightened to the point where I actually wanted to gasp in pain. He was paying attention to the interrogation, but he was also scanning the crowd, looking for the man I had seen.

“What exactly was your role in this production, young lady?” Moustache Man asked me; his eyes narrowed.

“Props,” I said, clearing my suddenly dry throat. My mind was racing; I had to think of something plausible, immediately. “I put the gun on the table at intermission, but I forgot to check to see if it was loaded. When I saw Casey pick it up, I remembered I hadn’t checked. I sort of panicked, and Casey didn’t hear me when I tried to get her attention, so I ran onstage.”

“I’m glad you did.” Olivia hugged me suddenly, and I could feel Luc’s hold on my arm relax somewhat. I let out a ragged breath, frankly shocked my lie had sounded so good.

“Why did you think the gun might have had a flare in it?” Principal Chatsworth demanded suddenly. “Did you have any reason to suspect someone had fooled around with it?”

“No,” I told him. “I was just nervous—it was being pointed at one of my best friends.”

The fire chief nodded as though this all made sense to him.

But Principal Chatsworth continued to glare at me. “You expect us to believe you burst onto the stage because, for no reason at all, you had an
inkling
the gun might be loaded—and by some strange coincidence, your inkling ended up being correct?”

I shrugged.

Principal Chatsworth abruptly turned to Mrs. Grimsby. “You are fired, Eleanor,” he said, then swung his attention back to me, Luc, Olivia, and Casey. “And I have half a mind to expel the lot of you.”

“Now see here,” Mr. Barton stepped forward. “My daughter was almost the victim here. I will not have you blaming her for something that was very clearly not her fault—her, or her friends.”

“Are you saying Olivia had your permission to borrow your flare gun?” the principal asked him skeptically. He looked like he was trying to figure out some way he could either fire or expel Mr. Barton along with the rest of us.

“I certainly did
not
give her permission to use it,” Mr. Barton thundered, giving Olivia a look that made her hand start to quiver in mine. “And believe me, she’s going to be punished within an inch of her life for it. But that is a private matter, and I won’t have you blemishing her official record because some punk thought it would be funny to play a little joke backstage.”

Moustache Man excused himself briefly to confer with one of the firefighters who had emerged from the blackened auditorium which, I realized with a shock, was almost entirely caved in and virtually unrecognizable. I had a moment of panic when I realized I had not seen Nate since the fire started, but I caught a glimpse of
him a moment later, giving his statement to a police officer. He gave me a small wave; I waved back.

Principal Chatsworth and Olivia’s dad continued to glare at each other, Casey continued to cry, and Luc and Olivia kept their slightly loosened grips on either side of me until Moustache Man returned—with both good and bad news.

“Looks like the building is going to be a total loss,” he said. “But at least we’ve got it under control now and we’ve prevented the flames from spreading. The rest of the school should be fine. And there are no reports of anyone not making it out, so it looks like we’re in the clear as far as casualties.”

“
Casualties
?” Principal Chatsworth repeated, clearly aghast such a word was even being used. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to blot his shiny bald head.

“And unless anybody tells me different,” Moustache Man continued, shooting me, Olivia, Luc, and Casey each a stern look, “I’m going to tentatively list this as an accident. Special effects gone wrong. The police chief will do his own investigation, of course, but he’ll most likely agree with my assessment.” He raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off of me. “Does anyone have anything else they want to tell me?”

I shook my head; Olivia, Luc, and Casey shook theirs as well.

“Okay then. Stick around, all of you. I’m sure the police will have a few questions for you.”

——

Unfortunately, the Novato Police Department turned out to be a bit savvier than the Moustache Man. A uniformed officer took my statement at the scene, and from the look on his face (illuminated by the still-smoldering ruins of the auditorium), I could tell he didn’t buy a word of my “I-just-had-a-weird-feeling” story.

In short order, the police carted me, Luc, Olivia, Casey, Nate, Terrance, Mrs. Grimsby, and Principal Chatsworth back to the station for questioning. Luc was finally forced to let go of my hand when we were ushered into separate interrogation rooms.

My room contained only two chairs and a metal table. Being in there by myself, waiting for what I could only assume was going to be a spotlight and a good cop/bad cop routine, made me feel so much like a real criminal I had to stop and remind myself I hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

Well, okay, maybe I wasn’t totally innocent. I was probably at least partially responsible for the fire—it had been my running tackle of Casey that had, after all, caused her to fire the flare gun into the curtain. But if I hadn’t jumped on her, she would have fired straight at Olivia. Surely that earned me some sort of reprieve—something in keeping with the lesser-of-two-evils theory?

There was nothing for it but to repeat my story to the extremely young-looking police officer who eventually showed up to talk to me. He had a wispy, blonde goatee, which kept twitching in irritation—clearly, like the officer who had interviewed me at the scene, he did not believe a word I was saying. And I didn’t have much better luck convincing the older, salt and pepper–haired officer who eventually took Officer Goatee’s place.