Touched With Sight (3 page)

“It isn't like David to have an unexcused absence,” Mr. Hauberk mused. “I hope he's all right.”

“
I'm sure he's fine, sir,” she said, more to comfort herself than the teacher.
David's never played truant.

Mr. Hauberk gave a little start, caught himself, and said, “Thank you. Now run along, Miss Pierce. Unless you would like to discuss your startling lack of participation in this course?”

“No thanks,” she said flatly.

“
Or perhaps
you
know something about last night's break-in?”

“
I know it saved me a shitload of work.”

He didn't really think it was her. He thought she was too stupid.  Most of the humans here did.

Mr. Hauberk sighed. “Go home, Catherine.”

She waved the folded sheaves in a flip salute. He didn't have to tell her twice.

She did wonder how she was going to get the homework to David without his parents crucifying her. She hadn't seen Mr. and Mrs. Tran for almost three years and they had always regarded her as a sort of prodigal child, even back when they had no choice but to like her.

Knowing David, he'd probably already told his parents that the two of them were friends again. He'd always been honest. Especially when it would have been better to lie.
Unless he decided to weasel out to avoid confrontation
. That was the one thing he liked less than lying. Confrontation.

Hell, if the Trans didn't greet her at the door with a sawed-off shotgun loaded with silver slugs, she'd consider the drop-off a success.

She almost didn't see Chase standing in front of the door. She smelled him before she saw him, and even then, nearly bowled right into his chest. The thought of touching him made her shudder. He was wearing frayed gym shorts and a scuffed leather jacket that reeked of BO.

There were still a few shades lingering around him. All of them were looking at her, and this iced Catherine over with a frosty layer of fear that seemed to crystallize in her lungs, and make it harder to breathe. “Did you want something?” she said coldly. “If not, could you move? I'm kind of in a rush.”

“
I
don't,” he said, and it took her a moment to realize he was responding to her original question. “But Grayson Coleman might. He's, uh, got it in for you.”

“
A lot of people have it in for me. It's practically a school sport. Why has he joined the team?”

“
Oh, yeah. I, uh, heard about the car accident.” He gave her a simpering look. “Sorry.”

She gritted her teeth. “It wasn't an 'accident.' Someone tried to run me down.”

Chase ignored this. “That's not all I've heard. Someone said you jumped on top of that truck like you thought you were, uh, Wonder Woman or something. They said your hand actually made a dent in the, uh, roof when you jumped.”

She laughed. It sounded fake, even to her own ears. “Bull-fucking-shit.”

“The first time that car hit you, you, uh, supposedly disappeared. One minute you were standing there. The next minute—” he spread his hands wide “—poof. In the air. Can you explain that?”

Catherine remembered being so sure that the car was going to hit her, remembered bracing her body for the bone-shattering impact that never came. Remembered how the air had grown hot, as if it were blowing up in her face. Remembered the pungent, acrid smell of ozone stinging her nostrils as it mingled with the scent of gasoline and burnt rubber.

“I don't know,” she said. “Magic?” And then winced.

Chase seemed to think she was being sarcastic. “That's not what I wanted to see you about, though. You were, uh, supposed to come to the Sterling Rep meeting last night. Your boss called on Tuesday and said she was sending a teen representative down. I guess she, uh, meant you.”

“So you are in Sterling Rep.” Sharon would be pleased to know she hadn't stayed away from her precious Mr. Bordello for nothing.

“
I'm treasurer,” he said with pride.

“
Good for you.” One of the shades was standing so close to her that she could have reached out and touched it. She shivered, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her coat just in case morbid curiosity got the better of her.

She looked over his shoulder, trying to see if Karen was waiting outside, but the windows were too small and too grimy to tell. Chase was still looking at her expectantly. “Sorry I'm fresh out of gold stars.”

“We had a welcoming reception planned and everything. Grayson Coleman is our president. He's the one who organized it all, so he took it personally when you didn't show.” Chase gave her a look that made her want to punch him. “Frankly, we think you have the wrong attitude.”

“
Any teacher could have told you that.” She shrugged. “I'm sorry I missed the meeting and hurt your little feely-weels okay? Something came up. I got busy. Can I go now?”

Chase didn't budge. “Doing?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“
Pierce! Hill!” Mr. Hauberk barked. “My classroom is not a place for socializing. Take it outside.”

They glared at each other. Then, with unnecessary slowness, Chase stepped out of her path.

“There's another meeting next week,” he called. “Maybe you should, uh, show up this time.”

Catherine gave him the finger without looking back. She didn't have time for these games. She had to get out of here before the witch could—

“Meeting?” a cool voice inquired, shattering her train of thought and filling her heart with dread. “And what meeting might that be, Catherine Pierce?”

Chapter Two

Catherine whirled around to see Karen leaning against the wall of the science building, looking as if she'd just stepped off the pages of a European fashion magazine in her designer jeans and expensive top. This made Catherine resentfully aware of her own tatty appearance.

It also reminded her why she hated witches.

As if I needed reminding.

“Why is everyone so interested in my personal life all of a sudden?”

Karen smiled, revealing small sharp teeth. “Maybe because you're running with the wrong crowd, Catherine Pierce.”

Catherine shot her a very ugly look. “Stop saying my name like that.”

Karen laughed, and before Catherine was fully aware of what was happening, she found herself being dragged into the girls' restroom by her coattails.

Where no one will see what she's about to do to us
, said Prey.

Catherine broke free only to stagger backwards with a sudden familiar weakness.
Silver. She has silver
. “The hell are you doing? Get your filthy hands off me! You're breaking the truce!”

The fact that Karen didn't even bother speaking up in her defense said volumes.

Catherine's cries and snarls echoed brightly off the bathroom tiles, but no one came running, so she stopped. She would not look weak in front of this witch. But that didn't mean she wasn't concerned.

I'm in big trouble if she's used a glamor to shield the place.

“Let—me—
go
, you bitch!”

With a grunt, the witch shoved her against the bathroom wall. Thin curls of mist circled her wrists, as her flailing limbs were caught in a current that she could neither see nor feel. Catherine tugged at her arms, but the wispy bonds were as hard and impenetrable as steel. “Get this crap off me!”

Karen slapped her—hard. “Shut up, you little fool!”

Catherine stared at her, shocked and furious, as her cheek pulsed where Karen's hand had likely left its reddish imprint.

Karen took a deep breath, and continued speaking, quieter this time but no less angrily.

“
You really are a fool. Of course, I've come to expect that from your kind—you certainly didn't win the War through your ingenious stratagems—” her laughter sounded off the disinfected tiles like a silver bell “—but you—
you
have exceeded all expectation.”

“
Yeah, well, I aim to please. What is this
shi—”

“
You
aim
to destroy everything the Council has been trying to achieve these last hundred years.”

“
That's a lot of asses to shove sticks into,” Catherine said. “You must be pretty busy.”

“
At least David knows his place. You are completely out of line. Changing in public. Hanging out with known Slayers. Possessing black magic. My parents would—” she broke off again, perhaps realizing she was undermining her own authority.

Or maybe she'd noticed the sneer forming on Catherine's face.

“—what was that just now? What are your dealings with that boy? Why is he inviting you to meetings?”

Catherine's head was spinning faster than a top. Known Slayers? What was this bitch talking about? She didn't know any slayers.
Unless…

Karen leaned into her face. “Well?”

“Get out of my face.”

“
Answer the question first.”

She wouldn't dare
, Catherine thought.
Not if I weren't bound
. “Those were shades. Ghosts of the departed. Can't move on to the next life so they're stuck here and pissed about it—something they and I have in common right now,” she added, in a snarl. “And
that boy
is Chase. We don't have dealings. He just stalks me. I'm popular like that.”

“
Must be your charming personality,” Karen said nastily.

“
Should I even bother asking if you were behind that clusterfuck in the hills?” Catherine paused, wanting to hear the answer. It was her ace in the hole.

“
Oh yes,” the witch said absently. “He's mine. And you'll do well to remember that, Catherine Pierce, because he'll do anything I tell him to. Anything. Even bring me your heart in a Fabergé box if I ask.”

Said heart knocked against Catherine's ribcage. She remembered the witch's cold eyes. The sharpness of his silver blade. She had no doubt the male witch was more than capable of carrying out this task. She just couldn't quite believe that he'd take orders from Karen. Or anyone, really.

“He's insane,” she said aloud, snarling it to hide the shakiness of her voice. False bravado. An old Predator trick to make one's enemies think one is more formidable than one really is.

“
Best not provoke him, then,” Karen said lightly. “Or me. It would be far too easy.”

There was an edge in her voice as she studied Catherine in a way she really didn't care for.

“Or haven't you noticed that you've been followed this whole time?”

Catherine flinched, in spite of herself.

“No? And to think you're supposed to be these revered hunters…”

“
Fuck. You.”

Karen eyed her for a moment. “You didn't happen to pay a visit to the sociology building on your way back from breaking into the biology lab, did you, Catherine Pierce?”

“What do
you
think?”

“
I'm not quite sure,” Karen said, unexpectedly. “That's why I'm asking you.”

“
Well, we didn't go near it,” Catherine snapped.

“
We,” Karen repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting. A second ago it was 'I.'”

“
I meant 'I,'” Catherine said. “
I
didn't go near it. Now let me go.”

The mist disappeared with an audible hiss, and two strands of silver fell to the floor like snakes. Catherine dropped to her knees, gasping a little, and her book bag fell beside her with a thud that echoed dully as its contents spilled out on the filthy washroom floor.

“What do you witches want from me?” she said, looking up. “Blood? I don't fucking appreciate being stalked and attacked.”

Karen didn't seem to hear. Her face had gone the color of pale marble.

The book—

It had slipped out of her bag and opened up, as if by magic, to the page saved with the leather mark. The black, hazy aura swung as wildly as a broken compass. The tendrils reached out towards Karen like grasping fingers. She took a step backwards.

“So,” she said, slightly breathlessly, “This is it.”

Without taking her eyes from the pages, Karen walked towards the book. Catherine watched her pick it up with a protest in her throat, but Karen handled it gently, almost lovingly, as if it were a baby. But there was a fear in her eyes—fear, and something more hunted.

“Is it real?” she heard herself asking.

“
Yes. Very real.” Karen closed the book and set it down. “They're looking for it.”

The way Karen said 'they're' made Catherine's hair stand on end. She thought of the flickering shadows in the biology classroom, melting in and out of the shadows like the blobs of wax inside a lava lamp.

“No,” Karen said, correctly interpreting Catherine's expression. “They're the symptom, not the cause.”

“
Slayers,” Catherine hissed.

“
So you
can
learn,” said Karen.

Catherine tensed but decided to ignore the barb. “What would Slayers want with a spell book? They don't have magic.”

A laugh tinkled from Karen's throat. “That's not entirely true. They do have magic. Magic that they stole—from us.” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “From our blood. They call it ichor, from Greek mythology. The blood of the gods—” another laugh “—then again, to them I suppose we are. Gods, I mean.”

Arrogant witch.
“Why do the Slayers want it?”

“
Because that's a Slayer's spell book you've got. A very old one. It's been lost for years.”

“
Then I'll destroy it.” Catherine let herself shift over—just enough to sharpen her nails and brighten her eyes. “And tear it to ribbons.”

“
No.” Karen lurched towards her unsteadily, her eyes gleaming with raw panic. “If you do that, you'll release the black magic that binds it and kill us both.”

Catherine looked down at the book, at the pulsing aura. Karen might be lying. Maybe she and her witch friend wanted the book for their own purposes. Catherine sneaked another look at her face. As she watched, Karen's eyes narrowed and she saw a wall come up beneath her features as though she realized that she'd let herself lose face in front of a lowly shape-shifter.
Maybe not.

“
The book cannot be destroyed. Not by any member of the Otherkind. You can't see the aura, but it's—”

“
Surrounded by black mist?” Catherine interjected.

Karen stared at her for what seemed like a very long time. “Where did you get it?”

“The Public Library.”

She should have known this. The male witch had asked her the exact same question.

Unless they aren't in cahoots, after all.

Catherine shook her head. Witches were as dishonest as they were tempermental. It didn't surprise her in the least to find out that they lied even to each other. “But that's not the point. Where did the book come from? It's like appeared like it appeared out of nowhere.”

Karen laughed again. It was a beautiful laugh; and completely mirthless. “Of course. It wanted to be found. When something becomes that powerful, it develops a consciousness of its own, replete with ulterior motives. These can sometimes be benign, but if the shades are involved—” she didn't finish. She didn't have to. “The Chase boy must be involved with the Slayers. It senses their influence—their magic—on him. It never would have chosen him otherwise.”

Catherine's eyes widened. “The Slayers are in the school.”

“Yes.”

The door opened and Mrs. Finley, one of the math teachers, walked in. She eyed the two girls curiously. “Karen,” she said, acknowledging the witch. Of course. She would know Karen, fucking teacher's pet. Then Mrs. Finley saw Catherine and her expression darkened, turning suspicious. Oh, she knew who Catherine was, too. “What are you girls doing in here?”

“Catherine was having an asthma attack in biology, Mrs. Finley,” Karen chirped. “We were examining flower pollen under the microscope.”

“
Oh?” Mrs. Finley's expression twisted a little, her jaw going slack. She straightened her blouse out absently. “Is that all?”

Catherine stared at the teacher in astonishment. Then her eyes flicked to Karen. She was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I was asked to escort her to the lavatory. Do you need to see my hall pass?” The magic around her pulsed, rising with the inflection of her voice.

Mrs. Finley blinked. “No, no—that won't be necessary. School is out, anyway.”

She looked at Catherine.

“
Shouldn't she be in the nurse's office?”

“
She has her inhaler. We'll be fine now, Mrs. Finley. You can go.”

Catherine's throat felt blocked as she watched the math teacher simply walk back outside as if she had forgotten her reason for coming into the bathrooms in the first place.

Karen gave her a knowing glance. “You should listen to David. It would be a very good idea not to use your…abilities for a while. Especially not in school. You do have somewhat of a reputation.”

“
Is that a threat, witch?”

“
What are you going to do if it is?” Karen said pleasantly. “I hear you can't even kill.”

“
You—”

“
Tell me, is it out of some sort of perverted sense of honor, or are you just a coward?”

Catherine froze, her scathing retort withering like dust in her mouth. “You know
nothing
.” She took a step forward. “You don't fucking know—”

“
Careful,” Karen said lightly, shoving past her. Catherine grit her teeth so hard that they ached. “Wouldn't want a teacher to see you bullying the valedictorian.”

Catherine halted unwillingly, folding her arms tightly across her chest to keep from attacking the witch. “Fuck you,” she said again, with less conviction this time.

“You know what I think, Catherine Pierce?” Karen leaned closer, bending to reach Catherine's ear. “I think you're a coward—and so does he. Don't fuck with me, or I'll let him have you.”

With a final, mocking smile, Karen skipped out the door, leaving the bathroom silent save for the quiet gurgle of the old pipes.

Catherine felt as if she'd been socked in the gut.

What was she supposed to do? Play into their stereotype like a good little savage? Seduce and fuck and kill humans? Tear animals limb from limb and revel in the bloodshed?