Blazing the Trail (6 page)

It was almost time for the alarm to go off, so I seized the opportunity and claimed the shower first.

W
HEN I CAME BACK INTO
her room, Meagan was awake, sitting up in bed and typing on her messenger. The light from the handheld device was bluish and made her features look spooky.

Or maybe it was my mood.

“Jessica says something is going on,” she whispered by way of greeting. I sat down hard, fighting my doubts. “She has to go someplace. Do you think it has anything to do with Mozart?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t she say?”

“No.” Meagan had her Einstein look as she surveyed me. “There’s one part of your dream that doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that?”

“Trevor and Adrian don’t have the NightBlade,” she said. “Kohana does.”

“Maybe they don’t need it for the Invocation of Destruction ceremony.”

Meagan shook her head. “No. When Garrett and I translated that old book of the Mages’, it was clear that the NightBlade was needed for
any
ceremony.” Meagan pursed
her lips. “It must be that they’ll do this on the
next
full moon. Not tonight’s.”

Instinctively I felt that it had to be sooner. I thought of Derek and his ability to see two or three minutes into the future. A month’s warning seemed like too much, even for a Wyvern. “I think we four wildcards need to work together to solve this, like it’s a test of the alliance, too. Can you ask Jessica to meet us before school?”

“You could ask her.”

“You’re already talking to her.” It was an excuse and we both knew it.

Meagan frowned at her messenger. “She’s not answering anymore.”

I didn’t much like the sound of that, but Meagan seemed untroubled. “Don’t worry, Zoë. We’ll see her at school. Whatever she has to do can’t take that long.”

But I did worry.

It seems to come with the territory.

M
Y MOM
’
S RED ELECTRIC
T
OYOTA
didn’t start right away that morning, which just figured. Meagan’s parents were gone already, so we were on our own. If the engine didn’t start, we’d have to walk, and I did not want to walk in this snow.

“I hate this piece of junk,” I said as I opened the hood. I tried to look like I had a clue what to do, but, of course, I had no idea.

“At least you have a car.”

“Not mine, really. Just a loaner.” I sighed and frowned at the mystery of the engine. “I wish my dad had let me use the Lamborghini.”

“Did you ask?”

I smiled. “Of course!”

“And?”

“He laughed and tossed me the keys to this one.”

“Well, he is crazy for that car.”

“He never even drives it anymore. It’s like a shrine or something.”

“What about that flashy new sedan he just bought? What is it, anyway?”

“Another Maserati,” I said. “He says he likes Italian cars best.”

“Well?”

“He drove it to the airport and parked it there.”

“So you couldn’t drive it?”

“I’m thinking so.” I jiggled a pair of wires, then opened and closed the reservoir for the windshield-wiper fluid. You never knew.

“Is it charged up?” Meagan asked.

I nodded. That was one part I understood. I closed the hood, knowing there was nothing else I could do. “Let’s try it again.” We got back in and I turned the key. To my astonishment, the car started. Meagan hooted with glee. The engine wasn’t running very well, but it settled into a choppy purr that was an approximation of its usual noise.

“What did you do?” Meagan asked. “What was that cap?”

“The windshield-fluid reservoir.”

She laughed. “I thought you knew what you were doing.”

“No idea.” I counted off on my fingers as the car warmed up. “I know how to fill the wiper fluid, to top up the oil, to charge the battery, and to lock the doors. Not that anyone would want to steal this heap.”

“Maybe your mom will get a new car and you’ll be able to drive that.”

“Maybe.” It was an optimistic thought, one that got me
through the painful moment of driving into the school parking lot. It seemed as if everybody turned to stare.

And snicker.

I drove the battered and rusted red car through the array of shiny, beautiful luxury vehicles and felt like the poor country cousin. I could not figure out why my mom didn’t want a new one, but she said she loved this one—and that it was more environmentally responsible to keep using it.

I just wished it looked better.

“It runs,” Meagan insisted when I’d parked. “It’s free and we get to use it.” She gave me a look. “All good.”

“All good,” I agreed. “But the Lamborghini would be better. Just once, I’d like to drive it into this lot. Everyone would notice that!”

Meagan grinned and opened her door. “Sounds like your dad isn’t the only one who likes Italian cars.” She slammed the door as I got out. “My dad just likes Italian concertos, and you can’t drive them anywhere.”

We laughed together and headed to school.

She bumped my shoulder on the way. “You never know. Take care of this one and he might let you take your dream drive.”

I didn’t argue with her. It could theoretically happen. It would have had a better chance of happening with any other father and any other car.

Still, a dragon girl could hope.

D
ESPITE THE FACT THAT WE
were later than usual, there was no sign of Jessica. Usually, she was waiting for Meagan outside the doors, but not today.

I deliberately forced my suspicions out of my mind. Maybe Jessica was actually in danger. The Mages had nearly sacrificed her at Halloween.

Skuld had corrected me—not what
will
be but what
might
be. Could Trevor and Adrian save the third kid if they had another victim ready?

“We’ve got to find Jessica,” I said. “Is she answering her messenger yet?”

“No, but she’ll be in math class,” Meagan said with a confidence I didn’t feel.

“I really need to talk to her. Do you know where she was going?”

“Relax, Zoë. Maybe it’s a family thing.”

I couldn’t relax.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked. He was suddenly at my side, appearing with that silence that still unnerved me. His eyes twinkled a little when I jumped. I was pretty sure he did it on purpose, just to show off.

Or maybe to remind me that he had special powers, too.

“I smell trouble,” he said when I didn’t immediately answer. “And you’re wearing the necklace I gave you.”

On instinct, I had put on the silver necklace with a sterling hand of Fatima he’d given me for my birthday, and I touched the charm now. “It seemed like a good idea. I had this dream.”

I told him in an undertone about my nightmare. His eyes became brighter than usual, a striking pale blue, and his gaze danced over my features as I spoke. I wondered how much else he sensed.

“Find Jessica,” he said to Meagan, an undercurrent of command in his tone. She nodded and loaded up her books with purpose. She gave me a smile, then headed off to class.

“She’ll find her,” I said, hoping it was true.

Derek watched her go; then he tugged a book out of his pocket. It was warm from being inside his coat. It was called
The Histories
by Herodotus. I read the title, then looked at Derek with surprise.

He had a secretive little smile. “As good a source as any.” He shrugged. “You asked.”

So this Herodotus guy had said something about the wolf shifters. Huh. I fanned through the book. It was pretty thick, but there was a bookmark in it.

“Any ideas where we can find Kohana?” Derek asked, glancing down the hall. His words recalled me to the moment, and I shoved the book into my pack. When I slung it back over my shoulder and closed my locker, he took my hand in his. I wasn’t expecting that, which maybe was why his touch made my heart skip. I liked the warmth of his grip.

Never mind the steadiness of his gaze. I stared at him, unable to look away.

His fingers entangled with mine, his thumb sliding across my palm very slowly, slowly enough to give me heart failure.

It certainly was slow enough to distract me.

“Because it would be good to confirm that he still has the NightBlade,” he added, as if I needed the strategy explained to me.

I wasn’t, actually, thinking about Kohana in that precise moment, or even the Wyvern’s supposed ability to see past, present, and future simultaneously. I was thinking about Derek, about how steadily he looks into my eyes and how slowly he moves. I was thinking about the warm caress of his thumb, and I was thinking about Friday night’s dance, and I was wondering just what he had planned.

A slow dance?

A slow kiss?

I am the worst dancer in the world, and I’m not sure I’m much of a kisser, either. I have been kissed and I have kissed back some, but that doesn’t exactly make me a pro.

Derek smiled and I wondered whether he could smell what I was thinking.

I blushed. You knew it had to happen.

“I’ve got my dad’s car for Friday,” he murmured, and that small piece of information seemed fraught with expectations.

I was well aware that Derek was watching me closely. It was becoming clear to me that this date wasn’t anything casual. I was, in fact, remembering his words from the fall, about his taking the task in his pack to ensure the alliance with the Wyvern was made. Wolves are not the most subtle intellectuals, in my limited experience. They put more value in action than in words.

What particular action would secure the alliance, as far as Derek was concerned? Going steady? Doing more than sharing a kiss? I stood and felt his thumb caress my hand and had a pretty good idea that he wanted a bigger commitment from me.

Which meant that my dad wasn’t going to like Derek any more than he liked Jared.

Before I could think of anything brilliant to say, the bell for class rang. Derek squeezed my fingers, bolder now, then, to my astonishment, leaned closer and kissed my temple. “Later,” he murmured in a low growl that made my stomach quiver. He gave me an intent look, then turned to lope down the hall.

Leaving me staring after him, my mouth dry.

“S
ORRY TO INTERRUPT A TENDER
moment,” Suzanne drawled from my other side, her tone snarky. “But Trevor wants to talk to you, freak.”

I spun to find her glaring at me. I was as shocked by her words as her presence. Suzanne had never initiated a conversation with me—and Trevor never wanted to talk to me unless he was making trouble.

I had wanted to talk to Trevor. Suddenly, he wanted to talk to me. This was far too easy. Careful what you wish for.

To say that I was suspicious would have been the understatement of the century.

“Me?”

“At least you’re as shocked as I am,” Suzanne said. She jabbed her finger at me. “Do
not
get any ideas.”

“Ideas?”

She leaned closer to whisper, “You’re not his type. Don’t imagine for one second that you are.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The idea of me and Trevor becoming a couple was just that funny. He belonged to a group bent on destroying my kind forever, after all. “Don’t worry. He’s not my type, either.”

She flicked a disparaging glance after Derek. “I guess not.”

My temper flared because she was putting Derek down. “If Trevor wants to talk to me, why doesn’t he?” I challenged. “Are you his minion now?”

Or was he afraid of me? Trevor did know what I was, after all, and we dragons had kicked major Mage butt in the fall.

Suzanne checked that there were other people at the end of the hall, then leaned closer, her eyes flashing. “Never call me that, freak.”

She was always brave when others were around; it was when she and I were alone that her bravado slipped. “Then don’t act like his minion.”

“I am so going to get you,” she muttered. “One of these days, I won’t be the only one to see, and I’ll make sure to take you down.”

I mocked a shudder. “Gosh, I’m afraid.”

She didn’t like that, not one bit. She opened her mouth to say something bitchy, but the hall was empty. I saw my chance and went with it, too mad to care about repercussions.

I let my eye change to a dragon eye just for a heartbeat.

Suzanne paled and retreated quickly.

“What’s the matter?” I asked sweetly, knowing my eye was back to normal.

She looked away, then back at me, then shook a finger. “One of these days, Sorensson.”

I pretended to tremble, then grinned at her. There must have been some dragon in that look, because she stepped back.

Suzanne jerked her thumb toward the parking lot. “Trevor’s in his car.” Then she arched a brow, more confident now that there was distance between us. “Unless you don’t have the nerve to cut class.”

If it had been art class, I might have hesitated. Science meant it was an easy choice. I pushed past Suzanne and headed out of the school, in search of Trevor.

I didn’t have to look far.

T
revor’s green MG was idling at the closest entry to the parking lot. It’s a convertible, but he had the black ragtop up. I was surprised he was even driving it in February. Snowflakes tumbled out of the pewter clouds that filled the sky, and it was more damp than cold.

I bent down, cautious now, and he unrolled the passenger’s-side window. “We need to talk,” he said grimly.

I have to say that Trevor was looking less than his best. His hair was disheveled and I would have bet that he hadn’t slept the night before. Maybe for a few nights. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale.

He looked a lot worse than he had in my dream. He is usually the squeaky-clean type, his jeans practically ironed and every hair in place. The contrast was startling.

Plus he couldn’t stop fidgeting. His fingers drummed on
the steering wheel, his agitation obvious. He kept looking around, scanning the parking lot, as if he expected boogeymen to jump him from every side.

Interesting. Was he really spooked or was it an act? I couldn’t tell.

I actually had a moment when I wished I knew him better, just so I could assess his honesty, then realized how nutty a thought that was.