Slayers: Friends and Traitors (20 page)

A moment later her cell phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket and saw a text from Dirk. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she texted back. “Do you know what happened?”

Since Dirk was a captain, Dr. B gave him more information than he gave the rest of the Slayers. After a moment, he wrote her back. “Some guys came after Jaybird with a dart gun. Be extra careful today. Stay home.”

Too late for that. She had to attach toys to fishing lines. “Don’t worry about me,” she texted back. “I can take care of myself.”

His next text contained only a number: 12.

“12?” she wrote. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s the number of times you were killed during surprise attacks at camp. Trust me on this one. Stay home and lock your doors.”

He had counted the number of times she’d died? She hadn’t even counted the number of times she’d died.

She would have liked to retort with the number of times she had survived camp’s surprise attacks, but she hadn’t kept track of that number, either. “I’ll be fine,” she wrote. When it counted, she knew how to be careful. Really, he worried about her too much.

CHAPTER 16

Dirk tugged his shoes on with more force than the task required. “It’s Halloween,” he told Cassie. “Couldn’t Dad do this a different night?”

Bridget sat at the kitchen table next to him, arms folded, a frown on her face. Dirk gestured to his sister. “Halloween only comes once a year.”

Cassie stirred the vegetables, unconcerned. Spurts of steam hissed in the wok. “So which do you think is more important than the country’s future—your party or your sister’s trick-or-treating?”

Dirk tied his first shoe. “Bridget has looked forward to this for months.” He could complain about his dad disappointing Bridget without getting in trouble. Dirk couldn’t say what he really thought—which was that the whole thing was awful. At moments like this he didn’t care about the country’s future. He only cared about his friends’ futures. It was selfish and shortsighted, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that way.

Cassie poured more sauce onto the vegetables. “We’ll make it up to Bridget.”

Typical. They’d probably buy her a new pony and think everything was good.

“Your father will call soon,” Cassie went on, “and tell you what you need to do.” She turned to look him in the eyes. “You’ll follow through this time, won’t you?”

“Yes,” he said stiffly. He yanked his last shoelace so hard the end snapped off. He swore, kicked off the shoe, and then undid the other. He’d have to wear a different pair. “So what exactly is the plan?”

Strips of meat were in a frying pan beside the wok. Cassie dumped them into the vegetables and stirred them around. While she spoke, she cast a glance at Bridget, measuring her words so as not to say too much. “Your father’s men are picking up one of the Slayers. They’ll hold her until the other Slayers come for her.”

“Who?” Dirk asked. “Which Slayer are they going after?”

Cassie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure your father will tell you when he calls.”

Tori. It was going to be Tori. His father would take her to ensure Dirk did exactly what he was supposed to.

Dirk swore again and stalked out of the kitchen.

“Dinner is ready!” Cassie called after him. “You need to eat something before you leave!”

How could she do that—talk about kidnapping his friends in one breath and act all motherly and concerned in the next?

Dirk went to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of shoes from his closet. While he was putting them on, Dr. B called his watch-phone. Dirk stared at it in dread. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want any of this to happen.

Seconds went by. Dr. B wouldn’t think it was odd that he hadn’t answered. The Slayers were supposed to go to private locations before they answered their phones.

He shut his eyes and repeated the mantra he had been saying since he got home from camp: It’s better for my friends to lose their memories now than their lives later. I’m helping them, not hurting them.

Dirk hit the receiver button. “Hello?”

“I have bad news,” Dr. B said. His normally calm voice had an edge to it, a fear that seeped through despite his best efforts. “Overdrake’s men captured Alyssa.”

Alyssa. His father had taken Alyssa, not Tori. Dirk shouldn’t have felt relieved at the news, but did anyway. He needed to respond—a Slayer response. Surprised. Upset. “How do you know they have her?”

“She turned on her watch-phone while it was happening. I heard it.”

“Why didn’t you call the rest of us for backup?” It was a real question, one sprinkled with agony. If Dirk had left home before his father called him, Dirk might have been able to avoid his father’s instructions. It was a small thing, and probably pointless, but he would have felt better not being a part of the trap.

“Alyssa was too far away and it happened too fast. I’m putting out a call for everyone to assemble.” Dr. B paused. “Overdrake hasn’t drugged Alyssa yet because he wants her to give him information about the rest of the Slayers. We can attempt a rescue, but…” His voice faltered as though he couldn’t say more.

“But what?” Dirk asked.

Even over the receiver Dirk heard the low breath Dr. B let out, a breath punctured with worry. “How can I send the rest of you into danger?”

“Uh, isn’t that pretty much the point of being a Slayer? We go into danger.”

“I’ve told you all along that you need to know when to cut your losses. You need to think about things logically—and yet I can’t. Alyssa is alone, afraid, and Overdrake will hurt her if she doesn’t cooperate. How can we stand by and do nothing?”

Dirk slipped his shoes on. “We’ll think of a way to help her.”

Dr. B didn’t seem to hear him. “If anything happens to the rest of you, though—you could be killed. What would I tell your parents—that I trained you to do these sorts of things, that I purposely put you in harm’s way?”

Dirk tied one set of laces, careful not to break them this time. “None of us will be killed.” His father had promised that. “And you’re not putting us in harm’s way. We vote on these things. It’s always our choice. You’ve just trained us so we know how to use our powers.”

A pause, and then Dr. B let out a resigned sigh. “I’d better put out the call to the other Slayers.”

In another moment the call would end. Dirk suddenly realized this might be his last chance to talk to Dr. B privately before everything changed. “Dr. B…,” Dirk said, and then couldn’t think of what to say next—how to put it best. “Anything that happens later on—none of it is your fault. You’re a great leader. You’ve always been my role model. I just wanted you to know that.”

It was probably a suspicious thing to blurt out. Dirk never got sentimental. Dr. B didn’t question it, though. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re a good captain. You’ve always been like a son to me. You should know that, too.”

Dirk did. That’s what made this so hard.

CHAPTER 17

While Tori’s mom assembled the kids in the front of the room for story time, Tori and Aprilynne set things on the tables. When the kids were done listening to stories, they would come back here and paint pumpkins to look like jack-o’-lanterns.

Aprilynne placed paintbrushes on a table. “So what time is your party?”

“What party?” Tori asked.

“You must be planning on going somewhere or you wouldn’t keep checking your watch.”

Tori set out bottles of glow-in-the-dark paint on the center of a table. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just … I think my watch might be breaking. It’s making odd noises.” She added the last part in case any more alarms went off.

“Well, what did you expect?” Aprilynne asked. “It’s a piece of junk.” As she put a water cup by a seat, she sent Tori a sly smile. “I bet if you asked Roland, he would get you a nice watch for your birthday.”

Tori kept her voice low. “Roland and I are just friends.” Tori didn’t add that Roland wasn’t happy about that fact and kept trying to change their status.

“Hmm,” Aprilynne said, moving around the table with the cups. “Does the fact that you’re just friends have something to do with the hot blond guy who appeared on your phone?”

Tori sent Aprilynne a sharp look. “You shouldn’t snoop around on my phone.”

“It’s not snooping. It’s sisterly love. So, are the two of you some sort of item?”

Tori picked up the water pitcher and poured a small amount into one of the cups. “I’m not sure. Things are complicated between us.”

“Oh,” Aprilynne said, her interest peaked. She loved drama and didn’t understand why Tori didn’t date with the same gusto for the sport that she had.

“It’s never as complicated as you think,” Aprilynne said. “What sort of car does he drive?”

“A Porsche.”

“Go for him.”

Tori laughed. Aprilynne had a completely different standard for judging guys than she did. A low, insistent beep from Tori’s watch cut her laughter short. She felt frozen for a moment, standing there with the water pitcher in her hand. That alarm meant there was an emergency situation. The number one showed up on her watch face. The code to go to the exhibit room at the Jefferson Memorial.

Had Jesse been attacked again? Was it something worse?

At the thought of danger, Tori’s senses grew even sharper. The smell of paint punched through the air; her mother’s voice intensified. Tori noticed the fan vents pushing warm air into the room and heard the rustle of Aprilynne’s costume as she moved around the table.

Tori had to answer Dr. B’s call with a code of her own, telling him that she could come now, come later and meet up with the Slayers wherever they were at the time, or not come at all. Her gaze swept over the crowd of kids. Her parents were both busy right now. She couldn’t ask them if she could leave. What excuse could she come up with anyway? Her parents wanted her help with the party and it would go on for another hour or two.

Then again, if Dr. B needed to gather the Slayers together, something was wrong. Something important. Tori couldn’t wait out the party, go home with her parents, and then turn around and drive back to downtown D.C. The George Washington University Hospital was within walking distance from the Jefferson Memorial.

Tori pushed in her reply. “I’ve got to go,” she told Aprilynne. “Cover for me with Mom and Dad until I get back.”

Aprilynne sent her a humorless glare and kept putting cups on the table. “You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s an emergency.” Tori looked down at her costume. Was there a way to look less conspicuous? Her jacket was locked in the hospital director’s office. She wouldn’t be able to get it.

“An emergency?” Aprilynne put one hand on her hip. “Tori, I heard your watch alarm go off. You must have set it to let you know when you needed to leave. That’s not an emergency, that’s called ditching. Where are you going?”

Tori checked to make sure her cell phone was still tucked inside her pocket. “Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be back in a little while. If I don’t get back before the party ends, tell them I’ll take a cab to the house. They don’t need to worry about me.”

Aprilynne continued to glare at her. “Oh, I don’t think worry is the emotion they’ll be feeling.”

Tori took a step away, and then turned back to her sister. She was so on edge she wasn’t thinking straight. “Can I borrow some money for cab fare home?”

Aprilynne rolled her eyes, then reached for the purse that was slung around her Snow White costume—a small bag shaped like an apple. “You’re lucky this went so well with my outfit that I wore it.” She pulled out three twenties and handed them to Tori. “Is the hot guy going to be at your emergency?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Well, at least it’s for a good cause then.”

Tori didn’t say more. She walked out of the room, past the security detail, and into the hallway. She didn’t look back until she was outside.

*   *   *

It was quarter to four when Tori walked around the tidal basin to the Jefferson Memorial. The trees lining the walkway were beginning to lose their leaves. Small puddles of them were gathered under their shade, a reminder that autumn was here. Cold air pushed against her legs and exposed midriff. She wished she’d chosen a warmer costume. Something that covered all of her thighs. This was why girls should want to become astronauts, doctors, and scientists. None of them had to wear miniskirts.

Tori’s cell phone rang. It was her parents’ ring tone. She didn’t answer. They would only chew her out for leaving and tell her to come back.

Not many people were milling around the monument. The ones that were, all stared at her as she went by.
Yes,
she wanted to say,
I’m here on superhero matters
.
Go about your business, citizens.

This was one more thing to thank Overdrake for.

Tori made her way to the underground exhibit beneath the rotunda. A few people browsed through the bookstore at the other end. A couple people sat in the room where the Thomas Jefferson videos played. A few more stood in the hallway outside these two places reading the timeline of Jefferson’s life displayed on the wall.

None of the other Slayers had arrived yet. Procedure dictated that Tori keep a low profile until Dr. B and the others assembled. Hard to do in a Supergirl outfit. She glanced at the doors that led outside, one on each end of the hallway, then turned and read the plaques that hung high on the walls.

The last hope of human liberty in this world rests on us
—Thomas Jefferson, 1811.

She smiled. That quote, she supposed, was the reason Dr. B had chosen the monument as the Slayers’ first meeting place. He wanted them to read that phrase while they waited. She walked down the hallway a bit. Another plaque read:
Knowledge is power … knowledge is happiness.

That quote didn’t engender the same response. It reminded Tori of a conversation she’d had with Overdrake during their confrontation.

They had been in the forest, both high in tree branches. She had a rifle trained on him—which wasn’t much of a threat since he was dressed completely in bulletproof clothing. He talked to her, not because he was afraid of her, but because he wanted to taunt her.