Breaking angelina (Paranormal investigations # 1.5) Page 4

  hair, and a smattering of freckles are scattered over

  her nose.

  I paint a smile on my face. “Oh, lovely.”

  Unzipping my folder, I flip to the section marked

  Introduction to Organic Chemistry and Biochemistry

  and tuck the paper inside the pocket. Everything

  has its own neat place, carefully marked and

  highlighted and tabbed. My pens and markers sit in

  the pouch in the front. My calendar, with its nice,

  neat handwriting and detailed notes, lies right

  behind the pouch.

  Everything is perfect.

  Perfection keeps my world under control.

  It quiets the voices, and I can think.

  “So what did you get on the quiz?” Katie holds

  up her B paper.

  Snapping my folder shut before she can see, I

  zip it closed. “An A,” I lie.

  I should have had an A. I studied and knew all

  the answers, but during the quiz, this strange

  humming noise buzzed in my ear, distracting me.

  The voices whispered underneath the humming,

  and I knew they were talking about me. But the

  more I strained to listen, the less I could make out

  what they said. I almost yelled how rude they were,

  but that would have interrupted everyone else

  taking the test.

  I’m pretty sure the voices did it on purpose.

  They wanted me to fail. Thankfully, it was just a

  quiz. I’ll work extra hard to make up for this.

  Tucking the notebook into my backpack and

  bundling up in my coat and gloves, I follow Katie

  out to where a group of girls—Sarah, Cyndi,

  Brianna, and a few others—huddle by the doors.

  “Are we ready?” Sarah asks, and the group of

  girls breaks into laughter.

  I giggle too, even though I don’t know what is so

  funny. Making sure I don’t have toilet paper stuck

  to my shoe or ink spots on my clothes, I look down

  at my outfit. I’m wearing a pink sweater overtop of

  red leggings with white, fur-lined snow boots.

  Fingernails painted to match my sweater. My high

  pony tail swings with a perfect little bounce, and

  my silver-heart earrings jangle and shimmer.

  I dress to fit in. As long as I look nice on the

  outside, no one will know I’m falling apart.

  “Are you going to drive or ride with one of us?”

  Katie frowns as if she’s been asking me this for a

  while.

  They don’t like you.

  I ignore the voices and hide my trembling hands

  behind my back.

  Look at Cyndi. See the smirk on her face? She’s

  laughing at you.

  The girls stare at me like I’m an alien. If I wasn’t

  on the cheerleading squad, I wouldn’t be accepted

  in this group. Even then, I have to work hard to

  keep my spot in the pecking order.

  “I’ll ride.” I plaster a fake smile across my pink-

  frosted lips. I hate driving downtown where I have

  no control of the traffic. Lack of control scares me.

  We park in an underground garage, and I shiver,

  thinking of the tons of cement over my head. It

  could come crashing down around me, and I would

  be trapped.

  Jogging, I rush toward the stairs and the exit, to

  the fresh, open sky. Shoving the door open, I

  stumble out and gulp down the clean air. Bitter

  wind whips around me, teasing my pony tail and

  chilling my exposed skin. In my hurry to get out, I

  forgot to bundle up.

  Someday, I’m going to live somewhere warm,

  where the wind and static electricity can’t ruin my

  appearance in the winter, where I won’t have to

  wear a hat when I go out and risk having hat head

  the rest of the day.

  “What got into you?” Sarah says behind me.

  Cyndi sneers at me. “Little miss perfect got a

  bug up her ass?”

  The other girls giggle.

  My fake smile feels brittle as I tuck my shaking

  hands into my pockets. “I’m just a little hungry.”

  Ten o’clock, and the sun is just peeking up over

  the eastern horizon, painting the sky golden, a

  delicious treat for my sun-deprived skin. Turning

  my face into it, I soak up every ray.

  Out here, the voices are quieter, muffled. They

  hide from the brightness. If I could live somewhere

  tropical, where I could spend every day in the

  sunlight, maybe they would finally go away.

  Laughing and gossiping, I follow the girls. I am

  one of them. I’m normal.

  “So Angelina—” Cyndi sidles up to me. “I heard

  Tyler asked Brianna to the Valentine’s Ball this year.

  I guess he finally gave up on the Ice Queen.” She

  says the last two words in a sing-song voice.

  The voices snicker, and I shudder at the sound

  of their raspy cackles.

  I shrug. They’ve been calling me Ice Queen all

  year because I refuse to sleep with the basketball

  team. Girls like Cyndi and Tonya say it’s our duty to

  give our team inspiration. I say what happened to

  women’s lib? Or self-respect?

  I can’t tell them I’m saving myself for someone

  special. He’s got dark hair and hazel green eyes

  flecked with gold, and he’s been my prince

  charming since I was in third grade. He bandaged

  my skinned knee and gave me a piece of chocolate.

  They don’t believe in true romance, just one night

  stands with guys with perfect bodies.

  Tyler is the entire cheerleading squad’s dream

  guy, and more than half of the girls have already

  been in his bed, willingly or not.

  But I want someone with personality. Character.

  Someone who wants a relationship, not just a

  player looking for a quick screw before moving

  onto his next score.

  I scowl at her. “Shut up, Cyndi. Quit being such a

  bitch.”

  She puts a hand on her hip. “Oh, where did you

  get a backbone?”

  What would my sister Emma do? Unlike me,

  she’s the kind of girl who wouldn’t back down from

  a fight. Pretending for just a moment I’m that kind

  of girl, I channel her spirit and lift my chin and glare

  at Cyndi until she looks away.

  “You’re such a joke, Angelina,” Cyndi says.

  Sarah sighs. “Shut up, Cyndi. You’re just jealous

  because Steve said she could really shake her

  booty. Get over it all ready.”

  “All I’m saying is that I know how to keep a

  man’s interest. I wouldn’t keep a man waiting so

  long he’d go hunting elsewhere. Her loss, huh. Isn’t

  that right, Brianna? I’ve seen how late your tutoring

  sessions last.”

  Bent shoulders, Brianna pales and walks faster.

  No one else seems to notice. The dark cloud that

  had enveloped her weeks ago in the hotel room

  wraps itself around her again.

  Turning on Cyndi, Sarah snorts. “Oh wait, you

  already had him. I believe he called you ‘clingy,

  lazy, and a lush,’ and didn’t he kick you to the curb

  after just one
little month?”

  “You did not just say that, girlfriend. Steve told

  me all about what a frigid little bitch you were.”

  “You’re welcome to him, girl. If he’s willing to

  cheat on me with the first slut spreading for him,

  I’m better off with out him.”

  “What did you call me?”

  The anger bites at my skin like an icy wind.

  Shuddering, I walk faster, catching up with Brianna.

  “Are you all right?” I whisper and put a hand on her

  shoulder.

  Brianna cries out and cowers away, cradling her

  arm against her body. A sick feeling squirms in my

  stomach as she rubs her arm and hangs her head

  submissively.

  What did that bastard do to her?

  Last September, she was feisty, the life of the

  party. She would throw her head back and laugh

  like her heart was brimming with joy. Now she

  can’t even smile.

  Leave it alone. It’s not your business. You should

  hear the things she says about you.

  I don’t care what she said.

  Nobody deserves to be hurt.

  “Hey, we’ll talk later,” I say. “When we’re alone.

  Okay?”

  She nods.

  “Promise?”

  She nods again but still doesn’t look me in the

  eye.

  My phone rings, and I pull it from my pocket, as

  I peer at the image of the caller while gripping

  tightly against the vibration so it doesn’t slip out of

  my gloved hands.

  Jason.

  Jason calling me.

  My heart stops.

  “Hello, Jason.” My voice sultry and soft.

  Tonya elbows Cyndi in the side. “Angelina has a

  boyfriend.”

  “What would the team say? Their favorite girlie

  talking to another man.” Cyndi gives me a vicious

  grin.

  The girls continue traipsing down the sidewalk,

  but I stop to stare in the window of a shop and

  watch two people in their mid-twenties, holding

  hands and oohing and aahing over a rocking chair.

  She tucks her hand under her swollen belly.

  And I wish, wish, wish, that were me and Jason. I

  would be so good to him.

  “Hey, Angelina.” He clears his throat, and a thrill

  runs through me at the sound of his voice. Calling

  me. “I’m driving up in a couple weeks for Emma’s

  birthday. Hoping you’d coordinate with me so I can

  get there at the right time to catch her before her

  classes start.”

  My heart freezes in the Alaskan wind and

  shatters into a thousand pieces. Emma. My sister.

  Imperfect. Messy. Disorganized.

  She doesn’t even brush her hair or wear

  matching clothes.

  What Jason sees in her, I don’t understand.

  “You’re so sweet, a great best friend to my

  sister. Of course, I’ll help you.” I smile through

  clenched teeth.

  “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

  “I’m out for lunch with friends. I’ll call you

  tonight, all right?” I say sweetly.

  “Sure. Later then.” He hangs up.

  I don’t hang up, but slowly drop my arm to my

  side. Inside the store, the man leans down and

  kisses the woman. She smiles up at him.

  I would make Jason so happy. He only needs a

  chance to see me, to know I’m what he really

  wants.

  Tears blur my vision, and I dash them away with

  the back of my hand. How come I can be strong for

  Brianna and stand up to the likes of Cyndi, but I

  can’t be strong for myself?

  You’re a doormat. People use you and wipe their

  feet on you. But they don’t care about you.

  In a way, that’s always been true. Dad always

  admired Emma’s spunk and courage, and I was

  always his disappointment.

  All your life, you stood in Emma’s shadow. Jason

  will never see you as the woman you are.

  It’s true. I wipe a tear from my eye before it

  freezes on my cheek.

  “Aaw, what’s the matter, princess? Trouble in

  paradise?”

  Laughter follows Cyndi’s words.

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” I turn and run blindly,

  deeper into the city. Jogging around corners,

  passing shops, racing to get away from the hollow

  laughter …

  I dart across the road. A car honks and breaks

  squeal. But I don’t look around; I just keep running.

  Turn here. The voices hiss, the words slipping

  inside my ear. I can feel the words burning their

  way into my head, sliding around my skull, sliming

  everything they touch.

  I mindlessly obey, turning down the narrow

  alley. The dumpster reeks and a black alley cat

  skitters across my path. But the voices are behind

  me; their foul breath brushes against my neck,

  smelling of brimstone and death. Claws scrape

  against my shoulders, and I hurry to get away from

  them.

  At the end of the alley, a set of stairs lead down

  to a basement door. Above the door, the sign

  reads, “Mama Maria’s Bookstore.”

  Fear nipping at my heels, I rush down the stairs,

  fling open the door, and, slamming it behind me,

  sink to the floor.

  A sob wells up and escapes my lips.

  “With tears like those, I suppose you are here to

  buy a curse,” a black cat says to me.

  Closing my eyes, I will the illusion to go away,

  but when I open them again, she’s still there,

  licking her paws, wiping her whiskers.

  So the cat may be real, but maybe I imagined

  her speaking.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Curses

  are my specialty.” She peers down at me with the

  typical cat disdain.

  Chapter 6

  ~ HUNTER ~

  The limo winds through the narrow streets.

  Pedestrians mill through the market, barely moving

  out of the way as we pass. Darting in and out of the

  crowd, bicycles zip past us as we creep forward.

  I hate this waiting.

  A low rumbling growl fills the space around me,

  and I realize that the sound is coming from me. The

  orc chuckles.

  I force myself to stop and unclench my fists.

  As we approach the location, I can feel a

  glamour settling over the vehicle. Minutes later, we

  arrive at the theater. The orc pulls up to a gate and

  hands the attendant a paper, and then he drives

  into a courtyard and around a fountain, glittering in

  the golden sunlight, and stops at the front door.

  A porter opens my door and I climb out. I watch

  the small man as he studies my ticket. Human.

  Mundane. How does a human without any magic

  get himself caught up in this … mess?

  I scan the courtyard. All around me, excited

  people practically bounce out of their limos—a man

  in a cape smelling of blood and magic with a half-

  naked, human woman on his arm, her excitement

  causing her to jiggle in all the right places. An elven

  lady with silver hair sparkling
like starlight and her

  entourage. A short, pudgy hedge witch carrying a

  poodle under one arm and one of those stupid

  cigarettes on a stick, like Cruella Deville.

  Everyone talks at once, a cacophony of buzzing,

  and even with my heightened sense of hearing, I

  can’t pick out a single conversation in the crowd.

  Free fae, wizards, dwarves, a few gnomes, and

  even rich humans who shouldn’t know anything

  about our world. The smells of all these races mix in

  the sweltering heat, and magic reeks through all of

  it.

  Oddly, there aren’t any children here. Isn’t a

  circus designed to entertain children?

  Then again, I never would have brought my

  children here. Sammi would’ve murdered me. The

  thought makes me smile. She was so feisty when

  she got angry.

  “All is in order. No glamour beyond the front

  door,” he reminds me, handing me back my ticket.

  His pale eyes look into mine and through me as if

  I’m not really here.

  “Thank you,” I say, but he doesn’t respond,

  already turning to the next limo pulling up.

  What does this sorcerer do to his minions to

  bleed their souls dry? I shudder, remembering my

  employer Jezebarra. Meet one sorcerer, you’ve met

  them all.

  According to Spyder, he is a very powerful

  sorcerer; if I leave my glamour up, he will notice.

  Removing the Stetson, I follow the crowd into

  the old theater. Nobody pays attention to one

  more non-human in the crowd.

  The interior of the theater is replaced by tents.

  The stench of animal feces and hay hits my nostrils,

  and I reel back, covering my nose. Under the odor, I

  can pick out the smell of fear and despair. Although

  I won’t like giving this bracelet back to Jezebarra,

  I’ll enjoy stealing it from Alistrad.

  A large sign dominates the front of the largest

  tent:

  Michael

  Magnificent

  and

  the

  Magician

  Magellan’s Magical Menagerie of Malicious and

  Monstrous Misfits.

  What a ridiculous name for a circus.

  Spyder’s information indicates Michael is simply

  a face man. Alistrad—calling himself Magellan—

  runs the show. He’s the one who holds the collars. I

  don’t like the implications of the ‘monstrous

  misfits’ part either. Just how many chimera does he

  have in here? Worse, what he does do with them?