Senshi (A Katana Novel) Page 15

  Carson looked confused and Q rolled his eyes.

  “Um, yeah,” Carson said.

  “Yeah, so … ” I shrugged. “I’m not grounded anymore.”

  He frowned. “I kinda gathered that.”

  I laughed, though it was a pitch too high to sound natural. “Right. I, uh, managed to ace a couple of tests and that got my mom off my back.”

  “Cool.” He grinned.

  I never noticed it before, but the cleft on his chin deepened when he smiled. It was kinda cute. If only my heart wasn’t ground into pulp, I could have seen myself going out with someone like him.

  He fidgeted with the leather cuff on his wrist. “So if you’re not grounded, maybe you’d want to … I don’t know … ”

  Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh. Crap. He was going to ask me out again. And my seatbelt wasn’t fastened and my tray was not in an upright position. I wasn’t ready! I looked to Q for help but he only winked. I was so going to kill him.

  Okay, think, Rileigh! You could come up with an excuse to let Carson down easy. Maybe I could tell him I had leprosy …

  “ … you and me could … but you don’t have to … ”

  Leprosy wouldn’t work; I couldn’t fake falling-off limbs. I could tell him my religion didn’t allow dating. That I’d volunteered for a NASA trip to the moon. Or, I could put on my big-girl panties and just tell him the truth—that I’d given my heart to someone who’d used it for a punching bag. That it hurt too much to open myself up. That I’d never be able to be with anyone ever again without comparing them to the love I’d lost—the samurai I’d loved from one lifetime into the next. The very guy that was heading this way with his arm around another girl.

  Son of hibachi.

  Carson continued to stutter through asking me out, oblivious to the couple approaching.

  But Q wasn’t. I glanced over my shoulder and he’d turned a ghostly shade of white. Awesome. I’d get no help from him.

  They stopped behind Carson. Sumi glared at me and tightened her hold on Kim’s waist.

  He didn’t seem to notice. His eyes stayed locked on mine. The look was unreadable. It killed me to have his eyes on me again. If I wasn’t so stubborn, I would have turned away.

  Kim opened his mouth, but I wasn’t about to listen to the bullcrap about to spill out.

  “You know what?” I interrupted both Carson’s rambling and whatever Kim was about to say. “That sounds really great, Carson. I’d love to go out with you.”

  Kim’s mouth snapped shut and his lips pressed into a frown.

  “Kim, I want to go,” Sumi whined at his side before shooting me a dirty look.

  Carson followed my line of sight and glanced over his shoulder. But he either didn’t understand the showdown going on behind him, or he didn’t care. Because when he looked back at me, he was all smiles. “Really?”

  Something inside of me hesitated, but I ignored it. Some part of me knew I was being the world’s biggest bitch by using Carson to get back at Kim. That part was overruled by the part of me that ached so badly I thought I might scream and pull my hair out in the crowded lobby. Instead, I held out my hand to Carson. “Give me your phone.”

  He fished it out of his pocket and put it in my hand.

  “Kim.” Sumi tugged on his arm.

  Kim hesitated before finally allowing himself to be pulled from the theater.

  I win, I thought as I punched my number into Carson’s phone. No sooner did I have the thought than I wanted to thwack my head against the nearest wall. I won? Really? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. I stared at the phone in my hand. What was I doing? What kind of girl was I? Before I could delete my number and tell Carson that I’d made a mistake, he snatched the phone from my hand.

  “I’ll call you.” Carson started walking backward toward the theater doors—almost as if he could sense I was seconds away from backing out, which was exactly what I wanted to do. Carson was too nice of a guy to be used.

  Heartbreak was making me a bitch.

  When he was gone, Quentin looped his arm through mine and ushered me to the door. “That was crazy! Did you see the way Kim looked at you? He looked devastated that you were going to go out with Carson.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  He stopped walking. “What? Of course you can.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s wrong. If I go out with Carson, I’d only be using him to make Kim jealous.”

  Q frowned at me. “I know you’re not ready for anything serious. There’s no law that says if you go out on one date with a boy you have to get married. Go out with Carson. Have a good time. And if you don’t want to go out with him again, don’t. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

  Well, when he put it like that, it didn’t sound so bad. “You really think so?”

  He ruffled my hair. “Of course.” He started to say something else, but his words turned into a hiss and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  My hand hovered over his shoulder. He looked to be in so much pain I wasn’t sure if I should touch him. “Your migraine?”

  He nodded but said nothing.

  I hated to see him suffer so much—especially when I could do nothing to alleviate his pain. “Should I take you to the hospital? This can’t be normal.”

  He dropped his hand and glared at me. “I’m fine, okay? I don’t need you making a big deal about his.”

  Whoa. So the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act continued. I held my hands up in surrender and took a step back. “Sorry. I’m just worried. You don’t need to bite my head off.”

  He blinked several times before his angry expression melted into one of surprise. “I’m sorry. I-I have no idea why I snapped at you. The migraines feel like a knife stabbing into my brain … but it’s more than that. I can’t think clearly. I’m not myself.”

  Understatement of the year, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud. Instead, I nodded sympathetically. “Pain can do that.” I held my hand with the palm down, like he was a dog who might bite. “Let’s get you home, okay? I bet sleep will help.”

  He sucked in a breath. “That’s probably a good idea.” He took my hand and together we walked into the dark parking lot. When we arrived at his Mini, I rubbed my hands over my arms to ward off a chill from the crisp fall night. Or so I thought until I opened the car door and spotted a folded piece of paper on the passenger seat.

  Q opened the driver’s door but hesitated when I hadn’t made a move to get in the car. “What’s up?”

  I stared at the piece of paper, positive it hadn’t been there when I’d gotten out of the car. It was from a yellow legal pad—the same kind of paper left on the door of my old house with a threat. I glanced around the parking lot for anything out of place. “Q, did you lock your car doors before we went in the theater?”

  He held up the remote on his keychain. “Always.”

  A locked door is a small obstacle for a ninja. I closed my eyes and allowed a small amount of my ki to slip through my skin and search the lot for anyone who meant me harm. After a few moments of detecting no negative energy, I pulled my ki inside of me and opened my eyes. “Someone left us a note.” I grabbed the piece of paper and climbed into the car.

  Q climbed in after me and eyed the note I held on my lap with wide eyes. “Who do you think left it?”

  “Whitley.” I knew without opening it. Legal pads weren’t the obvious choice when it came to threatening notes and casual letters. Using the same type of paper he’d used at my old house let me know he wanted his identity known.

  “But-but,” Q stammered, “I thought he was dead.”

  I looked at him. “I don’t have that kind of luck.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, me staring at the paper, not wanting to deal with the words written inside of it, and Q drumming his fingertips against the steering w
heel.

  “So … ” he began.

  “Yeah, I’m going to do it.” I opened the paper and read.

  Meet me at the Grand Basin tomorrow at midnight.

  Don’t be seen and DON’T be followed.

  So, yeah. Just an anonymous cryptic note leading me into a trap. Pretty much what I expected. I crumpled the note and leaned back against the seat. “Where the hell is the Grand Basin? What the hell is the Grand Basin?”

  “I think it’s the lake in front of the Art Museum in Forest Park.” Q reached for the note in my lap and smoothed it out. After he read it, he looked at me. “Do you really think this is from Whitley?”

  I nodded. “Yup. Now I just have to figure out why he wants to meet in Forest Park. There are a lot more convenient places to murder someone.”

  His eyes widened. “So you think it’s a trap?”

  “I don’t know. Did you receive an invitation from Whitley for an early surprise birthday party for me?”

  “Uh, no.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a trap.”

  Q glanced at the paper. “Well, then I guess it’s easy enough to avoid. Don’t go.”

  “Yeaaaaaah.” I stared out the window so I wouldn’t have to look at his “stern” face. “You see, that sounds all well and good. But the problem is, the ninja attacks have been escalating. And if I don’t show up, Whitley knows where I live. He could attack me there. My mom would totally ground me if I had a ninja fight in the condo while she was out of town.” I looked over my shoulder and gave him my most dazzling smile.

  He scowled.

  I stopped smiling. I really needed to work on my dazzle.

  “My mom is having a Scentsy party tomorrow,” he said.

  “The scented-wax thingies? Random. But go on.”

  He laced his fingers together on his lap. “I was thinking … I know how much you love to smell things.”

  I nodded. I could spend hours in a candle store sticking my nose inside every jar. “True. I do love to smell.”

  “Well, instead of going on your suicide mission, you could just come to the party. We could go smell crazy and even sneak a few of my mom’s JELL-O shots. Eh?” He poked a finger in my ribs. “Epic, right?”

  I laughed at his sorry attempt to convince me not to go. “Yes, but as much as I love smelling things and hangovers—and just so you know, I really don’t like the last one—the party wouldn’t be that epic if a bunch of ninja showed up and stabbed everyone to death. That’s kind of a buzzkill.”

  He made a face. “Like that would happen.”

  “Right. Because it wasn’t like they bombed an entire dojo or anything in broad daylight.”

  Q opened his mouth only to snap it shut again.

  I patted his leg. “They’re not going to stop until I’m dead, Q. And I promise you, I’m going to try really hard not to be dead.”

  He crooked a smile. “It’s not like my mom doesn’t throw a dozen of these parties a year. We can always go to another one if we survive tomorrow night.”

  I blinked at him, hoping I had heard wrong. “We?”

  “Well, duh. It’s not like I can let you go gallivanting off to your death alone. What kind of friend would that make me?”

  “A smart one.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t give me any crap about you not wanting me to go because you’re worried I’ll get hurt and blah, blah, blah. Because I’m coming with you. Who knows?” He shrugged. “Maybe I can even help.”

  As if I was going to let him risk his life. I folded my arms. “And if I say no?”

  He smiled. “Then I’ll tell Dr. Wendell what you’re up to and I’m sure he’ll insist on going. The way I see it, someone is going with you. It comes down to whether it’s me or Dr. Wendell.”

  I glared at the conniving evil genius that was my best friend. I didn’t doubt for a minute he’d tell Dr. Wendell if I didn’t let him come. And, while Dr. Wendell had some martial arts experience, he was still … Dr. Wendell. I was sure he would insist on running the show. Not going to happen. This was my death trap, and if I was going to die, I was going to die on my terms. If worse came to worse, I’d figure a way to get Q out of there.

  “You win,” I said. “Be at my house by eight.”

  33

  I don’t think he’s coming.” Q picked a blade of grass and proceeded to shred it into ribbons.

  “Why send someone an invitation for a fight to the death and then stand them up? Talk about rude.” I fidgeted on the stone bench we sat on. It stood at the top of a hill that overlooked the man-made lake known as the Grand Basin. I’d chosen the spot because it was shielded from behind by a hedge, and a large oak tree several feet down the hill hid us behind a canopy of orange and brown leaves. As far as cover, it was as good a spot as any. But we’d sat here for nearly an hour and, aside from the shushing sound of the fountains in the lake, the night was quiet.

  Q shrugged. “We don’t know for sure that the note was inviting you to a death match.”

  I made a face.

  “Okay, you’re right.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Maybe Whitley got cold feet considering how things went the last time you fought?”

  “Maybe … ” But then I saw the black outline of figure rounding the side of the lake and begin to climb the hill leading up to the Art Museum. I stood. “Or maybe he was just running late. Look!”

  Quentin followed my finger and jumped to his feet. “What do we do? Charge?”

  I held my hand out to block his chest in case he decided to do something rash. “Easy there, tough guy. The first thing we need to do is assess the situation.”

  “Okay.” I felt the muscles of his chest slowly unwind. “So what does that mean?”

  I crept forward, keeping my back to the hedge despite the branches that pulled at my shirt. I motioned for Q to do the same. “Stick to the shadows. We’re going to follow him and make sure he’s alone. If the other ninja are here, I don’t care what happens, you run.” I stopped and looked at him. “Promise me?”

  He frowned. “But—”

  “No matter what,” I insisted. “Promise me.”

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  “Good.” We continued down the line of bushes until it ended at the street in front of the museum. The shadowy figure continued to climb the hill.

  Q hovered above my shoulder. “Do you really think it’s Whitley?”

  I shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

  At the top of the hill, he stopped in front of the giant statue of St. Louis atop his horse that overlooked the lake, and glanced in our direction. It was hard to make out who it was from our hiding spot. Despite having long blond hair that hung in such a way it covered half of his face, I knew it was Whitley. The chills that pulled at the hairs along my neck were all the proof I needed.

  “Is he looking at us?” Q hissed in my ear.

  I raised a hand and motioned for him to be quiet.

  The guy smiled and jogged across the street. But instead of running up the main entrance stairs to the museum, he veered right and disappeared around the corner.

  “That was … strange,” Q said.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I agreed. I motioned for Q to follow me and we sprinted to the St. Louis statue and peered around the corner. I stood there for several moments and watched the corner of the museum until I saw the guy appear, look in our direction, wave us over, and disappear again.

  Uh-huh. I could take a hint. “He wants us to follow him.”

  “Why?”

  I peeled myself off the base of the statue. “Apparently the trap is that way.” I pointed to the side of the museum. A funny pressure pushed against my insides, different from the telltale buzzing that indicated I was about to lose control of my ki. The feeling inside of me was warm … and sticky. Like my blood had been r
eplaced with honey. Not exactly unpleasant, but not that fun, either.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

  Ready to put a stop to the ninja attacks? Totally. Ready to engage the most powerful adversary I’d ever had in a battle? Not so much. “As ready as I can be, I guess.”

  Q nodded and pulled a black ski mask over his face. “Let’s do this.”

  I blinked. “Where the heck did you get that?”

  His voice came out muffled. “Last year’s Aspen trip. Don’t worry, I got you one too.” He handed me a hot pink ski mask. “This was Carly’s.”

  I tossed it into the nearest bush. “That’s gross. There’s no way I’m going to breathe in her nasty, dried-up snot.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  I held up my hand, motioning for Quentin to remain still as a car drove by the road. When I was sure the coast was clear and no one else was around, I motioned Q forward. We darted across the road, veering to the right of the building and tucking ourselves into the shadows of the neighboring trees. We wound ourselves around the perimeter and arrived several feet away from a side entrance that closed with a soft click as we approached.

  I leaned against the wall next to the door and braced my hands on my thighs as I tried to regain some control of my galloping heart.

  Quentin rubbed his hands together next to me. “Okay. Now what?”

  “Whitley went inside and he obviously wants us to follow him, but … ” I pointed to a blinking security camera trained on the door. “Before we do, I have to take care of that. The last thing I need right now is to go to jail for breaking and entering.”

  “That does look bad on a college application,” Q said. “But how are you going to deal with the cameras?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. But I’m going to try something.” I kept my eyes trained on the security camera as I fell inside of myself. I followed the energy that pushed against my body until I found the source—my spirit. It pulsed in greeting, the prickly feeling spreading throughout my body immediately. I stumbled forward and placed a hand against the wall to steady myself.