Полная версия
The Iron King
As a silvery curtain of rain crept over the parking lot, I felt eyes on me. Turning, I saw Robbie a few paces away, watching me through the crowd.
Through the rain, his eyes glittered, a too-bright green. As water pounded the concrete and students rushed toward the school, I saw a hint of something on his face: a long muzzle, slitted eyes, a tongue lolling out between pointed fangs. My stomach twisted, but I blinked and Robbie was himself againânormal, grinning, unconcerned that he was getting drenched.
And so was I.
With a little yelp, I sprinted beneath the overhang and ducked inside the school. Robbie followed, laughing, pulling at my limp strands of hair until I smacked him and he stopped.
All through the first class, I kept glancing at Robbie, looking for that eerie, predatory hint on his face, wondering if I was crazy. All it got me was a sore neck and a brusque comment from my English teacher to pay attention and stop staring at boys.
WHEN THE LUNCH BELL RANG, I leaped up, my heart fluttering a hundred miles a minute. Scott was waiting for me in the cafeteria. I grabbed my books, stuffed them into my backpack, whirled aroundâ
And came face-to-face with Robbie, standing behind me.
I shrieked. âRob, Iâm going to smack you if you donât stop doing that! Now, move. I have to get somewhere.â
âDonât go.â His voice was quiet, serious. Surprised, I looked up at him. The perpetual goofy grin was gone, and his jaw was set. The look in his eyes was almost frightening. âThis is bad, I can feel it. Jockstrap is up to somethingâhe and his buddies were hanging around the yearbook department for a long time after he talked to you. I donât like it. Promise me you wonât go.â
I recoiled. âWere you eavesdropping on us?â I demanded, scowling. âWhatâs wrong with you? Ever hear of a âprivate conversationâ?â
âWaldron doesnât care about you.â Robbie crossed his arms, daring me to contradict him. âHeâll break your heart, princess. Trust me, Iâve seen enough of his kind to know.â
Anger flared, anger that he dared stick his nose into my affairs, anger that he could be right. âAgain, itâs none of your business, Rob!â I snapped, making his eyebrows arch. âAnd I can take care of myself, okay? Quit butting in where youâre not wanted.â
Hurt glimmered briefly, but then it was gone. âFine, princess.â He smirked, holding up his hands. âDonât get your royal pink panties in a twist. Forget I said anything.â
âI will.â Tossing my head, I flounced out of the room without looking back.
Guilt gnawed at me as I wove through the halls toward the cafeteria. I regretted snapping at Robbie, but sometimes his Big Brother act went too far. Still, Robbie had always been that wayâjealous, overprotective, forever looking out for me, like it was his job. I couldnât remember when I first met him; it felt like heâd always been there.
The cafeteria was noisy and dim. I hovered just inside the door, looking for Scott, only to see him at a table in the middle of the floor, surrounded by cheerleaders and football jocks. I hesitated. I couldnât just march up to that table and sit down; Angie Whitmond and her cheerleading squad would rip me to shreds.
Scott glanced up and saw me, and a lazy smile spread over his face. Taking that as an invitation, I started toward him, weaving my way past the tables. He flipped out his iPhone, pressed a button, and looked at me with half-lidded eyes, still grinning.
A phone rang close by.
I jumped a bit, but continued walking. Behind me, there were gasps, and then hysterical giggles. And then, the whispered conversation that always makes you think theyâre talking about you. I felt eyes on the back of my head. Trying to ignore it, I continued down the aisle.
Another phone rang.
And another.
And now, whispers and laughter were spreading like wildfire. For some reason, I felt horribly exposed, as if a spotlight shone right on me and I was on display. The laughter couldnât be directed at me, could it? I saw several people point in my direction, whispering among themselves, and tried my best to ignore them. Scottâs table was only a few feet away.
âHey, hot cheeks!â A hand smacked my ass and I shrieked. Spinning around, I glared at Dan Ottoman, a blond, pimply clarinet player from band. He leered back at me and winked.
âNever took you for a player, girl,â he said, trying to ooze charm but reminding me of a dirty Kermit the Frog. âCome down to band sometime. Iâve got a flute you can play.â
âWhat are you talking about?â I snarled, but he snickered and held up his phone.
At first, the screen was blank. But then a message flashed across it in bright yellow. âHow is Meghan Chase like a cold beer?â it read. I gasped, and the words disappeared as a picture flashed into view.
Me. Me with Scott in the parking lot, his arm around my shoulders, a wide leer on his face. Only nowâmy mouth dropped openâI was butt naked, staring at him in wonder, my eyes blank and stupid. Heâd obviously used Photoshop; my âbodyâ was obscenely skinny and featureless, like a dollâs, my chest as flat as a twelve-year-oldâs. I froze, and my heart stopped beating as the second part of the message scrolled over the screen.
âSheâs smooth and goes down easy!â
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and my cheeks flamed. Horrified, I looked up at Scott, to see his whole table roaring with laughter and pointing at me. Ring tones echoed through the cafeteria, and laughter pounded me like physical waves. I started trembling, and my eyes burned.
Covering my face, I turned and fled the cafeteria before I started wailing like a two-year-old. Shrieking laughter echoed around me, and tears stung my eyes like poison. I managed to cross the room without tripping over benches or my feet, bashed open the doors, and escaped into the hallway.
I spent nearly an hour in the corner stall of the girlsâ bathroom, sobbing my eyes out and planning my move to Canada, or possibly Fijiâsomewhere far, far away. I didnât dare show my face to anyone in this state ever again. Finally, as the tears slowed and my gasping breaths returned to normal, I reflected on how miserable my life had become.
I guess I should feel honored, I thought bitterly, holding my breath as a group of girls flocked into the bathroom. Scott took the time to personally ruin my life. I bet heâs never done that to anyone else. Lucky me, Iâm the worldâs biggest loser. Tears threatened again, but I was tired of bawling and held them back.
At first, I planned to hole up in the bathroom until school ended. But, if anyone missed me from class, this would be the first place theyâd look. So, I finally gathered the courage to tiptoe down to the nurseâs office and fake a horrid stomachache so I could hide out there.
The nurse stood about four feet in thick-heeled loafers, but the look she gave me when I peered through the door suggested she wasnât going to take any teenage foolishness. Her skin looked like that of a shrunken walnut, her white hair was pulled into a severe bun, and she wore tiny gold glasses on the end of her nose.
âWell, now, Ms. Chase,â she said in a gravelly, high-pitched voice, setting aside her clipboard. âWhat are you doing here?â
I blinked, wondering how she knew me. Iâd only been to the nurseâs office once before, when a stray soccer ball hit me in the nose. Back then, the nurse was bony and tall, with an overbite that made her look like a horse. This plump, shriveled little woman was new, and slightly unnerving, with the way she stared at me.
âI have a stomachache,â I complained, holding my navel like it was about to burst. âI just need to lie down for a few minutes.â
âOf course, Ms. Chase. There are some cots in the back. Iâll bring you something to make you feel better.â
I nodded and moved into a room divided by several huge sheets. Except for myself and the nurse, the room was empty. Perfect. I chose a corner cot and lay back on the paper-covered mattress.
Moments later, the nurse appeared, handing me a Dixie cup full of something that bubbled and steamed. âTake this, youâll feel better,â she said, pressing the cup into my hand.
I stared at it. The fizzling white liquid smelled like chocolate and herbs, except stronger, somehow, a mix so potent it made my eyes water. âWhat is it?â I asked.
The nurse just smiled and left the room.
I took a cautious sip and felt warmth spread from my throat down to my stomach. The taste was incredible, like the richest chocolate in the world, with just a hint of bitter aftertaste. I quaffed the rest in two gulps, holding the cup upside down to get the last drops.
Almost immediately, I felt sleepy. Lying back on the crinkly mattress, I closed my eyes for just a moment, and everything faded away.
I AWOKE TO LOW VOICES, talking in furtive tones, just beyond the curtains. I tried to move, but it felt like my body was wrapped in cotton, my head filled with gauze. I struggled to keep my eyes open. On the other side of the sheets, I saw two silhouettes.
âDonât do anything reckless,â warned a low, gravelly voice. The nurse, I thought, wondering, in my delirium, if she would give me more of that chocolaty stuff. âRemember, your duty is to watch the girl. You must not do anything that will draw attention.â
âMe?â asked a tantalizingly familiar voice. âDraw attention to myself? Would I do such a thing?â
The nurse snorted. âIf the entire cheerleading squad turns into mice, Robin, I will be very upset with you. Mortal adolescents are blind and cruel. You know that. You mustnât take revenge, no matter how you feel about the girl. Especially now. There are more worrisome things on the move.â
Iâm dreaming, I decided. That must be it. What was in that drink, anyway? In the dim light, the silhouettes playing across the curtain looked confusing and strange. The nurse, it seemed, was even smaller, barely three feet in height. The other shadow was even more peculiar: normal-size, but with strange protrusions on the side of his head that looked like horns, or ears.
The taller shadow sighed and moved to sit in a chair, crossing his long legs. âIâve heard the same,â he muttered. âDark rumors are stirring. The Courts are restless. Seems like something is out there that has both of them scared.â
âWhich is why you must continue to be both her shield and her guardian.â The nurse turned, putting both hands on her hips, her voice chiding. âIâm surprised you havenât given her the mist wine yet. She is sixteen today. The veil is beginning to lift.â
âI know, I know. Iâm getting to it.â The shadow sighed, putting his head in his hands. âIâll take care of that later this afternoon. How is she?â
âResting,â said the nurse. âPoor thing, she was traumatized. I gave her a mild sleep potion that will knock her out until she goes home.â
A chuckle. âThe last kid who drank one of your âmildâ sleep potions didnât wake up for two weeks. Youâre one to talk about being inconspicuous.â
The nurseâs reply was garbled and broken, but I was almost sure she said, âSheâs her fatherâs daughter. Sheâll be fine.â Or maybe it was just me. The world went fuzzy, like an out-of-focus camera, and I knew nothing for a time.
âMEGHAN!â
Someone was shaking me awake. I cursed and flailed, momentarily confused, and finally lifted my head. My eyes felt like they had ten pounds of sand in them, and sleep gook crusted the corners, making it impossible to focus. Groaning, I wiped my lids and stared blearily into Robbieâs face. For a moment, his brow was furrowed with concern. Then I blinked and he was his normal, grinning self.
âWakey wakey, sleeping beauty,â he teased as I struggled to a sitting position. âLucky you, school is out. Itâs time to go home.â
âHuh?â I muttered intelligently, wiping the last traces of sleep snot from my eyes. Robbie snorted and pulled me to my feet.
âHere,â he said, handing me my backpack, heavy with books. âYouâre lucky Iâm such a great friend. I got notes for all the classes you missed after lunch. Oh, and youâre forgiven, by the way. I wonât even say âI told you so.ââ
He was speaking too fast. My brain was still asleep, my mind foggy and disconnected. âWhat are you talking about?â I mumbled, shrugging into my pack.
And then I remembered.
âI need to call my mom,â I said, dropping back on the cot. Robbie frowned and looked confused. âShe has to come pick me up,â I elaborated. âNo way am I getting on the bus, ever again.â Despair settled on me, and I hid my face in my hands.
âLook, Meghan,â Robbie said, âI heard what happened.
Itâs not a big deal.â
âAre you on crack?â I asked, glaring at him through my fingers. âThe whole school is talking about me. This will probably go in the school paper. Iâll be crucified if I show my face in public. And you say itâs not a big deal?â
I drew my knees to my chest and buried my head in them. Everything was so horribly unfair. âItâs my birthday,â I moaned into my jeans. âThis isnât supposed to happen to people on their birthdays.â
Robbie sighed. Dropping his bag, he sat down and put his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. I sniffled and shed a few tears into his jacket, listening to his heartbeat through his shirt. It thudded rapidly against his chest, like heâd been sprinting several miles.
âCome on.â Robbie stood, pulling me up with him. âYou can do this. And I promise, no one will care what happened today. By tomorrow, everyone will have forgotten about it.â
He smiled, squeezing my arm. âBesides, donât you have a driverâs permit to get?â
That one bright spark in the black misery of my life gave me hope. I nodded, steeling myself for what was to come. We left the nurseâs office together, Robbieâs hand clasped firmly around mine.
âJust stick close,â he muttered as we neared the crowded part of the hallway. Angie and three of her groupies stood in front of the lockers, chattering away and snapping their gum. My stomach tensed and my heart began to pound. Robbie squeezed my hand. âItâs okay. Donât let go of me, and donât say anything to anyone. They wonât even notice weâre here.â
As we neared the cluster of girls, I prepared for them to turn on me with their laughter and their ugly remarks. But we swept by them without so much as a glance, though Angie was in the midst of describing my shameful retreat from the cafeteria.
âAnd then she, like, started bawling,â Angie said, her nasal voice cutting through the hall. âAnd I was like, omygod sheâs such a loser. But what can you expect from an inbred hillbilly?â Her voice dropped to a whisper and she leaned forward. âI heard her mom has an unnatural obsession with pigs, if you know what I mean.â
The girls broke into a chorus of shocked giggles, and I almost snapped. Robbie, however, tightened his grip and pulled me away. I heard him mutter something under his breath, and felt a shudder go through the air, like thunder with no sound.
Behind us, Angie started to scream.
I tried to turn back, but Robbie yanked me onward, weaving through the crowd as the rest of the students jerked their heads toward the shrieking. But, for a split second, I saw Angie covering her nose with her hands, and her screams were sounding more and more like the squeals of a pig.
CHAPTER THREE
The Changeling
The bus ride home was silent, at least between Robbie and me. Partly because I didnât want to draw attention to myself, but mainly because I had a lot on my mind. We sat in the back corner, with me crushed against the window, staring at the trees flashing by. I had my iPod out and my headphones blasting my eardrums, but it was mostly an excuse not to talk to anyone.
Angieâs piglike screams still echoed through my head. It was probably the most horrible sound Iâd ever heard, and though she was a total bitch, I couldnât help but feel a little guilty.
There was no doubt in my mind that Robbie had done something to her, though I couldnât prove it. I was actually afraid to bring it up. Robbie seemed like a different person now, quiet, brooding, watching the kids on the bus with predatorlike intensity. He was acting weirdâweird and creepyâand I wondered what was wrong with him.
Then there was that strange dream, which I was beginning to think hadnât really been a dream at all. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the familiar voice talking to the nurse had been Robbieâs.
Something was happening, something strange and creepy and terrifying, and the scariest part of all was that it wore a familiar, ordinary face. I snuck a glance at Robbie. How well did I know him, really know him? Heâd been my friend for longer than I could remember, and yet Iâd never been to his house, or met his parents. The few times I suggested meeting at his place, heâd always had some excuse not to; his folks were out of town, or they were remodeling the kitchen, a kitchen Iâd never seen. That was strange, but what was weirder was the fact that Iâd never wondered about it, never questioned it, until now. Robbie was simply there, like heâd been conjured out of nothing, with no background, no home, and no past. What was his favorite music? Did he have goals in life? Had he ever fallen in love?
Not at all, my mind whispered, disturbingly. You donât know him at all.
I shivered and looked out the window again.
The bus lurched to a halt at a four-way stop, and I saw weâd left the outskirts of town and were now heading into the boondocks. My neighborhood. Rain still spattered the windows, making the swampy marshlands blurry and indistinct, the trees fuzzy dark shapes through the glass.
I blinked and straightened up in my seat. Deep in the swamp, a horse and rider stood beneath the limbs of an enormous oak, as still as the trees themselves. The horse was a huge black animal with a mane and tail that rippled behind it, even drenched as it was. Its rider was tall and lean, garbed in silver and black. A dark cape fluttered from its shoulders. Through the rain, I caught the barest glimpse of a face: young, pale, strikingly handsome ⦠staring right at me. My stomach lurched and I caught my breath.
âRob,â I murmured, pulling my headphones out, âlook at thaââ
Robbieâs face was inches from mine, staring out the window, his eyes narrowed to green slits, hard and dangerous. My stomach twisted and I leaned away from him, but he didnât notice me. His lips moved, and he whispered one word, so soft I barely caught it, even as close as we were.
âAsh.â
âAsh?â I repeated. âWhoâs Ash?â
The bus coughed and lurched forward again. Robbie leaned back, his face so still it couldâve been carved from stone. Swallowing, I looked out the window, but the space beneath the oak was empty. Horse and rider were gone, like theyâd never existed.
THE WEIRDNESS KEPT getting weirder.
âWhoâs Ash?â I repeated, turning back to Robbie, who seemed to be in his own world. âRobbie? Hey!â I poked him in the shoulder. He twitched and finally looked at me. âWho is Ash?â
âAsh?â For a moment, his eyes were bright and feral, his face like that of a wild dog. Then he blinked and was normal again. âOh, heâs just an old buddy of mine, from long ago. Donât worry about it, princess.â
His words slid over me strangely, like he was willing me to forget simply by requesting it. I felt a prickle of annoyance that he was hiding something, but it quickly faded, because I couldnât remember what we were talking about.
At our curb, Robbie leaped up as if the seat was on fire and rushed out the door. Blinking at his abrupt departure, I put my iPod safely in my backpack before leaving the bus. The last thing I wanted was for the expensive thing to get wet.
âI have to go,â Robbie announced when I joined him on the pavement. His green eyes swept through the trees, as if he expected something to come crashing out of the woods. I gazed around, but except for some bird trilling overhead, the forest was quiet and still. âI ⦠um ⦠forgot something at home.â He turned to me then with an apologetic look. âSee you tonight, princess? Iâll bring that champagne over later, okay?â
âOh.â Iâd forgotten about that. âSure.â
âGo straight home, okay?â Robbie narrowed his eyes, his face intense. âDonât stop, and donât talk to anyone you meet, got it?â
I laughed nervously. âWhat are you, my mom? Are you going to tell me not to run with scissors and to look both ways before crossing the street? Besides,â I continued as Robbie smirked, looking more like his normal self, âwho would I meet way out here in the boondocks?â The image of the boy on the horse suddenly came to mind, and my stomach did that strange little flop again. Who was he? And why couldnât I stop thinking about him, if he even existed at all? Things were getting really odd. If it wasnât for Robbieâs weird reaction on the bus, I would think the boy was another of my crazy hallucinations.
âFine.â Robbie waved, flashing his mischievous grin. âSee you later, princess. Donât let Leatherface catch you on your way home.â
I kicked at him. He laughed, bounced away, and sprinted off down the road. Shouldering my backpack, I trudged up the driveway.
âMOM?â I CALLED, OPENING THE front door. âMom, Iâm home.â Silence greeted me, echoing off the walls and floor, hanging heavy in the air. The stillness was almost a living thing, crouched in the center of the room, watching me with cold eyes. My heart began a loud, irregular thud in my chest. Something was wrong.
âMom?â I called again, venturing into the house. âLuke? Anybody home?â The door creaked as I crept in farther. The television blared and flickered, playing a rerun of an old black-and-white sitcom, though the couch in front of it was empty. I switched it off and continued down the hall, into the kitchen.
For a moment, everything looked normal, except for the refrigerator door, swinging on its hinges. A small object on the floor caught my attention. At first, I thought it was a dirty rag. But, looking closer, I saw it was Floppy, Ethanâs rabbit. The stuffed animalâs head had been torn off, and cotton spilled from the hole in the neck.
Straightening, I heard a small noise on the other side of the dining table. I walked around, and my stomach twisted so violently that bile rose to my throat.
My mother lay on her back on the checkered tile floor, arms and legs flung akimbo, one side of her face covered in glistening crimson. Her purse, its contents scattered everywhere, lay beside one limp white hand. Standing over her in the doorway, his head cocked to one side like a curious cat, was Ethan.
And he was smiling.
âMOM!â I SCREAMED, FLINGING myself down beside her. âMom, are you okay?â I grabbed one shoulder and shook her, but it was like shaking a dead fish. Her skin was still warm, though, so she couldnât be dead. Right?
Where the hell is Luke? I shook her again, watching her head flop limply. It made my stomach turn. âMom, wake up! Can you hear me? Itâs Meghan.â I looked around frantically, then snatched a washrag off the sink. As I dabbed it over her bloodied face, I became aware again of Ethan standing in the doorway, his blue eyes now wide and teary.
âMommy slipped,â he whispered, and I noticed a clear, slick puddle on the floor in front of the refrigerator. Hand trembling, I dipped a finger in the goo and sniffed. Vegetable oil? What the hell? I wiped more blood off her face and noticed a small gash on her temple, nearly invisible beneath blood and hair.