Black Beast (31 page)

“You took a while,” he mumbled. “I was afraid I'd stepped on you.”

“Turn around and shut the door. If you look, I'll kill you.” She was glad it was dark and he couldn't see her face. “How long is awhile?”

“Five minutes.”

Fucking ant.

“I lost myself to the ant. It really wanted to bring you a piece of candy it found on the ground.”

“On the ground?” He made a face at his sneakers. “Why?”

“I guess it thought you were the queen of the hive or something. I don't know.” She tugged the sweatshirt on over her head. “You can look at me now, by the way. I'm done changing.”

Obediently, he lifted his head. “I forgot ants had hive mentalities.” His voice held awe. “I've never been an ant.”

“You don't want to.”

And there was a brief silence as they both took in the fact that he never could.

“So,” David began tentatively, still a bit red in the face, “What now?”

Catherine looked around. They were inside Mr. Hauberk's biology lab—a place that was merely tolerable during the daytime—and now it was dark. She was highly aware of the shadowy specimen cabinet behind his desk, the chemical smells, the lingering odor of disinfectant.

“Um, find the crickets, I guess,” she said. “Where would he keep them? In here?”

“No, there's a storage area in the adjoining room.” David pointed to a door, also behind Mr. Hauberk's desk, that she'd never really noticed before because he'd always kept it closed. “They keep supplies in there for all the science classes; prepared slides, extra microscopes, scantrons…”

She stared at him. “And you know this how?”

“It's also a study area. Off-limits, unless a teacher is present. I come in here to study sometimes during Mr. Hauberk's office hours. What?” he demanded suddenly, looking at her.

She schooled her expression. “Nothing.”

To get to the door, they had to squeeze between Mr. Hauberk's desk and a scale-model replica of the human body. Over the past few weeks he had also become an impromptu lost and found. Bedecked as he was in a Christmas cardigan—damn, she should have used that to cover herself with from David— with a purse hung over his shoulder, and a Giants cap perched jauntily on his head, the model had become a source of amusement for her biology class.

In the dark, though, he looked sinister.

David bumped into him. The model wobbled precariously but stayed upright, to her relief. Then the cheap plastic purse fell to the ground. The muffled crash sounded as loud as a cannon shot in the darkness, and to their sensitive ears, and they both jumped accordingly.

David immediately bent to pick up the purse but Catherine shook her head. “Leave it.”

He gave her a look that suggested she was insane. “Why?”

“I told you, we don't want this to look like an inside job. Kids are clumsy—they make mistakes.”

Her hand closed around the doorknob and she twisted, satisfied with her explanation.

“Spoken like a true criminal,” was his dry response. “I will say this, though. You really do have this all planned out.” There was grudging admiration in his voice. She refused to read too much into it.

“It's locked.” She looked at the door. “Looks like I'll have to Change into an ant again.”

“Let me do it.”

She coughed. “Um. Excuse me. I am perfectly capable of opening a door for myself. Or are you afraid the strain might make me swoon?”

“No,” he said, giving her a very un-David look. “I'm afraid I might not be so good about giving you your clothes back this time and ravish you in the event of this hypothetical swooning.”

“Dick.” She wasn't sure whether to laugh or hit him. In that heartbeat of hesitation, David did something to the door that she couldn't see, which caused it to swing wide open. “How did you do that?”

“I'm not going to tell you. You're dangerous enough already.”

Impressed in spite of herself, and secretly pleased, Catherine stepped into the room.

David hadn't been kidding. The table to her left was covered with computers. One was hooked up to a microscope that looked very high-tech and expensive—she'd take care to avoid that, then—and to her right were bins full of prepared slides. She recognized the onion root-tip as well as several other slides her class had used in previous labs. The tank was on the back counter, sandwiched between a broken light microscope and a stack of spare biology textbooks.

“Over here,” she called out in a loud whisper, waving David over. “I found them!”

There were about a dozen crickets in there, along with enough food and water to keep them happy until tomorrow. David came up behind her to look, close enough that she could feel his body heat through the soft material of his sweatshirt.

His eyes still on the crickets, he bent low, closer to her ear. “How do we get them out?”

“The window,” she said immediately.

They both turned to look at the window. It was big—about three feet wide and four feet tall—with a hatch at the top. The kind that needed to be opened with a long metal rod.

David exhaled slowly. “Remind me, what am I supposed to do again?”

“Get the rod.”

It struck her suddenly that David Tran was actually a pretty cool guy. They weren't even friends—not anymore, anyway—and here he was, breaking about a thousand school rules that could easily compromise his acceptance into Berkeley. And he was doing it because she had asked him to. She was touched. She even offered to open the window.

“Are you sure you'll be able to reach it?” he asked, handing over the rod. She could tell he wasn't sorry to pass the baton, so to speak, but he looked and sounded doubtful.

“I'll be fine.”

“You're not even wearing gloves. What about fingerprints?”

David had already slipped on some Latex gloves from the supply cabinet.

She felt a momentary pang of remorse for her stupidity, and a surge of annoyance at David for being such a know-it-all—this was her mission. Who was he to take control like this?

“There's a thousand fingerprints on this thing,” she said, turning it around in her hands rebelliously. “It's like a doorknob.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'll smear it with a wet paper towel when I'm done,” she said hotly. “Happy?”

Instead of answering, he said, “I really don't think you're tall enough to reach that window.”

“I know that.”

She pushed a chair against the wall to stand on. The latch was tricky; she had to try several times to get the rod through the small, metal loop. When she managed at last, she pulled too quickly in her eagerness to get it over with and nearly lost her balance.

The window fell open with a loud bang. A breeze gusted in, blowing some worksheets off the back counter. David rushed to retrieve them. Catherine froze as Prey took hold of her. She grasped the rod in both hands, holding it in front of her like a shield as she waited for the alarm that was beginning to seem inevitable. Maybe, she thought, maybe this was a stupid idea.

Fear had her paralyzed; it forced to her to see her plan without its veneer of optimism.

Suppose she got caught?

Suppose the schools she'd applied to—Fresno State, Humboldt State, UC Merced—got wind of the expulsion that would inevitably follow, and unanimously decided that they didn't need her sort enrolled? They'd shred her applications for sure. Was she destroying her future for a bunch of invertebrates?

Then Catherine remembered the dream—that awful dream—and shivered.

“Catherine.” David's hand fell on her shoulder. She went rigid and her vision sharpened. “It's me, just me. Are you all right?”

“I'll be better if you stopped sneaking up on me like that,” she snapped.

“Sorry.” He didn't sound sorry enough.

Catherine set the rod on the counter. “There's no security cameras in here, right?”

David shook his head. “They say there are, but they don't work. Only the ones at the front gates do.” He gave her a look. “Wait, you didn't know that? And you were going to do this anyway?”

Ignoring him, Catherine rifled through her mental file of birds. She couldn't do hawk even though that was her preferred mode of transport. With her luck, some bird nut would note the strange nocturnal behavior of the local hawks and attract the attention of every Slayer within a ten-mile radius.

“I take back what I said about you having this planned out,” said David.

“I wasn't looking for your approval, David—now shut up.”

She needed something nocturnal. For some reason a bat popped up. Catherine deliberated but ultimately ended up trashing the idea. Too small. She'd never had any experience with bats, either, and wasn't sure how strong its Prey instincts were. She didn't want something that would freak out in the open. A raptor was definitely a safer bet.

“I have to be home soon,” David said, sensing her hesitation. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Don't get your panties in a twist,” she said.

David sighed again, louder this time, but not just because he was impatient. Though he would never admit it, he was enjoying the thrill.

Catherine closed her eyes. An intense feeling of peace swept over her, leaving every muscle in her body relaxed. Owl, she decided absently. She would change into a barn owl. It was one of the most common species of owls in the world. Nobody would be suspicious, seeing one of those flying around.