Wild Sky 2 (20 page)

Milo was careful not to curse out loud this time. But I could tell by the way his jaw tightened that he was extremely unhappy.

Once the door was completely closed, Rochelle worked on checking and rechecking that the bolt was locked again.

“What’re those thingies in her hand?” Garrett asked.

“What thingies?” Cal asked.

“There—” Garrett began to point, but Rochelle was already moving out of the camera’s static view.

There was another pause, and then she reappeared again, this time in front of the sofa in the living room. The camera in the floral arrangement was positioned perfectly, and we had a clear shot of Rochelle as she sat down.

We could now see that she held not one but two syringes…along with a little vial of liquid and two rubber tourniquets—the kind that the lab tech uses before drawing blood. She set it all down on the glass coffee table in front of her. And, because of the camera in the strategically placed floral arrangement, in front of us, too.

“Wait. Is that—”

“Destiny, already in the syringes.” Dana finished my sentence. “Street D, lower-grade stuff. You can tell ’cause it’s red-tinged, from blood. That’s processed out of the purer shit. Good eye, Garrett,” she added.

“Is she… She’s gonna—shoot up? Right now?” Squeamish, Garrett looked like he might barf.

Dana nodded grimly.

“What’s in the vial?” Cal asked as Rochelle added a hefty amount of whatever it was to one of the syringes, then shook it as if to mix it up.

“I bet she’s morphing it up,” Dana mumbled.

Milo nodded his agreement.

I had no idea what that meant. Cal apparently didn’t have a clue either. “Um, English, please?” he asked sweetly.

None of us turned away from the TV screen, but Dana ran an impatient hand through her hair as she watched Rochelle do the same to the second syringe. “Morphing it up. Morphine.” She sighed, disgust tingeing her voice. “It’s the latest thing. Soup up your Destiny with either morphine or dope. Heroin.”

“I know what dope is,” Cal said defensively.

I actually hadn’t. But there was a reason why Dana always called me Bubble Gum and Princess. I didn’t exactly have a ton of experience with drugs, and my street cred was zilch.

My stomach twisted as I remembered only a few months ago when Milo had reassured me that there was nothing wrong with not being street-smart. He had held my hand when he’d said it. It was right after we’d learned that we could communicate through touch, but before we’d become more than friends.

Now, Milo sat across the room from me. But he might as well have been across the entire country in California, along with my other ex, Tom Diaz. I caught myself. Milo wasn’t my
other
ex. He wasn’t my ex. Oh my Lord, was I really starting to think of Milo as my
ex
?

I willed my thoughts back to the present.

Morphine. Or heroin. Mixed with Destiny.

Dana was still talking. “The theory is that sedation makes it easier for the body to accept the dose of Destiny. So the chances of jokering are lower. At least that’s what people try to convince themselves. Who knows if it’s really any safer?”

“Wait,” Garrett said. “Jokering is what, again?”

“When Destiny addicts go full-on, super-villain insane,” Cal informed him. “It happens with a much higher rate of frequency when they shoot up.”

“Kind of like overdosing, except instead of quietly dying, they kill everyone around them before they check out,” Dana said.

“Destiny addicts develop their own unique superpowers,” I chimed in. “Kind of the same way that no two Greater-Thans have the exact same abilities—like Dana has serious TK while mine is limited to moving liquids. She can mind-control people, but I can’t. I can home in on them and track them, but she can’t. Right? It’s the same for D-addicts. Their powers are unique.”

“And those powers get increasingly stronger when they joker,” Calvin said.

“Which means it gets increasingly harder to kill a joker,” Milo pointed out. “It’s always best to do it fast.”

“Good to know,” Garrett muttered.

Dana pointed to the TV screen as Rochelle put down the second syringe. “What I can’t figure out is, why two needles?”

I had been wondering the same thing.

We didn’t wonder long though.

Because just then Rochelle’s doorbell rang.

“Destiny party?” Cal asked in a grim tone.

“Or it’s the ginormous man, come to stand guard while she’s morphing it up,” I suggested, and even though Milo shifted in his seat, he didn’t contradict me.

“Come on in, Ash. It’s open—but lock it behind you, ’kay?” Rochelle called.

“Hey, Ro. Ooh, looks like you’re all ready for me!” Another woman walked into the camera frame and sat down on the couch next to Rochelle, giving her one of those weird not-quite-touching hugs and air kisses on each non-cheek.

“Aww,” Cal gushed. “Demon lady’s got a lil’ buddy!”

“That’s Ashley,” Milo informed us.

“Lunch-at-Harbor-Locke Ashley?” Dana asked, and Milo nodded. “She’s definitely a user, too.”

Like Rochelle, this woman was blond, tan, and Barbie-doll perfect. She handed “Ro” a huge wad of cash that was immediately pocketed.

Garrett made a strangled sound, and when I glanced over at him, it was obvious he was torn. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he should start drooling—the two women were, after all, movie-star hot—or puking, since they were also about to inject enzymes from the blood of innocent little girls into their veins.

We all fell silent as Rochelle helped Ashley tie off her arm above the elbow, and then Ashley did the same for Rochelle. All the while they were chatting about needing to shop for dresses for some upcoming gala and the color of their nail polish and Ashley’s new shoes. They tapped the insides of their elbows on the tied arm with a casual air—it was clear they were old hands at this—then both women picked up a syringe and thrust their needles underneath their skin.

Garrett cringed and looked away. “This is so effed.”

Milo chewed on his gum, his jaw working hard.

The two women instantly slumped against the couch. For a second, I actually thought that neither Rochelle nor her friend would possess the energy to extract the now-empty syringes from their arms. They were
that
out of it.

“Morphing it up, for sure,” Milo said.

Dana nodded as Rochelle managed to rouse herself long enough to whisk both needles out of their skin and even pull off the tourniquets before carelessly tossing it all onto the glass tabletop. She then leaned back into the couch cushions and shut her eyes.

It was one of the most disturbing things I’d ever seen. Those two women—just fine moments ago—their eyes now heavy lidded and bodies now limp.

“Just say no to drugs,” Cal offered.

But there was nothing funny about this.

Milo interjected, “We could go inside there now. Try to get into the closet while Ro and Ashley are…indisposed.”

“No.” Dana’s response was fast and adamant. “They’re not completely unconscious. And even if they were, there’s no guarantee that one of them won’t suddenly joker. Nobody’s going into that house right now.”

Milo’s frustration was painfully evident. “So we’re just going to leave Jilly in there with two ticking time bombs.”

Garrett was the color of sour milk. I was feeling pretty freaked out myself. This
was
a lot to just walk into.

“We don’t know for sure that Jilly is in there,” Dana reminded Milo. “We’re not going to put anyone else in danger for a maybe that leans heavily toward maybe-not. It’s safer to wait ’til Rochelle leaves.”

“We might be running out of time,” Milo countered.

“We’ll go in there
tonight
,” Dana insisted. She turned to the rest of us, after deciding that since the Rochelle and Ashley Show now consisted of them lying on the couch like skinny, blond, beached whales, she no longer needed to keep watching. “Guys. Miles is right about not wasting time. We don’t need to sit around and do nothing this afternoon. In fact”—she looked at me—“we’ll use these next coupla hours to talk to Morgan.”

I laughed. Really? Just like that? Snap our fingers and
talk to Morgan
—who didn’t want to be found.

Dana continued without skipping a beat. “Clearly Cal and Sky couldn’t get the job done. But
I
will. I should’ve been there in the first place. Mind-controlled that stupid John Morningstar into taking us to see Morgan.”

“John Morningstar,” Garrett scoffed. “Sounds like a porn name.”

Dana ignored him. “Sky,” she said instead. “You met Morningstar. That means you can home in on him now.”

And
that
was how we were going to find Morgan even though she didn’t want to be found. I looked at Cal, who shrugged. “It’s true. We can track him.”

“We?” I asked.

“You,” he said.

And once again, everyone was looking at me.

It was always weird to perform under pressure, like doing a circus trick for an audience. I attempted to focus and search for the little flicker of awareness that was John Morningstar. He was out there, somewhere, and I
should’ve
been able to feel him…but I got nothing. I shook my head. “I don’t know—”

“You can do it,” Dana insisted.

I looked over at Milo, who was gazing back at me. His eyes were warm, for once. He surprised me by leaning across the couch and holding out his hand.

I didn’t take it right away, and he smiled ruefully. “I know I’m just a normie, but maybe I can help.”

“I didn’t mean that,” I said again.

“I know.” He motioned for me to take his hand, so I did and our connection—warm, familiar, wonderful—clicked on. Lord, I’d missed this.

I have, too
, he told me.

But I could feel the mental walls he’d put up—larger and sturdier than his usual barriers—and I got a strong sense that he was bracing himself. As if part of him expected me to take some kind of weird telepathic run at those walls, to get over them and see what was on the other side—to see exactly what Milo was hiding.

I wouldn’t
, I thought at him and of course he also picked up my hurt that he would think I would just go rifling through his mental underwear drawer, uninvited.

It’s not you, it’s me
, he told me, adding quickly,
FOR me, I mean
. He knew I didn’t understand, so he tried again with,
I’m trying to protect you, Sky. You don’t need my chaos right now. You need to focus
.

I realized as I gazed back at him that I could construct my own walls—boundaries—to keep him from
my
chaos, too. It wasn’t all that hard to do, although don’t ask me how I did it. I just…wanted it to happen, so it did.

I felt Milo’s sigh of frustration, even as I successfully hid my own burst of grief. As our relationship progressed, I’d thought we’d move closer, but this was a solid step apart.

Just for now
, Milo promised, and I wanted to believe him, so I left all my doubts on the non-Milo side of my own sturdy mental wall. But believe me, they were there, stewing around plenty.

Focus
, Milo told me.
Can you feel John Morningstar? Can you home in on him?

Sure enough, with Milo’s help, I realized that I
could
feel Morningstar. It wasn’t a huge pull—not the same insistent feeling when I’d led us to Alabama to rescue Sasha. But that college boy we’d met up at the CoffeeBoy in Palm River was definitely present. I could feel him in the back of my brain, like little pieces of pixie dust floating around like cosmic breadcrumbs. If I followed them, we’d find John Morningstar.

“Okay,” I said aloud. “Yeah, I got this.”

Milo squeezed my hand before letting go.

“
Heh. Heh-heh.
” Garrett’s obnoxious little snicker sliced through the air. “Superhero girls.”

Dana cut the super-douche off with a “Yeah, yeah. The superhero girls need to go on a mission now. You get to stay here and monitor the two crazies. Call Cal’s phone if there’s any change.
Any
change. As in, if they move
at all
.”

As far as assignments went, it was kind of lame. And Garrett knew it. But he nodded begrudgingly. “Fine,” he said. “Calvin, you sure your parents aren’t coming home?”

“Mom’s on a business trip in Atlanta,” Cal reported, “and Dad’s got a project deadline. If he shows up, it’ll be to grab a clean shirt and head back to the office. Just turn off the TV and tell him that I ran out to get pizza.”

Dana clapped her hands. “Bathroom up, gang. We might be in the car awhile.”

Cal rolled off to do just that, as Milo and I both scrambled to our feet.

“Although, let’s just hope Morningstar didn’t take a trip to Alabama,” Dana continued. “I’d really like to stay at least semi-local here.”

Out of habit, I reached for Milo’s hand, and this time he only took a half a heartbeat to brace himself and reinforce his walls before he intertwined his fingers with mine.

Ready?
he asked.

Let’s do this.

And, for that moment, despite the mental walls we’d both erected, I almost felt as if I had my boyfriend back again.

Chapter
Thirteen

“Guys?” Milo’s voice was low but urgent. “Sky. Heads up.”

The dogs had come out of nowhere, their growls ominous as they peered out of tunnels, from behind trash piles, and around the corners of abandoned midway booths. I’d been leading the way, but I now stopped and counted six sets of ferocious eyes locked on us. Dana was right behind me, with Calvin rolling beside her. Milo had our backs, trailing a few steps behind. But we now all froze.

“Whoa, they’re pit bulls,” Calvin said. “Big ones. Five of ’em.”

“Six,” I corrected him.

“Don’t look directly at them,” Dana said in a calm, almost too-quiet voice. “They’ll read that as aggressive.”

Currently, I was reading
their
growling as aggressive, oh and also?
Pit bulls
. They didn’t need to growl—their simple existence here was enough to intimidate the crap out of me.