15.

Deena at 15 the first time around "It moved," Deena said.

Harper threw her dirty jeans in the basket and chuckled. "Didn't."

Deena pulled her sleeve up to reveal the tiny blemish. "Look. It was closer to my elbow last night. Swear."

Harper barely glanced. "Same place it's always been."

Deena sighed. She'd been sure of it this time. The blemish had jumped from place to place a number of times, but always ended up back where it started when she went to show someone. "It is now, but yesterday..."

"Yesterday, whatever." Harper looked around their bedroom and spotted more rumpled clothes and stuffed them in with the rest.

"Come on," Deena said. Her sister was always dismissing Deena. It wasn't just this little pimple or mole, or whatever the h.e.l.l it was, she never listened to anything Deena had to say. They were separated by just a few years, but they never seemed to see eye to eye on anything.

Harper tossed the laundry basket on the bed and pulled open the drawer of their dresser. "Fine. Come here."

"Huh?" Deena was afraid of what her sister was up to. The sudden interest felt like a trap.

Harper grabbed Deena's arm roughly and found the spot with her finger. "This is it, right?"

Deena nodded.

Harper popped the cap on a permanent black marker and drew a wide circle around the dark thing on Deena's arm. "There." She tossed the marker onto the top of the dresser. "Now we'll see if it moves. Now we'll know for sure and you can shut the f.u.c.k up about it. Sound good?" Harper went back to gathering clothes for the laundry.

Deena stepped back. Her big sister rarely cussed. "Geez. Take it easy. Don't let Mom hear you talk like that."

"Whatever." Harper grabbed the laundry and walked out the door.

Deena looked at the mark on her arm. The circle drawn there had the blemish nearly dead center in the middle. Her sister was ever the perfectionist. At first it seemed a little stupid, but she realized it might be the only way to convince Harper what was going on.

She licked her finger and scrubbed at the black circle. "c.r.a.p, that looks really stupid."

In study hall the next day, Deena caught herself staring at it. There was nothing else of interest to do, really, other than homework. She gauged how close it was to the edge of the circle her sister had drawn. It certainly seemed to have moved closer to the edge, or maybe the round spot itself had just gotten bigger. With a little spit on her fingers, Deena rubbed at the marker, trying to get it off.

At the front of the study hall, three students came in late and handed the monitor a note. One of the tardy students was Mike Fischer, the boy Harper had been dating for a few weeks. He was kind of a d.i.c.k and Deena didn't really care for him. He played soccer, told rude jokes and didn't seem to care that his grades were in free fall. There were rumors that he was cheating on Harper, but no one could really prove it. Deena grumbled to herself about Mike being late yet again to study hall and went back to trying to remove the mark from her arm.

She was surprised to see that the little dark point on her arm no longer seemed to be circular. As she'd been watching Mike, the dot had flattened itself out and appeared to be more of a curved line. In fact, from her vantage point, it almost looked like a frown. She nearly jumped up from her desk to run and show her sister. Deena wanted to do it immediately, before the blotch had time to change again. As soon as she stood, the study hall monitor gave Deena a dirty look. Deena had pressed her luck with the monitor before and there was no way the frowny face spot on Deena's arm would be a viable excuse to get out of the room. Study hall was her last period of the day and she could easily catch her sister at home afterward.

Deena sat back down and stared at the spot some more. It still showed as a frown. For the rest of the study hall, she looked at nothing but the curved black line on her arm. She wondered if she could change it even further. Deena had sworn it had moved around, but she'd never seen it as anything but round. Yet here it was: a curved line, a frown, like the circle had detached and moved to the new shape.

After school she ran home to show her sister. By the time she got there, the line had once again become a circle.

16.

Stanley walked with the men to the empty suite two floors up from their own. It was originally owned by an insurance company that suddenly went out of business after the owner was killed in a tragic car accident. Stanley stopped being surprised by tragic accidents that occurred around his line of work. It was tough figuring out whose heart attacks were natural and whose were brought on by nefarious means. No death ever seemed perfectly innocent to him anymore. Natural deaths felt like a thing of the past.

One of the men, Frank, pushed Harper to make her move faster. "Let's get this over with." He waved to the room filled with office furniture covered in plastic. "We're going to hang out here and wait. Nothing stupid, please. Mr. Marsh asked us not to make a mess, but made it clear that he didn't give a s.h.i.t if you lived long enough to see your sister."

Stanley was still having trouble looking Harper in the eyes. Each look could be the last time he saw Harper alive and maybe, by diverting his eyes, he'd keep the girl from dying. There was no way they would kill her if Stanley didn't get a last glimpse. Statistically, that held no water, he realized. "I've checked to make sure the bathroom in the suite is stocked with the necessities, so you should be comfortable in that respect. There's a break room with some cups and a water cooler. If anyone gets... you know...thirsty or anything." There really wasn't much to say, but Stanley felt an obligation to play host and make sure everyone was comfortable. It was an odd thought to have at the potential scene of a murder.

"Oh, thanks. The fact that I can pee freely really does put me at ease," Harper said.

"Shut up," Frank said. "Is there any food? No telling how long we'll be here."

Stanley turned to the door. "I'll bring up what I can from downstairs." He got closer to Harper. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can get you?"

"A gun," Harper said.

Frank chuckled. "Not like you'd be able to hit anything with it."

Stanley walked out of the office, followed by two of the men, who rolled chairs out into the hall and sat down to guard the door. Stanley got on the elevator and pressed the b.u.t.ton for the ground floor. He felt helpless and his fingers curled into fists, he wanted to yell and punch the walls but held back. If anyone saw him freaking out, they'd know something was wrong. He couldn't have that. He had to remain as he'd always been, with a stony exterior. The FBI agents told him it wouldn't be long now and they'd be able to get him out and shut down Marsh for good.

They'd been saying that for months, though.

Stanley kept the books nice and neat. All of Datura Industries' honest businesses kept in perfect detail, while the rest of the money was hidden, kept in other coded ledgers that no one except Stanley could fully decipher. He hadn't handed any of that over to the FBI yet. Samples. Cookies that kept the authorities interested in helping Stanley, without busting him straight away. There was no chance he was going to jail. Not if they wanted Stanley to testify against Marsh. And if a sudden "accident" were to befall Stanley, Marsh himself wouldn't know the extent of his own empire. Money was scattered across the globe in secret accounts and other holdings. Most were there at Marsh's behest. Most.

Back at his desk, Stanley stirred his coffee in tight little circles with a flimsy red straw. He stared at the elevator, wanting hordes of heavily-armed federal agents to come pouring out with bulletproof vests and heavy machine guns. Flash grenades and riot helmets. Bra.s.s knuckles and broken beer bottles. Whatever. Stanley loved the magic of spreadsheets and numbers; violence wasn't his thing. He was fine with marking down the money Marsh brought in from murder and mayhem. He didn't have to look the victims in the face - they were numbers with commas and zeroes. They were an abstract, a placeholder, a bar graph and he generally never knew their names or faces.

He'd looked Harper in the eyes time after time before today and no amount of looking away could make him forget what was going to happen to her.

Stanley redialed Agent Rivers' number again and it went to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message.

17.

Deena and Avi got on the train at the last second. She watched the people board with their luggage and briefcases and she tried to scan for anyone that might be pursuing them. There were men in suits, families in flip-flops and women with flowery cheap mu-mus. Well, there weren't that many in mu-mus. She supposed each of those people could be a killer with a pistol concealed under their clothes. None of them did anything unusual. She watched Avi. He was much better at being discreet in his observations. She tilted her head, tried to use her sungla.s.ses to hide her eyes as she scanned, but she was sure she gave herself away.

"Ma'am, please find your seat," a man in a navy blue uniform said.

She nodded and stumbled toward the seating. She saw Avi already at the other end of the car and she moved to join him. On the way, she pa.s.sed person after person and imagined each of them staring at her-some actually were-and believed they might all be working to keep her disoriented and alone. There was a man in his early thirties with headphones lodged in his ears sitting near Avi. He gave her a glance and then looked away. He might be here to kill me, Deena thought. She wasn't sure if she was being paranoid or crazy, but she looked him over and decided she could take him out, no matter who he was. She wondered for a moment where that thought had come from. Was there a time in her recent past when that was a logical thought? Had she always been that alert, that paranoid before? Was that what made her good at what she did? And would that instinct ever come back in full force? She kind of hoped it wouldn't.

She sat down next to Avi as the train began moving. She plopped down and locked her seat belt, pulling the strap tight and then hugged the bag from the coffee shop that held all her possessions. She'd most likely never get back to her own apartment. All of her clothes were there, all the souvenirs that she'd acquired from her travels, her wide-screen TV, stereo. It was all gone as of a few short hours ago. She would be an entirely new person with all new c.r.a.p. And right now, it was all in a cheap plastic bag from a coffee shop where Kevin had made her heavenly, minty cups of awesome.

"I want to turn my phone back on," she said.

"No."

"What if Harper is trying to call me? Or Marsh?"

"They aren't. He wouldn't alter the conditions. He wants you back. And you know he doesn't like s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around during a job. He wants what he wants and he wants it on his terms," Avi said. "Any calls at this point would be to mess with you and try to get you off your game."

I'm already way off my game, thanks. No need to help me there. Deena looked down at the mark on her arm. It wasn't in the form of a fancy design or the familiar smiley face. It was just a dark blob, dormant on her arm, just as it had been since the airplane. There was magic in there somewhere, or there had been, but was it still swimming in her blood, ready for a fight? It wouldn't be so bad if she were just a normal girl without the Shadow Energy flowing through her. It would suck if she were a teenager all over again, though. That wouldn't be good at all. Deena threw herself back on the seat and wiggled around in an effort to get comfortable, but she couldn't do it.

"You want to settle down a bit and not draw attention to yourself? Jesus," Avi said. "You wanted to ride the train back, we're riding the train back. Just stop acting like an idiot, please." He shook his head and pulled out a crossword book he'd picked up at the train station. "I swear, it's like traveling with Rain Man."

"Nice, current reference there."

Avi looked her up and down. "You'll think it's funny when you're older."

"Doubt it."

18.

Deena at 16 the first time around "Are you giving my sister s.h.i.t?" Deena asked as she pushed Mike Fischer. "You think you're cool or something, treating her like that?" Even Deena had trouble remembering what had set her off, just that she'd run up and started shoving Mike at the bus stop outside the school.

"Jesus Dot, leave him alone." Deena didn't react, so Harper grabbed her. "Knock it off."

A small crowd had already gathered around, and Deena knew they wanted to see a fight. The bus stop was always a popular place for settling scores after school. Deena had actually been in the center of that crowd more than once, getting into it with another girl for one reason or another. But never with a boy.

"Not until he tells you he's sorry," Deena said.

Harper pulled on Deena's arm harder. "Sorry for what?"

"Your little sister is nuts," Mike said as he turned to leave with some of his football buddies. "You better get her on the bus before I mess her up."

Deena broke free from Harper's grasp and yelled at Mike as she started toward him. "Where you goin', you wuss?"

Harper ran after her sister as Mike turned. "What? You don't want to fight for real, do you?" His friends backed away to give him room.

Deena wasn't afraid of what Mike would do. Mike had a temper, and, as a football player, worked out every day with the team. Plus he had nearly a hundred pounds on her. Still, nothing in Deena made her at all concerned about the stupid jock's fighting skills. She could, however, see fear in her sister's eyes. It was obvious Harper was worried Deena would make her look stupid in front of the whole school.

Deena stopped just a couple of feet from Mike. "Sure. A real fight sounds like fun."

Mike laughed at her, as did the crowd behind him. As he turned to look at his friends, Deena hit him hard in the stomach. He grimaced and bent at the waist, clutching his midsection. She hit him again, quickly, this time square in the jaw. He fell to the ground with an astonished look on his face. Harper reached out and grabbed Deena's arm. "Jesus, what the h.e.l.l?" They both watched a dot of blood roll down Mike's chin. "Let's go," Harper said.

"Not yet," Deena replied. Somewhere deep inside, she enjoyed the fight and didn't want to walk away. There was a buzz in her brain that was feeding off the confrontation. "Tell her what you did, a.s.shole." She looked at Mike.

Mike stared up and Harper watched the expression on his face change to determination. "f.u.c.k you." He stood up and took off his jacket, handing it to one of his football buddies. "I was going to let your mouthing off go, since you're Harper's sister, but f.u.c.k that." He raised his arms, hands turning to fists. "I'll hit a chick when I..."

His words were interrupted as Deena closed the gap between them and hit his jaw with unexpected ferocity. He gave a startled yelp and stumbled backward. Deena stayed with him landing another punch on his arm, one in his gut. She could feel something guiding her punches and making her continue.

Mike flailed, half punching, half grabbing. None of his blows landed, but he managed to catch Deena's shirt and held on. As she attempted to hit him again, Mike stumbled back, taking her with him. He used his momentary advantage and strength to whip the girl away from him.

"f.u.c.k, what the h.e.l.l is going on here?" Harper asked. She stepped to Mike's side looking at the blood on his chin. It was obvious that she wasn't quite sure Mike was going to come out on top. "Let's just go," she told him. "Let's stop this."

Mike shoved Harper away, knocking her to the ground. "Get away," he said.

Deena looked at Harper, sitting on the ground. Her whole body suddenly felt like concrete was flowing through her bloodstream. "Bad idea, jacka.s.s. Bad idea," she said. She stepped toward Mike, both hands flexing to make them feel less stiff.

"f.u.c.k you." Mike's voice sounded unstable and wobbly. Deena wondered if he might be on the verge of crying.

Mike stepped quickly toward Deena, his first punch going just past her head. Deena let his momentum carry him past her and planted her elbow in his back. He cried out again and turned to face her, just in time for Deena to punch him directly on the nose. He stumbled back and fell, blood started to drip from his nostrils and then the drip became a flood. His legs went limp and Deena was thrilled that everyone in the crowd got to watch him fall on his b.u.t.t.

"What the fu..." Again he didn't get to finish his sentence before Deena was on him, knocking him on his back. He put his hands up to block the blows, but it didn't help, Deena punched around them. She landed punch after punch on his face, ears and throat.

"Just tell her the truth you f.u.c.king d.i.c.kbag," Deena yelled over Mike's screams.

It was like a dream to Deena; something that she was watching without the ability to control.

Harper grabbed Deena's right forearm as she prepared for the next blow. "Deena. Look," she said quietly between clenched teeth.

Deena didn't turn immediately. She struggled a little to free her arm then followed her sister's gaze. Deena's knuckles and right hand had turned dark, it was obvious even through the rusty hue of Mike's blood.

When Harper looked to Mike, he was moaning. His face was cut to ribbons, part of his earlobe was lying on the ground next to him. "Christ Deena..." Harper said. "What the f.u.c.k? What did you do?"

Deena shrugged off Harper's grip, stepped up to Mike and kicked him in the ribs. "Tell her now." Her voice was strained with anger.

Mike's only response was a wet gurgle. Deena wondered how badly she had hurt him. She kept looking at her arm. It looked like someone had painted it black with a Sharpie.

Harper grabbed Deena again, this time forcing Deena to look her in the eye. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it later. We really should just go."

Deena's eyes narrowed. "He f.u.c.ked Heidi Connors after the game on Friday." The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. "Right in the parking lot. Then he came and picked you up from work and took you out bowling or some s.h.i.t, didn't he?" Deena thought she might kick Mike again.

The color drained from Harper's face, but it was hard to tell if it was because of the news or the sight of Mike's beaten and battered form on the ground. "Let's just go. Let's just go home," Harper said. She turned and pushed her way through the stunned crowd.

Deena looked at Mike again. "a.s.shole." She followed her sister through the crowd and wiped her hands on her pants. No one said a word and no one tried to stop her. The darkness on her arm faded slowly.

Two days later, Mike died in the hospital and Deena convinced Harper to run away with her.