Legacies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,38

Right now she had what he called “the perks”—sharper senses, faster reflexes, being just a little stronger than somebody else her age.

And one of the advantages of that was it made it easier to sneak around.

The gym had started to fill up right around eight. The dance was going to run from eight to midnight, and the Dance Committee had been fighting in their chatroom for weeks over the playlist (which they did every dance), but they’d finally locked it down, and now the songs they’d picked were blasting out through the monster speakers in the corners of the ceiling.

There were tables along the walls with soda, and candy apples, and cupcakes, and enough sweets and junk food—chips and pretzels and soda and candy—to send everybody in the entire school into a white-sugar-coma. Everybody always rushed the snack tables during the first hour of a dance, but Camilla didn’t bother; she knew better. When Oakhurst relaxed the junk food ban, it didn’t do it by halves. The only rule was that you couldn’t take anything back to your room for later, but the tables would be full all evening.

She slipped out the side door of the gym, flicking a glance at her watch. Eight-thirty. Perfect. Nick would wait ten minutes and follow her out so nobody saw them sneak out together, and they could probably have at least twenty minutes out here together before somebody came looking. She knew the teachers practically patrolled the grounds during the dances.

But this was too good a chance to pass up.

She ducked around the corner of the gym, into the shadows, and dug into her vest pocket. The vest was patchwork velvet, the pieces stitched together in metallic thread, and it was the prettiest thing she owned. She’d added the inside pocket herself. She’d always been handy with a needle and thread.

She pulled out the half-empty pack of cigarettes and the lighter, fumbled a cigarette into her mouth, and lit it. She took a cautious drag, and coughed slightly. She wasn’t used to smoking anymore. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking at all (Hello? Sixteen?) but she’d always used to back home. When she’d come here she’d had to go cold turkey until she’d hooked up with Seth Morris and started swapping her weekly soda ration for cigarettes. She didn’t really crave them by that point, but they were kind of a link with home. The good parts. Now that Seth was gone, it looked like she’d be giving up smoking again—for good this time. This was her last pack.

She took another drag on her cigarette—and then nearly strangled as she heard a noise coming from the direction of the Sunken Garden. For a few seconds she was scrambling to figure out whether to throw the cigarette away, swallow it, or just try not to cough herself to death. Then she blew out a mouthful of smoke on a shaky silent laugh. She could hear them, but whoever was making the noise was too far away to even see her.

Camilla frowned as the sounds continued. But what was it? It sounded like leaves rustling, and it couldn’t be—the only things that were still green this time of year were the pine trees, and they didn’t make sounds like that. Plus, it was a little early for any of the make-out artists to have snuck away from the gym—and if they did, they’d pick someplace warmer. Like the Greenhouse, or the swimming pool, or even the train station.

And those noises didn’t sound . . . right. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. They just didn’t.

She carefully ground her cigarette out and picked up the remains, tucking it into her pack and tucking her pack into her vest. Best not to leave any evidence. Then she trotted off to investigate. She had a good five minutes before Nick showed up. He’d wait for her.

Every time Camilla stopped to listen, the noises stopped just a beat later. Scuffling. Giggling. It didn’t sound like any of the kids from here, and she wondered if some of the townies from Radial had decided to play a Halloween prank on the school. She passed the Sunken Garden. The noises weren’t coming from there. Maybe the train station?

If they’d just keep making noise when she stopped to listen, she’d know where they were. And then they’d see who gave who the fright of their life!

Camilla was standing on the railroad tracks, wondering how she’d come so far without realizing