Night World - Dark Angel Part 9

She's brave. When that window-"

"Quit it, Gillian. You're those things. You're brave and funny and-well, to o honorable for your own good. You tried to give Tanya another chance." He let out a breath. "But, anyway; you might have guessed, we're finished. I t old Tanya that. And now . . ." His voice changed. Suddenly he laughed, soun ding as if some burden had fallen off him. "Well, would you like me to driv e you to the party Sat.u.r.day night?"

Gillian laughed, too. "I'd like it. I'd love it." (Oh, Angel-thank you!) She was very happy.

The rest of the week was wonderful. Every day she wore something daring and flattering scavenged from the depths of her closet. Every day she seemed t o get more popular. People looked up when she walked into a room, not just meeting her eyes, but trying to catch her eye. They waved to her from a distance. They said h.e.l.lo up and down the halls. Everyone seemed glad to talk to her, and pleased if she wanted to talk to them. It was like being on a s kyrocket, going higher and higher.

And, always, her guide and protector was with her. Angel had come to seem l ike a part of her, the most savvy and ingenious part. He provided quips, sm oothed over awkward situations, gave advice about who to tolerate and who t o snub. Gillian was developing an instinct for this, too. She was gaining c onfidence in herself, finding new skills every day. She was literally becom ing a new person.

She didn't see much of Amy now. But Amy had Eugene, after all. And Gillia n was so busy that she never even got to see David alone.

The day of the party she went to Houghton with Amanda the Cheerleader and Steffi the Singer. They laughed a lot, got whistled at everywhere, and sho pped until they were dizzy. Gillian bought a dress and ankle boots-both ap proved by Angel.

When David picked her up that night, he let out a soft whistle himself.

"I look okay?"

"You look . . ." He shook his head. "Illegal, but also sort of spiritual. How d o you do that?"

Gillian smiled.

Macon the Wallet's house was the house of a rich guy. A fleet of artsy reinde er made out of some kind of white twigs and glowing with tiny lights graced t he lawn. Inside, it was all high ceilings and track lighting, oriental rugs, old china, silver. Gillian was dazzled.

(My first real party! I mean, my first Popular Party. And it's even kind of, so rt of for me.) (Your first real party, and it's all for you. The world is your oyster, kid. Go o ut and crack it.) Macon was coming toward her. Other people were looking. Gillian paused in the doorway of the room for effect, aware that she was making an entranc e-and loving it.

Her outfit was designer casual. A black minidress with a pattern of purple f lowers so dark it could hardly be distinguished. The soft, crepey material d ung to her like a second skin. Matte black tights. And of course the ankle b oots. Not much makeup; she'd decided on the fresh, soft look for her face. S he'd darkened her lashes just enough to make the violet of her eyes a startl ing contrast.

She looked stunning . . . and effortless. And she knew it very well.

Macon's hooded eyes roved over her with something like suppressed hunger.

"How's it going? You're looking good."

"We feel good," Gillian said, squeezing David's arm.

Macon's eyes darkened. He looked at the intersection of Gillian's hand and David's arm as if it offended him.

David looked back dispa.s.sionately, but a sort of wordless menace exuded f rom him. Macon actually took a step back. But all he said was, "Well, my parents are gone for the weekend, so make yourself at home. There should be food somewhere."

There was food everywhere. Every kind of munchy thing. Music blasted from the den, echoing all over the house. As they walked in, Cory greeted them with, "Hey, guys! Grab a gla.s.s, it's going fast."

When he'd said that he would round up a keg last week, Gillian had foolish ly misheard it as "a cake." Now she understood. It was a keg of beer and e verybody was drinking.

And not just beer. There were hard liquor bottles around. One guy was lying on a table with his mouth open while a girl poured something from a rectangu lar bottle into it.

"Hey, Jill, this is for you." Cory was trying to give her a plastic gla.s.s with foam overflowing the top.

Gillian looked at him with open scorn. She didn't need Angel's help for this.

"Thanks, but I happen to like my brain cells, Maybe if you had more respect for yours you wouldn't be flunking biology."

There was laughter. Even Cory laughed and winced.

"Right on," Daryl the Rich Girl said, raising a can of diet Barq's root beer to Gillian in salute. And David waved Cory away and reached for a c.o.ke.

n.o.body tried to pressure them and the guy on the table even looked a littl e embarra.s.sed. Gillian had learned that you could pull anything off if you were cool enough, composed enough, and if you didn't back down. The feeli ng of success was much more intoxicating than liquor could have been.

(How about that? Pretty good, huh? Huh? Huh?) (Oh ... oh, yeah, fine.) Angel seemed to deliberate. (Of course, it does say, "Wine maketh the heart of man glad. . . .") (Oh, Angel, you're so silly. You sound like Cory!) Gillian almost laughed ou t loud.

Everything was exciting. The music, the huge house with its opulent Christm as decorations. The people. All the girls threw their arms around Gillian a nd kissed her as if they hadn't seen her in weeks. Some of the boys tried, but David warned them off with a look.

That was exciting, too. Having everyone know she was together with David Bl ackburn, that he was hers. It put her status through the ceiling.

"Want to look around?" David was saying. "I can show you the upstairs; Mac on doesn't care."

Gillian looked at him. "Bored?"

He grinned. "No. But I wouldn't mind seeing you alone for a few minutes."They went up a long carpeted staircase lined with oil paintings. The rooms up stairs were just as beautiful as downstairs: palatial and almost awe inspirin g.

It put Gillian in a quiet mood. The music wasn't as loud up here, and the co ol marble gave her the feeling of being in a museum.

She looked out a window to see velvet darkness punctuated by little twinklin g lights.

"You know, I'm glad you didn't want to drink back there." David's voice beh ind her was quiet.

She turned, trying to read his face. "But . . . you were surprised?"

"Well-it's just sometimes now you seem so adult. Sort of worldly."

"Me? I mean-I mean you're the one who seems like that." And that's what you like in girls, she thought.

He looked away and laughed. "Oh, yeah. The tough guy. The wild guy. Tanya and I used to party pretty hard." He shrugged. "I'm not tough. I'm just a small- town guy trying to get through life. I don't look for trouble. I try to run f rom it if I can."

Gillian had to laugh herself at that. But there was something serious in Davi d's dark eyes.

"I admit, it sort of had a way of finding me in the past," he said slowly. "And I've done some things that I'm not proud of. But, you know ... I'd like to cha nge that-if it's possible."

"Sort of like a whole new side of you that wants to come out."

He looked startled. Then he glanced up and down her and grinned. "Yeah. Sor t of like that."

Gillian felt suddenly inspired, hopeful. "I think," she said slowly, trying t o put her ideas together, "that sometimes people need to-to express both side s of themselves. And then they can be ... well, whole."

"Yeah. If that's possible." He hesitated. Gillian didn't say anything, because she had the feeling that he was trying to. That there was some reason he'd br ought her up to talk to her alone.

"Well. You know something weird?" he said after a moment. "I don't feel exac tly whole. And the truth is-" He looked around the darkened room. Gillian co uld only see his profile. He shook his head, then took a deep breath. "Okay, this is going to sound even dumber than I thought, but I've got to say it.

I can't help it."

He turned back, toward her and said with a mixture of determination and apol ogy, "And since that day when I found you out there in the snow, I have this feeling that I won't be, without ..." He trailed off and shrugged. "Well-yo u," he said finally, helplessly.

The universe was one enormous heartbeat. Gillian could feel her body echoing it. She said slowly, "I ...""I know. I know how it sounds. I'm sorry."

"No," Gillian whispered. "That wasn't what I was going to say."

He'd turned sharply away to glare at the window. Now he turned halfway ba ck and she saw the glimmer of hope in his face.

"I was going to say, I understand."

He looked as if he were afraid to believe. "Yeah, but do you really?"

"I think I do-really."

And then he was moving toward her and Gillian was holding up her arms. Litera lly as if drawn to do it-but not just by "physical attraction. It sounded cra zy, Gillian thought, but it wasn't physical so much as ... well, spiritual. T hey seemed to belong together.

David was holding her. It felt incredibly strange and at the same time perfe ctly natural. He was warm and solid and Gillian felt her eyes shutting, her head drifting to his shoulder. Such a simple embrace, but it seemed to mean everything.

The feelings inside Gillian were like a wonderful discovery. And she had th e sense that she was on the verge of some other discovery, that if she just opened her eyes and looked into David's at this moment, somehow it would m ean a change in the world. . . .

(Kid?) The voice in Gillian's ear was quiet. (I really hate to say it, but I h ave to break this up. You have to sidle down to the master bedroom.) Gillian scarcely heard and couldn't pay attention.

(Gillian! I mean it, kid. There's something going on that you have to know a bout.) (Angel?) (Tell him you'll be back in a few minutes. This is important!) There was no way to ignore that tone of urgency. Gillian stirred. "David, I h ave to go for a sec. Be right back."

David just nodded. "Sure." It was Gillian who had trouble letting go of his h and, and when she did she still seemed to feel his grip.

(This had better be good, Angel.) She blinked in the light of the hallway.

(Go down to the end of the hall. That's the master bedroom. Go on in. Don't t urn on the light.) The master bedroom was cavernous and dark and filled with large dim shapes like sleeping elephants. Gillian walked in and immediately banged into a piece of heavy furniture.

(Be careful! See that light over there?) Light was showing around the edges of double doors on the other side of th e room. The doors were closed.

(And locked. That's the bathroom. Now, here's what I want you to do. Walk car efully over to the right of the bathroom and you'll find another door. It's t he closet. I want you to quietly open that door and get in it.)(What?) Angel's voice was elaborately patient. (Get in the closet and put your ear aga inst the wall.) Gillian shut her eyes. Then, feeling exactly like a burglar, she slowly turned the handle of the closet door and slipped inside.

It was a walk-in closet, very long but stuffy because of the clothes bristli ng from both sides. Gillian had a profound feeling of intrusion, of being an invader of privacy. She seemed to walk a long way in before Angel stopped h er.

(Okay. Here. Now put your ear against the left wall.) Eyes still shut-it seemed to make the absolute darkness more bearable-Gill ian burrowed between something long sheathed in plastic and something heav y and velvety. With the clothes embracing her on either side, she leaned h er head until her bare ear touched wood.

(Angel, I can't believe I'm doing this. I feel really stupid, and I'm scared, a nd if anybody finds me-) (Just listen, will you?) At first Gillian's heart seemed to drown out all other sounds* But then, fain t but clear, she heard two voices she recognized.

CHAPTER 10.

"But only if you absolutely swear to me you didn't do it."

"Oh, how many times? I've been telling you all week I didn't. I never said a word to her. I swear."

The first voice, which sounded taut and a little unbalanced, was Tanya's.

The second was Kim the Gymnast's. Despite her brave words, Kim sounded s cared.

(Angel? What's going on?) (Trouble.) "Okay," Tanya's voice was saying. "Then this is your chance to prove it by helping me."

"Tan, look. Look. I'm sorry about you and David breaking up. But maybe it's not Gillian's fault-"

"It's completely her fault. The stuff with Bruce was over. You know that. T here was no reason for David to ever find out-until she opened her mouth. A nd as for how she found out-"

"Not again!" Kim the Gymnast sounded ready to scream. "I didn't do it."

"All right. I believe you." Tanya's voice was calmer. "So in that case there 's no reason for us to fight. We've got to stick together. Hand me that brus h, will you?" There was silence for a moment, and Gillian could imagine Tany a brus.h.i.+ng her dark hair to a higher gloss, looking in a mirror approvingly.

"So what are you going to do?" Kim's voice asked."Get both of them. In a way, I hate him more. I promised he'd be sorry if he dumped me, and I always keep my promises."

Squashed between the heavy, swaying clothes on her right and left, Gillian h ad a wild and almost fatal impulse to giggle.

She knew what was going on. It was just such a ... a sitcom situation that sh e had a hard time making herself believe in it. Here she was, listening to tw o people who were actually plotting against her. She was overhearing their pl ans to get her. It was . . . absurd. Bad mystery novel stuff.

And it was happening anyway.

She made a feeble attempt to get back to reality, straightening up slightly.

(Angel-people don't really do these revenge things. Right? They're just talking.

And-I mean, I can't even believe I'm hearing all this. It's so ... so ridiculou s . . .) (You're overhearing it because I brought you here. You have an invisible fri end who can lead you to the right place at the right time. And you'd better believe that people carry out these "revenge things." Tanya's never made a p lan that she hasn't carried through.) (The future executive.) Gillian thought it faintly.

(Future CEO. She's deadly serious, kid. And she's smart. She can make thin gs happen.) Gillian no longer felt like giggling.

When she pressed her ear against the wall again, it was clear she'd missed s ome of the conversation.

"... David first?" Kim the Gymnast was saying.

"Because I know what to do with him. He wants to get into Ohio University, you know? He sent the application in October. It was already going to be a little hard because his grades aren't great, but he scored really high on t he SATs. It was hard, but I'm going to make it . . ." There was a pause and Tanya's voice seemed to mellow and sweeten. "Absolutely impossible."

"How?" Kim sounded shaken.

"By writing to the university. And to our princ.i.p.al and to Ms. Renquist, the English lit teacher, and to David's grandpa, who's supposed to be giving hi m money to go to college."

"But why? I mean, if you say something nasty, they'll just think it's sour gra pes-"

"I'm going to tell them he pa.s.sed English lit last year by cheating. We had to turn in a term paper. But he didn't write the pa per he turned in. It was bought. From a college guy in Philadelphia."

Kim's breath whooshed out so loudly that Gillian could hear it. "How do y ou know?"

"Because I arranged it, of course. I wanted him to bring his grades up, to ge t into a university. To make something of himself. But of course he can never prove all that. He's the one that paid for it."