Chapter 21

-Aisha-

I hadn't really noticed that the redheaded psycho wasn't in school almost the entire week until I passed her in the hallway on Friday. If it weren't for the whispers drawing my attention, I might not have even noticed her. The girl looked like she hadn't slept since I last saw her, and her hair and makeup looked like she hadn't really been paying attention to what she was doing in the morning. Most of her clique was simply standing back and watching, while she shuffled to class. I headed towards my own classroom, wondering. What the hell's up with her?

I got my answer when I tracked her to one of the bathrooms during the second half of lunch break. The other bitch (I was still wondering why Rachel had picked a nickname that would bunch her together with these kinds of people) was… trying to calm her down? What?

"...better than this," Hess said. "Even if she has powers now, it's not like she'd have grown a spine."

Are they talking about who I think they're talking about?

"She doesn't need a spine when she can just… just… I'd never see her coming!"

Heh, they totally are. I chuckled, safe in the knowledge neither of them could hear me. Though… damn, if I was tall, white and wavy-haired I could have so much fun with her.

"Come on, it's been two weeks and she hasn't done anything, like the wimp she always was. Nothing is going to happen to you now. You survived worse," the track star said, almost… pleadingly? Huh.

Redhead didn't answer for almost a minute, but eventually washed her face off and mutely stood up to head to her next class. I left towards my own. Halfway there, the thought hit me.

Wait. How did they find out Taylor has powers?

I was kinda bummed that I couldn't chase after Red and… Nope, that nickname is out too; calling the other one Black just feels weird.

Hmmm… could call the two of them Team Checkers, maybe? Pretty sure I heard Mrs Jones rambling on about someone having a 'checkered past' in that... book… the one I never read. Not that that narrows it down. What was it call—

Oh, who the fuck cares?

The point was, I didn't have time to follow them home because I already had a stalking-date with… ummm… did Mike call him James when they talked about buying drugs from their 'guy'? Whatever, I thought as I hauled ass to catch up to him and pointed at him from across the parking lot. "I hereby dub thee Grease Stain the Unwashed!" Heh. Maybe Taylor had a point about the silly-talk, saying things like that was funny, even if I couldn't do the old lady fortune-teller voice thing quite right. Not that it matters. "No one can hear me!" The girl whose ear I just shouted in on my way put a hand to her ear and rubbed it but didn't even look over towards me.

Cackling like a demonic loon the rest of the way, I only barely caught up to him before he crossed the street in front of Winslow. I'd almost learned the hard way the first time that I shouldn't cross on my own with my powers active. Even if I didn't even know I had powers back then. Not doing that again any time soon. I liked eating pancakes, but I didn't want to be one.

I walked along beside Mr. Stain, letting him tell the various soccer moms picking up their kids that 'hey, we're walking here' and 'please don't run us over'. Fortunately, there was enough wind that as long as I stayed to his left I didn't have to smell him.

I groaned as he walked over to the bus stop and sat down. Why can't the druggies I follow to their dealers ever be cute? Or at least clean? Then I could just sit in their laps instead of having to drop my power so I don't get sat on.

Although that guy didn't work out, Greasestain the Fourth was the jackpot. I survived the bus trip with only a little squishing and followed Stain to a dealer hanging out in a long-abandoned block of flats. The smarmy asshole looked like he was smart enough not to use his own product, at least, but I still had to hang near him for the better part of an hour while customers came and went. He finally sold off all the stuff he had on him, and moved out. I followed for half a block or so and saw him get in a rickety old car. Crime doesn't pay all that well, huh?

I managed to get in the car while he was fiddling with the ignition, and he looked at the door suspiciously when it slammed. He got out, opened and closed it a few times, muttered something about "worthless piece of junk" and slammed the door closed again. We then drove off into the city like the world's weirdest "Stranger Danger" PSA.

"...Awww, damn!" I snapped my fingers. "That's what I forgot!" Patting my driver on the shoulder, I tried my best to sound apologetic. "Sorry, Jeeves, I'm all out of candy to offer you." He didn't react beyond brushing his shoulder.

Hmmm… Now I really am sad, I could kinda go for a Twix right now. Or maybe a pack of gushers? Or some Skittles...

Even with my mounting disappointment over the emptiness of my pockets, the warehouse wasn't a particularly long ride away, though it did take me out of familiar territory. I got out of the car, provoking another string of complaints from my chauffeur, and slipped through the door with him once he provided a password to the guy on the other side. After all, I don't think they'd have ever let me in even if I had said "White Aryan Women" at the door - and who the hell comes up with these passwords? The inside of a warehouse looked like, well, a warehouse, with five skinheads drinking and playing cards on a table and one guarding the door. I followed the dealer to a back room, where he pulled a book off a nearby table and opened it to get a key from a compartment inside. I snorted. Because there's no way a book can look suspicious in a drug den, am I right?

Either way, he unlocked the safe and put his sales money in it. I saw a bit of cash and a lot of drugs. Guess I'll have to tell the team to wait a bit so that there's more money in here. He locked the safe, "hid" the key again, and, to my disappointment, sat down at the card table instead of leaving so I could slip through the door with him.

I was carefully considering my options, trying to decide whose beer to knock over so they'd have to go clean up, when I recognized that bastard who'd accosted me twice as one of the goons playing. I walked up to the table, watching the game go on as I waited for just the right moment. Then, when douche-canoe's turn to deal was up next, I snatched a card off the top of the deck and stuffed it up his sleeve, making sure to leave a bit sticking out. He unconsciously moved to scratch his wrist where the card rubbed it, and one of the other goons saw it.

Once a brawl broke out, the guard at the door ran over to… either break it up or join in, I wasn't sure and didn't care… I left the warehouse through the now-unguarded door and collapsed into a pile of giggles. The sound of a gunshot snapped me out of it.

"Oh, right," I chastised myself. "Still gotta mark this on the map."

Pulling said map out of my pocket, I looked around. Then I sighed, staring at the snapped off remains of what used to be a street sign. I went off in search of landmarks.

Lisa was in the kitchen massaging her temples when I got back to the loft. Probably had something to do with the way Taylor was standing in front of the microwave with her face pressed against the door while it was on. Pretty sure I remember Mom saying that's how you got cancer but… well, it was Mom. Even if she wasn't high at the time, I dunno if it would even apply to Taylor.

The microwave dinged as I walked in, so I decided not to think about it any more. Walking up to the table, I leaned forward so that my face was next to Lisa's ear. "Yo, Tits!" I put on my best grin as she turned to glare at me. "I got us another drug den for your map." I slid my notes over to her and then plopped myself down in the chair next to her as Taylor settled back into hers with her now steaming mug of… uh… is that blood?

Wait, duh, Vampire. Of course it's blood. Note to self: don't drink from the Mouse Protector mug. Ever.

Shaking my head, I decided to add that to list of things I wasn't gonna think about anymore. Instead I let my power kick back on and settled in to watch the show as Lisa took another crack at getting Tay to call her dad.

She got as far as, "You know he already knows you're out there after the fight in the… docks..." before she realized that Taylor wasn't listening. She was just staring off into space with a frown slowly growing across her face.

When waving my hand in front of her eyes didn't get any more of a response than Lisa's blathering, I got up off my chair and moved over to put my face next to hers to try and see what she was staring at so intently. I didn't see anything odd about that patch of ceiling.

I was back in my seat by the time she finally snapped out of it, shaking her head. "The madmen have such strange followers."

"What?" Lisa and I asked in unison. I had to force my power down again so I could share one of those looks with her. We'd had many chances to practice them.

"One of them says hello, by the way." Taylor shrugged.

Next to me, Lisa sighed. "That was quite possibly the closest I've ever heard you get to a straightforward statement and I still have no idea what you just said."

"But it is not my fault!" Taylor pouted us. "The Prince greets us, but his name is spoken for."

"Okay…" Lisa resumed rubbing at her temples. "Does this 'Prince' have anything in particular to tell us? Does he want something?"

Taylor looked thoughtful for a moment. "Entertainment, I'd expect. 'Tis why most of the followers keep watch on the madmen's words of our daring deeds."

"Oh…" Lisa snapped her fingers as she looked my way again. "I think I get it. Did you find another one of those cameras again?"

"I did indeed find another of The Serpent's eyes!" she said, placing a tiny little black thing with wires sticking out of it on the table in front of her. "But neither of him are of the watchers of which I speak."

"Please tell me that one wasn't in my bedroom again." Lisa poked the camera on the table.

"Very well," Taylor nodded. "I shall not tell you any such things."

Lisa's opened and closed her mouth a few times before shaking her head. "I'm… not even going to touch that one. How about you just tell the voices in your head that getting their entertainment from watching teenage girls is fucking creepy and we leave it at that?"

"Ah, but they do know!" Taylor smiled, her head tilted slightly to the side. "It causes a great many pointless arguments among them." Her brow furrowed as a frown crossed her face. "Though not quite as many fights as there'd be if I were the boy."

Lisa and I shared another of the looks. Scratch that, another of The Looks.

"Boy me has… subscriptions." Taylor added, as if that made any more sense. "Though I suppose one could argue that at least he isn't the one who cuts off her own face." She lifted her mug and took a swig. "Blech!" She retched, setting the cup down hard as she climbed to her feet and staggered towards the bathroom. "The microwave is a lie! Its false heat helps not at all with the taste of warm lemonade."

As the door slammed shut and cut off the sound of running water and gargling, I turned back to Lisa. "So… Do you think we're really being watched? Or was that just her way of getting you to stop harping on her about her dad?"

"...Dammit, Taylor!" Some girl stepped out of the bathroom as Lisa's head hit the table.