“You can?”
“Yes! For days now.”
The emotional panic of my vision mixed with my own frustration. “Why are you only telling me now?” I snapped.
Jane softened. “Because I thought if I told you, you’d want me around here less. I mean, what guy wants a homicidal girlfriend, right?”
“I. . .” I couldn’t find the words, which only frustrated me further. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jane. I mean, I’ve dated girls with far more homicidal tendencies than you.”
“Really?” she said, cheering up a little.
“Really,” I said, calming down. I could do this. I could separate my emotions from the feedback loop of my psychometry. “You wouldn’t be the first. If I had a dime for every time a woman wanted me dead, well. . . I don’t think I can count that high, frankly.”
She smiled at that. “Just promise me you’ll think about the bigger picture if I. . . change,” she said.
“I will,” I said. “I’ll think about the bigger picture, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to kill you if it comes to it. It just means I’ll come up with something.”
“Ever the optimist,” she said and hugged me.
She wrapped her arms tight around me, and despite the fact that it felt good, it took all of my nerves right then to fight off the unbidden image rising up of her crushing me until I was lifeless in her arms.
26
I had walked through the theater at the back of the Lovecraft Café countless times by this point, but it was rare these days to actually stay in it longer than it took me to get down the aisle and key into the hidden door that led to the Department of Extraordinary Affairs. Several days later, however, I found myself sitting in one of the theater seats, taking in the newly cleaned-up, zombie-free beauty of the place. Gilded fleur-de-lis decorated the walls and an ornate old-world chandelier hung high above. It was really quite beautiful now that I had stopped to take it all in, more so than I had in the past. Jane sat on my left, wrapped up in the ending of Fright Night, while Trent looked around nervously sitting on my right.
“So, this was your genius idea?” I asked him. “Hanging out, watching movies? Great master plan, Trent.”
“Hey,” he said. “At least you’re getting paid. I’m not even getting a snack or anything out of this.”
“Funny,” I said. “I thought payment enough for you would be not sitting in a holding cell.”
“I’m the victim here,” he said earnestly. “I told you. I had no idea that what they were up to was so sinister.”
“We’ll see,” I said. “Depending on how helpful this is, it may go a long way to getting you back to school instead of prison.”
“Shush,” Jane said, not looking away from the movie.
I lowered my voice and leaned in toward Trent. “You sure they’ll come?”
He nodded. “Oh, they’ll come, all right,” he said. “Trust me. They won’t be able to resist the movie lineup I’ve put the word out about. A horror film festival? It’s going to be impossible for them to pass up.”
Connor sat several rows in front of us and turned to look back at me. “How do we know they’ve even heard about it?”
“We put up ads everywhere,” I said. “Online, even on campus. In the old days I would have gotten a Shadower team to do it, but in the spirit of economy the Inspectre hung every flyer up himself. Jane even chipped in, in her own way. She told the computers to help spread the news of the film festival.”
“Really?” Connor asked, a fixed look of skepticism on his face.
I shrugged. “Something like that,” I said. “I’m out of my element there. You’ll have to ask the technomancer.”
The credits were rolling now and Jane was finally able to take her attention away from the screen. She nodded. “It was easy peasy,” she said. “Even without my power, I could have done it.”
“Awesome,” Trent said, agitated. “Can I at least get a popcorn or something?” He leaned forward, looking over at Jane. “Is he a cheap date? He is, isn’t he?”
“Don’t get fresh,” I said, pushing him back into his seat. “I’m not going to get you a popcorn. This isn’t a date.”
Trent looked at me, horrified. “You’re so not my type.”
“What?” I asked him. “Not evil enough for you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Just the wrong set of chromosomes. Sorry.” He turned and looked off into the darkened theater. “What if they notice me?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ve got the situation under control.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Like when you tried to capture them last time? No offense, Mr. Canderous, but I take very little comfort in that.”
“No,” I said. “This time we’ll get them. Your friends know more about the reborn professor than they let on about, maybe even the water woman. Look at it this way—at least you’re not tied up this time. That’s an improvement for you already.”
Trent looked around the half-full theater. “What about the rest of these people?” he asked.
“We shut down the theater for the day,” I said, “and filled it with any available agent we could spare.”
“It’s far emptier than I’d like it to be right now,” Jane said.
“Elyse is so going to catch on to this plan,” Trent said. “She’s going to sniff them out before they even sit down. She’s smart like that.”
“Don’t worry about your old friends,” I said. “Right now, you should be more worried about all of us in here.”
“Great,” he said, but sounded unconvinced.
“Fine. If you want to worry about something, worry about your pals not showing up. If they don’t, there’s going to be trouble for you.”
“I’m with Simon on this one,” Jane said. “I don’t think they’re going to show. Why would they come out for this at all when they can just watch them on television?”
“It’s not quite the same,” Trent said.
“Exactly,” Connor said from a few rows ahead of us. “Movies were meant for the big screen . . .”
I shushed him as the coffeehouse curtain opened and Trent’s three friends walked in. Jane, Trent, and I sank lower into our seats, doing our best to keep unnoticed, hopefully so we could get the drop on them once they settled in.
The three students were still in the clothes they had escaped in the other day. Elyse wore her hair pulled back in a short ponytail, but Mike and Darryl both looked like they hadn’t showered. I could have been wrong, though. Maybe bedhead was all the rage at NYU right now. Mike looked like he was trying to pick the best seat in the house, which made sense considering the fact that he was always carrying a camera on him and probably planned to bootleg the film. He found what he considered to be at least a passable viewing spot, and then started into the row before Elyse and Darryl did. “Hurry,” he whispered. “The credits are already rolling.”
“So what?” Darryl asked, ducking down as they worked their way across the aisle.
“It’s the best part!” Mike said, practically spilling his drink as he tripped over something.
“Shh!” Elyse said, and sat down once Mike stopped.
As they finished settling in, the new film began and the screen filled with a shot of a graveyard. It reminded me of Good Mourning: How to Tell a Funeral Party from a Zombie Horde, the short training film I had been shown during my initiation into the Department.
Jane grabbed my arm. I turned to her. She looked worried. “This film is clean, right?” she asked. “I don’t want to have a repeat of Mason Redfield’s resurrection.”
“Looks like we’re going to find out, I guess,” I said.
Trent leaned forward in his seat, staring ahead at his old friends. “I don’t believe it,” Trent whispered. “Is Mike. . . bootlegging this?”
“Oh,” I whispered, “is that where you draw your criminal line now?”
“Stop bickering and get ready,” Jane said, standing up. Connor was already up, right behind the group of them, and had his hands on the back of Elyse’s seat.
“On behalf of this theater’s management,” Connor said with some volume behind it, “you’re under arrest. . . mostly for being dicks and attacking us the other day.”