Read Attack Doll 2: Junior Prime Page 14

Chapter 14

 

  As the light-flash from Angela's teleportation faded, everyone else unblurred themselves. Shelley was still wearing her little black dress, I noticed, but she must have lost her pumps somewhere along the way because she was currently barefoot. She turned to me. "So, what did she say to you that she didn't want us to hear? She was looking pretty down while you were talking to her."

  I took a breath to launch into a detailed translation of our brief conversation (hey, I had warned Angie that I wasn't going to keep any secrets, and I meant it) when Wizzit cut in, "It was nothing of any importance."

  Shelley and I looked at each other in surprise. "O-kay . . ." she said, "I guess that means that he doesn't want you to tell us."

  Wizzit didn't jump in right away to correct her, so after a couple of seconds I shrugged and said, "I guess not. But, like he said, it wasn't anything important. No team secrets or anything."

  Shelley started to say, "Then let's --" when the monster alarm began sounding.

  "What the hell is going on?" Mike exclaimed. "What is it with all these monsters showing up?"

  "Interesting," Wizzit commented. "This sighting is in a remote area of the United States, in the Mojave desert. Nobody around for miles. And it's just one single, small monster -- no Zoinks, no minder."

  "That's . . . odd," said Toby.

  "Identity confirmed," Wizzit announced. "It's JB Swift."

  "And he's by himself?" Mike asked incredulously.

  "That's what I said."

  "I'll go out to meet him," Shelley said grimly.

  Mike put in, "I'll go with you."

  "We'll all go," said Trina.

  "Nope, nothing doing," Wizzit told her. "Just Red and Orange will go. Green, Blue, and Indigo can expect healing comas all around, starting in ninety seconds."

  Trina sighed in frustration and flopped herself down resignedly in one of the easy chairs. There's just no arguing with Wizzit when he tells you he's going to start a healing coma. Toby and I selected chairs on either side of her.

  "Here, Mike," Shelley said, handing him her broadsword. "I don't think I'll be needing this. Why don't you go get . . . " She smiled. ". . . the golf clubs."

  Mike chuckled nastily. I guess he must have been around the last time Enclave had been sending out pint-sized speedsters like JB Swift, back when golf clubs had been the weapons of choice. "Good as done."