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  I want to be as confident as he sounds, but there is no way I can manage it. Part of me is still a little worried, but I can’t deny the pleasure the idea of spending time alone with Ketchup brings me. I am scared of what this trip will reveal, but facing it with Ketchup does seem considerably less daunting.

  Finally, I say, “It was a good birthday present. Thank you.”

  The corner of Ketchup’s mouth turns up, and he pulls me back into his arms. “I told you it was. I’m sure it’s way better than whatever Noah got you.”

  Laughing a little, I shake my head at him. “I didn’t tell Noah it was my birthday,” I say. “Too hard to explain why we don’t celebrate our sixteenth birthdays.”

  Ketchup grins. “Then my present was the best,” he says triumphantly.

  “It’s not hard to be the best when it’s the only one,” I tease. He just ignores me.

  For a long time, we just sit together in the tree, looking up at the stars through the branches. It’s the second time tonight I’ve found myself doing that and, once again, I wonder about my future. Surprisingly, though, my thoughts don’t stay focused on Ketchup or the trip. They switch gears to something else that has been bothering me. Ketchup notices when my lips turn down, and my arms tighten around my body.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you still worried about the trip?”

  I shake my head, and then reconsider. “I am still worried, but that’s not what I was thinking about.”

  Ketchup frowns. “Something else you’re worried about? Is it Noah? Did he say or do something tonight?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “It’s not Noah. I mean, I still think he’s hiding something, but that’s not what I was talking about. I think something weird is going on with Zander. He’s been really preoccupied lately, and he keeps disappearing without telling anyone where he’s going.” I sigh, gnawing at my bottom lip for a few seconds before continuing. “I know I’m going to sound like a broken record, but I think it has something to do with Ivy.”

  “Ivy?” Ketchup questions. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s just something that I can’t seem to get out of my head lately.”

  Ivy’s name is never spoken in our house. Everyone seems content to pretend she never existed. Sometimes, I wish that were true. She threw our world into chaos. If she hadn’t shown up, we’d still be blissfully ignorant about a great many things, which I’m not sure whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing. It’s too late to change it now, either way. Regardless, she brought both the Godlings and Eroi into our lives, and I don’t think she’s done causing trouble yet.

  “What would Zander want with Ivy?” Ketchup asks.

  “I think he wants to find her,” I say slowly.

  “Why?” Ketchup asks. “Is he still in love with her, or is this some kind of misguided attempt at revenge?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t know, but I’m afraid to find out.”

  Chapter Five: Limits

  (Zander)

  Meeting David without Van seems strange. It makes me nervous, to be perfectly honest. Things have been different with David the last week since our conversation in the kitchen. I wouldn’t say he has lightened up on me at all, but there seems to be some level of respect between us now. I still don’t trust him. Tolerating him has become somewhat easier, though.

  I warily eye the restaurant across the street where I am supposed to meet David. I have been on edge since he arranged this. It’s out of the ordinary, and that isn’t like David at all. I reach for the door handle when my phone buzzes. Startled, my hand jumps away from the handle and straight to my phone. I stare at the blocked number with narrowed eyes. This is the third time I’ve gotten this call. I know I should stuff it back in my pocket and not answer, but for some reason, I accept the call and hold the phone to my ear.

  Silence.

  I know it sounds strange, but something about the silence sounds familiar. I listen even when I know I should end the call. Something won’t let me hang up. I realize a moment later that the line isn’t completely silent. I can hear someone breathing. That is what sounds familiar. As if the caller senses my weak recognition, the line goes dead. Shaking my head, I put the phone away and get back to the task at hand.

  The walk up to the restaurant is uncomfortable. Partly, because of the clothes I am wearing. Slacks and ties have never felt right on me. The clothing is more bearable than the unknown. Why David asked me to meet him for dinner has been bothering me all day. I know this won’t be a social meeting. Somehow, the night will become another round of training, but I can’t figure out exactly how.

  Being greeted by a crisp looking maître‘d when I first step through the door only makes me more nervous. If whatever David’s planning doesn’t work out, me losing control in a high-class restaurant will definitely make the news. I say nothing and move carefully as I follow a young woman to David’s table. He is perusing the menu as I approach, as if this meal means little to him. I sit down stiffly.

  “Good evening, Zander.” David’s eyes glance up for a brief second before dropping back to the menu.

  Silence hovers around the table for several minutes before he puts down his menu and takes any real notice of me.

  “You might want to look over the menu if you plan on eating tonight,” David says calmly.

  My eyes narrow. “Why are we here?”

  Never one to play games, David says, “To test your limits.”

  “What limits?”

  “Are you denying that you have limits?” David asks, looking mildly amused.

  My jaw tightens briefly. “Hardly. I want to know what limits, specifically, you plan to test.”

  Sitting back in his chair, David considers me before answering. When he comes to a decision, he says, “Every Godling’s hunger has a particular leaning, you know that. Van craves chaos and mania, while you drink in the slow anticipation of the hunt. Normally, I would commend you for your self-restraint and fastidiousness.”

  “Normally?” I question.

  “Yes, normally.” David leans forward, elbows on the table with his hands pressed together thoughtfully. “Planning, preparation, caution—these will all aid you in life. You will be strong because of these abilities.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” I demand.

  David offers up a condescending smile. “The problem is that not everything goes according to plan.”

  Our conversation is momentarily interrupted when the waitress appears to take our drink orders. David chats amiably for several minutes, while I state my preference and nothing more. I am more wary now than before I walked into the restaurant. For the most part, David has complimented my ability to maintain control as long as I can.

  “I’ve noticed a problem with your combat training,” David says as the waitress hurries away. “Your pattern work is flawless. If I give you a set of moves to perform, you do it with only a rare mistake. The problem comes when you are forced to react to Van’s wild attacks. Because she almost never follows the patterns I have taught her, you are having difficulty beating her.”

  My answering grunt only seems to annoy him. Even though I’m glad Van is progressing, even if not in the way David would like, I hate the fact that she beats me while sparring more often than not. I never know what she’s going to do. I can’t prepare for a random kick or trick move. She reacts immediately, while I am still trying to decide what the appropriate counter should be.

  “When you are out in the world, anything can happen,” David says. “It is very important that you are able to respond quickly and react appropriately. At this point, your ability to do so is very weak. This is the limit I will be testing tonight.”

  I look around the restaurant, slightly confused. “How exactly are you planning to do that?”

  David looks like he wants to roll his eyes at me, but he would never do something so childish. Instead, he pierces me with a withering glare and picks his menu
back up. “Dinner first. Testing after. This is hardly the place to throw you to the wolves.”

  My fingers curl into fists, my frustration reaching its limit. In my head, I know he is toying with me. He just finished telling me that I need to learn how to function without a plan. Not telling me what he has in store for me is my first lesson. I understand that, but it doesn’t help me much. The idea of being tossed into an unfamiliar situation with no warning gnaws at me all through dinner. It gets under my skin as David leads me to our next stop, a nightclub near the University of New Mexico campus.

  As the valet drives away with David’s car, I suddenly have the intense urge to run. The pressure of David’s hand clamping down on my shoulder prevents such thing. I don’t understand what he’s thinking. I mean, he’s basically putting me in a new situation with every intention of letting me flounder, but how is he planning on getting me in? Last I checked, the legal drinking age was twenty-one, not eighteen.

  Not about to explain, he shoves me toward the door. I expect questions, requests for ID I expect at least a second glance. Nothing. The bouncer simply nods at David and lets us both in without a word. My surprise only lasts a few seconds before shock sets in.

  Music blares around me, forcing its way into my head. It’s not the soothing notes of classical, but fast-paced beats that stir my blood. This is music I have been trained to avoid. Thick, warm air makes me feel instantly claustrophobic. The scents of sweat, alcohol, and underlying pain press in around me. Bodies move through the room in time with the music. Several people brush past me. Their contact startles me, but pushes me to go deeper into the crowd.

  Somehow, we make it to an empty table in the corner of the room. David sits down with his elitist posture fully intact. I collapse into the booth and loosen my tie as I try to gulp in a deeper breath. Somewhere in this crowd, there is someone that I want, that my hunger wants. More than one someone in fact. I can feel the intense pull of my hunger trying to lead me in multiple directions, but the mass of bodies makes it hard to pinpoint the sources. I do everything I can to focus on something else. I turn back to David for help. He isn’t even paying attention to me. His eyes sweep the club again before taking any notice of me and bothering to speak.

  “Your task tonight is to speak with five different women of my choosing. The conversation must last at least ten minutes, or it doesn’t count. You are not allowed to plan beforehand. I will choose a woman, and you have thirty seconds to approach her.” David looks over at me. “Do you understand the challenge?”

  “Sure, but what is the point of this?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to get out of this club. “How is picking up women going to help me in combat?”

  David smirks. “You’d be surprised.” His eyes drift away from the table and land on a tall brunette with a blue silk blouse and black skirt. “Her,” he commands.

  I try to object, get a better answer out of him, but he merely reminds me of my thirty seconds and shoos me away. The irritation buzzing around in my head makes it hard to concentrate. I try to think up something to say as I walk toward her table, but talking to women has never been my strongest area. Before I can come up with anything, I’m at her side.

  As tall as I am, it makes me hard to miss. The woman turns toward me expectantly as soon as I approach. Her eyebrows rise when I don’t say anything. I can feel the sweat beading all over my body. Dangerously close to panic, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Your blouse is beautiful. I really like that color on you.”

  The woman’s head tilts to the side at my out-of-the-blue comment, but she doesn’t seem to be insulted, at least. “Thanks,” she says. “Do I know you? You look familiar, for some reason.”

  The urge to run douses me again. If I look familiar, it’s most likely because she’s seen my picture on the news. My Godling abilities have put me center stage in the sports spotlight. I can hardly admit that, though, without giving away that I am still in high school and it is completely illegal for me to be here. My brain scrambles to come up with a response.

  “I don’t think we know each other. Maybe I just remind you of someone.”

  She stares at me more intently. “It’s the hair,” she says. “Something about your hair seems familiar. It’s not just blond, it’s white.”

  “It’s a genetic thing,” I say out of habit.

  That seems to spark something in her. The woman’s eyes widen in fear. “I know why you seem so familiar. You look just like that kid who killed his parents last year!”

  My breathing stops entirely. I hadn’t even considered that might have been the source of her recognition. One of the few sound bites the news could get out of Oscar was him ranting that his problems were genetic. They couldn’t blame him for killing our parents because that’s what he was supposed to do. Desperate to get away from her, I stand up hurriedly.

  “Is that you?” the woman demands. “Are you really that guy?”

  “No,” I say quickly. The way she is clutching her purse and huddling against her chair makes it clear that nothing I can say will make any difference. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  I make a beeline back to David, flopping into the booth with shaking hands. Even though I’m sure David somehow managed to overhear everything, he sits placidly without comment on my hasty arrival. He raises his glass to his lips slowly, while I try to regain control of myself. Finally, David decides to acknowledge my presence.

  “That went better than expected.”

  I stare at him, realization coming slowly. “You knew that would happen?”

  “Of course. That young woman is a reporter for Channel 12 news. She provided quite a bit of coverage during Oscar’s trial and commitment to Peak View.” David takes another sip, obviously pleased with himself. “I actually expected her to recognize you sooner.”

  Anger simmers under my skin, but I hold my temper and keep it in check. David doesn’t respond well to me questioning his methods. There will be no negotiating on this task. The rules will not change because I think he has an unfair advantage. No, I am expected to learn the lesson he has in mind, and I will not be dismissed until I do. Knowing that, and having no desire to stay here any longer than necessary, I sit back and wait for him to choose a new mark.

  It takes me three more tries before I manage to keep a conversation going for the required ten minutes. The second woman David chose used to date one of the assistant football coaches from my school. She knew who I was as soon as I introduced myself. She bailed immediately, not interested in being seen with a high school student, despite the fact that I’m already eighteen. The next woman wasn’t interested in men, me or anyone else. David only bothered to share that he had seen the woman and her girlfriend together on the dance floor after the fact. My next attempt seemed to be going fairly well until the woman’s boyfriend returned from the bathroom and nearly started a brawl.

  After that, I knew every woman David sent me after was going to have something that would prevent me from being successful. There was no way I could know in advance what that would be, but I began to realize that it didn’t matter. She could mutate into an alien and David would still expect me to adjust and continue the conversation. When David spots the next woman, I decide to take a different approach. He used Van as an example of how my fighting needs to improve. The same must be true for this.

  Van has an unusual approach to life. She tries to be careful, but her emotions frequently get in the way. She hates lying to people, so she tells the truth as much as possible, only lying when keeping important secrets. People who have heard of Van tend to be afraid of her, but she never lets that stop her from trying to win people over. I don’t know how she manages so many complex and exhausting interactions every day. However she does it, I need to figure it out soon if I have any hope of passing David’s test.

  Nervous energy still crackles around me as I walk up to the bar for my next test, but I picture my little sister and the many conversations I have overheard
between her and her friends. I make it through three interactions that satisfy David, dodging pitfalls like one being a married woman, one an emotional wreck after a recent break up, and another turning out to be a new nurse at Peak View who knew Oscar.

  It was hard not to call it quits as soon as the nurse made the connection, but I actually managed to turn the conversation around into an appreciation for her willingness to work with people like him. The only hiccup was trying to buy a drink for a woman and offending her feminist pride so greatly that she slapped me in the face. David got a real kick out of that one.

  With three down and only two more to go, I slide onto the barstool and turn to face a gorgeous redhead. Her back is to me at first, but the friend she is talking to notices my attention and nudges her. When she looks over at me, I smile like I used to when I saw Ivy from a distance, before she got close enough for my hunger to react.

  The redhead shifts in her seat so she is looking at me, but her body is still partially turned toward her friend. “Can I help you?” she asks. It’s a direct question, but she asks it with a smile.

  “Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I hung out here for a few minutes. I need a break from my uncle over there,” I say, gesturing in David’s direction.

  Both women swivel to take in David’s severe appearance. He definitely stands out when surrounded by more skin than clothes. He’s also the oldest person here. Both girls smile and turn back to me. “No problem,” the redhead says. “Your uncle doesn’t look like the clubbing type.”

  “Not really.”

  “Then why is he here?” the friend says, a blonde with bouncy curls trailing down her back.

  I shrug. “I think he’s trying to teach me a lesson.”

  “A lesson? What kind of lesson?” the redhead asks.

  Smiling, I say, “I’ll let you know when I figure that out. He’s a strange guy. I never know what he’s really up to.” Both girls giggle, and I start to relax. “I’m Zander, by the way.”