Wicked Glory Page 8

  A moment later, I find myself shoved into the room, the click of a lock following close behind. My shock wears off only seconds later when Ivy’s intoxicating presence grabs hold of me. I nearly sink to my knees right then. Grabbing the door handle to steady myself is the only thing that keeps me standing.

  Breathe. Breathe, I remind myself. Take it all on, but don’t let it control you. Store it. Hide it. Use it. The doorknob under my hand deforms like warm butter. My hand slips off and presses into the metal door. My hunger rages, lapping up the pain pouring off Ivy until I can’t store it any longer. My fingers curl, digging into the metal and leaving their mark.

  “Zander?” Ivy says softly.

  “Don’t,” I growl.

  There is a shuffling sound, and I cringe away from it. “Don’t try to block it out,” Ivy whispers. “It won’t work.”

  “Why would I listen to you?” I snap. “All you know how to do is bait me.”

  I hear the shuffling sound again, and my hunger screams at me. It’s so much worse than before!

  “I know how to do more than that,” Ivy says. “I can help you.”

  Spinning around, I tower over Ivy’s suddenly frozen form. “You made that promise already, Ivy. I was stupid enough to fall for it then, but not this time!”

  “Before doesn’t matter,” she says as she backs away from me. “All that matters is what you do now. I can still save you if you’ll let me.”

  By the time she reaches the opposite side of the room and sinks down into a corner, I have at least a temporary control over my hunger. It’s not much, and it won’t last long. I turn away from her. The door, mangled by the hunger I couldn’t control, mocks me, so I close my eyes against it. Ivy stays still and quiet and, for a brief moment, I’m back in Ivy’s room, watching her as she sleeps. At the time, it seemed like the only way to be with her. I didn’t view it as what it was, something desperate and confused, twisted even, a line that never should have been crossed. Now, as I pull out of the memory, I’m disgusted with myself for ever being a slave to my addiction and that weak.

  My hunger is still ready to pounce at even the slightest provocation, but it’s calm enough for me to speak. “What does that mean? Saving me? Not saving me from dying, apparently.”

  “Saving you from becoming one of them.”

  “A Godling?”

  Ivy’s voice is sad when she says, “A killer.”

  She sounds so serious, so sure that everything she put me through was done under a righteous banner! How can she really believe that?

  “So, letting your friends kill me and my family would have been saving me?” I demand. “Is that the kind of saving your still working on? If so, I think I’ll pass.”

  My sarcastic words seem to have no impact. I hear her sigh softly before saying, “I know what happened to Lisa was an accident, but wouldn’t you have done anything to spare her life if someone had made the offer?”

  “You mean… would I have let the Eroi kill me if it would have saved her life?” I ask. The sharp bite to my words was spit out on instinct, a product of my fury at Ivy, but as the sound of my voice falls away… what I just said sinks in. If dying meant sparing Lisa, would I have done it?

  Yes.

  For a moment, I’m unable to process any other thought. Is Ivy right? That thought lingers, poking at me relentlessly until a new, more logical, thought forms. “It wasn’t the only way to stop me from hurting people, Ivy.”

  “Letting David turn you into an assassin?” she asks. “Is that the other option? You’re still killing, Zander, just under the guise of a soldier.”

  “There has to be another way.” The room is quiet for several long minutes, giving my hunger a chance to climb down a few notches from raging to tenuously manageable. “What gives the Eroi the right to decide whether or not I’m worth saving? And I mean the real kind of saving, like letting me live, not your screwed up version.”

  Ivy sounds confused when she says, “It’s our purpose, Zander. Don’t you understand that?”

  Shaking my head, I risk turning around to face her. Her eyes widen as our gazes lock. She’s scared of what I might do, which I don’t really understand. I shake it off, though, and focus. “Everyone keeps talking about their purpose, but I don’t think any of you know what the hell you’re talking about. A Godlings’ purpose is not to become a killer. An Eroi’s purpose is not to play executioner. A Richiamos’ purpose is not to die as a martyr for a made up cause. You don’t understand any of this! No one does.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Ivy asks.

  The disbelief in her voice is almost laughable. How can this girl, who is so skilled at treachery and manipulation, not see that everything she believes in is a lie? The Eroi don’t know any more about what’s really going on than the Godlings do! If either of them did, this war would have been over centuries ago. Isolde wouldn’t want to study me. David would know exactly how I beat James and what that kind of power means. No one would be trying to kill me or use Van. Oscar wouldn’t have lost his mind, and my parents would still be alive. I shake my head at the realization.

  “Look, Ivy, I don’t know what’s really going on with all of this, but neither does Isolde. I know you don’t have much time left. Do you really want to waste what’s left of your life playing puppet to someone who hasn’t got a clue how this will all end, or if they’re even right?”

  “How did you know…?”

  “That you’re going to die?” I say. “I may not have all the answers, Ivy, but I have enough to know ninety percent of what I’ve been told by both groups is a lie.”

  The door swings open sharply, and a rather pissed-looking Isolde yanks me out of the room.

  Chapter Nine: Boundaries

  (Vanessa)

  Part of me wishes David had kept me home the rest of the year. Facing months of being with him nearly twenty-four hours a day makes my skin crawl. Back to school it is. Yippee.

  Zander offers me his arm, and I take it, knowing I won’t be able to get myself up to the seat of the truck without it. I’m moving around much better now, but it still looks like I’d be more at home with the cranky, old man who shuffles around on his porch next door. If people weren’t already talking about me after I nearly killed that kid in the nurse’s office the day my hunger erupted at school, they certainly will be now. Oh well. I have thick skin.

  By the time I’m settled, Zander is already putting the truck in reverse. He doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate. I’m sure he doesn’t need to ask me if I’m nervous or worried. It’s probably clear in the expression on my face. My brother remains quiet until we come to stop in the school parking lot.

  “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  I nod, hoping I won’t need to call him. Ketchup will be with me all day. Whatever I can’t handle on my own, he’ll take care of the rest. Hopefully.

  Before I can ask Zander to help me down from the truck, my door pops open. Ketchup reaches for my hand with a nervous grin. “My schedule has been rearranged to match yours for the rest of the year.” He puts an arm around my shoulder to steady me once I’m on solid ground. “And nobody’s really been talking about that day, but it could change once they see you again. Oh, and I warned Laney and the twins to rein in their excitement at having you back. They promised not to attack you.”

  “Noah?” I ask quietly.

  Grinding his teeth just a little, Ketchup eventually says, “Warned as well.” He hesitates and glances over at Zander. “I couldn’t explain about the emotions, and that has me more worried than anything else.”

  “Just keep him away from Van then,” Zander says. When Ketchup and I glance at each other worriedly, my brother sighs. “What haven’t you told me?”

  “Um,” I say, not looking directly at him, “Noah’s someone we need to keep a close eye on for a while.”

  Zander’s expression turns wary. “Why? If he’s going to cause a problem, you need to tell me everything. I don’t care how much you
might care about him. I’m not letting him interfere with our plans. Too much is riding on everything going exactly to plan.”

  “As much as I’d like to cut Noah out,” Ketchup says, a clear hint of regret in his voice, “we can’t. Not until he saves Van’s life.”

  “What?” Zander asks.

  “Sometimes I see things… like visions. That come true.” I look up, only partially, to gauge his reaction. He’s not nearly as shocked as I would have expected.

  Dragging his hands down his face, he says, “Why am I not surprised?” He shakes off his frustration a moment later and points a finger at me. “No more hiding this kind of stuff, got it? I can’t keep you safe if you don’t tell me what’s coming.”

  “I won’t.”

  Surprisingly, it’s not a lie. There’s no point hiding my visions from Zander anymore. Even though I know he’s keeping whatever was on the phone from Isolde secret, I’m not worried about his relationship with David anymore. Getting shot and held captive by the Eroi in order to save me from David convinced me that my insufferable forced mentor hasn’t turned him to the dark side, and won’t any time soon.

  “Any other hidden talents I should know about?” Zander asks. When I shake my head, he watches me for a moment before sighing. “Fine. You better get to class.”

  I start forward, but Ketchup clapping my brother on the shoulder as he walks by… almost like they’re friends… holds me up for a moment. Not only did Zander not even react to physical contact with Ketchup—which is downright mind blowing—Zander follows it up with something that looks suspiciously like an almost-smile before he walks away. I stare at Ketchup in shock.

  “What? We talked,” Ketchup defends.

  “You talked?”

  “Yeah.”

  “About what?”

  Shrugging casually, he starts herding me toward the school. “You know… stuff. We worked things out. It’s not a big deal.” The blare of the bell sounds across the parking lot, causing everyone around us to grumble and start moving. I decide to give up on getting any more details as students crowd in around us as they make a beeline for the doors. More than likely, I wouldn’t understand anyway. Guys think girls are weird, but they make even less sense.

  We’re almost to our first class when a familiar presence teases my hunger. It stops, though, just at the edge of my control. Ketchup doesn’t feel it, so when I stop short of our class, he looks down at me as if something is wrong. Only when I turn around and he follows does he see Noah standing a few feet away.

  “Van, how are you doing?” he asks. “I hated not being able to check in on you.”

  Even from this distance, I can feel the ache of fear in his chest. At first, I think it’s just his worry about me, but as I try to pin it down, it proves slippery. “Sorry, my uncle’s orders. Strict bed rest and no electronics. I’m doing a lot better, though.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Ketchup kept us updated,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he seems to be trying to puzzle out why Ketchup was given access to me when nobody else was, “but I was still pretty worried.”

  “Thanks, but I’m really doing pretty well, considering everything.”

  Noah’s lips part, but he breaks eye contact before saying whatever is on his mind. I find it strange that the fear floating around him doesn’t lessen any at my reassurances. Either he doesn’t believe me, or my health isn’t what’s scaring him most.

  “I’ll call you this afternoon, okay? I better get to class before I’m late.” Noah doesn’t wait for a response before turning and jogging off toward his first hour class. I’m left feeling a little stumped.

  “That was weird,” Ketchup says.

  “Which part?” I ask. I have a feeling it’s not that same reason I’m thinking about.

  Ketchup scratches his head. “He’s literally been an emotional wreck since you’ve been gone. He’s called me almost every day, demanding to know how you’re doing. Now, he acts like everything’s normal, except for being afraid of getting you sick. I told everyone your immune system was weak like David told me to, so they’d keep their distance and not touch you.”

  “Yeah,” I say slowly, “I don’t think that’s what was holding him back.”

  “What?” Ketchup asks. “What else would it be then?”

  I hesitate, not sure what I’m thinking makes sense. Before my hunger erupted, Noah admitted to me that he had seen some of what I can really do. I had no idea he had witnessed me stop a senior from trying to rape a friend of mine during freshman ditch day, but it hadn’t scared him off. We never spoke specifically about my hunger, but now I’m almost positive Noah already knows.

  “He stayed just outside the range of my hunger.”

  Ketchup frowns, his head tilting to one side. The doubtful expression he’s trying not to let creep onto his face says he doesn’t believe me.

  “He stayed exactly on the boundaries on my hunger, Ketchup. Exactly. Like he knew just how close he could get without his emotional pain setting me off.” I look over at Ketchup, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “He’s scared, too. Not just about my health, either. There’s something else he’s freaked out about. I just don’t know what.”

  “Do you really think he knows?” Ketchup asks.

  I can only shrug. “I don’t know if he knows everything, but he definitely knows more than he pretends.”

  Ketchup’s heavy sigh makes me want to do the same. He reaches for the door to our classroom a few seconds before the bell sounds through the halls. He holds it open for me, and as I pass by, he says, “We’ve got too many other things to deal with. I think it’s about time we find out what Noah is really up to.”

  “Sure,” I mumble, “right after David decides I’m not his new favorite pet.”

  Chapter Ten: Time to Prove

  (Vanessa)

  Beads of sweat roll down my arms as David stalks around me in circles. Every tap of his stupid shoes makes me want to kill him even more. A drop of salty moisture rolls into my eye, but even blinking it away takes too much concentration to manage. All I can focus on is keeping my arms from buckling. That, and how satisfying it would be to kick David in the kneecap the next time his crosses behind me.

  Planks are no new task for me. I’ve been forced to hold a static pushup position many times in my dance training, but that was for like thirty seconds! I don’t dare glance sideways and upset my precarious balance to look at the clock, but I know I’ve been in this position for more than half an hour. My left arm begins shaking uncontrollably, and I know I’m about to lose it. Grimacing, I dig deeper, refusing to show David any hint of weakness.

  I last another ten excruciating minutes before even the stored energy gained through my hunger can’t stand up to the lactic acid drowning my muscle fibers. Collapsing to the ground in defeat, I just lay there in pain. Even my hunger seems exhausted. It doesn’t rush to lap up my aches as usual. I’m so spent that I barely even notice David’s irritating shoes have stopped tapping around me. My breath fogs up the pristine shine on his dress shoes that are currently parked right in front of my face.

  “I expected …”

  I hate that I hold my breath, hoping for praise.

  “…much less, Vanessa.” David’s shoes shuffle, moving to a more relaxed stance. “You actually managed to exceed my expectations today.”

  “Try not to sound so shocked,” I mumble.

  I start to push up to kneeling, but I only get halfway off the crinkly grass before David crouches down in front of me. Startled, I begin to collapse again, but David reaches out and catches me. He is shockingly gentle as he helps me to a sitting position.

  “I’m not surprised that you can surpass what I would expect from other Godlings,” David says, “only surprised that you actually put forth enough effort to access your true potential.”

  I don’t say anything to that, mostly because I don’t know how to respond. He doesn’t seem to understand that I was trying before. I gave every lesson everything I had.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to learn control and do what he asked, I simply couldn’t do what he wanted me to do. I shift uncomfortably when I realize David is studying me, watching my every expression.

  Knowing he’ll just keep getting it wrong if I don’t explain, I decide to save myself a few unpleasant confrontations with him. “It’s not that I’ve changed, David. It’s you.”

  He considers me with narrowed eyes and, for a moment, I fear I’ve pissed him off. Instead of a punishment falling from his lips, he says, “That is a very astute observation, Vanessa. Indeed, I did misjudge your initial talents. Your hotheaded, brash actions led me to believe you would be similar to your brothers in talent, yet you have proved quite the opposite.”

  Did David just admit he was wrong? How is it that no one was here to witness this? I swear, no one will believe me if I tell them. My grouchiness at that thought is oddly lessened as I realize David isn’t glaring at me for once. He actually looks… pleased.

  “What does that mean,” I ask, “for me?”

  David extends a hand to me. I hesitate a moment before taking it, partly because my arms feel like Jell-O, but also because I can’t think of a time David has ever offered to help me up after the many times I’ve ended up on the ground during training. His grip is firm as his fingers close around mine. He pulls me up slowly and gestures to the bench next to the fence in the backyard. I shuffle over to it and sit. Imagine my shock when David sits down next to me.

  “What this realization means for you, Vanessa, is that the original training track I had begun with you has been altered. I now have a better idea of where your strengths lie, thanks in large part to your work with Chris, but to a lesser degree your work with Emma as well.” David crosses his arms over his chest, staring out at nothing in particular. “Just because I have a better idea of where your future lies does not mean you have any less work ahead of you, though.”