by Holly Hook
Riley looks at me with a frown. “You still look and sound like Olivia. That’s not a bad thing, though.”
Lily blinks, though. “You looked blurry for a second to me, but that's all. It's a start. You won’t master this the first time you try.”
I shake my head and drop my arms. “Why can't I do this is I controlled Dominic of all people?”
Riley seems to think. “Controlling someone's perception is probably a finer skill. Controlling people and making them hurt each other is more, well, raw.”
“So I'm unrefined?” I ask, trying to stay lighthearted. It's difficult. What if I can only hurt and kill? No, that makes zero sense. I changed Mike Rivera's thoughts when he was interrogating us for Edward's murder. It was only for a moment, but I did it.
“I think what Riley means is that this power is like needle-point embroidery,” Lily says. “It's harder to master. And controlling people is like using a hammer which is easier to master.”
“I see your point,” I say. Frustration won't get me anywhere, except for maybe lashing out again. At least I'm learning what triggers my episodes, which gives me the chance to stop them unless they're necessary. “I'll try again.”
Lily digs her toes into the sand. “You were blurry for a second, so you're onto something. And since Riley saw nothing, start with just targeting me. He's got that powerful blood now, so Riley will be more difficult. Start easy and work up.”
“I will,” I say. That also makes sense. “Okay. Here we go. Again.”
* * * * *
I work on convincing Lily that I'm some angry redhead until lunchtime, and she keeps saying that I'm getting close. But close is not good enough.
“You were really blurry for a few seconds.”
“I blinked, and your hair looked short for a second. Like a pixie cut. But now you look like Olivia again.”
“You're at the edge of doing it.”
I'm getting hungry from expending so much energy by the time the brightest part of the sky has drifted overhead. I lean against the car and groan, and then Riley's there, patting me on the back.
“This is a new skill. Maybe you should try a fresh approach?” he asks. “Maybe you're trying too hard.”
“Dad knows how to do this,” I say. “And he left.”
Riley sighs. “I know. We need to find him. That might work faster with helping you to defend yourself at this rate.”
Dad left me to deal with this High Council stuff. Then I breathe out, sensing the power build in my chest. I'm verging into lash-out territory and if I cannot get control of myself, I'll take it out on Riley and Lily, who are just trying to help.
Maybe Dad didn't know about the High Council and the voting system that could determine our fates.
But I still need him just to tell me how to survive.
Or make him feel like shit for leaving...
“We should get to class,” I say, straightening so fast and almost pushing Riley off.
“Huh?” he asks.
I hope my look communicates my urge to get out of there and away from these thoughts. Because I'm nowhere near controlling them yet.
“We should get to class. Olivia might need to rest,” Lily says. “I'll get on looking for where her dad might be. Since I'm of age, I should have access to the Rivera database, and the tools they have to track people.”
I'm glad Lily's providing a distraction and a solution. “You can track people, like in crime shows?”
“Hunters embrace technology more than you think,” Lily says. “We're not all stuck in the Victorian era using old-fashioned crossbows and wooden stakes. We hunters get technology from the government. And I'm expected to help track your father. The others are looking for him, and Dominic, too.”
So Riley and I aren't alone in that. “Lily. Thanks.” I'm calming down. Maybe there's hope for me after all. “Let me know if you find anything.”
“I'll be on it after school,” Lily says. “You two can't come with me, for obvious reasons. I'll go to the hunter headquarters, and hope no one finds what I'm doing.”
* * * * *
Riley and I go to class and try to get through the rest of the day. We talk little about my new training, but as I sit through my lessons, not really absorbing anything the teachers are saying, I think about Dad's tricking of me. When I first saw him walking through town, in front of that restaurant Lily and I were at, over and over, he looked like some random guy named Ned. He caught me off guard, and I had no idea the guy was Dad.
Then I followed him like a moron.
What was different about that?
Was it the surprise element? I didn’t expect Ned to to be Dad in a million years. Lily and Riley expect to see me as Olivia. They know I'm trying to fool them, and maybe that's another barrier to this mind power working.
I look at Riley, who is taking notes beside me.
I've got to figure this out, and I might have to do it on my own. I can’t wait for Lily to track Dad.
Riley suggests that we sneak into the mansion after school, to spy on the other Nightsides. Because not only do we have to deal with my training and finding Dad, but we also have the joy of weeding out the Originator, or whoever murdered Edward and tried to pin the blame on Riley. That person will want to see Riley destroyed in the Convening.
We drive back to the mansion, and I call Mom on the way there and ask her how she's holding up. Riley drives in silence beside me, and the radio stays off.
“I'm holding up fine. How about you?” Mom's voice is sad, but she's oblivious to the horror Riley and I experienced late last night. She's got no idea about the Convening, so Dad probably didn't, either.
How can I throw this on her? Yeah, Riley and I might be dead in a month, and you might have to start your life over again. I can't do that to Mom, even though she's the parent and supposed to listen to me. Well, she is slightly responsible for this mess. All Mom wanted was to reunite with Dad, not for me to awaken my mutation.
But she knew it could happen.
“It's fine,” I leave.
“You've got a lot on your plate.”
No shit? “Riley's handling a lot, and we have the committee, so we don't have to deal with the business stuff.” I regret this call. I can't spill anything yet, and Mom's comfort feels like it's on the other side of a wall. A military bunker wall, as strong as the mental barriers those High Council Truebloods have.
And what can Mom do? She'll just worry herself to death if she knows they have thrown this nightmare on me.
“That's good,” Mom says. “They'll find your father. Something strange is going on, but I think he was trying to do the best he could for this town. Edward was in a good spot to smuggle the Beaumonts back into Moon's Peak, and he had his reasons. It's unfortunate, but this world isn't as black and white as people think.”
“No. It isn't,” I tell her as we drive up the hill that leads to the mansion. “I bet the Beaumonts told him they'd fix his livelihood and give him a bonus if he did. Edward would have known what he was doing. Most of the high-status people in town do.” Maybe this call isn't so bad, and Mom has hope. “The hunters won't hurt Dad, will they?”
“I've talked to Mike and Ella Rivera. I know your father. He's always had your best interests at heart. The hunters say they will not kill him, but they need his entire story. They're just as scared of this rogue Nightside as we are.”
“Thanks.” Mom's in my corner.
Dad hinted that someone else was in control.
But why hasn't he come back to warn us about who it is?
“Take it easy, Olivia. We should go out to eat this weekend,” Mom says. “Just you and me.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“That didn't sound so bad,” Riley tells me.
I breathe out and let my shoulders drop. I tuck my phone in my leather jacket as Riley slows and the gate to the mansion comes into view. He pulls in and cuts the engine. “So much for sneaking in,” he whispers. “The Nightsides hear everythin
g.”
“Not if they aren't paying attention,” I hiss. “Look, after that training earlier, we need to hunt. The cafeteria lunch wasn't good enough.”
“I agree.” Riley nods and slowly opens the door, quietly, and he closes it without a sound. Then he whispers, “and then we come back and sneak in. Quietly.”
CHAPTER SIX
Riley and I only need an hour to hunt, as deer have moved back into the area. And I have no problem bringing one of them to us, a large male who has lost a single antler.
My abilities to control the body of another are easier than the ones to control a mind, so using them, I lure the deer closer, and Riley dispatches it with a simple twist of the neck. It's a fast death, an easy death, and far better than what the High Council will give us if we're inadequate. Or worse, considered dangerous.
The deer's blood fulfills us both, and by the time we finish, we're ready to go back to the mansion.
“We sneak through the back door,” I tell Riley, glad I’ve sated the hunger for a couple more days. “I've done this before, and we can sneak in quietly. Dominic was listening all the time, and I could sneak up on him.”
“That's skill,” Riley says with a grin. He wipes a bit of deer blood off his lip with his finger.
We walk back through the woods, crunching dead pine needles, but at least the freshly fallen ones muffle our footsteps. I'm doing something right. I open the mansion’s back door and we creep through, careful with every step, and I allow my senses to rise again. It's a bit harder now that we've just hunted, since my hunger helps with that, but doable.
I slowly let the back door close behind us without a sound as we stand in the rear maintenance hallway. The mansion is mostly empty. I can hear one of the grandfather clocks ticking in the guest room, and the sound bouncing off the walls in there and curving around the leather couches.
Riley looks at me as we linger in the back hallway, close to the basement double doors at bottom of the steps. No alarms go off this time, as we've disabled them.
I listen again, letting my senses sweep over the entire house. My hearing pops, and I detect every little groan of the mansion's woodwork in the gentle breeze. I can hear a faint rumble of the house settling as it gives off heat. It's eerie, and the sounds threaten to overwhelm me, but then I remind myself to focus just on the people in the mansion.
Mom's gone, of course. She hasn't been here since Dad left. Not that I blame her. Her absence is louder than the rest of the house, even louder than the video games playing upstairs. Someone's gotten into a shooting battle with another online team, and they're winning. I can even hear the cursing of the player's teammates over a headset, tinny and getting way into the game. That must be Daeshawn.
Walton's on the phone with the city hall somewhere downstairs, and judging from his voice, he's sitting in the executive office that Dominic must have used before. His words bend as they round a corner and then stretch out as they float through the walls. He's working with the city hall to arrange the new property taxes for the lumber company. Fun. So he's not doing anything suspicious.
Lola, Daeshawn's lady friend, is out front, having a smoke. She puffs on her cigarette with so much intensity that I know she's worried about the upcoming Convening, too. Word has spread and we haven't even pulled an official meeting yet. The Nightsides are terrified, as those who were there for the High Council must have told the others. And I bet Lola’s not happy with me and Riley for not calling an emergency meeting yet. We must look like pros.
And then I hear Trish, up in a bedroom on the third floor, close to where me and Riley sleep.
“...not now, Stanley. I'm tired. We have a lot to worry about.”
“But how long have we known each other now?” he asks, also from within the same room. There's a rustling sound like he's going to pull off his shirt or has already started. “We've survived the whole attack on the Beaumonts and they could come back, and then we'll never have taken this to the next level. You don't understand how hot I am for you...”
I slap my hand to my mouth, and Riley grins. So he's picking up on the conversation, too. Stanley and Trish are playing out like a bad college romance movie.
How hot I am for you?
Stanley is not the most romantic talker in the world.
“Look, we have to worry about surviving this Convening, especially since our new dear leaders haven't even pulled the coven together yet. As if we all want to follow a Trueblood,” Trish says. “We haven't even kissed, Stanley.”
“Shit, why are you so stuck up?” He's angry.
“Because I care about surviving what's coming,” Trish says.
At least the bad sweet talk has stopped, but I'm intrigued. I step forward into the sitting room just off the hall. There, I can hear better. I don't dare breathe in case Stanley and Trish can hear us.
“Everything’s against us, no matter what we do. Those Truebloods hate us and even the ones who don't just see us as pack animals.” Stanley’s words are hammers. “We might as well have some fun while we're breathing. This whole Convening thing is just to make sure we're all under control.” I listen as he unzips his pants.
“Stanley.” Trish is full of disgust. “No. I'm not attracted to you.” And then she storms to the bedroom door, with her pointed boots clicking against the floorboards and then a carpet.
“Bitch,” Stanley says with a sigh.
“I can't believe this,” I hiss. I thought Trish and Stanley were an item, and they're not?
“The kids. They're here,” Trish says.
“Great,” Stanley grumbles. His tone makes me wonder if he's the Originator after all. It's obvious he's not thrilled about us being home.
While I'm glad we won't get subjected to Stanley having sex and coming up with some cringe-worthy lines through it, I'm not glad that they’ve heard us. I shake my head and draw back against Riley, who puts his hand on my shoulder as we listen to Trish and Stanley straighten themselves out and exit the bedroom. Trish leaves first, coming down the steps, and she offers a low hello to Walton, who is coming out of the office.
There's nothing here, no evidence that anyone's plotting to betray Riley at the Convening and blow the fact that he took an ancient vampire's blood. Maybe the Originator, or the killer, isn't planning to do anything there but try to survive.
And the moon is made of cheese. There’s a reason the Originator came here.
“Well, that was fruitless,” I hiss
Riley grimaces at me as I turn to face him. “At least we didn't have to endure Stanley in the throes of pleasure.”
“We should call a meeting, though. If any of the Nightsides leave, then we won’t look good in front of the High Council,” I say. “We might as well do that tonight, while Walton is here. He's good at organizing everyone.” Apparently, he used to help run a homeowner's association back before he got turned, so he's got the skills. If anyone should run the new coven in Dad's absence, it should be him.
Riley shakes his head in exhaustion. “We have to be the leaders. This is so overwhelming.”
I reach out to embrace him, because despite my power, most of this nightmare is falling onto his shoulders.
And Riley accepts what little comfort I can give.
“If anyone gets out of control,” I say, “then I'll be there to hold the meeting in order. This might be a good time to weed out whoever the Originator may be.”
* * * * *
At least the other Nightsides are up all night and Walton, being the organized guy he is, calls everyone to the meeting. Though word has spread through the mansion, we're all gathered within half an hour, and then Riley and I have the joy of telling everyone about the surprise visit by the High Council last night.
And the entire time, I study the faces at the dining room table. Tension hangs in the air and I can barely breathe. Everyone is staring at me and Riley, standing there and sweating under the chandelier. And no one is smiling as Riley drops the news that we all get to look like dutiful serv
ants if we want a ghost of a chance to get out of the Convening alive.
I spend the meeting hanging back as if practicing my fake role, despite being the one supposed to help lead this coven. I even keep my hands folded over my thighs, the same way I did when the High Council was here. Stanley and Trish now sit on opposite sides of the table, and Becky has taken a spot by Stanley's side as if sensing the new rift. Lola and Daeshawn still hang together, and Walton now sits near the head of the table, closest to me and Riley. The other Nightsides, all younger-looking people who spent their days wandering around since being turned, look lost.
I can't tell which one of them could be the killer. But he's here, among us.
And he's listening to our plan to survive the Convening.
Riley finishes explaining the Nightsides' part in the deal. And Stanley glowers at him, no doubt still salty over Trish's rejection.
“We are not powerless,” he says. “We are not servants.”
Riley nods. “I know that you're not, and this isn't fair. I don't view any of you that way. Neither does Olivia.”
I clear my throat, knowing Riley needs help. As I speak, sweat gathers on my back. I'm not used to public speaking. It's the number one phobia for a reason, and for me, it's multiplied by fifty.
Thanks, Dad, for The Leaving, Part Two.
But I'm powerful, and to get through this, I need to embrace it.
“Look, we only need to look that way to get through this event. We're Nightsides, and we can be sneaky. I'm going to hang in the background and look harmless, and I'm going to train in order to make that happen. And the rest of you should do the same. We go in there, heads hanging like we fear all those high-status Truebloods, and then we use our powers to convince them to let us live. That's all. I suggest that we all work on our mind powers over the next month and then come up with a plan before we go into that convention center.”
I'm shocked at the words that come so easily. I've never imagined myself speaking in front of a table, least of all to people all older than me. Even the younger Nightsides must only be in their twenties, judging from their lack of life experience.