Until Beth

by Lisa Amowitz

  Gideon stood, leaning forward on his desk. “Indeed you did, Beth.”

  A tiny thorn of anger still throbbed beneath Vincent’s gentle touch. “I’m not here because of my musical ability, am I?”

  “High Step is first and foremost an accredited school, Beth,” Gideon said, “and we do provide a top-notch education in the arts and humanities, focusing on our student body’s diverse artistic gifts. However, we also specialize in a curriculum you won’t find anywhere else.”

  I pushed Vincent’s hand off of my arm, and the avalanche of shock knocked the breath from me.

  It was coming back to me. The shadow that had followed Luke and Carson the night of the accident. The same shadow that had hovered in Carson’s hospital room. The dead mouse.

  “What am I?” I shouted, staggering backward toward the door. Vincent followed me and, though I put up a lame resistance, pulled me back into his arms. The fight drained out of me, and I sank against him, the relief like stepping into a warm bath.

  Vincent guided me back to my chair and, gently coaxing me to sit, rested a hand on my shoulder. Calm returned in lapping waves. My rage was tamed, an angry bull shot with a tranquilizer dart.

  Gideon came around from behind his desk and knelt to look me in the eye. His voice was soft, the crisp accent precise and pleasant. I admired how the stream of sunlight lit the strands of red fire and pure silver in his auburn hair and I listened as Gideon’s words dropped around me, feather-soft.

  “You are special, Beth. So special that we had to devise a unique strategy to read you into the Program.”

  “Read me in?”

  “I’m going to try to help clear things up for you,” Gideon said. “But you have to promise that once Vincent lets go of you again, you will try your best to restrain yourself.”

  Vincent lifted his hand from my shoulder and the fury of confusion bombarded me. The room darkened and my neck tingled with pins and needles. I whirled on him, my anger tempered with the aching need for him to touch me again.

  “Never mind me. What the hell are you?”

  “I’m your control,” Vincent said calmly, pale eyes burning. “Remember, I have only your best interests at heart.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Gideon said, “that this valiant young man has volunteered to work with you at great risk to his personal safety and well-being.”

  Vincent extended a hand and pulled me to my feet. My ears were ringing. Darkness swirled around the room like a shadowy whirlpool. I grabbed hold of Vincent like a drowning woman caught in a rushing current. Silence dropped over the chaos and the darkness dissipated. Vincent pulled me closer and pressed me against the hard muscle beneath his flannel shirt. “We are two working components of a greater whole, Beth. In our world, certain Talents work in pairs.”

  My head against his chest, I listened to the vibration of his voice inside his ribcage. I had no idea what he meant, but as he guided me back to my seat, Vincent did not leave my side.

  “The weeks ahead will be challenging, Beth,” said Gideon. “But here, under the tutelage of the High Step Program, you will learn to master your abilities. Taking you in to the compound has been a great risk for all of us. With each newfound Talent comes a unique set of circumstances. Sadly, integration is not always successful.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was still missing something.

  “Beth,” Gideon said, “this school trains abilities that differ from the norm—talented people who, if left to their own devices, uncontrolled and untamed, can endanger society as a whole. It’s our duty here at High Step to manage that situation. It’s a contract we signed long ago.”

  I opened my eyes and gazed into Gideon’s dark pools. Vincent’s hand on my shoulder felt like all that was anchoring me to this earth.

  “I know this is hard to take in,” Gideon said “but if we didn’t discover you, read you in, and commit to teaching you how to master your Talent, it would only be a matter of time before you would have been tagged, hunted down, and eliminated. There are uninformed and fearful segments of society who offer a generous bounty on the capture and execution of those like us. It’s a fate other, less fortunate, members of our kind have been suffering for centuries.

  “Your town of Linford, Connecticut, seems to be a nexus for this activity, but the dangers are everywhere. They will follow you,” Gideon added. “Which is why, Beth, it’s not safe for you to ever go home again.”

  14

  DESPITE BOTH OF VINCENT’S HANDS PRESSED TO my shoulders, the floor seemed to drop away from beneath me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A cloud of darkness blotted out the sunlight and lowered over Gideon’s head. I choked out the words, “You don’t understand. I have to see my mother. My brother is—he’s severely disabled. She needs me. I need to go home. Now.”

  Gideon clasped and unclasped his hands. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Not for the foreseeable future.”

  I was on my feet, fists clenched. I leaned over the desk so my face was right up close to Gideon’s. The darkness was as thick as smoke between us. My neck and throat pulsed with electric energy. Gideon pulled away and for a moment I saw the fear that flashed across his serene features. He glanced to the side panel door, as if he expected his goons to come rushing to his rescue.

  “Settle down, Beth,” Gideon said, backing up, forcing his voice to sound calm. But I wasn’t fooled. Vincent’s grasp on my shoulders did nothing to dampen my outrage.

  “Settle down? Don’t you think my mother is going to get a little suspicious when I somehow forget to come home?”

  The panel on the wall opened and Monica DeWitt glided in, flanked by the same goons from earlier.

  “That’s all been taken care of, Beth,” Gideon said. “Your mother signed an agreement that you will remain on our premises for a full year, until your training is complete. Given her overwhelming circumstances, she felt she had no choice.”

  Monica stepped between Gideon and me and pushed me back into my seat. “The funny thing is that gradually, over the course of the year, she will simply forget that you exist.”

  “What?”

  Vincent’s fingers dug into my shoulders, but nothing could quiet the shuddering grief that pushed its way out of my lungs. “How is that possible? My mother would never forget me!”

  Vincent nuzzled my neck and my emotions twisted and pulled, caught between psychotic rage and the sudden desire to attach myself to his lips.

  “Please, Beth. Get a hold of yourself for your own sake,” he pleaded quietly.

  Monica smiled, opal eyes like sun on ice. “Here, the impossible is possible.” She backed away. Twirling around to face Gideon, she added, “If your dear little pet can control her. Is it worth putting the safety of this entire compound at risk over a single girl?”

  For only a moment, Gideon seemed to shrink into himself, then straightened, regal back erect, and glared back at Monica. “That will be enough, Ms. DeWitt. I am the Headmaster here, and my decisions overrule all others. Bethany is worth our efforts. Isn’t that right, Vincent?”

  Vincent whispered in my ear and I felt my outrage ebb and cool. “Absolutely, sir.”

  Monica faced us, her delicate features pulled into a scowl. “Worth dying for, Rousseau? I told you from the start, the girl is too unstable to be managed. And you’re too weak either way.” She whipped around and stormed through the main office exit, filmy gown trailing. The goons remained and glared at me like they’d like to crack open my skull with their bare hands.

  Vincent gathered me in his arms and held me close and tight, our electric connection heating me. I was soothed, but I felt his tension in my pores.

  I understood it now. As he’d been from the start, Vincent was petrified of me. I was vaguely aware of Gideon and the goons watching us tentatively.

  “Leave me with her,” Vincent said.

  “Is that wise?” Gideon asked.

  “I don’t believe she’ll hurt me.”


  If not for the warm haze of Vincent’s embrace, I’d have been outraged about the way they were talking about me, as if I were a stray dog with rabies. I stared into Vincent’s eyes, blue and serene as the Caribbean, but I recognized the fear that he’d worked so hard to disguise.

  They were all afraid of me.

  Vincent squeezed me tighter. “Leave us alone. Please. I can handle this.”

  Gideon motioned to the goons, who exited through the side panel door. Once they’d gone, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

  “She’s fine,” Vincent snapped. “We’re fine.”

  I was fine. Totally. There was no place I would rather have been than wrapped in Vincent Rousseau’s arms.

  With a worried glance back at us, Gideon left through the side door. We were alone in his office.

  “Beth,” Vincent whispered. “I’m going to let go of you.”

  “Why?” I laid my cheek against his chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart.

  “We need to talk.”

  Slowly, Vincent peeled me off of him. A black emptiness, as if I was a small child abandoned in the winter woods, engulfed me, but the room remained bright. My own mother had turned her back on me. I wondered if they had messed with her mind, too.

  “Beth,” Vincent said, softly. “I took a big chance on you.”

  I wanted to leap into his arms to stop the stampede of thoughts, but I needed to think clearly to understand my circumstances. Part of me wondered if I was still trapped inside a waking dream from the fall I’d taken on the night of the audition. If I was lying comatose in a hospital bed with a cracked skull and irreparable brain injuries.

  The desperate look in Vincent’s eyes told me I was not.

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  Vincent looked down at his hands, the fingers long and elegant. I imagined them sliding across my skin, raising goosebumps. I gave myself a mental smack. What was wrong with me?

  Vincent looked up again, his eyes immeasurably sad. “Not everything we do is a choice. Our life—this life—is not easy. But, believe me, the alternative is far, far worse.”

  Agitation rose inside me. I stepped closer. A vague shadow fell across Vincent’s face and I noticed him flinch. “You’re not making a whole lot of sense. Give it to me straight. What am I? What are you? Why are we prisoners of this sick excuse for a school?”

  Vincent remained still, but I could smell the fear on him. The coldness in his voice wounded me. The shadows around him deepened. “I will tell you everything if you will sit in that chair and not come a step closer.”

  I obeyed and settled into the chair, anger crackling in my chest. “Do you even like me at all? Or is this your sacred duty? Some kind of penance? Is this a cult or something?”

  Vincent’s stiff posture softened, but the wariness did not leave him. He was still on high alert, ready for me to do anything. “I like you very much. Much more than I ever expected to.”

  “Then why are you so afraid of me?”

  Vincent closed his eyes. Maybe he’d hoped I wouldn’t notice. Maybe the weird connection we had made me hyper-aware of his feelings.

  “You are,” I pressed. “Admit it or I won’t believe another word out of your mouth.”

  He sighed. “I took a huge personal risk reading you in. It was an unpopular decision. A Talent like yours is dangerous and exceedingly hard to control. Many think—they think I’m not up to the task. That I’m not strong enough because of my… But I just—I just couldn’t walk away.”

  My cheeks heated as I was swept by a fresh wave of anger. Darkness fell like ash around us. My voice boomed unnaturally in my ears. “Who asked you to rip me out of my life and install me in this nuthouse? You should have just left me alone. I can take care of myself.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Beth,” Vincent whispered, taking a tentative step closer. “But in time you’ll understand our world and the terrible risks our kind face. Have always faced. That you face.”

  “I’m not a freak like the rest of you here, hiding away from the world like some fanatic cult.”

  “This isn’t a cult, Beth. There have been Talented since the early days of the Druids, and probably before that. We have been crucified, burnt at the stake, drowned, hanged— you name it. I didn’t ask for this life either. No one asks for this, Beth.”

  Vincent’s arms hung loose at his sides, his radiant eyes sparking. “Do you want to know my story?”

  I nodded. Cinders of shadow orbited around me. I was afraid that one wrong word would shut him up for good.

  “We’d just moved from Normandy to Paris and I loved it. I never wanted to leave. But…” He sank to the floor and sat cross-legged across from me. “There are many prominent families in the Talented world, Beth. I come from an old family, a dynasty of Talented. But my father was rebellious. He married a Regular and wanted to raise me apart from this life. To train me to master my Talents his way.”

  “And?”

  “That didn’t work out so well.”

  “What exactly,” I blurted, “is your Talent?”

  Vincent closed his eyes. “I’m afraid that, if you haven’t realized it yet, you are going to hate me even more when I explain it you. And that may have fatal consequences for me.”

  When Vincent reopened his eyes, they were shiny and full of pain. “Please, Beth, promise you’ll try to understand that I’ve meant you no harm. I’ve only wanted to help you.”

  My heart started to pound. “You make me feel what you want me to feel. That’s your Talent, isn’t it? You’ve been messing with my mind from the minute I got here.”

  “It’s called Weaving,” he said after a pause. “Weavers knit, embroider, braid, and untangle emotions. We can cut cords that are inconvenient, thereby shifting your memories so they have no emotional resonance. We can braid in new emotions and alter your moods and thoughts. Some do it by touch, others by thought. I’m a Tactile.” Vincent looked away. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to understand, but I had to work you. You could have killed me. You could have done a lot of harm. You don’t understand your power.”

  “This sucks.” I lowered my head. There was no waking up from this dream. I was a captive of the freaks, locked away from society so I could do no further harm. “So, what do they call this lovely Talent of mine?”

  After an uncomfortable pause where Vincent looked everywhere except straight at me, he finally spoke. “We call your kind Liferenders.” He stopped, and a slight shiver rippled across his shoulders. “Liferending is the rarest form of Talent. It only appears once or twice in a generation, usually to a Regular family.”

  Edgy as I was, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a lame joke. “It sounds like some twisted kind of leisure sport.”

  Vincent did not return my smile. “It’s anything but a joke, Beth. Liferending is, simply put, the ability to stall death, detect death, and in its most lethal form, bring death, at will, to as many souls as desired with simply a thought. And like Weaving, it is either Tactile or Psych-based. You are a Psych.”

  I stared at him. To hear those words spoken so plainly confirmed my greatest fear. “Are you saying I’m Death itself? Teen Grim Reaper?”

  Vincent gazed at me, his expression mingled with concern, fear, and an obvious desire to hightail it out of there. “Your Talent may be the basis of some well-known legends. But it’s not your job to collect souls. You simply can kill with a thought.”

  I stared at the intricate floral pattern on Gideon’s rug and shuddered. “If you didn’t offer to, uh, read me in, what would they have done with me?”

  Vincent looked away again, unable to meet my gaze. “I-I don’t honestly know. It’s just that when they bring in a new Talent, not all of them adjust. I guess maybe there are other training centers that are better equipped to deal with difficult and dangerous Talents.”

  “And you decided to take it upon yourself to fix me because the idea of playing with death in gir
l form was fun. Is that the only reason?”

  Vincent looked at me, perplexed. “No, it’s—no. I just felt—I felt I could help you, despite everyone’s lack of faith in me. That I understood you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Maybe.” Finally, a smile swept across his face, darkness banished. Light finally reached his eyes. “Or maybe I just like flirting with death.”

  “What if I blow it? Like, let’s say I lose control and kill someone?”

  He drew closer, so I could feel his breath warm my face, but he didn’t touch me. “You won’t. But you do understand why it’s too dangerous for you to go home, don’t you?”

  I let the words hover between us. I didn’t mention that I had already decided there was no way I was going to let this confederacy of wackos keep me from visiting my family. “What about your family? Isn’t it okay to see them, since they’re part of this giant freak show?”

  “It’s better not to speak about our homes, Beth. When your training begins you’ll understand fully.”

  Vincent edged closer, his lips near mine. The space between us was no longer shadowed but charged with electricity. Vincent’s breathing quickened. Maybe, I thought idly, the possibility that I could strike him dead was an aphrodisiac. Because neither of us seemed able to break free of each other’s gravitational pull.

  “This weird bond we have,” I whispered. “Where does your Talent leave off and the real us begin?”

  Vincent murmured, his cheek brushing against mine, “Only time will tell, won’t it?”

  15

  GIDEON ENTERED SO QUIETLY THAT WE BOTH cried out and sprang apart when he spoke.

  “I trust you actually know what you’re doing, Vincent. I’ve put my reputation on the line for you.”

  Vincent flashed me a panicked look before he regained his composure. “Everything is fine, sir. Right, Beth?”

  “Peachy-keen dandy,” I chirped, and then rolled my eyes.