by Lisa Amowitz
We stopped frequently for my captor to suck in tortured breaths punctuated by hacking coughs. When my blindfold was finally removed, I gasped. A shaft of moonlight cut across Xavier’s gaunt face, the scarred half a pitted landscape of shadow and light. His black hair was plastered to his skull, his eyes feverish and bloodshot. The white tux was gone, replaced by a threadbare white T-shirt and torn jeans.
“Xavier! What the hell?”
Gesturing to his throat, Xavier shuddered, then coughed hard and long. Droplets of bright red blood trickled between his fingers and spattered the T-shirt. When the fit passed, he straightened. Looking at me sadly, he stroked my cheek with two fingers.
“You’re sick. You need help.”
Xavier shook his head. His jaw moved wordlessly until finally a sound rushed out, little more than a rasping breath. “Take this.”
He pressed a scrap of paper into my hand.
I wanted to ask what I could do to help him but before I could, he was gone, disappearing into the dark damp corridors without a trace.
23
IT SEEMED AS IF XAVIER HAD WANTED TO TELL ME SO much more than he had, but couldn’t. When I got back to my room, I was finally able to look at the note. I’d hoped it would shed some light on the mystery of what was going on with him, but it only added to it. All that was written on the crinkled scrap of paper was a crude doodle of a triangle punching through a circle. It meant absolutely nothing to me.
I tucked the paper scrap under my mattress with the Blast Mahoney button and tried to sleep, but a repeating loop of Xavier’s terrible, bloody cough kept flickering across my closed eyelids. I tossed and turned, gnawing fear seeping through the cracks inside me that had never fully healed. The pinprick where Sam’s Blast Mahoney button had pierced the skin of my palm throbbed and burned. I reached for the pin under my mattress and clutched it, but neither sleep nor any kind of peace would come.
The protective haze I’d been floating around in for the past few weeks was gone. Bitter memories came rushing back, razor sharp and crystal clear, and with them an avalanche of emotion no magic touch or meds could melt away.
I wanted to go home. I wanted my mother to hold me; I wanted to bury my nose in her soft hair and breathe her perfume. Even Carson’s limp embrace seemed comforting compared to life in this place.
I glanced upward. A black film eddied across the ceiling like windblown smoke, its echo crackling through the nerve endings in my scalp. A sob welled in my throat, but I didn’t dare let it out.
After a second sleepless hour I couldn’t take it anymore. I threw back the covers, tugged on my robe, and crept through the halls to Vincent’s room, something I’d never had the nerve to do before. I swallowed hard and knocked softly. It only took a few minutes for him to pad across his room and open the door, as if he’d been expecting me. I couldn’t tell him about Xavier and hoped he wouldn’t be able to decode the truth behind my emotional turmoil.
Blinking at me in his pajamas, his gold curls adorably disheveled, Vincent wordlessly folded me into his arms and guided me to his bed. He pulled back the covers and I slipped between them fully dressed; the sheets were still warm from him. He slid in next to me and I nuzzled against him. I slept cradled in his calming embrace and let my mind empty of troubles.
When I woke, the first light of dawn silvering the room, Vincent was already gone. I grabbed my robe and skulked out to the hall, palm burning, the troubles sifting back in like sand.
At breakfast, the dining hall buzzed with the excitement of last night’s pageant and my approaching Reveal. Lila held court, dissecting how everyone had looked in their glamoured gowns. When she tired of that, and of batting her eyelashes at the oblivious Demetri, she switched to the level of artistry necessary to transform me into a zombie rock goddess and what on earth to do with my hair.
I poked at my eggs and watched Vincent from the corner of my eye. He was staring intently at me and placed his hand on my arm repeatedly. The tension ebbed at his touch, but returned with a vengeance when he removed his hand, anxiety twisting my insides in tighter and tighter knots.
Other than sorrowful glances from Zuber, no one seemed to care or notice that Xavier was not around. My anger burned slow and deep under the cold spot beneath my ribs. Only Vincent’s touch kept it from boiling over.
Despite Vincent’s efforts, the noise of the chatter echoing in my ears and the fury burning in my throat became too much. I fled the dining hall—headed where, I had no clue.
With Vincent unable to contain me, I was officially a human time bomb.
I stormed up the stairs to my room. I couldn’t face class today.
I couldn’t face life at all.
Monica was waiting outside of my room, arms crossed. “I thought you might be upset. You do fancy that boy, don’t you?”
I heaved in a breath and tried to slow my heart. Faint ribbons of shadow scudded across the ceiling. “I don’t know who you mean.”
Monica glanced up, then locked her gaze to mine. “You have more important business to concern yourself with than Xavier and his mishaps.” With iron fingers, she grabbed me by the wrist. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in, Beth. I’m doing what I can for you.”
“I don’t want to be here. I never asked for this. I just want to go home.”
Her fingers pressed into the flesh of my arm. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. You’re a danger to yourself and everyone you know. It’s imperative that you master your Talent.”
My gaze snapped to the ceiling again. The shadows were thickening, electricity pinging in my veins. Their presence made me braver. I could kill her if I wanted. I really could.
“What’s happening to Xavier? Tell me.”
Her eyebrows lowered. “As I said, he is not your concern. You need to dress for your training session.”
“I’m not up to it at the moment.”
Monica’s fingers tightened on my wrist. “I’m not asking you, Beth. Perhaps you’ll allow me to explain the need for urgency.”
I hesitated, but short of striking her dead, I could see by the look in her eyes I was not going to win this one. “Well, okay.”
The frost melted away into an even more chilling smile. Monica strode into my room ahead of me. “Allow me to clear things up a bit. I suppose we owe you that. We haven’t been entirely open with you regarding the nature of your abilities. I’ve been protecting you from the Guild’s wrath.”
I blinked back tears. Somewhere inside, I must have known that no governing body would tolerate a deadly weapon with no safety lock.
Monica continued. “After your Evaluation, the Guild reclassified your Talent as a Level 10 Volatile, which means you were subject to a mandatory Recall. Gideon and I managed to buy some time, given our past successes with other, lower-level Volatiles. Unfortunately, this business with Xavier is putting a strain on our efforts.” Monica stared at me, opal eyes burning fiercely.
“I don’t understand. What does Xavier have to do with me?”
“Let me clarify. Recall is a euphemism for whatever the Guild deems necessary. We don’t really know what happens to the Talented that are removed from our charge. And I’m not sure you want to find out.”
“Xavier’s been Recalled?” My mind raced over the implications of the word. What did it imply? Brainwashing? Enslavement? Execution?
“If the Guild sends in the Knights of the Blood Rose, or KBR,” she said, crossing her long legs, “anything is possible.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There is much you need to learn about the world you’re a part of, Beth.” Monica paused, watching the emotions I couldn’t hide flicker across my face. “The Knights,” she continued, “are the Guild’s judicial arm. Since the Middle Ages they’ve investigated, tried, and sentenced those deemed a threat to the well-being of the Guild. But mainly, they are assassins.”
I shuddered. My face must have turned whiter than milk. Blood rushed to my head. “S-sounds ar
chaic,” I said, my lame response sounding forced and shaky to my own ears. “Like a cross between the Knights of the Round Table and the KGB.”
Monica’s gaze remained leveled at me, her voice calm and measured. “The KBR are no joke, Beth. They operate in secret. I have no idea if they’ve been dispatched or not. They do not consult me. I merely try to stay off of their radar.”
Monica studied my reaction. If she was frightened, either by me or by an unwelcome visit from the KBR, she didn’t show it. “On second thought, let’s do this tomorrow. Perhaps you should practice on your own in the meanwhile. Until you have yourself under control, I suggest you remain in your room. Your classmates will be told that you are ill and encouraged to leave you to rest.”
I couldn’t breathe in the stale air of my room. Assassins could be lurking, ready to kill me. To kill Xavier. I wondered if they were like me, Talented who had managed to wrestle their murderous rage under control, or if they carried actual weapons.
Either way, I had to get out of this place. I wondered where Xavier could have gone in the terrible condition he was in, and prayed the KBR hadn’t already gotten to him.
Outside my window, lightning streaked between the skeletal branches. The sky opened and unleashed its wrath. A shadowy figure slipped between the branches, with barely more substance than smoke. I heard the tinkle of piano notes in the wind.
I’d grown used to the shadow figure lurking in the woods of the compound and wondered if its presence was just another part of my weird Talent.
As much as I wanted to escape the compound and this crazy nightmare, I still couldn’t risk leaving until I learned how to control my monstrous ability. There was no evidence that the KBR assassins had come. Maybe if I developed some restraint, they never would.
Like a distant beacon off the coast of a full-scale panic attack, my music called to me. I heaved the window open, let the squall flap the curtains, and blew a kiss to the wispy figure. Pinning the Blast Mahoney button to my shirt, I settled down to play.
On some deep level, I needed the music. The more certain I became that Sam was dead, the more I needed to hold onto his memory in any way I could. Music was my only solace from the darkness closing in on me, and my only link to him.
Closing my eyes, I began to strum slowly, my fingers tripping clumsily over the cold strings. Tears slid down my cheeks for all I that had lost. For all that I had yet to lose.
I saw Sam’s face in my mind—the glossy brown waves, the black fringe of lashes that ringed those stormy grey eyes, his pale, almost porcelain complexion. I always thought Sam looked like winter. I swallowed hard, realizing just how much Vincent made me think of summer.
At first the flat chords twanged hideously. But I played until the cold dead music began to heat, then flow freely. I belted out “Fragile Forever” at the top of my lungs. I played until the walls rattled and the song came roaring out of me like a gale-force wind. Until my fingers cracked, then bled.
Beneath the numbness was a boiling reservoir of rage, pain, and grief.
I played until I broke through.
Above me on the ceiling, sooty clouds gathered and swirled into a billowing vortex. I sang on, hoping that I could coax them toward me like a snake charmer. Tendrils of darkness dropped and twisted around my throat, the blood chilling in my veins. I kept singing, even as my air supply choked off. But I was fading.
I’d somehow managed to call down my own death.
A flutter of wings crashed through my open window. The shadowy tendrils loosened their grip on my throat and shot toward the intruder. A small object thudded to the floor as the dark clouds dissipated.
Shivering, I poked at the still-warm body of a crow on my carpet and let out a cry.
I’d killed Lila’s pet bird, Pluto.
Hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion, I was too tired to contemplate what I’d just done. Instead, I curled up on my bed next to my guitar, clutching the Blast Mahoney button, listening to the faint tinkle of piano keys as I drifted off. Insistent pounding at my door woke me before I had the chance to actually fall asleep.
“Beth! Let me in!”
Groggy, I shuffled to the door in a trancelike fog. Vincent barged into my room, grabbed me by both shoulders, and pinned me to the wall, aqua eyes on fire. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“Taking a nap?”
Vincent’s lower jaw trembled. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I didn’t feel that?”
“Oh. That.”
“That, as in, you almost killed yourself.”
“It was an accident. I didn’t know I could do that.”
Vincent shook his head and raked a hand through his curls. “You have to get a grip on yourself.”
“Why? Who would miss me? Maybe it’s for the best.”
Vincent slammed me against the wall and hissed through gritted teeth, “You don’t get it, do you? Don’t you want to know why I knew exactly what you did?”
“Shit,” I said, finally understanding. “I almost killed you, too.”
“They warned me the link was dangerous. If you kill yourself, Beth, you take me with you.” Panting hard, Vincent stepped back as if surprised by his own anger. “Crap. I’m sorry. I just… It was the shock of it. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was racing. Everything was going dark. I didn’t… Listen. We’re in trouble. If we can’t get you under control, then—”
It was at that moment Vincent’s gaze fell on the dead bird on my floor.
“That’s Pluto.”
I nodded. “If not for him, I would have killed both of us.”
Vincent couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the tiny corpse. “Lila was worried about you. She sent him to check up on you.”
“You’re not going to tell her I killed her bird, are you?”
Vincent shook his head, gaze still glued to the bird.
“I’ll bury him,” I said. “I’m the one who killed him.”
Vincent leaned over and kissed my cheek, his lips cool and feather-soft. His hand glanced off my shoulder as if my touch could burn. When he dared to look at me again, his features had rearranged themselves into their usual mask of calm. But I wasn’t fooled. I’d caught a glimpse of the fear behind it. Vincent was plainly terrified of me. “I won’t say anything about this. You have my word,” he said, then left.
I crawled back into bed and dreamed about dead birds, dead boyfriends, and bruised clouds with mouths full of razor-sharp teeth. No one came to disturb my sleep.
When I woke it was quiet and dark. I still wanted to turn my deadly powers on myself. But there was no way I could take beautiful summer-sweet Vincent with me.
I just had to go on living.
24
I WRAPPED THE SMALL BODY IN A SILK SCARF. EVEN though I was its murderer, I owed the bird a decent burial. How I would inter it in the frozen ground was another story.
Though a full moon flooded the woods in silver light, mist hugged the ground in ghostly drifts. The night air had bite. I trudged through the snow, Pluto’s cold body like a stone in my pocket, the Blast Mahoney button clutched in my fist. Droplets of blood leaked from the tiny pin wound where the button had pricked my palm the first time. It burned and ached and I wondered if it was infected. In the whistle of the wind, I heard faint piano notes, but I marched stubbornly on in search of a proper burial site.
Disoriented from the hike through the cold persistent fog, I found myself standing at the tree where I’d first seen the crude message that had been carved into its trunk—“Fragile Forever,” surrounded by the outline of a heart. I’d forgotten about it in the chaos of everything that had happened since then—but there it was, clear in the bright moonlight. I still had no idea what it implied or who had put it there.
At the base of the tree was a hollow place where less snow had accumulated. With a stick I was able to poke at the frozen dirt and chip out a shallow hole large enough for the dead bird. I placed it in its cold grave, said a brief prayer, and told it I’d
never meant to kill it, then covered it back over with dirt.
Maybe it would be better if I let the KBR take me away and lock me up somewhere before I did any further harm.
My gaze fell on something strange gouged into on the tree trunk right above the hole in the tree’s base. Faintly carved into the bark and darkened with what looked like blood was an outlined circle with a solid triangular spike thrust vertically through it from the top. The symbol from Xavier’s note.
I still had no idea what the symbol represented and wished I had paid better attention in class or knew more about the history of this bizarre world I was now a part of. But at least finding out would give me something to do besides dwell on my own troubles.
I reentered the building silently and crept up the stairs to my room. I’d gotten pretty good at prowling around the compound and couldn’t resist taking a detour past Xavier’s room.
No guard stood in the hall. I pressed my ear to the door, then knocked, but there was nothing but silence. Xavier was gone.
I slipped through the darkened halls, afraid of what I’d do if I were cornered like a rat. I was so deep in the swirling cauldron of my thoughts that I plowed right into the person who blocked my way. I looked up into Lila’s tear-filled eyes. She’d been pacing the halls in her robe and pink Hello Kitty slipper boots.
“Have you seen Pluto? I-I sent him to check up on you. I was worried.”
“N-no,” I said. “I’ve been sleeping. It’s the flu.”
“Oh.” Lila looked me up and down. “You do look awful. But what are you doing up at this hour?”
“I was homesick and bored,” I said, truthfully. “I needed to get out of my room and stretch my legs.”