Invidious

by Bianca Scardoni

  Of course, I also didn’t mention anything about Dominic or how I’d spent the entire afternoon with him, hashing out the details of our plan. As far as Gabriel was concerned—or anyone else for that matter—Dominic was still my sworn enemy.

  Either way, this was just a temporary cease-fire until I got what I needed. As soon as I was done with this whole mess, I would be done with Dominic too.

  “Concentrate, Jemma.” Gabriel stepped back, dropping his arms in frustration. “This is important. You need to understand the mechanics involved in vanquishing.”

  I grunted my displeasure. How the heck was I supposed to concentrate with everything that was going on?

  “You should listen, kid. This isn’t a game of point-and-stick,” interceded Julian, the annoying Sentinel charged with overseeing my training with Gabriel.

  “Point-and-stick?” My tone was riddled with ridicule. “How about I point my foot and stick it up your—”

  “Precision is key,” cut in Gabriel, ignoring both our remarks in equal parts. “And your timing is vital. Every time or it could be your last time.” His moss-colored eyes turned hard. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Yes, I understand,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m not stupid.”

  “You need to be able to do this with your eyes closed and your hand tied behind your back,” he said sternly. “Instinct, preparation, muscle memory—this is what we’re building on and it’s what’s going to keep you alive. You have to be prepared for anything, everything, because a million things can and will go wrong out there.”

  I swallowed a hard lump of pride as his words sobered me. “I get it, I’m sorry. I’ll concentrate.”

  His face relaxed with something that looked a lot like sympathy. “This is for your own good, Jemma. You have to learn to anticipate your opponent’s next move and always stay one step ahead of them.” He straightened his back like a soldier standing his ground. “The objective is always the same,” he said and pounded his fist into the center of his chest. “Right here.”

  “Right.” I nodded and then finished the thought. “And then what?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What happens after you stake a Revenant?” I asked, curious since my last attempt clearly didn't go as planned. Besides, if we were going up against Engel and his men, I needed to know exactly how to get the job done right this time. “Do they like, disappear in a cloud of dust like they do in the movies?”

  “Of course not.”

  Julian snorted.

  “So, they just keel over and die?” I asked, choosing to be the bigger person and just ignore the irritating giant.

  “Not exactly,” said Gabriel, pushing his hand through his hair. “We’ll get to that eventually. All of that is secondary to you mastering your strike—”

  “No. I want to know now,” I pushed, taking a step towards him. “I’m tired of all the holes and half-stories. If you want me to grow up and take this serious then stop treating me like a child.” I squared my shoulders and asked again, “What happens after you stake them?”

  “They become incapacitated,” he finally answered. “But only for as long as the stake remains in their heart. Removing it reanimates the body.”

  My eyes rounded out at this unexpected detail.

  “Incapacitation, of course, is not the end goal. While vital to the process, and useful in instances of interrogation, it is simply the first step,” he continued matter-of-factly. “The objective is to vanquish them which requires dousing the incapacitated body in Cinderdust.”

  “Cinderdust?” Now we're getting somewhere. “What is that and where do I get it?”

  “It’s a synthetic element created by the High Casters which essentially ignites upon contact with a Revenant.”

  “Like a fire?”

  “It’s slightly more colorful and substantially faster, but yes, more or less like a fire.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, absorbing the new information. “So, basically, the stake to the heart puts them to sleep, and the Cinderdust is what makes it permanent?” I verified.

  “Precisely.”

  “Can’t we just throw some Cinderdust and be done with it?” I asked, frustrated by all the extra steps. “Why even bother with the stake?” It seemed like a big risk to take; especially for those of us who weren't on top of our game when it came to the whole aiming thing.

  “The Order dictates protocol. I assume it's because the Revenant's heart must first stop beating in order for the Cinderdust to do what it was designed to do, though it's simply just a theory of mine. I'm not privy to all the details regarding the actual transference.”

  “Wait.” I crinkled my nose at his strange statement. “Did you just say 'transference'?”

  “Well, a Revenant is never truly dead. Vanquishing them simply removes them from our world—a relocation if you will. That is the true purpose of Cinderdust.”

  “You just lost me,” I said, shaking my head and feeling more confused than ever.

  “Revenants are immortal,” answered Julian, lifting his head up from his magazine. “That means they live forever, as in, they don’t die.”

  “I know what it means.”

  “So what’s the confusion then?” he asked, sounding irritated even though this conversation didn’t involve him in the slightest. “They’re immortal, not immortal until.”

  “Revenants are indestructible,” explained Gabriel. “They’ve always been indestructible. Because of this, the Order was forced to find a way around it and did so with the creation of Cinderdust,” he nodded into it, waiting for me to catch up. “Much like a Reaper’s ability to realm jump, Cinderdust transports Revenants to another realm.”

  “So we’re not actually killing vampires, we’re like, u-hauling them out of here?” I didn’t like the sound of that. “What if they get a return ticket?”

  “Sanguinarium is a one-way ticket.” A strange look crossed his face. “There is no way out. No life form to feed on, no place to rest, no peace for your soul. It is eternal perdition for Revenants.”

  I shuddered at the thought of it. Not that I had any issue with sending Revenants there—they were murderous predators void of any humanity. But what about Revs like Gabriel? I couldn’t stomach the thought of Gabriel being sent to perdition.

  “So I guess I need to be careful where I point this thing, huh?” I tried to make light of the situation, but Gabriel’s smile only reached halfway to his eyes.

  “Just stay focused on what you were created to do. Your job is to rid the world of my kind. Never hesitate.”

  I flinched at his self-inclusion. “But you’re not one of them, Gabriel. You’re Anakim above all else,” I said, tilting my head to the side as I tried to get him to see it my way. “And you’re good, and kind, and decent. That’s a lot more than I can say about most people.”

  “Shucks. Someone get me a tissue,” sniffled Julian.

  “Why don’t you get one yourself?” I snapped, whipping around to face him. “And pick yourself up a muzzle while you’re at it.”

  “Jemma.” Gabriel tried to call my attention back.

  “Why is he even here?” I asked Gabriel, livid now. “All he does is sit in that chair like a stupid beanstalk and make stupid comments all day.”

  “He’s here for your protection.”

  “From what?” I asked with mock-laughter. “From you? You would never hurt me, and besides, he’d probably let me get killed anyway.” I’d had enough. Finding the patience to deal with Julian on top of everything else I had going on was becoming a job in and of itself.

  And I already had more than enough jobs.

  Gabriel pursed his lips, though I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. “I’ll talk to the Magister tomorrow. This obviously isn’t a good fit.”

  “Obviously,” said Julian.

  “You think?” I spat, staring him down as though I might jump in for a round of that point-and-stick game.

  If the Ma
gister had any sense at all, he would find another Sentinel to oversee our training because the current one was two short words away from being forced to eat his own tongue.

  8. MEAN GIRL

  Fog wafted over Hollow Hills like a translucent cloud of smoke, masking our world from the outside like some cosmic barrier that sought to keep us imprisoned. I walked into Weston early the next morning, eager to get a head start on my new plan, operation get close to Trace. The clock was ticking, and I desperately needed to figure out a way to put my hurt and anger towards Trace aside if I had any chance of getting the Amulet back. He was my one and only link to it, and pretty much the only lead I had.

  I still wasn’t sure whether it was future Trace or present-day Trace who took the Amulet from me, but one thing was for sure; one of them had it and that made Trace the only one who could get it back for me.

  Unfortunately, my target was already there when I arrived, which consequently, threw me right off my game.

  He was standing against his locker when I rounded the corner, his cell phone planted firmly in his hands. From the corner of my eye, I saw his head pop up as I approached, and even though my instinct was to look away from him—to avoid those storm eyes at all cost—I knew that wasn’t going to help me get the Amulet back. I had to get close to him again—as close as I could stand to get—and I had to do it without tipping him off.

  I met his curious stare and gave a meager smile, letting my eyes linger on his a while longer than they needed to. As dazzling as he was, I didn’t falter. I knew my place, and I knew my plan, and I was sticking to it no matter how good his just-showered-hair looked.

  The seed had been planted.

  Reaching my locker, I tossed my schoolbag inside and pulled out my homeroom books just as my phone vibrated in my jacket pocket. I glanced down at the screen and saw my sister’s number.

  Ignore.

  An early morning interrogation with Tessa was the last thing I needed. What if she started questioning me about the Amulet? What if she suddenly wanted it back, or worse, knew I wasn’t in possession of it anymore? I wasn’t even almost ready to deal with Tessa right now. And definitely not at this ungodly hour.

  My phone buzzed again.

  Voicemail.

  I threw the phone in my locker and shut the door.

  “Hey, Blackburn.”

  I jumped at the sudden sound of Caleb’s voice in my ear.

  He placed a steadying hand on my shoulder and laughed. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, squirming back a step. “I’m just a little on edge lately.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” He flashed his pearly whites and leaned his shoulder into the locker beside mine.

  Unless he knew a way to get the Amulet back, save Taylor, and kill a centuries-old vampire, there wasn’t much he could do for me. “No, but thanks for asking.”

  I secured the lock and bounced a glance over his shoulder. Trace was still leaning against his locker, though his arms were crossed over his chest now, and he wasn’t alone. Ben was standing beside him, talking his ear off, but it didn’t look like Trace was paying any real attention to him since his eyes were still pinned on me.

  And they didn’t look happy in the least.

  “You coming to the game tonight?” asked Caleb.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head as I turned my attention back to him. He really had that frat-boy look down pat with his crisp letterman jacket and perfectly tousled hair. “I have some stuff to take care of.” My eyes veered back to Trace, who was still watching me like a foreign movie he didn’t understand.

  My heart rate picked up again.

  I hated that that he still had an effect on me. It would be so much easier to hate him—to move on and forget him if I knew for sure that he betrayed me. At least then I’d have some resolution, some closure…and a clear conscience when I pulverized his heart the way he pulverized mine.

  “Maybe I can take you out sometime.” Caleb’s eyes fell heavy on me. “Like on a date or something.”

  “A date?” It took a while for the word to even register.

  God, when did that happen? When did something as normal as a date become such a foreign concept?

  “I don’t know. I have a lot going on right now.” I nearly cringed at how lame I sounded. “I still have tons of homework to catch up on. I really need to stay focused,” I added, hoping to lessen the sting.

  “Right.” He raised his chin in a nod, slow and weighty with disappointment. “Got it.”

  “Maybe when things calm down?” I offered, though we both knew that wasn’t likely to happen. The way things were going, I’d probably never get a chance to go on another date again. Those kinds of things tended to take a very distant backseat when you find out vampires exist and that your sole purpose in life is to destroy them.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  My gaze shifted over Caleb’s shoulder again. Ben and Trace were both staring now, and I could see Ben’s lips moving. It definitely looked like I was the topic of their discussion.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Ben knew the full story; if he was up to date on what was going on. I had a hard time believing he would still be talking to Trace if he knew he was partly responsible for Taylor's disappearance. Either he hadn't fessed up yet, or he really wasn't there that night.

  The not-knowing was killing me.

  I needed to dig deeper into Trace’s story, to disentomb his secrets and find out what the heck was really going on. There was only one place I could think of to start.

  “Have you seen Morgan?” I asked, turning back to Caleb. If anyone could provide insight into the truth, it was Morgan. She was a Seer after all. Maybe she’d like, seen something.

  He shook his head. “Check the washrooms. That’s where the girls usually hang out.”

  “Right.” I should totally know this. “Thanks.”

  Morgan was standing in front of the bathroom mirror applying a thick coat of mascara when I walked into the girls’ washroom. Luckily, Nikki appeared to be nowhere in sight which elated me to no ends. I much preferred to have this tête-à-tête without the ice queen present; especially since I had the nagging suspicion that she controlled most of what her friends did and said, and I really didn’t want to risk her interference.

  I darted across the washroom, checking under each stall to make sure no one else was in there with us.

  “You do know how weird that looks, right?” she said, looking at me through the mirror, her lash brush mid-air. “And it’s probably illegal too.”

  “I'm just making sure we’re, um, safe. You can never be too careful, right?” I said, heading back the other way to lock the door. “That mascara looks great on you by the way,” I added—my pathetic attempt to soften her up a little.

  “I know.” She blinked hard. “What do you want?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “About Trace.”

  “Why don’t you talk to Trace about Trace?” she said, pulling a tube of red lipstick out of her makeup case.

  “Because I need the truth and Trace seems to have a hard time with that.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “That vision you told me about at the dance,” I started.

  “What about it?”

  “Is it true?” I moved beside her and watched her through the mirror. I needed to know if there was any truth to what she’d said or if it was all part of some sick game.

  “Of course it’s true.” She tossed her red curls over her shoulder. “Why would I make that up?”

  I decided not to answer that question honestly. I wasn’t sure how much she knew about what happened that night after the dance. “I’m just trying to sort everything out,” I said, aiming for vague. “So you saw Trace die in a vision, and it was because of me? To save me?”

  “Pretty much.” She smacked her lips together and ran her finger along the edges, remo
ving the excess lipstick.

  “To save me from what? When? And why would he do that? Why would he risk himself to save me? Does he—”

  “Oh my God, stop,” she cut in, making a face. “I’m not a fortune-teller, okay? You’re asking me questions I don’t have answers to.” She tossed her lipstick back in the makeup case.

  “But you’re a Seer!”

  “Yes, a Seer—not an Oracle. I have visions, like tiny little glimpses of the future. That’s it. I try to call them like I see them, but I don’t always have the full picture.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. “Okay, so what did you see?”

  “I saw you. I saw Trace. I saw blood. A lot of it. I saw you pull each other in, and then a final, you know...”

  “A final what? A final word? A final breath? A final kiss?” Goddamn her, I needed answers!

  “All of the above. More or less.” Her evasive emerald eyes flickered to me through the mirror. “Look, you told him you loved him and then he was dead. That’s what I saw. Okay?”

  I couldn’t seem to pull in enough air to fill my lungs. “When did you see this?”

  “Right before you moved here.”

  “Did Trace know?”

  She nodded.

  “So you guys knew I was coming here before it was even decided?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I wasn't yet sure how to feel about that. “Have you had any other visions?”

  “Tons.”

  “About me?”

  “Some.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “No.” She swept some powdered blush across her cheekbones. “Like I said, I’m not a fortune-teller.” She paused for a moment and then turned to me. “And I’m not a therapist either, so if you have relationship issues with Trace, you need to take that up with him.”

  I lowered my head. “That’s not exactly an option right now. Things are really...messed up.”

  “I’d say so.” Her gaze softened with what looked like pity as they looked me up and down. After a brief pause, she said, “Look, for what it’s worth, I know he cares about you, okay? A lot.”