Also by DelSheree Gladden
Escaping Fate Series
Escaping Fate
Soul Stone
Oracle Lost
(coming 2015)
Twin Souls Saga
Twin Souls
Shaxoa’s Gift
Qaletaqa
The Destroyer Trilogy
Inquest
Secret of Betrayal
Darkening Chaos
The Aerling Series
Invisible
Intangible
Invincible
(coming 2015)
Date Shark Series
Date Shark
Shark Out of Water
(coming October 2014)
Wicked Power
Someone Wicked This Way Comes
Book Two
by
DelSheree Gladden
Samashwords Edition
Copyright © 2014 DelSheree Gladden
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
Contents
_______________________________________________
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
For all the Ketchup fans out there.
The character, not the food. Real Ketchup is just gross!
Chapter One: The Real Reason
(Zander)
Knowing I can’t kill Ivy without putting my family in danger really pisses me off.
I shift atop the uncomfortable limestone formation, the scratching of my shoe against the rough rock sending lose pebbles careening dozens of feet down toward the ground. There are times when I want to follow them. Then Ivy claws her way back into my mind, stoking my anger and the desire to return the pain she caused my family.
A quick glance at my phone a minute later reminds me of the time. Van will be waiting for me to pick her up from work soon, and her temper has been more volatile than usual lately. I shove my phone back in my pocket and stand. The three-foot square plateau I’m standing on is the perfect perch. It has become my favorite place to escape David’s training and the constant reminders of my failures. I can’t stay up here forever, though, no matter how much I would like to.
With only minimal caution, I lever myself over the edge of the limestone platform and dig the toes of my climbing shoes into the hidden crevices. I could descend the massive formation in a few minutes, but I’m in no hurry to rejoin civilization. I take my time coming down, and not because I’m climbing without a rope. The slow climb is a practice in patience. Something I desperately need.
David tells me not to think about Ivy, to forget her and focus on my training. It’s impossible. Her betrayal is not easy to forget, and can never be forgiven. The fact that she got away and I have no way of finding her again consumes me.
I don’t yet know what I will do when I find Ivy and the Eroi, but I will find them.
Until then, I have no choice but to suffer through David’s harsh training. I can’t stand the man, or his methods, but I need him. There’s no way I’ll be able to face down the Eroi and Ivy without the control and skills he can give me. That isn’t the only reason I train with him, though.
Van is the other main reason. Repaying my little sister for her unfailing love and compassion is the one thing that keeps me from running off after the Eroi right now. My hands and feet move down the rough-faced rock slowly. My mind is not on the rock, or where I’m putting my hands, not until a slash of color catches my eye. I feel my arms begin to shake as I stare at the dark bands of rock bordering a perfect strip of pink stone.
My rational mind knows they’re only rocks. The less rational part brings up images of Ivy’s jet-black hair, broken only by the stripe of unruly pink. It doesn’t stop there. Her eyes come next with their sneaking hint of maliciousness, something I never saw until the very end. Her petal-soft lips smile a smile that can no longer hide their betrayal.
I can feel my fingers dig into the rock, but I can’t stop them from crushing it with their inhuman strength, crumbling my holds and sending me into a free fall. The moment of weightlessness is strangely liberating before gravity claims me and starts dragging me down. Some sense of self-preservation makes my fingers scrabble at the rock. My mind only wonders how far I am from the ground, and how much it will hurt when I find out.
What is really disturbing is the rush of hunger that surfaces, waiting in anticipation for my body to break. Suddenly, my hand catches a rock. The force of such a sudden stop nearly rips my arm out of its socket. My hunger races to the joint and laps up every spec of pain. I try to ignore it and get my other hand back on the stone. My fingers search the cliff face for something to grasp. Luck is not with me today. The outcrop of rock my entire weight is resting on fractures under the burden. My fall begins all over again.
It isn’t nearly as long this time.
My feet hit first. Jolts of pain rocket up my shins. A sharp crack follows it as my backside slams into the dirt. The worst is my head ricocheting off the ground. It’s enough to send my vision into blurry darkness for a few seconds. I lay there suffering, not even attempting to keep my hunger from running amok.
There are definitely a few broken bones. My hands and elbows are a bloody mess. My brain is begging me not to move even a single centimeter after the collision it just endured. On all accounts, I’m happy to oblige. Closing my eyes, I lie in the dirt and don’t watch the cuts on my skin close up and heal without a single scar. I ignore the crunching sensation of broken bones mending, and I let the concussion I just gave myself recede without pondering it too much.
My thoughts center on Ivy.
She is there every time I close my eyes. I can’t escape her. She haunts my thoughts, taunting me for failing to see through her lies and deceptions. Images of that night assail me. I see her knowingly drawing out my hunger to a point where I had no hope of stopping it, and cast out any lingering hope that there was some good in her. She wanted to reveal me, but she ended up revealing her true nature instead.
Finally, the last of my injuries heal. In my opinion, the only true benefit to being a Go
dling is the ability to heal quickly. It doesn’t come without cost. I stumble when I get to my feet, my strength stolen. Even the short walk back to my truck seems daunting. I refuse to fail Van even in the smallest degree. So I shuffle to the truck and climb in, pausing to gather myself before turning the key and starting back toward the city.
A few minutes later, the not-so-high-rising skyline of Albuquerque, New Mexico appears in front of me. It’s a welcome sight. It’s something I didn’t think I would be seeing much more of after David showed up. He was adamant that Van and I leave our home and run off to some secret Godling training camp.
It wasn’t until Ketchup pulled out an ancient Eroi book he and Van stole from Ivy and threatened to never let David see a single page of it before he finally relented. Before that night, I had never particularly cared for the annoying little snot who had spent the majority of his childhood trailing after my sister like a lost puppy. After seeing him face me down—no small task given my superhuman strength and the fact that my hunger has tagged him as meal worthy—and protect Van better than I ever did, not to mention getting David to back down… well, I’ve gained a new appreciation for my sister’s condiment-named friend.
I merge onto the off-ramp and turn toward the dance studio where Van teaches. Saying that I have learned to be thankful for Ketchup’s watchfulness in no way means that I don’t still want to kill him. I know he is always in the distance when I’m around, but he stays far enough away not to arouse my desire to rip him into tiny pieces. When not even my desire for revenge on Ivy can make me withstand David’s training, what it can give Van does. Van gave up Ketchup because I couldn’t stand being around him without feeding, but I am determined to see her happy. Maybe if I can do that, Ketchup will tell me what his real name is. Sometimes, I’m not sure even he remembers.
The parking lot is still full when I pull up to the dance studio. I’m stuck parking around the side of the building. Knowing Van won’t see me if she comes out, I get out of the truck and head for the lobby. We don’t have time to wander about looking for one another today. David does not appreciate tardiness, and I have no intention of being subjected to his grueling penitence exercises again.
I wade through the flood of dancers trying to exit the building. The combination of miniature-sized ballerinas and cardio-kickboxing gurus makes for an interesting walk. I get bottlenecked at the door leading to the individual rooms, but I spot Van locking up her dance studio and heading toward me. She waves at me, but gets stopped by Noah before she makes it.
It is a sight I watch with mixed feelings. Noah, holding his five-year-old sister, Amelia’s, hand is the picture of a happy, normal teenager. My hunger couldn’t care less about him, which is good news, but I have a hard time keeping a frown from sliding onto my face.
My prejudice against him is a recent development, as well as a confusing one. He’s a nice guy. He could have a stronger backbone, in my opinion, but he treats Van well and seems like a decent enough kid. I love that Van is smiling right now, but I’m not sure I understand it. Every time my sister gets around Noah, or even talks about him, so much of the darkness that hovers around our family slides away. He’s great for her.
Why is she still hanging around with him, though, when Ketchup knows the truth about our family and has accepted her for who she really is? Ketchup is all Van has ever wanted, but after the night I almost killed Ivy, something has changed with her. I think she knows I wouldn’t stand in her way if she wanted to date Ketchup. Yet, she seems to be more scared than ever of taking that step. I’m not sure what Noah might have to do with that. It’s a confusing development, and one that makes me nervous.
I put theories and worries like that out of my mind when Van hurries over to me. “Sorry,” she says, “our English project is due in a few weeks, and we’re really behind on it.”
“How can you be behind on it? You’re over at his house every weekend.”
“Only for a few hours. And writing a battle scene is harder than we expected.” She shoulders her gym bag and pushes past me. “All this stupid training with David isn’t helping, either. I have a ton of math homework to do tonight, but you know he’s going to keep us out until dark. Half the time I’m with Noah, he’s helping me catch up on all my other homework.”
“Well, let’s not give David a reason to keep us any longer than he’s already planning. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, I pull into an abandoned Little League baseball field. David is already standing at center field, glaring at us, I’m sure. Neither of us were thrilled with the idea of leaving with David, but his anger at being stuck here with us was more than obvious from day one. He has done his best to make sure we know exactly how little he wants to be our babysitter.
“Ugh, he’s such a prick,” Van grumbles.
“Yeah, but he knows what he’s doing.”
Which is true. In the month that we’ve been subjected to his training methods, both of our control has improved. I still can’t be around Ketchup for more than a few minutes, and we both have various other people at school our hunger struggles with, but we’re getting better at holding it back for longer.
Other helpful tidbits David has deigned to share with us are better methods to feed our hunger with small amounts throughout the day, instead of starving ourselves to the point that we lose control. It was something I had been doing through football and Van had begun to discover with the help of Noah teaching her Jeet Kune Do, but David has been able to show us a much improved version. Now we seek out those around us experiencing mild pain. Sore muscles, a cold, minor scrapes and bruises. We feed from them in small increments throughout the day, careful to stay away from any sources of pain that might be beyond our limits.
As we stalk out among the weeds and dirt, I expect a similar lesson today. The sight of a cardboard box at David’s feet instead of the usual punching mitts and blocking pads sets my hair on end. Van slows beside me as well. David looks way too pleased at our wariness. This is not going to be pleasant.
“What’s in the box?” I ask.
David smiles his disturbing half smile. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Did you tell our grandma about this?” Van demands.
The reminder that all of his training methods must be cleared through our pastry-making grandmother sets his teeth grinding. “Of course your dear grandmother was consulted,” he says tightly.
Van relaxes a bit, but I don’t.
“You are both progressing through your basic combat training as well as can be expected,” David says, “but you will be joining me at the Godling training camp in a few weeks, and it’s time I started preparing you for what that experience will entail.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
David smirks. “I’ve been going very easy on you so far.”
Van scoffs, but he ignores her.
“Now you must truly begin to test your control.” David squats down next to the box, but doesn’t open it yet. “The two of you can smack each other around all you want. You’ve been using each other to feed and test your strength for years. What you both lack is the ability to withstand another being’s pain and suffering. That has got to change.”
I get a very sick feeling in my stomach when David lifts a mangy-looking tabby cat out of the box. I have the feeling I know exactly what he plans to do with it. Van must as well because she suddenly looks pale.
“Pain is ambrosia to our kind,” David says, “but you cannot gain power without the ability to withstand the sweet temptation of willful destruction.”
He looks both of us in the eyes, one at a time. The severity of his gaze puts me on edge.
“The real lesson begins now,” David says as his hands begin to tighten around the tabby.
Chapter Two: Zealot Belief
(Zander)
After worrying that Van was either going to vomit or pass out the whole drive home, I’m relieved to find Ketchup waiting at our house when we get there. My lit
tle sister does not run into his arms and burst into tears like other girls might after what we were just forced to endure. She simply takes his hand and lets him tow her toward the backyard. I know she hated every minute of what we just went through, but she is too tough to let David see how it really affected her. Sometimes I wish she would let loose and blow up at David, just to see if it would put a chink in his immaculate, tailored armor. Really, it’s just a very nice suit, but it might as well be plate mail as useless as Van’s anger would be against him.
Part of me is amazed that Van hasn’t lost it with David. I know she must be simmering with fury at the way he treats her and tries to control her, but she has been surprisingly compliant. Not that she’s nice to him or anything. It’s no secret that she despises David. They get into arguments frequently when it comes to daily rules and curfews. When it comes to training, though, she forces herself to do as he says without complaining, if not without questions, no matter how awful it is. I want to believe it’s because she is growing up and learning to control her temper, but I have a feeling it has to do with something else entirely.
I trudge up to the house after David. It gets under my skin once again that his need to control us has him living in our house, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I am no less sickened than Van, but I am even better practiced at tucking it away than she is. The front door swings closed behind me. I want to put David out of my mind completely and feed a more natural hunger, but when I turn into the kitchen in search of dinner, I find he had the same thought. My movements are sharp as I pull a chair out and sit down. My grandma is quietly dishing out what I’m sure is a delicious meal.
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