“You think I’m some sort of monster. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe I am. catamite, Jordy. Get your ass over here so I can make sure I didn’t burn a hole through you. Please.”
Dakarai assented and offered Jordy a chair next to me. “Control yourself.”
My eyes tried to take in every inch of Jordy. His face and arms bore streaks of soot and plaster. The gash above his eye had been stitched, but it looked like it would need another set if he expected it to heal properly.
“How are you?”
“I’ve had better days.” Jordy moved his chair closer and lowered his voice. “Jasper, I know this is hard, but I promise you that this is for the best. Mikael and Dakarai will take great care of you.”
“What do you mean? What about you?” I pursed my lips. “Cecilia and Danny?”
The big man’s shoulders sagged. “No, not me. I’m here to check on you and to say goodbye. Once I leave, I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
I liked Mikael. I was fond of Dakarai. But I’d come to rely on Jordy’s presence in my life. Even when I shut everyone out, he never pushed me. It was as if he understood that his silent companionship was enough. I couldn’t lose that too. “Don’t leave me. Please, Jordy. Don’t leave. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I’ll rebuild the gym myself. Just tell me what to do.”
“Oh, Jas, honey.” He smiled wistfully. “It’s not about that. I don’t care about the gym. That’s a weekend project. And I don’t care about my injuries. But—”
“Then what’s it about? I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. If you leave, then I’ll have lost someone else.” I broke down and cried, embarrassed and hurt. The hollow ache was akin to how I felt about losing my family, Jude especially. Jordy was a part of my life, and he was tearing me apart again. “Please?”
“You’re too emotional. There’s no place in my life or work for that kind of behavior.” Jordy pushed back his chair and stood. “I suggest you figure out a time to work out in the gym with one of your chaperones. You’ll be fine with the routines you have now. Your weapons training is suspended indefinitely.”
Jordy stuck his left hand in his pocket. “Be well and be smart, Jasper. I’m counting on you.” He reached out to touch my face but pulled back. “Goodbye.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Darkness filled my room as dusk became night. Boredom threatened to drive me mad enough to scream until someone came to check on me. At least I’d have company and something new to think about. It occurred to me a few hours ago that there was no ambient noise. Aside from the echo of heels clacking on the linoleum floor, the only sounds were the constant beeping from my heart rate monitor. If this was an infirmary, I should have heard something, anything, by now.
I’d begun to suspect that this was my new prison.
There would be no conditional release. When I was too tired to go on, I’d let myself return to that place in the light and that time. I’d leave this all behind.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Wake up, buttercup. We have much to do and little time.”
I grunted and rolled over on my side. I was weary in the way marathoners felt around the twentieth mile when they’d hit the proverbial wall and felt the weight of the last several hours. It was the make or break moment — they had to push through or give up. Whoever was in my bedroom could stay or leave for all I cared. I was going to get my rest.
“Jasper, it’s time to get up.”
I was about to object to the cheerfully insistent voice, but the coarseness and cheap feel of the pillowcase warned me that something was off. My bed engulfed me and kept me cocooned with soft sheets that smelled faintly like lemon. This mattress was thin and flimsy, allowing the metal springs to dig into my already aching back. It was an itchy, pain inflicting cage.
The problem was that I couldn’t remember why I was imprisoned. All I knew was that I no longer trusted anyone. Jordy was gone. Daniel and Cecilia were gone, not that it was any great loss. Danny still loathed me, and Cecilia was a decent shopping companion but nothing more.
“Go away,” I mumbled as I hugged the Styrofoam pillow that had gone flat from too many heads seeking and probably not finding comfort. “Don’t wanna.”
Dakarai’s voice took on a resonance that vibrated through my being. “Child quit your foolish stubbornness. Unless you desire to remain confined indefinitely, you must demonstrate control.”
I cracked open an eyelid and stared at my mentor. For the first time since we’d met some months ago, Dakarai looked tired and frazzled. Gone were the cashmere sweaters and purposely obnoxious sneakers. A well-loved hooded sweatshirt and jeans with paint splatters had taken their places. His normally bald head was covered in a dark brown fuzz. Dakarai hadn’t slept because someone needed to make sure I didn’t lose my temper. He likely hadn’t left this room in the bowels of the Order’s compound.
“The only way I’m getting up is if there’s a shower, breakfast, and my bed in my immediate future.”
Dakarai smiled. “You will have the shower and breakfast, but the bed must wait. It is too dangerous to teach you how to use your abilities right now. Truthfully,” he said, “I haven’t figured out how to teach you how to master each ability. Guiding you on how to use all three in concert is inconceivable at this point.”
I yawned and sat up against the protests of creaking joints and tight muscles. Then it hit me. Someone had removed my restraints. I whooped for joy. Freedom! No more rope burn! Peeing in something other than a bedpan! Oh, the little pleasures in life.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Just about thirty-six hours. But don’t give it a second thought. You’re awake, and we can begin the next phase of your training.”
“When can we leave? Can I use a bathroom? Thirty-six hours is a killer on the bladder.”
“Of course.” Dakarai held my hands as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tested them. The effects of inertia seriously challenged my newly sculpted calves; still, they trembled and would have held, but my ankles had another plan. They explicitly told me to screw myself and gave out.
Dakarai caught me a split second before I had an up-close-and-personal meeting with the floor, which was great considering the layer of grime. I knew I’d have nightmares about the origins of those rust-colored sticky puddles and smears of ash. Suddenly, my need for the bathroom was even more pressing. I was going to relieve myself and throw up. The order was unimportant.
I hated anyone seeing me this weak. Not too long ago, I’d been dangerous enough for restraints and isolation. Now, I was a pitiful thing that needed to be carried and placed on the toilet.
Dakarai was nothing if not respectful and kind. He settled me on the porcelain throne and backed out of the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, I sighed with relief, as did my bladder. For a moment, my life was simple and good. Then I stood and met my reflection in the mirror.
Holy hell in a hand basket.
Not even after a week of stomach poisoning had I looked this bad. My greasy, tangled hair was the best of it. Dark circles under my eyes were the most prominent feature on a face that was oily, pimply, and haggard. I lifted an arm and immediately wished I hadn’t because I reeked.
Poor Dakarai had been putting up with this for the last two days. And I’d just probably hit him with major dragon breath. Every ounce of me wanted to crawl into the fetal position until something changed. But that wasn’t an option. Dakarai was speaking to me through the door, asking if I was okay and if I needed assistance.
Having him place me on the toilet had been embarrassing enough. If I were going to regain my equilibrium, I needed to brush my teeth without interference.
“I understand,” he said, his tone indicating that he didn’t, in fact, understand. “But please be quick about it. Some matters require our immediate attention.”
The simple pleasure of having a clean mouth and a washed face infused me with the confidence to take the next steps in this crazy adventure. I staggered back through th
e door and into Dakarai’s arms. He slipped an arm under my shoulders and helped me walk back to bed where I found a pair of leggings and a t-shirt.
“Thank you. I’ll feel human again once I shower. Can we leave now?”
Dakarai sighed. “In a moment. We are waiting on Mikael to return with — ”
“Always with the summoning,” Mikael said dryly. He walked into the room pushing a wheelchair. “I am better than your Beetlejuice, da? Jasper! It’s wonderful to see you awake.”
“A wheelchair,” I said numbly, “You’re making me leave in a wheelchair?”
“Da, Milaya. We must also restrain you for the time being. Just until we return you to your rooms.”
It wasn’t worth the tears, so I remained silent as I dressed with my back turned to them and allowed them to use the thick ropes to bind my hands, legs, and chest.
✽ ✽ ✽
It occurred to me as I towel dried my hair that normalcy was now a thing of the past. This was uncharted territory for all of us, so expectations were useless. I dressed in a practical pair of jeans and a warm long-sleeved shirt and tried to convince myself that staying awake was the best course of action. One last look in the mirror confirmed that my appearance was as close to normal as I could hope.
Mikael and Dakarai spoke in hushed voices in my small living area. It sounded ominous. I coughed loudly to give them time to wrap up their conversation. They both smiled and told me I looked refreshed. Mikael bustled around my kitchenette and served me a plate of eggs, bacon, and grapes.
“Sorry. I am not sure what you like to eat. Try?” Mikael patted my shoulder then took a huge step backward. I ate in silence, hoping they’d continue their conversation. Not for the first time that day, I was sorely disappointed.
“Is this going to be a thing? You two gawking at me while I do the mundane? Because I should warn you right now that I take a really long time giving myself pedicures. You might want to get coffee for those nights.”
Mikael diverted his gaze and rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide his growing smile. Dakarai, however, scowled.
“Humor does not have a place in your training. Not anymore. You must commit yourself fully to these studies.” He raised his voice as his words jumbled together. “Jasper, I don’t know what will happen to you if you don’t gain control.”
“Do you know about the boy?” Mikael crossed his arms. “Dakarai, did you not tell her?”
My breakfast was on its way to a second appearance. There was a boy? I didn’t know anyone except the Circle members and I hadn’t seen anyone but them in several days.
“What boy? What didn’t anyone tell me?”
Dakarai and Mikael exchanged the same looks little boys share when they’re debating who would speak on behalf of their guilty friends. Mikael sliced his head to the side.
I was reasonably sure that was his way of saying “not it.”
Dakarai harrumphed. “Coward.”
“I never claimed otherwise, my friend. So?”
“Will one of you start talking? Who is this boy? What happened?”
I recognized their apprehension. It was the same fear they had shown when they’d revealed my restraints. Right. I was the ticking time bomb. “Don’t worry. I’m calm.”
Dakarai took a few fortifying breaths. “We didn’t tell you earlier because you were distraught enough over Jordy. He wasn’t the only person injured.”
“What? Where? Who? Are they okay?”
“There was a young boy, Ismael. He’d wandered downstairs in search of the children’s indoor playground. Ismael was walking past the gym door when you lost control. The door blew outward.” Dakarai stopped and hung his head.
“No. Oh, god. Please tell me he’s okay. Can I see him? His parents? What can I do?”
Mikael shook his head. “I’m sorry. Ismael died on impact.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE COMPLEX, the funeral of Ismael Cordova had just begun. I was told that funerals within the Order were formal affairs complete with specific rituals. Everyone within the compound had been invited except me.
A cacophony of bells rose from the lowest levels of the Order and filled Quasimodo’s Tower with an awful reverberation. It was the saddest piece of music I’d ever heard. The high and low notes sounded like a mother and father’s wails for their dead child. It was the sound of unimaginable heartache being expressed through the only means it had.
Ismael’s family had been told that their son’s death had been a terrible accident, a freak explosion caused by a faulty hydraulics system within the walls. A few minor incidents had been staged within that area to create the appearance of a more substantial malfunction. The High Council and the Circle didn’t want anyone to suspect that a person was behind Ismael’s death.
Mikael had told me that the Cordovas were planning to leave the Order after they wrapped up their affairs in New York. They’d decided that they’d rather take their chances in the outside world, especially now that their son was gone.
A little boy was dead because I lacked self-control. A family was torn apart and ripped from their friends and home because I’d lost my temper. I was the Grim Reaper. I’d killed my family. I had probably killed people at the police station back home.
To keep my role in the accident a secret, the Circle agreed to confine me to the Tower, and the facilities attached to it indefinitely. The only spaces that were off-limits to the inquisition were my bedroom and bathroom. To the rest of the Order, I was gone: either a hazy memory or no one at all.
No one blamed me directly, but we all knew that Ismael would have been alive if it hadn’t been for me. I assumed that was why Jordy refused to see me or respond to messages. I tried to see him, but they’d taken to locking my door from the outside.
Earlier I’d heard Jordy’s voice outside of Dakarai’s rooms. I begged him to talk to me, to at least update me on his injuries. I asked when we could train again.
He walked away without responding.
So I waited.
Hours went by without anyone coming to visit. I was going crazy. After my attempts at reading yet another barely intelligible tome from Dakarai proved futile, I tried writing in my journal.
Dear diary,
I am a psychotic bitch and a child killer. Only I have split personalities, and I’m not sure which one was guilty of that particular crime. I also injured one of my only friends pals training buddies regular companions, and he’s no longer talking to me. Did I mention I killed a child? Yours truly, Jasper
“Screw that.” I hurled the leather-bound journal across the room. Grim satisfaction flooded me when it upended the lamp and caused it to shatter into a million pieces.
My ears perked up as I heard the elevator open at the far end of the corridor. They were back. It was small comfort to know that I was no longer alone.
I resumed my perch next to the door that led into the shared hallway and closed my eyes.
Dakarai sighed with the weariness of Atlas himself. “We will not discuss this in front of Jasper.”
“Da, da. I understand, but I must speak with her.”
“Right now?” I imagined the disbelief etched on Jordy’s face matched his tone. “Why?”
Mikael made an impatient sound. “She has been alone for hours with her thoughts. I cannot erase what happened, but one of us should try to ease her mind. Since you will not—”
Jordy growled. “It’s a dead horse. Do your job or drop it.”
“I suggest,” Dakarai said, raising his voice above the others, “that we each return to our corners and take some time to think about everything. Mikael, we can see Jasper at dinnertime.”
“Fine.”
“Do you want to say anything to her?”
“Do I want to talk to her? Of course. Will I? No. There’s too much at risk right now. I can’t do my job if I’m…” Jordy exhaled deeply. “You understand. Tell her I… never mind. Call me tomorrow.”
✽ ✽ ✽
&nb
sp; My dreams resembled a horror movie. I was the hidden menace, the girl next door who begged for help until almost everyone was dead. I was the girl who knifed that last survivor in the back and laughed. Each scene was worse than the last, and it played on a constant loop.
The paranoia and high emotions caused by the LSD fog raged through my system. I screamed as I trashed the gym, but it wasn’t enough. I turned my back to Jordy and focused that white-hot energy at the door behind me, I stood over Ismael’s his mangled body and walked away.
I saw myself choosing to unleash the entirety of my power and creating a blast that leveled the better part of Manhattan. Thousands lay dead at my feet while I walked around and pilfered their belongings. I walked into Nordstrom’s and clapped with the joy of a woman set free in a department store with no limits. The pooling bodily fluids were an excuse to buy as many new boots as I pleased.
Alone in the meadow behind my parents’ home, I cursed them for pawning me off to strangers — the rage built in my chest. I cried out in a fury and thrust my hands toward my unsuspecting family. My laugh echoed the detritus of my parents’ home as it rained down around me.
That last dream was so horrific that I fought my way to consciousness. My voice was hoarse from screaming in my sleep. I was soaked with sweat and close to vomiting. After I stripped and tossed my sheets into the hamper, I turned on my shower. The spray was viciously cold as I scrubbed myself raw. I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted because the loathing and guilt were sticky layers that went deep into my skin.
Too wired and too cold to go back to bed, I curled up on my couch and began to wonder if this was my punishment. It was easy to imagine the High Council passing a sentence of solitary confinement with Dakarai as my jailer and Mikael as my secondary handler. They’d wait for me to go insane and kill myself.
It seemed like a fair sentence for my crimes.
✽ ✽ ✽
The world woke slowly. The elevator at the end of the corridor whined as its gears readied for the first trip of the day. Across the hall, I heard Dakarai wake and turn on his television to a political talk show while he puttered around his apartment. He sang to himself as he did whatever it was he did first thing in the morning. It may not have been company, but it was soothing enough to lull me into a dreamless sleep.
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