Victor (The Eden East Novels Book 2)

by Sacha Black

  “I need your help.”

  I laugh, but it’s more of an indignant snort. “Help? You tried to kill me and Trey for that matter.”

  His turn to snort, “Are you kidding me? You actually did kill me.”

  “Fair point. Doesn’t mean I’m helping you. Do you really expect me to trust you after everything that’s happened?”

  “No. But given you knifed me. In. My. Actual. Beating. Heart. I expect you to at least let me show you what’s going on.”

  “Fine.”

  The darkness glimmers, lights and colors swirl into focused images, reminding me of mine and Victor’s final Earth simulator exam at Keepers School.

  A tall slender woman stands on a set of spiraling stairs crying. Her skin is as smooth as silk and deep brown. Her lips are perfectly pointed and atop her head is a mop of pure white curls. She’s stunning.

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  “She’s the first,” Victor says.

  “The first?”

  “The first of many things but specifically, the first anomaly. She’s like me, an Unpredicted.”

  “I said who, not what.” I squint at the image, wishing I could make Victor’s brain zoom in. There’s something about the curve of her face that’s familiar.

  “She is one of the First Children. You’re looking at Karva Arigenza.”

  “When you say first, you mean like…”

  I search my brain for my history lessons, trying to remember the names and order of the First Children: Darique came first, he was born to Rozalyn and was the first Elemental. Then, Rueben, he was Cecilia’s first child and the first Shifter. Then Cecilia had Karva, the first Siren, followed by Aurora who was Rozalyn’s and last was Clarissa, Cecilia’s third and final child; she was the first Sorcerer.

  “Yes,” he says, with an air of smug in his voice, “I mean the first ever Siren.”

  I give a low whistle. “But, I don’t understand,” I reach to scratch my head and remember that inside here, I have no head, or hand for that matter. “Why is she an anomaly?”

  “Because like the First and Last Fallon, the First Children are meant to be immortal. Only Aurora killed Karva,” Victor says, his voice drifting around my back as if he’s walking behind me.

  “But the others died too. Aurora’s the only one left alive. How come they’re not anomalies too?”

  “Because an anomaly only occurs once. Karva’s death changed the Balance. After, the deaths of the other children became part of the Balance’s plan. Once any kind of anomaly occurs, the Balance readjusts itself onto a new path.”

  My head swims with information as I try and put the pieces together.

  “Why are you showing me her?”

  “Because you need to bring her back.”

  “What do you mean, bring her back? How is that even possible?”

  “Don’t worry about how for now…” There’s a scuffle and a squeezing sensation, like Victor’s stiffened.

  “What’s going on?” I say.

  “Rozalyn’s coming. I have to be quick. She wants me to open the door for her to walk through. The only way to shut it is to have a certain type of soul walk through it instead. So, I’m giving you a choice. Rozalyn or Karva?”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a choice.”

  “Would you rather I let Rozalyn through?”

  “Obviously not. But why Karva? What’s in it for you?”

  “She’s…Shit.”

  There’s a shuffling, more muffled swearing, and I’m yanked backward and into the dim light of the library.

  Victor blinks at me, his eyes wide with a hardened stare. This time, his coded warning is loud and clear.

  “Eden, dear…” Victor says, his voice strained, higher pitched. It’s not him.

  “Your Majesty?”

  Victor’s mouth peels backward, displaying yellowed incisors. His face convulses, Rozalyn’s appearing over it like images flashing through TV static. Her face fades in and out of focus. But her blood red eyes remain solid, and they bore so hard into mine that I’m frozen to the spot.

  “Are you ready to join me and fulfill your prophecy?” she asks.

  “I…,” I shift on the spot, hot under her gaze. Something is stopping me agreeing. There are too many unknowns, too many questions.

  “It’s fine, dear; you don’t need to decide now. In fact,” Victor leans down, bringing her face closer to mine. The coldness in her eyes oozes into my body, making me shiver. “You don’t have to help me at all. But if you don’t, try not to get in my way. Prophecy or not, I’m going to destroy my sister.”

  Victor snaps back into a standing position, “Hurry up, Victor dear,” he says in the Last Fallon’s strained tones. He gives me a pained look, reaches for a book on the shelf, and then his black wings slink out of his back and over his skin shrinking his body down until he vanishes from sight, taking the book with him.

  I stagger back to where I left Trey, my stomach rolling with the nausea Victor promised. I wipe my sweaty brow and cling to each table as I stumble toward Trey. Bile clogs the back of my throat. My knuckles whiten where I’m gripping the tabletops. What the kind of magic did Victor use? There’s a beeping, and I’m vaguely aware it’s a CogTracker. I stagger across the rug, reaching the seats I left Trey in, and freeze.

  It was my CogTracker, and he’s standing over it, his face pale, eyes full of tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I don’t have to look at my tracker to know what he’s staring at. “I’m sorry,” I mumble again. I lean on the table, the floor swaying underneath me.

  “You couldn’t leave it alone?” Trey says, anger burning through his voice. “Not only did you not drop it, you’re actually searching for her?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.

  “And worst of all, you’re using Hermia to do it. Hermia? Dammit, Eden.”

  “Trey, please,” I say, but my stomach rolls again, and I scout the area for a bin. “Let me explain,” I say as I stumble toward it.

  “Don’t bother,” he says, and storms out of the library, leaving me clinging to the bin.

  “Trey…Wait,” I shout. But he’s gone, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I heave over the bin and empty my stomach.

  Sixteen

  ‘Dream Fever – An infection of the dream. A hallucinatory nightmare that’s impossible to wake from. Dream fever causes the fracturing and separation of consciousness, subconsciousness, and dream state, trapping the mind in a permanent nightmare until the body starves and death occurs.’

  From the Annals of Sorcery

  I get up and grab my CogTracker, which Trey left open on the coffee table, Hermia’s CogMail still on display like an accusation.

  “Eden? Is everything okay?” Bo asks, appearing from the central aisles. Her eyes furrow, “You’re green.”

  “Dodgy food,” I mumble, grabbing my belongings. “Going home. Catch up tomorrow.”

  She flashes me a dirty look for abandoning her, but I leave before she has a chance to stop me. I have to call Trey and apologize, but the thought of explaining makes my stomach churn like I’m on one of those absurd human rollercoasters. I stumble out of the library, across the foyer, and out the front doors.

  For a few seconds, the cool touch of night air makes the nausea settle, but then I take a step forward, and it comes rushing back. I dash to the closest dumpster and throw up. When I recover, I open my CogTracker and scroll to find Trey’s number.

  It rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. I redial immediately. But this time it goes to voicemail after just one ring. I let out a frustrated shout, which turns into a gagging session as bile crawls up my throat. He’s not going to pick up, so I switch to CogMessages.

  Trey, I AM so sorry. Please know I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally. You thought you were doing the right thing when you took my memories, and as much as you disagree, I believe I’m doing the right thing now. I was going to tell you, but the right moment never
came up. Please don’t be mad. I love you… In all the lifetimes.

  Three dots appear as I take a steady walk back down the hill toward Stratera station. There’s no way he’d go back to our dorm. Not if he’s this angry with me, and I doubt he’s gone back to the bar either because that’s the first place I’d look. My guess is he’s heading for his mansion. The dots stop, but no message appears. So I type out a second message.

  I know you’re there. Talk to me. Don’t shut me out because I made a mistake. We have a lot of years left together, and it’s going to be an awfully long time if we spend it in silence. Neither of us are perfect; we’re both going to mess up over and over again. But I’ll still love you anyway, and I hope you’ll love me…

  The dots appear and disappear again. The muscles in my neck flex although I’m not sure if it’s frustration or the urge to vomit. I decide to change tactic. No matter how annoyed he is with me, I know our Binding will bring him back eventually, but I want him to want to come back.

  You can’t ignore me forever…

  …I’m far too cute.

  Finally, he replies.

  Ha.

  There’s a pause. But then a second message arrives.

  You are. But I’m still angry with you. I’ve gone to the mansion, please don’t come after me, I need some space. I promise I’ll come find you tomorrow.

  There’s another pause, and then a third message appears.

  I still love you. T x

  I reach the station and come to a stop. My legs feel like bricks, and a wave of exhaustion hits me. Victor warned I might be tired once he threw me out of his head. I’d walked this way thinking I was going to find Trey. I glance back at his messages, toying with going to the mansion anyway. But then I remember the cannon ball of emotions he shared with me in the Council foyer; I decide to respect his request and give him the space to process.

  I scroll to the offending message from Hermia.

  From: Hermilda.Endlesquire@TrackerServices.com

  Subject: RE: Lost & Found??

  To: Eden.East@FallonCogMail.com

  I didn’t like to mention it in the library, and I know you’ll be furious, but this whole thing is getting ridiculous. I caught up with Cassian after the Libra meeting.

  Dammit, Hermia. I didn’t want to involve anyone else.

  He confirmed my suspicions; Lani did strip herself of her essence, and that’s why I can’t locate her…

  He also said he would be willing to take you to see her.

  Think about it before you say no, and for Trutinor’s sake, tell Trey. He needs to know.

  H

  I slam the CogTracker shut and glance at the station clock; it’s nearly 1:30AM. I drag myself onto the next train heading into Siren City. Trey might not be at the bar, but that’s exactly where I’m going. I’m tired, fed up, and in need of a drink.

  The public steam trains are basic at best. The carriages are cold. No matter what State you’re in, an icy chill seems to grip the brittle walls. Our private trains have expensive heating and cooling systems and insulated walls; these trains do not. But this time, I’m grateful for the cool air because as the tiredness grips my body, it will get harder to stay awake. I don’t want to sleep. Not when my dreams are full of blood and ruin. And definitely not when I’ve just been inside Victor’s head. I sit on a hard-wooden seat, which creaks under my weight. The cushion backs are frayed and puff out a cloud of dust when I poke them. My nose wrinkles as I inhale stale air. It’s an unpleasant mix of old sweat and fast food. I flip open my CogTracker. There’s a message from Nyx; I press play, and her bright face and green cat-eyes appear in the screen.

  “Eden, darling,” she says, and wipes her hand over her face like a cat cleaning itself.

  I frown, there’s no doubting this time - her birthmark is definitely darker. Instead of pale orange, it’s a deep brown. I hope she’s not sick.

  “I’m so happy you agreed to come home. I’m having your room revamped. I thought it would help, a new start so to speak. If you like, I can overhaul the entire tower? I know you said you weren’t ready to come back, so I’m going to box your parents’ belongings and move them into storage until you’re ready to go through them. I’m hoping that will make it easier for you to come home…”

  Her eyes bug wide, her black hair sticking on end.

  “I mean, if that’s not what you want, I won’t touch anything. You might want to do it yourself. I just want you to be happy and comfortable coming home.”

  She looks away from the screen. Blinks a few times, and then shakes herself.

  “When you come back in a couple of weeks, you’re going to need to make a decision on your East State Council members. I know we went through suggestions on the train, but you didn’t make any definitive choices. You need your own Council, honey, especially while you’re at Stratera. They can take the brunt of the local work, and you can sign things off in batches here, or Titus can courier things to you weekly during the term. There’s one more thing…”

  She pauses for breath, then continues,

  “…There’s trouble brewing on the border again. Rumblings of Shifter attacks. We need you to review the peace keeper strategies for the borders with Trey. Did he talk to Bo? I’ll send the strategies by encrypted CogMail…

  She pauses; her lips flutter as if she wants to say something but isn’t sure how. She shifts behind the camera.

  “I’m very proud of you, Eden. I just needed you to know. I know I’ve been tough on you and expecting a lot. But I want you to know how proud I am. Sometimes we don’t say these things enough. But I am so very proud of you, and I love you with all my heart, darling.”

  I’m not entirely sure what to make of her message. I reply, telling her how thoughtful I think it is that she’s redecorating the tower and giving me a chance to recover before I have to sort through my parents’ stuff. I sign it off asking if she’s okay because she doesn’t seem herself. But I don’t expect a reply any time soon; it’s nearly 2AM.

  By the time the train reaches Siren City, the exhaustion is making every step like trudging through drying cement. The city is asleep, the streets quiet save for the occasional late night drinker stumbling home.

  When I reach Luchelli Lane, my t-shirt is wet, and I’m dripping with sweat. This deep in the valley, there’s no wind to cool you down. My heart sinks when I scan the street: it’s dark. I check my CogTracker; it’s 2:30AM. I hoped they’d still be open but they must have shut for the night. The red glow that spills onto the street, and the regulars who fill the cobbles with their laughing and chatting are gone. The lane is desolate, except for the remnants of overpowering perfume, discarded drinks, and tacky patches on the ground. I kick a stray bottle in frustration and slouch on a pile of chairs chained to the shop next door to Trey’s bar. I’m so tired, and all I wanted was a drink to wash away the guilt.

  I lean my head against the wall. I must fall asleep because the next thing I see is a pure white flash, and then I’m standing atop Stratera hill looking down at Siren City. I turn around; the academy is no longer the building I remember but made of bone and crystal. The two towers that usually stand either side of the main block are shaped like enormous tusks lancing the clouds. The building between them is made of a strange crystal that shimmers, not like the sparkle of the sun on the ocean’s surface, but like the glint of something sinister in the First Fallon’s eye.

  Keepers emerge from the buildings. All of them silent, their skin the color of dried ash and bone. Their faces devoid of any expression, their eyes locked on the floor. They move in couples and uniform steps.

  What is this place?

  As a couple passes in front of me, the girl’s head snaps up. “Help us,” she says. Before I can answer, there’s a piercing scream. But none of the Keepers around me turn to investigate, they just continue trudging on to wherever they were going.

  I find the source of the scream: it’s Lani. Her bronzed skin is pale, her face smothered in tears as she loo
ks up at the tusk-shaped towers.

  At first, I can’t understand why she’s crying; then I squint up at the towers. There’s a limp body broken over the top of the tusk, skewered through the chest, arms hanging slack, blood seeping down the tusk’s ivory exterior. It’s Trey. A guttural scream rips through my chest.

  “Eden?” a disembodied voice echoes around the street, drawing me out of my panic.

  “Eden,” it calls again, “wake up. Wake up now.”

  The dream collapses into darkness, and I’m pulled, no, yanked into consciousness. My eyes open, and I gasp for breath.

  There’s a woman holding my arm. She’s breathtaking. Her face is covered in freckles, which make her vibrant green eyes stand out even in the dim street light. The only blemish on her freckled face is a thin scar on her forehead that I think is her essence scar – three circles that connect in the center. As she steps closer, a few loose strands fall from the messy knot her chocolate brown hair is tied in, and her bohemian trousers tinkle like bells as she moves. But the strangest thing about her is the series of markings on her arm. Shapes and symbols cut into the skin. Some of them are faded, but others are raw like they’re fresh cuts.

  She smiles at me and nods to the shapes. “They’re my dreamers,” she says as if I know what that means. “It’s nice to meet you officially, Eden.” She holds out her hand, which I shake, trying to rid my brain of its sleep addled state.

  “Sheridan?” I say, tentatively. She looks totally different. The woman I saw in the bar last summer was a shell, frail and willowy. Felicia has done an amazing job healing her.

  Sheridan smiles, “You were having a nightmare. Figured I’d help you out.”

  “I appreciate it, thank you,” I say.

  Felicia steps out of the bar, locks the door, and grins as she spots Sheridan. She bounces over to her, clearly not spotting me leaning against the wall in the shadows. She throws her arms around Sheridan and locks her lips onto hers.