by Ramy Vance
Seth nodded, pursing his lips with a solemn resolve. “Then prepare to lose much.”
“Seth, please—tell me what’s going on. Please.”
“I can’t, Kat. I was made to take an oath.”
“By who?”
“Who do you think?” he said, gesturing behind him.
Shit, Others and their oaths. They took those kinds of things very seriously, and little could make them break it. Torture, threatening loved ones, even death would not move an Other to break an oath.
But the flip side to that was Others did not make an oath unless they didn’t believe it absolutely necessary. This apu—this protector—took his oath because he believed keeping whatever secret he held would do more good than harm.
“OK,” I said. “I will not ask you again. But I cannot go. Not until I know for sure that my presence is truly bad luck that will bring ruin here. Once I know that for sure, I will either do what I must to help, or I will leave.”
“By then it will be too late.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “Bad luck and fate rarely end in carnivals and parties.”
Seth smirked. “Indeed. The gods were sadistic when creating such concepts. Very well, but know that should things progress, I will do whatever I must to protect my brothers.”
A threat? Absolutely. He had chosen this frat house and its members as his to protect. That meant he would go to the farthest extremes to shield them from danger.
Even if it meant killing someone he considered a friend.
“I understand.”
“Good.” He nodded behind me. “It seems you have attracted some of that bad luck already. He will be home soon. I can sense him.”
And with that, the apu went inside to leave me alone, waiting for Justin. Given that he just told me I had attracted more bad luck, I could only assume that when Justin did turn up, he wouldn’t be alone.
I waited for about an hour, alone and cold, until I saw Justin. He was holding the hand of the beautiful redhead, and she too looked surprised.
As soon as they saw me, his mouth opened wide in shock and surprise.
So did hers, only her surprise carried with it a hint of sadness, too.
“Hi Justin,” I said, my eyes fixated on their clasped hands. “I see you’ve been busy.”
CHEATING BOYFRIENDS AND BAD BREAKUPS
J ustin’s hand let go of the other girl’s, and I expected the typical groveling that you see in the movies. You know, the, “Kat—it’s not what you think” or, “She means nothing.”
But the trouble with movies is that script writers don’t seem to live real lives, because things rarely go down the way they say they do.
Instead of guilt, instead of begging, he just locked eyes with me and said, “Where have you been?”
If he said it with a Scottish accent, circa 1808, he would have been my father.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Where the hell have you been?”
“Funny you should use that word …”
“No jokes, Kat. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I can see that.” I looked over at the girl by his side, who stared at me with eyes that held a mix of guilt and shame … and admiration. I shook that last thought off. There wasn’t any admiration there—she was a boyfriend-stealing skank, plain and simple.
Then again, Justin might not have told her about me …
If Justin remembered that there was another woman by his side, he made no indication of it. His gaze was firmly locked on me. And in his eyes I saw something that I’d never seen before.
Fury.
But not the kind of petulant fury that young men have when the world doesn’t treat them the way they think it should. This was an aged fury that was reserved for those who had experienced terrible things and knew that the world was wholly indifferent to their needs.
He looked older.
More cynical.
Like these last few weeks had aged him well beyond his nineteen years.
Not that any of that mattered now. Now we were having a lover’s spat that would most likely end in our breakup, so I was in full, get-in-my-jabs-while-the-getting’s-good mode. “And I see you know how to use a bow. When did that happen?”
“A lot has happened since you left.”
“I’ve only been gone for a few weeks, Justin. You were shooting that thing like you were born with it.”
He unslung his bow and casually walked to the front porch, placing it down there with an unnerving confidence. “I’ve been training.”
“I’ve trained a lot in my life. Trust me, you don’t get that good that quick. You can’t.”
Justin’s hands were on the railing of the porch. He was squeezing the old wood like he was channeling his rage into it. It was as if he knew that letting go of the banister would result in him lashing out at me, maybe even trying to hurt me.
This wasn’t the Justin I knew.
As angry as Justin could get, I never sensed any violence in him. He was the blue-eyed, happy-go-lucky kid who just wanted to help out and do good.
This Justin was something else.
“Something different,” I muttered, and looking at the girl who hadn’t moved, said, “I suspect you have something to do with it?”
She lifted an awkward hand in a weird kind of wave. “Hi, I’m Isabella. Isa to my friends.”
“So, Isabella,” I snipped. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but …”
She seemed sad I didn’t call her Isa. “Nice to meet you, too,” she said, forcing a smile.
“So you’re an Other.”
“How … How did you know?” She was touching her face, feeling around for some telltale sign that might have given her away.
“The wave. Your ridiculous reaction to seeing me. You clearly know who I am, but you don’t act like you do. You don’t act like any normal human would in this situation.”
Isabella nodded. “I know. I’ve just been in situations like this so often. I mean, not that often. But enough times to know that if I beg for your forgiveness, it’ll only infuriate you more. And if I run, you’ll feel justified in your hatred. But if I stand here and treat this situation for what it is, then eventually you’ll let go.”
“And what is this situation, exactly?”
“Justin must choose,” she said in a flat tone. She wanted him to choose her. That was obvious. But she’d also accept if he didn’t.
I shook my head. “No, I’m not something that he gets to decide on. No one chooses me. I choose them.” There was an old hate in me when I said that. Something I hadn’t really felt since my vampire days.
When I was the hunter, I chose my victims with a kind of detached malevolence. Like it was my privilege to kill them. That sense of privilege was pouring out of me with all its shades of ugly.
Justin snorted. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You chose them. And you chose me. Then you un-chose me. And now you’re back because … what? You want me again? You’re playing with me like I’m some kind of toy or something.”
He still held onto the banister, his back to me, and I could sense the pain he was feeling. That hit me like a wave of heat, and I realized the old demon in me was rearing its ugly head.
That wasn’t me. Not anymore … right?
I let out a long sigh as my voice softened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, you didn’t mean to say it out loud like that. Maybe it was one of your quirky, out-loud thoughts, or just that you wanted to hurt Isa and me … but wherever it came from, you’re telling the truth. You really do think you get to choose.”
With those last words, I knew I had lost. Lost him. Lost the right to be hurt and angry about all this. I was the bad guy in this little exchange. The one who left him after the dybbuk demon possessed him. The one who went away without a word and stayed gone for weeks. And now I was the one who expected all to be forgiven just because I wanted it to be so.
“I’m sorry.” I lifted my he
ad up to stop a tear from escaping. “You’re right. I’m being an asshole. I should—”
“No,” he growled, letting go of the banister as he turned to face me. As soon as his hands were off the wooden rail, I saw indents in the shape of his fingers. He had held onto the railing so hard he’d squeezed the wood, molding it under his grip. Sure the wood was old, but still … when the hell did he get so strong?
“No,” he repeated. “You don’t even get to be the apologetic bitch who owns her mistakes so you feel better about yourself. All you get to do is leave. Leave, leave. Leave!”
The last word came out with such hatred that I swear the GoneGods must have heard. “OK,” I said, my voice low. “I’ll go. For what it’s worth, I’m—”
But before I could finish my words, he stomped up the steps and went inside.
The girl, Isabella, didn’t move.
“What? Not going in?” I said. “I think we know who he chose.”
The beautiful Other shook her head. “He hasn’t chosen. All he has decided right now is that he does not want to choose you. But the passion he has for you—the anger—can only come from true love. He loves you still,” she said, “and until that is tempered, he will always choose you, even when bedding me.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion. What brutal honesty. What an ability to see things as they are and not as you want them to be. What kind of Other is she?
Isabella looked at me. “Thank you,” she said. Damn it. Out loud again. “I am an encantado from the Amazon. And although you may not believe this, the only reason Justin even caught my attention was because of you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You are so confident even though you lost just as much as I did.”
“So you know what I was before the gods left,” I said. “Justin tell you?”
“I know because, much like what you said about me, you, too, have your awkward, non-human ways.”
“Humph,” I said, a wee bit hurt. I always prided myself on being an excellent poker player, hiding my hand. Seems I wasn’t as good at that as I thought.
“And despite having lost your immortality, you are so …”—she searched for the word—“complete.”
“I don’t know about that.” Staring at her, I saw not only beauty, but an unbridled intelligence. Like she thought on another level. No, that’s not right. It was as if she could think on multiple levels at once. I could see what Justin liked about her.
Hell, I was starting to like her.
“And part of that completeness comes because of him.” She nodded at the frat house.
“Well, that’s over now.”
She shook her head. “No, that is far from over.”
It was a bit weird getting a pep talk from Isabella, given that she clearly had feelings for Justin and wanted me out of the picture. “Ahh, you have a good shot, too,” I said.
What the hell was I doing encouraging her?
She smiled. “Thank you. I do. But not today. Today he needs to be alone to contemplate his desires.”
“Whatever,” I said, coming to my sense. “Like I said, I out. I’m not someone to be chosen, and even if I did want him back and he wanted me … we’re no good together. I’m no good for him. I only bring him pain.”
“Perhaps.”
What? No more encouraging words? And after I gave her a wee pep talk …
I shook my head. “OK, as much as I’m enjoying this little … whatever this is … I think I should leave.” I took two steps before the little nag in the back of my head took over. “Isa … I mean, Isabella. How did he get so good with a bow? And strong, too?”
“He’s joined the World Army Cadet program,” she said, her face painted with the same concern I was feeling. “Their training is intensive. They use cutting-edge technology—VR, and other stuff—to enhance their abilities.”
“I’ve heard about VR training, but it can’t give them that,” I said, looking at the banister.
She looked at the warped wood and nodded. “No … no, it can’t.”
GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM
“I can’t believe he’s already with someone else,” I said. “Sure, it’s been close to five weeks since I last saw Justin, but let me debunk a myth for you all—time does not heal all wounds.”
“Five weeks isn’t time,” Egya snickered. “Not when you’re three hundred years old. You operate on another timescale.”
“So how long until this icky feeling goes away?”
Egya shrugged. “A decade?”
“I don’t have a decade.”
“Do you wish me to rip off his treacherous arms and beat this new lover with them?” Deirdre said.
“Yes.”
Deirdre stood up.
“No, no … I was joking.”
Deirdre looked me up and down with suspicious eyes. “Were you? You wear no smile, and your body is tense like one who waits for battle.”
“You know, you have a very simplistic way of seeing things, my changeling friend.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“Are you sure?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Another mirthless joke, perhaps?”
“Yeah, another mirthless joke.”
There was cackle from the corner of our room. Egya was sitting on Deirdre’s bed, practicing elongating and retracting his fingertips into claws. “You did break up with him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I know … but it wasn’t a breakup breakup. It was a ‘We need a break’ breakup.”
“This is feeling like a rerun of one of the worst subplots in Friends all over again.”
“Friends?” Deirdre said. “We are all friends here, are we not?”
“It’s a TV show.”
“Friends on TV. Friends in real life.” She touched my shoulder.
Deciding not to explain the whole Ross and Rachael debacle, I just nodded. “Friends forever.”
Deirdre crossed her hands over her chest and bowed in a solemn, very serious manner. “Friends forever.”
“OK, enough of this,” I said. “I just broke up with my boyfriend. And human-made movies all say the same thing when a beautiful girl like me needs to mend her heart … time to go dancing.”
Egya smirked. “I thought it was Häagen-Dazs.”
“No, silly,” I chuckled. “That was last week. This week it’s about going out, getting drunk, potentially making a bad decision with the wrong guy who’s just going to use me.”
Deirdre pursed her lips, pounding her fist into her open palm. “Who is this wrong person who will use you? I swear that I—”
“Deirdre, honey. I’m talking about a one-night stand of meaningless whoopie.”
“Why do you always use that word when talking about sex?” Egya said.
“Making whoopie. Ella Fitzgerald used it in one of her songs.”
“I know the reference. I just don’t understand why you constantly use it?”
I smirked. “If you had ever seen her in concert, you’d know. I swear to the GoneGods, one of my greatest regrets was not turning Ella into a vampire. She was divine.”
“It wouldn’t be the same,” Egya chuckled. “Blood ruins the vocal cords.”
“Whatever,” I said, grabbing Eyga’s hand and pulling him off the bed. “You get out of here while we girls get ready.” I sniffed him. “Go take a shower and put on some cologne. You smell like wet dog.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, saluting me.
“And be ready to leave here at twenty-hundred hours.”
“Yes ma’am. Right away, ma’am,” he said, leaving the room.
I turned to my changeling roommate. “Now you—let’s get you dolled up, honey.”
“Dolled up? What is dolled up?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”
↔
EGYA KNOCKED on our door at exactly eight o’clock, dressed like he was out of Saturday Night Fever. He wore an almost glowing white suit that contrasted with h
is black shirt like the keys on a piano. His black shoes were so shiny that they were practically dark mirrors, and he wore a thick gold chain around his neck.
“Seriously?” I said.
Normally I’d expect Egya to say something ridiculous about the times, or how Travolta was really a were-hyena or something ridiculous like that. But instead, the Ghanaian’s eyes widened when he saw me, and he did something I didn’t think Egya was capable of.
He stuttered.
“Ahh, you … look … I mean …” He finally stopped his chattering and took a deep breath. “You look amazing.”
“You mean this old thing.” I had meant it as a joke, but the truth was, I was wearing the same dress that Audrey Hepburn wore in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was old, something I had purchased from the original designer. And even though I was slightly chestier than the actress, it fit me perfectly. As well it should; Givenchy altered it just for me—as in, personally—and I looked so beautiful in it that I rewarded him by not eating him afterward.
“No, seriously. You look amazing,” he repeated.
I was pulling out all the stops tonight. I was dressed to kill, applying centuries of knowledge on the art of seduction. Tonight was my getting-over-the-boy night, and you could only do that when you looked amazing. Still …
I narrowed my eyes. This wasn’t the kind of reaction I’d expected from Egya. Mortal human boys who weren’t my friend, sure. But Egya? “Are you feeling OK?”
“Ahhh, I’ll be right back,” he said, and ran off.
“What?” I yelled after him. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be ten minutes. Just wait.” And with that, he was gone.
“Milady,” Deirdre said, peering out in the hall in her typical centurion ways, like she was looking for an intruder or something.
“What is it, Deirdre?”
“I fear that our dorm has been infiltrated by …”—she turned, giving me the biggest, most hammed-up smile ever—“Cupid.”
Then she just stood there, waiting for my reaction.
“Are you making a joke?”
Her smile widened. “You recognized my humor. I was successful.”
“Yeah … yeah you were,” I said, staring down the hall after a boy with whom my relationship had just gotten a wee bit more complicated.