by A. G. Henley
That was probably when I decided to forgive them: Veena’s parents, Brown, my team. They had committed to protect Veena’s life. So had I. Lies or not, we had the same goal. But I couldn’t let Connor off so easily. He’d messed with my heart.
I joined Connor and Gage as the announcer’s voice boomed, “And here’s VV, Veena Venkatesan, for her final run in the halfpipe of the Laax Winter Olympic Games!”
I prayed hard to Lakshmi as Veena perched at the top of the pipe then dropped in. She carved up one side, down, up again, and launched herself, getting huge amplitude and grabbing the toe side of her board while hanging upside down. The audience gasped. No one got big air like Veena.
She went for her next trick. The crowd clapped and cheered when she stomped the landing. She went up again, this time right in front of us. Sona flashed in our faces before Veena twisted, flipped, and grabbed. Another perfect execution from what I could tell. And her third hit made the spectators scream with approval.
Without thinking, I grabbed Connor’s hand as she approached the wall for the double V. Please let her land it.
Veena flew up higher than I’d ever seen her go. She seemed to float as she flipped, twisted, and arced, her strong, graceful body silhouetted in the sun. Together, Connor, Gage, and I leaned forward to watch the landing. And—
She nailed it. The crowd erupted, drowning out the music.
Gage threw his goggles in the air in celebration. Connor clapped, and I grinned and shouted, prouder than if I’d laid down a medal-worthy run myself.
Veena, the superstar, stood with Sona at the bottom of the pipe, her expression luminescent. Her fist launched to the sky when the announcer said her score: a perfect 100.
Perfect enough for Olympic gold.
The next time I saw Veena, she stood on a podium with a huge American flag behind her. Jia-Li was below her and to the right, smiling and clutching a bronze medal. Darya stood to Veena’s left, wearing a silver medal and her usual sour expression. Veena’s hair fell over her shoulders in colorful waves, a huge smile on her face.
I wanted to congratulate her, but I couldn’t even get close. She waved in my direction before being swept away in a crowd of reporters, teammates, and coaches. She’d have interviews for the next few hours, and even her parents were on the media hook.
Connor and I shared a taxi back to the hospital to let them yell at us for leaving before we were officially discharged. Our nurses gave us matching narcotic prescriptions to hold us over until we got back to the States and then shooed us out.
Back at the Olympic Village, a good chunk of the athletes were letting loose. Loud music pumped from open windows, and excited groups rushed from place to place. Alcohol flowed freely. I felt bad for the athletes who still had events to come, but they seemed good-natured about it.
“Are you going to the party tonight?” Connor asked as he walked me to my building.
“Veena made me promise.” She’d texted, begging me to be there.
“Then, I’ll see you there.” He squeezed my good hand gently, but his gaze was so intense I had to look away.
Back in our empty room, I eased into bed. Just as well that Veena was busy; I needed a pain pill and a nap. Returning the texts and calls I’d gotten from Mom today would have to wait.
The party was in the suite of a couple of the men on the U.S. Snowboarding Team. It was already thumping by the time I arrived. I could really use a beer, but I grabbed a soda. My nurse had lectured me about the dangers of mixing alcohol with narcotics. All around the suite, athletes laughed, talked, drank, and danced, and Veena was at the center of it all.
She howled and hugged me when she saw me. “Finally! I tried to wake you up an hour ago, but you were out hard. How do you feel?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I need to talk to you.” She switched her beer to her other hand and hooked an arm in mine, pulling me past two guys who were crouching with their mouths under curvy trails cut in a huge block of ice. A girl with tattooed arms and stretched ear lobes poured vodka from the top so it swept down into the guys’ mouths.
Veena saw me watching. “It’s a vodka luge!”
I shook my head and laughed as she led me to a quiet corner, squeezing past a couple making out in a chair.
“Nic, my parents told me about Connor today. Please, please believe me—I had no idea he was working for them. He knew so much about snowboarding, and the coaches and other trainers seemed to accept him . . . I never suspected him. My parents kept it from both of us. I’m so sorry. Are you . . . are you mad at me?”
Hearing from her own lips that she didn’t know about Connor’s real role in all of this was a relief. I glanced out the window at the dark mountain in the direction of the decrepit chateau.
“I’m not mad at you, Veena. Or your parents. I might have done the same thing if you were my daughter.”
Veena flashed her bright smile. “I was so worried you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I do.” I eyed her. “Did you hear about Newman and Ali?”
Her expression hardened. “Yeah.”
I sighed. “There I was, convinced that Darya was the culprit, and it was Ali all along. How wrong could I be?” It wasn’t a huge surprise no one trusted me, when I thought about all the ways I’d messed up.
“Sometimes I could tell that Ali was, I don’t know, jealous of me. She’d say stuff about my family’s money and how lucky I was to get to train year-round, get a new car when I turned sixteen, all that. Sometimes she teased me about being Indian and how weird it was that I rode. I took it as teasing, anyway, although it was totally racist.”
“There was no way you could have known what she was up to,” I said. “I didn’t. No one did.”
The door opened and more athletes rolled in, including Gage. He waved and yelled to us as someone turned the music up. My arm throbbed. Time for more pain meds.
“Hey, where’s your medal?” I asked.
Glancing around as if embarrassed, she pulled it from where it hung under her shirt and handed it to me. I touched the gleaming gold. The Alps were engraved on the front, and the Olympic rings and torch were on the back. In an arc around the edge, it said Laax Olympic Winter Games, followed by Veena’s name, event, and the year.
“No way I’m letting you hide this. You worked too hard for it.” I put it back over her head and let it rest on top of her shirt, and with a shy smile, she left it. “You did it, Veena, all of it. Congratulations.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Tears crept up in her eyes. “I got this,” she touched the medal, “and all you got was a gunshot wound.” She swallowed and put her arms around me. “I love you, Akka.”
I hugged her back, but when she pulled away, I threw her a questioning look.
“It means big sister.”
My throat tightened with emotion. I’d miss this girl. “Can I get a selfie with you, Olympic champ?”
We stood by the window with the mountain lit up behind us and together held her medal while I snapped a shot.
“I can’t wait to hear where you’ll go next!” Veena said. “You have to stay in touch.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Oh! Connor just walked in. Hey, for what it’s worth, I still think he’s a good guy. Maybe one worth giving a second chance?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“VV!” Anders called in his cute Norwegian accent and waved her over.
She wiped under her eyes. “Did my mascara run?”
“You look great. But hey, go easy tonight, okay?” I gestured to her beer. Hey, you can take the CPO out of the job, but you can’t take the job out of the CPO.
She promised she would and waded around bodies to Anders. He planted a huge kiss on her mouth, and Veena grabbed his shoulders, kissing him harder.
I made my way over to Connor, who stood near the door. He lifted his chin at the couple. “Looks like Veena got everything she wanted today.”
“She deserves it.”
“Can I get you
another drink?” he asked.
I thought about saying yes, staying and talking to Connor, but wasn’t in the mood to party. I still felt resentful toward pretty much everyone except Veena. “Thanks, but I’m heading out.”
He looked worried. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” The uncertainty on his face told me my cool tone had hit home, even while his brown eyes melted the ice packed around my heart a little.
“When do you go back to the U.S.?” he asked.
Brown had emailed the team’s itinerary. “The day after tomorrow.”
He touched my cheek with his palm, and his thumb slid over my skin. “Nic, I’d really like to see you again. I want to get to know you—for real this time.”
“I always was real, Connor.” I stepped around him and walked out the door.
“Hey, Xene.” I answered my ringing phone while pushing out of a side door of the building and into the frosty night air. I headed toward the ski hill, away from the bass thump of music and shouts of laughter coming from the Village. I could still feel Connor’s touch on my face.
“Nicole, congratulations.”
“Thanks. But I don’t feel like I deserve it. I almost lost my principal.”
“But you didn’t lose her. She survived, unharmed. And from what Brown told me, you were willing to risk your life to make sure she did.”
I closed my eyes, remembering the bullet slamming into my arm again, and sunk onto the end of a bench facing the hill.
“It was close. Too close.” I stared up at the shadowy shapes of the clouds overhead. “Did you know about the second team assigned to protect her?”
“No.” Her voice hardened. “When I was a team leader, I would never have done such a thing without telling you. Brown said he thought it was in the best interest of your principal to hide Connor’s identity as an extra layer of security. And he worried it would make you even more sensitive about your inexperience. I told him I disapproved.”
“Thanks, Xene.” I was extra relieved to know my mentor had been in the dark, too.
“Your first assignment is complete. How do you feel?”
Honestly, my arm ached, and I felt a little feverish. But I knew that wasn’t what she meant.
“Amazing. Thank you for giving me this chance, Xene.” Despite everything that went wrong, despite being shot, I knew I’d found my calling.
“Are you ready for another assignment once you’re healed?”
I smiled. “Absolutely.”
Epilogue
My goggles fogged in the dark. I’d run hard through the arena at Juno, trying to stay ahead of this last assailant. I’d been chasing him, but now, my back to the wall, I waited for him to come to me.
Silently, I scratched the back of my arm against the rough concrete. The bullet wound had healed, but the scar still itched.
I’d been home for the last two months, recuperating and doing physical therapy. Mom took good care of me, stuffing me with pasta and BLTPs while I worked hard to get my strength back. Mom seemed so relieved that I’d survived my first assignment, even if I was shot, that I’d decided to push her a little.
I’d asked her to see a therapist with me, something she hadn’t had the energy to do since Gram died, and she agreed. We talked about losing Gram and losing Dad. We shared memories, which we hadn’t done before. I’d even called Jamie to see how she was, and she sounded glad to hear from me.
I felt good, except when I thought about Connor. Which I caught myself doing a lot, and usually at the most inconvenient times.
Starting a relationship with another CPO would be idiotic. We would never see each other. Never be in the same place. Then again, he’d understand everything about what promised to be my new life. The pressure and excitement of an assignment and the sweetness of coming home. And I would get that about his life, too.
Still, Connor had crossed a line when he’d made it personal. I didn’t know if I could trust him on that level. Never mind that I’d kissed him first. Or that I really, really wanted to again.
Speaking of people I wasn’t sure I could trust, I’d met with Brown a week ago in Xene’s office at Juno. He’d seemed glad to see me.
“I have a new assignment for you, Green, when you’re medically cleared.” He passed me a picture. “You know the Hunt brothers?”
I nodded. Who didn’t? They were twins who formed a pop band, geniously named The Hunt. At nineteen years old, they were already famous, super wealthy, and massive playboys. They grinned at me from the promotional photo with cheeky smiles and strong jawlines under carefully messy hair.
“They’re chartering a yacht to sail through the Caribbean with some friends.” He raised an eyebrow. “You do know where the Caribbean is, right?” I pulled a face, and he went on. “They looked over some resumes, and they want to hire you as their personal CPO. A routine protective detail, this time. No known threats. The Venkatesans gave you a reference.”
I smiled—that was nice of them. I picked up the photo. “Would you be my team lead?”
He sighed. “Regrettably, yes.”
“And will you be honest with me this time?”
He grunted. “No promises. You want to think about it? Celebrities aren’t easy to work with.”
I put the photo down. “You had me at chartered yacht, Chief.”
“I had a feeling. I’ll let them know.”
I fizzed with excitement thinking about it now, while holding my Airsoft gun steady. I’d leave in a few weeks for George Town, Grand Cayman, to arrange for the Hunts’ arrivals.
My ear perked at a noise to my right. The shooter, whoever he was, moved my way. I let him come. My body was relaxed; I was ready.
A few months ago, I might’ve dived and fired, hoping to get the jump on him. Now, I watched and waited, trusting that I’d make the right decision when the time came.
After a minute, the shooter stepped around the corner—right into my line of fire. I shot him once. He stepped back, a hand over his heart where the bullet hit, then pulled off his mask and smiled that gorgeous smile.
“Nice shot, Gogo.”
I was right: I knew exactly what to do.
I grabbed the sides of Connor’s vest, pulled him against me, and kissed him.
THE END
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The Scourge: Brilliant Darkness #1
Chapter One
I duck out of the storeroom and into the main cavern, stepping carefully across the uneven floor. My fingers ache from being trailed along the frigid stone walls for hours. Rubbing my hands together to generate warmth has all the effect of kindling a fire with chips of ice.
My footfalls echo in the stillness as I move down the passage toward the mouth of the cave, counting my paces as I go. The sun pours in, diluting the darkness. I can barely tell light from dark, but I know I’m almost out when I hear Eland’s voice. He never ventures in alone. He hates the caves almost as much as he fears the Scourge.
“Let’s go, Fennel,” he calls. “The celebration’s about to start, and I’m starving. There’s roasted boar and fresh bread, bean and potato stew, blackberry pie–”
I laugh. “Is your stomach all you think about?”
“No, I think about lots of other things.”
“Really? Like what?” I reach out toward his voice.
Eland’s hand, grimy from digging up vegetables and herbs in the garden, finds mine. Grimy or not, the warmth is a relief. “Like how we’ll trounce the Lofties in the competitions tomorrow.”
I can’t help smiling at his confidence. This is his first year to compete. He and the other twelve-year-old boys have talked of little else for weeks. Everyone looks forward to the Summer Solstice celebration for the feast, the dancing, and the chance to beat the Lofties—with sp
ear and knife, if not bow and arrow. It’s a highlight of the year, so different from the solemn Winter Solstice when the Exchange takes place.
The shadows shift as we pass under the canopy of trees. I wrap my hand around Eland’s sapling-thin arm—roots and creeping weeds on the forest floor have sent me sprawling more often than I want to remember. We reach the clearing, the heart of our community, where a bonfire sizzles and sputters to life. People shout to each other as they make their way down the paths from the gardens and the water hole, their work done for the day. The luscious fragrance of gardenia winds through the air. Someone must have strung garlands as decorations.
Our home, like those of all the other Groundlings, nestles into the embrace of the towering greenheart trees circling the clearing. Eland pushes open the door of our shelter. Aloe, my foster mother and his natural mother, calls to us from inside.
“Come in here, Eland ... are you presentable? Comb your hair and be sure you clean the muck out of those fingernails. Fennel? Did you finish in the caves?”
I move to Aloe’s side, where I know her outstretched arm will be, and take her hand in mine. Her skin is weathered but warm, like the surface of the enormous clay cooking pot in the clearing that never quite cools off. She smells of rosemary, from working in the herb garden, and something else I can only liken to the scraps of pre-Fall metal we sometimes come across in the forest.
“There’s plenty of blankets and firewood, but we could probably use more salt meat,” I tell her.
“We can store what’s left of the boar after the celebration. We’re fortunate the hunting party came across such a large one, and so near to home. The Council is pleased.”