Nerve

by Kirsten Krueger

  “I-I—” Kevin screwed his eyes shut like he might let out the turd he’d been holding in earlier. Naretha was about to physically attack him for his incompetence when a clicking noise cut through the clamor, followed by shrieks from above.

  “What the hell did you just do?” Naretha asked so quietly that she wasn’t sure he’d heard.

  “I activated the roof spikes,” he breathed out as his red eyes flew open. “I’ve never gotten to use them before. That was fun.”

  Naretha had never heard of that feature on these vans, but she was definitely thankful for its existence. With newfound animation, she thrust the van backward again, plowing through bodies until it spun off the front lawn and onto the pavement. Her mirthful cackles overpowered the pinging of bullets against the vehicle’s hull.

  “K-Kevin,” Devika prompted, rallying strength to her voice. “Detonate the bombs.”

  “B-but…Nate and Vishal…”

  “Do it,” she snarled, her voice wrought with remorse. As Kevin closed his eyes again, the house they’d spent an hour in erupted with deafening explosions of fire, sending the soldiers into a panic. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as Danny’s abilities, but it would erase the evidence and thwart these government hounds long enough for them to speed away.

  Naretha paused for the briefest second when a wave of empathy overtook her. If confronted with the situation of killing those she considered family for the good of the Wackos, she would have done it as well, but it likely would have pained her as much as it did Kevin and Devika. They hid their tears well as the vehicle plunged forward.

  “Here,” Devika said from behind as Naretha wove through the neighborhood. Glancing back through the mirror, she saw the woman handing Avner what appeared to be a license plate. “We need to change the back plate so they can’t track us.”

  “Me?” Avner said, incredulous. “You want me to do it?”

  “No, I want you to hold my legs so I don’t fly out of the van while I do it. I need you two to keep the doors propped open so they don’t decapitate me.”

  Meredith made a pathetic little noise upon realizing the Wacko was addressing her, but Jamad eagerly scrambled to the back doors. Devika was about to open them when something landed on the roof with an abnormally gentle thump.

  “That’s either the biggest bird in history or a child,” Naretha commented, beginning to cut the wheel hard to throw it off.

  “Don’t!” Devika exclaimed so abruptly that Naretha nearly drove them off the road. “Kev, pull up the roof cam.”

  With speedy fingers, he pried a computer screen out of the van’s dashboard, which instantly displayed a view of the roof. Needle-sharp spikes blanketed the surface like a field of rigid grass, and two soldiers were skewered in them, droplets of blood flying in the wind. Perched on one of the men was a giant falcon, glowing like amethyst in the morning sunlight.

  “What is that?” Avner peered over Naretha’s shoulder to view the screen.

  “Nate,” Kevin breathed, eyes as wide as cherry tomatoes. Devika crawled toward the back doors, and before Naretha could protest, she thrust them open, permitting gusts of air and an oversized bird.

  The wind drowned out Meredith’s scream as the massive falcon landed in the rear of the van, its wingspan consuming half the space. All Naretha saw when she looked in the rearview mirror were purple feathers—until the feathers morphed, slowly shifting and dissolving until they were replaced with dark skin and the naked body of the Wacko they’d assumed dead.

  “Well, shit, I didn’t know he was a shapeshifter,” Naretha said. “Why didn’t you turn into a T-rex and devour all those Reggs?”

  “Because—I’ve been shot,” he coughed, and when Naretha squinted at the mirror, she saw that there was, indeed, blood gushing from his shoulder.

  “Vishal…” Devika began, but Nate shook his head. “I’ll…I’ll change the plate…and then patch you—”

  Avner must have picked up on the shakiness in her voice because he said, “I’ll change the plate.” Before he retreated to the back, Naretha grabbed his arm, careful to keep the van steady with her other hand.

  “We can’t go back for Zeela,” she told him quietly. His yellow eyes remained calm and his mouth didn’t open to object. “We’ll go to Headquarters, regroup, get a new vehicle—and then we’ll track her down.”

  “You…you’ll help?”

  Releasing his arm, she allowed her eyes to dart briefly from the road to his face. “You broke me out of Periculand…”

  “For bargaining purposes.”

  “Yeah, well, I think we’ve both saved each other’s asses enough times throughout this expedition that we can deem each other temporary allies. You’ve made it possible for me to return to my…boyfriend, so I’ll make it possible for you to return to your girlfriend.”

  His bright yellow head nodded in the corner of her vision, and when she peeked at him, his caution had transformed into gratitude. Part of her wished she didn’t have to lie—that she could help Avner seek out Zeela after they found safety—but she knew it couldn’t happen. She was fond of Zeela, but there was too much at stake to worry about the fate of one girl. Plus, as proven when he willingly replaced the rear license plate, hopeful Avner would be more useful to the cause than satisfied Avner.

  22

  Deception and Perception

  “Are you sure you’re reading his brain right?” Seth asked, his knees digging into Tray’s back as he leaned forward to look at Eliana. Since they’d entered the training gymnasium ten minutes ago, her focus had been fixed on Calder, who was apparently sending her mental messages. Tray couldn’t believe the information Eliana had received, though—that Than Floros, the innocent history teacher, was a Wacko.

  From where the primaries were clustered on the orange bleachers, they could see Than standing among the other teachers on the far side of the room, conversing amicably with Aethelred. Theoretically, it seemed plausible that Than was involved with the Wackos. He’d been alive for nearly three hundred years—there was no telling how many connections he could have made within the Affinity community. Considering he had hundreds of years left to live, he wouldn’t want to spend them locked up by the government, which might have motivated him to join the terrorists.

  Logically, though, it didn’t add up. Than had never displayed any inclination toward violence; he didn’t even seem to enjoy the new route training had taken with so much physical combat. Was that because he feared Periculand’s Affinities would overthrow the Wackos, or was it because he feared the Wackos would demolish the students? The latter seemed to align with what Tray had observed thus far, but if they could verify this new evidence…

  “Yes, I’m reading his brain right,” Eliana mumbled, her voice nearly inaudible beneath Fraco’s incessant snipping. With the principals absent from this morning’s training, Fraco had been tasked with leading the exercise, which involved one partner ducking, rolling, and tackling the other partner’s legs.

  Nero and Calder demonstrated, as usual, and the bully was clearly hungover from the basket of booze the Rosses had unknowingly allowed him to consume the night before. Every time Nero attempted the tackle, Calder repeatedly drenched him, slowing him down and proving to everyone how futile these modes of combat were. Anyone with an Affinity that did not manifest physically, like many of the Mentals, would have no chance against someone with a power like Calder’s. Even Nero, with his impressive super strength, couldn’t thwart his smaller opponent.

  Tray might have admired Calder’s will to embarrass Nero so publicly if it didn’t threaten to blow his cover. For weeks now, his mysterious resentment toward the brute had been apparent. If Nero discovered Calder held no loyalty for him, it would ruin their chances of him collecting information from the Rosses—as well as spark a civil war amongst the students. With the possibility of war outside of Periculand, they certainly didn’t need one within.

  “Are you sure his thoughts are clear?” Tray asked Eliana, glancing over his
shoulder. She was wedged between Hartman and Kiki, brow scrunched as she employed her Affinity. The hue of her blue features had lightened considerably over the past few weeks, and with the way her Affinity had advanced, he didn’t doubt her skills, but…Than? “He must be too focused on his demonstration with Nero to produce coherent thoughts.”

  Eliana bit her lip, briefly sliding her eyes toward Tray’s. “Calder barely needs to focus to use his Affinity. If he weren’t explaining this…situation to me, he’d probably be bored.”

  “I don’t understand his roommate’s Affinity.” Tray stared at the mats as he contemplated. “How can this kid sense more than you?”

  “His mind is…strange. He doesn’t have any shields up, but I still can’t read him. I can’t read Than, either… He must have learned how to block mind readers over the past three hundred years.”

  “So, there’s no way to confirm if it’s true,” Tray huffed, rubbing his forehead. They couldn’t ask Than, and to inform the Rosses of their suspicion would mean jail time for Than whether he was guilty or not. He would end up in a cell with Angor, who Tray was progressively beginning to believe innocent, and Adara, which would be more like torture for the history teacher than punishment.

  Adara… Tray had avoided any thoughts of her since their encounter the previous night. He’d almost admitted he missed her—but he didn’t, not really. Everything had been miserable since her incarceration, but that had nothing to do with her absence; it had to do with Hastings’s death and the Reggs’ takeover and the fact that he didn’t have any homework to fill his time. The only reason he wished Adara were here was because she was the only one who would be able to force the truth out of Calder—with her unruly fire Affinity, which would then destroy the whole town.

  It was only a matter of time before she grew tired of imprisonment and burned her way out, Tray knew. Would Calder be powerful enough to douse her flames? He definitely seemed to have harnessed his Affinity well—better even than Nero, perhaps. Currently, Calder shoved a wave of water as the bully rolled, throwing his massive form across the mats until he lay flat on his back. Nero’s ensuing snarl was intimidating enough that Ackerly actually jolted where he sat beside Tray.

  “Mardurus.” His growl rumbled through the gymnasium. Spitting, he pushed to his feet and slicked back his dripping gray hair. His white t-shirt was soaked through, clinging to the ridges of his bulging muscles in a way that almost made Tray fear for Calder’s life.

  The Pixie Prince, as Adara liked to call him, seemed entertained by Nero’s wrath, though. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured all the water from the mats and from Nero, absorbing every droplet into his own skin. “Do you want our peers to think these lame moves are gonna save their asses from the Wackos?”

  “Not everyone has an Affinity suited for combat, Mr. Mardurus!” Fraco shrilled, agreeing with Nero for once, albeit for different reasons. “Everyone must be trained to defend themselves!”

  “Defend, sure,” Calder said with a shrug, “but this is an offensive move. Why would we have Mentals jumping into battle when they’re better suited for strategic positions?”

  “Why would we have any teenagers fight in battles, is what he means to ask,” Lavisa grumbled, her legs propped on the row of bleachers before them. Seated on Tray’s left, he’d almost forgotten about her because she was so quiet. Today, she rubbed her forearms instead of picking her scabs, likely preparing for this drill. Tray agreed with her—and with Calder, for that matter—but the murderous gleam to Nero’s eyes convinced him this little rebellion had to end.

  “Can you tell Mardurus to quit it?” he asked Eliana. “He’s drawing too much negative attention.”

  “Mind reading only works one way,” was her cold reply.

  “I’ll handle this,” Seth said before standing—and kneeing Tray’s back in the process. “Hey, Fraco!” he called down to the vice principal, who bristled. Tray was almost certain he saw a vein bulge in the oily man’s temple.

  “Call me Mr.—”

  “Yeah, okay, I know, but can we get this drill started? I’m dying to practice some Wacko-killing moves.”

  “Well, Mardurus, would you look at that?” Nero mused with a condescending smirk. “A normie wants to do this drill. If he can do it, anyone can.”

  “If your memory spans more than a minute, you’ll remember you were the one who couldn’t complete the drill, not me,” Calder countered, his smile equally as patronizing.

  “Oh shit!” Hartman blurted from his perch behind Tray. His stepbrother’s nostrils flared as he prowled toward Calder. “They’re about to throw down.”

  “Should I step in?” Seth asked, bouncing on his feet as Nero circled Calder.

  Fraco shouted his typical, “Enough!” while all the other faculty members watched the scene with apprehensive eyes.

  “No.” Tray elbowed his brother’s knee hard enough that Seth fell back onto the bleachers. “You’ll get pulverized. Mardurus was foolish enough to bring this upon himself—he can deal with it.”

  Instead of dealing with it, though, Calder was spared from a beating when the gymnasium’s doors opened.

  “Ah, good, you’re demonstrating,” William said, observing his two student bodyguards with emotionless eyes. Miraculously, the Rosses’ arrival had caused Nero to halt his predatory pacing and assume a docile demeanor. “Is the exercise nearly ready to be carried out, Fraco?”

  “I-I—yes.”

  “Good,” Artemis said, strutting in beside her husband. Though her enthusiasm was subdued, she actually seemed gleeful. Tray didn’t have to wonder what could have ignited this kind of reaction from her, because the three new girls strolled in behind them, reminding him of their promise to divulge Wacko secrets.

  Forming an opinion of these girls had proven a difficult task, given Tray didn’t have much information to work with. Cath, the monster, was obviously the same person who had invaded Periculand two months ago, but although her footsteps vibrated the room, she’d displayed no signs of aggression. Not even her facial expressions were hostile.

  The athletic one, Naira, was too much like Seth to be anything but authentic. Tray’s brother wasn’t capable of deception; if he said something, he believed it, even if it was false. If this girl claimed not to be a Wacko, she honestly believed she wasn’t. The way she beamed at them as she approached was proof enough.

  But Ashna… Tray had no idea what to think of Ashna. She’d slept in his dorm room last night, which had set him on edge…until she’d assuaged his pounding headache, unprompted. Could she really sense the activity of nociceptors with such ease? Headaches were even more complicated physiologically than other forms of pain, because there weren’t any nociceptors directly in the brain and the source of the pain could form in multiple places—yet, she’d been able to decipher exactly what had caused his headache and had somehow prevented it. Would an untrustworthy person go through such trouble?

  There was a sense of innocence about her but also a sense of shrewdness. She feigned timidity in large groups but then held an assertive air when necessary. Ackerly didn’t see it—none of the others did—but Tray was determined to discover her ambitions.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as soon as she and her two companions reached the primaries’ section of the bleachers. Subtle giddiness characterized them as Ashna slid next to Ackerly, Naira reclined next to Seth, and Cath plopped down beyond them, consuming two rows with her massive size.

  “Nero and Calder are about to kill each other,” Ackerly informed her, nodding to where the two boys still silently glared. The Rosses had assumed positions at the center of the mats, ending their demonstration so others could practice. “We’re also worried that one of our teachers is a Wacko—”

  “Ackerly,” Tray hissed in immediate reprimand. “This can’t be common knowledge.”

  “Which one?” Ashna asked, clearly alarmed. “Did you…overhear something?”

  “No,” Tray snapped before Ackerly could open his bi
g mouth. Of course, now, when they had secrets to keep, the kid decided to stop being shy. “We’re basing this knowledge off some freak who claims to see ‘another world.’ We can’t come to any conclusions before we have solid evidence. Until then, we won’t discuss it.”

  If Ashna was offended by his rudeness, she didn’t show it—or perhaps she didn’t have time to show it, because the teachers now rallied students onto the mats, and Than was the one ushering their group. All of them froze when the brown-eyed, brown-haired man stepped before them and awkwardly smiled.

  “Break into pairs, if you will,” he requested with a polite dip of his head. When he sauntered off to instruct another group of students, Ashna raised her iridescent eyebrows.

  “That’s the guy you think is a Wacko?”

  “C-can you read minds?” Ackerly spluttered as pinkness crept into his cheeks.

  “No…” she began, eyeing each of them warily, “but he didn’t seem scary and you all seemed scared. I hope none of you plan to pursue a career in acting.”

  “I doubt any of us will have the opportunity to pursue a career at all,” Kiki sighed, twirling her pinkish-blonde hair.

  Since solidifying that her Affinity involved predicting the future, she’d been so ominously forlorn that Tray hardly recognized her personality anymore. She constantly stared into space not with blankness but with pensiveness, as if actual thoughts ran through her mind—deep, profound thoughts. Seemingly, she’d forfeited her quest for popularity, and Tray couldn’t recall one nasty comment she’d directed toward him in over two weeks.

  “Why is that?” Naira asked as she hopped down from bench to bench until she stood on the floor.

  “Because we’re not allowed to leave?” Kiki rolled her head until it faced her roommate. “Partners?”