Nerve
Page 70
“Hold on”—Calder lifted his head just enough to narrow his eyes at Olalla—“did you say Stromer saved the whole town? I didn’t think she was capable of that. Sounds like a joke to me.”
Adara rallied her most dramatically mocking voice to say, “I thought you believed in me?”
His lips parted but didn’t utter a word; his gaze was trained warily on Nero now, and he swallowed uncomfortably at the way the brute continued to simper. It was the first time Adara had ever seen him appear genuinely frightened of Nero, his beloved ally. Perhaps it was his vulnerable position, lying injured on the ground, or perhaps it was because he knew anything that brought Nero pleasure would bring others pain.
“Considering all the fires abruptly disappeared, Adara must have been the savior.” Olalla’s gaze slipping cleverly in Angor’s direction. “I assume you’ve been training her?”
“Adara’s competent enough to have taught herself,” Angor said carefully—distrustfully. Wedged in the corner, he looked like a trapped animal waiting to become a meal. His expression surrendered to placidity when he noticed Olalla’s companions were Fraco and Aethelred, the two standing at her side like personal butlers. The placidity wasn’t relief, though; it was more akin to resignation—like Angor knew what would come next and had accepted this doom.
“That’s reassuring, since you won’t be her mentor any longer,” Olalla said, and Adara felt the chill—not in the air but in her mind. The coldness slithered into the crevices of her brain, numbing any sense of skepticism.
“Have the Wackos left the town?” Angor asked, but his inflection indicated he already knew the answer. People as powerful as Olalla and Nero wouldn’t have been here in the police station if the battle wasn’t over.
“With no help from you,” the Affinity ambassador confirmed tartly. Stepping into the corridor, she studied the melted and now cooling metal with a satisfied air. “You were too busy behind bars to defend Periculand, so I did. Classic, isn’t it, Aethelred, that Periculy screws up and I have to swoop in and save his ass?”
“I can’t say this was the first time,” Devil-Red agreed with a nod. Adara was curious about the elusive nature of this exchange, but for once, she didn’t feel compelled to intervene.
“Don’t worry, you’ll continue to pay for your crimes,” Olalla soothed, as if doing him a favor. “This jail might be ruined, but I have an even better place for you to decompose. You’ll be in the good company of our mutual friend Artemis. I suppose I’ll have to detain Ashna there as well. To her misfortune, she can resist me, and we can’t have her forming a coup against me. No, she needs to be caged until her brother comes crawling for her.”
“Ah, now that’s something we can all make a toast to—a non-alcoholic toast,” Adara reassured with a smug smirk in Nero’s direction. His delight finally faded with that. “I’ve heard underage drinking is taken very seriously here in Periculand. Wouldn’t want to end up beside Unicorn Fairy in chains. At least she earned imprisonment. That bitch broke my Greenie’s heart.”
“Which obviously merits incarceration,” Calder chimed in sardonically. “Angor should be freed, though.”
“No, he shouldn’t.” Nero made the threat plain through his gritted teeth.
Adara made her insubordination plain through her careless eyebrow raise. “Yes, he should. He didn’t kill Hastings. The Purple Almost-Vice-President knows that. Why else would she have locked up my nasty mother?”
Olalla emitted a laugh, but it was too spiteful to warm Adara’s chilled thoughts. “You’re going to make me hate myself, aren’t you?” The girl’s brow creased, but the woman plunged on without explanation. “Angor murdered Hastings—didn’t you?”
Features twisting with shame, the man solemnly closed his eyes. “Y-yes…I did.”
“See, there you have it.” Olalla gestured toward him like his confession clarified everything, and…somehow it did. Somehow, the pieces snapped into place for Adara; all the clues they’d gathered led to the conclusion she’d first deduced—that Angor was guilty. Of course he was. He was evil. She was so sure of it that she was tempted to erupt and finish the deed she hadn’t been able to accomplish last month.
“Now that everything has been made clear to you all, we can move forward,” Olalla announced, and Adara didn’t defy her. She didn’t want to defy her; she wanted to follow her. “You can call me the Purple Principal, if you’d like.”
Olalla’s permission should have made the nickname less enjoyable for Adara, but she felt delightfully devious as she said, “I would like that.”
“Good,” the Purple Principal purred. “Now, I’d like you two to return to campus and clean up. New rules will be implemented now that I’m in charge, and I want everyone to be present for the assembly. I do hope you don’t skip out this time,” she added to Calder, who feigned innocence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We all know what she’s talking about,” Adara said with an eye roll. “You have proven to be excessively stupid tonight, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve actually forgotten. What are you gonna do with the son-murderer?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” As Olalla spun to depart, an object on her head sparkled in the faint light of the moon, and Adara realized it was a crown. Her only opinion was that its gaudiness would have suited Kiki’s taste…and that she secretly would have liked one herself.
“Grab him,” Olalla commanded to Nero, who heeded her words without question. Marching over the mess Adara had made, he stalked into the cell and grasped Angor by the throat, hauling him away without a hint of mercy.
Adara had the urge to feel, but she felt nothing. There was no vindication, nor was there remorse. Not when Olalla commanded Fraco and Aethelred like robots. Not when Nero dragged Angor away. Not when Angor glanced back at her in sorrow.
There was no outburst this time because there was no need for an outburst. And so the fire was dead.
Acknowledgements
So far, Nerve has been my favorite book to write and my least favorite book to edit. I could not have finished this monstrosity if not for outside help. I would thank the devil, but that would probably be socially unacceptable, so I’ll thank these mortals instead:
My parents, for letting me live with you since the costs of publishing make me poor
My grandma, for reading Blood even though you thinks it’s “too long” (can’t wait to see your reaction to Nerve, Granny)
My grandpa, for understanding my weird sense of humor
My husband, Phil, for keeping me sane throughout the process of finishing this book (and for always listening to me rant about my own characters)
Daniëlle, for being a wonderful a friend (and for being a weird writer like me, finding inspiration while on the subway and such)
Jasmine, for taking the time to read my books even when you’re insanely busy (and for leaving the best comments)
Ilona…I don’t even know how to begin to thank you for all you did for this book. Your amazing art, your insightful suggestions, and your willingness to tolerate me and my barrage of questions—I would be lost without you (dramatic sobs ensue)
My Patrons on Patreon (Amelia, Isabella, NewRa, and Tawnie), for your support and encouragement (and for being patient throughout my long hiatus)
And to all my other readers. Whether you found me on Quotev years ago or just discovered this series recently, I’m eternally grateful for your encouragement and support.
About the Author
In books, Kirsten loves drama, unhealthy relationships, and violence. In real life, Kirsten loves solitude, laughing with her husband, and not killing people. Her only friends live hallway across the Earth, but at least she has hundreds of characters in her head to keep her company. You can probably find her cuddling with her pups instead of writing. Nerve is her second full-length novel, but there are more to come. Find her online for more info:
www.kirstenkruegerauthor.com
kirs
tenkruegerauthor@gmail.com