Toxic

by Jus Accardo

  “Because what we have is epic. It’s the kind of thing they put in books and movies. The epic ones are always hard, Kale. They’re blood, sweat, and tears, but they’re worth it.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “And yet you still worry I’ll fall in love with Jade because I can touch her.”

  With someone else this would’ve been tricky. The truth would make me look desperate and pathetic. But not with Kale. He didn’t operate on the same frequency as everyone else. On one hand, he was more dangerous than anyone I’d ever met. He could slip into a room, kill you with a spatula, and be out of town before anyone knew about it. On the other, he was the most pure, untarnished soul I’d ever come across. It was an odd mix so uniquely Kale, and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

  He was the one person I was completely free to be myself with. With Kale, there was no chance anything I said would be construed as needy or pathetic. I’d never get an eye roll or dismissive wave. One of the things I loved most—I never had to hide anything—

  Only I was. My left shoulder chose that moment to twitch, sending a dull ache down my arm. Crap. I’d been trying to ignore it in hopes it would simply go away.

  Who was I kidding? I had to tell him. He’d figure out something was wrong, anyway. Kale knew me better than anyone. Better than I knew myself sometimes. I opened my mouth to come clean, but when the words spilled out, they weren’t what I’d planned. “In my heart I know that would never happen, but it’s always been my worst fear.”

  He hesitated for a moment, blue eyes nearly boring holes through mine. This was it. He’d call my bullshit and force me to tell him what was up. A large part of me was relieved. After a moment, though, he sighed. “It’s a silly fear. You have to understand that.”

  A strand of his hair fell into my eyes. Slightly disappointed, I blew it away and frowned. “Says the guy who can’t touch his own girlfriend.”

  “This is temporary.”

  Twisting, I nodded to the row of dead plants lining the other side of the gym. A defeated army of greenery. An image of Kale and me, old and gray and sitting on a porch swing with Jade standing behind us, bound and gagged, popped into my head.

  “I know…” But I couldn’t help wondering what kind of damage would be done before we got it all straightened out…

  …

  The next few days went by without serious issue. Kale, Jade, and I continued to go to school—and detention turned out to be code for slavery. Ginger must have saved all the manual labor chores around the hotel for a rainy day because there was no end in sight. We’d done everything from washing windows to scrubbing out the stove.

  Alex returned but stayed in the background. He left the hotel on lunch break and was giving me the silent treatment. It was possible he’d realized Kale’s threat was serious, or he’d learned his lesson—don’t screw with an ex-assassin. Either way, it was peace, and we needed that.

  I needed that.

  The blotch on my shoulder hadn’t gone away. In fact, it’d actually gotten bigger. It itched like hell and ached at random, inconveniently timed intervals. I woke up almost in tears most mornings, throbbing pain and occasional flashes of heat demanding attention, but I chose to pop pills and ignore the whole thing.

  The longer I put off telling everyone, the more it seemed like a bad idea, until finally, the thought of coming clean scared me almost as much as Denazen. They’d flame me for waiting so long, and in the back of my mind, there was still the lingering hope that this would all go away on its own. It was stupid, and a part of me knew that, but I couldn’t do it. I’d tried. The words just never came.

  Jade and Kale grew closer. At least that’s what it seemed like to me. Anytime I looked, they were whispering to each other. Twice I’d entered the room, only to have them go silent. Kiernan swore it was my imagination, insisting Kale spent so much time with Jade because he wanted to learn and get back to me. Still, something in the back of my mind whispered dark things.

  Ginger gave them an hour to practice control each day, right before break. They’d slink off to the common room and practice with meditation and plants. During this time, she’d send Alex and me to the kitchen to make lunch. Her twisted idea of home economics.

  On the third day, Alex finally broke his silence. “So what’s up with the redhead?”

  I slathered one piece of bread with extra mustard and set it on the counter. “What do you mean, what’s up?”

  He handed me the cheese. It was the same routine every day. Next I’d spread a thin layer of mayo on the other piece of bread, and then put three pieces of cheese between them. Kale had a thing for cheese.

  “Seems like her and Reaper are getting a little friendly.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. He knew that name bothered me and used it whenever possible. “Stop calling him that, please.”

  One slice of bread on a plate, followed by a chunk of turkey slices, then exactly three pieces of pepperoni and a dollop of mustard. Alex’s eating habits had always turned my stomach. “So he dumped you for her?”

  Acknowledging the verbal poking would only make it worse, but I couldn’t help myself. “We’re still together,” I said, gritting my teeth.

  He waved a piece of pepperoni in my direction and feigned astonishment. “It’s, like, an open relationship? You were never the type to share, Dez. I’m surprised.”

  “They’re just friends.” This time it came out a little sharper. If I squeezed the mayo any harder, it was likely to explode. “She’s helping him learn control.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at me. The thin silver barbell above his right eye danced. “Control? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  “You’re an ass,” I said, flicking the loaf of bread across the counter at him. Making me do work around the hotel was cruel. Making me do it with Alex was just inhuman. I knew the silent treatment would never last.

  There was a commotion at the door, and a second later, Kale walked in with Jade.

  “And you’re a blind idiot,” Alex mumbled, grabbing his sandwich. “I’m outta here.”

  In his haste, he almost ran Ginger over on the way out. “Watch it,” she snapped. “And make sure you’re back on time today—with all the items on that list I gave you.”

  “How was practice?” There. See? I could be civil. The question hadn’t even sounded sarcastic.

  “Never mind that,” Ginger said, handing me a package. “I need you to run this down to the post office. Now. Make sure to send it out first class.”

  “Me?” I took the small box from her and gave it a good shake. It felt empty. “You’re letting me leave?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I need this mailed. Kale needs to practice, and Alex is already running an important errand for me.”

  “Rosie?” I knew I should shut my mouth. This was totally ironic. A few days ago I would have done anything to get out of the hotel, but now it seemed fishy. I mean, come on. She’d had Rosie guarding the exits, and here she was opening the door and pushing me out?

  “Rosie had an errand of her own to run. She won’t be back till later this evening.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I won’t come back till tonight?” I said. “Or that Denazen will snap me up the moment I walk out the door?”

  Ginger looked from me to Jade and smiled. “Something tells me you’ll be back as soon as possible. As for Denazen, I can assure you nothing bad will happen to you.”

  Nothing bad? It was the closest Ginger had ever come to revealing something she’d seen. It probably should have set my mind at ease—but it didn’t.

  Ginger pointed to the plate of sandwiches Alex and I made and said to Kale, “You and Jade, use the extra time to get in some more practice. You need it.” To me, she said, “Get moving.”

  I bitched about it the entire way to the car—which was kind of funny. Now that the opportunity for some semblance of freedom had been presented, I was pissed. On top of all that, my shoulder was killing me.

&n
bsp; I’d popped more Advil in the last twenty-four hours than I had all year, but it wasn’t helping much. A nagging feeling was telling me to take a look, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t normally an advocate for avoidance—charge things head on, that was my motto—but acknowledging an actual problem meant I had to deal with it. And not only wasn’t I ready, but I had no idea what to do.

  A tiny, whisper-light voice in the back of my head said, tell Kale. Keeping this a secret from him was stupid, and more than that, selfish. He’d never keep something like this from me. It wasn’t fair for me to keep it from him. I resolved to pull him aside and ’fess up as soon as I got back to the hotel.

  The post office was across town, so Ginger had given me the keys to her Toyota. A bucket of blue-tinged rust and unidentifiable fetid odor, the car miraculously started. I had Kiernan on the phone before I even pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I swear. She’s trying to hook them up.”

  “So she’s sending you to the post office? To mail a package? What is it—medication for some poor, dying kid in Canada?”

  “I know, right? Why the hell did I have to go now? And why is she so eager to let me out on the building? A few days ago she practically had the doors barricaded.”

  “Maybe she’s trying to avoid issues with Alex?”

  “No way. He hasn’t even been spending lunch break with us. He leaves and goes God knows where.”

  “Well, then why couldn’t he mail the stupid package?”

  “She said he was already running an errand for her.”

  “What kind of errand?”

  “That’s a great question. One I probably won’t get a straight answer to.” I sighed. “I should go. It’s lunch. There’s gonna be a sick line. Come see me after school?”

  “You got it, babe.”

  “And don’t flake on me this time,” I added right before hanging up.

  Traffic was a nightmare. It ended up taking me almost twenty minutes to get to the post office. Then, when I did, I found the line out the door.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” I slammed the driver’s-side door closed and trekked across the lot, package in hand.

  Despite its length, the line moved quickly, and in no time I’d made it past the first set of doors. The woman in front of me held the second door open and stepped through. I let it close and waited for her to move farther up. The stench of her perfume was giving me a headache, and on top of the dull aching in my shoulder, I didn’t need that.

  Through the glass, I could see a reflection of the parking lot. A dark sedan pulled in and swung into the newly vacated spot next to Ginger’s old clunker. The driver stepped from the car and made his way across the lot, casual as could be. Other than the shape, it was hard to make out the details of his face, but the perfectly pressed suit and dark sunglasses stood out like a flashing neon sign. The door gave a small squeak as the man stepped through.

  Or it might’ve been me.

  “Hello, Deznee.”

  Determined to play it cool even though my heart rate had jumped to about three beats past critical, I nonchalantly said, “Dad. Love to say it’s good to see ya, but…”

  “I’ll be happy for both of us. You’re looking well. I see life with your mother is agreeing with you.”

  “I doubt you’re here to spew compliments. Flattery is so not your style.” I glanced around him and saw the dynamic duo climbing from the backseat of his car. One settled against the passenger-side door, while the other made himself comfortable on the steps just outside.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Denazen.” Dad said, keeping his eyes front and center. “I think you and I got off to the wrong start.”

  The only explanation for what I thought I’d just heard was insanity. That, or a supreme wax build up in the inner ear canal. “Wrong start? You’re an animal.”

  Dad removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the inside pocket. “98 is more an animal than I am. I don’t think you quite understand what it is we do at Denazen.”

  Was he serious? Trying that whole we’re out to help mankind bit? On me? “Kale, jackass. His name is Kale,” I snapped. I’d stayed on the other side of the double doors so no one inside could hear our conversation, but someone had joined the line behind Dad. The woman made an irritated noise of disapproval at my choice of wording and covered her small son’s ears.

  Great. Now I was corrupting children. I pushed past the woman and her son, flashing her an apologetic smile, and hurried down the steps. “And I totally understand what Denazen stands for.”

  As I passed, the twin seated on the steps rose and fell in step with Dad, who stayed right beside me. Ahead, the one by the car winked and pulled open the back passenger’s side door.

  Oh, hell, no.

  I changed direction, Ginger’s stupid package still in my hands, and veered to the right. Unfortunately, that put me around the overgrown, darkened side of the building. Out of view of the parking lot.

  Dad flashed me his sweetest smile. One I once thought was constructed to put clients and judges alike at ease. “You may think you’ve tamed him, but it’s best to remember 98 is a killer. He needs to be controlled. You really have no idea what he’s capable of.”

  “I think you’re confusing him with yourself.” Trying to be discreet, I surveyed the immediate area for something I could use as a weapon if need be. Ginger’s package was feather light and would be useless for defensive purposes.

  “We’re not the enemy, Deznee. You have a chance to be a part of something monumental. Something that matters. If you come back with me, I can show you.”

  Behind Dad, the twins stood, both with their arms folded and eerie smiles on their faces. That’s when it occurred to me the weapon wouldn’t be necessary—and why Ginger knew it’d be safe for me to come. They weren’t here to snag me. If they’d wanted to, it would have been easy to lie in wait beside my car and simply ambush me. This was something else.

  And that didn’t make me feel much better.

  “I’m not one of those brainless twits you have running around the building like trained mice.” I remembered the conversation with Flip, the guy I’d met in the cafeteria on my first day at Denazen. “I already know the truth. You can’t brainwash me into thinking otherwise.”

  Expression cold, Dad stepped a little closer and said, “You may want to rethink your decision. Three members of the Supremacy group have already been put down. You might have heard about the latest on the news. Layne Phillips?”

  “You’re telling me the girl in Morristown was a Six?” I’d already figured this out because of Brandt and the story we’d seen on the news, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  He simply smiled. We were around the side of the building and standing under an overgrown tree. The small amount of light that got through made Dad’s features look almost inhuman. Fitting. “And you remember Fin, right?”

  My stomach convulsed. “Fin is dead?” It was bad enough hearing about the others, but because I knew Fin—we’d gone to kindergarten and up through high school together—the whole thing seem more real. Closer.

  “Not yet,” Dad said. “The others started showing signs four to five months out. First it was a surge in their gift. Several months before they were rendered completely irrational, they all showed signs of advancement. Then, as their eighteenth birthdays grew near, they became unstable. Violent. They saw and heard things that weren’t there. Grew paranoid and delusional. Fin’s birthday is in a week, and four days ago, he started showing signs. It’s much later than the rest—a week is the closest we’ve ever come—so we can’t be sure what will happen. We’re still hopeful, but only time will tell.”

  A nagging thought stirred. I remembered the nail color change outside of Vince Winstead’s house at the beginning of summer. I’d mimicked it without pain—or even trying to. It hadn’t happened since, and it wasn’t what I’d considered a major surge, but it was enough to make me uneasy. “Has anyone survived?”

&n
bsp; Seconds ticked by. Just when I was sure he wouldn’t answer, he said, “As a matter of fact, yes. One. A very unique girl with a gift I think you’d find very appealing. Especially in your current situation.”

  “Well, what’s—wait…my situation?”

  The twins both snickered and continued standing guard.

  Dad’s smile widened, and he clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Yes. Very sad. I heard about your issue with 98.”

  “How did you—you know what? Don’t care. What about this girl? What’s different about her? How far past eighteen is she?” I couldn’t believe I was trying to have a rational, civil conversation with that same man who’d drugged my mom, then locked her up for seventeen years. I should have been trying to choke him. Instead, we were playing Twenty Questions.

  “She was given a vaccine. Something developed in hopes of a cure.”

  I almost dropped Ginger’s package and lunged forward to shake him violently by his overpriced lapels. “And it worked? Why the hell haven’t you given it to the rest of them?”

  “It’s made from a very rare component that we’ve recently discovered. There isn’t much, and we have no way to get more at the moment. I saw no reason to waste it.” His fingers drummed a steady beat on the doorframe. “Tell me, Deznee, what would you be willing to sacrifice for a cure?”

  And there it was.

  “We done? ’Cause I know, sure as shit, you didn’t expect me go along with this.” I attempted to brush past him, but he stepped into my path.

  “Actually, I did.” He reached for me.

  I’ll admit it. I panicked. The Devil of Denazen, Kale had called him once, and it was the truth. The man had no soul and wouldn’t think twice about shoving his own mother in front of a speeding train if it got him where he needed to go.