by Holly Hook
"You're right," Sven said. Then he winked at me. "I should take you out to dinner one of these nights. See a movie. Maybe we could even get into a club. My family has connections and we could even get into one where we have to be eighteen."
"You're so bad," I said. Maybe Tasha had been right that Sven was a bad boy in disguise. My parents would not want me hanging out with him.
But if Adler was right, my bio mother had done the same thing I had. She'd chased a Slayer around and died because of it.
"Felicia? Are you okay?" Sven asked.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just thinking about things."
"I know that you're scared," Sven said. "Too many people are putting a lot of pressure on you."
"Your sister followed me into the library today," I said.
Sven turned a corner and drove at a crawl as if he didn't want to reach the Water Company too fast. "She did? What did she say?"
"That you wanted to be an actor," I said. "And don't worry. Her Gem was glowing under her shirt, but she didn't notice. I'm glad you told her to tuck it under."
Sven looked straight ahead, almost as if ashamed of whatever he would say next. "Father wouldn't approve of that. He wants me to be a Slayer and take over the family business."
"But I know that's not what you want," I said. "Your sister—she wants to do that."
"Father's making it difficult for her," Sven said. "It would hurt his pride if a girl became a Slayer rather than I."
"Why does he care?"
"Because Father's always wanted to feel more special than everyone else. Being a man makes him feel above women. Being a Slayer makes him feel above Abnormals. Having money makes him above the poor." As he spoke, his words got more strained. Angry. "His age puts him above me."
"Sounds like he hates everyone," I said. The Water Company towered over the countryside up ahead. The more I learned about Sven's father, the more I hated him. "Did he get abused as a kid?"
"I don't know," Sven said. "He doesn't talk about his life before my sister and I were born. My mother left because of his cruelty."
"Your mother?" She had left her children with such a horrible person?
"She only wanted his money," Sven said. "Then she left once she had us. My father demanded custody, and she didn't fight. Once she had gotten in too deep, her freedom came first. It wasn't as if she could get us back, anyway."
I thought of how powerful the Wiglaf Society must be and I wasn't surprised that this had happened. "And your father told you this," I said.
"Yes. I don't know if it's true or not. I'm not allowed to know anything about my mother."
Sven pulled through the gate. Morton pressed the button to raise it for him, but he couldn't see us through the tinted glass. Sven pulled into a garage right inside the Manager's House. "I'm glad Father's work is right here," he said as the garage door lowered, putting us in darkness. "He doesn't have to commute, so he won't notice the miles changing on the car. Now let's get your stuff into my wing and then why don't we have fun?"
The tune's changed in no time. It was clear that Sven didn't want to talk about dark things right now. Maybe I didn't, either. My bio parents may have died a thousand years ago and I knew nothing about them, but a pain started in my chest whenever I think of what they could have been like. It was possible that they burned down villages and killed lots of people, but were other things possible, too? The dragons of Olivia hadn't emerged to torch the town or anything, despite being here for quite a while. And the rain I caused by mistake had brought the land back to life, at least for right now. Maybe the whole dragon thing didn't have to be that bad.
"Have some fun?" I asked.
"Yeah. If I put enough gas in this car, I might be able to get us to the beach in an hour or two. It's best if we get out of Olivia to spend time together, if you know what I mean."
"The beach?" I asked. "Sven. Yes."
"I'll grab something to take with us," he said.
"What?"
"You'll see."
We got out of the car after sharing another kiss. "Maybe we can run away," I said, my mind turning to the surprise.
"It's not that simple," Sven said. "I need to stay here for my sister. If I leave, then Father will turn all his aggression on her. She'll be the one he pressures into slaying a dragon before her twenty-first birthday. With me gone, he'll have no choice if he wants to continue the family business."
"But that's what she wants," I said.
"That's what she thinks she wants," he said, opening the door.
Sven led me through a cold, empty kitchen and upstairs. The Manager's House I'd never been in before, even when the Mustersons lived here, so I had nothing to compare it to. But Mr. Olsen had decorated everything with black leather furniture and dark drapes, as if he wanted no one to know about the Wiglaf Society. Two shining suits of armor guarded the entrance to a hallway, and another two flanked the stairwell that Sven and I had to take. Only faint alternative music came from upstairs, from where Sofia must stay holed up in her room. I was glad that there was something modern and familiar in here. It made the atmosphere less cold and more inviting even if the person listening to the music might want to kill me if she learned the truth.
"Sofia's not up there," Sven said, almost as if he were reading my thoughts. "She's out back training while Father's not here."
I shuddered. Sven placed his hand on my back, which chased away the chill, and led me upstairs. Once up there, we stood at a junction. One hallway led to a set of double doors that led into an office area. A glowing combination lock hung on the wall beside the door. The Manager's House would have had one no matter who lived here. It made sense. The other hallway, to the right, led to a balcony, a corner, and some closed bedroom doors. The music came from that direction.
"That's Father's wing," Sven said, nodding to the office. "He's not home. If he were, he would have armed the lock and it would blink red. That's to make sure no one disturbs him."
"Armed the lock?" I asked.
"Look close," Sven said. "At the floor."
I did. There was a spot in the white carpet where a thin metal bar ran through. The metal border ran all the way around the wall and the ceiling right in front of the double doors. It looked ominous.
"I see it," I said, not daring to raise my voice just in case Mr. Olsen was here. "What does that do?"
"You don't want to encounter the lasers," Sven warned me in a low voice. "They've almost hit me a few times. Father installs them at every house we ever live in as extra security for when he's inside. Once, a dragon shifter tried to get in and kill him right before I was born. That was back in Sweden. He wound up slaying the guy."
My jaw dropped, and I stared at Sven. For a moment, I forgot that this is a house of trained Slayers and Mr. Olsen has killed more than one dragon. It made his business aura somehow more terrifying. Mr. Olsen was a professional. "I won't go over there," I said.
"At least, not while the red light is blinking," Sven warned. He gripped my wrist and rubbed his thumb along the vulnerable inside, sending electricity up my arm. "He has regular locks on the doors, too. I've never been able to get inside his office. What happens in there is a mystery, but I assume that's where he talks to the other families of the Wiglaf Society."
I had the sense that Sven was trying to tell me something. "Why does he have to keep that secret from you?" I asked.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"Are you asking me to use my strength to open those doors so you can find out?"
"Felicia, don't put yourself in danger." Curiosity burned in Sven's eyes along with a need to know the answers to many questions. He didn't want to drag me into this, but his urge to know more about his mother trumped everything. He also wanted to know more about this Society he'd join as soon as he made his first kill. If I were him, I would demand answers before anything else. I knew what it was like to have people lie to you and cover things up for your entire life. It was no wonder than Sven and I got along so well. We understood each ot
her without exchanging that many words.
"If you need my help in finding things out, then I'm game," I said, standing on my tiptoes to deliver a short kiss. "The thing is, I don't know if I can break those locks. My strength doesn't work all the time." I scanned the hallway to check for cameras and went silent for a moment, giving Sven a chance to shush me if needed. But he didn't. "I know little about what I can do yet. Sorry. The thing I read in the library didn't tell me a lot. Most books about Abnormals were written by people like your father."
A sad look filled Sven's eyes. "I've read a lot. Required reading."
"Your father had to condition you."
"He didn't condition me," Sven said, turning away in a burst of anger.
"Sorry," I said. "That's not what I meant. I know you're not like him. I saw that when he yelled at you that day for showing me your archery. What I meant was that he tried to condition you."
That worked. Sven faced me and smiled. "And I know you're not a murdering monster," he said with that melt-worthy innocence. "Come on. Let me get you settled into the guest room and then I'll grab what I need to get and we can go to the beach."
He led me down the hall as if to escape our discussion, but darkness filled me as I mulled over what he said.
Sven didn't have a clue I killed his cousin—his cousin who might have moved here with him for that final chance to slay a dragon shifter and prove himself. I blinked and saw those burning wounds on the young man's chest, emitting smoke as the security guard leaned down, not knowing what to do. I should have told him he was mistaken, but my need for Sven was the only thing holding me together right now. We clung to each other as the world fell apart.
"So how many people are in the Society?" I asked instead.
We passed the balcony window. True to his word, Sofia was outside, handling a shining crossbow. She fired at one target. It buckled inward, right in the bulls-eye. Sofia was just as good of an archer as Sven and their father didn't want her to do anything other than be his domestic servant and then get shuffled off to a community college with no support. Even though Sofia was training to kill me, I couldn't help but feel a strange connection with her. Heat filled me as rage took over, pooling in my hands. An immense, instinctual hatred of Mr. Olsen filled my being.
"Here's the guest room," Sven said. "Father never comes down this hallway, so as long as you stay quiet, you'll be undetected. And if he detects you, he'll never suspect I've let one of your kind into the house. I'm supposed to be desperate to please him."
He stood there, holding my bags, waiting for me to open the door.
I took the handle and a smoky scent rose as gray tendrils burst to life from the wood surrounding the handle. The fire inside turned to ice as I retracted my hand, shaking it out. A few embers burned inside the door as it burned.
Chapter Four
"Felicia!" Sven said, incredulous.
"I didn't mean to do it," I said, shaking out my hands. But in my panic, the heat had gone. More smoky, ethereal snakes rose from the polished wood, wood that shouldn't have caught fire at my touch. "Do you have a fire extinguisher?"
Sven blinked and got his composure. I placed my hand back on the wood, trying to put it out, but the embers had crept into the wood itself, trying to eat and burrow.
"Yes," he said, running around me and heading back to the stairs. "Try to keep that from spreading. Fire won't hurt you if you're this far along."
I didn't like the way he said those last words.
Sven now knew I could set things—and people—on fire.
But did he know?
Of course not. I kept my hand on the door which gave off warmth. I tried to focus on preventing any oxygen from getting into the door, but I also detected that the embers were spreading through the grain. The door must be plywood underneath its wealthy exterior, complete with air pockets. The Olsens didn't waste money on stupid things like quality bedroom doors and golden toilets, then.
Sven thundered up the steps with a fire extinguisher in hand. "I don't want to hit you," he said, pulling out the pin.
I got out of the way and lifted my hand from the grain. The embers had spread in a large ring around the door handle like an army of parasites. My mind turned to what an agonizing death Jens must have had. Sven fired, and a foam that looked like dirty snow shot out and covered the door handle. Something fizzled as the embers died and the smoke went out, but now the door of the guest room looked as if a bag of marshmallows had exploded all over it.
"Um," I asked. "How are we going to clean this up before someone notices?" I eyed the other doors, which were all closed. Music continued to pump out of Sofia's one. "Sven, I'm sorry. I was thinking about how your father treats the two of you and it was getting me upset, and then this happened."
"It's okay," Sven said in that calming tone. "We can clean this up. Father might take a while to notice the damage to this door. I'll have a repairman come in and replace it tomorrow while he's at work. My family has a lot of connections."
He sounded so sure that it made me feel better until a new thought hit me. "What if I'd touched someone? I got angry, and then I got all hot and then this happened." My heart raced out of terror. What if I had touched Sven while in that state?
Sven swallowed. "My lessons taught me that a dragon shifter has to scratch someone with intent to make them burn. Living things differ from flammable objects. The worst that would have happened is that you might have set my clothes on fire."
"That's still not good," I said. "But don't worry. The hot feeling just left." My heart raced with a greater intensity than before. Scratched with intent. A part of me had wanted Jens to die in the mall, then. Some monstrous, instinctive part had committed murder, even if it was just in self-defense. And that part of me wanted to do the same to Mr. Olsen.
After I matured, I couldn't imagine it getting any better. Most likely, it would get worse.
The rain I caused and the freedom Adler promised had made me think maturing wouldn't be so bad when the time came. Now I was having second thoughts all over again. Or maybe my mind had done its best trying to cover up how horrible it would be.
"But don't I give you a hot feeling?" Sven asked, raising an eyebrow.
Curse his innocent puppy face. "You do," I said, "but I don't want you to land in hot water, if you know what I mean. I'll help you clean this door. Your sister will wonder what the heck happened. We need a cover story."
Sven and I rushed downstairs, checking first to make sure Sofia was still practicing on the targets. Check. My mind cranked as he handed me a bunch of rags from under the sink. We bolted back upstairs and went to work cleaning the mess together. The foamy stuff ran down the door as we examined the door handle. Being brass or something, the handle itself was fine, but it now looked like it had a black donut around it. A donut that had grown tentacles and was hard to miss. As soon as Sofia came up here, she'd see it.
"The only way we will get away with this," I said, "is by putting something over it. A door hanger, or something. A round one that's big and gaudy. No story will make her or anyone else think fire magic didn't do this." My experience with my adoptive parents had taught me which lies worked and which didn't. Only an angry dragon shifter grasping this door handle could have caused burn marks like this.
Sven frowned. "I think you're right."
Now I had put him in a bad situation. If his father found out about this—or his jealous sister told their father—something terrible could happen to Sven. "How often does your father enter this wing?"
"Never. But Sofia does."
"Then we need to keep her quiet," I said.
"I think we both know she wants my role," Sven said. "Getting me banished might be a way to accomplish that. And this might put you in danger."
I motioned for Sven to hand me my bag. He did, and I dug through to hunt for anything to tie over the door. That wouldn't work, either. "We need to remove the door," I said at last. "With tools, and not brute force. Tell your sister you got m
ad about something and kicked it, and you'll replace it. Your father yelled at you or insulted your intelligence."
I waited for Sven to tell me it wouldn't work, but instead, he nodded with a faint smile. "That's believable."
It was awful, thinking about those last two words, but the second we got the mess cleaned, Sven produced tools from the storage room. It turned out that while Sven had a knack for acting and fighting, he didn't know much about mechanical work. Having grown up on a farm, I'd gained experience in that department. I unscrewed the door and took it off its hinges with his help. We stuffed it down in the storage room which Sven insisted was unused by his father, who was too good to associate himself with any grunt work done around the house. "I guess you can't stay in the guest room now," Sven said once we finished and stood in the kitchen. Then he grinned. "We might have to go to the beach and spend an hour or two out there, figuring out what to do."
"I'm going to cause too many problems, aren't I?"
Sven gave me that pouty look. "I can't imagine what they would be. And when we get to the beach, I have a surprise for you."
I laughed.
And then the back door to the house opened—the same one that Mr. Olsen had used to yell at Sven for showing me his shooting skills.
"Brother," Sofia said. "I hear you talking to someone."
"It's Felicia," he said. "Wanted to show her the place, you know?" His accent returned. He was nervous.
"Just don't let Father know you let anyone in here," she said. "He hates visitors."
"Clearly," I muttered.
"And by the way," Sven said, "Ignore that broken door upstairs."
Sofia brought both hands to her face. "What?"
"I kicked it," Sven said. "I already took it out to the trash, but I will have someone replace it tomorrow. Just don't tell Father."
We got out of there after Sven walked up to his room without a word. Sofia retreated up to her space, leaving me alone. The glow under her shirt had vanished. Sven was right that the family didn't wear their Gems while at home.
Sven stayed quiet as he came back down the steps and again as we climbed into the BMW. He started it up.
