Vicinus (Walking Shadows Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  I remember those days, those fears that have weakened but still cling stubbornly on. In my heart I can admit I might have done the same but, “You still should have told me,” I whisper.

  “Yes, I should have,” he agrees. “I’d hoped to keep it from you and get rid of him so you’d never find out, so you’d be safe again–”

  “The whole time I was becoming his friend and you were plotting to kill him,” I shake my disgusted. “You even said it was okay to leave with him, be whisked away into a fucking fairytale! If you cared about me so much then why didn’t you just tell me so you could keep me to yourself?”

  “I wanted you to choose me,” he yells. “I wanted you to choose me while you had options,” he confesses quieter.

  “For such a genius this is not your finest work. What a damn mess,” I chastise coldly. “I can understand you wanting to protect me, I can understand you being jealous, and I can understand you wanting the stupid money. I can somehow understand your reasoning behind all of this but what I can’t get past is that you knew I cared about him and not only were planning on killing him but you asked me to do it.”

  “You know who we are, Maddy,” Yosef insists. “You know what we do.”

  “Not me! I don’t kill people, Yosef,” I snap acidly. “And don’t you ever dare ask me to kill a friend.”

  “I think we can both agree he’s not a friend,” he sneers.

  “Obviously,” I hiss, “but I didn’t know that at the time so the point still fucking stands.” I breathe heavily until I fear it might transform into tears. Trying for a last jab I seethe, “I don’t kill people.” My voice cracks on the word “kill.”

  He blinks at my raw emotion and shutters at the disappointment running beneath it. I feel as if any moment I might fall apart and I know perceptive Yosef can see it happening in slow motion and so he tries to stop it. He can be a brilliant tactician, but his brilliant move this time is to try and tug me towards his darkness where feelings shut off and ruthlessness takes over. It’s what he knows so it’s what he offers.

  “You did not more than a few hours ago and you were great at it.”

  I recoil from his words, refusing to remember the lives I took to escape. I’ve injured people before, my knife-throwing skills aren’t just for show, but I’ve never snuffed out a life. Never sent souls on their way like it merely part of a dance. Self-defense, I remind myself. It was self-defense. But Yosef is right, I didn’t stumble once and it felt good to be so competent at something and the potential behind that truth freezes my heart with fear.

  Yosef’s arresting dark eyes hold mine as he continues, digging into the only way he knows how to survive. “Blood has marked your soul and fate will follow its scent like a hound forcing you to use your gifts until drained dry, dripping blood for every body you slay. Do not think you’ve killed your last, only concern yourself with for whom you will dance.” I remain pinned by his cold ferocity. “I need you to live, Maddy. You do whatever it takes to live.”

  My heart struggles to regain its rhythm and I can only respond in silence as he pivots on his heel and I follow.

  He wants me to shove aside my qualms over right and wrong and be willing to do whatever it takes to survive. It’s what he did, what the others did, and now it’s my turn. My turn to snuff out my light and scavenge in the darkness just to live a little longer. But you see, whatever else I may feel for my parents, the secret book of truth my mom kept hidden beneath her mattress struck a chord within me and it’s been singing ever since. Maybe clinging to that song, clinging to my light, will kill me quicker, but I’d rather that than a life hurting anyone and everyone to help myself. How isolating, how horribly lonely, to live your life on borrowed time knowing you might have to sacrifice others to keep it and only then for a little bit longer. How could one ever have friends? Family? Any shred of love at all?

  I won’t do it. I won’t. I can’t. To know such truth, such life as was written in that musty tome…those who understand, truly understand, know that it isn’t even really a choice to follow the light because they know not only the consequences of turning one’s back but they’ve felt the rush of more and how could one ever let that go?

  Whatever path takes me, if I kill it will be to save. Peace does not come without battle. Innocents are not saved with well wishes. A path to victory cannot be followed without a light.

  I unravel my headphones and turn on my little music box, surety back in my steps.

  “If you can’t play that swing then boy you’d better sing a skee bop ba doo wap da…”

  Twenty

  The moment we stumble out of the cold into the gym I’m engulfed in Castor’s firm embrace. I bury my face in his chest and accept the comfort as well as the excuse to avoid looking anyone in the eye. Any moment now he’ll let go and I’ll be forced to begin confessing the rotten pickle I’ve gotten us into. Well, just me, I suppose. It remains their choice if they want to have any part of it.

  “Out of the way you big oaf,” Arcas complains. Shoving Castor aside he takes his place, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “This is for coming back alive,” he murmurs. Then quick as lightning he lets me go and smacks me on the back of the head.

  “Ow!” I cry, clutching my poor skull.

  “That is for not killing the twerp and coming to us sooner.”

  KJ rakes me head to toe scanning for injuries, body language, any clue as to what happened or what he can do this moment. He stands beside Yosef where they murmur too quietly for the rest of us to hear and I look away not wanting to see my name on either’s lips.

  Nyx offers me a brief smile then focuses on Yosef, interrupting his conversation. “We know there’s bad news to be shared so let’s get on with it. No more of this dreadful waiting.”

  “No more waiting,” Castor seconds firmly.

  Yosef doesn’t offer me the option of telling the story, instead we circle up and he commands the space. His rendition of the night’s events is succinct, factual, and detached from any of the emotion he let slip at the time. I’m glad he didn’t ask me to explain. I’d probably have cried, gotten defensive, and wasted time on the less important bits. The way Yosef tells it not only gets to the point but somehow spares me of any guilt for the situation though I disagree emphatically because this is all my fault. I brought trouble back and tracked mud throughout our home and now I have the audacity to ask them to help me clean it all up.

  Silence expands and my lungs grow heavy with each breath I inhale until I can’t stand it any longer. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, hot tears slipping down my cheeks.

  “Don’t,” KJ growls and my head snaps up in surprise. “It is not your fault your parents were swindled by smiling faces and healer’s coats. It is not your fault you grasped at a chance to escape and live free. It is not your fault that Hellhounds do not give up.” His gaze brands me and I’m shocked at the depth of feeling he aims towards me. “You are family. I will help.”

  Castor and Arcas both add their votes quickly then Arcas elbows Nyx in the ribs.

  “Oh alright,” she sighs. “I always knew you’d ruin us someday so why not today.” I tilt my head because despite her words she doesn’t sound all that unhappy. “Frocket gets no vote yet so it’s down to you, Yosef.”

  “I would have killed her, dumped her body, then told you she’d been a casualty and move our headquarters,” he says calmly. “That I did not, I think, says my vote quite clearly.”

  I can’t help the shiver of fear at the truth in his words and the trepidation that follows at knowing if push came to shove he still might. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ve let his reputation stake too firm a claim in my mind, coloring our every interaction, because if that moment in his room and the outburst before it and his confession only moments ago and a thousand other moments and confessions had occurred with anyone else it would be obvious what it meant and yet I’ve intentionally refused to see it, to even hope. But that isn’t important right now.

  “You don’t owe me
anything,” I remind them.

  “Oh don’t be dense, Maddy,” Arcas snaps and my eyes widen at his harsh tone. “You’re family, you’re in trouble, we will help.”

  “It is our way,” KJ nods solemnly.

  My brow furrows in confusion. “No it isn’t. For something like this you cut and run. You’ve all drilled that into me, or at least tried to, since I first met you. Bring trouble and you’re out.”

  “That was then,” Nyx huffs. “Get with the times, Maddy. Honestly,” she rolls her eyes. “Besides, if we’ve just stepped into one of Castor’s stupid sci-fi novels and you have powers then I’m definitely keeping you on my team.”

  Castor places a warm hand on my shoulder. “Our loyalty is to the Rolling Bones and you were a stray, an outsider. You can’t really believe that still holds true?”

  I shrug. I’ve spent the past four years trying to prove myself, to fit myself into this group of predators hoping they might decide to keep me and protect me. I guess I never paused to wonder if I’d succeeded, my focus fixated on earning that invitation on my eighteenth birthday.

  “It’s my birthday tomorrow,” I grin suddenly.

  “Eighteen,” Castor smiles back, “though our decision wouldn’t change even if it weren’t.”

  “We’d better stay the night here,” Yosef interjects. “I don’t want to risk returning home yet.”

  “I’ll check security remotely,” Arcas declares heading towards his gear to settle in and do just that.

  I rummage in the gym’s supply closet for a spare set of clothes so I can finally rip this ruined gown off when Yosef joins me. His jacket is gone and he’s rolled up the sleeves of his button down shirt. Why must women’s fashion be so much more uncomfortable than men’s?

  “Do I have a chance, Maddy?” he asks softly.

  I pause in my search to look at him and am struck but the vulnerability I find there. “I’m really pissed at you.”

  “I know,” he nods.

  “But,” I confess while calling myself an idiot, “you do have four years of affection on your side.”

  His mouth quirks up into a brief smile. “You did kiss Osman though.”

  “I didn’t kiss him,” I sigh. “He kissed me. I kissed you.” A blush breaks out across my cheeks and I mentally kick myself.

  “That sounds like you’re saying I have a chance,” he grins.

  “Just because I’m not choosing that psycho doesn’t mean I’m choosing you,” I tell him firmly. “But…I do forgive you.”

  His eyes sober quickly and he nods. “Maybe you need to choose you,” he says knowingly. “Just know that I’ve made my choice and whether you decide I have a place or not in your life, know that you can always count on me. I meant what I said before you kissed me. I want you to be happy and it doesn’t matter if it’s with me.”

  He reaches up and grabs one of the shirts I’d been stretching for and hands it to me before walking away. He always has to get the last word in, doesn’t he? And doesn’t he know how drained I am? How am I supposed to fall asleep when he keeps adding to the thoughts running through my head?? I’ve been falling in love with him for four years and dammit despite the hurt and all good sense I love him still. Hurrying to a locker room I change clothes, cursing the worst Christmas ever.

  KJ hands out blankets and I find a spot on a mat to collapse upon finding myself exhausted from, well, everything not to mention I was never much of a night owl and it’s nearly dawn now. Curled up, my head cushioned by my carefully folded shawl, I shut my eyes ready to drift away even as the others busy themselves with laying out more mats, shifting gear, discussing recent events, and bickering over spots.

  Anxiety over what waits with the dawn buzzes through my veins and I try to breathe slowly to shoo it away but it fights. Someone lays down nearby and when their hand closes knowingly over mine I pry open my sleepy, fearful eyes and meet Yosef’s. Promise burns in them until KJ knocks out the lights and we’re plunged into darkness.

  “Don’t leave me,” I murmur.

  His voice sings through the dark like an arrow aimed at my heart. “Never.”

  I squeeze his hand once, taking in the comfort of touch, then descend at last into a dead sleep.

  Fingers gently brush my hair from my face and a voice softly murmurs my name. “Wake up, Maddy.”

  “No,” I tell them. I can tell it must be late morning by the sunlight streaming in but I ignore it fiercely.

  “It’s your birthday and there’s cake.”

  My eyes fly open and I take in Yosef’s smirk. “Cake?”

  He rolls onto his feet and reaches down to help me up as well. Sure enough I see KJ’s lighter ignite a small candle on a cake just big enough for everyone to have a slice.

  “Cake!” I beam and dash towards the yummy goodness that fills my vision.

  “I would’ve baked you one,” Castor apologizes, “but under the circumstances…”

  I wave away his words because it’s the thought that counts. Everyone gathers around, Yosef coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle, and I accept their birthday wishes with a glee that has me bouncing on my toes.

  “Rise up and cheer, rise up and sing, another year lived may another year bring…”

  KJ holds the cake out towards me and I blow out the candle. Finally eighteen. I never really wanted to be a part of the crew so much as I just wanted to be a part of these people, but I’d take anything that would bind me closer to them.

  Yosef releases me and walks over to KJ’s side where they both don their scary business faces. “We invite you, Maddy, to join the Rolling Bones,” Yosef intones. “Do you accept and vow your life and endeavors in return?”

  I try to match the serious tone but fail miserably unable to cover up the giddiness still coursing through me. “Yes,” I say happily.

  “Then welcome, officially, to the family,” he concludes.

  Arcas swiftly kicks off the celebration with a cheer and begins divvying up the cake. No one as far as Arcas could tell had tampered with our home so we have time to relax, at least for a moment. A surveillance pair had checked it briefly at dawn and left once determining the obvious conclusion that we aren’t there but that was it.

  I love that my birthday is on Christmas day. The whole city is decorated and singing in celebration plus there’s the guarantee that I’ll get a present. Usually it’s one present for each person, but sometimes I even get two – one for Christmas and one for my birthday though the day is the same. Each year they come up with something fantastic whether a whole box of iced buns or skates, but this year’s gift is the absolute best. I resolutely try not to think about what Charlie gave me, wishing I could give it right back.

  Cake is devoured and the conversations begin breaking off from general merriment to Yosef and KJ plotting, Arcas and Nyx bickering, Frocket and Castor playing a card game, and I sit back watching them all with a warm contentment in my heart. Of course that’s the moment Prince Charming decides to show up. The knock startles everyone into silence and Arcas glares at Nyx for distracting his camera monitoring.

  “Osman,” Arcas mouths.

  I move to answer the door but KJ grabs my arm and Yosef opens it instead. “What do you want, Osman?” he asks blandly.

  Charles takes in the remnants of cake and smiles. “Is it someone’s birthday? Or is this a send off for Maddy?”

  Yosef’s face remains cold and unreadable. “You said you would message Maddy’s device, not drag your pampered ass to our door.”

  “Aren’t you wondering how I found you?” he asks a touch smug.

  “I assume by the tail you put on us when we left the hotel,” Yosef replies unimpressed.

  Charles’ face darkens unhappily. “You shouldn’t have been able to spot him.”

  “Oops,” is all Yosef says, still expressionless.

  “Well are you going to let me in or are we discussing this on the street where anyone can see us,” he says impatiently.

  “Th
e cameras aren’t a problem right now.”

  “Fine but it’s cold.”

  I sigh at the two idiots. “Just let him in and get this over with.”

  Clearly wishing he could punch him instead, Yosef steps aside to allow him in. “One wrong move,” he warns.

  “So what’s the cake for?”

  I look at this man whom I thought was a friend and now am very much unsure about. He’s not a friend, I remind myself sternly though I remain reluctant to give up. “It’s my birthday,” I tell him.

  His eyebrows rise. “No it isn’t.”

  “Yes it is,” I huff annoyed. He reads some files and thinks he knows all about me.

  “You forget,” he persists. “I know everything about you down to your shoe size and rate of growth from age zero to fourteen. I certainly know your birthday.”

  “If you think a bunch of data jotted down by scientists equates to knowing me then you’re a bigger idiot than I originally thought,” I growl.

  “You thought I was an idiot?”

  “Right from the first moment I met you.” He laughs and I cross my arms angrily. “If you must know, this is my birthday and I know that because my mom told me. At the time, the Confederation registered births in bulk by month rather than by day. Doesn’t matter what day you’re born within the month, it’s marked down as the last day. Individualist activities are illegal. The most we get are officially sanctioned acknowledgments given on the last day of each month.” With sorrow I add, “I’m the girl who went ice skating, who loves music and sweets. I’m the girl who was your friend. I’m not a bunch of data on charts and files.”

  To his credit, Charlie looks abashed. “It is easier to not become attached,” he explains quietly. “But you somehow smashed apart any chance of that and I’m still trying to figure out how. Forgive me for trying to resurrect that wall between us. Perhaps I should just give up.”