Until Beth

by Lisa Amowitz

  I had only a half-hour to clean up Xavier’s bloodstains from my carpet and make it down to dinner on time. I was on my hands and knees scrubbing and had gotten the worst of it out when there was a firm rap on my door. I knew in my gut it was Vincent.

  “Crap,” I muttered. “Just a second!”

  I swung open the door, smiling innocently.

  Vincent didn’t return my smile. “There’s no point in trying to hide what happened from me. Even if you could, it’s all over the school that Xavier violated his disciplinary contract.”

  “Jeez. I didn’t know he wasn’t allowed to sing. You just said to stay away from him.”

  “And did you?” His voice was measured and gentle, but it didn’t take a psychic link to see that Vincent was fuming.

  “He just showed up. I thought—”

  “You thought I make arbitrary rules. Or that I’m just jealous. Neither is true.” A tendon in Vincent’s jaw twitched. He was gambling that I couldn’t really get mad at him, but he wasn’t totally sure, I thought. “There are good reasons why certain Talents are strictly regulated. Yours, for one. They are not only dangerous to the Regular public but carry great risk to the Talented world as well. Xavier is one of the lucky ones. He’s still allowed to stay here, though I have no idea why.”

  Vincent brushed past me, pacing back and forth across my carpet, treading over the damp spot where Xavier’s blood had only just been scrubbed clean.

  “He doesn’t seem that lucky to me,” I said. “According to your crazy rules, it’s okay to make someone so ill they cough up blood. That seems pretty inhumane, no matter what he’s done in the past. What will they do to him now?”

  Vincent stopped pacing to glare at me. “You have no idea of the stakes involved in managing Talents. It’s like defusing land mines every day. You never know when one will blow up in your face.”

  I folded my arms, mildly pleased to have my own anger in check. If anything, I was upset at myself for disappointing him. “I still don’t see how a beautiful singing voice can be classified as a lethal weapon.”

  “Xavier knows exactly what his voice can do. You walked right into his trap.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You make him sound like an archvillain. If you ask me, he’s just a lonely lost soul looking for a friend, since everyone around here treats him like a leper.”

  Vincent whirled on me, eyes flaring. “Think what you want, but be careful. Xavier’s more slippery than you can imagine. And, just so you know, if your deadly Talent is manipulated by another to commit a crime, you can be held accountable as well. The punishment for that will make Xavier’s look like a slap on the wrist.”

  I checked my watch. “Is that all you wanted to tell me? Because we have five minutes to get to dinner.”

  Vincent stood by the window, staring absently, and ran a hand through his hair. The orange light of late afternoon cast blue shadows on the snow, slicing through the window and catching gold fire in his curls. Even sullen and pissy, Vincent was still achingly beautiful. I stepped closer to him, resisting the urge to reach out and touch one of those silky locks.

  “Actually,” he said, letting out a long sigh, but still refusing to look me in the eye, “Gideon and Monica have decided that you should have your Reveal after all. They concluded that not having one will cause even more speculation about you. They’ve even come up with a fictitious Talent for you. Since all new students are forbidden to use their Talents, no matter how tame, until they’ve passed their second-level training, no one is going to ask for a demonstration. Except at the Reveal.”

  I moved in closer. The air between us heated with a tangible charge. “Which means?”

  Vincent inhaled sharply and sidestepped me to get further away, but instead found himself wedged into a corner between the floral drapes and my desk. “They’ll say your Talent is to disguise yourself chameleon-style and no one will question it. Adaptation is one of the most common Talents.”

  I rolled my eyes, enjoying his obvious unease. “Pfffft. So what happens to Xavier now?”

  “He deserves whatever they dish out. Too much time and money has been wasted on him already, and to be honest, I have no idea why they don’t just ship him out of here for good.”

  “Harsh. But what will they do for an encore? Draw and quarter him? Lock him up in a stockade? What other medieval torture devices do they keep in the basement?”

  “House arrest for a week. He’ll get food, but he won’t be let out of his room.”

  I shuddered to think of the state I’d found Xavier in when I’d barged into his room the last time, and wondered if that strange frozen state was a part of his punishment.

  A stray thought bubbled up from somewhere deep in my mind. The moment I blurted it, judging by Vincent’s reaction, I knew it was true. “What they’ve been doing to him is real torture, isn’t it, Vincent? High Step thinks it’s above the law, doesn’t it?”

  Vincent’s eyes ignited. He wrenched me by the wrist and twisted hard, hissing in my ear. “Never talk like that.”

  As if surprised by the violence of his reaction, he let go of me quickly. I was breathing heavily, trying to force down the bile of my anger, but the ceiling over Vincent’s head had already started to dim. My throat tingled as a shadowy pool of darkness collected over his head. Vincent looked up as if he could see Death gathering in the air above him.

  “Please. Get a grip on yourself,” he whispered. “I-I’m sorry. Give me your hand.”

  I was hyperventilating, choking down my anger, swept up in my outrage over Xavier’s treatment and Vincent’s sanctioning of it, but reluctantly placed my hand in his.

  Vincent closed his eyes. Sandwiching my hand between his two, he slowly lifted my fingertips to his lips, kissed them, then pulled me into his arms. At first I was stiff and resistant, but it only took a second for his heat to sweep through me, dismantling my fury.

  “You wanted to know where the Talent leaves off and the real us begins,” he whispered, raising shivers up the back of my neck. “Right here.”

  My knees buckled as I leaned in toward his lips. We kissed, softly, tentatively, his breath sweet with cinnamon and oranges. Vincent pulled me hard against him, the kiss deepening, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Caught up in the want of him, I could still sense him working me, his thoughts probing mine, searching, softening knots, rebraiding my emotions to diffuse my anger and anxiety.

  But if it felt this good, I didn’t care.

  I relaxed, languid and boneless, yet with all of his efforts Vincent couldn’t reach the crystalline kernel of my anger over Xavier’s treatment. It remained untouched and safe, as cold and sharp as the edge of a blade.

  Vincent cupped my face in his hands and studied me, his eyes pale fire shot through with the gold and russet glow of the setting sun. “I never expected to feel this way about you. If I had, I would have turned the job down.”

  I let him hold me, hoping he really meant those words; and that how happy and protected I felt in his arms was not just another lie.

  18

  THE NOISY CHATTER WENT SILENT THE MOMENT I entered the dining hall, then erupted in earsplitting applause. I thought back to my first day there. From the start, this room full of cheering students had played along with the ruse that High Step was simply a school for artists and musicians. I knew I should be angry, but there was no denying the fact that I was as strange as the rest of them. That I really did belong here.

  I bowed and nodded to the admiring crowd. The talk was all about my impending Reveal, leaving me to conclude that High Step’s oddball student body didn’t need much of an excuse to throw a party. Vincent worked the crowd, stopping to chat at every table like the maître d’ of the dining hall.

  At Xavier’s usual table across the dining hall, a red-haired boy spooned food into One-Digit Della’s twisting mouth. A flicker of sorrow shuddered through me. No one said a thing about Xavier’s absence.

  My sorrow was quickly drenched by Lila’s full fron
tal assault. “People, people! We need to discuss decorations. Themes. We need a theme to end all themes. Any ideas?” Zuber, Prishkin, and Dawn stared at her blankly.

  “I like magenta,” I ventured.

  Lila grimaced. “Yeesh. How imaginative. Plus it will clash with your dress. Why are all of you so brain-dead?”

  “Not to mention your blue hair,” Zuber quipped. Everyone laughed, except Lila, who drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. My gaze locked briefly with Zuber, worry for Xavier shimmering in his dark eyes. I vowed to check in on him later, no matter what Vincent said. It was my fault he’d gotten into this mess in the first place.

  My attention returned to the ongoing debate. Lila was not pleased by the lackluster pool of ideas. I was at a loss over what would be a winning theme at a party for freaks.

  “Circus!” Dawn blurted. The girl spoke so infrequently that it was easy to forget she was there.

  “Hmmm,” Lila said, a finger pressed to her scarlet lips. “Not too shabby, Waverly. What if it’s a haunted circus? We could have ghost clowns, zombie jugglers, and a vampire ringmaster.”

  “I call Vampire Ringmaster!” bellowed Demetri Prishkin, shoving the shock of straw-colored hair from his sleepy blue eyes. Lila colored a deep rose and Zuber smirked. I snickered behind my hand over how blissfully oblivious Prishkin was to Lila’s obvious infatuation with him.

  The conversation bounced back and forth at breakneck speed until an actual idea popped into my head. “Wait, I think I have it. Zombie rock concert!”

  “That’s perfect, Beth,” Lila said, clapping. “Finally!” Then everyone started talking at once at high volume. It was decided that I’d perform with my zombie band to an audience of zombies. I found that I was actually excited to play some pure shrieking rock and roll in front of a live group. It seemed like it had been forever since I had.

  Vincent returned to the table and reluctantly agreed to be a zombie violinist in my band. Before I knew it, dinner was over and we all shuffled back to our rooms.

  Vincent walked me back, his touch respectful and distant, the earlier intensity between us muted. Tomorrow was my first full day of classes and lessons and I found that, though I was a little nervous, I was actually looking forward to it.

  Vincent kissed me chastely outside my door and bid me goodnight. I was disappointed that it was nothing more than a peck, but I was getting used to his mercurial moods. And if I was really honest with myself, I knew I wasn’t ready. Even with all the forgetting I’d done since coming to High Step, the loss of Sam still weighed heavily on me. Maybe I could let go, I told myself, if I knew what had happened to him. But with each passing day, that seemed less and less likely.

  My high spirits crashed and burned the minute I closed the door and I was alone in my room. A fire crackled in the hearth, shadows dancing crazily on the walls, but it did nothing to warm me. I crawled into bed, slipped under the heavy down comforters, and tried to read one of the books I’d apparently brought from home, but unwelcome thoughts crowded out my focus.

  As if a dam had burst, a deep ache for home rushed in. Remembering Xavier’s repeated reminders to keep my Blast Mahoney button close, I dug it out from under the mattress and clenched it so hard the metal point punched through the skin of my palm. Sucking on the small wound, I pressed my face to the cold window and peered into the night woods. I had no idea why, but the simple act of clutching that button helped keep my thoughts in focus.

  It could have been the wind whistling, but I swore I heard the tinkling notes of a piano solo echoing through the trees. Could I be Talented, yet still be losing my mind?

  The hours ticked by, but I was too wired for sleep. I knew I probably wouldn’t get away with it, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. Maybe it was displaced energy over the lingering mystery of Sam’s disappearance, but I decided to check in on Xavier.

  Nobody stopped me as I glided through the darkened corridors, but when I rounded the corner to Xavier’s hall, I spotted one of the massive guards from Gideon’s office leaning against the door. I lingered in the shadows, watching, knowing this was pointless. Then the door opened. The One-Digit Della lookalike strolled out, smiled coquettishly at the guard, and flounced right past me.

  It made no sense for her to be allowed in there if Xavier was under house arrest. I had to get into that room somehow to see what was really going on. Maybe there was another way in.

  From where I hid, I could still hear the howl of the wind in the rafters, beckoning me outside. Bristling with restless energy, I hurried back to my room, grabbed my down coat and a pair of waterproof boots, and found my way through the bowels of the compound to the same back door that Xavier had opened for me the first time I’d gone out prowling.

  Exiting through the student kitchen, I stood on the back porch, gazing up at the sky. The stars were a spray of silver dust across an ink-dark sky, the moon a crescent of gold. Wind bit through my jacket. I thought of Carson trapped in his useless body and wondered if he thought I’d abandoned him, or if he’d forgotten me like Monica said.

  A streak of shadow, an almost imperceptible smear, darkened the mist that coated the forest floor. And as soft as a trickling stream, the tinkle of piano keys rode the wind, calling to me.

  I traipsed through the snow to the edge of the woods, the pinprick on my palm burning. The snow-covered forest floor glowed eerily through the mist that curled around my ankles. A shaft of moonlight broke through the roof of skeletal branches and fell across the trunk of a great old oak. In the scant light, I could barely make out how the bark had been peeled away to form a clear spot. Something had been scraped into the wood. Squinting, I peered closer, operating more by touch than by sight.

  It was a crude heart, worn by age, with the words “Fragile Forever” carved inside of it.

  The shock of the familiar words knocked the breath from me. I ran my fingers over the grooved wood. It was real. Weathered and gray, it wasn’t recent, which meant it was probably there long before I got to High Step.

  I had no idea what this meant, but I was totally spooked. Trudging across the snow to the compound as fast as my legs could go, I noticed something that gave me pause. The building was dark, but two stories above the back exit a dim light glowed. I was certain, from its nearness to the stairwell, which came out by the back exit, that this was Xavier’s room.

  If I could haul myself onto the roof of the wraparound porch and up to the ledge that bordered the third story, there was a chance I could peer in. If I didn’t kill myself, that is.

  I already knew I was going to try.

  Standing on the porch rails, I reached for the ornate gingerbread woodwork overhead and, gaining a foothold on the cornice of the porch column, heaved myself up onto the porch roof. It was slightly sloped and caked with snow, so on my hands and knees, I carefully shimmied up to where the roof met the side of the building. Under the third-story windows was a narrow ledge, just wide enough for me to stand on if I could climb that high. Wedging my feet on the sill of one of the second-story windows, I grabbed for the lintel, using the windowpanes for foot grips. One slip and I was dead, but since I was already this far, why stop now? With a massive push, I pulled myself up onto the third-story ledge and prayed it wasn’t coated with ice.

  It was, but somehow, teetering three stories off the ground, I managed to find a foothold. I was okay, as long as I didn’t look down. There was a small crack in the heavy drapes through which I could see only a sliver of room. A dim nightlight on the table by the door had been left turned on. There was zero activity in there. If Xavier was in his bed, which was right beside the window, I wouldn’t be able to see him with my limited range. I pressed my face to the glass, not sure if I was seeing what I thought I was seeing—One-Digit Della’s empty electric wheelchair.

  I hadn’t really given much thought to how I was going to get back down. If I could shimmy a few yards to the small second-story porch, it would be simple enough to ease myself to the main porch roof and slip dow
n from there.

  I was pondering this when a rush of flapping black feathers startled me. My foot slipped and suddenly I was dangling off the ledge, holding on by one numb hand. My grip gave way. I fell, hitting the porch roof hard. Skidding, I rolled clear off of the ledge and landed in the snow, my left ankle bent in a way no ankle should bend.

  White-hot pain sliced through my leg; the slightest movement was agony. I pulled off my boot and was sick at the sight of the splinter of bone that had broken through the skin. I sank backward into the snow, dizzy with shock. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A crow landed on my chest and cocked its head, bright pebble eyes blinking. I wanted to tell the crow that this was all its fault, but I was too delirious to form the words.

  19

  I OPENED MY EYES TO THE SILHOUETTES OF THREE people huddled around me.

  “Lila?”

  “Shh. Quiet. I have no idea what on earth you were doing out here, but it was pretty dumb of you to go and break your ankle four days before your Reveal.”

  “I—” I stopped myself, because I had no appropriate defense. Meanwhile, my entire leg throbbed insanely. I glanced at my foot, which was dark purple and swollen like an eggplant. “How did you guys know?”

  Lila slanted her head. “Pluto, my bird. I was—“

  “Pluto was doing a remote fly-by on poor clueless Demetri and she spotted you lying out here in the snow,” Zuber cut in.

  “I was not spying on Demetri. I was taking Pluto out for some exercise.”

  “My eye,” Zuber snorted.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? I wanted to find out more about Pluto and what exactly Lila was doing, but my leg hurt too much. Meanwhile, silent Dawn bent over me, poking and prodding the injured ankle. I whimpered, biting back a yowl.

  “I can fix this,” Dawn whispered, so library-soft that I wasn’t sure I’d heard what she’d said. “But it’s going to hurt.”

  “What?”

  “Lovely Dawn has a very convenient Talent,” Zuber said. “She can melt and mend bones, among other things. You don’t want to get her mad. Of course, like the rest of us, her Talent is highly restricted. Outside of training she’s not allowed to use it.”