Unraveled i-2

by Gena Showalter

  Unfortunately, getting here hadn’t been that difficult. No one had tried to stop him, and his “gift” hadn’t been on the fritz. Tucker had cast illusions—something he’d been able to do his entire life. Whatever he envisioned in his mind, he could create around him. Or rather, make people think was around him.

  If he pictured a gutter, a gutter would seem to encase him. If he pictured a circus, a circus would seem to appear, with him in the center ring. On his way out of the hospital, he’d pictured himself as the wall beside him. Outside, he’d pictured himself in a T-shirt and jeans, rather than this paper-thin gown.

  So now, here he was. In pain, again, still weak from the vampire bites he’d endured only a few days ago—or maybe hours ago, he didn’t know anymore. Time was just…time. Ticking away, but not part of his awareness anymore. Maybe because he didn’t care.

  Which he didn’t understand. He’d been tied to a table as if he were dessert, and vampires—real-life freaking bloodsuckers—had been allowed to simply lean over and bite him. Anywhere they had desired. He’d wanted to die. But then, as the blood had drained from him, his body growing cold, his conscious mind dimming, he’d wanted to live. So badly.

  Then Aden Stone and Mary Ann had come to his rescue. He’d been so grateful. He’d thought, I’m going to turn my life around. I’m not going to cause trouble anymore. When I want to do bad things, like grinding my fist into as many faces as I can, watching the blood pour and hearing the screams echo, like stealing and fighting and hurting my mom with mean words just to hear her cry, I’m going to ignore the urges.

  Yet now, without the threat of death hovering over him, without the utter helplessness, without the drugs, he wanted to do all of those things again. And he couldn’t ignore the urges. On the way here, he’d punched a middle-aged man he’d never met, felt the guy’s teeth cutting into his knuckles, and had laughed. Laughed. Because he’d liked inflicting pain.

  I’m a monster.

  The only time those kinds of urges left him was when he was with Mary Ann. They’d dated for several months, and for those several months he’d been blissfully happy. Of course, being Tucker, he’d managed to ruin everything.

  She’d taken off one night, so he’d visited her neighbor and best friend, Penny Parks. He and Penny had tossed back a few beers, had stupid unprotected sex, and now Penny was pregnant with his kid. Or so she said.

  Part of him believed her. The human part of him that hated when he acted like a maniac. The other part of him, the part where all those urges churned, didn’t want to believe her.

  He needed Mary Ann again. Not as a girlfriend. Just as a friend. He wasn’t sure he’d ever really wanted her romantically. He just liked how she made him feel. She would fix him, make him better again. And maybe then he could be a better dad to his kid than his own father had ever been to him.

  Somewhere in the dark, he heard the whisper of cloth against flesh, the sound somehow far more obscene than the squeak of that mouse. Then, “You came,” a hard, emotionless voice said from the darkness. “Good boy.”

  The voice. Only this time, it wasn’t inside his head.

  As his heart pounded out of control, Tucker straightened. He still couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t a single beam of light in this crypt, and dust layered the air. Dust and death. “Y-yes. I try to be.” He would try to be anything this man wanted. “Who are you?”

  “I am your king.”

  Four simple words, but they changed Tucker’s life. Irrevocably. Yes. He belonged to the owner of that voice. It was strong, powerful, almost as if magic floated from each syllable, wrapping around him, tightening…tightening…controlling. More than being what this man wanted, Tucker would do whatever was asked of him, whenever it was asked. Happily.

  “Vlad,” he said, knowing the name deep in his soul. He inclined his head in reverent greeting, even though he couldn’t be seen. Or could Vlad’s gaze pierce the darkness?

  “Yes. I am Vlad. And there is someone else you know, Tucker. Someone I am deeply interested in. Aden Stone.”

  A statement, not a question, yet Tucker replied anyway. “Yes.” He couldn’t help himself. Must please Vlad. Must always please Vlad. “I know him.”

  “You will watch him.”

  “Yes.” No hesitation.

  “You will tell me everything you learn.”

  “Yes.” Anything. Everything.

  “That is good. I am counting on you, Tucker. Do not let me down. Because, you see, he took my crown, and when the time is right, I will take it back.”

  THE NEXT FEW HOURS of Aden’s life passed in a blur. Shannon realized something was wrong with him and tried to distract him, telling him about his day and how Mr. Klien, their chemistry teacher, had had him stand at the front of the class doing finger-strengthening exercises the entire period for dropping one of his test vials.

  At the same time, Thomas continued to barrage him with rapid-fire questions. “Why can’t my kind see or hear me anymore? Why did I disappear into a black hole after the vampire and werewolf left?”

  At the same time, Elijah demanded they discuss the coming vampire assembly. Plans needed to be made. What if there was a rebellion and someone tried to de-throne him?

  At the same time, Caleb outlined what Aden should wear to impress Victoria enough to make out with him. Black leather was a top contender. Whipped cream, too.

  At the same time, Julian wrote an I’m-sorry poem for him to give to Victoria. Oh, sweet darling, my heart bleeds. But you love blood. And I am mud. Forgive me.

  That’s when Caleb became mocking, and Elijah incensed. Blah, blah, blah.

  Through it all, Aden even thought he heard wolves howling in the background. Arf, arf, arf, he thought mockingly.

  His head throbbed. He couldn’t keep up with the chatter, the words and sounds doing more than blending together. They were creating an ever-increasing buzz that hammered against his skull.

  Finally, he gave up. He rolled over, closed his eyes and tried to block out all of them. Peace. He just needed a little peace.

  Soon, lack of rest and dying-by-proxy twice caught up with him, and he drifted in and out of agitated slumber. No, slumber wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t asleep, but he couldn’t move. Even when Shannon shook him, he couldn’t move or respond. It was like someone had tied his arms and legs to the bed. Like his eyelids had been taped open, and he couldn’t blink, even when his eyes dried and burned.

  What was wrong with him?

  He was vaguely aware of Shannon leaving the room and returning with Dan, who looked him over with concern. Dan tried to talk to him as he undressed Aden and tucked him under covers, but still Aden couldn’t answer. One, his jaw was as useless as the rest of him, and two, he simply couldn’t wade through the sea of voices, his awareness still being tugged in too many different directions.

  Besides, Dan would think he was crazy—like everyone had always called him—if he answered something incorrectly.

  Finally, Dan left and he sighed with relief. Short-lived relief. On and on the souls chattered. On and on Thomas spewed demands. Then Dan returned with Dr. Hennessy, Aden’s newest therapist, adding something more to the mix.

  Dr. Hennessy looked him over, as well, frowning but not concerned. The doctor was a short, balding man, with wire-framed glasses and cold brown eyes, and he never showed any type of emotion. He was clinical, impersonal and always radiated shrewd awareness.

  Questions were hurled at him. Aden could only decipher two words: catatonic and regressed.

  Were they talking about him?

  Of course they were. Pills were shoved into Aden’s mouth, and he tried to spit them out. Dr. Hennessy pinched his nose closed and held his jaw still, his purpose clear. If Aden wanted to breathe, he’d have to swallow.

  “Take your medicine like a good boy, Aden,” the doctor said crisply. “You’ve had these before. I’m not giving you anything new.” A sigh. “Still determined to resist? Well, if you don’t take them, I’ll simply
give you an injection. Wouldn’t you prefer to avoid a needle?”

  Only when his lungs screamed in protest and his throat began to convulse did he swallow. A second later, he could breathe.

  He sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air, but his I’m-going-to-live happiness disintegrated when he realized what he’d swallowed. Those pills always fogged Aden’s brain and put the souls into a stupor, two things he loathed. Two things they loathed. More than that, he needed to be clear-headed tonight. He needed… The blood-brain barrier was broken almost instantly, and dizziness washed through him.

  The fog he’d feared appeared behind his eyes, thickening, spreading, fuzzing his thoughts.

  “Sorry,” he managed to croak out, jaw once again working. “So sorry.”

  Julian was the first to quiet. Then Caleb, then Elijah, who fought the hardest to remain heard. You’ll need me, Aden. Tonight is…tonight is…

  Even Thomas, standing beside Dr. Hennessy, glaring down at Aden, began to waver, shimmer, there but not there, an outline without substance.

  “He’ll need to visit me tomorrow morning,” Dr. Hennessy was saying to Dan as he straightened, wiping his hands together in a job well done. “First thing.”

  Dan crossed his arms over his massive chest. He was a former pro-footballer, tall, wide, pure intimidation with pale hair and dark eyes. “He has school. If he’s well enough, and I think that he will be. He always pulls himself together quickly.”

  “He can miss one day.”

  “No, actually, he can’t. His studies are just as important as his therapy.”

  Thank you, Aden wanted to say, but didn’t allow the words to move past his lips. No reason to encourage attention or unwittingly admit he understood what was being said. Dan cared about the boys here. Truly cared. Even about Aden, as his insistence proved.

  “I’ll bring him to you immediately afterward,” Dan continued. “How about that?”

  “I highly recommend you reconsider. This boy doesn’t need to be in school, around normal children. I could take over his—”

  “Excuse me, Dr. Hennessy,” Dan said tightly. “I may not have a fancy degree, but I know this boy better than you do. He’s a good kid with a lot of heart, and he’s doing well here. He’s excelling in school with those so-called normal kids, and he’s even made new friends and gained confidence. He’s doing better than ever and I will not disrupt that progress.”

  “Yes, but he still talks to himself. And today, well, he lost himself inside his mind. I would hardly call that ‘better than ever,’ Mr. Reeves. Would you?”

  Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets, going all “well, shucks,” on the doctor, a sign Aden recognized as growing annoyance. “We all occasionally regress, as you said, but he’s pulling himself together.”

  “That’s the pills.”

  “That’s the boy’s strength of will.”

  Slowly Aden relaxed, rubbed a hand over his face. His vision was slightly blurred, his movements sluggish, but at least his mind was quiet. Still. Poor souls.

  The two men continued their conversation a while longer, until finally it was decided that Aden would attend class, then immediately be driven to Dr. Hennessy’s office for a session.

  Great. Those sessions were nothing but a pain in the ass. The good doctor always wanted to touch him. Nothing overt, and nothing too creepy, just a hand-holding, skin-to-skin thing. That, on top of the fact that he had to be in therapy at all, aggravated the piss right out of him.

  At last the men left, and Aden gingerly sat up. His stomach burned as if a fire had been set there, and that burn rose into his throat, his brain. More fog, more dizziness. He closed his eyes. In the distance, a wolf howled.

  So he hadn’t imagined the howling. Riley must be nearby.

  “S-sorry, man,” he heard Shannon say.

  His lids cracked open, and he saw that Shannon was beside the bed and crouched in front of him, his features tight with concern.

  “D-didn’t want to get Dan, but didn’t k-know what else to do. You were really o-out of it. Never seen you l-like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He blinked, doing his best to focus. “What time is it?”

  “About ten-thirty.”

  That late? Wow. Riley really would be here any minute. How was Aden going to sneak out now? Dan would check up on him throughout the night, Aden knew that he would. Apparently, that’s what people who cared about you did. Checked on you. It was new and wonderful and yet, hell on the social life.

  Something clanked against the window, and both Aden and Shannon turned. The glass rose, then Riley was there, smoothly climbing through. He was dressed in a black suit, was cleanly shaven and had his hair arranged in perfect spikes. In his arms, he clutched what looked to be a garment bag.

  “Shannon,” he acknowledged with a stiff nod.

  Shannon, who was used to Aden’s nightly visitors, nodded in return. “Riley.”

  “I’ve gotta borrow our boy for a little while.”

  Shannon frowned. “He’s b-been sick and needs his r-rest.”

  Riley frowned, too, gaze darting to Aden. “Sick? Again? How?”

  “Again?” Shannon’s focus swung back to Aden. “When were you s-sick before? What was wrong?”

  Oh, yeah. Aden hadn’t explained—or lied, as he’d planned—so Shannon had no idea how iffy things had been for him.

  “Shannon,” a musical female voice said from just beyond the window. Victoria had arrived. “You are tired. You must sleep now.”

  “Sleep,” the boy muttered, yawning. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” He scaled to the top of the bunk bed and lay down. He was softly snoring a few seconds later.

  So much power in one little voice, Aden thought. A voice she used liberally, but always to help him, so he didn’t want to complain. Even though a part of him sometimes feared she’d one day use that voice against him. How would he combat the compulsion to do what she wanted if, like, he made her mad and she told him to do something tragic?

  Don’t think like that. She cares about you.

  He blamed the drugs for his illicit thoughts.

  Still outside, she moved backward one step, two, though remained in a beam of light spilling from the room. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, he noticed, and several ringlets framed her pale face. Her eyes had been outlined in black and black glitter sprinkled on her lids. His favorite? Her lips were painted bloodred.

  From what he could see, she wore a silky black robe with thin straps on both shoulders and a neckline that dipped low in the center. New favorite, he thought. He even liked the metal bands winding around her biceps like thin, bejeweled snakes.

  She was breathtaking.

  Mine. The thought was his own, no one else’s. Because she was. His.

  “Aden,” Riley said, claiming his attention. “You were sick?”

  Aden nodded, and had to blink against the sudden renewal of dizziness. Stupid pills. He explained what had happened, what had been done to him. How he’d been drugged.

  Riley shook his head. “I don’t know how you deal with all those voices anyway. But don’t beat yourself up about it. One slip-up in how long? A year or more? That’s reason to celebrate. You know, at a vampire mansion. Like, now.”

  At least the wolf wasn’t snarling at him.

  “Help him dress, and I’ll ensure Dan stays away from this room for the rest of the night,” Victoria said from her outer post, and then was gone.

  Riley unzipped the bag he held. “I seriously hope you’re not going to make me do all the work.”

  “Please. I’d have to be dead to let you put your hands on me.” Aden stood—and almost tumbled back on his bed, his knees were so weak, but he managed to remain upright, and held out his hands. Several articles of clothing were thrust at him.

  He dressed quickly, and realized he was now wearing a suit almost identical to Riley’s. Black, silk, expensive. He brushed his hair and teeth, then splayed his arms wide, silently requesting inspect
ion.

  “Better, but not done yet.” Riley held out his open palm.

  Aden saw what rested in the center and actually backed away. “No. No way.”

  “You must.”

  The ring—Vlad’s ring—glistened with a luminous shimmer in the light. Bad idea, all the way around.

  “Your coronation ceremony will take place in thirteen days and—”

  “Thirteen days,” he interjected. That seemed relevant somehow. Familiar. “So why wear it now?”

  “As a symbol of your power.”

  Power? Please. He had no power. Not any that mattered.

  “We must go,” Victoria said suddenly, at the window again. “Everyone is waiting.”

  Riley arched a brow at him and shook the ring. “You’re king, ceremony or not, and the vampire king wears this ring. Always. Your people won’t take you seriously without it, and you’re going to have a hard time being taken seriously anyway since you’re human.”

  “Thanks for the newsflash.” I don’t want to be king, he thought, but he reluctantly pinched the band between two fingers and slid the thing in place. A large opal stared up at him, casting multihued beams in every direction. His foggy mind could have studied those beams forever, lost.

  He’d wear the ring tonight because, in their minds, he was king. According to their laws—of which he knew only this one—he who killed the king became king. But Aden planned to appoint someone else, someone deserving, someone competent and equipped. And soon. Without letting himself be killed.

  “Go.” With a push from Riley, he was stumbling toward the open window.

  Chilly air enveloped him as he climbed out and strode toward a dark blue sedan the pair had hidden a few yards from the ranch. Stolen, no doubt. They didn’t own a car, so Victoria “borrowed” one when she needed to be driven somewhere. Or rather, have Aden driven somewhere. All the while, crickets sang and wolves continued to howl.

  “Goblins out tonight,” Riley explained as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Though they’re thinning out, and should be contained soon.”

  Goblins. Little monsters who liked to eat human flesh. Aden hadn’t met one yet, but had heard the stories about sharp teeth ripping through human bodies like a knife through butter. Little wonder he wanted to put off that introduction as long as possible.