Invidious

by Bianca Scardoni

  What the heck was he trying to pull? “Let me guess, it wasn’t you, right? It was your long-lost twin.”

  “No.” He looked back up at me with deep, impenetrable eyes. “But I think I know what happened. I know who you saw.”

  “Congratulations. I already know who I saw,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I saw you!”

  “Yeah. You saw me.” He straightened his back. “Just not the ‘me’ from this Timeline.”

  “Exactly. Wait, what?” I felt like someone just sucker-punched the wind right out of me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t take the Amulet. I wasn’t there. I know I wasn’t there, yet you saw me.”

  “Clear as day.”

  “There’s only one thing that could explain that.” His voice was low—shrouded in mystery. “Time travel.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that some other version of you traveled back in time to steal the Amulet from me?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  I tried to process what he was telling me, but my thoughts were spiraling so far out of control, it was making me dizzy. “Why? Why would you—or future you do that?”

  “I have no idea why my Alt traveled back, Jemma.” His dimples made a minor appearance as he clenched his jaw muscles in frustration. “All I know is I wasn’t there.”

  I wasn’t sure what to believe. In fact, I couldn’t seem to tell up from down anymore. “How do I know you’re not just saying this to cover up the fact that you actually have the Amulet and you don’t want me going after you for it?”

  His face twisted as though my accusation inflicted actual pain on him. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  His voice was so sincere, it was hard not to believe him. Mostly because I wanted to. I wanted to believe him more than I wanted to breathe air, and if this were seven days ago, I would have taken his word as gospel.

  But everything was different now.

  “That’s just it, Trace. You already did it to me.” My voice cracked as the reality of the situation sobered me. No matter which way I spun it, it was still a jagged pill that hurt to swallow. “Whether you did it the other night, or you do it in a few months from now, it doesn’t change anything for me. The other night still happened. You still did it. The when is just a matter of time.”

  His jaw muscles pumped as he followed my logic.

  “I can’t trust you,” I realized. The crushing weight of the bitter end descended on me like an ice storm. “I can never trust you again.”

  “Don’t say that—”

  “I think you should go.”

  “I didn’t do this, Jemma. I wouldn’t do this—not now or ever.” His glimmering eyes fell heavy on me; on my soul. “You have to believe me.”

  “How do I do that, Trace? Tell me how to know for sure, and I’ll do it. I’ll believe every word you say.”

  The admission came out without my permission and it terrified me to hear it. On some level, I knew it was true. I desperately wanted to hear him say the words that would explain it all away—that would chase away the doubt and make everything between us right again.

  “Jemma.” He lowered his eyes, unable to deliver.

  “Go home, Trace.” I pushed the bowl of cereal away from me, my appetite having gone the way of our almost-relationship—right down the gutter. “Just leave me alone.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can. It’s easy. All you have to do is walk away from me. Just like you did at the church.” I squared my shoulders as the gut-wrenching memories of that night assaulted my mind. “I can’t trust you, and until I do—until I have proof that you didn’t do this—I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

  “And if that never happens?” Worry creased his features as he cocked his head to the side. “What if you never find proof that I’m telling you the truth? Then what?”

  “Then this is how it stays between us.”

  “Is that really what you want?”

  “Yes,” I answered, though the lump in my throat was singing an entirely different tune.

  “I know you don’t mean that,” he said quietly, moving around the island towards me.

  “Yes, I do,” I assured him, but my eyes faltered and I was sure he noticed it. “You’re dead to me.”

  “And you’re everything to me.” His eyes never left mine as he rounded the corner.

  My heart hammered in my chest as he closed the distance between us. Trembling, I took a step back, but he followed me, keeping the gap between us at a minimum.

  “Stop it.” I held my hand out, preventing him from advancing. “Stay away from me.”

  He was a storm—a raging hurricane capable of obliterating me, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to withstand its power. Every inch of my body wanted me to surrender to it—to him—to let him take me apart at the seams.

  He covered my hand with his, holding it against his chest like a quiet love song. I let the warmth from his touch linger on my skin before pulling my hand back.

  “I’m not what you think I am.” His hand moved to my face, his thumb grazing along my cheek.

  My eyes slipped shut as the pulsating sensation overtook me.

  “What I told you that night at the dance,” he said, lifting my chin so that I was looking up at him. “That was the truth. Don’t ever forget it, because I won’t ever forget you.”

  He lowered his head and dropped a soft kiss on my forehead. Before I had a chance to react, he pulled back and walked away, leaving me spinning, reeling, completely alone and utterly confused in the middle of my uncle’s kitchen.

  4. A GIFT FROM JUDAS

  The rain poured down from the heavens like falling hatchets, heavy and unforgiving of our sins. Inside All Saints, memories of Taylor haunted me at every turn. There was no escape from it—no reprieve from the pain. She was at every table I served, behind every door I opened, in the shadows of every corner I passed. I wondered if she was okay; if she was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. My heart was heavy with grief.

  She didn’t deserve to be thrown into this mess. She deserved to be at home, safe with her family, gossiping on the phone with Hannah or Carly, and getting her last-minute homework done.

  I put in the last order with Sawyer, the head cook, and started clearing the tables. The day had dragged on to unfathomable lengths, and I was beyond ready to get away from this place and everyone in it. I had so much on my mind; so much weight to carry on my tired, sagging shoulders, and I hadn't even scratched the surface of my problems.

  The door swung open, interrupting my thoughts. “Kitchen’s closed,” I called over my shoulder.

  “That’s quite alright. You don’t serve my kind of food here, anyway,” answered a sultry voice I knew and hated well.

  I turned with trepidation as Dominic made his way over to me, smiling deviously as though he could hear the fear pounding in my chest. He was dressed in his usual all-black attire and overcoat, and his blond curly hair was damp from the rain.

  “Good evening, angel.”

  “Go to hell, Dominic.”

  “Ah, such a lovely mouth. A moment of your time if I may? We have some pressing matters to discuss.”

  “Discuss this,” I said, giving him the middle finger. I tried to walk away, but he cut in front of me, quick as a fox.

  “As much as I would enjoy exploring the definition of such a gesture with you, I must insist you hear me out.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a hiss-like whisper. “It appears we have a shared goal. Perhaps it would be wise of us to lower our arms and join forces.”

  “Join forces?” I repeated, repulsed by the very notion of it. “The only thing I want to join with you is my wooden stake in your empty heart.”

  He flinched back, feigning hurt. “That was rather harsh, angel. Even for you.”

  “Get out of my way, Dominic.” I pushed him aside. “I don’t need anything from you
, and definitely not your help.”

  “Very well.” He followed me through the room as I shuffled between empty tables and chairs. “I was going to tell you about Engel’s plans for a certain piece of antique jewelry we both know; however, if you’re not interested in what I have to say—”

  “So help me God, if this is another one of your games,” I said, stopping dead in my tracks, “I will end your pathetic existence.” I turned to face him, arms crossed over my chest.

  “No more games, angel. I promise.” His lips curved up into a devious smile I knew not to trust.

  I didn’t believe him, nor did I trust him, but I was alone in this thing and desperately needed something—anything—that could give me the edge over my growing list of enemies.

  “My shift’s almost over,” I said, deciding to hear him out—for whatever it was worth. “Meet me outside in ten.”

  His grin reappeared. “I’ll be counting the seconds.”

  I stepped out of All Saints and into a torrential downpour. The rain came down fast and hard, making it difficult to see even a few feet in front of where I stood. Opening my umbrella, I searched the parking lot for Dominic and was just about to call it quits when I saw headlights rolling up at a steady pace, high beams flashing like a beacon of false hope. Dominic’s black Audi pulled up beside me and the passenger side door popped open, swinging wildly as though plagued by a mind of its own.

  I took a step back and peered in at Dominic. “I’m not getting in there,” I called out. “We can talk out here.”

  “In the rain?”

  I glanced around looking for some kind of shelter or safe grounds to talk, but came up empty.

  “Come on now, angel,” said Dominic, leaning across the armrest like a wolf on the hunt. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it at the church where there weren’t any witnesses. Doesn’t that afford me any points with you?”

  “Nope.” But, he did have a point. And it was raining an entire ocean’s worth of water.

  “You’re breaking my heart, angel.”

  “That would require you actually having one.” Rolling my eyes at him, I closed the flimsy umbrella and hopped into the passenger seat of his car, probably against my better judgement. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I clarified, rubbing my arms for warmth. “And keep your hands and teeth off of me,” I warned for good measure.

  “I wouldn’t dream of touching you, angel,” he said as he sped out of the parking lot almost as fast as the lie sped out of his mouth. “Unless you absolutely wanted me to.”

  “Right. Well, that will never happen. Like ever.”

  He didn't bother looking over at me when he said, “Never say never.”

  “Um, okay there, Justin.”

  “Justin?” He arched his brow at me, looking thoroughly confused.

  “He’s a—never mind. Start talking.”

  The wipers slashed back and forth at full speed though they barely made a dent in the blur of falling water.

  “Straight to the main event?” His onyx eyes poured over me like hot caramel. “I like it.”

  “Get to the point,” I snapped while grabbing the armrest for security. “And keep your freaking eyes on the road!”

  Dominic’s laughter filled up the space around me, irritating with its silky smooth vibration. I kept my eyes pinned on the road ahead, refusing to give him even an inch to work with.

  He settled down fairly quick. “Alright, angel. On to the matter at hand.” He took a hard right towards the hills and then settled into a steady pace as we coasted up the winding roads, the rain hammering hard against the windshield.

  “It appears we have a shared goal now that we’ve found ourselves on the same side of the war.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, we both want the Amulet. We both want Romeo dead—”

  “I don’t want Trace dead,” I quickly cut in. Death was far too easy of a punishment for what he did to me. I planned on making him suffer for a long time to come.

  “I guess I’m alone on that.”

  “Dominic.” I wasn’t even almost in the mood for this.

  “I jest,” he said, though there was no humor in it whatsoever. “We both want to get the Amulet back from Romeo,” he amended. “Is that better?”

  “Get on with it.”

  “The way I see it, we’re both after the same outcome; therefore, combining our efforts would only increase our chances of accomplishing our task.”

  “Why do you want the Amulet back?” I asked, spearing him with suspicion. “I know you don’t give a crap about Taylor’s life, so what’s in it for you?”

  “The satisfaction of helping—”

  “Don’t even try,” I said, halting him before he could shovel any more crap at me. “What’s in it for you, Dominic?”

  “Self-preservation.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Have you ever bothered to ask yourself why Engel wants the Amulet in the first place?” he asked, turning serious. “What could a centuries-old vampire possibly need with some old necromancy necklace,” he asked mockingly as though I should have already figured this out.

  “I assumed he wanted it for its protective powers,” I said, though that hardly made sense now that I thought about it. He’d already survived just fine on his own and even defeated several generations of Slayers. Why the newfound need for protection?

  “If only it were that mundane.”

  “Then what is it?” I could feel a thickness burrowing in at the back of my throat. “Why does he want it?”

  “There is only one thing a man truly wants in life,” he said, ready to impart his two-bit wisdom on me. “And that’s power. Absolute power.”

  “That’s what you want,” I corrected.

  “That’s what all men want.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” I nodded, deciding to play along for argument’s sake. “And how exactly does the necklace achieve that for him?”

  “Because by possessing the Amulet, he would then possess the ability to control the dead.”

  I looked at him like he was nuts. “Are you saying he wants to raise the dead?” They couldn’t even do it right two thousand years ago with the best Casters on hand. The only thing Engel would raise would be a couple of zombies—if he was lucky.

  “No. Not the dead, angel,” he said, glancing over at me ominously. “The undead.”

  “Revenants.”

  “Precisely.” He pulled up to the Blackburn Estate and put the car in park before twisting around to face me. “He wants to create an army of undead and come out of the shadows. An army of Revenants that will rise and fall to his every whim. Walking immortals that would be programmed to do one thing for him—overtake the world. Town by town, city by city—”

  “Oh my God.” The thickness in the back of my throat tightened into a noose-like choke.

  “And believe me when I say, I will not be controlled by anyone. Least of all Engel.”

  “You never had any intention of giving him the Amulet, did you?” I suddenly realized. “You were going to keep it for yourself all along.”

  He nodded, his expression haughty and unfazed. “The only person I trust to be in possession of an artifact that would essentially strip me of my free will is myself.”

  “So what now?” I asked, my head spinning a web of tangled possibilities. “You’ll help me get the Amulet back from Trace and then what? You’ll just try to take it from me again,” I accused.

  “I assumed we’d be on the same side now that you’ve been made aware of Engel’s plans,” said Dominic, visibly perplexed by my loaded question.

  “If I don’t give him the Amulet, Taylor dies. If I do, Engel wins and we all die.”

  “This can easily be resolved with a simple sacrifice for the greater good of all.”

  “I’m not sacrificing Taylor if that’s what you’re implying,” I snapped, glaring at him. “That’s not even an option.”


  “Very well then,” he said, thwarted by my refusal to abandon my friend. “There’s only one option left then.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, swallowing hard.

  “We kill Engel.”

  5. THE USUAL SUSPECTS

  Monday morning came at me jagged and unrelenting. Taylor’s parents showed up at school with two police officers after she failed to make it home for curfew Sunday night. They’d spent most of the morning interviewing faculty and students about her last known whereabouts, and since I was the one she was supposed to have been with this weekend, I was also the first one from the group to face the firing squad.

  I stuck to my story as best as I could—what with two seasoned cops hammering questions at me, and her parents watching on with tear-filled eyes. The truth was, it broke my heart to lie to her parents, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t tell them the truth, and as far as I was concerned, this was all going to be over with soon enough anyway.

  Taylor would be reunited with her family and friends...even if it was the last thing I ever did.

  “So, she never made it to your house Friday night?” asked Detective Morrison, the taller officer with the slicked-back, dark hair.

  I shook my head. “She told me she was going to stay over at Hannah’s instead,” I lied.

  “Hannah...?”

  “Richardson.”

  “Did she give you a reason?”

  “Well, I was planning on leaving early and I guess she wanted to stay until the end of the dance.”

  “Did you witness her meeting up with the other girl—Hannah Richardson, was it?” asked Detective Jones, the other officer with the sandy blond hair.

  I shook my head again and bounced a glance at her parents. I instantly regretted it. “N-no. She was walking back inside when I last saw her. I just assumed—” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, turning back to her parents. “I didn’t know this would happen. If I would’ve known, I—”

  “We know, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Valentine amidst a steady stream of tears. She had the same blue-gray eyes and golden hair as Taylor, though hers was pulled into a coil at the back of her head. “You couldn’t have known. None of us did.”