Ketchup’s lips twitch, a smile spreading across his mouth. “Did you just call me by my real name? I honestly didn’t even think you remembered it”
“How could I ever forget?” I say softly. “Your name means brave protector, and that is what you have always been to me, Ketchup. You’ve had my heart in your care since the day we met, and you always will. I love you so much. I’m so sorry for not being brave enough to tell you that sooner.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Ketchup whispers as he kisses me softly. “You told me when you were ready. All that matters is being with you. I love you, Vanessa Roth. I will always protect you, body, soul, and heart. I’m yours, forever.”
Words fail as Ketchup brushes his lips against my neck, slowly moving down toward my shoulder. I forget the pain as I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him closer. His body pressing down on mine should hurt, but I gasp as a rush of pure desire flashes through me. Ketchup pulls back in an instant and stares at me with wide eyes and a flushed face.
“I’m starting to understand what you meant when you said giving in to me would be distracting,” Ketchup says in a rush.
He falls to the side of me as his chest heaves. I’m struggling to get enough air as well, but I reach out for him, not ready to let go. Groaning, Ketchup pulls my back against his chest. He holds me so tightly that it would hurt if not for his intoxicating desire meshing with mine and threatening to make me tipsy.
Ketchup holds me in his arms long after the sun sets and leaves us in peaceful darkness. There are a million thoughts running through my mind—many of them about Ketchup with considerably less clothing on—but one thought not driven by my hormones sticks firmly at the forefront.
“Ketchup,” I say quietly, “I think there’s something wrong with my grandma.”
“Why would you think that?” Ketchup asks as he kisses a tender spot behind my ear.
I have to take in a deep breath to focus. “She wouldn’t come near me when I came home.”
Ketchup’s lips pull back from my skin. He props himself up on one elbow and looks down at me with concern in his eyes. “What do you think is wrong?”
Tears well in my eyes as I say, “I think she’s dying.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Two Evils
(Zander)
Instead of knocking on Annabelle’s apartment door, I unlock it with the key she gave me weeks ago. I know she’s home, but she refuses to leave the door unlocked after what happened with David. We both know that a lock isn’t going to stop David from breaking in here again. It’s a psychological comfort.
When I step into the apartment, I hear Annabelle’s cheery voice singing in the kitchen. Smiling, I lock the door behind me and drop my backpack on the floor next to the couch. Annabelle turns when she hears me crossing into the tiny kitchen. The grin she is wearing pulls me to her. She drops the spoon she was holding back into the pot of spaghetti sauce and reaches out for a hug.
As I wrap my arms around her slender frame, I close my eyes. The feel of her silky hair against my cheek mixes with the warmth touching her brings, and I suddenly have a hard time pulling away. Annabelle is the first one to pull back, but she’s reluctant to do so.
“Sorry,” she says as she presses a hand to my cheek, “the sauce is bubbling all over the stovetop.”
I look over at the stove and chuckle. “Sorry. I’ll clean it up later.”
Annabelle waves me off. “How was your day? You seem a little down.”
“Not down,” I say, “just worried.”
Moving the pan of sauce off the burner, Annabelle glances over at me with concern. “Is it Van? She seemed like she was doing really well last night when I was over.”
I shake my head and lean against the counter. “No, Van’s doing great, better than either me or Oscar ever did. I don’t know what Ketchup does, but as long as he sticks close by, Van can manage her new hunger just fine. Chris and David are even considering letting her go back to school in a few weeks, as long as Ketchup can rearrange his schedule to be with her all day.”
“Really?” Annabelle asks. “Wow, that’s so soon.” She smiles as she fishes through her utensils for a pasta serving spoon. “Van is a special case, though. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t sure Van would be okay with me telling Annabelle about her strange emotional hunger, but the time Annabelle has spent helping Van with the more personal aspects of daily life she was struggling with over the last few weeks, they’ve become friends. Every time I think about the differences between Annabelle and Ivy, I wonder how I could have ever been so blind. Then I remember the compulsion I felt to be with Ivy, and I know I wasn’t capable of making any other choice then.
“So,” Annabelle says as she hands me a plate of spaghetti, “what’s bothering you then?”
I smile as Annabelle adds a slightly burnt biscuit to my plate. While Annabelle is not the world’s greatest cook, she loves making her own food. The meals she prepares are fairly simple—nothing like the productions my grandma and Van are capable of—but I’ve never been a food snob like my sister, so I’m perfectly happy to eat whatever she makes.
Thinking of my grandma’s cooking invariably leads me back to the source of my unrest. I carry everything over to the couch and set my plate on the coffee table before speaking. “I think something is up with my grandma. She’s been acting strange the last few weeks since Van got home.”
Annabelle frowns as she sets her plate down. “I have noticed that she’s been a bit distant. I know you told me things haven’t been great between either of you and your grandma after learning about all of this, but I would have thought everything Van was going through would have brought them closer.”
“Yeah, me too.” I sigh. “It’s the opposite, though. Grandma avoids being near Van as much as possible. She tries to help and she’s does whatever she can to make sure Van is comfortable, but she keeps her distance.”
For a while, Annabelle is quiet. Her thoughtful expression makes me patient. “Zander,” she says slowly after a few minutes, “what if your grandma isn’t staying away because she’s afraid or worried Van is still mad at her? What if she has a more physical reason?”
Scrunching my face, my first response is to pass off Annabelle’s suggestion. There’s no way my grandma wouldn’t tell us if she were sick. She’s too practical for that. If she were really worried about her health, she’d talk to me, make plans. Van is only sixteen. She would want to make sure everything was handled, so Van and I could stay together. I shake my head, not wanting to believe it. She can’t be sick. She just can’t. I don’t know how to even process that.
Annabelle lays a gentle hand on my forearm, pressing her other hand to my cheek to stop my head from shaking. “I know you don’t want to think about losing your grandma,” she says with tears in her eyes, “but what other explanation could there be?”
My blood goes cold as her words sink in. I can’t imagine not having my grandma around every day, but I know Annabelle is right. Oscar and I going through the eruption of our full hunger was frightening. There were several close calls that would have left anyone scared to be around us. That never stopped her from being there when we needed her. She isn’t staying away from Van because she’s scared, and she wouldn’t let Van being angry stand in her way of caring for her. She would stay away if being near Van would hurt her, though. As well as Van is doing, the physical and emotional pain a serious illness can cause would send Van into a frenzy.
My heads falls into my hands as I admit to myself that even I have felt something around her. I suspect Van’s hunger can do something mine can’t, but my grandma has been in pain lately. I wouldn’t let myself believe it was anything more than age and stress, but I can’t hide from the truth any longer.
Annabelle’s soft caress tries to ease my sadness, but it can’t stop the panic from rising in my chest. “If she really is sick,” I say, looking up at Annabelle in fear, “what will happen? What if David tries to gain custody of Van? Sh
e’s still underage, and what court is going to give me custody when our fake uncle with unlimited resources and buckets of political power wants to scoop her up? David has enough pull to make sure the courts know that I’m just as dangerous as Oscar. He’ll tell every secret I have, and make up the rest. I’ll never get custody of her. Emancipation is out of the question, too. Van’s disciplinary record would kill that right away.”
Annabelle’s complexion pales. “He’ll use her and her abilities for whatever he wants. She won’t have a choice.”
“I can’t let that happen,” I growl. I will not let David manipulate and coerce my little sister into doing things I know she would never want to do. Every muscle in my body strains against the desire to crush him. “What if the Eroi could help me?”
Blinking in surprise, Annabelle asks, “What do you mean?”
“They despise the Godlings. Maybe for good reason. What if we could find Ivy and convince her to talk the Eroi into helping us? It’s what we’ve been working for anyway, just the objective has changed. I want to bring them down, but we need them right now. We’re so close, Annabelle. We can find them. I know we can.”
Annabelle’s beautiful eyes are filled with fear. “That’s a huge risk to take, Zander. What if they don’t want to help? What if there are good reasons that the Godlings hate them? Look at what they tried to do to your family.”
“I know,” I snarl, “but what are my other options?” I curl my fingers in my hair, squeezing to the point of pain. “Trusting David is not an option. You’ve seen him hound me during training to recreate whatever I did when I fought James. He’s obsessed with it! He thinks I’m the Gift, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he plans on using me as a weapon against the Eroi. He’s no better with Van, either! He knows she’s hiding things from him. Hell, she’s hiding her true power from me!”
“What do you mean? What is Van hiding from you?”
I shake my head angrily. “I don’t know. There’s something she’s not telling me, though. Ketchup knows what it is, but he’ll never betray her trust.” I sink back into the couch as frustration threatens to take over. “The day Van came home, Ketchup started to say something about some kind of incident that happened with Noah at school. He clammed up right away and Van sent us packing, despite the fact that it was incredibly dangerous.” I drag my hands down my face. “I think she can do a lot more than she’s shown anyone, and that scares the hell out of me because I know David will want her power just as soon as he figures out what it is.”
“Is going to the Eroi really the answer, though?” Annabelle asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling helpless. “I don’t know who to trust because I don’t know why this war is happening. It’s all wrong. Everything we’ve learned from the Eroi book is tainted by their warped perspective, but it’s no better when we study the Godling book, either. They both claim they’re in the right, the righteous soldiers fighting for freedom. Nothing we’ve read gives the real truth behind where the Godlings come from or what their true purpose is. All Ivy’s book tells us about is how she should train and why it’s so important for her to die for her beliefs.”
I push away from the couch and pace, trying to burn up some of the agitation and frustration drenching me right now. Annabelle sits quietly, watching me with a pained expression. Her hands twist together. Scenario after scenario runs through my head. Trusting the Godlings ends with slavery, but trusting the Eroi ends in death. I don’t know if there’s another way. I can’t see a place to hide that they won’t find me. And how do I run with Van, but leave Oscar behind?
Falling back against the wall, I slide down as despair washes over me. I don’t know what to do. I sit with my head hanging, crushed my head between my hands, until Annabelle’s feather-light touch draws my face up to meet her gaze.
“I’m coming with you,” she says simply. And then, before I can argue or point out that I don’t even know where to go to find the Eroi, Annabelle says, “I know how to find them.”
“What?” I snap out of my haze and stare at her in disbelief. “The Eroi? You know how to find the Eroi? How? When did this happen?”
Annabelle strokes my face softly, attempting to calm me down. “I realized they had already given us the answer today. We were just looking in the wrong place. It’s not in the book,” she says, “it’s on it.”
I shake my head, confused. “What?”
Standing, Annabelle reaches down to help me up. I follow, though I feel lost. She pulls me over to the couch and sets her laptop between our plates of uneaten food. The screen lights up at the touch of her fingers, and the image of the front cover of the book greets me. Even as I look at it, I don’t understand.
“The symbol right here,” Annabelle says, pointing to a circular symbol filled with spirals and dripping with blood. “I didn’t think anything of it until I was listening to a math lecture about the Fibonacci sequence. I had learned about it before, as well as the Fibonacci spiral. It hit me, then, what was on the cover.”
“The Fibonacci what?” I ask. Math has never been my strongest subject.
“The spiral represents the golden ratio, a logarithmic growth pattern where the end of the spiral gets further away from the center by the same factor with every quarter turn,” Annabelle says excitedly. “The spirals in the symbol aren’t perfect golden spirals, but they’re close.”
I appreciate that Annabelle noticed this, but I have no idea what it has to do with anything. “So the spiral helps you find the Eroi how?”
“The equation!” she beams.
“Huh?”
Annabelle grins. “The spirals are a code. Each one has an equation that describes its shape. If you take the spots where the three spirals intersect, you get points of reference. Coordinates. If you know where the center of the middle spiral falls on a map, you’ll know where their compounds are. All we have to do is figure out where the starting point is.”
My eyes close as I try to process everything Annabelle just told me. I have no doubt that she is right. I shake my head as I realize I probably should have made this connection sooner. Ivy loved math. She was far more advanced than any of the other students in her grade, in the whole school. Maybe her dad really did teach her because he too loved math, or maybe the Eroi made sure she could always find her way home if she needed to.
“Annabelle, you’re a genius,” I say, feeling unusually tired after the emotional rollercoaster the last few minutes have been. “How do we find out where the starting point is?”
Grimacing, Annabelle says, “I’m not sure. That’s what I need your help for. I know you don’t like math very much, but you do well in geometry, right?”
“Well enough.”
“Good. What we’re going to do is use the points I came up with to make a shape and then try to fit that shape to all the possible combinations on a map. The symbol isn’t big enough to cover the whole globe, and I’m sure they have more compounds than what this symbol shows, so I can only guess that the spirals on this book are pointing the way to their regional holdings. That should narrow it down a bit.”
I barely have time to blink before Annabelle is pushing things aside and laying out her plans on the coffee table, handing out instructions and talking a mile a minute. Keeping up with her takes some work but, eventually, I start to understand what she wants to do and we get to work, our dinners forgotten under heaps of maps and papers filled with calculations. The cheap plastic clock in Annabelle’s kitchen ticks away the hours until everything comes to a halt.
“I think I found it,” I say quietly.
“Hmm?” Annabelle looks up from her papers, only half paying attention.
“I think I found the Eroi.”
Her eyes fly wide open. “You did?”
She crowds in next to me as she looks at the map printouts I have placed carefully in front of me. The red dots I colored in are scattered over half a dozen printed pieces of the western third of the United States. Annabelle’s e
yes dance over each dot as she considers them. I can tell by the confusion in her eyes that she doesn’t understand why I placed them where they are.
“It wasn’t just the center spiral,” I explain. “It was all three spirals. Each one represented a state, showing how three states connected. If you put the exact center here where Nevada, Utah, and Idaho connect, the coordinates line up perfectly.”
Annabelle shakes her head. “But none of your dots are on cities. They’re just random points.”
“They only look like random points.” I touch each one individually. “Every dot follows the same pattern. It’s in a wilderness area outside a town of similar size. The Eroi took the same approach as the Godlings in building their compounds. They wouldn’t put a secret training facility in the middle of the downtown shopping district. They’re in out-of-the-way spots where they can work in secret.”
One corner of Annabelle’s mouth turns up as she realizes I am right. “Now who’s the genius?” She laughs, shaking her head and focusing back on the maps. “Now the question is—where do we go to find Ivy?”
“She told us she was from California, but my guess is that most of what she told me was just part of her cover. I don’t think there’s any way we can know for sure which compound she might have been taken to,” I say, some of the excitement of solving the puzzle dissipating.
Annabelle touches the map carefully, tapping a spot in southern Colorado. “She was pretty badly injured when they grabbed her, right?”
I grimace. “Yeah, she was.”
“Well, why not start with the one closest to us? She needed medical attention, so they would take her where she could get it the fastest while still staying safe.” Annabelle sits back against the couch. “Even if she’s not there, two Godlings showing up asking for help at an Eroi compound is bound to give them a moment’s hesitation before they kill us. They’ll want to talk.”
Wicked Power Page 27
