no, no, no, tori, you don’t have to tell anyone. why should you?
I don’t want to hurt people! I’ve never wanted to hurt people! I’m…I’m not meant to be a Revenant, this isn’t fair, this-this is Larissa’s fault, I would’ve never been in there-and you, this is your fault! You shouldn’t have been there either!
no i shouldn’t have, the voice murmurs bitterly, but she ignores it.
I have to tell someone…I have to call…the Department of Thanatology, they deal with Revenants, they know-
you don’t know what it’s like, being a known revenant. trust me, you don’t want people to know what you are.
It’s not a choice!
She’s trembling.
Suddenly she sees her entire life collapsing around her. No more high school. No more dance practices or routines or competitions. No more going to the movies or the library or the museum or the aquarium or the zoo, she would be detained and kept by the Department of Thanatology indefinitely, because she’s dangerous, because she’s a monster-
they’ll keep you alive for a year or two, and then they’ll pull you apart, piece by piece, trying to see what makes you tick. but when they’ve gotten bored of you, when they get a new specimen, they’ll make you into a weapon, have you heard of them? have you heard of Scythes, with a capital S? your soul will be trapped inside a sheathe to be used and re-used until it’s broken. no heaven or hell or whatever it is you believe in, just gone, dissolved into a pile of black dust one day-
Stop it!
you don’t want that, do you?
No! But I have no choice, it’s my-it’s-
The voice grows irate.
She shakes her head, feeling some of its irritation affecting her.
you always have a choice. you can go your entire life without using your pulse. you can still have an entirely normal fucking existence if you want. just keep your mouth shut and don’t ever draw your pulse, even in emergencies. this isn’t the end of the world, drama queen.
I don’t…I don’t have a Pulse, do-do I?
every revenant has a pulse, girl. it’s their soul, their energy, the source of their power, everything. the only reason you’re still alive right now, still breathing, walking, talking, is because of it.
But where’s mine?
She spins around, looking all over herself.
Not a scale or tail in sight.
The voice seems amused.
you don’t even know how to draw it. so you won’t. it takes a certain amount of determination and…emotion that a bland little girl like you would never know. you don’t need to out yourself, girl. just live your life. pretend i’m not even here.
“Well that’s the other problem,” Victoria hisses. “Even if I don’t tell on you, I’m stuck with you! I don’t want you here!”
and i don’t want to be here, but we’re stuck with each other now. wouldn’t you rather be stuck with me in this comfy room, with nice food and nice clothes and nice things than in a government lab for a year or two before they deconstruct you and churn you up into a dozen pieces?
She does not trust that voice.
But…
wouldn’t you rather-
I don’t want to hurt people.
so don’t. you don’t have to. it’s up to you.
it’s all up to you.
all i’m saying is that it’s much better to be out here, and undead, than in a prison cell, and undead.
your choice, tori.
and think of it this way. if it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.
if it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in some basement.
being dead isn’t so bad.
in fact.
it’s a second chance.
20
“-the recent spike of Revenant activity in the outer city-”
“-reinforcements from Franklin have been sent, however, most are unwilling to brave the Pravus-”
“Honestly, what is the government doing about this Revenant problem? They need to bring in the military, not these Necrologists. What good are scientists in this situation? If we’re ever going to be rid of them-”
“-rumors that the government is considering asking the High Queen for assistance, however, the constituents of the city strongly disapprove of this course of action, as witches are known for collecting heavily on debts-”
Victoria’s had a headache all morning.
Part of it is from lack of sleep.
She’d been up all night, trying to penetrate that dark, hidden corner of her mind, but Malek had not been forthcoming. He shied away from any attempts to learn more about him. He hadn’t lashed back, but she could sense that he was doing his best not to. She could sense just a fraction of the power he was holding back and it scared her.
In the end, all she could do was try to get some rest, but she couldn’t even do that properly because now that she knew Malek was there, it felt like she had a worm inside her, a parasite, a-
that’s so unfair. technically, i’m the one keeping you alive. that’s not the definition of a parasite.
She scowls.
Civics had always been one of her weaker subjects, and today, she has even less ability to focus than usual.
The teacher chatters on about local governmental structures while she slowly and painstakingly goes over every news report she’s ever watched or read about Revenants, the trails of destruction, the senseless violence, the brutal deaths and horrid disappearances, the corpses mutilated and found by civilians.
She had heard of the Pravus, of course, who hadn’t?
A band of Revenant thugs from far away known only as the Grey Lily had come to Res Novae some time ago and systematically invaded and destroyed a large section of the outer city. They had cut off all transportation and communication with the inner city for the past few years and claimed the territory as their own. The “Greys” as they were more commonly called, had named it the Pravus and declared it a place where Revenants were welcome, but humans would be killed on sight. Their acts of terrorism are known far and wide, feared by all, their name notorious, their true numbers unknown, and their mysterious and wildly speculated upon agenda deeply and unequivocally hated.
How a politician was planning on dealing with them was often first on the agenda come election time.
did you live in the pravus? she asks Malek.
She can sense him blinking, or at least, doing the mental equivalent of pausing and considering the question (which is somehow, in some way, meaningful to him).
But he says nothing in response.
She scratches idly at her notes with her pencil.
She’s never seen a Pulse, not even on TV.
They don’t show up on low quality cameras, and sometimes not even high quality cameras, and it isn’t like many people survive being close enough to a Revenant to take a picture.
What does mine look like, I wonder?
She touches her throat.
Scratches her ear.
Where would it come from, my Pulse? Is it my life force or my soul or…are they the same thing? Is a Pulse different than both of them? Do I still…have a soul?
In spite of herself, she’s curious about Pulses, hers in particular.
But it doesn’t matter, she decides.
She doesn’t have any intention of using it.
you sure? it could be really cool, Malek grins.
…I might be one of them, but I don’t have to be like them. I won’t use it. As long as I don’t use it… I’m human.
i guess so. but you may be a dead human.
Victoria feels a chill run down her spine, a coldness that feels suspiciously like ghostly fingers, tracing her vertebrae.
What do you mean?
But he says nothing more for the rest of the period, merely humming quietly to himself.
Thankfully, her next period is the twenty minute lunch break.
The cafeteria used to be a place of great anxiety and insecurity for her, but since she joined the dance t
eam, it’s become tolerable, as she usually has at least a few teammates who’ll let her sit with them. Today, she sits by Larissa and two of her friends, who aren’t on the team, and two other girls, who are.
“Speak of the devil, and she will appear!” Larissa crows loudly as Victoria approaches.
Victoria grips her tray tighter, instantly uncomfortable as the entire table, and indeed many of the surrounding tables, stares at her.
“Um…what?” she laughs nervously as the other teenagers smile mischievously.
“I was just talking about you!” Larissa smiles. “About the parade!”
Victoria feels her heart stop.
Her body becomes stiff with apprehension, her hands sweating, her eyes tearing up already, her throat tight, her stomach tied up in knots.
Malek perks up.
“I mean, I’d like to say I’m surprised,” Larissa snickers. The rest of the table laughs with her. “But I’d be lying.”
Victoria grins weakly.
Is the tray cold or are her hands hot?
It feels slippery.
“Larissa, you’d better watch out or she may steal me away,” Rana says teasingly, winking at Victoria.
Larissa chuckles.
“Dressed like that? I didn’t know you were into butches, Rana.”
Rana squeals with laughter.
Right now, Victoria really does wish she wasn’t a Revenant.
Because she wishes she’d been shot through the skull on the sidewalk, where she would’ve died a merciful, swift death.
One that would’ve gotten her out of this.
“How could you not know? Why else would she be your bitch, Larry?”
Larissa, basking in the satisfying glow of teenage cruelty, freezes.
So does Rana.
And everyone else.
Most of the cafeteria seems to be listening in on their conversation now, since Victoria has been standing still in front of their table for a while now.
And Larissa and her friends are loud.
But now silence reigns over most of the room, for the first and possibly only time.
Victoria’s mouth falls open.
Did I…did I really just say that?
“For someone who likes girls, that’s awfully misogynistic, you know, Tori,” Larissa snipes. “Calling someone a bitch for no good reason.”
“I had the perfect reason.”
Victoria’s mouth is moving, but she’s not the one doing it.
It’s Malek.
She almost stops him, but her stomach still feels like jelly, her mind overheated with shame and fear. She lets him take control almost gladly, his cold, icy anger stabilizing her nerves and making her feel slightly better (stronger).
“And what’s that? You can’t take a joke so you decide to resort to childish name-calling? I’m not homophobic, but that’s just pathetic,” Larissa says, slowly standing up.
Her friends nod, looking at her adoringly and throwing Victoria nasty looks.
“Oh I can handle a joke. How else could I deal with you every day?”
Victoria giggles inwardly.
She senses Malek’s smile a split second before she feels it spreading her own lips into a cocky grin.
The cafeteria oohs.
Larissa’s face is red with anger or embarrassment or perhaps both.
“W-well if that’s how you feel, then don’t even think about sitting here,” Larissa fumbles.
bitch’s out of gas already. what a pity, i like a girl who knows how to play with fire.
“Aw. But this bland, tasteless cafeteria food goes so well with your table,” Victoria, or rather Malek, drawls. “Oh well. Guess I’ll go to the bathroom and eat there. Just think about it! The view is much nicer, the smell is better, and the best part? The shitholes in the bathroom talk less.”
And to Victoria’s elation, Malek gently, carefully, guides her body away from the table.
And out of the room.
Conscious of every eye on her body, but for once, not feeling self-conscious or afraid.
She feels confident.
Unafraid.
She revels in their awed stares, their admiring glances.
Their…respect.
man…why are the hot girls always bitches? Malek sighs. i wish she really were gay, then maybe we’d have a chance at some hot gay hate sex.
I’m not gay.
you’re young.
Victoria takes back control of her body.
To her relief, Malek easily and immediately relinquishes the control he’d taken from her.
He retreats back to his corner, and she stumbles to the bathroom.
She sits in a stall and begins to eat.
Now I don’t have anywhere to sit at lunch…
skip it. let’s go somewhere. hell, let’s skip the whole thing. let’s go clubbing instead.
Victoria snorts.
You dragged me out to that club, didn’t you?
guilty. come on, i’m bored.
That’s not my problem.
i’m so horny.
Gross! I’m telling you right now, don’t you EVER take control of my body again without my consent, ok? I was willing to let that last one go because it was…cool. But I don’t want some…creep’s tongue down my throat ever again, do you hear me?
Malek lets out a little whine.
but creeps are hot. well. except that one you met at the parade.
What?
In between bites, Victoria pauses.
What creep?
that journalist fuck. the one who worked for the post.
In her mind’s eye, she sees the journalist smiling strangely, watching her throat, his hands twitching slightly as he shoves them in his pockets.
Malek is showing her this, his own perception of what happened.
But she brushes the image off as paranoid, recalling her own memory of the event.
He was nice. He’s not a creep, he’s a gentleman.
those are the worst kinds of creep.
The only creep here is you, Malek.
He snorts.
i wish.
21
“Good riddance.”
“What?” Aunt Paula mumbles through her food.
Victoria blinks.
“Uh. Good subsistence?” she tries, smiling down at her plate.
Paula quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything more as the news blares on the television.
Victoria grimaces into her food.
For the most part, Malek is…surprisingly accommodating.
He’s been quiet, only snickering to himself from time to time and having brief, slightly grating rushes of condescension whenever she says or does a certain thing. Occasionally she’ll feel a burst of random anger, an anxious intensity, but it’ll pass if she breathes deeply and counts to ten.
He also doesn’t comment on every aspect of her life.
Even though she can always feel him, can always sense him in some way, it’s become more tolerable, as there are times when he’s just there.
Not talking, thinking, brooding, murmuring, or making a nuisance of himself.
He’s just there. Like a song you can’t force out of your head, but one you can live with, a daily rhythm of life.
She doesn’t feel like a Revenant.
Like a crazy person.
There’s no desire to hurt people.
And even though she can sense Malek’s restlessness, he hasn’t tried to make her do anything lewd or aggressive.
He’s slightly annoyed by high school and other students, but he doesn’t take over her body to make snappy comebacks or inflammatory remarks anymore. He just does a mental eye roll, she feels a flicker of irritation, and then he drifts off into his corner to brood (about what, she isn’t sure, since she still can’t penetrate his little corner of her mind).
But this little outburst…
Good riddance?
He shrugs and says nothing more, but there’s a cold fire brewing in h
is corner. She feels it seeping into her bones, making her heart swell with mysterious passion.
You’re happy the Revenant city got attacked? Do you hate the Pravus? Did you live there after all? Were you a member of the Greys?
Her eyes widen.
Do you know the Grey King?
He doesn’t answer.
Victoria scans the TV.
The Department had finally acted on the promises it made months ago to try and flush out the Revenants living in the illegally annexed Pravus.
They’d sent in their own units and a few units from the National Guard in around 5 a.m. They had managed to drive off patrolling Revenants and stationed sentries from the edge of the eastern boundary of the Pravus.
Then the Revenants living in the affected neighborhoods had run away, leaving the seized land to be occupied by humans once again (not that anyone would be interested in living that close to Revenants).
The news reporters are swarming the area, all set up outside the ruins of the buildings, the stores and offices, the theaters and parks.
The place reeked of neglect, dereliction, but…
“It’s only a matter of time before we completely drive out the rest of these thugs and make our city safe again!” the Mayor had said. “We’ll have this place fixed up in no time.”
Victoria smiles.
People could return to their homes. Re-open their shops. Begin to rebuild their lives.
The Pravus could be re-taken.
The taint of evil and corruption could be purged and replaced with hope and humanity again.
you got those mixed up, kid.
Her attention snaps back to Malek.
What?
But he says nothing.
And his presence reduces as he “sleeps” (his term, not hers, since he’s not so much sleeping as ignoring her for a few hours).
Whatever.
If he wants to be cryptic, then let him.
She’s in a good mood today; he won’t ruin it.
“You ready for the competition?” Uncle Timothy asks.
Victoria smiles.
“Yes! I’ve been practicing a lot.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Aunt Paula says unexpectedly.
Victoria feels something tight and warm in her throat.
Her uncle is smiling. A little awkwardly, but kindly enough.
Paula pats her quickly on the shoulder as she shuffles into the kitchen.
Victorian Tale (Victorian Tales Book 1) Page 5
