No matter what the Red Court dictated, things could always get out of hand because too much hinged on the Favored playing their parts just right. I wondered if April’s accident happened because someone the Red Court tasked to take her down went too far. The thought flew circles around my head, dizzying me with the repercussions. If one of the Favored was at fault, I’d never know, never be able to make them pay. But there was someone else within reach. Mia was about to get her due.
I was looking over my texts with Haley when I almost ran headlong into Gideon.
“What are you doing down here?” I knew Gideon’s schedule by heart and his next class was Lit on the third floor. The history hall, located on the ground level, was completely out of his way.
“Looking for you, Em.”
He’d been acting strange since that day in the hall, when we saw all of the photos.
“I’ve barely seen you recently. Even my dad is noticing.”
There was a desperate edge to his voice that I hadn’t picked up on before, and behind that, there was an undercurrent of resentment. It was true that the Red Court was keeping me busy. Between our current task, school, track training, and debate, I hadn’t had time for much else. The realization left me with a guilty conscience, which wasn’t a feeling I appreciated since most days felt enough like an emotional roller coaster and I didn’t need anything else adding to the ups and downs.
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been MIA, but I need you to understand what I’m trying to do. Of everyone, you’re the one person I need to be ok with. Every other relationship in my life is complicated except ours. I take that for granted. I know I do.”
“Then make it up to me.” The muscle along his jaw ticked as he fought for composure. “If you’re going to go around advertising that I’m your best friend, then be my best friend. I get your crusade. I don’t agree with it, but I can see that it’s important to you. But you haven’t even been to my house to help me pick which photo I should submit for the Winter Showcase. Just know that I’m not a fan of being an understudy in your life.”
I fought through a fresh wave of guilt. “I will. How about movies on Friday at your house? I’ll bring everything, come to you, and that way your dad can see that I’m still alive and haven’t abandoned you. We can look through your top options, and I’ll tell you which is the best of the best.”
Gideon gave me a smug look, which meant that he accepted, and turned to go to class.
“Better move your ass. You’re going to be late!” I called after him.
He shook said ass at me.
* * *
After school ended and the halls emptied, I pulled a Jack of Spades from the deck in my locker to write Mia a little note. Last year, Mia’s best friend had a serious boyfriend and was pulling away from her. Fortunately for Mia, the Red Court had the resources to make sure that relationship met an untimely end. What could I have her do so that fact never came to light? Probably anything. The thought was chilling. If knowledge was power, then secrets were its currency; the Red Court had both in spades.
I moved down to Mia’s locker and, channeling my best Haley, I wrote a note in stark black lines. It was as unlike my handwriting as I could manage.
Your job is to do what we say, not improvise.
Secrets only stay secrets if you play along.
Try again.
I pulled the skeleton key from my bag and jimmied her locker open. I looked over my note again and smiled. The cards made sense now. There was something personal in the delivery, something of mine carrying the weight of the Red Court behind it. I kissed the Jack and placed it on the top shelf.
Sealed with a kiss. You’ve been outmatched, Mia.
CHAPTER 14
“EMBER!” GIDEON’S DAD called out delightedly as he opened the door. “Gideon said you were coming by. Come in, come in! It’s been so quiet without you around.”
If Gideon was my mother’s favorite person, I was his dad’s surrogate child. We used to joke that we could just move into each other’s rooms and our parents would probably send the rest of our things in boxes to follow.
“Hi, Brent,” I said and gave him a hug. He was a fast-forwarded version of Gideon, with the same shock of dark hair. Brent’s had a silver streak shot through one side that made him look quite dashing for a dad, even in an old Cal tee from his days at Berkeley. From what Gideon said, Brent’s Match.com profile was the talk of the single ladies in their neighborhood.
When you met his dad, Gideon made even less sense. How could such a soft-spoken, kind person make a Gideon? He was raised by his well-adjusted dad in a supportive environment. Granted, Gideon’s mom was out of the picture, but not in a bad way. Gideon’s parents met in college, and she was a free spirit who had decided shortly after Gideon was born that a quiet life in the suburbs wasn’t for her. Gideon’s dad preferred stability for their son, so they parted ways. I liked to joke that even though he didn’t have her hair, he sure acted like a fiery redhead. She kept in good contact, had never missed a birthday or Christmas, and came to visit whenever her travels brought her through town. She was a pretty cool lady, and Gideon agreed.
The abnormality of Gideon’s good relationships with both of his parents, ones built on trust and honesty, only added to the mystery of it all. Regardless, I couldn’t help but be grateful for whatever strange alchemy shaped the truest friend I’d ever had, snarky attitude and all.
“I’m upstairs,” Gideon called from his room.
I slipped off my sneakers and placed them in the spot of the shoe rack reserved just for me.
“Stop by before you head out and we can catch up. I have some leftover bulgogi you can take home. You need to fill me in on everything that’s been going on,” Brent said as I started up the stairs.
“Excuse me?” Surely Gideon wouldn’t have told his dad about the Red Court, right? That was the kind of thing parents frowned on. Mafia-like hits and blackmail weren’t polite dinner conversation.
Brent stared at me for a beat, also confused. “School? Track? Debate? You have to let me know how things are going.”
Sagging with relief, I said, “Sure. Will do!”
I pivoted back toward the stairs and bounded up the flight to Gideon’s room.
“Finally,” he said when I dropped onto his couch next to him.
Gideon’s room was like a thesis in Gideon. Posters, framed photographs, and sculptures in varying shades of gray were all strategically placed, and all had special meaning. Gideon didn’t buy anything, make anything, or accept any decor as gifts without heavy consideration. The things he selected were an extension of some part of himself, something he loved.
“Please,” I said. “I’m right on time. As always.”
I set my stuff to the side and scooted forward to examine the prints he’d laid out. “Which is your favorite?”
They were arranged in a row so we could look at all five side by side.
He squinted one eye in consideration. “I’m not sure yet. The theme for photos is ‘Past, Present, and Future’ and I think these are the best options.”
Each shot was beautiful, even to my untrained eye. The way Gideon caught the edge of a building to give the main subject a better sense of place without taking away from the shot’s focus was brilliant.
After a few minutes, he nudged the corner of one of the prints. “This one fits the theme, but I don’t want to pick it if it’s not my best.”
I considered the photo, seeing what he meant. The image captured a small abandoned auto-repair shop with the windows boarded up. It was cast in the shadow of a new office building under construction, and behind them was Downtown Denver. He’d managed to capture a sense of change and uncertainty. It was stunning. “That’s the one.”
A flash of a smile was gone almost before I registered it. “Thought so. Submissions are due in a couple of weeks, but I think this
is ready to turn in on Monday.”
I grinned and unloaded my bag of goodies, handing Gideon his. Mine were a bit more sensible, but his tended toward junk food.
“What else did you bring?”
I’d downloaded two movies to my laptop to mirror onto his TV. One I hoped he would pick, and one I knew we’d end up watching.
“I have The Notebook and I have—”
“Gosling,” he said without waiting to hear my other option.
“But—”
“There is nothing that could dissuade me from Ryan Gosling.”
“It could be another Ryan Gosling movie for all you know.”
Gideon hooked my laptop up to his TV and signaled to me to start the movie. “Could be, but it isn’t. It’s probably a Bond movie or something like that.”
It was a Bond movie, actually. Gideon had zero appreciation for a good spy movie. Even though my life was full of subterfuge, Bond still held a lot of appeal. His version of spying and righteous might seemed a lot cleaner than what I was dealing with. Odd, considering he was constantly killing people.
Gideon dug into the snacks I brought and sighed contentedly when Allie and Noah’s love story began. We’d seen it dozens of times, but it never failed to strike a chord with my friend. Maybe he only pretended to be jaded and was really the normal one. Liking happy love stories was the kind of thing regular kids did.
“I hate Rachel McAdams’s face.” He tossed a buffalo ranch chip at the screen.
Or he just really liked Ryan Gosling.
Watching a cheesy romance wasn’t my thing, never had been, but watching movies with Gideon definitely was. As busy as the last few weeks had been, I hadn’t realized how much I craved some normalcy. Now that I was here, back to our old Friday night routine, I almost wanted to cry from relief. On the other hand, having things I cherished also reminded me of how much I had to lose. When you were in a high-stakes revenge game, losing had the potential to destroy not just my life but those of the people I loved as well.
Hold on a little longer. You’re almost there.
“Hey,” I began when Ryan Gosling was off-screen. I didn’t dare talk while Ryan was gracing us with his presence. “Are we good people?”
“What?” Gideon’s eyes swiveled reluctantly away from the screen to meet mine. I repeated my question.
“Depends on your definition of ‘good.’”
“If you have to qualify what ‘good’ is, then I think that answers my question.”
He paused the movie and turned to me. “What’s all this? Since when do we care whether or not we count ourselves among good people?”
“Since I got involved in some shady business and realized how good at it I am.”
“You only joined to dismantle them. A lot of people would qualify that as a decent sort of thing to do.”
Gideon studied me in a practiced way, reading my face and pushing past any pretense I might be using to hide behind. I both loved and hated that he could see so much of what the rest of the world overlooked.
“But I’m doing some bad things along the way.”
“It sounds like you’re asking me if motivation matters. If motivation can determine whether or not a completely justifiable act is a good one.”
I nodded. Gideon could reach into my head and pull out the exact thought I wanted to share when words failed me. This I unquestionably loved. There was so much doubt in my life right now, but Gideon and I understood each other and that made the uncertainty of other things bearable.
“I don’t know, Em. Determining whether the ends justifies the means is above my pay grade.”
I sighed. I’m sure Gideon knew the answer I wanted to hear, and that was why he wouldn’t give it to me. He was forcing me to face the part of myself I’d seen in the mirror after the photos in the hallway surfaced. It was the version who enjoyed threatening Mia, the one I pulled up from the darkness I kept carefully hidden inside. Would this small fraction of who I was take over entirely before the Red Court fell? There was no way to know, but I had a feeling I would need to embrace more of that sliver of my personality to get revenge. And soon.
* * *
After movie night, I reluctantly slogged home. My dad was parked on the couch watching the evening news. For some reason, his welcoming smile snapped my brittle nerves and tears escaped onto my cheeks.
His eyes widened. “Ember, honey, what’s wrong?”
I walked over to him and allowed myself to be enveloped in a hug. I didn’t often let him hug me, but his warmth was comforting, and I sank into his side.
“I’m just having a rough day,” I mumbled into his chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head, hoping the strength of his hug was enough to hold my broken pieces together. There were no explanations to give when you were out for blood.
“Ok. Then maybe I could talk to you. I was hoping for some help.”
I sniffled and roughly brushed my tears away. If my dad needed me, I would be there for him in any way I could. He asked for so very little from me or anyone else. My independent streak had to be a Williams family trait, passed down from one stubborn parent to their child.
“What’s up?”
“I was thinking I could take your mom out someplace special for our anniversary.”
I laughed. “Dad, that’s, like, five months from now.”
“I know! I really need to get moving.”
He shifted so he was looking down at me, all earnest expression and guileless smile. “Do you have any suggestions?”
I tried to think of what my mom would like, of what she perhaps wished for when she blew out her birthday candle. She wasn’t into designer labels or fancy restaurants. The only thing my mom ever seemed to want was all of us together. Family was the most important thing to her. That must be another thing I inherited.
“Maybe we could do a weekend away in the mountains. All of us together,” I said to him. “I can help plan it.”
Sadness touched my dad’s hazel eyes. “I don’t want to put anything else on you, honey.”
“No, Dad, it’s ok.” I placed my head back on his shoulder. “Taking care of the people I love is the most important thing to me.”
CHAPTER 15
THE FOLLOWING DAY was my last “working” Saturday with Haley. Homecoming was the next weekend, so we had only a few more days to wrap up our plan.
Haley ran through the details from step two. Our rumors of Maura winning combined with the work of our smear campaigns against the other nominees should be enough to get our girl elected.
“That brings us to phase three,” she said, tapping her nails against the screen of her tablet.
I swallowed a large bite of the hummus and veggies Haley had brought. “Finally. Alright, let’s hear it.” I was ready for this job to end. I needed to direct my attention to the real prize.
“Thursday night we sneak into the school.”
I gaped at her.
“I know. It’s a tall order, but it’s the only way to be certain.”
“All this work. We’re guaranteeing her a victory with everything we’ve done.”
“No, we’re putting her in a place to win. There are no guarantees of victory. We’ve laid the groundwork for her win to be possible, hell, probable even.”
I let my snacks fall to the ground with a thud. “I can’t believe this. We’ve put in weeks and weeks of work only to change the final result if we have to?” I was incredulous. Beyond incredulous. I was angry.
“Ember, the Red Court is about subtlety. I know it’s hard to understand now, but this is the way of things.”
“Like that takedown in the hall. That was real subtle.” I snapped my jaw shut hard enough to grind my teeth.
“You saw the sign in the hallway. He owed us and didn’t feel like paying up
when the time came. Typical popular-guy attitude. No one is out of our reach, and the cleanup crew loves their work.”
“What, we have janitors in the Red Court?”
Her lips thinned into a straight line, a sure sign Haley’s patience was running low. “We have a team that is dedicated to making the people who don’t play nice pay for it. You have to really love that kind of work to do it all the time. It wasn’t like it was me, so what’s your issue?”
Not even this new bit of Red Court truth could deter my disgust. The broken expression of the girl with the necklace played on repeat in my mind. “It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t you. You’re part of the group that committed the act. The perfect example of guilty by association.”
“Look in the mirror, little girl. Everything you just said applies to you, too. You joined knowing full well what you were getting into.”
I huffed. There was no retort I could give her without my real reasons for joining the Red Court spilling out, too. My emotions were making me sloppy.
Get it together. Forget about the girl. Forget about Chase’s accusing eyes when he looked at the Red Court’s work.
“If you’d like to step down from your soapbox, we can get back to the plan. I think we did enough legwork that when the student council tallies the votes Thursday afternoon, we’ll be ok. The results will be delivered Friday morning to the administrative offices. All we need to do is get into the student council room and check their files. Even if we do need to change the tally, we can have Max back us up with a phony story about finding extra ballots.”
I opened my mouth to object, but she held a hand up to stop me.
“This is only a contingency. We don’t take chances, so we plan for this in case we need it. But it’s like I said, we should be fine.”
“It’s the ‘should’ that worries me.”
These Vengeful Hearts Page 9
