Three Kinds of Wicked

by May Dawson

  He braces his leg against the doorway, shifting my weight, to fish a key out of his pocket. He pushes open the door, then kicks it shut with his foot. His fingers twitch, and the bolt slides home.

  He sits down heavily on the bed, with me in his lap. His arm is still wrapped around my waist. The two of us stare at each other for a second, as if neither of us knows quite what to do next. If he were my boyfriend, I’d kiss him. But Mycroft is definitely not my boyfriend.

  Stelly said she doesn’t know his middle name. I don’t even know his last name.

  “You okay?” he asks gruffly.

  Reluctantly, I slide off his lap. I pat his broad shoulder with one hand as a clumsy thank-you as I sit next to him on the soft quilt.

  Most seniors seem to have singles, but his room is wide and a second full-sized bed is tucked in the corner. The walls are filled with bookshelves, especially on Mycroft’s side; the other side of the room has a stretch of exposed wall which is covered with posters of elaborate black-and-white pen sketches. The sketches are beautiful, artistically rendered, but mostly of half-naked busty women.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “It depends on if my father is alive and murdering people again, I guess. Or if it’s just a random murderer—actually, never mind, that’s not great either.”

  “He’s dead,” Mycroft tells me. “Promise.”

  “That’s a funny thing to promise a girl.” He was my father, after all. No one else in Avalon has such complicated feelings about the Dark Lord.

  The bodies haunt me, but they aren’t the worst part. He hurt me the most with the good memories. When I was little, he would swing me up to plant a kiss on my nose. He always hid candy in clever ways in his letters when I was at boarding school, where it wasn’t allowed. It’s hard to reconcile that man with the monster.

  I shake my head to clear away the memories, for now. “I walked past his body on my way out of Avalon. He sure looked dead.”

  “He is. You weren’t here for Grieving Day, but there is no way your father faked his death.”

  “Grieving day?” I ask softly.

  Mycroft hesitates. “Don’t ask me to describe it.”

  “I need answers right now,” I say. “Not about Grieving Day. Not about… I don’t want to think about him. But if you and Airren and Cax and Stelly are going to be part of my life, I need to know what’s going on. Why I’m here. Why Airren has to go back to the…”

  I started off strong, but despite my claim, the words Grieving Day are going to haunt me.

  “Airren isn’t just an RA,” Mycroft says gruffly. “He’s a Divide vet. Same as I am. We got out and came to school. We put the violence behind us.”

  He stands and walks to one of the windows. With his elbows resting on the sill, his body is silhouetted against the night; his massive warrior’s body would usually intimidate me, but tonight it makes me feel protected. “But when violence finds us, we don’t mind it too much. And we figured from the start you’d be trouble, Tera.”

  “So you anticipated—”

  He turns, his eyebrows rising. “I definitely did not anticipate murders on campus. We thought you might be in danger. Because of all your father’s enemies.”

  “Just about all of Avalon,” I say.

  He turns and perches on the edge of the window. He seems more comfortable now that we aren’t close together, even though he was the one who swept me off my feet and into his arms.

  “But not us,” he says.

  “Why’s that?”

  As soon as he starts to answer, I hold up my hand. “No, never mind. I don’t want to hear more of this bull shit about how everyone deserves a chance or whatever. I’m supposed to believe that you and Airren and Cax happen to be more enlightened than the rest of humanity? Lucky me, huh.”

  “I told you.” He shrugs. “It’s up to you if you don’t want to believe me.”

  I stare at him, my breath hitching in my chest.

  The door swings open. “You can hear your argument in the hall,” Cax says by way of hello. He drops his bag in the hall. “For someone who used to be Intel, you’re fucking loud, Croft.”

  “Some of us can’t help having deep voices,” Mycroft says. “Just like some of us can’t help having squeaky girl-voices.”

  Cax’s voice is lighter than Mycroft’s low-pitched I’d rather not even talk to you grumble, but it’s definitely not squeaky.

  “I’m going to tell her,” Cax says, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

  Mycroft shoots him a stony look.

  “Your father has loyalists,” Cax says bluntly. “We figured they’d find you. See if you want to be Donovan Junior.”

  I stare back at him.

  “Do you?” Cax asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Well, that’s pretty much what I would hope you would say,” Cax says. “Definitely makes thing easier around here, given that Donovan murdered Mycroft’s brother.”

  Mycroft straightens from the window. His big, broad-shouldered body suddenly feels dangerous when he stands, though he doesn’t take a step toward me or Cax. Calmly, he says, “No.”

  I think of how he said promise and my glib response, and my stomach tightens. Mycroft’s brother. I didn’t know about the Savage Night while it went on; our house in the country was unaffected. I read in my bedroom while Ravenger claws scraped down front doors and children screamed and my father’s men took over the Parliament building, promising that the government could end this all.

  “So that’s it,” Cax says. “We wanted to get close to you before you felt rejected by the whole world, and the baddies scraped your lonely ass off the floor to recruit you. Encourage you to choose a nice, wholesome life—”

  No matter how angry he is, Mycroft snorts.

  “—and not the life they can offer you of money and glamor and hero worship but also, you know, bleeding the bodies of the innocent.”

  “So you feel sorry for me,” I say calmly. It’s better to have it out in the open.

  “A little of that,” Cax says, “And a little bit trying to keep you from going dark-side.”

  Finally, someone tells me the truth.

  I’m a fucking project.

  “Great,” I say. “As long as you’re going to keep me alive. People are going to think I was involved in…in the garden.”

  “Lucky you have us for an alibi,” Cax says.

  “Yeah.” I cock my head at him, thinking about how he showed up in the library. “Lucky.”

  Is one of them always babysitting me? In case I choose to embrace being Donovan’s daughter?

  “I should have stayed earth-side.” I’ve longed for Avalon these last five years. More than I missed any person, I missed this place of beauty and mist and magic. But my father’s blood runs through my veins like poison. I shouldn’t have brought my cursed self back to Avalon. It was selfish.

  “It’s not your fault,” Cax says.

  He’s right, but that doesn’t change anything.

  Someone bangs the door, hard. “Police.”

  16

  “You’re not taking her without us.” Cax bars the policemen with his body.

  “It’s okay.” I shoulder him gently out of the way. My heart beats wildly in my throat. I’m terrified that they aren’t real police—although Cax certainly gave their badges a painstaking once-over. Even if they are cops, maybe they’ll take the opportunity to make sure I never do go darkside.

  But all I say is, “Don’t be dramatic, Cax. Of course I want to answer their questions. I want to help if I can.”

  Two police officers in the door and the two men who want to protect me stare skeptically.

  “Where’s Airren?” I ask.

  No one answers. One of the police officers puts a big hand on my shoulder to steer me down the hall His touch makes my skin crawl, and for the first time, I realize how strange it is that I like when certain guys around here touch me.

  This man’s touch makes me want to turn around and
grab his throat and choke him to his knees.

  That would definitely not help my case. I hold my shoulders stiffly and make my trembling legs keep moving as the police escort me out of the house. Students on the stairs step to one side, watching at us with unabashed curiosity. On the main floor, the coffee shop is busy, with a line of people who turn to watch as the baristas stare. People glance up from their studies and then keep on looking.

  I give them all a big old wave. Fuck it. Mycroft was right about not letting the bastards win. Look at me, I’m not wearing cuffs, it’s not as bad as it could be.

  That’s how great my first week of college is going: I’m happy not to be wearing handcuffs.

  As we reach the main floor, the second police officer turns to look behind me, aggravation in his posture. “You can go,” he says briskly.

  Mycroft and Cax are behind us. The tall, blocky-shouldered warrior and the handsome, lean blond share an almost-identical pose, with their arms crossed and jaws set.

  “We’ll follow you into town,” Cax says. “That way we’re ready when she’s done talking to you.”

  That officer turns away in irritation and pushes me down the side hall. The other police officer steps ahead of us, muttering a spell. He taps his wand against the side of a door into an office. When he swings the door open, in front of us is the bustle of the police precinct. Police officers work at their desks and a cop walks by with a man in handcuffs.

  I step into the bright light and noise as the policeman pushes me forward. I glance back at Mycroft and Cax, who watch with troubled eyes. The door slams shut between us.

  The police leave me alone in a cold interview room long enough for me to realize they’re playing a game.

  I have an alibi. I have to wonder if the boys will get themselves in trouble by being my alibi. Maybe it will make the cops distrust them too.

  Finally, an officer comes into the room. He’s not one of the ones who brought me in; he looks like he isn’t too much older than me. He has dark hair and dark scruff across his jaw, and I would think he was cute if it weren’t for the way he’s standing on the other side of the table from me, looking at me as if I’m most likely a murderer.

  He draws the chair from the table, takes a seat and pats his jacket pockets absent-mindedly as if he’s looking for a pen. All the while, I have the sense he’s gauging me, even though he isn’t looking directly at me. I shift in the hard wooden seat.

  “Thanks for coming in to give a statement. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He nods, flipping open his notepad. “You must be hearty. Not a lot of people would be fine after seeing that.”

  I cock my head to one side. “What’s your name?”

  “Detective Cutter.”

  “And you do know my name, right?”

  “I do. I read a true-crime book about you a few weeks ago, actually.”

  I stare back at him, not quite able to process that. A lot of people know who I am, but I never imagined there could be a book about me.

  He smiles as if to put me at ease. It’s a lie. He knows damn well what affect he’s had on me.

  “Do you want to know about my day?” I ask. “Or just the part with the corpse in it?”

  “Why don’t we start with this morning. Work up to”—he pauses—“corpses.”

  We can start with my alibi. But I’m not sure how much it matters.

  17

  Airren

  “You’ve had her for three hours, you’re fucking done,” I tell the police chief.

  The chief leans back in his chair and glares at me without speaking. I stare back at him.

  “I’m oddly aroused right now,” Cax says softly behind me.

  “Not helpful,” Mycroft mutters, which is what I would have told Cax.

  When I left the interview room and found Cax and Mycroft in the waiting room, I knew they had Tera here. I’d known that I wouldn’t be able to protect her. Of course, they’d want to see her.

  There’s no way in hell that corpse isn’t connected to her, one way or another.

  Mycroft says impatiently, “This is a Divide issue. Give us the girl.”

  “It’s my murder investigation,” the chief says.

  Mycroft’s face is expressionless. “We can fix that.”

  The Chief stares at us flintily. “We’re done with her anyway. But we’ll call her back in if we have more questions.”

  He says if like he thinks it’s a when.

  We’ll see about that. “Great.”

  We follow a patrolman down the hall. He tells us to wait while he processes Tera’s testimony and signs her out. I don’t much care for his tone—we could pull rank here—but it’s easier to keep the local cops on our side, so I nod. We step into the viewing room next to the interview room for privacy while we wait.

  The patrol cop reads her statement back to her. She looks exhausted. Even with her eyes dark-smudged, she’s beautiful anyway: high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, an expressive, wide-lipped mouth. Since her hair shifts between golden blond and light brown depending on the light, the color seems as hard to pin down as she is. She seems so impulsive—confident—at times and as anxious as a doe at others.

  “We need to debrief when we get back,” I tell Cax and Mycroft. “I’ve been thinking about the marks I saw. About what they mean.”

  I better remember right. I let myself be distracted when I should have been noting every detail. When Tera turned those wide, blank eyes to me, as if she was disassociating from the scene, protectiveness surged through my body. My first mission is to protect her, but I want to do more than protect her from a possible attempt on her life.

  I want to take care of her.

  But I can’t be stupid for her. It calls to mind Mycroft and Cax’s recent bone-headed moves. “I still don’t understand why you made that scene in Radner’s class. It might play well with the True, but it is sure makes her look dangerous in the eyes of the police.”

  Mycroft’s lips tighten. “I was thinking I would win her trust.”

  But that look on his face tells me that he knows now he made a mistake. One that could cost Tera.

  “Oh? Was that it?”

  “Yeah, it was.” Mycroft claps a big hand on Cax’s shoulder, speaking to him. “And while we’re discussing recent missteps, you’ve had a lot to tell Tera lately.”

  Mycroft’s deep, resonant voice is as emotionless as usual, but his jaw flexes slightly, the faint give-away about how angry he really is.

  Cax shakes his head. “You guys are scaring her. She’s smart enough not to trust you. To think this is too easy.”

  “What did you do?” I demand.

  “I told her Mycroft’s secret, not ours. Don’t worry.”

  “It’s not a secret.” Mycroft rumbles.

  “It’s not a secret. You just never talk about it.” Cax’s voice is matter-of-fact, as if he doesn’t realize he’s sailing into deadly waters.

  I was there the night Mycroft’s brother died. Mycroft shut down after; he didn’t cry or rage. He looked through us like we weren’t even there, and it was terrifying. I still see some of that in his eyes whenever his brother comes up.

  “What Cax told her,” Mycroft says doggedly, “Was too damn close to the truth.”

  “That’s what makes it a smart lie.” Cax watches Tera through the window; she’s leaning forward on her elbow, her high cheekbone propped on one hand, her eyes heavy-lidded. “I told her we want to make sure she doesn’t follow in Daddy’s footsteps.”

  He’s come dangerously close to the truth. I don’t know if I can protect Tera if she understands why she’s here, if she won’t play along. Anger rushes through my body.

  “What is it?” Cax asks.

  I hate her cynicism, the fact that she thinks she can’t trust anyone.

  And I hate that she’s right to be so cynical, even now that she’s home in Avalon.

  On the other side of the window, she finally pushes back from the
scarred wooden table in the interview room. I brush past Cax, relieved to have an excuse to leave his question unanswered.

  When she steps out of the interview room into the hallway and sees me, her face brightens. The lines of tension around her eyes ease, like seeing me is a comfort, and the faintest smile touches the corners of her lips. The expression is there then gone; she’s back to neutral.

  I’ve spent a lot of time reading people, though, and I know what I saw.

  Tera Donovan is falling for me.

  From a mission standpoint, this is a great thing.

  Hell, I genuinely think she’s cute. The line about the sweetness behind her cold eyes is a bullshit throw-away line from a play I went to once with another girl. I knew she’d hear how fake and saccharine it was and pay it no regard.

  I meant it, though.

  That brightness in her face makes me feel sorry for who we are and how we met.

  I step forward, touching her shoulder gently. “Let’s get you home, Tera.”

  18

  Tera

  When we arrived back at the dorm, Mycroft and Cax peel off in tandem before we make it through the front door.

  I realize they’re gone and turn in time to watch their backs head down the stairs, now that they’ve seen us safely here. I frown after them. “Where are they going?”

  “Making themselves useful.” Airren heads up the stairs ahead of me, bounding with his usual endless, boyish energy. I wish I had that kind of energy; exhaustion is heavy in my bones, curdled soul-deep.

  When I reach the fifth floor, there’s a knot of students in the alcove. They all look up at me. I can’t read their faces—curious? Distrusting? My heart is pounding suddenly, and they’re too much of a blur for me to read.

  Airren touches the small of my back, steering me to the left, toward his room. Once I’m in his neat, spartan room, with Airren closing the door firmly behind us, I finally draw a full breath.

  I should have gone to my own room—I don’t know why I’m even in here—but I sit heavily on the edge of his bed. “Picking up freshman from the police station seems to be above-and-beyond the call of RA duty.”