Shattered Souls (The Toren Series, Book 1)

by Lola StVil

  “Summit?” he says.

  “Hmmm.”

  He says my name again and I force myself to look at him. I’m shocked to see the grin on his face. “I believe you,” he says as he signals for me to look up. I follow his gaze. My jaw drops as I see it. There are two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila flowing just above our heads. Milo shifts his hand slightly and they drift down, landing gently on the bar in front of us…

  CHAPTER FIVE: THE NEW GIRL

  For a moment, I’m lost for words, which is unlike me enough that it throws me. I watch, silent, as Milo reaches out and pours us both a shot. He picks one up and downs it and I follow suit.

  The heat of the liquid going down my throat and warming my stomach seems to ignite my temper. I jump up off the stool.

  “How could you?” I ask, my voice dangerously quiet.

  Milo turns to face me. He has the decency to look ashamed of himself. He knows that when I’m quiet like this, my temper is much worse than when I’m shouting and cursing.

  “Summit, calm down,” he starts.

  Did he just tell me to calm down?

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” I shout. “You want me to calm down?”

  I’m so angry I can’t express why. I can barely admit it to myself, but I have to. I have to let it out so that I can let it go.

  My best friend has been lying to me all of my life. I don’t know if I can let this one go.

  He still hasn’t responded. I begin pacing the floor in front of him, trying to walk my anger away.

  With my luck, my anger will bring my powers out and I’ll explode his head or something.

  “You’re one of them,” I snarl at him.

  Except it’s not one of them. It’s one of us. Milo and I are more alike than I ever knew. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? My best friend, my rock, isn’t really either of those things. He’s only friends with me because he’s my secret guardian or some other nonsense.

  “Actually, I’m a Quo,” Milo says.

  That wasn’t what I was expecting. I was expecting an apology; a confession. Not another word to add to the ever-growing list of things I don’t understand.

  “What the hell’s a Quo?” I snap.

  It’s the least important thing we need to discuss, but it’s the safest thing. It’s something I can say without risking losing him forever in a moment of temper.

  Milo shrugs.

  “A Quo is half angel, half human. I have powers but I’m nothing like as close as powerful as a full angel. Nothing like as powerful as you.”

  I hear the awe in his voice. I can see it on his face. I don’t want him to look at me like that. I want him to look at me like he always has. Like I’m just Summit, the girl who likes junk food and trashy movies. Not like someone who can save the world. Because I can’t save the world. I can’t even save my own world. Not now. Not when it was all lies.

  “So to be clear, earlier on today I found out I was an angel with powers. Within twelve hours of this crushing revelation I was here spilling my guts to you, afraid that you would think I was crazy. And you knew all along. You knew what you were, you knew what I was, and you knew our entire friendship was a lie.”

  I feel better now that’s out. That’s what was really hurting me. The fact that the one constant in my life, the one person I could rely on, was only there because he had some cosmic mission to watch the loose cannon.

  “It’s not like that, Summit,” Milo says, his eyes pleading with me to understand. “Please sit back down and let me explain.”

  I make no move to sit back down, but I stay. I don’t think he can say anything that will make this better, but I want him to. I really want him to. I stop pacing and turn to face him. I want to be looking him in the eyes when he tells me what has been going on.

  Milo seems to accept that I’m not going to be convinced to take a seat. He takes a moment to gather his words.

  “My family are all Quos. A long time ago, my parents were tasked with keeping an unofficial eye on you. You know, making sure that your powers didn’t break through somehow. So yes, my family sought you out because they had to. And yes, I made friends with you because I had to.”

  He pauses. I can see my own pain reflected in his eyes.

  How can he be so cruel? So casual as he breaks me?

  As if he can read my mind (maybe he can, who’s to know), he quickly goes on.

  “I’m sorry, Summit, but that’s the truth and I don’t want to lie to you anymore. That’s how it started, but once I got to know you, I saw you as more than a project. You’re warm and kind and funny, and you’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever known. And that’s the truth. Our friendship is real. You have to believe me.”

  I want to believe him. I really do. But I just can’t. How can our friendship be real when it is all based on a lie? It is all forced. Fake.

  I feel my eyes fill with tears.

  “Goodbye, Milo,” I say.

  Before he can stop me, I turn and flee. I pull open the door and run blindly away from him.

  I hear him calling my name from the shadows behind me. He’s telling me to wait. But I don’t. I keep running until I can’t hear anything except the blood pounding in my ears. I can barely see for the spots of light floating before my eyes, and my chest aches from the big gasping breaths I’m gulping down.

  When I feel like I might throw up, I stop running. I don’t have the energy to fight the tears anymore and I let them come. I stand in the middle of a tree-lined street and I cry.

  I cry for myself: for the life I should have had. I cry for the lost trust between Milo and me. And I cry for the fate of the world that lies in the hand of someone who can’t even nurture a friendship.

  When I’ve cried myself out, I look around and get my bearings. I head back in the direction of Death’s house.

  I’m done feeling sorry for myself. Self-pity isn’t a good look on anyone. In that moment, I vow to myself that I’m going to give this whole other life a try. I’m going to make it work. Because I’ve just run out of other options.

  ***

  I walk along the corridor of the Marcus Cane Academy, conscious yet again that the school is named after my grandfather and everyone knows it. Everyone knows why except me.

  My grandfather, the great and powerful Oz.

  I know that’s not fair, but hey, life isn’t fair.

  I don’t know how I let them talk me into this. Actually, I do. It seemed like a better idea to come to this school for magic or whatever the hell it is than it did to go back to my regular school and have to face the reality of what had happened to Ashton. And to have to face Milo.

  When Pryor and Silver came to Death’s house this morning and told me about this school, I told them I wanted to start today. They exchanged glances, but they agreed hesitantly. I think they knew it was their only chance of keeping me there.

  The school is nothing like I imagined. I was expecting Hogwarts: all dark and brooding with an atmosphere of friendship and classes on spell casting.

  What I got was a typical high school full of bitchy girls and douchey boys. Seriously, I don’t know if the angel world has jocks and cheerleaders, but this school sure does. And all of their attention is focused on me.

  At first, I thought it was because I was the new girl. It soon became clear that it’s because I’m kind of famous here. I guess I could have worked that angle and maybe even fit in if it wasn’t for one small inconvenience.

  The powers I should have, the ones I need to save everyone, aren’t exactly rushing in. I struggled to open the combination lock on my locker this morning, and everyone here is quick to point it out. Not to my face. No. They prefer to whisper about me as I pass by, just loud enough for me to catch snippets of what they’re saying.

  “She’s a mess.”

  “We’re doomed.”

  “Her?”

  Those were some of this morning’s classics.

  Now it’s lunchtime, and I know it isn’t going to be
fun. I have yet to see a friendly face except the brief glimpse I had of Dylann this morning. She gave me a half wave and disappeared into a large crowd of laughing students.

  The corridor is mostly deserted now as everyone is in the cafeteria. I fight with the combination lock again and eventually manage to wrestle my locker open. I run my fingers quickly through my hair and look into my own purple eyes in the mirror on the back of the door.

  At least here I’m not the only freak of nature. I’ve already seen some crazy hair colors, and no one comments on that. I guess I have to be thankful for that.

  I grab my sandwich, close my locker, and walk away, trying to work out where to go to avoid the crowds.

  “She’s the savior of the world? But she’s not even pretty.”

  The voice comes from behind me. I hear a couple of muted giggles and someone shushes the voice. I don’t turn around. I don’t want to know who they are.

  Without thinking it through, I push open the first classroom door I see and slip in. I let the door close behind me and press my back against it. I screw my eyes shut and take a minute to enjoy the coldness of the wood.

  Someone clears their throat and my eyes fly open.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage to blurt out. “I was just looking for someone.”

  It’s lame and I know it.

  “I thought maybe you needed a break from the whole ‘what are her powers going to be and when’s she going to get them’ brigade.” Mrs. Fry smiles.

  Mrs. Fry was the first teacher I met here. She taught first period, which was history. Not the glamorous history of the angel world, but just standard normal history. The school is a blend of normal high school classes and angel classes mixed together in a chaotic jumble that feels exactly like my mind.

  “That too.” I smile back.

  I can’t help it. Mrs. Fry’s smile is infectious. She nods towards the desks.

  “Why don’t you sit down and take a moment to yourself,” she suggests.

  I do as she says. I unwrap my sandwich. Eating it here seems way more hygienic than perching on the toilet in the bathroom, which is my other option. I nibble on it slowly, not really tasting it.

  I watch Mrs. Fry as she marks essays. She doesn’t look like a typical teacher. Far from it. She wears tight black leather trousers with a black vest top.

  Her jet-black hair is streaked with an intense green which matches her eyes. Dye and contacts or natural? I’m dying to ask, but I know from first-hand experience how annoying it is to get quizzed on that one.

  She has a large silver ring through her right nostril and five matching ones in each ear. She doesn’t look anywhere near old enough to be a teacher.

  I like her, I decide. She is just the right mix of sarcastic and blunt, which is rounded out by a wicked sense of humor and a loud infectious laugh.

  “So, the first day is going well then?” Mrs. Fry says, startling me.

  I pull my eyes away from her. The amused smile on her face tells me she caught me watching her.

  “Fantastic,” I agree.

  Before I knew what was happening, it all poured out of me. Having my life turned upside out. My crazy new family history. And Milo.

  “Bummer,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “I just don’t know who I am anymore.”

  “You should get a Muse,” Mrs. Fry says thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think that would help.”

  I grin. “Why? So I can write cheesy love songs and channel my rage that way?”

  Mrs. Fry throws her head back and laughs. I frown, puzzled. She gets herself under control.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I forgot you wouldn’t know what a Muse is in our world. A Muse is kind of like a history book, but it’s a personal history book. Like your own family history. I think it would help you to work out what came before you and how you fit into it all.”

  I nod, thoughtful. Maybe she’s right. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  “Thanks,” I say. I glance at my watch. I have ten minutes left before my next class. Just long enough to go to the bathroom and work out where I’m supposed to be next.

  I stand up.

  “Thanks,” I say, gesturing around me. “For letting me hide out here.”

  “Anytime,” Mrs. Fry says.

  I hope she means it because I have a feeling I’ll be back tomorrow at lunchtime.

  As I head for class, I spot Nix walking towards me. I am so happy to recognize him in the sea of unfamiliar faces. As he gets closer, I hear it. The same voice that said I wasn’t pretty.

  “I guess we’re all doomed if we’re relying on her. She’s useless.”

  I cringe. I know Nix has heard, and somehow, that makes my humiliation worse. He’s going to laugh and join in. I just know it.

  “Get lost, Cassidy,” he says, turning to the girl, who turns out to be a petite blonde who looks like my old idea of an angel. “We’d be in real trouble if it was down to you. What’s your power again? Oh, that’s right. It’s so irrelevant no one remembers.”

  Cassidy’s face falls, her nasty smile replaced with shock. She turns and hurries away followed by her gaggle of minions. I notice one of them grin ever so slightly and I figure maybe they aren’t all bad.

  “Thanks,” I say to Nix.

  He shrugs it off. I fall into step beside him, heading in what I hope is the right direction for my next class.

  “I know what it’s like to be the one they all whisper about.”

  I look at him.

  “But you fit in here,” I say. “This has always been your life.”

  “Have you heard of Malakaro Cane?”

  I think about it.

  “Vaguely,” I say. “Wasn’t he the crazy one who wanted to destroy humanity because he had daddy issues or something?”

  Nix smiles a sad smile.

  “Something like that,” he confirms. “He was my father.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry,” I say, wishing I could take the words back. The one person who’s spoken up for me today and I just threw it back in his face.

  He waves away my apology.

  “For years, everyone talked about the big showdown between him and Pryor. And for years everyone waited for me to snap and turn into him. Go out and avenge his death or something, I don’t know. So yeah, I know what it’s like to be talked about.”

  I don’t know what to say. The bell rings, saving me from saying anything.

  “Don’t take any crap,” Nix says as he walks away. He grins at me, and just like that he’s back to normal, the earlier vulnerability gone.

  ***

  Thank God that’s over, I think as I walk out of my last class of the day. I spot Lucas leaning against the lockers. I feel my stomach flip and my heart beats a little faster. It’s stupid. He made it clear he’s not into me last night, but he’s so hot I can’t help but hope.

  My hope is dashed as he bends down slightly and kisses a girl. A blonde girl. Cassidy. I feel the heat in the back of my throat as I swallow back the tears. I will not cry. Not over him and certainly not here.

  I duck down a secondary hallway. I don’t know what I would do if he caught me watching him. I reach for my cell phone. I need to talk to Milo. He’ll know the right thing to say. I smile as I imagine him roasting Cassidy. The fact he hasn’t met her won’t stop him.

  Then I remember. Milo betrayed me. I slip my phone back into my pocket. I feel empty inside and I don’t know what to do about it.

  A hand slaps down on my shoulder. I spin around, ready to release all the pent-up emotions on whoever is next to give me grief. Instead, my face breaks into a grin when I see Ryder. Just behind him is RJ.

  “Come on, new girl,” Ryder says, walking away.

  I follow him, RJ beside me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  I don’t really care. Anywhere is better than here.

  “We’re going to show you how we party, angel-style,” Ryder says.

  I glance at RJ, who rolls his eyes with a grin.
I roll my eyes back at him and we laugh.

  “Mock me all you like,” Ryder says good-naturedly, “but you’ve never been to a party like this one before.”

  ***

  Ryder was right about that. I’ve never been to a party like this one. It’s in some sort of a basement. The music is blaring and there are kegs at the back of the room. Everyone is clutching a red cup. Some people are dancing, some are hanging around the edges checking each other out and talking and laughing.

  And that’s where the similarities between this and any other high school party ends. The lights that flicker on and off aren’t like any other disco lights. They originate in thin air and strobe on and off, then fade out to be replaced by another one.

  There are strips of fog making their way through the crowd. I stumble backwards and almost fall over when R.J catches me and talks into my ear.

  “Shadow servants. They can get you pretty much anything you want.”

  The crowd of people is perhaps the strangest crowd I’ve ever been in. There’s all colors of hair and eyes and everywhere I look there are piercings and tattoos. Flickers of all colors float over the crowd as people fire their powers into the air, and the writhing mass of powers seem to dance together in the air.

  It’s breathtaking. Both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. RJ says something else to me, but I can’t hear him over the pounding bass. He mimes drinking and I nod. And just like that one of the shadow servants pops up with two drinks in hand.

  Ryder doesn’t even attempt to make himself heard. He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor before I even get my drink. I don’t even try to resist him. I follow him until he finds a tight gap between the bodies already out there. R.J. follows close behind, drinks in hand.

  He stops and I put my hands up, a whooping sound escaping my lips. I half close my eyes and start swaying to the thumping soundtrack. I let my body take over, my feet moving of their own accord, my hands thrust high. I let it all go.

  A shout breaks through my trance, and I look in the direction it came from. Two guys who look a year or two older than me are squaring up to each other. One of them has a singed patch on his white tee shirt. The music cuts out just in time for me to hear the singed one shout.