Vengeance Bound

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Vengeance Bound Page 8

by Justina Ireland


  “So, what do you think?”

  I turn around. Dylan is even closer than before. I blink and try to put his question into some sort of context. “Think?”

  Dylan smiles slowly and looks at me through lowered lashes. He has me trapped, back against the vending machine. Only a few scant inches separate us, and cold dread uncoils in my belly.

  “Yes, think. What do you think about letting me take you out sometime? Like, say, tonight.”

  I put my shaking hands to my heated face, and blink rapidly. “I don’t think that’s such a hot idea.”

  “I think you’re just not understanding your options.” Dylan’s cologne wraps around me like a winter scarf too tightly wound, heavy and suffocating. The way he stares at me turns my stomach. The Furies helpfully supply a mental image of the way he hopes this will play out, a scenario so far-fetched, it belongs in a porno. I’m nauseous, and my back presses up against the glass of the candy machine. No escape.

  He moves in for a kiss. I stiffen and turn away at the last second, so that his lips land awkwardly on the side of my mouth. Panic swells in my chest, and I swallow it down. “Stop it.” It comes out as something closer to a plea than a real threat.

  “Don’t worry. No one ever comes down here,” he murmurs. Dylan has no idea of the danger he’s in. He doesn’t take the hint and instead leaves a trail of kisses across my cheek, moving toward my mouth. Inside I’m screaming in fear and disgust. I’m sure it’s supposed to be sexy, but all it does is fill me with dark emotions. I don’t like being touched, and right now all sorts of alarms are going off in my head.

  It looks like Dylan is about to be a victim of his own overconfidence.

  My fingers curl into fists, and I’m about to pummel him into hamburger, when someone clears their throat loudly from across the room. Dylan slowly steps back. Niko stands in the doorway. I can’t believe my luck. Does everyone in this town hang out at the library?

  As he takes in the scene before him, Niko’s expression changes from surprise to distaste. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  I take a deep, shuddering breath and release it. My relief is so strong that I’m light-headed.

  “You aren’t interrupting anything.” I duck under Dylan’s arm and move toward Niko, my legs weak from the rush of adrenaline. The Furies beat at the barrier in my brain, sensing that They just lost out on some fun. I close my eyes and take a moment to steady myself before continuing. “Dylan doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’” I mutter.

  Niko stares at Dylan, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “So I’ve heard,” he murmurs.

  Dylan, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, raises his hands in surrender and backs past us toward the door. “Hey, I just came down here for a soda. Calculus makes me thirsty.” We step out of the way so he can leave, and before he goes through the door, he gives me a wink.

  “I can’t believe that guy,” I whisper when Dylan’s gone. I can’t believe I fell for his nice-guy act, especially since I know what kind of jerk he is. I should’ve let him have it as soon as I realized he’d followed me down here. Why did I even bother giving him the benefit of the doubt?

  Niko pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, be careful. Especially where he’s concerned.” Niko goes to the soda machine, puts in a few coins, and pulls out a can. He pops it open and looks at me over the rim of the can. “Did you need something?”

  I’m staring. I flush in embarrassment and shake my head. “Uh, no, just . . . thanks. You saved me from a really bad situation there.”

  Niko leans against the machine and drinks his soda. “You really should watch yourself around him. He has a reputation. And it’s not one a girl like you would like to experience firsthand.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I tilt my head to the side and study him. Now that he knows I’m watching him, I might as well enjoy the view. He wears a sweater and jeans with a pair of scuffed work boots, and looks good enough to eat. The knit material clings to his chest and arms, revealing that he makes his share of visits to the school gym. For a desperate moment I wish it had been him who’d followed me down here, and not Dylan. I don’t think I would push him away if he tried to kiss me with those perfect lips.

  Niko grins at me, and my heart does a little kick drumbeat. In the back of my mind They are curiously silent. “You think I don’t know your type? You’re a good girl. You study on a Saturday afternoon, you say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘pardon me,’ and you have no idea what to do when a guy like Dylan doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  I laugh out loud. The statement is so ridiculous that I don’t even know what to say. I walk toward him, each footstep slow and deliberate. He pauses with his soda halfway to his mouth when I stop, mere inches away. “Is that actually how you see me?” I say, my voice low.

  “Yes. Isn’t that what you want people to see?”

  His statement cuts me to the quick, because he’s right. That is the image I’m trying to project. But it hurts, because I thought Niko was different. For some reason I thought he knew the real me, not the show I put on for everyone.

  But now that I think about it, why would he be any different from everybody else? There’s nothing all that special about him, no matter how much I may be obsessing over those gray-blue eyes.

  Still, I want him to know me. The real me. I think I could drop the charade for him.

  I take a step back, shaking my head to clear away the silly thoughts. Nothing will ever happen between me and Niko. Nothing can happen. It’s too dangerous.

  Still, I can’t help but tempt fate a little. “Miss Perfect, huh? If that’s how you see me, then you don’t really see me at all,” I say. My voice is heavy with regret. He’ll never know the real me.

  A flash of something flickers across his expression, and I freeze. It’s too much. I’ve revealed more of myself than I should.

  Before he can respond, I flee.

  I’m out the door and up the stairs before I make a bigger fool of myself. Maybe it’s because I’m feeling grateful for his timely intervention, or maybe it’s the way he makes me feel more alive, but I want to tell him my deepest, darkest secrets. And that can’t be a good thing.

  I find my way out of the library and to my car, and drive home in a daze. There’s too much on my mind. First there’s my fascination with Niko, which is starting to feel like something a little more. He’s no better-looking than boys I’ve met at other schools. So why do I feel like there’s something between us, some connection that I have to explore?

  But my reaction to Niko isn’t half as worrisome as Their increasingly violent behavior. There’s no way I should’ve been so close to losing control in the library, and that potential lapse frightens me more than Dylan’s unwanted kisses and my response to Niko. My control is so thin these days that I have no idea what’ll happen if I lose it on an innocent.

  Today’s lapse makes me wonder if one day They’ll have full control of me, and not just the little bit I allow Them now and then. They need me to exist in the mortal world. That’s what They get out of the possession. I’m Their tie to the guilty They crave. Without me They would be trapped in the other realm like Alekto, in the land that’s the final resting place of the long-dead god who created Them.

  But now I wonder if They’ll somehow take me over completely, instead of just killing me by inches. I push the thought away. Now is not the time to worry about it. I have to believe that as long as I let Them have what They want every now and then, I can still have a life, or at least some semblance of one.

  But I still can’t help but worry that something of Their personalities is seeping into mine, like french fry grease leaking through a fast-food bag. Are They slowly remaking me into Their image, the way They changed my hair and eyes to be more like Alekto’s? And if so, what happens when They decide They’re finished?

  I don’t want to think about becoming any more like Them than I already am. So I don’t. I shove the thought aside more eas
ily than I pushed Them back into the dark reaches of my brain. Instead of dwelling on my fears, I think about what I’m going to wear to the party tonight.

  PARTY MONSTER

  I am more popular than I ever could have hoped.

  From the minute Mindi and I set foot in Tina Faber’s house, we are bombarded with people coming over to say hi. Part of my popularity is because of the four bottles of liquor I bring. Mindi called me in a panic right as I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup, saying she needed liquor and a ride. I happily provided both. I went into the state-run liquor store, flashed my fake ID, and grabbed a few of the biggest, most expensive bottles, none of which meant anything to me but just looked cool. Thanks to Hank Meacham, a good portion of West County High will be drunk tonight.

  When we walk in, the sight of the booze elicits a kind of awed hush.

  One pimply-faced guy wearing a creative interpretation of a beard rushes over. The facial hair barely covers his chin, it’s so sparse. “Holy shit. Is that a bottle of Grey Goose? And Patrón? You brought Patrón?”

  “Here,” I say, thrusting the bottles at him. “They’re yours.”

  “Not so fast,” Adam interrupts. He appears from the crowd and gives me a smile before he takes the bottle of tequila from me and hands the enormous bottle of vodka to the guy. “Now get lost, Werner.”

  The guy gives Adam a dirty look before grinning at me. “Thanks, Dixie.” He disappears into the crowd before I have a chance to correct the nickname.

  A girl with short dark hair and wide eyes appears. “Mindi, you made it.”

  Mindi smiles shyly and hugs the girl. “Do you know Cory?”

  The girl nods at me without smiling. “Yeah. We have English together, and I heard Amber talking shit about you during Life Skills. Welcome to the club.”

  I smile. This must be Tina, the hostess. “Thanks. Here, I brought these.” I take the two remaining bottles from Mindi and hand them to Tina.

  She smiles at me for the first time. “Whoa, you brought Jäger. Nice. I’ll take these and put them in the kitchen. Dylan should be here shortly. His brother is supposed to buy me a keg. But there’s other stuff to drink until it gets here.”

  “Dylan?” I have a flash of anger at the mention of Dylan. I’m still pissed at myself for letting him get away with touching me earlier. After I got home, I started to wish I’d let him have it, even if retreat was the best course of action at the time. Guys like Dylan need to be taught a lesson.

  Tina tilts her head slightly and studies me. “Yeah. Funny, he doesn’t seem like your type.”

  “He’s not. I’m just surprised. From the way he talks, this doesn’t seem like his scene.”

  Tina rolls her eyes. “He’s a douche. But West County is so small that we all end up at the same parties. Hell, half of the people here graduated last year. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not much to do around here.”

  Mindi cranes her neck and searches the room, an odd little half smile on her face. “Where’s Niko?”

  Good question.

  Tina gives Mindi a look before shrugging. “He said he might be by later. You know how he likes to hang around outside, anyway. He’s not real big on parties. Unless you like freezing your ass off, you probably won’t even see him.” Tina looks long and hard at Mindi. An unspoken dialogue passes between them. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Mindi beams and nods. “Of course. We’re just going to hang out for a while.”

  Tina gives Mindi one more inscrutable look before moving away to talk to someone else in the crowd. I glance at Mindi. She looks anxious, her eyes darting around the crowd as though she doesn’t believe Tina. I turn a questioning look toward Adam, but he is very deliberately not making eye contact. He grabs my hand and pulls me along, and I give up trying to read the subtext of what just happened.

  It’s pretty obvious that Dylan was talking about Mindi earlier today with his “mental patient” comment. Did her problems stem from Niko? I’m suddenly imagining a total stalker situation, with Mindi hiding in the bushes of Niko’s house as she draws hearts around his name in a journal.

  I push the image away. Mindi might be delicate, but she’s not crazy. She’s just a normal girl.

  Mindi, Adam, and I move deeper into the house. Most of the people at the party are girls. They eye me with a kind of predatory curiosity, like they’re wondering which of the few guys present I’m going to try to take. I don’t want any of them. What I want is to lose the guy with a death grip on my hand.

  My luck with guys today is nonexistent.

  Mindi takes me on a tour of Tina’s house. As she’s pointing out the bathroom, I smile and tilt my head to the side. “You really know your way around here.” Evidently she’s been here before, but I want to know in what context and how it may or may not connect to her stint in a mental facility. It bugs me that there’s apparently some secret everyone knows but me. It makes me feel like a kid again, but not in a good way.

  Mindi flushes a little and nods. “Tina is Niko’s cousin.” At my blank expression she elaborates. “Niko and I have been best friends since we were little. Our parents were always really close.” Her tone clearly states that she would like more, but she doesn’t elaborate.

  I want her to keep talking, and the silence hangs, heavy and awkward, until I clear my throat. “Wow, so you’re almost like family.”

  Mindi’s hands flutter around her head, and she nervously adjusts her ponytail. “Oh, no, um, not exactly.” Brotherly love is not what she’s looking for. “But Niko’s really been there for me through some tough times, you know?” There’s something she’s leaving out, and I want to pry.

  Unfortunately, I’m too polite to ask the questions on the tip of my tongue.

  I nod. “It’s important to have friends by your side.” I drop the subject, and follow Mindi down the hall.

  She leads us into the basement, where a bunch of people are playing a video game. As she greets a group of guys, Adam squeezes my hand and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Uh, thanks?” I’m not sure what he means by that, but he seems disappointed by my answer. He lets go of my hand, and I sigh in relief, wiping the sweat off on my jeans. Adam takes the place of a guy playing fake drums. I watch him play for a few minutes before I decide that I’m bored.

  Mindi tugs on my sleeve. “Let’s go get a drink.” I follow her back up the stairs and into the kitchen. Everyone in the house seems to be there, since a keg now sits in a giant red plastic bucket of ice between the stove and the fridge. People are attacking the thing like a pride of lions who’ve just taken down a wildebeest. I stand slightly outside the doorway while Mindi pushes her way in. People ignore her as she wedges through, pushing a couple of girls to the side. She is determined to get us beer. I couldn’t care less.

  The only thing I want to know is where I can find Niko. After the scene at the library, I have to see him. It’s like itching a bug bite. The more you know you should ignore it, the harder it is to think about anything else.

  “Do you think she’ll make a scene like last time?” a horse-faced girl next to me whispers to an equally unfortunate girl whose hair looks like it lost a fight with a weed whacker. Ugly Hair Girl shrugs, and leans down to stage-whisper back to her friend.

  “I heard she tried to commit suicide last time, you know, because her mom was killed and all.”

  Horse Face scrunches up her nose. “Really? I thought it was because she saw Niko kissing that Kristen girl. Either way, I kind of hope she loses it. This party is pretty lame so far.”

  I give the two girls a bitchy look, and they wisely decide to disappear into the crowd. I gnaw on my bottom lip and watch Mindi make her way toward the keg. People give her dirty looks as she pushes through, but no one stops her progress. She ignores them all. She’s tougher than she seems.

  I think about the conversation I just overheard. I hate that the answers I was looking for came from a couple of gossiping girls. If Mindi’s th
e mental patient Dylan was talking about, then those two girls were telling the truth. At some point Mindi tried to take her own life.

  For some reason that I don’t understand, sadness weighs me down at the realization. Mindi is such a sweet person, it doesn’t seem fair that she would endure something terrible enough to drive her to such a desperate decision.

  Mindi fills two red plastic cups with beer and makes her way back. She hands one to me with a wan smile. “People here are complete asshats.”

  I shrug. “People are asshats everywhere.” Mindi drains her cup and goes back for more. I pour most of mine into a potted palm when I’m sure no one is looking. She returns with a full cup, and we walk into the living room. Jocelyn and Tom sit on the couch, and Jocelyn jumps up with a shriek when she sees us. “It’s so great to see you guys!” She hugs us like she hasn’t seen us in years, even though we saw her at school yesterday.

  Mindi and Jocelyn and a few other girls in the room start talking about people I don’t know. “Hey, I’m going to go pee,” I tell Mindi, who is entranced by the gossip Jocelyn shares. I wonder how she would feel if she knew a few minutes ago she had been the topic of discussion. Either way, Mindi’s occupied, so I wander off.

  My instinct is to escape the crush of bodies that seem to press in on me from every direction. I just need some air. Okay, so I don’t like crowds. It bothers me that Dr. Goodhart was right about that.

  I squeeze past a couple making out in the doorway between the living room and the hall, and I frown, thinking of the doctor. As much as I don’t want it to, it bothers me that I haven’t been able to find a single mention of him. He’s not the kind of guy to fall off the map. Dr. Goodhart likes the spotlight too much.

  The worst thing is that we almost had him a second time in Charlotte, but They got sloppy. This was about eight months ago. A wife killer named Delbert Fitzhugh was Their target. I was so anxious to satisfy Their cries for blood that I gave him his judgment as soon as I found him, right in the gated community where he lived. When I was done, a security guard was waiting for me in Fitzhugh’s driveway, sporting a smug grin and a gun pointed at my chest. I’d tripped a silent alarm in Fitzhugh’s house, and there was no way to get away without severely injuring the security guard. I didn’t kill the guard, but my description ended up on the evening news, along with a really bad sketch that made my nose look huge.

 

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