Vengeance Bound

by Justina Ireland

  After resting against the side of the bed for a moment, I go to the closet on legs that surprisingly support my weight, and grab the rope at the bottom. I’m not sure why I bought it. Maybe deep down I knew this day was coming. “You’ll have to tie my hands and ankles to the headboard and footboard. Make sure the knots are tight.”

  He grins, even though his eyes shine with worry. “No problem. I was a Boy Scout.”

  I laugh. “Somehow I can’t picture you wearing that little neck scarf.”

  “It was usually hanging out of my back pocket.”

  “Rebel.” I lie on my bed and close my eyes, resting them for a moment. When I open them, Niko stands by my side. There’s a blanket over me, and my arms and feet are secured to the bedposts. He looks around and sticks his hands into his pockets. I want to close my eyes and sink into unconsciousness, but from this angle I can study Niko’s jawline. It’s strong and soothing, as elegant as a Michelangelo sculpture. Beautiful in its simplicity, perfect and striking. If I am dying, I want his face to be the last thing I see.

  Niko places the back of his hand against my forehead. “You feel like you have a fever. Seriously, you’re, like, a thousand degrees. Maybe you should go to the emergency room. When does your mom get home?”

  I shake my head, but the motion just makes me want to moan. “They won’t be. I’ll be fine. Just go. You can come back and check on me in the morning, if that’s cool.”

  Niko disappears, and disappointment washes over me. I’m glad he won’t be in any danger if They take control, but a large part of me wanted him to stay by my side until I’m feeling better. My selfishness knows no bounds.

  I close my eyes, and open them when the cold plastic of a bottled water presses against my lips. Niko supports my head while I drink, and I drain the bottle in several gulps. Niko takes it away when it’s empty, a shy smile on his face.

  “I thought you should have something to drink.” He climbs in next to me in the bed, my bound hands and feet causing him to curl around me awkwardly so he doesn’t lie on my arm or leg. He pulls the blanket over both of us, and I shiver at the feel of him pressed against me.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper. It’s getting harder and harder to stay lucid.

  “It’s freezing in here, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m just trying to keep warm. You’re hotter than any furnace.” There is none of the smarminess in his voice that I would expect from a guy. It deepens my feelings for him slightly, making my chest ache.

  I shake my head, but a wave of unconsciousness pushes away rational thoughts. I doze off, and then jerk awake. “No, you can’t stay here. I don’t know what They’ll do.”

  Niko chuckles low in his chest. “What who’ll do? Your mom? Don’t worry about her. I can deal with parents.” The curve of his smile flattens into a hard line. “Although it’s pretty shitty that she left you when you were sick.”

  “It’s not her fault. She didn’t want to go . . .” I trail off, memories momentarily distracting me. My stomach roils, and I groan. The tide of darkness pulls me under, but I can’t go until I tell Niko something. . . .

  I jerk awake again, and Niko looks down at me expectantly. His eyes are the color of the sky in a Monet painting I saw once when I was younger, a gray-blue so perfect that it fills me with a longing sharp enough to cut stone. “Thank you. For staying.” He shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t ask this of him. But I’m too selfish to ask him to leave again. “If anything weird starts to happen, and you can’t get out, there’s a tranquilizer gun in the closet, okay?” Another random purchase that may come in handy.

  Niko laughs softly and lays his head next to mine on the pillow. “That’s a bit extreme. What are you, possessed?” he asks.

  “You have no idea,” I mutter, and my mind spins toward the darkness. The last thing I feel before I pass out is Niko’s cool fingers smoothing my hair back from my forehead.

  MOMENTARY TRUTH

  I open my eyes and The first thing I notice is the smell. The bedsheets I lie in are completely soaked with sweat. It smells like the stink of a thousand locker rooms. Gross.

  I move to get up, but my hands and feet are still secured to the bed. I adjust slightly, inhaling sharply as the muscles of my back and shoulders protest. In the faint light coming from the window I can see the purple of the bruises under the ropes. I register a dozen other aches and complaints as my body slowly comes back online.

  Despite the reek of the bed, it’s what I don’t smell that fills me with relief. The sickly sweet smell of burning sugar. If I’d completely lost control, the room would have been filled with the scorched smell of Their justice. They would have torn Niko to pieces just for the fun of it, and then burned away his soul to satisfy Their appetite. I’m relieved and saddened that Niko isn’t here.

  Because I am still tied to the bed.

  I look toward the window, trying to judge what time it is. A gray, watery light filters through the dirty curtain. It could be anytime between dawn and early evening. The sunlight isn’t very strong in Pennsylvania in the winter, and there is no real way to tell from which direction the light leaks in. I try to get more comfortable, but that disturbs the blanket enough so that I get a whiff of my BO. I reek.

  I am burning these sheets.

  I lift my head as much as I can to look around the room, and that’s when I spot him. He dozes in the desk chair in my closet, the one that pulls up to my laptop. I’m not worried that he’s seen anything on the laptop; that’s password protected. I’m more concerned about the drawers of the antique trunk that hang open next to him, spilling out all of my dark secrets.

  Panic rises in my throat but is almost immediately chased away by a hysterical laugh. Who am I kidding? Considering my current condition, he has probably seen enough that a drawer full of fake IDs and newspaper clippings is tame by comparison.

  My laughter startles Niko, and he bounds out of the chair. He looks around the room, eyes wide. He wields a broom handle like a sword, and despite the silliness of it, he looks amazing. His dark hair sticks up in a dozen different directions, and a couple days’ worth of beard covers his cheeks. He stripped off his sweater at some point and now stands in his thermal. The tight material traces the hills and valleys of his biceps. His jeans hang low on his hips. My mouth is dry, and I have trouble swallowing. It may be because of him, or because I’ve been unconscious for so long.

  “Can I get some water?” I croak.

  Niko points the broom handle at me. There are shadows under his eyes. He looks exhausted. His voice is so low, I almost don’t hear him. “Who are you?”

  I pretend to laugh, but I’m not sure what he means. He must have seen the fake IDs after all. “I’m Thirsty.” He just stares at me, and I laugh again, this time for real. “That’s the part where you say ‘Hi, Thirsty. I’m Friday. Let’s get together Saturday and we’ll have a sundae.’” He just stares at me, and I sigh. “Didn’t your parents ever joke around with you like that?” When he continues to stare at me, I clear my throat. “Niko, it’s me, Cory.”

  He sags in relief, and falls backward into the chair. He stiffens as something occurs to him. “What’s your name?”

  I stare at him, which is hard because of the way I have to hold my head up. I relax back into the pillow. “It’s Cory. Could we hurry this up? In case you haven’t noticed, I need a shower, bad.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again, he’s right next to the bed. His eyes are a little crazed, and they flit over my face like he’s reading words written there. I blink. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask. I know what’s wrong with him. He’s probably seen Them. But I’m hoping that Niko doesn’t understand what he saw the past couple of days.

  “What’s your name?” he asks, his face impassive.

  “It’s Cory, Niko. It’s me, Cory.”

  He leans a little closer, his eyes boring into mine. “What’s your name?”

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I’m so tired, a
nd I smell like a gym sock. All I want to do is take a shower, drink some water, and leave West County. After this I have definitely worn out my welcome. “Why are you doing this?” I wail.

  Niko doesn’t move. “It’s the rule of three,” he says. “You have to tell the truth if I ask you three times.”

  “I think that only works on fairies or something like that.”

  Niko shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, it works. She told me so while you were gone.”

  His words hit me like a bus, and I stiffen. “Who?”

  “The one that glowed. She looked like you.”

  I sigh and relax against the pillows. “Alekto.” I wonder how she was able to appear in this world. Maybe because I was unconscious? “What else did she tell you?”

  “The names of the others. Megaera and Tisiphone.” Niko rubs his face. This close I can study the new shadows around his eyes. I thought they were caused by exhaustion, but now I’m not so sure. He sighs. “While you were out, I got to talk to them more than I wanted to. At first I thought you had multiple personalities, like on TV, but then that other one appeared . . .” He trails off, as though he realizes how insane it sounds.

  I take this in, nodding slowly, the pillow matting the hair in the back of my head even further. I seriously need a shower, but I’m curious why They talked to Niko. “What did Alekto say?”

  He shrugs. “She kind of told me what was going on with you, how the other two . . . things were trying to take over your body and you were fighting Them. She told me about the rule of three so I would know who was in your body at the time. They pretended to be you, but I could tell there was something off about the way They sounded.” He pauses, thinking. “Alekto also said I had to help you, that I’m your anchor to this world.” Niko rubs his temples and closes his eye. “I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Yeah. I told you I was sick. You should see me when I have the flu. It’s way worse,” I joke. An uncomfortable silence stretches out between us, and I ask the question that we’ve both sort of been avoiding. “What did the other two say?”

  Niko glances at me with equal parts horror, disbelief, and wonder before looking away. It’s the wonder that gives me hope. “They said you were Theirs, and that I couldn’t have you.”

  I close my eyes, and tears leak out of the corners. They know. They know about Niko, that he’s the reason I’m changing. They knew it before I did. Yet, now that I think about it, I can recognize the emotion for what it is.

  I’m falling in love with Niko. Really, how could that be a surprise? Any guy who can tie a girl to a bed and then stick around when she starts to lose her mind has to be a keeper.

  I think back to the drugstore, and the way it felt to kiss him that night in the vacant lot, to feel free. I want to show him that deep down I’m a normal girl. Heaviness presses down on my chest, because that’s not my future. I gave myself to justice. They won’t let me go back.

  It’s not like he’ll have me when he knows the whole story, anyway. I’m too much like Them.

  But he said Alekto told him he was my anchor. Does that mean he has the ability to save me? Is that the big secret Alekto couldn’t tell me? I think I need that from him, because I can’t seem to save myself.

  “You never answered my question.” His eyebrows knit together as he trails a single finger along the bruise marring the skin on either side of the rope around my wrist. The touch is so tender, despite the fact that I stink, that a little tendril of hope flutters in my chest. They try to quash it, but I can sense Their weakness. They put everything They had into attempting a coup, and They failed. They’ll try again, though.

  But until then I’m going to try to be happy. And that means being with Niko. If he’ll have me.

  I take a deep breath and blow it out, making my decision. A week, two at most. Just a little happiness. Then I’ll leave. A few stolen days with Niko, assuming he doesn’t run screaming after the past couple of days, and then I’m back on the run.

  I turn my head to meet Niko’s eyes. There is only one way I can regain his trust. I have to tell him the truth. “My name is Amelie Ainsworth.”

  Niko leans back and crosses his arms. The light goes out of his eyes, and he scowls. “Where is Cory?”

  I shake my head. “Cory never existed—”

  “Where’s Cory?”

  “Niko, I’m trying to tell you—”

  “Where’s Cory?”

  My temper explodes. “Dammit, Niko. I’m trying to tell you. I was never Corinne Graff. The name was a cover so that no one would find me. My real name is Amelie. Amelie Ainsworth.”

  Niko tilts his head to the side and studies me. “You changed your name so no one would find you. Why? What do you have to hide?”

  Plenty. But that’s a conversation that needs to be eased into.

  I struggle to lift my head, to look at him as he gets up to pace. The muscles in my neck and upper back scream in protest, and I settle back with a groan. “I’ll answer all of the questions you have, I promise. I just need you to do me a couple of favors.”

  “What?” Niko doesn’t slow in his pacing, and as I stare at the ceiling, I can hear his work boots tread on the bare wood floor.

  “First, quit doing that rule-of-three shit. It’s annoying.” I lift my head to gauge his reaction. Niko stops pacing, and when he turns toward me, a slight smile curls his lips.

  “Fine. What’s the other thing?”

  I make a face and flop my head back onto the pillow. “Could you untie me and let me take a shower? In case you haven’t noticed, I smell.”

  There’s no answer, but the ropes around my ankles loosen. I sigh as I draw circles in the air with my feet, trying to get the blood flowing. Niko appears near my head, his fingers on the rope around my left wrist. He frowns. “At least tell me why you’re here in West County.”

  I want to lie, to declare my love for him and give him some sappy Hollywood-worthy story about tracking him to the ends of the earth to find him, my soul mate, my anchor. But Niko is entirely too reasonable to believe bullshit like that, so I tell him the truth.

  “I came here to hide from my past. And to kill the man who ruined my life.”

  TRIPPING DOWN MEMORY LANE

  While Niko runs to get food, I stand under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water rinse away the grime. For two days I fought Them, alternately lucid and possessed. Niko won’t tell me much more than he already has, but the way his expression shadows when he talks about it makes me think it was very, very bad.

  And yet, he’s still here. I hope what I’m about to tell him won’t be the straw on the metaphorical camel’s back.

  The water starts to turn cold, and I get out and wrap myself in a towel. I clear away the steam to get a good look at myself in the mirror, and then lose my nerve. The face looking back at me is so awful that I can’t bring myself to assess the damage. My wrists and ankles already look like I was part of some violent ritual, the bruises darkened to a horrible plum color. I hate to think of how the rest of me looks.

  I pull on some pajama pants and a camisole, covering my bare arms with a hoodie that matches the pants. My old pajamas go into a trash bag, along with the sheets and comforter from the bed. I toss the bag out the bedroom window onto the fire escape. I’ll deal with it later. For now it’s enough that it’s out of my apartment.

  I’m too tired to do my makeup or really even care, and once I finish cleaning up the biohazard, I collapse on the couch. I don’t even have the strength to turn on the TV.

  I’m still surprised that They tried to take me over. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. So why did They change the script at Halsey’s? Why strike now? Surely my weak objections weren’t enough to make Them move against me, were they?

  After so many years of being powerless, I can’t believe a single “no” could send Them into panic mode. But it’s not like it matters. I can still feel Them squatting in the back of my mind, unwelcome guests. Even after a failed att
empt to take over my body, They still haven’t left. I don’t think They can.

  Despair settles over me like a heavy blanket. I have nothing to live for. I can’t spend the rest of my life helping Them kill any man who crosses Their path, and I can’t get rid of Them. I’ve been coasting along for so long that I never thought about what I would do if something like this happened. I really thought They needed me. Knowing that They don’t makes me feel like the past five years have been a complete lie.

  So what am I going to do about it?

  Odie jumps into my lap with a plaintive yowl, startling me from my doze. The front door opens and closes, and I twist around to see Niko. A bag dangles from his hand, and his hair is wet. I sit up, and the scent of him curls around me seductively. He smells like the ocean and fried chicken, and I don’t know whether to bite him or kiss him.

  Niko sees my expression, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. I blush at being so transparent. He doesn’t seem to notice. “I got a whiff of myself on the way to get food, so I swung by my house and took a shower.”

  I can’t help but lick my lips. “I don’t know what smells better, you or the chicken.”

  He moves toward where I sit on the couch, setting the bag on the coffee table before sitting down and snuggling in close. His lips touch mine, and I forget about eating as my fingers graze the stubble left behind on his cheeks. There is something strangely addicting about Niko, a mixture of softness and roughness that blends together perfectly. I want to sink into his arms, to meld myself into him like a second skin, my body against his.

  I would, too, if my stomach weren’t growling like the engine of a sports car.

  Niko pulls away with a laugh. “Let’s eat before you waste away to nothing.”