Alpha Goddess

by Amalie Howard

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Or you’re gonna do what?” The whites of Damien’s eyes burned red and Kyle could feel the rage radiating off his body. He swallowed thickly but stood his ground. Jude laughed, putting a hand against Damien’s chest. At Jude’s touch, the waves of venomous energy receded immediately as if by silent command.

  “Ignore Damien,” Jude said. “He’s the youngest of us and has the least control, don’t you, Damien?” At the reprimand, Damien scowled, but Jude ignored him and turned to face the others. “Let’s not forget—we need Kyle, and he has Lord Azrath’s favor, so unless that changes, he’s off limits. Got it?” Jude put his arm across Kyle’s shoulder and squeezed. “Feeling safe now, half-breed?”

  His laugh was spiteful, and Kyle belatedly realized that Jude’s performance had all been a twisted display of power. Damien smirked as Jude pushed out of the booth.

  “So, Saturday, OK?” Jude said. “Tell Carla you have a school trip or something. See you later. Give Sera a big wet one for me, will you?” He tossed the last remark over his shoulder as he exited the diner. The rest of the boys obediently followed him, laughing like a pack of wild hyenas following the call of their leader.

  Kyle slouched against the cool Formica of the diner table and drew in a shuddering breath. What Jude had said about him having Azrath’s favor was true. He knew that Jude only tolerated him because of that, and if he ever wore out his usefulness to Azrath, talent or not, he was as good as dead. But Azrath needed him, more now than ever.

  Gifted with an unusual birthright, Kyle could read the auras of all manner of beings—mortal, immortal, celestial, bestial. Even if the beings were shaded or hidden, he knew what they were. He could see right through them. As a kid, the innate ability to sense hundreds of energies had been overwhelming, like too many screaming voices in his head at once. After his parents died, Kyle suppressed his gift and kept mostly to himself, falling in and out of the New York Foster Care system.

  But Kyle’s whole life changed once he was placed with Carla in Silver Lake when he first saw Sera, stuck in a tree near her bedroom window, one evening. She had obviously been trying to sneak out, but her skirt was tangled on a branch, rendering her unable to move up or down.

  “What are you doing?” he’d asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m having a tea party,” she’d hissed back. “Are you going to stand there staring or help me down?”

  They’d been friends ever since.

  Sera had been the only person who’d ever made him feel anything. She made him want to be … better. It didn’t take long for Kyle to develop feelings for Sera, which he hid fiercely. He knew she didn’t feel the same way about him, and he didn’t want to lose her friendship. Worse, if she knew the truth about what he was, she’d think he was insane. So Kyle had convinced himself that she knew the little that was good about him, and that was all that mattered.

  He glanced at his watch. He didn’t have any other place to be, and cutting class without Sera wasn’t as fun. Breathing a long sigh, he turned his car toward Silver Lake High. At least she’d be there, if she ever decided to forgive him.

  Sera sat in last period study hall chewing on the end of her pencil, still stewing. She knew Kyle wasn’t telling her everything. After four years, she could tell when he was lying, and he’d never seemed to be able to keep anything important from her.

  A scraping noise interrupted her thoughts, and she jumped as the object of her thoughts slid into the seat beside her.

  “What are you doing here, Kyle?” she snapped. “You don’t have study hall.”

  “I know, but I need to talk to you.” Sera could feel him staring at her, fidgeting. “Look, are we cool?”

  “No, we’re not,” she whispered through clenched teeth with a glance in the teacher’s direction. “You’re going to get me in trouble. Go away.”

  “Well, can we talk after school?”

  “We have play practice after school,” she said. “Unless your warden, Jude, commanded you to be somewhere else.”

  Sera turned to stare at him pointedly, half joking, and then froze at the uncomfortable expression on his face. It would be the last straw if he bailed on the play. They’d both been roped into it as part of their school’s diversity program, and despite Kyle’s antipathy for any Silver Lake extracurricular activities, he’d agreed to help out as a stagehand.

  Sera’s brows snapped together at the guilty look on Kyle’s face. “Seriously?”

  “Ser, I’m sorry, but I won’t be here for rehearsal,” he began. “Jude—”

  “Seriously?” Sera repeated, the flat of her palm slamming on the desk far louder than she’d intended. “I was just kidding about him deciding what you do or don’t do. What’s so important that you have to miss rehearsal?”

  They both jumped at the voice of the teacher. “Mr. Knox, you are not in this class. Kindly leave or report to the principal’s office. Miss Caelum, obviously I don’t need to remind you that this is study hall not chatting hall.”

  “Sorry,” they both muttered.

  “Ser, I’ll see you after class.” Kyle stood and leaned forward on the table, his head looming inches from hers. She wouldn’t look at him. “OK?”

  “Whatever.”

  Sera didn’t watch him leave, and only let out the breath she’d been holding after she heard the soft click of the door. If she’d looked at him, she would have exploded right on the spot. Sera sighed, focusing her gaze on her textbook. She had to admit, she felt really hurt that Kyle wasn’t going to finish the play with her. She’d enjoyed working on the set with him and was actually looking forward to the play.

  This year’s play for International Diversity Day was being put on in honor of Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. It was a reenactment of the Ramayana, the story of Rama and Sita—a beautiful story about the power of love and forgiveness. Sera’s mother had first told her the story of Rama and Sita when she was little. When her class was brainstorming ideas for this year’s IB Diwali event, Sera had been the one to shyly suggest the story. The idea caught fire, and soon she found herself trying to find a way out of playing Sita; she certainly wasn’t an actress. Her skill was in art, so she was happy to work on the set and costume design instead.

  The last bell rang, jerking Sera out of her thoughts, and she headed to the auditorium for the final dress rehearsals. On the way there, she spotted Kyle lounging near the doors to the auditorium obviously waiting for her, and she ducked into a nearby classroom, fuming. She didn’t want to talk to him or hear any more of his tired excuses, so she took the long route to the auditorium instead. She’d finish the set work on her own. She didn’t need him.

  Inside, the auditorium was abuzz with activity as final touches were made to the set, and actors milled around rehearsing lines and joking about breaking legs for good luck. Sera made her way to the crowd on the far side.

  “Nice work, Sera,” someone called out. Her heart pounded with pride as she glanced at the set she’d helped construct—the king’s palace, the forest of exile, the tower where Sita was imprisoned, all of it. She’d even designed the costume for the fearsome demon king who kidnapped Sita. Another boy echoed the sentiment, and Sera flushed, mumbling her thanks. She wasn’t used to so much attention.

  “Hey, Mia,” she said to the sophomore who was playing the role of Sita. “You need help with makeup?”

  “Sure,” Mia said, smiling as she tugged on the top half of the vibrant red and green sari. After deftly finishing Mia’s makeup, complete with the red bindi in the middle of her forehead, Sera had an idea.

  “Give me your hands,” she told Mia, pulling out a jar from her bag. Her mother wouldn’t even notice that she’d borrowed some of her henna powder. “I want to try something.” She glanced at Mia. “It’s like a temporary tattoo, an old tradition. I’m pretty sure Sita in the stories had it on her hands. It can last a couple weeks I think,” Sera warned. “You cool?”

  “Yeah,
sounds awesome. Go for it.” Mia’s eyes were wide with excitement as Sera dipped a thin paintbrush into a greenish paste and started drawing intricate swirls on the backs of Mia’s hands. Sera’s fingers moved fluidly and she didn’t stop, giving into the bizarre feeling that she’d done this before. Ever since seeing the girl’s hands in the mirror, she’d felt compelled to reconstruct the design, and Mia was a willing guinea pig.

  Vines curled in and out with a life of their own as her vision blurred, and Sera paused for a moment, wiping sweat from her eyes. She felt lightheaded and squeezed her eyes shut, white spots dancing behind her eyelids. When she looked back at her handiwork, to her horror the vines were still moving and now coiling toward her own fingers. They slid up, winding their way across her knuckles, up her wrists, and into her palms in a complex pattern.

  For a second, Sera thought she was dreaming, but she could clearly hear the conversation around her like she was in some kind of waking dream. And still the vines moved, concentric circles forming in her palm and extending to the tip of each finger, though painted by an invisible brush.

  “Ouch, you’re hurting me!” Mia cried.

  Mia’s voice was faint as tiny thorns flowered around each of Sera's scars and flowed to the middle of her wrists, creating a bow of sharp points bending outward like teeth. Sera could feel the piercing tips of them digging into her skin. She held Mia’s fingers in a white-knuckled death grip. They were her lifeline … her only tether to the real world. If she let go, she would be lost.

  Sera felt as if she were flowing out of her body, called away by some unseen presence. The boy in the Ravana costume that she’d designed rushed toward her, grinning and leering, his ten-headed mouths full of red pointy fangs. She’d never felt such eviscerating fear in her life—the fear of some long-forgotten memory now awakened. The demon’s arms reached out.

  Sera tumbled backward into the abyss of her vision.

  Ravana had stolen her away, imprisoning her in a castle that no one but he could reach. His demon breath was foul, the stench of him decaying everything around them. Her prison was in a desolate wasteland. “Come for me, Rama,” she cried, but her cries went unheard. No one could hear her where she’d been hidden. Still, she cried, pleading for her love to rescue her. But then, Ravana appeared in front of her, his ferocious heads snarling, his terrible teeth gnashing. “Forget Rama, you are mine now. For all eternity.”

  Sera couldn’t stop screaming.

  DECEIVER

  Someone was shaking Sera so hard that her teeth rattled. Kyle’s face swam into focus. The boy in the Ravana costume backed away, shaking his head and mouthing the word, freak. Sera closed her eyes, her breathing shallow.

  “What happened?” she heard Kyle ask in a harsh tone.

  “I don’t know,” Mia said. “One minute she was drawing and then she completely spaced. She wouldn’t let go,” she said, nursing red-bruised fingers. “And then Mark came over to say thanks for the costume, and she lost it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sera gasped weakly, glancing down at her bare pale hands. There were no vines, no tattooed teeth biting into her skin, and the vision of Ravana was gone. “I …” She trailed off with no idea of what she could say that wouldn’t make her sound crazy. “I’m sorry, Mia.”

  Sera’s pulse was still racing as Mia excused herself to finish dressing, darting another anxious look in Sera’s direction. Sera looked away. It’d all seemed so real. She shook her head to clear away the fuzziness and heaved a deep breath into her lungs to dissipate the terror that still lay on the edge of her subconscious. The fear she felt had been hers—no one could imagine that kind of suffocating horror.

  “Are you OK? You look like you saw a ghost,” Kyle said.

  Sera’s heart lurched. She wasn’t sure what she’d actually seen, but it hadn’t been a ghost or any kind of hallucination. It’d been some kind of memory. Her memory. But how was that even possible? She shook her head again. She’d been spending far too much time focusing on the play. That had to be the answer … it was the only logical explanation.

  But why had it felt so real?

  She wet her dry lips, attacking her residual anxiety with false bravado. “I’m fine.”

  “You want me to take you home?” Kyle asked. Sera nodded but then shook her head, remembering their earlier exchange.

  “I’m fine,” she repeated. “I’m just tired. Not that I need to explain anything to you.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Kyle, I said I’m fine. And why are you here anyway? You’re done with the play, right? Don’t you have to go attend to Jude and his minions?” Sera knew her tone was scathing but she didn’t care. “No one else matters to you.”

  Hurt flashed across Kyle’s face. “Sera, you know that’s not true. You do.”

  “So stop hanging out with him.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Kyle said. “I can’t.”

  Sera shook her head. “I just don’t get it. What’s so important that you’d risk everything that matters to you—Carla, our friendship, your future?”

  “I told you. Jude—”

  “I know what you said. You owe him. But he can’t be trusted.” She stared at him in silence. It seemed so obvious that Jude was simply using Kyle. Why couldn’t Kyle see that?

  “I need him, Sera,” he said finally.

  Suddenly the lights flickered in the auditorium, interrupting their heated exchange. Dress rehearsal was about to begin. Sera stared blankly at the people on stage as everyone got into position. The lights dimmed and the first act opened, with Rama and Sita, newly married, at the palace, in edenesque bliss. But the story was soon to take a dark turn, as the king’s second wife conspired to send Rama into exile so her own son could be named heir to the throne. Sera sighed. Even in the play, the characters had secrets and hidden agendas.

  She jumped at the thump of Ravana’s entrance on stage, and an immediate dread curdled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t understand why the story was affecting her so viscerally, but for some reason, despite her fear, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. With each stomp of the demon king’s foot, her body jerked, and just as the demon snatched Sita away from Rama, Sera stood, hands shaking uncontrollably. It was far too close to what she’d imagined earlier.

  “I need to get out of here,” she mumbled to Kyle, suddenly dizzy. “I’m going to be sick.”

  It didn’t take Kyle long to drive them to Sera’s place, most of the ride spent in silence. She didn’t even speak when he followed her up to her room. She hadn’t actually invited him up, but she felt that she didn’t want to be alone. And she wanted to finish their conversation.

  “So, what happened back there?” Kyle ventured once they had reached her room. “Another hallucination?”

  “No,” she said with another deep breath. “Tell me the truth, Kyle, about what’s going on. It’s time for you to choose: me or Jude.”

  Kyle’s face drew tight, but Sera didn’t care. He’d told her that he owed Jude, but he hadn’t told her everything. She stared at him expectantly.

  He sighed. “Jude’s mixed up with some … people called Daeva. He took something very valuable from them, a rare substance called Fyre. It can cure any sickness, even fatal ones.”

  “A drug?” Sera asked, frowning.

  “Some people use it as a drug, yes, but Jude needs it to help a sick … uncle.”

  “Do I look stupid to you?” Sera fumed. She was furious. Did he think she would fall for something like this? She had never heard of anything called Fyre and, if something like that really did exist, how would Jude be the only one to know about it? And as far as she was concerned, Jude didn’t have a sick uncle, either.

  “Look, Ser,” Kyle said. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”

  Sera stared at him, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Kyle, you can’t afford to get mixed up with Jude. Whoever these Daeva are, it’s nothing to do with you. It’s his problem.�
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  Kyle shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It has everything to do with me.”

  They stared at each other in awkward silence, and then jumped at the sound of a door slamming followed by footsteps on the staircase.

  “Sera?” her mom’s voice called. “Is that you? Are you home?” Sera whirled toward Kyle, who stood half frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

  “Don’t just stand there. Move,” she hissed, pushing him toward her bathroom and turning on the speakers of her iPod dock. Loud music rushed out of them. The door to her bathroom clicked closed just as her bedroom door swung open. Her mother walked in.

  “Hi, Mom,” Sera said, her voice calm despite her racing heart. “Aren’t you supposed to be at yoga?”

  “Hi, darling. I was hoping you’d be home. How was school?”

  “Fine,” Sera said.

  “My class got canceled so I was thinking that maybe we could do an early dinner, just us girls. What do you think?” Sera chewed the inside of her lip, trying to find the most tactful way to get her mother out of her room before she was caught for having a boy—and particularly Kyle, whom her parents really didn’t like—in her bedroom.

  “Mom, I don’t feel that well. Can we do it tomorrow?” Sera said, staring at the floor and avoiding her mother’s eyes. “I actually came home early from play rehearsal.”

  “We need to talk, Sera,” her mother said, walking over to Sera’s desk with grim purpose. Sera frowned as she picked up a sketchbook and flipped it open. “Why don’t you tell me about these?”

  “You went through my stuff?” Sera said, grabbing the sketchpad and hugging it protectively to her chest.

  She was mortified that her mother had seen some of the last sketches she’d drawn after her dreams—impossible beings with multiple arms and faces, creatures with snarling mouths, and flying monsters. It was all there in shades of penciled gray.

  Her insanity.

  How could she have been so stupid as to leave the pad on her desk in plain sight of her parents?