by Wendi Wilson
Shit, no wonder they were staring.
I rush to my bag and dig through its contents until I find a lightweight sweater. Pushing my arms into the sleeves, I zip it up quickly before turning to face the boys again. They’re sitting on the bed, Slade flicking through the channels with the remote control while Silas watches the screen.
I can’t think of anything to say to break the strange silence, so I perch on the edge of the other bed. Wait. I can feel my eyes widen to an unnatural degree. There are only two beds in this room. That means I either have to sleep in the bed with Savanna’s parents, or with… Silas and Slade.
The thought halts my heart and I gasp for air, drawing the gaze of the two boys. I shake my head, letting them know I’m okay. I hope they don’t ask me what I was thinking about. Please, God, don’t let them ask me.
Slade opens his mouth, but I’m literally saved by the bell as a loud knock sounds on the door. Silas stands and moves toward it with light footfalls. Leaning in, he peeks through the peephole. His shoulders relax as he takes a step back and starts turning the locks.
“Pizza’s here,” he calls out over his shoulder as he swings the door open.
The spicy aroma of pepperoni and sauce hits my nose, making my stomach grumble. All discomfort forgotten, I jump to my feet and stride to the door. I take the first box from Silas so he can pay the delivery guy. I flip the lid up as I set it on the table and inhale. The steam warms my face and a moan rumbles in my throat.
I hear a chuckle behind me and I turn to see Slade smiling at me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“What?” I ask. “I’m starving and this smells so good.”
My eyes drift shut as I inhale again. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I open my eyes to see Silas beside me, a stack of paper plates in his hand. He passes one to me and I smile my thanks before turning my attention back to the pizza. Grabbing a slice, I plop it on the plate and head over to sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed the boys had been sitting on.
Silas slides a second pizza box underneath the first before he and his brother grab a few slices and turn toward me. They glance at each other, almost as if they’re speaking telepathically, before Slade shrugs and walks over. He sits on the edge of the bed, one bent leg resting on the mattress and the other foot planted on the floor.
Silas rounds the bed and sits on the opposite side, mimicking his brother’s position. He passes me a soda and I take it with a look of gratitude. He must have ordered drinks with the pizza. I pop the top and take a long drink, the fizzy liquid burning my tongue.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the television acting as background noise to our chewing. I want to break the silence, but after my awkward, might-as-well-be-naked exit from the bathroom and my thoughts of sleeping in their bed, I don’t know what to talk about.
So I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
“If you guys need blood, I don’t mind.”
I flinch as the words come out of my mouth. Oh, God. I made it sound like I wouldn’t mind if they bit me. Do they bite people? No, they don’t bite people. Right? What if they want to bite me? Heat pools in my center at the thought, which confuses me even more.
“Lizzie.”
The sound of my name pulls me from my frantic thoughts. “Huh?”
“I said, we’re fine for now,” Silas says.
“Yeah, the thought of us drinking in front of you obviously makes you uncomfortable,” Slade adds.
“It does not,” I snap, then soften my tone. “I told you guys already, it doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“Your blushing face and shaking fingers say otherwise,” Silas observes. “It’s okay, Lizzie. We understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
I don’t want to tell them the truth of what I was thinking about. It’s humiliating. But better for me to be embarrassed than for them to think they can’t be themselves in front of me.
“I was uncomfortable,” I say and, seeing Slade nod, I add, “but not because of what you think. You guys drinking blood from a flask in front of me is no big deal. Not anymore.”
They don’t ask any questions or make any response at all. My eyes flit back and forth between them, taking in the matching patient expressions on their matching gorgeous faces.
“I was…” I take a deep breath and blurt it all out in one breath. “I was thinking about you drinking my blood.”
Silas’s head rears back. “Why were you thinking that?”
“Did we do something to make you scared of us?” Slade asks.
“No. No,” I say looking at each of them as I say the word. “It was the way I said I didn’t mind. It sounded like I was offering myself as a… donor or something. Never mind. Forget it. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”
“Lizzie,” Silas says, setting his plate on the mattress before leaning toward me. “Alts don’t bite people. At least, the sane ones don’t.”
“I know that,” I say.
There had been a few scarce reports of Alts actually attacking people and biting them. Every one of them was diagnosed with some sort of mental disease, like schizophrenia.
“We would never bite you. Never,” Silas swears.
Some emotion must pass across my face, because Slade drops his plate and points at me.
“What was that?” he asks.
“What was what?”
“That look.”
He glances at Silas, who tilts his head and stares at me, one brow cocked.
“What look?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch and volume. “I didn’t have a look.”
“Yes. Yes, you did,” Slade says. “Silas promised we’d never bite you and you had a look.”
I take a drink of my soda to wet my suddenly parched throat. The bubbles burn as I swallow them down. I close my eyes and cough into my elbow. When I open my eyes, both boys are staring at me expectantly.
I refuse to speak. Nope. No way. Not going there. I take a small bite of my pizza.
But Slade refuses to back down. “Were you disappointed?”
I cough again as I almost inhale a string of cheese. Once my airway is clear, I ask, “Disappointed?”
Disappointment is exactly what I felt. But it was totally against my will. No way do I want the Madsen brothers to bite me.
“You were,” Slade says, his face lighting up with humor. Or pleasure. “You were disappointed that we promised to never bite you.”
“I was not,” I deny, but I know it’s no use. The truth is written all over my face.
“Slade,” Silas says in a warning tone.
“Okay, I’ll drop it. For now.”
He smiles at me, a roguish smile full of mischief and devilry. He may be dropping the subject for now, but he would be revisiting it.
I open my mouth to object once more, but the door lock beeps and the panel swings open, revealing Savanna’s parents. They greet us and Mr. James asks if there’s any food left, which effectively ends the conversation of whether or not I want Silas and Slade to bite me.
Thank God.
23
My worry about the sleeping arrangements was for nothing. As soon as everyone was done eating, Mrs. James opened the closet to reveal a roll-away bed stashed inside. I’m the smallest person in the room, so I volunteered to take it. Mr. James set it up in the space at the end of the two beds.
It took me forever to fall asleep, my mind a whirling blur. Worry for Savanna and her relationship with the Pattons, fear of my parents’ reaction when they find out what I’ve done, and thoughts of the Madsens swirled through my head on a never-ending loop that had me tossing and turning on the small cot. To top it off, the springs squeaked with every movement, so I was sure I was keeping everyone else awake, as well.
At some point past midnight, a shadow moved across the room, squatting down beside me. I tried to discern which twin it was in the dark, but it was impossible. Until he spoke.
“Do you want to trade spots? You can sleep in the bed with Slade if you’l
l be more comfortable,” Silas whispered.
I refused, telling him I was fine until he gave in and went back to bed.
Now I stand here in the parking lot with the twins and Savanna’s parents. It’s early, and I’m exhausted. I need coffee. Or more sleep.
A motel room door swings open and Savanna emerges with her three guys filing out behind her. She looks good. Happy and well-rested. They must have worked everything out last night.
We climb into the two vehicles and drive to a chain breakfast restaurant, one of those that serves waffles and pancakes and omelets of every variety. A waitress takes our orders and before I know it, a steaming cup of coffee is sitting in front of me.
“Thank you,” I say to the waitress, wrapping my hands around the warm cup and breathing in its heady aroma.
“Okay, we’ll start,” Silas offers, starting the conversation about what’s happened since we last saw Savanna.
“When we got home from practice, you were gone,” Slade says, looking hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” Savanna murmurs.
Silas shakes his head. “We know why you did what you did. We can move on,” he says, nudging his brother.
Slade smiles at her with a slight nod. “He’s right. Anyway, the guys were acting weird. When we asked them where you were, they just shrugged and acted like they didn’t care if you were even coming back.”
“We didn’t care,” Jett states, his face carefully blank.
Before Savanna can respond, Slade continues, “I was just about to punch one of them in the face when our parents got home. Silas took them into the other room to explain what was going on. They called the Pattons into the kitchen and talked to them without us there.”
“They got nowhere,” Silas adds.
“So, I decided to try punching them in the face,” Slade says, lowering his brows.
“You didn’t,” Savanna replies, sounding appalled.
“No, he didn’t,” I say, cutting in. “I showed up and told them what happened.”
“You knew what Savanna had planned?” Mrs. James accuses. “And you didn’t stop it?”
“Mom—”
“No, Savanna, it’s okay,” I say, cutting her off. “I already got my butt handed to me by those two,” I say, pointing at the Madsens.
Savanna looks at them, and I think she expects to see anger in their expressions. I glance at each of them, but there’s no anger there. Just half-smiles and heated eyes. Gah, I’m in so much trouble.
“I tried to talk Savanna out of it,” I continue, meeting Savanna’s mom’s gaze, “but you know your daughter. I’m just learning exactly how stubborn she can be.”
I shoot Savanna a smile to soften my words. She smiles back, letting me know she’s not offended. She knows I speak the truth.
“So, you walked in. Then what happened?” Savanna asks.
“I got Rocky and Rocky Jr. here to back off,” I say, jerking my thumb toward Silas and Slade, “and I tried talking to them.” I indicate the Pattons with my hand. “They were so… cold and nonchalant about the fact that you’d run off, I got mad. I started talking about how you could die, and even that didn’t faze them. It was like… they were broken.”
“This is where it gets good,” Slade adds, rubbing his palms together.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t mask the humor. “I started yelling at them to snap out of it and Jett told me to be quiet and go away. He tried to shoo me away like a bug. I lost it in true Savanna James style,” I say, my face heating. “I slapped him.”
“Oh, yeah,” Silas cries, laughing. “It was awesome. Rocky, the third.”
“Anyway,” I say, cutting off Silas’s humor, “I was so angry, I was shaking. I’m sorry, Savanna, I know you wanted them safe and to not be worried about you, but I couldn’t stand it. Knowing you were out there somewhere, in danger, and they were sitting around playing video games? It was too much. I screamed, ‘She persuaded you, you assholes, now snap out of it and remember!’”
“Then what happened?”
“We did,” Wyatt answers, leaning back in his chair. “As soon as she said those words, it was like a fog lifted. We remembered everything.”
Squirming, Savanna blurts, “But, how is that possible? How could Lizzie have broken the persuasion? She’s a norm.”
She shoots me an apologetic look for the classification. I shake it off. No offense taken. I am a norm.
“But she’s not,” Beckett says. “Not really. She has your blood inside her. It gave her your immunity to persuasion. Maybe it gave her something else, too.”
“The power to persuade Alts?” Savanna asks, a hand flying to her chest.
“No,” Silas says. “We tested that, and she can’t persuade anyone. But she can reverse persuasion. It’s amazing.”
“It was just one time,” I utter, my face getting even hotter.
“We haven’t really been able to test it,” Slade replies. “We pretty much had to tie these three down,” he says, pointing at each of the boys, “to keep them from running out the door and hitchhiking here.”
“We knew you weren’t meeting Dr. Patton until noon, so we talked them into waiting until morning. We could get there early and intercept you, without having to stay up all night,” I add.
“Like we slept,” Jett mumbles.
“We left at dawn, but the van got a flat,” Silas says, ignoring Jett. “We were sure we would still make it, but you weren’t at the statue. We were running around, searching, but we didn’t find you until it was too late. Dr. Patton shoved you into the car and you were gone.”
“So, how did you find the safe house?”
We tell her the rest of it. The police station, the cell phone, the plan to send me in first to assess the situation. She’s upset at the thought of me putting myself in the line of fire, and that warms my heart. Because of her reaction, the boys and I, by tacit agreement, leave out the whole bit about me fake-seducing Jimmy. Savanna would freak.
“Tell us what happened on your end,” Jett says.
“Dr. Patton took me to a party the president threw for campaign contributors.”
“The president?” Wyatt asks. “Like, of the United States?”
Savanna nods. “Apparently President Worth surrounds himself with Alts. He does it under the pretense of some sort of youth outreach program to cover the fact that they’re all so young. Somehow, he has earned their loyalty and they’ll do anything for him.”
“What kinds of things?” her father asks.
“He uses them to persuade people to agree with his policies, to support him, and to basically make himself a dictator. With their help, he can do whatever he wants with no one to contradict him.”
“That’s awful, but what does it have to do with you?” I ask.
I guess I should be surprised, shocked, appalled. Any normal person would be. But I’ve seen so much abuse of power, people using others for their own advantage in the Purist community that nothing really surprises me anymore when it comes to human nature.
The Alts aren’t the evil ones.
“Dr. Patton needed me, with my power to persuade other Alts, to get past the president’s personal security team. He told me to get the president’s ear, make sure he agrees to meet with the doctor, and agree to anything he says,” Savanna says, answering my question.
“Were you able to do it?” Beckett asks, his voice quiet.
“Yes,” she says. “The president asked me to meet him in private. He had a room at the hotel where the party was being held. I went up, neutralized his Alts, and persuaded him to set up a meeting with Dr. Patton.”
“So, we have to get in and stop that meeting,” Silas adds.
“I don’t think we can stop him,” Savanna replies. “I mean, it’s the freaking White House.”
“Wait,” Jett orders, frowning. “Back up. Why did the president want you to go up to a private room?”
A groan rumbles in Savanna’s chest. “It’s okay. I took care of it.”
> “Savanna,” he asserts, impatience and warning lacing his tone.
“Savanna?” Beckett asks, more of a concerned question.
Wyatt nods at her with encouragement, and she groans again. Taking a deep breath, she explains.
“Dr. Patton told me that the president uses his Alts for things beside political gain,” she says, her lips pinching together with obvious distaste. “He told me that Worth likes younger women. Like, a lot younger. When I got the invitation to go upstairs, he made me go by threatening my parents. I was to do no less than secure him the ear of the president.”
“What happened, Savanna?” her mom asks, looking worried.
“Nothing happened,” she promises. “Nothing happened,” she reiterates when her boys give her skeptical looks. “He used one of his Alts to try to persuade me. Of course, he had no idea I couldn’t be persuaded. It was a girl, younger than us. She looked me in the eyes and ordered me to let him do whatever he wanted. That I was to do whatever he told me to do and enjoy myself the whole time. Then to forget the whole thing ever happened.”
“That son of a bitch.”
“Dad,” she says, shocked by his outburst. “It didn’t happen. I’m okay.”
“Did he touch you?” Wyatt asks, his voice cracking with emotion.
I’m appalled. I know Brother Earl is shady, but the president of our country? He’s supposed to be our leader, someone we can count on to take this country to new heights. Not a serial rapist using children to force girls into letting him do dirty things to them.
“He kissed my neck,” Savanna says, pulling me back into the conversation. “It was disgusting, and I lost it. That’s when I persuaded his Alts to leave. I made him be still while I slapped the shit out of him. He’s been raping girls and they don’t even know. It’s sick. But he won’t be doing that again. I made sure of it.”
“Did you chop his penis off?” Slade asks, his voice sincere.
