“Don’t worry, little brother,” Oscar says through a semi-false smile. “I just wanted to give you a proper greeting for once.”
Not entirely sure what that means, I wait for him to make the first move. I’m startled when he wraps me up in a massive, bone-crushing hug. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds. I don’t miss Oscar’s eyes darting over the viewing window where some medical guy is watching us.
When we sit down a few seconds later, I ask, “What was that all about?”
Oscar rolls his eyes. “My psychologist thinks I’m having issues connecting with you because I don’t hug you like I do Van when she comes to visit. He thinks it’s because you found me that day.”
“Is it?” I ask.
The scathing look he gives makes me want to punch him. “Hardly. I just know you’ve never been a big hugger. It makes Van feel better, but it’s just makes you uncomfortable.”
He’s got that right.
“Anyway, why did you come today? I know it wasn’t just to catch up. You’ve either got news, or a problem.”
“Both, actually.”
Despite Oscar’s huff, he leans in eagerly. “News first.”
“David has amped up Van’s training. So far she’s keeping up, but it’s having an effect on her.”
“What kind of effect?” Oscar demands.
“She’s stopped complaining about working with him.”
Such simple words, but they set Oscar back against his chair. Both hands run through his hair nervously. “Have you asked her about it?”
“Of course, and she tells me what they’ve been doing, but I’m still worried. I don’t know if she realizes the way her attitude has changed.”
“What are they doing?” Oscar demands.
Shrugging, I almost wish there was something more sinister to point to. At least that would give me something to latch onto. “He’s been teaching her to throw knives mostly.” I hesitate before saying anything else because it could set Oscar off if he takes it the wrong way. He notices my hedging, though, and the look in his eye demands an answer. “He let her start dancing again.”
“Maybe that accounts for her attitude adjustment. She was pretty miserable not being allowed to go to the studio or teach.”
“He… watches her,” I say slowly.
The change is instant. Every muscle in Oscar’s body tightens to the point of snapping. He’s half out of his chair before I get a grip on his arm and pin him to the table. “It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “There nothing sexual about his interest, I’m sure of it. It’s more like he’s studying her while she dances.”
“Studying her for what?” Oscar hisses.
“For whatever job he’s grooming her for. I don’t know what that is yet.” I shake my head. “It’s certainly not the same thing he’s trying to prepare me for, that’s for sure.”
“Your training has intensified as well?”
I nod, not happy about the change. “He’s determined to make me create the burst of power again, but I haven’t even come close.”
“You can’t let him see it again!” Oscar demands, leaning over the table to crowd in next to me. I shove him back with a growl.
“I know that! I’m not stupid, Oscar. I have to show him something, though, or this deal with the Eroi is going to go south fast. They’re already bugging me for more information than I’m able to give. I don’t have access to anything else.”
Oscar sits back and looks at me curiously. “Is that the problem you came here to discuss? I don’t know how you expect me to help you.”
Despite the fact that I think Oscar knows a hell of a lot more than he’s willing to share, I shake my head. “No. I had something I wanted you to look at.”
I had to get permission from his doctor to bring the book and paper into the room with me. After they checked to make sure I wasn’t hiding anything Oscar could use as a weapon—not that he needs one to cause injury—they agreed to let me show them to him. I pull them both out now and set them on the table in front of him. He says nothing before scanning each text, pondering each one for a few minutes before finally looking back up at me.
“What do you expect me to tell you about these? They’re both versions of the same thing.”
I shake my head. “No, one is the Promise the Godlings hinge their whole belief about the Gift on, and the other comes from the Eroi.”
Oscar gives me a withering look. “Yes, I was able to piece that together on my own.” He waits for me to say something, but I don’t get what point he’s trying to make. Shaking his head at me, he deigns to explain his lofty logic. “They aren’t two separate prophecies or visions or whatever they want to call them. The Eroi didn’t steal the promise from the Godlings and Godlings didn’t steal it from the Eroi. It is simply two different interpretations of the same message. Simple. Not hard to figure out, little brother.”
“How could you possibly know that?” I ask. “Did Emily or Paolo figure it out?”
Folding his arms across his chest with a smirk, Oscar says, “They were both smarter than you, apparently.”
My answering grunt only makes him even more superior. “Regardless, care to explain how they figured it out?”
Oscar sighs. Clearly, this is beneath him, but he humors me. “Obviously, the Eroi did not steal it from the Godlings, and the Godlings would never lower themselves to copy something of the Eroi’s. You’re one of the few to actually see both versions. What is the likelihood of two independent groups both choosing the exact same name for their supposed oracle?”
Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know. Maybe Egidio was a popular name back then.”
Oscar barely holds back slapping me. “The correct answer is, highly unlikely.” He takes a deep breath and pulls his hands off the table to resist the urge to strangle me. “Egidio was a real person who had some kind of vision or what have you. The versions you have are simply that. Versions.”
“So which one is the truth?”
Dragging his hands down his face, Oscar shakes his head. “Do I really have to hold your hand through this, Zander? Neither one! They’re both interpretations of the real message, fit to what each group wanted to get out of it.”
“So, where do I find the real version?”
“How would I know?” Oscar says. He leans back in his chair casually, his frustration from a moment ago only a memory. Maybe not even that.
Great. Back to square one. I sigh, knowing this visit wasn’t a complete waste of time given what Oscar was able to tell me, but it wasn’t enough to avoid having to talk to Isolde again. A visit with that woman never comes without a price.
Chapter Twelve: A Grander Purpose
(Zander)
I thought being under David’s watchful eye made me feel like a lab rat. Isolde takes the idea to a whole new level. “What is all of this stuff?” I poke at the electrodes covering my body.
Isolde slaps my hands away and glares at me. “You’re worse than a two-year-old. Stop touching them,” she snaps.
“It’s a wonder you and my brother don’t get along better,” I mumble under my breath. Apparently, I wasn’t quiet enough.
Isolde’s head tilts to one side. “How is Oscar? You mentioned you went to see him earlier today.”
Trying to pin down exactly what undertone is rumbling around behind her words isn’t easy. After the way Oscar reacted to her the first time they met, I wouldn’t think she’d be eager to get within striking distance of him again. Yet, she seems curious, almost eager, to find herself in contact with him now.
“Uh, he’s fine,” I say. “As fine as he ever is.”
Tapping her pen against her lips, Isolde frowns. “I would very much like to study Oscar.”
Something in her voice makes my skin crawl. “Yeah, in what way?”
I half expect her to snap at me for that comment but, instead, one of her eyebrows tips up, along with the corner of her mouth. “In several.”
“You do remember that he threatened to
kill you, right?”
Isolde ignores that comment and motions for me to get up. I shake my head as I get down from the hospital-style bed and stand in front of her. “What now?”
“Now you go talk to Ivy.”
The step I was about to take stalls. “I thought you were going to answer my questions.”
“I will,” she says, “after I catalog your reactions and stress levels to being around Ivy.”
“Fine,” I grumble.
She leads me out of the medical wing of the building and down several halls. It’s the same room I met with Ivy in before. Isolde opens the door and waits for me to go in. I can’t help noticing the mangled doorknob has been replaced. I want answers from Isolde, but I don’t know how many more of these visits with Ivy I can handle. Bracing myself, I know it will be worse than last time. It’s always worse. Stepping into the room regardless, the lock flicks closed behind me. Ivy’s presence hits me square in the chest, and I sink to my knees.
I shut down. Everything goes dark, from my senses to my thoughts. I try to block out the pain, but I can’t. It washes over me. It seeps into my skin, my lungs. I’m drowning in it. Panic escalates within seconds. I can’t even run because my body won’t respond to my commands. It’s all I can do not to launch myself at her.
“Don’t try to block me out,” Ivy says softly from somewhere to my right. Her voice sends a shot of burning agony through my brain, and I curl up even tighter. She is relentless, though. “Zander, please, you have to accept my presence.”
“Go away!” I growl.
“I can’t,” she says. “We’re in here together until Isolde says we’re done. You have to find a way to deal with that if you have any hope of surviving this.”
I keep my eyes shut as tightly as I can, but talking serves as something of a distraction. “Why is she doing this? It won’t tell her anything. I’ve been through tests before, and nobody ever finds anything.”
“She’s not looking for the same things doctors are,” Ivy says. “Your blood betrays nothing.”
“Then what is it she’s looking for?” I demand. New pain rolls over me, and I curl in on myself.
Ivy sighs. “She’s looking for a reason to spare your life. She wants to know if you really are different from the other Godlings, or if your upbringing simply delayed the inevitable. Whatever information she gathers from you will be compared to other Godlings she’s tested.”
“What other Godlings?”
“Not all the Godlings we find are killed right away,” Ivy says and, for once, she actually seems somewhat ashamed.
“Lab rats,” I mutter. It doesn’t surprise me, really, but I’d like to think there is some humanity left in this psychotic group of hunters.
Several moments of silence pass, and every second that ticks by makes me wish Ivy would say something. It’s not her voice I want to hear. The silence doesn’t protect me like it once did. Now, with everything I have learned, with my heightened senses, it’s impossible to ignore Ivy’s small presence. Talking at least provided a little distraction. I struggle to find something that will get her talking again. My head is too muddled to think clearly.
When Ivy finally does speak, I wish she hadn’t.
“They’re sending me out on a new mission soon.”
“What?” I demand, my head popping up to make eye contact for the first time.
Ivy nods slowly. “My seclusion is almost over. I’m recovered from my injuries, and you were right when you said I didn’t have much time left. I need to fulfill my purpose.”
“Wait… no,” I say. “They can’t do that. Why would you do that? There’s nothing left for them to threaten you with.”
Her face wrinkles up as hurt fills her features. “That’s not why I did it the first time, Zander.”
“Then why? Why sacrifice yourself for them?”
“I’m going to die either way. I would rather my death served a purpose.”
“But it won’t!” I snap. Pushing up to something akin to a sitting position, I glare at her from across the room. “The promise isn’t even real!”
Confusion turns her lips down. “The what?”
“The promise! Whatever you guys call it. From Egidio. The one saying the Eroi will get a gift that destroys the Godlings. It’s not real, Ivy!”
Her head starts shaking back and forth. She refuses to agree with me but, suddenly, her hands are twisting together nervously. “Why would you say that?” she asks. “What could you know about the Covenant?”
“I know because the Godlings have the same thing, only it says they’re going to get a gift that will destroy all of you.” I watch as her features twist in confusion and uncertainty. “They’re both lies. You’re willing to die for something that isn’t even real.”
Slumping down to the floor, Ivy’s head continues to shake back and forth. “But you’re real. Van is real. You’re not human. You’re …”
“Demons?” I demand. I scoff at her. “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking to me now. Look at me, Ivy. Look at me!”
Startled, her head snaps up on instinct. There is fear in her eyes as she stares at me from across the room.
“If I was really a demon, would you have ever let yourself fall in love with me?”
Her lips pop open to contradict me, but she can’t. Tears brim in her eyes as her emotions rage war with logic. “I… it was just …”
“You really loved me, didn’t you?” I ask more softly.
That one simple question breaks whatever resistance she had left. “Yes,” she whispers.
“The Eroi keep telling you that I’m evil, that I have to be stopped because I’m not human and don’t belong on this earth, but what about you, Ivy?” I wait until she looks up at me, her tearful eyes suddenly hungry for the truth. “Should a human be able to do what you do? You’re more like me than you are like them, and they know it.”
I’m not surprised when the door is shoved open next to me, and a furious Isolde drags me to my feet and out of the room. The relief being away from Ivy inspires makes me weak. I stumble out of her grip and fall against the wall. My legs are too wobbly to keep me on my feet, and I slump down to the ground breathing hard. Isolde is right behind me. Her slender fingers wrap around my shirtfront and slam me back against the wall viciously.
Before she can say anything, I beat her to it. “You don’t like what I have to say to Ivy, stop putting me in the same room with her. You want your answers, and I want mine.”
“Is that what you came here for, to unhinge an emotionally unstable girl?”
“I came here to find out the truth!”
Isolde scoffs at me. “The truth is never as simple as you think it’s going to be.”
“Does that apply to your so-called Covenant?” I demand.
Whatever she wants to spit out on impulse gets swallowed like a hot coal, painful and sickening. I’m sure what she was about to tell me was that the Covenant is the truth, but she heard everything I said to Ivy, too.
“You didn’t know the Godlings had the same thing, did you?” She doesn’t answer, but I don’t need her to. Stiffly, I reach back, pull the printed copy of the Godling promise out of my back pocket, and toss it at her.
Isolde unfolds the paper warily, her eyes scanning it hungrily as soon as she has it open. “This doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” she says once she’s finished reading. Her hands are shaking as they curl around the piece of paper, crushing it. “Ivy is still…” Isolde’s eyes widen, and her mouth snaps shut.
I never imagined I’d be able to unhinge the Ice Queen enough that she would spill an important detail, but that’s exactly what she just did. Pulling myself up to standing, I tower over her. “You think Ivy is the Gift, don’t you? Why send her after me, then? Shouldn’t you have saved her for a grander purpose?”
“We did,” Isolde says. She smoothes her blouse down and digs up her usual iciness as best she can. When her eyes meet mine again, they’re almost as frigi
d as I would normally expect. “You and your siblings are different. I don’t know why, but you are. Ivy is the key to understanding the difference, but she’s also the key to the Godlings’ undoing. I thought you were the linchpin, but you proved me wrong when you failed to withstand Ivy.”
“But I didn’t kill her,” I argue.
“No, but you would have if not for your sister.” Isolde takes a step closer to me. Her thin frame and manicured nails are more intimidating than I care to admit. “If the Godlings believe in the Gift as well, they’re wrong if they think it’s you, Zander.”
I’ve had my own doubts, I’ll admit, but Isolde doesn’t know about what I did to James. That means something. Gift or not, whatever I did is important. Regardless, I meet Isolde with a blank expression. “If I’m not the Gift, who is?”
She laughs a condescending little laugh and pats my cheek like I am the two-year-old she accused me of being earlier. “Vanessa is the anomaly,” she says. “Why do you think I agreed to protect her?”
Chapter Thirteen: No More Hiding
(Vanessa)
The music is already playing as I take up my starting position. It feels good being back in the dance studio, even if I’m still somewhat limited on what I can do. Well, as far as my dance teachers are concerned, I’m still not at my full strength. They’re right. David doesn’t care about details like that. My idea of limits and his do not match up.
Pausing in a slight plié, arms outstretched, I want to strangle David for choosing this piece. I had no idea until recently that he’s a big fan of the ballet. Normally, I’d be thrilled to hear of someone supporting the arts. Not so much with David. His passion for the ballet translates into him knowing all the different classical ballets, how difficult the dances are, and how it’s supposed to look. Needless to say, I’m already making plans for our next knife throwing session.
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