Wicked Glory

by Gladden, DelSheree

  My head starts shaking back and forth as what was left of my energy completely abandons me. Noah is quick enough to catch me before I hit the ground, but panic sets in and suddenly, I can’t catch my breath no matter how hard I try. I can hear Noah talking. He’s holding me, his own panic adding to mine, but I feel strangely detached from the whole experience.

  What if that is the final test? Isolde will only protect me if I gain David’s trust and give her all his secrets. My breathing picks up to an impossible level, blackening the edges of my vision. If I’m meant to be David’s pocket assassin, how will I ever prove I’m ready without showing I can kill? I can’t. I can’t. My hands start flailing, trying to get away from Noah and his words. I fight against him, but everything starts to fade.

  “Van, you need to calm down,” Noah says harshly, right next to my ear.

  The cutting words push back some of the darkness. The panic still claws relentlessly, and I can’t escape its grasp. My lips move, begging, but words are beyond me. Tears burn down my cheeks as if my skin has suddenly turned to ice.

  “Van, please, just breathe,” Noah begs. “Just breathe.”

  I try. My chest convulses as I try to pull in air, but my body refuses to cooperate and more tears fall, hot and filled with fear. I’m helpless when Noah slips me off his lap and onto the floor. A small cry of panic escapes my lips as I think he’s leaving me, but Noah crouches over me a moment later. His hands feel too warm as he places one over my eyes and one just above my navel.

  “Shut everything down, Van. Concentrate on my voice and nothing else,” he says.

  The gentleness in his voice does little to calm me, but the pressure of his hand on my abdomen does something. It brings Ketchup to my mind, knowing that if for some bizarre reason he walked in right now, Noah would find himself laid out on the floor in two seconds flat. That is a rather comforting thought.

  “Breathe in, make my hand move,” Noah continues. “Focus only on the motion of your breathing.”

  As I concentrate on breathing and Ketchup, feeling slowly returns to my cramped up hands and feet. Tingling sets in, but it’s a welcome sensation after what I just experienced. It seems to take hours before I feel in control of not only my body, but my emotions as well. Finally, Noah sits back and helps me up to sitting. His face is white, and he looks as though he just ran ten miles. When he drags his hands down his face, I see that they’re still shaking.

  “What just happened?” Noah asks.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out like that.” My head dips down out of habit, fearing the reaction to yet another bizarre event. Noah only shakes his head.

  “Are you okay now?”

  I nod.

  “I shouldn’t have blown up like that,” Noah said. “I panicked when I saw what you were doing.”

  “What was I doing that was so bad?” I ask.

  Looking over at me questioningly, Noah says, “You really don’t know?”

  I feel stupid shaking my head, but it’s the only response I’ve got. What have I been missing this whole time?

  “What do assassins need to be able to do, Van?” Noah asks. “Stay in one position for a long time while they scope out their target, maintain precise control over their breathing and body, move silently through a crowd without disturbing anyone or calling attention to their presence, use their senses to orient themselves in the dark…”

  “And be deadly accurate,” I finish.

  “Target practice?”

  “Knives,” I say.

  Noah sighs, dropping his head into his hands. When he looks up, his eyes hold regret and fear. “You really didn’t know why we call you guys assassins?”

  “I think Zander knew,” I say, “but he didn’t tell me because he knew it would only make it harder for me to keep up my end of the bargain with Isolde.”

  Shuffling nervously, Noah seems intent on the linoleum we’re sitting on. “What exactly does this Isolde woman expect from you in return for her protection?”

  “Information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “The kind I can only get from David once I’ve made it into his inner circle,” I say.

  Noah releases his breath slowly. “As his newest, gold star assassin, right?”

  “That’s what I’m guessing.” Hearing the words out loud is even worse. This is what Zander hid from me. Those pictures Ketchup and I found, they were targets, but not Zander’s or Annabelle’s. All those dead people were Eroi, killed by David’s pets. Killed by the more experienced versions of me.

  “What are you going to do?” Noah asks.

  Shrugging, defeat presses down on me. “What else can I do?”

  This is my fate one way or another, by choice or by force. Like Ketchup said, I’m going into the lion’s den either way. The best I can do is try to control the situation. I have no choice but to become David’s newest and brightest assassin, but I’m doing it on my terms.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: A Better Use

  (Vanessa)

  The sound of my knocking seems to echo. It’s such a quiet sound that I worry it won’t be heard. I don’t want to wake his mom, though. It’s after ten, and I know she’s not a night owl at all. If she’s home, she’s snoozing peacefully, dreaming of not having to get up for work in the morning. I raise my hand to knock again, but hesitate when I hear shuffling coming my way. Ketchup pulls the door open a moment later, blinking away sleep, totally unaware of the effect he’s having on me.

  I can’t remember the last time I saw Ketchup without his shirt on but, clearly, even one day is too long. I feel like a wax figurine slowly melting in the sun as I stare as his sculpted abs and arms and… everything. This is by far the best benefit from David’s training, hands down.

  “Van?” Ketchup asks. “What are you doing here?” He blinks again, his eyes looking to the street. “How did you get here?”

  What did he just say?

  “Van?” Ketchup says a little louder. “Are you all right?”

  My eyes widen as I realize I’m still staring at him like a big, dopey moron. “What? Yeah. I’m totally fine.”

  Ketchup scrubs at his eyes before pinning a more serious look on me. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just needed to see… you… uh, talk to you, I mean. Yeah, talk to you.”

  Cocking his head to one side, Ketchups squints at me as if looking a little bit harder will tell him why I’m acting like such an idiot. My whole face turns scarlet as his eyes rake over me. The furious blushing seems to clue him in… and probably the fact that I’m still trying to pull my gaze away from his chest. A grin I know all too well splits his mouth and goes from confused stupor to leaning against the doorframe casual as you please, letting me stare all I want.

  “You needed to see me, huh? Seen enough yet?” he teases.

  Reluctantly, I force my eyes up to his. My thoughts are a little slower to catch up. “Yes… I mean no, uh, I mean that’s not why… why I came here.”

  “Do you even know why you came here?” Ketchup asks with a laugh. He doesn’t wait for another muddled response. Instead, he yanks me into his arms and drags me into the house as he kisses the few remaining sensible thoughts from my mind.

  If I couldn’t remember why I was here before, I have no clue by the time he pulls back. My pitiful whine when I lose contact with his lips makes Ketchup chuckle. “You are so adorable,” he says. “Do you know that?”

  “Adorable?” I complain. Not exactly what a teenage girl hopes to be called.

  “Yes, adorable,” Ketchup says, “like a little puppy.”

  “Can’t I be something a little more… sexy?”

  Ketchup’s lips press against the curve of my neck, working their way down slowly until his grip is about the only thing keeping me on my feet. By the time he works his way back up to my ear, I can’t even think anymore. “You’re already too sexy for your own good, Vanessa. Not pulling you back to my bedroom right now is taking every speck of
self-control I’ve got.”

  All it would take is one word. I know that. He knows that. We both want it. In this moment, we both really want it. I’m saying yes a million times in my mind, but everything that happened tonight is screaming just as loud. If I say yes, not only will I miss curfew, talking will be the last thing on our minds. Plus, his mom would only be one wall away. Not exactly how I envision this happening for the first time.

  “I want to say yes,” I whisper.

  “But…”

  “We need to talk.”

  Ketchup’s expression is pained, but he nods anyway. “You did come here for a reason other than to stare at my half-naked body, I suppose.”

  “If I had known that’s how you were going to answer the door, it would have been reason enough,” I say, even though I shouldn’t.

  Growling in response to that, Ketchup sweeps me into his arms and drops me on the couch in a heap. For a moment, I think he’s mad when he turns and starts to walk away. He only makes it to the doorway before turning back and saying, “I need something to drink. Want anything?”

  Really, he needs to get away from me for a few minutes. It kills me to let him go. “Coke, please.”

  He nods and disappears from view. I fall back against the couch and run my hands through my hair, trying not to think about Ketchup. Back in the studio, thinking about him saved me from completely shutting down. It’s scary how he is the one person who can calm me when I’m at my worst, yet rile me up to the point of forgetting everything else, no matter how important. I can’t imagine my life without him.

  How will I ever survive if David takes me away? What would David be willing to give me in exchange for coming willingly? An equally frightening thought creeps into my mind then. What if he doesn’t have to barter? What if he’s right… and I go regardless of what it might cost me?

  “Hey, Van,” Ketchup croons as he curls around me, “please don’t be upset. I wasn’t mad, I promise. I just needed to cool down for a minute.”

  “It’s not that,” I say as I wipe away a betraying tear.

  “Then what?”

  “I know what Zander was hiding on the phone. I know who all those dead people are. I know what David is training me to become.” My chest convulses as I try to keep back even more confusing emotions.

  Gently, Ketchup pushes an ice cold Coke can into my hand and settles me against the couch. “What happened tonight?”

  “I stayed after my last class to practice what David had me doing last night.”

  “The obstacle course?” Ketchup asks. When I nod, he seems even more confused. “It was a cool exercise, but pretty killer. I couldn’t make it through even a third of what you did. Why does that have you upset?”

  “It doesn’t. It was Noah. He dropped me off here on his way home,” I try to explain. “He had texted me earlier, wanting to talk, but I told him I was still at the studio. He drove over, and Lydia let him in before she took off. I didn’t hear him come in, and he saw what I was doing.”

  Ketchup’s brows scrunch together. “So?”

  I give up on drinking the Coke and just press it against my forehead instead. “He recognized it for what it was. He saw what I didn’t want to, Ketchup. He knew what David is trying to turn me into.”

  “What?” Ketchup asks.

  “Exactly what the Eroi think we are.”

  “Assassins,” Ketchup says.

  There isn’t nearly as much disbelief in his voice as I would have hoped. I can see from the look in his eyes that he already suspected, if not knew. Maybe I should be hurt by that, but Zander was right not to tell me about the files, and Ketchup knew exactly how I would react to this news. He proves that now by taking the Coke out of my hands and pulling me into his lap.

  “I’m sorry, Van.”

  “You already figured it out, then?” I ask.

  His nod is small and concise, as if getting it over with quickly. The muscled arms I was so captivated by only a few minute ago are now cradling me gently.

  “I have to keep going, regardless,” I say. “We’re out of options.”

  “I know.”

  There’s no judgment in his voice, no fear. There is acceptance. I realize this is something he made peace with a long time ago. Pulling against him more tightly, I hold onto the belief that I wasn’t made solely for destruction. Nothing so vile would ever be given someone like Ketchup. There has to be enough good in me for someone to have granted me this precious gift.

  “Do you know what scared me the most tonight?” I ask.

  “What?” Ketchup asks, though I suspect he already knows the answer.

  “I liked doing it, the training, I mean. Holding those positions, seeing how far I can push myself, the obstacle course, the sensory challenges, the knives. I’m good at it, and it feels right to use my hunger like that. I don’t want to stop once I get started.” I hold my breath after that admission.

  For several seconds, Ketchup doesn’t say anything. He strokes my hair several times before speaking. “You are good at it, and I see how it makes you feel every time you train with David.”

  “Does that scare you?” I ask.

  He shakes his head gently. “Not even a little.”

  “Why not?”

  Ketchup considers his answer carefully before speaking. “All that stuff Zander said about everyone’s purposes being messed up, that’s what I’ve thought from the beginning. There’s no way you were created to feast on other people’s suffering, taking it in and holding on to it, without there being some reason. It’s the same with this training. You aren’t good at all of this because you were meant to be an assassin. I don’t know what you’re meant to do yet, but I don’t believe it’s to be cruel to other people. All the energy you build up from feeding on pain, it’s more than just a weapon.”

  “What if I can’t figure it out before David turns me into his assassin?”

  “Well, then you’ll be the best damn assassin he’s ever seen.” I look up at Ketchup, not sure if he’s joking or being serious. The wicked glint in his eyes doesn’t help me out much, until he says, “And you’ll be the last assassin he ever sees.”

  I stare up at him in shock. “You want me to kill David?”

  “Can you think of a better use for what he’s teaching you?” Ketchup asks.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Even More

  (Zander)

  “My patience is growing short, Zander,” David says. His tone and choice of words pretend at calm, but the fury backing them is impossible to miss. He circles me slowly. The feeling that I am the mouse and he the lion is nothing new, but I can sense that he has just about had enough with me falling short.

  “I’m trying,” I say carefully.

  David nods, still pacing around me as I struggle to stay upright. “Trying, yes, but what are you trying?”

  Fear sinks into me. He can’t possibly know. Keeping my eyes down, I focus every bit of concentration I have on not showing him my thoughts.

  “You seem to think I’m not capable of understanding what caused you to use your power against James, but I do understand. Better than you, I would wager.”

  Holding back any relief that maybe he wasn’t talking about Isolde and the Eroi, I risk glancing up at him. “If you know more than me, why continue to let me beat my head against a wall?” I turn to keep him in my sights as he walks. “Why not simply tell me how to do it again?”

  David stops pacing and turns to glare at me. “I never said I knew how to duplicate it, just that I understand more than you do about its source.”

  “The source is stored pain,” I say, confused. We both already knew that. I told him that after it happened. I’ve been telling him that for months. That’s why he keeps trying to bring me to the same level of contained pain and hunger that I hit when I fought James. It just hasn’t worked yet. Thankfully.

  Reaching down, David yanks me up from the ground. His fiery eyes bore into me. “No, Zander, the source is desperation.”

  I
can only stare back at him, not really sure what he means.

  Shoving me back, David watches as I stumble and fight to keep my weary legs from buckling. “What was running through your head as you fought James?”

  “That I had to win.”

  “Why?”

  “To prove myself.”

  “What were you trying to prove?” David demands.

  I shake my head at his stupid questions. “To prove I wasn’t as weak as everyone thought I was. To prove I have what it takes to be a Godling. To prove myself to you. To prove…” My words falter as the answer he was looking for stalls on my lips. He steps forward, forcing me to finish. “To prove to myself that I shouldn’t have just let the Eroi kill me.”

  “Exactly,” David snaps. The fervor in his voice is disturbing. “You knew what would happen if you failed. You knew how everyone would look at you, but even more, you would have proved to yourself that you were a failure, a mistake, something damaged and broken. That’s what you fear most, isn’t it? Finding out all your childhood nightmares are real?”

  David stalks back to face me, crowding in front of me in a way that is somehow both frightening and reassuring at the same time. “You don’t want to be any of those things. You want to be special. You crave the feeling you get when you use your power and do something no one else can. Don’t you?”

  I don’t say anything, but the tightening of my jaw to stop the words he knows are festering in my mind is answer enough.

  “You want to be the Gift.” He towers over me by barely more than an inch, but suddenly, I feel small in the face of his presence. “Don’t you?” he demands.

  “Yes,” I snap.