Wicked Glory

by Gladden, DelSheree

  Finally, Oscar turns to Noah. “David called Isolde The Watcher. What does that mean?”

  The color drains from more face than one at the title. Noah is among those. He clears his throat, looking sick to his stomach as he struggles to find the right words. “A watcher is someone like me, who is sent to an area to look for signs of Godlings. We’re largely on our own, only reporting in when we find something concrete. There are thousands of watchers all over the world, but…”

  Noah’s eyes dart around to the people bearing down on him. “We watch, because… because we have no other way to identify Godlings.” His fingers start tapping against his leg, “At least, there’s not supposed to be any other way to seek you out.”

  Oscar takes only one step, but Noah and half the Godlings pressed in behind him all stumble back in fear. Oscar barely even seems to notice. He is too fixated on the answers to care. Leaning closer to Noah, he says, “But Isolde is different, right?”

  “Yes,” Noah says, “I think. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but if David called her The Watcher, he must have known. They certainly seemed to have some kind of history.”

  “You’re not sure?” Oscar demands.

  “No one ever mentioned a name!” Noah says, pleading with Oscar not to kill him. “We only heard the stories, about an Eroi who could sense Godlings. She could do it since she was a child. She found more Godlings than anyone else in her group did, than her entire group combined! Like she could sniff them out or something! It was unreal, so much so that most of the people I knew didn’t even believe the stories.”

  Annabelle steps forward, then, strangely just as intimidating as Oscar. “And what are those stories?”

  Noah swallows hard. “They said that as she got into her teen years, it wasn’t just Godlings she could find.” His eyes flit down to Ivy, and my blood curdles. Noah snaps his gaze back to Annabelle’s a second later. “She could track down Richiamos, too. She would find them, help train them, and find the perfect Godling to send them after. It became her signature. People called her the Matchmaker.”

  “That’s why he hated her so much,” Van says. She shakes her head, and I’m almost sure I see a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “David must have met Isolde at some point. She identified him, picked the perfect Eroi, and sent her after him. She was the one who caused all of this.”

  Van’s words seem to echo through the group. Having been a victim of a Richiamos, I know how easy it is to let your hatred consume you. If I hadn’t had Annabelle there to show me a better path, I might have ended up a carbon copy of David. Right down to his ultimate fate.

  “She’s not done with us,” I say. Everyone nods in resignation to the truth.

  My head falls as well. For so long, escaping David has been our focus. Outlasting him or outsmarting him, and in the end, outmaneuvering him in order to orchestrate his death. It has been our top priority and our biggest fear since he walked through our door. I thought it would end with his death. I thought we would be safe and free.

  I am startled out of my thoughts when a shadow crosses over me. Looking up, I find myself faced with an older woman whose hands are gesturing toward Ivy’s body. It takes me a moment to realize that she wants to take her. Sickened by the thought, I pull away.

  “Zander,” Annabelle says softly, and her hand touches my arm gently, “it’s okay.” She smiles reassuringly, but I won’t let go. Annabelle kneels on the broken ground and leans her head against my shoulder. “Remember when I told you about David bringing me here? Remember the nurse I said took care of me when I first woke up? This is her, Zander. This is Lucy. She’ll take good care of Ivy. She’ll get her ready.”

  “Ready? Ready for what?” I can’t let go. I just can’t.

  Lucy’s expression is pained, but she pats my hand with kindness. “Ready to say goodbye.”

  My eyes dance between them. I can’t seem to understand. The Godlings, they despise Richiamos. They won’t care for her with the respect she deserves. Slowly, Annabelle reaches for one of my hands. She is gentle as she peels my fingers away from Ivy’s body. Her voice is soft as she speaks. “Zander, everyone saw what she did, what she sacrificed for you. They heard what Oscar said, too. They understand now. She’ll be honored, I promise. It’s the least we can do for her.”

  The honesty in her voice makes my chest constrict. Annabelle could be angry with me. She could be hurt that I protected this woman who did so much to hurt me. It would be so simple for her to turn away after my confession of love for this poor, broken girl. There is no unkindness in her voice. It is the sadness and respect I hear that finally allows me to let Ivy go. Two more Godlings step forward to help Lucy and, together, they place her body on a stretcher I hadn’t realized had even been brought. The crowd parts for them as they carry her away.

  Annabelle’s hand on my arm turns into a more secure grip, and she helps me to my feet. I feel unstable without Ivy’s weight grounding me, but Annabelle is there to support me. She holds me up until I am strong enough to carry myself. I pull her into my arms immediately. “I’m sorry,” I whisper against her hair.

  Her head rolls back and forth slowly. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Zander. Nothing.”

  “But, what I said to her, it must have hurt you. I never meant to…”

  She touches her lips gently against mine. “I already knew,” she says with a sad smile. “I knew you loved her, and I wasn’t hurt by knowing that. I was only afraid that she would hurt you again, but she didn’t. She helped heal the scars she left, and I will be forever grateful to her for that. You don’t have to be sorry for loving her. I hope you always will because she is a part of you. She helped shape you, in good ways and bad, but in the end, she was willing to sacrifice everything for you. That is precious and should never be forgotten.”

  “It won’t be,” I promise.

  Annabelle nods with tears in her eyes. “I know it won’t.”

  Crushing her against me, I let hold her hold me tightly, letting her love begin to heal my wounds. “I love you, more than I can ever tell you.”

  “I love you,” she says. She kisses my cheek softly as she pulls back.

  I hate the thought of losing even the smallest amount of her warmth, but this war is only beginning. Turning back toward my family, I look to Oscar for direction. It is something new for me, but I find it oddly reassuring somehow. The way I saw him changed when I met Emily and Joshua. I finally began to understand this creature who had taken up space in my life but with whom I had never really connected. It showed me who he truly is, and that understanding only deepens as I see him taking charge to protect not just his family, but also those who are putting their trust in him.

  It’s a scary thought to know so many people are relying on him in this chaotic moment of tragedy, but I have faith in him. I feel useless standing on the fringe and, together, Annabelle and I approach Oscar and the others. “Do we have a plan?” I ask.

  Ketchup smirks. “Oscar always has a plan. Don’t you know that yet?”

  The corner of Oscar’s mouth turns up, but he holds onto his seriousness. “Isolde is clearly our biggest threat, but this mess of Godlings running around is in no way ready to take on an Eroi army. They need to be reorganized and retrained. We need to stamp out whatever David was shoving down their throats.”

  “They know where we are, though,” Annabelle says. “No one can stay here.”

  Oscar nods. “I have someone researching new locations already.” He pauses for a moment, as if cataloging something in his mind, and then continues. “We’re also going to hunt down David’s lackeys before they bring allies down on us. We can only send people we trust, though, and that… is a very small number.”

  “I’m in,” Van says immediately. Ketchup frowns, but he doesn’t argue. All he offers is a nod of solidarity. As if anyone doubted it, he assures us that wherever Van goes, he goes, too.

  “I’m in as well,” Noah says. His announcement causes more than one head to turn.


  Oscar eyes him skeptically. “You think we would trust an Eroi spy?”

  “I’ve kept your sister safe for much longer than you realize, Oscar. I’m not about to stop doing it now.”

  “Noah, what about your family?” Van asks.

  His face scrunches a bit, but in the end, he can only shrug. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Annabelle and I look at each other a moment, nodding in agreement. “We’re ready for whatever you need us for,” I say.

  Oscar nods and rubs his hands together. His eyes shine with a scary kind of anticipation. “I have not forgotten what you said, either,” he tells me. “Before I kill Isolde, I will find out where the other Richiamos are kept and trained. We will not leave them to suffer, Zander.”

  “Thank you.”

  Feeling satisfied with our first unofficial meeting as the ones left to pick up the pieces of David’s empire, Oscar says, “Now that we have everything on the table…”

  “Not everything,” Annabelle interrupts. She turns to look at me and immediately, I know what she is going to say. In the moments after Ivy’s death, losing her consumed me, but her final words come back to me now.

  “We have one other objective,” I say, “finding and saving Sonya.”

  “Who is Sonya?” Oscar asks.

  Everyone else seems confused, but Van looks suddenly sick to her stomach. When Ivy made the request, it was so quiet that I was surprised Annabelle managed to hear it. Clearly, Van is hearing the name for the first time. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “No, Sonya is supposed to be dead. She died as an infant, some kind of birth defect.”

  I grab my sister’s shoulder, forcing her to look at me. “Who. Is. Sonya?”

  Van is absolutely crestfallen as she says, “She’s Ivy’s little sister.”

  THE END

  Of Book Three

  Book Four, Wicked Revenge, will be available in 2015.

  Follow DelSheree online for updates on the series.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I have to thank everyone who beta read Wicked Glory. My beta team was amazing, as always, but it was really nice for once to get more compliments than suggestions for what to change and rewrite. That pretty much never happens, so thank you Susan Stec, Gail Wagner, Michelle Zeplin, Mylissa Demeyere, Kristy Hamilton, and Brittany Willis. I’m so thrilled you enjoyed the book, and your comments and suggestions smoothed off all the rough edges.

  I would feel remiss if I didn’t acknowledge all the dedicated Ketchup fans out there. He appreciates all your support, but he did ask me to remind everyone that he is taken, and anyone who attempts to poach him will have to go through Van. Good luck!

  Thank you once again to my family for supporting me in this adventure even when things get crazy and frustrating and chaotic.

  Check out a Sneak Peek of INVISIBLE:

  Book one of The Aerling Series

  By DelSheree Gladden

  Chapter One: Invisible

  (Olivia)

  My best friend is not imaginary. He’s not a ghost, either. And I’m pretty sure he isn’t a hallucination. He’s just Mason.

  He is, however, invisible.

  Zipping up my jeans as I stumble into my tennis shoes, I shuffle out of my room. By the time I reach the bathroom, I have both feet solidly in my shoes, even if the laces remain untied. One jiggle of the doorknob sets me to growling. Locked. My eyes dash to my sister, Evie’s, door, only to find her making her way down the hall herself. Her hair is sticking up in all sorts of wild ways, so it’s pretty safe to assume she hasn’t seen the inside of the bathroom yet, either.

  “Mason?” she asks, stifling a yawn.

  “Who else?” I grouch.

  Evie giggles. “You know, for someone who’s invisible, he sure does worry a lot about how he looks.”

  My little sister was the first person in my family to admit Mason was real. My mom and dad passed off my new friend as typical five-year-old stuff. Mom thought it was cute when I asked for extra snacks to share with Mason. Dad didn’t even hesitate when I asked if Mason could sleep in my room with me. Evie was only three when Mason first showed up, but she took to him right away. She thought it was great fun to watch him move things and make the cat fly. Really, he was just carrying the cat around in his arms, but since Evie can’t see Mason, to her it looked like everything he touched could float.

  I’ve always wondered why Mason’s clothes disappear when he puts them on, but the cat never did. He can put something in his pocket and it vanishes, but if he just holds it, it floats. Mason doesn’t know either. I think it must be something he’s doing without realizing, but Mason disagrees. As far as he knows, that’s just how it’s meant to work. Since he’s the invisible one and I’m not, it’s hard to argue with him.

  “Mason!” I yell as I pound on the door. “Hurry up!”

  I hear a muffled response, that I’m sure was not an apology for hogging the bathroom. I sigh and reach for the key. My fingers brush along the door frame for the simple metal shaft that acts as a rather low-tech key. Finally finding it, I shove the key into the lock and poke around until the door finally opens. Evie stalks in dutifully.

  Five seconds later, Mason howls as the shower water turns ice cold. Evie pops her head back out. “Did I get him?” she asks.

  Evie can’t hear Mason, either. Nobody but me can, not unless he’s touching them. And even then, they have to have accepted his presence as reality in order to hear him. I don’t know why that works, but it does. I learned a while ago to just accept the bizarreness that comes with Mason.

  Laughing, I nod. “Yeah, you got him.”

  Evie jumps out of the doorway, and just in time. Mason stalks out soon after with a towel slung around his waist. His eyes fasten onto me. The snarly expression on his face doesn’t faze me. “That was low, Olivia Lynn Mallory.”

  Ooh, he used my full name. I’m so not scared. “Quit hogging the bathroom.”

  “I was in the shower!” Mason snaps. “Naked!”

  I try not to laugh. I fail. “It’s not like she saw anything!”

  Mason bristles. “So! It’s the principle of the thing. I deserve some privacy!”

  “You have all the privacy in the world,” I laugh. “What you don’t have is the bathroom to yourself.”

  Evie and I both push past him and grab for our toothbrushes. I’m the only one who can hear Mason muttering under his breath as he storms away, but Evie can imagine his response well enough and giggles along with me.

  When our toothbrushes are both back in the holder, I turn to Evie and say, “Don’t mention that to Dad, okay?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Evie says.

  My little sister moves on to curling her hair as I fish around for my makeup. We may look alike with matching blonde hair and green eyes, but our tastes in hairstyles are vastly different. Evie’s locks turn into gorgeous spirals while I spray on a leave in conditioner to get mine straight and frizz free. As we get ready, I can’t help but think about how much my dad has changed when it comes to Mason.

  He was the last one to admit Mason was real. I had been out in the backyard when I was about eight years old, tossing a Frisbee back and forth with Mason. I’m not sure how long Dad stood there watching, trying to figure out how the Frisbee was stopping in midair and flinging itself back to me. It must have been long enough for him to see the implications. The good and the bad.

  The good included Dad getting to have a son. Not that he didn’t love his two daughters, but I think all dads want a son no matter what they say. There is something strangely fulfilling in playing catch—which is something Dad and Mason do on a regular basis now.

  The bad had to do with Dad realizing that when I asked three years earlier if Mason could sleep in my room with me, and he had said yes, he hadn’t just been playing pretend with me. Not that anyone worried about what Mason and I were doing at night at eight years old, but well… we wouldn’t be eight forever. The spare bedroom got cleaned out th
e next day.

  Now, eight years later, we’re all sitting down at the breakfast table. Mom dishes out five, rather than four, plates of fried eggs and sliced cantaloupe like normal. Nobody bats an eye when it looks like a fork is spearing fruit pieces all by itself. This is totally normal for us, but we don’t have people over for dinner very often.

  “Evie, did you finish your algebra homework?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah, Mason helped me with the last few problems.”

  Mom smiles at Mason—well in his general direction, anyway. “What about you two?” she asks Mason and I. “Did you finish your reports on The Federalist Papers?”

  “Mason’s is on your desk, and mine is in my backpack,” I answer for the both of us.

  You would think being invisible would get you out of homework. Not so. Once Mom quit freaking out about seeing Mason toss Evie in the air, she decided that if he was real, he was going to be treated just like her other children. He is required to sit through all my classes and turn in assignments. The only difference is, Mom grades his homework instead of my teachers.

  Dad looks up from his phone, where he was reading the morning’s most urgent emails, and says, “I have a couple of clients coming over this evening for dinner.”

  Mason’s body tenses in response to this news. I’m the only one who notices. I reach over to pat Mason’s knee reassuringly, but he pulls away. Frowning at his response, I turn back to Dad.

  “Mason, you’re excused from dinner tonight.”

  That only causes him to become even more glum.

  “Olivia, you’re excused as well.” Dad says, surprising both me and Mason. Dad hands over two crisp twenty dollar bills. “Have fun tonight, but please stay out of trouble.”

  Evie chuckles along with us at the memory of the incident Dad is referring to. We really didn’t think anyone else would be at the driving range that late. Mason just wanted to hit a few balls. None of us realized the attendant could see what we were doing. Poor guy.