* * * * *
I shivered in the parking lot of Leno's. Early dawn light broke over the horizon, proof that I lived another day. I still felt exposed as I jogged down the street to my waiting bike.
Darius's offer tempted the dark magic that I struggled to control. The power inside of me relished the memory of fiery screams and twisted bodies. It waged in my heart like a captive storm, desperate to be unleashed.
At first, it felt amazing. The taste of Ceres' heartbeat on my tongue was a heady drug. The power made me unstoppable. I was the true Wayward daughter my family always wanted me to be.
But even at my strongest, I wasn't in control. The magic had a will of it's own. It raged inside of me like a forest fire, barely at the edges of my control.
Valentine had relished in my uncertainty. He drank the fear from my lips like nectar from the gods.
So I ran. And I vowed to never let the magic control me again. That meant living like a human—hiding in the few places where magic didn't reach. Even the smallest exercise of power was an impossible temptation.
I slid onto the bike and pulled on the gloves I kept tucked inside my jacket. The gas gauge shone in the harsh light from a streetlamp. I tapped it hard with my knuckles, hoping the reading was just because I parked at an angle. The needle twitched but landed well below the line marked "E." I barely had enough juice left to get the engine to turn over.
I cursed into my helmet. I wondered how far I'd get by throwing it into neutral and letting the bike roll down the street. I had no plan and nowhere to go.
The deal with Darius wasn't an option—I knew that much. I would figure things out. I always had before.
Something barreled into me from one side. The force of it knocked me off the bike. I hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Pain blossomed like a hothouse flower, starting at my shoulder and radiating outward. I tasted the metallic salt of blood in my mouth.
My head seemed too heavy to lift as I struggled to my knees. My vision blurred and I fought not to pass out. I searched the darkness for any sign of movement. Was I hit by a man, a monster, or a freight train?
A single figure stepped into the light of a streetlamp and I saw a face that could easily grace magazine covers. Long, blonde hair topped a heart-shaped face with dimpled cheeks and full lips. Grass-green eyes glared at me from under delicately arched brows.
Cynthie Athenum-Abell—the most vicious girl that I had ever met and Ceres's youngest sister.
"Look what I found." Her voice was like dark honey—deep and rich with enough sweetness to fool you into thinking she was just another pretty girl.
Cynthie missed the wedding, but she had been one of the most vehement voices calling for my immediate demise in the aftermath of that night. Only fear kept her from coming after me herself. Until now.
"Keep frowning like that and you'll get wrinkles." My vision fragmented so that several Cynthies were glaring down at me.
"I don't remember you being so clever." Her closed fist cracked across my face, knocking me back to the ground. "I hope that means you'll make this fun."
A kick to the chest knocked the air out of my lungs.
I stared into her angry eyes. Without magic, I was looking into the face of my own death. I had no defenses against her.
"Nothing to say?" Cynthie asked pleasantly. She kicked out again but I rolled away and managed to rise unsteadily to my feet.
At least with Cynthie it would be over quickly.
"Would screw you help?" I painfully worked my swelling jaw.
With a growl, Cynthie grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me back to my knees. Using the hold as leverage, she wrenched my head back to expose the long line of my throat.
"Blood price paid with flesh and bone." Her fingers felt along my skin until they hovered over the frantic beat of my pulse. "And it's going to hurt."
I felt the harsh dig of her fingers in my neck and she was in my mind with the cold precision of a knife blade. It wasn't like Ceres' cruel invasion.
He had wanted his rape of my mind to mimic a rape of my body—a twisted manifestation of the power he wanted to have over me. Cynthie wasn't trying to control me. She just wanted it to hurt.
I collapsed to the ground and Cynthie followed me down. No one would help me. There was little chance of passerby this early in the morning. And all they would see was two teenage girls wrapped around each other in a dark alley. Titillating, but unlikely to inspire a heroic rescue.
Pain coalesced into a fractured point and I prayed it would just dissolve into blessed emptiness. When everything was gone, I could finally rest.
You deserve to survive, no matter what the cost.
My hand touched something smooth as I groped on the ground for purchase. Jagged glass sliced my fingers as I wrapped my hand around a piece of broken side mirror from my bike. Mustering the little strength I had left, I shoved up with my hand and didn't stop until I felt yielding flesh.
Cynthie howled like a scalded cat and leapt back. She stared in surprised horror at the long gash I had opened in her side.
Ignoring the sharp stab of pain from what I suspected was a broken rib, I slowly stood. I held the piece of mirror in front of me like a weapon.
"I'm going to kill you," she growled.
"Well, I'm certainly not going to kill myself," I replied, feeling lightheaded. She hit me harder than I thought.
I tensed in preparation of her attack but Cynthie paused and tilted her head to the side as if scenting the wind. To my amazement, she slowly backed away, never taking her eyes off me.
"This isn't over, Helena," she said softly and was gone.
My hand shook and colored dots danced before my eyes.
"My name is Hex," I said testily and collapsed to the ground.
It took several minutes to get my feet under me. Once the blinding pain in my head and ribs subsided to a dull throb, I begin the slow trek across the street to a convenience store on the corner. I didn't want anyone at Leno's to see my like this—they'd ask questions that I didn't want to answer.
The Stop-N-Shop was closed for the night but a payphone stood out front like a desert mirage.
My slow limp past the gas pumps may as well have been a twenty-mile hike. When I reached the building, I leaned heavily against the cold brick. It took several deep breaths before I was sure I wouldn't pass out.
Both of my hands gripped the sticky receiver and I prayed for a dial tone. The familiar sound of an active line was a relief so visceral that my knees went weak.
I fished in my pockets. Had I lost it? My fingers touched the slim paper and I frantically pulled it free. The business card was crumpled but still legible. I fished a handful of change out of my jacket pocket. Each coin seemed deafeningly loud as I pushed them into the slot.
Pain exploded in my head from the effort of pressing each individual button. The phone rang once. Then twice. On the third ring, sick dread coiled in the pit of my stomach. Finally the receiver clicked and a smooth voice spoke over the line.
"Yes."
I forced myself to speak through the punishing tightness in my jaw. "I thought about it."
Silence. It went for so long that I thought he had hung up. "That didn't take long."
My ribs ached as I leaned against the wall—which was all that kept me upright. "I've been persuaded."
"And?" he asked softly.
"I have a few conditions."
"Where and when?"
I took a deep breath to mask a sound of pain. "A convenience store across from Leno's. Come as soon as you can."
The line disconnected.
I pressed my back hard against the wall next to the payphone, in an effort to keep my legs from collapsing. Pain was a wave that rose and crested, fading and returning stronger than before. I had to sit down, just for a minute.
"You look like a homeless person."
My eyes were swollen and heavy but I forced them to open. Darius stood over me with a frown on his face, m
orning light casting a halo around his head.
"If I'd known you were planning to lay down in the street and die, I would have come sooner." He reached down and pulled me to my feet.
"Not in the street," I said thickly. "This is a parking lot."
"Indeed." I swayed and Darius caught me before I crashed to the ground. He wrapped one of my arms around his neck and helped me to the bus stop several feet away. "What on earth happened to you?"
"Cynthie Abell." The world spun crazily as he maneuvered us into the tall glass enclosure and lowered me onto a wooden bench.
"She does good work," he mused. "I assume that's why you called."
"She hit me like a Mack truck."
Darius eyed the bloodstain on the front of my shirt and sniffed loudly. "Without your cooperation, I have no incentive to conceal your whereabouts from the families."
My head felt like it was splitting in half. "Bastard."
"Quite," he said shortly. "I thought we were here to bargain."
"Can't do magic."
"That's nice, dear." He examined his nails. "You said you had conditions."
"That's number one. No magic." My cheeks felt like they were full of cotton. I touched the corner of my mouth to make sure I wasn't drooling on myself. "Take care of Valentine yourself."
"I suppose that was asking a little much of you." He eyed me disdainfully. "Fine, you find me a weakness and I will take care of the rest." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Anything else?"
"You can't renege on my blood debt." I took a deep breath. "Even if I fail, my bloodprice is paid."
"Is that all?" he drawled.
I nodded and stars exploded in front of my eyes.
"Done."
Darius stood and pulled a small envelope from the inside of his coat. He tossed it into my lap. "Your plane leaves tonight. There's money there for a cab and food." He gave me a mocking once-over. "Clean yourself up a little before you go. Your mother would not approve."
I opened the envelope—plane tickets and more cash than I'd seen in a long time. I was really going to do it, fall back into the bosom of my family with no defenses and no hope.
It wasn't just my family or Valentine's dark charm that I had to worry about. Returning home meant revisiting a place that I spent the better part of the last year trying to forget.
I was going back to high school.
Wayward Page 9
