Gena Showalter - Intertwined 02 (8 page)

There was a big difference in what people needed to do to defend themselves and what they needed to do to
attack someone else. A big,
dangerous
difference. “Riley won't like it.”

She shrugged, swirling a finger along the cotton comforter. “He'll have to get over it. I
need
to do this. I don't want to be a liability anymore.”

That, Aden understood. Perfectly. “I'll teach you.”

She clapped as if he'd just told her she'd won the lottery. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, mirroring her earlier words. “So when do you want to start?”

She whipped her cell phone from her back pocket and checked the time. “We have a few hours until I have to be home from school. And I can't believe I'm saying this, rather than rushing back to class, but…why not now?”

Those sandwiches had given him strength, though he wasn't one hundred percent racer ready. Still. He nodded. This girl had been the first person to accept him for who and what he was; he owed her. “We'll have to go out back. The boys are in the front, and it'll be better if they don't see us.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Outside, the clouds were thicker than they'd been even a few moments ago when he'd peeked through the window, the air chilled and laced with dew. A storm was on its way.

He positioned Mary Ann on the grass, then moved in front of her. “First up, defense. And to do that, you have
to learn how people will strike at you. Which means I'll have to strike at you.”

Determined, she nodded. “Okay. I'm ready.”

The next few hours passed quickly, and by the end, they were sweaty, grass-stained and exhausted, but mostly wet and muddy. A fine drizzle had started fifteen minutes ago. Mary Ann was pretty bruised up. Fine, Aden was, too. He'd been jabbed, punched, poked and tripped. And yeah, he'd done the same to Mary Ann. Experience was the only way to learn. Because, if she was afraid of pain, she would cower rather than act. So he'd had to show her she could withstand anything.

Surprisingly, she had. Better than he'd hoped.

“So tell me what you've learned so far,” he said, standing in front of her again.

“Screaming is good. And punching people in the throat is far more effective than punching them in the face or stomach. Plus, throat punching is something anyone can do, even fragile little girls, since it doesn't take much force to do a lot of damage there.” This last was said in a mockingly deep voice, mimicking him. She tightened her borrowed jacket around her middle. The only time they'd stopped practicing was when he'd gone to fetch her that jacket from his closet. “I should use my fists as if they're hammers, or even hit with my open palm.”

“Good. What else?”

“Anything can be used as a weapon. Rocks. Keys. A purse.”

He nodded. “What else?”

“I shouldn't use my toes when I kick. There's not enough power there. I should use the flat part of my foot. Oh, and kneeing my attacker in the groin is acceptable. Even encouraged. So is eye-poking. I shouldn't be afraid to cause this person pain, since their main goal is to hurt me.” She spoke as if she were reciting gospel. “If my back is to them, I should try and elbow the guy—or girl—in the face. That causes a lot of pain and stuns them, allowing me to try and get away.”

“Good. Now let's put some of that information to the test. I'm going for your neck this time,” he warned her. “My plan is to choke you. Do you remember what to do?”

She nodded. “As quickly as possible, I'm to move both my arms between yours and hit your elbows with mine.”

“And?”

“And knee you in the groin.”

“Yeah, but let's just pretend on that last one. And by the way, an attacker won't usually give you a heads-up.”

Her lips quirked at the corners. “Much as I wish otherwise.”

Next time, he wouldn't warn her what he was going
to do. He'd just act, and she'd have to figure out what to do without forethought. “Ready?”

“Read—”

Leaves rattled a few yards away, and they both turned.

“Aden? Mary Ann?” Shannon had just stepped from the forest, a backpack dangling at his side.

“Hey,” they called in unison.

“I—I wondered where you'd gone after lunch,” Shannon said to Mary Ann.

Guilt danced in her eyes. “I should have told you I was leaving. I'm sorry. But if you're home, that means school's out, and I have to leave again now.” She closed the distance to Aden and kissed his cheek. “Will you be okay?” she whispered. “Because the fairy's going to come back. The moment I'm gone, he's going to come back.”

“I know. And yes, I'll be fine,” he lied. He had no idea how to deal with Thomas, or how far Thomas could roam. Still. He gave Mary Ann a gentle push toward the forest. “Go home before you get into trouble with your dad.”

“I'm going to call him and tell him I'm heading to the library. Which is true. I want to dig around and see if I can find any books on spells, that sort of thing. I'll keep you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome. And thank
you
for the lessons. Not that my gratitude will save you from my ferocious wrath during our next lesson.”

“Those are fighting words, girl,” he said with a laugh. “But maybe you should go home and change before you hit the library.” He gazed pointedly at her muddy jeans.

“Will do!” Laughing herself, Mary Ann took off, stopping only to kiss Shannon on the cheek. When she reached the line of trees, a pair of green eyes and bared white teeth flashed through a thick bush.

Animal…hiding.
The realization jolted him, and Aden sprinted forward. But then Mary Ann uttered another laugh, the sound just as free and happy.

Riley, he realized, stopping. A pissed Riley, at that. That scowl had been for Aden's benefit, he was sure. Had the wolf watched the defense lesson? Or had he witnessed the kiss Mary Ann had bestowed upon his cheek?

He'd find out. Later. First, he knew, Riley would walk Mary Ann home.

Thank God,
Julian said.
We're back.

What happened while we were gone?
Caleb asked.
Why are we outside?

Were you…fighting?
Elijah demanded.

“Guys,” he muttered. “I'll have to explain later.”

Shannon reached him, clearly concerned. “W-where
were you t-today? I told Dan you'd already l-left for school this morning, so you're clear on that front.”

“Thank you.” Aden was still amazed that he and Shannon were friends. They hadn't started off that way, but they were pretty tight now. And it was nice. Even so, he couldn't tell Shannon the truth. Boy knew nothing about the real world and the creatures populating it, and that was for the best. “Come on. Let's go in, and I'll tell you everything.” Yet nothing.

They headed into the bunkhouse, where the others were already washed up and in dry clothes, watching TV in the living room as if they'd just finished up their schoolwork like good little boys.

Aden waved at them, and kept moving. He and Shannon needed to talk, but what he would say, he still didn't know. After that, he needed some time alone to talk to the souls. Where he would go, though, he didn't know.

“Well, well,” another familiar voice said when he entered his room. “Look who's back. Me.”

Freaking fantastic,
Caleb grumbled.

Not good,
Elijah said with a sigh.

Aden didn't have to look around to know that the ghost prince had indeed returned. His hands curled into fists as he wondered if he'd ever lead a normal life.

“Aden?” Shannon said beside him. “You okay? The
guys asked if y-you wanted to watch Sports Center with them.”

At the same time, Thomas said, “Tell me what you did to me. Tell me why I'm here, why my people can't see or hear me. Why no one but you can. Tell me!”

The voices blended together, making the words intelligible. He knew then that he wouldn't be having a conversation with Shannon anytime soon. Nor would he find that private moment with the souls.

Not knowing what else to do, Aden covered his ears and threw himself on his mattress to wait out the storm.

T
UCKER
H
ARBOR HUDDLED
in the corner of a dim, damp crypt, surrounded by darkness and flat-out creepiness. A spider might have just crawled over his hand, and was that a mouse squeaking? He would have given anything to
see
.

He hadn't wanted to come here. He'd been lying on a hospital gurney, hooked to all kinds of monitors, drugs pumping straight into his veins, chasing away the pain. Yet
the voice
had called to him, drifting through his head, and he'd found himself unhooking the tethers, rising, walking, finally running, desperate to be wherever
the voice
wanted him to be.

Unfortunately, getting here hadn't been that difficult. No one had tried to stop him, and his “gift” hadn't been on the fritz. Tucker had cast illusions—something he'd been able to do his entire life. Whatever he envisioned in his mind, he could create around him. Or rather, make people think was around him.

If he pictured a gutter, a gutter would seem to encase him. If he pictured a circus, a circus would seem to appear, with him in the center ring. On his way out of the hospital, he'd pictured himself as the wall beside him. Outside, he'd pictured himself in a T-shirt and jeans, rather than this paper-thin gown.

So now, here he was. In pain, again, still weak from the vampire bites he'd endured only a few days ago—or maybe hours ago, he didn't know anymore. Time was just…time. Ticking away, but not part of his awareness anymore. Maybe because he didn't care.

Which he didn't understand. He'd been tied to a table as if he were dessert, and vampires—real-life freaking bloodsuckers—had been allowed to simply lean over and bite him. Anywhere they had desired. He'd wanted to die. But then, as the blood had drained from him, his body growing cold, his conscious mind dimming, he'd wanted to live. So badly.

Then Aden Stone and Mary Ann had come to his rescue. He'd been so grateful. He'd thought,
I'm going to turn my life around. I'm not going to cause trouble anymore. When I want to do bad things, like grinding my fist into as many faces as I can, watching the blood pour and hearing the screams echo, like stealing and fighting and hurting my mom with mean words just to hear her cry, I'm going to ignore the urges
.

Yet now, without the threat of death hovering over him, without the utter helplessness, without the drugs, he wanted to do all of those things again. And he couldn't ignore the urges. On the way here, he'd punched a middle-aged man he'd never met, felt the guy's teeth cutting into his knuckles, and had laughed. Laughed. Because he'd liked inflicting pain.

I'm a monster
.

The only time those kinds of urges left him was when he was with Mary Ann. They'd dated for several months, and for those several months he'd been blissfully happy. Of course, being Tucker, he'd managed to ruin everything.

She'd taken off one night, so he'd visited her neighbor and best friend, Penny Parks. He and Penny had tossed back a few beers, had stupid unprotected sex, and now Penny was pregnant with his kid. Or so she said.

Part of him believed her. The human part of him that hated when he acted like a maniac. The other part of him, the part where all those urges churned, didn't want to believe her.

He needed Mary Ann again. Not as a girlfriend. Just as a friend. He wasn't sure he'd ever really wanted her romantically. He just liked how she made him feel. She would fix him, make him better again. And maybe then he could be a better dad to his kid than his own father had ever been to him.

Somewhere in the dark, he heard the whisper of cloth against flesh, the sound somehow far more obscene than the squeak of that mouse. Then, “You came,” a hard, emotionless voice said from the darkness. “Good boy.”

The voice
. Only this time, it wasn't inside his head.

As his heart pounded out of control, Tucker straightened. He still couldn't see anything. There wasn't a single beam of light in this crypt, and dust layered the air. Dust and death. “Y-yes. I try to be.” He would try to be anything this man wanted. “Who are you?”

“I am your king.”

Four simple words, but they changed Tucker's life. Irrevocably. Yes. He belonged to the owner of that voice. It was strong, powerful, almost as if magic floated from each syllable, wrapping around him, tightening…tightening…controlling. More than being what this man wanted, Tucker would do whatever was asked of him, whenever it was asked. Happily.

“Vlad,” he said, knowing the name deep in his soul. He inclined his head in reverent greeting, even though he couldn't be seen. Or could Vlad's gaze pierce the darkness?

“Yes. I am Vlad. And there is someone else you know, Tucker. Someone I am deeply interested in. Aden Stone.”

A statement, not a question, yet Tucker replied any
way. “Yes.” He couldn't help himself. Must please Vlad. Must always please Vlad. “I know him.”

“You will watch him.”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“You will tell me everything you learn.”

“Yes.” Anything. Everything.

“That is good. I am counting on you, Tucker. Do not let me down. Because, you see, he took my crown, and when the time is right, I will take it back.”

 

T
HE NEXT FEW HOURS
of Aden's life passed in a blur. Shannon realized something was wrong with him and tried to distract him, telling him about his day and how Mr. Klien, their chemistry teacher, had had him stand at the front of the class doing finger-strengthening exercises the entire period for dropping one of his test vials.

At the same time, Thomas continued to barrage him with rapid-fire questions. “Why can't my kind see or hear me anymore? Why did I disappear into a black hole after the vampire and werewolf left?”

At the same time, Elijah demanded they discuss the coming vampire assembly. Plans needed to be made. What if there was a rebellion and someone tried to de-throne him?

At the same time, Caleb outlined what Aden should wear to impress Victoria enough to make out with
him. Black leather was a top contender. Whipped cream, too.

At the same time, Julian wrote an I'm-sorry poem for him to give to Victoria.
Oh, sweet darling, my heart bleeds. But you love blood. And I am mud. Forgive me.

That's when Caleb became mocking, and Elijah incensed. Blah, blah, blah.

Through it all, Aden even thought he heard wolves howling in the background.
Arf, arf, arf,
he thought mockingly.

His head throbbed. He couldn't keep up with the chatter, the words and sounds doing more than blending together. They were creating an ever-increasing buzz that hammered against his skull.

Finally, he gave up. He rolled over, closed his eyes and tried to block out all of them. Peace. He just needed a little peace.

Soon, lack of rest and dying-by-proxy twice caught up with him, and he drifted in and out of agitated slumber. No, slumber wasn't the right word. He wasn't asleep, but he couldn't move. Even when Shannon shook him, he couldn't move or respond. It was like someone had tied his arms and legs to the bed. Like his eyelids had been taped open, and he couldn't blink, even when his eyes dried and burned.

What was wrong with him?

He was vaguely aware of Shannon leaving the room
and returning with Dan, who looked him over with concern. Dan tried to talk to him as he undressed Aden and tucked him under covers, but still Aden couldn't answer. One, his jaw was as useless as the rest of him, and two, he simply couldn't wade through the sea of voices, his awareness still being tugged in too many different directions.

Besides, Dan would think he was crazy—like everyone had always called him—if he answered something incorrectly.

Finally, Dan left and he sighed with relief. Short-lived relief. On and on the souls chattered. On and on Thomas spewed demands. Then Dan returned with Dr. Hennessy, Aden's newest therapist, adding something more to the mix.

Dr. Hennessy looked him over, as well, frowning but not concerned. The doctor was a short, balding man, with wire-framed glasses and cold brown eyes, and he never showed any type of emotion. He was clinical, impersonal and always radiated shrewd awareness.

Questions were hurled at him. Aden could only decipher two words:
catatonic
and
regressed
.

Were they talking about
him?

Of course they were. Pills were shoved into Aden's mouth, and he tried to spit them out. Dr. Hennessy pinched his nose closed and held his jaw still, his purpose clear. If Aden wanted to breathe, he'd have to swallow.

“Take your medicine like a good boy, Aden,” the doctor said crisply. “You've had these before. I'm not giving you anything new.” A sigh. “Still determined to resist? Well, if you don't take them, I'll simply give you an injection. Wouldn't you prefer to avoid a needle?”

Only when his lungs screamed in protest and his throat began to convulse did he swallow. A second later, he could breathe.

He sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air, but his I'm-going-to-live happiness disintegrated when he realized what he'd swallowed. Those pills always fogged Aden's brain and put the souls into a stupor, two things he loathed. Two things
they
loathed. More than that, he needed to be clear-headed tonight. He needed… The blood-brain barrier was broken almost instantly, and dizziness washed through him.

The fog he'd feared appeared behind his eyes, thickening, spreading, fuzzing his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he managed to croak out, jaw once again working. “So sorry.”

Julian was the first to quiet. Then Caleb, then Elijah, who fought the hardest to remain heard.
You'll need me, Aden. Tonight is…tonight is…

Even Thomas, standing beside Dr. Hennessy, glaring down at Aden, began to waver, shimmer, there but not there, an outline without substance.

“He'll need to visit me tomorrow morning,” Dr.
Hennessy was saying to Dan as he straightened, wiping his hands together in a job well done. “First thing.”

Dan crossed his arms over his massive chest. He was a former pro-footballer, tall, wide, pure intimidation with pale hair and dark eyes. “He has school. If he's well enough, and I think that he will be. He always pulls himself together quickly.”

“He can miss one day.”

“No, actually, he can't. His studies are just as important as his therapy.”

Thank you,
Aden wanted to say, but didn't allow the words to move past his lips. No reason to encourage attention or unwittingly admit he understood what was being said. Dan cared about the boys here. Truly cared. Even about Aden, as his insistence proved.

“I'll bring him to you immediately afterward,” Dan continued. “How about that?”

“I highly recommend you reconsider. This boy doesn't need to be in school, around normal children. I could take over his—”

“Excuse me, Dr. Hennessy,” Dan said tightly. “I may not have a fancy degree, but I know this boy better than you do. He's a good kid with a lot of heart, and he's doing well here. He's excelling in school with those so-called normal kids, and he's even made new friends and gained confidence. He's doing better than ever and I will not disrupt that progress.”

“Yes, but he still talks to himself. And today, well, he lost himself inside his mind. I would hardly call that ‘better than ever,' Mr. Reeves. Would you?”

Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets, going all “well, shucks,” on the doctor, a sign Aden recognized as growing annoyance. “We all occasionally regress, as you said, but he's pulling himself together.”

“That's the pills.”

“That's the boy's strength of will.”

Slowly Aden relaxed, rubbed a hand over his face. His vision was slightly blurred, his movements sluggish, but at least his mind was quiet. Still. Poor souls.

The two men continued their conversation a while longer, until finally it was decided that Aden would attend class, then immediately be driven to Dr. Hennessy's office for a session.

Great. Those sessions were nothing but a pain in the ass. The
good
doctor always wanted to touch him. Nothing overt, and nothing too creepy, just a hand-holding, skin-to-skin thing. That, on top of the fact that he had to be in therapy at all, aggravated the piss right out of him.

At last the men left, and Aden gingerly sat up. His stomach burned as if a fire had been set there, and that burn rose into his throat, his brain. More fog, more dizziness. He closed his eyes. In the distance, a wolf howled.

So he hadn't imagined the howling. Riley must be nearby.

“S-sorry, man,” he heard Shannon say.

His lids cracked open, and he saw that Shannon was beside the bed and crouched in front of him, his features tight with concern.

“D-didn't want to get Dan, but didn't k-know what else to do. You were really o-out of it. Never seen you l-like that.”

“Don't worry about it.” He blinked, doing his best to focus. “What time is it?”

“About ten-thirty.”

That late? Wow. Riley really would be here any minute. How was Aden going to sneak out now? Dan would check up on him throughout the night, Aden knew that he would. Apparently, that's what people who cared about you did. Checked on you. It was new and wonderful and yet, hell on the social life.

Something clanked against the window, and both Aden and Shannon turned. The glass rose, then Riley was there, smoothly climbing through. He was dressed in a black suit, was cleanly shaven and had his hair arranged in perfect spikes. In his arms, he clutched what looked to be a garment bag.

“Shannon,” he acknowledged with a stiff nod.

Shannon, who was used to Aden's nightly visitors, nodded in return. “Riley.”

“I've gotta borrow our boy for a little while.”