Vengeance Bound Page 6

I have to be stronger. It’s time to stop dragging this out.

  Poor Hank begins to sob and call for help, but he knows as well as we do that there will be no rescue, no witnesses. He picked this spot for just that reason.

  His whimpering is getting old, so I compel Hank to look into my eyes. He is powerless to resist my will. The Furies crowd close.

  In Hank’s wild, bloodshot eyes Tisiphone reads the truth of his crimes, and I do as well through our shared vision. Revulsion turns my stomach, and part of me, the part that’s still a little bit human, shrinks away from the violence. But I have to know that he is guilty of the crimes They say he is. I will not kill an innocent, which is more than I can say for Hank Meacham. Megaera’s sight reveals how much he’s hurt people. It’s more than I can stomach.

  “Guilty,” I say, my voice flat.

  “Guilty,” the serpent whispers.

  “Guilty,” Tisiphone announces in her husky voice, her verdict dissolving into a manic giggle. I release Hank, and he falls back onto the ground. He sobs loudly. His terror is almost palpable. My three-way vision melts into one, and I alone stand over Hank. I can still sense Them with me, but tonight this last part is my responsibility alone. They have had Their fill of fear this week, and are finally satisfied. I feel a sense of relief, despite the work I still have to do.

  I look down at him, and he cries harder. “Please,” he moans, his hands covering his face. “Please, just let me go.”

  “How many of your victims begged you for mercy?” I ask. My voice is hard, and realization slowly dawns in Hank’s eyes. He scrabbles backward across the parking lot. The sight fills me with a fierce joy, and I smile. “Justice has no room for mercy, Hank Meacham.”

  I hold my palm out. Chains hang from my arms, links of metal that surge forward, swirling into my palm. A gleaming silver sword materializes. It shines with an inner light, and the unnatural flash makes Hank sit up. He tries to run away, scampers across the gravel parking lot on his hands and knees, but I plunge the sword through his back. I know the exact moment when it pierces his heart. A shudder passes through me, and my entire being tingles.

  It’s better than anything else I’ve ever felt. Joy, love, elation, righteousness, and release all crash through me in a discordant symphony. It’s only a fraction of what They feel, but it’s enough. There wasn’t time to savor it last night, but tonight there is. For a second I let the finality of Hank’s death wash over me, and I revel in a job well done.

  I can understand why They crave justice so much. There’s an addictive quality to the feeling of vengeance. It’s more than the pleasure of knowing that a monster like Meacham will never kill again. It’s the satisfaction of a job well done coupled with the adrenaline high of jumping off a cliff. I’m more alive when I hand down justice than at any other time in my life.

  I would feel worse about handing down Their justice, but I know my way is more humane than Their method. If They could, They would burn away his soul, leaving nothing for the afterlife. I just stop the hearts of the guilty, ending their lives quickly and quietly. I’m not religious, but I like to think there is some kind of final judgment for the men we kill. The fate of their souls is left to the deity who cares. It’s not Their way, but we have an agreement. A clean death, and They get to choose the criminals and have my full cooperation. It’s better than how things are when They have full rein.

  They sigh in relief as They return to Their space in my subconscious. We have completed our justice.

  Yet I am the only one still standing in the parking lot.

  I slowly withdraw the blade, and Hank falls onto his face. There is no blood or torn clothing, no sign at all of what I have just done. When the newspaper reports his death, if they even bother to report on it, they’ll say he died of a massive heart attack. Natural causes. I release my grip on the sword. It and the chains wrapped around my arms dissolve into nothingness.

  I bend down and pull Hank’s wallet from his back pocket before I step over his body and head to his truck. There is $680 in his wallet. Today must have been payday. I stick the money into the hip pocket of my jeans before wiping my prints off the battered leather, just to be sure. I toss the wallet onto the floor of the passenger side. Rent will be due soon.

  Besides, it’s not like Hank needs it where he’s going.

  The keys are in the ignition of the truck, and the engine is still running. I drive back to my car in a fog of lazy satisfaction and park a little ways down the road from Loose Lucy’s so no one asks me why I have Hank’s truck.

  I’m taking a risk, leaving Hank’s truck so far from where he died. But it’s cold and snowy, and I’m feeling lazy after last night’s trek through the snowstorm. The smart thing would’ve been to leave the truck near the ATV repair shop. But chances are that the cops will just think that Hank was robbed after picking up a hitchhiker, the heart attack the result of his panic. The snow is still blowing around. It should hide my footsteps well enough.

  I run to my car. The afterglow wears off during the short sprint. I shake uncontrollably by the time I start up my battered Toyota, the euphoria of justice fading into bone-deep fatigue. The drive home blurs into stops, turns, and starts. By the time I crawl into bed, I’m exhausted and ready for sleep.

  Even though I’m tired, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time. I will my brain to still, to stop thinking about Hank Meacham and the terror in his eyes. It’s done. There’s no taking it back now.

  My breathing finally slows, and as I drift off, my thoughts aren’t on what has just happened. Instead I think about going to school in a few hours, and seeing Niko. His blue eyes and mussed hair fill my mind’s eye. Deep in my chest there’s a tingle of excitement, and my heartbeat picks up just a little. He makes me look forward to school.

  I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.

  SLUMBER’S END

  The final bell rings. It feels like the governor calling with a stay of execution. Thanks to the rotating schedule, my last class of the day is English, and the teacher has droned on about the tragedy of King Lear for the past hour. It’s beyond boring. My tastes run more to Hamlet.

  I dump my books into my backpack and stand up to leave. I want to run out of the classroom, pushing people aside until the doorway is clear. It has been a few days since I handed down Hank Meacham’s sentence, and I still feel stable, but I hate waiting for the herd of exiting students to thin. Too bad the Cory everyone knows here—the one who’s fitting in surprisingly well—would never shove, so I smile and politely wait for people to file by until I can squeeze out the door.

  “Cory. Hey, Cory!” Reluctantly I stop and turn around. Adam hurries down the hallway, not exactly a run but definitely faster than could be considered cool. I give him a smile.

  “Hey there, hon. What’s up?”

  His cheeks pinken at the casual endearment, and he clears his throat. “Uh, nothing. Where’re you headed?”

  I roll my eyes. “Home. My parents are being totally crazy about unpacking. My mom said it’s slovenly to live out of boxes, so it’s only school and home until everything’s moved in.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily. As far as the school knows, I live with my mom and her boyfriend. It’s easy to pay someone to register you for school, especially if they’re so drunk that they don’t remember you a week later.

  I head toward my locker, thinking that’s the end of the conversation, but Adam trots along beside me. “Well, you can at least come with us to grab some pizza, right? It’s right down the road. You could just tell them you had to stay after school or something. It would really make Mindi happy.” I’ve been at West County High for less than a week. Why would she care that much?

  I’m about to make another excuse, when Niko heads down the hall toward us. He walks with Mindi, and she’s chattering on about something, her hands gesturing wildly. Niko looks like he’s mentally counting sheep, his expression detached. They see me looking at them, and Mindi waves in excitement. Niko’s gaze is
coolly assessing, a degree away from arctic.

  I elbow Adam as they approach. “What’s the deal with Mindi and Niko? They dating?”

  Adam’s jaw goes slack at my direct question, and I wonder if I’ve broken some unspoken rule. Just when I think he won’t answer the question, he shrugs. “No, they’re just friends. They’ve known each other since they were little.” He studies his shoes, and refuses to meet my gaze, and I know I stepped over some boundary. I squeeze his arm in apology, and he rewards me with a smile.

  “Sorry if I’m being too nosy. Don’t want to look stupid, you know?”

  He nods, and I know we’re good again. Crisis averted.

  Mindi bounces up. “Cory! Tell me you’re coming with us.”

  Adam nods, his brown curls shaking. He looks a little panicked, his eyes flicking from me to Mindi and back. He glances at her like he’s afraid she might start foaming at the mouth. “Come on. You don’t want to miss this,” Adam says.

  I shrug and direct my question to Niko, who has yet to say a word. “It’s pizza. What’s the big deal?”

  Amber, the bleached blonde who basically spends all of her time pointedly ignoring me, walks up. “The big deal is that it’s the best pizza in town. They’re only open Thursday through Sunday. So every Thursday we go there right after school to eat.” She looks at Mindi in disgust before turning back to me. “But I guess you wouldn’t know that, would you, Dixie?”

  Everyone shifts from foot to foot, waiting for my response. The venom is completely unexpected, since she has spent the last few days pretending I don’t even exist. A thirst for violence tears through my earlier tranquility, and I want to rip off Amber’s arm and stuff it down her throat. But that’s all me, not Them, and I push the urge aside.

  Instead I smile and shrug, like the nickname doesn’t bother me. “Sounds like fun, but I really shouldn’t. All this cold weather makes me want to eat all the time. You saw that chocolate cake the other day, right? I don’t want to get fat.” I look at Amber as I say it. I’m going for a shared joke, but she flushes scarlet, and I realize Amber took it as an insult instead of a friendly overture.

  Before I can stammer out an apology, Mindi giggles nervously. “Cory, you’re nowhere near fat,” she exclaims, clearly trying to diffuse the suddenly frosty situation. “You can at least have a slice. Come on. It’ll be my treat.” She sounds a little desperate, like if I don’t go, she’ll burst into tears. Adam shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away, while Amber’s nostrils flare and her jaw tightens. Niko’s expression is pained, but he carefully schools his face into a neutral expression when he catches me looking at him.

  What is going on here?

  I smile and shrug, unsure. I want to go, despite all of the weirdness. I’ve always loved hanging out with friends. The group I hung out with in Charlotte was the best. They were silly, always going out to do the stupidest things. We even went roller-skating once. It was a lot of fun.

  Now I can’t even remember their names.

  We have the guilty to destroy.

  I rub my forehead at Their interruption. I’ve been doing well the last couple of days, no commentary from the peanut gallery. I can’t believe They’re back already. I was actually starting to enjoy the silence.

  Niko watches me, as though he can hear my mental argument. His open appraisal reminds me of Dr. Goodhart, and a small spike of fear shoots through me. I shush Them. “Okay, sure.”

  Tom and Jocelyn walk up, holding hands. They date “off and on,” and according to Mindi they’re currently in one of their “on” phases. I like Tom. He’s one of the few guys They’re quiet around, so I figure he’s really as nice as he seems.

  After a quick conversation and another set of concerned looks in Mindi’s direction, Tom and Jocelyn decide to come with us as well.

  We walk out of the school and figure out rides. Like me, Niko and Jocelyn have their own cars. Mindi quickly volunteers to ride with Niko, and Tom says he’ll ride with Jocelyn.

  “I’ll ride with you, Cory,” Adam volunteers. “You know, so you don’t get lonely.” He gives me one of his puppy smiles, and all I want to do is pat him on the head.

  Amber snorts. “It’s less than a mile. Like she’s really going to get lonely in that distance.”

  I grin at Adam as his ears redden. “I might get lost, though. I have a terrible sense of direction. It’s a good thing I’m great at U-turns. Otherwise I’d be in Antarctica by now.”

  Adam laughs even though the joke’s lame. Amber rolls her eyes. “Antarctica? I wish,” she mutters, and I watch her follow Niko and Mindi to Niko’s Jeep.

  I’m not entirely in love with her attitude, and sooner or later I’ll do something about it. But not today. Today I just want to have fun.

  Adam and I climb into my car and head over to the pizza shop. He gives me directions, even though it’s just a right turn out of the school parking lot and down the road. When we arrive, cars choke the unlined gravel parking lot. I find a small space between two trucks and pull in. There is barely enough room to open our doors, and it’s the only space left. Apparently West County High takes pizza very seriously.

  Inside, Niko, Mindi, Jocelyn, Tom, and Amber are already at a table, but there’s only one extra chair. For a second I think Amber planned it that way, but then I see that there isn’t an empty table in the entire place. They were probably lucky to grab the table they did.

  Adam looks at the single chair forlornly. I put a comforting hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll go find a chair. Go ahead and sit down.” He opens his mouth to protest and then closes it. When I turn toward the back of the restaurant, I understand why. The only empty chairs are at a table occupied by several large and intimidating guys. I walk over, adding a little extra swing to my hips. I place my hand on the back of an empty chair and clear my throat. “Excuse me. Can I borrow this?”

  All conversation at the table stops, and five sets of eyes turn to me. The nearest guy looks me up and down before shooting me a grin. He’s cute, in an arrogant-jock sort of way. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. There’s something about him I don’t like, though. “Why don’t you just ditch the losers and sit down with us? I’m sure we could entertain you.” He says the last part in a tone of voice that earns him a chorus of knowing chuckles and high fives.

  Ah, that’s what it is. He’s setting off my internal douche bag alarm.

  My face heats, but I manage to keep the smile frozen on my face. Like a dork I stick out my hand to shake. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Corinne Graff.”

  He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me forward, turning me around at the last second so that I’m sitting on his lap. Every muscle in my body stiffens. Dear God, he’s touching me.

  “Dylan. Dylan Larchmont,” he whispers into my ear. I try to get away, and his hands snake around my waist. The additional contact sets off more alarms in my head. Slowly They rouse with whispers of what he would like to do to me, and the image makes bile burn the back of my throat. They urge me to cause him pain. I swallow thickly. If I don’t maintain control on Them, this fun little outing could turn into a massacre of XY chromosomes.

  Dylan laughs, oblivious to my dark thoughts. “See, you don’t need to sit with those losers. I have a seat for you right here.” He pats my thigh reassuringly.

  I try to stand again, but he holds on tight. Dylan is pissing me off. His hands skim places that are definitely off-limits. All I can think of is escape, and I fight to stay calm so They don’t fully wake. Panic steals my breath, and I have to forcibly remind myself that I’m not in any real danger. He’s just a bully, not a criminal. I squirm around until I can stare into in his muddy brown eyes. “Let me go,” I mutter.

  He laughs. “Make me.” His friends whoop, and a couple offer helpful suggestions as to what Dylan should do with me. I swallow dryly and ignore them. I’m no match for Dylan’s strength, but I know who is. I give in to Their sleepy murmurs and relax my hold on Them a little.

>   The noise of the restaurant fades away as I stare into Dylan’s eyes. His gaze is locked onto mine, and it takes only a couple of seconds before I can feel the shift in his behavior. His smirk fades. A couple of heartbeats more and he jerks in surprise, then squirms in his seat. His breathing quickens and he tenses like a rabbit sensing danger, eyes widening. They can sense his fear, and now They are anxious for release, hungry for a taste of pain. My head pounds and I’m certain he can see Them swirling around in the depths of my eyes. A slight smile curves my lips. There is nothing friendly about it.

  “Let. Me. Go.” The sound is something more than human.

  Dylan releases me so suddenly that I fall backward off his lap. I catch myself and stand, straightening my sweater over my jeans. He’s staring at me now like I might sprout another head.

  I take a deep breath and force Them back down into the dark part of my consciousness. They aren’t happy about being denied Their fun, and I promise to make it up to Them. Dylan’s friends groan when I grab the plastic chair. I heft it while shooting the table a dazzling smile. “Thank you, boys.” There are a couple of catcalls and lewd suggestions, but Dylan says nothing as I take the chair back to my table. His gaze burns a hole into my back.

  I set the chair down next to Adam’s and sit down. I still shake a little, so I sit on my hands and lean forward, forcing a grin. Mindi, Jocelyn, Tom, and Adam stare at me in wide-eyed shock, while Amber’s lips twist with disgust. The only person I can’t read is Niko. His expression is, as usual, indecipherable.

  Tom reaches across the table to give me a fist bump. “All right! I can’t believe you entered the den of the jock and lived to tell about it.”

  Adam shakes his head. “Me either.” He looks miserable, as though he’s just now realizing how weak his hesitation made him look.

  I shrug. “No worries. I just had to ask him nicely.”

  Amber snorts. “Yeah, we saw how nicely you asked him.” The glare she sends in my direction makes me push Them further into the back of my mind. They aren’t happy, and They do the mental equivalent of snarling and snapping at being denied some fun. They don’t even care that she’s not male. They just don’t like her. I shut Them in the back of my mind, throwing a mental dead bolt on the door that keeps them from ruling me completely. I’m still the one in control.