Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

Wedderburn straightened, wearing an inscrutable look. “Are there?”

Oh God. If there weren’t … if he could kill anyone he wanted, anyone who wasn’t a catalyst, then I’d put everyone close to me at risk. You didn’t know. But you can fix this. Somehow. It was so hard to keep my teeth from chattering, but I couldn’t show Wedderburn how rattled I felt. I could easily drop down on the floor and cram my head between my knees while I hyperventilated; only the fact that I needed to help my friends prevented me from melting down completely.

“This has been wonderful,” I choked out, “but I have homework. I look forward to our next meeting, sir.”

“As do I, Miss Kramer.” I noted his reversion to formality, now that the lines had been drawn. I suspected Wedderburn knew that I was not—and never would be—his ally.

Kian didn’t speak until we were outside the building. “Are you all right?”

Silently I shook my head and he wrapped me up in his arms. This might be exactly what was supposed to happen, a good cop, bad cop routine, but I leaned on him anyway. I felt like I might never get warm again, even with the late-summer sun shining down on my head. The shivers didn’t abate for a few minutes, despite his hands moving up and down my back. People walked around us with nervous looks, as if my distress might be contagious.

“I don’t understand. He’s supposed to be the good guy, on my side?”

“Good and evil doesn’t apply here,” Kian said softly. “There are only different agendas. I can’t say I’m fighting for right, I’m just trying to survive. And I realize hearing that doesn’t inspire you to trust me more.”

“I doubt you’d tell me that if it wasn’t true. Because it doesn’t cast you in the best light. So at least I know you’re being honest.”

“Text your parents.” He stepped back but left an arm around my shoulder and he guided me to his car.

“And say what?”

“That you’ll be back by dinner.”

Since I was too freaked to head home anyway, I did as he suggested, then hopped in the car. Kian shut the door behind me and I buckled in. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace we can talk.”

Kian drove out of the city; it was early enough for us not to be caught in rush hour traffic. Half an hour later, we ended up driving along the coast, a swath of land remarkable only for the fact that there was nothing particular here, except the rocky shoreline and the pounding of the sea. Kian pulled off to the side and got out of the Mustang. A path led down from the road.

“What’s special about this place?”

“Something in the stone, it’s like … a blind spot. Neither side can spy on us out here.” He tapped his watch with a satisfied look.

“You won’t get in trouble?”

He shrugged. “I barely got out of my burning house the other night, and since I’m not a ‘fascinating asset,’ the company still hasn’t done anything about it. I don’t much care what they do to me at the moment.”

For a few seconds, I wondered if that was just what he thought I wanted to hear. But if this was a blind spot, he had no reason to lie. Maybe this was just his first chance to tell me how trapped and unhappy he was. On the other hand, it might not be a blind spot at all. He could be playing me perfectly—at Wedderburn’s instruction. I almost wouldn’t blame Kian if that was true; his boss was terrifying.

“You should care,” I said quietly. “You’re important.”

He shot me a warm look, one that quickened my heartbeat a little. But his tone rang with sad finality. “Not to them.”

Following his lead, I sat down on the sand, a few feet from the water. The late-afternoon sun warmed my skin, gradually washing away the freezer-death feeling that had sunk into my bones during the interview with Wedderburn.

“So your boss … what is he?”

“I’m not sure,” Kian answered. “Not human anymore, if he ever was. His name has been on the building for a hundred years, and I’ve dug up a few pictures of him, looking exactly that way for at least that long.”

“Creepy. Does he disappear and then come back younger?”

“No. That’s the odd thing. And he never fakes his own death, either.”

I’d read books about vampires doing that, then pretending to be his or her own grandchild, but a life eternally encased in ice? That was new.

Kian went on, “But he doesn’t go out either. It’s all done through intermediaries, and when you have as much money as he does, nobody asks too many questions.”

“I imagine bad things happen to those who poke around in his affairs.”

“You handled yourself well in there,” he said unexpectedly. “Struck the right balance between wariness and respect.”

I frowned, trickling a palmful of sand between my fingers. “I don’t understand why he offered me payback. Do I hate those assholes? Absolutely. I dream about finally knowing what it’s like, how I felt, but—”

“It was a test,” he cut in.

“Of what?”

“Your character. A lazy person accepts all help, even if he doesn’t need it. An evil one would’ve asked Wedderburn to inflict all manner of horrors on his enemies.”

“Oh.” My breath was shaky when I exhaled. “I can’t say I wasn’t tempted. A dark part of me would love to see them all broken.”

Not just humiliated, but destroyed. That part, I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud.

“ After what they did, it’s understandable. But you’d never actually harm them, no matter what fantasies you play with.”

“I wish I didn’t have it in me. But I look at Brittany, who held the camera, and I think, What would it take to break you? Would I have to mess up her face ? ” I couldn’t believe I was saying that, because it was so ugly, and it made me sick, that I could still be this full of hate. I knew for the sake of my own mental health, I had to let it go.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe saying these awful things to Kian would help. He could be my sounding board, and once I vented it all, I could move on.

“Do you want to hurt her?” he asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. Do I want people to laugh at her? Yeah. I want her to know how feels. But I’m not thinking about carving her up or anything.” I picked up a smooth stone and chucked it toward the ocean. There was no way I could look directly at him and ask this question. “Did you see it? The video they made?”

A pained sound tore from him, and his head dropped into his hands. I could see his fingers tearing at his hair, hard enough that it looked painful. “I was there , Edie. My job was to mark your progress, see you skate ever closer to extremis. I could’ve stopped it. I didn’t.”

Jesus. I almost threw up. It was bad enough that he knew , but this—

“Take me home,” I managed to say. “Right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Take. Me. Home.”

Then he grabbed my hand and the world speeded up to rushing insanity, and in a single swirl, we were both in my room. That was the last straw; I stumbled to the wastebasket and barfed up my lunch while Kian held my hair. I wanted to hit him—to hate him—but mostly, I was just sick and ashamed that he’d seen. I mean, I’d known he was watching me, but I didn’t realize how closely. Afterward I curled up in a ball on the floor, too drained to shove him away when he pulled me close.

“I’ve seen so much pain in the last three years, logged it, and done nothing to make it better. I’m so sorry, Edie.”

“If you don’t do your job, what happens?” I asked eventually, head against his chest.

My parents could come in at any time, and I had no explanation ready for who this boy was or why he was holding me on my floor. I didn’t care either; the strangeness of the day had sucked it all out of me.