The Revenger (9 page)

Beach Run

Savvy couldn’t sleep here. Hell, she could hardly breathe. Her second night in her new prison had been no less trying than her first. She could only lie in her bed and try to avoid moving, letting the world sway with all her power. Her day had been spent pacing and looking out at the ocean. As tempting and distracting and energizing as the evil people around her were, Silas Sagan would be her primary focus now, even though he’d gone.

He’d left silence in his wake, but her mind still echoed with her daughter’s screams. She put her fingers to her temples and felt like a traitor as she tried to unhear the horror.
What kind of mother am I?

A failure. The sound was a piece of Sara. Despite the grinding pain, she should be grateful for any memory at all. But now her doubt was greater; what if Sara’s soul wasn’t at peace?

Oh, God.

What if she was…somewhere, trapped in the evil of the man whose aura emitted the sound of her suffering? That would be unthinkable. Savvy had consoled herself with the hope that Kal and Sara were happy and in a better place—somewhere waiting for her. To learn that wasn’t true would be more than she could bear.

Her fingers gripped and ripped the expensive comforter beneath her as next she shifted to worrying about Tobias. What must he be thinking now? She’d up and disappeared almost thirty-six hours ago. He had to be worried, which almost made her laugh because of what she was now, what she could do. Dr.
Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde certainly made sense to her now, and in her months of hunting she’d learned a bit about maintaining some control, making sure she channeled these insane powers as best she could. But being here was more than she bargained for. Being surrounded by so many auras in the mansion left her feeling unskilled and unprepared. She had to fight the violence inside her breath by breath.

Earlier today she’d found the remote and turned on the TV, looking for the news, hoping her face would be plastered on every channel. But after a full circle of the available stations, it had become apparent that she had a very censored offering.

In the midst of looking for distraction on the stupid television that got about three sanitized channels, suddenly she’d felt Sagan again. Like an army of spiders marching up her spine and seeping into her brain, his attention had called to her. She’d looked at the camera that monitored her and found his eyes through the electronics, because they were the windows to his horrible soul.

The worst of the energy had pulsed through her head, but she’d risen to stand right underneath the source. When it ceased, she’d blinked and hurried to the bathroom, the one place she was almost sure didn’t record her activities. There she had wrapped her arms around her waist and bent at the middle. A sob had wracked through her, and she’d blocked the noise with her fist. Panting around her own skin, Savvy had worked to compose herself.

I want to kill something. Somebody. Please God, let me kill.

The battle for control raged within her, and as she’d lifted her head, she’d seen herself reflected in the mirror; the lust for murder that had shone in her eyes was the most light they’d offered in more than a year.

Look what I’ve become.

The mirror used to be a happy place. When Sara was a baby, it was one of the first games she liked to play.

“Who’s the pretty girl in the mirror?” Savvy would ask her chubby-cheeked daughter. When Sara squealed with her baby attempt at conversation, Savvy would lean over and blow raspberries on Sara’s skin.

Oh, the laugh. It was so addicting. They would stay at the mirror until Sara got bored or hungry. Savvy would have stood there forever, needing nothing more than a small room filled with her daughter’s delight.

Savvy had taken a scalding hot shower next, hoping to shock herself out of this trembling need to be so vicious. But as her skin became fiery red with the merciless searing, it had just matched her insides and their torment. There was no relief.

And when she’d stepped out and wrapped herself in a robe, she’d known that Sagan wanted her. The air had told her. Her spine had told her. He’d been back at her camera.

As she’d padded back into the scope of his electric sight, she’d spotted an elegant notebook sitting on the desk in her room and swallowed a smile. As she’d sat with a pen and the book, it had taken everything she didn’t have any more not to lift her head and meet his pounding gaze.

Finally, once she’d finished writing the message that would give her a little peace, she’d let her eyes give in to the demand. She’d almost gasped as Sagan’s attention poured over her. It had been hotter than the shower—and every inch of her skin had felt him.

Yet she’d managed to simply tap her message and wink, maintaining a false veil of calm and control, shielding her desperation to choke the living shit out of him.

Savvy sighed and rolled over. Now that the sun was high enough to officially call it morning, she left the bed and dressed in the bathroom. Finding anything in that closet she was willing to put on was a task. The best she could do was skintight jeans and a tank top. Her only choice of footwear was heels, of course. She chose red ones.

After she’d brushed her hair and stepped back into her room, there was a knock on the door. She guessed the timing was perfect because someone in the house was watching her. Bugs, probably. It wasn’t Sagan this time; she hadn’t wanted to burst into flame.

When it was clear the visitor would not enter without permission, Savvy took a moment to brace herself against ripping the person’s head off when she opened the door. The auras were with her all the time—taunting, needling, irritating. When she turned the doorknob, there was Boston, struggling to seem casual. The red in his aura was like a flag to a bull, and she salivated to beat it out of him.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked and then cringed,

Savvy felt a moment of sympathy despite herself. What could he ask her, really? What could be their small talk? A jailor and his prisoner. He’d brought her three deliveries of super-crappy food yesterday.

“My TV needs more channels.” She looked away from him, trying to calm her itchy limbs, clear her cloudy vision.

There was an awkward silence. Her TV would never have more channels, and they both knew it.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Boston ran a hand through his hair.

Savvy shook her head. The last thing she could dream of doing was stuffing cereal past the large lump in her throat.

The strain of standing still made her sweat. There was more endless quiet. Boston shuffled his sneaker-clad feet. He seemed to be dressed for a run. It had been a million years since Savvy had punished herself with that type of exercise. When she’d played soccer in college, the coach had demanded five miles a day, and she’d stopped the moment she left the team. Yet ragged breaths and tortured muscles seemed really appealing now. Maybe running would help contain her need to go on a violent rampage.

“Were you about to go to the gym?” Savvy didn’t meet his eyes.

“I usually run on the beach in the morning.” Boston picked lint from his shorts.

“I take it you can’t leave me. Are you their first line of defense?” Savvy nodded toward the rest of the house. The red auras called to her like free candy.

Boston massaged his neck. “Um, I guess. Mostly I’m here to make sure nobody hurts you.”

He met her eyes, and the deep blue reflected his disbelief that she needed protection from anyone.

“I’d go on a run with you. I’ve got to do something; my mind is melting here. I can’t even breathe anymore.” Savvy watched, fascinated as the gold in Boston’s aura marbled in front of his red.

He nodded as if he understood perfectly what she was saying, what she needed. “Let’s go.” He took a determined step for the door.

“Dude, if I run in this getup, I’ll bust out of these pants, and the heels will get stuck in the sand. I’ll probably break my leg. But I couldn’t find anything else to wear.” Savvy stepped aside as Boston walked in.

“Well, you’ll have workout clothes. The girls have to stay fit—that’s one of the boss’s rules.” Boston pulled open the drawers in her closet.

A wave of nausea washed over as Savvy considered what the man had said. She would be one of Sagan’s “girls.” Whatever that entailed. The thought of being close to Sagan made her fists curl.

After a moment, Boston found what he was looking for. He tossed her a pair of shorts and a running top. While he rooted around for sneakers, Savvy contemplated her options. Sagan had someone watching Tobias, and until she could figure out how to keep her brother safe, she was a puppet—or worse.

Boston turned with a victorious grin. “Look at that! I found my way around in a chick’s closet.”

His gold was so bright in that moment that Savvy felt her heart swell a bit. If it weren’t for the red threading through here and there, being around Boston would almost be bearable.

He waited outside as she changed. She left her previous outfit in a ball on the floor and walked through the unlocked door to his room once she was ready. Boston had an intensely dorky-looking fanny pack clipped around his waist. He zipped it open to retrieve his cell phone, and she could see he was serious about his job. His gun and a very sharp knife took up the rest of the space in the pack.

He dialed quickly and looked toward the camera mounted on the ceiling. “I need to get out without running into anyone.” He listened and then closed the phone. “Let’s go, Savvy.”

They ran out into the hallway, down a side set of steps, and hit the door like they had just robbed a bank. Soon they were wrapped in the warm beach air.

“Sorry about that. I just figured you didn’t want to see anyone else.” He tucked his phone into his pack and zipped it.

And then the jogging began. At first it was effortless for her supercharged body, like cutting hot butter. But as she moved farther down the beach, farther from the concentration of evil, her breaths came harder. Her muscles seemed to remember she was human and started to feel the strain. Her vision sharpened, and her desire to pound Boston to a pulp even waned.

He slowed to a walk, and she was grateful. After catching her breath, she was able to talk. “So are you, like, transmitting the run?”

He had a glisten of sweat, but he was obviously in better shape than she was. “No. There are no cameras out here. It’s just us.”

“He’s not a good man.” Savvy heard Sara’s screams again in her memory. She didn’t have to clarify to whom she was referring; it could only be Sagan.

“I haven’t met a good man in a long time. Not here.” Boston’s aura now rivaled the reflection of the sun on the water. It seemed he could be honest out here—if she could keep up. “A lot of people living in the house have done horrible things, including myself. But sometimes you don’t have a choice about the sins you commit. Just so you know.”

She got what he was trying to tell her. Paying attention to who had gold mixed with the red in their aura was crucial. She liked it better when she just reacted. But she couldn’t just rage on people if they’d been forced to commit acts they wouldn’t normally choose. She seemed to be some sort of revenger, and if her targets hadn’t earned their retribution, everything would go all wrong. She knew this as solidly as she knew her own name. Savvy bent and picked up a smooth rock. She tried to skip it, and it sunk immediately.

“Wow. Were you angry at the rock or just proving that gravity works?” Boston picked up a similar rock and skipped it four times before it sunk below the surface.

“I’m sorry. Did you steal that fanny pack from your grandmother, or did you buy it new?” Savvy tried another rock; it sunk as well.

Boston’s dimples highlighted his smile. After unsuccessfully trying to teach her to jump her rock across the water, Boston led the way as they began to jog back. She didn’t want to go, as it felt like crawling back into a tomb where she’d previously been buried alive. When the house loomed before them and she felt so very strong again, she decided to ask the question she was afraid of.

“So, I’m supposed to be a whore for him, is that right?” Savvy looked for Boston’s blue eyes.

He refused to meet her gaze. “I don’t know, Savvy. I’ve never seen him like this before—like he is about you.” He glanced around and shook his head. They would soon be under surveillance again.

After he ran her up to her room like she was Elvis escaping rabid fans, he said he would bring her some food. Savvy took another screaming hot shower and tried to avoid the hope that Boston might be on her side. It could all be a mirage. She would have to be very careful.

Collared Like a Dog

After another distracted day at work, Toby stood in Savvy’s kitchen, taking huge gulps of the water from his glass. He hadn’t bothered to refill the filter pitcher in the fridge since Savvy wasn’t around to care about it. Tap was just fine for him. And he didn’t think about food now until he was already hungry, so he just ate crap.

Three weeks. Savvy had been missing for three weeks as of today. He slammed the glass down and ran his hand through his hair. Frustration felt like it had mass and choked him continually. His trips to the police station had been fruitless.

He heard the same excuses all the time: She was a grown woman. Savvy had depression problems and was known for doing irrational things—like trying to take her life. More than once.