Toxic Heart (21 page)

“But it worked,” I say. “Thank you.”

A trickle of water runs down Turk’s cheek, resting at the tip of his chin before it drops to the floor. “A lot of things could have gone wrong,” he says. “I planted it before you arrived. I had to guess which way you’d exit, that you’d be able to swim to it and find it. If you hadn’t, then—”

“I did, though,” I say. “I escaped.”

“Barely,” he says.

“How did
you
get out of there?” I ask.

Turk waggles one of his eyebrows. “No mud-covered soldiers are gonna do me in.”

I give him a tight-lipped smile. “You haven’t told Hunter about the ambush yet, have you?” I ask.

“No,” Turk says. “Not yet. Why?”

I step toward him. “You can’t say anything.”

A sour expression crosses Turk’s face. “You were practically kidnapped, Aria,” he says.
“Again.”
He takes a deep breath. “Do you think I’m always going to be there to save you? Kyle lied to you about this meeting—and I kept it from Hunter because I trusted you.” He lowers his voice. “I was supposed to keep an eye on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today,” Turk says. “Hunter didn’t bring me with him this morning because he wanted me to look out for you. I went against his wishes, disobeyed him and basically lied to him, and then
this
happened. If he knew you met up with Kyle …” Turk trails off, casting his gaze out one of the windows.

I can tell he doesn’t like being dishonest with Hunter. Neither do I, of course, but
Hunter
has been lying to
me
. Now he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. Surely Turk sees that. “I’m not a little girl,” I say. “I don’t need to be looked after like some kind of invalid.”

“If I hadn’t been there today, you would have been screwed,” Turk says. “Just admit you don’t know what you’re doing all the time. You want to believe the best of people, and I get that—but your brother is an ass. I have to tell Hunter that talking to Kyle isn’t safe,” he continues. “That he can’t be trusted.”

No
, I think. This can’t happen. “If you tell him,” I say, taking a step closer, “then Hunter will never agree to the peace summit. Convincing him to compromise with the Aeries is the only way to get this city back on track.”

Turk looks away. His skin smells like apple-scented soap. I pick up his towel from the floor and fold it, hanging it over a chair.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says.

“Look,” I say, ignoring his comment. “There are other people—from other cities—waiting to overthrow Manhattan.”

Turk scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nobody except
us
wants the mystics to win,” I say. “Because if they do, mystics in other cities are going to revolt. If it looks like that’s actually about to happen, somebody somewhere is going to wage war against our city. If we’re too busy fighting internally to defend ourselves against foreign enemies, we’ll lose. ‘United we
stand, divided we fall,’ ” I quote. “I’m not sure who actually said that first, but … it makes sense.”

Turk frowns. “Does it?

“Unless we figure this out,” I say, “we could lose New York completely. Who’s to say things won’t be worse then?” I take another step; I’m close enough to touch him now. “Keep this secret from Hunter so that he’ll go to the peace summit.
Please
.”

Turk clenches his jaw. “Fine. I don’t like this, though, Aria.”

“Thank you!” I let the bag with Davida’s reliquary drop to the floor and wrap my arms around his waist. He tenses, ensuring that his energy doesn’t hurt me. My skin begins to tingle and feel warm.

“I care about you so much,” Turk whispers into my ear. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know,” I say. Aside from Ryah, Turk has been the only one who has really looked out for me since I’ve returned to Manhattan. “I care about you, too.”

“Do you?” he asks. An electric buzz washes over me and my skin heats up even more. “Or do you just care about what I can do for you—how I can help you?”

I pull away from Turk. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not your servant, Aria,” he says in a husky voice. “I don’t have to do everything you ask me to.”

“I never said you were … I don’t think …”

“Never mind,” Turk says. He presses his hand to his forehead like he has a headache. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” I sit on the edge of his bed. Have I been treating Turk like a servant? I thought we were friends, that he was helping me because he wanted to. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been selfish.”

“I don’t,” he says. “I’m just … tense. Seriously, let’s talk about something else.” His voice softens, and he peers at me with his light green eyes. “Anything on your mind, Aria Rose?”

“Well,” I say. “Yes. There is one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Remember what I told you about that old woman Frieda from the compound? How she mentioned Davida’s heart?”

Turk nods and sits down next to me.

“I think maybe I should try to find it—the heart, I mean.”

No answer from Turk, but he turns so his face is inches from mine. Our noses are practically touching. He tilts his head and leans forward. He’s going to kiss me.

Just then, Hunter’s face flashes before my eyes: a memory from a few weeks ago, in my bedroom at my parent’s apartment. I had just swallowed the capture locket and recovered all my memories of how I’d met Hunter. Hunter held me in his arms and whispered,
You’ve come back to me
.

“Stop,” I say, pushing Turk away. “We can’t do this.”

He looks deeply into my eyes. He’s about to say something when I hear a sound from the doorway.

“Ahem,” Shannon says, staring at us with her arms crossed. She’s dressed in black training gear, her fiery red hair pulled back in a ponytail.

How much did she see?

“Yes?” Turk says, getting up from the bed and wiping his palms on his jeans.

“I just got back,” Shannon says sharply. “Aria, training starts in five.” Then she swivels and marches away.

The two-hour session with Shannon feels more like two days.

The basement training room is wide enough that you can practice without having to really interact with anyone if you don’t want to. The back half of the room is partitioned off as a place for the mystics to hone their energies. The other half—where I’m standing—is covered with mats, and various targets are pinned to the walls. Some show the outline of a person in black, while others look like archery targets, with different-colored circles and a white bull’s-eye in the center.

Shannon has me throw ninja stars at targets, and while my aim is all right, I can’t seem to hit any of the bull’s-eyes. I keep wondering how much she saw upstairs with Turk. Nothing happened, but does she know that?

I throw a star that wedges itself into the wall, between two posters. “Aria!” Shannon hollers. “What’s wrong with you?”

Did
nothing happen? I ask myself. Turk tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. But he tried. And that’s not exactly nothing.

“I’m fine,” I say. “The grocery store attack—was everyone okay?”

Shannon shakes her head. “No, Aria. Everyone wasn’t okay.”

“How many people died?” I ask.

“Does it matter?” she replies. “Concentrate on what you’re doing right now.”

“I just wanted to know—”

“You don’t get to know everything!” Shannon yells furiously. Her forehead tenses and her eyes redden. “Aria, just, will you throw the star again?” Her voice is wobbly, and for a moment I worry she
might cry. I’ve never seen Shannon show any emotion other than anger.

I grip one of the ninja stars and, without thinking, hurl it toward an archery target. One of the sharp points hits dead center.

Bull’s-eye.

Standing a few feet behind me, Shannon shuffles her feet. “Five,” she says suddenly.

“What?”

“Five people died in the attack. Two children.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well … thank you for telling me.”

She clears her throat. “You’re welcome.” Then she turns around and heads upstairs.

After a shower, I head to the dining room. I’m not hungry, though; all I can think about is my meeting with Lyrica, her instructions that if I want to honor Davida’s memory, I need to find her heart and place it in the reliquary.

Of course I
want
to honor Davida. To repay her for what she did for me and Hunter, yes, but also for what she did my entire life: took care of me, dressed me, nursed me when I was sick.

Landon and Jarek have returned, but they’re in a dark mood. It turns out the information they were leaked about the Foster army was false, so they came back empty-handed.

“Do you really think the peace summit might work?” Ryah says over a meal of boiled chicken and rice. “It’s happening so soon—on Thursday. That’s only two days away! Imagine if they worked things out and the war ended?”

“How do you know about the summit?” I ask.

Ryah shrugs. “Is it a secret? I heard some of the guys talking about it in the library.”

Shannon is silent the entire meal, but I can see her shooting me the occasional glance.

“
I
don’t know anything about it,” Landon says, turning and staring up at Jarek. “Do you?”

Jarek shakes his head. “Nope. I was with you all day.”

“Hunter mentioned it to me,” Shannon says, “and to some of his inner circle this morning. He’s meeting with Aria’s brother and Thomas Foster. At noon, on the top deck of the Empire State Building.”

“Huh.” Landon takes a gulp of water. “Well, I’m not exactly optimistic. Nobody’s going to work anything out. Not without a fight.”

“Then it’s a fight we’ll give ’em,” says Turk. “Right?”

Suddenly, a memory flashes in my head: my mother’s voice, yelling through the intercom in my bedroom.
“Aria! Now! We’re going to be late!”

“Coming!” I reply into the speaker. I’m sixteen. I turn to Davida and roll my eyes. “I don’t want to go. I’d rather stay here with you. We could eat chocolates and watch an old movie. Something with Charlie Chaplin?”

She smiles at me with her hazel eyes, her dark hair pulled back into an impeccable bun. “Your mother would never let me eat chocolates in your room while she was here. Besides, there are far worse things than attending the Governor’s Ball.”

She motions to the gown I’m wearing: a soft yellow vintage Valentino from the sixties, sleeveless, with one white strap that runs over my right shoulder
.

“I know,” I say
.

“Now stand still.” I feel the soft touch of Davida’s gloved hands as she does the clasp on the back of the gown. “Turn around.”

I spin my bare heels on the carpeted floor
.

“You look like a princess.”

“No, I don’t.”

Davida nods. “You do, Aria. Are you ready?”

“Ugh.” I plop down on the edge of my bed. “All those boring people. Boring conversations.”

“Fine,” Davida says in a light voice. “Don’t go. What’ll you tell your mother? You know she’ll put up a good fight. So will your father—these things are important to them, Aria.”

I shoot up from the bed and curl my hands into fists, jokingly. “If my parents want a fight, then it’s a fight we’ll give ’em! Right? We’ll—”

“Aria?”

I shake myself from the memory. I’m back at the table with Turk, Shannon, and the others. “Hmm?”

“Whoa,” Landon says. His bushy eyebrows are raised questioningly, his brown eyes wide and staring right at me. “You were totally just somewhere else.”

“No, I was listening,” I say, though I’m sure my face gives me away. I must look spooked.

Landon sits back, rolling up his sleeves slightly. “Oh? Then what’d I just say?”

I fumble for a response, but he holds up his hand. “Can’t play a playah, Aria Rose. Can’t play a playah.”

“What does that even mean?”

Landon wags a tawny finger at me. “You’ll figure it out. Jarek, was Aria listening to me?”

“Hmm?” Jarek says, looking up from his plate. He hasn’t touched his food, and I wonder what’s on his mind. “Sure,” he says. “If you say so, Landon.”

“Jeez,” Landon says, looking back and forth between Jarek and me. “Pay attention to me! What is with you people?”

Ryah starts to laugh. “Not everything is about
you
, Landon.”

He scratches his smooth chin, considering this. Then he sticks out his tongue. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.”

Everyone laughs, and for a second, I relax. It feels nice.

After dinner, I call Hunter’s TouchMe, but there’s no answer. “Call me,” I say, leaving a voice mail. “I miss you.” He didn’t return to the hideout with Shannon, and no one seems to know where he is. Breakfast in bed this morning feels so far away, like a memory played in black-and-white.

We all go to bed early, hoping to get a good night’s sleep. It’s only once I’m sure Ryah and Shannon have fallen asleep that I sneak out, into the Depths.

I can’t believe I almost let Turk kiss me
, I think as I hand a gondolier a few coins and step onto a dark street. We’re in an area of the Depths on the Lower West Side, near where Davida was shot.