Vengeance Bound (11 page)

“He’s not. I’m just surprised. From the way he talks, this doesn’t seem like his scene.”

Tina rolls her eyes. “He’s a douche. But West County is so small that we all end up at the same parties. Hell, half of the people here graduated last year. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not much to do around here.”

Mindi cranes her neck and searches the room, an odd little half smile on her face. “Where’s Niko?”

Good question.

Tina gives Mindi a look before shrugging. “He said he might be by later. You know how he likes to hang around outside, anyway. He’s not real big on parties. Unless you like freezing your ass off, you probably won’t even see him.” Tina looks long and hard at Mindi. An unspoken dialogue passes between them. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mindi beams and nods. “Of course. We’re just going to hang out for a while.”

Tina gives Mindi one more inscrutable look before moving away to talk to someone else in the crowd. I glance at Mindi. She looks anxious, her eyes darting around the crowd as though she doesn’t believe Tina. I turn a questioning look toward Adam, but he is very deliberately not making eye contact. He grabs my hand and pulls me along, and I give up trying to read the subtext of what just happened.

It’s pretty obvious that Dylan was talking about Mindi earlier today with his “mental patient” comment. Did her problems stem from Niko? I’m suddenly imagining a total stalker situation, with Mindi hiding in the bushes of Niko’s house as she draws hearts around his name in a journal.

I push the image away. Mindi might be delicate, but she’s not crazy. She’s just a normal girl.

Mindi, Adam, and I move deeper into the house. Most of the people at the party are girls. They eye me with a kind of predatory curiosity, like they’re wondering which of the few guys present I’m going to try to take. I don’t want any of them. What I want is to lose the guy with a death grip on my hand.

My luck with guys today is nonexistent.

Mindi takes me on a tour of Tina’s house. As she’s pointing out the bathroom, I smile and tilt my head to the side. “You really know your way around here.” Evidently she’s been here before, but I want to know in what context and how it may or may not connect to her stint in a mental facility. It bugs me that there’s apparently some secret everyone knows but me. It makes me feel like a kid again, but not in a good way.

Mindi flushes a little and nods. “Tina is Niko’s cousin.” At my blank expression she elaborates. “Niko and I have been best friends since we were little. Our parents were always really close.” Her tone clearly states that she would like more, but she doesn’t elaborate.

I want her to keep talking, and the silence hangs, heavy and awkward, until I clear my throat. “Wow, so you’re almost like family.”

Mindi’s hands flutter around her head, and she nervously adjusts her ponytail. “Oh, no, um, not exactly.” Brotherly love is not what she’s looking for. “But Niko’s really been there for me through some tough times, you know?” There’s something she’s leaving out, and I want to pry.

Unfortunately, I’m too polite to ask the questions on the tip of my tongue.

I nod. “It’s important to have friends by your side.” I drop the subject, and follow Mindi down the hall.

She leads us into the basement, where a bunch of people are playing a video game. As she greets a group of guys, Adam squeezes my hand and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Uh, thanks?” I’m not sure what he means by that, but he seems disappointed by my answer. He lets go of my hand, and I sigh in relief, wiping the sweat off on my jeans. Adam takes the place of a guy playing fake drums. I watch him play for a few minutes before I decide that I’m bored.

Mindi tugs on my sleeve. “Let’s go get a drink.” I follow her back up the stairs and into the kitchen. Everyone in the house seems to be there, since a keg now sits in a giant red plastic bucket of ice between the stove and the fridge. People are attacking the thing like a pride of lions who’ve just taken down a wildebeest. I stand slightly outside the doorway while Mindi pushes her way in. People ignore her as she wedges through, pushing a couple of girls to the side. She is determined to get us beer. I couldn’t care less.

The only thing I want to know is where I can find Niko. After the scene at the library, I have to see him. It’s like itching a bug bite. The more you know you should ignore it, the harder it is to think about anything else.

“Do you think she’ll make a scene like last time?” a horse-faced girl next to me whispers to an equally unfortunate girl whose hair looks like it lost a fight with a weed whacker. Ugly Hair Girl shrugs, and leans down to stage-whisper back to her friend.

“I heard she tried to commit suicide last time, you know, because her mom was killed and all.”

Horse Face scrunches up her nose. “Really? I thought it was because she saw Niko kissing that Kristen girl. Either way, I kind of hope she loses it. This party is pretty lame so far.”

I give the two girls a bitchy look, and they wisely decide to disappear into the crowd. I gnaw on my bottom lip and watch Mindi make her way toward the keg. People give her dirty looks as she pushes through, but no one stops her progress. She ignores them all. She’s tougher than she seems.

I think about the conversation I just overheard. I hate that the answers I was looking for came from a couple of gossiping girls. If Mindi’s the mental patient Dylan was talking about, then those two girls were telling the truth. At some point Mindi tried to take her own life.

For some reason that I don’t understand, sadness weighs me down at the realization. Mindi is such a sweet person, it doesn’t seem fair that she would endure something terrible enough to drive her to such a desperate decision.

Mindi fills two red plastic cups with beer and makes her way back. She hands one to me with a wan smile. “People here are complete asshats.”

I shrug. “People are asshats everywhere.” Mindi drains her cup and goes back for more. I pour most of mine into a potted palm when I’m sure no one is looking. She returns with a full cup, and we walk into the living room. Jocelyn and Tom sit on the couch, and Jocelyn jumps up with a shriek when she sees us. “It’s so great to see you guys!” She hugs us like she hasn’t seen us in years, even though we saw her at school yesterday.

Mindi and Jocelyn and a few other girls in the room start talking about people I don’t know. “Hey, I’m going to go pee,” I tell Mindi, who is entranced by the gossip Jocelyn shares. I wonder how she would feel if she knew a few minutes ago she had been the topic of discussion. Either way, Mindi’s occupied, so I wander off.

My instinct is to escape the crush of bodies that seem to press in on me from every direction. I just need some air. Okay, so I don’t like crowds. It bothers me that Dr. Goodhart was right about that.

I squeeze past a couple making out in the doorway between the living room and the hall, and I frown, thinking of the doctor. As much as I don’t want it to, it bothers me that I haven’t been able to find a single mention of him. He’s not the kind of guy to fall off the map. Dr. Goodhart likes the spotlight too much.

The worst thing is that we almost had him a second time in Charlotte, but They got sloppy. This was about eight months ago. A wife killer named Delbert Fitzhugh was Their target. I was so anxious to satisfy Their cries for blood that I gave him his judgment as soon as I found him, right in the gated community where he lived. When I was done, a security guard was waiting for me in Fitzhugh’s driveway, sporting a smug grin and a gun pointed at my chest. I’d tripped a silent alarm in Fitzhugh’s house, and there was no way to get away without severely injuring the security guard. I didn’t kill the guard, but my description ended up on the evening news, along with a really bad sketch that made my nose look huge.

By the time we went after Dr. Goodhart, he’d fled once again, and the clinic where he’d been working had no forwarding address for him.

This is why I can’t rush. Not again. Because now Goodhart knows I’m after him. And this time, I’m going to end it for good.

I continue retracing the steps from Mindi’s earlier tour. The house is small and hot, despite the frigid weather outside. There isn’t much to see, especially a second time, and from behind one of the closed bedroom doors come the distinct sounds of people having sex. Classy. The sound infuriates me for some reason, especially the overblown moans of the girl. Is that what guys really want? I turn around in disgust and make my way back to the living room. There are more people here than there were a few minutes ago, and I’m suffocating. Looking around for an escape, I spot a sliding glass door. I crack it open just far enough so I can squeak through and flee outside.

I slide the door closed as I look around the wooden deck. Snow covers it in thick drifts, but there are footprints where somebody else walked out this way. I’m not the only one who got tired of all the “fun.”

Awareness prickles along my scalp, and there’s movement out among the trees. Is that Niko? Tina said he doesn’t like parties either, that he spends most of his time outside. For some reason I want to find him. I’m not sure why. He’s off-limits, whether Mindi likes him or not. I don’t want to put another innocent guy in the ICU. Still, the thought of him pulls me in the direction of the footprints.

Tall evergreen bushes hide the view beyond the deck, but there are wooden stairs leading off the back and down into the unfenced yard. The possibility that Niko is out there somewhere drives me toward the stairs. I don’t think about the logic of my actions. I just go. I follow the footprints down and find myself in a snow-covered field. The sight stirs up a few memories better left buried. We had a similar field behind Brighter Day.

I’m not the enemy here, Amelie. I’m here to help.

Dr. Goodhart’s voice comes to me across the years, as clear as it was the first time I heard it. I shake off the memory and continue to walk, the cold air prickling my skin and raising goose bumps under the sleeves of my sweater. The night is quiet, and the darkness relaxing. I learned to love the dark long ago, and now it’s as soothing as a warm bath.

It’s the light you have to fear.

“I knew you’d change your mind.”

I turn around. Dylan wears something between a grin and a leer, his arms folded across his massive chest. If he isn’t on steroids, then he has the best training plan in the world. I should ask him for some tips.

He moves closer, his feet sinking deep into the snow. I notice that the footsteps I followed curved around the house a ways back. In my distraction I must have walked right past them.

I haven’t spoken, and Dylan has none of the wariness I would have expected after our last encounter. He moves closer. “Hello again. You weren’t looking for me, were you?”

“No. I just wanted some fresh air.”

Dylan smirks, and I desperately want to wipe the smile from his face. “Fresh air? Really? I don’t buy it. I saw you looking for me as soon as I walked into the house.”

For a moment I’m confused, and then it dawns on me. He mistook my interest in Niko’s whereabouts as interest in him. Dylan’s breath reeks of alcohol, and he sways a little on his feet. He’s drunk, and I’m pretty sure, after this afternoon, that it’s not safe to be around him. He’s used to getting his way, no matter what.

The Furies begin to stir in the back of my mind, hissing warnings and portents. “Leave me alone,” I mutter. Dylan’s response is laughter. The laugh is what sets me off. I heard a laugh like that, full and self-assured, once before. And then my life ended.

Hi, sweetie. Need a ride?

I turn around and dash away from the house. Dylan curses and follows me. My legs sink into the snow, and make the normally easy strides difficult.

Suddenly I’m a kid again, running for my life, my heart pounding.
Don’t look back. Keep running! He won’t catch me if I keep running.

The memory comes back to me, and the fear that gripped me then settles back into my stomach, cold and familiar. I pump my arms, but slogging through the snow makes me slow. Dylan has the advantage of height, and, just like Hank Meacham a few nights ago, just like Roland Thomas so long ago, he catches me with a laugh.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dylan asks. He spins me around in the snow, and then his hands close around my upper arms, hard enough to bruise. The fear is overwhelming now. It steals my breath and leaves my chest tight. I don’t know what to do. The expression on his face shreds my ability to think clearly, the terror stunting my thought processes. My control is already thin because of his contact earlier today. It’s all too much for me to bear. Before I can second-guess myself, I release my hold on Them.

Anticipation burns through me, and a wild joy follows in its wake. Their excitement is almost scarier than the glint in Dylan’s eyes.

A laugh bubbles up from deep within my chest. Dylan has a split second to look confused before I clutch his forearms and jam my knee up into his crotch. He lets loose a whimper and releases his grip on me. I’m free, but it’s not enough. He has to pay.

All of them have to pay.

Too late I realize that my vision has split into three. I try, but I can’t reclaim my control over Them.

I fight to mentally restrain them, but it’s like trying to catch fish with bare hands. They slip through my barriers, and we kick Dylan in the side, meeting muscle and eliciting a satisfying groan. He tries to get up, and when he is on all fours, we bring an elbow down onto his spine, like a professional wrestler. He groans, and Megaera punches him before we dance away, giving him a chance to get to his feet. Tisiphone jumps up and down in the rapidly melting snow, clapping in delight.

Stay down,
I mentally beg as I struggle for control. It’s a halfhearted plea. I’m enjoying this almost as much as They are.

Dylan gets up, a big dumb bear lumbering back for more punishment. He squints, so he misses the way They grin at him. He’s pissed now. “You stupid bitch. Now I’m gonna kick your ass.”

We laugh, the sound deep and throaty. “Promises, promises,” Tisiphone sings, her voice deeper, huskier than my normal speaking voice. We give Dylan an uppercut, and his head snaps back with the force of the contact. He has yet to throw a single punch. We follow with a jab that shatters his nose and paints the snow crimson. Dylan screams into the silent night. Tisiphone mocks his shriek with one of her own. The sound echoes off the nearby trees, and brings me back to myself.