Brutal Precious (Lovely Vicious #3) (19 page)

I hate them. I hate every single person here and I don’t even know them.

Kieran comes up to me, a coke and rum in hand. His frown is obvious, but I smile and take the coke with the practiced grace of an alcoholic marquise.

“Don’t give me that look, Kir,” I sigh. “Do you know how many professor dudes like him get away with shitty stuff? I mean, he was gonna get was coming to him. I just sped the process up a bit.”

“You put a brick on the gas pedal,” He corrects.

“I put a brick on the gas pedal,” I cheerfully agree and sip coke. “God bless America.”

Kieran waits for a lull in the music before he speaks. “My sister used to pull crazy stunts like you.”

“
Used
to?”

“She’s in a mental hospital, now.”

“Awful place,” I say. “Really sorry. You should bust her out.”

He stares at me, and I shrug.

“Well, if you won’t, I will.”

“You don’t have to save everyone, Isis.”

His words trip me, my thoughts skidding to a halt.

“I’m not saving anyone,” I say carefully. Kieran shakes his head.

“You try to. You try to stop all these injustices, and save people from them. But you never try to save yourself.”

I’m quiet. Kieran slides his hand down to mine, and squeezes.

“What are you waiting for?”

I look down at our joined hands, and whisper.

“Someone else to do it, I guess.”

Kieran leans in and kisses me, tasting like tequila and lime and salt, and for a moment his lips aren’t his, they’re Jack’s, and we aren’t at a sorority house, we’re at Avery’s, and there’s less glitter and heels and experience but just as much booze and swearing, seventeen isn’t so different from eighteen, and this kiss drives away the darkness, makes it scuttle back under the rocks, but then I open my eyes and see Kieran’s green ones and flinch away. I have to tell him. I can’t keep using him like this, but I am, because being with him is better than being alone, and I’m a coward. He looks startled, but before either of us can break the awkward silence, Heather runs up and grabs my arm.

“There you are! I’ve been looking so hard for you! C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

I follow her lead, glancing one last time back at Kieran. She leads me with impressive force up the stairs, and to a room.

“Uh,” I offer eloquently. “What’s in there?”

“Oh no, you just gotta wait in there while I get the stuff,” She hiccups. “But I promise you’ll like it!”

“It’s not drugs, is it? Because frankly, I’m extremely over drugs.”

She buzzes her lips. “Pftt, no! Like I would have drugs. Just go in! I’ll be right back and then I can show you.”

My curiosity wars with my wariness for an entire half-second, and then I push in.

Nameless sits on the bed, smiling.

I back up to the door, but it closes on my butt, clicking with the sure sound of an outside lock. I rattle the knob, desperately pulling at it.

“No,” I whisper. “No no no no
no
. Heather! Heather, let me out!”

No answer, save for a single high-pitched giggle that fades. I slam the door with my fist.

“HEATHER! Let me the fuck OUT!”

“Relax,” Nameless chuckles. “I’m not going to do anything.”

My eyes dart wildly around and I grab a nail file off a girl’s dresser, clutching it like a knife at him. He just laughs harder.

“Oh, you stupid little girl. I forgot how funny you are.”

I tighten my grip and back up as far as I can into the door. I briefly think of turning off the lightswitch to freak him out, but he’s got a lamp switched on by the beside.

“What do you want?” I hiss.

Nameless stares at me, thinking, and finally he claps his hands, applauding me slowly. Each clap is a bullet that pierces the building hysterical tension in my chest.

“I’m congratulating you for taking on such a dangerous person as a nemesis.”

I narrow my eyes. “Jack?”

“Jack,” He confirms. “I’m sure you got my email almost five months ago, with the picture of his hand on that baseball bat. I got it from a video, you know.”

“I know.”

“You do?” He quirks a brow.

“I know you hack. I know you stole that video from the feds.”

He laughs. “Steal? Don’t be stupid. Even I can’t hack into a federal vault. They gave it to me. Well, not me, but some friends of mine. We work together, you see, as freelance digital consultants. The feds contacted us, and gave us the video. They wanted us to enhance the video quality as much as we could, so they could identify exactly what happened.”

I swallow hard. Nameless smiles.

“And we did. But we never gave it back to them. Not yet, anyway. I wanted you to be the first one to see it, in all the enhanced glory.”

“Why?”

“I want you to see exactly who you were dealing with,” Nameless says smoothly. “Jack isn’t a nice guy. It’s a good thing you two aren’t speaking anymore, otherwise, you might’ve gotten hurt.”

A sick, dark fire flares up in my lungs. He hurt me. Not Jack. Nameless smirks at my impotent silence, then throws me a tablet with the play button smack dab in the center. My finger wavers, hesitating.

“Go on.” Nameless urges, smiling even bigger.

After months of sleepless wondering, infuriating hints, and half-truths, I have the whole story beneath my index finger.

I press play.

There’s two seconds of darkness, and then the sound of rustling leaves. The date in the lower corner reads 21:45:01, making it roughly nine at night, and 8/15/2007. I do the math – Jack was 13.

“Take the fucking cap off!” A voice that can only be Avery’s hisses. “God, for being such a huge nerd you’re kind of an idiot.”

There’s a muffled grumble I recognize instantly as Wren, a younger Wren with a higher voice but definitely Wren. The camera cap comes off, unveiling a leafy ground and tall trees that are so familiar. Avery, a young Avery with no curves yet, wears a tube top and a white skort and jelly sandals, looking imperious and bratty as ever. She grabs the camera and huffs.

“You hold it like this,” She points it at Wren. He’s so skinny and short, his glasses practically swallowing up his entire terrified, innocent face. His cheeks are still round with babyfat. He wears cargo shorts and a striped shirt his mom obviously picked out for him, and a massive watch twice the size of his tiny wrist.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” He whispers. Avery zooms in on his face.

“If you chicken out, I’m going to tell everyone at school about your Mom cheating on your Dad. So you’re gonna stay here, and you’re gonna be the cameraman, if you know what’s good for you.”

Wren goes an even paler shade of white. The sun dips low through the trees, sunset just beginning. The camera focuses on Wren’s face, then goes dark. It starts back up again, reading a new timestamp; 22:07:15, or ten at night. It’s much darker, the sun long gone, and Avery swears.

“Shit. What’s taking them so long?”

“Does this thing have a…a light?” Wren asks timidly. Avery rolls her eyes but you can barely see it.

“Yeah, because we’re going to film secretly with a giant camera light.”

“Then how –”

There’s a jostling of the camera, and suddenly everything is night vision – green and shades of black and gray. Avery’s pupils are white, glowing eerily as she hands the camera back.

“Just stay focused on her, okay?”

The camera shakes, like Wren’s hand is unstable. “Avery, I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this anymore –”

“Shh!” Avery hisses, lying flat on the ground and pulling him down with her. “There she is. Just film.”

My breath catches. Wren zooms in on a pale figure cutting through the forest trees.

Sophia.

Thirteen-year-old Sophia.

Her hair is short, but the same color of winter moonlight. She carries a flashlight. She’s skinny, but much plumper than when I knew her – her cheeks are robust and filled out and her preteen curves are noticeable. A flush dons her face, and she skips. Skips! I never once saw Sophia go any faster than a floaty, leisurely walk. She’s wearing a sundress, floral and wavy around her calves. She looks around, calling out.

“Jack? Jack, where are you? C’mon, you’re freaking me out.”

“J-Jack’s not really here, is he?” Wren whispers.

“Of course not, idiot,” Avery scoffs. “I just forged a note from him and stuck it in her purse. They’re soooo in love, she’ll believe anything.”

The camera focuses on Sophia, now looking very scared. It’s eerie and heartbreaking all at once to see her alive on camera, and so happy. So different.

Her flashlight beam bounces around, landing in the bushes Avery and Wren are hiding in. They duck lower, and the beam passes as Sophia does a slow turn. She freezes, and then starts backing up.

“W-Who are you?”

The beam illuminates a beardy, middle-aged man with a cruel smirk. He wears overalls and an oily rag sticks out of his pocket.

“They’re just gonna scare her, right?” Wren whispers frantically to Avery. Avery doesn’t say anything, her attention rapt on Sophia. “Right, Av?” Wren presses. He swings the camera back to Sophia, his hand shaking harder and the camera shaking with it. Another man walks out of the trees, and another. Five of them. One of them has a baseball bat, another has what looks like a crowbar. The one in overalls talks in a low voice to Sophia as she backs up, into the trees, her face twisted with horror. Only Sophia’s high, panicked voice can be heard.

“Leave me alone! My friends are in the house! If I scream, they’ll call the cops!”

This earns a laugh from the man, and it spreads to the other men, until it resembles a ring of hoarse hyenas. She is so defenseless, I tremble with the urge to reach in and pull her out, pull her to safety.

“Av!” Wren hisses. “Call them off!”

Avery’s smiles just gets wider. “Not yet. They haven’t really scared her yet.”

“They’re going to – they’re not going to touch her, are they?”

Avery glowers. “No. I ordered them to just…just scare the shit out of her. But they can’t touch her. I told them they can’t.”

Wren swings back to the men, now so close they’ve formed a ring around Sophia. She tries to run, but one of them catches her and throws her to the ground in the center. There’s more laughter.

“Leave her alone!”

That voice is young, strong, angry. I’ve never heard I sound that way before, but I know who it belongs to by heart. Jack, proud and tawny-haired, draws all the men’s attention. His blue eyes aren’t icy, instead burning with white-blue fire. He still has baby fat on his cheeks, but the rest of him is tall, lanky; a boy-growing-too-fast kind of lanky. And he’s just as infuriatingly handsome. But he’s not the Ice Prince I know now – his expressions boil over, his emotions clear and legible in his every tensed muscle and flexing fist. He is a lion, a little king, angry and righteous and true.

Two of the men start towards Jack, but he ducks under their grasp and bolts for Sophia. One man throws himself on Jack, slamming them both to the ground in a spray of pine needles and dirt.

“Jack!” Sophia screams. Jack swears, kick and punching and thrashing like a wild animal, but the other two men catch up and put his arms behind him in a lock, forcing him to his knees.

A soft fog starts to roll in through the trees. The other men turn to Sophia, who screams and curls against a tree trunk like it’ll offer her some protection.

“Leave her alone!” Jack screams, a piercing scream that rips my heart into jagged pieces. “You fucking bastards, pick on someone who can fight back! No! No, Sophia! Sophia, run!”

“N-No,” Avery’s voice is clear, though Wren seems to be paralyzed, focused entirely on Sophia and Jack. “No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to – back off. Just back off.”

Her whispered commands don’t work. The men close in, and Sophia puts her head in her hands.
 

“Help me, Jack,” She cries. Some of the men sway, obviously drunk, as they close the gap and start pulling at Sophia’s dress. I choke back bile but Jack reacts quicker – the man holding him cries out and collapses, and Jack jumps up, scooping the aluminum baseball bat the man dropped and swinging it into the man, over and over and over. Avery swears, and even shell-shocked Wren flinches. Two men dive for Jack, but Jack slips through their meaty arms and swings for their skulls, a hollow, sickening thwack resounding through the trees when metal meets bone. The fourth man fumbles with something in his jacket, a gun maybe, but Jack ducks behind the first man who’s hauled himself off the ground, and the bullet cuts into the man’s shoulder, the force of it pinning him to the ground again. Jack takes the moment to lunge in, slamming the bat over the gunman’s neck. He crumples like a rag doll, the gun dropping into the leaves.