Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy (17 page)

I
laugh, and revel in a moment of happiness. “Lance, do you like Hope?”

He
freezes. “No. I mean sure. She’s nice enough.” Lance stops himself, because
Hope really isn’t that nice. Maybe she would be if she weren’t so angry all the
time. “I don’t know, Libby. I feel like an idiot. She pretty much ignores me
most of the time unless I’m talking about missions, and she glares at me
constantly, but I just really like her for some reason. Am I crazy?”

“Is
this what convinced you to be okay with me and you not being together anymore?”
I ask through another laugh.

His
sheepish smile makes me laugh even harder. This is just too funny. It was
strange enough that Lance, Mr. Quarterback, handsome, flirty, rich, generally
amazing guy ended up with weirdo-me. He should be dating the cheer captain and
hosting the most outrageous parties. Instead, he’s watching a motionless
Guardian compound with me and finding himself attracted to an angry, although
quite pretty, slightly homicidal teenage girl. These are the kinds of things
that make it hard for me to believe in destiny. It’s just too strange.

When
I finally quit laughing, I say, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Lance. I think
it’s nice that you’ve found someone else you’re interested in, even if she does
scare me a little.”

He
grimaces, and I nudge him playfully.

“I’m
just kidding. I’m sure Hope is a really great girl. She’s just been through a
lot. I can’t imagine being held prisoner by the Guardians for eight months. I
bet what she really needs is a friend to show her that everything isn’t as bad
as she thinks it is. I definitely think you should take her to a movie.”

“So,
you’ll come?” he asks.

I
shake my head. “Thanks, but I actually have something else I need to do
tomorrow. Maybe we can see a movie this weekend.” On the weekend, Daniel is
free to watch Braden’s house for me.

“What
do you need to do tomorrow?”

“You
know no one else is free to watch Braden. At some point, Drake is going to show
back up. I’m afraid of what will happen to Braden if he doesn’t let me protect
him,” I say. My throat constricts as I think of someone hurting Braden. No
matter who it is, it would be my fault. I let him get captured. I didn’t rescue
him in time. I stripped him of the only way he had to protect himself. My eyes
fill with stinging tears. If I can’t keep him safe, I don’t deserve to win this
fight.

Lance
sighs next to me and stares out at the compound below us. “And you miss him.”

“And
I miss him,” I whisper. A thought traitorous to Milo, but true, regardless. Renegade
tears slip past my control and plop down on my jeans. I miss him so much. It’s
been torture waiting for him to do … something. Worse than when he was taken.
At least then, I could still believe he loved me. I thought for sure Braden
really loved me before, but the way he ran when our link was broken, the fact
that he refuses to see anyone, including me, makes me wonder if it was only an
illusion after all. Almost as much as my promise to Milo, facing him and
finding out for sure whether his love for me was all forced keeps me from
making contact. If everything I’ve put him through wasn’t bad enough, I’ve also
put him in incredible danger. More tears fall and it starts getting harder to
breathe.

That
one morning, I kissed him. It wasn't the sneak attack from the first time he
kissed me, or the sudden rush of elation when I stopped him from killing me, or
the quick secretive touches and looks he would give when I wasn’t expecting
them. For the first time, I kissed him because I honestly wanted to. I wanted
nothing more than him at that moment. Sure, I thought I was still asleep and
dreaming when I did it, but I think we all know what an excuse that is. Awake
or not, I wanted to kiss him. I refuse to admit to myself that it was all
pretend.

“Are
you going to try and see him?” Lance says.  

No.
That’s what should spill out of my mouth without hesitation. Instead, I remain
quiet. Every day I sit and watch him it gets harder not to imagine seeing him
again.

Lance
starts to say something, but his voice cuts off when we both spot a car rolling
up to the compound. I grab for my binoculars and smash them against my face
eagerly. Colors are pretty nonexistent using these things, but I saw before I
brought them up that the sedan was black. Now that I can see more clearly, it’s
obvious the body style of the car is identical to the one I saw at Braden’s.
That, in itself, doesn’t mean much since it’s the same kind of car every prick
who thinks he needs to be chauffeured around town uses, but it makes me
hopeful.

My
hope is rewarded.

“That’s
him,” I hiss at Lance when he finally steps out of the car. I tap my Perception
and watch the thick shadow of Vision tapping waver about his body. His light
colored, oiled hair stands out in the field of night-vision shades of green.
His fluid movements boast of pretty hefty Speed and Strength talents as well.
Great. Even from here I think I can feel his evilness. It’s oozing up the hill
to contaminate us. I watch him closely, flinching when his dead expression
flits up at the hill we’re sitting on. We’re too far away for him to actually
see us, though, and his gaze turns back to the compound.

“It’s
eleven o’clock at night,” Lance whispers. “What is this guy doing here? What
couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I
don’t know. Why isn’t he going inside?” I watch him as he stares out into the
high desert, waiting. What could he be waiting for out there? Somehow I doubt
he’s a big owl enthusiast.

Eleven
motionless minutes pass with Drake simply standing by his car and staring out at
the sagebrush and tumbleweeds. Lance and I both tense when his right hand darts
up to his ear where an ear piece must be hidden. He mouths something I can’t
decipher and moves a few steps away from the car. Seconds later, the sound of
someone struggling through the scrub brush tumbles toward us. I blink in
surprise when a pair of gigantic thugs burst into the open, lugging a thrashing
Guardian behind them. They yank him up to a standing position before Drake.

The
captive’s head lolls to the side. I gasp and grab Lance’s arm. Despite the dirt
and fresh bruises he’s sporting, I recognize him. “Lance, that’s the guy I
stabbed down in the containment cells when we were rescuing Hope. What was he
doing out in the desert?”

“It
looks like he was running away,” Lance says.

Drake
walks over to the young Guardian, places his hands on either side of his face,
and whips it to the side. I swear I can hear the snap of his vertebrae even
from here. The Guardian’s body slumps in the thugs’ hands, but they hold onto
him impassively. Drake’s own expression never changes once. Cold, malicious
energy builds around him as he dusts his hands on his jacket and turns away.
Not a single word is spoken. He climbs back into his car and is driven away as
the thugs haul the poor Guardian back inside to be disposed of.

I
can’t believe the absolute inhumanity of what I just witnessed. I feel cold as
we scramble to our own car so we can follow him. My hands are shaking wildly as
I snap my seatbelt into place. That man just murdered one of his own, one of
his brothers. He didn’t even bat an eye as he ended that poor guy’s life. If I
didn’t already, I’m beginning to understand why Blackwood and Braden are so
terrified of him. Who is this Drake person, and what on earth is he planning to
do to me?

Chapter
14

No Second Chances

I should have been so
exhausted by the time I finally got home last night that sleep shouldn’t have
been a problem. I’ve never been a very good sleeper, but last night was even worse
than usual. I kept seeing Drake snap that guy’s neck over and over again, and
then coming after Braden to do the same. He didn’t stop Blackwood from hurting
Braden because of any moral objections, just the number of spectators.
Somewhere in the back of my mind there was worry for my own life, and everyone
else’s as well, but in my nightmares all I could see was Drake’s slender
fingers closing around Braden’s throat.

Trying
to shake off the nightmares is impossible. I have never wanted to ditch school
so badly in my life. Unfortunately, that’s not an option today. Or any other
day. Why did I get myself un-expelled again? I sit at my empty kitchen table
sipping at a glass of orange juice with my eyes closed. If I open them, my head
will start pounding. First day back to school and I look so awful everyone is
going to have a whole new reason to want to stay away from me. What I wouldn’t
give for one night with Braden. My cheeks color at the thought. Guilt is quick
on the heels of my blush. For the sleep, I tell myself sternly. The only time
I’ve ever gotten a decent amount of sleep is when I fell asleep on Braden’s
lap. He probably would have made me breakfast this morning, I think, instantly
regretting the thought. I have got to get control of my head today!

Thinking
of that unexplained peace I felt waking next to Braden brings a swell of sadness
to my heart. I think I have stolen that as well. I didn’t feel anything of the
link of being Spiritual Companions the two brief times I’ve seen him since I
took his talents. The thick band of beaded bracelets carefully concealing my
left wrist shifts as I lift my glass, worsening my depression. I’ve never
flaunted my diktats, but I haven’t had to hide them in a while, either. I can’t
let anyone see the new second row, or literally the entire world will be
calling for my death. No one in their right mind will stand for me stealing
other people’s talents. My head slips down to the table and stays there until
Lance knocks on my front door.

Prepared
for my less than stellar mood by the connection he shares with me, he
completely ignores my sourness and thrusts a tiny wrapped box into my hand. His
grin doesn’t cheer me up. It actually kind of makes me want to smack him. But I
don’t.

“Lance,
you really didn’t need to get me anything,” I say.

“Whatever.
Just open it.”

I
sigh and start tearing the paper away. The sight of the dark blue jeweler’s box
makes me glare at him. He laughs and gestures for me to open it. I lift the lid
and stare at its contents in confused amazement. The silver chain holds a
single pendant, a beautiful double layered engraving on a circular background,
but I have no idea what I’m looking at.

“What
is it?” I ask.

Lance
lifts the necklace out of the box and holds it up to the light. “It’s a replacement
for the one I gave you last year.”

My
birthday last year, that was the day this whole catastrophe I call my life
really imploded in on itself. Lance had given me a necklace with the sign for
Naturalism on it since I had been pretending that was my only talent at the
time. A momentary pinch of guilt sticks me as I remember tearing the necklace
off after my Inquest and throwing it away. At the time, it was totally called
for. If this is a replacement for that, then …

“Is
this the symbol for the Destroyer? I didn’t even know there was one.” Classes
have symbols just like talents do, but I guess I never thought about anyone
bothering to create one for the person they thought was going to end all life.

“It
took a while to find the symbol, and even longer to find someone willing to
make it for me, but it all worked out in the end,” Lance says. He holds the
necklace up and points at the different markings as he explains. “The symbol
has two layers. The symbol underneath, the spiral, represents renewal. This
circle with the spears coming out of it represents death and destruction. There
are two layers, because these two ideals have to work together in opposition or
everything falls apart. If there’s only renewal and growth, the world would get
out of hand. Destruction breaks down the old and corrupted to make room for the
new, pure parts of life. They have to be balanced. It’s both sides of what
you’re supposed to do. It’s called the Paradigm, the ideal world.”

I
run my fingertip over the individual elements, amazed and even comforted by the
interpretation. It’s incredible. I never would have expected something
connected to me to contain such beauty and insight.

“It’s
a really old symbol,” Lance says, “designed centuries ago before all these lies
about the Guardians and Ciphers really started getting out of control. I guess
at some point people knew your real purpose, Libby. They understood who you
were meant to be, and … and I don’t think they were afraid of you. I don’t
think anyone would have made something so beautiful for the Destroyer if they
really believed you were evil. I think they might have loved you for what you
were going to do.”

“Maybe,”
I whisper, hope trickling into my heart. “Maybe they will again. Someday.”

Lance
smiles and asks, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,
I do. Thanks. It’s really beautiful,” I say as I fasten it around my neck
proudly.

“Cool.
Well, we better get going.” He starts toward the car, walking quickly. I move
to follow him, but slow when I see Hope getting out of the front seat and
jumping into the back. I glance over at Lance who shrugs with a dopey looking
smile. “You don’t mind do you? Her dad had to go back home to get some stuff
worked out so they can move down here permanently and her mom was worried about
her going anywhere alone.”