Exalted (2 page)

The
pale-haired, blue-eyed man stretched out his hand, and a small door to his left
burst open. Julia flew directly into the earl’s arms. He wrapped his hands
around her neck, and her face contorted as she screamed.
  

Cayne
rushed forward— He tried to, but something was holding him in place.

“Let
her go!”

“You
were made to be a tool, my son, and that is what you are.” The deep, discordant
voice vibrated through the corridor, audible even over Julia's horrible
shrieks. Big, pale hands mashed her throat so hard her flailing arms drooped,
and Cayne fought harder against the force restraining him.

“It
is time to fulfill your purpose,” the evil said, situating Julia's limp body
over his knee, so Cayne could see her cheeks redden as she was strangled.

“LET
HER GO!” He screamed as he struggled. “Let her go! What do you want? I'll do
it!”

The
evil being snatched Julia's limp body back against his lap, loosening his grip
on her bruised neck, stroking her reddened face. He chuckled as she gasped for
air, and Cayne grew so frantic he gasped, too, hardly even hearing the scourge
when he said, “What I want is for you to kill her.”

“Never!”

The
being shrugged. “Oh well.” He wrapped his fingers around Julia's neck, jerking
it
way too hard
, and Cayne heard a sickening crack. Her body slackened,
and the evil being dropped her.

Cayne
roared, and finally the restraining force released him. He dropped onto the
cold stone floor and pulled Julia's body into his lap, flinching as her head
lolled—blood-shot eyes open, neck too loose.

Dear
Christ
.
  

He
let out a howl that seemed to shake the thick stone walls, and the evil before
him grinned. “It was bound to happen. She is meant to die.”
     
Cayne charged the evil being, who
caught his shoulder and, with a flick of its wrist, tossed him to the floor. He
lay panting beside Julia's broken body. He watched blood trickle from her lips
and thought,
I won’t fight back. I’d
rather die.

The
evil sighed. “We can’t have that foolishness.”

To
Cayne’s amazement, Julia took a breath. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked
at Cayne with such love he felt like weeping.

Then
she stood, bowed, and vanished.

Cayne
was stunned. “What—”

“An
illusion, dear son. Meant to prepare you for your role in our Celestial drama.”

“What—who
are you?”

The
creature smiled. “'Father' not good enough for you?”

“You're
not my father.”

“I
have many names. The first was The Exalted. These days, most people know me as
the Lord of Hell. The Adversary.”

Cayne
felt completely empty. Dead and numb. “Are you— Are you saying you're The
devil?”

The
creature laughed: an awful, mocking boom. “Too much of your mother in you. But
you’ll do the job. And yes, I go by devil, too.”

Chapter
Two

Julia
and Meredith were washing dishes. It was weird because they were back in the
dish room at the compound, and Julia knew the compound wasn’t there anymore.
But there they were, standing side by side in front of an enormous double sink,
their arms soaped up to their elbows and their long hair falling down around
their biceps. Meredith was telling Julia a story about Nathan.

Julia
was having trouble listening to the story, because she had a story of her own
for Mer—a story that involved Nathan and lots of other people. A terrible,
terrible story.

Meredith
was saying, “uptight… But he’s a good guy at heart. I was in Drew’s dream last
night and dream-Drew told me Nathan was walking toward Cayne with us. Does that
make sense to you?” She leaned back, tossing her glossy black locks over her
shoulders so they wouldn't get wet.

“It
doesn’t really,” Julia admitted. “But Meredith, I think you need to get a new
crush. I’m not so sure Nathan is a good guy.”

Meredith
waved her concern away. “Come on Jules, I can’t imagine a more harmless boy.”

Julia
frowned, trying to figure out why she felt so uneasy. “Maybe it isn't
Nathan...but there’s definitely something bad going on right now. I can feel it
in my stomach.” She stared into her friend’s brown eyes, and all of a sudden
she got a mental image of Meredith, lying on dark dirt, with her eyes shut, her
face pale, and Nathan's jacket draped over her. “Please, Meredith. Promise me
you'll be careful.”

Meredith
nodded, and Julia knew she couldn't tell her all of it: In her vision, Meredith
was dead.

***

“I wonder what my daddy would do if I killed
you right now.”

Julia’s rattled consciousness went straight
from the dish room to Dizzy’s grating voice: high-pitched but froggy—exactly
the kind of voice someone with an ugly aura
should
have.

“You know, it wouldn’t be very difficult at
all. I think you have a concussion. That, or your head’s just scrambled. Either
way, makes things a lot easier.”

Julia’s senses came back online one at a
time—physical sensations screaming between remembered fragments of the
mountainside conflict that had led to her capture. Something sharp dug into her
wrists and ankles—probably binding, because based on the numbness of her butt
and the cold, hard thing pushing into her shoulder blades, she was tied to a
chair.

Her eyelids cracked open and she had to fight
to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head. She had a beast of a
headache, and Dizzy was right: Her brain
was
scrambled. Everything
looked...hazy. Then Julia blinked and she realized her vision was off because
of the water, or rather, melting snow, running into her eyes. The stuff soaked
the rest of her, too—her white, long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and All-Stars. Someone
had removed her jacket, so she felt cold to the bone.

Cold and somehow…unsteady. She had the
nauseating sensation that the floor was buzzing, the room teetering. She
cracked her eyes open a little more and glanced around, seeing beige walls and
smart, minimalist gray curtains over two small windows. Then something jabbed
her in the chest.

“Hey, you. Wake up.” And when Julia looked
down, she did, because the cold, hard thing pressing into her breastbone was a
gun
.

She didn’t give Dizzy the satisfaction of
screaming, but her body instinctively tried to flinch—useless since she was all
tied up.

Dizzy giggled, a gross, high-pitched sound
that reminded Julia of a Disney villain.

“Are you scared, little
One
?” Dizzy was on her knees on the bed that was right in front of
Julia's chair, leaning forward, over Julia's lap. Her long, dark blonde hair
had been chopped above her ears, so she looked like an evil, skinny pixie.

She dragged the gun down, pressing it between
Julia’s boobs as her free hand squeezed Julia’s shoulder, and Julia felt terror
bloom inside her. Her mind screamed
Cayne!
But he wasn’t there, and she couldn’t afford to need him in this moment. Not if
she wanted to live to find him.

“Dizzy, what do you want?” Her numb lips and
chattering teeth garbled the words a little, letting her know it hadn't been
long since the snowy scuffle.

Dizzy released her with a shove and sank down
cross-legged at the foot of the bed. She rested the gun in her lap, and Julia
frowned. “Are those my shoes?”

Dizzy’s Converse All-Stars were hot pink, and
the sight of the shoes made Julia sit up straighter. She glanced down at
herself, trying and failing to stick out her tied feet.

Dizzy laughed, mistaking Julia’s shoe check
for something else. “You won’t get loose. I had Shea tie you up, and that
little bitch is good at everything. You’d think
she
was The One.”

Shea… That was her name. The deaf girl from
the dish room. The one who’d turned the tide in the fight on the mountain.

“What did she do to me?” Julia asked hoarsely.

Dizzy shrugged. “I dunno. Didn’t ask. Don't
care.”

Julia remembered the pit in her stomach when
they’d found Nathan and his crew waiting at the bottom of the path. It had
quickly filled with anger, and she’d gone Super Julia, blasting everyone she saw.
Then Shea had appeared, and everyone she saw had been Shea. All the Sheas
rushed her at once, and then…she couldn’t remember. She had woken up to Dizzy.

Julia cleared her throat and tried to project
a little confidence. “Where am I?”

The room around her was…weird. Plastic walls,
a metal bed with shimmery silver bedding, a gray recliner in a corner.

“Where do you think?” Dizzy asked, pressing
her lips together. She stared at Julia with her hate-filled gray eyes.

Julia exhaled. “I have no idea.”

“We’re in an airplane. You really can’t
tell?” Dizzy asked with a wave of her thin arm.

That made sense. It explained why she had
sensation of moving.

“Do you feel like a captive, little captive?”
Dizzy crooned. She was leaning forward again, wide-eyed, with a small smile,
like she was examining a bird she had wounded.

Julia tested the binds around her wrists and
ankles, finding them not so tight that they impeded her circulation, but too
tight to escape. Still, she scanned the room for a way out, figuring when she
didn’t find one that the door must be behind her.

Julia glanced at the gun still held loosely
in Dizzy’s hand, and wondered why the crazy girl had it in the first place.

“Dizzy…you mentioned your dad earlier. Who is
he?”

Dizzy’s thin lips pulled into a straight
line, and she stuck out her chin, looking petulant.

“Remember when you hurt me during our dagger
fight?”

It took Julia a moment to realize Dizzy was
referring to Marilee’s death.

“What’s that got to do with your dad?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Julia hadn’t been interested when she brought
it up; she just wanted to keep Dizzy talking, and hoped she’d be able to
squeeze more information out of her. But the half proud, half guilty look on
Dizzy’s face made her curious.

“You mentioned him earlier, though. Is it a
secret or something?”

Dizzy folded her birdlike arms. “It shouldn’t
be.
I’m
his daughter, not you. I’m
his only daughter.”

“Is that supposed to be a clue?” Julia asked
as patiently as she could.

“I think you know who I mean.”

When Julia realized what the girl was
implying, her jaw dropped. “Are you saying that your father…that he’s
Methuselah?”
 

“I’m not allowed to say that.” Dizzy ran a
palm over her short locks. “But I think you get my drift.”

“Methuselah is your father.” Julia nodded,
trying her best to keep her face neutral. She didn’t understand what game Dizzy
was playing. Methuselah was thousands of years old, after all. Could he even…do
that
?

Dizzy licked her lips. “The One is supposed
to be his ambassador to Heaven. The One is supposed to free all of the Chosen.
And it’s me, not you!”

Dizzy jumped up off the bed, and at the same
time, the plane bounced a little. The girl almost fell, but she stuck out her
arms and grinned. “See that? I’ve even got excellent balance. But I have something
else you don’t. Let me show you.” Dizzy turned away from Julia, looking down at
the pink All-Stars Julia now figured were imposters (her feet had thawed, so
she could feel them inside her own shoes), and all of a sudden Dizzy was
pulling off her slick, weatherproof gray pants and lifting up her gray sweater.

“See this?” she asked as Julia averted her
eyes.

“This,” she said, now pointing to the huge
birthmark that covered her bare butt and back, “is the mark of The One.
Methuselah has the mark all over his lower body, or so my mother said before
she died.”

Julia grimaced, and Dizzy, misunderstanding,
said, “He only poses as an old man. His body is actually still young.”

She pulled her pants back up, pulled her
sweater down, and turned to glare at Julia. “Look at you. You’re pathetic. I’m
not sure you’ll make it to Alexandria at all.”

“Alexandria?”

Ignoring her, Dizzy stepped closer, trailing
a finger over Julia’s hair. “Without you around to trick him, I think my father
will see that I’m The One.”

Dizzy smiled a sly cat smile, and Julia held
her gaze. “Untie me, Dizzy. Cut my binds and let me up out of this chair.
Now.
”

Dizzy looked uncertain for a minute, like
Julia’s words had the effect Julia had hoped; then she smiled. “You’re not
Nathan, you know.”

Dangit. Julia exhaled. “You know, I don’t
even want to be The One. If you want to take my place, I’ll help you. We can…I
don’t know. Or hey…better yet, why don’t you just let me go when the plane
lands? I swear I won’t come back. Why did you even bring me here to begin with?
You know I don’t want it.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Dizzy sighed.

“Whose was it, Nathan’s? We can see if maybe
he could talk to your—your father. They’re kind of friends or something,
right?”