Читать книгу The Rift Uprising - Amy Foster S. - Страница 12

Violet has outdone herself with the wardrobe selection. She is wearing super-high-waisted jeans and a skinny belt around her impossibly tiny waist. Her gray silk blouse is unbuttoned low enough to show some cleavage. She is covered from head to toe, but the look is far sexier than the trampy, try-too-hard outfits I know the other girls at the party will be wearing. I tried to get away with a sweatshirt and my yoga pants, and honestly it almost came to blows. After refusing to put on a dress, or a skirt, I finally agreed to short Levi’s cutoffs and a cropped black tank. I insisted on my dark brown leather boots with straps, but I did concede to a bunch of jangly bangles. I am wearing my hair long and loose. I almost always wear it back, so even I am a little surprised when I see how long it is—down to the middle of my back. My hair is a Nordic blond with a natural wave. Because I wear it up so often, I have darker-blond highlights that have been tucked away from the sun. I pull the light strands over my shoulders and twist the ends to make it look smoother. When I realize I am preening at my own reflection, I stop. I’m not used to caring about how I look, but for tonight, I realize how much I want to look pretty. Or at least, I want to know that I can be pretty.

I let Vi put makeup on me. Luckily we both agree that, for me, less is more. I only look good wearing makeup if I don’t actually look like I have any on. Violet has dark voluminous hair and even darker eyes. Her skin, though, is as fair as mine. She can get away with all kinds of crazy eye shadow colors and, unlike me, not look like a hooker.

We walk to Flora Branach’s house and don’t bother to knock. We can hear the music blasting, so there’s no point. We get more than a few stares when we walk in. I know the boys are imagining all kinds of sexual scenarios when they look at us. What they don’t know is that we’d likely crush their windpipes before they would ever find out what we look like without our shirts.

The way some of them are outright leering, the prospect of some broken tracheas appeals to me. I find myself smiling.

The house is jam-packed. I guess we took more time getting ready than I’d thought. Boone comes up behind us and starts dancing right away with Violet. I suppose the fact that they’re grooving to a boy-band song from the nineties in a room full of people takes the sex appeal right out of it. Surprisingly, he’s actually pretty good. Violet starts doing what I can only assume is the Robot. I laugh, and so does everyone else. People don’t, like, dance at house parties. But Vi and Boone somehow make it cool. I’m sure that everyone will join them soon enough. Maybe if I drink enough, I will, too. But it takes a lot for us Citadels to get drunk.

Flora sees me from the kitchen and starts to shimmy toward me with an extra cup in her hand.

“You came.” She looks pleased and also strangely wary. The corners of her mouth are turned up into a smile, but it seems forced.

“I did,” I say, smiling back at her. There is an awkward silence for a couple seconds. We both just stand there, grinning like assholes. The thing is, Flora and I used to be absolute best friends. Flora and I had almost every class together in eighth grade and we had an instant connection. We just got each other. We liked all the same things and, with her living so close to me, I think we spent just about every day together. She can be sassy but also really kind. When the headaches came because of the implant, I can vividly remember lying in her lap, her room darkened because the light stung my eyes. She would put a cold washcloth on my forehead and whisper that everything was going to be fine. She talked me through that agony on more than one occasion.

I repaid her by abruptly cutting her out of my life once I became a Citadel.

I was mean about it because I was mad, too. I just couldn’t lie to her; she was my best friend. So I avoided her as much as possible. It broke both our hearts. We have gotten over the worst of it by now. We are civil to one another—nice, even. Still, it will never be the same between us. Tonight, though, she seems weird but happy, happier than I have seen her in a long time. Her cheeks are flushed, and I realize part of the reason for her attitude: She is drunk. She passes me a drink and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“I mean …” Flora begins, “how can you not even have one ounce of body fat on you? It’s, like, not natural.” Flora is slurring her words. I take the drink and shrug. What am I supposed to do? Apologize? I look around, suddenly uncomfortable. “I think you … something is going on there. I don’t know. It’s Levi, too. Levi!” she screams over the music, and waves her arm wildly. I catch her older brother’s eye. He’s on the stairs, behind us. Watching. Slowly he walks down and joins us. Levi and I look at each other, communicating caution without words.

He is tall and muscular but not too beefy—as his sister noted, not an ounce of fat on him, either. His hair is a true auburn, like his sister’s, and his eyes are the most remarkable shade of green, far brighter than my own. Another interesting fun fact about Levi is that he tried to work around his implant with his girlfriend, another Citadel, named Ingrid. She ended up in a coma for three weeks, while he got most of his ribs broken. A leg, too.

Oh … and he’s a jerk.

During one of my first experiences with Karekins at The Rift, I had almost let one get the jump on one of his teammates. When it was over, he just screamed at me. He was the first boy I really crushed on, but after that day any romantic feelings I had for him immediately evaporated. To be fair, he was never really all that nice (hot, yes, but aloof), but after the Ingrid thing he became a downright prick. I generally avoided him as much as I could.

“You two.” Flora sways as she says it and points a finger at us both. “What is it with you? You’re like aliens. You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know there’s some freaky shit going on?” Levi tries to grab the drink from her hand, but she lifts it up and spins away from him. “Fuck off, Levi, you weirdo.”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says sternly, narrowing his eyes.

“Shut up, Spider-Man, or whatever the hell you are. I just wanted to tell you both that I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know it’s something.” Flora backs away and walks off into the crowd.

“What was that about?” I take a long swig from the plastic cup in my hands.

“We were in the kitchen last month and she started a grease fire. I put it out very quickly. Too quickly, if you know what I mean.”

“Ahh.”

“And a couple days ago she walked into my room without knocking and I was working out. Doing a handstand. On one hand.” I nod my head because I’m not sure what else to say. Finally, though, I can’t stand his eyes boring into me.

“You think I should go talk to her or something?” I ask. I really don’t want to go talk to her, but I feel like it’s the right thing to do, even though I have no idea how a conversation like that would play out.

“Nah, she’s too drunk to reason with. You’d probably just make things worse.” I roll my eyes. I don’t really know Flora anymore, but I’m sure I could say something that might make her feel less paranoid about the vibes she’s been feeling. Before I can say anything, though, Levi turns around and leaves. He’s about as sensitive as a bag of rocks. I shrug and join Boone and Violet, who are dancing happily in the living room. I don’t exactly start to dance, but I tap my boots to the rhythm of the music. Henry has arrived. I see him at the fireplace with his arms crossed, looking like a bouncer. No wonder kids think everyone in ARC is a freak.

I drink some more. I feel myself loosening up. I can’t believe it, but I actually think I’m having a good time. After about an hour, though, I get a pang about Flora. I really should go find her and make sure she is okay. I look throughout the house for her and then outside where the party has spilled out around a fire pit. I see Levi talking to another Citadel his age, a year older than me, a supposed senior at Battle Ground High. When I don’t see Flora, I ask Levi if he has. He says he hasn’t, sighs with annoyance, and together we walk into the house.

I grab a random girl on the stairs and ask her if she’s seen our host.

“She went up to her room,” the girl says drunkenly. “With two guys,” she whispers, and stumbles a bit on the step. I see Levi tense. I can see he’s about to leap up the remaining flight of stairs, but I grab the back of his arm and push him up against the wall, pinning him to it. Anyone looking would assume that we’re about to hook up. I speak softly in his ear.

“Take it easy, Levi.”

He turns his head and looks at me, his eyes burning. His voice goes deathly quiet. “Get off of me, Ryn.”

“I will go and deal with this,” I assure him. Levi pushes forward and I push him back harder.

“She’s my sister.”

“Yeah, but if you go in there, you’ll kill them. Me?” I smile. “I’ll just hurt them.” Levi rolls his eyes and then nods his head. I race up the stairs, and throw open the door to Flora’s room. I see my friend naked on the bed. She is totally passed out. One guy is on top of her, and the other, beside me, has his phone out and shirt off, and is clearly filming the action.

“Hey, girl, you wanna join the party?” the guy next to me says. Oh my God, did he just say that? The party? Dumbass must think we are in an actual porno, because that’s the only situation where I think a girl would be down with this rapey shit.

I consider how much restraint I actually want to show. My conclusion: very little.

“Oh, yeah, I really do.” My voice is a soft purr. I quickly reach out and grab the guy’s phone and throw it hard against the wall so that it smashes into pieces.

“What the hell?” he screams. The guy on the bed turns around. His pants are open, but it doesn’t look like he has done anything … yet.

Thank God.

“She brought us up here, she wanted to do this and it’s a free country, so get naked or get the fuck out,” Bed Boy snarls. “Oh, yeah, and you can pay for my buddy’s phone, too, you crazy bitch.”

Restraint level: virtually zero.

“You think this is cool?” I yell. “She is passed-out drunk. Any alarm bells go off in your head? Even you two morons must know that this is wrong.”

The guy closest to me goes to grab me by the arm. I’m not sure what he was thinking, but now the gloves are off. Maybe he was going to try to force me onto the bed, too, or maybe he was just trying to throw me out of the room. Either way, he should not have touched me. I grab his hand and bend it back the wrong way. I sidestep him as he yelps in pain. I easily maneuver my arms around his neck to put him in a choke hold. I squeeze, applying just enough pressure to make him pass out. His body slumps, I push him off of me, and he falls to the ground with a thud.

The guy in the bed scrambles up. He’s about six feet tall with sandy-colored hair and brown eyes. He’s not exactly ugly, but there is something distinctly ratlike about his nose and mouth. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and anger. “What did you just do? Did you just kill him?”

I walk closer to him and see that he’s breathing hard. His chest is puffed out. If his body has gone into fight-or-flight mode, I know he’s going to choose the first option. It’s a big mistake.

“Thought about it, but no. He’s sleeping.” I can’t help but give a little laugh. I am wearing a dangerous smirk. This idiot has no idea who I am or what I can do. I’m grinning because he thinks he has a chance, and I’m happy because there are so many cruel boys like him in the world and so many helpless girls. I don’t really believe in Karma. I’ve seen too many good people die and too many assholes win, but tonight is different. It feels like the universe put me in this room for a reason, and on behalf of so many defenseless women, I’m about to tip the scales in their favor—for once.

“You’re disgusting,” I tell him as I lose the smile. “All the therapy in the world won’t help you. There is something dark and twisted inside of you; I can see it in your eyes. A person like you understands only two things: fear and violence. And since you’re clearly not afraid of me …”

The boy gets inches in front of my face. The veins in his neck bulge. His eyes widen and shift erratically back and forth. “Shut up!” he screams. “All you ARC brats are the same. You walk around thinking that you’re better than us, smarter than us—”

“We are,” I interrupt, which only pisses him off more.

“There is something not right with you people. I don’t even know if you are people.” Now he’s the one to laugh, and he throws his hands up wildly. “You’re all fucking robots or aliens or something, but you don’t scare me. You think I won’t hit someone just because they’re a girl?”

I narrow my eyes at him. I know I’m goading him, but I can’t help it. He is a truly vile individual.

“I’m counting on it.”

He lunges at me and I grab his fist and squeeze, breaking every bone in his hand. He whimpers and goes down on his knees. I twist behind him and deliver one swift kick to his kidney, which lands him on the floor, howling in pain. I spin once more and hit him in the face. Then I hit him again. I keep hitting, knowing that I’m inflicting damage, but I’m holding back because I do not want to kill him. Though, frankly, I kind of think the world would be a better place without him. His face is a bloody mess.

I crouch down beside him. He is sputtering blood, coughing, trying to catch his breath. “Pay attention,” I say in a soothing tone. “There is a lesson to be learned with every defeat. Like I told you: fear and violence—that’s all you understand. You’ll think twice now before you try something like this again. Really, you should be thanking me. Maybe you won’t end up in prison.”

“Screw you,” he manages to wheeze out of his swollen lips.

I stand up and look down at him. “No. Clearly that won’t be happening. I guess you haven’t learned your lesson after all. So I suppose we’ll just have to stick to violence. I know who you are and if I ever, ever hear that you’ve been inappropriate with a girl, I will come back and finish you. I will kill you, and I will get away with it.”

The boy says nothing. I lean down and grab his face with my hand. I rear my other fist back to punch him again. He whimpers and shies away. “No, no, please don’t.” He is crying now. “I heard you. I won’t. Please!” I let his face go. I grab his T-shirt from the floor by the bed and wipe as much blood off my hands as I can manage.

“Now, pick up your friend and get out of this house. And don’t even think of telling anyone what happened here.” I throw the shirt in his face and he gingerly puts it back on. He picks himself up slowly and then grabs his buddy, who is just coming around. Somehow he manages to pull the other guy to his feet.

“How am I going to explain this?” he asks, pointing to his face. “I’m probably going to have to go to the hospital. I think my jaw is broken—and my hand …” He really is pathetic, asking me for answers. Such typical behavior in an alpha who has been kicked out of his dominant place. I roll my eyes. He’s surrendered all his power. I’ve seen it too many times to count.

“I dunno, tell them you walked into a door or tripped down the stairs. Women have had to use those lines for years.” I turn away from him, toward the bed. He has been dismissed. He will leave and say nothing more, and because he’s such an unevolved human being he won’t even really understand why. I look down at my knuckles, which are raw and scratched. I saved Flora. I may have saved some other girl from the same fate. I don’t feel guilty for what I’ve done, but I resent the fact that I had to do it. I just wanted to go to a party. I feel like I drag violence along with me everywhere I go, the same way a mother has to drag her screaming toddler around a grocery store. It’s just life. Things have to be done. I look down at a bloodstain on the carpet. This is who I am. This is more than just my job, and all the times I just wish for something normal are starting to feel like wallowing.

I walk lightly over to Flora, who hasn’t awakened. Thank God. I check her vitals. She’s fine, just drunk as hell. I go to her chest of drawers and pull out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Gently, I dress her. I pull back the covers, put her into the bed, and tuck her in. I walk out the door, turning the light off as I go.

I walk down the hallway and see Levi waiting for me at the top of the stairs, his arms folded, his face like stone.

“I saw them leave,” he says through a clenched jaw.

“I told you I would handle it. I did,” I offer. There is silence between us. A silence that reaches up and stretches outward beyond whatever explanation I could give.

“Did they hurt her? Did they …” Levi can’t continue from there. The words seem to stick in his throat and he clears it. I hear pain in that half-strangled cough. He breaks eye contact and looks away. I watch his hands, they twitch and his fingers curl into fists. Without even thinking, I reach out and cover them with my own hands. His skin is hot to the touch.

“They tried, but I stopped them before anything happened. She’s so drunk, I doubt she’ll even remember bringing them in there. Does she do this a lot? Is this a thing with her now?” I was referring to both the drinking and the guys, but my tone was soft, as tender as I could manage.

Instead of answering, Levi stares down at our hands. He looks back up at me, at first confused and then angry. He jerks himself free. “What are you doing? Don’t do that. Don’t touch me, Ryn, ever.”

“Seriously?” I ask him, thoroughly insulted. I was just trying to be nice. Then it dawns on me why he wouldn’t want me touching him. “Oh,” I say, looking at my hands and then at him. “I … didn’t know that you thought of me in that—”

Levi huffs and scowls at me. “Please,” he condescends. “You’ve got tits and I’m a dude. I won’t let any female touch me.”

I fold my arms and consider this typically rude statement, and Levi snaps his game face on. I know this face. I’ve seen creatures and beasts whimper at this face. His eyes become terrifyingly vacant. His features become still and hard, as though sculpted out of marble. And then something changes in his eyes. He begins to stare intently at me. It’s not attraction I’m getting—at least, not the obvious kind. It’s something else. If I had to name it, I would say hunger, like he wants to pull me apart and eat me bit by bit. He is so screwed up, though; who knows what he’s thinking? He probably can’t want something without wanting to hurt it, or maybe he just wants to hurt everyone. He’s not like the boys who were up in Flora’s room. He doesn’t have an abusive nature. He’s not a bully. I’ve never seen him be unnecessarily violent … but I think there’s a part of him that wants everyone to hurt as badly as he does.

It’s a feeling that I can totally relate to.

Eventually he looks away and I am only partly relieved. Like I said, my crush on Levi came to an end long ago, but I’m messed up, too. The way he stared at me should have made me uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It’s strangely hot, to think of him eating me, to imagine him biting into my flesh and tearing off the muscle and bone. Every Citadel is twisted up in some way. I thought my fucked-up-ness came in the form of over-the-top control freak. It scares me to think that it can come in the form of something so much darker.

“I suppose this means I owe you one.”

His voice snaps me out of my own brooding. I cock my head suddenly. I did not expect him to say that. Maybe I just imagined whatever it was that passed between us, because his question makes me think that he doesn’t really remember me at all. I used to practically live in his house. His sister and I were best friends. He does not owe me anything. I didn’t do anything for him. But a plan is forming in my mind, just the barest hint of an idea.

“Yeah, you do,” I lie. And with that I walk past him, down the stairs, and out the door.