Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) (23 page)

“Hold
it there—” he said, as clear, chilled liquid dribbled down his arm and soaked
into the gauze.

 “
Aaron?
”
Casler halted.

“Who’d
you think?” said Aaron.

“I
thought you were Clive—” Casler’s face softened and he grinned despite the
broken bottle in Aaron’s hands. “Aaron, what brings you down here?” he said
conversationally.

Aaron
kicked over the medicine rack, and the roar of shattering glass echoed off the
walls. Chemicals sizzled on the floor. “Why do you keep pretending?” he said.

Casler
eyed the steaming liquid rushing toward his feet. “Pretending?” he said. “Did
something I say upset you?”

Aaron’s
wet arm felt warm and itchy. “If you even touch
her,” he said. “I’ll
gouge out your son’s
eyes, I swear.”

Casler
smiled and stepped carefully around the steaming puddle. “Aaron, we’re all very
taken by Amber’s charm,” he said, “but you do
understand how much of a
nuisance her constant disobedience can be sometimes.” His face blotted out the
halogen lamps. “Just one tiny prick, though, and we can drain out the feisty
parts. She won’t even know anything’s missing.”

“You’re
out of your mind,” said Aaron.

“I’m
afraid this isn’t my choice,” said Casler. “A man’s half must be obedient.”

 “So
you’re going to suck her dry?” said Aaron, and he pictured the woman in the car
outside the Juvengamy meeting. That was what Casler meant by obedient.

“She’ll
be quite tame when it’s done, and much improved, you’ll see. Now was there
anything else?” Casler grinned, and he stepped closer, teeth sparkling. 

Aaron
thrust the bottle forward, halting him. The cut on his wrist felt hot. “How
about the kid you murdered?”

“Sorry?”
said Casler.

“I
saw the body,” said Aaron.

“The
body?” For a moment, Casler peered at him as if he
was the crazy one,
before his eyes flashed with awareness. “Ah—
that
body.”

“There’s
more than one?” said Aaron.

“Just
the one,” said Casler, beaming at him. “I was supposed to return it to the
coroner—”

An
invisible fire seared Aaron’s wrist, and he dropped the broken bottle. His
fingers tensed, clawlike, and he tore at the gauze around the knife wound.
Singed hairs curled on his forearm, and the chemical smell of dissolving flesh
parched his nose.

It
was the liquid on his arm.

Casler
rushed to his side and lifted his hand. His thick fingers probed Aaron’s skin.

“Hydrochloric
acid,” he said, kneeling and rummaging through the bottles on the floor. He
caught one as it rolled away, unscrewed the cap, and doused Aaron’s arm.

White
foam hissed out of Aaron’s wound and off his skin, and the pain vanished
immediately. Casler poured until the bottle was empty.

Then
he sighed and squeezed Aaron’s shoulder. “You had me frightened,” he said.
“Let’s wrap this up so it doesn’t scar.”

Aaron
stared at him in disbelief.

At
that moment, Clive appeared at the foot of the stairs. “Father, are you busy?”
he said.

“Always,”
said Casler, still examining Aaron’s swollen forearm. “Grab a bandage for us,
would you?”

Clive
noticed Aaron in his father’s shadow, and his eyes contracted into white slits.
“Father, can I speak with you in private?”

“Get
the bandage first,” said Casler.

Clive’s
shifty eyes darted between them. “It’s urgent,” he said.

At
first, Casler didn’t say anything, but his fingers closed on Aaron’s wrist,
stiff as iron, and the low sound of his breathing rose over the machine. “Get
us a bandage, Clive. Aaron’s hurt himself.”

“Father,
you
must
listen to me.”

Casler
scrunched his eyebrows together, released Aaron’s wrist, and stood to his full
height. Slowly, he faced Clive. “I asked you for a bandage.”

“Father,
can you do it tonight?” Clive stuttered, pointing a trembling finger at Aaron.
“Can you to put him in the machine tonight . . .
please?
”

Before
Casler could turn around, Aaron raced past him and rushed the exit. Clive stood
his ground, but at the last moment, shrank away from him. Aaron shoved him out
of the way and lunged up the stairs. Up in the cellar, he flew past the
aitherscope. The intercom clicked above him.

“Dominic—”
Casler’s voice thundered in every room, a hundred times louder than it should
have been. “Make sure Aaron doesn’t leave. He’s hurt himself and I need to
treat him.”

Aaron
was already at the entrance, the door right in front of him. Freedom. But as it
turned out, Dominic Brees was drinking another glass of whisky in the kitchen
when Casler made his announcement.

And
Dominic Brees was the second fastest rugby player in the league.

***

Aaron
heard two sets of footsteps streak across the dark marble. He reached the door
first and yanked it open, but Dominic slammed into him and they both tumbled
out onto the granite steps.

Aaron
kneed the rugby player in the face and leapt up, and then there was nothing but
cold wind whipping through his hair. He tried to hurtle a dead rosebush, jammed
his foot ankle deep in thorns, and toppled face first onto the brick driveway.
Dominic went the long way, but the dark blur of his torso closed in fast. 

Aaron
veered toward the wilderness on the far side of the property. His thighs
burned, and his chest threatened to cave in, but he could hear Dominic right
behind him, panting, his hot breath on his heels.

They
plunged into the pitch-black forest. Branches materialized two feet in front of
Aaron’s face, like disfigured human limbs. Too late to duck. He lowered his
shoulder and charged through them. Splinters showered behind him.

Then
he shoved his foot against a root, swerved, and collapsed into the shadow of an
oak tree. Dominic flew by, oblivious, and his muddy splashes faded into the
distance.

Aaron
waited until there was silence, until only the restless clicking and creaking
of the forest could be heard through the trees, then he retraced his steps back
to the driveway. Beneath luminous rainclouds, a breeze rippled in the meadow.
He knelt at the gate and caught his breath, and inside his rib cage, his heart
ricocheted like a bouncy ball.

But
he shouldn’t have rested so soon.

Aaron
heard a click behind him. He spun, but too late. The fleshy hollow of Dominic’s
elbow clamped down on his throat. He felt the switchblade wedge into the side
of his windpipe, and then he heard wheezing in his ear.

“How’d
you get out of the well, number eleven?”

“I
climbed out,” Aaron spat. “It was easy.”

“No
way. Those walls are like a slip ’n slide.”

“Yeah?”
said Aaron. “My grandmother could have done it.”

The
knife’s pressure increased and Aaron struggled to breathe.

“Sounds
like you need a doctor,” said Dominic.

“Fine,”
said Aaron, “take me back to him . . . play his little lapdog.”

“Don’t
insult me,” said Dominic. “I don’t answer to any Selavio, and I never will.”

“Then
why’d you let him get away with it?” said Aaron. “He drilled a goddamn hole
through Justin’s head. I saw the body.”

“I
know what he did, fuckface . . . it’s the same thing he’s going to do to you.”
Dominic uncoiled his arm and shoved Aaron away from him. “Lucky for you, it’s
Clive’s birthday today, which gives you a one day head start to leave the
country. Now get off my property before I change my mind.”

“It’s
my birthday too,” said Aaron.

“No
shit,” said Dominic, “and you’re going to wish it wasn’t.”

***

At
four-thirty in the morning, Aaron scaled Dominic’s gate then stood terrified on
the dark road. In all directions, the street’s gloomy houses were concealed
behind knotted, cancerous growths of vegetation.

Instead
of being sound asleep like the street’s inhabitants, he was fifteen miles from
home, alone, with six and a half hours to make his appointment—and all he could
think about was Dr. Selavio’s hideous plans for Amber.

First,
he had to tell her.

Aaron
dialed her number and pressed his cell phone to his ear, but he got her
voicemail.

“You’ve
reached Amber,” she said, giggling. “If you want me to call you back, try
leaving a message.”

“Amber,
pick up your phone.
Please.
” Aaron snapped the phone shut, and a little
more of his hope evaporated. She was asleep like everyone else at this ungodly
hour, oblivious to the danger she was in.

Or
was
she oblivious? How often had Amber told him nothing and pretended
everything was fine? How often had she hidden her life from him so he wouldn’t
try to protect her? How often had she disregarded the future—because she didn’t
really have one?

The
truth was, Amber had known from the beginning—and that was the hardest part to
take.

She
knew she was being molded into a prize for the Brotherhood’s heir,
domesticated. That the undesirable parts of her would eventually have to be
removed. She never told him because she never wanted him to know.

Because
after the operation, the scar at the back of her head would heal, but the hole
inside her would not. Her eyes would be empty, extinguished forever of their
dazzling flare—like all the other juvengamy women.

Aaron’s
stomach did queasy somersaults at the thought. He had to get her away from
everyone. From Casler, from Clive—
from her father
.

With
trembling fingers, he dialed her number again. Again her voicemail.

 Aaron
slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Damn it, Amber
. He started
walking.

He
could go to the police. First they would interrogate Amber’s parents, then her
half, Clive. Both conversations would convince them that Aaron was just causing
trouble, that he was just a boy who had fallen for the wrong girl. He had no
proof.

And
in six and a half hours, the entire Juvengamy Brotherhood would be watching
her, the
heiress
. She would be untouchable. Aaron inhaled through his
nose, and the stale morning air churned inside him. Its usefulness was rapidly
ticking away.

Except
there was
proof. In the woods behind Dominic’s house, the body. Proof
that Dr. Selavio, the figurehead of Brotherhood, was a murderer. The police
couldn’t ignore a body—

Aaron’s
cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. Amber’s ringtone.

He
flipped open the phone. “Are you okay?”

“I
have something to tell you,” she said.

And
she sounded deliriously, impossibly happy.

0 Days, 6
hours, 29 minutes

Aaron’s pulse flickered.
He shut his eyes and breathed in slowly. She sounded just like she was supposed
to, like herself—
safe
.

“Tell
me later,” he said. “You have to get out of your house right now.”

“Why
did Clive have your phone?” she said.

“I
got it back.”

“
Obviously
,”
she said, her voice still bubbly. “Now aren’t you going to invite me over so I
can tell you?

“I’m
not home.”

“Where
are you?”

Aaron
stared at the moldy sky through a cage of dark, gnarled oak trees. Forty feet
ahead, the pavement veered into the murky wilderness.

“I’m
at Buff’s house.”

“You
are
such
a bad liar—”

“Because
I don’t do it all the time like you do,” he said. “Just meet me at his house,
please
.”

“Only
if you tell me where you are,” she said.

Aaron
sighed and stepped up to a lonely mailbox. He lit the number with his cell
phone screen. “Number twenty-two, Via Cordillera. It’s out in the middle of
nowhere—”

 “Stay
there,” she said. “I’m picking you up.”

Aaron
peeled the phone from his ear and stared at it in disbelief. Was she serious?
“Amber, stay where you are. Don’t come anywhere near this place.”

“I
thought you wanted me out of my house?” she said.

“I’ll
come get you.”

“So
you’re wandering around alone in the middle of the night, out in the rain, and
you think
I’m
the one who isn’t safe?”

“Good.
You understand,” he said.

“No,
what I understand is that knowing
you
, Aaron, you’ll probably get
yourself thrown down a well or something.
Bye.
”

“Amber,
don’t—”

But
she’d already hung up. He redialed her number and it went straight to
voicemail. Great, she was being reckless.
Typical
.