Wicked Hunger (28 page)

“Come on,” he says, and turns me back toward the truck.

Our steps are slow, terrified. When we reach the truck, my breath catches while Ketchup’s flows out in a rush. The bruises on her arms are thick where he held her down. Her neck is mottled red and purple. She’s so still, I’m sure she’s dead. My brain and heart have completely different reactions. I think my blood has frozen, still and unmoving along with my heart. My brain is racing through possibilities as it shoves away the horror of what just happened. My hunger stays oddly buried under my shock and disgust. I refuse to let any kind of sympathy color my judgment. She wanted this. I hate her for what she did, but while that severs any feelings of guilt, it doesn’t exactly help me figure out how to keep this a secret.

As I contemplate ways to get rid of a body—something I have unfortunately pondered much too deeply—Ivy’s hand twitches. The scream that bursts out of my mouth brings Ketchup’s arms around me in a fraction of a second.

“What happened?” he demands.

“She moved!”

“What?”

“Her hand moved. I saw it.” Seeing someone I thought to be dead move part of their body scares me half to death, but hope that I didn’t imagine it is ready to burst out of me. “Check her pulse,” I beg Ketchup.

Like a modern Prince Charming, he saves me from having to check myself. Gently, his first two fingers press against her wrist. He pulls his hand away slowly. “She’s alive,” he says. The surprise in his voice is nothing compared to mine.

“Are you sure?” I can’t imagine how Zander didn’t kill her. We must have taken at least a minute to act after seeing his truck. That was more than enough time for him to snap her neck.

“I felt her pulse,” Ketchup says, “and look at her lips. They were purple when we first pulled Zander off her. Now they’re almost back to normal. What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just can’t believe she isn’t dead. If it had been me
…”

“But it wasn’t,” Ketchup says harshly, as if he doesn’t want to imagine me in the same situation. He shakes off whatever mental image my words have conjured. “You said yourself, Zander likes to plan, or whatever. I think his overthinking bought her just enough time.”

I promise myself I will never say another negative word about the way his hunger leans.

The sound of jeans and sneakers rubbing against asphalt makes me jump again. I’m not alone. Ketchup whirls around in a hurry as well. I freeze at the sight of Zander stumbling upright. What will he do? Ketchup doesn’t know either, but he takes a protective stance in front of me, one hand poised to push me out of the way if needed. He’s sweet, but delusional. His KO punch a few minutes ago was a total fluke. If Zander is thinking clearly, I’m the one who’ll be doing the protecting.

“Zander?” I probe, when he gets to his feet but doesn’t say anything.

A sluggish movement brings his eyes up to mine. I can see his confusion clearly as his gaze sweeps between me and Ketchup. He takes in the truck, the backside of the theater. His eyes flick past me to the cab of the truck. His body tenses. In a second, I shove Ketchup behind me and hold up my hands, but he doesn’t move.

“No, no, no,” he wails. “Ivy. Where’s Ivy? What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Ketchup asks.

Turning just far enough to catch his eye, I shush him emphatically. He better not forget that Ivy isn’t the only one Zander wants to make a meal out of. When I turn back, my brother is shaking his head. Thankfully, he’s too confused to register Ketchup’s yum factor.

“What happened?” he demands.

I decide to give him the short version. “You ignored me when I said going out with Ivy was a bad idea, took her to a movie, and then proceeded to try and strangle her in your truck. Luckily, Ketchup and I figured out where you were and stopped you, although Ketchup did have to knock you out to make that happen.”

“Ketchup?” he asks, clearly in denial.

“Yes, Ketchup.”

He’ll never live that down, but his mind has already moved on to other things. “You stopped me?” He blinks, shakes his head again. “Does that mean…is Ivy
…?”

“Alive? Barely,” I admit.

His sudden panicked rush nearly catches me off guard. Luckily, I move quick enough to intercept him. “Zander, no!”

“Dude, you almost killed her!” Ketchup says. “What are you thinking? Stay back!”

“Please, I have to see her,” Zander begs.

I shove him hard, suddenly very angry. At him. At Ivy. At Mom and Dad. At Grandma. Fury at the lies and deceit that has led us to this moment boils over in Zander’s face. “You have to see her?” I shriek. “Have you totally lost your mind? You’re never going to see her again. Ever! This was all one big setup, Zander! Just like I told you it was. She wanted you in this position. She wanted you to kill her!”

I have so much more anger I want to throw at him, but the way my brother’s head suddenly drops forces me to pause.

“I know,” he says quietly. The anguish in his voice is thick enough to smother him.

I can’t find any words to respond, but Ketchup manages just fine. “What? You knew? And you still brought her here tonight? What the hell is wrong with you, Zander?”

“No, I didn’t know before I came here!” Zander shouts. “I didn’t realize until the last second. She pushed me over the edge. I tried to run, but she knew exactly how to bring out my hunger.” Zander’s face screws up in shame and disgust. “I tried to tell her I was going to kill her if she didn’t stop, but she…she smiled, and said she knew. And I don’t remember anything after that.”

Part of me aches for Zander. He must have given Ivy everything she needed to twist him into a hunger-crazed maniac. I can’t even begin to fathom how excruciating it must have been to feel so helpless. I’ve never had my hunger gain so much control over me that my own mind shut down. I hope I never do. My anger lessens in the face of his words, but Ketchup’s erupts furiously.

“You want me to feel sorry for you because Ivy tricked you? You want pity because she stirred up your hunger and you lost control? Screw you, Zander!” Ketchup shouts. “Van told you over and over again, and you didn’t listen. You had to have Ivy. That was all that mattered to you. Well, this isn’t just about you! If you would have killed Ivy
…” He’s so furious he can’t even talk. He takes a threatening step toward my brother, and I know I should stop him, but I don’t dare interrupt this.

Ketchup shoves his finger against Zander’s chest and my heart stops. I expect to feel Zander’s hunger spring to life. I’m amazed when it doesn’t. Zander doesn’t even say a word to Ketchup’s berating. Ketchup meets my brother’s eyes, and I’m mildly amused to realize he does so on even ground. When did Ketchup get so tall? I’m the only one who seems to notice.

Ketchup jabs Zander again. “I know, now, why you made Van break up with me.” Ketchup waits a moment to savor Zander’s surprise at that admission, but he has more to say. “Van chose you over me, because you’re her brother. But what thanks does she get from you? You cast her aside for the sake of some pink-haired kamikaze cultist! You chose Ivy over your own sister, and you damn near put all of your lives at risk! I won’t let your idiotic mistakes hurt Van anymore. If you would have murdered Ivy and gotten Van killed, it would have been a race between Ivy’s psychotic friends and me to see who could get to you first.”

What is more shocking than my normally easy going best friend threatening to kill my brother is that I totally believe he could do it. And so does Zander, apparently. He doesn’t even argue.  He nods, accepting the threat almost as if it was a promise he is grateful to have. That totally freaks me out. I’m about to pull these two apart when Zander’s head snaps back up. To Ketchup’s immense credit, he doesn’t even flinch.

“Wait,” Zander says, confusion wrinkling his face, “what did you mean about Ivy’s friends. And why would killing Ivy get Van killed? I’d be punished, not Van.”

Now I do step up and gently push Ketchup out of the way. Zander’s hunger has been subdued by tonight’s events, but it will come racing back soon enough.

“Zander, obviously I was right about Ivy, but you have no idea how right.”

I hand him my phone, and wait quietly while he flips through the pictures I snapped of her garage before Ketchup and I bugged out of there. The weapons, the altar, the book, the word Sicarius printed in her freaky book. When he reaches the end, he starts flipping through them again, but I start talking as he does.

“I don’t understand half of what we saw in there,” I admit, “but it was pretty clear that Ivy belongs to some kind of ancient group intent on killing us…all of us.”

Zander’s head snaps up. “All of us?”

“Ivy came here as a sacrifice. She had to get one of us to kill her in order to mark our whole family for destruction. But that’s not what I meant by all of us.”

Zander’s head shakes back and forth slowly. I nod in return.

“Zander, we’re not the only ones like this. There are more of us somewhere…and I think Grandma, and Mom and Dad, have known the whole time.”

I take my phone back and flip to the picture I took of our code word. Handing it back to Zander, I say, “Sicarius. It means assassin. That’s what they call us. If Grandma taught us that word, she knew about whoever it is Ivy’s helping. Oscar found out that Mom and Dad had been lying to us this whole time. That’s why he killed them.”

It’s too much for him. Zander falls against the side of the truck and presses his hands to his face. “This can’t be possible,” he says.

I know he’s reeling from everything I just dumped on him. In a few hours, I’m probably going to be curled up in a ball, banging my head against a wall when everything finally sinks in, but for now we still have work to do. I turn away from my brother to enlist Ketchup’s help. We both turn to stare at Ivy.

“What do we do with her?” I ask.

Ketchup shrugs. “She’s alive. You’re safe…for now. That’s all I care about. Let’s prop her up against the theater and get out of here.”

“What if we can use her somehow?”

“What, you mean like hold her for ransom so these
nut jobs will leave you alone?” he asks.

I shrug. “Maybe it would work.”

Ketchup pulls me against his chest. “As much as I want to keep you safe, I doubt that would work. I get the impression these aren’t the type of people you negotiate with.”

“You’re probably right,” I say with a sigh.

“So…” Ketchup starts.

His words get swallowed as Ivy moves again. My hunger rouses suddenly. Only Ketchup holding onto me keeps me from lunging forward. The rustle of her clothes snaps Zander back to reality. He’s hovering beside us an instant later, staring at his once-girlfriend turned suicide artist. I don’t know what to do. So I stand there staring as she pushes herself up to sitting. We all watch as her eyes blink several times, her hand reaches up to her bruised throat, and finally her eyes look up. Shock and dread spread through her features like ink in water.

The sudden whiteness in her face makes the bruises stand out even more. Her lips are still slightly blue when they fall open. “No,” she wails. “No, I shouldn’t still be alive.”

Actual tears start falling down her cheeks. None of us are prepared for her sudden burst out of the truck. She stumbles when she lands, and I don’t realize she has a phone in her hand until she rights herself and I see it shoved against her ear. I don’t know who she’s calling, but I lunge after her.

“
Fallimento
!” Ivy screams before I rip the phone out of her hand and crush it between my fingers.

Now that she’s awake, I want answers. I grab at her again, but she’s faster than I expected. I can hear sounds of help coming from behind, but I have no intention of missing her again. I dig deep for speed and burst toward her. I would have gotten her, no problem, if not for the panel van that careens around the corner and smashes into my arm. Pain explodes through my body as I crumple to the ground. I watch helplessly as the van door slides open and Ivy is swept from her feet.

I
try to tell Ketchup and Zander to follow the van, but neither of them listens to me. They both fall to the ground at my feet, flinging out questions.

“I’m fine!” I shout at them. “You should have followed Ivy.”

“You’re more important,” Zander says.

Ketchup’s answering scowl gets my brother’s hackles up, but I’m sure Ketchup’s earlier words are still too fresh for him to argue. Zander sinks back to his shame while Ketchup tries to inspect my arm. His simple touch makes me yelp in pain.

“Don’t touch it!” I snap at him.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see how bad it is.”

It’s bad, but I’ll live. “Let Zander take care of it, please. He knows what to do.”

Put out, but not stupid, Ketchup folds his arms over his chest. His eagle eye is zeroed in on my brother. He watches as Zander gently wraps his hands around my forearm. The sudden jerk and crack sends a wave of nausea through me. Ketchup nearly loses it. Only my hand grabbing a fistful of shirt and holding him back stops him from punching Zander again.

“He had to set the breaks,” I hiss though the pain.

“Breaks?” Ketchup asks. “How many?”

I wince as Zander manipulates another misplaced bone. “Three, at least.”

“Four,” Zander corrects. “One of your fingers is broken.”

Ketchup stops trying to glare my brother to death and turns all his focus on me. He shifts me gently so my head is lying in his lap. The soft stroke of his fingers on my skin leeches out the lingering pain. I sigh as my bones begin to stitch themselves back together. It still hurts like the dickens, but it is beginning to ebb. I let myself relax into Ketchup’s embrace just for a little while.

“Dude, are you sucking up her pain, or whatever it is you do?” Ketchup accuses Zander, interrupting my quiet healing time.

I open my eyes to see Zander still holding onto my arm, his eyes closed. He’s too absorbed to even answer Ketchup. When I see Ketchup’s mouth open to demand an answer, I say, “Leave him alone, Ketchup. It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt me at all for him to feed on my pain. Sometimes it’s the only way we can keep our hunger in check. After what he went through with Ivy, he’s got to be ravenous. Be glad he’s skimming off me and not you.”

He shakes his head. “That’s sick.”

“It’s what we are,” I say with a sigh.

A few minutes later, my bones are back to normal. Zander can feel it as well and sits back. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

Well, as fine as can be. Ketchup helps me back to standing, catching me when I nearly topple over. Healing that many broken bones is no piece of cake. He tries to sweep me into his arms like my personal white knight, but that one I do manage to resist. He continues to hold me up, but I turn my attention back to my brother. “Call Grandma and tell her what happened. I already called her earlier today and gave her the basics, but you better let her know we’re all alive before she does something rash.”

The look on Zander’s face is almost laughable. I don’t think I have ever seen him look so scared in his entire life. I have no sympathy for him at all. I motion for Ketchup to help me to the truck. He gets me there without complaint, but walking away isn’t as easy for him.

“I’m fine, now. I promise. Just go home and get some sleep,” I beg.

His head starts shaking. “Absolutely not. I’m coming with you.”

“There is no way you’re riding in the car with Zander.” Ketchup tries to argue, but I put a stop to that right away. “Look, I know he’s tolerated you so far tonight, but what you saw him doing with my arm, it’s not a good sign for you. He’s very hungry right now.”

“All the more reason for me not to leave you alone with him.”

I want to argue with him about this, but I can see by the look in his eyes that I am not going to win. Sighing, I give up. “Fine, follow us in your car. And when we get to the house, stay as far away from Zander as possible. I mean it.”

“Fine,” he says. Then he surprises me by darting in and stealing a kiss. It is so quick, but my heart rate spikes, turning my blood to champagne for a few precious seconds. His fingers slide away from me as he says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Zander stomps into the truck and yanks his door shut. The tension following him like a storm cloud is hard to miss. Something tells me this isn’t just about admitting to Grandma what happened tonight. He doesn’t make me pry it out of him.

“We need to go. Grandma sounded…strange. She said there’s someone at the house that we need to meet.”

“What did she mean by that?” I demand.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I doubt it’s good.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Ketchup says before darting off to his car.

The look I get from Zander threatens to be the start of a bitter fight. My whole body tightens to steel. “If you think you have any room to talk at this point, go ahead,” I dare him.

Wisely, he doesn’t speak. All he does is start the truck and begin speeding home. Every mile we go sends another shot of dread through me. What if Ivy’s friends thought almost dying was close enough? What if they already have Grandma? We could be driving toward a trap, but what else are we going to do? Leave her there to suffer on her own? Of course not
! The only comfort I can find as we drive is the unfailing presence of headlights in the rearview mirror.

I swear it’s hours later before we pull into the driveway of our house. Zander and I glance over at each other when we spot a shiny black sedan parked alongside Grandma’s beat up old Volvo. Seems a little bold for Ivy’s type of crowd, but we really have no idea what they might do. The crunch of gravel behind us announces Ketchup’s arrival, and two seconds later he’s at my door. By now, I can hop down without his help, but that doesn’t stop me from grabbing his hand. I am trembling as we cautiously approach the front door.

Halfway up the steps, Grandma appears at the door. “This isn’t a trap,” she says flatly. “I would hope my own grandchildren would have enough faith in me not to lead them to their deaths.”

“We’re just being careful,” Zander says.

Her answering look is scathing. “Well, it’s about time. I thought you’d forgotten the meaning of the word.”

Not that I don’t agree with her, but my heart pangs to see Zander turn in on himself. He shuffles past her red, ashamed, broken. Grandma’s only reaction is to shove a little more steel down her spine. Her laser gaze turns to fasten on me. For a moment, I can’t move. I love my grandma dearly, but she is the only person I am truly scared of. I can’t make my feet work under her gaze. I don’t know why I would be in trouble tonight, but I’m sure there’s some reason. There usually is.

So when Grandma’s lips start to tremble, and tears sneak past her control, I’m too stunned to react. She’s the one who has to come down the steps and swallow me up in a hug.

“Are you okay?” she asks when she finally pulls back and brushes away her tears.

“Yeah,” I say, still shocked. “I’m fine.”

Grandma grabs my shoulders. “What were you thinking going off on your own like that?”

“I wasn’t alone. I had Ketchup.” I know it’s a frail argument, but I appreciate how Ketchup’s hand tightens around mine in solidarity.

Grandma’s mouth thins, but she doesn’t argue. “Get inside, Van. This night isn’t over yet.” She turns to Ketchup, I’m sure to send him packing.

“Mrs. Roth,” Ketchup interrupts, “I’m not leaving.”

It’s a bold statement to make to my grandma. She does not take comments like that from anyone. So when she simply nods and walks away, I’m stunned all over again. Ketchup has to tug me forward in order to get me moving. When we walk into the house and see a suit clad man standing in our living room, I get the feeling the surprises are only beginning.

“Who are you?” Ketchup demands.

Whoever he is, he glances over at Grandma at Ketchup’s outburst. “Is this Oscar?”

“No, of course not. I already told you Oscar is being held at Peak View.”

The man looks back at Ketchup, his eyes hard. “Then he does not belong here.”

I can feel Ketchup’s entire body bunch up in anger. “Ketchup isn’t going anywhere,” I blurt out before he can start a fight with whoever this guy is.

“My business is with you and your siblings only.”

“Well, he’s as much a part of this as we are. He already knows everything we know,” I argue.

The man’s mouth twists into a smirk. “You know almost nothing, child.”

Child? After what I’ve been through tonight, I’m ready to slap him for that little remark. I hold my temper for once in my life and ask, “If we know so little, then why don’t you enlighten us?”

“I will, once your toy has been put away.”

I expect Ketchup to take offense. I certainly do. All Ketchup does is chuckle, much to everyone’s surprise. “Toy?” he says mockingly. “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”

The man bristles, but doesn’t respond.

Ketchup smirks at his reaction. “Fine. You don’t want to give up your secrets in front of someone who helped stop that psycho, Ivy—not to mention someone who knows enough of your secrets to start drawing some interesting conclusions and has the ability to spread what I do know—then don’t.”

I’m surprised when Ketchup’s hand releases mine. When he slings his backpack off his shoulder, I grab his arm in panic. I don’t know if he should do this. This guy may be worse than Ivy for all we know. But Ketchup ignores me and tosses the book we stole from Ivy’s garage on the coffee table. Nobody misses the way the man’s eyes light up hungrily.

“As you can see,” Ketchup says, “we’re doing a pretty good job without your help.”

The man reaches for the book, but Ketchup is quick to snatch it back up.

“You have no idea what that is!” he shouts.

“Maybe not,” I say, “but it’s obviously important to you. So either start explaining what you’re doing here, or you’ll never read a single word of it.”

It takes some serious effort for the man to reel his emotions back in. When he does, Zander takes the lead. “Who are you? Are you one of the people who sent Ivy after us?”

“Am I one of the Eroi?” the man scoffs. “Of course not. My name is David Monroe. I’m a Sicarius, just like you, though we don’t prefer that title.”

Zander and I both turn to look at our grandma. She tries to hold her ground, but in the face of our anger and blatant proof of her lies, she looks away with shame-filled eyes.

“Who are the Eroi?” I ask.

David’s mouth screws up in hatred. “The Eroi are a group of fanatics whose main purpose in life is to destroy every last one of us. Eroi means hero, a self-appointed title, to be sure. They call us the Sicarius, the Assassins, because they believe all we are capable of is killing. We use a different name. We call ourselves the Semidio. Literally it means demigods, but many of us in the U.S. prefer the term Godling. We feel it describes our hunger most accurately.”

After seeing Zander tonight, I have to agree about the appropriateness of the term.

Zander shows no opinion on either name, but asks, “Why did they come after us? How did they even know who we are, or where we were?”

“They came after you because the Eroi’s only purpose is to rid the world of Godlings. The young woman, in particular, came after you because she, and others like her, are promised untold rewards in the afterlife in exchange for their lives.” David stares at Zander, his eyes cutting into him. “Their methods may not make logical sense to you, but logic has little to do with it. What would you be willing to do for eternal glory?”

Nobody answers his question. We all continue to stare at him, distrusting and despising him. Zander repeats one of his earlier questions. “How did they find us?”

“How the Eroi found you here, I don’t know, but now that they are aware of you, staying here is out of the question.”

The whole room erupts at once. Grandma is furiously dressing down the man here to steal her grandchildren. Zander is refusing to leave Oscar behind, none too pleased with the idea of bowing to this cocky, arrogant jerk, either. My voice is thrown in as well, making sure everyone knows I have no intention of uprooting my entire life for some guy claiming to know everything.

Ketchup is the only one not yelling. It takes me a few minutes to realize that, but when I do, my own voice drops out of the argument. I turn to look at him, trying to gauge what might be running through his head in that moment. When I can’t figure it out, I say, “Ketchup?”