Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Izzy
Van’s face is pale. Wilder places his hands over his friend’s chest, closing his eyes, trying to focus. But Van’s breathing starts to rasp even worse than before, and then he starts to choke.
A rushing sound fills my ears, and I grip his free hand, even though it’s limp in mine. His eyes are wide, overwhelmed with fear, and he keeps trying to breathe, I can see it, but no air comes in or out.
Wilder tears Van’s shirt open. His face is intent, but I can see an edge of panic in his expression. He knows. He knows if his powers don’t work right now, his best friend is dead. Our Van is dead.
My gaze moves from Wilder to Van, and I try to hide my shock. Van’s chest is badly bruised, new, dark bruises blooming across his skin as we watch. He’s bleeding out under his skin.
We should’ve called 9-1-1 that very first second. Oh my god. Our desire for that damn painting might’ve damned Van to death.
No. The word seems to echo through my mind. Van isn’t going to die, because Wilder is going to save him. There can be no other ending to this.
“You can do this,” I tell Wilder, pressing my other hand into his shoulder. I almost jerk my hand back in surprise, but force myself to continue touching him. His skin feels hot under my fingertips, even through his t-shirt, like his magic heats his body.
He just needs to release it.
“Did they teach you anything yet?” I ask. “About how to use your powers?”
“Nope,” he says. “Just like you, we’ve been focused on the very useful power of burning things down. Just what makes sense at a goddamn reform school. But I do know how to access my magic, just not how to actually use it for something like this.”
Wilder’s voice is tight.
“Remember what the witch did,” I remind him. “You’ve got all the magic inside you. The power to command life and death, the power to heal.”
“I’m trying…” He bites his lip. “Odin says that if I let him take over, he’ll heal Van…”
My thoughts turn. We’re all afraid of what happens when we let the gods take us over, if afterwards we can stuff the genies back into their bottles.
But if it could save Wilder’s life…. I don’t know what to tell him to do.
What if we release Odin and he still doesn’t save Van?
The gods don’t exactly have a reputation for being kind or trustworthy.
Wilder’s hands shake, magic sparking at his fingertips, glowing golden. Golden magic arches across Van’s bruised chest, but even I can sense this isn’t enough. The god inside me knows what healing looks like and feels like, and he seems certain this isn’t it.
“Izzy,” Wilder says, his voice holding an edge of fear I’ve never heard from the confident golden child before.
He needs me. He needs me to give him the confidence to do this.
“If you lose control, I’m right here,” I tell him, my fingers curling deep into the muscle of his shoulder. “I’ll help you.”
If I can.
Suddenly, Wilder sneers, his lip curling back from his teeth, and that’s how I know he’s not quite Wilder anymore.
“I’ll help you,” he parrots. “Mortal children versus the king of the gods. Let me know how that works out for you.”
But his gaze snaps back to Van. His hands probe his chest, not gently this time, and Van lifts his head from the wall to scream.
His hands go to Wilder’s as if he’s trying to push him off.
Wilder’s fingers dig into his bruised chest as if he’s going to kill him.
Terror washes over me, and I almost scramble for a weapon to hit Wilder with, to hopefully knock Odin out of him.
Before I can, golden magic arches over Van’s chest. The heat that swells around Wilder spreads until it’s like we’re surrounded by fire, and the light from his hands grows brighter and brighter.
The bruises on Van’s skin fades, and suddenly, I can almost feel that his body has been pulled back together.
He draws a normal breath, his eyes wide, then takes several more rapid breaths before slowing his breathing.
“That hurt so bad, you asshole,” he says to Wilder, smiling. “Look what you can do, man!”
Wilder just stares back at him. Then he gets to his feet. He towers over Van without offering to help him up.
Hurt flashes across Van’s face, before understanding dawns. “Oh. You’re Odinized.”
I offer Van my hand, while trying my best not to look scared as hell at the idea that Odin is currently running Wilder’s body. Van lets me help him to his feet.
He rubs his hand across the place where his ribs were broken. “Man, I feel great. Energized. Wow. That’s better than having an IV to cure a hangover.”
I flash him what I hope is a bemused look, briefly glancing at Wilder, then quickly away. “You worry me, Van.”
He shrugs. “My parents pay a flat monthly rate for their concierge doc. Might as well take advantage of the ultimate hangover cure. Well...what I thought was the ultimate hangover cure.”
He slaps Wilder’s shoulder.
Careful, I think, feeling uncertain.
Wilder flashes him a warning look.
I’m not sure how much of Wilder is...Wilder… right now. And there’s no way for me to ask. If he could stuff Odin back in his box entirely, I’m sure he would.
Wouldn’t he?
Didn’t I feel good when Loki took me over? Powerful, playful, free. In a way I’d never been before…
But the guilt I felt afterward was like a hangover of its own, and it didn’t have an easy cure.
“Let’s see what trouble those idiots are in,” Wilder says, heading for the gallery.
I can’t tell if that’s Odin or Wilder calling Aiden and Reid names. Could go either way.
In the art gallery, the portrait hangs on the wall. It shows a goddess in a white gown, her foot on the chest of a man who looks up at her with awe--and maybe terror--written across his face.
Underneath there’s a tag that says Portrait of Veritas.
She looks up at the five of us as we crowd around, the portrait coming to life.
“What do you seek from me?” she demands, coming closer, her face filling the portrait. In the background, the man scrambles to his feet and runs away.
Her dark curls are wild around her face, and her almost-black eyes are equally wild.
A shiver of unease passes down my spine.
“We just want the truth,” Aiden says. He gestures toward Wilder. “Someone hurt our friend. They almost beat him to death…. Who was it?”
“Is that all?” She steps back and to one side, to the edge of the frame.
Wisps of her hair still tease across the portrait, as if blown by the wind, but we can see what’s behind her clearly.
The scene with Wilder fighting back, as hard as he can, only to finally be knocked to the ground and kicked and beaten.
The sight makes my heart harden with rage.
“Show us their faces,” Aiden says roughly.
“Are you sure you want to know?” she asks, her voice musical.
“Yes,” Aiden grits.
The portrait zooms in on one face after another; their fangs are out, their eyes vicious, their faces frozen in moments of gleeful cruelty as they attack Wilder. In one of the frozen frames, Wilder’s blood splatters across the face of his attacker, who is grinning fiendishly. It makes me sick.
It makes me want to kill the ones who hurt him.
“We’ve got company.” Reid is suddenly at our sides; he’d been roaming around, checking out the rest of the gallery. “There’s a night watchman. He just came back into the warehouse…”
“I’ll deal with him,” Wilder says grimly. He heads back.
I never even got the chance to ask about my mother and my sister.
“No, Wilder.” I grab his arm, feeling loss sweep through me. Who knows if we’ll manage to get back in here again? “We have to hide. We can’t hurt anyone.”
“I think they’re gonna notice the rubble we left behind, Iz.” Van jerks his thumb at the scene of devastation in the hall. “I’m not sure we can run.”
“Who’s in there?” a rough voice calls.
Aiden turns, his face furious over his shoulder. “I want answers.”
“I know the answers you seek most.” The musical voice from the painting sounds amused, and despite the ticking clock on the night watchman, she sounds so malevolent that I can’t help looking back at her. “I know the answers to the questions you fear to ask, Aiden.”
It makes sense that Veritas would know our names, but it still freaks me out.
“I’ll trick the watchman,” I say, my fingertips digging into Wilder’s arm to hold him back. It’s my only chance to save the watchman. All of us are so angry right now, so scared about what happened to Wilder and Van. “You stay and ask your questions. Then be ready to run.”
And if there’s time, I’ll ask my questions.
Reid flashes me a worried look, but I give him a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes.
I’ll give up what I want most to protect these men…even from themselves.