Chapter 12
Donovan is looking at me like a slack-jawed idiot.
I don’t know what his problem is, but I don’t have a chance to ask, because Max pushes past me and heads towards the stream.
“Do you think this water is drinkable?” he asks. “I’d give my right paw for more water.”
“It looks crystal clear, I’m sure it’s pure,” Theodora exclaims unscientifically, joining Max at the bank.
“Ooh, it’s divine,” she gasps, eyes widening like Bambi.
“What the fuck, pulu? You should let someone else be the guinea pig,” Feniks growls. “You don’t know what’s safe.”
"But I do, Alexis, I do!" she insists, continuing her wide-eyed thing. "I don't know why, but I just do."
Donovan says something cringy about her being perfect.
The way he fusses around Theodora makes me want to vomit. I can’t stop a snarl escaping. “Stop fawning. If she wants dysentery, let her get it. Rather the dud than me.”
The words have barely left my mouth when a shadow looms over me. Ludo doesn’t say a word—he never does—but plants himself between me and the girl like a wall of solid granite.
The bones in my face still remember the impact of that janitor's fist. I look at the massive span of his shoulders and his impassive features. The only man who has ever taken me down at Machete’s is a mute janitor.
He cares nothing for my status, family name, or money. I can see in his eyes the promise to snap my ribs if I hurt the girl.
For that, I have to give him a grudging, whisper of respect.
I take a slow step back, feigning boredom. “Whatever.”
A muscle twitches in my jaw as Max comes over and slings an arm around my shoulders.
“Dude, you’ve got serious pissy vibes coming off you.
Who shat in your biscuits?” He lets out a groan.
“Oh, fuck. Biscuits. Water’s great and all that, but I need to eat—stat.
Are you hangry, Cos? Is that your problem? "
I push him off me, annoyed that now the image of food is stuck in my head.
Theodora laughs. “Well, I did water, so maybe I can rustle up some snacks, too?”
She runs towards the nearest tree, followed swiftly by Feniks and Donovan. “Theo, wait,” Feniks hisses.
“Tee-Tee—be careful.”
Fuck Donovan and his nauseating affection.
His eyes widen with love-struck awe as she reaches out a hand. The tree branch magically fills with blossoms. That’s not all. A couple of seconds later, apples appear, hanging heavy from every bough. Grinning, she plucks one off like our very own Eve in this Garden of Eden.
How apropos.
I’m getting more and more certain Theodora Wilson is leading us all to our downfall.
She tosses an apple towards Maximus, a delighted grin on her face. “I don’t know what’s going on,” Theodora irritatingly gushes, “but it feels like this place is imprinted into my body, it’s part of my very essence. I understand it.”
“If you’re so at one with all this, why can’t you tell us where Wes is?” I ask her specifically to puncture her bubble. Wes’s absence is gnawing at me like rats on a corpse.
Her face falls, and I smirk, having accomplished my mission.
“Maybe I can, soon,” she says, biting her lip. “Hopefully?”
“Hope never got anyone anywhere. Hope doesn’t keep your fucking boat afloat.” I look up into the blue sky and realize I have an advantage in this search. Why didn’t I think of it immediately? “I’ll find him.”
“I’ll come,” Max says through a mouth full of apple. “Mission Impossible and all that. Doo, doo, doo, doo…” He starts singing the theme tune. “If I find Wes, maybe Theo will give me some appreciation, if you know what I mean.”
Max shoots me a wink.
Ugh. Please don’t tell me another one is obsessed.
“I don’t think we should split up,” Feniks says, like he has any say in my actions. “Having one missing person is enough, what if the two of you get separated as well?”
“I’m sure you’ll all be perfectly happy if I don’t return,” I reply.
No one contradicts my statement.
I turn to Max. “I’m going alone. Dragon style.”
My skin ripples, the beast surging forward to answer the call. Bones snap and lengthen, scales replace skin, and then, with a powerful thrust of my haunches, I launch into the air.
From this height, the world should be teeming with life. I scan for movement—a bird, a squirrel, anything to prove this realm isn’t completely empty.
Nothing.
The further I get from the group, the deeper the silence becomes. It’s not peaceful; it’s the silence of a terrified hostage. The trees below are frozen, their branches twisted into unnatural angles like broken fingers.
My dragon growls low in my throat, a vibration that rattles my teeth. He doesn't like this. He wants to turn back to the hoard—to the girl.
Shut up, I tell him. Find the twin.
But there is no sign of Wes. Just mile after mile of graying grass and a sky that seems to be pressing down on me.
On the horizon, dark clouds flicker with unnatural lightning. Some instinct tells me that’s the path I need to take. Why Wes would choose to head towards a storm, I don’t know, but I bank left, trusting my dragon’s gut.
The air temperature plummets. Ice crystals form on my scales, and a deep feeling of revulsion grows in my chest.
Cosmo—join us.
The voice isn't in my ear; it's in my marrow.
You can have everything your heart desires.
The wind whispers, sibilant and cold. It almost sounds like my father.
The power, the glory… what do you want, Cosmo?
A black and red haze clouds my vision. The answer rises up, unbidden, violent and hungry.
I want it all. To kill. To win.
A brutal blast of wind slaps my muzzle, almost like a sentient force blocking me from going further. The shock of the icy strike interrupts the hatred boiling in my belly.
Why am I so angry? What do I want to destroy?
Beat this wind, then join us, the storm tempts. Have everything you ever wanted…
I hover in the gale, buffeted by winds that smell of ozone and rot.
What do you want, Cosmo?
I want power. I want glory. I want…
I want…
…not to be alone.
The thought cuts through the red haze. This lure of darkness inside isn’t natural. It isn't me.
No.
I roar, a plume of fire erupting from my throat to tear a hole in the clouds. I spin away from the storm, banking hard, putting the darkness behind me.
My head spins. One moment I wanted to roast the world alive, the next I’m gliding over the faded grass, the air current gentle beneath my wings.
I look down. Donovan, Max, and the rest are staring up at me.
I’m back where I started. How did I get here so fast?
As I circle to land, the relief I feel at seeing the others hits me harder than the storm did.
Weakness, my father’s voice whispers in my memory.
I know better than this. Caring for others is a mistake. I opened my fucking idiotic heart to Wes and Donovan, and they abandoned me. I care about Aurora, and she’s become a pawn.
Why don’t I ever learn?
It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of first-hand experience with how friendships are a weakness.
My father’s office was on the eighteenth floor of his city high-rise. I didn’t often have to come here, but now and then, he’d get it into his head to give me another lesson in power and authority.
“You have to choose, Cosmo.”
I look at the unknown man tied and bound before me. His eyes are wide, pleading.
“What’s the choice?” I whisper. I don’t want to ask, but I know that stalling only makes things worse. Last time, he had me cut off all the accountant's fingers for failing to hide some money.
“Whether this man lives or dies.”
Oh, fuck. I know this can’t be so simple, but I cross my fingers and hope. I’m only eight, so I still believe things might come right in the end.
“Then…he lives.”
“Are you sure?”
I look at my father, at his ice-blue eyes. Please let this be OK. “Yes, father.”
“Very well.” Father clicks his fingers, and another door opens. A lackey is tugging a figure into the room. Wait! That’s…
“Ramond? What’s he doing here? Father?”
“Quiet, boy. You made your choice.” Ramond is crying, massive gulping tears.
He’s six years older than me, but still my friend.
He helps his uncle in the gardens. I know Ramond isn’t quite right…
quite right in the head, because mostly it feels like I’m his older brother.
But he’s funny and kind, and plays tag with me for hours.
“Father?”
My father, Tyrus Drakeward, nods to the man holding my friend. The next second, Ramond crumples onto the corporate carpet, a long, thin knife sticking out of his ear.
“RAMOND!” I run over and kneel at his body. Nobody stops me. “Why? Why? What did he do?”
“He did nothing, Cosmo. You made a choice. If the accountant lived, Ramond would die.”
“But you didn’t tell me, I didn’t know the rules.”
“There are always consequences for every decision, and it’s the strong who decide what those consequences will be. You don’t like it, then you fight to be the strongest in the room. Become the leader. I hope you’ll remember that in the future.”
I shake my head, the roar of the wind drowning out Ramond's scream in my memory. The past is dead. I'm alive. I tuck my wings and dive.
Father was right about one thing. The strong make the rules.
But right now, I don't feel strong. I feel like that eight-year-old boy again, watching a friend bleed out on a carpet because I didn't understand the game.
As I come to land next to the others, my eyes flick to the tiny girl covered in sparkles.
Is Theodora Fucking Wilson our leader?
Gods help us all.