Captivate

  “Even without their needs—those pixies you imprisoned are going to want revenge.”

  “Nobody is hurting my friends.” I rip open some real sugar and put that in this time. I clank it around with a spoon, watch it disappear, just get swallowed up, taken away.

  I let that sink in for a minute and then I move on. “Okay. Fine. About the kissing?” I stare into his eyes. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  Pixie Tip

  It is a myth that pixies glitter. Only the kings leave behind glitter trails. The rest don’t sparkle or glitter or anything like that. Maybe they suffer from glitter envy.

  After he eats, he won’t let me walk back to my house. Instead we head out to the alley again. The pavement is cracked and desperate looking. Patches of ice cover pieces of the ugliness.

  “I can run back,” I say, even though I know it’s dangerous and it’ll take forever, but there’s this tiny kernel of hope in me now and I feel energized, like I could do anything. I can get Nick back maybe. I could find him. That is, if Astley is telling the truth, if it’s not all some massive, horrible trick.

  “You have no idea how hungry and angry they are,” he says disdainfully when I suggest running. “They will find you.”

  So he flies me home. I close my eyes the entire way and think about Nick, wonder what he’d feel about all this. He didn’t make my choices for me when he was here and he’s not going to start now. But still, I wonder. Will he still love me if I turn? My mood swings from hope to despair, back and forth with each gust of wind.

  “Hold on, we’re landing,” Astley grunts. He flops into the snow. He tries to keep my arm from bumping into him too hard.

  I hop up and start running for the house. He’s still flat in the snow. One of his arms sank in up to his shoulder. The rest of him is all sprawled out and totally undignified looking.

  “Thanks!” I dash up the steps.

  “I’ll see you at nightfall,” he says, sitting up, brushing off his clothes.

  My hand goes to the door.

  “Be careful. Daylight will not keep them away when they are like this,” he says.

  I rush into the house and slam the door behind me. Leaning with my back against it, I try to take some deep breaths. My hands are shaking. They’re still dirty. Everything about me feels dirty and contaminated.

  “Nick,” I whisper out his name. There’s no answer. I close my eyes and try to feel him. I swear I almost can. I push away from the door and head to the bathroom. I will shower. I will shower and think. I will shower and think and not shake. I will shower and think and not shake and I will imagine what it’ll be like to see Nick again. What it’ll be like to hold him against me, to kiss his face.

  It has to be possible. It has to.

  It’s in the shower that I really think about what it means to be pixie kissed. I won’t be me anymore. I won’t be human. My teeth, my skin, the way my mind works, will all probably change. I have to believe I’ll still have my same old soul, right? I have to believe that.

  The water chugs down, burning hot. The room smells sweet and clean. I grab the shower gel and squirt it onto a loofah, trying to scrub myself clean. There are so many variables. Astley might be lying. I might die if I get kissed. I might not find a way to Valhalla. Nick might not want to come back.

  The weight of the water presses against my skin. I shut the faucet off and stand there, dripping. My stomach screams inside of me. I have to do this, really. There is no other choice. I eventually dry off and pull on some wind pants and my favorite pink hoodie that zips up and says CHARLESTON in big white letters across the front.

  When I go into the living room I’m surprised to see that Issie and Devyn are on the couch. Issie’s shaking. Devyn’s got his arm around her. They both look up at me. Issie’s eyes are haunted, filled with fear. Devyn looks like he’s strung out on crack or something. They must’ve heard about Nick somehow.

  “You’re blue,” they both say.

  “I know.” I brush their words away and sit on the couch next to Issie. “Did you hear?”

  At the same time Issie says, “What happened to Nick? Oh man. He wasn’t on the bus, was he? No, of course he wasn’t on the bus. Those were band kids from Sumner. Nick is not a band kid from Sumner.”

  Frustrated, I kneel in front of her, try to put together her info with what I heard at Martha’s, and about Betty being at an accident.

  “There was an—at—” She breaks off. Her body leans forward. She hides her head in her hands.

  Devyn rubs little circles on her back. “There was an attack. Issie saw it. There was a bus and pixies attacked it.”

  I try to put his words together with what I know about Gram and the lights I saw on the road when I flew by with Astley. It still doesn’t make sense. “They attacked an entire bus?”

  “It was an ambush. One stood in the middle of the road. Her clothes were dirty and ripped,” Devyn explains.

  “She looked like she’d been hurt,” Issie whispers. “She was waving for help. The bus driver pulled over.” She keeps her head in her hands. “I keep seeing it over and over again. I was coming from the other direction. It was on that long, straight part of Route 3.”

  Her voice shakes.

  “Do you want some water? Let me get you some water.” Devyn gets up and walks without canes to the kitchen.

  “The bus stopped. The door opened. A couple of people came out to help the pixie. She had fallen to the pavement. And that’s when—It just—It was bad. They came out of the woods. They came from everywhere. And the screaming . . . I could hear it even though I was in my car.” She starts sobbing.

  “Did you stop?” I ask.

  “Of course she didn’t stop!” Devyn yells. He calms down and says, “I have some water for you, Is.”

  She looks up and takes it. Issie’s hand shakes so much that she might drop the glass. “I called 9-1-1 and said there was an accident and I called Betty, but . . . I kept driving. I kept driving.”

  Devyn takes the glass out of her hand and puts it on the floor.

  “It was so bad,” she whimpers.

  “Shh . . .” He soothes her. “I know. I know.”

  She cries for a minute and then her sobs get a little quieter. Eventually, she hiccups. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” Devyn says. He stares at me and pulls me aside. “One sec, Issie.”

  We stand by the kitchen sink. There are stains on the shiny metal.

  “What is wrong with you?” he squawks. “You aren’t even comforting her.”

  I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  Now it’s my turn to lose it. I don’t know what to say. My mouth moves. Nothing comes out.

  Issie walks in and turns on the faucet to fill her glass up. “Wait. Where’s Nick?”

  “And why are you blue again?” Devyn’s voice is an accusation.

  I close my eyes for a second, pull in a breath, and tell them. It takes a while, but I do it. I tell them about Nick being taken away, about how I couldn’t save him, not then.

  Devyn’s skin pales and he sways. He puts his hands through his hair, frantically, over and over again like a madman. His phone gives a text alert. He doesn’t check it. Instead he just keeps at it with his hair. “You mean he died?”

  “He was almost dead. I don’t—She took him. She said there was no way to save him,” I try to explain. Each word pains my mouth.

  Issie shakes her head. “But Nick can’t be dead. He’s our hero. Our alpha male. Our—” “Issie!” Devyn tries to interrupt her.

  She glares at him. “What? He was! Am I not allowed to be upset?” She crumples, wraps her arms around herself. “I can’t believe he’s gone. Oh, Zara, I’m so sorry.”

  She tries to hug me but I don’t want hugs right now. I want plans and action. “There’s a chance to bring him back if I turn pixie.”

  “What?” Issie’s mouth drops open and I begin the long explanation. As I’m talking, tears stream down Issie?
??s and Devyn’s faces. I just can’t let myself go there now.

  When I’m done, Devyn groans. “He’ll hate that.”

  “I don’t care,” I insist. “I don’t even care if he’ll hate me, but I have to do it. I have to get him back here.”

  Issie brushes her hair off her face and wipes her eyes. “Oh, Zara, you’ll be a pixie. That’s what you’ve been so afraid of.”

  I nod so much that it’s like my whole upper body is bobbing up and down. “I know.”

  They stare at me and give me all the objections I already know. I’m hurt. I could die if the kiss goes wrong. If it goes right I’ll be forever changed.

  “We don’t know what it means, even,” Devyn insists. “I’ve read you’ll be beholden to the king.”

  “Like his slave?” Issie asks. “Creepy.”

  “He won’t do that,” I say. “Astley’s not like that.”

  Devyn leans back into the couch. His voice fills with frustration. “You don’t know him. He could be tricking you.”

  “He could,” I agree. But my mind is already made up. They know that. “I have to try. You know I have to try.”

  “But—,” Devyn starts.

  “It’s Nick.” My voice breaks.

  Issie’s hands grab mine. “I know, but, Zara? How do you know you aren’t fooling yourself that—that—it isn’t impossible?”

  “I don’t.” We meet eyes. Hers are full of so much worry, so much sorrow. “We’ll have to call his parents,” I say.

  Devyn and Issie exchange a look.

  “What?”

  Issie gulps. She leans forward and says, “Zare, Nick’s parents are dead.”

  “No they aren’t. They’re photographers. They’re in Africa on some extended shoot for Animal Planet or something.” I zip my hoodie all the way up to my neck. Nick would say I’m in “geek mode.”

  “No, sweetie. That’s the lie.” Is pats my leg. “The truth is that they’re dead.”

  “But—but—” My brain can’t wrap itself around what she’s saying. “We’ve talked about them—talked about them coming home and how Nick feels with them being gone.” I point at Devyn. “You’ve talked about it too.”

  Devyn cringes. “He wanted us to play along. So, we played along.”

  “But why? That makes no sense.” I look from one to the other.

  “Well, it’s what he tells everyone,” Issie starts to explain.

  “I’m not everyone!” I pull my knees down, slam up off the couch. “I am the love of his life. I mean”—I totally lose my composure—“I’m supposed to be the love of his life.”

  “Aw, Zara, honey . . .” Issie comes after me, wraps her arms around me. “You totally are. You are the love of his life.”

  “Then why did he lie to me?” My words grump into the air, angry and hard and confused.

  She looks to Devyn for help. “Because you weren’t always the love of his life and he didn’t trust you at first. So, he just gave you the same line he gave everyone else.”

  “And then he never trusted me enough to tell me?”

  “People become trapped in their lies,” Devyn explains. “He was trapped. I’m sure he wanted to tell you.”

  I let the words sink in for a second. They don’t make me feel any better.

  “So what happened to his parents?” I ask.

  Issie twitters like a nervous bird. “They died at home. I think—Well, okay—The truth is that Nick’s dad went crazy. He shifted and attacked his mom. Then Nick killed him.”

  That stops me. “Nick killed his father?”

  “He shot him,” Devyn explains. “He had no choice. His dad had turned feral. It”—he sneaks a look at Issie—“happens sometimes, not just to wolves but to all of us. It’s like a virus, like the flu, but it hits shifters.”

  “But he . . . he murdered him? He murdered his father? And his father murdered his mother?” My hand covers my mouth and I stagger back. My shoulder bumps into the fireplace. I stay there and let it hold me up.

  “He. Didn’t. Murder. Him.” Devyn’s face turns red. “Nick had to do it.”

  “What do you mean, ‘he had to’?” I move forward. “Because that’s always the only option, right? It’s all kill or be killed, right? To hell with science and medicine or even just regular old jail and police, right?”

  “He had no choice,” Devyn insists. “His father was wolf. He was feral. There is no cure. He’d have killed Nick next anyway. The rules are different for us, Zara.”

  “For ‘shifters’?” I snark and make air quotes.

  “Really, Zara,” Devyn snaps back. “Stop being such an idiot.”

  Issie pops up. “Devyn! Don’t call her an idiot!”

  “She’s being one,” he says.

  “It’s mean.” Issie’s lip shakes. “You’re acting cruel. We’re supposed to be friends. We’re supposed to band together.”

  “You’re right.” He makes a pretty obvious effort to control himself. “I’m sorry, Zara. I’m just so insane with worry. I’m sorry.”

  I wave his apology away. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Issie shuts her eyes hard for a second the way she does when she’s trying not to be upset and says, “We aren’t sure why Nick didn’t get the virus, but it’s really really good that he didn’t, and neither did Devyn or his parents and now his parents are trying to find a cure down there in their monster lab.”

  “They’re trying to do a lot of things, Is.” Devyn scratches at his reddish neck where his shirt collar meets his skin.

  Issie comes over and puts her hand on my shoulder. “I am so sorry he’s gone, Zara.”

  I whip away. “He’s not gone. I’m getting him back, even if he did lie to me like a total jerk.”

  Her hand drops to her side. She shakes her head. “Zara—”

  “I’m really mad, okay, Is? We’re always going on about the pixies being liars, but look at us. Nick lied—a big one—Devyn never told me about his parents and his house. You and I lied by omission when we didn’t tell them about talking to my father.”

  “We told them eventually,” she protests.

  “Not right away. They are lies by omission, but they’re still lies and Nick’s was pretty big.” I blink hard a couple of times and take a deep breath. “Still, we need him to fight and you know I can do it,” I insist. “I can go there and get him.”

  “That pixie could be tricking you,” Devyn says. He stands and grabs his canes. “It’s the most likely scenario, you know that. You can’t trust pixies. Think of all the manipulation your father did to get your mother.”

  “Astley is not like my father.”

  “Oh man, Zara, are you trusting him?” Is says. “You aren’t, are you? Please, please, please tell me you aren’t.”

  “Zara, think.” Devyn glares at me.

  “Do not tell me to think. I am thinking! You are not the only one capable of thought, Devyn. I am not an idiot. My choices may not be yours. Our morals may not be the same, but I am not dumb.” My voice is harsh. I try to calm it down. These are my friends. “I have a chance to get him.”

  “At best, if it isn’t all some big farce, you will turn pixie!” Devyn says. “You won’t be you and Nick hates pixies.”

  “I have to take that chance,” I whisper. “I have to take that chance to save him.”

  Devyn shakes his head. “We need you here, fighting.”

  “I know you do, but . . .” I stumble for reasons. “Gram will be here. Mrs. Nix. And I will bring Nick back and we’ll be stronger. I’ll be stronger as a pixie, fight better.”

  “You could go all crazy like the ones who attacked the bus.” Issie shudders. “Have you thought about that? You could hurt us or anybody.”

  “I’ve thought about that,” I say.

  Devyn lifts an eyebrow. “And . . .”

  “And if that happens—at the slightest sign of that happening—you are going to kill me.”

  Pixie Tip

  Pixies do not just live in England.
That’s a big lie. They are everywhere.

  I call my mom to warn her. Because let’s face it, my biological father is hungry and need-filled and when that happens he tends to want my very human, very vulnerable mother, the woman he’s decided should be his queen.

  It’s like a miracle that I get through, because she’s on the outer banks and the reception is horrible. Like here, there are not nearly enough cell phone towers. I hate that.

  I tell her what happened but I leave out the parts about Nick and my plan. I already have to deal with Devyn and Issie not liking it. Instead I try to pump her for information about the bus accident and why that would happen.

  She clears her throat. She always does that. “When the pixie king needs to feed he picks a young male and bleeds him. You saw that with Jay Dahlberg.”

  “Okay. Then explain to me what’s going on with this accident.”

  “I guess this is what happens when the king is weak or uncaring and the pixies go wild. Say what you will about your father, Zara, but he had some control over himself and he had a lot of control over the pixies he ruled.”

  “You’re talking as though you like him.”

  She sighs. “I don’t. It’s just . . . He tries very hard to be civil, to be kind, when it’s not the easiest thing for his nature to let him be. I’ve got to credit him for trying.”

  “Yeah. That’s like giving credit to a serial killer for only murdering people every other month.”

  “Zara, it’s not the same thing.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  I know her so well that I can predict what she’s doing. Right now she’s crossed her legs at the ankles. She’s running one of her small hands through her hair. “You are just like Daddy.”

  I know she means my stepdad, the one who raised me, the one who died. “I hope that’s true.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was a hero.” I let that settle in. I push my hand against my topsy-turvy stomach. Nothing will settle it down. I want to tell her what I’m going to do but I can’t.

  “Are you going to be safe up there?” she asks. “I know you’re worried about me, but I—I’m worried about you, honey.”