The Liberator (A Dante Walker Novel) (Entangled Teen)

  Whoever is able to read this is the Secret Carrier. Keep this knowledge hidden in your heart until the time is right.

  Be patient.

  The Secret Carrier. My top lip curls up, because what am I—five years old? But on the inside I’m dancing my ass off. Me! I’m the Secret Carrier! I don’t know what the hell that means, but it’s probably up there with Trelvator Girl. Maybe even bigger.

  I knew my ass was special.

  No one can read the words except the kings, they said.

  Guess what that makes me? Pow!

  I drop the scroll to the floor, because my chest is three times as big as it was a moment ago. I need more space to be so awesome. There isn’t time in my busy schedule to be holding scrolls. Maybe someone should hold it for me. I’m the Secret Carrier, after all.

  Reaching overhead to the space I dropped down through, I start to pull myself up. I’ll let whoever finds this think there was a break-in, because I’m not ready to let on that I can read the scroll. Maybe I never will. Because that’s what it said, right? Be patient.

  As I’m about to wiggle up through the hole, something catches my eye. It’s a fold in the wallpaper that looks off. I mean, everything looks off. But this appears to be done intentionally.

  I let my arms drop and move toward the corner. Then I reach up and pull back the paper. It comes away easily. I have to squint to see, because the only light is on the other side of the room, whereas this spot is dark as sin.

  As the paper peels back, the area brightens. A little at first, and then brighter and brighter until I’m shading my eyes instead of squinting.

  Something flutters to the floor.

  A scroll—the real scroll.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, then snatch it off the ground. The paper feels weightless in my hand, like if I let go, it’d fly away instead of float back down. I flip it over. Then I flip it again.

  Nothing.

  It doesn’t say a damn thing.

  My pride deflates like a limp penis.

  …

  At seven a.m. the next morning, I’m about as pleasant as a freshly castrated bull.

  The first scroll was a decoy, set up to drive the reader into silence and to make them stop searching for the real thing. But the other one, that was real. Too bad it didn’t say dick. After realizing I wasn’t going to find anything out, I’d replaced the real scroll and returned to bed.

  And now I can’t wait to get to Kraven. Because I haven’t forgotten what he said last night: “They are out there.” Which means Charlie is too close to harm. Way too close. I have to get her soul back soon, but it’s a delicate balancing act. The longer I stay at the Hive, the more I learn how to survive on my quest. And I have to survive. At least long enough to hand her soul off to Valery or Kraven or whoever can turn it in.

  On the other hand, every minute I waste here is another minute I’m taking a risk. A risk that they will find a way in here and get to her. Then they’ll have everything. Her soul. Her body.

  And then what?

  Is she gone forever?

  I can’t think about that. Because I have a plan and I need to focus. Ever since I arrived at the Hive, things have been in Kraven’s control. But that’s about change.

  When Valery arrives, I’m ready for her.

  “I’ll be the only one attending training today,” I announce.

  “Whaaa?” Blue stands up, his mouth stuffed with a flaky crescent.

  I don’t take my eyes off Red. “I mean it, Valery. Take me to Kraven. Just me.” I square my shoulders, raise my chin, and wait.

  She must realize I’m serious, because she nods. Conversation explodes behind me as I follow her out, but I just close the door and keep moving. I don’t have time to explain.

  When we get to the training room, I ask Valery to leave. Her mouth pulls into a half smile, like she’s somehow proud that I’m making demands. I don’t understand this in the least, but I accept it.

  She turns to go, and a few minutes later, Kraven saunters in. He’s wearing white pants and a white sleeveless shirt. There’s a green belt cinched around his waist, and I’m a bit thrown off because I thought Miami was allergic to color.

  “We need to talk,” I say.

  Kraven inspects the training room. “Where is the other liberator? Sector two training starts today.”

  I lose my focus for a moment. “So, we passed the defense portion?”

  Kraven opens his arms as if to say, you’re still here, aren’t you?

  A smile hangs stupidly from my face. Then I shake it off, remembering why I wanted to speak to Miami alone. I straighten my spine until I can’t stand any taller. I may need a chiropractor after this. “I know the Hive is surrounded.”

  “It’s hardly surrounded.”

  “So you admit it.” I jab a finger in his direction. “They’re out there.”

  “There’s nothing to admit. You already knew.”

  I bring a hand to my hair and pull, trying to think this through. “Are they sirens?”

  Kraven nods.

  “You know about them,” I say. It isn’t a question.

  “Valery told me. They’re soulless, you know. They were collected the moment they agreed to work for demons, even if they didn’t really know who they were partnering with. It’s what they agreed to do that matters.”

  “The collectors have Charlie’s soul. We don’t have it.” I’m sure he’s already aware, but I need to hear him say it.

  His gaze turns to the glass wall, to the ocean beyond it. “I know.”

  “I’m going to get it back.” I close the distance between us so that we’re an arm’s length apart. “I don’t have time for this training sectors crap. You need to show me how to break into hell, steal her soul back, and return with it.”

  His raises an eyebrow at hearing my plan, which for him is the equivalent of tearing off his clothes and running around buck naked screaming, “Oh, man! Oh, crap! You just blew my effing mind!”

  “You’re going to go after her soul?” he clarifies.

  I shrug like I do this crap every day. “Yep, I’ll take a tank full of weapons and blow them all to pieces if I have to.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Kraven snaps. “Weapons were born of sin, and you will not use them. If you do, I can guarantee you won’t be wearing a cuff any longer.”

  This certainly screws with my plan, but on the off chance I make it back, I’m going to need my dargon to keep kicking. I hold up my hands. “All right, don’t get your panties in a wad. No weapons. I’ll just use these guns.”

  I show him my biceps.

  Kraven ignores me and rubs a hand along his jaw. “Your current assignment is very important. You can’t abandon that mission.”

  “Her name is Aspen, Cyborg. And I’ll liberate her soul as soon as I return. Hell, I may not even have to work that hard. Girl’s turning a corner, I think.” I pause. “Do you know why Aspen is so important to the dude upstairs? You must not, since you aren’t training her.”

  “We have protocol. The sectors are placed in a certain order for a reason,” Kraven says, following his own train of thought. Nothing new to see here, guys. “You won’t survive in hell without the training.”

  “Tell me you can teach me something valuable, and fast, or I’ll leave tonight.”

  Kraven snaps his teeth together. “I can teach you things, but you have to commit to the timeline. Three days for each sector, five sectors remaining. I need two weeks. You need two weeks. And that’s without adding on Amplification, which you’d probably want to—”

  “That’s too much time,” I growl. “Try again.”

  “I need two weeks, or I can’t—”

  I hold up my hand and, amazingly, he stops talking. Our eyes meet. “We’re done here.”

  Every nerve in my body pulses as I stride toward the exit.

  “Wait,” Kraven says.

  I keep moving.

  “Wait!” he yells.

  I’m almost go
ne when he breaks.

  “I’ll show you,” he whispers. “I’ll show you how to summon your wings.”

  With my face still turned away from him, I smile. That is exactly what I was waiting for.

  DESCENT

  “Demons exist whether you believe in them or not.”

  —Emily Rose

  29

  Outside

  I spin around and face Kraven. “How fast can you teach me?”

  He turns his hands palm up. “That’s the beauty of it, Dante. That all depends on you.”

  The way his voice rises, I can tell he likes this. That the ball’s in my court. I roll my head from side to side like Evander Holyfield, like I’m to go twelve rounds. “Bring it, Cyborg.”

  Kraven eyes me. “Think you’re a big man? Think you got what it takes?”

  “Damn straight.”

  He steps toward me. “Let me tell you something. There are eight liberators, all who have trained to summon their wings. What’s more, those cuffs have seen a lot of ankles. Yesterday’s liberators aren’t always today’s. You know how many of them have learned what I have?”

  I curl my hand into a zero and hold it up, because I know where this speech is headed.

  He surprises me and holds up a single finger. “One other liberator besides me.”

  Laughter bursts from my throat. “Oh, ho! Someone else is as awesome as you? Bet that twisted your panties right up.”

  Kraven’s lips form a tight line. “You’re not ready to learn.”

  “I am,” I say, swallowing my laughter. “I’m totally ready to wing out.”

  He circles around me like a wolf, analyzing my build. “You could be strong enough.”

  “I am strong enough.” My voice drops an octave. “I’ve already almost done it a couple of times.”

  Kraven stops in front of me. “Let’s avoid fictitious tales while we’re training, yes?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  He sighs so long I wonder if he’s got three lungs instead of two.

  “I’m not lying, Cyborg,” I tell him. “It hurt like hell. Felt like something was trying to tear its way out of me. And it burned.”

  Kraven cocks his head to the side. “I don’t believe you, Mr. Walker. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you try to summon them now.”

  I close my eyes and try to focus on growing Hercules wings. I’m doing a pretty good job imagining how wicked cool they’ll look when Kraven interrupts my thoughts.

  “I didn’t mean right this second,” he says. “First you have to clear your head.”

  I keep my eyes closed. “Head clear. Check. What’s next, sensei?”

  Kraven’s bare feet shuffle against the training mats. “Clearing your head doesn’t happen that quickly. You need to be sure you know who you are.”

  “Name’s D-Dub. Pleasure.”

  “You need to be sure you know, without a doubt, that you are a liberator. That you are ready to leave behind your old lifestyle. Are you harboring any old demons, demon?”

  My eyes open. His face softens, and the lines around his mouth relax. He grips the back of my neck. “Everyone has a past, Dante. Have you let yours go? Are you changed?”

  Heat creeps across my skin. He asked me a question, so why can’t I answer it?

  Because I know what lies in my heart. And I’m not ready to let it go.

  Kraven walks to the glass wall. His back is to me. “Do you call yourself a liberator?”

  My muscles relax. This is an easier question, one I can answer. “That’s what I am.”

  “Is it?”

  “What are you, my therapist?” I roll my shoulders to try and loosen up. This sudden change in topic is messing with my head. It’s like he’s already gotten in there, like he can read my mind or some crap.

  “I wasn’t always a good man,” Kraven says.

  “Are you now?”

  Kraven turns around. His dark eyes look past me. “I did terrible things, unimaginable to me now. But I repented. I embraced a new life. And because God is merciful, I was forgiven.” Kraven touches a hand to his chest. “Look at me now, a liberator.”

  I don’t believe Kraven ever did terrible things. He’s so Rule Book. But maybe that’s what made him do those things. Maybe he didn’t like it when others wouldn’t abide by his rules. Could that be why he rarely shouts, rarely even raises his voice? Perhaps his demon was his temper.

  “I never did terrible things.” My stomach rolls saying this aloud. I’m not lying exactly, but the words are heavy leaving my mouth, like I don’t believe them myself.

  “So you were a saint?” Kraven asks, his lips quirking upward. “That’s how you came to be a collector?”

  My hands tighten into fists. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

  “Wrong. In order to summon your wings, you have to dig deep inside of yourself. And if there’s something there that isn’t resolved, it’ll never work.”

  I bite the inside of my lip. “Then how did Rector use his wings?”

  Kraven averts his eyes. “His wings are not the same as ours. He uses all that darkness in him—all that blackness—in order to call them. You don’t want to do that. You don’t want to awaken that side of yourself.”

  Don’t I?

  “I don’t have anything to let go of,” I snarl. “So what’s next?”

  “Again, if you don’t follow the steps, this will never work.”

  I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “Listen to me, Kraven. I’m tired of your sectors, and of your steps. Show me how to summon my wings or I’m out of here.” My heartbeat throbs in my ears. “No. You know what? I don’t need this. What I really need is time. And every second I’m here, I’m risking the sirens breaking in.”

  “Do you know why you were chosen to be a collector?” he asks suddenly.

  My heart leaps, because it’s a question I’ve never truly known the answer to.

  “Lucifer believed you were strong, intelligent, manipulative. He believed you’d faithfully follow orders that satiated your own selfish desires. And more importantly, Lucifer knew that out of all the fallen souls in hell, that you in particular would never consider yourself redeemable. Six cuffs built for six people who fit that exact description. You were one of those six, Dante.”

  “How do you know this?” I say in a near whisper.

  Kraven turns on his heel and moves away from me.

  “And where exactly are you going?” I ask.

  “Follow me.”

  The SOB must be confident I’ll do as he asks, because he gets farther and farther away without checking to see if I’m behind him. I drop my head back and stare up at the ceiling. Then I groan and jog to catch up, thinking about what he said, wondering if it’s true.

  It’s true.

  We trek through the house without a word. When he reaches an orange door, he unlocks it and spins around.

  “Ready?” His grin sweeps from ear to ear.

  “For what?”

  “To play.”

  Kraven shoulders the door open, and sunlight slams into us. I shield my eyes from the sudden brightness. When my vision adjusts, I gaze across the horizon. We’re in the back of the mansion, patches of snow dotting the ground. A chill creeps in beneath my long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and the smell of salt fills my nose. There’s an empty expanse of dead grass and beyond it nothing except the ocean. But how far down is the water? Twenty feet? Thirty?

  A hundred?

  Kraven glides toward the cliff without hesitation. He doesn’t even have shoes on, the freak. I follow after him not because I think it’s the best idea, but because my racing pulse demands it. I want to be here. I want to find the sirens.

  I want to pick a fight today.

  I’ve been cooped up in that house for four days. Today is day five. The sun feels good on my neck, even if the cold bites at my nose and ears. I fill my lungs. Once. Twice.

  Walking after Kraven, my blood surges. Yes, I want this. This is what
I was reborn to do. Screw strategy, screw process. Just show me the fiend that wants to hurt Charlie and I’ll tear out his beating heart. Then I’ll eat it.

  Kraven gets right up to the edge of the cliff, so close I think he might leap off. I’m so hopped up on adrenaline that part of me wants him to. Would I jump after him? See if I can fly without wings?

  He spreads his arms out wide, and the wind rolling off the ocean tangles in his blond hair.

  “Come and get us!” he thunders into the open air.

  And I think, “Yeah. Hell, yeah.”

  After Kraven’s words are eaten by the tide, he waits. He waits so long I start to imagine there are bugs beneath my skin. That if I don’t move—if I don’t do something—they’ll devour me alive from the inside out.

  A small sound rings through the morning, the noise a stone makes when falling from a ledge to the jutting rocks below.

  It sounds again. And again.

  Something is coming.

  Kraven shuffles back, and I match his steps. We breathe hard, waiting for them to show themselves.

  A hand whips over the side of the ledge.

  And a man, tall with lanky arms and legs, pulls himself up. He’s wearing a steel-gray shirt, gray pants. If it wasn’t for his dark skin, it’d be hard to tell him apart from the stone cliff he crawled up from. One of his pinkies is missing. I wonder how he lost it. Maybe it was from antagonizing a German shepherd as a kid, or from an Indian cooking class.

  I lick my lips, nearly tasting the tension.

  My legs move toward him before I even think about what I’m doing. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel the crack of my knuckles against this guy’s face. But something behind him stops me.

  It’s another arm, pulling another body over the edge. A woman. She stands upright, cracks her neck.

  And then another arm. And another. And another and another and another.

  Sirens appear, slithering onto their bellies and then rising up like cobras. They’re mere humans who agreed to work for collectors. They don’t have special powers or the ability to survive where we don’t. I should take comfort in this. But there are too many of them. More than I want to count. I lean my head toward Kraven. “What are we going to do?”