Captivate (Unearthly Balance Book 1), Page 3

  “Fine.” She loses the sweet mom act in the snap of a finger. “I need a favor.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Whatever. Pretend like you don’t owe me anything. We both know you do.”

  “And how do you figure that?” I snap. “Because of all those nights I picked up your sorry ass from the bar? Or all the times you left me in the car in front of some sleazy motel so you could screw some douchebag for money because you spent all of our bill money on drugs?” My anger simmers at the memories of my childhood. “Or how about the time you tried to sell my virginity to score some heroin?” My voice trembles with rage. “Yep, I sure owe you.”

  “Look, I’m not saying I’m the best mom ever,” she replies, “but we had some good times, didn’t we? Not everything was bad.”

  She’s right. Not everything was bad. Up until my grandma died, our life was mostly good. We weren’t rich or anything, but she always made sure Bridger and I had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and clean clothes to wear. That all changed about a week after my grandma’s funeral when she went off the deep end and started spending almost every night at a bar. Eventually, her desire for liquor dissipated … after she got her first taste of heroin. Then, any ability to be a good mother was gone. She no longer cared about us, even when it became clear that Bridger was struggling with depression.

  “Just give him a pill or something,” she would say whenever I approached her about how sad he became. “He’ll get over it.”

  To this day, I hate her for not trying to help him. I hate myself for the same reason.

  That hate only grew when, about six months ago, my mom was arrested for prostitution and drug possession. Since it wasn’t her first offense, the judge sentenced her to seven years at the county jail. I had just turned eighteen and had already been taking care of myself for a couple of years, ever since Bridger sank into his depression and our roles had switched. Up until then, he was always the one to take care of me.

  Part of me, the naive part, hoped that her time in jail would turn her into the loving, caring mom she once was. On the contrary, even without drugs in her system, she remained the mean, cruel, heartless woman I’d grown to despise. It was a revelation I learned the day she called and asked me to dip into the trust fund my grandma left me.

  It wasn’t a lot of money, just enough to pay for college, plus a little extra, something I pointed out to her.

  “Look, I’ll find another way to pay for your college tuition. Right now, I need you to get me a better lawyer so I can appeal the charges,” she begged. “Get me out of here, okay? I can’t live like this.”

  I recalled every other time she pleaded with me to give her money; how easily I gave in, only for her to waste it on drugs. Rage fizzled to the surface.

  “And what happens if I do? Then what?”

  “What do you mean, then what?” she snapped. “Then I can get out, and we can start living our lives again.”

  “Will you stay clean?”

  She paused for a microsecond, but that was enough.

  I hung up and have barely spoken to her since.

  “Are you even listening to me?” My mom’s sharp tone slices through my painful trip down memory lane.

  “No, not really,” I answer. “I was thinking about other stuff.”

  “Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit. Are you going to do me the favor or not?”

  I consider hanging up on her, but stupid guilt creeps up on me. Damn my do-gooder side. Sometimes, I despise it.

  “Fine,” I surrender. “What’s the favor?”

  “I want you to come visit me.”

  “That’s all you want? There’s no catch?”

  “Of course that’s all I want.” She pauses. “God, Everly, just how bad of a person do you think I am? I can’t simply want to see my daughter after not seeing her for months? I really do miss you, no matter what you think.”

  I mull over her words, debating if she’s lying. Probably. Regardless, I find myself saying, “I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, I hope you decide to come. I’d like to see you—” She’s interrupted by a warning that says there are only thirty seconds left. “I have to go, but I’ll call next week, and you can give me an answer then, okay? Just make sure you really think about it. Think about all the fun times we had, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “I love you—”

  The line dies, and a drop of relief sweeps over me. The relief is short-lived as I realize that I’ll eventually have to make a choice: forgive and forget, or hold on to my anger.

  Dropping the phone onto the desk, I lower my head into my hands and massage my temples. God, it’s been an overwhelming day. I can barely keep my eyes open.

  “I hate this,” I mutter. “I’ve spent too many years stressing over her. Why can’t she just let me go?” Why can’t I let her go?

  Instead of getting an answer, I end up with a headache.

  Emotionally worn out, I stand up and drag my ass to bed. When my body hits the mattress, darkness yanks me under, and I wonder if I’ll ever see the light again.

  Chapter 4

  Nico

  After looking up her address online, I bail out of school and head toward Everly’s house. It’s a stupid move; I know that, yet I don’t care.

  Am I worried the gods are watching me and preparing to punish me for the act? Fuck yeah, I am. But part of me hopes that maybe the move will finally push them over the edge, and they’ll kill me. After living with despair for centuries, I think I’m ready for it to be over, even if death is the only way out. Perhaps a horrible thought, but it’s one that’s been crossing my mind more frequently with each passing day.

  Besides, I’m too worried our contact hurt her, and until I can find out if she’s okay, I won’t be able to stop thinking about her. If I hurt her, I’ll never forgive myself. She never asked to go through this. She shouldn’t have to go through this.

  Unlike me, Everly, and any other Balance, have no control over becoming what they are. It’s passed down through their bloodline. They didn’t piss off the gods, they didn’t start a rebellion; they were simply born with the wrong blood. Blood created because of me, the other servants, and the gods.

  She suffers because of me.

  When I arrive at her apartment complex, I park my motorcycle in the parking lot then allow my tattoos to ignite and make me invisible. Since my power is weakened from my little mental chat with Evan, I only have a limited amount of time before the magic runs out. If I’m not away from Everly’s by then, the gods’ll bust me.

  Make sure you’re out by then.

  That is, unless you just want to quit and let this all be over with?

  Unsure of my own answer, I take a deep breath before materializing in Everly’s living room, which is oddly bare. A sofa, a television, and a computer desk; that’s it. No photos on the walls, and hardly any sign that anyone lives here, except for an overweight cat sprawled out on the floor.

  As if sensing me, his back curls, and he lets out a hiss in my direction.

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t know what it is with you cats and hissing. It doesn’t scare me, if that’s your end game.”

  He hisses again, backing away and growling.

  I shake my head. Animals have never liked our kind. I have no idea why; other than maybe they can sense something off about us.

  Ignoring the pissed off cat, I shut my eyes and concentrate. Almost immediately, Everly’s presence courses through my veins. Gods, I can barely think straight as a desirable ache to free the sadness inside of me and surrender it to her overpowers me. Beneath the desire, though, an aching need to touch her, kiss her, merely feel her consumes me. The two feelings collide and nearly knock me to my knees, but I manage to stay upright and move to find her.

  After checking the living room and kitchen, I head down the hallway toward the bedroom. The door is agape, and I find Everly lying on her bed asleep. The sight sends an unfamiliar sensation thro
ugh my body, and my fingers once again long to touch her, run up and down her arms, her legs, across her waist. I want to trace those soft looking lips … I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

  It makes me wonder why, after three years of managing to keep my hands to myself, my willpower is now rapidly crumbling. Because I finally touched her? Or is this more of my punishment? Perhaps the gods let me off the hook so easily before, knowing the self-torment that would follow afterward. That I’d want her so badly.

  Or maybe they knew I’d want her, and then they plan to take her away from me?

  The last thought comes out of nowhere, and I rush toward the bed.

  Bluish veins highlight her pale skin, her deep red lips are slightly parted, and her eyes are shut. The only sign of life is the rise and fall of her chest with each soft breath she takes. She’s breathing. Thank gods.

  I know I should leave now, but I find myself sinking onto the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. She looks so beautiful with her hands resting on her abdomen, her long brown hair a halo around her head.

  I want to touch her again so fucking badly, feel that spark of life again, something other than misery. The magnetic pull I feel toward her is more potently powerful than ever. It’s so intoxicating that I have to stab my fingernails into my palms until I draw blood just to keep from reaching out and brushing my fingertips across her cheek, along her jaw, down to her collarbone. I think about that a lot … touching her everywhere.

  I observe her sleeping for a while. She’d probably freak the fuck out if she knew I was here. And if she knew the truth about me—about her—she’d probably hate me for all the moments in time to come. On that fact alone, I should leave her alone, let her live in peace, without some creepy, borderline obsessed ex-servant to the gods stalking her. However, I can’t find the strength to tear my eyes off her.

  I haven’t slept well since my ass was kicked out of the After Kingdom, and watching her sleep makes me want to lie down and close my own eyes. If I do, I may never find the will to move again. Therefore, about an hour later, I manage to drag my sorry ass off her bed and out of her apartment.

  The chill of despair instantly bleeds into my soul the second I step foot outside. And just like that, I feel it all. Each heartbreak, each loss of a loved one, each burden, each second of depression—every despairing moment any of the gods and their servants have ever felt becomes my pain. The agony, the darkness, the helplessness, the need to make it end—it tornadoes inside me and knocks the oxygen from my lungs.

  With my power weakened, I can’t fight the pain off. I collapse to my knees, gasping for air. Part of me wishes I could die and end the misery, but I never will, not unless the gods choose to kill me.

  Please, just let me die. I can’t take this anymore.

  “Ready to go?” Evan materializes in front of me with a loud whoosh.

  I glance up at him, struggling to breathe through gritted teeth. “Do I look like I’m ready to go anywhere right now?”

  He shrugs. “You look okay to me.”

  I stumble to my feet. “I barely have any magic left.”

  He eyes me over. I expect him to ask why my magic is so drained, but all he does is shrug.

  “That’s okay. We’ll use mine.”

  “And what about the cries?” I suck in a sharp, pathetic breath. “I won’t be able to block those out.”

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to endure them,” he says. When I shoot him a are-you-fucking-kidding-me look, he sighs. “Look, I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important. But it is. So suck it up and deal with the misery. You should be used to it by now, anyway.”

  Part of me wants to tell him to go fuck himself, that he can take whatever this important thing is and shove it up his ass. But I’ve known Evan for long enough to know he’d never go to the Thorns unless something major was going on.

  “Fine.” I regain my balance and unleash the drop of power I have left inside me, letting my tattoos illuminate.

  He smiles as his magic sucks us away.

  Chapter 5

  Nico

  I’ve been to the Thorns before, yet hearing the cries of the Banished never gets any easier. The noise is so unbearable that it’s caused some to gouge their own ears out. Some have been driven inside by the agonizing pleas for help. And I heard about one instance when a servant’s head exploded when they accidentally dropped into Thorns’ territory. To say I’m not thrilled about going there is an understatement.

  The second we land above a spacious area concealed by thorny vines, the cries of at least a thousand Banished stab at my eardrums and mind.

  “Help me!”

  “Save me!”

  “Please, stop the pain!”

  “Make it go away!”

  “Just kill me and put me out of my misery!”

  I immediately throw my hands over my ears, terrified of how much their pleas resemble some of my own thoughts.

  “I wish we could save them,” I say to Evan after a beat or two goes by.

  Lowering my hands from my ears, I peer down the bramble of thorns we’re hovering above, suspended in midair by Evan’s magic. If I leaned down and reached out, the vines would snag my wrists, weave up my arms, and drag me down to my final resting place.

  “That’s part of why I chose to go up against the gods. I wanted all of this”—I gesture at the bony, bloody hands sticking out of the thorns—“to stop.”

  “So do I.” Evan swallows hard. “I still do.”

  “Really? Because it sure didn’t fucking seem like it,” I say coldly. “You just stood by while we tried to make a change. And when we were caught, you helped them sentence us.”

  “I was stupid,” he admits, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I thought, if I stayed out of things, the gods would reward me … maybe free my family.”

  I shake my head. “You should’ve known they’d never do that.”

  “I know that now, but …” He huffs out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I’m not proud of my choices—I thought I was protecting my family—but things are different now, and I want to take down the gods.”

  “Why now? Something happened, didn’t it?”

  His eyes flash with fury. “The After Kingdom has changed since you left. The gods have gotten even more power hungry. They have been gathering more of us to become their servants. The male gods have also started ‘giving the honor’ ”—he makes air quotes with hatred burning in his eyes—“to some of the female servants, making them become their mistresses. And the female gods have done the same with the male servants. It’s not an honor, though. They’re basically forcing themselves on everyone, and those who fight back end up here.” He nods down at the thorns.

  My gaze descends to the thorns, and a nauseating feeling snakes through me. “What about my sister and brother? Have they …? Did they …?”

  He nods before I can finish. “Some of mine have, too. And my mother.” He opens and closes his hands, flexing them. “My father keeps talking about trying to kill the gods himself. He’ll never be able to do it alone.”

  A violent rage burns in my chest. I want to take the gods down more than I ever have. I want to stop the control. But how can I when I can’t even step foot inside the goddamn After Kingdom?

  “I’m surprised they haven’t killed your dad yet for just speaking about it.”

  “I’m surprised by that, too. I’ve tried to warn him, but with my mom gone …” His hands curl into fists. “He’s losing his damn mind.”

  We grow silent, taking in the severity of the situation, as the cries and pleas of the Banished haunt the air. The grey sky above us shimmers, contrasting with the darkness of the ground, as my head pounds against the screams.

  “So, what are we going to do?” I finally ask, wincing from the oncoming headache.

  His lips twist into a smile. “We, huh?”

  I shrug. “I figured that’s why you brought me here. What I don’t understand is how I’m
supposed to help you when I barely have any magic left. Plus, I’m stuck on earth.”

  His eyes darken as he lowers his voice. “What if I told you there is a way to break the curse?”

  My jaw nearly smacks the thorns below. “I’d say, ‘why the fuck didn’t you tell me about it sooner?’ ”

  “Because I just found out about it myself. Otherwise, I would have.”

  “And who told you about it?” I ask with suspicion.

  He hesitates. “Eirene.”

  “You took the word of a god? Are you fucking crazy?”

  “The God of Peace. She wants what we want. She’s tired of the After Kingdom being a place of control and misery.”

  “I know the feeling,” I mutter, massaging my aching chest, a weighted ache that never subsides. “I’m still not sure if I can trust a goddess, though. Or you, honestly. You betrayed me once. When I told you about the rebellion, you said you had my back. You didn’t.”

  “I know that. And if I could go back in time, I’d do things differently. But I can’t,” he says with a hint of remorse. “What I can do is help you now. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m sure you already know that. There’s a lot of challenges, starting with getting the curse lifted.”

  “And what about the other Unearthlies? Are they part of your plan, too?”

  “You’re the first I’ve talked to, but yes”—he nods—“I plan to talk to each of them and try to convince them to join me and Eirene.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be too difficult,” I assure him, thinking about how much I’d sacrifice to break the curse. Enough that I’m considering trusting a goddess and going up against the gods again. “If their punishment has been anything like mine, they will be more than willing.”

  “Is this your way of saying you’ll join us?” He arches a brow.

  I hesitate, but only for a microsecond. “Tell me what I have to do to break the curse.”