Officer Shaw watches me as I slowly get out of the van. I quickly close the door behind me, hoping he doesn't see the mess that's inside.
"Do you know how fast you were going?" he asks me.
I shake my head and try to give him my most charming smile. "Why, no, officer," I tell him, "but I'm sure I wasn't going nearly as fast as you were when you had to catch up to me."
He scoffs, a break in his formality, before returning to his stone-cold stare. "I wouldn't have had to chase after your vehicle if it wasn't already violating safety laws."
"Well, we both know that's not the whole truth, officer." I wait a moment before continuing, relishing the confusion written on his face. "You were following me since that gas station I stopped at a couple miles back. I suggest you fess up and drop the sheriff act."
"Do you know that you can do what you do?" he asks cryptically, taking a step closer. "How long have you known?"
"Known what?" I ask sweetly. "That you were following me for several miles?"
Shaw chuckles, taking a step closer until he's leaning down close enough to where I can feel his breath on my face. "That you are special, different. You're a Convincer, eh? One little sentence and everyone's doing your bidding?"
I try to back away from him, but his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You'll be a good addition to the others," he says, more to himself than me. He smiles at me. "Don't you know you want to kiss me?"
Before I can process what's happening, I'm leaning towards him and soon his mouth is on mine. He pulls away and then hops into the front seat of my van while I stare at him like an idiot.
Mindlessly, I get into the passenger's seat. "What was that?"
Shaw chuckles as he starts driving away. "That, darling, was the work of a good Convincer playing off your emotions. You'll learn more where we're going."
Ascendants of Olympus Update
I just released the seventh chapter of Ascendants of Olympus, if you've been following the story, and I realized I didn't put the name on it. This seventh chapter is Persephone, just so there's not any confusion. Thank you for bearing with me and my chaotic mess of a mind.
I’m so tired of being trapped in here while Mom gets to go out, socialize, and make friends. No more. I’m sick of feeling trapped. Anyways, how much could a quick library trip hurt anyone? Especially if nobody notices I’ve left.
Mom is still sprawled out on her bed. I’m sorry Mom, but I don’t want to feel stuck forever.
The bright sun rays shone through the library’s long windows. The bright light was almost strong enough to blind me. I have to open the heavy doors with my eyes barely open to avoid the sun's rays.
“You again?” Moira teases, waggling her pointer finger in my direction. I smile back at her. I can’t even count how many times I’ve snuck out here to see her.
“Just browsing,” I reply, starting down an aisle of books. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the elderly woman shaking her head with a smile. On my knees, I pull out the same book I’ve grabbed possibly a hundred times before. A cold chuckle comes from the end of the aisle. Slowly, I rise to my feet to meet the owner of that laugh.
A tall, lean man stares at the floor unwaveringly. He looks to be about my age, if not, then he’s barely older than me.
“Ha, you look like the type to be in the library as soon as it opens,” he says snidely. “No friends, huh?”
I clear my throat. “I have friends. Tons of them, actually.”
“I don’t think that books count as actual friends,” he challenged.
I approach him quickly, jabbing a finger at his chest. I keep my finger pointed at him until he looks at me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to get rid of some of the hostility in my voice.
He bites his lip, not looking like he’s going to answer me. I step closer to him, clearly making him nervous, as we are barely a foot apart from each other now. “Other than annoying citizens so early in the morning,” I add. The light in his eyes dim.
“Thinking,” he replies quietly. Raising an eyebrow, he adds, “Though I was hoping there’d be no pretty girls annoying me in the library.”
I punch his arm roughly. He looks at me with a pained expression. “What was that for?” he asks, wincing in pain. I roll my eyes.
“You said I’m bothering you,” I say, crossing my arms. “Which I’m not.” I turn away from the man. Long, slender fingers grab my arm tightly and twirl me around to face him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking askance. “I’m just not great at…people. Talking isn’t one of my strong suits.”
He looks down at where he’s holding my arm, and despite my intentions to keep calm, my face burns at his blank stare. I’m sure he can read every emotion that crosses my face, which is irritating since I can’t guess how he feels. I look away from him.
“I’m fine,” I mumble. Pulling myself out of his entrancing gaze, I ask, “What did you come here to think about?”
There’s about a twenty percent chance that he’ll answer me, but surprisingly, he does.
“We may need to sit down,” he mutters, pointing at the small, round table behind him. I nod and go to take the seat in front of him. With a long sigh, he clasps his hands together and begins to tell his story.
****
I wipe away the stray tear rolling down my cheek as he smiles sadly at me.
“Remind me to never go to a sad movie with you,” he jokes.
“What’s your name, anyway? Just in case I need to complain to somebody about you,” I say, changing the subject. He shakes my hand with a wide grin.
“Hades.”
“Persephone.”
The edges of his mouth quirked up. “I think I like Seph, better.” I smile along with him until he stiffens suddenly
“Why?” he asks out of nowhere.
I frown at him. “Why what?”
Hades shakes his head, somehow irritated by me, even though he’s the one with the cryptic questions. “Why’d you listen to my sob story? You could have left at any point, but you didn’t. Why?”
I shrug. “Human decency, I guess.” I gasp as I realize how long I’ve been in the library. Mom’s going to flip a table when I get b ack.
I chaotically rise, startling Hades. “I have to leave,” I tell him simply. His hand wraps around my arm, but not as tightly as they had been earlier.
“I’ll see you again, right?” he asks uneasily. I smile at him.
“You know where to find me,” I tell him quietly. He still looks nervous, but his grip lessened. He stares at me for a moment, before finally releasing me.
“See ya, bookworm.”
I grin.”See you, creeper,” I shoot back. A small smile grows on his face.
****
The apartment smells like coffee. Mom is up already. I creep into the living room, where Mom is waiting for me on the couch, a cup of coffee in her hands. She doesn’t even look enraged. Not my mom. She looks like she had just seen something calming. Like she wasn’t seeing her daughter sneak back into the house. She sips her coffee loudly as I shift my weight under my mother’s gaze.
“So, how was your outing?” she asks me calmly, with no hint of anger in her voice yet.
“It was fine,” I mumble back. Wrong answer. She places her mug on the coffee table, and scoffs, letting some of her irritation show.
“You directly disobeyed orders that were put into place to keep you safe!” she shouts. Her hands tremble as she speaks. “I tell you to stay inside so then you’re safe.”
I roll my eyes, suddenly filled with anger of my own. “I’m a prisoner and I hate it! I might’ve just made my first friend in twenty years.”
Mom sighs and starts walking over to me. She tries to cup my face, but I swat her hands away from me. Right now, the last thing I want is for her to try to comfort me.
“Honey,” she begins, but I cut her off.
“Don’t start,” I growl at her. She backs up, but then the world turns black and seems to swallow me whole.
Monster
I've accepted my fate by now. I have no illusions of what I am. At this point, I have chosen to become an assassin. A killer. A monster that people can use at their will. Am I proud of it? Not entirely. But I don't lie and tell myself that I am simply a good person doing the will of bad people.
I have six targets left, one finger already gone. If I imagine them as targets and not people, that makes it easier. Easier to kill them. I don't deserve being able to soothe my conscience. But I will if that makes my assignment easier.
Five left. The sixth target didn't scream, didn't beg for their life. He just watched me with sad, pitying eyes. He pitied me, the person who was going to end his life. Daniel Hargrove. No children, no wife. Nobody to miss.
I got Four and Five down this hour. They tried to run away, which was a bit irritating. A game of cat and mouse. Well, if they wanted to play, then we'll play. My gun aim has gotten better, unfortunately for them.
I have thirty minutes, and one target left. I hate the last name on my list. Hate the thing I'm going to do to her. Liliana, my clever older sister. I don't know what she could've done to draw my captors' attention. I knock on the door, partially hoping she won't answer. Will I really kill my sister to ensure my life? I already know the answer to that, which is why I hate the second the door opens.
"Hello?" My sister meets my eyes, hers widening in surprise. We haven't talked in years since Mom died.
"Lil," I whisper, hating the tremble in my voice. "I've missed you," I tell her. Her eyes get watery and she pulls me into a hug. Before I know it, I'm sitting in her living room, drinking coffee. Only, she doesn't expect what's in hers. She pales, looking sickly. She chokes on her saliva, and now I'm done.
Branwell addresses me with pride. "Good job. You will be part of our revolution. You will go by Volatile."
I nod my head, saying nothing. I killed the human part of me when I killed my sister. Now I am Volatile. Now I am a willing weapon to be unleashed on unsuspecting victims.Volatile. I guess the name suits me.
Trapped
Is my life the price I must pay for a life of comfort? The typewriter sits where it always does, sending the same message. I would do anything to put that back in the garage, to get rid of it. Anything. But would I? The pull that the dusty typewriter had on me was strong. Those three words are even stronger. Anything you want. I could have all the money I need, I could pay for Ava's college tuition. If I typed. So I did.
I typed.
And typed.
But eventually the typewriter took my power. I had to write or it would do something. Something bad. I lost Ava's mother, my wife, due to thinking I was above a typewriter's control. I wasn't. That's how I found Genevieve dead when I came home that cold December night.
The typewriter has the power. I either write, or it rewrites a nightmare that I'll never wake up from. In the crisp daylight, it looks so innocent. Inanimate. If only that were the truth.
So I write. I write to save Ava. I write away the rest of my humanity. Anything to not let it get angry. People end up injured, or worse, because of me and this blasted typewriter. I don't let myself mourn the losses. As long as it's not Ava, I tell myself. The typewriter won't hurt my last person in this world I care about as long as I write. So I do.
Estelle
I had to stop myself from covering Damien from Ivy. I knew she was helping him, but it was terrible to hear. When she finished meticulously healing his nose, she made a disapproving noise.
“Roll onto your side.” She lifted the back of his shirt, exposing a long and deep cut. “Why didn’t you come to me? You knew that I’d be able to sense any of your other injuries.”
Damien grumbled something under his breath. “I don’t know. I don’t need to come to you for everything considering that you’re not my mother.”
My heart broke at hearing him speak. He sounded to be terribly in terrible pain, and his nose was a smaller injury than the one on his back.
“Can I have one request?” he asked the mender. Ivy nodded. “Can Estelle hold my hand?”
“If she wants to.”
I nodded. “I’ll be right by your side the entire time. For as long as you need me to.”
Damien forced out a nervous smile. “Thank you.”
I moved my stool closer to the bed and grabbed hold of his hand. I watched as he closed his eyes in anticipation of the pain. Ivy braced him for it.
Three.
Two.
One.
Damien let out a low groan. His grip tightened, but just as I promised, I didn’t let go of his hand. I stayed through the entire healing, no matter how badly I wanted to be anywhere. To not have to hear him cry out in pain.
“Are you okay?” I asked him after Ivy finished. I turned to Ivy. “Thank you for healing him.”
Ivy smiled warmly. “Try to keep him out of here. Speeding up the healing process is quite painful, so I hope he learned something from this.”
“I learned to not let you heal me,” Damien grumbled. I had to hide my smile from Ivy.
“Thanks again.”
Ivy waved as we left the hospital room. I didn’t ask where we were going, mainly because I don’t think Damien even knew. He suddenly stopped walking.
I didn’t say anything until he turned to me, trying to hide the concern that was written on his face.
“Natasha just gave me a message.”
“What?”
Damien sighed. “Natasha is extremely powerful. She’s a psychic but can also mentally communicate when she’s concentrating hard enough.”
I nodded. “What did she tell you?”
Damien kept his mouth shut and continued walking. I followed after him, not asking again. I knew no matter how much I could bother him; he wouldn’t let anything slip.
Natasha
Blood. I stood in front of my blurry enemy, refusing to move. I knew what would happen. I knew they’d kill me without a moment of hesitation.
But I just stood there. I stood as the knife entered me and I saw the smallest glimpse of a smile. I collapsed onto the dry ground beneath me.
Movement stirred around me. Yelling, metal clashing. I was suddenly being shaken, but I knew this was the end. I wasn’t going to survive this battle. Maybe if I moved I would continue to live. No. I’d endanger the bright future that was possibly ahead.
For the first time, I couldn’t see the sure path. I knew I died, but what happened next was almost entirely unseeable. But Estelle was there. She made it, and the rest relied on her. The pictures faded to black.
***
Dax was still holding my hand, his body tense. He watched me with wide and concerned eyes.
“What’d you see?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t risk relaying too much, but I also couldn’t deny the inevitable. I chose the easiest but most heartbreaking truth.
“I die.”
Estelle
I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I kept replaying the moments in the field repeatedly. Clarisse fell asleep so fast, I was envious of her.
A knock at the door made her shuffle in her sheets, so I quickly went to open the door. To my surprise, Damien was there.
“Hello?”
Damien smiled cheerfully. “Mornin’, Sunshine.” He leaned on the doorframe. “Ready for training?”
Those three words woke me up faster than anything else could’ve. “Training?”
He nodded. “Natasha wants you prepared for anything, and I admit that I thought it’d be fun to watch you try to fight.”
Heat raised in my cheeks as I realized I was still in my pajamas.
Sheepishly, I asked, “Can I take a quick shower?”
“Be my guest.”
***
Damien was in the Training Room, looking over the swords. I wanted to run away the second I entered the room, but he already noticed I was there.
“Ready?”
I nodded, disobeying every single nerve in my body that said differently. He smiled approvingly.
“We’re going to start with hand-to-hand combat first,” he told me. “I need to see what you need to improve on.”
I already knew I needed to improve on everything. It’s not like I was just fighting people all the time. My ribs were already aching in anticipation.
He must’ve seen the unsteadiness in me because he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you too bad. We also have the best menders ever.”
I saw his leg move but couldn’t get myself to move in time.
“Are you sure that you don’t have super strength?” I winced and clutched my side where he’d kicked me.
Damien chuckled, but he looked concerned for a moment. The concern was there in a flash, and then it wasn’t.
“You need to dodge and attack,” he instructed. “If you just stand there, you’ll absolutely be hit.”
I lunged, tried to kick him, but he grabbed my leg and threw me down. Pain flared through me. I was going to have bruises for days.
“Better,” he commented. I saw red and charged at him. My sudden attack caught him off-guard, so I was able to knock him to the floor.
I got one hit before he had somehow flipped me over and now was on my. He held his hand out to help me up, but I instinctively punched him. My stomach clenched at the sight of blood on my fists. His blood.
I rolled away and noticed he was kneeling, feeling his nose with an undefinable expression. I hurried over to him, feeling the guilt hit me.
“Are you okay?”
When he started laughing, I wanted to get the nurses. Blood was trickling down his nose, but he was laughing like he’d just heard a funny joke.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, noticing me staring at his possibly broken nose. “I’m proud of you. I hadn’t expected that last punch.”
I grinned smugly. “Don’t underestimate me.”
That got another chuckle out of him. “I guess I won’t again.” He groaned as a hand shot back to his injured nose. “I will need the menders to heal me, though.”
I helped him to his feet, and we walked to the hospital wing. Despite passing several private training sessions, we walked through the building telling jokes and laughing loudly.
When we arrived at the hospital wing, a woman saw us and walked over, shaking her head. She wore bright red lipstick and was chewing her gum aggressively. She didn’t seem like someone who’d be a doctor.
“What’d you do now, Greene?” she asked him accusingly. Her accusation was said in a nice Southern accent. How many times has he had to come here?
Damien held his hands up defensively. “Wasn’t entirely my fault this time.” He pointed at me. “She landed a good punch, and I paid the price.”
I must’ve looked incredibly confused because the woman held out her hand and said, “I’ Ivy, darlin’. I heal most of Damien’s typically self-inflicted wounds.” She gasped and started walking away. “Speaking of, follow me.”
She led us into a small room where she had Damien lying down on a hospital bed. She flexed her hands as she leaned over his body.
“You might want to cover your ears,” she told me. “It’s not exactly pretty.”
Natasha
I’d sent Estelle to bed after Damien had reported how they’d almost been blown to pieces. Who knew where we were?
“You’re panicking again,” Dax told me. “Try to sit down.”
I whirled around. “My brother and another person placed under my care was almost murdered tonight, and you want me to sit down?”
Dax sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. I groaned, recognizing that I’d unfairly gone off on him.
“Did you have any tellings that something might happen tonight?”
“No,” I grumbled. My foreseeing power is all helpful except for times when I needed it for someone else’s safety. I wanted to scream and run and cry all at the same time. I didn’t notice that I’d been bunching my hair up until Dax’s warm hands covered mine gently.
“Nat,” he said quietly. “We’ll be okay.”
I wanted to collapse into him right then and there. “Nothing is okay. Nothing.” I hated how whiny my voice sounded, but he didn’t point it out.
Slowly, he turned me around to face him. “We may be one of the only things that are okay, right?”
I nodded, blinking back tears. He gave me a lazy smile that warmed me up inside. He leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek before collapsing onto my bed with an impish grin.
“So, what are we going to do, miss Natasha Greene?” He looked at me with amusement.