The Zevghéri people wanted me to help them, but I didn’t know anything about them or about their troubles. I fumbled my way through meetings and fought with my Director—who looked an awful lot like Dominic Kingsling. I tore down everything that Weston’s family had spent generations building up, because I simply wasn’t willing to torture and manipulate people the way Weston did. I fought and fumbled my way into an early grave: early, because my Klovoda knifed me to death like I was Julius Caesar.
I awoke clutching my torso, still feeling the blades stabbing into me. I was in the faculty parking lot, in the exact same spot where I had parked the day before, and for a panicked moment, I couldn’t remember how I had gotten there. I glanced up into the rear-view mirror, but it was covered in paper. With dread roiling sickeningly in the pit of my stomach, I pulled down the paper to reveal the writing on the inside as a photograph slipped out, landing in my lap. It was a photo of me and Cabe from the night before, clearly taken from the street, looking in through the window. I flicked the photo to the passenger seat and pulled the paper from the mirror, distracted from the writing by my own reflection.
There was something around my neck that both hadn’t been there in the morning, and definitely wasn’t mine. It looked for all intents and purposes like a dog collar: a thin leather strap with a little black bow in the middle. It was simple and understated enough to pass for an accessory, but it was uncomfortably tight and heavy on my skin. I raised shaky fingers to touch it, and could feel the give of wires and other hard objects beneath the material. As soon as my fingers made contact with the collar, little red LED lights lit up from within the material, spelling out a word over the front of the collar.
MINE.
I curled my fingers around it immediately, intending to rip the thing away from my body, but I glanced back to the note a moment before I acted, something pulling me up short. Maybe it was the fact that the messenger rarely ever did anything harmless, or maybe it was the fact that the collar felt alive against my skin… whatever the reason, I was immediately glad for it as my eyes scrolled the words.
Five little monkeys walked along the shore,
One went a-sailing,
Then there were four…
The two parts of the note were separated by a sloppy red smiley face, comically added in crayon.
I made you a collar, little pet. Do you like it? It’s rude to refuse a gift, so I’ve rigged it to blow if you try to take it off.
If you’re still in Maple Falls by midnight tomorrow night… your head goes boom.
I resisted tearing the note into a million pieces, but there was no preventing me from spilling out of the car and smashing my fist against the car window. Zevghéri people were supposed to be stronger than regular humans, but apparently we were no match for a Porsche. My knuckles busted open against the glass, spilling blood over the window and shooting pain down my arm. I was suddenly very thankful that my valcrick wasn’t working anymore, because if I had accidently sparked up in anger… well… my head might have gone boom.
I wrapped my scarf around my hand and gathered my books, running off toward my first class. I was on auto-pilot, going about my day while I tried to decide what to do, unable to simply stand numbly in one place. Art History thankfully wasn’t a practical subject, so Quillan wasn’t there to boycott my college experience as I arrived late to the lecture hall. I skipped down the rows of seats with my head lowered, trying to pay no mind to the sudden silence of the professor, or the stares of the other students. I slipped into the first empty seat that I saw, dropping my bag at my feet and making no move to pull out any of my books, instead cradling my bloodied, scarf-covered hand in my lap.
“What happened there?” someone whispered, leaning over the back of my chair.
I spun around, regarding the familiar face with a forced smile. Danny’s hair had grown since the last time I had seen him; it now spilled a little over his face, brushing against the dark sweep of his eyebrows. His eyes sparkled as they passed over me, flicking right past the collar around my neck with so much carelessness that it made the anger rise within me yet again. I forced it down, because it wasn’t Danny’s fault that he hadn’t gasped and recoiled immediately at the sight of the collar. Why would he recognise it?
“I had a disagreement with a car,” I said, as Danny’s eyes settled on my hand, still cradled in my lap. “And the car won.”
He smirked and leaned back in his seat, his attention switching back to the front of the room as the professor resumed her lecture. I watched him for a few more moments, guilt mixing with the dread that was slowly eating away at me from the inside.
“Hey Danny… I’m sorry about—”