Page 109 of Torn

Love dodges a shot, spinning on her knees across the ground.

Anger backflips off a rock, shooting while inverted.

Envy and Sorrow leap, cross paths midflight, and aim sideways. Wonder windmills into the air, evading their arrows.

It’s natural, instinctive, like they’ve never been apart. Together, they’re a brewing maelstrom. The kind that can’t be controlled.

The sort that Anger doesn’t fear.

Merry wheels through the quagmire on her skateboard, a comet vaulting past the projectiles. She’ll always have her board, but if she wants Anger to, he’ll find another bow and continue to teach her. If that’s what she decides.

Andrew has gained speed and vitality, despite the inexplicable retention of his limp. He has the makings of a brave soul, testing his immortal gait by dodging a few of the arrows, learning how to anticipate them.

When it’s over, everyone laughs, their hope bolstered. With additional training from an inventive angle, they just might find leverage.

Wonder removes herself from the chattering group and drifts to the edge of the hill. Tentatively, Anger shadows her, along with Love.

“He’s right,” Wonder says to them, staring past the carnival to the library’s outline in the distance. “We’ll need him.”

Malice. He’d warned as much, claiming their class will eventually require his assistance. His brain has curated just as many Archive secrets as potential deceptions, the riddles of which they’ll need a SWAT team to breach. To that end, the outcast’s expertise, which may actually eclipse Wonder’s, is a natural resource that he won’t give up willingly.

That isn’t the only fact distorting Wonder’s face. She hasn’t been herself ever since she laid eyes on that conniving misfit. The mystery of it has a harsh texture and a historical reek, like feelings that have been churning inside her for ages.

Whenever Wonder looks at Malice, it’s with recognition.

In the observatory, Anger had broached the subject. And based on her torture well over a century ago, when she became enamored with that anonymous mortal, he has sufficient information for a hunch. “Is he the one?”

After a long-suffering pause, Wonder replies, “I don’t know, dearest.” She swallows, her cheeks flushed with exertion. “But I’ve seen his face before.”

Love bleats, understanding what this means. The memory of Wonder’s punishment surfaces amongst their trio. Perhaps even more details of her transgression had been confided to Love, since the goddesses have a closer bound.

Can it be? Can Malice be a resurrection of that mortal boy?

How? How can a mortal become a reincarnated deity?

Love issues a delicate query. “But wasn’t that mortal a good person?”

“Yes,” Wonder answers distantly. “Yes, he was.”

She gives a half-hearted smile to no one in particular, then walks away.

Anger and Love trade glances. The set of her chin indicates that she’s about to do something stupid. Something like trail after Wonder and propose to be Malice’s warden, thus alleviating her peer of that duty.

It’s stupid because Wonder isn’t fragile. She won’t take kindly to having her task commandeered, especially out of pity. Like Love and Anger, the musing goddess has her own story to face, her own demons to cull, her own conflict to resolve.

Anger knows the feeling. So does Love.

Covertly, he shakes his head at Love, forcing her mouth to compress. She’s debating whether to volunteer merely to spite Anger’s order, but that would be at Wonder’s expense. So she stays quiet, tossing him a brief but petulant glare.

Indeed, some things haven’t changed.

Other than the most important things.

Nearby, Andrew and Merry are gossiping. They bond instantly, striking up an effortless and endless conversation, with his inquisitive nature and her fanciful one.

Anger feels a covetous prickle but commands himself to get over it.

He and Love watch the priceless sight. His heart overflows at the vision of pink hair and sparkler eyes. Meanwhile, Love’s devoted gaze proves she’s experiencing similar sensations toward Andrew.

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