Page 19 of Xantera
Is that how you speak to all your friends?
His voice cuts through me like a heated blade. This time, though, I’m prepared.
I curl up in my chair in the corner of my room, feet under me, blanket draped over my body. I’ve pulled it off my bed to cover me up in case Malcolm can hear me if I accidentally talk out loud to myself.
Friends?I scoff, anger lashing off my tongue in ways it never has before. Not that I’m even using my actual tongue, but still—my emotions seem so much more honed inside my head.Hardly. Not until I know your name.
What will that tell you?
I can’t help but grind my teeth because I canhearhis smirk in my head.Lots, Iinsist.
But will it? A name is nothing of consequence. No matter what he tells me, it wouldn’t change anything. Unless I already know him, but there’s no way that I do. I’d remember that voice, the way it dips so low and rattles deeply in my core.
Instead, I need to study him.
And what if you aren’t happy with what you learn?he prods.Will you still be my friend then?
We’re strangers, and nothing more,I reply.Feel free to change that.
He clicks his tongue.I feel like you shouldn’t need reminding that you also refuse to tell me your name. Which reminds me, did you find a mirror today?
No, I don’t trust you,I say,and I’m taking a big risk even talking to you. Maybe they took Diggory in simply because he possessed this necklace.
A flicker of pleasure passes from him to me.So, youhavebeen asking questions. The last time we talked, you didn’t seem to have “necklace” in your vocabulary.
I shake off the sudden satisfaction that melts my insides, at first unsure if it’s his or my own. I’m afraid he’s already picked up on it, but there’s no way I’d feel so pleased that he’s pleased. Even if heisa Guardian, he’s a startlingly rude one.
It didn’t get me very far. I’ve only learned the name for a piece of jewelry. But for every answer I receive fromyou, I’ll return the favor. So, who are you?
I half-expect him to say I don’t have the authority to speak to him that way. It’s what a sentry would do, and a Guardian would probably just smite me for even daring to make any kind of bargain.
Surprise flickers through me, therefore, when the voice pauses and then says,I’ll answer when you earn it, but so far, you’re not working for it.
I ignore theskip of my pulse.
Then I have no other choice but to hand over this annoying piece of jewelry to the Guardians.
He growls an almost inhuman sound, and the snarl twists tightly around the doubt forming in my head—a Guardian wouldn’t react like this.
I’m not risking my life to talk to a stranger,I continue, eager to keep stoking his emotions. Maybe doing so will get me somewhere.A pretty necklace isn’t worth being thrown over the Wall.
That same growl slowly morphs into a low laugh.Thrown over the Wall?he parrots me skeptically.
My eyes drift out the window to trace those spikes jutting up against the dark sky, my imagination nowhere near as bright and happy as Odette’s as I visualize myself being pushed through them—my clothes tearing, my skin chilled, the blood moon’s light casting across my face, and then the free-fall, right into the Monster’s waiting arms. If it even has arms.
His humored tone sinks into me like quicksand.Pretty sure the Monster has arms. Besides, even if you do turn the necklace in, I’m sure they’ll be happy to punish you anyway—without asking questions.
I know without a doubt he’s right. I’ve already hung on to it too long. Anyone would be suspicious, and rightfully so. Where would I have gotten it from? It’s entirely possible that the Guardians are already looking for it, knowing now that Diggory no longer has it. I know for a fact he didn’t want the sentries finding it, or else he wouldn’t have torn it off his neck like that.
The second I walked home with the thing he discarded, I chose this fate. If I try to do the right thing by turning it in now, it could cost me my life.
There’s a shift between the current that connects the voice and me, almost like we’ve arrived at the conclusion together, and his arrogance becomes palpable.That’s right, little nightmare. You’re dead either now or later. May as well choose later. Assuage yourcuriosity. Ask me more questions—but maybe make them a little more specific than “Who are you?”
Fine, then, I state emphatically to cover up the fear creeping back in. Clinging to my anger is best, easiest. I haven’t felt this type of emotion since I was a child, when the Cardinal List of Rules stifled every one of them that wasn’t polite or pleasant, but it feels good to let it out.
Even if I sound insane.
Are you stuck inside this necklace?
