PROLOGUE
“Ava, don’t wander too far, dear!” Five-year old little Ava heard her mother call after her as she scampered around the booths at the market.
Ava barely took notice of her mother’s warning. She ran around the market all the time. Her little bare feet pranced across the cobblestones, her pale yellow sundress swirling around her calves. She dodged around the throngs of people, barely paying attention to where she was going. Suddenly, Ava noticed that the crowd had thinned out a lot and looking around in surprise, she realized she had turned onto one of the alleyways. Her little face puckered up in a frown. She had better get back to the market before her mother freaked out.
Turning back the way she came, Ava found her path blocked by Mr. Burke. He was a balding, middle-aged man, who always gave little Ava the creeps. He made her feel icky inside with the way he always watched her.
Mr. Burke approached her. “Where is your mother, little girl? What are you doing out here with her?” Reaching out, the man stroked her strawberry blonde waves. Ava instinctively took a step away from him, but he followed after her. He eyed her. “Why don’t you go home with me? I’ll take real good care of you there.” He crooned.
Ava trembled in fear and tried back away from him again, but he followed after her, backing her into a wall. “Where do you think you’re going little bird?” Mr. Burke asked, his hand snaking out and grabbing her arm.
He’s going to hurt us! Don’t let him hurt us! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! The three voices that were always with her rang through her head in outrage. Let us help you! They hissed. Ava’s fear rose as she felt Mr. Burke’s grip on her tighten and he began dragging her down the alleyway. She felt herself giving into the call of the voices. Power surged through her. Mr. Burke gasped, letting go of her arm, he stared at her wide eyed as he paled. He fell to the pavement and Ava watched in shock as the life faded out of his eyes.
Ava stood frozen in her spot. She stared down at her hands. What had she done?
“Witch!” Someone shrieked. “That girl is a witch!” Two men who were with the woman shrieking, came forward, grabbing her by the arms and began dragging her out of the alleyway. The woman began shouting for the authorities.
Ava could feel the power building back up in her veins as the voices shrieked at her to protect them. Ava, however, already knew she had done something wrong and was in trouble, so she tried with all her might to hold the power back. The problem was that she was only five and didn’t even really know what was happening to her. The voices had always been there, but never like this.
Her mother suddenly appeared around the corner. She jerked to a stop as she took the situation in. Ava’s mother paled, looking terrified. “Ava stop!” She yelled. “Don’t do it!”
Ava tried listening to her mother, but she was not having much luck as the power surged within her. Suddenly, she sensed the life draining out of the two men holding her and out of the woman her mother was now dragging into the alleyway. But, it wasn’t Ava doing it. It was her mother. The three people fell to the pavement as the life slowly began to leave them. Ava’s mother’s eyes were glowing silver and they flashed in anger.
Ava heard shouts nearing the alleyway. The woman and men’s shrieking had alerted others in town. Fear flashed through her mother’s eyes. She looked down at Ava sadly. Her mother knew they would both burn for this, unless they let their power consume them and took out the whole village. She had been fighting against the voices of the ancient Morrigan for a long time as she tried to live a quiet, peaceful life away from the revenge the ancient Morrigans were bent on taking out on everyone not of their kind.
Ava’s mother made a quick decision. One that would mean sacrifice and would go against every instinct of self-preservation in her. She was not even sure it would work, but she could remember her own mother talking about the ancient magic of the Morrigan and if it meant saving her little girl, it was worth trying. Ava’s mother took the little girl up in her arms, hugging her tight as tears flowed down her face, which was still glowing with power as she held the other three lives by a thread. Setting Ava back down, she cradled her face in her hands.
“Ava, darling; I want you to promise me something, can you do that?” Ava nodded, confused about what was going on. Her mother stared into her eyes. “Never do that again. Ever. Do you understand me? Do not listen to what the voices tell you.”
Ava just stared at her mother in confusion. Her mother shook her a little. “Ava! Do you promise?” Ava blinked and nodded slowly. Her mother kissed her on the forehead. “Listen to me, Ava. Only you can stop it. Remember that sometimes we have to make great sacrifices. Sometimes those sacrifices hurt us – cut us deep – sometimes – sometimes, those sacrifices are worth it.” Her mother said softly, a sad, distant look in her eyes. She kissed Ava on the forehead once more. “I love you, darling.” She whispered.
The approaching voices had grown louder. Ava watched in confusion as her mother backed up away from her and closed her eyes for a moment. Her mother’s eyes popped back open, glowing brightly. Actually, her whole body seemed to be glowing. The air around them seemed to thrum with energy. Suddenly there was an explosion of bright silver light.
Ava fell backward from the force of it, throwing her arms up to cover her face. She curled up in a fetal position as the energy hummed around her. When the energy finally abated, Ava could hear birds singing and feel bright sunlight shining down on her. Slowly, she lowered her arms. Ava blinked. She was lying on soft, lush, green grass. Uncurling herself, she sat up and looked around. She appeared to be in some kind of field. There were a group of kids playing nearby with a small group of adults sitting on benches, watching them. Ava looked around frantically. She couldn’t see her mother. Gone. Gone. Gone. The voices echoed in her head. She couldn’t be gone! Where was her mother? Ava looked around frantically. Nothing looked at all familiar. More importantly. Where exactly was she?
CHAPTER ONE
Ava sighed, shoving her backpack into the locker and reaching up to grab the book and notebook she would need for her first class of the day. English. She slipped a pencil into her jean pocket before jamming her iPod’s earbuds back into her ears. Shutting the locker door, clicking the padlock closed and spinning the dial, Ava turned and joined the swarm of students bustling around in the hall.
Eyes cast downward, she let her curtain of strawberry blonde hair shield her face as she mad eher way aroundt the other students. She didn’t usually wear her hair down, but Brad had been overly rough last night and a few bruises were still visible above the collar of her shirt. They would usually be gone by now, but since they weren’t, Ava had decided to leave her hair down to hide the marks.
Hair up or down – it didn’t really make a difference. Everyone knew who she was. Whispers of “freak” followed her down the hall. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ava tried desperately to ignore the taunts. Reaching in her pocket, she thumbed the volume on her iPod up and Five Finger Death Punch roared in her ears, drowning out the mob around her.
Why did they hate her so much? What had she ever done to them? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Three voices echoed in her head. We’ve done nothing to them, yet they treat us like this! We do not deserve such treatment! The voices parroted simultaneously. This treatment must not be tolerated! Ava winced as her body vibrated with their anger. Go away. Go away. She pleaded, clenching her teeth and forcing their anger toward the other students down.
But you must not allow them to treat you – us – like this! They must be stopped! Stop them! Punish them! You can! You can! Their voices reverberated around her skull.
Ava thumbed the volume up higher. It didn’t help. They were still there. They were always there. Ava’s vision blurred and warmth rushed throughout her body as their energy filled her. As her energy filled her. From her own anger. At them.
Ava froze in her tracks, causing a lot of “hey, watch its” and plenty of “freaks.” Concentrating, she focused the hatred, the energy, inward, at herself. Leave me alone. She said firmly, letting the energy go within herself. The voices automatically went silent. Ava took a deep breath before continuing on down the hallway. She was so tired of dealing with this. Of them. Of living.
They had been there as long as she could remember. The voices. Always taunting her to take action against those they believed to be hurting her in any way. Even going as far as forcing their own power to rush throughout her body. But, Ava always managed to tamper it and them down. She couldn’t listen to them. She knew what happened when she did. Not that there weren’t one or two people she would like to let that power loose on. But, she had listened to them once before and now her mother was dead for all Ava knew. She hadn’t seen or heard from her in eleven years. Not since she had listened to the voices. Not since she had somehow managed to get from her homeland of Ireland to the United States, thousands of miles away, all in the space of a few seconds.
Her mother. Ava had promised her that she would never listen to the voices again. Never use the power again. And Ava would do anything to ensure she kept that promise. Although, she did ownder sometimes that if her mother had known the life Ava would have to live with, if she would have asked her to keep that promise.
Shaking her head at herself, Ava turned onto another hallway and ran straight into a brick wall. Bouncing off the brick wall, Ava fell backward to the floor. Her earbuds popped out of her ears and she quickly worked to gather up the book and notebook which had fallen out of her arms, rescuing them from passing feet. Clutching the items to her chest, Ava suddenly noticed a pair of black, steel-toed boots in front of her.
Following the boots upward, she found a pair of jean-clad legs. Up from those was a broad chest covered by a black Metallica t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Her eyes traveled up further, to a face she had never seen before. Her mouth dropped open. Oh, holy hotness.
While the hair of the side of his head was chopped shorter, dirty blonde hair hung over his forehead, falling just above the piercing blue eyes that glared out at her. His hate-filled eyes jarred her, snapping her out of it. Ava reminded herself that no guy, especially not one at this school, would ever look at her and see anything but a freak anyway. Come on. This guy was obviously new and he already knew about her freak status.
Ava scrambled quickly to her feet. She never could understand how someone could despise someone so much when they had never even really met them and based their conclusions on what everyone else said. Ava nearly snorted. It wasn’t like she could really deny being a freak. Because, clearly, there was something wrong with her. If the other students knew what was really wrong with her, she would probably be considered an even bigger freak than she already was.
It never failed though. Everytime they got a new student, within a day, they would be looing at Ava just like everyone else did. Except the teachers, they actually seemed to like Ava at least a little, but that was probably only because she got good grades and always turned her assignments in on time. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do with her time. Well, that and if she got in trouble at school, Brad would – Ava closed her eyes and shuddered. It wouldn’t be good.
Anyway, it looked like this new guy – new guys, actually, she realized as she tore her gaze away from Brick Wall’s straight nose, square chin and strong jaw line and noticed the other new boy over his shoulder.
He was equally good looking and based on their facial similarities, Ava would guess he was Brick Wall’s brother, or at leas tthat they were related in some way. This other one stood just a tiny bit shorter, but had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. His hair, however, was shorter and stood up at odd angles on top of his head, giving him a kind of just-rolled-out-of-bed look. A look he carried well. Although he wore jeans, unlike his partner, the Brick Wall, he wore black and white Chuck Taylors, a plain white t-shirt and a jean jacket with a grey hood. Both of them were lean and muscular. Very muscular.
Brick Wall’s scowl deepened. “Stare much?” His voice rumbled out of his chest.
Ava lowered her eyes to the floor, bumbling with her earbuds. “Sorry.” She mumbled.
“God, freak. Rude much?” A familiar voice chirped, followed by giggling. Great. The top bitches of the school. They were probably marking their territory. Not that they needed to be worried about Ava stealing their fresh meat away from them. “First, you have the audacity to plow right into our new student, but then you ogle him and his brother like the freak you are.” Renee sneered.
Ava refused to look up – instead concentrating on keeping her breathing even as she tried to keep the voices at bay. She knew what she would see, anyway. All five of them would be gathered around her and the two brothers. Even though they were bitches, even Ava would admit that they were practically perfect. Renee had a dancer’s body, icy blue eyes and auburn hair. Brittney, Whitney and Molly were all blondes of varying shades. Whitney had blue eyes, a lighter shade than Renee’s. brittney’s eyes were grey and Molly’s were an amber color. Hannah had light brown hair and blue eyes. All five of them had flawless skin, perfectly applied make-up, all the right clothes and never had a hair out of place. Two of them would probably be perfect for the new additions to the school.
“Are you ignoring me, freak?”
Ava didn’t comment. The whispers were working their way into her head again. Freak? Freak? Freak? How dare she! Come on – you can make her shut up. You know you want to. With trembling hands, Ava hurridly put the earbuds back in, frantically thumbing the volume up as high as it would go. The music exploded into her head, drowning out the voices. But not good enough. She still needed to get out of there before they got even angrier. Keeping her head down, she pushed past Renee and her goonies and past Brick Wall and the relative, hurrying down the hallway to her English class.
****
Gavin turned and watched the timid little thing rushing away, her head down. He frowned. She wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting, but that didn’t mean anything.
“Sorry about that. Every school has their freak, right?” The head-blonde said. Her name was Renee, if Gavin remembered right.
“And why is she yours?” Gavin asked, curious as to what seemed off about the girl to tohers who didn’t even know what to look for.
Renee flipped her hair back. “Well, when we were all, like eight years old, I think, these markings suddenly appeared on her back and arms. Kind of like a tattoo.”
“Markings?”
“Yeah. They’re in the shape of a raven, with its head at the base of her neck and its wings running down her arms.”
Hm. That wasn’t something he’d ever heard of before. He would have to ask his parents about it. “And it just appeared?”
“Yeah, so totally freaky.” The other girls nodded in agreement. “What’s even freakier is that her parents tried to have it lasered off, like you would do with a tattoo – “
“They lazered an eight year old?” Gavin’s brother, Alik, asked in disbelief. He had to agree with his brother, he’d heard that getting that done was painful.
Renee nodded. “And get this – the raven showed right back up a couple days later.”
Gavin grunted. “And that’s why you call her a freak?”
“Well, yeah – well, that and there has always been something about her that seems really off. You know what I mean?” Gavin nodded absentmindedly.
“And have you seen the way she dresses?” One of the other wide-eyed blondes spoke up.
Gavin quirked an eyebrow at his brother, who shrugged. Personally, Gavin had not noticed anything wrong with the way she was dressed. She’d had on worn jeans, with holes in the knees, a black shirt and a black, white and blue flannel shirt that was probably a size or two too large for her. Gavin didn’t see anything wrong with that, but then again, he wasn’t a girl.
The warning bell rang above their heads. “Well, we should probably get to class.” Gavin offered.
“Oh, okay.” Renee said and then reached out, touching his arm lightly with her fingertips. “Would you like us to help you get there?” She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him.
Gavin mentally rolled his eyes. “No. I think we can manage.”
Renee pouted. “Will we at least see you during lunch?”
Gavin hesitated and then gave a short nod. The blonde’s perfect teeth flashed. “All right, see you then!” Turning on her heels, she swaggered down the hall, the others following along behind.
Gavin shook his head at their retreating backs. Next to him, Alik groaned. “Did you have to agree to that?”
Smirking, Gavin replied, “They might be able to give us some more dirt. Besides, it might be nice to hang out with some normal teenagers for once.”
“But those girls are annoying.” Alik whined.
“Well, then sit somewhere else.”
Alik sighed and looked back down the hall, where the redhead had disappeared. “So, what do you think? Is she what we’re looking for?”
“If she isn’t she’s still something. Did you sense the Wicked coming off her?”
Alik nodded and narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t really look like a killer, though.”
“Looks can be deceiving; you know that as well as I do, Alik.”
Alik nodded thoughtfully after a moment of silence. “Look into it tonight?”
Gavin nodded and after agreeing to meet for lunch, the brothers parted ways – each heading to their own classrooms. As he headed down the hall to his own class, Gavin couldn’t help but think that his brother was right. There did seem to be something different about this Wicked thing. He just couldn’t figure out what.
CHAPTER TWO
Ava’s last class of the day was art class. She loved art. It was the only way she really got to express herself. That, and like music, it helped her ignore everything around her and push the anger and voices down. Making her way into the art room, Ava sat at her usual table in the back of the room. Everyone left her alone there, for the most part.
Ava’s eyes widened in surprise when Brick Wall from earlier walked through the open door. He paused in the doorway as his eyes landed on her, his lips turning up in a sneer.
He doesn’t like us! Look at the way he looks at us! The voices’ whispers echoed through her head.
Leaning forward with her elbows on the tabletop, Ava put her fingertips up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. “Shut up!” She hissed under her breath.
Someone off to her right snickered loudly. “Mr. P., Ava is talking to herself again.” Marissa whined.
Clenching her jaw closed, Ava reached in her jean pocket, pulling her iPod out and laying it on the table. She heard Mr. Portecelli (otherwise known as Mr. P) tell the girl to mind her own business, before she turned the volume of her music up. Rage Against the Machine blasted in her ears.
Ava tried not to notice Brick Wall as he moved across the room to talk to Mr. P. And she definitely tried not to notice when he walked over and sat down at the table Mr. P had pointed out – right across from her. Ava shifted uncomfortably in her seat and kept her eyes glued to the tabletop as she organized her sketchbook and pencils. Whoever Brick Wall was, he didn’t really seem like the type to be into art. Maybe he was just in it for the easy grade. Then again, what did she know? Aside from class, Ava was not around people all that often, so she supposed she might not be very good at reading them.
Her eyes flickered up, finding his steely glare on her. Ava slumped further down in her seat and waited as Mr. P handed out the instructions for the next project. He was probably explaining it all in more detail to the class right now, but Ava couldn’t hear a word of it over her music. This was the one class she could do that in. Leave her ear buds in for the entire time with the music turned up at full blast.
A sheet of paper floated in front of her face, landing on her sketchbook. Mr. P tapped the surface of the paper to get Ava’s attention. She looked up at him to find him watching her with an arched brow. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the rest of the classroom. Ava saw that the rest of the students were already bustling around the room and it looked like they were all setting up the pottery wheels.
A ball of nauseau lodged itself in her midsection as her gaze flew down to the paper. Sure enough, they would be working with the pottery wheels for class that day. Her eyes moved up to Mr. P’s, who gave her an apologetic smile before heading over to supervise the others. Ava slumped in her seat. It wasn’t that she didn’t like working with the pottery wheel because she did. She kind of loved it actually. What she didn’t like was doing it in front of others. Working with the pottery wheel was messy. Really messy. Which meant she would have to roll up the long sleeves she constantly wore to cover up the feathery-looking, black marks traveling up her arms. The marks that everyone always stared at.
Ava could live with the stares really. That didn’t bother her as much as the voices lashing out at her did – and they always did when others stared. At least they did when they stared at her like she was a freak. She could just leave the sleeves down and deal with ruining a shirt, but she had tried that before and it was something she regretted later. Brad and Laurel hadn’t been happy about her ruining her shirt. At all. Even though it was an old shirt and worn, since they barely ever allowed her to go shopping. Ava shuddered. No, she would just have to deal with the stares and the voices. In a way, that was better than dealing with Brad.
Pushing her chair away from the table determinedly, Ava stood up and made her way across the room to set up her own wheel. She froze in the middle of the room. Of course, the only one left open was next to Brick Wall. Ava clenched and unclenched her fists. Steeling herself, she inched her way over and started getting the wheel ready. When she had everything all set, Ava sat on the stool.
She just sat there for a moment, with her palms on her thighs, and took a calming breath. Well, what was meant to be a calming breath, but didn’t help much in all actuality. Her hands shook slightly and her face burned as she slowly rolled her left sleeve up, followed by her right sleeve. Ava could feel several eyes on her. She couldn’t hear them, but she was sure there were whispers about the feather-looking marks on her arms flying around the room. She didn’t know why they had to be like this every time the marks were exposed. It wasn’t like they had never seen them before.
Her knuckles turned white as her fingers dug into her thighs while she tried to hold back the tears of frustration stinging her eyes. A few managed to escape anyway. She let them roll down her cheeks and tumble down, landing on the backs of her hands. Staring down at the glistening spots, she was reminded that while she wasn’t human – although, she had no idea of what she was – she still had all the emotions of one.
Chancing a sideways glance at Brick Wall, Ava was surprised to see the look of hatred gone, but his lips were still set in a frown. He looked like he was trying to figure something out – like he was trying to figure her out. He suddenly seemed to realize that Ava was watching him and jerked his gaze away, starting up his wheel. Ava shrugged. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like they were really trying to figure out who she was – past the freak that everyone saw. Whatever. She had enough problems – it wasn’t worth trying to figure out what his deal was.
Flicking the switch on the pottery wheel, she smiled softly as it hummed to life and she threw some clay down, digging her fingers into it, she got to work. The mind-numbing work and the music blasting through her ear buds blocked out the voices, the other students, thoughts of Brad and Laurel and even Brick Wall sitting next to her.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before she sensed the other students scrambling around the room again as they got their tools cleaned up and put away. Sighing, Ava switched her own wheel off and started cleaning up. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Brick Wall’s work. She arched a brow, impressed. Okay, so maybe there was an artist in him somewhere – as far as pottery went anyway.
The bell rang just as she was about to head out the classroom door, right behind Brick Wall. Someone’s hand came down on her shoulder and she jumped, jerking away. Her heart leapt to her throat. She didn’t really like being touched. Twisting arund, heart pound, Ava realized it was just Mr. P and her heart slowed back to normal. He tapped his ear, one eyebrow arched.
Obligingly, Ava tugged her ear buds out of her ears. “What’s up, Mr. P?” she asked.
“Can I talk to you about something for a minute, Ava?”
Ava nodded, even though she knew if the conversation took too long, she would be in trouble for getting home late. Brad and Laurel wouldn’t care if the reason she was late was that she had stayed to talk to a teacher. There were rules that had to be followed. Then again, if it got back to them that she had refused to talk to a teacher, she would be in trouble anyway.
Mr. P glanced over her shoulder. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. O’Connor?”
Ava’s head whipped around and she saw that Brick Wall was still at the door – his gaze focused on her. He blinked and looked to Mr. P. “No, sir.” He said and then turned on his heel and into the bustling hallway.
Her forehead wrinkled up as she frowned at the now empty doorway. What the heck was his deal? Mr. P cleared his throat and Ava turned back to him. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Mr. P?”
He held out a small packet of stapled papers. “The art competition coming up.”
She nearly groaned out loud. “I already told you, Mr. P, I don’t feel comfortable sharing my work in public like that.”
Mr. P sighed deeply and leaned back against one of the art tables. “I know that we’ve talked about it, Ava, but I really would like it if you would reconsider. Any one of your pieces could easily win. I think it would be good for you. Not to mention, there is also the scholarship money awarded to the winners.”
Biting her lower lip, Ava looked down at the forms she held and shifted uncomfortably. The truth was that she really wanted to enter the competition. She had wanted to every time Mr. P mentioned it, but she knew that Brad and Laurel would never pay the entry fee for it. That and they preferred for her to stay out of the spotlight anyway. Ava shook her head, looking back up at Mr. P. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Mr. P didn’t say anything for a moment. He just studied her. “Is there something you want to talk about, Ava?”
“What?” She squeaked, her eyes widening and heart thumping in her chest.
Mr. P’s eyes narrowed. “Are things okay at home? School?”
“Of – of course, everything’s perfect.” She stuttered.
He frowned, obviously not convinced. Then again, who would be? “Okay. Just know that you can always talk to me or any of the other teachers about anything.”
Yeah, and what would that accomplish? So, they’d take her away from Brad and Laurel and that’s all good and everything until Brad followed through with his threats to expose what she was to the whole world. Then, she would likely be locked up somewhere and experimented on. She didn’t know if she could control the energy – the power – in that kind of situation. It was hard enough to do with Brad, Laurel and the kids at school. No thanks, she’d just deal with Brad and Laurel for another two years. She could handle that. Hopefully.
And the students? Yeah, right. If she complained about them, they’d just treat her worse. Not to mention, all the teachers and staff already knew how she was treated by the other students and as long as they didn’t disrupt class time, they just ignored it for the most part.
Ava forced a tight smile. “Sure. Okay, Mr. P. Can I go now?”
He looked like there may have been more he wanted to say, but he nodded anyway. Ava quickly told the teacher good bye and then hurried out of the room and out of the now quiet school, after picking up her backpack from her locker. Making her way across the almost empty school parking lot, Ava bit her lip worriedly. Laurel wasn’t going to be happy with her for being late getting home. And if Laurel was unhappy about it, then Brad would be even more unhappy about it. Shuddering, Ava picked up the pace.
****
“So what was it the teacher wanted to talk to her about?” Alik asked Gavin.
“How would I know, man?” Gavin retorted, as he leaned back in the leather seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel. His gaze was trained on the front doors of the building. In reality, he was somewhat curious himself what Mr. P had wanted to talk to the girl about. He was also somewhat curious about the girl, herself, more so than he was comfortable with.
The scene in the classroom had been very telling. Renee had been right about one thing. There was something about Ava. Something sad. And lost. And lonely. When her grey eyes had met his earlier, he had been surprised to see something all too human reflected there, the tears that hovered near the surface. Gavin had watched as her hands shook while she rolled her sleeves up before going to work on the pottery wheel. The marks hadn’t been at all what he’d been expecting. They weren’t ugly or garish, on the contrary, they were rather beautiful. Just like the girl whose skin they decorated. Gavin frowned. He shouldn’t be thinking like that about a Wicked thing. What concerned him more was that when she had been so close to tears, he had a powerful urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. Gavin shook his head, disgusted with himself. She was a Wicked thing for crying out loud. A job, nothing more. Something he was meant to kill.
“There’s an awful lot of thinking going on over there.” Alik piped up from the passenger’s seat.
They were currently waiting in Gavin’s car, for Ava to make her appearance, so that they could follow her home or wherever she was going and hopefully gain some more information about what she was. Gavin had begged their parents to let him get his own car last year and they had finally given in. Now he had a deep, royal blue 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda, with a shaker scoop and white body strips on the back end of each side. The interior was black leather. It had been cream-colored, but that turned out to not work so well with their profession.
Gavin sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could try to hide it, but his brother knew him too well. He would never be able to fool him. “I don’t know, there’s just something about this girl – I mean, about this Wicked.” Gavin flinched at his blunder.
Alik studied him thoughtfully. “Hm. I think I know what you mean.”
Catching sight of a flash of red, Gavin sat up straighter. “There she is.” Ava was scurrying across the school parking lot and off campus, with the ear buds she never seemed to take off, in place.
“Looks like we’re hoofing it, bro.” He said.
Sliding out of the car and closing the doors quietly, the brothers followed after Ava. They crossed to the other side of the road and stayed far enough back that they wouldn’t be noticed. After several blocks, they turned into an upper class neighborhood. Seeing Ava turn up a driveway and strolling across the lawn to the front door of the house, Gavin reached over and pulled his brother to a stop behind an overgrown bush. Gavin peeked through the branches. The house was large and painted white with black trim. The yard was well manicured, just like every other lawn in the neightborhood.
Ava had paused at the door. She seemed to hesitate, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she raised her arm up and looked at her watch. Her arm lowered and she shook her head while she reached forward, unlocking the door and going inside.
“What do you think?” Alik asked after a minute.
Gavin pursed his lips. “I’m not sure. I think we need to talk to Mom and Dad and see if they’ve found anything out.” Alik nodded in agreement and with one last glance at the house, the brothers turned around and headed back to the car.
CHAPTER THREE
The kitchen door slammed closed after Gavin and Alik as they trudged into the old farmhouse on the edge of town, which their family was renting. “You’d better hang those coats up, boys. And take those shoes off, I just cleaned these floors.” Their mother chastised from by the stove, shaking the wooden ladle she held at them before returning to her stirring. Rebecca O’Connor was several inches shorter than the boys, at five foot seven. She had an athletic build, pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “And supper’s almost ready, so go get washed up.”
Both boys grumbled something about not needing to wash up under their breath, just as their father walked through the kitchen door, from the living room. Their father, Adam O’Connor, was only slightly taller than the boys at six foot. He had hazel eyes and chestnut brown hair that was graying in spots. Adam was still muscularly built, although his muscle was lean like his sons’, he obviously saw a lot of physical activity.
“Shut your traps and listen to your mother.” Their father ordered, as he crossed the kitchen to the cupboards and began pulling plates out.
Despite his sometimes gruff behavior, their father was a very caring man and a very involved father. Their mother was the same way. It was actually kind of rare for people in their profession to be that way, when they’d lived such hard lives. The ability to be a Curator was passed down from generation to generation, so their mother and father had both grown up in the Curator way of life.
The Curators were guardians of the human race, meant to protect them from the Wicked things that walked the Earth. Anything believed to be supernatural in any way was considered one of the Wicked. The Curators had been hunting down and killing that which they believed to be Wicked, for thousands of years. Each Curator was supposedly blessed with the ability to sense the supernatural when they were near them. It was a feeling that vibrated throughout their bodies and got stronger the closer they got to the Wicked. It was that feeling that Gavin had felt any time he had been near the redheaded girl called Ava, that day.
Gavin and Alik quickly did as they were told and fifteen minutes later, the whole family was sitting at the kitchen table, digging into their meal. They were only a few minutes into it when they got down to business.
“So, boys, tells us about the Wicked you discovered at your school.” Their father asked, swirling some more spaghetti onto his fork. “It was pretty convenient that you found it our first day here – whether it’s actually the Wicked we’re looking for, or not.”
Alik smirked in Gavin’s direction. “Gavin could probably tell you more about the Wicked than I could, since he has art class with it.” Gavin swiftly kicked his brother in the shins. Alik responded with a grimace.
“All right, Gavin, you’re up. What’s it like? Do we have any idea what it is?”
Gavin paused in his chewing, thinking for a moment, before he swallowed and took a drink of water. “She – it, I mean, is quiet and – “ He paused again, frowning as he thought back to the look on her face in art class. “Sad.”
“Quiet and sad?” His father questioned, his brow arched as he studied his son. “Well, that’s a new one.”
Gavin set his fork down. “I know, I don’t think I’ve ever met one so mellow. Usually, they’re very temperamental and easy to set off. But this one,” He shook his head. “The kids at school all treat her like dirt, I saw it myself, several times and she pretty much ignored it.”
Alik nodded. “I agree.”
Their father chewed his food slowly, swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I hope you boys know by now that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” He said, setting the napkin next to his plate. “The Wicked aren’t good. None of them are.”
Both brothers nodded that they understood. “I know that, Dad. I didn’t say that this Wicked was good, just that it seemed different somehow.”
Adam O’Connor’s brows furrowed as he looked from one son to the other. Then, he inclined his head briefly in Gavin’s direction. “Duly noted. Now,” He began, moving the subject on. “We don’t know what it is?”
Gavin and Alik both shook their heads. “The Wicked never once showed any sign of what its supernatural power or ability might be. The only clue to what it might be are the markings it has.”
“Markings?” This question came from their mother.
Gavin nodded. “Yeah. I only saw the ones on its arms – “
Alik’s eyes widened. slightly “You actually got to see them?”
“We used the pottery wheel in class today, so she – it – had to roll up its sleeves. Anyway, the marks on her arms kind of look like feathers. From what one of the girls we met says, the whole thing looks like a raven.”
Their father frowned, tilting his head to the side. “So, this is like a tattoo?”
Gavin shook his head. “No.”
“From what the same girl said, the markings appeared when it was about eight years old.” Alik spoke up.
“They just appeared?” Rebecca O’Connor asked.
“Yep, just appeared.” Gavin said. “Apparently, the parents even tried to have the markings removed by having them lasered off, but they just showed back up a few days later.”
Both their parents winced. “Ouch.” Their mother mumbled.
“Neither of you ever remember hearing about anything like that?” Gavin questioned, glancing from one parent to the other. After all, they’d been doing this their entire lives. Since the ability the Curators had was passed down in families, both Rebecca and Adam O’Connor had grown up learning about and then hunting the Wicked. Just as Gavin and Alik were. Gavin imagined that they knew about nearly every kind of Wicked there was. Well, maybe, anyway. From the look on their faces, Gavin and Alik had just found one their parents didn’t know about.
Confirming Gavin’s suspicions on that, his father shook his head while picking his napkin off the table andusing it to wip his mouth. “No,” he said, a frown marring his features. “That’s a new one for me.” His mother nodded in agreement.
“So,” Alik began with a sigh, “Research?”
Adam O’Connor nodded, pushing away his plate and standing. “Yep, research – and I want you two to keep a close eye on the Wicked, so we can try to catch it in the act.”
That’s it then, Gavin thought, his brow wrinkling as he stood with his dirty dishes, taking them to the kitchen sink. The sad little redhead named Ava is our next target. He couldn’t help thinking as he silently followed his father and brother to the living room to dive into their research, that this time they just may be making a mistake.
****
Laurel was on her the second she walked through the front door. Ava kept her head lowered, her eyes glued to the black and white marble tiles in the foyer. She knew what she would see if she looked up, anyway. Laurel would be standing in front of her, fuming and glaring down her nose at Ava. Her bony hands would be on her hips and one of her feet would be tapping furiously against the tile. Her cheeks would be high with color, her eyes blazing. All because Ava was home half an hour later than she was supposed to be.
Ava’s earbuds were suddenly yanked out and she knew Laurel finally got tired of talking to herself. Quickly, Ava clamped down on the anger within her and dug her fingernails into her palms.
“Where in the world have you been?” Laurel hissed.
Keeping her vigil of the marble floor, Ava began through gritted teeth, “Mr. Portecelli wanted to – “
“Don’t you dare start making excuses.” Laurel snapped, cutting her off. Ava’s jaw clenched. Of course Laurel hadn’t wanted an actual answer, what had she been thinking? Laurel heaved a weary sight. “Oh, go upstairs to your room. Your father isn’t home yet, but I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you when he is.”
Ava’s lip turned up in a silent sneer and she was glad her head was still tilted down. The look would have earned her a slap across the face. Not that it would matter. That was the least of her worries. Still keeping her head down, Ava turned to her left and started up the plush, cream-colored, carpeted staircase.
Her father. She scoffed. Brad Jensen had never been her father, nor would he ever be her father. Just as Laurel had never and would never be her mother. Please, the idea was almost laughable. She may have been forced to take their last name when they adopted her nearly twelve years before, but in her opinion, that didn’t make them her parents. In her opinion, they didn’t do much of anything that would make them her parents.
No. She had no idea who her father was, let alone where he was. And her mother. Her mother – according to the voices – was dead. They said they would be able to feel her if she weren’t and they hadn’t felt her presence since the last time Ava had seen her alive. Now, she had promised to never listen to the voices, but Ava was tempted to believe they were telling the truth about her mother. She felt the truth of it within herself. That and Ava found it hard to believe that her mother wouldn’t have come to find and get her if she were alive. No. Her real mother had loved her dearly. If she were still alive, Ava would be with her right now.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Ava’s feet moved swiftly to her bedroom at the end of the hallway. pushing her door open, she stepped into her sanctuary – the only place in the world she actually had some peace. Her room was actually fairly large, but it was also sparse. She had a twin bed with a plain black bedspread against the wall to her right. Against the wall to the far left were her dresser and desk. On the desk sat her computer and printer, which she was pretty sure she was only allowed to have because of school.
The door to her walk-in closet was to the right of her dresser. Ava knew that a lot of girls would love to have a closet the size of hers, but hers sat empty except for a few bins of her art supplies. All her clothes fit in the dresser with plenty of room to spare. She knew a lot of the girls at school thought what she wore was a choice. And it kind of was. She wore what she felt comfortable in , but also what was affordable. Laurel and Brad rarely gave her any money and when they did, it wasn’t much. It was even rarer that they took her shopping personally.
The wall directly across from the bedroom dor was completely made of windows, with a window bench running underneath them. Every other wall was nearly completely covered with charcoal and pencil drawings of Ava’s and here and there a poem or quote from a song. Directly to the right of the bedroom door was another door, leading to Ava’s private bathroom – something she was very grateful to have. The less time she had to spend in any other part of the house, the better.
Striding across the room, Ava swung her backpack off her shoulders and set I next to her desk. Suddenly, she heard the front door open and close. Her heart jumped to her throat and she froze in place. Maybe Laurel wouldn’t tell him. Ava snorted. Yeah right, fat chance of that happening. The minutes ticked by slowly. Heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Ava took a few deep breaths to calm her thundering heart.
You can’t let him do this again. The voices started up. He’s hurting you. He’s hurting us. You can’t let him hurt us. You’re supposed to protect us. They wailed.
Ava squeezed her eyes shut. Go away. She pleaded.
Let us help. Let us help. Let us help. It can all stop tonight.
Get out of my head!
“Ava!” Brad’s voice thundered from outside her door. “Get out here now!”
Don’t do this! The voices begged as Ava gumbled with her earbuds, putting them back in with trembling fingers. Dread filled her as she went to the door. Opening it, she slipped into the hall.
His thinning black hair was slicked back like usual. Brad’s nostrils flared in his round face, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping down slightly from where they were perched. Ava’s door clicked into place as it closed behind her. “What exactly did you think you were doing coming home late from school?” He snapped.
“Mr. Portecelli wanted to talk to me.” Ava tried to explain quietly.
“And what kind of trouble were you making this time?”
“I wasn’t – “
A fist in her side stopped Ava from saying any more. Grabbing her side, she stumbled and bent over slightly as she gasped for breath. “Don’t make excuses!” Brad snarled. “You know you’re supposed to come straight home from school.”
Ava closed her eyes as Brad rolled up his shirt sleeves. It would be a good day if he only used his fists. Ava forced herself to focus on the music flowing out of the ear buds as Brad’s fist connected with her stomach and she doubled over in pain. The voices shrieked their horror and outrage as Brad’s fists pounded into her. She blocked them and him out as best as she could, focusing instead on the words of the song playing.
Brad and Laurel Jensen had been looking into adoption when Ava had been brought to the orphanage after she’d been found wandering the park by herself. They thought adoption would be good for their social standing, since they would be “doing good for the community and what-not.” Then they saw Ava and decided to adopt her.
It wasn’t so bad at the beginning. They weren’t the best parents, but they weren’t horrible. Really, they ignored her for the most part, unless they had company to parade her in front of. Then, two years after Ava was adopted, Brad lost his job and started drinking heavily. Shortly after that, the mark of the raven showed up on Ava’s back and arms and she was soon regarded as a freak and social outcast. The Jensens had at first tried to laser the mark off. When that didn’t work, they considered getting rid of her, but that would have just made them look worse. So, they kept her.
One night, while he was drunk, Brad got really mad at Ava and hit her a few times. He didn’t hit her too hard, but it was hard enough to leave marks. Soon, he began hitting her whenever he needed to relieve some tension. Almost a year later, Brad got his job back, but the beatings didn’t stop. It was almost like he was obsessed with, or addicted to, the feeling of euphoria he got when he hurt Ava.
It wasn’t as if Ava would ever tell anyone. Who else would adopt her when she was freak of nature, anyway? And she couldn’t let the voices help make him stop. She had promised. And she was never going to break that promise. Ava wasn’t sure she was capable of intentionally doing what she had done all those years ago, again, anyway. So, the beatings continued. Over the years, they got worse and worse – even though he always managed to stay away from her face. Ava was surprised Brad hadn’t killed her yet. Sometimes she wished he would just get it over with and put her out of her misery.
“Ava, don’t wander too far, dear!” Five-year old little Ava heard her mother call after her as she scampered around the booths at the market.
Ava barely took notice of her mother’s warning. She ran around the market all the time. Her little bare feet pranced across the cobblestones, her pale yellow sundress swirling around her calves. She dodged around the throngs of people, barely paying attention to where she was going. Suddenly, Ava noticed that the crowd had thinned out a lot and looking around in surprise, she realized she had turned onto one of the alleyways. Her little face puckered up in a frown. She had better get back to the market before her mother freaked out.
Turning back the way she came, Ava found her path blocked by Mr. Burke. He was a balding, middle-aged man, who always gave little Ava the creeps. He made her feel icky inside with the way he always watched her.
Mr. Burke approached her. “Where is your mother, little girl? What are you doing out here with her?” Reaching out, the man stroked her strawberry blonde waves. Ava instinctively took a step away from him, but he followed after her. He eyed her. “Why don’t you go home with me? I’ll take real good care of you there.” He crooned.
Ava trembled in fear and tried back away from him again, but he followed after her, backing her into a wall. “Where do you think you’re going little bird?” Mr. Burke asked, his hand snaking out and grabbing her arm.
He’s going to hurt us! Don’t let him hurt us! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! The three voices that were always with her rang through her head in outrage. Let us help you! They hissed. Ava’s fear rose as she felt Mr. Burke’s grip on her tighten and he began dragging her down the alleyway. She felt herself giving into the call of the voices. Power surged through her. Mr. Burke gasped, letting go of her arm, he stared at her wide eyed as he paled. He fell to the pavement and Ava watched in shock as the life faded out of his eyes.
Ava stood frozen in her spot. She stared down at her hands. What had she done?
“Witch!” Someone shrieked. “That girl is a witch!” Two men who were with the woman shrieking, came forward, grabbing her by the arms and began dragging her out of the alleyway. The woman began shouting for the authorities.
Ava could feel the power building back up in her veins as the voices shrieked at her to protect them. Ava, however, already knew she had done something wrong and was in trouble, so she tried with all her might to hold the power back. The problem was that she was only five and didn’t even really know what was happening to her. The voices had always been there, but never like this.
Her mother suddenly appeared around the corner. She jerked to a stop as she took the situation in. Ava’s mother paled, looking terrified. “Ava stop!” She yelled. “Don’t do it!”
Ava tried listening to her mother, but she was not having much luck as the power surged within her. Suddenly, she sensed the life draining out of the two men holding her and out of the woman her mother was now dragging into the alleyway. But, it wasn’t Ava doing it. It was her mother. The three people fell to the pavement as the life slowly began to leave them. Ava’s mother’s eyes were glowing silver and they flashed in anger.
Ava heard shouts nearing the alleyway. The woman and men’s shrieking had alerted others in town. Fear flashed through her mother’s eyes. She looked down at Ava sadly. Her mother knew they would both burn for this, unless they let their power consume them and took out the whole village. She had been fighting against the voices of the ancient Morrigan for a long time as she tried to live a quiet, peaceful life away from the revenge the ancient Morrigans were bent on taking out on everyone not of their kind.
Ava’s mother made a quick decision. One that would mean sacrifice and would go against every instinct of self-preservation in her. She was not even sure it would work, but she could remember her own mother talking about the ancient magic of the Morrigan and if it meant saving her little girl, it was worth trying. Ava’s mother took the little girl up in her arms, hugging her tight as tears flowed down her face, which was still glowing with power as she held the other three lives by a thread. Setting Ava back down, she cradled her face in her hands.
“Ava, darling; I want you to promise me something, can you do that?” Ava nodded, confused about what was going on. Her mother stared into her eyes. “Never do that again. Ever. Do you understand me? Do not listen to what the voices tell you.”
Ava just stared at her mother in confusion. Her mother shook her a little. “Ava! Do you promise?” Ava blinked and nodded slowly. Her mother kissed her on the forehead. “Listen to me, Ava. Only you can stop it. Remember that sometimes we have to make great sacrifices. Sometimes those sacrifices hurt us – cut us deep – sometimes – sometimes, those sacrifices are worth it.” Her mother said softly, a sad, distant look in her eyes. She kissed Ava on the forehead once more. “I love you, darling.” She whispered.
The approaching voices had grown louder. Ava watched in confusion as her mother backed up away from her and closed her eyes for a moment. Her mother’s eyes popped back open, glowing brightly. Actually, her whole body seemed to be glowing. The air around them seemed to thrum with energy. Suddenly there was an explosion of bright silver light.
Ava fell backward from the force of it, throwing her arms up to cover her face. She curled up in a fetal position as the energy hummed around her. When the energy finally abated, Ava could hear birds singing and feel bright sunlight shining down on her. Slowly, she lowered her arms. Ava blinked. She was lying on soft, lush, green grass. Uncurling herself, she sat up and looked around. She appeared to be in some kind of field. There were a group of kids playing nearby with a small group of adults sitting on benches, watching them. Ava looked around frantically. She couldn’t see her mother. Gone. Gone. Gone. The voices echoed in her head. She couldn’t be gone! Where was her mother? Ava looked around frantically. Nothing looked at all familiar. More importantly. Where exactly was she?
CHAPTER ONE
Ava sighed, shoving her backpack into the locker and reaching up to grab the book and notebook she would need for her first class of the day. English. She slipped a pencil into her jean pocket before jamming her iPod’s earbuds back into her ears. Shutting the locker door, clicking the padlock closed and spinning the dial, Ava turned and joined the swarm of students bustling around in the hall.
Eyes cast downward, she let her curtain of strawberry blonde hair shield her face as she mad eher way aroundt the other students. She didn’t usually wear her hair down, but Brad had been overly rough last night and a few bruises were still visible above the collar of her shirt. They would usually be gone by now, but since they weren’t, Ava had decided to leave her hair down to hide the marks.
Hair up or down – it didn’t really make a difference. Everyone knew who she was. Whispers of “freak” followed her down the hall. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ava tried desperately to ignore the taunts. Reaching in her pocket, she thumbed the volume on her iPod up and Five Finger Death Punch roared in her ears, drowning out the mob around her.
Why did they hate her so much? What had she ever done to them? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Three voices echoed in her head. We’ve done nothing to them, yet they treat us like this! We do not deserve such treatment! The voices parroted simultaneously. This treatment must not be tolerated! Ava winced as her body vibrated with their anger. Go away. Go away. She pleaded, clenching her teeth and forcing their anger toward the other students down.
But you must not allow them to treat you – us – like this! They must be stopped! Stop them! Punish them! You can! You can! Their voices reverberated around her skull.
Ava thumbed the volume up higher. It didn’t help. They were still there. They were always there. Ava’s vision blurred and warmth rushed throughout her body as their energy filled her. As her energy filled her. From her own anger. At them.
Ava froze in her tracks, causing a lot of “hey, watch its” and plenty of “freaks.” Concentrating, she focused the hatred, the energy, inward, at herself. Leave me alone. She said firmly, letting the energy go within herself. The voices automatically went silent. Ava took a deep breath before continuing on down the hallway. She was so tired of dealing with this. Of them. Of living.
They had been there as long as she could remember. The voices. Always taunting her to take action against those they believed to be hurting her in any way. Even going as far as forcing their own power to rush throughout her body. But, Ava always managed to tamper it and them down. She couldn’t listen to them. She knew what happened when she did. Not that there weren’t one or two people she would like to let that power loose on. But, she had listened to them once before and now her mother was dead for all Ava knew. She hadn’t seen or heard from her in eleven years. Not since she had listened to the voices. Not since she had somehow managed to get from her homeland of Ireland to the United States, thousands of miles away, all in the space of a few seconds.
Her mother. Ava had promised her that she would never listen to the voices again. Never use the power again. And Ava would do anything to ensure she kept that promise. Although, she did ownder sometimes that if her mother had known the life Ava would have to live with, if she would have asked her to keep that promise.
Shaking her head at herself, Ava turned onto another hallway and ran straight into a brick wall. Bouncing off the brick wall, Ava fell backward to the floor. Her earbuds popped out of her ears and she quickly worked to gather up the book and notebook which had fallen out of her arms, rescuing them from passing feet. Clutching the items to her chest, Ava suddenly noticed a pair of black, steel-toed boots in front of her.
Following the boots upward, she found a pair of jean-clad legs. Up from those was a broad chest covered by a black Metallica t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Her eyes traveled up further, to a face she had never seen before. Her mouth dropped open. Oh, holy hotness.
While the hair of the side of his head was chopped shorter, dirty blonde hair hung over his forehead, falling just above the piercing blue eyes that glared out at her. His hate-filled eyes jarred her, snapping her out of it. Ava reminded herself that no guy, especially not one at this school, would ever look at her and see anything but a freak anyway. Come on. This guy was obviously new and he already knew about her freak status.
Ava scrambled quickly to her feet. She never could understand how someone could despise someone so much when they had never even really met them and based their conclusions on what everyone else said. Ava nearly snorted. It wasn’t like she could really deny being a freak. Because, clearly, there was something wrong with her. If the other students knew what was really wrong with her, she would probably be considered an even bigger freak than she already was.
It never failed though. Everytime they got a new student, within a day, they would be looing at Ava just like everyone else did. Except the teachers, they actually seemed to like Ava at least a little, but that was probably only because she got good grades and always turned her assignments in on time. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do with her time. Well, that and if she got in trouble at school, Brad would – Ava closed her eyes and shuddered. It wouldn’t be good.
Anyway, it looked like this new guy – new guys, actually, she realized as she tore her gaze away from Brick Wall’s straight nose, square chin and strong jaw line and noticed the other new boy over his shoulder.
He was equally good looking and based on their facial similarities, Ava would guess he was Brick Wall’s brother, or at leas tthat they were related in some way. This other one stood just a tiny bit shorter, but had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. His hair, however, was shorter and stood up at odd angles on top of his head, giving him a kind of just-rolled-out-of-bed look. A look he carried well. Although he wore jeans, unlike his partner, the Brick Wall, he wore black and white Chuck Taylors, a plain white t-shirt and a jean jacket with a grey hood. Both of them were lean and muscular. Very muscular.
Brick Wall’s scowl deepened. “Stare much?” His voice rumbled out of his chest.
Ava lowered her eyes to the floor, bumbling with her earbuds. “Sorry.” She mumbled.
“God, freak. Rude much?” A familiar voice chirped, followed by giggling. Great. The top bitches of the school. They were probably marking their territory. Not that they needed to be worried about Ava stealing their fresh meat away from them. “First, you have the audacity to plow right into our new student, but then you ogle him and his brother like the freak you are.” Renee sneered.
Ava refused to look up – instead concentrating on keeping her breathing even as she tried to keep the voices at bay. She knew what she would see, anyway. All five of them would be gathered around her and the two brothers. Even though they were bitches, even Ava would admit that they were practically perfect. Renee had a dancer’s body, icy blue eyes and auburn hair. Brittney, Whitney and Molly were all blondes of varying shades. Whitney had blue eyes, a lighter shade than Renee’s. brittney’s eyes were grey and Molly’s were an amber color. Hannah had light brown hair and blue eyes. All five of them had flawless skin, perfectly applied make-up, all the right clothes and never had a hair out of place. Two of them would probably be perfect for the new additions to the school.
“Are you ignoring me, freak?”
Ava didn’t comment. The whispers were working their way into her head again. Freak? Freak? Freak? How dare she! Come on – you can make her shut up. You know you want to. With trembling hands, Ava hurridly put the earbuds back in, frantically thumbing the volume up as high as it would go. The music exploded into her head, drowning out the voices. But not good enough. She still needed to get out of there before they got even angrier. Keeping her head down, she pushed past Renee and her goonies and past Brick Wall and the relative, hurrying down the hallway to her English class.
****
Gavin turned and watched the timid little thing rushing away, her head down. He frowned. She wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting, but that didn’t mean anything.
“Sorry about that. Every school has their freak, right?” The head-blonde said. Her name was Renee, if Gavin remembered right.
“And why is she yours?” Gavin asked, curious as to what seemed off about the girl to tohers who didn’t even know what to look for.
Renee flipped her hair back. “Well, when we were all, like eight years old, I think, these markings suddenly appeared on her back and arms. Kind of like a tattoo.”
“Markings?”
“Yeah. They’re in the shape of a raven, with its head at the base of her neck and its wings running down her arms.”
Hm. That wasn’t something he’d ever heard of before. He would have to ask his parents about it. “And it just appeared?”
“Yeah, so totally freaky.” The other girls nodded in agreement. “What’s even freakier is that her parents tried to have it lasered off, like you would do with a tattoo – “
“They lazered an eight year old?” Gavin’s brother, Alik, asked in disbelief. He had to agree with his brother, he’d heard that getting that done was painful.
Renee nodded. “And get this – the raven showed right back up a couple days later.”
Gavin grunted. “And that’s why you call her a freak?”
“Well, yeah – well, that and there has always been something about her that seems really off. You know what I mean?” Gavin nodded absentmindedly.
“And have you seen the way she dresses?” One of the other wide-eyed blondes spoke up.
Gavin quirked an eyebrow at his brother, who shrugged. Personally, Gavin had not noticed anything wrong with the way she was dressed. She’d had on worn jeans, with holes in the knees, a black shirt and a black, white and blue flannel shirt that was probably a size or two too large for her. Gavin didn’t see anything wrong with that, but then again, he wasn’t a girl.
The warning bell rang above their heads. “Well, we should probably get to class.” Gavin offered.
“Oh, okay.” Renee said and then reached out, touching his arm lightly with her fingertips. “Would you like us to help you get there?” She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him.
Gavin mentally rolled his eyes. “No. I think we can manage.”
Renee pouted. “Will we at least see you during lunch?”
Gavin hesitated and then gave a short nod. The blonde’s perfect teeth flashed. “All right, see you then!” Turning on her heels, she swaggered down the hall, the others following along behind.
Gavin shook his head at their retreating backs. Next to him, Alik groaned. “Did you have to agree to that?”
Smirking, Gavin replied, “They might be able to give us some more dirt. Besides, it might be nice to hang out with some normal teenagers for once.”
“But those girls are annoying.” Alik whined.
“Well, then sit somewhere else.”
Alik sighed and looked back down the hall, where the redhead had disappeared. “So, what do you think? Is she what we’re looking for?”
“If she isn’t she’s still something. Did you sense the Wicked coming off her?”
Alik nodded and narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t really look like a killer, though.”
“Looks can be deceiving; you know that as well as I do, Alik.”
Alik nodded thoughtfully after a moment of silence. “Look into it tonight?”
Gavin nodded and after agreeing to meet for lunch, the brothers parted ways – each heading to their own classrooms. As he headed down the hall to his own class, Gavin couldn’t help but think that his brother was right. There did seem to be something different about this Wicked thing. He just couldn’t figure out what.
CHAPTER TWO
Ava’s last class of the day was art class. She loved art. It was the only way she really got to express herself. That, and like music, it helped her ignore everything around her and push the anger and voices down. Making her way into the art room, Ava sat at her usual table in the back of the room. Everyone left her alone there, for the most part.
Ava’s eyes widened in surprise when Brick Wall from earlier walked through the open door. He paused in the doorway as his eyes landed on her, his lips turning up in a sneer.
He doesn’t like us! Look at the way he looks at us! The voices’ whispers echoed through her head.
Leaning forward with her elbows on the tabletop, Ava put her fingertips up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. “Shut up!” She hissed under her breath.
Someone off to her right snickered loudly. “Mr. P., Ava is talking to herself again.” Marissa whined.
Clenching her jaw closed, Ava reached in her jean pocket, pulling her iPod out and laying it on the table. She heard Mr. Portecelli (otherwise known as Mr. P) tell the girl to mind her own business, before she turned the volume of her music up. Rage Against the Machine blasted in her ears.
Ava tried not to notice Brick Wall as he moved across the room to talk to Mr. P. And she definitely tried not to notice when he walked over and sat down at the table Mr. P had pointed out – right across from her. Ava shifted uncomfortably in her seat and kept her eyes glued to the tabletop as she organized her sketchbook and pencils. Whoever Brick Wall was, he didn’t really seem like the type to be into art. Maybe he was just in it for the easy grade. Then again, what did she know? Aside from class, Ava was not around people all that often, so she supposed she might not be very good at reading them.
Her eyes flickered up, finding his steely glare on her. Ava slumped further down in her seat and waited as Mr. P handed out the instructions for the next project. He was probably explaining it all in more detail to the class right now, but Ava couldn’t hear a word of it over her music. This was the one class she could do that in. Leave her ear buds in for the entire time with the music turned up at full blast.
A sheet of paper floated in front of her face, landing on her sketchbook. Mr. P tapped the surface of the paper to get Ava’s attention. She looked up at him to find him watching her with an arched brow. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the rest of the classroom. Ava saw that the rest of the students were already bustling around the room and it looked like they were all setting up the pottery wheels.
A ball of nauseau lodged itself in her midsection as her gaze flew down to the paper. Sure enough, they would be working with the pottery wheels for class that day. Her eyes moved up to Mr. P’s, who gave her an apologetic smile before heading over to supervise the others. Ava slumped in her seat. It wasn’t that she didn’t like working with the pottery wheel because she did. She kind of loved it actually. What she didn’t like was doing it in front of others. Working with the pottery wheel was messy. Really messy. Which meant she would have to roll up the long sleeves she constantly wore to cover up the feathery-looking, black marks traveling up her arms. The marks that everyone always stared at.
Ava could live with the stares really. That didn’t bother her as much as the voices lashing out at her did – and they always did when others stared. At least they did when they stared at her like she was a freak. She could just leave the sleeves down and deal with ruining a shirt, but she had tried that before and it was something she regretted later. Brad and Laurel hadn’t been happy about her ruining her shirt. At all. Even though it was an old shirt and worn, since they barely ever allowed her to go shopping. Ava shuddered. No, she would just have to deal with the stares and the voices. In a way, that was better than dealing with Brad.
Pushing her chair away from the table determinedly, Ava stood up and made her way across the room to set up her own wheel. She froze in the middle of the room. Of course, the only one left open was next to Brick Wall. Ava clenched and unclenched her fists. Steeling herself, she inched her way over and started getting the wheel ready. When she had everything all set, Ava sat on the stool.
She just sat there for a moment, with her palms on her thighs, and took a calming breath. Well, what was meant to be a calming breath, but didn’t help much in all actuality. Her hands shook slightly and her face burned as she slowly rolled her left sleeve up, followed by her right sleeve. Ava could feel several eyes on her. She couldn’t hear them, but she was sure there were whispers about the feather-looking marks on her arms flying around the room. She didn’t know why they had to be like this every time the marks were exposed. It wasn’t like they had never seen them before.
Her knuckles turned white as her fingers dug into her thighs while she tried to hold back the tears of frustration stinging her eyes. A few managed to escape anyway. She let them roll down her cheeks and tumble down, landing on the backs of her hands. Staring down at the glistening spots, she was reminded that while she wasn’t human – although, she had no idea of what she was – she still had all the emotions of one.
Chancing a sideways glance at Brick Wall, Ava was surprised to see the look of hatred gone, but his lips were still set in a frown. He looked like he was trying to figure something out – like he was trying to figure her out. He suddenly seemed to realize that Ava was watching him and jerked his gaze away, starting up his wheel. Ava shrugged. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like they were really trying to figure out who she was – past the freak that everyone saw. Whatever. She had enough problems – it wasn’t worth trying to figure out what his deal was.
Flicking the switch on the pottery wheel, she smiled softly as it hummed to life and she threw some clay down, digging her fingers into it, she got to work. The mind-numbing work and the music blasting through her ear buds blocked out the voices, the other students, thoughts of Brad and Laurel and even Brick Wall sitting next to her.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before she sensed the other students scrambling around the room again as they got their tools cleaned up and put away. Sighing, Ava switched her own wheel off and started cleaning up. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Brick Wall’s work. She arched a brow, impressed. Okay, so maybe there was an artist in him somewhere – as far as pottery went anyway.
The bell rang just as she was about to head out the classroom door, right behind Brick Wall. Someone’s hand came down on her shoulder and she jumped, jerking away. Her heart leapt to her throat. She didn’t really like being touched. Twisting arund, heart pound, Ava realized it was just Mr. P and her heart slowed back to normal. He tapped his ear, one eyebrow arched.
Obligingly, Ava tugged her ear buds out of her ears. “What’s up, Mr. P?” she asked.
“Can I talk to you about something for a minute, Ava?”
Ava nodded, even though she knew if the conversation took too long, she would be in trouble for getting home late. Brad and Laurel wouldn’t care if the reason she was late was that she had stayed to talk to a teacher. There were rules that had to be followed. Then again, if it got back to them that she had refused to talk to a teacher, she would be in trouble anyway.
Mr. P glanced over her shoulder. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. O’Connor?”
Ava’s head whipped around and she saw that Brick Wall was still at the door – his gaze focused on her. He blinked and looked to Mr. P. “No, sir.” He said and then turned on his heel and into the bustling hallway.
Her forehead wrinkled up as she frowned at the now empty doorway. What the heck was his deal? Mr. P cleared his throat and Ava turned back to him. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Mr. P?”
He held out a small packet of stapled papers. “The art competition coming up.”
She nearly groaned out loud. “I already told you, Mr. P, I don’t feel comfortable sharing my work in public like that.”
Mr. P sighed deeply and leaned back against one of the art tables. “I know that we’ve talked about it, Ava, but I really would like it if you would reconsider. Any one of your pieces could easily win. I think it would be good for you. Not to mention, there is also the scholarship money awarded to the winners.”
Biting her lower lip, Ava looked down at the forms she held and shifted uncomfortably. The truth was that she really wanted to enter the competition. She had wanted to every time Mr. P mentioned it, but she knew that Brad and Laurel would never pay the entry fee for it. That and they preferred for her to stay out of the spotlight anyway. Ava shook her head, looking back up at Mr. P. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Mr. P didn’t say anything for a moment. He just studied her. “Is there something you want to talk about, Ava?”
“What?” She squeaked, her eyes widening and heart thumping in her chest.
Mr. P’s eyes narrowed. “Are things okay at home? School?”
“Of – of course, everything’s perfect.” She stuttered.
He frowned, obviously not convinced. Then again, who would be? “Okay. Just know that you can always talk to me or any of the other teachers about anything.”
Yeah, and what would that accomplish? So, they’d take her away from Brad and Laurel and that’s all good and everything until Brad followed through with his threats to expose what she was to the whole world. Then, she would likely be locked up somewhere and experimented on. She didn’t know if she could control the energy – the power – in that kind of situation. It was hard enough to do with Brad, Laurel and the kids at school. No thanks, she’d just deal with Brad and Laurel for another two years. She could handle that. Hopefully.
And the students? Yeah, right. If she complained about them, they’d just treat her worse. Not to mention, all the teachers and staff already knew how she was treated by the other students and as long as they didn’t disrupt class time, they just ignored it for the most part.
Ava forced a tight smile. “Sure. Okay, Mr. P. Can I go now?”
He looked like there may have been more he wanted to say, but he nodded anyway. Ava quickly told the teacher good bye and then hurried out of the room and out of the now quiet school, after picking up her backpack from her locker. Making her way across the almost empty school parking lot, Ava bit her lip worriedly. Laurel wasn’t going to be happy with her for being late getting home. And if Laurel was unhappy about it, then Brad would be even more unhappy about it. Shuddering, Ava picked up the pace.
****
“So what was it the teacher wanted to talk to her about?” Alik asked Gavin.
“How would I know, man?” Gavin retorted, as he leaned back in the leather seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel. His gaze was trained on the front doors of the building. In reality, he was somewhat curious himself what Mr. P had wanted to talk to the girl about. He was also somewhat curious about the girl, herself, more so than he was comfortable with.
The scene in the classroom had been very telling. Renee had been right about one thing. There was something about Ava. Something sad. And lost. And lonely. When her grey eyes had met his earlier, he had been surprised to see something all too human reflected there, the tears that hovered near the surface. Gavin had watched as her hands shook while she rolled her sleeves up before going to work on the pottery wheel. The marks hadn’t been at all what he’d been expecting. They weren’t ugly or garish, on the contrary, they were rather beautiful. Just like the girl whose skin they decorated. Gavin frowned. He shouldn’t be thinking like that about a Wicked thing. What concerned him more was that when she had been so close to tears, he had a powerful urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. Gavin shook his head, disgusted with himself. She was a Wicked thing for crying out loud. A job, nothing more. Something he was meant to kill.
“There’s an awful lot of thinking going on over there.” Alik piped up from the passenger’s seat.
They were currently waiting in Gavin’s car, for Ava to make her appearance, so that they could follow her home or wherever she was going and hopefully gain some more information about what she was. Gavin had begged their parents to let him get his own car last year and they had finally given in. Now he had a deep, royal blue 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda, with a shaker scoop and white body strips on the back end of each side. The interior was black leather. It had been cream-colored, but that turned out to not work so well with their profession.
Gavin sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could try to hide it, but his brother knew him too well. He would never be able to fool him. “I don’t know, there’s just something about this girl – I mean, about this Wicked.” Gavin flinched at his blunder.
Alik studied him thoughtfully. “Hm. I think I know what you mean.”
Catching sight of a flash of red, Gavin sat up straighter. “There she is.” Ava was scurrying across the school parking lot and off campus, with the ear buds she never seemed to take off, in place.
“Looks like we’re hoofing it, bro.” He said.
Sliding out of the car and closing the doors quietly, the brothers followed after Ava. They crossed to the other side of the road and stayed far enough back that they wouldn’t be noticed. After several blocks, they turned into an upper class neighborhood. Seeing Ava turn up a driveway and strolling across the lawn to the front door of the house, Gavin reached over and pulled his brother to a stop behind an overgrown bush. Gavin peeked through the branches. The house was large and painted white with black trim. The yard was well manicured, just like every other lawn in the neightborhood.
Ava had paused at the door. She seemed to hesitate, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she raised her arm up and looked at her watch. Her arm lowered and she shook her head while she reached forward, unlocking the door and going inside.
“What do you think?” Alik asked after a minute.
Gavin pursed his lips. “I’m not sure. I think we need to talk to Mom and Dad and see if they’ve found anything out.” Alik nodded in agreement and with one last glance at the house, the brothers turned around and headed back to the car.
CHAPTER THREE
The kitchen door slammed closed after Gavin and Alik as they trudged into the old farmhouse on the edge of town, which their family was renting. “You’d better hang those coats up, boys. And take those shoes off, I just cleaned these floors.” Their mother chastised from by the stove, shaking the wooden ladle she held at them before returning to her stirring. Rebecca O’Connor was several inches shorter than the boys, at five foot seven. She had an athletic build, pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “And supper’s almost ready, so go get washed up.”
Both boys grumbled something about not needing to wash up under their breath, just as their father walked through the kitchen door, from the living room. Their father, Adam O’Connor, was only slightly taller than the boys at six foot. He had hazel eyes and chestnut brown hair that was graying in spots. Adam was still muscularly built, although his muscle was lean like his sons’, he obviously saw a lot of physical activity.
“Shut your traps and listen to your mother.” Their father ordered, as he crossed the kitchen to the cupboards and began pulling plates out.
Despite his sometimes gruff behavior, their father was a very caring man and a very involved father. Their mother was the same way. It was actually kind of rare for people in their profession to be that way, when they’d lived such hard lives. The ability to be a Curator was passed down from generation to generation, so their mother and father had both grown up in the Curator way of life.
The Curators were guardians of the human race, meant to protect them from the Wicked things that walked the Earth. Anything believed to be supernatural in any way was considered one of the Wicked. The Curators had been hunting down and killing that which they believed to be Wicked, for thousands of years. Each Curator was supposedly blessed with the ability to sense the supernatural when they were near them. It was a feeling that vibrated throughout their bodies and got stronger the closer they got to the Wicked. It was that feeling that Gavin had felt any time he had been near the redheaded girl called Ava, that day.
Gavin and Alik quickly did as they were told and fifteen minutes later, the whole family was sitting at the kitchen table, digging into their meal. They were only a few minutes into it when they got down to business.
“So, boys, tells us about the Wicked you discovered at your school.” Their father asked, swirling some more spaghetti onto his fork. “It was pretty convenient that you found it our first day here – whether it’s actually the Wicked we’re looking for, or not.”
Alik smirked in Gavin’s direction. “Gavin could probably tell you more about the Wicked than I could, since he has art class with it.” Gavin swiftly kicked his brother in the shins. Alik responded with a grimace.
“All right, Gavin, you’re up. What’s it like? Do we have any idea what it is?”
Gavin paused in his chewing, thinking for a moment, before he swallowed and took a drink of water. “She – it, I mean, is quiet and – “ He paused again, frowning as he thought back to the look on her face in art class. “Sad.”
“Quiet and sad?” His father questioned, his brow arched as he studied his son. “Well, that’s a new one.”
Gavin set his fork down. “I know, I don’t think I’ve ever met one so mellow. Usually, they’re very temperamental and easy to set off. But this one,” He shook his head. “The kids at school all treat her like dirt, I saw it myself, several times and she pretty much ignored it.”
Alik nodded. “I agree.”
Their father chewed his food slowly, swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I hope you boys know by now that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” He said, setting the napkin next to his plate. “The Wicked aren’t good. None of them are.”
Both brothers nodded that they understood. “I know that, Dad. I didn’t say that this Wicked was good, just that it seemed different somehow.”
Adam O’Connor’s brows furrowed as he looked from one son to the other. Then, he inclined his head briefly in Gavin’s direction. “Duly noted. Now,” He began, moving the subject on. “We don’t know what it is?”
Gavin and Alik both shook their heads. “The Wicked never once showed any sign of what its supernatural power or ability might be. The only clue to what it might be are the markings it has.”
“Markings?” This question came from their mother.
Gavin nodded. “Yeah. I only saw the ones on its arms – “
Alik’s eyes widened. slightly “You actually got to see them?”
“We used the pottery wheel in class today, so she – it – had to roll up its sleeves. Anyway, the marks on her arms kind of look like feathers. From what one of the girls we met says, the whole thing looks like a raven.”
Their father frowned, tilting his head to the side. “So, this is like a tattoo?”
Gavin shook his head. “No.”
“From what the same girl said, the markings appeared when it was about eight years old.” Alik spoke up.
“They just appeared?” Rebecca O’Connor asked.
“Yep, just appeared.” Gavin said. “Apparently, the parents even tried to have the markings removed by having them lasered off, but they just showed back up a few days later.”
Both their parents winced. “Ouch.” Their mother mumbled.
“Neither of you ever remember hearing about anything like that?” Gavin questioned, glancing from one parent to the other. After all, they’d been doing this their entire lives. Since the ability the Curators had was passed down in families, both Rebecca and Adam O’Connor had grown up learning about and then hunting the Wicked. Just as Gavin and Alik were. Gavin imagined that they knew about nearly every kind of Wicked there was. Well, maybe, anyway. From the look on their faces, Gavin and Alik had just found one their parents didn’t know about.
Confirming Gavin’s suspicions on that, his father shook his head while picking his napkin off the table andusing it to wip his mouth. “No,” he said, a frown marring his features. “That’s a new one for me.” His mother nodded in agreement.
“So,” Alik began with a sigh, “Research?”
Adam O’Connor nodded, pushing away his plate and standing. “Yep, research – and I want you two to keep a close eye on the Wicked, so we can try to catch it in the act.”
That’s it then, Gavin thought, his brow wrinkling as he stood with his dirty dishes, taking them to the kitchen sink. The sad little redhead named Ava is our next target. He couldn’t help thinking as he silently followed his father and brother to the living room to dive into their research, that this time they just may be making a mistake.
****
Laurel was on her the second she walked through the front door. Ava kept her head lowered, her eyes glued to the black and white marble tiles in the foyer. She knew what she would see if she looked up, anyway. Laurel would be standing in front of her, fuming and glaring down her nose at Ava. Her bony hands would be on her hips and one of her feet would be tapping furiously against the tile. Her cheeks would be high with color, her eyes blazing. All because Ava was home half an hour later than she was supposed to be.
Ava’s earbuds were suddenly yanked out and she knew Laurel finally got tired of talking to herself. Quickly, Ava clamped down on the anger within her and dug her fingernails into her palms.
“Where in the world have you been?” Laurel hissed.
Keeping her vigil of the marble floor, Ava began through gritted teeth, “Mr. Portecelli wanted to – “
“Don’t you dare start making excuses.” Laurel snapped, cutting her off. Ava’s jaw clenched. Of course Laurel hadn’t wanted an actual answer, what had she been thinking? Laurel heaved a weary sight. “Oh, go upstairs to your room. Your father isn’t home yet, but I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you when he is.”
Ava’s lip turned up in a silent sneer and she was glad her head was still tilted down. The look would have earned her a slap across the face. Not that it would matter. That was the least of her worries. Still keeping her head down, Ava turned to her left and started up the plush, cream-colored, carpeted staircase.
Her father. She scoffed. Brad Jensen had never been her father, nor would he ever be her father. Just as Laurel had never and would never be her mother. Please, the idea was almost laughable. She may have been forced to take their last name when they adopted her nearly twelve years before, but in her opinion, that didn’t make them her parents. In her opinion, they didn’t do much of anything that would make them her parents.
No. She had no idea who her father was, let alone where he was. And her mother. Her mother – according to the voices – was dead. They said they would be able to feel her if she weren’t and they hadn’t felt her presence since the last time Ava had seen her alive. Now, she had promised to never listen to the voices, but Ava was tempted to believe they were telling the truth about her mother. She felt the truth of it within herself. That and Ava found it hard to believe that her mother wouldn’t have come to find and get her if she were alive. No. Her real mother had loved her dearly. If she were still alive, Ava would be with her right now.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Ava’s feet moved swiftly to her bedroom at the end of the hallway. pushing her door open, she stepped into her sanctuary – the only place in the world she actually had some peace. Her room was actually fairly large, but it was also sparse. She had a twin bed with a plain black bedspread against the wall to her right. Against the wall to the far left were her dresser and desk. On the desk sat her computer and printer, which she was pretty sure she was only allowed to have because of school.
The door to her walk-in closet was to the right of her dresser. Ava knew that a lot of girls would love to have a closet the size of hers, but hers sat empty except for a few bins of her art supplies. All her clothes fit in the dresser with plenty of room to spare. She knew a lot of the girls at school thought what she wore was a choice. And it kind of was. She wore what she felt comfortable in , but also what was affordable. Laurel and Brad rarely gave her any money and when they did, it wasn’t much. It was even rarer that they took her shopping personally.
The wall directly across from the bedroom dor was completely made of windows, with a window bench running underneath them. Every other wall was nearly completely covered with charcoal and pencil drawings of Ava’s and here and there a poem or quote from a song. Directly to the right of the bedroom door was another door, leading to Ava’s private bathroom – something she was very grateful to have. The less time she had to spend in any other part of the house, the better.
Striding across the room, Ava swung her backpack off her shoulders and set I next to her desk. Suddenly, she heard the front door open and close. Her heart jumped to her throat and she froze in place. Maybe Laurel wouldn’t tell him. Ava snorted. Yeah right, fat chance of that happening. The minutes ticked by slowly. Heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Ava took a few deep breaths to calm her thundering heart.
You can’t let him do this again. The voices started up. He’s hurting you. He’s hurting us. You can’t let him hurt us. You’re supposed to protect us. They wailed.
Ava squeezed her eyes shut. Go away. She pleaded.
Let us help. Let us help. Let us help. It can all stop tonight.
Get out of my head!
“Ava!” Brad’s voice thundered from outside her door. “Get out here now!”
Don’t do this! The voices begged as Ava gumbled with her earbuds, putting them back in with trembling fingers. Dread filled her as she went to the door. Opening it, she slipped into the hall.
His thinning black hair was slicked back like usual. Brad’s nostrils flared in his round face, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping down slightly from where they were perched. Ava’s door clicked into place as it closed behind her. “What exactly did you think you were doing coming home late from school?” He snapped.
“Mr. Portecelli wanted to talk to me.” Ava tried to explain quietly.
“And what kind of trouble were you making this time?”
“I wasn’t – “
A fist in her side stopped Ava from saying any more. Grabbing her side, she stumbled and bent over slightly as she gasped for breath. “Don’t make excuses!” Brad snarled. “You know you’re supposed to come straight home from school.”
Ava closed her eyes as Brad rolled up his shirt sleeves. It would be a good day if he only used his fists. Ava forced herself to focus on the music flowing out of the ear buds as Brad’s fist connected with her stomach and she doubled over in pain. The voices shrieked their horror and outrage as Brad’s fists pounded into her. She blocked them and him out as best as she could, focusing instead on the words of the song playing.
Brad and Laurel Jensen had been looking into adoption when Ava had been brought to the orphanage after she’d been found wandering the park by herself. They thought adoption would be good for their social standing, since they would be “doing good for the community and what-not.” Then they saw Ava and decided to adopt her.
It wasn’t so bad at the beginning. They weren’t the best parents, but they weren’t horrible. Really, they ignored her for the most part, unless they had company to parade her in front of. Then, two years after Ava was adopted, Brad lost his job and started drinking heavily. Shortly after that, the mark of the raven showed up on Ava’s back and arms and she was soon regarded as a freak and social outcast. The Jensens had at first tried to laser the mark off. When that didn’t work, they considered getting rid of her, but that would have just made them look worse. So, they kept her.
One night, while he was drunk, Brad got really mad at Ava and hit her a few times. He didn’t hit her too hard, but it was hard enough to leave marks. Soon, he began hitting her whenever he needed to relieve some tension. Almost a year later, Brad got his job back, but the beatings didn’t stop. It was almost like he was obsessed with, or addicted to, the feeling of euphoria he got when he hurt Ava.
It wasn’t as if Ava would ever tell anyone. Who else would adopt her when she was freak of nature, anyway? And she couldn’t let the voices help make him stop. She had promised. And she was never going to break that promise. Ava wasn’t sure she was capable of intentionally doing what she had done all those years ago, again, anyway. So, the beatings continued. Over the years, they got worse and worse – even though he always managed to stay away from her face. Ava was surprised Brad hadn’t killed her yet. Sometimes she wished he would just get it over with and put her out of her misery.