Pretty Monster Read online

  A barrage of fire and ice hurtled towards her, slamming her to the ground so hard, the wind was knocked out of her.

  But her passionate hatred for the man quickly brought her back to her feet, and she hit him right back with a taste of his own medicine.

  Her ice melted before it hit him, and her fire subsided to smoke.

  He was powerful.

  His turn.

  The earth beneath her began to shake, the dirt disappearing like quicksand. But before she could force herself into the air, he was doing it for her: the wind around her turned into a tornado, spinning and jarring her until she was suspended fifteen feet in the air.

  Shrieking fiercely, she projected a blast of electricity so intense, the students across the way doubled over in pain. The shock distracted him from his tornado, and the wind slowed, allowing her to drop back down to the ground. Before he could conjure up his next attack, she was on to her next: She walked up to him, looked him into the eyes, and hissed, “Kneel.”

  He did not.

  He glared down at her, eyes blazing, and that was when she felt it. Something unlike anything she had felt before. Complete, utter captivity. All she could think, all she could want, was to do exactly what he said.

  “Kneel,” he commanded.

  She did.

  He turned away from her, looking back toward the rest of the class and allowing her to rise to her feet. Several members of the class burst into cheers. Angel’s, Quinn noticed in annoyance, were the loudest. The rest of the class looked at her with a mixture of surprise and sympathy.

  How was this possible? How could he have all of the abilities she had—probably more? How could he, of all people, be the only person she had ever met who was so much like her?

  She hated him.

  “The lesson to be learned here,” Dash told the class, “is not that I am more powerful than she is. You have all seen what she can do. The entire world has.” He didn’t say this with any admiration. “The lesson to be learned is that I have spent the last ten years separating my abilities from my emotions, and she has spent the last ten years operating off pure emotion.”

  She stared at her classmates’ faces, disgusted even more by their excited and inspired looks than by the idiocy of what he was saying.

  “We’ll break into the regular pairs,” he said, apparently done with that train of thought. “Angel, Drax. Pence, Haley. Trent, Charlie. Izzo, Tommy. And Shade, it looks like you finally have a partner other than me.”

  The pale-skinned, elusive young man Quinn had noticed several times, but not met, looked over at Quinn without a hint of curiosity or excitement. In fact, she couldn’t read a single thought he was having.

  “Shade,” Dash said, “when she is ready, I’d like you to introduce Quinn to one of your illusions. When she says stop, I would like you to stop.”

  Illusions?

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn said, staring at Dash in disbelief. “This is your idea of power stabilization? Pitting people against each other in a free-for-all?”

  “Free-for-all? This isn’t a free-for-all. You are not free to return fire on Shade here. He unleashes on you, then, once you’ve surrendered, you’ll have your chance with him.”

  “Who says I’ll surrender?”

  “Everyone surrenders. Just remember: use your abilities against him before his time is up, and you lose. Automatically.”

  She groaned. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Shade looked over at her, still not revealing a hint of emotion. “Does that mean you’re ready?”

  “Yes, dead eyes,” she snapped, “I’m ready.”

  Shade placed his hands together, closed his eyes, and breathed. For several seconds, nothing changed. Quinn stared at him, poised, waiting.

  All of a sudden, everything became black—not dark; not shadowy—a true, endless black unlike anything she had ever experienced.

  Her heart nearly stopped in fear, but she refused to show it. She wouldn’t let him win. Not after letting Dash win.

  “Nice trick,” she teased. “So, if I don’t surrender, do I just stand here in the dark until class is over?”

  But he said nothing, and neither did Dash. In fact, come to think of it, she couldn’t hear anything, either. Was that possible? Was Shade so good that he could affect not only what she saw, but what she heard, too?

  Or was no one saying anything because no one cared?

  A spinning sensation was next. First, tiny white lights began to appear, almost like dim stars. Not bright enough to light her way, but bright enough to catch her eye—and, as they began to spin and swirl around her, enough to make her dizzy.

  The gravitational forces around her began to make her dizzy, too—as if she was floating. This, combined with the moving stars, almost made her feel like she was falling through outer space. It was simultaneously one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and one of the most frightening.

  “Very cool,” she told him, hearing the tremble in her own voice but ignoring it. “Think they offer something similar at Disney World.”

  And, suddenly, the spinning stopped. And the lights went away. And she was left with the darkness. Just the darkness. And…

  Her sharp intake of air was so loud, she was sure it echoed for miles around. Her hand flew to her lips, a sea of tears flying to her eyes.

  “Kurt?” she whispered.

  She knew it wasn’t true, knew it couldn’t be him, knew he was dead, knew ghosts weren’t real, but there he was, standing in front of her. He was a ghostly, glowing, frightening version of Kurt, but those were his sweet, sad eyes, and that was his small, goofy smile, and—

  And suddenly he was being shot—over and over again—so many times, his thin, gangly body was being shredded to pieces. She reached out to touch him, to hold him, to protect him, but the closer she got to him, the farther he was, like some terrible, taunting mind game—which was exactly what it was, and she knew that, and yet…

  She screamed, punching at the air, knowing perfectly well how it looked and not caring. Hating everything and everyone around her, everywhere.

  “You sick fuck,” she screamed, not at Kurt but at Shade, at the terrible, cruel man hidden somewhere before her, “you do not get to see him, you do not get to know of him, you do not get—”

  And, suddenly, everything disappeared. And she was back in the real world.

  She looked from Shade over to Dash, and back to Shade, then over at the students, all of whom had stopped to watch her. For several seconds, no one said a word.

  Then Shade asked her, in utter confusion, “Can you see us?”

  She stared back at him, just as confused. He hadn’t ended the illusion? He hadn’t heard her screams and freed her from the spell?

  “Yes, I can see you,” she said, her voice still shaking. “Did you not mean to stop?”

  Shade looked down at his own hands as if questioning everything about them. “No. This has never happened before.”

  Quinn let that sink in for a second, but it didn’t take long. She turned back to Dash. “Who did you say he was training with before I came along?” she asked him pointedly, knowing the answer perfectly well. If anything could make up for Dash defeating her in combat, it was her breaking away from an illusion that he couldn’t.

  “Impressive,” he admitted. “But your stopping Shade was a result of pure emotion, not conscious control. Your rage may have gotten you this far, but it exhausts you. Last time, it landed you in a 24-hour coma. If you don’t learn how to harness it, it could get you killed.”

  She was in no mood for a lecture. The images of Kurt were still burning in her head; all she wanted was to retaliate against Shade. “Is it my turn yet?”

  He sighed, gesturing for her to begin.

  She turned to face Shade. One look at the cold, dark eyes that had made her see such terrible things was all she needed to decide what to do next. It was something she only reserved for the very worst people—the people who had done unspeakab
le things to her.

  Showing her Kurt’s death—making her relive her own inability to prevent it—to her, that was the most unspeakable.

  “When you’re ready,” she told him, voice simultaneously silky-smooth and stinging. She could see the effect it had on his nerves instantly.

  “I’m ready,” he said, looking just the opposite.

  She took a step toward him, then another, until she was inches from his face. She gazed into his dark, emotionless eyes, knowing the effect her gaze had on him before the words escaped her lips.

  “Immeasurable pain.”

  He screamed ten times louder than she had.

  It was only a few seconds before he begged her to stop, and she did, just before Dash reached her to force her to. Once she stopped, she looked down at Shade. He was little more than a curled-up ball of a boy, still whimpering.

  She turned back to Dash, daring him to challenge her.

  And, of course, he did.

  “That was heartless,” he told her, voice thick with disgust. “Cruel.”

  She didn’t blink, didn’t back down, not even for a second. He didn’t get to judge her. Not then. Not after what had just happened to her.

  When she spoke, her voice was laced with an honest sadness that she hadn’t intended to reveal. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t owe him any explanations.

  “You don’t know what he made me see.”

  • • •

  She and Shade were both excused at that point, leaving early as Dash turned his attention to the rest of the students. She didn’t care. She couldn’t believe Ridley had recommended the class to her. She couldn’t believe such a class was allowed to exist, even at a place like this.

  She considered calling Ridley, giving him a piece of her mind, letting off some steam. She considered calling Reese, too. She was sure he wouldn’t mind hearing her complain about his little brother—not after the earful he had given her on the same subject.

  But in the end, she didn’t do either of those things, heading instead to the dining hall for a nice, quiet meal before the dinner rush hit.

  Or so she hoped.

  “Quinn!” exclaimed Rory from her spot alone at one of the tables. She jumped away from her food, running over to hug Quinn at the counter. Quinn stiffened on instinct, surprised that the girl thought they were anywhere near hugging terms, but didn’t bother pushing her away.

  “Hi,” Quinn managed, awkwardly patting the girl on the head. “Uh… Rory, right?”

  “Yep! It’s so nice to see you again. I’m so glad you’re feeling better! You’ll sit with me, won’t you?”

  Quinn considered ordering her food to go, but didn’t have the heart to do that to the doe-eyed girl staring up at her. She tried to force a smile. “Sure.”

  Rory cheered, running back over to her plate and staring anxiously back at Quinn as she ordered her food. By the time Quinn made it to the table, Rory was already finished eating. But Quinn had a feeling she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Rory,” Quinn said, scanning the room, which seemed to have five or ten occupants about Rory’s age. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask me anything you’d like,” Rory said eagerly.

  “Okay… Why aren’t you sitting with the other kids your own age?”

  “Oh.” Rory visibly deflated. Quinn instantly felt guilty for asking, but knew it was too late to take it back. “Well… I don’t know. They all think I’m weird. They’re just jealous, I think. I’m really powerful, you know. Not like you, but…”

  Quinn laughed. “Really. And what, may I ask, are your abilities?”

  “Well, electricity, thanks for asking! I can do really big bursts of it, too. If you wanted me to, I could shock everybody in this room with a big blast, right now!”

  Quinn grinned. “Maybe another time. But I’m certainly impressed.”

  “Thanks,” Rory said fondly. “I know you have some electric powers, too. I’ve seen you use them on TV a lot.”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Quinn said, thinking back to the giant shockwave she’d thrown at Dash earlier. She’d almost had him at that point, she marveled. Maybe she should kick her electric practice up a notch.

  Quinn chewed on her chicken, watching Rory observe everyone in the room. She was very perceptive for her age, Quinn noticed.

  “Can I ask you another question?” Quinn asked.

  Rory nodded.

  “Do you take the power stabilization class with Dash, too?”

  “Not with Dash. He doesn’t work with the kids. We have another teacher who’s not nearly as good as him.”

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

  “We barely even use our abilities in class! It’s all about what she calls ‘suppression.’ All we really do is use them a tiny bit and then practice not using them any more.”

  “That sounds pretty pointless, doesn’t it? You go through years with a teacher who tells you not to use your abilities, and then you graduate to a teacher who runs a Gladiator-style tournament every day? And our uptight President Savannah is okay with that?”

  Rory’s eyes widened. “Be careful how loud you say that stuff,” she whispered. “And I don’t know. Savannah comes to our classes all the time, but I never see her and Dash together. Maybe he’s ignoring her rules?”

  That certainly threw Quinn for a loop. Dash was the one ignoring Savannah’s rules? Sure, it would surprise her if Savannah encouraged him to push people’s abilities to their limits, given that she was all about rules and regulations, but Reese had told her that Dash and Savannah were birds of a feather. So why would Dash do something so openly rebellious? There had to be more to the story; she just couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  “I can tell you don’t like him,” Rory said. “But I do. I don’t think he cares what his mom wants him to do. I think he cares about us. Letting us get strong in a healthy way.” She grinned. “Well, mostly healthy.”

  Quinn found Rory more and more fascinating by the minute. She might not agree with her assessment of Dash, but she couldn’t deny the girl’s smarts. “You’re pretty damn bright for a kid. You know that?”

  “I know. But I don’t mind hearing it from my favorite person in the world.”

  You won’t think that for long, Quinn wanted to tell her. Just wait until you get to know me. You’ll run for the hills.

  It was her automatic response to the kinds of statements Rory had made, ingrained into her for years. It was the response she would have given Haley, Ridley, or even Reese if any of them had dared telling her that she was their favorite person in the world.

  But something about the way Rory said it made Quinn stop herself. Something about the way Rory was looking at her made her actually want to be the heroine the girl thought she was.

  What were these people doing to her?

  5. ROOFTOPS

  Quinn wasn’t sure what to expect when she said her goodbyes to Rory and made her way back to the dorms. Sure, Dash had given her a hard time after she had put Shade in immeasurable pain, but she hadn’t stopped to see what everyone else thought. It would certainly make her living situation more tense if Haley was now afraid of her.

  Quinn could tell before opening the door that Haley was there. She could hear the hushed whispers and concerned voices on the other side.

  “…got to figure out what happened with her and Dash.” Male voice. Deep. If she had to guess, she’d say Trent. “I mean, sure, the dude’s a prick, but I’ve never seen him act that harsh.”

  She smiled to herself, satisfied with both legs of that statement. Other students thought Dash was a prick, too. And they understood that she had been singled out and inappropriately treated. Right?

  “Yeah,” said another voice, female—not Haley’s, but still familiar. “But whatever happened with her and Dash has nothing to do with what she did to Shade. I mean… that was borderline cruel.”

  Why didn’t anyone understand that what Shade had d
one to her was worse? Simply because they couldn’t see it themselves?

  “We should stop talking about her and wait for her to get here so we can ask her ourselves,” said a third voice. This one was Haley’s. “Which brings us back to… where is she?”

  Quinn took that as her cue, turning the knob and stepping inside. They looked panicked, which gave her a bit of satisfaction. Haley, Trent, Pence, and Charlie, she assessed. Pence must have been the one criticizing her.

  “Quinn,” Haley said, standing up. Trent stood, as well; the other two remained seated. “We were worried.”

  “About me? Let me give you a piece of advice: never worry about me. It’ll drive you mad and I’ll always be fine in the end.”

  She felt Trent’s eyes on her as she spoke, and she snuck him a small, teasing grin. She didn’t know why she did it, exactly. Manipulating boys like Trent had always been so easy for her—so familiar. How many Trents had she met in the real world? Crashed with when she had nowhere else to go? Conned into doing things they wouldn’t normally do? Dozens, if not more. They were typically the more harmless of the bunch. Sure, they only wanted one thing, but at least she always knew what that one thing was.

  “Not just you,” Pence said to her. “We were worried about Shade, too.”

  Quinn had to give her credit for saying the same thing to her face she had been saying behind her back.

  “Oh,” she said, edging up to the challenge, “you mean because of the three seconds of pain that I put him in? You’re right. My own teacher unleashes the flames of hell and a death barrage of ice on me, not to mention sticking me in a tornado. Then your precious little Shade puts images in my head I won’t be able to erase for the rest of my life. But let’s all worry about the three seconds of pain I put him in instead, right?”

  Everyone fell silent. Pence looked guilty.

  “I thought it was a training class,” Quinn continued, shaking her head. “Ask me the last time the pain I went through was only three seconds. When I got shot at by a firing squad of DCA agents just a few days ago? When they tried releasing a mixture of smoke and laughing gas into my house while I was sleeping a few months before that?” She stopped herself at that, not wanting to go into any more detail with these people.