The Star Caster (11 page)

I sigh and stand up. I don’t want
him to have to say anything more to me. I glance at Sterren as Val turns around, and I shrug instead of saying something out loud. I’ll just have to tell him what happens when I come back.

Val leads me to the stairs that we used last night. The corridors and staircases must lead to multiple places
, and I wonder how far we will have to walk to get to our destination. The stairs twist, and we walk up three flights before exiting and turning to the right. The walls up here are a lighter shade of the stone downstairs, and I let my hand trail along their smooth surfaces. The walls are still bare, with intermittent oil lamps that cast a soft glow along the hallway.

We walk for about fifty feet until Val stops in front of a
burgundy door. It’s a large door, with an ornate door knocker that is in the shape of a human skull. It sparkles in gold that mimics my left eye color. I shudder as Val reaches up to hit it against the red door.

“
Come in.”

I swallow and nearly wince as Val pushes the door open. I follow him in to a dark room. It is decorated in elaborate reds
and dark greys. Large, Persian rugs cover every inch of the stone floor, and a chair that I can only describe as a king’s throne, sits in the center. Naturally, the man that I am here to see is sitting there.

“Star Caster,” he says as he waves his hand to show me his home.

I bow my head, not really knowing how to properly greet this man, and move until I am standing in front of him. He is still wearing his black veil, and I can’t help but to stare at his hands, because they are the only proof of his humanity. His fingers are thick and stained with dirt; they tap against the wooden armrests, an even and calming motion. When he stops, my eyes are pulled back up to where his would be. I focus on him, staring at some section of his face.

“It is time to see who you are truly working for,” he says.

I don’t speak, remembering what Ego told me about this man.

“My name,” he begins, “is
Vick. I am someone that was broken when I was younger. First, I was broken by my mother, who abused me both physically and mentally.” Vick pulls at the veil that covers his face and lets it fall into his lap. I lift my eyes to look at the man before me, and am not surprised to see that he is heavily disfigured. Where his eyebrows should have been, are thick scars that stick out like some kind of growth. Deep scratch marks trail across his jaw. His right eye droops, and I can tell that he really was broken.

“Then, I was thrown into abusive foster homes. No man or woman would look at me as a potential adoption. They pitied me, but would not love a man like me.
You see, they thought that I would end up like this: demented and vengeful. They never thought that it would be because of them, though; they thought it was because of my mother.”

I can’t help but shake my head.

Vick chuckles and loosens the material that covers his broad chest. There are multiple scars across his body, but the one that sticks out the most is the smaller, circular one that is positioned above his heart. It indicates that someone tried to kill him once.

“Lastly,” he says, “I was the victim of an attempted murder.
Who, you ask? My father was the person. Unfortunately, I do not know where he is.”

I knit my brows, confused now.

Vick chuckles, his large eyes crinkling at the edges. “My mother was a common whore. She sold her body for drugs and much less.”

This time I raise my eyebrows in understanding. That explains everything.

“I had a photograph of my father when I was younger. My mother gave it to me on one of her good days. When he came to me, I knew it was him.”

“But why did he try to kill you?” I ask.

Vick stands up and towers over me. He moves closer, and I have to force every muscle in my body to stay still. This is not the time to bolt. He needs me right now.

“This
is the proof I have,” he says as he holds up a sheet of paper. The edges are tattered and every inch of the paper is faded into blues and greys. However, it is still readable, and it takes moments for me to figure out what it says. Cash Reward: for the head of the ugliest man alive. “Apparently, drugs are more important than any child,” he says angrily.

“Did he know it
meant you, though?” I’m trying to find a way out of this, a way to make this man’s life appear better than it had been so far. I mentally cross my fingers, hoping that it was just a coincidence.

“Of course.”

Wow. Nevermind.

“Do you understand now?”
Vick asks me, and I realize that I do.

“Why did you need to know whether I could grant a wish for love?”

“I am not just a monster,” he says shyly. “I want a woman to love as well.”

“Why don’t you just ask to have your scars removed?”

Vick sighs but shrugs. “I want to be reminded of my past.”

I bite my lip but understand his reasons.

“It is now time for you to leave, Star Caster. I must be left alone with my thoughts. I must be left alone to contemplate my new existence.”

I want to speak, to convince him to change his mind, but bite my tongue.
At least he isn’t someone that wants to destroy the world, like the twins had wanted to. And then, suddenly, I can’t keep quiet.

“What about Val?”
I ask. “What is his place?”

Vick, who had been turning back
toward his seat, stops. He turns toward me, and I see a flicker of annoyance cross his features. I had been warned, though, and I can’t do anything about it now. “They were my source.”

But why had they been talking about their own wishes? Had it been wishful thinking? Or were they going to use me when Vick was finished?
I shudder at my last thought, and hope that my first one is correct.

Vick d
oesn’t say another word. Instead, he just turns back around, silently instructing me to go – or else. I don’t want to stick around long enough to figure out what the “or else” is, because I’m sure it’s horrible. So, I leave the room.

I’m
in the hall for thirty seconds before Val barrels out angrily. “How dare you!” he says as he raises his hand to slap my face.

I step back automatically and thro
w my hands in the air. Val misses me, but barely. His hand flies past my face in a whirl of flesh and grey. I stand there, waiting for him to rear back up, to take another shot, but he doesn’t. Instead, he falls into himself and walks forward.

Shocked, I turn to watch him walk away from me. His strength and self-control surprise me right now, and I bite my lower lip, confused.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say as I move to follow him back down to the living area. I might as well tell him how I feel.

Val shrugs, not wanting to talk about it. He just pushes forward, his dark cloak dragging across the smooth stone.

“Why do you want me?” I ask before I can stop myself. Gosh, what’s up with me? Why am I being so bold today?

Val stops. “
I told you why,” he says tiredly. Wow, he has changed. It’s almost like he’s dying right in front of me.

I bite my lower lip, not wanting to push him.

“I am no different than Vick. I was tortured and ridiculed. I was broken.” Val turns to face me then, and he looks up for the first time. I can see his real face, not just the bits and pieces that I caught beforehand. The scar is still there, along with the dry, cracked lips and the dark eyes. But there is something different, something that I hadn’t seen before: resign. “The world needs to be taught a lesson. The humans need to feel what I have been made and forced to feel. They need to be broken.”

“Why everyone?”

“I was bullied. I was kicked and hit every day for eighteen years. And no one did a thing. No adults looked, no administrator stopped it. Every day I was ignored by those who were supposed to protect me.”

A fresh wave of sympathy flows through my veins, and I can tell that Val hears it.
And I get it. He wanted to hear their thoughts of him; he wanted to know what they really thought. That was the reason behind his wish.

“Yes,” he whispers.

I swallow and nod once, understanding the truth behind both of these men. These men were tired of being outcasts. They were tired of people standing by and watching them suffer through their rough lives. They were ready to take action.

Val turns, ending the conversation after listening to my inner monologue. He walks, much more quickly this time, and I am downstairs in a couple minutes.
“I will gather you when we are ready,” he says.

I nod and walk down the last few steps and into Sterren’s open arms. I feel his poor heart beating against my ear, and I know that he was worried about my safety.

“What happened up there?” he murmurs. “You were gone for quite a while.”

I pull away and look up at Sterren. “I wasn’t gone long.”

Sterren smiles slightly. “You’ve been gone for over an hour,” he whispers shyly. I can see a slight blush rush across his cheeks, and know that he is embarrassed for thinking that I was gone longer than he liked.

“Oh,” I respond. “I didn’t realize I was gone that long. I was talking to Vick. He told me about his past, about what he wants with my wishes.”

Sterren’s hands trace down the length of my arms, and he pulls me away from the staircase when his hands find their way to mine. His hands are warm and soft. They fit perfectly with mine. I smile up at him when I spot the plate on the counter.

“I didn’t realize that you’d be gone so long,” Sterren says as he pushes a plate of bacon and eggs in my direction.

I shake my head, realizing how hungry I
am. I hadn’t eaten since I was kidnapped. Frozen or scalding, it would all be wonderful now. “Thank you,” I say as I pick up a crunchy slice of bacon. The first bite is spectacular, but within minutes the bacon has vanished.

Sterren laughs as he watches me shove the eggs in my mouth. Some of it falls onto my lap, but I pick it up and shove that into my mouth as well. There is no reason to worry about lady-like manners right now. I’m seriously starving.

When I am full, I begin to have second thoughts about my behavior. “I’m sorry,” I say after taking a sip of the glass of milk that sits in front of me.

Sterren shakes his head. “Don’t worry. Believe me
; I know what it’s like to feel hunger. And there is no reason to be polite.”

I let out the air that I held in my lungs, relieved. I smile in thanks and proceed to tell him about what happened upstairs. When I am finished, Sterren leans back and tilts his head to the side, clearly
captivated by Vick and Val’s stories.

“I r
eally had no clue,” he admits. “I just thought Val was evil and crazy.”

“I think he’s crazy because of the voices in his head. What was he like before? Because when he told his story, he was different. He
was almost more human,” I declare.

Sterren bites his lip, thinking. “I think he was more human back then. I think that he lost it over time,” he agrees. “But, I also think that he doesn’t want to be reminded of his humanity. Val seems like he wants to forget, like he doesn’t want to be a part of the race that hurt him so badly.”

“I don’t blame him. I hate witnessing people with bad behavior, people that live their lives making poor decisions.”

Sterren mumbles in agreement. “But does it ever make you want to be something different?”

For a moment, I am stumped. Did I ever want to stop being human because of something they did? No, I had focused on the good inside us. I shake my head, knowing that I would always claim to be human. I would never claim to be anything more; I would never claim to be special or different. I would never claim to be jaded or scarred. The experiences I have had, whether good or bad, would shape me into a well-rounded person. And I would be whole.

But would I feel that way if I had been dealt a card like Vick’s?
I didn’t know.

Chapter 9

“It is time,” Val says as he steps into the room. He is still wearing that same dark cloak, but as I sit up, I notice that something has been added. He wears a purple broach on his chest. It is connected to a ribbon that hangs there, a distant reminder of Ego, who was killed in battle. It isn’t exactly a purple heart, but it means the same thing.

I stand up, releasing myself from Sterren’s arms. I’m ready to do this. I never thought that I would be ready to do this, but I am. Vick comes around the corner a
s I’m thinking this. And in some way, I feel connected to him. We have both lost things, and we have both been forced to fight for our freedom. He’s not wearing his veil, and I can feel the mood change; it shifts from greys to darker blues, like indifference fading into depression. “Let’s go, Star Caster. I have my first wish, and it cannot be wasted,” he says powerfully.

I nod and step forward.

Sterren’s hand reaches out to grab mine. “What are you doing?” he asks me desperately.