Exaltation (Insight #11)(45)
“She hasn’t hooked up with anyone?” Dagen tried to confirm.
Kade nodded to a car on the starting line. “As far as I know Tyler came the closest. Last summer they spent a few minutes in a dark corner at the rink, or so he claims. He said he was going to hit that up when the school year started back up but they moved schools again. He started winning races so he never goes inside the rink anymore. Raven is like a unicorn. You’ve heard of her, you think you’ve seen her, but you’ll never catch her. The twins aren’t much easier—hence why I have to play this right with River.” Kade glared at the starting line. “Even if you do have the fastest car in town there is no guarantee they’ll stick around—not materialistic girls.”
Rydell glanced at the nineteen eighty Camaro and took his frustration out on it. One hard glare from him disintegrated the water pump right as Tyler was revving up his engine. A loud pop, white smoke, and it was all over. The boy ran like a girl from the car.
Dagen glanced down at Rydell with a half grin. Rydell felt better so he smirked, nearly laughed.
“Looks like you’re in the race now. Let’s take a look at your car,” Dagen said.
Dagen glanced back at Rydell to ask if he was coming. Rydell shook his head no.
He was heading to The Realm. He wanted to ask around some more about this hell he was in. He had to figure out how to get around it. Fever or not, thinking of killing this girl didn’t sit right with him. She was downright innocent. Her vim was pure joy, not quiet exaltation, but more like bliss, the ride down from the rush of the emotion Rydell fed from.
Before she was just a name, something that had to be dealt with. Now it was something else…
Inside The Realm Rydell not only sensed Jamison, but Raven, too. He searched high and low for them, following the scent. He couldn’t find her and was sure they had her cloaked.
He was leaning over a rail, peering down at the first level of The Realm. Box seats is what they called this manifestation Rydell was standing on. Escorts could see all the little fantasies and nightmares below from there.
The scent of cinnamon wafted in the air. Rydell glanced to his side.
Britain. Awesome, Rydell thought.
He’d heard he was lingering near where the Helco faction was camping out.
“You on the hunt for your mark?” Rydell asked him nonchalantly.
Britain wasn’t dressed for a hunt. Rydell was sure his suit cost a fortune in the real world. It gave him a well-deserved royal air. Britain’s image resembled a twenty year old at best, but even someone that had no knowledge of vim would be able to discern his power.
Rydell had always liked him. His line was obsession which meant their hunts were usually close. Obsession drove the souls to find that next emotion of exaltation. Rydell respected his line, too; they didn’t follow the norm. At least not all the way.
They would find a host, a being with a lot of power and light and live next to them for the duration of the human life, feeding off only one. It wasn’t a fever or rush kind of thing, it was survival.
They had class. Britain’s line sat down to a gourmet meal every night. The others didn’t care where the emotions came from or what soul was behind them.
Rydell had thought about adapting to their style when he created his own faction but exaltation was not an emotion that one soul could feel over and over again, and surely not constantly like obsession.
“You boys finally decide to join the game?” Britain asked as his gaze moved around the dimension below. “Haven’t seen your sovereign out lurking.”
“Makes two of us.”
“Trouble in the party house?” Britain commented wryly.
“When is there not?”
“That’s right, rumor has it you’ve begun your own little faction. How many followers so far?”
Rydell was somewhere past twenty million but that was only a drop in the bucket compared to what the sovereigns led, so he was not in a position to brag.
“Not in that game. Just want to be free,” Rydell said, clearly pointing out he had no dreams of being a sovereign one day.
Britain tensed next to Rydell then looked deep in his eyes. “That right?”
“Who doesn’t? I don’t want any part of this curse you boys are toying with.”
“Like we did.”
“Did anyone ask the Creator how to get out of it—I mean maybe a ‘hey, pops, didn’t mean to act out. I’ll play nice now.’”
Britain chuckled. “Even if he would listen, if all of this was not deep into play, we would not change.”
“We deserve a chance,” Rydell bit out.
“You took one. Did you change?”
Truth hurts. “Wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“And, all in all, we’re not either. We rarely end life; we just make it more uncomfortable. No one is changing and the Creator is nowhere in sight. He set a trap and I’m sure he will pop back in when it is all said and done and see who’s still standing.”
“No way out?” Rydell pressed.
“You really want my advice?”
One nod.
“You can’t trust anyone. I mean anyone. We’re in survival mode. There are only two ways out. Death or getting one of them to fall for you. The latter will not happen.”
“Why is that?” Rydell asked, wondering if Britain was about to assure him he did not, in fact, have a fever for this Raven girl.