Page 143 of Victorious

It was a whole ordeal.

After that, she tried building a life from scratch, choosing a body but not the strings that came with it. It seemed a better plan, and she’d gotten nearly two months in, long enough to make friends, get a job, have the beginnings of a life. Only to wake up in the middle of the night back in her own body, side on fire, the shape she’d chosen suddenly gone. Plucked from her closet by death.

That was the problem with borrowed bodies.

Other people had them first. And last.

It was so exasperating. What was the point of putting all that time and energy into being someone else, only for the person whose body she was borrowing to have a heart attack, or fall down some stairs, and render all her hard work useless?

For years she’d wondered who she might have been, without that cataclysmic crossroads, what kind of life she would have lived, if she’d stayed human.

But now, she understood. It didn’t really matter.

That other girl was dead.

And June was here.

Here, and skimming the surface of a life she didn’t care about, so she wouldn’t care if she lost it. Playing dress-up, without the purpose or the payoff. But normal was an off-the-rack suit—it didn’t fit.

And June missed her old life. Her old job.

The thrill of the hunt. The satisfaction of the kill. The little electric pulse that shot through her when she pulled a trigger, or felt a body go slack under her hands.

And if that made her a terrible person, well, she never claimed to be a good one.

She slipped the apron off, and let it drop to the alley floor, tugging her cell from her back pocket. The first thing she saw was a new ping from Victor.

A phantom pain shot through her side.

He’d messaged her once a month since she went dark, the texts all brief, nothing but her name followed by a question mark. She could have just gotten a new phone, but the thought of losing her only connection to Syd had stopped her. That one bridge she couldn’t bring herself to burn. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to go back, either.

June swiped left, erasing the latest text.

She opened an encrypted app, and scrolled until she found what she was looking for. She answered the listing, and felt her spirits lift, her focus sharpen.

“May!” shouted Max. “Break’s over.”

She pushed off the wall and smiled.

He was right.

IVNOW. THEN.

8 HOURS BEFORE THE END

BETHANY ADVENTURE LAND

VICTOR hadn’t seen Mitch in nearly three years, and the first thing he said was “You look like shit.”

It was true. There were bruises blooming on his cellmate’s cheek, and around both wrists, and when he staggered down out of the transport van, he clutched his side, taking shallow breaths in a way that would have told Victor his ribs were broken, even if he hadn’t been able to tell.

Victor’s fingers gave an incremental twitch, turning the invisible dial all the way down, and the strain melted out of Mitch’s body. He slumped against the side of the van, expression sliding briefly from pain to relief before giving way to indignation.

When he met Victor’s eyes, his own were dark.

“Your powers,” he said. “How long have you had them back?”

It was a long story, and this wasn’t the time, so Victor simply said, “Awhile.”