by Anna Webb
Finally looking up, Jason gave her another signature look of exasperation. “When are you going learn—we’re Gifted, Norm laws don’t apply to us.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Stealing is stealing, whether we’re Gifted or not.”
“Yes, but Norm laws can’t do anything to stop us.” A distinctly wicked grin spread across Jason’s face. “The Norms are just lucky they generally don’t have anything worth stealing.”
“That is the most entitled thing I’ve ever heard,” Allyra spat out, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.
For a long moment, Jason stared at her, his eyes burning into hers in a battle of wills. Then suddenly he grabbed her hand, his fingers biting into her wrist, jerking her into another dark room. He pulled open a cupboard door, behind which a safe was hidden. The electronic lock took no time at all for him to crack, and he reached in and pulled something out.
It took a long, sluggish second for her mind to process what he was holding. A gun. Pointed directly at her. Before she could speak, he’d stepped closer to her, twirling the gun in his hand until it was pointed back at him. Taking her hands in his, he wrapped her fingers around the gun and pushed its muzzle into his chest.
“Pull the trigger,” he said with quiet intensity.
Everything happened so quickly Allyra struggled to wrap her mind around the fact that she was holding a gun and somehow Jason was asking her to kill him. She shook her head. “No…”
“Pull the damn trigger,” he said, more forcefully.
She shook her head again and his jaw hardened.
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll do it then.”
Her mind was too slow, dripping like syrup from a spoon—sticky and languorous. She had no chance to react before he pressed her finger to the trigger and the gun exploded in her hands. The sound was sharper than a crack of the whip, bouncing around in her head, echoing over and over until she thought it would be the only sound she would ever hear again.
Her eyes darted to Jason’s chest, sure that blood would be spreading across it, like a crimson flower blooming across his chest. But there was—nothing. She lifted her gaze and found him looking at her with a mocking smile. He held out his hand between them and slowly unfurled his long, elegant fingers. Lying on the palm of his hand was a flattened metal disk, still glowing red with the heat of his Gift.
“Even their most powerful weapons would have no effect against us. The Norms could turn a million guns against us, and a Terra would have the Earth swallow them whole. An Atmospheric would turn their bullets back at them, an Inferno would melt the guns in their hands, and an Oceanic would create a tsunami to crest over them. The Norms should be grateful that we live peacefully alongside them, that our minds have never turned to war.”
The weight of his words sank slowly, turning her blood to ice. She opened her mouth to speak, to argue, but words escaped her, leaving her gaping like a fish out of water. Jason watched her silently and then gave a small shake of his head, bored with her lack of response. He turned away, arrogance dripping from every inch of him, the very picture of Gifted privilege, and for once, she understood it. Why would he feel anything other than arrogance when he held the power to destroy at his fingertips?
* * *
Armed with a bottle of tequila, Jason and Allyra wandered down to the private beach at the back of the house. Unobstructed by the trees, the moonlight flooded over the pristine stretch of white sand and danced on the gentle waves of the ocean, creating a mirage of glittering diamonds.
The fierce heat of summer had passed, and autumn announced its arrival with a new bite in the air, carried over the ocean surface. Allyra rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the tiny goose bumps on her skin.
Jason handed her the bottle. “Here—a few mouthfuls and you won’t feel the chill.”
Allyra took a tentative sip and nearly spat out the contents as it burned down her throat like rocket fuel. “That’s disgusting,” she choked out. A cellar full of expensive alcohol and this was what he chose?
“It gets better the more you drink.”
“Another life lesson?” she asked sarcastically.
“I do possess an overabundance of them. Stick with me, little bird, and I will show you the secrets of the world,” he singsonged at her.
She rolled her eyes at him and took a larger sip from the bottle. Now that she expected the gasoline-like taste, it went down a little easier, and a gentle warmth blossomed into life within her.
Jason took the bottle back from her and took a large gulp from it. He sank into the sand, lying on his back and staring up at the stars. Now that the breaking and entering portion of the evening had concluded, he seemed content to fall into the stillness of the night.
Allyra sat down beside him, but the silence pressed in on her, pushing the air from her lungs and making her skin crawl with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool temperature. Without the fury of adrenaline surging through her veins, she could no longer forget the horror of Chi’s broken body. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes as if it might physically dispel the awful image from her mind.
As if he could read her mind, Jason said quietly, “Don’t torture yourself. Death is a part of The Five Finals. Chi knew that, and he chose it anyway. You did everything you could’ve to save him.”
“Did I?” Allyra spat out the words. She was angry—at herself, at The Five Finals, at the world in general. It burned brighter than molten gold, raging through her mind, melting away all reason and logic.
“Did I?” she repeated, “Did anyone? There’s no reason for his death. They could’ve stopped it—they could’ve acted sooner. They simply chose not to.”
“Those aren’t the rules and you know it.”
“Screw the rules. What’s the point of all this?” she shouted, unreasonably focusing her anger on Jason. “The Five Finals is utterly pointless. It’s archaic and barbaric, and I can’t understand how you all just put up with it.”
Her voice cracked as the red-hot fury burned itself to cinders. “All it does is set people against each other and cut short lives that might have grown to be so much more.”
Allyra gulped, unable to continue as she remembered the contradiction that was Chi—his incredible intellect and thirst for knowledge, set against a childish naiveté. His kindness combined with a burning desire to succeed. Her grief for Chi coalesced into older pain, like little drops of oil combining into a larger, more monstrous one until she could no longer tell just whom she was grieving for.
She took a deep breath, her voice more controlled as she spoke again. “Maybe one day Jeong will look back on The Five Finals and realize he sacrificed Chi’s life for no more than petty dislike and a chance at winning this ridiculous, outdated competition. Maybe guilt will finally overtake him and then what?” Allyra held up the tequila bottle, took a large gulp from it, and then answered her own question. “Perhaps a steady slide into alcoholism? Whatever happens, there are no winners here.”
Jason didn’t seem to have an answer for her, and they sat on the beach, passing the bottle back and forth between them, listening to the gentle crash and withdrawal of the waves.
“I think you’re wrong,” Jason said suddenly.
Allyra turned to him with a question in her eyes. The tequila had done its job, and her mind felt wooly and pleasantly sluggish.
“It isn’t all pointless,” Jason clarified.
Allyra narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t have the energy or patience to argue.
Jason turned to her and there was a sudden, feverish urgency to him. “Chi’s death may seem pointless now, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. You can make it count for something. Win The Five Finals and you’ll be on a path to power, to a position where you could change the way things are done.”
Allyra laughed without humor. “You’re just saying that because you want me to help you win.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong though.”
; He got to his feet, and she caught a glimpse of a memory soaked with regret, but her mind was too alcohol sodden to hold onto it.
“Let’s go for a swim.”
Allyra shot him a look of disbelief. The Atlantic Ocean that formed the West Coast shoreline was freezing even in the heart of summer. The unspoiled beaches were better made for sun worshipping than swimming.
Jason had already discarded his shirt, displaying his broad shoulders and well-muscled torso, narrowing to his hips. His pale skin glowed in the moonlight, and he took on a ghost-like quality. Allyra stared for a moment too long; she couldn’t help but admire him—she blamed it on the ample amounts of alcohol coursing through her veins. He smirked knowingly at her before taking a few more steps toward the water and then pulled off his pants until he wore nothing but a pair of black underwear. Even with half a bottle of tequila in him, Jason was effortlessly graceful as he continued his trek toward the frigid water.
“Are you coming or are you too scared?” he taunted before plunging into the water.
Allyra hesitated, but the tequila was flowing generously through her veins—a skeleton key unlocking all her inhibitions. She pulled her shirt over her head, vaguely aware that she fell prey far too easily to peer pressure.
* * *
Consciousness was an explosion of light and pain. The world tilted and moved. Allyra quickly closed her eyes as her stomach heaved.
Never again, she promised herself, I’m never going to drink tequila again. In fact, she didn’t even want to look at a bottle of tequila again. Her head felt as if someone had driven an iron stake through it—perhaps she would extend her promise to include never actually drinking any sort of alcohol again. Never would she drink again, and never would she fall for Jason’s promises of showing her how to live. The consequences were simply not worth it.
After a few minutes spent mastering the effects of her hangover and making an increasingly long list of resolutions, Allyra opened her eyes again—much more gingerly. It turned out that the world was actually moving, because she appeared to be in a car. Her memory of getting back to the car was fuzzy at best, and it only served to cement her list of resolutions.
She groaned and glanced over at Jason, sitting in the driver’s seat. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, but otherwise, he seemed unfairly unaffected by the previous night’s excesses.
Noting that she was awake, Jason handed her a bottle of water without taking his eyes off the road. “Good morning,” he said.
“There is nothing good about this morning,” she replied, her voice exploding within the confines of her bruised mind. Allyra drained the water bottle and instantly wished she hadn’t as her stomach turned again.
“You wound me,” Jason said, amusement in his voice. “I’m not used to anyone waking up with instant regret after a night with me.”
Allyra didn’t know which was worse—her throbbing hangover or being lumped in the same category as one of Jason’s female conquests.
The second one, she decided. The second one was definitely worse.
She pulled herself straighter in the seat as memories of the previous night came flooding back. There had been the breaking and entering, the drinking, followed by some swimming. She grimaced as she remembered that the swimming had happened with embarrassingly few garments on. They had continued drinking afterward, lying next to each other on the sandy beach, drunkenly tracing constellations in the sky.
The memories were sufficiently embarrassing to bring an instant flush to her cheeks, but it was a relief to know that she could at least remember most of it and that she hadn’t spilled her guts—either literally or metaphorically.
Looking out the window, Allyra said a silent thank you to her Gifted healing as her headache retreated just a little. She reaffirmed her promise to never again take advantage of it for such shallow and frivolous purposes.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“The airport,” he said, glancing at her. “You were most adamant about it last night, or do you not remember?”
“I remember just fine, thank you,” Allyra replied with as much dignity as she could muster. She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t gotten drunk enough to lead Jason to the safe house where she would meet up with Jamie and Rob.
They pulled up at the domestic departures terminal. “Is this okay or do you want international?” Jason asked.
“This is fine,” she replied, working hard not to inadvertently give up any more information.
He watched her gather up her belongings, meager as they were. “This doesn’t change anything, you know. One drunken night does not make us friends. I still hate you,” he said softly.
Allyra looked up from zipping up her backpack. Jason’s eyes were hidden, but a tiny quirk pulled at one corner of his lips. That, combined with the lack of venom in his words told her that he wasn’t being completely truthful.
She stepped out the car. “I hate you too,” she replied.
Jason looked at her over his sunglasses, giving her a mischievous wink before putting the car in gear and driving away with a squeal of tires and exuberant acceleration.
Allyra wound her way through the crowd, heading toward the ticketing counter. She tried to gather the shattered slivers of her hungover mind to reach for her Gift, tracking Jason’s increasingly familiar thread as he drove away. She held on to him until he was well away from the airport. Reassured that he wasn’t following her, she turned abruptly from the ticketing counter, heading instead for the rental cars. It was time to carry out the carefully laid-out plan Rob had prepared for her to get to the safe house. Her only deviation would be a quick detour to the pharmacy for some high-strength painkillers.
Chapter 19 – Jamie
The sun had nearly reached its zenith, but the dirt track remained stubbornly empty. Jamie had taken up a position by the window that gave him a clear view down the road leading to the little beach house set in amongst the sand dunes. He had sat there on and off throughout the day, mostly ignoring Rob’s and Laureline’s attempts to draw him into any conversation. Bored, the two of them had taken to the beach for some sunbathing though Laureline’s version occurred under the ample shade of a large and obscenely colored umbrella.
Despite his vigil, the view had remained unchanging save the occasional seagull dotting the sky. Not that he’d really expected any different—the Rising had chosen the safe house for its isolated position. The little beach house was the last dwelling serviced by the bumpy dirt track that pretended to be an actual road. Their closest neighbor was at least ten kilometers away, and even then, the people who came to such a remote place weren’t the type to drop by for a cup of sugar and a spot of conversation. Despite the unspoiled white sand beaches and clear blue water, this was no holiday resort—it was too out of the way, too untamed—and people only came here to be alone or perhaps disappear altogether.
By some miracle of timing, his weekend break had coincided with the weeklong break in The Five Finals following the conclusion of the first two Finals. It would be the first time he’d see Allyra in over two months. The passing of time had dulled any hurt and anger he’d felt at her deception, and now, he found that he couldn’t wait to see Allyra once more.
Jamie had arrived at the safe house in Rob’s trusty Land Rover, its headlights picking out the deep, unpredictable ruts in the lane, late the previous night. The difficult road conditions meant that the trip back to Pete’s place in Cape Town would take the best part of four hours, so he’d have to leave by midday tomorrow to make it back in time. Even if Allyra arrived now, they would have less than twenty-four hours together.
Given the secretive nature of The Five Finals, they hadn’t been sure exactly when Allyra would arrive, so Jamie knew it was useless to worry, but he couldn’t help the almost instinctive knot of tension that had taken up permanent residence in his chest. It didn’t help that Laureline had arrived with the news that the Second Final had claimed a number of lives. She had
been certain that Allyra was not amongst those who’d lost their lives, but Jamie felt like he couldn’t quite breathe until he actually saw Allyra.
He would know. He tried to convince himself that the bond between them ran so deep that he would know if Allyra had died. Somehow, he fell short of certainty. So, he continued his solitary watch over the dusty track.
* * *
Jamie had to blink twice when he saw the cloud of dust that hinted toward movement in the distance. After his long vigil, it was difficult to instantly trust his eyes.
The dust cloud moved steadily toward the cottage, but the road’s uneven surface meant that its progress was slow, and it was only twenty minutes later that Jamie could actually confirm that its source was indeed a car. With a shout to Rob and Laureline, he rushed to greet Allyra.
He didn’t wait for the car to fully stop before opening the door and enveloping Allyra in a huge bear hug, half in and half out the car. It was only after he’d confirmed that she was whole, and real, and safe, that he took a step back and really looked at her.
Rob took his place in wrapping Allyra in a giant hug, and Jamie couldn’t help but note the contrast of her pale skin against Rob’s healthy tan. Allyra’s skin had always been pale, strangely immune to the effects of the fierce African sun. But it was more than that—there was something wrong. It was in the way her smile failed to reach her steel-gray eyes. It was in the tight line running down her neck. It was in a million tiny details that he could read as easily as words on a page—each one telling him that she was holding on to some yet unspoken pain. She was doing what she did so well—retreat into herself, somewhere so protected that few people had ever been allowed access.
Jamie couldn’t help feeling a sudden flare of frustration. The knowledge that he was no more than an onlooker, peering through the curtains at a play in which he’d once been an actor.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Rob said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Did you happen to fall into a vat of alcohol?”