by Lisa Amowitz
I picked my way across the stage. I found Zuber’s lantern and flicked it on. Glistening in the pale light were bloody footsteps. Recent bloody footsteps. I followed them to the wings of the stage, where they ended at a pile of tattered costumes stained with drops of blood. I shoved the clothes aside and peered closer. Beside a bloodstained box cutter were words carved into the stage floor.
FIND THE RESISTANCE. THEN YOU’LL FIND SAM.
Gouged roughly under the words, blood pooling in the crevices, was the circle and the wedge symbol.
“Andre! You’ve got to see this.” I whirled around to face him. No one was there. “Andre?”
And then I smelled it. Sharp and acrid, voracious and relentless, the shadow cloud dropped from the ceiling… enveloping me, warning me that I had to run.
Except someone had me by the neck, with the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of my skull. There was nothing warm, kind, or soothing about it.
32
“IM SORRY,” ANDRE SAID, HIS VOICE AS measured as ever. “But I’m just doing my job. Walk. One foot in front of the other. Do as I say or I’ll blast off the back of your head.”
“Why are you doing this? What did you do with the others?”
I tried to kick at him. To focus on the cloud that billowed around us.
“Come with me peacefully and you’ll find out.”
Since I had no idea how to turn the deadly cloud on him before he pumped a bullet through my skull, I did what Andre said.
I’d believed him. Trusted him. And now we were all screwed because of it.
Outside the ruined school, on the sandy strip of beach in the cold moonlight, a circle of figures surrounded a body lying on black sand. Blood-soaked sand.
Xavier.
I froze and stifled a scream. Andre pressed the gun harder into the base of my skull and shoved me along.
“The cerebellum is the true source of Talent, Beth. This is a valuable piece of knowledge that has eluded the Guild, which is why they have failed so miserably,” he said in his smooth tone. “I’ve been studying the way our minds work. A bullet in your brain will cut off your power before you can do any harm.” Andre’s voice turned sharp. “And don’t think I won’t. You’re a danger to all of us and so is your precious Xavier. Talent like yours needs to be controlled. Or eliminated.”
No warmth flowed into my veins. Only deadly calm and cold conviction.
A figure in a dark coat with platinum hair that glowed white like a second moon knelt beside Xavier on the sand.
It was Demetri Prishkin, his eyes closed in concentration. My gaze travelled the circle of people huddled around Xavier’s body. They were chanting, their voices joined together in an ominous thrum that made the pulse in my neck beat wildly.
Above them, death swam and swirled like a funnel cloud, the composite of my anger and fear, mixed with Xavier’s impending demise. I knew that if I didn’t keep that cloud in check, Andre would pump a bullet into my head.
My eyes fell on another familiar face. A portly older man glared at me, his eyes brimming with pure hate. It was the guy from the hospital room. The missing kid guy. Reverend Barclay Smith. Xavier’s father.
Then I spotted Zuber. His wrists were cuffed in thick steel manacles linked together by heavy chains. He’d been beaten, his face swollen and darkened by bruises. Another length of chain fastened to the manacles connected him to a hooded figure in a long dark coat. The figure threw back its hood and my legs nearly buckled.
His curls shone gold in the silver light. Vincent stared straight at me, then looked away.
“Et tu, Brute?” I whispered under my breath.
The fix was in. And it hurt worse than a bullet in the brain.
Demetri lifted his face skyward, his hands resting lightly on Xavier’s chest. I had no idea what he was doing to Xavier and I didn’t dare ask Andre.
Xavier’s back arched. His face turned crimson. He seemed to be screaming, but no sound came out of his mouth.
“In the end, my research paid off,” Andre said in my ear. “I’m the one who finally figured out how to break Mr. William Xavier Smith.”
I didn’t have the luxury of asking why it was so important to break Xavier. What he had that everyone seemed to want.
Above me the darkness thickened, obscuring the moon. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn’t contain this rage much longer.
“Andre, please,” I moaned. “I can’t hold on.”
Andre cocked the trigger. “Try harder.”
Apparently my life was not worth as much as Xavier’s.
I had maybe seconds to live.
Then all hell broke loose. Zuber plunged straight into the ground, yanking the chain and slamming Vincent flat onto the sand in a belly-flop.
Andre yanked the gun from the back of my head to shoot wildly at Zuber. I took my cue and kicked him in the groin with the back of my heel, knocking him off-balance. He dropped the gun. I scrambled over sand to the street as fast as my legs could carry me. Downtown Linford was only a mile away. If I could make it there, maybe I’d be safe.
Andre had staggered to his feet, apparently grabbed the gun, and now pounded after me. Bullets sang past my ears, death following me like a swarm of bees.
I ran as hard as I could along the coastal road, my lungs screaming for oxygen. Andre was gaining ground. Then something clutched at my ankles, and I was whisked through the layer of pitted asphalt and pulled clear through the cement to a cold dark space.
Zuber and I landed in a breathless tangle in the sewer tunnel that drained Linford’s rainwater to the sound.
“What the—”
“When I said no jail could hold me, I wasn’t exaggerating.” In the dimness, Zuber flashed me a jaunty half-smile. I just stared back at him, too stunned to respond. “Please explain to me what the hell is going on here.”
“Where should I start? As soon as you left, they came. I’m pretty sure Dawn wasn’t in on the plan. And I won’t tell you I told you so about Serrano. Suffice it to say I always thought he was a pompous kiss-ass.”
“What the hell was Demetri Prishkin doing to Xavier?” Zuber shook his head. “All this time, I thought I could trust that bastard. That he was my best friend. I never suspected Prishkin’s Talent for convincing people to do what he wanted was Compulsion. That’s a Level 10 Volatile. Monica’s been using him to force Xavier into submission.”
“So Demetri put a Compulsion on Xavier?”
“He tried. Thing is, the Compulsion never fully worked on Xavier. Never worked on me either.”
“Why?”
Zuber rolled up the leg of his jeans. A dense network of horizontal scabs striped his shin. “I cut myself. Pain keeps it in check. It’s why none of their brainwashing efforts worked much on Xavier. Because of his old injuries, he’s in constant pain anyway.”
I closed my eyes. Only in our twisted world would pain be our best defense. I showed Zuber the infected pinprick on my palm. “Could this have helped keep my mind clear?”
“Most likely,” Zuber said. He seemed to be breathing heavily, gulping in air in quick swallows.
“Do you think this is the Guild’s doing?”
Zuber shook his head. “They’d never use so many Volatiles.
They don’t trust them. I think these goons are working for Monica. I think she’s been planning something crazy all along.”
The image of Vincent and his expression churned my stomach. “So Vincent and Andre are working for Monica. And that makes them traitors to the Guild. But they’re all after us.”
“The Guild or Monica,” Zuber said, wheezing. He seemed unable to catch his breath. “Pick your poison.” Above us, darkness pooled and my scalp tightened. I wondered if I was sensing Xavier’s death.
“Zuber, when I was alone with Andre I found a message from Xavier. It said that if I found the Resistance, I’d find Sam. Does that mean anything to you?”
“The Resistance? Its existence has always been a rumor. If this is the secret Xavier’s been sitt
ing on, it’s huge.”
“The resistance to what?”
“To the Guild and the corrupt monsters who exploit Talent. Like Monica.”
“Where are they?”
“The old sixty-million dollar question. I have no clue.” Zuber laughed, but it ended in a gurgling cough. My gaze snapped to the dark stain blooming on his T-shirt where he clutched his side. “And I’m afraid I won’t be going with you.”
The air above Zuber darkened and descended over him like a shroud of smoke. Andre’s aim was better than I thought. He’d hit his mark.
Talented were dangerous.
But they were still no match for guns.
Zuber smiled, his eyes losing focus. “I’m sorry, Beth. I’d go with you. But it hurts when I move.”
I helped Zuber to lie down on the wet tiles and watched the shadow drop.
“I’d give anything to go with you,” he whispered. Then his eyes slipped closed.
The darkness rested softly on his chest. He shuddered, then sank through the floor tiles and deep into the earth as the cloud rose and drifted away.
33
I LEFT THE BLAST MAHONEY BUTTON ON THE SPOT where Zuber had died and disappeared into the earth.
I’d come to the end of the line. Two people I cared about and trusted had tricked and betrayed me. And now, because of them, my friend Zuber was dead, my friend Xavier was a captive, and I was a fugitive.
I wanted to turn that dark cloud on myself, and this time, I wouldn’t hesitate to take Vincent and his glass heart right along with me.
But I couldn’t rest until I knew what had happened to Sam. I thought back to the times I’d seen a shade roaming the woods, watching me. Was that his ghost trying to reach me?
I clung to the conviction that if Sam was dead, I’d know.
But I felt nothing.
I had to find the Resistance and learn the truth.
Then I’d return for Xavier. And use my lethal Talent to kill every last one of my enemies.
And I’d enjoy it.
Tears streamed down my face as I walked the network of tunnels under my hometown. Life went on for the people who slept above me, blissfully ignorant of the nightmare world right outside their windows. I slogged through the watery sewer tunnel, a nuclear explosion in a holding pattern. My anger could have obliterated the entire town.
I needed to find a place where it was safe to let it go. Even if I did manage to escape Linford, I had no idea where to find the Resistance. I had no money. I was hungry. But my mind was clear and my thoughts were finally my own.
I didn’t have much, but at least I had my thirst for revenge. I waded through the filthy water. Slivers of moonlight streamed through the drainage grates to light a path for me.
The sound of sloshing footsteps sounded behind me. Voices bounced off the tunnel tiles.
I splashed blindly ahead to where the tunnel split into a fork. More voices wafted toward me from one of the forks, so I raced down the other, running mindlessly.
“Beth!” hissed a voice from the street above. “I know you’re down there.”
The voice reverberated inside my bones.
It was Vincent, come to reel me in like the catch of the day.
I gritted my teeth and rushed on without comment.
His voice poured down from another grate. “I know where you are at all times, Beth. If I wanted to turn you in, I could have them here in minutes.”
My lungs were on fire, but I kept running. I hated the fact that despite everything he’d done to me, I wanted nothing more than to be cradled in his arms like when we’d once fallen asleep together.
Like it or not, we were bound. Not even my outrage over his betrayal could break that connection until it faded on its own.
Then he was standing in front of me, thigh-deep in the filthy water, wet curls plastered to his head.
“You can’t run forever, Beth. Monica’s people might not have the resources, but the Guild will never tolerate a Level
10 Volatile going rogue.”
I spat at him, turned, and ran off in the other direction. He took a gamble. He knew I wouldn’t kill him. Couldn’t kill him.
“Please. You have to trust me.” His voice shivered in my ears, a siren song to my battered emotions. Then my elbow was wrenched behind my back in a painful hold.
“Please hear me out,” Vincent pleaded. “Why would I take this kind of risk alone if I wanted to turn you in?”
“Because in your conceited head, you believe I won’t kill you.” I struggled crazily to break free. “Maybe you’re wrong. You and that bastard Andre sold us out. Zuber’s dead. Are you happy now?”
Vincent held tight. I wasn’t fooling him. He could read my feelings and intentions like a road map. He spoke, his voice thick with emotion. Gone was the measured, careful tone. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to prove myself loyal to the Guild. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I stopped struggling. The heat of his face pressed against my neck worked its way into my bloodstream, uncoiling my tight muscles. “Fucking Saint Vincent. What would you possibly need to prove?”
“I was—my father was a traitor to the Guild. A Tribunal gave me a chance to redeem myself, since I was so young when they arrested him.”
I paused, weighing his words, pushing back on the sway of his real grief and pain. I couldn’t let him persuade me. “How was he a traitor?”
“My parents raised us far away in a remote part of Northern France. My mom and sister were Regulars. Papa was arrested when I was thirteen for training me outside of the Guild’s auspices. They brought charges against him. I was sent overseas. I never saw my parents or my sister again.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You and Andre are world-class liars.”
“I can’t speak for Andre. I can only speak for myself.”
It all sounded very reasonable, but I wasn’t buying it. Vincent had already proven himself to be an accomplished actor. I pushed back hard and he stumbled, falling onto his ass into the putrid water.
I didn’t waste any time laughing at him. I just ran like hell.
But Vincent’s legs were much longer than mine. He overtook me easily and pinned my wrists roughly to the slime-coated tunnel wall. “You shouldn’t make me run like this, Beth. You know how easily my heart can just give out. And you need me.”
“I don’t need you!” I thrashed about, but it was pointless. The only way to get free was to kill him.
He smiled, painfully beautiful even drenched in slime water. “You’re a liability to the Guild, Beth. Monica was going to unload you and turn you over to that Holy Roller guy, Reverend Barclay Smith. He takes care of surplus Talent.”
I tried to wrench my hands free of his grip, but he only leaned in closer, his lips inches from mine. The breath heaved in and out of my lungs.
I could fight a lot of things.
Vincent at close range was not one of them.
“That asshole is Xavier’s father. What do you mean by he takes care of surplus Talent?”
“Just what it sounds like. He takes the unruly ones off Monica’s hands if things get too hot. He calls Talented the devil’s children. He’s a homicidal lunatic on a sacred mission to wipe us all off the planet. He considers it God’s work. Monica feeds him crumbs to keep him interested.”
I finally stopped flailing and sagged against the wall. “Don’t you think it’s a strange coincidence that his own son was supposed to have died in an explosion, only to turn up alive a few years later?”
Vincent’s aqua eyes were iridescent in a slice of moonlight. “That’s how it all started. His own son, William Xavier Smith, had a strangely hypnotic voice. Barclay thought he was possessed and tried to exorcise the evil from him, as he called it. Xavier was horribly injured, but survived because a Guild member rescued him and spirited him away to the compound.”
Vincent’s lips were now millimeters from mine.
“I still don’t know if I believe you,” I murmu
red. His face was close enough to mine for me to taste his breath. “Or trust you.”
“Promise you won’t run and I’ll show you something.”
“Promise.” I was disgusted with myself. I was so losing this battle.
Vincent lowered his hands. He unbuttoned his coat and lifted his flannel shirt, revealing the lean muscle of his abdomen. Carved into the tender flesh just above the waistline of his jeans was a raised white scar—the circle and a wedge, the same symbol Xavier had shown to me numerous times.
“What the hell?”
“Just before my parents were taken away, I howled while my father held me down and burned this into my skin with the heated end of a spoon. He placed an undetectable glamour on it, which was his Talent, and told me that if I ever needed him, he’d manage to find me.”
We found a dry ledge and climbed up, huddling together for warmth.
“They tried to reprogram me, as they call it. There are Talented who can wipe your mind of your true memories and intentions and replace them with false ones. This is what Gideon does so masterfully. But it never worked on me or Xavier because of our damaged bodies. My heart murmur and his painful scars rendered us immune, which got us instantly classified as Volatiles. I tried to play their game. Xavier never did.”
“What exactly is Xavier’s Talent? Why is there such a big fuss over him?”
“Xavier’s voice is like steroids for Talented. It amplifies the abilities of others, and re-energizes the ill and weak. To be honest, his voice is what kept me alive.”
“I thought you hated him.”
“I was protecting him from himself. Xavier never had a lick of sense. Instead of running from trouble, he ran toward it.”
“Holy crap,” I said.
“It is also what’s kept Gideon alive,” Vincent continued.
“He should have died from his cancer years ago. So now do you understand why Monica wants him so much? Xavier’s voice grants godlike powers to those who can harness it.”
“But they couldn’t make him cave to their wishes.” “Actually, he was fine for a while. As fine as someone could be after surviving a murder attempt by his own father. That is, he was,” Vincent said, “until Sam Bernstein came to the compound.”