“Ah. So, you’re not worried about us tracking down your brothers? I’m sure you were hoping we’d randomly wander Poughkeepsie instead of us using our ginger friend to pinpoint their precise location once we’re closer.”
Kyra watched him closely, waiting for a reaction, or maybe trying to read his emotions. He gave her nothing and smiled while panicking internally. If the terror twins found Nate and the others, it would be a disaster. His brothers and their crew were armed only with psychic powers. A bunch of empaths with a side of invulnerable were useless in a regular fight, and Chase had no idea how to trigger his telekinesis. Even in the past, when he’d watched Theo die, when the crowd had swarmed on Jericho, and after Beck mind-controlled Nate into the subway tracks, he’d tried to use the ability to do something, but it hadn’t worked.
In a face-off, his brothers would be helpless against an armed band of Farm guards. Had Richard planned it this way? Had he wanted Chase to lead the mission, or was this a test to see whether he’d sit back and watch the terror twins kill Nate and Holden?
With Kyra expectant and Beck gazing at him with bleak eyes, Chase smiled stiffly.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait in suspense and see how it all plays out, now, won’t you?”
Kyra smiled the creepiest of smiles, and Chase lifted his chin.
They sat in silence as the driver guided the SUV away from the Farm and toward the main road. The ride away from the area was a boring one filled with trees, more trees, and infrequent vehicles on the road, but Chase made himself pay attention. His sense of direction wasn’t the best when it came to woods, but he had a working knowledge of the area in terms of a map.
It would take about an hour to drive from the Farm to Poughkeepsie, but there were a ton of woods in between. The area was also dotted with campgrounds, state parks, and even some undeveloped tracts of forest. It so wasn’t his scene, but he’d make it his scene if it meant getting out of this situation.
Twenty minutes into the silent ride, Chase was still bracing himself for a blow to the head or a spark of inspiration, but neither came. What did occur were the storm’s initial flurries, and Beck’s voice sliding into his mind.
What’s your plan, Chase?
Chase tilted his head against the seat, gaze fixed on the trees rushing past, and gave no indication he’d heard her.
Even if I had a plan, you think I’d tell you, psy-sucker?
Still an idiot, I see. He could almost hear her mental sigh of disgust. Your friends are in a townhome along the Hudson River Valley. Near the bridge.
Where near the bridge?
That’s all I know. I can’t pinpoint their exact location anymore.
Chase rolled his shoulders, making a big show of stretching and yawning as if bored, and flicked a glance at Kyra. She didn’t so much as twitch.
Why didn’t you tell Kyra and Will if you already know where they are?
I have no desire to help the people who spent the past six months tormenting me. Beck hunched in on herself again, red hair falling over her face. Given Kyra’s lack of reaction, it was likely normal for her to attempt to go fetal. They’re like Jasper. They get off on the power. The game. The control Richard lets them have.
Chase barely controlled a sneer in her direction. And of course you have no desire to get back in their good graces. Since you don’t care about power at all. Nah, you spent all that time absorbing other psychics so everything could be equal and fair.
There are no good graces to get back into. Even in his head, he could hear the heaviness of her defeat. They helped to turn me into this, and they’ll do the same to you—use you, harvest your DNA, and discard you.
Is that what they’re doing to you?
Beck sat up again, looking at him with those bleak eyes, that gaunt face.
This is the last time they’ll have use for me. After this trip, I’ll be kept in the silo with Jasper until they’re done. He’s always wanted to study someone who can absorb power, and he can’t study himself.
They were all so much worse than he’d ever dreamed. He wondered yet again if the rest of the board knew about what went on at the Farm. If they sanctioned it or cared.
If you want out, find a way to make it happen before we get to Poughkeepsie. It’d be best if I didn’t return to the Farm.
Was that supposed to be a plea for assisted suicide? Jesus Christ, this was grim. He couldn’t figure out how to save his own life, let alone work in ways to helpfully end someone else’s. Murderer or not, he had no doubts that the Community had helped to create the monster Beck had become. The way they poked and prodded and pitted one psy against the other—just like Richard and Jasper were behind the scenes doing the same to the terror twins—created an environment where people would do anything to feel needed. If you were expendable, who knew what would happen to you?
But he couldn’t worry about that right now.
Baby fucking steps toward getting out of this SUV, meeting up with the others, and then figuring out how to get everyone else off that damn farm.
Chase shut down his communication with Beck and resumed his analysis of their surroundings. During their mental back-and-forth, the driver had turned off the Taconic to drive along a smaller road that appeared to lead nowhere. Through the blurring snow and the trees, Chase could see nothing.
He glanced at Kyra and noticed she was watching him again.
This was it.
Chase scrabbled for a plan and reached out to Elijah.
They’re about to make their move.
He waited.
Elijah, can you hear me?
Dread curdled Chase stomach. Without missing a beat, he jumped from his own perspective and dove into Elijah’s. Beck, Kyra, and the interior of the silent vehicle drifted away, replaced by a scene of chaos.
Elijah backed up against one door, his clothes in disarray as he lifted his foot to kick Will. Will grabbed his foot and twisted it to the side, using it as leverage to yank Elijah closer to him.
“Get the fuck off me!”
The driver flicked a glance behind him, cringing.
Will bared his teeth in a snarl. “Keep fucking driving.”
Elijah tried to twist away from him, but his back was now pinned to the bench seat. He brought up his knee hard, and Will reared back his fist—
For a single instant, the world stopped. The pause was the space of a single heartbeat, but everything was suspended in time. Then, as Chase exhaled his rage, he blinked and was in his own SUV again.
Everything went wrong.
His brain was screaming, his eyes watering, and a force he’d never experienced this strongly exuded out of him with such power it felt like he was flying apart. He squinted, trying to focus on something besides the pressure in his head, and found himself meeting Beck’s eyes.
Do it, Chase. Burn it all down.
The SUV swerved wildly back and forth like a rollercoaster as the driver screamed something incoherent. Beck and Kyra were thrown together so hard their heads collided with an audible bang, teeth chattering and blood exploding from one of their faces. They fell to the seat like rag dolls.
The pressure didn’t stop. If anything, it intensified. As the driver battled the force of Chase’s power, he was thrown about in the driver’s seat. His head slammed forward, colliding with the top of the steering wheel.
The SUV jolted to a sudden stop which lasted for only a second before Will’s and Elijah’s vehicle slammed into them at full speed. The other vehicle screeched to a halt, but Kyra’s SUV went flying forward, skidding on the icy road, and began to flip over.
This was it. They were going to die. Or at least Chase was. And then Elijah would be alone with Will.
Panic filled Chase’s throat before being replaced by the excruciating force of his telekinesis. It blinded him, blocked out all sound, and gripped his vocal chords until he could do nothing but release a wild, inhuman scream. The windows in the SUV burst even as their descent slowed. Instead of crushing i
nto the ground as the vehicle flipped, it dropped with half the impact before skidding off the road into the trees.
Time returned to normal with the smell of gasoline thick in the air. It yanked Chase out of his daze, and he opened his eyes to the sight of blood and stillness. No one was moving but him.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Chase!”
Elijah’s panicked yell spurred him into action. He ignored Beck’s and Kyra’s slack faces, and began fumbling to get out. He managed to twist onto his hands and knees and crawl out of one of the broken windows. Glass dug into his palms and embedded in the layers of his knees along with dampness from the snow-covered ground, but he ignored it and scrambled out of the SUV just as it began to smoke.
Slipping and sliding with each step, he climbed up the curved edge leading to the road. The second SUV had a crushed front grill and deployed airbags, but was otherwise unscathed. The driver stared at him with a face full of horror. Behind him, the back door was open as Elijah tried to get out and Will attempted to drag him back inside.
“Elijah!” Chase shouted.
Will’s head snapped up, his face twisted with hatred that sent a chill down Chase’s spine. It was the kind of loathing that branded him with a promise for later violence. Even with his lack of empathy, it slammed into Chase like a sucker punch to the gut.
Will released Elijah, allowing him to fall backward onto the icy road, and dove back inside the SUV. He shouted something indecipherable, but his meaning was made clear when the driver accelerated right at Chase.
“Chase!” Elijah yelled again. “Get out of the—”
For the third time in what felt like as many minutes, time slowed, but this time Chase blanked out. The power radiating from his body brought him to his knees, then knocked him onto his back. He saw nothing but splotches dancing before his eyes as he screamed.
When he came to, his limbs were trembling and his fingers were numb. The weight of the past year—the murders, the disappearances, Theo, Jericho, all of it—was crushing him to the cold wet ground. His thoughts scattered like the wind-whipped snowflakes, but one question was whispered at the back of his mind, repeated, and then slowly grew louder.
Where’s Elijah?
Chase opened his eyes, gasping for breath, and found Elijah’s tear-streaked face only a couple of inches from his own. He looked so stricken that Chase momentarily only saw the grief.
Then he noticed the reflection of flames in those beautiful brown eyes.
Shoving himself up to his elbows, Chase finally registered the wash of heat against his back. He turned, heart pounding and eyes still slightly blurred, to see Will’s SUV had flipped over and landed on top of the one Beck and Kyra had been in.
“What happened?” Chase rasped. “How—”
Elijah tried to pull him to his feet, but Chase jerked away, still staring in disbelief.
“What the fuck happened?”
“You—you screamed, and then the SUV just flipped over.” Elijah’s fingers dug into his arm, hard enough to leave marks through the layers he’d worn. “They’re probably dead.”
It wasn’t possible.
There was no fucking way.
He had no idea how to control his telekinesis. No way to call on it when he needed it. Or at least that’s what he’d told himself for years. That it was harmless if he left it unchecked and unpracticed, because that was better than asking for Community guidance. But now . . .
“Chase, we have to go,” Elijah said in his ear. “You have to get up.”
“I . . .” Chase shook his head, unable to look away from the lick of flames and the wash of white snow that did nothing to diffuse them. “I didn’t . . .”
“Chase, we need to go.”
Chase dragged his gaze from the wreck up to Elijah’s damp face. He was shaken, terrified, but there was determination in the set of his jaw.
“We’re getting out of here, Chase. We can talk about what happened later. But you need to come. Now.”
“Okay . . .” Chase croaked, allowing Elijah to pull him to his feet. “Okay.”
Elijah clasped their hands together and squeezed tight before leading him away from the flames.
It was Elijah who led them through the storm with Chase’s limited mumbled directions toward a campground he thought was a couple of miles away. They got turned around twice, but after the initial exchange of information, Elijah didn’t ask again. He forged ahead through the trees as the snow went from steady flurries to a near blinding whiteout.
Chase distantly thought that if Nate or Holden were here, they’d find a way to the camp using their empath powers. Latch on to a memory from the summer camp by the now-frozen river, follow some strong impression left by the children who visited every year, and go in a direct path. But all Chase had was his memory, cognitive abilities that had grown quiet in his brain, and telekinesis that apparently sparked at random and killed people.
He stopped walking and stared down at the snow. It stretched out white and pure for miles around, untouched until he treaded through it with his stumbling, dragging footsteps. There had to be a metaphor there, something that would key into him being a fucking murderer, but he couldn’t think of it. His mind was blank of everything but flames and smoke, and that last moment when he’d looked at Beck.
“Burn it all down.”
How the fuck was it possible he felt so much guilt for snuffing out someone who’d killed his brother? And someone else who’d intended to kill him? But it hadn’t just been them. It’d been the drivers as well. They’d died just for being there.
“Chase!”
He looked up blearily to find Elijah standing right in front of him. His face was bright red, hair soaked as his hood was swept off over and over by the howling wind. It created tunnels of snow and blasting frigid air. Chase was half convinced they’d walk until they became delirious from hypothermia and died out here.
“Are you okay?”
Chase tried to say something reassuringly flippant, something Chase-like, but no words came to mind. He could only blink away the snow as the flakes collecting on his clothing seeped in to freeze him even deeper to the bone.
Elijah reached up to put one gloved hand on his face. “We’ll be there soon, Chase.”
“Okay.”
It came out in such a weak croak that Normal Chase would have hated the sign of distress. But Normal Chase had been left behind with the wreckage, and this version of himself was slowly letting the spiderweb cracks spread until he felt like crumbling.
They continued walking with Elijah gripping his hand. He clung to it like Elijah was his lifeline. It helped him get through the rest of the trek. Eventually, when he felt close to keeling over, they spotted the welcome sign for a lake summer camp that butted up against the Hudson River. It was majestic even in the snow, with the wooden cabins crusted with thick layers of fluffy whiteness and icicles hanging from the awnings of the welcome center.
In the middle of what had seemed like a vast desolate wilderness, it was a haven for him to curl up and process everything. And Elijah had brought him there while his own brain had shut down.
“Finally,” Elijah huffed. “Let’s go.”
Chase nodded and followed as Elijah picked his way around the welcome center and toward the cabins. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for, and made a relieved sound once they approached sets of smaller cabins set apart from the rows meant for campers.
“I bet these are for staff,” he said, stopping in front of one of them.
“Okay?”
Elijah shook his head. “Never mind. Can you break the lock or something? I’d pick it, but my hands are frozen, and I have nothing to use.”
The request drew Chase a little out of his fog. “Break it? How the hell would I do that?”
Elijah huddled under the awning of the door, blinking up at him. His face was bright red from the lashing wind and snow, eyelashes wet clumps around his expressive e
yes. “You know,” he said softly. “Use your telekinesis.”
“Elijah, you know I can’t fucking control—”
“I know you always said that, but . . .” Elijah shuddered, teeth chattering. “But you used it back on the road to protect us. So maybe you can use it now to keep us from freezing to death?”
The question struck something inside of Chase. The part of him that had been screaming that he was a killer and a freak just like everyone had always said. The part that was scared of a gift he couldn’t control but that was powerful enough to snuff out five lives in an explosion of gasoline and fire. The question made him wonder whether he could make the talent work for a good reason. A nonviolent reason.
Licking his cracked, burning lips, Chase faced the door and put his hand on the knob. If Six or Trent were here, he bet they’d have enough physical strength to break the bitch down. But he didn’t have that, especially not after months of being on the Farm. He only had his mind, and his fierce desire to protect Elijah.
Once again, that terrifying pressure built in his head. It felt like he, and the rest of the world, would fly apart beyond his control, except this time the pressure concentrated. It peaked with an audible cracking sound coming from the door, which proceeded to drop down off one hinge, then the other.
Chase stepped away, panting.
“Good enough,” Elijah breathed. He briefly looked up at Chase with absolute wonder before sliding forward to shift the door partially out of the way.
They stepped inside the cabin, and even with it dark and chilly, it was a sanctuary from the storm. Elijah immediately went to shove the door into the hinges again, struggling to sit it just right. It was only when he cast an exasperated look over his shoulder did Chase snap out of his daze and assist. He helped put the door to rights, then shoved over a chest of drawers to sit in front of it until he could find some tools. Assuming he hadn’t destroyed the hinges.
“What now?”
Elijah looked at him, surprised. “We build a fire if they have supplies, get these wet clothes off, and wait out the storm.”
Chase nodded woodenly. Again, Elijah seemed to be on the verge of saying something but turned away. He raided the cabin as Chase looked on, foraging for precut wood and instead finding a small portable heater. They plugged it in, spread out their clothes nearby, and huddled in the bed under layers of scratchy blankets Elijah had found in a cabinet.
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