by Hilary Duff
I heard the wicked smile in her voice. “And now I can do what needs to be done . . . what’s needed to be done for a long time now. Good-bye Amelia.”
I felt her lunge to me, and my terror turned real. Even rested, I was still so much weaker than normal. . . . Was I weak enough that she could destroy me?
“Wait!” I said. “What about Daddy and Grandfather?”
“Oh, right,” she said. “They send their good-byes.”
Mother shot herself like a bullet into my consciousness. The pain was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced.
“Whatever you see, shoot to kill,” I heard her speak into the guards’ ears.
Then she popped away, quickly. With my last thoughts before I disappeared I wondered: Did she leave because she trusted the guards to do their job . . . or because she was weak after everything she’d done?
I hoped it was the latter.
Maybe then Ben would have a chance.
twenty-six
* * *
BEN GRIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL when we saw the weather-beaten sign for the Arable Farms Inn.
“This is it,” he said. “This is where they are.”
The name was completely unfamiliar to me. We were in Vermont, but this was not one of the inns my research had turned up. From the looks of the sign, it had been abandoned for a long time. Had Amelia not reached out to Ben, I’d have led the CV on a hopeless wild-goose chase.
Eleven fifty. Did we even have time?
Behind me, Nico used his cell walkie to relay Ben’s information to Sloane. I heard her voice crackle back, “We take the lead from here. Military operation, no fucking around.”
The CV members were in a fleet of five cars, which spread around us like a police escort as we made the turn into the long driveway.
We were halfway up the drive when the car in front of us started swerving madly. Nico’s walkie crackled to life with a male voice: “High-powered rifle! Silencer! They got Damian! He’s dead!”
And Sloane’s voice in return: “Peel off! Take over the car if you can! Everyone else, keep moving, return fire, and shoot to kill! College boy, what the fuck?!”
The last part was for Ben. With the late Damian’s car swerving in front of him, he was having a difficult time keeping our car on the road. We were swerving wildly and nearly knocked into the cars on either side of us.
“You’re doing great, Ben,” Nico said, leaning forward so his calming voice was close to Ben’s ear. “Just hold that wheel tight.”
The dead man’s car peeled away. Sloane’s took its place in front of us.
We could see the inn now, a white mansion that in its heyday must have been the picture of New England tranquility.
Now gunshots rained down from its roof.
Thanks to the silencers and the sound of our own car, I didn’t hear them, but I saw the muzzle flashes. Sloane’s car and the others returned fire, using silencers as well. I watched a tall woman with long black hair lean out the front passenger window of the car to our left. She was inches from Ben. She couldn’t have been much older than me. In another world she’d be carrying books across a college quad and laughing with friends instead of aiming a rifle, her muscled arms flexing as she took aim to fight for her life.
Her face exploded, struck by a hail of bullets.
I screamed and Ben jumped. He looked at me, then turned to follow my stare.
“No,” Nico said softly but firmly in Ben’s ear. “Don’t look. Do. Not. Look.”
Ben didn’t look. He clenched his jaw, his lip twitching, and kept driving, his hands clutching the wheel.
He was lucky. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Two seconds ago the girl was alive; now her ruined body lolled out the window, bouncing with the movement of the car. I felt my gorge rise. I almost lost it entirely when her body slid out of the window and a boy just as young took her place, shooting up at the roof. I wouldn’t let myself watch him.
A minute later, the flashes from the roof stopped.
“We got ’em,” Sloane’s voice came through the walkie. “Two casualties our side. If the Saviors are inside, they know they have company.”
“They’re not,” Ben said, his eyes lighting up as he realized. “At least Sage isn’t. There’s a field in the back . . . then a clearing in the woods. That’s where he is. That’s it.”
“It’s eleven fifty-five,” Sloane said. “Let’s move it out. Now.”
Ben took a deep breath and floored it. With the CV cars flanking and following us, we tore past the end of the drive, onto the grass that ran alongside the mansion, across the grassy field in its back, and as far into the woods as we could go.
We stopped short at the outer edge of a tornado.
Projectiles spun in the air, making a wall ten feet high. It was impossible to see through: dirt mixed with branches mixed with rocks, all swirling madly. As I stared, I saw an entire bush whirl past, its roots intact. Then came a massive stump that must have weighed several hundred pounds.
“What the fuck?” Sloane gaped.
Pretty much my thoughts exactly. She just said them more eloquently.
“It’s Amelia’s family,” Ben said. “They can move things with their minds. The tornado’s protecting the ceremony to get the Elixir.”
Nico used the walkie to relay the information to Sloane. She took only a moment to digest it.
“Eleven fifty-six,” she said, her voice crackling over the walkie to the whole team. “This thing’s going down in four minutes unless we stop it. There’s some weird shit going on in there, and it’s going to be messy, but this is our chance. I want Sage, and I want the dagger. You stab him at midnight, great. If not, just get him. This is the best chance we’ve had. Let’s make the most of it.”
It was surreal to hear Sloane give a pep talk about killing Sage but still feel she was on my side . . . for now. I needed her to stop the Saviors. I needed Sage alive for four more minutes, I’d figure everything else out from there.
“Face masks,” Sloane ordered. “Now let’s go!”
The CV pulled on face masks—they were prepared for anything. They piled out of their cars, guns blazing. Their bullets ricocheted off the flying debris. One grazed Sloane’s leg.
“No guns!” Sloane screamed. “Not until we’re inside!”
As the CV fought to get past the tornado wall, Nico put his hands on Ben’s and my shoulders.
“You two stay back here. It’s too dangerous.”
He pulled on his mask, and stormed into the swirl of debris. Ben turned to me.
“Clea . . . ,” he said.
“Not a chance.”
I checked my watch: 11:57. Three more minutes. I raced after Nico, straight for the deadly storm.
I stood at the edge of the whirling madness, blinking the dirt out of my eyes. I heard thuds and screams as CV members who had jumped in ahead of me were pummeled by debris. I wished I had a face mask.
“Clea!”
I looked over. Ben had wrestled his arms out of his T-shirt, and pulled it up over his face. Smart idea. I did the same. The fabric of the tee I’d pulled under my hoodie was sheer enough that I could see, if only a little bit. With a final nod to Ben, I dove into the tornado.
Inside, I was practically blind. I was pelted from every direction, like a million bees were stinging me. Two feet in I tripped and fell, landing face-to-face on a dead body: the boy who had been shooting from the car next to us, impaled by a large branch.
No time to scream. I scrambled up and kept moving, dodging and ducking to avoid anything large. It was like running through an asteroid belt.
An eternity later, I emerged on the other side of the tornado wall. There was no calm in the eye of this storm. The CV who had made it through, bloodied and battered, had taken cover and pulled out their guns. They were shooting toward a clump of armed people shielding a large, flat rock. Tied to that rock was Sage. His mouth was gagged, his body wasted.
I needed to go to him . . . but how?
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I scanned the gunmen around Sage. There had been more, I realized. Several were rolling on the ground, screaming from bloody wounds. As I watched, more were hit. The CV was outnumbered, but they were better shots.
Two more Saviors went down, opening a path to Sage. I ran for it, and almost made it to him when a wounded Savior grabbed me by the ankle. He raised his gun to my head, but a rock pummeled the side of his face before he could shoot.
I looked up to see who threw it. It was Ben, but he still looked panicked. I turned. Next to Sage, the bloodred readout of a large digital clock read: 11:59:01.
Then I looked up and saw him: a single Savior. He ignored the gunfire and stood solidly, holding Magda’s dagger high above his head, ready to plunge it into Sage’s exposed chest.
I threw myself on top of Sage, blocking the path to his heart.
My face was inches from Sage’s, his eyes staring into mine. He looked . . . confused. As if he had an idea of who I was but wasn’t entirely sure.
“Clea,” I said, choking back a sob. “It’s me, Cle—”
A bolt of pain shot through me and I rolled off Sage, unable to control my muscles. I landed faceup in the dirt, next to a wild-eyed man. He was covered in blood but had reached up to blast me with his Taser. With a horrible smile, he pulled out a knife and lunged . . .
A bullet smacked into his chest. He landed on top of me, and though his knife fell uselessly to the side, his large body pinned me to the ground.
An electric buzz blared as the digital readout clicked to 12:00:00. The stroke of midnight. For exactly one minute Sage could be destroyed, and the Elixir delivered to the Saviors. The man with the dagger gave a mighty victory cry and hurled his arms toward his target.
“SAGE!” I screamed.
The dagger swung down, but a second before it hit its mark, Ben leaped out from the surrounding fray and tackled him.
“Ben!” I gasped.
The man was twice the size of Ben, but Ben was strong, and he wouldn’t give up. They wrestled like bears, the only two not wounded or caught up in a gunfight.
A minute . . . if Ben could just keep the man engaged for one minute . . .
A giant tree branch flew out of nowhere, knocking into the side of Ben’s head. Amelia’s family. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were here, hurling rocks and roots and fighting to keep the CV from spoiling their plans. I knew their strength was limited, but not limited enough.
Ben clung tight to the Savior, even as he went down. The two fell together, Ben’s full weight crunching onto the Savior’s arm.
The dagger came loose, rolling away from them . . . and toward me.
I could practically grab it, but my muscles were helpless from the Taser. I tried to reach out . . .
Nico lunged from the woods and grabbed it.
For a second his eyes met mine. I could see the agony there. He’d made me a promise, but now he had the chance to save the lives of himself and the others who were wrongly cursed.
“DO IT, NICO!” Sloane yelled from several feet away, where she was locked in battle with a Savior.
12:00:30.
He stood over Sage and held up the dagger. He tried to wield it like the Savior had, but his arms seemed weak. He lifted the dagger no higher than his own heart. Indecision plagued his face.
“DO IT NOW!” raged Sloane.
“NOOOO!”
It was Ben.
He had squirmed away from the Savior and dived for Nico, tackling him to the ground . . . and onto the dagger. It plunged into Nico’s stomach.
Ben rolled off him immediately, his eyes filled with horror. “Oh my God . . . Oh my God . . . Oh my God . . .”
He rolled Nico onto his back to look at the wound. It was awful.
Nico smiled.
“Thank you,” I heard him croak to Ben. “The choice . . . I couldn’t . . .”
He winced.
“GODDAMN IT!” roared Sloane.
With a frenzied cry she threw a knife at her assailant. It hit its mark, lodging in his shoulder and throwing off his aim. Now out of the line of fire, Sloane raced to Nico’s body, yanked the dagger out of it, and plunged the dagger into Sage’s heart.
12:00:59.
I screamed.
The ceremony was complete. The gunfire ceased. The rocks and trees stopped flying. It was so quiet I could hear the blood bubbling like a fountain from the hole in Sage’s chest, a hole far bigger than that dagger should have rightfully made. It flowed over Sage’s side, pooling into a silver bowl mounted next to the rock altar. Sloane’s eyes grew wide as she stared at the fluid.
“Elixir,” she breathed. She laughed, a ragged insane giggle. “Elixir! Eternal life! Look!”
She held out the bowl, filled not with blood, but with a viscous silvery fluid, dancing with shapes and colors. The Elixir of Life.
Sloane lifted the bowl to her lips.
Summoning all my strength, I threw the dead body off me, pushing it into Sloane’s legs. She lost her balance and didn’t get her drink. Before she could recover, I dove into her. She fell back hard, her head cracking against a rock. She still held the silver bowl. I needed it. I needed to dump it out. I’d lost Sage, but I would not let Petra and the others win. No one would profit from his death.
I had almost reached the bowl when several vines looped and curled around me, stopping me cold. A lilting voice trilled in my ear.
“Bad idea, Clea. You lost.”
Petra’s unseen hand took the silver bowl and floated it toward the remaining Saviors.
It was over.
twenty-seven
* * *
I thought I was gone forever, I did. I wanted to be gone. The pain was unreal. Once, more than a thousand years ago, I had the unfortunate experience of seeing someone drawn and quartered—literally pulled apart in four directions. This felt like what I imagined that would be, except instead of four directions I was being ripped to shreds in a million directions at once, my consciousness sharp and feeling every bit of the excruciating pain. Disappearing forever would have ended the horror. Fighting it risked staying in a state where I was aware, but in this kind of pain, for eternity.
But I knew I was needed. So I fought.
By the time I had any awareness, most of it was over. I took in the carnage quickly. Most of the Saviors and Cursed Vengeance members had been flung to the ground, dead or wounded. Sage was destroyed, the fountain of eternity bubbling from his pierced heart. Ben sat on the ground, clutching at the body of a blond-haired young man who was either dead or nearly so. I sensed Grandfather and Father, weak from their efforts. Mother was running on pure adrenaline, but I could feel her strength throbbing strongly through the air. Her energy was so strong, I was surprised she hadn’t realized I’d returned.
Then I saw Clea, and I realized Mother’s concentration was elsewhere. Clea was grasping for the silver bowl of Elixir, then was grabbed by thick vines controlled by Mother. As Clea struggled fruitlessly to escape, Mother moved the bowl toward the mortals in the area.
Mother let her voice echo into their minds.
“I hold the Elixir of Life. Drink it—your wounds will heal, and you will become immortal! Drink . . . and become one of us!”
She manifested. She looked like an angel, in the flowing white robes we wore in ancient Greece, her hair cascading to her shoulders in a halo of curls. Even after everything, she took my breath away. Among the remaining Saviors, she appeared nothing less than a goddess. Even the CV members, struggling for life against their painful wounds, forgot their dedication to destroying the Elixir in the face of possible immortality. They reached out to her, beseeching her.
I could feel my family’s hunger for it to happen, to finally happen. I felt a surge in Father’s and Grandfather’s strength. Even if one of the mortals tried to stop them now, it wouldn’t work. My family would overcome them. They had come this far, nothing would get in their way.
Except me.
I remembered the first time my fami
ly hurt me, when their horrible words and thoughts sliced into me and left me as battered and bruised as if I’d been beaten. I remembered realizing that they could destroy me if they wanted to . . . and that I could destroy them, too.
I felt their presence. My family. The people I’d trusted. The people I had loved most in the world.
I bid them a silent good-bye.
As Mother was about to lift the silver bowl to the lips of the first eager Savior, I concentrated every bit of energy I could summon. I imagined myself a sea of whirling weapons, chopping, lacerating, destroying.
Then I took everything I had, and threw it into their minds.
twenty-eight
* * *
I HEARD NOTHING BUT THE SOUND of my own screams.
It couldn’t be happening. I was trapped, unable to move . . . unable to do anything but watch as Petra held out the chalice to a Savior.
Then suddenly it was Petra who was screaming. The sound was so horrible it stopped me cold. It was the cry of a woman in the worst torture imaginable. She was flung backward as if she’d been shot. The bowl of Elixir flew out of her hands, the fluid spilling out and turning from the silvery Elixir back to blood as it hit the ground and dissolved back into the earth. Every one of the wounded gasped, and those who were able lunged or crawled after the bowl to try to catch whatever drops clung to its sides. Before the first Savior reached it, the bowl itself exploded into a million pieces.
No one but me even noticed Petra, whose throes of agony continued. She turned her face to me and opened her eyes . . . but they were blank inside, dark, vacant holes.
Then she disappeared, leaving the clearing in silence.
The vines released me.
“You!” one of the Saviors screamed as she pointed to me. “You destroyed everything!”
She reached for a gun.
“No!” Ben cried, leaping toward me, but one of the CV members grabbed a gun and trained it on him.