Heat rushes to my face, and my pulse quickens. “Yes,” I tell him. “I was in the backseat.”
“And you leaned forward and held my hand,” he says, completing my thought.
“How is this possible?” I look to him for answers. “How do you know what I’m dreaming?”
“I don’t think you’re dreaming,” Nathaniel answers. “I think you’re projecting.”
“Projecting?” I ask, worried.
“Sending your thoughts to us, in a way,” Nathaniel says. “That’s how I felt you in the car.”
“And you?” I ask Gage. “Was I really with you in the kitchen? Did I really say those things to you?” I clamp my hand over my mouth, horribly ashamed of myself. And then I can’t sit still any longer. I’m out of the chair and pacing back and forth. My legs are tired and achy, but adrenaline keeps me going. I can’t contain the questions that tumble from my mouth. “Why is this happening? How is this happening? Did Isadora do this?”
Nathaniel stops me. With his hands on my shoulders, he looks into my eyes. “Mercy, don’t crack up on me now, okay?”
I break free of his grasp and slump into the chair. My hair falls every which way, so I grab it and shove it back. “I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to take, considering.”
“Considering what?” Gage asks.
I tell them about my meeting with Isadora, how she came to the jail and told me that she wants me to kill The Assembled. By the time I finish, they’re both stunned into silence.
“I don’t understand,” Gage finally says. “She is The Assembled. Why would she want them dead?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Nathaniel leans his elbows onto his knees. “Isadora wants to be the supreme ruler.”
“She can’t do that!” Gage shouts.
My mother returns, carrying a tray with a silver tea setting. Her face freezes. She can sense the tension. “What’s going on now?”
“We have a problem,” Gage tells her.
“Gage, don’t,” Nathaniel warns.
Gage is not swayed. “Isadora wants Mercy to kill The Assembled.”
The tray my mother is carrying spills and clatters to the ground. She winces as scalding water splashes against her skin. Hurrying, I go to her and guide her to the kitchen sink where I run the cold water. She holds her hand under the stream and grimaces.
“There’s a first-aid kit in the hall closet,” I yell to both Nathaniel and Gage. “Get it.” To my mom, I say, “Are you all right? Do we need to go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine, honey. It’s not that bad,” she answers.
But I don’t believe her. I can see it in her eyes. There’s something she isn’t telling me. “What is it? Is it your hand?”
She looks away. Nathaniel and Gage enter the kitchen. Gage escorts my mother to the table and begins dressing her wound.
I clean up the mess. Nathaniel helps. We pick up the pieces and walk back and forth to the kitchen for paper towels and eventually the mop and bucket to wipe the hardwood floor clean.
We finish and rejoin Gage and my mother in the kitchen. They’re huddled together whispering. They break apart at the sight of us.
I wash my hands in the sink, and when I turn around, all three of them are staring at me. I’m sure it’s out of concern, but I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being studied and worried over and treated like I’m a bomb about to explode. Anxious and irritated, I need to move. “I’m going for a walk.”
“I’m not sure you should be out there,” my mother says to me.
“Isadora won’t try anything just yet.” I pause by the front door. “And there’s no air in here. If you need me, I’ll be at Lyla’s.”
“Let me walk you,” Nathaniel offers.
Oh, how I would love to say no, but I know he’ll follow me anyway. “Fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Don’t stay out too long,” my mother tells me.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I know I’m being snotty, but I’m tired and fed up, which I undoubtedly convey when the screen door slams behind me.
Nathaniel and I walk, me with my hands jammed into my pockets, him stealing glances of me every few steps. Nothing about my neighborhood has changed, and yet everything is different. I don’t see tiny houses owned by neighbors anymore. I see unsuspecting victims who don’t know they live dangerously close to Breachers.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Nathaniel’s arm brushes against mine.
I ignore him.
“Are you angry with me?” he asks.
Still I keep quiet.
“Mercy, stop.” He pivots until he’s facing me, forcing me to halt. “Don’t be shut me out.”
I fold my arms across my chest and cock my hip to one side. Apparently, all the time I spent being Lyla has rubbed off on me because this stance is all her.
Nathaniel sticks out his lower lip like a child, and despite myself, I laugh.
“That’s better,” he says.
Stalling, I look around at my neighborhood, at the house across the street where the Jensens live. Lyla and I loved trick-or-treating at their house because they gave out full-size candy bars. The memory saddens me. It serves as a reminder that I’m not the same girl anymore. I’m not Mercy Clare, local girl who lost her mother. I’m Mercy Clare, Breacher and God knows what else.
Nathaniel brushes a stray hair from my face. “I can see the wheels turning in there. Tell me. Let me help.”
Relenting, I say, “You’re all afraid of me.”
His brow wrinkles as his eyebrows nearly knit together. “That’s what this is about?”
“Did you see the look on my mother’s face?”
“She’s worried, Mercy. She’s not afraid of you.”
I kick the sidewalk with the toe of my shoe. “She should be.”
“And why is that?”
“Nathaniel, the truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing.” I can tell he’s about to put up an argument, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
He throws his palms up. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Thanks.” I backhand him on the arm.
He rubs the spot I swatted. “All I was going to say is that we’ll figure this out together.” He slips his hand around mine, lacing our fingers together. “You’re not alone. You have me.” Nathaniel pulls me to him. He holds my head to his shoulder, kisses my hair. Nathaniel massages the back of my neck, and it feels good. I sigh with relief.
And then I feel that pull, the one I always feel when I’m around him. Being in close proximity with Nathaniel awakens my body in ways that make me blush. I imagine his full, soft lips against mine as he kisses me gently at first, and then increases his urgency. I picture him kissing my throat and all along my neck as his fingers weave themselves into my hair. And then it’s my hands that are on him—on his chest, his back, dipping below his belt line to feel the curve of his torso.
I have to stop. I step back from Nathaniel and clear my thoughts.
Nathaniel’s expression gives me pause. He looks ravenous and shocked all at the same time. He’s breathing hard. He wipes his mouth with his hand.
And that’s when I know.
“Oh my God.” I can barely look at him. Kill me. Kill me now. “You saw that, didn’t you? What I was thinking, just now, you saw it?”
“Mercy, I—”
I cut him off. “Don’t.” Humiliated, I turn away.
“Is that how you feel about me?” he asks, his voice cautious and hopeful. “Mercy,” he says as he faces me once again, “is that how you feel about me?”
He’s waiting for me to answer. His eyes are full of love, full of wanting. I haven’t seen that look on his face since Isadora yanked out my rib. It was then that I knew that Nathaniel loved me, and now, with that look, he’s telling me again.
But I’m too afraid return his love.
“No,” I say firmly.
His forehead creases as he frowns. “No?”
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry.”
“You’re lying.”
Did I show him that too? No, I can see that I didn’t. The unsure look on his face tells me as much. He’s accusing me out of desperation.
“I have to go,” I say.
And then I run like hell.
I don’t stop until I’m bursting into Lyla’s house. The door bangs into the wall when I throw it open.
“Mercy!” Kate, Lyla’s older sister, admonishes me. “Are you trying to break the door down?”
Kate is on the couch watching reality TV. She’s wearing her standard uniform—yoga pants, rock band T-shirt. Her dark hair hangs limply, looking slightly greasy and in need of a good washing.
Breathless from running, I try to compose myself. “Sorry,” I say as I gently close the door.
“Lyla’s in her room with Jay. I’d knock first if I were you.”
“Gotcha.”
Since I vacated Lyla’s body, their house has returned to its normal, disheveled state. Magazines cover the coffee table; shoes are piled by the front door. As I pass the kitchen, I see dishes that need to be done and garbage that needs to be taken out. There’s a pot on the stove that’s caked with congealed macaroni and cheese. I never thought any good could come from my being in Lyla’s body, but the state of their house tells me otherwise.
I knock on Lyla’s door.
“Very funny, Kate. We’re not doing anything,” Lyla calls from the other side.
“Ly, it’s me,” I yell through the door.
The door opens. Lyla greets me dressed in leggings and a button-down shirt, which she’s cinched with a wide black belt to extenuate her gorgeous curves. Her long hair is twisted into a knot on top of her head. She’s wearing her signature cat-eye makeup with red lips. My ensemble, jeans and a plain T-shirt, pales in comparison to hers.
“Have Mercy!” She squeals as she hugs me. “You’re back!”
“You knew I was gone?”
“Hello! I’m your best friend in the whole world. You think you can disappear out of my life for days, and I’m not going to notice? No way.”
She stands aside so I can enter her room. Jay, her boyfriend, and one of my best friends, is sprawled across her bed.
Lyla sits down next to him, and Jay circles his hands around her waist. Immediately, I become a third wheel.
“Seriously, did I interrupt anything? Because I can go.”
“Don’t be stupid. Kate’s just in a mood. We were only listening to music.”
“I was listening to music,” Jay corrects her. “Lyla was trying on everything in her closet and boring me to death with a game of keep this, toss that.”
“That explains the mess,” I say as I scan at Lyla’s room.
It’s nothing like I left it. Feeling guilty for being in Lyla’s body and not knowing how to fix it, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned Lyla’s room. I washed her sheets, hung all of her clothes, organized her shoes, belts, and other accessories. By the time I finished, there were actual surfaces to her furniture. Such is no longer the case.
I shove stuff aside so I have room to sit on the floor in front of the dresser. I lean against it and wait for Lyla’s barrage of questions I know are coming.
“So, jail? You weren’t like, somebody’s bitch, were you?” Lyla starts.
“Very sensitive of you, and no, I wasn’t,” I inform her. “But jail was a total nightmare. Isadora—”
“That’s your mom’s sister, right?” Jay asks.
“Right. She injected me with this binding agent stuff, and I couldn’t jump to get out of there.”
Lyla’s face registers shock. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, she sucks. Oh, and so does my sister, by the way.”
Jay’s curly mop of hair is so long it nearly covers his eyes. “Sister?”
“Sister. Her name is Justice, and she looks frighteningly like me, so look out. She already managed to fool Gage.”
“What’d she do?” Lyla asks.
“Let’s just say it was PG-13, and I’d rather not get into it.”
“Got it.”
“Anyway,” I continue, “Nathaniel and Gage got me out, obviously, but now I have a bigger problem.”
Jay eyes me skeptically. “Bigger than your evil twin and aunt manipulating your paranormal life and trying to kill everyone you know?”
“Yeah, it’s girl stuff.”
Jay throws up his hands. “I’m out.”
He shuffles off the bed. I reach out and grab his leg. “Actually, can you stay? I’d like to hear your thoughts. Plus, I have to tell you something else about me.”
“Okay, I’ll stay.” Jay retraces his steps and takes his place behind Lyla.
“So, what’s this thing you’re going to tell us about you? Are you really Spider- Man, or can you fly like Superman?” Lyla laughs.
“I wish.” I laugh with her. This is exactly why I need Lyla right now. It’s impossible for her to take anything too seriously. “Apparently, I can send my thoughts to people’s minds.”
Both Jay and Lyla squint like they can’t see me clearly.
“And what exactly does that mean?” Jay asks.
“Well, I thought I was dreaming, but I wasn’t. I was thinking about someone, and imagining myself with them, and, it turns out, I really was, but I wasn’t because I was only doing it with my mind.”
“You know,” Lyla crosses her legs like a kindergartener, “there’s not a single part of that, that doesn’t need explaining.”
I sigh and say, “When I was in jail, I thought I was having this dream about Nathaniel and Gage coming to save me. I was in the backseat of their car. They couldn’t see me or hear me, but I reached out and touched Nathaniel’s hand.” I pause for a second to see if they are following along. They seem to be, so I continue, saying, “Nathaniel retold that whole scene to me. He thought he was imagining it. And then there was this thing with Gage. I appeared to him in my kitchen, and apparently I told him I could make him a Breacher.”
Lyla leans back into Jay. “Whoa.”
“I know this sounds insane.” I can barely look at them. “But it gets worse.”
“Worse?” Jay asks.
I nod my head in shame. “So much worse. Just now, I was walking over here with Nathaniel. I can’t explain it, but something happens to me when I’m around him. And I pictured us, you know, kissing or whatever, and he saw the whole thing.”
“What do you mean he saw it?” Lyla asks.
“I was thinking it, but it’s like I was thinking out loud, projecting it, almost like a movie.”
“That’s so cool!” Lyla squeals.
“It’s not cool. Those thoughts were private, super private, and now Nathaniel knows them.”
“What did he say after he saw it, or whatever?” Jay asks.
“He asked me if I was showing how I really felt about him.”
“And what did you say?” Lyla asks.
“I told him no. And then I ran.” As soon as I hear myself retell the last part, and I see the looks on their faces, I know I’ve done the wrong thing. “Oh God. I’m an idiot.” I bury my head in my knees.
Lyla climbs off the bed and sits by me. She puts her arms around my shoulders. “You’re not an idiot. And I’m sure we can do some damage control. Just tell him you were freaked out, say you’re sorry, and then everything will be fine.”
“It’s not that simple, Ly.”
“Why not? Nathaniel is hot. And he’s so obviously into you.”
“But she has to consider Gage,” Jay points out. “She can’t just go off with Nathaniel and leave Gage in the dust.”
“Exactly!” I say, echoing Jay’s sentiment. “If I choose Nathaniel I’ll lose Gage. I won’t do that.”
“Mercy,” Lyla’s tone conveys a tinge of disbelief. “What do you mean you won’t? You have to choose between them eventually.”
“Why? Why do I have to choose? I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“You’re probably already hurti
ng them,” Jay says. He sits at the edge of the bed, his long legs slumped over the side. “I saw you with them, Mercy. I know how they feel about you. Not telling them anything in return must be killing them.”
I groan and lean into Lyla’s comforting embrace. “This is awful. I need both of them to fight Isadora. I can’t have them hating each other.”
“Haven’t they hated each other for most of their lives?” Jay asks.
“Yes,” I answer. “But they’re working together now. They’re getting along. I don’t want to ruin that.”
“I don’t think you have much of choice,” Lyla says. “I mean, you already kind of told Nathaniel by showing him whatever you showed him, right?” She leans in and whispers, “You can give me all of those yummy details later.”
“Ly! That’s beside the point.”
“No, that’s the whole point,” she says, scooting away so she can face me. “You’ve never really liked anyone before, and now you have these two gorgeous guys fighting over you.”
“I also have my psychotic aunt and twin sister to think about. This isn’t the time for boys and hormones.”
Lyla shrugs. “Hey, all I’m saying is that if you’re going to start the fight of your life, you might as well do it with love on your side.”
Chapter Ten
Gage
Moments after Nathaniel and Mercy exit, I say good-bye to Ariana and leave. The night sky is dotted with stars, and a great white moon guides my way. I hear sounds I’ve never noticed before—doors closing, dogs barking, cars driving, leaves rustling through the trees. It’s as if the world is a whole new place. This is my human world, and sooner or later I’m going to have to find my place in it.
When Isadora sliced the mark from my arm, I didn’t know what it would mean to be human, and I remember thinking briefly that I might like a real life. It might be okay to fall in love, have a family, get a job—all the things that humans do. And when I pictured that future, I saw Mercy by my side. But watching her with Nathaniel, I know any hope I had of us being together is drifting farther and farther away.
The idea that Mercy is projecting her thoughts worries me. Her ability to breach is not limited taking someone’s body. She is able to control someone’s mind. She may not understand what’s happening to her right now, but she will eventually, and the temptation to use her gift for ill gain might be too great for her to handle. It might overwhelm her, and what am I supposed to do then?
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