Nathaniel
They fled. And they were quickly caught. Nathaniel was returned to his cell where he remained in isolation for weeks. The waiting was driving him insane.
Eventually, Lucas’s men came for him. They dragged Nathaniel along the corridor to a room he’d never seen before. It looked very much like a hospital room, with lots of medical equipment and people dressed in white scrubs. Nathaniel bucked and fought as the guards threw him onto a table situated at the center of the room. They strapped him down, immobilizing him entirely.
“What’s happening?” Nathaniel wailed.
Workers hustled about. Nathaniel’s shirt was cut free from his body, exposing his chest. He thrashed, but it was no use. He was trapped.
Lucas appeared at his side. He placed his hand on Nathaniel’s forehead. “It’s distressing to see you like this, my son. But you’ve brought this on yourself.”
“Let me go!” Nathaniel yelled, but Lucas walked away.
Someone else approached Nathaniel’s side. His face was partially covered by a mask. In his hand, he held a scalpel.
“No!” Nathaniel squirmed. “No!”
The blade pierced his side, and Nathaniel let out a roar that nearly shook the heavens. The pain was excruciating. Nathaniel blinked in and out of consciousness as his insides were violated. He opened his eyes again just in time to see a rib, his rib, being wrapped in muslin and hurried from the room. Unable to go on, Nathaniel shut his eyes and prayed for death.
“Nathaniel!” His body shook. “Nathaniel, wake up.”
He peeled open one eye. “Isadora?”
“Can you move?”
Nathaniel tried. He rolled onto his left side, used his hand for support, faltered, and crashed down on the table.
Isadora slid her arm under Nathaniel’s body. She cradled him and lifted him into a sitting position.
“Leave me,” Nathaniel groaned.
“Listen to me,” Isadora spoke quickly, frantically. “There’s no time. You have to hurry.”
Nathaniel sluggishly shook his head.
“Please,” Isadora begged. “I’ve opened the path. But you have to go now.”
“Why?” Nathaniel asked. He couldn’t understand, after everything she’d done, why she was helping him escape.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said hastily. “But I have to warn you. You won’t survive in this form, Nathaniel. You have to find a body.”
“I am tired of human flesh.”
“You’ve already died,” Isadora said gravely. “And you didn’t go into the light. In order to survive you must be in human form.”
Nathaniel’s shoulders slumped. He was too tired to fight, too tired to run.
A noise sounded from outside the room.
“They’re coming.” Isadora’s voice was full of panic. “Go! Now!”
With great effort, Nathaniel obeyed. He slipped from the room with Isadora right behind him. Nathaniel didn’t know how they made it all the way to the bridge undetected. He saw that Isadora was telling the truth. The path was indeed open. He could almost taste his freedom.
Nathaniel turned around to thank Isadora. But she was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Mercy
My head is thick with fog. Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I wait for a wave of nausea to pass. I’m so used to being pulled from my body, but it appears this time my skin came with me. I’m whole. And that makes this so much worse than all the other times. Because whatever or whoever summoned me didn’t need to pull me from my body to do so.
I’m in a vast room with concrete floors and aluminum walls. There would most certainly be an echo if I scream, but I decide not to test it out. Instead, I utter a simple, “Hello,” and hope that someone hears me.
“Mercy.” A voice booms from behind me. “So good of you to come.”
I peel myself off the floor and wait for the muscles in my legs to adjust and hold me in place. “Oh yeah. Sure. You come. I call,” I joke, but I have a feeling this guy doesn’t understand comedy.
He’s wearing what looks like a very expensive steel-gray suit; the fabric has a subtle shimmer. His shirt is white, his tie dark purple, and his shoes are freshly shined. He’s at least six feet tall, if not taller, with shockingly white hair. Judging by the hair, I expect him to be old, but there’s barely a wrinkle on his distinguished face. His eyes are gray, like his suit, and his lips are thin. They disappear when he smiles at me. The smile, I guess, is to put me at ease, but it has the opposite effect.
My nerves are tingling as he approaches with his arms out stretched. I think for a second that’s he’s going to hug me, but then he claps his hands together. “I do apologize for the suddenness of my summons. Come, sit.” He gestures to a chair. “Do you drink tea?”
Befuddled, I ask, “Tea?”
“Yes, dear, tea. Little bags, dip them in water?”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“Excellent.” He squeezes my hand. “There’s such civility to two people sitting down to tea, don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
I hadn’t noticed before that a gorgeous table is set in the corner. Though it’s small—a table for two—it has all the elegance of a grand dining table: white linen tablecloth, silver tea service, and the most beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers, which look professionally arranged, bloom from a silver vase.
With flourish he slides out the chair for me. No one has ever pulled out a chair for me, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder at him. I’m waiting for him to stab me, gag me, or do something heinous, but he simply winks again and assists me in scooting my chair to the table.
Once I’m situated, he sits across from me. Unbuttoning his jacket reveals an old-fashioned pocket watch dangling on a chain. He flips it open as if checking the time and clasps it shut again. He snaps his fingers, and service begins. Waiters, dressed in the most formal of tuxedos, complete with starched shirts and tails, appear as if from nowhere and pour the tea. They offer me sugar, cream, lemon, all of which I decline. Next comes the sandwiches—cucumber and cream cheese with the crusts cut off. Using the silver tongs provided, I put two sandwiches on my plate. My host takes two as well.
He seems to be waiting for me to drink my tea. Either he has impeccable manners, ladies first and all, or my drink is laced with something. Nervously, I raise the delicate china teacup to my lips, but I can’t make myself drink.
He laughs, his head falls back, and he claps his hands again.
What is with him and the clapping? Is he five?
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” he says. Taking his napkin, he delicately wipes the corners of his mouth. When he’s finished he puts his elbows on the table. He laces his fingers together into a prayer position. “Mercy, mercy me,” he says, and then he laughs some more.
Impatience gets the better of me. The teacup rattles when I put it back down on the saucer. My head is starting to pound. “I think I’ve played this game long enough. Tell me who you are and what you want.”
“You’re just like her.”
“Like who?”
“Your mother.”
“You know my mother?”
He smiles, but it’s not a creepy, all-knowing smile. It’s something different, something unexpected. Kindness, maybe? “I know everything about your mother. After all, I raised her.”
“You’re my grandfather?”
“Oh, heavens no!” he scoffs. He drinks from his teacup like he’s taking a shot of tequila. When he finishes, he replaces the cup, and the waiter immediately refills it for him. “Grandfather? Do I look like a grandfather?” He holds up his knife and examines his reflection.
“You said you raised her. I was only assuming.”
“Of course you were, child.” He wipes his mouth again with his napkin. “I’m her brother.”
“I didn’t know she had a brother.”
“There’s been no need to make my presence known until now. Don’t be angry with me, Mercy. I�
��m here to help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“I know all about your bargain with Isadora.”
I sit ramrod straight. “What bargain?”
He squints. “I know that you agreed to do whatever she asked, and in return, she’s going to leave your precious family alone.”
“And you want to add yourself to the list or something?”
“You’re so sweet to think of me.” He sips his tea. “But I’m afraid it is you who will need protection from me.”
Trying to remain calm, struggling to keep all my oh shit comments to myself, I lean forward. It’s a tactical and incredibly stupid way to demonstrate I’m not afraid of him. Probably would’ve convinced him if my hands weren’t rattling. My voice quivers when I ask, “Why do I need protection from you?”
He smiles, but the sweetness is gone. This smile is menacing. “You’ve been asked to kill The Assembled.” He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. “I am The Assembled.”
Recognition snaps into place. I recognize him from the video Zee showed me of Nathaniel’s trial. “You’re Lucas Church.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“But I thought The Assembled is a group of people, like the Supreme Court or something.”
“Pay attention as this will be the most important history lesson you’ve ever been given. I am them. They are me. I created them.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
He clucks his tongue. “And here I thought you were the smart one.”
Frustrated with his games, I say with venom in my voice, “What is all this? What do you want from me?”
“You are trying to kill me, are you not?”
“I’m not trying to kill you.” I don’t realize until I’ve said it that it’s true. Here he is, right in front of me, giving me the perfect opportunity to fulfill Isadora’s request, and yet, I have no desire to end his life.
“No?” He’s trying to sound surprised, but I know mockery when I hear it.
So I say with conviction, “No. I’m not.”
“Interesting.” His eyes dance as he speaks. “And why is that? Don’t you worry about your friends? Your family? Your tasty triangle?”
“My what?”
“Gage and Nathaniel, of course.”
“There isn’t a triangle, not that it’s any of your business. And yes, I am worried about all of them. There’s no guarantee that Isadora will keep her end of the bargain.”
“Very true,” he concedes. “And what do you think of all your newfound powers?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.
There’s no way I’m talking about it with him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, wearing my best poker face.
Laughter erupts from him. “You do remind me so much of Ariana!” Clapping his hands, he says, “It’s wonderful! Truly wonderful! My dear sister. It’s like she’s sitting right in front of me.” He rises from the table and walks until he stands behind me. Sleekly, he pulls out my chair. “Walk with me.”
I push back from the table and stand. As I do, a side door I didn’t notice before opens revealing the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen.
“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice hopeful.
“It’s beautiful.” Sidling away from him, I run my hand along a violet flower. The beauty of this place is distracting, and I feel as though I could lose myself entirely. Before that happens, I ask, “Who are you exactly? I know you’re The Assembled, but I know there’s more to you than that.”
“And how do you know?”
How do I know? “I can sense it, somehow.”
He smiles proudly. “I am The Creator. I created this world,” he gestures to the scenery around us, “just as I created yours.”
The pieces of what he’s telling me start to form a picture. “You created man. You did that. You’re the reason we all exist.” As I say the words aloud, I’m not sure I believe them.
He nods.
“So where did you come from? Who created you?”
“I was alone,” he says simply, as if that explains everything. “When I opened my eyes for the first time, there was nothing and no one. I did not hunger or have thirst. I only had the need to create, to make worlds and species. Think of a child with limitless capabilities, endless imagination. Whatever I designed appeared. It was easy. It was fun. I was completely sated in my work. I had no wants of any kind for a very long time. But then one day, I grew lonely. I craved companionship. I guess you could say I wanted a touch of the humanity I created.
“Your mother was my first. We were quite the pair,” he says fondly. “But she wanted a sister. And so from her, I created Isadora. For a time, we three were very happy. I believed because they were part of me, they would be loyal to me. But I was wrong.
“Your mother rejected the life I so willingly gave her. Just as Nathaniel did. Things were spiraling out of control. Something needed to be done, so I created The Assembled, and I put Isadora in charge. Such messy business, the banishment of Nathaniel and your mother.” Lucas strolls along casually with me at his heels. I hang on every word, soaking in this lesson. It’s more than my mother or Gage or even Nathaniel have ever told me.
Lucas stops walking. He turns to me, looks me up and down. “Even I could not have foreseen what came next,” he says. “Breachers. Amazing creatures, really. Like rebellious teenagers. I have to admire their efforts, their will to live.”
His story is fascinating, but it doesn’t change the facts. “You did this to my mother. To your own sister. You made her what she is. What I am.”
His eyes travel over me again as though he’s drinking me in. It makes me want to add a few layers of clothing.
“Isadora did this to your mother,” he says sharply. And then he smiles like he’s delighted. “She really is a ruthless leader. I’d almost be in awe of her if she hadn’t decided somewhere along the way to betray me. She means to put an end to me, and she has you to do her dirty work.”
“I told you. I don’t want to kill you.”
“For now.”
We continue to walk until we reach a river. My heart leaps into my throat because this has to be the river of life. This is the water I need to release Nathaniel from Toby’s body. My entire body itches with wanting.
Suddenly, Lucas Church stops walking and faces me. Reflexively, I back up a step.
“In the end all of my children have disobeyed me, Mercy. I hope you’re not a disappointment to me.”
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“I’m asking you to join me. And if you say yes,” he glances knowingly at the water, “I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
The power to save Toby? Isadora off my back? This is more than tempting.
“Here’s what you need to understand. Your mother and Isadora are working together. Oh, they had me fooled for such a very long time.” He laughs as if he appreciates being tricked, as if he admires their cunning nature. “They were so convincing, you see.”
“That’s not possible. My mother hates Isadora for what she’s done.”
“Does she?” He presses his forefinger to his lips. “Let’s think about this, shall we? What is it that your mother wanted more than anything?”
The words slip out of my mouth. “To be with my father.”
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” He claps again. “How convenient then that she was banished, don’t you think?”
My stomach falls to my feet as a horrifying thought flashes through my mind. Nathaniel?
“No, my sweet girl,” he answers, hearing my thoughts. “Nathaniel was never aware of their pact.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Lucas clasps his hands behind his back. “Just out of curiosity, why do you deny your feelings for him?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
“We disagree on that point, sweet girl. You see, that is of most interest to me.”
“Why?”
&n
bsp; “Because it’s what sets you apart from the rest of them. Nathaniel, your mother, Isadora, they are driven mad by love. It is that single emotion that drives them. But you see past that, don’t you? You see the danger in giving over to your emotions because you know what will happen if you do. You’ve seen what it’s done to them, and that’s not what you want. You don’t want to go on forever. You want to live and die, to follow the design of things. My design.”
He’s right, but hearing him say it out loud makes me reconsider. “You make me sound heartless.”
“On the contrary! Your heart is greater than one love. You see the big picture. You understand. It’s selfish what they’ve done, Mercy. They’ve upset the balance. But you, you would never do that.”
I don’t know if he’s right. He makes me sound noble when really I was mostly too freaked out to acknowledge my feelings. I never wanted to choose between Nathaniel and Gage. I never wanted a love triangle, as he called it. And I did want to die. I do want to die. Eventually. If I let myself love Nathaniel, if I let him have my heart, he won’t let that happen. I thought I could count on Gage to help me, but even he denied me when I asked.
“What do you want me to do exactly?” I ask.
“It’s not what I want, Mercy. It’s what you want.”
“Meaning?”
“All you have to do is die.”
Chapter Nineteen
Gage
Instinctively, I back toward the door. This hotel room is not where I want to be. Seeing Isadora, Ariana, and Eric together is too much.
“Gage, wait.” Isadora cautiously approaches. “Let me explain.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Please.” Ariana begs me with her eyes. “I can see that you’re hurt. Sit down and we’ll talk.”
I wait for them to settle their positions before deciding where to sit. Never in a million years would I choose to sit with Isadora, so the spot next to her is out. My first choice would’ve been to sit near Ariana and Eric, but they’re here with Isadora, which makes me question everything. I realize Justice is my best option, but that doesn’t exactly sit well with me.
“I know this must seem strange to you,” Ariana starts.
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