As everyone else went silent, watching their confrontation, I said carefully, “I’ll go, too.”
Dawn turned her ire on me. “Have you all gone crazy? No. You don’t have a way to disguise yourself, Grace, and you are too valuable to lose.”
I held my voice steady. “I’m the best distraction. If all eyes are on me, no one will be looking for you.”
“Absolutely not,” Dawn insisted.
“You don’t get to tell me no,” I said forcefully. “You’re the ranking leader of the resistance, but this isn’t the resistance anymore. There isn’t some grand organization making the rules . . . it’s just us. Making these decisions together. And I say, I’m going.”
Irene tentatively piped in, “What she said.”
Dawn stared at me, disbelieving, then turned to her wife. “You better stay alive. Both of you.”
I nodded, determined to make sure we did. We didn’t have any lives left to spare.
5
I found Zack sequestered in our room, changing clothes. As I entered, I hesitantly gestured to his six-pack, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least it worked, right? No one’s going to say you got any less attractive.”
Zack put his shirt on, embarrassed. “You’re going to make fun of me, too?”
“I will until you give me an explanation,” I said. “Since when do you care what you look like?”
“Doesn’t everyone care?” he deflected. “Isn’t that the world we live in?”
I wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “You were a badass CIA agent. Since when are you insecure?”
“Maybe since I stopped being a badass CIA agent and became Prophet Grace’s boyfriend,” he spat back.
I tried to maintain my composure, a little stung. “I didn’t realize that was such a terrible fate.”
His eyes filled with sadness, and he suddenly seemed vulnerable, like a stiff breeze would knock him over. “Do you know how emasculating it is, to be defined only by your famous girlfriend? To lose all sense of yourself, any sense of your own identity?”
Piece by piece, his words filled in the gaps of a puzzle, painted an image. “So what, you want me to be small, so you can feel big?” I stammered. “I thought you were criticizing me because there was something wrong with me. But you just felt bad about yourself, and you needed someone to feel better than?”
“No,” he protested. “It’s not like that at all. You’re wonderful . . . I never meant to make you feel like there was anything wrong with you. I just worry, if I’m not doing anything useful, what am I to you?”
I’d been so caught up in my own insecurities about our relationship, I hadn’t even considered Zack might have his own. “You mean you were worried I’d leave you?” It didn’t even seem possible that handsome, confident, brave Zack would worry that he might not measure up.
My shock seemed to reassure him. “You’re saying I shouldn’t be worried?”
I remembered all the illicit thoughts I’d been having of Jude, the insecurities I still harbored about our relationship. There was a part of me that was still so resentful of Zack, for all the times he’d failed to have my back. But knowing that he had his own fears was a strange kind of comfort. Maybe, if he put aside his, and I put aside mine, we could reshape this relationship into something even stronger. So I shook my head. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “I love you.” I let all my worries fall away. Let his soothing words and kind eyes sweep me back into our romance. Let myself fall into it like a soft pillow, luxuriate in its comfort.
“I love you, too.” Then I added, honestly, “And I’m worried about you, going out into that crowd in disguise.”
Zack brushed me off, happy to be back in badass hero mode. “I’ve taken on Ciaran once, I think I can handle him again.”
“Okay,” I said, the nervousness building inside of me. Maybe I was playing right into Ciaran’s hands, into my mother’s hands, by facing down Ciaran myself. But I wasn’t willing to sit idly on the sidelines. I was going to find that monster, and I was going to put him back in a cell, where he belonged. Ciaran was a message from my mother, and I was determined to send one back. If she wanted to hurt anyone else, she’d have to go through me first.
6
“Finally! Do you know how bored I’ve been?” Macy asked as we stepped out into the open, flanked by a few dozen soldiers. When she’d gotten wind of our plan, she’d eagerly volunteered to use her status as a beloved guru of Prophet Grace to help with my distraction.
“Don’t get too excited. You might get murdered,” I muttered back.
“But I probably won’t,” Macy contended, undeterred. “Look, I already helped spread your lies, not knowing they were lies. I want to do something good for the resistance, you know, on purpose.”
“You’re doing great,” I told her, and she beamed.
“I would have made a really kickass prophet though, right? You’re a decent one, so I trust your opinion.”
“You would have been—you are—the best,” I promised her. “If I could have recruited you as a guru by telling you the truth, I would have wanted you to do everything exactly the same.” Macy smiled, touched—the tension between us finally seemed to be easing.
As we surveyed the scene, I was disappointed to discover that the tent city was just as large as when I’d left it this morning—larger even, perhaps, as new pilgrims seemed to be arriving even now. Last night’s attacks had left a buzz in the air; candles burned in vigil and prayer all around the city. Everyone was on edge, waiting, knowing as well as I did that the violence was far from over.
I scanned the crowd, hoping I could spot my friends—Zack, Jude, Layla, and Irene. They’d gone out ahead of me, in disguise, to mingle with the Outcasts. But those disguises were working a little too well; I didn’t recognize a single face among the ones staring at me.
“Hello, friends,” I called out to the assembled pilgrims. “We’ll be here with you tonight, and every night. I’m going to make sure that you stay safe.” Macy nodded along, playing her part with solemnity.
I knew if Ciaran was here somewhere, my words would goad him. There was nothing my mother wanted more than to see me break my promises.
“All clear so far.” I turned, surprised to see an Outcast woman standing next to me—Layla, in disguise. She barely made eye contact; she was here for the mission and nothing more.
I, however, saw an opportunity to try to repair our friendship. “Thanks,” I said tentatively. “And thanks for talking to me again.”
She hesitated, then admitted, “You have been putting yourself in danger, too. I know that.”
I tried to tread carefully, in case she was softening toward me. “If you want to keep blaming me, I’ll understand.”
I sensed something inside her harden, just a little. “I don’t blame you for my father’s death. I blame you for becoming a prophet to begin with.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t want this,” I insisted, getting defensive. “I was just trying to get leverage, to free all of you . . .”
Layla pushed back. “You did not think any of it through. If we wanted to create a fake prophet, do you not think we had better options? But now it must be you, and all of our lives depend on you.”
“And I screw up a lot,” I finished for her.
She shrugged. “You screw up a normal amount. You are just a child.”
The more people told me I didn’t know what I was doing, the more I wanted to show them that I did. “None of us know what we’re doing. You don’t, Dawn doesn’t. We’re all making mistakes. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Jude certainly thinks so,” she said with a kind of derision that made me unwittingly hopeful. Was she jealous? Was Jude still in love with me? In an instant, a fantasy of him leaving Layla and confessing his love for me flashed through my mind. But I let it go just as quickly. Jude was Layla’s, and Zack was mine. Our group had enough rifts already; I didn’t
need to go adding any more.
I followed Layla’s gaze across the expanse in front of us and spotted an Outcast-faced Jude, near the outskirts of the camp, roving through tents. The sight of his face, even in its temporarily mangled form, made my heart beat a little faster. I still loved him, I had to admit that to myself. But more than anything, I wanted him to be happy, and from what I could tell, Layla made him happy. I put on a smile. “Maybe Ciaran and his friends won’t come out tonight after all.”
Layla smiled back, reassuring. “If they do not, we will come back tomorrow. And the next day.”
“Thank you.” I felt myself tearing up, looking around at this camp; I was grateful that even if I couldn’t protect these people with any kind of supernatural magic, my friends were keeping them safe.
But that relief was broken just as quickly by a scream echoing across the camp—from the place I’d just seen Jude patrolling. Heads turned, attention converging on the sound, trying to see what was happening. Layla and I exchanged a wordless look—perhaps we’d spoken too soon.
I left Macy behind as we ran toward the shouting, fighting against the ever-growing tide of pilgrims running away from it. The soldiers who’d been assigned to protect me sprinted after us, trying to keep pace as I pushed through the crowd.
As we approached the commotion, I discovered a ring of people keeping their distance from an Outcast wielding a bloody knife. The man looked at me, and the twinkle in his eyes told me exactly who it was: Ciaran, in Outcast form. He was filled with bloodlust, brought alive by the excitement of the violence he was committing.
My eyes roved to find his victim: a young girl cowering on the fringes of the circle, clutching her bleeding arm. Though her fear was palpable, her wounds seemed to be superficial. Ciaran hadn’t killed anyone yet tonight.
“Everyone, work together to restrain him!” I heard someone shouting. I was relieved to discover the voice belonged to Jude; he was already here, on the scene, helping to wield the crowd against my mother’s army.
However, Jude’s request was barely needed; clearly, this group was ready to fight back. They drew around Ciaran in a tight circle, closing him in. The soldiers finally caught up with us, raising their rifles, prepared to arrest Ciaran. I breathed a sigh of relief as they moved in—everything seemed to be under control.
But Ciaran still had a devilish smile on his face, one that gave me chills. A smile that didn’t subside even as he raised his hands in defeat, let the soldiers approach him . . . Soon enough, I figured out why he was so confident. While the soldiers were focused on Ciaran, another man, disguised as a pilgrim, darted out of the crowd and tased the back of one soldier’s neck.
It all happened in a flash. The crowd of pilgrims backed away, startled, opening a path for Ciaran to escape. The soldiers ran after him, as Jude jumped to tackle the Taser-wielding sociopath. As Jude and his opponent struggled, a third assailant shot out of the crowd, brandishing his own Taser.
“Jude, look out!” I cried, but not quickly enough. The two men together subdued Jude, then grabbed him by the arms and began dragging him away.
“No!” I cried out, running after Jude, Layla trailing behind me. I knew I was no physical match for any of these people, but I was desperate to do something, anything. “Stop them!” I cried out to the pilgrims around me. But for the first time in a long time, my words had no impact. I had promised to keep these people safe, and I had failed. They were terrified. I glanced over at Layla, who shared my horror. “Jude!” I cried into the night, feeling helpless.
But not hopeless. As the two men holding Jude pushed their way through the crowd, I sprinted after them doggedly, lungs burning; I’d never run faster in my life, desperate with adrenaline, using my wiry frame to duck through smaller openings in the throng that these soldiers couldn’t break through. Surely one of them would catch up soon, would come to Jude’s aid.
As the crowd thinned into an open expanse, I lingered on its edges, my whole body vibrating with panic and rage. This is what Ciaran wanted, I was sure of it—to lure me out beyond where I was protected. They must have targeted Jude specifically . . . was there anyone else in our group I’d risk myself for like this? Again, I wanted to fall for my mother’s trap. It killed me to let Jude out of my sight. But as I hesitated with indecision, Jude faded away into the night.
It felt like an eternity but must have only been a minute before three soldiers ran up next to me, Layla right behind them, the grief and fury on her face mirroring mine. “They went that way!” I told them, pointing, and they hurried off into the darkness. But already, I knew it would be too late. Jude was gone. And I had no idea how to get him back.
7
As we reconvened in the living room of our apartment, Jude’s absence sent a pall over the group. Macy paced anxiously, distraught that her first foray into resistance work had gone so poorly. In the corner, Layla was inconsolable, averting her eyes from me. Right after we’d managed to find some common ground, did she blame me for the loss of another of her loved ones? “We have to find him,” she sputtered.
“We will,” Dr. Marko promised, trying to soothe the room’s fears.
“There is one way to save Jude,” Dawn said tentatively, looking to Irene.
“How?” I asked, clinging to a tiny bit of hope.
Irene hesitated, then handed me a printout. “An anonymous email address sent me this message. Though it doesn’t feel that anonymous to me.”
I took the note, and Zack read it over my shoulder: “‘This is your last chance to join us.’”
An icy chill went through me. “It’s from my mother, isn’t it?”
“She still thinks she can convince you to defect?” Zack asked, incredulous.
“She’s right,” I said quietly. “She has Jude, I have to do what she says.” The room filled with angry stares. I grew defensive, insisting, “I can find a way to trick her, to save him, I know I can . . .”
“. . . Or that’s exactly what she’ll expect you to do,” Dr. Marko said pointedly.
Zack looked at me with sharp eyes. “We’ve got this handled, Grace.”
I shook my head, refusing to be exiled right now. “It’s Jude. I’m not sitting on the sidelines for this one. I’ve proven I’m not the mole by now, haven’t I?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Zack said stiffly. The others saw the tension rising between us and fell silent, watching.
“You still suspect me?” I asked incredulously. “You.”
“I didn’t say that,” he said gruffly.
“Then what, you’re just jealous because it’s Jude?” I asked hotly.
The whole room went silent, and Zack’s face grew red, his voice firm. “You have two options, Grace. You can stand here and argue with us, which will waste time, time Jude might not have. Or you can let us make a plan to find your friend.”
“Without me?” I said, fury rising. “You don’t get to decide that.” I wasn’t willing to accept Zack’s word as gospel; I wanted to force my way back into the resistance’s inner circle and find a way to help my friend. I looked around the room helplessly but could find no allies—it wasn’t just Zack who wanted me out. Even Macy shrugged, no idea how to defend me. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, anyway; the truth was I didn’t have any bulletproof plans up my sleeve.
“We’ll find him, I promise,” Zack said, softening, but my anger toward him still felt hard, sharp, biting. These walls he was putting up, keeping me out, were making it grow. I felt like if that anger grew large enough, I’d find a way to claw out of the cage he was putting me in.
“You’d better find him,” I snarled, hearing a threat in my voice I hadn’t put there on purpose.
Zack heard it as well and nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry. You can trust us.” I might have trusted the rest of them, but in that moment I didn’t trust him. I felt betrayed . . . he was supposed to be the one who had my back. How could this be the same man I’d kissed in the Amazon, the same one I’d adventured with around Redenção? T
his Zack seemed like a stranger to me.
It felt like my whole world was being swallowed up. Jude, the one person who’d always been on my side, was missing, and there was nothing I could do about it. Zack, my closest ally, was the one shutting me out. I felt deeply powerless. Made worse because on the surface, I had unlimited power. I could control everything and everyone except the people I actually cared about.
As I stepped out of the dining room, Layla followed, pulling me aside. “I want to save him as much as you do,” she said softly. A promise, a thank-you, an apology, wrapped into one simple statement of fact.
I hugged her as tears streamed down both our faces. All anger and competition forgotten, replaced by grief and fear. I’d lost Jude so many times. I didn’t know if I could bear to do it for good.
8
After several hours of half-sleep, I awoke in my own bed, alone. After all our fighting recently, I’d wanted so badly to find Zack at my side; his absence unnerved me, as did the buzzing voices coming from the floor below.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know what was going on. Tentatively, I crept downstairs, hoping I could overhear something useful. I lurked outside the boardroom, but I couldn’t make out anything until Zack exited, expression drawn. From the sliver of the room I could see through the open door, the mood of the rest of the group was just as bleak. When Zack caught sight of me, he went pale. “I didn’t realize you were up.”
“I couldn’t sleep. What’s happening?” I asked, worried.
Zack did his best to keep his voice calm. “Grace, I need you to stay out of this.”
His bossiness infuriated me. “My friend is missing . . .”
“Is he really just your friend?” Zack snapped.
I was taken by surprise. Zack’s accusation seemed to be coming out of nowhere. “Of course he’s just a friend. I mean, we had a little thing, you know that, but that was ages ago . . .”
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