by Cecily White
“You don’t remember, do you?” Henry sighed. “The Elders thought if you knew your power, you would turn on them. They couldn’t risk it, so they took your memories. I doubt they ever meant to let you live past the prophecy.”
I tried to filter Henry’s words through the rush in my brain, but my thoughts kept getting jumbled. Me and Jack? Bonded? Was that even possible? I remembered the bizarro need to protect Jack at assembly, the strange visions, the wicked amounts of power we’d generated together. Even how Hansen had laid into him while we were escaping. If we were bonded, then that meant…
“Wait a second. I was the girl you told me about?” I looked at Jack. “The one who’d stabbed you in the hand and forced you to bond? The one who ruined your life? That was me?”
Jack stared at the ground, silent.
It was the silence that bothered me. If he’d denied it or called me an idiot I probably could have handled that. But to just sit there like a lump? A giant part of me wanted to hit him, or kick him, or poke him with something sharp. Anything that would get a response.
“Jack?”
He looked at me helplessly. “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell them you’re not my bondmate,” I said, frantic. “Tell them it’s a mistake.”
But he didn’t. He just kept staring at his shoes, his eyes all dark and intense. And all I could think was how perfect he’d felt snuggled next to me last night, and the way my skin vibrated when we touched. And suddenly I knew why he couldn’t tell them it was a mistake.
“Oh, my God,” I breathed, finally. “Oh, my God, I’m such an idiot. That’s why Smalley gave me the portal locus code. She knew we were bonded. She knew we could survive the jump.”
“Ami, don’t be mad,” Jack begged, but I wasn’t listening.
Bit by bit, pieces of the puzzle took shape in my head. Everything fit. Our matching scars. The way I healed him. The freaky déjà vu and weird glowy stuff.
But…why? Why had he lied to me? Was I really that repulsive? Was the thought of being bonded to me so awful he had to lie about it for ten years?
“I never meant for you to find out like this.” Jack took a step toward me, but I dodged out of reach.
“Stay away from her. Can’t you see she wants nothing to do with you?” Bud hurried to block his path.
“Sir, this is between me and your daughter.”
“There’s nothing between you and my daughter.”
“Is that your decision? Or is it the Elders’? I forget,” Jack said, voice thick with sarcasm, “who’s running her life this week?”
While they argued, I slumped against the wall. My body felt like one of those wind-up dolls whose spinner had run down, and all I could do was sag lifelessly.
Jack was my bondmate.
If that was true, then why all the subterfuge? Why did he leave? I didn’t care who’d ordered him away. If it had been me, nothing would have kept me from him. Not age differences, or lost memories, or angry parents. Nothing!
In robotic silence, I worked Henry’s locks, then sketched out the portal containment wards for our escape. Distant shrieks of armed guards rang out down the hall, but Dad and Jack kept arguing. I don’t even think they noticed I’d left the conversation.
I lit up the wards with the usual incantation, and by the time I turned back, Jack had his sword out and Bud looked like he was ready to start swinging.
“Enough,” I said, quietly at first, then louder. “Enough!”
They both looked up, shamefaced.
“Jack, if you didn’t want to be my bondmate, fine. I’m not such a pathetic lump that I’ll disintegrate without you. I just wish you hadn’t lied to me.”
His sword dropped by his side. “I had to lie. To protect you. Everything I did was to protect you.”
Dad snorted. “So you dragged her in front of a firing squad?”
“Bud, I’m warning you—”
A clatter from the hallway interrupted whatever Jack was about to say, and we all froze, eyes fixed on the door. I wasn’t sure if it was the smear of blood along his cheek or the crossbow he leveled at Jack’s chest, but when Alec Charbonnet entered the cell block, his smile didn’t seem as charming as before.
“Have I come at a bad time?” he asked.
Before I could breathe, Jack raised his sword and started backing toward me until his body pressed tightly into mine.
“Lay one hand on her,” he threatened, “and I’ll kill you.”
“Lay one hand on her—” Alec mimicked, laughing. “If you’d shown half that courage last Monday, we wouldn’t be in this pickle. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused us? We were trying to make her look innocent. Then you muck it up by letting her channel with you?” He made a disapproving sound. “Shame on you, Smith-Hailey. Ami, come here.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” My dad stepped up next to Jack, one hand gripping my elbow. Like I might actually go with the crazy crossbow guy. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“Alexander Charbonnet, at your service.” Alec bowed politely. “Don’t worry, Mr. Bennett, I won’t let anything happen to your daughter. I’m afraid I will have to kill her Watcher, however. Deepest apologies.” The last words were said to Jack, along with a contrite nod.
“Mighty well-mannered for a serial killer,” Henry noted.
Jack still had one arm pressed protectively across my torso. His gaze bounced between Alec, my dad, and the mouth of the portal I’d left dormant at the far corner of the room.
“Alec, quit being an idiot.” I elbowed my way around Jack. “It’s over. I know who you are.”
Alec frowned. “What’s she talking about?”
“Sweetie, what are you talking about?” Bud asked.
“You don’t have to lie anymore. I know I have a twin,” I said. “Chancellor Thibault is Mom’s old Watcher. He must have kidnapped Alec when—”
“I know who Bobby Thibault is,” Bud broke in, “but why would you think—”
“I get why you didn’t tell me,” I insisted. “But you can’t deny this anymore. Alec is my twin brother. He’s the Graymason who’s been killing all those Guardians.”
Alec lowered his crossbow, his eyes gleaming wickedly. I noticed his hands were coated with blood, too, as was the sword at his belt. Admittedly confusing, since Graymasons didn’t need to draw blood to kill.
“You think I’m your brother?” he asked, skeptical.
“Well, yeah. I mean, it makes perfect sense. Thibault must have discovered what you were and he somehow managed to sneak you out—”
“Amelie, listen to me,” Bud broke in. “I don’t know who that boy is, but he’s not your brother. You don’t have a brother.”
I stared at my dad. Was he lying to me again?
With a grin, Alec shut the outer door, dimming the sound of the alarm. “Fun as this is, we really must be going. I took out as many guards as I could, but more are coming. So unless you want to watch the rest of your little party die as well, I suggest we take that portal.” He nodded to the silver puddle of light on the wall. “Your sister will be upset if I let you get injured.”
My sister? I stared at him, trying to find evidence of the obvious rip-roaring insanity infecting his brain. But there was nothing. His hair was neatly combed and he looked me straight in the eyes when he spoke. Totally normal.
Jack was the one who broke the silence. “Amelie has a twin sister?”
“No,” Bud answered, confusion plain on his face. “I mean, she did…for about three minutes. But the baby died.”
“Are you sure?” Jack frowned at my dad.
“Of course, I saw it myself. I was there when we buried her.”
Alec steadied the crossbow. “Yes, it’s stunning what memory modification can do. Very useful. Ami, say goodbye now.”
“But I don’t underst—”
It’s odd how you never know when your whole life is going to get thrown to the dogs. One minute you’re orchestrating a jailbreak wi
th your high school crush. Then you blink and everything’s in raw, bloody pieces on the floor.
With eerie calm, I watched Alec’s finger squeeze the crossbow trigger. My first instinct was to duck. Not that ducking would have helped. The bolt wasn’t aimed at me. It whistled past my shoulder and landed with a thud in its target—the center of Jack’s chest.
Chapter Nineteen:
Tin Man
I watched as blood spread across Jack’s chest in a wet, crimson stain.
This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
In a few seconds, he’d get up and yell at me to hurry with the portal so we could go snorkel in a cesspool, or something. And I’d grumble but I’d do it. Because whatever else happened, we stuck with each other. Maybe that’s why I got so angry when he sank to his knees on the cold white tile.
“Jack, get up,” I snapped at him.
He toppled sideways, his eyes searching the room in soundless panic. Blood dribbled onto the floor in tiny, dark rivers.
“Get up!” I repeated louder. “We have to go.”
Confusion clouded his gaze but he kept breathing, little air bubbles forming around the shaft of the metal bolt.
I sank to my knees beside him. With every passing second, it felt more real. More solid. More horrible. His eyes were glazed, his hand shaky as it patted the air in search of mine.
“Amelie,” Bud said from a few inches away. “Get back.”
But I couldn’t move. Jack’s lips moved in meaningless twitches. Inside me, something cracked and broke, a torrent of emotions flooding forward. Heat ripped through my brain, white-hot and strange like the chemical fires Gunderman made in the school lab. Green. Sharp-smelling.
The first flash of memory exploded in my head like a fireball.
It was kindergarten, my first week at St. Michael’s. The merry-go-round zipped in dizzy circles, Ty Webster pushing it harder and harder. I screamed at him to stop, that I was going to fall, but he wouldn’t. When I hit the ground, sharp rocks dug into my palms, embedded so deep I couldn’t tell what color they were.
A line of kids gathered to laugh at me. I remember thinking if I were tough like my mom I’d get up and shove Ty Webster. Maybe kick him, or call up a channel and turn his hair blue. Dad had warned me not to channel at school, since most kids didn’t get their powers until puberty. He didn’t want anyone asking questions. So I stayed put, curled in a ball, my head buried at my knees.
I cried that way until an older boy with blond hair and glasses pushed his way to the front and picked me up. He didn’t say anything, just carried me to the healer and stayed in the waiting room while she dug the pebbles out of my palms.
He was waiting for me when I came out. He asked if I was okay and walked me back to class. The next day, I gave him some animal crackers out of my lunch to say thank you. He smiled this awesome, crooked smile, then bit the head off each animal cracker, one by one. That’s how he gave them back to me, slobbery and decapitated.
There were a few more lightning flashes of memory, somewhat less intense. Lisa and me crouched behind the sandbox in first grade, spying on that same boy. His third grade piano recital when he screwed up his solo but I gave him flowers anyway. Pink tulips. He snapped the heads off those, too, and gave the stems back to me.
The memories unfolded like road maps of my life. Strange and complicated. But nothing prepared me for the searing hot needles that scraped across my mind at the next one.
It didn’t surface naturally like Dr. Evans promised. It felt more like someone had heated up a scalpel, then excavated the memory from my brain with sharp jabs.
I was in a sage-colored room with a carved white mantle and crown molding that descended nearly a foot from the ceiling. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, pictures of angels spun with deep reds and gold. Gilded wall-sconces shimmered unevenly, casting flickers of light across the polished hardwood floors. It was almost time to leave the PTA meeting, but all the kids had hidden for one last round of hide-and-go-seek. I’d chosen a spot behind the Christmas tree so I could look out the window.
I thought they were shadows at first. Black clouds billowed out of nowhere, thin seams of gray light staining the air. The sky was practically flooded before I realized they were demons.
Things happened fast after that. I stayed hidden. I heard my mother’s voice in the hallway, calling to me, but I was too scared to answer. By that time, the room was on fire. Tapestries flapped in the heat; oil paintings melted into the walls. Even the Christmas tree was in flames. More screams came from the hall, a few tearing sounds, and a crunch like chicken bones in the garbage disposal at home. I clamped my hands over my ears to shut it out, but I couldn’t. It was like a recording in my head. My mother’s screams. The chicken bones.
When the blond boy grabbed my sleeve and dragged me from the burning tree to behind a couch, I didn’t fight. He put his hand over my eyes, and tried to push me out the door. “Run!” he yelled, over and over again. “Run!”
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t do anything.
My mind clawed at comprehension like fingernails through a sandcastle. Demons were close. My mother was dead. I would die soon, too.
Oddly, what troubled me most was the heat. Not the heat from the room, but from the black fire growing inside of me. Power burned at my skin, staining my thoughts. The fear, the rage. I had to get it out. My eyes were cemented shut, but somehow my hand managed to find a shard of broken glass.
The boy didn’t yell when I stabbed him, or when I stabbed myself. Even when the Crossworld energy brought him to his knees and shudders of agony ripped through him, he didn’t let go of my hand. That boy.
Jackson Smith-Hailey.
Through my pain, I saw the room flood with pink light, a seashell glow we could feel as much as see. A burst of power hurtled out of us. I’d never felt anything so violent. It burned through the walls, tore up the ceilings. In the back of my mind, a thousand anguished cries echoed—souls of the damned as they scurried back to hell.
That’s all I remembered of the fight.
Jack held me after, for hours it seemed. The rescue crew tried to pry me out of his arms, but he kept screaming at them to leave us alone. I think they must have drugged him, because he was unconscious when they finally hauled him away.
And me?
I let him go.
I sat there like a useless lump and let them take him. Just like I let my mother get ripped to pieces while I hid.
Disgust pulsed through my body as the momentary flash faded back to reality—to Jack, bloody and limp in my arms. I wouldn’t let him go this time.
“Inergio,” I yelled at the portal.
Jack’s head lolled against my chest as I hooked both arms under his shoulders, careful not to disturb the wound.
“Amelie, don’t make a fool of yourself,” Alec said from across the room. “I won’t let you escape again. Jackson’s death isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. Your sister needs you. The Guardians need you.”
I glared at him. “What you need is an attitude check. Doloré.”
Instantly, Alec crumpled to the floor. I didn’t entirely know what the curse would do to him, since it wasn’t in any of our books. But it’d been effective enough when Ms. Hansen used it on Jack. And if she hadn’t been damned to prison for throwing an illegal curse at a Watcher, then I probably wouldn’t be, either.
“Inergio.” I tried the portal again.
In a wash of power, it flared to life, casting flickering shadows across Bud’s stunned face. Jack’s feet trailed dark smears across the tile as I dragged him toward the portal. I’d made it halfway there when I felt the burden lighten.
“I’ve got him,” Henry said. “Amelie, I’ve got him.”
He had to say it a few times before I understood. Together, we hefted Jack to the mouth of the portal, then Henry grabbed my dad by the shirt. Alec would be released from the curse the instant we left. If he had a death wish, he might even try to follow us. B
ut what else could I do? Even if I had enough power to channel a killing curse and make the jump, I didn’t know if I’d want to. Despite what everyone thought, I wasn’t a killer.
“Ready?” Henry tightened his grip on my dad.
“The shields will be weak,” I warned. “Don’t let go of me.”
Henry nodded. “Do it.”
“Familia fides.”
Every atom in my body stretched and squeezed like Silly Putty as the portal activated, sucking us in. Demons thrashed at my shields, but I clung to Jack. He was my source. As long as he lived, I could use his power as an amplifier.
After what seemed like an eternity, a tiny speck of light appeared in the distance. I fumbled toward it, my grip tight around Jack. It was like being stuck at the bottom of a lake. For the first few seconds it isn’t bad—kind of dark, heavy. Then your oxygen gives out and you know you need to breathe, but the surface is still twenty feet above you. So you kick and thrash, and your lungs keep getting tighter and tighter ‘til you can’t feel anything but dizzy.
In short, it sucked.
I was barely conscious when my body slammed into something soft and a cloud of Strawberry Shortcake perfume erupted around me.
Jack had fallen silent. He lay beneath me on his side, the wet stain of blood from his chest leaking onto my bedspread.
“Exitus!” I closed the portal with a wave of my hand, and glanced around to make sure I hadn’t lost anyone. Bud lay in a crumpled ball at the foot of my bed. Poor Henry half-dangled off my dresser, covered with the shattered remnants of a vanilla body glitter jar.
“That went surprisingly well,” said Henry, sliding off the dresser with a thunk.
I rolled Jack onto his back, trying to keep the crossbow bolt steady. The blood flow had slowed, but I could still feel his pulse.
“Dad, show Henry where the linen closet is. I need clean towels. Lots of them. Then go downstairs and make me some coffee. Extra caffeine.”
My voice must have sounded authoritative, because the men scrambled to their feet and scurried away without question. By the time Henry returned with the towels, I’d ripped off Jack’s shirt and started mopping up the blood with a Beanie Baby. It’s a real testament to how freaked out I must have been, because the whole shirtlessness thing didn’t even distract me.