"… needs to understand..."
They sound close, but I still cain't understand all of what they are saying. Are they talking about me? I fight with my eyes, prying 'em open.
It takes a minute of frantic blinking 'til my eyes adjust to the brightness and fall on the two shadows standing next to me, so close I could probably reach out and touch 'em. I notice the eyepatch right away. Mack is facing me, but the other person's back is to me, and all I can see are the tufts of gray hair, instantly making me think of Grada. But then reality sinks in, and I know it ain't him. Grada is dead. Gone. Just like—
"Finn!" the name bursts outta me in a wail of pure grief, and the pain that shoots through my chest takes my breath away. I bolt up, hyperventilating, the pain making it impossible to draw a breath into my starving lungs.
"Hey, hey, calm down." Mack is on me in a flash, holding my shoulders. "It's okay, Tara. Finn is fine. He's alive."
I stare back in bewilderment, the words not making a bit of sense in my head. Why would Mack play such a cruel joke on me? I’d seen Finn shot; I seen him die in fronta me. Why would Mack try to make me believe otherwise? I reckon he sees the disbelief on my face 'cause he shakes me a little.
"I would never lie to you about that, girl. Finn is very much alive."
I start to tremble as my brain refuses to believe Mack’s word even though my heart is already invested. Finn is alive?
"How …" I begin as I fight the spark of rising hope. "That's impossible."
"See for yourself," Mack says, smiling as he stands aside and motions to the open window on the other side of the room. On shaky legs, I make my way outta the bed and to the window, the smell of the grass much stronger now. My gaze is hesitant, almost afraid to look, afraid that Mack is lying to me after all. But then I hear that laugh. That silly, goofy laugh and I look out upon the sweetest sight my eyes have ever seen. Finn is sitting on a little hill across a green, grassy field covered in wild flowers. Flowers. One arm is in a sling while the other throws a stick for Cat, who takes off like a shot after the projectile.
"He's alive," I whisper, and I don't care that tears are squirting outta my eyes now like some old gramma on her grandbaby's born day. I feel life slowly seeping back through my heart like much-needed rain seeping through the cracks of a dried-up riverbed. My legs feel like they're gonna give out on me, and I have to lean against the windowsill to keep myself upright. It feels like my heart just may break from sheer joy as the reality finally dawns on me. Finn is okay. I keep staring at him, taking in his features like I cain't get enough of him.
Mack comes up behind me, laying his hand gently on my shoulder.
"Finn, like his furry companion, truly does seem to have the proverbial nine lives."
"But I seen him shot," I whisper to Mack. "I saw the wound. How did he survive that?"
"Some thanks goes to lady luck, the slug missed anything vital. But mostly because of our new friend here. He was the one who saved Finn's life."
New friend? I turn around then to finally acknowledge the other person in the room. He is old, older than even Orakel, I think. His hair is sparse and sticks up from his head in scraggly tufts. His face is so wrinkled and caved in it looks like crinkly paper. Like if you blew on it, it would just disintegrate into the wind. But despite all that, there ain't nuthin' feeble about him. He stands tall, his back straight and proud, and his gray eyes stare into me with fierce interest and something else I cain't quite place.
"Tara, Ernst. Ernst, Tara."
"I am so happy to see you, child," he says with such a strong voice it surprises me. Then, without warning, he crosses the room in two strides and pulls me into his arms. I start at the familiar blood bond tingle that passes between us, but I don't pull away. Instead, I hug him back with all the thankfulness in my heart for saving Finn's life.
"You're a New Blood," I say, my voice muffled by his shoulder. He pulls away some but still holds me at arm's length, staring into my face.
"I was, at one time," he says.
"That's how you saved Finn."
"That was part of it," he says.
His words baffle me, but I don't question what he is saying. Not for the moment. Finn is alive, and it seemed to be 'cause of this stranger in fronta me.
"Thank you," I whisper, and he simply smiles at me, his hand brushing the side of my face like he cain't truly believe I’m standing in fronta him. Like somehow, he knew me. It unnerves me a little.
"Jax? Ben? Tater?" I question Mack, my fear renewed as my brain finally begins making all the connections, and I start remembering.
"They all made it out alive and well. Jonas and Belle and their people. Beanie and Talbert too, although they are a little worse for wear," he says, and I close my eyes, squeezing back more tears. But then the image of Flip pops into my head, and I can feel my heartbeat increase with sickening dread. I don't wanna ask the question, but I need to know.
"Who ... who didn't make it?" I say hoarsely.
Mack sighs and rubs the back of his neck.
"Maybe this isn't the best time, Tara—"
"Who, Mack? I need to know," I plead, and I guess he can hear the desperation in my voice 'cause he don't argue no more.
"Flip … two of Zoe's men … and Riven."
Flip I remember, but another little piece of my soul dies at Riven's name. His big, burly frame lingers in my mind, and I'm kinda glad I didn't see it happen, not like Flip. I don't wanna remember him any other way. Zoe's men. I don't even remember their names, yet they had died trying to get us outta the city, and I send a silent prayer of thanks to 'em, to all of 'em who died and for all that they sacrificed for us.
"There would have been more casualties for certain if you hadn't done what you did—"
“Mack, don’t try to justify….” I whirl in anger to cut him off but I’m startled into silence as I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall beside the window. The face that stares back is mine, but the crow black hair I’m used to seeing is now almost pure white. The whole top of my head is white with streaks of black intertwined. What the hell?
“My hair?” I question as I touch it in disbelief. The panic that’s simmering must be evident in my voice‘cause Ernst is quick to reassure me.
“Nothing to worry about. The white hair is just a manifestation of the tremendous power surge you experienced at the gate. You are truly a New Blood of the light now.”
His words conjure up the memory of the intense heat and the feeling that my hair was being scorched offa my head.
Before I can dig any deeper the door bursts open, and two bodies fighting for position pretty much fall into the room. Two pairs of eyes, one brown and one sky blue, gaze upon my face and hair in wonder, but to their credit neither says anything.
"Told ya I heard her voice," Ben says over his shoulder as he strides ‘cross the room and pulls me into his arms with years of familiarity. I hug him back, so happy to see him alive. But it's the blue eyes that I stare at with yearning. Those are the arms that I want to feel around me. The still-bruised face is the one I ache to touch. But Jax don't come to me like Ben had done, even though I’m wishing with all my might. Instead, he just stares at me ravenously, like he ain't laid eyes on me in years. That look makes my legs weaken, and I stumble back to the cot I’d been laying on earlier.
"Nice of you to join us, boys," Mack says dryly at their unexpected entrance.
"Nice of you to let us know she was awake," Jax's comment is equally sarcastic, and I look back and forth between 'em, puzzled at their tone. "You said you would let us know as soon as she woke up. Have you told her anything?"
"No, we have not had the opportunity—"
"Told me what?" I interrupt right away.
"All in good time," Mack says, still glaring at Jax, but my irritation begins to sprout at their evasiveness.
"Told me what?" I insist. "And while we're at it, someone mind tellin' me where the hell we are?"
I’ve finally noti
ced my surroundings. The room is … odd to say the least. The walls are built from stone, looks like, and the wall the cot rests against seems to be made of solid rock. Like the place was built into the side of a mountain.
The old man answers my question, confirming my belief.
"We are deep in the mountains. Safe. My home and far away from his prying eyes."
The mountains? The mountains were days of travel from Skytown, possibly weeks.
"How did we get here? I don't recall any traveling. How long was I out?"
Mack and Jax exchange a look.
"I think it is too soon; she just woke up," Mack says.
"She has a right to know everything, Mack," Jax says.
"I agree with Mack. Give her more time," the old man says.
"She is strong enough to handle it." Even Ben? And he is agreeing with Jax. What the hell is going on here?
"You know I can hear y'all, right? I mean, I'm sittin' right here," I say. Ben and Jax don’t seem to take any notice of my anger, but I can tell I've startled the old man. He scrutinizes me with his watery, gray eyes.
"Are you sure the time is right?" His question is meant for Mack, but it annoys me to no end.
"For the love of gods. If someone don’t tell me somethin’ soon, I'm gonna knock some heads together."
Mack finally nods at the old man, like he’s giving permission for something. Ernst pulls up a chair and sits, studying my face over his clasped hands.
"Fine. What is the last thing you remember?"
I think back.
"Finn gettin' shot, tryin' to reach him. But I couldn't because I was so weak. So weak and … like I was burnin' up." I remember the feeling intensely. Like my eyes were gonna cook right in my head. I reach up and touch my hair, amazed again at the consequences. "It felt like there was this fire inside of me, roastin' me alive. Then people comin' through the gate and takin' Finn then … then nuthin'."
Ernst nods at my words, like they somehow made sense to him. Well, at least it seems to make sense to one of us.
"That was your uncontrolled Chi. It knocked you out of commission for twelve days while your body healed itself. Lucky, really. I have never known of anyone to experience mercurial Chi and live to talk about it. You must be impressively strong."
He looks pleased by his words, like somehow I had done him proud. All it does is scare me something fierce.
"So my Chi nearly killed me? Is that what you’re sayin'?" The story of Jax's sister, Jenna, pops into my head. Of how she had died 'cause of her not being able to control her Chi. My heart hammers against my ribs as I realize how close I had come to meeting that same fate.
"Unfortunately, yes. It is still not under your control, especially when your emotions run high. You will have to learn to discipline the force that pumps through your blood. Right now, your Chi is just raw, pure energy in its most powerful configuration. Energy that is constantly changing beneath the surface and flowing through your blood. You can control it with your powerful mind to use as much or as little as you desire. Releasing too much of this energy in one burst can have detrimental effects on your physical body as you clearly found out. I can help you with that. I will teach you—"
"Who the hell are you?" I cut off his ramblings. He may be excited by what I'm telling him, but I sure ain't the least bit pleased at how close I had come to dying. "And where did you come from? How did you find us? How were you conveniently there at that exact moment to help Finn? And why should I even trust anythin’ that comes outta your mouth?"
He sits back in his chair, taken aback.
"I told you she was a volatile firecracker," Mack says indulgently, and Ernst chuckles.
"Yes, she certainly is a bit headstrong. That's something we can use to our advantage though—"
"Again, I can hear you. Stop talkin' about me like I ain't here," I say, and Ernst pretends to smooth out his gray mustache with his fingers, but I know it's just to cover up his grin. "And you better start answerin' my questions to my likin' or else this conversation is done, understood?"
"Tara, let him talk. This is something you are going to want to hear." Jax is now leaning against the wall, arms folded, and the look on his face tells me something is definitely up. I cain't help the feeling of dread in my gut as I nod at the old man to go ahead.
He clears his throat.
"Very well. Let's start at the beginning then, shall we? As I have already told you, this mountain village is my home … and home to my people. There are over two hundred of us living here; although, that number has increased two-fold since the arrival of the raiders and the escapees from Skytown. And yes, they are all here," he says in answer to the question forming on my lips. I snap my mouth shut.
"I arrived at Skytown with the raiders. Ever since I heard of you from them, I have been eagerly waiting to find you, to talk to you, and help you become what I know you can be."
"Heard of me from them? So you're a raider, too?"
"Oh, my heavens, no. But I have known Busher and his crew a very long time. We have what you would call a mutual agreement. We supply them with crops and whiskey, and they supply us with whatever needs we cannot grow ourselves. It works well for us."
"Does he know you’re a New Blood?" I say, questioning why he ain’t tried to turn the old man in for a reward like he had done with me.
"It is a bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid," he says.
That ain't no explanation. He don't give no more detail on the matter though; he just keeps talking.
"I made my way to Skytown as soon as I heard of your presence there and the escape plan. I had a feeling my assistance would be required. I was not wrong. We waited for you all to escape the tunnel, but when only about half of you made it through; we knew something had gone terribly wrong. Then when we heard the shooting start up again, we realized we had to intervene. The cat and the boy doubled back before any of us realized he was gone, unfortunately, but we were not far behind."
"Far enough to let him get shot," I say bitterly, "and to let my Chi grow so outta whack that I became a-a monster," I whisper the last words, the horror at what I had done to the soldiers still fresh in my head. But he hears 'em.
"No, you are not a monster. Misguided, untrained, naïve even, but not a monster. You experienced something that, unless you have been trained to control, was more like a force of nature. Your response was instinctive, primal. Your Chi recognized a threat and eliminated it. Any untrained New Blood would have reacted in the same manner."
"Would you have?" I study his face at my words, wondering if he will speak the truth or just say something he thinks I wanna hear.
"Yes and no. My response would probably have been less archaic—and damn well less effective. I am nowhere near as powerful as you. Especially not now. But nevertheless, it would have ended with the same result. Threat annihilated. Although, unlike you, I would not have been wiped out by my show of strength. I have been around a long time. Long enough to know how to control Chi and use it safely."
"How?" I ask, and he stares at me in puzzlement. "How do you know so much? Do you know where we come from? How this weapon of ours came about? 'Cause it is a weapon, ain't it? It ain't no gift from the gods or any of that other shite I've been told. When I was … doin' that to those soldiers, I knew. Deep in my heart, I knew my Chi is a terrible weapon." I look at him with beseeching eyes. "I'm right, ain't I?"
He don't even try to lie to me. "Yes."
I'm afraid to look at Jax or Ben. I don't wanna see how they react to this bit of info.
"How do you know?" I question.
"Because I was there from the beginning," he says.
"The beginnin' of what?"
"Of the change in the world order after the Shift. Of human evolution. Of New Bloods."
I scoff at his words. "That's impossible. The Shift was well over a hundred years ago. Lily said New Bloods have been around since then, too. How in hell would you have been around then? That would have to make you mo
re than—"
"A hundred and sixty-two born years," he finishes for me. At first I think he’s pulling my leg, but he ain't ribbin’ me. I can tell. Not in the least. I don't know why I ain't more surprised.
"Him, too?" I ain't gotta explain who I'm asking about.
"Yes. I knew him as Max." His laugh is humorless. "Quite a humble name really, for someone who became known as the all-powerful Prezedant. We were associates once—scientists in our former lives." He must see my confusion at his words 'cause he tries again. "We were researchers, healers, I guess you would call us now, assigned to protecting our government from exposure to the biological warfare. The world was at war, Tara. And it wasn't just from fire bombs like you have been told. Radiation, toxic gases, tainted air, and water, those were the biggest threats. With most of our soldiers dying off from these deadly biological toxins, we needed to come up with some way to fight it. To keep our people alive. To make them more resistant, so we engineered human blood with genetically modified cells to fight these toxins. To build up immunity and keep our enemies from wiping us out. The basis was to produce high-value red blood cells that would do more than just carry oxygen through our bodies. They would transport a bounty of genetically engineered proteins that would protect its host by targeting specific toxins. In other words, it would fight off the poisons that were killing us. It worked better than we could have ever imagined at first. Not only was the modified blood neutralizing the toxins the hosts had already been exposed to, but any other diseases or conditions they had before the blood transfusions were being affected as well. The test subjects were healing themselves. From the simplest of broken bones to cancerous tumors, these soldiers were healing at an accelerated rate. But then a few of the test subjects began to exhibit other side effects."
I'm not understanding everything he’s saying, but I get the gist. Him and the Prezedant, they had added something to the soldiers' blood to make 'em stronger. Something that wasn't natural.
"What were the side effects?" I say.
"They were slight at first. Increased strength, especially when distraught. The ability to affect their surroundings just by concentrating on doing so. Nudge a table, move a chair. Nothing too alarming. But then we started noticing physical changes in these few. Their hair started turning white: systematic white stripes that seemed to exude an aura when the subject was agitated. This aura, it was like raw, pure energy just radiating from their bodies."
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