The Darkest Star

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Anyway, life was happening again.

  Some days it was like everyone made a conscious decision to move on from the war and all the death, from the knowledge we weren’t alone in this universe or on this planet. The world had exhausted itself on fear, and then said, Nope, no more.

  Maybe that was for the better, because how could we keep living if all we feared was what the next second or minute would bring?

  I didn’t have an answer for that.

  My phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw April’s name pop up. Did I want to answer the phone? It felt like it was too early to deal with her. Immediately, guilt churned. I hit the accept call button on the steering wheel. “Hey!”

  “What are you doing right now?” she asked, her voice carrying through the speakers.

  “Um … driving past Walkers.” My stomach grumbled. I could practically taste the greasy amazingness. “I really would love a burger right now.”

  “It’s, like, eleven in the morning.”

  “So? There is no bad time for a hamburger.”

  “Well, maybe add some bacon and eggs to it, and you could call it breakfast.”

  My stomach rumbled even louder. “God, now I’m really hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry,” she commented. “Better keep an eye on that. Metabolism slows down as you get older.”

  Rolling my eyes, I then scowled. “Thanks for the info, Dr. April.”

  “You’re welcome,” she chirped back.

  I stopped at a red light. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing really, but have you been online today?”

  “No.” I tapped my fingers along the wheel. “Am I missing drama?”

  “There is always drama online, no matter the time or day, whether it’s a holiday or an apocalypse,” she replied dryly. “But yeah, there’s drama online. Except it’s the real deal. Oh wait. Is Heidi with you?”

  “No. I’m heading home. Does this have to do with her?” Knowing April, if something horrible was circulating about Heidi online, April’s first call would be to everyone and anyone other than Heidi. Wasn’t anything personal. She’d do the same thing to any of us.

  Sometimes I wondered why I was friends with April, but she was like two different people. There were times when she was the sweetest person, and then there was this other side of her that could be downright nasty. Then again, we weren’t exactly that close. She usually only called me when she had something she wanted to gossip about or needed a favor. Like now.

  “It has nothing to do with Heidi,” she replied.

  The light flipped green and I hit the gas pedal. “What’s going on?”

  “You know Colleen Shultz, right? She was in our English class last year.”

  As I slowed down to approach yet another stoplight, my stomach tumbled. Holy crap, I’d forgotten all about seeing Colleen at the club last night. “Yeah. What about her?”

  “She’s missing.”

  “What?” I slammed on the brakes, causing the seat belt to choke me. My gaze flew to the rearview mirror. Thank God no one was behind me. “What do you mean?”

  “Supposedly she went out last night with some friends and they got separated. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, right?”

  My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Right.”

  “Once everyone found each other later, Colleen never showed up. They went looking for her and ended up finding her purse and her shoes in this alley. Like you and I both know, that isn’t a good sign.” April’s voice heightened with excitement, because apparently there was nothing more exciting than a missing classmate. “But here’s the scandalicious part of it. Colleen was at that club last night. You know the one where supposedly all the aliens hang out? She was at Foretoken.”

  8

  Colleen’s disappearance was all I could think about the rest of the day, shoving aside everything that had happened with Luc and my stupid phone.

  I knew why Colleen had gotten separated from her friends. Obviously. It must’ve happened during the raid, and I was pretty sure I knew what alley April was talking about. The same one I’d nearly face-planted into after scrambling out of the window. I hadn’t seen a purse or shoes, but I also hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than getting away from that club and finding Heidi.

  April had insisted that Colleen’s friends had gone to her house and her parents hadn’t seen or heard from her either. It may be too soon to say she was truly missing, but no one knew where she was and April had been right about one thing, though. A purse and shoes left behind in an alley? That was bad news.

  When people disappeared under those circumstances, their stories rarely had a happy ending.

  But wasn’t that Luxen found in the same alley? The one who was horrifically beaten? That was what Archer had said. He’d found Chas by the dumpster. And how coincidental was that? Colleen’s belongings were found in the same alley where Chas had been nearly beaten to death?

  That was what woke me up Sunday morning and stopped me from going back to sleep. Had Colleen seen something at the club Friday night, something like what I’d seen? Luc had said … God, hadn’t he basically told me that people got hurt when they saw things they shouldn’t? Maybe not in those words exactly, but that was how they’d come across. And he was definitely hiding Luxen at Foretoken—unregistered Luxen.

  Did that happen to Colleen? She saw them or something, and now she was simply gone? Did it have something to do with what had happened to Chas? Maybe he knew something, and when he woke up, if he woke up, he’d be able to tell someone.

  Then again, Chas was unregistered. Who could he tell who wouldn’t jeopardize his safety?

  A shudder rocked me as I flipped onto my side. I wasn’t close to Colleen at all. With the exception of briefly speaking to her Friday night, we’d maybe exchanged a handful of sentences. Despite that and because of the reality of the situation, I really hoped she showed up.

  As I sat up and threw my legs off the bed, I couldn’t stop a horrible thought from forming. If something did happen to her, it could’ve … it could’ve happened to Heidi or me. I’d been in that dank, dark alley on Friday night.

  I’d fallen into it, actually.

  It could’ve happened to me when I went back to the club to get my phone. It felt like I’d tempted fate twice.

  And who knew where Heidi had been until she made it to the car to wait for me? Another shudder rolled over me. That was scary to think about.

  “That club is such bad news,” I muttered as I made my way to the bathroom.

  Colleen would probably show up to school Monday morning. The days of people simply vanishing without a trace were long over. People just didn’t go missing like that. Not anymore.

  I kept telling myself that the whole time I was in the bathroom and while I changed into a pair of leggings and a long shirt. Hopefully the power of positive thinking was a real thing.

  I snatched my poor cell phone off the nightstand and then made my way downstairs. Mom was already awake, in the kitchen, wearing a cream-colored robe and fuzzy kitten slippers that I swore were the size of her head.

  Despite her poor clothing choices, Mom was gorgeous. Her short, sleek blond hair never looked frizzy like mine. She was tall and slender, carrying an innate gracefulness even when she wore giant kitten heads as slippers that I figured hadn’t been passed down to me yet.

  I had a bad habit of comparing myself to Mom.

  She was like fine vintage wine, and I was the watered-down stuff that came in boxes and was sold at pharmacies.

  “There you are.” She held a monster-sized coffee cup between her palms as she leaned against the kitchen island. “I was wondering if you were ever going to get up.”

  Grinning, I shuffled into the kitchen. “It’s not that late.”

  “I was lonely.”

  “Uh-huh.” Walking over to her, I stopped and stretched up, kissing her cheek. “How long have you been awake?”

&
nbsp; “I’ve been up since seven.” She turned, watching me walk to the fridge. “Figured I’d spend Sunday in my pajamas. You know, not wash my hair or brush my teeth.”

  Laughing, I pulled out a bottle of apple juice. “That’s hot, Mom. Definitely the not-brushing-your-teeth part.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she replied. “We didn’t get a chance to chat last night. You were already asleep when I got home. You girls get into anything fun Friday night?”

  Making a face, I kept my back to her as I grabbed a glass. “Nothing really. We just watched movies and ate cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes.”

  “Sounds like my kind of Friday night.”

  As I poured the apple juice, I smoothed out my expression before turning to her. “I ate so many cupcakes.” Which was completely true. I probably gained five pounds on Friday night. I headed into the living room and plopped down on the couch, setting my glass on a coaster on the coffee table. Then I checked my phone. Zoe and James both had texted already. They wanted to grab lunch, but after Friday night and Saturday morning, I kind of wanted to hibernate safely in my house.

  For about a month.

  “You’re heading to Frederick today? Right?” I asked as I walked into the living room. Even thought it was Sunday, Mom worked a lot. There were some days I didn’t even see her, but before she got married and decided to become a mom, she traveled to places all over the world, investigating outbreaks of diseases. Now she did more research type work, overseeing a group of medical researchers in the infectious diseases part of the medical compound.

  Her job was kind of gross.

  The things I’d sometimes heard her talking about gave me nightmares. Boils and pustules. Vessels hemorrhaging all over the place, eyes bleeding and bursting. Intense fevers that killed people in hours.

  Yuck.

  “I brought some paperwork home to get caught up on, but I don’t have any plans to head out today.”

  “Damn,” I said, picking up the remote and clicking on the TV. “I was planning to throw a party. A massive one. With drugs. Lots of drugs.”

  Mom snorted as she sat perched on the edge of the chair, placing her mug on another coaster. Mom was big on coasters. They were everywhere in the house.

  She asked me about school as I flipped through the channels. There wasn’t much to tell her as I mindlessly continued to scroll, stopping when I saw the president was on one of the news channels.

  “What’s he doing on TV? It’s Sunday.” That was kind of a dumb question. The president, fair-haired and somewhat young—at least compared to other presidents—seemed to always be on television, giving press conference after press conference or addressing the people.

  “I think that’s a speech from Friday.”

  “Oh.” I started to turn the channel, but I noticed the banner along the bottom of the screen: PRESIDENT MCHUGH DISCUSSES BILL TO CHANGE ARP POLICIES.

  ARP stood for Alien Registration Program, a system that required all Luxen who stayed behind after the war to be identified and monitored. There were even websites dedicated to informing people if a Luxen was registered as living in a neighborhood or working at a certain business.

  I had never actually checked out one of those websites.

  “What is this about?”

  Mom lifted a shoulder. “There’s talk about changing some of the laws surrounding the registration.”

  “I figured that,” I replied dryly.

  When President McHugh spoke, he did so staring directly into the camera, and no matter what he said, there was always a slight tilt to his lips, like he was a few muscle twitches away from actually smiling but never fully committing. I always found that a bit unnerving, but everyone seemed to love him. I imagined his age helped, as did his appearance. I guessed he was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. Coming from a military background, he was elected in a landside the past year, campaigning on the promise to make our country safe for all Americans.

  I had a feeling he didn’t include the Luxen in the whole “all Americans” pitch.

  Flipping the remote in my hand, I asked, “Any details on the changes?”

  She sighed. “There’s a push for more separation, moving the Luxen to communities where they will be safer, which, of course, is safer for us.” She paused. “Also cracking down on unregistered Luxen. They have to pass the changes to existing laws to implement some of the programs he’s wanting to do.”

  I thought about the raid at the club and the Luxen hidden in the room—the Luxen who’d seemed terrified of me. I promptly changed the channel, settling on a show about people who hoard all kinds of things in their home.

  “I cannot watch this.” Mom shook her head. “It makes me want to start organizing things.”

  Rolling my eyes, I looked around our living room—at our painfully organized living room. Everything had a place, which usually involved a basket—a white or gray basket. The entire house was that way, so how could Mom organize more? Baskets by size? Color?

  But Mom was totally going to watch this. Just like me. We couldn’t help ourselves. These kinds of shows were like crack.

  Picking up my drink, I stilled when I heard a weird sound, something I couldn’t quite place. I put my juice aside, looking over my shoulder and into the foyer. The whole bottom floor was open, one room flowing into another with the exception of Mom’s office, which was a closed door accessed from the entryway. Sunlight filtered in through the narrow windowpanes on either side of the front door.

  Not seeing anything, I started to face the TV again when I thought I saw a shadow move in front of a window. I frowned. “Hey, Mom?”

  “What, hon?”

  The shadow by the window appeared again. “I think … someone is at the door.”

  “Huh.” She rose. “We shouldn’t be getting a delivery.…” She trailed off as the handle turned left and then right, as if someone were trying to open the door.

  What the…?

  My gaze shot to the security keypad on the foyer wall, confirming what I already knew. The alarm wasn’t set. It rarely was during the day, but the door was locked—

  The bottom lock turned, unlocking as if someone had used a key.

  “Mom?” I whispered, unsure if I was seeing what I was seeing.

  “Evie, I need you to get up.” Her voice was surprisingly flat and calm. “Now.”

  I’d never moved faster in my life. Backing up, I bumped into the gray ottoman as Mom quickly stepped around me. I expected her to go to the door, but she moved to where I’d been sitting. She yanked one of the pillows off the back of the couch and then pulled a cushion up.

  Mom took out a gun—a freaking shotgun—from underneath the couch cushion. My mouth dropped open. I knew we had guns in the house. Mom was in the military. Duh. But hidden under a couch cushion where I sat and napped and ate cheesy puffs?

  “Stand behind me,” she ordered.

  “Oh my God, Mom!” I stared at her. “I’ve been sitting on a shotgun this entire time? Do you know how dangerous that is? I can’t—”

  The deadbolt unlocked, the click echoing like thunder. I took another step back. How … how was that possible? No one could unlock the deadbolt from the outside. That could only be unlocked from inside.

  Mom lifted the shotgun, aiming straight at the door. “Evelyn,” she barked out. “Get behind me now.”

  I darted around the couch, moving to stand behind her. On second thought, I whipped around and grabbed a candleholder—the new wooden gray-and-white one I’d wanted to take pictures of later. Not sure exactly what I was going to do with said candleholder, but gripping it like a baseball bat sure made me feel better. “If someone is breaking in, shouldn’t we call the police? I mean, that seems like the nonviolent way of dealing with this, and the police can help—”

  The front door then swung open and someone tall and broad stepped inside, their features and form blurred out by the sun for a moment. Then the door swung close, slamming shut without anyone touching it, and the glow from
the sun was gone.

  I almost dropped the candleholder.

  It was him.

  Luc stood in my foyer, smiling like my mother wasn’t aiming a shotgun at his face—his pretty face. He didn’t glance at me. Not once as he inclined his head. “Hey, Sylvia. Long time no see.”

  My heart pounded erratically as my gaze bounced between the two. He knew my mom? Where I lived?

  Mom lifted her chin. “Hello, Luc.”

  9

  For a moment I didn’t think I moved or breathed as I stared at Mom, dressed in a robe and fuzzy kitten slippers, holding a damn shotgun, and Luc, wearing a shirt that read DILL WITH IT, and there was a pickle underneath the words, wearing … sunglasses?

  Yep. Sunglasses.

  I was still gripping my candleholder. “You know him, Mom?”

  That half grin appeared on Luc’s face. “Sylvia and I go way back, don’t we?”

  What?

  The shotgun in Mom’s hands didn’t shake once. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by for lunch.” He took a step forward. “Was hoping I’d get a home-cooked meal.”

  What the what?

  “Move any closer, and we will all find out what kind of lasting damage a twelve-gauge slug does to your head,” Mom warned.

  My eyes widened. Oh my word, Mom was a badass—a scary badass.

  However, it appeared Luc didn’t realize that yet. “That’s not really neighborly. Actually, it’s quite rude. Is that how you normally greet guests?”

  “You know better than to come here, Luc.” Mom had said his name again, confirming that I hadn’t been hearing things earlier. She knew him. “And you know damn well you’re not a guest.”

  Especially considering guests don’t normally let themselves in.