Gallagher flings his arms out to the side, a snow angel on a blue rubber mat in the middle of a high-tech Super facility.
“Four,” he gasps, grinning like he just won that many gold medals in the Olympics. “Four. I took…four…with me. The most I’ve ever taken…is two. And that…was a longshot.”
I shake my head, breath catching in my chest. I’d never stopped to consider how difficult it would be for him to teleport other stuff along with himself, let alone other people. My heart hammers in my chest at how damn close we were to not getting out of there at all.
Masters grunts and steps back a foot as a blur of turquoise darts into our little gathered circle. Vera kneels over Gallagher, taking his face in her hands, kissing each of his cheeks and temples over and over again, pressing her palm against his chest like she’s checking for a heartbeat, even though a smile tugs at his lips and his eyes search hers.
“McCoy,” Gallagher says. “And I didn’t even think you cared.” Vera pulls him to her, and I suddenly feel like I’m interrupting something.
It’s then that I notice how heavy Merrin’s frame feels against mine. I’m reminded, as I’m sure I’ll need to be a lot over the next few weeks, that all her lightness is gone — forever. Goddamn Cure.
“Where’s Hayley?” Merrin asks, turning her head into my chest. “She made it back, right?”
President Masters nods. “She’s in the infirmary. Welcome back, Miss Grey. You’ve served your first mission for CSH admirably.”
Merrin lets her arm drop from around my waist, squares her shoulders, and quirks an eyebrow. “So it’s protocol at CSH to leave an asset stranded in the field when things go downhill? I thought that was…interesting.” Merrin stares at Masters.
I try not to smile too noticeably, but I’m mostly just so happy that Merrin is still herself enough to tell off a Hub president.
“Another time, Merrin,” her dad says, pressing his palm to the wound on his shoulder, now with a clean patch of gauze, anxiously watching the door. “We’re still waiting for your mother to come back. Then we can talk specifics.”
“Do they have a radar on Doctor Grey?” Gallagher asks.
“I’ve asked them to try to catch her, but we didn’t get her point of takeoff,” Masters says. “And, frankly, with as fast as she can fly, I’m not sure we have the resources to do it if we wanted to.”
Gallagher approaches us, looking more steady already. “Sir, should we go debrief?”
“Yes, you first since you’re the most in need of reprimand. Then Mr. VanDyne.”
But before anyone can move, the whole building shudders, and a split-second later, a streak of glowing hot fire slices through the room on a diagonal, starting at the arena’s open roof hatch.
Merrin’s dad slumps into a folding chair. She’s back. Okay. She’s back. All of his sorrow and worry and stress and thoughts about the boys and what they would do without a mother flood my mind, and it’s too much.
Too much, I think, and then the voices are gone. Just like that.
My heart drops into my stomach. I realize that, ever since I’d focused so clearly on Hayley’s words back there in the Hub, most of the voices and the feelings of the Supers’ around me have melted into a dull hum. Hayley forcing me to focus on her particular words taught my brain how to block out all the other, less important noise.
Just one more thing that girl did for me.
Just to see if I can listen to individual thoughts, I hone in on Masters. He’s annoyed and stressed and angry, but he’s looking at the group of us — four sad little Ones from Superior, Nebraska — and feeling pride. And potential and excitement.
And that’s enough for me to know that Leni, Daniel, Merrin, and I are going to be okay here at CSH.
At first I think it’s from exhaustion, the way the air around me swirls and the edges of my vision go black. But then, dread and fear settle deep into my bones, and I know. The whole room shakes and shudders, and a crack splits the floor. People scream and run, but I just stand there, holding tight to Merrin’s hand. Merrin squeezes it and doesn’t startle or move, brave girl that she is. I don’t move because I know exactly what’s coming. Or, rather, who’s coming.
They are exactly what I most and least want to see. Finally, they’re both solid. Lia’s on her back, eyes closed, barely moving, and Nora struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, to raise her head and open her eyes. Nora turns her face to mine, her wide blue eyes framed by deep purple bags, and gasps — desperate, short breaths that tell me she’s truly panicking.
Immediately, I’m next to her, rubbing her back and kneeling. She covers her mouth with her hand. “She — she stopped being able to control herself at all about a day ago. She’s moving in and out so violently and quickly. I’m okay. I can. But she — I don’t know where she’s going, if it’s going to be in the middle of a wall or a war zone or… Elias, I don’t know what to do. Fisk messed her up so badly.”
Lia’s head lolls back, her lips pale and cracked, her skin sallow. She’s listless, maybe unconscious. No sound moves past her lips.
Merrin moves to my side, fumbling in a pocket. “I think there’s only one thing we can do,” she says, holding out the small capped syringe to me. I draw back and look at her, my eyebrows up. She gives me a look in return, and I hear her thought exactly. It’s the injectable form. You don’t think I’d leave there without snagging whatever I could, do you?
The thought is so Merrin that I manage a smile and a short laugh, and she blinks hard, shakes her head at me, confused.
“I…I can hear you,” I explain. “Read your mind. It’s a long story.”
Merrin’s eyes well up. “You can hear everything?” She asks in a choked whisper.
“Only what I want to hear. Hayley helped me get it under control. I won’t listen to you unless you say it’s okay. I promise.”
Merrin nods and looks at me warily but quickly turns her attention to my sisters, kneeling next to Nora. “Nora. Hi. We’ve met briefly.” She gives a slight, twisted smile, and Nora returns it.
“Looks like she’s not doing too well.” Vera stoops over Lia and leans down to feel for her pulse. “It’s erratic. 40 to 140. It’s the forty that really worries me. I’m not sure what else we can do, Mer.”
Merrin squares her shoulders, swallows. “Nora, I have the Cure here. The same formula they gave me, the one that took away my One.” Merrin’s voice trembles. “It’ll take away her Super, but — ”
“Do it,” Nora says. “Do it right now before all these Supers kill her.”
I look at her with my eyebrows up. “That’s it?”
“Yes, Elias, that’s it. I don’t give a shit about her Super or how pissed off she’ll be. She’s my sister, and I want her alive. I need her.”
Well, now I feel like an asshole. Especially because that’s the way I’ve always felt about Merrin. I know that feeling of just wanting someone to be okay, to stay with you, no matter what the cost.
Merrin squares her jaw and passes the syringe to Vera. She holds her breath, then slips the slim needle into a bulging blue vein on the inside of Lia’s arm without hesitation.
I count one, two, three seconds after Vera depresses the plunger before a keening moan comes from Lia’s lips. She arches her back high in the air, and then she relaxes.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Is she okay?” Nora looks between me and Merrin like we’re doctors or something.
“Whoa,” Vera says, feeling her pulse again. “I think it’s evening out. I didn’t expect it to start activating so quickly.” Vera looks up at Nora. “I don’t know exactly what the outcome will be — there’s so much we don’t know — but you know her best. Does she seem to be improving?”
“Yesterday, she would have already ripped out of here by now. I think — I hope — it’s working.” Nora’s face has an expression I haven’t seen in a long time. Hope.
“If we get her to the med wing, they can sedate her. That should keep her from going anywhe
re and let you get some sleep.”
Fat tears roll down Nora’s cheek.
Vera reaches out and touches her arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you’re tired, but you can rest now. You can. It’s okay.”
Leni and Daniel tell us they’re going to rest, but Vera insists they go to the med wing first. Insists on it for all of us, actually. None of us are broken, but we’re all beaten up pretty badly.
Merrin’s got a slice down the outside of her forearm from the glass door, and I have a scrape on my cheek. I rub my index finger across it, trying to assess whether it’s bad enough to leave a scar. I decide I don’t really mind much if it does.
From the hungry way Merrin’s looking at me, I don’t think she does either.
There’s something else behind her eyes, something lingering and deep and huge that engulfs any other feelings she could be showing me right now. I don’t know if it’s emptiness or despair or just sadness, but when she turns to look at Vera, I know she wants answers. And I do, too.
“You’re wondering about the Cure, whether it’s permanent,” Vera says. Merrin nods. “I’m going to try to come up with a reversal. An antidote. I’m not going to rest until I do.”
A sob rips through Merrin’s consciousness. “Thank you,” she chokes out.
I want to fold her into my arms, but there will be time for that later. As it is, Merrin’s body shakes, enough for me to feel it against my palm. I don’t need to tune in to know what she’s feeling.
“Vera,” I ask in as low a voice as possible. “Is there a bed we can get her to?”
Vera’s eye sweeps over Merrin and I, businesslike and stern. I smile slightly as I hear her decide that we’re not too badly wounded to skip the med wing for now. “Take her back to your room. Masters will be calling you soon, I imagine.”
“I need to take a shower,” Merrin says softly when we reach my room.
“Yeah, we both do.” I look down at her body, which looks even smaller now than it did yesterday. Her shoulders slump and her mouth turns down. That empty look behind her eyes has transferred to the rest of her. “You first.”
She nods, and her smile tells me she’s grateful. “Don’t leave the room, okay? Just…don’t leave.”
I smile. “I think we can both agree that it’s not really a great idea to leave without prepping the other one first.”
“You’re not mad? That I went on that mission without telling you?” I’m so sorry, she thinks.
I pull her into as tight of a hug as possible without feeling like I’m going to hurt her. “I’m only one thing right now: happy you’re okay.”
She’s in and out of the shower in a few minutes, and I do the same. She found a huge t-shirt in the closet and slipped into bed. I pull on pajama pants and a t-shirt and lay next to her, cradling her in my arms, pressing my nose to the top of her head like none of this crap ever happened.
After a few moments of breathing out and in, being still, being solid and together, I say, “I like the way your hair smells.”
She chuckles like she’s supposed to at the oldest inside joke we have, a tired hollow sound. Her eyes pan up to mine, and oh my God, I’m going to dissolve right here on the spot. She’s still Merrin, a whole world of mystery and longing and dreams living behind her eyes.
But when she speaks, anguish chokes her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I keep screwing this up and…I know you want this — us — to be the same as we were when we met, and so do I. But it won’t. It can’t — not ever again. Not now.”
I pull her head to my chest, stroke her hair, murmur, “Of course it will. I’m still me, and you’re still you.”
“They took it from me.” Real tears start rolling down, and the sob rips out of her mouth, like an old ugly Band-Aid she’s finally getting the guts to pull off. “They took the only thing I ever had. They took the only thing that made me special, the only thing that made me me. The only thing that made us us.”
I clasp her tight to me, hoping her head against my heart will stop it from feeling like it’s hemorrhaging. “Oh, Mer. Oh,” I say, once her sobs have stopped. “I love you for so many reasons. And not a single one of them has to do with you floating around like a ghost.”
She gives a slight, one-sided smile in response. I feel it so deeply it just might tear me up, too — she doesn’t believe me.
But I believe every word. And I believe she loves me, too. And my belief, for tonight, is going to have to be enough for the both of us.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Three days later, we’ve been briefed and reprimanded. I’ve been assigned to desk work, but Masters is keeping a close eye on me. He said he’d be “remiss if he let my operational planning techniques go unnoticed,” so I think I’ll be back in mission control in no time.
Nora and Lia are doing fine, if also pissed as hell. I bite my tongue and tell myself I’ll only lecture them on how they can’t get revenge on a dead man until after they get better. Nora slept for 48 hours and is still shaking off the exhaustion, and Lia is… Well, Lia’s depressed. When we told her she might not have any of her Supers anymore, she just put her head back and stared in the other direction.
“What happens to one of us does not have to happen to both of us.” She stared at Norah for a second, then went quiet.At least she didn’t try to kill us. The last time Lia did that to someone, it wasn’t pretty.
Hayley “Haylstorm” Ortiz lost an arm but gained a rank. It’s partly honorary, stemming from pure awe on Masters’ part. When we visit her in the med wing, she even smiles at me with a spark in her eye.
“These days, I can probably get one that was better than the original. And, hey! If it’s metal, maybe I can use it as a lightning rod!”
I laugh, and Merrin does too and hugs her. She’ll be okay. And we owe her so much.
Gallagher, like me, is at a desk job, but it’s just for two weeks — checking people in at the testing arena. It’s like the most horrible punishment you could do to the guy, make him watch all the fun that he’s dying to participate in. But I really think he doesn’t mind that much because Vera’s lab is in direct view of the intake desk. For three days, she’s been in there pretty much nonstop — barely sleeping, barely eating.
The morning after we left the Biotech Hub for good, Merrin headed straight over and draped her tired body into the chair for Vera to start drawing her blood. This morning, she went back for the third, long day in a row, except today she’s actually assisting at a microscope.
Her head bends forward, and it looks so heavy I just want to help her hold it up. She murmurs, “Don’t tell me you have something engineered already, Vera.”
“Merrin,” Vera scolds, peering into a microscope, “You do know why I’m so bored here, don’t you? Science-geek plus seeing-things-on-a-molecular-level means this stuff is a snap for me. It’s really too bad they blew up Biotech. I probably would have fit in really well there. I actually love that this challenge took me three whole days.”
Merrin’s exhausted voice rasps from where she stands at the lab bench. “And too bad all those Biotech people were evil.”
“Not all of them.” Even though I haven’t heard a word about them, not even a mobilecomm, I have to believe my parents really were doing the right thing: trying to find my sisters.
Vera clears her throat. “From what I can see, the original plan was that the Cure would work so slowly that people would barely realize it because it would take time to adapt to their specific genetics. It could be that the first component actually has been inside Supers-concentrated areas for years. Slowly released into the water supply. And then they’d add the second component to activate it. The shot they gave you…it worked the other way around. Quickly, but hopefully…” She holds up a syringe full of glowing blue stuff. “…less strongly. Less completely, if that makes sense.”
Merrin nods. “So it’s only a surface effect? Maybe?” I hear the hope in her voice, feel her thinking, Maybe it’ll wear off.
“Unfortun
ately not. Not surface — partial. Which means some of the components of your genetics will never be regenerated.”
“Great. So instead of being a One, now I’m a Half.” Merrin tries to smile, but it’s not working.
“But I’ve engineered this reversal formula using Merrin’s genetics.” Vera taps the syringe. “So it should do the work of restoring those extra genes to functionality faster than they would if it were a general antidote. We’ll do the injection directly into the bloodstream; it should adhere to the damaged cells and get to work quicker. I followed every step the Hub took to get the Cure in reverse, so I’m almost certain this will work. If it doesn’t, we’ll try again.”
“So what’s going to happen to her if it works?” I ask. “She gets her One back?”
I would kill for her to have her One back. I would kill for it to be just her and me, zooming above the fields or the ocean or the goddamn Grand Canyon again. Not worried about anything. Nothing in the world.
“Well, Merrin and I actually theorized about retroactive restoration before all this happened. Daniel helped me cross-check the formulas, and he thinks it’ll work.”
“What is that?” I ask, squeezing Merrin’s hand.
Daniel comes out of a door in the back of the lab, places some test tubes in holders, and slides a chair on the other side of Merrin’s seat. “It’s like doing a system restore on a computer. Except it would just reknit her genes, essentially, to the most advanced mutated form.”
Leni smiles and slips in to the seat next to Daniel. “I’m just glad you were paying attention in orgo.”
I squeeze Merrin’s fingers and look at her. “What does that mean?” I lean in and whisper in her ear.
“It means that the most Supers I ever had at once — like when we went Supersonic — well, my genes could revert back to that. Permanently.” She grins, and the hopefulness rolling off of her makes my heart hurt.
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