Deception

by Teri Terry

  Freja reaches me first, pulls me to my feet. She’s saying something, but I can’t hear her; she’s trying to pull me away, back from the burning house.

  There’s a roar in the air. The plane that did this has circled and is coming back again.

  The girl stands and stares at it in the sky.

  The plane abruptly twists and plummets toward the earth on the other side of the house. Did she do that?

  Where it hits, another explosion rivals the first.

  The one that landed on Shay.

  I shield my eyes, look up at the destruction.

  Flames are growing, and I imagine Shay is standing there in their midst, swaying on her feet, walking toward us.

  But then I hear the gasps of Freja and the others.

  Something—someone?—is moving. A girl on fire walks through the inferno; she is a dark core enveloped in overwhelming brightness.

  It is Shay, it must be, but not Shay too: a girl, but something much more at the same time. Girl and goddess? The light and waves of power that should have destroyed her are absorbed, blocked. A dark shimmer inside the light surrounds her, and then—for a fraction of a second only—it seems to have movement and life of its own, one that something inside me recognizes and answers to.

  But then the dark shimmer lightens and starts to disintegrate.

  CHAPTER 23

  JENNA

  I’M SORRY, SHAY. I TRIED. I tried as hard as I could.

  Pain…

  Burning…

  Tearing…

  Peace.

  CHAPTER 24

  SHAY

  CALLIE/JENNA WAS HOLDING ME in a cool knot, but the knot is unraveling…

  Undoing…

  I run from the flames behind us.

  Callie? Callie? Then, Jenna? I call her name again and again, but she doesn’t answer.

  She saved me, but she’s not here.

  She’s not anywhere.

  Somehow what happened has destroyed her; she knew it would, but she stayed with me anyway.

  And now she’s gone.

  I want to fall to the ground, to rage, to scream—to grieve yet another loss—but then I look up and Kai is still there. Some part of me registers I have to move, to get away from heat still too intense and close behind me, and somehow I take a step, and another, and another, my eyes fixed on Kai, and my steps get faster until I’m running.

  I stop when I get close: something is wrong. I see now that Beatriz and Elena are here too. A tall girl with bright hair is next to them—one I don’t know. And the four of them are staring at me, a mixture of wonder and fear on their faces. Chamberlain squirms in my arms and I bend to put him down.

  Alex stands off to the side. Could he really be Dr. 1, like Callie—Jenna—said?

  I’ll deal with him later.

  I focus on Kai. His face is white, and there’s a trickle of blood on the side of his head—has he been hurt, was he too close to that explosion?

  I step toward Kai; he steps toward me. He is hesitant; there is confusion and fear in his eyes, and it tears into me inside to see it.

  “Shay? Is it really you?” he whispers.

  He reaches out his hands—they’re shaking. I hold out mine and he takes them, slowly, carefully, like he’s not sure what they are, but they’re still my flesh and blood, and the touch seems to reassure him.

  Or are they? Is this really happening? Maybe I died and I’m dreaming. If I did and death holds dreams of Kai, it’s not such a bad thing.

  Then all at once he pulls me to him. His arms wrap around me and hold me so tight that the feel of his body makes this finally real, makes him real.

  I didn’t die; I’m not dreaming: Kai is really here.

  He’s completely freaked out by what he saw, hurt, but he’s holding me like he’ll never let go. His aura may be confusion and fear, but it is also wonder, joy, and love.

  CHAPTER 25

  KAI

  SHAY’S ALIVE. I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW, but she’s alive. I pull away from her a little to look at her again, to make sure it’s truly her, living and breathing and all in one piece. And she’s not the girl-goddess I saw before, enveloped in flame. It is only Shay, but I know she is so much more. Can I ever see her as I did before, without always knowing this? I can’t unsee what just happened. She is bewildered, sad; scared too—of me?—no, that isn’t it, not exactly. Emotions flit across her face so fast I can’t follow.

  But then I notice something else: there’s dried blood on her arms, her neck, in her hair, and I’m running my hands over her, trying to find where she’s hurt, but there are just some scratches, not enough for so much blood.

  She shakes her head. “It’s not mine,” she says, and I know what she said, but I still can’t hear the words out loud—my ears aren’t right. From the blast? Then tears are spilling out of her eyes, and I draw her close again.

  How did Shay survive? A bomb exploded where she stood; she was enveloped in fire. I saw her step through it and thought I was dreaming, imagining—and here she is.

  Her mind touches mine lightly, and I don’t pull away. I can feel she is doing what I did to her—checking to see if I’m hurt—but instead of running hands over my body, she’s feeling inside me. And then all at once there’s a warm rush on my head where I hit it when I fell, and in my ears; then the rustling, whistling noise is gone, and I can hear again.

  Others are walking closer now too—the small girl who told me where Shay was is touching her as if she needed to do that as much as I did to know Shay is still alive.

  Freja is here also, eyes wide. “Where’s Callie?” she says.

  Shay looks up from my chest and shakes her head. “She saved me,” she whispers. “She saved me, and now she’s gone.”

  Shay is crying again, not making sense, saying things I don’t understand about Callie not being Callie. How can she be gone? And she’s asking about the other men, the ones who were fighting the soldiers.

  “They came with Alex,” the girl says. “He brought them to save us. He wasn’t here before because he went to get them.”

  Speaking of the devil, Alex comes up to us now. As he steps closer, Shay pulls away from me a little, straightens and meets his eye.

  “How did you survive that blast?” Alex says. “There was something around you, shielding you. What was it?”

  “It was Callie. She saved me. Or should I say…Jenna?”

  “Ah. I wondered if she’d tell you,” Alex says, and I’m looking between them, confused. Who’s Jenna?

  “Where is she now?” Alex asks.

  “Nowhere,” Shay says, and almost chokes on the word. “She saved me, and she’s gone. The blast destroyed her.”

  And now that she’s said it again and the words are taking shape inside me, I start to believe them. Callie. My sister. Is she really gone this time?

  “Interesting,” Alex says.

  Interesting? My hands are fists and I would launch myself at him, flatten him, but for Shay’s soft touch on my mind—asking me not to, not now, and I can’t refuse her anything after what she’s been through. Even that.

  “Where were you when the soldiers came, Alex?” Shay says.

  “A miscalculation. I knew we were at risk; I was arranging a safer place to move all of us. SAR got here much sooner than I thought they could.”

  “Someone was blocking us, and Spike died. Do you know anything about that?”

  “SAR had a survivor working for them; he’s dead now.”

  Shay stares back at Alex, then finally nods. “We’ve got some things to talk about.”

  “Yes. We have. But for now, I suggest we get as far away from here as we can. Some of the soldiers from SAR escaped, including Kirkland-Smith. More soldiers or another bomber may soon follow. We’re parked about half a dozen miles from here; we need to get there as fa
st as we can and put some distance between us and this place.”

  There is something going on here, something more between Shay and Alex that is unsaid—or said silently—that I don’t understand.

  But Shay nods. “Yes. Let’s go. But I’m not going anywhere until”—she swallows—“we take care of Spike.” And there is such pain on her face as she says it that even as part of me reaches to hold her, to comfort her, another part demands to know—Spike? Who is Spike?

  My friend, she whispers inside me. He was my friend.

  CHAPTER 26

  SHAY

  WITH SO MANY HANDS TO HELP DIG SPIKE’S GRAVE, from this crowd of about twenty still living that Alex has brought along to save us, it doesn’t take long. I ask Alex, what about the other bodies? Their own dead and the soldiers? But he says there’s no time, and that their group—whoever they are—doesn’t believe any part of the person remains once the spirit has left. They’re just doing this one grave for me.

  They place Spike’s body inside. His face, untouched, seems strangely peaceful now; it’s his back and chest that are a mess of blood.

  I stand there, Beatriz and Elena by my side. Heads bowed. A minute of silence; that is all Alex said we could have.

  Spike would still be alive if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t got all squeamish about attacking those two soldiers, many more of them would be too; we could have gotten away before this battle was even needed.

  It’s my fault. All of this; my fault.

  The first handful of dirt is mine. Shovelfuls follow, and soon Spike is gone from my eyes forever. Gone to the earth.

  * * *

  Then we run.

  The sheer speed and physical need to fill my lungs and throw one foot down on the ground after another, again and again, numb the pain, but can never erase it.

  CHAPTER 27

  KAI

  FREJA’S MIND TOUCHES MINE lightly as we run.

  What the hell is going on? she says.

  I’ve got no idea.

  Could Shay be right—has Callie been destroyed?

  She was already dead, already a ghost. How can you destroy a ghost?

  But if she wasn’t destroyed like Shay said…then where is she?

  To that I have no answer.

  I’m shaking inside, like I’ve lost Callie all over again. Right at the end, as Shay stood in the fire, I thought I could see something around her: was that my sister?

  Shay said something crazy about Callie being somebody else, a girl named Jenna who pretended to be Callie. But I don’t believe it. Callie always had the craziest imagination, and she often pretended to be her imaginary friends or characters in stories when she was little. Maybe everything that has happened to her pushed her back to that time.

  But does that mean…that Callie is really gone? She saved Shay, and now she’s gone? I choke on the pain, one I can’t face; not now.

  I watch Shay run at my side. All this seems unreal, impossible—but nothing would have sounded real or possible about how Shay survived if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

  I never got to say goodbye to Callie—again. The pain of that is an agony, but it rests easier than it did before. Maybe now, after everything Callie’s been through, she’s finally at peace.

  We run on. Everyone seemed to accept without comment that we should do as Alex said; for now at least. Given dead soldiers and potential bombers and the fact that Kirkland-Smith and some others got away, getting as far from there as fast and with as many people who can fight as possible seemed sensible.

  Yet…this is Alex. Not somebody I want to follow anywhere.

  Why? Freja says, reading my thought. Tell me some more about this guy.

  You know he was my stepfather—Callie’s dad. In so many ways, I hated him. I give her a quick summary—his manipulations, the way he treated us, my suspicion he was involved in Callie’s disappearance. Though that seems less likely now: even he wouldn’t have given his daughter over to be experimented on in Shetland, would he?

  And he saved Shay from the trap, and again today; this I also know.

  Do you think he can be trusted? Freja asks.

  I give the mental equivalent of a snort. I never will. But I will give him a teeny, tiny benefit of the doubt, just for now—for the first time ever. To really know, though, we need to know more about what is going on here. Who are these people with Alex? He said he brought them to rescue everyone, but from where?

  They haven’t said much so far, but then there hasn’t been much time for chitchat. Yet there is something about them that seems slightly…odd. It’s hard to focus on just what that may be.

  They do what Alex says without question. They seem to have been good at killing people—they won against the soldiers—but at the same time don’t seem the type. I mean, they don’t look like my idea of mercenaries, or soldiers, or anything like that; they don’t look as though they’d get off on violence for its own sake. In another context I’d think they were Alex’s professor friends at the university. But with more muscles and guns.

  Has Shay told you what’s been going on?

  I glance at Shay again, still running by my other side. She seems remote, closed off. What has she been through?

  Today—the bomb—she and that cat walked out of an inferno. The cat that I now realize one of Alex’s followers is bringing along. It’s being held tightly and looks really pissed off about it.

  And Shay? Pale, slight—physically she doesn’t look strong enough to keep up this pace much longer, yet I know she has reserves—and abilities—I can’t begin to understand.

  What has she become?

  Ask her, Freja says, and I’m startled when I realize that she’d been listening to my thoughts still, that I’d forgotten to block them off. I do so now.

  Shay? I try to project to her silently. She glances up at me, eyes wide, and her pace falters for a second, then rights itself.

  Kai. She says my name inside, the touch of her mind that is her and only her, the same way that her hand in mine, her lips on mine, are her and only her.

  Tell me. Tell me everything.

  CHAPTER 28

  SHAY

  I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO START or what to say. So much has happened that it feels like a million years since Kai and I have been together—I feel remote, changed; and also completely drained and charged up, both at the same time. And now I’m remembering how freaked Kai had been when I killed that soldier who was going to shoot us in Killin. What would he think of what I’ve done to more—so many more—today?

  He’d be repelled, repulsed. I am.

  Then Alex projects: We’re nearly there. I tell Kai, a way to delay answering him.

  A moment later we’ve reached a barn. Inside it are a dozen cars, different makes and models.

  Alex is directing us to one of them.

  “Where are we going?” Kai asks.

  “Do you want to stay and wait for the army?” Alex says. “I’m sure they’re on the way.”

  “It’s a reasonable question,” I say to Alex. “Where are you taking us?”

  “I can give you the coordinates, if you like: it’s a remote airfield of ours in the Borders. A stepping-stone to our ultimate destination, but I won’t tell you about that just yet. Let’s get away from here to the airfield, then we’ll talk. You can leave then, if you want to—I’ll even give you a car or take you where you want to go. But for now let’s just get out of here.”

  I’m expecting Kai to protest, to argue against going with Alex, so I’m surprised when he nods.

  Kai and I get in the back of one of the cars as Alex directs, and Kai waves Freja over to sit in the front, but she shakes her head. She gets in another car with Alex instead.

  The back door opens again, and Chamberlain is deposited on my knee by one of Alex’s crowd; his hands are covered in scratches.

&
nbsp; Meow, meow, meeeeeeeow…! He’s indignant, fur ruffled.

  The man who put him in the back gets into the driver’s seat in front of me, and Chamberlain hisses.

  “Some cats just don’t know how lucky they are to be rescued. I’m Aristotle,” the man says, and starts the car.

  “Hi. I’m Shay, this is Kai, and the lucky cat is Chamberlain. Thank you for bringing him.” I’d refused to leave without him, but he’s a big cat. I could never have kept up that pace if I’d been carrying him.

  “No worries.”

  “How far is it to this airfield?” Kai asks.

  “Over a hundred miles; it’ll take hours on these minor roads. Get some sleep if you can.”

  “Then where do we fly to?” Kai says.

  “You’ll have to ask Xander.”

  “Xander?” I say.

  “You know, the tall, silver-haired guy who orders us around.” He grins, and I’m unsettled. They’ve just done some sort of SWAT team rescue where some of them have died—and a whole lot of the other side—and he seems completely unfazed by the whole thing.

  And they know Alex—who is Alexander, I remember now—as Xander?

  And Callie—I mean, Jenna—knew him as Dr. 1. Alex—Xander—Dr. 1: is he all three?

  “Who is this us, exactly, that he orders around?” Kai says.

  “You’ll have to ask Xander.”

  Kai and I exchange a glance. I try a few more variations on our questions, even using some gentle mental persuasion, but get nowhere.

  And I wonder: am I questioning Aristotle to avoid answering what Kai asked me earlier?

  Tell me everything, he said. Not an unreasonable demand in the circumstances. And there are so many things I want—need—to know too: everywhere he has been, what has happened with him, how he found us. And who is this Freja? I sensed a closeness between them.