by C. J. Felver
“It doesn’t sound crazy, Dad. It actually makes sense.”
I never questioned why my dad didn’t want me to come looking for him. And for some reason, I listened to him. But it’s time to stop letting the guilt of that choice eat away at me, because he’s here now.
We sit together, watching the sun begin to set. Neither of us force conversation. Since bringing him back, he doesn’t like to talk much, and I’m fine with just his company.
“Whatever happened to Reese and Joe? I would’ve thought they’d be involved in this AGAS business, too. You were all so close.”
My heart constricts. “No one knows where Joe is, Dad. He’s missing. But Reese is around. Lyza let her know what was going on earlier today, but we hadn’t really wanted to involve her if we didn’t need to.”
He nods, eyebrows scrunched together in thought. “Do you think AGAS has Joe?”
I sigh, feeling a little defeated. “I don’t know what to think,” I admit. “I didn’t see him while I was busting you and Lyza out—and I feel guilty for not checking the last few rooms. But Wren told me they never brought in a fire elemental. I’m worried about him.”
My dad wraps his arm around me, pulling me close. I rest my head against his shoulder, reveling in the comfort of my dad’s embrace.
Discomfort
In Zander’s dining room, everyone is scattered around the huge table, eating out of Styrofoam takeout boxes.
“Hey, Wren. I know you said Cleo should be getting her powers back soon, but do you think there’s any hope for Frank to, also?” Lyza has a hopeful look on her face as she waits for him to answer.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Wren says, quiet and careful. His eyes are solemn and filled with regret. He turns to my dad, addressing him next. “With you having been exposed to the serum for as long as you were, Frank, unfortunately I don’t think there’s any going back. I’m truly sorry you have been put through this, sir.”
My dad’s expression doesn’t fall like I expect it to. He already knew the answer to Lyza’s question. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve accepted my fate. If it comes down to being alive without my powers, I would choose that every day. Especially when my daughter’s safety is on the line.”
I take a long look at my dad, still worried about him. There are times I get a glimpse of how he was before AGAS took him—like right now—but in the last few days these moments are rare. He’s broken. I have him back, but he’ll never be the same. Even now, everything he went through lurks in his eyes. His mental state shifts so quickly these days. I don’t know what to make of it.
“I also owe you a thank you,” my dad continues, his eyes locking on Wren. “Thank you for helping my daughter when I couldn’t. Thank you for getting her out of that place of suffering and saving her from being condemned to the same fate I was.”
So many emotions swirl through me. Not that I didn’t think my dad was capable of thanking Wren, I just hadn’t expected it—or any of what he said. Wren looks just as shocked, nodding politely.
We eat with conversation here and there to iron out the details of our plan. Lyza and Wren will be going in first where Wren says he has a trusted informant—his words, not mine—who will be able to get him access to the surveillance room. From there, they should be able to plug in some sort of device to grant Zander remote access to the system. Zander and I will be riding in a utility van so he can haul his tech. The van has an added bonus of a roof hatch to make my job of scaling the freaking side of the building all the easier. Joy.
As I devour my quesadillas, all I can think about is what will be coming next. My nerves grow with the looming stress, crawling across my skin like insects. So much is riding on us getting this right tonight. Not just for the five of us in this room, but for elementals as a whole. If we screw this up, we’ll be facing the beginning of a mass cleansing. I don’t want the weight of that on my shoulders.
Later on, Lyza settles into our shared room, telling us all to wake her if something happens. Zander disappears down the hall, I’m guessing to his massive computer room. In need of some fresh air, I head outside, settle into the grass and run my fingers through it. The serenity of dusk blankets the yard, casting shadows. I lie on my back and stare into the sky, watching the stars begin to glitter in the fading light.
The weight of everything slips off my shoulders, even if it is only for this moment. It would be foolish of me to think this feeling will last, but right now, I’m going to do what I can not to think about that.
Time fades away as I meditate. This is like a salve to my soul, soothing the nerves still trying to claw their way through my skin. Eventually, they give up long enough for my mind to clear for a while.
I jolt upward at the sound of the back door sliding open. Wren walks through, sliding it closed behind him, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I pull my legs in, crossing them in front of me. He sits down beside me, his knee brushing against mine. The motion sends heat spreading through my limbs and my face, which I’m sure is a nice shade of red right now.
Why is my body reacting like this?
“All good,” I say. “I was just a little lost in space there.” My gaze meets his. I can’t pry myself away from the brown, swirling depths of his eyes.
Wren breaks our stare, shifting his gaze to the sky. “It’s quite a beautiful sight, I can’t blame you for getting lost in it,” he says.
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips as I look back up.
His comment from the other day floods my memory. “I like to know about the people I surround myself with.” Maybe it’s time to stop icing him out.
“The other day you asked me to tell you something about myself,” I say, hesitating, not sure how I feel about this. “Well, what do you want to know?” I suddenly feel super self-conscious. Why am I doing this? Ugh, the things I put myself through …
“Whatever you'd like to tell me. I, uh … I just want to know you better.”
His words give me a warm and fuzzy feeling, chasing away my nervousness. It’s been a while since anyone has wanted to get to know me. “Well …” Where do I start? “Um, let’s see … breakfast is probably my favorite meal of the day, but Lyza is better at cooking it than I am. Fruity candy is better than chocolate, unless it’s a refrigerated Twix bar. I watch way too many movies and read way too many books than what would be considered healthy—”
A boisterous laughter ruptures from his lips. His dimples are showing, and it sparks something in my chest. My breath hitches for a second, but I lock it down tight. What even are these feelings? And why am I feeling them?
“Wait,” he says as he recovers from his laughter, “slow down. I have questions. What do you like to eat for breakfast?”
I chuckle. “Nope. I’m not picking a favorite. You can’t make me.”
“Okay, what about this. Is there anything you don’t like to eat for breakfast?”
“Doughnuts. Way too much sugar.”
“Fair enough. What kinds of movies do you watch?”
I make a noise that brokers no argument. “Action all the way. Once in a while I enjoy a romance or some comedy, but action is my favorite.”
“I should’ve known. I’m willing to guess it’s the same for books?”
“Uh, so … I feel like book genres are harder to define. Let’s not get into that right now.”
“A conversation for another time, then?” he suggests. I nod. He doesn’t ask another question, and my insecurity has returned, so I wrap my arms around my legs, pulling them tight to my chest.
We sit there in silence. The stars glitter in the dark sky, but I can’t focus on them like I normally would. All I can think about is what he might tell me if I asked him to tell me about his life? Does he like to read? What types of movies does he like to watch?
Oh my gosh. Pull it together, Cleo.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Wren turns toward me, reaching for me like he did earlie
r. This time, when he tucks the fallen strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingers. The tips of his fingers tracing along my cheek to my jawline, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
I jerk my head away from him, uncomfortable with this situation. I only just realized I trust the guy. Having these feelings and reactions toward him is confusing enough without him touching me like that, even if it is pleasant. Even if I can't stop thinking about him.
“I’m sorry, Cleo. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Wren says. I believe him.
“Let’s just—”
“Hey!” An unexpected shout has us both jumping out of our skin. My heart hammers away in my chest.
I look up toward the porch to see Zander leaning through the half open door. How much of that did he just witness? Maybe I’m imagining things, but he looks a little smug. What a dick. “We’re ready to head out.”
Beside me, Wren runs his hand through his black hair, leaving it tousled. We both stand, and he motions for me to go ahead of him. I move past him as we enter the house and make our way into the living room.
Lyza is standing there holding up a familiar jacket.
When did she have time to go get that? I rush over to her and grab my modified hoodie. Both bladder pouches are still firmly in place, ready to fill.
“I forgot to show you when we got back with food,” she says, as I take it to the kitchen sink to fill. Even though I don’t have my powers back, it makes me feel better to have it—just in case. “I asked Zander to pick up a few things from the apartment while we were on the food run. I figured it would be useful for you tonight.”
“Yes, it definitely will be,” I say, shrugging into the garment. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I had it with me lately.”
Behind us, Zander starts passing out translucent earbuds. “Keep these on so we can all communicate with each other.”
“Are you sure you feel alright staying here alone?” I ask my dad as he appears in the hallway.
He nods at me. “As long as Zander doesn’t mind me being here, I’m fine with it. I’d only be a burden. My presence alone would put you all at risk.”
“Make yourself comfortable,” Zander replies to my dad, before turning to the rest of us. “Let’s load up.”
Zander’s garage is a little disorienting. The room in no way looks like it should be as massive as it is. He opens a gray metal box fixed to the wall—one I didn’t notice last time—and pulls out two sets of keys. He hands one set to Wren. “Please be careful with my car, man. If anything happens to it …” His fingers are still wrapped around the keys in Wren’s hand. He doesn’t need to finish. His head tilts to the side as his eyes finish it for him. Mess up my car and I’ll use you as a personal punching bag.
“No problem, I’ll be careful with it,” Wren says. Message received. Zander smacks a chaste kiss to Lyza’s lips, then Wren and Lyza both climb into the silver SUV, pulling out of the garage a moment later.
I follow Zander over to a white utility van and hop into the passenger seat. Behind me, the double doors open up and Zander crawls in. He begins fiddling with whatever instruments he has back there.
“I’ll only be a minute. I just have to check that everything’s in order before we go. Push the button on the back of your communicator and put it in your ear. It should be connected to the others already.”
Rotating the small device in my hand, I find the button and push it, then pop it into my ear. As soon as it’s in place, Lyza’s voice fills my ears.
“I just want to tell you, if you ever use my girl’s dad as bait again, you and I are going to have problems.”
Slapping my palm to my forehead, I stifle my groan so Lyza won’t hear it on her end.
“Well, I don’t plan on it, but I think I’d be more worried about dealing with Cleo than you in that scenario.” Wren pauses. “No offense.”
The doors at the back of the van close, and a moment later Zander slides into the driver’s seat and we exit the garage.
Silence reigns in the van for the first part of our trip. My nerves are through the roof, making me a jittery mess. No amount of mental pep talk is calming them, so I try to clear my mind instead.
“We’re pulling into the parking structure now,” Wren says over the comm.
“We’re about seven minutes out,” Zander replies.
“No worries,” Lyza says, “we know what to do. We’ll be ready when you get here.”
“That woman sure has a lot of confidence,” Zander tells me with a hint of pride in his voice. He’s not wrong.
“That she does.”
“You up for this?”
Nope, definitely not. “Yep, I got this.”
Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I need to do this. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I move to the back of the van. Here I find the tactical vest set aside for me and I strap it on. Patting it down, I confirm that it’s packed with everything I need.
Through the communicator, I can barely make out the sound of Wren and Lyza moving around. Hopefully, Wren’s informant is able to get them into the surveillance room. Otherwise this is about to get a whole lot harder.
As they move, there’s a voice in the background. Wren replies, then there’s silence again for a few moments.
Keeping my breathing even is becoming more difficult. Zander appears in my face, gripping my shoulders. He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t need to. His eyes convey everything. You can do this.
I close my eyes. My lungs fill as I deepen my breathing.
Once, twice, three times.
When I open my eyes again, Zander nods at me and releases my shoulders.
And now we wait. Lyza and Wren should be ready any—
“You’re on, Zander,” Lyza says. “I’m plugging in the device now.”
Like I said, any minute.
Zander moves to his computer and starts tapping away at the keyboard.
“The cameras should be redirected now. It will only take a moment more for me to get into the main system.” Zander taps a few more times on his keyboard. “We’re in.”
On his screen, the hallways of HSI Labs fill multiple windows, showing a few guards pacing here and there. He pulls a tablet from his bag on the floor. It looks like he has a building blueprint on his tablet. Waving me over, we both hunch over the image. “This will be the most direct route,” he says, finger tracing over the hallway before stopping on a room and zooming in on it. Room 414. The route we just covered is plan B, assuming I can’t make it back the way I came—through the window and down the side of the building to the van, which is currently parked on the curb of a dark alleyway, next to the old brick building. We should be just close enough for me to jump across from the roof to the window frame.
This is going to be fun.
Zander unlatches the emergency exit on the ceiling of the van and pushes it open. I step underneath the opening and prepare to climb through. Only, this van is pretty much the same height as a bus, and I’m short, so I can only reach my hands high enough to touch the ledge, not enough to climb out.
I let out a groan, dropping my hands to my sides. Zander chuckles but crosses back over to me from his computer. He crouches down and forms a stirrup with his hands, gesturing for me to step up. Placing my foot in his grasp, he hefts me upward.
Now I’m able to get my elbows under myself and I climb out. Zander closes the hatch behind me and I crouch low and look around. Luckily, the ledges are made of brick and not metal like they would be on a modern building. But the tops of the windows on the first three stories are curved, which is going to be a blast to climb.
It’s a wonder Aulder doesn’t have his AGAS guards patrolling the outside of his building yet. I would think after recent events, he would forgo his image and have an exterior patrol.
Not that I’m complaining. It works to our benefit.
I take one more steadying breath before coming halfway out of my crouch and springing toward the nearest window. My feet catch the sill and I
reach for the top of the frame for balance.
Whew. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Just don’t look down.
These windows seem to run from the floor to ceiling. The decorative lattice runs between the panes, but there’s a metal beam running cuts across near the center for me to grab onto.
Room 414. Since I’m wedged in a second story window, this means I have two stories to climb. Squinting into the darkness, I can make out a ledge between the windows that will help.
Why did I sign up for this?
One more deep breath solidifies my resolve as I resist the urge to look down. Have I mentioned I hate climbing?
Shuffling slowly to my right toward the edge of the window, I pull myself up from the pane, holding on to the brick. Taking it one step at a time, making sure my holds are secure, I inch my way up the side of the warehouse. Thankfully, the comms have been silent—not breaking my concentration—otherwise, I doubt I would’ve made it.
Don’t look down.
Pulling myself up to the next ledge, the windows change. They’re no longer rounded at the top, but narrow and squared with no lattice.
Perched beside the fourth story window, I search the pockets of my vest with one shaky hand. In one of these pockets there should be a porcelain stick that will shatter the window so I can climb in.
“Zander, are the alarms disabled?” I ask in a hushed voice after locating the stick.
“Yes, as long as Wren and Lyza’s distraction goes as planned, no one should be alerted by the window,” Zander says.
“We’re in position. Wait for my signal,” Wren whispers.
Silence resumes as I wait, clinging to the wall. My palms start to sweat. My gaze slowly drifts toward the ground. Oh no, why did I do that? My stomach lurches, my whole body trembling as I fight to regain my fragile composure.
Shouts pierce my ear, the sound so startling that I jump.
Shit.
Time seems to move without measure as I slip from my position. My arms flail. I slam my mouth shut to prevent the scream from escaping. Digging my fingers into the wall, I pray they find purchase.