“You stupid brat,” he spat, his eyes darting around. “I almost wouldn’t have recognized you. What have you done with the computer in here? Who were you talking to? Where is my daughter?”
My mouth trembled, but I met his gaze. “Put him down and I’ll tell you.” My hands were sweaty, and I took a moment to slowly wipe them on my hips, pausing when I felt a hard lump in one of the pockets. It was the pulse shield, the one I had taken off of Plain Face.
His dual-colored eyes narrowed, giving me a long, considering look. “This is a trap, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes darting around again. “But not by them. By someone else.” His eyes shot back over to me, and I froze.
He knew that someone on the council was trying to kill him, and he had correctly assumed that I was a part of it, which made him even more dangerous and unpredictable. I had to convince him that wasn’t the case. As long as he held Grey and that baton… he’d kill him.
“It’s not,” I said. “I swear. We just came to get Maddox.”
“Is that her name?” he said, his voice hushed. I watched him look away, toward the door, and I shoved my hand into my pocket, withdrawing the pulse shield and clutching it in the palm of my hand. “You took her from me,” he announced, and I froze, holding the weapon tightly. I chanced a glance up and saw him staring down at me, his face frozen in a mask of rage. “It’s only fitting I should take something from you.”
My eyes widened, his sudden change in demeanor too fast to anticipate, and then he drove the baton down into the back of Grey’s neck. I heard it click, even as my mouth opened to shout “No!” and then Grey’s eyes snapped open, and he began to scream.
32
The sound of Grey’s agonized cry was loud and painful enough that I cringed, resisting the urge to clap my hands over my ears and shrivel away. Instead, I looked down and shoved my fingers through the slots of the pulse shield, palming the hard metal device. I held it up and fired it through a haze of tears. As soon as I stroked my thumb over the trigger, my arm shot backwards, so hard that my elbow and shoulder immediately went numb with an icy wash of pain.
I ignored it. Just like I ignored my back and head and chin, focusing only on somehow forcing my knees and legs to hold me. I climbed up, numbly looking around, my hand shaking slightly. I became aware of my breathing—harsh and guttural—and I wiped the tears from my eyes.
The force of the pulse shield in the confined space had shattered several of the special panels on the wall. They must’ve been filled with some sort of powder, because now the room was blanketed in a white haze. As I inhaled shakily, I realized it was drying out my mouth and lungs, leaving a slight burn in the aftermath.
I moved forward, my stiff legs dragging on the ground as I searched the mist and debris for Grey. As I stepped forward, the ball of my foot didn’t quite connect with the ground but slipped on something long, hard, and round, and I dipped over—agonizingly slowly—to pick up a baton, curling my fingers around the familiar feel of the handle.
I closed my eyes, fighting the wave of dizziness that accompanied me as I stood back up, and then focused on finding Grey. He was hurt. I had to find him, had to get him away from—
I froze when some of the white mist settled in front of me, revealing Devon. He was down on the ground again, his eyes closed. The wall behind him flickered where he had hit it and damaged the lighting unit. Blood dripped from a cut on his head, pooling around his eye before dripping off his nose. I found myself hoping he was dead as I stared at him, and then shuffled around, ignoring the aches in my side.
I moved a few feet away, swinging the baton in front of me, trying to clear the mist, and found Grey slumped against the wall, looking blankly forward at the floor. His brown eyes moved up to me when I dropped to my knees in front of him, and I reached for his face.
He didn’t react when I placed my hands on the sides of his head. He just stared up at me.
“Grey?” I whispered softly.
He blinked, his brown eyes flat and empty, and then looked away—up and around, and then back down again, staring at his hands.
I watched, unable to comprehend his behavior. “Grey?” I repeated. He looked back up at me. Again, there was nothing. No sign of anything behind his eyes. Just a hollow emptiness.
I shook my head; I was being ridiculous. His eyes were open. He was fine. “You’re fine,” I said, unable to keep my internal thoughts internal. He watched me as I began to smooth his clothes, straightening them. “You’re fine,” I repeated. “You are—Devon only did it for a moment, just a moment. Your eyes are open, and you’re… you’re fine.”
He remained mute, his eyes watching, vacant, and empty. Void. No hint of any emotion or thought. Not even a flicker of recognition. I felt my hands begin to shake, and snatched them back away from him, fear so thick in my throat I felt like it was choking me.
“Grey?” I said, my voice cracking.
Nothing. Not even the slightest sign of interest. I felt tears begin to form as I continued to shake my head, trying to deny the reality in front of me. I reached out on impulse and grabbed the front of his uniform.
“Grey!” I shouted, giving him a little shake.
His arms didn’t come up to stop me. His eyes didn’t show fear or alarm. There was… no one there.
“GREY!” I screamed, the thought so terrifying I couldn’t possibly accept it. My hand darted out, slapping him hard enough on the cheek to leave an outline on the side of his jaw. His head lolled to one side. Then around and back up, his deep brown eyes watching me, non-reactive to the fact that I had hurt him.
My hands flew to my mouth to cover my sob, and I crawled closer to him. This couldn’t be happening—it couldn’t. He was awake, alive. He was there, he was… he was just stunned. I hadn’t failed him. I hadn’t.
“Liana.” I became aware of Leo’s voice and looked around, surprised to see the mist dissipating. “I’m venting the room. Is Grey okay?”
I looked at Grey, my mind still unable to comprehend his position. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice roughened. “He’s not responding to me. It’s like he doesn’t even know my face. Oh my God, Leo… Why doesn’t he know my face?”
“Devon hurt him, badly. I can tell you how bad it is, but you need to get him to the wall unit.”
I looked around the room for the wall unit, and found it a few feet away. The examination slab sat three feet off the floor. I looked at the distance, and the height, and then back to Grey, considering. I wasn’t strong enough.
I needed to use my lashes to get him there. The gear in the back was strong enough to pull both our weights up, so it could handle him. I just needed a place to run the line so I could hoist him up. I scanned the ceiling and spotted a hook over the examination slab, likely there for this exact reason—to help lift an unconscious patient onto the table.
I grabbed a bead and pulled, unraveling several handfuls of the line. I quickly adjusted Grey so that his back was to the examination table, and threaded the lash bead through the metal eyelet on the back of his uniform, tying it into a knot. I was halfway through when a sound behind the door caused me to jump.
“What is that?” I demanded.
“Reinforcements. We don’t have a lot of time.”
I strode across the room, letting out the lash line as I went. The thumping continued, and I picked up the pace, hopping onto the examination slab and standing right on it. I rose to my tiptoes and used a long length of line doubled over so that I could slip it over the hook. It worked, and a moment later, I was down on the floor, slowly reeling the line in and dragging Grey’s still body across the floor. I hoisted him up, even though the lack of any response to what I was doing to him was nauseating me, and stopped when he was partially over the slab.
I stepped closer, reeling in the slack I created by doing so, and pushed him over the slab, lowering him back down. As soon as he was down, I untied the knot and retracted the line, standing back.
The wall unit flared up, a part o
f it flickering as it began to run a scan. I took a step back, my hands wringing nervously as I waited for the screen to appear on the flat white surface just over him.
An image of a brain popped into view as the purple-and-blue lights from the scanner swept over and around his skull. Grey stared blindly ahead, his eyes not twitching as it happened, seemingly oblivious to all of it.
“His net overloaded,” Leo said, his voice appalled, and I clamped my teeth together as the image rotated, giving me a top view. I could see the net laced over his brain, the tendrils forming an interlocking network that resembled a spider web. The area around the net tendrils in Grey’s cortex were scorched black, the synaptic response in the area minimal.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, my baton dropping from nerveless fingers with a sharp clatter. I looked down at Grey. It wasn’t possible—someone like him just couldn’t be gone. He was compassionate, kind, and so self-assured, to the point that it made him cocky, but it was so… him. He’d given me reason to hope, introduced me to people who didn’t make me feel quite so alone, and… he cared about me.
“He’s braindead, Liana,” Leo said softly. As if I didn’t get it. As if I couldn’t see the damage done by Devon.
The sound of glass scraping behind me caused me to whirl, and I saw Devon starting to move. The Champion groaned, and I felt something terrible and angry rise up and seize my heart, clenching it tightly. It held me up over the despair that I had once again failed someone I was trying to protect, replacing it with something more primal: the urge to eliminate a proven threat now and forever. The despair would wait, but this rage would not, and I knew that only one of us was going to leave this room alive. He’d now stolen away three people I cared about.
I was bending over to pick up my baton, and my fingers had just closed around it when Leo’s voice—tinged with urgency—brought me up short, giving pause to the deadly calm that had gripped me.
“Liana, where is that net you brought me here with?”
I looked at the wall unit, surprised to see Grey flipped over, the automatic tools already making an incision on the back of his neck. “What are you doing?” I gasped, my heartbeat accelerating even higher. “Stop that!” He was doing something—something that would hurt Grey, make it worse, maybe even kill him. I reached out with a hand, intent on stopping it manually, when something came down in front of my fingers. I yanked them back just in time to keep from connecting with the static screen Leo had just manifested. It wouldn’t hurt, but I’d lose all feeling for an hour or so if I touched it.
“Leo!”
“I am trying to help him, Liana! Now where is that net?” Leo said desperately, and I checked over my shoulder. Devon was now on his hands and knees, his breath coming in hard pants. He was hurt, and not quite to his feet, but he would be soon. I didn’t have time to find out what Leo was doing for Grey—I had to just trust him.
“Grey’s pocket,” I informed him, knowing that the tools in the wall unit could retrieve it, and turned around to face Devon, my priorities tumbling down. I was going to keep Grey safe while Leo did… whatever he did.
And I had to kill Devon. I had to if I wanted to keep everyone safe. I didn’t care about this war or anything else… but he was a monster.
He got one foot up, panting, and turned his head toward me. Half his face was now covered in blood from the cut on his forehead, and as I watched, he swiped his fingers over his eyes, smearing the blood aside so he could view me more clearly.
I tightened my grip on the baton, watching him. He made as if to move to his feet, and then we both froze as the door leading to the service-way jumped open an inch, coming to a grinding halt. I heard excited shouts through the door, and turned back to Devon, who was now grinning at me.
“Give up,” he said, leaning over to spit blood out of his mouth. “They’re going to get in. If you turn yourself in, I promise I’ll spare your family.”
Adrenaline surged through me, and a tingle that had started to gather at the base of my spine suddenly shot through my arms, making them quiver with unspent energy, giving me the feeling that I could do anything. If this had been a fairy tale, I probably would’ve been able to throw fire from my fingertips. But it wasn’t, and the only thing driving me was pure, unadulterated rage.
I was going to make him pay for what he’d done. “I’d be more worried about how long you’ll be stuck in here with me before they get to you,” I growled.
Devon seemed not to notice. He leaned to one side, looking around me at Grey. “Who’s helping you? Is it a sentient or just another dummy replicate program?” I kept my mouth shut, and he shrugged, nonplused by my lack of response. “It makes no difference,” he said congenially. “I’ll find out soon enough. I’ll dig whatever it is out and rip it to shreds.”
He laughed, the backs of his fingers dusting off his shoulder, and then suddenly he launched himself at me, a guttural cry erupting from his throat. I had been waiting for him to move, and, pivoting on my left heel, I spun around. I brought the baton down, my finger on the charge, striking him in the thigh. Or at least, what should’ve been the thigh—but he had used his lashes to alter his direction midair, jerking violently to one side and missing my baton.
I looked up, watching as he hit the wall feet first, his arm already extended toward me, lash bead flying. Instinctually, I swept my baton up and around, and it connected with the lash bead, knocking it aside. I dropped the baton into my left hand and pulled up my right, using my thumb to hit the pulse shield even as Devon swan-dove through the air at me, his face contorted in rage.
The pulse missed, though, and he hit me, his weight dragging me to the ground. I landed hard with him on top of me, but within seconds he was upright, his hands wrapped around my throat.
I gasped, my hands snapping up to grab his wrists as he began to squeeze. A white haze started to form across my vision as all of the blood became trapped inside my head, making me lightheaded. I fought it, trying to get my feet under my knees so I could lift him off of me, try to dislodge him. But he was straddling me, his weight pinning my legs down.
I tried to inhale, but the grip was too tight and my throat felt like it was caught in a vacuum, unable to retain any oxygen. I could hear my heartbeat starting to slow in my ears, and looked up to see a wild and savage grin on Devon’s face. He was taking pleasure in my death, and it scared me. Even as I slipped further and further down into unconsciousness, I realized that his face would be the last thing I would see.
On the heels of that, I realized that I had failed. Devon was going to win, and even though I wanted nothing more than to stop it, I had lost. I was dying.
My eyes shuttered closed, not willing to let Devon be the final thing I saw before I died, and I conjured up an image of Grey and me, one of his strong hands on my waist, the other cupping my head as he drew his lips down toward mine.
Then air.
Sweet, clean, crisp, beautiful air rushing into my lungs, while the blood drained rapidly from my head, leaving me dizzy and disoriented in its wake. I rolled over to my side, instinctively curling my legs to my chest, and heard the sound of fighting somewhere behind me. I crawled away from it, a fresh surge of adrenaline giving my limbs mobility, before turning.
Grey was up, his back to me, holding Devon up by the throat with one hand. Devon’s hands grabbed at Grey’s wrist, clawing him, while his legs kicked out, trying to gain purchase. But Grey simply stood there, holding him up with one hand as if his struggles didn’t affect him one bit. Devon’s face grew redder and redder, swelling up until it looked just like a tomato.
Then Grey flexed his forearm, and Devon went still—after a stomach-wrenching snap.
I watched as Grey dropped Devon’s body. Body, because Devon was most certainly dead. Then he turned toward where I was still cowering on the floor. I looked away, terrified that even after seeing him move, kill Devon, defend me, I’d be looking into the eyes of a stranger all over again.
I heard him move closer, the
debris on the floor shifting. “Liana?” he said softly, and his hands came into view, reaching for me.
And then I threw myself into them, holding him close. “Is it you? How did Leo…”
Grey had stiffened under my impromptu embrace, and I trailed off, surprised that he wasn’t hugging me. I pulled back, looking over him, making sure he hadn’t been injured, and then dragged my eyes back up to his face to find him wearing an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry, Liana,” he said sadly, meeting my eyes, and I felt my shock grow as I stared at the glowing blue and white light that seemed to emanate from the depths of his irises. “I’m doing all I can to help Grey, but it will take some time before I can repair the—”
“Leo?” I gasped, my hands coming up to grab Grey’s shoulders, peering even more closely into his eyes. “Oh my God, is that you?”
Grey cocked his head, and then nodded. “It is.”
33
I could only stare at Grey, unable to fully understand what was happening. The door hissed again, and Grey looked over first. I followed his gaze, only because I wasn’t exactly sure what else I should be doing, and saw that the gap was now wide enough to fit an arm through.
In fact, someone was doing it right now—and as I watched them uncurl their fingers, I realized we were in the path of the blast. I started to react, but Grey was already doing it, racing forward and snapping a foot out, effortlessly breaking their arm with cold practicality before they could even shoot.
The arm quickly retreated with an agonized scream, and Grey moved over to me, dragging me out of the path of the door.
“I left an automated program in the computer,” he whispered as he knelt down next to Devon’s body, unzipping his uniform to get to the lash harness underneath, and detaching it. “We have another thirty seconds before they get that door fully open. And five seconds after that, the power will go down for fifteen seconds. I want you to keep your head down, okay?”
The Girl Who Dared to Stand Page 31