by Stacey Nash
“Mae has it,” Jax says.
My arm burns with his vicelike grip. “I have what? Put me down!” I squirm against him. “What are you doing?”
I crane my neck, trying to get a clear view of his face, but he looks to the left, turning his cheek toward me, refusing to meet my gaze. The betrayal slows my heart, stops time. While I’m trapped in his arms, looking at his flushed cheek, hurt hardens my heart. The need to be strong has to overpower my personal feelings. Whatever Jax feels for me, and what I feel for him, doesn’t matter. Not right now.
“What’s so special about little Annie?” Manvyke says.
“What’s not?” Jax’s neck and face turn scarlet.
“I said bring her here,” roars Manvyke.
A loud groan and thudding sound from behind us. My heart twists for Will.
Jax takes a step toward Manvyke, jolting us forward. “And I said NO,” he yells, the vein on his neck throbbing like an angry welt.
I cease my struggle. He must be true; he’s not giving me away. “What’s an Agia?”
“Cover-up.”
“NOW,” Manvyke roars, and the whole room shakes.
I jump, cringe, curl back into Jax’s chest, and his hold loosens just enough for us to lock eyes. I feel it. His body quivers. Vibrations shake his arms, his chest, his being. It’s not the room, it’s him. Whatever is going on, he’s fighting something strong, or maybe it’s fighting him. “Jax,” I whisper. “Jax, look at me.”
His eyes meet mine, a fierce inner battle raging within them. His face burns with anger and hatred, and his pupils almost consume his eyes.
“I believe in you.” My arm comes free with a sharp tug, and I raise my fingers to brush his cheek.
His pupils shrink to their normal size, and thin flecks become visible like shards of amber amongst his vibrant green irises. The coldness held within subsides and is replaced by something softer, warmer, normal. The shaking lessens, but still continues as spasmodic tremors.
“You shouldn’t,” he says.
I throw every inch of my trust into my expression, hoping he can read it like I read him. I read him? Confusing, closed off Jax. The look on his face that once before I would have barely noticed through the indifference. I really do trust him. I know he’s good. “I know you won’t hurt me.”
Light reflects off his round, glassy eyes. His face smoothes, and his jaw relaxes. The shaking finally shudders to an end. He squeezes me once, his grip loosens, and I’m free, back on my own feet.
“Bring her here. Now,” Manvyke screams.
Jax’s mouth turns up in a small smile, and he raises a lone brow. “No.”
“You choose a girl, not even of pure Collective blood, over your father?” Little bits of spittle fly out of Manvyke’s mouth.
Kratos snatches his dagger from the desk, his mouth slashed in a hard line and his stance ready to fight. Manvyke holds his hand up, and Kratos stops.
“Yes,” Jax says. The single word is packed with emotion. “Her blood is ten times better than yours, pure or not.”
Manvyke’s gaze paws over me again, from my head all the way to my feet. “Blood is thicker than water, boy, but perhaps teenage hormones have a stronger pull than both.”
I jerk my jacket closed, shoving each button through each hole. Filthy, dirty, disgusting, in need of a shower.
“I said don’t look at her like that.” Jax’s blade shoots out of the bone handle with a firm click.
Another deep groan comes from by the door, but this time no thud follows. The need to make sure Will’s okay pulls my glance over my shoulder. Flat on his back, Will’s arms are pinned by the henchman, blinking like he’s waking up from a deep sleep.
“Be still,” I urge him through the telcom. “Don’t let them know you’re conscious.”
“I don’t listen to disobedient children.” Manvyke waves Jax away.
“The only way you ever successfully made me obey you was with compulsion drugs.” Jax breathes like he throws every ounce of himself into the words. “That’s the only hold you’ve ever had on me.”
“Show some respect, boy, or I’ll do worse than compel you.” Manvyke’s eyes are tiny, glaring green seeds.
“I have no father. You lost the right to that title when you shipped me off to live with your enemy.”
Lilly lets out a sharp gasp, reminding me it’s not just the two of us fighting him. All color drains from her usual caramel face. I clasp Jax’s hand in mine.
“When you killed my mother, you lost all right to respect.” He steps forward with his blade extended. Dropping my hand, he rushes Manvyke.
With a cracking thump, Kratos jumps onto the wide desk and down onto the floor. Jax points his blade at Manvyke, but doesn’t strike. Quick as lightning, he grabs Dad’s arm and yanks him across the room. Fine Belgian Chocolates fly into the air and shower the room. He shoves Dad toward Lilly. Kratos looms in front of Manvyke like a bodyguard.
Lilly twists her arm around, trying to break free of the hold the woman has on her. The woman stumbles, trying to keep her grip, but Lilly raises a foot and lands a backward kick in her shin then twists right out of the woman’s hands with a bone-crunching snap. She grabs Dad by the wrist and pulls both their hands to her mouth. With her chin she bangs her wrist four times. They blink out of the room.
Gone.
Safe.
The woman falls and has to regain her balance, trying to grab the space where Lilly once was. Heat surges through my veins like pure power. My skin tingles all over. The bulk of our battle’s won.
Manvyke turns his back and strides to the edge of the room, barely batting an eye at Dad’s disappearance. He turns and spears Jax with a killing look. “I disown you. You are not my son.”
“I haven’t had a father in six years.”
“You are of no further use to me. Kill him.”
Kratos and the scrawny woman both move toward Jax, eyes cold and mouths pinched. Feet scuffle on the tiled floor. Will’s ruse of unconsciousness has paid off. He’s broken free of his captor, who rolls on the ground with a pain-contorted face and hands cupping his groin. The woman has Lilly’s dagger in her hand. She pulls her arm back high overhead, and tosses it. The blade flies through the air, toppling end over end in a straight path toward us. Right at Jax’s chest.
No.
A scream pierces my ears. Adrenaline launches me onto him in a desperate dive. Invisible, invisible, invisible. The speed of everything seems to drag like I’ve hit slow motion. Air whooshes past me. My heart throbs, loud and clear. My head explodes with screaming need. My hands impact his chest. We crash to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and bodies, mine sheltering his.
Jax.
The scream continues. My throat burns. I swallow, clamp my mouth shut.
Silence.
The only sound is the thud of my heart trying to beat in my ears. Jax looks at me through bulging eyes and swipes his hair out of his face. He disentangles his legs from mine and sits back on his heels, his face a mask of surprise.
An almost transparent barrier shimmers around us. Everyone on the outside of the bubble lies like rag dolls, contorted and limp. Like they’ve been flung against whatever stood in their path.
A searing pain shoots through my thigh. I grab it with both hands and grit my teeth against the hurt. Blood oozes out of the old wound. The translucent walls of the domelike barrier dance with tiny rainbows. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, and I have no idea what it is. Jax reaches out his pointer finger, which is just a little shaky. Just as his finger connects with it, the bubble snaps. Its substance evaporates into the air and instantly fills the silence with moaning and noises of pain. A whimper comes from nearby, the woman up against a wall, her arms and legs bent back at unnatural angles. Her eyes roll back in her head. Sickness sloshes in the pit of my stomach.
Kratos lies near her, his own blade pierced through his neck, blood bubbling around it with each shallow, raspy breath. A deep moan comes from ove
r by the door, where Will last stood.
“Will, where are you?” My gaze sweeps the room, but I don’t see him. Silence answers me.
“Will!”
The desk’s carved legs point upward, and jean clad legs stick out from beneath it. I run and grab at the desk, pulling with every ounce of my strength. It’s heavy; the wood’s so thick and weighty it won’t budge. I pull hard against it with everything I have, and it slides just a little. Will, Will, Will. His name thumps in time with my heart. He has to be okay.
Strong hands grip the end of the desk beside me. Jax nods, and together we raise it, balancing it on the short end. My heart flutters, and my eyes meet Jax’s, too scared to look down. Please let him be okay. A deep moan forces my glance to a body sprawled on the ground. He’s big and burly, but it’s not Will. Phew. Panic rises again. If it’s not Will, then where is he? Manvyke’s henchman lies still as a stone, his nose smashed into his face, and his chest not rising or falling.
I drop my head into my hands. Surely Will’s dead too. A lump slams into my throat, making it impossible to breathe.
A tug pulls at my sleeve. Jax pries my hands from my face. His eyes search mine and tell me it’s going to be okay. “Help me.” He reaches down and grabs the man’s legs, lifting them to reveal a single leg sticking out from under the henchman. My heart flips at the sight of Will’s sneaker-covered foot.
I jam my hands into the man’s armpits, and together we lift, pulling him to the side and dropping him like a dead weight. Which, I guess, he actually is.
Will rests under where the man was, splayed out flat like a squished bug. He has to be alive. “Will,” I whisper.
Swollen eyes struggle to open, but finally make it, and the ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Where’d that super power come from?”
I grin at my best friend and hold my hand out to him. Grunting, he clutches his chest and grabs my hand.
“Can you get up?”
He nods, and I pull him to his feet.
Everything speeds up. All at once, Will’s up, Jax spins around, and a croaky grunt reminds me we haven’t seen Manvyke to know if he’s alive or dead.
“You have the Tarlequin?” Manvyke’s smoothly veiled voice comes from the other side of the room. He pushes himself up off the ground with his hands and brings one leg up under him like he’s trying to rise. His leg gives way, and he crumples back onto his side, groaning as he falls onto broken bits of furniture. Leaning forward, he holds his body up on his hands with his legs splayed at an odd angle, one in front and the other bent forward at the knee. A line of blood drizzles his forehead.
“Tarlequin?” I let go of Will, pivoting to face Manvyke. He must have a concussion, talking in made-up words.
“It’s been lost for over three generations.” He speaks through gritted teeth. “Where did you get it?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We’ve got your father. Let’s go.” Jax turns to leave the room.
There’s a grunt of approval which must come from Will.
“Not yet,” I say through the telcom. “We have to do everything we came for.” I reach into my pocket and press in the raised, round button on the digital recorder.
Jax’s eyes meet mine. “If I stay here any longer, by God, I’ll kill him.”
“No, you won’t,” I say, and I know it’s true. Jax could never stoop to his father’s level. The compassion he’s shown me is evidence of that.
“I will. He killed my mother, Mae, and just now he tried to have me killed too. And what he’s done to you…. It’s taking every ounce of my strength not to hurt him.”
Manvyke looks from Jax to me, sizing us up like he knows words are passing between us. “The Tarlequin is a Key of Power,” he says.
I rub my thumb over the cool, hard pendant. He’s calling it by another name, but it’s clear this is what he means. Was I touching it when the bubble appeared? Maybe, maybe not. It all happened so fast. He watches me with a hawklike gaze. His eyes bore into my chest, right where the pendant sits. “Give it to me.”
“No.” Jax moves to my side, leaving Will leaning against the overturned table.
“It saved us,” I mutter, and run my fingers over the pewter petals of the flower.
“Stupid girl, you don’t know its power,” Manvyke spits. Blood drips from the cut on his forehead and down into his eye. He lets it slide all the way to his cheek without even flinching.
The cover-up creates a state of invisibility but this bubble, whatever it was, is different. No way am I giving it to him.
“You have both halves,” he says quietly, as if he doesn’t believe it’s true.
I release the pendant and it falls against the hollow of my throat, then my fingers brush the brooch on the inside of my jacket, careful not to touch the center. Manvyke pulls his lips back and bares his teeth, his small, greedy eyes lock on the pendant. “Give it to me. It belongs to the patriarchs.”
I tuck the pendant beneath my shirt. Safe. No way is he taking my mother’s keepsake. Tech or not, it’s mine. Jax’s loud laugh holds a synthetic edge. He grabs my hand and tugs. “Let’s go.”
“You can’t leave,” Manvyke yells. Light glints of the perspiration mixed with blood dribbling down the side of his face. “Kratos, Nike, Bia, stop them!”
Jax snorts and shoots Manvyke a disgusted look. “They’re dead. It’s over. Done. We’re leaving.”
I pull out of Jax’s grip, moving to peer down at Manvyke. “Leave my family alone, or I will tell The Council your plans.”
Manvyke’s eyes shoot round the room, wild and rage-fueled. “What plans? You have nothing on me. You can’t prove a thing.”
Will chuckles, and we exchange a quick glance. He’s with me. His face is ashen, his stance a little wobbly where he leans against the heavy desk.
“Really?” Jax raises a lone eyebrow.
“Tomorrow will be the same; you’ll still be hiding while I hunt you. You may have her father, but he is only an empty shell,” Manvyke says.
A chill runs to my core, turning my insides to ice. What have they done? Dad hasn’t been right since I left. Whatever it is, though, he’s better with us.
Jax releases his blade and steps closer to his father. “We have him, and you have nothing to hold over us. We, however, have everything over you.”
“You hold nothing over me, you insolent child,” Manvyke says.
Jax moves to loom over him, and I grab his arm, snaking my fingers around it. “He’s not worth it, Jax. You’re better than him.”
“We overheard you,” Jax says.
Bits of the conversation from the Council building flit through my mind. Now that the frantic pulse of adrenaline muddying my thoughts is starting to clear, I look Manvyke straight in the eye and a sense of calmness washes over me. “The Council is made up of a bunch of imbeciles.”
His face whitens against the trail of bright red blood crossing it.
“They’re taking the bait. Soon they’ll have no power.”
Jax gives me a small smile and nods. The words rush back to me like the memory of a bad dream. “The girl is a good distraction.”
Manvyke shakes his head, sending shards of plaster flying out of his hair.
“It won’t be long, and you’ll be in your rightful place, my liege: ruler of all.” I fling the final words at him.
Manvyke’s eyes pop.
Jax stands with feet planted wide. “You act against everything The Council stands for. The patriarchs work together. There has not been a king in the last thousand years.”
“I will not be king. I will be emperor.” Little bits of spit fly out of Manvyke’s mouth. The same scarlet color flushes his face as the blood dripping down it.
Jax flashes him a smile I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of. “I doubt it. You’ll be exiled.”
Manvyke’s nostrils flare. “You can’t prove a thing.”
Jax raises a brow, and I pull the recorde
r from my pocket, flashing it at Manvyke.
“You won’t get away with this,” he says.
“We will restore Mae’s dad, and we know all your secrets. You aren’t safe.” Jax turns his back on his father, slides his hand into mine, and we move toward Will.
The muscles along Will’s jaw, neck and cheeks look clenched. Beads of sweat glimmer across his forehead. “I can’t walk.”
Jax and I exchange a brief look, and move to either side of him. I wrap Will’s arm over my shoulder. Jax takes him by the other side, and we support him while he struggles to his feet. He groans when he puts weight on his left foot. A quick glance doesn’t show much through his sock and long pants, but the sharp breaths he pants as the three of us turn our backs on the destroyed room and walk through the small door, make me think it’s hurt pretty badly.
We leave Manvyke cursing behind us.
We exit through the front door and down the spiraling staircase. Will grows heavier and struggles to stay upright even with our help. He groans a little worse with each step.
“We’re almost there, Will. You can make it.”
As we practically carry him through the community, I glance over my shoulder every few steps at the buildings and into the fading darkness. I’m nervous someone might see us, but finally we reach the small gap in the fence without seeing a single soul. Not even the cat. Bright yellow sunbeams shoot up from the horizon into the soft grey light of dawn.
The sight of the fence floods me with relief, then stills my legs.
“How are we going to get him through?” I say into Jax’s mind alone. “He can barely walk, let alone crawl through there.”
“You go first. We’re going to have to wriggle him through.”
My stomach churns at the thought. Poor Will. This is going to hurt, but we have no choice. It’s the only way out. We lower him to the ground on his back.
I wriggle through the gap, and pain shoots up my thigh where the wound from yesterday split open again. The smell of moist dirt fills my nose as I turn around and lay on my stomach facing the hole.
One of Will’s hands appears first. Strong and large, I wrap my tiny hand around it. Pulling doesn’t budge him. So I reach through with my head half in the fence’s hole and grab him under the arms.