’Til the World Ends

by Julie Kagawa, Ann Aguirre, Karen Duvall

  “Look, Ian, I can forgive what you did, but it might be best if we—”

  “Kept our distance,” he finished with a nod. “I get it.”

  I was going to say waited a few days, but perhaps distance was the better plan. After today, I doubted he’d stay in town much longer anyway. Best to cut the connection now because it would be much harder to do if I started liking him more than I already did.

  “Thank you for saving me today,” I told him, but he was already on the other side of the garage. The heavy thud of a closed door echoed against the concrete walls and inside the hollow chambers of my heart.

  I felt no better after waking from my short nap, just hungry. I craved something salty. Tonight was a good night to treat myself to some real meat, even if it was tough as an old tire.

  After taking a quick bath, I headed out into the cooler, eighty-degree night to get a meager meal of jerky and dried fruit. Eating should boost my energy by at least a watt or two.

  I stood at the intersection in the middle of town, facing Martha June’s General Store. I saw the abandoned Quick Stop gas station on the corner next to the hardware store, and the empty Java Jungle drive-through in the parking lot. It was twilight, and people were just leaving their homes to start their day. Children went to school at night, during the same hours their parents went to work. The town came alive when the sun went down.

  Evening wasn’t as dark as it used to be before the solar storms. Though the sun wasn’t visible, it left its imprint with charged particles that collided with atoms to create a natural light display. There’d been a time when such displays could only be seen in the far north, but now they were everywhere. They used to be called Northern Lights. Today we called them Night Rainbows.

  Hardly anyone drove a car anymore since gasoline was rare to nonexistent, and decent solar batteries were hard to find, but almost everyone owned a bicycle or rickshaw. Even with the population sparse as it was, the streets teemed with cyclists tonight.

  A mild wind blew through town that started out as blustery gusts. The pleased looks on people’s faces expressed their relief at the change in weather, and I had to agree with them. The air was inert most days, so having it brush through my hair like ghostly fingers felt wonderful.

  Scraps of paper and dead leaves blew across the street and collected in dry gutters. Women had to hold down their skirts and dresses to keep them from flying up over their heads. What started out as laughter quickly turned to shouts of alarm as tree branches, cardboard boxes and garbage cans rolled over the ground at incredible speed. Someone was struck by flying debris and fell in a rolling heap to the ground.

  Taking cover in the wide doorway of a building, I watched helplessly as people were snatched by the maelstrom and tumbled through the streets, their cries swallowed by the wind. The air was hazy with dirt and debris, but I clearly saw a rusted metal lounge chair hurtle toward the general store and smash through its plate-glass window. A man went running toward the building with a child in his arms and a woman slung over his shoulder. He disappeared inside, then came out empty-handed. He vanished into a cloud of swirling dust and trash, but returned with two more children that he deposited inside the store.

  When the man came out again, he doubled over, coughing and wiping a sleeve across his forehead. He lifted his face, and the dust cleared enough for me to see who it was. I was struck by his scowl of determination, how tight he clenched his jaw, and the white scar that bisected his right eyebrow. Ian Matthews straightened and squared his shoulders, his chest puffed out as if he’d just taken a fortifying breath. Then his posture changed. He jerked his chin up and stood squarely to face me.

  Chapter Six

  My gaze locked with Ian’s, and though we were at least fifty yards apart, I could feel the pull of his power. He appeared calm, yet fierce, and my heart thrummed against my ribs as his strength attracted me like a magnet.

  I had to go to him. I mean, I really had to, as in I was compelled to join him. To join with him. Letting go of the door frame, I crouched low to the ground to create drag and slowly made my way across the street. Ian’s eyes grew wide with surprise, and he shook his head, waving for me to go back. He had no idea the command he had over me just then. I could not refuse his silent and subconscious call.

  A shadow of worry darkened his face, and his eyes began losing their glow. He started walking toward me.

  I shook my head. “Keep at it!” I shouted. “Stop the wind!”

  I doubted he could hear me through the roar of whirling air that tossed around pebbles like popping corn. But he understood because he halted his advance, and his eyes began to glow again. I ran the last ten feet and flung my arms around him to stop myself from blowing away.

  The second our bodies touched, there was that same power surge as before. My head against his chest, I heard his heart beat strong and steady. My own heart beat in rhythm with his, like a melody in perfect tempo.

  We were encased inside an invisible bubble that repelled the wind. The bubble grew, shoving the maelstrom farther and farther away until not a single twig blew in the street. The storm was over.

  Ian and I continued to cling to one another, both of us thinking the wind might come rushing back. But after a few minutes, the calm continued. We were safe. And so was the town.

  I blinked at the sudden realization that my withdrawal symptoms had vanished, as well. He had channeled kinetic energy through us both, and that was enough for the fix I needed. At least until the next storm.

  “That was incredible,” Ian murmured.

  “I know.” I slowly released him and stepped back. “The power...” I was conflicted about our connection. As good as it felt, surrendering myself to his control didn’t sit well with me. I wasn’t ready. Being that vulnerable with another person, especially someone I hardly knew, someone who had deceived me, wasn’t easy to accept. I wasn’t sure I ever could.

  “You look amazing, Sarah,” he told me. “You’re glowing.”

  “Oh, no.” I sucked in a breath. My fingers traced over my face. “Literally?”

  He smiled. “No. As in healthy.”

  I closed my eyes in relief. “Look, Ian. What just happened was amazing, but I haven’t changed my mind about how I feel. We need distance from each other.”

  A frown replaced his smile. He studied me for a minute, his piercing gaze trying to read what was in my mind. “So you’re telling me I should move on.”

  I knew this would happen sooner or later. I didn’t want him to leave, but that might be best for both of us, at least for the time being. “It doesn’t have to be forever. When the world returns to normal—”

  “For better or worse, you and I both know the world will never be like it was,” he said, his dark eyes intense. “And neither will we. What we’ve become is never going to change. Tell me what scares you, Sarah.”

  He scared me. I was afraid of what he’d done to me just now, whether he’d meant to or not. “I give myself over to my ability with every premonition I have,” I told him, biting off each word. It was important that he understand. “Losing control to you, too, is more than I can handle.”

  Bewildered, he said, “You still don’t trust me.”

  Not after he’d lied and tried to steal from me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not yet.”

  His expression abruptly changed. It was as if he’d erected a wall between us, his eyes hard and his lips pressed tight together. He narrowed his gaze and cocked his head slightly to the side. “It’s just as well. Once news about how we stopped the windstorm reaches Nichol, he’ll come here looking for me, and when he does, I don’t want him near you. I’ll keep my distance, but I’m not leaving town. I’m staying to protect you.”

  My pulse jumped. Part of me was glad that he’d be staying. The other part knew how hard it would be not to get close to him again.

  * * *

  After three days of avoiding each other, Ian and I both performed the job of a hospital orderly. We helped feed patie
nts, bathed and dressed them, read to them and assisted them in any nonmedical way we could, all without coming in direct contact with one another.

  The hospital was small and had only a couple of wings. On the rare occasion that our paths crossed, Ian appeared closed off, guarded, always looking over his shoulder. It drove me mad to know he lived in the hospital basement, and I was a mere two floors above him. I longed for a better compromise than distance, but separation had been my idea. That made it my problem. Not his.

  I sat in an armchair positioned by the window, the blinds only partially drawn since blessed twilight had taken the burning sunshine away. I was reading to a patient in hospice care. Night Rainbows undulated like waves of fairy dust in the distance, their beauty a contradiction to the destructive force that made them.

  Sally Gardner lay in a coma on her hospital bed. No medicine existed that could bring down her fever, and it hurt to see her like this. She reminded me of my mother. I hoped the sound of my voice gave her comfort. I wanted her to know she wouldn’t die alone.

  Ian walked in and stopped when he saw me. “Sorry, I just came in to change her bedding. I’ll leave you alone.” He turned around to leave.

  I closed the book in my lap. “Don’t go. I’m sure Sally would appreciate the company.” And so would I. Realizing I was violating my own rule, I expected him to walk out the door and not come back.

  His gaze shifted away from the dying woman on the bed to study the floor. “I remember you saying that your mother died of the fever.”

  I nodded, pleased that he hadn’t walked out. Maybe it was time to lift the moratorium on our fragile friendship. “But my mom died at home with my father and me at her bedside. This poor woman doesn’t have anyone.”

  Head still lowered, he gazed up at me, his eyes tender with meaning. “So you know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  “Do you?”

  He approached the bed and ran the backs of his fingers gently down Sally’s arm. “I lost them both the same day.”

  My hunch about something troubling him was right. I imagined it was hard for him to talk about, but maybe all he needed was to get it off his chest. He must have a lot of pain buried inside. “Your parents?”

  “My wife and daughter.”

  Hearing that was like a punch to the gut. His grief explained a lot about his behavior. I’m not sure why, but I never would have guessed he’d been married and had a child. To hide my surprise, I flipped through the pages of the book in my lap. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Lacie was only four years old. She and her mother had suffered terribly, and the mercy of death released all three of us from the pain of hanging on. They died at the exact same moment. I held them both in my arms when they drew their last breath. It was a miracle.”

  Hearing the love in his voice made my heart swell with affection for him. “I didn’t understand why I’d survived the fever and my family hadn’t. I felt guilty. That’s why I left Boston, to search for answers.”

  Survivor guilt. It was a common affliction among the living, and I understood what he’d gone through. “Did you find them?”

  He shook his head. “What started out as a quest for truth turned into a desperate fight for freedom after Nichol took me. Since my escape, I’ve focused so much on not getting caught again that I almost forgot what had sent me on the road in the first place.” His haunted eyes swiveled to look at me. “Until I came here.”

  My pulse quickened. Why couldn’t he have just been an ordinary man? I think even without his kinetic powers he’d be special. I was glad he’d come to Lodgepole and was about to say so when a flash of light brightened the window. Then came a boom loud enough to rattle the blinds.

  “What the hell?” Ian ran to the window, and I left the chair to stand beside him. Two blocks away, the community center flickered with flames as smoke belched from its broken windows.

  Chapter Seven

  I watched as people ran from the flaming building and a siren blared. The only fire truck the town had pulled up in front of the burning structure and three figures climbed out. I wondered how long it would take for the water to get turned on, or even if it would. The hydrants had been disconnected months ago. All anyone could do was evacuate the building, and I just hoped no one was left inside.

  By the time Ian and I made it to the first floor, the lobby bustled with chaos.

  “Anyone know what caused this?” Ian yelled into the crowd.

  “No,” a man answered. “We were playing pool when the roof exploded.”

  “Lightning strike,” someone else called out.

  A man pushed his way to the front, his black skin even blacker with smears of soot. He gasped in air and coughed, his eyes streaming tears that I hoped was only from the smoke. “The fire’s spreading to other buildings.”

  “Is anyone inside?” Ian asked.

  “We all got out of the center in time,” the man said. “But there could be people inside the buildings next door. The fire’s spreading fast.”

  My heart jerked as I caught my breath. We needed water to put out the fire. The water tank was only half a mile away, but bringing the mountain to Mohammed wasn’t going to happen. Unless...

  I ran to Ian and clutched his arm. “You can help.”

  He looked down at me as if I’d just grown a third eye. “What?”

  I yanked him toward me so that I could whisper, “Rain.”

  He gently pulled away. Regret glimmered in his eyes as he shook his head.

  “Why not?” A sense of panic and frustration overwhelmed me. I was helpless to do anything. The town could burn to the ground, and Ian had the power to prevent it.

  “You know why,” Ian said without looking at me.

  Of course I knew why he wouldn’t want to make it rain, but not why he’d flat-out refuse to save an entire town. He’d always proven himself helpful before, so I didn’t understand why the sudden change. I glared daggers at him and growled, “You’re a selfish bastard.” I ran out into the hot night made even hotter by the fire.

  I think everyone in town came out that evening. Cycle rickshaws peddled toward the fire, their carriages loaded with buckets. Some even had cases of bottled water the owners were willing to sacrifice just to put out the flames. Lodgepole, and the people who lived here, was all we had left of our old lives. We’d do whatever it took to save it.

  I’d barely sprinted one block when the distinct buzz of a motorcycle approached from behind. I turned my head to see Ian whiz by at top speed. Was he hightailing it out of town already? Tears of disappointment stung my eyes. I’d always considered myself a good judge of character, but maybe I didn’t have a clue. Ian being a Kinetic had clouded my judgment. He cut sharply around the corner where the community center flickered with flames, then vanished from sight.

  The heat grew so intense that I stopped running about fifty feet from the curb. I couldn’t stop the fire, but I had basic first aid skills I’d put to good use if anyone got hurt.

  I glared at the colorful Night Rainbows that rippled on the horizon, my fury aimed at the brilliant star responsible for making our lives a living hell. It had killed my mother and warped my poor father’s mind. It had forced us from our homes, our jobs, and in some cases, even our families. The sun was a bully, and I hated my addiction to its power.

  I clenched my fists, my nails cutting into my palms, when I felt a wet drop land on my curled fingers. It was followed by another one, then another. I gazed up at the fluffy gray cloud hovering above the community center. It opened, and rain poured down, splattering the asphalt and sizzling into steam as it came in contact with the fire.

  Ian had made it rain, and I was thankful for it.

  The street swarmed with people, their upturned faces catching drops of rain as a low cluster of dark clouds continued to dowse us with water. Everyone acted as if they’d never seen rain before. It had been at least a year since little more than a shower had drizzled over our town.

  The
air was cleansed of acrid smoke, and the community center fire waned, the flames sputtering beneath a sheet of gentle rain.

  I heard the whine of Ian’s bike coming toward me. He slowed to a stop about twenty feet away and cut the engine. Amazed by what he’d done, gratitude overwhelmed me and I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck to give him a fierce hug. It didn’t matter that his power could overtake me again. I just wanted him to know how thankful I was.

  “Thank you,” I said, my words muffled against his warm neck.

  His hands gently grasped my wrists as he pushed me back. “You called me a selfish bastard.”

  I heaved a sigh of shame. “I’m sorry, but I was upset—”

  “You know what this means?”

  “Of course I do. It means you helped save this town from burning to the ground.”

  “Possibly at the cost of our freedom. I was thinking about you, Sarah. I don’t want you getting hurt the way I was.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t know that will happen. No one here knows you did this.” I gazed up at the sky and let drops of moisture refresh me before facing him again.

  He scowled, his jaw tight and his muscular shoulders tense as they bunched beneath his scrubs. “Don’t be so sure.” He stomped down on the throttle, and the bike’s engine roared to life.

  “Wait!” My wet hair stuck to my face and sides of my neck, the cool rain bathing the sweat from my skin. I blinked up at the cloud that began to dissipate and heard a moan of disappointment erupt from the crowd still loitering in the street. “Where are you going?”

  “I said I’d stay to protect you in case Nichol shows up, but if I leave now I can lead him away.”

  “Ian, don’t go.” I grabbed his hand, and when our fingers touched, a surge of energy leaped between us. Could I resist him? I didn’t even try. The cloud above re-gathered itself, and it began raining again.

  He looked amazed. “I...I didn’t do that.”

  I was just as surprised. “Where’s the water coming from? The town water tank?”