Unchosen

by Katharyn Blair

  Maddox looks down, her jaw clenching.

  Anger bubbles in my throat, but I know the truth—we need all the help we can get.

  “You do anything—anything—shady, and I’ll kill you myself,” I say finally, surprised at how much I mean it.

  Maddox doesn’t answer, because Thomas careens back into the tent.

  “The Blood Market,” he gasps out. “The Vessels took them to the Blood Market.”

  It’s quiet as the Jeep motorcade rolls through the forest, the smell of ocean air getting stronger with every bumpy turn. I adjust my mirrored bracelets before turning to look out the back window. Seth, Maddox, and I are in the first car, leading the charge, and Seth’s driving. Harlow, Lucia, and Thomas are behind us. If there’s anything about the Blood Market that can trigger any understanding of Vanessa’s words—anything that might save lives here—I want it to happen as soon as possible, before others get too close.

  We can’t wait for the rest of the reinforcements. What we have—a couple hundred—is all we’re going to have. And it will have to be enough.

  We hold our blades in our laps, though the roads around us are empty.

  “Shouldn’t there be . . . something?” I whisper. “Runners? Something?”

  “Yeah. There should,” Maddox says, her voice filled with uncertainty. It doesn’t suit her. “It’ll be right up here. This road dead-ends at the front gate.”

  “And how do we get inside?” I ask.

  Maddox is quiet. “I’ve never been inside,” she admits finally.

  We turn a corner, and I see it—a massive structure looming out of the ocean, almost like a stone creature from the deep that scrambled up to the shore but didn’t make it all the way. The ocean beats against the rock at the base, angry whitecaps spraying foam into the air. Fog rolls in over the water, but I can still make out a shape in the distance—a tall structure, black and foreboding.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “The Rig,” Seth answers, turning to follow my gaze.

  I shake my head, fighting against the feeling of unease that’s growing in my chest. “That’s the Rig? Did they know they were building it so close to the Blood Market when they started?”

  “I don’t know,” Seth admits.

  Maddox turns like she’s going to say something to me but doesn’t get the chance. A blast rips through the air, knocking our back tires completely off the ground. We lurch forward, then slam back down before I can let out a scream.

  “Shit,” Seth cries, twisting the wheel in an effort to keep us on the muddy road. I duck, covering my head as I turn to look out the back window. There’s smoke between us and the other vehicles. He slams on the brakes. Maddox coughs as she unbuckles her seat belt.

  “Seth?” I croak, turning just in time to see the figures stepping out of the smoke behind us. At first, I think it’s Lucia. Maybe Harlow. But I quickly realize it’s not.

  “Vessels,” I cry. Seth tries to throw the Jeep back in gear, but they’re too quick.

  They’re at the door before I can move. I scream as one rips the door off, reaching in and pulling me out. I shut my eyes tight as they drag me through the mud.

  “Charlotte!” I hear Harlow scream from the motorcade behind me, but I don’t turn back. I just hope she’ll run. That she’ll find a way back to Vanessa, and they’ll escape.

  I hear the sound of creaking metal, and I feel for my mirrors. They didn’t take them, so I glance down as the gate opens before me.

  I’ve imagined this place a thousand times. Curseclean in cages or tied up in corners—Vessels milling about, assessing the virtue and strength of each victim before deciding the price with the Runners. In my head it is a filthy, hellish wasteland.

  But that’s not what greets me when the metal door swings wide.

  Pristine white walls with electrical panels. High cathedral ceilings with industrial lighting. The floor is a gray marble, polished and reflective.

  I crane my mirrors, eyeing the glass doors that lead to wide hallways beyond.

  There are no Curseclean anywhere.

  No wailing. No Vessels.

  It’s just quiet.

  I turn the reflection to the side, and see Maddox in a Vessel’s grip next to me.

  “Shut your eyes, stupid,” she hisses, her voice tight. They take us through another hallway, and then, we stop. Without another word, the Vessel lets us go and steps back. I’m about to reach down for the blade I have stuck in my boot, but something makes me freeze. Without a word, I hear them leave, closing the door behind them, leaving us completely alone in a room that feels wrong.

  There’s a table in the middle of the room, and a glass wall along the right side—slightly fogged but still translucent.

  And beyond, propped up against the wall, are pods.

  “What the hell?” Maddox breathes.

  They look like coffins but with clear fronts. And inside, arms at their sides, are humans. The pods all have electronic screens, monitoring vital signs.

  Curseclean.

  Maddox steps toward the glass. “They’re in cryo,” Maddox says, running her hand over the glass as she looks back at me. “Preserved,” she breathes, and I know she’s as scared as I feel. Because I’ve seen a Vessel lair. This is different. This type of facility is advanced. It’s almost . . . medical.

  “Well. This really isn’t how I wanted this to go, Charlotte,” a voice behind me says.

  Maddox’s eyes widen, even as she clamps her jaw shut, trying to hide the fear rippling over her expression.

  I rotate, even though I realize who has spoken.

  I heard his voice, the night before.

  Abel Lassiter stands at the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

  Chapter 37

  I STOP AT THE END OF THE TABLE, MY HANDS SHAKING as I fight to keep calm. Abel Lassiter is here. In the Blood Market. My mind spins, fighting the one explanation that makes sense.

  The Torch runs the Blood Market.

  Abel walks to the head of the table and pours himself a glass of water. He drinks it slowly, then sets the glass in front of him as he lets out a satisfied sigh.

  “What the hell is this?” Maddox asks, stepping away from the glass.

  Abel looks at her, disdain filling his gaze. “Those? Those are just some of the ones who came to apply for entry to the Torch in person, but didn’t quite make it. Don’t act disgusted, Ms. Caine—there’s a whole row of yours in the back.”

  Her eyelids flutter as she blinks and closes her mouth.

  “They came to the Torch?” I ask, my voice cracking as my mind spins. I assumed they just sent you away if you were denied. I would never have imagined, not in a million years, that this is what they did.

  “Thirsty?” Abel asks, gesturing to the water. “You sound thirsty.”

  I can’t muster a reply—my eyes are still fixed on the people behind the glass. People who had hoped for safety. If Harlow hadn’t refused my plan to leave, it would have been us.

  “Sorry for the theatrics,” he says finally, running a hand over his mouth. “And the rude welcome. I wasn’t planning on showing anyone this place yet. Not until it was ready. But you and your the Heart is at the Blood Market thing . . . kind of threw everything into a tailspin, Charlotte.”

  I look to Maddox. Her face is stone as she stares at the ground. I swallow hard.

  “And what is this place?” I rasp out.

  “This?” Abel gestures around us. “This is the thing that will save the world. This is . . . salvation.”

  I freeze, watching how his eyes light up when he looks around.

  “When my mom was in local government, all she wanted to do was build this community center. It was all she focused on. All she talked about.” He walks around the side of the table. “She finally got the funding and worked for years to make that place a haven for the residents of our town. And you know how they thanked her? They trashed it. Stole from it to buy their drugs. Ripped up the books she painstakingly selected
for the library. I remember the look of disappointment on her face when we’d step inside it. That’s when I realized that the world would always have people who cared, and people who didn’t. People who wanted to be the best versions of themselves, and people who couldn’t care less.”

  I balk as his words sink in. “You want to kill people because someone tore up books in your community center?” I whisper incredulously.

  “Don’t be reductionist. I’ve seen your test scores. You’re not stupid, Charlotte. That was just the beginning. But I spent years in the world. I’ve been in combat zones. I’ve volunteered in youth homes. The line has always been there—we just never wanted to see it.”

  “What line?” I whisper.

  Abel walks around the table, his eyes fixed on mine.

  “The line between the people who contribute to society and the people who don’t.” He walks toward me. “And then, this curse.” He twists his expression into one of mock worry. “And while everyone was so scared—I saw an opportunity. The Vessels didn’t have to be the end of the world. They could be the beginning. But their descent into flesh-eating madness was . . . hard to control. I know it’s a curse, and it’s magic . . .” He bites his lip, lost in his own dark recollection.

  “But I knew I could do something. It was my destiny, right? I mean, I get my doctorate in viral studies, lead a team at the CDC for six years, and then the zombie apocalypse hits? Give me a break! How perfect was that? So I worked in the lab. Took samples. I thought I found a way to stop it. But . . . it didn’t. It just, stalled it a bit. And then, I realized . . . we didn’t need an antidote. Why get rid of the Crimson when you can just control it? But not everyone was on board. For me, that was the biggest disappointment. That even the one I loved most couldn’t see the future I was building.”

  “Evelyn,” I whisper.

  Abel nods. “Evelyn. She found out and threatened to tell everyone, so I had no choice. She was going to tell Seth, and I knew we would lose everything if that idiot heard of the plans. Self-righteous prick.”

  I bite back the bile rising in my throat. “And Admiral Marsali helped you?”

  “I needed an in for my plan. Admiral Marsali needed to break his rebellious son. Win-win.”

  He looks at the door, and it opens slowly. My breath catches, and I lower my eyes, watching in the mirror as a woman in black robes and scarlet lips stands there, her red eyes fixed on Abel.

  Evelyn.

  She walks into the room, her shoes clicking lightly on the floor, the mirrors tied in her shoes clinking softly with every step. She carries a metal case in her hands, and sets it gently on the table.

  “She’d always volunteered to be my first human trial—she was hopeful like that. Always giving me blood samples and hoping that she could assist somehow in saving the world. She was still helpful, after she turned. And it stalled the progression. She shared it with the others, which, of course, secured their loyalty—they saw her as a savior. The fact that there was a decline in her”—he looks down, searching her eyes—“moral superiority is . . . a perk. I would chalk it up to changes in the frontal lobe. She’s much more agreeable now. And as long as she keeps taking this”—Abel lifts a vial out of his pocket— “she will continue to be.”

  “You sent her to us. At the safe house,” I say, putting it all together.

  “I’d heard the Chosen One was found. I paid those idiots on the Cobalt to get me as close as they could. But they got sidetracked and bloodthirsty, like the beasts they are. The trip took twice as long, but . . . you still found me. Destiny,” he says, a soft, almost awe-filled smile on his face.

  No. My stomach lurches at the thought.

  No. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

  Find him on the dark blue.

  No. Saving a genocidal madman couldn’t be what this—the prophecies, the bloodshed—was about. I clamp my teeth together to keep from screaming.

  If Abel notices, he doesn’t care. He continues. “It was convenient that we finally got radio communication back up. You said you knew where the Heart was. I had to make sure you were full of shit. Which, you are. My mother spent years looking for that thing, hoping to end this. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

  My blood runs cold at the words. “Genevieve? She knew about this?” Abel doesn’t answer as he runs his fingers over the case. My mind turns, piecing the edges of half-formed thoughts together. “You killed her,” I whisper.

  “I did what I had to do to protect us. She came back here, ready to end it, but her boat sank. It took our doom with her—” He bites his words back, and for the first time since he walked in the room, he looks like he knows he’s said too much. He looks down.

  I swallow, almost afraid to ask the next question. “Why did you take Dean and Rielle?” I whisper.

  Abel looks up, and I feel Maddox shift next to me.

  He scoffs. “Dean followed me. For a dumb jock, he’s got some good intuition. Rielle. Is she the one we . . .” He looks down at Evelyn, and I follow his gaze through the mirror. She cocks an eyebrow in response.

  “Right. She’s the one we needed.”

  The doors open once more, and I hear soft grunts and the scuffle of feet. Two Vessels drag Rielle into the room, tossing her onto the floor. Maddox lurches forward, but Abel pulls a small gun from inside his jacket and points it at her.

  “Come on. Don’t be like that. Blood takes forever to get out of the marble,” he says. Evelyn walks to Rielle, pulling her up by her forearm and walking her closer to us as Abel opens the metal case on the table. Evelyn brings Rielle forward, and she locks eyes with me. Her hair is matted with blood, though I can’t tell if it’s hers or someone else’s. She meets my eyes and then looks to Maddox.

  As Rielle struggles against Evelyn’s grip, panic fills my lungs. I scramble desperately for a way to stop whatever is about to happen. I don’t know if Harlow and Seth are mobilizing a rescue, but I have to assume they’re doing something. It’s the only way to stop the fear from gripping the back of my throat so tightly I won’t be able to breathe.

  “Seth,” I say, hoping to stall. “He’s your best friend. How could you do this to him?”

  I hit a nerve, and Abel pins me with an angry glare as he tucks his gun back in his pocket. “I was doing this for him. For all of us. I was making a new world, because I thought he was brave enough to see it.

  “But now, Seth is just a hindrance. All the Xanthous are.” He flips open the case. Inside, there’s a clear vial filled with an angry-looking orange liquid. He lifts a syringe with nimble fingers, and the breath stills in my lungs.

  “At first, I didn’t think the Crimson would behave like a regular virus,” he says, sticking the needle into the orange vial and pulling deeply. “But it has all the same hallmarks. Incubation period. Infection. Decline.”

  Abel steps forward. “And eventually, it plateaus. Some people become immune. That wasn’t an issue, really, until I realized that it emboldened people like my best friend—people who wanted to return the world to like it was before. Given a long enough time, the Crimson might have evolved. But we don’t have that kind of time. This . . . this levels the playing field.”

  Abel stalks toward Rielle, and she backs up against Evelyn.

  “What are you doing?” I shriek, stepping forward, but Maddox yanks me back.

  “Take me!” she cries. Abel stops, pivoting toward us.

  “No, Maddox! Stop!” Rielle whimpers, but Maddox takes another strong step forward.

  “You need a Xanthous for some sort of . . . test? Use me. Leave her alone.”

  Abel looks from Rielle to Maddox, the corner of his mouth ticking up slightly. “I see.”

  “Rielle is the kind of person you’re looking for. The kind of person who fits into your mold of the new world,” Maddox spits. Rielle sobs silently in Evelyn’s arms, shaking her head.

  “I’m not,” Maddox continues. “We both know that.”

  “Ah, but you’ve been useful. And
you’ll continue to be useful. Whereas she”—Abel sweeps a hand in Rielle’s direction—“will continue to be a pain in my ass. Decisions, decisions.”

  A stillness falls over the room—the breath between a plunge. I don’t trust myself to blink, or breathe. Abel watches Maddox, whose fingers are splayed at her side. Rielle struggles in Evelyn’s iron grip, and Abel glances at the movement.

  That’s all the time Maddox needs.

  “I’ll be a pain in your ass right now,” she spits, snatching the vial from his fingers before Evelyn can stop her. Abel backs away, and Maddox takes only two seconds to consider her options. With deft fingers, she spins the syringe and plunges it into her neck. I know I scream, though it’s nothing compared to the one Rielle lets out.

  It’s quick, but not quick enough that I know it doesn’t hurt. Maddox lurches, shutting her eyes and letting out a soft hiss as she drops to her knees. I lower my eyes and tilt my mirror as she lifts the heels of her palms to her face.

  “Mad,” Rielle cries, and the heartbreak in the sound nearly splits my chest in two. Maddox lowers her hands, and I see her irises in my reflection.

  They’re not yellow anymore. Not fully, anyway. A deep, bright orange swirls in her gaze. She looks up, and Abel claps his hands.

  “Well! Step one is a rousing success! She’s not immune anymore,” he singsongs, stepping aside and motioning to Evelyn.

  “Let’s see if step two is just as effective, shall we?”

  Evelyn steps around Rielle, releasing her grip on my friend and dropping to a crouch in front of Maddox.

  “Look in my eyes,” she murmurs.

  “No!” Rielle screams, launching herself toward Maddox. I throw myself forward, wrapping my arms around her just as Maddox starts to scream.

  Rielle fights me, but I keep my arms tight as we both sink to the floor. I bury my face in her shoulder, her sobs racking her body hard enough to shake both of us.

  I hear Maddox stop screaming as the soft click of Abel’s shoes sound on the marble. He lets out a contented sigh, and I lift an arm, looking in the mirror as Maddox lifts her eyes.