The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  “So, you make people think the world is going to end unless we can somehow destroy this Armageddon-sized meteor and that’s supposed to convince these people to come clean?” I said. “Sounds risky.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you have a plan B.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “That’s also you?”

  He nodded. “If for some reason the people harboring those weapons didn’t have the sense of self-preservation to actually use them, then I’d have to step in and knock the meteor slightly off course so that it would miss earth completely.”

  “But you ran,” Bryn said. “How did you get away from them?”

  “From her,” Ian clarified, looking from us to the street down below. “She’d yet to unveil her plan A to the others. As for escaping…” He lifted his pant legs, revealing deep wounds that had just begun to scab over. Teeth marks. “Dogs. She had the building surrounded by them. I’d tried escaping a few times with no luck but one night a massive thunderstorm knocked out the power. I managed to find my way to the basement and when I looked through the small window I realized that the grounds were empty.” He dropped his pant legs. “The dogs were afraid of lightning.”

  “How did you finally get out of the basement?” I asked.

  “The storm was loud that night and with my help it got even louder. I maneuvered the lightning to strike the latch over the storm cellar door and then I made a run for it.” Ian stared out the window. “But she knows I’m still close.”

  “How?” Bryn asked.

  Ian exposed the inside of his elbow. A dull light flashed blue below the surface. “It’s deep. I’d try to cut it out but…I’m a coward, I guess. Besides, I know they have my body and I can’t just leave it there. I’ve been dodging her and hiding in different places inside the city until I could come up with a plan to rescue it. But then I ran out of time…”

  “What do you mean you ran out of time?” I said.

  “They must know where I am by now. I’ve been driving myself mad here. I’m tired of running. You don’t know what it feels like to be outside your body for so long.” Ian gripped his scalp. “At first it just feels bare like you’re swimming in electricity. But then it starts to get cold. You ache but there’s no flesh to comfort you or keep you warm. It hurts in a way you could never imagine.”

  I was silent and so was Bryn. I watched her rise and fall with each breath, realizing for the first time that even though I could see and feel her body, she couldn’t. What she wore was only a memory of her living, and while I would eventually wake up, Bryn would be trapped in that in between forever. She hooked an arm around her own waist, gripping herself. I wondered what she felt instead. Did she hurt like Ian? Was it driving her mad too?

  “I know they’re coming,” Ian said.

  Bryn’s voice dropped. “Ian, they don’t have your body.”

  He shivered. “What?”

  “We’ve come to take you home.”

  Behind Bryn’s expression, I could tell she was gutted. But all Ian could see was the false hope and the only word he’d heard was home. Bryn held out her hand, sensing the urgency, but Ian hesitated, anxious.

  The sound of footsteps stopped at our voices and I barely saw the barrel of the gun before the first shot was fired. I whirled in front of Bryn, sending her tumbling as the bullet clipped my shoulder. It stung but the moment I ignited, the wound and the bullet were gone. Another shot lodged into my gut, melting the second it met muscle. The third bullet disintegrated mid-air right between my eyes.

  “Stop.”

  The two gunmen tensed as a woman stepped forward, her hand raised, eyes wide. She was examining me. Admiring me. Because I was exposed. Again. She gawked and my muscles twitched, the flames almost forcing me into motion.

  The woman sighed. “What have we here?”

  “Stay back,” I growled.

  Her voice was like a drop of gasoline and my body fought against stillness. For a second I wondered why I didn’t listen to it. Why I didn’t charge and lose control.

  Don’t lose control again, Roman. You can’t.

  Her eyes were aflame with my reflection, hypnosis carrying her forward. “He didn’t show me one like you…”

  “He…” Bryn paled and I knew she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  “He…” the woman looked down, remembering, “was a horrible thing to see.” Her gaze shifted to Ian in the corner. “But then he showed me Ian.”

  “You won’t take me.” Ian spoke through rage and gritted teeth and I thought he was going to explode.

  “Who else did he show you?” Bryn stepped into the woman’s line of sight, fists clenched at her side. Concentrating.

  The woman paused, eyes narrowed as if she were barely able to grasp the thought.

  “Who else?” Bryn demanded.

  The woman’s face twisted, straining away from something. She finally said, “a man who could speak any language…”

  Bryn’s lips barely moved. “Joseph…”

  I had tried so hard to forget how long Bryn had been trapped in Anso’s prison; long enough to learn the other Dreamers’ names, long enough to care about them. I didn’t know who Joseph was but it was obvious he was still in danger.

  “Who else?” Bryn snapped.

  “A young girl who could control the ocean. The girl…” The woman stared into the memory. “She was fascinating.” Her awe turned stale. “But I was outbid.”

  Bryn boiled, shaking. “Outbid?”

  One of the gunmen cocked his weapon. “This is a waste of time.”

  The other gunman chimed in. “Let’s take him and get out of here, boss.”

  Bryn targeted her gaze and a sweat broke out on the woman’s brow. “It’s…alright.” She didn’t take her eyes off of Bryn and Bryn didn’t take her eyes off of her.

  “How much did you pay for Ian?” Bryn demanded.

  The woman’s face flushed, sound barely forcing her lips apart as she fought against Bryn’s control.

  “How much?” Bryn almost took another step, her shoulders broadening instead. Her knuckles were white, her psychological grip on the woman tightening.

  The word tumbled out, forced. “Nothing.”

  Bryn stared at the woman as she said, “She’s telling the truth.”

  “He didn’t want money,” the woman went on. “He didn’t want anything except to know what I’d planned to do with Ian. That’s how I was outbid with the girl—her captors must have had a more…sinister imagination than I did.” She paused and Bryn let her. “I remember when I told him he…smiled…the most deranged smile I’d ever seen.” She sucked in air as if something was stringing around her windpipe. “Sometimes I still see it.” She shook. “When I sleep. When I worry. I see his face and I’m sick all over again. I—” She choked and that’s when I noticed the blood trickling from Bryn’s palms, fists clenched so tight that her nails were ripping straight through the skin.

  The gunmen noticed too, a bullet zipping past Bryn and lodging into the wall. I braced myself in front of her as a bullet sliced through Ian’s left knee. He fell against the window, glass splintering beneath his weight. Bryn ran to his side, trembling hands still afraid of touching him.

  Ian panted, something glinting in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said and then he tossed a bit of starlight into the center of the room. It chirped, blinking and counting down.

  The gunmen fired, another shot clipping Ian in the shoulder as he fell over the window’s edge. I tried to move but my body was cement. My muscles contracted like molasses and so did my lungs. But the woman and her gunmen were frozen too. Time slowed the same way it had when Bryn dragged us through that crowded square in Andalusia. Only this time the bullets were headed in our direction. They twisted in the corner of my eye as I stared at the explosive, the red light winking slow. Heat pulsed from it in a thick wave, the blast barely beginning.

  Bryn took my arm, animating the rest of me just as the floor splintered and opened up beneath us.
The gunmen were suspended mid-fall as Bryn and I reached the window.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded and we hurled ourselves through.

  We hit the concrete and it heaved like tumbling waves, casting us gently onto the grass next to Ian’s broken body. The whistle of the blast chased us all the way to Celia’s and then there was no smoke, no flames. The only thing that collapsed was Bryn, her body wrapped around Ian.

  The air around them was charged, the surge almost knocking me back. Like a swarm, the current buzzed and broke free from Ian’s very skin, absorbing into Bryn’s. And there was no time to hesitate or even let go. I watched the light in Ian dim and then he was thrashing and tearing at the air, at Bryn too.

  He coughed, trying to sit up, but his gums were bleeding, another bright line cutting down from his nose. He screamed, choking on injuries we couldn’t see. Wounds that would have been fatal if he were about to wake into a living body.

  Bryn stumbled back too, staring at her hands, frantic. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to.”

  Ian rolled, coughing and trying to breathe.

  “What happened?” I crawled between them but I wasn’t sure who exactly needed protecting from whom.

  Ian trembled so uncontrollably he could barely keep his mouth closed, something inside him unhinged.

  Bryn was shaking too. “I’m sorry.”

  “You took it.” Ian buried his face in his hands. When he finally let go his eyes were bottomless. Two chasms that led to nothing and nowhere. “You took it. You took it.”

  Bryn crept towards him. “I wasn’t trying…I didn’t…” And then she stopped talking. She stopped trying to reach him. Because Ian wasn’t in there.

  We carried Ian up the steps, Celia throwing the door open at the sound.

  We heaved him onto the couch and he shot up, contorting. “You took it. You took it. You took it.”

  I turned to Rafael. “His body’s with the dead.”

  “What’s happened to him?” Vogle asked.

  Bryn backed away from Ian, barely able to look at him. “I just…I just touched him. Like the others. I took his hand and I saw his memories. But then when I let go of him it was like he…”

  “Like he lost his mind,” I finished for her.

  Vogle crouched, examining Ian more closely. Ian’s eyes darted, skimming right over him.

  “It looks like some kind of psychosis,” Vogle said.

  He drew too close and Ian swiped at him, catching the side of his face. A small drop of blood trickled up from the scruff on Vogle’s chin.

  Rafael and Adham led Ian’s lifeless body onto the floor and before anyone could say another word, Bryn was forcing Ian back into it. He vanished and so did every ounce of air in the room. Bryn’s shoulders heaved but I couldn’t tell if the panic was finally settling in or just now letting go of her.

  I needed her to look at me. I needed to see that she was okay even though I knew she wasn’t. But it was like she hadn’t had time to think or stop or even feel before she forced Ian back into his silent body. And even worse, I could tell by her spontaneous stillness that she didn’t want to.

  I stood in front of her, reading in her eyes that she wasn’t just fighting off the lifetime of memories she’d stolen from Ian, but the lives she’d brought to an end. His. The strangers in that abandoned barbershop. Dr. Lombard and his guards.

  “You should have let me do it,” I whispered.

  I knew Bryn knew I was talking about Ian’s captors, about Kira’s too. I knew she knew I was right but she didn’t even have the energy to shake her head.

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “It’s done,” she croaked out.

  “Look at me,” I breathed.

  Her gaze shifted to my chin, my mouth.

  “Look me in the eye,” I pleaded.

  Her cheeks flushed and I knew my voice was chipping away at her.

  “Please.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t.”

  Suddenly a strange stillness scaled the walls and everyone in the room was frozen. The tick of the old grandfather clock fell silent, hands stalled at a quarter to three. Bryn and I stood in between two worlds—one that belonged to just the two of us and one that belonged to everything else. Everything bad and scary and evil. Everything dangerous and out of our control.

  “I killed them,” was all Bryn said.

  I stared at her until the pain she felt was amplified between my own ribs. My eyes watered. “I’m sorry.”

  She grimaced, hiding the tears when all I wanted was for her to let them fall. I leaned in close, my chin pressed to her forehead just for a second before she pulled away again. And it was so faint, that spark. So achingly far away that I thought I’d imagined it. But it was there.

  “I should be the one to do it,” I said. “I’m the killer. Not you.”

  She was quiet, probably thinking I was talking about the future. Probably deciding in that moment to save me like she was trying to save everyone else.

  “Let me be the one,” I said.

  “You can’t…” She closed her eyes again. “In the end…it’s going to be me against Anso.” She looked up, sighed. “Just me.”

  “We’re all in this…you, me, the Rogues—”

  She shook her head. “I’ve seen it.”

  “Seen what?”

  Her face fell. “How it ends. He’s been…watching me. He’s been sending me messages.”

  “Anso?” I asked. “The crows?”

  Bryn nodded. “And in the Dreamers’ memories. When I touched Kira…” she tightened her fists, “I saw my grandmother. At first I wasn’t sure it was real. I didn’t understand how it was part of Kira’s memories. I watched her die, Roman. I saw Michael. I saw everything.”

  I’d been the one to find Bryn’s grandmother that day. I remembered Bryn searching the house, calling for her. Dani was in bad shape and Bryn’s grandmother was the only person Bryn thought could help. I’d stepped outside, looking too, and the first thing I saw was her open hand, tufts of grass twisted in her fingers as if she’d tried to claw out of Michael’s reach. She was so ghostly pale I almost thought I was back in Bryn’s dream-state, trapped in another nightmare.

  I’d shielded Bryn from it then, holding her back. Even as she fought. Even as she cried. I wouldn’t let her see what Michael had done. But now her memory was stained by more than just the sight of her grandmother’s body. I could tell by the dark circles under her eyes; by the way her lip trembled that somehow she’d absorbed Michael’s memories too. She hadn’t just watched how her grandmother had died. She’d watched how he’d killed her. How he’d relished in it. How she’d fought back. How he’d won.

  “Bryn, I’m…” I could barely get the words out. “I’m so sorry.”

  “When I touched Alma I saw Anso. I…I saw him die too.”

  “Is that what you meant? Is that how it’s supposed to end?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, brow creased. “I don’t know what game he’s trying to play with me. When I absorbed Alma’s visions I saw the Dreamers. Some of them were dying. It wasn’t until I touched Ian that I realized Anso had planted those memories for me to find.”

  “What did you see when you touched Ian?”

  Bryn stiffened, angry. “Us.” She looked around the room, everyone still frozen in time.

  Cole, Dani, Felix, and Stassi were crouched near the television. Celia was in mid-rush from the kitchen to the living room, Rafael reaching a hand in her direction, a washcloth trapped in mid-air between them. Adham was at Ian’s feet, gripping a pillow as if he was about to shift it out of the way. Ian’s comfort was irrelevant. He was the stillest of all, blood stalled down the side of his face. Vogle dabbed at it with a stained rag, traces of red under his fingernails.

  “It was a birds eye view of the house and all of us in it,” Bryn said.

  “The crows.”

  She nodded. “He knows we’re here.”

  “Then why hasn’t
he come?”

  “He’s still weak,” Bryn said. “Too weak to go after the Dreamers himself.”

  I shuffled back a step. “But someone else is?”

  She glanced down. “Sebastían. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. All I know is that he’s going after the Dreamers and that we have to get to them first. That was something else Anso said…” She took a breath. “When I touched Alma I heard his voice. He said, ‘you will dig their graves until you’ve dug your own. Until I have one of my own too.’”

  I was quiet.

  “Roman, he’s going to try to kill them. All of them.”

  I could see the revelation tearing at her but all I could think about was Anso’s other promise—that if Bryn went after the Dreamers she’d be digging her own grave. Anso had already silenced her body but this was a promise to silence her dreams—the only part of her left.

  “I won’t let him,” Bryn said, angry again.

  I wondered if that was even a choice Bryn could make. I wondered if it would matter.

  Before I could speak, something stung me in my gut, another sharp pang ignited in my chest. I felt like I was spinning.

  Bryn sensed me tip off balance and she reached for me. “Roman?”

  I fell to my knees, except it wasn’t gravity that sent me to the floor. Suddenly, I blinked and I was sitting up in my body on a loveseat in one of the spare bedrooms. Awake. I’d almost forgotten that I’d been sleeping all that time, that that was the only thing making me malleable enough for Bryn to bring along. I scrubbed the sleep from my eyes, blinking against the lights.

  Bryn’s body lay on the bed across from me.

  I froze, replaying Anso’s words and tracing Bryn’s shape beneath the sheets. I waited for the slightest movement, for air to fill her lungs even though I knew Bryn would hate me for hoping. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but stare. I couldn’t help but wait. I was good at that. Because this wasn’t the first time I’d waited for Bryn to wake up. This wasn’t the first time someone had told me she was dead. When Dani attacked Bryn at the hospital in Germany, those were the words Vogle could barely get out. This was the same body I’d found in that hospital bed. This was the same girl who’d fought from Anso’s grasp; who’d conquered her worst fears and woken herself up. She was right about Anso being weak because she was the one who’d made him that way. She would wake herself up again. She will.