I snorted. “Bullshit.”
“You’ve got the sarcasm down pat.”
I tugged off my shirt and tossed it aside. Trev had to help me with my jeans, which were almost glued to the wound in my leg, and I had to bite back a string of curse words while he doused the area with water to loosen some of the old blood. Then he quickly and none too gently ripped the material away.
“Fuck!”
“Sorry.”
The jeans met the shirt on the floor.
Trev pulled on a pair of black-framed glasses.
“Since when do you wear glasses?”
He shrugged. “About a month, I guess. It’s been getting worse lately. I think I might have worn glasses before the Branch, but the alterations, and all the shit they had us on, changed my sight for the better. Now that I’m not receiving treatments…” He gestured to the glasses. “Sight’s going again.”
He crouched beside the bed to examine my leg. “Didn’t go straight through, so that’s good. Seems to be a superficial wound.”
He stood up and came to the head of the bed to check out the wound in my shoulder.
“Knife wound,” I explained. “But just a slice.”
“Deep, though,” Trev said. “It’ll need stitches.” There was a second slice on my abdomen, on the lower right side. “That one, too, probably.”
“You got any pain meds?” I asked.
“Ibuprofen.”
“That’ll work.”
A half hour later, as promised, Anna, Sam, and Cas showed up. Cas whistled when he saw me lying in bed with hardly any clothes on. I told him to screw off.
Anna came straight over and wrapped her arms around me. I groaned from the pain, and she pulled back. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“We have to get Elizabeth.”
She nodded. “We will.”
“How bad is it?” Sam asked Trev.
“Not bad at all. He should be fine in a week or two.”
I sat upright and winced when the wound in my side pulled open. “I’ll be fine by tonight. When we go get Elizabeth.”
The longer she was out there, the farther away she’d be. And not just in physical distance. If she was with Riley right now, they could have already wiped her memories. Or brainwashed her into thinking I was the bad guy. Or worse… killed her. And I still didn’t know the answer to the question that’d been nagging me since I arrived here: Why Elizabeth? What had the Branch done to her?
And then it all clicked into place.
The Angel Serum.
The other night, when Elizabeth was cut by a shard of glass from the broken rum bottle. The cut was gone minutes later.
“Hey,” I said, the realization becoming clear. But my call was drowned out by Cas and Trev arguing. I yelled again, “Guys!”
They all turned to me. “Elizabeth was treated with the Angel Serum.”
“Yeah, we already figured that out,” Anna said.
I groaned. Sometimes I hated how smart she was.
“But,” she went on, “that doesn’t explain why they’d take her now, instead of killing her. Why do they want her back? If they created the Angel Serum once, they could do it again. They don’t need her.”
“And based on the audio logs for Patient 2124,” Trev said, “she was more trouble than she was worth.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Elizabeth was Patient 2124.”
Trev frowned. “No?”
I got a flash of the girl in the cell in the lab, the one who’d whipped me with a bedsheet. I closed my eyes, tried to recall the whole memory. The girl had been skinny. Her eyes were narrow, pinched at the corners, as if there was a drop of Asian heritage somewhere in her past. Definitely not Elizabeth’s big, round eyes. I was such an idiot for not seeing it sooner.
Even though it wasn’t Elizabeth, I still felt like I knew that girl—I just couldn’t place her. The answer was right there, but my head was pounding and nothing made sense.
I lay back down, feeling like I might puke.
“Here.” Anna handed me a plastic cup.
I gave it a sniff. Vodka. I grinned at her and emptied it in one gulp.
“We can debate all this later,” she said. “Right now we need to patch you up.”
Anna, Sam, and Trev got to work while Cas flipped through the TV channels and settled on one of those Real Housewives shows. “This bitch is crazy,” he said, right before he stuffed his face with a handful of popcorn.
Once the wounds were cleaned up, and I’d downed two more shots of vodka, Trev came at me with a needle and suture thread. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
The bullet wound wasn’t too bad, and had been deemed safe for patching up. The knife wounds were another story. Trev started on the one on my shoulder. The pain was searing, like a hot poker in my skin, over and over again.
Fifteen seconds in, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I gritted my teeth. Tried to internalize the pain and swallow it down before I ripped someone’s head off.
Trev was quick and efficient and had the first wound closed up in less than ten minutes. The cut on my abdomen was bigger, though, and would require more stitches. Twelve, it turned out.
“You really should stay off your feet for a few days,” Sam said as Anna bandaged up the last wound with gauze and tape.
I sat up when she finished, swallowed a grimace, and got to my feet. “I can rest once Elizabeth is safe.”
I had a sudden, driving need to find her, a need to protect her. It wasn’t like what I’d felt with Anna, when the Branch had programmed me to defend her at any cost. This felt different.
It wasn’t an automatic reaction, it was a conscious decision.
I didn’t have to protect her, I wanted to, and that was something I hadn’t felt, ever.
“You barely know this girl,” Sam said as he moved in front of me, blocking my way from around the bed.
“I know her enough.”
The room grew quiet.
“Is she worth risking your life for?”
Was she? I’d been with her less than a week, but it felt like forever. I couldn’t stop replaying that kiss over and over in my head, and the wounded look on her face when I pulled back. I’d never felt any lingering attachment to any girl in the past, but Elizabeth was different.
She saw through all my bullshit and accepted me for who I was, broken pieces and all.
I couldn’t leave her in the hands of the Branch so they could wipe her clean.
I knew jackshit about relationships, but deep down, in the darkest part of me, I knew I needed a girl like Elizabeth. I needed her to save me.
“If it was Anna,” I said to Sam, “would you go?”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Sam,” Anna said. He flinched.
“Whatever reason the Branch had for wanting Elizabeth in the past is still a reason to worry about in the present.” I shoved around him. “So I’m going. With or without you.”
32
ELIZABETH
MOM AND RILEY TOOK ME TO A two-story house on the outskirts of town, crammed onto a small lot on the corner of Apple Street and Sherman Avenue. Children were outside playing in the front yard of the brick house next door when we pulled up. A girl blew bubbles through a wand while her younger brother chased after them, giggling. Their mom sat nearby watching, a magazine open in her lap.
It all seemed so normal, so unlike my life.
Riley hit the garage door opener clipped to his visor and pulled inside a moment later.
“Come on, sweetie,” Mom said, coaxing me out of the car.
Reluctantly, I climbed out, and let Mom lead me through a mudroom and into the kitchen. Two men in plain clothes, with guns at their waists, stood around discussing a recent sports game.
Riley interrupted the conversation and introduced them to me, but I couldn’t be bothered to remember their names. Everything everyone said seemed holl
ow and distant, as if I were underwater and drowning.
I blinked.
I was in the living room now. Sitting. Mom was sitting next to me, her hand threaded with mine.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
I nodded. Yes.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked.
I shook my head. No.
“Pills,” I said, a second later, changing my mind. “My anxiety meds.”
Currently, I was numb inside, but it would only be a matter of time before everything caught up to me, and when it did…
“I’ll have Riley look into it,” she promised.
Riley.
Riley.
That name was familiar. His voice was familiar. Everything about him was familiar except his face.
I blinked again. Tears clouded my vision. I glanced down at the mug of tea that had somehow appeared before me. I hadn’t even heard or seen Mom go out or come back in. I took the cup between my hands, soaking in the warmth because inside I was cold to the core.
Aggie had been shot. Aggie was dead. I was dead.
Drowning.
The old gunshot wound in my chest flared, and my hands started to tingle.
“Pills,” I repeated, but when I looked around the room, I was alone.
I brought the mug up to my mouth, the steam leaving behind a sheen of warmth. I blew across it and inhaled. Earl Grey with a squirt of lemon.
Lemons.
Secrets.
Shh, Mom had said. This is our little secret.
Voices murmured from the kitchen.
Something was wrong.
Something was wrong.
I pulled my cell from my pocket and texted Chloe. Where are you? I wrote. I need you.
My hands trembled as I typed.
The phone buzzed less than a minute later. I quickly navigated to my settings and shut off the vibrate. For some reason, I didn’t want my mom to know I was talking to anyone. Which was crazy, I realized. It was my phone—I wasn’t a prisoner here. Was I?
Just got coffee. At the park, Chloe replied. Come over if you want. Something happen with Nick?
More than something.
I texted, Can you come pick me up? Meet me on the corner of Bryant and Saxton?
What are you doing way out there?
Please. Can you be here in ten minutes?
I’m leaving now. I’ll be there soon.
“Mom?” I called.
She poked her head through the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Yes, honey?”
I saw her face all those years ago, etched with panic, her life threatened, her daughter held captive. There were no mirrors in the building where I’d been kept, but I’d seen my face reflected in glass and steel enough times to know I had looked like a person held captive. Hollow, haunted eyes rimmed in shadows, face washed out, lips dry and cracked, hair disheveled and limp.
And looking at her now I realized one important detail I’d missed back then. Mom had looked the same way she’d always looked. Shoulders level, head held high, complexion perfect, hair perfect, everything perfect.
She hadn’t looked as fraught as I had. She hadn’t looked like a prisoner.
“Can I use the bathroom?” I asked.
“Third door on the left down the hall.”
I nodded. I got up. The walk to the bathroom seemed to take forever. One foot in front of the other. One inch, two inches, hurry up.
As soon as I was inside the bathroom, door shut and locked, I was a flurry of movement. Hurry.
Hurry.
Hurry.
I turned on the faucet and went to the window. The latch came undone easily enough. There was no screen.
Though the window was small compared to the other windows in the house, I was sure I could fit through.
And I did.
I hit the ground on my shoulder and rolled. My head swam.
Up on my feet.
Run, Aggie had said. I ran.
Lungs burning. Someone yelling. A kid yelling.
Just a kid.
Go. Go. Keep going.
I made it to Jefferson Street and turned left. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder. I was running from my mother. My mother who had been gone for six years and shown up out of nowhere. Who had shown up in my kitchen ten minutes before Aggie was dead. Shot by people ambushing the house. People Nick had fought and shot and killed.
Who were those men and woman dressed all in black like they were ready for combat? They couldn’t have been the Branch, otherwise they wouldn’t have attacked Nick, who my mother had said was working for the Branch.
The Branch.
Riley.
And then I realized how I knew that name. Where I knew that voice from.
In the woods.
The night Nick saved me.
Take care of it, the voice had said. It being me.
Riley was the Branch.
And my mother was a part of it.
Chloe picked me up within ten minutes, as promised. She handed me an iced coffee as soon as I slid in beside her.
“You sounded like you needed one,” she said as she pulled away from the curb.
I took a drink. Even though my stomach swam, my throat was raw, and my tongue was like sandpaper in my mouth. Something cold felt good.
Chloe eyed me. “So what happened? You feel like talking about it?”
I didn’t. I wasn’t even sure how to put it into words. Aggie was dead. My mom was back. And she was working for someone who’d ordered Nick to kill me. Unless… I’d been mistaken?
Nothing made sense. Maybe I’d overreacted. Maybe I had been safe with my mom.
“Not yet,” was what I told Chloe. “I just needed to get out of there.”
“Where was ‘there,’ exactly?”
“It was a friend of my mom’s.”
Chloe went silent for a moment as she turned a corner back toward town. “You never talk about your mom.”
“That’s because there hasn’t ever been anything to say.”
I took another sip of my coffee. The liquid ran cold down my throat.
“So anywhere you want to go?” Chloe asked. “Back home?”
My stomach churned. I couldn’t go back there ever again. It had been the only place where I’d ever felt safe after what had happened six years ago. Now it was painted with Aggie’s blood.
“No. Do you feel like just driving?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.” She glanced at me. “Drink some more coffee. You’ll feel better with some caffeine in your system.”
I took another long gulp. Then another, and set the cup in the holder. I curled into the seat and rested my head against the passenger-side window.
My vision thinned and grew fuzzy on the edges. I shot upright. I really was exhausted.
Another sip.
Chloe stopped for a red light, and the traffic passing through the intersection blurred.
My eyelids grew heavy and winked closed. I shook myself awake again.
“If you want to sleep, go ahead,” Chloe said. “I’ll wake you up in a bit.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.” I scrubbed at my eyes. Maybe when I woke, everything would be right again.
I slumped in the seat, propped my head in my hands, my elbow on the armrest.
“Thanks, Chloe,” I mumbled as I let my eyelids win over and slip shut.
“No need to thank me.” She reached over and patted my shoulder. “Get some rest.”
And then I was out.
33
NICK
MY CELL RANG.
“Who is it?” Anna asked.
“It’s Elizabeth.”
We all looked at each other as the phone continued to ring.
“Answer it,” Sam said.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Chloe.”
I let out a breath. “I thought you were Elizabeth.”
“She’s here. With me.”
“She is?” I started to pace and then though
t better of it when a shot of pain ran up my side. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. A little tired. She’s sleeping right now. But…” She trailed off, and I clutched the phone harder.
“But what?”
“She texted me, all hysterical. And then when I picked her up, she didn’t want to talk about it. Did something happen?”
I glanced at Sam, then Anna. Cas and Trev were silent on the couch.
“Can you meet me somewhere?” I asked. “I just want to see her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“What happened, Nick?” There was an edge of suspicion in her voice.
“Something… with her mom. She’s back.”
“Her mom is here? Where?”
“I’ll explain it all later. Where can I meet you?”
She ran off an address for a park in a residential area. I hadn’t been there yet, but I had an idea of how to get there.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” I said.
“We’ll wait here for you.”
“Thanks, Chloe.”
“No worries.”
We hung up, and I relayed the conversation to the group as I tugged on some clothes Sam had given me.
I checked the bullets in my gun and slid it behind my back. “We should go. Now.”
“Wait.” Sam held up his hand. “You sure this isn’t a trap?”
“No. No way. Chloe is a friend of Elizabeth’s. They work together at a restaurant in town. She’s just some girl.”
Sam and Anna shared a look.
“Stop it, you two. I’m going. And I’d like it if you came with. If you don’t want to, fine.”
I started for the door.
“Obviously we’re coming, Nick,” Anna said. “We just want to be sure we’re smart about this.”
I hated it when they ganged up on me.
I didn’t want to wait as we hashed out a plan or dissected all the ways this could go south. I wanted to get to Elizabeth, and I didn’t want to wait another second.
We found Chloe parked along the curb in front of the park. An iron fence surrounded it, with an arched gate on each of the four sides. This park was quieter and smaller than the town’s main park. There was no playground here. No fountain. Just a lot of flowers, bushes, and picnic tables. A couple was spread out on a blanket in a patch of sunlight.
I could make out Elizabeth in the backseat, pressed against the door on the passenger side, her face buried in her hands.
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