Eclipse the Flame

by Ingrid Seymour

  He ignores my question. “I have a test. I need you to draw some blood and show me the result.” He takes something out of his front pocket and tosses it my way. I catch it and give him a questioning look.

  “It’s a test Kristen developed,” he explains. “You’ve taken it before. She’s just made it portable. It will tell me if you’re an Eklyptor or not.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling relieved. This will be a lot easier than I thought. I walk back to the bench and dump the contents of the small bag onto my lap. Two small packets fall out.

  “Prick your finger, fill the capillary tube, put everything back in the bag and throw it back,” Aydan instructs.

  I get right to it, without hesitation. He needs to see I have nothing to hide. Ripping the shorter package open, I take out a small lancet and stab my index finger with it. A gleaming drop of blood beads up. I tear the second package with my teeth, take out the thin capillary tube and touch its tip to the blood. Red rises within the tube’s clear walls like fruit punch through a straw.

  I glance at Aydan. He’s watching me closely, a deep scowl forming a crease between his thick black eyebrows. There are a million questions I’d like to ask him, but I bite them down. His lips are shut tight, holding back the insults and threats a traitor would deserve. I lower my gaze. There’s no trust in his expression. I can’t blame him.

  The tube is full. I place it in the bag and throw it back to Aydan.

  He catches it with one hand and pulls it close to his chest. His other hand is still inside his hoodie. “Stay where you are,” he commands.

  I put my hands up. “I will,” I say. “No sudden moves. Don’t worry.”

  Aydan takes a knee, pulls his hand out of the hoodie and slowly sets a gun on the ground. Taking no chances with my abilities, he steps on the weapon.

  I scoff. “I don’t know if you’ve had better luck than me, but I can’t use my power at will. It comes and goes when it wants to. Your gun’s safe from my so-called telekinesis.”

  He doesn’t respond. Instead, he gets to work on testing my blood. I have the feeling he’s probably mastered his electrifying powers by now. He has no problem with meditation. More than ever, I don’t dare do it on my own, not after Azrael made her unwelcome appearance.

  I look away and stare at the skyline across Lake Union; the clouds have cleared a little, revealing Mount Rainier in the distance, a giant silhouette that seems to somehow float over the haze. Closer, the city glows electric under the dark firmament. The Space Needle seeming taller than any other structure from this angle. The eerie sound of screams appears to travel on the breeze. How many are suffering? How many are praying to be spared the horror? How many think even begging God is hopeless?

  We. Humans. Masters and rulers of the Earth.

  Have we truly come to an end? Has our cruelty met its match?

  We’ve endured so much, built so much, destroyed so much. Maybe it is our turn to face destruction. Maybe we deserve it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aydan stand. The gun is back in his hand and this time he’s pointing it at me. My eyes move from the weapon to the discarded testing implements on the ground, to his face. I get to my feet, hands still up in the air.

  “You lying, bitch.” His hand shakes. His face contorts with disgust and the same brand of doubt I saw in James’s face when he was strangling me.

  “Wait!” I exclaim.

  I failed the test? Why? How?

  “If I failed the test, then it isn’t working. Don’t shoot, please. I swear, Aydan. It’s me. It’s me.” Whatever levels the test is checking are probably still high in my system. Or maybe it’s looking for antibodies released when the agent took over. If that’s the case, then I’ll forever test positive. Aydan is smart, though, he must know this.

  “I figured it was a lie, but I had to be sure.”

  “I’m not lying! Something’s wrong with the—”

  “You gave us away to Elliot,” he cuts me off. “You killed Oso. You took Marci.” His voice breaks. “That’s why I came … I came to kill you.”

  And with that, Aydan pulls the trigger.

  Chapter 36

  Time stands still, milliseconds stretching into millennia.

  My hand goes up in a weird salute meant to block the inevitable.

  “NO!” I yell.

  A loud pop echoes in my ears, hollow but fierce. My instincts refuse this, but I think maybe it’s better this way, so I shut my eyes and brace myself.

  One million years pass. Then two.

  My fingers curl. Confused, I lower my arm, fist clenched around something hot. Shaking, I look into my palm. The bullets rest there, burning my skin. I tilt my hand and drop the projectiles to the ground, choking on my own astonishment.

  Aydan’s face twists in horror. “Aren’t you just full of lies? It seems you can use your powers just fine.”

  “No,” I say in a whisper, my eyes on the grass and the slugs at my feet. “Not at will. Only sometimes. When a life is at stake. Do you … do you think I would still have powers if I was an Eklyptor?” I try to puzzle it out in an impassive, logical way. “The Symbiotic relationship would be broken, right?” I have no idea how it would work. This is unprecedented.

  Aydan steps back, still threatening me with the gun.

  “No, don’t leave,” I plead. “You have to listen to me.”

  But he doesn’t. He keeps moving away, dragging what’s left of my hope with him.

  At the sight of his retreating figure, anger made out of pure impotence overpowers me, making my whole body quake. With the heat of the slugs still in my hand, I imagine the gun flying out of Aydan’s grip. Astonished no longer, I watch the weapon sail across the night and into the waters of Lake Union. He curses, turns tail and runs. I sprint after him, thinking he stands no chance in a race against me. He’s just a geeky hacker who’s desk-bound from dusk until dawn.

  He runs up the steep mount in the back of the park, the one they created for people to fly kites. I hike behind him, slipping on the dew-coated grass, touching my hands to the ground to help me stay up right. He gains several yards on me.

  “STOP,” I yell. He only runs faster.

  Crap! He’s not slow at all. I push upward as hard as I can. When I reach the top, I see that he’s doubled the distance between us.

  “Stop,” I yell again but, this time, I imagine him tripping. And, to my relief, he falls and lands against the concrete sundial that paves the top of the mount. He scrambles to his feet and starts to run again, except I’ve slowed him down just enough to catch up.

  I haul myself against him and wrap my arms around his waist. We land hard on the other side of the mount and roll, one on top of the other, down the hill. As we slow, I maneuver him so I end up on top and straddle his hips. He bucks like a wild horse, trying to throw me off.

  I block his punches and clamp my legs around him. “Just stop, will you?” I scream, doing my best to catch his eye, but he’s beside himself with anger and hatred. He’s not thinking. Not at all.

  In one quick move, I slip a hand between his wind-milling arms and slap him across the cheek. He slows down, but only a bit, so I slap him again, jump off him and take a fighting stance.

  “You can get up,” I say, “but if you fight me or try to run, you’re going down again. You may be a fast runner, but unless you know karate or can zap me with your electric powers, you need to stop and listen.”

  Aydan watches me from the ground, blinking as if I’m blurry and he’s trying to get me into focus. He stands without breaking eye contact. His black hair curls over his brow. He wipes sweat off his forehead and pushes the obstruction aside. His chest heaves up and down.

  “I’m not armed,” I say. “I came alone. I just released you.” I point demonstratively at the ground to remind him. Slowly, I abandon my fighting stance, holding my palms up to show him I mean to be peaceful.

  “I know there’s no way for me to prove I’m not one of them,” I say. “I wish the test
had helped erase your doubts, but clearly it only works if you’ve never been eclipsed.”

  He frowns at the new word but knows exactly what I mean.

  I run a cold hand over my heated forehead. “But, trust me, it’s inaccurate if you have been. However that test works, it’s never been used on someone like me and you well know it. So don’t go putting all your faith in it.

  “If you want concrete proof that me, Marci, is still in control of this body, there is none. You’re just gonna have to trust me and the fact that I haven’t killed you.”

  A muscle in Aydan’s jaw jumps. One of his dark eyes narrows as he takes a moment to think. Finally he says, “You haven’t killed me because it isn’t me Elliot wants, it’s James. But I won’t help you. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  What? He came without letting James know? Really? I guess James would have probably brought a sniper, if our last encounter is any indication of how dead he wants to make me. Or, at least, he would have forbidden an encounter. So I guess Aydan’s telling the truth.

  Why would he take a risk like this?

  “Okay,” I say. “Um, that’s good, ’cause I don’t want anything from you. On the contrary, I have something for you.” Making my movements as gentle and obvious as possible, I pull the thumb drive from my pocket and hold it out gingerly.

  “I told you the truth in my note. After what happened at The Tank,” I say, lowering my gaze with shame, “they took me back to Elliot. By then, I had fought my way back, but I didn’t let on that anything had changed, and they still believe I’m one of them.” I pause and swallow. “I realize everything that happened is my fault.”

  Aydan smirks. His expression conveys a clear message, “I don’t buy your act.”

  I press on, telling myself I would behave the same way if I was in his shoes. “If I’d been strong enough, if I’d been able to stop the agent from taking over, Oso would still be alive.” I press a hand to my temple, fighting back tears. If I cry, Aydan will think it’s part of some twisted performance, so I can’t. I can’t be weak any longer.

  My words keep coming in spite of the knot in my throat. “I was ready to give up, but when I found myself back with Elliot, I resolved not to. Aydan, I’m on the inside and I’ve gained access to his network. This thumb drive has what I’ve been able to collect so far. It’s not much because it took me a while to get everything set up. And, as soon as I did, my priority was to find you. But now that everything’s in place, I’ll be able to find out more. There must be something we can use against them.”

  Aydan eyes pierce me like bullets. “You’re telling me that in an entire week all you’ve managed to do is get a thumb drive with not much in it? That’s likely.”

  His know-it-all demeanor rubs me the wrong way like it always has. I take a deep breath and tell myself that at least he’s listening and not trying to run.

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence,” I say.

  He scoffs.

  “Hey, under normal circumstances, sure, I would have it all mapped out,” I add. “But I had to start from zero and I can’t use the computer whenever I want to. I have to sneak around. There’s always someone watching. But I can probably be in the building’s security system by tomorrow. There are a few servers with extra safety measures around them. That must be where they keep all the stuff to control the alarms, the cameras and who knows what else.

  “For now, I found the blueprints to the building, delivery schedules for next week, daily menus, stuff like that. Here, take it.” I offer him the thumb drive. When he doesn’t take it, I aim at his face and throw it. He catches it on instinct.

  “Yeah, really useful stuff.” He has the condescension and twist of his mouth down to a science. He should probably patent the sentiment. “Eau de Aydan, sneer like no other!”

  “Use your imagination. That can be very useful, if you’re trying to poison them.”

  “That’s twisted.” There is a certain tone of approval in his voice. I can feel the scale tipping in my direction. Please, please.

  “Just make sure to let me know, so I can skip taco night,” I joke.

  Aydan is quiet for a long moment. One of his eyelids twitches, and I tell myself it’s because his thoughts are whirling, trying to come up with logical reasons not to trust me.

  Finally, he says, “Let’s say I believe you,” he starts.

  My chest tightens with a surge of emotion. Does he? Does he really believe me?

  “No one else will. In their minds you … Marci is gone, just like Oso.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. The secrets you gave away about Symbiots … Whitehouse made sure IgNiTe heard about that.”

  “Oh.” But why am I surprised? Anything less wouldn’t be worthy of Elliot’s evil.

  “Thanks to you there’s distrust in our ranks, and we have to be more careful than ever. After all of that, they hate you, Marci.”

  He said they not we. It almost hurts to hope I might have one ally. He can help me convince the others once I’ve proved myself. My legs feel weak. Overcome with emotion, I turn to face Seattle’s skyline and let myself collapse on the grass—my back to Aydan.

  “I’ve got nothing else to make life worth living. There’s only payback. For Xave, my brother, my mother, Oso. The whole freaking world.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek. I fight the urge to swat it clean and give away the fact that I’m crying, falling apart like the weak little girl I refuse to be. The droplet tickles as it slides down to my chin. The breeze dries its moisture.

  Aydan says nothing, but I feel his depthless gaze on me.

  I’m dying to change the subject, to let my emotions cool and Aydan’s rekindled trust grow. So I ask the first thing that comes to mind, “Talking about my family, did Kristen have time to analyze Mom and Luke’s DNA?”

  He takes a deep breath as if ready to offer an answer but, again, he says nothing.

  I peer over my shoulder. There’s a certain look in his eyes that sets me on edge. It’s a mixture of pity and indecision.

  “What?” I ask. “She did, didn’t she?” I stand and face him.

  His gaze wanders away, gliding over the surface of the lake. Tiny lights glint in his black irises as if somehow the bright skyline has shrunk and gotten lost in his eyes.

  He nods once without looking at me. “There was no match.”

  “No match? What do you mean?”

  Aydan sighs. “Kristen said that … that you’re not related.”

  And, even though I feared something bad, the revelation still breaks me inside. My real twin is still missing. Max is, once more, the infant who was stolen from his family.

  My real brother is, once more, an unsolved mystery.

  Chapter 37

  The knowledge sits with me for only a moment before I start to question it. “No DNA match? None at all?” I ask.

  Aydan looks like he has something else to say, but I’m too lost in my own reasoning.

  “But, Luke looks so much like Mom. How is that possible?” I ask.

  “Because,” Aydan answers in a very quiet, very careful tone, “because he is her son.”

  I shake my head. “You’re making no sense.”

  He lifts an eyebrow and inclines his head, prompting me to think a little deeper about what he just said.

  “Wait, you mean … you mean I am not her daughter.” I wanted it to be a question, but in the end my tone flattened, hammered down by the weight of a deeply seeded understanding, a truth that, somehow, I’ve always known in some deep part of my mind.

  “You are no match to Luke or Karen,” Aydan clarifies.

  I grab my head, raking stiff fingers into my hair. “What the hell?” My mouth opens and closes, taking in air to form words, but finding nothing to say.

  Finally, Aydan’s pity wins and he finds it in himself to say the things that I can’t even babble.

  “None of it makes any sense. The whole situation is crazy. We all discuss
ed it and can’t come up with any explanations for Hailstone’s interest in your family. James had me look up birth and police records, also news articles. Your mother gave birth to a male and a female on December 3rd at Northwest Hospital and Medical Center. The male was born first, followed by the female, ten minutes later. The male had complications, was taken to the neonatal care unit. The female required no such care. The male, Maximilian Victor Guerrero, was abducted eight hours after birth. The female remained safe with her mother and father. On paper, Marcela Victoria Guerrero went home with Brian Scott Guerrero and Karen Guerrero and has lived at the same address her entire life. On paper, you are Karen’s daughter, but biologically … There’s zero percent chance you’re related.”

  Which, of course, means Luke isn’t my brother either. We are not related in spite of the connection I feel with him, a connection I must have imagined. And then there’s …

  “Dad,” I say, and it’s strange that all the pain I feel is for the parent I lost ten years ago—not for the one I was living with just days ago. If Karen isn’t my mother, does that mean Dad wasn’t …?

  I can’t even finish the thought. He’s the only parent I ever felt close to. “I look just like Dad, though,” I whisper and can hear the loss in my own voice. And I hate, that on top of everything else I’ve lost, I’m also to lose my identity? My heritage?

  “Without his DNA, there’s no way to confirm or deny paternity,” Aydan says, trying to be helpful, but adding salt to the wound instead.

  I grasp at straws. “He was Hispanic. I look Hispanic. He has to be my father. It just …”

  It just … nothing. It means nothing that we share traits such as skin, hair and eye color. Millions of people do. How could I be his daughter and not Karen’s?

  It makes no sense. My life’s inside a tumbler, rolling down a steep hill.

  But I can’t accept it. “So they didn’t just lose a son?” I say. “They also lost their real daughter? Was I switched? Is the real Marcela Guerrero somewhere out there?” I point toward the city. “It’s like a freakin’ soap opera.”