Alliance

by Leigh, Trisha

  “Whoa. Slow down, Norah, you’re leaping while I’m still taking baby steps.” He runs a hand through his sandy hair, revealing greasy roots. It must have been at least a few days since he’s had a wash. “I’ve known what I am and where I came from since I was about seven. My father knew for longer.”

  “But he’s not your father.”

  “Not technically. I’m adopted. Noah Greene, that big-hearted loon, is in jail because he wanted to know where the boy he adopted came from and stumbled on way more than he could handle.”

  “How did he find out where you came from? What they did to you?” The suspicion pushing on my insides, forcing its way out, is black and oily. Gross. But if not trusting people is the only way to survive, so be it. “Surely the government hid those records.”

  “Of course they did. But my father didn’t trust the representative from the Department of Family Services who came to check on me every three months at first, then every six—and of course, he was right. She was CIA. My father hasn’t always been an obsessed borderline psychotic, but he has always been a reporter. He’s got a nose for it, like it’s his calling, and he started digging.” Jude shrugs, but it’s easy to see that not one syllable is being said without cost. “It didn’t take him long to figure out something weird was going on, especially when the state claimed they’d never sent anyone to our house. It kind of snowballed from there. Real records led him to Saint Catherine’s once he found the name of my birth mother, and to Darley from there. To you.”

  “So you and Dane were working together, spying on Reaper and me.” Bile rises in the back of my throat thinking about how he made me feel. The way he kissed me. “Who are the others? The agents pretending to be friends with the other Cavies?”

  “No. The CIA didn’t know who I was until the incident at the warehouse. I confessed in an attempt to trade myself for my father. To show them that I’m the only reason he couldn’t stay out of it.” His eyes grow warm, rake my face with an intensity that heats me up from the inside. “I knew what you were because you came from Darley, but it didn’t—doesn’t—have anything to do with the way I feel about you.”

  Despite everything else he’s said in the past ten minutes, those are the words that lodge in my heart. That feel like blessed honesty, that jam emotion into my throat until it throbs.

  I stare at him and he stares back, eyes dipping to my lips.

  I lick them, then clear my throat and hope it will transfer to my head. “How could they not know who you are? You just said they’ve been keeping tabs on you since you were a kid.”

  Jude appears startled at the change in subject, as though someone dumped cold water on him in the middle of a dream. He manages to accept it after a deep breath. “As soon as my father learned the truth, he convinced my mother we needed to go into hiding. We changed our names, they changed professions, they had my sister. I was three.”

  The light dawns. “That’s when you moved to Charleston. Met Maya.”

  He nods, reaching for me again. My hand is under the sheet and he rests his on top of it. As hard as I try to force my hand to pull away, it takes me a full thirty seconds to make it happen.

  “So when did you find out about the other Siphons?” I ask, needing to move away from the question of Jude and me and how we relate to each other now with more untruths and new distance between us.

  “The same time I found out what I was. My father found Darley, but he also started looking into the traditional adoptions coming out of Saint Catherine’s. That’s when he found the others like me. Since the majority of them are older—I’m the first defective in over ten years—the government was already well aware of what I could do.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you are last semester? Why did you lie just a few days ago when I asked why the CIA was so keen on letting you go?”

  “We’re not so different, Norah. We’ve both spent out lives hiding. I suspected you didn’t know about the Siphons and I didn’t know what you would think about me. About everything.” He leans forward, his hand brushing mine with the softest of touches. “I should have told you when you first showed up.”

  “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for not pouring out your biggest secret to a perfect stranger.”

  “I admit that, at first, the chance to get to know someone at least sort of like me for the first time in my life was intriguing.” He smiles, and it’s the first open expression he’s showed me in this room. “You were intriguing, and it had very little to do with a few tweaks to your genome.”

  A blush creeps up my neck and into my cheeks, baffling me further. This time when my fingers explore the wound on my jaw, I find it’s almost scabbed over.

  “You still look beautiful. With or without electrodes, in my opinion.” He gives me a wink, and it’s so Jude my heart actually leaps in my chest.

  I don’t know what all this means. For Jude and me, for the Cavies. For what we’re fighting for, who we’re fighting against.

  “Okay, so the Siphons want to get rid of the Cavies, that part I buy. And maybe I even agree that the CIA used this whole mission to use us as bait. But this computer virus is real, and the Siphons just stopped us from completing our mission to try to stop it. Are they involved? Or is the whole damn thing just a red herring?”

  Jude shakes his head, directing his eyes toward the ceiling. “I don’t know the answer to that, Norah, but I’d be more than a little interested in helping you figure it out.”

  Before I formulate a response the plane pitches sideways, tossing us both to the floor. The horrible screech of an emergency siren, like fingernails down a blackboard, assaults my ears. The lights flash, as my breath catches and terror shoots through me, and the sick bay goes dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The plane evens out as the emergency lights come on, casting the compartment in a ghoulish green glow. Jude looks at me, and I scramble to my feet, ignoring the twinges of pain.

  “I don’t know. What’s happening?”

  “We boarded the plane and left Reaper and the other long-term Assets to take care of the Siphons. Everything was under control.” Jude heads to the door.

  I pull the rest of the tape and gauze away from my face and hands so I can follow him. There are still visible marks where the glass sliced me up, but they’ll be invisible sooner than later, thanks to the GRH-18. Which I’m now glad we decided to keep taking.

  Jude’s got the door cracked and is peering into the hallway. I come up behind him as another loud boom drives a shudder through the aircraft. The floor vibrates under the soles of my feet and my fingers curl on instinct, wrinkling Jude’s shirt. “What is that?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go find the others.”

  The hallway is short—the plane is quite a few steps above a commercial jet, I’d guess, but it’s still a plane—and we make it to the main cabin in a dozen steps. The others are there, standing with their faces pressed against the windows. They clutch the slick walls in fruitless efforts to keep their footing as another blast rocks the plane. This time, with the windows in my line of sight, the accompanying fireball burns the backs of my eyes.

  “What’s happening? Who’s out there?” My question is breathless, as though the burst of flame sucked all the oxygen out of me, too.

  Mole turns my direction, shuffling over as fast as he can on unsteady legs, and wraps his hands around my forearms. “The Siphons.”

  “What? How?”

  “We don’t know. They must be borrowing a flying ability from someone.”

  Jude goes white. “The third Older, the one who was with Becca and Tate, he can fly.”

  “Pan?” Pollyanna’s eyes go wide. “He didn’t tell us.”

  “The Assets must not have been able to hold the ground,” Goose mutters. I can tell he’s wishing that his nickname was given for more than just speed and that he could fly like a goose, too.

  The fireball comes again, thrown with more force this time, and more alarms begin a deafening s
hriek. The plane’s nose dips toward the ground and my knees hit the carpet. “Where’s Dane?”

  “With the pilots,” Haint answers, her voice raw, like terror wraps rough hands around her throat. “Oh sweet Jesus, we’re going to die.”

  I want to reassure them, but Madeline’s warning that the future can change stuffs my mouth with cotton.

  Dane bursts out of the cockpit, and even though he’s got on the same calm, trust me face he wears most of the time, there’s bad news. I can see it in the way he swallows and how he won’t meet my eyes. “The pilots are helpless. You guys need to do something.”

  “What?” Athena demands. “What can we do trapped inside this giant speeding bullet?”

  “This plane is going down. Both engines are on fire and they can’t put it out.”

  The words tickle, dig their way past my clothes and rub against my skin, spinning faster until the friction sounds like shouting. Ringing in my head louder than the alarms.

  We’re still flying over dry land and the plane is going to crash. With us on it.

  “Parachutes?” Jude asks, looking as stricken as I feel.

  Dane shakes his head. “Not enough for everyone. Five, I think.”

  Another boom and another flash of light interrupt the brainstorming, and the sound of our collective ragged breath is almost louder than the racket the Siphons are churning up outside. Once they’re sure the plane is going to crash, will they leave us alone? At least then we can focus on surviving without having to worry about evading them on the way down.

  “Inventory. Can any of you come up with a single way to use your mutation to get us safely off this plane?”

  I shake my head, but everyone already knows my answer. Athena’s hearing isn’t going to do any good, either.

  The plane shudders, the grinding of gears setting my teeth on edge. It nudges into a sharper decline as I feel the pilots trying to slow it down. We all grab on to seat backs to keep from tumbling around the cabin.

  Goose can probably get himself out. Mole’s fire…nothing comes to mind. Pollyanna’s worthless in this situation. Haint, too. Being invisible isn’t going to save her from splattering like the rest of us. And Jude can only do what we can do.

  I curse us for not asking Madeline about sharing abilities when she showed up in Charleston.

  “I can do it,” Geoff says, quiet but sure. “I can lift the plane. Set it down.”

  “Are you sure?” Dane asks.

  “It’s a lot of weight,” Goose shouts over the racket, catching Geoff’s gaze. He’s saying what we’re all thinking—Geoff’s still new at this. He’s never tried lifting anything like a plane, something that weighs tons and is hurtling toward the ground.

  Now’s not the time to tiptoe around Geoff’s feelings, but the truth is, I’m not sure what options we have.

  “I can help him.” Jude’s jaw sets in a determined line. “I can use his power and we can do it together.”

  “When you…borrow our powers, it doesn’t lessen the original Cavy’s strength?” There are so many questions. That’s just the first one that comes to mind.

  “No. Not as far as I can tell.” Jude glances at Dane. “He’d probably be able to tell you more.”

  Dane shakes his head, ignoring the accusatory edge in Jude’s statement. “No. As far as we know the Siphon copies your abilities. They don’t steal them, not in the traditional sense of the word.”

  “You guys didn’t feel your power lessen before when they were using them against us at the airfield, right?” Mole waits for confirmation and one by one, everyone adds their agreement. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get as many of us off this plane as we can before we try this, because we do have five parachutes and we shouldn’t risk more than we have to, not to mention having less of us onboard will make it easier for Geoff and Jude.” He waits, but no one interjects. “Okay. The pilots and Dane, you take three of the parachutes because you don’t have any other options. I’ll take a fourth and Gypsy can come with me. Jude will take the other and bring along Pollyanna.”

  Jude’s eyebrows pull together, then pop toward his hairline as he figures out Mole’s reasoning. “We can use them like hot air balloons! Use your heat and the air outside to drift down faster and make sure we land safely.”

  Mole nods, his muscles tight. “Goose, if you think you can get to the ground so fast that it will somehow negate the distance, try it. That leaves Athena and Haint on the plane.”

  “I’m not leaving without my brother,” Goose insists through gritted teeth.

  Mole hesitates, but only for a second. “It’s your call if you want to stay aboard, since you’re not responsible for anyone else. But there might be trouble on the ground, and Jude’s going to be busy helping Geoff with the plane. That only leaves me and Pollyanna to defend us, because the pilots and Dane probably won’t wind up near us with those parachutes.”

  The plane dives steeper, the whine of the engines making it impossible to talk or hear. Mole shouts something, maybe a go or do it, and then Dane reaches back into the cockpit and comes out with the parachutes. Mole takes one and unfurls it, then does the same to a second and hands it to Jude.

  Dane and Athena grab on to the emergency exit, but it doesn’t come loose until Goose goes to help. The plane becomes a wind tunnel, and we hold on for fear of getting swept along the aisle, banging our heads, or worse. My stomach roils from the bumpy, sharp descent and it occurs to me that we’re out of time for planning. We’ll be lucky if we can get Jude on the ground before he needs to help Geoff set the plane down.

  “We’ve got to go!” I scream at Mole over the sound. Maybe I didn’t see any of us dying today, but now’s not the time to rest on my laurels.

  He nods, then shouts toward Jude. “This is going to be more like a skydive. Use the hot air to billow the parachute at the last minute.”

  I don’t want to think about what happens if either of them miscalculates the elusive last minute, but trusting Mole is second nature. The look on Pollyanna’s face, a swirl of horror, fear, and doubt, reminds me she doesn’t feel the same way about Jude.

  “We don’t have a choice, Polly,” I tell her. “It’s this or potentially crash.”

  “I think I’d rather trust Geoff,” is what I think she says, but if so, it doesn’t stop her from securing her arms around Jude’s neck, her feet locked around his waist, as he folds up the parachute, the pack tight on his back. Right before he jumps, our eyes lock. Then he’s gone.

  I mold my body to Mole’s, even in this moment thankful that we’re fully clothed, no skin touching skin. After seeing Pollyanna’s and Goose’s deaths, I know I can handle it if I do happen to see something I shouldn’t, but I don’t want to. I take one last look at my friends, refusing to entertain the idea that I’ll never see them again, and then we’re falling.

  It’s so loud I almost think I’ve gone deaf. The air rips at my clothes, yanks on my limbs in an attempt to disconnect me from Mole. The world stops moving, and even though I know we’re falling, it doesn’t feel like it. Mole’s left arm squeezes my ribs so hard they might crack, but I wouldn’t complain even if I could breathe.

  The time that passes feels like forever and a split second at the same time. Then Mole lets go of the parachute. It stops us, but then he uses his mutation to heat the air more, then less, so that we move swiftly toward the ground. I can see Jude and Polly below us now, moving expertly as though Jude’s been using heated air to fly himself around town for years. They land on the ground moments before my feet hit the earth, then my knees. A perfect landing in a large clearing outside a giant forest. Or maybe the clearing is in the forest. It’s impossible to tell from here.

  I stay there, bent over with my arms up to my elbows in snow, pants soaking through and thinking, Holy lord, I am alive. Seeing my survival to old age in a vision and surviving that drop are two very different things, and this one feels way better.

  I might have stayed that way much long
er, thanking the heavens and convincing myself it all worked out, if a group of three people hadn’t walked out of the tree line and thrown a massive ball of fire right toward us.

  Mole’s hands find my chest and he pushes as hard as he can, throwing us far enough apart that the flames only skim the bottoms of my feet. He scrambles up, tossing fireballs of his own the direction of the threat. The three dodge them easily as Pollyanna gets up and untangles herself from Jude.

  “Track the plane!” Mole shouts toward Jude. “You have to help Geoff.”

  Jude hesitates, looking from me to Pollyanna to Mole, then to the half a dozen assholes intent on killing perfect strangers instead of finding our common ground. There’s nothing I can do to help Polly and Mole. I’ll probably be more of a burden—especially if the empath gets to me again—but if I go, it’s two against three.

  “Go,” I tell Jude. “I’m staying.”

  There’s fire everywhere but nothing for it to latch on to since we’re surrounded by acres of pure, white snow. I wonder where we are, figuring somewhere over central Europe, not that it matters. Pollyanna’s determined face turns grim as she focuses, and one of the people advancing slows down as though they’re confused.

  Then Polly walks toward them. Slow, dazed, definitely not herself. Not protecting herself.

  “Pollyanna, stop!”

  She pauses at my shriek but not for long. Without a second thought, I leap toward her, digging my fingers into the hem of her jacket, and we both tumble facefirst into the snow. One of the Siphons goes up in flames, howling and beating at his hands and arms, and Mole rushes in our direction but not quite toward us.

  “Over here!” I yell again as Pollyanna struggles to get away from me, still under the control of the Siphon borrowing her power.

  Mole corrects, following the sound of my voice instead of veering to the left, but then his legs explode with fire.

  “Drop!” I shout.

  He listens to me, rolling around in the snow until the flames are extinguished. The delay gives one of the two remaining Siphons leverage and he darts forward, snagging Pollyanna by the hair and yanking her out of my hands.