by Stacey Nash
“Yes.”
A smile warms my face as we port then land with a thud on spongy grass. A quick glance around tells me we’re standing behind the weapons store with the clash of metal on metal ringing through the night air. I raise a questioning brow at Cynnie. She nods. “Now we wait until Kalon leaves.”
We crouch in the dark for what feels like forever. The moments stretch into an eternity. Cynnie grabs my hand, pulling it away from my mouth. “Why are you nervous?”
“I’ve got so much to tell him and I don’t know how he’ll take it.”
“It will be okay.” She brushes a stray curl out of her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
I shake my head even though I’m smiling. “It’s not like that. It’s about something more important.” He looks at me?
“He knows your secret?”
“He’s about to know it all.”
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know why, but I feel I could trust him with my life. The ringing of sword fight ceases and I can hear them talking. “Thanks for today.”
My tummy flutters at the sound of his voice.
“You too. See you tomorrow,” Kalon calls out.
Cynnie touches my arm, drawing my attention back to her. She holds up her hand, indicating I should wait. I nod and she rises, disappearing around the side of the store. My thumb finds my mouth again and I chew so hard it hurts, but it’s good. It eases my anxious mind.
A few moments later Joshua appears. He holds his hand out and I grab it, letting him pull me to my feet. A crease appears between his brows. “What is it?”
“We need some time alone to talk.”
“Sure.”
He moves into the darkness, guiding me with our held hands. It feels so natural, so pleasant I don’t pull away, just squeeze my hand around his. We walk about the edge of the building to a huge tree shrouding a stone bench in dark shadows. He indicates I should sit and taking a seat, I tug on his hand. He lowers himself onto the seat beside me.
As I look into his shadowed face, I finally feel safe from Nik. Not that I can’t handle him alone, but it feels good to have this guy at my side. My muscles sag under the weight of the past twenty-four hours. Joshua’s intense eyes flick back and forth across my face and with a slight frown, he grabs my shoulders pulling me to him. I bury my face in his neck inhaling the smell of tree, sweat, training, and boy.
“Jax.” I pinch my bottom lip in my teeth.
He tightens his arms around me. “You look terrible. What is it?”
I inhale another deep breath of him.
“I wish I knew how you know that name,” he says.
“I think I might know.”
He drops his arms and pulls back, shooting me a troubled look which is out of place of his face.
“I don’t belong here and neither do you.” There, it’s out.
“Under this tree?”
I flick him with the back of my hand and smile. “In this community with these people.” It’s time. I pause for a long beat. “We’re not Collective.”
“Of course we are. I belong here and so do you.”
“Think about it, really think about it,” I say. Please let him see.
“I’ve been here all my life. I was born and raised here, my family live here.”
“Why do you belong here? Give me something specific.”
The furrow between his brows returns. “I’ve been going to this school since I was a kid. Over there.” He points to the window of the Collective History classroom. “I broke that window with my first shot of the stars. Smashed the glass and gave the class of final years a bit of a fright.” A half smile appears on his face.
“How old were you?”
“I don’t know, nine maybe. Then over there.” He points to the transport bay. “I rode a transporter on my own for the first time. I pressed the wrong thing and it took off without the barriers up. I fell off and the entire school laughed. Nik’s never let me live it down.”
“Age?”
“The same year. Nine.”
I raise my brows, indicating I want more. This is working out like I expected.
“And by the willow.” He points in the direction of the gaping hole in the fence. “Xane and I snuck out and took ourselves on an ‘agent mission’ to find me a new pet. You know, there are only cats here, and I wanted a dog.”
I raise my brows again.
“Eleven.”
“All the memories you’re giving me are from years ago. Hit me with one from the last few years.”
He stares into the darkness and lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it.
“Think really hard.”
“I always think hard.” He looks up at me through his super long lashes and smirks.
“Last year, who did you spend your birthday with?” I ask.
He looks down again and cups his forehead with a hand. Finally he says, “Nik, Xane, my father. Xane came over and hung out, like he always does. We had cake—Bia made it.”
“Bia?”
“Yeah, you know father’s security. The woman that lives at our house.”
“Xane at your house? Rake-woman baking cake?” I flick my bangs out of my eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense. No one visits the house. In fact, I’m certain we’re not allowed to have visitors, like ever. And Bia? Baking?”
No answer.
I want to smile because it’s true. I was right, his memory’s been messed with too—maybe altered instead of wiped—but I keep my face composed. “You’ve only just come back here, right? So where were you?”
He looks up at me through his lashes again but the smirk is replaced with a scowl. “I was …” He frowns. “I think I was …”
“Cynnie says you spent the past six years living with your aunt at another Collective Community. Which one?”
“That’s where I was. My dad’s sister, aunt … aunt Freida?” Screwing up his nose, he raises his head and drags a hand through his scruffy hair, which just flops right back down over his forehead. “I don’t think my dad has a sister, and who the heck is Frieda?”
These are definitely fake memories. “Which agoge? South America, Africa …?” Collective History class paid off. I pause, giving him a chance to answer. He doesn’t. “Europe, Asia, Russia, Emirates?” I pause again and look into his eyes to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t meet my eyes.
“You can’t remember, can you? I think your memories have been replaced with fake ones.”
“I … I’d know if my memory wasn’t right. Six years is …”
“Then come on, try. Try as hard as you can to break through it, Jax.”
He slides back on the seat, putting more distance between us. “Stop it, Mae!”
Bingo.
I wait, watching confusion flit over his face as he takes in the message I’m trying to give him. After a few moments his expression smoothes and I draw in a deep breath, readying myself to make him see. When it’s clear he’s not going to speak, I take the lead.
“Why did you call me that?”
“I don’t know. It just kind of slips out sometimes.” His voice wavers like it’s about to crack.
I continue looking right at him. He needs to see me for who I really am, not who he assumes I am. “We’ve known each other before.”
He blows air out in a half-huff, half-laugh. “Is this that déjà vu crap again?”
I don’t speak for a few moments. He needs to ease into this.
“Do you have any feelings for me?”
“Plenty.” The ghost of a smile crosses his face but quickly disappears.
I feel my cheeks warm. “That’s not what I mean. Think about me, really think about me.”
“I know it’s not, but it was funny.” He half smiles again.
“Well?”
He looks up, his eyes meets mine for a brief moment then flit away. “I feel a connection to you. Protecting you is important. I want t
o keep Nik away from you and when that guy kissed you … I just feel like I’ve done it all before.”
I take his hand, sandwiching it between both of mine. The contact zaps up my arm, and I suck in a shaky breath.
“I don’t belong here. I’m not Collective.” I pause giving him time to take in my words. “I think we’ve been together. That we came from the same place.”
“I feel like I do belong here, my history is rooted in this place … but at the same time I feel like … I mean, I know on a deep level there’s history between us too.”
Hell yeah. Progress.
“I challenge you to remember anything since you left here when you were eleven that doesn’t feel somehow … off,” I say. “Related to me or not.”
He glances away and drags a hand through his hair again, ruffling the chestnut waves into an unkempt mess. He looks in the other direction, tugs at his sleeve then untangles his hand from mine, moving both hands through his hair again.
I wait.
More hand-hair combing while he glances around the darkness.
“By the Founders, you’re right. It all feels … wrong.” He still doesn’t look me in the eye. “Then what happened? Where was I?”
I caution myself to go slowly, uncertain of how he’ll react to my next bombshell. This is the big one; huger than the massive house we live in. “I don’t belong here. I’m not Collective,” I repeat, hoping the words stick. I swallow and wait a few moments before dropping the biggie. “I think I’m from the group we fought—resistance.”
He slides further away on the seat again so he’s just balancing on the edge.
It’s okay, be brave. He can handle it.
“It started with no memories. I woke up in the infirmary and didn’t know where or who I was. Everything around me felt foreign, even stuff that was supposed to be mundane. I didn’t recognize a single person until I saw you at school that first day and then saw that guy at the science lab. You’ve been the only familiar faces in a sea of no memories.”
Still as the stone bench we sit on, he stares at me without so much as blinking.
“They told me I’d had a nasty bump to the head, that Nik knocked me out cold in training, and for ages I believed that’s why I was sick. Why I couldn’t remember a damn thing.”
I pause again, letting him take it in.
“Then that day you called me Mae, and later he called me by that name too. Since then, feelings and memories have trickled back into place, and they’re still coming.”
He hangs his head and scrubs a hand across his forehead.
“Do you know how the barrier around this community works? Why I got stuck?”
“Collective blood …” he mumbles.
“I can’t have it, Jax, but you must.”
He shakes his head. “It trapped you …”
“You go by the name of Jax Belfry.” I’m not sure where the last name came from. It just kind of tacked itself onto the end of my sentence. “Manvyke’s your father and Nikias is your brother, but you aren’t one of them. You’re one of us. I don’t know how I know this, but every day I grow more certain of it.”
And I think I loved you.
“That was my mother’s maiden name …” he says it so softly, I can barely hear him.
I stand. It’s time to give him space. He needs to mull over all that I’ve told him. “I have to get back to my room before Nik notices I’m gone.”
He raises a questioning brow. “Why would Nik care if you’re gone?”
“He’s been guarding me like I’m a prisoner after he caught me trying to sneak out to meet you last night.”
“That’s why he’s acting weird?”
I suddenly remember the note, the pillow, his room and I need to know if I got it right. “What’s your favorite old book?”
“You’ve just dropped all this on me and now you’re asking about my reading taste?”
I nod. This is important, too.
“The Count of Monte Cristo.”
I smile as I walk away, leaving him with his thoughts.
Chapter Twenty Six
Mae
I step back into the small clearing behind the weapons store, passing Cynnie a smile. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure how long it would have taken this moment to happen. Too long, probably. “Ready?”
She nods and grabs my hand. Then we’re floating again, back to the port room where she dashes to the computer, types at super speed, grabs my hand, and we land back in my bedroom. I peer around, certain Nik must be here waiting and we’ve been caught sneaking out, but the room is just as we left it: cold, semi-dark, and empty. I throw my arms around her in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
“Let me know how it goes,” she says.
I blink and she’s gone.
Now that it’s all out there, there’s nothing more I can do. Thankfully my untouched dinner tray is still in the sitting room. After scoffing down two sweet pastries, I collapse onto the bed. My stomach still flutters wildly, hoping against all hope he sees the truth. I feel like all my energy drained when my I shared my burden. Closing my eyes, I drift off.
When I wake, the morning sun streams through the window and casts a solid beam of sunshine onto the bed. I feel more refreshed and alive than I have in days, but I can’t do anything. I just need to sit tight and wait to see what Joshua … what Jax does. The lead’s all his now.
After a long shower, I pull on the flowing green dress—the one the exact same color as his eyes. There was no mention of training or missions today, so I’m taking the day for myself to try to figure out how to get out of here and back to my old life. I pull open the door to the sitting room, letting out a breath when Nik isn’t slouched in the armchair. I cross the room, certain he’ll still be outside my door. Reaching for the handle, just as I turn it, it moves in my hand turning from the other side.
Jax, please let it be Jax coming to tell me he remembers.
The door swings in and I have to step back so it’s doesn’t hit me. Nik stands on the other side. My hope feels like it drops to the floor as his eyes slowly rake over me, lingering on the curves of my torso where the fabric clings. There’s no breakfast tray, and my grumbling stomach isn’t impressed.
“What is it?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“If you’re to be of any help to me searching for …” He pauses like he’s lying yet again. “Look, you need to brush up on Collective myth and history. I thought we could take today to do some independent study.”
“You stand guard outside my room for an entire day and night, then think it’s okay to waltz by and ask me to go study with you?”
He leans against the doorframe. “Couldn’t have my partner sneaking off with my brother, now could I?”
Something about the way he says it, maybe the slight undertone of bitterness, makes me remember overheard words: You are supposed to be keeping them apart, Nikias.
“Why would I want to do that?” Playing the game again, I place my hand on his arm. The feel of his touch reminds me of Jax’s last night and the two aren’t even comparable. They’re almost opposite: black and white, bad and good, disgust and desire.
He reaches over me and pulls the door closed. I step out from under his arm, my stomach grumbling loudly again.
“We can grab something to eat on the way to the library,” he offers.
We walk through the sprawling mansion in silence. My thoughts float back to school last night, lost in memories of Jax. Now that I know that’s his name I can’t think of him as Joshua at all. I startle, we’ve reached the kitchen already. Daydreaming around Nik really isn’t the best idea. I need to stay on my toes. Opening the fridge, I grab a bowl of leftover steamed vegetables. “Where’s the library?”
Nik raises a brow. “You can find my brother’s room, but you don’t know where the library is. Guess we all know how you like to spend your free time.” He winks at me and I cringe, shuddering.
Two minutes and the vegetables come out of the micro
wave steaming.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been to your brother’s room.”
He walks through the door without pausing for me to follow. I grab a fork from the top drawer and jog to catch up, cradling the bowl so I don’t spill it. He definitely knows about Jax, but if I keep denying he’ll have no proof and lay off … hopefully. Nik heads straight to the elevator and we ride it to the first floor. We hop off and go to the right, but I can’t help glancing down the hall to the left, wondering if Jax is thinking about everything I laid on him last night.
Nik goes through the arched doorway at the end of the corridor, and wow. I do the whole mouth drop thing as I walk in behind him. The massive square room is lined from ceiling to floor, wall to wall, with shelves, each overflowing with books. I’m almost surprised with the slates we use that Manvyke keeps all these paper bound books. There really doesn’t seem to be a need. I almost ask why, but stop just in time. The need to act normal around Nik is now imperative.
He goes right to the back wall, runs his finger along the book spines and pulls one out then continues along and takes another. With both tucked under his arm, he moves to the Persian carpet in the center of the room and drops the books on a low-lying table then lowers himself to the floor. This must be where we’re studying. Joining him, I place my bowl on the table, take a seat opposite on a large cushion and eye off the titles. Mythology Surrounding Our Beginnings crosses a slim golden cover. Bold typeface on the second, thicker book reads, A Collective History.
Nik flips open the cover of the myth book. “Most schools teach this stuff in the early grades, but I thought things might be a little different where you come from. The colonies are a little … ah, backward.”
Since my memory started returning it’s like everything he says has a hidden double-meaning. He definitely knows the truth of who I am and what was done to me, but I’m certain Cynnie had no idea before I told her.
My stomach grumbles again and, digging my fork into the veggies, I eat while glancing at the page he has opened. It’s titled Keys of the Patriarchs. I glance at him and he’s looking at the open book facing him. He starts reading, “’It is rumored the first Patriarchs were bestowed three items from the ancients and given guardianship over them. Throughout the next few centuries, other technology was created from these three, making the unlimited power of three the basis of all technology.’”