“Let’s go,” he said. Hand in hand, they ran the rest of the way to the carousel. Priors had dumped the broken structure in the Slants years and years ago, like they did with most of their junkyard items. That’s what the Slants really was to them—a place to chuck their trash, to get rid of things they didn’t want to see, including the Gens themselves. But the carousel had become a staple in the community. Kids had liked to climb all over the painted animals, even though it wasn’t running. Not anymore, though. Over the years, parts had rusted and metal had corroded and it was no longer very safe.
“This place used to seem amazing to me,” he told her, a trace of nostalgia in his voice. “It’s funny how even the crappiest stuff can seem that way when you’re a kid with an imagination. But now it’s all just junk. Perfect for getting away from everything, though,” he added with a smile. He ducked into a car shaped like an elephant, and motioned for Davis to sit next to him. The stuffing on the seat was moldy and popping out, but the elephant car was dark and deep and offered the greatest shelter, in case anyone happened by. Not that anyone loved wandering by the old fairgrounds. No one liked to linger in the more dismal parts of the Slants. And everyone’s parents were keeping them on lockdown these days, since the latest body dumping.
To her credit, Davis didn’t look disgusted. Just terrified and exhausted. Davis’s shoulder pressed against his—another benefit of the close quarters of the elephant car—and Cole tried not to focus on how the contact made him feel.
“Cole,” she started, “did you know people were photographing us?”
“Of course not!” He moved away, startled. “Why would I lie about that? I’d basically be throwing myself to the wolves.” He held her gaze, struggling to stay calm. If she figured out the truth, he’d lose her for sure.
She sighed, and a new torrent of tears made their way down her face. Cole reached out and carefully wiped her cheek. She responded, leaning into his touch. So she wasn’t mad at him. She still wanted him as badly as he wanted her, he thought.
“I’m so scared,” she said. Her body looked slight inside the carousel car—child-sized, as if it had been designed for her. “I’m scared, but I hate this feeling. I don’t want to sit here, helpless. I want to do something! But I can’t go home. I’m so scared. Cole, my family is ruined. My father’s whole career is over because of those photos. I can’t face him. And what about…” She stopped, choking back a sob. “I’m worried about Narxis. I’m worried you were right.”
“Come here.” Cole placed an arm around her shoulder and drew her body toward his. She felt stiff, like her whole torso was encased in some protective shield. She slowly relaxed into him. “I wanted to tell you last night,” he continued, “but there wasn’t time. Gens weren’t allowed past the Slants, so I couldn’t even have reached you if I’d tried.”
“What do you mean, ‘Gens weren’t allowed past the Slants’?” Davis drew back, her eyes full of worry. “Why not? Because of the riots?”
“No.” Cole shook his head. “Because there was another death last night. One that couldn’t … go unnoticed.”
“Who was it? A Prior?”
“They’re all Priors,” Cole reminded her. “It was Marcus Eastman,” he said. Davis’s body tensed.
“The swimmer? Four-time winner of the Olympiads?”
Cole met her eyes and nodded.
“But … I met Marcus once. At an athletic conference two summers ago. They brought him in to talk to us. He seemed so solid. He was invincible.”
“No one’s invincible,” Cole said. “They dropped his body just past the city limits, and now we’re on quarantine. I’m not even sure how you got in here.” He paused. “I’m not sure I want to know, actually. They think Gens are infecting everyone. But none of us are sick—look around. There haven’t been any Gen deaths, only Priors. It’s not something that’s starting with us, Davis.”
“Narxis is real,” she breathed.
Cole nodded. “I think so.” He hugged her again, and this time she melted into him, but only for a second.
“There’s one thing I need to know,” she said, pushing away again. “Why me, Cole? Why did you choose me? You had to have known who my father is. You knew you were ruining my life by doing this.”
“I didn’t know, I swear!” Cole fought to steady his breath. At least that much was true—he hadn’t known Davis was Robert Morrow’s daughter. “I never would have come after you if I’d known.” That part probably wasn’t true. Cole swallowed back his guilt. The truth was, he would have gone after anyone Parson told him to, no matter who it was. He’d had to, in order to get Parson on his side and secure his place in the FEUDS. It had been the only way out of the Slants and the life he’d been born into—the only way of creating a better future for the family he loved. He might have gone after anyone … but he wouldn’t have fallen in love with anyone. For that, Davis was entirely responsible. It wasn’t just her beauty and the attraction he felt for her. It was her way of looking at the world, her ability to see a different future, to question everything that had been fed to her all her life. It was her curiosity, and her empathy, and the way she still loved her mother so much after so many years. It was even in the way she was hard on herself, and the way she wanted to please everyone. It was the way she smiled up at him, like she trusted him more than anyone else ever had. And the way she held his hand that showed him they were in it together. It was a closeness he’d never felt with anyone else—had never even imagined feeling. And a strength he sensed in her, this indomitable force that was far more powerful than any brute strength he could show in the cages. It was a combination of all of these things that made her different from anyone he’d ever met. He wanted to treasure her, and love her, and protect her forever.
Could he tell her about Parson? Cole opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Davis looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, her lips formed a grim line. He had to say something, fast. But if she knew everything … if she knew her father’s rival had paid him to get close to her—she’d never in a million years believe his feelings for her were real. And they were. They were the strongest, most intense feelings he’d ever felt for anyone in his life. He couldn’t lose her.
He swallowed. He’d made his decision.
“This is going to sound really pathetic,” he said carefully, wincing as the lies poured from his lips. “But I just … I really wanted to see what life would be like as a Prior.” He waited, seeing if she was buying it. She didn’t respond, but her expression softened. “I’d never really been outside the Slants except to fight in the FEUDS. I wanted to see what it was like. Some friends of mine … we joked around that I could maybe pass for a Prior. So I tried, and it worked. And I met you. And Davis…” There he paused, swallowing the lies and hurrying ahead to the truth, wanting to feel good about himself again and to tell her how he really felt. “I connected with you the second I saw you. I wanted to know everything about you. When I saw you first, you weren’t facing me—you were turned away, and even though I hadn’t seen your face, I knew you were the most beautiful girl in the room. Then when you first smiled at me, and we first started to talk, it was like I could talk to you forever. That was real. Everything since then was real. You’re everything to me. Every time I touched you, or kissed you, it was because nothing in the world could make me happier.” He looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time since he’d begun talking. He had no idea how she’d react.
Davis’s green eyes were full, searching. Cole reached out and touched her hand, his pulse pounding in his ears. He leaned forward and she came to him easily; as though this whole time, they’d been fighting against forces so natural, and all it took was breaking down the barrier to let them return to their rightful state: in each other’s arms. She melted into him and he found her lips with his, and then his tongue was on her neck, which tasted sweet, and she was running her hands through his hair. He brought her face back up to his and their kiss was fervent, hungry. The em
otions that overpowered him were like nothing he’d ever known. He moved his hands to her lower back and lifted her into his lap, wrapping both arms around her. Cradling her was like holding something precious. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and amazing all at once. He almost couldn’t handle it; the thought of ever losing her—of her being hurt—ripped through him painfully and he gasped. She whispered to him, telling him it was all okay. Then she had her hands in his hair and then on the sides of his face, touching him gently but with urgency; then she pressed her lips to his, and if he could have consumed her altogether, taken her whole body into his to make them one person, he would have.
“Hey,” came a voice from beside the carousel. “Who’s that?” Cole and Davis broke apart, breathing hard; she slid off his lap onto the seat next to him and looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. Cole motioned for her to be quiet, and he peered out of the elephant. Maybe he could pretend he was with was Michelle or some other random Gen, if he could block this person’s view. He maneuvered himself closer to the opening and looked up to find Worsley standing there with his medical bag, his tall frame half-bent in order to see them better.
“It’s you.” Cole heaved a sigh of relief, and Worsley straightened back to his full six feet. “Thank God.” It wasn’t that he was unafraid of Worsley’s reaction; it was just that he knew Worsley would always be on his side. He trusted and admired Worsley, maybe even more than his own brother.
“Cole, who’s in there with you?” Worsley’s voice held a note of warning, and before Cole could stop him, he pushed him aside and peered inside the carousel car.
“Dammit, Cole,” Worsley told him. “This is bad. Come here.” He motioned for Davis to climb out. “It’s fine, there’s no one else around. Just let me get a look at you.” She climbed out of the elephant and Worsley turned to Cole, his shoulders tense under his plain white button-down. “You’re not involved with her, are you? Cole, please tell me you’re not.”
Cole stepped forward, his fists clenched in rage. For once, he noted Worsley’s physical impressiveness. He’d been a FEUDS fighter once, and Cole was always forgetting that and boxing him in as an intellectual. But now, feeling his opposition, he automatically noted every tensed muscle in Worsley’s neck and his slightly aggressive stance, legs spread wide and arms crossed. “When did you become so prejudiced?” Cole asked. “What’s so bad about being a Prior? Since when do you judge, Worsley? I thought you were all about equality.”
Worsley’s mouth dropped open and his face flushed. “That’s not it at all,” he insisted, reaching up to tug at the strap of the signature canvas messenger bag he always wore over one shoulder. “Cole…” He trailed off, running one hand through his hair. His eyes wore a worried expression, the blue in them brighter than usual. If Cole hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Worsley pitied him.
“What?” Cole said, feeling the sudden, urgent need to know what Worsley was thinking. “Just say it.”
“Can’t you see it?” Worsley pled. “I don’t care if she’s a Prior, Cole. Look at her.”
“See what?” Cole felt the blood drain from his face, the beginnings of panic. “See what?” he demanded again, moving closer to Davis, who looked shaken. Worsley placed a hand on Cole’s shoulder. He hesitated before telling Cole what he already knew, what he’d known since Worsley’s first shocked expression. Cole’s hands shook as he waited for the words.
“The girl has Narxis,” Worsley finally said.
15
DAVIS
The girl has Narxis. Davis blinked and struggled to sit up, squinting into the dim light of the room. She tried to shake off the dream, but something in her refused to let go of the panicky feeling that was taking hold of her. Where was she? She waited impatiently for the hazy shapes to form into her familiar bedside table, her desk, the set of hooks she used for hanging scarves. But unfamiliar lumps and angles remained unfamiliar, until two people-sized forms moved into her line of vision.
Her eyes adjusted more, taking in the cut of Cole’s jaw, the worried crease in his brow. And she remembered with a sudden, sick feeling that nearly bowled her over: none of it had been a dream. Cole reached for her hand, but she yanked it away, scooting farther back on the table. “What are you doing?” Her words came out breathy, clipped. “Where are we?”
“We’re in my lab.” Tom Worsley stepped forward into the narrow beam of sunlight that issued from the window behind her and illuminated a very small portion of the room. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine.” Her tone was guarded—her words sounded clipped—but she didn’t care. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” It was true; she felt fine. A little woozy, but she’d had a shock. It was to be expected. She looked to Cole for reinforcement—surely he’d back her up; Worsley was being nuts—but he only frowned.
“Hit the lights, Cole,” Worsley ordered. “Now that she’s awake and adjusted, she should be fine.” Cole tugged at a long metal chain hanging from the wall, and the room was suddenly flooded with light. Davis gasped as Worsley’s lab came into view: it was rife with cold metal contraptions and beakers. She felt like less of a person, perched up there on that table. Her skin crawled. She felt like a specimen.
“I’m fine,” she said again, louder. She moved to stand up. “Perfect. I’m totally perfect, see?” She stood straight, squaring her shoulders and desperately ignoring a powerful wave of nausea, a result of standing too soon. She tried to meet Worsley’s eyes, but he just looked away. Coward, she thought. It was almost as if he preferred her as a little lab animal he could poke and prod. Still, her stomach turned, and she could feel moisture forming at her temples.
“Cole,” she said. She looked at him. His eyes were large, sad. “I want to go home. I shouldn’t have come here.”
He reached for her hands, and this time she didn’t pull away. “Davis, please.” His voice was soft, so soft she almost cried. “Just let him run a few more tests. If…” He trailed off, then swallowed hard, seeming to get his bearings. “If you do have Narxis, Tom Worsley is the best person to help you. Your doctors across the river are denying the disease even exists. You can’t turn to them if you need to. Please stay here; let us take care of you.”
Davis hesitated. She glanced in Worsley’s direction and he moved to the opposite end of the lab, just out of earshot. It took effort to summon her words; what she was about to say felt like a betrayal. Because she couldn’t be sick. It couldn’t be happening to her. Still … this was bigger than her. “Cole, if you’re right … If Narxis really does exist…”
“Then we need to get you help.”
Davis shook her head. “No. Maybe. But first I need to talk to my dad.”
Cole met her eyes, frowning, but he didn’t argue.
She took a breath. “My dad can do something about this.” She squeezed his hand, her tone urgent. “You know that. He’s the only one who really can. And if this thing is real, it means my friends, my family … they could be next. I need to try to help them.”
“You need to help yourself first,” Cole said, his voice raspy. “You can’t do anything for anyone unless you’re healthy.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “This is what I need to do. I’ll never be able to sit here and think about them over there, not knowing. Besides,” she said, rubbing his palm with her thumb. “You know my dad will pull out all the stops for me. He’ll get me the very best.” She smiled a little. “You know you think I’m a little bit spoiled. Go ahead. Now’s your chance to say it, because my dad will do everything he can to make sure I’m okay. His entire campaign is based on making Columbus a better place for me and Fia. He’d do anything for us.”
“Okay,” Cole said reluctantly. “But when can I see you? How will I know you’re all right?”
“Cole,” Worsley broke in, taking a step toward them. “You can’t just let her go.”
“I can’t keep her here against her will,” Cole pointed out. He held out a palm, discouraging Worsley from mo
ving any closer. “There’s nothing we can do, Tom. If she wants to go, I’m not going to force her to stay.”
Worsley nodded, his face grave.
“I’ll come back tonight,” Davis said, keeping her voice low. “After I’ve had a chance to explain everything.”
“The carousel?” Cole held her gaze with his, and with his palms grasping her own, it was like he was cradling her with a look. She felt safe, strong.
“Yes.” She leaned forward, allowing herself to relax against his shoulders. He stood in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. He drew her toward him, tilting her chin up so that when he bent low over her, their lips touched. The kiss was brief but sweet, and it sent a surge of energy through her. Davis closed her eyes, then let go of his hand. She gave him one last glance as she left the lab. Worsley stood behind him, his arms at his sides, looking resigned. Cole looked anything but. His shoulders were squared and his face determined.
“Good-bye,” she said softly.
“Tonight,” he said back—not as a reminder, she knew. As a promise.
* * *
“Oh, thank God!” Davis’s dad rushed toward her, his face a mask of worry and confusion. He wrapped her in his arms so forcefully that Davis felt pressure against her lungs, and her breath came short. “I was so worried! Davis, where have you been? We were frantic. Terri’s been calling—well, never mind that. After the articles … I thought something awful had happened to you.”
“So you’re not mad?” Davis hadn’t been sure what to expect from her father—shock, at best.
“Mad? Sweetheart, no. It’s obvious you’ve been taken advantage of. Worried, though. My God.” He ran a hand through his lightly graying hair. “I’ve never been so worried in my life.”
She felt her eyes well with tears but willed them away. “I have to talk to you,” Davis said, eager to let him know about Narxis, to get help right away. The urgency she felt was all-consuming, and seeing her dad’s concern made her feel empowered. He’d do something to help, she knew it. He was the only one who could, practically.
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