Death ribbons slide over their bodies like velvet. Their knees buckle. Their eyes roll up into their skulls. They topple, dropping dead.
The breath is gone from their bodies before their backs or knees even hit the ground. They fall like toy soldiers blown over by a strong breeze.
Then there is nothing. Nothing moves in the sky. Nothing moves on the ground.
That isn’t quite right. I see one man in the distance, running full tilt away from me. I consider chasing him down and finishing him off. I don’t want to leave any survivors that may take up my father’s cause again. But when I brush this one’s mind, I don’t feel any loyalty, any intention to carry on in Caldwell’s name.
There aren’t even complete thoughts in this one’s head. There’s only crushing sadness. And fear. Fear drips from every fiber of his being.
I let him go.
I watch his form grow smaller through the shimmering heat of flames. I inhale deep the smell of blood and smoke and charred flesh.
Are you having fun? A whisper licks the inside of my ear.
Michael stands on the beach, a good ten feet away. I’m not concerned about this latest shift from ice to waves.
I’m concerned about Michael. He has blood on his hands up to his shoulder. My father looked like that once when he plunged his hand through Liza’s chest and took her power from her. Whose chest has Michael been tearing open?
Yours, he says.
I look down and see that he’s right. Blood pours down the front of my body.
“I don’t have a heart,” I say.
He smiles.
“My heart is gone. Where is it?”
“Where is it?” he mimics, cruelly.
Lies and illusions, Gabriel whispers. And it is his voice, loud and clear, though I can’t see him. I keep turning my head, catching him in the corner of my eye, but never seeing him fully. It’s only Michael and me on the beach—and those ever-circling angels who keep waiting for something.
Waiting for the gate to open.
Waiting to inherit the world.
Black feathers raining down in front of my eyes. The smell of rain grows so strong I expect to feel droplets on my face at any moment.
The time has come, Michael says. He’s right in front of me now.
He reaches up and places one hand in my hair. His hand is warm and sticky with my blood.
“You have no enemies left. It’s just me and you, for as long as I can keep your troublesome pet at bay. So let’s hurry this along, shall we?”
My limbs grow heavy and weak. My knees buckle, and Michael catches me, his arm pressing into the small of my back, crushing me against his stone chest. His lips are dangerously close to my face. So close I can smell his breath. He smells like carrion. Rotten meat and roadkill. The metallic tang of fresh blood.
I try to buck him off, but it’s like moving underwater. The power is draining from me. I used it all up, I think. I’m all used up.
“No,” he says, slipping his tongue into the crevices of my ear. “Let me show you what you can do.”
Chapter 19
Ally
I’m trying to keep a casual pace as I walk through the labyrinth of hallways to the sleeping pods. I notice a slight tremor in my hand as I push the elevator button to go down to level three. Whatever is happening to Jesse, I can feel it.
Whatever is going on with her, I’ve run out of time. I have to go now. Even if Gloria hadn’t given me some dire warning about using Jeremiah’s plane, I can’t wait.
A sick foreboding makes my stomach sour and limbs heavy.
I reach pod 333 and use the watch on my wrist to open the door.
It’s empty except for the pug on the bed. Winston lets out a little yip of surprise the way he does when anyone knocks on the door, but then his cinnamon bun tail only wags. I spare him a weak hello and his tail sags.
Maisie’s not in here and neither is Eli.
I try not to let dread send me into a full-blown frenzy. I go to the next room and knock on my brother’s pod.
Again, only silence. No patter of feet. No one climbing out of a bunk and moving to answer the door. No voices.
I decide to check the rec hall before I panic. After all, knowing my brother, he would find the rec room to be a better place for getting to know a girl he’s just met. The intimacy of the pod would probably make Maisie feel too vulnerable. My brother is very conscious of space like that, particularly about how he occupies space when he is around women. I’ve always loved that about him.
Somehow, I make it up to the rec room despite my unsteady legs trembling with that unseen electricity. When I step off the elevator, relief washes over me.
My brother is volleying a ping pong ball across the table to Maisie. It pops up and hits her in the chin and she laughs. She’s okay. They’re okay.
I take a deep breath and force calm into my voice. “Getting along?” I know this room is bugged, and so I can’t simply shriek, I’m going to steal a plane now! Wish me luck!
And there is this issue with the pins and needles electricity that makes me feel as though my flesh is trying to crawl off my bones.
I sit on the sofa closest to the table. My brother catches the ball that Maisie serves without really looking at it. He’s frowning at me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a little winded,” I say.
“Your breathing is fine,” he says, immediately challenging me like only an older brother can. “You look like you’re in pain.”
“Come here,” I whisper to both of them and I force a smile. “I need to tell you something.”
They drop their paddles onto the tabletop at once and come sit beside me on the sofa.
“Gloria is awake,” I say in a quick, hushed voice. “She says I need to leave and get Jesse now. Right now. Not later. Not tomorrow.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I need to find Nikki. And I need to get a message to Gideon, because I don’t think I can wait until he gets here.” I meet my brother’s eyes. “And I need you to help me because…because I’m not feeling 100%.”
But I am beginning to feel better.
That raw, itching power is pulling back, leaving me cold.
“But what about me and Winston?” Maisie asks, her brow knit in concern, blue eyes wide and searching mine.
“Eli will look after you.”
“Why not you?” she demands.
“He’s promised to help you get settled with Gloria. Just like you want.” I’m hoping these words will comfort her, but her face remains pinched.
“Why not you? Or Jesse? What did Gloria say?”
When the rapid fire questions stop, I can only smile at her. “It’s going to be okay.”
I exchange a look with my brother, and the color rises in his cheeks. But he says nothing. He lets his working jaw say it all.
“Now, help me,” I plead and offer them both a hand to pull me up.
“I thought we agreed that you would go when I could spare the plane,” a voice calls.
I pivot in my seat and find Jeremiah standing there with three armed guards. I don’t know any of these people. My one ally, Nikki, is nowhere in sight. This is definitely a bad sign, as bad as the fact that he’s here with armed guards.
Gloria was obviously right. Jeremiah must have heard our conversation about the drawing. And he must have decided to detain me almost immediately after, if he was able to get three guards and arrive here so quickly.
I slip my hand in my pocket and search for the intercom. I feel the snail-shell coil of one side. I press it and nothing happens. I turn it over and mash the red emergency button. At least I hope I do.
“I was under the impression my sister could come and go as she pleases,” my brother says, that hint of fury searing his words. “Is she a prisoner here? I wasn’t aware that she has broken any law or that you had the authority to arrest her.”
Maisie entwines her arm with mine.
I p
ush the intercom button again.
“Don’t get involved in this,” I whisper into Maisie’s ear.
“Too late for that,” she says.
“Take them all,” Jeremiah says, one hand on his hip as if he’s disappointed in us.
The three figures in full black tactical gear descend on us. My brother starts to resist, but I shake my head. “Don’t.”
I cut my eyes to Maisie. I don’t want her to hurt any more than she has already. So instead, when they surround us, I do my best to relax and put on a brave face.
“Does Nikki know you’re detaining me?” I ask politely.
They don’t answer. Instead, we are seized by the upper arms and ushered toward the elevator.
From there, we are taken to the 22nd floor. Yet another floor that I didn’t know existed. We step off the elevator and take only five steps into a circular room. It’s windowless, padded.
And Gideon is inside, crouched against one wall with his hands on his knees.
“This is for your own safety,” Jeremiah says. “If you try to escape, I will have to use force.”
“On whose authority?” my brother says.
Jeremiah doesn’t say anything. He only pulls the door shut. I hear three bolts slide home, locking the door in place. And because the inside of the door looks exactly like the other padded panels lining the wall, I’m not even sure which one is the door now.
“Hello, Alice,” Gideon says with his crisp British accent. “And here I was hoping that you would rescue me. Darling, if you’re going to play the hero, you can’t be captured unless it’s part of the plan. Was this part of the plan?”
I shake my head.
“Of course not,” he sighs and kicks his legs out in front of him.
My brother casts him a look.
“Gideon is a friend,” I tell him by way of introduction.
“Do you think Gloria will figure out we are in here and break us out?” Maisie asks, hopefully. “God, of course not. She’s in, like, a full-body cast. Stupid. And what about Winston! I left him sleeping in the pod! If we don’t get out of here, he is going to starve. He’s probably only got enough food and water for a day in there.”
“Let’s not panic,” I say. “I paged Nikki before we were taken. Hopefully, she’ll get to us. Soon.”
I open and close my fists, trying to ease some of the electricity.
Gideon snorts. “You are ever the optimist, my dear. I’ve been in here for three hours. There is no bathroom, by the way. If I’d known I was going to be caught and imprisoned, I wouldn’t have had that fourth mojito.”
“Three hours?” I ask, stunned.
“Yes. And four mojitos.”
If Gideon has been imprisoned for three hours, then Jeremiah was lying to me. Or at the very least, he misled me into believing that Gideon wasn’t here yet.
I pull the intercom out of my pocket and mash it with my thumb again. The blue light didn’t even come on. Did its battery die? Or did I break it?
“Did you check the room for weaknesses?” my brother asks.
“Of course,” Gideon tells him. “I have skills, you know. Even though they took all my gadgets and there is no network access in here. I think this room was designed for someone like me.”
“A spy?” Maisie asks.
“A troublemaker,” he says and winks at her. The flirt.
He points at the seamless, padded walls.
“I can’t really work with this. I ripped off part of the padding to see what’s underneath, but it’s only concrete. You can see where I tore up that bit there and the stuffing is coming out. I suspect we are being monitored, so I will not get very far trying to tear off the walls before they send someone to stop me, anyway. They’ve been rather civil about it so far. I’d hate to see what happens once they’ve lost their temper.”
“Hopefully, he’s just preparing the plane and the team,” I say. But I can’t get Gloria’s warning out of my head. Go now. It’s already begun.
If Jeremiah doesn’t let us out soon, we’re in big trouble. Then again, I can breathe almost normally now. Maybe the danger has passed.
Gloria can’t rescue us. Nor can Jesse. And what if Nikki knows about this? What if Nikki didn’t come with Jeremiah, not because I’ve been detained behind her back without her knowing, but because she didn’t have the heart to look me in the eye while Jeremiah did it?
“Someone will come,” Maisie whispers. She’s looking at something in the corner. Something I can’t see. Or maybe someone.
And I can’t even bat an eyelash at that now, can I?
“Yes,” I say. “Nikki will come.”
Only she doesn’t, and for a very long time all I can do is replay Gloria’s warning in my head while my agitation thickens the air around me.
I pace. I lean against the wall only to start walking again.
I hope that everyone in the room just sees it as symptoms of anxiety. No one needs to worry about that strange connection between Jesse, Gabriel, and I.
I’m not the only one acting anxious anyway.
My brother keeps repeating mindless laws and codes and meaningless phrases like a violation of personal liberty as if it means anything in here.
How do I tell him the rules don’t apply in this world? In the world run by men like Caldwell, men like Jeremiah, who wear a good man’s face half the time and a villain’s the other—in this world, personal liberty is a privilege that is often revoked, on a whim without warning.
Maisie seems to be the only one taking it in stride.
She’s adopted a stillness that I would have said is impossible in anyone so young. But I keep forgetting who she is and where she comes from. She’s far from ordinary. She says, “I hate being trapped in rooms without doors.”
“But these cream-colored walls are great for your complexion, love. You’re positively glowing.” Gideon keeps flicking the plastic hospital bracelet bound to his left wrist.
Maisie graces him with a smile.
He wears Rachel’s asylum bracelet like a bangle. He plays with it until he catches me watching, and then like a little boy who’s been reprimanded, he covers it protectively with his hand. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, and keep pacing. Then I say, “What did you see in her?”
His face flushes red. The color rises in his golden-brown cheeks and his eyes flash, hateful. But instead of yelling at me, he bursts out laughing.
“What did I see in her? Except the fact that she was a heartbreakingly beautiful, mad, bewitching little creature?”
The laughter rolls out of him until I think he’s going to hyperventilate. I catch Maisie staring at him out of the corner of her eye.
“True, it was a brief, catastrophic affair. No matter what, that’s how it would’ve been. Even without all of this.” He gestures at the room, at all of us. “That’s just how she was. I wouldn’t have changed a minute of it.”
He meets Maisie’s eyes, and she looks away. He asks me, “Can you say the same?”
My brother cuts his eyes to mine. He’s waiting for me to answer. They all are.
“What do you see in Jesse?” Gideon presses. “Come on now, we’re live on Big Brother 6, the four of us trapped in this little room. The audience is waiting. They want to know your darkest secrets, love. Your most desperate regrets.”
As if I could make such a list on command. But I’m already composing it.
I see her bravery.
I see her unwillingness to take herself too seriously.
I see her smile and laugh and fierce loyalty to the people she loves.
I see how desperate she is to say anything, do anything to make someone laugh.
I see her utter fearlessness in the face of challenge.
I see her sweet tenderness when she thinks no one is watching…
“If you could just bow out of all of this, would you?” Gideon says. His voice is soft now and a little tighter than before.
“No.” And I say it with absolutely hon
esty. “Do you regret Brinkley dragging you into this? If he hadn’t asked you to protect Jesse and Rachel, would you have come anyway?”
Gideon laughs again. But it’s high and tight and much less good-natured than before.
“I was very angry, to be sure,” he says. He slips his finger under the plastic bracelet again. “You can’t imagine what it was like, watching this man, who was like my own father, refuse to protect himself. I wanted him to use them, Rachel or Jesse, I didn’t care who. Either one would have replaced him just fine. But he wouldn’t do it. He said Caldwell would use it as an opportunity to murder one or the other.”
“He would,” Maisie agrees.
“It was his right to choose,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Let’s see Jesse choose death, and I doubt you’ll be so magnanimous. So evolved.”
I know he’s right, but his cold bitterness still stings.
“At the time, it seemed like he was giving up,” Gideon adds, scraping at that plastic bracelet with his thumbnail. “And I hated him for it. I thought how dare you give up on me? How dare you give up your life for hers and leave me here to deal with all of this alone?”
He runs his fingers through his hair.
I slide down the padded wall and pull my coat around my shoulders a little tighter. I snuggle into my jacket. I don’t know if my fear is making me cold, or if it is the room. No one else seems affected.
“Do you forgive him?” I ask.
“Oh, shut up,” he says, but there is no venom in it. “Of course I do. Can we stop sharing our feelings now? It’s bloody awful.”
Maisie frowns at me, and I can hear the are you okay on the tip of her tongue. I close my eyes, hoping that this is a clear dismissal.
I almost fall asleep like that, exhaustion washing over me at long last. But a shadow moves in the corner of my eye, and my head snaps toward it. At first, I think I’m looking at Jeremiah. That he has some pathetic excuse for our detainment, not doubt for our own safety, but all is well now, etc., etc.
But it isn’t Jeremiah. It’s Gabriel.
He stands there, in all his glory, black swan wings stretched out on either side of him. Maisie makes a small sound beside me, and I turn, seeing her mouth has dropped open too, her eyes wide with surprise.
Dying Day Page 20