I studied the flat roof to the side of the tower, not finding Byron or Eric. The dish antenna above me was lowering. Sandra ducked skittishly out of its way and I felt my hands go weak on the rungs. It was the perfect distraction from me at the worst possible moment. It had to be aiming at Byron. I struggled over the edge of the catwalk, my stomach scraping over the side. I didn’t know how to stop any of this in time.
Sandra swung at me and I ducked, seeing the wrench inches from my arm. I landed flat against the catwalk, feeling the jagged metal dig into my back. I rolled out of Sandra’s way, pulling out my old lady perfume. She snickered and came for me again. I sprayed it straight into her eyes. She gagged, falling back. The stench was her downfall. I yanked the wrench from her hands, rushing for the antenna. She clawed at me. I elbowed her back, never before realizing how strong she was. The antenna pointed downward, focusing on its target. I tried to jam its descent with the wrench. It kept going. I hit it a couple of times. Why wasn’t it working?
I spotted the control box and lunged at it a moment before feeling a huge explosion tear through the air. Fire shot through the roof below us. I gasped, catching onto the rails of the shaking catwalk. Smoke billowed up into my face, burning my lungs. I coughed and fell to my knees, staring below at the roof, searching for any sign of life. “Byron!” I shouted. “Please, don’t be hurt. Byron!” I was so shocked, I couldn’t even cry. “Don’t be dead.”
“You think he can hear you?”
My head lifted at Sandra’s nasty voice, barely able to take in the hurt, the loss, the sudden anger. Her face was smug. Black make-up streamed down her cheeks, and I felt all of my emotions erupt inside me. Nothing else mattered. “What did you do?” I whispered hoarsely. After one look at my face, she stepped back. I stood up and felt everything snap, all my self-control, all my numbness evaporated into rage. I swung the wrench and Sandra shrieked in dismay. It hit the control box behind her and I smashed it harder and harder, throwing my anguish against it.
“What are you doing?” she screamed. I swung one last time and ripped the control box from its hinges. It spun through the air and twisted until it disappeared into the darkness. A hollow clatter signaled it hit the ground below. Sparks flew up at us. Sandra screamed even louder.
“What? Why are you screaming?” I cried. “It can’t hear you!” The tears that wouldn’t come before now ran freely down my cheeks. I wanted to roll up in a ball and forget everything, but I was stuck on the top of a tower with an evil witch and my heart was dead. Byron was dead, and there was no way to bring him back. I covered my face.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I recognized the voice and felt his warm arms wrap around me. My face was in his chest and my hands were kind of stuck between us, so I really couldn’t see, but his heart beat rapidly, strong. Freeing my hands, I lifted my face up to Byron’s. He watched me tenderly.
I cried even harder, grabbing at him. “You’re alive.” Just barely. His hair stuck out worse than before. His white shirt was dingy and torn. His face and knuckles were swollen and bloody.
“C’mon,” He smoothed down my wild hair, wrapping a hand over my elbow. “This place is going to blow.” Sandra was already escaping down the ladder. Her beautiful chestnut curls floated over her face as she slid all the way down the rungs to the catwalk between the tower and the highest roof. She lunged onto the roof, her bare feet spinning against the gravel.
“She won’t get out fast enough,” Byron said into my hair. He pulled me to the edge of the catwalk, and I looked down the tower to the ground far below us. I could feel the energy snapping and sizzling through the air. Something was very wrong. Byron grasped the painter’s scaffold the foreign agents had set up, and heaved the cage closer. I didn’t have time to argue. He pushed me inside and threw himself next to me, his arm finding me.
The cage tottered dangerously beneath us. I tried not to look at the ground until I saw it come at us in a blur of color. The wind rushed through my hair. Byron had let go of the ropes, lowering us as fast as his hands could move as if he could beat the catastrophe overtaking us. Every sense inside me felt it coming. The air wasn’t right. It felt prickly and heavy. It was an unexplainable fear that made it feel like we were wading through a nightmare.
We had escaped only halfway down the tower when the night sky lit up with a brilliant flash of lightning. It struck the tower from the cloudless sky. Loud resounding thunder echoed in and out of the towers. I covered my ears. A pillar of fire burned though the atmosphere above us. One glance up told me that the antennas were obliterated. I sank to the bottom of the cage, trying to escape the fire. An answering explosion sent a ripple of power trailing through the tower next to us. Jerking back with a shriek, I watched the brace holding up one side of the cage disintegrate completely. The rope fell heavily over our heads and we toppled through the air with it.
My converses dug into the scaffold’s guardrail. I held on, twisting my arms through the railing as if that would stop me from falling. The cage came to a crashing halt a few feet later and my whole body flipped up, bouncing through the air—my arm the only thing holding me down. I screamed in pain, hearing Byron shout out at the same time. He threw his arm around me, holding me between him and the railing. His arms bulged against the strain. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I twisted my head up, seeing only one side of the scaffold held up by a rope. It tipped at a crazy angle. I didn’t know how long we could stay upright before it broke. The arm on the other side was down. The rope from it lay tangled at our feet. I grimaced at the ground below us. It was too far away. We’d be dead if we fell. The entire cage groaned. My hands slipped against the rope. My arm wouldn’t work properly.
“Hold on!” I felt Byron’s arm leave my back. His long fingers edged closer to the rope. He caught it. “It’s long enough,” he muttered brokenly. “We can do this.” He was rigging a makeshift harness, but I couldn’t keep my grip. I shouted out something unintelligible. His free arm found me and he jerked me up. My chest hit the railing and it knocked the breath out of me. “C’mon!” he shouted. “Work with me, Mad Dog!” His strange endearment renewed a spark of determination through me. “Don’t let go!” he said. “I can’t do this by myself!” I gasped for air and reached for him, winding my arms around him as he half dragged me onto his back. “Hold onto me!”
I tried. My whole body shook. He clipped into the rope, tying us into the painter’s scaffold. I gasped in pure fright. Was he seriously going to rappel down the side of the Provocity tower with me on his back? My grip tightened involuntarily around his neck and shoulders. Anything was better than waiting to die. Pain coursed through my right arm. He tensed and pulled upright. At least we would go together. I took a deep breath and he shoved off the side. Cold air whistled past us. I felt his legs pound fiercely against the tower’s side, and I forced my eyes open.
The ground came up fast, but not fast enough. Fire licked over the tower. Another deafening explosion sounded above us. I twisted to stare up at the five-hundred pound cage. It swayed over us and fell with a loud crack. Almost simultaneously, we hit the gravel against the ground and rolled, trying to kick free from the scaffold before it flattened us. I tripped on the rope. My knees scraped into the ground. Byron had me, rolling us through the gravel to escape. I heard the crash behind us. Debris sprayed into me. I covered my face, feeling Byron’s arms and waited for it all to be over.
I took a hoarse breath, hearing his breaths carry with mine in the sudden silence. Were we still alive? I lifted my head to see the damage. The scaffold and some of the catwalk had crushed into the ground where we had landed moments before. I turned to stare at Byron. He had me by the shirt. His head was down and his shoulders heaved while he tried to catch his breath. I could hear the sirens somewhere in front of us.
“Your iPhone?” I managed. Why was Byron still alive? “It exploded.”
He swallowed another breath. “I slipped it onto Eric at the ledge.” He met my eyes with a searching look. “No way I’d
keep a cell phone on me. Sorry...I saw you and...I really don’t know what happened to him.”
I had a few ideas. Before I could say anything, I heard steps in the gravel behind us and sniffed the foul smell of old lady perfume. “I swear Mad Dog, you have nine lives. How did that not kill you?” I twisted to see Sandra hobble closer. She limped on bare feet. Her cheeks flushed scarlet with fury. Black mascara ran down her cheeks. “No worries,” she said. “I think I can finish the job this time.”
Byron tried to stand, but just toppled to his side with a groan. I noticed he was bleeding, his jeans unrecognizable. I tried to get up, but it didn’t work either. My ankle had rolled weird and my arm wasn’t responding. I couldn’t believe it. After all this, we would die? “Sandra,” Byron kept his eyes steady on hers. “Killing her won’t do any good. It’s over.”
“Shut up!” Sandra wiped at her bleeding mascara. “You think it was a picnic pretending my life was as pathetic as these desperate coeds? The only thing keeping me sane was knowing I’d see both of you smeared all over the ground! Oh.” She made a face at Byron. “You care about the brat, don’t you? Well, you didn’t have to live with her! You never will!”
My eyes searched Sandra for a weapon, any weapon. She held her iPhone like a gun, but even if she wanted to kill us with that, Thanh’s assassination device was a little out of commission. It lay in pieces next to the remnants of the scaffold and my war journal. The sound of choppers sounded above us. Sandra smiled up at the sky. I could only guess it was Hölle. He would take us all out. Her phone rang, and she answered it with trembling fingers. “Hello?”
Tory jumped out from the shadows in usual Tory fashion. She had on a sleek gray jacket over her Cookie Monster needs professional help t-shirt, looking as normal as any girl in the middle of a prank war, like none of this was happening. “Hello, Sandra.” She clicked off her phone with a smirk. I groaned, but before I could warn Tory to get back, she ordered Sandra back in a very un-Tory-like voice, “Put your hands up where I can see them, Agent Vincent.”
Sandra froze just as shocked as I was. “W—why should I?”
Tory shrugged confidently, her red hair a blaze of fire behind her. She looked like she could back up her words. “You prefer to talk it out with control or with me?”
Sandra stepped back. None of us had seen this coming at all. Byron closed his eyes, grimacing in pain. “Looks like we found our sleeper agent. They must have activated her to find the mole.”
Tory confiscated the CIA regulation iPhone from Sandra’s numb fingers. Sandra tried to fight, but Tory shoved her arm behind her, pinning her easily. Tory’s nose wrinkled. “Ooh. Someone needs a bath.”
“Old lady perfume,” I explained in a numb voice. Tory nodded with a smile. Of course she knew. I remembered all the times Tory had come at just the right time—usually when Eric was involved. I glanced over at Byron. “I think I’d be dead without her.”
Byron rested his cheek back against the hard gravel. “Yeah. Probably.”
“Wait? Did you know?”
“No, they probably thought I was the mole.”
Tory smiled. “My suspicions leaned more toward Sandra. Then when Eric came into the picture, I knew for sure. But you know how girls are. Thanh couldn’t see the guy for a jerk. Fortunately, she still had her doubts about him…until someone else kidnapped her.” She gave Sandra a hard look. “That’s how Byron ended up with the keys to the device and not Eric—good old-fashioned female intuition. At least Thanh knew you could be trusted, Byron.”
Sandra snorted.
“Well, Tory, congratulations,” Byron said. He smiled through the pain. “I’ve never seen a cover like that. I had no idea.”
“Are you kidding?” I muttered. “I did.”
She laughed. The darkness came alive behind us. Flashing lights from patrol cars flooded out the shadows. Officers in all sorts of uniforms swept in. They led Sandra away, followed by the landing helicopter that held our paramedics. A group of them worked on us. My whole body hurt, and there were parts of me that couldn’t move without pain, but I was alive. It would be interesting to see Lizzie’s face when she found out I had been right all along. Of course, I’d be kidding myself to think I wouldn’t get slapped with a gag order, not that anyone would believe me anyway.
Tory knelt down beside me. The gravel crunched under her feet as she supervised the wrapping of my ankle. She sighed and I glanced up at her freckled face. She watched me somberly. “Well, it’s been fun.”
I laughed then grimaced when the paramedics found another sore spot on my right arm. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”
“Nah, we have a few things to wrap up. I imagine I’ll be seeing you soon, Captain.” Her hazel eyes danced. “You’d be an invaluable asset to the field. You know you belong to us, right?” I smiled through the pain, tears welling in my eyes. Tory was in character again. She had been—and would always be—my best soldier. “We’re recruiting you whether you like it or not,” she said.
Byron hid a smirk and I caught it. “Oh, I couldn’t do that to Byron,” I said. “How could he possibly put up with me on another mission?”
“Easily.” His eyes found my watering ones. “It’s not a bad idea, cuz. I’ll pull a few strings and put you on my team. If Hölle’s still alive, we’ll sic you on him.”
Tory shot him a stern look. “I think everyone would be better off if you went rogue, New Zealand.” She handed me my war journal then stretched to her feet, spreading her arms out like wings. “Watch your back, Mad Dog. You never know when I might spring out at you.” She reserved a wink for me, and I grinned sadly. There was still a little Tory in there, which made me feel better. I couldn’t lose her completely. She laughed, and I watched her leave with a decided spring to her step.
“Hey, Suzy Q…” Byron glanced over at me, using my most shameful cover. The paramedics worked on his leg, making it impossible to move. It wouldn’t be long before they took him away and he left me too. He found my hand and squeezed it. “Where did we leave off?”
I felt myself go red. I couldn’t quite take in all the things that I had done to a government official. “You’re not going to rub that in my face, are you?”
“Of course not. I promise to be a perfect gentleman from now on.”
That wouldn’t last long...unless they transferred him. I bit my lip, but mostly to keep the pain back because my arm really hurt. “Byron…” I hesitated. “Speaking of covers, what’s your real nam—?”
“Yeah, you got it, right. Lord Byron.”
I laughed. He licked his bruised lips, but before he could tell me, I stopped him. “You know what? I don’t care.” He looked surprised, but to be honest, I wouldn’t be able to take it if his name really was Joe-Joe Rocky Joe Jr. “Nothing else fits,” I said. “I’m going with Byron. Lord Byron.”
A dangerous smile curved his lips. “Fair enough.” The paramedics finished working on his leg and lifted him onto a stretcher. His blue eyes didn’t leave mine. And that’s when I realized he still had my hand, the one without the bandage. He hadn’t let me go yet. “So,” he said, “I guess this is—”
“—goodbye.” I felt the pain of it keenly. It hurt to lose Tory, but this one felt even worse. I wasn’t sure when I would ever see him again. I would miss tormenting him. No. I’d miss more than that. We might never see each other again and I had to be honest with myself. I liked him. More than that. I loved everything about him. It had just been another cover for him, but it had been real to me. I studied his face, trying to memorize every detail before they took him away and erased his identity. That’s when I saw he was laughing. I jerked in indignation.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” he said. He lost his American accent altogether and went completely New Zealand on me, “—this is going somewhere good, I believe.”
I felt myself melt. With that accent, there was no way a thousand paramedics could stand between us. My hand tightened over his. “You shouldn’t talk like that. It’s
dangerous.”
“Good. I’ll use whatever unfair advantage I can get.”
The paramedics piled me onto a stretcher and our hands broke apart. They felt empty without his. What a June 6th. A year ago, I thought I was getting married to Cameron. A half a year ago, I thought I’d spend it with a box of tissues. A month ago, I assumed I would be terrorizing the men in my life with meaningless pranks. Yesterday, I thought for sure I’d be dead. And now? Well, now I just wondered if I would ever see Byron again...and if the way he looked at me had ever been real. I stared up at the sky, seeing the blackened towers cover it—they were just a little charred—nothing that couldn’t be explained away. Would that be Byron’s fate? I’d have to explain away his whole existence to everyone we knew?
Byron and I reunited in the helicopter moments later. “By the way,” he said as if we hadn’t been interrupted. “I saw that bumper sticker you put on my car.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Of course you don’t. You know the one that said I do what I want to do. It’s pretty suspicious, but now it says I do what Mad Dog wants me to do.”
I stifled a laugh, but it kind of hurt. I hoped they’d give me some painkillers pretty soon, though nothing could stop this sudden loss that ached in my throat. I felt it choking me. I wiped at my eyes. “Think of the bumper sticker as a parting gift, okay?”
He sat up, much to the EMT’s irritation. They were trying to get fluids into him. “Well, don’t be surprised if I burn it in front of your apartment with the rest of your gifts,” he said a bit too rudely for my taste.
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