by Somers, Jill
“Right,” he said, nodding. “We make for the tower.”
11. PLAN B
As they all exited the building, Quinn felt on edge, to say the least. Her biggest question was whether there would be an army awaiting them—and whether Reese would be in that army.
It was starting to settle in, how angry she was with him—how many questions she still had. How much he had lied to her. If her and Rory’s truth detections had been accurate with Dash, just about everything Reese had ever told her was a lie. A part of her hoped he would be there—almost dared him to be.
But he wasn’t. No one was. The island was quiet.
“Do you think they already know?” she asked Dash.
“Probably, though by no fault of Shade’s. He is very powerful, but I feel pretty confident he’s no seer. Charlie and Pence checked his phone when they knocked him out. He hadn’t reported anything yet. If Savannah and Reese know about us, it’s because of our own actions.”
“Meaning?”
“While we were in the classroom, Charlie was communicating with his parents. They’ve been recruiting, all around the island. As quietly as possible, but someone was bound to take notice. Everything’s gone into overdrive now. Ridley’s been back the tower, setting everything up. Stationing people at all of the exits; preparing the living quarters; food; the whole nine yards.”
Quinn smiled to herself. “He’s pretty high up in the movement, isn’t he?”
He nodded. “Things are different in the resistance. Where people like Savannah and Reese held him back in Siloh, not giving him the opportunities he deserved… We’re not like that. We realize that trust is the most important thing at a time like this, and if there’s one thing we all agree on, it’s that we can trust Ridley.”
“I know the feeling.”
He watched her for a moment as they walked. She could tell there were things he wanted to say to her. There were things she wanted to say to him, too. But not there. Not in front of the entirety of the YA.
They reached the tower. At first, Quinn didn’t see any obvious signs of security. But the moment Dash opened the door for her, she spotted two people standing guard: Hank, the monster she had met back at the bar, and a woman, beautiful, though not a pretty monster like Quinn and Dash. She had long, red hair, and fireballs emerged from her hands the moment she saw people stepping in.
“At ease, Roxy,” Dash said calmly to her as he led the class into the lobby. “They’re all with me.”
Quinn watched the woman as her fireballs subsided and she smiled at Dash. Quinn couldn’t help but feel a pang of rivalry. Roxy was closer to his age, and inevitably less of a head case than Quinn. Quinn wondered whether anything had happened between them since she and Dash had stopped speaking.
She groaned, frustrated by her own inner dialog, blushing when she realized everyone had heard her groan. Dash glanced back at her, confused. She pretended she didn’t know why.
Dash led them to the elevator, which they piled into. He punched the button for the fourth floor—the penthouse where all the parties were thrown. As they passed the third floor, her mind flashed back to Dash’s room—the room they had nearly made love in. She wondered whether they had repurposed it, too, or whether it remained private.
Somehow, she doubted she’d be receiving an invitation, either way.
The elevator doors opened to the fourth floor, and she was both impressed and saddened to see a complete 180 from the party room it had been before. The bar was completely gone, along with the tables, chairs, and party lights. Instead, there were dozens of neat little cots organized by rows, each with a dresser and desk boxing around it. Each like a tiny, wall-less room.
“How could they have done all of this?” she asked Dash in amazement. “So quickly?”
“We have a conjurer,” he explained. “Whatever she draws, she creates. There are limits, of course. She can’t draw food, she can’t draw actions, she can’t draw people. But when it comes to things like this, she’s indispensable.”
Quinn made a mental note to insist on being introduced to this artist of theirs.
“Okay, everyone,” Dash said. “This is the new fourth floor. Choose a bed. Any bed. Respect each other’s privacy as best you can here—I know it’s not easy. Spare clothes are available in all of the dressers. Community-style bathrooms are located at each end. Once you are all settled in, report to the second floor, which has been made into a dining hall. There, we’ll eat and await the rest of the resistance to report for a meeting. That will be at two o’clock sharp.”
Everyone nodded wordlessly.
“Every floor of this building is considered safe, but I think we should all keep in mind that the most safety is in numbers. The second and fourth floors are the safest. The first floor is where we will be having new and improved power tech. Every day, ten AM sharp, starting tomorrow. It won’t be just us anymore. It’ll be everyone, of all ages.
“Finally, with the cat out of the bag, we’re all going to have to do our part and step up when it comes to security. There is a board on this far wall—” he gestured to a giant whiteboard near the bathrooms “—with slots available to sign up for. Two per shift for now. Three-hour shifts. Round the clock. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” said Angel. “What if we don’t want to do that?”
Dash didn’t seem surprised by her question. He answered her in the frankest way possible. “Then you know where the door is. And I wish you the best of luck.”
Angel held Dash’s gaze for a second before walking past him and toward the door. For a second, Quinn thought that was it—they had already lost their first member.
But Angel stopped at the whiteboard and wrote her name into one of the slots.
Quinn smiled to herself. Despite their differences, Quinn had never thought of Angel as a bad person. She was glad to see that she wasn’t wrong.
“Right,” Dash said. “Everyone get settled. I’ll see you all soon. Second floor.”
• • •
Quinn watched her classmates scatter about, throwing bags and possessions onto various beds. She didn’t choose a bed; she wouldn’t be sleeping there. If she was lucky, she’d find someplace within the tower’s four floors with a free couch for her to sleep on. If not, she’d sleep in a bathtub somewhere. But not here. Not like this.
Again, her mind flashed to Dash’s bedroom. The thought of sleeping there—really, the thought of not sleeping there, but rather doing everything but sleep—was becoming just as intoxicating to her as it had been before everything had gone haywire. After all, Dash had been the honest one all along, hadn’t he? As much as she hated to admit it, he’d had valid reasons for keeping her in the dark.
“Everything okay?” Rory asked her, walking up to her with wide eyes. “I saved you a bed.”
Quinn tried to force a smile. “Thanks. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get much sleeping done in here. But you’ll be safe here.”
Rory rolled her eyes. “This again? Quinn, you’re just gonna have to accept you’re not a lone wolf any more. I’m in your head and I’m there to stay. And I don’t think I’m the only one.”
Quinn could tell that Rory was referring to Dash, but she pretended she had no idea what she was talking about. “Go to the second floor. Save me a seat and a burger. I’ll be right behind you, okay?”
Rory grinned. “Sure. Have fun on the third floor.”
Quinn didn’t want to know how Rory knew which floor Dash was on.
She made her way to the elevators, waiting for the first group to take off before getting her own, not wanting everyone to see which floor she was going to.
It was hard to retrace her footsteps, given the intoxicated state of mind she’d been in the last time she was there. But it was definitely the right floor. Long, ornate hallway, a few doors on her left, a bathroom on her right, and….
There it was, on the end. Even with her memory failing her, even with every door looking the same, there was something tell
ing her it was his room. It was that sixth sense that had always made her question whether she really was a seer.
She hesitated before knocking, not at all sure what to say or do. A part of her wanted to grab him, kiss him, and never let go. A part of her wanted to ask him whether he’d already moved on. A part of her just wanted to say she was sorry.
She knocked, deciding to figure out the rest when she saw his face.
“Who is it?” he asked through the door. She knew he wouldn’t normally ask, but given the circumstances, she couldn’t blame him.
She considered joking. It would usually be her go-to in this situation. Pretend to be Savannah, Reese, or even the attractive new fire woman downstairs guarding the entrance. Just to get a laugh out of him. Just to make herself laugh, even.
But she didn’t have the heart to. Not in that moment. So she said, with a certain degree of exhaustion, “It’s me.”
There was a hesitation on his end; she didn’t miss it. But it was only a second, and then the door opened.
“Hi.” He sounded tired.
“Hi.” She swallowed, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Can I come in?”
He hesitated again. He clearly didn’t think it was a good idea. But he backed up, making way for her to step into his room.
It hurt her, looking around in that room. In a strange way, teleporting there, hitting those soft, silky sheets, being locked in an embrace with him—it had been the closest thing to paradise she’d experienced. A brief paradise, but still a paradise.
And then she had gone and ruined it.
“Look,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m here, exactly. I just… I guess I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
A glint of surprise sparked in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this.
“I can see that it hurt you,” she said, “me not trusting you completely, me not choosing you. The same way it hurt me that you didn’t tell me everything.”
“But you see the difference, don’t you? At least, from my perspective? I did trust you, Quinn. I knew who you were. The only reason I didn’t tell you everything was because of my loyalty to the resistance.”
She understood. She had failed him, just as she always failed everyone.
“I know,” she said. “So… I’m sorry.”
He held her gaze for several seconds. She could see it, just beyond his eyes, trying to work its way to the surface. All of things he wanted to say. So much more. She knew, at least on some level, that same desire was there for him, too—the desire to grab her and kiss her, to pick up where they had left off.
But he didn’t do that.
“Reese,” he said, “he’s… he’s not even capable of love. He’s the closest thing we have on this island to an old-fashioned monster, which is the irony of all ironies, given how many ‘monsters’ we have.” He sighed. “Look, Quinn. I know he played you. I know you were confused. But for you to see Reese, my snake of a brother, no differently than you saw me… It’s just not something I can forget any time soon. I hope you can understand that.”
There was so much she could say. She could tell him the lies Reese had told her about him. The things he’d made up. She could tell him so much.
But it didn’t really matter, because he didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to be left alone.
So she left.
• • •
She knew it was suicide. She knew it was not only dangerous, but that it would piss off all of the friends she had finally convinced to trust her again. She knew she would miss the first meeting the resistance had held since she joined. She knew all of this, but she did it anyway.
Reese had ruined her one shot at a good thing. Not just Dash, but Siloh, too. He was trying to take it all away from her. And he had played her for a fool.
She wasn’t going to kill him. She knew that, in a situation so much bigger than any one person, a single death could mean an entire war. So, as much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t.
But she certainly planned to rough him up a bit.
Hank and Roxy tried to stop her when she left the tower, but she laughed in their faces. Roxy’s abilities were impressive—fire, after all, was one of Quinn’s own favorites—but it was nothing when faced with someone powered by water, and Quinn was no beginner with water. She doused the girl’s flames with ease, ducked past Hank, and headed back out to the island.
It wasn’t hard to find Reese. She made her way toward the town hall, but she didn’t have to walk far; she just had to look up. It was like Dash had said: he was patrolling the skies.
This might be trickier than I thought, she mused as she lifted up into the air. Flying had always been one of her weakest abilities; focusing all her energy into it, she wouldn’t have much left to hurt him with when she faced him.
She could sense people gathering beneath her, shouting things, watching her, as she made her way up to him. She knew it had already begun. No doubt before long, someone would be firing bullets at her. But it wouldn’t be the first time. She could deal with bullets.
She scanned the rest of her surroundings as she ascended. She didn’t see any soldiers from the mainland, but she did see helicopters. Just far enough from the island to not pose an immediate threat… Just close enough to make it clear they were there. Waiting.
“Quinn,” Reese said when she reached him, smiling calmly over at her. “What a nice surprise. Guess you were a better flyer than you let on.”
“I think we both misled each other, if I’m not mistaken,” she growled at him.
He chuckled. “Perhaps. It was just so easy, Quinn. You were so desperate not to trust my brother, you almost begged me to give you reasons not to.”
She knew he was right; it was the reason Dash was having such a hard time forgiving her. But just because he was right didn’t mean he was any less of an asshole, she decided, so she punched him in the face.
He took it surprisingly well, smirk never leaving his face, clutching the bruise without whimpering about it. “Not a bad hit, Quinn. We could still use you on our side. You know, if you prefer not being obliterated on judgment day.”
“Judgment day?” She laughed out loud. “Please. I’m not scared of anything you or your mother tries to throw at us. She doesn’t even have abilities, and you? You fly. It’s pathetic.”
His smirk faded; she was starting to hit the right spots. “When Siloh gets what’s coming to it, it won’t matter whose abilities are strong and whose aren’t. No one will have a chance in hell.”
Quinn’s mind flashed with questions. She wanted to know what he meant by that. She wanted to know more about their plan.
But she knew he wouldn’t answer any of those questions, and anyway, only one answer mattered to her in that moment.
“Was it even yours?” she asked him. “The book?”
“No, Quinn, you poor little thing. It was never mine.”
“But the quote,” she nearly whispered, looking at him with almost as much disdain as she had for Crowley. “You knew the quote. You knew the page number.”
“I had Shade look through it when he was in class with you. He put you under a mild illusion. Made sure you wouldn’t notice. It was child’s play. Too easy.”
She floated closer to him, mind slowly entering a kind of rage, everything starting to boil. Thinking of the alliance manipulating Shade that way—using him to their advantage like a trained guinea pig—it disgusted her.
Her hand flew to his neck, and she wrapped her fingers around it, tightening her grip just enough to block his airwaves, but not quite enough to snap his neck.
“If I was back in the real world,” she hissed at him, face inches from his, watching his asphyxiation with extreme pleasure, “with no one to protect, no one to care about…” She let go as suddenly as she’d grabbed him, ignoring his gasps and coughs as he struggled to stay airborne. “I’d kill you with my bare hands.”
And she went back to the tower.
• • •
There was a new duo guardin
g the entrance when Quinn returned: Charlie and Pence.
“Oh, thank God,” Pence breathed when she saw Quinn, exhaling audibly.
“What?” Quinn asked, not sure the ‘thank God’ was entirely necessary. She hadn’t been gone for long. “Why aren’t you two at the meeting?”
“We practically wrote the meeting,” Charlie said. “Someone had to stand guard. And my parents had to be the faces of it. Why aren’t you there? More importantly, why would you do that to us?”
“I just had to take care of something. What’s the big deal?”
“Quinn,” Pence said, shaking her head. “When Roxy told us what happened, we all thought you’d turned on us—gone to join Savannah. Or just fled.”
Quinn frowned. It had looked bad, she supposed, her escaping out of the foyer, nearly taking out Roxy in the process, and missing the meeting.
“You need to go see Dash,” Charlie told her. “He hasn’t come out of his room since Roxy told him. He was supposed to be the keynote speaker at this meeting.”
Quinn suddenly felt light-years worse. After all she had already put Dash through—after all they had put each other through—now she had done it to him again. How many times could the two of them question the other’s trustworthiness before giving up completely?
But she wasn’t ready to give up, and she wasn’t ready to let him give up on her. So she headed for the elevators.
“Third floor,” Pence told Quinn as she stepped in, and grinned slightly. “Though something tells me you already knew that.”
Quinn grinned devilishly back at her friend as the elevator doors closed.
Her grin faded as she watched the floors tick by. By the time she got to Dash’s floor, crossed the seemingly never-ending hallway, and wound up at his door, she had virtually no confidence left in her, nor any idea what she was doing.
It’s going to be okay, she told herself as she knocked, it’s going to be o—
“Go away,” he shouted through the door.
She raised her eyebrows at the unfamiliar sound of his voice. Was it just her, or were his words slurred?