Faceless

by Jus Accardo

  In the chair, Wentz took a deep breath. “So we’re all sleeping, then? You guys broke into Dromere to take a nap?” His lip hitched. “That’s ridiculous. The lounge chairs aren’t that comfy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I overheard Henley being ordered to come to Dromere. I followed him. Devin followed me and when she tried to interfere, Henley knocked her out. You were right on her heels and the minute you walked into the office, Henley injected you with something. Boom. You were out.”

  Devin stopped pacing and shot me a suspicious glare. “Hang on. What about Henley? And you? If Mr. Wentz and I were knocked out by Henley, how did you two get here?”

  “I got to Henley before he pumped everything in the needle into Wentz. I gave him the rest and he went down—but he won’t be down long, which is why—”

  Devin held her hand up. “That explains Henley. What about you? You didn’t just pull up a couch and drift off into dream land. You said you can only dream dive when you’re asleep.”

  “I hit my head,” I lied. “Passed out as Henley went down. I think that’s why I’m having so much trouble manipulating the dream. Injury.”

  This seemed to placate her, but not Wentz. “Go back a second,” he said. “What do you mean, you heard this Henley guy told to come to Dromere? Why?”

  “He’s here to kill you, Wentz. Kill you and steal the formula for Dromin12.”

  He stood from the couch and pinned me with a suspicious glare. “Steal the formula? Why?”

  “He’s one of them. A Six. You had it wrong. They don’t want to stop your research—they want to use it. These people did something bad—genetic research that went horribly wrong. They wanna give it another go and think your formula might hold the key to success, so they sent spies to get it from you. When that failed, they sent in Henley.”

  Wentz’s eyes narrowed. “Spies? You mean you.”

  The accusation and anger I saw in his eyes made me flinch. “Yes and no. It’s not like that. The genetic manipulation—an experiment to try and mess with Sixes abilities—went bad. Really bad. Someone I care about is in a lot of trouble and I needed to find a cure. I was spying on them to find it. But then I found out about your research…”

  His eyes narrowed. It was the first time I’d ever seen true anger in his eyes. “So you we’re going to try and steal it? Is that it?”

  “Of course not. After you told me what you were doing, I knew I couldn’t let them anywhere near it. I was at Dromere under the guise of helping them when I was really trying to keep them away from it. They want it to create an army of badasses. I need it to save someone I love.” Using the wall, I got to my feet. “Right now it doesn’t matter. You both need to wake up before Henley does or this conversation is moot. We’re all dead.”

  Wentz didn’t trust me anymore. I could see it in his eyes. But he was a smart guy. He recognized that this was bigger than the lie I’d told. “And how are we supposed to do that?”

  I turned to Devin. “Focus on opening your eyes. We talked about this. You can control your dreams. If you want to wake up, you can wake up.”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a moment I could see the panic setting in. “I can’t. Maybe I hit my head too hard. Maybe I’m—”

  “No,” I snapped. “You’re fine.” I turned to Wentz. “Focus. You can force your body to wake up.”

  “You said I was drugged. How am I supposed to push past that?”

  He was right. The drugs would make things harder, but not impossible. “Keep trying.”

  I brushed the filmy curtains aside in time to see Henley approaching the cabin. He’d broken through the wall and had an axe in his hand. Closing my eyes, I pictured a moat. Murky water. Impossibly wide. Full of snapping crocodiles.

  All that appeared was a thin, shallow stream Henley was able to step across without breaking a sweat. “Shit. We need to go.”

  “I don’t understand,” Devin said. “All those things you did in my dream—you can’t do them here?”

  “What things?” Wentz said, peering around me to look outside. “What things is she talking about?”

  “Normally I can—can change the landscape of the dream. Alter the details.”

  “Well then go for it. Alter that asshole out of my head. Or maybe stick us some place safe. Someplace with burgers—I’m starved.”

  A little of the Wentz I knew. That was a good sign.

  “I can’t make any major changes—I tried.”

  “Why?”

  I sighed. There was no point in not coming clean. “Because I’m currently bleeding to death on the floor of your office.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What?” Devin shrieked as a knock against the front door echoed through the room. A second later, she let out a scream as the blade of the axe slammed into the door, poking through to our side. I pulled her back as the axe disappeared—then reappeared a few inches below.

  I took several steps back, dragging Devin with me. Wentz was on his feet and at my side, staring at the door as Henley gave another chop.

  “Yeah. That injury preventing me from doing my thing in here? Not a head wound as much as a bullet to the gut.”

  Another swing of the axe. With this one, the door gave a pained groan, the frame quaking and shimmying in surrender as a medium-sized chunk caved in.

  I pushed Devin back and turned to Wentz. “You guys have to go. Please tell me there’s another way out.”

  Wentz opened his mouth to respond, but it was too late. Several additional blows and the whole door caved in, allowing Henley to step into the cabin.

  “I gotta say, Cain. I changed my mind. I really hope you don’t croak. I want you to be around for whatever Anderson has in store. He doesn’t suffer traitors. From what I understand, they still haven’t found the pieces of the last guy.” He shrugged and winked at Devin, swinging the axe up and over his shoulder. “Well, all of him, anyway.”

  “Do you have any idea what they’re doing at Zendean, Henley?” Devin tried. Before I could stop her, she took a step toward him. “They’re using us—Sixes. Do you really wanna be a part of that?”

  He hesitated, letting the axe slip from his shoulder to his side. Looking from Devin to Wentz, then finally to me, he frowned—then started laughing. “Is she for real?” He hefted the axe back onto his shoulder. “I’m doing what it takes to survive.”

  Her expression softened. “Anderson has something on you, doesn’t he?”

  He eyed her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Not really, no, but I am sick. And I was promised a cure.”

  I inched forward a step in an attempt to wedge myself between him and Devin. “He’s one of those people I told you about. The ones that are sick.”

  “If people were sick, why didn’t anyone just ask for my help?” Wentz stomped his foot, and to our surprise, the ground beneath his shoe rumbled a little, causing black lettering to appear on the ground in front of him.

  342-6CH=D12…

  Wentz looked down, eyes wide, and covered the lettering with his left shoe. “You’re not supposed to see that…”

  Henley smiled, then tapped his head. “I have one of those abilities. It lets me go into a person’s head and pretty much get every little detail about their life. If they knew it, I’ll know it. There’s only one tiny little hitch. It has to be in the moments after they die. Didn’t you wonder who’d been trying to off you for the last month?”

  The grenade. It’d been Henley.

  Wentz looked horrified. “I—”

  Without warning, Henley swung the axe at Wentz, missing him by inches. In fact, I didn’t think he actually missed. I could have sworn I saw a few tufts of dark hair flutter to the ground where he’d been standing.

  Devin screamed and scrambled to the left, out of his way, as he turned his attention to me.

  I stumbled to avoid him, tipping sideways and landing hard on the floor. A few feet in front of me was a penny—only it wasn’t copper. It was sort of black. Made o
f licorice, I realized. For some reason, whether it was the injury stealing my sanity, or the stress of the situation, I found it incredibly funny, and couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped my lips.

  Henley took it all in stride. Whirling around, he focused on Wentz, bringing the axe back and gearing up to swing forward. He was too close. He wouldn’t miss.

  Licorice penny forgotten, I kicked the back of Wentz’s knees, sending him to the ground beside me. He hit the floor hard enough to send the candy penny wobbling, a painful grunt escaping his lips, but Henley’s axe sailed harmlessly over his head and missed him by a wide margin.

  My name is Brandt Cross, and Dez is the one who lives for this kind of thing. Not me…

  “You’ve been a pain in my ass since the second you walked through the door, Cain,” Henley said as I scrambled on my backside toward the far wall. His attention was on me and I wanted to keep it there, while getting as far away from Wentz and Devin as possible.

  I glanced across the room at Devin. Our eyes met and she nodded, inching toward Wentz.

  Henley opened his mouth, pausing. He’d sort of flickered. Like the image on a television screen with interference. “What the—”

  The clock had run out. He was waking up.

  With one last flicker, Henley disappeared. One minute he was there, standing over me with the axe, the next he was gone and the axe was crashing down next to me.

  I pulled my leg to the right just in time to avoid getting skewered and turned to Wentz, swallowing the icy lump in my throat as the axe imbedded itself in the candy penny, splitting it in half. “Now. You—” There wasn’t much time. Every time I blinked, things got dark and watery. It took more and more effort to keep myself here, and moving was becoming too much of a chore.

  Cain’s body was dying.

  I was dying.

  And then something hit me. I was dying. If I went out with Devin and Wentz still in the dream, would they be trapped inside? Even worse than that—we were all lying on the floor in Wentz’s office.

  Together.

  Close.

  “You have to wake up now.”

  “I’m trying,” Wentz snapped. “If it’s so damn easy, you do it.”

  I glanced down and pulled at the front of my shirt. It was soaked and stained red. “Henley isn’t the only problem you guys have.”

  Devin took a single step forward, eyes wide and face pale.

  Wentz also paled, but it was the look on his face—one of horror and concern—that caught my attention. He didn’t hate me. “Cain, your shirt.”

  After all that’d happened, he didn’t hate me. He was my friend.

  And I wasn’t going to be responsible for killing him.

  I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate through the growing pain. If they wouldn’t wake up, I was going to have to do it. With me gone, they’d be ejected—I only hoped that my absence in the dream forced them to wake up. The sound of my voice got lower. It seemed to be drifting farther and farther away. I could feel the waking world tug lightly on my subconscious. Just a little farther and I’d be through—but I still needed their help.

  I needed to make sure Ginger got the formula, or this was all for nothing.

  “Wentz, I’m sorry I lied to you—but I need your help. You need to find a woman named Ginger Midlen. In Parkview. She needs that formula…”

  He shook his head. “We’ll find her together. I’ll help those people, Cain. Don’t worry.”

  I didn’t correct him. If I managed to get away from them in time we wouldn’t be doing anything. It’d be up to him. “You need to wake up and get as far away from me as possible. I think I’m about to die…”

  I opened my eyes. Everything was fuzzy, and I felt kind of numb, but I needed to move. I knew that. I just couldn’t remember how. Or why. Something. There was something I needed to do. Something I needed to stop.

  Someone groaned beside me. Then, a moment later, someone else. A girl.

  Devin.

  Wentz.

  Henley.

  Now I remembered.

  I needed to stop him before it was too late. I needed Ginger to have that formula.

  I pushed to my feet, swaying unsteadily. The bleeding was bad. I had no idea how much blood the human body could lose before it was lights out, but whatever the amount I had to be reaching critical mass by now. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, but judging by the puddle on the floor, and the lightheaded feeling, I was moments away from going down for good.

  There wasn’t much time. Things had to move. Now. A few feet away, Henley stood over Wentz, who was beginning to stir.

  I turned to Devin who had just pushed herself into a sitting position. “Get out!” I tried to yell. It came out more like a strangled choking sound. She didn’t move. Why didn’t she move?

  I’d explained it all to her. How it worked. If Cain’s heart stopped, I would jump into the nearest person. There was a one in three chance it’d be her. Those weren’t good odds. “Get away!”

  I tried to back up, but that only brought me closer to Wentz. He was getting to his feet and watching Henley and I with a mix of fear and awe. Like seeing us confirmed it hadn’t been some wonky dream.

  “Wentz. Get Devin and get out. Get away from me!”

  Like Devin, he didn’t move. I wondered what language I was speaking. French? Polish? Possibly gibberish…

  You’d think a smart guy like Wentz would understand gibberish…

  For a second, everything faded. The room got dark and all I could hear was the faint, uneven beat of my heart echoing in my ears.

  I didn’t have much strength left, but what I had, I threw at Henley who stood in front of Wentz beside the window. Either he wasn’t paying attention, or the knock I’d given him in Wentz’s dream had carried over to the real world. He didn’t even try to move out of the way.

  The glass shattered—but I didn’t hear it. Not really. I didn’t feel it, either, and I was kind of thankful for that. I’d fallen through a plate glass window as a kid. Stung like a mother…

  My name is Brandt Cross, and I’m about to die… Again.

  Maybe it was just as well. Not much was known about Soul Jumpers—I knew because I’d searched high and low. Did we have a limit? A set number of jumps? How long before all the personalities crammed inside one body rose up and knocked me off my rocker? It was bound to happen eventually, right? There was only so much room inside a head.

  It wasn’t a far fall—a few stories at best—but it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t feel the impact. I’d already be gone—for good this time. The chances of Henley surviving the fall were slim. There’d be no one to jump into. My friends would be safe.

  I’d already be…

  I’d…

  …

  Chapter Nineteen

  If it hadn’t been for the smell, I’d swear I was stuck inside a video game. Beeping and blipping and funny sounds. A few deep breaths. There was someone else in the room with me—wherever I was. I could hear them breathing. Possibly two someones.

  It took me a few tries, but when I finally opened my eyes, I saw him standing over my bed. Scowl firmly in place, Anderson looked down on me with clinical interest. “Awake now?”

  Beside him was a tall brunette woman with a deceptively warm grin and long nails. Nails, I’d joked, that reminded me of cat claws.

  Donna winked at me then leaned closer to Anderson, wrapping an arm around his waist in a disturbingly possessive fashion. Little pieces fell into place. Someone let Henley into Dromere. Donna had keys and wouldn’t arouse suspicion if seen there working late. And the restaurant. That’s how Anderson knew where we’d be. She’d told him.

  It’d been her. She was the third person Anderson had sent in. I felt bad for Wentz. He’d been crazy about her, and the entire time she was there to spy on him. “The nurse said they gave him some pretty hefty drugs. He might not be completely lucid just yet.”

  I moved my fingers and toes and tilted my head from sid
e-to-side. Yep. We had movement. I was awake. I was alive! “What—how long have I been here?”

  He stepped back and pulled up a chair. “It’s been a few days. What do you remember, Henley?”

  Henley had survived the fall from the window. Cain’s body was gone.

  I took a deep breath, not answering right away. My head felt remarkably clear. If a few days passed, then any lingering side effects from the jump must have dissipated while I was out. “I went to Dromere to get the formula from Wentz…” A bubble of anger—remnants of Henley—surfaced. “That asshole, Cain, followed me. He—he pushed me out the frigging window.” I glared. “Please tell me the bastard isn’t dead. I wanna do it myself.”

  “Cain is dead.” Anderson leaned back in the chair, face impassive. “Apparently Devin Glen was concerned about her father’s well being. She was there that night, too. She claims she broke in to get the files.”

  Crap. There was no telling what he’d do to Devin if he thought she was lying. He couldn’t find out she’d gone there with Cain. Then I had an idea. “She’s telling the truth.”

  Anderson’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “She came with me. Wentz is too valuable to lose.” I pushed myself up so I was seated in a more dignified position. “Say I got the formula from him as he died—then what? There’s no guarantee we would find someone able to make it work. Wentz is brilliant. I took Devin in a last ditch attempt to find the formula without killing him. I thought if I could force him to at least tell us which computer it was on, she could find it.”

  Anderson wasn’t convinced. “She said she searched all the computers in the facility and found nothing. Besides, it would have been pointless. Cain informed me earlier that night that the information was in Franklin Wentz’s mind.”

  “Cain was a liar. He was too close to Wentz. And Devin did search the computers, but she was looking for a file called Dromin12. We thought maybe it was called something else. It would have been easier to overlook.”

  “I see.” He stood. “Well, it paid off. We have the formula. I’ve already got the lab working on it. They’re combining it with the component we already have and I hope to have a test serum within a week. I have a good feeling about this. Domination will be a success.”