The Burning Shadow

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Hey, Coop?”

  He lifted his head, and his cloudy gaze met mine. “Hey.”

  I let my bag slip off my arm. “Dude, you look like crap. Are you okay?”

  “I feel like crap.” He ran his hand over his cheek.

  “You probably should’ve stayed home.” I slid into my seat and starting digging around in my bag.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “Got an exam next period. Probably hit the nurse’s office after that.”

  Zoe dropped into the chair behind me. “You do not look like you’re going to make it until next period.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Coop cradled his head in his arms. Within a couple of seconds, he looked like he was out. I dropped my bag on the floor as Mr. Barker walked into class, and like every day, he had that gross-looking smoothie in his hand.

  I started nibbling on my pen as something as wonderful as the photo Luc gave me and falling asleep to his laughter occurred to me.

  Things felt … well, they felt normal.

  I was still somewhat hungry, even after lunch. Zoe and I were no longer walking on eggshells with each other, and she was currently eyeballing the teacher like she was starving, and all of that was a normal Friday. It had been a normal week, actually.

  Muscles I didn’t even realize were tense relaxed. I needed this—the normalcy—because that was how I would deal with everything that happened. And I was dealing. Totally. Because the only other option was to curl up in a corner somewhere and rock back and forth, and while I had no idea who I really was, I knew that wasn’t me.

  Realizing that Mr. Barker had started to lecture, I scribbled down as much as I could of what he was talking about, ignoring Zoe as she repeated nearly everything Barker said under her breath … with a really bad English accent.

  I had my cheek smashed against my fist and my pen hovering over the paper when the door opened. A low-level hum entered the room. Mr. Barker didn’t stop talking as I peeked up and spotted the RAC drone enter the class.

  Drones.

  Ugh.

  The thing hovered about five feet off the floor, its black spindles whirling as it moved down the first aisle, stopping at each person to scan their retinas.

  No matter how many times I saw them at the mall or in class, they freaked me the hell out. Like, what if it got hacked and started poking people in the eyes with one of its spindle things at the bottom?

  Never once had I seen it poke someone’s eye out, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a reasonable fear.

  Even though I knew Zoe had her contacts in and it never hit on her before, my palms still felt sweaty as I thought about how every day at school she sat through this. Hidden just by a pair of contacts. And the others—the Luxen who couldn’t hide what they were? My stomach soured. Some thought the RAC drones were necessary. Part of me could even understand why they’d feel that way, but it was still an atrocious abuse of privacy. Even worse was that there was a percentage of the population who didn’t even consider that, since they didn’t think Luxen deserved the same basic rights.

  The drone beeped, a sound I honestly didn’t think I’d ever heard it make. The little drone was on the third aisle, waiting beside Coop’s seat. His chin was dipped, and sweat had dampened the hair at the nape of his neck. He wasn’t looking up like he was supposed to.

  “Coop,” Mr. Barker called out, a frown pulling at his mouth.

  Coop didn’t respond.

  The center of the drone spun, and it beeped again.

  Mr. Barker frowned as he rested his textbook on the podium and stepped in front of it. “Coop.” He spoke louder, harder. “You’d better not be asleep.”

  Coop wasn’t asleep. His knuckles were bleached white from how tightly he was gripping the edge of his desk. His large frame trembled.

  I laid my pen down and shifted uneasily in my seat. Concern filled me. I didn’t know Coop all that well, but I didn’t want to see him get in trouble.

  “I think he’s sick,” a girl named Kristen said. She was sitting next to Coop but was leaning away from him. “He really doesn’t look good at all. Does he have that flu that killed Ryan?”

  Murmurs of worry rose throughout the class as Mr. Barker strode down the aisle. “Coop, what’s going on?”

  Coop slowly lifted his head. I could only see his profile, and he was paler than he’d been when he’d entered the class. The drone locked into place, lining up with his eyes. The white light pulsed once and then twice.

  The light flipped red.

  A screech emanated from the drone, a low siren that increased until it sounded as if a police car were roaring through the classroom, and it was all that any of us could hear. I froze in my seat, eyes wide.

  What was happening?

  A tiny voice in the back of my head told me I knew what was going on even though I’d never seen it happen.

  “Hell,” I heard Zoe say under her breath.

  A great sense of foreboding took hold, sending an icy shiver spiraling down my spine.

  The RAC drone had hit on Coop, picking up alien DNA.

  8

  Face pale and drawn, Mr. Barker started backing up as chairs screeched across the floor. “Everyone stay calm,” he said, not sounding very calm at all. “I need everyone to keep calm and stay in their seats.”

  Zoe was already standing, but I was a statue in my chair, my heart pounding like a drum.

  This was impossible.

  The drone’s siren wailed as someone shouted over the noise, “Something’s wrong with it! Coop is a human!”

  More shouts of protest joined the first, but the drone kept screeching. Did it make mistakes? I had no idea. I’d never heard of that happening, but it had to be, because Coop was human. He wasn’t a Luxen, a hybrid, or an Origin.

  Unless he was like Zoe, hiding what he was?

  But why wouldn’t Zoe have said anything if that was the case?

  The drone inched back as Coop lumbered to his feet. He swayed as he let his head fall back. Sweat poured off his face, traveling down his neck in beads. A rosy flush mottled his once pale cheeks.

  Coop opened his eyes, and the air punched out of my lungs as someone screamed. Blood seeped from the corners of Coop’s eyes, coursing down his cheeks and into the corners of his open mouth. His chest was heaving as if he couldn’t breathe.

  Oh no.

  No. No. No.

  Mr. Barker stopped backing up, and his lips moved wordlessly. Or maybe he was saying the same thing I was, but the drone was drowning out the sound.

  Coop doubled over, retching and gagging. Liquid the color of blood and black tar spewed from him, splattering off the floor and the legs of chairs.

  Gasping in air, I pushed out of my seat and took a step back, bumping into Zoe. Her cool hand gripped my upper arm.

  “Coop,” I whispered, heart pounding. “Oh my God, Coop—” I started toward him without thinking.

  Zoe’s fingers dug into my arm. “Don’t. Something is so not right here.”

  That was the understatement of the year.

  Just then, Mr. Barker rushed toward Coop, concern replacing the confusion. He reached Coop, gripping the boy’s arm. “What’s wrong, Coop? Tell me what’s—”

  Everything happened fast.

  Coop swung his arm out, catching the drone with his forearm. The drone flew across the room, smacking into the side of another student’s head. The wailing of the siren stopped. Someone screamed as the boy went right down, out before he even landed, his face making a sickening cracking sound as he hit the floor. Blood pooled around him.

  Suddenly, Mr. Barker was flying across the room. I jumped back as our teacher slammed into the window and then went through it. Shards of glass flew like missiles, cutting through clothing and skin.

  Coop had thrown him.

  That wasn’t normal.

  Holy crap, none of this was normal.

  Shouts and shrill screams pierced the air, and Coop just raged out, picking up chairs and tables and thr
owing them. They broke apart against the chalkboard. Those close to the door bolted, but Zoe and I and everyone else near the broken windows were trapped.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Zoe said, her gaze darting around the room. Coop was tearing the classroom apart.

  “Really?” I breathed, yelping as a chair winged over our heads. “You think?”

  “You got any ideas? Because—”

  Coop ripped the leg of a chair off, just tore it right apart, breaking wood and metal. His strength was inhuman. He whirled and pitched it. The leg flew toward us—toward Zoe.

  I didn’t think.

  Spinning around, I pushed Zoe hard. She toppled sideways, and I followed. What felt like a piece of ice hit my left cheek a second before the chair leg crashed through the window directly where Zoe had been standing. That was how it felt at first, like an icicle was dragged across my cheek, and then it burned as glass rained down on us, catching in our hair.

  “Evie!” Zoe’s eyes went wide. “Your face.”

  Crouching next to her, I touched my face with a shaky hand and winced. “I’m … I’m fine.”

  “You know you didn’t need to do that,” she whispered through clenched teeth as she grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away. Blood tinged the tips of my fingers.

  We both jumped when something shattered near us again.

  “I have to do something.” Zoe still held on to my hand. “He’s going to hurt more people. I have to—”

  “No.” I pulled on her arm, my wide gaze swinging toward her. “You can’t. If you do…” I didn’t need to finish the sentence. If Zoe intervened, it would expose her to every single person in the class; the world didn’t know about Origins or hybrids. They’d think she was an unregistered Luxen, and unregistered Luxen …

  They disappeared.

  Zoe squeezed her eyes shut as she sucked in a ragged breath. Something else crashed above us, and she opened her eyes. “Evie, I have—”

  “Everyone down,” a male voice boomed. “Everyone down on the floor now, palms flat against the floor.”

  Officers dressed like SWAT members filed into the room, wearing all black and helmets that shielded their faces. They carried rifles, the long and scary kind. They didn’t look like the Alien Response Task Force. Not at all.

  Zoe pulled me down to my knees. Within seconds, our bellies were on the floor, our heads down. Coop turned to them, still on his feet.

  “This will be our last warning,” came the voice again. “Stop or we will stop you.”

  No. No. No. They couldn’t shoot Coop. He was sick. They couldn’t—

  It sounded like a zapping noise, a succession of rapid electricity firing. Coop jerked as the hooks dug deep into his shoulder. I expected him to go down. A Taser was no joke.

  But he didn’t.

  Coop took a step forward, toward the men.

  Another Taser fired. The hooks snagged him in the belly, and he kept going. He didn’t slow, knocking a chair aside even as a third Taser hit him in the leg. He was still standing, still charging toward them.

  How was that possible? Tasers and stun guns even affected Luxen.

  Classmates were prone on the floor, their faces pale, some bloodied, and all of them had their eyes squeezed tightly shut. I saw the boots of the officers at the doorway to the class. I saw Coop.

  Three Taser shots and he was still standing.

  “One more step and we will put you down!” one of the officers shouted. “Come on, bro. Don’t make us do this. Stop!”

  “Please,” I said under my breath, my fingers squeezing Zoe’s until I could feel the bones in her hand. “Come on, Coop, please just stop.”

  Coop didn’t.

  Blood was leaking from his nose and eyes now. And that blood didn’t look right. There was a bluish-black tint to it, and it shimmered.

  Oh my God …

  He threw his head back and roared. The sound caused me to jolt and Zoe to curse. Coop screamed so loudly and deeply, like he was being torn apart from the inside. There was a cracking sound—a sound of bones snapping.

  One of the officers with the long rifles stepped to the head of the pack. It sounded like a firework. A quick pop. Then a dime-size hole appeared in the center of Coop’s right thigh. His leg gave out, and he stumbled. Two of the officers launched over the overturned tables, tackling Coop. He fought them, throwing one of them off and breaking free. It took four officers to bring him down—four officers, three hits of a Taser, and a bullet to the leg.

  And he was still screaming, and all the while, I heard his bones breaking.

  * * *

  We were kept on the floor, on our bellies with our hands palms down until after Coop was removed from the classroom. It felt like an eternity stretched out—even though it had only been minutes—until an unfamiliar voice ordered us to stand and to leave the room in an orderly fashion.

  Escorted out of school, we weren’t allowed to go to our lockers or to stop. I stayed close to Zoe, and I didn’t remember the walk to my car or how I ended up in the passenger seat with Zoe driving, since she had her own car, but there we were. Without asking, I knew Zoe was driving to Foretoken.

  That made sense, because after what we’d just seen, Luc had to be told about it. Maybe he could even shed some light on it, because I had no idea what had happened to Coop. All I knew was that whatever happened to him sure as hell was not some flu.

  I held my book bag close to my chest and stared straight ahead like a little robot. After what had happened, the buildings reaching into the sky, the manicured lawns in front of the homes, and the cars filling the roads felt a little fake.

  Did the woman in the van at the stoplight beside us have any idea that Coop threw a teacher through a window? And then seriously injured another student? Did the driver of the city bus flying through the intersection know that Coop had vomited blood and the good Lord knows what else before freaking the hell out?

  Was Mr. Barker going to be okay? Or the guy that had smacked his head on the floor? I didn’t know.

  Since I’d figured this was going to hit the news soon, I’d texted my mom and let her know that I was okay. I hadn’t heard back from her, but that wasn’t uncommon. She was probably squirreled away in a lab somewhere.

  The normalcy of today had been all too brief.

  Squeezing my bag as if it were a giant stress ball, I exhaled long and hard. God, they’d shot him with a Taser. Shot him multiple times and with a real live bullet, and he still didn’t go down.

  “You okay?” Zoe asked as we pulled onto the street toward Foretoken.

  I nodded. “You?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Me neither,” I admitted. “I can’t believe that happened.”

  Zoe didn’t respond, and neither of us spoke as she parked and we crossed the busy street. Clyde met us at the front entrance, ushering us in with a grunt of acknowledgment. A Mr. Potato Head on the front of his shirt peeked out from behind a pair of blue-jean overalls.

  He caught my arm, his grasp surprisingly gentle for such a large hand. I looked up at him, and he nodded at me. “Face.”

  I didn’t know what he was referencing.

  The piercings in his eyebrows and cheeks glimmered in the bright ceiling lights as he jerked his chin at my face again and let go of my arm. “Got blood on your face, girl.”

  “Oh.” I reached for my cheek. There was a dull sting there that I’d forgotten about. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “Luc’ll see it and react like it’s a gunshot wound,” he grumbled, and Zoe snorted her agreement. Clyde reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red-and-white handkerchief. “It’s clean.”

  I didn’t get a chance to protest. Clyde was quick as he played nurse, carefully wiping away the trace of blood.

  “Thank you,” I said when he was done.

  He grumbled something again. “Luc’ll probably still see it.”

  I really hoped not.

  Clyde walked away then, disappeari
ng into the darker recesses of the main club floor. I turned, following Zoe toward the employee entrance. It was always strange to me to see the club like this, empty of people and chairs on tables.

  We’d just reached Luc’s floor when the door swung open, and there was Luc, dressed in jeans and a camouflage shirt that said YOU CAN’T SEE ME.

  I squelched the laugh crawling up my throat, because in light of things, it seemed inappropriate.

  “Emery just told me what happened. Heidi told her,” he announced, his gaze flickering over Zoe to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I let go of the railing as I glanced at Zoe. “What do you know?”

  “That some kid flipped out in class and threw a teacher through a window?” He held the door open for us.

  “Yeah, that’s, like, one-tenth of the story.” Zoe walked through. “Is Heidi on her way?”

  “I guess so.” Luc frowned as I slipped past him. I made it about a step, and then suddenly, he was in front of me.

  I stumbled back. “God. I hate when you move like that.”

  “You’re injured,” he said, lifting his hand and placing his finger on my cheek. Only then did he look to where Zoe waited by his door. “What happened?”

  Dammit, Clyde was right. “Injured? I’m not—”

  “You have a cut.” His jaw was hard as his chin dipped down. “How is that not being injured?”

  “I’m totally fine.”

  A muscle flexed along his jaw.

  “She pushed me out of the way of a chair leg that had been turned into a projectile,” Zoe explained. “I already told her that wasn’t necessary.”

  Pulling away from Luc, I spun toward Zoe. “How was that not necessary? You could’ve ended up with a chair leg in your head.”

  “I would’ve moved out of the way before that happened.” She paused. “I’m fast like that.”

  “She wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Luc tugged on the sleeve of my shirt, and I faced him. “And while it was rather admirable of you to look out for her and I’m sure Zoe appreciates it—”

  “I do,” Zoe chimed in.

  “It wasn’t necessary,” Luc finished. “You know what she is.”

  “Just so everyone is on the same page, if anyone throws a chair leg at the head of someone I care about and I can intervene,” I said, “I’m going to intervene. I’m not just going to stand there.”