“Why? Because you already know the answer?”
Luc didn’t respond, and he didn’t look smug about it, either. Instead, he changed the subject. “I know you were upset with me earlier.”
“What gave that away?”
A half smile appeared. “I think you’re brave—”
I laughed outright at that. “I’m not brave.”
He lifted his brows. “You say that even though a handful of hours ago you were dealt another life-changing blow.”
“Oh, I may seem like I’m dealing with that, but I’m probably going to need years of intensive therapy.” I paused. “If there’s such a thing for possible alien experiments.”
Experiment.
That’s what I was, wasn’t I?
God, that was just as hard to process as learning the truth of who I was.
Luc was undaunted. “Not only that, you had to defend yourself. You took a life today, and you had to do that, but I know that’s not something easy to process.”
He would know, wouldn’t he? A shiver coursed through me. Truth was, I couldn’t let myself think about the fact that I had killed someone … or the fact that I felt no guilt. Did that mean something was wrong with me? Like, shouldn’t I feel—
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Luc answered, eavesdropping on my thoughts. “You did what you needed to do.”
I was pacing in front of him, fiddling with the piece of obsidian. “Like you do?”
Luc nodded. “There are times I feel no guilt. None. It’s not always like that.”
I thought about the young Origins. “You’re brave, Luc. You do things no one else would want to do so that others are protected.”
“And you volunteered to possibly go through what sounds like the worst pain possible again,” he insisted. “And you’re ready to face Sylvia, knowing what that could mean.”
She could tell us nothing or she could tell us everything, and if it were the latter, I didn’t know what I would do.
But it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.
“If that doesn’t make you brave, I don’t know what does.”
It made me … desperate to know what the hell I was and what could happen.
“No.” Luc reached out, catching my hand. He tugged me down onto his lap. His gaze caught mine.
“You’re so much like who I knew you as. You have no idea. You’ve always been brave. You’ve always been strong.”
I relaxed into him.
“You faced the cancer diagnosis the same way. Just dealt with it. Did you get upset? Yes. Did you break down a time or two? Yes.” Letting go of my hand, he splayed his fingers along my cheek. “But you got up every day, and you faced it. Just like you’ve gotten up every day since you learned who you really are. That’s strength, Peaches. The real kind.”
That was what Zoe had said. “I just feel like I have no control over anything. Neither of us knows what is going to happen.” My voice dropped as if I was worried about being overheard. “I could mutate. I could … Anything is possible.”
Sliding his hand to the back of my head, he drew my forehead to his. “If something like that happens, I’m going to be here. I won’t let you run off. I won’t let you forget.”
“Promise?” I whispered.
“Never again,” he swore, his nose brushing mine. “And I know you will get through it. Not because of me, not because of your friends, but because of you.”
The next breath I took was shaky. Maybe … just maybe both of them were right. Perhaps I was brave in my own way. I was strong, and if that was true, if what he said was right, then I could face what was to come … whatever it was.
Letting myself believe in that loosened some, not all, of the tension in my shoulders, and I wasn’t sure if he knew how much that meant to me.
I closed the tiny distance between us and kissed him, hoping that he could feel what I did even if I didn’t have the courage to say it, or think it, because even though I could be as brave as he said I was, there were still some things that terrified me.
What I knew I was beginning to feel for him was one of them.
His gaze snapped over my shoulder, to the television. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” I followed his gaze to the TV. The volume rose, and unless the TV had become self-aware, I figured I knew who was responsible for it. “Him again.”
A wry grin twisted his lips. “He’s on TV a lot.”
“Seriously. I don’t think there’s ever been a president on TV as much as President McHugh,” I commented.
Luc snorted.
The president was giving some kind of briefing outside, in what I guessed was the White House Rose Garden. Along the bottom there was yet another BREAKING NEWS banner, announcing that the House had not passed the bill that would change the Alien Registration Program, or the Twenty-eighth Amendment that recognized and afforded the Luxen the same rights as humans.
The president was obviously not happy about it.
“When I campaigned to be the president of these great states, I did so on the promise that I would make America safe once more, and today’s vote is a disappointment.” He stared directly into the camera, doing that creepy non-blinky stare thing. “These changes to the ARP are both necessary and inevitable. Within the last forty-eight hours alone, there was an attack in Cincinnati by two unregistered Luxen terrorists—and make no mistake, that is what they are. Terrorists.”
A muscle flexed along Luc’s jaw as his fingers made quick work of the tiny buttons on my sweater.
Nothing knocked you out of the mood quicker than seeing the president on TV.
“There are Luxen who want to play by the rules—the changes to the ARP will keep them safe. There are Luxen who don’t want to play by the rules and who want to hurt us,” President McHugh continued. “And that is why I cannot in good conscience stand by and do nothing to protect the people I was voted to protect. I am issuing an executive order that will implement these changes into the Alien Registration Program.”
I slid off Luc’s lap and onto the bed.
“Not only that, I am issuing an executive order to reinstate the Patriot Act and the Luxen Act, allowing all branches of the government, including the military, to take unprecedented action.”
Could he do this? I had no idea. I mean, I knew how basic levels of the government worked. The whole checks and balances thing. The House. The Senate. The judicial branch. Could the president just issue an order and it be followed?
The president was still looking directly into the camera when he said, “These changes will go into effect immediately and will have the full force of the law, under the Constitution of the United States of America.”
Luc stiffened as he murmured, “So it begins.”
* * *
“Evie, wake up.”
Groaning, I rolled onto my belly and planted my face in the pillow. It couldn’t be morning yet. I hadn’t heard my alarm go off.
Mom’s hand landed on my shoulder, shaking me. “I need you to wake up.”
I shook her hand off, thrusting my arm under my pillow.
Mom shook me again. “Honey, I need you to get up. Now.”
Something about her tone reached through the cobwebs of sleep, and everything that had happened earlier slammed into me. April. The questions. The president on TV and then Luc getting a call from Grayson an hour later. The officer was back—Officer Bromberg, enforcing a mixture of the Luxen Act and the Patriot Act. He’d demanded access to the club, and he wanted to see Luc. I’d wanted to go with him, but Luc didn’t want me there until he knew what Bromberg was up to.
He’d promised to come back, and I waited all evening for him and for Mom, eventually changing into my pajamas and then falling asleep. Part of me couldn’t believe that I had, after everything.
Had something happened?
My heart kicked against my chest as I rolled onto my side. The room was dark, but I could make out Mom’s outline. She was leaning over me, one of her hands planted on the bed
next to me. Some of the cobwebs of sleep cleared. Clearly, it was still night.
“Is it Luc?” I asked, scrubbing my hand down my face.
“No,” she answered. “I need you to get up.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s a little after two.” Mom backed away from the bed as I dropped my hand. “I need you to get up,” she repeated.
A second later, the ceiling light came on, flooding the room with a stark white glow. Wincing, I threw my arm up to shield my eyes from the bright glare. Mom hurried over to my dresser and crouched in front of it, grabbing what appeared to be my undies.
What the…?
“What are you doing?” I rose onto my elbows. “Did you get my message—”
“There’s not a lot of time to explain,” she said without looking at me. “And I need you to do exactly what I tell you, Evie, because they’re coming for you.”
27
Icy fear paralyzed me. Some kind of primal instinct told me who they were, and I knew, I just knew.
“The Daedalus?” I asked.
Mom rose swiftly from the dresser and hurried to my side. Kneeling down, she clasped my hand in her cold ones. I stared at her, my chest rising and falling heavily. “I’m sorry,” she said, her face pale. The thin lines at the corners of her eyes seemed deeper than normal, more noticeable. “I’m so sorry.”
“What’s going on? Where’s—?”
“Oh, Evie.” Mom closed her mouth and shook her head before she squeezed my hand. “Things at work have gotten out of hand.”
“You know what happened today?” I asked.
Her eyes searched mine as she clasped my cheeks. Her hands were like blocks of ice. “Things are about to start happening, and when they do, it’s all going to happen fast. Do you understand?” Letting go, she rose. “People won’t even realize until it’s too late.”
“People won’t realize what?”
She let out a shaky breath as she swallowed hard. “It was a part of the plan. From the beginning. They let all of this happen, but they lost control, and we need to leave.”
“What plan? What are you talking about?” Nausea twisted my stomach. “Do you know what—?”
“Yes. I know. So do they.”
I stared at her from where I sat. If she knew and they knew, then that meant she’d always known. And then she’d lied.
“I’ll explain what I can, but I need you to get up and get ready.” Mom turned to my desk. I saw my purple weekender bag sitting there, the cute one with the blue polka dots. It looked packed full. “Just do what I’m asking. Please.”
Rising on shaky legs, I watched her walk over to my closet. She snatched a pair of dark-rinse jeans off the shelf. “Here. Put these on.”
Feeling way out of it, I took the jeans from her and dropped them on the bed. She grabbed a sweater. The hanger spun and fell to the bottom of the closet. The fact that she didn’t pick up the hanger or comment on how messy my closet was freaked me out more than anything. She’d lied—she’d been lying, but the way she was acting …
Something bad was going down.
She handed the sweater over to me. “Evie, I really need you to get dressed now.”
For a few seconds, I couldn’t move, and then I took the sweater. Mom’s hands were shaking as she smoothed the flyaway hair back from her face. She was dressed like she’d just gotten home from work. Dark slacks and a white blouse. She was even wearing what she called her sensible pumps, black shoes with a low heel. She’d obviously come straight from Fort Detrick.
Mom stopped in front of me again, cupping my cheek with one hand and brushing my hair back with the other. “God, Evie, I never wanted this day to come.”
Air hitched in my throat as I dropped my shirt on the bed and clasped her wrists. “You know what happened to me?”
“Please, Evie. There’s no time.” Her eyes, those brown contacts, met mine. They were watery. “It’ll be okay, I promise you, but I need you to get ready.”
I didn’t believe her for one second.
Even if everything that happened today never had, being woken up like this in the middle of the night did not mean things were going to be okay.
Leaning down, Mom pressed her lips to the center of my forehead. “I know you have questions, but I need you to trust me.”
My lower lip trembled as I took a step back. “But I don’t.”
She flinched as if I’d smacked her, lowering her hands. “I deserve that. I do. But please, get ready.”
Suddenly wanting to cry and scream all at once, I forced myself to nod as my stomach flipped and flopped. Shimmying out of my bottoms, I grabbed the jeans and pulled them on.
Where was Luc?
Mom walked to the foot of the bed as she pulled out her cell phone and glanced down at it. “Come on,” she murmured, pressing her lips together as her finger tapped on the screen. “Come on.”
Keeping an eye on her, I grabbed a bra from my dresser and hooked the tiny clasp in the front.
I knew without a doubt, I was not going anywhere with her.
My foot, the left one, started tapping nervously as I pulled the sweater that was more of a heavy shirt on over my head, unease forming like balls of lead in my stomach. Everything felt surreal as I straightened the worn cotton.
Walking over to where my flats were by the desk, I toed them on. There was a thick envelope next to the bag. I picked it up and opened it. “Holy crap.”
Hundred-dollar bills were neatly lined up in the envelope. There had to be over a thousand dollars there. Probably even a couple of thousand. A dark green billfold was at the end of the wad of cash. A passport. I pulled it out and almost fell over.
A picture of me smiled back. The same picture from my driver’s license, but the name under it was not Evie Dasher.
It wasn’t even Nadia’s name.
The unease spread like a noxious weed. “Who the hell is Stephanie Brown?” I turned to her. “It’s a fake ID and money.”
“Just get ready,” she repeated, taking the money from me and placing it by the bag. “Now.”
I stared at her. “You need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”
“Evie—”
“You’ve been lying to me since the beginning!” I shouted at her, heart racing. “If you know what happened to me today, then you’ve always known that there is … there is something inside me.”
“Please, I’ll explain—”
“You took my life from me, and you just expect me to trust you?”
“And I’m trying to give your life back to you—”
Glass exploded.
Mom’s body jerked as if someone had pushed her. She stumbled forward. The cell phone bounced off the carpet. She opened her mouth as her chin dropped.
Everything seemed to slow down.
I saw the broken window and the billowing curtains behind her, and then I followed her gaze. She was looking at the front of her pretty white blouse—the pretty white blouse with a quarter-size red splotch in the center.
She took a step, and her knees gave out. She folded like a sack, falling onto her back before I could draw in another breath.
The red stain spread so rapidly that her entire chest was covered in seconds.
I was rooted to where I stood, and then every muscle reacted. I sprang forward. “Mom! Oh my God, Mom!” I dropped onto my knees beside her. “Mom!”
She opened her mouth as she blinked rapidly, her hands fluttering in the air. That wasn’t a stain on her blouse. It was blood, so much blood. “Evie…”
Horror swamped me as I pressed my hands down on her chest, a horrific sense of history stuck in a vicious cycle overwhelming me. Heidi. Luc. Mom. Blood soaked my palms.
“No. No, this isn’t happening.” A knot swelled in my throat, threatening to choke me. “This isn’t happening!”
Mom’s slim body spasmed as she grabbed at me. Her fingers dragged over my arm. Her eyes widened.
No. No. No. No.
I pushed on her chest, but it didn’t help. I thought I might’ve made it worse, because wet warmth poured through my fingers. A tremble took hold, making it hard for me to keep my hands steady.
“You’re going to be okay,” I told her, voice thick. Phone! I needed to call Luc. He could heal her. “It’s going to be okay. I need to call—”
She gripped my wrist as I lifted my hands and reached for the phone she’d dropped. “I tried.” A thin streak of blood trickled out from the corner of her mouth, and I knew, oh God, I knew that was bad. I’d watched enough Life in the ER reruns to know that. “No matter … what, Evie.” Her breath rattled as she drew in air that didn’t appear to go anywhere, didn’t seem to help at all. “I love you … I’ve loved you like you were mine, and I … I tried to make this … right, but it’s … it’s too late. He’s coming … for you. I’m sorry.”
“No,” I whispered, and I didn’t know what I was saying no to.
She let go of my wrist, and her hand fell to the floor. Her chest rose, but that was it, and her stare fixed on me, but I knew she wasn’t seeing me.
A prickly sensation danced over my skin. It was like being split in two. One part of me was logical and knew what was happening. Mom had just been shot through my bedroom window and she was gone, the bullet striking her somewhere not even a Luxen could survive, or it was a bullet designed to take out a Luxen. I wasn’t sure, but I knew she was past saving, and yet I didn’t because I couldn’t accept it.
I grabbed her shoulder, shaking her slightly. My fingers smeared blood over the neck of her blouse. “Mom?”
There was no response.
“Mom!” This wasn’t happening. Oh my God, this wasn’t happening. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I leaned over her. My bloodstained hands hovered uselessly over her. “Don’t do this. I’m not mad at you. I’m not. I’m sorry. I trust you. I—”
A faint light flickered under her blouse, like a flashlight going on and off. My gaze flew to her face, and from her mouth, liquid radiance spilled. Jerking back, I fell onto my butt as a dull light replaced her pale skin, and her body … wasn’t hers. I saw the shape of hands and features of her face, but there were silvery veins under semitransparent skin.
The Burning Shadow Page 31