Time slowed. A scream spilled from my lips, the agonized sound bouncing off the walls and echoing through the corridor. I threw myself forward to catch the vial as it dropped over the side of the banister, but it was too far. The tips of my fingers brushed the edge but instead of drawing it closer, I flicked it farther away. Horrified, I watched as it fell, crashing not into the large tank of water but to the concrete floor below and shattering, the small amount of liquid splattering everywhere.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My future was there on that floor. On the stairs above me, Kiernan laughed, and when I climbed to my feet and turned, Kale was backing her up against the wall. The tips of his finger swirled black.
I grabbed his arm and pulled back. “Stop—this is between us. Me and her.”
If Kale disagreed, he didn’t show it. With a simple nod, he stepped back to our landing as I took his place in front of the girl who had tried so hard to shred my life to bits. There was no fear in her eyes. Only resentment.
I knew the feeling. Any love or sympathy I had for my sister was officially gone.
“You had everything,” she whispered.
“So you decided to take it?” I countered. “I have a newsflash for you, Kiernan. You didn’t get to grow up with your father—lucky, by the way—but neither did I. Marshal Cross isn’t my dad.”
She looked like a five-year-old who had just been informed the Tooth Fairy was a fraud. “Liar!”
“Why the hell would I lie about that? He told me himself. He’s not my flesh and blood—he’s yours. And trust me, you can have him.”
She started to speak but I pushed forward, knocking her flush against the wall.
“You had to see who he was—what he was doing. And you still helped him. You helped him burn down the hotel. You killed Rosie. You took Kale from us. From me. And why—so you could get the approval of a man who doesn’t give a crap about you?”
“My father loves me!” she screamed. But there was no conviction in her words. She didn’t believe it any more than I did.
“No, Kiernan. He doesn’t. Marshal Cross doesn’t love anyone. He’s not capable of love. You’re so desperate to win his approval that you don’t see what’s really going on.”
I took a deep breath. “I thought we were blood,” I said, grabbing her hand. “I could have forgiven almost anything. You were confused. He played you. I understand that. Sleeping with Kale, helping Able—I might have been able to get over all that. Eventually. Because you did it to me. But what you did to Rosie—and Kale? Dropping that vial didn’t just kill me, Kiernan. It killed other people. Innocent people. People I care about.” I leaned closer. “Those are lines you shouldn’t have crossed.”
Kiernan let out a nervous laugh. “So, what? You’re going to kill me?”
I hadn’t crossed that line yet—and I hoped I’d never have to. As much as a large part of me wanted to, I wasn’t going to start with her. Backing away, I let go of her hand and said, “I don’t have to. If you stick with Cross and Denazen, you’re killing yourself.”
“Maybe—but at least you went first.” She wasn’t looking at me. Her head was tilted up.
The next few things were kind of a blur. Kiernan winked and stepped aside. At the same time, two echoing pops split the air. I didn’t know what they were at first and there was no time to react. For a normal person, at least.
In a flash, Kale shot forward and elbowed Kiernan in front of me, while at the same time yanking me hard down the first two steps. She screamed and lunged forward, but Kale pulled me from her path and she fell to the landing. I blinked. Just once. One minute Kale was beside me, the next he was propelling himself up the stairs toward the agents who had burst into the lab.
I watched for a minute as they danced on the landing above us—trading blows and swinging back and forth in what looked like a choreographed Hollywood fight scene. One swung and Kale ducked, sending him over the banister. His screams faded, ending with an echoing thump as his body crashed to the ground below, to the left of where the vial had fallen.
Kale loved the thrill of the fight but had obviously had enough. At the tips of his fingers, the black mass began to swirl, and the remaining agent—the one who’d fired the gun—took a step back.
I was so wrapped up in watching Kale, I’d forgotten all about Kiernan. Unfortunately, she hadn’t forgotten about me. She was climbing to her feet, blocking me from the stairs—and Kale. The front of her light gray T-shirt was splattered with macabre red and I thought she might have spilled some of the vial on her.
She saw me watching her and laughed. No. It was more like a cackle. She tugged at the shirt and I could hear the wet sound it made, sick and wrong. With a nod toward my shoulder, she said, “I know, I know. It’s worse than yours. Probably fatal.”
Mine?
I followed her gaze and nearly crumbled. The air left my lungs in a single, chilling breath. Down the front of my shirt was my own trail of macabre blood, spilling from a sick-looking hole in my shoulder. One I hadn’t even noticed.
“But don’t feel bad. If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”
And with an almost inhuman roar, Kiernan charged me. It all happened so fast. Half a heartbeat. A fraction of a moment. I heard Kale call out as the ground beneath my feet disappeared and the world flipped. One minute Kiernan’s hands were wrapped around my throat, the next a sharp sting assaulted my entire body. Like a full-body slap—then icy cold water all around.
The force of the impact separated us, and I fought against the urge to suck in a deep breath. Surface. I needed air. My foot came in contact with something solid—Kiernan. She made an attempt to grab my ankle, but I avoided her and kicked hard for the surface. My head crested the water, and I lunged for the rim of the tank to haul myself out, but she grabbed my leg and forced me under again. I managed a shallow breath before I went down, but it wasn’t enough.
My lungs were on fire, and my heart felt like it would explode at any moment. Kiernan, with her singular focus on dragging me to the grave with her, didn’t give up. Each time I pushed her away, she came at me with a renewed sense of energy.
In a panic, I started thrashing. My knee collided with the side of her head, sending her far enough away for me to make one last escape attempt—only I couldn’t. Kiernan was no longer holding me back, having drifted away and down to the bottom of the tank, but I couldn’t move. My foot was stuck on something. Frantic, I twisted and bent, trying to find the source, but my time ran out. Everything dimmed around the edges, and my entire body went numb.
I don’t know how long it lasted. One minute I was giving in to the inevitable, the next, a soft voice was calling my name. Over and over. Begging and pleading for me to stay.
“Dez,” it breathed. Warmth pressed against my lips, followed by a burst of air. A second later, a foul rush of fluid surged up my throat, choking off my newly found source of air. Strong hands rolled me onto my side, allowing me to breathe easier.
“You weren’t breathing. Dez, I thought you—”
I tried to sit up, but nothing happened. “Kiernan—”
“Stay as still as you can.” He pulled the hoodie over his head, the edge of his shirt catching and riding up to reveal well-toned muscle. Normally I wouldn’t have an issue with the view, but I got the distinct feeling something was wrong.
He wadded the hoodie into a ball and slammed it against my shoulder. I tried to wriggle free—the pressure didn’t hurt, though it felt weird—but he was too strong.
“Dammit,” he cursed, and I tried not to laugh. It sounded so strange coming from his lips.
I tried again to pick up my head, but it felt as though someone were holding it down. I did manage to turn it sideways—and was sorry I had. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from my lips as my heart skipped a beat. I’d forgotten all about getting shot.
“Shh!” he whispered in my ear, arms slipping beneath my legs and behind my head.
The world tilted sideways, and then up
. “I don’t feel anything. Did I—” I squinted into the tank below. There was a dark, unmoving figure at the bottom. “Is she—”
“It’s not bad,” he said, taking the steps faster than I would have dared. They were metal, and everything was soaked from me dripping everywhere. “It’s not bad.”
I wanted to tell him that when people repeated themselves—him in particular—that was the very definition of bad, but I didn’t. Or couldn’t. My lips, like my head, were too heavy to move.
Kale’s expression was fierce. Oddly familiar. As everything faded to black I figured out why the painting in the holding room looked so damn familiar.
I just hoped I lived long enough to tell someone.
33
“Am I dead?”
Brandt-as-Henley rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Would I be the first person you saw right before entering the Pearly Gates?”
“Fiery pits of hell maybe,” I mumbled, sitting up. I was curled around a large, soft pillow, scrunched in a comfy armchair. “Did we make it? Is everyone okay?”
“More or less.”
More or less? I didn’t love that answer.
“So I missed it all? The big escape?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t miss much. Actually, consider yourself lucky. Ginger has been on a rampage over Kale’s little stunt at the airport.”
“Kale’s—” Then I remembered. He’d used his ability in front of a huge crowd. “Oh, crap.”
“Yeah. She’s been playing damage control all day.” Brandt winked and waggled his brows. “Cabin’s a bit more crowded now, too. That goth guy came back with us. A hot chick named Carley, too.”
I was right. We were totally going to have to expand. “Kale?”
“He’s okay,” Brandt confirmed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“So, let’s not beat around the bush. I was shot, right?”
He frowned. “Yeah. You were.”
“And I almost drowned.”
“The way Kale tells it, you did drown. He said you stopped breathing. Poor guy looked physically ill just telling Sue about it.”
“So the gunshot thing, am—am I okay? You said ‘more or less’ when I asked if everyone was all right.” I took another look around the room. The ceiling was papered with Powerman 5000 posters and the air smelled like coffee. “I’m in some freaky coma, aren’t I?”
“Nah. It’s not that bad. You’re dreaming. I wanted to pop in and see you. You were pretty lucky. It shattered bone. You’ll be rocking a cast for a while, since, oddly, we don’t have a healer, but you’re gonna be okay.”
I let out a relieved breath.
“Kale told us what happened to the blood, Dez, and that the Domination we have is no good.”
“I failed,” I said miserably, letting my head fall into my hands. “I blew my life and all the other Supremacy kids’ lives.”
“Not necessarily. Wentz is working on it. He’s got an idea. If this works, then you saved them, Dez.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant, but he was gone. And so was I.
…
If there was one sound I hated worse than whistling, it was humming. Everyone knew this. I’d once given Alex a fat lip for humming after repeatedly begging him to stop. It wasn’t him—the pitch was wrong—but someone was in the room with me.
Humming.
“Oh my God, dude. That is the most grating sound in the world.”
The whistler laughed. An amused chuckle, followed by something warm tugging up around my shoulders. When I opened my eyes, I gasped. “You!”
Vince leaned back in his chair and sighed. Brown eyes peeking out from under a mop of black-as-night hair. “I suppose that answers my question.”
“And I suppose that answers mine,” I replied, hefting myself into a sitting position. My arm was in a sling and my fingers felt numb—the beauty of painkillers if I had to guess—and both my legs were asleep. But I knew what I was looking at. I was looking at the guy from the painting.
Vince smoothed the bedspread, pulling the corner up and around the edge. “What question would that be?”
“Whether or not I was crazy.”
“I take it you saw the painting,” he said with a sad smile.
“W.V.K?”
“Winston Vincent Kale—or, as my current driver’s license says, Vincent Winstead.” He extended his hand. “Very pleased to meet you.”
I took his hand, realizing how incredibly surreal the whole thing was, and shook my head. “Winston Kale. As in, a descendant of Miranda Kale’s?”
“Winston Kale, as in, the one and only. Ginger has her facts confused. Both she and Kale are relatives of mine, not Miranda’s. Miranda had no living descendants. She and my son died from the black plague not long after I drove them away.”
“Let’s forget a ton of things—mainly that if you’re who you say you are, you’re, like, ancient—and focus on the big issue. You’re saying that you’re Miranda Kale’s husband? You’re the sonofabitch who started Denazen?”
He sighed and stood. “There is so much you all don’t understand. About me, about Miranda—about Denazen. Things are not what you think. Denazen is not what you think.” He frowned. “At least, it wasn’t.”
“I can’t tell if the pain meds are sending me on one hell of a trip or if you’re really standing here.”
“I reacted badly to Miranda’s confession about being a Six—not that we called them Sixes in my day. In those times, things like that were considered dark. Evil. I treated her horribly and not a day goes by that I don’t regret it.”
I still couldn’t wrap my brain around it. “But you’d have to be hundreds of years old. No one lives that long.”
“I’m a Six, Dez. I devoted a lot of time, after losing my wife and child to ignorance, to research, and I believe that I’m the first Six. I traced lineage on hundreds of different lines and from what I can tell, my body was the first born with the genetic abnormality. I was born in Virginia in 1810. My mother died in childbirth—as so many did back then—but it was because of a strange infection affecting pregnant women. Between June and December of that year, twelve women contracted the infection—all dying in childbirth. Neighboring towns panicked. They crept in one winter’s night and burned the town and all its inhabitants to the ground.”
I let my head fall into my hands and squeezed my eyes closed. “This isn’t really happening.”
Vince grabbed my hands and pulled them away. “It is, and you need to listen because I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of time. All modern-day Sixes are descended from one of the children born in Tunstal between June and December of 1810. There were twelve of us. Ten survived the town fire. After Miranda and my son died, it brought the number to nine. Nine people survived to produce offspring and carry on the abnormality. Nine of us: the mothers and fathers of the Six race.”
A thought turned my stomach and kicked up a heap of bile. “All related. Oh, God. Is there any chance Kale and I—”
“Are not related. Kale is from my line. You are from another. But I digress. I created Denazen as a haven for people like us. A place we could always go and be ourselves.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Well then you failed, man. In case you hadn’t noticed, Denazen is kind of the polar opposite.”
“Again, you think you know what’s going on, but you haven’t even scratched the surface. Cross? The other heads of division? They’re nothing more than worker drones.” He stepped away from the bed. “I turned my back on Denazen some time ago, and because I chose to walk away instead of fight, it has become what it is today. You and Kale made me see my error. By risking yourselves to warn me—warn the others—you renewed my faith.”
“It was you!” I exclaimed, recalling our visit to Ben Simmons’s apartment. “Ben’s roommate said three people came looking for him. Kale and me, Aubrey and Able—and you.”
“I feared he wouldn’t be found in time. He was essential to my plan…”
“You’re talking in circ
les. Plan?”
He smiled. It was weak and full of unspoken sadness. “I have to leave. There are things to do and further information to gather. I don’t expect you not to tell the others who I am, but I beg you to please give me a full day’s grace.” He backed toward the door, eyes never leaving mine. “Please believe that I am on your side and truly wish to right the wrongs I’ve committed. We will see Denazen fall.”
“And that’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me? Not what information or who’s really in charge—not to mention what the hell they’re really doing?” I slapped a hand down against the bed. “And more specifically, why tell me? There’s, like, a crapload of other, more powerful Sixes out there. Why do the big reveal to me?”
“Ginger has seen Kale’s destiny. Fated to become the Reaper, he will be crucial to bringing down those who wish to enslave us all. But he’s not the only one. There are others. Others like you. You are also crucial.”
Crucial? Nothing like dumping a twenty-ton weight on a girl’s shoulders. “So then what exactly are they doing?”
“What they’re doing, Deznee, is readying for war. Think about the limitless power that comes with limitless resources. Control the governments, the economy—the people—and you control the world. The people behind Denazen, the real puppet masters, want nothing short of that.” He opened the door, pausing. “Take care of Kale. He is, after all, my own flesh and blood.” Vince winked. “And the fabled Reaper.”
And before I could reply, he was gone.
I sat there for a while, stewing over what Vince had said. I went back and forth but, in the end, decided to honor his wishes and wait until tomorrow to tell the others. One day. What would one day hurt?
I must have dozed off, because when I woke again, Kale was sitting next to the bed.
“Hey,” I said, thrilled to see him.
He smiled. “How do you feel?”
I wiggled the fingers of my left hand. “Arm’s still attached, so that’s a plus.”
“I was worried.”
“That makes two of us.” I sighed. “I heard I almost took a permanent sleep with the fishies.”