Date: 2013-03-13 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult; Fantasy; Paranormal; Fiction; Dystopia
Description: Libby Sparks has the power to destroy the world. She has prophecy and destiny backing her bid to take down the Guardians. She even has an army. What she doesn’t have is a plan.No matter how hard Libby tries to follow her destiny, the pieces never seem to fall her into place. Every effort Libby makes to build her army and organize an attack is countered by complications. Broken bonds may cost Libby power she desperately needs. Betrayal threatens to break her army. What may prove to be her downfall are the secrets hidden behind unbreakable Guardian Oaths that hold the key to her success. If Libb

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Darkening Chaos

Book 3 of The Destroyer Trilogy

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DelSheree Gladden

Also by DelSheree Gladden

Escaping Fate

Twin Souls

Book One of the Twin Souls Saga

Shaxoa’s Gift

Book Two of the Twin Souls Saga

Qaletaqa

Book Three of the Twin Souls Saga

Inquest

Book One of the Destroyer Trilogy

Secret of Betrayal

Book Two of the Destroyer Trilogy

Wicked Hunger

Book One: SomeOne Wicked This Way Comes

Darkening Chaos

Book Three
of The Destroyer Trilogy

By DelSheree Gladden

Kindle Edition

Copyright 2012 DelSheree Gladden

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2012 DelSheree Gladden

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

For Ryan

For making sure the ending
didn’t fall short

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Linda Ulleseit, Angela Fristoe, and Rhonda Sermon for reading Darkening Chaos and for their support and recommendations. Thank you to the talented Kassondra Levesque for all her help with the book cover and promotion.

Thank you to my husband, Ryan, for helping me make sure this book pulled everything together and gave readers an ending they wouldn’t forget.

Thank you to Dalene Meek, for her support and friendship over the last few years. I am so grateful for her enthusiasm for my books and her willingness to tell everyone about them.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Jeopardy

Chapter 2: Deadline

Chapter 3: Captured

Chapter 4: Human

Chapter 5: Invincible

Chapter 6: Time to Choose

Chapter 7: Angry Hope

Chapter 8: Haunted

Chapter 9: Fair Chance

Chapter 10: This One Thing

Chapter 11: Specter

Chapter 12: Evaluation

Chapter 13: Inhumanity

Chapter 14: No Second Chances

Chapter 15: In My Pocket

Chapter 16: Slow Caress

Chapter 17: On the Brink

Chapter 18: Back to Lying

Chapter 19: Shatter

Chapter 20: An Empty Place

Chapter 21: Creative Uses

Chapter 22: Death House

Chapter 23: Wreckage

Chapter 24: Redemption

Chapter 25: From Truth

Chapter 26: Faith

Chapter 27: Morbid Curiosity

Chapter 28: The Right One

Chapter 29: Time Flies

Chapter 30: Gateway

Chapter 31: Strangest Thing

Chapter 32: Combining

Chapter 33: Trust

Chapter 34: Alive

Chapter 35: The Cost

Chapter 36: One More Secret

Chapter 37: Darkening Chaos

Chapter 38: Life

Sneak Peek of Wicked Hunger

About the Author

Also by DelSheree Gladden

Darkening Chaos

Book Three of the Destroyer Trilogy

Chapter 1

Jeopardy

There have been very few times in my life when I thought I had everything figured out. The problem is that even when I think I have the puzzle solved, there always seems to be a piece missing, the one piece that will make the difference between utter failure and complete victory. This is my last chance to get it right. Now more than ever, failure means death. And not just for me this time. For everyone.

The men who want to kill me are right behind these double doors. I am well aware of that fact, but I open them anyway. Their cameras have been trained on me since I reached the compound parking lot. So, the pack of rabid-looking Guardians filling the lobby is no surprise. Neither is them being completely unarmed. They don’t need any weapons to kill me. They are weapons. Faster than any animal, stronger, too, and every inch of their bodies is honed to murderous anarchy. There are dozens of them glaring at me, probably close to fifty. Thank goodness this is a relatively small compound. I can pick out which ones are Seekers, Guardians with Vision to see what’s about to happen, and a vindictive pleasure rises in me as I see their faces screw up in confusion. The only thing that does give me pause is the look on Captain Linden Blackwood’s face.

Barely restrained ecstasy glares at me from his eyes. The pure, red hot hatred roiling off of him doesn’t do a whole lot to steady me, either. Sometimes I really hate having Perception. There are plenty of times I would rather not have to feel everyone else’s emotions. I have to tap my Naturalism talent to control my muscles and keep them from quivering in the face of his raging desire to slit my throat. Blackwood is the one who gave me the ultimatum. I could either turn myself in, or save my own skin at the price of eighty-one Ciphers losing theirs. It was an easy choice. He knew it would be.

No one says anything, as if none of them really believes I, the most hated person in the world, the prophesied Destroyer, has just turned myself in to them. I take advantage of their shock, and frantically scan the crowd. Foolish hope makes me search for him. My eyes touch every face, but he isn’t here. Part of me is relieved. The rest of me is terrified of what that might mean. It might mean they haven’t turned him into an assassin aimed at my throat, yet. There may still be hope to rescue him. Or, I could be completely wrong, which wouldn’t be all that surprising, really. He may have already been twisted, and they’re simply holding him back to deliver the final blow in the most devastating way possible.

Leave it to the Guardians to want a dramatic finish.

The only thing I do know for sure about Braden is that he’s still alive, thanks to our connection as Spiritual Companions. That one thought gives me enough strength to keep from trembling and showing my utter terror at being here. He’s still alive. The man I love, well one of them, is still alive. Even in this moment of being so scared I can barely move, I am struck with how screwed up my love life is right now. Somehow, I managed to fall for two guys at the same time. Milo, for loving me when no one else would, and Braden, for bringing happiness back into my world. But even worse, one of them hates me for the necessary lies I fed him, and the other one is probably working out the best way to murder me right now. World’s best girlfriend I am not.

My heart starts pumping harder as the Guardians begin to shift, whisper.

I can’t think about my monumental list of mistakes right now, so I focus on Braden instead. I can feel his life force pulsing inside of me. I wish I knew whether he’s hurt or where he might be. I won’t know until I am faced with him, until he either kisses me, or tries to kill me. I’m really hoping it’s going to be the first one, but I know how unlikely that option is. He knew what his brothers would do to him if they ever found out he betrayed them to help me. And judging by the ferocity in every one of their expressions, I don’t doubt him. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on him, though.

Finally, the spell of having the one thing you have worked for your entire life being dropped into your lap finally wears off, and Blackwood steps forward. “You came,” he says.

Well, duh. I want very much to smack him and call him an idiot for mouthing such an obvious statement, but I don’t. My heart is racing and my mind is fighting to keep control of my building fear. It is a concentrated effort to look calm and in control. I face him squarely and say, “You knew I would.”

“Yes, I did.” He knew I could never let eighty-one people die when I had the chance to save them. Some Destroyer I am.

“Where are they?” I demand.

“Your pets?” Blackwood asks in his most disgusted tone. “Where do you think they are, Libby? In their cells, where they belong.”

He is such a creep. Anger starts seeping into my body, slowly overpowering the panic and fear. My hands ball up into fists at my side. Blackwood sees the movement and snorts derisively. The Ciphers, once talentless freaks they hunted and locked up in the spirit world where they had no hope of escaping, are still their prisoners after our rescue attempt didn’t quite work out the way we were hoping. My friend and teacher, Mr. Walters, betrayed our plans at the last minute and left them all trapped here. Mr. Walters only did it to save his daughter and her family, which I understand completely, but it still left me with the responsibility of rescuing them for a second time.

“Bring them out here, now,” I demand.

Blackwood oozes toward me, a snaky smile showing the perfect white of his teeth. “Now why would I do that?”

“We had a deal, Blackwood! I turn myself in, you let the Ciphers go.”

He stops right in front of me. I can see his cronies behind him. Knowing, sickening smiles creep onto their faces. “Libby, Libby, Libby,” Blackwood says as he shakes his head sadly, “you should really work on your listening skills, little girl. The deal was, you turn yourself in, and I don’t kill the Ciphers. I never said anything about letting them go. That’s much too dangerous.”

Rage boils around me. I can feel my face turning red. “Let them go, Blackwood, or you can kiss my surrender goodbye.”

For a moment, I can see and feel the doubt in him. It bursts through him like a party balloon stuck with a pin. Unfortunately, it clears just as quickly. “Refusing to surrender will get them killed, Libby. You will practically be killing them yourself, then. At least if you turn yourself over to me, they will stay alive. And you can die knowing your precious little pets won’t be harmed.”

“I don’t believe you,” I snap. “You’ll kill them right after you kill me.”

Blackwood tsks at me and shakes his head. “Given how Braden and Walters both betrayed their promises to you, I guess I can see why you would doubt me, Libby, but even you cannot doubt this.”

I watch as he presses the first two fingers of his right hand against the emblem on the Guardian blade strapped to his left wrist. My breath freezes in my chest. A Guardian promise is unbreakable. Nobody really understands it, but something physically binds you to a promise made on your Guardian emblem. But he has to speak the words. Hope that I haven’t come here in vain makes me lightheaded as I stare at him.

“I promise that I will not kill even one of the captured Ciphers after I have killed you, Libitina Sparks,” Blackwood says plainly. He waits for my sigh of relief, but he doesn’t get it. Milo’s continual paranoia about the Guardians has taught me better than that.

“What about the rest of these goons?” I ask. “Do you promise none of them will kill the Ciphers, either?”

Blackwood’s jaw grinds against itself. I can actually hear the grating enamel. I hope his teeth all break in half and fall out of his pretty little head. I give him a full ten seconds to assure me that his promise actually means something. Silence.

“That’s what I thought,” I say. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Blackwood.”

“You won’t let them die,” he says through his teeth.

“Why? Because Braden told you I wouldn’t?” I’m still terrified, and angry as anything, but my fight to not run away screaming lessens dramatically as Blackwood’s facial expression starts to change. I push a little more.

“Braden thought he was playing me, seducing me to win my trust.” Not at all true, but I’m not going to tell Blackwood that. I smile and shift my stance from scared and defensive to just a little bit seductive. “Didn’t you ever even consider that I might have been playing him, too?”

His dark eyes harden into the mahogany they resemble. Fear that he is about fail is wrapped so tightly around him, I’m not sure how he can even breathe under the pressure. Blackwood is ambitious and immoral. Killing me and claiming the glory and prestige that will go along with it are all that matter to him. And I’m putting all of that in jeopardy.

The slow change in his demeanor from furious to smug sets me on edge. His emotions are still boiling with rage, but there’s a steady stream of pleasure riding the wave now. “Whether you were playing him or not, you’re already in my hands, on my turf. There’s no getting away from me now.”

I don’t miss the subtle flick of his right hand, but even if I did, the host of Guardians moving into a circle around me would have given away what he was thinking just as clearly. I can’t help flinching back into a worried posture. Blackwood steps closer. I don’t move a muscle, and neither does Blackwood. We are locked in an infantile staring contest as his men cut off my escape.

Or at least they think they have.

Blackwood watches me, but his hungry expression doesn’t fall away until I rise from my defensive crouch and smile my very best smile at him.

Chapter 2

Deadline

Two Days Earlier

The second we step into the mansion, Ciphers surround me. Most of them are hugging me, thanking me for freeing them from their prison. Even through their jubilant welcome, I can see him standing at the back of the room, silent, grieving. I want to push my way through the crowd and tell everyone else to back off. That would hardly be helpful. So, I patiently endure my friends’ attention until the first wave of excitement begins to wear off. Then I turn them over to Lance.

None of them know Lance personally, since he has no Spiritualism that would let him enter the spirit world with me over the past several months leading up to the rescue, but every one of them knows who he is and that he is my friend and someone I trust very much. Despite the fact he once tried to kill me. We’ve both gotten over that, though. They also know Lance is a brilliant tactician. It was his relentless work on the Guardian compound schematics that got them out to safety in the first place. He didn’t do it alone. Braden, Milo, and Mr. Walters helped him, but he was definitely the driving force.

I leave Lance to explain the next stage of my plan for them, which is sketchy at best. He manages to explain the simple act of beginning real talent training in a way that makes it sound so much more exciting than what it really is. I sneak away from the main group to the elderly man waiting for me in the corner.

As soon as I come within reach of him, he takes my hands in his and asks, “What happened to Braden, Libby?”

The control I held all through the Ciphers’ reception threatens to buckle. “I don’t know, Daniel, but I’m going to find out.”

“He’s alive?”

I press my hand to my chest where I can feel his presence and nod. He sighs in relief and squeezes my hand a little more tightly. Daniel is Braden’s oldest friend. Braden’s grandfather introduced them to each other. The death of his parents and brother left Braden alone at an earlier age, except for his grandfather, but even that could not last for very long. His grandfather’s health problems caught up to him when Braden was only eleven years old. After that, Daniel became his surrogate grandfather. I know he is hurting as much as I am right now.

“Libby,” he asks, “what are you going to do? You know Braden doesn’t want you going after him. You know the Guardians will turn him against you. Are you really willing to risk rescuing him?”

“Would you let him stay there?”

He shakes his head. “No, but he’s not going to try to kill me if I do rescue him, either.”

No, just me. When he first told me about the way the Guardians can turn an Oath of protection into a twisted, forced command to kill, I tried to tell myself that even if he was subjected to such torture, he wouldn’t be able to hurt me. I’ve opened my eyes since then. The Guardians are willing to kill eighty-one people just to get to me. And that’s not counting the dozens, maybe hundreds of people, they’ve already killed in the hopes of stopping me from tearing down their corrupt empire. Whatever they do to Braden, it will be effective. They don’t do anything halfway.

“Daniel, I won’t abandon him.”

“Neither will I,” he says. “Just tell me what to do.”

I knew I could count on him. That makes two. Lance, surprisingly enough, has already offered to help me, and now I have Daniel. It won’t be much, but what I’m planning is going to depend more on secrecy and careful stepping than brute force or numbers.

“Okay, then. You’ve already been filled in on what happened in Albuquerque, right? The Ciphers there didn’t get out, and the Guardians are holding them as bait. They want me to turn myself in to them.”

Daniel nods. The news spread pretty quickly through my small army that some of their friends did not make it at all, and some are still being held prisoner. When there are barely more than two thousand of you in the entire world, and you’ve spent years together, you become closer than most families. The anger behind Daniel’s eye momentarily blacks out his worry for Braden. “You’re not even considering giving yourself up, right?”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

His eyes and mouth pop open in disbelief. Before he can start spouting off about what a stupid idea that is, and how Braden would never agree to it, and a dozen other things, I start talking again.

“I have a plan, and I think I’m going to need your help.”

“Does this plan involve you coming back out of there alive?” he asks warily.

“It wouldn’t be much of a plan if it didn’t,” I say with a smile.

The tension in his aged body slides away visibly. “Alright, then, let’s hear it.”

“Well, in addition to Mr. Walters telling me that I should not go after Braden or turn myself into the Guardians,” I say with a rueful smile that Daniel returns, “he also told me that there was more to Idris’s prophecy about me and that there is something worse than a Sihir that the Guardians can make out of Ciphers.”

We both shudder at the mere mention of a Sihir, a spirit loosed from its body by death that returns to the regular world in a maddened search for its body. They are the very real form of childhood nightmares, and our mutual friend, Saia, the woman who used to lead the Ciphers, was turned into one of these and let loose to try and kill me. It isn’t a memory I look back on fondly.

“Both of those definitely sound like useful bits of information,” Daniel says, “but what do they have to do with getting Braden back?”

“Nothing, but they do have something in common with rescuing Braden. I need to find and break a Seeker in order to get the information I want about the prophecy and the worse-than-Sihirs thing just like I need to get a hold of a Seeker to find out where all three groups of prisoners …”

“Wait, three groups?” Daniel interrupts.

“Oh,” I say, having forgotten that not everything we learned has filtered through the ranks, yet. “Sorry, I meant the Ciphers, Braden, and Mr. Walters’ daughter, Helen, and her family. The Guardians were holding them as collateral against Mr. Walters, making sure he had every reason to follow through on his orders to give me up to them. I seriously doubt Blackwood released them after he murdered Mr. Walters, and I won’t leave them there to suffer.”

Daniel frowns. “Adding more people to the rescue is going to make it even harder, Libby.”

My back stiffens and I glare at him. “Are the Ciphers lives worth more than theirs?”

“No,” he says defensively, “but Walters did betray you. That’s the whole reason we’re talking about rescuing the other Ciphers.”

“He betrayed us, yes, but he also died to protect them, Daniel. I won’t let his death go to waste. We’re getting them out, too.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to rescue them, but I think you need to prioritize. The other Ciphers come before them.”

I don’t like that idea at all. “And where does Braden fall?” I ask, my voice tight.

He doesn’t answer. I already know what he wants to say, squarely at the top. It’s the answer I want to give, too. I care more about rescuing Braden than anyone else. For most of the flight up here, it was practically all I could think about. I was consumed with guilt for letting this happen and fear that I would never see him again. So much was left unfinished between us. I can’t bear the thought of never having the chance to sort out how I really feel about him and what to do about it. I want him to hold me again and let me feel that spark of hope only he can give me. Tears waiting for release burn behind my eyes, but I don’t give them purchase. Not yet.

Sitting on the plane with Lance, I was slowly able to admit that as much as I want to tear every Guardian compound to the ground in order to find Braden, I can’t abandon everything else. Braden gave up everything for me, out of love, and out of belief that I am doing the right thing. Even if he sneaks into my room in the middle of the night and paints the walls with my blood, I refuse to let him down. I refuse to let down any of the people who have risked so much to help me.

I’m still too consumed with grief and loss to really understand what that means and plan anything concrete, but I do know that I won’t let anyone else suffer under Blackwood’s hands. We’re getting them all out. Daniel’s quiet, if reluctant, agreement lets me go on.

“We need information about where they’re all being held in the Guardian compound. Since all compounds are the same, I thought I might as well make use of this trip and try to grab a Seeker here in Canada rather than back in Albuquerque where they’re waiting for me to show up.”

Daniel just stares at me. “You want to kidnap a Seeker? I really don’t think I’m the right person to help you. I’m not as young or strong as someone like Hammond.”

The fact that Daniel is almost sixty years old didn’t escape me when I considered who I would ask to help me. “All I need from you is to create a distraction. I could choose anyone for that, but I’m asking you because I don’t want to waste time arguing with anyone else about whether or not this is a good idea. This will help me get Braden back, so I know you won’t try to stop me.”

Daniel nods his head reluctantly. He doesn’t voice it, but I know he would do anything I asked him to do if it meant rescuing Braden. “But Seekers have Vision. They can see the future. You can’t capture one of them, it’s impossible.”

“They caught Mr. Walters,” I remind him. Well, they didn’t actually catch Mr. Walters, he turned himself in, but only after he failed to see them coming after his wife in time. She was murdered, and to protect his daughter, the one the Guardians now hold prisoner, he gave himself up. It was his choice, yes, but it shows that Seekers aren’t infallible.

“Plus,” I say, “Saia gave me an idea about how to catch a Seeker before she died. She said none of you could see Ciphers when you were in the spirit world because Ciphers have no talents to track. I don’t think Seekers can, either. That’s why they have such a hard time finding renegade Ciphers.”

Daniel shakes his head. “But we aren’t Ciphers anymore, Libby.” He holds up his wrist so I can see the raised, scarred flesh of his jet black diktats, as if I had forgotten raising them only a few hours ago. They are perfect oblong scars, pure black tick marks that can never be altered or changed. Who he is can never be doubted. The physical manifestation of his newly unlocked talents, true name, and class encircle his left wrist, left to show that he belongs to me and not the rest of the world. They make me smile for their beauty. He has waited for over forty years in the spirit world to have those. Even he is transfixed by them for a few seconds. Slowly, he shakes his head and drops his hand.

“Daniel, you’re still a Cipher. Maybe not in the same way as before, but you are different still. If the Seekers could see Ciphers even after being unlocked, they would have found Dean and Milo the moment I unlocked their talents, and Saia would have seen Milo long before I brought him to the spirit world to meet her.”

I pause for a moment to let what I’m saying sink in. I know some of the Ciphers have been hoping to simply pick up their lives and move on like they were never abducted, but it won’t be like that. They’re free of the spirit world, but they will never be free of who they are. They are linked to me in a way they can never escape.

“I think it’s just like performing the Inquest to unlock your talents. I was the only one who could do it. And I think I’m the only one that can use my Vision to see you. The Seekers are blind to you, just like they were to me,” I say.

I had doubted this theory almost the second after I came up with it because Mr. Walters had told me that someone had seen something of my coming when they offered him the Oath to hunt me down in exchange for his freedom decades before my birth. But even Mr. Walters, the man dedicated to finding me, never actually glimpsed my coming. He felt impressions about when I was born and where I might be, but he had spent years attuning himself to me. The other Seekers, the most they could have seen was the often disastrous effect I have on the world around me, not actually me. It would have been enough to alert them to my imminent birth, but not enough to give them specific information. It seems logical to me, at least. Anyway, I think it’s worth trying.

Daniel seems to mull over the whole idea, as well. “I’m willing to try, I guess, but if it’s going to take going unnoticed by the Seekers, that counts out anyone who isn’t a Cipher, or you, right?”

That’s the part of the plan Lance did not like.

“Yeah, it’s just gonna be me and you, Daniel. Sure you’re up for it?”

“I’d be more excited if this was forty years ago,” he says with a small sigh, “but yeah, I’m up for it. Anything that will help us get Braden back.”

My sigh is much more profound, and filled with relief. I knew Daniel wouldn't fail me on this. Even if he is almost sixty years old and has only had his talents for less than twelve hours.

“When do we leave?” Daniel asks.

“As soon as you’re ready. I’ve only got thirty-nine hours left.”

Daniel shakes his head. “Nothing like a deadline to get you hopping. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

He walks away, but his words linger. I am on a deadline, but not just one. By Friday morning at ten a.m., I have to figure out a way to get everyone out of the compound or they’ll all be murdered. By my eighteenth birthday, I have to overthrow the entire structure of military law in the world, or me and possibly everyone else in the world, will all be dead.

And I have an essay due in English next week.

Chapter 3

Captured

The cool Canadian air tugs a strand of hair from behind my ear as we watch the rotating patrol of Guardians around their fortress. I push the loose hair back, irritated at the distraction. Crouched behind a spattering of low bushes, Daniel and I can still see the nearest Guardian walk across the grounds easily. As he passes us, my eyes slide behind him to the immaculate landscape before me. I have never seen such a gorgeous garden. Even in the fading light, the palette of colors is astounding. Perfectly trimmed bushes, blossoming shrubs and trees, artful walkways, everything is placed precisely to enhance the overall beauty of the area. Even Daniel, who grew up in Quebec, is staring at in with mild awe.

“This isn’t really what I expected,” he says. “I’ve never been to a Guardian compound aside from when I was taken, and I was blindfolded then. I was expecting fences and barbed wire, alarms, more security than a few patrols.”

Suddenly, the allure of the tranquil garden loses its appeal. “Nobody knows it’s really a prison, Daniel. We’re all supposed to believe these are the people protecting us. Nobody knows what they really are.”

“They will,” Daniel promises.

My agreement has to be silent as the next Guardian approaches. Daniel looks over at me expectantly, but I shake my head. Not this one. We wait in silence until he passes out of hearing range. When he does, Daniel turns to face me. His anxiety is building slowly the longer we stay here. Despite his age, for a moment I see him as a young man, eager to use his new talents, and terrified of them at the same time. It’s what he should have experienced four decades ago. Now, his emotions show in the way the wrinkles on his forehead deepen as his worry increases.

“How do you know which one is a Seeker, Libby?” he asks.

“Perception. It’s similar to performing an Inquest, just much simpler. I’m not trying to unlock anything, just recognize the energies in the mind and body. Most Guardians only have Speed and Strength, two of the easiest to recognize. The guy who just passed had traces of Concealment, too. Not strong, but he used it to make his passing less noticeable. Did you hear how quiet he was?”

“So, you’re waiting for one to come along with Vision?” he asks. “But why would a Seeker be out patrolling the grounds? Aren’t they supposed to be this elite force?”

“Yeah, but they’re also a big secret, remember? Not even the regular Guardians are supposed to know about them. The Seekers have to blend in, act like all the others, but Mr. Walters taught me how to recognize them quickly, because they are almost always tapping their Vision. It creates a kind of shadow, or afterimage when I look at them with my Perception. I can spot them pretty easily.”

Daniel nods appreciatively. The more I talk about all the things Mr. Walters has taught me over the last year, the more Daniel seems to understand why I can’t leave his family behind. Yes, he betrayed me in the end, but, hey, nobody’s perfect. Lance almost slit my throat out of reflex the night he found out I was the Destroyer. My dad almost killed me and him both trying to steal my talents in an attempt to hide who I was. Braden tried to arrest Milo and imprison him in the spirit world. And let’s not even start in on my mistakes. It would be dawn before I finished.

We wait through two more silent Guardians stalking past us. My eyes, trained on the direction they keep coming from, spots the Seeker’s creepy Vision halo from half a dozen yards away even in the failing light. It looks like he and his pet ghost are out for an evening stroll. I shudder at the strange effect.

“That’s the one,” I whisper to Daniel as I start moving into position.

His fingers flex nervously. Daniel’s part in this felony is simple. Distraction. I watch nervously as his Strength-enhanced muscles bunch. New as he is to his talents, it’s no surprise that his attempt to dart out and surprise the Seeker turns into him overbalancing. Not used to the speed at which his feet are moving, he crashes out of the bushes. He rights himself before actually falling over, and freezes in the middle of the walking path. The Seeker stares back with wide eyes. I can see the confusion in his eyes as he wonders how this person was able to sneak up on him.

A second later, he is lying on the ground gasping for the breath I just knocked out of him. The foot that kicked him in the chest lands lightly on the ground next to his limp body. I know Strength will bring him out of his shock much faster than a normal person, but I can’t help leaning down and making sure he can see my face clearly. My satisfied smile makes his eyes go wide. He knows who I am. Everyone knows who I am. It’s hard to forget the face of the person you believe will destroy everything you hold dear. As his mouth starts to form into coherent words, I pull my fist back and slam it into his temple just hard enough to make him nice and easy to transport.

He weighs twice what I do, but I sling him over my shoulder easily. Daniel follows without a word. I would have liked to have taken him to a secure building where I could tie him up in some truly uncomfortable fashion and take my time drawing out the information I need. The whole drive over to the compound I kept imagining some scene out of a Bond movie, but in reality, the most creative I can get in the short window of time we have before he’s discovered missing is strapping him to the passenger’s seat of the car we borrowed from one of the Canadian handlers with a dozen ratcheting tie-downs.

Then I slap his cheeks that still carry a hint of baby fat until he perks back up. His eyes pop open, and as soon as they do, he starts flailing. Well, the parts that aren’t fastened to the seat start flailing, which are pretty much just his lower legs. There’s a wild, terrified quality to his movements. Young enough to be stuck guarding a perimeter no one in their right mind would try to penetrate, he still must be so dependent on his Vision guiding him that he can’t seem to handle not knowing what he’s about to endure. It’s a strangely disturbing display.

“We should have left him unconscious,” Daniel mutters from behind me.

The Seeker freezes instantly and stares at me with panicked eyes.

“I can’t access his mind if he’s unconscious. A person has to be awake for me to invade them with Perception.” That seems like a serious flaw in this talent if you ask me. Although, having this newbie enemy knowing that I am tearing into his thoughts and memories like tissue paper is a nice bonus. I very much doubt it will be a pleasant experience for him. He must realize that.

“What do you want with me, Cassia,” he asks, using my true name.

“My name’s Libby,” I say calmly, “and I just want to ask you some questions, Seeker.”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps. “How … how do you know I’m a Seeker?”

“I know lots of things.” My twisted smile makes him gulp again. His eyes flutter, and I begin to worry about him fainting on me. I force myself to lean back a little, look less threatening. “But regardless of the secrets I already know, there are always a few more, aren’t they? Those are what I want from you. I want the secrets you protect more carefully than anything else in your life.”

“What? I, uh … I don’t have … know … anything,” he babbles.

I lean forward again. He presses himself against the seat but doesn’t get any further away. I meet his eyes squarely and say, “I will give you one chance to answer me honestly. If you don’t, or can’t, I will get the information another way. Do you understand me?”

He nods slowly.

“Good,” I say. “Now, where are prisoners kept inside a Guardian compound?”

I don’t know what he was expecting me to ask him, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, he must understand that if I’m asking about prisoner lodgings it has to be because I’m planning on breaking one out. His jaw clamps down with an air of finality. Poor thing still believes in what he’s a part of. He must be really new. I sigh for effect, but am secretly pleased. I’m itching to get back at the Guardians in any way possible.

“Fine, I guess it has to be the hard way, Seeker.”

My fingers glide across his cheeks, almost a caress. The soft touch brings more terror than an outright slap ever could have, and only doubles when both my hands constrict again his head, holding it in place. Physical contact isn’t a must, but in difficult situations like this is about to become, it helps quite a lot. I can see Daniel leaning in more closely. His own Perception is nearly useless without any practical experience to use it, but he’s eager to learn.

I close my eyes and will my Perception into his mind. The blocks I usually keep up to filter out the constant buzz of emotional noise I get from others falls away as I focus on my task. Perception lets me open myself up to others’ emotions so I can know their true intentions, but it also gives me the ability to seek out truth and lies straight from the source. That is the limit of what an average Perceptive can do. I’m not an average Perceptive. Thanks to Braden, I discovered something else I can do with my talent.

Once I have pushed my Perception into the Seekers’ mind, I spread it out, thin like a blanket, and drape it over his thoughts. Right away, I can feel the swirling vortex of his emotional center. His suffocating fear is satisfying, but not what I’m looking for. I leave the hurricane of terror behind and wander back to the memory centers. Short term doesn’t concern me, either. His career as a Seeker can’t have been too extensive, but it has definitely lasted more than a few hours. My focus narrows on the long term memories, and I’m immediately greeted by a half a dozen bubbles of protective warding. These are what I want. Guardian promises.

It’s time to get to work.

With Braden I was tentative, worried about hurting him. That’s really not a concern for me tonight. I thin my Perception to a dangerous point and start jabbing at the first bubble. My anger and determination punch through it quickly, but I turn it aside when I realize it’s only a simple promise to a friend not to reveal that he is secretly learning to crochet. The stupid things people waste an unbreakable promise on. I dive at the next one and pull back out just as quickly. Then another, this time pausing just a minute to soak up the rumor this guy was told about another uprising against President Howe that didn’t work out any better than missing Vice President Lazaro’s rebellion did. Sounds like Braden was right about how precarious the president’s reign is. The fourth bubble I burrow into finally has what I’m looking for.

The same room I saw in Braden’s memory, a utilitarian room with a single desk and chair in it, pops up before me. The Seeker, who is apparently named Samuel, sits down at the desk. The pang of frustration that I already had the chance to gain this information when I was in Braden’s memory and ignored it as unimportant, digs under my skin and pulses. Unlike last time, I studiously store away every bit of the protocols and procedures Guardians are expected to memorize. Only when he gets to the last page, the prophecy I already have, do I realize my mistake. This was his Guardian orientation, but Guardians don’t handle truly dangerous prisoners, Seekers do. That was the whole reason we sat crouched in the forest’s undergrowth for over an hour. I need his Seeker manual.

I yank my awareness out of that bubble and spear the next one in a single stroke. I drop into a room more luxurious than the gardens surrounding the Canadian compound. Rich colors, silky fabrics, scents and tastes seductive enough to make me stumble, suck me into the scene with grasping claws. I’m so stunned by the effect the room has on me that it takes a few moments for me to realize I’m not alone. The young not-yet-Seeker, Samuel, sits in a chair to my left with a very charismatic man sitting directly across from him. Samuel’s eyes are wide as he’s told for the first time of the secret society within the ranks of his brothers. Even more shocking for him is when the man, Henley, offers him a place in their brotherhood. He accepts eagerly, without seeing the man behind him who is holding a gleaming Guardian blade on the off chance that Samuel refuses.

Henley explains how Samuel will remain a part of the regular Guardians, a secret ambassador in their ranks, protecting them with his ability to see the future. The young man is drunk on the idea and barely bats an eye when Henley goes on to explain about the Ciphers and the other prisoners he will be expected to oversee. My heart begins to race as I listen. I want to scream at Henley to spit it out, tell me what I want to know, but all that would do is keep me from hearing what he’s saying. Both men standing up terrifies me, making me fear I will go away from this night empty handed. There has to be more!

They shake hands, Samuel grinning wildly, and my wish is finally answered. Henley gestures to the man who had very nearly ended Samuel’s life mere minutes ago, and asks him to show Samuel the prisoner level and show him where he will be stationed when it is his turn to take watch. The picture of hospitality, this other man leads Samuel out of the plush room and down the hall. I catalogue every turn, every door, every step of the journey deep into the compound’s belly. Two levels down, he introduces Samuel to the sleeping Ciphers who will soon be rescued, unbeknownst to them. Another level down brings them to the general holding cells, a place for criminals, run of the mill miscreants. What I am so desperate to find lies deep on the fourth sublevel.

Samuel is shown the two foot thick solid steel walls to keep even the highest levels of Strength from breaking through them, the constant stream of noise to disrupt any Perceptive’s focusing ability, multi-colored walls that are not only horrid to look at but also make Concealment a dozen times more difficult. A defense for every talent manifests itself here. It is a place meant to keep powerful people at bay. People like me. Going after them in a place like this will negate my talents’ power. I’ll be strictly on my own. I’ve only been completely powerless once before, and it didn’t turn out so well. That was the night my dad died.

This talent-sucking place is where the Ciphers will be kept. Possibly even Helen and her family will be here, if they aren’t on the floor above. No mention is made of traitorous Guardians being kept here. Perhaps to preserve young Samuel’s delusion in the righteousness of his work, or because there is another place for people like Braden, I am left wondering where he might be. Hope that I might find out only lasts a few more seconds until the guide leads Samuel back up the stairs and elicits his unbreakable promise never to reveal any of what he has seen or heard to anyone outside of the Seekers. Samuel agrees without reservation, and the memory ends.

I check the last bubble just to make sure there is nothing there I can use and pull back slowly. Nothing. I came to the Guardian compound tonight with three goals. Find out where the prisoners are being held. Learn the rest of the prophecy. Discover what the Guardians are making that will break this fragile world to pieces. I worried as soon as I realized just how young my captured Seeker was that the prophecy and secret creations would be beyond his years and experience. Still, I had hoped. It isn’t an easy thing to console myself with meeting only one of those goals, and not even fully since I still don’t know where Braden is.

I pull my Perception out of Samuel and hear his gasping breath of relief before I can force my eyes to open. Not even the painful way his face is contorted can get a reaction out of me. Telling myself that tonight could have been much worse doesn’t cheer me up, either, because knowing I’ve failed means knowing tonight will be repeated. Try, try, again. Not only do I have to kidnap another Seeker, I’m going to have to find someone like Henley, someone who knows the deepest secrets of their corruption, someone powerful and evil.

Someone who will take my head off if I make even the smallest mistake.

Did I mention how long my list of mistakes is?

Chapter 4

Human

Getting away from the Guardian compound without being noticed requires adding to Samuel’s minimal collection of Guardian promises. He doesn’t seem very inclined to give it until I tell him the alternative is me killing him. Having already suffered at my hands more than once, with the bruises and mental scars to prove it, he gives in and makes the promise. Daniel still feels the need to blindfold him, but we drop him back off near where we found him without any other trouble.

Trouble catches back up to us as soon as we pull up to the Cipher safe house, in the form of Lance and a cell phone.

I stare at him through the windshield. His grimace, and the way he’s holding his phone away from his ear makes it pretty clear that whoever is on the phone isn’t being very nice. Lance waves me over eagerly. I shrink against my seat. I must be the reason behind the angry call. That can only mean Milo is on the phone. Pressure builds behind my eyes, giving me an instant headache. Daniel looks over at me in question, but I wave it off and tell him to go inside and say goodbye to everyone if he wants to come with us back to Albuquerque. He jumps out of the car much faster than a man his age should be able to.

My exit is quite a bit slower. I shut the door in no hurry and take my time turning away from it. Lance glares at me and starts closing the distance himself. Why did I ever tell him to call Milo and tell him what I was doing tonight? I sigh. Because I was too scared to do it myself. Milo is so angry with me right now that I can’t bear the sound of his voice so filled with venom. I am determined to prove to him that I am not the lying, deceptive, horrible person he thinks I am. I wanted him to know what I planned, just not soon enough to try and stop me. I’m sure that’s the part he’s mad about.

Lance reaches me, and I hear him say, “You need to hear this from her, Milo.”

I hear the angry reply, even though I can’t understand the words. I wince at the heat spilling out over the phone line. Lance was wrong, he does hate me.

“Milo!” Lance yells. “Just let her explain, okay?”

Another unfriendly reply.

“Because I can’t, man. I can’t explain it like she can. Would you please just listen to her?”

I can’t hear whatever Milo says next, which means he’s stopped yelling, but when Lance finally holds the phone out to me, I flinch away from it. Lance growls at me and mashes it into my hand. Then he simply folds his arms across his chest and waits. I put the phone to my ear and take a deep breath.

“Milo?” I ask, my voice small and shaky.

“Are you okay?” he demands.

I have to move the phone away from my ear a little because of how loud he’s talking, but a small wave or relief runs through me. I expected his first words to be accusing, not anxious.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything went perfectly.”

“Good,” he says. “What the hell were you thinking? Capturing a Seeker with only Daniel to help you? Are you freaking kidding me, Libby?”

“Daniel was the easiest to convince. I didn’t have time to fight with anyone about it. All I needed was for him to distract the Seeker, not protect me.”

“You still should have taken Hammond.”

I don’t say anything to his argument. Milo moves on without my response.

“And what is this about you turning yourself in to the Guardians tomorrow? You can’t possibly be serious! There’s no way that’s going to happen!”

“Yes,” I interrupt, “it is, Milo.”

The steel in my voice stops his tantrum. “Excuse me?” he asks through his teeth.

“I’m doing it, Milo. It’s the best chance to get inside and find them. Any other time, we’ll have to sneak in. It will be twice as dangerous. They’ll let me right in if I go tomorrow.”

“Yeah, because they want to kill you! Of course they’ll let you in.”

I can almost see him throwing up his hands in frustration like he always does.

“What other choice do we have? I won’t let the Ciphers die. We have to get them out tomorrow. We won’t get a second chance. Me turning myself in is our best shot and you know it,” I say, “so stop arguing with me. You haven’t even given me a chance to tell you what I found out tonight.”

The line goes quiet. In my mind, I can see him drop the phone to his side, stare up at the ceiling, and mutter something under his breath. I wait for him to push aside his very real anger at me for this and for everything else. When I hear his defeated sigh, I know he’s back. He may hate me right now, but it just isn’t Milo to stand by and let someone get hurt. He might be wishing he could do or say a few things to me after what I’ve put him through, but he’ll hold back, for now. He won’t let anything bad happen just because he’s mad. Even more important is that Milo is smart, smarter than he lets on most of the time. This is the best plan, and he knows it. Finally, he is ready to admit that.

“You got the information then?”

“Well, some of it, the most pressing anyway. I know where the Ciphers are being kept, and maybe even Helen, but …” I choke on my next words, not wanting to bring up Braden with him right now. That part I explicitly told Lance not to mention to him. “But, it’s going to be a little more of a challenge than I thought to get them out. The holding cells are designed to disrupt talents. We’ll have to get them out strictly on our own merit once were down there.”

Milo laughs. I feel like I haven’t heard him laugh in years. I almost start crying right there in the driveway, it sounds so wonderful. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, nearly laughing myself.

“Libby, us Ciphers are pretty used to having to do things without talents. I think we’ll manage. If the cells are built to subdue talents, there’s a good chance there are weaknesses the Guardians missed that people like Ciphers can exploit. We’ll figure it out.”

Yes, we will. I know I’m still miles away from him not being angry with me, and I’m pretty sure Everest stands in his way when it comes to forgiving or trusting me again, but at least he isn’t yelling anymore. At least he is willing to work with me on this. Not wanting to lose his amiable mood, I quickly power forward and give him all the details I was able to glean from Samuel’s memory. When I finally finish, and mention the need to find another Seeker who can answer the rest of our questions, his anger returns, though not as strongly as before.

“I’m coming with you next time.” It isn’t a request by any means.

I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s ready to argue this one into the ground. He doesn’t realize that isn’t necessary. “Of course, Milo. If you had been here this time, I would have taken you with me, but I couldn’t wait. I knew it was a good opportunity and I took it.”

“I …” he says, thrown off balance by me not arguing with him. “Yeah, it was a smart move, I guess. They never would have expected you to show up in Canada.”

“I just wish I could have grabbed someone more useful.”

“It would have been too dangerous, Libby. You were lucky things went so well. Going after a more talented Seeker, things could have gotten bad. Whether they can see us coming, or not, they’re still an elite military strike force. Next time isn’t going to be so easy,” Milo says. “It’s going to take planning, and a lot more than just you and an old guy.”

Daniel did great for an old guy. I know Milo’s right, but deep down his words bother me, a lot. “Milo, we will plan the next grab better, and we’ll have a whole team with us, but have a little faith in me, okay? I can do things. I do have some pretty powerful talents. I don’t need everyone constantly trying to protect me and keep me from getting hurt. I have the right to make decisions about how my destiny is going to play out. I’m the freaking Destroyer, for crying out loud!”

“Yeah,” Milo says quietly, “but you’re still human. You aren’t perfect. You can still make mistakes.” That last word flicks off his tongue angrily. “You don’t always know what’s right. I’m not trying to take over—I know you have to make the big choices—but I’m not going to let you get yourself killed over something stupid.”

Guilty energy builds around me, streaks through my veins. I know we aren’t talking about the Seeker anymore. He means Braden. Mistake. Stupid. Not worth dying for. A dozen excuses flit to my lips for why I had to lie. I want to spit them all out at him. I want to tell him right now that I’m going to save Braden no matter what the cost is. But I can’t say any of it.

As much as I try to justify everything I did, I am the one who gave into Braden a few too many times, who found reasons to be around him, who could have said no and didn’t.  I tried. I tried so hard to hate Braden, to keep him at a distance at first, but the more I was around him, the harder it was to see why I should, and I fell. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, let alone whether I could ever love him like I do Milo, but I won’t abandon Braden. And that’s not just because I’ve fallen in love with him, I wouldn’t abandon any of my friends to that. If I was the one taken and twisted, Milo would do the same for me, wouldn’t he?

“Libby?” Milo asks.

I don’t respond right away. The pressure of my guilt mixed with my hope that I will be able to save Braden won’t let me.

“Libby, I know you’re worried about … everyone, but you can’t make decisions purely on emotion. You’ll get hurt that way,” he says. “Other people will get hurt, too, and I don’t think you want anyone else getting hurt over this. I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, either.”

Then he’s quiet. I don’t know what to say. I feel so horrible about how I’ve hurt him, but I can’t say what he wants me to say. I love Milo. He was the only one willing to stick by me after my Inquest even if his motives might not have been completely unselfish. But I can’t abandon Braden. My head and heart have been ground into pulp lately. I don’t know how to respond without hurting him even more. What I do know is that I don’t want Milo to hate me. It crushes me to see him look at me with anger in his stormy grey eyes. The line is silent for a long time before I finally speak again.

“I’m sorry, Milo. You’re right. I don’t want to hurt anyone more than I already have.”

Silence plays over the line again. When it is broken, Milo changes the subject slightly.

“Would you really have wanted me to go with you tonight?”

My whole body softens in response to his vulnerability. Lance shifting away from me reminds me that he’s still there. Lance knows more about my Braden-Milo dilemma than anyone else, but I also know he doesn’t like being stuck in the middle of it. I turn away from him, giving him permission to leave me alone for a few minutes. He can still feel my emotions through the Guardian Oath he gave to protect me, but it’s easier to deal with just that than having to hear it as well.

“Yes,” I say to Milo, “I would have liked to have had you here with me.”

“But, what about …” His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. I know he’s thinking about Braden, how I went into a frenzy when I realized he’d been taken and tried to power my way through my friends to find him, of how I admitted that I had fallen in love with him. I remember how all three of them had to tackle me and tie me to a chair-which I still don’t think was necessary-to keep me from bolting.

“Milo, I…” My throat and mind seize up on me. I can’t think or speak. I don’t know what to say. I can’t say anything. I can’t do this right now, not over the phone, not an entire country away. “Can we talk about this when I get back?”

When Milo speaks again, the beautiful caress of his voice has stiffened back into business mode, bringing a poignant sense of loss to my heart. “I went to Mr. Walters’ house this afternoon. The box he left for you was easy enough to find. His notes are all in code, but there were some other things that might be more helpful right away, like his thoughts on what we should do next and pictures of Helen and her family. His granddaughter looks like she’s about our age. I can see her diktats in the picture.”

I don’t know why, but despite knowing the year Mr. Walter’s granddaughter was born, I kept picturing her as a little child. Maybe thinking of her as completely helpless makes it easier to think of dying to save her life. I shake off that thought, telling myself it won’t come to that.

“Did you ask Casey about decoding Mr. Walters’ notes?” I ask. Casey is so patient and steady. She’s the perfect one to handle it.

“She’s already working on it. I’ll let you know if she finds anything.”

“Thank you, Milo,” I say, “thank you for taking care of everything there. And thanks for making me come here. I needed the time to think.”

I can almost feel the burning questions in his silence. He’s dying to know, to ask about Braden and what I’m planning to do. There’s little chance he thinks I’ve forgotten about him. I wonder if he realizes I plan to rescue Braden at the same time I go for the Ciphers. The millions of questions I know must be dancing around in his head don’t come tumbling out. He stows them away for later and gets back to the task at hand. Milo has worked so hard for the Ciphers. A few days ago he told me they were more important than us right now, but that we would have our chance to be together with no other distractions. I wonder now if he still hopes that day will come as much as I do.

“Now, let’s talk about this plan of yours. Lance wouldn’t explain it. He said I needed to hear it from you, which sounds to me like I’m not going to like it very much,” Milo says grumpily.

Oh, he’s going to like it. All it takes is one word to bring the smile back into his voice.

“Naturalism.”

Chapter 5

Invincible

My grin spreads wide as I stare back at Captain Blackwood. I allow myself half a second to enjoy him realizing I’ve just played him for a fool. The yelling, the demands, the false naiveté of the last few minutes, it was all a big act. I even kind of warned him when I offered him the possibility that I was fooling Braden about me. I was, and am, truly terrified of being here, but I never expected him to honor our deal. So I came prepared.

Panic flickers in Blackwood’s eyes, but I’ve already tapped my Naturalism. The whole group flinches when my balled up fists suddenly snap open. The gesture means nothing. It does distract them enough to keep them from reacting, though. The marble floor they’re standing on suddenly melts into goo. Screams bounce through the room as they are sucked down. A couple of them manage to think clearly enough to try laying themselves out flat to slow their sinking. The quickest one only gets his knee back out of the mess before I reverse everything.

Marble solidifies with a stunning crack.

A few broken bones may have contributed to the sound. That’s how I broke my ankle last year, anyway. Anguish and fury call out at me from the circle of trapped Guardians. Blackwood is by far the loudest, and most trapped. Somehow, he has ended up with both hands stuck inside the marble as well as being buried up to his hips. Being built like a linebacker tends to be a drawback when you’re standing on virtual quicksand.

I walk across the only portion of the floor whose pattern isn’t completely distorted by my trap. My heeled boots—which I wore particularly for the nice, dramatic sound they would make—snap along with me. I stop right in front of Blackwood. His heaving body is bent in unwilling supplication before me. That makes me smile even more. He can’t look me in the eye with how he’s pinned, but he glares as hard as he can at my kneecaps. I can see the veins in his neck and head pulsating to a frantic beat, flushing his skin scarlet. His whole head looks like a cherry tomato. Many of the other Guardians who aren’t white with pain look similarly upset. I don’t bother with anyone but Blackwood.

Squatting down in front of him, I press my finger under his chin and force his head up painfully until he is meeting my eyes fully, if not squarely. A seething desire to see his hands around my neck burns in his eyes. Maybe one day he’ll see his wish come true, but it won’t be today.

“You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are, Blackwood,” I tell him.

His jaw grinds together so hard I can hear the squeal of his teeth. “You haven’t won, yet. I’ll never tell you where they are.”

“I already know where the Ciphers are.”

Blackwood scoffs at me. Part of me wonders whether he even knows where they are. He’s not a Seeker, but I bet he wishes he was. Something tells me he knows much more about the secretive group than he should. Someone as driven and devoid of conscience as him wouldn’t let information like that stay hidden for long. No, he definitely knows where the Ciphers are, whether he’s supposed to or not. He is the ranking Guardian of this compound, after all. I suppose he would have to know where the prison cells are. I doubt he’s ever been down there, though.

“Fourth subfloor, right? Take a left at the bottom of the stairs?” I say, making his eyes bug in disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You Guardians aren’t as good at keeping secrets as you think you are. And neither are Seekers.”

I add that last part just to see his reaction.

The breath he sucks in and holds make his veins throb even harder. Fear works its way into his furious expression. He knows. He knows exactly who the Seekers are, and now he’s trying to figure out how I could have possibly gotten a secret out of a Seeker. And maybe he’s wondering just how much it hurt. My smile turns wicked, just to see him shrink back a little more. Sometimes fear can be a good thing.

But I’ve had enough of Blackwood.

I stand and turn my back on him, making it perfectly clear exactly how little I am worried about him getting to me now, and pull out my cell phone. Milo answers right away. Our conversation doesn’t last long. He’s too eager to get in here. I slip the phone back in my pocket and turn back toward the doors. Reaching them will take some careful stepping. If I cared about not hurting anyone, that is. I don’t. I stomp through the encased Guardians stepping on more than one pair of fingers and accidently kicking a few more as I walk by. I fling the doors open for Milo and the others.

Lance was left behind on this one, too, because of the risk of the Seekers seeing him approaching. He’s suffering through another boring school day, hating it no doubt. My phone has been buzzing nonstop for the last few minutes. I don’t have time to stop and answer his texts right now. I’ll get to him when I know everyone is safe. Milo powers up the stairs looking grave and excited at the same time. It’s an odd combination. All of that falters when he gets a look at the lobby. The others, Dean, Daniel (despite being an old guy), Hammond, the only renegade Cipher not killed during the first rescue, and Kayla, another impressive Cipher from Canada, all pile into the room. Not a one of them are any more careful than I was as they tromp forward.

“Dang, Libby, you said you could do it, but I have to admit I doubted,” Dean says. “Commanding nature like that takes some serious Naturalism. My Uncle was pretty awesome with manipulating stuff like that, but he could only warp a small patch of material even at his best. You did the entire floor. Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“My mom. She did this same thing to me, once.” I don’t care to expound any further to Dean. He doesn’t push me. Kayla and Hammond do look at me questioningly. There’s no point trying to explain my mother’s many horrible qualities, so I don’t.

Milo steps over next to me, his hand coming up to grip my shoulder excitedly. He leans in, and says, “That is pretty impressive. And for the record, I never doubted.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure, but you wouldn’t let me come alone, would you?”

“I said I didn’t doubt, not that I was stupid,” he says with a fierce smile. “Come on, let’s get this done.”

Blackwood starts yelling threats and profanities at me, but I ignore him pretty easily. Daniel is assigned to stay and keep an eye on them while the rest of us head for the holding cells below. After checking the building scanners to make sure there aren’t any other Guardians waiting to pounce on us, we turn to the elevator. The rest of the building appears to be empty, although sublevel four only gave a sketchy reading. Must have something to do with the talent interference down there. We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.

All five of us pile into the elevator. Milo’s hand reaches over to me, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s not trying to hold my hand. He’s giving me a gun. The cold metal of the Glock startles me as he presses it into my hand. I glance around and realize I’m the only one who doesn’t already have one. Maybe it should stay that way. I look back at Milo pleadingly.

“You won’t have your talents down there, Libby. I told you we’d figure something else out,” Milo says.

“I’ve never shot a gun before,” I say quietly. Somebody snickers behind me. I don’t know whether it was Dean, the Texan, or one of the mountain-bred Canadians, but I ignore all three of them. “Milo, I don’t want it. Take it back.”

He shakes his head, but he does reach for the gun. I try to shove it back in his hands, but he only turns it over to show me something. “This is your safety,” he says, pointing at a small switch. “Keep it on unless you really think you need to shoot. Then just point and squeeze the trigger. You’ll be fine.”

When he pushes it back into my hands, I hold it away from my body like it might bite me. I’m not against guns, necessarily, I just know myself. I didn’t end up with thirteen broken bones because things always work out well for me. Accidents and outright terrible choices follow me around constantly. I’m more likely to shoot myself than any Seeker trying to kill me.

The elevator chimes and stops. My hands tighten around the gun’s grip reflexively as the door slides open. The Guardians are egotistical enough to pull every member of the compound up to greet me, but Blackwood isn’t that stupid. At least, I don’t think so. There has to be somebody down here keeping an eye on the Ciphers.

Milo takes the lead looking oddly comfortable with a pistol in hand. I’ve never seen him hold, let alone shoot a gun before. Apparently this isn’t the first time. He holds it in front of him and steps forward with heavy movements that tell me he is already being affected by the interference. On him, it isn’t an unfamiliar look. I knew Milo before I unlocked his talents, and remember very well how he used to move. Plus, even with Speed and Strength, Milo is not the most graceful person in the world. He’s nothing like Braden when it comes to that.

Dean urges me forward, bringing my thoughts back to what we’re doing, and I step out of the elevator cautiously. The subtle lessening of all my talents scares me. I can feel my mind and body dulling with each step. My identity, my purpose, is stripped away from me the deeper I go into the prison. Milo keeps moving steadily, but I’m having a hard time keeping up. Hope that I’m not the only one struggling makes me glance back at Dean and the others. Dean has had his talents the longest of the three. The scowl on his face shows how hard he has to concentrate. Kayla and Hammond actually look more chipper than they did before coming down here. But this is normal for them. They both look to be somewhere in their mid-thirties. They’ve lived without talents all their lives up until yesterday. They look almost relieved to be rid of the onslaught of new sensations and information.

I’m so absorbed in the strangeness of this place that I almost don’t see Milo hold up his fist. I skid to a stop before running into the back of him. We’re at the end of the hallway. The talent-stealing affects are even worse here. I can feel them pulling at me from around the corners.

“Dean, you take Hammond and Kayla left. Libby and I will go right. Stay together. Shoot anything that resists,” Milo says.

He’s taking over again, but I really don’t care at the moment. Heck, he’s good at it. And I’m too busy trying to shake off the feeling of my life force being sucked out of me to argue with him. I’m not even sure I can pull the trigger of the gun in my hand like this. I feel so incredibly weak, and it’s only going to get worse the farther in we go. When Milo steps forward, I try not to be a baby and shield myself with his bulk.

We make it to the end of the next hallway, passing several innocuous holding cells, without incident. I feel horrible, but my body doesn’t actually seem to be having any noticeable trouble. That gives me hope. I grip the Glock more steadily and step to the other side of the hallway when we come to another fork. We step out at the same time, backs to one another, and I find nothing. My heart rate slows back down, and I turn back to ask Milo which way he wants to go. The man standing in front of him with a gun pointed at his head makes me gasp.

My first reaction is to tap my talents. The sputtering grumble of nothing snaps me back to reality.

“Drop your weapon,” the Seeker demands.

“Don’t do it,” Milo says.

“I’ll shoot him if you don’t.” The hard set of his body makes it clear just how serious he is. I’ve been trying to learn more about healing with Naturalism from Milo’s dad. It’s one of the hardest things to do with that talent. I’ve gotten fairly good at the basics of first aid, but getting shot at point blank range, not even me at my full power and all the knowledge in the world could do anything about that.

My fingers uncurl from the grip and fan out in a peaceful gesture. The Seeker’s eyes narrow. He suspects some kind of trick, but what am I going to do down here that he won’t be able to dodge or stop? Throw it at him? That’ll go over well. He’s not exempt from the interference, but he looks very well trained. I start bending down, lowering my gun to the floor carefully. My eyes never leave his, but my thoughts are frantically searching for something to do. He doesn’t have any talents, either. That’s the purpose of this place. But like Milo said, if that was all they were focusing on when they designed it, chances are they overlooked something a person could exploit when they’re without talents. What, though?

I almost jump in surprise when my knee touches the floor. My slight pause causes the Seeker to inch forward, closer to Milo. Even Milo tenses, then. The Seeker’s left foot twitches, a balance check he wouldn’t have needed to make with his talents in place. It’s a tiny movement, but it reminds me of something, two somethings, actually.

“I’m putting the gun down,” I say calmly. “Don’t do anything rash, okay?”

He watches me. He doesn’t trust me even a little bit. That’s fine. He shouldn’t. Steel clicks against the tiled floor as the tip of my gun makes contact. I slide the body of it onto the floor as well. The gun is down, but I don’t move to stand back up yet. He doesn’t trust me. Well, the feeling is mutual. For a moment, we stare at each other, judging the other one’s honesty. That’s what he’s doing, anyway. I already know he’ll shoot Milo if I give him the chance. I’m simply keeping his eyes off what my left hand is doing. I just pray Milo isn’t ticklish on his ankles.

My hand is in place when the Seeker finally breaks eye contact with me. “Stand up!” he demands. “Back away from the weapon.”

Just like endurance, reflexes aren’t completely linked to Speed and Strength.

My hand rips the knife off Milo’s ankle and flings it straight into the Seeker’s thigh. His right leg crumples immediately, throwing him to the ground. The pain makes him drop his gun. It clatters to the floor and I kick it away from him a second later. Milo has him pinned to the ground before I get my foot back on the floor. The small knife wasn’t big enough to do any real damage, but the shock and sting of its bite is enough. A small trickle of blood dribbles onto the floor as the Seeker glares at me. He’s not the only one who was surprised. Milo looks back at me with a disbelieving grin.

“They may be strong, but they aren’t invincible,” I say.

“Apparently not,” Milo says as he flips the Seeker onto his stomach. The zip ties he pulls out of his back pocket secure his prisoner with his hands and feet behind his back, then bound to each other in a reverse fetal position. Breathing isn’t going to be easy, and escaping will be difficult even for someone with dulled Strength. Milo yanks his knife out of the guy’s leg and snaps it toward his throat. Caught off guard, I barely grab his hand in time to stop him from drawing the blade back.

“Milo, what are you doing?”

He stares at me like I have just asked him the stupidest question he’s ever heard. “We can’t leave him alive. He might come after us.”

I gestured at the contorted figure on the ground. “He’s not going anywhere any time soon. Just leave him.”

“But, Libby …”

“Come on, we don’t have that much time, just leave him.”

Milo’s expression darkens as he sheaths his knife. “At least let me gag him so he doesn’t yell for help.”

I gesture for him to go ahead. I step around the Guardian and the puddle of blood forming around his thigh where I hit him. I look away from him, glad the other something I remembered right after reminding myself of the knife Milo keeps in his ankle sheath was that Guardians think they’re above wearing body armor. That knowledge would have been even better with a gun, but Milo’s knife worked, too. He keeps several knives on his person, actually. I’m just glad I was on the right side of him to grab it.

As soon as Milo finishes gagging our captive, he stands up and says, “You know you could have just shot him. It would have been easier and faster than going for the knife.”

“He wasn’t expecting the knife. He would have shot you if he thought I was going to shoot,” I say. “I didn’t trust myself enough to try shooting him, anyway. I’ve trained with knives at school, not guns. I probably would have missed, and then he would have shot both of us.” It all sounds perfectly logical, but I drop my eyes and admit the biggest reason I didn’t try the gun. “Plus, I realized my safety was still on. Taking it off would have told him what I was about to do.”

Milo just shakes his head and hands me back my gun. I flick the safety off this time, just in case. We decide to go right, the direction the Seeker came from. Either he was the only poor sap left out of the fun upstairs, or Dean and his team already got to any others. The rest of our hunt is uneventful. We reach the ridiculously thick doors of the final cell block—the ones pulsing out the talent-stealing interference—to find it already ajar. No sound immerges from the poorly lit room. Milo slips inside the narrow opening, takes three steps, and drops to his knees.

Chapter 6

Time to Choose

I rush in behind him and stare at the empty cell to my right. “They aren’t here?”

My hand sweeps across my forehead in frustration. Everything we did today, it was all pointless. They must have moved them right after Blackwood gave his ultimatum. “I can’t believe this,” I say, turning back to Milo. He’s not looking at me. His head is cradled in his hands, the Glock pressing into his temple painfully. Profound grief seeps through the interference. Only when I feel the subtle touch of his emotions do I realize his aren’t the only ones. My initial shock and dulled talents kept everyone else’s feelings from reaching my mind.

Chills run up my spine as I let myself feel the terrible pain and anger of the others in the room with me. It’s then that I realize Milo isn’t staring at the first cell like I was. He’s looking straight ahead. My mind refuses to let me process the clues. All I can do is slowly force my body to turn. At first, I can’t see anything in the dim room. The cell looks empty, until I look down.

Every part of me goes completely numb as I stare at the blackness of dozens of body bags lying on the floor. Every surface is covered with them, the floor, the beds, the benches. I don’t have to count them to know there are eighty-one. Casey’s lifelong friend Caroline is in one of those bags. Cole’s brother, Sam Vera, as well. My miniature renegade, he has been desperate to see his brother again, and now he never will. So many others I had gotten to know and consider friends over the summer have been wrapped up and stacked like forgotten Legos. They’re gone. They’re all gone.

I don’t cry.

I get very, very angry.

Nobody stops me when I bolt from the room. The multi-colored walls flash by me in a red-tinged blur. Blood pounding through my veins colors everything I see with vengeance. I don’t bother with the elevator. My returning Speed carries me up the stairs faster than a machine ever could. The sound of the last door slamming open when I reach the lobby full of trapped Guardians echoes through the silent room. They don’t make a sound, but they all turn to stare at me. Daniel blinks in surprise at my sudden appearance. Red-faced, furious, hair blown loose by the speed of my running, and a look that I’m sure promises death, shocks every one of them into wide-eyed fear. The only one brave enough to speak is Blackwood.

“Lose your way, little girl?” he says after seeing that I’m alone and not leading out the captured Ciphers.

I’m in front of him a second later, my fist smashing into his pretty jaw. Startled gasps pop around the room. Even Blackwood looks surprised when he manages to look back up at me. He spits out blood and moves his jaw experimentally. I had every reason to hate him before seeing what I just saw, but Blackwood seems to realize that something has changed. I was fine leaving him pinned here like an ant in molasses before. Now, I want him dead. I want to feel his lifeblood pour over my fingers as I slit his throat. He can see it in my eyes and he shrinks back warily.

“You killed them,” I say hoarsely. My fingernails cut into my palms as I glare at him.

Blackwood’s fear deepens, making his voice crack when he speaks. “Killed who?”

My fingers bite into his hair and yank his head back. He struggles to choke in another breath. Just a little more and I could snap it clean off. His Strength is no match for mine and he knows it.

“Killed who?” he wheezes again.

“The Ciphers,” I spit, “you killed them all, you miserable piece of-”

“What?” Blackwood gasps. “What do you mean they’re all dead?”

“Dead! Not breathing! Zipped up in body bags!” I scream at him. My hand grabs at his throat and squeezes. In the corner of my vision, I can see Daniel going pale and shaky. “You tricked me into coming here, promised me you’d let them live, and the whole time they’re already dead!”

“No! They weren’t supposed to be dead.” He shakes his head. His panic is palpable, sour against my senses. “I … I never authorized killing them. Even after I killed you, I wasn't going to kill them. I just wanted you.”

“You’re lying! You wanted them dead all along.”

Blackwood quivers with fear. “No, no, I’m not lying. I could have used them.”

A sound behind me snaps my head around. Milo stands at the edge of the room, his face a cold slate of fury. My fingers tighten around Blackwood’s neck as I see my own pain reflected back at me in Milo’s expression. I want to inflict our combined agony on him. Make him choke on it. Milo won’t stop me. His eyes narrow and I know he wants it, too. Daniel isn’t standing in my way, either. Trapped and defenseless, I don’t care. I want Blackwood dead. I start squeezing.

The slimy feel of someone’s smug pleasure slithering across my skin makes me stop, makes me think. I look down at Blackwood. It isn’t coming from him. For the first time since barreling into the room, I open myself up to the emotions surrounding me. Fear drowns me instantly and I have to push it away to feel anything else. I focus on Blackwood specifically. Underneath the terror that he is about die, I can feel his honest assertion that he didn’t know the Ciphers were dead, playing over and over again like a desperate mantra. I search and scour, thrust my Perception into him for any sign of deceit. Nothing.

My hand slips free of his already bruising neck. I feel Milo move up behind me. Daniel has moved next to me as well.

“Did he do this?” Milo demands.

The ferocity in Milo’s voice isn’t surprising. When I pause to recheck, just in case I missed some hint of a lie, I expect Milo to question me, maybe take over himself, but he waits impatiently for my verdict. “He’s telling the truth,” I say.

“Somebody here ordered their deaths,” Milo hisses.

Yes, someone did. “One of the Seekers,” I say.

“I can’t tell which ones are which.” Milo’s frustration bristles around him. He is better than anyone I’ve ever met besides me at hiding his own emotions, a brute force blockade, but he still struggles with the more subtle side of Perception.

I don’t have that same issue. Perception is my strongest talent. One sweep around the room and I’m able to identified every one of them, seventeen in all. I walk over to the nearest one and tap my Naturalism again. He yelps out in fear as his body starts sliding deeper into the marble. His wild eyes jump up to mine.

“Who ordered the Ciphers to be killed, Seeker?”

His eyes bug out as I reveal his secret profession.

“That’s right,” I say more loudly than before, “I know exactly which ones of you are Seekers.” Every one of the Seekers starts sinking. “I’ll kill every last Seeker unless someone tells me who murdered the Ciphers.”

My gaze stops on each sinking Seeker as I turn around the room. Milo’s finger twitches on the trigger of his handgun as he looks at each one. When I come full circle, my glare rests on the still sinking Seeker I started with.  “I’ll ask you one more time. Who gave the order?”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Panic grips him so tightly I think it might strangle him before I get the chance. Again, that grotesque feeling of pleasure ripples across my skin. I forget the Seeker at my feet instantly and latch onto the floating emotion. My eyes close as I block out everything but this one singular feeling. I’ve never tried to trace an emotion back to someone before, but as I step blindly across the marble floor, I know I will have to practice this more often. The feeling lessens as I turn in the direction of its source. The Seeker has realized his mistake and is trying to hide his identity. Too bad for him I already know his emotional signature. I can find him now, whatever he’s feeling. My heels click to a stop right in front of him.

I feel a rush of satisfaction when I open my eyes to his middle-aged, ghost white face. “You,” I say through my teeth, “you lead the Seekers here, don’t you? You’re the one that ordered the deaths of eighty-one of my friends.”

He tries to deny it, and I slap him hard. His head whips back and rolls forward slowly. “They’re too dangerous to let live,” he says. “The chance that you would get to them was too high. We couldn’t let that happen.”

The gun I forgot I was holding snaps up, muzzle pressed against his forehead. Daniel’s hand on my arm stops me from pulling the trigger.

“Look,” he says, pointing back toward the elevators.

The gun stays where it’s at, but I turn away from the Seeker. Dean and the two Canadian Ciphers stand at the back of the room, each one leading a member of Mr. Walters’ family. Terrified, but otherwise in good condition it would seem, Helen, her husband, and her daughter gape at the scene before them. Helen grabs for her husband and holds onto him like she never plans on letting go again. He looks just as shaken as she does. Only Helen’s daughter, Hope, looks more angry than frightened.

I can’t believe they’re not dead. Maybe they’re not the only ones. I look at Dean, and ask, “Was there anyone else? Did you find Braden?”

“No,” Dean says, “the rest of the cells were empty. Sorry, Libby.”

The image of the dead Ciphers flashes back into my mind. Fear for what these monsters have done to Braden strangles me. I turn back to the head Seeker and slide the gun down to right between his eyes. “Where’s Braden?” I demand.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face. “I haven’t a clue,” he says, “but I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never trusted Blackwood’s plan would work.” He’s still scared enough to pee himself, but unquenchable malice keeps it from bubbling up into full hysteria. He even manages to twist his bleeding mouth into a smile as he says, “Braden was released this morning with explicit instructions to call in reinforcements if he didn’t hear from me by ten-fifteen. He was also instructed to hunt you down and kill you if you should happen to escape.”

Oh, no, they’ve already gotten to him. My chest starts convulsing as I try to breathe. The air just won’t cooperate. I thought for sure I would get here in time to stop them from breaking him. He can’t be lost to me. He can’t. The gun trembles against the Seekers skin. Sweat breaks out all over his forehead, but he still laughs. My finger fumbles at the trigger. This pig deserves to die.

“Libby,” Daniel says anxiously, “it’s ten-thirty. If Braden really did call for reinforcements, they could be here any minute. We’ve got to get out of here. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“We can kill them.” If I had any strength left after what the Seeker said, he’d already be dead. I’m not sure I can even pull the trigger, I’m shaking so badly.

I see the way Milo’s hands tighten into fists. He wants me to do it. So many of our friends are dead because of them. The thought of having to tell Casey and Cole that no one is coming back with us makes me sick. I don’t know if I can bear telling them. Eighty-one families will have to be told that the people they already lost once to the Guardians are now lost forever. I want to see them pay for what they’ve done.

“Libby,” Daniel says softly. “If you kill them, the Guardians will call it murder. They’ll come after you and no one will be able to stop them from broadcasting your execution worldwide.”

Milo’s anger spikes next to me at Daniel’s words. “Every Guardian in this compound is responsible for what happened, but this man ordered it! We’re not leaving him alive!”

“We already broke into their compound and assaulted them. Aren’t they going to come after me anyway?” I tell Daniel, more inclined to side with Milo. What’s one more log on the fire at this point?

Daniel’s hand reaches over and wraps around mine. He slips the gun from my shaky grip in one smooth motion, making Milo even more furious. “Nobody knows about the Ciphers being freed, Libby. The Guardians are hiding it. They don’t want to answer questions about why they were holding them in the first place and what they have been doing to them. They won’t publicize us breaking into a compound that’s supposed to be impenetrable, either. But if you slaughter an entire compound, they won’t keep that secret. You say your destiny is a choice. Well, it’s time to choose. We can kill them and beat out all our anger on them, but what are the chances any of us will live long enough to see the rest of them come down?”

My arm falls to my side in defeat. Milo’s body clenches in frustration next to me. “Don’t leave these monsters here to come back and murder more innocent people!” Milo shouts.

“You really want me to kill them all?” I ask, surprised by his reaction, but sure Daniel is right about this.

“At least this one,” Milo growls, pointing at the Seeker in front of us. The Seeker tries to remain calm, but Milo’s livid expression makes him tremble. “One life for the eighty-one he took. I think that’s more than fair.”

Milo’s body twitches, the gun in his hand rising, then falling, begging to be used. I agree with Daniel’s argument, no matter how much I wish I didn’t, but seeing Milo so agitated convinces me even more. It makes me sick to turn away from the Seeker without making him pay for what he’s done, but if we don’t leave now we may end up having to fight our way out.

“Daniel’s right,” I say to Milo, “let’s get out of here.”

Dead-eyed anger more intense than anything I have ever seen before blasts through Milo’s expression. “I won’t leave him here to kill anyone else.”

Milo doesn’t move fast. His gun arm lifts with careful precision to meet the Seeker’s head. The shot echoes through the room, leaving gun smoke and silence in its wake. The stench of spent gunpowder burns through my sinuses. My eyes water, but not from the smell. I stare at the Seeker as his body slumps to its awkward, final position. The trickle of blood that runs down the side of his face steals the last ounce of my strength.

Milo stalks past me without a word.

I try to follow, but I am too stunned to manage it. Daniel is the one who turns me away from the dead Seeker and drags me toward the front doors as the sound of helicopters fill the air. That gets everyone jumping. Dean ushers Helen and her family through the mess of Guardians and Seekers and pushes them out the doors. Milo turns back and grabs me from Daniel when he realizes I’m not moving fast enough. I shy away, but he yanks me toward his car. He only makes it a few steps before I pull my hand out of his and turn back to the lobby. Every eye in the room is fixed on me. Panic seizes them as I tap my Naturalism one more time and set them sinking. I spin away and rush past Milo down the steps. I have no intention of killing them all. I just hope they won’t be fast enough to stop the dead Seeker’s body from disappearing and taking along with it any evidence of Milo’s actions.

Chapter 7

Angry Hope

Milo shoves me into the Bronco as helicopters start dropping onto the grass around the compound. I pull away from him reflexively. Guardians dash out in a mad rush toward their brothers, but we’re already driving away. The air rages with the noise of the machines. Milo keeps looking behind us as we pull away, but I know we’re safe for now. When I loosened up the marble again, I didn’t let it go fast enough to completely cover everyone. In my head I’ve been keeping track of the time and the speed of the Guardian reinforcements. Most of the trapped Guardians should be up to their necks by now, and the dead Seeker buried.

I let go of my Naturalism.

I can almost hear the crack of the marble hardening so quickly. The rest will live, but getting them out isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to be a very long and painful rescue. That should give me some satisfaction, but really, it’s still more than they deserve. This isn’t the last time we’ll meet. I feel no pity for the dead Seeker, either, only shock that Milo took his life. I wanted to very badly. Maybe I would have if Daniel hadn’t stopped me. What haunts me is the look in Milo’s eye when he pulled the trigger. The coldness I felt in that fraction of a second scared me. A warning from Lance, what feels like forever ago, that Milo was dangerous, echoes in my mind as we drive.

I push thoughts like that away and focus on the one positive aspect of today. At least we got Helen and her family out. Of course, that has its own set of problems. She doesn’t know what happened to her dad, yet. I’m just glad Dean pushed them into his Nissan Xterra, because I don’t think I can face them right now. I don’t think I can face anyone.

How am I ever going to tell the others that we didn’t save the Ciphers? All my brilliant planning and I failed. I wasn’t fast enough to save our friends. Dean had to be the one to think about checking the other cells after I ran out. And Braden, I was too late to keep them from hurting him. I have failed him in so many ways. It all becomes too much. My shoulders start shaking first, and then the tears start falling. Misery fills me until I am choking on it, crying and struggling for breath. Every tear is another regret, another mistake that led me here. I’m not going to save anyone. I can’t. I try, but every time, all I end up doing is making things worse.

“At least we got Helen out,” Milo says. “Think of what the Guardians would have done to them. We saved them from that, at least.”

He doesn’t say anything about the Seeker.

Neither do I.

“Yeah,” I say quietly as I try to dry my tears. I can’t offer him any more than that right now. Defeat pulls my eyes down to my lap. My hands sit there shaking, caked with blood around my knuckles. The deep red startles me. I can’t even remember where it came from. Was it from hitting Blackwood or the nameless dead Seeker? Did I even hit the Seeker? I wanted to, but I can’t seem to remember right now. Does it matter? The blood on my hands goes deeper than a few drips from a bloody nose.

The phone in my pocket buzzes again. I know it’s Lance. Has anyone else told him yet? Milo and Dean are the only one who would even think to call him, but they’re both driving. He has no clue what’s going on. Telling him in person, I’m not sure whether that will be better or worse. I’m only thinking about me, though. Lance has to be dying for information. I pull the phone out of my pocket slowly. The dozen or more text messages begging me for details are all still unopened. I don’t open them now. Instead, I call him. There’s no way I’m going to tell him over text message. He picks up on the first ring.

“I have been freakin’ waiting here all morning for someone to tell me what the hell’s going on!” he yells. “You knew I wanted updates! What have you been doing? You should have had them all out by now. Just because you’re off playing hero doesn’t mean you get to forget I’m still here.”

I let his tantrum taper off. It gives me time to try and compose myself. When the line quiets, I say, “We got Helen and her family, and that’s it. The Ciphers were already … they’re not …” My chest convulses as I try to hold in another sob. “Lance, they already killed them. The Ciphers are dead.”

Lance doesn’t say anything for a while.

“Who ordered it? Blackwood?”

“A Seeker. I don’t know what his name was, but he won’t be giving out any other orders.”

“What do you mean? Is he dead?”

I let out a long, trembling breath. “Yes.”

“You killed him?” The surprise in Lance’s voice is clear.

“No. It was …”

“Milo,” Lance interrupts. “Of course it was. There weren’t supposed to be any casualties on their side. They could pin us all down for that. What was he thinking?”

“I don’t know,” I say quietly.

Lance growls into the phone. “How many times have I told you he’s dangerous? He’s furious at you for trying to rush off after Braden on an emotional jet, but he goes and does something like this!”

I close my eyes and let Lance rant. I don’t want the memory of Milo pulling the trigger to replay in my head ever again. Finally, Lance calms back down, though I doubt his frustration toward Milo has cooled.

“Are you all okay, though?” he finally asks.

“Yes.” I guess that’s one thing that went right. Nobody I brought with me was hurt.

“No sign of Braden?” Lance asks.

“No, they already got to him. I was too late.”

I don’t miss the muscles in Milo’s arms bunching up. He knows who I’m talking about, and whether he knew it before we came or not, I just admitted that I was planning on trying to rescue Braden today. Nothing will ever change Milo’s mind about finding Braden. And not only because it would be a stupidly dangerous thing to do, either. Milo would just as soon watch Braden fall off a cliff at this point.

“Libby,” Lance says, “we’ll find him, okay?”

Choosing my words a little more carefully this time, I say, “I think it’s going to be the other way around.”

I hear him groan. “He’s already been activated? Great. Okay, from this point on, you’re not to be left alone. Do you understand me?”

“How are you going to manage that? Your parents are never going to agree to it.” Braden used to be the one to watch over me at night, although Lance was the only one who knew about that. Some of his stuff is still at my house.

“Are you forgetting that you have house guests?” Lance asks. “Our three new Canadian friends have nowhere else to stay. I think serving as your body guards is an even trade for free room and board.”

A deep scowl settles on my lips. I hadn’t even thought about where the Canadians would stay. We flew in this morning and came to the compound right after that. My mouth turns down into a scowl. I do not want sleepover buddies right now. But what else can I say, no?

“We’ll discuss it when you get back to the house,” Lance says. “I’m already here. I convinced the nurse I was still sick and she let me take off. We’ll figure everything out.”

I’m about to say goodbye, thinking he’s done talking, when he speaks again.

“Hey, Libby? This isn’t your fault. You know that, right? Nothing you could have done would have stopped this from happening. You did your best. We all did.”

“I could have come sooner, not gone to Canada. Maybe then they’d still be alive and he wouldn’t have been hurt,” I argue.

“No. They killed the Ciphers the second they closed the video feed,” Lance says, “and I bet they were working on Braden even before that. You couldn’t have stopped them. We just have to move on from here. We have to pay them back for what they’ve done and stop them from ever doing it again. We’re going to destroy them.”

I hid under my bed and cried when I finally realized who I was going to become one day. I have spent most of my life wishing I was anyone but Cassia the Destroyer. Hurting people wasn’t something I thought I would do, let alone crave. I want more than anything else at this moment to become the demon most of the world thinks I am. I want to bleed Blackwood and all the other disgusting Guardians like animals in a butcher shop. The anger racing through my veins threatens to consume me until I see the three braided strands of thread wrapped around my wrist, Braden’s gift to remind me of our connection, to remind me that he would never leave me. I finger the bracelet and realize that destroying the Guardians isn’t what I want most.

“We’ll talk about everything when we get back, okay?” I say.

His response sounds somewhat confused. I guess that wasn’t what he was expecting me to say. Milo looks over at me strangely as well. He looks like he’s trying to figure out what the other half of this conversation has been about. He’s just going to have to wonder. Lying to Milo is what got me in trouble with him in the first place, but this isn’t one of the conversations I’m going to share with him. I say goodbye to Lance, for now, and spend the rest of the drive hunkered down in my seat, silent.

Thankfully, Milo doesn’t push me. Even when we get back to my house half an hour later, he doesn’t try to stop me from jumping out of the Bronco without saying anything to him. I want to go hide in my room and stare at my wall of drawings, the ones Braden hung for me only a few days ago, but I only get halfway up the drive when I spot Helen and her family getting out of Dean’s Xterra. I know what they’re about to go through. Abandoning them to face it alone isn’t an option. I hurry forward before I can change my mind and hold out my hands to Helen. She takes them without really looking at me, holding on like she’s afraid the world will tip at any second and dump her into oblivion.

“Helen, I’m Libby Sparks. Are you and your family okay?” I ask.

Helen shakes her head slowly as if she’s not really sure. Tears spring to her eyes as she makes herself meet my gaze. “My father’s dead, isn’t he?” she whispers.

“I …” Did Dean already tell her?

“He told me when the Guardians let him see us to prove we were still alive that if you came to rescue us it was because he was dead,” she says. Tears slip down her cheeks, but she stiffens her body and tries to hold them back. “Is he really gone?”

Eight months, that’s how long she and her family have been the Guardians’ prisoners. Every day she must have sat there hoping to be rescued, but also hoping not to if it meant her father’s life. That had to be worse than anything the Guardians could have done to her. Her strength honestly floors me, but it shouldn’t, because I knew her dad. He was strange, and a little twisted, but he was also one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Helen’s eyes beg me for an answer.

“Yes,” I say, a simple answer to such an agonizing question. I brace myself for her reaction, but except for a momentary tremble, she holds her grief inside. It will all come spilling out eventually, it always does. For now, though, she simply nods.

“Thank you for coming after us,” Helen says. “I think my dad was a little worried you wouldn’t after what he had to do. After everything he’s told me about you, I knew you would come. Thank you, Libby, and I’m sorry about your friends.”

“Thanks,” I say, “so am I.”

Knowing she and her family most likely just want to lie down and maybe forget everything for a few hours, I start to let go of her hands. I stop when I really think about what she just said. She was sorry about my friends. She was down there with them, maybe even saw what happened—I pray she didn’t have to endure that—and I wonder who else she might have seen.

“Helen, I know you want to rest, but can I ask you something?”

She nods, but I can see the wary quality in it. Please, I hope she didn’t have to watch the Ciphers die. I shake that thought away quickly.

“Was anyone else brought into the cell block where you were kept besides the Ciphers? A man, tall, dark hair, his name was Braden?”

“No,” she says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see anyone else.”

My hope plummets to my toes. “It’s okay, why don’t you and your family go inside and get some rest?”

“Actually, we’d like to go to my dad’s house. One of your friends, Kyla, I think her name was, said she’d drive us. I’d really like to be around things that remind me of him right now.” The corners of Helen’s mouth are twitching. She’s putting on a brave face for me, but the grief and pain are quickly becoming unbearable for her.

“Of course, Helen, just have Kyla call if you need anything. I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I offer. She smiles gratefully and turns away to head back to the waiting SUV.

I watch them leave, wishing I could do more than send them off to an empty house. The weight of this morning begins to pull me down. Even though my house is currently filled with people, I plan on heading directly to my room and locking the door for a while. I turn for the house and see Lance stalking toward me. Every bit of anguish, every regret and agonizing pain I have felt this morning is reflected on his face. He hurries his last few steps and throws his arms around me. I bury my head in his chest and let his intimate understanding of everything I’m feeling calm me.

As soon as he knows I’m ready to talk, he pulls back and looks at me. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

Lance’s face crumbles. “I was getting so many terrible feelings from you. I was scared out of my mind that something horrible was happening. Especially at the end.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a lot of anger, I expected that, but a few minutes before you called me I didn’t know what to think. Your emotions went completely blank. I thought you were gone for a minute until something else hit. I can’t even describe it, but my entire body went cold,” Lance says. He looks at me with such compassion. “Was that when you found the Ciphers?”

“No,” I say, recognizing the exact moment he’s talking about because I felt the same way, “that was when Milo shot that Seeker in the head half a second after I told him not to.” I shiver at the memory. “The look on his face …” I pull myself against Lance again and will the memory out of my head forever.

After a minute Lance pushes me back. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I will be when I have Braden back,” I say.

“Yeah, we need to talk about that. If he’s really out looking for you …”

“There’s no if, Lance. He’s coming. I just don’t know when,” I say. My gaze turns back to my house and worry starts to gnaw at me. “I can guess where he’ll come for me, though. He’s going to show up here. Maybe we should get everyone to leave. They might get hurt if they’re here when he finally comes after me.”

Lance stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You might die if they aren’t here. Everyone is staying. They’re all here to help you destroy the Guardians. That won’t happen if you’re dead, so I’m willing to bet they won’t have a problem facing Braden.”

“But maybe I do,” I argue. “You know I don’t want to hurt Braden. If he shows up here with everyone at the house, they’ll try to kill him. I can’t let that happen.”

“Even if he’s trying to kill you?” Lance asks.

I can’t answer him. I believe in what I’m doing, but I don’t think I could ever kill Braden. Even at the expense of my own life, I don’t think I can do it. Whatever he tries to do to me, I know he doesn’t want to. I know he isn’t in control of himself. How can I kill him knowing that?

“Libby,” Lance says, making me look at him, “I know I said I’d help you find Braden, but if it’s a choice between him and you, you know I’m going to choose you, right? I won’t let him kill you.”

“You have to let me try and stop him first,” I say.

He frowns at the request, but nods. Lance isn’t the real problem, though, and not even Dean, who worshipped Braden before he was taken. Dean will definitely think twice before taking Braden’s life. Milo is the real issue. He won’t hesitate. He’s probably looking for an excuse. I want to at least make him leave the house, but he knows Braden is coming. It will take a miracle to make him step away from me.

Maybe I can think of something. I think I still have a little time. Braden is very smart, and he knows my group of friends pretty well. He’ll know that after what we just pulled, blood and tempers will be running high. I can’t see him attacking when he knows everyone will be keyed up and ready for a fight. He’ll wait until the adrenaline cools and everyone begins falling into either planning or grieving.

“Libby,” Lance asks suddenly, “why is there a very angry looking teenage girl standing on the sidewalk behind you? She looks like she’s about to murder someone.”

I turn around and blink in surprise when I realize he’s right. Hope is, in fact, standing there, without any sign of the Xterra that carted off her parents a few minutes ago. She stares at me, looking angry enough to stop a Sihir in its tracks. I can’t even speak for a moment faced with the intensity of her fury. Her blue eyes are electric, so much so that I almost expect her wispy blond hair to crackle with angry static. Thank goodness my emotional blocks are up and working well enough to counter at least some of her emotional firestorm. Being hit with all that rage would have knocked me over.

“Hope?” I ask experimentally. She stomps over to me but doesn’t say anything. I try again. “Hope, what are you doing here? I thought you were going with your parents. You should really get some rest and … uh, you’ve been through a lot lately.”

“I’m not leaving,” she snaps.

“Um, okay.” I look back at Lance for some help, but he doesn’t seem to have anything to offer. I’m not sure if anyone has claimed any of the guest bedrooms yet, but if you want to …”

“I don’t want to take a nap,” she says as she marches closer. “I want to get back at the monsters who killed my grandpa. I want to help you. I am going to help you.”

So close to me, even my blocks are having a hard time buffering her anger. “Sure, okay,” I say, “I won’t turn down help. Why don’t you come inside with me and I’ll introduce you to everyone. We’re going to start planning our next move.”

Hope simply nods and blows past me toward the house. I look over at Lance and shake my head in surprise. He doesn’t look pleased.

“Milo is bad enough to deal with sometimes, given how much he hates the Guardians. She’s going to be a million times worse.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, tell her no? She’d run off and try to take them all down on her own,” I say.

“She still may. We’re going to have to watch her, closely,” Lance says.

No kidding. Braden may have been right about what the Guardians would do to him if they caught him, but apparently he was wrong about not having people jumping at the chance to join me. It’s only one person, I guess, but I’m already wishing he had been right about that one too.

Chapter 8

Haunted

“Look, everyone, I know that after what happened this morning we’re all anxious to run back in and tear the Guardians’ heads off,” I say, “but we can’t. The Albuquerque compound is hopping with Guardians and Seekers right now, and you can bet the security at every other compound is being beefed up at the moment, too. If we attack now, we’re going to get slaughtered. The best thing to do for the time being is start training the Ciphers and gathering intel. Mr. Walters warned us that there’s more we’re going to face than we understand. We have to figure out the clues he left us before we do anything else.”

“So we’re just going to sit here and wait for the Guardians to come after us?” Hope demands.

“No,” Lance says. “We aren’t going to wait for anything. The Guardians here have been hurt, yeah, but that doesn’t really help us. Now there are three times as many Guardians running around Albuquerque. Even with the Ciphers, we’re still badly outnumbered, and we’re spread all over the world. We have to train and organize before we can do anything.”

Angry and anxious, Hope is practically bouncing in her seat. She’s dying to run out and kill something. The others in the room are slightly more reasonable. Daniel and Hammond have just as much reason as Hope to want revenge, but they have also spent decades learning to be patient. Milo is the next person to speak.

“What’s to stop the Guardians from coming after us while we wait?”

“Nothing, really,” I admit, “but I showed them today what I’m really capable of. It isn’t something they’re going to forget. They may be murderous animals, but they’re smart. They’re going to take a step back and try to figure out how to beat me.”

“Why give them the chance?” Milo demands.

“Because we need the time, and I think it’s worth the risk. Besides, sinking people into floors isn’t all I can do. They won’t be able to plan for everything.”

That brings a slight smile to Milo’s lips. He’s one of the few people who have seen me work at my top level, but not even he has seen everything. And if I can just survive until my eighteenth birthday, when my already potent talents will be fully unlocked, nobody will be able to stop me. I turn seventeen in a few weeks. I still need to make it to eighteen. One more year. I don’t know how I’m ever going to make it that long.

The thumping bass of Lance’s ringtone breaks the silence that has fallen. He snaps it up to his ear without bothering to see who’s calling. I don’t know who he thought it would be since all of the people still speaking to him—minus his little brother who is at school—are all in this room. Regardless, he answers it with his usual, “This is Lance. What do you got for me?”

No one can hear the other end of the call. Lance’s face drains of color, catching all of our attention. “What? Seriously?” Lances stutters. His jaw drops. “No, she’s with me. Just a second, sir.”

Sir? Lance doesn’t call anyone but his dad sir. I throw him a questioning look, and he answers by handing me the phone with the speaker covered. “It’s the president,” he hisses.

“The president of what?”

“Of the world.”

Everybody’s mouths pop open at that. A slimy, creeping sensation crawls over my body. The President of the world is the head Guardian, the absolute authority in every aspect of pretty much everything. History books say that people like Presidents and Prime Ministers used to be elected officials. That died away with the rise of the Guardian’s power. President Howe is the darkest, evilest, most ruthless man in the world. He never would have become president if he wasn’t. He’s also the one who ordered the Guardians to leave me alone after my Inquest. At first, I thought it was because he wanted me to suffer the public humiliation of having everyone in my life turn on me. Mr. Walters and Braden both suggested it was to make his victory over me as dramatic and fulfilling as possible. I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than that, but I never expected him to call me. Keeping a steady hand as I take the phone from Lance isn’t possible without a massive dose of Naturalism.

“Hello?”

“Libitina Sparks?” he asks. His slithering voice pierces me and makes me shiver.

“Yes.”

“This is President Howe. It has been a while since we last spoke.”

“Why are you calling me?” I ask.

Silence. He waits until I start to repeat my question then interrupts me. “I want to offer you a truce.”

“I thought we already had one of those.”

“Letting you go back to school and remain free?” he laughs. “No, that wasn’t a truce, not at all.”

“Then what was it?”

“That was … curiosity”

“What? You’re not curious anymore?” I ask, not buying his reasons at all.

He chuckles in a way that makes my stomach turn. “I’m more curios than ever, Miss Sparks, but that is beside the point. It will have to wait. What I want to discuss now is a truce between you and my men.”

“What?” I demand. “Why?”

“I, of course, already know of your escapade this morning and the loss of one of my men,” he says calmly. “I also know about your stunt with the Ciphers, and a few other memorable moments. You’ve given me plenty of reasons to end your life, but the Cipher families attacking me at every turn have done wonders to keep me from action. I was willing to let the Cipher families have their way for personal reasons.”

“You mean you did it to try and look all sweet and nice so the public will stop hating you?”

“And it worked beautifully. Public opinion of me has never been higher.”

“Too bad it didn’t work on your brothers,” I say. “How many uprisings have you had to put down in the last year? I know Pierro and Valdez weren’t as successful as they’d hoped.” I relish the garbled grunt of surprise when I mentioned the names I got from the Seeker in Canada. “And what really happened to Lazaro after he sent his men to kill me?”

Howe doesn’t answer. I can hear the creaking of his phone as his hand crushes it. I hope I never have to look at Howe’s sickening face again, but it would be nice to see him squirm right now.

“It would seem I’m not the only one who’s curious,” Howe says.

“You’ve heard about curiosity and cats, right?” It’s probably not the best idea to be a smart mouth to the guy who wants to kill me, but I just can’t stand him.

“That applies to you too, Libby.”

“Maybe. I seem to be outside of those kinds of rules.”

“Perhaps,” he says with irritation lacing each syllable. “Either way, I have decided that my curiosity about what you can do is no longer worth the price. I’d rather not lose any more of my forces before I can kill you legally.”

“The legality of my death isn’t stopping you. You’ve already sent Sihirs after me. You could send whoever you wanted to come and kill me at any second. Why would I trust you to stay away from me now?”

“The Sihir was not my doing.”

“How loose is your hold on your men?” I demand.

I can hear his fist slam down on something. The sound makes me jump, but what’s even worse is that after he calms down he starts drumming his fingers in frustration. The noise plays chopsticks on my already frayed nerves. President or not, I’m about to hang up on him.

“I’m no fool, Miss Sparks. I refuse to release information to the public about anything you’ve done over the last year because the public response is too unpredictable, but I know that may not last very long. If word gets out about what you’ve done, not everyone will call for your death. Eighty-seven Ciphers are dead after being abducted by Guardians. Compare that to one of my men dead. I know where the public’s sympathies will lie.

“It was just you and an inconsequential gathering of teenagers before, but that’s changed. You’ve gain sympathizers, and if I come after you they will raise hell for me. Civil war will erupt within the Guardians, and you and I both know that the devastation will spill out to the public. Then I’ll have civilians attacking Guardians in retribution. You may think I’m a monster, but I’d rather avoid the death tolls an uprising of that magnitude will bring. It’s one more year. Don’t come near one of my people again, and I’ll do the same.”

“I don’t believe you would do that. You want me to put my guard down so you can kill me in secret.”

He laughs. His condescending chuckle infuriates me. “Miss Sparks, when I kill you, I have no intention of doing it secretly.”

I want to reach through the phone and strangle him, but there’s an honest conviction in his voice. He wants my death to be a spectacular crowning achievement for his legacy of brutality, just like Mr. Walters said he would. Nothing else will keep him from being drug out of his office and obliterated by his brothers. He’ll wait. My stomach roils as the words form in my mouth. Actually speaking them nearly makes me vomit. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“You stay away from me. I’ll stay away from you,” he says, “until the day you turn eighteen. One year and two weeks. That’s really not so long to wait, now, is it?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” I say through my teeth.

“Well, I always have been a bit of an optimist,” Howe says. “I know I’m a little early, Miss Sparks, but happy birthday. Only one more to go.”

The line disconnects and I fling the phone back at Lance. He catches it effortlessly, more attention focused on me than his grab. “What was all that about?”

It takes me a moment to calm my desire to break people in half and spin the conversation with Howe in the most positive light I can. You would think my impending death would make that hard, but that’s old news to me. Howe’s offer showed more than how arrogant he is. “The Guardians are more scared and fragmented than I thought. President Howe just offered me a truce and I took it. We leave him and his lackeys alone until I turn eighteen, and he’ll do his best to keep his competitors from killing me.”

Not that there’s any chance this truce will last that long, but it does give me the break I need. I let everyone in the room take a deep breath and consider the idea of not being hunted for a few seconds. The emotional temperature of the room cools as they think. All except for the little bundle of simmering rage in the corner. Hope. She doesn’t seem thrilled with the deal at all. She looks even more revved up than before. I get the distinct impression she isn’t thinking about taking a break. She wants to keep planning.

“What did my grandpa tell you?” Hope asks, her harsh voice slicing through the momentary silence. The instant of relief dissipates immediately.

I look over at her slowly. She’s so angry. She has every right to be, but I seriously hope she calms down soon. I get myself into enough trouble without having a loose cannon strapped to my leg. The truce with Howe can only last so long with the plans I have for kidnapping a Seeker, but I need at least a little time to breathe and think. She’s not going to let up, though, so I answer her question.

“Your grandpa told me that the prophecy the regular Guardians have about me isn’t complete. We need to find a Seeker so I can get the rest of the prophecy. He also said the Guardians can turn Ciphers into something worse than Sihirs, which we also need a Seeker to find out more about.” As an afterthought, and really just to myself, I add, “And he also said this wasn’t the first time I’ve been betrayed. He told me to remember the last stanza.”

Lance is the only one close enough to hear me. His questioning look makes me shrug. I don’t know why I even mentioned it. The last stanza of the prophecy talked about someone trying to take everything from me and failing, and that I would learn the secret of their betrayal. It also said I would learn the value of destruction and turn it against the Guardians. I definitely plan on destroying them, but I have no idea what the rest of it means. Yes, I’ve been betrayed several times, Mr. Walters the most recent. But what have I learned from any of those experiences that will help me? I don’t know.

The conversation in the room has moved on without me, I realize, turned toward how and when to try capturing a Seeker so I can poke around in his head. They’re discussing whether we should try to catch one here or go to a compound somewhere else like I did in Canada. Milo and Hammond think we should do it here, since not only are there plenty to choose from, but with the chaos I left at the compound they may be distracted enough to slip up and make it easier on us. Lance wants to travel somewhere else because he thinks it will be safer. Plus, he really likes taking the jet. He doesn’t say that, but I know it’s true. I let them argue for a few more minutes while I try to decide what my own opinion on the matter is.

A sudden banging on the door silences everything. My eyes dart from Lance to the door and back. Please, not yet.

“Libby,” Braden calls through the door, making my heart lurch. “Libby, please don’t open the door. Please don’t. Get out of there, now. Run. Please.”

I start to move, but Lance grabs my arm. His fingers dig into my skin, but I can barely feel it. Milo jumps up from his chair with murder in his eyes. Lance doesn’t fail me. He abandons holding me back and practically tackles Milo. They struggle as I walk toward the door. I can feel Braden’s life force pulsing so close. It feels like ages since I’ve felt it this strongly. The familiar thrumming threatens to break me.

“Braden, are you alright?” I ask.

I can hear him growl at me in frustration. “I’m fine, but you’re not. Get out of there! You know why I’m here, Libby. Leave!”

Milo almost breaks free of Lance, but Dean has joined in the effort to keep him restrained.

“You’ll just come after me again,” I say to Braden.

“Go where I can’t find you,” he begs. “Make it hard for me. Don’t just sit in there and wait. Please, Libby, go before I hurt you.”

My heart breaks. He’s pleading, begging me to run from him. All I want is to see him again, make sure he’s okay.

“We can get her into the garage and make a run for it,” Milo growls at Lance.

“No,” I snap. “I’m not leaving.”

Milo uses a burst of Strength to get far enough out of his captors grip to grab my arm. He scowls at me and yanks me toward him. “The hell you’re not. Lance, let go of me! Help me get her to the car!”

Milo always forgets how strong I am. I pull my arm from his grip with little effort. “I’m not leaving, Milo.”

“He’s going to kill you!” Milo says through his teeth.

“He’s going to try, but he’s not going to do it,” I correct. Milo stares at me. My hands start shaking at my sides. I won’t run. “Milo, I if run now, he’ll just follow me, and like Mr. Walters’ wife, one day he’ll catch up to me when no one else is around. Maybe I can hold him off on my own, or maybe I can’t. If I face him right now, at least I’m not alone. At least I can try to stop him knowing you’re here to back me up if it doesn’t work.”

None of those reasons are what really matter to me, but Milo doesn’t look like he’s going to give me a chance. I turn to Lance for help. He grimaces, but holds Milo in check.

My real reason for staying, I love Braden and I can’t run away from him. I have to believe I can stop him from killing me. I’m the most powerful person in the world. My gaze slides from Milo back to Lance. Our eyes lock, and a silent agreement passes between us. I may be the most powerful person in the world, but I can’t do everything. One thing I know I can’t do is kill Braden. If I can’t stop him, Lance will do it for me. My lower lip starts to tremble as I turn to face the door.

Daniel stands to open the door, but I won’t let him. I cross the floor and grip the door knob in my hand without turning. I can feel him. I can feel his heartbeat, his love, his pain, his desire to rip me apart. If I turn the doorknob, the moment will shatter, maybe forever.  Most likely forever. I just want to stand here and feel him. He can feel me, too. He’s touching the door, frozen between wanting to kiss me and kill me.

It’s time to find out which it will be.

I pull the door open and stare into his bloodshot eyes. For a moment, all I see is love.

It passes.

His knife flicks out of his sheath and comes straight at my jugular. I sweep it away and grab for his wrist. I’m faster, but he is much for refined than I am. His hand twists out of my reach and dives back in. I barely block him in time with my forearm. The blade will slash in again—I have no delusions about that—so I spin away from him and lunge forward.

As I move, I catch sight of the whole room exploding into motion. My eyes catch them all as I scream, “Don’t touch him!”

The newest ones, Hope and Hammond pause because they have no idea what’s going on. Daniel and Dean are staring at their friend as they help Lance restrain Milo, unbelieving of what they’re seeing. Lance is straining against Milo, but I can see it in his eyes that he’s barely keeping himself from jumping in. He won’t let me die. I feel a split second of gratitude for him before Braden is on top of me again.

His attack misses when I drop unexpectedly, but he still manages to grab me with his other hand. My hands slam into his chest to keep him back. Terror fills his eyes as he raises he knife again. His arms are longer than mine. I can’t hold him far enough away to keep his knife from landing. I know I need to move—I can get away with another twist—but I wait, holding him in my gaze, searching for the part of him that doesn’t want to do this. It’s there, right on the surface, but it’s bound by his Oath.

Braden’s knife slashes down at my neck. I shove against him hard and roll to the side. The knife sinks into the carpet where my head used to be. Somehow, he rebounds faster than I can and yanks me back toward him. His pulling me leaves my hands free. I use his momentum to fling my hands around to his. My fingers clamp down on his wrist and wrench them down onto the coffee table. The leg breaks under the blow and the knife falls from his limp fingers.

One finger dangles oddly, catching me with a moment of guilt. He doesn’t need his hand to take me down. His leg sweeps across mine, and I land on the floor with a crack. He’s on me in a flash. One of my arms is pinned under my body and the other is being pushed against my own neck, choking me. I can’t get any leverage to throw him off of me. I can see Lance and Milo running toward me, but it seems as if they’re moving in slow motion. Braden and I are moving at our own, even slower speed.

“Libby, please. Kill me,” Braden begs, “before I kill you.”

My vision is starting to fade, but I shake my head.

“Kill me!” he screams.

I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks—which I’m sure are beginning to turn beet red. Braden chokes back a sob, but his own tears start falling. “Please kill me, Libby. I know you can. Please, just kill me.”

Oddly, I’m not afraid of dying. I’m more worried about the fact that Milo and Lance are about to reach us, and when they do, they’ll kill Braden before I can stop them. Braden begs me again to kill him, but I can’t. He thinks he’s betraying me, but I feel like I would be betraying him.

Betrayal.

That strikes a strange thought in me, suddenly. It’s the oddest time to be thinking about it, but Mr. Walters’ words latch onto me. Lance and Milo are barely two steps away from grabbing Braden. All I can think about is his message. Remember the last stanza. Time freezes for me. I feel like I have an eternity, even though the man I love is about to be killed. I can stop it, if I can just figure it out. Betrayal. Mr. Walters wasn’t the first, my dad was. He was the first, and the most devastating. Learn from it. Use it. What does that mean? How do I use it?

Lance has his blade out and is about to grab Braden when everything clicks.

Desperate strength whips my hand out from under my body and grabs Braden’s shirt, rolling the both of us. I slam his body into the ground and straddle his chest before Lance can get to him. My hands are pinning him down, but when I tap my Concealment and throw it at Braden it’s as if he’s been strapped to the floor with steel bands. There’s a look of relief in his eyes. He thinks I’m about to kill him.

I’m not. But he’s going to wish he were already dead in a few seconds.

My mind dives back into my memory six years, to the night my dad nearly killed me. In a fraction of a second, I scoop up all the information I hadn’t even realized was there. My training this last year has opened my eyes to what I already knew. The force of my Concealment pressing against his body holds him, but now I put it to work seeking out his talents. There are only three. I know each of them intimately. Our connection as Spiritual Companions, teacher and student, friends, and more, all make it so simple to find and wrap each of them in my Concealment, a power meant to seek and bind the truth, temporarily twisted into something much darker, something I never imagined I would ever use.

That was the easy part.

I hold my power for just a second, terrified by what I’m about to do. Tears spill down my cheeks with abandon and I do nothing to stop them from falling. Braden is waiting for the assault that will save him from hurting me. Lance is standing in front of me, staring, confused with no clue of what I’m about to do. Milo is holding for now because he can feel me using my power, but it may not last. Milo watches, wondering what I will do, hoping I will kill Braden. I blanch at the thought. It’s the only way. Braden will never stop trying to hurt me. His Oath is unbreakable, even by me. As long as he’s a Guardian, he’s bound by it to kill me.

As long as he’s a Guardian.

Slowly, I begin pulling. Braden’s scream fills the room. My face twists in wretched guilt as his terrified eyes stare up at me. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, and keep pulling.

His body arches in pain as I tear at his soul. It’s the only way. It’s the only way. I keep repeating it to myself as I rip apart who he is. My own power starts vibrating under the strain. The stress reaches my body, and my hands and arms start shaking as well. For a moment, I am terrified that I’m not strong enough, that I’ve just killed us both. But as I think of ending Braden’s life, I drag more deeply on my Strength than I ever have before and force one last bit of power into my straining Concealment.

Power snaps back at me in a terrible backlash, and I can feel my body being flung to the ground. Away from Braden. I try to pick myself up—I have to make sure he’s all right—but fire so intense it makes me scream sears into my left wrist. My body curls around my hand as I writhe in pain. It seems to take forever to ease. I can hear Milo mumbling something to me. I don’t understand what he’s saying. I have to get to Braden and make sure he survived. I push away from Milo and stutter when I see both Lance and Braden lying on the floor. Lance! I completely forgot about what that would do to him. I cringe, but he sits up and shakes his head, looking no worse than I probably do. He’ll be okay.

I drop next to Braden and grab his shoulders, shaking him and pulling him up to face me. His eyes roll open slowly and struggle to focus on mine. When they do finally see me, he snaps awake and grabs me with such tenacity that I am terrified it didn’t work. For a moment, he sits completely motionless, trying to figure out what just happened. I think everyone in the room is doing the exact same thing.

“I … don’t want to kill you anymore,” he says slowly. His smile grows. “I don’t want to kill you anymore!”

He sandwiches my face between his hands and kisses me hard and fast before pulling back again. Milo erupts, grabbing Braden and flinging him back. “Get away from her!”

Braden stumbles up to standing. Milo tries to grab Braden again, but this time it is Dean who steps in and blocks him. Braden stares at me in joyous disbelief. “Libby, how? Nothing could break that. What did you do?” he asks, the last of his words trailing off suddenly as he catches a glimpse of his right wrist.

My breath catches, and I can’t breathe or move or think. His hands come up in front of him as he stares at his bare wrist. He rubs his finger over the place where his diktats used to be in utter disbelief. My own hands press against my mouth in fear of his reaction. The motion draws his eyes to my hands, to the small second row of diktats ringing my left wrist. Three newly raised bars of scarred flesh slowly turning black, his talents, the ones I stole, stare back at him. His fear, loss, and confusion swirl around us like a hurricane. When he finally looks back at me, I flinch away from his haunted eyes and voice.

“What did you do?”

Chapter 9

Fair Chance

“Braden, wait,” I beg as he pulls away from me. He stares at me like I’m going to chop him into tiny pieces and serve him to my dinner guests. I don’t know what to do. He is practically all I’ve thought about for the last two days. Getting him back was all I cared about. I did it. I saved him and stopped him from killing me, but what did it cost? My throat is killing me and will probably bruise from him trying to crush it, but I know he didn’t want to do it. I’ve already forgiven him. Having him back is all that matters to me. Apparently that’s not enough for him.

“You stole my talents?” Braden asks in disbelief, and not disbelief that I was strong enough to do it, just that I actually did.

“I had to. It was the only way to stop you.” Please understand that, please.

His eyes can’t seem to leave his smooth wrist. “They’re gone. I can’t believe they’re gone.”

“Braden, I’m sorry. Please, I had to do it,” I beg. I take a step closer and he flinches away from me. My hand jumps to cover my trembling lips. Tears that want so desperately to fall sting my eyes. I hold them back and plead with him to forgive me.

Braden finally looks up. “I can’t … this isn’t right. I have to go.”

He starts forward, but I grab his arm. I can’t let him leave. He shivers and tries to pull away from me. I’m not holding him that tight, but he can’t get away. His talentless body can’t stand up against me. The grief in his features steals my hope. Braden tries to pull his arm out of my grip again. I can’t let go of him. Only when his expression suddenly darkens into pain do I realize that I’m squeezing his arm to the point of hurting him. I gasp and let go, wanting to kick myself as I watch the blood race back to his fingers. Bruises are already starting to form.

“Braden, I …”

“Please, Libby, just let me go. Just let me go,” he begs.

“Braden, don’t leave,” I cry. He can’t fight anyone off, now. He’ll be killed for sure. “It’s not safe. What if the Guardians come to check up on you? You can’t go home.”

“I can’t stay here,” he says, and stumbles toward the front door.

I react, running for the door, but Milo grabs me before I can get very far. “You’re not going after him,” he seethes. “He’s done enough damage already. Let him go.”

“But …”

Lance’s touch is much softer. He places his hand on my shoulder. “Libby, let him go.”

Yanking away from them both doesn’t get me very far. Performing the Serqet on Braden took too much out of me. All I can do is argue. “Lance, he’ll get hurt.”

“Libby,” he says, “his talents may be gone, but he still has his training. He’s not going to let them corner him. Just give him some time to calm down, okay? He’ll come back. He’ll realize you did what you had to.”

My face twists into a wry mask of contempt. That’s what he said about Milo, too. He’ll understand. He’ll forgive you, Libby. What if he’s wrong? I didn’t realize that while I was trying to stop Braden from leaving, everyone had gathered around us. Daniel speaking right behind me startles me and makes me spin around and fall back into Lance. My entire body wobbles. I feel like I’m about to collapse, all of the sudden. Lance supports me and Daniel repeats what he just said.

“What on earth made you think to try that on him?” he asks. His eyes aren’t on me, though, but looking over at the door his surrogate grandson just disappeared through. I can tell he’s itching to go after him.

“It was what Mr. Walters said about him not being the first to betray me, and that I had to learn from it. I realized my dad was the first. All at once, I knew how he did it. It was the only thing I could do, Daniel,” I say, begging him to understand at least. Tears of confused regret and hurt pool in my eyes. I did the right thing, didn’t I?

“Not even I can break a Guardian Oath. I knew the only way to make him stop without killing him was to make him stop being a Guardian. It was the only way.”

Daniel steps forward and pulls me against his small frame. “I know, Libby. It’s okay.”

“There’s nothing we can do about him now,” Milo says gruffly. “There’s nothing we should do after what he just did. If he wants to leave and get killed by the Guardians, so be it. Why don’t we get back to figuring out what we’re going to do next?”

My face crumbles at his callousness. A look of disgust flashes in his eyes before turning and walking away from me. He’s furious at Braden for trying to kill me and for kissing me, but judging by the look he just gave me, he’s even more angry at me for letting it all happen. There is so much I regret, so much I will never be able to atone for, but sparing Braden’s life is one choice I will defend to the end.

Lance walks over to me, and quietly says, “He’ll be alright, Libby. He knows how to keep himself safe. Let’s just focus on something else for a while. Maybe Daniel can talk to him later.”

If he’ll talk to anyone at this point, it will be Daniel. Maybe he can convince him to forgive me. Everyone else is staring at me, waiting. Finally, I force myself to nod and follow Lance over to the couch. Everyone is slow to come down off the shock of what just happened, but Lance and Milo push everyone back to talking. Their reasons are vastly different, I’m sure, but it helps the room move on. The argument that had been raging before Braden’s sudden arrival reappears in no time. The clamoring voices give me an instant headache.

“Stop,” I bark at them. They all stare at me. “We’re taking a Seeker from right here in Albuquerque. No more arguing about it.”

“Libby, it’ll be safer to try somewhere else,” Lance argues.

“No, we have a better opportunity here. They’re going to be digging out Blackwood and his buddies for a while and trying to sort out what happened. They’re going to be a mess, whether they up their security or not,” I say.

Even more of a reason for me is that I refuse to leave Albuquerque while Braden is so vulnerable. He has always tried to protect me. Well, now it’s my turn, whether he wants it or not. Lance doesn’t look convinced, so I scramble to think up another reason, one I can say in front of everyone without causing another fight.

“Plus,” I say, “I’m already going to be in deep with the Concealment officers for not showing up for school the last two days. I’m surprised they haven’t already tried to drag me back.”

Without Braden to pull me out of class whenever I need to skip out, I’m going to have a much harder time sneaking away. I don’t notice the quiet for several long seconds. When I do, I realize the others are glancing over at Lance anxiously. I turn to look at him as well.

“What?”

For some reason, Lance looks over at Milo and frowns. Milo shakes his head and gestures for Lance to go ahead and tell me whatever it is. “You’ve been expelled,” Lance says. “It was all over school today and yesterday. Nobody knows why, but Milo thinks Blackwood called the principal after you unlocked the Ciphers and ordered her to kick you out.”

I hate school. I hate the kids and teachers who refuse to look at me and talk about me behind my back. I hate having no lunch hour and extra classes. Why do I feel so shocked, then? I should be happy, thrilled. Who cares? But no matter how much I hate school, it is the one normal thing about my life. I show up every morning, turn in homework, and eat gross food. Blackwood has taken that away from me, too.

“I guess … well …” I just splutter nonsense for a second. Hope is staring at me like I’m a freak, which I am, but still. I can bet school is the last thing on her frenzied mind.

“Maybe you can appeal it, if you want to,” Lance offers. “If the Guardians aren’t going to publicize everything we’ve done lately, Principal Andrews won’t have anything to use against you.”

I can’t believe I have to fight to get back into high school. “Yeah, um, sure, Lance. We can talk about it later, I guess.”

“What about the Seeker?” Milo asks. “Whether or not you go back to school can wait.”

His question stings. I am not what he wants to think about right now. I have to take a deep breath and refocus. Milo is right. I need to stay focused on the Seekers. I can’t let too many other things crowd into my head right now.

“We’re capturing a Seeker here. End of discussion.”

Lance isn’t thrilled, but he is willing to stick by me. “What first, then?”

“Surveillance,” I say wearily. “We’re going to need surveillance on the compound to find out what they’ll change, numbers, patrol schedules, everything.”

Dean and Milo already look like they’re working out schedules in their heads. Lance is still watching me closely.

“We’re not going to be able to grab some newbie on ground patrol again,” I say. It strains my already fragile mind to focus on this so hard, but I force myself to make the effort. “We need a senior Seeker, a Prime Seeker if possible, someone who will know about the prophecy and whatever they can do to Ciphers. I don’t really want to try breaking into the compound, so I want people watching where the Seekers go when they leave. Lance, you’ll have to have one of the Ciphers, or me, with you so you know which ones are Seekers. We just have to find a hole in one of their security measures, and we can grab them.”

“Those of us in school will have to take shifts before and after classes,” Milo says, reminding me that I am not a part of that group. “Hammond, Kayla, and Daniel will have to take the majority of the day shifts. I’ll get a schedule worked out.”

I just nod at him and rub my head. It’s probably not even noon yet, but I seriously want to crawl into my bed and stay there until tomorrow morning. After I find some aspirin. After that, they all start talking about how to best start training the other Ciphers, the ones that aren’t lying in body bags in the Guardians’ basement. My stomach rolls at the memory. I have to close my eyes and make myself think of something else. I throw out ideas and offer suggestions about getting everyone trained as quickly as possible.

I try to suggest we start with the Canadian Ciphers, and then send them back to the others to start working, but Lance seems determined to keep as big of a guard around me as possible. Even though Braden isn’t a threat anymore, there are still plenty of other people who want to kill me. I shoot down the idea of me travelling around to the different safe houses on the weekends. Not because I’m against seeing the world, but partly because of Braden, and partly because I know from experience that pushing myself to the breaking point doesn’t accomplish anything. I want to visit each safe house, but it has to be a reasonable schedule.

In the end, we settle on an idea that surprisingly enough comes from Hope. It’s a scaled back schedule of me visiting the other Ciphers. Our Canadian friends will stay, and we’ll send word to the other safe houses to send five of their most talented members here to Albuquerque. They can all stay at my friend, Inquisitor Moore’s, weekend house and start training with me and the rest of my team. As soon as they’re ready, we’ll send them back to help train others and bring in a new batch.

Lance isn’t thrilled that I’ve gotten rid of my house guests, all accept Hope—who absolutely refuses to leave my side until every Guardian on the planet is dead. Yikes. Milo wants to bring more people in despite the stir that would cause. Dean, who has only had his own talents for barely more than half a year, looks wary of trying to train other people, but he’s an incredibly fast learner. He has passed Milo in quite a few areas already. He’ll be fine.

Eventually, the objections die down. The loss of adrenaline and general mayhem starts to wear on everyone. Daniel offers to start making lunch, and I notice for the first time Hammond’s anxiety about Kayla. He pesters Dean until he agrees to drive him over to Mr. Walters’ house. No wonder he jumped at the chance to come with us. Kayla offered to come first. It makes me happy to know at least one couple hasn’t been torn apart by my chaotic destiny.

With everyone sufficiently distracted, I stand up and make for my bedroom. I guess not everyone was distracted, because Lance slips in behind me and closes the door. For a moment, I hesitate, and then I let myself fall against him. His arms slip around me and block out everything else for a few precious seconds. At least I still have one person who loves me. It’s only the love of a friend, now, but it’s whole and beautiful. He holds me like a big brother trying to comfort a hurt and lonely little sister, just the way he used to when we were small. I loved being his girlfriend when we were in that stage, but I think this is where we’ve always been meant to stay, friends that would give anything for each other and never ask for a single thing in return.

“Libby, I’m worried about you,” Lance says, pulling back a little.

“What’s so new about that?” I joke.

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m serious. You’ve got too much on your plate with Milo and Braden. I know you. I know how much you let things like this get to you. What happened with both of them isn’t your fault. You did what you had to do. You have to put it aside for now and focus on the bigger picture.”

I laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Lance, I turn seventeen in two weeks. That means I may only have a year left to live, and you’re worried about my relationship problems. It seems so stupid, doesn’t it?” My humor doesn’t last. He can feel the pain welling up inside of me and tries to stall it.

“You never did do things the easy way, Libby. Remember the time you got your kite stuck in a tree at the park? I told you to go get your dad and ask him to get a ladder or something. You decided climbing up to get it would be faster. It wasn’t, and you fell out and broke your arm.” He frowns at me, and says, “I’m not forgetting that you have bigger problems than whether or not you just lost Braden, and whether saving Braden’s life just cost you Milo. I just know that you are going to be distracted by it. And I’m well aware of the clock counting down on your life. I intend on seeing you live past your eighteenth birthday, but I’m going to need a little help.”

“What do you want me to do, Lance? Forget them both, demand they stop hating me so I can concentrate?” I would do the second one if I thought it would actually work. The first one, I already know it won’t.

“No,” Lance says, “but I am asking you to give yourself a break. You lied to Milo because he would have gotten himself killed if you hadn’t. You stripped Braden of, basically, his whole identity because the only other option was killing him. You did what you had to do. Accept it. Deal with it. And stop focusing on it. Maybe Milo will put aside his anger and come rushing in like the love-sick hero he used to be. Maybe he won’t.

“Maybe Braden will realize he’s being an idiot about this, maybe he won’t. Either way, the balls are in their courts. You have to let them make the choice. Give them some time. Maybe if you do, you’ll figure out what you want, too. But even if you don’t, you have more important things to think about right now, like staying alive. If you get yourself killed because you’re crying about one of them, it’s really not going to matter what they think of you. You’ll be dead. So, put it in your back pocket and get back to work, okay?”

I have to say I’m a little stunned by all of that. He’s changed so much over the last year. The sometimes arrogant, petty attitude that kept him and Milo at each other’s throats for the longest time has completely disappeared. So has his immaturity and self-absorbed qualities that always made it impossible for him to pick up on my needs and emotions. Football and fast cars used to be only slightly less important to him than me.

Where did this mature, wise, thoughtful young man come from? Maybe losing your friends and mentors, going up against the brotherhood you once idolized, watching friends die and knowing it could happen again at any time just doesn’t leave any room for anything else. He has sacrificed so much for me, but I know he did it willingly and I love him for it.

“Thanks, Lance,” is all I need to say.

He smiles and tweaks my nose with a playful grin. I smile at him. He hasn’t lost all his boyishness. Lance motions to something behind me, and says, “I gathered up the stuff he left here this morning. Figured you wouldn’t want it lying around where people might start asking questions.”

“Thanks,” I say as I stare at Braden’s overnight bag, laptop, and toothbrush. As I stare at the bag, I can’t help wondering if the blue striped shirt I love so much is in there. Trying not to think about it too hard, I turn back to Lance.

He can see the question in my eyes, but waits for me to ask it.

“Lance, you wanted me to choose Braden before because of our link, because of the extra power it would give me,” I say, my voice rough with emotion, “but all of that’s gone now. He has no talents. I couldn’t feel the link anymore. Do you still think he’s the better one for me? And what about Milo? I love him, but what he did today really scared me. All I could think about was how often you’ve told me he’s dangerous.”

Lance pulls me back into a hug with a sigh. “I don’t know, Libby. You know how I feel about Milo, but if you really love and trust him, I’ll stand behind your choice. As for Braden, you know I like him, but I also respect him and trust him. You’re the only one who can answer your questions about how you really feel about him, but at least now you have the chance to find out if you truly love him without anything else interfering. Maybe now you’ll actually have a fair chance at figuring it out. If he’ll ever speak to you again, that is.”

Chapter 10

This One Thing

It has been three days since the catastrophic rescue attempt. In those three days, we have identified over two dozen Seekers creeping around the compound. Finding a weak spot in their routines will take a while longer, but everyone is working hard.

In those same three days, Milo has spoken a combined total of less than five words to me. When he handed out the schedule for watching the compound, there was a noticeable lack of me and him ever partnering up. I have tried to take Lance’s advice and not let it get to me, but I’m quickly finding that impossible. Making my focusing abilities even worse is the fact that Daniel has not been able to talk to Braden. He won’t answer calls or open the door. He sits alone at his house completely unprotected. Not knowing whether or not he is safe is killing me.

I was determined to give Milo whatever space and time he needed from me, but after three days of silence and worry I can’t take it anymore. If he truly hates me and will never forgive me, I need to know. And I need to do something about Braden.

Walking up to Milo’s house makes my hands shake. I do something when I reach the door that I have not done in a very long time. I ring the doorbell. His car is in the driveway, so I know he’s home, but it seems to take ten years for him to reach the door. When he pulls it open, his dark eyes take me in with surprise.

“Why did you ring the bell?” he asks.

“I wasn’t sure if I was still welcome here,” I say honestly.

A mixture of frustration and sadness plays on his features.

“If you want me to go,” I say, “I will. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

I take a deep breath. “About us.”

It takes a very long time for Milo to answer. When he does, he says, “Fine. Come in.”

He leaves the door open and walks toward the living room rather than waiting for me. It’s not the best sign, but at least he let me in. I cross the threshold and close the door slowly. As I walk toward the living room, I try to prepare myself for his rejection. I won’t blame him or hate him. I know what I’ve done. Whatever he decides, I just need to hear it so I can move on, either with him or without him, regardless of how much that would hurt. When I enter the room, Milo is sitting on the arm chair instead of one of the couches. My breathing starts to speed up. He doesn’t want me too close to him.

I sit down on the edge of the couch. When Milo speaks, the bite in his voice makes me flinch.

“What do you want to talk about?”

I press my hands together to calm their shaking. “Milo, I know you’re angry with me right now. You have every right to be. I made huge mistakes. I can admit that.”

Milo grunts at my admission, but doesn’t say anything.

“I lied to you about Braden from the very beginning. I won’t make any excuses about why. I should have trusted you. When I did tell you about him, you disagreed with trusting him. I accepted his help regardless of what you said. I know I should have at least given you another chance to discuss it with me. I didn’t have to go behind your back. And …” I have to stop and blink back tears. “And I knew how I felt about Braden from the beginning, but I still allowed myself to be around him. Sometimes it was unavoidable, but there were plenty of other times I could have walked away and I didn’t.”

“How many other times?” Milo demands.

I look up at him, surprised by his question. Does he really want me to tell him every time I was with Braden when I didn’t expressly have to be? I don’t think I could even catalog something like that. He refuses to look away, and neither can I. He needs an answer. I owe him an answer, so I try.

“Most of the time, it was just training I could have done with someone else, times when everyone else had gone home but I lingered to be around him longer. Sometimes Braden would show up places, or be around school, and I could have left, but didn’t.”

“What about the other times?” he asks, no softer than before.

My chin starts quivering. “The day Saia died and you went to work with Casey, Braden showed up right after you left. We just talked outside for a while, and then something he said gave me the idea of trying to get through his Guardian promise.”

Milo’s body tenses, his muscles bulging under the strain. “You told me you got the prophecy from him the next day after school.”

“I didn’t want you to think I said it was okay for you to go with Casey because I knew Braden was coming. I promise I had no idea he had followed us to the motel.”

Milo’s eyes narrow. My heart breaks as I realize he doesn’t believe me. He glares at me for several more seconds before managing to slip another few words past his clenched jaw. “When else?”

My eyes drop. I can’t bear to look at him when I tell him. “When you went to Ohio …” My breath catches in my chest, and I have to pause to compose myself. “I went to see my dad, and Braden was waiting at my car when I came back. He offered to stay with me, for protection … and because he wanted to. I wanted to tell him no, but I couldn’t. We went out to Bosque Del Apache and spent the day hiking. When he took me home …”

All control abandons me. Tears run down my face with abandon.

“When he took you home, what?” Milo almost yells.

“He didn’t leave,” I say, but I rush to continue. “But he stayed on the couch, I promise! He was afraid to leave me alone in the new house. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened?” Milo demands. “Braden spent the night with you, but nothing happened?” His voice rises with each word, fierce and angry by the end of the sentence. I shrink into the couch, wishing I could disappear entirely.

“Milo, I didn’t sleep with him,” I say quietly. “I can prove it if I have to, but I’m begging you to trust me on at least this one thing. I have wanted you to be my first since we met. That hasn’t changed.”

I risk looking up at him. He is still pissed beyond belief, but there is a hint of faltering. For a few moments, I am sure he’ll either demand I prove I didn’t have sex with Braden, or tell me to go to Hell. I brace myself. My entire body is trembling quietly as I wait for him to banish me from his heart. When his shoulders drop and his head falls into his hands I don’t know what to think. He looks up, and I flinch, sure he’s ready to be rid of me.

“Do you still love me?” he asks with tortured eyes.

My own eyes widen. “Of course I do, Milo! I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“But you love Braden, too?”

I won’t lie, no matter how much it kills me, though my voice is small when I answer. “Yes.”

“Then where does that leave us?” he asks.

“It leaves me here, begging for your forgiveness, willing to do whatever it takes to earn it,” I say firmly.

He looks over at me. His eyes pierce me, body and soul. Dropping all blocks, I let him taste my shame and guilt, my honest desire to hold onto our love. He feels my sudden vulnerability and takes full advantage. I flinch when his power and the force of his anger and hurt invade me, but do nothing to block it. I never meant to hurt him. I love Braden, but I can’t give up what I had with Milo for something I’m not sure is real, and at this point will most likely never get the chance to test. I gave myself to Milo before I ever met Braden.

Finally, Milo’s power withdraws. I open my eyes and force myself to meet his eyes. Less cold than before, there is still very little warmth in them. “I don’t want to lose you either,” Milo says, “but you can’t see Braden again, ever. I refuse to feel like I have to look over my shoulder constantly to make sure the two of you aren’t sneaking off somewhere. If you really want to be with me, then be with me.”

This one condition threatens to break my heart. Every sweet moment with Braden, the peace and happiness his touch brings me, the gentle draw of his lips against mine, they all beg me not to agree. My memories of him burst into full and vivid light. Slowly, painfully, I push them back down into the recesses of my mind where they belong. My head nods before I can form the words.

“Okay,” I choke out. “I’ll stay away from Braden.”

Milo looks mildly surprised I made the concession, but he nods as well. “Fine. Okay.”

There is no sudden return of affection or warmth. I didn’t expect Milo to sweep me into his arms like a fairy tale prince reclaiming his lost love. I’m not foolish enough for that. It’s a start, and I am so grateful for it.

But I had more than one reason for coming here today. I’m not sure I can utter the other one. It may break everything I’ve just accomplished. I don’t think I can live with myself if my cowardice costs Braden his life. I have just agreed to stay away from him, but that doesn’t erase my love.

“Milo,” I say shakily, “I need to talk to you about one other thing.”

My tone seems to alert him. His jaw tightens again. “What?”

“I know you hate him. I know you wish I would have killed him. But I didn’t.”

I don’t have to say his name. Milo knows exactly who I’m talking about. His fists ball up and his anger slithers toward me.

“He needs to be protected.”

“I don’t care whether he lives or dies,” Milo says.

“But I do.”

Milo’s mouth opens, whether to argue or accuse, I don’t know. I cut him off before he can say anything with a raised hand. I need to say this, get it out, or I will hate myself forever. I can’t let Braden die.

“I promised I won’t go near him, but I won’t sit back and let the Guardians kill him. Regardless of what happened between me and him, Braden helped us, Milo. Without his help, we never would have gotten the Ciphers out. I can understand if you want to forget you ever met him, but I can’t do that. He risked everything to free the Ciphers, and he lost. He deserves our protection for that, no matter what personal feelings demand.”

“I am not putting anyone else at risk for that man!” Milo bellows.

“He would have done it for anyone of us, even you,” I say. “I’m asking you because I know it can’t be me. My promise aside, I can’t be around him without wanting more. I know my weaknesses, and Braden is one of them. I can’t be the one to protect him, so I’m asking you.”

Milo shakes his head slowly.

“Milo, please. I love you. I want you. I will do whatever you ask of me to prove that. I know this is hard. I hate that I have to ask, but I am. I’ll give myself to you heart and soul, but in order to do that I need this one thing. I need to know that Braden is safe, and I can walk away from him. I just need to be sure I won’t cause the death of another person I love. I have so much blood on my hands already. Please just give me this one thing and I will never ask for anything else from you but to be by your side.”

I am begging, pleading with everything I have. I can give up all the joy being around Braden gives me. I can give up the bliss kissing him inspires. Even the peace, the caress of his spirit, the absolute devotion. I can give it all up for Milo if I can only know Braden will be safe and have the chance to find happiness again.

The agony of this one request pours out of me with every second I wait for Milo’s response. His lips part and I hold my breath.

“Braden’s life isn’t my concern,” Milo says stiffly. “I won’t waste a single resource protecting him, and neither will you.”

Chapter 11

Specter

Guilt seems to be my constant companion lately. I promised Milo I would stay away from Braden. I shift in the seat of a borrowed car. I couldn’t bring my Bronco because he would recognize it. I promised Milo, but I tried to explain how much I needed his help. I knew asking him to help me protect Braden was a very long shot. In a perfect world, I would never have to ask something so difficult of him. This isn’t a perfect world. Far from it actually.

I did my best to pass this duty off, but with training, watching the compound, and tracking Seekers all over town, I couldn’t get Braden covered every second with only Lance, Daniel, and Dean willing to pitch in. I stare down the street at Braden’s townhouse with equal desire for him to stay inside forever where I can’t see him, and for him to walk out in plain view. It’s heartbreaking to not be able to talk to him. Even if he does come out, I still intend to keep my promise to Milo as much as I can. I won’t approach him, won’t try to speak to him. I just need to keep him safe.

The three days between Braden attacking me and talking to Milo were torture. I kept away from Braden’s house entirely. Daniel spares every free minute he can watching over his adopted grandson, but with how much the new Ciphers have to train, it isn’t enough. He offered to try and change his schedule, but I wouldn’t let him. Milo would have asked questions. Lance and Dean pitch in at night whenever they can, but they are both in school during the day. Which leaves only me.

I have a lot more free time during the day, for the time being, since I’m still waiting on my appeal hearing to let me back into high school. I tried to find anyone else to fill this gap, but the risk of drawing in any more people and alerting Milo wasn’t worth it. So I sit here, staring down Braden’s street, watching for even the smallest hint of Guardian approach.

Braden hasn’t bothered to leave his house yet, but he’ll have to eventually, and that will be the perfect time for Blackwood to come after him. I wait for that moment, fearing it as well. It’s been a long week.

I was at Braden’s house the night before he was taken, playing—and not playing—at making Blackwood think Braden was trying to seduce me so he could figure out what I was planning. I remember looking for a snack that night and finding very little. I remember other things about that night, too, things I should being trying to forget. I shake away those kinds of thoughts.

Braden is going to have to get groceries, eventually.

My stomach rumbles, and I contemplate sneaking away for a quick bite to eat. I have to be back at the training house by one o’clock to keep working with Hammond on identifying Seekers. His Perception isn’t the strongest I’ve ever seen. Concealment, on the other hand, that guy is incredible. I have to really work to find him when he tries to elude me. I think he could walk into a crowded restaurant in Uptown buck naked and go completely unnoticed. I’m learning as much from him as he is from me. I check my phone and realize I only have an hour before I’m due back. Lunch can wait. I don’t want to leave yet.

I pick up the latest intel report and glance at it with one eye still on Braden’s front door. I’m considering whether or not the Seeker who eats lunch every day at a local Mexican restaurant is high enough up on the Seeker chain to be worth grabbing when a black sedan rolls up next to Braden’s house. Its dark tinted windows and general bullet proof appearance sets me on edge immediately. My hand is on the door, but I don’t push it open quite yet. I wait until I see the clean shaven head of a rather ragged looking Blackwood step out.

Concealment rages through me. Thanks to Hammond’s unusual techniques, I douse myself in a mask that pulls me into the background of anyone’s mind that might look at me. It works even better than what I used before. I’m not actually invisible, or anything, but not only does it make me harder to notice, it actually diverts people’s minds from looking in my direction. I slip out of my Bronco and creep across the street, close enough to hear Blackwood calling for Braden through the door. For the first time in a week, I find myself truly praying Braden doesn’t come out.

Like always, nobody cares what I think. The door cracks open. Braden peers out at his former Captain with wary eyes. It’s the completely wrong time, but heaven help me, he looks good. The stubble on his face is new, and not at all a bad look for him. His eyes blink at the bright sunlight, but the little flashes of the clear blue of his eyes sends a profound ache through me. I only wish there wasn’t so much pain in them.

“Braden,” Blackwood says, “I was expecting your report days ago.”

“There’s nothing to report. I failed.”

Blackwood grinds his jaw together, which must be painful given the bruises I left on him that are still dotting his jaw. I’m only sorry I didn’t do more. Stupid, psychotic madman. My fists ball up with the desire to pound on his face a little more.

“What do you mean you failed?” Blackwood asks. “If you had failed, you would be dead. Since you’re not, I think you must be lying to me again. What, are you trying to oppose the Oath? Is that why you look like crap? It won’t work. You know that.”

“I’m not trying to oppose anything, Blackwood. I went. I followed your twisted Oath and tracked her down. I couldn’t kill her.”

“Then why aren’t you dead!”

“Because I’m not, okay? That’s the end of it, so leave me alone.” Braden attempts to close the door on him, but Blackwood shoves it back open.

He grabs Braden and slams him up against the door frame. I’m on the edge of my toes, ready to finish what I started with Blackwood, whether I dent Braden’s pride any more than I already have or not.

“Don’t try to walk away from me, Braden. You are a traitor, and my subordinate. You aren’t done with this mission until I tell you that you are. Do you understand me?” he shouts.

Braden’s eyes light up with a fire that wasn’t there before. He clamps his own hand down on top of Blackwood’s and slowly forces it away. Impressive, actually, since I’m positive Blackwood must be tapping his Strength. There’s no talent to back Braden up, but his own physical strength isn’t weak, either. Maybe Lance was right about that part, at least. Blackwood sneers at the man who used to be his pupil with unrestrained malice.

“I,” Braden spits, “am not your subordinate anymore. You have no claim over me. Get off my property. Now.”

Blackwood cackles at him. “Are you quitting? Is that what you’re telling me?”

He rips the front of Braden’s shirt like it was tissue paper, exposing the crisscrossing scars left there from the last time he disobeyed an order. “You don’t get to quit the Guardians, remember, Braden? There’s no way out. You’re in for life, and I’m going to make the rest of it miserable as Hell. You will finish your mission, or you will pay dearly for it.”

“No,” Braden says, “I won’t.”

Blackwood loses it. He throws Braden to the ground and cocks back a fist that will likely demolish Braden’s face. The only thing that saves Braden is his quick reflexes. As soon as he hits the ground, his body lurches to the side, knocking out Blackwood’s poorly planted knee. He looks so slow as he scrambles back up to his feet. Despite catching his captain off guard, Blackwood has him again before he can escape and kicks his legs out from under him. Braden lands with a thud, gasping for the breath that was just knocked out of him.

I can’t wait any longer. I rise from my hiding place and aim myself straight at Blackwood’s throat. Before I can move, Braden’s hand shoots up and catches another of Blackwood’s fists. He can’t match his Strength, but he’s grabbing Blackwood with his right hand. The sight of Braden’s wrist stops Blackwood cold. He rocks back on his heels, and Braden doesn’t let the opportunity pass him by. Getting to his feet quickly, he edges away from him.

“What happened to you?” Blackwood asks. “Did she do that?”

Braden doesn’t say anything.

“Did she do that to you?” he screams. He grabs Braden again and yanks his face right in front of his own. “Did that psychotic abomination do that to you?”

He may refuse to see me anymore, but he still isn’t willing to betray what I can really do. His silence infuriates Blackwood, who looks like he’s about to strike him again. Finally, Braden speaks.

“Watch it, Blackwood, I’m not one of your men anymore. I’m just another nobody to protect. You hurt me, and you’ll be breaking the Oath you pretend you made to serve and protect.” Braden’s eyes dart around to the spattering of neighbors watching the scene play out either through the safety of their windows or from out on the street. “They’ve already seen enough to start asking questions. How many more should they ask?”

A sane person would back down at this point. I don’t think anyone would ever accuse Blackwood of being sane. Fury bursts out of him, and I start running across the lawn as he moves to smash Braden into the ground. A sharp, cold voice freezes us both.

“Leave him, Blackwood. There are too many witnesses.”

My head whips around to find the source of such a malevolent voice. Seeing the thin, perfect face, slicked back blond hair, and clear blue eyes that go with the voice, completely devoid of emotion or empathy isn’t what makes my vision swim. I didn’t realize I’d tapped every one of my talents. Perception illuminates the halo of constant Vision tapping around the man, making him look like a specter of death marching up the drive. I am too stunned by the sheer power of this man’s talents, this Seeker’s talents, to move as he approaches Braden. Braden stands stock still, frozen in his fear.

Blackwood steps back immediately, and I can feel the terror seeping out of both him and Braden. Whoever this guy is, even Blackwood is afraid of him. That thought truly chills me. The Seeker takes Braden’s right hand and inspects his wrist very thoroughly. He stares at Braden thoughtfully for several seconds before turning back to Blackwood.

“We’re leaving,” he states with the same emotionless tenor.

“But, Drake …”

The black gaze the Seeker levels at Blackwood shuts him up immediately. They both start walking away in silence, Blackwood trailing behind like a wounded puppy. But the Seeker doesn’t leave it at that. He turns back to Braden and says, “This won’t be the last time we meet, young man.”

My brain turns back on, and I know immediately that this is the man we have to kidnap. I have enough sense to snatch my phone out of my pocket and snap a quick, silent picture of him before he turns away. He slips back into the car like a ghost and they drive away. My whole body shivers in relief. I turn back and find Braden looking directly at me even though I still have my Concealment firmly in place.

“Go home, Libby. I can take care of myself.”

He darts back inside before I can say anything. I’m left staring at his front door. I don’t know what to make of him knowing I was here, but one thing I do know for sure is that Braden definitely cannot take care of himself. Sure, he fended off Blackwood for a while. Maybe he could even kill him if he really set his mind to it, but that soulless Seeker will grind him into the carpet with barely a glance. Braden can’t defend himself against that man. I’m not even sure I can.

Chapter 12

Evaluation

As usual, my mind is a million miles away from where it’s supposed to be. I should be focusing on the hearing going on around me. I should be listening to the school district’s lawyer as he argues the many reasons I shouldn’t be let back into school. I should be concentrating on what my defense will be. Instead, I am sketching a picture of the Seeker, Drake, that I want to kidnap. His dead, frightening eyes stare back at me from the paper. Just thinking of him makes me want to crawl into bed with a stuffed animal and blame my shivers on a monster under the bed.

I know he can show me everything I need to know. What I don’t know is who he is. For nearly a week we have tried everything to figure out who he is. Not a single trace of him on the internet. No public appearances, no interviews, no formal title laid out in professional type, nothing. He is a ghost among a brotherhood of nightmares.

I know there must be some facial recognition software, or something, capable of figuring out who this guy is, but if there is, it’s probably in the hands of the Guardians and no one else. The only other chance at figuring out who he is will be waiting for him to show back up at Braden’s like he promised. How long will that take? I have no idea, maybe too long.

My name being called drags me back to the situation at hand. I almost didn’t bother with all of this, but the fact that support for me among people my age is growing faster than I ever expected pushed me to follow through. The school has become a perfect place to meet with new recruits or to plan and exchange information safely. The lack of Guardians and media make it a better option than anywhere else. Not to mention my being out in public will help dispel rumors about Howe killing me and let people see who I really am. This hearing has a similar purpose.

I push my chair back and stand up. The panel of school board representatives stares at me anxiously. I can’t believe anything I will say today is going to change their minds. They think I should be locked up like the rest of the world. I’d just walk out if I could, but I can’t. I feel like giving up on school will be an admission by me that it doesn’t matter if I graduate because I’m never going to live long enough for it to be an issue, but even more because it is a perfect place to finally tell the truth. I believe I’m going to make this world better, and hopefully not destroy myself in the process, but now I need everyone else to believe it, too.

The panel waits quietly.

“Look,” I say frankly, “I know the school district’s lawyer gave a lot of really great reasons why I shouldn’t be allowed back at school. I know that hardly anyone actually wants me there. You all think I’m dangerous and just waiting to, I don’t know, disintegrate the school with everyone in it or something, but I’m not. I want to be at school. I want to graduate, and no matter what that other guy just said, you really don’t have any good reasons for keeping me out.”

One brave board member opens his mouth as if to say something, but it doesn’t quite make it past his lips. I don’t wait for him to find his voice.

“I haven’t caused any problems at school in the past year. I don’t ditch, or cheat, or smoke pot in the girls’ bathroom. Nothing in the school handbook or district laws give you a reason to keep me out,” I say.

Finally, the little man who tried to speak a moment ago clears his throat. “What about the two days of school you missed two weeks ago? Those were not excused absences. The Concealment Officers attempted to find you, but you weren’t home and your mother had no idea where you might be. That in itself is enough reason for this hearing.”

“I don’t live with my mom anymore. I tried to tell the school that, but they didn’t listen to me. I haven’t lived with my mom since she kicked me out last year. And I couldn’t have my absences excused, despite having an emergency that took me out of the country, because my mom and I are not on speaking terms. She’s the only parent I have left, but she wouldn’t write me an excuse to save my life,” I snap at the balding man.

He shrinks back from me, but stammers out another question. “If you don’t live with your mother, who do you live with? You must have some other guardian.”

“I live by myself,” I say. “Nobody else was willing to take me in.” That’s not entirely true, but what the heck, maybe sympathy will work since logic and law don’t seem to be getting me any brownie points with these people.

Whether they feel bad for me or not, nobody speaks for several minutes. I feel my chances starting to crumble in the silence. A tall woman wearing a blue blazer with a ruffled blouse beneath it forces herself to face me. Her words are as crisp as her appearance.

“What emergency kept you from going to school two weeks ago, the eleventh and twelfth of August? A Thursday and Friday, I believe.”

A moment of fear captures me. This could be a huge mistake. Only something truly shocking is going to make them look at me as something other than a promise of death. I need to convince them that I’m trying to save people, not hurt them. Not unless I absolutely have to.

So, I do what I came here to do. I tell them the truth.

All five members of the disciplinary panel sit at rigid attention through my entire, highly annotated, explanation of everything that has happened over the last year. I can see the doubt in their eyes when I tell them about the Ciphers—except for the elderly woman on the end—and the Sihirs, especially. Funnily enough, the cruelty of the Guardians doesn’t shock them nearly as much as I thought it would. I guess I’m not the only one who didn’t have a super high opinion of them to start with. They control the world through fear, not respect. When I get to freeing the Ciphers, but losing the eighty-seven to the Seekers, every one of them reacts in some way. Disbelief, anger, grief—at least they’re listening. I don’t mention Milo killing the nameless Seeker.

I reach the end and simply fold my arms across my chest. There’s nothing else I can really say. The elderly woman on the end is the first to speak. “That’s where they all went,” she says softly. “I went to the spirit world last week, and it was completely empty. My dearest friend, Elisa, wasn’t there anymore. I had no idea what had happened.”

“Elisa Davenport? She’s in a town outside of London, ma’am. I’ll give you contact information later if you want. I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you,” I say hopefully. The woman nods with relief. Too bad they aren’t all Spiritualists.

The room falls quiet as the others consider what to do with me. Hushed words are exchanged between them for a few minutes before growing more heated. A self-important looking man in a double breasted suit is slowly turning red as he argues with the woman in the blazer. The bald guy rubs his head as he thinks. The fifth, a younger woman who looks unsure of what’s going on is asking the old lady about something. I don’t know how long they really argue, but it feels like ten years before the blazer lady finally calls for a vote.

All I need is a majority. Elisa’s friend raises her hand in favor of letting me go back to school. I smile as warmly as I can at her. Blazer Lady raises her hand as well. The bald guy and younger woman both look unsure. The two men are sitting next to each other and the angry man in the suit is practically yelling at the other one to vote against me. I don’t know if he actually believes anything I’ve said or he just wants to get away from that lunatic, but the bald guy finally raises his hand and scoots his chair away. I don’t really need her vote, but the younger woman raise her hand as well, muttering about me having the best excuse she’s ever heard for missing class, whether it’s true or not.

The angry man pushes his chair back and storms out as soon as the blazer lady makes the vote official. I get to rejoin the torment of public high school. Yeah for me. I hate school, but I smile anyway. My smile only lasts until I stand up and turn around. Blackwood glares at me from the back of the room. Images of him trying to beat Braden to a pulp flash through my mind, making my fist tighten around the chair I was about to push back in. The smooth, old wood creaks under the pressure. Attacking him in front of everyone will not only get me kicked out of school again, it will get me arrested. As he stands stoically at the back of the room, waiting, I realize that’s exactly what he’s trying to bait me into doing.

The wood of the chair groans in relief as I release it. I have to force myself to push the chair in calmly, pick up my purse, and pick up the stack of papers I’d been given at the beginning of this thing. That’s about as far as I get. Turning around and walking out past him is going to get me, I’m sure. I won’t get within ten feet of him and be able to stop myself from punching him right in the face.

The older woman who asked about her friend saves me from having to face Blackwood quite yet.

She looks leery of actually approaching me, but I smile and close the last few feet between us myself. As calmly as she can manage, she introduces herself and asks if I could really put her in touch with her friend, Elisa. I’m pretty sure she’ll faint if I touch her. Moving slowly so I don’t startle her, I take a pen and scrap of paper out of my purse and copy down the number for the handler in England. I explain about not being able to give her too many specifics, but that the handler will get her in contact with her friend. She looks a little less afraid once she has the number in hand.

I smile as she walks away, thrilled the first stage of this plan worked so well. It took me a while to convince everyone else. We have been arguing for two weeks about whether or not the Ciphers should be allowed to contact anyone on the outside. I wanted to let them tell their stories. No one else agreed. They all thought it was too risky. When I brought up using the hearing as a way to test out the idea, they started to give in. Most of the Ciphers already had friends on the outside. Word is going to get out about what I told the panel today. Now when the Ciphers start getting in contact with friends and family, explaining where they are and what has really been happening to them, it won’t be such big news. Maybe people will begin to realize that I’m not trying to destroy the entire world, just the part that’s poisoning it. I want to make things better for people. It’s a long shot, one that’s going to seriously drive up cell phone bills, but it’s definitely worth a try.

I turn around feeling vaguely optimistic and run right into Blackwood, with my ex-best friend, Jen, hovering a safe distance away, ready to jot everything down for her blog. I didn’t even notice she was here. A few unresolved issues I have with her involving some pictures she took boil to the front of my mind, and the desire to strangle her becomes almost too intense to resist. Luckily for her, Blackwood moves closer to me and steals my attention.

“So, they decided to let you back in,” Blackwood says, “despite my specific recommendation that you be kept away from others at all costs.”

I snort at his supposed self-importance. “I know what you were trying to do, Blackwood. Isolate me from others, make me feel like I’m completely alone, make me desperate. Sound familiar?”

His already tight jaw grinds together even more. He doesn’t bother refuting it.

“Well, I guess I can understand that approach,” I tell him. “It wasn’t going to work, though. I wouldn’t expect someone like you, cold and arrogant, to understand that, but good try. All you really did was give me a much needed rest and time to start training Ciphers. Really, Blackwood, you’ve been a big help. Thanks.”

Antagonizing him is a stupid, possibly even suicidal thing to do, but the anger in his eyes at being called out for his own stupidity is too rewarding to miss. His emotions buzz against my skin, crazed and volatile. I was wrong before. Punching him wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying. Watching him try to contain his hatred for me is great fun. I don’t know why he even tries. He should know perfectly well that I can feel everything he’s feeling. I notice the last few stragglers in the room staring at the pair of us. Ah, he’s not keeping his reactions under control for me. It’s for them, the ones that still believe he represents justice and safety. Fools.

I move to step around Blackwood, but he grabs my arm and holds me back. Jen is scribbling like a maniac. His oily voice slithers into my head as he speaks. “The one good thing about those incompetents letting you back into school is that the next time I need you for an evaluation, I’ll know exactly where you are.”

“What?” I ask as I snap around to face him. Jen perks up as well.

“Oh, did you forget?” he says with mock politeness. “Braden’s evaluations of you weren’t complete. I fully intend on continuing them. Personally.”

No, no, no, he can’t be serious! I don’t let him see my panic, though. Instead, I say, “You taking the job for the same reason Braden did? Getting beat up by a girl carries some pretty heavy punishments, doesn’t it?”

“I’m taking the job because I don’t trust anyone else to do it,” he snaps.

“Not because you lost your command and are being punished?” I ask sweetly.

He ignores me. “You may have seduced Braden into betraying us, but you won’t have the same luck with me, Libby.”

Eew, I wouldn’t even want to try. Besides, Braden totally seduced me, not the other way around. I tried to stay away from him, but that boy is persistent … and handsome, and charming, and a really good kisser. Guilt for thoughts like that forces my attention back to Blackwood. Another witty remark eludes me. I just grimace at the very idea of even pretending to like him, as if I just tasted old gym socks.

For some reason, I think that annoys him. His narrow eyes thin even more. “I’ll find out what you’re still hiding, Libby. You can count on that.”

“I won’t go with you.” I’ll add to his collection of bruises before I get into a car with him.

He sneers and gestures at the desk where the disciplinary panel was seated earlier. “If you don’t, they’ll kick you back out. Regardless of what you say, you wouldn’t be here today if being expelled didn’t bother you. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. You’ll come with me or I’ll be forced to start investigating your accomplices for their part in your most recent activities.”

He can’t. The Guardians are keeping the whole thing a secret. They won’t admit to anything I just told the panel. He can’t give any justified reason to Principal Andrews to pull anyone out. Can he? His snake-like smile makes me doubt myself.

“I think I’ll start with Milo,” Blackwood says. He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Or maybe Lance. I wonder which one can withstand more pain. I’d go with Lance. He’s had his talents longer.”

“You touch either of them and I’ll—”

“Excuse me?” Blackwood interrupts, glancing back at Jen. “You’ll what? Would you like to tell everyone? I can call the disciplinary panel back in. I’m sure they’d love to hear what you’re going to do to me, a respected officer of the law. Should I go get them?”

Respected? That’s a laugh.

“Just give me one reason to lock you up, Libby, and I will.”

“You could try,” I say.

He doesn’t appreciate that and crushes my arm under his grip. “Not even you know what Guardians are capable of. Assault me in public where I have eager witnesses to tell the world of your depravity and you’ll get to see firsthand just what I can do to you.”

“You think you could hold me? I’m the most powerful person on the planet. You can’t keep me. You can’t even deal with me now. If you really had any secret way of tracking or holding me you would know by now that I have more power than you ever will. Oh, and you have no idea how much I already know about you and your brothers.” I yank his hand off my arm and take a sharp step back. “One thing I do know, Blackwood, is what you’re afraid of. How’s your buddy Drake doing, lately? Did he leave you with a few dozen new scars like you did to Braden? You both lost to me. I don’t think it’s fair if you didn’t get punished like he did.”

At the mention of Drake’s name, whoever he is, Blackwood blanches, the color draining even from his ears and lips. He doesn’t know that a picture and a name—I don’t even know if it’s a first or last name—is all I really know about Drake. Apparently, it’s enough that I know even that to make him want to crawl into a hole and hide. Good. Let him chew on that for a while. Maybe it will make him a little less eager to tangle with me. Maybe it will keep him away from Braden for a while.

Or maybe he’ll make the connection about how I found out about Drake and pressure or hurt Braden even more. Crap. Leaving Blackwood to choke on his own panic, I stalk out of the room quickly. I really have to do something about Braden before one of us ends up getting him killed.

Chapter 13

Inhumanity

I have the urge to go bang on Braden’s door and demand he let me protect him right after I run away from Blackwood, but my mid-morning meeting with the disciplinary panel drug on for nearly five hours, thanks to the school district’s very, very prepared lawyer. School is out by the time I get away, which means should mean Lance is waiting for me outside the building. I stutter to a stop when I see Milo instead. Despite our discussion last week, Milo has been slow to accept me back into his life.

I knew it would be incredibly difficult for him, so I’ve been patient. He said he didn’t want to lose me, but that hardly meant he wanted to be around me constantly while he was still so hurt. I’ve done my best to be there if he wants me, but stay away when he doesn’t. Today is the first time he’s made an effort to seek me out. I start walking toward him, approaching slowly.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” I ask.

“It’s fine.” He watches me, but doesn’t make an attempt to get any closer. He says, “Hope asked Lance to help her with something after school. He asked if I would meet you and see how the hearing went.”

“Oh,” I say with a smile, “thanks.”

Milo shifts, but doesn’t move. “So how did it go? How did everyone react when you told them the truth about everything?”

“Well,” I say, “they overturned my expulsion after I told them about the Ciphers and Blackwood and the deals I’ve made with Howe. It went pretty good, actually. Better than I was expecting.”

“They actually believed you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know about that, but they were willing to give me the benefit of doubt. One of the board members was a Spiritualist. She asked about a friend, Elisa. I think she believed me, at least a little.”

“Huh,” Milo says.

He was against me taking this route. He thought it was too risky because we couldn’t guarantee people’s reaction. Surprisingly, he has also been the biggest opponent to letting the Ciphers start making contact with people they knew. He’s afraid someone will reveal too much and we’ll be compromised. I trust my army enough that I don’t think it will be a problem. If anyone can appreciate keeping a secret and staying hidden, it’s the Ciphers.

“There were some other interesting developments,” I say, and proceed to tell him about Blackwood and Jen both being there. We’re discussing what, if anything needs to be done about Jen when my cell phone starts ringing. Tension builds around me as I listen.

“Inquisitor Moore just found another Cipher,” I say as I slip my phone back into my pocket.

Milo’s eyes light up. “Let’s go.”

At least it’s here in town and not clear across the country this time. We race over to his house to find a frightened and crying young woman named Hannah. It takes a lot longer to explain everything to her and her mom than it did with Dean because they’re both so hysterical. When we finally get them calmed down, I’m able to perform the Inquest on Hannah. Even though I told her what would happen, the sight of the black diktats cropping up on her left wrist instead of the traditional right sets off another round of tears.

Milo is no help at all. He used to be good with crying girls, but he keeps his distance this time. Eventually, Hannah and her mother run out of tears and sober up enough to listen to me. I start explaining about the training house and the other Ciphers, and Hannah begins to perk up. When I unlocked her talents, I also named her to the Creator class. Unlike most people, Ciphers rarely get very strong hints of their talents before their Inquests, though most still had a leaning toward what they hoped they would have. Hannah has apparently had an affinity for Naturalism since childhood.

When I tell her about Milo’s dad teaching about healing, and everything I’ve learned to do with Naturalism, she actually starts to get excited, mostly about the healing. She’s wanted to be a doctor since she was little, she tells me. Happy to have finally found something to keep her from crying all over me, I tell her about our training schedule and invite her to join us. Milo finally joins the discussion at that point and fills her in on a few more details I missed. He also brings up the issue of protection against the Guardians, which almost sets them to crying again until Hannah’s mother thinks to mention that her brother and nephew live nearby and both are perfectly capable of protecting Hannah with her brother being a boxer and her nephew being an amateur race car driver. Both have Speed and Strength and neither one has anything to do with the Guardians.

Needless to say, when we finally finish up with Hannah and her mom, it’s past dinner time and I’m exhausted. My day isn’t over yet, though. Lance and I are both on reconnaissance duty tonight. I almost expect Milo to say he’s stepped in for Lance on this as well, but apparently not.

Before we leave Inquisitor Moore’s house, Milo reveals what is possibly the real reason he met me today. “The picture you gave us of Drake, you know we ran it through every facial recognition software we could get our hands on with no results, but it did turn up something else today when we tried a new program. An address.”

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that is making a rapid descent to my toes. “An address?”

“The program spit out possible locations of where the picture was taken. One of them happened to be on Braden’s street.” The air around us starts to condense, gaining weight and pressing in on me. “What were you doing there?” Milo demands.

“I was just watching his house. I haven’t talked to him. He didn’t even know I was there.”

Milo’s knuckles groan under the force of his clenched fists. His jaw isn’t experiencing any less pressure. For once, I don’t shrink away from Milo’s anger. I defend myself.

“Milo, I told you I wouldn’t let him get murdered by the Guardians. I asked you to do this for me so I wouldn’t have to, but you said couldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I agree. It’s a cruel thing that I asked of him, but I had to. I have to keep doing it. “I can’t let him die,” I say quietly. “I understand if you can’t do this for me. I’m not angry. I don’t blame you. But I that means I have to do it myself. I’m sorry, Milo, but I can’t walk away like that.”

“You promised me,” he says.

My heart breaks. I will do anything else for him. He has to understand that! I will submit to any other demand he makes of me in penance for what I did to him. I only ask him to understand this one thing. I pour every ounce of sincerity into my voice as I try to make him see my point of view.

“I’m trying my best to keep it. I am. I’ll stay as far away from him as possible, but I will not let them kill him.” I reach for him, desperate for him to understand. Milo stands firm, refusing to bend. I hug my arms around myself and pray I can get through to him.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not committed to you, Milo. You know I love you. I’ve done everything I can in the last two weeks to show you how much I love you. Protecting him doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever else you ask of me if it will help me prove I would give anything to keep you. All this means is that I can’t let an innocent person die when I could stop it.”

I can’t let Braden die. I can’t turn my back on him forever and not know if he ever forgave me or found someone else. I can’t … my chin drops to my chest in defeat. I can’t walk away from Braden.

I expect some kind of response from Milo. When I don’t get one, I look up. I wait for him to react. Anger, yelling, demands, something. Milo breaks off his gaze with me and turns away. “Milo, please,” I beg. I take a step after him. He whirls around to face me.

“All I asked was for you to forget him, completely. Gone. Out of our lives forever.”

“You asked the one thing I can’t do.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” he demands.

My answer stalls. I don’t know.

“That’s what I thought,” he snaps, taking my silence in the worst way.

“Milo, wait!” I grab at him, but he bats me away, leaving a welt on my forearm and trail of bitterness as he turns away.

He’s in his car and driving away a few seconds later. I stand alone next to my Bronco, numb despite the warmth of the late summer sun. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the answer to Milo’s question, either.

I slowly get into my car, wondering if I am wrong. Should I leave Braden to his fate? Do I have any right to have let him into my life, used him, broke him, and then simply throw him away? I drive back toward my house to meet Lance, asking the question over and over again.

Lance is already waiting when I get home. I stuff my confusion and hurt away and head out into the desert with him to do a little spying and hopefully clear my head.

Picking out a spot to watch the comings and goings of the Guardians that we haven’t already used takes only a few minutes. We’re situated on a low ridge that gives a good view of the road leading up to the compound as well as the entrance to the building before the sun has fully set. Lance hands me a pair of night vision binoculars, but I set them aside for now. It’s still too light out. He notices my solemn demeanor and makes an attempt at drawing me out.

“So, you have anything planned for tomorrow?” Lance asks.

“Uh, no. Why?” I ask, trying to think of why he would ask. All we ever do anymore is train and plan, nothing too unusual about that.

“Nothing? Come on, Libby. There has to be something you want to do. You can’t just ignore what day it is,” Lance complains.

Okay, I think I’m missing something. “Tomorrow’s Wednesday, big deal. I get to go back to school, I guess. That’ll be nice. I’ve been getting kind of tired of hanging out alone so much.”

Lance just stares at me. “Libby, tomorrow is your birthday.”

“What?” I have to count the days off in my head. A laugh bubbles out of me when I realize he’s right. I can’t believe I forgot. My dark mood lightens just a little.

“You really forgot?” Lance asks.

“Sorry, my mind’s been a little preoccupied lately.”

Lance nods. We’ve all been too busy to think of much besides the Guardians and Seekers, and I've had the added worry of Milo and Braden. He nudges me with his elbow after a while, and says, “So? What do you want to do tomorrow?”

Now it’s my turn to stare at him. “Nothing,” I say again.

“Libby …”

“No, I’m serious, Lance. I don’t want to do anything tomorrow. It’s my birthday, so what? All it means is that I’m getting that much closer to my deadline. I’m running out of time to destroy the Guardians and save the world, and they’re running out of time to kill me. I really don’t feel like celebrating that, okay? Just forget it.”

“Come on, Libby, we’ve always celebrated our birthdays with each other. Every year we’ve done something special,” he argues.

He’s right, of course. For seventeen years we have spent our birthdays together. The only one we’ve missed was Lance’s last birthday. But that was back when I hated him for trying to kill me and he hated me for being the Destroyer. He forgave me for missing his party.

“Will you pick me up for school tomorrow?” I ask, biting my lip to keep it from trembling.

“Milo isn’t picking you up?” he asks.

“I didn’t ask him,” I admit. “I don’t think he wants to.”

“What happened? I thought he was starting to cool off.”

Lance didn’t like Milo to start with, and time hasn’t changed that. He has never wanted me to be with him. When Braden appeared, after Lance was sure he wasn’t trying to kill me, he was all for me ditching Milo. I know he can’t stand Milo, but for the last few weeks he’s been extra cooperative and pleasant with him for my benefit. Why I want to stay with Milo is a mystery to him, but he worries about me being happy.

“Milo found out I’m watching over Braden,” I say.

Lance sighs. He wanted to help me out with Braden, and he has a few times, but with school and the Ciphers and Seekers, he didn’t have enough time. “Sorry, Libby. What did he say?”

“Nothing I didn’t deserve, probably.” I let my gaze wander from the compound and ask Lance the question that has been plaguing me. “Am I wrong to protect Braden?”

“No,” he says, “but I understand why Milo is angry about it.”

“I do to. I really do, but I can’t not do it.”

Lance turns to look at me. “The reason I can feel your emotional responses through the bond and Milo can’t is because I know you better than he does. I know that regardless of that fact that you are ridiculously in love with Braden, your need to protect him doesn’t have nearly as much to do with loving him as it does with who you are. It wouldn’t matter who was in Braden’s situation. You would be bound and determine to protect whoever it was, because it’s the right thing to do. I can see that. Milo can’t.”

I smile, my eyes glassy with tears and gratitude. “You really believe that?”

“Of course I do,” he says. His eyes go back to watching the compound.

“Thank you, Lance.”

Feeling a million times better than I did a few seconds ago, I settle in to watch the compound with Lance. Milo will eventually understand what Lance sees. I’m sure he will. If he were in my position, he would be doing the same thing. He just needs a little more time to see it. I can wait. At least, I think I can. Judging from Milo’s ability to hate Guardians, he knows how to hold a grudge better than anyone I’ve ever met. Forgiving me will take time, but time is never something I’ve ever had a lot of.

“Me driving you to school doesn’t count as something special to do on your birthday,” Lance says, “just so you know.”

“How about some ice cream after school, then?”

“Just ice cream? I was thinking dinner and a movie,” Lance says, “but we can do ice cream after the movie if you want. What do you say?”

Worry starts building in my mind that Lance is trying to take me on a date, a real date. He accepted a while ago that we are only friends now, but that was back when I was dating Milo and trying to not have anything to do with Braden. Maybe he’s given up on both Braden and Milo, and now he sees this as his chance to renew something between us. Part of me is so tempted to see where a real date might lead. I miss being held, being kissed, being told that everything will be okay. I hate going to bed knowing how much I’ve hurt people. It’s tempting, but the answer has to be no. I just can’t be with Lance in that way anymore.

“Lance, I don’t …”

“I want you to have fun, take your mind off all this for a while,” he says, gesturing at the silent Guardian compound. “You’ve been so down lately. It makes me worry about you, Libby. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“It’s not a good idea, Lance. I like our relationship how it is now. I don’t want to mess that up,” I say, hoping I don’t hurt his feelings.

Lance is silent for a few seconds, and I’m afraid I’ve offended him until I feel a small stream of amusement drifting out of him. Confused, I have to look over at him. His warm, half smile doesn’t help me figure it out. He catches me staring at him and throws his arm around my shoulder. He tries to hide the laughter in his voice, but fails pretty miserably.

“Libby, I wasn’t trying to ask you out on a date. I know how you feel about that already.” He pauses and really looks down at me. “And to be honest, I feel the same way, now. I’m glad we’re friends again, and I think that’s how things should stay between us.”

“Really?” I hope he’s not just saying that for my benefit. The honesty in his mind and emotions is clear, but I still remember the days of him and Milo fighting with each other because of their jealousy.

His arm tightens around my shoulders. “Really. I didn’t think I’d ever feel that way, but I guess it just kind of snuck up on me. I love you, Libby, and I always will, but it’s changed. Well, I guess not really changed, because I loved you as my best friend before we ever starting dating. So I guess it’s just back to what it was supposed to be in the first place. Does that make sense?”

For the first time today, I truly relax. I lean into Lance and let the tension in my body go free for a few minutes. “Yeah,” I say, “that makes perfect sense.”

I can feel his relief and pleasure seeping into me. It’s a nice feeling. At least one of my relationships is still functioning.

“Actually,” Lance says, “I was thinking that maybe we could invite some of the others to go with us tomorrow. You know, give everyone a chance to unwind a little? Hope especially. She’s still pretty intense about everything. She’ll only come if you do.”

I can’t really pinpoint anything specific, but something about the way he said her name, or maybe the emotions that popped up when he said it, catch my attention. It’s hard to say her name without sounding at least a little happy. That isn’t it, though. Lance’s fingers drum against my shoulder, a nervous tick he’s always had. What does he have to be nervous about? Suddenly, it clicks.

“Hope, huh? You been spending much time with her?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I guess. She doesn’t really have any friends at school, mostly because she scares people away, but people know she’s with us, too. Anyone who isn’t with us treats her like she has the plague, and even the people on our side are scared of her. I, uh, I’ve been walking with her to class and stuff,” Lance says, stumbling through it. The something odd that struck my attention earlier gets stronger. Embarrassment.

I laugh, and revel in a moment of happiness. “Lance, do you like Hope?”

He freezes. “No. I mean sure. She’s nice enough.” Lance stops himself, because Hope really isn’t that nice. Maybe she would be if she weren’t so angry all the time. “I don’t know, Libby. I feel like an idiot. She pretty much ignores me most of the time unless I’m talking about missions, and she glares at me constantly, but I just really like her for some reason. Am I crazy?”

“Is this what convinced you to be okay with me and you not being together anymore?” I ask through another laugh.

His sheepish smile makes me laugh even harder. This is just too funny. It was strange enough that Lance, Mr. Quarterback, handsome, flirty, rich, generally amazing guy ended up with weirdo-me. He should be dating the cheer captain and hosting the most outrageous parties. Instead, he’s watching a motionless Guardian compound with me and finding himself attracted to an angry, although quite pretty, slightly homicidal teenage girl. These are the kinds of things that make it hard for me to believe in destiny. It’s just too strange.

When I finally quit laughing, I say, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Lance. I think it’s nice that you’ve found someone else you’re interested in, even if she does scare me a little.”

He grimaces, and I nudge him playfully.

“I’m just kidding. I’m sure Hope is a really great girl. She’s just been through a lot. I can’t imagine being held prisoner by the Guardians for eight months. I bet what she really needs is a friend to show her that everything isn’t as bad as she thinks it is. I definitely think you should take her to a movie.”

“So, you’ll come?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Thanks, but I actually have something else I need to do tomorrow. Maybe we can see a movie this weekend.” On the weekend, Daniel is free to watch Braden’s house for me.

“What do you need to do tomorrow?”

“You know no one else is free to watch Braden. At some point, Drake is going to show back up. I’m afraid of what will happen to Braden if he doesn’t let me protect him,” I say. My throat constricts as I think of someone hurting Braden. No matter who it is, it would be my fault. I let him get captured. I didn’t rescue him in time. I stripped him of the only way he had to protect himself. My eyes fill with stinging tears. If I can’t keep him safe, I don’t deserve to win this fight.

Lance sighs next to me and stares out at the compound below us. “And you miss him.”

“And I miss him,” I whisper. A thought traitorous to Milo, but true, regardless. Renegade tears slip past my control and plop down on my jeans. I miss him so much. It’s been torture waiting for him to do … something. Worse than when he was taken. At least then, I could still believe he loved me. I thought for sure Braden really loved me before, but the way he ran when our link was broken, the fact that he refuses to see anyone, including me, makes me wonder if it was only an illusion after all. Almost as much as my promise to Milo, facing him and finding out for sure whether his love for me was all forced keeps me from making contact. If everything I’ve put him through wasn’t bad enough, I’ve also put him in incredible danger. More tears fall and it starts getting harder to breathe.

That one morning, I kissed him. It wasn't the sneak attack from the first time he kissed me, or the sudden rush of elation when I stopped him from killing me, or the quick secretive touches and looks he would give when I wasn’t expecting them. For the first time, I kissed him because I honestly wanted to. I wanted nothing more than him at that moment. Sure, I thought I was still asleep and dreaming when I did it, but I think we all know what an excuse that is. Awake or not, I wanted to kiss him. I refuse to admit to myself that it was all pretend.

“Are you going to try and see him?” Lance says.

No. That’s what should spill out of my mouth without hesitation. Instead, I remain quiet. Every day I sit and watch him it gets harder not to imagine seeing him again.

Lance starts to say something, but his voice cuts off when we both spot a car rolling up to the compound. I grab for my binoculars and smash them against my face eagerly. Colors are pretty nonexistent using these things, but I saw before I brought them up that the sedan was black. Now that I can see more clearly, it’s obvious the body style of the car is identical to the one I saw at Braden’s. That, in itself, doesn’t mean much since it’s the same kind of car every prick who thinks he needs to be chauffeured around town uses, but it makes me hopeful.

My hope is rewarded.

“That’s him,” I hiss at Lance when he finally steps out of the car. I tap my Perception and watch the thick shadow of Vision tapping waver about his body. His light colored, oiled hair stands out in the field of night-vision shades of green. His fluid movements boast of pretty hefty Speed and Strength talents as well. Great. Even from here I think I can feel his evilness. It’s oozing up the hill to contaminate us. I watch him closely, flinching when his dead expression flits up at the hill we’re sitting on. We’re too far away for him to actually see us, though, and his gaze turns back to the compound.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night,” Lance whispers. “What is this guy doing here? What couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Why isn’t he going inside?” I watch him as he stares out into the high desert, waiting. What could he be waiting for out there? Somehow I doubt he’s a big owl enthusiast.

Eleven motionless minutes pass with Drake simply standing by his car and staring out at the sagebrush and tumbleweeds. Lance and I both tense when his right hand darts up to his ear where an ear piece must be hidden. He mouths something I can’t decipher and moves a few steps away from the car. Seconds later, the sound of someone struggling through the scrub brush tumbles toward us. I blink in surprise when a pair of gigantic thugs burst into the open, lugging a thrashing Guardian behind them. They yank him up to a standing position before Drake.

The captive’s head lolls to the side. I gasp and grab Lance’s arm. Despite the dirt and fresh bruises he’s sporting, I recognize him. “Lance, that’s the guy I stabbed down in the containment cells when we were rescuing Hope. What was he doing out in the desert?”

“It looks like he was running away,” Lance says.

Drake walks over to the young Guardian, places his hands on either side of his face, and whips it to the side. I swear I can hear the snap of his vertebrae even from here. The Guardian’s body slumps in the thugs’ hands, but they hold onto him impassively. Drake’s own expression never changes once. Cold, malicious energy builds around him as he dusts his hands on his jacket and turns away. Not a single word is spoken. He climbs back into his car and is driven away as the thugs haul the poor Guardian back inside to be disposed of.

I can’t believe the absolute inhumanity of what I just witnessed. I feel cold as we scramble to our own car so we can follow him. My hands are shaking wildly as I snap my seatbelt into place. That man just murdered one of his own, one of his brothers. He didn’t even bat an eye as he ended that poor guy’s life. If I didn’t already, I’m beginning to understand why Blackwood and Braden are so terrified of him. Who is this Drake person, and what on earth is he planning to do to me?

Chapter 14

No Second Chances

I should have been so exhausted by the time I finally got home last night that sleep shouldn’t have been a problem. I’ve never been a very good sleeper, but last night was even worse than usual. I kept seeing Drake snap that guy’s neck over and over again, and then coming after Braden to do the same. He didn’t stop Blackwood from hurting Braden because of any moral objections, just the number of spectators. Somewhere in the back of my mind there was worry for my own life, and everyone else’s as well, but in my nightmares all I could see was Drake’s slender fingers closing around Braden’s throat.

Trying to shake off the nightmares is impossible. I have never wanted to ditch school so badly in my life. Unfortunately, that’s not an option today. Or any other day. Why did I get myself un-expelled again? I sit at my empty kitchen table sipping at a glass of orange juice with my eyes closed. If I open them, my head will start pounding. First day back to school and I look so awful everyone is going to have a whole new reason to want to stay away from me. What I wouldn’t give for one night with Braden. My cheeks color at the thought. Guilt is quick on the heels of my blush. For the sleep, I tell myself sternly. The only time I’ve ever gotten a decent amount of sleep is when I fell asleep on Braden’s lap. He probably would have made me breakfast this morning, I think, instantly regretting the thought. I have got to get control of my head today!

Thinking of that unexplained peace I felt waking next to Braden brings a swell of sadness to my heart. I think I have stolen that as well. I didn’t feel anything of the link of being Spiritual Companions the two brief times I’ve seen him since I took his talents. The thick band of beaded bracelets carefully concealing my left wrist shifts as I lift my glass, worsening my depression. I’ve never flaunted my diktats, but I haven’t had to hide them in a while, either. I can’t let anyone see the new second row, or literally the entire world will be calling for my death. No one in their right mind will stand for me stealing other people’s talents. My head slips down to the table and stays there until Lance knocks on my front door.

Prepared for my less than stellar mood by the connection he shares with me, he completely ignores my sourness and thrusts a tiny wrapped box into my hand. His grin doesn’t cheer me up. It actually kind of makes me want to smack him. But I don’t.

“Lance, you really didn’t need to get me anything,” I say.

“Whatever. Just open it.”

I sigh and start tearing the paper away. The sight of the dark blue jeweler’s box makes me glare at him. He laughs and gestures for me to open it. I lift the lid and stare at its contents in confused amazement. The silver chain holds a single pendant, a beautiful double layered engraving on a circular background, but I have no idea what I’m looking at.

“What is it?” I ask.

Lance lifts the necklace out of the box and holds it up to the light. “It’s a replacement for the one I gave you last year.”

My birthday last year, that was the day this whole catastrophe I call my life really imploded in on itself. Lance had given me a necklace with the sign for Naturalism on it since I had been pretending that was my only talent at the time. A momentary pinch of guilt sticks me as I remember tearing the necklace off after my Inquest and throwing it away. At the time, it was totally called for. If this is a replacement for that, then …

“Is this the symbol for the Destroyer? I didn’t even know there was one.” Classes have symbols just like talents do, but I guess I never thought about anyone bothering to create one for the person they thought was going to end all life.

“It took a while to find the symbol, and even longer to find someone willing to make it for me, but it all worked out in the end,” Lance says. He holds the necklace up and points at the different markings as he explains. “The symbol has two layers. The symbol underneath, the spiral, represents renewal. This circle with the spears coming out of it represents death and destruction. There are two layers, because these two ideals have to work together in opposition or everything falls apart. If there’s only renewal and growth, the world would get out of hand. Destruction breaks down the old and corrupted to make room for the new, pure parts of life. They have to be balanced. It’s both sides of what you’re supposed to do. It’s called the Paradigm, the ideal world.”

I run my fingertip over the individual elements, amazed and even comforted by the interpretation. It’s incredible. I never would have expected something connected to me to contain such beauty and insight.

“It’s a really old symbol,” Lance says, “designed centuries ago before all these lies about the Guardians and Ciphers really started getting out of control. I guess at some point people knew your real purpose, Libby. They understood who you were meant to be, and … and I don’t think they were afraid of you. I don’t think anyone would have made something so beautiful for the Destroyer if they really believed you were evil. I think they might have loved you for what you were going to do.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, hope trickling into my heart. “Maybe they will again. Someday.”

Lance smiles and asks, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks. It’s really beautiful,” I say as I fasten it around my neck proudly.

“Cool. Well, we better get going.” He starts toward the car, walking quickly. I move to follow him, but slow when I see Hope getting out of the front seat and jumping into the back. I glance over at Lance who shrugs with a dopey looking smile. “You don’t mind do you? Her dad had to go back home to get some stuff worked out so they can move down here permanently and her mom was worried about her going anywhere alone.”

“It’s fine,” I say. I shake my head and laugh. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.

I climb into the car and am surprised when Hope offers me an almost pleasant sounding happy birthday. Before I can thank her, she shoves a notebook at me and says, “Here’s all the stuff I’ve decoded from my grandpa’s notes. Most of it is stuff you already know, but I did find a few interesting things.”

“Oh,” I say, “thanks. I didn’t even know you were helping Casey with this.”

“My grandpa taught me the key years ago. He thought I might need to know it one day, and I guess he was right,” she says, the words getting more and more bitter as she spits them out.

Lance and I glance at each other, but don’t comment on her anger.

“So, uh, what did you find that was interesting?” I ask. I’ve been getting bits and pieces of information from Casey over the last two weeks, but she was having a hard time getting through the notes. I flip through the notebook to find half of it filled. I can’t believe Hope was able to translate so much so quickly.

“Mostly it’s just stuff he found while he was doing research about you, stories about the Guardians lying and hiding the truth about who you were and what you were meant to do. He found stories and writings talking about how you used to be hailed as a savior of sorts instead of this horrible thing everyone was terrified of,” Hope says. She goes on to tell me a few of them. They’re actually pretty interesting and she keeps both Lance and I entertained all the way to school. And through first hour, and in between classes, and up until our calculus teacher finally lets us out.

In the hallway, she grabs me before I can take off for my next class. “Oh, and there’s this whole poem he found that talks about how the Destroyer would come when the world was so corrupt and evil that it was tearing itself apart. The Destroyer wasn’t going to kill everyone like we hear now, just the bad people. Then she would rebuild the world in a better way. It was actually a pretty neat story. It’s in the notebook if you want to read it.”

“Definitely. I’d love to.”

I’d be thrilled to see something written about me that wasn’t condemning and hateful. I’m not sure I even know how to react to something like that. I cannot image the whole world believing in me, waiting and hoping for me to come with anything other than terror. Low, simmering anger at the Guardians for twisting my destiny into something to be feared rumbles in the pit of my stomach. Without their lies, I never would have had to hide who I am. My dad wouldn’t be dead. Maybe my mom would maybe even like me. I wouldn’t have spent years fearing my own death. One year from now wouldn’t be a deadline, it would be a moment to look forward to and celebrate the full release of my talents. My heart groans, the grief of everything I’ve lost becoming too heavy for a moment. They stole so much from me.

“Another thing I found in his notes was kind of weird. I don’t really know what it means, but it was this word that popped up several times. I think it was a name, or title. My grandpa said he only found the mention of it in a few really old writings, but he thought it was important,” Hope says, not paying any attention to the staring and cringing and insults from a few of the other students as they walk past us in the hallway. I wish I was that good at being single-minded. I try not to glare back at them and pay attention to what Hope is still saying. Yikes, she’s talkative when she gets going. Lance doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are neatly fastened to her.

“It sounded like this person was meant to help you destroy the evil in the world,” Hope says. “Like I said, only a few really old writings mentioned it, but it sounded like without this person you wouldn’t be able to do what you needed to do and you would fail. Not very encouraging, I guess, but it was only mentioned rarely.”

“What was the word?” I ask.

“Socius.”

“What does that mean?” Lance asks.

“Well, I couldn’t figure out what it meant for forever. I found it in his notes last week, but I had no idea how to interpret it. I thought my grandpa would explain it somewhere in his notes, but he never did. I guess he already knew what it meant so he didn’t bother writing it down for us,” Hope says. “Anyway, it wasn’t until I showed it to Casey that we figured it out. I guess she’s taking Latin, for some reason. She knew what it meant right away.”

Not that I’m not glad Hope is talking to me like a regular person rather than yelling and threatening everyone around her—Lance must be a very good influence on her—but this explanation could have been a fraction as long as it’s been. The bell’s about to ring, and I really can’t afford to be late to any of my classes. “What did the word mean?” I ask a little impatiently.

“Companion.”

My eyes double in size and my lungs completely fail me. My fingers snap to Braden’s braided white strand hidden among my beaded bracelets. Lance’s knuckles have turned white on the strap of his backpack, as well. Neither of us looks at each other. We don’t need to. I have talked to him about how I feel nothing of the Companion connection between me and Braden anymore. I stole that part of him when I stole his talents. It’s gone, forever.

“It could mean someone else,” Lance says quietly.

“You know it doesn’t.”

There is only one Spiritual Companion for each person. No do-overs, no sorry I accidentally broke mine, no second chances. My one perfect power compliment is ruined.

Maybe whoever wrote that word had no idea what they were talking about. Maybe it’s a mistranslation. Who’s to say it isn’t just a made up tale to make it more interesting when they told it to their kids at night? History is plagued by myth and legend.

I want to argue that this one word only found in the oldest stories of my destiny can’t possibly be right. I want to, but I know the older it is, the more likely the Guardians never tampered with it. They were always the people’s protectors and armies, but only a few hundred years ago did the Guardians become this all-encompassing source of law and right and wrong. They have contaminated my heritage over the centuries they’ve had control of the information. How many of their leaders would think to try and erase some obscure Latin story only a select few have ever seen?

No matter how hard I try to tell myself this isn’t right, the deep sense of truth pouring into my soul won’t let me really believe it. Through the rest of my classes, it’s all I can think about. Abuses from students like Angus and his crew don’t faze me. Jen slinking around behind me in the hallways trying to catch me doing or saying something that will get me in trouble, or reveal something newsworthy only slightly irritates me.

The only thing that does manage to slip into my thoughts, even if only vaguely, is the way Milo is acting today. Outwardly, he is acting completely normal, sitting next to me in Perception, silently walking with me to my next class. He never once speaks to me, and I deicide it’s better not to push him. We go silently through our day together. There are so many other things on my mind at the moment. Hope’s words fill my mind completely, making me more frightened than I have been in a long time. And that’s saying something.

I was trying to save Braden’s life. More than my own life, I wanted to protect his. I did it. I thought of the one way I could break his Oath and stop him from killing me. But I may have doomed the entire world at the same time. My fingers slide up to the Destroyer pendant around my neck and grip it tightly. I have to fix this. I have to find a way to make Braden my Companion again. If I want to save the world, I have to save him first.

It’s impossible. That’s what everyone will say. I know they’re right. But I’ve done impossible things before.

Chapter15

In My Pocket

As I stare out my car window at Braden’s townhome, all I can think about is my promise to Milo. It hurt when he walked away from me yesterday. His accusations battle against Lance’s assurances that leaving Braden to fend for himself would be callous. But it’s not even just about Braden’s safety anymore. It’s about the fate of the entire world. I tried to find Milo after school and tell him about the Socius, but our fight yesterday is still too fresh. I made it out to the parking lot only to see his break lights tearing away from school. Calling him got me nowhere.

I asked Lance and Hope to keep it to themselves until I have the chance to talk to Milo about it. My plan had been to discuss it with him before I came to Braden’s, but I feel like I’m running out of time. If I don’t convince Braden to let me help him, now, Drake may come back first and finish what Blackwood started. I can’t risk that, even if it means inciting even more of Milo’s anger at me.

I won’t let Braden die, but I have to figure out a way to give him back his talents if I have any hope of surviving. For that, I’m willing to break my promise to Milo. Before, I justified watching his house. I told myself I wasn’t really breaking my promise because I wasn’t talking to Braden, or even seeing him. I was quietly protecting him, that was all. As I push the door to my Bronco open, I know that this time I cannot tell myself I’m doing anything other than exactly what Milo asked me not to do.

The guilt walking across the street inspires in me makes my hands shake, but I don’t turn back. The neighborhood is silent as I step onto the sidewalk in front of Braden’s townhome. Each step I take is a plea for me to reconsider. I am focused on my goals, but part of me is terrified that the moment I see Braden my resolve will crumble. When I reach the front door, my hand rises automatically, but I don’t knock. I think.

If I knock on the door, I’m risking my relationship with Milo. Am I willing to do that? I know the Socius story is true. I have little evidence to substantiate that belief, but my instincts have convinced me without a doubt. If I don’t keep Braden from getting killed and figure out how to give him back his talents, I will fail. The Guardians’ plans will ruin the world. Whatever sick creations they are making out of Ciphers will destroy the world, no help from me needed. This is something else I am convinced of. Am I willing to risk Milo hating me forever to stop the Guardians? My heart aches, threatens to break completely, but I know the answer to this question. Yes.

My knock seems to echo through the silence.

It is answered with the same.

I knock again with the same result, knocking harder after that. Part of me says I should walk away, but I have decided. I won’t leave now. I give up on knocking, but I’m not completely convinced he isn’t home. Given Blackwood and Drake showing up at his house the other day, I’d keep the alarm on twenty-four-seven and not answer the door, too. I walk around to the driveway and lift up on my toes to peek into his garage. Empty. He really is gone.

I stand in the driveway staring at nothing for several long minutes, thinking. I’m sure Braden knows I’ve been watching his house. If he wanted to see me, he would have tried by now. Fear that he will see my Bronco and refuse to answer the door even when he does get home forces me to reconsider my plan. If I’m already inside when he gets back, it will be harder for him not to at least give me a chance to talk.

I glance around the street looking for more of the curious neighbors that saved Braden’s life last time. I appreciated their attentiveness then, but they might cause me some serious legal troubles if they’re around right now. I carefully check the windows of each house and scan the barren sidewalks a few more times before turning away from the garage. The nice thing about Braden’s neighborhood is that it’s mainly families with older kids and parents who work. At four in the afternoon, it’s pretty dead.

A few quick steps bring me back to my Bronco parked a little ways down from his house. Several minutes later, I find what I need and head back to the front door. I select the half-diamond pick from the set Braden gave me and get to work. It takes me longer than it would have taken him, but I’m still done in less than a minute. My lock picks go back into my pocket and I slip inside the house. Closing and relocking the door behind me, I hurry over to the alarm panel. I quickly enter the code Braden gave me and reset it. I stand in the entry, frozen by the fact that I just broke in to Braden’s house.

The day we went to pick up Dean from Texas, Braden broke into Milo’s car to get my bag out of it. He’d already broken into my motel room a few months earlier. After he admitted to having a juvenile record for stealing cars and joyriding in them, I eventually asked him to teach me how to pick locks just in case I ever needed the skill. Knowing how often I end up in precarious situations, he agreed. I picked it up pretty fast, though he is much better than I am. He never did teach me how to break into a car, though. That hardly matters right now. What matters is that I am standing in Braden’s house. How he will react to that, I have no idea. How Milo will react, that I’m sure I can guess, but I step further into the house to wait.

An hour later, I begin to worry, my already fried nerves making me jump at every sound. I try to distract myself by looking for something to calm my rumbling stomach. It doesn’t work because the idea of eating makes me nauseous, and because Braden has almost no food in his house. I abandon the idea. He’ll be home soon, I tell myself. He’s never not come back at night. I just have to wait him out, and then I’ll get my chance to convince him to listen to me. That scares me almost as much as the idea of seeing Braden again. I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince him to come back to our group after what I did to him.

I might have worried about Blackwood or Drake having grabbed him if I weren’t getting text message updates on the Guardians’ activities every few hours. Blackwood is still at the compound, and even though no one has seen Drake today, I can’t imagine Blackwood wouldn’t be with him if he had Braden. What I really start to worry about is that Braden may have decided to go out of town. If I have to come back again tomorrow night, I will, but eventually the neighbors are going to notice me breaking into his house. I silently pray he’ll come back tonight as I sit down to wait. Right away, I know sitting is a mistake. I’m so tired after spending most of last night trying and failing to follow Drake. I can’t make my tired body get back up, so I turn on the TV to try and help me stay awake. The sounds of a pointless sitcom wash against me soothingly as the sun starts to drop behind the houses.

***

The sound of a gun being cocked snaps me out of a fitful sleep. My eyes blink open to darkness and flashing lights. The TV is still on, screwing up my ability to focus my eyes. I can’t see anything, but I can hear breathing—nervous, twitchy breathing.

Oh no. I don’t move, or breathe, or say a word. I can’t believe I fell asleep and the sound of the garage door motor didn’t wake me up. Braden is going to shoot me if I make a sound. This was a really bad idea.

Think, think! There has to be a way to let him know it’s me without freaking him out and making him shoot me. Suddenly, the TV winks out. My heart rate skyrockets. It’s a tactical move to put Braden in control. Not only is he more familiar with the layout of this room, he knows where he’s at right now, and a general idea of where I’m at, but if I were to get up and try to run I would likely stumble over something, giving him the chance to attack me. Plus, I really can’t see anything now. My eyes are still trying to adjust, while he probably closed his own eyes before the TV turned off to let them acclimate faster. I have to do something quick, or this is going to end very badly for me.

The muzzle of a gun presses against my temple and I realize it’s too late.

My mouth opens to stop him from shooting me when he moves and trips over something. I see this as my chance. “Braden, please don’t shoot,” I beg, hoping his distraction from tripping will keep him from reacting on impulse.

“Libby?” Braden gasps.

The lights flip on, and I jump up from the couch and hold my hands out to keep him from doing something stupid. He just stares at me with his gun still pointed at my chest. “It’s me, Braden. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m sorry.”

His eyes drop to his gun. He looks surprised to find himself pointing it at me and lowers it. When he looks back up at me, he is just as angry as I feared he would be.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” he shouts. “I thought someone had broken in. I was about to shoot you! What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, Braden. I was waiting for you to get home. I thought you’d be back hours ago. I guess I fell asleep waiting. I would have turned on some lights, or met you outside or something if I hadn’t fallen asleep. I’m really sorry,” I say in a single breath.

He shakes off his surprise, but I didn’t actually answer his question. “Why are you here?”

“I had to talk to you. You can’t stay here by yourself anymore. It isn’t safe,” I say. “Drake is going to come back, and …”

He interrupts me before I can tell him about the Socius.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” His words are sharp and quick, to match the change in his expression. “And you had no right to break into my house. This is my home,” he snaps, “not some place for you to hone your lock picking skills.”

His outrage that I used what he taught me to get to him flares around me, igniting my own frustration and anger. “And what, you had the right to break into my motel room? How is this any different? You thought it was funny! And you did it for a lot less of a reason than I did. You just wanted to corner me into telling you what happened with Casey. I have a real reason, Braden. You’ve shut yourself up here like a hermit, but that doesn’t mean everything you were fighting a few weeks ago has disappeared. I’ve still been neck-deep in it all! You left me to deal everything it without you. But I need you,” I say. “There’s this story we found. It talked about this person who was supposed to help me, and …”

“And what? You think I’m that person?” His hand slashes in front of his chest. “Well, I’m not. I’m not anything anymore. I can’t help you or anyone else. Everything is different now.”

“No, it isn’t. I still need you, more than ever,” I say. “If you’ll just let me explain.”

Moving further away from me, he drops his gun on the end table and shoves up the sleeve of his right arm. “You took away everything that would have let me help you,” he says harshly.

My body shivers in the face of his attack. He doesn’t understand how true his words are like I do, but the pain he feels from losing everything he was is heavy enough. “I couldn’t kill you. I couldn’t let anyone else kill you, either, even if it meant leaving you talentless.”

“You think this was a better choice?” he demands. “What’s the point of being alive when I’m completely useless? What good am I to anyone anymore? You made the choice for me. I didn’t ask for this!”

“I’m sorry,” I snap, “but I didn’t exactly have time to stop and ask your opinion on the matter! You were trying to crush my windpipe at the time, if I remember correctly! It was either kill you, or take your talents and free you of your promises and Oath. I thought I was making the right choice!”

His body explodes into motion, flinging his hands out from his body and spinning away from me to let out a growl of frustration so deep it rumbles in my bones. He turns back around and glares at me. “Maybe you were wrong! What am I supposed to do now?”

“Stop acting like a baby, for one!” I yell at him.

My tone and words momentarily shock him. “What?”

“You heard me,” I snap. “Stop acting like a whiny brat and figure it out. Milo survived without talents. He wasn't the first Cipher to ever run from the Guardians, either. You’re not helpless! Sure, you don’t have the Speed and Strength you used to, but I saw you fend off Blackwood. You’re still strong. You’re still capable of doing whatever you want to do.”

“No, I’m not. You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve never had to live a single day without talents. You can’t possibly understand this.”

My frustration reaches its limit. “Would you rather be dead?” I yell at him.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. I know he won’t admit that. Braden is a fighter. He may be taking a break to throw himself a pity party at the moment, but it would drive him insane to just give up and admit defeat. He wants to keep fighting. He just doesn’t know how anymore. My heart breaks to see him so lost, so angry at me for taking everything away. I falter, wanting so badly to ease his anguish.

“I can’t help you, no matter what you say, and I don’t think you believe that, either,” Braden says quietly, “so why are you really here?”

He’s in danger. My destiny is in danger. Maybe the whole world is in danger. He’s the only one that can help me. A million reasons for being here all fade away in the face of his pain. All but one. It slips out before I can stop myself.

“I miss you,” I say. My hand snaps over my mouth and I close my eyes. I shouldn’t have said that. My head shakes back and forth. I never should have come here! Thoughts of Milo assault me for my infidelity. I knew coming here would break me … but I came anyway.

Pain wrinkles Braden’s expression at my words. His fingers tighten into fists as he looks away from me. I don’t know what that means, but suddenly I begin to understand my own heart and mind. The realization makes my hands, my body tremble. I didn’t come here because Braden may be the only one who can stop Howe from winning and ending my life. I didn’t come because he is in danger and my conscience will never forgive me if I let him die. Braden’s pain and anger wash over me. His spirit brushes mine. His presence wraps around me. Everything becomes so overwhelming in this one moment of purest truth.

I came here tonight because I can’t live without him.

Braden stares at me, unmoving as my eyes fill with tears. I love Milo, but in this moment of choice, I know I can never go back to him. I don’t want to lose his love, his friendship. The idea of hurting him after he has given me so much makes me sick, but I can’t stay with him knowing he would only ever be my second choice. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than me. The quiet pain of losing threatens to spill over as tears, but I hold it close and let it singe me. The wounds it leaves will stay with me forever, but I accept the scars along with my choice.

I look up at Braden, pleading for a response to my admission, desperate for him to tell me I haven’t lost both of the men I love. His stony face is impossible to bear. “Say something,” I beg him.

Pain drips off of him like tears. His arms fold across his chest as his silence settles over me.

I can’t hold my emotions in any longer. My chest heaves as a devastated sob bursts out of me. Braden flinches in surprise, but he stays where he is. My knees buckle and I fall back to the couch. When my head drops, my hair falls forward and attempts to hide my misery. I have finally given in to what my heart wanted from the moment we met, but I resisted too long.

I break under the truth of it.

Through my pain, I ask, “Is fighting the Guardians really the only reason you can think of to make you come back to me?”

I look back up at him and wish my own raging emotions weren’t completely messing up my ability to sense his now. His shocked expression gives away little. He promised. I push myself back up from the couch and face him. He promised he loved me. Did that really break, too, when I took his talents?

“I know we don’t have that intense connection of being Companions anymore, but I thought … I didn’t think you would forget me that easily. I thought what you said and felt was real,” I say quietly.

This is the punishment for my weakness. I don’t deserve the happiness Braden could bring me.

“I can’t be with you anymore,” Braden says with a stiff expression. Pain bunches his hands into fists, and I can see the corner of his mouth twitching very slightly. My tears slow and my eyes turn searching, hoping, praying that I am wrong. It couldn’t have been a lie.

“You don’t love me anymore?” I ask, begging for the truth. I have to know. My first two fingers press against his wrist, the secret reminder he used to give me of his promised love.

“No … I can’t, not anymore.”

My hands press against his chest, making his body tighten even more. I let them slide up his shoulders, neck, landing on his face and forcing him to really look at me. Now I don’t need my talents. I’m sure I can see the hidden need pulsing inside of him.

It had to be real. Please, let it be real.

I lift up on my toes and bring my mouth close to his, and say, “I don’t believe you.”

My lips touch his … and nothing. He stays stiff and unmoving in my grip. Panic that this was all a fantasy crushes me. I falter and fall back on my heels. He turns away and refuses to look at me. Our contact broken, all of the pain and heartache and longing of the past two weeks swallows me in its tidal wave of agony. I can’t unmake my choice. I will tell Milo I came here tonight. I will tell him I can’t be with him anymore. I chose Braden. I gave him my heart, but he doesn’t want it anymore. I know I’m crying again, but I can’t feel the tears. This was a mistake. A big, terrible mistake.

I turn and make for the door. My hand fumbles for the doorknob. I hesitate, thinking maybe I can change Braden’s mind, make him reconsider. The idea bursts as another sob escapes my lips. I can’t force him to take me. I won’t let myself try. I can’t bear staying here knowing he doesn’t want me and maybe never did. I finally get the door open and bolt through it to my car. I’m twisting the key in the ignition as I try to pull the door closed. Something catches my arm. Desperation to get away makes me pull against the door, but I am yanked out of the car before I can barricade myself inside. I whip around and find myself faced with a tortured Braden.

“Libby, wait,” he begs.

I stumble in confusion, and he grabs me, pulling me into a kiss that erases every other thought in my head. For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t believe he didn’t let me go, but as soon as my disbelief fades, I press against him even closer and revel in the taste of his lips. Lightning scatters over my skin and half convinces me I haven’t lost my Companion after all. That fantasy evaporates as we finally part, but the love I thought I saw in Braden doesn’t. He pulls me into his arms and holds me like he never plans on letting me go again. In his arms now, I truly hope he doesn’t.

“Libby, please don’t go. Wait. I’m sorry,” Braden whispers. He shakes his head and squeezes my arms painfully. “I should let you leave. You’re better off without me. I really can’t offer you anything anymore, but … I can’t let you go. I thought I could, but I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

Joy I can’t even begin to describe runs rampant through my body. I have lost so much in my life, but faced with losing Braden’s love, I felt more agony than I have at any other time. I have starved myself of him for weeks in order to salvage what I broke with Milo. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to live without him.

“I can’t let you go, either,” I say. Swallowing any other doubts, I say what I have wanted to say for months. “I love you, Braden.”

His body shudders against mine. I don’t resist when he crushes me in his arms. “Do you really? After everything that’s happened?”

“Yes.”

I can feel his relief as he kisses my forehead. There’s still some doubt in his mind that I don’t resent him at least a little for attacking me. I knew it was never his choice. Maybe the fact that I eventually forgave Lance for doing the same thing should make it easier to believe, but the uncertainty is still there. I’ll convince him. I have no doubt about that, at least.

Gently, Braden pushes me back and kisses me again. I’m slow to open my eyes when he pulls back. I can feel him moving to my ear. His breath tickles as he whispers, “I love you, too. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Braden. I could hardly stand being away from you.”

He kisses me again and leaves his forehead pressed against mine. “Today was worse than any other for me. Knowing it was your birthday … but not being able to see you was torture. You’ve been the only thing I could think about all day.”

“You remembered my birthday?” I ask.

“Why do you think I was out so late?” he says. “I spent all day hiking in the Bosque trying to keep myself from going to see you.”

“Why? Did you really think I wouldn’t want to see you? I’ve been sitting outside your house for weeks. I wanted to come forever ago, but I … I promised Milo I wouldn’t. I didn’t stay away because I didn’t want to see you.”

My insides suddenly twist and churn as my decision finally begins to sink in. It’s not just my broken promise to Milo that sickens me, it’s knowing that I will never be his again. Braden’s reaction is no less severe. His hands freeze in their pattern of stroking up and down my back at the mention of that name.

“Milo,” he says slowly. “I can’t do that anymore. Libby, I love you, but after being away from you for so long and nearly losing my mind, I can’t be someone in your background. You’re almost like an addiction to me. I can’t just have little moments and stolen glimpses. I have to have all of you every second of the day, or … or I have to make myself let you go. It will only hurt us both.” Braden’s eyes close, his breathing lurching and distressed. “I can’t … there’s no way …”

I press my hands against Braden’s face, running my fingers over his eyes, drawing him closer to me. Gently, I kiss his lips. I kiss his eyes. I hold him with my love until he looks at me. “Braden, I would never ask you to go back to being my secret. If you really want me, no connection confusing things, then I will be yours. All of me, every second of the day.”

Happiness simmers over Braden’s body, but he asks, “Are you sure? I didn’t come to you because I thought you didn’t want me around anymore. At first, I was just scared and angry after you stopped me, but then I realized I couldn’t feel you like I used to. With my talents gone, we weren’t Companions anymore. You spent so much time trying to push me away … I thought that once you realized the link between us was gone you’d be glad to be rid of me. I knew I wasn’t your first choice.”

I can barely speak, the ache in my heart is so consuming, but I can’t bear letting him think that one second longer. “I never stopped wanting you. I pushed you away before because I wanted you so much even though I knew I shouldn’t.”

“What about Milo?”

“I love Milo,” I say quietly, accepting the etching pain those words cause now, “but I knew the moment I said I missed you that I had made my choice. It will hurt him to know I can’t be with him anymore—it hurts me, too—but I can’t go back to him now.”

An ache that begins in my chest slowly spreads through my limbs. I will never feel his arms around me again—never smile when his lips touch mine. The smell of his cologne will only bring tears to my eyes when I catch its scent from now on. I look up at Braden, a tear slipping down my cheek no matter how hard I try to contain it.

“It hurts so much to lose Milo,” I admit, “but just now, when I thought you didn’t love me and never had, I have never been so close to breaking. That pain was so much worse than anything else, worse than the last couple weeks spending every day with the fear that Milo might change his mind and leave me. I’ve never felt anything so agonizing before tonight. I can’t lose you, Braden. I would lose my hope, my happiness without you in my life. I won’t ever let go of you again.”

He tries to keep the smile off his face and the tears from his eyes. Comfort for my sorrow and compassion for what I am feeling surround me. I know he mirrors at least some of what I feel for the hurt we have caused Milo. He wants me and won’t let me go, but he understands loss and pain very well. He holds me until my hurts mellow under the caress of his love.

Slowly, he pulls back and kisses me softly. The pain is still there, but I know I have made the right choice by the peace that wraps itself around me. The happiness I feel isn’t the bubbly kind that evaporates so quickly, but the soul-deep brand that becomes a part of you forever. I want to gather it up and put it in my pocket for what I know is coming in the days ahead. I slide my hand up to cover Braden’s where it’s resting against my cheek. My two rows of diktats press up against his bare skin, refocusing my thoughts. We both stare at them.

“I’m going to find a way to give them back,” I tell him.

He sighs. “Libby, it’s okay. I wasn’t really mad at you. I was angry at how everything had turned out. As long as I know I have you, I can deal with having no talents. You’re all that matters to me.”

“I’m going to find a way, Braden.”

Pure determination makes my words hard and forceful. Braden’s head tilts to one side in question. “Why?”

“Because I love you, and I want to,” I say honestly, “but also, because I have to.”

Chapter 16

Slow Caress

Explaining everything Braden has missed over the last couple of weeks takes forever. Neither of us really pays attention to the time. Now that I have Braden, I never want to let go of him, but a touch or kiss from him reminds me too often that I will never have that again with Milo. I try to hold off the anguish I know is waiting for me tomorrow long enough to get through my explanation. It’s late, after midnight, before I finally manage to tell him everything. Only when I get to what Hope revealed this morning does Braden begin to understand what I was trying to tell him earlier.

“Libby, you don’t really think this Socius thing is talking about me, do you?” Braden asks. “I mean, it must be a mistake. I’ve never heard of you needing someone to help you destroy the world.”

“I’m not supposed to destroy the world. That’s just another Guardian lie. They’ve twisted everything about me, because they knew I was going to bring them down. This stuff about the Socius helping me is old, older than they thought to look, I guess.” He’s looking down at his wrist. I pull his chin up to face me. “And you’re wrong about me not needing help. You've already proved to me that I can’t do this without you.”

He turns his head and kisses the palm of my hand as he smiles. “I don’t think this has anything to do with you falling in love with me, Libby.”

The way his lips tickle my skin makes me smile. “That’s not what I mean, even if it is true.”

“Then what?”

“I’m talking about you helping me free the Ciphers,” I say. “I never could have freed them all without you there. You gave me the extra strength and power I needed to manage performing an Inquest on that many people. Taking down the Guardians is going to be ten times more difficult. I don’t think I can do it without you.”

I watch as his mouth turns down in a thoughtful frown. He knows I’m right. When I first felt the connection to Braden and saw the spiritual link that told everyone what we were, I felt like I had been cursed. I didn’t want it. The sight of the link was beautiful and enchanting, but it scared me to death. The fact that Braden could give me his Oath and give me that boost to my power constantly, even stronger than without it, seemed like an awful twist of fate at the time. Now, I’m beginning to think that his being a Guardian capable of giving me such an Oath in the first place, something not every set of Spiritual Companions can have, is not only a wonderful thing I crave, but no accident.

I don’t really believe in Fate in the sense of your life being predetermined and you can’t do anything to change it, but I have come to believe that a person might be set up to do something amazing if they only recognize the possibility and grab onto it. The possibilities have to be realistic, though. Fate, God, a magic mushroom, whoever sets these things up wouldn’t expect me to destroy something like the Guardians without giving me the tools I need to actually accomplish it. I cringe at the idea of Braden being a tool, but I know he wants to stop them as much as I do.

“What are we going to do, then?” Braden asks.

“I don’t know, but I promise I’ll find a way to give you back your talents.” There has to be something I can do.

“It’s too bad Mr. Walters is gone,” Braden says sadly. “He could find out things nobody else could. Maybe there’s something in his notes.”

“Maybe,” I say, but I don’t have a lot of hope. He was the one who gave me the idea to take Braden’s talents in the first place, but I know that isn’t why he mentioned the betrayal. He couldn’t have known what I would do. He told me to forget Braden. There is some other reason he reminded me of what my dad tried to do to me. I have no idea what that might be, though. Either way, at the rate Hope is blowing through his notes, we’ll know soon enough.

I start to suggest that maybe we should go over the transcribed notes I already have together, to see if there is something Braden will catch that we didn’t, when my empty stomach grumbles. It’s loud enough that Braden hears it and laughs.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“A little bit. Sorry. I came here right after school, and you have no food in your house … still,” I say. “Don’t you ever go grocery shopping?”

He smiles. “Hasn’t been my top priority lately. You want me to go get you something? It’s late, but I’m sure there’s still a few places open. Or, I’m more than happy to take you somewhere.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and pulling closer to him, “I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I just want to stay with you, nobody else. I don’t want to leave, Braden.”

I know there’s no longer any real threat of the Guardians seeing us together like their used to be, but I’m not concerned about their prying eyes. If we were to run into Milo by some freak chance and he saw us together before I have the chance to talk to him, I couldn’t bear it. It will be horrible enough telling him what happened tonight and that I have made a decision I won’t go back on. I would never put him through finding out from anyone but me.

I made this choice, and I will have to accept the consequences for it. And I know that when I tell Milo, the ache I feel now will get so much worse. I will be forced to accept that the boy who befriended me when no one else would will never look at me with any kind of love again. I shiver as the depth of my decisions sinks in more deeply.

Braden feels my dimming mood and pulls me into his arms. “You’re thinking about Milo, aren’t you?”

I nod, the impending pain feeling so very near.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks. “This is my fault, not yours. I pursued you even though I knew you were with Milo. I know it was wrong. I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve cause you and Milo. I wanted you so badly I made excuses for my choices, but I know that doesn’t make it right. You don’t have to face him tomorrow. It should be me. I deserve whatever he chooses to throw at me.”

I shake my head immediately. “No. This was my choice. There’s enough blame to bury me. I have to face him, but thank you for offering.”

This time, I’m the one kissing him. My hands pull him closer, and I can feel his heart beating faster, matching mine. A slow caress, our mouths drink in the possibilities. I never want to leave this moment, but Braden pulls back slowly. “It’s late. You should probably go home. I know you have a lot to deal with tomorrow,” he says softly.

My lips touch the curve of his neck. “I don’t want to leave.”

“You have to go, eventually.”

“No, I don’t.” I don’t want to be away from him for even a second.

“Yes,” he says firmly, “you do. You’re not staying here tonight, Libby.”

Surprised, I sit back and look at him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Two weeks ago you were the one trying to get me to let you stay, now you’re telling me I have to go home?” I’m not sure what to make of that.

“I knew you would never let me, Libby. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought you would actually say yes. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not saying you have to leave right now, but I’m not going to let you stay over.”

“But, I’m not ready to be away from you, and you want me to stay, too,” I argue.

A burst of desire makes me hopeful, but he tamps it down as soon as it surfaces. “Yes,” he admits, “but it doesn’t matter. You’re not staying. And don’t try to change my mind, or I’ll go back to avoiding you. I mean it.”

I know he can’t stay away from me any more than I can, now, but I can see him making sure we’re never alone. I cross my arms over my chest and put on some serious pout. Braden just smiles and pulls me up from the couch with him.

“Let’s go find you something to eat,” he says.

I’m starving, but eating this late is probably going to make me sick. And even though Braden does know how to cook pretty well, I don’t have a lot of confidence in what he’ll come up with. I’ve already looked through his cupboards. Having to get up off the couch makes my tired body groan. “I’d rather do something else.”

Braden glowers at me as he pulls me into the kitchen. “Libby …” he warns.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Really …?” He doesn’t believe me. He seems determined to make me something to eat as he starts searching through the fridge. I pull him back and wrap his arms around my waist.

“I don’t want to eat, Braden. I want to sleep. I’m exhausted. I haven’t gotten more than a couple of hours rest at night since you were taken.”

“All the more reason for you to go home, then,” he says, though he doesn’t seem that interested in letting go of me.

I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes. “Come with me.” The muscles of his chest bunch up automatically, and I add, “Like you did before. Everyone else is at the training house. You can take the extra bedroom. You know I can’t sleep without you, Braden.”

“That was just an effect of being Companions.”

“How do you know that? What does sleep have to with talents?” I ask. Hmm, I guess it could be the Naturalism, but I don’t bring that up. “I’m willing to test it out and see.”

“I bet,” Braden says, “but the answer is still no. And don’t try to use you being alone as an excuse, either. I was protecting you before. I can’t do that now.”

I sigh and lift my head to look at him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Braden.”

Actually, I was thinking the opposite—that he’s the one who needs my protection now—but I don’t really want to remind him of the whole “no talent” issue.

“I’m not coming.”

I smile and ask, “Can I at least borrow your car, then? It’s the next best thing to having you with me.”

“I’m surprised I rank above the car,” he says.

“Is that a yes?”

He laughs. “Uh, not even close.”

“Then will you take me for a drive?” That should be safe enough. Milo is most likely at the training house. But he may leave for some reason and spot Braden’s car. I start to reconsider my request.

Braden pulls me into his arms more tightly. “You’re just using me for my car, aren’t you?”

The glint in his eyes is encouraging and my doubts melt away. That wasn’t a no. I’m going to change his mind yet. I don’t want him out of my sight, because I feel too good when he’s around, and because I have to keep him safe. My hands slide up his arms to the back of his neck. He leans down automatically and presses his cheek against mine.

“We can drive out to the base of the Sandias. Just let me stay with you a little longer,” I say, “and then you can take me home, okay?”

“Take you home? Your car’s here.” Again, not an outright no.

“So? Lance picks me up for school. I don’t need it,” I say. “I can pick it up tomorrow. Besides, you need to come by eventually. You left some of your stuff at my house, like your toothbrush.”

“I bought a new one.”

“Your laptop and your clothes.” Minus the blue striped shirt. I’m not giving that one back.

Braden gently grabs the hair at the nape of my neck and pulls back so I have to face him. “You’re trying to trick me into going home with you.”

“I promise I won’t ask you to stay.”

He watches my expression carefully. “You promise?”

I nod and feel his resistance melt away. The fingers tangled in my hair ease their grip and smooth down to my neck. His lips follow, pressing against my skin and turning my insides to jelly. “Go get in the car,” he whispers.

Spinning in his grip slowly, I grab his hands and tow him along behind me. He only lets go to grab his keys and put me in the car. I don’t notice the supple leather seats nearly as much as the feel of Braden’s hand slipping back into mine. Warmth spreads from my fingers to the rest of my body. It reminds me of how he used to make me feel, the fiery heat that blanketed me in an instant. As intense as that feeling was, though, I actually kind of like this better. It’s real. I don’t have to question its source.

My thumb sweeps back and forth across his hand. The city lights fade away as we leave Albuquerque. Through the window, I can see the stars topping the Sandia Mountains. Their light becomes the only illumination besides the twin beams of the headlights carving their way around the base of the mountains. My body sinks into the seat a little more, the silky leather and peace of being with Braden lulling me toward sleep. I don’t let myself succumb quite yet.

I curl toward Braden and lean my head against his shoulder. The smile on my lips grows when Braden turns and drops a kiss on the top of my head. Neither of us speaks as we drive. After the emotional chaos the last two weeks has been for both of us, this quiet drive doesn’t need any words. It has been torture not being able to feel Braden’s presence. That is the one part of being Companions that I miss more than anything. The added power is wonderful, something I think I’m going to need very desperately, but having a constant knowledge that Braden is safe and alive is such a precious gift. Being able to sense his emotions and feel his life force with my talents isn’t quite the same, but it’s better than nothing.

The road curves, and the car is once again facing the city lights. I can sense the slight sadness in Braden as our little trip starts winding toward its end. I would feel the same if Braden hadn’t been right earlier tonight. Instead, I hide my thoughts in the darkness of the car and watch the city grow before us. It’s well after one in the morning when Braden merges back onto the interstate. Not right away, but soon after, I let my eyes close, slow my breathing, and let Braden think I’ve fallen asleep.

He has to shift slightly to put the car into park when he reaches my house. I actually did fall asleep on the way home, but his movement isn’t enough to truly wake me. The peace he brings me has nothing to do with being Companions, and I can’t bring myself to let go of him yet. Braden’s whisper, calling my name softly, goes unanswered. In my sleepy state, all I can do is snuggle up against him more tightly. Through my haze, I can feel his momentary indecision, and then he gets out of the car and walks around to my side. He carries me to the front door and unlocks it with the key he never gave back after helping me move in, walking through the dark house to my bedroom.

I promised I wouldn’t ask him to stay, and I won’t. Inside my house, with me in his arms, I already know he’ll stay. Whether he thinks he can protect me or not, he wants to. He has to. And I have to do the same for him. The chance that I’ll give myself away is pretty strong, so the second my body touches the bed, I tap my Naturalism and drop myself into a deep, peaceful sleep. The last thought I have is of how wonderful it feels to have Braden touch me again.

Chapter 17

On the Brink

Alarm clocks have to be the worst sounding things on the planet. My usual rush to smack it into silence is stalled by the lingering sleep. A whole night of completely undisturbed sleep, I’ve never had that before in my life. An odd thought strikes me that I shouldn’t be feeling so good right now. Braden has stayed in the house with me before, and even though having him being close by makes me feel infinitely safer, he has to be touching me for the sleep thing to work. I suddenly become aware of the extra warmth pressing up against my back and open my eyes.

His fingers are twisted around mine, his face nestling against my hair. I turn over in shock and stare at him. Jostling him with my movement wakes him, though I don’t know how he wasn’t already awake with the blaring alarm right next to his head. He’s lying on top of the blankets and still wearing his running clothes from last night. Braden blinks a few times and lets go of me to turn off the alarm.

“Good grief, Libby, where did you get that thing? I don’t think I’ve ever hear a more awful alarm in my life.”

“I’m not much of a morning person. I need something extra loud and obnoxious to wake me up,” I say offhandedly. I have more important things on my mind. I pull his face next to mine and kiss him lightly. “You stayed.” I can’t believe he stayed.

For a moment, Braden looks slightly embarrassed, and then as if remembering something, his expression turns scolding. “You broke your promise.”

“I what?”

“You asked me to stay last night,” Braden says.

“I did not. I was asleep.” I made sure I was asleep before I could let myself ask him to stay.

Braden leans in and kisses my forehead. “You talk in your sleep.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Lance kept watch over me after I got over my spiritual block and couldn’t stop shaking from the bad reaction. Milo has even stayed with me at night at few times after I broke my ankle—the memory of those nights sending a shock of pain through me. I try not to focus on Milo right now, knowing seeing him later today will be difficult enough.

Neither of them has ever told me I talk in my sleep before. Although, they are both incredibly deep sleepers. I’m unsure of how to react to that news. If it were Milo telling me this, with everything I’ve kept from him at different times, I’d be panicking. With Braden, though, I can’t think of anything I could say that would get me in trouble. He knows my secrets. He knows I’m in love with him. Worry falls away, for the most part.

“What did I say?” I ask.

“Well, after I took your shoes off and put your blankets on you I sat down by you for a few minutes to make sure you weren’t going to wake back up. I wanted to see if you really would sleep better with me around,” he says.

I have to interrupt. “Which I did.”

He ignores my I told you so and continues. “After I was sure you were going to sleep all right, I got up to …” He pauses, and the guilty edge I saw earlier slips back onto his face. “You looked so peaceful and happy for once, I couldn’t leave, just like you knew I wouldn’t be able to.”

He was going to stay in the guest bedroom. I smile when he tries to scowl at me.

“Anyway, I was about to leave when you called for me. I thought you were awake at first, but when you kept saying you were sorry again and again I realized you were still asleep. You wouldn’t stop until I laid down next to you. When you begged me not to leave, I couldn’t say no.” His expression is serious after talking about what I said, but his eyes fill with even deeper regret when he pauses. “Libby, you know I don’t blame you for taking my talents, right?”

I shrink against him a little as my doubt surfaces. “You were pretty angry last night,” I say quietly.

“I was angry, yes, but not at you, just at how things worked out. We were Companions, I loved you, I wanted to be your Guardian, and I thought all of that had been taken away. I was angry that my only choices had been killing you or living without you,” he says softly. “I couldn’t live with either option.”

I press my head against his chest as I consider what he might have done if he had managed to kill me. The idea of him killing himself over fulfilling his twisted Oath bothers me more than the idea of me actually being dead.

“I should have come to you sooner,” I say. “I was trying to give you time to heal, but I was only hurting you again.”

“Would you have been ready to see me sooner? Maybe we both needed the time.”

I sigh, thinking of how desperate I was to make Milo even consider forgiving me. I did everything he asked, except for not protecting Braden. I would have given Milo anything the last few weeks for a chance to save our relationship … except for abandoning Braden. “I think …” I swallow hard, ashamed and not ashamed at the same time to admit it. “I think seeing you again would have ended up the same no matter how soon I came or how long I waited.”

Hurting Milo like I have and losing will haunt me forever, but Braden was the one thing I could never give up for him. I think in my heart, I had already made my decision. My head just wasn’t ready to agree.

“I shouldn’t have waited,” I say quietly, more to myself than Braden.

“If you had come sooner, I wouldn’t have missed your birthday,” Braden says. “I feel awful about that. You’ll have to let me make it up to you, Libby.”

My mind falls back to a request from Lance. “How about a double date this weekend with Lance?”

His face wrinkles up in a completely adorable fashion. He knows my history with Lance, and used to really dislike him for turning against the Guardians before he realized himself how corrupt they are, but his expression puzzles me. He knows Lance and I are only friends and he definitely doesn’t hold his allegiances against him anymore.

“What?”

“I was hoping to do something with just the two of us,” he says. “I don’t think Lance wants to be a third wheel, anyway.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I didn’t mean you, me, and Lance. I meant us and Lance and his date. He wants to ask Hope out, but she’s a little intense and he’s afraid she won’t go unless I come. And since I don’t want to be a third wheel, either, we’ll make it a double.”

He still doesn’t look convinced. I sit up next to him and put on my most puppy-eyed look.

“Please? Believe me, you and I will have plenty of alone time. One night with Lance and Hope isn’t too awful, is it?” I ask.

Braden sits up as well. “Not many guys would appreciate having to go on a double date with his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend. And if the alone time you’re referring to is supposed to be a repeat of this,” he says, gesturing to him being in my bed, “think again, you little scoundrel. I knew you really needed some sleep. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stayed. If I stay again, it will be in the guest bedroom.”

“You know Lance is just my friend, so stop whining, and you stayed because you wanted to and you know it,” I say, jabbing my finger against his chest. “And did you just call me your girlfriend?”

“Yes, I did. Do you have a problem with that?” His attempt at looking vaguely threatening doesn’t work. It just makes me want to pull him under the covers and kiss him until I can’t breathe.

I want to grin and revel in the title, but I say, “Not once I talk to Milo, I won’t.”

My hands start shaking at the thought. He is going to be so angry. He will tell me exactly how much I have hurt him, and I’ll force myself to stand there and take it, drink in the agony of my decision. I have made my choice, and I won’t go back on it for anything, but that doesn’t mean I look forward to the repercussions. My eyes close to hold my tears as memories of Milo assault me.

“Hey,” Braden says softly, taking my hands in his, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

“Yes, I do,” I say.

“I can …”

I shake my head at him. “You being there will only make Milo angrier. I have to face him myself.”

I can tell Braden does not like the idea of me facing Milo alone. He has seen Milo get angry talking about the Guardians. He batted down so many plans Milo presented because the risks he was willing to take to accomplish his goals were unacceptable. I kept Milo’s secret about the dead Seeker when I spoke to the board, but I told Braden everything. He saw the shudder of fear that ran through me when I described Milo’s expression as he fired. Braden must be thinking the same thing, because his head starts shaking even harder.

I press a hand against Braden’s cheek to stop him. “Milo won’t hurt me,” I say. “He’ll hate me, probably for the rest of his life, but he won’t hurt me.”

Only the conviction in my voice makes him relent.

I nod, thankful he won’t try to intercept me, and turn my thoughts to more mundane topics. “Thank you for staying, but now you need to get out so I can get ready for school.”

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll go get some breakfast ready.”

I wander over my closet looking for something to wear. I grab a black tank top and hoodie to go with a pair of dark jeans. I look at my selections and grimace. People are going to think I’ve turned Goth, but the colors suit my mood so I don’t put them back. I toss my clothes on my bed and turn to Braden, who still hasn’t left.

“I thought you were going to make me breakfast?”

“It’s hard to leave you,” he says seriously.

“It’s only a few minutes.”

He kisses me lightly. “I know.” His fingers trail down my skin as he lets go and walks toward the door.

I rush through my shower and head out to the kitchen in record time. The smell of pancakes and bacon does as much to hurry me as knowing Braden is waiting for me. I slip into a chair at the kitchen table just as he sets a plate down in my spot. The bananas and powdered sugar topping the stack of pancakes make me think of one of my favorite singers. His song about making banana pancakes always puts a smile on my face. It makes it a little easier for me to picture myself grown up and spending my weekends happily lounging around in my pajamas and eating breakfast with someone I love, with nothing else to worry about other than whether I have the right amount of syrup. I can almost pretend I’m there already.

Only the knowledge that Milo will be at school dampens my mood. I take a big bite, hoping they will help me stay at least a few steps above terrified and depressed. As soon as the fluffy pancakes hit my tongue, I smile at Braden. They’re delicious.

“Maybe there are some careers still available to me,” he says. “I could open a restaurant and be a chef somewhere. What do you think?”

“Definitely,” I agree, “but don’t go signing a lease quite yet. I’m going to figure out how to give you back your talents, Braden. We’re going to start tonight. There has to be some way to reverse the Serqet. I’ll figure it out.”

He nods, but doesn’t saying anything. His faith in me is astounding.

“What are you going to do today?” I ask. I wish he hadn’t lost his job as school Guardian. Getting to see him there was one of the few things that made school bearable. After the abuse I got yesterday from some of the more hostile students, and the agony waiting for me in the form of a furious Milo, I could use another friendly face.

“I, uh, thought I’d go by the training house, maybe. There’s probably something I can do, teach technique, or maybe help with the intel reports.”

He seems so unsure. I hate that. Braden is a born leader. He got Lance and Milo to behave and focus when nothing else could. He was always so in control of everything—well, except me—and now he’s hesitant about what he should do.

“Of course, Braden. Kayla has been having a hard time with her coordination. Her Speed keeps tripping her up. Lance has been handling most of the information we’ve collected, but he’s got school and his own training to worry about, too. There’s probably going to be too much for you to do once you get there.”

“Hmm, maybe I won’t go, then. I could always just stay here and watch some soaps. I know where you keep your secret chocolate stash, too,” he teases.

Braden sitting around doing nothing? That’s a laugh. Him taking a day off amounts to running through the Bosque, or something equally exhausting. “Whatever, you lazy bum. I’ll be at the training house right after school. If you want to see me, you’ll be there, too.”

The kiss he drops on my neck is followed by, “I do want to see you.”

“Then I’ll see you later,” I say, standing and turning into his arms. “And, seriously. Don’t touch my chocolate.”

He just gives me a devilish smile. I’m serious. He’s going to get it if he dips into my Godiva stockpile. When he tries to kiss me again, I hold him back and wait expectantly. Finally, he gives in and promises not to touch them.

“Have a good day, then. I love you, Libby.” Braden presses me against his chest and kisses me lightly.

In his arms, in this moment, I feel as if I have found the dream I have been looking for my entire life. We’re not off to work like we might be a few years from now, if I live that long. We’re standing in a borrowed house instead of one that is ours. We’ve just barely begun our relationship rather than the married couple I have pictured so many times. The children I don’t know if I’ll ever see are just a wish. But for a moment, I am in the arms of the man I love and never want to be apart from. We’re standing on the brink of a future that has not been laid out yet, no matter what anyone else thinks. I can feel the real possibility that everything will work out. Hope, happiness, optimism, feelings I so rarely feel swallow me entirely. I will remember this moment always.

“I love you, too, Braden.”

He smiles and kisses me one more time before a knock on the door interrupts us. Maybe the knock should make the moment shatter, but it doesn’t. Nothing can. I say a quick goodbye to Braden and meet Lance at the door. His own chipper attitude mirrors mine. About as much of a morning person as I usually am, it catches me off guard.

“Hey … what’s up?” I ask.

Lance motions to Braden’s car with a questioning look. “So, uh, have a good birthday?”

“The best,” I say knowing I don’t have to worry about him asking about just how good it was like he might have a year ago. He’d already know if things went that far. Ugh, I really need to figure out something to mask that for when things do go further than they did last night. Best not to think about that for now.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, grinning like a big dork. “First good night’s sleep I’ve had in months. Is he planning on staying every night? I could really use the rest.”

My smirk only eggs him on. He wants an answer. “That’s still under debate,” I say.

“Well, if my opinion counts, I vote that he stays.”

I smack his arm, and say, “It doesn’t, but I’ll mention it to Braden anyway. Now can we go to school? You know I can’t be late.”

Lance grabs my arm and stops me from dashing off to the car. His grip doesn’t hurt, but the way he’s holding me is firm and filled with anxiety. “Lance?”

“Look, Libby, I’m really happy you had a good birthday and made up with Braden. I really am, because you’re probably going to need some good thoughts to get you through today.”

“What are you talking about, Lance?” I know I’m going to have to face Milo and tell him once again that I have failed his trust and his heart, but Lance’s shouldn’t know anything about that yet. I worry that something terrible has happened.

“We found out where Drake has been hiding last night,” Lance says, “but that’s the good news. The bad news is that Milo tried to come see you last night, to tell you about Drake, and you weren’t here. After calling everyone in a panic, it didn’t take him long to figure out who you might be with. I guess he drove to Braden’s and saw your car … and you not in it. He’s pissed.”

My stomach relocates to my toes. I kept Braden from taking me out to get something to eat because I was worried about running into Milo. I wanted to tell him myself, not have him find out by surprise or gossip. My whole body constricts. The one small hope I had of our conversation not being completely crushing was that I was going to tell him, be honest, own up. I’ve lost that. “I was planning on telling him today. I didn’t want him to find out from anyone else but me” I say, feeling suddenly sick.

“Your luck never has been very good,” Lance says, “sorry. I know this is going to suck for you.”

Suck doesn’t even begin to describe it. This is so not going to be a good day. That pocketful of happiness is definitely going to come in handy later.

Chapter 18

Back to Lying

Not only do I have to avoid my ex-best friend, Jen, who’s trying to out me to the world as a psycho, and Blackwood, who I spotted roaming the hallways as soon as I got to school this morning, but now I have to avoid Milo, too. When I first met Milo, he was hiding from the Guardians, angry at his circumstances and parents, and determined to melt into the background. That was the guy I fell for, the one who worried about me constantly and was willing to risk his safety to be with me. So much has changed since then, between us and about us.

Over the past year, Milo has changed from the shaggy haired sweetheart I first met into something different. After I unlocked his talents, I hoped some of his anger at his parents and the Guardians would disappear. Unfortunately, it was only a few hours later that we found out his parents had lied to him about who he was and that the Guardians had thousands more like him locked up in the spirit world. This knowledge didn’t change Milo into a fury-ridden lunatic, but it did change him slowly into someone just different enough to make me worry. His obsession with destroying the Guardians has grown over the last year. The dead Seeker is proof of that

I am not that same girl from my Inquest, either. In some ways, I’ve grown stronger, accepting my purpose and destiny and charging forward, but I have changed in other ways too. Before my Inquest, I lied out of necessity to save my own life. Lying about Braden protected no one’s life, only my imagined righteousness. In the dark corners of my mind, I have always seen myself as someone only capable of hurting, but by accident and the cruelty of my fate. The pain I’ve caused Milo has more to do with my selfishness than anything else.

Neither of us are who we were a year ago, but we still have the same goal. Destroy the Guardians. My only hope as I walk in to school is that Milo will remember that and not abandon me completely.

I walk through my classes like a zombie, not really hearing or seeing anything. I am too focused on looking for signs of the people I am not ready to face.

I’m just walking through a school hallway, nothing exciting there, but knowing that Jen’s Concealment is cracking away, poking at me for information, makes me want to shiver every time I catch sight of her. After the pictures she took of me and Braden that almost ruined everything, my footsteps stall at the idea that she might have seen me last night. Could she have alerted Milo in some way? I’ve yet to confront her about the pictures, but if she was responsible for this, I will not let it go quietly. Blackwood doesn’t make another appearance, luckily. I was afraid he was going to try to pull me out today. That would save me from having to face Milo, but I really am not in the mood for him.

Halfway through my school day, I run out of places to hide. Perception is the one class Milo and I have together. If I don’t go in, I’ll be pinched for ditching. But so will Milo. I know he’s in there. I stand in front of the door questing out with my Perception to gauge the emotional temperature of the room. Average for the most part, except for the tightly wound ball of fury in the back corner where we usually sit. Milo is a master at hiding his emotions from me. If I can feel him now, it’s either because he wants me to, or because he’s so angry he can’t keep it all bottled up. Neither option is a good sign.

But I push the door open and step inside, anyway.

I hold my breath as I walk to my desk. He doesn’t look at me or respond in any way. I slide into my seat and sink into my chair. His frozen posture makes it clear we won’t be speaking to each other right now.  He knows as well as I do that getting into an argument in the middle of class will get us both suspended. I look over at him for some indication of when, but his eyes stayed focused squarely in front of him. I spend the entire class staring at my desk.

When the bell rings, I glance over at Milo. He finally catches my gaze. The heat pouring off of him singes me. I stand still and bear it, silently asking if I should follow him. Shouldering his bag, Milo speeds out of the room. I don’t try to catch up. I slog through the rest of my classes and walk to Lance’s car after the last one. I half expected Milo to be waiting for me and lash into me as soon as we were out of the earshot of any teachers. Lance greets me with a sideways glance at Milo hunkering in his car. Oh.

I slide into the back seat of Lance’s car, leaving the front open for Hope. I guess Milo wants to do this at the training house. It’s more private than school, but the training house is where everyone I care most about will be. I tell myself Milo didn’t choose it because he knew that having to admit my failures and sins in front of everyone following me will make my humiliation complete. I tell myself that, but I don’t believe it. I put my head down and block everything out as we leave the school.

The drive is much too short for my tastes. Maybe Milo’s too. He doesn’t get out of his car right away. I offer to make the first move. I get out of Lance’s car, motioning for him and Hope to take off.

I hold out my backpack to Lance and ask, “Don’t let Braden leave the house, got it?”

“Fine,” he says, “but I’m coming back out if I need to.”

“Just go. He’s not going to hurt me.”

Lance looks doubtful, but Hope grabbing his hand and yanking him toward the front door just about erases me from his mind. As soon as they disappear, Milo gets out of his car and walks over to me. “I know where you were last night,” he growls.

“I know you do, and I was going to tell you today, I swear.”

“How could you do that to me, Libby?”

“Milo, I’m so sorry. I had no intention of staying with Braden when I went to see him last night. I only went because …”

My voice trails off. Everything about Milo says he’s balanced on a knife’s edge right now. I realize telling him about the Socius may disintegrate the control he’s clinging to. If I had been able to tell him before, the information might have changed his mind, but now …. the only thing I have left to offer Milo is a fulfillment of his dream to erase the Guardians from existence. If he finds out about the Socius, and that my only chance at victory may be lost, he will lose it. Hate won’t be a strong enough word. I truly worry that if I tell him, that look I saw when he shot the Seeker will reappear, and he will hurt me, or worse.

“Because why?” Milo demands.

Lying got me into this mess, but I do it again. “Because after seeing what Drake did to that Guardian, I got scared he was going to do it to Braden. I went there after school yesterday to beg him to let us protect him full time.”

“I went by his house after midnight trying to find you. You were still there.”

“I know.”

“When did you leave?”

I swallow, determined to tell him the truth as much as possible. “A little after one.”

Milo’s face twists into a scowl. “Your car was still there this morning.”

“Braden drove me home …” I know he’s going to ask, so I just say it. “… because I asked him to.”

He doesn’t ask if Braden stayed with me. I think he already knows the answer to that question by the way his skin is suddenly flushed a violent red. “You came to me!” he snaps. “You came to me and asked me to forgive you, to take you back! Why did you come to me like that if all along you intended to go back to Braden? Do you enjoy stabbing me in the back?”

My chest convulses as I try to hold in my sobbing. “No, of course not, Milo. I came to you because I want to be with you. I had no intention of going back to Braden. I wanted you. I only … I tried to stay away. I begged you to protect Braden so I didn’t have to. I knew I couldn't be around him, so I asked you for help. I tried to stay away … I tried.”

“You asked me to protect the man who stole you from me!” Milo screams. “How was that fair?”

I shake my head vigorously. “I know it wasn’t fair, but I asked you to do it because I knew I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You should have just let him die!”

Tears spill past my control at his harsh words. “You knew I couldn’t. I was willing to do anything you wanted. All I asked for in return was to know he was safe and alive. You couldn’t give that to me, so I did it myself. I didn’t want to be the one, but I was, and I couldn’t be that close to him and not fall. I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve given up on me? On us?”

“I’ve made a choice,” I say quietly.

“It’s the same thing,” he barks.

Maybe it is. I don’t respond. Milo’s stiffens at my silence.

“You’re not bringing him here for protection. I won’t allow it,” says angrily.

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine.”

“Screw around with him all you want on your own time, but I will not stand for him being here with us! There’s no point in having him around anymore. He can’t help. He’s useless. I don’t want him here!”

“You have no right to demand that. This isn’t just your operation. It’s mine,” I snap. “I want him here. You have no say in the matter. Braden can still help us. He’s not useless and you know it.”

“He has no talents, no purpose! He’s a liability,” Milo argues, his face slowly turning red.

“Even without talents, you know Braden still has a lot of tactical knowledge, leadership skills, and information that no one else in this group has. You know he can help. You’re angry at me. Don’t punish everyone else by turning away help.”

Milo’s hands bunch into fists before slashing out in front of him angrily. “Angry! Angry doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now!”

I don’t argue. I don’t block his emotions. I let his words and fury wash over.

“Why?” he asks. “Why was it that as soon as Braden popped up I wasn’t good enough anymore? After everything we had already been through together, why wasn’t I worth holding onto?”

“Milo,” I say, stunned by his words, “you were worth holding onto! I know I messed up and made mistakes, but I tried!”

“Yeah? Then why are we where we are now?” he demands. “You admitted the day he was taken that you were in love with him. You had already put me aside. You went crazy trying to get to him! Why can’t you just admit you had already written me off?”

Sadness coats my skin. “If you had listened to anything I said that day, Milo, you would have heard me say that I risked Braden’s life because I still loved you.”

Milo’s stares at me. “What?”

“I could have let Braden give me his Guardian Oath at any time. He wanted to. He begged me to let him, but I told him no. I knew the Guardians might take him and change him if I didn’t let him give it to me, but I still said no.” I have to pause to control my emotions. Tears are burning inside my skull again, but I try to get through what I want to say without letting them fall. “I told him no, because I knew that the second he gave me his Oath my feelings for him would overpower how much I loved you. I couldn’t do it, Milo. I didn’t want to let you go, not like that. I loved you, don’t you understand that?”

There is a second of hesitation before Milo’s anger doubles. “If you would have just stayed away from him after he tried to kill you then everything would have been fine!”

I know how much agony I have forced on him, but a deep well of resentment builds in my chest. “I begged you to help me stay away from Braden. I begged you!”

My own anger softens some when Milo’s voice calms and says, “If you really loved me, you should have been able to stay away from Braden when I asked you to.”

My shoulders sag. “But I loved you both. If it had been you in danger with no one to watch over you, I won’t have abandoned you, either.”

“But would you have gone back to me like you have with him?” Milo asks. “That’s what you’re telling me, right? You’re choosing Braden over me.”

“Yes,” I say through my anguish. “And I don’t know if I would have gone back to you if the tables were turned.”

I think of what I said to Braden, how thinking I had lost him forever nearly broke me, that thinking of losing Milo couldn’t compare. Changing nothing else, if it were Milo I had gone to see last night … I can’t tell him the results would have been the same. I don’t want to lie anymore.

Milo looks away from me. “There was so much more I believed we would be … you and me. I saw us defeating the Guardians together, rebuilding the world, making things right.”

“We’re still going to do all those things,” I tell him.

Rounding on me, fury bursts around him like a poison cloud. “I saw us doing those things together! This was our plan! Something we were going to bring to the world together! Well, not anymore.”

Panic grips me. “What? You’re giving up?”

“No,” he snaps, “but this is the end of us. The only thing you are to me now is a way to crush the Guardians. I am not your friend, or anything else. We have nothing except for this mission. If it weren’t for that …” His fists tighten into angry knots. Energy builds around him, humming with the desire to be let free. I take a frightened step back. Milo doesn’t seem to even see me anymore. The same look I saw right before I watched the Seeker’s body crumple under the force of Milo’s bullet returns. When Milo speaks, his words drive me back another step.

“You can give me the Guardians. That’s the only reason you’re worth anything to me now.”

Milo storms away through a cloud of hatred. I sink against the hood of Lance’s car, shaking. I can’t make it stop. Naturalism fails me completely. If Milo ever finds out about Braden being my Socius, about me breaking that bond by stealing his talents and dooming this entire endeavor if I can’t figure out how to reverse the Serqet … thinking of what that might do to him scares me. Suddenly, I am back to lying in order to save my own life, and everyone else’s as well.

Chapter 19

Shatter

Spread out across the table are the schematics for Drake’s hacienda. Saying they weren’t easy to get a hold of would be as big of an understatement as saying my mom and I aren’t close. Lance still won’t tell me how he found out who the builders were, but I suspect hacking into his dad’s secure computer last night had something to do with it. I just hope he covered his tracks. Even though his dad isn’t speaking to him right now, I know he would never turn in his own son to the Guardians. However, if someone else found out Lance stole confidential information, there would be nothing his dad could do to protect him. The danger Lance put himself in isn’t lost on me as I pour over the plans.

I’m not the only one with my eyes glued to the drawings. Plans are already forming as Lance’s eyes flick over the lines. Braden and Dean are pointing and discussing. Cole Vera is practically lying on top of the table trying to get a look at every inch of the papers. The only one missing is Milo. That’s been his status for two days, ever since he found out about me and Braden.

He made it clear that breaking Guardians into little pieces is still his number one goal, and I was no longer anything more than a tool to get him there, so I forced myself to text him about this meeting as soon as Lance told me he had the plans this morning. I haven’t heard from him. I didn’t expect him to text me back with thanks or congratulations for Lance’s achievement, but I did expect him to show up and look at the plans. His absence is beginning to worry me. Add that to the nauseating feeling I get every time I think about having to see Milo again, and it’s enough to make me wish I hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning.

“That is one monster security system,” Lance says, breaking the concentrated silence.

“The massive wall of rock surrounding three-quarters of his property is more security than most people would ever need,” Cole pipes in. “He’s cut off any approach but the front door!”

Braden shakes his head. “The wall isn’t as big of an obstacle as you might think, but handprint scanners, security cameras, and I’ll guarantee there are at least two dozen guards on the perimeter alone are much more of a problem than the rock wall.”

“That’s a lot of men to take down,” Dean says solemnly.

My ears perk up at that comment. “Take down? We’re not killing all of those men.”

The guys in the room stare at me. The incredulity in there expressions gets on my nerves immediately. “We don’t have to kill them all. Incapacitating them will work just as well.”

They’re still looking at me like I’m crazy. “Am I the only one who’s thinking about how it will look if Drake’s cleaning lady shows up the next day and finds a house full of blood and bodies? Who do you think going to get blamed for that?” I point at myself, daring them to tell me I’m wrong. “If all anyone can figure out the next day is that Drake’s guards were knocked out and he disappeared, who’s to say he didn’t leave all on his own. We’ve heard rumors that he’s planning something against Howe. That’s reason enough for him to bail.”

Slowly, grudgingly, they all start nodding. Thank goodness.

“Actually getting in there to do any incapacitating,” Lance says, emphasizing his dislike for the word, “isn’t going to be easy. Every inch of this guy’s property is under three different forms of surveillance.”

“Let’s take them one at a time, then,” Braden suggests. “Cameras are by far the least difficult to around …”

“If you have an AV wizard,” Lance interrupts, “which we don’t.”

“We’ll find one.” Even if I have to employ some manipulation, I’ll make sure we have someone to take care of any video feeds floating around Drake’s hacienda.

“The guards,” Braden continues, “are going to be Seekers for sure. Libby has already proven Ciphers can get past them, but that hardly means we can walk right in there.”

A defensive posture pulls Lance upright. “Ciphers? I am not being left behind again!”

“Neither am I,” Braden agrees.

I try to put in my two cents on the topic, but Braden talks over the top of me.

“The Seekers inability to see Ciphers gives us an advantage, but not enough of one. They still have eyes. The Concealment techniques you’ve been teaching everyone could be the answer to hiding both the Ciphers and non-Ciphers, but only if enough people can get them to work. So far Libby, Milo, and Hammond are the only ones who’ve perfected the invisibility technique. And I don’t think any of them can shield a second person yet.”

Finally, I get a chance to speak. “There are others I’m sure can learn, but we need a number. How many people do you think it will take to get in there and grab Drake? If I don’t think we can get enough people trained in a short enough time, we’ll have to come up with another idea.”

“Fifteen,” Lance offers.

“At least twenty,” Braden counters. Lance starts to argue, but he‘s stopped by Braden’s raised hand. “You know a lot about Guardians, thanks to you dad, but you don’t know everything they’re capable of. Fifteen might be able to do it, but twenty will be better. And I think it’s still in the realm of what we can manage.”

Braden looks over at me for confirmation. In my head, I count up the members of my team I think are capable of using their Concealment well enough to be useful. A few seconds later, I nod hesitantly. “Twenty might be pushing it, but I think we can manage.”

“Okay,” Lance says, “then that leaves tactics. How on earth are we going to get into this guy’s fortress?”

Not even Braden has a quick answer for that question. We all fall back into silence as our attention returns to the schematics. Dug out of sandstone and lava rock, Drake’s hacienda is very well protected. Even with Concealment going full-tilt, walking up the driveway is out of the question. Cole starts to say something when the groan of an opening door makes him pause. Something about the innocuous sound alerts everyone. Eyes turn toward the creak.

Palm flat against the solid oak door, Milo glares at everyone in the room. Lance and Braden step closer to me. Their protective movements only irritate Milo more. No one moves. No one says anything, either. I think everyone expects me to take the lead since I’m the one who caused this awkward confrontation. I open my mouth, but finding the right words seems impossible as the hurt, guilt, and ache of seeing him again bear down on me.

“You couldn’t be bothered to wait for me?” Milo demands as he finally steps into the room.

Cole, who has never cared much for Milo, glances at the phone perched in his hand. “It’s like noon. Libby’s text said to meet her here at—”

My razored glare cuts him off. Pointing out that Milo should have showed up two hours ago like everyone else is not going to help the situation. Cole shoves his phone into his jeans pocket, quiet now. I drag my voice back from wherever it was hiding, and say, “Sorry, Milo. We weren’t sure if you were coming, but now that you’re here you can help us figure out how to get past Drake’s guards.”

I know he heard me, but my words drift past him like they never existed. Milo’s eyes are locked on Braden. He marches forward. I tense, readying myself for his reaction. Movement to my right startles me, because that’s where Braden is standing. Milo’s voice cuts through the room.

“Braden’s here? You don’t need my input now that he’s back?” The sneer in his voice makes me cringe.

“Milo,” Braden says, “maybe we should step outside.” He moves away from me and toward Milo. I grab at his hand, but he slips away from me.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” Milo snaps. “I don’t need you to tell me what you think, either, or how to get into Drake’s place. I don’t need you to train me, or criticize my technique or decisions. I don’t need you at all.”

My lips beg me to defend Braden, to calm Milo. I want to intervene. I don’t need the quick shake of Lance’s head to tell me what a bad idea that would be. For two days, I have been terrified of this moment. I had hoped to avoid it, but I know it needs to happen. Keeping these two apart isn’t realistic. It kills me, but I stand back and stay quiet, and say a silent pray that they won’t hurt each other.

“If it were only your decision,” Braden says to Milo as he approaches him slowly, “I would leave right now. I know you’re angry with me, and I deserve your anger.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Milo growls. “Don’t act benevolent and understanding after what you did! You took her from me. You don’t understand my anger. You don’t know what it feels like to lose her!”

The air in the room crackles as Braden’s emotional control weakens. Panic begins trickling through my veins. Lance tenses up, but doesn’t move.

“I do know what it feels like to lose her,” Braden says. His hands clench and unclench. “I know what it feels like to be physically tortured because I loved her so much and could be turned into a weapon to kill her. I know what it feels like to have her life in my hands and hate myself for wanting to take it. I know what it’s like to be in love with her and be certain she’ll never love me in return.”

Braden takes a breath, and I fear Milo will lash into him. He stays eerily silent. Bottled rage simmers like a furnace gone molten.

“I have lost Libby again and again. To you. To a forced Oath. To a lost Companion.” Frustration and anger, laced with compassion ripple out from Braden. “I know I took Libby away from you, and I’m sorry you were hurt because of me. That wasn’t my intention when I first sought her out. I just wanted to know who she really was. Falling in love with her just happened. She wanted you for so long, and I tried to give her what she wanted in the end, but how could I make any other choice when she came to me? I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t live without her.”

“And I can?”

Braden loses it. “You’ve done it well enough for the past year!”

Milo’s cloudy grey eyes darken to blackest night. “What is that supposed to mean?”

"How many times did you put the Ciphers ahead of her? How many times were you too busy to be there when she was scared, or exhausted, or in pain? How often did she cry on your shoulder?” Braden demands. “Libby didn’t seek me out all those times. You left her alone and I stepped in to do what you should have.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Milo says angrily.

“I know that I was there and you weren’t.”

Braden’s accusation electrifies the air. Every muscle in Milo’s body bunches into power-filled knots. “I was trying to rescue the Ciphers!” Milo yells. “Why am I the only one who understands that? I was focused. I needed to be focused. I was trying to save them!”

“So was everyone else,” Braden argues, “so was Libby. All she wanted was for you to care as much about her as you did the Ciphers.”

Milo flings his hands up. “There were more important things to worry about!”

The pang Milo’s words send through me is echoed in Braden’s frustrated growl. He looks at Milo squarely, demanding. “Was saving the Ciphers worth losing her?”

Braden’s question incites a storm of emotion in Milo’s eyes. It hurts so much to see the indecision he’s battling. Despite his anger, I had hoped, prayed his answer would be no. Braden holds my heart in his hands now, but pieces chip off and fall into an emotional abyss. Braden is still waiting for an answer, but I have mine. I tuck it away somewhere I won’t easily find it again and dry the tears from my cheeks.

“I’m not proud of how I ended up with Libby,” Braden admits in the face of Milo’s silence, “but I can’t change anything now. None of us can. To be honest, I wouldn’t even if I could.”

I suck in a horrified breath as Milo’s fist launches at Braden. My eyes close against the image, but I hear the impact all the same. The crack of knuckles on cheekbone staggers me. Talent meeting no talent is a sickening sound. Opening my eyes feels like torture. Fear that I stood back when I should have stopped them makes the motion slow and dread filled. When I finally force myself to look, the image of Milo standing over Braden is too much to bear. I dart forward, but a firm hand holds me back yet again. I glare over at Lance, but Milo’s acidic voice makes me shiver and hold back.

“Stay away from me,” Milo spits at Braden, “and stay out of my way. I want nothing to do with either of you anymore. I want the Guardians dead. That’s all I have left.”

Wiping blood off his face along the way, Braden makes it back to his feet. My heart lurches, checking every movement for serious damage. He shakes off any lingering disorientation and faces Milo. “I have no intention of getting in your way or forcing my presence on you. I’m here to help Libby bring down the Guardians, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“I don’t want your help,” Milo snaps.

“But she does.”

Milo shifts, the movement belying his desire to take another swing. If he goes after him again, Lance won’t be able to hold me back. I don’t know how Braden withstood the first hint, but I have no intention of watching him cave under a second. Thankfully, Milo reins in his fury, for the most part.

He glares at Braden, no hint of wavering in his voice when he speaks. “I can’t force you to leave, but if you do anything to jeopardize our chances of bringing an end to the Guardians, nothing Libby can do will stop me from coming after you.”

It’s not an empty threat, and Braden knows that, but he nods in understanding. That simple gesture seems to drain the room of its sizzling tension. Mistrust, anger, and awkwardness remain, but the cooling is enough to reset the temperature of the meeting. They both approach the table. Each goes to an opposite side, but their agreement holds. The discussion resumes, haltingly at first, but the beginning of a plan to kidnap the most dangerous Guardian in town slowly starts to form on the back of a crack in my army that has the potential to split wide and engulf us completely.

Tighter than ever, I hold onto the secret of the Socius, knowing that everything could shatter if it ever slips free.

Chapter 20

An Empty Place

“Is Daniel any closer to being able to completely conceal himself yet?” I ask Lance as we pull up to the training house.

It’s been ages since we learned where Drake is hiding. Lance wasn’t joking when he said it wasn’t going to be easy getting to him. Almost two months later, and we’re still not ready to go after him. Everyone is on edge about the time it’s taking us, but Milo can think of little else. I’m not the only one worried about his growing obsession anymore.

The hacienda Drake is staying at hasn’t even been the problem as much as getting everyone trained enough to be able to pull off what we need them to do. Week after week, we’ve planned, trained, and argued about everything from tactics to who will be on the abduction team. All of that is moot unless we can get more than me, and maybe Milo and Lance capable of putting their talents into full offensive use.

“Not as of yesterday,” Lance says. “He’s supposed to be working with Hammond today.”

“That’s good. If Hammond can’t teach him, nobody will be able to. It’s ridiculous how quickly he’s taken to Concealment. He doesn’t have the power I do, but he can do as much with it as I can.”

“And that’s some high praise given that you grew up with your mom and grandpa, who are scary, top level Concealers.” Lance has had the misfortune of experiencing both of their power just like I have. It wasn’t pleasant.

Lance reaches over and taps my leg out of habit, a sign that he’s ready to get moving. I wince and swat his hand away. “Please don’t do that.”

“Oh, shoot. Sorry, I forgot.” He shrugs apologetically and gets out without touching me again.

He wouldn’t have forgotten if he could see the other side of my face. I don’t push my dark hair behind my ear like I often do. I need the camouflage. Stiff muscles make me move a little slower than normal as I get out of the car. Lance is waiting for me, lonely without Hope, who’s out of town helping her parents pack up the last of their stuff to bring it down here and make their move official. I reach him, limping only slightly, and knock his hand away when he tries to help me. He tries to grab my elbow again, but the sound of feet bounding down the front stairs stops him.

I look up too quickly, making my hair fall back, and instantly regret the movement. Braden’s eyes bulge. He stumbles down the last few steps, still managing to stay on his feet, amazingly enough.

“What happened?” he demands. He rushes to my side and brushes my hair back to inspect the hideous purple bruise covering the lower half of my face.

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

“This is not nothing! Who did this?” Braden demands.

Maybe lying has just become second nature to me, given the constant battle to investigate reversing Braden’s Serqet without Milo finding out, but when Lance opens his mouth I beg him to shut it again. He doesn’t. “Blackwood pulled her out of class today.”

I brace myself for a shock of anger, but it doesn’t come. Instead, fear and concern douse me. Braden’s fingers gently probe my skin, his lips kissing my forehead once he’s sure the damage isn’t too bad. Knowing Milo didn’t do this makes his response much softer. Braden’s only other chance to respond to me being injured has involved Milo, so I expected something different. With Braden, my wellbeing is his first concern. A few times, that has almost led to fights between him and Milo. For the sake of me not getting injured and Braden not getting dead, Lance refuses to schedule anymore training session between me and Milo because of his habit of taking out his anger and frustration on me … and enjoying it. Braden’s anger and desire to pay back his former boss will come later, I’m sure, but not yet.

“I was afraid something like this would happen. I wondered why he hadn’t pulled you out already. I thought he was planning something,” Braden says. “What happened? What did he do?”

His concern makes me smile. I love it. “Calm down, Braden, it wasn’t anything like you’re thinking. Blackwood didn’t plan anything. I don’t think he’s smart enough for that.”

“Why has it taken him so long to grab you, then?”

“Principal Andrews,” Lance says. “Blackwood was the one who told her to expel Libby, and after the board reversed her decision she’s taken a lot of flak for it. Word has been getting around about what Libby told everyone at the hearing, thanks to Jen. Not to mention the effect of having all the Ciphers get in contact with their non-Cipher friends and telling them the truth has had. Most people are scared of Guardians as it is, and Libby’s testimony didn’t help that. Plus, Andrews would prefer to keep her job. She’s been fighting Blackwood for the right to pull Libby out since she came back. She refused to let him take her off campus.”

Braden just stares at Lance after that spiel. “How do you know all of that?”

“Jen’s still good for something,” Lance laughs.

Braden doesn’t laugh. He recognizes the name and frowns. “Jen. The one who took the pictures?”

I nod. “She used to be my best friend, remember? She’s a grade younger than me, and she’s a Concealer. My mom has been grooming her since her Inquest. Taking pictures isn’t the only thing she knows how to do. She keeps following me around at school, which is getting really annoying,” I say.

“She’s your ex-best friend,” Braden says, “so why would she be telling you stuff like this, and how does Jen even know?”

Lance looks over at me and shakes his head. “I know we’re not the only two people in the world who read the school blog. Come one, Braden, you have to know how valuable gossip is as an intelligence source. Jen is one of the school’s reporters. She digs up anything and everything that happens at that school and posts it on the school blog. She’s been ranting about it for weeks.”

“I haven’t seen any of this in the intel reports,” Braden says with a frown.

“The web address was in the list I gave you weeks ago. You were supposed to check them all out.” Lance rolls his eyes when Braden admits he didn’t even look at the blog, thinking it wasn’t important. “Keep an eye on it from now on. In fact, Jen will probably have a full account of what happened with Blackwood posted within the hour if she doesn’t already.”

“Wait, what? Jen was there, too?” Braden asks.

Yeah, that made the whole thing twice as fun. Although, I suppose her spreading what really happened around to a few more people really can’t do anything but help my case. If she tells the truth. For a second, I worry about what she’ll post. My mom’s influence on her can’t be anything to be thrilled about, but I have to hope she hasn’t changed that much. Jen is relentless when it comes to getting the information she wants, but she’s also honest. She wants the truth even more than the sensationalism.

“Jen got released from class by using the excuse that she was covering our training session for the school paper. She watched the whole thing from the bleachers,” I say. My leg is starting to ache more from standing up, so I try not to limp as I walk over to the hood of the car and sit down. I don’t do a good enough job. Braden doesn’t miss the distinct hint that my face isn’t the only place Blackwood got me and frowns deeply. The edge of anger I was expecting starts to creep in.

“What happened?” he asks.

I shrug. “Blackwood wanted me to fight him, and I refused. If he wants to know what else I can do, he’ll have to wait until we meet up off school property.”

“So, he hit you because you wouldn’t spar with him?” Barden asks. “I wouldn’t think Blackwood would do something so stupid. This could get him into a lot of trouble. Especially since there was a witness.”

“Well,” I say slowly, “it didn’t exactly happen like that. I may have baited him into hitting me.” Braden scowls at me and waits for an explanation. “Don’t look at me like that. I knew what I was doing. He’s so eager to get out of the doghouse with Drake that riling him up a little was too easy. I told him I wouldn’t fight him, that it would be too easy for me to kill him by accident. I laid it on pretty thick. He’s really rather weak minded, to be honest. The first time he hit me, I didn’t try to block him, but I made it look like I was going to defend myself if he came at me again. He got in a few more hits before he realized I was playing with him. That’s also when he remembered Jen was there. He sent me back to class after that, and disappeared. I don’t think he’ll try to pull me out again anytime soon. Maybe if we’re lucky, Drake will hear about it.”

Braden’s grimace doesn’t go away. It does take on a more sullen quality, though, as he walks over to me and pulls me gently into his arms. “You let him hurt you just to get rid of him and give Jen something to write about? Libby, you can’t risk yourself like that. I don’t like seeing you hurt. Please tell me this won’t happen again.”

“I do what I have to, Braden.”

He frowns and turns my face so he can see the bruise again. The lightest touch of his fingers makes me wince. His lips press against my skin just above the bruise and linger there, making the pain disappear and replacing it with a different kind of ache. I catch sight of Lance from the corner of my eye as he rolls his eyes and bails on us. Poor guy really misses Hope. But I’m not too concerned about him right now. I turn my head and catch Braden’s lips, sliding my hand through his hair and pulling him closer. His mouth moves down to my neck, leaving a burning hot trail in its wake. Forget super-fast healing abilities, this is all I need to feel brand new. Braden’s hands slide down my back, to my hips, and then move slowly down the side of my thigh. His hands curve over the top of my legs and start to make their delicious, enticing way back up, but halfway there he finds my worst injury and I flinch away in pain.

Braden’s hand darts back quickly “I’m sorry, Libby. You’re hurt there, too? Are you okay?”

In the face of his body-melting concern, the pain recedes rapidly. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. Where else are you hurt?” he asks with a frown.

My hands slide up his chest, making him close his eyes with pleasure, and making me smile as well. “I am not showing you where else I’m hurt out here in the driveway. I’ll check out the rest of my injuries after I work out. I plan on taking a long, hot bath tonight.”

Braden groans and pushes my hands away from him. When his eyes open, I can see the smoldering desire my words have inspired. His voice is rough and low when he speaks again.

“What I think is a better idea, would be for you to skip training and go inside to get some rest.”

I pull my hands back up to his chest, and I kiss him long and slow. “Will you come with me? You know I won’t get any rest without you there,” I say when I lean back. His mouth follows mine and kisses me again.

“No,” he says seriously, but wavers when I pull him back down to me.

I’m prepared to argue this, but the sound of the door of the training house closing, and jogging feet force me to hold my tongue. Hammond pops up next to us before I finish sighing. Or before Braden can move away from me, for that matter. Hammond stares at Braden standing between my knees as I sit on the car, his hands still on my thighs, and mine on his chest. I have no doubt he can sense every emotion running through us right now by the way his mouth splits into a grin. I’ve warned him to keep a low level shield up against emotions twenty-four-seven, but he doesn’t seem to mind the effect. I roll my eyes at him, which he ignores.

Hammond laughs at catching us and says, “Hey, sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but Lance said you were out here.”

Braden removes his hand from my thigh and takes a step back, forcing my hands to fall away. Braden actually looks embarrassed. So much for my argument. Lance, I know he misses Hope and is patiently waiting for a chance to kiss her for the first time, but really? Does he have to ruin my moment? Hammond seems to be enjoying Braden’s embarrassment.

“And?” I ask when Hammond doesn’t continue.

“Oh, you have a visitor, Libby. She said she couldn’t stay long so I came out to get you. She’s in the parlor.” Hammond starts to turn away, but remembers something and turns back to me. “I wanted to tell you, too, that Daniel did a lot better today. His shield is getting stronger, and he was able to keep it up for a full ten minutes this afternoon. I think he’ll be ready in a couple more weeks. Kayla wanted you to know she’s improving with her Speed and coordination, as well. Braden can tell you more about that, though. He was training with her today. I watched for a while. Sometimes I forget that man of yours doesn’t have any talents. It was pretty impressive. I better get back to Daniel. Catch you both later,” he says, pausing and grinning again. “Or maybe you two should take this kind of fun somewhere else so I don’t catch you again.”

“Shut up, Hammond,” I say, but my grin is almost as big as his.

That was actually my thought as well. Braden scowls at the both of us. I can see the corners of his mouth trying not to turn up, though. He’s dying to whisk me off to one of the dozens of bedrooms in the training house. But he won’t. He’s made that perfectly clear. I’m too young, in his opinion, and we have more important things to be doing. Again, in his opinion. I’m not convinced.

Braden reaches for my hand and helps me to my feet when I take it. “Come on, let’s go see who this visitor is,” he says, barring any more attempts on my part to distract him. “Do you think it’s Jen looking for a comment on what happened, or something?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head, “she was heading for the AV lab to work on her blog when Lance and I left school. She couldn’t have gotten here before us. I don’t know who it could be.”

“Well, let’s go find out.”

So we do. Getting up the stairs is a painful experience, but thankfully the parlor is right off the foyer, so the rest of the walk isn’t too bad. Braden asks if I want him to leave before I open the door, but whether he has talents anymore or not, there isn’t anyone else I’d rather have at my back. Hammond has already met this girl and didn’t seem concerned, but you never know. Braden’s hand stays firmly in mine as I push the door open.

Her blond head bobs up at the sound of the door. When she spins around, I’m shocked. “Celia? What are you doing here? Did you come with Milo?”

Her eyes dart around at the mention of her brother’s name. “No. You know Milo hasn’t wanted me to get too involved with this stuff because of how dangerous it is.”

“Then what are you doing here?” I ask as I walk further into the room. I thought Milo’s refusal to let her be involved with the Ciphers was ridiculous early on, but he’s been positively adamant about keeping her away since the rescue. It’s been months since I’ve even seen her. While I am wondering what made Celia risk her brother’s anger, her eyes are drawn to Braden’s hand in mine. Her whole face scrunches up and she has to blink back tears.

“It’s really true? You and Milo aren’t going to get back together?”

Braden and I exchange a glance. He silently asks again if I want him to leave, but my answer is the same. “Celia, I’m sorry, but Milo and I, we’re not getting back together. That doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends, though. I’ve missed hanging around with you.”

“Me too,” she says. She already knew her brother and I had broken up, it’s been a couple of months now, but I suppose being faced with it for the first time is still a little shocking. I remember the first time we hung out and she told me about how Milo was finally happy again since he met me. I just wish that could have lasted. Celia looks up at me after composing herself and glances at my bruised cheek. “Sorry about your face. Jen already posted what happened. Does it hurt?”

“It’ll be okay,” I say, “but you didn’t come here to ask about me and Milo or my bruises, did you?”

“No. I came here because Milo can’t keep me away anymore. He wouldn’t let me come because I don’t have any talents to protect me, but he can’t do that anymore,” she says. I glance down at her right wrist and don’t see anything.  She sees me looking and finishes her explanation. “Not after tonight, anyway. Today’s my birthday. I want you to try and perform an Inquest on me. I have an appointment with Inquisitor Moore in a few hours, but I want you to try first.”

She’s sixteen today. I haven’t even thought about Celia in weeks, which doesn’t make me the best friend in the world, but I don’t think I even knew exactly when her birthday was. I knew it was sometimes in October, but it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Braden helps me over to the couch and I sit down next to her. “Celia, just because Milo is a Cipher doesn’t mean you will be, too. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know, I just thought you could at least try.  Maybe it won’t work, but I’d rather have you do it than anyone else. Will you try?” she asks.

She and Milo both told me about how horrible of a night it was when Milo’s first Inquest didn’t work. Their parents panicked, knowing what he was and that he would be taken. Celia had to watch as they pulled Milo away from her and sliced open his wrist trying to forge diktats and keep him from being abducted. A slip of the hand, and Milo very nearly died that night. Celia must be reliving that moment again because her hands are trembling.

I take them in mine, and say, “I’ll try, Celia, but if it doesn’t work, Inquisitor Moore is a good man. He’ll take care of you.”

She smiles thankfully and takes a deep breath. I can feel Braden move up behind me, no doubt staying nearby to keep a close eye on me. My wounds aren’t that bad, but any physical problem makes using talents harder. I close my eyes and start the Inquest. After the initial burst of energy from using my talents fades away, I start pushing my way through Celia’s body and mind. I search, looking for the usual signs of talents, but I can’t find anything. It feels like it does every time I’ve tried searching Braden lately. I don’t like the sensation at all.

I push harder. My Perception becomes more finely tuned, and I delve even deeper. My body is struggling to keep up. Finally, I catch a glimpse of something. It’s faint, but the hint of spiritual energy drifting away from her is there. So is the downward pull of her spirit connecting with the natural world. No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t unlock them. I can sense where each of her talents originates, and how they access her body and senses, but that’s all. What does feel different than when I’ve tried this with Braden is that with him, when I find the place his talents should be, it’s like there’s a hole waiting to be filled. Celia’s are already full, just not open to me. With Braden, they’re open and waiting. I just can’t figure out how to fill them.

I pull my Perception back in and open my eyes. Celia’s eyes blink open as well. “It didn’t work,” she says sadly.

“I’m sorry, Celia, but you’re not a Cipher.” Who would have thought I’d ever be apologizing for that? She looks honestly disappointed. She’s got to be the first. “I can tell you what your talents are, though, if you want.”

“Really? Sure.”

“I couldn’t unlock them, but I could see that you have both Spiritualism and Naturalism, one from each other your parents. I can’t say for sure, but I think it’s a pretty safe bet to say you’ll be in the Creator class. I have no idea what your name will be, though. You’ll have to come back and tell me tomorrow.”

Celia nods happily and assures me she will. That might cause a fight with Milo, but what’s new about that? It’ll be nice to have Celia around again. Celia looks like she’s about ready to leave, but she turns thoughtful as she stands up. “You know, it’s too bad I never got to see the spirit world when all the Ciphers were still there,” she says.

I look at her with a confused expression.

“Not that I wish they were still imprisoned, but what’s the point of going there now? You can do other neat stuff with Spiritualism,” she says, “but I always thought getting to go to the spirit world was the best. Now it’s just an empty place. Oh well.”

She says goodbye and heads off for her second Inquest of the day, leaving me wondering. When she’s gone, I turn to Braden, and ask, “Do you think that’s true? Is the spirit world just an empty place now?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think anyone’s been back since you released the Ciphers. I don’t think they want to, for obvious reasons, but I don’t think they see the point, either. Before the Ciphers were put there, it was just a place to meditate and think. That’s what we’ve been told, anyway.”

We’ve been told a lot of things, though, a lot of things that aren’t true.

Chapter 21

Creative Uses

It turned out I was right about Celia being in the Creator class. Over the last month, she’s been one of the most dedicated recruits. When she’s not at the training house with us, she’s usually with her dad having him help her learn even more about healing. She was determined to be on the team with us tonight to finally collect Drake, but that sparked a huge argument between Milo and anyone who supported her. I only wanted her to come along and stay on the perimeter just in case we needed her healing abilities, which are developing rapidly, but Milo wouldn’t even agree to that.

The argument was threatening to put off the maneuver even longer than the three months it’s already been since we found out where Drake is hiding. Eventually, I had to give in and tell Celia she couldn’t come.  Knowing her brother better than anyone, she knew it was his fault and didn’t hold it against me. Milo didn’t appreciate that, and thought my caving was a sign of things to come. Not even close. I look over and smile at Braden, which he returns enthusiastically. There were some fights I just wasn’t willing to give in on. Milo pitched a fit when I suggested Braden and Lance come along. Agreeing to Lance didn’t take long once Hammond perfected being able to shield a second person. For Braden, it took what basically boiled down to a massive game of hide-and-seek where Braden was the finder trying to sneak up on people to find out if they could sense him coming with their talents. Nobody could, well almost nobody. Just like with the Inquests.

The funny thing is, I was the only one who could use any of my talents to sense him. Speed and Strength, yeah, Blackwood already proved those could be used against Braden, but those are solely internalized talents. Nobody could sense him coming. Only me. It could be just another weird thing with me being the Destroyer and the Ciphers belonging to me, but Braden wasn’t a Cipher. He isn’t even one now, not really. Ciphers always had talents. They just couldn’t access them until I unlocked them. Braden actually has no talents at all. I secretly believe it has something to do with us being Companions. Maybe that isn’t lost completely. Everyone but Milo was pretty hyped about Braden’s “Invisible Man” qualities.

The only way Braden could be affected by the external talents, the ones that require extending some part of you into the other person’s body or mind, was when the use actually caused them to physically invade him. Not a single one of them could sense his emotions from a distance or use Naturalism to track him, but they could touch his spirit, tell when he was lying, and manipulate his physical body once their talents were pushed into him. I really had no idea what to make of it, but it certainly was an interesting phenomenon. One that proved he could get into Drake’s hacienda without being detected.

Milo hasn’t brought up any of the stuff we fought about again, but his disdain from me and Braden makes it obvious he hasn’t forgotten it, either. We do our best to avoid making a display of our relationship in front of him, but it makes him angry that Braden and I go out with Lance and Hope on the rare times we aren’t neck deep in Destroyer business, but not because he’s jealous. If he even thinks I’m not paying enough attention to handing him the Guardians’ heads, the fighting starts. And Lance thought Hope was going to be worse than Milo.

Hope still spends the majority of her waking, and probably non-waking, hours hating everything about the Guardians, but I do catch her watching Lance with a smile every so often. I didn’t think anything could make that girl smile. It makes me happy. Milo couldn’t care less about Lance and Hope, but he definitely disapproves of Braden staying in my guest bedroom more nights than not. Braden has yet to repeat that first night, unfortunately, but having him close by keeps my anxiety level down at a reasonable notch. Tonight is no different.

Team members start to check in as they reach their positions. There are ten pairs, plus one new Cipher we picked up in Tampa a few weeks ago named Carlos, who happens to be a savant when it comes to electronics. He’s in charge of hacking Drake’s security feed and looping it. It sounded a little too Hollywood-easy-and-totally-fake when he first suggested it, but he tried it out on one of the malls in town and it worked perfectly. Let’s hope that goes for tonight, too.

I wasn’t so sure about having such a large number, at first. We had to fly in Ciphers from the other safe houses to even manage so many. I’m more accustomed to working with a small team of people I know very well and trust completely. Once we started going over the information about Drake’s fortress—I mean fortress literally—I had to admit that I couldn’t do this with just two or three people like we did rescuing Hope. Now, I’m not sure twenty people will be enough.

“Hey,” Braden says, slipping his arms around my waist, “everything’s going to be all right. This will work.”

“I hope so, Braden.” At least he has faith in me when it comes to this. After weeks of poking around in him to try and find something, I still haven’t a clue about how to give him back his talents. I’m going to figure it out, though.

“I feel like time is starting to eat away at me,” I say. “It took three months just to prepare for this. There’s only nine left, now. And we still have so much to do. This is only the first step. Even if we find out the rest of the prophecy, and what the Guardians are creating to fight me, are we going to have enough time to do anything about it? I’m worried that we’re going too slow.”

Braden pulls me against him until I’m leaning my whole body against his. “You’re not going too slow, Libby. You and everyone else spend nearly every waking minute thinking about ways to defeat the Guardians. Hope is already almost all the way through three decades of her grandfather’s notes on you. You’ve learned more about how the Guardians work from those notes than staring at their compound for hours on end. You’ve all been training hard as well, and that isn’t just for getting Drake. Every minute you train brings you closer to defeating them. You’re doing everything you can.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time my all wasn’t good enough.” I’m much more familiar with failure than success.

The last team checks in and Braden looks at me seriously as he tightens the straps on his pack. “This is going to work, Libby. Now, let’s go.”

There’s no point in arguing, I suppose. Either it will work, or it won’t. Either I’ll get the information I need from Drake, or we’ll all end up murdered by the Guardians. It’s time to get started. I visualize the hacienda below us as we crawl down the fifteen foot cliff face. Having only slippery sandstone to use for grip makes it a treacherous climb. When we reach the dark lava rock on the lower half of the bluff, it’s much easier to hold on, although more painful too, and we make it to the bottom without incident.

The crunch of boots on the rocks sends us to our stomachs. Our black clothes let us blend into the rock, and my Concealment does the rest. The guard passes us by. Right now, at seven other points along the perimeter of Drake’s hacienda, the other pairs are slipping into place. The remaining two teams are watching our exit, prepared to help us get away quickly if things don’t go well, and likely even if things do. As soon as the guard is out of range, Braden and I start forward with all my talents flaring.

Three other teams begin moving toward the house as well. Dean and Hope, Milo and Daniel, Kayla, Hammond, and Lance all chirp in my ear about their progress. The remaining four teams will start circling the perimeter to discreetly take care of the guards there. If things get dicey inside, I don’t want anyone left out here to raise the alarm.

Not all the guards are on the perimeter. The ones who aren’t are our prize. We cross into the light spilling out of the house unseen. Well, I do, anyway. Braden stays back. I can extend my Concealment to another person, an idea Hammond gave me that only the two of us have been able to implement so far, but it thins my own shield when I do. I leave him in the dark behind a column and stalk right up to the Seeker guarding the door.

My Concealment drops away, much to his surprise, and I punch him right in the face. His consciousness winks out, but he doesn’t need to be awake for me to use him. I tug off his glove and flatten his hand against the palm scanner on the wall. A hushed beep acknowledges the palm print, and we hear the soft click of the door unlocking. Braden pulls it open a few inches, just enough to keep the lock from reengaging without being too noticeable. It takes me a few seconds to tie the Seeker up and shove him into the space between a cabinet and bench. No one will see him right off, but they might hear him. I press two fingers against his forehead and tap my Naturalism. He falls into a deep sleep that he won’t wake from for hours.

I hope everyone else is doing the same. My orders were to leave the Guardians alive if we could. I know some of these men are as evil as Drake, but what if they aren’t? We came here tonight for Drake, not for a slaughter. I trust everyone to follow my orders but Milo. I won’t know if he doesn’t, either. Milo knows how to sink a body into the earth so no one will ever find it. I hope that on this one thing he will do as I ask and refocus my thoughts on what I’m doing.

After checking to make sure the other teams are ready to breach the house, I nod to Braden. He lets me take the lead, although I think it puts a little dent in his pride to do it. I flash him a thankful smile to make up for it and slip through the door. Braden follows, and the door clicks shut behind us. Each of the four teams inside the house has a quadrant assigned to them, and a simple mission. Clear the area of conscious individuals. I start forward, questing out with my Vision and Concealment for potential threats. Guards, staff, servants, they all end up unconscious and tied up in closets and such. The first floor is clear.

Our new Cipher, Carlos, gave us a basic idea of the floor plan before we came here tonight by discreetly breaking into the security feed very late at night a few weeks ago, but we had no way of knowing where Drake would be before we showed up. Now that Carlos has full access to the feed, he guides me through the house to a set of stairs coming off a large banquet room. The others meet us there. Milo and Daniel take up position at the base of the stairs without complaint, for once, and the rest of us troop up the stairs slowly.

Dean and Hope go to the right while Kayla, Hammond, and Lance turn left. Braden and I follow them down the longer hallway and check each adjacent room for stragglers. A few of the doors are locked, but since we don’t have time for lock picking, and I couldn’t care less whether the locks get damaged, I simply use my Naturalism to turn the locking mechanism into a blob of goo. We only find two others wandering the upstairs, a young man who looks to be some kind of assistant, and an older woman in the middle of changing a set of sheets. Both are taken care of, and we meet up with Kayla and Hammond in front of a large oak door.

This was the one portion of the house Carlos couldn’t tell us anything about. All the other rooms, even bedrooms, were set up with cameras—talk about giving out a pervert, voyeur vibe—except this one. It is a huge chunk of the upstairs floor, clearly not a bedroom, but has no security cameras at all. My guess is that whatever Drake uses this room for, he doesn’t want evidence left behind when he’s done. Not terribly encouraging, but we’re going in, anyway.

Dean and Hope come around the corner, and I ask, “Did you find any other Guardians?”

He shakes his head. “Just some guy reading in his room. Hope took care of him.”

I shake my head. Hope is amazing. Her astonishing five talents, not to mention her grandfather to teach her, makes her more valuable than most of the Ciphers, most of whom are still struggling to figure out their new abilities. The only talents she doesn’t have are Naturalism and Vision. I’m sure her grandfather was glad for the absence of Vision. She still could have become a Guardian, but at least she never would have been selected as a Seeker like he was.

“I was expecting more resistance on this floor,” Hammond says, which instantly makes me worry, because things never go this smoothly for me. “Especially if this is where Drake’s stronghold is,” he continues. “He must know we’re here by now since none of his guards are checking in with him. Whatever forces he has left are in that room with him.”

“I think you’re right, Hammond.” I know Drake’s Vision can’t have alerted him, but aside from whatever noise we might have made, guys like Drake seem to have a sixth sense for danger. I’m sure he knows we’re here. He’s waiting in there. The lack of misfortune so far plagues my mind, making me wonder what awful surprises he has in store for us.

“I have no idea how many Guardians are going to be in there with him, but just remember they don’t have the talents you do. Use your Speed and Strength, but don’t depend on it completely. They’ve had a lot longer to train their talents than you have. Use the attacks we’ve practiced, the ones they won’t be expecting, and can’t defend against. Use whatever force you think is necessary.”

That last sentence comes out a little quieter. I don’t like having to issue a command like that. It’s not that I’ve never killed anyone before, we all know that’s not the case, but I still hate the idea of taking a life. When the choice is one of the five people surrounding me or one of the Guardians, I don’t even have to consider it. I hear the click of Braden’s 9mm chambering a round behind me and flinch. It’s a reminder that the gun is his only protection, as well as the fact that you don’t need talents to kill people. My own handgun is snug in its holster on my ankle, just in case Drake is trickier than I expected. Although, after watching him kill the Seeker who failed to stop us at the compound, I think it’s a safe bet that anybody we run into in there will be pretty heavily armored. Drake is much smarter than Blackwood.

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath, “let’s get this over with. Everyone be careful and make sure Drake stays alive long enough to answer some questions.”

It only takes a quick check with my Naturalism to figure out the door isn’t even locked. Everyone takes their positions. I yank the door open and drop to my knee. The blast of talent-stealing energy hits me and steals my focus. One hand drops to the ground to steady me as panic streaks through my veins. A second later my hand is swept out from under me and my shoulder and head slap against the hardwood floor. The scent of varnish fills my nostrils and makes my head hurt even worse than it already did. It does help clear some of the haze from my head, though. I can think clearly enough to know we’re all going to die if I don’t do something fast.

Through wavering vision, I can see Hope writhing on the ground just behind me, looking more furious than usual. I worried Drake would pull something like what there was in the dungeon, but this is so much worse. Someone’s grabs my shoulders and starts dragging me away. A shot rings through the air and I drop back to the floor. Braden. He has no talents. He’s perfectly fine! Maybe that thought should make me hopeful, but it doesn’t. He can’t take on a room full of Seekers. They’ll crush him under their heel. My eyes catch Hope’s again and I’m shocked to see the clarity in them. Her fingers inch under her body, readying to push her back up at the right moment.

I’m such an idiot. Drake can’t steal talents, that’s my department. He’s only disrupting them. My eyes close for a second. I focus all my energy on digging up the fury and hate I harbor for this man. The fire of my emotions push me to connect with Perception first, then the rest of my warbling talents. The talents doubled by stealing Braden’s rebound the best. I’m nowhere near what I should be, but it has to be enough. Searching the room, I spot Braden doing his best to stay ahead of the armored fists and legs that will smash his body to pieces. He’s a little too slow and gets clipped on the shoulder. The blow spins him around, making him stumble back toward me. I meet his eyes and give one simple command.

He drops to his stomach and I leap up over him, my shoulder blasting the air out of the nearest Seeker’s lungs, despite his body armor, and carrying us into the group behind him. I can hear Hope rushing in after me, and I think the others are as well, but I don’t stop to coordinate with them. The Seeker I landed on is wheezing from a punctured lung. He won’t be getting back up. Shots sound all over the room, but very few are doing any damage. Snapping my feet under me, I spring up and send my heel into the next one’s nose. Blood gushes down his face. The wound doesn’t stop him from lunging back at me. I let him come, lifting my arms to catch his head as he tries to ram me. I use his own momentum against him and snap his neck as I throw him to the ground.

A booted foot slams into my side. I barely keep myself from falling over by grabbing his ankle. I pull him forward and grip his head between my hands. My weakened Spiritualism responds to my call and I thrust it into his body, grabbing his own spirit and flinging it away. His body goes limp and falls to the floor under the forced lapse into unconsciousness. I stumble back up and immediately spot Braden still on his feet. I hold onto my relief for later and grab another Seeker diving for me. He gets a dose of my Concealment, snapping a globe of shielding around his head so he can’t see or hear anything. Taking him down after that is child’s play.

Creative uses of our talents, even as reduced as they are, let us slowly overcome the surprised Seekers one by one until the last one is slammed into the ground. Adrenaline pulls me back up quickly, faster than anyone else. Well, anyone but Braden. I turn to find him pinning Drake to the ground with his knee. How did he even manage to take Drake down? The guy looks fragile, sure, but he’s a Seeker! There’s no way that should have happened. More important, though, is the muzzle of the gun Braden’s shoving against Drake’s head. His finger starts to squeeze.

“Braden, no!” I scream.

He freezes, but doesn’t pull back. I can see the veins in his neck and head pulsing against his skin, filled with more hatred than I ever expected to find there. Everyone else in the room has stopped moving. Their eyes are all trained on Braden. Only Dean quietly edges forward, ready to stop Braden if he doesn’t get a hold of himself in time. Milo’s going to love this. I can hear the “I told you so” already.

“Braden, please. We need him. You know how much we need him,” I beg.

Braden’s fingers tighten around the grip of the 9mm, and Lance takes another step forward. I have no idea what Braden’s doing. He looks positively possessed, glaring at Drake hard enough to eat right through his skull. Everyone in the room is holding their breath. This whole operation, three months of work will all be ruined if Braden pulls the trigger. I’m having such a hard time breathing, I’m afraid I might pass out soon. My hands are shaking while the end of the gun stays completely still on Drake’s head. My gaze slides down the length of the gun and inadvertently finds Drake’s face. His blank expression puzzles me.

He’s literally about to die, and he looks like he might be reading the Sunday paper. My distress makes it even harder to get a firm grip on my Perception, but I toss it at Drake as soon as I have it in hand. Acceptance, superiority, satisfaction, and a large dose of disbelief, they pool around him peacefully. Understanding hits me. Drake wants this. He never expected to fail against me, but he did, and death is preferable to falling into my hands. He wants Braden to kill him.

“Braden, what did he say to you? What’s going on?” I ask.

Finally, Braden’s eyes leave Drake’s head and snap up to mine. “He’s the one who made me try to kill you.”

Chapter 22

Death House

I don’t understand. Braden has seen Drake before, at his house and in the picture I took. He’s never reacted like this. It’s not like he’s just now realizing that Drake is the one who forced the Oath to kill me on him. He never told me about that, but I don’t see why he’s freaking out, now. I’ve never seen him like this. I’m certain he’s going to kill him if I don’t figure out a way to stop him. That’s not Braden, though. Yes, he’ll kill to protect someone else, but he’s not vindictive or eager to take lives. His reaction seems wildly out of character.

Drake’s eyes close and his jaw tightens very slightly, like he’s concentrating on something. What on earth is he … Braden. Understanding dawns like a flash of white hot electric heat. “Braden, Drake’s manipulating you. Don’t do this, please. He must have another talent. He must be a Spiritualist. He’s trying to get you to kill him. He knows I’ll drag his secrets out of him. Drake wants you to end his life before I get the information we need.”

“I don’t care, Libby. He deserves to die,” Braden snaps.

“Maybe so, but not yet. Braden, please. If you kill him, everything we’ve worked for over the last few months will be for nothing. We need him,” I say, taking a hesitant step forward. Braden doesn’t react, so I step closer. “If you kill him, you’ll be giving him what he wants. He wants to take the easy way out, Braden. Don’t let him have it.”

Braden’s brow scrunches in confusion as he tries to pit what I’m saying against whatever Drake is shoving into his head. His fingers loosen on the grip then tighten again, pressing the muzzle against Drake’s head more firmly. Drake is so close to getting what he wants. I can feel his satisfaction more clearly. He’s ramping up Braden’s anger at him in order to get him to pull the trigger, but if anger and revenge are what’s guiding Braden’s thoughts right now, I can use that, too.

“Braden,” I say calmly, “if you really want to punish Drake for what he did to you, don’t kill him, give him to me. He’s not going to like what I’m going to do to him. Remember when I found out about the prophecy from you? It wasn’t pleasant, but I was being very careful with you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I won’t be careful with Drake. I’ll push as hard as I have to. I’ll make him beg me to kill him just to make the pain stop. He’ll wish he could give up every secret he has to me by the end. If you want him to suffer, don’t give him a clean death.”

Finally, Braden pulls the gun back. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s cut off by Drake screaming out his frustration and throwing Braden off of him. Startled, I don’t react fast enough. Drake lunges at Braden. Too fast to stop, Drake’s fist cracks into Braden’s skull, dropping him like a jellyfish. His fingers scrabble for the gun that fell out of Braden’s hand. I shake off my surprise and dive at him. My hand knocks the gun away from both of us, but the movement costs me the upper hand. Drake’s still empty hand curls back at me, locking around my throat. I can hear the others moving in the room, coming to help, but they seem to be moving in slow motion. I glance over at Braden and see him stir sluggishly before turning back to my attacker, trying to reach the gun on my ankle.

Drake is stronger than I would have given his slight frame credit for. With the interference still raging, I struggle to get his arm off of me. His other hand flashes in toward my neck. The glint of something sharp and shiny sticking out from the edge of his watch speeds toward my throat. My thrashing doubles as I try to get away from the poisoned dart. Hammond appears in front of me, suddenly, his hand reaching down to grab Drake’s.

“No, Hammond! Don’t!” I scream, but my words don’t register in time. His hand closes around Drake’s wrist.

Hammond jerks his hand back, and I can see the tiny ruby-colored drop on his palm. Drake’s own surprise that his poison didn’t reach either me or him slackens his grip. I slip my elbow free and ram it into his temple. He lolls to the side as Hammond’s knees buckle and Kayla screams. Dean and Lance reach me and help secure the stunned Drake. I warn them about the dart before stumbling over to Hammond.

“Hammond?” Kayla cries. “What happened? Hammond, look at me!”

My hands grip his wrist and I thrust my Naturalism into him. I wait for the flood of sensory information I usually get when I try to heal a wound, but all I get is a trickle of pain and toxin. “Damn it, the interference! Kayla, we have to get him out of the room. Help me!”

She’s sobbing and a total wreck, but she grabs his arm and helps me tug him toward the door. He’s a big guy, and neither of us can access our Strength completely. Dragging him across the floor seems to take an eternity even when Hope rushes in to help. I can feel his pulse growing fainter. It is almost completely gone by the time we get him into the hall. We collapse next to him as soon as we’re clear of the interference and both of us latch onto him and pour our talents into his body.

Kayla gasps as she feels her lover’s life slipping away. I grit my teeth and focus everything on his body. I can’t hold in my own sob as the information bounces back at me. The toxin has already sped its way through his veins. They’re disintegrating as I hold him, blood losing its track and spilling into the rest of his tissues. I race to stop it, slow the pace, repair the damage, but it’s already too late. The toxin flows into his heart and starts ripping it apart. Nothing I can do is enough to stop it. His life slips away quietly in the midst of Kayla’s agony.

Grief wells inside of me at the sight of Hammond’s motionless body, but another emotion more intense pulls me up from the floor and turns me back toward Drake. I storm into the room, barely even noticing that the interference has stopped, and yank him out of Dean’s grip. My fingers lock around his throat and slam him down on the desk he was poised so calmly behind just a few minutes ago. His head rebounds against the wood and smacks back down a second time. His eyes lose their focus for a second, realigning only to meet mine a bare inch away. For the first time, emotion creeps into his controlled visage. Fear widens his pupils until his baby blues are almost completely engulfed.

“I’d kill you right now for what you just did if I didn’t believe what I told Braden,” I say with sheer fury. “Death is too good for you. I’ll get the information I want from you, and I’ll make you pay dearly for it. And after I get what I want, I’ll use every one of my talents to make sure you understand just how despicable and evil you are. How’s it going to feel when I dredge up your memories of the people you’ve tortured and killed and make you relive them a dozen times? And if that doesn’t work, I’ll find memories of the people you loved and make you watch them die over and over again, because there’s no way you don’t have at least one loved one you’ve lost.”

Drake goes completely pale, and I know I’ve hit the right nerve. Awful, furious desire to hurt him rages in me.

“Who was it, Drake? A parent, like me? A sibling? Or maybe a woman?” I ask slowly.

His frozen exterior cracks. The slightest hint of moisture in his eyes betrays him. I have no compassion for him at all. He lost his lover, well, that’s what he tried to do to me. He tried to make me kill the man I loved. I don’t think he ever expected Braden to succeed. I think he knew I would be too strong, that I would be forced to kill him. Sending Braden was a new way to torture me, break me down by making me murder him.

I slam his shoulders against the desk again and hiss, “I guess we’ll see how many times you can watch her die before you wish you’d never heard my name, Drake. And then, when you’re so broken you’ll never be able to put yourself back together, if you’re really lucky, that’s when I’ll kill you.”

He doesn’t even try to move when I let go of him. Hope is there, though, to take over guarding Drake. She nods at me approvingly. When I turn around, I don’t get the same from Dean and Lance, or a bleeding Braden. They all stare at me in shock. My chin starts to tremble, but I don’t let any tears fall.

“Hammond’s dead,” I say stiffly.

Dean bows his head and shakes it slowly. Lance’s hands tighten into fists. Maybe now he understands my threats against Drake. We had all become good friends with Hammond. He was dedicated and talented, creative to the point of brilliance, and funnier than anyone I know. Dean and Lance turn away wordlessly and move to help Hope with Drake. Braden is still standing in the same place, staring at nothing. The hand that was pressed against his bleeding head a moment ago has fallen slack at his side, dripping blood on the carpet.

“Milo was right,” he says quietly, “I never should have come. I’m a liability, Libby. It’s my fault Hammond is dead. I caused this. I didn’t have any talents to stop him from manipulating me. I didn’t even know he was doing it. I killed Hammond.”

I grab his chin and force him to look at me. “Stop it, Braden. This isn’t your fault. It isn’t even Drake’s, not directly anyway. He was trying to get either me or him. I don’t think he cared which. Hammond just tried to help me and touched the barb. It was an accident.”

“An accident that never would have happened if I hadn’t been standing there with a gun to Drake’s head. If I’d been able to block him, I would have captured him and none of this would have happened,” Braden argues.

“None of us had any substantial talents, Braden. He could have done it to anyone. You were just the first to get to him, which is incredible anyway. We’d probably all be dead if it weren’t for you. When that blast of interference hit us, we were all on the floor. It took me forever to get up. You held the Seekers off until we could all get back on our feet. Without you, we would have been plucked up one by one and had our throats slit,” I say. “Please don’t blame yourself for Hammond. It wasn’t your fault. He knew the risks of coming on this mission. We all did.”

The sound of Kayla’s sobbing drifts through the door and Braden flinches. I take his hand and pull him after me. Dean and Hope are dragging a very tightly bound Drake down the hallway, and I’m surprised to find Milo and Daniel coming toward us. They must have heard the struggling and crying. They take in Hammond’s body and slow. Daniel’s weathered face falls and his hands start shaking. He’s known Hammond longer than any of us. Milo looks taken aback as well, but his reaction is nothing like Daniel’s. His eyes snap to Braden without anyone having to tell him what happened.

“I told you it was a mistake to bring him!” His whole body tightens in fury. “Look at what’s happened because of him. You never should have let him come!”

I can’t stop myself. I thrust an accusing finger at him and say, “If you’d let Celia come, she might have been able to save his life! She’s the best healer we have and you refused to let her help. Don’t start blaming other people when you’re just as much at fault.”

He steps forward, the threat clear in his expression. Dean and Daniel cut him off immediately, but Daniel’s gentle voice is what really holds him back.

“Milo, Libby, we need to get out of here. The guards we left alive are going to wake up and start causing problems.”

Everyone looks down at Hammond. The sight of his body, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth, stifles some of Milo’s anger. He makes a sudden move forward to help carry him. Kayla is too upset to do anything, right now. Someone may have to carry her, as well. I stoop to help pick up Hammond’s body, but Braden stops me.

“Let me, please,” he asks.

I nod sadly, ignoring Milo’s accusing stare, and move to help Kayla up instead. Braden’s arms slip under Hammond’s body and heft his large frame with more struggling than it would have taken me. Milo watches without speaking. I will not let him use this against Braden. This wasn’t Braden’s fault, and I’ll defend him to the end. Maybe Milo realizes that. Finally, he looks away and starts leading everyone out of this death house. More than a few tears join the footfalls as we reach the first floor.

“Whoa, is that guy dead?”

I nearly drop Kayla in shock. “Jen? What are you doing here?”

“We found her sneaking around the perimeter,” one of the men guarding her says. He holds up a camera and cell phone. “Caught her with these.”

Of course they did. “How did you even know where we were?”

She tries to shrug off the two guys holding her. Their hands clamp down on her arms even tighter, making her wince. “How do you think I found you, Libby? I followed you. I knew you were planning something. Who is that guy?” she asks, pointing to Drake.

“Nobody say a word to her, and keep your thoughts guarded,” I command. Not that anyone looked like they were going to give anything away, but just in case. The problem is, even guarding your thoughts can’t block her completely. I’m sure my mom has been teaching her all kinds of ways to get information. My resigned sigh is more for how tired I already feel than for Jen. I hand Kayla off to the nearest person and approach my former best friend. Her eyes widen in fear and anticipation. Well, here’s what she gets for her efforts.

My elbow cracks against her skull and her eyes roll back in her head. I look up at her guards and say, “Tie her up, blindfold her, and keep yourselves shielded. She’s a Concealer. If you have to, knock her out again. Just don’t let her get any more information than she already has. I’ll deal with her later.”

They nod and haul her outside. With the disaster I was waiting for already met, and another near one temporarily averted, the escape goes through without a problem. None of the guards wake back up, and none of the Seekers made it through the battle upstairs alive. We all make it back to the cars and carry our friend, and our enemy, back to the training house in silence.

There are only a few more members of our group waiting for us there, but our arrival sets off a flurry of activity, mostly due to Hammond’s body being brought in. I dismiss most of the strike team to help Kayla with arrangements for Hammond. An unconscious Jen is taken away to a spare bedroom to sleep off the massive headache I’ve given her. Only Braden, Lance, Milo, and Hope follow me and my prisoner down to the basement already prepared for him.

Milo and Hope are more than happy to get him strapped into the chair that has been secured to the floor in the center of the room. Lance and Braden aren’t so quick to leave me alone, not after what they heard me threaten to do. Braden is the first to speak.

“Libby, you’re not really going to do the things you said you would, are you?”

“Why? Don’t you think he deserves it?” I ask.

Braden scoffs, his expression dark. “He deserves to burn in Hell for eternity.”

“Then why are you concerned about him?”

“We’re not concerned about him,” Lance says. “We’re concerned about you, about what torturing him will do to you.”

“You’re angry now, but later on, once you’ve had time to calm down, you may feel differently. You’re not a vindictive person. Don’t make it pleasant for him, by any means, but think about it before you do anything worse.”

I look at them both with a calm expression and say, “I won’t let these monsters take any more of my friends. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get the information I need.”

Chapter 23

Wreckage

When they resist, it’s always harder. Drake has no Concealment or Perception of his own to battle mine, but he doesn’t need them to fight me. All he needs is steel determination, directing his thoughts to pointless topics, burying what I want to know. Both of the talents I’m using plunge into his memories with razor sharpness and purge everything I can find. Childhood memories that mean nothing to me, banal remembrances of meals or conversations, he keeps throwing them at me in an attempt to hide what I really want. Keeping my temper reigned in while I sift through everything isn’t easy. I’m about two seconds away from slapping the teeth right out of his jaw.

I slice into another memory and shred its contents. Nothing. Another dozen memories are exactly the same. My fingernails are digging into his skin as I try to control my desire to hurt him more than I already am. The pain of my nails is nothing compared to the agony I’m putting him through by trampling around in his mind. Every memory invaded sends a spike of fire through his body, each one I burst and toss away, a spasm, as if I’ve torn away a piece of his flesh. I know how much it hurts to have your talents stolen, from both sides of the ritual, and I’d do it if I thought it would help me and not sap me of my remaining strength.

The slight pressure of someone’s hand on my shoulder barely registers with my senses. Only when it runs soothingly up to my neck do I recognize Braden’s touch and pull my talents back in. Drake sags in relief. I have to force myself to turn away from him. I can’t stand seeing anything close to a good feeling on his face. I don’t quite get him out of my field of vision. Braden brings me the rest of the way.

“Hey, take a break for a minute. You’re going to break yourself at this rate,” Braden says. His hands try to slip around me, but I push them away.

“No, I can’t give him a break. He’ll think he’s winning if I let up.” I can’t give him even a second of satisfaction.

Braden shakes his head and says, “Milo’s got it, just stop for a few minutes. You look like you’re about to drop. I sent Lance up to get you a drink and something to eat.”

I’ve spread around so much power and emotional energy tonight. I know I’m pushing my limits, but I don’t want to stop. I’m afraid of stopping. Letting Drake get the upper hand is out of the question. Determined to get back to work, I reach up to push Braden’s hand away. The tremor running through my arm makes me stop.

“Take a break,” Braden says firmly. “The last thing you want is a repeat of what happened after you broke your block. You still react to the cold even now, almost a year later, and you couldn’t go back into the spirit world for weeks after that. Do you really want to be unable to reach your talents for weeks, or longer? You need to rest.”

“Fine,” I say glumly. The idea of trying to keep myself alive without talents terrifies me enough to give in. Once I resign myself to stopping and let my power drift away, I realize just how hungry I am. A few minutes later when Lance steps back into the room, I grab the food and soda from him and don’t even notice someone is with him until I’m nearly finished with my sandwich. Celia is staring at her brother and how Drake is bucking against the chair because of whatever Milo’s doing to him. I worry for a moment that he might be going too far. I need Drake alive long enough to give me the information I want. I need to deal with Celia before I dive back in.

“Celia, what are you doing down here?” I ask, glaring at Lance for letting her see this.

“I … I wanted to know how things were going,” she says. She has to peel her eyes away from Milo. When she does, she focuses them intently on me, trying not to let them go back. “Have you gotten anything yet?”

“Not yet. He’s strong. He keeps filling his mind with memories I don’t care about, making me push through them first. It’s wearing me out.”

Celia’s face scrunches up, but I’m not sure why. Not until she speaks. “Why don’t you just hypnotize him? That’s what my mom does when she has a really difficult patient.”

“Hypnotize him? Celia, hypnotism is just a parlor trick. I don’t even know how to do it,” I say. I look to Braden for an explanation. Maybe the Guardians have used this technique before? He shrugs.

“No, I’m not talking about what party magicians do, that’s just a silly trick. I’m talking about using your Spiritualism to put his conscious mind into stasis while you look through his subconscious. He’s not completely asleep, but he’s not able to interfere with what you’re doing for a while, either,” she explains. “Psychiatrists use it for people who’ve been through really bad traumas they don’t want to remember, like being a victim of a crime. When you hypnotize them, you can see what they remember and help them figure out what happened. It’s pretty invasive and painful so they only use it in extreme cases, but I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say you’re not too concerned about hurting Drake at this point.”

Her eyes slide back to Milo. I can see her jaw tighten, but I can’t really say anything to her to make her feel better about it. We have to get the information. His pain doesn’t matter to me. Hammond’s pain, the horrible agony he went through those last few minutes of his life, that’s the pain I care about, the pain I am determined to stop. Drake could erupt in spontaneous flames right this second and I wouldn’t try to put him out, well, not if I had the information I needed.

“Celia, you really think this will work?” I ask. She nods. “How do I do it?”

She frowns as she thinks. “I’m not that good with Spiritualism yet, and I’ve never tried this, but my mom explained it once. If I can’t get it right we can call her. She said you have to isolate all the conscious spirit, like thought, controlled movement, desires, emotions, and things like that. You separate them from the unconscious spirit, the part that usually goes to the spirit world, and wrap them up in a bundle of spiritual energy and push it away from the body. She said it’s like when you try to manipulate someone, only more forceful. Does that make sense?”

I have to think about that. Spiritualism is by far my weakest talent, not by power, just by how well I can use it. What abilities I have developed with it are mainly connected with the spirit world, too. I hate the idea of manipulating people and haven’t spent a whole lot of time perfecting it. Thinking of the process takes me a minute. To manipulate someone you have to touch the part of their spirit that you want to change. Once you’ve located it, you have to use that center of influence to guide the person toward the choice you think they should make. It’s what Drake did to Braden tonight. He found the part of Braden’s spirit that hates him and pulled and stretched it until it threatened to consume him.

This part of Spiritualism is closely related to Perception, but with Perception you can only sense the emotions themselves, not feel or doing anything to their origin, because thoughts and emotions have too deep of roots and reasons that stem from your spirit that only another spirit can access them. I think I understand what Celia means, though. Rather than simply nudging a spirit in a direction, I have to capture the origin of his conscious mind entirely and push it far enough away from the rest of the spirit that the two sections can’t interact. The conscious mind will reel itself back in eventually, but not right away. If it works, it will give me the time I need.

“Celia,” I say, “have I ever told you how brilliant you are?”

She forgets the scene behind her and flashes me her usual electric smile. This is the second time her amazing wit has set me on the right path. Redoing Milo’s Inquest was her idea, and set us up for discovering a big chunk of the truth we’d been missing. Time to uncover the rest. I down the rest of my sandwich and hand the empty Dr. Pepper can back to Braden feeling a million times better.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asks.

I kiss him with enthusiasm to spare and nod.

His lips brush against mine one more time, lingering next to my skin as he says, “All right, then. Be careful, please.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem to mind having to warm me back up last time,” I say so only he can hear me. He just smirks and pushes me away, back toward Drake. My playfulness subsides immediately.

I motion for Milo to move away. He backs off and lets his power fall away from Drake, who shudders and sinks into his chair with his eyes still closed. I give him a moment to think that maybe we’ve given up. When he looks convinced that his torment is over, I stalk over to him and settle my hands on either side of the chair he’s sitting in. My mouth moves right next to his ear.

“I hope you enjoyed your little break, Drake, but we’re only getting started. Now is when it really starts to hurt,” I say. His eyes snap open to glare at me. Behind the anger is the fear that’s growing stronger by the minute. He’s bending, if not breaking. I just have to hope he goes before I do. This is going to work. It has to.

I thrust my Spiritualism back into his body and start rounding everything up. He fights when I snatch his emotions—mainly fear—and go after his desire to wrap his hands around my neck. His awareness of his body’s aches and injuries go next. I’d pass them by if I could, but they’re a link I can’t leave behind. All of the sensory information his body is giving him gets tangled up with the rest of it, leaving only his conscious thoughts. His spirit bucks against me, trying desperately to throw me out of him. I sink myself in even deeper and hold on through his thrashing and yelling. The second his fight starts to fade, I send my spirit in and swallow him up. Satisfaction so deep it thrums inside of me doubles when I finally fling his conscious spirit away from his body.

My body shudders with the effort, and I find myself leaning heavily against the chair. It takes a few precious seconds before I can push myself back. Braden is hovering nearby, his worry a vague pressure against my mind. I want to let him pull me away so I can rest. I think he was more right than he knew about how close I am to my limit. My Naturalism and Strength are struggling to keep up with the demands I’m putting on my body. Rest has to wait. I’m not done with Drake, yet.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I get a firm grip on my Perception and dive right in.

Finding what I need is a million times easier this way. It’s like I’m floating through a storm of bubbles. The unprotected memories drift by like clouds, while the dozens of secrets and promises bounce through the air like a child’s toy. It’s stunning, beautiful in its own way, except that I know the bubbles are only hiding the evil that fills this man. There are so many. Dozens, maybe hundreds, are promises made to keep secret his terrible acts. I shudder in the face of so many unspeakable deeds. More than a small part of me doesn’t want to find out what they’re hiding, but I force myself to push into the nearest one.

Drake’s semiconscious body jerks as I stab his promises one by one. I make quick work of scanning each one and moving on to the next. Some are harmless, promises made to a friend or lover in the earlier years after his Inquest, before he was poisoned by the Guardians. More often than anyone else, the promises are made to a single young woman, Audrey. He reacts the most when I touch on those memories. It’s hard to see him kissing her and promising to love her forever knowing what he is now. I can’t believe he was ever good or kind, but anyone can change under the right pressures.

I learn that Drake was behind a particularly vicious attack on President Howe recently, an attempt to steal his power and title. Only careful stepping got Drake out alive and cloaked in false innocence. As the memories grow more recent, the darker they become. I get out of each one as quickly as I can.

I’m not sure if it’s been minutes or hours by the time I reach what I want. I’m almost too exhausted to even recognize it. Only that strangely empty grey room catches my attention enough to perk me up. It’s the same room Braden was taken to when he was initiated as a full Guardian. This is where he learned about Idris’s prophecy, the one that I didn’t get all of. I watch in fascination as Drake enters the room looking significantly younger than he does now. He sits down at the desk and an older man approaches him. Neither one speaks. The older man simply lays down a new Guardian Blade, flipping it over to show a second emblem on the other side. The typical signs for Speed and Strength bow in submission to an open, staring eye.

My excitement boils over. This is it. He’s being inducted into the highest order of his brotherhood, the Prime Seekers, the ones trusted enough to hold their secret symbol and not reveal it to anyone. This is where he’ll be given the rest of the prophecy. It has to be. Alongside the blade, the man sets down a single sheet of paper. I read every word.

Words of Idris, Prime Seeker, 1257 BC

Her birth will be the beginning of our destruction,

An unseen threat to everything we are.

Power and Talent greater than anything seen by this world will blossom in her hands.

Alone, she will unlock the deadly secrets of this age.

Her assault will begin slowly,

One small prick, one gained asset,

But will grow to a raging onslaught.

Her might will slice into our ranks where we think we are safest.

One will try to take everything from her and fail,

But she will learn the secret of his betrayal.

She will learn the value of destruction, of gathering power,

And will turn it against us.

We cannot stop her, not alone.

She will steal our brothers, take their power.

We must do the same.

One of her own will be her downfall.

Unrestricted, Cassia the Destroyer will be the end of our world.

She will unravel the purity of our work and turn society against us.

Our power will be lost forever, unless we seize all control first,

Break the laws of Power and transform this world into one she can never save.

This is our mission,

Our legacy,

Our lives.

Kill the Destroyer, the anathema to our perfection.

I pull out of the memory, breathless and frightened. There is so much more, so much hidden from every Guardian who thinks they’re fighting on the right side. My body is trembling, and I can sense Braden’s concern growing thicker by the moment. He’ll pull me away if he thinks he needs to. I can’t let him take me yet. There’s still more. One line of the prophecy has lodged itself into my mind. We must do the same. I have already taken their brothers, stolen their talents, and even turned one to my side. Idris told them they had to do the same. Mr. Walters warned me. He said they could make worse things out of Ciphers than Sihirs. What are they doing to them?

Speeding through another batch of promises, I search until my Perception is quavering just as much as my physical body. Desperate, I lunge for the next memory and sink into it. Anguish envelops me completely. I stagger under the blow. My mind and body reel as the scene wavers around me. I can’t get up. Forcing myself to focus, I watch everything from the floor.

The tiny room is crowded. They all clamor around a table, around something on the table. I can’t see past them from where I sit. Only when a hand falls limply from the edge of the table do I understand what they’re looking at. The hand is the person’s right one, the weathered skin showing his age, but the smooth flesh of the wrist naming him a Cipher. Some reserve of strength I didn’t know I had hauls me up from the floor. I stumble over to the table and peer through an empty spot at the beleaguered Cipher lying there. His eyes are glazed, but terrified. Hands press in on him and he screams. Incredible power slams into the room. I can’t tell what’s happening to him. Memories don’t let my talents work like they do in real life. I’m limited to whatever the person holding the memory experienced. Drake is merely observing the torture of this poor man.

All I know is that these are all Guardians, but every talent aside from Vision is being used. They’re doing something to him, tearing out or putting in. His body writhes on the table, and at some point he stops screaming—not because it doesn’t hurt anymore, but because his throat can’t produce the sounds. I watch helplessly as more and more power is poured into him. Drake stands to the side with a pleased look on his smug, perfect face. He’s not part of the ritual, so he keeps his own talents tightly hidden so they don’t interfere with whatever travesty he’s instigating.

When the man’s face goes completely slack and his eyes lose all glimmer of humanity, I feel a rush of thankfulness, believing his suffering is finally over. I couldn’t be more wrong. One final flare of power, and the Guardians move back. They wait, their eyes never leaving the still form on the table. Their anticipation gleams hungrily in their eyes. One finger twitches, his foot, his arm. In a great lurching effort, the man sits up, but he’s not a man anymore. His dead eyes stare right through me, chilling me while the Guardians congratulate themselves.

Drake silences them at once. They aren’t finished yet. He wants proof that they were successful. One of the Guardians who destroyed the man nods eagerly and starts giving their creation commands. I watch in horror as the once-Cipher demonstrates his ability to use all six of the talents Ciphers are capable of using. Terror squeezes me so tightly I can’t breathe. This can’t be true. I can’t believe they did this. It isn’t possible.

Such pain and agony, such tremendous power, all to destroy a life and create a monster to defeat me. Idris told them what to do, and they did it. They found a way to turn my own people against me. They never could have done it by coercion, so they did it by sheer force. Bile rises in my throat, but the memory evaporates before I lose it. I slip back into the field of promises, desperate to get out. I start pulling my Perception back, but a singular bubble stops me.

Not every promise is the same. The dedication to keeping it a secret makes it either strong or weak. The prophecy and whatever I just witnessed were dozens of times more difficult to puncture than the ones offhandedly made to friends. This promise makes those look like real bubbles that might burst with one touch. The sheer impenetrability of this promise draws me to it. I’m almost spent. Braden is on the verge of yanking me back whether I want to go or not, but I can’t leave this promise alone. I might never get another chance. I can already feel Drake’s conscious spirit barreling its way back to me.

He’s close. I should pull back. But I need to know. Still, I hesitate for just a moment, long enough for Drake’s conscious mind to catch back up with his body. He flings himself toward me, desperate to stop me. That makes my decision much easier. Gathering up all my anger, disgust, and fury at what Drake has done, I ram my Perception into the memory with such force it implodes in on itself, the backlash shattering every promise he ever made like they were tissue paper, and sucking us both in with the rest of the wreckage.

Chapter 24

Redemption

“Here are your orders,” a man says, handing a folder to a much younger Drake.

Drake scans the file’s contents and flips it closed. “Only an address? No name? Where’s the rest of the information?”

“That’s it,” the man says. “Go get the Cipher, kill the one hiding him, and report back to me when you’re done. Same routine as always. What does it matter whether you have a name for the traitor? Name or no name, they’re going to be dead by the end of the day.”

Suspicion rings in Drake’s thoughts, but he doesn’t voice it. I get the feeling he never does. I watch as he salutes his superior and strides away purposefully. That hint of deception bothers him all the way to the ground level of the compound. The rest of his team is waiting for him in the garage. It’s a small group, only three other men and one woman, but the fierce edge to their movements makes it obvious they don’t need anyone else. Few words are exchanged before they all pile into the SUV. The rest of the team gets even less information than Drake did.

The car is quiet as they fly down the road at a maniacal speed. I ride along with them, wondering where the older Drake has gone. I’ve never been sucked into a memory with another person. Does he see everything through his younger self’s eyes, or is he hiding somewhere, refusing to watch? If he’s trying to hide, I really don’t think that’s going to work. I hope he’s stuck inside the Drake driving the car, for my sake. Thoughts of Drake’s whereabouts vanish as the car rolls to a stop. I look around me at the towering pines and aspens. The ground crunches as the team steps out onto the dried pine needles littering the forest floor.

“The cabin is half a mile down the trail,” Drake says. “Sam and Ellen, you head west then split up when you get close to the cabin and cover the rear exit and side of the house. Phil and I will move in from the east. Nobody approaches the cabin until we’re all in place. If you spot any civilians in the open, do not engage them unless you think they are going to raise an alarm. I’d rather not have this turn into a hostage situation. Questions?”

The other three members remain silent. Drake signals the beginning of the operation and everyone moves out. I follow Drake through the trees, watching as intently as he does for a glimpse of the cabin they’re about to attack. The red paneled roof is the first thing we see. It grows quickly as their pace hastens, the scent of smoke becoming stronger as well. When we cross into the cleared area around the cabin, Drake’s warning about engaging anyone becomes unneeded. The yard is empty. Sounds from inside the cabin make it clear that it is not. Drake is alone now, and moves across the ground in a crouch with his blade ready. He pauses to signal to the other two members of his team. They all move in on the house with practiced coordination.

My heart rate starts jumping. This was years before I was born, but knowing that the Cipher in there is about to be taken has me itching to jump in and intervene. All I can do is watch. The door goes flying in under Drake’s boot. Screams from inside pull me in after them. I rush in expecting to see Drake strangling someone or tackling a Cipher to the ground. Him standing slack-jawed in the middle of the room with his blade hanging loosely in his hands catches me off guard.

“Audrey?” he says.

I immediately recognize the name from the other memories I attacked today. This is the girl he fell in love with, the one he made a dozen different promises to. Every time I touched on one of the memories of Audrey, Drake had reacted viciously. I have the feeling this one memory is the reason why. My gaze jumps over to Drake’s lost love.

“Drake?” she asks. “What are you doing here?”

She looks just as shocked as he does. Seconds drag out to eternity as they stare at each other. Drake’s blade falters, and I think he’s going to drop it. That’s before he sees the other man in the room, the one he came to collect. The Cipher is cowering in the corner by the fireplace.

Drake’s eyes narrow and snap back to Audrey. “You? You’re the one hiding the Cipher?”

She doesn’t answer. She just looks over at the man she has been helping. Their eyes meet, but there’s really nothing she can say or do that will convince him everything is going to be all right. That doesn’t stop her from trying, though. “Drake, please. You don’t have to take him.”

“What?” Drake demands. “I don’t have to take him? Wow, Audrey, thank you for telling me that. I had no idea it was my choice. How about I just hand over my blade and sit down to tea with you and your pet?”

Terrified as she is, Drake’s sarcastic tone instantly sets her face into a scowl. “Don’t talk to me like that, Drake. You do have a choice. You know this isn’t right. Alan doesn’t deserve this!”

“Alan? Alan? Is that his name? Just how concerned are you about Alan, Audrey? Is there more than one reason you two are alone out here in the forest?” His jealousy and bitterness literally drip from every word.

“No,” she snaps, “but even if it were, it wouldn’t be any of your business. You made your choice, remember? You left me for your brothers. They were more important to you than I was.”

He stomps over to her and gets right in her face. “My choice? That’s a laugh, Audrey. You gave me an ultimatum, give up my career, my life’s work, or you would walk away. You didn’t care about what I wanted or what I believed. You thought I was wrong, and the price for your love was me turning my back on my beliefs. How was that fair, Audrey!”

“I didn’t ask you to change what you believed in, Drake. I asked you to make the right choice. You know taking Ciphers is wrong. They don’t deserve to be locked up like cattle. You know that,” Audrey begs.

She steps closer to Drake and attempts to reach out for him. Almost, he gives in. His hand twitches, moves the slightest bit toward her. His longing for her touch pushes him to take back his choice, to grab her and run away from everything and everyone. The pull to follow orders is too strong. He pulls his hand back and shakes his head.

“Drake, please,” she asks again, reaching for his hand. Her fingers close around his so quickly. She’s as fast as any Guardian. Her grip is strong as well. She has the talents to be a Guardian, but she obviously chose another path. That reminder seems to register with Drake. He tries to pull his hand away, but can’t. Her eyes beg him to stop fighting her. He wants to. He wants to take her in his arms and kiss her so badly. “Please, Drake. Please help me.”

“I … I can’t, Audrey. You know I can’t.”

“You can! It’s still your choice. You don’t have to be a part of this.” Her other hand comes up to his face. Her whole body pleads with him to listen to her.

He shudders under her touch, but he still shakes his head. “Audrey, you don’t understand. I can’t leave the Guardians. They won’t let me go. Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t.”

“I can hide you, Drake. We could do it together. We could be together again. Don’t you want that?” she asks. “I do. I miss you so much. It hurts every time I think about you being alone, or about you carrying out these terrible missions. I want you to be with me.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just abandon my brothers. They need me, Audrey, and I need them.”

“More than you need me?” she asks with tears in her eyes.

Drake shakes his head angrily. “This isn’t about you. It’s about protecting people. You know that!”

“No, it’s not!” Audrey yanks herself out of his grasp and glares at him. “It’s about your pride, your ambition. You want so badly to prove to them that you have what it takes to be this great leader. You’ll do anything you can to get there. I don’t get it, Drake! Why do you want to rule a group as corrupt as the Guardians? You know they’re doing terrible things. You know it! Don’t pretend this is about brotherhood. This is about you, only you! That’s why I left. I can’t be with someone who cares more about their rank in life than helping other people.”

“That’s not fair!” Drake yells. He moves toward her angrily with his hand ready to snap around her wrist. A voice from the doorway stops him. Everyone in the room, including me, turns toward the voice. One of the other team members, Phil, the one who was with Drake, stands in the doorway with his weapon drawn. The concern on his face is not for his commanding officer’s safety. It’s more about the situation. Drake should have had this all taken care of a while ago.

“What’s going on here?” Phil asks, creeping further into the room slowly.

Audrey’s eyes latch onto Drake. “Please,” she asks quietly.

“Drake! What’s going on? You’ve got the Cipher cornered already. Get this over with.” Phil glances toward the back door of the cabin where the other two members of the team are waiting.

“Just give me the Cipher, Audrey,” he demands, and then in a quieter voice adds, “I’ll give you a chance to run if you just hand him over.”

Audrey’s teary eyes harden to stone. A swipe of her hand brings a knife from behind her back. I gasp in surprise when I realize it’s a Guardian blade. She was a Guardian! And she left. Somehow she managed to escape them. I can’t believe it.

“I won’t give him up, Drake.”

“Audrey, please.”

She stands her ground. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Drake’s eyes widen in surprise. An internal struggle wild enough to best the strongest tornado rages inside of him. Phil yells at him to do it. Drake knows Audrey has no hope of surviving. There are two Guardians in the room with her, and if she was once a Guardian herself, she must know there are more outside. If she fights, she’ll die. Yet she doesn’t lower her weapon or show any sign of wavering. She looks peaceful, in fact, like she’s accepted her death. I almost get the feeling from her that she truly believes it will be worth it, though I don’t understand how she can think that. The Cipher will be captured. What will she accomplish?

Phil is yelling at Drake again, fueling his anger at Audrey for doing what he could not. “Stand aside,” he commands.

“No.”

Drake’s whole body tenses in anticipation. He doesn’t see the way her face softens. He springs, and whips his blade across her throat before he even realizes she isn’t trying to stop him. When he does, the knife falls from his hand as he catches her body. They both sink to the ground, her blood pooling on the hardwood floor. He watches her hand fall limp, the blade rolling to the ground and revealing the sacred Seeker emblem. Drake’s hands tremble as he stares at the scarlet covering them. He turns back to Audrey in shock. She’s already too far gone to speak, but her quivering lips find the strength to mouth one last message.

“I love you.”

Deep, wracking sobs gasp from Drake’s body. Less than ten seconds pass before Phil calls out to him. He has the Cipher in hand and wants to leave. I watch as something inside Drake changes. His blood soaked hands pull away from Audrey’s dead body. As he stands, she slides off his lap and drops to the floor with a resounding thud. The blank, frigid expression I know so well slips onto Drake’s face, never to leave again. He wipes the blood off his hands, touches his first two fingers to his Guardian emblem in a promise to never think of this moment again, and leaves the woman he loved to rot on the floor.

I don’t follow them when they leave. My eyes are transfixed on Audrey’s body. Her dark hair fans out in the blood that has painted a crimson halo around her head. The most haunting is her peaceful expression. She died without a fight. She died believing her sacrifice would mean something. Silent tears fall down my cheeks because I believe she was wrong. She gave up her life for nothing. I am about to pull out of the memory when a sound catches my attention and I realize I’m not the only person in the room.

The older Drake that I have tied up in the training house basement stumbles forward to Audrey’s body. Shaking too much to stay standing, he drops down next to her. He’s the same as me, just a figment of spirit. He can’t pick her up or touch her, but the way his hands gently glide over her body, I almost believe he can feel her. His own tears never touch her skin, but he sheds them with abandon. Sob after sob makes his body convulse until he’s draped on top of her, crying and saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. I watch the spectacle in shock for a long time before finally understanding. I pull out of the memory and back into my own body.

My legs nearly collapse as soon as I’m back, but I grip the chair and force myself to stay standing. The room is entirely silent except for the sound of Drake’s crying. Steeling myself for one more fight, I grab Drake’s face and shake him until he opens his eyes. He blinks and glares at me with such loathing it makes me shiver.

“You! Why did make me see that again? Why?” he cries.

“You murdered her,” I say, my voice harsh with emotion. “You murdered the one woman in this world that would ever love you. How could you do that?”

He struggles to choke out an answer. “She betrayed me.”

“No,” I say, “you betrayed her, and you know it. All she asked you to do was do what you knew was right. You knew what the Guardians were doing, how they twisted what people believed so they could control them. You were both Prime Seekers. You both knew the truth, but only she was strong enough to turn away from the lies and corruption.”

All the emotion he bottled up years ago and refused to let anyone see comes pouring out in a tidal wave. His body convulses with sobs, rocking him against the chair. I have to tap my depleted Strength to hold on and keep standing. Drake bawls out his agony and I let him. When he finally begins to quiet, I say, “She was a Seeker, Drake. She could see the future, we both know that. What I couldn’t understand about the way she let you kill her …”

Drake breaks up my words with another shuddering sob.

“… is what she thought she was accomplishing. You took the Cipher anyway.” I stop as my amazement at her sacrifice becomes too much.  I have to fight to hold back tears. “But when you showed up next to me, it all made sense.”

Drake stares at me through red streak eyes, not understanding.

“She saw us meeting, Drake. She knew that one day you would have face to what you did to her, and you would be forced to admit you were wrong.”

“No,” he cries, “no, that can’t be true.”

“Why else would she let you take her life so easily? She was a Seeker. She could have fought you if she wanted to. Maybe she would have even won,” I say, “but she saw this moment. Audrey knew you would have to choose between continuing to fight me and following in her footsteps. You wouldn’t listen to her then, so she gave you the only thing she could, her life as a testament of how much she believed in what she was doing. She’s begging you one more time to help her, to make the right choice.”

Drake’s whole body crumbles in on itself. He looks at his hands still tied to the chair. He stares at them as if he can still see the blood that stained them decades ago. Maybe he can. Tears splash down on his legs. He doesn’t look up when he speaks.

“Audrey was right about me. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I wanted the glory of being a Guardian too much. She was strong enough to escape. I wasn’t. I let her go,” he says, stifling his agony, “and then I killed her.”

He can’t go on for several seconds. It gives me a moment to gather enough of my frayed mind to realize he’s actually able to talk about the memory. I actually did it. I destroyed his Guardian Promises completely. All that is left is the Oath I felt buried deep inside of him. My mind quiets at the realization, joining the silence of the room. When the stillness becomes too great, I ask, “If you knew she was right, why did you stay with the Guardians after that?”

“Because I murdered her!” he screams. “What did I have left, then? I couldn’t go to her friends after that. I was the beast she was afraid I’d become. I didn’t think there was anything else I could do. I was too weak to just kill myself, so I took the only option left. I promised myself I would never think of that day again and threw myself into my work. I was already the worst kind of monster. There was no redemption for me.”

His head falls again, and I know he is broken forever. That’s why he sent Braden after me. He knew personally what killing Braden would do to me. The cold and vicious man I met months ago in Braden’s front yard is dead. The boy I saw making promises to his first and last love has returned, but instead of being filled with ambition and purpose, he is consumed by regret. No wonder that memory was layered so thickly with resolve to never think of it again. He knew it would destroy him. I pulled him into it, made him relive it all over again. I have dug up the worst moment of his life and put it on display. I haven’t destroyed him completely, though.

Lowering myself enough that he can see me eye to eye, I say, “What if you were offered redemption now? Would you take it?”

“What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

“Audrey is gone, but you can still become the man she wanted. Help me, Drake.” They are the same words she spoke to him. I chose them for exactly that reason and Drake knows it. His will to fight leaves him completely.

“I can’t,” he whimpers.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, you don’t understand. My Oath … after I killed Audrey, I gave my Oath to the Guardians, to serve them for the rest of my life.”

I interrupt him. “It doesn’t matter, Drake. Trust me. You can change. You can make Audrey’s death worth something. You can make her sacrifice worth the high price she paid.”

One emotion I never thought I would see in Drake’s eyes is hope. Yet it shines back as me as he asks, “How?”

Letting go of the chair and standing on my own power is more than challenging. My left hand is shaking as I push my sleeve back and give Drake his answer. He stares at the second row of diktats on my arm and his eyes grow huge. I’m sure he’ll say no. I prepare to leave and turn him over to the others. His eyes close, and I pause. Grief and sadness pour out of him, and I know he must be thinking of Audrey again. A tear slips down his cheek and the emotions slowly change to a tentative brand of happiness, maybe for the first time since losing her.

“Do it,” he says suddenly, “do it for Audrey.”

I slip my hands over his. We’re both shaking, but I gather my talents and say, “I’ll do it for both of you.”

Everything I have left is released in a rush.

Chapter 25

From Truth

I wake up groaning in pain. Uncomfortable heat throbs in my wrist and I curl my body around it. The moment without thought ends abruptly and everything I learned from Drake comes rushing back in. The prophecy, the creatures, Audrey. The last, Audrey, hurts the most. Flashes of red dart through my mind, morphing from her blood to Braden’s as I am caught in the panic of what might have happened. If I hadn’t found a third option at the last minute, his blood would have bathed me in the poison that consumed Drake. Imagining myself turning into a cold-hearted monster pushes me over my limit. I bury my face in the blankets and cry.

The sound of a door opening and closing reaches my ears, but I can’t react to it. Too much has been drawn out of me. I think I will lie here forever, sobbing like a child, until a firm sense of peace wraps around me. “Libby, honey, are you okay?” Braden asks as he sits on the bed next to me.

His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn with lingering tears on my cheeks and reach for him. He doesn’t resist. Braden lies down next to me and cradles me in his arms. The questions he must have all wait patiently. I can’t answer any of them yet, and he understands that. Looking into Drake’s memories was hellish, a glimpse into how dark a person’s soul can turn. I feel tainted by his vileness. Love and kindness are what I need, and I soak it up hungrily as Braden holds me. As the pain begins to subside, my need for Braden’s love grows deeper.

My hands slide up his body and stroke his cheek before my lips come up as well. I kiss him, but he pulls back. “Libby, are you okay?”

I’m not, but I know how I can be. “Kiss me,” I ask him.

“Libby,” he says, “stop. You’re still recovering. Just lie back down.”

“No, Braden, please. I need this.”

“You need to rest.” He tries to push me down but I won’t let him.

I huddle against his chest, and say, “Braden, you don’t know what it was like in his head. He’s done so many horrible things, and I had to watch them all. I just … I need to be reminded that no matter how bad things get for me, I’ll never turn into him.”

I’m crying again by the time I finish. Braden pulls me up and kisses me, but only lightly. “Libby, whatever you saw, you aren’t Drake. You never could be.”

“You don’t know that. Drake killed the woman he loved and he tried to make me do the same thing when he sent you after me. What if I had done it? I couldn’t have lived with myself. I would have turned as black as he did. I still may. You don’t know. You don’t know.”

“Yes, I do,” he says forcefully, interrupting my mounting hysteria.

“How?” I ask.

He smoothes the hair back from my face. His body heat spreads through me as he presses me closer to him. There is no doubt in his expression when he says, “I know you wouldn’t have turned into Drake, because you never would have killed me, Libby. As much as it would have tortured me, you would have let me kill you rather than taking my life. I know you. You seem to think that a cloud of pain and misery follow you wherever you go, but you’re wrong. You are so wrong. You see the bad things of this world and blame yourself for them. Look at all the good you’ve done.”

“What good have I done? Hammond is dead, so many people I’ve cared about are dead because of me.” I touch the pendant Lance gave me and stare at the two halves. I’m supposed to have both sides inside of me, but when is the good half going to show up?

“You mean aside from freeing the Ciphers and unlocking their talents?” he asks. “Well, let me see. You’ve saved the lives of Dean and the other new Ciphers, saved Hope and her family, told people about what the Guardians are really doing and made them think, changed both Lance’s and my mind about you, and I don’t know how, but you stopped the most evil man I have ever met and made him actually want to help you. You’ve done things no one else in history has ever done before, too. And if you need another reason, the one I think is the most important is you made me fall in love with you.”

Braden runs his hands through my hair slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Libby, I know bad things have happened, people have been hurt, but you’ve stopped even more pain. The bad doesn’t follow you, you follow it, because you care about other people and you want to stop it from happening if you can. That’s why I know you’ll never turn into Drake. Your heart is too filled with love and compassion to ever make room for selfishness and hate. Maybe the whole world doesn’t see that yet, but they will.”

“Do you really believe that?” I ask.

“Absolutely,” he says before kissing me.

The fear I was holding onto dissolves as I kiss him back. The usual teasing and insinuating I would start up with Braden in this situation doesn’t surface. With my head straightened back out, the details of what I need to do come back to the front of my mind. I reluctantly pull myself out of his grip and start to sit up. I get lightheaded and sway right away. Braden pushes me back down.

“Libby, stay put, please. What you did to Drake took a lot out of you. You may need a little more time to recover,” he says.

“More time? How long have I been out?”

Braden slips his arm under my neck and curls up next to me. “Two days. It’s Sunday night.”

“Two days? What happened to Jen? I was going to talk to her.”

“We couldn’t keep her here,” Braden says. “Lance tried talking to her, but he couldn’t get her to keep her mouth shut. She’s already told everyone what happened.”

“Howe knows we broke the truce,” I say glumly.

I knew the truce was never going to last until my eighteenth birthday, but if I could have kept the Guardians from finding out about this I would have. A room full of dead Seekers would have been blamed on me regardless, but without Jen blabbing it to everyone they wouldn’t have had any proof. President Howe is not going to be happy.

“I can’t believe her. I’ve been sitting here doing nothing for two days and Jen is out telling the world what we just did.”

“You haven’t been doing nothing. You been resting, which you need to keep doing. Besides, Jen didn’t exactly tell everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lance was able to convince her to spin what happened in a slightly different light. She told everyone that you rescued Drake instead of kidnapping him.”

I blink in confusion. “What? Why would anyone ever believe that?”

“Jen is a better reporter than I gave her credit for. She already knew Drake had staged a coup and failed. She also knew that Howe was about to make a move on Drake,” Braden says. “Jen chose to interpret what she saw as Drake making a desperate move to dodge Howe by coming to us for help.”

“Wow. And people are actually buying that?” I ask.

Braden frowns. “Well, since Drake isn’t available to tell everyone we’re lying, people are starting to believe it.”

I shake my head at the strange turn of events. Maybe Braden is right. Maybe there is some good to my life. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten a break like this. I lean deeper into the pillows and press myself closer to Braden.

When Braden shifts, I worry he’s going to leave so I can rest. I grab his hand and beg him not to leave. “I’m not leaving, Libby. I’ve been with you the whole time, and I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

“Do I get to decide when I don’t need you anymore? Because that might never come.” I know I need to get busy, but I just couldn’t resist that. I smile and wait for him to tease me back. Instead, his kind expression crumbles.

“After the last couple days, I don’t know that I want that day to come, either.”

I’ve wanted to hear him say that for so long. Night after night of me in his arms sounds like heaven, but the way he said it makes me worry. I remember shoving the last of my power into Drake so I could steal his talents and free him from his Oath, but nothing after that. I should remember something of what I did, shouldn’t I? I pull my left hand up so I can see it and spot the four new diktats alongside the ones I took from Braden. It should be reassuring, but Braden lowers his eyes and looks away.

“Braden, what happened?”

He doesn’t answer me. Panic creeps into my voice quickly.

“What happened? Braden, please tell me what happened. Where’s Drake?” I ask, my hands starting to shake again.

Taking my hands in his, Braden says, “Libby, I meant what I said before. You’re changing the world for the better. You can’t forget that.”

“Braden, please,” I beg.

He sighs and looks down at our hands. “Drake didn’t make it. He was just too weak. You almost didn’t make it, either, Libby. I was so scared. I couldn’t wake you after you collapsed, no one could.”

He was a horrible person who had done horrible things, but he made the right choice in the end. He wanted to help, to try and make amends for what he had done. Drake was going to help me fight the Guardians, tell me what they did to the Cipher. “I killed him?”

“No, we all heard him ask you to do it, Libby. It wasn’t your fault. He just wasn’t strong enough. His talents weren’t strong enough,” he says. Braden grabs my shoulders when I try to sit back up, his push is gentle but firm. “Libby, he didn’t die right away. After you collapsed, he was still alive for a few minutes. He knew he was dying, though, and he asked us to tell you something.”

“What?” I ask.

“Thank you.”

Braden’s jaw tightens for a moment, but curves into a shaky smile eventually. “I hate him for what he did to me. I’m glad he’s dead, to be honest, but he meant it, Libby. You did what I never could have done. You gave him peace. He died with Audrey’s name on his lips. I hate him, but I’m glad he had the chance to make the right choice. Maybe some people will say it doesn’t matter, because he died before he could make up for what he’s done. He didn’t know he would die when he made the choice, though. After the kind of life he’d lived, in the end he made the right choice. It gives me hope.”

I’m quiet and still in his arms. When Drake manipulated him back at the Hacienda, those feelings were already there. His hatred for Drake was just waiting to be nudged. He wanted to kill him. I don’t know what he put Braden through. I feel the threat of tears every time I even think about it. Yet now, Braden can speak of Drake’s final hours in a completely different way. Hope. That was what Audrey felt right before Drake killed her. I believe she let her life slip away knowing her death would not only redeem the man she loved, but offer hope to the rest of the world.

I promise myself that I won’t let her sacrifice be wasted. My mind begins speeding along pathways that will allow me to do that, to tell the world their story, but Braden interrupts me. “Libby, I know you’re not quite yourself yet, but everyone is wondering what you got from Drake. Kayla especially. She doesn’t blame anyone but Drake for Hammond’s death, but she’s desperate to know that he didn’t die in vain. Did you find what you were looking for?”

That was the whole point of what I did, I remind myself. Finding Audrey’s story, it will be important to further our cause, but it’s going to have to take a back seat for the moment.

“Yes,” I say, “well, most of it. I found the rest of the prophecy, but I didn’t understand much of what I saw of the Cipher creatures.”

“Tell me about them, about both. Maybe we can figure it out together.”

Braden helps prop me up on a couple of pillows and sits up next to me. The room is still dark, aside from a bedside lamp. Braden slips his arm around my shoulders, letting me lean against his chest. I love that when he says together, he means together. I have known my fate for a long time. Dying has been on my mind almost constantly. Acceptance came at some point that I would die very young, but I never stopped wishing it could be different. Since meeting Braden, I have been more determined than ever to reach old age. Something in what I learned from Drake must be able to help me make that happen.

Quickly, I bring the prophecy to the front of my mind, saving the mention of what they did to the Cipher for a little longer. I repeat the last three stanzas for Braden word for word.

“We cannot stop her, not alone.

“She will steal our brothers, take their power.

“We must do the same.

“One of her own will be her downfall.

“Unrestricted, Cassia the Destroyer will be the end of our world.

“She will unravel the purity of our work and turn society against us.

“Our power will be lost forever unless we seize all control first,

“Break the laws of Power and transform this world into one she can never save.

“This is our mission,

“Our legacy,

“Our lives.

“Kill the Destroyer, the anathema to our perfection.”

The first version of the prophecy ended with the lines, “We cannot stop her. Cassia the Destroyer will be the end of our world.” Everything else of what I repeated is brand new. When I got the first version of the prophecy from Braden, I wasn’t able to get rid of the promise that kept him from talking about it. His eagerness to discuss it now shows one more plus side to me taking his talents and obliterating every promise and Oath he’d ever made.

“Well,” Braden says, “that explains why not everyone got the whole prophecy.”

“What do you mean? These extra parts at least explain things more. The first version left off making you feel like it was inevitable that I’d win. It seemed like the Guardians were telling their own people that what they were doing was pointless.”

“Mr. Walters tried to explain it when he told you this could be looked at as more of a possibility than a prophecy. That’s how the Guardians treated it. Cassia would win unless we found a way to stop her.”

“But wouldn’t telling them how they’re supposed to stop me make more sense?” I ask.

Braden shakes his head. “Contrary to popular belief, not all Guardians are as sick and twisted as Drake was. If they told new recruits right off that Cassia was going to take Guardians and steal their power, for one, but also that they’d have to break the laws of power to stop her even though she was the one doing the right thing in the first place, they’d have a much harder time getting people to sign up with them. Most people join the Guardians willingly because they think they’re going to help people. It’s not until they’ve been there a few years that they realize the whole ‘protect and serve’ thing is just a pipe dream.”

So they give them an impossible task instead. Knowing firsthand how pigheaded and stubborn Guardians can be, I guess I can understand that. Any of the Guardian class members I know get pretty indignant when you tell them they can’t do something. In fact, it’s the best way to make sure they will do it.

“You know, when I got the first version from you, I didn’t understand very much of it. This new stuff, though, it seems so plain. Too plain, almost,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the first new stanza, it says they can’t stop me on their own because I’ll steal their people and power. Idris says one of my own will defeat me. The Guardians must think that means the Ciphers, the ones they’re changing, and I think I agree with them because of the last couple lines of the next stanza. It says they’ll have to seize all control by breaking the laws of power. Whatever they were doing to that poor Cipher, they were definitely breaking some laws of power,” I say, shivering at the memory.

Braden pulls me against him more tightly, and asks, “Libby, what were they doing to the Ciphers?”

Shaking off the horrible feeling that memory left is impossible as I call it back up. I try to ignore the sickening emotions as I tell Braden about what I saw. It doesn’t work very well, because I still feel like throwing up when I finish. That Cipher’s dead eyes haunt me every time I think about them.

“I don’t understand. What actually happened to him?” Braden asked.

“I don’t know, but a creature like that … Braden, they could take over the entire world. They could kill whoever they wanted, enslave everyone else. The Guardians would have complete control of everyone and everything.” It’s a thought that floors me, but figuring out how they made the creature has to outweigh my fear right now.

The idea that anyone would ever invade his protected memories like I did would never occur to Drake beforehand since it’s never been done before, but I swear he kept himself out of the circle just to keep me from figuring out what was going on. I had hoped so badly that he would be able to explain this to me. Now, I’m going to have to figure it out on my own. Braden’s hand drifts up and down my arm absently as he thinks. Despite the mountain perched to fall on me, I smile. I don’t have to do anything alone.

“My best guess,” I say, interrupting Braden’s thoughts, “is that they found some way of getting around having to perform an Inquest on the Ciphers. We already know every Cipher has the same six talents, so if they could unlock them in some way, it wouldn’t be surprising for them to have the same ones.”

“Could anyone really do that, Libby? You’re the most powerful person on earth, and not even you could pull off something like that.” He stares at me thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the three sets of diktats ringing my arm. “Could you?”

I turn my hand over, not wanting to think about what the last set cost me. “I don’t think I could ever do what they did, Braden. I couldn’t feel the individual powers or what they were doing, but I could definitely sense how much power was being used. Even with the extra diktats I have now, I still don’t think I could do it. There was one person there for every talent they put in the Cipher, and they were obviously the most powerful practitioners they could get their hands on.”

“Okay, but you only have the diktats of three people. What if you had six complete sets? Do you think you could do it then?” he asks.

“I … I don’t know. Are you wanting me to try what they did?” I cringe at the very idea.

“No,” Braden says quickly.

“I don’t even get what you’re asking, Braden. There was only one person for each talent, not six for each one. Why would I need six of each talent? To do what they did, wouldn’t I only need to be as powerful in each talent as they were? I may not be there yet, because I’m not eighteen, but once my powers are fully unlocked I will be. I still don’t think I could do it, even then. It was creepy how much power was flowing through that room.”

Braden nods encouragingly. “Too much power, right? You said it felt like it was going to crush you. No one person should have that much power. So what if it wasn’t just one person’s power. What if they were combining their power, buffering each other until their power was six times what it should be?”

“You can’t combine power,” I argue. “It’s impossible.”

“Quite the statement coming from you,” he snorts.

I brush off his comment, and say, “Braden, seriously, there’s no way for two people to combine their power outside of being Companions. And you can’t be Companions with more than one person. Certainly not with six other people.”

“Well, which is more impossible, Libby, that six people found a way to combine their power, or that six people on this planet are more powerful than you? Neither one is supposed to be true, but obviously one of them is.” He waits for my answer, but I don’t know what to say. He’s right. One or the other is true.

“They must have combined their power,” I say quietly.

I say it not only because I don’t want to imagine the possibility of people being more powerful than I am, but because prophecies, legends, historical writings, all of them declare me to be the absolute most powerful. Not a single mention of the impossibility of combining power has ever come up. In fact, it’s another one of those things we’re taught from the time we’re little as an absolute truth, like the Destroyer being something to fear, but never do I remember any proof of the claim. We’re told it’s impossible, so we never try. I have to admit I should know better than that.

“Even if we’re right,” Braden says, “that still leaves us with the problem of what they did to the Cipher.”

My list of impossible things to either do or figure out just keeps getting longer. I play the memory in my mind again, searching for any hints or ideas. Nothing particular really strikes me, but as I watch I think about Celia of all things. Remembering when I attempted, and failed, to perform an Inquest on her suddenly sparks an idea in me.

“I could feel Celia’s talents, but I couldn’t unlock them,” I say, mostly to myself. Talking my ideas out helps me organize them. Braden must recognize this because he doesn’t say anything.

“I knew what talents she had, and where they were centered inside of her, but I couldn’t do anything to unlock them. If the Guardians really do know how to combine power, maybe they know how to find a Cipher’s talent without Perception. You now, like one person’s Concealment can go in and find the other person’s Concealment. Maybe that’s why they need someone from every talent. If they can do that, maybe they can touch the source of the talent and combine with it, or draw it out in some way, without actually unlocking it. That would be so much stress on a Cipher’s body and mind. It could be why he turned into a virtual zombie.”

I turn my attention back to Braden. “What do you think?”

“It makes sense,” he says. He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks. When he looks back over at me, he has a considering expression on his face. “After my dad and brother died, I had a really hard time for a while. Every night I had nightmares. I was terrified of Sihirs coming and taking me away. Not the real Sihirs I know exist now, but the ones in the stories, the zombie kind that carry off little children. My foster parents tried. They gave me a night light and told me I was safe. They just figured it was an effect of everything I’d been through and said the nightmares would go away after a while.”

“Did they?” I ask.

“No, not until I told my grandpa about them when we met in the spirit world.”

“What did he do that made them go away?”

“It wasn’t anything he did, but what he said,” Braden explains. “He told me that dreams came from some grain of reality. He was a psychiatrist before his illness made him bedridden, so we talked for a while about how my dreams of the Sihirs taking me probably stemmed from losing my dad and brother and feeling like I was alone and afraid of losing anyone else. I was pretty young, so I didn’t really understand most of what he said, but what he told me about dreams coming from reality really struck me. I asked him whether Sihirs were real. His answer surprised me. He said just like dreams came from reality, most stories come from truth. I suppose it should have scared me even more to think that Sihirs might be real, but for some reason it made me feel better. I felt that if they were real, I could fight them. If they were just dreams chasing me around at night, there was nothing I could do to stop them.”

Not that I don’t love learning more about Braden, but I have to ask. “Um, what does this have to do with changing Ciphers?”

Braden laughs. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t connect the two very well. I think what my grandpa said is more true than he knew. Stories do come from truth. Milo’s mom told you the real Sihirs were the thing Saia turned into when they killed her with her spirit still out of her body. What if she was wrong? What if the real Sihirs are the ones from the stories, soulless bodies too powerful to stop, bent on mayhem and destruction?”

“That amount of power would wreak havoc on a person’s spirit,” I say. “The Spiritualist could even help the process along, suppressing the spirit until it couldn’t even interact with the body anymore. The Cipher would still be alive, but have no identity or free will. He would be a mindless slave with incredible power.”

“Who knows how many of these things the Guardians have created. They could have an entire army of them, Libby,” Braden says.

I’ve never been a big fan of zombie movies. Lance is, though. Growing up with him, I’ve seen dozens of them, from Night of the Living Dead to Twenty Eight Days Later and Zombieland. It’s pretty universal knowledge that cutting a zombies head off will kill them … again. None of the movie zombies had six talents, though. What I will have to face won’t be lumbering hunks of flesh too stupid to even open a door. These will be strong and fast, intelligent enough to hunt, but programmed to kill me. They will be much more powerful than any other foe I’ve faced. How do I fight something like that?

Our conversation moves on as we think and talk about how to beat the zombie Ciphers. Ideas and suggestions bounce around us, some good and some dismissed as soon as they’re spoken. As scary as this new threat is, at least I was able to find out about it. We can prepare ourselves. I’ve still got time. But as we sit and try to come up with a plan, my original fear about the prophecy nags at me. The explanation seems too simple. I have to be missing something.

Chapter 26

Faith

Jen’s blog report is snapped up in an instant, locally, but the story really only breaks when President Howe himself holds a news conference about it. He, of course, doesn’t bother to explain everything that led up to me “intervening” with Drake. All he does is paint a picture of a Guardian breaking under the pressures of his duties and basically losing his mind. I come off as some kind of creepy scavenger picking up desperate, unstable pieces of society.

Too bad for President Howe that his people aren’t the fastest workers in the world. It takes him two days to work up his speech. In that time, my Ciphers were already mobilized by Lance and Braden to contact everyone they could and explain what really happened with Drake. They encouraged their friends to pass it on to as many people as would listen. By the time Howe stepped up to his microphone Sunday night, half the world already knew the real version of what happened, or most of it anyway.

The only thing that still remains a secret is what happened to Drake after I took him. For the next few weeks, we maintained the rumor that he joined us, which is true, but don’t reveal the fact that he died right after I stole his talents. The Ciphers and friends in the training house are the only ones who know that. Of those thirty-something people, only Braden, Lance, Celia, and I attended his funeral. The Monday after I woke back up we took his body into the mountains after school and buried it near the cabin where Audrey died. I would have liked to have buried him next to her, but I had no idea where that might be. None of us really said anything. I didn’t know what the others were thinking as we walked away from his grave, but I left hoping he was able to find Audrey again.

In the weeks since President Howe’s press conference, everyone has been on heightened alert. I broke the truce regardless of what the public believes. The whole world thinks they know what happened. Howe knows the truth. I have no doubt about that. He has reason upon reason for me to be expelled, imprisoned, killed even, but nobody comes. No angry, pitchfork-waving mobs, no Guardians or Seekers, either. Everything stays eerily quiet. Everyone in the general public must either support me or be too scared to face me. I doubt that’s true for the Guardians and Seekers.

After weeks of looking over my shoulder, I realize that maybe our careful lie worked better than I thought. We start listening even more carefully to rumors circulating through the Guardians and realize that Howe has been scouring everywhere for Drake, trying to find him and kill him, and when he comes up empty he starts to believe what Jen wrote . Drake’s disappearance doesn’t convince Howe that I have Drake, but it makes him wonder, makes him too scared to make a move. It’s a small victory I know won’t last long, but it’s one I plan to make good use of.

Howe’s fear is a strange thing, but Milo’s behavior is just as odd. He knew better than to drag his criticism of me bringing Braden on the raid into a full out fight that night, but as soon as I was out of bed he threw it in my face again. I refused to apologize, and even lost my temper completely and slapped him after reminding him of his own mistakes. Maybe Celia wouldn’t have been able to do anything given how fast the toxin worked, but neither of us can know that for sure. Ever since that fight, he’s been making himself scarce. Celia worries about him and what he might be doing. So do I.

I have followed him multiple times with no suspicious results. That doesn’t mean I’m convinced something isn’t going on. I can’t watch him constantly. I worry and watch, ready to act, but more often than not, I have to trust in his total obsession for bringing down the Guardians and hope he won’t do anything to put it all in jeopardy.  I try to take my mind off Milo for a few minutes and get back to something much more fun for a change.

Like getting ready for Lance’s eighteenth birthday party. I missed his birthday last year due to hating his guts. If Howe is going to hold off because he can’t decide whether I killed Drake or turned him, and which option is more scary, I’m definitely making up for missing Lance’s birthday last year. This isn’t just a party, of course. It’s mainly a guise for our recruits from all over the country to meet and plan, and to attract new recruits. We don’t want to advertise we’re all getting together in one spot, so using Lance’s annual monster birthday bash works as a very believable cover. And thank goodness it does, because we could all use a chance to have fun for at least a few hours.

“Hope, is the DJ set up? Does he need anything else?” I ask as I rush through the foyer.

“Everything’s good to go,” she says, not stopping, either.

“Celia!” I call when I spot her across the room. She hurries over, balancing stacks of plates and cups in her arms, and asks what I need. “Did someone pick up Lance’s brother, yet? I wanted him to be here before Lance gets back.”

“Yeah, Daniel has him hooking up lights outside on the steps and making sure they got all the ice taken care of,” Celia says.

“I thought the ice was taken care of already. Have you seen Milo at all?” I ask, my thoughts invariably slipping back to him.

She shakes her head. “Haven’t seen him all day.”

I frown, but try not to linger. It’s no big surprise he isn’t in the mood for a party. I’m sure he’ll be here tomorrow for the conferences we have planned with our out of town guests. “I’m going to go get ready, okay? Holler if you need me for anything.”

Celia nods and makes for the ballroom. Her ballet-inspired cocktail dress swishes around her legs as she scurries away from me. Not many people can pull off a virtual tutu outside of a dance studio, but Celia can. Its happy bounce still fits her optimistic nature, but it amazes me sometimes just how much she’s changed since her Inquest. Boys and clothes used to fill her mind to bursting. Now you can hardly get her to talk about anything other than healing techniques and combat triage procedures. That’s what everyone has been like, though. Scared of someone coming after us, planning for those battles, thinking of nothing other than helping me take down the Guardians. This party is just what everyone needs. We’re all about to explode from the tension. And I am pretty excited for ten-seventeen tonight.

I turn away from the decorating and hurry upstairs. Your birthdate, right down to the second, determines when your talents become fully unlocked. At ten-seventeen tonight, Lance will be the first of my original band of insurrectionists to hit that mark. Before meeting Braden, Lance was the fastest, strongest, most graceful person I knew. Braden put him to shame, but Lance’s already potent talents were a teasing hint at what power he would one day hold. I get a little giddy when I think about finally being able to see what Lance can really do.

Pushing into my temporary bedroom—thanks to everyone refusing to let me go back to my own house after news of Drake got out—I kick off my tennis shoes and start wiggling out of my clothes. My sweater and t-shirt are scattered on the floor and my jeans are about to join them when my door swings open. Braden stands in the doorway holding a freshly dry cleaned dress. His wide eyes and flushed cheeks match mine.

“I … I’m sorry. I didn’t, uh, realize you were in here,” Braden stutters.

I snatch up the nearest shirt I can find—a tank top hanging off the edge of the bed—and yank it over my head. My jeans get rebuttoned as well before I turn back around to face him. It’s hard not to notice the way his eyes are still scouring every inch of me. My own reply sounds as inarticulate as his. “You could’ve, um, you know, knocked or something.”

“Sorry,” he says, crossing the distance between us in ground-eating strides.

His eyes don’t leave mine and my heart rate spikes. The stream of primal desire trailing after him doesn’t help, either. The dress he came up to give me is dropped on the bed without another thought. I shiver when his hands slide around my waist, under the edge of my shirt so his warm flesh is pressed up against mine. He holds me there, at arm’s length, and hesitates. My fingers are trembling as I slide them up his chest and around to the back of his neck. The desire to forget the party is starting in half an hour pulses in his eyes. For so long it was him chasing me, then both of us avoiding each other. Ever since killing Drake put me out cold for two days, it’s been something else entirely, something I can’t even explain.

Braden sleeps in the room next to mine, now, but leaving me every night is almost painful for him. It’s like he thinks I’ll slip away if he’s not with me every second. When we are together, he is always touching me, on my shoulder or back, holding my hand, anything to keep in contact. I’m not any better. Not being able to feel him near me sends jolts of anxiety through my body, escalating to a near panic attack if he’s away too long. It terrifies me to think of losing him. No matter what he says, without him here to remind me of love and happiness, I know I’ll lose myself like Drake did. Nightmares of what that man did assault me every night. Only Braden slipping into bed next to me stops my anguished screaming and crying some nights. I can’t survive without him.

In his eyes, I can see that same sentiment echoed deep in his soul. I don’t know if he moves or I do, or both of us, but our bodies press against each other, our mouths joining and drinking in each other’s love. Everywhere he touches me, my skin tingles and burns, the sensation spreading over every inch of me. When our lips part, I gasp for breath and moan softly as his lips move down the curve of my neck to my bare shoulder. Thoughts of music and guests abandon me entirely. I surrender to the need swirling around us. All I care about is Braden. My hands leave his neck and slip under his shirt, pushing the fabric up slowly. His body shudders and he crushes me against him.

I don’t know if he was trying to stop me or urge me to keep going, but a knock at the door kills any chance of finding out. The sound is followed by a head peeking in. Celia freezes at the sight of us in each other’s arms, grinning and blushing at the same time. “Oops,” she says, “I just wanted to make sure you got the dress.”

Reluctantly, I pull my hands away from Braden’s sculpted abdomen and turn away from him. His fingers trail across my body as I turn, refusing to let go. It’s hard to focus on anything but him, but I force myself to pick up the dress and examine it. I didn’t have the time or inclination to shop for something to wear tonight, so Celia said she’d lend me something of hers. I had no idea what she was going to come up with. I only hoped it wasn’t something poofy and frilly. It’s not.

I rip the protective plastic covering off of the dress and thrust it at Celia. “This is what you expect me to wear tonight?”

“Sure, it’ll look great on you,” Celia says innocently.

I stare at the black dress, willing it to catch on fire. It’s gorgeous, no doubt, but there is no way I am wearing it. The silky top portion is gathered across the front with a generous neckline and short ruffled sleeves. That’s not the bad part. The reason I want to unravel every thread is the high empire waist that goes straight down to what I hope is somewhere closer to knee-length than miniskirt. Its super tight look makes me wonder how my hips are even supposed to fit in there. Celia beams at me despite my horror and hands me a pair of shiny black heels. My head starts shaking back and forth slowly.

Throwing the dress at her seems like my only option until Braden’s emotions register with me. He peers over my shoulder at the dress and says, “Why don’t you at least try it on?”

I turn to look up at him so I can argue. The heat radiating from his body makes me falter. I don’t think he’s going to agree with me. He wants very much to see me in this dress. “Okay,” I whisper.

His eager smile pushes me toward the bathroom. My clothes fall to the floor, but I can’t bring myself to put on the dress. I honestly don’t even think it will fit. Celia is dancer-thin, lithe and graceful. Her curves are subtle. Mine are, well, at little more noticeable. What was Celia thinking? Only remembering the smoldering desire in Braden’s eyes keeps me from abandoning it entirely. Taking a deep breath, I remove the dress from the hanger and unzip the back.

One leg at a time I step into the dress. I start pulling it up, expecting a fight, and am surprised when it slides up effortlessly. The dress stretches over my hips and clings against my skin. I shiver under the cool satin top as I pull it into place. The zipper is too high up on my back for me to reach so I settle for getting it in place as best as I can without the zipper so I can at least see how awful I look. My eyes close halfway through turning to face the mirror and I have to force them back open. When I do, I can’t believe what I see.

I look … amazing. I don’t know how Celia manages to find the perfect dress every time, but rather than looking like my hips and butt are trying to escape the dress, the line and color slim and soften them. My stomach is flatter than it’s ever been thanks to never ending training sessions and my legs look pretty good, too. The gathered top looks positively elegant as it drifts down my chest to meet the rest of the dress. I slip into the heels and take in the whole look. I’ll never doubt Celia again.

When I open the door, Celia and Braden turn to face me. Celia beams at me. Her tutu skirt bounces as she hops lightly in her heels. She’s only in my periphery, though. Braden gapes at me. The only other time he’s seen my in a dress is the night he attacked Milo in the theater. Silks and heels aren’t really conducive to combat training. He doesn’t say or do anything. He simply let’s his eyes wander up and down my body. Waves of unadulterated passion roll off of him. Thank goodness Celia isn’t a Perceptive, though I doubt it takes talents to read Braden’s expression right now. The same probably goes for me. I turn around quickly.

“I couldn’t get it zipped up,” I say, looking over my shoulder.

I expect Celia to jump in and give me a hand, but she elbows Braden instead. He glances over at her looking vaguely distracted. She gestures to my back, and says, “Go ahead, Braden. I know you want to. That dress was for your benefit, anyway.”

Braden smirks at her bluntness, but steps up to help me with my dress. I gather my dark hair away from the zipper and wait for the electric touch of his fingertips. The zipper can’t be more than eight or ten inches long. Braden makes the distance last. My heart is about to pound right out of my chest by the time he makes it to the top. Letting go of the zipper, his hands slide down to my hips. I can feel his breath against the nape of my neck. I wait for his lips to follow, but he lurches away from me. When I spin around to find him, I see Celia shoving him toward the door.

“That’s enough, lover boy. She just needed zipped up. Anything else is going to have to wait,” she says. “Now go downstairs and help Hope. I need to do Libby’s hair and makeup.”

Braden pouts, begging me to overrule Celia. I shrug helplessly as she pushes me back into the bathroom. If he had his hands on me for much longer, there was a good chance neither of us would make it down to the party. Probably better if he goes. For now.

“Sheesh,” Celia says as she pulls my hair out of its ponytail, “this dress may have worked too well. Judging by Braden’s reaction, you may have to beat off every guy in the house, maybe even Lance. Hope may not appreciate that.”

“Lance will be fine,” I argue. “I’ve already seen Hope in the dress she’s wearing. She looks amazing. She’s kissing Lance tonight whether she knows it or not. Poor boy isn’t going to be able to help himself.”

Celia giggles, but it isn’t as cheerful as usual. I glance back at her, the pained expression on her face making me guilty right away. “I’m sorry, Celia, that wasn’t very thoughtful of me,” I say.

She shrugs. “It’s okay. I knew I never had much of a chance with Lance, anyway. Competing against you, at first, and then Hope. Well, you’re just plain gorgeous, and Hope is beautiful with a ‘tortured soul that needs rescued’ kind of vibe. I have a feeling that’s right up Lance’s alley. He makes a good knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, he does,” I say, remembering all the times he was there for me growing up when no one else was. “Celia, don’t think Lance doesn’t think you’re pretty. He thinks you’re beautiful, actually.”

She blushes, but her eyes light up with hope. I hurry to go on.

“But you’re right about Lance. He’s drawn to girls who have a darker, riskier side to them. You’re too good for him. Literally. You’re bright and happy, and no matter how much you like to pretend you’re some dainty petal of a dancer, nobody who spends five minutes with you would ever believe you would need rescued from anything.”

“Hope is strong, though, scary even. When would she ever need Lance to rescue her?” Celia argues.

“Hope needs to be rescued from herself,” I say. Her anger has calmed some since the day we got her out of the Guardian compound, but it still threatens to swallow her whole every once in a while. “Lance is the only person who’s been able to make her smile since we found her.”

Celia frowns and goes back to working on my hair. I hope she’s getting the message. She’s such an amazing girl, I would hate for her to waste her time pining for someone who is never going to be interested in her. Just to give her another reason to look elsewhere, I say, “And just a heads up on Hope, even though she’s yet to kiss Lance, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t already consider him hers. I can feel everything she feels when they’re together. Believe me, you do not want to try and take Lance from her. It won’t end well.”

“Oh,” Celia says.

Disappointment hovers around her, but resignation to the truth is even stronger. Thank goodness.

“I don’t really have time for boys right now, anyway. I’ve got too many other things on my mind.”

I laugh and shake my head. I never thought I would hear those words come out of her mouth. Celia keeps working on my hair and makeup, telling me about the healing techniques her dad has been teaching her. I listen with interest, noting the odd tenor of Celia’s voice as she finishes her work and starts cleaning up slowly, as if waiting or hesitating. When she accidentally knocks over a bottle of foundation because her hand is shaking, I touch her shoulder gently.

“Celia, I didn’t mean to upset you by talking about Lance,” I say.

She shakes her head roughly. “No, it’s not Lance, it’s Milo.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but he hasn’t been coming home at night. I don’t know where he’s been going, but I’m worried.” She bites her bottom lips nervously, waiting for my response.

“How long?”

“He’s been gone a lot since the thing with Drake, but he hasn’t come home the past two nights.”

“Could it be a girl?” I ask, not very hopeful.

Celia scoffs. “Are you kidding me? The way he’s been acting lately, I can’t imagine any girl wanting to be around him. He’s been even worse than after his first Inquest the last few weeks. He doesn’t talk to me anymore, or even fight with Mom and Dad. He’s been a ghost. Lance and Braden said he’s been missing a lot of training sessions here, too.”

He has. I already knew about that, and I’ve been trying to find out where he’s going instead of training without success. I thought maybe he was doing some training on his own, wanting to be away from everyone else. Maybe I was wrong. “Celia, do you have any idea where he might be going?”

“No,” she says slowly, hinting that she might know something else.

“Celia, I know Milo’s your brother, but if you think there might be something wrong …”

She bites her lip again, hard enough that I’m afraid she’s going to draw blood. Tears well up in her eyes. “Libby, please don’t be mad at me, but you know what you told me about Braden?” she asks.

My breath catches. A month or so ago, Celia and I were talking through some ideas of how I could give Braden his talents back. When she asked me why I was so intent of giving them back when having more power could only help me against the Guardians, I broke down and told her about Braden possibly being the Socius, the one person who could help me defeat the Guardians. She made the connection of Braden not being my Companion without his talents and redoubled her efforts to help me find a solution. I stare at her and pray she isn’t about to tell me what I think she is.

“I’m so sorry, but Milo knows. He found the research I was doing to try and help you, and he figured it out.”

“When?” I whisper.

“A couple days after Drake died. I’m so sorry. I should have told you when it happened, but Milo didn’t freak out like I thought he would, and I was afraid you’d be mad at me. I’m sorry.” Her shoulders quiver, her tears spilling over and dripping down her cheeks. I reach up and numbly pull her into a hug.

“It’s okay, Celia. It wasn’t your fault. I’m not mad at you,” I tell her.

I’m honestly not, but I am scared. More scared than I was when I was sure Howe was going to take a shot at me. Milo’s one goal in life is to destroy the Guardians for what they put him through. He hates me for what I did to him, but he trusted me to give him the Guardians on a silver platter. It’s really the only reason he hasn’t abandoned me. He knows, now, that there is a very real possibility I can’t deliver on that promise anymore. What will he do when he loses faith in me completely? I don’t know, but I have a terrible feeling I’m going to find out soon enough.

Chapter 27

Morbid Curiosity

I leave Celia alone in the bathroom to freshen up her makeup after crying half of it off. It took some work to calm her down and convince her I wasn’t upset with her. The thing is, I should have been able to tell Milo about Braden and the Socius story and asked for his help. I knew right away I couldn’t risk him doing something we would all regret. He would blame me for taking Braden’s talents and destroying our Companion bond regardless of the fact that killing Braden was my only other option, and I still would have had to face the Guardians without a Companion. Until I could figure out how to give Braden back his talents, I refused to tell him. I’m not even sure the story is right. I hurry down the stairs trying to figure out what Milo will do with the knowledge Celia accidentally gave him.

I hit the landing and Lance sweeps me into his arms and plants a kiss on my cheek. “The place looks amazing. Thanks for this, Libby,” Lance says. “You look fantastic, by the way.”

“Yeah, great. Thanks,” I say distractedly. “Have you seen Milo, or talked to him lately?”

Lance shrugs at the odd question. “Not really. He’s been keeping his distance since Drake. Why?”

“He found out about the Socius story.”

Hope walks up behind Lance and takes his hand. She obviously heard what I just said. Her frown is thoughtful and glaring at the same time. “I don’t like Milo. He’s too angry and unpredictable.”

Lance’s twitches as he struggles to contain a laugh. I’m doing the same—thinking Hope is the last person in the world who should be making that judgment—but Hope isn’t paying attention to me. She narrows her eyes at Lance. “What?” she demands.

“Nothing,” Lance says, pulling her hand up to his lips in an effort to distract her. It works. She pulls against him a little more tightly with a slight smile. Lance looks back to me. “You think that’s why his been such a prick lately?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure, but keep an eye out for him, okay?” I ask.

Lance nods.

I’m about to walk off to find Braden when I notice Hope isn’t wearing the dress she showed me a few days ago. In fact, she isn’t wearing a dress at all. I take in her dark blue leggings and matching layered miniskirt curiously. The black belt around her waist has a beautiful silk flower attacked to it that goes perfectly with her sequined navy tank top. She looks great, but I can’t help ask. “What happened to the dress you were going to wear, Hope?”

“Change of plans,” she says, looking up at Lance with a brilliant smile. Lance is grinning as well.

Okay …. Shaking my head at them, I tell Lance happy birthday and excuse myself to go find Braden. Guests are already milling around the ballroom, but I skip by it when I spot Braden coming out of the kitchen. He notices me hurrying toward him and picks up his pace. The tray of mini quiches he’s carrying keep him from greeting me too enthusiastically, but even still, it takes me a couple of seconds to recover from his kiss. I mean to tell him about Milo and ask him what he thinks about it, but I spot Jen marching toward us, and all I have time to say is, “Watch out for Milo.”

Braden looks at me oddly, but he saw Jen when I did and doesn’t say anything.

What I think are Jimmy Choo stilettos click along the hall, announcing Jen’s presence if her bouncing hair and flamingo pink dress didn’t do that well enough on their own.  She’s carrying a clutch in her hand that no doubt is equipped with one, if not several, recording devices. The sight of her smiling like everything in the world is gumdrops and lollipops makes me want to slap her. There is only one reason I invited her. To instantly blog anything that the Guardians might try to do tonight. I’m hopeful everything will go off without a hitch, but I’ve learned not to be too optimistic.

“So,” Jen says, flicking her eyes up and down Braden’s body, “this is your new boy toy. Going through them pretty fast now a days, aren’t we? Lance, Milo, now this one. What’s your name again? I didn’t get to meet you properly when I was a guest here a few weeks ago.”

She extends her hand to Braden, and he politely takes it. “I’m surprised you don’t already know who I am, given what I’ve heard about you, Jen.”

Her laugh irritates me almost enough to act on it. “I was just being polite, Braden,” she says. “And I know a lot more about you than just your name. For instance, I know you grew up in Rio Rancho, lost you parents and brother, though not all at the same time, where inducted into the Guardians the day you turned eighteen—before you even graduated high school, which is impressive—and served as a Cipher hunter for three years after spending your first year with the Guardians training in Brazil for a special forces position you later turned down. Why you turned it down, well that’s a mystery even to me. Care to remedy that?”

“Not even a little,” Braden says, still smiling politely. Maybe Jen thought she was going to embarrass him, or say something I didn’t already know that would upset me, but she huffs irritably at our mutual unimpressed expressions.

“Well, you’re no fun at all,” Jen quips.

“Sorry to disappoint.” He smiles winningly just to show her how not sorry he really is and turns back to me. “Unless you need me, I’m going to go deliver these quiches to the ballroom.”

He hesitates long enough for me to shake my head before kissing me chastely on my cheek and ducking away. I’m not afraid of Jen, but I do watch him walk away wishing he was still next to me. Jen watches too, for different reasons entirely. “I never got what you saw in Milo, he was way too moody for my tastes, but Braden is positively luscious,” Jen says when she turns back to me.

I just glare at her and fold my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Jen?”

“Just to talk,” she says. I don’t buy it. Sighing, she opens her clutch and flicks off the digital recorder I knew was there. She holds it up so I can clearly see the red indicator light is off and drops it back in her bag. “I know you only invited me to make sure I blog whatever might or might not happen tonight in regards to the Guardians, but I’m still glad you invited me. I wanted to talk to you last time, but you knocked me unconscious before I could. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Don’t walk in on a kidnapping and you won’t get hit,” I say.

She nods reluctantly. “Still, you didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

I shrug, no sympathy at all. Jen scowls at me.

“Come one, Libby. I passed your kidnapping off as a rescue like Lance wanted. You know I hate lying when I report. Doesn’t that make any difference with you?”

“I don’t know your motives for going along with the story, Jen. And do you honestly expect me to forgive you for the photos? You had no right to do that.”

Jen cocks her head to one side in confusion. “The photos?”

“The ones you sent to that idiot, Blackwood. Me and Braden. Ring a bell?” I snap.

“You’re mad about that?” Jen scoffs. “Libby, I was trying to protect you!”

You’ve got to be kidding me. “How was that protecting me? You nearly got us both in a lot of trouble.”

“I thought … well, I’d noticed how he followed you, and I overheard some of the things he said to you.”

A faint blush creeps into my cheeks. What exactly did she hear him say?

“I also saw how you tried to avoid him,” Jen admits. “I thought Braden was up to something. Manipulating you maybe. I’d heard by that point how much you were struggling with your Spiritualism. I got scared when I saw you with Braden that day acting so happy. I was wrong, obviously, but I thought he’d screwed with your head, so I took the pictures and sent them to the compound hoping they would get rid of Braden and get him away from you.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I don’t doubt anything she’s saying, but it still surprises me. She’s not off the hook, yet. “What about my mom?” I ask quietly.

“Why have I been hanging out with her?”

I nod. Jen shrugs.

“Because she’s the best Concealor I know, and I knew that if I had any chance of being able to help you I needed her to teach me. I’ve hated every minute of it, but even you have to admit she knows how to get what she wants out of people better than anyone.”

Very true. “You’re not working for her, then?”

Jen shudders. “Give me some credit, Libby. Sure, I gave her bits of gossip I heard, but only unimportant stuff that wouldn’t get anyone hurt. I only did that so she would keep teaching me. I haven’t seen your mom in months.”

“Really?”

“I’ve been too busy trying to make you look good to deal with her,” she says with a smile. “You’re a full time job, Libby.”

She doesn’t know the half of it. Finally my combative side mellows. “Why did you really come here tonight?”

“I … I’ve missed talking to you, Libby. I’ve missed talking to anyone, actually. Nobody wants to be friends with me because they’re all afraid I’ll write stuff about them,” she says.

I don’t admit it, but I feel a pang of sympathy for her. I know what being alone feels like, and I know that despite Jen’s aggressive nature, she doesn’t lie or write unsubstantiated gossip. She wouldn’t tell things about a friend unless it was honestly something important. Not even when it comes to me. Braden told me she caught him in my room when I was unconscious. She knows he’s twenty-three, and even though we aren’t sleeping together, it wouldn’t be hard for someone to make that assumption and put it in print. My relationship with Braden has made zero appearances on Jen’s blog.

“You never had to stop talking to me, Jen. That was your choice,” I remind her.

“I know, Libby. I’m sorry.”

No excuses. No, my Guardian parents scared me into ditching you. Just an apology. That’s what I’ve always loved about her. If she makes a mistake, she owns up to it and takes the consequences willingly.

Jen frowns and says, “I wanted to warn you about something, too.”

“What?”

“Your friend, Milo. I saw him talking to this really scary looking guy in the parking lot last week after the kidnapping. At first, Milo looked angry. I think he might have taken a swing at the guy, even. Whatever the guy said, it calmed Milo down. I don’t know who he was, but Milo drove off with him.”

“You didn’t get a picture of this guy?” I ask.

“No, I couldn’t dig my phone out of my bag fast enough, but I didn’t post anything about it, either.”

It’s a peace offering of sorts. She could have blogged about this meeting and even painted it as something sinister without knowing what it really was, but she didn’t. She gave it to me, instead. I still don’t trust her completely, and I don’t know if I ever will, but the last of my hostility softens. I motion for her to walk with me back to the ballroom. Jen smiles, and the girl I know so well comes rearing back to life.

“So, tell me about Braden. I’ve always wanted to date an older guy. He’s hot and sweet. It was so cute when he kissed you on the cheek. You’ll never guess who asked me out the other day. Lloyd Sanchez. Yeah, it was totally bizarre because he’s never even spoken to me before, and I haven’t been real popular lately, like I said, but he’s mega dreamy so I said yes. It was awesome. We …”

In true Jen fashion, she keeps talking all the way to the ballroom where the music finally drowns her out. The sight of so many people in the room, Ciphers in from out of town that Lance has become friends with and a surprising amount of people from school, momentarily shocks Jen. It doesn’t last long enough. She starts talking again despite the blaring music. It’s mostly just her talking at first, but after a while, I can’t resist any longer and join in. I don’t talk about anything that could get me in trouble, but for a few hours I feel like we’re back at a school dance, dishing about anything and everything like we used to before my Inquest turned everything upside down.

Braden slips into the chair next to me at some point during our conversation. He doesn’t interrupt. He sits through our chit chat looking rather amused, actually. This isn’t something he’s ever seen me do before. I worry that it might make me look childish to him, but his hand only tightens around mine. There are so many emotions in the room that I don’t dare let down my shield for fear of being completely overwhelmed, but I wish I knew what he was thinking. When Jen excuses herself to refill her drink, Braden leans in and answers my question.

“It’s nice to see you so happy.”

“I have to be careful of what I say to her, but it is nice to talk to Jen again. I’ve missed her,” I say.

Braden smiles. “I’m glad you’ve made up, even if it is only conditionally.” He leans in and kisses me. “Have I told you how great you look tonight?”

“Not in so many words,” I say.

His grin widens. “Can I steal you away from Jen for a dance?”

“Absolutely.” I’m out of my chair in an instant, pulling him toward the dance floor.

Braden’s arms fold around me and I rest my head against his chest. Slowly the music drifts out of my hearing and is replaced by the beating of Braden’s heart. I close my eyes and listen. I don’t think there is a more beautiful sound in the word. When the song ends and the music changes to something more upbeat, it’s hard not to be disappointed. Almost immediately, though, the music quiets and the DJ announces that the birthday boy has a special treat for us. Braden spins toward the center of the dance floor where everyone is quickly forming a circle.

“Come on,” he says excitedly as he tows me to the edge of the circle, “you’re not going to want to miss this.”

“Miss what? What’s going on?”

“Just come on,” he says.

We reach the edge of the circle and I find myself staring at Lance and Hope. They both look rather keyed up, but by the way they’re just standing in the middle of the circle facing each other I’m at a loss for why. They don’t have any shoes or socks on. That’s odd. The DJ introduces them both and ramps the music back up to full volume. It’s a sultry sound that seeps into my bones in the first few seconds. Even more interesting is the way Hope and Lance start moving back and forth, swaying in a way that promises something very interesting. The whole crowd is mesmerized.

Their movements start growing bigger, more fluid and meaningful. First it’s their arms that circle and glide in and out, and then their feet join in. It looks like they’re going to fight each other, but it’s a fighting style I’ve never seen before. The beauty of it is more like a dance than anything else. They start moving back and forth across the circle as if they were warming up. Hope’s change in outfit starts to make sense as she circles her leg in a wide arc across the floor and brings her knee to her chest in perfect balance. When they start circling back toward each other, everyone watching leans forward eagerly, their anticipation dousing the room.

Hope engages first, her leg kicking out gracefully at Lance’s head. He ducks with perfect timing and her foot sails over him and lands in time with the music. Back and forth they go, taking shots, but not ever landing one. It is sinuous and fluid, captivating. I can’t even take my eyes off of them to ask Braden a question.

“What is this? What are they doing?”

Braden pulls me against him and leans close to my ear. “It’s called Capoeria, a Brazilian form of martial arts.”

“Martial arts? It looks more like a dance.”

“It is a dance,” he says. “It was created by slaves in Brazil. They combined many different tribal fighting styles into something completely new.  In order to continue practicing Capoeira without others knowing—especially after it was banned in the country—it was taught under the guise of being a folk dance. It’s difficult to learn, but amazing to watch.”

Braden did his Guardian training in Brazil. Connections begin to form in my slower than usual mind. “You taught them how to do this?”

“I did.”

What I wouldn’t give to see Braden out there, especially before I stole his talents. Braden glances at his watch, which I find odd, then looks back at the dancing pair anxiously. It startles everyone in the crowd when Hope finally makes contact with Lance, sweeping his leg out from under him. He lands as if expecting the attack, but pain radiates through his body a second later. I step forward, afraid he’s been hurt for real, but Braden holds me back. I try to pull away, but he holds his wrist up so I can see his watch. 10:17 p.m. My eyes snap back to Lance.

Pain ripples through him again and his diktats flare scarlet. That seems to be Hope’s cue to exit. Nobody is watching her as she steps away from Lance, but me. It surprises me that she slips in next to Braden and gives him a little shove toward the floor. I look up at him in surprise. He just grins back at me and slips off his dress shoes and socks. My heart stutters as I realize he’s going out to spar with Lance. With Lance, whose talents have just been fully unlocked. Braden has no talents. At all. Panic pushes me forward. What is he thinking? Hope is there to grab my arm and pull me back.

“Just watch,” she says.

So I do. It’s all I can do. Lance kips back up to his feet grinning like none other. That gorgeous idiot, Braden, urges him forward. The eager tension sizzling between them makes me groan. “This isn’t going to be the dance version of this, is it?” I ask Hope.

“This is going to be awesome,” she gushes. I just roll my eyes. She’s as bad as they are.

I look back at the circle and gasp when they speed toward each other. The desire to cover my eyes grips me as the first kick lands, Braden’s foot to Lance’s thigh, but the same morbid curiosity that makes people stare at car crashes keeps me from hiding. One after another, their bodies twist and pull, sending arms and legs out in lightning fast attacks. Lance is amazing. He’s everything I ever hoped he would be, graceful and powerful to the point it almost makes a person cry. What’s really amazing, though, is Braden. I have no idea how, but he is actually keeping up. It’s nothing like what he used to be able to do with his talents, but he counters almost every attack Lance throws at him and even gets a few solid hits in himself. I have wondered if both Lance and Braden had fully unlocked talents which one would be more powerful. If this is Braden talent-free, well, I’m pretty sure I have my answer. Lance wouldn’t stand a chance.

The raging music starts to slow as the pair begins to tire. The fight turns back into the dance. Their frenzy slows to a rhythmic hum. In perfect time with each other, their bodies come to a rest. There is a moment of silence before the room erupts into applause and cheering. Hope is the first to dash into the circle. She flings herself into Lance’s arms and kisses him with enough passion for two people. I laugh and clap for the kiss just as much as the performance. Lance should have figured combat would be the way to Hope’s heart. Although, from the grateful nod he gives to Braden when Hope finally lets him up to breath, maybe he did figure that out.

Deciding it would be best to congratulate Lance later, I search the collapsing ring for Braden. He pops up next to me and sweeps me into his arms. He’s sweaty and panting from the fight, but that doesn’t stop me from kissing him fiercely. “That was incredible,” I say. “How did you do that?”

“That’s what I spent a lot of time doing in Brazil.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I figured that. I mean how did you do that, how did you keep up with Lance without talents? You were so fast!”

“Aren’t you the one who said I could still do anything I wanted?”

“Well, yeah, but …”

“Libby! Libby!” Jen calls out as she rushes up to me. “I ran into Lloyd before the fight. Can you believe he came? And anyway, we went out onto the balcony, and you’ll never believe who I saw pull up. Milo! And he had the creepy, mean-looking guy with him. They’re coming inside!”

Chapter 28

The Right One

I grab at Braden and yank him toward Lance and Hope. Braden is asking me what’s going on, but I don’t have time to stop and explain. I have to get to Lance and Hope if we have any chance of making a stand. I almost reach them when Milo’s voice carries across the room.

“That was impressive, guys. Really.”

His mocking applause silences whatever noise remained. He starts descending the steps into the ballroom with a cavalier swagger that instantly strikes me as wrong. Sensing the importance of his interruption, the crowd steps out of his way. My people begin closing in. I keep edging my way closer to Lance and Hope. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Celia doing the same thing, her eyes wide. Jen is on the other side of us, phone out, filming everything. Milo reaches the bottom of the stairs just as I slide in beside Lance.

“You know, you would think the Destroyer would have more important things to do than throw parties and play fight for her friends’ entertainment,” Milo says.

He’s trying to bait me into an argument, but I don’t accept. Milo threw his fit about the party days ago. That fight is over and done with. Braden tenses behind me. I can feel his confusion slowly giving way to suspicion. I keep a careful grip on Braden’s hand and scowl at Milo.

“Why don’t you just go home, Milo?”

“Because I have a very good reason to be here tonight, and it doesn’t have anything to do with this party,” he says. Cryptic enough? I’m already tired of this game.

“I don’t care what your reason is for being here. You’re upsetting people. Leave,” I demand.

His face twists into smile that makes my stomach turn. “Will you come with me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because,” he says, “if you don’t, everyone in this room is going to die.”

A startled gasp goes up around the room. I glance over at Lance. He looks wary, but unconvinced. I’m feeling much more concerned. Braden and Hope are both radiating the desire to break Milo’s body into little pieces. This is going to get ugly real fast if I don’t do something.

“Nobody here is going to die.”

“They won’t if you come with me. It’s your choice. You already have the blood of more than eighty Ciphers on your hands. Do you really want more?”

“It’s not my fault those Ciphers died.”

He smirks at me. “I think that might be up for debate.”

“By who?” I demand.

“By their families. By the Seekers and Guardians. If you had given yourself up right away, those people wouldn’t have died.”

“That’s a lie, Milo, and you know it. The Seekers killed them the second after I got the ultimatum. Even if I had gone in right away, it would have already been too late,” I say. “And you were against me turning myself in from the beginning. Who are you to say I should have done something different?”

“Forgive me if I wasn’t as enlightened, then, as I am now. See, back then I actually thought you had a chance at defeating the Guardians. Now I know better,” he growls.

“This is about the Socius.”

Milo’s face twists in a hateful glare. “Obviously. Didn’t you think that was an important bit of information to share with the rest of the group? You’ve told these people for the last year and a half that you were going to defeat the Guardians and save them from their tyranny. You’re still telling them that, even though you know it’s a lie. You can’t defeat them.”

“You don’t know that, Milo,” I argue. “I didn’t mention it because I don’t even know if it’s true. It was a story so old it had been forgotten. And even if it is true, I’m going to find a way to give Braden his talents back. I just need a little more time to figure it out!”

Milo crosses the floor between us and plants himself right in front of me. “Well, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Libby, but your time is up.”

The angry clatter of combat boots fills the room, and black-clad Guardians stream in from the hallway. If Howe was unsure about what really happened to Drake before, now he knows. Milo told him. Reprisal for breaking the truce has finally come.

Frightened guests dart out of their way as every Cipher in the room drops into a battle crouch. I stare at the Guardians in amazement. Not only are they actually wearing body armor, every single one of them is carrying a machine gun. They aren’t taking any chances this time around. With those guns, they could take down this entire room full of people in a matter of seconds. Even Hope looks a little scared now. Slowly, I turn back to face Milo.

“Why are you doing this, Milo? You hate the Guardians.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me not all Guardians are bad?” he sneers. “That was your justification for bringing in that piece of dirt behind you into our group.”

“That’s different, Milo. Braden came to us, wanting to help free the Ciphers. What you’re doing, you’re going against everything we’ve been fighting for since we met!”

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. What I wanted in the beginning was to kill the Guardians who attacked Celia. The Ciphers came later.” Milo notices his sister standing behind Hope, then, and steps toward her. She steps back in fear, making him scowl at her and whirl back to face me. “Yes, I wanted to destroy the Guardians, but there’s more than one way to do that. Your way just isn’t going to work anymore. I’ve found a new way, a much better way.”

“What are you talking about?” I snap.

Holding his wrist up, he makes sure everyone can see his blackened diktats. “The most powerful Guardian rules all the others. And with these, that’s definitely going to be me.”

I just stare at him. He can’t be serious. He’s going to join the Guardians?

“Did they tell you that?” I ask him. “Did the Guardians promise you they’d put you in charge? You’ve got to know they’re lying, Milo. They aren’t going to honor any deal they’ve made with you. You know they won’t! Why are you doing this?”

Milo leans in closer to me. “The only thing the Guardians promised me was the life of the man who tried to kill Celia. The rest, well that’s going to happen whether they want it or not.”

“This is insane, Milo.”

“No!” he yells. “It would be insane to follow you into a battle you have no hope of winning! You screwed up, Libby! How many times do you have to fail before you finally realize you can’t win this? Every choice you’ve made has led us to failure!”

His words pierce me deeply. That isn’t true. He can’t really believe that is true.

“You made the decision to trust Braden. You let yourself fall in love with him, making him the perfect tool for the Guardians to use against you. If you hadn’t let him into our lives, he would never have been sent to kill you. You wouldn’t have had to choose between killing him and stealing his talents. He would still be useful! If you had just left him out of this like I wanted you to, we could have found a way to use him at the end whether he wanted to help us or not. We could have beaten the Guardians if you hadn’t let your heart rip apart our plans,” Milo snarls. “You did this, Libby. You left me with no other choice.”

“I … I can still beat them. You just have to trust me a little longer. I can get rid of the Guardians,” I say, my voice weak in the face of his outrage.

“Trust you?” he laughs. “That’s funny, Libby. You’re a bigger liar than the Guardians are.”

My hand plows across his face, the sharp slap echoing around the room. Shock flashes in his eyes. Fury follows right on its heels. His hand snaps out and grabs my chin. He yanks me away from Braden too quickly for anyone to respond. I glare at him, refusing to be cowed.

“Get out of here, now,” I say.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“What? Am I your ticket into the Guardians? They won’t let you come over to play unless you pay your dues? That’s showing some real leadership skills, Milo. Good luck with the hostile takeover you’re planning. I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” I snap.

“This is your last chance to come with me before people start dying. I’d rather lock you up than kill you, Libby.” Milo clearly means what he’s saying. I think he’s forgotten something, though.

“You can’t kill me, Milo. You gave me your Oath, remember?”

“But I can,” says a voice from behind Milo. Turning with me still in his grip, Milo nods at the man.

I have no idea who this man is, but he carries the same frightening Vision-tapping halo and oily evil that Drake did. The guy he’s dragging along behind him is someone I’ve never seen before, either, but Milo’s eyes gleam when he sees him. The Seeker drops the man he was dragging on the floor at Milo’s feet.

“As promised,” he says to Milo.

Milo shoves me over to the Seeker and grabs the dazed man’s head, wrenching it up so he can see his face. He nods approvingly. Milo doesn’t say anything as he removes his Guardian blade from its sheath. For a moment, he fingers it, running his fingertip along the knife’s edge. It is almost a caress when he grabs the man’s hair again and lifts his head to expose his neck. I can’t take my eyes off of him. Bile swirls in my stomach, threatening to spill out, but I can’t look away. Milo’s blade presses against the man’s throat. I can hear myself whispering “No, no, no” over and over again. He can’t do it. Please don’t do it. The blade starts to move across the man’s flesh and a voice calls out.

“Milo, don’t!” Celia begs. “Please don’t do this.” Tears cascade down her cheeks as she stares at her big brother in horror.

“I’m doing this for you, Celia.”

“No, you’re not. I would never ask for something like this. I don’t want someone to die because of me.”

“He tried to kill you!”

“I know, but he was just following orders, Milo. Maybe he could change. If you kill him, he’ll never have that chance. Look at Drake! Drake was horrible, but he changed in the end. Don’t do this, please,” she begs.

Milo shakes his head as if he can’t believe what she’s saying. He looks down at the man whose life rests in his hands and says, “It’s too late for him.”

Celia screams as the knife flashes across the man’s skin, spilling steaming crimson blood all over the ballroom floor. Milo drops the man and points his murder-stained knife at me. “Come with me now, or so help me, I will give the order to kill every person in this room. It’s your choice, Libby. For once in your life, make the right one.”

Guns inch up into firing position all around the room. Sobs and curses scatter through the crowd. This really wasn’t what most of these guests signed up for when they showed up here tonight. The Ciphers and the rest of my team look grim, but more than ready for a fight. A fight they will lose. There are too many civilians in the room with no clue of how to defend themselves. Even half the Ciphers here are like Celia, trained for healing or hiding, not for combat. The other Ciphers dying, that wasn’t my fault. This will be, though. Milo’s hand starts to move, and I panic.

“I’ll go!” I cry. “Just don’t hurt anyone else, Milo, please.”

His mouth twists into a smile. The others aren’t about to let me go that easily. Lance and Braden dart forward at the same time. “Don’t touch her!” and, “You’re not leaving,” they scream over the top of each other.

I step forward hurriedly. My foot squishes into the spilled blood, making me shiver, but I have to stop them. Milo grabs my arm before I can reach them and holds me back. That only angers Lance and Braden more. “Stay back,” I beg them both.

“I’m not letting him take you,” Braden snarls. Lance’s stance echoes that sentiment.

“He’s not taking me. I’m going with him by choice,” I say. Milo doesn’t seem to appreciate that distinction, but I really don’t care what he thinks right now. “Please just let me go, both of you. I’ll be okay.”

Braden stares at me like I’m crazy. “How are you going to be okay?”

“They’re not going to hurt me, Braden. President Howe wants me alive, at least until my next birthday. I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t trust any of those scumbags,” Lance says, eyeing Milo directly. He never did like Milo. Somehow he knew this was where Milo would end up, psychotic and dangerous. Lance is on the verge of going straight for his throat. Desperate, I beg Hope silently to intervene. Battle hungry as she is, Lance means more to her than killing Guardians. She slips her hand into his and holds him back.

“Enough,” Milo snaps, “we’re leaving. Celia, get over here, now. You’re coming, too.”

“I most certainly am not!” she says.

“Get! Over! Here! Now!”

His yelling only makes her more defiant. She stalks up to him, right to the edge of the blood I’m standing in and stops. “Kill me if you have to, like you did that poor man, but I am not going anywhere with you, Milo.”

Frustration spills out of him in monumental proportions. He turns away from her and yanks me backward toward the Seeker.

“Wait,” I beg.

“What now!” Milo yells.

“Just let me say goodbye. Please, Milo. I just want to say goodbye.” I don’t have to fake the tears running down my cheeks. Despite what I said, I have no guarantee that I won’t be dead the second that Seeker gets his hands on me. My voice quavers when I say, “I won’t try anything. I promise. Let me say goodbye, and I’ll go with you without a fight.”

His hand clenches painfully around my arm as he considers. It’s a risk, but I tap my Spiritualism very slightly and send it toward him. He never has been able to master the subtler arts of any of his talents. Sinking my power into his mind takes the minimum of effort. Finding the emotional center guiding this decision, I nudge it very, very lightly in the right direction.

“Fine,” he says suddenly, “but make it quick.”

I withdraw my Spiritualism quickly and stumble over to Lance. He looks surprised that I came to him first, but I throw my arms around him in a crushing hug, and whisper, “I know you’ll be able to find me, but don’t come for me until my birthday.”

I release him and he regards me curiously.

“Promise me, now,” I hiss.

If there is one person on this planet who has learned to trust me unconditionally, it’s Lance. His fingers press against his emblem and he hurriedly repeats the words. I nod and move on to Hope. For her, it’s just a hug. I know she’ll follow whatever Lance does. Celia comes next. She’s sobbing again as I wrap my arms around her slight frame. I don’t say anything to her. I can’t. There isn’t anything I can think of to say that will make watching her brother murder someone okay. For a few seconds, we simply share each other’s grief. I start to pull back, but she holds me just a moment longer, whispering, “I was wrong about the spirit world.”

Then she pushes me away and turns so she can’t see Milo anymore. I don’t know what her comment means, but I file it away for later. Only Braden is left. He grabs me before I can even turn around. “Don’t do this,” he begs me.

“I have to. I can’t let them kill all these people.” I’m crying as I say it, though. His own tears mingle with mine as he pulls me against his body. “Help Lance. Get everyone ready. This isn’t over yet.”

Braden presses his forehead against mine and quietly asks, “What do you mean?”

“I’ll see you again. On my birthday. Make sure everyone is ready by then, okay?”

The anguish in his heart seems to lessen some and I pray he believes that I know what I’m talking about. It’s my best guess that President Howe is going to hold me until my birthday when he can kill me publicly and come off the glorious conqueror rather than the spineless coward he would be for killing me now. Braden lays his hand against my cheek and kisses me softly.

“I love you, Libby.”

“I love you, too.”

Anything else I wanted to say gets cut off by Milo yanking me out of Braden’s arms. He starts dragging me up the stairs, my blood-drenched shoes leaving a trail of scarlet in their wake. I scramble to get my feet back under me. I don’t get the chance until Braden speaks, stopping Milo cold.

“This isn’t over, Milo. I don’t care how many talents you have, or how many I don’t, but I promise you one thing. My blade is going to be the one that ends your life.”

The fear that sweeps through Milo is surprising. His response isn’t. “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Chapter 29

Time Flies

My cell door clangs shut behind Milo. Lifting my head is beyond me. Whatever drugs they’re giving me are vicious. The most I can do is force my eyes open. His image wavers in front of me, too blurry to pick out any details. Not that I really want to see him, anyway. I try to shy away from him when he moves toward me. All I manage is to twitch helplessly. The drugs make me nauseous enough, but Milo sliding his hands tenderly under my head as if he were helping me rather than holding me captive doubles my urge to vomit. A glass of water being pressed up against my lips clears away that desire immediately. I drink thirstily and wait for the haze to disappear.

Like every other time Milo has come to see me, the water is laced with something to counter the drugs I was already on. Coherent thoughts return to me. Strength seeps back into my body. I still feel weak as I push myself up to a sitting position, but it feels good to be able to move again. I can’t remember how many times we’ve been through this same routine. Has it been weeks or months?

“Here’s your dinner,” Milo says, holding a plate out to me.

I tried refusing at first, but all that got me was painful hunger cramps and more abuse. Not from Milo. Physically, Milo can hit me all he wants, but he’ll feel the pain of his actions doubled back on him. A few times, he’s been so angry I thought he might risk it. Logic, or maybe pride, won out. He’s yet to physically assault me, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt pain since my capture. Each time I didn’t eat he called in some Neanderthal named Thomas and let him kick me around until he got tired. I’m sure that hurt Milo plenty, though not as much as beating me himself would, but he suffered through it like a trooper.

Then they would both leave after drugging me again. I got tired of that real quick. I still held out for a week before finally taking a bite of food just so Milo wouldn’t think I was that easy to break, and also so I could see him jerk in pain every time Thomas hit me, too. I could have held on for longer, but Milo’s pain reminded me that he wasn’t the only one feeling my injuries. Lance was taking every beating along with me, likely being tortured by his promise not to come rescue me. I quit resisting after that.

I’m sure some POWs get to the point where they’d rather die than have to endure captivity another minute. I have too many reasons not to die to let myself go that direction. I promised Braden I would see him again. Milo still believes I broke my promise to him about destroying the Guardians. That’s fine. He can think whatever he wants. I refuse to make myself into a liar when it comes to my promise to Braden. I take the plate of food from Milo and pick up a piece of the chicken with my fingers. He doesn’t trust me enough to let me use a fork.

Like I need a fork to kill him.

What I really need is to figure out how to counteract the drugs on my own. I studied healing with Milo’s dad quite a bit. I was getting pretty good at healing minor injuries, but we hadn’t quite made it to the reversing the effects of toxins and poisons lessons before Milo flipped on me. I’ve been trying to isolate it every time Milo drugs me, but the stuff works so freaking fast that I never have enough time to get it right. I have to find a way to fix that.

“How’s your dinner?” Milo asks.

I lick the grease off my fingers and don’t answer.

“Not in a talkative mood? Fine.” Milo reaches for a second glass of water, the one that will knock me out as soon as it hits my stomach. A little flutter of panic hits me. I’m not ready to sink back into my dreamless hell. I can’t let him see that, though.

I lick one more finger, and say, “Can’t I at least finish eating before you start badgering me?”

Gesturing as if he has all the time in the world, Milo leans back against the cell wall. He lets me eat without saying another word. His blasé attitude about this whole experience irks me more than anything else. I want to slap the calm expression off his face. Instead, I force myself to mirror his unconcern as I pop green peas into my mouth and crunch my way through a thick slice of garlic toast. Whoever does the cooking around here is quite talented. Way better than anything I can come up with. The food has been the only perk of being locked up.

The plate goes back to Milo when I’ve gotten every little scrap possible. He smirks at my thoroughness, knowing I do it purely to stretch out the talk-free time. The Kevlar shackle around my wrist is chained to the wall. It’s too strong to break through, but it is long enough to let me walk around a little. Standing up shows weakness. It would be better if I could bear staying curled up on my bed like a plastic Barbie, not bothered by cramped muscles. That’s a little too much to ask of me, though. I stand up and pace back and forth well out of reach of Milo.

Milo usually starts off our conversations with questions about what I may not have told him about my plan for the Guardians. I guess I can’t blame him for thinking I was hiding things from him, but really, my plans for taking out the Guardians were pretty slim. I still hadn’t figured out what to do about the Cipher Zombies or how to give Braden back his talents. Without those two puzzles being completed, it was hard to plan anything concrete. Tired of repeating myself on that front, I figure I might as well take the lead this time.

“I was wrong,” I say, “about what the prophecy meant.”

Startled, Milo watches me warily for a moment before biting. “What part?”

“The part that said one of my own would be my downfall.” I turn and face him. “I thought Idris meant the Cipher Zombies the Guardians are making, but I was wrong. Idris was talking about you, Milo.”

His face screws up angrily. “That’s not true. I did everything I could to help you, Libby. You’re the one who ruined your chances of wiping out the Guardians.”

“Go ahead and keep telling yourself that,” I say. “The prophecy never mentions me doing anything to jeopardize my chances, just one of my own. You’d think that since the prophecy came from a Seeker, someone who wanted me to fail more than anything, wouldn’t he slip it in if I was going to blow my own destiny before I even tried to start a war?”

Milo clenches his fist together, but doesn’t respond to my taunting.

“Think about it, Milo. Everything you say I did to mess things up also had some pretty big benefits, too. Braden was the only reason we got the Ciphers out in the first place. They’d still be locked in the spirit world without him. Not just because of him giving us the schematics for the compounds, but because his power was the only thing that made it possible for me to perform an Inquest on so many people at once. You think trusting Mr. Walters was a mistake, too, but he told me I needed more of the prophecy and warned us about the Cipher zombies. Do I need to go on? The only decisions I’ve made that have turned out badly have been the ones I listened to you on.”

“Name one,” he says, his anger punching through his shield and filling the little room.

“Only one? I can do better than that. I’ll double it, though I’m sure I can come up with even more if I really try,” I say. Leaning against the wall, I stare down at him. “It was your opinion that Braden shouldn’t go with us on the raid to grab Drake. If I had listened to you, I would be dead right now, because Braden was the only one who wasn’t affected by the talent interference. He saved all of our lives. Not to mention you making Celia stay behind. Did you know she repaired a broken bone and a nicked femoral artery when one of the Ciphers broke their leg before you took me? She saved him from bleeding out in a matter of seconds. She could have saved Hammond. And last, but certainly not least, you kept me from going after Braden when he was taken by the Guardians. If you hadn’t stopped me, I could have gotten him back before Drake ever twisted Braden’s Oath. Braden never would have tried to kill me, and he’d still have his talents and be ready to help me take these monsters down.”

In all reality, Lance was just as big of a factor in keeping me from going after Braden, but as worked up as Milo is right now, he doesn’t bother to think that hard about it. “That’s a bunch of crap, Libby, but even if it wasn’t, you’re still in the same position. You can’t win this fight.”

“You don’t know that.”

He throws his hands up at me. “You just admitted that you couldn’t even get all the Ciphers out of the spirit world without Braden! How are you going to defeat a whole army of Guardians without him? You can’t have it both ways, Libby. Either you need Braden to win or you don’t.”

“Fine,” I snap, “I need him.”

“Then you’re going to lose.”

I walk back to my bed and sit down. For several long minutes, I don’t say anything. When I do speak, I don’t bother looking up at him. “You realize you’re the only one who believes that, right? The Guardians wouldn’t be going to all this trouble to hold me if they weren’t convinced I could beat them.”

“You have no idea what the Guardians think,” Milo says darkly.

I look up, facing his blazing anger and ask, “Do you?”

“I’ve had enough for today,” he says. He stands up and picks the drugged water off the tray.

“How long have I been here?” I ask as he approaches me.

“Six weeks.”

His answer stuns me. “I didn’t realize it had been so long.”

“Time flies when you sleep twenty-three hours a day,” Milo grumbles.

“I was right, then, wasn’t I? President Howe is holding me until my birthday. He’s planning some big spectacular execution for me as soon as my talents are unlocked, right?”

For the first time in as many of these chats as I can actually recall, regret lines Milo’s features. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Libby. Give up. Convince Howe you aren’t a threat and he’ll let you live.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask.

“Because he knows the people are turning on him. Granting you mercy would placate them and keep him in power a little longer. At least until I can take it from him. I can change things. Just promise Howe you won’t stand in his way and he’ll let you live,” Milo says.

“If you believe that, you really are delusional. Nothing I could ever say or do will keep Howe from killing me.”

Milo shakes his head, maybe because he thinks I’m foolish for not believing him, maybe because he knows how wrong he is. Either way, he settles the glass against my lips and tips it up. I let just a few drops slip into my mouth before pulling back. Milo looks surprised and hesitates for a second. All I need is a few more. I tap the smallest amount of Naturalism I can that will still do the job I need it to do, working furiously as I try to distract Milo.

“Do you remember when I asked you about the reason you became my friend,” I ask him.

Suspicious, Milo says, “Yes.”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

He nods, but doesn’t repeat what he said so long ago. My Naturalism courses through my body, gathering up the drug and memorizing its makeup. I need a little more time.

“I asked you if you sought me out because you honestly liked me, or because you saw me as a way to get back at the Guardians.” I pause, lending my concentration to my talent for just a second. I’m almost there. “You told me you were with me only because you wanted to be with me.”

“Yeah,” Milo says slowly. “What’s your question?”

“My question is …” I say, wrapping up my work and storing the information. My Naturalism hovers nearby waiting for when I will need it next. “… did you mean it? Was that really the only reason you were with me back then, because you loved me?”

His answer hurts more than I expect.

“No,” he says. “I did love you, but I also needed you. I would have made you believe I loved if I’d had to in order to get what I wanted from you. I needed a way to hit the Guardians, and you were it.”

He brings the glass back to my lips and spills the water into my mouth. Before my eyes close again, I say, “I only loved you for one reason, Milo. Because you were the first person in my life who made me feel like it was okay to be who I really was. You made me believe in myself for the first time. Thank you for that.”

Chapter 30

Gateway

My eyes stay closed as I listen to Milo lock the door behind him when he leaves. I still don’t open my eyes. The soft echo of Milo’s voice whispering, “I’m sorry,” drifts through the bars. The desire to cry for him builds in my chest until it feels ready to burst. I hold on until the sound of footsteps disappears entirely. Only then, do tears slip down my face and soak into the pillow. It takes me another few minutes to open my eyes. Even longer to lift my head. Rolling far enough to the side for my head to hang over the edge of the bed makes me nauseous. I spit out a clump of white powder. It splatters on the floor unceremoniously.

I know I’ll have to find a way to hide that before Milo comes back, but I’ll worry about that later. The quarter-sized blob of toxin is probably only half of what was inside the glass. I’ll do better next time. For a first attempt, and having no clue what I was doing, using my Naturalism to isolate the chemical structure of the poison and trap even half of it was better than I was expecting. I can hardly move right now, but getting half the dose out of my system means the drugs will wear off twice as fast as usual. Given that Milo visits me once a day, I’ll still be barely mobile for about twelve hours. That gives me close to twelve hours to get in contact with Celia.

Having only an hour a day to think about her last words to me, it took a lot longer to figure it out than it should have. Well, I still didn’t figure it out completely. I get that she wants me to meet her in the spirit world, but I still don’t understand what she meant by being wrong about that place. The day she asked me to try and perform an Inquest on her, she left saying that the spirit world was just an empty place now that the Ciphers weren’t trapped there anymore. She said she was wrong, but what does that mean? If it’s not an empty place, what is it filled with?

There’s only one way to find out.

Every hour or so, I test my Spiritualism. Whatever this crap is Milo keeps making me drink dulls my mental capacity. It takes just as much mental power as it does spiritual power to use my Spiritualism. And since this has always been the talent I’ve struggled to master despite my added power, I need to be at the top of my game. The minutes tick by painfully slow. At first, all I can manage is to get into a trance. Eventually, I’m able to contact my spirit and send out a few feelers. It’s hard to tell time alone in my cell, but I think it’s been about ten hours when I am able to push my spirit away from my body and into the subconscious waiting area that leads to the spirit world.

It’s only my spirit body. Even still, the ability to move around freely feels so good. No chains around my ankle, no tiny little room to suffocate me. For a moment, I simply move each muscle in my body, walk, run, spread my arms and breathe. Then I take off at a sprint toward the barrier. Time is a tricky thing in the spirit world. You never really know how long you’ve been here in physical-world time. The ratio is fluid and unstable. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay. I have to be back in my body, faking being drugged, before Milo comes back to see me. I crash through the barrier and skid to a stop on the other side.

The young Asian man sitting in full lotus position blinks and stares at me like I’m a ghost. “You’re here!” he exclaims.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Alex Takima. Celia recruited me. I go to school with her.”

“What are you doing here? It’s got to be about four in the morning.”

“I’m watching for you. We take shifts. Someone is always here waiting just in case you ever showed up,” he says. Then a light seems to come on in his brain. “I’m supposed to get Celia as soon as you show up. She’s been waiting for you for weeks!”

“Can you get her now?”

He jumps up excitedly. “Yeah, I’ll be right back. I’m going to jump back and call her. Don’t go anywhere.”

Not a problem. He disappears, leaving a puff of ethereal mist in his wake. I count the seconds. Not that it matters, given the time anomaly, but it helps keep me from getting too impatient. I reach just over three minutes before Celia bursts through the boundary behind me. I spin around and catch her in a hug. When she finally pulls back, tears are pouring down her elated face.

“Libby! I can’t believe it’s you. Thank goodness I wasn’t in school or my ballet teacher would probably be wondering what on earth I was doing lying in the middle of the dance floor, but I wouldn’t have cared. I couldn’t believe it when Alex called. I jumped as soon as he gave me the message.” Her hands cover her mouth as she giggles. “Lance kept telling us you were still alive, but after all the pain he felt from you we started getting scared that they were doing something really bad to you. We couldn’t figure out why you hadn’t met me here yet.”

“Milo’s been drugging me,” I explain. “How long has it been since he took me?”

“Six weeks.”

I shake my head in frustration. We sit down in the mists across from each other. “I was hoping he was lying about how long it’s been. I only remember about three weeks of being held. They must have kept me drugged nonstop for the first couple weeks.”

“Have they really been hurting you? Braden is a mess. All he can think about is whether or not they’re torturing you,” Celia says.

Like they did him. The scars across his chest have to be a constant reminder to him of how sick the Guardians are.

“When they first let me wake up, they kicked me around a little, but it wasn’t a big deal. I hope Lance didn’t suffer too much. Nobody has hurt me in a while. I’m okay. Tell Braden I’m fine, now, and tell Lance I’m sorry.”

“Lance wasn’t hurt that bad. It was knowing that you were in pain and not being able to help you that was the worst part. For him and Braden. Every time Lance started feeling the pain, Braden was right there. He wouldn’t leave him alone for a second. It’s been so hard for him not to come find you,” Celia says.

Thinking of him melts my bravado. My mouth starts twitching and pulling into frowns I can’t control. Before I can stop myself, I’m crying like a baby. “I miss him so much. Is he okay? I know he must hate himself for not trying to stop me from going. Is he alright?”

Celia wraps me up in hug and shushes me like I’m a small child who has just skinned her knee. It’s what I need, though. She holds onto me and says, “He’s okay, Libby. It was really hard for him at first, but me and Lance have been keeping him really busy training the new recruits and checking on the Ciphers all over the world. We run him so ragged, he barely even has time to breathe, but that’s the way he wants it right now. He just breaks down if he thinks about where you are for too long.”

“I hate not being able to feel him around me. Not having him near me is worse than being beaten by that thug, Thomas. I can’t even dream about him because the drugs put me under too deeply.” That has been agony for me. I have so many good memories of Braden sitting around my mind just waiting to be accessed.

“How are you here now? Did Milo stop drugging you?” Celia asks.

“No, I figured out how to keep the drugs from getting into my bloodstream using my Naturalism. It worked well enough.”

Celia just stares at me. “You what?”

“I gathered the drug back up and spit it out,” I say, unsure of myself now. “I only got about half of it, though, or I would have been here sooner.”

“I … I can’t believe you were able to do that, Libby. There are people who train for years, decades, to work as Cures. They’re called in when people are poisoned or bitten by something. They try to heal the person by removing the venom or toxin,” Celia says. “Cures are the absolute best at what they do, but they’re success rate is only about ten percent. You did it with no training at all, and got half the drug back out. That’s incredible!”

“Uh, great, Celia, but I don’t know how long I can stay here. I have to get back before Milo brings me my next meal. Can we discuss the weirdness of what I can do some other time?” I ask.

“Sure, as long as you show me how to do it later.”

I nod and she grins. “So, what has been going on at the training house? You said something about new recruits?”

“Yeah, your friend Jen, she posted the video of Milo storming in and taking you,” Celia says, the corner of her mouth pulling down into a frown at the mention of what her brother did. She struggles to get it under control. “Anyway, it went viral within an hour. After what happened … after Milo …” She has to stop again. Images of Milo slitting that man’s throat color my vision and I cringe. “After seeing what the Guardians were willing to do to innocent people, a lot more recruits have come to us wanting to help. It’s mostly been teens, and people around Braden’s age who get worked up easier than older people, but even the parents and grandparents are getting on board by supporting their family members who want to help. It’s been amazing to see.”

“What else?” I ask. “Have you gotten any closer to coming up with a plan for my birthday?”

“I’m working hard on figuring out the Cipher zombie thing. They had to have combined their power somehow. Me and a few others have been experimenting on how to replicate it. I think we’re getting close.”

“Anything about giving talents back?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Libby, but that one’s going to have to be all you. You’re the only one capable of taking talents. I’ve had some Perceptives try looking at Braden, and they can’t even sense the emptiness you can.”

“Now that I know how to counter the drugs, I’ll be able to at least have time to try and figure it out. I won’t have anything else to do,” I say.

“We know where you are,” Celia says. “Lance tracked you down the day after you were taken. They’re holding you in Denver. It’s not a regular Guardian compound so we can’t use the schematics from Braden to get you out.”

“You’re not trying to get me out anyway. Lance promised. You guys have to wait until my birthday.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s when Howe is going to release me.”

“He’s only going to let you out so he can kill you,” Celia reminds me.

I smirk only a tiny portion of my anger, directing it at the mists surrounding me. “Yeah, we’ll see how that works out for him, won’t we.”

The truth of that statement weighs down on me. I don’t have a choice, actually. All I can do is sit in my cell and wait. Howe will send Milo to drag me out in public where he will dramatically insist I give up my destiny and swear some kind of medieval fealty to him even though he knows I’d rather eat live scorpions than ever give in to him. He’ll wait for the moment my diktats flare, the signal that my talents have been fully unlocked, and I’ve truly become the Destroyer. That is the moment he will kill me, if his information about me is good enough. He might be in for a surprise if it isn’t.

Pulling my thoughts away from Howe and his righteous sword of murderous dreams, I remember the reason I came here in the first place. Celia’s last words to me before I was taken. “Celia, what did you mean when you said you were wrong about the spirit world?”

Her whole face blossoms into pure excitement. Celia jumps up and motions for me to do the same. “You’re not going to believe this,” she gushes. “You have to come with me!”

I stumble up beside her. Celia wastes no time on explanations, grabbing my hand and towing me along behind her as she zips through the mists. I really need to figure out how to speed travel better so I don’t have to bounce along behind people like baggage. “Where are we going?”

“To the Central Expanse. You’re going to flip when you see this!”

“Can’t you just tell me?” I ask as we slam to a stop.

“No,” Celia says. “You have to see it. But we’re here, anyway.”

I push my tangled hair out of my face and peer around the empty space. I want to ask what I’m supposed to be so hyped about, but Celia is already talking again.

“I figured it out the day you were taken,” Celia says. “Everything with Lance’s party and the way Milo was acting got a little overwhelming. Not to mention, I had a big performance coming up at school. I needed some alone time, but the training house was filled to the brim with people. I couldn’t find a single quiet place. That’s when I thought about the spirit world. I’d been there a few times already for training. They were mostly short trips, though, and I stayed near the barrier. When I went into the spirit world, I didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone else coming through so I went further in, to the Central Expanse. Here.”

She pulls me to the very center of the area, to the edge of a circular depression in the ground. It’s the only one like it I’ve ever seen in the spirit world, but no one could ever tell me why it was there. Celia stares at it excitedly.

“I was just sitting here thinking, at first, but after a while I noticed how different the spiritual energy felt here. It wasn’t like near the barrier.”

I hadn’t really noticed before, but now that Celia has mentioned it, this place does feel different. It’s odd because I’ve been here dozens of times and it has never felt like this before. Usually in the spirit world, the flow of spiritual energy seems to follow the current of the mists. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, the energy was always just here, before, like the ocean. It wasn’t fed by any source like a lake is fed by a river. It was just a body of mist. Now I can feel the distinct pouring in of spiritual energy. It’s fresh and wonderful, like swimming in feathers. There is no doubt that the source is the depression in front of us.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s a gateway.”

I look over at Celia in confusion. “A gateway? What do you mean? A gateway to where?”

“Not to where, from where. We can’t go through it, but others can come here,” she explains in a way that leaves me completely bewildered. “When I noticed the difference, I decided to poke around. So I gathered my own spiritual energy and sent it into the gateway.”

“Celia, that could have been dangerous!”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking, but it turned out all right. Putting my energy in opened up the gateway and they all came rushing through,” she says, her eyes alight and eager. “Pay attention so you can do it on your own next time.”

She starts gathering her energy and I panic. “Who came through? Celia, wait! Maybe you should explain things a little more before you just dive in again.”

Too late. Energy hurtles into the depression and the mists suddenly push away. Her energy seems to hover over the depression for a few seconds. Neither of us dares to take a breath. We watch as it sinks down slowly, an empty space forming at the center and growing larger. Startled, I take a step back. Celia does the opposite. When the emptiness engulfs the depression entirely the power stops. At first I don’t think anything is going to happen, then, mist starts pouring out of the gateway. It doesn’t remain mist for long, though. As soon as it clears the gateway, it coalesces into a shape, into a body. More and more forms emerge from the gateway.

“Celia,” I whisper, “what’s happening? Who are these people?”

“They’re ghosts!” she whispers back, her excitement making her voice turn high and squeaky.

“What?”

She nods. Her whole body bounces along with her head. “Before the Spiritualists locked the Ciphers in here, this is what people used the spirit world for, to talk to people who had passed on. Locking the Ciphers here did something to the gateway so it wouldn’t work anymore, but once they were gone it started working again. They just needed someone to activate it so they could come through.”

“These people are dead?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ve only told a few people I can absolutely trust about it, and they have been coming here trying to find people they’ve lost. It’s been amazing,” Celia gushes. “It’s hard to find who you’re looking for, though, because I guess it’s pretty difficult to get through for them. The ones who’ve been dead the longest have the easiest time, because they’ve had more time to figure things out. People who were Spiritualists in life can come pretty easily, too, but it’s still hard to find who you’re looking for most of the time.”

“These people are all dead. You can talk to people who’ve died.” I can’t believe this. I turn to Celia in my astonishment, and say, “Celia, that means …”

“Libby?”

His rough voice has been softened by death, but I would recognize it anywhere. Tears well in my eyes and spill over in a torrent of joy. I turn around slowly, and meet his gaze.

“Dad,” I whisper, “you’re here.”

Chapter 31

Strangest Thing

The moment of shock wears off quickly and I run to him. Right before I throw my arms around him, I wonder if I’ll just pass through, but our spirit bodies collide softly and his arms encircle me. My tears evaporate before they even make it down my chin. So do my dad’s. Thoughts of getting back before Milo finds me dissolve under my dad’s touch. We hold each other and cry like there is no time or reality.

A lifetime later, my dad pulls back enough to see my face. New tears spring up as he touches my face gently. “Libby,” he sobs, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” I say.

“I tried to change who you were. I left you to face all of this alone. I’m so sorry, Little Libby.” His whole body shakes as he weeps in earnest.

“Dad, it’s all right. Please don’t cry. Everything is all right, I promise,” I say.

Suddenly, his sobbing turns into rueful laughter. I look at him, worried his ghost self isn’t entirely stable. Who knows what happens to your mind after you die. He notices my concern and attempts to calm himself down. “I’m sorry, Libby, it’s just that I never thought you would be the one telling me everything would be all right. That was always my job.”

“Things have changed a lot since the last time you had to pull me out of one of my messes.”

“I know, sweetheart. Just seeing you, so grown up and beautiful, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed.” His eyes tear up again, but he holds them back. “And speaking of growing up, I want to hear about this young man you’re seeing. Braden, right?” he asks, looking over at Celia.

She nods happily. My eyes snap between them in disbelief.

“You’ve met my dad?” I ask Celia.

“A few weeks ago. He had a hard time getting here at first since he wasn’t a Spiritualist in life, but he came looking for you. I’ve caught him up on most of what’s been going on. The dead can’t see anything happening in the physical world like the Ciphers could,” Celia explains.

I look back at my dad in amazement. I want to stay here forever, but I know that can’t happen. “Dad, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay. I have to get back before Milo brings me dinner in my cell …”

My dad cringes at the mention of both Milo and my cell. Celia must have been very thorough in her explanation of my exploits.

“Libby,” Celia says, “I can go and come back before it’s time for Milo to come. That way you can visit with your dad without worrying about time.”

“I’m not for sure when Milo comes. I think it’s usually right before sunset.” The small shadow that grows dimmer as the light fades while Milo questions me is the only indication of time I have in my cell.

“He comes at six o’clock,” she says. When I look at her in confusion, she explains. “Lance. Those weeks where you were in pain, he felt it every day starting at six. Just to be safe, I’ll come back for you an hour before, okay? Stay with your dad until I come to get you. That way you won’t have to wonder.”

My heart expands with love for my friend. I pull her into a crushing hug, and whisper, “Thank you, Celia.”

She nods, smiling, and disappears.

Turning back to my dad, filled with relief, his stoic expression startles me. I know that look. It says I’m about to get in trouble. What on earth could he possibly …?

“Twenty-three?” he demands.

Oh. He’s serious, but I can’t help grinning. “Dad, please, you should be happy I’m dating someone who’s mature and level-headed. You weren’t exactly thrilled when Lance and I started dating because you said he was too reckless. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I know, but twenty-three? Really?” he complains. “He’s too old for you.”

“No, he’s not,” I say softly. “He’s exactly right for me. In every way.”

“Because he’s your Companion?”

“No, because he’s the only one who keeps me from forgetting this world is filled with as much love and beauty as it is hate and darkness,” I say. “And because I love him more than I have ever loved anyone, and he loves me just as much.”

My dad is silent for a long time. I’m afraid he’s going to fight me about this, which seems silly with everything else I’m facing. I wait silently, nervously. The slow turn of his frown into a smile lets me finally take a breath. “You really love him that much?” my dad asks.

“I really do,” I say with a grin.

“Then I guess I can’t complain. But I do want to meet him.”

That sours my expression. I hold up my wrist with its three sets of diktats. “That’s not going to be easy. Not only did I break Braden’s link to me as my Companion, I also stole his ability to come here. Until I figure out how to give his talents back …”

My dad takes my upraised hand and runs his fingers delicately across the black diktats. No doubt he’s reliving the night he tried to do the same thing and failed. Grief and regret plague him. Suddenly he shakes off those emotions and looks up at me. “You didn’t break your connection with Braden, Libby. You’re still Companions.”

“What?”

“The bond is still there, it’s just suppressed because his talents are gone. It’s the talents that amplify the connection. Without them, you can’t feel the effects of being Companions,” he says.

I try to contain the bubble of joy rising inside of me because of the lingering reality. “But, Dad, even if that’s true, I still can’t use the Companion link to help me unless I figure out a way to give Braden his talents back. You don’t know how to reverse the Serqet, do you?”

He shakes his head. I can’t stop myself from growling in frustration. “Mr. Walters said you could help me!”

“What do you mean?” my dad asks.

“Before he died, he left me a message that told me what he did wasn’t the first time I’d been betrayed. He had to have been talking about you. And the prophecy said I had to learn from the person who tried to take everything from me and failed, that I had to learn from it and use it to win. It has to mean you trying to perform the Serqet. There’s an answer there somewhere. I just can’t figure it out!”

My dad’s face crumples, his body drooping in shame. “I did betray you, didn’t I?”

Realizing how my words must have seemed like a vicious accusation, I hurriedly try to apologize. “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s the truth.”

“You were trying to help. I understand that, Dad. And to be honest, at the time, if you would have told me what you wanted to do, I would have been all for it. I didn’t want to be the Destroyer any more than you wanted me to,” I said.

“But you wouldn’t say that, now, would you?” he asks, pride shining in his eyes.

I shake my head. “No. Even with everything I’ve been through because of who I am, I won’t choose to hide. I believe what I’m doing is important, and worth the risk. I have to see this through to the end. Whatever that may be.”

My dad steps over to me, his arms cradling me in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Libby.”

“You might want to save that until I actually win,” I say. “I still have so much to figure out.”

“Well, I may not know how to reverse a Serqet,” he says, “but I think I might be able to help you with something else.”

“What?”

“Dorotabos.”

“What?” I ask again.

“Cipher zombies, Dorotabos, whatever you want to call them.”

My mouth quirks up at hearing this new nickname for the Cipher zombies. “Who came up with that name?”

“Alex Takima was the one who started it,” my dad says. “Apparently he speaks his native Japanese, and as soon as the others heard him using the name Dorotabos, it kind of stuck.”

Like everyone else seems to have done, I find myself liking the nickname quite a bit. I quickly decide to adopt it. It sounds way better than saying we were trying to find a way to kill zombies like a pack of B-movie characters. I’m sure Lance is the only one who might not appreciate the change. Given his fascination with the undead, he always loved the idea of becoming a zombie slayer.

My dad’s fingers start tapping against his leg like they always used to do when he got excited. The movement draws my attention back to him. His tapping always promised something interesting. “Ever since Celia mentioned the problem with the Dorotabos creatures, I’ve been thinking about them and asking some of the other spirits about it.”

“And?”

“Your idea about the Guardians bypassing the need to unlock the Cipher’s talents is wrong,” he says bluntly.

He never was one to sugarcoat things. Every time I broke a bone or screwed something up, he would first make sure I was okay, and then say something like, “Libby, that was a very foolish thing to do.” Then he would usually go on to explain why whatever I had done was not a good idea. Knowing that, I wait for him to continue.

“If there’s one thing the Guardians haven’t lied about, it’s the impossibility of hijacking talents before they’re unlocked. Every class and faction in the world has tried with no success. Even Inquisitor Moore and I experimented with it because he thought that with my power I might be able to do it,” he says. “I couldn’t do a thing.”

“So, do you have any insight about what the Guardians did do?” I ask, trusting his assessment. I tried to get at Celia’s talents for quite a while before her Inquest and failed. And let’s face it, if I can’t do it, it probably really is impossible.

“Actually,” my dad says, “I do. You can’t hijack talents, but what you can do is force your own talents into someone else. It has to be someone whose talents haven’t been unlocked and it takes an incredible amount of power, which I’m still not sure how they acquired. The people I talked to said it was pretty much impossible, but that’s what people said about the Serqet, too.”

Which brings me back to the question Braden asked me when I first told him about the Dorotabos. How did the Guardians get that much power? I still don’t believe there are seven Guardians more powerful than me. They have to be combining their power. My dad hasn’t figured that out yet, so I leave it alone for now. I’ll have plenty of time to think about it back in my cell.

“Could we do something like that with Braden to get him into the spirit world?” I ask. “Without hurting him?”

He grimaces. “I don’t know if you even could, since his talents are gone, not simply unlocked. There has to be a talent pool in the person for someone to connect with for control. For example, you couldn’t force Naturalism into a person without any Naturalism to start with. Their body isn’t equipped to use it. But based on what happened to the Ciphers, I wouldn’t risk trying it on Braden anyway, Libby. You’re better off trying to combine power with him.”

“Is there really a difference?”

“Of course. Doing what the Guardians did involves overtaking the person and controlling their ability to access their talents, even the small amount most people can use before they’re unlocked. Combining power should work similar to a Companion link. It will amplify the other person’s talents. For Braden it would simply give him access to a talent,” my dad explains.

Huh, good to know if only we could figure out how to combine power. I’ll keep thinking on it, but I need to get back to the real reason for this discussion.

“When the Guardians put their power into the Dorotabos, does it just stay there, or do they have to stay in contact somehow?” I ask.

“They have to stay in contact. I know for a fact that it is impossible to leave your power inside of someone else,” he says. An air of guilt spreads out from him in waves. He doesn’t keep the reason behind it secret. “I tried once to force my Concealment on you, Libby, to bind some of your talents and hide them. I thought I could keep the Inquisitor from seeing everything. Not only was it so physically draining to do it in the first place, I couldn’t simply do the binding and then leave it. I would have had to maintain contact the entire time.”

I believe what he’s saying, but I still shake my head. “But the power dropped away as soon as they finished with the Cipher. If they were maintaining contact it had to be minimal.”

He thinks about that, and says, “I was trying to completely hide one of your talents. Hiding something is always harder than exposing it. That’s why Concealers get what they’re after so often. Very few people have the strength to resist them. Perhaps after they embed their power in the Cipher, who can no longer resist once they’re done, it doesn’t take much power to keep the link. They might even be able to link with more than one Dorotabos.”

“So getting rid of the Dorotabos means getting rid of the Guardians controlling them first,” I muse. “We were planning on doing that anyway. We’ll just have to try and figure out where they are and target them first. I’d like to leave as many Ciphers alive as possible, just in case they can be revived later.”

I start making a list in my head of things the team needs to start working on. Maybe they can test out how far away the controller can get from the controlee. Knowing how far away the Guardians are from the Dorotabos will help us locate them when the real battle starts. We will have to take them out as soon as possible. As the list starts forming in my mind, another list comes with it, a list of questions that have been bugging me. One in particular sticks in my mind. I don’t really know if my dad will have the answer, but I decide to ask him anyway.

“Do you have any idea why the Ciphers don’t have Vision? It’s the only talent they don’t have, but I do. I keep thinking there should be some obvious reason, one that will help me, but I can’t figure it out. I try to use my Vision on the Ciphers, but it isn’t any more reliable directed at them than anyone else. It’s been particularly unreliable lately which so many variables up in the air.”

My dad smiles. “I can’t say I know for sure, but I have a guess, if you want to hear it.” I nod eagerly. “Celia told me about how Seekers can’t see you or the Ciphers. Normally, whether or not you have Vision makes no difference in a Visionary’s ability to see you, but Vision is unique among talents in that it is granted certain governance. Vision can only see people in the same caste.”

“Caste? What do you mean? There’s no caste named at an Inquest.”

“Your caste isn’t named. It’s shown.” He gestures at my arm and the black diktats looping my wrist. “Castes aren’t me guessing, though. Castes are a known fact, well, known to Inquisitors anyway. They never mention the caste because people are supposed to believe there is only one caste. My guess about why Ciphers don’t have Vision is that you took it all.”

“No I didn’t,” I argue. “They’d be imprinted on my arm if I’d somehow stolen their talents without meaning to.”

Laughing, my dad says, “That’s not how I meant it. Like I said, Vision can only see within its caste, but you can see both castes. You can also use your Vision much more than anyone else, from what I’ve heard. You needed a lot of power to cross that barrier. All of the Vision in your caste was consolidated in you, so you can keep your members safe and help them win this war.”

“Huh.” That’s all I can say to him. It makes perfect sense. I guess. It makes me feel a little bad that I may have sucked up everyone else’s ability to glimpse the future or get premonitions and insights, but even more, it settles a heavy mantle of responsibility on my shoulders. I already knew I had to protect the Ciphers, but now I feel their dependence even more. Instinct tells me my dad is right about this, but it does bring up another question.

“I always thought you figured out who I was because you saw a vision of me. I remember sitting on the couch with you that day. Your body went stiff, and when I tried to call for mom you wouldn’t let me.”

Pain etches itself deep into my dad’s expression. “I did see a vision that day, and it confirmed who you were to me.”

“But how?” I argue. “You said Visionaries can only see their own caste, and we’re not in the same one.”

“I didn’t see you, but just like the Seekers could only see your coming by the effects you had on members of their caste, I saw the effect you would have on me,” he says quietly.

Years of fear coalesce in this one moment of understanding. “You saw me kill you. Why did you go through with it if you knew you would die?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t see you kill me, Libby. I only saw my death, and the vision gave me the impression that I would die if I didn’t help you. I made the wrong choice about how to protect you and it cost me. I didn’t understand at the time that supporting you as the Destroyer would be helping you. I thought the only help I could offer was to change who you were.”

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” I say as I hug him. He hugs me back, whispering the same apology to me.

A rush of air next to me announces Celia’s arrival.

Turning around to face her, my disappointment wells. “It’s time to go already?”

“I came back a little early to see if you or your dad had any messages for me, but we probably only have about fifteen minutes before time’s up,” Celia says.

As quickly as I can, I summarize everything me and my dad talked about. My instructions for what I want everyone to do next follows. It doesn’t take more than five minutes. The next few minutes are for saying goodbye to my dad and closing the gateway with Celia’s help. Standing alone with Celia in the now empty Central Expanse, her face turns giddy and embarrassed at the same time.

“What?” I ask, stepping back a step.

She laughs at my wariness. “I mentioned to Braden that I you finally made it to the spirit world as soon as I got to the training house. Poor guy. I’ve never seen him so frustrated. He was practically bouncing off the walls trying to figure out a way to get here. Lance almost had to punch him to get him to calm down.”

My whole chest seizes up. I want to see him so badly. I’ve been able to sleep through most of our separation. It’s saved me from going crazy missing him. Braden has been forced to slog through every moment we’ve been apart.

“Did you tell him how much I miss him?” I ask, trying not to cry.

“I did,” Celia says, “and he had a message for you, too. He said to tell you, the next time you’re together, you won’t have to ask. He didn’t say what you wouldn’t have to ask for, but I’m assuming you do.”

A slow smile creeps onto my lips. I absolutely do. Not that I didn’t already assume he would be as incapable as I’ll be to stay away from him for even a second when we finally get back together, knowing he’ll stay with me every night makes going back to my cell much more bearable.

“He also wanted me to kiss you for him, but hopefully knowing he’s dying to get his hands on you again is enough, ‘cause that’s just not going to happen. Sorry.”

I just laugh. Then my giggling melts into sniffling. The last night I had with Braden before all this happened was so filled with party prep and craziness that we hardly spent any time together. Him catching me in my room and helping with my dress …hmm. Remembering how we left things makes me want to give in to Milo’s drugs so I won’t have to miss him for so long. I still have seven months until my birthday. That thought insights tears.

“Celia,” I say, “I know you’ve got a ton of stuff to do already, but finding out how to get Braden here … well, I …”

She smiles and pats my shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Blinking back tears, I hug her tightly. As soon as I let go, we make plans to meet again and she disappears. I start pulling my spirit back to my body as well, hoping Celia will figure out how to get Braden to the spirit world. I am desperate to see him again, but as I think of everything that happened here today, another reason to have Braden come to the spirit world pops into my mind. Nobody can argue with the fact that being friends with me often means delving into the dangerous and bizarre. Braden has been through a lot with me already. Meeting my dead father is definitely going to be the strangest thing I’ve ever asked him to do.

Chapter 32

Combining

Milo doesn’t bat an eye as Thomas backhands me. I guess he’s desensitized himself to my pain at this point. After five months of holding me captive and pestering me for answers, you would think Milo would realize I wasn’t going to tell him anything. It’s especially infuriating that he’s still trying to get me to tell him my plans, since as far as he knows I haven’t been in contact with anyone from my team since he took me. I guess I lied to him often enough that it doesn’t matter. He’s convinced I’m hiding something.

Squatting down next to me on the floor, Milo lifts my chin. Blood from my split lip dribbles over his hand. He’s trembling as much as I am, but he refuses to give up. “Libby, just tell me what I want to know and this can stop.”

“I don’t know what the others are planning, but if you let me call them I’m sure they’d be happy to share,” I mumble through a mouthful of blood.

His fingers clamp down around my jaw. “Stop this, Libby! I know you have some plan for fighting the Cipher creations. You avoided talking about them before I brought you here. You were hiding your plans from me. I know you were!”

I avoided talking about the Dorotabos because I had no idea what to do about them. I didn’t exactly want to parade that around in front of people who believed I had everything under control. He shakes me furiously. Even when he stops, my battered body keeps reeling. Three Milos swim in front of me. I have to close my eyes to clear my vision. It helps some, but the pain remains, throbbing deep into my bones. A groan slips out of me. My Naturalism begs for release. It could soothe my injuries in minutes, but I can’t risk using it. Ever since Milo started letting Thomas beat me again he’s been giving me a new drug during these questioning sessions that is supposed to dull me enough that I can’t use more than a trickle of my talents. It caught me by surprise the first time and worked beautifully.

Milo drops me back to the ground and growls in frustration. I push myself up off the floor, wiping blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. My side begs me not to move. Thomas did a fabulous job kicking me earlier. I’ve had just about enough of this for today. Time to turn this session around, even if it results in another beating.

“Do you honestly think Howe expects you to get anything out of me, Milo?” I ask. I spit the blood out of my mouth and stare up at him. “He’s manipulating you. You admitted to everyone the day you took me that you plan on taking his job. He has you babysitting me so he has an excuse to keep you out of the loop. Howe plans on killing me, we all know that, but do you even realize that he has every intention of killing you, too?”

Milo’s face screws up in anger. I don’t let up.

“Howe became president because he was the most ruthless, brutal man in the world. There is no way he’s going to let you live long enough to challenge him. He knows you’re going to be more powerful than him as soon as your talents are unlocked. Which will be what, a few weeks from now?”

I know that his birthday was yesterday thanks to my visits to the spirit world, but I’m not supposed to have any clear reckoning of time in here. My words finally start to sink in with Milo. His anger is suddenly laced with doubt.

“Oh, don’t worry about your birthday, Milo,” I say. “Howe will keep you alive until all of this is over. He needs you to show the world I’m not as powerful as they think I am. He needs to parade you around as a traitor.”

“You’re just trying to manipulate me,” Milo says through his teeth.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. Two seconds after Howe kills me, he’ll kill you, too.”

Fire sparks around him. Literally. It’s something he learned to do with his Naturalism from his new buddies, igniting particles of matter in the air. I think it was supposed to be a secret, but as usual, when Milo gets really upset he has a hard time controlling his talents. I’ve already taught it to Celia. Blowing out a long breath, Milo calms himself down.

“Thomas, we’re done here for today.”

Thomas grumbles and stalks out of the room. He’s only ever happy if he’s torturing someone. Milo almost follows him out, remembering the glass of drugged water before leaving me to suffer. The glass bangs against my tender lip. Half the water spills down my shirt. It makes my job of corralling the toxin easier, but it also makes my t-shirt stick to my chest. Luckily, Milo is too pissed off to notice. He storms out and slams the door behind him. I only slump down to my mattress out of habit, not any fear of Milo watching me. I still wait a good ten minutes before spitting the toxin into a hole in my mattress.

A few minutes later, I’m standing in the spirit world. Just inside the barrier, a small group of people turn to greet me. There are only three of them since Celia is keeping as many people out of the spirit world as possible. Only the most trusted members of our group have been told the truth about what can be found here now that the Ciphers are gone. It’s hard to keep something like being able to see people who have passed on a secret, but it’s necessary right now. We can’t risk someone letting slip that I’m coming here every day. I don’t want to think about what the Guardians would do to me if they found out.

Walking over to the group, I hug Hope and receive a clap on the back from Kyla. The third member is my favorite sentry. Alex Takima shakes my hand firmly. His grip always momentarily surprises me. His slight dancer’s build looks like it should be fragile, but he has a lot of lean muscle packed onto his frame. None of them comment on my injuries. They’re used to them by now, and used to my irritated responses when they do try to ask.

“I’ll let Celia know you’re here,” Alex says. Focus lines his features as he prepares to depart, but I catch his arm before he goes.

“If she’s in the middle of class, wait. I don’t want her looking like she’s passed out mid-pirouette again.”

Alex laughs and nods. Celia has calmed down considerably since joining us, but she still lets her excitement get the better of her every once in a while.

“Oh, and feel free to give her a kiss goodbye before she leaves,” I say, making Alex’s eyes widen. “It always helps her relax better when she’s here.”

“She told you?” Alex asks.

Me and the other girls chuckle. “Of course she did. Celia’s terrible about keeping secrets like that.”

He blushes, and says, “It wasn’t really a secret. We just didn’t want anyone to think we weren’t putting all our effort into training.”

“No one thinks that, Alex,” I say, my voice filled with longing. If I could be with Braden right now, there’s absolutely no chance I’d be training.

The three around me quiet under the pressure of my deflated mood. My emotions are locked up tight, as usual, but pain slips away from Kayla and Hope to wrap around me. Both keep coming here, but neither one has been able to contact the ones they want. Hammond and Mr. Walters are still too newly gone to manage reaching the spirit world. I thought that was very unfair at first, but as I watch the tears form in Kayla’s eyes I see the value in not being able to reach Hammond so soon. If she could find him today and visit him every day after, there is no way she would ever move on and look for love again. I suppose there are more substantial reasons for the newly dead remaining out of reach, but things like that seem to work out for the best, regardless.

“I’ll go get Celia,” Alex says. He pops away from us quietly.

In an attempt to make up for depressing everyone with my sullenness, I turn to Hope and Kayla. I am about to ask them about the Capoeira lessons Braden has instigated at the training house for everyone. Alex whooshes back into the spirit world, surprising all of us. We all stare at him.

“Where’s Celia?” I ask.

“She’ll be here in a minute. She has to go back to the training house first.”

“Why?”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know. She said she has a surprise for you and rushed off without explaining.”

“Wasn’t she at school?” I ask. When Alex is working as sentry, it usually means Celia’s at school since he’s the only one that can reach her there. School gets out hours before Milo comes to abuse me, but she’s been there rehearsing until at least six o’clock for the last few weeks. He shakes his head, though.

“We were just finishing up a rehearsal for our duet. You’re later than usual.”

Thanks to Milo and his persistence. “Why did she have to go to the training house? She can’t bring anything with her.”

“It must have something to do with why she cancelled our plans last night. She said she was getting close to something,” Alex says. He gives me an apologetic shrug. “She said she’d meet you at the gateway and for the rest of us to go home and get back to work.”

The girls give a few cursory grumbles, but say goodbye and are off. Alex is about to follow, but pauses. “Do you need help getting to the gateway?”

“No,” I say, grimacing at how familiar he is with my limitations here. “I’ve gotten a lot better at speed travelling over the past couple months, thanks to Celia. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, then. I’ve got to get back and finish rehearsing. Celia says my grand fouettés still need work.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Good luck with that. See you tomorrow.”

He dissolves into the mist and I focus my mind and energy on travelling. Concentrating on my destination, I push my power away from me. The jolt of movement is encouraging. My eyes stay closed as I move. No need to distract myself. I don’t need to see where I’m going, anyway. I only need to sense where I am. That was really what was keeping me from picking this up earlier. I couldn’t imprint the different feel of each area onto my mind. Spending so much time here with no distractions has finally let me do that. I jerk to a painful stop and open my eyes. Rubbing my neck, I remind myself to work on perfecting my takeoffs and landings.

I’m the first one here, so I sit down next to the gateway. Usually, I would open it up, but I’m not sure what Celia has in mind for today. If I’m going to need to concentrate I’d rather not have a bunch of ghost milling around. Instead, I sit and practice training techniques to pass the time.

It isn’t a sound that alerts me, but a feeling. A feeling I haven’t felt in ages. Pure, exhilarating excitement yanks me up from the ground. I spin around and gasp at the sight of Braden. Every inch of my spirit body flushes with energy. I’m running toward him before I can even think to make my legs move. I don’t need thought when it comes to Braden. My love takes control and flings me toward him.

“Braden!” I screech as I crash into him. My elation knocks him over, taking me with him. The mists bury us immediately. Good thing, because I’m kissing Braden with no hope of coming up for air. He isn’t holding back, either. I’m pressed as tight to his body as he can possibly get me. Fire races through me from lips to toes. If there was actually any air here to ignite, I’m sure miniature fireworks would be going off all around me.

The moment comes to an end way too quickly when Braden pushes me back gently and sits up with me in his lap. His eyes sweep over me, bringing on a frown. “Libby, you’re hurt.”

I frantically wave him off. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

Braden turns to glare at Celia, who I didn’t even realize was there. She looks down guiltily. “You didn’t say she was getting beaten again,” Braden accuses.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” I say in Celia’s defense. I’d asked her to keep Lance away from Braden during Milo’s visits in order to keep Braden from knowing what was happening.

“How long has this been going on?”

“It’s really only been bad the last couple weeks,” I say, “but after today, I’m hoping it won’t happen anymore. I gave Milo something to think about. He should be a little distracted trying to figure out whether Howe is really planning on killing him as soon as I’m out of the way.”

Celia’s whimper dulls Braden’s sudden flash of vengeance. I glance over at her apologetically. We’ve already discussed the likelihood of Milo’s fate. He betrayed everyone who ever loved him. Me, Celia, his parents, every one of the Ciphers. He chose his path, and whatever fate that leads to is out of our hands. I know it is still heartbreaking to think of her brother dying. Despite what he’s done to me, I don’t like the idea of him being killed, either. She struggles to control her emotions. I can feel her tapping her Naturalism to accomplish a small measure of composure.

Braden’s fingers drift over my split lip and bruised cheekbone. Frustration and anger boil around him. Taking his face in my hands, I kiss his frowning lips gently. “I’m okay, Braden. Just don’t think about it.” His body tenses at the suggestion. I hurry on, saying, “Don’t waste our time together being angry about this. I don’t want you to be unhappy while we’re together.”

That softens his anger considerably. His hand drifts to the back of my neck and pulls me closer. His mouth drinks me in, trying desperately to make up for five months of being apart. It isn’t enough. His hand presses against my back, sliding under the edge of my shirt. A delicious shiver runs through me. I want to slide my hands under his t-shirt, peel it off slowly and explore, but thoughts of Celia sitting right next to us finally sinks into my brain. I start to pull back. Braden has forgotten about Celia entirely. He picks up his right hand, which has been lying idle this whole time, and attempts to pull me back in. For some reason, Celia pitches sideways and crashes into us. Finally, Braden gets a grip of his hormones.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Celia, who is pushing herself back to a sitting position.

I think I’m missing something. “Uh, guys? What was that?”

Celia lifts her hand, and shockingly, Braden’s comes up as well, held firmly in hers. Jealous, shocked confusion tries to bubble up. Angry words freeze on my lips. I know these two. Celia goes dopey at the mere mention of Alex. Braden dang near started undressing me in his excitement, totally not caring who was watching. There isn’t anything going on between them. I swallow any rash reactions.

“Um, care to explain that?” I ask as I slide of Braden’s lap.

“Sorry,” Celia says, “I meant to tell you right away, but you, uh, didn’t really give me a chance. It was the only way I could get Braden here. He can’t let go of my hand or he’ll go back. Kind of ruins the moment, I know, but at least he’s here.”

I look over at Braden and smile. “I can’t believe you’re here. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” In my excitement, I barely even considered how he got here. The fact the he was here overpowered everything else.

“Celia and I have been working hard to figure this out,” Braden says.

Celia grins. “Braden more than anyone. He’s the one that finally came up with it.”

“Completely by accident,” he grimaces. His emotions turn guilty, making me curious.

“What happened?” I ask.

A disapproving shake of Celia’s head is thrown in Braden’s direction. He rolls his eyes, and says, “Lance and I were giving a Capoeira demonstration …”

“You were showing off,” Celia corrects.

He shushes her and continues. “It may have gotten a little rough. Lance has some freakishly sharp toenails and he cut my finger when I swatted away one of his kicks. I got him on the cheek with a kick. That pretty much ended the fight. When he got up, I tried to check his cut, and I guess I touched him with my injured finger.”

“Their blood mixed, and suddenly they were both unconscious on the floor,” Celia finishes in an excited rush. “That’s how you combine power. Through blood. It’s so simple!”

My gaze goes to their interlocked hands. “You both had to cut yourself? You had to hurt yourselves to get Braden here?” I suddenly feel very selfish having asked them to do something that harmed them.

Braden cups my face in his free hand. “It was worth it, Libby. I missed you so badly.”

His longing melts me from the inside out. He wasn't the only one hurt, though. I look over at Celia. She smiles and nods her agreement. “It really didn’t take very much, just a small scratch on our palms. Don’t worry about it, Libby.”

My guilt doesn’t erode, but it does lessen some. “Thank you,” I say to both of them.

“Not only did this help us get Braden to the spirit world, it also answered another one of our questions, Libby. This is how the Guardians made the Dorotabos,” Celia says. “They shared their blood and amped their power up by six.”

“Wait,” I say, shaking my head, “but the Guardians I saw weren’t holding hands. They were all standing apart from each other.”

Celia and Braden both grimace. Braden is the first to speak. “Open wounds aren’t the only way to share blood.”

“What do you mean?” I ask slowly.

“You can also drink it,” Celia says.

My stomach flips. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Braden remembered you said the Guardians weren’t touching during the ritual. Unless there were two secret ways of sharing power, we figured there had to be another way blood could combine talents,” Celia says. She shivers. “We only used a few drops. The combining didn’t last very long. We’re guessing it depends on the amount of blood you drink as to how long the connection lasts. Once the blood is digested, the link dissolves. Those Guardians must have guzzled a lot of blood.”

“That’s disgusting,” I mutter. They both nod their agreement. “But at least we know how they did it, now. If we need to, we can use it against them. Have you figured out how they’re staying connected to the Dorotabos? Was I right about the Spiritualism?”

Braden nods. “Yes. We tried every talent, and only Spiritualism is capable of maintaining a solid link. Naturalism was close, but it took way too much effort.”

“So we’ll have to target the Spiritualists first. They should be easy enough to identify.”

All we’ll have to do is tap our own Spiritualism and look for the trails of spiritual energy drifting away from the Guardians. It’s one of the simplest talents to identify, so even our newest Ciphers and Spiritualists should be able to do it easily. Our plans are finally starting to take shape. The only thing left to figure out is how to give Braden back his talents so we can work together as Companions to bring down the Guardians and save the world from their creations.

Thinking about being Companions, and what my dad told me, I make myself let go of Braden’s hand. He looks over at me in panic.

“It’s not time to go already, is it?” Braden asks.

“No,” I say, “but look.”

I take his hand and hold it about six inches away from mine. The thin slivery filament drifting between our palms lights up his entire face. “He was right,” Braden says.

“Yes, he was.” My joy at seeing the filament doubles as I grab Braden’s hand and pull him up to standing. Celia follows out of need and curiosity. When I drag Braden up to the edge of the gateway, he looks at me questioningly. I grin at him and say, “You’ve gotten out of a very important step in our relationship for too long, Braden.”

“What are you talking about?” Braden asks warily.

I kiss him lightly. “It’s time for you to meet my dad.”

Chapter 33

Trust

It’s been over a week since I’ve seen Braden. Ever since the first day Celia brought him to the spirit world, it has been torture not being able to see him every day. But no matter how much I want to see him, I can’t ask him to keep cutting himself just so we can be together. It’s been just over three months since then. If he had to slice his hand open every day, there wouldn’t be anywhere left to cut after a while. We settled for once a week that first day. Braden’s weekly visits have been the only thing that’s kept me sane over the last few months. I twist the white cord braided into a bracelet around my wrist, which is oddly enough the only clothing or accessory I’ve ever seen consistently show up in the spirit world, as I wait for Braden impatiently.

Flexing my wrist carefully, I try to ward off the stiffness I know is going to set in when I get back to my body. When Thomas kicked at me today, aiming for my ribs, I made the mistake of trying to protect my bruised body and caught his foot right on my wrist. He actually broke it in two places, but I didn’t let on how much pain I was in. Lying about the severity of my injuries lets me heal myself at least a little once Milo and his enforcer leave. My Strength can withstand a lot, but it has its limits.

After baiting Milo with taunts that Howe is going to kill him—which I think are totally true—he laid off for a while. I supposed he was trying to find out whether or not I was right. Well, whatever answer he came up with only made him angrier. He still can’t hurt me himself, but Thomas has been let off his leash despite the pain it causes Milo. I’ve had to heal cracked ribs, deep muscle bruises, concussions, and now broken bones. Thank goodness this will all end tomorrow. One way or another.

I pace around the rim of the gateway as I wait for Celia and Braden. Alex said it would take a little while, but I’m still impatient. The team is busy setting up for tomorrow. It takes a lot of preparation to assassinate an evil president. I was moved to Washington, D.C., two days ago, but my army has been here for a week. It wasn’t any secret that I’d be taken to the capital to face Howe on my birthday, so Lance didn’t even have to track me. They are working to get everyone into position tonight and set with weapons and supplies. Thankfully, we have some very talented scouts and tacticians on our side that helped choose the best locations to start the attack. The only thing my army is still wondering about is how I’m going to use Braden to kill the Guardians.

Knowing that it might still be a little while before Celia can collect Braden from wherever he’s working and find a safe spot to come see me, I lie down in the mists and clear my mind of plans and death. I want to think about something happy. Happy means Braden, and the happiest memory of him lately was the first time Braden met my dad. Tapping my Concealment, I delve into my own memories and bring that day into vivid reality.

***

The mists sweep away from the gateway as soon as my energy touches it. A few seconds later, spirits start pouring out. Most are disappointed it’s only me again, but my dad sweeps me into his arms as soon as he sees me. He doesn’t even notice Braden at first. Not until I pull away from him and gesture for Braden to join me do his eyes narrow and focus in on him.

His arms fold across his chest severely, and he asks, “Is this him?”

“Dad, this is Braden. Please be nice.”

You would think his first question would be about why Braden was holding Celia’s hand, or how we got him here in the first place. They aren’t. His first question makes me groan. “Braden, what on earth do you think you’re doing dating a seventeen year old?”

Braden’s eyes sparkle as he returns my dad’s glare. I just want to melt into the mists, but Braden instinctively knows exactly what my Dad is really asking. “Mr. Sparks, your daughter and I aren’t sleeping together, but I do love her very much. More than I ever thought I would be able to love someone.”

My dad’s eyes flash over to me in question. I roll my eyes at him. “He’s telling the truth, Dad.” No matter how much I wish he wasn’t, I add to myself.

“Fine,” my dad says, “but I’m still not sure I approve of this. You’re six years older than she is.”

“Sir, I can tell you in complete honesty that I never planned on trying to date your daughter or any other sixteen year old before we met. Libby completely caught me off guard,” Braden says.

Finally, my dad smiles. “She does have a habit of doing that.”

“Once I met her …” Braden smiles at me guiltily, which my dad catches, making both of them frown. “After meeting Libby, there just wasn’t anything that was going to keep me away from her. I know some of that was the Companion link, but it wasn’t all of it.”

Braden drags Celia along with him as he steps over and puts his arm around my waist. Brave move in front of my dad. He pushes the limit even more by kissing me on the cheek. My dad watches the display without commenting.

“I’d read everything in Libby’s file,” Braden says. “I thought I was prepared to meet her, but I was wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for her fire and fearlessness. She jumped up on stage with only one shoe on and a broken ankle. She was determined to save Milo no matter what the cost was. Not only did I realize right away that there was no way she was the evil creature she’d been painted as, but I also realized that she was the most amazing person I had ever met before. Destroyer or not, she was going to do something incredible.”

My body grows warm in the face of Braden’s reasons for hounding me so relentlessly those first few months. He drove me crazy at first, but now I’m so incredibly thankful he didn’t give up.

“That was something I knew the moment I saw her as well,” my dad says. “Libby was special from the moment she was born.”

I barely even hear what my dad says. Caught up in Braden’s adoration, I look up at him coyly, and ask, “Those weren’t the only reasons you hung around were they?”

Braden grins and strokes my cheek gently. “Oh yeah, did I forget to say that I also thought you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever met?”

“Yes, I think you did.”

“How silly of me,” Braden says, dropping a kiss on my upturned lips.

“Ahem,” my dad says.

Surprisingly, Braden doesn’t blush like he usually does when he feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t with me. He just pulls back and faces my dad squarely. I stay wrapped in Braden’s arm and wait for my dad to say something. I’m not sure what to expect at this point.

“So, Braden, I understand that when the Guardians found out you were helping Libby you lost your job. I know you’re helping Libby with the resistance right now, but once she destroys them and their demon Ciphers,” he says, buoying my confidence with his optimism, “what do you plan on doing?”

In other words … are you going to get a job after all this is over and support my daughter like she deserves. Typical Dad. Who cares that I have plenty of money, he still expects the guy professing his love for his daughter to be well employed and respectable. Again, I roll my eyes at him. Braden takes a more mature approach.

“Actually, once Libby takes over the Guardians she’s going to need people to help coordinate and run the new world security force. No one expects her to do it alone. Many of the Ciphers are looking forward to getting their lives back after this, but some of us, me and Lance included, we plan on staying around to help. Lance wants to handle the intelligence side, and I plan on covering the security end. We’ll both help with training, though.” Braden glances down at me, and says, “As long as that sounds okay to Libby.”

“Sounds fabulous,” I say. So long as Braden handles my personal security. Nights especially.

My dad nods appreciatively. “Sounds like you have a good plan worked out, Braden. I’m sure you’ll be a great help to Libby.”

It sounds like a stamp of approval, but my dad motions for Braden to join him. He takes several steps away from me. Braden—-with Celia being pulled along—follows him. He and my dad are facing away from me, so I can guess at what they’re saying. Celia does her best to pretend she isn’t listening, but her facial expressions give away her excitement about whatever it is they’re talking about. My irritation at being left out grows every second I’m left standing there. When they finally come back, all three of them look quite pleased. Do they share with me? No, of course not.

***

I’ve spent plenty of time since then wondering what Braden and my dad talked about that day. I even tried asking Celia, who can’t keep a secret about romance to save her life, and Braden, who can’t resist anything I ask him, but neither one has given in. It’s been a constant tickle in the back of my mind. The kind that is so small you almost don’t notice it, but as soon as you think about it you can’t stop. That’s kind of where I’m at right now. Where is Braden?

As if in answer to my question, a sharp blast of mist stops gracefully in front of me. When it clears, I’m shocked to see only Braden standing there. “What? Where’s Celia?” I ask.

“She thought we might want to spend time together with just the two of us.”

“But I thought …” My nose crinkles as I remember the other way to combine power through blood. That is beyond gross. I don’t point that out, though. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together in more than eight months. I’m not going to let Braden playing at being a vampire stop me from soaking up every minute of it. I close the last few feet between us and press myself against him. His arms fold around me instantly.

I can’t wait to be with him in the physical world. So much is lost coming here. There is no subtle hint of cologne, no scent of shampoo or soap, not even the lingering smell of sweat from one of his workouts. His form is all that comes with him into the spirit world. But, at least I have that much. My hands run down the contours of his back muscles, coming to a rest right above his hips. The temptation to let them slide down a little further is almost irresistible. Braden kisses my forehead softly in return.

“Everyone is getting in place for tomorrow. Lance has …”

“Can we not talk about tomorrow?” I ask. “Alex already gave me the rundown, and I really just don’t want to think about it for a while.”

He smiles and kisses me on the lips this time. “Of course. Can I at least wish you an early happy birthday?”

“That, you most definitely can do. It’s probably the only one I’ll get.”

Pulling me over to edge of the gateway, Braden sits and gestures for me to join him. I fold myself onto his lap and lay my head against his shoulder. Body heat is another one of the things that doesn’t translate to the spirit world, but I still warm to his touch regardless. Peace envelopes me, something only he has ever been able to give me. I sink against him even more and relish the feeling. It can only last so long with what we’re about to face.

“Libby,” Braden says quietly, “do you still want to know what your father and I talked about the first day I met him?”

I turn and look up at him. “Yes, of course.”

“He asked me what I intended to do with you … with our relationship. He wanted to know where it was going and how serious I was about you.” Nervous energy ripples across my skin from him.

“What did you tell him?” I ask slowly.

Rather than answering me, Braden gently takes me off his lap and sets me down across from him. Facing me, now, Braden says, “Do you know what the worse part of the spirit world is?”

It takes me a minute to process what he said. Weren’t we talking about something else?

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.

“The worst part of the spirit world is that you can’t bring anything with when you come here.”

“Okay …”

“I have your birthday present in my pocket back in the physical world,” Braden says. “I really wish I could have brought it here with me, because I think you’ll like it.”

“Does this have anything to do with …?”

He smiles. “With what I talked to your dad about?”

I nod.

“It has everything to do with it,” he says, waiting for his clues to sink in.

I’ve had a long day, and my brain isn’t functioning as quickly as it should. The gift is small enough to fit in his pocket. He thinks I’ll like it. It has something to do with my dad asking Braden about our relationship. Clarity starts to seep into my mind. My breathing slows, and I can feel the anxiety and fear I’ve been carrying around literally slither off my body. While I was thinking, my eyes had dropped down. They come back up to stare at Braden in rapt amazement. I can’t even speak.

Braden takes my hands in his and captures every inch of me in his gaze. “What I told your father that day was that I loved you more than my own life. Nothing could ever keep me from staying by your side. I told your dad that I had every intention of marrying you as soon as we crush the Guardians.”

It’s what I guessed, but I still gasp as he utters the actual words. A tingling hum builds in my chest, threatening to explode and send me bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. Braden’s eyes are bursting with the same desire, his lips fighting not to break into a grin.

“Your dad told me I had to wait until you turned eighteen,” he says, glancing at the gateway, “but I hope he won’t mind that I’m a day early. I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t let you walk up to Howe tomorrow not knowing that I would be behind you, waiting to carrying you off to eternity right after.”

Tears are pouring down my cheeks by now. I can barely form words, but I manage to get out a few. “Braden, I never doubted you would be there for me. Never.”

“Well, as soon as possible, I want everyone else in the world to know, too,” Braden says. He shifts, kneeling in front of me. There’s no ring to present to me, so he brings both of my hands to his lips. His kiss is light and delicious, so much so that I don’t even notice he’s slipped my bracelet off my wrist until he starts wrapping it around my ring finger. His eyes never leave mine. “Libby, will you marry me?”

I’m crying and laughing at the same time, but I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him with everything bursting to get out of me. When I finally pull back, I laugh at his startled expression. “Yes! Braden, of course I’ll marry you. I love you so much!”

He can’t possibly have doubted what my answer would be, but a huge wave of relief roles off of him. Now it’s him pulling me into a kiss. Our bodies mesh together. My fingers lock behind Braden’s neck and beg him to never let go. Rolling quickly, Braden is suddenly hovering above me. His lips brush against mine so very lightly. They move along my jaw to my neck. I turn my head, giving him better access, and shiver as he delves down the curves of my body to my shoulder. He pushes back the loose fabric of my shirt as he goes.

I tighten my hold on him. His body presses against me. Bringing his lips back to mine, Braden kisses me once, twice, and then simply caresses my cheek. His infallible love seeps into my skin and fills me. I don’t even try to contain my own colossal love for him. It spills out of me and covers Braden. Brimming with our devotion, neither of us can move or speak. We hold each other in the beauty of the moment. Worry and concern has no leverage on us. Only the pristine possibilities are allowed to filter through. Marrying Braden, finding a house of our own that is not borrowed or used as a base of operations, children we might one day have, each possibility shines around us. Perfection. It’s the only word I can think of to describe this precious moment.

Slowly, Braden rolls to his side and pulls me against his chest. “I love you so much,” he says quietly.

“I love you, too.”

Comfortable silence fills the empty space around us. “Are you scared for tomorrow?” he asks eventually.

“Yes,” I admit, “but not because I’m worried about the outcome. I’m afraid of how many people might die to get there.”

“You’re not scared of how things might go?”

“Are you?” I ask.

“I have every faith in you, Libby, you know that, but to be honest, it scares me that we never figured out how to give my talents back,” Braden says honestly.

I settle against Braden’s chest nervously. “Yeah, about that …”

“What?”

“How much do you really trust me, Braden?”

Braden looks at me with his face scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean? You know I trust you completely.”

“Do you trust me with your life?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says without hesitation.

I want to tell him everything. It’s not that I trust him any less than he trusts me, but I know better than anyone that there are ways to get secrets out of people aside from simply asking. Braden doesn’t even have the protection of a Guardian promise to fall back on anymore. If anyone found out, it would mean Braden’s death, my failure, and freedom for the Dorotabos to destroy the world on the Guardian’s whim.

Braden draws me tightly against his chest and strokes my hair softly. “Libby, what is it?”

“I need to ask you to do something for me tomorrow,” I say.

“Then ask.”

Cupping his face in my hands, I say, “It’s dangerous, Braden.”

“But you need me to do it,” he says firmly. “Whatever the risks, I know you would never put me in harm’s way unless you had no other choice.”

He’s right. There is no other choice. Either he does what I’m about to ask him, or the whole world falls to pieces under Guardian rule and Dorotabos attack. I’ve tried to for months to figure some way out of involving Braden, but there is just no other option.

“If I’m not fast enough, or good enough, you could die, Braden.” My voice is a whisper barely heard.

“I trust you,” Braden says again. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

I take a deep breath and swallow my mounting fear. This is going to work. It’s the only way it can. “Tomorrow, you have to give yourself up to President Howe.”

Chapter 34

Alive

I know a lot about pain. It is an old friend of mine. But as I lie writhing on the bed in my cell, it feels like I am discovering it for the first time. Pure liquid agony flares through my body. My lungs feel like they are about to burst, because I hurt too much to even breathe. Tears sizzle down my cheeks as I pray for the pain to end. I want Braden. More than anything else I could wish for right now, I want his arms around me, his voice whispering in my ear that the pain will end and everything will be all right. One final burst of torture rips through me like a blade, and then suddenly I can feel him for the first time in more than a year.

New tears ripple down my cheeks as I force my body and mind to be still. I can feel him. I can feel Braden pulsing in the deepest part of my soul. It’s faint and tenuous, but I revel in the sensation. The hint of pain still lingering in my body goes unnoticed. All I can feel is the subtle thrum of Braden’s life force mixing with mine. It seems to make promises to me that I will see him again, that I will live long enough to at least touch him one more time.

My body sinks into the bed in relief. My eyes close, not to sleep, but to pretend I am drugged out of my mind like I’m supposed to be. I knew to expect the pain, but it still caught me off guard and nearly incapacitated me. If I hadn’t been lying down in preparation, the fall to the concrete floor would have given me a few new bruises. They would have matched all the others. I wasn’t nearly as concerned about avoiding bruises as I was about Milo possibly showing up early. I was terrified he would come to my cell before it was time.

Thankfully, he didn’t. Milo still believes he’ll live through today. I think he knows President Howe plans to kill him as soon as I’m out of the way, but he’s arrogant enough to believe he can beat him. And millions of Guardians. And thousands of Dorotabos. Yeah. He’s totally delusional.

Although, I’m not sure what it says about me that I think I can do the same thing. I’m not alone, though. My army of Ciphers and renegades are strategically positioned around the Great Lawn of the White House, ready to identify the Spiritualists tied to the Dorotabos, take out Guardians, and generally cause a lot of chaos and destruction. Not to mention, I have one more secret nobody else knows about. Well, nobody who’s still alive.

My body finally calms completely. I lend all my focus to pretending I’m unconscious, and to feeling my link with Braden. It trembles slightly. Not cringing is very, very hard. I can’t move, though. It’s getting close to time for Milo to come get me. If he sees me stirring, he’ll know I’ve been playing him for a fool. The link shudders again, but I stay completely still. I had hoped I would be able to feel more than just whether or not he was alive, but I hadn’t been sure. At least one thing has gone my way so far. That is so unusual, I decide to take it as a good sign. The brief moment of satisfaction falters as I remind myself of why the link is behaving the way it is.

Braden is about to be captured.

I can’t help flinching at that thought. I asked him to do this. Well, I asked him to give himself up to Howe. Braden isn’t usually a very prideful or glory-hungry kind of person, but he refused to give himself up. He insisted, very pointedly, that if he was going to have to be taken by the Guardians, he wasn’t going to go without a fight. I tried to tell him what a stupid idea that was, how he might get himself hurt or killed, but he laughed at me. Apparently, with all the training he’s done with the Ciphers since I was taken, he thinks he’s just as capable as any person with talents.

The last night we were together was the only time I got to see him use his Capoeira skills, but he was amazing. I’ve heard stories since then about what he can still do. He took down Dean in two different Capoeira matches over the summer, and has even managed to beat Lance once. I didn’t tell Braden, because I didn’t want to put a dent in his ego, but after we confirmed we were still Companions, even though his talents were gone, I felt sure at least some of his abilities still relied on my talents. Without any talents of his own, there are only his own natural abilities to enhance. He was strong and fast before his Inquest, so adding even a tiny bit of my own monstrous talents to his natural skills makes him very dangerous.

Still, I wasn’t totally convinced. Which is why I gave him a specific time to launch Operation Get Captured. I wanted to be able to feel what was going on. I keep my body immobile, but I shudder inwardly every time I feel a spark of pain through the link. It seems to last forever. Realizing I was holding my breath during the entire episode, I let the air out of my lungs slowly when the link quiets back down to a subtle feeling of satisfaction. I almost shake my head at him. He’s pleased with himself for getting captured.

It seems like an odd sentiment, but I get a little giddy thinking about it myself. I’ll see him soon. Very soon. It won’t be pretty, though. My mind starts running a marathon as I think about seeing Braden. I need to be ready, concentrated. I have to be fast, or Braden won’t live through us being brought back together. I’ve practiced so many times, but I know that’s not a guarantee. I tremble so slightly it wouldn’t be seen by anyone. Inside, I am shaking hard enough to knock my brain loose.

The sound of my cell door being unlocked an hour later nearly makes me jump. I fight my fear for control and win out, but only barely. A hand closes over my arm and pulls at me softly so I’m lying on my back. Milo eases my head up from the pillow and presses the glass of antidote to my lips. This is always the moment where I can almost believe he didn’t betray me, murder a Guardian right in front of my eyes, and let someone beat me to hell nearly every day for the last eight and a half months. His gentleness only lasts until I let my eyes flutter open after the appropriate amount of time. Then he forces me up to sitting and backs away.

It makes me sigh to watch him step back. He’s not my friend anymore, but I could have killed him any time I wanted to. I chose not to. Why? I’m not sure. He deserves it for everything he’s done. But not only do I have a problem killing people just because I can, I also still have hope that Milo will see what an idiot he’s turned into and help me save the world.

The hesitation and fear in his expression doubles that hope.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“It’s almost time, Libby,” he says quietly.

I stare at him. “What time is it exactly?”

“Twelve-fifteen. You’ve got an hour.”

Perfect.

“I’ll take you out to Howe on the Great Lawn in about fifteen minutes. He’ll give you one more chance to do what he asks, and if you don’t, he’ll kill you at one-fifteen.”

One-fifteen, the hour and minute printed on my birth certificate as my exact time of birth. Howe will wait for my diktats to flare, the signal that my talents have been fully unlocked and I have truly become Cassia the Destroyer. Everyone in the world will be waiting for that one moment. Some with hope. Some with fear. I will be waiting with a completely different emotion.

“Have you reconsidered Howe’s offer?” Milo asks.

Yesterday, he was screaming at me in an effort to try and wring a few last drops of information about my plans out of me. Now his tone is more that of a worried friend. I don’t fall for it. My lips stay closed in perfect neutrality. Milo’s jaw tightens.

“You have a chance to stop this from happening,” he says.

This being Howe murdering me on national television. I don’t respond.

“Please, Libby. Just think about giving him what he wants. He’ll honor his word if you make a deal with him.”

I can’t stay quiet any longer. “Milo, I know you want to believe that because of the deal you’ve made with him, but Howe has no intention of letting me live no matter what I say. Even if I gave in and everyone in the world heard me say I wouldn’t try to destroy the Guardians, he wouldn’t let me go home. He’d send me back to my cell, order some Guardian to drug me and slit my throat, and then tell everyone I killed myself out of guilt. He knows I won’t ever give up.”

“He knows more than that,” Milo says, his voice dark and angry.

Dark and angry aren’t that unusual coming from Milo, but the fact that it doesn’t seem to be directed at me makes me ask, “What do you mean?”

“He knows you won’t let innocent people suffer to save yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

It takes him a moment to speak. “Braden was captured over an hour ago trying to sneak into the compound.”

My face registers false shock. I do my best to pretend panic. Milo buys it.

“He’s going to use Braden to try and change your mind, Libby.”

“How?” I ask, though I was planning for exactly this situation. I figured Howe would see catching Braden as a chance to force me into doing what he wants. Give in and promise to be good, and I won’t kill your boyfriend. He’ll parade him out in front of the cameras with me, getting me close to Braden just as I had hoped for. Just what I thought he would do. Predictable.

I’m expecting Milo to spell all that out for me with a plea to do as Howe says, but what he says instead is something I never expected.

“He has the Albuquerque Ciphers. They aren’t dead.”

“What?”

“They’re still alive.”

I shake my head at him in disbelief. “No. No, you and Dean checked. You saw Lucas in one of the body bags. They were all dead.”

“We couldn’t get into the cell where the bodies were kept, remember? We didn’t have enough time.” Milo sighs a shakes his head sadly. “We could only check the bodies up next to the bars. And they only had the renegade Ciphers we already knew were dead, no one else. They must have put them there purposely to convince us.”

“Have you actually seen them?”

He nods slowly. The weight of everything he has done, everything he once fought for seems to settle on his shoulders. “This morning. Casey’s friend Caroline was there. So was Sam Vera.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why go through the trouble of pretending they were all dead just to admit they’re still alive, now? Does Howe think that will make people think better of him? Because it won’t.”

“He didn’t do it for his approval rating. He did it purely for you, for today. To pressure you into admitting defeat. Or that was his basic plan until Braden showed up. Now he’s twisted it even further.”

“How?” I demand.

Suddenly, Milo looks very tired. He was so sure of what he was doing the night he stormed into the ballroom with a whole squad of machine gun toting Guardians. I know I’ve rattled some of that away, but I can see how much working with the Guardians has stolen from him, weighed him down until it’s about to crush him. I don’t want to, but I feel sorry for him as I wait for an answer.

“He’s going to give you a choice between the Ciphers’ lives and Braden’s,” Milo finally says. “Admit he’s won, and you can save one of them. Keep fighting, and they’ll all die.”

“He’s been planning this since the rescue.” My disbelief is palpable. That was a year ago. He knew I would break the truce and give him a reason to come after me. He knew my team would keep fighting, and he must be at least a little worried that I’ll win. So he planned ahead. He knew I would give up my own life to save my friends. Who’s the predictable one now? I fell right into his trap.

Chapter 35

The Cost

I can hear Howe’s perfectly composed voice carry through the air as Milo walks me through the halls leading to the Great Lawn. I wonder briefly how long he’s been up at the podium spouting what’s sure to be total nonsense. He no doubt knows nothing he says today will change anyone’s mind. The people who have cast their lots in with mine did it with a diehard belief that they were making the right choice. Most of them came from families of Ciphers, people who’ve been ravaged by Guardian rule, even people who simply have a moral conscience. They are mine just as much as the Ciphers are.

For the other half of the world, they will hate and despise me until their dying breaths. There’s nothing much I can do about them. At least not right now. Maybe if I can survive this day that will change. I can’t think about that right now. I focus on Howe’s voice as Milo tugs me onto the grass. My feet fall in cadence with Howe’s expertly intoned words.

“This isn’t a moment for doubt. For two years, this young woman has done everything she can to unravel our society. She has murdered those who did not give in to her. She has turned people away from what they know is right by promising them power and glory. She has corrupted the truth and fed it one spoonful at a time to the young people of the world naïve enough to listen to her. Given the chance, she will tear down everything we have worked to accomplish over the last two centuries.”

Howe pauses for dramatic effect. The crowd rages with alternating cheers and threats. My people are out there somewhere. Some of them, anyway. Howe seems to soak it all in without letting it really touch him. Coldhearted prick. I almost pull away from Milo in my desire to slap him before remembering I’m supposed to be drugged enough to keep me from having any substantial access to my talents.

“Under Guardian rule,” Howe continues, “there have been no wars in centuries.”

Except the clandestine ones the public doesn’t hear about.

“There have been dramatic drops in crime in even the largest, most violent cities.”

As long as you don’t count the kidnapping and murdering done by the Guardians themselves.

“Guardians are revered and respected like no other government has been in history.”

Now that’s just stupid. People lock their doors at night because they fear Guardians, not petty criminals. A respectable government wouldn’t be holding innocent people hostage and threatening a teenage girl’s life. Howe turns and glares at me furiously as if he has heard every one of my silent comments. For a moment, I almost think he did hear me, until I see the hint of fear pulsing behind his anger. One flick of his wrist and Milo starts dragging me toward him. I don’t have to pretend to be scared.

Howe grabs my left arm and holds it up for the photographers and cameramen to see. “This is the Destroyer! She will take away everything! She has already taken many of your children. She won’t stop there. She won’t stop until every single one of you is kneeling at her feet!”

Well, that’s kind of true.

Lowering his voice to something akin to a soothing tone, Howe stares at the cameras and the gathered horde of people. “I am not the monster this girl has painted me as. All I want is to continue living in peace, protecting this world from people like her.” He sighs dramatically, as if he won this position by crocheting baby blankets for orphans, not by lying and murdering his way into it. “To show that I do not want to see any more blood spilled today than is necessary, I will offer Libitina Sparks one final chance to change her course. One chance to prove her life does not need to be taken today.”

Finally, he drops my arm. The podium he has been standing at is on a stage about ten feet long and eight feet wide. The podium was placed to one side so the rest of the stage would remain clear, giving the cameras and spectators a full view of what is going to happen. Howe walks away from the podium to the center of the open stage. Milo pushes me along behind him.

The cameras can only see Milo. One lone Guardian standing at my side. I’m sure it’s meant to show the world’s population that Howe isn’t scared of me. Maybe they fall for it, but I can see the hundreds, no thousands, of Guardians standing around me just outside the camera’s scope.

Howe faces me squarely and asks. “Libitina Sparks, before your true destiny as the Destroyer is unlocked, I will ask you one more time to turn aside and let the people of this world live without fear.”

I’m about to tell him to bite me when he holds up a finger to cut me off. My teeth grind together, sparking the faint flicker of a smile to grace his lips. I hate him so much.

“Before you make your decision, I must show you just what your choice will cost you.” Howe waves a hand and the Albuquerque Ciphers start pouring into view.

My body trembles at the sight of them even though I know what to expect. I search their faces, naming each one off in my head and recognizing the glazed look of drugs. No doubt they have been kept incapacitated like this for the past year. Tears build in my eyes at the thought of them losing an entire year of their lives because I thought they were dead and did nothing to rescue them. My grief and guilt only gain a tenuous purchase on my soul, though. Too much of me is simply ecstatic to see their faces again. I can’t believe they’re still alive. They shuffle to a stop in front of the stage.

“These are the Ciphers Libby accused me of killing,” Howe sneers, “yet here they are. Safe and alive. It will be up to Libby to decide whether or not they stay that way. But first …”

He gestures again and I whip my head to the left just as a bruised and rumpled Braden is shoved forward. Being face to face with him, the link between us explodes, weakening my body to the point that I fall to one knee. I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out in joy, but I let my tears flow freely. Triumph spreads across Howe’s features.

“Even if Libby were to pledge that she will give up her bloody bid for power, how could we ever believe her?” Howe asks. “Her words alone could never convince me of anything. So it must be an action. She wants to play God and decide the fate of this world, well I will give her a small taste of what that kind of power costs.”

Howe turns to me, and I have to force myself to look away from Braden and face his challenge. Milo is still gripping my arm. Fear seeps out of every pore of his body. He’s afraid of what I’ll choose. He was there when I realized Braden had been taken by the Guardians the first time. I nearly broke bones trying to get away from him so I could rescue Braden. There wasn’t another thought in my mind aside from saving the man I loved. He and Lance tied me to a chair in order to stop me from running off like a crazed maniac. He’s afraid I’ll choose Braden over eighty-one Ciphers. It hurts to know he thinks that.

I watch Howe as his eyes travel down to the watch on his wrist. He glances back up and meets my gaze. “Libitina Sparks, you have five minutes to decide. Continue your campaign and condemn your lover and the Ciphers, or choose for yourself which one you will save. Give me your promise to cease the devastation you have started by giving up either Braden or the Ciphers.”

My eyes pass from Braden to the Ciphers. “Why?” I ask through the tears I can no longer control. “What will that prove?”

“It will prove that you understand the cost of destruction. Instead of watching blood be spilled all over the world because of your desire to conquer, you can pay for all the lives you have already ruined by giving up something dear and precious to you. Absolution for the crimes you have already committed. Choose, Libby. Vengeance or repentance.”

At Howe’s last word, Guardians spill onto the grass. Three surrounding Braden, and a full fifty for the doped up Ciphers. No messing around with pride and talents this time. Like at the ballroom, they are all carrying fully automatic weapons. And they are trained on the heads of the captives. The Ciphers are too out of it to really notice, but Braden flinches at the sound of rounds being chambered.

“Stop!” I cry out in pure panic.

“Two minutes left, Libby. Make your choice,” Howe commands.

“You’ll kill them all regardless of what I choose.”

His bold face lie is plain in his vicious expression. “No, I won’t. You and whoever is left will be free to leave. You, under close supervision, of course.”

“I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” I argue to both Howe and everyone watching. “I’m just trying to fix things. This world is so screwed up because of what the Guardians have done. I just want to set things right!”

Howe’s hand casually moves to obscure the microphone clipped to his tie, and he says so only I can hear, “There is no right and wrong, Libby. There’s only power, and right now, I have it.” His hand moves again and he looks over at the cameras. “Thirty seconds to choose, Libby. Do it now, because after one-fifteen the choice will have been made for you, and every one of these people will die. Choose. Now.”

Eyes on his watch, Howe starts to signal the gunmen to claim their prize.

“Wait!” I scream. Tears pour down my face. I make my choice out of desperation. “I’ll do it! I’ll choose. Just let me do it myself. Let me be the one to do it. I won’t watch another person I love be killed by a Guardian.”

Now it’s Howe’s turn to pause. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to ask that. His shoulders bunch, his hands twitch, and I’m sure he’s about to give the order to kill them all.

Lurching forward, I seize his shirt. He notices right away that one of my hands has grabbed the microphone and is holding it out so it will catch my voice.

“Please, Howe,” I beg. “I can’t let all those Ciphers die. I’ll choose Braden to die, but I don’t want to live without him. I’ll let you kill me. I won’t put up a fight. If Braden dies, there won’t be anything left for me.”

Distaste oozes through his features at the thought of giving me this one small favor, but he knows victory is almost at hand and he can’t resist. His curt nod is seen all over the world.

My hands fall from his shirt and shy away from the blade he is drawing from his forearm sheath. Howe won’t disdain himself to step off the stage, so he motions for one of the Guardians standing by Braden to come to him. He hands him his blade and motions to me. It takes a whispered reminder about me being drugged to make the Guardian move toward me. My arms are yanked behind my back, shoving me forward with such zeal that I almost stumble off the stage. It’s only a momentary imbalance, though, because as soon as my feet are under me I have to force myself not to break free and fling my arms around Braden’s neck.

The fifteen feet I have to cross to get to Braden seems to take an eternity, but finally, I am jerked to a stop right in front of him. It takes a focused effort for the Guardian to force himself to let go of me. He looks positively nauseous at the thought of handing me the simple Guardian blade.

“Don’t try anything,” he snarls as he holds the weapon out to me, blade first.

My hand trembles as I reach for it. You’re never supposed to hand a knife to someone blade first because they could cut themselves. But this Guardian is too scared of me grabbing the handle and shoving it into his flesh to risk it. My fingers close around the blade, the edges biting into my fingers. The Guardian holds the blade’s handle a moment longer, clearly terrified of me, before dropping his hand away. He doesn’t, however, take a step back. He watches as I pull the blade out of my fist slowly, simultaneously digging deeper and wiping my blood from the cold steel. My fist stays closed to keep the blood from streaming out.

I feel the Guardians’ eyes on me. I feel the entire world’s eyes on me like I have for the past two years, but so much more focused than ever before. One of the Guardians twitches, his hand fingering his own blade. The reality of what I am about to do draws tears from my eyes. The whole world watches as I face the consequences of my decision.

Curling my fingers, I grip the blade tightly. My hand trembles as I move the blade toward Braden’s neck.

Braden trusts me with his life. Literally. But he flinches when the chilled steel touches his skin. My injured hand rests on his neck right next to the blade.

“I love you,” he says.

There is no doubt in his eyes, or in his heart. I can feel his soul-deep belief in me. I can’t even express how much I love him for that. My tears double, streaming uncontrolled down my face.

All I can say is, “I love you, too.”

And then I draw the blade across his flesh and watch the blood slither down his neck.

Chapter 36

One More Secret

Braden lays completely motionless as I am drug away from him, weak and trembling. Their rough handling is meant to show their power, but I can’t fight them. Drained, I can barely stand up on my own after what I just did. Tears roll down my cheeks unhindered. Exhaustion and hatred simmer in my veins. The blood still coating my hands sets my body to shaking.

I am hauled back up onto the stage to the waiting Howe. Sneering at my tortured body and spirit, Howe practically glows with imminent victory. I try to lift my gaze enough to face him, but I catch sight of Milo instead. It absolutely shocks me to see tears on his face. His eyes are riveted to the blood smeared all over my hands and body. He felt the agony I just went through. I know he doesn’t understand it, but it ransacked him all the same. In his eyes, I can finally see understanding of the pure wrongness of the choices he has made. Howe pays Milo no mind when he slumps to the ground. That is the last I see of him, because the Guardian holding me yanks me up to standing and holds me until I find my footing and my Strength.

Slowly, I look up at Howe and meet his revolting smile.

“The price for letting you end the life of your lover was to give up yours in return,” Howe says, still smiling. He glances down at his watch. Every TV station in the world has an identical countdown playing on their screens. Howe turns his wrist so I can see the second-hand ticking down the time I have left.

Ten. Nine.

“As soon as your diktats flare, I will claim your life …” He pauses to accept his blade from the Guardian. It has been wiped clean of Braden’s blood, just in time to spill mine.

Six. Five.

“… and claim the honor of having destroyed the prophesied, all powerful Destroyer.” His smile widens.

Two. One.

Time runs out …

…

…

… and nothing happens.

Howe blinks in surprise. He waits, I’m sure wondering if his clock somehow got ahead.

It didn’t.

I think I might have mentioned that I had one more secret left.

My mother had to have the best. In everything. That included doctors. She couldn’t see anyone in Albuquerque. None of them were good enough for her. No, she had to have some world renowned doctor from Italy. The day I was born was supposed to be a schedule caesarian section. My dear mother wasn’t about to go through a long labor for me. Dr. Vecchi was giving a lecture at Johns Hopkins University the week before and planned to fly in to Albuquerque in time for the delivery.

Luckily for me, he wanted to have time to eat lunch before bringing me in this world. So when my mom’s water broke hours before the surgery was scheduled to start, he happened to be right there. What he forgot to do was reset his watch when he arrived in New Mexico. According to my dad, Dr. Vecchi’s watch was two hours ahead and he wrote down one-fifteen p.m. instead of eleven-fifteen a.m. One of the nurses tried to correct him, but he spit out a string of Italian curses at her for arguing with him and nobody bothered to change it. My mom was too out of it to pay any attention to the argument.

Two hours ago when I was lying on the floor of my cell feeling like I was about to die, I was in fact embracing my true identity.

Now, it’s my turn to smile.

My lips turn up as I stare Howe down. I can see his eyes widen, sense his heart rate spike, feel the terror inside of him. My grin grows even wider. He actually flinches and takes a step back. “You’re too late,” I say simply.

I step closer to him and grab the front of his shirt so he can’t run. The other Guardians are all either too stunned or too confused to act. “Now it’s my turn to give you a choice. Get out of my way, or die.”

“No, you … I don’t,” Howe splutters. His eyes flash over to Braden. “But you killed him! Why, if you already had your power?”

My mind jumps back, to that moment when Braden’s blood started pouring over my fingers.

Please let this work, please let this work, is the only conscious thought in my head. Some deeper part of me goes to work, my open hand pressing against the flesh I just ripped open. Braden’s eyes bulge as he struggles for air that won’t come. Only a fraction of a second has passed since the blade first pierced his skin, but my power is already blasting through his body. Naturalism works in the background of my mind, sealing up the cut I just made before Braden either bleeds to death or suffocates. There are so many talents flaring among the Guardians right now that no one will ever notice my own added to the mix.

I’ve practiced healing cuts hundreds of times over the last couple months, but only on myself. Seeing Braden’s blood is pure torment. I can barely focus enough to finish as I feel its warmth slide over my skin, but I seal the wound just enough to save his life. If anyone looks too closely they’ll see that the cut is barely a quarter inch deep now, but they’re all too busy watching me. I just need their attention for a few more seconds.

I hesitate, ready to send one more blast of power through him. This is going to hurt. My entire being is thrumming with power and concentration for a whole different reason. Blood to blood contact. That was the key. It’s how you share power, and it’s how you give it back. Spiritualism runs rampant first, zipping down through the fragile link between us. It strengthens the Companion connection and makes sending my Perception in after it a much easier task.

All the times I scoured Braden for a way to give his talents back imprinted his makeup on my soul. There is no searching this time. Perception blasts its way into the empty pools begging to regain their missing power, but not to fill them. Instead it wraps around the talent centers and encloses them in a protective bubble with a direct route back to my own talents, ready for Concealment to go to work. Two or three seconds have passed now. I have time.

I try not to think at all as my Concealment grabs hold of my own talents and rips away the stolen portion. The pain I felt a few hours ago is nothing compared to this. My mouth stays clenched shut, but my soul screams in torment. It takes all my effort, more power than I have ever held before, to tear away a part of myself and hurl it back at Braden. My agony starts to ebb, but as the power hits Braden his whole body jerks under the force. Through the link, I can feel him crying out at the torture I am putting him through. My expression crumbles and tears waterfall down my cheeks. I can barely focus enough to finish, to cram every last bit of power into him that I can, before breaking the link and dropping to the ground along with him.

I had told Braden to play dead as soon as I was finished, but it turns out I didn’t need to. Neither of us could have stayed standing if our lives had depended on it. But in all reality, our lives depended on doing just what did, collapsing. Braden in mock death. Me in spirit crushing defeat. Howe swallowed every bit of it without a second thought.

I glance down at my left wrist. Satisfaction runs through me as Howe sees only one stolen diktat remaining on my wrist. No one but me noticed the band of slowly blackening diktats on Braden’s left wrist when they broke us apart. I’m not sure Braden noticed at the time, either, but as soon as he recovers enough to tap his talents he is going to find double the power he once had. It’s a small thank you for going along with me on this. I would have given him all of Drake’s stolen talents, but Braden never had Vision to begin with. Now, he’s going to have more power than he knows what to do with.

But we aren’t done yet. Not even close.

I look up from my wrist and meet Howe’s confused gaze. “I killed Braden? Are you sure?”

That’s Braden’s cue. His first movements are slow, stiff. Every eye in the world watches his blood covered body rise from assumed death to glorious rebirth. No Guardian intercepts him. All they can do is stare, knowing full well that they are most likely watching their hopes die.

I can barely breathe as Braden’s fingers move from his Guardian emblem to his forehead and heart without anyone trying to stop him.

He smiles as his finger rest above his heart, completing the Oath he wanted to give me so long ago. His power comes rushing across our Companion link and burrows into me. My body literally tingles with power, flecks of energy bursting around me like a glorious halo visible to everyone. Howe sags against my grip.

“Choose,” I demand of him.

I almost think he’s going to give in. Then he pulls himself back up and shakes his head firmly. “No. You’re still just one person,” he says quietly despite the absoluteness of his words. “You can’t win against us. We did what the prophecy said. You can’t win. You can’t beat us.”

I pull his face even with mine and say, “Watch me.”

***

I have just declared war, and everyone in the world heard me do it. Nobody waits around to second guess what is going on. They just act. The massive amounts of Guardians waiting out of view start pouring toward me. In the split second it takes me to analyze the situation, Howe makes his move. He jerks himself out of my grip and a shield of Concealment drops over him, taking him right from view. It’s the best shield I’ve ever seen. Better than Hammond could ever hope to create. Howe’s power and ability is stunning. But it’s nothing compared to mine.

Concealment works both ways. Tapping my own power, I see right through his shield and track his movements as he sprints away from me like the coward he is. I pick up on the unique power signatures of my friends and Ciphers as they take the field with me. I can’t feel any of them as strongly as I feel Braden, but I know they’re there. There are thousands of Guardians closing in on me, but I keep my focus pinned to Howe and take off after him.

It doesn’t take me very long to catch up to him. He turns just as I lunge for him, and I barely avoid the blade poised to dig into my chest by rolling to the side. As I fall, I grab his wrist and pull him down with me. He’s still trying to keep hold of his blade in hopes of using it on me. Midway through our fall, I tap my Strength, quadrupled by my own unlocked talent, Braden’s double dose, and the bonus of the Companion link and Guardian Oath working together, and snap his wrist in half.

He screams out in pain as his crushed bones slap against the ground. His own Strength is useless against mine. He pulls hard on his Speed to try and dart out from under me. The shadow of Vision tapping swirling around him does no good, because my Concealment hides my future from him. Knowing his talents are useless, his hand darts to his gun and whips it out in a blur of motion. Three shots ring through the air so fast the concussions of each shot smash together into one devastating boom. I don’t even get the chance to react before I am thrown to the ground. Through the blur of falling, I catch sight of Milo.

I can only watch as bullets careen toward his chest amid the noise of battle. He doesn’t move out of the way. I panic, but he simply meets Howe’s eyes and taps his Naturalism. The lead superheats at his command and dribbles to the ground before they close even half the distance. Howe’s black pupils engulf the blue of his eyes entirely as it finally sinks in that he is about to die.

One small turn of Milo’s head gives me access to his eyes, to his soul. I can see the regret, the self-loathing, the honest desire for penance that can never be achieved. He says nothing, and neither do I. Instead, he turns back to Howe and gathers his power.

Milo knows how to kill people mercifully. It would take little effort for him to send his Naturalism into Howe’s body and will it to stop beating. He could make Howe’s death painless and peaceful if he really wanted to. He could repay the evil this man has wrought on the world with mercy. The immensity of his power gathering around him is a clear indicator that this won’t be a merciful death. I could stop him. His hesitation gives me the option.

But I don’t accept.

Instead, I take over.

I stand up and step toward Howe. Milo moves aside in deference, but doesn’t release his power. Howe is too terrified to even move. Every combustible molecule in the air around me rushes to my hands. The air shimmers as the elements congeal between my outstretched fingers. With one simple push of power, the ball ignites and I hurl it at Howe. There is no screaming, no squirming, no flames to put out. There is only ash scattered on the ground.

One psychotic Guardian down, several million to go.

I look away, and find Milo. I can see the pleading in his eyes. He wants me to say something. The anger I just spent on Howe rebuilds and fuses my lips shut. I don’t know if he expects my thanks, or just an acknowledgement of his presence, but I can’t give him either right now. Turning away, my attention flicks behind me to where the main battle is raging.

The sounds coming from the Great Lawn stagger me. Screams, blasts of energy, agony, breaking, total mayhem races through the air. I take a second to open up my talents before moving forward. I can feel the energy swirling around me. Talents are rushing through the air and colliding with their targets like kamikaze insects. Every talent is represented, but there is no overpowering surge of Spiritualism like there would be if the Dorotabos had shown up.

Where are they? Howe wouldn’t have waited to bring them in. His faith in the prophecy and his own planning didn’t stretch that far. He should have called his twisted army in right away. I can’t see anything to do but head back into the fray and wait for them to arrive. I start to tap my Speed when Milo’s raw voice cries out in panic.

Chapter 37

Darkening Chaos

Zombies are always so slow in the movies. Brainless hunks of meat roaming around in search of something to nibble on. Dorotabos, on the other hand, are fast. Really, really fast. And completely single-minded. Their glazed eyes are focused on nothing but me as they barrel forward. In the second it takes for my mouth to pop open in shock, they close half the distance between us.

I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, but this isn’t one of them. I spin on my heel, grab Milo, and run for my life. I’m not exactly sure how much my power has increased since unlocking my full talents and combining them with Braden. Maybe it’s more than the six-fold power humming through the Dorotabos. Maybe it’s not. I’m not interested in finding out just yet.

A few strides into my adrenaline fueled run, Milo stumbles, completely incapable of keeping up with me. I shoot him an extremely irritated look as I yank him under my arm and pick up speed. If irony were a person, she’d be laughing her head off right now. She would be the only one, though. I risk a glance behind me to gauge how much time I have before the Dorotabos catch up to me. I’m pleasantly surprised when I see that I’ve actually gained some ground on them.

Until Milo manages to get a foot back on the ground and pitches us both sideways, that is. At the speed I was travelling, we slam into the ground and my breath lurches out of my body. I handle the impact better than Milo and pin him to the ground in single-minded fury. Adrenaline seems to be doing my thinking, because my blade is on its way to Milo’s throat before I can even process his newest betrayal. I probably would have killed him if not for the streak of lightning plowing into the ground five feet away from us. Right where we had been a few seconds earlier.

Throwing him an angry glare, regardless, I haul us both up off the ground and leap back into a sprint. The Dorotabos are less than one hundred feet away. I can hear the sounds of more lightning and fire balls blasting away chunks of earth. Almost as loud are the battle cries and screams of pain and death flying through the air. I just pray none of those voices belong to my friends as I dash into the thick of it.

The conglomeration of friends and enemies slow me enough that I can get rid of Milo. My rough shove away from me makes him stumble for a moment before he catches his balance. His frustration shows in his expression. He deserves a lot worse. I’m more focused on judging the tide of the battle as I shove my way through to the center than I am on him. I recognize a few faces of the dead, but more than anything I see Guardians lying in their own pooling blood. It by no means says I’m on my way to a sure victory, not with the Dorotabos nipping at my heels, but it’s an encouraging sight.

Milo pushes back to my side suddenly. His eyes aren’t on me, though. They’re searching the faces of the dead littering the ground. “Celia’s fine,” I say, “I can feel her using her power up ahead somewhere.” He grunts and picks up his speed. I don’t know that he wants to rush back to his little sister’s arms. She’s just as likely to punch him in the mouth as hug him. Oh well.

I bat away a lunging Guardian with a small effort as he tries to sink his knife into my thigh. The way his head rebounds off the ground with a squishing sound barely registers with me as I search out Braden. The link between us practically pulls me to him. I catch sight of him right as an unearthly howl rips through the air, stopping everyone, friend and enemy alike, dead in their tracks.

I expect panic from my side. Relief from the Guardians. It is almost unsettling to see the exact opposite happen. I don’t even understand it at first. The Guardians should be thrilled to see their main enforcers rallying behind them. Instead they cower, some even running from the field. It makes no sense until the first Dorotabos crashes into view and rips a Guardian in his way into two uneven pieces and tosses them to the side. I honestly would have thrown up right there if my body hadn’t been frozen in place right down to my toes.

They can’t control them, I realize. The Guardians poured a whole mess of raw, unwieldy power into their creations and simply let them loose. The heat seems to slither out of my body. I thought the link the Spiritualists had to maintain would keep them in check, direct them. I see just how wrong I was, but the reminder of these monsters’ handlers brings me back to life.

That’s when I realize why my side got so excited at the sound of the Dorotabos. I continue my sprint toward Braden as Spiritualism saturates the air around me. Milo feels it too and his eyes widen. “Spiritualism? Libby, stop them. It won’t work! Don’t let them do it!”

“What?”

More Dorotabos crash into the crowd of combatants and everyone on the outskirts of the battle start running in earnest, cutting off whatever Milo might have said in answer. I lose sight of him in the rush. My team is already on their way to the main body of combatants. Focused more on finding the Spiritualists than the battle, the panicked Guardians wantonly attack them as they run. Half a dozen fall in mere seconds. A stray thought I had been playing with over the last couple of weeks captures my mind and I reach for my own Spiritualism. I hold it only long enough to form it into thousands of different conduits before flinging it away from me.

It was just the beginning of an idea I’d had while lying in bed, trying to not move too much after one of my sessions with Milo. I had wanted to talk to Braden, hear his voice, and I wondered if I could talk to him through my Spiritualism. Something like using it to manipulate people. He was way too far away, but it seemed like a plausible idea. I test it now.

I can’t target only my people, it is too fast and chaotic to even try, so I just send my Spiritualism out and thrust it into every mind I can reach. I scream out a simple and direct command.

“Focus! Regroup on me!”

Everyone, even the Guardians, spin toward my position and closes in behind me. Thousands of people flock into the center of the Great Lawn. I hadn’t expected it to work so well. When I let go of my power, the Guardians look stunned, but most of them stay where they are, apparently recognizing joining the enemy as preferable to being torn in half. I cry out in panic when a hand wraps around my waist and jerks me backward. My talents and fists come up in defense, but Braden’s face mashing up against mine in a desperate kiss melts away the battle, the fear, everything but the feel of his body pressing up against me. It lasts only a second before he pulls back and his harried expression returns.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he spins me around to face the oncoming horde of Dorotabos.

After finally getting to kiss the man I love in the flesh for the first time in almost nine months? I am fabulous. I want more than anything in this moment to forget the entire screwed up world and drag him back to my bedroom. If wishes were horses, and all that. I force myself to focus, and say simply, “I’m fine. How’s your neck?”

Braden snorts at the stupidity of this conversation, saying, “Perfect. I fixed the rest of it. Not even a scar.”

I almost miss the importance of what he just said when I spot Milo hurrying toward me. I laugh at the purple splotch on his right cheek. Celia must have opted for hitting rather than hugging. But where is she? I expected to see her right behind him. Probably off somewhere healing wounds and applying bandages if I know her.

Lance, Hope, Dean, and the others crowd around me. I start to ask if they’ve seen Celia, but Lance breaks in, asking if the Spiritualists in our group are ready to try breaking the link to the Dorotabos. I start to answer when Braden catches sight of Milo. He moves so fast, I hear the crack of his fist on Milo’s jaw a full second after it connects. I freeze in shock as they go tumbling to the ground in a mess of whirling fists.

A very small part of my mind reminds me that I should stop Braden. He could accidentally kill Milo with his new power. Or he could kill him fully aware of what he is doing. I don’t move to stop him, though. I don’t know what thoughts are rolling through anyone else’s mind, but mine is jammed packed with the screaming, taunting, and the pain of months’ worth of brutal beatings. His stepping between me and Howe can’t scratch past tortures. I watch, numb to Milo’s pain, for a few seconds longer until thoughts of Celia resurface. I am suddenly glad she hasn’t arrived yet. She knows what Milo has done to me. She wouldn’t deny me my vengeance, but I can almost hear the plea to spare her brother’s life through the battle.

“Braden,” I whisper. There is noise everywhere. Battle sounds rage around us, but I don’t need to speak for him to hear me. His arm stops, cocked back and ready to be let loose. Blood drips down from his shaking knuckles. Slowly his hand lowers, and I start to sigh in relief until I see his fingers close around the grip of his Guardian blade. It flicks from its sheath right to Milo’s neck. I gasp and hold my breath.

“I promised him,” Braden says. “I told him it would be my blade that took his life.”

“I know.” My eyes slip from the knife to Milo’s face. What parts of his expression aren’t pounded into mottled bruises and blood sag in guilt. My next words aren’t to Braden, but to Milo. “You said Spiritualism won’t work. Why?”

It’s a test, and he clearly recognizes that. For his sake, I hope he chooses the right answer.

“It’s just like the link they used to trap the Ciphers. It can only be broken by death,” Milo responds. “And trying will most likely kill your people for the effort.”

Fear sinks deep into my chest. I can’t kill them all unless I break the link first, and I may kill myself trying. I have more power than anyone else on Earth will ever have, but there are thousands of Dorotabos about to converge on me.

“He’s lying,” Braden snarls. “He’s only trying to mislead you so his buddies can rip us all to pieces.”

I meet Braden’s eyes and say, “If he is, I’ll know in a minute.” I don’t add that if he is lying, I’ll stand aside and let Braden do whatever the hell he wants to Milo. By the looks on everyone’s faces, they all understand that is a given.

Closing my eyes, I remember what my dad said about my Vision, how I took all the Ciphers Vision so I could protect them. If there was ever a time I needed to protect them, it would be now. I tap my Vision and wait for it to respond. It doesn’t come right away, but I force myself to be patient. I have so much power backing this talent now that I know it will come and do exactly as I tell it for once. The Dorotabos are stomping through stragglers in their effort to reach me, but I turn my head just enough to catch Braden when I remember his earlier words and let them sink in. “What did you say about your neck? How did you fix it? You don’t have Naturalism.”

“No, but you do.”

“What?”

He just grins, still pinning Milo to the ground, and gestures in front of me. “Twenty yards and closing. What are you doing?”

Rather than answer, I stagger under the shock of my Vision suddenly lurching to life.

I see myself clap my hands together, sending a sonic blast powerful enough to stagger the Dorotabos out in front of me. It’s not enough to stop them, but it is enough to disorient them in order to make breaking their links to the Spiritualists much easier. My teams’ Spiritualism follows close on the heels of my blast. I hold my own power back, knowing I will need it in a few seconds. Even without joining my army, I can feel their power rushing past me and into our enemies. It halts for a brief second as they search out the link, then, rushes off behind them in pursuit of the Spiritualists.

I can barely hold my excitement in as I wait for the burst of energy that will signal that the link has been broken. The tidal wave of Spiritualism clashes with the Spiritualists … and rebounds back to the ones who cast it. I am spared, but the faces of my friends distort in horror as the massive amount of power rips through them, tearing out their spirits and leaving their bodies lifeless on the ground. My own body slumps to the ground, the vision dissipating at the same moment.

“It won’t work!” I say through trembling lips.

Panic ripples through the expressions of everyone around us. A Dorotabos coming in from the side leaps into the air, the very earth erupting around him as he lands. Chunks of rock and dirt slam into the right flank. Others are right on his heels with the main contingent about to steamroll right over me.

“Milo was right!” I say through gritted teeth, my focus on the horde.

“There’s no way to break it?” Braden asks, fear thick in his voice.

No, no, no. My thoughts race in panic. There’s always a way.

Before I can even begin to form an idea, Celia’s panicked voice calling out from the fray scatters everything. My eyes dart through the masses of people and Dorotabos until they land on her trying to drag a half conscious, bleeding Kayla through the battle. My first thought is to run for her. Before my body can react to the idea, Braden is holding me back.

“Don’t even think about it,” he commands.

“But …”

He’s sprinting away from me before I can say anything else. Milo screams and struggles in Lance’s grip, desperate to follow, but I have no thought to spare for him. I can’t even describe the deluge of fear and pride I feel at watching Braden race into the chaos of death around us. I want so badly to help him, to keep my eyes glued to his body until he is safely back at my side, but the Dorotabos frontrunners are piercing my group with fatality.

Forcing Braden out of my thoughts is torture, but if I have any hoping of winning I have to come up with something, right now. I think, and pray, and beg my brain to spit something out no matter how impossible it might seem.

My plea sparks a thought.

The Serqet, breaking a Guardian promise, reuniting Companions and giving back talents. Everyone said those were impossible, but I did it anyway. This can’t be any different. I have to break the link. I have to, or we’re all dead.

Logic always tries to take a leave of absence in situations like this, but somehow I manage to cinch mine to my mind and force it to work. I killed Saia’s Sihir with brute force, suffocating her with Spiritualism until she burst. That won’t work here. The backlash would kill us all. It would be suicide. I refocus, and find my answer as remembered words of a friend and betrayer filter back into my thoughts.

Thank you, Mr. Walters.

I let my eyes flick back to Braden, more frantic than ever to get him back. The last Guardian falls at his feet and he shoves Celia forward. Limping, she runs back to her screaming brother who is finally released to embrace her. Braden is close behind, lugging the injured Kayla along with him. His only focus is on reaching me. So focused, he doesn’t see the Dorotabos slicing through bystanders to get to him.

My eyes widen as I scream at him. His own head whips around, his steps tangling as he sees the monstrosity barreling toward him. Nothing Lance can do will stop me from reaching him … or so I think. Just as I am about to sprint to Braden’s rescue, Lance yanks my attention to the left flank.  Panic spirals from my army where a mass of Dorotabos have broken through. My eyes swing back to Braden in panic. The Dorotabos leaps at his back. Braden barely outdistances him. His Speed is flagging. He has already fought so much. Unless he abandons Kayla, he won’t escape a second attempt.

“Libby, they can’t hold the Dorotabos back! You have to stop them,” Lance’s panicked voice screams at me as he runs toward the crumbling left flank. Lance and dozens of others fight a losing battle as I stand frozen. Tears spring to my eyes as I know I have to send my talents along with Lance and not to Braden. My power gathers as I begin to turn away, hating myself for my decision, hating that I have to make such a choice.

A strangely quiet voice is suddenly right next to my ear. “Libby,” it whispers, “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Turning toward the sound, I’m shocked to find Milo. His remorseful expression stares back at me for a spilt second before turning away and tapping his Speed. I hear Celia cry out as we both realize what he is about to do. Gratitude for his attempt at redemption, doubt that it will work, and hope that he’ll make it in time, all fill my heart and mind as I turn away and blast my energy toward the Dorotabos infecting my ranks. Bolt after bolt, I call down pinpoints of atmospheric lightening to blast back the terrible creations. I can’t kill them yet, but I throw them far enough back that my followers have time to regroup.

A trickle of hope slips into my mind.

As soon as I turn around, it crumbles.

Braden is down on one knee, furiously sending bursts of power at the Dorotabos in front of him as he tries to get back to his feet. Milo is throwing his power at a second Dorotabos. His talents are still fresh, while Braden’s are faltering. I don’t know how he sees it, but the second Braden falls with no hope of getting out of the way of the charging Dorotabos, Milo redirects his power, fully aware of what choice he is making. The gale he was about to send at his own opponent sweeps to the side and saves Braden’s life, but not without cost.

I don’t know if anyone else sees the way Milo’s eyes close, or the look of finality and acceptance that graces his face, but I do. He knows the Dorotabos behind him is about to strike. He knew it when he spent his power on Braden’s behalf. Pure desire to never see the spear of Naturalism touch Milo slows time. But nothing can stop the inevitable. I can hear Celia crying out, but I am silent. The agony consuming me refuses to let any sound escape my lips. I watch as the Dorotabos’ stolen power slices through Milo’s body, silencing his heart, ending his life.

As his body crumbles, my knees give out. Tears feel like acid as they trail down my face. I want to collapse, grieve, scream, but hands pull me back up to standing. Braden’s arms and love wrap around me, quieting my soul.

“I’m so sorry, Libby,” he says. Celia is nearly inconsolable next to me, but neither of us can stop fighting yet. Braden’s arms tighten around me, but this time in fear. A second later, he pushes me away and turns us toward the oncoming slaughter. “Libby, they’re coming. What do we do?

What do we do? The main horde of Dorotabos is less than ten feet away. In some areas, they have already broken through. My army and the Guardian turncoats are flinging talent in defense, making little impact. Braden’s words buzz around in my foggy head, banging around in the emptiness before finally slapping my mind awake. I know what to do. Mr. Walters gave me the key. Now all I have to do is use it. I stow my pain in a corner of my mind that I will revisit all too soon, and focus. I don’t turn to look at Braden, but I say, right as the lead Dorotabos hurls a fireball at my face, “Touch me.”

Without question, his fingers slip around my waist, under the edge of my shirt to make sure he is touching bare skin. As soon as he does, I feel his power sweep through my body so strongly it nearly overwhelms me, multiplying and building just as I suspected it would after he revealed he could access my talents. I hear gasps go up around me as a corona of pure power envelopes both of us, looking as if we have been wrapped in pale blue flames. Our bodies radiate light and hope in the midst of darkening chaos.

I don’t worry about the fireball. I can already feel Celia countering it. Instead, I think of Mr. Walters’s words, understanding of what he was trying to tell me before his murder, calming me with their truth. Spiritualism wasn’t the key, Concealment was. It was what my dad used on me the night he died, what I used to steal and give back Braden’s talents, what could break unbreakable promises. The one power that could strip away the damage done to a soul and renew it. Braden had been twisted into a killer after he was captured, but I freed him by taking away everything he was and forcing him to start over.

The Dorotabos have been broken. Now they need to be remade.

The air parts in anticipation of the blade streaking toward my throat, but I don’t flinch or move away. I tap the bottomless well of Perception inside me, turning it into a physical gesture with my hands to focus my mind, and sweep my hands out and away from my body a bare second before the knife reaches my flesh. I knock the knife away and a visible wall of power springs up around my army. The Dorotabos crash into it, breaking through. Cries of surprise erupt from everyone around me, but the wall wasn’t a physical barrier. The second they touched it, they were stained with my power. It reaches deep into their soul and traps them in my web.

I don’t know how this feels or looks to anyone else, but for me, time seems to take a patient breath. Everyone but Braden freezes in this moment of destruction and rebirth. His hands slide up to rest on my shoulders and his lips brush across my cheek. He has no need to question or doubt. United through the Companion link, we are truly one. In soul. In power. In thought. His hands slip down my arms as we push the wall of Perception out.

As soon as our power moves, time exhales, releasing everyone but those I’ve already trapped. Dorotabos rush in as power rushes out. At every point of collision, they stop, stunned, lost. My excitement bursts, and our Perception races away from us in a mad rush. Every last Dorotabos is engulfed, but I keep going until I meet resistance. The Dorotabos were mindless captives. The Spiritualists are not. Some have Perception to combat me, some do not. Those without succumb the fastest. Those with Perception last only a paltry few seconds longer before their minds are swallowed up as well.

Now the real work begins.

“Don’t let go of me,” I whisper to Braden.

“Never,” he says as his finger touches the twisted bracelet on my ring finger.

I smile at the reminder and think briefly of my birthday present and what it represents. Without me having to ask, Braden takes hold of our Naturalism to support my body under the strain of what is about to happen. I stay with Perception for stability, but tap the one power that can end this battle. I thrust my Concealment into every single captured Dorotabos and Spiritualist. My power latches onto their talents, locked and unlocked, and holds.

I freed Braden from the twisted desire to kill me by taking away the talents that made it possible for him to be bound by the Oath. The Spiritualists can’t use their talents to control if they have no talents. The Dorotabos can’t be forced to use power their bodies have been stripped of. Maybe doing one or the other would be enough, but I’m not about to take that chance. I seize hold of my power, and their talents, and start yanking it back into me.

Out of instinct and experience, I brace myself against the pain, but it doesn’t come. My knowledge of both Naturalism and pain lends itself to Braden, and he holds it off. But only for me. Screams of delirious agony fill the air until nothing else can be heard. Everyone around me looks terrified. They have no idea what is going on. Their fear doesn’t affect me. Not once my power comes tumbling back into me, at least. I’m too fascinated watching the diktats blossom in a growing spiral on my flesh. They snake their way up my arm as stolen talents come rushing in. I have no idea how many of them there are, but the growing power suddenly becomes too much for me to contain. A shockwave of pure energy explodes out of me, flattening everything in its path.

Chapter 38

Life

Lance thinks the white picket fence is silly, but he’s helping Braden install it anyway. Hope hands me a glass of lemonade. The glass is already sweating just from the short walk from the kitchen to the front yard. It’s another record setting heat wave. Most of Albuquerque’s residents are grumbling about it, but I have missed the dry heat of the desert. It warms my heart and soul alike. A muttered curse from Lance after clipping his finger instead of a nail makes me smile. Hope laughs and shakes her head.

“He thinks just because he’s head of the World Intelligence Agency he can fix anything,” Hope snorts.

“He never has been very handy with tools,” I admit. “He tried to help my dad build a tree house once. Nailed his pants to the floor.”

Hope laughs hard enough that she almost drops her glass of lemonade. “I’m going to have to mention that later,” she says when she gets control of herself again.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” I don’t know why it hurts guys’ feelings so much not to be thought of as handy, but even Braden gets pouty when I fix something without asking him for help. Not that he lets me do much of anything lately. A little burr of irritation works its way into my awareness at that thought, sparking me to say, “I would have helped with the fence instead of hauling Lance over here, but …”

“But nothing,” Hope interrupts, “you are under strict orders to relax for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” I say quietly, my hands drifting down to my belly. The baby rolls slowly as if turning over to let her other side soak up the warmth of the sun, too. “I can’t believe she’ll be here in two weeks. It’s gone by so fast.”

“Well, what did you expect? The last two years have gone by in a blur. Restructuring an entire world government takes a lot of work. I took six months just to give back all the talents you stole to the Guardians and Ciphers willing to give you their Oath,” Hope says.

As my hands rest on my swollen belly, I glance at my left wrist and frown. “I couldn’t give them all back,” I say sadly. The first six inches of my arm is still covered in diktats.

“The ones who died, that wasn’t your fault. They just couldn’t handle it, and they would have killed us if you didn’t stop them.” Her hands tighten around her glass. I momentarily worry about it shattering under the pressure of her buried anger. It disappears a few seconds later. She has changed so much from the murderous girl I met three years ago. Flashes of her old self still pop up now and again, but they never last long. Not with Lance in her life.

“And the ones who wouldn’t give you their Oath,” Hope continues, “they knew death was the price of their refusal. They killed themselves.”

I don’t bother to respond. She’s right, I know that, but I was still the one who had to order the deaths of thousands of soldiers. I rarely have nightmares, anymore. With Braden sleeping next to me every night, bad thoughts simply can’t find me, but every once in a while when work—or more lately, the baby kicking me—separates us, the deaths I have had a hand in come back to haunt me. Braden and I don’t spend a lot of nights without each other.

I touch my wedding ring gently. It’s beautiful, a stunning full karat diamond with a masterfully crafted band made to match the Paradigm pendant around my neck, but my fingers slip past it to the simple white braid wrapped around my finger. Hope sees me toying with the strand and touches her own ring. The sight of it is enough to pull me out of my dark thoughts. My lips twist into a teasing smile.

“You guys set a date, yet, or what?”

Hope blushes, but says, “Hey, not all of us are as crazy as you and Braden. You two barely even waited for everyone to regain consciousness after that blast of power you hurled at everyone at the end of the battle before running off to get married.”

“I did not hurl a blast of power at anyone,” I argue. “It escaped. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Next time I’ll let you try to contain several thousand people’s talents at once.”

“No thank you. I’m done with all that.”

I chuckle, earning me a fierce glare from Hope. “What?” I say. “When I met you, you refused to leave my side until I let you kill a Guardian. I just never thought I’d see the day when you weren’t interested in fighting.”

“I’m still interested in fighting, just not for the same reasons.” Her eyes drift over to Lance, the heat and passion in her gaze making me feel like I am intruding on something private.

For a moment, I am jealous of her. One of the small pleasures I was able to capture after the battle—well, outside of the bedroom—was having Braden teach me Capoeira. I put time aside every day to work with him. It honed my body better than I ever imagined, centered my spirit when I was near breaking from the onslaught of demands and pressure, and gave me a few precious hours of mind-stealing physical connection with the man I loved. Those few hours a day with Braden gave me the strength to make it through the last two years. I still practice, even now, but only a milder form safe enough for the baby. Mostly a lot of meditation and focusing exercises.

I love Capoeria, and I’m very good at it, but watching Lance and Hope battle each other is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Their passion for the fight, their fierce love for each other, and their ability to connect with one another in such perfect balance is amazing. I was born to both destroy and rebuild this world, a Paradigm, the ideal for what the world was meant to be, but when I watch them I truly see the meaning of the word. Their dance could take lives if they wanted it to, or it could insight marvel and passion. In these two lovers, I have no trouble understanding the need for a perfect balance between destruction and life.

“So you never answered my question,” I say, my previous teasing softened by my thoughts. “Have you set a date for the wedding?”

“The end of September. We want everyone to be there, and it’s the only time that seems to work,” Hope says. “Celia and Alex will be back from Europe by then. Dean should be done training the new recruits in Nigeria as well. And we didn’t want it to be too close to your birthday.”

I never have liked my birthday much. Only three weeks away, I am not looking forward to the day. Before, it was always a countdown to my death, now it is something else, something confusing. For most of the world, my birthday is a world holiday. It’s the day I defeated the Guardians. I celebrate with the world, now, but never with my whole heart. I cannot make it through that day without memories of Milo sacrificing himself to save Braden’s life replaying in my mind. He caused so much pain, for me and everyone else, but I felt the purity of his repentance in that moment. I don’t know that it will ever be enough to erase what he did, but it makes me sad to know he is gone. Silently, I thank Hope and Lance for their choice in dates.

“Lance’s dad will even be able to come,” Hope says, interrupting my thoughts.

And there’s the real reason she and Lance haven’t gotten married yet. As one of the Guardians who opposed me, I was forced to make the same demand of Lance’s father that I did every other Guardian. He was always a stern man, but not a prideful one. He admitted his mistake and let me steal and return his talents, anointing him as one of my own instead of an enemy. It was odd, though, that he could admit being wrong about me and give me his Oath, but he couldn’t as easily forgive his son for turning against him. Lance joined me, because, in the end, he knew what I was doing was right. His father eventually made the same choice, but the hurt of a child turning his back on what you had raised him to believe was a hard thing to recover from. It’s taken him two years to do it.

“There were times Lance didn’t want to wait,” Hope says, “but I knew he’d regret it, so I kept putting off choosing a date. I think he thought I was hesitating because I wasn’t sure. That wasn’t even close. I just wanted him to have his family there. It still hurts that my grandpa won’t be there, but I didn’t have a choice about that. Lance did.”

“I’m sorry you had to wait, Hope, but at least you had reason to,” I say.

Sure, part of mine and Braden’s reasoning for skipping out on the frills and fluff of a big wedding were due to the fact that we had spent the previous eight months away from each other and had every intention of following up our “I do’s” making up for lost time—not to mention we were also in the middle of a hostile takeover—but another reason we both understood was that everyone we cared about having with us at our wedding was already there. Neither of us has any family left outside our friends. Just each other, and now, our soon-to-be new addition.

Following my line of thought, and disagreeing, Hope says, “You still have family, Libby.”

“Not family I want.”

“She’s your mom,” Hope argues.

“Sure, now she wants to be my mom. Now that I rule the entire freaking world, but not when I was hated and alone. She wasn’t there when I really needed her,” I say.

Hope’s hand squeezes mine gently. She isn’t the only one who thinks I should give my mom a second chance. My dad has begged me to reconnect. Braden, who knows more than anyone how much losing family can stifle a person, has asked me to at least think about it. To be honest, though, none of their arguments budge me as much as the one coming from someone who isn’t even born yet. My Naturalism told me the baby I’m carrying is a girl as soon as it was possible to tell. It is an amazing experience to be so connected to my daughter as she grows in side of me.

Even more incredible has been her own talents. It scares me a little to know that even now she can use them. I can’t yet tell how many she has exactly, but I know with surety that Perception will be among her gifts. Every time my emotions start to boil over or pull me down, I can feel her gentle touch on my heart and mind. When I am angry, she soothes me. When I start to think of all the pain I have had to endure, she lifts my heart to happier thoughts. And when I think about my mom and the heartache she has caused me, her power wraps around me like a gentle hug as she comforts my soul. I feel her now. She doesn’t want me to be sad. That simple, selfless desire does more to convince me I need to reconcile with my mother than anything else in this world. For her, I will try. It may take me longer than it took Lance’s dad, but I will try.

For a while, Hope and I simply sit together in the warm sun and watch our men try to build a fence. Their antics do a lot to lift both of our spirits with their self-inflicted injuries, lopsided panels, and friendly banter. I soak in the rays and the joy of being with my friends. Eventually, the guys give up on their effort. They make plans to tackle the project again the next day. Hope and I share a glance that promises one of us will eventually just call a professional, but I know we won’t really. Even if the fence never hangs quite right, this home is my dream. Imperfect, rebuilt after neglect, and filled with love. This is what I was fighting for, what I’m still fighting for.

I get locked up in Washington often enough with crystal chandeliers, expensive clothes, visiting dignitaries, grand buildings, and the like. It’s a necessity I have to trudge through. The world may not understand why I choose to spend my downtime in a modest sized home in a safe neighborhood in Albuquerque, New Mexico, but as we crowd around our kitchen table with burgers and watermelon and baked beans, I don’t care if anyone else understands. Everybody has a different dream, and this is mine.

I feel genuinely happy as I get up and walk our friends to the door after dinner. The promise of Lance’s and Hope’s wedding bringing the rest of our friends together makes me smile even wider. Hope reaches over my belly for a hug as Braden and Lance exchange ideas about fixing the fence. I smile at her and say, “Thanks for coming over, and let me know if you need any help with the wedding plans.”

“My mom’s so excited we finally set a date, she’s already got most of it planned.” Hope laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’ll be lucky if I get to pick out my own dress at this point.”

“Well, let me know if you need a break from the wedding planning then. We can go to lunch,” I offer.

“Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”

She looks like she’s about to say something else when Lance swoops in and wraps her up in his arms, kissing her cheek and holding her. “Ready?” he asks her.

Hope nods and Lance lets go of her briefly to give me a hug goodbye before tucking her back under his arm and moving toward the door. Hope slips out of his grip just before he pulls her away, her hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans and coming back out with a battered looking piece of paper. When she offers it to me I’m slow to take it.

“I almost forgot,” she says, holding the paper out. “I found this in some of my grandpa’s old stuff when I was going through the attic the other day. I thought you might want to have it.”

“What is it?” I ask as I take it from her.

She shrugs. “Just a poem.” She keeps her tone casual, but I can hear something behind her words, and sense the tremor of unease in her spirit. Before I can ask her any more, she and Lance are out the door and on their way to their car.

Braden pulls me away from the door and leads me over to the couch. I curl up next to him and let him evaporate every thought in my mind as his hands stroke my skin and his lips meet mine. Slowly, his fingertips leave my arms and rest lovingly on my belly. “Have you thought anymore about names?” he asks.

We have been batting around half a dozen different choices we both like, but sitting out under the sun today with Hope as we talked about tearing down and starting anew helped me make a decision. “I think we should go with Eva.”

“What did Eva mean again?” Braden asks.

“Life.”

Braden’s arms fold around me more tightly. “I think that will be perfect.”

I was named after a Roman goddess of death, and I grew up thinking pain and unhappiness was my fate. I want better for our daughter. She will grow up knowing the happiness and joy of life, and the power it holds.

“What did Hope give you?” Braden asks.

Lifting the forgotten paper from where it had fallen on the couch. I sit up and hold it out to him. “She said it was a poem she found in Mr. Walters’s stuff. She handed it over like it was nothing, but I could feel how nervous it made her.”

“Huh, well let’s see what it says.” Braden unfolds the paper and begins to read.

When evil has been broken

And harmony restored

The world will know balance again.

By the Destroyer’s hand,

With her Socius’s aid,

The world will find peace.

More important, though

Will be their final task,

For peace and balance will not last.

Destroyer and Socius will join,

And from their union, a new class will arise.

Life

For the longest time, neither of us speaks. We just stare at the mangled paper in disbelief. Braden finds his voice first and asks, “Uh, what did you say Eva meant again?”

The End

Keep reading for a sneak peek of DelSheree Gladden’s new series SomeOne Wicked This Way Comes

Wicked Hunger

Chapter 1

Stories

Having my back turned toward the empty parking lot as I lock up the dance studio is slightly unnerving. In the back of my mind, I know there’s nothing to fear, but I still turn the key quickly and spin around to face the approaching darkness.

I hold myself close to the door, waiting for the feeling to leave me. Several minutes pass before I realize it isn’t going away. I can either stand here all night, or start walking. It’s with a show of false bravery that I take a step forward. As I walk away from the dance studio, I know I’m being silly. My brother, Zander, is constantly telling me that fear is a weakness. I know how to defend myself.

Defending myself isn’t the problem. Controlling myself is.

The walk to my grandma’s house where Zander and I have been living for the past several years is a good five miles away. I was supposed to ask Grandma to pick me up when Zander said he couldn’t, but I thought some time alone sounded better. At least, at the time it sounded like a good idea. Now, I’m not so sure that a fifteen-year-old girl walking home alone at night is smart at all. The fading sun seems to retreat faster than normal. Within ten minutes, I am left skulking along the streets of Albuquerque in full night. My pace quickens.

I know the way home, but in the darkness I feel my courage fizzle. I am practically running past shops with my feet set in the direction of the relative safety of my neighborhood, taking any shortcut available to get me home faster. I’m not the only one out on the streets. Average looking people mill about on the sidewalks, but I keep my distance.

Eyes down, I run. I’m only two blocks away from the cramped little neighborhood where Grandma has lived for twenty years. I am almost there when I lurch to a stop in front of a dank alley filled with scuffling noises and pain.

An unsettled feeling rises in the center of my body. I try to take another step, get away, but I can’t. A muffled scream sends another shot of wretched pain shooting through the air. It’s too much to resist.

Dance bag abandoned, tennis shoes slapping against asphalt, my body powers down the alley independent of rational thought. Fragile bones snap and howls of pain erupt. Delicious satisfaction rushes in as agony fills the damp alley. Everything else is forgotten.

The sting of a knife pierces my thigh, the burst of pain only continuing the frenzy. Blood splatters, knuckles crack, flesh breaks. Nothing else exists in that moment.

“Hey!” someone yells out.

Suddenly, without warning, the space around me is empty. I stumble up to my feet in search of the three chollo gangsters who were just on top of me. All three are racing out of the alley, with only one looking back with a terrified expression before darting around the corner.

Stunned, confused, I stand up covered in blood and bruises. My eyes flit around for an explanation, landing on a caramel-haired teen with a cell phone in his hand. I think he tries to say something to me. I watch his lips move without comprehending. The only rational thought I have is that he’s holding my ballet bag. Then, I hear the word police slip past his lips. In a panic, I snatch my bag out of his hand and run.

***

Laney’s elbow knocks into my head as she tries to slide into the seat next to me. The contact sends my hair into my face, and applesauce sloshing off her tray to land in a cold splat on my bare thigh. I jump in surprise.

“Sorry!” Laney apologizes. She finally manages to drop her lunch tray on the table, and grabs a handful of napkins. She passes them to me with another apology. “Sorry, Van, did I get it all over you? These new heels have been tripping me up all day.”

“I told you they were too high,” I say as I take the napkins and start wiping off my leg. Laney grimaces and points to my hair as well. Shaking my head at her, I wipe applesauce out of my platinum locks.

“They aren’t too high! I just need a little practice,” Laney says with a pout.

“If you haven’t mastered walking by now …”

Laney opens her mouth to object, but is cut off by a new arrival. Two new arrivals, actually. Identically adorable, Sandra and Kari barely reach five foot, but their eclectic style—which consists mainly of as many mismatching colors and patterns as possible—makes them extremely noticeable. They sit down at the table in perfect unison. I think they practice that. Beyond weird, but they’re my friends, and I don’t have nearly enough of those to go tossing them out just because of a few idiosyncrasies. The banana yellow top with the flouncy green and pink ruffled skirt, fur lined boots, grey dancer’s shrug, and rhinestone studded belt are quickly giving me a headache. And that’s just Sandra’s outfit. Kari’s is even worse.

If they notice my chagrin at all, they don’t mention it. Kari says, “We think your stilettos are to die for …”

“You would,” I interject.

Sandra throws me a scowl and continues. “But Vanessa is right about your ability to walk across a flat surface without nearly killing yourself.”

Vanessa. Why do they insist on using my full name?

“I am perfectly capable …”

“No, you aren’t,” Kari interrupts, “so we think you should give us the shoes. We’ll make much better use of them.”

They both grin. I feel like Alice staring at a double nightmare of Cheshire cats. Any minute now the rest of them will disappear—taking their bizarre outfits with them, hopefully—and leave only their too-big smiles behind. Laney sticks her tongue out at them. It completes the down-the-rabbit-hole experience for me.

I’m determined to tune all three of them out as Sandra starts talking about feather boas and rubber galoshes. Maybe I should feel left out, but the hum of craziness that surrounds my group of friends in comforting. Until Laney jabs me with her elbow and starts waving wildly at someone behind the twins’ heads. All I can see is a hot pink streak against a background of short ebony hair. Friend of the twins?

“What is your problem today?” I snap at Laney when she elbows me again.

The pink-and-black-headed mystery sees Laney and changes course. Laney is too busy gesturing like a maniac to answer me, so I scoot away from her and start stabbing at my meatloaf, or whatever it’s supposed to be. I’m still trying to talk myself into taking a bite when a familiar feeling courses through me. My head pops up to stare it this nightmare of a girl.

I can feel the muscles in my body tightening to the point of near-rupture. Every cell is begging me to give in again. Tears burn behind my eyes at the effort it takes not to listen. I can almost feel it … almost feel her suntanned skin dimpling under the pressure of my grip before giving way and breaking in welcome of my hunger.

Terrified by the intensity of my reaction, I scour her for some explanation. I scan the heart shaped face and subtle makeup that make her pretty, but average, the clothes that are stylish without being too trendy, and even her mannerisms with no success. I shouldn’t want to harm her, but I do. I want it more than anything I have ever wanted in my life. The sound of something snapping draws her’s and Laney’s attention to me.

“Geez, use a fork much?” Laney asks me. The girl across from me stares with one eyebrow cocked curiously.

It takes me a minute to look down at my fork. I blink in surprise at the broken shards of plastic littering my meatloaf.

“You … all right?” Laney asks slowly.

My gaze snaps over to her. Shame for my thoughts and near-actions overpower my hunger enough for me to respond. “Yeah, sorry. This food, it’s so gross,” I mumble.

“So you thought killing it a second time would help that problem?” Laney laughs and bumps into me with her shoulder. She’s known me for long enough not to be surprised by my sudden and unexplained funks. She flicks away her worry and turns back to the pink and black haired girl. I reluctantly follow her gaze.

The hunger tries to explode again when I look at her, but I do better now that I’m expecting it. A little better, at least. It’s only a gnawing ache on the brink of breaking me rather than an all-consuming need. What really helps me keep myself in check is her wide-eyed expression. Laney may be able to brush off my weirdness, but this girl is staring at me like she’s afraid I might take my mangled fork to her eyes. She must be psychic. Or just smarter than the average bear.

Frightened by my reaction to this girl, I sit very still, and will her to do the same. I can’t mess up. I can’t give in. After Oscar … one more mistake would mean leaving, at the very least. Being locked up, dying, those would be the worst, but still very possible. I can’t do that to Zander. My brother has suffered so much already. Thinking of him focuses my energy. I’m the only one left who can protect him. Even knowing that, I struggle to rein in my hunger.

“This is my cousin, Ivy Guerra. I told you about her, remember? Her family just moved here from San Diego,” Laney says.

I just stare at Ivy for a few seconds. It’s not that I’m trying to be rude, but if I open my mouth right now the result may not be pretty. I flex and point my toes, slowly, focusing on the contracting and relaxing of my muscles. It’s a trick my grandma taught me. It helps sometimes.

“Nice to meet you, Ivy,” I finally manage to say. “I’m Van.”

“Short for Vanessa?” she asks.

I nod, not wanting to open my mouth again.

A tray drops onto the table next to me, splashing yet another blob of apple sauce onto my body. My arm, this time. “Would people please stop spilling food on me?” I snap at the newest arrival.

His answering grin weakens my anger as it always does. His presence distracts me from Ivy beautifully, as well. I do my best to remain annoyed, but I’m secretly grateful he showed up. The warmth behind his smile seeps under my skin.

“Sorry, Van. Who else spilled goop on you?” he asks. “Laney? I saw her fall into a row of lockers on her way to class this morning.”

Laney pointedly ignores him after that, and he turns his attention to trying to wipe the applesauce off my arm. His touch is a little too much like a caress. My body softens in response, savoring the contact. Ivy notices the exchange, her brow rising in question. I force myself to snatch the napkin out of his hand and finish cleaning myself up without looking at either of them. It earns me a frustrated sigh from Ketchup, but he knows this is how it has to be. Knowing doesn’t stop him from scooting his chair close enough that our knees touch. I resist the urge to lay my hand on his thigh, but I can’t make myself move away from him.

“Ivy, this is Ketchup. Ketchup, Ivy. She’s my cousin,” Laney says casually.

“Ketchup?” Ivy asks. Yeah, she definitely thinks we’re all crazy. “What kind of name is that?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Ketchup asks in mock outrage. “You’re named after a vine. Why can’t I be named after America’s favorite condiment?”

Ivy doesn’t seem to know how to respond. She takes a bite of her roll, watching him carefully. He keeps up his attempt at an intimidating glare. I know he’s a big dopey pushover, but Ivy doesn’t. I grab an apple slice off Ketchup’s tray and throw it at his chest. Laney backs me up by chucking a piece of bread at him. His façade cracks when he jumps and tries to deflect the food missiles. I just shake my head at him and try not to regret having pushed him away. As if he knows my unspoken desire, he moves his chair even closer to me when he sits back down. I swallow hard and turn my attention back to Ivy.

“His name’s not really Ketchup. It’s just a nickname,” I say in an attempt to appear halfway normal and ward off any awkward questions.

“How do you get a nickname like Ketchup?” she asks.

“By pulling his lunch out first day of kindergarten and having nothing but a plain piece of bread and a bunch of ketchup packets,” Laney says. “He sat there squirting ketchup all over his bread while the rest of us just stared at him. And then he actually ate it.” Laney shivers at the memory.

I like ketchup as much as the next person, but gross! Ketchup just laughs as he tears the corners off three ketchup packets and starts squirting them all over his meatloaf. Ivy and I both wrinkle our noses at him.

“What?” he laughs. “You’re supposed to eat ketchup on meatloaf!”

“Not that much,” I say.

“Whatever.” He drops the empty packets on my tray and takes a huge bite of his ketchup-drowned lunch.

“What’s your real name?” Ivy asks him when he finishes chewing the gloppy mess.

Ketchup stops, taps his finger against the side of his head, and says, “You know, I don’t think anyone remembers.”

“Really?” Ivy asks sarcastically.

He looks over at Laney and me for confirmation. We both shrug. Even the teachers know him as Ketchup. Ivy shakes her head.

“This has got to be the weirdest group of friends I’ve ever met. Two matching fashion catastrophes, my klutzy cousin, a guy named Ketchup, and a … and Van. You guys are messed up.”

Ketchup and Laney both laugh at Ivy’s apt descriptions of everyone, but I’m left wondering what she was going to say about me. And a what? She can’t possible know anything about me. Right? People knowing is dangerous. She just thinks I’m strange, that’s all. I tell myself that, but for some reason, I don’t believe my own words.

Something seems off about this girl, though I can’t put my finger on why. I’m going to have to keep an eye on her, which is probably a bad idea given the hunger I am still struggling to control. Just thinking about subjecting myself to her presence again makes giving in that much more irresistible. My fingers grip the edges of my chair, clenching to the point of deforming the bumpy plastic seat.

I frantically try to calm myself back down. Breathing, stretching, counting down from one million. Sensing my need, Ketchup’s hand slides onto my knee and squeezes. My hunger instantly drops a few notches as I focus on his touch. No one else notices the contact, but it helps immensely. I try to banish the rest of my hunger by drinking in the ambient noise of the cafeteria and letting it momentarily numb my brain.

“So, how did you all end up becoming friends?” Ivy asks, her voice ratcheting up the hunger inside me. “You guys seem like a pretty odd combination, so there must be a good story behind it.”

Oh no. My insides squirm and twist in panic. My hand snaps down over Ketchup’s, begging for strength. I try to find my voice somewhere amid the aching need to hurt Ivy so I can stop anyone at the table from answering and giving her any more hints that there’s something wrong with me, but Ketchup is faster.

“Not just one story, but six very interesting stories. One for each of us.”

“But there’s only five of you here,” Ivy argues.

“You haven’t met Wyatt and Holly yet,” Laney pipes in.

“That’s seven.”

“There’s six, not including Van.”

“Why doesn’t Van get a story?”

“Because she’s in all of ours,” Ketchup says. “She’s the one who brought us all together.”

“How did she do that?” Ivy asks.

I want to stop him from saying anything. My rigid muscles won’t let me. All I can manage is to look over at her and see the heat of something I don’t understand held tight in her features as she waits for her answer.

Ketchup grins, sending my stomach down to the basement. “She saved our lives.”

About the Author

DelSheree Gladden lives in New Mexico with her husband and two children. The Southwest is a big influence in her writing because of its culture, beauty, and mythology. Local folk lore is strongly rooted in her writing, particularly ideas of prophecy, destiny, and talents born from natural abilities. When she is not writing, DelSheree is usually teaching yoga, coaching gymnastics, reading, painting, sewing, or studying about teeth as a Dental Hygiene student. Her works include Escaping Fate, Twin Souls Saga, and The Destroyer Trilogy. Look for her new series, SomeOne Wicked This Way Comes, with the release of the first book in the series, Wicked Hunger, coming July 2013.

Connect with DelSheree online at:

http://www.delshereegladden.com

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DelShereeG

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDelShereeGladden

Book Blog:

http://theediblebookshelf.blogspot.com/

Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4305414.DelSheree_Gladden

Also by DelSheree Gladden

Escaping Fate

Twin Souls

Book One of the Twin Souls Saga

Shaxoa’s Gift

Book Two of the Twin Souls Saga

Qaletaqa

Book Three of the Twin Souls Saga

Inquest

Book One of the Destroyer Trilogy

Secret of Betrayal

Book Two of the Destroyer Trilogy

Wicked Hunger

Book One: SomeOne Wicked This Way Comes

Coming July 2013

Table of Contents

Other books by Author

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 Jeopardy

Chapter 2 Deadline

Chapter 3 Captured

Chapter 4 Human

Chapter 5 Invincible

Chapter 6 Time to Choose

Chapter 7 Angry Hope

Chapter 8 Haunted

Chapter 9 Fair Chance

Chapter 10 This One Thing

Chapter 11 Specter

Chapter 12 Evaluation

Chapter 13 Inhumanity

Chapter 14 No Second Chances

Chapter15 In My Pocket

Chapter 16 Slow Caress

Chapter 17 On the Brink

Chapter 18 Back to Lying

Chapter 19 Shatter

Chapter 20 An Empty Place

Chapter 21 Creative Uses

Chapter 22 Death House

Chapter 23 Wreckage

Chapter 24 Redemption

Chapter 25 From Truth

Chapter 26 Faith

Chapter 27 Morbid Curiosity

Chapter 28 The Right One

Chapter 29 Time Flies

Chapter 30 Gateway

Chapter 31 Strangest Thing

Chapter 32 Combining

Chapter 33 Trust

Chapter 34 Alive

Chapter 35 The Cost

Chapter 36 One More Secret

Chapter 37 Darkening Chaos

Chapter 38 Life

Excerpt from Wicked Hunger

About the Author