The Reverians Series Boxed Set
Author: Sarah Noffke
Date: 2016-07-25 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult; Science Fiction; Fantasy
Description: This boxed set includes Defects, Rebels and Warriors. This 240,000-word collection is nearly 700 pages of treachery, paranormal, conspiracy and deadly thrills."The easiest way to control people is to make them think they're defective--but that only works until they realize they're not."Book 1: In the happy, clean community of Austin Valley, everything appears to be perfect. Seventeen-year-old Em Fuller, however, fears something is askew. Em is one of the new generation of Dream Travelers. For some reason, the gods have not seen fit to gift all of them with their expected special abilities.Em i
Publisher: One-Twenty-Six Press

Praise for Previous Works:

“There are so many layers, so many twists and turns, betrayals and reveals. Loves and losses. And they are orchestrated beautifully, coming when you least expected and yet in just the right place. Leaving you a little breathless and a lot anxious. There were quite a few moments throughout where I found myself thinking that was not what I was expecting at all. And loving that.”

-Mike, Amazon

“The writing in this story was some of the best I've read in a long time because the story was so well-crafted, all the little pieces fitting together perfectly.”

-The Tale Temptress

“There are no words. Like literally. NO WORDS.
This book killed me and then revived me and then killed me some more. But in the end I was born anew, better.”

-Catalina, Goodreads

“Love this series! Perfect ending to an incredible series! The author has done this series right.”

-Kelly at Nerd Girl

“What has really made these books stand out is how much emotion they evoke from me as a reader, and I love how it comes from a combination of both characters and plot together. Everything is so intricately woven that I have to commend Sarah Noffke on her skills as a writer.”

-Anna at Enchanted by YA

Table of Contents

GET YOUR FREE BOOK HERE

DEFECTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Acknowledgements:

REBELS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Acknowledgements:

WARRIORS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Epilogue

Acknowledgment:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

SNEAK PEEK OF SUSPENDED (VAGABOND CIRCUS SERIES, #1):

SNEAK PEEK OF AWOKEN (THE LUCIDITES SERIES, #1):

SNEAK PEEK OF REN: THE MAN BEHIND THE MONSTER:

GET YOUR FREE BOOK HERE

One-Twenty-Six Press.

Defects

Sarah Noffke

Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Noffke

All rights reserved

Copyeditor: Christine LePorte

Cover Design: Andrei Bat

All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Summary: The easiest way to control people is to make them think they’re defective—but that only works until they realize they’re not.

Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press

ISBN: 978-0-9862080-6-5

To one of my oldest and dearest friends, this one’s for you, Heidi.

Get your free book here

http://www.sarahnoffke.com/free-book/

DEFECTS

Prologue

My fingers tremble as I assemble the pieces.

He’ll be back in a few minutes.

I blink away the sweat dripping into my eyes. I can’t afford to swipe it away.

The two ceramic pieces chip at the edges as I try to match them up to how they should align. I know he keeps glue in his front desk drawer. Everyone does. We fix things that are broken. I slip the tube from the drawer and dab a glob of adhesive on the center of one of the broken pieces and then press it against its counterpart. I’m so used to fixing things, but now I’m not doing it because it’s the law. I’m doing it because if he finds out I was here he’ll punish me with night terrors again.

The pieces slip just as the glue is setting. Ragged breath hitches in my parched throat. If he finds out I was here, that there was a trespassing… I press the pieces together so firmly the glue seeps out and threatens to cement my fingers to the statue. Footsteps in the hallway. Soft-soled shoes. His. I know his gait.

I release my fingers from the statue. It teeters but stands, looking unmarked by the fall it recently experienced. But will it stay up?

The envelope still sits neatly on the mahogany desk. It was my own nervous reaction to it that shook the statue down from its high place on the shelf. I knew I should come here and look first. Knew I’d find information. My father always told me, “Instinct is the gods tapping you on the head.” Still, I wish I knew what lay inside the folds of that envelope that bears my name.

The key slides into the lock, a sound like a reluctant bell. I close my eyes and dream travel back to my body, pulling my consciousness out of its current location.

Chapter One

My house is haunted. I’ve never seen a ghost in it, but Tutu, whose gift is seeing the dead, says there are many who reside in our home. I haven’t received my gift yet. At age seventeen that’s rare. My sister, Dee, teases me that this is a sure sign our mother had an affair with Ed, the mailman, who’s a Middling—a person who can’t dream travel, has no gifts. I pretend this is a joke but with each passing year I believe it could be a possibility. My family is pureblooded Dream Travelers and they’re all gifted with strong talents since puberty. And although I dream travel I have no other talents, which is a first in the Fuller family. My grandmother, who I call Tutu, has three abilities. My mother, two. Even my older sister, Dee, has her gift—which she spends every single opportunity rubbing in my face. Since I have no super power I’ve reverted to spreading false rumors about her all over Austin Valley.

“You’re going to be late again,” Dee says, sounding pleased by the prospect.

“Thanks for the reminder,” I say, not meaning it.

I slip my favorite organic bamboo blouse over my head and hurry out of the room I share with my sister. With one hand I smooth my hair and the other guides me down the banister as I take the stairs two at a time.

“I’m sure his mother would love the opportunity to be interviewed,” my mother says to a visitor in her usual subdued tone. I don’t even chance a glance at her as I scurry to the entryway, head low. Maybe this visitor will actually save me from being scolded. The brass doorknob is cold under my palm. I wrench the door open and pull it back, a rush of warm June air greeting me at once.

“Not so fast there, Em,” my mother says.

I freeze. Push the door closed. Turn and face her.

My mother stands in the threshold of the sitting room, her hands firmly pinned to her hips. “You’re late for your meeting with your father.”

“Which is why I’m rushing to get out of here,” I say, sweeping my eyes to the person my mother was talking to. Zack. He’s giving me a curious expression, arms crossed in front of his suit jacket.

“Have I not instilled in you the proper manners to know you should greet and say farewell to everyone you come in contact with?” she says, shaking her head at me.

“Hi, Mother. Hi, Zack. I’m leaving before Father kills me for being late. Goodbye,” I say, turning on my toes. I slip my hand onto the door handle again, but don’t even dare to open it.

“Em?”

I turn and stare at my mother. Her red hair is pulled back into a tight low bun. Her sleeveless black turtleneck must be stifling in this heat. “Yes, Mother?” I say, working hard to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“You weren’t planning on leaving the house like that, were you?” she asks with a disappointed glare as she sizes up my appearance.

“I was—”

“Looking for your blazer, right?” Zack plucks my black blazer from underneath a cushion on the settee behind him and holds it out for me.

Reluctantly I eye it and then him. He’s wearing his most encouraging look. It partners well with his slick blond hair and winning smile. He’s right, politics is the right career for him.

I take my blazer from him and slip it on. “Thanks,” I say, pulling my tangled blonde curls out from underneath the jacket.

“Oh, you’re still here?!” Dee says, tromping down the stairs behind me. “You really take advantage of our father’s unending patience, don’t you?” Her black heels make note of each of her steps. When she meets me at the landing she pushes my hair behind my ears. “And really, if you’re not going to at least dress like an upper-class Reverian you could brush your hair once in a while.”

I bat her hand away and clench my teeth together. Insulting my sister will not release me from my mother’s wrath, which seeks to make me even later for my appointment. Still, someone should say something about how my sister looks more and more like an obsessed Goth whose only mission in life is to give the Catholic clergymen a heart attack. She wouldn’t understand that reference though. Most people in Austin Valley wouldn’t. My sister is wearing her usual get-up: short pleated skirt, starched black button-up shirt open to reveal too much, heels, and an assortment of gold jewelry.

Instead of commenting on how she looks like a confused Catholic schoolgirl I lick my finger and press it to a flyaway by her hair line. “You have a hair out of place. Here you go, dear.”

She steps back, grotesque horror written on her face. “Eww, don’t touch me.” My sister turns to our mother. They don’t just share the same disapproving scowl, but also the same straight red hair, which they wear similarly. “Oh, Zack, you’re here,” my sister says, strolling in his direction. “I had no idea.”

“Are you blind?” I say dully.

She throws me a contemptuous glare over her shoulder before turning back in Zack’s direction. “You could obviously teach my sister something about dress, couldn’t you?”

He coughs nervously, flicking his eyes over her shoulder to me. I know Dee makes him nervous. Hell, she makes the devil nervous, probably because she’s soulless. I shrug and sling my bag over my shoulder.

“Well…I…” Zack begins.

“There are not many students who choose to wear a suit before they’re chosen for positions,” Dee says, having cleared the space between them. Her long pointy fingernail has found his shoulder and is now tracing its way down his pinstriped sleeve until she finds his hands. She pulls his fingertips up close to her face and inspects. “And such clean nails. This says so very much about you. Obviously you take a great deal of pride in your appearance.”

“I’m merely tryin—”

“Zack is actually here because he’d like to interview your tutu in order to better understand cultural changes which have transpired within our society over the generations,” my mother informs Dee, pride evident in her tone.

“Impeccable dresser and ambitious,” Dee says, her hand still gripping Zack’s.

“Yes, I dare say that if you stay on this track then you’ll make great contributions for the Reverians once released from your studies,” my mother says, her stare not on Zack, but rather on my sister.

Although I realize I’ll be punished later for interrupting this crafty attempt at mating I dare say something. I have other punishments way worse I’d rather avoid. “Well, I really must take my leave,” I say, injecting pleasantry into my voice. “I don’t want to keep Father waiting any longer than I already have. Goodbye.” Again the brass knob greets the palm of my hand.

“Yes, you are so late,” my sister says, eyeing the ancient grandfather clock in the entryway. “He’s going to be livid.”

“I’m going that way too,” Zack says, taking hurried steps in my direction. “I’ll walk with you.”

Just over his shoulder I catch a fiery glare flash in my sister’s eyes.

“Sure,” I say with a shrug and turn at once and hurry out the door.

The humid breeze is a welcome relief from the frigid air in my house. Sunlight greets my eyes with a quiet satisfaction and I smile at the blue sky like it’s an old friend.

“You always do that, don’t you?” Zack says, hurrying to keep up with me.

“Make my mother and sister furious? Yes.”

“Well, yes, that, but I was referring to your reaction to the outdoors. You always break into a relieved smile when you walk outside.”

I snuggle my shoulders up high, enjoying the warm sun on my cheeks. “I do love it,” I say, pausing to allow a group of elderly Reverians to pass in front of us. Zack pauses with me but gives an irritated expression while we wait. “I’m already late,” I finally say to him when they’ve moved on and we continue down Central Boulevard.

“I don’t get you, Em,” he says, shaking his head. “Why do you make your life harder when you know what they want you to do?”

“I just find it difficult to conform to their standards. I mean, why in the hell should I have to wear a blazer in the middle of the summer?” I say, scratching at my forearms which are already sweating under the tight-fitting jacket.

“It’s just customs. If you followed them then they’d leave you alone and let you do what you want.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Zack.

“It seems you’re looking to get in trouble: being late when it’s easy to be early, dressing inappropriately when they supply you the right clothes, and not following etiquette.”

“And may I point out that you seem to only notice my shortcomings,” I say, taking an early turn. It’s a shortcut down a less than desirable neighborhood, but still completely safe and will save us an extra minute on the commute.

Zack’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. I stop and look at him, ready to defend the route I’ve chosen. His denim blue eyes lock on mine. “That’s not all I notice,” he says, a firmness in his voice.

“Mmm…” I say, gauging his expression which is so familiar and also year by year growing indistinct, like my father’s. “Yeah, what else do you notice?” I say, turning and continuing our trek. The alleyway here is a little more crowded, but only because this is a Middling street where they build the houses too close together and the insides are too small for the families who are forced to reside within them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zack says, eyeing a man leaning in his doorway up ahead. “We can finish this conversation later. Let’s just get you to Chief Fuller’s office quickly.”

“Right,” I say, kicking the contents of a puddle, which is no doubt a result of poor drainage from the sprinkler system. It splatters droplets on my shoes and bare legs, but doesn’t irritate me in the least.

At my father’s office Zack stops, eyeing the door and then me with an uncertain expression. “You know I’m just trying to help, right?”

“Then you shouldn’t have offered to escort me here,” I say, pushing him playfully in the chest. “Dee will probably set fire to my bed while I’m sleeping tonight as retribution.” Literally she’s done that a time or two. I have no idea why the most hostile Dream Traveler born to the gods was given the gift of pyrokinesis.

Zack doesn’t respond, but instead gives me his usual commiserative expression. He doesn’t know what to say. I get that. “Yeah, I know you’re trying to help,” I finally say. “You may want to consider there’s no help for me. I’m a Dream Traveler whose only talent is I disappoint my family.”

“Oh, Em, I’ve told you that your gift is delayed. It will come on soon and when it does you’ll blow all of them away.”

“Thanks, Zack,” I say, reaching out and straightening his tie. It isn’t even that crooked, but I know he likes when I do it because it sharpens his appearance. “Are you off to go take over Austin Valley?”

“Not quite yet,” he says with a wink. “I’ve got a thing or two to learn still.”

“Don’t we all,” I say, returning the wink and then dismissing him by facing my father’s ornately carved door. I’ve stalled long enough. Now I must face that which is certain to be extremely unpleasant.

Chapter Two

The redwood door is carved with leaves and vines and depictions of Greek gods. It’s intricate, like everything in Austin Valley. We should be using our resources for offering better living quarters for Middlings or educating their children. Instead, we make sure our doors have detailed carving, our silver is polished, and our hair isn’t holding chemical residues because it’s washed with the finest shampoos.

The wood hardly registers under my calloused knuckles when I knock. I want to be too calloused for my father also, but I’m not. He’ll respond exactly six seconds after my knock. I know this. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“Come in, Em,” he says to his empty office, loud enough so I can hear.

I lock down my thoughts before I enter, shield them the best way I know how. My father’s office has always reminded me of one in a dollhouse, too small for the person who plays in it and too small for the things that happen within it. My eyes search the space. The statue I broke this morning still stands high on its shelf, solidly.

“You do know you’re late?” he says, pushing back from his desk, which is half the size of a Cadillac.

“I realize that, Father, and I do apologize,” I say, rushing forward. “It’s Dee.”

“Dee?” he says, standing up and pinning his hands on the surface of his desk. My father is blond like me, but gray hairs are starting to streak his slicked back hair. “Why has she caused you to be late?”

“Oh, I thought you knew about her current situation,” I say, slipping down into the seat beside his desk. It’s firm and gives me the extra support I need right now.

“Em,” he says, his tone demanding. “I do not know so tell me at once why Dee has caused your tardiness.”

“Well, as you know, she’s trying to make a pleasing union with Zack Conerly,” I say and pause.

“I am aware of that. But what does this have to do with you?”

“Well, Zack was completely insulted by her lack of decorum, so I spent a few extra minutes just now encouraging him to give her one more chance. I’m sorry if my lateness has angered you, but I risked this thinking that my sister’s long-term happiness was worth it,” I say, pretending to fidget with my hands.

My father pauses and considers me. “Well, I’ll dismiss your punishment this once, but in the future remember that others’ well-being isn’t your concern, even if it will benefit your family. You’ve been taught that, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Father. And thank you,” I say, forbidding a satisfied smile to grace my lips.

“Em, I’ve called this meeting to inform you that you’ll have to schedule an extra visit to the lab each day.”

“What? But I have—”

“To do what you’re told,” my father completes my sentence.

“Of course, but you know I have agriculture hours that would have to be cut.”

“And so they will be cut,” my father says, striding around his desk. “Since your gift still hasn’t surfaced I want you to have two injections a day, as well as regular evaluations.”

“Two?” I question, flinching with dread. “But why?”

“Why can’t you move something with your mind? Read thoughts? Do anything that Middlings can’t?” my father asks, standing stockily in front of me. “The President and I would love answers to these questions. Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then you’ll attend as many lab visits as we request and endure all the tests, won’t you?”

“I want to know why my gift hasn’t surfaced, I really do,” I say, straightening my blazer, knowing that the result will probably not garner much favor from my father. “It’s just that the hours I spend at the farms are so satisfying and I really need that.”

He presses his eyelids tightly together, shaking his head. “Maybe the problem, the reason you have no gift, is you’re more Middling than you are Dream Traveler.”

“Father, just because—”

“All logic fails to explain why my daughter chooses to spend her extracurricular hours doing the work of Middlings.”

“I enjoy it and that work feeds our community.”

“That work is not your responsibility. What if eagles chose not to fly, but rather hop around from branch to branch like a toucan? That would be a waste of great talents. Species and races are divided for a divine reason. You’re obviously confused on your place in this hierarchy and I’m drawing to the end of my tolerance with it.”

“Father, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but—”

“This conversation is over. You will report to the lab every morning and afternoon from this point forward, is that clear?”

“Yes,” I say.

“And starting next week you’ll meet with a skills assessor the President has hired to work with all Defects.”

Defects. That’s what they’re calling us now. The term was no doubt picked to encourage shame, which my father thinks will inspire perseverance.

“Okay,” I say, threading my fingers together in front of me. The letter I saw this morning still sits where I spied it, but the label is hidden from my view. Still, I know what it says on the front: “Top Secret Case: Em Fuller.”

How did I become a top secret case? That’s what I need to figure out, but the only way I’ll do that is through compliance.

“Thank you for helping me, Father. I really want my gift.”

“And it will come, Em,” my father says in a tired voice. “Just follow all my instructions.”

“Yes, Father. Of course.”

I swing open his door and go to exit.

“Oh, and Em?”

“Yes?” I say, stopping in the doorway.

“Thank you for helping your sister. Zack is a smart match for her. And I fear the gods above have punished us and we’ll never be rid of you and your sister, Nona.”

“Yes, Father, you are right, we’re insufferable,” I say with a small curtsy.

***

The dirt is cool and moist under my fingertips. The perfect combination for fertile soil. Morning sun is my favorite. It has a quality of pureness to it. Although I had to go to the lab and skip agricultural hours last night, I’m here now. It feels good. Firmly I pat soil around the base of each plant. I enjoy this phase in the growing process, but harvest will come in a few months and I’ll find true satisfaction. There’s nothing like breaking a vegetable from its stem. And there’s nothing like the satisfaction of knowing it has become whole enough to make something else wholesome.

I turn to Dean, who’s working beside me. He smiles back. He’s always smiling while he works. His family lives in one of the small dwellings on the street where Zack and I walked yesterday. Dean deserves more.

“The crops are looking good this year,” he says, standing and sizing up the field with a sweeping glance.

“Maybe if we have a big harvest this year then there will be a bonus,” I say with a hopeful smile as I pile my tools into the box.

“Never, ever been a bonus, miss,” he says, swiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his tanned arm.

“But I’ve been putting in the suggestion. Bigger efforts lead to bigger gains and they should be rewarded.”

He claps me on the back. Laughs. He nods at me like we both heard a joke, but he’s the only one who got the punch line. “Wish the others thought like you.”

“They will, some day,” I say, brushing dirt off my fingers.

“Maybe my children’s children will have that privilege, but I won’t.”

“Why don’t you leave? Go and run your own farm?”

He shakes his head with a deliberate force and throws me a confused look. “I can’t leave.”

“But you’re not a prisoner here,” I say.

“No, I’m no prisoner. But I was born here, same as my father. I don’t know anything else but Austin Valley.”

It’s interesting that the longer we confine ourselves to a place the more it imprisons us. I wonder if long-time captives refuse to leave their cell even when they’re handed the key.

“Have you tried to leave before?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah, a decade ago. ’Fore the kids,” Dean says, looking at his hands but not quite seeing them. “Now I choose to stay. Every day I choose to serve the Reverians. The same as the rest of the Middlings. Because when I left, I didn’t sleep so well. I wasn’t happy. Only gone a few weeks, but it was different on the outside. Harder. People here, the Reverians, they make it easy. Outside Austin Valley, you have to do everything on your own. Make it on your own.” He shakes his head, looking overwhelmed by the idea. “That’s harder than you think. It’s hard to survive in the world out there. Harder than I ever imagined. I realized when I came back, what I’d taken for granted. And if that ain’t enough to choose to stay, well, my children are happy here, safe. You know? It’s a pretty good place. They do good by us,” he says, not making eye contact with me. His eyes stay trained on his dirt-stained fingertips. A sliver of a smile forms on his mouth, but it’s not quite genuine. “You know they helped Patsy and me to forget about what we lost, don’t you?”

I nod, a knot rising in my throat.

“Think about how much harder that would have been if we’d had to endure it out there,” he says, pointing just over the ridge where the world is less organized. “If we weren’t in Austin Valley, under the care and protection of the Reverians, then things would have been harder. That ain’t worth no farm, I tell you that much.”

A few years ago Dean and his wife lost a child. I heard they rushed the baby away before Patsy could even hold her. And after thirty-six hours of labor I’m certain that’s all she wanted. Apparently when the doctor returned his hands were empty and his face grave. Dean wasn’t the same for a month, missing work and making mistakes on the job. President Vider authorized for the modifier to be used on him and his family. All their memories of the child they lost have mostly disappeared, all but a single strand of the moment the child was taken away. I overheard my father tell my mother they kept this memory so that Dean and his family would be grateful, knowing that the President’s administration saved them from a lot more emotional anguish.

“I bet those seedlings you planted will hatch tomorrow. Be nice to see them push through the dirt,” Dean says.

“Well, I’d like to see them when they’re fresh and new, but I’m not sure I can spare the hours tomorrow. I’m kind of overloading my schedule by being here now,” I say, grabbing my bag full of clean, presentable clothes and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Whew, I praise the gods above they didn’t make me a Dream Traveler. I can’t imagine having the pressing demands you all have to put up with daily.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say with a wink. “I think they blessed you with more talents than a Dream Traveler could stand. No one knows the earth and phases of the moon quite like you, Dean.”

“If I have a rival, then it’s you, miss,” he says, pulling his ball cap down low from the sun rising higher in the Oregon sky.

“I’ll see you tomorrow if I can,” I say, saluting him and rushing down the fields, grazing various plants with my fingertips.

Chapter Three

For four years I’ve been coming to this lab. One might think I’d favor it somehow, have a certain bond with the space. I don’t. The people have grown on me, though, despite the painful associations I’ve unfortunately attached to them. It’s not their fault. They’re doing their job. And each year their job becomes more difficult as the list of Defects grows. I used to be one of only a few patients. Now I have to wait for my injections.

“Ms. Fuller,” Tammy says, poking her head through the lab door. Her soft brown curls remind me of yarn made from alpaca’s wool. “Dr. Parker is ready for you.”

I smile and nod. Tammy never says much to me, although we’ve habitually gotten used to seeing each other. She seems to keep an extra distance from most of the patients, and maybe I would too in her position. The room she leads me to is different from the normal one I’m used to. It’s not a patient room, but rather the open lab behind the exam rooms, where test tubes and other equipment I’m unfamiliar with are kept. My speculative glance at Tammy must give away my confusion.

“We’re getting busier, and since you’re a veteran at getting injections Dr. Parker decided to do your treatment here. All the rooms are full at the moment.”

“Okay,” I say, taking a seat on a swivel chair and watching Tammy’s long brown hair bounce as she retreats.

“Dr. Parker will be right in,” she says, dropping my chart into the holder on the wall.

Curious objects all around me suck in my attention. At my back is another door, one with a small wired window. I half want to get up and spy through it, but I don’t want to be caught being inquisitive so I stay seated. Still, this is a forbidden place. The back of the labs. For as long as I’ve been coming here I’ve never been allowed to step into this room. I always imagined this was where the chemicals they formulated and tweaked to try to fix us were being mixed. I figured this was a place that should be kept without disturbances, so great is the mission of the lab in trying to fix an epidemic of Defects.

“There’s my favorite patient,” Parker says, not looking at me as he plucks my chart from the wall. A couple of years ago he asked me to drop the Doctor part, said it would make our relationship more relaxed. “How are you feeling after this morning’s injection?”

“Sore,” I admit.

“I’m afraid that you’ll notice this injection hurts far worse,” he says.

“So you’re not sugar coating it for me anymore, are you?”

He sighs and gives a defeated nod. “Afraid not. There’s not much I can do to lessen the pain and the extra injection is usually not as easily tolerated by patients,” he says, flipping through my chart and then laying it down. His brown eyes pause on me, a sympathetic smile on his mouth.

“But the results? Have they been good? For the patients who are now getting two injections? Have those patients gotten their gifts?” I ask, hopeful.

He shakes his head, his dark brown hair moving with it, breaking out of the shiny gel. “Unfortunately, we’ve just started doing the two-injection method so it’s hard to tell. No results yet,” he says with perfect diction. Parker grew up outside Austin Valley, in a Korean family, but I’ve never spied a hint of an accent.

“Well, maybe you can tell me a funny story while you give me this, huh?” I say, allowing him to run the thermometer across my forehead. He eyes the reading and smiles.

“As healthy as ever,” he says, tearing open the package containing the alcohol swab.

I sit up tall, since I know that’s the best position for receiving the injection, as Parker takes the position behind me.

“Hmmm,” he says, readying the syringe. “I think, at this stage in the day, I’m all out of stories, but I’ll have one ready for you tomorrow, all right?”

The tip of the needle is twenty-two gauge, not big unless you consider being stuck with it daily. Parker told me that was the right thickness for a needle that has to enter the brain stem. “One. Two. Three,” he says. The needle punctures into the base of my skull, a sharp paralyzing sensation. And then the pain. Three seconds of mind-numbing fire. I’ve learned to count backwards during this part, until the fire turns to a slow burn. That’s precisely the moment that Parker injects the meds, a cold, pink fluid. It makes my head feel on fire and also like I have the worst case of brain freeze in the world. This time the sensations are so overwhelming I hardly register when he slips the needle out the back of my neck, bandages the injection site, and releases my hair.

“Em, you know not to move for fifteen minutes,” Parker says, already turning to the exit. “Usually I’d stay and watch your vitals, but I think you’ll be fine. I’ve got a long list of patients to get to so I’m going to expect you as a veteran to keep yourself here until a quarter after and then show yourself out. Can I trust you to do that?” he says, his long skinny fingers on the doorknob. A nervous rush in his voice.

“Of course,” I say; the smile I brandish actually hurts my head.

“Good girl,” he says with a relieved smile and exits.

Parker is right—as one of the first kids to start receiving the injections, I’m familiar with the protocol. Patients are supposed to remain still, head up, no neck movement for five minutes. Parker tells everyone fifteen, but he once slipped and told me that five minutes was fine and the extra bit was just precautionary.

The pain is more manageable when I close my eyes, but it’s hard not to slump like that so I search the room and take in all the strange equipment, all used to try to create a solution for Defects. Mother thinks the Defects are a part of a cursed lineage who’ve finally been chosen for redemption by the gods. So according to her logic we’re paying the price for her ancestors’ misdeeds. It doesn’t make sense to me why random kids within a generation would be chosen for punishment for things that happened centuries before our birth. Still, all I want is for this to be over with. I want my gift. I’m tired of being punished.

At five after, I slip off the stool. Maybe if I rush to the farm, I’ll have a chance to spy on the new plants and see if they’ve pushed through the soil yet. I’m almost to the door when a baby’s cry arrests my attention. It’s a flat, aching wail, like that of a newborn. And the cry is unmistakably coming through a crack in the other door. The one that’s labeled in giant red letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Someone forgot to the shut the door all the way. The deadbolt is still resting on the strike plate, not yet engaged.

My mind flashes to the letter with my name on it in my father’s office. To the series of events which have been building my suspicion. To the fact that an infant is crying behind a door where only lab technicians should be working.

A cautionary glance through the door’s small window confirms no one is in the general vicinity of the next room. I slip the door open and poke my head around the corner. It’s empty of people. What it doesn’t lack is objects. Beakers, test tubes, microscopes, and vials of pink liquid crowd the work surfaces in the next room. The space actually surprises me. It’s way too untidy and is dangerously close to violating laws. Some cabinets are still ajar, their contents obstructing them from being closed completely, and the same can be said for a closet. The disorder feeds my curiosity so I tiptoe further into the large room, keeping my body as close to the wall as I can. Another lab door stands on the other side of the room, this one unmarked and unlocked.

Since I’m not sure what I’m looking for, the complete disorder of this room confuses me. How can I find clues when I’m not certain what the riddle is? All I know is my father is hiding something. Probably for my own good. Probably to protect the Reverians. But the President definitely has him covering something up. And I’m not even sure why I suspect the labs, but again I’ve got that feeling like the gods are tapping me on the head.

The baby cries again. It echoes through the other door. I half rush to the door, fearing the child needs something I can provide, but still each of my steps are tentative. Halfway to the door I check over my shoulder. The lab I came through appears still to be empty. How long until Parker returns? Maybe he won’t. I’m just about to rush forward when a tired voice echoes from the door in front of me.

“Can you make that one shut up already? I can’t work with all that racket,” a woman says. She has her back up against the window of the lab door on the other side, only a few feet away. I’m frozen in place. Unable to retreat. Unable to find a proper hiding place. She pushes the door open with her behind, a tray of tubes in her hands as she backs into the room. “And once you’re done with that kid come help me sort these tubes. I’m way behind.”

I have seconds to move. To do something. Anything before the blonde lab tech turns around and sees me. I remain frozen, standing in the lab.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” a guy calls from the other lab room. “And we’re all behind so join the freaking club, would you?”

She nods. I watch her balance the tray on her legs and smile. “I started the club, buddy.” And she turns, eyes trained on the contents in her hands, but soon they’ll look up and find me.

A hand slips around my wrist and jerks me through the closet door. Instantly I’m blanketed in darkness and arms. I squeak out a breath but only after a hand clamps down on my mouth, stifling my cry. Another arm wraps around my waist and wrenches me back. I’m pressed up against someone. In a dark closet. Now no breath fills my body. Only fear. Lips touch the back of my ear. A hot breath follows.

“Shhh! I’m not going to hurt you. But be quiet or you’re gonna get yourself in serious trouble,” the voice says.

“Okay,” I mouth against his hand which is still covering my lips. In this small space I instantly suck in everything about the person who’s just captured/saved me. He smells of bark and rosemary. A lot of rosemary. The hand pressed over my mouth is calloused. And his heart is keeping pace with mine, doing double time. It thumps against my back, since he has me pressed so firmly against him.

“Shhhh,” he says again in my ear. “They’ll be gone soon. Just stay still.”

I nod and he drops the hand from my mouth.

“Sean!” the woman who almost caught me snaps. I jump and the person behind me steadies me, tugging me tighter into him. “Get in here already!”

“How in the world am I supposed to get a child to quiet down with you yelling?” a guy says, his voice drawing nearer. Through the crack I spy a figure move past the closet where I’m hiding and hurry to an opposite workbench.

“Oh, never mind that,” the lady says, sounding tired. “When are you going to do the withdrawal on that one?”

“As soon as possible. The parents are waiting to take him home, but he was so upset I couldn’t do it just now. And after him there’s a dozen other babies being brought in.”

“Sheesh,” the lady says, exasperation in her tone. “I can’t keep working like this. Look at this place! If we weren’t under exemption we’d all be fined for the disorder. We’ve got to get a chance to catch up or the work will suffer.”

The stranger’s hand around my waist drops, yet I don’t dare look up at the guy I know stands behind me. I feel him just over my shoulder, breathing hard, but I can’t force myself to turn my chin and take him in. And still my attention is owned by the conversation happening outside this closet. I’m not sure what any of it means, but bits and pieces are starting to trigger strange cues in my brain. Gods above, tell me what all this means. Why would anyone get an exemption?

“Look, I don’t care if President Vider wants us to work without breaks. I need something to eat. I’m getting lightheaded,” the whiny lady says.

“Not sure if disobeying a direct order is a good idea. He told us—”

“Oh, come on. Let’s just grab a quick snack. My blood sugar is dropping faster than the DOW,” she says, and I watch the two figures move across the crack in the closet door and then the door on the other side gives a gentle click as it locks back into place.

They’re gone. And the most terrifying thing is not what I’ve just heard or that I was almost caught in a forbidden place. It’s that I must now turn around and face the person who’s sharing this tiny space with me. I first take a step forward. The idea to just rush out of the closet, never meeting the person who saved me, courses through my mind. But the gods stop me at the threshold of the closet. With light streaming in from the lab I turn. All belief empties out of me in one hyperventilated breath.

“Rogue!” I say entirely too loudly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were dead?!”

Chapter Four

Rogue rushes forward, claps his hand over my mouth again. A fierce look upon his face. “Shhh!” he says up close, his forehead against mine, an act meant to subdue me and then also one meaning more. One full of a fondness that instantly wraps around me. “Oh, gods. I didn’t know it was you, Em.” He sucks in a breath. “Hi,” he says, a coyness in his voice.

I push back from him, looking him over from his head full of chaotic dark curls to his dirt-caked boots. The weirdest feelings take hold of me and that’s precisely when I realize I’m in shock. That’s what these feelings are. The cold numbness. The dizziness. The swimming head. I utterly can’t believe Rogue stands before me. He can’t. He shouldn’t. Not in the world I live in. “Hi?” I finally say in disbelief, careful to keep my voice down. “That’s what you have to say to me? Hi?”

“Good to see you,” he says, backing up until he’s flush against shelves crammed with supplies.

“Did you not hear me properly?” I say through clenched teeth. “I thought you were dead. We all did.” I almost reach out to run my fingers down his flannel shirt, to ensure he’s real. “Rogue...is this really you? How can this be? We thought something happened to you.”

He smirks, a cute crooked smile, a mischievous spark in his almond-shaped green eyes. “Something did happen to me.”

“What? Are you all right? Where have you been?”

“Hiding,” he says.

“Hiding? But why?”

He shakes his head, a quiet smile on his face like he just heard a joke. “Oh, Em, you were always good at drawing me out of my hiding places. I should have known it would be you who found me.”

My mind flashes on a memory so long ago it feels like a distant life, but we aren’t granted reincarnation by the gods so I know this is a memory from this life. As a child, many times when we played hide-and-seek, I’d pretend to trip and sprain something. Rogue would come out to save me or make sure I was all right. Zack always stayed hidden until the bitter end.

“Rogue, where have you been? Everyone thinks you’re dead,” I repeat.

“Yeah, about that. I’m not dead, but you can’t tell anyone.”

I shake my head, ultra-confused. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I say, looking around the crowded closet we share.

“What are you doing here?” he says, his dark curly hair falling down in his eyes. He’s grown since the last time I saw him, four years ago. He’s taller. Stronger. His features more pronounced. And his black hair is an absolute mess. His father would kill him right now if he didn’t already think he was dead.

“Rogue, you’ve been gone for four years. We had a memorial service for you. The gods were asked to bless an empty resting place. Do you know how many times I brought flowers to—” Tears suddenly constrict my throat. Ones I haven’t felt for him in so long. Tears I thought had dried up. Gone away.

“Shhh. Shhh. Shhh,” Rogue says, moving forward, wrapping arms around me I recently felt, but didn’t know belonged to him. “I’m sorry, Em. So sorry,” he says into my hair. “I couldn’t tell anyone where I was. I had to go away.”

“But your father?” I say, pushing back so I’m looking at him directly.

His eyes suddenly tighten. “Don’t tell my father anything about me. You have to promise.”

“But—”

“Please, Em,” he pleads, his hands now pinned on my forearms. “I’ll explain some stuff, but you can’t tell anyone about me. Please promise.”

“Okay,” I say, a new thought occurring to me. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Yes, you do,” he says. “But I’ve got to stay a little longer. I’m not done yet.”

“Wait, you’re not coming?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“But you said you’d explain.”

“And I will. Can you dream travel to meet me tonight?” he asks.

“I can’t, it’s not a sanctioned night.”

“Then meet me in the park.”

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” I can’t believe he’s here. “I have to think about it. If I’m caught… Well, I was just punished recently.”

“How long?” he asks, a look of concern in his eyes.

“A week.” One long week of being hooked to the night terror generator, forced to sleep through nightmare after nightmare, my subconscious exhausted in the morning by serving up every horror it knew of.

He shakes his head. “I understand. I’ll be in Lidill Park if you choose to meet me.”

“I still can’t believe you’re here. You’re alive,” I say, this time reaching out, clutching his hand.

He grips my hand back. Smiles. “Time for you to go, Em.”

Chapter Five

Even with the blanket tightly wrapped around my shoulders I’m still shivering. In June. Furiously I rub my hands together, blow my hot breath into them.

“Child, you’re sitting on a spirit,” my tutu says, trudging through the living room on her way to the dining area. Her cane knocks against the wood floor with each step. “Move to the chair and you’d be warmer.”

“Which ghost is it?”

“Ronald,” Tutu says, leaning on her cane, her shoulders rounded.

“Well, Ronald,” I say, talking to the air. “This is my house now, so why don’t you move.” I stick out my tongue at Tutu.

She sticks hers out back at me. “Ronald tells me you aren’t washing behind your ears enough.”

“Gross, he’s watching me shower.”

“Don’t get all flattered. He watches Damien shower too.”

“Even grosser. He watches Father shower?” I say, sliding over on the sofa to a slightly warmer spot.

Tutu shrugs. “He’s more bored than he is curious,” she says, craning her head over her shoulder at Zack. He’s leafing through one of the stories my younger sister, Nona, wrote and pushed into his hands as soon as he entered the house. “Oh, come on, Mr. Conerly. Do you want your interview or not?”

Zack smiles at Nona, ruffles the hair on the top of her head, and hands back her handwritten pages. “I’ll check them out later, how’s that?” he says to her.

She blushes. Nods.

“Come over here, Nona,” I say, pulling the blanket down around my legs. “Come warm up my feet and I’ll read your story.”

“You already read my story like twelve times,” she says, but still takes the spot next to me, lying down slightly on my feet.

Zack’s eyes graze mine as he passes on his way to meet Tutu in the dining area, the usual focus written on his face.

“Well, how about I play with your hair and you can tell Ronald and me about your next story,” I say to Nona as she lays her head against my curled up legs.

“I like Ronald,” she says, a smile in her voice. “Maybe I’ll put him in a story.”

“Hey, Nona,” I whisper. “I might need your help again. Need you to cover for me while I dream travel one of these nights.”

She flips up her head and rolls her eyes. “No, I don’t wanna. Mother’s already talking about having me see someone for a psych eval because I’m too much of a baby to sleep alone.”

The other night Nona covered for me. Wore my sleep cuff so it appeared I wasn’t dream traveling, although that’s exactly what I’d been doing so I could investigate my father’s office. She wore her cuff on one wrist and mine on the other. The sleep cuffs go on promptly at bedtime and if they come off during the night or indicate a wearer has dream traveled, then the punishment is a week of night terrors. I learned that the hard way. Nona has to pretend to be too scared to sleep on those nights so I have the reason to spend the night in her room. The irony is Nona, who’s four years younger than me, isn’t scared of anything. She’s the toughest Reverian I’ve ever met, but no one knows that because most don’t notice her.

“Nona, I think I’m on to something and need to investigate it soon,” I say, stroking my fingers through her hair.

“Why don’t you have Tutu do it? She probably would,” she says with a sigh.

I flip my head around and spy my tutu and Zack in the dining room. He’s sitting up tall, scribbling on a notepad, seeming to record her every word. Tutu’s eyes are directed up high as she tries to recollect old memories. “Back in those days, people dressed how they liked, did as they pleased,” she says, a hint of fondness in her voice. “Let’s say you dented your bike, well, you fixed it or you didn’t. There was no law saying you had to. No scripture saying that the proof of mistakes led to more mistakes.”  She scratches her chin, a thought obviously churning under her curly gray hair. “You know, it’s funny because the gods are supposedly as old as time, but I don’t remember them always being so rigid. Actually the gods I grew up with were a bit more like the President I grew up with. I guess it isn’t that funny that the gods who rule our lives always seem to take on the personality of the President who rules us currently.”

Zack flicks his eyes up just in time to catch Tutu’s wink. He doesn’t return it, but instead repositions himself nervously. “Well, yes, President Vider is a bit stricter than his predecessors,” he says.

She smirks, but doesn’t respond. Still, I know her well enough to know she has a crafty retort at the ready in her head but won’t waste it on Zack, who would probably dismiss it. His father works for my father and has been strategic in his rise up the political ladder. Zack would never spoil that for him by discussing President Vider unfavorably, even with his Chief of Staff’s mother.

“One thing that hasn’t changed is the devotion to the gods,” my tutu says, a smile lighting up her face, bringing with it a dozen wrinkles. “Middlings and Dream Travelers have always seemed to feel the gods’ weight in their lives, their purity.” She toggles her head back and forth, a question in her eyes. “Still, I don’t believe they created us as the golden race, like the President does, meant to protect Middlings. Never have. I just think they created us differently and their divine plan isn’t for us to know or use for our own agendas.” The insinuation makes Zack straighten. He flicks his eyes at me and I slide back down on the couch, pretending I wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Well,” I say to Nona, who looks to be almost asleep on my leg, “you don’t have to do it now, but maybe you’ll consider covering for me in a few days. I’d owe you big.”

“I’ll consider it,” she says, pushing some drool away with her hand as she slides softly into dreamland.

I twirl her hair around and around my fingers, getting lost in the rhythm of the movement and her gentle breathing. Her hair is blonde like mine, all loose curls that frizz up crazy in the humid months. And now that she’s just hit puberty, she’s a little more self-conscious, borrowing my hair gel to try and corral it back.

My tutu’s words are a low hum for the next hour. It’s only when I hear Zack clear his throat that I know he’s exchanging pleasantries, about to take his leave. Stealthily, I slide Nona’s head to the cushion underneath me as I stand. She lies like a doll, all round and freckled, and innocently perfect. A shiver slips out of her lips, probably due to the loss of my body heat. I wrap the afghan around her.

“Ronald, go watch Dee do her voodoo upstairs, would you?” I say to the empty side of the sofa.

“Are you talking to yourself, Em?” Zack says as he approaches from the dining room, a subtle smile on his mouth.

“According to the ancient artifact in there,” I say, motioning to the dining room where my tutu is still stationed, “I’m talking to Ronald, the Reverian who used to live in this house. He discovered gold in the mountains west of here and helped to found this society, but yes, I’m probably talking to myself.”

“That artifact has some pretty amazing tidbits of knowledge,” Zack says as I walk with him to the foyer.

“How old did she tell you she is? Because she always lies about her age.”

“One hundred and nine years old.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s ninety-nine,” I say with a laugh. “She’s the only lady alive who lies to make herself older.”

“Except those outside of Austin Valley, trying to buy alcohol or lottery tickets,” Zack says, taking off his jacket and slinging it over his arm. His pressed white shirt glows in the dim light of the entryway.

I slide up close to him, nervous tension bounding out of my chest. “I have something I need to tell you.”

He eyes me speculatively, caution on his face. “Go ahead.”

My eyes sweep around the various rooms that surround us and then settle back on Zack. “It’s Rogue,” I say so low it’s hardly classified as a whisper.

His eyes pinch together, confusion in them.

“He’s alive. I saw him today,” I say, realizing how crazy these words make me sound.

Zack is already shaking his head. Looking at me like I’m trying to play a mean joke on him. His lips tighten, along with his eyes. “Em,” he says, a warning in his voice.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I swear the gods can strike me down now if I’m lying.”

We pause. Wait. They’ve done it before so that’s a bold statement not just anyone will throw out.

Nothing happens to me.

“He said he’s been hiding,” I say in an urgent whispered rush. “Said no one can know he’s alive.”

“Em,” Zack says again in the same disbelieving tone, but this time he grabs my arm.

“He asked me to meet him tonight,” I say, laying my hand over his.

Zack pauses. Searches my eyes. Winces with acute disbelief.

“Go with me,” I urge him.

“But we can’t. There’s curfew and—”

“I know. Just go with me,” I say again. “You’re not going to believe me unless you see him with your own eyes and I’m telling you he’s alive. Not dead. Not missing. I wouldn’t lie to you. I never have. You have to—”

“I’ll go,” he interrupts. “If you say he’s alive, I believe you, Em.”

Chapter Six

Half an hour. That’s as much time as Tutu said she’d cover for me. I’m supposedly in her quarters, learning to sew. If my mother paid the least bit of attention then she’d know I learned that years ago. Her job is more to keep tabs on me, rather than know the specifics of my life. She always wanted a Middling nanny for us, but Father wouldn’t allow it. He said they were good enough to clean our house, manicure us, and cook our meals, but they weren’t fit to raise Dream Traveler children.

“Come on,” I say, tugging on Zack’s shirt sleeve. “Can you go any faster?”

Everything about him is reluctant. I’m not sure how I’d have reacted if the tables were turned, if he told me something so outlandish. I want to think I’d believe him instantly, not drudge down the path like I’m on my way to meet a mythical sea creature in the forest.

Rogue and I didn’t have time to discuss where to meet, but I know where he’ll be. In our spot. The place past the two ponds, far out of the way of the heavy traffic of park visitors. It’s where we’d spend hours lying in the grass watching clouds slide through the sky. It’s where I accidentally pierced Rogue’s ear with a stick when we were pretending to duel as pirates. Zack threw up in the stream afterwards.

A broad-shouldered figure stands beside that stream now, his hair catching slightly in the warm breeze. It’s hard to know as we approach if it’s Rogue, since the only light is cast by the moon and he stands in the shadow of an oak tree. The figure turns his head when a twig cracks under my foot. And then I see a profile so familiar and also not quite what I remember. The jaw line is more pronounced than in my memories. The angle of his nose more defined. His hair not governed by gel, instead curling at his hairline.

And then Zack finally moves with an urgency to surpass mine. He’s sprinting, tearing across the grass. In one swift movement he throws his arms around Rogue’s shoulders, wrenching him in tightly. Rogue stumbles back a step and then his arms stretch around, gripping Zack’s back. A laugh echoes from him. A soothing sound. I arrive at their side and over Zack’s shoulder Rogue smiles at me. “I told you not to tell anyone, but I knew you knew that meant ‘tell only one person.’ I’m glad you did,” he says, opening up his arm and pulling me in so we’re all locked in an embrace. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my life. Forever and ever I want to feel Zack’s disbelief come in small laughs and Rogue’s arms around my shoulders, his fingers pinning into my skin like he can’t believe I’m the one who’s real. A sound halfway between a cry and a cough rolls out of my mouth, unleashing a tender ache within.

There’s a stern look on Zack’s face when he pulls back. “Rogue, where have you been, man?”

He challenges the look with a light smile. Pats Zack on the shoulder. “Oh, brother, I’ve been all over.”

They aren’t brothers, but since I can remember Rogue called him that. Zack never returned the nickname, maybe because I suspect he never felt equal enough to him. Maybe that’s changed.

“What does that mean, Rogue?” Zack shakes his head, his initial relief now turning to anger. “Four years ago you just disappeared. What’s happened to you?”

“I had to leave. I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you I didn’t have a choice. You have to believe me.” Rogue turns to me. “Em, I told you I’d tell you stuff and I’m gonna make right on that promise, I promise.” He smiles, a dimple surfacing. After all this time, he hasn’t changed. Is never quite serious.

I nod, feeling entranced briefly. Rogue is built more like a Middling with strong, sculpted muscles. Broad shoulders. A barrel chest. Dark olive skin. He’s dressed like a Middling too. Jeans and boots. He looks so strange next to Zack, who exchanged his suit for khakis and a button-down shirt. He’s slim. Lean. Pale. Hair pushed back in the usual arrangement.

“Your father?” Zack reaches out and clutches Rogue’s bicep. “Does he know you’re alive?”

“No!” Rogue says, clapping a hand over Zack’s, gripping it. “I mean, he might, but you can’t tell him you’ve seen me. He’s who I’ve been hiding from.”

“President Vider?” I say in disbelief. “Why would you hide from him?” My father, as his Chief of Staff, was there a lot for the President after Rogue disappeared. For months we didn’t see my father, his job as support to the President coming first.

“The Reverians aren’t who you all think.” Rogue clutches either side of his head like a sudden pain just assaulted him. He takes in a few shallow breaths before continuing. “My father, your President, isn’t who you think he is. Right before I disappeared I learned something so unbelievable I had to leave, had to save myself from it.”

“You couldn’t tell us?” Zack asks, sounding hurt. “You had to allow us to think you were dead?”

Rogue nods. Shrugs. “I didn’t have a chance. I had to. I didn’t want to hurt you with what I knew. You were better off not knowing.” He blows out an exasperated breath. “Because once the blindfold comes off there’s no going back.”

“But you said you’d tell me—”

He claps me on the shoulder. “And I will.” He’s so much taller now. Stands a foot over me, a couple inches over Zack. “Just give me a minute to enjoy looking at your faces. I’ve missed them every day since I left.”

My reply is imprisoned under delicate tears, aching to be released. I step forward, slide my hands around his waist, bury my head in his shoulder. With an urgency to match my racing heart he wraps his arms around me and tugs me in tightly. “Em, how am I supposed to see your face like this?” Rogue says, a laugh in his voice, his grip comforting.

I laugh and it’s enough to release a single tear which streams down my cheek as I step back. Rogue spies the tear and swipes it away with his thumb. “Oh, stop that, would you, Em? Reunions are supposed to be happy.”

I nod, feeling small, like a child. His thumb still rests on my jaw. His eyes still rest on mine. “In the four years I’ve been gone, the gods made you more beautiful, didn’t they?”

I don’t respond. All my efforts work to force the knot out of my constricted throat.

“Why are you back after four years?” Zack asks, pulling Rogue’s attention away from me. We part, opening back into the three-person circle.

“Oh, Zachariah, again with the questions,” Rogue says, a laugh in his voice. “Can’t you see we’re having a moment?”

A trace of a smile edges Zack’s lips. Rogue was the only one who could make him a little less serious. His eyes flash on me, an unreadable expression in them, then they’re back on Rogue. “Why are you back?” Zack asks again. I know the wheels of his brain are working. He’s doing what he’s been taught: asking strategic questions, not just the curious ones.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll give you some answers. Not that one. But I’ll tell you a few things I know,” Rogue says, rubbing his temple.

“Why won’t you tell us everything?” I ask.

“Em, there are things you’re better off not knowing,” Rogue says, a haunting in his voice now.

“How can you dangle the presence of some troubling knowledge in front of us and then keep it a secret?” I ask.

“Because if I could unknow some things, I would. Why would I want my two favorite people to be troubled by knowledge they can’t erase or forget?” he says, a strange look in his eyes.

“Well, tell us what you will,” Zack encourages.

Rogue nods. “Em”—he turns to me—“you heard that baby in the lab, didn’t you?”

I nod.

“I thought so. That’s what had you sneaking around, wasn’t it?”

Zack whips in my direction, a punishing glare pinned on me. “You were sneaking around the lab? Are you trying to get yourself in trouble again?”

“Oh, let up on her,” Rogue says. “It’s how she found me. Anyway, my father has the labs experimenting on Middling children. Not just experimenting, but using them. The things he’s done—”

“Are to preserve our race,” Zack says, nodding. “I’m aware of this. He’s been using Middlings to fix the Defect crisis.”

“You knew about this?” I slap Zack on the arm and return the punishing look he just gave me.

“They’re helping you,” he says.

“Oh no, Em,” Rogue says, pushing his hair off his forehead. “They put you on the Defect list?”

I scrunch up my face in confusion. “Put? What does that mean?”

He waves me off. “Nothing, you misunderstand.”

“So you left because they’re using Middlings?” Zack asks.

“I left for that reason and more.”

“Look, I get that your father is a demanding man,” Zack says, “but did you have to leave?”

I remember the bruises Rogue used to hide. The way he always kept his face light when I asked him about returning home after curfew. “No biggie,” he’d say, but I always spied the pain below his mask.

“I had to leave,” he says and backs up. “It was the only way for me.”

“Your gift? Is it still gone?” Zack asks, stepping forward.

Rogue was the first Defect. Since he’s a little older than me, by several months, I hadn’t been classified yet. That was the hardest year I ever remember. I lost one of my best friends and became a Defect.

He smiles, a triumphant look in his eyes. “Oh no, my gift has come.”

“That’s great, man,” Zack says. “What is it?”

“Well, you, my brother, as a telekinetic may be able to move things with your mind, but can you do this?” Out of the humid air a single mauve dahlia pops into Rogue’s hand. They only grow in one place in town, around the first duck pond at the entrance of the park. “I have the gift of apportation.”

“Wait,” Zack says, taking the flower from Rogue. Inspecting it. “You transported that, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Rogue smiles broadly. “I pulled it through the window, so to speak. I have to be relatively close and know exactly where the object is, but I can manifest anything of moderate size into the palm of my hand. Neat, huh?”

Zack slides his hand over his smoothed back hair. “That’s incredible. There’s no recorded history of an apportational in the Reverian society. You’re the first.”

“Well, since I’m supposedly dead, don’t go off bragging, would you?”

“How long are you staying?” I ask.

“Not sure yet,” Rogue says, turning his too alluring eyes directly on me. “Depends on how long it takes.”

“Takes to do what?”

“Nice try,” he says, shaking his head.

Zack steps up close to Rogue, tilts his head back and forth, inspecting him. “You know, besides needing a clean shave, you look pretty good.”

“Oh, come on,” Rogue says, brandishing a giant smile, his teeth perfect on the top and perfectly crooked on the bottom. “I look great, brother,” he says, slapping Zack on the shoulder.

Chapter Seven

“You called for me, Mother?” I say, standing up tall, chin held high.

She nods, stands from the Victorian couch in the sitting room, and waves her hand in a presenting manner at the man standing next to her. He’s a stranger. It is rare to find one of those in Austin Valley. “Yes, I’d like you to meet who President Vider hired to do skills evaluations on all Defects.” The man beside her has spiky red hair, a similar shade as my mother’s. He looks to be in his mid-forties, and by the style of his dark green suit, he definitely isn’t a Reverian. Another clue is that he has a pointy red goatee and all Dream Traveler Reverians are required to be clean shaven.

“Name’s Ren,” he says, not extending a hand to me.

“Hello,” I say with a small curtsy. “Nice to meet you. I’m Em.”

“Oh, so you didn’t name her after Mummy,” he says to my mother, his words coated in a British accent.

She rolls her eyes. A strange gesture for her to do to someone who isn’t one of her children. “Shut up, Ren. You know I’d never do something so sentimental and downright repulsive.”

“No, Lyza, you’d have to have a heart to do that, and we both know you don’t,” he says to my mother, a smug look on his face.

“A heart pumps blood. I obviously have one of those,” she says, smoothing back a strand of hair into her tight bun. “What I don’t have is this useless capacity for caring.”

“Always the literal one, aren’t you?” Ren says.

“This man, Ren, happens to also be my brother,” my mother says, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.

“Happens?” he says, actually looking amused. “Like it’s one big happenstance that we were born from the same parents?”

“What I mean is that the person who was hired by the President just happens to be related to me,” my mother says, cinching her arms across her chest.

I didn’t know my mother had a brother. Never met her parents. She doesn’t talk to us about them. About anything really. “Why does he have an accent and you don’t?” I finally say, breaking the staring contest between them.

Mother sighs loudly. “Because my brother doesn’t subscribe to the fact that accents lead to labeling and the best way to gain advantage is to have nothing marking you with where you’re from,” she says with her typical perfect diction.

“So we’re British?” I ask, confused.

“No, we are Reverians.”

A loud, thick yawn echoes from Ren. “Although this family reunion is incredibly touching, can we get to the reason I’m here, which isn’t to exchange stories of what we’ve been doing for the last twenty years?”

I step forward, studying the man in front of me. Disbelief and curiosity take turns overwhelming my thoughts. “Wait, you’re my uncle?”

“Don’t call me that,” Ren says, looking disgusted. “And yes, technically I am. I don’t send Christmas presents, don’t care about your grades, and I don’t give piggyback rides.”

“We don’t celebrate Christmas,” is all I say. I’d heard about this weird tradition from a new Middling who had started working at the Agricultural Center.

“No, I remember now my dear sister belongs to the Reverians’ religion, which is based on myths that are likened to unicorns. Do yourself a favor, luv, and pick up a world religion book. It will blow your mind. Although, come to think about it, diverse texts are probably banned here,” Ren says.

My mother throws a seething glance at her brother. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, have you, Ren?”

“Oh yes, I’m just as delightful as ever,” he says.

“Which is why you’re still alone, hopping from job to job, society to society, is that right?” my mother says.

“Being alone is a choice, dear Lyza. Some of us don’t need the money and prestige of a significant other. Some of us make our own way in the world, but you wouldn’t know about that, would you? How long has it been since you ventured out of this valley? Really ventured out, on your own, not some organized dream travel field trip managed and supervised by the Reverians?”

“I still fail to see why President Vider hired you for this job,” she says, her anger flaring in every word. I’ve hardly ever seen her this flustered, my mother, the queen of pretense.

“It’s simple, little Lyzie. I’m the best. And he knows it.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” she says, her voice an octave under yelling.

“Oh, you don’t love my little nickname for you anymore, do you?”

“You know I never liked it,” she says, her expression pinched.

“I most likely won’t remember your preferences on the name calling, so don’t be offended when I call you it again. Or do. Doesn’t really matter to me,” Ren says, a hint of pleasure in his voice.

“Oh, just do what you were brought here for,” my mother says, sweeping past me, pulling the double doors closed behind her.

I turn and look at Ren directly. Menacing isn’t exactly the right word for him. He’s that, but he’s also thoughtful in his approach. Theatrical. And he does something most of the people I know don’t: he says exactly what he wants.

He eyes me like I’m a dirty puddle he’s trying to figure out how to cross. “Oh, why can’t I get away from teenagers? I bloody hate teenagers.”

“Well, I’m mature for my age,” I say.

“That makes one of us. So you’re one of the Defects. Interesting thing that’s happened in this valley. Note to self, don’t drink the water here,” he says.

“Do you think you can help us? That’s why you’re here, right?”

He takes a seat in the armchair and indicates I should take a seat on the couch opposite him. When I’m settled he gives me something that almost classifies as a smile. “No, I’m not here to help you get your gift. I’m here to assess you and give a report. What valuable information I provide may or may not help. Who knows, really?”

I deflate with a sigh. “Well, when you say this is happening in this valley, do you mean it isn’t happening elsewhere?”

A small smile quirks up the corner of his mouth. “As sheltered as your mother, aren’t you, poor dear?”

I only stare back at him, his dark green eyes like that of St. Augustine grass.

“No,” he finally says. “This epidemic appears to be confined to this valley, as far as I can tell.”

“Are you religious?”

“What an abrupt and personal question,” he says, shaking his head at me.

“Well, you don’t have to answer it,” I say, feeling sudden embarrassment burn my insides.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Do you think the gods are punishing us?”

“To be quite honest, I don’t think the gods or God or any other holy entity gives two cents about us,” he says.

“You’re the angry type, aren’t you?”

“You’re the honest type, aren’t you?”

I shrug.

“All righty, missy, let’s get down to business. Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Got it?”

I nod.

“Oh good, it gives brief responses. That will help.” Ren leans back, crosses his ankle over his knee, and stares at the ceiling casually. “Do you hear voices?” he asks.

“No.”

“Do you see things which aren’t real?” he asks.

“No.”

“Get flashes?”

“No.”

“Control people with your mind?”

“No,” I say again.

“Have objects moved mysteriously around you?”

“No.”

“You really aren’t much fun at all, are you?” he says.

I squint at him. “I’m loads of fun.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you think so.”

I shake my head at him. I’ve never met someone with his audacity.

“All right, you failed that phase of testing and have graduated to the next loser round,” he says.

“I’m not a loser.”

“No, no, of course you’re not,” he says dismissively. He slips a device the size of the palm of his hand out of his inside jacket pocket. With a switch the device makes a low buzz.

“What’s that?”

“A frequency recorder. It’s science.” He says it like it’s a dirty thing. “And it’s an upgraded model so I’m probably getting all sorts of radiation.”

“Why are you using it then?”

“Well, the daft scientist who gave it to me is probably right that it will make the assessments I have to do a whole lot easier.” He pauses and only stares at me for a few seconds, an intensity in his eyes. “Did you get that message I just sent you?”

“What?” I say, dumbfounded.

“The telepathic message I just sent you. Did you hear it in your head?”

“No.”

Ren slips a gold ring off his finger. It’s clunky. Lays it on the table next to him. “Can you move that with your mind?” he asks, his voice flat.

I stare at it for over a minute. “No.”

He eyes the device and then slides it back into his pocket.

“Did you really think under these stressful circumstances I’m suddenly going to use my hidden gift for a stranger?” I ask.

“I knew for a fact you wouldn’t be able to. I’m studying your approach,” he says, slipping his ring back on. “And in my extremely intelligent opinion there’s no chance your gift is going to surface. What I don’t get is why you appear to have the instinct but there’s no power behind it.”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes. Takes an impatient breath. “Dream Travelers have a certain level of frequency they exude when using their powers, but yours is on par with a Middling.”

“What?” I say again. “That’s bizarre.”

“No, let’s be honest. It’s sad.” He sits forward and looks at me sideways. “Tell me, have you suffered any traumas?”

“No.”

“Depressed?”

“No.”

“Suicidal thoughts?”

“Gods no.”

“Well, I’m momentarily stumped, but if it makes you feel better you’re exactly like all the Defects I’ve assessed. At least you have people to share your woes with,” he says.

“Do you think upping the injections will help?”

“Injections?” he asks, confusion suddenly covering his features.

“The meds they’ve been giving us,” I say.

“Oh yes, I heard about those. Medical science isn’t my forte, thank god,” he says, looking repulsed. “I don’t know if these meds can help, but if I become extremely bored toddling around this place I might look into it.”

“What am I supposed to do until then?”

“I don’t know, you can play hopscotch for all I bloody care. That’s none of my concern,” he says, looking tired. “I’m only supposed to assess you and a few other snots and report if any gifts surface. Right now my job is easy. You’re all appropriately named. Defects.”

I stay seated as he makes for the door. He turns just before he leaves. “So, what’s Em short for?”

My brow knits with momentary confusion. “Nothing. I’m just Em.”

“Really?” he says, an unconvinced tone in his voice. “Your mother’s not the type to name someone ‘just Em.’”

“What does that mean?” I say.

“Bloody hell if I know, but it sure is curious.”

Chapter Eight

My favorite night of the week. Thursday. The night I don’t have to wear the clunky sleep cuff on my wrist all night. I don’t have to fall into dream-filled sleep. I’m allowed to do what I was born to do: dream travel.

A blanket of wind strokes my face as I slip into the silver tunnel, the transport to the other dimension. Of course, every sensation is a purely cognitive one, since my body comfortably rests in my bed while my subconscious soars through space on its way to the set meeting place. Whatever happens to me in dream travel, however, will mark my physical body.

Rapid, automatic turns in the wormhole catch my breath. It’s always amazed me that the gods instilled a silent knowledge within Dream Travelers which allows us to navigate to any place and time by only thinking of it. And without fail my subconscious pops me out of the tunnel and into the location I intended.

Helen, the coordinator for dream travel events, stands at the entrance to Carnegie Hall with her usual clipboard.

“Em Fuller,” she says, checking off my name as I approach her. The foyer is full of Dream Traveler Reverians, and with a quick glance at her clipboard I confirm what I feared: I’m one of the last to arrive. “You’re in the Zankel Hall tonight, with most of the other adolescents,” she says, words crisp and precise.

I nod, staring momentarily at her white curls which are all uniform, making a flawless beehive. I’ve always wondered how long it took the Middling who styles her hair to achieve such perfection.

“Thank you,” I say and pull open the brass door. My eyes are swept up to the gold and white arched ceiling. It’s so bright and soft, reminding me of sunlight. Under my feet green marble stretches the length of the foyer.

His impatient sigh freezes me. Tentatively I bring my eyes up to find my father, arms crossed, feet apart, standing squarely in the hallway, a look of utter annoyance on his face. “Hello, Father,” I say with a slight curtsy.

“Em, what are most of the Reverians here doing right now?”

Past him I watch people file in the direction of their assigned halls. Most probably want to get a good seat.

“Attending this week’s lecture,” I say, unable to meet his stern blue eyes.

“Does anyone look to be studying the architecture of Carnegie Hall?” he says.

I pretend to watch the people moving with purpose behind him. “No, Father. They all appear intent on getting to their seat.”

“And aren’t you?”

My eyes fall to his polished black shoes. I hate how subservient he makes me. Hate it. “I am,” I say with half my voice.

“You’re privileged to have President Vider as your speaker tonight. It disappoints me that you’re not the first one in your hall, ready to absorb all the wisdom you could learn from him.”

I raise my head and find the courage to look at my father directly. “Oh, I’m certain there’s a great deal I could learn from him,” I say, thinking of Rogue and the secrets I know he’s hiding that are connected to the President.

My father jerks his chin down, his forehead and angry eyes pinned on me. “Em, what was that thought you just had about Rogue Vider?”

Terror sends a shiver down my neck and chest, emptying me of all breath. My teeth suddenly chatter and I know by my father’s expression that he’s spied my nervousness. I will my eyes to blink. I will my shoulders to loosen. I will my breath to return to my body. How could I have let my anger overwhelm me so much to drop my defense against my father’s telepathy? I know better. Tutu taught me how to direct my thoughts when in his company and still I’ve failed at a crucial time.

I suck in an unsteady breath. “I still miss him, that’s all,” I say, the quiver in my voice obvious. “The mention of his father brought back a rush of memories. It was quite unexpected for me actually. I haven’t thought of Rogue in so long, but still—”

“Allowing your thoughts to be occupied by someone who’s dead is beyond ridiculous,” my father says with a disapproving sneer. “Again it appears that many of your shortcomings are the result of bad decisions. Focus on yourself, Em. Not others. We are the best when we serve others by serving ourselves.”

“Yes, Father,” I say, my nerves still vibrating up and down my chest, making my heartbeat unsteady.

“Now, get out of my sight and don’t embarrass me in front of President Vider.”

“Yes, Father,” I say, rushing past him, catching the hint of the musty cologne he’s worn for as long as I can remember.

I slide into Zankel Hall. The lights over the podium in the middle of the stage are still dim. Thank the gods I’m not late. The auditorium is full. Most of my peers are here. The other two halls probably house most of the other adult Dream Travelers. Our population has remained modest enough that we usually fit inside most venues for our lectures.

I’m halfway down the aisle when a hand reaches out and grabs my wrist. Still unnerved by my encounter with my father, I jump and almost yelp. Zack gives me a curious look from his seat, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist.

“I saved you a seat,” he whispers.

I nod, one of relief. “Right. Thanks,” I say, scooching around his long legs and to the seat on his other side. “Good thinking getting an aisle seat,” I whisper at his shoulder.

He’s staring straight ahead, but a smile graces his lips. “Knew you’d be late and I’d have to pull you in.”

“I bet you get tired of rescuing me,” I say, watching his face. Watching for a hint of expression.

“Are you trying to goad me into saying that I enjoy rescuing you?” he says, eyes still fixed on the stage, attention at the ready.

I slide down in my seat. “I’d never expect you to say something so absurd.” I might wish, but... From my slouched position, I lean over closer to Zack’s shoulder, my face almost touching his starched jacket sleeve. “So, pretty amazing about you-know-who…”

He closes his eyes. Shakes his head. “I don’t think we should talk about that here,” he says from the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I haven’t seen you since then, so excuse me for taking the first opportunity I had,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.

Zack finally turns and looks at me. As usual his hair is parted on the side, slicked back—the hairstyle all men wear in our culture. He wears it best. “I came by last night to see you, but you were in a meeting.”

“Yeah, being a Defect keeps me awfully busy,” I say. “Met with the new Skills Assessor.”

He gives a defeated sigh. “Well, Dee answered the door. She ordered me to take her to the summer solstice ball.”

My initial reaction, a yelp of horror, is quickly masked by a fake laugh, which is too embarrassingly loud. As a result I receive a dozen angry glances from the silent crowd in front of me.

“Em…” Zack says, a pleading in his voice.

“Sorry,” I say, my face burning hot with humiliation and then something else. Jealously, I think.

“No you’re not. You think this is entertaining.”

“No, I think it’s disgusting and also absolutely not any of my business. And besides, my father thinks you two make a smart match. Isn’t that what you want? To please my father? Mr. Chief of Staff?” I say in a dull voice.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Most of the guys are drawn to her. Why not you too?”

“She’s just not who I want,” he says, again staring at the stage with deliberate force.

“Well, you can’t marry your dream job. But you can marry to get that job,” I say, punching him in the arm.

He grabs my hand as it connects with his arm and pushes it away. “That’s what you think I want?”

I shrug, a little put off by his bad attitude tonight. “Of course I do.”

“Shhhh,” he says just as the lights dim overhead and a spotlight shines on the podium.

Chapter Nine

“Do you want to know what most Americans want?” President Vider says, launching into his speech quickly after his introduction. No one answers the question. “They want to be protected. Inside their homes they want the protection of walls, the comfort of electricity, the knowledge that a government will build their roads and educate their children. But they also want more. They want a superpower that can step in and save them. They want superheroes. People who can do for them what they can’t do for themselves. The America here, where I stand,” he says, pointing at the stage, his movements sharp, demanding, “it doesn’t work. It doesn’t give its people what they really want. The America inside our borders does. Don’t you see? We aren’t in America, it is in us. Austin Valley is the unofficial fifty-first state. The first republic under this nation to do right by the people. To give them what they want.”

President Vider steps away from the podium, and the red handkerchief tucked inside the breast pocket of his black pin-striped suit catches my attention. “What is our crime rate? Zero. What is our life expectancy? Decades past the average based on the races. What are our earnings? Double that of the average American. And why?” he asks, drawing out the last word, triumph prematurely creeping into his tone.

Again no one answers. President Vider walks to the end of the stage on my side of the hall. His black slicked back hair catches the spotlight as he walks. Rogue has his nose. His dark olive skin. His green eyes. His height. His arrogance. They both share that flare of Spanish descent, making them stand out in our mostly Caucasian population.

“We have built a system that works. One that draws upon the greatness of the Dream Traveler race and uses the excellent efforts of the Middlings. We’ve found a way to make the races work together for the betterment of society,” he says, his voice carrying with it an unmistakable draw. A persuasion hidden in each of his words, like a subliminal message. Every time I’ve been in his presence I’ve watched him hypnotize those around him with his words. Not me though. I’ve never trusted him. Never been able to stand his gaze lingering on me.

“Do you know that other Dream Travelers hide within the population? Pretend not to exist with their superiority? They suppress it. What good does that do anyone?” He shakes his head, mouth pinched. “Within our borders we are proud and the people who serve us know our capabilities. This makes them proud. And, in turn, we protect the Middlings, as the gods once told us was our role as the golden race. This role is one with a burden. One that carries a great weight. And only people with our talents can handle such a task.”

Around the room almost everyone is leaning forward. I jerk my eyes in Zack’s direction. He shares their same posture, hanging on the President’s every word. Etching it into his brain as scripture. I admit President Vider is compelling, more so than any other Reverian; even so, I’m not perched on the edge of my seat. For some reason his spell doesn’t completely work on me. As I scan Zankel Hall I silently wish it did. I wish I were more like my peers.

“I’ve known for quite some time that if we found a balance we would achieve greatness, and that time is drawing near. We are a small state in this nation. The smallest. But soon we can slowly start to open our borders to allow more Dream Travelers and Middlings to join our ranks. Now that we’ve proven we know how to effectively give people what they want, we can extend our flawless government to others,” the President says and on cue the entire auditorium erupts into applause. People are polite, only clapping for a few seconds, but it’s enough to unleash a sneer-like smile from President Vider.

“Since our society has existed, we have controlled parts of the national government, ensuring that we had the privacy and security to grow our state to the prosperous one that it is today. Our efforts have paid off. It is my hope that our state, our society, stay secret, but we build it with great diligence and strategic minds. That is what I call upon you for. I need people who recognize the supreme balance that creates empires and wants to build them. I need Dream Travelers who know they will be a wedge or a bolt in our empire, so that the people we support can stand firmly on top of the structure we erect.” Again applause, this time longer, more fervent.

When the crowd quiets down, the President raises his chin up high and points out to the crowd. “Who out there wants to implement a strategy that works? Who wants to extend our greatness to others? Who wants to achieve the mission of the gods? Those who do, please say ‘aye.’”

And in unison the entire crowd chimes a low chorus of “ayes.” Mine is short, almost inaudible.

Chapter Ten

I skip agriculture hours to do the only thing that’s even more satisfying. Hiking. After my dream travel last night I have a dozen thoughts needling under the surface of my brain, all of them unable to emerge completely, unable to give me a definitive path to follow. Therefore I elect to trek the paths on the hills surrounding Lidill Park. If I had the time I could take them all the way to Mount Austin.

Three miles into the hike a weight falls off my shoulders and I feel a slight release from all the strangeness that’s been surrounding my life lately. Being in the wilderness for an extended amount of time always frees me somehow. I giggle at a songbird who bounces from branch to branch, singing a tune to attract a mate. His incessant tweeting is strangely compelling, although bordering on annoying. That’s when an acorn drops on my shoulder. I jerk my head up. The sky is clearly visible overhead. I’m on a path not covered by the usual dense canopy of trees.

Before I can move, it happens again. This time a stone drops on the path in front of me. It’s round and flat, like one of the stones found in the stream down below. I stoop to pick it up. It’s still wet. What? Swinging around, I size up the forest. I’m alone…it appears. And then from nowhere a duckling, all fluffy and yellow, drops through the air and lands on the pine-covered ground a foot in front of me. I scream and stagger backward.

It takes me approximately three seconds to realize the duckling isn’t a monster. And still, ragged breaths heave through my chest from the surprise. I step forward and the creature, frightened by my reaction, scuttles further on the path. I turn to the seemingly empty forest. Plant my hands on my hips. “Rogue, you better get out here and send this duckling back to its mother.”

From a cluster of trees not ten feet away, I spy his almost black curls and then one eye peeks out from behind a birch. Even from just the one eye I know he’s wearing a giant grin.

“You might think it’s funny, but I bet that momma duck is worried to death,” I say, my heart still hammering from the scare.

He slides out completely from behind the tree, dismissing me with a shake of his head. In only a few graceful steps he walks past me, picks up the duckling, and instantly it disappears. Then he turns, trains a mischievous stare on me. “They have like a dozen babies. I’m sure she didn’t even notice,” he says.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I say, wanting to slap him. If he was Zack I probably would have already, but Zack would never do something like that.

“I was just playing with you,” he says, slipping his hands into his faded jean pockets.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since the other night, but I had to rush home before we had a chance to discuss future meetings.

“Oh, just hanging,” he says, his eyes finding a spot on the hill just above us. I follow his line of vision.

“You’re camping, aren’t you?”

“What are you listening to?” he says, indicating the buds in my ears. I actually hadn’t had my music on for the last mile, since I was enjoying the sounds of the woods.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

He tilts his head forward. “Wanna keep hiking? I’ll join you.”

I allow myself a full five seconds to take him in, to run my eyes over the person who shouldn’t be standing in front of me. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt over his jeans, two things that were outlawed for Dream Traveler Reverians to wear years ago. Again I note how different he looks from how I remember him. He’s rugged now. The other extreme to Dream Traveler Reverians who are all lean and polished in their overly starched suits. Rogue looks more like a Middling Reverian now. That alone would send his father into a raging fit. “Yeah, sure.”

I tuck my earbuds in my pocket and take off down the path, hugging the edge to give him room to walk beside me. “Where have you been all these years?” I finally ask. My eyes flick up to catch a smirk spring to his mouth.

“All over. Tokyo, Fiji, Serbia. It’s amazing to be able to dream travel freely.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know,” I say. “We’re still only allowed to dream travel one night a week for less than an hour, always with a set destination and a curriculum. And we’re never allowed to time travel.”

He cuts his eyes at me, nods. “I remember. However, dream traveling into the past is cool but you’re not missing much.”

“Yeah, just centuries of history,” I say, sarcastically.

“Well, I was trying to make you feel better.”

“Nice try. So you’ve just been dream traveling?” I ask. “Where do you live?”

He angles his head at the western mountain. “A day’s ride that way.”

“Ride?”

“By horse,” he says.

“You have a horse?”

“A few, actually.”

“Wait, you have horses?” I ask in complete disbelief. This information challenges everything I’ve ever known about Rogue. About anyone from Austin Valley. “Why do you have horses? To travel?”

“Yes, but they’re also work horses. I’m strong,” he says, flexing his bicep. “But I can’t build a house by myself.”

“Hold on a second,” I say. “You built a house? You’re joking.”

“Nope, I’m serious.” He shakes his head, pride in his eyes. “You’d love it. It’s off the grid and it’s simple, but has craftsmanship to inspire.”

“How did you get the resources to do all that?”

“I borrow money from the bank,” he says with a wink.

“Rogue!” I stop and actually slap him across the arm now. “You’re stealing!”

He tilts his head at me and gives a defiant look. “I’m borrowing,” he corrects.

I purse my lips and hold his stare. His eyes, along with the rest of him, have matured. There’s a loneliness in them which I don’t remember. Rogue was never the lonely type; he was popular, declining tons of social invites just to skip rocks with Zack and me. And I always suspected that people wanted to be around him because of his charm and not just because his father was President.

“So you built a house and have horses?” I say almost to myself. I think my head is close to exploding. Dream Traveler Reverians aren’t people who own horses and build houses. That’s what Middlings do.

“I’ve also got goats, two dogs, a mess of cats, and a cow. I need some chickens though.”

“What?” I say, still disbelieving this all. “Why do you have animals?” My brain can hardly fathom an individual having animals. We have them here in the Valley, but the ranch serves the whole town. There are a few dozen Middlings who care for those animals. The idea that Rogue alone has animals, well, it’s as hard of an idea for me to digest as him building a house with his two hands.

“Em, you need animals to live off the grid.”

“Well, why do you live off the grid? Why don’t you live in a town?”

He shrugs. “There’s something satisfying to living the way I do. An independence I crave, that I didn’t have before I left.”

“So if you live a day’s ride that way,” I say, pointing to the west, “then that’s like what, fifty miles?”

He shrugs. Nods. “Probably.”

“You’ve lived that close for so long? Why?”

“I wasn’t always, but after I left I soon realized I had to stay close. I need certain supplies I can only get here.”

“So you’ve been back before?”

“Oh yeah, dozens of times.”

“And no one’s ever seen you?”

“Nope. I’m sneaky.” His smile is like a beat in the song I’d been listening to earlier. Compelling. Alluring.

“And you couldn’t sneak over and find me and tell me you weren’t dead?” I say, less angry and more frustrated by him and his secrets.

“What are you listening to?” he asks again, pointing to my iPod, ignoring my question.

I narrow my eyes at him. He’s always been a master at avoiding my questions when he wanted to. I shrug. Resign a little. “The usual.”

“You forget I don’t know you anymore.”

I think about how since before I could walk I’d spent most of my free time with Rogue and Zack. It was a political move on my father’s part. He was trying to strengthen ties with the President through family relationships. It wasn’t long after my second birthday that my father was promoted to Chief of Staff and Zack’s father to Treasurer. But still Rogue’s more a part of my childhood than almost anyone else. “You know me well enough,” I say, a strange nostalgia making the words hard to get out. “I’m listening to indie folk.”

“Oh, that’s your usual, is it?” he says with a clever grin.

I stop, take a single earbud and hand it to him. I take the other and slip it into my ear. Then I play the song I’ve had on replay lately: “3 Rounds and a Sound” by Blind Pilot. His eyes swivel on me when the guitar starts. He’s watching me with a strange curiosity. It’s hard to know someone so well and then meet them for the first time in their new life. That’s what it feels like to be with him now. Like we’ve been given a new life, but it doesn’t entirely belong to us. Just as the chorus starts I realize I’ve been staring at Rogue without interruption for too long. The smile he gives me ensures he’s spied my nervousness. He untucks the bud from his ear and hands it to me. I expect him to say something about the song’s haunting words. About the singer’s incredible voice.

“Gods, you’ve changed,” he says, shaking his head. There’s a mesmerized expression in his green eyes and as much as I want to look away from them, I can’t.

“So have you,” I say, unable to keep offense out of my voice. Rogue’s presence makes me simultaneously elated and angry. To look at him alive and changed challenges every part of my brain.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Rogue says, in a soothing voice. “It’s just that you’re exactly as I remembered and then also better. Didn’t think that was possible.”

He used to tell me he favored me over Zack, but I half suspect he said the same to Zack sometimes. I wonder if this is part of that same game. I’m not in the mood for games.

Below his expression of curiosity there’s a secret in his eyes, like he just figured out something about me. He smirks and then his face shifts, like a new thought just occurred to him. He’s a changing storm. “Remember that time we were playing in that old tree and you fell out and broke your ankle and I had to carry you back?”

I laugh, the memory washing over me, bringing with it sounds and smells. “I thought your father was going to kill you.”

“The week of night terror punishment almost did,” he says too lightly.

“It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have been punished.”

“Oh well,” he says, waving his hand, dismissing my sympathy. “Em, you ever play with girls or just troublemaking boys?”

“Zack is the furthest person from a troublemaker.”

“True,” he says, nodding his head. “You and Zack ever...?”

“Ever what?”

He pulls in a long breath and appears suddenly nervous. “Ever more than friends?”

“Oh no, I’m not certain he even knows I’m a girl,” I say and laugh to cover up my blush.

“He’d have to be blind and stupid not to, Em.”

“Zack is my best friend.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know you’re a girl.”

“Well, I don’t think he sees me as a romantic prospect,” I say.

“Do you want him to?”

This conversation just took a turn I’m not sure how to manage. I shrug, thinking about the pathetic union Dee’s been trying to make with him. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, I think it’s fair to say that Zack and I see you differently,” Rogue says, an adorably handsome coy look on his face.

I’m unable to meet his eyes, so instead I pick up my pace, intent on reaching the first ridge before daybreak. “Yeah, so to answer your question, besides from Zack, I spend most of my time with Nona. She’s a girl,” I point out. “And not that much of a troublemaker.”

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t flaunt a brilliant smile. Just keeps hiking, keeping pace with me easily.

“I’ve missed you, Em,” he says, breaking the silence finally. He gives me a tender smile.

Missed isn’t even the right word for it. I felt like someone cut off one of my appendages when Rogue disappeared. I don’t respond. He’s got to read the look in my eyes. Has to. He has to know from the overwhelming raw emotions in my eyes that without me saying it, I’ve missed him like crazy. I hope he does.

“How is Nona?” he says, kicking a patch of bark out of the path.

“Good,” I say with a genuine smile. “Indescribably she’s the best part of our family and also underappreciated in every way.”

“I’ve also missed the way you talk. You take simple phrases and make them perfect.”

I don’t return his smile.

“Nona started treatments last week. It’s hard to watch her deal with the pain but unfortunately it turns out she’s a Defect.”

“No, Em, no,” Rogue says, stopping, grabbing my arm. He shakes his head, bitterness in his eyes.

“What, Rogue?”

“Nothing.”

“Rogue, this isn’t right. You disappeared and made everyone think you were dead. And now you’re back, lacking any remorse and unwilling to disclose some pretty important information, like why you’re here, why you left, and what you know.” I’m standing, shaking.

“I shouldn’t be talking to you. I just needed to slip in and out. I shouldn’t have grabbed you. You’re not supposed to know about me, no one is. You’re better off not knowing,” Rogue says.

“You think I’m going to walk away now? Let it go? Pretend like you don’t exist? I already lost you once. Why are you doing this? Just stop being you for one second and be a little less stubborn.”

“If you don’t shut up right now I’m going to kiss you,” he threatens with a sheepish smile.

The laugh that falls out of my mouth surprises me. It instantly dissipates the anger building. Rogue laughs too.

“Gods above, I haven’t heard that...well, since the last time you said it to me,” I say, still laughing. Rogue always won all battles because he’d threaten me with a sloppy kiss. Since boys were awesome but disgusting it was the worst punishment I could consider. I laugh again thinking of the girl who used to pretend to gag when Rogue threatened to kiss her.

“I don’t think that’s going to work anymore, Rogue.”

“Oh, not so deterred by that threat, huh? I have my damn good looks to blame,” he says, shaking his head with a smile plastered across his face. “But I’ll have you know, I’m an awful kisser.”

“Nice try, but all your tactics haven’t distracted me from the heart of this matter. Tell me something, like why you’re back.”

“I won’t tell you that ’cause it’s not real important.”

“Then tell me something else,” I say.

He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. Inside he’s battling something. His lips press together, seeming to bolt away the secrets he harbors. But I’m a pirate who won’t be deterred.

“I know they’re hiding something,” I say. “I snuck into my father’s office looking for information.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, looking impressed. “I would say you’re ballsy but that isn’t quite the appropriate label for you.”

“I know they’re hiding something and I think you know what it is. And I want you to tell me.”

“Em, you want me to tell you something even if you can’t do anything about it?”

“Who says I can’t do anything about it?”

He laughs. “Oh, I forgot you have the tenacity to change the rotation of the Earth.”

“Liar,” I fire back. “You didn’t forget that about me.” I smirk. “Now tell me what you know.”

“Even if it has the potential to burst the perfect bubble you live in here in Austin Valley?”

“Who said it was perfect?”

“Fine,” he says, his voice resigned, but his eyes holding defiance. He rubs his fingers over the stubble on his chin and sighs. “The injections…” he says, pauses, holds my expectant gaze.

“Yes?” I encourage.

“Well, they don’t help.”

Chapter Eleven

“What?” I ask Rogue. Disbelief is the first emotion to seize my thoughts. “If they don’t help then why do they give them to the Defects?”

He shakes his head, a brutal look in his eyes. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”

“Okay, fine. But Rogue, I already knew the injections weren’t working. That’s why they increased my dosage. And they keep tweaking the formula to get it right.”

“No, they increased your dosage because I bet they fear you’re developing a tolerance,” he says.

“What? Who exactly are you talking about? Who increased my dosage?”

“My father.” He pauses, gives me a guarded expression. “His cabinet.”

“What? That means my father...”

“Yeah, he’s involved.” he says, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

My thoughts are suddenly clouded. Shrouded in a tight-fitting net. But I asked for this information and I must stand up to it. I shake my head, dispelling the clouds within. “Rogue, what you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” I say, rejecting his claim, ignoring the ache in my throat. “The injections—”

“Are a suppressant. They suppress the part of the brain which harnesses Dream Travelers’ gifts.”

“But why would they do that? Why would they want to do that?”

The cold and honest expression on Rogue’s face makes the dread of what he’s about to say beat like a foreboding drum. “They don’t want you to have your gift.”

“Wait. You’re saying my father is responsible for the reason I don’t have my gift?”

He nods, an alarming sincerity in his eyes.

“My father…” I whisper, mostly to myself. And I know I knew it all along. Sensed it. But still, to know my father is hinged in this conspiracy is a shard of glass I’ve been forced to swallow. It’s lodged in my throat. And soon it will threaten to cut me from the inside out.

“Well, your father is no mastermind,” Rogue says, “but he’s an excellent puppet to my father. And they share the same vision, which is based on fear.”

“Of what? Teens who can see the future or read minds?” I almost laugh at the outrageousness of this all. “That’s ridiculous.”

“They’re afraid of losing control.”

“But not everyone’s on the Defect list. It doesn’t make sense why only some of us would be stripped of our gifts. Zack and Dee aren’t Defects.”

Rogue nods his head, understanding. “That’s because those on the Defect list are kids who have shown from an early age a tendency toward rebellious thinking.”

“Oh,” I say in a hush. I scan through the Defect list in my head. Every single person meets that criterion. And as much as my logical brain is trying to tear it to pieces, find the holes, there are none yet. What Rogue says makes perfect sense. And that means… I feel the strain on my face as the implications fill in. How long have my parents berated me for not being normal like them? And yet they did this to me. But why? Why did they make me a Defect? And now they’re doing it to Nona. I swallow down the shard of glass in my throat without concern as heat flares in my head. Rogue steps closer to me. Picks up my hand and holds it between both of his. It’s warm and covers my hands completely.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Rogue says in a soothing voice. “I remember when I found out how difficult it was.”

“That’s why you left,” I state, the realization dawning on me. And then another chilling thought hits me like a block of ice. “Rogue, you were the first. The first Defect—I’m mean, one on the list. Your father, he took away your gift,” I say and almost can’t believe the words as I say them. But they’re true and so is what President Vider did to his own son.

Rogue, to my astonishment, actually smiles. “He tried.” And in his hand, out of nowhere, my iPod appears. I slap my hand on my pocket where it was a second ago. It’s empty. I snatch the iPod from his hand, unable to resist smiling at his mischief. He’s the most rebellious person I’ve ever known. Of course his father would have been afraid of who he became.

“So what do I do now?” I ask.

He gives me a pained look, his smile falling away. “I already told you, there’s nothing you can do. You were given fair warning.”

“But I want my gift,” I say.

“The only way to get it is to stop the injections, and there’s no way to do that without being punished.”

“Unless I leave.”

“That’s not an easy thing to do,” he says.

“But I have to do something,” I say, almost exclaiming to the forest and birds. I begin pacing almost at once, stopping at an old madrone tree and then shuffling back the way I came. My thoughts race inside me as I make the third lap.

Finally Rogue reaches out and grabs my arm with a gentle pressure. I pause and bring my eyes up to his. The sober look on his face lays a new weight on my heart. “Em, you don’t have to do anything drastic. Just think on this. Because if you leave you can’t ever come back.”

I pin my hands on my hips and scowl at him. “Says the guy who left and is standing in front of me right now.”

Chapter Twelve

Maybe Rogue was right and I was better off not knowing the secrets he knew. Already the notion that our government experiments on Middling children has spun my moral compass out of control. Zack had said that these parents offered their children willingly and were compensated for their participation. That seemed like a good thing. But to experiment on children. And what they did to them was unclear.

But even if I didn’t know the truth now, I’d be in that perpetual state of sensing there was something nefarious. For months I’d been obsessed with figuring out what was “off” in our society. That torture may not be worse than knowing what my father has done to me, but at least now I know. I’m not ignorant. I’m not in a position where I’ll blindly allow myself to be manipulated. I’m a robot who has awoken to the realization that I’ve been damaged so I can’t perform, so I can’t take my rightful place within this society. And I don’t want to be damaged anymore.

The waiting room is full at the lab. I slide up against the wall far away from the swinging door so I don’t get hit when the next Def—Rebel enters. It’s going to be hard to reprogram my thoughts. To take out the messages of lack they instilled in me from an early age. But I will. I just can’t let anyone know I’m breaking out of the mold, especially my father.

Rogue told me not to do anything drastic. To think on this. My plan doesn’t involve anything radical. It’s downright sneaky, and if it works then I’ll be one step closer to figuring out this mess I was born into. To stopping it. But I fear the road to freedom is long. Actually, I know it is.

“Em Fuller,” Tammy says, not even opening the door more than a crack.

I catch it with my fingertips before she lets it slam shut. Already she’s hurrying down the stark white hallway, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. I jog to catch up with her. All the rooms are full again, I can tell by the folders hanging on the walls outside of them.

“Busy?” I say, arriving right behind Tammy.

“Oh gods, ‘busy’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she says, leading me to the back room of the labs again. I’ve had all my injections here since that first time. The door I snuck through has never been left open though. “Hopefully, they’ll be hiring more doctors and nurses to assist us soon,” Tammy says, out of breath. “We can’t keep going at this crazy pace.”

Busy is good. I’d planned for this. Hoped.

We’re almost to the lab door when I hear the quick steps behind me. I don’t allow my smile to surface. Pretend not to notice the intrusion which is about to occur.

“Em! Em!” Nona’s voice echoes down the hallway. I turn just before she halts next to me, almost knocking into my shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt,” my little sister says, pushing her sweaty bangs off her forehead. “It’s just that Father has an urgent message he needed me to pass along.”

“Nona,” I say, “is everything all right?”

“Yes.” She nods her head, her face beet red from running. “It’s just there’s something of a personal nature I need to pass along.”

“Have you had your injection today?” I say, feeling Tammy’s presence growing impatient behind me.

“No, but—”

I hold up my hand, silencing my sister, and turn to Tammy. “Can we have our injections in the same room, so that way my sister can relay this information from our father to me?”

Tammy doesn’t even stop to consider it. “Whatever,” she says, slipping my chart into the holder beside the door. “I’ll be back with your chart, Nona,” she says, rushing away. I knew she wouldn’t argue. Our father holds the clout of the President. A message from him would have to be delivered. And since we are a higher-class family who deserves privacy, Tammy is unlikely to speak about the matter to anyone else…except maybe to Parker.

Nona and I both clamber into the lab. Last night, I’d snuck into her room. I didn’t want to burden her with what I knew, but I also couldn’t keep it from her. I’m not sure how to keep her from getting her injections, from stopping the evil routine of suppression which has happened to us. But I know that if anyone can help me start a rebellion by learning more of the truth, it’s Nona. And she almost made me cry when she nodded, like a seasoned solider, after hearing what Rogue had told me. “What can I do to help?” she’d said at once.

“We have to start small,” I had replied. I wanted her to be the one to avoid the injections, but she refused.

“No, your powers will be stronger because you’re older,” she had said, shaking her head, her round cheeks glowing from the moonlight streaming in from her window. “And besides, you’re the one who does investigations and I’m the one who distracts. That’s how we always play this game.”

I couldn’t help smiling at her incredibly forgiving and adventuresome mind. When I began to suspect something wasn’t right in our government, Nona covered for me while I snooped. She never seemed flustered by the idea. And as soon as she learned that our own parents were behind it she just shrugged it off. “I never liked them much anyway,” she said, twirling her hair around her small fingers. “I don’t think Mother has looked at me directly in years. If it wasn’t for Tutu and you, I’d get no attention at all.”

“You know, Nona,” I told her as we sat knee to knee on her bed, “no one sees the lion either, until it’s about to feast on them.”

A satisfied smile sprang to her lips.

Neither one of us slept well last night, too consumed with this plan. Multiple times my sleep cuff alarm sounded to warn me that I was being reported to the sleep commission.

Now we are sitting in the back room of the lab, silently waiting for our cue. After less than a minute I hear Nona’s chart fall into the holder outside the door. Now I have to wait again until Tammy is down the hallway. I count to myself, a long five seconds. Then I slip the door open, reach my hand out, and pull out the thicker folder. My chart lies in my hands. With an urgency to match someone dismantling a bomb, I flip the chart to the empty page. I fill in the date and all the information, careful to match the handwriting of the prior entry. Continuously my eyes flick up to the door, hoping Parker doesn’t rush through ready to inject me with poison.

When I’m done I hand Nona the folder, a bit reluctantly. She slips it behind her waistband, careful to cover the top portion with her blouse and blazer. The smile she wields gives me the confidence which had recently dissipated.

“Don’t worry, Em. I got this.”

“I know you do.”

“Now get out of here.”

I don’t respond; instead, I open the door and hurry out. If they catch us now there are a dozen lies we can use, but most probably won’t work. Now our biggest hope is for me to get down the long hallway and to the exit. Thankfully it isn’t back through the waiting room, where Tammy is probably calling another batch of Rebels, as Nona and I’ve taken to calling them. We like the label much better than Defects. It fits us and gives us a purpose, not a complex like our former title.

When I push through the exit door the sunlight greets me like an old friend, glad to see me after a long ordeal. With hurried steps I clear the lot that divides the labs from a set of boutiques and artisan stores. Conscious not to appear suspicious, I walk casually, like I’m five minutes early to an appointment. I turn the first corner and halt. Not much occupies this area. A bike rack. A green patch of grass. A water fountain.

Ten minutes I stay hidden in plain sight, smiling casually at the people who hustle by on their way to the office or on their way home with fresh-baked goods from the Middling bakery. As if she is on her way to play in the fountain in the main plaza, my sister skips down the sidewalk. She pauses after passing me by a few meters and offers me a ridiculously adorable smile over her shoulder. “Well, are you coming? We’ve got to go do that thing, remember?”

Hesitantly I approach her, careful not to look too tense. “So?” The one word hangs in the air like it’s a long gigantic question.

“So…as we intended, it went perfectly. Without a hitch,” she says, threading her arm through mine. “So get that nervous look off your face and skip home with me. That’s what kids do in the summer, don’t you know?”

“I know,” I say, allowing myself to relax slightly. I can’t believe such a simple, yet chancy plan worked. Nona had been able to slip my chart, signed off by the doctor for this morning’s injection, into the “refile” stack on the receptionist’s desk. I’d seen Parker do it a thousand times with other patients’ charts and knew this was how their process worked. Now it appeared to the lab that I’d had my injection. I had been there. Been admitted. And my chart showed I’d received my injection by the doctor. Now all I had to do was pray that Tammy and Parker didn’t talk about it, that she didn’t mention Nona and I were both there, and that in his overworked state, Parker wouldn’t remember not giving me an injection this morning. There was a lot of hope riding on this, but it was worth it. I was already making progress. This is the first injection I’d missed in over three years. This was the first day of change.

Chapter Thirteen

Skipping this morning’s injection was only supposed to buy us some time. There’s no way I’ll be able to pull that off again and I’m not certain that I’ve been entirely successful. In order to avoid this afternoon’s injection Nona and I are going to have to work fast…and experiment.

Giorgio, our family’s chef, is at the market buying fresh ingredients for this evening’s meal. I know he always leaves for the errand midmorning, but since I’m never around the house during this time, I’m not certain when he returns. He won’t mind that Nona and I are scavenging through his kitchen. Most likely he’ll offer us a puff pastry and comment on how big we’re getting. But I’d prefer not to have to lie to him about what we’re doing in his kitchen, so we need to hurry before he returns.

“You check the pantry and I’ll look through the refrigerator,” I say to Nona as soon as I ensure we’re alone in the kitchen.

“Exactly what am I looking for?” Nona asks, tucking her head into the darkened pantry and squinting. She’s probably never been in the pantry before. Why would she? Giorgio has made all our meals and snacks since our first baby teeth pushed through. All we ever had to do was ring the bell and he’d trot through the swinging door, his grin wide and eyes bright. Maybe Middlings are naturally happier people. Or maybe my father drugs him, like he does us, but for different purposes.

I tap the light switch next to the pantry door and bright light fills the walk-in closet. “Look for hot spices. Something that will upset my stomach.”

Nona shrugs and begins pushing jars of spices around the shelves. “And what are you doing?”

“Creating something that will make me puke,” I say, pulling peanut butter, anchovy paste, and a jug of buttermilk from the refrigerator.

“Wait, but what if this mixture really messes you up?” Nona asks, plucking a jar full of something vibrantly red from the middle shelf.

“Whatever works,” I say, taking a dollop of peanut butter and stirring it into a glass of buttermilk.

I flushed my immune booster down the toilet this morning. Also something I’ve taken consistently for years and skipped today. I’ve always known that a patient can’t have the injections if they’re sick. That’s why they test our temperature before each injection. Actually, it’s rare for a Reverian to even be sick.

The aluminum tube is cold between my fingers as I squeeze a tablespoon of the anchovy paste into my concoction. The combination of smells almost has my stomach turning. Nona takes three pinches of cayenne pepper and deposits them into my glass, eyeing it like it’s toilet water.

“Maybe it won’t taste so bad,” she says, her voice light, but her face contorted with disgust.

“Oh, it’s going to taste rancid,” I say, pinching my nose and pressing the glass to my lips. I pause for too long, looking down at the orangey sludge I’m about to drink.

“Just gulp it down,” Nona says. “On the count of three, okay? One. Two. Th—”

“For the love of the gods, don’t drink that!”

I peel open one eye and then the other. Tutu stands just inside the kitchen, leaning on her cane, a look of amusement on her face.

“Tutu!” I say, looking from her to Nona, searching for an excuse. A lie. “I was just—”

“Dear child, I know what you’re doing,” she says, walking over to us, barely using the cane to support her. “Ronald filled me in entirely.”

“Oh,” I say, eyeing the glass and then her. She’s smirking at me, obviously entertained by catching me in the act.

“It’s just that I learned that the injections—”

She waves her hand at me; it’s withered in a glove of wrinkles. “I know about the injections. Ronald was spying on you a minute ago and also all night while you two girls plotted.”

I switch my gaze from her light blue eyes to Nona’s freckled face, which has gone white as a ghost.

“Then you know I have to do something,” I say, facing Tutu, who is almost a head shorter than me now.

“All I know is if you drink that”—Tutu indicates the glass still pinned between my fingers—“you’re going to have a fierce stomachache.”

“That will work,” I say, bringing the crystal glass to my lips again.

“And then Damien might suspect you’ve been drinking or doing drugs with Middlings,” she says, as though offering a hypothetical course of events.

I pause. Think it over and then bring the glass back close to my lips. If that’s all my father suspects and I still get dismissed from injections then it’s not so bad. “Yeah, but that would still work for my purposes.”

“Or…” Tutu draws out the word, hinging my attention on it, “he might think it was Giorgio’s cooking and terminate him.” She shrugs, her face giving a comical “who knows what will happen” expression.

A frustrated sigh falls out of me as I slam the glass on the marble countertop. “Well, I don’t want to risk that.”

“No, I suspected you wouldn’t,” she says, taking in a long breath like she’s enjoying this revolting moment.

I turn and stare at my tutu. “You know why I was going to the trouble?”

“I do.” She’s rubbing the raccoon head that is the handle on her cane.

“And I was able to avoid my first injection in years this morning,” I say.

“Congratulations.”

“I was hoping to keep it going.”

“I see that.”

My tutu and I have always spoken in abbreviated sentences, never needing to say more than the bare minimum. We’re quite efficient.

Tutu and I both watch wordlessly as Nona licks the spoon from the peanut butter jar and takes careful bites of it, chewing and swallowing, her mouth slowly getting stuck together in places. Finally Tutu says, “May I suggest a strategy that is mysterious and also not easily traceable?”

I angle my head sideways, staring at her with interest. “Go on.”

She scuttles forward. Extends her hand and gives me an encouraging look. Funny how this ninety-nine-year-old woman sometimes reminds me of the fairies in classical lore. She’s small and unsuspecting. And most people walk away from an encounter with her not realizing they’ve been “handled” until she disappears into the mist…or the eastern wing of our house, as it were for her.

I extend my hand under hers. She opens her fingers and something light touches my palm. When she pulls her hand away I spy a medium-sized capsule, gray and oblong, resting on the creases of my palm.

“Now, go ahead and take that if you dare,” she says. “You’ll have only one symptom, and alone it will be a conundrum, but enough to keep you home for the day.”

I eye the pill in my hand. It’s about the size of the immune booster I’m used to swallowing. If I thought I had a chance to consider whether to take it or not it’s defeated by the urgent manner in which Nona presses a freshly made glass of water into my hand.

“Go on, Em,” she urges, giving Tutu an excited smile.

I return it with my own nervous one and pop the pill into my mouth, swallowing it down with three large gulps of water.

“Good choice,” Tutu says, turning on her heels and shuffling back to the kitchen door. “I’ll call the labs and tell them you’ve got a fever.” She pauses at the door. Hardly turns to swivel her head over her shoulder. “Oh, and you may want to strip off that blazer and most of your other attire. You’re about to be roasting.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Well, well, well,” I say, looking Zack up and down. “I bet now that you’ve gotten a look at yourself in a tuxedo, you’re not going back to suits. And I also bet that getup is really uncomfortable and you love every minute of it.”

He scowls at me. “I don’t like being uncomfortable. I only like looking my best.”

“Is that why you hang out with me? Because I make you look better with my slouchy dress?” Zack actually looks quite handsome in the black tuxedo, but I wouldn’t dare tell him that.

He ignores me and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle his jacket. It isn’t my bed. The sheets on this guest bed are musty, most likely because we never have guests. Dee kicked me out of our room as soon as word spread that I was sick. Fevers are my new favorite thing. They get me out of gift-numbing injections and away from my demon sister. If I didn’t feel like my brain was currently frying from the heat then I’d want to keep the fever going.

“How did you get yourself sick?” Zack asks, looking sincerely concerned.

I give Zack a sly smile. “An ‘ancient artifact’ knew an old trick too strong to best the defenses of immune boosters.”

“Wait,” he says, looking startled. “You made yourself this way? Oh, Em.” He shakes his head, eyes closed.

“I had a good reason,” I say, pushing my covers down low, although Dr. Jahn told me people with fevers were apparently supposed to sweat them out. It’s my first. Tutu called the doctor at once and she rushed over. Dr. Jahn confirmed I had a 103 fever, no other symptoms, and it was probably just my body fighting off a virus which would pass in a day. From over the doctor’s shoulder I watched Tutu’s face grow with a mischievous pride at the news.

I’d been laid up in the unused bed most of the day with nothing to entertain me except a pile of books. Having Zack here is a real treat, especially because I can tell he’s dreading the summer solstice ball with my sister. I love to tease him when he’s already feeling defeated. It’s our thing. And the fact that I know he doesn’t want to be her escort to the ball makes the whole thing much easier to digest. He leans forward, voice low, a worried look on his face. “Do tell me, why would you want to be sick?”

“It’s the injections,” I say in a whisper. “But if I tell you what Rogue told me you have to be careful, especially around my father, who’s a vulture at stealing thoughts.”

“Wait, you saw Rogue? When?” As I suspected, he looks upset. Left out.

“I ran into him, so to speak,” I say, pushing the covers off entirely and curling my legs up underneath me.

He nods, this explanation seeming to make him feel slightly better. He flicks his eyes to the open door and then back to me. “Gods, I want to see him again,” he whispers.

“I know, it felt good, didn’t it?”

“No, it felt weird, like a ghost came back to life. I still don’t believe he’s alive, that’s why I want to see him again,” he says, sitting farther on my bed, taking up the place where my feet were a minute ago.

“Oh, that’s why,” I say dully.

“Em, of course I’ve missed him. I just think we need to be careful. He’s obviously in trouble.”

“I agree, which is why we’re going to figure out why and help him.”

“Em, I’m not—”

“And I’m in trouble too, Zack.”

He stops, examines me. Nods his head reluctantly. Rogue and my problems have always seemed to weigh heavier on Zack than us. “Yes, I’ll help.”

“Of course you will,” I say, pushing him with my toe. “You’re Zack Conerly, and saving misfits is what you do when you’re not training to run this ‘empire,’” I say, impersonating the President’s commanding tone.

He rolls his striking blue eyes, but still lets loose the tiniest of smiles.

“Meet me tomorrow afternoon in our old camp area before I have to go to the labs,” I say.

“No, but you’re sick. How can you go to the labs?”

“It will only last twenty-four hours,” I say, pouting my lip.

“You’re the only person in Austin Valley who wants to be sick,” he says.

“If you knew why then you’d understand. You’ll find out tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” he says, resignation in his eyes.

“All right, you better get out of here before Dee lights your coattails on fire.”

“Do I look all right?” he says, sitting up tall in his tuxedo, smoothing down his jacket.

“Just about.” I push forward on the bed and lean over to straighten his bowtie a little. “Now you’re perfect.”

A smile reaches all the way to his eyes. “Thanks, Em.”

A cough echoes from the doorway. My father’s way of commanding attention. Zack stands at once but doesn’t give the same flustered response that I do. He holds my father’s piercing stare. Smiles at him. “Good evening, Chief Fuller,” Zack says, bowing his head slightly.

“Hello, Father,” I say, fury flaring across my chest at the sight of one of the thieves who has stolen my gift. I’m careful to corral my thoughts back to the mundane so I don’t give my father any information.

“Mr. Conerly, do you think it is a good idea to expose yourself to Em when she’s in such a mysteriously sickly state?” My father wears a tuxedo too, a burgundy rose pinned to his left lapel. It gives him some much needed color, makes him almost seem soft.

“Chief Fuller, I understand your concern but my immune booster has never failed,” Zack says.

“Yes, mine either. Strange this has happened to you, Em,” he says, now studying me. “It’s probably those Middling farmers you choose to congregate with.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Father.”

“Well, Mr. Conerly, you shouldn’t keep my daughter Dee waiting,” my father says, angling sideways, showing Zack the path he intends him to take now.

“I hope I have not made her wait at all. I was merely checking on this misfit,” he says, ruffling my hair in that way like I’m his little sister.

My father shakes his head at me, disapproval evident in his look. “Get better, Em,” he says like it’s an order. “I want you back to normal routine immediately.”

“Farewell. I hope you have a nice night,” I say to the pair as they leave.

“I’m sure we will,” my father says without another look.

Chapter Fifteen

I tuck my head into the sitting room, thinking the guest I was told to meet with is a mistake. Browsing a map of Austin Valley on the wall, Ren stands with his hands behind his back. He’s wearing another odd suit, this one grayish silver, not tightly tailored like the ones men wear in Austin Valley. “Hello, Ren,” I say to get his attention.

He turns, looking irritated. Nods. “Hi,” he says without inflection.

“I don’t understand,” I say, taking a few steps into the room. “I have to meet with you today? But I have a fever.” I slept fitfully the whole night, but that was fine because when I awoke I still had a fever, although it had come down.

“I have a fever,” Ren says in a high-pitched squeal, mocking me. “And I have an ingrown toenail, but you don’t see me being a loaf.”

“It’s just that we weren’t scheduled to meet until next week.”

“That’s right. Very good with keeping up with your own schedule, but it’s changed. Damien, your father, has requested you have a midweek evaluation.”

“Because I’m sick…” I say mostly to myself.

“I don’t believe being sick will make a lick of difference. You’ll probably still flunk my assessment,” Ren says, removing that small box device from his inside pocket.

“Right,” I say, aware Ren is doing something at the drawing desk in the corner but unfocused on it. I ruminate and fume on how my father is continuously trying to oppress me to ensure that I don’t become a problem for him. How can such a powerful man be so scared of those much younger than him? And why? What do he and the President fear we’re going to do if we rebel?

Ren steps back from the desk and turns to me. “All right, I want you to focus on the contents of the drawer inside this desk. I’ve inserted objects you’re unfamiliar with. Can you sense what they are?”

I lower my chin until it’s close to an inch off my chest, stare at the drawer like it’s possible to see through the wood. Again and again I wait for something to spontaneously spring to my mind, an epiphany of sorts. Nothing happens. Luckily Ren isn’t watching my face grow redder from intense concentration; he’s eyeing the device in his hand.

“I don’t know,” I finally say.

Ren doesn’t give a response. He takes a step and removes an object from the drawer. I’ve never seen it before. It’s a gold coin and on it is a woman’s profile, a crown atop her head.

“Take this,” he says, depositing the coin into my hand. “Now tell me if you sense emotions, ideas, or anything of relevance from it. Anything at all?”

I clench the coin between my fingers and palm; it grows warm and sweaty in my feverish hands. I feel the contours of the figure on the coin, but that’s the only sense I get from it.

“Well?” he finally says, breaking into my meandering thoughts.

“Nothing,” I say, opening my hands and looking more closely at the coin. “What is this?”

He rolls his eyes and grabs it from my hand. “Crikey! It’s a pound. You’re more sheltered than I thought.”

“You have no idea,” I say.

Ren looks at the device briefly before slipping it back in his pocket. “I’m sure you’re baiting me, hoping I’ll ask in a sympathetic voice how you are sheltered. I won’t. I don’t care. I’m not your shrink, I’m the guy who was hired to report on how defunct you are within our race.”

“I didn’t want you to ask,” I say, responding in a common voice, one I don’t usually use with people of higher status. “I’m more or less letting internal banter slip out of my head. Let’s say it’s due to the fever.”

“Or maybe you’re going crazy,” Ren says with a grin, looking entertained. “It does run in the family, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“Tell me, does your mother still only have that lame gift where she reads fortunes in tea leaves or whatever it is?”

“She’s clairvoyant too,” I say.

Ren doesn’t respond, instead eyeing the carpet, something working in his brain.

“What’s your gift?” I ask, not caring if I’m interrupting his thoughts.

He lifts his gaze to me, a clever look in his green eyes. “I have many.”

“What are they? Can you show me?” I ask, strangely excited by the prospect.

“I’m not a circus act,” he says, sounding offended. “And I could show you but one of them might kill you, and you probably don’t want that, do you?”

I shake my head. “Are you clairvoyant, like my mother?”

“No,” he says, leaning against the desk. “What I can do makes her gifts look as lame as balancing a spoon on your nose.”

“Oh, gifts that are fantastic and lethal, huh? Now I definitely don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. Seriously,” I say.

Ren pushes off the desk and yawns. “So you may be interested to know your frequency actually measures up perfectly with a Dream Traveler’s now, one who’s performing using a cognitive skill.”

“What?” I say, struck by the abrupt delivery. “Like a gift? I’m showing signs of a gift?”

“No, gosh, why doesn’t anyone ever listen? Your frequency is matching up with that of someone demonstrating a gift. Maybe you’re going to get yours, or maybe it’s just a fluke. And maybe the fever has helped you.”

“Oh, it has…” I say, threading my fingertips together, satisfaction rising in my chest.

“Whatever,” Ren says, turning to leave.

“Wait!” I say when he’s at the door.

He turns and gives me an impatient stare. “Make it good.”

“You can’t report this finding,” I say.

He scrunches up his eyebrows and then turns and faces me directly. “I do believe you’ve gone completely batty from this so-called fever. Did you not hear me the first ten times I told you this was my job?”

“But they can’t know that I’m getting close to my gift.” My eyes dart to the clock on the wall. I have roughly two hours until I’ll be called in for injections since my fever is below midgrade. If I’m close enough to normal then they’ll dose me and this will all be over. All I have is this time to try and figure out who I am.

Ren studies me with a strange determination. “You know you and I aren’t pals or buddies, right? I’m not here to help you. I was hired to report if anything surfaced, not to lose brain cells listening to you spew banter from your sheltered brain.”

“Right,” I say, nodding. “We aren’t pals. And you should do your job. Just don’t report this for a couple of hours. It won’t make any difference to you and it will make all the difference to me.” Because as soon as they know I’m close to getting my gift they’ll intervene and I can’t have that when I’ve come this close.

“I don’t do favors,” he says.

“Right, only those who need things do favors,” I say, spewing one of my father’s famous lines. “And you obviously don’t need anything from me.”

“Right you are, missy,” Ren says, and then he flicks his eyes up over my shoulder. “What do you want?”

I turn to find my mother with her hands pinned on her hips, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I want a report. Has my daughter made any progress? Shown any signs of not being a complete shame to her family?”

I seethe, my head suddenly burning hotter. She dares to call me a shame when she’s made me this? Maybe she isn’t privy to what the injections do to me. Maybe… It’s a hope, but one I have little faith in. My mother has always looked at me like I’m an old piece of furniture in need of replacing.

“I don’t believe I report to you, Lyza,” Ren says, crossing his arms.

“Don’t play games with me,” my mother says, her voice climbing. “She’s my daughter. Tell me what I want to know.”

A slow smile stretches across Ren’s face. “I’m not playing games, but I think we both know if I wanted to I could play some nice ones on you. Just like old times, remember, Lyzie?”

“Don’t threaten me with your mind control and hypnotism. I’m not a child you can bully,” my mother says.

“Your gift is hypnotism?” I ask Ren, astonishment making my features go wide.

“Shut up, Em. This conversation doesn’t involve you,” my mother says, narrowing her eyes at me.

My eyes jerk to the floor. My hands squeeze together. “Yes, Mother,” I say, hating being scolded in front of Ren.

Ren clicks his tongue three times in disapproval. “Telling your daughter to shut up. That’s not very nice.”

“Stay out of my family affairs, Ren,” my mother snaps.

“Oh, that’s not going to happen since I do believe I’m a part of the family,” he says.

“Ren, you are not—”

“Our dear mummy would never have spoken to you that way,” Ren says, with a gloating look on his face.

My mother’s face is almost the same shade as her hair. It’s rare to see her so worked up and it’s taking everything I have to suppress the delight it gives me. “Don’t you talk to me about her!”

Ren smiles coolly. Looks extra pleased with himself. “You really still hate her, don’t you? And all because—”

“Shut up, Ren!” my mother yells again. I’ve never heard her so out of control, her voice not poised.

Ren pauses. Smiles again. This one is subtle. “All because—”

“Get out of here, Em.”

I nod and turn for the door.

“All because she’s a Middling,” Ren says in a rush.

I whip around and stare at my mother, who’s wearing a look of horror. Ren’s eyes are on me, a mischievous grin on his face. He rocks forward on his toes and then back on his heels a few times. “That’s right, luv, your grandmother was a Middling. Surprise.”

“REN!” my mother nearly screams through clenched teeth. “You have no right to—”

“The look on Em’s face confirms my suspicions,” he interrupts. “She doesn’t know. I bet no one knows you’re a half-blood, do they, Lyzie?”

I’m not sure where I get the gall, maybe from Ren’s display, but the words rush out of my mouth. “So I’m not a pure-blooded Dream Traveler?”

My mother turns on me. She whips her hand high in the air, a mean icy threat in her face like she’s seconds away from slapping me. It pauses in the air. She’s shaking. “You do not breathe a word of this to your father, is that understood?” she says, a threat in her voice.

I stare at her hand raised in front of me and then to her cold, burning eyes.

“Do you understand?” she screams.

“Why would I tell him anything?” I say, unable to keep the disgust out of my voice.

“Don’t you disrespect your father, Em.”

“Oh, Lyza,” Ren says, daring to push my mother’s hand back down. And he steps in front of me. “That’s quite a statement for you to make.”

“Damien is worth respecting, unlike our father who married a Middling,” she’s says like it’s a repulsive thought.

“Our father married for love, which I think is rather respectable. It’s much more honorable than seeking status in a bogus society,” Ren says.

“No one asked you what you think.”

“Actually, President Vider did.” Ren turns and looks at me, then walks to the exit. “And to answer your original question, Lyza, Em has displayed zero signs of receiving her gift. Such a shame, this one.”

Chapter Sixteen

The old camping area, where we spent many a summer night, is now overgrown, with no direct paths leading to it. This is probably because the Parks department decided a couple of years ago to close off access to this part of the hills, encouraging citizens to hike down lower, closer to the stream. This means Rogue’s camping grounds are perfect for keeping him tucked away from the general public. Bad for me, as I’m constantly having to finagle my way through dense brush and tangled vines. I’m not used to hiking off the path. It’s actually illegal.

If it wasn’t for Rogue’s blue denim shirt, then I wouldn’t have spotted the campsite. His tent is built into an arch of trees and camouflages perfectly into the woods. A small area to the side has been cleared away of brush and leaves. That’s where he has the campfire set up. That’s also where Rogue sits. Hunched over, face bent to his knees, hands covering his head. He’s rocking slightly. Wait, not rocking…he’s convulsing. I push through the overgrowth faster now, ten yards still dividing me from Rogue. The way he sits, the way he moves, is all wrong. And then a muffled yelp of pain falls out of his mouth, like someone stuck a sock in his mouth and then cut off his pinky.

Thorns tear my clothes, scratch my calves and ankles, but I keep moving until I reach him. I expected to arrive and find him bleeding or see an object to blame for his obvious pain, but the area around him is empty. I expect him to notice me, even just a little bit, but he stays crouched over. Shuddering.

“Rogue!” I say, reaching for his head cradled in his hands. “Are you all right?”

He jerks away. Not looking at me. Keeping his eyes covered by his arms.

“Rogue,” I say again, afraid to touch him, but not satisfied by only sitting next to him, not doing anything. I place my hand on his back and rub, watching him burying his head deeper into his arms and knees. Biting down on the pain. The areas of his face I can see are splotched with red. Obviously he’s battling a pain so great in his head that he can’t speak, can’t even look at me. Otherwise he’d probably tell me properly to leave him alone. I can tell by the way he’s moved away from my hand that he would prefer for me not to be here. Rogue never liked anyone to see him in pain. He’d gone to great lengths to hide injuries and now I realize again he’s hiding.

For ten minutes I sit beside him, only touching him that once. The pain in him goes from the searing, screaming pain I walked up on to a slower, more stubborn one. Toward the end he’s only groaning, a soft sound that still accurately communicates the discomfort. And still his hands never move away from his face. His arms cradle his head, sometimes his fingers going white by the pressure. Shallow breaths finally replace his painful moans. Shaking replaces the convulsions. And I’m surprised when he pulls his head out of hands and lays it on my shoulder. He takes exasperated breaths, seeming to breathe through smaller bouts of pain. With the weight of his head on my shoulder and a confounding turn of events, I have a hard time determining what to do. How to help him. I finally reach out and grab his hand. Instantly he holds on to it like a person clasping onto the rope thrown over the cliff to rescue them. I return his pressure with my own firm grip. “It’s okay, Rogue,” I whisper against his head. “You’re all right. I’m here.”

I don’t know what I’m here for, but I guess it shouldn’t really matter. Something’s hurting Rogue, something he’s struggling to battle. Then like a clear, winter’s wind it hits me, blowing me over more with its cold than its momentum. “Rogue, they did this to you, didn’t they?” He doesn’t stir from my shoulder, but I feel his breath pause. “Your father…”

Rogue pulls his head away from my shoulder, leaving a patch of sweat where it had been. His hair is stuck to his brow in places, curling wildly in other places from the moisture. Red eyes etched with exhaustion catch mine. His elbows rest now on his knees. And I have a feeling he’d prefer to be lying down now.

“Or emptying the contents of my stomach,” Rogue says, his voice mostly a growl.

“What?” Why did he just say that?

“You thought I’d prefer to be laying down right now. You’re right, but I’m also hella nauseous,” he says.

“Wait? What? You’re telepathic now?”

He shakes his head. “No,” he says, taking a steadying breath. “It’s just after an episode everything heightens. I’m telepathic, telekinetic, clairvoyant, and a whole bunch of other things, but only the first few minutes afterwards.”

“You can lie down,” I say, indicating his tent. “I’ll stay close by and watch over you.”

Rogue takes a swig from the water canteen by his feet. Shakes his head. “I’m not laying down and you should just leave. You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“But I did see it and I want to know what’s wrong with you,” I say.

He gives me a tired look. Pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. “Em, don’t be offended when I tell you to mind your own business.”

“Don’t be offended when I tell you to stuff it.”

“Oh, you’re such a beautiful pain the in ass,” he says, pushing to a standing position. “Now, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” he says, trying to inject lightness into his strained voice.

“Zack will be here soon. We wanted to see you.”

Rogue walks off a few paces and turns to me, staring at the dirt-covered ground. Nods.

“Tell me what they did to you. Tell me how I can help,” I say, taking a few steps closer to him.

He shakes his head. Gives me an annoyed look. “It was a headache, Em. People in the real world, who don’t have mega vitamins and unnatural chemicals, get ’em. That’s all.”

“Bullshit. I may not know much about the world, but I know what just happened to you isn’t normal.” I pause and stare at him; he’s actually stunning when he’s being stubborn, like a cat.

“You know nothing, Em. Just forget about it.”

“Look, you can pretend I’m naïve, but I think they did this to you. Actually, I know it, so let me help.”

“You can’t,” he says, not rejecting my claim. “If you do then you’re gonna put yourself in danger.”

“I’m already putting myself in danger. I can make my own decisions. Today was the first day in over three years I didn’t have an injection. I beat the system,” I say proudly.

“Damn it, Em!” he yells so loud a flock of nearby birds takes flight. His face burns red. “That’s what causes the headaches. You can’t just stop getting the injections.”

“But you told me—”

“And I told you not to do anything drastic!”

“So that’s why you get the headaches?” I say, piecing it all together. “How do we stop them?”

“Keep taking the injections for one,” he says with a growl, looking like he’s about to pounce on me for my stupidity. He shakes his head. “But since that’s not an option for me, there’s a med they make.”

“That’s why you’re back, isn’t it? To get the drug?” I say.

“Yes, but I can’t find it. They’ve moved or hidden it,” he says. “Maybe they figured out someone was stealing it every several months. Maybe my father knows it’s me. I’ve been through the lab a dozen times and can’t find it. But I know how my father thinks and the people he employs think the way he tells them, so I’ll find it. Then no more headaches.”

“Well, I’ll help you find it,” I say.

“No you won’t. I don’t want you involved,” he counters.

“I’m going to do it anyway. If you don’t allow my help then I’ll probably get careless. Then I’ll get caught. And it will be because you didn’t involve me and allow me to help properly.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” he says, no lightness in his voice. All irritation.

“I’m going to help you, Rogue. Involve me. I’ve already gone off the injections. I’ll need to find this medicine anyway.”

“Em, you need to go to the labs now and get your injection. Don’t go down this path. It’s not one I want for you.”

“You, my father, and your father don’t get to choose my path. It’s mine to decide. My gift is surfacing, my Skills Assessor confirmed it. I’d rather die than give up what rightfully belongs to me.”

“You don’t get that you might die,” he says in a hush, his words haunted. “That’s how serious this is. They’ve been giving you those injections a lot longer than they gave them to me. You don’t just quit them cold turkey, not without sending your body into seizures. You really want that more than some stupid gift?”

I watch him move, pace. Watch his anxious hands push through his hair. I watch him look me over, like at any moment I might convulse with a seizure. I shake my head, resign a little. “No. To hell with my gift. What I want is to help you. To get whatever this medicine is that will fix you. That’s what I want more than anything else.”

“No, Em,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Yes, Rogue,” I say, matching him.

“I think you should leave. Stay away from me.”

“Because I’m trying to help you? That’s ridiculous!” I yell.

“Yes, because you’re trying to help me! And you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so just deal with it.”

“Leave,” he says, a quiet warning in his voice, his hands balled by his side.

“No!” I fire back.

“Em, if you don’t get out of this—”

“You’ll what? What are you going to do? Kiss me?” I actually laugh, knowing I have Rogue where I want him. He’s powerless.

A dark shadow falls on his face. He brings his green eyes up to meet mine, and they pair with a threatening grin. “Maybe.”

My heart shudders, but I force myself to stand tall. Take another step forward. “Well, as awful as that sounds, I’m not leaving. I’m not forgetting you need help.”

“I’d reconsider your judgment on this. I’m a sloppy kisser.”

“Do your worst,” I say, trying to sound bold, brave. Relentless. I take another challenging step in his direction, daring to separate us by inches. “I’m not leaving.”

Rogue’s eyes swivel down on me, a strange expression in them. Disbelief maybe. He sucks in a breath. Pauses a few inches away, seeming to measure my resolve.

His fingers find my chin, angle it up. And he leans down, his warmth blanketing me. My eyes close just as Rogue’s lips close on mine. All my dreams and realities and strange alter realities rush until they meet this one. The one where I’m kissing a guy who should be dead. The boy I’ve loved all my life, but never thought of in this way. In a way in which I’d press my lips again and again to his. Take breaths that smell of him. Encircle him in my arms. This moment is beyond surreal and also feels good enough to be a dream. My fingers reach up and slide through his loose hair. He slips back only an inch and squints down at me, since the afternoon sun is at my back. “Awful, huh?” He’s close, but I still spy the grin on his mouth.

“The worst,” I say, tracing my fingers down his neck, my hand stopping on his chest.

“I warned you,” Rogue says and leans down and kisses me again, each one so tender and slow, I lose my place in it. I lose myself in him. He kisses me exactly how I feared, in a way that makes me want more.

I step back, despite my desire, and give him a punishing stare. “Don’t think I forgot why you just kissed me.”

“Because I wanted to,” he says, stepping closer.

“And also you wanted to distract me from the argument we’re having.”

“Or I just wanted to.” There’s a tempting heat in his eyes. I almost let him pull me to him, but I pivot away.

“I’m still helping you,” I say, a defiance I learned from him in my tone.

“Helping with what?” a voice calls from a few yards away.

“Zack!” Rogue says without the same hint of nervousness I feel. He takes a few long strides and throws his arm around Zack’s shoulder. “How’s my favorite friend doing?” They walk until they’re back to my side and then Zack breaks off to inspect the camping area. Rogue turns and whispers in my ear. “That’s not true, you’re really my favorite.”

“Of course I am,” I say under my breath, smiling at him. “How many times you kissed Zack?”

Zack turns, giving me a strange look over his shoulder like he heard but also misheard what I whispered to Rogue.

“How many times have you and I kissed, brother?” Rogue says, throwing his arm around Zack’s shoulder again. “I’ve lost track, myself.” Then Rogue plants a kiss on Zack’s cheek, which Zack wipes away looking only half disgusted.

“Oh, you scorn me.” Rogue grabs his chest like he’s suddenly pained. “You shouldn’t wipe away my love. Em knows better.” Rogue turns to me and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek, lingering a few seconds too long. My eyes flick up to Zack’s just as Rogue pulls away and drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Now don’t wipe that off or I’ll put you in a headlock, Em,” he warns.

My face is hot, my eyes unable to hold the evolution of confusion growing in Zack’s expression. I twist out of Rogue’s arm and stand in a spot a safe distance between him and Zack.

“I think Rogue has something he should tell you.” I turn to Rogue. “Tell him about the injections. Zack will have a better time with it. He’s not on this list. And maybe he can help you.”

Through clenched teeth Rogue says, “I don’t want help. You two shouldn’t get mixed up in this.”

“What would you do in our position?” I say, hands firmly planted on my hips.

“Would the two of you stop and just tell me what’s going on?” Zack says, looking impatient.

***

“Em, why in the world would you think once I knew this all it would affect me less?” Zack says, his eyes having grown heartbroken as he learned the news. “They’re not doing it to me, they’re doing it to you. That’s worse. Rogue’s right though, you shouldn’t have gone off the injections.”

I roll my eyes at the two of them. They love to gang up on me.

“And also, Em, Rogue is right about another thing. We just need to think on this. Nothing drastic.” Zack holds my eyes, a stubborn weight in his expression. “And you’re not leaving.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I know that’s what you’re planning,” Zack says, a firmness in his tone. “I know how your brain works. You’re staying and we’re facing this together. Quietly though.”

He’s right. I’d been thinking about it. I shrug, not meeting his eyes.

“First things first, we need to find the med—”

“No,” Rogue protests.

“Yes, Rogue,” Zack argues. “If you’re suffering we have to help. But we’ll be careful. We won’t get caught. I can check inventory for the labs. Em, keep your eyes open while you’re there. And you, Rogue, lay low. No more strolls through the park.” Zack is good at this. A born leader, for sure.

Rogue looks at me, a not-so-serious expression on his face. Then he turns, stands tall, and salutes Zack. “Yes, President Conerly.”

Zack shakes his head, but smiles still.

“I love you, brother,” Rogue says, relaxing, clapping a hand on Zack’s shoulder.

Everything feels better now that Zack is involved, like we have a chance. I’m not sure what we have a chance at, but it will be better than where we are, because I can’t watch Rogue have another of those attacks.

“Now”—Zack turns and gives me a demanding look—“go to the labs, Em. Your father will be on your case otherwise, and we don’t need you getting these attacks before we have a plan of how to fix them.”

Chapter Seventeen

I feel Rogue’s kiss on my lips as I stroll to the labs. I never in my life thought there was a reality where I would press my mouth to Rogue’s, but a week ago I didn’t even know he still breathed in this world. And his breath haunts me now. Makes me want to breathe it again. Having him so close felt too complete, like I was close to a reality where I could live my own life. Where I could know what his life felt like, experience it with him. But I remind myself I only shared a kiss with him. I’m not Rogue’s. I’m just the girl he kissed…today. I’m sure I’m a part of a club. Should have a punch card or something. I’m sure Rogue kisses lots of girls. Guys like him don’t have to try to get attention.

I know without them testing that I’m not running a fever. I can feel it, the absence of heat in my body. I’d felt it so acutely that I’m more aware of the normalcy. I’ve been too aware of my every action and instinct, waiting to breathe fire or spy a flash of the future. There’s been nothing. Aside from Ren’s reading of me, I’ve had no other indication that I have a gift trying to surface. Even so, I’ve been trying to push every leaf on the sidewalk with my mind or push my way into every person’s thoughts as I walk down the busy Central Boulevard. I’m waiting. Waiting like a chrysalis before it becomes a butterfly. A seed before it becomes a sapling. But like all those things I have no idea what I’ll become, what gift lives inside me.

I round the corner and walk into a starched black suit. The aroma envelops me immediately. I know without opening my startled eyes the man who douses himself in this scent. It’s like my father’s, but with more of a floral tone. I back up several paces and lower my head without making eye contact, taking an extremely low curtsy. “Hello, President Vider,” I say, my eyes fixed on the pavement under my feet. Why is the President walking down a main road? Out around the general public?

I bring my gaze up to catch the tight look on the President’s face. “Hello, Ms. Fuller. Are you on the way to the lab?” he asks, pressing down his suit and pushing back his perfectly short hair. It’s too cropped to curl at the ends like Rogue’s does.

“Yes, sir,” I say, standing tall, trying to eject a confidence I don’t feel into my posture.

He sniffs the air, like he smells something. Not something delicious, but rather interesting or different. His eyes swerve to me. “So, you’ve been sick, I hear, dear Ms. Fuller. My sincere apologies.”

“I’m better now.”

“Which is why you’re on your way back to the labs?” he says, his long nose leading the direction of his face as he turns in the directions of the lab. “I’m sure you’re relieved to be back to your treatments.”

“Oh, yes,” I say.

President Vider takes a couple of steps until he’s too close, looking down on me. His nostrils pull back with one deliberate inhalation. This is not the first time he’s reminded me of a werewolf. The black slicked back hair. Manicured eyebrows. Long canines. And a pronounced nose. Right now though, as the hairs on my body stand on end, I wish I envisioned him as something less menacing. Anything else.

To my horror he brings his nose down and smells my shoulder. Actually runs his nose across it. His almond-shaped eyes spring up, giving me a satisfied expression. “Excuse me for that,” he says, his breath hitting me. “It’s just I’m on the hunt for something and you smell awfully close to what I’m looking for.”

I shiver out a disingenuous smile and step back. “It must be croissants. That’s what Giorgio fixed me for lunch.”

He shakes his head, his eyes trained on me with a brutal determination. Around the streets people don’t even notice us. They know better than to even chance a glance at the President. They might have noticed him on the streets, but a second glance wouldn’t be paid. “It’s not pastries I smell on you. It’s something woodsy.”

My head snaps up. Too fast. “Well, I’ve been sick. Home all day.” I stumble back.

He makes up the distance quickly, grabbing my shirt sleeve, pulling me in his direction. The President is strong. Stronger than I realized as he holds me in place, not giving me any room to negotiate. “And who in your home is responsible for ripping your clothes like this?”

I chance a glimpse down and spy the holes and tears along my sleeves and socks from my run in the woods. My shorts are unmarked, but there are several fresh cuts along my calves. I shake my head, at a loss for a response. If I set off at a run, where can I get to? How far will I be before President Vider has someone after me?

Ever so gently, he angles my wrist up, turns it over, and his eyes run over a long scratch on the underside of my arm. Blood has bubbled up on the cut and dried. He sniffs the air. His eyes dart to mine, a strange sensitivity in them. “Do have Dr. Parker treat your wounds while at the lab, Ms. Fuller, would you?”

I pull my arm back to my body, the sting of the cut registering for the first time in my brain. “I got that—”

“While farming, I’m sure,” he says, narrowing his eyes with a conceited knowing.

“Yes,” I say too fast.

Bikes ride past us on the street. A shopkeeper across the way refills his case. Middlings hustle down the alley way behind me, which is their thoroughfare through town. Their voices low as they walk. I’m aware of all of this, like my ability to observe has suddenly been thrown into hyperdrive. But my main focus is on the figure hovering over me, too close.

“Your father told me you were still grieving for my son,” the President says, his voice matter-of-fact.

“I will always grieve for Rogue,” I say, my reaction immediate, as though built into my instinct.

His eyes narrow, scanning behind me, and then studying me with a unique interest. “You know, you and Rogue were always close, and also so much alike. I could see why you miss him still.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, at a loss for words. Again and again I take in everything around me, the details as exact as if I’d studied them under a microscope. I spy the tiniest of differences in Ms. Willow’s socks as her slacks hike up as she walks. Know they don’t match. I smell a group of Middlings who work in the sanitation department a minute before they pass the alleyway. I hear Mr. Carmichael’s stomach growl a half a block away. And in front of me I spy the tiniest hint of nervousness spring to the President’s eyes. It isn’t something I’ve ever noticed before. His eyes dilate a tiny degree. His eyelid twitches.

“Maybe I should escort you to the lab myself,” he says, grabbing my arm, nails pressing into it as we move up the street. I work at not tensing, at pretending this is normal. Because something is completely wrong. With him. With me. And I can’t afford to do anything until I figure out why. Why can I see, smell, and hear everything around me all at once and individually? Why is the President out? He seems to be looking for something, but the President is always chauffeured in a rickshaw. Everywhere he goes. Our President doesn’t walk the streets. Never has.

“The thing is,” he says, now almost pulling me through the crowd to the lab, “there’s something different about the Valley now. Something isn’t right. I can sense it, like something dead has been unburied. And it might be nice for you to bring your head up to the land of the living. I’d hate for you to get caught up in something tragic. Like whatever happened to my dear, poor son.”

I startle. Stare at him. I say the only thing that comes to mind. “I’m still so sorry for your loss, sir.”

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t reciprocate. Doesn’t accept. Instead he smiles, one that flashes both of his long canines. “We all know that Rogue wasn’t a benefit to this society. If he stayed here, he could have been,” the President says, swiveling me around at the stoop to the lab.

Stayed? He knows Rogue left here. That he’s alive.

“I hate what happened to my boy, but he chose his fate. You can choose differently. You can choose to serve your people. To serve me,” the President says.

“Well, sir, you know I have nothing to give. I’m a Defect.”

He smiles, like I just told him a not-so-funny joke. “Oh, but you do have so much you can give me. Compliance is the purest form of flattery. It means I’ve established what you need for yourself and others.”

“But why are you discussing this with me?” I ask.

“Because I don’t want dividers,” President Vider says. “I don’t need them here. And I want them to know where their place is on the outside. Em, the world outside our borders is cold.” He stops and looks at me. “Rogue will tell you this is true. You’ll suffer outside our walls and we’ll allow it. And if you’re ever found inside our borders then the worst will happen to you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, listening to his steady heartbeat, a sound that shouldn’t be audible from two feet away. The look in his eyes chills me. Paralyzes me. Crucifies me. And I’m only whole when I’m away from him, where his judgmental eye can’t see me as I stumble off to the lab.

“I’ll wait for you to get your injection, Em,” the President says, like a threat. “I want to make sure that it makes you better.”

I turn and stare at him. Take in everything about the President. Behind him my senses sweep in a thousand details.

“Because right now, you really don’t seem well, Em,” the President says, his eyes narrowed. He stands at the bottom of the stairs like a gate.

I nod and turn away from him. I open the door to the lab, breathless to find a site that empties me of all my resolve to back down from this fight. Every single chair and every single space is crowded, filled with a person. It’s never been so full in the lab.

Chapter Eighteen

There’s nowhere for me to stand while I wait for my name to be called. I literally slide in front of two boys who are lined up against the wall. They’re Nona’s age. One of them, Scott, tried to kiss her last year. The other one, who I don’t know by name, was caught a month ago skipping classes. Rebels for sure. Real hard-core criminals. Hell, why be so kind as to numb our gifts, why not just give us a full lobotomy now?

As I scan the anxious and irritated faces of the kids in the waiting room, I expect to be attuned to every detail like I’d been out on the street. It’s gone though. Unmistakably and inexplicably gone. I’d felt like a lion when I was on Central Boulevard, able to hear, smell, and see the tiniest of details from yards away. Actually, to be quite honest, it was fantastic and made me feel like the strongest predator.

I expect, since I was the most recent to arrive, that I’ll have a long wait. I don’t. Tammy calls my name next, an annoyed look on her face.

“What?” I mouth to her when I meet her by the door. She isn’t hurrying off down the hallway, making me run to catch up with her like usual. A crease marks the space between her eyebrows and she looks half past the verge of verbally tearing me in two. Then I remember the last time I was in the lab, the deception Nona and I pulled. Has she figured us out? Is she going to turn me in?

She indicates the direction she wants me to take with her pointy fingernail. “March. You know which room to go to.”

What am I going to say? How am I going to get out of this? My adrenal gland, which is already exhausted from my run-in with the President, is pumping again, overflowing my bloodstream with adrenaline. Pulse racing, I whip around and face Tammy.

“Look, I can totally explain,” I say, staring at her scrutinizing glare. And out around her the strangest thing appears. A red cloud forms, outlining her. It hovers beside her skin, bathing her in a strange glow. It’s transparent like a bubble. I stumble back, simultaneously wanting to get away from whatever is enveloping Tammy and also sensing that it’s harmless. “Wh-wh-what is that?” I say, unable to refrain from pointing directly at her.

She turns and gauges the empty hallway. Swings back around looking even more irritated than before. “Em, I don’t have time for your games. You’ve already derailed our schedule and now I have a waiting room of patients to explain this to. They’re all going to want to know why you got bumped up in line and they’re all going to be mad at me about it. Gods know I can’t tell them the truth.” She shakes her head, lips pursed as she marches past me, carrying that red glow with her.

“But I didn’t have to be bumped up, I didn’t ask for you to—”

“No, of course you didn’t,” Tammy says, chunking my file on the lab counter as soon as she opens the door. “Wouldn’t make any difference if you did and you know that. President Vider just phoned the lab himself. Said to make your injection a priority because you are past due. You’ll have this first one now and come back in three hours for your second one. He insist that you get caught up on your injections quickly.” She shakes her head, that strange red glow still hovering around her. Then quite unexpectedly she pins her hand on the doorway, closes her eyes, and sucks in a strained breath.

“Tammy?” I say, still standing in the hallway, watching the glow around her pulse with intensity, but always red. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she says, batting her eyelids a few times, like trying to clear her focus. “Just hit by a strange bout of exhaustion. It’s these hours. All the demands of the job. And now your arrival throws a wrench in our schedule.”

“Sorry,” I say, meaning it.

She straightens suddenly, moves to the side so I can enter. “Oh, good, you’re ready for her,” she says to someone behind me. I turn to see Parker rounding the corner. Encasing him, similar to Tammy, is a greenish cloud. I rub my eyes. Open them. It’s the color of an evergreen tree, but again transparent, surrounding him. Tammy has already hurried away down the opposite hallway, carrying her red glow with her.

“Hello, Em,” Parker says, giving me a genuine, although tired smile. “Please,” he says, extending his hand, indicating I should enter the lab room. I scamper into the room and take my usual seat. Parker enters behind me, closes the door, and the greenish glow around him instantly falls away. Disappears. I bat my eyes to try and clear my vision. When I open them, Parker’s giving me a concerned look. “You all right, Em?” he says, hurrying to pull the thermometer from the drawer, along with the needle and tube of pink liquid. I shudder at the sight of the poison.

“I’m…well…” I can’t figure out what to say. I want to protest the injection. To tell Parker there’s something going on with my senses. Something I can’t really explain, but then he’d be obligated to report it and the President is obviously suspicious of me. I shake my head, not having constructed a real sentence. “Nothing.”

“I heard you were sick,” he says, swiping the sensor across my head. “Missed seeing you and your bouncy curls.” He eyes the reading on the thermometer then smiles. “Seems that you’re all better now. I bet you’re glad.”

I shrug, unable to feign a look of relief.

“Well, maybe you’ll feel better after your injection,” he says, hurrying to take the position behind me. “You’ve never gone so long without your injection, I hope it didn’t slow your opportunity to recover your gift.”

I don’t nod. Instead, I clench my teeth together as he rubs the cold alcohol swab across the top of my neck. “One. Two. Three,” he says, and then the sharp intrusion I haven’t missed blankets my head in pain. It’s worse than any other time before. A scream actually rips out of my mouth. I can’t stop it, since I’m using every ounce of consciousness to keep myself upright and not buckle over. Parker’s arm actually whips around and holds me up, balancing me, keeping me still. Noises of pain continue to issue from my mouth as fire scorches through my brain and the base of my skull explodes over and over again with a cutting sensation. A single tear slips out of my eye and rolls over my cheek, finally falling on Parker’s arm with a splat. The pain turns into an ebbing throb, a more manageable sensation. Parker removes his steadying arm and walks around to face me.

“I figured the drug might have a stronger effect on you now, Em,” he says, squatting down and looking up at me. “I’m so sorry. And that’s why we don’t like you to skip injections.”

I usually nod in understanding, but I know I’m not allowed to move my head and couldn’t even if I wanted to.

“It’s hard to watch the injections do that to you kids but if it works then it will be worth it, I’m sure,” he says, standing and picking up my chart, filling out the information for this injection.

Parker doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know he’s severing our gifts. If he did, I’m certain he wouldn’t be doing this.

He claps my folder shut, gives me a sympathetic smile. “I see now why the President was so adamant about you getting your injection as quickly as possible. He really does care about every citizen, doesn’t he?” he says, like the idea just reaffirmed in his mind.

“He must,” I say, the effort to speak actually bringing more tears to the back of my eyes. The strangeness of everything I’ve experienced recently motivates me to talk. “Parker, can I ask you a question?”

He eyes the clock on the wall, seems to calculate something in his head. “Sure.” He finally nods. “I should be spending more time evaluating you after your injections anyway.”

“I wanted to get something for Tammy to thank her for being so nice all these years. I can’t decide on what to get her though. Can you tell me what her gift is? I was thinking that might inspire me.”

Parker’s brown eyes shine behind his glasses. “That’s thoughtful of you, Em. Great idea too. Tammy’s gift is she can read auras.” He pauses to tuck his pen behind his ear; it immediately gets lost in his thick slicked back hair. “You know, she says I have a green aura. Dark green.”

Chapter Nineteen

The President isn’t waiting for me as I expected when I exit the lab. My guess is that he got confirmation another way that I’d successfully gotten my injection. The evening sun is setting as I hurry to the apartment building by the old theater. I’ve never had a reason to go there until now. I’m not sure if anyone can help me at this point, but what I need more than anything is information.

After consulting the directory I hurry off to the fifth floor, taking the stairs so I avoid anyone seeing me.

I knock as soon as I arrive at his door, afraid I’ll lose my nerve otherwise.

First I hear cursing, followed by a great deal of shuffling. Finally the door opens to a not-so-welcoming face.

“Oh, dear God, it knows where I live,” Ren says, looking down at me from the entryway.

Of course I knew where to find Ren. All single Dream Travelers are given housing in this apartment building. “I need your help,” I say, eyeing the hallway, cautious of anyone seeing me here. It would get back to my father. It would provoke questions I can’t answer.

He rolls his eyes. A bit of an immature response for a grown man, but he doesn’t seem to care about that kind of thing. “I oughtn’t have given you the impression we’re fast friends by covering for you to Lyza. Your mother just encourages me to act my worst, always has,” he says, threading his arms across his chest. “But here’s the thing, you and I aren’t pals. I don’t want to buy your Girl Scout cookies or help you with your arithmetic. So I say you pop off before I slam the door in your face. How’s that for nice?”

I take a step forward, my foot blocking the threshold.

Ren raises a red eyebrow at me, looking slightly entertained.

“Something just happened to me,” I say in a rush. “Since everybody in this society is completely brainwashed by the President, I was hoping you could help since you’re relatively new and maybe not under his spell yet.”

“Oh, the old ‘you’re the only one who’s not brainwashed’ approach,” Ren says, leaning on his open door and giving an extremely long yawn. “Really? That’s what you led with?” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “You really lack imagination. Since my books haven’t been delivered yet and I’m quite bored I’ll give you the chance to bait me one final time and then I’m sending this old door shut in your face,” he says, knocking on the surface of the door with his knuckles, his gold ring catching the hallway light.

I shake my head, take a couple of steps back. “That’s all right. What’s going on with me is really bizarre. You’ve probably never encountered it and won’t know what it is. I’ll see if Tutu knows, she’s really smart. Sorry for wasting your time,” I say and turn and leave at once, making haste to the stairwell. My hand is almost to the push bar when behind me I hear clapping. I stop. Turn. Ren still stands in his doorway. He stops clapping as soon as my eyes meet his.

“Yes, a much craftier approach. I’ve always been a fan of the old ‘you probably don’t know, so I’m not going to ask you’ method. It’s clever. Now get in here before someone sees you,” he says and disappears into his apartment.

***

Ren sits in a plaid armchair, stroking his red goatee, a look of mischief in his eyes. He hasn’t said a word for more than a minute after I’ve divulged everything: the injections, my fake fever, my encounter with the President and Tammy. The only thing I didn’t tell him about was Rogue. Even then I’m not sure why I gave him so much information. I guess it’s because I don’t have much left to lose. And Reverians aren’t allowed to contest what our government does, but an outsider might not be so inhibited.

His living room is barebones. There’s only one chair, which he’s sitting in, and a coffee table with a stack of notebooks.

“You’re a leech,” Ren finally says, breaking the silence.

“I’m what?” I say, pushing off the empty wall I’d been leaning against.

He rolls his eyes. “A leech,” he says again, slower, louder. “That’s your gift. You suck out other people’s gifts and use them as your own. Well, you borrow them, since they can still use their gift at the same time, but the effect can be draining.” Ren flicks a few specks of white lint off his black trousers and then levels his gaze with mine. “Bet your Tutu doesn’t know about that kind of gift.”

“I’ve never heard of a leech before,” I say, shaking my head at this preposterous idea.

“You’re daft if you think the Reverians would write about those with gifts like that in their dreadfully flawed textbooks.”

“Why?” I say in a hush. “Why would they hide so much from us?”

“Well, as your account with the injections has already explained, these are people who disempower and the best way to do that is to withhold knowledge.”

“Are you going to stay here now that you know all this? Now that you know what they’re doing to kids, all to keep us from overthrowing them?” I ask.

“Absol-freaking-lutely! I love a good conspiracy. And I’ve been surrounded by goody goods for too long. Nice to be the only one in government without a blackened soul.”

“But why did the President bring in an outsider?” I ask, the question popping up, demanding immediate attention.

“It sounds like he’s scared gifts are surfacing and wants confirmation as soon as they do. And as we’ve already discussed, I’m the best,” Ren says.

“But doesn’t all this information compromise the integrity of your position?” I ask.

“No, because I fulfill my position the way I see fit,” Ren says, a sneaky grin on his face.

“But what if the President catches on to you? Realizes you know about all this,” I say.

“No one ever catches on to me. I’m a master of illusion.”

“Seriously, though, how are you going to fool him?” I say.

“Seriously, though, I’m a master of illusion.” He sighs. “Blimey, why do I even waste time talking to people who don’t listen?”

“Fine. I’m listening. Tell me more about leeches. Everything I need to know,” I say, starting to pace his apartment.

“I give the orders, Emmy. So don’t be a git and tell me what to do.”

I stop. Nod. Wait.

“Now let me go ahead and bestow upon you the wisdom I know about leeches.” He stands and takes up my former position pacing, his eyes pinned on the ground as he speaks. “Leeches are rare. My granddad, your great-grandfather, was the only one I know of. Most leeches do it as a defense mechanism, although you can train yourself to do it at will. You see, leeches aren’t usually spiteful people. They do it as a defense, like a porcupine with its needles. You were feeling threatened by the President so without meaning to, you stole his gift. And then—”

“Which is?” I ask, interrupting him. He stops and glares at me, which I do my best to ignore. “Do you know what the President’s gift is?”

“He sounds like he has hyper-senses. Also rare, but not someone I’d worry about bumping into in a dark alleyway. The thing that makes the President dangerous is he has the senses of a vampire and the agenda to match.”

“Oh,” I say, thinking of the chilling moment when President Vider slid his nose against my shoulder where Rogue’s sweat had stained my clothes.

“Back to leeches,” Ren says, snapping twice in my face. “Unless you’d like to stay in your daydream or wherever your tiny brain is at the moment.”

I nod. “Yes, please continue.”

“Another thing you should know about leeches is you can suck up a little or a lot of someone’s powers. You can literally leech someone to death. However, no matter the amount, the power you take can’t be stored easily, especially not much of it, not safely. Other people’s power corrupts us if we hold it inside. It can literally burn you from the inside out.”

“What does that mean for me?” I say.

“It means if you suck something out of someone then there’s an avenue you have to use to unleash it. My grandfather expelled his through combustion. On a good day, he could level a house. Probably a good thing I never saw what he could do on a bad day.”

“What?” I ask, sure that he’s joking.

“Oh God, does no one speak English around here?” Ren says.

I shake my head and try to piece together my thoughts. “You’re saying that whatever I take from someone has to come out of me somehow?”

“Ding. Ding. Ding,” he says with zero enthusiasm. “Give her a gold star…no, make it bronze on second thought.”

“But earlier, with the President and Tammy, I didn’t expel anything. Where did it go?”

“You do realize if you keep asking me these irksome questions then I’m going to lose my pleasant manner, right?” Ren says dryly.

“You don’t know the answer, do you?” I say.

He studies his fingernails, picks at one. “I haven’t got the slightest,” he says coolly. “You were given the injection, so my guess is it has to lie dormant in you until you aren’t being medicated.” Ren shrugs, still staring at his nails, his eyes growing tired. “It might kill you. Or it might give you a headache. Or it might not do anything at all. Each leech is different.”

“But it’s healthier for me if I unleash the powers I absorb, right?” I say.

“Yes, so the question is, how will yours come out?”

“That’s a crazy question,” I say, realizing it’s getting late. “Thanks for helping me.”

Ren huffs and sits down in his chair with a thud.

“I mean,” I say, walking to the exit, “thanks for barely shining any light on this matter. Your help was hardly adequate.”

At my back I actually hear a small laugh. It’s covered up by a fake cough.

“Oh, and Em,” Ren says when I’m almost to the door.

“Yes,” I say, turning to him.

“No wonder they drugged you. Not sure if they know what you’re capable of, but you’re someone I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. If you’re anything like granddad then they’re all screwed.” He smiles. “Yeah, I’m definitely sticking around to see this magic show.”

Chapter Twenty

“What are you covered in?” my mother nearly yells when I enter the house. Tutu pops her head out of her book and catches a glimpse of me from the living room. A smile unfolds, lighting up her blue eyes.

“Dear, sweet Lyza,” she says, snapping the book shut. “That’s dirt. It’s this strange substance under all our concrete. It’s as old as me.”

“I know what dirt is, Marylou,” my mother retorts. “I’m concerned why Em is covered in it.”

“Covered is a bit of an exaggeration,” Tutu says, tucking her nose back in her book. “It looks like you’ve been gardening, dear Em. Good for you.”

My mother shakes her head and rounds on me again, her face turning a slight shade of pink. “Get upstairs and bathe. I want Rachel to wash and style your hair right away.”

“I can wash my hair just fine.” I can style it too, but it’s probably better if I don’t argue with her about everything. Dee and my mother have Rachel wash, dress, and get them ready every day. They’ve deluded themselves into believing that because Rachel’s Middling family has been serving us in one capacity or another for decades she enjoys the honor. I suspect Rachel would rather be doing a lot of other things. Middlings are rarely given much choice about what job they do for the Reverians. Once they commit to serve they are elected into positions that meet their skill sets, not their interests.

I tiptoe up the stairs, careful to minimize the amount of soil that flakes off me. When I’m almost to the landing I stop and turn back to my mother. Her fuming eyes are on my back, watching me leave. “Why is it that you want Rachel to style my hair? Do we have an important event?”

“If you spent more time with Reverians and less time playing in the dirt with Middlings then you’d already know. The President has called a mandatory meeting. It’s in one hour.”

“Right,” I say, turning back around. Good thing I returned when I did. I could have spent the rest of the evening working in the fields. After another two rounds of injections today and the news yesterday, what I really wanted was to go back and see Rogue again. However, I can’t chance him getting caught, not with the President watching and threateningly suspicious of me.

I hadn’t had agriculture hours all week and Dean was glad to see me when I arrived this afternoon.

“It’s always good to have your help, and I know you enjoy the work,” he said, handing me a bucket of tools. “Thing is I don’t really need your labor as much as I have in the past. We’re fully staffed now.” He pointed with his thumb to the field behind him, which was indeed filled with more workers than I’d ever seen at the farm.

I didn’t answer, but I think the confused look on my face said it all.

“They were brought in a couple of days ago. A whole bus full of Middlings,” Dean said, angling his head low so only I could hear him. “They’re mostly transients and young adults, looking to make a fresh start. One of ’em told me they were recruited by a slick-looking fella.”

“What do they promise them?” I said.

Dean gave me a strange look. “Same thing they promised my father and all the other Middlings: a home, food, protection, and fair wages.”

“And bonuses for medical testing on their offspring,” I said, a morbid laugh escaping my lips.

“What that’s now?” Dean asked, like he misheard me.

I waved my hand to dismiss my tasteless remark. “Nothing. I was just referring to the program where Middlings can get extra compensation for doing medical testing.”

Dean scratched his head. “I don’t know nothing about that program, miss.”

“Oh, well, maybe it’s new,” I said.

“I do know that they encouraged this lot to start families whenever they want. The officials in charge of housing said they’d build more family dwellings and reconfigure as needed. That made a bunch of these fellas mighty happy,” he said, waving his hand out at the field.

“Hmmm…” I said, studying the many figures digging and plowing, working extra hard to ensure all our foods are organic and grown to exemplary standards.

“You know, it’s been good for me to be around this bunch,” Dean said, again indicating the field. “They’ve reenergized me. Made me realize how lucky I am to be in Austin Valley. How good I got it. These folks all say they’re happier, healthier, and sleep better since they arrived. You can’t beat that.”

“It must be the immune booster,” I said, assessing the rows to determine where my help could be most valuable.

“Probably the food and medicines, but definitely not the immune booster. They don’t work on Middlings. Sad, but that’s what was responsible for a string of infant deaths,” he said, his face went from confusion to remorse, like he could just barely remember his own tragedy of losing his child. The pain and memory was whisked away with a smile though, like being washed absent by a spring rain. The gap between his two front teeth was prominent when he smiled. “Good news is they’ve fixed all that. And they take a sample of blood from each new baby when they’re six weeks old to ensure they won’t have any problems. The Reverians really do think of everything and have a solution to our every problem.” He clapped a hardened hand on my back. “You should be proud of the work your father does.”

“Proud doesn’t even begin to explain the way I feel about him,” I said through a fake smile.

I recount my conversation with Dean as I shower off the dirt. Once my skin is puffy from the hot steam, I slip on my robe and head to my room, my mind continuing to comb through the details of my hours spent in the field. The Middlings, the old residents and new arrivals, all seemed genuinely happy. Dean said they were given a chance they didn’t have outside our borders. Maybe in this instance our government is doing right by them. And the testing on children? It sounds like they are trying to prevent a disease or ailment. Still, my rational brain implores me to continue doing some detective work, maybe just so I learn this is all not nefarious.

“Not so short!” Dee screams as I enter our room. Rachel sits on her knees, filing my sister’s nails. “How ridiculous! You’d think this is the first time you’ve ever done this. Has your memory lapsed since yesterday when you did my nails?!” Dee pulls her freshly manicured hand to her face and eyes it with disgust, then her eyes swivel down on Rachel, who’s almost cowering. “Well, has it?!”

“No, miss,” Rachel says, pushing to her feet. She’s my mother’s age, but looks ten, maybe fifteen years older. Her gray hair overwhelms the rest and she moves slower than I remember in years past. She turns her eyes on me when I enter, my head in a towel and my face red from the hot shower.

“Ms. Em, may I help you get ready?” she asks, giving me an eager look.

I chance a glance at my sister. Her hair is pinned in a tight side braid, and she’s inspecting it in the mirror, complaints forming in her head. “This is all wrong. And on a night like tonight!” she fusses, throwing a hairbrush across the room. “I demand that you—”

“Why yes, Rachel, I think I could use all the help I can get,” I interrupt, grabbing the lady by the hand and pulling her over to my side of the room where my vanity sits in slight chaos. I turn over my shoulder to spy Dee piercing me with a hostile stare. “Oh, Dee,” I say, waving at her. “Would you stop worrying? You look so good I positively want to be you.”

She dabs too much powder onto the end of her pointy nose and smirks. “You wish you had a gift as amazing as mine. Well, you just wish you had a gift,” she says with an evil cackle.

“How right you are. I only wish I had my gift.” Then I’d singe off your eyebrows. I’m just about to run the brush through my hair, when Rachel’s hand stops me. I look up to catch her thoughtful eyes.

“Please, allow me, miss,” she says, taking the brush from me. “And you really don’t want to overbrush hair like yours, you’ll frizz your curls.”

“What’s this ‘allow me’ business, Rachel?” Dee says, acid in her tone. “You’re never so polite to me.”

“She pities me and my bad hygiene,” I say, winking at Rachel in the mirror. She winks back.

“How would you like your hair tonight, miss?”

“Whatever you think is best. You’re the expert,” I say, cleaning the dirt out from underneath my fingernails.

“Your mother laid out your clothes for you,” Rachel says, indicating the hangers draped in cream fabrics beside the closet.

“How nice of her,” I say dryly. “This must be a big meeting, indeed.”

“It is and you’d know that—”

“If I wasn’t such a loser,” I say, cutting off Dee. “Mother already beat you to that one.”

“The President is going to make some big announcements tonight,” Dee says, slipping a black shawl around her shoulders. “And afterwards there’s going to be a big party, with music and cake. This is a big deal, Em.” She walks over to my vanity and snatches a diamond-encrusted comb off the surface. “Keep your hands off my stuff.”

I’m not going to anger myself and argue with Dee. It’s pointless to tell her that Tutu gave me those combs for my twelfth birthday. I’m absolutely positive my sister has already concocted a story in her head, which she firmly believes, where the antique hair pieces belong to her. I’ll just wait until she’s sleeping and steal them back, as I have a dozen times already.

“You’re good as gold,” Rachel says, taking the last of several hairpins and tucking it into my curls. The hair on the sides of my head is drawn up, twisted slightly and pinned at the back of my head with hairpins with pearls on their ends. And for a rare opportunity, all my blonde curls are arranged neatly down my back. Rachel also added color to my cheeks, some lipstick, and a bit of mascara.

“It’s perfect, Rachel,” I say, clasping my hand on the one she has resting on my shoulder.

“You look like an angel,” she says, her face making me feel too sentimental.

“Well, I feel nothing like one,” I say and wink at her again.

I dress in the white silk blouse and cream pencil skirt my mother laid out for me. The nude heels I’ve never worn pair perfectly with the ensemble, as well as the pearl necklace I never give myself an opportunity to wear. This whole tight-fitting, pressed look is polished, but it also makes me feel too restrained, like any action will wrinkle or stain me. I guess I’ve always preferred to move in a way that would wrinkle clothes, would stain them. Then I know I’m actually living.

“Oh, and Em,” my sister says just as she’s about to head downstairs. She has that too-nice tone in her voice. It instantly brings my suspicious eyes up to meet hers. “Father left you a present on your bed. He is so thoughtful.”

I wait for her to leave and then slowly make my way to my bed. My father doesn’t leave me presents. Hasn’t given me anything since I can remember. Hesitant eyes fall on the two pieces lying flatly on my bed. I suck in a sudden breath and stumble back, like I’ve just seen one of Tutu’s ghosts. The top and bottom half of a statue of Lady Justice lies on my comforter. It’s the statue from my father’s office. The one I broke.

Chapter Twenty-One

I take each step down the staircase, thinking that my nervousness will make my feet slip out from underneath me and I’ll tumble to the bottom, broken and hopefully in a lot less trouble. From the corner of my vision I spy my mother fussing over Nona’s hair. I round the end of the banister and stand staring at my family. They’re all dressed in black. My mother and Dee both wear tight-fighting dresses. My father in his usual suit. Nona, a pleated skirt and blazer, but around her neck is tied a silk white scarf. I can’t help it. I thread my eyes down my crisp, light appearance and then over the dark bodies in front of me. They look like they’re going to a funeral. And I, well I look appropriate enough to be buried.

“Is everything all right, Em?” my mother says, a snarky tone in her repressed smile.

“I’m fine,” I say, brushing off nonexistent lint from my blouse and standing tall.

“Do you think it’s acceptable to keep your family waiting while you get ready?” my father asks from behind my mother and sister. The look on his stone face doesn’t give anything away. It’s the same mask he always wears, but I spy an extra degree of heat behind it. He narrows his eyes at me and I feel the all too familiar invasion into my thoughts. I throw up a shield to block him, to stop the trespassing.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” I say with a practiced curtsy.

“She’s going to have back troubles if you keep insisting she does that,” Tutu says from behind my father. She takes a few hobbled steps and then comes around to my side.

Tutu isn’t dressed for the affair. She has the clout to finally “stick a decline” to the President. I eye her dressing gown with envy.

“We must be off,” my father says, hastening the group to the exit.

“Of course you must. That’s what you people do. Hurry off to your engagements where not much engaging happens from what I can see,” Tutu says, eyeing my father with a scrupulous look. She’s the only one who can get away with it. “Oh, and Damien, if the cake is chocolate, bring me home a piece.”

I smile at her brazen nature and hurry out the door. Her withered hand catches me as I try to go. A scent as inborn as my own wafts from her as she pulls me close enough to whisper in my ear. It’s a mixture of salt and lavender. “Those who see the fire run. The rest die from smoke,” she says, not a hint of lightness in her usual jovial voice.

She doesn’t say another word, just stares at me with an intensity I think will saw me in two. I nod. The words “Yes, Tutu” fall out of my mouth.

“Good girl,” she says, and then turns me around and slaps me on the bottom. “Get out of here before your father convicts you of stalling this gods-forsaken meeting.”

***

My heels almost kill my pinky toes by the time we walk the three blocks to the old theater. Cars are rarely used, even on special occasions. Since there’s no way I’m riding my bike in a pencil skirt, walking was the only option. I dutifully took up the rear for my family as they marched down Central Boulevard. Multiple times we’ve stopped so my father could shake hands with various people and exchange pleasantries. It really is a boring business. Politics. I break away from the pack when we arrive at the theater, intent on spilling some news to an important someone.

Zack spots me at once from his place stationed at the corner. His eyes actually do a double take and he freezes in place looking at me, like my head is twice its normal size. “Em?” he says, giving me a look of awe.

“Later,” I say, waving my hand haphazardly at my head and dress. “I’ve got someth—”

“Hi, Zachary,” Dee says, sliding right in front of me. She actually thrusts her hip out enough that it bounces into me. My sister is all legs and curves, which I realize is a hard combination for most guys to ignore. “Our time at the ball was so lovely, didn’t you think?”

“It was grand,” Zack says, taking a quick bow. His eyes dart to my anxious look and then my sister’s.

After everything I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours the only thing I’ve wanted was to divulge a tiny bit of it to him. Now I realize that’s impossible. Beside me Nona strides up, pulling on the white scarf around her neck like it’s choking her. “I’ve got something to share,” I say from the corner of my mouth to her.

“Like how you’re dead meat,” Nona says, also from the corner of her mouth. “I can read Father well enough to know when he’s about to roast someone.”

Dee has moved in closer to Zack. She has her hands tracing up and down the lapels of his jacket, her shawl having dropped down low revealing her bare shoulders and backless dress. He’s a goner at this point. “Sit beside me, Zack,” Dee says, her voice demanding. She threads her arm through his and looks up at him like he’s the President himself. “And after the meeting you can accompany me to the celebration.”

I half want to laugh at how miserable Zack looks, but my own disappointment of not getting to share my news with him overwhelms the urge. Instead I give him a sympathetic shrug and turn to leave. I will my feet to stop screaming, taking each step like I’m walking on coals. I’ve only made it a few excruciating steps when I hear Nona’s whiny voice behind me; it has a nasal quality about it that’s half cute, half annoying.

“Oh no you don’t, Zack!” she says. “You’re coming with me. We both know you’re the only one who can keep Em’s trap shut during these meetings. I’m not getting in trouble on account of her…again.”

I turn to see two distinct images. One is of my little sister, tugging on Zack fiercely, like a goat trying to pull a bull through a yard. They both wear slightly comical expressions, like they’re playing a part in a play. And the other is Dee, standing cross-armed at Zack’s back, watching him be pulled away by who she thinks is the least menacing force on this planet. Nona.

I walk off a few paces and let them catch up. “You know, he’s almost grown and can make his own decisions about who he hangs out with,” I say to Nona, who quickly takes the position beside me.

“Everyone needs saving from Dee,” she says, flipping her long straw-colored hair behind her back.

“Thanks. I did need saving,” Zack says, taking up the spot on my other side. “She intimidates me. I’m afraid to go against her.”

“Afraid she’ll burn you,” Nona confirms.

“Right,” Zack says as we walk, his eyes flicking to me every so often. He has that look of awe on his face again. “So,” he finally says, drawing out the word and strangely sounding nervous. “You look really—”

“Oh, save it,” I say, rounding on him. “Yeah, I almost look like one of you. Happy now? Happy that I sucked it in long enough to fit into this skirt?”

“Em, you always look—”

“Like a bum, yeah, yeah. I’m not in the mood tonight, Zack,” I say.

“I wasn’t going to say that. It’s just tonight you look different, like a girl who can change her colors at will. It’s stunning, actually.”

I shake my head at him. Kind of want to punch him in the shoulder right now, but resist. “Whatever,” I say. “I wanted to tell you that I figured out my gift.” I revolve my gaze all around, realizing the President could be listening, from so far away.

“You have what?” Nona says too loud.

I give her a punishing look and then continue to our seats, dragging the two of them behind me. “I can’t tell you about it right now, but soon I will,” I say as we slide into our seats.

“Em!” Nona protests.

I flick my eyes to the stage, where the President will soon stand. “Trust me.”

“You were right about the…?” She lets the question hang out there.

She’s referring to the injections. “I was,” I say, nodding and meeting Zack’s nervous stare.

“Em, that means—”

“Exactly,” I cut him off, knowing the President could be spying on us using his super hearing. “We have our work cut out for us.”

“What are we going to do first?” Nona asks, her tone now discreet, bordering on casual. “What can I do?”

“Our first priority is to help a certain someone.” I point with my eyes to the stage. “Because that someone’s father knows about him.”

Zack shakes his head slightly. “Oh no. That’s disastrous.”

I slip down in the seat, my eyes planted on the stage, my lips hardly moving as I speak. “And I think I’m in a great deal of trouble.”

For the second time tonight, Zack does a double take at me; this time I sense fear in his eyes. “What?” he whispers.

I chance a sideways glance at him. “I think my punishment will be worse than the night terror generator.”

“What’s worse than that?”

“I don’t know, but I think I’m going to find out,” I say, staring at the back of my father’s head. He sits in the front row between my mother and Dee and he’s the first one to start clapping when the President takes the stage.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When the applause dies down, the President is still resting his eyes on the podium in front of him. “Tonight we will celebrate a great many things. Tomorrow we awake to a community that is even better than the one we currently have. And each day afterwards will be marked by improvements. But first we have to make some changes.” His green eyes finally pull up from the podium and stare out at the middle of the crowd. A shiver actually trembles from my body. Nona slips her hand in mine and squeezes.

“Tonight we will discuss how to expand and reorganize our society so as to benefit everyone,” President Vider begins in his salient tone. “It’s an incredibly exciting time to be a Reverian. This society started small, just over a hundred years ago. Our forefathers knew the story of the gods, knew Dream Travelers were the golden race, and set up the place we now call home. We have been strategic in growing our population and maintaining our protection over the Middlings. It is time that we expand and spread the greatness we have to others.” He smiles, one that’s practiced, that looks almost genuine. “Our borders will be expanded to the east by one hundred miles, and this is only the beginning. Homes and more establishments will be built to serve our growing community. Already we have opened our arms to Middlings and they’ve found a great peace under our care. Very soon we will begin the process of selecting Dream Travelers from across the globe to join us, to be a part of our community. It is only through this growth that we continue our mission. And just think, you all who reside in front of me now are the founding members of this society, which will one day be so great it will have no borders.”

Applause rings out. I allow my head to swivel around. The auditorium is full. Almost every Dream Traveler Reverian is here tonight.

The President holds up a hand and the crowd falls silent at once. “I’ve chosen to lead with this good news, because unfortunately I must also address something which has affected us all in a negative way,” he says and then pauses, looking pained. “As you all know, an awful epidemic has befallen our society. One that I’ve sunk every resource into remedying. I’m of course referring to the generation of Defects, those who are not being gifted with a skill by the gods. It appears that our race is undergoing a slight evolution. And, as is my duty to the Reverians, I have traveled and researched this extensively and found this to be the problem within many Dream Traveler societies.”

“Liar,” I say under my breath.

The President’s firm gaze darts to me. I freeze, feeling his intensity like a laser beam. My anger got the best of me and I let the word slip. For too long he stares through the crowd at where I sit. Finally he clears his throat.

“My investigations have also determined we are evolved in our methods of dealing with this problem,” the President says, pride heavy in his tone. “It is this innovation within our society that contributes to the superior quality of life we share. However, this epidemic has caused a great deal of stress and discord within our society. I realize that’s unavoidable, given the seriousness of it. Therefore, I have established a plan which will end this imbalance and deliver us to a more euphoric state of being.”

The breath I suck in is cold and unfulfilling. My chest is too tense to breathe properly. Nona’s hand grips mine firmer. She pulls my hand into her lap and that’s when I realize she’s trembling.

“It’s okay,” I mouth to her, although I’m lying.

“I can’t even begin to understand how confusing it must be for the Defects who are born Dream Travelers, but not gifted with a skill at puberty. Your pain and anguish weighs on my heart every day.”

It’s hard for me to keep my eyes on the President as he recites his speech of lies. I want to declare the truth to the Reverians. I want to protest, but I’d only appear like a raving teenager. Then I’d really be in trouble. I bite down on my bottom lip, urging all accusations to stay buried inside me.

“Defects have created a divide within our population,” President Vider says, shaking his head at the news. “They’re neither true Dream Traveler nor Middling. This divide makes it difficult for us to maintain the critical balance we need to ensure the happiness of everyone, mostly the Middlings. Now that the first of the Defects is about to come to the age where they will be granted their role within the Reverians’ occupation system, it is impossible to place them. How can we place a Dream Traveler with no gift in a position of power? How will this appear to the Middlings, who are asked to work the more labor-intensive positions because they’re not gifted, not Dream Travelers? You all see the dilemma we face, don’t you?”

To my horror the crowd nods in unison and gives a collective, “Yes.”

“It has been exceptionally difficult to find a remedy that is fair to all, but I think we have found one,” President Vider says, his tone shifting to one of triumph. “And I’m confident that in time everyone will be happier. We have done everything to try and help the Defects achieve their gifts. You all know that. And we’re still hopeful that in many cases the gifts will surface for these kids. However, those coming to occupational age will need to go through our process.”

That’s me.

“Since Defects are neither fully Dream Traveler nor Middling, we think it best to convert them to a single race, one where they will have a sense of belonging,” the President booms, his tone carrying its usual enticing quality. “We recognize that it’s difficult for Defects to assimilate into the Dream Traveler culture and our studies have confirmed that they feel most comfortable with Middlings.”

My father turns his head sideways so I can see his face. Then something that he never does happens. He smiles. It’s small, but it instantly makes my stomach turn over twice.

“We now have the technology to convert Defects to Middlings, thereby relieving them of their dream traveling abilities,” President Vider says.

What!

“This is great news for this segment of the population because after conversion they no longer have to withstand the painful injections. They no longer have to fret over whether their gift is going to surface. They can relax and enjoy their lives among the Middlings. And really,”—the President stands up tall, flashes a proud smile— “I wish at times I could be a Middling. No one can argue that they’re happy here in Austin Valley. We protect and care for them. We ensure they have all their needs met. And now the Defects who have suffered for too long will become valuable members within this race. And I think we can all agree that belonging is more important than any gift. That’s what my council and I want for you, the Defects, we want you to belong. We want you to have a place within our society. A chance at having a family, since you can’t do that with a Dream Traveler. That could risk passing along your defect. We want you to have a life. And our research has told us that the only way for Defects to truly belong is to fully become a part of the Middling race through conversion; otherwise you’ll always be an anomaly and we don’t want that.”

The crowd actually stands, clapping and cheering. President Vider encourages it by striding out from behind the podium and clapping too. I turn to Zack, who is making the motion of clapping, but no sound emanates from his hands. He says something, but I can’t hear him over the deafening applause.

When it quiets down, the auditorium of Reverians dutifully takes their seats.

“Now some Defects may still be worried about the conversion and I understand this. Please know that it doesn’t need to happen until age seventeen, right before the occupational stage starts. And since this permanent conversion is a big change to consider we’ve already had a prominent Reverian family volunteer their Defect.” The President’s piercing gaze zooms until it’s pinned on me. “I’m certain that when the community witnesses this seamless transition then some will elect to do their conversion early. This decision is yours to make, though, since I want you all to feel at ease and happy with this process.”

Again applause. I don’t clap. Neither does Zack or Nona. I don’t chance a single word to them although my head is spinning with strings of worries.

“Like I said at the beginning, we are about to embark on a new age. One I’m excited to share with all of you, as well as newcomers. Our community will grow and those within it will have our support to flourish. If that’s not a reason to celebrate tonight, then I’m not sure what is!” The President waves out to the crowd as they give him a standing ovation. This time it’s short because he strides to the exit almost immediately.

The overhead lights fade on and the auditorium is a shuffling of excited Reverians, all cheerily making their way to the party.

Zack turns to me, his face starched and white, like the shirt under his jacket. “Em, you have to get out of here now. You have to run. You have to hide.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

People scurry to the exit, creating a dense bottleneck. The aisle is already clogged with happy Reverians, chatting about the delicacies sure to be served at the celebration. How brainwashed are these people that they are about to toast to a segment of their race being stripped of their ability, all because we have no gift. Because we’ve been drugged. The President and his conspirators must have figured out that he couldn’t keep up the injections and needed a long-term remedy. Convert us to Middlings. Give us happy pills and the chance at a family. It’s genius actually. He’s fooled an entire population into thinking he’s doing right by his people. I keep scanning the crowd looking for a skeptical face, a disapproving one, but everyone wears a smile. Even the kids I see all the time at the lab are laughing, chatting with their friends about the life they’ll have now.

That kid named Scott, the one who tried to kiss Nona last year, actually waves at her on his way by. “I’m going to get converted early. You should too,” he says to her with a chuckle.

“Oh, gods, I think I’m going to be sick,” Nona says, crouched over slightly, holding her stomach.

I rub her back. “It’s okay, Nona. You don’t have to worry about being converted for a while and I’ll never let them do that to you.”

She scowls at me. “I’m not worried about me. Zack’s right. You have to get—”

“Shhh. And I know. I’m just not sure how yet,” I say, staring at the crowd which seems to grow denser somehow.

“Zack?” I say his name like it’s a full question, with all the concerns I have right now.

He turns to me. Nods. A look of understanding on his face. “I won’t let them do it to you. Don’t worry.” His eyes scan the crowd. I can see his brain working, trying to piece together a solution to this all. I’m not sure if there’s one.

“My stomach really hurts,” Nona groans.

“I know,” I say, rubbing her back again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Em.” She snaps her head up from its crouched position and winks at me. “My stomach hurts. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Zack and I stand simultaneously, bumping heads as we do. “Sorry,” I say, pulling Nona out to the aisle, cutting off a group as we do.

Behind me I hear Zack. “Coming through, sick kid here. Need to get her to the facilities.”

The crowd parts like they’re water and we’re oil, repelling away from us, afraid Nona might vomit all over their shiny clothes. Behind me I feel Zack’s hand on my back steering me through the crowd. “At the exit break left,” he whispers at my shoulder. “I know a shortcut.”

I nod and pretend to have all my attention centered on the sick Nona in front of me. This kid can act. I’m almost convinced she’s about to be sick by the pale shade of green her face is turning. We round the corner out of the auditorium into a sea of people, all congregating in small groups. Around the area various buffet stations have been set up. Middling waiters hold trays high in the air, moving through the crowd, ready to serve guests stuffed mushrooms and puffed pastries filled with plum jelly.

We dart around groups, Nona still in the lead. The crowd is growing less dense as we make our way to the back side of the Performance Hall. Zack’s smart. He has us taking the exit closest to the trails, so I can get straight into the woods. We weave through a few more groups and a few pillars and come to a shuddering halt. There amongst a crowd of stiff politicians is my father. He looks up at us, no surprise on his face at all. He politely holds up a finger to dismiss himself from the group and takes three long strides in our direction.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” His eyes are only on me.

“Nona,” I say in a rush. “She’s—”

“Trying to get Em to the facilities. She’s about to be sick, Father,” Nona says at my side, grabbing her stomach again. I give her a confused look, but then catch the hidden expression on her face. I know it well. “We’re actually both feeling ill. We need to get to the facilities.”

I realize now Nona knows if I’m not the one who’s sick then there will be no reason for me run off to the facilities, which is my only opportunity to escape.

“And Mr. Conerly, are you unwell also?” my father asks.

“No, sir,” he says behind me. “I was only helping them to find their way.”

“Noble of you.” My father turns his eyes on me. “I’m glad I ran into you, Em. Did you get my gift?”

“Yes.” Bile rises in my throat. The image of the broken statue swims into my head.

“I have more where that came from.”

“Oh,” I say, covering my mouth like I might be sick at any second. “Father—”

“You and I have an appointment at the lab. Tonight,” he says, a sinister expression in his clear blue eyes. “I see no reason to put off what is the inevitable for you. And you’ll set such a superb example for other Defects.”

“But the party, Father?” Nona says, tugging on my hand and still clutching her stomach.

“Neither of you look in much condition to attend this party. By the looks of it, you’re about to ruin it, Nona.”

“Father…” I argue, careful to keep the desperation I feel out of my voice.

“Do you really think you’re going to persuade me not to have you converted tonight?” he says, careful to keep his voice low.

I shake my head roughly. “Of course not. It’s just that I really think I’m about to be sick,” I say, taking a page out of Nona’s book, holding my stomach like I’m trying to keep its contents in.

He shakes his head back at me, no remorse on his face. “This is absolutely ridicu—”

“Chief Fuller,” a woman says, striding right into our group. She looks as old as Tutu and is wearing a dress that makes Dee’s look conservative. Her blue hair hangs in ringlets around her over-ripened face. “I was so hoping you’d tell me more about this expansion. I think it sounds good enough to invest my dead husband’s weekend treasury fund into,” she says in a gruff voice.

My father eyes me over the old lady’s shoulder, then directs his attention back on her. “Of course, Mrs. Carrie. I’d love to.” Again he holds up a finger to pause her. Directs his attention to the person my attention failed to notice in a nearby group. “Dee, dear?” he says and my sister’s red head perks up.

“Yes, Father?” she says, breaking out of her group and scurrying over.

“Do escort your sisters to the facilities and then bring them back to me at once,” he says, threading his arm through Mrs. Carrie’s withered one, draped in loose skin.

“Of course, Father,” Dee says, giving the two of us a menacing stare.

“And if they give you any trouble, be sure to fire them in the right direction,” my father says, striding away with the old lady in tow.

“You heard Father,” Dee says, trying to scoot us with her arm movements.

We break away from Zack and run for the bathrooms like our lives reside somewhere in the toilet bowls. I’ve never faked being sick, but with the prospects of being converted staring me in the face, it’s all feeling less and less like an act as the inevitable draws near.

At the bathroom door, Dee stops. “Do your business,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll be waiting.”

I nod and pull Nona into the first open stall. From the sounds of it no one else is in here. I kneel down low so that I’m looking up at her. “We’ve got to distract her.”

“She’s Dee. She’s as easily distracted as a newborn puppy. Just leave that up to me.”

I nod, glad my partner in crime is Nona. “Okay, well, I’ve got to run after that.”

“I know,” she says, sounding too grown up all of a sudden.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

“It’s all right.”

“Nona,” I say, gripping her hand, which is almost as big as mine now. “I’m coming back for you. There’s no way in hell they’re doing anything to you or me. You understand?”

She only nods. A look of pure determination in her eyes.

“Okay, are you ready to go out and face the ‘evil one’?” It’s what we used to call Dee, but it made her so mad she started burning all our clothes so we stopped.

“I’m ready.”

We exit the bathroom door and there standing, like a troll guarding a bridge, is Dee. She looks unhappy about her role to say the least. “Come on,” she says, pointing at the spot in front of her. “I want to see you march to Father. Really march, like your existence as a Dream Traveler is staked on it.” She giggles. “Oh, well, I guess that’s a bad example since it’s already gone.”

Nona and I take the position in front of her and start walking, slowly weaving our way through the crowd.

“Oh, I do hope you visit after you’re converted, Em,” Dee says behind us. “Maybe you’ll do a better job with my nails than Rachel.” She gives a high-pitched squeal. “Oh, or maybe you can clean my toilet. I really would love it if you were the one instead of Heather. She’s awful. Never does a good enough job. I’m sure you’ll make a fine Middling.”

I want to run, but I know if I do Dee will set me on fire. I keep marching, giving sideways glances at Nona, waiting for her diversion. Then out of nowhere I hear Dee squeal delightedly.

“Where have you been all night?” Zack says behind me. I wheel around to spot him with an arm wrapped around Dee’s waist, pulling her into him, a hungry look on his face.

“Family duties,” she says, waving at us, not taking her eyes off his penetrating stare. She arches her back, making me think she’s going to fall back in a swoon.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” he says, bringing his chin down low on her neck. “I was hoping we could pick up where we left off at the ball.”

She giggles, backs away from him, but only slightly. Her eyes flick to us with a scowl before eagerly returning to his. “I’ll be back in just a few,” Dee says, running her black-painted fingernail down his jacket and then bites down on her red bottom lip. “I’m obligated to escort my dear sisters back to our father.”

“I do understand that,” Zack says, grabbing the hand she has on him and pulling her back in close. “It’s just that I can’t stay long. I have early meetings tomorrow.”

Dee doesn’t take her eyes off Zack. “Nona,” she says in a commanding voice. “Take Em to Father now. Don’t dawdle or otherwise I’ll burn everything you own.”

Nona stands at attention and nods. “Yes,” she says and grabs my hand, pulling me forward through the crowd.

I have only a second to turn back and watch Dee wrap her arms around Zack’s neck and pull him down for an unexpected kiss, one he flinches against. I owe him big for making that awful sacrifice to protect me.

Nona yanks me forward, but then backtracks through the crowd until we’re at a side door. “Okay,” she says almost out of breath. “Get out of here.”

“Nona, I meant what I said, I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.”

“But Father, he’ll be looking for me,” I say.

“That’s why I’m going to go distract him.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I’m going to go barf on his shoes.”

I smile at her, my heart overflowing with love. “You’d do that for me?”

“That and more, now get out of here.”

I push open the door and give her one last look. “I love you more than anything Nona.”

“I know,” she says and I swear I spy the smallest of tears in the bravest of eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The summer night air greets me like a warm blanket after the frigid air conditioning in the performance hall. I tear off my heels at the door and throw them into the ground cover surrounding the courtyard. They instantly sink below the dense ivy. Sucking in a rugged breath, I take a final look over my shoulder and then set off in a jog. I want to move faster, need to, but my tight pencil skirt prevents it. Maybe my mother knew I was going to try and run away tonight and that’s why she put me in something that constricts my legs from moving properly.

Since I’m not sure how long Nona’s diversion will buy me I have to do the one thing they’ll never expect. I forgo the paths that snake in and out of the gardens and various courtyards. The ones that meander through the park. Instead, I climb up the hill in front of me that divides the buildings of Central Boulevard from the park and then the surrounding hiking trails. The hill I’m trespassing raises up at a forty-five-degree angle and is dense at the bottom with the ivy ground cover. It’s actually easier to cross this section. Once I arrive to the forested part, it’s much harder to find something to grab onto. I’m climbing, digging my nails into the dirt and pulling, pushing, doing whatever it takes to secure every hold. Several times I miss and slide back down a few inches. My calves burn from the intensity of the climb and my shirt is already covered in dirt, but somehow I manage to get up the hill.

The good news is that I’m off the main path and also have a good view of it from up here, so I won’t get lost. The bad news is that I’ll have to hike through uncleared territory the whole way. The hiking trail would have given me three miles of easy path. Then regardless I’d have to detour and fight the overgrowth to get to Rogue’s camp. Now I’ll have almost the full four miles of untamed forest to wrestle with. Barefoot. I nod at the woods. “Bring it on,” I say, as I dart forward, knowing the forest can’t do worse to me than my father. Than my own people.

***

I’m bleeding and winded by the time I make it to his camp. I’ve moved so fast at times that I felt my heart was going to beat out of my chest. And my neck is sore from constantly whipping my head over my shoulder to see if I’m being followed. Every noise made me pause and then charge ahead faster. As soon as I saw a small jagged rock, about a half a mile into the run, I grabbed it and cut a hole into my tight pencil skirt and ripped the fabric, freeing my legs. When I set off again I was able to really run, sprint, tear through the brush, letting it scratch and poke and stab me. And I didn’t stop once because my only advantage is that I have a head start.

Will my father have people look for me in the forest? My father is all logic. I believe he would think that a person dressed in formal attire would never venture into the woods. They’d stay on the roads, scamper through the alleyways, and maybe find a Middling to hide them. Once they had real shoes they’d run north, where the closest border is and the terrain is easiest to pass. They’d escape Austin Valley the logical way. There’s no way someone in their right mind would run straight into the woods unprepared, climb up the tallest hills in the Valley. I hope that’s how my father thinks.

I’m not as quiet as Nona. She probably could have snuck up on Rogue without him noticing. When I arrive he’s pulling back the flap to the tent, holding a dim lantern in his hand. I stop for the first time in four miles and my legs instantly turn to jelly. Sweat trickles down my back. The light burns my eyes which have adjusted to the darkened forest. Still it allows me to see his face, which first takes on a look of disbelief, followed by absolute concern. His eyes dart to my skirt ripped up to mid-thigh, then to my dirt-stained silk blouse, ripped in multiple places, and finally to my face, which is scratched and hot from the long trek.

“Em?” Rogue says, taking hurried steps to me. “Are you all right?”

I nod. It’s so good to see him. Instantly makes me lighten. I sway as I try to will my bleeding feet forward. “Is there room enough in that tent for two people?” I say, and the smile I give makes the scratches on my face sting.

Swiftly he sets the lantern on the ground, not taking his eyes off me. Then he engulfs me in his arms and I allow some of my bodyweight to sink against him. He pulls back, but still holds me up. “If that other person is you, then absolutely.”

***

“I knew that was my father’s eventual plan, but I never thought he’d figure out how to do it,” Rogue says. I told him all about tonight’s announcement and my escape from conversion as I washed my face, hair, and feet using a bucket of water he had.

“You can come in,” I say, unzipping the tent and tossing my dirty shirt out. Rogue had given me one of his shirts. I had to roll up the red and blue flannel sleeves several times to make it work, but it’s warm and clean and that’s what counts. Rogue ducks into the tent and I slide back to make room for him. He’s carrying a first-aid kit. I eye it and then him. The light from the lantern isn’t bright enough for me to see his eyes well, but I see the sly smile he’s wearing, seems to always be wearing.

“I’m fine, Rogue,” I say, scooching back to the far corner of the tent, which still doesn’t put much space between us.

“Oh, no you’re not.” His eyes are pinned on my feet and legs, which I’m having a hard time hiding while still being modest in my torn skirt. “I’m playing doctor, so get over here.”

I roll my eyes, shake my head, but don’t move when he approaches. Without asking permission he goes to work cleaning the cuts on my feet and legs with an alcohol swab. Just the smell of the astringent makes me cringe, reminding me of the injections.

“How did you know what your father was planning?” I ask, watching him work.

“It’s how I found out about the injections. I knew something was wrong, so just like you, I snuck into my father’s office. He showed up with a few of his council members and I had to hide,” he says, wrapping a bandage on my foot and then slipping one of his clean socks over it. He’s so much stronger than he was a few years ago, but also more gentle. Tamed somehow. “The Council were discussing their master plan. The injections. The Middlings and testing on their children. And the conversion. This was before I left, several years ago, so the conversion wasn’t something they thought was gonna work.”

“Your father didn’t sense you in his office?” I ask, thinking of how heightened my senses had been when I was leeching him.

Rogue flips his head up, a look of surprise on his face. “You know about his gift? How? No one does.”

A smile spreads across my face. “I experienced his gift firsthand.”

I explain what Ren told me about leeches and how I am one.

“You have to show me this. I want you to leech me,” Rogue says, moving onto my other foot.

I laugh and shake my head. “I had two injections today. My gift won’t come back until tomorrow probably.”

“Well, as soon as it does,” Rogue says, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“Your father knows you’re alive. Knows you’re hiding in the Valley.”

Rogue nods, his eyes trained on the scratches on my legs. “Yeah, I know. You asked if my father sensed me in his office? Well, he did, but not at first, only after the Council members left. I thought he was gonna murder me right there. Somehow I slipped past him and ran. I didn’t stop running, not until I was outside the Northern border,” he says as he dabs ointment on a scratch along my leg.

I open my mouth, a volley of sympathies wanting to come out, but I remain silent. Finally I just shake my head. I’ve been as betrayed by my father as Rogue was by his, and still I don’t know how to respond. I guess I’m unsure how I feel about it. Soon it will hit me.

“So I kissed you,” Rogue says, flicking his eyes up to mine.

I immediately look away. “I remember,” I say without inflection.

“Are you mad about it?” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Why would I be?”

“Because we’re friends and—”

“No, we were friends and then you died,” I say, giving him a mock scowl.

He smirks and shuffles forward until he’s beside me. “I assure you, I’m very much alive.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you aren’t. Maybe another of my gifts is I can see ghosts,” I joke.

He brushes my hair out of my face, tips my chin sideways, and inspects the many scratches on my cheek. “Do I feel like a ghost?” he finally says.

No, he feels the opposite of a ghost. He’s warm, full of life.

I can’t help but to suck in a sharp breath when the alcohol pad slides across my cheekbone. “You really seem to know what you’re doing,” I say, keeping still so Rogue can finish with my face and finally release me from this torture.

“Well, I’ve become pretty self-sufficient over the years.”

“Yeah, I guess you had to,” I say, thinking about all that I still don’t know about him.

“So you and I are fugitives. Us against the Reverians,” he says a lightness in his voice.

“Yeah,” I say, feeling heavy. Then it really hits me like a storm cloud. I’ve left everything I’ve ever known or had behind. I can never go back. Not really. I’ll get Nona out, but there will be no more late-night chats with Tutu or pastries from Giorgio or afternoons working beside Dean. I’ve emancipated myself but I don’t feel free. I feel scared. Nervous. Intimidated.

“Em?” Rogue says, pulling my attention out of my thoughts.

“Yes.”

He looks suddenly serious. “The headaches are gonna come on after the injections wear off. Remember to focus on your breath. Don’t hold it. And know the pain will be gone soon.”

The headaches. I’d forgotten. The thought of having an attack like I witnessed Rogue have is terrifying, but not more so than the idea of being converted. “Okay.”

“Oh, and I’ll be right here when they do,” he says.

I smile at him. “Well, we just have to get the meds. Zack’s trying to find an inventory list for the labs. That should tell us where they’re kept. But we shouldn’t break into the lab until my gift comes back.”

“Yes, I agree,” Rogue says, stretching out beside me. He’s easily the length of the tent, but there’s still plenty of room for the both of us since I’m small. “And how do you suppose we occupy our time until then?” He folds his arms and tucks them behind his head, giving me a sideways smile.

I lay back, slipping one of the pillows he gave me under my head. My muscles are already starting to fatigue from the run. “Rogue, have you ever been to Amsterdam?”

He squints at me, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “Of course.”

“Well, I haven’t. I’ve never dream traveled without supervision. Never had the free rein to explore like I want to.”

A smile lights up his eyes as he stares at the ceiling of the tent. “Oh, yes, the first time is indeed the best.”

“Would you take me around Amsterdam tonight?” I ask, feeling a little shy with the question.

He slides his gaze toward me and then back. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Is it safe to dream travel tonight? Do you think our bodies will be safe here?”

“It will be fine,” Rogue says, all confidence.

“What about your father? Do you think he could track me?”

“He could, but a) I don’t think he’ll have the inclination, and b) there’s no way he’s finding you here,” he says, pushing his messy hair back.

“What makes you so sure?” I ask.

“My father will think this is a bear’s den.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because I doused the perimeter with bear urine,” he says.

“Won’t that attract bears?”

“I’m less afraid of bears than my father.”

“True,” I say, impressed at how crafty Rogue has gotten.

He closes his eyes and a mischievous smile graces his lips. “Find me in De Wallen in Amsterdam. I’ll see you in a few.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You took me to the Red Light District?” I say in shock as soon as I find Rogue. He’s leaning both his elbows on a bridge and staring out over the canal, a beautiful nonchalance in his stance.

“Well, you’re the rebel who picked this liberal city. And this is actually the most beautiful part of Amsterdam in my opinion,” he says, staring at the arched rooftops. “Most people judge it only on its promiscuous aspects, but if you look closer you’ll find some real beauty.”

I eye a tall brunette who’s standing in a display window. She’s wearing a thong and a bra and changing her provocative pose as each new prospective customer strolls by. “Yeah, real beauty.” I stare at her, something I’d never do in person, but those who aren’t dream traveling can’t see those who are. We exist in the same world, different dimension.

Rogue offers me his arm. “How about a tour of this fine district?”

I eye his arm and then the multiple shops behind him, all lit with dim red lights and their merchandise prancing around in the doorways or windows. “When I said ‘Amsterdam’ I was more thinking a museum or a historical center.”

“You don’t get any more historical than this,” Rogue says, taking it upon himself to thread his arm through mine and tug me to the end of the bridge and along the canal. “Some of the architecture here is from the fourteenth century.”

He directs me down a cobbled side street. The buildings lean at strange angles, giving them a unique charm. It’s undeniably an atmosphere of openness, which entices my caged curiosity. Before too long, I’ve forgotten my initial anger and find we’re easily strolling the streets. I mostly take in the sights and Rogue seems to be amused by my interest in the happenings around me.

“Do you have any questions about the city?” he finally asks.

“Not about the city,” I say, sweeping my eyes over the strange street we just walked past.

“Oh, so you have questions about other things. I should have guessed. Fire away, babe,” he says coolly.

“What are your dogs named?” I ask. The idea of having pets intrigues me. We’re not allowed to have them in Austin Valley. Animals are kept at the ranch, but that’s run by Middlings.

“The Lab is Poseidon, because I can’t keep him out of the creek, and the shepherd is Athena.”

“Oh, is the cow named after a Greek god too?”

“I call her ‘A-lot-a-work,’” he says.

I laugh. “Are they all right while you’re gone?”

“I’ve checked on them a few times while dream traveling. They’re fine.”

I slip out of his arm and approach the canal. I’ve always wondered... I tip over the surface of the water and watch for my reflection. It doesn’t shimmer there like it would if I was in physical form. I turn around and smile at Rogue, happy to have another question in my mind answered.

The look on his face is pure amusement, like he’s watching an alien explore Earth for the first time. “So, what’s your plan, Em? Now that you’re a deserter?”

“First, I’m going to break into the lab and get us meds,” I say. “Then I’m going to get Nona out. We’ll figure out what to do next after that.”

He nods, a quiet smile in his eyes. “It would be pretty easy to build an extra room or two onto my house. Might give you a place to start or stay depending on what you decide.”

I can’t hide the look that makes my face lengthen with surprise and astonishment. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you,” I say, totally sheepishly. “That’s so kind of—”

“I’d be doing it for purely selfish reasons, of course,” he says, his dimple surfacing with his smile.

“Oh…really?” I say, not able to bring my eyes to his all of a sudden.

“Well, yeah. I need farmhands.”

I laugh, grateful for his joke, which instantly breaks up the budding tension. “Do you have a garden at this house of yours?”

Another nod. “Caterpillars are a problem this year.”

“Yeah, we had a problem with them too at the farm. Dean and I concocted a pepper spray solution that really works,” I say.

“You still spend your free hours at the farm, huh?”

“Where else would I?”

“It’s summertime, Em. Last one before you’re assigned an occupation. Most take advantage of that last bit of freedom,” Rogue says.

“Well, I think there’s no better way to spend my freedom. And I won’t ever be assigned an occupation...well, unless they catch me.”

Rogue shakes his head sharply. “They won’t find you. Convert you. Don’t worry.”

His short sentences are incredibly effective at erasing my worry. “Zack does the same as me. He spends all his free time at the Government Center. He’s interning under my father.”

Rogue whistles, his eyes lighting up. “Now there’s a guy, under the right circumstances, who could make some real changes. Something great lives in Zack, something that could start a revolution.”

“That’s what I tell him.”

Rogue shakes his head, his unkempt hair falling on his forehead. “It used to burn me up inside that you two were there living your lives together and I was on the outside.”

I halt. Wait for him to turn around. His face unreadable. “Then I really don’t understand why you didn’t contact me. At least tell me that you were alive? Tell me the truth before now?”

He nods, seeming to understand my plight. “I didn’t want to risk getting you in trouble. And I pictured you were happy in Austin Valley and I didn’t want to ruin that. But like I said, I also assumed you and Zack were getting closer and that made me jealous for some reason. Now that I see that you did, it actually makes me happy.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “’Cause you needed each other.”

“Well, I need Zack, but he’s probably fine without me.”

“I doubt that,” Rogue says.

I look up as we walk, enjoying the way flowers overflow from planters on various second-story windows. And under my feet the streets are as clean as we keep ours in Austin Valley, but the vibe is the opposite. We’ve walked to a part of the district that appears a little more innocent than where we started. And I realize I didn’t mind it so much back there. It was fascinating for my eyes to take in such a bizarre scene, one I’d only overheard a Middling transplant speak about once. Unfortunately, my education in cultures and geography is limited, but that’s all about to change.

My inquisitive eyes continue roaming over all the details around me when I realize Rogue is staring at me. “What?” I ask, suddenly a little self-conscious.

He stops and I turn around and watch him study me, a curious look in his eyes. “Nothing. Just marveling at how you’re still so inquisitive.”

“Oh, did you expect that to change?” I ask.

“Not sure what I expected.”

I continue to walk and then I stop, a weird uninvited worry creeping into my head. “When you said Nona and I could stay with you…”

He stops, regards me a bit cautiously. “Yes?”

“Well, do you have other people living with you?”

He laughs. “Do you think I’m shacking up with someone? That I have a family or something?”

“I don’t know,” I say, embarrassment tightening around my insides.

“Well, I don’t. I live alone,” Rogue says.

“And you always have?”

He gives me a sideways look. Squints at me. “Yes. Why?”

“Just figured...”

“What? That I go around kissing girls and offering to have them live with me?”

“Well, maybe.”

He laughs, one so loud and genuine, it actually breaks up the tension building in my chest. “Well, I don’t. I spent the last four years alone. Hard to explain to people where I’m from and about my condition.”

“Oh,” I say, not having moved.

He slips his hands into his faded blue jean pockets, almost looking a little nervous, although that would be a first for him. “And I spent a lot of those years thinking about you.”

“Me?” I squeak out.

“Yes, you,” he says, chuckling. “You know, right before I ran away, I was gonna ask you on a date. A real one. Not a playdate and not with Zack tagging along.”

I would have been twelve. He would have been thirteen. I clench my eyes together and bury my face in my hands, giggling.

“Are you laughing at me?” Rogue asks with a smile in his voice.

“Yes,” I say, pulling my hands away to catch the amused look on his face. “I mean no. I’m mostly laughing because the idea would have been preposterous to me. I would have said no.”

“Because you had a crush on Zack?”

“No!” I say in embarrassment.

He threads his strong arms across his chest and gives me a challenging look. “Oh, come on, you’ve always favored him in that way. It was kind of obvious. And that’s another reason I never came back and all. I figured you two matched up. Kind of surprised that you didn’t.”

I shake my head at how adorably interesting all these insights are. “Well, maybe I did long ago—favor him—but after you ‘died,’” I say, using air quotes with my fingers, “we bonded more, but only as friends. And that’s what we needed.”

He nods. “Sorry my bogus death hurt you two so much. If things could have been diff—”

“Your father tried to kill you.” I step forward and grab his hand. Squeeze it. It’s so much bigger than mine. “Don’t apologize for doing what you had to to survive. I get it now.”

He eyes my hand in his. “Why would you have turned me down all those years ago?”

“Because my father wouldn’t have allowed it. You’re the President’s son. He encouraged our friendship, instigated it originally, but always warned me to be nice to you. Not to create any friction that might harm his position with the President.”

“I see you disobeyed your father even then. You were never nice to me,” Rogue says with a grin.

I smile. Nod. “Well, so I’d have turned you down because if things went poorly between us then it could have negatively affected my father.”

Rogue nods, seeming to remember how stupid it is that family relationships are arranged for political reasons in Austin Valley. “Well, if the idea of that date came as a shock, then you probably don’t realize I’ve liked you since I could walk.”

“What?”

He smiles, looking almost proud at causing that reaction in me. “If my nanny is to be believed then you’re who encouraged me to take my first step.” He pulls my hand up and directs it around his back so we’re closer. “She says I walked so I could get to you on the other side of the room. I don’t remember it, but it sounds like something I’d do.”

Being given this moment, hearing Rogue’s words, is a stolen dream. A forbidden one. One I never dared to have. And never before have I so badly wanted to be a criminal. “Are you kidding me?” I say, sliding my other hand around to his shoulder.

“I kid about a lot of things, but how I feel about Em Fuller isn’t one of them.”

“I don’t know, Rogue,” I say, shaking my head at him. “It’s a little hard to believe that I never knew all this. That I missed so much for so long.”

He gives me a sideways glance. A clever gleam in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d venture to say you miss more than you realize.”

“What does that mean?”

He waves his hand at me, dismissing my demanding look. “I just meant the whole being hoodwinked by our government.”

“No, you didn’t,” I say, spying the guilty look on his face. “What else do I miss?”

He shakes his head. “That’s all. Hey, enough of this. I vote we play hide-and-seek. You pick the next location.”

As kids we talked about playing this game while dream traveling in fantastic places, fantasized about it. And now it was actually coming to fruition. “The Louvre,” I say.

“You’re it,” Rogue says, and disappears.

Chapter Twenty-Six

After eight hours of exploring and running around museums, monasteries, and the Great Wall of China, I awake in the tent to find my body cuddled against Rogue’s. My head lies on his chest and my arm drapes across his abdomen. Somehow as my subconscious dream traveled the globe, my body found its way over to Rogue’s side of the tent. Besides from our brief embrace in Amsterdam, he kept his distance the rest of the night, probably because he was trying to hide from me. Even so, I’m embarrassed by how intertwined I’ve made my body with his while we slept.

Gingerly I pick up my arm and bring it back to my body. He hasn’t stirred yet and was still searching the Great Pyramid of Giza when I left him. If I’m swift then I can roll back to my side of the tent before he awakes. However, my first attempt is met with a small snag. Literally. My hair is locked under his arm. Angling my head up and away I manage to free my long strands with a gentle pull. I’m just about to scoot back when Rogue’s arm circles my waist and pins me to him. “Where you going?” he says against the top of my head.

“I was just—”

“Stay here.” He brings his other arm around, locking me in place.

I can’t help but smile into his chest. “Okay,” I say. My dream travels with Rogue last night had been absolutely perfect. Deliriously so. I hadn’t laughed that much since…well, since before he disappeared. And every single moment had the backdrop of an incredible location I was free to explore at will. We talked between games and in one night I found the bond we always shared grew exponentially. And also I kept realizing he was someone new to me, not the same boy I grew up with anymore. His mannerisms were as familiar as Nona’s, and then there was a host of mysteries behind his green eyes that intrigued me.

“I’d ask you how you slept, but I’m fairly certain I already know,” Rogue says, his voice sounding thick with sleep. He pulls a fleece blanket from the side and across us, making sure it covers my back. “In my haste to get to Amsterdam I forgot to cover us up.”

I let go of the reservations I awoke with and snuggle into him. He smells of pine and campfire. “I think I figured out how to stay warm during the night.”

“Yes, I see you did,” Rogue says.

Outside the tent the forest is stirring to life as the sun streams over the hills opposite of us. Waking up to the songs of birds reminds me of my childhood.

“Hey,” he says.

I flip my head up and stare into his green eyes; his eyelashes are impossibly long. The stubble on his face is a little longer, although I love it. No Dream Traveler is allowed to leave their house in Austin Valley unshaven. It’s such a handsome look and makes Rogue appear more perfect in his unkemptness.

“Yes?”

He cranes his neck until his lips are close to mine. His breath is warm in the crisp morning air. I scoot up, making it so he doesn’t have to bend so much. He pauses an inch away.

“Em?” Rogue whispers.

“What?”

“I want you to leech me.”

I deflate slightly. Sigh and roll off him to the side. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He rolls over on his side, propping his head up on his bent elbow. “And I think it’s a fantastic one. You said yourself you have to figure out how to unleash the power you leech.”

“But Rogue, I could hurt you. Tammy looked exhausted at the lab, like she was going to pass out.”

“You might hurt me, but just a little and I don’t mind. I wanna see it.”

“Rogue.”

“Em,” he says, mocking my tone. “I won’t kiss you if you don’t. Not anymore.”

I purse my lips at him. “You’re so immature.”

“I know you are but what am I?” He leans in close, tempting me, his breath on my lips. “Leech me, Em.”

“Oh, fine,” I acquiesce.

He flashes a brilliant smile before pressing his lips into mine.

***

“I’m not even sure how to do it,” I say once we’re outside, stationed in front of the tent. “When I did it to Tammy I was scared, and with your father I was terrified.”

“Yes, fear is a great motivator. You just have to find a similar one. Think of preserving yourself maybe, like you were when my father tried his intimidation tactic,” Rogue says, his face haunted by something.

I close my eyes and picture I’m running through the woods again. I think of the need to get away from my father, from the President. I think about surviving as the gods intended me and not being altered by the injections. I feel that motivation inside me stir. “Now what?” I say, snapping my eyes open.

Rogue unfolds his fingers and sitting in the palm of his hand is a silver compass. “Take this using my apportation ability.”

I don’t have the slightest idea how that ability works, but I didn’t know how President Vider’s did either. It was all instinct inside me, the way I’m sure Rogue’s is for him. With intense focus I picture the compass popping out of his hand and into mine. I desire it to be in my possession. And as second after second ticks by it stays sitting firmly in his palm. “Maybe it hasn’t been long enough since the injection.”

“Maybe, but my guess is that it has,” Rogue says. “We dream traveled the whole night and you’ll find it’s incredibly regenerative. That’s why my father only allows Reverians to do it one hour, one night a week. Otherwise everyone’s skills would be more powerful.”

“But I’ve dream traveled illegally before and it didn’t combat the injections.”

“How long did you dream travel on these occasions?”

“An hour or two,” I say.

“Yeah, well, we dream traveled for twelve hours,” Rogue says confidently. “Your gift might be weak, but it will be there. Now try thinking of a different motivator, really feeling it.”

I think of Nona. Of protecting her. Of taking something in order to protect her. Of stealing whatever it takes to keep her safe. I look at Rogue and for a second I picture he has what I need for this. That all I need is to borrow it from him and that it really belongs to me anyway.

Rogue slumps slightly, lets his head fall and then looks at me under hooded eyes. “It worked.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Besides that I’m suddenly in desperate need of a nap?”

“Oh.”

He opens his fingers again and the compass twinkles back at me. “Take it.”

Not even a full second passes before the compass disappears from his hand. I open mine thinking it must already be there, but it’s not.

“There’s always a slight delay,” Rogue says, staring at my hand.

And just as he finishes his sentence I feel the slight weight of the compass in my palm. It’s warm from Rogue’s skin. I squeeze my fingers around it and allow a smile to unfurl.

“Now that’s cool!” Rogue says, giving me an exhausted smile. “If it’s even possible I’m even more attracted to you now. You can do anything you want! Have any power you decide. You’re like the queen of super powers.”

I smile back at him shyly, opening my fingers again to spy the compass in my hand. It’s beautiful, engraved with the initials “RV” on the back.

“My mother gave it to me,” Rogue says when my questioning eyes flick up to his.

I remember now the part of Rogue’s past that I’d forgotten. His mother, Violet, died when he was five. Since a Reverian rarely dies before old age, it was considered strange, but no explanation was given about her death. Rogue spoke about it rarely, but I know it weighed on him all the time. I open my mouth to ask the question I’ve always wondered, but he cuts me off.

“Now we need to find how you unleash the energy.”

“How do I do that?”

“Hmmmm... Do you feel the energy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I say, closing my eyes, concentrating on the depths of my insides. Not the internal ones, but the energetic part of me. “There does seem to be something new, like a buzzing light. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

“Focus on expelling that.”

“Okay,” I say tentatively.

“First though.” Rogue stands, grabs both my shoulders, and angles them so I’m facing him on profile. He nods at me. “I don’t want to get blown up or whatever it is you can do.”

I give him a devilish smile. “Don’t cross me, Rogue.”

“Noted. And I never would anyway,” he says, winking at me.

“Okay, here goes nothing.”

“Says the girl who just sucked my gorgeous energy out of me leaving me exhausted,” Rogue says with a chuckle, taking a seat again on a large rock.

I smile at him. “Remember, I’ve had this hidden from me for almost four years.”

He nods and pushes his hand at me, imploring me to focus on the task. I think of pushing the buzzing light out of me. For some reason I see it with a tinge of blue. My instinct tells me to raise my hand. I point it out in front of me, aware I look like a loon. I reverse the feeling from before when I leeched the power from Rogue. I focus on letting it go, pushing it out of me. And then, although I’d been looking for the release, something quite unexpected happens.

“Whoa!” Rogue says and then laughs in astonishment. “Was that what I think it was?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Four more times Rogue makes me leech him, explaining that I need to have the process built into my motor memory like walking. He’s stretched out in the tent when Zack approaches. I’d been paranoid all day that someone might be searching for us, so I’d been watching for the slightest sign of movement in the distant woods when I spotted Zack’s blond hair. I toss a packet of granola at Rogue and rush off to meet Zack.

He darts forward when he catches sight of me. His arms wrap around me in a way I’ve never known from him and he twirls me around with an overexuberant excitement, lifting me off the ground. “You’re all right?” he asks, holding me out at arm’s length.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” he says, and from the lines under his eyes I know he’s telling the truth.

“Thanks for taking care of Dee. Not a bad job, I guess, considering,” I say, giving him a sly smile. He shakes his head at me, his eyes not finding mine.

“You’re welcome, but it was actually an awful job,” Zack says. “Still worth it to protect you.”

“Come on,” I say, tugging him toward the camp excitedly. “I have something to tell you.”

Zack stops, skepticism and caution swathing his features as soon as he arrives in front of the tent. First his eyes stare at Rogue, who’s half asleep, and then to me. His gaze follows down to my still ripped skirt and then to my face. He slides the mailbag he has slung across his shoulder off and hands it to me. “I brought you some clothes. Thought you’d need them. They’re my mother’s and a few things Nona was able to round up as well.”

“Thanks,” I say, rummaging through it to find a pair of shoes. I’m overly excited by the idea of having something besides Rogue’s oversized socks to wear.

“Em, are you really okay? You got here all right?” Zack asks again, taking in my ridiculous getup.

“Beside from breaking every fashion law in the city, I’m fine. A little bruised, but Rogue fixed me up.”

Rogue smiles from his place lying flat on his back in the tent, his eyes closed, but his ears apparently listening. “I did, indeed.”

Zack’s eyebrows knit together, a question on his face, but I cut him off before he can ask it.

“What’s going on in the Valley?”

“Your father’s madder than I’ve ever seen him. He gave Dee two days of being hooked to the night terror generator. Nona would be in extreme trouble, but she’s mysteriously come down with whatever you had and is under quarantine. It was your tutu who actually handed your belongings off to me.”

I smile, realizing that Nona and my tutu are going to be all right as long as they have each other.

“Your father is having the Middling neighborhoods searched for you,” Zack continues. “He’s already had the farm shut down for the day for a full sweep. And border patrols have been stationed at the north and east end.”

“They don’t suspect this end?” I ask.

“No, they don’t think you’d be able to get over this or the southern pass.”

“Fools,” Rogue sings from the tent, his eyes still closed.

“Rogue, are you okay?” Zack says, ducking down and checking on Rogue laid out under the green mesh of the tent. “What has you looking so exhausted?”

Without opening an eye, Rogue points straight at me. “It would be that girl, brother. She damn near killed me. Exhausted me to hell, but I begged her to do it, so who am I to blame.”

I laugh and want to simultaneously slap and kiss him.

Zack twists around, a confounded look on his face.

“You were warned,” I say to Rogue.

“And I don’t regret a minute of it,” Rogue says, stretching up to a sitting position. Looking somehow adorably half drunk, he says to Zack, “It’s her gift. You have to see it.” He slides his eyes to me, the effort looking excruciatingly difficult. “Show him, Em.”

Zack looks at me with disbelief. “You did that to him? Using your gift?”

I nod.

“Show me,” he says eagerly.

“No,” I argue. “Are you paying attention? Look at what I did to Rogue,” I say, pointing to him half slouched in the tent.

“Worth it,” he sings again, a chuckle in his voice.

“Oh, shush it, Rogue.” I turn to Zack. “I think it’s best that I explain my gift to you. That’s the safe option.”

“That’s the boring one,” Rogue says. “Show him. It’s more fun.”

“For who?” I say, turning to Rogue and planting my hands on my hips.

“For me,” he says, shaking his head like he’s trying to shake off the tiredness, his hair whipping around wildly. He pushes it back with both hands, but it’s still a complete mess. “I wanna see his face.”

“Em,” Zack says, taking a seat on the rock beside the campfire, “I’ve been dying for you to get your gift. Show me.”

“You don’t understand though. I’ll drain your energy.”

“That’s your gift?” Zack says, looking at me, confused.

“Oh no, brother. That’s only part of it,” Rogue says, looking proud.

“Do it, Em,” Zack says, nodding, looking to prepare himself internally. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I say.

First, I evoke the motivation that I built into my leeching protocol the last two times I did this to Rogue. He’s right that practicing makes the process easier. Now it feels simple, like I’ve done it a hundred times. Zack doesn’t slump or change in appearance at all, but still I feel the space in my body change, like something new has entered me.

I know with certainty that in Zack’s breast pocket his lucky charm resides. He’s religious about keeping it there. Always has been. With a skill I don’t own I slip it out of his pocket and allow it to hover just in his line of vision. It takes a second or two for his eyes to register the coin hanging in the air a foot and a half in front of his face.

He recognizes it and snatches it from the air. Stares at it in his hands and then me.

“Did you just do that?”

I nod, feeling a little guilty for taking his prized charm from him.

“You’re telekinetic?” he says with elated astonishment.

“No,” I say, muffling my laugh. “You are.”

“Wait,” he says, holding up his hand. “Did you just steal my gift?”

“Borrow,” I say.

“That’s amazing. And you can do that to anyone?”

I nod, smiling at the dirt, unable to look at Zack directly to catch the smile he has to be wearing right now.

“That’s not even the best part,” Rogue says, his words a little slurred but still sounding giddy. “Show him,” he encourages.

I turn, line my shoulders up in front of the dry kindling in the campfire. My nervous eyes hover over it and then flick to Rogue’s. He’s sitting all the way up, a smile tucked at the corner of his mouth. He encourages with a nod.

And as though controlled by instinct, I will the energy I leeched out of Zack out of my body. My hand raises up. From it a bolt of electricity shoots out and lands in the pit, igniting it into a spark and then lighting the dry wood, turning it to a small fire.

Zack jumps up, startled.

“Now that’s the best part!” Rogue says.

“You did that? How?” Zack asks, staring at me and then the fire I created.

“I’m a leech,” I say, like that should mean anything to him.

“And she’s electrokinetic,” Rogue says, lying back down.

Zack steps forward and grabs my hand, eyeing it like he’s looking for holes or damage. He shakes his head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“I told you, you had to see it,” Rogue says with a smile, his eyes closed again. “You can lay down next to me if you want to, brother.”

Zack’s eyelids slip closed for a second longer than I expected. He takes in a breath and opens them. “I’m a little tired, but fine mostly.”

“Yeah, she steals your gift, turns it into electricity, and sucks the life right out of you,” Rogue says with a whistle, like he’s enjoying the drained state I put him in. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yes,” Zack says, looking at me in disbelief. “Em, that’s—”

I smile at him, wave him off, and turn away before he can finish his thought. I walk over to the tent, carrying the bag of clothes Zack brought, and toe Rogue’s mostly lifeless body. “Hey, can I have the tent for a second. I want to change.”

He opens one eye and smiles at me. “Of course, babe.” He sits up, a groan making mention of the effort it takes him. Then he half crawls, half walks out of the tent. “You sure you don’t need help?” Rogue asks, his voice low in his throat like he’s been asleep for days. “I can help you zip or button or whatever it is you need.”

I zip the flap up, creating some privacy as I say, “I think I’ve got it covered, but thanks.”

From inside the tent, I hear the guys roll into an easy conversation. I slip on a pair of khakis I often wear to the farm, a sleeveless knit blouse, and a pair of sandals. I fold up Rogue’s shirt, but wad up the ripped skirt.

Both guys are staring at me when I exit the tent, like I’ve interrupted their conversation. Rogue’s eyes roam over me, a satisfied grin on his face. I toss the ripped skirt on the still burning fire and he gives me an alarmed look.

“What?” I ask, afraid I did something wrong.

He dismisses me with a shake of his head. “Just gonna miss that skirt. Fond memories.”

I roll my eyes at him and take a seat on the ground, as far away from the hot fire as I can manage, while still being close to Rogue and Zack.

Zack returns his attention to Rogue, who’s gone to lie back in the tent. “So they have a guard on the lab. You can’t dream travel in there.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Rogue says, using my duffel bag as a pillow.

“Yes, thought you would have come up against that security,” Zack says, nodding. “So I’m going to try and find you the codes to get in there. Before you’ve been sneaking in during open hours, right?”

“Can’t sneak a thing past you,” Rogue says with a nod. “Not easy to sneak around there during the day.”

“Right, but if we get you in there during the night then you’ll have more freedom.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rogue says.

“We need to know where the meds are though,” I say. “Otherwise we could be there all night searching. That place is huge.”

Zack agrees with a nod. “Rogue, can’t you use your apportation ability to retrieve the meds you both need?”

Rogue shakes his head, one arm over his forehead. “Don’t you think I already would have the meds and be out of here if that was the case? I have to know where an object is to displace it. Just the same way Em needs to be close to leech someone or you have to see an object to move it. There are rules. Always stupid rules. Screw the gods,” he says bitterly.

“Okay,” Zack says, not deterred. “Then you need to dream travel into Government Center and find the inventory list. I’ve been keeping an eye out for them and my best guess is that they’re kept in Em’s father’s office.”

“Let’s go tonight,” I say to Rogue.

“No,” Zack says as once, a punishing look on his face.

“Zack, I know that office. I’ve already searched it once,” I say. “The inventory list will tell us where the meds are kept, right?”

He nods.

“Fine, it’s settled. You find the codes for the labs and we’ll find the location for the meds,” I say with conviction.

“Em, I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out right now,” Zack says.

“Brother, do I need to remind you why you shouldn’t argue with her?” Rogue says and then rolls over like he plans to fall off to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

That night Rogue awakes with a howling scream. He’d been asleep since before Zack left. During the afternoon hours Rogue slept, I sometimes dared to tickle his brow and watch him clamber about trying to swat what he thought was a pesky bug. Now, though, I know an unbearable headache is ripping him in two. He’s not even all the way awake. I don’t know what to do. I stand watching as he scrunches up, burying his head underneath him, like he’s trying to entomb the pain. He moans, sucks in breaths, barks out indecipherable complaints. I watch, again and again paralyzed by the sight.

Rogue wouldn’t want me to watch him in pain, but I can’t turn away. Can’t leave him. And approaching him feels wrong too. My own undecided emotions of what I’d want in his situation plagues me. Pain isolates us. The last thing I can accept when in pain is comfort, although it’s exactly what I need. And all day long I’ve been waiting for my own headache, the first one, but so far nothing. It’s like waiting for a forecasted storm; each breeze is a potential threat and when it passes without incident there’s relief and also a foreboding.

Because I don’t know what to do for Rogue I prepare him water and a cold compress and station myself as close to him as I can without touching him. He said he’d be there for me when my headaches start. Why do I feel wrong being here for him? But Rogue is a lone wolf. Has been one for so long. He was never good at being vulnerable; he’s probably downright awful at it now.

After twelve excruciating minutes, Rogue rolls over on his back, knocking into me. It’s then that I realize he was so incapacitated he didn’t even realize I was that close. His eyes bolt open and stare up at me from his lying position, frustration lying dormant under the exhausting pain.

“Hi,” he says with a growl.

The bleary look in his face. The red edges to his beautiful eyes. The pain he’s trying to hide. It shatters my insides, tears me bit by bit, until I’m nothing which could ever be made whole again. Our fathers did this. Our government scarred Rogue. The look in his eyes makes me crave something I never thought I’d ever want. Retribution.

“What do I do for you the next time that happens?” I ask.

“Do?” he says and somehow an amused smile forms on his mouth. “Nothing. Sometimes you have to just allow yourself to be helpless.”

I offer him the water, but he declines it with a shake of his head. “Rogue, I understand that you’re used to not having help. I realize you’ve been alone for a long time.”

“All this time,” he corrects. Even after recovering from pain he’s still playing with me, giving me a teasing look from his laid out position.

“Well, you don’t have to be all alone anymore.”

“Are you saying you want to be with me, Em?”

I scoot over closer to beside where his head rests, encouraging him to slide it into my lap. When he does I stroke his hair off his sweat-covered forehead and wipe his brow and temples with the cold compress I made. He closes his eyes and sighs, one of relief. “I’m already with you, Rogue. What I want is for you to want me to be here. To allow me to be here during the hard times.”

His green eyes flash open, their beautiful slant a little more pronounced from my viewing angle. He reaches out and strokes the side of my face. “I’m just not sure it’s necessary.”

“Is that because you don’t think I know how to take care of you? Do you think I’m that sheltered?”

I expect him to withdraw, to deny me, but instead he smiles back. “There’s no one else who knows how but you.”

***

I arrive a full minute before Rogue does. Every second waiting for him to appear in my father’s office is enough to make the panic overwhelm me. I don’t want to be here alone in this place. There’s an energy to my father and his belongings now that crystallizes my blood. I always knew he was cold, unaffected by his children, but now I know he’s soulless. How else could he do what he’s done to me? How else could he try and take away my ability to dream travel?

Rogue’s form solidifies in front of the cold fireplace. He looks out of place in my father’s neat office, arranged with perfect precision, without an ounce of dust. Rogue stands unshaven on the Oriental rug, his boots slightly covered in dirt that thankfully can’t flake off in dream travel form. Actually everything about Rogue here right now is perfect. He’s alive when he’s supposed to be dead. His appearance in my father’s office is a mockery to everything my father holds true. And Rogue represents that we are truly Rebels, not Defects.

I wave him over to the file cabinet. “There’s files in there that I know will give us the information we need.”

“Well, open it up,” Rogue says, his perfect smile crushing my focus.

I tug on the cabinet to prove that it’s locked. “I can’t. But you could get them for me.”

“Why don’t you do it,” he says, stepping up close enough that he’s pressing into me.

I smile at him and push him back. “Stop that,” I laugh. “I don’t want to leech you. I can’t have you passing out here.”

He bites down on his bottom lip and looks down at me. “Okay. But I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’m gonna be pulling random files out of there. Seems a little inefficient. We should just pick the lock.”

“You know how to do that?”

He gives me a look of mock offense. “No, I’m not a common criminal.”

“You rob banks,” I remind him.

“That’s not common at all.”

“Okay,” I say, failing to keep the smile off my face. “If you take the files out using your gift, then can you put them back?”

“Sure, sure,” he says, nodding.

“Okay, we’ve got all night. Give me a file.”

He nods. Smiles. And three seconds later a file appears in his hand, which he dutifully hands over to me.

***

Good thing we have the entire night to find the inventory list for the lab. I’m starting to think we’ll need every hour of it. We’re laid out on the rug in front of the fireplace, a dozen files splayed out in front of us. This is harder than I thought it was going to be. First of all, there are a thousand files in my father’s office. Most of them aren’t even related to the lab. Most of them are numbers and figures, and not at all what we’re looking for.

“Can I just say that you’re the perfect partner in crime,” Rogue says, skimming through another file. “And I mean that in the literal sense, which no one ever uses that term for.”

“How do you know what people use that term for?” I say, tossing another file on the stack.

“I live alone, not in a bubble.”

“I live in a bubble,” I say, opening another file folder.

“Lived,” Rogue corrects. Everything about him challenges everything inside me. And I’ve never loved a challenge so much. “You popped that bubble. You’re free now, babe.”

I tuck my nose back in the file, knowing if I don’t then I’ll make a mess of the files stacked between us. He gives me a tempting look and then continues to read, seeming to have sensed my thoughts.

I’ve been scanning the files, looking for the list that must be buried deep inside the transcriptions of different histories. Zack had said that they’d recently reorganized the labs and there were inventory lists detailing where everything had been sorted. Zack’s father, the City Treasurer, had told him about this when he inquired. His father, unlike Rogue’s and mine, isn’t purely bad. Maybe he’s misguided, but John Conerly is more of a lemming who’s been following higher officials, believing they know better than he does. He’s an honest man, one who tells Zack everything he knows. Zack probed his father for information, and not ever suspicious of his son, for good reason, he told him about the reorganization that happened a few months ago. John must not know about the injections; otherwise, he would never condone them. He’s not the type. I want to believe that anyway.

I toss another file on the stack and sigh. Rogue’s eyes flick up to me. “No luck?”

“No, that had exactly what we were looking for. That’s why I threw it on the discard pile,” I say dryly.

“Look who gets sarcastic when she’s frustrated,” Rogue says, looking amused.

I turn around and size up the area behind me, like someone could be standing there. I turn back to Rogue and give him an ultra-serious expression. “Who?”

Rogue whistles through his teeth. “Oh, and she can act too.”

“Are you talking about me in the third person?” I ask.

“I am.”

“Is that a result of spending too much time with goats and horses?”

He seems to think about it for a minute. “No, they all refer to themselves in first person.”

“Rogue, do you know what I love about you best?”

He bristles at the question. I’m not sure why, and he recovers so quickly I don’t have a chance to think on it. “I’m sure the list is long. Give me your top ten.”

I shake my head. Smile. “You don’t take yourself too seriously. Everyone here does. They run around looking for a reason to be offended. I think half the time they offend themselves by not following some etiquette.”

Rogue nods and allows a slight seriousness to creep into his eyes. It’s quickly whisked away by a mischievous smile. I’m growing accustomed to those smiles. I’m starting to enjoy them, although I probably shouldn’t. “That’s what you like best? You need to see me without my shirt on,” he says.

I toss the file I’ve already reviewed at him. He doesn’t even complain that my lousy toss sends a dozen papers scattering out around him. Although he scowls at me, he unquestioningly goes to stacking them right and sliding them into their folder.

The next manila folder isn’t all the way opened when I quickly spy a half a dozen words that catch my interest. This file doesn’t have the inventory list. It tells a different story, not related to the reorganization of the labs. It’s dated four and a half years prior. Four lines gain my attention at once.

“The first specimen’s spinal fluid was harvested on January 11th shortly after birth. It didn’t survive the harvest.”

“After the failed harvest the specimen was taken directly to the lab for a full autopsy.”

“The council decides to wait to harvest specimen’s spinal fluid for injection materials until six weeks after birth.”

“Ciphering spinal fluid from Middling infants is believed to create a successful serum for injections for Reverian Defects.”

And just like that, a world I didn’t know could tumble further, cascades through space until it must be sucked into a black hole or into whatever would completely shred it in two.

I flip my head up from the file. Rogue must sense my anxiety because he looks up at once from the file he’s reading and finds my gaze.

“They killed Dean’s child,” I say, hearing my voice in my head, but disbelieving the words.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“What?” Rogue says, pushing the stack of files aside and staring at me, not at the file I hold clenched between my fingers. “Do you mean Dean Cooper? The farmer?”

I nod. “His baby died on January eleventh of that year.” I hand him the folder. He scans it and then his eyes widen with shocked repulsion.

“They harvest Middling children to get the ingredients they need to create the injections for Defects?”

I nod, my stomach turning over in my physical body, the feeling echoing in my subconscious form. “Rogue, I’ve got to get out of here. I’m going to be sick.”

“But we haven’t found the inventory list,” he says, staring at the stack of files in front of us.

“We’ll find the meds,” I say, standing, gathering the files. “I need to get out of here now. Have to.”

He nods, revulsion written on his face. He starts sending files back into the cabinet, one at a time. It’s not a quick business and although I want to desert him and be as far away from my father’s office as possible I stay by his side.

“Em,” he says, as he’s waiting for a file to disappear. “They didn’t kill all the babies.”

He’s trying to make me feel better, I realize. He has his eyes trained on me, although I know his focus is on moving the files.

I nod. “I know. I read the whole report,” I say, holding it up. “Twelve. They killed twelve babies before they figured it out. They devalued those lives, sacrificing them to find a serum. They killed twelve babies before they realized they had to wait for them to be six weeks older to ‘harvest’ them. Those were the children we heard in the lab. To this day, they must do this to every Middling born,” I say and realize at the same time.

“I knew they were experimenting on children, but I didn’t realize that they did it to them all. I didn’t know they let some of them die,” Rogue says, swallowing hard, like it took a great effort.

“Not let them die,” I say, anger rising in me. “They killed them. Experimented on them when they were at their most fragile, early state. They harvested their spinal fluid, knowing the implications. Innocent babies. And now they withdraw spinal fluid from every infant at age six weeks. You remember what the injections felt like. Taking their spinal fluid must be excruciating for those Middling babies, but they do it to every single one born. All to create Defects.”

I think of the new batch of Middlings they just recruited. I think of the children they bear who will suffer, all for the purpose of creating a serum. What they take from them will stifle the gifts of so many Dream Traveler children who will grow up to be converted. And then those Middlings and Defects will be reunited to serve the Reverians. Again, revulsion makes my stomach turn.

“Rogue, they take this from Middlings, this spinal fluid, in order to synthesize it into something to stop the gifts in Dream Travelers.” I hold my head in my hands, completely confused by this turn of events.

The last file disappears and he steps forward, cupping my face in his strong hands. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Dean’s child didn’t have to die,” I say, remembering the pain in my friend’s eyes. “She was an experiment. The very first baby they tried to harvest so they could create…” I can’t say the words, the ones we both know are true. The ones that stare back at me in Rogue’s eyes and then he echoes like I’m locked inside a vault.

“It was probably her spinal fluid that created the injection they gave to me, since I was the first.”

I rush into his arms. There’s no other place for me on Earth at this point. If I’m not in his arms then I can’t remain upright. He cinches me in, holds me in tight to him. I feel the pain he has recently realized with me. Rogue hasn’t been whole for a long time, but to know they had broken him using a dead baby’s spinal fluid is further insult to injury. Inside my own head I feel an ache erupting from the years and years of Middling babies’ spinal fluid used to make me less powerful. To make me never realize who I was.

My words are muffled, almost nonsense as I say them against Rogue’s arm. “Come back to the tent with me. I can’t be here any longer.”

He nods, a new weight in his eyes.

In the tent we awake to each other. Neither of us says a single word. Instead, I turn and pull his arm around me like it’s a shelter. I’ve lost every single reservation about allowing Rogue to love me. He’s my strength in this revolution. He’s my encouragement.

Against my cheek I feel his breath and then his words. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll get you out of here.”

I encourage his arm tighter around me. Bury my body more into his, seeking redemption in his embrace. It doesn’t work so I turn over and kiss him. Only once, but it still erases a piece of the pain my father created in me. Before, when I realized what President Vider had done to Rogue, I didn’t know how to respond, but now the words rush out of my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry it’s your father who’s behind this. I’m sorry he did it to you first. And if I ever see him again I will do everything in my power to kill him,” I whisper, feeling him more acutely than I did moments before.

His breath pauses. He looks at me, but all I can make out is the whites of his eyes. “If anyone can do it then it would be you, but I refuse to allow you to mark your soul with his blood.”

“But he has to be stopped,” I whisper in the darkness.

“And he will be.”

He rubs his nose against mine and whispers against my lips. “No more worrying about this tonight. Rest now, babe.”

And in the protection of his arms, I find it easy to close my eyes and drift away.

Chapter Thirty

I awake at dawn and slip out of the tent, not wanting to disturb Rogue, who looks peaceful and happy in his sleep. However, he spills out of the tent two minutes later, a look of worried horror on his face. It quiets into relief when he catches sight of me stacking wood for the fire. His hand claps onto his chest as he releases a breath.

“What, did you think I went off and got myself eaten by a bear?” I say, unable to keep from laughing at his worry.

He doesn’t smile back. Doesn’t laugh. His face is too serious. The expression doesn’t look right on him. “When I awoke and you were gone...” He shakes his head, his sleep-tangled hair falling down in his eyes. “I was just worried, that’s all.”

I’ve never seen him rattled like this. When he tore out of the tent he had that look of panic a parent has when their child briefly goes missing, and they fear the worst has happened to them. I stand, move in close to him. Push his hair from his eyes. He’s so tall that I have to stand up on my toes to reach him well. “I’m fine,” I assure him.

“Good.” Rogue nods and then his eyes fall down to the fire I was building. “But you still don’t know how to build a fire.” He shakes his head at me. “How many times growing up did I show you?”

I shake my head and purse my lips at him, rebellion in my eyes. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to give up any hope I’ll ever learn.” I sling my duffel bag with over my shoulder and set off. “You build a fire. I’m going to freshen up.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rogue says, grabbing my hand and twisting me around. He’s fast, his movements sharp, but still gentle. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To. Freshen. Up,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.

He seems to consider me for a minute, then nods. “Okay,” he says, going back to the tent. “Let me grab my boots first.”

“Rogue, you weren’t invited,” I say, watching him slip on his socks, a look of determination on his still tired face.

“And I don’t need an invitation,” he says, pulling on his tan leather boots.

“Rogue…”

“It’s cute when you say my name like that. Like I’m in trouble,” he says.

“If you think you’re going to chaperone me down to the stream then you are in trouble.”

He slaps the side of his boot and stands, brandishing a smile. “I promise to be a gentleman. I could use a little of this freshening up you speak of. Anyway, I’ll stay away from you, scout’s honor.” He holds up his three middle fingers.

“I don’t see how you’re going to give me any privacy if you won’t take your eyes off me for a single second.”

“I will, as long as I can hear you and you check in with me regularly.” He’s smiling, but I sense his seriousness.

“Okay, fine,” I say, turning around and trotting off. “But stay on your side of the stream.”

***

“Oh, good, you’re here, brother,” Rogue says to Zack when he arrives late morning. “You can entertain Em while I excuse myself. She’s been demanding my constant attention.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” I say.

“Yes, you command my attention whether you realize it or not,” Rogue says, shaking his head at me like I misunderstand something of great importance.

Zack watches him walk off and then turns to me. “What’s that about?”

“Rogue thinks I’m going to disappear or get myself caught in a patch of thorns if I’m not supervised,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“He’s probably worried that your father will find you. He’s not wrong to worry. You’re not safe here for too much longer.”

“Why do the two of you always have to gang up on me?”

“Did the clothes I brought you not work?” Zack asks, gesturing to my shirt. It’s the one Rogue let me borrow when I first arrived.

Absently I hug the shirt into me. “No, the clothes were great. Thanks. I just prefer this one.” I roll down the sleeves a little so they meet my wrists; my hair is still wet, making me cold in the morning air.

Zack watches me quietly, his mind working as he does.

“What?” I say when he gets that look on his face, the one where he wants to say something, but doesn’t want to. He wears it all the time lately.

Zack sighs, seeming to resign a little of the tension in his shoulders. “Is something going on between you and Rogue?”

“Going on like how?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

“Going on like romantically,” he says, and I spy a tinge of red color the tips of his ears.

“Maybe,” I say, ignoring Zack’s gaze that watches me as I go to work organizing the camp, tidying.

“Oh,” he says, like the word contains multiple syllables. The disapproval in his tone is obvious.

“What?” I say, spinning around and facing him. He’s wearing a tight expression, his denim blue eyes heavy with concern.

“Nothing, it’s just that it’s…”

I wait for him to complete his complaint but he doesn’t. His tentative gaze just keeps shifting between me and the ground, an uncertainty in it.

“It’s what?” I say.

“It’s just that it’s Rogue.”

“So?”

“It’s just weird and—”

“Zack, you know I am a girl, right? Or maybe you don’t.”

He shakes his head at me. Clenches his eyes shut. When he opens them he actually looks angry, a state he’s rarely in. “You have this disillusion that I don’t see you as a girl. I’m not sure why. Maybe because we’re friends, but nothing could be further from the truth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say.

Zack stares at me, a meaningful expression in his eyes. I stare back, challenging him with a single look. He shakes his head again, the morning sun reflecting off his shiny, blond hair. “Nothing. That’s not what I meant to say.” Zack always says what he means. Always thinks before he speaks. He gives me a regretful look. “I just meant that you drive me crazy because you make these insinuations about me.”

“Like what?” I say, pinning my hands on my hips.

“Like that I don’t know you’re a girl. Or that all I care about is my career. Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t see me accurately.”

I stare at Zack, really stare. Watch him take a steadying breath. Watch the nervousness in his eyes morph into defeat.

“Hey, brother,” Rogue says, striding back into camp. “Why do you look like you’re planning your own funeral?”

His eyes flick to Rogue and then back to me. “I’m just worried about what happens next.”

I peer at him, trying to understand what he’s not saying this time. Trying to comprehend how I could misunderstand someone I know so well. Trying to determine how I’ve hurt him, which is the only thing I do understand from the conversation we just had.

Zack pulls a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and hands it to Rogue, who’s taken the position beside me. “Here. That’s the code. It will get you into the lab.”

My face brightens, releasing some of the tension I’ve been holding. “You got it! Thank you.”

He nods. Doesn’t smile. A morose expression in his eyes.

“You’ve been more successful than us,” Rogue says. “We didn’t find the inventory list.”

“What?” Zack says, his face falling with even more disappointment. “They weren’t in your father’s office?” he asks me.

I shrug. “They probably were.” I’d been able to section off the sadistic facts we learned about our government all day. I’d been successful at not allowing it to contaminate my thoughts, but now it pours through the barrier, bringing with it a sickening feeling. “I had to stop looking,” I say, looking at Rogue, seeing the nightmare I feel in me display on his features, bringing a coldness to his eyes. “Zack, we found out that they synthesize the formula in the injections from spinal fluid they steal from Middling babies. That’s the testing they’re doing. But Middlings don’t know. They think they are testing them for a defect, one they told them was responsible for infant deaths a few years ago.”

Zack closes his eyes. Shakes his head. When he opens them he looks struck by an epiphany. “They’re the ones who killed the infants, aren’t they? Our government?”

He’s too smart sometimes, figures things out so quickly it makes me feel dumb. “Yes,” I say in a hush.

Taking a seat on the large rock, he pins his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low. Zack is doing the opposite of what Rogue and I did last night. He’s retreating inside himself with this news. He doesn’t want us to see his face as he processes. I was only able to section off the grossness of that history because I retreated into Rogue’s arms. And again I’ll need to push this all to the corner of my mind, where it can motivate me without blinding me with anger.

“I’ll see about getting the inventory list today,” Zack finally says, his eyes still on the ground. “If I can get it then I’ll bring it to you tomorrow, maybe tonight.”

If he was looking at me then he’d see I’m shaking my head. “No,” I say. “We have to go tonight. We’ll just have to search for them.” I can’t put off getting the meds. Rogue needs them. I will need them soon.

Zack agrees at once. I’m sure he’s glad he doesn’t have to sneak into my father’s office.

“And then what?” Rogue says.

“Then I’ve got to figure out how to get Nona,” I say.

Zack shakes his head and finally brings his eyes up to meet mine. “She wanted me to pass along a message to you. Nona says she’s working on something, but she’ll need a few months to get it right.”

“What?” I say, half appalled and half curious. “What is it?”

“She wouldn’t say, but she said that it’s worth her attention. I told her you wanted to get her out, save her from getting converted, and she agreed. However, she says she’s not at risk for conversion yet.”

“So, what am I supposed to do? Camp in the woods until her secret mission is complete?”

Zack gives me an indignant look. “You need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

Rogue nods in agreement. “After we get the meds, I vote you go with me,” he says, a small question in his voice.

I nod. Of course I’ll go with Rogue. I’d go anywhere with him.

“Nona said she’ll let you know when she’s ready,” Zack says.

“How?” I ask.

“She said she’ll leave you notes in the old oak tree?” He says it like it makes no sense.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” I say. “She’s so clever.” Nona really thinks of everything. I can dream travel into the Valley at night, to the old oak outside the Japanese garden in the park. As kids we used to leave each other messages there. Nothing of importance. We just loved the opportunity to have a covert way to communicate. In dream travel form I’ll be able to read her messages and if I bring a pen with me, I can write back to her, since I can’t leave or take anything from the physical realm while dream traveling.

“Okay, that’s a good plan,” I agree after ruminating on it.

“There’s one last thing,” Zack says, standing. “When you leave, I want to go with you two. I want out of this valley.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“Now you’re talking, brother!” Rogue says, holding his hand up for a high-five.

Zack slaps it, a sliver of a smile on the corner of his mouth.

“No,” I say with a firmness in my voice.

Both guys whip around to face me, confusion screwing up their expressions.

“What?” It’s Rogue who asks the question they both are thinking.

“I need you here, Zack. I want you to watch over Nona,” I say.

Disappointment colors every single feature on Zack’s face. “She has your tutu, Em. And she will be leaving you messages,” Zack says, all his attention on me, Rogue at his back. “She’ll tell you if she needs help.”

I nod because he’s right.

“I can’t stay here now,” he continues. “I can’t intern in a government who weakens those who might be a problem. Labels them Defects. Ostracizes them from their own people. I’m going to be assigned an occupation soon. I can’t work in this government or for it. I want to be with you two.”

“But from inside the government you could help,” I say. “That’s where you could make the most change.”

Rogue looks at me, a pitiful look that says, “How could you be so mean to him?” I shake off the guilt.

“I want you with us too,” I say. “I don’t want to leave you, but there’s no one I trust more to watch over everything. I know it’s not fair to ask that of you. I’m sorry.”

“Em, I’m not sure much can be done,” Zack says.

“Well, something has to. We can’t let them get away with what they’re doing to our people and to Middlings. It sounds like Nona is working on something and if I know her it’s a revolution. Maybe I was cowardly to think of just getting us out. We need to get everyone out. We need to put a stop to this.”

“Em, I admire your beautiful tenacity, but what you’re talking about is unrealistic,” Rogue says.

“What I’m talking about is exactly what Zack was born for.” I round on Zack. “All you’ve ever wanted was to be a part of a government which supported the people, to help them flourish. I’m sorry that’s not the government we have and they fooled us all into believing the opposite. I’m sorry they’ve heartbroken us all with this treachery, that they’ve scarred some of us with their manipulation. But Zack, you’re the one person I know who can help make the changes which will actually make a difference. If you stay here you can infiltrate them. Find their secrets. Help us figure out how to expose them to Middlings, to the Reverians, to larger forces, ones that can help us bring them down.”

Zack looks at me, a strong conviction in his stare. “You really think we have a chance?”

“Yes!” I say, almost stomping.

“She does have an excellent point. Maybe I’ve stayed away too long. Maybe it is time for a revolution,” Rogue says, clapping Zack on the shoulder.

“Yes, Em, you’re right,” Zack says.

I look between the two of them with a bit of disbelief. Rogue smiles at me, then at Zack. “She didn’t expect us to agree with her so easily. Look at that look on her face,” he says, elbowing Zack in the ribs.

“Is there a reason you’re talking about me like I’m not here?” I ask.

Rogue leans into Zack’s ear, his gaze firmly on me as he does. “I think she can hear us talking about her.”

I shake my head at Rogue, but smile at Zack. He’s looking less hurt and a lot more motivated than he was moments prior.

“So, you’ll stay?” I ask him.

Zack nods. “I’ll stay. This is where I can make the most change. I’ll learn everything I can and I’ll leave messages with Nona’s. We’ll organize something grassroots, but it won’t stay that way.” Zack really looks angry now, but it’s a quiet anger that burns in his eyes. Makes his strategic mind seem to work faster. “We need to do something that will tear the current government out of Austin Valley. And it won’t be easy, but I think with planning we can do it.”

I throw my arms around Zack’s shoulders. Usually I hate his political talk, but right now he’s appealing to me on a different level. He’s making me see why this interest of his has always mattered. He pats me on the back a little nervously, which gives me the cue to pull back.

“Sorry, you just made me so proud,” I say, poking him in the shoulder.

“Well, you’re right,” Zack says. “We can’t escape this problem. We have to find a way to fight it. I’ll figure out what Nona is working on and help. And before I leave here we should all strategize while we have the opportunity.”

“You know, Zack,” Rogue says, “they didn’t put you on the Defect list because they didn’t see you as rebellious. But they’re wrong. You’re more rebellious and dangerous than all of us because you know how to hide. If anyone is gonna bring them down, it will be you.”

I’m indescribably sad that I’m the one who convinced Zack to stay. It was an incredibly hard position to take. I kept picturing the three of us living off somewhere on Rogue’s farm, making a life full of laughter and fun to make up for everything else. But our happiness would always be plagued by the people we left behind, by the injustices we turned our backs on.

***

For the next hour we strategize, the session led by Zack. He makes us set up every detail for our break-in tonight. He’s not happy until we’ve thoroughly planned out how we’ll search the labs and make our exit. Then we move on to what we can accomplish over the next few months, how we can start a rebellion. It’s more involved than I would have thought, but with Zack leading the initiative I should have expected this.

“Zachariah, can you stick around camp for another hour or so?” Rogue asks, stretching to a standing position with a long yawn. With his hands stretched above his head I’m granted a glimpse of the underside of his long biceps. They intrigue me in so many ways, the most obvious being that the men of our society don’t have bulk muscle mass. Their jobs are not labor intensive enough to produce that. And the President maintains that walking and stretching are the most ideal exercises for Reverians. So again and again I find my curious eyes trailing the toned muscles of Rogue, wondering how he built that definition. I’m unaware that my eyes are trained on his movements so acutely until I catch Zack watching me.

He darts his eyes down on his silver watch. “I’ve got a meeting this afternoon, and it will take me an hour to get back, but I can stay maybe a half hour. Why?”

“I’ve got to check on my horse. Get her ready for the ride. Keep an eye on Em, will you?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I say, knitting my arms across my chest, realizing after the fact that the gesture indeed makes me appear childish.

“Of course you don’t. I’m the baby, and it would just make me feel better if Zack was here with you while I stepped out. Humor me,” Rogue says, winking at me over his shoulder as he pulls back the flaps to the tent.

“Doesn’t it spook your horse when you dream travel around her, since she can’t see you?” Zack asks, a curious look on his face.

“Used to,” he chirps. “But she knows me well enough now.”

“How did you learn how to ride and care for horses?” Zack asks.

“The same way I learned half the stuff I do. I watched experts while dream traveling,” Rogue says, staring at the far-off hills. “I stalked this one Middling ranch for months. A cute family-run one in East Oregon. Learned most of what I know from them.”

“That’s genius,” Zack says.

“Oh, no, it’s just what people who are free to dream travel do. They maximize their potential. And you, my friend, have more than most, so I look forward to you being set free,” he says to Zack with a wink.

Zack smiles to himself. Seems to ruminate on the idea with his eyes pinned on the ground.

“Well, I’ll be back in a few,” Rogue says and then shuts the flap.

I set back to work, breaking down parts of the camp since we’ll be leaving it for good tonight. It doesn’t just feel strange to think about leaving the Valley, it’s absolutely mystifying. I realize I’m standing, not moving, holding a bag of rope and the first aid supplies. I’m frozen in place because my thoughts are frozen by this idea of leaving the only place I’ve ever known.

Suddenly I feel Zack by my side. He tugs on the sleeve of my shirt, well, Rogue’s shirt. It’s an endearing gesture he hasn’t done in a long time. It’s how he used to try and get my attention when I was giving him the silent treatment. I turn and face him. Looking at his familiar eyes makes my heart ache suddenly. I’m leaving him behind. My best friend. It suddenly feels all wrong, but I have to do it. I need Zack here working, watching over Nona.

“Come sit down with me. We don’t have much time left together,” he says.

I nod, setting the supplies down. I take a seat on the ground, leaving the rock for him so he doesn’t get his khakis dirty. However, he sits down on a patch of pine and crushed leaves beside me.

“I always thought that we’d have all this time,” he says, his words slow and robotic. “That you’d always be here in Austin Valley. I never considered a reality where you left.”

“Me either.”

“I’m sorry for what they did to you. I’m sorry for what they’re making you do.”

I nod and lean my head on his shoulder. “I know.”

“What I was trying to say earlier,” he begins and pauses. I sense he’s waiting for me to look at him. I pull my head off his shoulder and when I do, he smiles at me. “I was trying to say that there’s no two people I want to be happier than you and Rogue,” Zack says, his voice firm. “If you’re happy together then that’s even better. It just surprised me, I guess. That’s the reason for my reaction.” And because I know him so well, I spy the crack in his voice, and the disingenuous smile he flashes.

“It just kind of happened. Rogue and me. I don’t even know how,” I say, a little embarrassed.

Zack laughs dryly. “You were born, that’s how.”

I give him a confused look.

“He’s had a crush on you since forever,” Zack says, shaking his head at me like I’m clueless. “Why do you think he always threatened to kiss you? He was hoping in your rebellious nature you’d call him out on it.”

I smile inside. That’s exactly what happened.

Zack continues. “We used to arm wrestle and the winner would marry you and the loser would marry Dee.” He stares off like he’s fallen back into the memory. “I lost every time.”

“What?” I say with a giggle. “You did not! Why would you arm wrestle over me?”

He looks at me askance. Shakes his head. “I guess it’s because I like a challenge.”

“Wait! That’s why you wrestled or why you wanted to marry me?”

He laughs again. “We were just kids fooling around.”

I nod. And strangely, I deflate a little. “Yeah, and there’s not many girls to wrestle over in Austin Valley.”

“You know, Em, you’ve always been the tie between Rogue and me. The reason we became friends and stayed friends. We bonded watching you make a fool out of yourself trying to get the ball during keep away.”

I scowl at him. “I hate that game.”

“I bet you do, Shorty.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m average height.”

“Well, you didn’t play games with average height people, so you always put yourself at a disadvantage.”

“I always preferred you over people my own height,” I say.

“You mean gender.”

“Girls are…girly,” I say like it’s a disgusting thought.

An abrupt laugh pops out of Zack’s mouth. “And the sun is sunny and air is airy. I think what you mean is some girls are a bit more prissy.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean.” I plant a soft blow on his arm.

It feels like we’re saying all this right now, reminiscing, because it’s all ending. That makes me want to stop, but I can’t. I need to hear Zack talk for as long as I’m afforded. I want to store every memory, in case we never get another one.

I look directly at him and spy the sentimental expression on his face. It makes me want to punch him again. Instead I lay my head on his shoulder so I don’t have to see his false smile and regretful eyes.

“Em, I’m glad you preferred us over other friends.”

Tears press at the back of my eyes. Burn and creep closer to the surface. I nod into his shoulder, but don’t trust my voice to speak. Zack has seen me cry dozens of times, but right now I can’t. I want him to see me strong in this moment, or at least not as a sobbing baby.

“As I was saying before,” Zack continues, “if it wasn’t for your insistence then Rogue and I’d never be friends. You always invited me, and dragged me out of my house when I was resistant. I never had much confidence to be the President’s son’s friend. The idea intimidated me for years, although my father had encouraged it.”

“He’s just Rogue,” I say. “There’s no one more down to Earth.”

“That’s what you said before when I asked if there was something going on with you two,” Zack says, nodding his head. “I think that’s why he’s always had a crush on you. You never treated him differently because of who his father is. You liked him for who he is. I don’t think many people did that. And he isn’t just Rogue. He’s a guy who left here when he was thirteen and survived. He built a house. Runs a farm. By himself.”

“Wait, do you have a crush on him?” I say, grateful for the laughter that breaks up the constriction in my throat.

“No.” I feel Zack shake his head. “I admire him. He has everything I want.”

“I never took you for the ‘farmer’ type,” I say.

Zack gives an impatient sigh and again I feel him shake his head. I wrap my arm around his, careful not to wrinkle his shirt.

“Make sure that Dee doesn’t antagonize Nona,” I say.

Zack cinches my arm in closer to him. “I’ll tell her it’s a real turn-off.”

“That’s genius. That will work for sure.”

“It’s difficult to know that after today we’ll live in different worlds,” Zack says, and for the first time I hear regret in his tone.

“I’m coming back, Zack.”

“I know, but you’ll be gone for a while and you’ve always been here. Even when Rogue disappeared you were here. I’m not sure what my world looks like without you in it.”

“Probably a lot less chaotic,” I say with a fake laugh. “And you’ll be so busy that you won’t even miss me.”

“There’s no wa—”

The hum of the zipper pulling back interrupts Zack’s words. Rogue pokes his head through the tent, spies us on the ground, and smiles—one so big I squeeze Zack’s arm tighter. In a few strides Rogue takes the place on the other side of Zack.

“Ugh,” Zack groans. “You’re not as light as Em.”

I lift up my head to see Rogue with his head on Zack’s shoulder, his arm tied around his, the same as mine.

“I wish mean ol’ Em would let you go with us, instead of electing you to fix and inherit the society,” Rogue says in a whimpering voice.

“Shut up, Rogue,” I say, tucking my head back into place.

“How’s the horse?” Zack asks.

“Ready to go,” Rogue says. “I guess then we should let you go too.”

I pull my arm out of Zack’s as he stands up. Rogue is already on his feet, a hand extended to me. I take it, but keep my eyes on the ground.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I’m sorry, brother, that I never told you goodbye before and that I made you think I was dead,” Rogue says, standing in front of Zack.

I bring up my eyes to see Zack’s eyes twinkle. “Don’t be absurd. I’m just happy you’re alive.”

Rogue nods. Extends his hand and when Zack takes it he pulls in, hugging him with the other arm. Slaps him on the back, a loud sound that makes Zack sound hollow inside.

From over Rogue’s shoulder I catch a look in Zack’s face, a determined sturdiness. And it makes my insides break apart.

Rogue holds Zack out at arm’s length. “Don’t you worry. I know you will, but try and not.” And then he leans in and whispers something in Zack’s ear, which he nods to before stepping away.

I feel small as I step up beside Rogue and stare at Zack, knowing what I’m expected to do now. I shake my head. “This is dumb. We’re all going to be back together in a few months. I don’t know why you two are acting so sentimental.”

A flat smile forms on Zack’s face. “Be careful tonight, Em. Don’t get caught.”

“Have a little faith in me.”

“I do, believe me,” he says with conviction.

“Fine then, shut up and give me a hug so you can get out of here. If you’re late, they’ll get suspicious.”

Zack nods and leans down, wrapping both his arms around me. I unabashedly bury my face into his shoulder. “You be careful too. Don’t take too many risks.”

He pulls back and gives me a shaky smile. “You know me well enough to know I’d never do that.”

As I press my lips hard against each other one bandit tear escapes my eyes. It races down my cheek and lands on my collarbone.

Zack takes a long blink. Tries again and fails to give me an encouraging smile and then nods. “Bye, Em.” And then he turns and walks away.

Chapter Thirty-Two

After Zack left I retreated to the tent, volunteering to clear it out. Rogue nodded, not questioning the few clipped answers I gave to his questions regarding packing up camp. I did clear the tent while I was in there, but I also cried a flood of quiet tears. Each one a token of the loss that seared my heart. Each tear labeled with a different hurt. My father’s betrayal. The lies I’d been fed my whole life. The unnecessary pain of the injections. My mother’s indifference. Dee’s heartlessness. Leaving Nona behind. Leaving Tutu. And letting Zack walk away. Each of my tears felt full of my pain, so much so that they fell as fat drops on my cheeks and soaked one of Rogue’s T-shirts I used to dry them time and time again.

While I cried I listened to Rogue work outside the tent. From the noise he sounded to be tearing the camp into pieces, but maybe he was just working fast. The sun would set in an hour and we’d agreed to have everything done before then. I was half grateful for the noise he made, doing whatever he was doing, hoping it drowned out my sobs. And then suddenly the noise died completely and I wondered if Rogue had gone, maybe to the stream or somewhere else.

When I’m certain that no more tears will leak from my eyes I exit the tent. I find Rogue stationed right outside it, reclining against the rock, his head back, eyes closed. He has my iPod in his hands, the buds in his ears. He smiles at me when I squat down next to him.

“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing this,” he says, plucking the buds from his ears.

“Not at all.”

His hand reaches up, but pauses beside my swollen cheek, and then he strokes his thumb along it. The gesture brings tears I thought had dried up to the corners of my eyes. The look of hostile sadness on his face triggers them to flow again. “Come here,” he says, pulling me into his lap. “Gods above, I’d love to kill everyone who’s hurt you.” Rogue cradles me against his chest and suddenly I don’t cry. I breathe him in. I tremble in his arms. I wrap my arms tighter around him, but I don’t cry. He rubs his stubbled face along the top of my head and draws me in even closer, so I’m sitting across his lap.

We sit like this for what feels like a long while. I count the time by his heartbeats and can’t fathom pulling my ear away from his chest. This closeness seems to fix me somehow and I fear that as soon as our embrace is broken, the pain will storm back. Still, I pull away after maybe a thousand heartbeats, maybe more. We’ve lost most of the remaining sunlight when I peek my head up from under its hiding spot below his chin and find his eyes. “Hi,” I say, my voice sounding frayed.

“You know, your crystal blue eyes are even more intense after you’ve cried,” Rogue says, looking at me intently, studying my eyes.

I don’t know what to say so I drop my gaze to the ground.

Rogue’s fingers find my chin and angle it up, drawing with it my focus back on him. “Do you want to go with me still? After we get the meds? Have you changed your mind?”

And it hits me so acutely that I feel like my chest has hollowed out. He thinks I don’t want to leave. He doubts my commitment. The uncertainty he feels laces around my heart like a vine and begins to constrict it. Before I lose any more breath to this suffocating feeling, I sit up and straddle him, one knee on one side and the other on the other side. His eyes widen slightly. Now he knows I mean business, because I do. “No-no-no-no,” I say in a rush. “I’m going with you and I’m not doing it because it’s my only option. I’m doing it because I want to be with you.”

He stares at me, skepticism marking the corners of his green eyes.

“Rogue, I want to go with you for so many reasons. Some are obvious, like I want to see where you live, the place you’ve made your home. But I also have less practical reasons, ones that are harder to explain.”

I hold his gaze as he seems to process me and my words. I wait for him to ask, but he doesn’t. He just stares back at me, like we’re playing the quiet game. I fear I might lose this round. Finally, after too long, he guides my head down and whispers in my ear. “Will you try and explain?”

I actually smile, feeling victorious somehow. I flip my face up so it’s directly in front of his, only a few inches away. Then I hoist myself up so I’m looking down at him slightly. “I can’t let you go. If you leave, I’m leaving too. If you stay, I will. Hell, if you march into your father’s house I’ll be right behind you, because I’m absolutely, terrifyingly in love with you.”

He blinks up at me. And I don’t need any more reason to hold myself back, but still I do. I lean in close to him, and I wait. I feel his breath, but I wait. Just watch him watching me. He doesn’t pull me to him, but instead seems to understand I’m enjoying being at the edge of this moment. The moment before we kiss. When I bring my lips an inch from his a shudder actually escapes my chest. He almost smiles. Right now, under these circumstances, I feel I’m trained on his every movement with incredible intuition. And when I finally close the distance he breathes me in with a rough purr. Kisses me back like in the seconds I feigned a standoff, he starved. Strong calloused hands grip my back and pull me in closer to him. He kisses me with an unmatched intensity, one that unlocks a flood of warmth inside me, erasing any remaining pain. My hands slide around his firm jaw, down his neck, and follow to his chest. He catches them before they complete their path. Holds my hands in his, imprisons them there. He’s no longer kissing me, but his lips are only an eyelash distance away. Finally between a series of shallow breaths he says, “I’m going to regret saying this, but we need to pack up camp.”

I nod. Slide my head over and rest it on his shoulder and wait for my breaths to steady. “Yeah, you’re right,” I say.

I roll off him, but as soon as I’m at his side I scoot back closer and tuck my body under the arm he drapes around me. He knows we need to get up as well as I do, but doesn’t seem too intent on it either. Maybe like me, he’s worried about what lies ahead of us tonight and just wants to enjoy this moment. Maybe he’s just indulging me since I announced my undying love for him. I don’t really care why he’s still holding me when we have other things to do, I’m enjoying the aspects of this moment. The sun setting. The warm, but crisp summer air. The warm hand clapped on my thigh. The guy who holds me like I’m the greatest prize. After spending years being a Defect, it feels amazing to finally win in this way.

And suddenly, something occurs to me. I turn around abruptly and sit back on my knees. Rogue doesn’t seem caught off guard by my sudden change in position.

“Zack said you really have always had a crush on me,” I say, looking at him with my best determined look.

He doesn’t blink at my abruptness. He simply shakes his head. “Not a crush. Love. I’ve always loved you,” he says.

I blush and stare at a spot on his chest, suddenly unable to bring my eyes to meet his.

“You didn’t believe me before, did you?” Rogue asks.

“I did. I was just surprised that I never knew it. I mean, we were so young,” I say.

“Maybe that’s why then. But I think it’s because of something else. I think because you’re so self-sufficient you don’t see what you can have until you need it.”

I shake my head at him.

“And Em,” he says, like he’s not paying attention to my head shake, “you need me now and here I am. And you finally see my love.”

It’s my turn to stop and regard him quietly. A thousand urges are reaching from different places inside me right at this moment. I shake them off and maintain my stoic silence.

“You know,” he says, with a slanted smile, “it’s a beautiful thing that you finally need me, because I’ve been dying to be needed by you.”

I sit frozen for a long few seconds. Apparently too long because Rogue pushes up. Once he’s standing he extends his hand to me. I was already in the process of standing on my own but because I sense he wants to help me, I take his hand.

When we’re both standing, he angles his head back down at my iPod sitting by the rock. “So your music, indie folk, it’s compelling. A bit slow, but I still enjoyed the poetry.”

I forgot he’d been borrowing my music. “You still listen to alternative?” I ask, finding our standing position a little awkward suddenly.

“I don’t listen to anything. Living off the grid means no electricity. I’ve got a well and all but no TV or lights. That gonna be all right with you?”

“I don’t care for TV, but that may be because the approved channels are all lame. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get this music approved,” I say, holding up the iPod.

“I’m guessing you were damn persistent.”

“Well, if you need electricity then I might be able to help you,” I say, holding up a hand and tapping him in the chest.

“Be careful where you point that thing.”

I smirk. “Thanks to you I know how to control it.”

“Well, now you got me thinking. If I let you leech me then that energy can be converted to power a water heater or furnace.”

“Sounds like we get to experiment.”

“Oh, I live for home improvement projects. And now I get to use my beloved as an energy source. It just keeps getting better.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

It’s mostly my fault that it’s dark while we try to pack up camp. We both scamper around trying to find lost objects. Rogue stumbles several times over the supplies I’ve absentmindedly left out or dropped.

“Sorry,” I say, when I back into him as he’s rolling up the tent. It’s like knocking into a brick wall.

In the moonlight I make out a soft smile on his face. “Not your fault.”

“That’s a lie,” I say, kneeling down to help him fold the tent into a neat square.

“I should just throw on the lantern and make our lives easier.”

“No, let’s not risk it,” I say. “We’re almost done. I’ll stay out of your way with my clumsy feet.”

He holds out his empty hand and a second later the bag for the tent appears there. With a wink he says, “I probably can do the clean-up a little easier on my own. Why don’t you pack your duffel bag since it’s the only thing we’re taking with us?”

“What are we doing with the rest of the supplies?”

“Hiding them in that oak tree,” he says, nodding to one in the distance. “We’ll need them on our return trip.”

The idea of returning simultaneously fills me with trepidation and excitement. I long to see Nona, to hear what Zack has learned, and to instigate a change. But there’s too much risk connected to each of those desires and I fear that my own thirst for vengeance will hurt people I love if I’m not careful. Just by getting myself caught I’d hurt those who care about me. And if I don’t get caught, but fail to strategize properly, then I’ll lose the advantage I have over President Vider right now. He doesn’t know what I know, what I can do, and that we’re organizing something with a potential to pull him out of office. And I know what my shortcoming is. I know what can be my undoing in all of this. My father. The blinding anger I have for him fills my head with erratic thoughts. Makes me impulsive. I fear that my desire for revenge against him will send me into an action that endangers everyone I love. I fear I’ll ruin our chances at justice just because I want to see my father suffer so badly. Revenge isn’t a healthy emotion. I know that. And right now it’s my fuel, but I fear it will burn too hot.

Somehow there are more things I need to stuff into my duffel bag than I have room for. The hike out of the Valley will only take a couple of hours, but still I think we should bring provisions for a day or so, just in case. I look up to catch the silhouette of Rogue carrying the tent on one shoulder and a bag of supplies on the other, managing them easily. Then his form buckles. Falls to the ground. Everything in his grasp tumbling to the ground.

The blankets! I left the stupid blankets out beside the tent and now Rogue has tripped on them. “I’m sorry,” I say, rushing to help and then freeze. The moonlight rains down on Rogue, giving me a glimpse that tells a different story than the one I concocted in my head. He’s dropped down on one bent knee. His head lies in his hands. The tent and supplies in front of him. The blankets a safe distance away. For a full ten seconds he’s quiet, gripping his hair in his fingers, unmoving.

“Rogue?” I take a few cautious steps in his direction.

He shakes his head, discouraging me from approaching, but I ignore him and kneel down a few inches away. Tattered breaths wheeze in and out of his mouth. They’re loud in the quiet forest air, but I know Rogue is using everything he has to suppress them. And then a groan escapes his mouth and it rips the caution I’d harbored away. I rush forward and catch his head in my hands just as he tumbles sideways. His form is huddled into a ball, one so large that the force of his head landing in my lap almost knocks me flat. I recover quickly and wrap my body around his head, cradling it.

Rogue’s head is against my abdomen and the rest of him lies in front of me. I hug him to me. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t push me away, as I expected. He cringes, but it’s from the pain. His face turns white and his hands stay clamped on either side of his head. I push his hair away from his face and hands. I lean down and into his ear I recite the only thing I know to say in this moment. “It’s all right, Rogue. I love you.” Over and over and over again I say these words to him. And he allows muffled screeches of pain from his mouth, sometimes loudly, but thankfully mostly softly. The pain in him somehow leaks into me and crushes parts of me in torturing ways. Rarely before have I had the misfortune to stand by and watch someone I love convulse with pain. I’m powerless to help him, yet witnessing his pain is compulsory.

After a few minutes his complaints turn to indecipherable mumbles. I allow him to squirm in my lap, holding him as still as I think will keep him calm. I slide down so I’m lying next to him and hold his head into my chest. I think his consciousness has gone, but then he reaches around my waist and wrenches me into him with a desperation that makes me actually smile awkwardly. “Rogue, it’s all right. I love you.”

And when he nods, I stiffen. He slides his face up until he’s looking straight into my eyes. His face is strained, but there’s an almost smile on it. “Rogue?” I say, wondering if he’s gone completely mad. “Are you all right?”

Too fast he rocks back into a sitting position. I follow suit, although without the same grace. Rogue looks at me like I’m a ghost or something else that’s real and also not. He’s kind of smiling, but also shaking his head like he’s mystified.

“What?” I say, feeling wrong for touching him while he was plagued by that headache, afraid he’s about to punish me for it.

“That’s the shortest headache I’ve ever had.” He shakes his head, his chaotic hair falling in his face. He slides it back into place, each of his movements careful like he’s afraid of his own body. “Somehow, you”—he points his gaze at me— “lessened my pain. You made it end prematurely.”

I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that I was here.”

“I’ve been getting those headaches for four years. They usually take me out for a full hour, but that one lasted less than ten minutes. That’s a first. Explain that, Em,” he says, leaning forward, close.

I attempt a smile that feels more like a stretched determined expression. “I-I-I—”

“You make me better,” he says, interrupting me. His laughter fills the air and almost rips the mask off my face. Then he pushes forward, encouraging me back until I’m lying flat. Rogue hovers just above me, a hungry look in his eyes. “Thank you, Em.” He leans in and kisses me. I expected it to be full of the animalistic emotion he seems to be harboring, but it’s soft and thoughtful. When he pulls away I smile at him, but again it doesn’t feel genuine.

“I’m glad it didn’t last long,” I say, feeling strange lying in the leaves with him over me in the dark.

“What you’re not saying is that it was you,” Rogue says, pushing up, and too quickly he’s standing and pulling me up with him. “But it was you. Somehow you make me better.”

“What? You’re saying it’s another gift of mine.”

He shakes his head. “Sometimes the best thing about us isn’t what we’re gifted with, but what we can make others feel just by our very nature of existing.”

“I’m not sure if I know what that means.”

He rubs the side of his head. “Nor I, but right now I’m grateful you exist in my world.” He grabs my hand and tugs me into him, wrapping me in his arms.

I smile and into his ear I say, “We’re still going to the labs.”

“Of course we are,” he says with more strength than a man should have who’s been through what he has just now. “I was just making a notable remark.”

“You’re really okay?” I say, stroking the hair off his forehead beaded with sweat.

“I’m better than I’ve ever been thanks to you.” He kisses me once upon the lips. I go in for another but he pushes away. “We’ve got something we’ve got to do.”

***

“We have to camouflage ourselves?” I ask in surprise.

“You already know what my father’s gift is. You should know why we have to do this.”

That makes sense now. I nod as Rogue traces a leaf sprayed in skunk juice down my arm. It makes my nose burn. Makes my stomach turn. And still I’m forced to smell it. “So that will cover our scents?”

“It confuses him, which hopefully will be enough.”

“Where did you get that?” I ask, directing my attention to the instrument he’s using to make me smell repulsive.

He angles his head down at me. “I have my sources.”

“Gross.”

“If you think this is bad, you get to detail me in skunk grossness next.”

“Can’t wait,” I say.

“Well, no need. I’m all done.”

He hands me another leaf, this one fresh with the scent of awfulness. “Seriously, where did you find this and how?”

“Call it a part of my gift,” he says with a smile.

“I’m calling bullshit, but it still smells like skunk,” I say, rubbing the leaf over his chest. “And it seems like you should be able to wipe yourself down without my help.”

He claps a hand over mine, stopping me. “Oh, well if you don’t want to do it then I will. I just thought…” He gives me an incredibly perfect pouty face.

“Oh, stop it.” I pull my hand from his and run the putrid leaf up around his shoulders. “It’s just you finally give me the opportunity to wipe you down and ask me to do it with skunk junk. Thanks.”

“Next time will be better,” he says, a heated look in his eyes.

“If you make me sponge bathe you with a dead fish then I’m going to call out your sick fetish.”

He grips my elbow and pulls me into him. “I only have one obsession and I’m looking at her right now.”

And even with the smell of skunk radiating off both our bodies I shiver from his words, have to hold myself back. My eyes shift back and forth between his and I ease my arm from his hand, sliding the leaf down his chest and around to his back. Anything I say won’t sound right. It will be too playful or too corny or too serious. Everything I want to say contradicts what we’re about to do, so I pretend I don’t feel anything and he hasn’t said something that makes me want to forget we’re facing mortal danger. I slide the leaf around his shoulder blade and down the length of his back.

“To the right,” Rogue says. “I’ve got an awful itch there.”

“Get a back scratcher,” I say, moving to his lower back. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“Just don’t see why you can’t kill two birds,” he says.

“Here, how does that feel?” I say, indulging him.

“Like you need to put your fingernails into it.”

I laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I mean the opposite of that, but right now you’re making me coat your body in skunk, so that’s how I feel.”

“I see you’re an ‘in the moment’ kinda girl.”

I swipe the leaf down the back of his leg and throw it on the ground. “Done.”

He turns and sniffs, grimaces and smiles. “Good job. Oh, and Em, I have something important I need you to do,” Rogue says, garnering my attention. “This one is going to be mighty difficult for you, but I need you not to speak when we’re at the labs. We need to use hand gestures as much as possible.”

“Why would not speaking be difficult for me?” I say.

He presses his mouth together and looks down at the ground as if he hasn’t heard me.

“Oh, shush it,” I say with a smile. “I know how to be quiet.”

“You’re not even quiet when you sleep,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I stash my duffel bag beside a tree that we’ll have to pass on our journey back from the labs. It’s not hidden, but we shouldn’t be gone long enough that anyone will stumble across it at this late hour. I want to be able to pick it up and sling it across my chest without stopping so I decide against burying it in brush.

Moving beside Rogue at a steady jog, I’m accosted by something that isn’t quite clear to me. It has to do with his pace. We’re running on the path, not concerned with passing anyone here since curfew started hours ago. The path will take us to the main plaza and from there the lab is only a half a mile. But moving beside Rogue seems strange. His movements make me doubt my own because he runs differently, like he’s not running at all. It almost seems as if he’s walking beside me and the faster I move the more he appears to be hardly moving to keep up with me.

Once we’re to the plaza I’m sucking in breaths, willing them to steady my racing heart. But Rogue doesn’t look as though he’s even broken a sweat. He tugs my hand and pulls me into a shadow. Now that we’re out of the park, we need to stay in the dark, sprinting when in the light. Knowing he’ll catch up with me easily I move off first, and instantly feel him at my back. The way he moves behind me is encouraging, makes me want to move faster just so I keep pace with him. This inspiration somehow delivers us to the lab quicker than I thought we’d be there.

The building, which looks like an ordinary storefront, is dark up front, but its back end is lit with security lights. This is where we’ll enter and also where it looks more like a warehouse that contains something huge and not as innocent as its meek front would suggest.

I turn back to Rogue, his features dark in these shadows. “Let’s just pop in there real quick,” I say.

“In and out,” he says, and just as I turn to fill the light with my presence he tugs me back. I freeze, afraid he’s stopping me from a danger I haven’t spied yet. He pulls my hand up to his shoulder and encourages it around. “Earlier when I had the headache. I had a premonition afterwards.”

I blink, trying to clear the dark between us so I can see him clearly. That’s right, after a headache he has several abilities at once briefly. Why didn’t he tell me about the premonition before now? “What?” I breathe. “What did you see?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m afraid if I do I’ll change everything,” he says.

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because I think there’s something you need to know,” Rogue says. I try to pull my hands away from his neck. He tenses and slaps a hand down on them, keeping me latched on to him. “I haven’t told you something about me. When you figure it out, I want you to use it to our advantage.”

“Rogue, what does that mean?” I say, pulling my hands off him and this time he allows it.

“Em, if I thought telling you the future would help I would, but I think this advantage comes only if you discover everything on your own.”

I shake my head at him. “You’re making me want to slap you right now.”

He pushes his face in close to mine. Challenges me with a defiant look. “Slap me, baby.”

I shake my head and turn. Pause for half a second and sprint into the bright overhead light.

The beeps the keypad sings after I press each number sounds too loud. I picture my father can hear it from our house a mile away. After the six-number code is entered the lock releases with a sharp click. The heavy side door shuts behind us with a gentle clunk. Ahead of us the long corridor is dark, lit by dim floorboard lights. There are more lab rooms than I realized. At least ten doors line this hallway. The meds could be in any of them and even then there are probably a dozen hallways just like this.

“I’ll search this room,” I mouth without a sound, pointing to the first one. “You take that one.” I indicate the one opposite. My hand is on the cold handle when at lightning speed Rogue’s arm blocks me and he turns me so I’m facing him. I’m frozen, staring up at his face which is arranged into an angry glare.

“No,” he hisses, a flare of fury in his word. Then I realize it’s not anger in his face but crazed worry.

“Rogue I’ll just be in the next room—”

He leans in so close that he’s whispering directly into my ear. “Em, I don’t care if this takes all night. You’re staying with me. That was the plan and we aren’t changing it.”

I pull to the side and stare back up at him. I want to shake my head, but as if he senses it he catches my chin and brings his mouth close to my ear again. “If anything happens, I want to be by your side.”

I nod against his face. “Fine,” I mouth.

Rogue turns at once and pushes into the first room, pulling me in behind him. I already knew it was unoccupied by peering through the window in the door, but I didn’t realize how unbelievably disorganized it is. It clouds my mind. Overwhelms the mission.

I’m just about to start searching cabinets when Rogue holds up a hand, stopping me. He shakes his head and points back at the door we just came through.

So not this room.

He leads me back out and down the hallway. When we arrive at the next door he pokes his head through and cranes it around. Then he backs out and shakes his head at me. Maybe he’s already searched these rooms. Or maybe he’s looking for something to match the premonition he saw. I wish he would have explained it to me. I don’t like the idea of fulfilling some destiny that I have to blindly walk into. What if I don’t make the right decisions? What if I don’t understand his cryptic words? What if I get us caught?

After he’s poked his head into every room on this hallway, he leads me up to the second floor through the stairwell. His every movement is quick, with a strange precision. Everything, from the way he reaches for a door handle, to the angle of his head as he searches the area around us, has a unique grace. I can’t pinpoint what it reminds me of, but it’s reminiscent of something.

When we reach the hallway on the second floor, Rogue’s back straightens. He’s sensed something. I’ve found that just by watching him, I understand my surroundings better than if I actually took them in properly with my own eyes.

As he has with all the other rooms he pokes his head through a doorway and scans. I half expect him to close the door and lead me down the hallway. Instead he strides into the room, pulling me in behind him. “Here we go,” he says, walking directly into the room, confidence in each step.

“They’re in here?” I ask. He shakes his head. “No, but they will be.”

“What does that mean?” He’s hardly even whispering anymore, so I quit as well.

“Trust me,” he says. And strangely any complaint stays tucked in my mouth. Those two words send away all my hesitation. Of course I trust him. I step into the room mimicking his confident steps. It looks similar to the other ones I’ve seen. Lab tables sit in the center, cluttered with various objects. Cabinets line the walls. On the far side of the room is another door leading to another identical room. Rogue leads us in that direction. I almost bump into him when he stops. His hand points to a bottom cabinet which faces the back wall. “Search that one. I’ll look up top,” he says.

I nod and kneel down, opening the cabinet to reveal a hundred or so medicine bottles. All at once my eyes take in every label and I know the right meds aren’t here. I’m about to move to the next cabinet when I’m distracted by Rogue, who’s standing just in front and beside me, not moving. He’s not searching. Not doing a thing. He stands frozen. Staring. A hostile anticipation in his eyes.

I shuffle my feet underneath me, about to stand, when the door we entered through pushes open, hardly making a sound. I duck down low, my ears prickling from the patter of the soft-soled shoes on the linoleum floor, the sound of fabric rustling against fabric as the person who enters the room moves. His breath is like a steady stream of quick breaths. And I’m quite certain he had summer squash and goat cheese for dinner. All this information floods into my mind as Rogue’s words fill the air.

“Hello, Father. I’ve been expecting you.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Hello, Rogue,” President Vider says, that familiar growl in his voice a little more gravelly.

Beside me Rogue’s heartbeat speeds up. He swallows a lump in his throat. I hear skin run against skin and look up to see him rubbing his thumb against his fingers. I spy the pores on the back of his hands, the knitting of his shirt, tiny specks of dust on the floor on the other side of him. My eyes are like telescopes, zooming in and out at will. Again I have hyper senses. President Vider’s gift.

“Don’t you want to give your dear father a hug?” President Vider says, amusement in his voice. “We’ve been parted for so long. How good it is to finally see my son.”

He moves a step and a half into the room. He rustles a hand into his pocket. “I’ve missed my boy. And here you are, all grown up. And how much you have grown, Rogue. You’re as strong as an ox.”

“Give them to me,” Rogue says, his voice flat, unaffected.

“Oh, no hugs?” President Vider says, taking another step forward, running his hands along the marble countertop. My eyes are trained on the dark corner in front of me; even so, I perceive all of this and know my senses are drawing an accurate picture for me.

“You know why I’m here. Give me what I want,” Rogue says.

“How about we talk about what I want. There are a few things. For starters, I want to know where you’ve been.” President Vider sniffs the air. “In the woods, no doubt, and obviously without real plumbing. Tell me, son, have you found your years outside the society to be pleasurable? Or have you missed the comforts you took for granted?”

Rogue slams his palm down on the countertop. “Do you have the meds?”

“In fact, I do. I’m hiding them,” President Vider says in an almost playful tone.

“Give them to me before I kill you.”

President Vider laughs; it’s a deep booming sound. “I’ll show you what I’m hiding, if you show me what you’re hiding. Because in this room I count, one…two…three heartbeats.”

My eyes flick up, but Rogue’s back is still facing away from me. “Show me the meds first. Then I’ll show you who I’m hiding.”

“Oh, you were always so tiresome. So irritating with your negotiations.” Fabric bristles. An object moves against the fabric. A medicinal odor hits me, one full of chemicals which is reminiscent of the injections.

“This is what you were looking for, right?” President Vider says. He shakes the bottle I’m sure he’s holding between his fingertips, the capsules in it clanging around the plastic. “This is why you invade my valley with your filth?”

“Yes, and haven’t you wondered what my gift is, Father?” Rogue asks.

“No, I don’t wonder about you, but to hope you’re dying alone in a ditch. Imagine my disappointment at seeing you here now.”

I almost stand and charge the President, but somehow force myself to stay crouched as I know Rogue wants me.

“I imagine you’re in store for more disappointment, then,” Rogue says. “This will not be your night.”

And I hear the clang of the capsules as they clink against the plastic bottle followed by silence. A gasp from the President’s mouth. And then an object collides with Rogue’s hand.

“You really should have cared, Father, what my gift was. Otherwise you wouldn’t have showed an apportational the object they most desired,” Rogue says.

The President grinds his teeth. “Nice trick, boy. You can keep your meds. It’s a fantastic exchange for what you’re harboring on the other side of that cabinet.”

From the door closest to us, I hear movement. Thunderous footsteps. I want to reach out for Rogue, warn him somehow, but I know I shouldn’t break his concentration on his father.

“There will be no exchange,” Rogue says, drumming his fingers on the bottle.

A tired breath shoots out of President Vider’s nostrils. “Stand up, Em Fuller. I want to see you.”

Rogue’s eyes finally cast down on me. He gives the slightest nod and I push up at once and turn to face the President, trying to also keep my attention on the approaching presence. However, at the sight of President Vider my focus crumbles. The wicked grin on his face makes a shiver escape my lips. He’s wearing a black suit, his hair the same color and perfectly parted on the side and pushed back in a neat arrangement. The smile twitches on his face. He sniffs the air. “Oh yes, I heard your heartbeat, knew you were here, but I smelled you first.” Again he takes in another inhalation, like he’s smelling a rose. “Even with the camouflage my son so cleverly put on you I still smelled the sweet essence that is Em Fuller. It’s delicious.” He licks his top lip from one corner to the next. “Rogue, before I tell you about my big plans for Em, let me introduce you to Maurice.”

From the doorway behind us a teenager who’s almost seven feet tall steps in. He ducks his bald head under the doorway as he enters. He’s wearing a gray suit. “Maurice came to me shortly after you abandoned me, Rogue. And he’s been ever so useful for dealing with those who stepped out of line. I really wish he would have been here for you as a child, maybe then you wouldn’t have been so disobedient.”

“Father, what does this have to do with us?” Rogue says, eyeing Maurice, who blocks the doorway on one end of the room and then swinging his head around to President Vider, who blocks the other exit. “Just step aside and let us leave. We don’t want trouble.”

“Oh, but I believe you do. And you aren’t going anywhere with Em. That’s why Maurice is here. She belongs to me now and he’s going to ensure that she goes home with me.” President Vider turns and looks directly at me, his eyes reminding me of a ravenous wolf. “You see, I think before you become a poster child for the Defects, you should be tied to the post of my bed. How does that—”

Rogue rushes forward, so quickly his motions blur. But simultaneously Maurice lunges out and claps a single hand down on his shoulder. Rogue’s in the process of deflecting it when he drops in a series of convulsions, pain screaming in his voice. A single touch from Maurice and he appears to be frying from the inside.

“Rogue!” I say and rush forward, but Maurice throws out an outstretched hand. I halt inches from the splayed fingers, eyeing them and then Maurice’s threatening stare. He has Rogue pinned on the ground, his hand hovering a few inches from his neck, his other hand extended to me.

“You see, my dear sweet, Em,” President Vider says, taking a step in closer to me. “Maurice’s touch is lethal. It’s quite the unique gift. An embrace from him would stop the heart of his lover. Poor boy hasn’t been hugged since he hit puberty, but I’ve loved him the best I can, given him a job. I do care about my people. Aren’t I kind?”

I step away from Rogue and Maurice lowers his hand. Anger boiling my insides, I turn and face the President. “Your manipulation doesn’t work on me.”

“No, I see it doesn’t.” He steps forward, reaches out, and almost strokes a single finger down my dirty cheek, but stops himself, holds back. “And I do love a challenge. And more than that I love that you, my pet, are going to encourage an entire population of Defects to rush toward their fate.”

“Why would I do that? Even if you convert me, I won’t be happy about it. Promote it for your evil agenda,” I say, disbelieving the rebellious tone I’m daring to take against the President.

“Oh, my fine young lady, you seem to think I’d leave you with the memories you have now.” He shakes his head, his eyes trailing over me, making me want to step behind the counter again to shield myself from his prying gaze. “First you’ll be converted to Middling and then your memories will be receded using the modifier. You’ll believe what you’re told, as you should have from the beginning. I do love the opportunity to create model citizens. And I love that I’m giving you a chance at redemption.”

Down on the ground, Rogue lies, flinching from his recent pain. His eyes connect with mine and I want to drop to my knees and shield him from anything Maurice can do to him. But his eyes seem to be communicating a different message to me. “Let him up,” I say, my eyes firmly on President Vider.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” the President says.

I turn and take in the scene at my back. Maurice hovers over the prone Rogue who is unable to negotiate a single inch without being touched by him. I’m too far from Maurice. Five feet. I take a few steps backward and President Vider holds up a hand. “Stay away from my son.”

“You lost the right to call him that,” I say and take another step backwards.

“Maurice,” President Vider says, and the giant pain-inducer places his fingertips to Rogue’s cheek, making him jerk wildly and scream out like he’s on fire suddenly.

“No,” I yell, but remain frozen.

“Isn’t that the way it always is,” President Vider says, “you hurt the ones you love by trying to help them. That’s my unfortunate plight. I tried to help my poor son, make him a usable member of this society, but he didn’t appreciate my efforts. But you, Em, it’s not too late for you. You’ll have the distinct honor of being the poster child for Defects. I gave you that honor. You will prove to them that they have a salvation. They will worship you. And I assure you that honor is better than anything my son has promised you.”

“Freedom! That’s better than my freedom?!” I yell.

“Em, don’t be goaded by him. Just ignore him,” Rogue says from the ground, his voice shaky.

President Vider gives a minute nod to his minion. Maurice pokes Rogue, sending him into a series of screaming howls.

“Stop!” I scream. “I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever it is you want.” My hands vibrate by my side. “Just let him up. Let me look at him and say goodbye.” And President Vider nods at Maurice, who motions to Rogue. And he shuffles to a standing position. I look at Rogue and open my mouth to say something, to apologize, but then I feel his thoughts in my mind. A thought I know is his. Gods above,
Em, you’re beautifully impossible. I smile at him and round on the door just as my father enters.

Chapter Thirty-Six

My father strolls into the room, a coolness in his self-satisfied expression. He takes the place next to President Vider, unbuttons his pin-striped jacket, and slides his hand into his pocket, not even making eye contact with me. He removes a watch on a gold chain and then slips it back.

“As Lyza foretold, they’re right on time,” my father says to the President, looking at him with a prideful expression. My own mother. She’s the one who told them when we’d be here. She must have seen it with her clairvoyance. Damn bitch.

“Father?” I say, waiting for him to look at me with his crisp blue eyes. Finally he brings his gaze to mine, an indignant look on his face. He always seems too young, with his polished look and head full of blond hair. He ages, but not enough. Not enough to feel like he’s that much older than me. It’s wrong and I hate that about him. I hate how he makes everything feel wrong.

“Em, did you really think you were going to get away from being converted?” He looks at me with a sneer, his nostrils flaring. Oh gods, she stinks, I hear him think.

“And you’re wearing entirely too much cologne,” I say, pulling my chin down low to my chest. I sniff the air once. “Oh, and a bit of perfume too, but that’s not the kind mother wears.”

My father’s eyes widen with horror. “Why did you say that? Where did that come from?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I say.

How does she know I smell like a perfume? I changed my jacket, it should have been enough.

“It wasn’t,” I say, with a guilty smile.

“Why did you say that?” my father says.

What kind of game is she playing? he thinks in his head.

“The kind you’ve played on me my entire life,” I say.

He raises a knowing eyebrow, a wicked grin on his face. So you’re telepathic? Well, congratulations, but very soon it won’t matter, he thinks.

Oh, yes, I’m telepathic, as well as other things, I say in my mind.

He tapers his eyes at me. What else?

You’ll find out, I think.

“Em,” he says out loud, a strange edge to his voice, a bit of nervousness escaping. “Tell me what other gifts you have.”

“Damien,” President Vider says, snapping my father’s attention on him, “what’s going on?”

“It appears my daughter has inherited my main gift.”

“Oh,” President Vider says, sounding pleased. “So you’ll know exactly what I want, when I want it, won’t you, Em? This keeps getting better.”

No! Behind me I hear Rogue’s heart pound faster, louder. I turn and give him an encouraging look.

“Don’t worry, Rogue,” President Vider says, sensing the rise in tension in his son, the same as me. “We have plans for you too. You’ll be converted and your memories receded. The people of Austin Valley will be so touched when my son returns to me, after being lost for so long. And after I’m done with Em, you two can live in some awful Middling dwelling, where you can be complacent and serve us as you were intended.”

I flash a look at Rogue again, but it’s Maurice’s round face that catches my attention. There’s a confused expression on it. But I thought I was supposed to kill him tonight, the ogre thinks.

I turn with a slow stealth and face my father.

He shrugs, a relaxed grin on his face. Oops.
Now you know. “Em,” he says out loud, “I want you to come here. This time you won’t be escaping conversion.”

The little girl in me cowers. The old subservience overtakes me, the one I’ve been plagued by since childhood. My feet move forward, like I don’t control them, but he does.

Down the hallway, far off, a door clinks. I stop, focus my attention on it and the tiny noises that follow. Someone shuffles into a room. Moves multiple metal objects, placing them on a metal tray. Their breath smells of barley and plantains. They haven’t showered since this morning. And they walk with a slight limp.

I raise my eyes to my father’s just as President Vider says, in a delighted growl, “Dr. Sanders is ready for her?” he says, looking confused, having heard the same noises I did. “But I thought we were going to wait to do her conversion tomorrow.”

My father shakes his head at me, his face slack. “I want it done now. You can do what you like afterwards. Kill her for all I care.”

“Oh, no, she’s way too valuable to our campaign,” the President says.

Instinctively I back up. My eyes flick in the direction of where I hear this doctor preparing to convert me. I’m scanning for options. My eyes take in thousands of objects all at once, a dozen possibilities occurring to me. “Maurice plans to kill Rogue, but how do you plan to take me?” I say.

President Vider shakes his head, clicks his tongue. “I’d never kill my dearest son,” he says. Lies. “But if you don’t consent to follow us then I will have him tortured.” He flicks his eyes at Maurice and nods, such a subtle movement, but instantly Rogue wails behind me and I almost lose the ability to hold myself up. His pain is so distinct in his cries, more so than when he’s been plagued by the headaches.

I’m growing more into my gift, and suddenly surrounded by Dream Travelers I feel all the distinct powers around me. With the need to survive and protect leading my motivation, I feel everyone’s abilities at my fingertips. President Vider’s enhanced senses and my father’s telepathy are strongest right now because they use their gifts automatically, like breathing. But I believe the other gifts, Rogue’s apportation and Maurice’s killing touch, are at my disposal too. And still I sense other powers around me, and I don’t know what they all are, although I sense someone has the gift to shield, because I know I’m easily keeping my father out of my head right now, only feeding him the thoughts I want him to hear. It’s easier to shield him than ever before. Behind me Rogue groans again, this one a guttural sound.

I spin and face Maurice. “Stop! Don’t touch him again or I’ll kill you.”

In front of me my father laughs, one full of ridicule. President Vider joins in with him. “Em, do you really think that you can pull something out of this young man’s thoughts that will help your cause, let alone give you the opportunity to kill him? You’re out of options. So admit defeat and come with me now.”

“As you wish,” I say and step forward, my hands loose by my side, my head giddy with the opportunity to have close proximity to my father. I’ll take him hostage, leeching Maurice’s powers. I’ll get Rogue out of this.

Behind me I hear an object slip out of Rogue’s pocket. The air swishes by the sides of the container as it falls. I twist around and seize it with my eyes before it’s even touched the ground. The bottle of meds clatters to the tile floor and rolls off under a cabinet, but I spy it easily. My reflexes when I turned around had been strange, too fast. Like how I’d spied Rogue moving when we first entered the lab.

Rogue doesn’t look remorseful, but rather has a cunning look on his pained face, held hostage by Maurice standing too close beside him. “Oops,” he says, “I’m such a damn klutz. Maurice, you mind picking up those pills for me? I’ve got a migraine coming on.”

I have no idea what he’s up to or why he doesn’t look perturbed by the fact that he’s lost the meds we came here for. Maurice shakes his head at him. I turn back around to my father, but his eyes are not on Rogue, they’re studying me. He pushes his heel into the ground, a tiny movement, but I notice it before it even happens, having telegraphed his move. President Vider’s eyes flick down to his heel too. My father rubs the heel against the linoleum, making the slightest of movements, creating the slightest of irritating noises. Instantly it soaks up my attention. Soaks up the President’s.

“Why are you doing that?” the President asks.

Because, my father thinks.

And then he rubs his fingers together. My eyes flick to them. So do President Vider’s. He stops, rubs his fingers together on the other hand. Instantly my eyes are there.

Too late I realize what’s he’s doing. I rush forward.

My father holds up his hand. “Stay away from me, Em.”

“You told me to come with you,” I say, continuing forward.

My father looks at Maurice. Nods. Instantly Rogue screams out in pain.

“Stop!” I say, freezing in place. “Stop!”

“Don’t come a step farther, Em,” my father says. “Actually I’d feel more comfortable if you backed up a few steps.”

“Like the President said to me earlier,” I say, gritting my teeth together, “I don’t think you’re in a position to make requests.”

He raises a single eyebrow at me, nods his head again, and Rogue’s scream makes me crumble. Why do I think I can win at their game? I’ve already lost. Obviously. Okay, fine, you win, I think and hold up my hands in surrender.

“Well, well, well. How extremely interesting. It appears that my daughter is a leech,” my father says with almost a hint of pride in his voice.

Alarm registers on President Vider’s face. “Oh gods!” he says, taking three steps back.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“That’s right,” I say, taking a step forward. “I’m a leech.” I leech the energy out of Maurice, feel it tingle on my fingertips. Hold it in my hand with a new confidence. I reach out both my hands to the President. “Still want me?”

“Stay away,” the President says, a sneer in his voice.

“I read your thoughts. I hear your heartbeat. And I can make you feel a lot of pain,” I say, angling my head over my shoulder at Maurice.

“You forget,” President Vider says, with a growl, “that we still have control here.” A tiny nod and behind me I know what I’ll hear next.

I whip around and face Maurice, again my movements like that of a cat’s or more appropriately a cheetah’s. Quick. Efficient. “Stop!” I yell. After a delay he does. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do what they say.”

The boy—I call him that because he’s younger than me—looks at me with strange, sad eyes. After a quick perusal of his thoughts I realize that he does. He absolutely has to do everything that President Vider says. Where does my advantage lie if they can torture and kill Rogue and I’m unable to stop it, even having all of their abilities? I need to have something they want, to hold it over their head, but I don’t know what that is. From below the cabinet I spy the white bottle peek back at me. I’m not sure why, and I know that it robs him of energy, but I still leech Rogue, apportioning the bottle of meds into my hands and then slipping it into my pocket. If we get out of this, then we’ll need these.

My eyes flick to Rogue’s, which are rimmed in pain, but still looking relieved for some reason. Thank you. Now take my other gift, he thinks.

Other? I think to myself. I don’t know what he means so I turn and face our fathers, who look like they’ve backed up a few paces.

“I want you to let Rogue go,” I say. “If you do then I won’t race forward and put you both in debilitating pain.”

“If you take a single step forward, then Rogue will die,” President Vider says too matter-of-factly.

My father shakes his head at me, a dismissive look. He slips a phone out of his inside jacket pocket and holds it to his face. “Send in unit eleven to the second floor of the labs.” Without another word he drops the phone into his pocket. It simultaneously terrifies and frustrates me that I can’t find the upper hand. I have the skill of every person in this room and still I can’t overpower my father.

He smiles, having sensed my thoughts. “That’s right, Em. Read our thoughts, sense everything around us, use Rogue’s apportational ability, but know that we still control you, because we have what you want. You can have it all, but you’re still powerless against us. And soon, you’ll be even more powerless.” He nods again and Rogue screams. Fury wraps around my head, constricting my rationality. If you hurt him again I’m going to sprint forward and kill you.

“He’ll die too,” my father says in response to the words in my head. “Will it be worth it then?”

President Vider eyes my father and then me, realizing he’s missing parts of conversations between us. “Enough of this. It’s time you’re relieved of this gift and all the pressures it puts on you. So sad you ended up being so powerful because I was really looking forward to your company tonight.”

And my father, who should have looked sickened by such a thing, doesn’t make a single grimace. You’re a sicko, I think at him.

And you’re a slow learner. He glances at Maurice and again Rogue howls with pain. My legs weaken, my body weight falling forward, and I almost tumble to my knees. But right before my knees hit the ground I hear Rogue’s voice in my head.

NO! DON’T!

My reflexes catch me with a strength I don’t own and pull me back up to a standing position. I turn to the person who I hear in my head. Rogue stares at me, looking half drunk but also determined. He rights himself to a full standing position.

Watch, Rogue thinks at me. And I do, taking in every ounce of him like I’m about to never see him again. I see his form as it is to me, perfect and strong and full of a grace which seems like it belongs to the gods. And then it hits me like a bullet in the chest. I watch him again swipe his hand across his hair, so fast that without President Vider’s gift of sight I would have missed it. Would have never seen his hand move away from his side. I watch the way his feet shift and realize what I missed before. I realize he’s giving me a display. To be able to see Rogue in that light is a gift in itself.

Now I know what Rogue’s other ability is. I know why he can’t use it to his favor, with Maurice too close to him. But I also recognize how I could employ it if given the right opportunity.

My father, who I realize only sees a fraction of his world because he’s trained on thoughts, watches me with a quiet annoyance. President Vider watches the hallway behind them as well as my every movement, afraid I’m about to turn Maurice’s gift on them.

“Soon,” my father says, “this ugly mess will be over with.”

“Because I’ll have killed you all and you’ll be hanging out in hell,” I say.

He shakes his head at me. “Em, if you want to leave then do it. We all know you have that power, but we also know that if you do Rogue will die, and if you try and attack us using Maurice’s skill then Rogue will die. So will you please stop with the threats, because they’re quite tiresome?”

“Oh, and after the long day you’ve had screwing your secretary, I’m sure this is too much,” I say.

Don’t say that!

“Come and stop me, Father.”

“And this is exactly why you were put on the Defect list, Em,” my father says, looking at me with a tired expression.

“Yeah, kudos for trying to exterminate the Defects,” I say.

“It’s not an attempt. It will happen,” the President says with a conceited knowing.

“What about these new Dream Travelers you’re recruiting into the Valley? Aren’t you afraid they may be Defects?”

“We screen them,” the President says.

“And what about all these ideas they have of the outside world?” I ask, stalling.

The President gives me a delighted look. “We recede most of their memories using the modifier. An especially useful technology. They have no memory of any outside influences.” His smile resembles a wolf with its hackles pulled up high. He also looks pleased, like he’s halfway to a feast.

I deflate, realizing how much further ahead they are than I realized.

Yes, that’s right, Em. There’s no stopping us, my father thinks.

“You know, I realize you have reinforcements coming, which I think is cute, since the three of you can’t handle me on your own,” I say. “But you do understand that I could just drain you all to death?”

President Vider laughs. “That would take all night.”

“You’re wrong,” I say, “I’ve drained—”

“Those who aren’t pregnant or sick aren’t as easily affected,” my father says in a tired voice, having read my thoughts.

Tammy’s pregnant? Rogue is sick? What? I shake my head at him.

Oh, didn’t you know? my father says in his mind.

I hate his answers. They make me feel like I’m constantly on the losing end of this battle, when I have every advantage. I keep listening for these reinforcements. So does President Vider. They aren’t in the building yet.

I should make my move now, but the problem is that using a skill of this sort before practicing it in a setting like this isn’t just dangerous, it is a lunatic move. And still so perfectly do I know what Rogue intends me to do. I know the skill he intends me to leech. I keep buying time. Delaying.

“You know, Dad,” I say and watch him cringe. He always made us call him Father.
“You’re downright evil. That’s not a judgment of you as my father, but rather a judgment of your thoughts. You make me sick.” I turn to President Vider. “And your thoughts are wicked and could easily put you behind bars. One day, I’ll make sure the Reverians know the truth about what you did.” And finally I turn and angle myself so I’m looking half at Maurice, but still have my father and the President in my eyesight. “And you, well, you’re just a minion who’s been brainwashed and are under mind control.”

I turn back to the President and take a step forward, which sends both men in front of me stumbling backwards. “I realize now why you really created the Defect list. It’s not just because we threaten your authority, it’s because we have a gene inside us that prevents us from being put under your mind control. And how can you rule people who don’t do everything you make them? It’s nice to sense everything, but even better to control people. Too bad you can’t control everyone.”

“You will suffer for this,” the President says.

“You have to catch me first,” I say, and using the gift I just realized Rogue owns I race to Maurice in less than a quarter of a second. My feet hardly touch the ground. I feel myself blur across the space. Both my hands seize one of Maurice’s, which is easily the size of my head. Instantly I’m incapacitated by a shock so jarring it makes my teeth hurt. His face registers the same pain. But not the same pain. More. Between our skin to skin touch we suffer a double burn. His eyes widen as I push more of his power at him, having leeched a great deal of it while I stalled. Stored it for this moment. And still only a couple of seconds have passed. And then Maurice drops to the ground like a great ship sinking. His eyes wide open. Unmoving. He’s dead.

I almost pass out from the pain still surging through my limbs. Rogue reaches out for me, but then halts. Knowing I have to, I leech his power to move at rapid speed and dash out the door behind us, just catching the look of horror on my father’s face as his slow eyes take in what just happened. Behind me Rogue moves at the same pace. A super human one. The space around me blurs as I shoot through room after room and finally to a back hallway. I’m moving like I do during dream travel. Like I’m a roller coaster. Moving like this, beside Rogue, feels incredible. Like we’re two lions in a jungle, each movement so precise it makes my heart pause.

I don’t leech any more from Rogue after I leave the lab room. And soon I know this speed which is granting us a serious advantage will dissipate. We sprint down the stairwell, through a different hallway, to a set of double doors. The whole time I’m aware of the energies around me, the people. But none are dangerous. None are leechable. We break into a giant warehouse full of stacked boxes. It’s only halfway through that that Rogue’s energy leaks out of me and I slow until I’m moving at my usual pace. He passes me and then circles back when he realizes I’m no longer at his side.

“Take more,” he says, walking by me as I jog.

“No. You’ll need it,” I say.

“We just need to get out of here,” he implores.

“No. We have a long journey back. You need your energy.” And I worry about what my father said. About Rogue being more affected by my leeching.

“Fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your other gift?” I say.

“It just came out recently. Like really came out,” Rogue says. “I’ve always been strong and had good stamina but it came out on my way into the Valley this trip and I hadn’t had a real chance to practice and hone it yet, well, not until now.”

“But you knew it was there,” I say as we round a corner. “And you didn’t tell me.”

He gives me a sideways smile. “If I would have then you would have overthought that moment. You wouldn’t have done it so perfectly. Escaped so wonderfully.”

“How can you know?”

“Because I saw the future,” Rogue says with a devilish smile.

“We have a lot to discuss. Let’s go.”

I chance touching his arm, hoping the gift I leeched from Maurice is completely gone. He smiles. Grabs my hand and we run. Taking off even faster, him pulling, almost dragging me. We swing around corners, trying to find our way out of this too big warehouse. Several times we backtrack, finding dead end after dead end.

Finally a door. I push through it and into a two-story room. Cold stings my skin. The temperature in this space is at least ten degrees colder than the warehouse, which was already frigid with its metal walls and concrete floors. Server cases stand in rows upon rows in front of us. Blue radiance shines from them, providing the only light in the room. Above the terminals a metal catwalk crisscrosses around the room, wires snaking along its belly.

What is this place? What in the world are they trying to control with this all? I turn once. Twice. Three times, trying to determine which way to run. It’s a maze of rows which stretch for as far as I can see.

“Do you sense a way out of this?” Rogue asks, staring around.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re Ms. Badass,” he says.

“No.” I shake my head. “Maybe you should scout ahead? Do your cheetah move and find the exit.”

He gives me a punishing look. “You know damn well I’m not leaving you.”

I nod, having expected that answer. The good news is that I think I’ll sense my father or the reinforcements if they close in on us. I take cautious steps and angle my head around the first row of cases, which stand taller than Maurice.

Maurice. Guilt prickles my throat. Threatens to close it up. I shake off the feeling, but not entirely.

The rows stretch for twenty feet, with short breaks between them and the next. In the dim light it’s hard to see the wall on the far side of the room, but I think I almost do. I grab Rogue’s hand. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

Disappointment unravels in my stomach when we reach the darkened wall to find no exit. And ahead of us stretches the same row of servers, one after another. Too many rows to count. My eyes strain in the blue light.

On my next step I’m assaulted by an intense burning in my chest. It doubles me over. Steals my breath.

“Em.” Rogue races back, pulling me upright. “What is it?”

Both my hands press against my chest. Press against the burning. My heart feels ready to explode. And I try to say something, but I can’t speak past the pain. He grips my neck and tips my head back, looking deep into my eyes. Searching my face. “Gods, you’re burning up, Em. What’s happened to you?”

I blow out a hot breath. Feel it so acutely against the cold of the room. I shake my head at Rogue, as the corners of my vision start to darken.

Again he’s studying me, his face blanketed with confusion. Finally a determined look takes over his features and he sweeps me into his arms. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” my father says, his voice coming from up high, his pale face swimming into my vision.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Rogue halts. We both turn our faces up to where my father and President Vider stand on the catwalk above us. Seeing the sniveling grins on their faces sends my adrenaline into overdrive. It takes over the intensity building in my chest. Clears my vision. I squirm until Rogue releases me from his arms, standing me upright. His hands stay clasped on my shoulders. My father leans on the railing of the catwalk, his knuckles white. President Vider stands, feet shoulder width apart, hands casually clasped behind his back.

“You killed someone, Em,” my father says, shaking his head with slight disappointment like I’ve done something trivial.

“You made me!” I scream up to him. And although I’m still roasting, my anger is giving me strength over the ailment that’s recently zapped by chest with pain.

President Vider sighs. “Don’t you see what a danger you are to other people? Don’t you see why we gave you the injections all along? You thought we were trying to control you, but we’re just trying to protect innocent people. People would suffer if Defects like you and Rogue were free to have your gifts.”

“Father, I do believe you’ve brainwashed yourself into believing that,” Rogue says, his voice filling up the large room. “But you can’t warp us.”

I focus on my father. Try to reach into his thoughts and come up short. I scan the room, trying to use President Vider’s gift to find an exit. Nothing comes. All I feel is Rogue’s power inside him at my access.

“We’re too far away,” my father says with a satisfied grin.

“What?”

“You can’t leech us from this far back,” my father says. “And if you continue to leech Rogue after his ordeal and with his condition you’ll kill him. It’s time to stop acting irrationally and surrender to the conversion we all know is inevitable.”

I hate the confidence in his voice. I hate that I’m half nodding in agreement to my father’s words. I hate that he still has a leash on me somehow.

“Why don’t you come down here and get us?” Rogue says, sounding slightly amused. “We’ll wait for you. Promise.”

“Mr. Vider, do you take me for an idiot?” my father says.

“Quite frankly, yes,” Rogue says, a sideways smile on his lips. “Which is why my father chose you as his Chief of Staff. Idiots are easy to control. They think the way he tells them to.”

“Well, while you’ve satisfied your ego berating me, we’ve trapped you,” my father says, threading his arms across his chest, looking victorious. The whites of eyes all around us pop out of the darkness as men approach from the shadows. Dozens of men. All wearing jeans and T-shirts. Middlings. Their slack faces take on a sinister look in the blue light. “Who’s the idiot now?” my father says, his chin down, eyes treacherous.

I step in closer to Rogue. His arm tightens around my waist. Twenty men, maybe more, inch in closer to us, forming a tight circle. The men appear cautious, and also driven, taking calculated short steps.

“They’ve come to take you back to where you belong,” President Vider says, leaning over the rails.

Rogue holds up his hands. “Look, guys,” he says, swinging his head around, speaking to the men crowding us, “we don’t want trouble.”

“These exceptionally loyal Middlings know you are trouble,” the President says, his voice laced with that persuasion he uses to brainwash. “They know you are their downfall and if allowed free you’ll destroy the Valley they’ve grown to love. My fine citizens will not allow terrorists to endanger their lives. Isn’t that right, men?”

A collective and low “Yes” hums from the men’s lips.

“And the best part is, Em, you can’t leech a Middling. You’re powerless against them,” President Vider says, drawing his chest up high. “And Rogue, you can fight them, but even you can’t defeat twenty-five men. You two are done and soon you’ll both be converted. Soon you’ll be like these Middlings, who succumb to my rule.”

“And that’s what you’ve always wanted from us, isn’t it!” I yell, my anger making me shake all over. The burning returns to my core, but not like before. It’s a pulsing supremacy, and it’s uncontrollable, as though it’s about to overpower me. “You want to control us. You want to think for us. But I will die before I allow that.”

“I don’t really see what the problem is,” my father says rather coolly. “You’ve always been more Middling than Dream Traveler. I would think you’d be grateful that we’re putting you with your people.”

“Why don’t you read my mind if you want to know what I think about it,” I say.

“You’re so uncivilized, Em. This is the grave you have dug. Get over it,” my father says.

The men approach faster; they’re only ten feet away. Nine feet. Eight. Close enough that I recognize faces from the fields. Men I’ve worked alongside. “Dean!” I say, grateful to see his kind eyes staring back at me. But there’s something different in them. An uncertainty maybe. “I’m not a bad person, Dean. You have to help us. It’s the President who can’t be trusted.”

His face contorts with confusion. He pauses. The men around him halt too.

“It was the President who killed your—”

“Don’t listen to her,” President Vider says. “She’s a liar who’s trying to confuse you. Don’t let this rebel manipulate you with her deceptions.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” I say, scowling at President Vider.

“Get them!” the President commands.

The men lunge forward. And I know that it’s futile to fight them. We’re outnumbered. I hold up my hands. Feel Rogue behind me, pull me into him tighter. “Wait,” I say. “I’ll go, willingly. We both will.”

“Em, what are you doing?” Rogue whispers at my shoulder.

“Shhh…” I keep my hands up as I speak. “But before I surrender I have one last thing to say to my father. Will you please give me that?”

The men freeze in a perfect circle around us. Dean nods, a real battle seeming to go on within him. I flip my head up.

“Father,” I say, glaring at his smug face.

“Yes, Em,” he says, sounding bored.

“You’ve always known I was uncooperative, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you knew you were stripping me of my gift by giving me the injections, right?”

He blinks a few times. “Yes,” he says, his patience waning.

“You’ve seemed to know so much about me,” I say, my hands still in the air. Palms facing toward him.

He leans over the rail, looking down at me with a narcissistic smile. “That’s right.”

“Well, one thing I don’t think you know is that even from a distance, I’m dangerous.” From my raised hands bolts of electricity fire. They’re bright, so much so that I can’t look at them directly without my eyes squinting from the bluish light. The bolts shoot through the air faster than anyone can react. They gallop for a target and finally connect with the metal railing both my father and President Vider are gripping with white knuckles. The two men don’t have a second to react and there’s nowhere for them to go. The electricity assaults the railing and instantly spreads out, shooting through everything connected to the rails. The beams linked to the catwalk. The catwalk. My father. The President.

The electricity that had been lying across my heart, building with intensity, burdening me, burning me from the inside out, is now a weapon I’ve thrown at the two most powerful men in Austin Valley. Now with the electricity released I’m suddenly light. I feel like I can sprint for a hundred miles. And above us, my father and President Vider grip the metal bars like they’re welded to them as they fry under the electricity. Both men’s eyes bulge. Their bodies vibrate with a violent intensity. Smoke from somewhere begins snaking its way through the blue light. I watch them fry for what begins to feel like too long. Their suffering is a strange one that leaves an ambivalent weight over my conscience. Redemption and guilt somehow live simultaneously in my thoughts as I watch the electrocution of the two vilest men I’ve ever known.

And then as if synchronized, they both shoot off the bars and land in crumpled messes a few feet back. Each man convulses, like trying to move but unable to control their limbs properly. My father sits up, but electricity continues to snake through him, pinning him to the ground. Blood, dark, almost appearing black, snakes down from the President’s nostrils. And although I know I shot a great deal of electricity at them, they both still stare at me with blinking, vengeful eyes before slumping back on the metal grate below them. My father’s attempts to breathe echo with a strange rattling sound. And yet, I find a slight bit of consolation that he breathes. For the moment he is powerless, but not dead.

Around us the crowd of men steps back. The faces of men who have trusted me, worked beside me, stare back with disbelief and distrust. “No!” I yell. “I won’t hurt you! I’ll protect you. I’ll save you from them. Don’t be afraid.”

And still they revolve their gaze on each other and seem to come to the same conclusion as they back away. Away from me, like I’m going to hurt them with the same power I just unleashed against my father. Dean looks at me, terror in his eyes. “I want to help you,” I say, taking a step forward, but he shakes his head and backs up and then the group disperses, running away from me like I’m a monster.

I touch Rogue’s hand only slightly, afraid I might hurt him with my touch. When nothing happens I clench his hand. He grips it tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, and we run forward, toward where the Middlings are going. Hopefully to an exit.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

We race out of the building, through empty lots, past the plaza. And then Rogue scoops me into his arms and sprints at lightning speed. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. To feel safe and secure and also move like I’m dream traveling. That’s what Rogue can do. He moves like my consciousness does, with a graceful agility. His body has that instinct and I instantly worship it.

He sets me down when we arrive at my duffel bag. He’s sprinted, carrying me, for four miles, and isn’t even winded. I’m certain now I don’t spy half of his movements, which are like tiny sparks, quick and powerful.

“Rogue,” I say, touching his face, marveling at his greatness. “Are you all right?”

He nods. “I’m fine. Let me carry you farther.”

“No,” I say, pulling away from him. “I’ve got this. Let’s go.” I tug his hand behind me as I hike up the hill in front of us. Then I remember something and turn around to catch a deliriously happy smile on his face. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’ve got a long list,” he says.

I nod, smile back. Then I pull the bottle of pills out of my pocket. “Sorry, I forgot about these.” I open the bottle and pop one small oblong pill into my palm and offer it to Rogue. He swallows it dry.

“You were incredible back there. You electrocuted my father and yours,” he says, his eyes sparkling with life.

“I don’t think I killed them.”

“No, I’m afraid you probably didn’t, but still you knocked them out and that’s a good start to a fight.”

“I did kill Maurice,” I say, guilt crowding my throat again.

“No, you put him out of his misery.”

He kisses me and then tugs me forward, holding my hand as we rush through the forest. We hike two more miles to the top of the ridge and then our journey becomes more treacherous for the next two miles down, sliding on screes and almost falling off steep blunts. But Rogue navigates our route, every time making sure we finagle ourselves out of danger.

The canopy of the forest is so dense, I didn’t even know the moon was hanging overhead until we come to a clearing. Its silver light kisses the grass and wildflowers in the field. And then on the far side of the clearing I spy movement. I startle at first but then realize whatever it is isn’t human. The motion is a sweeping one. Hidden just on the other side of the field under the trees is an animal. And then my eyes adjust to the moonlight and I catch the movement of the swish of a magnificent horse’s tail.

I turn to Rogue. “That’s...?”

He nods. “Indeed.”

I almost cry realizing we’re so close. So close to freedom. Each step away from Austin Valley now feels coated with a potential doom, like my father will fly in and steal me away. Convert me. Being this close to escaping his and the President’s oppression is terrifying. And still I move forward, taking each step with a deliberate focus.

When I’m ten feet from the horse I really see her. See how extraordinary she is.

“Wow,” I say in a hush, coming to a halt.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Rogue says.

I’ve never seen such a large animal. She’s the length of a car and taller than Rogue. Her coat is golden and her mane and tail are white. She exudes a mystic strength I’ve never witnessed before. I wonder if all animals have this beautiful power inside them. Something tells me I will soon find out. I have so much to discover now.

“She’s stunning,” I finally say in response to Rogue’s question.

Rogue tugs on my hand, encouraging me toward her. He pats the horse’s neck. She whinnies at him, shakes her head. “Say hi to Em.”

“Hi,” I say, putting my hand up to her nose so she can smell me. I assume that’s what you do with a horse, so they know you’re all right. “What’s your name?” I say, rubbing her nose, which is soft and wet.

“I just told you. Her name is Em,” Rogue says, with a guilty laugh.

My eyes go wide. Mouth drops opens. Somehow a smile forms on my face. “You named your horse after me?!”

He nods, a clever smile on his face. Shrugs. “She’s not just any horse. She’s the best one out there.” He stands back and looks at her, checking her over. “And she’s the most beautiful.”

“Do you have a horse named after Zack too?” I laugh at the ridiculousness of the perfect man in front of me.

“Yeah, he’s my second best horse. Not as pretty, but he’s still a looker.”

The laugh that bursts out of my mouth echoes around us. As though he was born on a ranch and not confined to a suit most of his life, Rogue steps into the saddle and slings his leg over the side. Again the way he moves chills me. His gift of agility is unbelievably mesmerizing. His movements blur with grace. He extends a hand to me and I realize I’m holding my breath. Somehow by just watching him I’ve forgotten to breathe. “My lady?”

Sitting up tall on his horse, the moon casting him in a flawless light, I see Rogue for the first time for who he has truly become. A man. But not just any man, he’s become one who can steal anything he wants, pull it to him with just his sheer desire. And he’s stolen my heart. I’ve always loved Rogue, but not like I do in this moment. I don’t love him like a friend anymore. He doesn’t remind me of the boy who used to knock on my door at the same hour after dinner every night. I love him like my life depends on it. And in this moment I know it does. Our love has freed me.

I grab his hand, and with a strength that tightens my heart he pulls me up and onto the horse, whom I refuse to call by my name. My hands seize onto Rogue’s waist to steady me. “I’ve never ridden a horse before,” I say, looking down at the ground which feels too far away. The horse feels warm under me, and strangely like I’m straddling a tractor.

Rogue turns around and gives me a sideways smile. “It’s just like riding a bike.”

“How’s that?” I ask, looking down at my feet that hang loosely on either side of the horse.

“If you fall off, it hurts like hell.”

I laugh and snuggle my face in his neck, before lifting my chin and planting a single kiss on his cheek.

He turns back around and straightens up. “Hold on tight, babe.”

I snake my arms more snugly around him and press my chest to his back.

“Come on, Em, take us home.”

Rogue digs his heels into the horse, flicks the reins, and we take off in a steady trot down the hill, away from the land where I was born and to a place where I hope to be reborn.

Keep Reading for the Next Installment in the Reverians Series!

Acknowledgements:

I can’t believe I actually get to say this, but my first thank you goes out to my readers. I have readers?!?! You all reached out and supported me so much after my first series was published. I’m not going to lie. I was mortified by the experience. Would the world hate it? Love it? Line dog crates with it? But you all told me how much you enjoyed the Dream Travelers’ world. You asked for more. You encouraged me. Every single comment and review and email has given me confidence to step back in the author ring and put my heart on the line. Thank you for giving me that encouragement. Thank you for your insights and thoughts and sharing with me.

Thank you to my beta readers. Seriously, this would be a way different story without your help. I’m more than grateful for the time you give making my stories better. Without you I would be lost. Thank you to first chair, Colleen. Thank you to some of my biggest supporters Heidi and Mike. Thank you to Kelly for tightening the storyline. And thank you to Dane and Meghan who are eagle eyes. Thank you to Katy and Mathew for their incredible insights.

Thank you to my editor, Christine LePorte. Your work really polishes my story and your encouraging words have been a huge support to me.

Thank you to Andrei Bat. Can you believe I roped you in to do another cover for me? Bhahahaha! You can’t get away from me.

Thank you to my Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter and Instagram family. I have so much fun with you all and you have no idea how much the interaction encourages me. Thank you to the fantastic bloggers out there who have supported the first series and this one. I feel so fortunate to be able to work with you all.

Thank you to my family who is constantly building me up. Specifically a huge thanks to Randy and Edie. Your unconditional love just blows me away. Thank you to my dad, Kathy, Bea and Anne. Love you all.

Thank you to my friends. Seriously, you all amaze me with your support. I love you all so much and just want to make you proud. Thank you to Marie, Susie, Nicole, Nicole, Anna, Melinda, and Heidi for all your help with the books.

Thank you to spirit for granting me so many blessings. I have said before, and firmly believe, I have written very little of my own. I’m a recorder of sorts, writing down the inspiration you give me through some strange cosmic source. To me, there’s no other real explanation.

A colossal thanks to my husband, Luke, for putting up with me. When I write I turn in to a crazy, multiple personality kind of person. I reason that I’m channeling my characters, but to the outsider it would seem that I’m a little bipolar. At least I’m honest about it. Anyway, Luke doesn’t just allow this, he actually admires this to an extent. Luke, you are my first reader and my best critic. And I love you dearly. Thank for putting up with me.

And the last thanks goes to my beautiful daughter, Lydia. I’m always trying to make you proud because you, sweetheart, make me so very proud. I never wrote like I did once you entered my life. You are my inspiration.

One-Twenty-Six Press.

Rebels

Sarah Noffke

Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Noffke

All rights reserved

Copyeditor: Christine LePorte

Cover Design: Andrei Bat

All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Summary: No one is more dangerous than those who were once suppressed and have broken free.

Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press

ISBN: 978-0-9862080-7-2

For Dad, Kathy and Bea.

REBELS

Chapter One

Hard to believe three months ago I’d never even seen a horse, and now I’m crouched down low on one who shares my name. I tried to rename her, but Rogue said it would confuse the horse. Wind races through my hair as we canter across a rare stretch of flat ground. Most of the trek between Rogue’s farm and Austin Valley is dense brush and steep hills. However, Em easily manages the trails, which have been carved into the side of the hills by Rogue’s many commutes to and from the Valley over the years.

“Only a little farther now,” I say to Em, the golden palomino I’m riding.

A stiff ache has formed in my neck from checking my back, hoping he’s not following. The sun is just now coming up over the eastern mountains and hopefully Rogue is still sleeping. He’ll wake up soon and discover I’m gone. Discover I’ve left. And he’s probably going to kill me for what I’m doing, but if I can accomplish what I returned to Austin Valley for, then I’ll endure his anger.

I’ve only been gone for a night from his house and already I miss it. Miss the way it has its own personality, one which is comforting and also intriguing with its many oddities. Rogue’s house was built following the strictest of construction protocols, but he snuck in many of his own ideas, adding secret compartments in walls and drawers in the stairs where we keep our shoes. I know I’ll be returning to him and that house soon, but to be away after these long three months feels wrong, like I’ve left a vital organ behind.

When Rogue told me about his house he said he had a garden. He lied. He had a patch of weeds. Now he has a garden. Good thing he didn’t tell the same lie about his house. Otherwise I would have been living in a shack. It was obvious he’d spent all his time on the house, sustaining himself on cans of beans and freeze-dried fruit during its construction.

As the terrain in front of us grows denser with brush, I slow Em into a trot, intent on keeping a quick pace. Rogue was right about Em; she’s an incredible horse and her competent navigating allows my mind to wander back to when I first entered this new world full of Rogue, his farm, and his animals.

After our escape from Austin Valley, Rogue and I rode continuously, me holding on to him, trying to absorb the steady bounces of the horse. Rogue made me close my eyes when we finally neared his house. I listened with shut eyes as he dismounted and then pulled me off the horse and set me on my unsteady feet. My back ached from the ride and I never thought my head would stop vibrating from the constant rattling of the hooves on uneven terrain. I heard something approaching but with Rogue’s giddy breath by my ear I didn’t worry.

“Keep them closed, Em,” he said to me.

And then a wet soft sensation nipped at my fingertips.

I gasped, pulled my hand to my chest. “What was that?” I said, jumping back into his arms.

He laughed, one so pure I immediately relaxed. “That’s Athena. Specifically her tongue.”

“What? Gross! Dogs lick you? What did I do wrong?” I said, my eyes still dutifully closed, but the idea of an animal wiping its tongue against me made my mind cramp with strangeness.

“Nothing,” he said with a chuckle. “It means she’s likes you.”

If these strange animals did that if they liked me, I was worried to find out what they did if they didn’t.

With Rogue’s hand guiding me at my back I stepped roughly twenty feet. Then he spun me around to face him.

“Open your eyes,” he said, an eagerness in his voice.

I peeled open my eyes to find the sun setting over Rogue’s broad shoulder. We’d ridden most of the night and day to arrive there before dark. Clear rolling hills the color of spring moss stood in the distance at his back. Forest punctuated the areas to the sides. And to the north I could just spy a small stream snaking between two hills. My eyes finally found Rogue’s, which were overflowing with excitement. His smile widened, a perfectly crooked one. His almost black hair was wilder than usual, having been swept every which way by the wind as we rode.

At his knee I caught movement. I dared to look down. Only in books had I seen dogs. This one had a long black snout, perky ears, and a coat of black and brown fur. I jumped at the sight of her. Which made her ears perk up more and she struck a protective stance.

“Heel, girl,” Rogue commanded, and she sat her hindquarters back on the sandy dirt ground. “She’s never seen one of you.”

“A girl?” I asked, taking another step backward, as the dog tweaked her head to the side at the sound of my voice.

“I was talking to Athena,” Rogue said, with an amused smile. “You’ve never been in the presence of a dog, right?”

I nodded. “Do you always talk to them like they’re people?”

“No,” he said with offense. “I treat animals with way more respect.”

He had his hand down at his side and Athena looked between it and me with a tentative expression in her brown eyes. “She senses your fear, Em. It makes her worried you mean her harm.”

“I know what she’s capable of,” I said, tension laden in my tone. “She has teeth, and aren’t dogs like her police animals outside the borders of Austin Valley?”

“Yes, she’s a German shepherd. And need I remind you, you’re outside those borders now.”

All my life it had been about what happened inside versus outside Austin Valley’s borders. Black and white. Safe and unsafe. Happy and unhappy. I figured the world outside the Valley was full of savages. An unforgiving world where nothing went the way you wanted and no one did as you pleased. A world that was unkind and imperfect. Of course, I’d seen the world outside Austin Valley during brief dream travels but that had always been to an approved location, like a college auditorium or a closed down amphitheater. Before Rogue showed me Amsterdam I’d never seen a place in color. The irony was my life in Austin Valley had been in black and white and now I was seeing everything in high definition.

Athena regarded me with doubt when I reached out a hand to her. “I’m all right,” I said, willing my hand not to shake and my voice to remain steady.

Rogue waved his hand at her and she stood, taking two steps in my direction. Her nose touched my fingertips, a cold slippery feeling. Her long snout grazed my pant leg. And then, as though she’d confirmed I wasn’t a threat, she suddenly made a circle and took the spot next to Rogue’s leg again, his jeans caked in dirt from the long ride.

He looked way too entertained by that exchange. “See, that was easy.”

“I have my hand, so I’d say it wasn’t a complete failure.”

He stepped forward and pointed over my shoulder. “Well then, if you’re ready I have more to show you.”

I turned, and there nestled between an assortment of trees was a house as clean and perfectly built as the ones we have in Austin Valley. Well, not exactly like them. Better. It was a Craftsman style house with a front porch. An A-frame roof. Four columns and four steps leading up to a mostly windowed door. It was small. Four rooms. And it was painted in the ideal shade of mossy green, blending in flawlessly with its surroundings.

What astonished me wasn’t the precision of the lines, or the big windows on the front of the house. It was another dog—this one yellow—bounding in my direction. It was wet and smelled like fish and dirt. I found that out firsthand when Poseidon rammed both his paws on my shoulders, knocking me to the ground and licking my face like I was dinner. As opposed to Athena, there wasn’t a hint of threat in his approach. All unabashed affection. I found my hands were in his hair and my mouth laughing.

“What am I, Poseidon? Chopped liver?” Rogue said with a laugh. The excited dog bounded off me and gave Rogue a similar welcoming but without knocking him over. I stood with Rogue’s assistance, dusting off my pants and immediately realizing I smelled like dog.

“Sorry, even after all my strict training that Lab won’t mind. Makes sense you two became fast friends,” Rogue said, pulling a twig out of my tangled long hair.

“Shush it, Rogue,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward his house. His house. Four steps led me to the front door. Everything was perfect. Not a flaw anywhere I could find. And my eyes were busy searching, not for flaws, but rather hungry to absorb every detail. My palm was on the handle to the front door before I caught myself. I turned, giving him a questioning look.

“Go ahead,” he okayed. “It’s not locked.”

I twisted the stainless steel handle and stepped into a room unlike any I’d ever seen. The walls were paneled in polished wood. A soft rug greeted my feet as I moved forward. My neck craned to see the exposed beams overhead on the ceiling, which was at least twenty feet high.

It was dark, but my eyes studied everything I could see around me: the stone fireplace on the far wall, the entryway which spilled into a kitchen and then the arched hallway.

“You did all this?” I asked.

He nodded, a cute coyness on his stubbled face.

“When?” I asked in astonishment.

“Every night while dream traveling. You like it?”

I turned around a full circle, my eyes sweeping over every detail it could capture within that minute. “I absolutely love it. I’ve never seen anything that feels and looks so much like…well, it’s like you captured the true idea of home in this place.”

Rogue laughed. “I knew you’d say something complex.”

“Is that all right? Was that an okay reaction?”

“Anything you said would be fine. It would be perfect.”

In that moment I wasn’t merely in love with the guy who had built that house, I was in awe of him. In awe that he was someone I knew and could reach out and touch and hold against me. I snaked my arms around Rogue’s neck, urging him down closer. He kept a smile on his face and a distance of a few inches between us. His hands pinned against my hips and his eyes held mine. Finally he pulled me in close and kissed me, one so pleasing I didn’t even care that we both smelled like dog. Each time our lips met my chest tightened and my legs grew wobbly. And then as my mouth continued to move against his he said, “Hey, Em?”

“What?” I said, not particularly liking the idea of words at that moment.

“You wanna meet the goats?”

Not especially.
Not right now. I sighed, utterly deflated. Rogue would let me close, but not close enough. Always interrupting our intimacy with a distraction. But inside that small house built with his hands, I knew he wasn’t going to be able to avoid me. Which was what I thought he was doing. I was wrong. Rogue wasn’t afraid of being close to me. He was hiding something.

Chapter Two

I leave Em by a cluster of trees at the last clearing before the back hills of Austin Valley. It’s where I’d met her. It’s a safe place for the horse. One she’s familiar with.

I know from my hike out of the Valley three months ago that it will take me hours to get back into town. However, I’m stronger than I was back then, my muscles toned from plowing and building and surviving off the land. It’s a beautiful thing. I realize now how Rogue got lost in it. I know now how he came to terms with his own loneliness. He fell in love with Mother Earth. Fell in love with the labor of living. It has an essence to it that you lose when the essentials are done for you. I never appreciated water until I had to carry it on my back. Never appreciated a home until I learned to build. Never understood what our animals do for us until I milked goats.

As Rogue suspected, the goats were my favorite animal on the farm. I adopted a kid whose mother didn’t survive her birth. Jasmine. Every time I came to feed the goats, she’d hide from me behind objects too small to shield her. When I found her she’d then chase me around the pen. Rogue said I spent a lot of time playing. When I told him I’d stop, he scolded me with a single look and said, “Don’t even think about it.”

Our life on his farm hasn’t been perfect, but if perfect has a color then it’s the green of Rogue’s eyes. And if perfect has a sound then it’s the patter of his footsteps in the evening as he traces around the house making sure everything is set for the next day. If perfect has a place then it resides between the two of us. And yet I know that in our world there are too many complications. But as I hike farther into Austin Valley I know my purpose is to help us achieve perfection. My mission is to make our life better with the means which exist in the world I once depended upon.

I wash down by the stream when I’m a good distance into the hills. I don’t want to draw Vider’s attention to me with my smell as soon as I enter the Valley. His gift of heightened senses is acquainted with my scent, so I rub rosemary on my arms and legs after I’ve bathed.

I need to remain stealthy when I enter the Valley. Move in. Do what I came here for and move out. Undetected. And as quickly as possible. But I can’t control the whole mission or whether I get the compliance I desire, so I’ve got to be as careful as possible to cover my tracks. To keep my presence secret.

When dusk finally creeps over the Austin sky, I sneak into the Valley, slipping between shadows, intent on arriving at my location before its resident does. I hope to surprise him. I’m longing to see that look on his face when I do.

***

I’m nestled in the silk upholstered armchair in Zack’s bedroom for over an hour before I hear him enter his house. By the sound of his many attempts I’m guessing he’s not used to the lock yet. It’s well after nine o’clock. A late hour for working and returning home, even by Reverian standards. He’s been pushing it.

My legs are draped over the side of one of the arms of the chair and my back tucked into the other corner. The cushion of the chair is welcome after the long, fast ride. However, I hold my muscles at the ready. Zack could have a guest. Maybe he was out late for a reason. With someone. Nona says Zack picks up Dee, my older sister, every Saturday night. My younger sister, Nona, also says Zack looks convincing enough that she’s starting to think he actually likes Dee, although that’s impossible because he still has a soul. It’s Monday though. I’m guessing he’s been working.

I’d grown bored waiting for Zack to arrive, so I’d fallen asleep in the armchair, but not before inspecting his new home. The one he was assigned along with his new occupation when he came of age. It may be small, but the details speak to Zack’s reputation. Silk drapes hang in his windows and velvet graces the upholstery of his furniture. The travertine tiles I tracked mud across in the kitchen downstairs are even nicer than the type in my old home. The house is perfectly laid out and has more than enough room for Zack, and a little room to grow into.

The door in front of me swings open. The chair I chose is in the corner, behind the entryway to his bedroom. With a tired sigh he throws his suit jacket on the bed and strides into the bedroom, loosening his tie.

Three months feels like too long as I watch him move. Watch his fatigued body try and fail not to bang into his four-poster bed. He slips the tie over his head and tosses it with his jacket. All his movements reek of exhaustion. Still, I’ve never been sympathetic enough to him not to take a perfect opportunity like this to scare him to death.

“Zack, have you turned into a barbarian without me here?” I say.

He spins around, shock dripping off his face. His chest rises and falls with nervousness and then slowly calms as his blue eyes take me in, realizing I’m not a crazed criminal about to knock him out. Dark circles hang under his stunned eyes. His pale face looks as though he hasn’t seen sun all summer. And then his mouth forms a relieved smile that brightens a face I’ve sorely missed.

“Your jacket’s going to be a mess of wrinkles,” I say, waving at his bed where he threw it.

“Em,” he says in a croak, running his hand along the side of his head, knocking his gelled-back hair slightly out of place.

“Surprise,” I say, uncrossing my legs and popping out of the chair.

“You’re not supposed to be here for a month. What are you doing?” he says, crossing to the windows and closing the drapes, a look of worry on his tired face.

“I’m not here for the mission. I just need to retrieve someone and then I’m leaving.”

“Wait. Did you say someone? You mean Nona? She told you she wasn’t ready to leave.” Zack doesn’t look concerned anymore, he looks perplexed as he studies me.

“Not Nona.”

“Then who? And where is Rogue?”

“I left him at the house,” I say. I should have realized there wouldn’t be any sweet reunions with Zack, not while there’s a dozen questions plaguing his brain.

“Em, what’s going on?”

“I need to speak to Parker. Can you help me with that?”

At the mention of the doctor’s name Zack tenses. He’s the one who gave me the injections for three years. He’s the main reason I’m here.

“Dr. Parker? Why?” Everyone else calls the doctor by his title, but long ago he asked me to just call him by his last name to make things less stressed between us.

I’m about to tell Zack why I need Parker’s help, and then his eyes drop with worry. Not just worry. Devastation. His gaze swivels down to my midsection. “Em, are you pregnant?”

“Gods no!” I say too loud. “It’s not for me. It’s for Rogue. I need Parker to come back with me. I need him to help Rogue.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” he asks, a calculated concern in his voice.

I sigh. Being face to face with Zack suddenly makes me ache with vulnerability as I think about what brought me to the Valley. “We don’t know, but the meds don’t work like they used to. His headaches have turned debilitating and it’s not like I can take him to just any Middling hospital,” I say.

Right before we escaped Austin Valley three months ago, we’d secured a supply of medicine we thought would end Rogue’s headaches, like they always had before. But they haven’t.

“So, that’s why you’re here? To get Dr. Parker and take him back to Rogue?” Zack asks.
“Yes. I’ll come back in a month when you and Nona have everything ready.”

Zack nods, but his movements tell me a different story. He’s nervous. Disoriented.

“Look, I realize you’re tired,” I say, taking his hand and pulling him to a seated position on the bed. His hand is tentative in mine. Almost jerking from my hold. “I only need you to bring Parker here so I can speak with him. That’s easy, right? Then I think I can convince him to help Rogue.”

With tired eyes, Zack gives me a skeptical stare. “Tell me more about Rogue.”

“Well, he’s mostly fine, but has headaches two or three times a day,” I say.

“And the meds? You said they don’t work like they used to.”

“I should have been clearer. They don’t work at all.”

“Maybe they’re the wrong ones?” Zack says.

“Maybe.” I shrug

“But Rogue came into the Valley before,” Zack says. “Why isn’t he here now? Why doesn’t he come and see Dr. Parker himself? It would be much easier and safer.”

I stall a second too long. I’ve never lied to Zack and it feels all wrong, but with that insistent look on his face I force the rehearsed words from my mouth. “He’s too weak. He can’t dream travel, let alone make the journey here.”

“What?” A new burden shadows Zack’s face.

I rush forward with my words. “I have to convince Parker and take him to Rogue as soon as possible.”

Zack nods at once, only a tiny expression in his eyes indicating the fear I sense he feels from what I’ve just shared. “Okay. I’ll bring Dr. Parker here tomorrow evening, after work. That’s the soonest I can do it.”

I nod, a solemn one, although inside I’m bounding with joy that he’s so compliant.

“But Em…” Zack’s tone makes my breath pause.

“What?”

“It might be more difficult to convince Dr. Parker to do what you need him to. The Reverians here, some of them, I’ve learned, are harder to turn against President Vider. I haven’t tried, but Nona has and he has them under something like—”

“Mind control,” I say, completing his sentence. I remember from leeching my father’s telepathy and being in Vider’s head. President Vider controls people through his words. He’s persuasive, and manipulates people into thinking that serving him is serving the gods he constantly references.

Zack gives me a sideways glance. “Yes…” he says slowly. “You already know about this,” he says, no question in his voice.

“Yes, and I think I have an idea of how I can break the control. Just bring Parker to me and I’ll work on the rest.”

Zack nods, a strange look in his eyes as he pins his gaze on the antique dresser against the wall. He looks somehow lost, removed from this conversation.

Finally, he says, “So other than the headaches, are you and Rogue all right? There’s no other reason you’ve returned? Nothing new?”

“We’re fine. Really fine,” I say with an unabashed smile.

“That’s good,” Zack says dully.

“I can’t believe you thought I was pregnant,” I say, playfully slapping his arm.

“Well…” His voice shakes a little with what I guess is nervousness.

“Well, it’s an absolute impossibility, so there,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

“Really?” Zack’s tone brightens an ounce.

“Yes, really. It hasn’t been like that.”

“But you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” he asks with a weirdness in his voice. It’s such an abrupt question, but coming from my best friend, it shouldn’t be strange and yet it is. Zack and I never talk about relationships. Not really.

And somehow the words naturally rush out of my mouth at once. “Gods yes, I’m in love with him. Unbelievably so. I’d walk to the end of the Earth for Rogue,” I say, so excited to finally have another person to explain my adoration to.

“A simple yes would have sufficed,” Zack says, a coldness to his voice. He stands up from the bed and turns, looking at me.

“What’s your problem?” I size him up, a little at the edges and then really search his eyes. Creases mark his forehead, red rims his eyes. The new job working for my father has really taken a toll, but I remind myself he’s doing it for me. For the rebellion. For the Rebels.

“Nothing. I’m thrilled for you two. It’s only—”

“That you have to pretend to be in love with Dee and wish you could be with someone you love,” I say, cutting him off.

He gives me a pained smile. “You know me so very well. And yes, but that’s impossible for me.”

“It’s just because you’re playing a strategic game for power.”

“No, that’s not the only reason,” he says, his voice sounding haunted.

I stand up from the bed, a strange nervousness humming in my chest suddenly, a restlessness in my limbs. “It’s good to see you,” I say, centering on him.

He stops, regards me with a sweet sincerity. It doesn’t last long. It’s only one piercing stare and a smile. Being with my best friend right now is a gift after these long three months. I’m used to seeing Zack every day and when I didn’t for so long I realized how much I missed his quiet and critical presence in my life. I don’t even care that he’s in the process of crossing his arms in front of his chest, I rush into him. Throw my arms around his shoulders. Hug him.

“I missed you,” I say into his crisp white shirt.

He hesitates and then his arms wrap around me, pulling me into him. “I missed you too.”

I’m the first to let go. For as standoffish as Zack is acting, he seems to desperately be in need of comfort. I back up only a foot, peering up at him with a catlike expression. “I’m sorry for breaking and entering,” I say. “Are you mad?”

Zack shakes his head. Stares at the bamboo floor. “No. I love that you always rebelliously try and gain my attention,” he says, no smile in his voice. For as long as I can remember I’ve pestered him to play with me, knocking at his bedroom window too early on a Saturday morning. And before Rogue disappeared he was usually right beside me.

“That’s a relief, because I’m probably never going to stop,” I say, throwing a fake punch into his arm.

“Good,” he says flatly. There’s something so sad in Zack now. Something so different from months before. Maybe I demanded too much by asking him to stay here and scout for information. Maybe I burdened him with more than he can handle, or more than he wants to. I can never tell with Zack. And he won’t tell me if I ask.

“There’s a guest room—”

“I know,” I say, holding up a hand. “I already explored your house while I was waiting.” I grin, adding, “Sorry if that was crazy, but congrats on the house and job.”

“Thanks,” he says, his voice mechanical.

“Aren’t you happy about it?”

“Yeah.” But then Zack shrugs, contradicting his reply.

“What? Do you not like this house? It’s beautiful.”

He looks around at the intricate detail of the crown molding and stucco walls. “It’s fine. It’s just hard to enjoy it.”

I sense a loneliness in Zack so deep, like the well on Rogue’s farm. “Why?” I challenge him. “You worked hard for this. Most newly placed professionals aren’t assigned a house this nice. My father must really have given you a prestigious position.”

“No, it’s not prestigious, but it is a position with a lot of upward mobility,” Zack says. “And yes, I would have been proud of this before I realized it was given to me by a corrupt government.”

“Oh, that’s why you can’t enjoy it…”

“That and other reasons,” he says, his eyes edged in a new pain, one I don’t understand completely.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, almost beg.

“You must be tired,” Zack says, ignoring my question. “I’ll help you get settled.”

I lay a hand on his arm. “No, I’m good. You look like you’ve had too many meetings with my father today. You rest. I’ll find my way.”

I turn away from Zack’s discouraged eyes. I want to talk to him, to counsel him until he unburdens all the weight on his shoulders, but he’s too tired for that. He needs to rest and I should too, although I have no desire to be still when there’s so much to do.

I’m cuddled in the sheets of Zack’s guest bed within minutes, imagining that the pillow beside me is Rogue. He’ll have figured out that I’m gone by now. He’ll have found my note. And hopefully he’ll merely make a mess of the barn, taking his anger out by throwing things around. I could dream travel and check on him, but that feels too much like spying. And I doubt he’ll dream travel to check on me since he won’t know where to find me.

Chapter Three

Two minutes. That’s how long I attempt to rest. The mind-numbing torture from my guilty conscience won’t allow my eyes to close. That’s fine. I’m here to work anyway. I slip out of Zack’s guest bed and take off down the hall and out of the house.

Austin Valley is silent right now. All Reverians, both Dream Travelers and Middlings, are snuggled in their beds. All sleeping. I actually parted from Zack right before curfew. Hopefully he had plenty of time to slip on his sleep cuff, which would tell the government that he is indeed sleeping and not dream traveling to far-off fantastical lands. What would happen if everyone in this valley realized all they were missing? Would they run away as I suspect? Or would they do what I’ve done and return, looking for solutions I think only Reverians can provide? I worry that too many are like me and don’t have the authority to find the solutions on their own. If so, then we’re all screwed because we need a lot to fix us and the answers aren’t all to be found within our borders. However, half the population doesn’t even know there’s a problem, so first things first. Expose the problems. Find solutions. Then fix. That needs to be the order.

I slide through the shadows, like I did on my way to Zack’s house. I’m careful to keep my presence out of the bright overhead lights. I learned much of my stealth from watching my sister Nona sneak around. She moves like a cat, silent but graceful.

Within minutes I arrive at the apartment building and find Ren’s door. Shiny brass numbers stare back at me as I muster my courage. Finally I knock. Brace myself. He’s going to be mad. No, not mad. Livid. It’s two a.m. My father used to tell me people were most vulnerable at night, worn out by the day’s affairs. I hope that’s true and works in my favor right now.

The click of his hand on the door knob makes me reflexively straighten. I’m grateful there’s no peephole because if Ren knew it was me then he’d definitely not open the door. As my uncle, he should grant me extra courtesies, but we don’t have that kind of relationship. Actually, we hardly have a relationship since I only met him three months ago.

The door opens two inches. Sleepy green eyes spy me through the crack. I bolt against the door and move past Ren’s offended stare and into his apartment.

“In God’s name, what is your problem?” Ren says with a raspy growl, his British accent more pronounced probably due to his tiredness. He’s wearing dark green pajamas and his usual spiky red hair is flattened to his head in places.

“I have a whole host of problems, which is why I’m here,” I say with my hands firmly planted on my hips.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about you and your problems,” he says, slamming the door shut. “You’re an outlaw. Are you offering yourself up for reward money? ’Cause I’ll happily turn you in.”

“Not a chance,” I say, stalking into his dark apartment and plopping down in the only armchair in the place. Nothing has changed since I’d been here a few months ago. Still bare bones. A stack of books does sit in the corner, but not much else.

He flicks on an overhead light, his eyes instantly squinting from the sudden brightness.

Ren regards me with deserved contempt. “Leave,” he says with a snarl.

“Not yet,” I say, holding up a hand to him.

“Need I remind you that I can call your daddy and tell him you’re pestering your dear old uncle in the middle of the night? Then he’ll cart you off to ‘Create-a-Middling-Ville’ or whatever sinister places he’s created under the control of the big bad wolf.”

I yawn. “Need I remind you that I can leech your gift to hypnotize and control minds and then make you do whatever I say?”

He regards me with a quiet pride. Considers it. “Need I disclaim to you that my gifts take some honing and you may not be able to control them in the beginning.”

“Well then I’ll leech your powers and electrocute you, how does that sound?” I say. As a leech, I not only can borrow any gift from any Dream Traveler, but I can also unleash that power, something I actually have to do in order to survive. The energy I leech comes out of me as electricity.

He angles his head at me sideways. “That’s your unleashing mechanism? Electricity? Not bad. Not bad at all. On a different day, I might accept a bit of suffering to see that.” He regards me with a strange sentiment and then shakes it off. “So you might be powerful, but your biggest gift is that you’re a pain in the ass. Tell me why you’re here at this godforsaken hour.”

“I need to know how to reset mind control.”

Ren laughs abruptly. Loudly. “Oh, that’s cute. Even for you. Now why are you here, for real this time?”

“To find out how to overcome mind control,” I repeat.

His face falls slack. He sighs. “Oh, you were stupidly being serious. How blimey unfortunate for you.”

“Look, Vider has most of this population under mind control. I need to figure out how to overtake it.”

“And next on your agenda must be defying gravity. Right on. Good plan. I’m going back to watch Marilyn Monroe undress,” he says, turning for the hall.

I stand and reach out for his arm, not at lightning speed like Rogue could but with enough urgency that Ren stops and regards me with mild contempt.

Good, I’ve got his attention.

“Em, you should never, ever touch me. Know that.”

I drop my hand from his sleeve. “Sorry, I just need your help.”

“There’s no help,” he says and actually sounds almost disappointed. “That’s what I’m avoiding telling you. You lack a foundation in defense, as does everyone else in this prison of a valley. You don’t charge a bull and hope that your flimsy T-shirt and cargo pants protect you. You come prepared before the fight and I’m sorry to say you’re eight rounds deep and without a single chance.”

“But I’m not brainwashed,” I argue.

“No, but all the people you hope to rescue from President Vider are.”

“And there’s nothing I can do for them?” I say, slumping back into the chair.

His eyes fall on the corner of the room, his mind seeming to be deliberating on the question. Finally he sighs with mild resignation. “Look, people who don’t want to think for themselves are more susceptible to President Vider’s type of mind control,” Ren says, taking a position on the wall, leaning against it, his eyes almost closing. Strange how much he reminds me of my mother right now. They have the same pinched nose, although the rest of Ren’s features are softer. His eyes kinder, although I suspect he goes to great lengths to narrow them every chance he can, half the time for show.

“President Vider brainwashes through persuasion, sensing how to approach people,” he continues. “The best way to combat this type of mind control is to encourage empowerment and independence. This is the very reason it doesn’t work on you or me or the other Defects.” Ren taps his head with two fingers. “Your mind and the way it works is what classified you as a problem in his books, or so I’ve gathered. It’s an interesting genetic conundrum, but independent thinking is something we’re actually predisposed to from birth. That’s why he wants to do away with Defects. There’s no helping them, or disempowering them as it were. But his loyal subjects are more moldable. They don’t think for themselves. Since birth, they’ve been looking to their mummies to tell them what’s what.”

“If this is some genetic coding then how am I supposed to combat it?” I say.

“Oh, again with the impossible questions,” Ren says through a long yawn. “Changing how people are predisposed isn’t easy, but thankfully nature versus nurture secures some documented successes for you. Thinking independently can be taught; however, you’re going to have to do something akin to pulling a rabbit out of a hat to achieve it.”

“And whatever is that?” I say, suddenly feeling the tiredness of the long day in my bones.

“Well, Reverians, both Dream Travelers and Middlings, look to the President for direction and guidance. He’s their mummy. Their daddy. Their most inherent driver. You get what I’m saying?”

“He’s the conditioner. The one who’s encoded their thoughts the most,” I say.

“Bingo, bango,” Ren says, not sounding as enthusiastic as his words would seem. “And you’ve got to reach into these feeble minds and turn them against their most trusted influence. To combat his mind control, you’ve got to make the population distrust a person who they think is essential to their survival and happiness. So I hope you don’t have any holidays scheduled in the next decade because you’ve got your days planned.”

I shake my head at him. “How am I supposed to turn people against him? What can I offer them?”

“Hell if I know.” He shrugs, genuinely not looking interested in my problem. “Why don’t you make up a bogus religion with multi-gods, it seemed to work for President Vider. But the trick is you’ve got to make them believe.”

“I think I’d have a better chance making them believe I’m God.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Ren says, stroking his chin and seeming to consider the ridiculous notion.

“I was joking,” I say, standing from the worn armchair and making for the exit. He angles around me at once and plops down in the seat, which he’d been eyeing enviously.

“Well, I wasn’t,” Ren says, slouching down low in the chair and looking close to falling asleep. “If you can make people believe in you, in what you can give them, then you might have a chance. If they think you can offer them something better than the President, and if you can construct a good enough argument against him, then you could break through the programming.”

“Really?” I say, ideas rapidly streaming through my head. Ways to motivate people. Give them what they want although they may not know it. Not yet.

“Yes, well, I realize you were looking for some hocus-pocus, but in most cases the easy solutions are the best. And there you go, leave my money at the door, would you?” Ren says, propping his head on the palm of his hand and falling off to sleep too quickly. I listen to his gentle snores as I turn for the door.

“Oh, and Em…” Ren says, his voice groggy and also a little amused.

I tense. Turn. Stare at Ren. He’s slouched over, almost drooling on the chair.

“What?” I ask, a little weary of what tidbit Ren will leave me with. I’ve learned he likes to save the strange and bad news for last. He usually drops a bomb on me as he rounds for the exit.

“If it were easy to construct an argument against someone who brainwashes, then they wouldn’t control most of the population. They wouldn’t have blanketed our history with war and death,” he says through a long yawn.

“Is that your way of wishing me good luck?”

“That’s my way of telling you you’re screwed. Turn off the light on your way out, won’t you, luv?”

Chapter Four

Morning light streams through the blinds when I awake, mostly disoriented. I shoot into a seated position, wondering why I’m surrounded by strange furnishings. Then I remember the day before. Returning to Austin Valley. Zack. And what I came here for.

In the hallway I hear Zack’s soft-soled shoes clinking against the wood flooring. Afraid he’s rushing out of his house for work, I spring out of bed and whip open the door. He halts at the landing to the stairs, a breathless look on his face like I startled him. In this light, with my fresh eyes, he looks so different. For the most part nothing has changed about Zack, but he does somehow seem older, his denim blue eyes burdened. He blinks them a few times, giving me a sobering expression.

“Did you forget I was here?” I say, walking directly up to him.

He shakes his head.

“Then why the look of bewilderment?” I say, tugging on his shirt sleeve. It’s an old gesture we share. Usually one of us does it to the other when they look distracted, which Zack currently does.

“Not bewilderment,” Zack says in a scratchy morning voice. “Just strange seeing you here. It caught me off guard.”

I take in the hallway, his bedroom at his back, and the skylight overhead. The house has a lighter, cheerier feel in the morning. I instantly like it more than I did last night. This house is new construction, unlike the one I grew up in, which was one of the first built when Austin Valley was founded.

“It’s nice to see you here,” Zack says, his eyes on me as mine scan the surroundings. “You make the house feel less cold.”

I finally look directly at him. “Well, I hope you think the same thing when you find my hair in the drain.”

He laughs. It’s somewhat forced and still I can’t figure out why he seems so distant. He’s close enough to touch and too far away to reach. And all I want is to feel him near, but I could never tell him that. Can’t even think it in my current mind. That was the old Em. The one before Rogue.

I grab his hand to tug him toward the stairs but he immediately pulls away from me. “I was only going to offer to make you breakfast,” I say, scowling at him and his rejection of me. “What’s your deal?”

He shakes his head, shaking me off. “First of all, you know how to make…anything?”

“I do,” I say, feeling proud.

“Rogue taught you,” he says, completing my sentence.

“Yes.”

He nods, seeming to understand this. “Well, and second of all, I don’t eat breakfast,” Zack says, walking past me and down the staircase.

“I know that, silly,” I say, hurrying down alongside him. “But people change and maybe it will make you feel better at midday when you have a ton of meetings left to sit through.”

He stops at the bottom of the staircase and regards me like I’m an immigrant who asked if I could compost his trash. “I’m good, Em. But thanks.”

“Zack,” I say, pulling his suit jacket out of his hands. “What’s your deal? Are you mad at me for asking you to stay? To infiltrate the government?”

He takes his jacket back with a tired look. “No, of course not. I’m not mad about a single thing. I’m simply deliberating on how to get Dr. Parker here.”

“Oh,” I say. Zack does get strange when he’s thinking, all introverted. It’s cute to watch, unless I’m in a talkative mood and then I’m completely bored with it.

He slips his jacket on over his crisp white shirt. He looks smart in his new suit. It fits him better than the ones he wore before he had money. “What will you do while I’m gone?” he asks.

“I have a mission,” I say, looking down and realizing I’m wearing pajama bottoms and one of Rogue’s too large T-shirts. It’s all I had time to pack.

He regards my ensemble briefly too and then looks directly at me. “And this mission? What is it?”

“I’m going to break into President Vider’s house.”

He coughs out an abrupt laugh. “You’re what? Seriously, what are you doing?”

“I mean it,” I say, wrapping my arms around me, suddenly realizing how exposed I am in this loose-fitting shirt. “When we ran into President Vider in the labs, I learned something about him. I need to investigate it because I think it could be really important.”

Zack eyes his watch and then his gaze quickly flicks to my arms tied across my chest. “And what did you learn?”

“Vider murdered Violet, Rogue’s mother,” I say in a rush of words.

“What?” Zack claps a hand on the banister in front of me. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “Yes, I read his thoughts, thanks to leeching my father’s telepathy skill.”

Zack is now rubbing his temples. He then angles his back to the stairs and takes a seat. Without a need for permission I sit down next to him.

“Whew, it feels good to finally tell someone that,” I say in a whisper.

“Wait!” Zack spins around and looks at me. “Rogue doesn’t know about this?”

“No,” I say with a head shake. “I need to find out why his father murdered his mother before I tell him.”

“Oh, Em…” Zack says in an irritated tone, and pins his head down between his knees. “Why didn’t you tell him? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I didn’t want to hurt him with information that was incomplete,” I say, my tone matching his. “How would you feel if you found out your father murdered your mother? And what if you didn’t know why? I didn’t want to burden him further until I knew more.”

“So you burdened yourself,” Zack says, almost to himself and then brings his strained eyes up to meet mine.

I shrug. “I just…”

“Never cease to amaze me,” he says, finishing my sentence.

“Well, I think I did the right thing—” I say, ready to launch into a million excuses.

Zack holds a single hand up and I go silent. “No, I mean you’re truly amazing. I can’t imagine keeping that secret from someone.”

“Shut up,” I say, slapping his arm. “You keep a million secrets from me.” And my head somehow finds its way to leaning against his arm. I’ve missed him so much. He’s like the structure to my house. I can’t imagine my life without Zack. He’s always been there for me. Always. And to have him after all these months of not, feels like a gift. But not like how Reverians think of gifts. It’s not an ability. It’s something that someone gives you. A present of sorts. But not in the physical sense. Something that comes from the presence of someone simply existing. It happens in a single moment. And then it’s gone, whooshed away with the wind, only to be stored in the memory of the heart.

“I don’t keep many secrets from you,” Zack says, a smile in his voice.

“Oh no?” I say, holding his arm.

“Only a few.”

“Maybe one day you’ll share,” I say.

“I doubt that,” he says, and slides his arm from mine and leans back enough so I have to sit up without him. He looks happier than moments before, but somehow different. Sad. “So while I’m stuck in meetings discussing budgets and organizational restructuring you’re simply going to break in to the President’s house and snoop around to find out why he murdered his wife?”

“Yeah,” I say, with a shrug. “I might do a load of laundry too.”

“What can I do to persuade you not to do this?” Zack says.

“I promise I won’t break your washer. I’m no Middling, but I can work it.”

He shakes his head. “Em…”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, waving my hand at him as I stand. “I’m a big girl now. And if I can find some information on this then I can tell Rogue. Maybe I can do more than that, maybe I can expose Vider for the scoundrel he is.”

Zack nods and stands, smoothing down his slacks. He walks past me at once and heads for the door. “Well, promise me you’ll be careful at least,” he says to the door and the floor, but not to me.

“I promise,” I say, hiding the smile that I feel for some odd reason. “And you’ll be with the President the whole day, so you’ll know I won’t be in danger of getting caught.”

He spins at the door and regards me with a quiet dissatisfaction. Zack’s hair looks perfect in the morning sunlight, golden and smooth, without a single strand out of place. “If that’s all it took not to worry about you then I’d be happy, but there’s more to it.”

I take a single step and he sucks in an unexpected breath and regards me strangely. I shake my head at him. “I’m not sure what happened to you since I’ve been gone, but you’re a bit squeamish. It’s like you keep thinking I’m going to hurt you or something.” I reach out and straighten his tie. It’s something I’ve done a hundred times. This time he flinches, like I’ve shocked him with my touch, but he quickly covers the look. It’s replaced with a small, almost nonexistent smile which reaches up to his eyes.

I stop, drop my hands, and suddenly a new worry assaults me. “Is it Dee? Has she hurt you?”

He swallows hard. Shakes his head. “No, it’s not her.”

“Well, if she does I’ll burn all her clothes. You just tell me.”

Zack nods, a look of such heartbreak in his eyes.

Chapter Five

The side door to Vider’s house is unlocked. My guess is all the doors are unlocked. No one would dare to break into anyone’s house in Austin Valley. It’s something people outside our borders do. Something savages in the real world do. And Middlings who have been caught trespassing have disappeared and to speak about them is forbidden. So crime has never been prevalent here. It’s what Vider prides his campaign on. It’s what encourages the brainwashing. And a person would have to be out of their mind to break into Vider’s house. I’m happy to say I perfectly fit that description.

I waited and watched from behind a dense bush as the cleaning crew worked in Vider’s house. The scratchy leaves will probably cause me to have an awful rash. It took a team of five Middlings a solid hour to dust, sweep, change out the linens, and mop the old Victorian house.

The kitchen smells like lemon and sage and the floors are still wet with cleaning chemicals when I enter. I freeze in the entryway, my leeching ability assessing if any Dream Traveler is in the vicinity. If there is I’ll feel the draw of their power as I suck it in, although I may not know what the gift is. Luckily, there are no Dream Travelers in the house. There could be Middlings who I’m unaware of, though, because I can’t detect or harness their energy.

Now that I’m here I feel stupid. Shortsighted. I have zero idea what I’m looking for. All I know is Vider murdered his wife to protect a secret. And if I’m going to truly create a rebel force against him I’ll have to know what he’s hiding. I need to know his weaknesses. And although Zack disapproves, there’s no way I can tell Rogue about his mother without knowing the whole story. How can I give him that information with no way to help him process it? Knowing the truth doesn’t heal our pain. And knowing only half of the truth is usually more of a burden than a gift. Rarely does the truth set us free. Usually it chains us to the earth like a ghost. That’s not to say ignorance is bliss. Things merely need to make sense and knowing only what Vider did—but not why—isn’t enough.

I slip through the living room, which is stuffy with stiff furniture and starched drapes. And then I take a long dark hallway through the center of the house. Most of the rooms don’t call my attention. And I feel silly to even follow any hunches when I don’t know what I’m looking for. It’s not like Vider will have left out evidence to connect him to the murder or reveal his motive.

I enter through a set of double doors and into a darkened room. My breath catches. It’s only a dusty, unused office. But what stills my blood is that the room has an uncanny resemblance to Rogue’s living room. Its arrangement and furnishings make me certain I’ve fallen through a portal and back into Rogue’s home. An ache erupts in my stomach. I’ve had it since I snuck out of his arms a couple nights ago, but now it’s stronger.

I shiver, feeling a sudden chill. My eyes search for an open window or vent, but there doesn’t appear to be any reason for the dense cold air. Over a writing desk is a diploma and the recipient is a Mrs. Violet Vider. It’s her certificate for a PhD in philosophy. As I turn in the room, taking in assorted details, it dawns on me. This is Rogue’s mother’s office. She’s been dead for twelve years and pens sit on a pad as if yesterday she was writing a note at this desk. Vider must keep it like this to trick the population into thinking he still grieves for his dead wife. Sympathy is a powerful way to gain control.

Twice I circle the oversized office. It’s set up almost like living quarters, with an area for working, lounging, and refreshments. I imagine that Violet spent much of her time locked up in here while she was working on her PhD. In the corner is a station with blocks, puzzles, and children’s books. Did five-year-old Rogue sit in that area and play while his mother read and wrote papers?

The whole room boggles my mind. And there’s something else about this room that strikes me as odd. It hasn’t been cleaned. The rest of the house is spotless, but this one has a fine layer of dust. I had to squint to make out the words on Violet’s diploma. The smell of musk is strong, especially by the drapes which probably hold twelve years of dust.

And then my curiosity leads me to the door. Is Rogue’s bedroom like this, left in a preserved state by Vider? My hand is on the door handle when I feel the rush of cold move past me. Again I twist around, wondering where the chilling breeze came from. The autumn winds have started to stir, but this room is tightly closed from the outdoors. At the threshold I turn and stare out at the office. It’s strangely beautiful and I know it tells a story, but I don’t know how.

I’m more heartbroken than I ever imagined that Vider didn’t keep Rogue’s bedroom intact the way he did with his wife’s office. I’d spent so many afternoons in the room, playing cards or making up stories with Rogue and Zack. And a part of me longs to lie in his bed and imagine that somewhere over the Austin hills he feels me, knows that even though I left, I love him. He has to know I love him. I left him because I do.

Chapter Six

Maybe it was because my spirits had fallen from not finding anything at Vider’s. Maybe it’s because the temptation is too strong seeing my house only two doors down. I forgot how close Rogue’s house was to mine. When he disappeared I forced myself to ignore his house, to forget it existed. Zack’s old house is a half a block down. His new one is thankfully on the other side of town, in the new area to the east where Vider is expanding the border so he can brainwash and control more people.

I know I should return to the safety of Zack’s house, especially since it’s the middle of the day and the chances of me being spotted are too great. Yet the urge to be close to my old home is too arresting for me to resist. I wasn’t given a chance to say goodbye to the one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old house where I was born and grew up. Now’s my chance. I stay as close to the property lines as possible, which offer the shield of a stone wall and shrubbery that twice I dart into to avoid passersby. When did the Valley get so busy?

Our back gate squeaks when I open it. The backyard is empty. The lawn crew comes on Mondays and the Middlings who clean are scolded by my mother if they aren’t done by nine a.m. My mother has always preferred for the house to have as few disturbances as possible, but who knows why. It’s not like she does anything but hold tea parties and read her friends’ fortunes. The last of those parties that I attended my mother informed me that my fortune hadn’t changed since birth and I’d be the downfall of the family. That was shortly after I was put on the Defect list.

I know with certainty that Tutu, my grandmother, is home. I don’t think she’s left in years. She says it’s not that she can’t but that seeing the current valley makes her lonesome for how it used to be. According to her it was better. A healthy vibe. A society inspired by government, not confined by it. There’s no way I’m getting access to the eastern wing where she resides. It faces the busy street. But Nona’s room is in the back and if I’m successful at scaling the drainage pipe I can get up there. She’s not home since school started already but I want to leave her a surprise. Something to show her I’m here and thinking about her. Something to thank her for all the risks she’s been taking to start the rebellion.

The climb up to her window is a cinch since I’ve built muscle mass. I’m up the pipe and through her window in less than a minute. It used to take me ten minutes or more.

Nona’s room hasn’t changed, although I know she has. She’s matured so much in three months. I can tell by the seriousness of her notes. We leave messages in the old oak every few days. She tells me in code how her plans are going. By dream traveling, I reply to her notes, advising her based on my knowledge of the labs.

The piece of paper makes a rustling sound when I slip it out of the desk. I scribble a message to Nona. Since I can’t leave the note in plain sight but want her to find it, I decide to leave clues. Keep the drawer open. Drop the pen on the floor. Nona will notice this before she even flips on the light. And when I tuck the note under her pillow I find something I wasn’t expecting. My diamond-encrusted combs. The ones Dee always stole. The ones Tutu gave me for my twelfth birthday. I smile inside, realizing that Nona protects me even though I don’t exist to this family anymore.

And quite unexpectedly three things happen at once: I hear several muffled voices. The floor board outside Nona’s door creaks. And a whitish transparent figure appears before me. I freeze, waiting for my reality to compute in my overwhelmed head. Rapid blinks bring the figure into focus. It’s a man. One I can see and also see straight through. He’s dressed in a distinguished three-piece suit. His hair is parted down the middle and slicked back. An amused expression twinkles in his kind eyes. He isn’t young, but isn’t old. He’s elegantly sophisticated. And then above the muffle of voices he speaks. “Morie, it’s so good to see you. Things are less interesting without you here to watch.” His voice is smooth, rich, alluring.

The door to Nona’s room opens. I back for the window in three quick steps but I freeze when her face peeks through. I never thought I’d see her again. Her bright periwinkle eyes sparkle when they land on my shocked face. But Tutu doesn’t smile at me, she simply gives a sly expression, like that of a raccoon who’s found an especially good treasure. And I know better than to rush into her arms, although I want to. She loves me more than anyone I’ve ever known, but she isn’t the hugging type. She once told me she didn’t need to wrap her arms around me at our every meeting to prove her affection. “If you need a hug to know how I feel about you, then I’m not doing a very good job,” she said when I asked her one night about it.

“See, I told you she was here,” the gentleman says proudly to my tutu, pointing directly at me.

“Indeed, you did, Ronald,” Tutu says, winking at the gentleman.

“Ronald?!” I whip in the direction of the misty figure. The one I now realize is a ghost. “He’s—” I point at Ronald, and then turn to Tutu—“That’s the famous Ronald?” There are apparently a few spirits who have always floated around our house, but Ronald is the one Tutu always spoke to most.

Her features screw up with confusion. “Hold on a second, child,” she says, shutting the door behind her. “You can see him?”

I turn and study Ronald. He offers me a gentle smile and a wink.

“Yes, I can see him and no wonder he’s your favorite spirit.”

“What’s that mean?” she asks, looking from Ronald to me.

I shrug. “Just saying he’s not bad to look at and he’s about as flirty as a Labrador.”

He bows low. “Why thank you.”

Tutu regards him again. “Is he? I hadn’t noticed.” But her voice artificially heightens at the end. She shuffles into the room, half dragging her cane. She plops on the bed and sighs. Seems like Tutu and I should have a proper reunion, but we’re past that now. “Dear child, please tell me, is your gift seeing spirits?”

“Oh no!” I say, realizing looking at my tutu’s slouched posture that I’ve inadvertently weakened her. I sever my leeching power, which if I’m not careful automatically operates. It’s especially persuasive on gifts that are passive like Tutu’s. The muffled voices stop and Ronald disappears at once. And I suddenly miss his handsome smile. Captivating isn’t the right word for him. He’s downright mesmerizing to look at, and charm drops off him like water from a fountain.

“Sorry,” I say, taking the spot next to Tutu. I grab her wrinkled hand and press it between both of mine. “Do you feel all right? I hope I didn’t leech you too long.”

“Leech? That’s what that was?” she says, pulling her hand from mine and placing it back on her knee.

“Yes, that’s my gift, Tutu. I’m sorry if I hurt you, I do it automatically when my defenses are heightened.”

She waves me off. “Didn’t hurt me one bit. I’m tired because I’m old, not because my granddaughter sucked out my inborn gift.”

She’s old. The oldest Reverian alive. Ninety-nine years old. But she’s lying. Fatigue is etched at the corner of her features. She even slurred a few of her words, but I’m not going to press the matter. Vider told me that although leeches can weaken and kill over long periods of time, their powers have quicker effects on those like the elderly, pregnant, and sick.

“This is a pretty incredible gift you have,” Tutu says, sitting back farther on the bed. “No wonder Damien keeps looking over his shoulder. I suspect my son is simply terrified of you. I hope you use this gift to scare the pants off of him.”

I grimace. “I’d rather not scare him that much. I don’t want to see my father pantsless.”

She chuckles, a sound I’ve missed. “So you met dear old Ronald, did you?” Tutu says, looking at the corner where I suspect Ronald is hanging out.

“I did,” I say, blushing a little.

“Lyza is out, lucky for you,” she says.

“I know,” I say. “I can feel Dream Travelers’ powers. Knew Mother was gone. Knew you were home. And only you, otherwise I wouldn’t have chanced the break-in.”

“And what did you come for?”

“Just wanted to send love to Nona.”

“She needs it,” Tutu says, matter-of-factly.

“I figured.”

“And you?”

“Me what?”

“Do you need love or are you doing all right for yourself out there?” Tutu says, waving her hand, indicating the not-so-distant land where I live. I look at her. Really look up at her for the first time since I sat down. Her penetrating blue eyes sparkle with a knowing expression.

I dart my eyes away at once, a strange embarrassment blossoming in my chest.

“Oh yes,” she says, sounding proud. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

I nod.

“And you’re here for this boy you’ve fallen in love with as well, I suspect,” she says, no question in her voice.

“Why would you suspect that?”

“Because love makes you do crazy things, and returning to the Valley and your home is about the most outlandish thing I think you’ve ever done.”

“Yes, I’m here for him.”

She revolves her head full of gray curls toward the corner, a look of disapproval jumping to her face. “Ronald, it won’t be the least bit romantic if Em is caught. Damien will convert her and this poor boy will be left all alone.”

“Has Ronald always done that? Made comments about our conversations?” I ask, looking at the corner.

“Oh yes. He thinks his opinion is always required on all affairs in the house and reports them to me without fail.”

There’s a pause while Tutu stares at the corner and then nods her head. “Yes, it’s a good thing I usually agree with you or otherwise it would get old fast,” she says to him with a wink.

“Tutu?” I say and she turns in my direction, giving me her full attention. “When I met Ronald a few minutes ago, he called me a strange name.” She nods, seeming to know the name before I say it. “I think he called me Morie.”

“Yes, it’s his nickname for you. He has one for everyone.” She snaps her head back on the corner and presses her lips together. “Now you watch yourself. I’m the only one who can call my son that.”

I giggle, wanting to know at once what the name was. Devil. Dark One. Demon. “Well, how did Ronald come up with Morie for me?”

Tutu shifts with hesitation. She angles her head sideways like she’s debating what to say. “It’s a playoff of your real name.”

“What?! Em isn’t my real name?”

She shakes her head. “Em is a fine name. A strong one. It’s the one I adapted for you. I threatened your mother never to call you by your gods-given name.”

“I always thought my name, my real one, was Em,” I say, looking at the floor, my head growing cloudy. Ren, when I first met him, asked what Em was short for. At the time I told him it wasn’t short for anything, but he didn’t believe my mother would name me just Em. Now I realize she hadn’t. “So what is my name? The one my parents gave me?”

Tutu closes her eyes, and when she opens them they’re coated in a solemn anger. “Morta. I’m sorry, dear, sweet child. Your parents named you after the goddess of death.”

Chapter Seven

News like “you were named after the goddess of death” should really be followed up with an explanation, but there was no time. A second after Tutu told me this, I felt my mother’s energy enter the house. It would have been great to leech a clairvoyant vision from her, but she wasn’t having any right then. With only one sentimental glance at Tutu I popped back out of the window and hurried down the drainage pipe. Once in the yard I crawled under the ledges of the windows and then hopped the side fence.

Sneaking around Austin Valley during the day is terrifying. There’s too many people on the streets and not enough places to hide. I’m grateful when I slide through the back door of Zack’s house. He and Parker are sitting in the living room, the drapes closed. Zack takes one look at my clothes, covered in leaves and dirt from hiding in bushes, and shakes his head.

“Good, you didn’t get yourself caught,” he says, relief and disapproval partner emotions on his face. He stands and in three strides is right in front of me. Tentatively he picks a twig out of my hair and looks closely at my face. “You’re bleeding though.”

I touch the scratches on my cheek and find blood on my fingertips. “Well, I had a few run-ins with a holly bush.”

I wave at Parker, who’s sitting on the couch and looking from me to the door. He doesn’t merely look nervous, he looks like he’s in the presence of a deranged psychopath.

“Did you at least find what you were looking for?” Zack asks, bringing my attention back on him.

I shake my head. “No, but I learned something I’m looking forward to forgetting.”

Zack raises a curious eyebrow at me, but I wave him off and take a seat on the couch opposite Parker. It feels good to sit after the long day of running around the Valley. Parker, as normal, looks overworked, large circles under his brown eyes and a tiredness in his slumped shoulders. However, he’s alert, his fingers nervously drumming on his bony knee. He’s not regarding me with the usual smile, but more of a hesitant concern.

Ren said that to undo Vider’s brainwashing I’d need to make people believe in me and give them something they want. Reverse the manipulation. Maybe finding out my namesake is a blessing. Nothing is more important than the need to survive and no one is more intimidating than the goddess of death.

“What does he know?” I ask Zack.

“Nothing. I simply told him there was a matter that only he could help with and that he wouldn’t be in trouble for it,” Zack says with authority. He’s even more confident than he used to be. It makes me proud. Even inspires me. That statement coming from someone who works for the Chief of Staff would carry great weight. No wonder he had no problem getting Parker here.

I turn to Parker, who’s scooted to the corner edge of the couch looking like he’s about to flee from the room.

“Parker, whatever you’ve heard about me isn’t true,” I say, holding my chin high, borrowing some of Zack’s confidence.

Doubt is heavy in the doctor’s eyes. “I understand you can’t control who you’ve become. You need your injections. And there’s other remedies I can help you with to combat your mental illness.”

I nod, having expected the Reverians to be told some garbage like this by my father and Vider.

“I’m not sick, Parker.”

He nods. Gives me a smile like I’m a pathetic beggar. “I’m glad you’ve returned from hiding and I’m glad you called for my help; schizophrenia is a serious condition.” He’s talking slowly. His voice careful. “Your father has been frantically worrying about you. He’ll be so relie—”

“Stop, Parker,” I say, holding up a hand to him. “I’m not sick. I’m healthier than I’ve ever been.”

“I understand that you think so,” he says, pushing his glasses up on his nose with his ring finger, “but you’re not seeing things clearly.”

“My father isn’t the innocent man you believe him to be.”

Offense flashes on Parker’s face. His eyes taper a bit, but then relax. “Well, he’s shown great compassion during the search for you. And he’s forgiven you after all the Middlings you hurt. He’s publically forgiven you after what you did to him and the President. He may have certain faults but his genuine concern for his daughter isn’t one of them.”

This isn’t working. This isn’t the right approach.

“Parker”—I stand up, hold my shoulders back—“I didn’t hurt any Middlings. And I did defend myself against my father and Vider because they were trying to kill Rogue.”

His eyes narrow into a tight squint. “What?”

“Yes, you recognize the name? He would have been the first kid you gave a Defect injection to.”

“But he’s dead,” Parker says, confusion making his youngish face look prematurely old.

“No.” I shake my head. “He’s not dead and he needs your help.”

“Does his father, President Vider, know?”

I roll my eyes. This is harder than I thought. “He. Was. Trying. To. Kill. Him.”

Parker dismisses this. “I’m sure you misread the situation.”

“Hard to misread the things people think in their own heads.”

He flips his head up at me. “Em, is that your gift? Have you finally gotten it?” His face brightens. “You’re telepathic, like your father.”

I shake my head, taking a seat again. “No, but we can get to that later. First off, I need to know, Parker, do you synthesize the injections?”

His dark eyebrows knit together. “No.”

“And do you know there are babies being brought to the lab?”

“Middlings who are tested for a genetic defect that was prevalent years ago.” He says all this automatically, not a single cue that he’s lying.

“Em,” Zack says from his place stationed by the exit. “Dr. Parker wouldn’t know. They’ve compartmentalized all parts of the projects. No one knows fully what’s going on. Not even my father. Only probably President Vider’s closest cabinet members.”

I nod, having guessed this. But before I could give Parker more information I needed to know, really know, if he was innocent. If he had willingly, knowingly injected children with poison for all these years…well, I’d kill him. I’m not sure if I have the power to kill within me, but something tells me I do, and not only because of my namesake.

“Parker,” I begin, “when I learned the truth, I was given a choice: to stay ignorant or to know a startling reality. I’m not going to give you that choice, for the simple fact that you are being used as a pawn and if you knew what you were doing I suspect you’d stop.” I pause and gauge Parker’s reaction. At first he bristles, like he’s going to refuse, but then something in him shifts and he leans forward, a hesitant curiosity in his eyes now.

“What I’m doing?” he repeats with perfect diction. “What would I stop doing if I knew a certain truth?” And now he’s halfway to entertaining my crazy words.

“The injections you give Defects suppresses their gifts,” I say and deliberately stop to give him a second to fully process that weighty sentence.

And as I suspected his face goes through a series of different expressions until it lands on denial. “No, Em, those injections are meant to bring out the gifts Defects have lost somehow. They’re the cure to the Defect epidemic. I understand how gruesome the treatments had been for you. I realize that’s why you’ve constructed this false reality in your mind. There’s no way the President would sanction a project that causes his citizens such pain if it wasn’t meant to help such a cruel illness.”

“I fear you don’t know the President as well as I do, because he would and he has sanctioned such a project,” I say.

And again he looks at me like I’m a sad mental patient beating against the walls of my padded room. Oh well. All rebels start as crazy people. I get that. Accept this role. “Parker, how long have you been giving me injections?”

He looks up to the ceiling, deliberating on this question. “Since your thirteenth birthday. I remember because I thought it was such a sad thing to happen to a child on a celebratory day. But now I’ve gotten used to it. Most of my patients come to me the month around their thirteenth birthday.”

“Would it surprise you to know that for all four years that you gave me those injections, I never once received my gift?”

He shrugs, a sad burden in his eyes. “No surprise. You’re like many of the rest. It’s such a stubborn epidemic we’re up against.”

“When you say ‘like many’ don’t you mean ‘all of the rest’? Has one adolescent receiving the injections ever received their gift?”

He startles at the question. Thinks on it. “Well, no, but that’s the purpose of the project and they are constantly resynthesizing the serum to make it better.”

“No, they’re constantly resynthesizing it to make it stronger.”

“Em, I understand that in your mind, you’ve constructed—”

I hold up a hand again and Parker pauses. “Now what if I told you that when the injections wore off, both the time I was sick and could not have them, and again when I escaped Austin Valley, my gift surfaced?” I thread my arms across my chest, sit back and wait for him to answer.

He stares at the corner of the room, disbelief and skepticism taking turns battling for dominance on his facial features. “Wait,” he says, shaking his head, not looking at me. “So you have your gift?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe the injections are the reason it was suppressed?”

“I know they are,” I say.

“But why…?”

And herein lies where I’ll have to unravel this confusing ball of lies for Parker, and make him believe in me and not Vider. The best way to accomplish this is not something I think I’ll enjoy doing to someone who over the years has become my friend. But Vider plays dirty and to outmaneuver him so will I.

“Parker, for four years you’ve been putting children through unnecessary, mind-numbing pain and not to help them, but rather to suppress their gods-given gifts. You’ve unknowingly been taking formula synthesized from stem fluid stolen from Middling infants and injecting it into innocent, healthy children. And because of what you’ve done, one of them, the very first of them, Rogue Vider, is about to die. If you don’t help me then you’ll be responsible for his death. And if you ignore his death, then I’m sure many more will stack up at your feet, since I suppose you have injected hundreds of children.”

He straightens reflexively. His eyes widen. Mouth drops open.

“You weren’t given a choice about learning the truth. But you will be given one now,” I say, a fierce venom in my words. “Are you going to right your wrongs? Are you going to save the people you’ve unknowingly harmed?”

Chapter Eight

After my speech, Parker didn’t merely agree to help, he begged. I gave him the full history and he listened, many times flinching or darting his eyes away, obviously dealing with his own internal conflict about being involved. He agreed to travel with me tomorrow night to Rogue’s farm, but needed some time to get his affairs in order.

I threw myself on Zack’s couch as he led the doctor to the door and dismissed him. I wasn’t as good at this game of manipulation as Vider, and I didn’t have the gift of mind control to back it up. All I had was the truth and people’s moral fibers to pick at. It all felt too much like a game, and not like what it was, real people and their lives.

“That was brilliant to watch,” Zack says from his place leaning against the doorway.

I remove my arm draped across my eyes and stare up at the newly plastered ceiling. “It was manipulation and it worked,” I say in a robotic voice. “I used guilt and authority I don’t own to make him help.”

He shakes his head and walks into the room, taking a seat in the armchair across from me. “You broke through President Vider’s brainwashing, which I’m seeing is pretty strong for most. I’m not sure why it doesn’t work on you and Rogue, and only partly works on me, but it probably explains the reason you were classified as a Defect.”

I sit up suddenly. “You’re the biggest Defect I know. Only unclassified.”

He smiles, a tired one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, I guess so.” He’s undone his shirt a few buttons and his tie hangs on the banister outside the room. “What will you do tomorrow?” Zack asks.

I fling myself back down on the sofa a bit melodramatically. “You mean before I smuggle a doctor out of the Valley?” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.

“Only you…” he says, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ve got plans to meet a certain brilliant mastermind,” I say, spinning a lock of one of my golden curls around my finger.

“Oh, here?” he asks, not an ounce of concern in his voice.

I sit up and shake my head. “Of course not. I don’t want to put you under any more suspicion. Nona and I will meet in the old campsite. I thought it would be a good chance to get a full update from her on the rebellion. I left her a note this afternoon.”

“I don’t mind if you meet here,” he says, shaking his head.

“Thanks, but arrangements have already been made.”

“Can I come though?” Zack asks. “I haven’t had an opportunity to receive a proper update on what Nona has been working on.”

“Yes,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.

“What?” he asks in response to my unabashed grin.

“I’m just stupidly happy that we’re all working together. It’s beautiful and if it wasn’t for Rogue’s condition, I think I’d actually be able to fully enjoy all this.”

Zack nods, but it’s a solemn one. “Yeah, when you told Dr. Parker that Rogue might die, you were—”

“Totally exaggerating,” I say, completing his thought with a sly smile. “I learned exaggeration from the President and decided to employ it in my favor.”

“That’s a relief,” Zack says, sliding low in the chair and looking up at the ceiling, fatigue obviously creeping over him. “You were convincing enough I believed it.”

“Well, Rogue’s condition is serious enough that I came to the Valley. But I’m certain Parker can help him.”

He nods, relief in his eyes. “Your instincts are always good on these things.” We’re quiet for a long while. It feels comforting to have Zack nearby and not have to fill the time together with too much talk.

Finally he yawns and says, “Nona will be so happy to see you.”

I nod. Smile. “She’ll be happy to see you too,” I say to him. “She wrote in one of her notes to me that she loves it when you come by the house, but hates that it’s to take Dee out.”

He shrugs, a defeated look on his face.

“Do you think that relationship is helping your rank inside my father’s office?” I ask, pushing to a half-seated, half-reclining position.

“I know it is. Otherwise I wouldn’t do it. Chief Fuller favors me over the other new hires, bringing me in on special projects and giving me access to more files than the rest.”

It’s always weird when I hear Zack refer to my father as Chief Fuller. It reminds me how professional their relationship is. “Oh, well then I guess it’s worth it,” I say and then squint my face with sudden morbid frustration. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Your unhappiness isn’t worth that. I know you don’t like Dee and I’m sure—”

“It’s fine, Em,” Zack says, his voice monotone. “If it helps our cause then I’ll do it.”

“Well, she doesn’t deserve you.”

And for only a second a smile springs to his mouth, lighting up his eyes. He connects with me and it disappears, covered again with the overly serious mask he wears full-time. I regard him, how different and similar he is to how I always remembered. “I guess, now that it’s safe to say and all, I had the most stubborn crush on you for too many years,” I say, my stupid mouth spilling my mind’s thoughts.

Zack’s head flips up, the tiredness of his eyes completely erased and replaced with astonishment. “What?”

I giggle. “I know, it’s lame to say, but it seemed fitting based on where we are and where we came from and where we’re going.”

He shakes his head and darts his eyes away. “You told me that because it’s safe to say now that you’re in love with Rogue.”

“Probably.” I giggle again.

“Stop it,” he says, an angry sharpness to his voice as he regards the ceiling with a dark intensity.

“What?” I say, still giggling. “I just think it’s funny that a bum like me ever fancied a prince like you. Sorry. You can totally go shower off my cooties right now if you’d like.”

He stands at once and strides out of the room, each step coated with palpable hostility.

“What? What did I do wrong?” I say to his back as he flees, completely confused by his sudden anger.

He freezes. Turns and looks at me, his eyes so perfectly sad right now. “Em, you’re my best friend, right?”

I nod.

“Then please don’t ever tell me how you used to feel about me.” He gives a pained laugh that actually makes my heart hurt. “Don’t tell me about how you felt prior to Rogue. Let’s simply let all that be a mystery, all right?”

I swallow down a sudden pain so raw I think tears will soon be its companion. Unable to look at him one second longer I search the rug’s intricate pattern. “Sorry,” I tell the floor. “I just thought it would be funny to share.”

“You’re my best friend,” Zack says. “The only one I’ve ever wanted. Don’t make things weird, please.”

I nod to the rug, too mortified to look at him. From my peripheral I spy his nod and he turns and leaves. I squeeze my eyelids together and the tears push out, tears marking so many different hurts, but the freshest is that I’ve upset Zack with honest words. Ones I thought he’d laugh about, but instead resents me for. A new reality unfolds in my mind and its implications make a dozen more tears mark my eyes.

Chapter Nine

I leave Zack’s house an hour before sunrise. He was sleeping when I slipped the note under his door. This sneaking out of houses in the morning and leaving notes behind to detail my plans is becoming an awful habit. The note I left for Zack was much shorter than the one to Rogue. I told him the time to meet Nona and me and that I’d decided to leave early for the campsite. The truth was I didn’t want to awake to see his face, which would probably look different to me today. He’d been so angry with me last night, resenting me for my uncouth joke. Making me feel embarrassed. Making me feel ashamed and like my stupid emotions could ruin our friendship.

All night my heart hurt with confusion. Half the time I was angry with Zack and then the other half I sought his forgiveness. On a dozen occasions I had to stop myself from knocking at his door, confronting him with my thoughts. And on one of those occasions I walked to my door, convinced I’d actually open it this time and cross the fifteen feet to his room. But right then I heard the creak of the floor boards outside my door and I darted for the guest bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. I locked myself in there for two hours and then dragged myself to bed, heavy and raw from all the tears I’d cried.

Knowing there was no way in the world I was going to be able to sleep, I dream traveled to Kalalau Valley in Kaua’i, Hawaii. It was a perfect place to dream travel since the terrain makes it inaccessible except by foot. I sat on the top of a western-facing cliff and dangled my feet over the side. In three months, I’d dream traveled all over the world and throughout history. At first it had been a wild ride of sceneries, always with Rogue by my side. Now my journeys were more about coming to know myself. Strange how travel makes existentialists of us all. The impossible beauty of Kalalau Valley, which is both rugged and pristine, soothed me into a Zen state. When I pulled my consciousness back to my body, I felt ready for the many challenges that I’d face.

Although tonight Parker and I will have to hike out of the Valley and I should probably rest, all I want to do is move. I need to clear my head. To focus. Getting Parker through these hills is going to be a challenge. He’s a doctor who gives hundreds of injections a day. And although I’m sure his trigger finger is strong, I’m guessing he has a limited lung capacity. And then I’ll have to take him on a day’s ride through the rough Oregon terrain. I’m a little concerned with how he’ll fare, but as long as I get him back to Rogue with his wits about him then I’ll be happy. And I’m not sure what he can do for Rogue, but if anyone knows what’s going on with him it will be Parker.

The last three months had been filled with laughter and love and an array of amazing dream travel locations. It had also been packed with a lot of heartbreak. Two or three times a day, I’d find Rogue in the barn or the house or the garden convulsing with a seizure-producing headache. They’d gotten better at first and then became exponentially worse. Frequent. Debilitating. Leaving Rogue with a cold tiredness in his beautiful green eyes. Our daily routine is always interrupted by the headaches. Worst of all is the anxiety that traces Rogue’s face when he awakes each morning. He always plasters a smile on his face, holds me in tight to him, and wishes me a good morning. But under this armor I sense the fear, the dread of the headaches that will plague the day. And any closeness between us is often interrupted by a headache. They’re the demons all around us, dictating our life, controlling us by harming Rogue. They’re always the threat to our well-being and our love. The only threat.

Rogue has come so far and allowed me close when I find him suffering from the pain. He allows me to pull him into my arms and hold him tight against my chest and whisper comforting words into his ear. But his surrender to my help comes at a cost that I spy in the defeated looks he gives me afterwards. I know he doesn’t want me to see him like that, but there’s no avoiding it. And I can’t allow him to suffer alone. I almost wished at times I had the headaches too, so he could return the affection and support, but for some reason they haven’t beset me.

For the longest time I actually thought the headaches were why Rogue kept his distance from me. Sure, he allowed me close, but never close enough and never for long. Too many times he put a halt to a passionate kiss, one that made me crazy for him. He’d back away, an unreadable expression in his eyes, and then he’d make an excuse, leaving me feeling rejected and confused.

I knew for a long time he was hiding something. I could feel it between us when he’d dart his eyes away as I’d approach him with a flirtatious look in my eyes. I really thought it had to do with the headaches. One day I snuck up on him while he was building the chicken coup. I’d promised to be working in the garden. And as soon as he spied me he jumped into hypermode, whipping his shirt over his head. Then he dashed for the tool shed, pretending he hadn’t seen me coming. It was always the same strange behavior, covering up, keeping a distance, pushing me away when things got too intimate. And I was tired of it. I wanted answers. I wanted to know if he had changed his mind about me being there. Maybe he didn’t want me anymore and didn’t know how to say it. Maybe he felt obligated to me because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Rogue,” I said, a scold in my voice. “Why do you do that?”

“What? Work hard to make this place amazing?” he said, grabbing the pliers.

“You hide from me and I can’t figure out why,” I said, stepping closer than I knew he wanted me. He brushed me off as he pinched part of the wire. “Tell me why you rushed to put on your shirt. Tell me why you keep such a distance from me. Tell me why you push me away.”

Rogue’s sobering eyes searched me. Then he shook his head with a deliberate force. “No, Em,” he said, going back to his work. “Please don’t. You know you have all the advantages in this relationship, so please don’t force this one on me.”

So he was avoiding me. I wasn’t imagining it. My heart suddenly felt full of stones. I studied him. He truly looked scared, one thing I didn’t want him to be. I was certain he was again hiding another of his demons. Whatever he was hiding I didn’t want to expose from him like this. Yes, I was tired of being put at a distance, but whatever he needed I’d give him. Again and again. No matter what.

“Fine,” I breathed, backing away. “But I want to say one thing. You’re not obligated to have me here. If you want me to leave, if this isn’t working for you”—I motioned between the two of us—“then just say so.”

His face pinched with acute pain. His mouth popped open and he stared at me with utter disbelief. “That’s what you think?”

I pressed my lips together, shook my head. “I don’t know what to think. No one has ever loved me like you do, with all your heart and then also with such strange reservation.”

“Em, I don’t know what to say…”

And my heart twisted, tightening my chest, stealing my oxygen. “Don’t say anything then. I’m going to go deal with caterpillars.” I turned, my long flowing skirt catching briar patches and everything else. An ache caught in my throat. I wanted to be alone with the dirt and vegetables and my tears of confusion.

“Em,” Rogue said as I scampered back to the garden, away from him.

“What?” I said, giving him a dissatisfied look over my shoulder.

He had his hands on the hem of his shirt, pulling it up as he spoke. “Please don’t leave me once you see this. I can explain. Or I can’t, but don’t leave me.”

Then he yanked his shirt over his head to reveal it all. I had never seen him with his shirt off. To finally spy the lines of his well-defined muscles was stunning. He was indeed more beautiful than I imagined but that was not what grabbed my attention. My eyes darted to a single spot on his chest and everything became clear. I knew with such certainty his reason for keeping distance between us. Over his heart there was a tattoo. In greenish ink were two letters about an inch in height. One was uppercase, the other lowercase. Both in cursive. There on Rogue’s sculpted chest, right over his heart, was my name. Em. My feet brought me to him without my realizing it. His cautious eyes were trying to read me, searching mine, which must have been full of wonder. After a nervous sigh he said, “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I wasn’t ready to show you this. Didn’t know how you’d take it. I was afraid of what you’d think.”

I flicked my eyes up to his and offered an embarrassed smile. My hand rose, fingers a few inches from his chest, and then I gave him a look, one asking for permission. He nodded and my fingertips touched his chest, which was warm and smooth. I traced the letters permanently marking his skin. But my brain was having trouble understanding what had transpired. He clapped his hand over mine, pressing it more firmly into his chest.

“When did you do this?” I said, looking directly up at him.

“Last year. On my seventeenth birthday.”

“What? Why?” I said.

“I did things over the years to keep me connected to the parts of my past that I cherished. And you always weighed on my heart. It felt fitting. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And when I did, I couldn’t figure out how to explain it to you.”

“And what if someone else saw it? How would you explain it to them?” I said.

“No one was ever going to see it,” he said with a confident tone.

“Rogue, were you always planning on living alone?”

A dark shadow fell on his face. A haunting expression. “Yes, but then you found me.”

I traced my fingers over my name again and smiled, one of relief. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“That’s the craziest thing you ever thought,” he said in a low voice, a tiny smile tucked at the corners of his mouth.

I snaked my arms around him, exploding with excitement to finally be this close to him. My face rested against his bare chest as I hugged him into me, enjoying his warmth as the sun set over the hills.

“You really don’t mind that I had your name tattooed on me?” Rogue asked into my hair.

“Mind?” I pulled back and peered up at him.

“I thought you’d think I was obsessed with you.”

“Well, you are, aren’t you?”

“More than a little bit,” Rogue said, a cute coyness in his voice.

“Good. Then we’re even,” I said, pulling him back to me.

He brought my chin up with a single finger and kissed me, breathing me in with relieved breaths. And I kissed him back, reciprocating the same intensity. To know his distance wasn’t because of the headaches or because he didn’t want me took a huge burden off my heart. And to know he’d loved me so much, for so long, that he was afraid of scaring me away tied my heart to his with pure devotion. That’s why that night I left him.

Chapter Ten

With the aspirations of actually getting some sleep, I set up Rogue’s tent like he had it when I first found his campsite. The fall winds rattle the branches and cause the leaves to dance around, making it impossible to rest. I keep jerking upright, afraid someone has discovered the old camping area. This is an unrealistic fear since it’s so far off the current paths and these hills are protected by the forestry department. It’s actually illegal to trespass on these grounds due to the rare vegetation growing here. When I’d camped in this spot three months ago, I’d been with Rogue. I’d felt safer then because he knows how to get around his father’s hyper-senses, which can probably smell me a mile away right now. Anxiety makes it impossible to relax so instead I station myself outside the tent and watch for any signs of someone invading my camp.

Zack isn’t supposed to meet Nona and me until five o’clock, which is why he startles me when he shows up an hour early. I’m drawing up a map of the warehouse section of the labs when I spot his bright blond hair through the trees. Our eyes collide as he approaches. I dart my head down, trying and probably failing to act like I haven’t seen him some twenty yards away. I scurry into the tent. From inside this shelter I can pretend to be organizing supplies or gathering more paper for the maps I’m creating. From the tent, I don’t have to watch Zack approach. I don’t have to know he’s watching me as he nears.

I’m sitting crossed-legged, pulling rations out of my backpack when Zack kneels down and pops his head into the tent. “Hi,” he says, failing to cover up the awkward expression on his face.

“Hi,” I say absentmindedly, as I pile the things I just took out of the bag back into it, pretending to be mindful about its organization.

“You were gone when I woke up this morning,” he says, sounding disappointed.

“Oh, well I left you a note. Thought I’d get an early start,” I say, my face burning with frustration.

“I woke up at five. How early of a start did you need?”

I manage to pull my eyes up to his. He’s stupidly smiling. And for some reason looking at him right now makes my throat ache. He has no idea how mad he’s made me. I’ve always felt fragile when it came to Zack, maybe because in his well-meaning ways he’s overly critical of me. But I can’t take back what I said, and the awkwardness it created. I used to wish I could make myself more proper, one of the socialites who caught his attention. Now I wish that I never cared, didn’t feel his rejection like a needle under my skin. I always knew if I was honest with him about my feelings for him, he’d reject me. And I thought I wouldn’t care now if he did, because I have Rogue, but it hits my ego. If I would have just kept my mouth shut…

“Why did you leave so early?” Zack asks, after waiting for my reply and not getting one.

I crawl out of the tent, dragging more paper with me, and take a seat next to my map drawings. Zack moves back to make room for me. I throw a contemptuous glare at him as I pull the drawing pad onto my lap. “You know why,” I say. The only advantage of fighting with Zack about this is that I’m used to patronizing him and I can just act like this is another one of those times. “Why did you wake up at five? Is that what time you rouse to ensure your hair is perfect by seven?”

I imagine he rolls his eyes at me and my childishness, but I won’t dare chance a glance at him. I do hear the tired sigh that rolls out of his mouth. “Do you know why I said what I did last night?”

I match his sigh with my own, but mine reeks of annoyance. I’m really good at fighting with Zack. It’s like a hobby of mine. “Because you totally don’t get when I’m joking, which I was,” I say. “Not in a million years would I a) like you in that way or b) do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

Feeling somewhat lighter, having gotten all those words out with the perfect degree of snark to my voice, I bring my eyes up to meet his. He gives a slow nod, his jaw flexing several times. “Right,” he says, his voice tight. “Strange after all this time and I don’t get your jokes.”

“Totally strange,” I say, not liking the look of disappointment he’s giving me.

“Are these the maps of the labs?” Zack says, picking up the drawings that lay on the ground between us.

“Yes, Nona wants them to be as detailed as possible.”

Zack studies the first map and then flips through the stack. “You saw a lot of the labs the night you and Rogue broke in there.”

“Well, we had to find the stupid meds.” Then angrily I add, “Which don’t work.” I crunch up a piece of paper and throw it at the burnt out campfire. “But most of these drawings are the areas we ran through. There were dozens of lab rooms, warehouses, and a huge server room.”

“The warehouse seems like the ideal place for storage,” Zack says, handing the maps back to me. His gaze is less heavy than it was a minute ago. Zack and I have never been able to stay mad at each other for long. I give him a forced smile.

He reciprocates with a similar smile. And if one look can say a million words then it’s the expression Zack is giving me right now, but I have no idea what it means. I’ve never spoken his language.

I nod at the maps. “Are these accurate based on the blueprints you’ve seen of the labs?”

“Yes. I wish I could have taken them, but I think I can fill in some blanks here,” he says, scratching his head and turning one around to look at it more closely.

“And now the question remains where do they—” The words disappear from my mouth as my thoughts are stabbed with an assaulting disruption. I scramble to my feet, backing up as I do. Zack’s face explodes with worry as he registers the shock on my face. He darts to a standing position and turns around, shielding me with his body, ready to protect me from what’s coming. His shoulders release at once and he relaxes, taking a steadying breath.

Rogue’s only fifteen feet away when he slows to normal human pace. He takes each step deliberately, his chin tucked into his chest, brow low. I imagine each of his hulkish steps making a thunderous sound. He looks madder than hell.

I’m still backing up. Still searching my mind for how I’m going to deal with him. “Rogue?” I finally say, a worried question in my voice.

“Rogue, are you all right?” Zack asks as Rogue stalks past him not even glancing in his direction.

“Later, brother. Em and I have to discuss something,” he says, his mouth pinching together, eyes ready to burn me alive.

I back up until I meet the rough assault of the bark of a tree. I straighten against it and offer my sweetest smile. “Hi, babe.” My voice breaks on the last word.

He grips the tree on either side of my shoulders. Brings his head down low so he’s hovering just over me. “Em?” he says, his face right up against mine. His breath hot.

“Yes, sweetie?” I say, my hands pinned by my side. My heart racing in my chest.

“You stole my horse and ran away.”

From behind Rogue Zack chokes out a laugh. “You did what?!” Zack says in astonished amusement. “Why?”

Rogue, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me, leans in an inch closer, a burning in his eyes. “Yes, ‘why’ is the question. It’s the one I’ve been asking all the way here.” He doesn’t look hurt, which is good, but he looks angry enough to roast me right now.

“I put it in the note—”

“Oh, Em, you left him a note…” I spy Zack to the side, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Rogue says, flipping his head around to Zack, giving me a small respite from his seething stare. “She left me a note and snuck away in the middle of the night. Oh, and did I mention, she stole my horse.”

Again Zack laughs. Then he slaps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he says, backing up. “I’ll be over here.” But he only reverses two steps, his interest hinged on us.

“I had to sneak away,” I say, and Rogue turns his gaze back on me. “You wouldn’t come to and see Parker so I was going to bring him to you. But you’re here now. So—”

“Yes,” Rogue growls. “It took forever. Zack is slow.”

“What?” Zack asks, having been listening.

“It’s his other horse,” I say, angling my head at Zack, looking at him with a pleading expression, hoping he will soften Rogue up a bit for me.

Instead, Zack narrows his eyes at me with confusion. “Wait, Em, you said Rogue was too weak to get here, not that he wouldn’t come and see Parker.”

Rogue’s head flips too quickly over his shoulder at Zack. That superhuman speed still catches me off guard. “Oh, did she?” Slowly, like he’s gauging how he’s about to react, he turns around. His scowling eyes are enough to punish me for eternity. “Too weak, huh? Is that what you told Zack about why I wouldn’t come with you?”

I slide down on the tree an inch, but Rogue makes up the distance easily, leaning down over me. “I might have said that,” I say, chewing on my lip.

“Too weak, huh?” he repeats and then in a flash he picks me up at the waist and slings me over his shoulder. “Too weak, huh?”

I slap him on the back, unable to control the laughter that falls out of my mouth as blood rushes to my face from being upside down. “Rogue, let me down,” I plead, again smacking him on the back.

“Oh, I will,” he says, turning around and stalking in the opposite direction. “But when I do, it won’t be because I’m too weak. Damn your lies, Em.” He stalks past Zack, who’s giving me a wide-eyed expression. “We’ll be right back, brother.”

With his crazy grace Rogue somehow ducks into the tent with me on his back. He lays me down gently, not an ounce of brutality in his actions, although I know he’s still mad. He pins both my hands to the ground beside me. Then he slides his face close to mine.

“Em…” he says, and I feel the hurt and frustration in his voice and it assaults me like a rollercoaster to the heart.

“Don’t be mad,” I say. “I knew you needed help and you’re too stubborn to come see Parker.”

“So you ran off to fetch him and lied to Zack?”

I nod. “Yes, that’s what happened,” I say, with no way to defend myself. “If Zack knew I’d gone behind your back he would have been less likely to help. And Parker would be more likely to help if he thought you couldn’t travel.”

“Zack would always help,” Rogue says.

He allows me to wiggle my hands out of his. I cup his face and instantly sense the anger seep from him. Seeing Rogue right now feels like warm sunshine has been poured into my being, healing me and gracing me with abundance. My chest seems to expand from this lightness, all the burdens of the past few days whisking away like smoke. “I didn’t think you’d come after me. It’s so good to see you,” I say.

Rogue turns his face into my hands, relishing my touch against the stubble of his cheeks. He runs his lips against my palms, kisses my fingertips. “You didn’t know I’d come after you?”

I shake my head at him. “You were so insistent on not coming here to see Parker.”

“You, Em, are a beautiful mess.”

“Your mess,” I say and press my lips to his, which taste of salt.

“Yes, mine.”

“I missed you like crazy,” I say as I kiss along his jaw, enjoying the way he presses into me, savoring my touch like a treasure.

“I missed you, babe,” he says, a warmth in his gorgeous almond-shaped eyes.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I only wanted to do something to make you better,” I say and realize my hands are so tightly wrapped around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I push his hair back from his eyes. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Right now, I’m absolutely perfect,” he says, gazing into my eyes, making me feel crazy.

I can’t help the squeal that escapes my mouth when he leans in and growls against my neck. He slides his nose along my jaw and then brings his eyes level with mine. “I think we’re gonna have to finish this reunion later though.”

I nod, but don’t let go until I squeeze him into me once more. “I love you, Rogue. That’s why I did it.”

He pulls me to a seated position fast enough to make my head spin. “I know. And if you didn’t do beautifully ridiculous stuff like this I probably wouldn’t love you so much.”

Chapter Eleven

When we exit the tent Zack is on the far side of the camp staring out at the forest. He turns when Rogue approaches and extends a hand to him. “Good to see you.”

“You too, my favorite friend, who would never desert me in the middle of the night,” Rogue says, a sly smile on his face as he turns around and looks at me.

I take a seat by the maps again, intent on getting them right before Nona arrives. Rogue traces his way back to me, giving a wolfish grin. He tucks himself in the spot behind me, a leg on either side of mine. Then he encircles my torso in his arms and tugs me into him. “Gonna have to sleep with one eye open from now on,” he whispers behind my ear.

I nuzzle backward. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks up at Zack, who’s toeing the dirt with his leather loafer. “Seriously, this one stole my horse. Can you believe this girl?”

Zack darts his eyes at me and then away. “Not most of the time,” he says with a soft laugh.

“I did it to get you help,” I say, already tired of defending my actions. “But now that you’re here you’ll see Parker when we meet him down by the trail.”

“The hell I will,” Rogue says, a laugh in his voice.

I whip around. “But you’re here now. You have to see him. He might be able to help you.”

Rogue’s eyes drop. He picks up my hand and holds it against his lips, kissing it once. There’s a new ache in his every movement. “Look, Em, I don’t wanna see Dr. Parker. You may not understand but please trust me when I say seeing him has to be a last resort for me. The very last.”

“But Rogue?”

“I’ll manage and maybe when we’re in the lab we’ll find the right meds or different ones, but—”

“Please listen to reason—”

“Em, I need you to trust me on this. I can’t see Dr. Parker. Not yet anyway. That guy and I need to stay as far apart as possible. Believe me on this,” he says, his voice coated in conviction.

I regard him silently for several seconds.

“Look,” Rogue says, his voice a little lighter. “Stop harassing me on this. Stop stealing my horse and sneaking off and just love me for the pain in the ass that I am.”

This conversation leaves me with an uneasiness in my stomach. There’s everything wrong with what Rogue is asking but there’s no way to argue with him on it. I want to get reinforcements from Zack but I can’t turn away from Rogue’s strange eyes, which look too wise all of a sudden, lacking his usual lightness. As much as I want to, I can’t make him do anything. I can’t force him to see Parker or get help. And the more we argue about it the more I feel like I’m pushing him away. It had been like this for months, and now I realize I have to acquiesce to his stubbornness. He’s won this one.

Finally I lay my head against his chest and sigh. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

He smooths back the knots of curls from the side of my head. “It is what I want. Thanks, babe.”

I know that Zack is witnessing all of this, but I can’t keep myself from snaking my arms around Rogue and pulling him in closer. He’s my pain and strength in this moment. He’s my reason for wanting to be a Rebel and also the reason I think we should travel as far from this valley as possible. He makes me perfect and so very flawed in my love. Makes me realize all the ways I could love him better, but in this moment we are perfect. Reunited. Happy in each other’s arms. Accepting of each other’s stupid decisions.

“Hey, Em?” Zack says, and I recognize his tone. It’s a light one, full of curiosity.

I straighten out of Rogue’s arms and rotate my head in the direction Zack is looking. Whipping into a standing position, I take off in a sprint at the sight of her. She’s maybe taller, probably my imagination though. My sister is me in every way: long flowing, unmanageable blonde curls, average height, and scrutinizing blue eyes. Freckles still grace Nona’s arms and cheeks and she has a rebellious demeanor that was inborn. I fling my arms around her with a death grip of a hug. She smiles into my shoulder. Her smell. Her laughter. Her tears fill me up. Also, like me, she’s always been quick to tears. Unlike me, she’s usually ashamed to cry. Not now though. Not when the tears are full of joy. I haven’t seen her in a long three months. That’s too long. An almost unmanageable length of time to not hear her laughter. To not watch her grow.

I put her at elbow’s distance and regard her with a quiet concern. “You’re all right?”

She slides a tear back with a knuckle and smiles. “I love surprises. I’m super all right.”

I tug her in for another hug, but just then she must spy something that’s of more importance. She tears out of my embrace and races over to the camp. “Roguey!” she says, and connects with Rogue in an assault of hands and arms and loving embrace.

Roguey. I forgot about that silly nickname Nona had for him. He’s standing now and hugs her back fiercely, picking her up off her feet and spinning her around. When he sets her down she has new tears flowing down her cheeks.

“I believed Em when she said you were alive, I just didn’t really believe until now,” she says, pushing away the overflow leaking from her eyes. Red blotches mark her swelling cheeks.

Rogue squeezes her to him again, patting her on the back. He claps a hand on her shoulder and kneels down so they’re eye to eye. “Believe it, Nona. I’m here.”

A grin so wide it shows most of her teeth spreads across her cheeks. “Did you see that I’m almost as tall as Em?” Nona says, throwing her thumb in my direction.

“I did,” Rogue says, winking at her. “You’ll probably tower over her one day.”

“Probably,” Nona agrees with a confident nod.

I roll my eyes at this ridiculous exchange.

“You’re taller too,” Nona observes. “At least more than I remember.”

“Yeah, just a bit,” Rogue says, draping his arm around my shoulder as I pull up next to him. Nona’s eyes flick from me to Rogue, back and forth several times. And then her mouth pops open.

“Oh…” she says, drawing out the word, a silly grin lighting up her freckled face. She’s just figured out what I kept out of the messages I left for her over these long three months.

Chapter Twelve

“What do you mean?” I say, my voice vibrating with shock.

Nona wears an expression too old for a thirteen-year-old. One taxed with the weight of a criminal world. “It just happened,” she says. “They converted the first Defect this week. I was going to put it in my next message to you, but you’re here now.”

Converted. Vider is actually stripping Defects of their ability to dream travel. He’s convinced Defects that by being converted to Middling they’ll have a race to belong to instead of being outcast. I was supposed to be the first Defect converted, but I escaped. And now…

“Did you know about this?” I spin around to Zack, my tone accusatory.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you,” he says.

“You had every chance,” I say.

“Why does it matter? We knew this was coming.” He’s changed his tone. It’s the one I picture he uses at meetings with my father and his minions.

“It matters because we have to stop this. We can’t allow Vider to steal gifts and dream traveling abilities from innocent kids,” I say, my voice erratic. “Who was it?” I ask Nona.

“Scott,” she says, a speck of trauma in her eyes.

“The kid from your class?”

She nods. “He elected to do it though. He was tired of getting the injections. Of the pain. And he’s not unique in that way. There’s a lot kids who are willing to sign up for conversion early. They’ve offered incentives for Defects who convert before occupation age.”

“Like what?” I say, a weighty anger in my tone.

“For one, they can pick their own Middling occupation,” Nona says, holding up a finger.

Damn. That is compelling. Even Dream Travelers can’t choose their own occupation. They’re assigned.

Nona ticks off another finger. “And they’re moved into these new apartments in the Middling neighborhood. They’re sparkling and new,” she says, rolling her eyes. She holds up a third finger. “And better than all that, there’s no more parental guardianship. The kids are considered adults, even though they’re not. Most of the Defects I’ve talked to love the idea of not having to answer to their parents anymore.”

“So it’s only a matter of time…” I say.

She nods. “And Defects aren’t even deterred by what the conversion did to Scott. They think it’s cool, like he’s all grown up now.”

“What did it do to him?” I ask, drawing out each word, afraid of her answer.

“He’s a robot,” Nona says, her voice full of offense.

I turn to Zack, who nods in agreement. “You really should have told me about this,” I say, scowling at him before turning back to Nona.

“Go on,” I encourage.

“I saw him when he was released from the lab,” she says, a vague disapproval growing in her tone. “His head was bandaged, but he said he felt fine. He was walking and talking, but there was something vacant in him. I tried to make a joke and he didn’t laugh, only stared at me blankly. Since then, when I see him he’s not interested in talking to anyone or doing anything but operating, like a robot. And the other kids say it’s because he’s all grown up now and doesn’t have time to play. They think that’s cool. But I think he’s hollow inside, like they pulled out his soul.”

A sharp shiver runs down my arms. My eyes find Rogue’s. He’s wearing a quiet expression of outrage.

“What do they do to them? For conversion?” I ask to the group.

Nona shrugs, as does Rogue. Zack chances to look at me directly, although he knows he’s in trouble with me. “It’s supposedly an easy surgery. There’s a part of the dorsal lateral cortex that when removed takes away dream travel ability.”

“Brain surgery!” I say louder than I should in these woods. “Removing a part of a human’s brain doesn’t sound easy, Zack.”

His expression hardens. “I realize that. I’m simply relaying what I discovered snooping around.”

My fingers find my temples and press into them. “All things you could have told me.”

“Look,” Rogue says, his tone calm, soothing. “Zack isn’t the enemy here.”

“I know. I know,” I say in a rush before turning back toward Nona. “All right, well, where are you with your plans?”

Her shoulders shrug with defeat. “This plan is harder than I thought. I say that we just destroy the labs altogether.”

“And how are we going to do that?” I say, shaking my head at her a bit incredulously.

“Well, one of my jobs is to locate explosives,” she says.

“And how’s that going?” Zack asks.

“Poorly. You’d think at least one Dream Traveler in this valley would know how to make a bomb,” she says, tying her arms across her chest.

“Actually I wouldn’t,” Zack says, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Why don’t you see if one of the newly recruited Middlings has any expertise on the matter? But be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” Nona says, a clever grin on her mouth. “I’ve got the perfect story. It doesn’t raise any flags.”

“This should really be my job,” I say, trying to breathe past the weight lying on my chest.

“I can do it, Em,” Nona says with conviction.

“Fine,” I say with a heavy sigh. “But we aren’t going to blow up the entire lab. Firstly, that would involve too much explosives and I only want you finding small ones. Like firecrackers.”

“Okay, okay,” Nona says, looking slightly disappointed.

“Also, there might be people in the labs when we break in and no one can get hurt. Our bomb can’t harm an innocent Reverian.”

Nona grunts with frustration. “Fine, no killing blameless people,” she says with a mock reluctance. “All right, you find the locations of the Defect injections and I’ll find some explosives.”

“Piece of cake,” I say, finally allowing a smile to flick to my lips.

Chapter Thirteen

After Nona and Zack left, Rogue was all too happy to let me go off to meet Parker alone. We’re supposed to rendezvous by the river half an hour after dusk. I’ve never seen that look of avoidance in Rogue’s eyes. He didn’t want me out of his sight the last time we were hiding in the Valley, but now he’s fine to let me stroll off on my own. At every mention of Parker’s name Rogue clams up. His eyes grow distant. But as far as I know there’s nothing nefarious about the doctor. He’s the one, of everyone in the labs, who I’ve chosen to trust.

I’m slightly remorseful that I had Parker hike this far into the woods. He will expect that we’re leaving the Valley. We aren’t. He’ll have made arrangements for the trip, which will be unnecessary now. And after I talk to him, he will have to turn around and hike the three miles back to town. But now I know what his role is. Though convincing him of it might be harder than asking him to leave the Valley to save Rogue.

Parker is tucked beside a madrone tree when I wrestle my way through the brush. From the overhead light of the moon and stars I catch his eager expression. The reflection off his glasses makes it impossible to read his eyes, but the tense smile tells me enough.

“You ready to go?” he says, injecting a false enthusiasm into his voice. Then his eyes search me, a calculated scrutiny in them. I know at once he’s wondering why I’m not carrying a bag like him or dressed for a hike.

I approach Parker carefully, like a dog I’m trying to pin and afraid might dart another direction if I’m not careful. I’ve always trusted Parker. His nurse, Tammy, never garnered much favor from me. But Parker cared in a way that was hard to fake. He sincerely felt that he was doing something of importance, not merely a job. Most days he’d stare at me with his quiet kind eyes and give his uninterrupted attention, listening to my stories, my jokes, my current affairs. Parker is young enough that I think he related to me. Toward the end of our time together things were more rushed, but only because he couldn’t keep up with the demands of the labs.

“Do you need to stop off and get your gear?” Parker says as I approach, a skeptical look in his eyes. He appears ready for what was going to be a long journey, in khakis and a sturdy leather jacket. However Parker is too bony to appear fit for the eight-mile hike out over these hills. I’m relieved I don’t have to make him endure it.

“Parker,” I say when I pause a few feet away, “Rogue returned to the Valley today.”

“Oh,” he says with a squeak. “That makes this easy. Where is he? I’ll go to him now.” He hitches his bag higher up on his shoulder.

I shake my head at him. “I’m not sure why, but Rogue refuses to see you.” I pause, study him. And only hesitate a second before asking my burning question. “Did you do something to him?”

His head tucks back on his neck, giving him the appearance of double chins. He straightens. Shakes his head, his thick brown hair falling loose from the gel. “Rogue and I always got along fine, although I was a bit tentative with him since he was the first Defect.”

I nod. I’ve spent more time with Parker than most people. We’ve seen each other every day for over three years. He’s never, not once, given me a reason to dislike him. His bedside manner is perfect, neither overly casual nor robotic.

Rogue’s reaction earlier truly doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he want to see a person who I trust, who also has the experience to help him? Why wouldn’t he want to do something to relieve the headaches? At the farm he refused to travel to Austin Valley, saying it was an extra burden he didn’t want to endure right then. We fought about it off and on, usually with me stalking away, seething. That’s why I risked our love and my life to return to Austin Valley to get the one person who can help Rogue. But after getting so close to a solution, I’m having to turn Parker away. This feels like a waste, but how can I make Rogue do anything? He was more adamant about not seeing Parker than anything else and that’s saying a lot.

“So, you don’t want me to go see Rogue?” Parker asks, squinting at me through the darkness.

I shake my head. The babble of the river is a soothing music but I don’t feel especially relaxed right now. I’m confused. Unsure. “He’s here now, but he refuses to see you. I don’t know why. Probably because he likes to torture me.”

Parker gives me an uncomfortable glance.

I dismiss my remark with a wave of my hand. “Rogue thinks he can handle everything on his own. He’s being difficult. Maybe I can change his mind.”

Parker pinches the bridge of his nose and stares at the ground. “Well, I won’t be here to help. Sorry,” he says, giving me a half-apologetic shrug. “If I’m not leaving with you right now then I’m leaving anyway.”

“What?” I say, caught off guard by his full shift since last night. He had signed on to help, but still seemed terrified by the idea of leaving and going against Vider by helping his outcast son.

“I checked into some of the things you shared with me. I can’t find concrete evidence, but I can find enough suspicious pieces, things that don’t add up. And nothing contradicts what you say. What’s strange is there’s so much in plain sight now that I’m looking, but I never thought to look before.” He scratches his head, his arm, his side. A nervous habit. Looks up at me, startled. “Why didn’t I think to ask for so long? Why did I simply go along with all this? There’s so many things I never even had a curiosity about.”

I nod at him, realizing how frustrating this must be. I can’t relate. I always saw the contradiction in our society. But for someone seeing it for the first time, it must be jarring. “Parker, you were under brainwashing and who knows what else. The thing about Vider is he knows how to keep people happy so that they don’t ask questions.”

He nods. “Yeah, I’ve always been happy here. That’s why I never left.”

“I’m sorry to take that away from you,” I say, meaning it.

He shakes his head and ties his skinny fingers together again and again. “No, I’m glad you did. I’d rather know what I was doing and stop it, than be ignorant and happy. I couldn’t tell my family though.” He gives me a startling sober look, one that makes me want to put back up the facades I ripped from this man’s life. “They’re happy. As happy as I’ve always been. Overworked, but happy. My umma and appa deserve that since they aren’t doing anything wrong unknowingly, like I was.”

Parker means his mother and father. Umma and Appa. He still refers to them in his native Korean tongue. Thank the gods he doesn’t have a wife or he’d be in a real dilemma right now.

“I’m sorry, but Parker, you can’t leave. Neither can I.”

Parker bristles, regards me like I’ve insulted him. “Em, there’s no way I can go back to my work after what you told me. Do you know how difficult it was for me to inject patient after patient today? Child after child?” His voice cracks. His face too. “And then I searched and found the withdrawals from the Middling babies. I’d never been to that part of the lab. Never understood it, until I witnessed it firsthand today. Em,” he says, his voice a shiver. “I watched from a windowed door as they withdrew spinal fluid from a baby. An infant. That’s not what they were supposed to be doing. Who knows what they tell those doctors to convince them they’re doing the right thing. And the Middling parents have no idea.” He’s speaking in a panicked rush, his voice climbing with terror. “There’s no way to prove anything and there’s so many disconnects to the work. Like Zack said, they compartmentalized it all. And I—”

“Parker,” I say, my voice steady, “I realize you want to run, but you have nowhere to go.” Poor, sweet Parker. I never wanted to scar him with this, but there’s no other person I trust more for what I have planned.

“I could go back to where I grew up, up north,” he says.

“And they would replace you, and someone else would do your job.”

“But it wouldn’t be me.”

“And how would you sleep at night, knowing you ran from these injustices?”

He looks at the leaf-covered ground, ashamed. “I can’t stay.”

“I know you don’t want to. I don’t want to be here either. I don’t want to watch Rogue suffer. I don’t want to know Nona is receiving gift-suppressing-injections every day, but there’s certain things we have to do as Rebels.”

At the mention of the word his eyes flick to mine. “Rebels?” He says the word like he hasn’t heard it in a long time and it brings with it meaning and inspiration and passion.

“Yes, the Defects are not defective at all. We think for ourselves. We ask questions. We are Rebels. And you could be one too now that you know the truth.”

“A Rebel,” he says, testing the word in his mouth.

A smile flicks to my face. “You like the sound of that, huh?”

He returns the smile. A cautious one. “What would it involve?”

“Are you the only doctor who gives injections?”

“No, there are others but I don’t know them. They have their own patients. We aren’t encouraged to talk.”

I nod, having expected this. Everything is divided up at the labs, separate entrances for different patients and different patient types. Maybe ten doors flank the front of the building, all marked with numbers. Mine was always door 126. Parker’s office. I had suspected that Parker wasn’t the only one giving injections.

The wheels in my head spin at double speed, making sure the plan is laced together perfectly.

“What if,” Parker says, looking off, seeming to be brainstorming as well, “I pretend to inject my patients? I can formulate something harmless to give them. It shouldn’t be that difficult to do.”

I shake my head, having considered this. “No. For one, their gifts would surface. Then you’d be in trouble and we need you not to gain any attention from the Government Center. And secondly, that’s why I asked about the other doctors. If there’s other doctors doing this then if you stopped giving injections it would only create a small rebellion. If we’re going to do this then we need to think big.”

Parker slides his hands into his jacket pockets and pins his shoulders up by his ears. “I don’t know then.” He doesn’t look like himself anymore. In twenty-four hours he’s lost the easiness in his expression. Now he’s on alert. Tense. Strained.

“I’m not happy to ask you to do this, but you have to keep giving the injections,” I say, slowly. Carefully.

He blows out an exasperated breath. “I figured you were going to say that.”

I nod. “I need you to act normal when around Reverians.”

He rips his hands out of his jacket pockets. Throws them in the air. “How am I supposed to do that? I’ve just learned that I’ve been injecting a drug synthesized from stolen spinal fluid into innocent children. I’m hurting my own race. Em, do you recognize this isn’t a situation I’m able to cope with? We were supposed to leave and now you wa—”

I wave my hands, desperate to stop him from screaming. Quiet him before he attracts attention. In almost a whisper I say, “Parker, you’ve been giving injections for four years, right?”

“Yes,” he says. “It’s why my family and I were recruited to the Valley.”

“This rebellion we’re working on will take maybe six months to a year. No longer. It’s not going to make much of a difference to these kids if you keep injecting them a little longer and if you do what I ask then you won’t be doing it for long at all. If you do what I say then you’ll be out of a job soon.”

His eyes, which were looking off without seeing, dart to mine. Relief breaks across his face. That’s not the expression most would have about being unemployed. “Go on,” he says.

“Nona has constructed an extremely thorough plan,” I begin.

“That’s Nona,” he says, nodding his head with pride.

“I know, she’s a mastermind. During injections you two can relay information. It will actually be perfect.”

He nods, agreeing at once.

“What I need you to do, Parker, is to search the labs. You have full access if you want it, right?”

“Yes, they didn’t question me when I was in the Middling extraction area today,” he says, and then shudders, his mind probably flashing on the babies he watched having the withdrawals. I shiver too, thinking of the unnecessary cruelty.

I unzip my jacket and Parker jumps. What does he think, I’m about to pull out a gun? He’s really on edge. I hold up a steadying hand. “It’s all right. I’m only getting these.” I slip the drawings of the maps out of my jacket. “These are blueprints of the labs. Mostly accurate, but feel free to fill them in where they’re wrong. I have them labeled by department and floor.”

He squints down at the first one and then realizing he can’t see a thing looks back up at me.

“What I need you to do is to find out where all the Defect formula for injections is stored.”

“Cerevitium,” Parker interrupts.

“What?” I ask in confusion.

“That’s what the drug is that we give to Defects.”

“Rebels,” I correct.

He nods. “Yes, Rebels.”

“Cerevitium,” I say to myself. “Why didn’t I know that was the name of the drug until now?”

“We aren’t supposed to call it by name,” Parker says with an unsure shrug. “Injections is what they’re supposed to be called.”

“Right.” Another small but effective way to deflect attention from the brainwashing program.

“Okay,” I continue, “I need the locations and quantity of all cerevitium in the labs. There’s a supply in your office, of course. And then there will be a supply in the other doctors’ offices. I want counts on all of them. I want to know exactly how many vials there are in every single office. And then there has to be a back storage. There might be a few places where they keep cerevitium. And there will also be some located in the synthesizing department.” I take a step closer to Parker so I can read his expression more clearly. “Do you understand what I’m asking you to do?”

“Yes. You need me to note the locations and quantity of all of the cerevitium in the labs on these maps,” he says, nodding his head. “And I can do it. This might take some time though.”

“Well, we have the time, but the longer it takes you, the longer you’ll have to inject innocent children.”

“Fine, I’ll get it done. First, though, I want to know why you need all this information.”

I tuck my chin down low, flick my eyes up to Parker’s. “Because we’re going to destroy the cerevitium used to inject Defects. All of it.”

Chapter Fourteen

From the way his shoulders are slumped and head hanging between his legs, I know Rogue has suffered from another headache while I was gone. He’s seated by a nearly burned out campfire, his elbows on his knees, his black curls down in front of his face. At the sound of my approach he flips his head up, straightens, slides his hair back.

“Hey, babe,” he says, his voice raspy, tired. His eyes are outlined in red. But he somehow forces his mouth into a crooked smile. “Glad you’re back. I was worried—”

“You’ve had another headache, haven’t you?” My tone is convicting, like he’s done something wrong by having this headache.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t bad.”

They’re all bad. Excruciating pain, making the strongest person I’ve ever known cry out from the torture. I take the spot in front of him, sitting on my knees. “Why won’t you let me help you? Why are you choosing to suffer? I don’t understand.”

He scoots in closer to me, his long legs on either side. “Oh, no you don’t,” Rogue says. “You promised to just love me. No harassing me. This is my decision. I get how frustrating this is for you, that you don’t understand my reasons, but one day you will.” He slides his hands around my waist and tugs me forward, until I’m right up against him. “One day you’re gonna look at me and totally get this and praise me for being so damn brilliant.”

I laugh into his chest, releasing some of the stress in my heart.

“Don’t you laugh,” he says, with mock offense and a growl. “It’s true. You’re gonna be damn glad I planned things out like I did.”

And although he’s joking, his words give me pause. I push back and stare into his eyes, which I can barely catch the green of from the fire light behind me. “What does that mean, Rogue? Have you seen something in one of those premonitions you get after a headache?” The only benefit to the headaches is afterwards Rogue is gifted with several abilities. They’re always different and not always useful, but many times he’s seen flashes of the future, like when we broke into the labs.

He shakes his head, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and stares at me with an inspiring reverie. “Don’t you worry your beautiful head, Em. I’m simply asking for you to trust me. I’ve got an instinct on this and I know that the only thing that will help me is being with you, so give me that. No more arguing. No more running off. Let’s just enjoy each other. And on the side, let’s create a rebellion. What do you say?”

He’s smiling at me, but I sense his nervousness. Rogue knows I have every right to argue with him on this. Fears I might. His eyes shift between mine. The ache in my chest grows moment by moment as I take in every detail about him, his olive skin, angled jaw, and subtle smile.

“Rogue…” I say, lacking all the anger I wanted to inject into my voice and mostly sounding defeated.

“Yes, babe,” he says, batting his impossibly long eyelashes at me in a play of affection.

“Oh, stop it,” I say, slapping his arm. He catches my hand at lightning speed and redirects it to his heart. Presses it there.

Under the material of his shirt I feel his warmth, the pulsing of his heart. To feel him. To know how much he loves me. And then to also have to bear the weight of the pain he suffers. I don’t mean to but a small sob hiccups out of my chest. And then a single tear springs to my eye and slides down my cheek.

He yanks me ever so gently into him, pressing his lips to mine. “No more tears, Em,” he says in between each time our lips meet. One of his hands slides up the side of my throat, the other snakes all the way around my waist, pinning me to him. My own hands have already found his hair, his shoulders, his chest. Again and again I kiss him, and succumb to what he wants. It hurts not to be able to advocate for Rogue, but if I truly love him then I have to believe in his instinct. It’s carried him this far, into my arms. I smile against his mouth and kiss him once more before putting a few inches between us.

“Okay,” I say.

“Thank you, Em. Everything is gonna work out.”

I nod, wanting to believe him, making myself.

He smiles back at me. “And I fear you think I’m hiding something from you. I’m telling you everything that’s important enough for you to know. I would never keep something from you if you really needed to know it.”
And although he isn’t making reference to my own situation, guilt grips my heart and twists. I suck in a breath and sit back on my heels. “Rogue, I want to get away with you. Will you meet me somewhere tonight?”

He angles his head at me sideways, obviously a little disoriented by the out of the blue request. “Of course I will. Always.”

Wind dances through the pine trees overhead, making the needles rustle with gentle music. I lean in and pause two inches from Rogue. It feels incredibly perfect to be this close to him after the last few days. And by his small muffled laughter, I suspect he feels the same way. Finally, I angle my mouth next to his ear and whisper the location.

When I withdraw, he winks in confirmation. “Off to bed, then,” Rogue says and stands too fast, holding out a hand for me.

Chapter Fifteen

I close my eyes and within seconds I’m spiraling through the silver tunnel like a roller coaster. My consciousness makes a series of turns before I’m spit out to the exact location I intended. The waves, some six hundred feet down, beat against the rock. It takes me a bit to find the right spot to sit, but I finally decide on a flat stone. The sun is starting to tuck down on the horizon. I face out to the vastness of the Pacific. From my place perched high I feel like a goddess who was chosen to rule over our people. To know truths that have been hidden from them. To see things they can’t. But all I want for them is to know how they’re being controlled and restricted. Abused. I don’t want to rule alone. I want the Reverians to stand on Morro Rock along with me. Maybe not all at once, since there’s not room for all of us on this piece of land. But I want my people to dream travel freely, to see the world, as I have.

I feel Rogue’s presence before I see him. It’s an inviting one and my arms are around him before his body even registers in this dimension.

He smiles as my gentle pressure greets him immediately. “Well, I see there’s no hiding from you anymore,” he says.

“Nope, I’m tuned in to you.”

“That you are,” he says, sliding in close to me, his focus on the sunset, which is morphing into a brighter array of colors every second. “Good thinking about time traveling back to catch the sunset.”

“Thanks,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder.

“And not a bad location either. Hadn’t thought of this one.”

“Well, what’s the point in being a Dream Traveler if we can’t go to forbidden places,” I say, angling my chin up to his gaze and giving a defiant look.

“Right you are,” he says.

Morro Rock has been protected as a state preserve since the 1960s. Now no one can climb the structure, which sits just off Morro Bay in California. But as Dream Travelers we don’t have to worry about being caught. And we didn’t have to climb to get up to this primo place to view the sunset; all we had to do was close our eyes and use the talents given to us by the gods.

The sun sets like gentle music, classically receding and every now and again echoing with a beat of colors and emotions. The pinks and oranges reflect off the placid waters of the Pacific. I wonder if it’s like this often, or if it’s merely a gift the gods are giving so Rogue and I can have the perfect scenery in this moment. And then I’m reminded of why I chose this place. Settings, I’ve learned, are important to every interaction. They create the mood, soothe it when necessary, and inspire. This is the reason people care about interior design so much. Before, I thought it was bogus, but now I realize that there’s something to be said about it. That’s why I felt most comfortable in Rogue’s home, a place thoughtfully arranged with love and beauty. A place that was inspired by his mother’s study.

“Rogue?” I say.

He doesn’t look at me directly, just keeps staring at the sun setting, creating an array of colors over the horizon. “Yes.”

“I need to tell you something.”

At the mention of those six simple words his eyes dart to mine, worry in his stare. I wish I could tell him there isn’t anything to be concerned about. I wish I could put his fears to rest at once, but I can’t. His concern is well placed right now.

I swallow, flick my eyes at the dazzling sun, which like a show pony is trying to steal my attention. My eyes pin at the rock under my feet. “I didn’t tell you something before because I thought if I could learn more then I’d be able to tell you the whole story all at once. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out everything I wanted to know. And I need to tell you what I know regardless now, because the information is yours to deal with the way you see fit.”

“What is it, Em?” he says, not an ounce of anger or frustration in his voice, like someone might have who’s been kept in the dark. His tone is gentle, encouraging.

“Rogue…” I stop, gulp, and stare up at him. This is harder than I imagined. I grab his hand, not for him, but for me. “When we were in the labs, you’ll remember I had my father’s telepathy.”

He nods, a solemn foreboding in his eyes.

“Well, I learned many things about my father and your father from reading their thoughts, and I wish I could forget all of them, but I can’t.”

He grips my hand back, angles his head down so he’s looking into my eyes. “Unburden yourself to me, Em. I want you to.” In his voice and expression is the most perfect sincerity. I want to preserve it forever because there’s everything right about the way he is in this moment. Nothing wrong.

“Rogue, do you know how your mother died?” I ask, hoping, praying all my worrying has been for nothing. He’s Rogue. He buries secrets, pains. Maybe he already knows.

His eyes take on an acute pinch. He shakes his head. Then he tugs my hand into him. “You know, though, don’t you?”

I nod and on cue a tear falls from my eye. It feels weird to cry right now, when all pain should belong to Rogue, but I can’t help to feel the sensitivity of this moment.

“Shhh,” Rogue says, sliding in close and kissing the exact place where my tear landed. He wipes the rest of it away with his finger. “Tell me. I want to know.”

I nod and find my voice below the tattered tears. “Your father,” I say, and then lose my breath. I try again, pulling the exact thoughts from Vider’s memories to my mind. “Your mother discovered a certain truth about your father. She confronted him with it. She threatened him with it. And when she wouldn’t back down, he strangled her. Then he had her disposed of.”

And suddenly my tears own me and it’s wrong to cry right now, in this moment. All pain should belong to Rogue but I cry because I don’t want to be the one here telling the man I love that his father murdered his mother. Rogue doesn’t shed a tear or grimace from the news. He only claps a hand on my shoulder and pulls me into him, holding me with a new intensity. And like all times I’ve ever been close to Rogue, my aches fade away. He always makes my pain disappear somehow. Softens it until it doesn’t exist. We stay locked in each other’s embrace, his arms around me, and mine around him.

When the sun has set long ago and the seagulls have all gone to bed for the day, I slide away from Rogue’s chin hunched over me and stare up at him. I’m only able to make out parts of his features by the ambient light of the city in the distance and the ships in the waters. He’s giving me a thoughtfully tender expression. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say. “I wanted to know the whole story before I told you, but I failed to find it out. And this is your history, and so yours to know, not mine to keep.”

“You’ve known this since the labs, but you didn’t tell me?”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m in awe, and yes, a little mad,” he says, but smiles. “Em, you didn’t have to know all the details to tell me this.”

“But I didn’t want you to know that your father did that to your mother—”

“Murdered,” he interrupts, saying the word I was unwilling to.

I nod. “I didn’t want you to know your father murdered her without knowing why.”

“So you’ve been trying to find that out, have you?”

I nod, in love with the way he’s regarding me with unending patience right now. “I thought that if I could discover that then it would make it all easier to digest.”

“So what did you do? Research archives from that time period? Look at death records?”

“I broke into your father’s house,” I say a little sheepishly.

Abrupt laughter falls out of his mouth. He shakes his head. “Of course you did, because that’s the most outlandish thing I could think of. Should have thought of that first. Screw death records and archives.”

“Rogue, I was trying—”

He shakes his head, his chaotic loose curls flowing with the movement. “Don’t explain or apologize. This simply confirms that you, Em, are absolutely a lunatic.”

I halt. My breath halts. I seize to blink.

“And don’t even think about changing, because you’re absolutely the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” Rogue says, sliding the back of his hand down the side of my face. “I love you.”

I smile into his hand. “I wanted to figure this out for you.”

“But you didn’t learn anything?”

“Well, I found your mother’s old study, which was absolutely curious.”

Rogue nods, taking his eyes off me for the first time. He seems to recede inside himself slightly.

“It’s in the same condition I’m guessing it was when she was alive,” I say, talking more than I think I should.

He nods again. “Yes, I spent a lot of time there.” He flips his head up and looks at me. His stubble and aching eyes making him look suddenly older. “I used to go there to hide from my father, knowing that’s the only place he wouldn’t search to find me.”

Rogue hardly ever speaks to me like this, telling me about the things he did to survive his father. I seize onto his openness. “Why wouldn’t he go there?”

He looks at me sideways, like he didn’t hear me right. “The same reason that he never had the gall to move out her furniture or to change the room. He just kept it closed up.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she haunts it,” he says.

And like I’m back in the room right now, the chill of the space sweeps through me, taking over my being. Taking residence in my bones. Invading my blood with cold.

“Oh,” I say. “But you felt all right there?”

He nods. “I felt protected there. Maybe that’s why she stuck around. Didn’t you feel safe there?”

“Very,” I say, meaning it. “And your father? What happened to him when he entered?”

“Bad things,” Rogue says, his eyes lighting up a little. “Things moved. The space changed. I think deep down I always suspected that he did something to her. I didn’t want to face it, though, but it’s long overdue.”

“Your mother, she’s still there. Her ghost is in her office. I felt her.”

The movement of his Adam’s apple tells me this is more than he’s used to processing in front of other people. Finally he nods.

“Rogue, she knows why your father murdered her. Not only do you need to know that for closure, but we need to know what your father is hiding.”

He places both of his hands on my shoulders, almost like he’s using me as a support, although holding him up would take all I had. Still I’d try. “Sounds like we need to recruit someone who can talk to the dead,” he says, his voice too perfectly smooth, his smile too bright.

I lay my head on his chest and pull him into me. “We’ll get answers, Rogue. And then we’ll crush your father with them, and mine too.”

He squeezes me into him with a gentle pressure.

Chapter Sixteen

“You really think this is a good idea?” Rogue says, checking the alleyway for signs of life.

“No, but it’s the best plan we have.” I pull my head back out of the bars of the gate to my old home. The yard is empty. It’s late morning like before. Only Tutu is home. My mother left three minutes ago. I watched her go from my spot on the side of the house, her skinny, pale legs hurrying down the walkway. She was probably hustling off to her scripture study group. At these meetings the women sit around discussing the scripture, which is three hundred pages of bullshit. Middlings serve these upper-class Reverian women finger foods while they discuss the burdens of being the golden race.

As far as I can tell, the scripture is repetitive babble that seeks to convince two different races of their roles. It’s the doctrine our society was based on. In all the pages there’s nothing on wrongdoing of any sort. Nothing about rules or order or any parable to illustrate how we should live our life. It’s simply one long story about a set of gods who created different races for the purpose of achieving balance for themselves. These races are to serve each other and in turn the gods will protect us. Upset the balance and we’ll upset the gods. I want to laugh about it, but it’s difficult to do completely since it’s such a huge part of my upbringing. And too many times lately I wonder if the gods are punishing Rogue. Maybe by living on his own and not protecting Middlings, he has upset the balance. I shake my head at this idea and focus back on the house.

I turn and face Rogue directly. He doesn’t look exceptionally different after last night, but something has shifted in him. A new motivation has boiled to the surface. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.”

“Fat chance that’s going to happen,” he says.

“If someone comes by, hide,” I say. “But if there’s a problem then do your cheetah thing and get the hell out of here.”

“Another thing that’s not gonna happen.”

“Fine, I’ll see you in a few,” I say.

I’m through the gate and across the acre-long yard in less than a second, thanks to leeching Rogue’s speed. Traveling through the Valley with Rogue has been much easier than when I did it alone. Although I had worried about draining him too much, he insisted that I leech him so that we could race through the Valley using his superhuman speed. The last time I leeched him, though, it had immediate effects, draining him, making him exhausted. But he’s right that this was the smartest strategy.

This time I don’t worry about scaling the drainage pipe. I enter through the back door. Giorgio, our family chef, is out to market. I’m certain the house is empty of everyone but Tutu and her spirits, but that won’t last for long. Soon Giorgio will be back with his arms full of groceries and his mouth ready to ask questions I can’t answer.

I pop into the hallway and freeze. Wait. Nothing happens. I eye the back door behind me, my escape. I’m leery to move too far into the house and be trapped if someone returns at an off hour. The floorboard creaks when I take another step forward. I cough, purposely. It echoes through the mostly empty house. And then a misty white figure floats through the wall to the side of me. Ronald stands looking at me, his gaze sturdy, an easy grin on his face.

“Finally,” I say with relief. “There you are.”

“Oh, is this a game we’re playing? Like hide-and-go-seek?” He sounds amused, his voice rich and smooth.

“No, but I know how you like to patrol. I was hoping you’d find me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint,” he says with a bow. “What can I do for you, Morie?”

I bristle at the use of that name, at the reminder of what it means. “Will you please relay a message to Tutu?” I flick my eyes up to the ceiling. Tutu is on the other side of the eastern wing and therefore too far away for me to get to safely.

“Certainty, my dear.”

The point that I’m standing here giving orders to a man who’s been dead for seventy-five years is truly bizarre. “Tell her that I really need her to meet me at Vider’s house in fifteen minutes.”

Ronald arches a curious eyebrow at my order. Inclines his head.

“It’s super, super important,” I continue. “I normally wouldn’t ever ask her to do anything so crazy, but I really, really need her to do it!”

Ronald smiles, his mustache twitching a little as he does. “Two reallys, right?”

I nod. “And two supers,” I say with a wink.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make her do it. I’ll threaten to sing nonstop. She detests my singing.”

“Thank you,” I say, a relieved smile breaking over my face as I dash for the exit while Ronald slides through the solid wall.

***

The sun is high in the Oregon sky, which is such a deep blue. It contrasts with the fiery red and orange trees, reminding me autumn is quickly making changes across the Valley. As I suspected, Tutu scuttles around the back gate to Vider’s house right on time. Her gray hair has taken on a bluish tint in the October sunlight. Hopefully no one will notice her gone.

“Don’t you worry, Em,” she says, having read the apprehension on my face. “If anyone sees I’m gone, I’ll tell them I went on a walkabout because I sense I’m about to die. No one’s going to argue with a woman about to pass.”

I smile at her. She’s using her raccoon-headed cane more than usual, which is to say she’s actually using it. Usually she half drags it behind her, only propping herself on it when she stands. “It’s good to see you again, Tutu.”

She nods in agreement. “You know who it’s good to see is that young man behind you.” She whistles through her teeth. “For the love of the sweet gods, Rogue Vider, you are something else, aren’t you?”

He steps out from behind me and takes her hand and wrings it, and I swear I spy a tiny blush on her pale, almost transparent skin. “Boy, you look strong enough to lift a car off the ground and handsome enough to steal the heart of the gods.”

“Ms. Fuller, I see you haven’t changed a bit,” Rogue says, not an ounce of nervousness in his voice as he holds a ninety-nine-year-old woman’s hand in his.

“Actually I’m even more of a charmer than I used to be. What can I say, I’m getting better with age.”

“That’s for sure,” Rogue agrees.

Tutu rounds on me. “All right, so Ronald says you were adamant about my meeting you. What are you up to, child?”

“Well,” I begin, drawing the word out, trying and failing to keep the nervousness out of my voice. Finally I rush through my words in one enormous breath. “After we trespass into Vider’s house, I was hoping you’d use your gift to speak to Violet, whose spirit occupies one of the rooms.”

She purses her wrinkled lips and regards me with an unreadable expression. “Of all the reasons to finally leave the house…” She clicks her tongue three times and then reveals a perfect smile. All-white porcelain teeth wink back at me. “This is the best one I could think of,” Tutu says, making for the door immediately. “Times a-wasting you, young-ins, let’s get to it.”

Rogue takes the position behind me, his tension palpable as we near the house. I reach out, grab his hand, squeeze. His eyes lighten a bit, but it’s an act. At the threshold he blows out a long breath. I tug him forward, afraid he’s about to change his mind. Walking into this house must feel like stepping back through time for him. Most probably have nostalgia when they return to their childhood homes. I know I did. But from the slack expression on Rogue’s face and his darting eyes, I don’t sense he’s harboring any sentimental emotions. And what would it feel like to enter the house where your mother was murdered? Still haunts. This whole mission is quite demented. I shiver out a sudden chill.

Probably driven by curiosity, Tutu bustles through the living room and down the hallway.

“How do you know where you’re going?” I ask, catching up to my tutu.

“Dear Em, I can sense her. She’s a powerful spirit. She’s carrying a surge of energy to stay anchored to her current location.”

Tutu has her hand on the knob to Violet’s office when I turn back to Rogue. “Are you sure you want to go in there? You don’t have to. I could stay here with you, send Tutu to speak to her,” I say.

He shakes his head roughly. “I’d rather be in that room than out here. I’ve always been safe in there.”

I nod. Turn to the door, which is already half open. My tutu has disappeared into the dark, dusty study. Rogue reaches for my hand, a gesture to keep him comforted. I relish the idea I can do that for him.

The door creaks softly when I push it open. Tutu stands, leaning on her cane, looking at the center of the room, an amused look on her perfectly wrinkled face. “I forgot how beautiful Violet was,” Tutu turns to me and says. “Now you can see where Rogue gets his good looks from.”

I step up beside her, my eyes adjusting to the darkened room. The dust tickles my nose, scratches my eyes. “I can’t see her, Tutu,” I say, squinting into the darkness.

“Oh, well, child, cipher me or leech me or whatever it is that you do,” she says, turning around and giving me a look of tired offense.

Rogue has closed the door and taken the space on the other side of me, his warm hand in mine at once. He’s searching the space, his eyes hungry to explore a room he hasn’t seen in many years, but seems so fond to look at.

I turn back to Tutu. “No, I could drain you. Hurt you. If I leech you too much you might pass out, or worse.”

“Because I’m old?” she says, a scowl in her voice. “If I have to relay everything this lovely woman has to say,” she says, waving at the empty open area in front of us, “then I’m going to be drained. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take a seat on that couch over there and you’re going to leech me and learn everything you need to. And if you don’t, then you’ll leave here without information. Is that clear, my dear?”

I roll my reluctant eyes at her. “Fine. Go sit, but don’t be mad at me when you pass out and Rogue has to carry you home.”

She winks at me before she trudges to the sofa. “Oh, I won’t be mad at all if that young man carries me home. Not at all.”

I laugh. Turn to Rogue. “I’ll try and relay everything I learn, but give me a second.”

He shakes his head. “No, we don’t have time for that. Talk to her, learn the truth, and fill me in later. I’m here for you.” And like he’s trying to lend me strength in this tender moment he takes the place behind me and claps a hand on either one of my shoulders. “Thanks for doing this, babe.”

“Always,” I say, looking up at him.

“Oh, for the love of the gods, can we get on with this,” Tutu says from her place snug on the sofa. “I’m dying to find out what you want to know. Let’s get this show started.”

Chapter Seventeen

With a strange sensation in my chest I gaze out at the center of the room. Because Rogue made me practice so many times on him, I’m able to purposely leech my tutu’s gift. I have so much more control over it now, except under heightened times and then I leech without meaning to. Tutu’s gift flows into me like air into my lungs. Filling me with strength and power.

In the center of the room, squarely in front of me, a figure appears at once. Violet is transparent like Ronald, but also has a shimmer around her that I didn’t expect, a radiance. I gasp.

“Told you she was beautiful,” Tutu says, with a laugh in her voice.

Violet Vider wears an emerald green silk dress which flows elegantly over her curves and sweeps behind her. She’s regarding me with a thoughtful curiosity, giving me the opportunity to take her in before she speaks, as I sense she’s longing to do. Her black hair is parted down the middle, slicked back into a long braid which is wrapped around the crown of her head. Her eyes are more Rogue’s than I would have ever imagined. They’re large and almond-shaped like his, but brown. He has her high cheekbones and her alluring smile. I’m instantly endeared to the quiet soul who floats before me. Behind her I catch a smirk on Tutu’s face.

“Why do the spirits look like this?” I say to my tutu. “Is that how they remember themselves?”

“This is what she looked like before she died. On the night of the summer solstice ball, over twelve years ago. She was a gorgeous date, don’t you think?” Tutu says.

Violet flips around and snaps, “I can hear you, you know?” Her voice has a slight accent to it. Spanish, I think.

“Oh, believe me I know,” Tutu says, a smile on her face.

I turn to Rogue who has only witnessed what happened in the physical state. “I’ll tell you later.”

He squeezes my shoulders.
“Violet,” I say and step away from his hands, closer to his mother. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I know the truth. I know that…he murdered you.”

Tutu sits forward on the couch, her eyes suddenly wide.

Violet attempts a smile twice and then shakes her head. “You may be the first to know I was murdered, except those who he had dispose of me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Also, I know you died because you knew something.”

She confirms this with a nod and then steps forward, inspecting me with a sensitive curiosity. “I saw you here a few days ago, Em.” She says my name like it was last week that I played in this house. I remember Violet, but also not really. Only a murky shadow of her. “You were searching for clues then, weren’t you?”

I nod. “Yes. I’m trying to stop Vider.”

She unleashes a smile that if the world could see they’d feel as graced as I do now. She’s simply stunning. So captivating for her beauty, but more so for her innate purity.

“And this time you brought him,” she says, indicating Rogue, who’s standing at attention behind me. “My greatest treasure. I should have known you were here for him. I should have realized you were still connected.” She stares at her son with such heartbreaking torture. It looks like she wants to reach out to him, but is restraining herself. Then she shakes her head and seems to recover. “I’ll tell you what you want to know and then maybe you’ll tell my dear prince what he should have always known.”

Tears jerk in my throat. “Yes,” I say through the strain in my voice.

“I’d think your first concern is to know why Victor murdered me, is that right?” Violet asks.

I nod. “Yes, that’s the key.”

“I’ve confined myself to this room so I’m unaware of the state of Austin Valley. Has Victor been successful with his plans? I witnessed great pain in Rogue years ago, but I don’t know what caused that pain. Victor has always been harsh on him. I always worried for my son, but I worried more when he disappeared.”

“Rogue discovered some of Vider’s plans and fled,” I say.

Relief washes over her soft features. “My prince looks strong and healthy. My years of confinement here are worth it to know this and to finally see him.”

“To answer your question, yes, Vider has been mostly successful. He’s created a population of Defects,” I say, trying to shake off the strangeness this bizarre conversation is leaving in me.

Her eyes narrow bitterly. “And Rogue, was he…?”

“He was the first,” I inform her.

“Damn Victor. I should have been here to stop this,” she says, throwing her hands on her hips and pacing, her silk evening dress swaying behind her.

“But Rogue escaped,” I remind her.

She pauses. Nods. Lightens slightly. “I’m grateful for that, but what he did to my son is unforgivable. What he’s done is beyond redemption,” she says, venom in her words.

“I agree. That’s why I’m here. We’re trying to find out as much as we can so we can stop him,” I say.

“Good,” she says, stomping her jewel-encrusted slipper on the Oriental rug, but it doesn’t make a sound or unleash any dust. “You must stop him. You must make him suffer. He deserves to die for his cruelty, a slow and treacherous death.”

“We’ll do our best to avenge you and to stop him,” I say to Violet.

She shakes off the heartbreak that’s oozing to the surface, replacing it with a sturdy resilience. “You’re nothing like your mother, are you?”

“They have the same nose. Nothing else,” Tutu says behind us.

Violet turns and acknowledges this. “Nor her father, am I right?” she says to Tutu.

“Oh, she’s definitely as ornery as Damien,” Tutu offers again. “Her motives are better placed though.”

“Can we focus here?” I say, mostly to Tutu.

“Of course,” Violet says, her tone soft. Patient. “Victor murdered me the night of the summer solstice because I had discovered what he’d been planning, what he was going to do. And I had been stupid enough to confront him with it. I couldn’t understand how the man I loved had been such a monster all along. And now, I feel betrayed by my emotions.”

“Violet, he had brainwashed you. Manipulated you into loving him. He’s captivating like that,” I say.

She nods. “I know this now, but then I didn’t. I had just discovered that the man I loved was responsible for despicable things.” Violet pauses, and her mouth pulls to the side. It’s a mannerism I’ve seen Rogue do when he’s stressed and reluctant.

“Please tell me why Vider murdered you,” I say, hating the question I’m forced to ask a tortured soul.

She continues pacing again. “It all started when I discovered that Victor had authorized the kidnappings of dozens of Middling and Dream Traveler children from all over the country.”

“What?” I say, stepping back and feeling Rogue’s hand on my back at once, steadying me.

Violet nods, her eyes flicking up to her son’s face first and then back to mine. “I’m afraid it’s true. I know it for certain.”

“But how? How did he kidnap these children?” I ask, my rational brain needing these logistical details first. Or maybe it’s because I sense I can’t handle the reasons yet. I flick my eyes at Rogue. His face is tight with confusion. To only hear one side of this conversation must be tremendously infuriating.

“Middlings,” she says flatly.

“What?”

“He ordered Middlings to abduct children, usually from shelters and government agencies,” Violet says.

My stomach rumbles with unease. This is not what I expected to learn, but it also isn’t so outlandish to believe. Not from Vider. I guess I expected that the information from Violet would be about things Vider did to his own people, not that he kidnapped innocent children outside our borders.

“How did he get the help of those Middlings?” I ask. I think back to our fight in the lab. Vider had Middlings come after us there. And they were strange then, like zombies, doing whatever he asked. Even Dean, who I’d worked alongside for years seemed indifferent to me.

“Victor’s brainwashing and mind control is strong on Middlings. It works usually without fail but if it does fail then he employs subliminal communication using his words,” Violet says.

“Subliminal communication?” I say, mostly to myself.

“Yes, but he’s also had another control mechanism, which I never figured out,” Violet says, sounding regretful. “As Dream Travelers, we’re able to break out of his control if we learn the truth and want an advantage he can’t offer, but this same equation doesn’t work on Middlings. I’m not sure why. When I was investigating for this information I discovered that Middlings were reluctant to be persuaded against Victor. No matter what I said, they believed in him. Needed to believe in him. This was in contrast to the few trusted Dream Travelers who I was able to pressure against Victor so I could gain help and information.”

I nod at her, having encountered this resistance. “So these children he kidnapped, what did he do to them?” The question feels all wrong, too casual to ask, but that’s why we’re here.

“He tested on them. Experimented,” she says, her eyes not meeting mine. Maybe unable to.

“What?” I say, gulping for air. My chest suddenly tight. Heart hammering wildly.

She nods, a bitterness to the movement. “The first thing I learned was Victor planned to subdue rebellious personalities by classifying them as Defects. Then he would do something to suppress their gift, starting before its onset. Does this all sound correct?”

“Yes,” I say with a solemn nod.

“Well, I watched him for a long time after I learned this, trying to figure out what he was going to do next and also the best way to stop him. I loved Victor then and believed the stress of the presidency was too much. I believed he’d gone delusional. And I convinced myself I could persuade him to stop if I just knew what was going on completely. But then I started to really get a glimpse into his plans and I discovered he wasn’t stressed by the job or delusional. He was a psychopath who had strategized to great detail. Victor had plans to create a drug that would suppress gifts. By the time I learned this it was all too late.” Remorse weighed heavy on her accented words.

“So he experimented on children to figure out how to create the drug, didn’t he?” I say, piecing this together. Of course there had been experimenting that went into creating cerevitium. I should have guessed.

“Yes.”

“But why did he kidnap children outside our borders? Why not use Reverians?” I ask.

“In Victor’s well-formed plan he knew he couldn’t do the experimentation on his own people,” Violet says, her voice cold. “Not without drawing attention, so he had the children taken.”

Taken. The word and the implications and the idea that my father knew is too much. Bile coats my throat and nothing I do washes it away. “Other people’s children,” I say and wrap my arms around my midsection. “He took other people’s children?”

“I tried to find them,” Violet says in a defensive tone. “I scoured this city when I could. Questioned. Threatened everyone I knew would keep my investigating a secret, but it never mattered. The lab techs who told me what I’m telling you now wouldn’t share the locations of where the children were being held. That’s when I decided to confront Victor. I had to stop this. It had gone too far.”

“But you said it was too late. What happened to those children?” I ask and immediately from the look on Violet’s face I regret the question.

“They all died,” she says in a cold whisper. “Every single one of the children Vider kidnapped died. Dozens and dozens of children were murdered.”

Behind her Tutu’s face turns dark, a menacing anger written in her always pleasant eyes.

Chapter Eighteen

“What?!” I say as Violet’s last words sink in. Dozens and dozens of children were murdered. The questions surrounding this are now streaming through my head too rapidly.

“Victor took Middling and Dream Traveler children so he could create the drug from one group and test it on the other group,” Violet says after taking a series of steadying breaths. “At first it wasn’t successful, many children were lost in testing, or that’s what my sources told me anyway.”

I gulp at her words. At this reality. “He sacrificed children?” And she doesn’t have to nod for me to believe it. Vider will stop at nothing to gain control. He murdered his wife, brainwashed his people, stripped gifts away from children, and now he’s having them converted to Middlings by severing their dream traveling abilities. Of course he’d have no problem kidnapping children. But to sacrifice them? This brings a new degree of chill to my association with this vile man.

Violet’s aura dims a bit, reflecting her darkened mood. She nods. “Yes, children. He sacrificed them. It was hard for me to believe he had done what he had. Harder was the cold indifference he treated them with. He used them. Felt zero sympathy for their lives or the families he’d taken them from. But he only ever had to give the order. He’s the puppeteer. He’s always made himself so removed from the deceit he commanded. It makes it worse that he is a cruel and cowardly leader,” she says with a disgusted sigh.

“The children. How many?” I ask, afraid to learn the real answer and also compelled to know all the truth.

Violet shrugs, calloused now by her own history. “Dozens. Probably fifty. It’s hard for me to know. Maybe more. Maybe way more. As Victor failed with test subjects, he had more kidnapped, until he realized he needed Middling babies and he took those.”

“NO!” I say, my voice trembling.

“Yes, Em. Babies. He used them. Tested on them. And I’m certain he felt no remorse for it,” she says, shaking her head. “And so many babies didn’t even survive testing. So many,” she says, her voice cracking. “And then suddenly, his scientists figured out the right formula and I found out too late that I had waited too long. The night I confronted Victor, the night I made threats, was the same night he had completed the experiment and had gotten rid of all of the test subjects.”

“Gotten rid of?” I say, sure I’ve heard her wrong. I want to believe I’ve misunderstood all of this.

“They were euthanized,” Violet says with a burning stare.

I gulp out a sob. “What?! How could he…”

She shakes her head. “Too many years that question has run through my mind. He’s pure evil is all I can guess.”

“I don’t understand though,” I say, shaking my head, denial tunneling into my thoughts, trying to blanket them. “He shut down the experiments because he found the right formula, right?”

She nods.

“But there were flaws in the procedure and the formula,” I say urgently, thinking of the Middling babies they withdrew spinal fluid from too early and didn’t survive. Dean’s baby was one of them. Twelve babies died when they first began synthesizing cerevitium. The injections first given to Rogue.

Her expression is one of quiet composure. “I’m not sure of much after my death. I never even knew if it worked or if he was ruling this continent by now. I sensed he was still here, though.”

Vider must have thought at the time that they had the process right, but then later realized the babies they synthesized the injections from needed to be older. It was an oversight in the experiments.

Revulsion fills my being, coating all my organs in a disgust so pure I want to crawl outside myself. Somehow I force out words. “He euthanized…” I stop, unable to say the rest, the specifics.

“Yes,” Violet says, her tone gentle now. “It’s the worst possible thing a person can do. And the fact that my husband could make the orders without a scratch on his conscience disgusts me even now. He really believed he was justified. He believed he was creating the perfect society.”

“He believes it even more now,” I say. “And he has a great deal more power than he used to.”

“He was powerful then too,” she says, her eyes distant. “I was foolish. I threatened to expose him the night I died. I said I was going to take Rogue and run. I thought he loved us enough to stop and change. In my naïve heart I hoped he’d pay penance to the gods. I was done and I told him that.” She laughs, one that’s cold and lacking any humor. “I thought I’d stroll out of my office and take my son away. I never made it to the door,” she says in a tortured whisper. “And my greatest regret is that I was so naïve and that I left Rogue alone to deal with that monster.”

I look at Tutu, whose usually cheerful face is slack and absent of any joy. She swallows, raises her chin to me, and so I follow suit.

“You couldn’t have known that he was going to murder you,” I say.

“I’d recently learned he sanctioned genocide to gain power, Em,” she says in an angry hush, totally not wanting or accepting my sympathy. “Of course I should have known. I should have taken Rogue and run away, but I wanted to stop Victor and to expose him.”

“You’re right,” I say, not giving her any empathy this time. “There’s no point in dwelling on these mistakes though. And with what we’ve been working on and what you’ve told us we stand a chance of finally stopping him. We can expose him as you always wished.”

“But it won’t be easy,” she warns. “Not if his power has grown.”

“I know. His power is elaborately built now, but we are learning his tricks.”

She nods, looking impressed. “I think you might stand a chance then. And if you succeed a great burden will be relieved from my heart.” And her eyes finally fall on Rogue, stay pinned on him.

“You had a message for him you wanted me to relay.”

“Oh, I have so many, but I want to leave him with only one,” she says, her accent flaring with her emotions. She appears so young in her preserved state as she nears her son, who is unaware of this all. And he may feel the chill she carries with her, but if he does, he doesn’t shy away from it as she lays her hand against his jaw, marveling at his greatness.

“My prince,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I tried to protect you. I knew what he was planning and I tried to stop it, but in the end I failed. And I left you to bear the weight of his abuse alone. I’m sorry.” Looking at Violet, I realize instantly why she haunts. Tutu once told me every spirit has a reason for staying in this realm, when passing is always an option to them. Rogue’s mother is punishing herself. “I left you, although I intended to stay and protect you. I’m so so so sorry. Forgive my stupidity. It may have gotten me killed but it harmed you the most. And even still, I’ve been here every day, my prince, watching over you, bearing your pain with you, and then waiting for you to return.”

Tears I don’t have control over race away from my eyes, gravity pulling them to the ground. Rogue rushes at me, cups my face in his hands. “What is it? What did she say?”

I stare at the ghost hovering a few feet away. His mother’s ghost. “She loved you so much. Protected you until she couldn’t.”

He backs up, his eyes watering. “I know. I’ve never blamed her. She didn’t know he was a monster. How could she? He hid it so well.”

“She’s sorry she left you,” I say, my eyes on Violet.

He turns around, his eyes unsure as he studies the room.

“She’s right there,” I point to where Violet hovers a few feet away. Rogue centers on that spot.

“Mother,” he begins in a voice I don’t recognize. “Don’t blame yourself. I never have. Or will. I love you.”

And just when I think Rogue will say more to the ghost of his mother, he turns his attention on me. There’s a fragile elegance on his face. He’s trying to contain a buried emotion. It’s tearing at him from the inside. Trying to claw its way out.

“Did you learn everything? We shouldn’t stay much longer,” he says in a croaky rush.

I nod, but hold up my hand to pause him. I step forward closer to Violet, who hovers at Rogue’s back. Her eyes are on him, a quiet regret in them. “You hear that?” I say to her. “You don’t have to torture yourself by existing in this state of perpetual heartache any longer. You protected Rogue how you could by staying here, but now you should leave. Free yourself. And maybe by doing that you’ll free Rogue. If he didn’t have to know you were imprisoning yourself here, maybe he would be freer too. You’ve done your job. Given us more tonight than we could have ever found on our own. And more than that you’ve protected Rogue, but he can do that now, as you can see.”

She nods at me, an elegant picture of poise and grace. “You, darling Em, are worth every bit of my son’s affections. You’ve always been the center of his universe and now I see why. Take care of each other. And maybe one day we’ll meet again, but I hope for you, not anytime soon.” Her aura pulses bright, a dazzling array of colors. And, pixel by pixel, she fades, like a figure of dust being swept away in a windstorm. “Tell him that he was my greatest joy, my greatest love.” And then she’s gone.

“I will,” I whisper to the darkness.

Tutu’s hand is the one that surprises me; it claps down on my wrist. I hadn’t realized she moved from the sofa. Worried for her strength I turn to her, but her eyes aren’t tired. They’re full of astonishment. Wide. Speculative. “I’ve never seen a spirit pass over. It’s simply marvelous.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I bite my quivering lip.

“She’s gone?” Rogue says, sounding disappointed.

I’m about to say something when Tutu cuts me off. “Oh no, child, don’t be sad. Be joyous. Be happy. Your mother isn’t gone. She’s free. And she’s more with you now than ever before.”

Chapter Nineteen

We try to escort Tutu back but she is insistent that she’s fine, so I give up the cause. Then I turn my attention to Rogue. He needs the full story. I figure I know how to kill two birds with one stone: get a safe place to talk and also a few more answers. I tug him toward the center of town, whispering in his ear where we’re going. He gives me a startled look, but agrees nonetheless. It will be risky to move through the town during mid-afternoon, but we don’t have any choice. If we can race to a safe place fast then we’ll be all right.

Leeching Rogue’s gift of speed, I dart through the town beside him. Multiple times I catch a stranger’s curious gaze in my direction. I’m like a gnat in the sky, there and also not there. Gone before they can fully register my presence. Borrowing Rogue’s speed I’m too fast for the human eye to fully catch.

We arrive at the apartment in less than five minutes, which is twenty minutes shorter than it would have taken me. I knock. Wait. When no one answers. I jiggle the door handle and to my relief find it unlocked. Even as an outsider, Ren has the “unlocked” preference. That might change after today.

Twisting the handle, I push the door open to find a darkened apartment. The thick shades are drawn shut. He’s gone. Off working for Vider. I pull Rogue in after me, turning on the only light in Ren’s apartment that I’m aware of. We both squint from the brightness, but soon recover. And then I settle Rogue on the ground in front of me to tell him everything I’ve recently learned. His earnest face looks ready to learn the knowledge, but I worry about the burden this will take on him.

***

Rogue’s expression hardly shifts while I explain what his mother told me. If he’s surprised by the new level of low we learned his father is capable of then he doesn’t show it.

“And these children he took, it was over twelve years ago?” Rogue asks.

“Yes.”

“And they’re all dead now?”

“That’s what your mother said. He got rid of them when he didn’t have a use for them any longer.”

“He murdered them,” Rogue says.

I nod.

“I wonder if he only experimented on them to find the serum or if he had other uses for them.”

I scratch my head, not even having considered this. “Your mother didn’t say.”

“And she may not have known,” Rogue says, picking at the beige carpet. “It’s only that I know my father, maybe better than my mother did, since she was blind to him for so long. He isn’t wasteful. He uses everything and everyone to the fullest extent and only gets rid of them when they’re useless.”

I’m suddenly haunted by the memory of Vider’s piercing eyes when I saw him in the labs. The way he leered at me and made threats of the things he would do to me before I was converted sends new shivers over my skin. “We do know that he’s responsible for the abduction of dozens of children and their deaths. We know how long he’s been planning this and how low he’ll go to have the absolute power he desires,” I say and again another shiver runs through me as I think about all the new faces I spied during the race over here. Vider has already expanded the borders of Austin Valley and recruited more Middlings and Dream Travelers. Who knows how far his reach could extend? How many people he could control and oppress?

“I’m not sure what good knowing this history does for us,” Rogue says, a slight look of defeat on his face.

“Well, if we can prove it then we can turn people against him. That’s what your mother was going to do. Expose the truth.”

“We’d have to break through a lot of brainwashing, and something tells me it won’t be as easy with others as it was with Parker.”

“No, it won’t be, because Parker is directly involved. Most Reverians serve in more common ways, have no tie of guilt to what’s going on like Parker does,” I say. “But your mother said something that I think we can look into leveraging. She said that Vider uses certain mind controls on Middlings, like subliminal communication. If we can figure out how to break that then we might have a hope of getting through to them, but we’ll have to discover evidence to what he’s done.”

Rogue nods. Looks at me and then around at the empty apartment, which he keeps regarding with a quiet nervousness. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my dear old uncle seems to be an expert on these matters.”

Chapter Twenty
Rogue explodes into a standing position at the slightest rattle of the door handle. It takes me several seconds longer to join him. We both stand, facing out at the hallway, waiting for the owner of this apartment to greet us. Ren’s steps are slow on the plush carpet, tentative. He must know we’re here because the light is on.

Like a cat—curious but also hesitant—Ren takes another step until he’s looking directly at us. Over his arm is draped a trench coat and on his face is an undeniably contemptuous grimace.

“What in bloody hell are you doing in my flat?” he says, his voice low, strangely calm.

“I need your help,” I say, stepping in front of Rogue, who I sense is at the ready. Ready to defend. Ready to run.

“You need a freaking clue. You need boundaries,” Ren says, tossing his coat on the counter bar which divides the living room from the kitchen.

“She doesn’t know what those are,” Rogue says, daring to enter the conversation.

“And who in the hell are you? Did you freaking bring Tarzan with you?” he says, sizing up Rogue’s jeans and boots, looking at him like he’s a Martian.

“Who’s Tarzan?” Rogue asks, sounding strangely amused.

“Doesn’t anyone in this valley watch the telly?”

“What’s a telly?” Rogue asks, and now I know from the sound of his voice he’s smiling.

Ren unbuttons his dark green suit jacket and slips it off before flinging it with the coat. He looks tired, and also a little unsure how he’s going to deal with me. Finally he spins around and runs his hands through his spiky red hair. “All right, come on with it. I’ll entertain your silly questions.”

“Really?” I say, relief breaking across my face. “I thought you’d at least attempt to kick us out.”

“Oh, we’ve been through this, luv. I tell you to leave. You threaten to fry me with electricity. The whole exchange is quite tedious,” Ren says with a yawn. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

I do believe I’m slowly breaking Ren down. He almost looks a tiny smidge happy to see me as he eyes me and then Rogue.

“But first things first, you have to tell me what that is,” he says, pointing at Rogue.

I turn and look at Rogue, who as I expected bristles from Ren’s insolent manner. He doesn’t look offended but rather intrigued by his brazen nature. “Don’t worry, Ren seems to insult most people equally. He doesn’t have any extra disdain aimed at you.”

“That is inherently false, Emmy,” Ren says, pinning his hands on his hips. “There’s quite a long list of people who I treat with way more contempt. But you’re correct everyone starts off on equal, despicable ground with me. I’m nothing if not fair.”

“He’s your uncle?” Rogue says, looking between Ren and me. We don’t hold much resemblance, but I do take after my father.

“And who are you?” Ren says, slowly, like Rogue doesn’t speak English.

“This is Rogue. He’s—”

“Well, well, well, do you have a new talent, Em? Can you resurrect the dead?” Ren says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking ten percent more intrigued than before. “I have heard stories of the poor President’s dead son. Tragic story, although there’s a dozen versions depending on who you ask.”

“You’ve been asking about Rogue?” I say, not expecting this new direction in the conversation.

“Oh, I’ve been asking about various things. Doing a bit of investigating of my own,” Ren says, giving me a smug look. “You’re not the only one who wants to put a systematic end to all this bollocks.”

“Well, as you can see, Rogue isn’t dead. Simply another series of lies the President is responsible for,” I say.

Ren strokes his red goatee. “Rogue’s not dead. Hmmmm…This is highly interesting. This place never ceases to surprise with its conspiracies, does it?” He strides to the plaid armchair and takes a seat, then looks out at us with mild surprise. “Don’t just stand around and stare at me, have a seat. Let’s hear why you’ve broken into my flat and interrupted my nightly schedule.”

There’s still no other furniture in the place. I stay standing. “You’re familiar with subliminal communication, right?”

“If by familiar you mean I pretty much wrote the book on it, then sure,” Ren says, eyeing his nails.

“Are you aware that my father uses it on Middlings?” Rogue asks.

Ren regards him for a second then flicks his eyes back on his nails. “He also uses hypnosis to implant ideas in their minds, as well as the minds of Dream Travelers. You’ll find, cowboy, there’s isn’t much I don’t know.”

“You didn’t know I was alive,” Rogue says.

“Didn’t really care,” Ren fires back.

“But you just got finished saying that me not being dead was highly interesting.”

“What is he, a freaking court stenographer?” Ren says to me, waving his hand at Rogue.

“I’m a Libra actually,” Rogue says, enjoying this exchange too much.

I shake my head at the both of them. “Can you tell us how subliminal communication and hypnosis works?”

“Sure thing,” Ren says, with a wicked grin on his face. “And then I’ll go ahead and tell you where the fountain of youth is.”

“So, it’s not something you can easily explain, got it,” I say. “Can you tell us how to break the messages or hypnosis?”

“You have a knack for asking extremely impossible questions, followed by trivial ones,” Ren says. “What’s the secret of life? What’s one plus one?” he squeals, doing an awful impression of me.

I turn and look at Rogue, who’s actually smirking at Ren. “See, I told you, he’s super delightful.”

“I am not,” Ren says, his voice dripping with offense. “Don’t you go off spreading rumors, Em. If people think that then they’ll try and strike up conversations with me.” He shivers with sudden disgust. “You know how revolting that would be?”

“Fine, I’d rather keep your charm all to myself anyway. Now we’ll get out of your hair as soon as you tell us how to stop what Vider’s doing with subliminal communication and hypnosis,” I say, regarding Ren with my most confident look.

“Easy-peasy, as I said before. You have to stop the communications. If my assessment of the President is correct, which it undoubtedly is, then he uses multiple ways to control Reverians. One is mind control, which his type is actually fairly weak, that’s why I suspect he employs so many other strategies. He also uses another weak form of subliminal communication when in person. He keeps his audience’s conscious minds busy while implanting messages into their subconscious minds.”

“How does he do that?” Rogue asks.

Ren gives him an obnoxious look. “If you’d let me finish…”

“My deepest apologies,” Rogue says with a slight bow.

Ren shakes his head. “Your father has mastered the art of hypnotic movements. The way he acts in front of people, his small gestures, usually minute ones, have a captivating effect on people. This works best when he’s one-on-one and I suspect it doesn’t work at all on Defects, which is another reason you all were elected for sterilization.”

“Well, that means we’d have to stop Vider from interacting and we might as well take him out at that point,” I say, defeat taking residence in my chest.

“Oh, don’t sound so sad, little lamb. Like I said, he’s not a master at it, like me,” Ren says, clapping his hand to his chest. “The President uses a lot of different subliminal communications to control people’s thoughts, especially Middlings. I’m thinking it will be a full-time job for you to discover all the ways he’s figured out how to infiltrate thoughts. The thing about subliminal messages is they’re subtle, hence how they become so effective, especially over time. But if you erase the messages then people might have a chance to form their own opinions of President Evil. And I’m thinking most won’t judge him favorably, especially if you can construct concrete evidence against him.”

“That’s what we’re working on,” I say. “So how do we spot all the messages, for the purposes of erasing them?”

“They could be anywhere. That’s why you’ve got such an impossible task ahead of you. Could be stereograms on posters, newspapers, individual correspondence, or anything else that has an image.”

“Stereograms?” Rogue asks, sounding intrigued.

“Oh, lordy, you lot should really get a proper education,” Ren says with a tired sigh. “Stereograms are two images laid on top of each other. The one your conscious mind sees is the acceptable one. The one your subconscious mind sees and usually accepts, because it’s so gullible, is the subliminal message, usually words, maybe an inspiring image.”

An almost overwhelming pressure creeps into my head and settles there as I think about all the thousands of places Vider could have placed these messages, right under the noses of his people.

“There’s also a more persuasive technique of doing this same thing with music or recordings of voices,” Ren says, his words adding to the weight building in my head. “And I suspect that the President has many other strategies he’s employing to maintain control. You lot will have a field day figuring them out, for sure.”

“And you’re also doing some investigating,” I say. “You’ll share with us, right?”

“No, missy, I work alone,” he says.

I shrug, having expected this answer. The sun has set during our long time here, and it will be safer for Rogue and me to move across the Valley to our next location. “All right, we’ll leave now. This gives us something to work on.”

“Thanks for your help,” Rogue says, nodding his head at Ren, who scowls at him in return.

I turn at the door, remembering something. “Hey, do you recall when you asked me what my name was short for?”

“Barely,” Ren says, through a loud obnoxious yawn.

“Well, you thought it was unlikely that my mother would name me just Em.”

“That’s right. So you figured it out, did you?” he says, a clever, knowing grin on his face.

I step forward, angle my head to the side. “You know? You said you didn’t.”

“I figured it out after we spoke. Lyza has always believed in gods and symbolism.”

“What?” Rogue says at my side. “What are you talking about? Your name isn’t Em?”

I shake my head. “It’s Morta. I was named after the goddess of death. Tutu told me.”

Ren snickers, like this is funny. I whip around, heat rising in my head. “How dare you laugh? That’s the worst name I can ever think of giving a child and you’re laughing about it!”

He stops, but the smile on his face doesn’t fade. “I wasn’t laughing at the name your deranged mother gave you. I was laughing that she had somehow scored three girls, which made her plan work out beautifully, although the whole thing is completely bizarre.”

“What? What do my sisters have to do with any of this?”

Ren pushes up to a standing position, plucks a book off a stack that sits on the ground to the side of the furniture. He hands it to me, looking too amused right now. “You weren’t the only one named after a goddess.”

I angle my eyes down low. The book is entitled Metamorphoses and it’s by Ovid.

“You and your sisters were named after the Parcae, mythical embodiments of destiny from ancient Roman religion,” Ren says, and then motions to the book. “It will fill you in on where your mother got this weird inspiration. But something of interest is these goddesses spun the fate of the world.”

“What?” I say, looking from the book to Ren. “Why would she name us after them? What does all that mean?”

“Your mother’s always been a bit batty, so probably means nothing.” I nod and turn to leave. At my back Ren says, “Of course, she can also see the future, so wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t a great deal of significance to it all.”

I leave him with one last annoyed look, which he returns.

Chapter Twenty-One

Thunder rumbles overhead as we dart between shadows, moving faster than a motorcycle on the streets. We’re not even breathless when we arrive at Zack’s back door. I chance a look at Rogue. He stares down at me, strength in his eyes.

“Thanks for allowing me to leech you,” I say, standing up on my tiptoes, planting a kiss on his cheek. He whips his head around superfast and my kiss lands on his mouth. He sucks me in, magnetizing me to him with each stroke of his lips. Each of our kisses is one of relief that we accomplished so much today without being caught. And also that we are in this together, holding each other when the Valley around us is a mess of lies and treachery. I peel back from Rogue, but not easily. He follows my lips as they pull away. Unable to resist, I allow him to kiss me again and then a clap of thunder reigns from overhead. In unison we flip our heads up to the purplish sky, expecting to see drops fall any second.

“Better get you inside quick,” Rogue says, his hand on the door handle. “Hard to believe this will be the third place we’ve broken into today.”

“My fourth, actually,” I say as he steps through the door and pulls me in behind him. “Remember, I went into my old house.”

“That’s right,” Rogue says, searching the darkened kitchen.

“And I already broke into Zack’s house, so I’m not sure it counts.”

Rogue whips around. “You’ve already been here before?”

I nod. “You should have seen Zack’s face when I surprised him. He totally didn’t expect to see me. Probably thought I was a deranged murderer at first.”

“That’s my girl,” Rogue says with a proud smile.

“Thanks. I actually stayed here the first two nights.”

Rogue pauses at the door to the living room and turns back to me. He gives me a strange expression, then it shifts to a knowing smile. He peeks his head in through the swinging door and then turns back to me. “Living room is empty, but there’s a light in the next room. I bet that’s where Zack is.”

“It’s his study,” I say. “Is he alone?”

“He’s Zack,” Rogue says, like that says it all. “Of course he’s alone. He’s probably crafting the plan to take over the world right now.”

I giggle. “Probably.”

“All right, well, it’s my turn to scare him,” Rogue says and tugs me through the door. The living room is cast in darkness, but the light from the open study door provides enough to see. Rogue is beside me and then all of a sudden he disappears. Completely disappears. Zips so fast from me and into the study that my eyes don’t register the movement. And a second later there’s a muffled shriek, followed by laughter. I take my time making my way to the study. When I duck my head in, Zack is doubled over laughing in his office chair and Rogue stands beside him looking proud, a crooked smile plastered on his face. He winks at me. “Apparently, Zachariah didn’t know we were stopping by tonight.”

Zack’s face, which is both tight from laughing and red from the scare, flips up at me. He turns and looks at Rogue. “Seriously, never sneak up on me like that again.”

Rogue holds up his three fingers, all pressed tightly together. “Scouts honor, brother.”

“Don’t believe him,” I say, stepping further into the room. “Rogue’s made that promise to me too and he still sneaks up on me all the time.”

He grabs my hand and tugs me to his side. “That’s ’cause I know you like it.”

I smile at the Oriental rug under our feet. Blush. He’s right, I love when I don’t know he’s anywhere around and then all of a sudden he’s right up against me. His agility is beautiful and alluring.

Zack pushes back from his desk, regards us with a quiet concern, and then picks up the papers he must have thrown into the air when Rogue scared him half to death. “So you two have been pushing the limits, sneaking around town, I see.” There’s a good bit of disapproval in his tone.

I study the office, which is beautiful with its oak walls and leather furniture. It totally reminds me of Zack, with its utilitarian quality. His small writing desk is centered along the shortest wall, making it so his back faces the window. I’m sure he never wants to be distracted by the sunlight and trees in his modest backyard.

“We’ve learned a great deal today actually,” I say, my voice sounding defensive.

Zack nods, a strange interest in his eyes, which are low, distracted. I follow them to where they stare. At my finger laced into Rogue’s belt loop. I slide my hands back to my side. “Can I raid your refrigerator? Then we can fill you in on what we learned.”

He nods again, his eyes now on the ground. I make for the kitchen at once, unable to bear the stressed look on Zack’s face.

“Good thinking, Em,” Rogue says, trailing behind me. “I forgot about that eating thing.”

“It’s easy to do that as Rebels,” I say, winking at him over my shoulder.

I toss the book Ren gave me on the coffee table on my way into the kitchen. My stomach is now rumbling furiously. I yank open Zack’s refrigerator to find it completely bare. Nothing. Not a jug of milk or even a few condiments. All clean shelves sparkle back at me.

I close the door and turn to Zack. “You could have told me I wouldn’t find anything in there,” I say, pointing to the empty refrigerator. “What exactly do you eat?”

He slides his hands into his pockets and drops his eyes. He doesn’t. That’s the answer he won’t supply. Zack probably just eats lunch and that’s only because it’s a part of a meeting or something.

“There should be something in the pantry,” he says, all life gone in his voice. “I think my mother stocked it in case I got hungry.”

“Yes, hungry,” I say, trying to sound playful, trying to loosen him up. “You realize humans get hungry, right? Careful or I’m going to think you’re a vampire.”

His eyes flick to mine, no humor in them.

“What’s with you?” I say to Zack, sensing something terrible weighing on him right now, something more than usual.

“Nothing and just about everything,” he says, loosening a breath. He points at the cabinet. “Check in that one. There should be something to eat.”

I regard him for a long few seconds, which only seems to make him more stressed. Finally I turn and open the cabinet and to my relief I find a bag of rice, a few cans of vegetables, and a nice assortment of spices. Relief falls out of my mouth with a sigh. “I can work with this.”

I start a pot of rice as Rogue begins filling Zack in on what we did from morning until now.

Zack doesn’t say anything, but too many times his worried eyes connect with mine as I move about his kitchen. His hands are pinned on the countertop, and often he grips it, making his knuckles go white. “He kidnapped children?” Zack repeats, his eyes large and tragic.

“Babies too,” I say, unable to look anywhere but at the pot of food in front of me. What we’ve learned today is too cruel to be a reality. And harder is that I must digest that it’s a reality I’m connected to.

“This man has to be stopped,” Zack says, pushing off the counter. He looks like he isn’t sleeping as well as not eating. His face is pale and skinnier than I remember. I bet he came straight home from the office and went back to work. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and his shirt is still tucked into his slacks.

“There’s more, man,” Rogue says, downing a glass of water and then refilling it from the faucet. “We’ve been able to determine some of my father’s mind controls, but now we need to actually find them.”

Rogue explains what we learned from Ren while I pile a pilaf of rice, beans, and vegetables onto three plates and hand them off. Zack takes the plate but stares between it and me with a great deal of skepticism.

“Just eat it,” I finally say. “I’m no Middling, but I can cook. Rogue taught me.”

“Oh, and she’s way better at it than me. I cook, but Em knows how to make food taste good,” Rogue says, taking a bite as he smiles at me.

“I’m sure you can,” Zack says, but pushes the plate away. “I’m simply not hungry. Work has me more stressed than usual. And while you two were learning all this today, I discovered something else of importance.”

I set my fork on my plate and pin my focus on Zack. “What?” I say, dread heavy in my voice.

He grips the side of the granite countertop again, angles his head at Rogue, who’s already finishing off his plate. “You said that your father uses multiple strategies for gaining control, right?”

Rogue nods.

“Well, I think I know one of the many he employs on Middlings. I need to research it more, but I’m fairly certain my instinct is correct.” Zack shakes his head. Pushes off the counter, staring at the tile floor. “And it’s so ridiculous that if we expose him for it, we’d look absurd. I’m sure he’s figured that out. That’s why we need other evidence. We need something concrete about these children he abducted for experiments,” he says.

“Of course, Zack,” I say, my patience suddenly wavering. “Just tell us what you learned,” I say and push my plate at Rogue, who’s been eyeing it.

“The Middling water supply…” Zack says and then pauses. “President Vider has been contaminating it with drugs. Somehow he’s had the water systems between their homes and ours segregated. He has them put a solution in the water that goes to Middling homes and from everything I can tell, it’s a drug which causes euphoria.”

“He drugs Middlings to make them happy?” Rogue says, shoving the plate back to the center of the island and taking the space next to me. “Yeah, we’d be crazy to expose him on this. What’s wrong with making people happy?”

“What’s wrong is that he makes them complacent so that they go along with anything he says.” Zack’s voice climbs with anger. “He takes their children’s spinal fluid, makes them work menial jobs, accept low pay, and live in less than acceptable dwellings because they’re happy. They don’t have the choice to complain because of it. But if they had their wits about them then don’t you think they’d rebel? Want more for their life? For their children?”

“Of course they would, but he’s blindfolded them to an extent,” I say.

“Exactly,” Zack says, finally bringing his heavy eyes to meet mine. They make me ache. He’s overburdening himself with all this. He looks suddenly older, suddenly too tired to want to be on this side of the rebellion.

“And you’re right, we can’t expose this,” I say, feeling Rogue’s warmth beside me. “It would look ridiculous. But what we can do is figure out how to break into the water treatment plant and stop this pollution. If Middlings aren’t drugged, then maybe we can break through the brainwashing. And if we take away the other subliminal messages at the same time then we might have a chance.”

Zack nods. “I’ll see what I can learn about the water treatment plant.” His eyes are pinned back down low.

“Damn, my father is a tricky son-of-a-bitch. He’s constructed his power with so many different arsenals that it’s difficult to attack him from only one angle. I guess I have to give it to him for being crafty,” Rogue says, sounding too light. The way he’s shouldered his father’s abuse has always dumbfounded me, but right now it makes me downright mesmerized by him. Rogue is a man who has chosen to dictate his path and not allow his power-crazed father any control over him. I love him more now than ever. Without realizing it my hands have already slid around his waist, my head tucked into his chest as he holds me into his side.

“So now we need to find the evidence on these other offenses,” Zack says, his voice sounding tight, mechanical.

I straighten slightly and stare up at Zack, who’s regarding the tile with great curiosity. “We’ll dream travel to the Government Center and search for evidence,” I volunteer.

Zack clenches his eyes together. “Fine.” He flips his head up and looks directly at me. “I want you to be care—”

His statement of caution is cut off by the ding-dong of his doorbell. We all freeze. Stare at each other. Suck in what could be a last breath.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Who could that be?” I ask, breaking the ten seconds of silence that follows the doorbell. Then it comes again, like a persistent ache in my throat.

Ding-dong.

“I have no idea,” Zack says, his face blank with astonishment.

“Well, go get the door,” I say, waving my hands at him.

He gives a slow nod. Turns, like a robot, and walks way too slowly out of the kitchen. I spin around to Rogue who’s actually giving me a sly smile.

“You’re so damn bossy,” he says, the flirty edge always present in his voice.

“Oh shush,” I say, lending him a punishing look.

The front door clicks when Zack opens it. “Oh, hey,” I hear him say from the other room. He sounds surprised. Nervous. Rushed.

Clink. Clank. Clink. Clank. Someone’s shoes reverberate across his bamboo wooden floor. A loud clap of thunder echoes overhead. My breath halts in my chest.

“I think I made it right before the storm broke,” Dee says, her nasally voice bringing an immediate grimace to my face.

“What are you doing here?” Zack asks from the other room, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“What’s that mean? Aren’t you happy to see me?” she says, venom quick to rise in her voice.

“Yes, of course. It’s simply that I’m working and didn’t expect you.”

Click. Clack.

“Well,” she says, her tone softening, lengthening. “I hadn’t seen your new home yet, and thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity. Actually, I was surprised you hadn’t invited me over already.”

Rogue watches me as we both listen to the exchange. He’s sharing my look of annoyance.

“I’ve been meaning to have you over, I’ve merely been too busy.”

“You know,” Dee says, her footsteps chirping across the wood as she takes a tour of the living room, “my mother didn’t think it was prudent that I come here tonight. That I be alone with you behind closed doors. She said it was a careless move that someone like Em would do, putting herself alone with men, not concerned for how it appears to the general public.”

I roll my eyes, ungrateful to still be my mother’s example of how not to behave.

“Your mother is very mindful in these situations, maybe she is right. I don’t want either of us to be judged dishonorably.”

“Oh, that’s so foolish,” Dee says, walking across the floor again, her voice drawing closer. “Soon it won’t matter what anyone thinks, will it? Once we’re official, that is.”

Zack coughs. Clears his throat. “Can I offer you a drink?” he says, avoiding her insinuation.

“What you can offer me is a tour. I’m anxious to see the whole house. I think if it all looks like this, then it’s definitely in need of my designer eye.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Zack says, his words clipped. He takes a few steps, probably in Dee’s direction.

“Aren’t we going to start with the downstairs?” Dee asks, her voice failing to hide its excitement. “Why are you leading me to the second floor?”

“I think I’d rather start the tour with the bedrooms,” Zack says, and his tone doesn’t carry the provocative hint I think he wished to add for good measure.

“I like the way you think, Mr. Conerly,” Dee says, her voice growing faint as she moves away. The clatter of her heels halts. There’s a pause. “What is this book?” she asks.

Zack doesn’t answer.

“Metamorphoses,” she says carefully, reading the cover. “This is a strange old book. Not one from the approved library,” Dee says, her voice growing with curiosity. “Where did you get this?”

“I…” Zack stutters. Pauses. “I confiscated it from a Middling. They must have snuck it through when they were adopted into our borders.”

“That filthy race. They’re almost good for nothing,” Dee says, acid in her tone. “I think we extend way too much kindness to them, make them serve us by serving them. They should be punished into serving us. Maybe when you and I are higher up in this society that will be a reality.”

“Maybe,” Zack says, a cold edge to his voice. I hear the book being dropped back onto the coffee table. “Shall we commence this tour?”

“Yes, let’s get on with it,” Dee says, her voice making my skin crawl with revulsion.

***

“I kinda forgot how irritating Dee is,” Rogue says as we stand on the portico of Zack’s back door, staring out at the rain-soaked grass. It’s pouring so hard I can barely make out his whispered words in my ear.

“Irritating?” I question.

“Well, no, she’s actually incredibly creepy, but I didn’t wanna appear all scared by a girl.”

“Don’t worry, everyone’s scared of Dee. She’s soulless.”

“Hard to believe Zack can play the act so well, he’s a master at hiding his emotions.”

“Yeah, he covered for me flawlessly,” I say.

“I think we have to go now,” Rogue says, turning back to spy through the door. “He was trying to buy us some time. Who knows what poor things that honest man will have to endure to protect us?”

“I’m ready,” I say, and set off in a blur down the steps. I’m across the yard and through the alleyway in a couple of seconds. My speed is so fast that the pounding rain hardly registers on my shirt.

We round the last corner before Central Boulevard in less than a minute. Using Rogue’s gift of speed we’ll be back to camp in only a few minutes. I’m halfway across the street when a stabbing pain attacks my heart. A light so bright I fear it will blind me steals my vision. I’m certain I’ve run straight into a truck. But there’s no metal. No screeching tires. No sound of a collision. Just a catastrophic attack on all of my senses. My eyes burn. My ears ring like a church bell went off in my head. And every inch of my skin sears like my flesh is burning. And then all at once it ceases.

I’m returned from the mysterious pain to a state of confusion and hyperventilated breaths. Rogue regards me from several yards away. It’s probably where he stopped when he realized I wasn’t beside him. I blink away the rain. He stares back at me, grave concern on his face. “I’m fine,” I say, through a tight breath. Relief, so pure and encouraging, spreads across his cheeks. I take a step toward him when an invisible wrecking ball smashes into me. My palm and then my knee and then the rest of me collides with the asphalt. Over an inch of water flows on the pavement, soaking my jeans. And whatever just knocked me down stole my energy. Exhaustion rips through me, and I fear the currents of the flooding water will pull me away, down Central Boulevard. On hands and knees I try to breathe past the fire in my chest, but it owns me and second by second, I believe it will end me.

Rogue grips my shoulders, speaks into my ear. “Em? What is it?”

I can hardly breathe, hardly hold myself up off the flooding sidewalk. I make to reach for him and he pulls me up so I can see him. His hair is soaked, slicked back, reminding me of the way everyone else looks in Austin Valley. Rain splatters him, dripping off his nose, eyelashes, and earlobes. He looks me over, a worried craze in his face. “You haven’t released all that leeched power. You have to do it now or it will burn you up.”

I know he’s right, but I can’t. “Not here,” I breathe out somehow through the pain. “There’s too much. I might do serious damage.” I motion with my eyes to the store-packed plaza that surrounds us. “I can’t do it here,” I say, and unable to keep my head up from the mind-numbing ache in my chest, I slump against his shoulder.

“You have to, but you’re right, not here.” Rogue scoops me into his arms, and I allow my head to fall into the crook of his neck. Then he’s moving, running at lightning speed, climbing, barreling. Jumping. And in a few seconds’ time the air shifts, grows colder. Without warning he sets me on my feet, but holds me up. “Here,” he says, pointing up. “Unleash on that.”

I peel open my eyes to find we’re standing on the rooftop of one of the stores in the plaza. Rogue must have climbed up a fire stairwell. The rain pounds down all around us, inking my vision. One building over, across an alleyway, is the broadcast station for Austin Valley. It’s where all approved television comes from. Five channels. That’s how many we’re allowed to view. Each is labeled for a certain age and race. The ginormous antenna is what owns my attention right now. Even over the crazy burning in my chest, I give audience to this structure, because I know what Rogue wishes me to do. The antenna is the tallest structure in the Valley, soaring over the water tower. It’s skinny and therefore doesn’t demand much attention, but right now, standing twenty feet from it, I’m forced to feel small in comparison.

“Release your energy on it. Get it out before it harms you anymore,” Rogue says, pointing at the shiny structure like it’s an evil entity. “And by doing so you’ll also break down one of my father’s channels for brainwashing.”

He’s right; his father probably does do something to the programming, laying subliminal messages in it to get into the heads of his citizens. It’s a splendid idea. We’ll need to go after the radio stations next. I nod. Lift my hand in the air, and simultaneously Rogue backs up a few feet behind me. The scorching fire in my chest has risen to such an intense pain, but now I welcome it into my body and I’m suddenly not accosted by it like I was on the streets. It feels similar to using reins to steer a horse. I manage the energy now. Direct it. Actually, I know I can negotiate it. I own this power. It’s the energy I’ve leeched out of other people, used. It’s my own power now. But I must let it go before it overpowers me.

In my hand the heat pools. And then an intense burning erupts from my palm, one I think will rip a scream from my lungs. But before it does electricity so rich and pure shoots through my hands and clamps onto the antenna in the distance, sending it into a spider web of shocks. The light from the electricity is blinding. Too white. Too bright. I whip around, shielding my eyes from it, afraid it has the power to reach out and electrocute me. Seeing the energy that was inside me take this form makes me realize how dangerous it is. It’s electricity, which heats homes and also burns them to the ground. Shuffling feet send me backwards, in awe at and also repulsed by what’s come from me. By what’s surging, wrapping, frying the antenna. The electricity fades, but smoke and steam now waft off the burnt structure. If it wasn’t for the rain, I suspect there’d be a great deal of fire.

Warm fingers wrap around my wrist. I turn to catch the shocked expression in Rogue’s eyes, which mirrors my own. “We need to get out of here, but if you don’t mind, I don’t think you should leech me anymore,” he says, a gruffness to his voice. And I’m not completely certain if he’s worried about my power needing to be released again or if he’s feeling drained. Something in his expression tells me it’s both.

“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing his hand. We take off at normal human speed, jumping from rooftop to rooftop for an entire city block. Then we’re in the park and on the trails, stomping through puddles and shivering from the wet cold.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Even though I’ve changed into dry clothes my teeth chatter from the cold, which the rain soaked into my bones. Rogue stretches a wool blanket across us before pulling me back into his warm chest, creating an effective furnace.

“Better?” he whispers behind me.

I nod into his arm.

“Ready to go do some reconnaissance work?”

I pause and then reluctantly nod again. “Yeah. I’d rather go to Fiji with you, but I guess a rebellion isn’t going to start itself.”

“I figure if we locate all the evidence while dream traveling, then all we’ll need to do is swing into Government Center in physical form—”

“You mean break into Government Center,” I correct.

“I like ‘swing,’ it sounds less daunting. Anyway, then we pop in and steal all the evidence.”

“After that do we buzz down to the print store and make copies to post on billboards and distribute to Reverians?”

“Yeah, that will work, but only once we find and remove all the subliminal messages.”

I bury my head more into his strong forearm. “How did we get elected to lead this rebellion again?”

With his hand on my chin, Rogue encourages me to half turn back to face him. He’s sitting up a little. “We were born into these roles.”

“Yeah, apparently, I’m going to be the death of the Reverians,” I say, thinking of my namesake.

“Death isn’t such a bad thing, Em,” Rogue says, as I turn back around.

“Death is the worst thing,” I snap back at him.

“There are things worse than death. Death is like birth. It’s a beginning. A change. An entry into a new world. Living in a world plagued by wrong, that’s worse than death,” Rogue says, conviction in his words. I listen, swept away by how this all seems to flow out of him. “To exist in a world wanting to love and feeling abandoned is worse. Neglect. Abuse. Betrayal. All of these things are worse than death. All death is an ending, which is the natural order of things. My guess is that you do have a great weight to your name, but it doesn’t have to be the curse you think your mother intended. If I know you, you’ll turn it around and use it to your favor.”

At the punctuation to his speech I wiggle around in his arms until I’m directly facing him and lay my head against his chest. “You know, Rogue, when this whole rebellion is over, I say we sign you up for motivational speaking.”

He kisses the top of my head and a small sigh falls from his mouth next. “Yeah, let’s just focus on the here and now until this is over.”

I close my eyes and smile, his warmth having ended my shivers. “Meet me there in few?”

“I’ll be there, babe.”

***

My father’s office is exactly the way it was the last time I spied it. The shelves are all neatly arranged, holding hundreds of books and artifacts he’s collected. The office furniture is perfectly orderly. Funny, that I could move a chair a half an inch and that would be enough to tell him I’ve been here. He craves order above everything else. My father used to tell me, “The world is whole only because some choose organization, otherwise it would fall to pieces.”

I don’t believe that for a second. It’s how I’m starting to break out of the brainwashing my father did to me on his own sick level. The world is whole because people choose to love each other and treat one another with respect. Organization is a part of the system, a by-product. Organization is something that happens when people value life and their surroundings. To think our existence needs to be centered on a starched appearance and a tidy home is outrageous.

Rogue’s mind-soothing form materializes a few minutes after mine. “So…” he says, drawing out the word. “We need to confirm the report on killing babies is in the drawer and then find more evidence, right?”

I flinch. “Do you have to put it so casually?”

“I’m ’fraid I do. This sickness that is my father has made me have to desensitize myself a bit. Otherwise I fear if I put too much emotion into it then I’d never keep a clear head. I despise them for what they’ve done, and my casual phrasing shouldn’t make you think for a second I’m making light of it.”

“Rogue, you’re doing a lot of talking tonight,” I say, making an observation. “More than usual for sure. Any particular reason you’ve been inspired?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got a lot to voice.” His eyes don’t connect with mine. They manage to dart away from me when I step into his line of vision. He slides around me, headed for the file cabinet. The plan is that tonight, instead of using his gift of apportating the files out of the cabinet, we’ll actually break into the drawer so we’ll know the exact location of the evidence when we return in physical form.

“Go for it,” I say to Rogue as he studies the lock.

***

We were able to locate three pieces of evidence inside my father’s cabinet. One is the report we originally found that ties the President to the manslaughter of Middling babies in an attempt to determine how to properly withdraw their spinal fluid. The other two reports we found could be used as evidence to tie President Vider to the kidnapping and testing of Middling and Dream Traveler children. They’re mostly ancillary evidence, but under the right light might make a case. We’ll have to investigate Vider’s office to find more.

We’re about to exit my father’s office and take the short walk to the President’s when I pause at the door. High up on the shelf above my father’s desk is a new statue. One that replaces the Lady of Justice which I broke when I snuck in here the first time. My father somehow figured it out and left the statue on my bed as a clue that he was on to me. He was starting a game and I know so very well how much he loves to play with people, but only if he has the upper hand.
“Hold up,” I say to Rogue.

He pauses in the hallway, his transparent appearance reminding me of a ghost, although he’s full of color.

I march over to the statue and pluck it from its spot. It’s porcelain like the other one. This Lady of Justice statue is all white. The scales and sword she holds in each hand are bigger than the old one. Her white blindfold is subtle, having no contrast against her white face. I hold the body of the lady in my hand and bring the head down on the desk with a swift strike. It breaks in two, shards shattering off of it, spraying around on the desk. With only a slight glance I toss the body on the table top, leaving it for my father to find in the morning.

“Why’d you do that?” Rogue says, giving me a skeptical glance.

“Tutu says my father acts on edge since I’ve been gone. Fears I might return.”

“And you figure there’s no disadvantage to him knowing you have? That you’re prowling?”

“I figure the more fearful he is, the more irrational he’ll become, which might lead to mistakes.”

Rogue continues staring at me with skeptical eyes. It’s cute on his usually accepting face. “Oh, and fine,” I say, waving my hand at him. “I wanted to stick it to my father. We don’t get many battle victories right now. I need something to keep up morale.”

“I’ll allow it,” Rogue says, leading the way down the long ornamental rug which runs the length of the Presidential wing. His shoulders tense as he takes each swift step. Even in dream travel form his body registers the stresses of his mind. I want to reach out and touch his hand, lend support, but Rogue needs to do some of this on his own. I sense that.

He gracefully pauses in front of the overly decorated door to his father’s office. The molding around the frame must have taken a Middling craftsperson months to complete. It’s gaudy, and doesn’t make me think a President leads from this office, but rather someone who thinks they’re a king. Rogue’s strong hand presses down on the door handle and he slips into the office. I’m at his back, ready to investigate, when I slam into him. He halts, and then simultaneously backs up, shielding me with his body.

“Hello, son,” I hear Vider’s voice sing somewhere in front of us. My mind blanks. Adrenaline kicks in. I hadn’t been on the defensive. Mistakenly I thought we were safe here because we’re dream traveling. My leeching skill, which would have clued me into Vider’s presence earlier on, was turned off. I suddenly throw myself into overdrive, leeching in the powers around me, feeling them like the fingers in a glove. At once I register two distinct powers, Rogue’s and his father’s. I know his father’s, having leeched him in the labs. Whereas Rogue’s is clean and light, Vider’s power feels heavy and lethal, like gasoline.

Thoughts race through my mind, bent on piecing together our situation. Vider is dream traveling. To his own office. That’s the only way he could see us. Otherwise we’re ghosts to those not dream traveling.

Rogue’s arm snakes around to protect me from behind him. In his chest, his heart ramps up. He slides his chin over his shoulder and whispers to me. “Go. Now.”

Not in a million years. Never would I leave him here to face off with his father. Never would I leave him.

“No reason to worry, my dear son. I don’t plan to hurt you two tonight.” Vider sounds too casual. Amused. “I only want to talk.” His heart beats at an even pace. Leeching his hyper-senses, I hear only the hearts in the room. I can’t smell while dream traveling, and all I see is the back of Rogue, where he has me pinned.

“There’s no talking to you.” Rogue pushes me with his hand slightly, the gesture obvious. But I’m not going anywhere. “You only hear what you want. And every word out of your mouth is a manipulation.”

“We both know my manipulations don’t work on you and Em,” Vider says, a laugh in his voice. Rogue needs to contain his temper, because it only encourages his father. He knows that. “Do let me lay my eyes on sweet Em, won’t you, son? I want to make sure she’s all right after living in the cruel world outside our borders.”

“No,” Rogue says through clenched teeth.

“Rogue,” I say, trying and failing to push his corralling arm away. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” he says again.

“It’s okay,” I say, using my words, but feeling a skill I don’t own lacing around them. I lay my hand on Rogue’s back and with Vider’s skill I feel him in a way I never have before. The way his blood beats. The exact temperature of his body. The pores in his skin. I’m acutely attuned to Rogue and at the same time able to inject a bit of myself into the touch. Rogue softens a degree. I feel it. Spy it.

And although I know it doesn’t work on Rogue the same way it does on others, I’m now aware of how Vider’s manipulation works. He says something and creates a door in their head. He moves and weakens their inhibitions. And the dance continues with different moves until he encourages his victim to open and walk through the door he created. Vider’s mind control is subtle, like Ren said, and it’s also, employed the right way, deadly. I feel like right now I could hunt down a prey and make them do what I want. I feel his power and it tears at my rational mind. Leaves disgust in my stomach.

Rogue’s arm loses its tension, and he feels around in the space until he finds my hand. Gently he pulls me to his side. My first glance at Vider does nothing to settle the revulsion churning in me. He stands as tall as Rogue, slimmer built though. His coal black hair is parted on the side and slicked back, giving contrast to his pale olive green skin. When his eyes connect with me, he narrows them, his thick eyebrows knitting together. Sliding his hands into his gray-pinstriped suit pockets, he half smiles, though it looks more like a growl. Now that I’m paying attention I recognize the grace with which he moves; it’s like Rogue does, but there’s something nefarious to it, like he’s working to hypnotize. When Rogue moves it’s because that’s his grace, there’s no hidden agenda to it.

Vider’s nostrils flare as he sniffs the air. And then he growls, his clenched teeth flashing. “Good to see you again,” he says, not looking at my face, his lustful eyes pinned on my chest. And the way he laces his words together brings a sour taste to the back of my throat.

To my astonishment, Rogue stays calm. His hand flexes in mine, but otherwise he doesn’t react. I release Vider’s skills, not wanting to burn myself up with his energy, which I don’t need right now.

“I could smell your filth in my house,” Vider says, his gaze shifting back on Rogue. “Why were you there?”

“To get some of my things,” Rogue says, sounding casual. More relaxed. I’m grateful he has his temper in check.

“There’s none of your things left there.”

Rogue shrugs. “Well, I know that now.”

Vider locks his green, punishing eyes on me. “And Em, I figure you’re responsible for taking down the local broadcasting. It won’t last long though,” he says, looking unaffected, unimpressed. “A real shame you’ve chosen to be so unhelpful. You could have been a wonderful asset.” There’s an extra inflection on the last word, which pairs awfully with the sinister look on his face.

“We know what you did,” Rogue says, his voice full of all the warmth his father’s lacks. “We know about the children. The testing.”

“Congratulations,” Vider says, drawing up the corner of his lip with a sneer. “Is that why you’re here? Is that why you’ve invaded my home? Are you trying to stop me?”

“What you’ve done, what you’re doing, is wrong. You don’t see it because you’re blinded by power and greed, but you will be stopped.” Rogue speaks with a courage he didn’t have the last time he confronted his father. Being in dream travel form does offer some comforts because it wouldn’t be hard to escape him. However, in the right circumstances he could kill us right now, but I’m not sure how he’d do that.

“What I don’t understand is why you’re so naïve to stand here in front of me and make these threats not realizing I’ll do everything in my power to hunt you down. I was kind enough to allow you to have your medicine to fix your headaches. I even gave you the chance to leave. But like the idiot that you are, you returned and this time you won’t leave alive.”

“You think you can hunt us down and kill us?” Rogue says with a laugh. “That’s your threat? Do you forget, Em owns every power she encounters?”

“Em isn’t invincible. She has no power on Middlings. To them, she’s solely a little girl they can do whatever they want to. And they’ll do whatever I tell them, know that.”

“And then what? Are you going to kill us the same way you did to my mother?”

Vider pauses. Regards Rogue with even more contempt, but doesn’t become flustered. “Because I’m a man of reason and great tolerance I’ll give you the opportunity to turn yourselves in.”

Rogue laughs again. Actually claps his hand to his chest. Shakes his head in disbelief.

“It would be a great story,” Vider says. “My son returned after all this time. I’d have you converted, of course, but you’d live. Your life might even be a peaceful one, since I’d have your memory wiped clean. No more irksome memories. And none of the tendencies toward unacceptable behavior. Don’t you see, son, I don’t want to kill you, as of now,” he says, angling his head to the side and raising his bushy eyebrow. “I’m giving you a chance to become a member of this society again. I’m giving you a chance at salvation.”

“You’re deranged to think we’re going to buy this bullshit,” Rogue says.

“I didn’t say this deal applied to Em. She’s Damien’s problem, and I suspect he’ll want to deal with her in other ways. She did after all make us look quite foolish that night in the labs, blasting us with electricity. And he’s not the forgiving type like me.”

“You’re delusional to think I’d turn myself in, Father,” Rogue says, biting on the last word.

“What I am is a man who knows how people work. I know how to motivate. You seem to think you’re on a crusade. You’re the one who has deluded yourself to think that these are your people. You’re wrong. These are my people,” Vider says, a heated anger entering his tone. “Rogue, you aren’t in a position of power and it’s time you realize that. You have the option of turning yourself in and—”

“It won’t happen,” Rogue says flatly.

Vider cracks a pleased smile. “And each day you don’t turn yourself in,” he says, acting as if Rogue hadn’t interrupted him, “one Middling child will not survive genetic defect testing. That child will be one of the unfortunate souls who has the defect we test for.”

Rogue freezes. His hand tenses in mine. This isn’t something I know how to navigate. My instinct tells me to run. To dream travel. To stop listening to Vider, but I remain planted in place.

Vider watches us, then casually shrugs. “It’s simple really. At my order, the lab tech takes the withdrawal and then injects another formula. I’ve had it for a decade now.”

“It’s how you murdered those children you kidnapped,” Rogue says, disgust in his voice.

His father smiles.

“You’ll be stopped. You can’t do this.”

“Who’s going to stop me?”

“The US government.”

Vider laughs, a booming one that hurts my ears. “I own that government. I tell them what to think! I make them leave us alone. You may think you know me, what I’m capable of, but you have no idea. Unfortunately, I can’t control your mind, but if I could you’d realize how powerless you are against me. And you’d also realize I’m not an enemy. I’m your redemption. I’ve started small, but look at what I’ve done for my people. And slowly I’m helping more, extending my power to support others.”

“You’re a murderer,” Rogue says.

“So were George Washington, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Alexander the Great. As a leader you have to make sacrifices. You have to do things others won’t.”

“What’s sick is that you believe this,” Rogue says.

“What’s sad is that you don’t, son. You could be happy. Could have a life. No one will argue that my people are happy.”

We both remain silent, not denying him, or giving him any indication that we know the truth.

“Now leave here. You’re pests who have no rights, no control, and no influence. Stop deluding yourself into thinking you can do anything. My people will search for you and if they find you it won’t end well. Or turn yourself in, Rogue, and innocent people won’t die. You have until tomorrow night.” Vider turns and strolls to the cabinets flanking the far wall. He pauses, angles his head over his shoulder, and flicks his eyes at us. “That’s the end of this friendly negotiation.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

We have to act fast. That’s the first thing Rogue and I decide upon returning from our dream travels. We can’t run away, as Vider intends. And Rogue can’t turn himself in. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to let Vider tick off innocent lives every single day. I’m confident he’ll make good on his threat, and the news would create a great stir, making Middlings more likely to have their infants tested. It’s another win-win for the President.

We need to escalate our plans. I’d told Parker he had as much time as he needed, but now I’ll have to take what he has. And wherever Nona is with her explosives and planning will have to be enough. We don’t have time to wait, to make the plan perfect. Not one baby will die. And if we are successful then Vider will have so much to worry about that the last thing he’ll do is have time to punish Rogue. He’ll be scrambling to find a way to control an entire population of Defects, soon to become Rebels.

“You promise to be extra careful?” Rogue says for the thirteenth time since we concocted the plan for the day.

The rain finally broke at sunset. I slide on a sneaker, knotting it twice. With my face angled to the side I shake my head at him. “No, I’ll only be careful. Nothing extra,” I say, letting a smile slip from my lips.

He sighs. Throws himself back, his hands in his tangled curls. I was hoping my joking would cut the tension, but I’m not sure if anything can at this point. We awoke, unable to exit the tent and knowing we shouldn’t dare try to sleep or dream travel again. All night we held each other and listened past the drops of rain for Vider’s search team. He said Rogue had until tonight, but he’s not a man to be taken at his word.

“If you encounter any problems, I want your first instinct to be to leech and electrocute or whatever you need to do to survive,” Rogue says, his wild eyes staring at the mesh green ceiling of the tent.

“It won’t come to that,” I assure him. “I’ve snuck through the Valley before.”

“But my father wasn’t on alert.” Rogue bolts back to a sitting position, a restlessness living in him. “Gods, I hate letting you go off on your own.”

I rest my hand on his and wait until he brings his frantic eyes to mine. They’re rimmed with fatigue. Mine must be too, but the hour of dream travel will be our saving grace; it’s way more restorative than sleep. “Go with me, Rogue.”

His wide lips pinch together. Jaw flexes. Eyes stiffen. “No,” he says with a rough shake of his head. “I’m not ready to see Dr. Parker. Not yet.”

I open my mouth, but snap it shut before I say something which will only make him more stressed. Since we returned from his father’s office he’s had an extra strain in his gaze, his eyes coated in what feels like an unending worry. I wish we’d never traveled to the Government Center. I wish he’d never had to stand in front of his father and face his manipulation and threats.

“Okay, it’s better this way anyway,” I say, zipping up my jacket and laying my hand on his leg, which is buzzing with his nerves. Seeing Rogue this worked up isn’t rare, it’s an absolute first. He’s my calm in commotion. He’s the rebel smiling when the danger mounts. He’s the guy daring to joke in the face of death. But that’s not what I’m witnessing in him right now, and it’s strangely all right. It brings a new courage to my heart. If Rogue needs to worry, then I’ll be his shelter. If his nerve has weakened then I’ll lend him mine. “You relay messages to Nona and Zack and I’ll meet you three this afternoon” I say.

Rogue nods, his eyes not meeting mine. “Okay,” he says, leaning into me, but seeming to be locked away in his head. His lips graze mine, a mechanical movement.

“I’ll see you soon,” I say, and stand and exit the tent before he stops me with his doubtful eyes.

***

The earliest I could ever get an appointment with Parker was nine in the morning. I’m hoping that means he doesn’t leave his house much earlier than that. Traveling through the Valley this time is a little trickier than before. People are bustling to work and I don’t have the gift of Rogue’s incredible speed. However, I’ve learned how to move so I don’t gain attention. I have a beanie pulled down low over my loose blonde curls. My nervous hands are concealed in the pockets of a gray hoodie. And the jeans I wear tell onlookers I’m not worth a second glance. From their eyes I’m a Middling. The only chance a Reverian will notice me is if I run into them, but I’m careful to keep my path clear. I’m careful to move in a way that makes me instantly forgettable. Indistinct. Unidentifiable.

Parker and his family live in a modest bungalow. It’s a third of the size of my home, but it’s pristine. He’s a doctor and therefore assigned moderately desirable housing. I slip down the alley when no one else is on the street and then enter his gate, the second on the right. I’m growing extremely tired of entering houses from the back door, but not more than I wish to rid this world of Vider’s cruelty. I knock softly on the door and wait. At least I’m not entering his house without permission. A solid minute passes. It’s a quarter after seven.

He has to be home. Has to.

There’s no way I can speak to Parker at the lab. It’s excessively busy. And there’s too many people who know me. Again I knock on the door, careful to make it loud enough to be heard inside the house, but soft enough not to draw attention from neighbors. A Middling knocking at Parker’s back door would draw curious attention. It would be reported immediately.

The door handle jiggles a few times, like the person on the other side doesn’t know which way to turn it. Finally the door slides back three inches. An eye draped in wrinkles stares back at me. Gray and black hair hangs on the other side of the enquiring brown eye. “What do you want?” a croaky voice says.

“To speak to Dr. Parker,” I answer at once, wanting to bolt through the door, blasting past this ancient door keeper. “We’re working together and I need to see him.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” the old woman says with a slight accent, pulling the door back to show her whole face. This must be Parker’s mother. She’s not as old as Tutu, but close. In her eyes is a tenacious spirit and boldness that I would salute if it wasn’t keeping me from seeing an important person.

“I can’t prove it. Just tell him that Em is here to see him,” I say, standing tall, not an ounce of pleading in my voice. Something tells me this isn’t the type of woman you beg to. She would see that as a weakness.

Her cheeks rise with the flick of a smile. “Em, huh?” she says in a distinctly different voice than the one she had seconds prior. “You said you worked together, why didn’t you simply say you’re a patient?” She opens the door wide, a welcoming gesture. “And why are you dressed like that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have time to explain. Is Parker here? Can I see him?”

She nods. Turns. Hustles off through the kitchen and down a darkened hallway. “Ibwa, Ji-hoon, sonnim-i,” the old woman says in Korean, then turns back to me briefly. “He’ll be down in a minute.” And then she hurries to another room, leaving me standing in the kitchen which has strange smells and utensils I don’t recognize. Through the wall I hear Parker’s mother talking to someone in Korean. Parker’s father probably.

A few seconds later quick footsteps race down the staircase. Parker says something to his mother, his Korean choppier, less flowing than his mother’s. She responds and then more hurried footsteps.

Parker races into the kitchen, fear in his features, his movements, his raspy breaths. “What are you doing here?” he says, his voice crazed with worry. He has on his usual get-up, button-up shirt, tie, and slacks. He’s only lacking the white lab coat.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice actually lacking any remorse, “but I have to have the locations for the formulas now. Things have escalated. Vider is on to us.”

Parker flips his head over his shoulder, checking the hallway where he just came from. His movements vibrate with caution. “Shhh,” he says. “Not so loud. Why did you come here?” His voice a tight whisper, his eyebrows drawn together.

“I had to. I didn’t have another choice,” I say, matching his volume. “But don’t worry. I wasn’t followed. We have to act fast though, so I need those locations. Whatever you have.”

“Em, you shouldn’t have—”

“Too late,” I say, cutting him off. “And this whole rebellion will be too late if you don’t hand over what you have. Vider has made some serious threats and I only have one chance to stop him.”

Parker seems to consider this. He pushes his black-rimmed glasses up on his nose with one finger. “Okay, but in the future, you have to stay away from my family. Leave them out of it. Don’t draw attention to them.”

“There shouldn’t be any future with you and me. I need the locations and then we’re done. Then I’m gone from your life and you’ll be free to decide how to proceed.”

He nods, seeming agreeable to this notion. “Although I haven’t decided how to proceed after this. I guess it will depend how things shift.”

“Hopefully dramatically,” I say. I extend a hand. “Do you have the maps?”

“Yes, I’ll get them, but they aren’t complete, although mostly.” He rushes from the room, leaving me staring at the blank spot he just occupied.

He doesn’t leave me waiting long. “Here,” he says, laying three crisp pieces of paper in my hands. They aren’t the maps I drew. They’re better, with straight lines and neat labels. They’re an exact makeup of the labs. Areas are highlighted in blue. Numbers alongside these areas indicate the amount of units of cerevitium there. And beside those are special instructions detailing how to gain access when codes are needed.

“Thank you,” I say, daring to fold the pristine maps and slip them into my hoodie.

“You’ll also need a new keycard, since they changed out everything after you broke into the lab the first time,” Parker says. He holds out a card with his face neatly imprinted on it. “Here.”

“But if I take that, then how will you—”

“I have two,” he says, and for the first time this morning a tired smile surfaces on his face. “I’m notorious for leaving mine at the labs, so they issued me two. It’s kind of an ongoing joke about how I’m a talented doctor, but can’t find my own left shoe.”

“I don’t really find that funny.”

“Nor I,” he says, agreeing with a nod of his head.

“So that’s all we need. Done deal.”

“Well, you also need a lot of luck, but I can’t help you with that.”

“I know you would if you could.”

He gives me an uncomfortable stare. This isn’t something he ever expected or thought he’d have to circumnavigate. Helping terrorists.

“Parker, I’m sorry to have come here, but thank you. Thank you for the maps and for the key card and agreeing to see Rogue.”

“How is he?” he asks, his face instantly coated with concern.

A thought accosts me. Stuns me. “Actually, he hasn’t had a headache in the last day,” I say, realizing how strange that is. He always has headaches. Every day. Two or three a day.

Parker nods, but in his expression he seems to be contemplating something. Calculating.

“You still can’t think of any reason he won’t see you?” I question.

“No. Not one.”

“It’s so strange too,” I say, pulling my beanie off my head, which is now sweltering from the heat of the house. “And then even stranger is why I don’t have the headaches too.” I slide my hair back, which has frizzed from the autumn humidity.

“I actually have an answer for that one,” Parker says, although he doesn’t look too keen to share.

“Go on.”

“I’ve been investigating, as you know, and found out that Rogue may be alone in suffering from his headaches.”

Instantly my heart sinks to leagues below any salvageable place inside of me. It’s not that I want to suffer alongside Rogue, but I can’t know he’s the only one. He can’t be.

“Rogue was the first Defect and in being so he received the first synthesized formulas,” Parker says as he begins to pace, staring at the tiled linoleum. “As you know, those formulas were synthesized from spinal fluid from brand new babies. All twelve of those withdrawals were actually used in injections given to Rogue. Then, according to what you said, they started taking the spinal fluid from older infants and—”

“Because the first twelve died from it,” I say, my words hostile.

“Right,” Parker says, his voice a croak. “So the next formula, which would have been what new Defects received, was synthesized from these more mature Middling children.”

“Parker,” I say, a bite in my voice. He jumps slightly, but continues pacing. “What are you saying?”

He pauses and turns to face me. “If my inclination is correct, then the cerevitium given to Rogue was too strong. That formula wasn’t right yet and that’s the reason he gets the headaches and you don’t.”

“What?” I say, clapping my hand to my mouth from the loudness of my voice. “What does that mean for him? What can we do?”

“I’m looking into it. I think there might be a remedy, but I need more time. Rogue was exposed to too much of a potent formula. His lateral prefrontal cortex was overwhelmed and then when he escaped…well, it’s like an addict going off a drug, but not precisely like that. I’m not certain exactly what’s going on with him. This is all conjecture, but if I could see him, if you persuade him, then I’ll solidify what I’m hypothesizing. Nevertheless, I believe that he’s probably suffering from some brain damage and it’s definitely caused by those early injections.”

My insides squirm with unease. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Fear chases my thoughts around, making it impossible to think. But I do know that even if I have to trick Rogue, I need to get him to Parker. I have to. Rogue might have an instinct on this, but I’m pretty certain that mine is stronger. And it tells me that no matter what, I need to bring Rogue to Parker to have him examined. Then he’ll find a way to fix him for good. Then we’ll live without the worry and pain. And once we put an end to Vider’s rule, then we’ll really live our lives. Happily.

“Thank you,” I say to Parker, who’s looking at his watch. “I hope you figure out your plans, but please know I might need your help with Rogue in the future.”

“And if I’m here, then you’ll have it. Send a message and I’ll meet you both somewhere.”

“Okay,” I say. I open the back door and dart through the yard, all the while hoping I’m unseen.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rogue’s situation overwhelms my thoughts. Blankets them as I scrunch up my shoulders and hustle out of the alley. He’s better now, but will it last? And Parker could help, but how do I convince Rogue to see that? And now we’re facing an impossible mission with a rushed timeline. Every part of my current reality is wrong. All these pieces I have to wrestle with don’t fit. I want to chuck them back at the gods. Ask for better odds. Better pieces. But I’m afraid of what they’d throw back at me. Probably half the opportunity. Probably a lesser fortune.

I’m quick to take a mostly unknown alleyway between two buildings. It’s how I used to cut my commute time down to the labs. Unfortunately, it will also spit me out into the middle of the plaza, but from there I’ll take another shortcut that runs along the main roads. I’ll be back to Zack’s house in minutes. Hopefully the extra time will give me a chance to firm up the plans and be ready for our pow-wow.

As I near the end of the alley three things catch my attention at once: a lifeless, once familiar face, a line of yellow tape, and a poster. The face hustles by almost too fast, but I recognize it as the young boy who always flirted with Nona. Scott. He had been a Defect. I couldn’t accurately say what he is now. His face registers zero emotions. His lifeless eyes are an instrument for seeing, but not for anything else. There’s a coldness to him, like the place that radiated his emotions has been cut out. He’s the one Nona said elected to be converted early. He’s now a Middling, but he isn’t, because they feel. Scott appears too robotic to be classified in the human species. He marches down the sidewalk and disappears into a building.

Then my eyes swivel to the glossy yellow tape which serves as a barrier around the television station. Reverians regard it with a quiet interest as they pass, careful not to pay it too much attention since it’s not relevant to their business. Curiosity is considered a fault in judgment. A sin of sorts. If that’s correct then I’m damned. My eyes run over the destruction of the charred antenna, which still stands, but the lights that always blinked on top are out. The fiberglass casing is burned, leaving a large black hole in one of the nodules. And the dishes on the side of the structure are scorched. Antennas are built to withstand lightning, but this one doesn’t appear to have managed the assault of my electricity well at all. Maybe it was my proximity. Or maybe it was the combination of the rain and the amount of power I had stored. I’m definitely no expert on this. However, I know without a doubt the broadcast antenna isn’t functioning as it should.

Finally my eyes snap onto the large poster covering the brick wall in front of me. It’s on the side of the corner bakery, and the poster, which is the size of a van, changes every month. But now seeing it, knowing what I know, I realize what lies beneath the image of the baker holding a loaf of steaming hot bread. My eyes see something and then they don’t. I can’t tell what the image under the other one is. Stereograms don’t work on me, I know that. And I also know that there’s something else to the image I see plastered on the brick of the corner bakery. Something that’s supposed to compete with the messages in my head. Something that’s supposed to erase them. And the more I squint my eyes and try to find the message, the quicker it hops away, like a white rabbit encouraging me to follow. My feet carry me farther as my eyes try and fail to decipher the deception of the poster.

And then, when the sunlight pierces my retinas, I realize that my attention has been distracted for too long. I’ve walked straight out of the alleyway, not vigilant of my surroundings. I’ve made a fatal error. And I know it too late.

“Eww, Father, look, it’s her,” Dee’s too-recognizable voice squeals beside me.

My eyes flick to Dee, standing, wrapped in a knee-length camel hair coat, her arm tucked neatly around our father’s. He straightens as his eyes narrow on me. Maybe it’s the glare of the sunlight, but his gaze seems to take a moment to focus, the scowl that runs across his features delayed. I’m partially cast in the dark shadows of the alley, although on my way out. I should turn and run now, but staring at his sinister expression makes my blood turn to concrete. My father looks as he always has. Thin, but healthy. Unmarked by wrinkles, only the cost of experience marking his blue eyes with maturity. His blond hair is slicked back and too short to curl like mine, but his hair is mine and we share more than that. We share a strange perversion for facing each other when I know we both would rather not.

“Em, how long have you been stalking us from the shadows?” he asks, his chin rising up high, although his eyes cast down searching me from the dark where I stand.

I pull my beanie down low and regard him with a quiet animosity. Dee, beside him, looks pleased, a spiteful grin turning up the corners of her red lips. For the love of the gods, she’s even more repulsive now, I hear her think, having leeched my father’s telepathy immediately. Why Zack ever wasted his time with her, I’ll never know. He’s such an idiot, that’s probably why. He’s a pliable idiot though, and that’s fine by me.

“Em,” my father says, stepping forward, away from Dee. A smile that chills my core flashes across his face. He looks both giddy to find me and also hungry for revenge. He extends a leather-gloved hand. “Won’t you come with me? We’ve missed you and have so many things to catch up on,” he says, his voice flat, lacking any sentiment.

It’s too early. He’s on his way to work. He hasn’t found the statue or met with Vider. But my father doesn’t seem flustered to see me here.

I slap his hand away and stand back as he reaches to grip for my wrist. Dee gasps from the exchange, like I’ve done something of great offense.

“Oh, I see you’re still mad about what happened in the labs,” my father says, staring down at me, a too-cool smile on his face.

“Do you mean when you tried to have me converted into a Middling, thereby stripping me of the rights given to me by the gods to dream travel? Or are you referring to when you said you didn’t care if I died?” I say, stepping up close to his face. “No, I’m not still mad about that or the fact that you were indifferent to the threats Vider made to me.”

You think you’re going to win this one, he thinks, his breath hot, but steady.

I know I will.

Where have you been, Em?

“Why should it matter to you?” I say aloud. An alarmed expression jumps to Dee’s face.

“I’m curious,” he says.

Well, hopefully it will kill you. Curiosity is a dirty thing, remember?

“That’s not nice to say to your father,” he says, his voice full of superficial warmth.

“You told me something was wrong with me!” I yell, but the people on the streets are quick to direct their attention to the pavement under their feet. The moment my voice catches their ears they turn away, afraid of their own interests. “You ordered me to have painful injections to fix me. Called me a shame to my family, but I wasn’t. It’s the injections that suppressed my gift. And you did this all because I have the ability to resi—”

“STOP!” my father booms so loudly that some people do pause, but soon resume their commutes to work or school. They hear our words, our argument, and yet they don’t allow it more than an ounce of their uninvited attention. Having this argument right here in the busy plaza makes me realize how impossible my mission is. If I can’t make them see the conspiracies of our society now, how will I ever?

“Father,” Dee says, her voice a wail, like that of an annoying cat’s. “What is she talking about?”

“Maybe you should go along to work alone, Dee,” my father says, his eyes boring into mine, his presence pressing against me with two steady steps. I stumble back from him, creeping deeper into the dark alley.

“She doesn’t know?” I say in disbelief. “Why not? Someone as soulless as Dee would endorse your gross plan for domination, don’t you think?’

“Don’t delude yourself into thinking you know what we have planned,” my father says, a stubborn dominance on his features.

“How dare you call me soulless,” Dee says, not leaving, but rather stepping in closer, taking the position at our father’s shoulder.

“You’re a demon that the gods tried to stamp out,” I say to her. “But you somehow scurried away from them. It’s probably because in your real form you have six scratchy legs and will be the last to survive an apocalypse, exactly like all roaches.” I wink at her.

A sound halfway between a growl and hiss springs from her thin lips. And because I know her so well and have been on the receiving end of her abuse all my life, I spy the telegraphing of her arm before it rises. I dart my palm straight in front of me as the fire sprays out of her hand. I thrust the small amount of energy I have from leeching my father out as a bolt of electricity. It meets the fire, seems to wrestle with it for a split second, to compete. I slide to the right as my attack is overpowered and bolts through the air swallowed by my sister’s fire.

She raises an overly manicured eyebrow at me. “Electricity?” she snaps with disgust, shaking her head, her red ponytail swaying with the movement. “That’s your gift? How ridiculous. It’s like the stupid stepchild to fire.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking at my father. “I’m such a freaking failure. Just ask Dad about that, he’ll fill you in on how I failed him in our last meeting.”

You don’t have to patronize me, Em.

Don’t I? You haven’t told my sister that I’m a leech? You haven’t told her that you have plans for destroying half a generation of children? Why do you keep so many secrets? Is it because she can’t be trusted or is it because you know your plans are dishonest and evil? I say to him telepathically.

She wouldn’t care. She’d go along with anything I asked, he says in his mind.

Because as I mentioned before your daughter is a psychopath, I say back silently.

He grimaces at these words. That’s enough, Em. Tell me what you’re doing here.

“No,” I say out loud to a quiet alleyway. Dee’s eyes flick to mine, a strange curiosity in them.

What’s her problem? She’s really lost it this time, my sister thinks. Such a sad soul the gods misinterpreted into Dream Traveler form.

“Oh, is that right, Dee?” I say, turning to face her. Her mouth squeezes together and her pinched nose wrinkles. Dee is taller than me. Skinnier. And has always walked with an undeserved self-entitlement. “Is that what you think? That I’m a sad soul? Some mistake?”

“What?” she stutters. It’s a clumsy thing for her to do. Something she’ll punish herself for later. “Where did you get that?” And her gaze darts to our father.

Stop, Em, he warns in my head. His blue eyes tight with impatience.

What? You don’t want me to tell your prized daughter that I’m not the screw-up you’d have her think? I say telepathically.

She should know no more than she does, my father says in my head.

You don’t want her to know that you’ve made the illusion that I’m a shame to my family? I communicate over the telepathic link.

You are a shame to the Fuller name. Never delude yourself to think less.

I pull my shoulders back and as I do, I fill my lungs with an encouraging breath. Well, I think you should consider me completely deluded at this point. Because I know I am no shame. I know with the certainty of the gods that I’m more powerful than you and Dee and everyone in the Fuller family combined. And I also know that you’re afraid of me. Isn’t that right, Father? I say the words so loud in my head that I spy the flinch register on his tight face.

Dee’s gaze keeps shifting between my father’s and mine. We’re silently pinned on each other, but I notice her concerned eyes as they watch our staring contest. And I relish that she thinks we’re staring at each other with only contempt, ignorant to the fact that we’re also exchanging words full of disdain.

“All I know for certain is you’re a mistake,” my father finally says. Each word spoken deliberately, individually, like an ingredient in a potion. And then he pauses and regards me with irrefutable contempt. “The worst one I ever made.”

“You are a mistake, Em,” Dee says, her voice sounding amused suddenly.

“I am not,” I say through clenched teeth.

You are, my father thinks, the corners of his mouth turning up with amusement as he spies my frustration erupt.

Make right on what you’ve done to me, I say in my mind to my father. Tell Dee the truth. I want to hear the words come out of your mouth. I want to hear you tell her that I’m not a Defect.

He nods at once, a too pleasing look on his face. “Dee, your sister,” my father says and pauses, his mouth holding a semblance of a smile. “She isn’t well. You should really back up, go away and let me take it from here”

“But Father, I don’t want you to get hurt, let me help” Dee says.

You can’t do it? I think to him. You can’t acknowledge me for who I am?

You’re a mistake, Em. Yes, powerful, but that power was put behind the wrong mind.

“You mean one that can’t be controlled,” I say out loud, earning another speculative glance from Dee.

That’s exactly what I mean. In your current state, you’re worthless to me, my father thinks and then shakes his head, a look of discriminating repulsion on his smooth features. Actually, you’re not even worthless, you’re a pest. One I’ll ensure doesn’t ruin the work we’ve done for this great nation.

You’re as misguided as the sick President. Too bad he’s about to go down in a sheet of flames.

Dee steps forward, interrupting the conversation she has no idea is going on without her. Her hands are pinned on her narrow hips. “Father has been kind enough to offer you the solution of being converted to a Middling, since your Defect status is completely unacceptable. And if you don’t take his solution willingly then I’m happy to offer you the encouragement you need.” She steps a foot in front of our father, gives a sideways smirk at him, and then holds up her hand, pointing it straight at my heart. Immediate terror surges up my spine. My eyes widen with disbelief. Dee has never shot fire at me directly, rather to the side or at my clothes. And she’s never looked more resolute than she does right now.

“Dee…” our father says, a warning in his voice. “Step away from Em.”

“Don’t worry, Father,” she says, a confident smirk on the corner of her mouth. “I’ve got this.”

I hold up my hands in an act of surrender. Shake my head erratically. Give her every nonverbal cue that I’m her prisoner. Make her think I’m weak to her. “Are you saying that you’d shoot fire at me, potentially killing me if I don’t do what you say?”

She nods, looking too pleased. “That’s exactly right.”

“Dee…” my father says, a nervous edge to his voice. “Stop. Get away from Em.”

My head is battling between antagonizing Dee, pushing her because I finally can, and also preserving us both. It’s an issue of conscience and I’m sad to say, the evil part is winning. “I’m not sure I’d listen to Father,” I say, daring to take a step in her direction. “I think I need you to teach me a lesson and then cart me away. I’m dangerous. I’m a mistake,” I say, my eyes finding my father’s, which are narrowed with disgust.

Don’t do this, Em. She’s going to get hurt, my father thinks.

That’s sweet that you care. Didn’t think you had the capacity.

My sister, getting brazen, enjoying the power as she always has, steps forward. “Come with me, Em. Follow me to the labs, so you can be converted. So you won’t be a danger to yourself any longer.”

“Sure thing,” I say, stepping forward, separating us by three short feet. “But before that I need to know one thing.” I stop and fix my eyes on only my sister. I’ve known her all my life, and also she’s a complete stranger to me. As foreign as a stranger on the streets. And more fathomless is that I totally don’t understand the person I shared a room with for the past seventeen years. “Why is it, Dee,” I begin, “that you’ve betrayed Nona and me at every step when we should be bonded? Why have you punished your sisters with your gift when you knew we were suffering? I was a Defect with lesser advantages and you abused me because of that when you should have protected me. Why? Why betray your own family?”

“Because,” she says, her voice carrying strength with it, “Father taught me that power comes from taking advantage of those with less. From gaining the upper hand when others fall.”

I smirk at her. “That only works for a little while, and then you trip and find yourself at a disadvantage.”

“Funny, because I believe you’re the one alone in an alley, fighting against two powerful Reverians,” Dee says, her pointy chin rising in the air with a calm superiority.

My scruples are still battling each other. And now suddenly the potential of fighting my sister in a darkened alleyway is a stone in my chest. I could turn and run, but not fast enough to avoid her attack.

My eyes flick to my father’s. He looks like he wants me to die right now, no emotion, only a cold hostile burning.

I won’t go to the labs, I think, a firm tone to my thoughts. Tell Dee to step down and let me go because I don’t want to hurt her.

And there’s another flaw in you, Em. A contemptuous glare tightens his mouth. You don’t think. You purely feel. And even though you have great powers, you’re too soft to actually use them. You are a threat only to yourself.

“Let her have it, Dee,” my father says out loud. “Take your sister down.”

And as I hear his cold, calloused words I leech the power from Dee and throw it back at my father, faster than my sister can act. From the palm of my hand, not sharp like electricity, but full and flowing, comes fire, my sister’s gift of pyrokinesis. It shoots out with an angry rush and claps onto my father’s shoulders. Singeing, burning, and erupting him into a mass of flames. First his shoulders and then his blond hair light up. A smell like burnt plastic hits my nostrils.

Dee’s startled expression rattles between my wide eyes and our father’s fiery form. In one movement she pushes him to the ground and tries to beat the flames from him. I step back and watch, unable to turn away. With another step back, I take in the scene of fire wrapping around my father’s head. His screams are a rough assault to my ears. And then I run, back into the shadows and away from the catastrophe that I’m responsible for.

Chapter Twenty-Six

As a child, when I was afraid or my nerves mounted so high I thought they’d make me explode, I’d hide in my closet. The small space cloaked me, making me feel safe. The darkness comforted me like a cape, shielding me from judging eyes. I don’t have a closet of my own anymore. And although I’m worried of risking getting Zack in trouble, I zigzag my way through the Valley until I arrive breathless at his back door. I don’t have anywhere else to go. The camp isn’t safe with Vider ready to hunt for us, and I’ll need to be here to rendezvous with Rogue anyway.

All I want is to throw myself into Rogue’s arms right now. However, it’s several hours from when we planned to meet. Nevertheless his arms are all that I think about as I race through the house, up the stairs, and straight into Zack’s bedroom. Like somewhere on the other side of the mirrored door resides my salvation, I fling open the closet and dart inside. I wrench the door shut, and the automatic light extinguishes at once, leaving me in darkness surrounded by dozens of perfectly pressed suits. The only light seeps through the crack along the door. My back finds the wall and I slide down between a rack of leather belts and a row of shiny loafers. I tuck my knees up to my chest and clap my hands to my cheeks, ready to catch my tears, but nothing comes. As I suspected the darkness is an instant comfort, numbing the horror of what I’ve done.

I’ve burned my father.

I gulp down a mouthful of bile.

How could I have done this? I’m not a murderer. That’s what they want me to believe. Maybe they’re making me into a monster. Maybe I really am one. I shot fire at my father, knowing what it would do. Knowing that burns can’t be erased. That fire kills. And I watched him burn and then I ran away. Like a coward. Again I gulp. I am a monster. I’m the goddess of death. A beast. I am what they named me. Morta. Death.

I’ve been staring into the black corner of the closet for at least half an hour when the front door slams shut. I bolt into a standing position. What have I done? I’ve backed myself into a corner where there’s nowhere to run. They’re coming for me. It will only take a quick search of the house and they’ll find me. Vider has probably sent an army of Middlings to capture me. And then he’ll have my memories erased using the modifier and convert me to a Middling by lobotomizing my dream traveling abilities.

Footsteps race up the stairs. They’re loud. Demanding my attention. Stripping me of my ability to focus. I need to get out of here, to find a window. To escape. But I remain frozen, my back firmly pressed into the wall behind me. The door handle to the closet clinks when a hand wraps around it. How did they know so quickly where to find me? Maybe someone saw me enter Zack’s house. Maybe I was followed. I sputter out a breath, ready to push through the people, ready to defend myself.

The door swings open, triggering the automatic light, like that of a refrigerator. Even though Zack’s face is crazed with worry I’ve never in my entire life been so relieved to see his blue eyes staring back at me. “Oh, Em,” Zack says, and then he rushes forward, wrapping his arms around me, yanking me to him, his movements coated in a frantic concern.

And now the tears I’d been waiting for burst to the surface, a torrent of uncontrollable sobs. They suck my breath away. The tears cause an intense ache in my chest as they pour out of my being. Unconcerned for his suit, like I normally am, I bury my face into Zack’s shoulder, drenching it within seconds with tear after tear after tear. He holds me in tight, his arms seeming to vibrate from his battered nerves. And through the tears and hyperventilated breaths, I stutter, “H-h-how did you know?”

“The news went straight to your father’s office. I rushed here as soon as I heard,” he says, his voice right beside my ear, arms pressing me firmly to him.

I push back, wiping my face with my sleeves. “How did you know to come here though? You ran straight to the closet.”

He regards me for a moment with a solemn stare. “I know you, Em. I know how you think.”

“How’d you know I’d hide in your closet?”

“I knew you’d go where you’re safe,” Zack says, allowing an ounce of pride to rise in his voice.

He’s the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. His brain vaults everything away and assimilates all his stored knowledge when necessary, employing flawless rationality as well. Desperately I want him to hold me again, but I know I shouldn’t ask. He already appears overburdened by this situation. Instead of leaning on him, I need to pretend I’m stronger in this moment. I wipe my hand across the place where my tears soaked his suit jacket. “I’m sorry, I messed up your suit.”

“Don’t be.” Zack eyes me quietly, an unspoken question in them.

No doubt he wants to know why I burned my father. Zack probably fears that he used to know me, but now he doesn’t. That I’ve turn into a monster. “I was stupid and not paying attention. I got myself caught. Before I realized what had happened they had me cornered in an alleyway,” I say in a frantic rush, my eyes darting between Zack and the floor. “Too many things were said. And then all of a sudden I’d lost control of the situation. I thought my father would only try and have me converted, but…” I stop, the image of my father engulfed in flames ripping through my mind, causing an instant ache in my core.

“What did he do?” Zack asks, his chin low, eyes hooded.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory. “He told Dee to attack me. His exact words were, ‘Take your sister down.’” I choke on the last of that sentence. A new batch of tears renders me speechless.

Zack’s eyes narrow with disdain. He presses his hand to his forehead, like his head is about to explode from sudden pressure. “She was going to do it, wasn’t she?” Disgust drips from his words.

I nod, unable to speak past the tears. My shaking hands shelter my face, throwing it back into safe darkness. And then to my surprise his arms enfold me again. “I’m so sorry, Em. I’m so sorry,” Zack says, his voice half a whisper. “I’m just so relieved you’re okay. And hopefully that demon will be punished.”

“What?” I say, stepping back, looking up at Zack. “Who?”

“Dee,” he says, shaking his head. He’s never called her that. He’s not one to name call. “She’s been taken into custody because of the incident.”

“Why?!”

“Well, because they think she did it,” he says, his voice returning to its normal even tone. “Dee is a pyrokinetic and she brought your father to the hospital badly burned. It didn’t look good for her. The officials assumed she’s responsible.”

“Oh…” I say, a strange new guilt piling on top of the one already suffocating me. I can’t stand Dee, but I don’t want her punished for something so despicable. For something I did. “She’ll explain what happened. Vider will know she’s telling the truth and exonerate her,” I say, each of my words stumbling over the last.

Zack’s eyes turn speculative, but he quickly covers it with a flat expression. “As of right now, Dee isn’t talking and your father is in intensive care and unconscious.”

“What do they say? Is he going to be all right?” I ask, fear and guilt scratching my skin, making invisible marks.

Zack jerks his head to the side, a bemused expression on his face. He shakes his head. “He tried to kill you and you’re worried about him? And you’re worried about Dee too, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t want to do it. I’m not a monster,” I say.

Zack nods. “I know that, Em. I knew as soon as I heard that you weren’t to blame.”

“Really?” I ask, my heart thumping like a hammer against my ribs. “Didn’t you think for a second I’d gone crazy?”

A grim smile runs across his face. “No,” he says flatly. “Not for a second.”

An ounce of the heavy weight on my chest flits away. To have Zack’s faith, when my own has wavered, is a true gift. “And you came to me,” I say in grateful astonishment. “You came here, rather than run to my father’s side, which you should have done.”

He chews on the corner of his lip.

“You’re going to be in trouble,” I say, a new worry invading my mind.

He shakes his head. “No I won’t.”

“I’m sorry I came here. I don’t want—”

He waves his hand. “It’s fine. No one knows you were involved. No one is looking for you. And when Nona comes here later it will look more natural, it will look like she’s relaying updates about your father.”

“But, my father… You should be at the hospital.”

“He’s in surgery and can’t be seen. Don’t worry. Where I need to be is with you, that’s why I’m here.”

I give a slow nod. “Thanks,” I say to the carpet.

I burned my father. From my hand I shot fire at his shoulders. Again and again I replay it, trying to figure out how I could have done things differently. I’d antagonized Dee. Pushed her. But I’d also changed my mind and asked my father to make her step down. And he called me weak. Gave the command.

Something tugs on my arm. I shake my foggy eyes and peer down to see Zack’s fingers pinching my sleeve. Again he tugs at it. It’s a gesture we’ve been doing back and forth to each other for over a decade. It’s how we ask for the other person’s attention when they’re lost. “Come sit down with me,” he says, motioning to the bedroom.

I shake my head roughly. “No,” I say, my voice sounding fragile, like that of a scared child.

“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. Then he takes a seat on the ground, pulling me down to join him. We sit side-by-side. Shoulder to shoulder. In front of us are two rows of his shoes, one in front of the other on risers. I run my eyes over the fine stitching around the soles and the polished leather. Why couldn’t I have been born the Middling who makes these shoes, rather than a monster?

We’re sitting for less than a minute when the weight of my head feels too heavy and I allow it to drift over and lie on his shoulder. “Thanks, Zack,” I say, running my eyes over the intricate details of each of his shoes. “I thought you were someone Vider had sent to take me away.”

“I know. I saw that look of fear on your face when I opened the door,” he says.

“I’m sure I looked deathly afraid.”

“I’m glad this is where you came. You’re safe here.”

“But I’m not,” I say. “Won’t this be the first place that Dee or Vider looks?”

“No,” Zack says, and I feel him shake his head at the same time. “Em, I’ve been strategic in creating the illusion of my loyalty, and in doing so I’ve made myself look distanced from the friendship you and I had. They think I can’t stand you, that I’m repulsed by your rebellion.”

I flip my head up and catch a look of shame on Zack’s face. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” I say, and fail to bring a joking smile to my face.

“I figured the best way to protect you was to pretend that I hated you,” he says.

“And you’re such a good actor, so I’m sure everyone buys it. I think from hearing Dee’s thoughts this morning that she’s convinced.”

He shivers, one that reeks of revulsion. His nostrils flare once as he presses his eyelids firmly together.

“Zack, what is it?”

“I don’t know how I’ll stomach her after this,” he says, biting on each of the words. “It was hard enough before.”

“Then don’t. Your personal happiness isn’t worth the gains,” I say.
He shakes his head and hangs it low with defeat. “More so than ever I think I’ll need to stay close to her after this. I sense she’s dangerous and not only to you. She’ll be on a war path. And I need the advantages I’ll earn from your father and President Vider by aligning myself with her.”

“Zack, you don’t ha—”

“I do though,” he says, pulling his eyes up to meet mine. “It’s my choice and it’s a smart move. It gives me the opportunity to have an advantage and also to protect you.”

“Don’t do it for that reason. You shouldn’t have to make that sacrifice to protect me.”

“Em, you’re leading this rebellion. You need to be protected,” Zack says, all emotion stripped from his voice.

“We’re leading this rebellion,” I correct.

He nods in agreement, but there’s no conviction to it.

“How you fake it in front of Dee is a marvel,” I say, my voice carrying more of a lightness to it. Zack’s managed to make me feel not so brittle merely by being here, staring at his closet of clothes with me. “I have no idea how you do it. She infuriated me today.”

“She’s intolerable for sure, but I’ve learned how to master my emotions,” he says.

“An important characteristic for a politician,” I say, patting his arm.

And then the door downstairs slams for the second time today. However, it’s not followed by racing steps, but rather the sound of his frantic voice. “Em?! Em, are you here?!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I whip into a standing position and race out of Zack’s room, down the stairs, two at a time. I’m swinging around the banister when Rogue rushes to me, catching me in his arms. And as I suspected, his arms erase the pain pooling in my heart. In his strong embrace I find the recipe to hope and relief. All that was plaguing my heart is forgotten as I bury my chin into his shoulder and breathe him in. The smell of oak and campfire and Rogue.

He sets me down properly on my toes and grips the side of my face, looking me over with an earnest concern. “Are you all right?” Rogue’s green eyes stare into mine and I find the answer isn’t in a word, but rather at the tip of my lips. I press my mouth to his, needing to feel him close. He kisses me back, pushing against my lips with a gentle pressure. Finally, I peel away and look up at him.

“How did you know something happened?” I ask, careful not to allow much distance between us.

He slides his hands through his hair, but it rebelliously falls back onto his forehead. “I saw it in a vision,” he says, looking away at once.

“You had another headache? When? Just now?” Every time he has a headache, afterwards he’s granted a skill briefly and each time it’s something different. Sometimes he’s telepathic for a minute. Sometimes he’s clairvoyant. Sometimes he’s simply fatigued.

He nods. “Earlier. I rushed through the Valley trying to find you.”

I step up on my tiptoes. Slide the back of my hand across his stubbled cheek. “Are you okay?”

He reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth. Kisses it once and nods. “Yes, I’m fine. But I knew I shouldn’t have let you go this morning,” he says, his words weighted with regret.

“Rogue, there was no way to know who I would encounter.”

“I knew though,” he says, a strict edge to his voice. “I’d seen it, but I ignored it.”

“What? But you said you just had the headache, that you just had the premonition.”

“Yes, and I sometimes have repeats. I’d seen the image of you burning your father a week ago, but I thought maybe it was wrong or it would change. Premonitions often shift or don’t happen at all. The future is pliable.”

“So that’s why you told me this morning to protect myself if the need arose?”

“Em, I know you don’t want me running around protecting you, but damn it, I didn’t want to let you leave.” He stands back and looks me over. “Are you really all right?”

“I’m fine, better now, thanks to Zack.” And as if on cue Zack trudges down the staircase.

“Oh, thank the gods for you, brother,” Rogue says, clapping Zack on the back and pulling him in for a hug when he’s down the stairs.

Zack smiles at me over Rogue’s shoulder, returning the slap on Rogue’s back. “I’m happy that I could get here when I did.”

“How did you know she’d come here?” Rogue asks like I’m not standing right here. He has a curious interest on his face.

“I didn’t have a premonition about it,” he says with a forced smile. “I just guessed.” Then he turns and strides down the hallway away from us.

“Rogue?” I say, gaining his attention at once.

He runs his hands through his overworked hair and gives me a sideways look. It’s in response to the skeptical glare I’m giving him. “What?” Rogue asks.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

He grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room. With an unusually serious focus in his eyes, he points at the sofa, indicating where he wants me to sit.

I plant my hands on my hips and face him, a mini standoff.

Rogue sighs and a hint of smile flicks to his mouth. “Oh, would you sit so I can explain already?”

I search him, making note of his tensed shoulders and pinched mouth. There’s not only something he wants to tell me, but also something he’s hiding. However, I’ve always appreciated that enigmatic part of Rogue. It’s one of the reasons I don’t want to know all his secrets. He always surprises me and most of the time in the best ways. “Fine,” I acquiesce. I plop down on the couch and regard Rogue with a new curiosity. He isn’t the confrontational type. He’s the type to change the subject and find something random to laugh about.

Instead of taking the seat next to me, he bends down. His knee pops when he squats, but he doesn’t pay it a bit of attention, instead he leans forward and captures both my hands. If he didn’t have my attention before he does now.

“Em, do you remember how I saw a glimpse of what was going to happen in the labs?” Rogue asks.

“I remember that you wouldn’t tell me, and made me figure it out on my own,” I say, pulling my hands from his grasp and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Well, there’s a good reason I didn’t tell you about the labs.”

“Is it the same reason you didn’t tell me about burning my father?”

He nods. “The very same.”

I try to give him a scrutinizing look, but I fear it looks more like I’m suppressing a silly grin. “Okay, come off with it. Why are you keeping these premonitions secret?”

“Because knowing the future is a curse, Em,” he says, his eyes falling down to his bent knee. “It usually causes me to feel debilitated because I don’t want that reality to happen, but the irony is that the avoidance usually creates it. I don’t want you to live like that. Knowing the future is a burden. If I told you that you’d run into your father today then you’d go to great lengths to avoid him and that would probably cause you to run straight into him.”

A new weight hits my chest. Rogue’s concern for me is beautiful and also makes me feel fragile, like acting freely could somehow harm him—a thing I’d never do. “You don’t know that though,” I finally say, after deliberating on the idea. “Maybe if you would have told me I would have stayed at the camp. Maybe I wouldn’t have ever run into him.”

He shakes his head and brings heavy eyes up to meet mine. “There’s no way to know that and I’m guessing you’re wrong. I’m telling you this because since I’ve gotten the premonitions after the headaches I’ve tried to avoid futures, but it rarely happens. Fate has a way of finding us even when we hide.”

I should have guessed that Rogue did this to save me. To help me. I trace my eyes over his broad shoulders, his arms and elbows resting on his knees. “Come sit, would you?”

“This is my ‘I’m trying to convince Em’ stance. Am I done? Are you all convinced?” Rogue says, a smile I needed to see grazing his face.

I yank him forward. “Get over here.”

He takes the place beside me and instantly I’m curled at his side. After several seconds of silence he says, “Tell me what happened.”

I flip my head up and dare to smile. The first one since everything happened. “You already know, Mr. Visions-of-the-Future.”

“I prefer ‘Captain,’” he says, clapping a hand on the one I have resting on his leg.

“When have you been on a ship?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you that story yet?”

“Rogue,” I warn, with a smile in my voice.

“Okay, ‘Mister’ is fine, but tell me what happened. All I saw was when you leeched Dee and shot fire at your father.”

I slide down low, suddenly needing to bury my head in the closet again. “What else is there to know? I can’t believe you saw that and even want to sit beside me right now.”

Rogue sits up suddenly, bumping me off his lap. But then he grabs my forearm and pulls it into him. “What? You think I’d see that and feel something negative about you?”

I stare into his eyes and almost can’t hold his pensive gaze. Finally I shrug weakly.

“Em, you’re ridiculous. I’m not sure what ideas you’ve concocted in your beautiful crazy brain, but there’s nothing wrong with what you did. Everything you do, everything I see you do in person or in a premonition, makes me love you more.”

“But what have I done to my own father?”

“Nothing worse than he ever did to you. And that’s not to mean you even did it as retribution, but only that you were defending yourself.”

“But it was Dee attacking me.”

“I saw the part before you attacked him,” Rogue says, pulling me in close to him again, not satisfied with any distance between us. “I know he ordered her to kill you.”

My head slings down until my chin rests on my chest. Being at war with my family is by far the worst. Finally I look at him. “Rogue, Dee is dangerous. There was something wrong in her. Something worse than usual. Like she has a plan, and wants to use it to her own advantage. She’s going to use Zack. That’s what I fear.”

Rogue shakes his head, gripping my hand with a tenacious spirit. “You can’t allow that. You have to stop her.”

“Me? Why me? How would I do that?”

“Well, we have to protect him. That’s what I meant to say,” Rogue says, running his fingers over mine.

I fear that’s not what he meant to say, but I stay pinned on his mouth and his next words anyway. “Zack is playing a strategic game, and more than anything we need to make sure that he’s careful,” Rogue says. “I think he believes he needs her to play this game, but I fear he’s wrong. Dee isn’t the key to his success nor the key to the success of this rebellion.”

“Then what is?”

A smile turns his lips up. Again I’m gifted with the view of his too-straight top teeth and his perfectly crooked bottom teeth. “Who, is what you mean.”

“Rogue,” I say, a sturdy warning in my voice. “Did you learn something about this from a premonition? What do you know?”

He slides in closer to me, urging my head over so it lies on his shoulder. “Nothing, babe. Nothing of importance. Just stupid details. And my instinct, not a premonition, tells me that Dee isn’t worth the trouble. She’s a loose wire, and has proven that today.”

“He thinks she can help him gain favor with my father, which will give him advantages he can use in the rebellion.”

Rogue blows out a long breath through his mouth. “Well, I think Zack does need someone to help him find his footing in this rebellion.”

“Like Ren or Parker or Nona?” I ask, my voice mostly speaking into his chest.

“Yes, exactly,” Rogue says, a new enthusiasm in his voice. “Like an ally.”

“Hmmm,” I say, enjoying Rogue’s warmth, sucking it in as I speak. “I thought we were his allies.”

“We are, but right now he’s not involved enough. He needs a stronger role in this rebellion. One that puts him in a position of power.”

I flip my head up and offer him a skeptical glare. “These don’t sound like stupid details. Tell me what else you know.”

He shifts his eyes so he’s looking down at me. Puckers his mouth. “What I know is that Dee can’t be a part of his future. She’s too lethal for him and our cause, and there aren’t enough benefits to his involvement with her.”

“Then why don’t you tell him that?”

Rogue squeezes me into him. “Sometimes you can’t tell people things because you know they won’t hear you.”

“So what do you do?”

“Plant seeds.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Eating isn’t really something I’m doing much of lately. Nevertheless I manage to robotically chew up some crackers and wash them down with a glass of water. And I only forced down that food after Rogue berated me for the better part of an hour.

“Happy?” I say, shoving the crackers back across the granite countertop.

“Incredibly so, but it has nothing to do with you finally eating, and everything to do with just you,” Rogue says, with a wink.

With my palms planted on the countertop behind me, I pull myself up backwards and sit. The entire time my eyes stay pinned on Rogue. “So does that mean you’ll do anything to keep me happy?”

He angles his chin down and regards me under hooded eyes. “I won’t see Dr. Parker, but just about anything else.”

“He knows why you get the headaches though,” I say, extending a hand out to Rogue.

Without needing further encouragement he takes the three steps that divide us and grabs my hand, directing it around his shoulder. “Because the injections I received were taken from newborns? Too potent of a formula?”

My mouth drops. “How’d you know that?”

“Good guess.”

Sometimes Rogue is mysterious in his brilliance, suspiciously so. I wrap my feet around his legs, encouraging him closer. “I’m going to keep my word and not argue with you about the headaches and Parker, but please note that he has been researching it and might be able to find a solution.”

“I’m sure he thinks so,” Rogue says, daring to flaunt a sideways smile at me. He glides his hands around my waist and pulls me an inch further, closer to him.

“You know what I miss?” I ask, watching his studious eyes appraise me.

“What’s that?”

“Your house. Athena and Poseidon. And of course, my goat, Jasmine.”

“Our house,” Rogue corrects, his breath warm against my skin. My eyes, which had been studying his neck, slide up to meet his.

“No, Rogue,” I protest. “You built that house. That farm. I’m merely a useless farmhand.”

“Our house,” he repeats, pushing in closer to me. “Yours and mine.”

I minutely shake my head.

“We live there together, don’t we?” Rogue’s so close, I can see the individual whiskers on his chin and that’s where my eyes focus right now.

I’m forced to nod my head to his question.

“Well, then it’s settled,” he says, a triumphant smile stretching his mouth wide.

With my hands tucked behind his neck, I encourage him down. He slides his nose against mine and then his lips across my mouth. With a greedy laugh I wrap my legs more firmly around his jeans. I lean back, bringing Rogue with me, until my head finds the cabinet. One of his strong hands pins my back, keeping me protected from the various kitchen appliances. The other one tangles into my hair at the base of my neck, pulling me into him as he kisses me harder. We’re running out of space on the narrow countertop, but I’m only half aware of it and definitely not concerned enough to stop. And then from my peripheral I catch the kitchen door swing open. The sound of footsteps halts swiftly.

Rogue straightens before I do, pulling me to a proper sitting position as he does. He spins to face Zack, putting his back to me. Zack is in the process of turning around, his eyes low, when Rogue says, “Hey, brother. Don’t go.”

“No problem,” Zack says, holding the door open. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Rogue says, that cool confidence always in his tone. He seems to be trying to relax Zack, who’s obviously uncomfortable by walking in just now. I don’t blame him. My cheeks are red with embarrassment, but thankfully I’m hiding my face behind Rogue.

“What you got there?” Rogue asks, pointing at the object in Zack’s hand by his side.

“Em’s book,” he says, tossing it on the countertop.

“Oh, that’s right,” I say, finding my voice. I push Rogue to the side and slide off the counter. I’m anxious to actually read through the Metamorphoses book and find out why my sisters and I are named after the Parcae. I’d also love to know why Ren thinks it’s so entertaining. “Thank you,” I add, scooping the leather-bound book into my hand. “I’m sorry that you had to cover for me to Dee. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Anytime,” Zack says, almost defeated. Maybe he’s just tired. I wish he’d stop protecting me. He’s been trying to do it all our lives and never can I remember returning the favor. I’m starting to feel indebted to him without any way to pay up.

“Have you eaten recently?” Rogue asks Zack.

“When did you turn into a mother hen?” I ask, turning and giving him a playful grin.

“It’s my job to take care of you two, otherwise I fear you’d both waste away.” He grabs the package of crackers off the countertop and throws them at Zack, who catches them looking half surprised. “I think I’m the only one amongst us governed by my stomach.”

“Thanks,” Zack says, holding up the sleeve of crackers and taking one.

“Well, they are your crackers, so thank you. By the way, man, you really need some food in your fridge,” Rogue says.

“Yeah,” Zack says, eyeing the cracker and then dropping it back into the package. “But I refuse to hire a Middling, which puts me at a serious disadvantage since I can’t cook.”

I peel open Metamorphoses and begin to leaf through, enjoying the easy conversation between Rogue and Zack. For me it’s like the sound of nature, calming. A securing sound that fills me with a homey warmth. There aren’t two guys I love more than the ones in this room right now. And I’m certain there can’t be better ones out in the world. They’re individually perfect. Again and again I’m struck with how surreal it is to be back with Zack after being separated. And to be in Zack’s house with Rogue is infinitely more bizarre. Zack has a house. And Rogue is alive, not dead. In only three months everything in my life has turned inside out, flipped upside down, and enlarged. It’s becoming increasingly strange to be back in Austin Valley, and then also to look over and see Rogue’s always present smile. All my realities are mixing into one and if my life wasn’t so chaotic, I’d actually be enjoying this.

I thumb through too many pages that don’t pertain to the Parcae. And then a flash of a neon green note catches my attention. A bookmark of sorts. On it is tight, compact handwriting. Ren’s, I’m guessing. He has the note sitting right under a paragraph referencing the Parcae. I catch the word at once and scan the paragraph, but without context it doesn’t mean much to me. Finally, I read Ren’s note, which is disorganized, with things scratched out and random scribblings. But at the bottom is a sentence that grabs my attention. Makes my breath still. Freezes my movement. Even Zack, who stands nearby, pauses and regards me with concern.

“What is it, Em?”

I don’t answer; instead I run my eyes over and over the words Ren wrote.

Even the gods feared the Parcae.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

For the next hour we discuss what Ren’s words could mean. None of us are willing to take them literally, especially since he’s non-Reverian. All my life I’ve been taught that the gods created humans. They gifted Dream Travelers with their gifts and bestowed the responsibility upon us to protect Middlings. They have the power to take and give and punish. Engrained in me is the belief that nothing and no one is more powerful than the gods. And therefore, it’s ludicrous to believe the gods would fear three teenage girls.

“Well, Ren is simply noting that the gods feared the Parcae in the book, right?” Zack says, like he’s pieced something together in his head.

“Yes,” I say, my forehead wrinkling as I try to follow his reasoning.

“And you three were somehow named after the three sisters who make up the Parcae?” he asks.

“Right,” I say, slowly, deliberately.

His eyes look without seeing, that contemplative expression all too present on his face.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, curious to know what the wheels in his head are spinning about.

“I’m thinking that people are named after people, things, and places all the time, but it rarely impacts the person’s life. It’s only a name, after all.”

Rogue coughs discreetly, bringing both mine and Zack’s attention to him. “Gonna have to play devil’s advocate here.”

“What kind of advocate?” Zack asks, looking intrigued and confused.

“It’s the antithesis of god,” I say, having brushed up a little on my world religion over the last three months. All literature on other religions is strictly forbidden in Austin Valley, although I’d picked up a few things about Christian holidays over the years from the Middlings I worked beside in the field.

“Oh,” Zack says, scratching his head. “Devil. Good to know. Yeah, you’re going to be his advocate, Rogue. Go ahead.”

Rogue smiles at me before looking at Zack. “Do you know what my name means?”

“I don’t think I do,” Zack says.

“My father named me, and it means I’m trouble,” he says, a mischievous glint of pride in his eyes.

“Hmmm,” Zack muses.

“Is it coincidence that I was the first Defect and now a Rebel?” Rogue asks, looking earnestly interested in Zack’s reaction.

“That is something strange to consider,” he says, his eyes clouding with thought suddenly. “So the question is were you named that and therefore given this fate or was it your fate and therefore that name found you?”

“Exactly,” Rogue says, triumphantly. “It’s the chicken or the egg conundrum.”

“The what?” Zack asks, his face turning confused again.

Rogue waves him off. “Never mind. My point is that we shouldn’t too quickly discount the importance of Em, Nona, and Dee’s namesakes.”

“I think you’re right,” Zack says and then turns his attention on me. “What else does it say in there about the Parcae?” he asks, pointing to the book clutched in my hands.

I pop it back open and flip through the pages, hoping to find another one of Ren’s notes. “I don’t know. There’s a lot and most of it isn’t relevant to the Parcae. I’ll have to actually sit down and read it to make any sense of this.”

“We know what your name means, but what we need to learn is what Dee and Nona’s represents,” Zack says.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, still flipping, trying to locate a clue.

None of us heard the front door close, which is why we all three jump when my unassuming, brilliant sister, Nona, slides through the door. She stands in the kitchen with us like she’s been there all along.

“Nona!” I say too loud and slide off the countertop I had been claiming as my seat.

In seconds my arms bind around her with a fervent need. She only allows this for a minute before encouraging me back. She looks me over and then gives me a speculative glance. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Guilt and shame both race to my eyes, bringing my head down from their weight.

“No, you don’t,” I hear Rogue behind me. He was stationed on the countertop beside me and pulls me back in his direction. “Nona was only asking a question, there’s no rude conviction in it, right, Nona?”

“None at all,” my sister says and she grabs my hand, giving me a sweet apologetic look. “Sorry if it came off that way. I’m sure you’re battling all sorts of emotions right now.”

“Who’s battling stuff right now is probably poor Zack,” Rogue says, a lightness I need in his voice. “He’s probably wondering why no one rings his damn doorbell.”

I flip my head up and catch a brilliant smile light up Zack’s mouth and eyes. “I wouldn’t expect any of you to knock. Nor should you.”

“Next time,” I say with a promise in my voice to Zack.

“If I had keys, you’d have one,” he says, and the smile leaves his face. Disappears.

And then at my side Nona beckons my attention by poking me in the ribs, a gesture that usually would earn her a swift punch, but I’m not up for it now. “Tell me what happened, Em.”

I shrug. It’s the wrong gesture for this moment, but that’s what I do. “I was cornered. Berated. Threatened. And then I defended myself against our father. I’m sorry, Nona.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nona says, shaking her head at me. “He’s the most despicable person I’ve ever known. I just wanted an update.”

“Well, now it’s your turn to return the favor,” I say. “Were you at the hospital before this? How’d you get away to see us?”

She nods. “I volunteered to leave so I could communicate an update to worried staff members.”

I flick my eyes up to Zack’s. That’s what he had said. Sometimes I think he and Nona share the same brain. They’re both so strategic.

“Dee and Mother are in such a fit they didn’t even notice me leave. Probably didn’t notice me there either,” she says with an edge to her voice.

“Is Dee talking?” I ask.

“Incoherently, but she keeps saying your name but nothing else.”

“And why have they let her so close?” Zack asks.

“She’s handcuffed, but allowed to be there. It’s half the reason Mother is in tears.”

“And Father?”

“He’ll pull through, they say, but have scars. A lot of them,” Nona says.

“I’m guessing he’ll pardon Dee for the crime,” Zack says, bitterness in each word. “He can’t give away that you’ve returned or that you’re a leech. But he can’t let it go unpunished. It will be covered up.”

“One day that witch has to go down though,” Nona says, pushing her unmanageable curls away from her face.

I nod in agreement. “But right now, we have to get our plans together. Vider is on to us, and that’s why Rogue and I called this early meeting. We have to implement the plan tonight.”

“What?! No, we’re not ready!” It’s Nona who voices the first complaint.

Zack’s eyes project the same concern.

I shake them off. “We ran into Vider last night and after today if he doesn’t turn himself in,” I say, motioning to Rogue, “then innocent children will pay the price.”

Zack’s expression now takes on a sinister tragedy. I swear I could tell the stories of the world in the expressions he gives me, which change minute by minute. “No,” he says with defeat.

“And even if we allow that to happen, we’ll have to leave because he’s sending out a search party to get us.” I shrug again. Such a weak, worthless gesture and also all I can manage right now. “It’s now or never. We need to take down their arsenal.”

“And you have the locations of the formulas from Dr. Parker?” Zack asks, his voice high with nerves.

“Yes, and a keycard to get us in there.”

“How about you, Nona?” Zack asks, going straight into strategic mode. “Are you ready enough?”

“Well, I have one explosive that will work for a large supply, but other than that I’m useless. And I haven’t been able to locate the areas dedicated for the Middling withdrawals.”

“That’s fine,” I say, waving her off. “We don’t need to worry about the Middling withdrawals yet. And I can take care of destroying the other units of cerevitium.”

Zack gives me a curious expression.

“You forget how electricity can create damage,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

“No,” he says, with a wry smile. “I simply forget you have that power.”

“Anyway,” I say, “we don’t need to take down both the formula supply and withdrawal area at once. The first should be enough for now. It will put a halt to all the suppression of Defects they’re drugging every day. Or at least create a huge wrench in their plans. Hopefully, they’ll be stalled long enough for some Reverians to gain their long suppressed gifts.”

“I’m hoping to be one of them,” Nona says, with a hopeful sigh.

“Me too,” I say, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her head down on my shoulder.

“Why don’t you stay with us, Nona,” Rogue suggests. “Then no matter what you’ll get your gift in a day or two. We’ll be traveling back to the farm after this, to escape any revenge on my father’s part. You can go back with us if you’re ready.”

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” I say, turning to Nona, giving her a begging look.

She doesn’t appear convinced, though, and it sends disappointment to my stomach, making it instantly cramp. “I don’t know if I’m ready. It’s difficult to think about leaving here.”

I remember feeling that way. I remember facing a door that once I walked through I could never cross again. I’m here in the Valley now, but I’m not a Reverian anymore. I’ll never be one. I’m a fugitive. And making that decision was forced upon me. I don’t want that for Nona. I want her to walk through that door willingly, with a confidence that she doesn’t want to return as a member to this society. And the look in her eyes right now tells me she isn’t quite there.

“Well, you don’t have to leave yet. No one is suspicious of you and you’re not up for conversion,” I say, trying to sound rational, when I really only feel disappointment.

“I was planning on helping tonight though. I could leave with you afterwards. However, there may be more I can do here to help the rebellion if I stay,” Nona says, weighing on the decision. She grabs at her hair with a cute anxiousness. She seems tethered between the two options for a solid ten seconds, but then her eyes, the same crystal blue as mine, fix with a look of certainty. Her expression tells me firmly what she doesn’t say aloud.

“Stay, Nona. Things will shift dramatically after tonight and you should be here to help organize the Rebels,” I say in a matter-of-fact tone that feels all wrong. I’m used to speaking with emotion, with passion, but right now my words are mechanical. And I only wish that in this almost-perfect-paradise of dreams come true, I could have Nona with me, as well as Rogue. But at least I know she’ll be content and safe where she is. And Zack will be able to keep an eye on her here.

“Okay, that’s settled,” Rogue says, slapping his hands together. “Zack, what else do we need to do?” He looks at Zack with real interest in his face, like any order from Zack would change our plans instantly.

“I think we’re good. We need to go over the step-by-step plans more, but this sounds like something we can pull off.” He looks at me, a quiet regret in his eyes. “I only wish I could be there tonight.”

“No, you should be with Dee,” I say, my eyes flicking to Rogue, who gives me a strange look of disapproval. I instantly hate myself for making the suggestion. “I’m sorry, I know it’s the worst idea and the last thing you want to do, but it—”

“It’s the best idea,” Zack corrects. “If I’m with her, then I’ll be able to preserve my reputation when everything goes down. There’s no way they’ll be able to tie me to it. And the chances that President Vider will be in attendance will be high. I’ll do my best to keep his attention so that he doesn’t get word that things are going on elsewhere.”

I nod at him, pride marking my eyes. “Sounds like we’re set.”

“But what happens after this?” Nona voices the question I spied on Zack’s face.

“We watch,” Rogue answers. “We watch to see how my father responds. And hopefully we knock out their supply and they have a few hundred Defects on their hands who suddenly come into their gifts.”

“And then they will officially be Rebels,” Nona says.

“That’s where our next job will come in,” I say, enjoying feeling Nona so close after all these months. “We’ll need to swoop in and properly educate them. We’ll need to give them the full story. We’ll need to turn them into true Rebels.”

“More and more this is sounding like a plan that can work,” Nona says, a smile lighting up her freckled face.

“This is your plan, Nona,” I remind her.

“It was my idea, but you all made it happen.”

My eyes find Zack’s, which are already staring straight at me. “We work for each other, that’s why this works. We’re leading this rebellion together,” I say.

Chapter Thirty

Nona leaves to retrieve the explosives with the promise to meet us at the labs. Rogue and I both change into dark clothing, but don’t disguise our smell since Vider already knows we’re in the Valley. Zack changes too, trading the suit I wrinkled with my tears for a more casual button-down and slacks.

“I’m not going to tell you to be careful, because I know how much you hate it,” he says to me as we stand in his kitchen again.

“It’s nice that all these years of training you are finally starting to pay off,” I say, a ghost of a smile on my lips. I don’t want to leave Zack again. Leave him here in Austin Valley to play politics and risk his neck right under Vider’s nose. As with Nona, I want him to go with us, but I know he’s more valuable to the rebellion here. Seeing him so regularly the last few days has felt right, like the way the perfect pair of shoes supports my feet. But the beautiful thing about best friends is we can part and when we’re reunited no time will have passed between our hearts.

A bit reluctantly I hug Zack. It’s a brief embrace. His arms aren’t even around me when I step back and turn to face the door, studying the dark backyard like it matters at all. “Leave notes and we’ll reconvene on plans after tonight.”
I’m sure Zack nods, but I don’t look at him.

“All right, brother,” Rogue says, and I hear the tell-tale sign of one of their hugs. Hands slapping backs. “We’ll be back to invade your house in a few months, I’m sure.”

“Looking forward to it,” Zack says, but I don’t look at him. Right now I’m pretending the yard is full of monsters and my job is to keep watch on them. I’m pretending that leaving Zack again isn’t hard. I’m pretending that I’m not about to do something incredibly dangerous and possibly not survive to see him again.

With a casual sigh I open the door and trot down the steps, away from Zack, whose eyes I feel on my retreating back like a sunbeam.

***

Fifteen thousand. That’s how many little bottles of Defect-creating formula we have to destroy tonight. My chest rattles as I think about the overwhelming task. There’s roughly one to two hundred vials of cerevitium in each of the doctors’ offices. Two thousand in the labs where they produce the drug. And a storage area in the warehouse that has at least ten thousand. These are the ones we know about anyway. Parker wasn’t finished researching and his numbers are rough estimates. We were supposed to have more time to locate all the places cerevitium is stored. And tonight we were supposed to be better organized. However, we don’t have time for that anymore. Innocent lives won’t be harmed.

I happily leech Rogue’s speed, which allows me to move through the Valley swiftly and undetected. Usually I’m more reluctant to borrow his powers, but I know I’ll need to fill my reserves with his energy so that I can unleash that same power to destroy as many vials of poison as possible.

Nona waits in a shadow behind a Dumpster. I know to look for her there, which is the only reason I spot my sister neatly tucked between the concrete wall of the lab and the green metal trash bin. Although the sun set an hour ago, the overhead security lights would be an issue if she wasn’t such a masterful hider. Like us, she’s dressed in black. I wave for her to join us at a security entrance. It’s the one we ran out of the last time we broke into the labs. Now a card scanner sits beside a keypad of numbers. Thanks to our break-in they’ve upped the security measures for the labs. Wonder what they’ll do after tonight. Probably a retina scanner.

“Hi,” I say to Nona as she arrives with a swift halt beside Rogue. I’m too focused on keying in the right code to give her a straight-on glance. Each press of a button is followed by an annoying beep. The card makes the system zing with delight when I scan it. Then the door clicks once, unlocking. The metal handle is cold under my fingers. Without making a noise I push it down and slip the door back, revealing a long corridor lit by low security lights.

My stomach rumbles with apprehension. The last time I laid eyes on this hallway a guy died. Someone I killed. Maurice. A seemingly innocent boy, under Vider’s control. If I can help it then no one will die tonight.

Rogue ever so gently urges me back as he takes the lead position. I know he only wants to be the first to meet any danger. In a flash he’s gone and then reappears. My eyes didn’t see exactly what the mass of blurs did, but my mind knows that he sprinted ahead to check.

“All’s clear,” he says, his voice relieved, but his forehead is still creased from worry.

“Uhhh,” Nona stutters. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I nod at her and then prod Rogue forward, encouraging him to lead us to the warehouse.

Each of my steps causes me to question the way I walk. My shoes make note of my paces, whereas Nona and Rogue move silently, without a noise to trace their path. Ahead of us the hallway Ts. Tonight we’ll take both hallways, one that leads to the warehouses and the other that leads to the doctors’ offices and synthesizing labs. Behind Rogue I make a cautious left, heading to the warehouses first. We need to take care of the stored cerevitium first in case our mission tonight is cut short or we’re caught. My throat doesn’t catch at the idea. Surprisingly, I’m accepting of all the possible fates. I have to be able to operate and think clearly. It’s like this rebellion is turning me into a calculating soldier. I’m not sure I like that, but I need to become whatever will help me to protect the Rebels.

The door to the warehouse is an unassuming double push door. Somehow I think it should look more menacing, since behind those doors is a poison that destroys lives. And who knows what other lethal drugs are stored in the warehouse. Knowing Vider a vaccine for cancer and a drug that could wipe out an entire population could be sitting in side-by-side crates. Thanks to Parker we know the exact location and markings of the crates we have to destroy. And thanks to Nona, we have an explosive which shouldn’t cause too much collateral damage to the surrounding area.

Rogue turns at the door and holds up a hand to us. We both halt and wait while he enters the warehouse using his cheetah moves. I don’t even have time to suck in a full breath before he’s back, relief written on his face. We don’t say a word; instead, our eyes communicate the message. I tug on Nona, who really didn’t need the encouragement to move forward through the doors of the warehouse.

Artificial cold wraps around me at once. It’s at least ten degrees colder in this cement-floored and metal-walled space. Now my footsteps echo through the warehouse, which is large enough to house a couple of airplanes. I only know this because I ran through this warehouse a few months ago. Got lost in it.

Crates stacked three high and three in a row obstruct my view now. Since I have the map memorized, I don’t need to consult it. Instead, I take off to the right back corner, my path to the cerevitium planned. I should have expected the tug. With a frustrated growl I whip around to face Rogue, who’s already shaking his head. He doesn’t say a word, but instead, guides me behind him as he takes the front position.

“You don’t know where you’re going,” I say in a tight whisper.

“That’s why you’re going to tell me.”

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes at him to Nona, who looks too serious. Her soft features appear older in the dim lighting of the warehouse. “After two rows, take a left.”

He nods and takes off at a steady pace. It’s at exactly the second row, when we turn into the maze of crates, that I feel it. The energy of a Dream Traveler. Not Rogue’s. A different one. And then the door we came through shuts with a gentle click, followed by footsteps.

Chapter Thirty-One

I wheel around and grab Nona’s hand, pulling her flush against the crate. Rogue is frozen beside me, his arm across my body, ensuring I don’t move either. Footsteps, heavy like the wearer has on combat boots, echo across the cement floor. Not fast, but rather as if strolling. I press my ear to the crate. Two sets of footsteps.

“I say when we’re done here, you give me another chance to take your money,” a young male says.

“Sure thing, but we better put a cap on it. Otherwise, Travis, your wife will kill ya when you show back up broke ’n’ all.”

“No. That’s not how our arrangement works. And I’m not giving up until I master Texas Hold’em. It’s a clever game. One I had no idea about until you turned me on to it.”

Their footsteps patter down the opposite side of the warehouse, their voices growing faint as they move farther away. Rogue grabs my hand and pulls me forward, but I jerk back away from him.

“We need to move,” he whispers, his eyes wide.

“Hold on,” I mouth. And even though I know it’s crazy to sit while these two, who are probably patrolling security guards, prowl, I also know I have to. I tilt my head down low, gathering focus so I can send my feelers out. Like I’ve grown an extra body part, suddenly a new energy and ability draws into me. It’s isn’t Rogue’s. I know his power like I know my own. This one is foreign, although I don’t know what kind of skill it brings with it. There’s another thing of importance about this power I’ve just leeched. Since there’s two men, I expected at least two powers, but that’s not what I feel. There’s only one.

I pop open my eyes. “One of the guards is a Dream Traveler.”

He nods and waits, sensing I have more to say. I do.

“The other…he’s a Middling.” I sense Middlings because I can’t draw upon their power. Of course, the thought occurs to me that he could be a Defect, but Vider would never employ people like us.

Rogue stiffens, and the look in his eyes carries a truckload of defeat. His father must have suspected we’d hit the labs again and partnered the guards together so that I couldn’t easily defeat them. Dream Travelers have a serious disadvantage against me, but I’m powerless against Middlings.

“What’s his power?” Nona says in less than a whisper.

I shrug. “I don’t know yet.”

Rogue’s hand, warm and encompassing, wraps around mine. He leads us through the maze of the crates, staying to the perimeter of the warehouse. When he’s about to take another right turn, I urge him away from that path. He turns, his eyebrows knitting with confusion.

“The cerevitium is that way,” I mouth, indicating with my thumb.

Easily I read his expression of disbelief. It says, “How can you be thinking of the mission right now?”

I yank him once and he releases forward, his head falling with surrender. My eyes narrow in the dim light, trying to make out the path ahead and remember the map based on where I think we are. And that’s when something strange happens. I can see through the crates up ahead. And then when my eyes widen in astonishment, the effect disappears. I could have sworn I saw varying rows, one after another, beyond the solid crates in front of us. Instantly my feet halt. Nona runs into my back. Rogue spins around soundlessly and stares at me. I hold up a single finger. Listen for the men. Their voices are indistinct on the other side of the warehouse, which is good. I squint and when my eyes are almost closed, the effect happens again, but it’s too brief. Too hazy. Damn it.

“What?” Rogue says, up close so only I can hear him.

“Whoever the Dream Traveler is, his skill is that he can see through solid objects,” I say.

An angry sigh rips out of his mouth as he throws his head sideways. “Sonographer. That’s what the guard must be, and that’s bad news for us. Where are they now?”

“I don’t know,” I say shaking my head, crazed worry taking control over my thoughts. “I don’t know how to use his power. Not really. It just happened by accident earlier.”

Rogue doesn’t look deterred as he tucks his chin to his chest, and flicks his hooded eyes at me. “Close your eyes, Em.”

I startle at the idea.

“Do it,” he encourages.

Without another protest I close my eyes and the world around me emanates into a strange new focus. In front of me I see Rogue, but only in a tinge of blue. Behind him I spy the row of crates and behind their solid structure there’s another row and another. And three rows behind where we reside are two men, their figures cast in blue detail. What I perceive isn’t enough to make out what they’re wearing or the expression on their faces, but I do know that one is carrying an automatic weapon across his back. And the other has the gift I’m leeching now. All he has to do is turn it on and we’re doomed.

My eyes rip open, and instantly I know Rogue has caught the horror on my face. He rushes forward, his face close to mine. “What is it?”

Silently Nona tucks in beside us to listen. I slide my head back so I’m looking at the two of them. “The Middling has a gun.”

“Oh hell,” Rogue says, throwing his hand through his wild curls. “My father knew we’d come through here.”

I nod. “What do we do now?”

Nona has that look on her face, calculating and confident. Her chin raises, along with her eyes. Then she points up. “Mr. Sono won’t be looking up, I bet.”

I smile inside, loving the way her brain works with such an intelligent grace. “After you,” I whisper, holding out my hand. She’s on the crate, scaling it at once. Thankfully we’ve been climbing our house or trees all our lives. Makes for good, life-saving practice when the President is trying to have us killed.

“You next,” Rogue says, watching over his shoulder. I close my eyes. The guards are making their way through the rows, about two over.

“Together,” I suggest.

He nods and we both start our assent up the crates. The diagonal reinforced boards on the sides make for good footing, but I find I have to high step to get up to the top of the box. I’m halfway up the second box when I hear their voices. I halt. Close my eyes and listen.

“Poker takes ages to master. You may wanna stop playing for money until you get down the basics, that’s all I’m sayin’,” the Middling says.

“I think that real men wager to get better. Otherwise what’s the point?”

They’re one row over. Five feet from rounding the corner to the row where we reside. I flip my head up to Nona, who’s already at the top of the boxes. I’ve got to take my own gamble now. “Go to the cerevitium. Stick on the explosives and start the clock.”

She nods without hesitation. I love that she never doubts me. Ever. She crouches down low, running the opposite direction along the tops of the crates, hopping where the rows have gaps.

Rogue pulls himself up onto the top of the crate and turns to cast his eyes down on me. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t make it,” I say in a soft whisper.

“Em…” he says, but I drop on to the ground before he can rush down to me. And the guards round the corner just then and halt. They freeze as soon as their eyes spy me, which is immediately. I already knew from the sonographer skill that one is tall, the other short. The shorter one, the Middling I’m guessing, flips the automatic weapon off his back and points it at me. I don’t know anything about guns, except that they kill. And before today I’ve never seen one in person, or had one aimed at my head.

“Well, what do we have here?” the Middling says.

The Dream Traveler at his side nudges him. “Hey, you recognize her, don’t you?”

“’Course I do, Travis. Long curly blonde hair. That’s the girl the Sup’ told us to be on the lookout for.”

“Well, he also said she’d have an accomplice,” the guy with slicked back hair and khakis says, looking all around with closed eyes, using his sonographer vision. “He said she’d have a big guy with her.”

I close my eyes and scan the area behind the crates, following the path the Dream Traveler is taking in front of me. There’s nothing. Only row after row.

“I’m alone,” I say, my hands held above my head. A weird instinct tells me this is the right position to take at a time like this. I cringe, waiting for a noise overhead, something to draw Mr. X-Ray Vision’s attention up, but thankfully Rogue is silent. “Look, I got lost after my injection. They shut down the labs and I’ve been stuck in here.”

The Dream Traveler angles his head at me, a sly smirk on his face. He steps forward. “Oh, they warned us you were especially crafty. Don’t attempt your lies on us.”

“What else did they tell you about me?” I say, dropping my hands, planting them on my hips.

“Put ’em back up where I can see them,” the Middling orders, using his rifle to direct where he wants my hands to go.

I pinch my mouth at him. Shake my head. “I’m unarmed, so don’t worry.” I turn back to the Dream Traveler. “What else? Tell me. Then I’ll go willingly with you two and you’ll be rewarded for your efforts. Big rewards. Gambling-type money.”

They both seem to consider me for a second. “They said you could control us. Take our power.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because,” the Middling begins, the rifle slightly shaking in his hands, “you’re against the gods. You want to disrupt our government. You hate our order and happiness and want to ruin it because President Vider won’t allow you into the society since you’re corrupted by evil.”

“Did you question this, boys?”

They both regard each other a bit with undeniable confusion. Then shake their heads. “No,” they say in unison.
I step back. I don’t merely need to get away from them, I need to preserve my reputation in their brainwashed minds. Each person I scare on my way to expose Vider will make my ultimate mission harder. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not a bad guy. I’m not a terrorist, but I do have a job to do tonight. You can’t allow me to do it or you’ll be punished by the President. Therefore I’m going to do you a favor and relieve you from disarming me. I’m going to make it so you’re seen as innocent. And best of all, I’m totally not going to hurt you. Only cause you a bit of discomfort.”

I direct my gaze to Rogue, whose eyes are staring straight down at me. “Now!” All along I felt him overhead, crouched, waiting for my command. My single order is enough for him to know what I intend. Using his apportational ability he rips the weapon from the Middling. It disappears and the guard searches the space, holding his empty hands out with disbelief. The other guard, Travis, closes his eyes and scans the room, doing a full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn. Just as he’s completing it, confusion written on his face, Rogue drops down in front of them holding the gun.

“Hi, boys,” Rogue says, a cute coyness in his voice as he hands the weapon off to me. I point it in their direction, but I’m nervous about how to hold it. About what I could accidentally do with it.

I’ve already scanned the boxes and know that the single row of crates to the right of us are empty. “This one,” I say to Rogue, angling my head at it. “Can you take the lid off?”

Rogue nods. Then pries the lid from the box, letting it slide off the side and clatter to the ground.

“Get in,” Rogue says, motioning to the crate. The guards stand frozen, staring at Rogue and then the box.

“He means,” I say, explaining, “that you two need to both crawl into this box. It won’t be comfortable, but you won’t be hurt. And in the morning you’ll be found alive and innocent. No harm done.”

The men exchange uncertain glances. “Look,” I say, “it’s this, or I kill you, which I don’t want to do. Please note and express to all that I never hurt Reverians if I can help it. I’m not the monster the President would have you believe I am.”

“I’d advise you to crawl into this box,” Rogue says, picking up the lid.

Again, the two exchange glances then focus on the gun in my hands. “I don’t wanna die,” the Middling says with a shrug, stepping forward. “Sounds like an okay compromise to me.”

Behind him the Dream Traveler waits. “How do I know we’ll be able to breathe in there?”

I direct a single finger at the box and then focus a tiny thread of charge on it. The shock sprints out of my finger and singes through the wood, creating an inch-wide notch. Smoke and the smell of burnt wood wafts through the air. “There,” I say. “Now you’ll have enough air.”

Both men clamber for the box at once, pushing each other, jockeying to be the first in the small compartment. When they’re safely squatted down low Rogue slides the heavy, oversized lid over the top of the box, managing it easily. Four metal clamps ensure that the lid stays on tight and its contents don’t escape. I set the gun on top of the wooden lid, glad to relieve myself of the cold metal machine.

“Sleep tight, guys,” I say, patting the side of the crate. “Someone will find you in the morning. And thanks for your cooperation.”

Muffled harrumphs echo through the box. I look at Rogue, feeling strangely unnerved by how easy that was. He’s shaking his head at me, a quiet pride in his eyes.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing,” he says, grabbing my elbow and hurrying me back the way we came. “That was just more fun than a short stack on a Sunday morning. And watching you order grown men around was the syrup on those pancakes.”

We return to the entrance, scanning the area for Nona. We weren’t far from where the cerevitium is supposed to be stored. It shouldn’t have taken her long. But for two full minutes we wait, my hip pressed into Rogue’s body as I stand and hardly breathe.

Finally I say, “Should we go look for her?”

Rogue turns to me, seeming to weigh on the decision. Then his eyes widen, but before he can say anything, a whoosh of wind collides with my back.

“Why would you look for me when I’m right here,” Nona says, rising from a crouching position, her voice tattered with ragged breaths. Her cheeks are flushed, but the smile on her face is genuine. My eyes reach up to the fifteen-foot drop she just made from the stack of crates in front of me.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I say, pulling her closer and checking her over. Besides the rush of adrenaline making her blood beat wildly under her skin, she looks fine.

“Just enjoying the element of surprise,” she says, a neat smile tucked at the corner of her lips.

“Well…?” I say, anticipation beating in my chest.

“It’s all done,” she says, striding around Rogue and me, a new confidence in her gait. “Set to detonate in one hour.”

“Have I mentioned how glad I am that this one is on our side?” Rogue says to me, indicating Nona.

I agree with a nod.

Nona is already at the door we came through, propping it open with the toe of her foot. “Shall we? We have a few thousand more vials of toxic formulas to destroy.”

I march forward. “Well, when you put it that way.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

A new confidence surges through my limbs as I stride down the hallway, taking the lead. Rogue finally allows this. He slows, bringing up the back of the group, keeping Nona protected between us. The synthesizing labs connect to the back of the doctor’s offices. That’s where I discovered Rogue those long three months ago. I’m also hyperaware that close to this area is another set of offices where Middlings bring their infants for withdrawals. The labs are a maze of unmarked rooms, though, making it impossible to figure out where that area could be. Instead, I head straight for the main synthesizing room, where Parker has indicated most of the cerevitium is stored.

Luckily Parker’s badge gives me the proper access to enter the locked door. I swing open the heavy door and realize at once that I’ve never been in this room. It’s twice the size of the other lab rooms I’ve seen. In almost all ways the room appears innocuous in its plain starkness. Unlike the other lab room I snuck through, this one is orderly. All lab equipment and test tubes have been placed flush to the backsplash. The counters are clear and every cabinet along the wall is shut.

Nona starts for the door on the other side of the room, her shoulders high and back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I say, racing to her and blocking her path.

She rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face. “I’m going to go be efficient. I’ll start on the doctors’ offices, while you two knock out the supply in here.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t need to be electrokinetic to destroy stuff, Em. My hands work fine for demolishing tiny, fragile glass vials.”

“Fine,” I acquiesce after a brief deliberation. “But I want you to dart back here at the first sign of trouble. Clear?”

She nods, looking more like she’s humoring me than actually trying to follow my orders. “Have fun,” she says and swings open the door and disappears at once.

“What am I going to do with her?” I say, spinning around, my hands on my hips. And then my heart fractures. Rogue is gripping his head, his back half to me. I know the signs too clearly. The shaking of his hands. Grimace on his face. The way he presses his hands into his temples, trying to press against the unrelenting pain.

“Rogue,” I say, rushing to his side.

And then he does something he’s never done before. He stands straight. Drops his hand. And fakes a smile. “I’m fine.”

The stubborn expression hardly covers the pain I know he feels. “No you’re not. You’re having a headache. How long?”

“It’s fine, Em. Let’s get to work.” And he moves, but his actions don’t carry his trademark grace.

His shoulders are pinned up high, like he’s carrying the weight of the Valley on his back. Rogue has never dared try to push through the pain. It’s not that he didn’t want to, but usually that he couldn’t. The resilient expression in his eyes pauses on me when I move around him and place a hand on his chest. “You sit.” I motion to the barstool next to a work station. “Relax.”

He presses against my hand, but there’s no real force to it. None of the power that I know Rogue owns. His eyes narrow, but not at me. From the way his face contorts I know he’s trying to pretend, trying to operate through the pain. “You’re beautifully ridiculous if you think I’m going to sit and watch you have all the fun.”

He’s right. This is something he should be a part of. If anyone should have the morose pleasure of ruining these drugs it’s Rogue. The very headache that plagues him now is a result of these deceptive formulas. I nod. “Fine. Just don’t overdo it.”

I head straight for the locked cabinet where Parker swore the largest supply outside the warehouse was stored. The lock, which would have deterred me before, is disabled in seconds with the tools we brought along. Rogue opens the large cabinet doors and in front of us stands row after row of one-and-a-half-inch bottles of pink liquid. Poison. The drug that my father ordered I have injected into me starting at adolescence. The drug that for three years suppressed the gift given to me by the gods. And now thousands of bottles of the drug wink back at me. A hundred rows. Each one pristinely organized. Each bottle neatly stacked in front of another.

“I think this one is yours,” I say to Rogue. He doesn’t look much better, but he’s doing a good job of hiding the pain I know screams in his head. And instead of brandishing the usual rebellious smile at me, Rogue simply nods, a slow movement.

Hesitantly I turn in the direction of a row of cabinets, their contents supposedly all full of cerevitium. Again the lock is a sad deterrent that doesn’t hold up to my flathead and hammer. I’m unsurprised this time to lay my eyes on hundreds of shiny bottles of pink fluid.

I kind of hoped their destruction would take a little while. That it would hold a satisfying release when the bottles exploded and cerevitium oozed out on the shelves, now useless. The electricity I expel from my hand blasts the hundreds of bottles at once, causing a spray of tiny shards of glass. My arm whips up to shield me, but the explosion is already over by then. In a matter of seconds I destroyed every drug in the opened cabinets. It doesn’t give me the pleasure I expected.

Behind me the scene is quiet. Not filled with the tell-tale sounds of destruction that I expected. I turn, my eyes landing at once on Rogue’s limp figure. He’s not slumped like usual when he has a headache that makes it tough to stand. Instead, he looks like he’s passed out.

“Rogue,” I cough out, darting in his direction, the fear accidentally making me leech his speed. He doesn’t stir when I grab his shoulders. His arms and legs lay splayed out, his face to the side. Usually he convulses from the headaches. Hunches over. Grips at his head. Groans in pain. Now he’s lifeless. “Rogue,” I say again, my face close to his, my hands on his sweltering cheeks. “Can you hear me?”

He mumbles something incoherent. And then unexpectedly grabs his head and rolls over on his side, knocking into me. “Rogue?” I say again, entirely too loud. His eyes don’t peel open at the sound of my voice and he gives no indication that he’s aware I’m here beside him. Violent shivers rip from him like he’s suddenly freezing, although sweat continues to pour from his forehead. Afraid to shake him, but growing increasingly worried each second he remains incoherent, I grip both his shoulders and rock him slightly. “Wake up, Rogue! You can’t do this here!”

Not here.

I search the giant lab, aware that we are prisoners here as long as Rogue is incapacitated. Sitting ducks.

At the first sight of her I flinch, fearing she’s another guard. She rounds the corner, her hair flaring around her from her speed. First her eyes land on Rogue’s lifeless form and then on my worry-crazed face. “What’s happened to him?” she asks, rushing forward.

“He had a headache, but then I don’t know,” I say, my words a jittery mess. I lift his shoulders and Rogue’s head slumps back and then suddenly, he begins to convulse again, like he’s having a mild seizure. His limbs flay in the air, a hand knocking me so hard across the face that I wince from the assault, tears prickling behind my eyes. Instinctively I back away, but Rogue has already gone still again, his hands now cradling his head as he lies on his side.

“What do you usually do when this happens?” Nona asks, her frightened eyes shifting between Rogue and me.

“He’s never passed out. Not like this. He’s always lucid.”

Nona spins around, eyes scanning. “Maybe there’s something in here or a nearby lab that can help him?”

I’ve pushed into a standing position beside her now. “How am I supposed to know what random drug will help him?!” I yell, all my anger shooting out of me as I whip around to face her.

“Well, maybe I can find the meds he’s used to taking,” my sister says, not at all flustered.

“And how am I supposed to get him to take it?” I say, throwing one arm in his direction. Nona isn’t the problem here. She’s halfway to a solution, but my frustration has erupted with no way to easily control it now. “What he needs is someone who can help him. And there’s only one person who I know of.”

Nona nods, seeming to understand my plan immediately. “What about that?” She points to the case of cerevitium that Rogue was supposed to destroy. All bottles sit neatly in the cabinet. Not one destroyed.

I direct my hand at the case, careful to regulate the amount of electricity I unleash on it. I don’t want to blow up the wall, only the case. A neat voltage springs from my palm, assaulting the cabinet. An explosion of glass, pink fluid, and splinters of wood sprays through the air in a mist of smoke. A small fire now burns in the case, but nothing that looks like it won’t be contained by the metal walls and tile flooring. The explosion, though, could have caused some attention.

“Help me with Rogue,” I say to Nona. Thankfully he’s quiet and still now, not jerking uncontrollably. Wrenching him to a sitting position, I drape his arm over my shoulder and wait for Nona to do the same. Even after the explosion and all the movement, Rogue remains unconscious. Unaware that he’s chosen the worst place in the world to pass out.

Gods, I need to get him out of here.

“On the count of three,” I say to Nona, squatting down low, encouraging my feet to be strong under me. “One. Two. Three.” We both haul to our feet, bringing Rogue up with us. It feels like we’re lifting an oversized sofa, although he’s much more pliant than a piece of furniture. The first step brings a grunt out of Nona’s mouth, but she doesn’t dare complain. Rogue’s feet drag behind him, making each of my steps harder than the last.

“Hold up a second,” I say to Nona as I slump at a nearby countertop. It’s impossible to fathom the idea of carrying him through multiple hallways with only the help of my little sister. He’s too large, too heavy for us to manage like a deadweight.

Left with little choice, I raise my hand and bring it across Rogue’s face with a loud smack. Nona gasps, letting more of Rogue’s body weight fall on my shoulder. His head pulls back after a moment’s hesitation and then he shakes his head. Groans. A sound like a reluctant cow being forced into a small space. Finally he half opens one eye, then the other joins it.

“Rogue,” I say, gripping the sides of his face. Grateful to finally see his green eyes.

He starts from my quick motions, seeming to wince from pain or the dim lights or the strangeness of his surroundings and position.

“We’re still in the labs,” I say, forceful but delicate with each word. “You’ve passed out, but I need you to help us get you out of here.”

I expect a cute quip or a smile or at least a look of surprise. Instead, Rogue gives a tired nod and then pushes himself off the counter, swaying as he does. I stabilize him, bringing his arm around my shoulders, and Nona does the same, catching him just before he wavers from my grasp. His feet are finally under him, but I feel his unsteadiness like a sinking ship under us.

“Let’s go,” I say to Nona, as Rogue’s eyes drift closed again. “Stay awake, Rogue. You’re too big for us to carry you.”

He straightens reflexively, his weight only partially on us as he trudges forward. Each movement is a chore for all of us. Each step brings questions to my mind. I don’t know what’s going on with him. By the confused look he wears between the grimaces of pain, I can tell he doesn’t either. I’m stunned by how suddenly this all has struck him. And also by the incoherent edge Rogue keeps drawing close to. I rattle him each time, at least twenty different occasions between the giant lab and the door we entered through. Seeing the “EXIT” sign above that door fills me with only partial relief. There’s no way we can carry Rogue through town to Zack’s house. And there’s absolutely no way we’re getting him back to the camp or to any usual place of safety. With Rogue only half conscious and not truly in control of his limbs I think we’re running out of options.

I start in the direction of the Dumpster where we found Nona an hour ago. “What are you doing?” she says, confusion blanketing her face.

“We’re going to hide,” I say, angling my head at Rogue’s, which partially rests on my shoulder. “And you’re going to go get Zack. You’re stronger than most, but you and I can’t get Rogue to safety. We’ll hide out until Zack can come help us.”

Nona helps me half drag Rogue behind the Dumpster, moving it to accompany his larger size. Then she pushes it back, opening the lid on top and bringing it back until it catches on its hinge. It perfectly shades us from the overhead light. A sour odor instantly hits my nostrils. I suck in short, sharp breaths through my mouth, but can still taste the garbage.

“After you tell Zack where to meet us, I want you to go home. Don’t come back.”

“But Em, I need to—” Nona protests.

“Rogue will be fine and I need you to protect your reputation. Go to the hospital and tell Zack to help us. Then stay or go home, but don’t come back to us. Okay?”

She nods reluctantly, backing up as she does. Then she turns and sprints through the streetlights.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The prickly concrete wall at my back instantly makes me itch. Nevertheless I press more firmly into it to ensure I don’t take space that Rogue needs. Nona had helped me prop him next to me, against the wall, but that didn’t last long. He lost consciousness again and I let him slide over until his head was resting in my lap. Thankfully his body is curled up, lying cleanly behind the Dumpster. None of him exposed.

Irregular breaths rasp from his mouth. Again and again I stroke Rogue’s black hair. Trace the contours of his face. Several times he awakes briefly, but each time he looks at me with a disoriented expression, like he doesn’t quite recognize me.

“It’s going to be okay, Rogue,” I whisper into his ear at least one time each minute, until an hour has passed. The explosive would have gone off by now. It’s encouraging that I didn’t hear it. That it was small enough not to rock the building, only big enough to destroy ten thousand units of cerevitium.

I keep hoping Rogue will stir into a sitting position, but this headache appears to be more debilitating than the others. He probably hasn’t been taking his meds. Stubborn jerk.

The putrid smell of the Dumpster seems to be thicker than before. My back aches from my position hunched over Rogue. I’ve given up keeping watch and now all my focus is on him. Many times I’ve had to clap my hand over his mouth to muffle his groans of pain. It feels so wrong to stifle him right now, but since I know he’d rather not be caught, I willingly do it. But he moves only through an instinct to fight the pain. His consciousness lost in a battle against this headache.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” I say, but then startle upon sitting up. A figure sprints in our direction, through the streetlights, not even trying to hide in the shadows. And the smile that breaks across my face surprises me. It’s one of relief. Zack’s suit jacket whips around him as he moves. Even from twenty yards away I spy the look of unmistakable worry overwhelming his face. I’ve never seen him move so fast. Didn’t know he could.

“Rogue,” I say, a hint of hope in my voice. “Rogue.” I shake his shoulders. “Zack is here. We’ll get you help.” And my heart, which lightened the moment I saw Zack approaching, ready to help, sinks suddenly. Rogue is unresponsive to my attempts to awake him. Lightly I slap his cheeks. Blow on his face. Tap on his chest. And he remains frozen. Unmoving. His pulse beats slow but steady.

Zack’s leather shoes clap against the pavement with each of his steps. He isn’t concerned for his noise or presence. I know that firmly when he arrives and throws the lids back on the Dumpster, sending the overhead security light raining down on us at once. I squint, my eyes adjusting to the brightness as Zack heaves the Dumpster away in a swift movement. He doesn’t say a word, but the anxious look in his eyes is enough to express all his current concerns. Bent on being efficient, Zack kneels down, pulling Rogue’s arm over his shoulder and hurling the both of them up to a standing position. I’m quick to rise and take the place on the other side of Rogue. Like before, I wrap his arm around my shoulder and urge him forward. The good news is that although Rogue appears to mostly be unconscious, he has his feet under him now and although his steps are wobbly, he’s able to walk with our assistance. Most of his weight Zack bears, but together we’re able to make quick progress, pulling Rogue back the way Zack just came.

At the corner, Zack’s eyes finally connect with mine, a new weight in them. “Where to?” he says between breaths.

“Parker’s house. It’s only a block down this street,” I say, rounding into the alley behind the shops, enjoying being back in the dark.

“But Rogue said that—”

“Rogue said to take him to Parker as a last resort,” I interrupt. “And since he’s passed out, I think this qualifies.”

Zack doesn’t protest or agree, only moves forward.

***

My knock on Parker’s back door sounds as loud as thunder in the quiet neighborhood. I swing around to the yard we came through, which is shrouded in darkness. Hopefully his neighbors are getting ready for bed, which Parker is probably doing too. Soon it will be curfew and all Reverians will need to put on their sleep cuffs. If Zack and Parker don’t then they’ll be in trouble. Again I knock.

A scratchy shuffling greets my ears, brings hope to my chest. The door opens a crack, the old woman behind it gives me an inquisitive grin. “You’re back,” she says, sounding amused. Her sparking brown eyes slide to Rogue and then Zack.

“And as you can see we need help. Will you please let us in?” I say, repositioning Rogue on my shoulder.

“Ji-hoon isn’t going to like this,” Parker’s mother says, seeming to enjoy the idea. She steps back, opening the door wide, and regards Rogue with a skeptical expression. “Is he drunk?”

I can’t hide the eye roll that follows her question. “Of course not,” I say, stepping in first, angling sideways to allow for Rogue’s broad shoulders. Zack does the same, bringing up the rear. “He’s sick and Parker can help. He already said he would.”

The commotion must have brought Parker barreling into the kitchen. He halts at the sight of us and slaps a hand over his forehead with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“We need your help,” I say. “And you said you’d see Rogue.”

“What I said was I’d meet you somewhere,” he says, his voice frantic, eyes wide. “You promised not to come to my house again.”

“Things changed,” I say, continuing to move forward, half dragging Rogue with me.

“I told you he wouldn’t like it,” the old woman says, turning at once, bustling off, a smile in her voice.

“We’re here now. I want you to examine Rogue,” I say, only pausing when we’re two feet from Parker. “He needs your help.”

Parker studies his face, both looking contemplative and shocked. “He’s changed a lot, hasn’t he?”

“Do you not see that he’s passed out?!” I say so loud that Zack punishes me with a glare. “A headache did this to him.”

Parker gives a quick nod. “Of course. I’m merely trying to piece together all of this. It’s quite a shock to have a patient brought to my house.” He turns and flurries down the darkened hallway. “Bring him to my room and I’ll examine him there.”

I give a hopeful nod to Zack on the other side of Rogue. He’s red-faced from the strain of carrying Rogue, but returns the nod with a determined half smile.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Turning to the side again we pull Rogue through the hallway. His feet move under him somewhat, but he hasn’t made a single noise since Zack arrived to help. Now his head rests on my shoulder, and throughout the journey it’s bobbed around, draping forward and back.

We arrive at a modest room with a neatly made bed and a dresser, but not much else. To say it’s plain isn’t the right description. It’s stripped. Parker points to the bed, a nervous look on his face. “Lay him there.”
Ungracefully we lay Rogue down, arranging him at once so he’s on the bed completely. It’s too weird to move his heavy, limp limbs. Everything is wrong about the act. But I’m somewhat relieved to have to only carry myself. I roll out my shoulders as I watch Parker dig into a suitcase behind the door, retrieving a stethoscope from it.

“You were planning on leaving, weren’t you?” I say, unable to keep the hostile conviction out of my voice.

“I did what you asked,” Parker says, rushing around the room looking for his instruments. “I documented the locations of the cerevitium.”

“So now you’re going to run when you could help more?”

He stops rummaging through a drawer. Pushes his glasses up on his nose. “I can’t help anyone,” he says, a cruel self-loathing in his eyes.

“You can help him,” I say, pointing at Rogue. Then my throat catches as I look at him. Really see him for how he is right now. Fragile. Unconscious. Weak. Rogue’s head lies to the side, his body appearing to sleep but his consciousness locked away. I forget Parker and his cowardly behavior at once.

The bed springs creak when I sit down next to Rogue. “What’s happened to him?” I say, grabbing Rogue’s hand, wishing he’d squeeze mine back. “Is he in a coma?”

The clatter of Parker’s movements halts behind me. He walks slowly until he’s beside me, giving a tentative expression. “I don’t think so,” he says in a careful voice. Tucked into his shirt pocket is a syringe. He sets a tiny bottle full of clear liquid on the bedside table. Another drug. “I’ll need to examine him to know for sure though. You said he had a headache and that caused this?”

“Yes,” I say, stroking my fingers over the top of Rogue’s hand. “He just passed out. He’s never done that. And he’s only been half conscious since then, coming in and out.” The tip of my finger draws dime-sized circles around his wrist and then up his forearm. And then quite suddenly Rogue’s fingers flex. His arm reaches forward, then retracts, seeming to be searching. His hand finds mine and he seizes on it with a gentle pressure. An almost smile gives new life to his drawn face.

“Rogue,” I say, excitement in my voice. I grab the side of his face, bringing it forward from its resting position.

His eyelids flicker, his head still angled down. And then he pulls his chin back, holding his head up without my assistance. Rogue’s eyes make three attempts to open, and then when they do I lean in close.

“There you are,” I say, my voice a gush of relief.

“Where have I been?” Rogue says, the act of talking coating his words with pain.

“You passed out,” I say, moving in to look at his eyes more clearly, which still seem disoriented. He continues to blink, each one taking longer than it should. But then he stays focused on me, a smile finally reaching his lips. “There you are,” he says. “Damn eyes weren’t working.” His gaze slides up to Parker standing beside me and the smile drops from his face. Horror takes over his expression. “Oh, damn it, Em!” he says with a growl. “What have you done?”

“I brought you here. We did,” I say, motioning at Zack and myself. “You passed out. What else were we supposed to do?”

“Not take me to see him,” Rogue says, pointing at Parker like he wishes he’d disappear. “Hey there, Doc. Sorry not to be happier to see you.”

“What’s your deal, Rogue?” I say, straightening.

“I’m just not ready to see him,” Rogue says, his eyes cast low like the floor in the distance is particularly interesting. “I’m not ready.”

“Em,” Parker says, his hand on my shoulder. “Can you please move aside so I can examine Rogue properly?”

Rogue flinches from the idea. He looks ten times worse than usual after an episode. His eyes are bloodshot, puffy. Blotches of red mark his face and his hair is coated to his forehead from the sweat of the fever. Nonetheless he’s the most handsome man alive. A headache and a fever can’t take that from him. He gives me a weak nod. “Zack, will you take Em in the other room?” Rogue says, motioning to the door. The effort of only doing that looks to be too much for him. “The doc and I need to discuss something.”

“Sure,” Zack says, stepping to my side.

I rise from the bed and step softly, each movement feeling strange, like I’m suddenly outside my body. There’s something in Rogue’s eyes. A odd haunting expression. It chills me even now when I’m not looking at him. Again and again I’ve had the impression that he’s not telling me something, but now it feels like he’s doing more than that.

Once in the hallway I slide down the wall and sit on the wooden floor as Zack closes the door behind him. The hallway is narrow and smells like the floors have been recently polished. Across from me Zack takes a seat.

“Was it successful, otherwise?” he asks.

I know without him saying it that he means the task at the labs. “I think so,” I say, my eyes pinned on the door. Waiting for it to open. For my opportunity to be back beside Rogue. “We left before I was certain the detonation of the major supply happened, but I destroyed everything I saw and I think so did Nona.”

Zack nods. “Now we wait to see what comes of it.”

My mind is a million miles from the lab and the destroyed bottles of cerevitium. “Zack, he’s going to finally get help,” I say, finally allowing enthusiasm to enter my voice. “Parker will be able to do something, don’t you think?”

“I’m hopeful if anyone can it will be him.”

We sit in silence for another minute before Parker opens the door, a strange expression on his face. That was fast. I rush to a standing position, ready to enter the room, but Parker holds up a single hand. His long skinny fingers make an unassuming stop sign.

“I need to talk to you before you see him,” he says.

“What? Did you examine him? Did you give him something?”

Parker makes to nod and then shakes his head. He steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. “I tried to examine him, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Damn it, Rogue! What’s your problem?” I say loud enough that he no doubt can hear me through the closed door.

“He did allow me to give him a sedative, which will relieve some of the residual pain and tremors from the headache. Let’s let him rest. Please join me in my office.” Parker turns and holds out a hand directing me. I exchange a skeptical expression with Zack. Swallowing down something sharp in my throat, I consent by walking forward.

Parker’s office is as bare as his bedroom. There’s a long couch, an empty bookcase, and a desk, but not much else.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Parker says, indicating the couch. Zack takes a seat alongside me.

It’s Parker’s pacing that immediately makes me rise back into a standing position. “Tell me what’s going on?”

The doctor pauses, his hesitant eyes flicking up to mine before revolving on the floor again. He pinches his mouth together. Opens it. And then snaps it shut again.

“Oh, curse the gods, what the hell is going on?!” I yell, my words and tone making Parker jump. No one in their right mind would curse the gods, and I’m definitely meeting that definition right now as anxiety overwhelms my thoughts. “Why wouldn’t Rogue let you examine him? What have you done to him in the past that he hates you so much?!” Zack’s hand touches my shoulder, but I shrug it off. Step forward.

After another few seconds of deliberation Parker locks his eyes on me. “I have done many things wrong. I have hurt Rogue in the same and different ways that I unknowingly did to you and other Defects for years.” His words are unhurried and I’m seconds away from electrocuting him to get answers. “But those are not the reasons that Rogue was against seeing me.” He pauses, his gaze swiveling to Zack beside me and then back on the ground. My eyes bulge with frustration.

“Parker!” I say his name with frustrated contempt.

He nods, seeming to gather himself. Brings his chin up. “From everything I can gather, this headache Rogue had tonight is causing brain swelling. That’s the reason he passed out,” he says, now talking in a quick, matter-of-fact tone. “It was really only a matter of time before the headaches progressed to this point. I’d been suspicious of this since you explained what he was experiencing. The brain damage must have caused—”

“Wait,” I say, stepping forward and feeling my knees almost falter under me. “Did you say brain swelling?” I feel like I’ve walked into quicksand and it’s overwhelming me, about to suffocate me.

Parker clasps his hands behind his back. Nods, his head low as he does. “Yes. I’m afraid so.” And there’s no trace of actual fear in his voice.

“Do something about it,” I say. Each word is forced through my clenched teeth.

Again Parker’s eyes rise to Zack before returning to me. “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?!” I say, almost springing forward, attacking Parker.

Parker shakes his head, not backing away from me, looking more concerned by something plaguing him from the inside. “It’s progressed too far.”

“No,” I say in one long whispered voice.

“Em, there’s nothing I can do.”

“What are you saying, Parker?”

“I’m saying that it’s too late to stop the swelling.”

“But you haven’t even examined him!” I yell.

“No, but it’s an educated guess based on everything I know about Rogue and everything he’s shared with me just now,” Parker says, his words sounding heavy, like they’re coated in lead.

“What? Tell me everything.”

Parker breathes deeply with his eyes closed. When he opens them there’s a sharp discomfort so accurately expressed in one single gaze. “Rogue wouldn’t allow me to examine him because he knows it’s already too late.”

“Damn it, Parker. He’s not a doctor,” I say, my tone quiet, but my words harsh. “I order you to go back and give him a full examination.”

Parker shakes his head at once. “Rogue has had a premonition about tonight. It’s the reason he never wanted to see me. He believed the next time we met would be right before he died.”

“He’s wrong!” I scream, and it feels like it’s enough to shatter my throat.

Parker’s mouth twitches. “I’m afraid he probably isn’t.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

A blackness starts to creep into my vision, carrying with it spots. And second by second an anxiety so pronounced I think it will tear me in two takes over. So to battle this, to survive, I explode. “You did this to him!” I shriek and bolt forward until I’m in Parker’s face.

He doesn’t move, but does cringe from my sudden proximity. “I didn’t know.”

“You injected poison into him. You can’t plead ignorance and think that will pardon you from fixing him.”

“I would if I could, but there’s no way.”

“You can’t let him die.” And I gulp on the last word, my chest suddenly shuddering from a cold weight. The hands gripping Parker’s shirt are mine, but I don’t remember using them. I don’t remember making the decision to push him into the wall. My feet race forward without my consent, my fist ready to assault Parker. And then hands grip my forearms from behind, pulling me away, off the cowering doctor who now has his hands obstructing his head.

Spinning me around in one movement, Zack pushes in until his eyes are level with mine. “Em, he can’t do anything.”

Immediately I dart my eyes to the floor. “But he…” I stop. Suck in a shallow breath. Gulp down the acid rising in my throat. “He has to do something. How can you allow him to give up?” I say, staring intently at a baseboard, my eyes like polarizing magnets to Zack’s.

“Em, please look at me?” Zack asks, each of his hands pinned on one of my shoulders.

I shake my head. Bite my lip.

“Fine, but don’t waste your energy being angry. Don’t waste this time,” he says.

This time. The brutal implications in those two words strike me like a bulldozer. “Don’t waste this time,” I repeat in a shocked whisper. We only don’t waste what is limited and soon to run out. Confused outrage makes me swivel my gaze up to look at Zack. The brutal pain in his eyes does exactly what I knew it would: it makes my own grief erupt to the surface. The hot anger I felt toward Parker is now engulfed by a searing ache. And then the strangest déjà vu hits me. Four years ago I stared into these same blue eyes and witnessed the identical tortured expression on Zack’s face. Back then the same disbelieving sorrow took residence in my chest that is starting to pulse there now.

“We can’t accept this,” I say to Zack, and strangely my voice sounds calm, unmarked by the tears plaguing my throat. “Not this time. We have to fight.”

Zack flicks his eyes over my shoulder to where Parker stands. “Is there something you can try? Something you can give him?”

“Not at this stage and even if there was, Rogue won’t allow it. He made that exceptionally clear,” Parker says, his voice so clinical I want to tear it out of his throat. Maybe Zack senses this because his hands stay firmly wrapped around each of my shoulders. “The pain medicine I’ve given him is all he’ll allow, but it will keep him comfortable until—”

“Finish that sentence and I will kill you Parker,” I say, my vengeful eyes on Zack’s. I see a similar anger in his, but he’s so much better at containing it.

“He’s not the enemy,” Zack says, his chin low, eyes piercing into mine.

“No, he’s a follower. A doctor who injected innocent children without investigating what the drugs were.” I flip my head over my shoulder, only able to catch Parker in my peripheral. “If the gods actually exist I hope they make your life long and one that is riddled with torturous guilt.”

I don’t catch the exact look in his eyes, but I know shame when I see it. Each word I speak out of anger smothers the pain. I realize now how people choose this ugly emotion. It’s the lesser of two evils. At least with my anger burning in my veins I have energy, whereas pain robs me of motivation and the desire to move and act.

“Em, look at me,” Zack says. He’s going to try and convince me to calm down. To stop being so hostile. And if I look at Zack again he will mirror my pain, which I can’t see right now.

“No,” I say, and using every ounce of strength I own I rip out of Zack’s grasp and march forward. I feel him at my back, ready to pull me off Parker again, but he pauses when I stalk past the doctor and out the door.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The sound of Rogue stirring against the bed linens rips across the room when I enter. I keep my eyes low, trying again and again to arrange my face into something that isn’t tragic.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here,” Rogue says, his voice raspy and deep, “but I’m guessing you’re pretty pissed at me right now.”

My eyes clasp shut. I squeeze them so hard it makes my head hurt. “Please don’t joke right now.”

“Later doesn’t work for me, Em.”

I snap my eyes open, dark spots crowding my vision for a second. “Is this a game to you, Rogue? How are you so flippant?”

He lies in the bed propped up by several pillows. One of his arms rests casually behind his head, but the look on his face contradicts his position and his words. Written on Rogue’s face is a raw tragic knowingness. I see it so clearly now that it knocks my breath out of my chest. That look was there all along. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

He nods, a minute motion. “I knew before you brought me here. I’ve known I was going to die tonight for a long time.”

“Don’t. Say. That.”

“I can reword it a hundred different ways, but the implications are the same.”

“Tell me everything,” I say, reversing until the wall is firm against my back, holding me up. “Don’t leave out any more secrets.”

He waves me forward, a gesture that I’ve seen him do a hundred times and now looks too slow, too weak to belong to him.

I shake my head, plant my hands behind me, trying to grip the wall for support.

Rogue seems to think my distance is entertaining judging by the look on his face. “Em, I saw what happens tonight in a vision I had years ago after a headache. This one vision has been persistent. It’s why I chose to live alone. I knew I’d die young. And it’s also why every trip to the Valley has been so tense for me. I always saw myself with Dr. Parker in my vision, explaining to him that this was my last resting place. Tonight that conversation came to pass.”

“That’s why you never wanted to see Parker? You connected your meeting with him to…”

“Exactly, I knew the next time I saw Parker would be my last.”

“Rogue, I’m sorry. I brought you here. I didn’t know,” I say, pressing more firmly into the wall.

“How could you have known? I didn’t want you to, that’s why I didn’t tell you. There’s no way on the gods’ green earth I was gonna torture you with this knowledge. You would have been miserable. But no matter what I knew it would happen. Running from fate will only make you run into it.”

“But you say that all you’ve seen is some stupid conversation with Parker. How can you be so convinced?” And I know what Parker just told me about Rogue’s brain swelling, but I’m not going to accept this. Not now, maybe never.

“I’ve seen past my death. I know.”

“Rogue, this is absurd. You’re piecing together visions. All this could be a mistake.”

The corner of his mouth draws up with a partial smile. “I’ve seen so much past my death. I’ve seen you, and the rebellion, and change,” he says, conviction in his voice. “Thing is that I’ve seen my death for so long, but I never saw you and me together. The gods must have kept it a secret so as to not spoil the surprise,” he says too casually. “I always assumed I died alone.”

“Stop,” I say, throwing my head into the wall behind me. “Please stop talking like that, so nonchalantly. It makes this all feel—”

“Real?”

I can’t believe tears aren’t streaming out of my eyes right now. They feel vaulted away in some hollow part of me. Even as I bring my focus intently on Rogue, I don’t have the urge to cry, although the pain is well above any I’ve felt before. “Rogue, this can’t be real. What you’re saying isn’t right.”

“I’ve battled against this reality for years, Em. I don’t wanna leave this earth, but more than anything I don’t wanna leave you. I’d suffer every day to remain at your side, but that’s not an option I’ve been given. Since you came back to me it’s been harder to accept my fate. It used to be a lot easier, when I didn’t think I’d leave you to grieve.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I don’t mean to, but I keep running my eyes over Rogue, laid out in the doctor’s bed. No matter what I can’t make sense of this. It’s a bad dream, like one I’d had when my father punished me with the night terror generator.

I don’t dare move away from the wall. Actually I wish I’d chosen a place farther away. But I hardly blink, afraid to miss a moment of watching him watch me. We’re like this for several minutes when he finally closes his eyes for a long few seconds.

“Rogue!” I squeak out.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but does smile a little. “I’m still here. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Look at me,” I demand, feeling so foreign to him right now and also fragile because I know him so well. I don’t want to be in this moment with him right now. Like a coward, I want to run. But I won’t.

“Come here,” he says.

“No,” I say, and can’t believe my own answer. It’s just that there’s so many reasons I can’t be close to Rogue, and one is that I sense he wants me to say goodbye. I’d rather stay glued to this wall for the night than do that.

“Okay,” he says, opening his green eyes. “You win. I thought for sure that would work.”

“This isn’t a game, Rogue. This is life and… This isn’t something you joke about.”

“Death,” Rogue says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?”

“That’s what you won’t say, but the sooner you accept this then the better for you. This is life and this is death.”

“If I’m supposed to accept this, then why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“I already explained that,” he says, tipping his head sideways at me, a look of rebellion in his eyes.

“Well, then you should realize that it’s going to take me an eternity to accept this.”

He readjusts himself on the bed. “Gonna have to do it sooner than that, but you do have some time. Would you do me a favor though?”

I drop my chin and regard him incredulously. “What?”

“Would you mind fetching Zack for me?”

I nod, feeling brittle like a dried out sand dollar. I peel back the door and immediately find red-rimmed eyes staring back at me. Zack’s. Rogue’s causal manner has kept me steady but looking at Zack I almost crumble. How I feel in this surreal moment is written so perfectly on his face. He’s breathing through his mouth, horror a second away from the expression on his face. I wave him into the room. He steps past me and his shoulders slump slightly as he takes in Rogue’s mostly alive figure stretched out on the bed. Zack approaches and I head for the exit.

“Don’t leave, Em,” Rogue calls out to me, but his voice is still a croak. “I need you to stay back where you’ve quarantined yourself though, but don’t go. Just give us a private minute, would you, babe? I don’t want you out of my sight while the gods grant me eyes to see you.” And he dares to wink at me. I hate that he’s told me to stay. I hate that he’s joking and winking at me. And I love him for it. He’s incredibly perfect in his very nature of existing. He’s perfect in his uniqueness. He burns so bright. So bright at times he hurts my eyes. Makes my heart ache from his grace.

“Cuddle up here, brother,” Rogue says, patting the spot beside him. He makes to sit up, but like he’s overly weighted by his head, lies back down, black hair crushing into the pillow. Zack settles next to him.

“I wish I could tell you I was faking my death again,” Rogue says, choking out a laugh.

“Stop it, Rogue!” I scream.

His eyes slide to me, a crooked smile on his face. “Stop eavesdropping, Em.”

“You made me stay,” I seethe.

“That I did.” He turns his gaze back in Zack’s direction and encourages him forward. Zack leans in closer and then Rogue whispers something. At least a few sentences. Whatever he says causes Zack to jerk back. Then he looks at me over his shoulder, disbelief screwing his face into something strange.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says directly to Rogue.

“Oh, yes, brother,” Rogue mouths.

“Damn it, Rogue. Are you out of your mind?” Zack says.

“Most definitely,” he says loud enough that I can hear him.

“Rogue, this isn’t a conversation we should be having right now.”

“It’s the perfect time for it. I’m not gonna have another opportunity to urge you to take chances.”

“I take chances all the time,” Zack says.

“Not the ones that really count.”

“Not in a million years, Rogue.”

“You forget, I’ve seen the future,” he says, a look of pride on his stretched face. “However, I kinda think we need to have this conversation to get things rolling. But it’s so hard to know the ingredients that make certain futures come to pass.”

Zack shakes his head. “Rogue, it’s still not going to happen.”

“You really gonna decline a dying man’s wish?”

I wheel around, unable to stomach his words. My hand clutching for the door handle.

“Stop right there, Em,” Rogue says. I freeze and it takes more power to turn around and face him than I used to fry the TV station antenna with electricity. His eyes have the wrong effect on me. They grind me to a powder and his smile is the breath that sends me in all directions. “Please don’t leave,” Rogue says.

Everything is wrong in this moment. The causal manner Rogue regards me with. Zack’s tormented expression, which he covers at once by turning away. And my cold heart that feels dry and barren and absent of the ability to cry. “I only need a minute,” I finally say. But what I don’t say is I need that minute to feel human, to come to terms with what’s happened too fast, to understand something that feels impossible.

“Take it later,” Rogue says simply. “Don’t leave now.”

Unable to control my limbs or the hostile energy bounding out of my chest I kick my foot straight into the wall. It stares back at me unharmed, but my foot screams from the altercation. I set it down and press my weight on it, unwilling to show my pain to anyone right now. Thankfully the same wall I just assaulted allows me to lean my weight on it, supporting me when I’m a second away from crumbling.

I allow my eyes to fall on Rogue’s and for a brief moment he fails to cover his real emotions with a fake one. Regret. It fills every feature on his face. Regret, like a drum whose beat shakes the earth I stand on, reverberates across the room. Rocks me where I stand, but I stand. Staring at him, unmoving. I’m afraid to show Rogue who I am in this moment. Afraid I’m losing myself. I want to run. But I stand frozen, knowing in all realities the only place I’ll run to is his arms. My greatest place of regret. His arms.

He fastens his eyes on Zack. “Definitely think about what I said.”

Zack nods, his slick blond hair unresponsive to the movement. I turn back away when Rogue hoists himself up with great difficulty. I know what’s coming next and I can’t bear it. I bury my face in the wall, the place I’ve abused and turned to for support. And the sound of a palm clapping one of their backs actually makes me cough out a small tear. It’s too small. Hardly exists in this moment of gigantic emotions. Somehow, even with my slow, delayed movements, I turn in time to watch Zack stand and walk away. He doesn’t glance in my direction. His expression is glass. Reflective and transparent at the same time.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Rogue and I stare at each other, a host of emotions communicated silently. My hands find the grooves of the wall behind me, snake along them. In the dim light of Parker’s bedroom Rogue looks as he always has, but he’s different. Maybe it’s the pain medicine, but he appears to be imprisoned on the bed and it’s such a strange thing to witness. His limbs and his neck move, but I know instinctively that he can’t get out of this bed right now. Won’t ever. I hiccup from the aching thought.

“Come here, Em,” Rogue says in a soft raspy voice.

“No,” I say, my irrational anger directed at Rogue who lies helplessly in Parker’s bed.

“Are you mad at me for dying?” he says, a curious humor in his voice.

“No,” I say, looking directly at him, holding my head up until it’s even against the wall. “I’m mad at you for allowing me to fall in love with you.”

All humor drops from his face. “What?”

“You knew you were going to die. All along…”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And you let me get close to you, knowing what would happen. Knowing—” Suddenly the air is knocked out of me by an invisible source. My words are sucked away as I gasp for breath. For a full ten seconds I try and fail to fill my lungs with oxygen. Finally between hyperventilated breaths the rest of my words seep out of me. “Knowing it would break me in two, you encouraged me to love you.”

“I’m guilty as charged,” Rogue says, no smile present on his stress-creased face. “I plead selfishness. But don’t those who die young deserve to be loved?”

I scream. And expect that a thousand tears will be unleashed but it’s a dry yell, bringing nothing with it. “You could have told me. Could have warned me.”

“You’re right, and you have my apologies,” he says too casually. “But in my defense I did try to push you away in the beginning, at least keep you at a distance.”

“Rogue…”

“Em, do you regret a minute of it? Are you saying you’d take it back? Erase our love?”

Three times I try and unsuccessfully gulp down pain. “Rogue,” I say again.

“Do you regret loving me?” And now all humor is gone from his gruff voice.

“No, of course not,” I say and grasp for the tears that exist somewhere in my being. Each time I grab for them they disappear. “I’d love you again in a thousand different lives knowing I’d lose you. Again and again I’d love you only to lose you.”

“Then don’t be mad.”

“How can I not be mad?!” I scream. The space between us is too vast, but I can’t will my feet forward. “How can I not curse the gods for doing this? Forsake them and burn their city to the ground?” And then the tears finally come, all wrong, in a rush to compete to be the first. Tear after tear after tear, so painful I think they’ll break my eyes as they rush to the surface. I gulp in breaths that are unfulfilling and only give life to the tears which burn as they erupt.

With an effort that makes him grimace Rogue pushes up into a half seated position, silencing my tears. “Nothing has been done yet,” he says and holds out his hand to me. “We still have right now.”

“But it’s going to end, and you’re going to leave me,” I say, half covering my face.

“Gods, Em, if I had a choice I’d do anything to stay by your side.”

I choke on a long sob, one that threatens to scar my throat. Rogue’s eyes pinch slightly, an acute ache in them. And yet he remains mostly cool and steady in this raw moment.

“You’re allowed to hate me and the gods for the rest of your long life,” he says when I’ve calmed my tears. “But also remember the gods brought you to me. For that I love them because you created purpose in my life. Meaning. You’re the reason I continue to breathe when I think my time is up.”

With the same tenacity that held me to the wall, I’m propelled forward. I now rush to him, all boundaries forgotten. In seconds his arms are around me. “I love you, Rogue,” I say, cradling his face in my hands. “I will always love you. I could never hate you. You’re my freedom in this prison. You’re my salvation.”

I swallow his kisses with my own, which taste of tears and reek of pain and tenderness and hold an edge of finality. Rogue pushes back into me with a fervent need that encourages my heart. Makes me believe this is all a mistake. He moves with energy, grips me with a need of a man full of life. I pull back to regard him from only an inch away. I’ve always enjoyed this view. And now it brings a tear so heavy to my eye that it weighs down my chin where it lands and my heart where it originated. Rogue raises his fingers to my chin, an action that seems to take an eternity. Still there’s a grace to his hand as he wipes the tear off my chin.

I crawl more completely into his arms, which are large and yet oozing with exhaustion as they wrap around me. Slowly I bring my body alongside his, until I’m wrapped in his arms. And then he slides his head up, positioning mine under his chin. From my place, resting my ear on his chest, I hear the best sound in the world. His heartbeat. It still beats. Soft, but steady. I unbutton his shirt and slide my hand onto the place above his heart where my name permanently resides on his skin. He claps his hand over mine and smiles into my hair. “My heart. You are my heart. And I will always love you, my beautiful Em.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Instinctively I knew the breath that was his last. Felt it like a dying wind. Rogue made to press me into him but lost his grip halfway. And twice his heart beat and then no more. I lay in Rogue’s arms until right before he grew cold. I want to remember him warm.

The only way I’d ever believe Rogue actually died this time is to see it with my own eyes. After believing he died once and found out it was a lie, I’m hard to convince. But I know what life in Rogue looks like. And I know with such certainty that the man who lies before me is dead. Still beautiful in death though.

I’d managed to contain myself as Rogue held me. But away from him, and after witnessing his heart burn out, my anger and hatred erupts. Not at Rogue or the gods, but at who is really responsible for my pain, my loss.

I swing the door open to find Zack standing petrified in front of me. His eyes slide to Rogue lying on the bed behind me. Dead. Zack’s mouth tightens into a thin line. Then his eyes fall on me. He does something strange. Something I’ve rarely seen him do. He opens his arms to me, welcoming my pain where it will have the company of his own. But I shake my head and stalk past him, uninterested in being comforted right now.

“Where are you going?” he asks, a roughness to his voice.

“I have to go,” I say, moving forward through the long hallway.

“Are you leaving the Valley?”

“No,” I say, that single word filled to the brim with hostility.

“But President Vider—”

“Parker,” I say, knowing he’s down the hall listening. The doctor walks out of his office and stands looking at me awkwardly. “You’re going to have Rogue’s body moved to his father’s doorstep tonight.” I know the thought would be atrocious to some, but as Reverians we know bodies are useless cavities without the soul. We don’t bury our dead. And in this case I’m going to use it as a message. “I want the President to know his son is dead. Then he’ll know Rogue can’t turn himself in. He’ll know his threat to kill innocent Middling babies is useless.” I stalk past Parker, not waiting for a reply.

“He’ll think he’s won,” Zack argues.

“Exactly,” I say, already at the end of the hallway. Behind me I hear quick steps.

“Where are you going though?”

“There’s a war coming, Zack,” I say, whipping around to face him. “I’m going to prepare for it.”

“What? How do you know how President Vider will react to the attack on the labs? How do you know he’ll cause a war when he has so many other problems to worry about?” Zack says.

“Oh, he won’t. And you’re right, he’s going to be scrambling to control the population. Which is great for me because I need an army if I’m going to lead this war.” I turn and march out the front door of Parker’s house, walking with a new angry confidence.

Keep Reading for the Next Installment in the Reverians Series!

Acknowledgements:

The first thanks for this book goes to my readers. I can’t even begin to describe how much fun it is to share my books with you all. When I came up with the idea for dream traveling I wasn’t sure if it was a good one or ridiculous. You all like it and relate and describe similar experiences. So if I’m crazy, so are you. I like being in the same club with my readers, since they’re pretty much the smartest people I know.

A gigantic thank you to Dominic and Maja for moderating and running the Goodreads fan group. And thank you to the members! I have such fun interacting with y’all. And thank you for the fantastic support and encouragement. Love you!

Thank you to my editor Christine LePorte. All my readers should know that I have absolutely no idea what a comma is. If commas are in my book it is because that lovely lady makes my work so polished.

Thank you to Andrei Bat for the gorgeous cover. I know I wear you out with changes. There’s times where I’m glad you’re a continent away or otherwise I think you’d hunt me down and tell me off.

A giant thank you to my first chair beta reader, Colleen. What would I do without you? Well, I’d have no one to agree with me on my flawless reasoning. Twins from another mother and father, that’s what we are. No one gets us completely because they’re all wrong, all the time.

Thank you to my awesome beta readers Heidi, Katy and Kelly. All of you made such bold threats regarding my safety after you beta read this book. But still I love you and I’m glad you continue to help me. I need it.

Thank you to the awesome bloggers who I couldn’t do this without. Heidi, Melinda, Shemelle, Jordan, Anna, Katy, Alma, Katy, Shannon, Krista, Chelsea, Kariny. You all are awesome and make my job easier and way more fun. If I forgot someone then I’ll just dedicate the next book to you. Just send me a note about it.

Thank you to my wonderful friends. I told you all I was a writer and you still love me. Well, the ones who don’t will be put in a book and killed, so there’s that. Anyway, thank you to all my lovely friends. You make me feel so loved.

Thank you to my family for all the support. You like my friends, don’t think it’s strange that I’m using a graduate degree in management to write YA fantasy books. Love you!

If my books are any good at all it is for the sole reason that I have a fantastic husband who keeps encouraging me. He’s read all my books, even the ones I refuse to publish. Luke, you believe in me more than I believe in myself. Thank you for all that you do. I love you.

And the final thank you goes to the little girl who inspires all my stories. Lydia, one day, when you’re much older, I hope you read my books. I dearly hope you enjoy the stories I’ve written. And I hope they make you proud.

One-Twenty-Six Press.

Warriors

Sarah Noffke

Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Noffke

All rights reserved

Copyeditor: Christine LePorte

Cover Design: Andrei Bat

All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Summary:

Austin Valley appears as it always has, but Em Fuller knows that appearances aren’t what they seem. She knows under the surface, that cracks are starting to form in this seemingly well-manicured society. She’s responsible for creating these cracks and for planting a slow dissension among many of the residents of this once happy city. Broken in a way Em never thought possible, she turns into a well-calculated, strategic leader. With the help of the brightest minds in Austin Valley, Em begins building an army whose only purpose is to protect the population of Austin Valley from their President, Victor Vider. Em firmly believes the success of her army is inevitable, that is until a new blow strikes her heart and she questions whether she has the tenacity to go on.

Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press

ISBN: 978-0-9862080-8-9

For Edie and Randy.

WARRIORS

Chapter One

I’m shocked. Three months after Rogue’s death and nothing appears different in Austin Valley. Three months after we destroyed the majority of the cerevitium stored in the lab and there isn’t a trace that one thing has shifted. Three months after we learned so many critical truths about Vider’s corrupt campaign and everything feels the same in town. I’m shocked, but I’m not sad about it in the least. I’m proud. We’ve done our job. Covered our tracks. The Valley looks as it always has, with its perfect rounded edges and starched appearance. There’s no hint that under the surface a war is brewing. No one would ever know that behind the manicured homes and polite manners, many of the residents of Austin Valley are having rebellious thoughts.

After we destroyed roughly eighty percent of the cerevitium in the lab Vider called for drastic measures. I knew he would. However, I underestimated him. I didn’t fathom that upon waking up to find his son dead on his doorstep and an entire year’s supply of cerevitium destroyed, he’d order the entire Defect population to be converted to Middling immediately. It was upon learning that news that I realized how little we’d thought through our plan. We thought we could take his ammunition and that he’d run for cover. We never considered that this would encourage him to bring out his bombs and cannons.

I wasn’t unprepared for Vider’s command to sever dream travel abilities from over a thousand young adults. After witnessing Rogue die in my arms and walking out of Parker’s house, I’d wasted no time preparing for the attack I knew would come. And because of that I was able to act fast. Now thanks to Ren, most Defects have been saved from conversion. Thanks to my uncle, I’ve been able to infiltrate the department where converting happens and intercept Defects before a part of their brains is irreparably cut away. Most Defects, after listening to me, have consented to my plan and the dangers it promises, and therefore they have escaped conversion. Most.

However, the Conversion department can only handle so many. The rest of the Defects are still being injected with the cerevitium that we failed to destroy the night we broke into the lab. This will be the case until they can be converted. And every day more cerevitium is produced to ensure these Defects’ gifts are suppressed until their conversion happens.

Parker’s patients are the exception to this. Three months ago they received the same news and decision I give to those facing conversion. And if they decided not to receive their injections anymore then they know they must play the act, the same as all the Rebels. Nona, my sister, serves as a perfect example. She’s a Defect who is supposed to still be receiving the injections and yet Parker hasn’t stuck her with a needle in three months. And for most of that time she’s had her gift, but no one knows that. They all look at her with troubled eyes, the same way they’ve always regarded Defects. Most Reverians can’t wait until all Defects are converted and therefore ridded from our society.

The whole population of Defects and converted Middlings looks the same but I know that inside something different is pulsing in their brains. Not Vider’s voice, but mine. The speech I gave them runs on the inside track of their brain. I’m the one encoding their thoughts but I did it through dispelling the lies, the ones Vider has told them since they were born. I did it through giving them what they wanted. Each and every one of these Defects has what they’ve craved. It’s not what Vider promised: safety, love, happiness, security. It’s something purer. Richer. Unique. In compensation for their compliance I gave these Defects their gifts. I showed them how to find them. How to hide them and therefore keep them. I gave them that which belonged to them.

And now, because I have a population of Defects, and Defects who everyone thought were converted to Middlings, I also have an army. An army of ready, capable, and motivated individuals who all see the truth. Who all feel robbed. Who are all ready for revenge and waiting for my signal to attack the President.

But we aren’t ready. We need people to join us. Without these people we’re useless. We’ll squander our chances. Without them we are just a bunch of kids with superpowers. We need a force. One that can persevere against any power and has throughout the history of mankind.

We need Middlings.

Chapter Two

“Em, you’re doing it all wrong,” Soon-hee, Parker’s mother, says to me, the scowl heavy in her tone. Her bushy eyebrows are pinned up high, close to her graying hairline.

“How hard is it to feed chickens?” I say, dumping the rest of the feed into the trough.

“According to your imbecilic move it’s exceptionally hard,” the old woman says to me, scooping the feed back out of the chicken feeder with her wrinkled hands and into a pail. She shakes her head and mumbles something under her breath in Korean.

I stand regarding her with a small bit of amusement and huge bout of exhaustion. The sun is already setting and after the long ride with the old lady barking orders in my ear the entire way, I’m way more tired than I am on a usual trip back to Rogue’s fa—my farm.

“Don’t you see that you’ve fed them too much?” she says, waving her hands at the overflowing trough of grains.

“They never seem to complain,” I say through a long yawn.

She shakes her head, her shoulder-length black and gray hair swaying with the movement. Clicks her tongue three times in disapproval. “A fat hen isn’t necessarily a happy one,” she says, her Korean accent heavy in her words. I understand most of what she says, although her words are usually a bit muddled between her urge to throw them at me and also keep them in a language I can understand. Parker’s mother is nothing like him. She’s isn’t polite or complacent or nice, like the good doctor. And even still, she brings a smile to my face more than most people these days. I think I’m endeared to ornery old ladies. “You fed them too much,” she repeats.

“They don’t have to eat it. Aren’t animals natural about consuming in moderation anyway?” I say, making for the gate, intent on lying in bed and resting my aching back.

“Not ones that live in captivity and don’t have to fend for themselves, Em,” she says, marching up next to me. For almost seventy years old she’s fast and has a spirit I don’t think can be broken. I hope it can’t.

“Reverians live in captivity and don’t have to fend for themselves and they don’t get fat,” I say, stopping to regard the woman who’s about a foot shorter than me.

She straightens, pulling her shoulders back as she does. “And are these hens ruled by corrupt dictator who makes demands on every part of their life and forces them to act only in ways he sees fit?”

I roll my eyes. “No, they’re ruled by Steven the rooster. He’s pretty laid back as far as roosters go, I guess, but what do I know?” I say.

“Not a damn thing, as far as I can tell,” Soon-hee says, pushing the pail into my arms and trudging toward the house.

I take my time circling back to the house, returning the feed to the barn and taking a stop off to see the goats. Jasmine, my goat, is just as happy as ever to see me. Each visit she bounds at me, finally knocking me over when she arrives at my hip. She’s grown and her coat is coarser these days. I give her only enough attention to allow her to let me go off to the house without “mawing” at me too much. By the time I return to the house I find that the old woman is curled up in my bed and snoring. I guess, although she’s unwilling to admit it, that Soon-hee is pretty tired from the whole day of riding. We only just arrived an hour ago and although I know she wanted to get a full tour of the farm we only managed the house and the chicken pen. I’ll have to leave her to care for things tomorrow, but judging by her behavior tonight I think she’ll do fine.

I’ve been returning in physical form to the farm every week. I’m able to keep up with the day-to-day jobs just fine while dream traveling, yet that doesn’t offer the animals the care and attention they deserve. And also, my dream travel attention can be used in other places, securing our footing in this war. For all those reasons I recruited Soon-hee, Parker’s mother, to help me out with the farm. Her husband died a month ago and since then I’ve watched her grow restless. Each secret meeting to Parker’s house I’d spy her in the background listening and looking at me with strange eyes. Parker worked hard to keep the truth from his parents. He didn’t want them to know what kind of President’s rule they lived under. But just as poor Parker has had to learn too many times, he doesn’t see things quite clearly. His parents have known for quite some time what kind of dictator Vider is, but have felt powerless against him. They were content to live in the modest home they were assigned as long as their overworked son was happy. And they weren’t different from many wise people in the Reverian population.

One night I spied Soon-hee’s curious eyes poking through a crack along the door and knew then what her role would be. Since her husband’s passing she was fidgety. She had months to prepare for his passing and almost looked relieved when it happened. So after the meeting I bolted through that door to find her scrambling back and pretending to be inspecting the nearby wall. “I have a question for you,” I said, pinning my hands on my hips.

“I wasn’t listening,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “I was just wondering if this wall looks slanted. Does it look that way to you?”

I shook my head. “That’s not my question. I want to know if you will watch over Rogue’s farm.”

“Why would you think I’d have any interest in that?” she asked, scurrying around, pretending to be tidying up an already tidy house.

“Because I’ve seen pictures of you in the house. You grew up on a farm, didn’t you?”

“Oh, Ji-hoon shouldn’t be so sloppy with my effects. How dare he?” she said, referring to her son by his Korean name.

I’d actually spied the album laid out in Parker’s suitcase when I’d confronted him about trying to escape the Valley. It was that night I convinced him to stay, that I convinced him to take on such an important role.

“Do you want to do it or not?” I asked, growing impatient with the woman I later learned like to play games with conversation.

“Why do you think I want to take care of some dead man’s farm?” she asked, batting her straight long eyelashes at me.

“Because your husband has died as well and you look like you need something to keep you out of trouble.”

“That’s true, I do like farms. Know them well,” she said, all the while keeping a causal manner like we were discussing lunch. “Even so, it’s some dead man’s farm. Seems a bit strange.”

“It’s my farm,” I said, trying to loosen the knot in my throat.

“Oh, really?” she said, a ring of doubt in her voice. “Tell me more.”

Rogue knew exactly what he was doing when he convinced me to say the farm was mine too. I was reluctant. Not just reluctant, I was mortified to accept such an honor from him. At the time I thought he was being romantic. Little did I know that he knew he was going to die and was ensuring that by me accepting a partnership with the farm I would take care of it after his death.

“Look,” I said with slow restraint to the woman who was trying my patience. “I own full rights to the farm.” And it was true. Rogue had seen to it. “It’s mine and I need someone capable to care for the animals and garden every day. If you want the job then I’ll take you there. Your husband has passed and Vider will think nothing of you going off to live with your family in the south. It’s the perfect excuse. But if you’re not interested then save me time and trouble and tell me now. No more games.”

Soon-hee didn’t give me an answer. She simply turned around and strolled off. I was in the kitchen discussing options with Parker when she materialized a half an hour later with a small duffel bag under her arm. “How do we get there because I want to leave now,” she said, a small laugh in her voice.

We rode most of the night and day to arrive here and I still don’t know if I’m making the right choice by allowing Soon-hee to manage the farm. But I do know I have to give my full attention to the war. And there’s no way in the world I can give up Rogue’s farm. I need it. I need to return here as often as necessary and know it’s being cared for. I need to return here and feel him as I have every week since his death. Forever and ever I need this farm. It’s something I’m assigning to someone else for now, but forever and ever it’s mine. It, like Rogue’s heart, belongs to me.

Chapter Three

I was going to leave a note with instructions for Soon-hee so I could make an early departure, but she was up before me, banging pots and the kettle around before sunset. I pop up from my spot on the couch in a panic. The old woman’s eyes land on me with a satisfied expression.

“Oh, did I wake you up?” she asks, zero sympathy in her voice.

“I think you woke up the people in town five miles away.”

“Serves them right for sleeping when there’s things to be done,” she says, shaking her head like she’s seriously deliberating on these lazy people sleeping at five in the morning.

I nod and trudge toward the bedroom to dress and get ready for the long day of riding. A sharp spasm shoots through my back and I stop and reach for it like I might find a knife there. The muscle is tight under my fingers.

“That’s what you get for sleeping on lumpy sofa,” Soon-hee says over the whistle of the kettle.

“What was I supposed to do, cuddle up in bed with you?” I say.

“The floor is much better option. The hardwood is good for your spine. Provides support,” she says.

“Then why didn’t you sleep there?” I say, pushing my tangled hair out of my face.

“Old back needs less support and old mind needs more comfort.”

I sniff and give a mock look of irritation. Doing the ride on back-to-back days is not going to be easy on my body but I need to return as quickly as possible. There are new Defects being brought in for conversion and it’s my job to give them the “choice” to be converted to a Middling or live the lie and be ready to rebel when the time comes. I can almost time the look of disbelief that surfaces on Defects’ faces when I tell them they’ve received painful injections to suppress their gifts, not to help them achieve them. None of them want to believe at first that they’ve been tortured for all their young adult lives just so they couldn’t use their powers to rebel. Then as I cite the evidence their expression slowly morphs into astonishment, then fury, and finally vengeance. It’s beautiful to watch. I love my job.

I’m dressed and back in the kitchen within three minutes. I need to refill my canteen and food supplies and then get Em, my horse, ready for the ride.

“You didn’t brush your hair,” Soon-hee says to me with a blatant look of disapproval.

“I brushed my teeth though,” I say, flashing a toothy grin at her.

“But your hair…”

“Oh, what’s the point,” I say, shoving a strand of loose curls off my shoulder. “It’s not like it can be controlled anyway. And I’m just going to tie it up as soon as I get going.”

“The point is you’re going to show up looking like mess.”

I give her a blank stare. “And…?”

“And who’s going to take you seriously as romantic prospect if you look like dirty cowgirl?”

A laugh bursts from my mouth. “I’m leading a war. I’m trying to free thousands of Defects from abuse and even more Middlings from brainwashing. My dance card is the last thing on my mind right now,” I say.

Soon-hee shakes her head and hands me a steaming cup of tea; it’s something herbal with spicy overtones. She must have brought it with her in her meager bag. “Drink that. It will keep up your energy and also is good for improving fertility.”

Tea spurts out of my mouth as I choke on a cough. “Are you hard of hearing or is your understanding of English that bad?”

A sliver of a smile etches her thin lips.

“My fertility is the last of my concerns,” I say, embarrassment making my face flush with heat.

“Just because that boy died doesn’t mean you have to let romance die for you too,” Soon-hee says.

“Rogue wasn’t a boy,” I say, bitterness taking residence in my tone.

She shrugs me off as she stirs something in a pot. “Young-chol, Ji-hoon’s father, was my second husband. My first died when we’d only been married a year.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”

“It was,” she says matter-of-factly. “But hearts mend. You think they won’t. You fear what you will be if they do. Are you heartless to move on? That’s what you wonder. What will people think if you aren’t always grieving? But you are human. Born to love.” She has abandoned the simmering pot of whatever and is now digging in her bag. Her words stir something in me and I find myself agreeing with a nod. I grab the protein bars I keep in the cupboard and stick them in my bag.

Soon-hee points to the protein bar I hold in my hand. “That stuff isn’t real food. I won’t even tell you how bad it blocks up your intestines,” she says, brandishing a comb and making for my hair.

“I think you just did,” I say and duck away from her attempts to run the comb through my long hair. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a comb. You’ve seen one before, haven’t you, Em?”

I shake my head with a laugh and strap the bag across my back. “Let’s play beauty parlor the next time I visit. I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, dropping the comb on the counter. “When should I expect you back?”

“Not sure. Depends on when I can get away. Our next dream travel meeting is in a week though. You can let me know how it’s going then and if you have any problems.”

We set up a schedule for Soon-hee and me to meet by dream traveling to this house every Saturday night. I can check on the house and animals for a little peace of mind and she can give me her long list of complaints and demands.

“And during these meetings you can tell me how it’s going as well,” she says with a strange wink and giddy smile.

“What? How the war effort is going?” I ask, confused by her behavior, which I rarely understand.

“No,” she says, waving her hand through the air. “Who cares about that?”

“Uhhh…I do. I’m kind of staking my life on it.”

She shakes her head. “I meant how it’s going with my son. Clever thinking on your part.”

I stare at her again vacantly. “What are you talking about?”

“Getting me out of the house. Much more romantic for you two,” she says.

My mouth pops open. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You think Parker and I have something going on?”

She taps the side of her head with two fingers. “I know.”

“Well, I hate to be the one to break this news to you, but you’re going senile, Soon-hee.”

She giggles, one that makes her look suddenly twenty years younger. “Oh, then why you come to house all the time? Always demanding things from Ji-hoon? You even convinced him to stay and not leave Valley,” she says with a triumphant conviction.

“Because,” I say slowly, “I’m leading a war and I need Parker. He’s playing a critical role.”

“Aw,” she says with enthusiasm. “You only one to call him that. Everyone else call him doctor.”

“He asked me to.”

“That’s because he want you to see him as a man, not your doctor. Umma know,” she says proudly, patting her chest.

I shake my head at her. “Parker and I are only working together and besides, he’s so much older than me. We’re friends.”

“He’s not too much older. He’s smart. Graduate young.”

“Look, you really should stop taking all those herbs. I think they’re messing with your head.”

“Yes, sure,” she says, giving me a knowing nod. “I crazy old lady who know nothing. You smart young girl who know everything.”

“Yes, exactly. Thanks for getting it so quickly,” I say, readjusting my bag. “I’ve got to go. Take care of the animals. Ride Zack if you need to go to town. I left you instructions on the table.”

“Oh, yes. An old Korean lady riding an Arabian horse into town. That will draw no attention.”

“Well, then go without toilet paper. I don’t care.” I turn and head for the door.

“Oh, Em?”

“Yes,” I say, daring to turn around. Soon-hee is wearing a cunning smile. “He make good husband. Strong loins. Smart genes.”

I shake my head at her. “Yeah, but crazy runs in the family for sure,” I say as I rush out the door, wintery winds blasting me in the face.

Chapter Four

Only stopping once, I arrive back in Austin Valley the next morning. Twice I almost nodded off while Em managed the rough Oregon terrain. That’s when I stopped to give her a break while I peeled off my outer shirt and jacket and other layers until I was down to only a tank top. I figured if I was freezing my tail off then I’d be less likely to accidentally fall asleep, which would probably result in me falling from the horse and sustaining multiple injuries, if not death.

The hike back into the Valley threatens to undo me, to conquer my resilient motivation. I almost wish Soon-hee was alongside me, complaining about how slow and weak I am. She made this hike out of the Valley actually look easy, which surprised me since I was sure I’d have to assist her on the eight-mile trek.

One more step, I tell myself. And another and another. Just take it one step at a time.

I’m too sluggish to hide properly from passersby, as I usually do when traveling through the Valley. For this reason I take the longer, less traveled route, along the bordering outskirts of the town. It adds another half mile to my journey. My legs feel like lead by the time I take the last step of this round trip and clamber through Zack’s back door. He’s at work. I should be too. Who knows how long Ren can delay conversions during my absence.

Shaking the exhaustion from my body, I head straight for the shower. It’s the only way I know how to make myself feel brand new again after the last few long days. My bed, draped with an overstuffed down comforter, looks like a frosted cake to a starving human right now. I’d give almost anything to crawl between the covers and hibernate for the next twelve hours. I’d give almost anything, but not the freedom of my people, so I trudge past the bed with one last look of longing and into the bathroom.

For the first month following Rogue’s death I lived in the old campgrounds. I needed to be close to the Valley for the war efforts, but I also craved the idea of living alone. It was critical that as often as possible I was alone with my pain. Somehow my instinct told me to become acquainted with the pain. When in the company of others I forced it to the bottom of my soul, but alone I wore it on the surface, feeling it like a constant companion. The first time I lost Rogue, when I was thirteen, I cried for a solid week. I wasn’t afforded that luxury now. The Defects couldn’t see their leader as a grief-stricken, blubbering mess. And so I created a divide.

Winter then swept through the Valley, covering everything with a fine layer of frost each morning. Up in the hills, I found it impossible to get warm enough to sleep through the night. All my nights were spent dream traveling, but never to anywhere exotic or fun. I traveled to dark alleys in the inner cities or abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of a rundown rural area. My eyes couldn’t bear to see things full of color and life.

Zack began to urge me to move out of the campground and into his house. He worried that the cold was going to make me sick. His face was etched with concern at our every meeting.

“You can’t have me here full-time,” I told him after he all but demanded that I stop taking the three-mile trek every night to shiver alone in a tent. “It’s too risky. Someone might see me and then your cover will be blown.”

“Then it will be blown and I’ll deal with the repercussions,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re putting your body through unnecessary stress. Six miles of hiking a day. No running water. No heat. It’s insane, Em. It’s illogical.”

I swallowed down a tender bit of stubborn pride. In my mind I saw myself alone with my pain and the tears. It was my nightly ritual to cuddle up with the two until the shivering took over my thoughts, distracting me from the loss. Bitterly, I shook my head at Zack.

He pressed his eyelids together and sighed. When he opened them there was a new spark there. “Look, think about how much more productive you can be if you don’t have to commute in and out of the Valley every day. If you’re rested then you’ll be even more effective.” His voice was coated in a convincing tone. It almost won me over immediately, but my pride was strong. It knew what I wanted more than anything.

“I can’t stay here. I need to be alone. It’s for my own good,” I said, turning to face the covered window. We kept them all closed all the time, so no one ever spied me in the house. I wanted sunlight. I wanted to feel the house open and airy. And I wanted that for Zack too. He couldn’t live properly with me here.

A whole minute passed before Zack spoke. “Fine. But I wish you’d stop grieving alone. You’re not the only one who cared about him.”

I swung around to catch Zack’s denim-blue eyes swelled with tears. He blinked rapidly and strode for the kitchen.

Him. That’s how Zack always referred to Rogue. He never said his name, only used nondescript pronouns. It felt as though, for Zack, if he said Rogue’s name, something would be final about his death. I, on the other hand, said his name too much. I referenced him in my speeches in the meetings. I referred to him when speaking to the Defects and also in casual conversation. For me, I needed to talk about Rogue. To keep his memory alive in me.

I knew, not by looking out the window, but rather by the clock on the wall, that the sun was setting. It was time for me to leave the Valley. I had a long-standing appointment with my pain. We always rendezvoused at the same time. What would it be like if I changed our meeting location? Would I even be able to feel my grief here inside of Zack’s house? Would I allow myself?

As quietly as I could I padded to the kitchen and opened the swinging door a few inches. I could just barely make out Zack leaning his back against the countertop, his head in his hands. Heavy breaths made his chest rise and fall. Inside me something suddenly chiseled away, making it clear who I’d become. I was a statue to the Rebels, but Zack knew I was laced with cracks. And ever since I could remember, Zack had always been like me. He too appeared as hard as rock, but I knew better. I just hadn’t allowed myself to see it until just then. I’d been too consumed with my own pain, selfishly harboring it.

I pushed the door all the way open and stood staring at Zack. He didn’t look up at me, although I’m certain he knew I was there. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

His hands slipped from his face as he simultaneously turned, putting his back to me. Pinning his palms on the countertop he took a deep shuddering breath. “It’s fine, Em.”

It was always fine with Zack. Always. But it wasn’t fine this time. When Rogue disappeared, when we were younger, Zack and I bonded. We spent every spare minute talking, grieving, healing together. But this time I retreated. I left him alone to mourn. And I think I even convinced myself that my pain was greater than his this time. How could anyone love Rogue more than I did? But that was a fatal error because Rogue was infectious. Everyone loved him. Well, not his father, but everyone else who knew Rogue was instantly endeared to him. And Zack especially shared a bond with Rogue. A brotherly one that I didn’t even understand.

I walked until I was next to Zack. His posture straightened. I slipped my hand on to his and squeezed. “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“It’s fine,” Zack said through gritted teeth. He was trying hard to hold back his emotions, his disappointment.

“No it’s not. The way I’ve retreated isn’t fine. I ran away. And I shouldn’t have. I should have been here for you. I should have let you be there for me. Allow me to be sorry for that,” I said.

Zack turned and regarded me with heavy eyes. “Em, we all have to grieve in our own ways. I don’t fault you for that.”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? But I fault me. I haven’t been a good friend,” I said.

“How are you?” he asked, searching my eyes. “The truth.”

It was such a simple question and one I hadn’t even given Zack the opportunity to ask me in a month’s time. And such a simple question brought a torrent of tears to my eyes. Without an answer I rushed forward, burying my sopping cheeks in his shirt. His arms wrapped around me and it was then that I realized this was the first time I’d allowed anyone to hug me since Rogue died. Nona tried. Zack tried. Hell, even Parker offered me a hug a few days after Rogue died. But I refused contact. Refused to acknowledge openly that I would need the comfort of others.

Finally, after a full minute of sobbing in his arms, I pushed back, my face hot from tears. “I’m awful and finally ready to admit it.” Zack stared down at me with a tender remorse and nodded. “How are you?” I asked.

He stepped back a few more inches and drilled his gaze at the floor. Shook his head as if in disbelief. “It feels like a cruel joke. He was gone and then back and now he’s gone again. It’s unfair,” Zack said.

I nodded, noting the way he still didn’t say Rogue’s name.

“The night Rogue died,” I said, my voice feeling tattered, “he whispered something to you. What was it?”

Zack’s eyes tightened. “He wasn’t speaking rationally. He was drugged.”

“But what did he say?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Zack said.

“Not now?” I asked.

“Not ever.”

The finality of his statement sent me on a more fervent hunt for the information. “He said you don’t take chances. I heard that part,” I said, eyeing Zack, waiting to watch him squirm.

He didn’t give me the reaction I was hoping for. Instead, he dismissed me with a rough shake of his head. “Like I said, he wasn’t speaking logically. He was incoherent. Of course I take risks.”

I scrutinized him for a few seconds. “Rogue was completely coherent. You forget I was there when he died.”

“I would never forget that,” Zack said, and again I saw the pain he’d been harboring, not properly dealing with. It reminded me so much of my own grief.

And then a strange guilt crawled up the inside of my chest. “I’m sorry for asking about what Rogue said to you,” I said, realizing at once how personal a moment that must have been for the two of them.

“Em,” Zack said, looking at me. “It’s getting late. If you’re hiking to camp I want you to leave soon.”

I reached out and slid my hand into his. “Why would I leave when I obviously need to stay with my best friend?”

A relieved smile touched his mouth. “Thank the gods. I finally won’t have to worry about you out there all night.”

Chapter Five

I slide in through the back entrance to the lab for the Conversion department. It’s supposed to be solely for deliveries. Ren waits in his normal spot. His back is leaned up against the tiled wall, knee bent and foot kicked up behind him.

“You’re late,” he says when his eyes land on me. I’m breathless from jogging all the way here.

“Oh, how did I sleep? I didn’t,” I say to him. “How am I feeling? Exhausted. Thanks for asking.”

He rolls his emerald green eyes and kicks off the wall. “Just because you had to break in a new housekeeper doesn’t mean I need to show you any sympathies.”

“What’s it going to take to earn an ounce of your sympathy?” I say.

He strokes his red goatee, staring off with deliberate consideration. Finally he throws his hand in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got absolutely nothing. Maybe something will come to me.”

“I doubt it,” I say, taking off down the sterile white hallway.

“If anyone deserves sympathy then it’s me,” Ren says, ambling up next to me. “Do you know how incredibly difficult it’s been to delay these doctors from converting patients? They’re starting to grow suspicious of my presence already and now I’ve got to convince them there’s some delay.”

“Well, I’m sure that has been difficult and I’m sorry for the trouble it’s caused you, but it was necessary,” I say.

Ren regards me with a look of astonished confusion. “So that’s how that apology bit works. No one has ever really said it to me before. You play it off like you mean it.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes at him. “I do mean it. When you cause someone stress then you feel bad and try and make amends with your words.”

He scratches his head, looking muddled and then recovers with a laugh. “That’s cute, Emmy, you almost sound convincing. Not quite though. Work on it.” He pauses at a door. “Your first patient is here. You have two minutes. I’ll be in with the doc in Prep. You know the drill.”

“Two minutes? Really? Can’t you give me a few minutes more to allow this kid to make a major life decision?”

“Hmmmm…” he says, seeming to think on it. “No, I can’t.”

“Thanks, Unc,” I say, opening the OR door.

***

When I left Parker’s house, after Rogue’s death, I went straight to Ren’s apartment. It was then that I convinced him we were going to have to work together. It took most of the night.

“I don’t like working with others,” Ren said when I barged into his apartment that night and demanded we team together to stop Vider. He tied his arms across his chest, like a bratty little kid would. “Other people have opinions and preferences and their own wrong ways of doing things. It’s dreadfully irritating. I’m more of a lone pilot. If something happens to me I’m fine with the plane going down.”

I was emotionally exhausted after my last few moments with Rogue, but adrenaline was pulsing in my blood then. “Well, I’m on that plane and I’m not okay with it,” I told him.

“Well then go fly commercial,” Ren said with a sniveling grin. I wanted to slap him, but my restraint was still in place.

“Look, I need your help. Tonight we destroyed most of the cerevitium and…” I gulped on the tears plaguing my throat. Pushed them down to the bottom of my being. “And also Rogue is dead.”

Ren stared at me, his eyes narrowed a bit and his mouth twitched. “You must be exhausted,” he said. “There’s a hell of a lot of cerevitium in the warehouse.”

“I am,” I told him with a raw sigh.

“Well, you can’t sleep here if that’s what you’re hinting at,” he said, his British accented words always lacking any sensitivity. “But I think I might entertain this working together idea you have.”

I flipped my head up in surprise.

There was something new playing across Ren’s face. It almost looked like empathy but then he covered it up with a loud yawn. “Well, get on with it, would you?”

And so a plan was born, and good thing because we had no idea that Vider would start conversions the next day. We weren’t completely ready and I’m sorry to say the first half batch of Defects were converted before we had everything in place, but we quickly made up for our losses. The converting department can handle ten Defect-to-Middling operations a day. That day five Defects were converted before we implemented the plan. However, since then none have been converted blindly. Only fifty Defects have elected to be converted after learning the truth. Unfortunately, there will always be a segment of the population who blindly follow, even after overwhelming evidence is presented to them. Fortunately, they aren’t the majority. In ninety days we’ve saved eight hundred and forty-five kids from having their gods-given dream travel ability severed. Now there’s one hundred left, although there will always be more since Vider continues to put more Defects on the list.

To my astonishment Ren listened without interrupting as I explained the many different projects I had in my head. Rogue had only died an hour before but all my focus was spinning around what I had to accomplish to defeat Vider.

“Here’s where I can help,” Ren had said when I was done. He stood from his armchair and started to pace. “The Conversion department.” He stopped and regarded me with a triumphant look like I should already be applauding. When I didn’t he gave me an offended look and continued pacing. “There’s two doctors in that department who do the surgeries. The President has assigned me to that department to conduct an evaluation of Defects after conversion. This is to ensure the surgery worked and they have no ability to dream travel or any gift of any sort.”

“Of course he would do that,” I said with a sigh.

“Since there’s only two doctors I should be able to capture their attention before each conversion,” Ren said.

“How can you do that?”

“I’m hypnotic with my ability to distract,” he said with a wink.

I had heard via Nona that she witnessed Ren put an annoying Defect into an almost comatose state by swinging a necklace with a trinket back and forth and saying suggestive phrases. Nona had escaped the hypnosis only because I’d warned her of our uncle’s skill.

“So I distract while you give the Defect a choice. If they take it then we fake the surgery, wrapping up their head with bandages and making the OR look used. And,” he said, drawing out the word because my face had arranged into a skeptical glare, “I will use this.” He then brandished a small silver box from the drawer of his new coffee table. It appeared Ren was finally starting to get furniture. Maybe that meant he planned on sticking around. “I’ll use it on the doctors to implant the memory of them performing the surgery on the patient.”

“What’s that?” I asked, studying the box that sat in the palm of his hand.

He sighed, looking a bit deflated. “It’s a modifier. God, you really know nothing.”

“That’s the modifier?” I’d heard my father talk about it. Vider used it in special cases to apparently help his people. It can implant or erase memories. Who knows how and why Vider actually used this incredible technology. “Did you steal that from Vider?”

“Hell no,” Ren said, giving me another look of offense. “This one is on loan to me and I can guarantee that it works one hundred times better than the crappy one the President has.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Because I’m a genius. Will that answer suffice?”

I regarded him with a skeptical stare.

“Oh, all right,” Ren said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I did steal the President’s modifier but only to have it compared to this one. His version only works on people who consent to having it used on them and it’s not as effective as this one. Otherwise if the Pres had this,” Ren said, holding up the brushed stainless steel box, “don’t you think he’d have even you under his control?”

I gave a slow, mortified nod. Vider had threatened to use the modifier on me before, but I realized now that was an empty threat.

“This little life destroyer,” Ren said, tossing the box in the air and catching it, “with the exception of people who have gifts of mind control, such as the President, it can work on most anyone, no matter whether they consent or not.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “It sounds awful. Too powerful.”

“It is,” he agreed with a sneer. “But sometimes it’s necessary to employ weapons, even ones I loathe, and now is one of those times, luv.”

“So with the modifier you’ll implant the memory into the doctor’s head of doing the surgery?”

“Exactly,” Ren said, growing tired. “Now, if you are convincing enough to the Defects, then I’ll have to modify these doctors’ memories hundreds of times.”

“So?”

“So that much modifying will probably turn their brains to mush with time.”

A defeated sigh fell out of my mouth. “Well then, we can’t do it.”

“Em, I want to appreciate that you have this ‘no man left behind and no innocent people hurt’ mindset, but be realistic. There’s casualties in every war.”

“But—”

“These doctors have consented to cut away Dream Travelers’ abilities,” Ren said, interrupting me. “Dr. Parker didn’t know what he was doing. The doctors in the withdrawal labs think they are taking spinal fluid from Middling infants for testing purposes to help the babies. They don’t know it’s synthesized into cerevitium. But these two doctors in the conversion labs know exactly what they’re doing. And even if they are somewhat brainwashed, they have to be pretty soulless to do that to their own race, don’t you think?”

I chewed on my lip, knowing what I needed to say but unable to voice it. Finally the word broke out of my mouth. “Fine.”

***

After two minutes I exit the room, leaving the Defect to bandage his overwhelmed head. He’s jaded, just like all the rest after learning the truth. But he’ll remain a Dream Traveler as the gods intended him to be and soon he will receive his gift, once his last injection of cerevitium wears off. I stroll by the door, where Ren sits with the doctor “keeping his attention.” I knock twice and then keep walking. One knock means I had failed. Two knocks means I’ve succeeded. I turn around at the corner in time to see the flash of bright light spray out around the edges of the door. This is a result of the modifier in use. Another memory has been implanted in the heartless doctor’s head. One down for the day, nine to go.

Chapter Six

All ten of the Defects I confronted consented to keeping the secret and therefore their dream travel abilities. They are all considered Middlings now and must act as robots, displaying no outward emotion, which is what the conversion surgery does to the ones who actually have it done. But all of these kids have been transferred to an apartment building, where they will live together and hence have a secret community amongst themselves. They will know each other’s secrets and can confide in one another as they perform their Middling day-to-day jobs.

“You look like the gods have all but zapped you of the will to live,” Nona says to me when I throw myself down on Zack’s couch. I jogged straight here after the long day at the conversion labs, knowing I was late for my meeting with Nona.

“I do fear that the gods are trying to kill me,” I say, allowing my eyes to close for a half beat.

“But you’re Morta, so find a way to retaliate on them,” Nona says with a giggle, scooting over on the couch so she’s right next to me. “Didn’t you say that in that old book it proclaims that even the gods were afraid of the sisterhood we were named after?”

I nod. “The Parcae.”

“Well, then threaten them until they give you a break.”

“I don’t think they’re the ones causing me so much stress,” I say, leaning my heavy head on my little sister’s shoulder. “I think it’s a middle-aged-tyrant who has the senses of a werewolf and the heart of a Nazi.”

“There were a lot of words in that sentence that they don’t teach us at school,” Nona says with another giggle.

“There’s a lot they don’t teach Reverians in school. One day when you can dream travel freely I’ll show you things that will challenge the framework of your mind,” I say, thinking of when Rogue took me to the Library of Congress one night while dream traveling and urged me to just “browse.” It was after that long night of reading passages out of hundreds of books that I understood why Vider restricted our library collections so much. Books are full of words and they are the most influential tools in the world. These seemingly innocent things strung together by letters have the power to ignite ideas, to spark a dying motivation, to fuel a passion. Words in essence can breathe life and they can take it. They’re the instruments by which humanity survives, evolves, or destroys itself. Take away our words and humans are disempowered. We are shells when we don’t know what the words of others can teach us. We are exactly who Vider intended all along, moldable.

“Can we talk about the subliminal destruction project, or is that going to throw your brain into overdrive?” Nona asks.

I pull myself upright and take a long inhale, which turns into a yawn. “I’m good and I’m curious to know where you are with the project.” Vider’s arsenal of controls involves implanting certain messages in the minds of Reverians, both Middling and Dream Travelers, using subliminal messages. Finding all the places he’s placed them is Nona’s job. Destroying them is mine.

She digs into the backpack at her feet and pulls out a notebook. With a proud smile she tosses it at me. Due to my poor reflexes it lands with its pages splayed out on the floor.

“Whoa,” Nona says, kneeling to retrieve the papers. “You’re not doing so hot.”

“I haven’t slept in a couple of days,” I say, taking the notebook from her.

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m fine,” I say, avoiding the question. “I could use some water.”

“Coming right up,” she says, popping up from the sofa and dashing off to the kitchen.

I leaf through the notebook and immediately my heart plummets. Nona bounds back through the kitchen door a few seconds later, carrying a glass of water in her hands. She freezes when she sees my face, her bright smile dropping as well.

“Nona, there’s hundreds of locations of subliminal messages. How am I supposed to destroy or replace them all?” I ask.

She sets the glass on the table and waves off my frustration. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. Maybe we only take out the major sources of brainwashing.”

“But I just can’t even fathom—”

Nona holds up her hand. “First things first, before we get to that,” she says, trying and failing to cover up the sneaking grin on her freckled face. “Do you want your water cool, cold, or freezing?”

A tired smile forms on my face. “I’d like it to be a chilly forty degrees.”

She nods with enthusiasm. “Coming right up.” Nona’s finger points at the glass of tepid water only an inch away. An instant later a tiny layer of condensation clings to the glass. “Here you go,” Nona says, picking it up and handing me the cold water.

We probably should have been less surprised that her gift was hydrokenesis, the ability to manipulate water, since Dee’s gift is pyrokinesis. Nevertheless, it was a pretty awesome revelation when she walked into Zack’s house and created a thick cloud of mist from the particles in the air.

I take three long gulps of the refreshing water and then set my eyes back on the pages detailing the locations of all of the hidden communications. “Some of these are in the most random of places, like the back of textbooks.”

“That’s why I say we focus on only the important ones,” Nona says, angling her hand at my glass of water. The chilly liquid stretches up out of the glass and straight into the air, where it pauses. “I think if you focus on the billboards, radio, TV, and newspapers then it will have enough of an impact.” She tilts her hand slightly and the water arches, like a wave about to crash.

“Do you have to keep doing that?” I ask, shaking my attention away from the mesmerizing water display and refocusing on the notebook.

“Ummmm…yeah, I do. Since I’ve had my gift suppressed for a whole year I’ve got to make up for lost time. Didn’t you after you finally got your gift?”

“No,” I said sharply. “Since my gift zaps people of energy and their very life force I use it sparingly. Oh, and it also burns me up alive, so no, I don’t use it willy-nilly.”

“I don’t use it willy-nilly,” she says, mocking me.

“Don’t make me use your gift on you. I’ll put icicles in your hair.”

“Man, if I was a leech I’d totally steal everyone’s gift and use it on them,” Nona says dreamily.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a burden at times,” I say.

We’re both startled when the front door opens. The wave of water crashes down on the coffee table.

Chapter Seven

Zack closes the door behind him and eyes Nona and me with amusement. He doesn’t look the least bit angry that his table and all its belonging have just been flooded.

“You’re home early,” I say, noting that it’s not even six o’clock. Zack usually doesn’t come home until closer to nine.

“I wanted to know if you’d made it back yet from the farm,” he says, a look of relief on his face.

“I made it,” I say with a giant sigh of fatigue.

Zack tosses his suit jacket on the chair and loosens his tie.

“You look exhausted,” I say, observing how his movements are sluggish, like the smallest task puts undue strain on his body.

“I can’t look more exhausted than you do.”

“Thanks,” I say, suddenly self-conscious of the dark circles I know hang under my eyes.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Zack says.

“It’s fine. I’ll rest when this war is over,” I say.

He gives a skeptical glance. “Did you ride back-to-back days?”

I pat the sofa next to me, not daring to answer that question. “Come sit, we need to discuss plans for getting into the water treatment plant.”

“Em,” Zack says, not moving from his place in the entry way. “I’m worried about you.” He gives Nona a look and then directs his attention back on me. “You can’t be doing all this all alone.”

“I’m not,” I say with a croak.

“You’re leading every one of the projects,” he says with a punishing tone.

“I’m the only one who can. You all haven’t had your covers blown yet and have to remain discreet.”

He presses his eyelids together for a few seconds. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Just because I don’t take the immune booster anymore doesn’t mean I’m going to get sick,” I say.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

That statement coming from Zack stuns me. No one pushes themselves harder than Zack.

“Can you clean that up?” I say to Nona, pointing at the water puddled on the coffee table that’s seeping to the edges and threatening to spill onto the wool and silk hand-knotted rug. “I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for ruining Zack’s furniture.”

She eyes him with a discerning expression. “I don’t know, judging by that stupid kiss he planted on Dee’s cheek the other night when he dropped her off from their date, I think I might. I’m surprised your lips didn’t rot off.”

“Nona!” I say, slapping her arm. “Were you spying on them?”

“Of course I was,” she says with zero shame. She stands and pins her hands on her hips. “I thought I’d be protecting Zack if Dee ordered him by fire to make out with her, but he looked all too happy to slap a sloppy one on her powder-caked chiseled cheek.”

I can’t muffle the laugh that bursts out of my mouth. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

She’s not laughing but rather staring at Zack with scrutinizing eyes.

His face drains of color as his eyes stay hinged on her. “It’s called acting, Nona,” he says in a sensitive voice. “Please know that I’m not enjoying a second of it. My loyalty is to the war. I hope you aren’t thinking otherwise.”

Her eyes narrow on him. “I might be…”

“Nona!” I screech, springing up from the sofa. “It’s Zack.”

She turns, giving me a pitying look, like I’m a naïve little child. “I think that used to mean something, but more and more I’m finding people who can’t be trusted in this rebellion. You think you know someone and then realize they’re a part of the conspiracy. What if he’s really working for them? What if Zack’s acting with us and the real gig is with Dee?”

“Nona, for one, you’re ridiculous to question Zack’s loyalty,” I say. “And secondly, you don’t announce your paranoia like this. You should have told me in private.”

I’m certain I’m wearing a look of pure horror. However, Zack smiles and shakes his head at me. “She’s right in both her line of thinking and her way of presenting it, Em.”

“What?” I say, spinning to face him.

“Almost everything we’ve known is a lie, why not question everyone’s loyalty, especially mine since I’m on both sides of the fence. And the perfect time to confront a traitor is when they’re not expecting it and you have witnesses.” He turns his attention on Nona. Softens. “But I’m not a traitor, Nona. I can imagine how my dealings with Dee appear but I’m only doing it to gain favoritism from Chief Fuller and I wouldn’t keep it up if it wasn’t working. Just today your father granted me access to the blueprints and security detail of the water treatment plant. He’s never released that project information to anyone in my position and rank before.”

Nona ties her arms across her chest and regards Zack under hooded eyes. “Really?” she says, still holding doubt in her voice.

“Really,” he says. “Having to endure Dee’s company every weekend isn’t a chore. It’s actually incredibly painful. If I look like I’m enjoying it then it’s only because I’m looking forward to winning this war and being rid of her and the evil politicians she idolizes.”

My gaze shifts between Nona and Zack. Finally I interrupt their stare-off. “Both of you are nuts. You, Nona, for thinking Zack is corrupt. And you, Zack, are nuts for agreeing that she should be doubting you.”

“Well, I think she has every right and reason,” he says, looking straight at me.

“Oh, then do you think I need to question your loyalty?” I ask.

He shakes his head at once. “No, you know me better than anyone alive. Nona doesn’t and therefore has the right motive.”

Alive. Does that mean that somehow Rogue knew Zack better than I do? Is that what that statement means? I shake off the statement and the frustration Nona’s confrontation created in me. “Well, speaking of the water treatment plant, where are we with that?”

Zack runs his hand along the side of his slicked back hair. “Like I said, I have access to everything we need. Plans. Security. Entry. Now we just need to draw up the strategy.”

“I think I’ve mostly got those together,” I say through an uncontrollable yawn.

“There’s something else though,” Zack says, a catch in his voice.

“What?” I say with sudden dread, reading the look on his face.

“Well, we can replace the drugs going into the water supply but that’s going to take a while to have an effect. The current supply will still be polluted,” he says.

“So?”

“So if we want rapid results then we need to do something to the stored supply to negate its effects,” Zack says.

“Hmm…” I say, looking at Nona. “Like a way to change its molecular structure and then return it to normal?”

“Yes, that would work,” Zack says, the idea making his face light up.

“Nona, looks like you’ll need to join me when I visit the water treatment plant,” I say, plopping back onto the couch.

“Aye aye, captain,” she says, saluting me.

“Now clean that up,” I say, pointing to the water that’s now slipped over the side of the table and is soaking the rug.

With a flick of her wrist all the water particles rise into the air and gather in a ball. Then like a waterfall it streams back into my glass, not a drop splashing out.

“Show-off,” I say with a grunt.

“I learned it from watching you, Ms. Electricity,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me.

Zack sits down on the couch next to me and regards the two of us with a curious interest.

“What?” I finally say.

“Well, I’ve been reading through that book Ren gave you about the Parcae,” he says.

“Metamorphoses?”

He nods.

“And?”

“Well, I’m just intrigued watching you two after learning your namesakes. The symbolism is fascinating and I’m not sure how your parents planned it since it would have been a crapshoot,” Zack says.

“Can you please stop talking like a politician and get to the point?” I say.

He nods. “There were three sisters known as the Parcae. They were considered responsible for creating the destiny of the world. Nona,” he says, nodding at her, “was the real name for the one who spun the thread of life.”

She smiles with great satisfaction. “I like where this is going.”

“Yes, I would say you’re the second most powerful in the trio.” He turns his attention on his hands as he speaks. “Dee was apparently named for Decima, who measured the length of someone’s life. And Em,” Zack says, flicking his eyes up to meet mine. “As you know, you were named for Morta, who decided how someone’s life ended.”

I scratch my head. “Why does this interest you so much and what the hell does it mean?”

“I think that your clairvoyant mother named you because she knew your roles,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to figure it out as he speaks. “But what is unclear is what your actual roles are related to. It’s all symbolic and something tells me it has to do with the Reverians and quite possibly this war.”

I lay my head back on the sofa, propping my feet next to Zack. “This hurts my brain,” I say, my eyes slipping closed at once.

“Mine too,” Nona agrees and I hear her strap on her backpack on. “I’m off for now,” she says, but I don’t watch her walk out, I just hear her exit from the recesses of my sleeping head.

Chapter Eight

I awake to find a soft crocheted blanket draped over me. It’s morning. I’m late.

I spring up off the sofa and bolt upstairs to get ready. Thankfully I’m efficient enough to shave some time off my routine and therefore put me back on schedule. When I rush downstairs Zack is reading the newspaper in the kitchen. I march up in front of him and halt. Unhurried, he lowers the paper and arches a curious eyebrow at me.

“You let me oversleep,” I say, an angry growl in my voice. “Do you know how cross Ren will be if I’m late again?”

He sighs and folds up the newspaper. “Em, you’re exhausted. I just allowed you to rest.”

“You shouldn’t let me oversleep again.”

“When did I become your alarm clock?” he says with an amused expression.

“Don’t try and fool me. You love schedules. It’s your natural role to keep us all on a timetable.”

“Great, that’s my job,” he says, irritation in his tone. “Meanwhile, you’re leading every project. Conversion, water treatment, subliminal, and soon Middling recruitment. You’re killing yourself with all this work and I don’t think I’m doing enough.”

“You are, though. You’re providing inside information. That’s critical,” I say.

He nods but it holds no conviction.

“And if it wasn’t for you I’d lose my mind,” I say, resigning my earlier frustration.

A ghost of a smile flicks to his pink lips.

“Okay, next time you know I have to get up, wake me up. Got it?” I say.

He nods again.

“I’ve got to run before Uncle Renny has a conniption fit.” I pause and regard Zack. He looks a little miserable still. I can sense the irritation simmering inside him. “Stop worrying,” I say and stand up on my tippy toes to straighten his blue and silver tie. “You’re doing enough.”

He’s wearing an embarrassed blush when I step back. “Get out of my head, would you?” Zack says.

I flash a proud grin at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I don’t,” he says.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, grabbing my coat and sprinting for the door.

***

After another strenuous but entirely successful shift at the conversion lab I sneak through the alleys to Parker’s house. He isn’t home yet but I let myself in, knowing he won’t mind. I spend almost as much time here as I do at the labs.

At first Parker was hesitant about his role in the rebellion. Then Rogue died and something shifted in the doctor. His reluctance morphed into a quiet anger, one that made him appear stronger somehow. Since Vider assumed I had the help of one of the lab personnel he had lie detector tests administered to everyone working there. Parker passed his test without a hint of trouble and this injected him with a bold confidence. Then once his parents knew the extent of his involvement with the rebellion, and to his relief supported him, he strode with a relaxed posture and spoke with a new degree of ease. Whereas a few months ago he always appeared overworked and stressed, now Parker was the casual doctor with an easygoing disposition. This was probably due to the fact that he hadn’t given a single injection in three months. He’d been able to disclose the truth to all of his patients and have them keep it confidential.

Just like the Defects I saved from conversion, his patients acted the part and all of them, like Nona, had their gifts. Now Parker just had to empty out unused vials of cerevitium into the sink all day while chatting with his patients. Nona and he used this time to strategize and share information but I hadn’t authorized for any other Defects to be brought into the war effort. There would be time for that later. Now was the time for reconnaissance and planning.

Parking myself at the dining room table, I go to work studying the notebook Nona left me. I highlight the major places where she found subliminal messages. The ones that will be easy to destroy. After an hour of working, my eyes trail off until I realize they’re looking without seeing. My eyes are resting on a portrait of Parker’s father that hangs over the fireplace. Young-chol was much younger in the painting. And he died in the chair that sits beside the gas fireplace. He’s not the only man who died in this house. But he’s the only one who haunts it.

A month after Rogue’s death I recruited my tutu for a job I knew only she could do. It was late evening when she rapped at Parker’s door. Being the only one there I let her in, motioning her inside, my presence hidden behind the stained glass door.

“Child,” she said, drawing out the word, “Nona told me what you mean for me to do and I have certain hesitations I wish to voice first.” She leaned on her raccoon-headed cane, looking winded from the long walk here. I hadn’t seen her for several weeks and her clothes seemed to hang off her more than I remembered, but her clothes, like her, are old.

“I knew you’d have hesitations and would want to give me warnings first,” I said. “But save your breath because I’ve thought this through and I need to do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“He can’t come back,” she said plainly.

“I know.”

“And you can’t ask him to stay.”

“I know,” I repeated.

“And you can’t stay with him here.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want to hear any sappy talk between you two,” she said.

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Well then…”

“You’ll let me leech you so I can see Rogue’s ghost?”

She sighed. “Of course, child. If you think it will help your pain.”

“It will. It will.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her down the narrow hallway. “Walk carefully on these floors,” I warned her. “Soon-hee polishes them every day. I think she’s trying to make me break a leg.”

“Or she’s just trying to keep busy after her husband’s passing,” Tutu said.

“How’d you know about that?” It had only happened a few days before and the family had kept it quiet with only a small service.

“Young-chol’s ghost is hanging out in the living room right now,” she said. “I never knew him. His son, Dr. Parker, has his eyes, they’re full of soul.”

I nodded, having seen the similarity. “So Young-chol is here?”

“Yes, he’s waiting for Soon-hee. He’s worried for his son. The war makes him nervous for his family,” Tutu reported. That was a lot of information to receive inside of only a minute, but she said once that ghosts like to tell their stories to her since she is one of the few who can see them.

“Oh,” I said and a nervous hum started vibrating in my chest. Arriving at Parker’s bedroom, I pushed the door open. I leeched Tutu’s gift of seeing the dead and expected for Rogue’s strong and handsome image to appear before me. I had my words prepared. Already saw myself rushing toward him until I felt the icy chill of his apparition.

In front of me stood the bed where he died. A dresser and a chair. Nothing else. No one. I searched the modest room and then revolved my confused gaze to Tutu. “Why can’t I leech you? Where is he? Why can’t I see him? What is he saying?” I asked in a rush.

A tender smile quirked up the corners of her lips, wrinkles splaying out around them. “You are leeching me, but he’s not here, sweet child.”

“What?” I stepped out of the room, scanning the hallway at once. Not seeing anything I stepped back next to Tutu. “Where is he?”

“He doesn’t haunt, Em. He’s moved on from here.”

“No,” I said, my heart deflating like a balloon, disappointment rushing around inside my chest.

“Only spirits that have unfinished business stick around,” Tutu said. “Rogue must have been done. Moved over willingly. You made him happy. Gave him what he needed in this life.”

“So I’ll never see him again?” A seemingly unending ache ripped through my chest, creating a bottomless ravine in my heart.

“Who knows? Who knows where we go after this? I’m certain no one does.”

“But Parker’s father haunts because he’s worried for his family. Wants to wait for them,” I said, childishly feeling slighted.

“Well, by that logic I think it’s safe to believe Rogue wasn’t worried for you,” Tutu said, her matter-of-fact tone making it worse. I wanted her to console me. To tell me I was right to feel wronged. But the last person to give me unnecessary sympathy would be Tutu. She always said the fastest way to heal is to bypass the drama and head straight for the solution.

“But I’m leading a war,” I argued. “And why isn’t he waiting for me like Young-chol is waiting for Soon-hee?”

An expression so wise and full of secrets whisked across her face. I knew then she wasn’t going to tell me exactly what she thought, only the portion she thought I’d hear. “Oh, Em, I don’t have the answers to all your questions. Every spirit, like every human, makes decisions based on the information they are blessed with. Rogue made the decision to move on. It meant he was happy, done. And knew he didn’t need to stay around to protect you. And he’s not waiting around for you for his own reasons. I knew little of Rogue Vider, but what I did know of him I could tell he was a man with a certain knowing. If he left then he had good reason.”

***

The front door slams shut, bringing my attention back to the present moment and out of the past, where I’ve spent too many months reflecting lately. I’m not living in the past anymore. It doesn’t serve me.

“Hi,” I squeak out, my voice strained from making speeches all day.

Parker stands by the door, looking unsurprised by finding me in his house. He’s holding a paper sack in one hand and in his other a crumpled tie. He slings the tie on the stairs as he saunters over to the table where I sit.

“Hungry?” he asks, holding up the bag. “I ordered double curry thinking you might be lurking in my house.”

My stomach rumbles as soon as the aroma of Thai curry hits my nose. “I’m starving actually,” I say. “And I’m lurking here because I needed to discuss the drug you’re crafting to replace the one currently being put into the water supply.”

For at least a decade Vider has been putting a happy pill in the Middling water supply. It’s why they all are euphoric and complacent even though they live in squalor and work too many hours in menial jobs they don’t choose. It’s this drug that we have to replace with a sugar pill. Something that has no effect on them. The drug has to look exactly the same as the current one so Vider doesn’t realize what we’re doing. And that job has been assigned to Parker.

“Yep, I’ve got you covered,” he says, dropping the bag on the table and then casually leaning on the back of the chair. “This is something I vote we discuss over dinner.”

Chapter Nine

With my stomach full of curry and vegetables, I’m content to sit at the table and keep chatting with Parker. Since he had already synthesized the new drug we needed for the water treatment plant, we were able to discuss less threatening conversations over dinner. I relate how his mother took straight to the farm and my bed. He laughs easily, nodding his head. His brown eyes sparkle behind his glasses. The doctor seemed to have inherited his mother’s spark and his father’s thoughtful manner. We chat easily for over an hour and it’s during a conversation regarding how different his life is here versus in San Francisco, where he grew up, that I realize I haven’t had a relaxed conversation in months. Everything has been about the war. About surviving Vider’s attacks. About infiltrating his administration.

“It was so strange when I first moved here and discovered my collection of science fiction wasn’t allowed inside the borders. They confiscated it,” Parker says, pushing a stray bean around on his plate. “But since Umma always despised those films she applauded this rule,” he says with a fond smile. “And I was committed to the job and ensuring my parents were happy. Which they were. Life in San Francisco was complicated with awful commutes and such a rude divide between neighbors. Everyone was a stranger. But here we were a part of the community instantly.”

“Do you miss it?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the table, fascinated that Parker’s parents with their worldly views were so endeared to the monochromatic feel of Austin Valley.

“I’ll tell you what I miss…” he says, pausing until my ears perked up with curiosity. “The beach.”

“Oh yes, I’ve dream traveled to a few. The ocean is wonderful,” I say.

He shakes his head. “It’s not the same,” he says, drumming his slender fingers on the table, an excitement simmering in him. “If you’ve never walked a beach in physical form then you don’t know what I mean exactly. To have your feet in the sand. To smell the salty air. To have wind whip across your face. That’s the true experience of the beach. I love dream travel, miss it since I’ve moved here and had it restricted, but it can’t accurately relate a place to anyone. Being there in physical form is always better.”

I sit back in my chair, feeling suddenly deprived. I’ve never been farther than Rogue’s farm. I thought that since I’d been all over the world in dream travel form I had seen the world. And I had. But now it sounded like I hadn’t experienced the world. I bring my eyes up to Parker’s and find him studying me with a quiet interest.

“What’s got you so perplexed?” he asks with a half-smile. His thick hair has fallen out of the slicked back style all Dream Traveler men are required to wear. It’s one way Vider shows the divide between the society.

“I just never considered traveling before. But now it sounds like I might need an actual passport one day.” My eyes skirt to the clock on the mantle and I bolt upright. The relaxed conversation made me forget about my evening meeting. “I’ve got to go,” I say, sliding all my things stationed around the table into my bag. “I’m late. Again. I’m sorry to rush out but thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for taking care of my umma,” Parker says, stretching to a standing position. He’s not the least bit flustered by my rushed behavior.

“See you later,” I say as I dart out the door.

***

Without knocking I rush straight into Ren’s apartment. I’m fifteen minutes late. To my astonishment he has furniture. In the plural. Not just the one armchair that’s stood solo in his place for all these months. Now a sofa and another chair is arranged around a coffee table. Ren is in his usual worn plaid armchair. And sitting on the sofa across from him is a man I don’t know. The one I came to meet. The one Ren made the arrangements with using his contacts. This one man is the key to us winning this war. Everything depends on this meeting going well.

“I told you she’d be late,” Ren says to the man when I dart in and stand staring at them blankly. “She’s always late,” he says with a sneer.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I had another meeting that ran late,” I say, extending a hand to the man who’s now standing and facing me. “I’m Em.” I shake the man’s hand. His grip is too firm, like he’s trying too hard to convince me he’s strong, confident. The man is roughly Ren’s age, mid-forties, and he’s short, only a couple of inches taller than me.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Fuller. Your uncle was just filling me in on your projects. I have to say I’m impressed at all that you’ve accomplished,” he says, his voice deep.

“Thank you Mr.…” I say, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“Call me Smith,” he says, a strong hint of authority in his voice.

“It’s not your real name, is it?” I ask.

He sighs and darts his impatient eyes at Ren and then back to me. Smith has a pointy chin but a rounded bald head. If it wasn’t for the hairstyle, then it would be his loose-fitting suit that gave away that he’s not a Reverian. He’s playing with something in his teeth with his tongue. He makes a sucking sound like he has a seed he’s trying to dislodge between two teeth. “You should know, Ms. Fuller, that my identity needs to remain confidential until the end. I’m playing a dangerous game by being here and can’t risk being discovered.”

“Because you work for the U.S. government?” I ask.

“Because I’m trying to help you bring down one of the most powerful men in America!” he spouts, his face turning a vibrant shade of red. Over his steepled hands, I catch an amused smirk on Ren’s face.

“Okay,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me. “We will help protect your identity. Thanks for meeting with me.”

Smith takes a deep breath. “I have to say I was surprised when I got the call from Ren. I was worried about traveling into the Valley but I also knew I couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip by. I’ve spent my entire career in the FBI trying to find an in to Austin Valley but Victor Vider has it locked down. He’s made it impossible for me to gather the resources or support I need to properly investigate his actions and therefore lodge formal charges against him.”

“How has he done that?” I ask.

“He controls the thoughts of all of my colleagues and especially my superiors. He’s in the head of every congressman, the highest military officials, and of course the President of the United States himself.”

“But why not you? You’re a Middling, right?” I say.

A scowl wrinkles his long forehead. “Yes, I’m a Middling,” he says, sounding offended. “You think because you’re a Dream Traveler you’re so much better than me,” Smith says.

“I didn’t say that,” I say.

“Middlings might be weak in some regards but we aren’t imbeciles, like you all think.”

“I know that,” I say.

Again Ren is smirking. He obviously thinks my getting bombarded by this FBI agent is entertaining. I narrow my eyes at him before returning my attention to Smith.

“I haven’t been discovered by Victor because I’ve kept my suspicions and investigations of him secret,” Smith says. “I’ve noticed over the decades as my colleagues grew suspicious of him, investigated, and then mysteriously became completely disinterested in Austin Valley. Even as I questioned them about it they seemed to forget what we were discussing.”

“Suggestive memory loss,” Ren says, nodding his head, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Victor has made these investigators lose their memories?” I ask Ren.

“Yes,” he says. “The moment they think of something that triggers a thought of him or this Valley they forget what they were thinking about, it completely disappears. Like ‘poof,’ gone from their mind.”

“What? Vider has that ability?” I ask, surprised.

“On certain feeble-minded Middlings,” Ren says with a mischievous grin, his eyes half on Smith. He just isn’t happy if he’s not goading someone.

Smith whips around at once. “We are not feeble-minded. We are just ill prepared to deal with what Victor does.”

“Of course you aren’t, or your colleagues,” I say. “What my uncle meant was that we are all at a disadvantage under Vider’s control. But you’ve managed to stealthily stay hidden.”

“That’s why my identity has to remain secret,” Smith says, turning his scowl away from Ren and toward me. “I’m risking so much by being here. The moment Victor realizes I’m on to him he’ll brainwash me.”

“So what is our hope then?” I ask. “If he can brainwash anyone how do we convict him of his crimes?”

Smith holds up a single, plump finger to pause my questioning. “Victor cuts off all investigations before they can start. But having you two as insiders is an important advantage we’ve never been granted. If we discover enough evidence against him, and then you keep me protected while I go through the legal process, then we could have him set for trial and conviction before he knows what happens.”

A rush of optimistic hope starts buzzing in my chest. “Well, he is fairly distracted right now,” I say. “But what else do you need from us? There has to be more.”

He’s nodding as I ask my questions. “Evidence. If you gather enough evidence then I can construct a case. If I can get it in front of the entire bureau before Victor knows what’s happened then it will be too late for him to stop it. He can individually go after people but the entire bureau is too much. By then his cover will be blown and we can take him down.” There’s a vein along his temple. It’s bluish and my eyes keep jerking to it. This guy seriously needs to relax but not yet because he’s also our best chance at actually bringing Vider down. Everything I have planned so far saves Reverians, but this stops Vider.

Chapter Ten

It’s late by the time I return from my meeting with Ren and Smith. I’m grateful to discover Zack awake when I bounce into the living room, a new excitement making my steps lighter. I’m bursting to share with Zack my progress from the day. Ten Defects saved from conversion. The replacement drug for the water treatment plant safely tucked in my bag. And an FBI agent waiting for evidence so we can convict Vider of dozens of crimes.

Zack’s parked on the sofa, his elbows pinned on his knees, his head pressed between his hands like a vise grip. He must not have been home long since he’s still wearing his suit jacket, which he usually flings on the settee upon arrival.

I fall back on the couch, making the cushions bounce him slightly. “Are you mad because I’ve been out late again and you’ve been worrying about me?”

“No, I’m not mad,” he says, his head down, his voice muffled. “Although it’s got to be close to eleven. And yes, I’ve been worried.”

“I forgot to tell you this morning that I had a late meeting,” I say, kicking off my shoes and curling my feet underneath me. “Remember I had to bolt out of here because you allowed me to oversleep.”

Zack brings his head up and looks at me. His eyes are rimmed with red, heavy with stress. More so than usual. I spring forward, wrapping my hand around his bicep. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I release his arm when he leans back, pressing his fingers into his eyelids. “It’s fine. It’s progress. Real progress, it’s just not the path I thought it would take.”

“Well, that sounds great! I can handle the unexpected, but that look on your face made me think you had devastating news,” I say, pushing my legs under me and sitting on my knees.

Zack pulls his fingers away from his eyes and regards me for several seconds. “You seem chipper for having such a long day. What happened?”

“Oh, no you don’t. You first,” I say.

He sits up, eyes the floor, the furniture, everything that isn’t me. Then his gaze collides with mine and an unbridled heartbroken look is chiseled on his face.

“What is it, Zack?” I say, frozen in place.

He clears his throat. “I met with your father this afternoon. I’d arranged the meeting to discuss the Planning Commission, but…” He pauses after the word. His mouth pinches together. Nostrils flare. “Chief Fuller assumed I’d scheduled the meeting to ask for his blessing.”

I blink rapidly. My brain can’t construct the right definition for that word in regards to Zack and my father. “What?”

“He thought I wanted his blessing for my proposal.”

I clamp a hand over my mouth, but still a muffled gasp escapes, one that reeks of my agony. “No,” I whisper.

Zack nods, to my astonishment. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to correct himself upon seeing my horror. Tell me I misunderstood. His proposal to do something for the administration? His blessing on a project? This can’t mean what I think it does. Can’t.

“Before I could interrupt your father and tell him that I wasn’t ready for marriage, he led straight into the conversation and then I was stuck.”

Did Zack just say marriage? “What are you saying?” And I don’t want to know the answer, but I can’t live without the truth.

“Through circumstances I couldn’t control I’ve been forced to formally propose to Dee,” Zack says, not looking at me. His voice is calloused. But it’s not his voice. Not the one I recognize. And I know all his tones.

“No-no-no-no,” I say in a whispered rush. My lip trembles under my hand, which thankfully half covers the look of shock set into my face.

“Em,” he says, and I know he’s looking at me.

I bring my eyes up to meet his and his expression empties me of any hope that this is a misunderstanding without a tragic ending. He doesn’t need to say any more, but he does.

“Dee has accepted. We’re going to be married.”

“No.” The word pops out of my mouth, a force behind it. “You can’t! You don’t love her!”

He turns his gaze away from me and nods.

“Zack, she’s going to make you miserable.”

He nods again.

“You don’t have to do it,” I say, pushing forward on the couch, putting my legs in front of me. Readying myself to grab him. Shake him. Convince him he’s making a huge mistake.

Slowly, like he’s fearful to look at me, he brings his eyes up to meet mine. “I do though. The best way to make change is from within. And the marriage offers me advantages in the government.”

“But you don’t love her. Why would you marry her?”

“Because it’s a sacrifice worth it. You’ve become an outlaw and given up everything. The least I can do is form a union with a crazy person.”

“No,” I argue. “We’ll figure out a way to get you out of it. You’ll say you’ve changed your mind. That you’ve got to focus on your job. You can delay the marriage maybe,” I say, hope rising in my voice. “At least until after the war, and then you won’t have to do it at all.”

As I’m speaking he’s shaking his head. And with each sentence his nonverbal communication holds more conviction. “No, Em. None of that will work. I have to do it. I’ve made the promise and I will do it. There’s too many reasons for why I have to.”

I shrink in on myself. I know that when Zack has committed to something he doesn’t go back. And I know better than to argue with the look he’s giving me right now. However, I can’t believe the words that fall out of my mouth. They are all wrong. “When? When are you tying yourself forever to that witch?”

He blows out a breath. Pins his head back in his hands, like how I found him when I first walked in. Before I realized he’s screwed up everything. That my father has. “Soon,” he says, and the answer is a knife in my heart. “Your father said that as soon as we’re married I can take his position as Chief of Staff.”

“What?!” I bolt into a standing position.

“He’s being promoted to Vice President,” Zack says, his voice raw, like he’s stuck in a daze.

“But Vider has never had a second in command,” I say, standing over him. Shaking.

“Em, he’s never needed one, but with the war you’re leading he feels a new threat.”

And suddenly regret is a capsule in my heart. One that just bursts open. Every move I’ve made to bring Vider down is a sour taste in my mouth. I’ve done this. I’ve all but arranged this marriage myself.

“So you’ll be over your father?” I say, astonishment in my tone. “You’ll be the third most powerful person in the government.”

“Now you see why I have to do it,” Zack says, his voice compelling. “There’s so much I can learn from that place, so much I can do to help the war.”

“But you’ll have to marry her,” I say, venom in my voice.

“If there was another way then I’d do it. Any other way.”

“Well, I’m miserably sorry I was a Defect. If I hadn’t been such a screw-up to my family then you could have married me and gotten my father’s position,” I say, the cruel joke falling flat between us. I’m all anger and hostility and disappointment right now.

Zack’s head flips up, a startled expression in his eyes.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the awful attempt at dark humor. “I just mean that I wouldn’t make you miserable like Dee.”

“You wouldn’t make me miserable at all.”

And then a new thought assaults me. A practical one that seems to hurt worse than any other I’ve had so far. “Zack, I won’t be able to see you after you’re married. I’ll have to stay away from you. I’ll have to move out.”

“I know.” And he closes his eyes and presses his lids together too tightly. “You have no idea how sorry I am about that.”

“You can’t be as sorry as I am.” I turn, unable to look at him. To know that everything that’s felt right is about to be ruined drains the life out of me. I’ve loved seeing Zack since I’d moved in here. I’ve loved having my best friend around me every day. And now I will never see him. Now he won’t be my friend. Can’t. Everything is about to change. With an anger I’ve never felt before burning in my head I stomp to the stairs. At the banister I turn, but keep my eyes low, unable to look at him. “But hey, on the bright side, you’ll have the position you always wanted and it won’t have taken nearly as long as you thought.”

He stands from the sofa and in rapid steps comes to a standing position in front of me. “Em, I don’t care about the position. I just want to help the war effort. I want to help you succeed.”

I nod without looking at him. “No, I totally get it. It’s just hard to lose you like this. But at least with losing you I have some warning, unlike with Rogue.”

“It isn’t like with him,” he says, his voice unmistakably filled with pain. “This isn’t forever. It’s just until we end this war.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t have to be forever. But I’m not sure things can ever be the same after you’ve married my sister.”

He nods in a way that tells me he knows exactly what I mean. In the Reverian tradition, newlyweds are expected to have a child as quickly after the wedding as possible. It’s a mark of good health and of great fortune.

And the mark of Dee and Zack’s fortune will be a curse to mine, of that I’m sure.

Chapter Eleven

Before me a shorter version of myself appears on the cobbled bridge. The orange glow of the setting sun behind Nona casts her in a warm light.

“She agreed to do it?!” I say, throwing my arms around Nona’s shoulders. It feels so healing to have her near after my heartache with Zack.

She hugs me back and then steps away, her eyes hungry to soak in the sights around us. We stand on Charles Bridge in Prague. Street lamps flanking the side of the bridge have just started to flick to life.

“Of course Tutu did,” Nona says, her eyes not on me. “Has she ever once not granted one of our reasonable requests?”

“Not once,” I say with a triumphant smile. If Nona is here dream traveling with me then it’s only because Tutu agreed to wear her sleep bracelet for the night. Nona and I had constructed this plan and I’d been praying to the gods that it would work. It seems they’re finally listening. Tutu will be asleep right now, her sleep bracelet on one wrist and Nona’s on the other. And this allows Nona to dream travel freely for the first time ever. I remembered the first time I was able to go wherever I wanted and see the real world outside Austin Valley. And I remember Rogue’s words: the first time is indeed the best.

Since Nona’s knowledge of geography is limited I chose this location. There’s a rich history to the Czech Republic and to this bridge that was built in 1357. I can hardly fathom something that old, but yet it lies under our feet. I’d had us dream travel to an hour before sunset so Nona could see Prague both during the sunlight hours and also later when it’s sparkling with city lights. The glow of the lights from Old Town reflects off the Vltava River, making it shimmer orange.

Right now the look of wonder dancing across my little sister’s face is a gift. To be here with her as she sees the real world for the first time is enough to heal almost all my pains.

“Come here,” I say and tug her over to the edge of the bridge. One of the many statues that line the bridge stands to our right. I jump up onto the low bridge wall and a sudden gasp jumps out of Nona’s mouth. The fall to the river below is at least three stories, but I’m not going to fall and even if I did I would dream travel to safety before I landed. “Don’t worry. It’s fine,” I say, waving her forward. I take a seat and dangle my feet over the edge of the bridge.

Nona’s initial hesitation disappears at once. She’s an adventurer at heart, but a calculated one. Her eyes brighten with excitement as she takes in my relaxed posture and my legs swinging carelessly.

“Oh, this is the coolest thing ever!” she says and plops down next to me. “Thanks for bringing me here, Em.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” I say, watching Nona study the city.

For Dream Travelers, one of Vider’s cruelest controls is that he doesn’t allow us to freely use our ability to travel through space and time while sleeping. Why more people don’t question his rules continues to baffle me. Maybe it’s because most of the population don’t know what they’re missing. They don’t know that the world outside our borders is beautiful and safe and welcoming. Vider and my father have brainwashed people to think the opposite. And Reverians don’t even know the potentials for travel since geography books are banned in Austin Valley.

“I know you don’t like to talk about him,” I begin, “but how’s Father?”

“Em, I don’t understand you,” Nona says, wrapping the ends of her hair around her finger and then inspecting it. “He tried to have you converted. He’s a part of the administration responsible for injecting kids with cerevitium. Do you not want to face the fact that our father is an evil man not worth your consideration?” Too often my sister talks like this. She doesn’t speak like she’s wise for her age, she speaks wise for any age.

I shrug. “I know who he is and just what he’s capable of,” I say, seeing his piercing stare in my mind’s eye. “But the way others treat me doesn’t dictate the way I treat them.”

“Oh, so are you going to hug President Vider the next time you see him?” Nona says, with a grin.

My mind flashes to Vider’s creepy hands on me, all greedy and possessing. “Gods no. I’m not going out of my way to be nice to him. But I maimed our father with fire, so yes, I do feel I should show him consideration.”

“He deserved it,” Nona says. “He was trying to have you killed.”

“Nona, you won’t understand unless you perform an act of violence against someone, which I hope you never have to do. It isn’t easy and even if it’s for self-defense the act stays with you.” The boy I killed in the labs continues to haunt my sleeping dreams. I was saving Rogue but the memory of killing Maurice lives in my being.

Nona sighs with defeat. “Fine. I’ll tell you about our demon father if it will make you feel better, although I think it won’t,” she says. “Father has changed since you burned him. His vanity can’t handle the transformation in his appearance.”

I had spied Father from an alley where I stood a month ago. He was walking to his office, Dee beside him as she always is. Long burn scars covered his face now, partially obstructing the vision of one of his blue eyes. His blond hair now grows in patches on his scalp but somehow he has enough of it to slick it back and in that respect almost appears normal. But I knew by the haunch of his shoulders he wasn’t his old self. He cowered as he walked, his face down, like he was ashamed to hold his chin up high.

“He’s working a lot more these days,” Nona continues. “I think what’s mostly keeping him going is the Vice Presidency.”

It has been only a couple of days since Zack and Dee became engaged and already everyone knows about it and the Vice Presidency. The wedding is this weekend. My father’s inauguration into his new position is on Monday. It is all happening too fast. Too fast for me to stop. Too fast for me to handle.

“He dotes on Dee more too,” Nona says, bitterness making her words sound hot. “He’s already talking about the children he demands she have as soon as she’s married. It’s sick. The whole thing is sick. He’s consumed with the idea of the marriage speaking to his family’s fortune and good health. And father doesn’t want Dee working after she and Zack are married but says she’ll have plenty to do advising Zack on his role. It’s like he’s breeding some sort of nepotistic administration. And watching the whole thing literally feels like punishment. The only part that keeps me sane is that I know Zack is playing them all. I can’t believe he has them all fooled.”

“So you now believe that Zack isn’t a traitor?”

“Yes,” she says through a heavy breath. “Our family only sees what they want to but when I’ve visited father at his office I’ve seen Zack. He’s always listening and gathering information, looking to be doing one job, but I see his head spinning like he’s keeping an eye out for a new strategy for the war.”

“He’s a lot like you Nona, that’s why you recognize it.”

“Yeah,” she says with pride. “And I know he’s not a traitor because he turned over that evidence on the President.”

“Yes, Smith was giddy to get his hands on that.” Just yesterday Zack gave me a file that ties Reverians to the location of each of the children abducted around the country. The ones Vider had kidnapped so he could perform testing on them. It is circumstantial, but with more evidence the case will become stronger. When Zack takes the role as the Chief of Staff he’ll have access to all of that evidence. And although he adamantly disagrees, I think he can still secure enough evidence without taking that position, without marrying Dee. But maybe that’s just a heavy hope of mine. When Zack tells me he needs higher clearance to gain evidence I should just accept it, but how can I when it means he’s going to marry a soulless monster?

I look at Nona and realize she’s been watching me. No telling the various emotions of frustration and heartbreak that have played across my face during the last few moments.

“Where will you go after they’re married? It’s too cold for you to stay in the campground,” she says, rolling the end of one of her long curls around her finger again and then bringing it to her mouth and chewing on it. “Do you think Ren would let you stay with him?”

I slap her hand away from her mouth with more force than I intended. “Don’t do that and no freaking way. I’m not sure which one of us, Ren or I, would have a bigger aversion to us being roommates. Can you imagine it?”

She wipes the ends of her hair dry with her shirt and giggles. “I don’t know. I don’t know him like you do, but I think he’s kinda cool.”

“You’re right, you don’t know him well at all.”

She gives me a mischievous grin. Wags her finger at me. “I know you and I think you’ve grown fond of our uncle. He’s as sentimental as Tutu and has the spunk to match. With parents as sinister as ours we prefer the people who give us tough love. It keeps us grounded.”

I smile, thinking of how Tutu always responds when I tell her I love her. “Right back at you, child,” she says. Not once has she ever told me that she loved me directly but I’ve always known her love for me is unconditional. It’s in the way she looks at me. And the way she treats me like I misunderstand my greatness. She always told me growing up that my expectations for myself were too low while Dee’s were too high. “That little entitled brat needs to look in a real mirror one day and see herself for who she is. A blackened soul,” she said of Dee one time after my sister did something especially nasty.

“Hey, Em,” Nona says, her voice a little timid. My little sister has rarely been timid in her life, which makes my stomach instantly drop.

“What, Nona?”

“It’s about Tutu…”

“Tell me!” I demand, grabbing her hand, dozens of worries flocking around my thoughts like birds.

“I can’t,” she says, pulling her hand from mine and staring out at the darkening Prague sky. “She made me promise not to, but she asked me to relay a message to you.”

“Yes?” I say, drawing out the word.

“She needs you to find a way to visit her in our house.”

“What?” Tutu knows better than anyone how incredibly risky that is for me.

Nona nods. “And it needs to be tomorrow.”

Chapter Twelve

Nona and I are kicking our legs against the ancient bricks of Charles Bridge when a guttural scream rocks through my consciousness.

“Did you hear that?” I say, grabbing Nona’s arm.

She squints at me. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”

I look around, wondering why the scream sounded like it didn’t echo from the city or the various people on the bridge. It seemed to come from above me, but that isn’t right. “I just heard someone—”

The scream echoes in my head again. This time I recognize it. It’s unmistakably Zack’s voice. “I’ve got to go,” I say in an urgent rush. I press my eyes closed and pull my consciousness out of Prague and back to my body resting in the bed in Zack’s guest room. Ripping the comforter off I sprint out of my room and across the hallway. It’s only when my hand is on the doorknob that I pause. The light in his room is off. All I hear is ragged breathing. His. My mind boggles with why Zack would be screaming. Is someone in there? Maybe I should grab a weapon before storming in.

“No!” he screams with a long groan. “No!”

Without a second thought I rip the door open and bolt into his room. The lights are off. Immediately my eyes scan for an enemy, but all I find is Zack alone, twisted in his bedsheets. He’s breathing fast, sweat matting his hair to his head. He’s sleeping. Having a nightmare. “Pl-pl-please let her go,” he mumbles in his sleep.

I flip on the bedside lamp and then reach out and grab his shoulders, shake him. It takes several seconds of this to rouse him from the nightmare holding his consciousness hostage. “Zack!” I say up close to his face.

He startles, scrambling into a seated position, his eyes blinking open. “Wh-wh-what?”

“It’s okay,” I say, sitting on the bed next to him. “You’re only having a nightmare. It isn’t real.

It’s okay.”

Confusion muddles his expression as he tries to piece together his reality. “Yes…nightmare,” he says, nodding his head. His shaking hand struggles through his chaotic hair. Every one of his blond hairs is out of place. It’s strange to see him disorderly like this. It’s rare. His crinkled shirt is twisted around his torso and red creases mark his face. Ragged breaths make his chest rise and fall rapidly.

“It’s okay,” I say again, realizing that whatever he was dreaming about is still playing across his consciousness. Haunting him.

Zack is perched on the edge of the bed and regarding me with a look of bemused astonishment. “Relax,” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him more onto the bed. “Tell me what you dreamed about that spooked you so much.”

He pulls his hand from mine and shakes his head. Laying his head in his hands, he tries to steady his breathing. Finally he flips his head up and stares at me. “Did I wake you up?”

“Well, I wasn’t sleeping. I was dream traveling with Nona,” I say.

“But I pulled you out of it,” he states. “I’m sorry. Was that Nona’s first free dream travel?”

I nod, which sends Zack straight to his feet, where he begins pacing.

“Zack, what is it? What was the nightmare about?”

He shakes his head as he walks to the window and stands there, his back to me. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Who was the ‘she’ from your nightmare that you were begging to be let go?” I ask. I probably shouldn’t force him to talk about it, but I ask anyway. There’s a lot that Zack isn’t telling me. More so than usual. Each night after getting home the past few days, he’s looked at me with a new regret in his eyes. He spends his extra time at his parents’ house, something he never did before. He avoids me lately, or so it feels like.

Zack turns and looks at me. It’s so strange to see him standing in his wrinkled pajamas like we’ve just had one of our slumber parties from a decade ago, but now we’re all full of hurts, the innocence of our childhood ripped away.

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking at me bewildered.

“Why would I know the girls in your nightmares? Was it your mother? Was it Dee?”

He trudges over to the bed where I sit and presses both his hands on either side of me on the comforter, leaning down so that he’s only a few inches from my face. “It was you, Em. How do you not know you’re the girl in my nightmares?”

I stare at him. Swallow hard. Don’t respond.

“I dreamed that Vider took you away from me,” Zack continues, his words coated with heavy misery. “That he converted you. Changed you.”

I straighten. I’m unable to look anywhere else but Zack’s eyes, although all I want is to look away from him. A rapid chill knits up my back and then the stupidest thing I can think of falls out of my mouth. “Huh?”

Zack watches me, his eyes shifting between each of mine. He’s studying the bewildered expression on my face and I’m studying the thoughts in my brain. And they don’t make sense. Not in my current world.

Zack resigns with a breath. Sits beside me on the bed. “You must know that my greatest fear is that you don’t succeed. That they capture you.”

“I’m an idiot,” I say, pulling my feet onto the bed and crossing them in front of me. “So, no, I don’t know that.”

Zack gives me a confused glare.

“Greatest fear?” I ask with a skeptical glare. “How in the world did I ever finagle my way onto your greatest fears list?” I say, trying and failing to sound light-hearted.

“Em, you’re my best friend. The closest person to me. How in the world do you not know that I care about you more than anyone else? Are you intentionally trying to live in denial?”

I shrug, draping my nervous hands in my lap. “I just figured that with all the stuff you have at work I was the least of your concerns.”

He closes his eyes for a half beat and then looks at me with sincere annoyance. “Right, I’m so enamored by the robotic Reverians I work with,” Zack says, his words dripping with sarcasm, something he never uses. “Why in the hell would I consume my thoughts with the girl risking every waking moment to save a population of people who have rejected her her entire life?”

I bristle and make to move off the bed, but Zack reaches out for me. Grabs my hand. “Don’t go,” he says, and I bring my eyes to his to find something I wasn’t expecting. A sincere desire. It looks all wrong on his face, and also too perfect. I want to run and hide and also wrap my arms around him and hold him to me. He is my Zack anyway. He’s my best friend and in being that, I’ve always felt possessive of him, but after his engagement I’ve resented him without knowing why. I know he’s doing it for the war cause, but it still doesn’t justify it. And I don’t know why. Can’t articulate it.

Finally, after battling with a dozen emotions, I fling myself back onto his other pillow. “Fine, I’ll stay a minute more, but be sure to have this bed thoroughly cleaned. Dee will freak if she finds one of my long blonde hairs here.”

Zack cringes, his shoulders almost meeting his ears, like he’s having a waking nightmare.

“What? What is it?” I say, pressing forward, placing my hand on his.

“I just can’t stomach the idea of sharing a bed with her,” he says, and leans back on his own side, a miserable expression on his face.

I lie back next to him and strangely find I’m closer to his side of the bed. It must have been the angle I lay back at, but I don’t want to move away now that I lie inches from Zack’s face, hovering beside mine. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to marry her. We can still find a way out for you.”

“I do have to. And no we can’t.”

“She makes you cringe though,” I say. “How are you going to get around that?”

He stares off, a cold look of defeat in his eyes. “I don’t know,” Zack says and his voice carries such regret. There’s a depth to his current sadness that I only half comprehend, but that’s typical. He’s too strong to complain, or to tell me exactly everything he fears.

“Okay,” I say. “You know I’ll miss you.” I pause. “I say ‘you know’ because you already know that. I don’t want to think about not being able to see you anymore, so I haven’t allowed myself, but if I did I would think about nothing else.”

“I know,” he says. “I feel the same way.”

“You do?” I ask and turn to look at him only inches away. He’s staring at me with a quiet need. A yearning. And I think I know and then I don’t what his expression says. I can’t be reading any of this accurately right now. I’m an idiot. But then Zack reaches out and tugs my chin so it’s facing his. He angles his head in line with mine. He leans into me. I close my eyes, waiting on this moment. Aching for it. His lips are an eyelash distance from mine. His breath slides down my cheeks, sturdy and warm.

Beep! Beep! Beep! The alarm makes me jump.

“Shit!” he says, jerking upright, away from me.

My eyes flick to the bracelet on his wrist, pulsing and signaling an alarm. I’ve heard it dozens of times. He has five minutes to rest and fall back to sleep or he’ll be reported.

Zack slaps a button on the side of the bracelet and it silences.

I’ve already scrambled out of his bed, shaking the last few minutes out of my head.

“Em,” he says, reaching out with his voice. “Don’t go.”

“I have to,” I say, backing toward the door. “You need to sleep. Before you’re in trouble.”

“No, I’ll deal with the sleep commission tomorrow. I’ll tell them I was just excited about the wedding. It will be fine.”

The mention of the wedding coats my skin in needles. I shake my head and back away. “No, you’ve got to sleep. I’ve got to go,” I say, and grab the door handle and pull it shut as I dart out of his room and to my own. I crash into my bed and yank the covers over my head, hoping and praying he doesn’t follow me.

I know that Zack cares about me. I’m the girl in his nightmares. But I won’t allow that to delude me into thinking there’s anything more than platonic feelings behind his concern. The almost-kiss was a result of his billowing regret. Because even Zack will admit I know him better than anyone else, and there’s no way he sees me as anything more than a friend. I can’t even begin to allow myself to believe anything different.

Slowly my breaths turn to gentle raps and with each passing minute I know I’ve conquered the space between Zack and me. The space that in a few short days will be too vast. In a few short days our emotions and friendship will be singed until it only exists in our memory. And then it comes, a torrent of tears marking the end of the best friendship I’ve ever had. Soon it will be over. I cry the rest of the night until my tears sail me off to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

The last thing I want is to face Zack. And since the gods know that and enjoy playing with me, I run straight into him as soon as I exit my room the next morning. I guess it’s tough to avoid someone when you live with them. I thought I heard the shower running and could get out of the house before he was ready.

He’s dressed for work in a navy blue suit. Black tie. His chin is tucked and he’s regarding me with a brutal stubbornness. From his room I indeed hear the shower running.

“Uh, is someone taking a shower in your bathroom?” I ask, angling my head around him.

He shakes his head. “I knew you wouldn’t come out of your room until you thought the coast was clear.”

“Oh, you know me so well,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “Clever trick.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says, a playful half smile on his face.

“Well, you’re wasting a bunch of water. You should turn it off,” I say, moving by him and heading for the stairs.

“After we talk.” And for the second time in twenty-four hours and the second time in our entire life he reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Em,” Zack says, pulling me around so I’m facing him.

I eye his hand wrapped around my wrist and then bring my gaze up to his. He’s giving me that look from last night. That one that breaks my heart with what I can’t have and am also about to lose. “Zack, I’ve got to go.”

“We need to talk,” he says.

“If you want to talk about the projects then we can do that later,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“That’s not what I want to talk about,” Zack says.

I pull my wrist from his grip. Shake my head at him.

“You aren’t going to allow us to discuss what happened last night?” he asks, disappointment in his eyes.

The memory of our almost-kiss skims across my memory. “No, I think there’s no reason to discuss that lapse in your judgment.”

“Em, you’re not being fair,” he says.

“Save it!” I say louder than I intended. “Save it for Dee. For all the times you get with her. Save it for her porcelain ears to hear.” I know I’m being mean, but I can’t stop it. I don’t want to hurt Zack and yet I have to direct my pain and disappointment somewhere.

“Don’t do this. Don’t push me away now,” Zack says. “Last night, I almost—”

“Zack, we’re friends. Best friends,” I interrupt. “I totally understand that you’re stressed by everything and not thinking clearly. You don’t have to explain anything any further.”

He lowers his chin. Pinches his mouth together. And regards me with a look that means he’s either completely pissed at me or completely pissed at himself.

“And right now,” I continue, “is the perfect time to push you away. I need to do it to preserve my own sanity.”

A muscle flexes in his jaw. “Em…” And although he only says my name, it seems like there is a round of punishing statements following it.

“Look,” I say, “you know I don’t thoroughly agree with your reasons for marrying Dee. I get that it offers us many advantages in the war, ones we won’t have otherwise. But for a hundred different reasons, most of them that I won’t share, I don’t want you to do it. I’ve voiced that concern and you’re marrying her anyways. You made your decision and now I’m making mine. Just give me space, Zack. Okay?” I only just register his nod as I turn and bound down the stairs.

Chapter Fourteen

Knowing mid-morning is the best time to sneak into my old house I recruit Parker to cover my work at the conversion lab for an hour. He’s all too happy since he has little else to do. Of course, Ren is cranky about the change. He’s worried it will draw attention to what we’re doing.

I shrug off the indignant remarks he scolds me with as I sprint out of the lab. If Tutu requests I visit then I’ll risk getting caught and a host of other dangers.

To my relief Tutu is the only one home when I slide in through the back door. I can feel her power in the house. No other Dream Traveler. However, my parents could return at any time and I can’t face them. Can’t risk confronting them and having to defend myself to get away. One day they will be punished for their crimes, but I don’t want to be the one who does it. I can’t be the one.

The old floors creak under my shoes as I creep up the stairs. It’s been three months since the scent of the polished mahogany of my childhood home wafted by me. It instantly brings uninvited nostalgia to my chest.

It’s hard to keep my head clear as I take the once familiar trek to the wing of the house Tutu occupies. Almost all my fond memories happened within the flower-decorated walls of her suite. Unlike the rest of the house, the furniture in Tutu’s wing is all Polynesian. I love that it has a flair of character with its engraved leaves and depictions of tropical birds. The rest of the house has straight-backed, uncomfortable furniture that’s upholstered in fabric as stiff as my mother’s appearance. Tutu’s furniture is draped in bright colors that invite with its softness and overstuffed pillows.

I knock on her door and after a few seconds push it open to find the usually bright by day room dark with the curtains drawn. The usual smell of lilies springs to my nose and through the darkness I spy the vase of flowers on the center table. But there’s another smell that’s new. It’s pungent, with an undertone of musk to it.

“Tutu?” I call out, my voice just above a whisper.

“In here, child,” she says, her voice cramping my head with fear. The normal spunk is gone in her tone. She sounds tired, her voice a croak like she just woke up.

I step carefully, making my way to her bedroom. Instinctively I know and can’t bear to see what lies on the other side of the half opened double doors. I slide the door back enough to enter, keeping my eyes low in the dimly lit room. From my peripheral I know my tutu is resting in her bed but I don’t want to look at her. Not yet. Tutu isn’t the type to lie in bed. She may not leave these quarters often but she still bustles around all day. A tread of her usual paths has actually been carved in the carpet.

“Oh, quit being so skittish and get over here, child,” she says, her voice strained from possible disuse.

I bring my gaze up to find her lying in her four-poster bed, the turquoise comforter tucked up to her chest. Her gray curls lie around her head on the pillow. And on her face is the same smile I saw almost every day of my childhood. Tutu may be stingy with her compliments and affection, but she is lavish with her smiles. However, this one holds an element of strain.

“Tutu,” I say, the tears in my throat making my voice sound raw. I rush to the side of the bed and perch there at once. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, child,” she says, an amused expression on her face as she shakes her head. “I’m dying. I’m done.”

I choke out a tear. “No,” I say, pushing closer to her. “How? Why?”

“My time is done. I’m done,” she says, her voice matter-of-fact. Indifferent.

“So you’re giving up?” All my life Tutu has had a fire in her. One that fueled her passion. She told me she’d mastered old age because she knew how to think to keep herself strong and that old people died because their thoughts told them to. Of course, Dream Travelers do have a longer life span than Middlings, but Tutu is still the oldest that I know of.

“Do you know what today is?” she asked, a cunning spark in her eyes.

I shake my head, not even thinking about the question.

“It’s my one-hundredth birthday.”

“Oh,” I say, hiccupping on a tear. “Happy birthday,” I say but it sounds lame coming out of my mouth as I stare at the dying woman in front of me.

“I’ve been feeling my end near for a long time and now I think the thoughts that have kept me on this earth have run out. I’m done,” she says again, but this time with a relieved smile.

“But Tutu, you can’t leave me.” And I realize at once how childish my complaint sounds.

“Oh, but I can and I must.”

“Of all times, why now?”

Her eyes fall on a spot on the other side of the room. Hover there for a second. “I made a promise.”

“To who?”

“Em, this would be a little easier if you’d leech me,” she says.

“No!” I say, jerking upright. “Are you crazy? In your condition it could kill you.”

“I’m going anyway and at least this way you’ll have the privilege to learn something I’ve never told a living soul.”

The offer is tempting, but the idea that I could be what sucks out my tutu’s remaining life makes my head lighten.

Tutu shakes her head at my indecision. “Em, the man I made a promise to stands in that corner,” she says, pointing with her withered finger. “I want him to tell you why today will be my last day on earth.”

I press my eyes closed. Take a deep breath. Then I turn my gaze on the corner and leech my tutu’s gift. At once a ghost appears before me. He looks the same as I remember: three-piece suit, dark hair parted down the middle and pushed back, and an infectious smile under his neat mustache.

“Ronald?” I say, looking from him to my tutu.

He bows slightly. “A pleasure seeing you again, Morie.”

“What promise did Tutu make to you?” I ask.

He half strolls, half floats across the room, arriving beside me too fast. “We made a deal,” he says, his voice smooth. “I have enjoyed my time as a spirit on earth, but it is also a strange existence. I affect no one. I can do nothing. I don’t eat, drink, sleep, or feel. Yet, I’ve been all too happy to remain in this state for eighty years.”

“But why? Why do you haunt?” I ask. Tutu once told me that spirits stay on earth when they always have the option of passing because something holds them here, usually pain or what they believe is unfinished business.

Ronald holds up a finger and grins. “Ahhh, I don’t haunt. I’m a special case. As your tutu is special with her gift.”

My head is swimming with confusion. None of this is computing to why my tutu, the person who raised me, is lying in a bed about to die.

Ronald must spy my confusion, because he gives me a sympathetic smile. “I have chosen to stay as a ghost all this time. And in return your tutu has agreed that she would pass on her one-hundredth birthday, if she didn’t die of something else sooner.”

“Wait? What?” This all sounds morbid and then also strangely curious. “You two made a deal?” I say, looking from Ronald to Tutu.

He nods triumphantly. “And now you want to know why, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say too loudly. “Of course I do.”

“It is my distinct pleasure to inform you, dear Morie, that your tutu, Marylou, is the love of my life,” Ronald says. “She captured my heart both while I was living and for all these years afterwards.”

“You’re my grandfather?” I ask, studying the man who looks nothing like me or my father or the man in the old photos.

Ronald chuckles. “Heavens no. I’m the man Marylou loved and lost before she married the despicable Mr. Fuller.”

I scratch my head out of nervousness. “Say what?” Now my eyes swivel to Tutu. “What is he talking about?”

She gives a tired smile. “Ronald is the man who was supposed to be your grandfather. We loved each other all our lives. Grew up together. We were always planning to marry. But it was in this room that I watched him take his last breath. Due to his decision to not listen to me he died of a nasty case of pneumonia one winter.”

“It’s been eighty years. You think you’d let it go,” Ronald says, a smile in his voice.

“I wouldn’t dare do that,” Tutu snaps back. She looks at me. “Em, I’d told Ronald not to go off to the gold mines that season. That I had a bad feeling, but he insisted and he returned sick. Dreadfully sick.”

“So this is your house?” I ask to Ronald.

“Naturally,” he says, rocking forward on his toes.

“Now, here’s a part of the history I’m not proud of,” Tutu says. “With Ronald gone and his house being reassigned I knew I had to do something fast. I knew his ghost was in this house, and could not leave it. He could be here or he had to pass over all the way. So I did what any woman in my position would do and I professed my love to Fred Fuller, the man who was rumored to be moving into this house. He was high up in the government and I knew very little of him. Since he was much older and I was quite attractive he quickly proposed and we were married.”

“Wait, you married my grandfather so that you could live in this house?” I ask.

“So that I could be with Ronald,” she says.

That’s crazy. That’s one of the boldest moves I’ve heard of for love. “But you didn’t even know Fred,” I say.

“And I learned just what kind of sacrifice I’d made. He was an awful man. Calloused and power hungry. He was the man who made Damien who he is. And none of my attempts to intervene ever worked. But…” Her eyes sparkle when they land on Ronald, who stands beside me. “I had my Ronald and that was enough to keep me happy for a very long time.”

“So are you passing over so you two can be together as ghosts?” And somehow the words sound like I’ve just spoken a foreign language.

“No,” she says flatly. “I don’t wish to haunt. I’m passing all the way over. I will not remain on this earth.”

“But how do you know you two will be together?”

“We don’t,” Ronald answers. “But we hope that crossing at the same time will tie our souls to each other.”

Again my head swims like I might pass out from all this information. Somehow I stay standing. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of.”

Tutu’s periwinkle eyes dazzle with joy. “And you are the only one who has ever heard it. You, dear, are the only one who knows. Please guard my secret.”

“I will. But do you still have to pass? Can’t you just alter the deal a little?”

“Em, my body is tired. I’m not sure exactly how I did it this long. I think Ronald kept me going,” Tutu says and then gives me a tender smile. “You, child, did for sure. And it’s beautiful that I used my intention to stay on this earth. It’s something I hope you learn from me. But even if I didn’t make a promise, I wouldn’t last much longer. This vessel is done.”

“And I’m done with being a ghost,” Ronald says. “It is time I move on.”

“And I refuse to stay here without him,” Tutu says, her eyes fondly on Ronald.

And maybe it’s the reason behind her passing. Maybe it’s because she raised me to be strong. Or maybe it’s that her incredible acceptance and planning in this makes it easier to deal with. Whatever the reasons, I’m surprised to find my head nodding, my heart accepting this. “Okay,” I finally say.

“Before we part, I have two important things to tell you, child. Come closer,” Tutu says and reaches out for me, reminding me of Rogue in his final moments. He reached out to me with the same weak attempt. He lay in a bed before me, matter-of-factly stating he always knew he’d die on that day. How heartbreakingly similar their deaths are. It sits in the back of my mouth with a bitter taste. My acceptance has quickly flip-flopped to frustration. Rogue’s and Tutu’s deaths are too coincidental, like the gods are messing with me. But on the other side of this, at least the people who die around me are extremely cool about it. Maybe it’s my role as Morta that causes this.

Finally, abandoning my reserves, I arrive at Tutu’s side. And then she does something that captures my attention, if she didn’t already own it. She strokes my long hair away from my face. A gesture carrying such fondness with it. “You’re not the death of the society, Em. You’re the end of this oppressive rule, but only if you help those who help you survive.”

“I’m not sure what to do with what you’ve told me,” I say, my voice shaking. Every part of me is in disbelief.

Tutu shakes her head. “You will. Or you might. Or maybe you’ll fail and screw up this whole thing. Only the gods know. I’m not pretending to know the future.”

“Then why have you told me this craziness?” I ask.

“This is just what I’ve been told.”

“From your spirits?”

She nods, and it’s too slow and too small. The movement lacks all the power of one of Tutu’s usual movements.

“One more thing, child,” she, says grabbing my hand. The gesture makes my breath catch in my throat. In all my years, not once has she ever grabbed me. Touched me. Her voice was the only thing that ever got my attention. But now her wrinkled fingers command it.

“You forgot I had two things to tell you,” she says with a tired smirk.

“I didn’t forget,” I say, feeling the tears creep into the back of my throat.

“Your sister Dee, she dictates the length of this war. Your sister Nona started this war.”

I pause and regard her with disbelief. She winks back at me and continues. “It’s all true, sweet child. One day, the gods will prove it. But what I need to say before I don’t have a chance is that your namesake doesn’t mean death to people.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“Sweet Em, your name means you end this war. Of your choosing.”

“What? How do I do that?”

“You wait.”

“What?!”

“Your role isn’t to decide when to end this war, but rather how it ends. It is Dee who appears to have the role to decide how long it goes on. She’s isn’t powerful, not like you or Nona, so I believe she will do something to accelerate events at some point. And then you’ll have to make choices.”

“Tutu, why are you speaking like you know the future?” I ask skeptically.

“If I knew it I’d tell you, child. I know a few prophecies, but that is all. They are all very metaphorical and symbolic, but this one I don’t doubt its validity.”

I blow out a long breath. “Why does Dee get a power role in this?” I say bitterly. “She loves war and drama and pain. She’ll make this go on forever.”

“Actually, she’s her father’s child. She is lustful for power and if something comes between her and what she wants then she turns murderous, which is how I fear this war will fall into your hands. That’s when you’ll need to end it, but how will be your choice.”

“So no pressure,” I say, trying to piece together everything Tutu has shared. Then something she just said strikes me oddly. “Father is corrupt and cruel, but has he murdered? I know Vider has, but my father…?”

Tutu gives me a sly smile. “I never said Damien was Dee’s father, did I?”

“What? What does that mean?”

“I said she was her father’s child, am I right?”

“And you said, like him, she turns murderous to get what she wants…” I say, my brain twisting and turning with all of these new pieces of information. And then it drives home and I know with such certainty that my assumption is correct. But it changes nothing. It only proves how weird this Valley is. “Vider is Dee’s father?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Tutu says with a mischievous wink.

“I want to say that’s strange, but after everything that’s happened the last few days, it’s believable.”

“Em, I fear you will learn more unbelievable things before this is over. And I’d like to say I’ll be watching over you, but…” Her eyes flick to Ronald at my back. I can feel the icy chill of his presence behind me. “But I don’t know where we’ll be.”

I turn and look at Ronald. He looks mesmerized as he stares at my tutu, his eyes alive with delight. “I really hope you two are together,” I say to him.

Without taking his eyes off her he says, “I hope so too, and that is one of the most powerful ways to get anywhere. Hope.” His gaze drifts to me. “But we will have passed and it will be nice to move on. I’m ready. Marylou is ready.”

I nod. Open my mouth to say something about goodbyes, but it sounds dumb in my head so I slam my lips closed.

“Dear Em,” Ronald says, tilting his head to look at me. “I know you incredibly well, but I realize you know very little of me. It has been one of the grandest highlights of the last eighty years to watch you come into this world and grow into a woman.”

I breathe through a tender ache rising in my throat. “Eighty years you existed like you are so you could be with Tutu?”

His eyes light up as they flick to Tutu and then back to me. “And I regret not a minute of it. Our life was not a conventional one, but it was one that we both cherished.” His eyes flick to the baby grandfather clock in the corner and then to me again. “The hour is getting late and we don’t want to risk you getting caught, but I have one thing to say before I turn you over to your grandmother.”

“Yes,” I say, so intrigued by the ghost before me, by how captivating he is without a body. I’m only half able to comprehend the presence he would have held in physical form.

“People fight wars for power. But those who win are motivated by love. Never lose sight of that.” He smiles fondly at Tutu. “It is our love that has carried us so far, that has made us persevere when times were tough.”

“Thank you,” I say, and again I want to say more, but my mouth is dry. My thoughts clouded.

He waves his hand at me, like he’s trying to scoot me forward. “Now turn and face your tutu. I’d say I was going to give you two a private moment, but it would be a lie. I’ve always been here.”

“You’ve always been a creep like that,” Tutu says, her voice hoarse.

“You’ve always loved it about me,” he says, a smile in his tone.

“I’m not arguing that,” she says and pats the bed. “Sit, child. I only have one thing left to say to you.”

I take a seat on the side of her bed, jostling her a little. Even though I’m unsure if it’s all right I grab her hand and hold it in both of mine. “Yes, Tutu. What is it?”

“I just want to say something you already know, but you deserve to hear,” she says.

A constant ache now lives in my chest and throat, but I welcome it, because it connects me to this moment that rightfully holds pain. “Yes?”

“I love you, Em, with all my heart,” she says with a smile that I engrave in my memory and hope it stays there for eternity.

Chapter Fifteen

If I had the option of being alone with my newest pain then I’d seize it. If I could spend the rest of the day hiking, and memorializing my tutu, then I would. But that’s not an option for me. With my chin held high I return to the conversion lab, not a mark of stress on my face. However, by the end of the day, my outer casing begins to crack and I know soon the weight of my new loss will need to be acknowledged.

I manage to keep the tears tucked inside my being all day, but they are straining to be released by the time I reach Zack’s house that afternoon. Relieved that soon I’ll have a private place to grieve I slip in through the back. I haven’t completely closed the door when urgent footsteps race from the other room. A second later the kitchen door swings open and Zack stands looking at me, his face heavy with concern.

“Where have you been?” he asks, racing up to me.

I take a step back, planting my spine firmly up against the door. “At the labs,” I say, confused and instantly concerned by his urgent manner. “What’s wrong?”

“Em, it’s your tutu,” he says, slowly. His brow wrinkling with stress.

“Oh,” I say, relieved that something else hasn’t happened. I was starting to worry Nona was in trouble. “I know. She’s dead. I was with her when she passed this morning.” And my words sound too familiar. Too cold.

Zack blinks in surprise. “You went back to the labs after watching your grandmother die?”

I move to step around him, but he cuts me off.

“I had to. I can’t allow innocent kids to be converted and Ren doesn’t like working with anyone else,” I say.

He swipes his hand over his forehead, stress oozing off his movements. “Em, you’ve got to give yourself a break.”

My lip trembles. Jaw shakes. And the tears I’ve held behind the dam all day threaten to break through. I nod. “I know. That’s what I was planning on doing now.” I step again, another attempt to move around him. And again he cuts me off.

He places a firm hand on my shoulder and gives me a glassy stare. “Don’t bottle this up and deal with it alone like you did with Rogue. Let me help you.”

Of course all I want is to feel Zack’s arms wrap around me. But in two days’ time he won’t be able to comfort me anymore. I’m not sure if I want what I won’t be able to have. I sense the best way to deal with the change coming is to keep distance between us. I’m still staring up at him, hesitation riddling my expression.

“Look, just forget about last night,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.

I shake my head. “It’s not about last night, Zack. I’m just trying to wean myself off you.”

A surprised smile springs to his mouth. “Don’t be ludicrous. Now is when I can be there for you. Let’s not lose this time.”

Looking at Zack is making me feel extra vulnerable, more so than I’ve been all day. I lay my hand on top of his on my shoulder. “Fine,” I say with a fake smile. “But don’t expect me to be nice to you. That will be our deal until we part.”

“When have you ever been nice to me?” he says, relief breaking across his face. And then he does the one thing that connects me with my pain. He slides his arms around me and pulls me into him. “I was afraid you were going to keep up this charade for the next two days.”

Through the tears that have peeked through the corners of my eyes I laugh. And then I cry again, burying my face in his chest. Zack rubs my back and whispers into my hair. “I’m so sorry, Em.” And there’s real sympathy in his voice.

Then a thought occurs to me, putting an instant halt to my tears. Hope rises in my chest as I jump back out of Zack’s arms. “The wedding? Will it be postponed now? For Tutu’s memorial service?”

Zack’s face falls fast with disappointment and I don’t need him to answer my question. He narrows his eyes as he fixes his gaze on the wall behind me. “You know Dee doesn’t care about your tutu.”

“Right.” I bite on the word. “So no.” For a few seconds I expanded with hope that I had another week or maybe two with Zack, but alas no. And then the secret Tutu told me about Dee’s real father springs to my mind. I grab his hand, pulling him to the living room. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

***

“That means Rogue would have been Dee’s brother,” Zack says, looking more perplexed than he usually is.

I shiver with disgust. “Don’t go there,” I say, hurling a throw pillow at him. Why does Dee have to have a connection to the guys in my life?

“Just stating the obvious,” Zack says.

“Well then you obviously know that you’ll be fathering Vider’s grandchildren.” I don’t even have all my words out before Zack’s eyes narrow with resentment. “I told you I wasn’t going to be nice to you.”

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, blowing out a long breath. “I don’t see what good this information does us. There’s no way to prove it and uncovering it might endanger my reputation.”

“No, I don’t think you should say anything. I’m just filling you in on the numerous conspiracies I’m privy to.”

“Oh, there’s more?” Zack says, angling his eyebrow up.

“Lots more. Like not only are you having Vider’s grandchildren, but they’ll also be part Middling since my mother is half.” I duck in time to avoid the pillow Zack throws back at me.

“First of all, do you think talking like that is productive?” Zack says.

“About the demons you’ll spawn?” I say with a morbid laugh. “No, it’s not productive, but it’s keeping me from going crazy. It’s keeping me from really dealing with it.”

Zack throws his head back on the couch and presses his fingertips against his temples. “And your mother is half Middling? Did your tutu tell you that?”

“No, Uncle Ren-Ren did.”

“He’d know,” Zack says, his eyes still closed.

“And my father doesn’t know,” I say in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Your mother has a lot of secrets,” Zack says.

“I’m learning that everyone in this Valley has secrets,” I say.

Zack flips his head up and gives me a worried stare just as Nona slips through the front door. She’s dressed all in black and is scolding me with a disapproving grimace.

“You’re not ready,” she says, tapping her foot.

“Oh, right,” I say, springing up to my feet and darting for my room to dress. “Sorry.”

I throw a black hoodie on and tie my thick hair back in a contained bun. What Nona and I should be doing on the day our tutu has died is mourning with each other. Comforting one another. But there’s no time for that. Instead, we’re going to break into a water treatment plant and replace the antidepressants Vider has been drugging Middlings with, with something that has zero effect. I considered putting it off but security is minimal on Thursday nights. We shouldn’t have to worry about guards, only security cameras and a security system. It’s top notch and fooling it will be the real challenge, but I don’t have to risk harming a person and for that I’m grateful.

“Are you ready to drug a population of people?” Nona says to me with a forced smile when I bound down the stairs. Her face is puffy from crying but she’d never admit it so I refrain from asking her if she’s all right.

“We are un-drugging a population,” I correct, flashing my own false smile.

“I know, but that doesn’t sound as good,” she says.

“Okay, well, are you ready to boil some water or freeze it or whatever it takes to negate its current drugging effect?”

“Yes, but you should really leave the one-liners up to me,” she says.

I can’t help it. Looking at how hard she’s trying to contain her pain forces me to close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her, squeezing her small frame into me. I want to tell her about Ronald. I think Tutu wouldn’t mind since it’s Nona but now isn’t the time.

Nona disengages and steps back, hiding a tear. “Are you going to be able to do this or are you going to be clinging to me every five seconds?”

“I just gave you one hug. That’s all,” I say.

“It’s never just one hug with you, Em,” she says and a real smile breaks through the pain on her face.

“I can’t believe you two are doing this after losing your grandmother,” Zack says, giving me a look of incredulity.

“And I can’t believe you’re marrying a fire-breathing serpent,” I say, tightening my eyes at Zack.

“Whoa, what’s going on with you two?” Nona asks, staring between us.

“This is Em’s attempt to deal with the wedding,” Zack says in a mechanical voice. “You should tell your sister it isn’t productive.” His angry eyes are hinged on me.

“Pssh, like she’d listen to me,” Nona says and then turns and looks at me. “Hey, at least you don’t have to attend the wedding. I’ve got to wear stockings and shoes that will no doubt give me blisters.”

I’m still regarding Zack with a hostile stare. “Blame him for it. He’s the one who got himself in this mess.”

He closes his eyes and exhales. When he opens them he’s resigned a bit. “Be careful, you two. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

***

Thirty-four. That’s how many security cameras are stationed in and around the water treatment plant. There’s one guy named Ted who sits in a control room in the basement and watches the camera feeds. He’s an elderly Middling according to the information Zack gave me. But he has a direct line to an offsite security force which can storm the water treatment plant in less than three minutes. To our advantage the security system was just recently upgraded and has had many glitches. So when certain cameras mysteriously go out tonight, I’m hoping Ted doesn’t grow suspicious.

Leeching Tutu this morning proved to have many benefits. Now I have stored enough energy to power my electricity. I point a finger at the camera that hovers just above the side entrance. It’s rotates back and forth every few seconds catching any activity in this area. A neat spark of electricity springs out of the end of my finger and connects with the camera. It sizzles and then the red blinking light disappears.

One down.

It’s crucial that we don’t draw any attention to the break-in. If Vider figures out what we’ve done then he’ll undo it. Luckily cameras malfunction from electrical problems all the time.

“Come on. Let’s go,” I say, grabbing Nona’s hand and pulling her to the door. It’s locked by a simple system that disengages with a single swipe of a security badge. This isn’t where Vider invested in security. I pull the door open and see exactly what Vider spent his upgrades on. A hundred red lasers zigzag up and down the corridor. A single push door stands on the far end and through that door are the plant and the labs where the chemicals are kept.

“Uh, is this when you inform me you’ve become a contortionist?” Nona says.

“No, this is when I inform you that Vider is smart, but that guy forgets who he’s messing with. Make it rain, Nona,” I say, pointing to the water sprinklers overhead. Her head flips up to the spigots lining the ceiling and then my intention dawns on her.

“You think I can make those rain?”

“I think they’re a water source, so yes. Just draw out the water piping to them,” I say, scanning the area to ensure we’re not missing a potential hazard. The plans Zack shared with me appear to be exact.

“You got it, chief,” she says and raises her hand in the air, pointing at the closest spigot. Her face screws up with concentration. Her nose bunches up. Her lips press together.

A zipping noise springs from the sprinkler and then a small spray of water. Too small.

“Come on, Nona. Make it rain. Like monsoon rain.”

She squeezes her eyes together and when they rip open there’s a heated determination written on her face. Her outstretched hand trembles. And then the sprinkler spurts out a few sprays of water followed by a steady rain.

“Yeah,” I say in an excited whisper. “Brilliant job.”

Nona drops her hand, looking exhausted.

“One. Two. Three,” I count. “Voilà,” I say when all the lasers disappear at once.

“How’d you know they’d do that?” Nona says, shielding her face from the water spraying overhead.

“It’s a system rule Zack informed me about. The sprinklers override the laser system. Now shut that thing off,” I say, pointing to the sprinkler.

She flicks her hand and the spraying turns into a small drizzle.

I stalk toward the door on the other side.

“Isn’t that going to get attention from Ted?” Nona asks, hurrying up beside me.

“Nope,” I say, popping my lips together. “He monitors the cameras only and the sprinklers have been having this problem lately, which is why the lasers are programmed to turn off. Although water is harmless to the lasers, the system that powers them can be fried by it.”

“You’re a genius,” Nona says in awe.

I stick my ear up against the cold metal door, listening for any Middling activity on the other side. “Zack’s the brains. I’m just the freak with nothing left to lose and therefore every reason to put myself in danger.” I push the door open a few inches to gauge the scene on the other side.

“You could still lose me,” Nona says in a tortured whisper.
I flip my head around to face her. “That is never going to happen.”

Chapter Sixteen

Five cameras were fried. One laser system shut down. And thousands of gallons of water have been boiled and then returned to room temperature. And now the chemical set up to trickle into the water supply does absolutely nothing. Soon the Middlings of Austin Valley will wake up to find themselves in an authentic state of being. They may find themselves suddenly stressed by the long hours of work. Or saddened by their run-down living quarters. Whatever they feel will be their true emotions. And then it will be time to destroy the brainwashing and finally recruit my army.

Although my mind is spinning with the multiple tasks I’ve got to systematically accomplish, my thoughts are monopolized by a single worry:

Tomorrow morning my best friend will marry my demonic sister.

I throw all of my clothes into my duffel bag. I don’t have much, only things “bought” for me by Rogue. His gift of apportation ensured I always had whatever I needed. I pull the cashmere sweater he gave me from Paris over my head. I yank the sleeves over my thumbs and cuddle into the soft fabric. Rogue, like me, believed clothes should serve the person, not deceive others with a false appearance. I loved how utilitarian he always was with his dress. I smile thinking about him. He will always bring a smile to my face.

My room will be professionally cleaned before Dee takes ownership of the house, but I do a double check under the bed and in the closet to ensure I haven’t missed anything. Tonight will be my last night here. Tomorrow morning, while everyone in the Valley is attending the wedding, I’ll move my belongings to Parker’s. It seems weird to think about being roommates with the doctor. But he’s my friend after all. It will definitely give Soon-hee the wrong idea and false hope about any romantic potential between Parker and me. And yet I don’t think her inkling about us is entirely misplaced. At least Parker’s lingering gazes the other night over dinner gave me a new impression.

I shake off this worry and head downstairs. I slouch onto the sofa and bury my face in the pillow, depression tunneling in my thoughts. Two months I’ve lived in this house and it’s felt right. Comfortable. Inviting. Not once have I worried for my safety, which is a welcoming feeling since every moment outside this house is blanketed with fear. But maybe some of my melancholy is work related and not all about Zack. At the lab today a whopping eight kids decided to be converted. There was this look of fear in their eyes. It was new and not something I’ve encountered with any of the other kids I gave the choice to. It leads me to think Vider has altered his brainwashing. Hinted at punishing dividers. Every Thursday night he requires Dream Travelers to dream travel to a lecture in a safe location: a hall, amphitheater, auditorium. Some place boring. Whatever the speech was about last night, something frightened the Defects.

The clink of a glass grabs my attention. I didn’t know Zack was home yet. The sun hasn’t quite set. I drag myself off the couch and trudge a bit melodramatically to the kitchen. When I push the door open Zack is leaning over the sink swirling water around in a tumbler. He pops a small white pill in his mouth, a painkiller, and throws his head back and takes a drink.

“This has got to be the lamest bachelor party ever,” I say from the doorway.

A bit too slowly he turns around and nods.

“Headache?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing his forehead.

“You know I don’t like it when people I care about get headaches,” I say, my voice haunted with a coarseness.

“It’s just from stress, Em.”

“I know.” And although I want to make another joke about him marrying a monster I keep it trapped in my mouth. He looks demoralized enough. “Are you hungry?” I ask.

He glares at me, irritation oozing off him. “What do you think?”

He’s lost even more weight. Zack still looks healthy with his slender build, but I don’t like the idea that he’s not eating regularly.

“Fine,” I say, “go on a hunger strike if you like but I did have Nona get us something.”

He arches a curious eyebrow at me.

“Come here,” I say and head back to the living room, knowing he’ll follow.

Right where she said she’d leave it is a white paper box. I pluck it from the coffee table and offer it to Zack, who’s right behind me. His eyes first show confusion followed by comprehension, and then a tiny spark of excitement hits them.

“Is this…?”

“Yep,” I say, reading the question in his eyes.

“How did she get him—”

“She’s Nona,” I interrupt. “She can convince a starving man to give up his last morsel of food.”

Zack gently opens the lid of the box and peers inside. I haven’t checked its contents yet so I stand up on my tippy toes and take a look. Sitting on a sheet of parchment paper are two fresh cannoli.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” Zack says, staring at the cream-filled bubbly pastries drizzled in chocolate and dusted in powdered sugar.

I plant my hands on my hips. “Of course I remembered. While you store useless political crap in your brain, I store the little tidbits people say in passing.”

When Zack, Rogue, and I were ten years old my family chef Giorgio made us cannoli. We ate so many that we got sick. All three of us lay on the living room floor holding our stomachs and complaining. It was after that that my father ordered Giorgio to never ever make the delicious pastries. That next morning Zack admitted he’d eaten too many, but that it was worth it because they were the best thing he’d ever had.

“There’s only two,” I say with a giant smile.

“No stomachaches,” he says.

Feeling suddenly nervous I say, “I know it’s silly, but I just thought it would be a fun way to spend our last night together.”

His eyes dart down to the cannoli, unmistakable heartache in them. “Right,” he says. “That was a thoughtful idea.”

I tug on the sleeve of his shirt. The gesture we’ve been doing all our lives to gain the other person’s attention. He brings his eyes to mine.

“To use your words, let’s not lose this time,” I say.

***

The cannoli is richer than I remember. The first bite coats my mouth in a cool sweetness. Every bite after that reminds me there is less of the Italian treasure left to enjoy now. I slide my last bite over to Zack, who’s sitting on the floor with me.

“Here, you have it,” I say.

Zack eyes it and then me.

“Don’t make me tell you twice,” I say, rolling my eyes. I lean back, resting my aching muscles against the couch.

He pinches the last piece of pastry between his fingers and pops it in his mouth. A perfectly content smile on his face.

“Hey,” I say, sitting up against the couch. “If I wasn’t an outlaw, then I’d be your best woman for the ceremony, since Rogue is dead and all.”

Zack tucks his chin and gives me a brazenly playful look. “You’d be it even if he wasn’t.”

“Oh really?” I tease.

“Yes, really.”

I smile, enjoying how the sugar and fondness has bred some happy emotions. We needed them. I almost feel giddy with some strange excitement. It seems to squash out the reason for the celebration. Whatever is infecting the moment is suppressing all the ill feelings. Maybe Giorgio put some of Vider’s happy pills in the cannoli.

“He loved you so much,” Zack says, staring off at a distant corner.

I shoot him a confused look and he must read it from his peripheral. “Rogue,” he says in response to my questioning expression. “It was actually pretty sweet to see.” Strangely he sounds like he’s admitting something begrudgingly.

“Yeah, well I still don’t know what was wrong with him that he was so enamored with me.”

Zack laughs. A pure one. Full of warmth. Then he scoots his feet underneath him and stretches into a standing position. “I know exactly why he was so enamored with you.” He turns and regards me from up high. A sweet sentiment on his face. “And I know exactly how he felt, because I feel the same way about you, in my own way, of course.”

And like he hasn’t just said something that shatters my world he turns and trots toward the stairs. My reality starts to move in slow motion. I make note of Zack floating off to the stairs. And then in my head a dozen conversations play at once. All conversations with him that I always thought I misread. Conversations where Zack hinted at feeling something for me. But I always knew he couldn’t mean it. He was teasing me. I was misreading him. I was an idiot. But how could I misread what he just said? I feel the same way about you.

He’s at the landing of the stairs when I scramble to a standing position. My heart racing in my chest. My blood beating like it’s trying to find a way out of my being. My head echoing with his words. “Zack,” I say, caution in my voice.

He pauses on the foot of the stairs, but doesn’t grant me a look.

Now that I have his attention, I’m not sure what to say. Disbelief clouds my thoughts, delays all my movements as I step closer to the stairs. “Uhhh…what are you saying? Are you in love with me?” And I want to take the question back as soon as I say it. My words sound so stupid out loud.

A look of punishment and also forbidden joy graces his features. He brings his dark blue eyes up and stares at me. “For all my life, Em. Every day I’ve breathed,” he says, his tone even, his voice deep with emotion. And then he keeps moving, like a zombie, like he hasn’t just made a major confession that warrants more of a conversation. He takes four steps before I reach the side of the staircase.

“What?!” I say, looking up at him. He halts, still facing forward.

Zack seems to calculate something in his mind, and then he backs down to the bottom stair so he’s looking at me straight on, over the banister. There’s a beautiful pain in his eyes. “All my life, Em, I’ve worshipped you. So yes, I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice quiet, each of his words deliberate.

My skin is shivering, laced with a tingling sensation, but inside my chest my heart is a furnace. “Zack, why are just now telling me this?” I say, a firm edge to my voice.

He shakes his head, a look of frustration spiking his features. “Because I’m dumb, Em.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” I argue.

“I’m dumb with emotions. I’m torturing myself now. I know that I’ll never get another opportunity to confess myself to you, so this is my poor attempt at it. I’m sorry,” he says.

I march around the banister and step until we’re occupying the same stair. He turns to face me. “Zack Conerly, I’ve been in love with you for years.” And I’m not sure why, but my words sound stern. “I’ve prayed for you to feel the same way about me and also punished myself for even having such hope.”

His face registers a look of shock, but then it quickly morphs into something I can’t read.

“Do you realize what this means?” Again my tone is demanding. “Do you realize what this means for us?”

He angles his head down and focuses on the runner under our feet. “You don’t get it, Em. It’s too late. It’s too late for us. For love.”

This can’t be happening. Not after everything I’ve lost. After everything that’s slipped through my fingers. I won’t let it. I take one step, so I’m a little higher than him, turn and face him and lock my knees in place. “Do. Not. Marry. Her.”

A pained smile wraps around his mouth. He shakes his head at me, like I fail to understand a perfectly evident truth. “Em, you and I can’t end up together. You’re too heartbroken and I’m too involved.”

“What?” I say, staring at his eyes which refuse to look at me. They are angrily pinned on something behind me, something that doesn’t matter. “How can you say that? You’ve never even given me a chance and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me like this? Why tell me at all?”

Slowly, almost methodically, he slides his tortured eyes over until they collide with mine. “It was obviously a mistake. I apologize.” Zack sidesteps me and marches up the stairs.

Knowing that chances are lost in a single second I race up the stairs, passing him. When I’m a step ahead of Zack I halt and turn to him, pushing both my arms out beside me to create a barrier. One hand locks onto the banister. The other onto the wall. “Stop,” I say.

Zack pauses and regards me with an indecipherable expression. Standing on the step above him, at his same height, I am eye to eye with him. “Please don’t do this,” I say, allowing my hands to fall back by my sides. “Please. If you are in love with me, then don’t walk away from this. Don’t marry her.”

Zack’s eyes press shut. Clench. And when they open, there’s a new determination in them. A gasp escapes my mouth when he pins both his hands on my hips. His cold fingertips press into my skin. I lean my body weight more into his hands. And just when I expect him to tug me into him, he yanks me to the side and out of his path. I don’t reach out for him as he marches past me and up the stairs. Away.

Without moving I crumble into a mess of tears on the stairs. Not caring he can hear my sobs, I let them echo my disappointment across his house. For an hour I sit cradling my own arms. And then the strength hits me and I stand suddenly and walk out his front door. Away from my best friend and my greatest regret.

I march step after step until I find the statue of the lady of justice in the main square and I destroy her using the small bit of electricity stored in my being. Then without an option I return to Zack’s house, shivering from the cold in my bones. His light is off when I prowl to my room and slip the door shut. I lock it and crawl into my bed, wishing I was a simple girl with simple friends, not ones I fall in love with. I drop into a stupid foggy sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

Zack’s knocking is what wakes me. It’s loud. Continuous.

The clock tells me it’s early morning. Outside, rain pelts my window. I pull a pillow over my head, which does little to muffle my pain. The church bells in the distance is what tells me a wedding is still scheduled in a couple of hours.

And yet his knocking continues.

“What?” I croak out from under my pillow.

“Open the door, Em,” he says, his voice a rush of desperation.

I can’t figure out if he’s the stupid one or if I am. Currently I vote that we’re both idiots.

“Never,” I say.

“Em,” he says, that punishing quality to his voice.

“Never, ever,” I say for good measure. He really must be the stupidest person on this earth to tell me he’s in love with me on the night before his wedding to my sister. I bury my head further into my bed, scooping up covers to entomb me. And still I hear his pleas on the other side of the door.

“Please, Em, we need to talk.”

If talk means discussing how we can’t be together and we’ll sacrifice our lives for a war, then I think I’d rather stay in this chrysalis of cotton I’ve made for myself. Instead I say, “Leave me alone, Zack.”

“Em…” he says, drawing out my name, punctuating it with pain.

“Forever and ever leave me alone, Zack,” I say, my lips brushing the sheets covering my head with each word.

His breath slides in rasps through the door. “I have to marry her.”

I whip my head out from under the covers and pillows so my voice isn’t muffled, so he can hear me clearly. “Go away, Zack!”

“For the love of the gods, open this door, Em. Let me talk to you before I can’t.”

His words are little shards of glass emptied into my heart. I twist into a ball and they rattle around, creating tiny cuts. “No!” I scream, pulling up the sides of the pillow under my head, making it anchor me to the bed. My voice is clear and loud now. “If you’ve been so great at pretending you weren’t in love with me then you’ll be great at pretending you love her,” I say, my words full of my vengeful regrets.

A loud assault hits the side of the wall. The sound of Zack’s fist making contact with the plaster, maybe breaking through it.

“Gods, Em,” he says, his voice smaller now. More pleading. “Please understand. I have to do this.”

I throw myself into a sitting position. I throw on my “heartless hat” and find it fits just fine this morning. It’s never quite fit as well as it does now. “Hey,” I say, my voice cool, calm. “Don’t guilt yourself. I’m already taken. I’m married to this war.”

“Open up, Em,” he pleads.

“Go. Away. Zack,” I say, covering the emotions brewing to the surface.

For a full minute I listen to him breathing, stirring on the other side of the door. I sit stiffly in the bed, sheets and comforter wrapped around me. And then his soft-soled shoes echo down the other side of the hallway and he’s gone.

***

I shower and get ready. By the time I leave my room several hours have passed and I know everyone is at the wedding. My timing to travel to Parker’s will be perfect. I might even have a chance to destroy some of the stereogram posters that display subliminal messages around town. I open the door and bound out, hungry and thirsty from all the tears. I’ve made it all the way down the stairs before I see him. Propped in the corner of the hallway is a stoic Zack. He’s been waiting for me.

The sight of him makes me flinch. Seeing him wearing a black tuxedo twists my stomach into tight knots. I cover up my fright and revulsion with an awkward sigh and stalk past him, toward the kitchen. But he reaches out and grabs my wrist, twisting me around to face him.

“You’re going to be late to your own wedding,” I say, pulling myself free of him.

“Then I will be late,” he says, a cold edge in his voice.

“Zack, you’ve made it clear there’s no reason for us to talk. Why are you torturing me like this?”

“Because I need to see you one last time,” he says, his voice just above a whisper.

I suck in a tear trying to escape. “That’s selfish.”

“I know,” he says again in a hush. I strain to hear him over the rain beating down overhead.

“Do you want to reiterate your love for me and then walk away? Is that what you had in mind for this conversation?”

“Em, I can’t change what has to happen any more than I can change how I feel about you. I’ve tried on both accounts.”

“You don’t have to be Chief of Staff,” I say.

He sighs heavily. “I do though.”

My anger and heartache take over me. Send me into an out of control state of being. Before I can stop myself I leech Zack’s power of telekinesis and yank the hundreds of books in the living room off their shelves and to the ground. They clatter into a giant heap. Unleashed dust rises up like a cloud in the air. Zack doesn’t even flinch. Instead he keeps his eyes on me. A quiet regret in them.

“I realize you’re upset and that I’ve hurt you,” he says, his voice deliberate.

“That statement completely trivializes the way I actually feel,” I scream and leech him again, this time bringing the three lamps in the room down on their sides, their shades folding in, their bulbs bursting.

The cleaning crew will think he had a crazy party last night. And still Zack is regarding me with unending patience. But he’s also wearing that stupid mask. The one he’s worn our entire life, hid behind. Hid his love for me behind.

“We are both heartbroken, Em. But the fact remains that I need to marry Dee. And even if I didn’t have to marry her, I’m not who you really want.”

My eyes flash down to my stomach. I’m certain I’ve just been punched in the gut. But Zack’s balled fists remain by his side. It’s his words that have assaulted me. Their meaning bruising my insides. “What? You think I want Rogue?” I shake my head at him. “His soul has long moved on. A cold decayed body is all that remains of him now. And for those few short months we were together I did want Rogue. But all my life I’ve wanted you. I’ve always been in love with you. Even Rogue knew that.”

He bristles at the confession.

“It’s true,” I say.

“Please stop, Em,” he begs. “This is just making it harder.”

“You’re the one who stuck around to see me one last time,” I say, using his words.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, his voice sounding dead. “I’m sorry for when and how I told you my feelings. It was all wrong and I can’t take it back.”

“What baffles me is that we both felt the same way about each other, but we were too stubborn to admit it,” I say, so furious at the both of us.

“I had my reasons. A plan,” he says.

“Yeah, well I don’t want to know any more than you’ve told me,” I say, anger flaring in my words. I’ve never spoken to Zack with such disdain. I’ve never felt this much contempt toward him. I back for the door, shaking my head at him, my eyes overflowing with disappointment.

“This is not the way I want to end this,” he says, making up the space between us.

End this. I loathe those words. And like the rain coming down overhead my tears roll over my cheeks. And at the sight of my tears Zack looks to be the one assaulted now. He reaches out for me, but I hold up a commanding hand stopping him. “Don’t,” I say and that one word seems to have the capacity to freeze him and also break something inside of him.

“Em, please…”

I corral my tears back inside me. Muster a new strength. “After seventeen years of friendship, I don’t want it to end like this either. I don’t want it to end at all, but we don’t really have a choice, do we?” I say each word individually, and my voice is too matter-of-fact. Too cold. All wrong for the moment.

I allow Zack to take two steps until he’s right up against me. I don’t move, just stare up at his denim-blue eyes. “We always have a choice about how we end things,” he says. Tilting his round chin to the side, he leans down. I slide my hand up until it’s flush against his chest, my fingers grazing the breast buttons of his tuxedo shirt. He leans in closer, seeming to gauge me and this moment. And then the part of me which never wants the memory of his lips on mine etched into my mind, forces my hand to push him back, away from me. Confused heartbreak stretches across his face.

“Whatever you do, don’t make her happy,” I say with a voice that doesn’t sound like mine. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

I wrench open the door to be greeted by a flooding walkway and a haze of rain. With only a second’s hesitation I march over the threshold and out into the storm. I’m half soaked and halfway down the walk when I turn to see Zack in the doorway, a look of tormented heartache written on his face. And because I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut I turn to him and say too loudly, “Just tell me to come back and I will. Tell me you won’t marry her and I’ll be by your side.”

He shudders, probably from the burden I’ve just placed on him. Then he shakes his head, a deliberate movement. “Go, Em. There’s no future for us.”

I nod, and it carries with it the weight to stop my heart beating, but still it does. Probably because my urge to curse Zack is so strong. My best friend. I’ve never loved and hated someone with so much ferocity. I hold my head up high as I move through the streets, allowing the rain to pelt me. I don’t look back at his house, but I do feel his eyes on my back. Searing me. I know I’m being cruel, but I don’t know where else to stand in this battle. He’s my best friend and he’s about to desert me for a stupid war I created. I hate myself as much as I hate him. Everything is wrong about this moment. As the heartbroken crusader I’m supposed to care only for the people I’m fighting for. But the gods can damn me if they want to because I also want him. Selfishly, I want him even if it hurts our war effort. But that destiny is gone. Already spun and tarnished.

Chapter Eighteen

The freezing rain soaks through my clothes at once but I barely notice. I’m only half aware of my drenched hair or my water-logged shoes. Honestly the flames in my chest own my attention. I don’t know if they’re a result of my broken heart or the energy I just leeched out of Zack. I only leeched him twice but the energy I stole to pull those books, which must have weighed close to a ton, was enormous. And moving multiple objects at once is incredibly draining. It took Zack years to move more than one thing at a time with his mind. And with just the urge to do so I whipped almost five hundred books from their resting place. Not only do I worry that I need to expel this energy, but I also worry that I’ve exhausted Zack. I’ll never know if that’s true though…

Since I electrocuted the TV station antenna Vider has had that antenna and the radio one reinforced against lightning. The team he had do it probably thought the President was worried about summer lightning storms and not a seventeen-year-old girl. Vider’s micromanagement of this Valley hasn’t been lost on me. Aside from access to records and data I’m not sure what kind of influence Zack hopes to have. Vider oversees everything in his Valley. As the only Dream Traveler here who doesn’t have their dream travel time regulated, Vider, I assume, uses that time to rule over every part of this town. Well, he’s the only one who dream travels freely besides me. Rogue used dream travel time to build a house. Vider uses his to corrupt a once democratic government.

The streets are deserted. Not just because of the rain storm, which has thankfully backed off to a drizzle, but also because everyone in the Valley is invited to the wedding. Well, everyone but me. Fugitives aren’t usually on guest lists to these kinds of events.

Since I can’t go after the TV station again, I decide to destroy the second biggest place where Vider churns out subliminal messages to the Valley. I’m relieved to find the lock to the Austin Valley News is quite simple. One that doesn’t even give me a sweat. I’m through the door and in the main warehouse within minutes. When I was in third grade my class toured the newspaper, which has been providing the Valley news for several decades. My memory from then is intact. I know to cut around the reporters’ station and that I’ll find the printing press and stores of newspapers in the warehouse off the eastern side. The newspaper station is as eerily quiet as the streets. I’m sure the newspaper hasn’t closed down completely in…well, maybe ever. Every reporter is at the wedding. But they will be buzzing back here soon to type up their articles about how lovely the bride was and how handsome—

I cut off my thoughts, not wanting to make myself sick here. My anger does make me hasty, though, and I throw my hand out without a thought, allowing the surge of the power I stole from Zack to funnel out of me into a blast of dangerous electricity. I aim it at the thousands of boxes holding unprinted paper knowing they’ll make the fire burn fast and hot. But too much electricity shoots out of me at once. Too fast. I was right about the quantity of energy I leeched from Zack. It’s a deadly amount. The blast shoots me back. Wind whooshes by me in a quick rush. And then before my thoughts catch up, my back rams into something sharp and hard. I’m just about to stand up when something falls. My collision caused a shelf to tumble over and the objects rain down on me. Heavy, piercing objects. And I’m too slow to cover my head when a printer cartridge starts to slide from overhead. It’s about the size of a mailbox. And I notice that just as it careens down and slams onto my head. The scene before me turns fuzzy, and then hazy. My last sight is of the orange fire spreading in front of me. The last thing I remember is smoke and then my world goes dark.

Chapter Nineteen

A heat so hot I think I’ve been transported to the center of the sun wakes me. I blink my eyes open but the smoke burns too much. And in my strobe-like vision I know I can’t see much past the curtain of smoke anyway. The entire warehouse is on fire, the printing press engulfed in hot white and yellow flames. The blast pushed me to the far side of the warehouse but at the rate the fire is moving I won’t beat it to the exit. And the smoke. Coughs seize my chest. Barrel though my lungs. Make my eyes water uncontrollably.

I reach for my duffel bag and to my relief find it still strapped to my shoulder. Without moving from my lying position I unzip the bag a few inches and dig inside until my fingers connect with fabric. I rip whatever garment it is out and tie it around my head, covering my mouth and nose at once. It does little to help the poisonous fumes I’m inhaling. Chemicals from the press waft in the air intermingling with the smoke, each fighting to be what kills me.

Only when I roll over on my stomach do I see the small puddle of blood under me. My neck is drenched but that could be from the sweat pouring off me. I push up on all fours and that’s when I realize something is incredibly wrong with my back. A stabbing pain that paralyzes me sears from my shoulder. The scream that escapes my mouth can’t be heard over the crackling fire.

Fire. I remember now, although I’m not sure how I’d forget with the walls melting around me. I move one hand and the opposite knee. The movement is enough to rip my life right out of me. Blood begins to drip off my head, leaving a trail. And my progress is too slow. The fire moving too fast. I flip my head up and just then an explosion rocks the concrete floor under me and sends fiery debris everywhere. I allow myself to fall to the ground but only half cover my head from the ash and sparks that singe my clothes and hair.

I’m going to die here. I’ve all but killed myself. My anger got the better of me. My leeching power will burn me alive as Ren always warned. I push onto all fours but the attempt is useless. My back can’t support me. My head is swimming. I fall back on the concrete, my face colliding with the burning hot floor. I’m going to die. But it’s okay. I’m coming, Rogue. I’ll see you soon, Tutu.

***

“Oh no you don’t, luv,” a voice says from the corner of my consciousness. “There will be no giving up for you, not just yet.” It’s Ren’s thick accented voice, but that makes no sense. I’m alone. Dying. This must be a final hallucination before I pass.

A hand wrenches around my shoulder. I want to open my eyes. Want to hold my head up but my neck won’t support it. My head bobbles back and forth.

“You’re not leaving me to deal with this mess all alone,” the voice says. My arm is draped around a shoulder and in one giant pull I’m yanked to my feet, although I remain hunched. “Now what do you say we make haste? This place is making me sweat.”

I will my feet to move under me. I’m just aware enough to feel the blast of the heat of the fire as we near the exit. And then we’re through and suddenly the temperature drops and with it I drop to my knees too. “Oh, no you don’t,” he says with a determined growl. “On your feet at once.”

Not having a blanket of smoke around me anymore, I open my eyes to see his red hair swim in front of me. This isn’t a hallucination. It’s real.

“Ren?” I ask, confused.

“That’s right, luv,” he says with a surprising grin. “I’m here to save the day. You’ll get a bill for it later, but for now what do you say we get the hell out of here? That warehouse won’t keep the fire at bay for long and I’m guessing the authorities will be on their way soon.”

With a strength I didn’t know he possessed my uncle pulls me through the news station just as another explosion rocks the building. We duck as we head through the door and across the street. We don’t stop in the narrow alley, although my aching lungs need to rest.

“I have to stop,” I say, my voice raw.

“Not yet you don’t,” Ren says, flipping his head over his shoulder to ensure we’re not being followed. His steady breaths grow heavier with every step. And then finally he says, “A little farther now.”

We round a corner. And then another before he lets go of me. Ren doesn’t try to help me stay standing when I slump and fall down against a brick wall. He does stare down at me from his standing position, exhaustion marking the features of his face. “That wasn’t very graceful, was it?”

“My back,” I wheeze.

“And you’re not the one looking at the bloody gash on your head,” he says, shivering with repulsion.

With a shaking hand I reach up, but yank it away before it connects with the searing gash I feel in my head. “I need help.”

“And I’m trying to get you to that ‘help,’” Ren says with a dramatic sigh. “You’re the one panting and asking for a break.”

“I almost died,” I say, and then something so heartwarming it almost heals a bit of my pain takes over me. “But you saved me.”

“Don’t make a big deal of it,” he says with a growl.

“How?” I ask.

“I saw smoke coming from the eastern side of the building,” he says, boredom in his tone. “I knew everyone was at the wedding. I put two and two together. Figured out you created the fire and when you didn’t come out of the building I realized right then you were going to spoil my night.”

“Thanks,” I say dully.

“You are most not welcome. I don’t like to make a habit of saving people, it creates all sorts of devoted-type behavior.”

I try to sit up, but my back screams from the effort. “Don’t worry, if you’re dying I’ll let you,” I say, clenching my teeth from the pain.

“You’re a kind soul, aren’t you?” Ren says and then offers me his manicured hand. “Come on, luv. Let’s get you to where you were off to before you almost killed yourself. The doctor won’t be happy to see you in this state.”

I give him a questioning look. “You know I’m headed to Parker’s?”

“I know a lot of things,” he says with a sneaky grimace. “Like that for instance, you’re bitter that Zack’s marrying your sister.”

I hook my arm around Ren’s shoulder and allow him to manage some of my weight as we trudge down the alley.

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“When is everyone going to realize I see everything?” Ren says smugly. “Like I know you’re in love with the blond currently offering himself up to your sister. And she’s only your half-sister because your mother is naughty. And the blond is absolutely in love with you, but talk about tragic because this isn’t turning out well at all for either of you. But hey, you do have the nice Asian doctor who’s smitten with you.”

I go to shake my head, but the effect makes me think I’ll pass out. “Fine, you may know a thing or two, but you’re wrong on that last part,” I say, stumbling over my feet.

“I’m not,” he says, a smile in his voice. “But whatever.”

“What else do you know?” I say when we stop to check that the street we need to cross to get to Parker’s is clear.

“I know that the bloody wound on your back has ruined my best suit,” Ren says, pulling me across the wet street. “And I know that you’re going to hate what the doctor has to do to fix your shoulder.”

“What’s wrong with my shoulder?” I ask, knowing it’s unwise to turn my head to look for myself.

“It’s dislocated. It’s going to hurt like bloody hell when he resets it,” he says matter-of-factly. “I might even stay and watch.”

“You’re a sick individual,” I say as I use my last bit of reserves to climb the steps to Parker’s house.

“Why thank you,” Ren says, pushing the door open and dragging me inside the now familiar house. “Where do you want me to put you?” he asks, scanning the house.

I think of Parker’s bedroom, and the memory of watching Rogue die there flashes across my memory. “The couch,” I say. Ren doesn’t set me down as much as lets me slide from his grip and topple toward the sofa. Somehow I manage to land on the cushions, although I almost hit the floor. “Thanks,” I say, not meaning it.

“Don’t mention it. I’m going to pop off to grab some towels. Don’t want you ruining the good doctor’s furniture,” he says and trots down the hallway.

I teeter back and forth, conscious that the pain has risen to such a gross height that I’m close to passing out from it. It’s then that a chilly draft passes over me. “Hey, Young-chol. Don’t worry, Parker and Soon-hee are fine.” I hope my words put the ghost’s fears to rest at once.

Ren returns with what looks like old towels stuffed under his arm. He tosses them on the side of the couch and I fall over on them at once, lying on the opposite side of my dislocated shoulder. The gash in my head sears with mind-shocking pain when it connects with the towel-covered couch. A yelp rips out of my mouth.

“You be sure to rest up,” Ren says, turning and making for the door. “I expect you at the conversion lab on Monday morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble into the couch.

“Oh, and by the way, luv…”

With one eye obstructed by the couch I just catch Ren standing in the entryway. “Nice work with burning down the newspaper. Next time try and not get yourself almost killed in the process.”

“Noted,” I say, my eyes falling closed at once and the world disappearing.

Chapter Twenty

“Em!” a frantic voice says. It’s unmistakably Parker’s.

Twice I try to open my eyes, but they feel melted shut. Finally I achieve the incredibly difficult task and peel one eye open. Parker is squatted down low, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Hi,” I say, my voice sounding like that of an old woman.

“You’re hurt…” he says, looking me over.

“Yep,” I say, rolling over just enough so that my other eye isn’t obstructed by the bloodied towel. It’s then that I’m glad I’m lying down. Otherwise I’d pass out from the room suddenly spinning. I press my eyes shut and wait for my world to right itself.

“What happened?” Parker says, his voice growing distant. His hurried steps make me think he’s gone off to retrieve something.

“Newspaper,” is the only word I can manage.

He returns a few seconds later caring a medical bag. “You did that?”

“Yep,” I say with a prideful smile that instantly I regret since it somehow makes my head explode with pain.

“It nearly burned to the ground before the fire department got there. There’s not much left,” he says, pulling supplies out of his bag. “How long were you in there?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, mystified that I got out a full sentence.

“We need you to sit up. I want you breathing oxygen,” he says, securing a face mask over my mouth which quickly delivers cool air to my burning lungs. Almost instantly life starts to return to my body, which sadly makes me too aware of my wounds, which all take polite turns screaming for my attention.

I pull the oxygen mask to the side. Parker is up close, inspecting the gash along the side of my head. “Why do you have all these supplies?” I ask, motioning to the bag and mini oxygen tank.

“We’re preparing for a war, aren’t we?”

“Touché,” I say, pressing the mask back over my mouth.

“Where else are you hurt?” Parker says, digging in his bag again.

Using my good arm I point at my back. Parker takes a seat on the sofa beside me and pulls up my shirt. His careful fingers graze my skin, inspecting. He blows out a long breath. “That’s a pretty deep laceration, and the shoulder, it’s…”

“Dislocated,” I say, my voice muffled under the mask.

“Yeah,” Parker says, regret in his voice. “But I can give you something for the pain. It will help, but not as much as I would like. Sorry, Em.” He kneels down in front of me, a look of sincere remorse on his face. “But you’ll live and that’s what matters.”

I reach out with my good arm and squeeze his hand on his knee. “Thanks,” I say. “I’m grateful that I have a doctor friend who can sew me up and put me back together.”

“Anytime,” Parker says with a wink. He stands and pulls off his suit jacket, which reminds me about where he just came from.

Shivering from the oxygen I pull the mask completely off. “How was it?” I ask. “The wedding?”

He turns and gives me a startled expression. “Let’s discuss that later. Right now, I need your full attention. Resetting that shoulder is going to take some cooperation on your part.” Parker rolls up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and then pulls a pair of shiny metal scissors from the bag.

My brow wrinkles at the sight of the scissors. “What are those for?”

“Your shirt,” he says, unable to cover an embarrassed grin. “I’ve got to cut it off.”

***

I only passed out on the first attempt to relocate my shoulder. And it only took Parker two more attempts to get it right. The eight stitches on the side of my forehead and the twenty on my back were a piece of cake after that.

I awake from a groggy sleep that coats my mind with a coarse ache. The last thing I remember is Parker telling me he had something to do and he’d be close while I slept. Sleep then tore through my consciousness at once, carting me off to a land of strange dreams.

As I lie on my stomach, my nostrils are assaulted by the smell of smoke. With a loose strand of my hair in my face I recognize there’s no quick way to escape the odor. It’s on me. I test my muscles as I push up to a sitting position. A sticky bandage is strapped to the side of my head. And under a clean shirt is a bandage on my back that makes note of each of my movements. I know at once that painkillers are making movement possible. Hell, the meds are making this moment possible, otherwise I’d probably be passed out from the pain. Still, a groan spills out of my lips when I test my shoulder and find it has an odd click to it upon rotating.

Parker slips in from the kitchen and leans against the door frame. He crosses an ankle over the other and offers me an amused smile. “And so she stirs,” he says, his voice casual, relaxed.

“Uh,” I groan, stretching my neck from side to side. “How long was I out?” I say, my voice scratchy.

“Most of the day,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. For some reason he’s wearing a satisfied grin. Actually he appears a little giddy.

I flick my eyes at the stained glass window along the door. No light streams through it. It’s night.

“You aren’t kidding. I slept like six hours.”

“Eight,” he corrects.

“Thanks, Dr. Specific.” My mouth is dry and my throat feels on the brink of cracking. Like a genie has just granted my wish I notice a glass of water on the table beside me. I press it to my lips and swallow down its contents in a few quick gulps. Upon bringing the glass down I notice the bloodied towels now ruined that sit in a heap on the floor. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I’m the worst house guest, aren’t I?

Parker’s grin lights up his eyes. “Yes, but you’re a resilient and brilliant revolutionary.”

“Thanks.” I say, blushing. “I just knew that the majority of subliminal messages were hidden in the daily newspapers. I’ve got to act fast to get down the other major sources so I can confront the Middlings. I want to start the campaign to recruit them as soon as possible.”

Parker strolls into the room and takes a seat on the couch beside me. “I hope you at least give yourself the night to rest.”

“Who needs rest?” I say with a sly smile. “I just slept eight hours.”

He laughs and it brings a dimple to one of his cheeks. “Well, it’s a good thing I gave you a dose of the immune booster as well as a healing serum. You should be back to your old self in no time, except that shoulder of yours will probably always rattle a bit when you move it. I’m afraid you lost some bone.”

“To see the look on Ren’s face when he rescued me was worth the injuries,” I say, the memory washing over me. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but he almost looked concerned for my well-being.”

An easy grin spreads on Parker’s face. “I should have guessed it was Ren. We’ve been trying to piece together how you got here.”

“We? You mean Nona is here?”

“No,” he says and there’s a new expression on his face. One of mischief maybe.

“Yeah, well Ren found me and pulled me out of the burning building,” I say. “He wasn’t brave or cavalier. He was grumpy and reluctant about the whole thing but if it wasn’t for him I’d be dead.”

“I’m grateful he rescued you,” Parker says, “but he did leave you alone to bleed to death on my couch.”

“Oh, I wasn’t that bad off.”

Parker fails to suppress his grin. “No, not to the extent that blood loss was much of an issue. But I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Thanks again for taking care of me.”

He doesn’t say anything but instead gives me a thoughtful expression, a real fondness in his eyes which makes my gaze instantly dart away.

“The good news,” I say, searching for a topic to fill the quiet, “is that my injuries won’t affect me much while dream traveling. I might be able to take down most of the billboards tonight and also I have a meeting with your mother.”

“Oh, that’s right. Pass along my love to her, would you?”

“I will.”

The space between us grows quiet again. I look at Parker to catch a silly grin on his face. He’s too happy right now and it’s starting to cloud my mind with paranoia.

“So the wedding…” he finally says.

Absentmindedly I clench my eyes shut. The stupid wedding. I’d been able to forget about it mostly because my injuries were being so demanding.

“Yeah, about that…” I say, opening my eyes to find a strange look on his face.

“Don’t you want to know how it went?” he asks.

I clear my throat which has gone dry again. “Well, I don’t want a play-by-play if that’s what you meant. How was the cake?” I ask.

“I didn’t have any,” he says.

“That’s the best part of any wedding. Sounds like you missed out.” There’s unmistakable resentment in my tone.

“Oh, I don’t think so. The ceremony was extremely…” Parker pauses, searching for the right word. “It was extremely entertaining.”

“Yeah, harpists and flower girls and sappy vows, I’m sure it was wonderful,” I say dryly.

“Mmm…” Parker says, stroking his chin like he’s thinking. “No, wonderful isn’t the right word. Entertaining is the right one.”

I throw my head forward with defeat and immediately regret it. A sharp stabbing sensation rocks from my head all the way down my spine. “I don’t really want to hear about the wedding,” I say through gritted teeth.

“My apologies,” he says in a teasing tone which is so atypical to his usually kind voice. “I just thought since Dee is your sister that—”

I whip my head up. “I don’t want to hear about Dee’s wedding, okay!?” I yell.

To my astonishment Parker doesn’t startle at my rush of anger; instead, a slow grin spreads on his face. “I am completely aware that you and Dee don’t get along. I’m actually aware of quite a lot.”

“Then why are you irritating me with details I could care less about?”

“Because,” he says, drawing out the word and then holding one long finger in the air, “I thought you’d take pleasure in hearing how mortified Dee looked when Zack announced in front of everyone that he couldn’t marry her.”

“What?!” I say, spinning around to face Parker too fast. And although all I want is more information, my wounds capture my full attention. Own it. I double over from the pain that rips through my back from the movement. Quick breaths whistle through my aching lungs and yet my mind tries to give more than an ounce of attention to the bomb Parker so strategically just dropped.

Finally, when my pulse isn’t beating in my head like a drum, I give myself permission to take a few steadying breaths.

Parker’s hand is on the uninjured part of my back. “Easy now,” he says gently in my ear. “Don’t overdo it.”

Slowly I bring my heavy head up and stare into his brown eyes.

“I apologize for how I delivered that news,” he says, his tone genuine. “I didn’t realize you’d almost rip out a stitch.” He looks at me sideways and reveals a long smile. “I was just excited to tell you.”

“So…” I stutter out over the nerves in my chest. “He didn’t marry her?”

Parker nods his head proudly.

“And he rejected her in front of the entire town?”

Another nod.

My eyes widen as I picture the scene playing out in my head. “Oh gods,” I whisper with disbelief.

“He said that he didn’t love her and that it wouldn’t be fair,” Parker states. “He said that he’d never make her happy. It was done so very thoughtfully, very diplomatically.”

“That’s Zack,” I say, my mind overwhelmed with the implications.

“She then exclaimed that he was never going to be happy now because she was going to make his life hell,” Parker says.

I gulp. “And I don’t doubt she’ll try.”

“Zack didn’t look the least bit threatened as he walked off the stage and through the aisle,” Parker says with a pleased smile.

And then everything adds up and equals my currently reality. “Zack!” I say, rocking to a standing position and almost falling over at once. It’s Parker’s hand that steadies me at my side. “I have to see him,” I say, pleading to Parker.

“Of course you do,” he says, looking delighted. “But you’ll obviously need some help to make it to his house.”

“Parker, you’ll…?” I leave the question hanging in the air.

Parker regards me for several seconds. “Yes, of course I will. It would be an honor to deliver you to Zack safely.”

“Did you know that we…” Again I don’t finish my sentence, but I can tell from Parker’s expression that he fills in the words perfectly.

“Yes, I know,” he says. Parker’s eyes sparkle with a thoughtful sentiment. “I called Zack after you were stable, knowing you two are close friends and he’d be concerned. He asked if he could come over to be at your side. I didn’t think it was a good idea since he’s quite the talk of the town and everyone will have their eyes on him. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want him drawing attention to my home and then maybe to the fact that you are here.”

“I understand,” I say, everything humming in my being.

“So he asked me if I’d bring you to him when you were well enough and of course I hesitated.”

I blink my eyes at Parker with disbelief. “Em,” he continues, “you’re my patient and I must look out for your best interests. That’s when Zack made a certain confession to me and then I fully understood why he didn’t go forward with the marriage to your sister. I think the whole thing is actually quite beautiful. Inspiring even.”

And right then I realize that the affection I thought Parker had for me is completely platonic at this point. Maybe it was all misconstrued before, which is easy to do during a war. “So you are going to take me to him?”

He nods. “I’m your doctor and your friend. I can only imagine how much you would want to see him after everything you’ve both been through.”

“Thank you, Parker,” I say, throwing my arms around him and instantly regretting it. My arms and back and head reject the movement but Parker’s arms soothe me still.

“You’re welcome, Em,” he says, a smile in his voice.

Chapter Twenty-One

Over the last six months I have crossed the Valley undetected a hundred times. Each time has held its own dangers, but this is the first time I worry my own body will fail me. The alleyways are dark and it’s close to curfew, but I’m vigilant about ensuring no one sees the doctor helping me along through the streets.

My mind constricts with stress as I think about who I’m going to see in only a few minutes. And yet I know there’s no one else I need to see. I step a bit hastily around a corner and stumble, almost falling out of Parker’s grasp.

“Seriously, Em,” Parker warns. “I’ll turn around and take you back to my house if you don’t slow down.”

I nod, watching my feet move. “I’m just…” And what I want to say and what I’m capable of saying don’t match up.

“You’re excited to see Zack, I get it. Just don’t kill yourself on the way to him, okay?” I’m starting to learn this doctor who I’ve built a friendship with is more intuitive than I imagined.

It takes twice as long as usual to make it to Zack’s back gate. My head is already beating with an intense pressure. I reach into the pocket where Parker stashed pain meds for me.

“It’s too soon,” he says as I pop a pill into my mouth. “You just had one.”

“And most of your patients who you treat don’t hike after an injury,” I say, closing my eyes against the pain blanketing my thoughts.
“Em, I don’t have patients with ailments anymore. You really put my schooling to the test today,” he says.

I open my eyes to find his staring at me with hope. “I’m glad I could throw a challenge at you, I’ve noticed you getting bored,” I say.

“Yeah, thanks for the challenge,” he says, with an optimistic smile. “I look forward to the day when the people in this Valley come to me for fractured bones and stubborn colds. I look forward to treating real people who are allowed to have real ailments. Not ones created by their trusted leader.”

“I will do everything I can to make that a part of your reality, Parker,” I say, pinching his cheek fondly.

“I know,” he says, and pulls me up the stairs of the portico.

The door opens before we arrive. Zack stands looking at me with the most heartbreaking torture. He’s wearing his tuxedo shirt and pants, no tie. I pull my arm from around Parker’s shoulders. The doctor stands up tall, looking relieved not to have to support my weight any longer.

“As promised,” Parker says to Zack, waving his hand at me in a presenting manner.

I make to smile, but sway instead, catching myself on the railing.

“Whoa now,” Parker says, grabbing my hand and directing it forward until he places it in Zack’s. And just like that he relinquishes me over. I turn and look at Parker, who’s already rushed down the stairs. I know he’s hurrying home before curfew.

“Thank you,” I whisper down to him.

“For you, anytime,” Parker says, saluting as he sprints through the lawn.

And then I do what I’m avoiding. Slowly, like this is a life-defining moment, I turn and face Zack. His hand still holds mine. As soon as our eyes meet, I recognize that too much emotion lies between us now. It will take a lifetime to sort through all the thoughts and feelings springing back and forth in the gazes we’re giving each other. And a part of me just needed to see Zack, to know he wasn’t chained to my evil sister forever. And now that I do, I deflate, realizing he’s still the same guy who rejected me so many hours earlier.

Maybe sensing my hesitation, Zack allows my hand to slip from his as I enter the house. I pin my lower back up against the countertop for support. I want to look back at Zack, to have a meaningful conversation, but my thoughts are swimming from the meds and the pain and the heartbreak. Zack has backed off a safe distance, but I feel his eyes on me in the dark kitchen.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice sounding like the best thing I’ve heard all day and instantly I find myself smiling at his simple question.

“Like I fell off my horse and got trampled by her,” I say, my eyes on the travertine floor.

“Then why are you smiling?” he asks.

“Because you didn’t marry her.” I bring my gaze up to his to find his bright eyes that I associate with home.

“Em,” he says, his voice low. “I was ready to do it. I really thought it was what was best for the war. I really thought I was finally going to provide something toward the initiative. You’d sacrificed your own life, I wanted to give that much. But when it came down to it, my selfishness won out.” His hands comb through his hair, one after the other until it breaks free of the gel. Then he flips his head up and looks at me with loose blond locks. “I will do anything for this war. Anything,” he says with absolute conviction. “I’ll do anything, but I won’t lose you.”

Every word I know is vaulted away inside me and I’ve lost the key. I stand frozen, looking at him.

“Remember when you asked me about what Rogue said to me before he died?” Zack continues after a long silence.

I nod, and it takes a toll on my reserves.

Zack must spy this because he says, “Do you want to lie down?”

I shake my head. “Please continue,” I say.

“Rogue told me two things that night.” Zack blows out a long breath through his mouth. Resigns a little of his stress. “He told me that I don’t take chances that count.” He pauses. Hesitates. “And he also said that he knew I’d been in love with you all my life,” he says in a rushed sentence, like all the words are only one.

“What?” I stammer, thinking how weird it is that Rogue said such a strange thing on his deathbed.

“I know, it’s weird,” Zack says, having read my thoughts. “He told me he saw a future where you and I had a potential to really be together, but he said I’d blow it if I didn’t take a chance.”

“Why would he say such a thing?”

“Because he’s Rogue,” Zack says.

I want to crumble to the ground and cry, thinking of the man I love who had this strange conversation with the other man I love. And yet my feet remain under me. “Rogue told you to take a chance if you wanted to be with me? On his deathbed? That’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard of,” I say.

Zack nods. “He knew I loved you. We both did. How could we not?”

A relentless thumping takes residence in my chest. I open my mouth to say something and then realize I have nothing to say. No response to this confession.

“I know you loved Rogue,” Zack continues. “I’m not him. I can’t love you like he did, but I can love you in my own way, and I want to.”

“Is this you listening to Rogue’s advice? Are you trying to take a chance?” I ask, and it almost sounds like I’m poking fun at him.

“Yes.” He nods. “And I want to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” Why did this all of the sudden sound impersonal, like this is one of Zack’s business meetings?

His blue eyes light up though, and it’s a look I know he rarely has at work. “Yes. This offer is always good and will never expire.”

“I’m listening,” I say, my mind flip-flopping between being bewildered and elated. “What’s your offer?”

Zack clears his throat. Stares at me with uncertain eyes. “Me,” he says plainly.

I gulp in surprise. “What?”

“I’m not sure if after Rogue you’re ready or if you’ll ever be ready. And I fear that after what I put you through you might not want me that way anymore. But, Em, if you ever want to share a life with me, as more than just friends, then my answer will always be yes. If you ever want me, then I’m forever yours.”

“Why does this sound like a proposal?” I ask, my mind cramping.

“It’s not a proposal, it’s a promise.”

“This is a lot to process,” I say, pressing my hand to my head and meeting my bandages, which quickly makes me squeamish. “I’m grateful you didn’t marry Dee, but I don’t think that means we automatically belong together. We’ve been through a lot today. What you’re offering is beautiful and wonderful, but—”

“And it always stands,” he says, cutting me off. “It doesn’t have to be tonight. I’m here, if you ever want me, Em,” Zack says, looking straight at me. “The offer stands for the rest of my life, but I get that you’re still mad at me…as you should be.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m in love with you, but I’m afraid we’re going to mess this up. That’s what haunts me,” I say. “I almost lost you today. For good. I don’t want to do anything to ruin our friendship. I know after everything I’ve lost that I can’t risk losing you again.”

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t ruin us. I’d go to any end to protect you. I was going to marry your sister to protect you.”

“Don’t remind me,” I say, unable to hide the shiver that oozes out of me at the thought that Dee’s hands have been on Zack.

We both fall silent and regard each other with heartbroken stares. Zack takes turns balancing his weight between his feet. He suddenly looks so uncertain of himself. And I’m not sure what we need to say at this point. I’m unsure of everything between us right now. But I’m grateful that something can exist between us. I’m grateful my worst fear didn’t come to fruition today.

“Look, I’m going to go take a shower,” I say, defeat resonating in my tone. “I smell like I was trapped in a burning building.”

And an almost smile flicks to his mouth. It’s too small. Too strained. I’ve never felt tension like this between Zack and me. I want to tell him to act normal but what does that mean? Act like you did before when you pretended not to be in love with me? Zack and I need to find a new normal but I have no idea how to do that with him.

Something suddenly occurs to me. “About the wedding,” I say.

His eyes startle with worry. “Yes?”

“Zack, will you be all right after what you’ve done? What will my father do to you?”

“Probably nothing.” He combs his hands through his loose hair. “Chief Fuller has already arranged a meeting with me for tomorrow though.”

“On a Sunday?” That can’t be good.

He nods. “I’ll probably have to deal with some backlash, but I’ll accept the repercussions of my actions. I might be demoted, but I also have a case to make for keeping my current position. Either way, I’ll be able to secure the evidence that Smith wants.”

I drag in a long breath and instantly regret it. The smell of the smoke clinging to my hair makes me nauseous. “I better go shower,” I say.

He consents with a nod. “There’s fresh linens in your room.”

“Thanks,” I say and tuck my head down low as I exit.

When I leave the kitchen I find the living room clean and orderly. All of the books I tore off the shelves and the lamps I broke have been cleaned up and repaired. It was that act that almost indirectly killed me. I don’t realize that I’m frozen, staring at the orderly bookcase, until Zack arrives in front of me, peering at me sideways like he’s afraid I’ve lost it. “Em?” he says. “What is it? Are you all right?”

I bring my eyes up to his. I want to tell him that I’m sorry I leeched him without his permission. That I’m sorry I stole so much of his energy. I want to tell Zack that my injuries are a punishment for abusing my power. Instead I say, “I’m sorry if I damaged any of your books. I know how much you treasure them.”

“The books are fine,” he says. “What I worry about is you. Em, you pulled over five hundred books off these shelves at once.” He motions to the bookshelves that line the living room walls. “I could practice my entire life and I wouldn’t be able to do that using my gift.”

“Why would that make you worried about me?”

“You’re so powerful and also reactionary, I’m afraid you’re going to get yourself…” His words trail away as his eyes trail to the bandage on my head. “…even more hurt.”

The blast of electricity I shot out of my hand replays in my mind. If I’m honest, my power scares me too. I have every gift at my disposal. But in taking those gifts I risk burning myself alive. And the way to save myself creates destruction. “I think,” I begin slowly, “I’m more afraid that I’m going to kill others. I am Morta after all.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I’ve always been able to think best in the shower. The steam and hot water somehow boil the right thoughts to the surface. I’m careful to keep the water off my back and head, while washing the smoke off me.

It’s strange to think Zack has secretly loved me. Maybe there were times I sensed his affection but I always thought he was having a fleeting emotion, like when he almost kissed me the other night. And honestly I’ve punished myself for ever hoping he’d think of me as more than a friend. I’ve been the rebel. The tomboy. The one he always rolled his eyes at for making uncouth remarks. And yet I’ve loved Zack for so long. It’s why I constantly banged on his door and dragged him to Rogue’s, using him for why we should hang out. I knew he couldn’t refuse an invite from the President’s son.

And Rogue. Now thinking about him feels strange. He knew Zack’s feelings. Saw a future with us together. Rogue pushed Zack to act on his true feelings when he was dying. If possible I love Rogue more for this because he selflessly wanted what was best for us. How had Rogue allowed the idea of a future where Zack and I were together not infuriate him with jealousy? Was it because he knew he was going to die? And then the thought has occurred to me that Rogue was trying to give me permission to move on by orchestrating this all, by telling Zack to take a chance. To be honest, I need that permission from Rogue because without it I’ve punished myself for considering the idea of moving on.

All I know for certain in this moment is how I feel about Zack. I love him. For so long I’ve felt a pure affection for him, one that never ebbed or flowed. It isn’t like it was with Rogue, where I never considered loving him and then found myself pulled in by his charisma. The way I feel about Zack has always been steady and fueled by my own draw to him, not his attempts to win my attention.

I dress in my yoga pants and cashmere sweater. And although I slept most of the day, my body begs to be laid out in my bed without an agenda for my mind. But that’s not happening since I already have dream travel plans for later. Right now, though, I have some unfinished business to attend to.

The hallway between Zack’s room and mine is dark. A sliver of light from the crack in his door sprays through the hall. Through it I spy him moving around in his room. The part of me that rebels against all the etiquette force-fed to me my entire life wants to charge into his room. I want to yell at him, to lay down a hundred truths. But as much as I don’t want to be, I’m a product of my upbringing.

I tiptoe to his room and watch him through the small crack along the door. Zack unfastens his silver watch and lays it down in the box on the top of his dresser. Next his cufflinks come off. And it’s then that I push open the door, the hinges making note of the movement with a small squeak. Zack freezes. Stares at his shiny silver and diamond encrusted cufflinks winking back at him from the box. And then the corner of his mouth raises slightly.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now, Em,” he says, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, still not looking at me.

“You’d think so, huh?” I say.

Zack turns and faces me, his eyes falling on my feet before he brings them up to my face. The look he gives me pierces my core. Softens my knees. Caves in a part of my being. It’s then that I realize he’s taken off the mask and right now he’s looking at me with the adoration he’s always felt for me. And never do I want him to look away. Ever.

“Do you feel better?” he asks, strolling to his closet. There he slips off his shoes. I wait for him to return before I pretend to smile.

“I don’t smell like a bonfire, but I’m pretty sure I got my stitches wet,” I say, injecting lightness in my voice. “I’m sure Parker won’t be pleased.” I sweep my damp hair off my shoulder; it’s slowly starting to twist into lose curls as it dries.

Zack gives me an intensely inquisitive look.

“Wish I knew what you were thinking,” I say, stepping into the room.

“I bet you do,” he says, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his tuxedo pants. He flings it on the chair in the corner. Every part of him exudes with fatigue, and still he’s standing here giving me most of his attention. We’ve both put each other through enough today. Maybe it’s time we gave each other a break.

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” I say and turn, but before I make it to the door it slams shuts, locking me in the room with Zack. He rarely uses his gift of telekinesis. I halt and spin around to face him, a bemused expression on my face. He’s actually smirking at me with a look of pride.

“Do you still want to know what I’m thinking?” he says, taking two steps in my direction.

I nod mostly with my eyes, my head barely moving.

“When you just walked into my room, I was struck by how no matter the circumstances, you light me up. I’m not sure why this revelation continues to surprise me, you’ve always been the bright spot in my life.”

“I don’t understand why you never told me this before,” I say.

“I always planned to, when we were older. But then Rogue came back and…” His voice is careful, sensitive. “Well, and you never told me either.”

I cross my arms in front of me, a mock look of offense on my face. “I most certainly did.” My mind flashes on the embarrassing moment in Zach’s house when I told him I’d always had a crush on him. The memory brings the mortification back to my being. Makes me want to shiver with embarrassment. “If you’ll remember you got mad and stormed off. You told me I was going to ruin our friendship.”

“You were with Rogue. I was never going to do anything to mess you two up. I was trying to save my own sanity.”

“Oh,” I say, and it suddenly dawns on me how torturous it must have been for Zack to watch Rogue and me together. I gulp down a sharp piece of guilt.

“And afterwards,” Zack says, “you told me you were joking about your feelings and not in a million years would you like me.”

“I was trying to save my ego,” I say.

“Yeah, I figured. A million years is a long time,” Zack says.

“I thought you were repulsed by the idea that I ever harbored feelings for you.”

“Em, you’ve got it all wrong. Not repulsed.” He shakes his head, angered by the word. “I was surprised and elated and frustrated. That’s how I felt. I would have done anything to know you had feelings for me, but I wouldn’t betray Rogue. Anything else though. Even back then, I would have given up everything I own and everything I’ve worked for to be with you.”

And coming from Zack that’s like saying I’m worth the very breath in his being.

“This is all so strange and strangely beautiful and sad.”

“Why is it sad?” he asks, fear in his voice.

“It’s sad how much we’ve both loved each other secretly and never knew it. It’s sad how stubborn we were with our feelings. And it’s super sad that we wasted so much time hiding our adoration for each other when we could have been together. Now there’s a war and danger and uncertainty.” I pause and a small pained smile surfaces on my face. “But everything also happens for a reason,” I say, thinking of Rogue and being grateful that I had my time with him. He inspired me with his capacity for love.

“You always get that look on your face when you’re thinking about Rogue,” Zack says in a neutral voice.

“You know me so well,” I say. “I was just thinking of how he wanted the best for us. He wanted us to be together after he died. That’s beautiful.”

“It surprised me at first, but then I remembered what kind of person Rogue was,” Zack says.

A piercing, tender ache strikes my throat and I don’t fight the small tear that peeks out of my eye. I slip it away with my fingertips. “About your offer.”

“Yes?” Zack says too fast. Anticipation heavy in the one word.

“Well, you and I have been through a lot recently and after losing Tutu…” It’s so hard to push these words out of my mouth.

“It’s okay, Em. I completely understand.”

“No you don’t because I’m not finished,” I say, annoyance in my tone.

Zack holds up his hands in surrender, an apology written on his face.

“Right now everything is so dangerous,” I begin. “Every day I risk not making it back to you. If my father or Vider caught me…well, I don’t think they’d allow me to live.”

He flinches at my words.

“And we don’t know what dangers await tomorrow or the next. It’s a time of unknowns,” I say.

He’s nodding, his face growing with disappointment.

“But there’s one thing I know without a doubt.”

He arches his eyebrow at me. “Yes?”

“I don’t want to die having any regrets.” I take a step closer to him.

“What does that mean?”

“Zack,” I say, rolling my eyes at how dense he’s being. “It means I don’t want to wait to have what you’re offering me. I don’t want to miss our opportunity to be together.”

Zack, who is always subtle with his reactions, allows a satisfied grin to spread across his face. He closes the distance between us with an urgency I’ve never witnessed in him. It almost startles me. But then his warm hands find mine and I’m instantly comforted. He pulls our hands up and holds them between us. And over our intertwined hands our eyes connect. Just by the single look he’s giving me right now a hundred desires are unleashed inside me. It’s the first time Zack has ever made me feel this unyielding passion, but I know by looking at him he’s capable of this and much more.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all my life,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “I’ve been dying to.”

I tug at his hands and something primal and fierce sparks in his eyes. Zack leans down, tucks his head to the side, and finds my mouth with his. His lips are cool and firm and entice me in a way I never imagined. Our hands disengage as I slide mine around his neck as his fingers snake around my waist. He tugs me in, pinning me to him. Our lips continue to explore each other’s and then I open my mouth to his, drinking in his desire for me. Kissing Zack isn’t strange like I thought it would be. It’s utterly the most perfect thing we’ve ever done together. It’s the perfect expression of how much affection we feel for each other, described in an intimate closeness.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“How’s that?” Zack asks.

I flex the muscles of my back. “It’s great,” I say, attempting to look at Zack over my shoulder. Multiple muscle groups won’t allow it. I lower my shirt as he disposes of the packaging from the fresh bandages he just dressed my wounds with. “You make a fine nurse,” I say, turning to face him.

“Thank you. I was trying to be quick and gentle.”

I step closer to him. “I think you misunderstood me,” I say, brandishing an unabashed grin. “I said you make a fine nurse.”

A blush colors his cheeks. “Why thank you.”

“Are you ready for your meeting?” I ask, unable to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Everything will be fine,” Zack says with pure confidence.

“You underestimate how vengeful my father can be.”

“No, I don’t,” he says and picks up his black suit jacket and slips it over his pressed shirt. “I work for him and he’s vengeful but also intent on using lemmings to secure the foundation of his government and Chief Fuller thinks I’m the biggest lemming he’s ever employed.”

I offer him a sideways skeptical glare. “Fine,” I say and step in close to him. A pleased smile unravels on his face when I reach out and straighten his blue paisley tie. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” I say a few inches from his face.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he says, humor in his eyes.

I slide my hands around Zack’s neck and he pins both his hands on my hips, pulling me in closer to him. I pause an inch from his lips, flick my eyes up to see the content look in his, and then I kiss him. His lips cover mine with a fervent need and I reciprocate with my own desire which is on par with his.

“Well it’s about damn time,” Nona says from the entryway. I pull my lips a few inches from Zack but stay staring at his smile.

“Hi, Nona,” Zack says, eyes on me. I lean in and press one more kiss upon his mouth before pulling away and turning to face my little sister.

“Do tell me, what does that mean, it’s about time?” I ask, pinning my hands on my hips.

Nona’s freckled face is lit up with a clever smile. “Oh, I believe that was pretty clear.” She strolls by us and with a bit more force than necessary she flops back onto the sofa. Then she flicks her eyes at Zack and gives him an annoyed look. “You finally told her? Good job, lover boy.”

“Yeah, it only took me seventeen years,” he says, enfolding me in his arms and pulling me back to his chest. “Em’s worth the wait.”

I smile up at him. “I guess I’m as guilty of hiding my feelings.”

“Yeah, I was starting to worry you two would never figure it out,” Nona says with a giggle.

“Oh, so now you’re going to pretend you knew all along?” I say, giddy excitement in my chest.

“Tutu and I both did,” Nona says, all confidence. “She told me one of her worst fears was your stubborn pride would keep you two apart. She was adamant about me intervening if you two kept up the charade of just wanting to be friends.” She pins an angry glare at Zack. “Imagine my fear when I thought you were going to marry that demon sister of ours.”

I turn and face Zack. Grab his hands in mine. “Well, who would have thought so many people were conspiring to get us together one day.”

He smiles down at me and my stomach clenches. To openly look at Zack and allow my unending love for him to pour out of me is the best gift the gods ever gave me.

“I need to go, Em,” he says.

“I know.” But I’m unwilling to pull my hands away from his, although I realize I must. “I love you,” I say, stepping up on my tiptoes and planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers into my hair.

He steps back, allowing our hands to slowly slip from each other’s. “I’ll be back soon.”

I nod and don’t turn to face Nona until he’s gone. She’s wearing a Cheshire cat grin and as contagious as it is my face stays neutral.

“You’re worried about him,” she says, no question in her tone.

“Aren’t you?” I say, my voice suddenly frantic. All the fear I was hiding spills out in front of Nona. “He’s pissed off the most diabolical person in this Valley. Father may have an administration to protect and run but Dee is governed by her ego and selfish desires. What if she goes to this meeting and tries to hurt him?”

The look on Nona’s face makes me certain that my fears aren’t misplaced, but she quickly covers it with a fake smile. “Well, we can follow him if you want. Watch for signs of danger.”

I shake my head. “No, I already threw that out, which promptly earned a mortified look from Zack. He doesn’t want me fighting his battles or running around protecting him.”

“I can understand that. I’d feel the same way if my significant other was a badass like you,” she says with a thoughtful shrug. “So are those battle wounds you received for burning down Austin Valley News?” she says, indicating the bandage on my head.

“Yeah, I have a pretty deep gash in my back too. You want to see it?” I tease.

She grimaces with disgust. Shakes her head. “I should have known you were responsible for the arson at the newspaper.”

“That forty-year-old paper needed to go,” I say.

“And all with a flick of your wrist, right?”

The scene replays in my head. The destruction I caused all with my intentions. A chill shakes my core. “Yeah, it didn’t take much on my part.”

“Well, and I see that you’ve disposed of a ton of the billboards and posters displaying subliminal messages around town.”

“All in a night’s work,” I say, thinking of the night I spent dream traveling while Zack was forced to fall into dreams while wearing the sleep cuff. “What has Father said about it all?”

Nona’s eyes drop and with them my stomach.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s probably nothing but he’s not worried, not like he should be if he’s expecting your attack. He actually chuckled when he found out the newspaper burned down. Then he said ‘if that’s the best she can do then soon she’ll be sorry she didn’t do more.’”

“What?” I say, my overworked nerves making my skin itch. “So he knows it’s me?”

“Of course he does. And he knows you saw Tutu right under his nose before she died.”

“How?” I ask.

“She put it in her will. She warned Father to save his soul and join your side before it was too late.”

Rapid blinks do little to help me assimilate this new knowledge. “What? And what did he do?”

“He laughed, of course, and called her a crazy old woman.”

“That sounds about right,” I say.

“But he wasn’t laughing at the end of the last will and testament meeting,” Nona says, a gloating hint to her voice. “Tutu gave all her money and possessions to you.”

“NO! But I’m an outlaw!” I say.

“It’s still money and you’re still entitled to it…well, if he doesn’t capture you and kill you.”

“Thanks for putting that sensitively,” I say dryly.

“Anytime,” she says with a wink.

“What about you? Why didn’t Tutu leave you anything?” I ask.

“I don’t think she wanted to blow my cover. Father believes I’m a Defect trying to pay penance to the gods for my shortcomings,” Nona says.

“Right. Well, why would he care that she left everything to me?” I say.

“Only because she’s the wealthiest Reverian in this town. Hell, she was probably the wealthiest person in Oregon,” she says. “And now that makes you that person. Money is power, you do realize that, right?”

I laugh at my little sister’s attempt to educate me on the ways of the world. “Money doesn’t matter nearly enough in a society where things are assigned,” I say.

“This town still has a currency. And stakes are bought in every society using money. I think Father was betting on getting a hold of that money one day,” Nona continues. “He’s not happy unless he has everything.”

“Okay, so he knows I’m in the Valley creating problems. But they don’t know about the water supply being tampered with, right?”

“Right.”

Then my mind flips to the eight Defects who chose to be converted. “What happened at the dream travel lecture the other night?”

She tenses. “That’s actually why I’m here. There’s been a problem and with the wedding and all I haven’t had a chance to relay it.”

“What?” I say.

“Well, maybe it was naive for us to think that a bunch of Defect kids who have had their gifts suppressed would stay quiet after it was pretended that they had been converted.”

My mind darts to different horrid potential. “What happened?”

“It was only one kid,” Nona says, straightening herself on the couch. “But he was caught at the Middling apartment using his gift. It was reported to Vider and the kid was taken away.”

“What happened to him? To the kid?” I say.

Her cold eyes tell me what I don’t want to know. He hasn’t returned. He’s missing.

“What do I need to do? Do I need to find him?” I say.

“Calm down, Em. First of all, the boy got himself into this mess. You’re not risking your butt to rescue him, got it?”

I nod at Nona. Sometimes I wonder if somehow our roles got mixed up and she’s the older sibling in some strange alternate dimension.

“And secondly,” she continues, “I think it’s fine. I think Vider believes it was just a mix-up. But he’s not taking chances with it happening again.” She gives me a cautious stare. “The kid’s family was taken away too.”

“Oh no. Gods no,” I say, throwing my head back.

“Yeah, and during the lecture he said that those who were found disobeying would endanger themselves and their families’ lives. And now he’s proven that he’s not kidding around.”

“I’m going to have a terrible time convincing kids not to undergo conversion,” I say, feeling heavier.

Nona stares at me with her too wise eyes and nods. “Things have just gotten a lot more complicated, for sure.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I watch my shadow stalking beside me as I pace the entryway. I’ve been marching back and forth for over an hour. Waiting is not something I’m good at. And now the throbbing in my back is making the experience even more unbearable. Nona wasn’t able to stay with me and keep me distracted since she said our mother required her to be home for the day. Her plans for Nona were unclear. Our mother probably wanted her to attend one of her tea parties so Nona can be the topic of all the old women’s condescending conversations. They love to ridicule Defects, especially in front of their faces. These are not people to speak behind someone’s back. At least they have that to bolster their honor.

The door isn’t even open an inch before I wrench it back all the way. My eyes scan Zack standing in the doorway. He’s here standing before me—the first relief. He looks unharmed from fire—the second relief. And yet—on his face is a look of tragic disbelief. I seize his arm and pull him into the house, my shoulder making note of the effort the task takes.

“What is it? What happened? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he says and then shakes his head. “No I’m not. I mean I’m not hurt or anything.”

He’s stumbling over his words. Something I’ve never heard him do. In a daze he walks to the couch and sits and promptly throws his head in his hands. Three times he draws in heavy breaths. Breaths that I measure in long, irritating seconds.

“Well, please feel no rush to tell me what happened,” I say, annoyance laden in my tone. “It’s not like I’ve been pacing and worrying for over an hour, fearing they carted you away and I’d never see you again.”

He drags his head up and stares at me with sobering red-rimmed eyes. And yet he says nothing.

After a long few seconds of silence I say, “Right. Not worried at all now that I see the devastation written on your face. Think I’ll just pop into the kitchen to bake a cake,” I say, planting my hands on my hips and scowling at him.

“He fired me, Em,” Zack says in a dead voice. “Your father didn’t demote me. He fired me.”

I blink in surprise. “What? That’s why you’re so upset? Because he took away your title and political sway?”

“It’s a huge deal,” he says, his words sharp, angry.

I shake my head at him. “He didn’t order you to be converted into a Middling or banish you from the Valley or threaten to have Dee kill you, is that correct?” I ask, my tone matching his.

Zack just stares at me.

“Because that’s what my father is capable of. That’s what he’s done to me, so it sounds like you got off easy.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, one of Zack’s typical “I don’t like this conversation” gestures. When he looks back at me he’s not angry, he looks more crestfallen than ever before. More so than when his grandfather died or when he found out the injections I’d been given for three years were poison synthesized from infant spinal fluid. “You don’t get it, Em. I’m useless to the rebellion now. I can’t help you gain evidence to give to Smith. I don’t have access to the President’s plans. I won’t be able to warn you about his strategy to combat your attacks. I’m useless.”

He’s right, I didn’t get it before. Not completely. The impact of this turn of events knocks me straight in the sternum. I now understand his depression and it makes me want to cry for him. To steal his pain and loss away. Zack doesn’t define himself by who he is, it’s what he does. And I want to comfort him. To tell him it’s fine. That we’ll find another way, but my mind doesn’t believe that. Without Zack in his position inside my father’s office we’ve lost a serious advantage.

Zack is watching me, watching the features of my face shift as his words sink in. Then he opens his mouth and lets out a heavy sigh. “And your father knew that the best and most detrimental way to punish me was to take away my position. But he didn’t stop there. He didn’t stop until reassigning me to a rundown house in the Middling neighborhood and assigning me a menial role within their population.”

“What? He can’t do that!” I say, outraged. “You’re a Dream Traveler. We’ve never been forced into a Middling’s job. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it blurs the line Vider so clearly established between the two races.”

“It was the punishment that Dee demanded for me and your father, wanting to mend his daughter’s broken heart, said he’d carry it out for her,” Zack says, venom in his voice. “Chief Fuller explained that the people of Austin Valley would see this as an exception and also a lesson that we treat one another with respect and do not enter into engagements only to humiliate the other person publicly.”

“That rotten little witch,” I say, starting to pace in an effort to dispel the rush of fury.

“Em,” Zack says, and his tone makes me pause. With a sense of foreboding and dread I turn and face him. “Your father didn’t stop there.” He pauses. His eyes hesitate. “He has decided that my father should suffer my exact same punishment. He explained that he really didn’t think it was wise that my father work in Government Center when there was bad blood between our families now.”

I swear my heart falls inside my chest, meeting my stomach.

“And Chief Fuller, to demonstrate his cruelty, has given me the task of informing my father that his twenty-year role as treasurer for Austin Valley has come to an end,” Zack says in a voice that breaks me in two. “The job has been bestowed upon me to tell my parents they must move out of their home and into a dilapidated apartment on the far side of town.”

“No,” I gasp, knowing that this guilt will torture Zack forever. “But your father is innocent. He’s the most ignorant to Vider’s treachery and the most loyal citizen. What is my father thinking?”

“He’s thinking that he doesn’t care. That he wants to watch us suffer. That by humiliating my family Dee will somehow feel redeemed.”

“I’m sorry, Zack,” I say, taking a seat at the far end of the couch, not wanting to encroach on his space although being close to him is all I truly want. “If you regret your decision then I understand. When I asked you not to marry Dee I didn’t know it would have these kinds of ramifications. But now that it impacts your family I don’t blame you for being upset. For doubting your decision. Or for even despising me for it.”

He turns and faces me. “Em, I don’t doubt my decision. Not one single bit. And how could you even consider that I’d despise you?”

“Because you’re so distant, like I’m the plague that’s brought devastation upon you and your family.”

He shakes his head at me, like I’ve failed to understand a simple idea. “I despise the fact that I have nothing to offer you or the rebellion anymore. I’m useless.”

“Zack, you’re more valuable than ever before. You know so much and don’t have to waste your time in meetings. You’re free to lead this rebellion.”

“What? Me lead this rebellion?”

“Well, beside me,” I say.

“Beside you?” he says, trying to wrap his mind around a new idea.

“Yes, beside me, although I think you’re the clear leader here,” I say. “You could take over half of the projects and help me out with the largest one of recruiting Middlings.”

“You are overdoing it and I have worried that you were going to make yourself sick,” Zack says.

“So you see how much I need you helping me.”

He nods, seeming to think about it.

“But Zack, you’ll have to become an outlaw to do it.”

He gives me a sideways smile that lights up my heart. “You have no idea how envious I’ve been of you, watching you on your secret missions.”

“So you’ll do it? You’ll join me?”

He nods from his place on what feels like the opposite side of the world. Also known as the other side of the couch. Too far away.

“But I realize your father and mother will have a sad fate to face. I’m sorry. I regret that this has happened to them.”

“It’s fine, Em. Nothing is more important than freeing the Reverians. So my parents have to suffer a little. It won’t be forever. I’m not regretful about it.” He pushes his hand through his hair, stress oozing off him.

“Well, Zack, I’m not buying that for a second. You’re obviously still stressed.”

“Yes,” he says, staring at the ground. “Now I have more to think about. More things to consider. It’s just a lot to process.”

“I think you should let me help you. That’s part of sharing a leadership role together.”

“And how do you do that? Help me?”

“Well, for starters you get your ass over here,” I say, pointing to the spot next to me.

A nervous look grazes his face. Carefully, Zack slides over on the couch until he’s only a foot away. It’s apparent that this is still new for the two of us. We’re unsure how to act around each other. How to touch one another.

Zack is searching me with his eyes from his place beside me. “Are you sure it’s wise that I join you in this role? You’ve done so well on your own. And you—”

I reach out and press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “You need to be beside me in this war. With you beside me everything will shift.”

“How so?” he says.

“I think what I need to end this war, which has hardly begun, is you.” And it’s true. I already feel a surge of hope knowing Zack will be by my side now. I also have a sense of clarity, like I know the steps more clearly for ending this. And it was triggered because Dee decided to take his position away. Just as Tutu foretold, Dee decided how long this would go on. Now it’s my turn to figure out how to end it.

“Me?” Zack asks, looking down at me with skepticism. “Why do you think you need me to end this war?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?” I say.

He doesn’t answer, but does offer me a heated glare which makes my insides swelter.

“Well, if you must know,” I say, “you’re an incredible leader and you also strengthen me.”

He shakes his head, like he thinks I’m lying to him. Averts his eyes.

“What, do you not believe me?” I ask.

“No, it’s just that’s how I feel about you. You’re the empire I’d protect. You’re my reason for serving. I want you above all else. You’re my freedom,” he says.

And too much I recognize the words I once spoke to Rogue. You’re my freedom. I slide over, pulling Zack’s arm around me and cuddling into his chest. We belong to each other. All of us. And now I know, as I suspected, that disentangling Zack from Rogue from me is an impossibility. We are one. We are each other’s freedom. Even though Rogue is dead, he’s still a part of us. An inspiration. I slide my chin up Zack’s chest until I find his face. It’s ultra-weird to feel him this way and also more right than anything I’ve ever felt.

“And I’ll protect you no matter, no matter what it takes,” he says when my eyes meet his. He kisses me so tenderly, so slowly, I know he’s enjoying the surreal feel of actually experiencing each other.

I peel back and regard his face from only a few inches away. And then my burning question storms out of my mouth. “Doesn’t it feel weird to be this close to each other? Isn’t the experience odd?”

He gives me a measured glare. “Weird or odd aren’t the words I’d use.”

“Oh, well would you use the words ‘lame’ and ‘disappointing’ then?” I ask, pouting my lips at him. I’m gratified when a tamed smile flicks to his mouth. After all, my mission is to loosen him up after the meeting with my father.

“Who’s the one fishing for compliments now?” Zack asks.

I bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh, so not lame and disappointing then?”

“Definitely not.”

I sit back a few inches, careful to lean my side into the couch and not my still-healing back. “I think it feels weird to kiss you after all these years of platonic friendship.”

“You do?”

I nod. “But it also makes me feel a ton of other emotions.”

“Like?” Zack says.

“You’ll remember a few seconds ago when you didn’t elaborate, so…” I say.

“Em, you do love to play games, don’t you?”

I lean forward, closer to Zack. He’s slid his arm around my waist, wrenching me into him. When our noses are almost touching I say, “I know better than to think you’ll play my games with me. I’ve reverted to teasing you.”

Just as he leans into me I move my face to the side an inch, narrowly missing his mouth.

“You’re exceptionally good at it,” he says with a playful growl.

“Why thank you,” I say, leaning away from him a few inches, but relishing his hands on me.

Zack blows out a long breath. “Well, I hope you don’t mind taking a break from teasing me, because we do have other business to attend to,” he says.

“Only a small break,” I say, walking my fingers up his tie and stopping in the middle of his chest.

He peers down at my hand and then shakes his head with a pleased smile. “Em, we’re going to have to move out of here in two days’ time,” he says, the stress from before returning to his voice.

“Don’t worry,” I say, keeping my voice light. “I’ve got a farm, but also more money than any Reverian, so I’ll keep us comfortable.”

“Oh, really?” he says with an infectious smile. “Do tell me about this turn of financial status that’s befallen you.”

“Tutu apparently made me a millionaire overnight,” I say, lacing my fingers into the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. “But I have all that I want right here.”

Zack smiles against my mouth.

Chapter Twenty-Five

To celebrate Zack’s new life as a Rebel I threw his sleep cuff in the trash and accompanied him on a dozen different dream travel adventures last night. Vider will figure it out, but by that time we’ll be hidden, orchestrating the rebellion. Zack’s favorite part was probably watching America’s founding fathers sign the Declaration of Independence or when the Berlin wall was torn down. He knew about America gaining its independence, but I had to explain the events that led up to the Berlin wall being destroyed. He watched with mesmerized eyes, the enormity of our world and history suddenly dawning on him. My favorite part was strolling the streets of Old Montreal. Zack’s jaw actually dropped when we entered the gates to Chinatown.

“If you think the Canadians’ take on China is cool, wait until I take you to Hong Kong,” I said.

He didn’t laugh, since he doesn’t know where Hong Kong is. I didn’t either until I had access to real books.

Now the tasks ahead of us, and the certain obstacles we’ll encounter, are staring us in the face and last night’s dream travel feels too far away. So badly do I want to close my eyes and continue to explore the world by Zack’s side.

“After this is all over, we’ll travel nonstop,” Zack says, as if sensing my thoughts.

“I know,” I say, and then force myself to think about the tasks that lie ahead of us today. “Even after you tell your father what’s really going on do you think he’ll do what he’s been ordered? Will he take the job he’s assigned and live in rundown, inadequate housing?” I ask Zack as the morning sunlight finds ways to slip in through the closed blinds.

“I fear he will,” he says. “My parents don’t like conflict. They will fear Chief Fuller’s threats. But it’s fine. This won’t last forever.”

And even as he’s says it my brain fights the statement with doubt. We aren’t in a position of power anymore. We’ve lost our greatest advantage. Without evidence, Smith can’t take Vider down and that means I have to, but I don’t know if I can. That would involve doing things I’m not sure I want to do. That would involve becoming a monster. It will no doubt involve violence.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight,” I say and stand up on my tippy toes and plant a soft kiss on Zack’s mouth. “Good luck with your father.” And instantly I punish myself for the statement. I know that’s the wrong thing to say to Zack before he has to deliver bad news to a man he respects above everyone else. He doesn’t need luck. He needs courage and I know he has it even if he doesn’t believe it right now.

“Okay,” he says, “and please pass along my gratitude to Ren for saving your life. I owe him big.”

“Ren doesn’t really like to be thanked, so I’ll definitely do it.”

I turn and leave before I get the urge to abandon my responsibility at the conversion labs and instead stay and drape myself around Zack for the rest of the day.

***

The first thing that starts my adrenaline flowing is to find the door at the back of the conversion lab propped open. I’m not sure why but it seems strange. Out of place. And then my pulse pauses when I enter to find the hallway empty. Ren isn’t in his usual spot waiting for me. My eyes fix on the splatters of red on the pristine white tile floor. The droplets of blood mark the surface with a bold contrast. My pulse gallops through my body, hurdling over rational thoughts in my head. I dare to take three steps down the hall.

“Ren,” I say my voice a nervous hush. My soles make note of each of my steps, squeaking on the floor under me.

An abrupt slamming sound makes me jump. I bite my tongue as I wheel around to where the noise came from. The board propping the door open has been removed.

“Shit,” I squeak out. This is a trick.

The hallway is still empty. Just me and someone’s blood. I back up until I meet the door I came through. I’m unsurprised to find it doesn’t open. A blunt rush into the door tells me something on the other side is preventing it from being opened. Probably the board that was propping it open is jamming it shut. I draw in the energy around me, surveying the area for a Dream Traveler’s power. I want to feel Ren’s energy. I don’t.

I only feel one pure Dream Traveler in this area. Like the taste of water, the energy’s flavor is subtle, marked with remnants of the person it belongs to. It leaves a mineral taste in my mouth like I’ve swallowed a mouthful of lithium-laced water. The kind that bubbles up from the spring to the west. This energy soaks into my being, coating my body with a revulsion I haven’t been punished with in a few months. And I know now with absolute certainty that President Vider is waiting for me. He’s set this trap. And I’ve walked straight into it.

I suck in what might be one of my last breaths and face the long hallway. I begin to follow the path of the blood. Which I now suspect is Ren’s blood.

The door to the conversion operating room squeaks when it pulls back a few inches. I sense it’s my invitation. And what are my options? I’m obviously trapped. I can run through the labs looking for a place to hide but something tells me there will be no exits. Vider only operates through strategic actions. He won’t have left me any ways to escape. I must face this. I must face him. I press my hand against the door, pushing it back. The rush of cold from the OR greets me first. The room is minimal with trays of tools, white cabinets, and countertops flanking the wall. An overhead bright operating light hangs over a metal surgical table. And perched on the side of the table is Vider.

A shiver from the cold, or from his predatory appearance, rips down my spine. Vider wears a wool gray suit and a look that makes me think he wants to eat me alive. His almost black hair is slicked back as usual but strangely he’s wearing long sideburns, which do everything to reinforce his wolf-like appearance. Immediately I leech him, and it’s then that I sense the presence of three men at my back. I smell each of their individual odors, hear each of their individual heartbeats. One has a heart murmur. And I know without a doubt they are Middlings meant to keep me here hostage.

“As you know from leeching my super senses you are trapped, sweet Em,” Vider says, a satisfied snarl punctuating his sentence. I turn and see the three men crowding the hallway. They all stand like soldiers regarding me without an ounce of sympathy to my predicament. And to my heart’s disappointment one of these men is Dean, the farmer I worked alongside for years. Now he stares back at me with cold eyes, none of his genuine warmth present.

“Of course,” Vider says, gaining my attention back on him. “You can electrocute me right now if you like. Hell, you can take all of us down. I’m quite aware of that, but you know me well enough to know I have an insurance policy, don’t you?”

Ren.

“That’s right,” he says, as comprehension dawns on my face. “Harm me or my men and the people you love will suffer a fate worse than anything you do to me. Is that clear, Em?”

“Why did you say people?” I say with a shiver.

He grins and it looks all wrong on his sinister face. “You obviously know I have Ren. But you may not know that your mother had no reservations about giving her daughter over to me, knowing I was going to use her to defend myself from you.”

No, not Nona! Panic wants to encroach my thoughts. Rip through my mind. Steal my breath, but I stop it at once. Immediately I corral my panic, knowing I can never let Vider sense the fear in me. He’ll feed off of it. “That’s because my mother is soulless, like your daughter Dee,” I say.

Vider’s green eyes narrow on me. “Do you think your knowledge gives you power?” he says with a sniveling grin, his prominent canines flashing at me. “Power comes from what you have and I have what you want. Do what I say and Nona won’t be harmed.”

I gulp for air, but my lungs can’t capture enough to keep my head from swimming.

“Now put on these gloves,” he says, throwing a pair of industrial-strength rubber gloves at me. I inspect them and know at once they will stop my electricity. I hesitate.

“Or don’t put them on and I’ll make a little call. How many people’s deaths are you responsible for already? Do we want to add your sister’s to it?” His tone is mocking. Antagonizing. And it’s persuasive.

With my nerves vibrating my brain I slip the gloves on.

“Good girl. Now put these on,” he says, tossing a pair of handcuffs at me.

I catch the shiny metal handcuffs in my gloved hands. “You’ve already made your threats and told me what you’ll do to me if I disobey you,” I argue.

“And you’ve already proven that you love to disobey me. I know you will sacrifice yourself to save your family. It’s your weakness. And I fear you’ll make the impractical attempt to try and escape thinking you can rescue Nona. But you should know, there’s no rescuing her. All you can hope is to do what I say and I won’t harm the little innocent girl,” Vider says.

Without seeing another option, I slip the first cuff on my wrist. To my dismay it only fits if I stick it on over the glove, which pins the rubber casing more permanently on my hand. “Happy?” I say when the other handcuff is tightened all the way, tethering my gloved hands together.

“Oh, exceedingly,” Vider says, standing from the table where dream travel children’s abilities are severed. “Join me, won’t you?” He takes five steps and pushes the door behind me shut. I didn’t need him to be this close for me to smell what he had for breakfast on his breath or hear the calm beats of his pulse. But now I’m ultra-aware of his movements and how they’re coated in a mesmerizing grace, one used to deceive. To lure his prey into a state of confusion so he can insert his messages. But this gift of his doesn’t work on me.

I reverse until the stitches on my back press into the door. Vider leans down over me, his nostrils flaring. “Do you enjoy leeching me? Do you like having heightened senses and the power to allure prey and trap their mind?”

I want to spit in his face, which doesn’t hold as many wrinkles as most men in their mid-forties. Instead, I slide to the right, trying to capture some distance.

“What have you done with Ren?” I ask, my voice calm, although seeing the blood in the hallway makes me fear the worst.

“What I find entertaining,” he says, sliding over closer to me, “is that you were able to successfully go behind my back in my Valley and save so many Defects from conversion. I’m always happy to offer praise to a worthy opponent and you and Ren have proven to be that. But to think that my own citizens wouldn’t confess their wrongdoings and seek my forgiveness makes me awfully disappointed in you. When are you going to realize that I control these people, Em?”

So someone ratted us out. A weak Defect probably, fearing Vider’s wrath if they were caught. Good thing I never shared everything with the Defects I saved from conversion.

“What have you done with Ren?” I repeat.

Vider’s long pointy fingernail finds my side. He drags it up my torso, along my chest, then my neck, and pauses at my jaw. Revulsion churns in my stomach.

“Ren, like you, is going to be punished. His punishment, though, will be short and painful.” He slides the finger down my jaw and pinches my chin, his fingernail sinking into my skin. “How dare he come into my Valley, at my invitation, and go behind my back to help you,” Vider says, pressing his face in close to mine. “And you, sweet Em, will also be punished, but yours will be long. Exceedingly long. After your conversion I’m keeping you. Personally keeping you. How does that sound?”

I open my mouth to protest, to argue. But before I can Vider presses in so close, his mouth whispers against mine. “And you’ll be such a zombie from the conversion that you’ll have zero capacity to fight me ever again. I’m not taking any chances with you. Yours will be an aggressive conversion.” He pulls back, the taste of his breath still in my nostrils. “And that’s fine by me because I don’t want you for your mind. I want you to serve as an example,” he says with a long growl.

I sidestep to the left and find a way to break away from him. I back toward the opposite wall and Vider stands looking pleased.

“This war you think you’ve waged is over,” he says. “A valiant effort but know that it was never going to work. You have lost Rogue. You will lose Ren. All Defects will undergo actual conversion. And you will march alongside them. You will become my model citizen.”

“I would die before I allowed myself to become that,” I say.

“Oh no, that’s not how this is going to go. I’ve decided that your fate is that you’ll live. You’ll live while everyone you love dies. That is their fate. And your memories will stay intact so that you realize how much you’ve lost just by trying to defy me. I will go to great lengths to keep you alive. And please know that I’ll take great pleasure in watching your heartache, knowing I was the one who ensured all the people you cared about died while you survived without them.”

“You said you wouldn’t harm Nona if I did what you wanted, if I didn’t harm you,” I say, panic exuding out of my voice now.

He wrenches open the door and gives me one last look over his shoulder. “I lied.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I jerk at the handcuffs, securely tightened around the rubber gloves. The gloves and handcuffs that I put on my own hands. Rogue would have told me never to believe his father. Never to trust him. I should have electrocuted him when I had a chance and run after Nona and Ren. But honestly, where would I have run to? He obviously has them held somewhere secret. And my electricity reserves deplete fast. I might have emptied them by the time I knocked down Vider. Then I’d be confronting three angry Middling men and the fact that Ren and Nona were ordered to be murdered if anything happened to Vider.

The gloves chafe my wrists as I yank against the cuffs, trying to work my hands out of their confines. I’m the most powerful person in this Valley, and somehow I find myself trumped by some rubber and a piece of metal. I can’t rely on my gift or my electricity. There’s only one way to save me and therefore Nona.

Please, gods, watch over her.
Don’t let her be hurt. Please.

I race to the door Vider just went through. The door lever is a long-handled one. Perfect. I guide the chain between my handcuffs over it and pull down. The door opens and I yank it back, slipping the chain free of the handle at once and standing in the entryway. In front of me stands a single Middling. Dean. I grew up alongside him in the fields planting crops, harvesting them, and sharing stories. But from the cold look he punishes me with I don’t think he recognizes me, or at the least all the goodwill that existed between us has been squashed out by Vider’s brainwashing.

“Get back in there,” he says over his shoulder. “Your conversion doctor will be in there in a minute.”

And he’ll stick me with a sedative and I’ll be out and when I awake I’ll be a zombie. I’ll be a robot who screams from inside knowing everyone I love is dead, at Vider’s hands.

“Where are the other two men? The other Middlings?” I ask.

Dean bristles. “They’re accompanying the President. They’ll return soon. Get back inside that room before I have to encourage you back inside,” he says, whipping around and brandishing a Taser.

I don’t appreciate Vider’s choice of weapon. It feels too personal.

My tethered hands reach into the air. “Look, I’m not trying to cause a problem at all,” I say. Vider has thought of everything. He’s figured out how to incapacitate my electricity. How to make me cooperate. He even trapped me after figuring out what I’d been doing. But I do have one advantage on Vider. I know how he controls Middlings and I’ve undone his brainwashing. “All I want, Dean, is to ask you two questions.” I say his name with the same inflection I used for so many years, drawing out his name into two syllables when it should be one. “The first is about your happiness. You don’t look like you used to. With a hopeful spirit. With a resilient determination to be happy in the face of awful circumstances.”

He inhales a sharp breath, and the way he whips around and comes at me makes my pulse pause. “If you must know, I’m not happy!” he roars right up against my face. His hot breath and spit assault my skin. “Do you know what it’s like to live as a Middling? I don’t assume you do since you’ve been graced with the pampered life of a Dream Traveler. But things aren’t always chipper in our world. Things are wrong and awful and dirty. Miss Em,” he says, using his old title for me, “you wouldn’t appreciate living like we do.”

I smile inside, although angry hands have pinned me against the sidewall. At least I know the drugs in the water have worn off. Now I have an extremely angry and bitter Middling who is diabolical in nature after everything he’s had to endure. But he’s my best chance. Either he’ll kill me or I’ll kill myself at this point. “If you allow yourself to remember, I always campaigned for you to have better living assignments,” I say.

He blinks, like searching for the memory in his mind.

“Dean,” I say, “did all these emotions of dissatisfaction just set in?”

“Like a flood,” he says, his words hot and angry.

“That’s because I took the happy pills out of your water supply.”

He holds the Taser up close to my neck, confused outrage on his face. “What are you talking about?” he says through crooked, clenched teeth.

“Vider has been drugging you for over a decade so that you’d be complacent and go along with all of it: long hours, menial jobs, rough living assignments.”

“No,” he rejects at once, pinching my forearms to the wall.

“Why do you think he wants me here? Because I’m a problem and he has no idea what sorts of problems I’ve created for him. I’ve undrugged his people. I’ve made you wake up. Don’t you remember the euphoria you used to feel living in this Valley? It’s gone, isn’t it? In the last day or two? Don’t you wonder why?”

He steps back, his hands releasing me. Shakes his head, his loose, greasy hair flowing with the movement.

I make to move away from the wall and he warns me with a single angry look, one I don’t want to challenge. “I’m not going anywhere. But you see it, don’t you?”

He makes to nod, but then shakes his head again. “I don’t know,” he says.

“Well, I had two questions I wanted to ask. May I ask you the other one?”

He looks up from where his hands had been cradling his forehead. “What?” he says, his voice sharp, his eyes blazing with frustration.

“Do you remember her? The infant you and Patsy lost? The one who died and you were told it was from a genetic disorder?”

He blanches at the random question. Scratches his head. “Barely.” His temper seems to slip to the backstage as his mind trails back into the past. I watch his eyes look without seeing. The modifier has been used on him, but I know it’s not strong enough to block the entire memory. “Think, Dean. Think about her. About your baby. The moment you saw her in the doctor’s arms. The moment he returned and she was gone. Think!” I implore.

“Why are you so cruel?” he says suddenly, his voice harsh and deep. “Yes, of course I remember. I can’t completely forget. What kind of corrupt human being throws that up in someone’s face?”

“The kind who knows exactly how she died and how deceived you’ve been,” I say.

He searches me, waiting for an alarm detecting my lie to go off.

“She didn’t have to die, Dean. She was an experiment of Vider’s.”

“Stop it,” he says, a vengeful tone in his voice.

“No,” I demand. “Kill me now if you want to. But you’re my last chance to save my sister and my uncle and a population of Middlings and Defects who have been traded for the happiness of a few elite Dream Travelers. Do what you will to me after hearing what I have to say, but you need to know the truth. The man you work for made mistakes and one of those mistakes involved your daughter. He stole too much of her spinal fluid too prematurely after her birth and it killed her. This spinal fluid he used to create the drug he injects into Defects. It’s this drug that suppresses our gifts, that makes us Defects. Vider is lying about who we are and what’s wrong with us. When we are without the injections our gifts surface.”

“Why would he do that?” He’s not convinced, but Dean is something I’ve rarely witnessed in a Middling in this town. He’s skeptical. He almost looks willing to believe his world isn’t as it seems.

“Because Defects are rebellious in nature and threaten his authority,” I say. “And he’s drugged your water supply, taken your children’s spinal fluid, and suppressed an entire generation of children to maintain leadership over the Reverians. I’m not the enemy that you think I am. He has you holding me here so that I don’t create the war that will bring him down.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he says, a cold look of animosity in his eyes.

I blink. Think. “Because I’m willing to die to help you achieve freedom and equal rights. I risked my life to take those meds out of your water supply so that you’d wake up. So that you’d fall out of the euphoria and realize you don’t like living a life as a slave. And I woke you up so you could fight beside me and obtain the freedom and true happiness you deserve.” I point my cuff-linked hands at myself. “I’ve lived in secrecy in this Valley when as a Dream Traveler I could have been anywhere. I could have run from the Valley, you know that. After I broke into the labs and Rogue and I fled our fathers you know I could have kept running. I could be so far away from this Valley and living a safe and happy life. I can have any gift I want using my leeching ability, which means I can have anything I want. But I didn’t flee. I’m not off living on some exotic beach. I stayed all so that I could create this war and free my people. If you can’t see that my every intention is good, if you can’t remember my good intentions from years of working beside me, then leave me here to be converted.” And knowing I can say no more, I press my eyelids shut and count back from thirty.

It’s his hand on my wrist that makes me stop counting. I fear he’s about to pull me forward and slam me against the wall. The anger in him has boiled to a new degree. But then something jostles the handcuffs followed by a sharp click. I open my eyes to find a sobering look in Dean’s expression.

“Tell me what happens next, because letting you go isn’t my last job,” he says, pulling the handcuffs off me. And he does look angry. But I know instinctively that it isn’t at me anymore.

I slip off the gloves, tossing them by the examining table, but I grab the handcuffs and key from Dean.

“Go and gather every Middling you can. Take them to a place large and private,” I say with a wink, hoping he’ll know where I mean. “I’ll meet you there in less than an hour.”

I run for the exit at once, knowing I have to get out of here. I need to find Nona and Ren, but I have to be ready first, because right now I’m completely unprepared. I turn at the door. “And thank you, Dean. Thanks for believing in me. I’ll die if I have to, to ensure you’re set free.”

“I believe you wholeheartedly, Miss Em,” he says. “That’s why I let you go.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I sprint down the hallway still flecked with blood and bound through the door, relieved to find it’s not jammed shut anymore. In the next hour I will need to travel to three opposite ends of this Valley. And I couldn’t care less that the act of running isn’t appreciated by my injuries. I set off down the back alley to the neighborhood where I was born.

Zack’s parents’ house is down the street from my old home. I’ve spent almost as much time there over the years as I did in my own house. John and Molly Conerly never seemed to mind my constant presence in their home. That might change after today.

I burst through the door without knocking. Zack spins around from his place on the couch. His mother is crying, her hand in her fair hair which is pinned back in shiny barrettes. John, who is my father’s age but looks older somehow, has a comforting hand on his wife’s distressed shoulder.

Zack bolts into a standing position at the site of me. “Em,” he says, a frantic worry jumping to his features. “What is it?”

“Nona,” I pant, having run nonstop for the whole two miles. “And Ren,” I say. “Vider has them. He’s made threats. He’s going to kill them.”

Zack doesn’t flinch from my panicky words, but instead his eyes search me. They stop on my wrist. I peer down to notice that the tight handcuffs have chaffed my skin, creating red bands.

“The President was holding you, wasn’t he? But you got away,” Zack states, his brain working as fast as ever, filling in details, piecing together evidence.

I nod, my breath whipping through my lungs in ragged spurts.

A look of fear mixed with relief blankets Zack’s face. It almost makes me crumble from the emotions bounding out of my chest. Luckily his arms wrap around me at once, holding me up.

“Gods, I’m so grateful you got away,” he says, relief in his every word. Over his shoulder I spy his parents, who are now standing. His mother is trembling slightly.

I stand back from Zack. “We need to act fast,” I say. “I have to get Nona before it’s too late.”

Zack swipes his hands through his hair, which isn’t governed by its usual product and hangs loose. “Nona,” he says, and in just the mention of her name I hear my same fear radiate in his voice.

“Do they know everything?” I say, indicating his parents.

Zack nods.

I step toward them and John Conerly steps forward. Before I have a chance to say anything he says, “What can I do to help you save your sister?” And there’s a genuine concern in his voice, one that’s reinforced by the look in his blue eyes.

I have always trusted Zack’s father. Now I’m going to have to put my life in his hands. “Mr. Conerly, I need you to go to Government Center. Use the excuse that you’re cleaning out your office. Get into my father’s or Vider’s office and find any evidence you can linking them to the crimes Zack explained to you.”

He gulps and suddenly looks much older. And yet he nods and the way he does it instantly reminds me of Zack. “I might also have financial records from my own files I can grab,” John says, “I never thought much of them before but under this new light I think they tell a different story than I originally believed.”

“Perfect,” I say but my voice carries zero enthusiasm. Then I grab a pen and paper from the writing desk that’s been in their living room for all my life. I scribble down a name, an email address, and a phone number. I’m grateful Ren demanded I memorize it. “Get the information as fast as you can and then send it to this man.”

John stares at the paper and then his son.

“Thank you, Dad,” Zack says and grabs my hand and pulls me through the open door without saying goodbye. We don’t have time for such luxuries.

“What’s the plan?” Zack asks, letting me take the lead. I sprint down the main road, unconcerned about being spotted.

“I’m going to the Middling apartments to inform as many of the Defects faking conversion as I can that we need help. You go to Parker’s office and tell him to spread the news to his patients. He needs to tell them to hide in various places around the main plaza, Government Center, and the northeast perimeter of the city.”

Zack grabs my wrist and jerks me around to face him. “No, Em, I’m not leaving you. You were already captured once today.”

“And you already know we don’t have time to argue about this. Every second wasted is another one where Vider could have Nona killed. I need those kids stationed inside the city. I need them ready to defend. And I’m going to need their help from within. Please, Zack, as leaders we have to make sacrifices.”

I feel the worry in his being and I can’t argue it away. All I can do is make the most logical argument. And Zack knows all too well that everything we do from this moment forward is a death mission and he also knows we have no choice. I see the understanding in his eyes at once. He’s calculated the possibilities. The options. The alternatives. And he’s done it all within seconds. Finally, he sighs. “Fine, where do I meet you?”

“In the Agriculture Center,” I say.

“But that’s on the opposite side of town!”

“And it’s where our army is being assembled,” I say.

“But they’ll never make it into the town center. Vider will see them coming,” he says.

“Which is why I need those Defects in place. They have their gifts and they can help us get back into the city and storm Government Center.”

The workings of my full plan dawn on Zack and with it a smile I wish I could preserve for all of time. “You’re a genius,” he says proudly.

“I learned by watching you.”

His hand is on my shoulder yanking me into him. “Be careful, Em.”

“I promise,” I say and kiss him once, but then I’m gone too fast. I don’t even reward myself with one last look back at him as I sprint in the opposite direction.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Not ten minutes later I break my promise to Zack about being careful. I make a fatal error. I run straight into the apartment building where all converted Defects live and collide straight into two armed guards. I was naive to think Vider didn’t have this place locked down, knowing that almost every resident here is a Defect with a full-fledged gift.

A lanky red-headed guard flexes his hand on the automatic rifle strapped on his shoulder. He points it directly at me.

“What business do you have here?” he says, his words terse.

He doesn’t recognize me.

My eyes trail up the stairs and I notice the back of another uniformed soldier as he paces the second floor. This place is crawling with armed guards. A quick sweep of the Dream Traveler energies in the building and I’m confident that hundreds of Defects are being held prisoner here. That’s probably the plan until each is converted.

“I’m just lost,” I stammer out. “Is this 222 Scenic Drive?”

“No, it’s 126 Scenic,” the other guard says, irritated.

My eyes drop to his gun. In this building there’s hundreds, maybe thousands of gifts I can leech, but I have no idea what I’m working with. So I do the one thing no one would do when facing two armed men. I guess. My eyes narrow on the guns and I hold the intention of destroying them. I leech gifts from the closest Dream Travelers, probably residents on the first floor, and pray one of them gives me a good result here. Otherwise I don’t doubt one of the guards will shoot, especially when they realize who I am.

My eyes barely register the movement and thankfully the guard’s eyes are pinned on me. Individually both of the ends of the rifles bend. The metal barrels actually curve in on themselves until they’re facing back at the guards holding the guns. Someone in the near vicinity has the gift of super-strength telekinesis. It’s what I’d been gambling on. I’d heard rumors about this girl. She can’t move a book with her mind but she can tear it in two.

Both guards simultaneously turn their attention on their now crooked gun barrels. And then by the crazed look in their eyes I know exactly what I have to do. It’s the only option that without a doubt I know will preserve me at this point against two desperate guards who have just realized who they’re up against. I whip my hand into the air. The first guard shields his face but that doesn’t block the electricity I shoot at him. I have only a second to aim my other hand at the second guard and attack him before he charges me. Both men slam to the ground and vibrate with tremors. They aren’t dead but they are passed out. Who knows how long it will last.

The click overhead seizes my attention at once. I look up to see a guard with his weapon raised. He’s just released the safety. And that’s when I pray there’s a Defect nearby with Rogue’s gift of super speed. I dart to the right just as bullets fire in rapid succession marking my path. I’m indeed moving at superhuman speed and just in time to find a shield behind a column in the lobby. I pause there for only a second. Sensing the guard moving down the steps, I slide out from behind the column and stand and face him. Another Middling, wearing a tan uniform. He halts on the step, aims, and before he can release the trigger I throw my hand up and unleash a jolt of electricity. But this time only a small spark sprints out of my hand. My reserves are empty. The dark haired guard unveils a satisfied grin.

“You’re every bit the animal President Vider warned us about. And you should know he ordered us to take you out if necessary,” the guard says, looking too pleased. “I deem this necessary.”

My blood freezes. Head swims. I have a dozen options and yet I can’t think of one quickly enough. I make to bend the soldier’s gun but the energy is gone. The girl has moved and is too far away now for me to leech. I search for a different telekinetic gift but there isn’t one close enough. I’m only gifted with unclear abilities and most of them are intuitive if I’m judging right. Someone nearby is telepathic but that only tells me this guy wants to kill me, something I already know. My only option is to stall so that I can leech energy and fill back up my electricity reserves.

“Wait,” I say, holding up my hands. “I have something to say.”

“Shut up!” the guy bellows. “I’ve been warned not to let you speak. Only deceit comes out of your mouth. Now say goodbye to this wo—” And the guy freezes. Literally freezes. His mouth is frozen in mid-sentence. His eyes stare at me unblinking. My mind stumbles over this turn of events, trying to make sense of it, and then the man tumbles forward, but all wrong. Instead of rolling down the flight of stairs in front of him he somersaults oddly. His body too stiff. His gun knocks into his face, but thankfully doesn’t go off. And then he lands in a heap at the bottom. And there at the top of the stairs stands a small boy, younger than Nona. He’s wearing a proud smile. Riley. I remember him from when I gave him the conversion speech. He agreed before I was even done. Said he always sensed something was wrong in our government. Now the little boy with skin the color of coffee grounds stares back at me with that same tenacious spirit.

“You did that?” I ask, pointing at the crumbled guard.

“Yes, thanks to you,” he says, his brown eyes lighting up. “My gift is paralysis. I can freeze any living thing for a few seconds, sometimes longer. And thanks to you, I have my gift.”

I gulp in a long breath. “Thank you, Riley. Now, are there more guards?”

He nods. “On every level.”

“But level one and two are clear now?” I ask, scanning the long hallway off to the left.

“I think so,” he says.

“Then go and tell the Rebels on those floors that you all have a mission. I want you to organize yourselves and storm each level, overtaking the guards using your powers. I want you all working together,” I say.

“We can do that,” he says, confidence in his small voice. “We’ve been waiting for you to save us. To give us a chance to be Rebels. I knew you would.”

I can’t help the proud smile that forms on my face. “I hope I didn’t make you wait long.”

“No, you didn’t,” he says, his grin so wide it tightens my chest.

So Vider has organized his own army. I should have expected this. If they are here then they are everywhere and will make this war more dangerous than I thought. I turn and run for the exit, knowing I need to make it to the Agriculture Center as quickly as possible. At the door I turn to face Riley. “Once you’ve defeated the soldiers here, I want you to go to the center of town. I’ll need reinforcements.”

“We are really doing this, aren’t we?” the excited boy says. “We are fighting back!”

“That’s right. But first the Rebels here have to be freed.” I motion up to the ten stories above us. “And I want you leading that mission.”

He salutes me and says, “It would be an honor.”

I smile proudly and dart back out onto the streets into the afternoon sun.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Three miles. That’s how many I run to reach the Agriculture Center on the outskirts of town. The surrounding fields of crops and the warehouses hold fond memories for me. Since I was eight years old I’ve dedicated my leisure hours to helping out at the farm. My passion for farming was first stirred when I visited there on a school field trip. I remember reaching my hand into a pile of fertile soil and remarking that it was the best feeling ever. Zack of course looked at me like I’d lost my mind. The next day I returned to the farm and asked Dean if I could help out. Short-staffed and overworked, he agreed immediately. And it didn’t take long before the seeds I planted were plump vegetables I pruned and later harvested. For some reason, things grow for me. My knack for yielding robust and plentiful crops was noted the following year at the markets.

Sprinting past a field lined by poplar trees, I ready the words that will need to come out of my mouth in a few moments. I’m hoping that Dean has convinced a hundred or more Middlings to join this crusade. I need their support and strength. And partnering them with the Rebels is what will hopefully put a swift halt to this battle. I’m all too aware that Dream Traveler Reverians will be a huge opposition to our success. They are stubborn and have the least reason to support this change. But thanks to Vider’s recent recruitment efforts, Middlings outnumber Dream Travelers. If I can convince them to overthrow the government then this has a chance of working.

My pace slows from sheer disbelief when I round the corner at the end of the line of poplar trees. Now with a clear view of the agricultural warehouse I’m startled by the sight that lies before me. There are too many Middlings to fit in the gigantic warehouse, which is the size of an airplane hangar. The open field in front of the warehouse is swarming with Middlings. Men and women bundled up in jackets to protect them from the brisk winter winds fill the large field in front of the opened doors. Their backs are to me as I take off again at a sprint. People stand up on tiptoes or bobble back and forth, trying to see over their neighbor’s shoulder. Everyone’s attention is focused on something inside the warehouse. As I near I hear someone making a speech. It’s not until I arrive at the back of the crowd that I recognize the voice. It’s unmistakably Zack’s.

“Pardon me,” I say, slipping through the crowd, encouraging my way to the front. Now I can see that a makeshift platform has been erected at the far end of the warehouse and there standing on it addressing the crowd is Zack.

“I recognize that I’m asking you to endanger your lives by marching into the city. We don’t know how Vider will react. But no one is forcing you to do anything.” Zack’s voice slides over the crowd as I continue to move forward, closer to him. “You are free people who can march out of this Valley if you so desire. Now that you know the truth and are no longer brainwashed, you don’t have to face the government or the President who has oppressed you. In twenty minutes you all could be on the other side of the border and free to live the life you deserve. No drama. No bloodshed. No confrontation. But don’t you want to? Don’t you want to confront the government that’s drugged you, stolen from you, ruled over you, murdered your children, and given you no choice about how to live your life? And don’t you want to stop this President who thinks he can use you?”

The crowd around me cheers, voices shouting their approval. Middlings continue to part, allowing me to pass through the mass of people.

“If you do want to protest this government, and make its injustices known, then now is the time,” Zack shouts.

I’ve always been captivated by him when he speaks from a place of passion, but now I’m in awe of him. As I spy the inspiration and encouragement stretching across the faces I pass, I’m enlivened by Zack.

“We hold strength in numbers. We have strength in being united. Now what we need is a clear message,” Zack says. “One that states our case.”

There’s a murmur throughout the crowd. I’m only five or six people back from the front. A women’s voice booms over the others in the sea of people. “No more oppressive rule. No more President Vider,” she chants.

Through a crack in the crowd I spy the victorious smile on Zack’s face. “No more oppressive rule. No more President Vider,” he repeats, and the swarm of Middlings join in at once.

“No more oppressive rule. No more President Vider,” the people carol.

I slip past the last person and stand staring up at Zack. His eyes are sweeping over the crowd as the people cheer. He’s careful to keep a look of hope on his face, but I know him well enough to spy the worry edging around his eyes. He’s searching for me and he doesn’t see me right in front of him.

I step forward, creating a divide between me and the cheering Middlings, and Zack’s eyes dart to me instantly. The relief that swallows the worry on his face lightens my chest. He extends a hand to me and I take it, allowing him to pull me onto the stage. I turn and face the crowd, which goes quiet at once. Immediately I’m humbled by the sight before me. Over a thousand faces stare back at me. Some faces I recognize, but most I don’t. These are the people who have cared for our Valley, who have made the real sacrifices. And each one of their faces is lit up with an inspiring determination.

“Here beside me stands the person responsible for fighting for your freedom. It’s because of Em Fuller that this revolution has come so far,” Zack says, his hand still in mine. “Do you want to say something?” Zack whispers in my ear.

I nod. Step forward. “We are about to march into the city,” I say, my voice clear, loud. “There will be obstacles. Vider is expecting an attack on his government. And I can’t promise you that people won’t be hurt. I can’t promise you that Vider won’t use deadly force to stop us from overthrowing his rule. But I can promise you that I will lead this protest. And I can promise you that if we win this then everything will change. You will not work for Dream Travelers, you will work beside us. So, I have one final disclaimer for you,” I say and pause, sweeping my eyes over the crowd. “Do not enter this fight unless you want to be our equal.”

Chapter Thirty

The agriculture section of Austin Valley sits on an eastern facing hill so the crops capture as much morning sunlight as possible. It’s from the edge of the farm that the best views of the Valley can be seen. From the farm’s location, elevated five hundred feet over Austin Valley, one can clearly see most of the town and specifically the tallest building in the heart. Government Center stands like a tower around the squattier buildings in the main plaza. Its white stone contrasts against the bright colors of the marketplace buildings and the green hills behind it. And from my spot on the ridge beside the farm I know without seeing them that troops are spreading out in the town, swarming to the northeast borders where we will enter. And while the distance makes it too difficult to spy the individual soldiers moving into place, I’m certain that Vider sees us from his perch on the top floor of the Government Center building.

The line of Middlings stretching out on either side of me is probably grabbing the attention of every Reverian in the city. Never before have a thousand people stood on this ridge shoulder to shoulder and looked down on Austin Valley. People have never had a reason to organize this way or the means to communicate to do so.

I peek my head out of formation and the sight that winks back at me makes something invisible hit the back of my throat. Middlings flank the ridge, farm tools in their hands as weapons. Behind me rows and rows of people stand at the ready. All prepared to protest the abuse they’ve endured. On my right with his broad shoulders held back is Dean, a look of raw determination written on his face. On my left is Zack, a brutal intensity marking his eyes. He spies me looking up at him and leans over.

“Don’t leave my side,” he whispers.

“Never again,” I agree.

“Let’s do this,” he says and then it’s Zack who takes the first step forward. And he starts the chant that everyone joins in on.

“No more oppressive rule. No more President Vider!”

The hill is steep and we are down it before my eyes register the line of tan-uniformed soldiers covering the perimeter of the city. Just as I suspected. A man steps out of line. He wears several stripes around his forearm.

I halt and like a connected machine the Middlings stop with me. I step out of formation, the crisp winter air whipping across my face. The sun is bright overhead, but I feel none of its warmth.

“We don’t want trouble,” I say to the commander who stands at least a foot over me. “We want Vider out of office and democracy returned to Austin Valley. Let us pass because there are people in this city who need to be rescued and people who need to be stopped.” All I can think about is Nona, but to save her and Ren I have to capture Vider. He’s the key.

“I’m under strict orders not to allow you and the Middlings into the nation of Austin Valley,” the commander says, his voice deep, cold.

It isn’t a nation, I seethe to myself. Another illusion of Vider’s. “We will pass,” I say. “I ask that you stand down so no one gets hurt.”

“People will obviously be hurt,” the man says. “We will not stand down.”

“You are aware who I am?” I ask. “And what I’m capable of?”

“Em Fuller, I’m a Middling. You are powerless against me and my army. You are a weak girl and that is all.” The commander holds up his hand and at his command the soldiers all ready their guns, pointing them at us. There’s a line of fifty soldiers that stretches along our length.

The commander, with a head full of gray hair, looks strengthened by his army’s show of power. But he fails to notice that the Middlings around me, who now have guns pointed at them, don’t look scared.

“And,” he continues, his voice swimming with arrogance, “your army surrounding you are all Middlings. I know exactly how your gift works and I know you are powerless in the current company.”

“Against my preference you’ve made your choice,” I say, my voice echoing over the hills.

The commander laughs and looks truly entertained by my almost threat.

“And,” I say, drawing out the word, “the people around me aren’t all Middlings. There’s one Dream Traveler.”

His laughter halts just as his gaze sweeps the crowd, confusion constricting his features. His eyes land on Zack and he must recognize him but it’s too late. Leeching Zack, I telekinetically rip the automatic weapons out of the soldiers’ hands simultaneously just as I did with the books. But I don’t throw them to the ground. I love books. But I hate guns. The rifles gather in the air like a storm cloud overhead. The soldiers’ eyes all raise to spy the cluster of weapons hovering over their heads and then with a firm intention I throw them on the far side of the empty field, roughly five hundred yards away. And immediately the burning starts in my chest, a fast-moving fire meant to burn me alive from the energy I just leeched from Zack. I glance at him briefly and am relieved to see he doesn’t look too depleted, but does look rather impressed. The soldiers have disassembled slightly. Some are backing up, some stepping into a fighting stance, but most are looking to their commander, who has a fierce look on his face.

“Last chance,” I say, my breath hot from the fire inside me. “Let us pass.”

“You may have just taken all our weapons within a few seconds, but I’d rather face your punishment than Vider’s wrath,” he says bluntly.

“You fail to understand we’re here to take him down,” I say.

“You fail to understand that that’s impossible. Hold formation, men. Fight with your fists,” the commander orders. Some men pull knives from their belts, others just stand ready.

And I’ve avoided what I have to do for too long; the fire is making my hairline sweat, turning my skin red from the internal burning. I sweep my arm out and across the crowd of soldiers in front of me, the motion starting on the far left and ending on the right where the last soldier in the line stands. Electricity rips out of my hand. It sprays out in a horizontal line across the row of men, assaulting each in the chest and knocking them down like dominos. In one swift movement I exhausted the huge store of energy and my body instantly cools. No soldier stands. And now a clear path to the city has been made.

“If you don’t mind me saying this, miss,” Dean says at my side, “I’m not sure what you need us for. You just took down fifty men at once.”

“Dean, what you just witnessed is not something Zack or I can do again. It could kill us both. I got you into the city, now you get me into Government Center.”

Dean gives a decisive nod. “You got it.”

I chance a glance at Zack, whose stoic expression gives nothing away. I know without him saying it that he didn’t like to see what I just did but also agreed it was necessary. I reach out and tug on his shirt sleeve and his expression softens.

“That was incredibly done, Em,” he says, his voice hushed. His eyes dart to the nearest soldier, whose chest rises and falls although he’s completely incapacitated. “Let’s march,” he says, and we move forward into a city that I soon realize is already a mess of chaos. The war had begun before we even arrived.

Chapter Thirty-One

Austin Valley, with its perfectly manicured shrubbery and streetlights which are never burned out, tells a new story. The Rebels within the borders have started the fight we came here for. The Middlings we led into the city splay out, disarming soldiers, clearing a path for us and fighting alongside Rebels. Stranger than the idea that I just knocked down fifty men with a single bolt of lightning is the sight that’s being revealed before me. A group of Middlings surrounds Zack and me, ensuring we’re protected from an attack by Vider’s soldiers. But around them I still spy the chaos. Bikes lie in the middle of the street, abandoned by scared Dream Travelers. Windows in houses that sit close to the road are busted out. And the street under my feet is riddled with cracks and buckled in places.

Soldiers stand in plain view, stationed at every corner. It’s the Rebels who I realize are hiding. I watch as a keen soldier takes aim at us from twenty yards away. I’m just about to tell my entourage to dash for cover when the ground under the young man’s boots shakes and then cracks, like being assaulted by an earthquake. The soldier falls to his backside and then a branch from the tree overhead crashes down, landing on his body, pinning him in place. It’s then that I spy the Rebel responsible for the attack, a stocky boy. He darts out from behind a different tree, picks up the gun dropped by the soldier, and tosses it into a bush where it disappears at once. The boy turns around and winks at us before darting back to his hiding place. No wonder Vider created Defects. These kids have powerful gifts and the courage to match.

The Middlings huddle close to Zack and me as we move through a neighborhood where high-up Dream Travelers live. This area is eerily quiet compared to the one we just passed through. Far off I hear gunshots and screams and damage being done. My stomach curdles at the idea of all the violence ensuing here. And if there would have been another way I would have done it. But my main goal is to find Nona and that means drastic actions. Thinking of her locked up somewhere and potentially hurting brings a new confidence to my chest. I have to find her.

We’ve picked up our pace, moving at a jog when Dean throws up his hand, halting us. In unison we freeze.

“What is it?” I ask in a whisper that sounds too loud in the silent street.

“I think there’s a trap,” he says, his eyes scanning, searching.

“Why would they lay a trap here?” says a woman who stands on the other side of Zack. She’s the only woman who accompanied us. “This is not the direct route to Government Center.”

“Exactly. Don’t you think the President will expect us to take a less traveled route to avoid resistance?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing to dissect the seemingly innocent landscape in front of us.

It’s a tree-lined road. Pristine oversized lawns stretch out before brick mansions. The street is empty. Curtains drawn in all the houses.

A Middling man who’s had the front position since the beginning and looked a bit excited by this whole expedition lets out a long laugh. “Oh, Dean, you’re a farmer, not a special ops agent. Quit pretending like you got a special instinct on these things,” he says.

Dean shakes his head roughly. “I don’t like it. We should double back.”

“Why, because things are too quiet?” the man argues.

“Yes,” Dean says with short finality.

“That’s ridiculous and this is a waste of time,” the man says. He’s built like Dean, with thick muscles and strong hands. And before I realize it, one of his hands is wrapped around my wrist yanking me forward with a tenacity I can’t fight. “Come on, miss,” he says, “I’ll get you to Government Center. I know a shortcut from here.”

The man is pulling me, almost dragging my body. Under me, my feet can hardly keep up with how fast we’re moving. Behind me Dean calls out. The others scream their pleas too. But the man isn’t discouraged by their shouting. I can feel the adrenaline radiating off him as he sprints forward. “We’ll be there in no time,” the man says, through panting breaths. And because we’re moving so fast I stumble and roll over my ankle. A demanding pain shoots from the joint. It overwhelms my attention on my next step. I stumble again and it’s enough time for me to catch Zack right behind me. He’s close, racing after us. The man pulls me back to my feet and that’s when I realize there’s something incredibly wrong with my ankle. The overly excited man yanks me forward and each attempt to put weight on my ankle sends heart-stopping pain to my mind. “Come on,” the man yells. And then like a rope in tug-of-war I’m being stretched in two different directions. Someone has ahold of my other wrist and is pulling me back. I turn to see a fierce look on Zack’s face.

“Let her go,” he says to the man.

“I’m helping her,” the man says, continuing to half drag me through the streets. And then a competing yank stretches me in the opposite direction. I throw my bodyweight back into Zack in an attempt to help his effort. The man’s sweaty fingers lose their hold on me and Zack and I tumble back from the momentum. I land on him, on the rough road. And the man, having his own momentum, continues to sprint forward. It takes him several seconds to realize he’s let me go and then he’s already quite a few yards away. Over his shoulder he gives me a confused look, like he can’t understand why I’m not racing behind him, even though he’s not pulling me. He slows, his legs winding down from their fast sprint. And then I see the trap.

“No!” I yell. “Stop!”

The man brakes his pace too late. Just as he’s turning around to face us his leg bumps the trip wire and the scene before us explodes with fire, rock, and dirt.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Zack pulls me down onto him at once, shielding my head with his arms. My back is on his chest, my body protecting him. Dirt and rock rain down on us as the blast of fire makes mention on our skin. Too fast Zack rolls over, putting me under him. My face almost connects with the road, but I hold myself a safe distance from it, although the explosion is still vibrating the earth under me, making every movement unsteady. It feels like we stay crouched for minutes, but I’m sure it’s only seconds. Zack rolls off me just as Dean arrives with the others, his face wrecked with concern. He’s mouthing something at me and I can’t figure out why. And again he opens his mouth and says something but I can’t hear it. And that’s when the piercing ring detonates in my head. I slam my palm into my ear, like I’m hitting the button to an alarm clock. I spin around to look at Zack and his head is clapped between his hands. Again I assault my ears with my palm and this finally works to quiet the ringing, turning it to a dull hum.

“Are you all right, miss?” Dean says, pulling me upright.

As soon as my feet are underneath me I howl out in pain. “My ankle,” I say. But it’s just then that I catch the scene in front of me and forget everything. I’ve never seen an explosion before. I didn’t know how it scorched and wrecked and devastated everything in its wake. Lucky for our proximity to the explosion, it appears to have been a small bomb. But small bombs still kill. I whip around as soon as my eyes land on the pieces of the man’s body, sprayed out in different places along the ten-foot radius of the bomb site. Zack wraps his arms around me at once, allowing me to bury my face into his chest. After a few seconds he pulls back, looks me over.

“Are you okay? Besides your ankle?” he asks.

There’s a red scratch down one of his cheeks and several cuts on his neck. I graze my hand along his jaw. “Are you?”

He nods, a relieved smile on his face.

“We better head out,” Dean says at our sides. I pull back and look at Dean, who’s scanning the surrounding area. “That bomb will have gotten us some attention.”

I nod, trusting Dean’s instincts more than ever. “Which way?” I say, careful to keep my eyes off the scene that I know lies just twenty yards away.

“I think we’re safe to keep moving forward. I don’t suspect they’d have other bombs on this path. That one should have been enough to stop us,” Dean says.

“It almost did,” I say with a chill.

“My question for you, miss, is how are you going to walk with that ankle?” the Middling woman says.

“She’s not,” Zack says, coming to stand in front of me. “Hop on, Em.” Zack offers me his hand over his shoulder.

“Piggyback ride?” I ask in disbelief.

“Good idea,” Dean says. “Let’s go.”

Without a way to argue I hop onto Zack’s back, tying my hands around his neck. It’s been almost a decade since we’ve done this, but back in those days the circumstances were playful and not deadly.

***

Zack, for a Dream Traveler, is strong. As a race Vider discourages strenuous exercise. He’s always proclaimed that the gods preferred Middlings to have the muscles and Dream Travelers to have the brains. He used the gods to strengthen all of his notions. I seriously wonder if they really exist. Maybe there’s only one God or maybe there’s none. Or God is dead or maybe God hasn’t even been born yet. All I know as I scan the destruction around me is that if a God or gods exist then we need their help now.

Vider’s forces have been pushed back but that only means they’ll have a stronger hold around Government Center. I have no idea how we can fight that many soldiers again. I won’t dare leech Zack like I did before and storing power once more might scorch my already charred insides. Every breath reminds my lungs that recently fire lived in my body.

We cut over two streets, trying to make a haphazard path to the center of town. Several areas show the tell-tale signs of being abused by one of those bombs. I quickly avert my eyes from those areas, not wishing to see the singed flesh of a human again.

“This is silly,” I say to Zack when he starts to pant from the effort of carrying me. A layer of sweat now coats his back but I stay wrapped around him, clinging to him tighter every time I almost see something I’ll want to forget. Too many places are marked by a battle which ensued between a Middling or a Rebel and a soldier.

“What’s silly?” he says through measured breaths.

“You shouldn’t be carrying me. We’re too big a target. Too sluggish,” I say.

He nods. “Can you walk?”

I roll my ankle and a yelp of pain almost sprints from my mouth. Instead my eyes just bulge with instant alarm.

“No,” I say with a defeated sigh. The way my ankle remains unresponsive to my attempts to move it makes me certain it’s officially broken. I’d be angry at the Middling who dragged me through the streets if he wasn’t dead. And just the thought of him riddles my skin with a prickling guilt and also a hush of gratitude. I was seconds away from being shredded to bits with him. I squeeze my arms around Zack’s shoulders and nuzzle into him. “Thanks for saving my life back there.”

He claps a hand over my arms around his neck. “Don’t thank me,” he says, a cold edge in his voice. “I only ever save you because I can’t live without you. My reasons are purely selfish.”

I hike myself up on his back and lean into his ear. “Is that why you’ve been rescuing me all my life?”

“Bingo,” he says, careful as he rounds a corner. An explosion just detonated a block over.

I tighten my arms around his neck. “Now what am I going to do with a broken ankle? Am I going to hop into Vider’s office and throw down my wrath?” I say, feeling helpless as we clear another block. “It feels all wrong.”

“It’s fine, Em,” Zack says, readjusting me on his back. “Just a little farther now.”

And he’s right. We’re a block off the main square. Various Middlings and Rebels dart through the streets ahead of us, making me confident that no bombs lie waiting. And then the assaulting sound of gunshots clears my head of any reason. In front of us a Middling drops. Then a Rebel. They were halfway down the block when bullets ripped through them. Zack and our group freeze. I lean in close to Zack, realizing how vulnerable we are. How deadly our mission is. And my own voice in my head grabs my attention. Owns it. I don’t want to die. Please no. Not yet. Let me free Nona. Please.
I don’t want to die. The voice screams and I’m the only one who hears it repeating itself over and over.

Dean turns and looks at us with a sturdy gaze. “So, not that way,” he says, redirecting us down another side street.

“Each path to Government Center is going to be heavily guarded,” I say.

“Especially the one in front of the main entrance,” Zack says. “But what if we sneak in through the basement?”

“There’s a basement?” I say.

“It’s where the cleaning crew enters,” the Middling woman says. “There’s less of a chance of being spotted than if we try and sneak through the open lobby. It’s my vote.”

“But it’s on the opposite side of the bank of elevators,” Zack says.

“My vote is for the stairs anyway. Gives us options,” Dean says.

“And Zack, you’re going to carry me up twenty flights of stairs?” I ask with doubt.

“Or I will,” Dean says with a determined look.

“Fine, let’s go that direction,” I say. We backtrack until we enter a narrow alleyway. From here I can see the large white building, surrounded by angry soldiers. I gulp, allowing real fear to finally enter my brain.

“Pssst…” I hear at my back.

There’s so many noises going off around us that it’s strange that this tiny one echoes over the rest. Beating footsteps. Property being assaulted. Screams. They’re the cacophony of what should possess my attention.

“Pssst…” I hear again. I turn a little in the direction of the sound and Zack makes note of my action at once, wheeling us both around. There huddled in a similarly cramped alleyway across the street, is a group of Rebels. Most of them have bright fierce eyes but one girl looks dreamy, like she’s off in a daze during this battle.

“Will you please take me to them?” I ask, instinctively drawn to the little gang of kids. Zack checks to ensure the street is clear before rushing across the open space.

He pauses in front of the inquisitive girl. Her cheeks are dirty, but her eyes are clear. From my place on Zack’s back I look down at her, but she’s the first to speak. “Are you hurt?” the dazed girl asks, her voice airy and hoarse like that of an old gypsy fortune teller.

“Yes,” I say. “I broke my ankle.”

The girl of around fifteen smiles, looking pleased by my bad fortune. Her teeth are small, her gums wide. She rubs her hands together, pulls up my jeans, and sticks her freezing cold palms on my ankle. I make to jerk my leg back when a refreshing warmth radiates from her hands and through my once throbbing ankle. It isn’t throbbing anymore. A calm serenity suddenly slithers through my body starting at my ankle. The girl’s eyes close and then her head falls forward, her stringy brown hair falling over her face. I’m just about to reach out for her when a deep gargling laugh spills out of her mouth. She draws her face up and seems to look through me.

“What are you laughing at?” Zack asks.

“Because all my life I thought I was a Defect, a mistake,” the girl says. “And now I’ve just healed the person who set me straight. I almost committed suicide the day I was supposed to be converted. But I’m too much of a coward. And then you, Em, told me the truth, gave me a choice, and I’ve never felt more like living. I love how life comes around, intertwines us all.”

I nudge Zack and he lets me slide to the ground. My ankle is firm under my weight. More importantly my lungs feel brand new, my heart no longer palpitating.

“Thank you,” I say to the willowy girl who stands before me.

She bows a bit dramatically. “Now that my job is done I think my friends want to do a job for you.”

She steps to the side and the four bright-eyed kids I saw before stand tall behind her.

“What job do you want to do for me?” I ask, my eyes making contact with each of their faces.

A boy with wiry hair steps forward. “From reading your thoughts, I think you need a diversion,” he says. “We think we can help.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“They’re brilliant little masterminds,” Zack says as we dart between buildings.

“They’re Rebels,” I say, like that explains everything. “How much longer until we’re across from the basement entrance?”

“Not far,” he says, moving on his own in front of me.

“Good, the timing should be perfect,” I say, flipping my head over my shoulder to catch the five kids scaling the back of the sundry shop. They’re using the drainage pipes and the side of a chimney. At least if one of them falls the healer can help them, I think to myself, worried for their safety. Zack and the Middling woman navigate us down another alleyway and toward Government Center. We come to a stop a few yards from where the alleyway ends. We’re across the street from the large white building. We huddle behind a pile of boxes and crates. I squat down low and survey the scene around the main square.

“You were right,” I say to Zack, “the security is light on this side.” Only half a dozen soldiers stand in various areas in the grassy lawn that stretches between the road and back entrance.

“Do you think you have enough stored power?” Zack says, looking back at me, a rebellious look now covering every aspect of his features.

“It’s hard to tell.” I leeched the abilities out of the telepathic boy to build up my reserves. With my body healed I should be able to afford to store and unleash power.

In the main square, two blocks over, I expect to hear mayhem at any second. I expect to hear soldiers screaming. I expect to see the ones in front of us running to help their comrades. I don’t. Instead the overwhelming sound of an engine batters my ears. It’s the loudest noise I would have ever heard before the bomb today. I stand from my squatted position and my confused eyes find Zack’s. His arm hugs around my shoulder, his body pressing me into him with worried tension.

“What is that?” I mouth.

And then we both turn our heads to the trees and bushes and soldiers being swept in a giant wind. It’s radiating from the main square. Did one of the Rebels creating the diversion have the gift to control the wind? We didn’t have a chance to discuss their gifts. They just said that from high up on the roof three of them would create a major diversion using their gifts. But the wind that whips across my face and tangles my hair is too big to be produced by a person. The wind grows in intensity along with a strange beating sound. Unable to stop my curiosity and wanting to be forewarned to the attack I peek my head out. Dean and Zack follow suit.

“What is that?” Zack says, looking as dumbfounded as I feel. A strange pod-like thing with sleigh-like feet and a propeller on top is flying in the air, about to land. Inside it are men. A dozen or more uniformed men. And behind them is another strange flying thing.

More soldiers. Oh shit.

“That…” Dean says, pointing at the machine hovering in the sky, “…is something I haven’t seen in a long time, since Austin Valley appears to be a no-fly zone.”

I suddenly remember that Dean had lived outside this Valley for twenty years. He knows a lot about things Zack and I are ignorant of. “What is it?” I say, panic rising in my voice.

“That is a helicopter,” Dean says. “And it’s also the perfect diversion.” He points out and I follow his hand. All the soldiers flanking the back entrance are gone. They’ve hunched over and are running toward their buddies in the helicopter.

“Let’s move,” I say.

We duck from the wind produced by the angry helicopters and sprint for the door. I’ve never been so happy to enter this building, which houses the laws that have scarred this town I love.

***

The stairs to the building’s back entrance lead down into a dark hallway. The Middling woman promptly explains it’s where the custodial crew keep supplies and have breaks and wash various things.

Right, because allowing Middlings to work on a windowed floor would give them ambitious thoughts probably. Can’t have that.

She stops by a set of metal doors. “You can take the stairs,” she says, “but I think the service elevator is a whole lot safer.” She slams her hand over a button to the right of what I realize now are elevator doors.

“Elevators are traps,” Dean says. He and the woman are the only Middlings who accompanied us the rest of the way. We thought it would be safer to move in a smaller group. And I can defend myself now, unlike after my siege on the army.

“Stairwells are traps too,” the woman says, holding her shoulders back and looking straight into Dean’s eyes. She has a spirit which I admire. This is a woman who has seen her fair share of pain and yet hasn’t let it color her practical nature.

“Oh, Patsy, why you have to be so stubborn?” Dean says, a hint of familiarity springing to his tone.

“And why do you have to fail to listen to flawless logic?” she says, tying her arms across her strong chest.

Dean gives her an endearing smile.

“Wait,” I say, my brain piecing everything together. “You’re Patsy? You’re Dean’s wife, aren’t you?”

The woman turns her gaze on me. Nods.

“Why didn’t you say so?” I say to Dean.

“I didn’t want him to,” she answers for him. “I thought that if you knew we were both with you, escorting you to Government Center, that you’d make one of us stay behind.”

“You’re right,” I say, suddenly angry. “You have three kids.”

“And the most dangerous mission is getting you into Government Center. I get that,” Patsy says. “But this is something I can’t miss. After I learned what they did to our baby, stole her life from us, I need to be on this mission. If the President goes down then I want to be here to see it. I want to see the look on that egotistical son of a bitch face when his world is ripped away.”

I consent with a nod. “Well, let’s do this. We can’t waste any more time.”

I step onto the elevator and press the button for the twentieth floor.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The doors of the elevator bounce open when we arrive on the twentieth floor. I brace myself for the attack. The rush of soldiers. The gunfire. Zack and I are flush against one wall, huddled in the corner next to the elevator buttons. Dean and Patsy are doing the same on the other side. We stay hidden and wait for what we all suspect will be a swift attack upon arrival.

Nothing happens. No one invades our elevator with guns. I fear they’re trying to draw us out, away from the metal compartment protecting us now. The doors are just about to close when I make the decision and tuck my hand out to stop them. Then I dare to peek my head out and around the side.

Instantly, a rush of gratitude washes over me. I’m grateful we took the service elevator instead of the main ones. They’ve delivered us to a back hallway, which in all my years visiting this building I never walked through. Even better is that these elevators don’t make the loud “ding” sound when they arrive. The cleaning crew is supposed to be silent and invisible.

“Come on,” I mouth to the group, waving them out of the elevator. The hallway in front of us is unlit, but the corner up ahead has sconces ablaze with warm yellow light. Why light the hallways the Middlings use?

Up until this point we’ve had a plan. We meticulously crafted the strategy for confronting the army, for moving through Austin Valley, and even for getting into Government Center. Maybe we didn’t think we’d make it this far, but for whatever reason we didn’t strategize for what we’d do once we got here. My father always said that those who don’t have the foresight to think through a whole plan will never reach their goals. Most of his adages are wrong. I’m hoping this one is too.

With a vibrating chest I turn the corner. My vision tunnels with anxiety, but I recognize where we are now. The end of this hallway leads to the main foyer of the Presidential wing. I take the lead since I can more easily defend the group with the power I have stored. It’s isn’t much, but that’s a good thing, because it’s also not boiling my insides.

A cursory glance around the corner informs me that two armed guards flank the President’s office. More could be stationed by the elevator at the far end of the hallway. And a quick sweep of the Dream Traveler energies in the area gives me even more information. I sense Zack’s energy, which I know intimately. And I also feel Vider’s energy, so I know he in fact is here. But what I didn’t suspect is that there’s another energy. It’s so familiar, but also not. The harder I try to pinpoint whose it is, the more confused I am by this mystery energy. This leads me to only one assumption. My father must also be here. I gulp, knowing soon I will have to confront the man who scarred me emotionally and whom I scarred physically.

I turn to Zack and hold up two fingers. He nods, knowing I’m referring to the number of guards. Then I step out from my hiding spot and whip my hands in front of me. The guards turn in my direction, hold up their weapons, and as one of them releases a bullet I shoot electricity out of both of my hands. Both bolts connect with their target, just as the bullet connects with the wall behind me. It grazed my arm, ripping through the fabric of my jacket and searing the flesh of my bicep. My hand slaps over the wound immediately, but I keep the scream of pain tucked in my mouth. Zack darts out from his place behind the wall.

“Are you all right?” he asks, pulling my hand off my arm.

I pivot and point at the bullet hole in the wall behind me. “It missed me. Just grazed.”

He’s inspecting my wound when Dean urges him to the side. “Excuse me, sir,” Dean says, all politeness in his voice. And he takes a bandana and ties it around my arm. “That should take the bite out of that injury.”

“Thanks, Dean,” I say, focusing my attention around him. “I think we better get moving. Those two may not be out long.” I indicate the sprawled out soldiers. “Patsy, would you please grab their guns and hide them?” Guns aren’t going to help us and everyone on the team has agreed that disposing of them is the best option.

I’m relieved to see no other soldiers darting from the elevator bank. Maybe those were the only two on this floor.

We’re halfway to the fallen soldiers when on the opposite side of the hallway the silver elevator, much larger than the service ones we used, dings loudly. Dean and Patsy protectively take the spot in front of me. And Zack stands at my side. The doors slide back to reveal a short bald man surrounded by soldiers. It takes my mind a second to register the man’s face. It’s familiar and yet out of place. And then the sight of the soldiers around him in green uniforms, not tan, makes it all click in my mind. I press around Dean and race down the hall. Smith meets me at the entrance of Vider’s office.

“You’re here,” I say, excitement smothering my words. John must have gotten ahold of the right amount of evidence and sent it to Smith.

“Is this your doing?” he says, toeing one of the passed out soldier’s body.

“Yes, but they aren’t dead,” I say in a defensive rush.

“Well, you’ve saved me the job of disarming them, so thank you,” he says but there’s no gratitude in his voice. I eye the soldiers behind him. Their uniforms match the ones of the men in the helicopter.

“These are your soldiers?” I ask.

“Yes. They are U.S. military,” he says.

“So those were your helicopters?”

Smith gives me an irritated look, but doesn’t answer. “Is Victor in there?”

Again, I sweep the energy of the Dream Travelers in the area and confirm there’s two, Vider’s and the mysterious one, although that one feels farther away now. Vider is definitely in his office.

“Yes,” I say, “but I think my father, Damien Fuller, is on this floor.”

“You think?” he says, looking annoyed.

“One of my gifts is that I sense the energy of Dream Travelers around me.”

He eyes me skeptically. “Very well, I have orders pertaining to both Victor and Damien.”

My father will be arrested… Now that it’s happening I can’t believe it.

“Can I leave you to secure the capture of Victor?” Smith says. “I fear that if I go in there then…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence and he doesn’t need to. I see the fear in his eyes although he’s working to hide it. Smith has seen the aftermath of Vider’s brainwashing on his colleagues and politicians. I’m sure he fears if he goes in there then he will forget why he is here and take his army away without a single question. And he very well might.

“Yes. As we planned and discussed, I have this under control. I’ll take Vider into custody, if you’ll take my father,” I say, feeling confident that I can do what needs to be done. “Be careful when you find my father. His gift is telepathy and he’ll use it to make you irrational. Turn you against your men or even make you doubt your own sanity.”

Smith gives a false smile. “What a childhood you must have had.” He turns at once and the soldiers part, making a path for him. He stalks in the opposite direction. I swivel to face the door, building the confidence I need to confront Vider. I need to take immediate control. I need to do everything necessary to intimidate Vider. I need to make him tell me where Nona is.

A warm hand lands on my shoulder. “We can do this,” Zack says. And then I remember I’m not alone. This time I have help. Zack reaches out and turns the handle, pushing back the door.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Clapping. To my shock Vider is clapping when we enter his office. Firm hands slap together, creating the strangest applause I’ve ever heard. He stands in front of his elaborately carved mahogany desk. He’s wearing the same gray wool suit as earlier. It’s hard to believe that just this morning he had me hostage. And through the window, over his shoulder, I catch evening light kissing the eastern ridge. The same ridge I marched down a couple hours ago.

Vider perches on the edge of his desk as casually as if he’s waiting for his to-go order at a deli. He stops clapping and regards me with a relaxed grin. It reminds me too much of Rogue.

“Well, congratulations. It appears you’ve almost won this,” he says with a cool calm.

“I have won this,” I say, not appreciating his mocking tone.

His eyes stay pinned on me as he says. “And Mr. Conerly. I see, like Ren, you’re a traitor. Too bad I didn’t learn that earlier. You two could be suffocating in the same dank prison together.”

Zack stays quiet by my side. He knows better than to be goaded.

Vider begins rolling his wrist around, his fingers gracefully rotating as he does. I step up close to him, invading his space the way he always has done with me. “Where. Is. Nona?”

He leans in closers to me and growls, giving me a wolfish grin. “You’ve finally come to your senses, have you? Decided you can’t resist me?” He licks his lips, which are too close to my face.

I shiver with disgust. “You’re sick and delusional,” I say, stepping back. Of course Vider will use my attempts at intimidation to get under my skin and creep me out. “You’re done. You’ve lost your rule over the people you think you own and you will be punished. Now tell me where Nona is,” I say.

“No,” he chirps, sounding too amused. His wrist is still rolling around like he strained it and is trying to work out the kinks.

“Tell me where she is now!” I scream so loud it hurts my ears. I’ve lost it. My mind is storming with fear. Panic rains all over my being. Thunders through my chest.

Unflustered, Vider bats his eyes at me like a young girl would. “You know I had Ren captured and tortured. It was tricky since his ability to use mind control is so strong. Ren had been waiting for you at the labs. I had to have him knocked out before he realized what was happening. Then once sufficiently beaten, I found he wasn’t so successful with using his gifts and was ready for interrogation,” he says, his voice too light, like we’re discussing the weather. “You see, I needed to know exactly what he did in this Valley. He put up a brave resistance but even the most courageous love their fingers too much to not divulge their secrets.”

I grimace. Almost clench my eyes shut with disgust.

“That’s when I learned that that despicable Brit spent valuable time educating you. That’s how you knew to take down my newspaper and billboards. You’d learned about my subliminal messaging. Ren told me everything he taught you. And to his credit he knows a lot about me.” Vider is still rolling his wrist but the movement has gotten faster; it’s almost distracting. Almost. My eyes stay pinned on the murderer in front of me. “And since I know what you know, I do have to doubt why you came all this way only to make a deadly mistake.”

My eyes narrow on him. “Stop with your manipulation,” I say with a tired sigh. “Just tell me where Nona is and I’ll make the next steps easier on you. I might not even electrocute you.” It’s then that I remember my reserves are empty and so I begin to leech Vider. Immediately everything in the room comes into crisp focus. I smell too many competing odors. I spy the fleck of pepper on Vider’s desk left over from the roast beef sandwich he had hours ago. I hear Zack’s heart racing beside me. And an orchestra of cracking sounds radiates from Vider’s wrist as the joints grind together.

“Ren told you how my mind control works,” Vider continues. “He told you it was stronger on Middlings and especially stronger on a one-on-one basis and you foolishly chose to bring two with you.”

Everything he says computes in my head until I realize exactly what I’ve done wrong.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Vider’s wrist stops rotating. He sneers. His eyes flick to the people who stand behind me. I turn and just catch the vacant looks in both Dean’s and Patsy’s eyes as Vider yells, “Grab them! Kill them!”

Patsy clutches my injured arm, her fingers pressing in to the wound. She whips me around and I’m powerless against her force. She’s so much stronger and larger than me. Her arm hooks around my neck and she tugs me back into her. And then her arm clenches down on my esophagus and I can’t breathe. At all.

Beside me someone grunts several times. I struggle and crane my neck so hard that I think the muscles will snap. Just around Patsy’s arm I barely spy Zack pinned in the same way as me. Dean’s bicep is flexed around his neck, and Zack’s face is pinched red. He’s attempting to struggle, but like me his captor just tightens his hold with each of his attempts at freedom. I’m scrambling with my hands to resist, to fight, but the loss of oxygen is making it impossible to think. And every attempt to use the tiny bit of electricity I have stored is met with defeat. My powers aren’t working. All my body’s focus is centered on trying and failing to breathe.

“I wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you,” Vider says, glee in his voice. “It hasn’t. But I will say I’m enjoying watching you die.” He laces his fingers together and drapes them in his lap. “Kill them quickly,” Vider says. “I have things to do.”

Patsy’s grip around my neck tightens even more. I gasp for breath but it’s useless. I make to scream and only a hoarse grunt spills out of my cold lips. The world in front of me turns into black spots and hazy images. The taste of copper laces my mouth. Every attempt to leech or unleash is a failure. I’m being murdered by a Middling I freed. And the only thing that makes that worse is the sounds of Zack snorting and grunting beside me. He’s attempting to breathe. To resist. But I know if my gift is unavailable in such a weak state, then so is Zack’s and therefore any chance of our survival. My best friend and I are going to die side-by-side. And it isn’t beautiful or poetic. It’s heartbreaking. I didn’t think I could feel any more pain than I did as I suffocate but the searing in my chest captures an ounce of my attention as I die.

My eyes flutter shut. My head swims in a cloud. I slip into unconsciousness and then fight against it. With the last of my reserves I open my eyes to catch a victorious smile on Vider’s face. And then, it shifts suddenly. His features drop with astonishment. A shattering sound changes the scene completely. Flecks of something sharp spray against my face. Patsy’s hold for the first time since she grabbed me lightens. She turns slightly and it’s enough to grant me an inch of precious space. I drop to my knees and she loses me from her grip.

“Get her!” Vider orders. “Get ahold of her again.”

I’m gasping for life-saving oxygen as Patsy scrambles to get me back in her claws. Taking a giant breath, I wheel around and simultaneously whip my hand in the air and then fire my reserves at her. The electricity wraps around her body, making her vibrate, and then she falls to the ground. I spin around to find Zack on all fours, wheezing for breath. The scene around him is what takes several seconds to compute. Standing between Vider and Zack is John Conerly; he’s holding himself in a protective stance and regarding Vider with murderous eyes. And behind Zack, Dean is laid out in a similarly passed out position as his wife. His head is covered in blood and it’s dripping down his face. Around him are broken shards of the vase that stood on the pedestal outside this office. Zack is breathing and that’s my first concern. My second is to fill my reserves. I leech in Vider’s gift at once. To my astonishment he’s still sitting on the edge of his desk but now he’s wearing a sinister sneer.

“Who knew it would be the nobody John Conerly who screwed up this well-formed plan,” Vider says.

“You tried to kill my son,” John says, not daring to take his eyes off Vider.

“Yes, haven’t you heard, I’m a bad, bad man. Just ask Em. She likes educating people about me,” Vider says, his voice unaffected.

“Mr. Conerly, will you please help Zack?” I say. “Vider is my problem.”

John nods. His lips press together and his eyes regard the president with crazed fury.

I pull the handcuffs Vider made me wear earlier out of my jacket pocket and toss them at him. Since I aimed them at his face he has no choice but to grab them. “Put those on,” I say, knowing I have to stop him from being able to move and hypnotize anyone else.

“No, sweet Em,” he says, and for the first time ever he sounds demoralized. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Then I’ll electrocute you and when you awake you’ll find it has happened,” I say.

Vider’s almond-shaped green eyes are seeking to burn a hole through me. He stays frozen. Uncompliant.

I point my finger just to the right of Vider’s head and unleash a tiny spark which zips by his black hair, almost singeing it. He startles to the left, finally standing from his perch.

“I’ve already electrocuted you once. Remember how it knocked you down flat at the labs?” I say, my mind flashing with the memory of shocking my father and Vider many months ago. I angle my head at Patsy, passed out. “I promise you I have enough power stored in me to do that to you.”

Vider continues his staring contest. His silence tells me more than his words could. He knows he’s out of options, but like anyone who has just lost everything, he’s in denial.

“Put on the handcuffs,” I say, raising my hand and pointing it at him. “Last chance.”

Vider doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t take his eyes off me. Robotically he snaps the first cuff on his wrist and tightens it and then the other. I dare to step up close and as I suspected the cuffs are not at all tight enough. Wanting to be away from him as quickly as possible I clasp both cuffs and tighten them until they are too snug on his wrist. Then I grab the red handkerchief from his breast pocket and step back at once. I almost enjoy the look of confusion that blankets Vider’s face.

To my relief Zack is standing, looking to almost have recovered from the attack. “Mr. Conerly,” I say addressing his father, “will you please go and retrieve the man you sent evidence to? He’s here on this floor.”

Again another look of confusion on Vider’s face. It makes him look like a wolf separated from his pack. “So now you have me, the question is what are you going to do with me?” he says, his tone patronizing. “We have no court system since I’m the judge and jury in this city. We have no jail since I secretly euthanize those who disobey. Your biggest obstacle now is that you have me and no way to deal with me. Because you know as well as I do that if you leave me alone with any Middlings then within minutes I’ll convince them to let me go. So it seems you have no choice but to kill me.”

“Nice try,” I say, “but I’m no murderer.” Still leeching Vider, I hear Smith and his soldiers hurrying down the hallway. “I’m not going to do anything with you. I want you as far away from this Valley and the people you’ve harmed as possible.” I turn on cue and Smith steps into the doorway, his posture confident. Four soldiers storm in behind him, fanning out in the office and pointing guns at Vider. “Please meet FBI agent Smith,” I say, waving my hand at the bald man wearing a heated expression.

“Is this safe?” Smith says, careful to keep his eyes averted from Vider’s.

“He’s handcuffed, but we will keep it brief and then turn him over to a Dream Traveler he can’t manipulate,” I say.

Smith nods. “Victor Vider, you are hereby under arrest by the U.S. government for murder, treason, conspiracies against the U.S. government, and thirty-three other felonies. You have the right to remain silent—”

A howling laugh explodes from Vider. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Em. You’re having me arrested?” Another long, loud, irritating laugh. “You think a Middling prison can hold me?”

“You’re right. Smith?” I say, my eyes focused on Vider. “I’d like to make a request to ensure this man doesn’t slip through your hands and escape imprisonment. But it’s pretty unorthodox.”

“This is an unorthodox case,” Smith says behind me. “I’ve been granted full rights to handle this situation to secure the peace and freedom of these people, as well as Americans. What is it?”

“Before you take Mr. Vider with you, he’s going to need to be converted,” I say.

“No!” Vider screams, his voice scratchy and deep. “You can’t do that to me!”

“The thing is,” Smith says, his voice sounding vengeful, “we can. The President—the real President—has given me clearance to do anything necessary to ensure you stay out of his head. I think Em is right and conversion is the only solution.”

“And yours will be an aggressive conversion,” I say, using his words from earlier. “I don’t want to take chances with you.”

Vider is fuming, his nostrils flaring. His heart racing.

“Now, do you want to save a fraction of your soul and tell me where my sister and uncle are?” I say, my words full of venom.

“Ask your father,” Vider says, his eyes slicing through me like a dagger. “He’s the one who locked them up and threw away the key.”

My own father. That disgusting demon of a man.
How could he? I turn and face Smith. “Did you find my father?”

“No,” he says, his tone clipped.

And then I notice John standing beside Zack and I realize he’s the other energy I felt. He must have been hiding after sending the evidence to Smith.

“Smith, you can hold your forces back.” I turn, take two steps in John’s direction, and hold out the handkerchief to him. “Would you please gag Vider and take him to the conversion lab? I don’t want to chance him being taken by Middlings he can manipulate, and I think you’re sufficiently motivated against him that he won’t be able to brainwash you?”

John takes the red handkerchief from me as he nods. “Absolutely. And I’ll see that he’s converted right away.”

“Thank you,” I say and then turn to face Vider. “You can thank the gods that your punishment is so merciful.”

I turn and march out of the office, Zack at my side. As I pass Smith I say, “After he’s converted he’ll be harmless and then he’s all yours.”

“Where are you going?” Smith says.

I answer Smith as I continue to jog down the hallway, not daring to lose a second by turning around or stopping. “I’ve got to find my sister,” I say. “I’m going to confront my father.”

Zack presses the button to the elevator as Smith hurries in our direction. “Then I’m assigning Sergeant Miller and his men to go along with you. Your father now belongs to me as well.”

A tall man with cropped brown hair steps forward, four men at his back.

I nod in agreement. “Come on, let’s go,” I say as we crowd onto the elevator.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The streets of Austin Valley look completely different than they did an hour ago. Still chaos sparkles off every surface. Property all over is wrecked from being a bystander to a fight. Soldiers and Rebels and Middlings lay in various places, most receiving care. I catch Parker as he sprints by in the direction of a young girl who is cradling her arm. There is death and there is destruction, but there’s no more fighting. Actually, even the soldiers in tan uniforms are helping to move a gate that’s fallen on a Dream Traveler. There’s a warped sense of community. Over an hour ago these people were fighting each other. But now released from Vider’s spell and shaken to their senses by the U.S. military intervention, everything’s changed. Too many tan-uniformed soldiers look disoriented, like they just woke up from a weird dream—one where they were forced to fight in a war they didn’t fully comprehend.

Zack and I move through the streets flanked by U.S. military soldiers. At the walk to the drive of my house I pause and address Sergeant Miller. He’s young, but has mature eyes. Is that what the military does to people? Is that what it’s like to live in the “real world”?

“I want to go in there alone with Zack,” I say to him, immediately receiving a look of disapproval from the young man. “I want a chance to talk to my father but I will bring him out.”

“Miss, as much as I’d like to believe you, I find it hard to think you’ll not help your own father escape. Blood is a strong thing to resist.”

“He may be my father, but I know better than anyone that he needs to be punished,” I say, my voice sounding outside my body somehow.

He gives me a measured glare. “All right,” he says with a heavy sigh. “You have ten minutes.”

Zack and I don’t say a word to each other as we walk down the path to my house. Just by glancing at him I sense a hundred thoughts spinning in his head, but we can’t discuss anything until this is over.

The house is silent when we enter, yet I know someone is home. I sense three Dream Travelers’ energies besides Zack’s. I tug on Zack’s sleeve and pull him down the hallway. He steps carefully behind me. The house is dark. Too dark. Too quiet. Maybe I should have allowed Sergeant Miller in here with us. We’re halfway through the long hallway on the eastern side of the house when a voice trespasses into my head.

Why didn’t Em have Sergeant Miller accompany us? I hear Zack think. We are both too depleted to fight Dee.

I whip around and face him. He freezes.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I whisper.

Zack gives me a questioning look.

“I can read your thoughts,” I say.

His face shifts as he comprehends.

“And I’m not too depleted so speak or think for yourself.”

He allows himself a small smile. “If you’re telepathic then it means…”

Both our heads turn and our eyes land on the door beside us. My father’s study.

Fear more encompassing than when I faced fifty soldiers overwhelms my being. The handle is cold under my fingertips. The door doesn’t make a noise when I push it open. My father stands, hands clasped behind his back. He’s looking out the open window which faces the grassy yard.

“Do you think either one of you are welcome in my home?” my father says, his voice an angry hush.

“I want to know—”

“I know what you want!” he roars, cutting me off.

Knowing he’s stolen my thoughts, I plunge straight into the speech I’ve rehearsed. “My sister, tell me where she is and what you’ve done with her,” I say, and I’m surprised by my tone. It carries confidence. It carries strength. One I’ve never had when talking to my father.

“You’re not afraid of me anymore,” my father says, his tone hostile.

“Father,” I say, a warning in my voice.

His shoulders are held back high. His mostly blond hair is slicked back and only looks a little less full than it did before I burned him, before scars made it impossible for it to grow in places.

You have ruined everything, he thinks in his head, the statement directed at me since he knows I’m leeching him, borrowing his telepathy.

“We,” I say, “have worked to bring justice to Austin Valley. The crimes you and Vider have committed will not go on any longer. Hate me for everything I’ve done to stop you but don’t punish Nona for it.”

He spins around and slams both of his palms on his desk, levels his gaze at me. I work to keep my eyes on his and not at the multiple places where waxy scars stretch across his face, neck, and head. “I hate you for the simple fact that you maimed my face,” he says, spit flecking out of his tight lips. “I wanted to kill you for daring to organize a revolution, but I hate you for what you’ve done to me. Are you happy now that I look like a monster?” His palm slams down again. “Are you!?”

I don’t flinch. Instead I draw in a steadying breath and regard him for the unfortunate person he’s become. “I don’t take pleasure in others’ misfortunes. You taught me to, but I don’t think like you taught me anymore.”

“No, I know exactly how you think,” he says, the disappointment evident in his tone. “And before you get too comfortable exploring my thoughts I think you should know I’ve learned how to stop you from leeching me. So get out.”

And just like that the little data stream of thoughts I was hearing from Zack and my father halts. Knowing I need to protect myself, I shut my father out of my mind immediately, just the way Tutu taught me.

My father’s bloodshot eyes dart to Zack beside me. “And you. You’re quite masterful at closing your thoughts to me, which is why I never suspected you as a traitor.” Then he raises his eyes until he’s staring at the ceiling. “Dee!!!!” My father screams so loudly it hurts my head and makes his face turn red like it’s about to burst.

“Don’t do this, Damien,” Zack says, his voice steady. “We don’t want trouble. We only want to know what you’ve done with Nona and Ren.”

My father pushes off the desk, a devilish smile haunting under his scarred mouth. “You walk into my house, after bringing a war to this Valley, and think there won’t be trouble.” A curdled laugh echoes around his study. “The things President Vider and I will have to do to get control of this Valley will be monumental. And you dare to tell me you don’t want trouble?!” he screams, the blue vein in his neck bulging.

He doesn’t know… I’m not sure why I thought he would. Maybe I assumed my mother would see it in a clairvoyant vision. But he doesn’t know that he’s already lost this. It’s too late for him.

“Father,” I say, “you should know—”

“Dee!” he roars for a second time.

“Father,” I begin again, “Vider is—”

Running footsteps steal my attention. Instinctively I pull Zack out of the path of the doorway and behind me. He lays a steadying hand on my shoulder just as Dee runs into the room, freezing at the sight of us. Her red hair hangs loose, falling over her long white forehead. She pushes it back with an indignant look at us. Then as dutiful as ever she turns her attention to our father. “You called?”

A satisfied grin lights up his eyes, and although one of them is partially obscured by scar tissue I spy the glint in it. “Yes, oh, and how wonderful that your mother will be here to witness this lovely turn of events,” he says as my mother steps into the room, giving us a similar welcoming as Dee. Her pinched nose looks down at me.

“How dare you…” she says, taking a step in my direction.

“That was my reaction as well, Lyza,” my father says behind his desk. “Em, a wanted criminal, has as we suspected given herself up to rescue Nona. Great plan, Lyza.” He turns his blue eyes on me. “We knew you couldn’t resist being a martyr.”

“You took Nona to lure me out?” I ask in disbelief.

“No, we took Nona and Ren so they could be punished. Traitors deserve to be punished,” my mother says in her perfect diction.

“She’s your daughter!” I yell and feel Zack’s fingers tighten on my shoulder. He knows my mother is trying to provoke me.

“Haven’t you learned by now that blood does not grant you lenience in this Valley?” she says, her hair slicked back in a bun, exaggerating her stiff appearance. “We abide by what is right and do not show favor to those who disobey no matter who they are. We demand all to be loyal.”

“And speaking of blood and loyalty,” my father says, looking too pleased. “Dee, I’m extremely grateful that you didn’t marry Zack since he now appears to be a traitor.”

Dee’s face scrunches with disgust. “You pretended. You pretended, all so you could what? What was your motive?”

“To gain favor in Government Center,” he says plainly, not intimidated by the fiery glare Dee’s shooting at him.

“Father,” she says, glaring at Zack, “do I have your permission to burn him alive?” I move to further block Zack from my diabolical and lethal sister.

“No, you do not,” my father says flatly. “Zack and Em will be doing what I say if they want Nona released. And the punishment I have in mind will be much worse than what Em did to me.”

How long has it been?
Will Sergeant Miller storm in soon? I need to get Nona’s location now but to do that I’m going to have to flip these tables, since my father is currently under the faulty impression he’s winning this.

“Oh, Father,” Dee complains with a pout. “That isn’t fair. He humiliated me all for power. I should be able to…” And her voice trails away as I watch the wheels in her head spin. “If power was your motive, Zack, then why didn’t you go through with it? You lost your job for leaving me at the altar.”

“Because you’re a repulsive and horrible excuse for a human being,” I say, wanting to redirect Dee’s anger at me. “Zack couldn’t stomach the idea of being with you. Especially since he’s in love with me.”

Dee’s eyes bulge and she lunges for me with a clawed hand but it’s my mother who grabs her, stopping her progress. “You listen to your father, Dee,” my mother admonishes. “He said he had plans for these two traitors to the gods. You trust him.”

Deliberately, tethering her anger, Dee turns and faces us. “I’m going to ignore what you said, Em, since you’re obviously speaking from a place of supreme jealousy.”

“How humble of you.” I smile and seeing an opportunity I say, “And exactly why would I be jealous of you?”

“Because I’m a prominent member of this society. I’m powerful. And Father favors me,” my obnoxious sister spouts.

Unable to resist and knowing this is the perfect way to create the chaos I need to earn Nona’s location, I point at my father. “Do you mean this man here?” I say.

“Of course I do,” Dee says, looking at me like I’m dumb.

“Well, that man there isn’t your father,” I say plainly.

A screech like that of a hurt raven rips out of my mother’s mouth. “Em,” she screeches, “you shut your mouth!”

I tilt my head to the side. “What, this isn’t a good time for confessions? Because as long as I don’t know where Nona is the more confessions of yours I think I’ll share, Mother.” I say her name like it carries an enormous repugnance.

“Em,” my father says, his voice sounding impatient. “These antics won’t work. Your lies—”

“Oh, you didn’t know that Dee is Vider’s child?” I say casually. “Because he knows. We’ve discussed it. I thought you might too.”

My father narrows his eyes at me. “Lyza would never betray me like that.”

“Oh, but she did,” I say. “Didn’t you, Mother?”

With fists balled by her side my mother shakes her head, a look of horror on her pale face. All color has drained from Dee. She looks as flat as a wall.

“Father,” I say, staring straight at my mother, “ever wonder how Dee is as tall as you? Or why she has almond-shaped eyes? Or has Vider’s high cheekbones? Or has the thought crossed your mind that she doesn’t look an ounce like you at all?” I throw a seething, heart-stopping glare at my cold-hearted mother. The one who has done something with my sister Nona. “And if all that’s not convincing enough, just get in Mother’s head and search.”

My father’s face even under the scars shows signs of doubt. His eyes are studying Dee, who is looking back and forth between our mother and my father. Without taking his focus off of her Father says, “Lyza, tell me that Em is spouting lies.”

My mother’s lip trembles. “Em is lying,” she manages, but it carries none of the weight of her usual voice. It reeks of treachery and deceit and from my father’s flared eyes he spies it.

My father’s gaze darts to my mother and surprised horror writes a new story on his face. “What was that?”

“W-w-w-hat?” my mother says.

“Your thoughts! You’re lying,” my father convicts.

Horror like I’ve never seen before rips through Dee’s eyes.

“Damien,” my mother says through a light sob. “I’m not. It’s just…”

“You are lying!” he says with astonished fury. “Lyza, how have you done this to me? All these years. I didn’t know. You betrayed me. Lied to me. Hid thoughts from me.”

My mother’s shaking hand rises to her cheek like she’s just been slapped. “Damien, I don’t like to keep things from you, but it was a mistake. It was only one night and I was confused.”

Dee’s face whips in my father’s direction, desperation making her eyes wide. “No!” she shrieks. “I’m your daughter, Father. This is all a mistake.”

With vengeful eyes my father shakes his head. “It isn’t. You aren’t my daughter,” and the words are hot coming out of his mouth.

A shrieking cry vibrates Dee’s chest. “N-n-n-no!” she says, erratically shaking her head.

I chance a look back at Zack. And sensing the question in my eyes he nods. I focus my attention on my mother. “Now I want you, Mother, to tell me where Nona is or I will make this even worse for you.”

Her scorned eyes slowly hover until they meet mine. “You!” she says with all the hate and disdain I know she feels for me. “You think you can threaten me to tell you what I know. Keep this up and I’ll lock the information away just so I can watch you be tortured by the fact that you failed to save your sister.”

I’m momentarily stalled as I look into the eyes of the woman I’ve known my entire life and still have never truly met.

“Em, what else do you know?” my father booms, his fury making the room feel on fire. My mother’s eyes bulge with alarm.

“Don’t, Em,” she warns. “Don’t spout anymore of your deceit.”

“Then tell me where Nona is!” I say in desperation.

“Father, give me permission to take her down,” Dee says, looking to have slightly bolstered herself with her wealth of hate for me.

“Don’t call me that,” my father says, his gaze on me. “Dee, you aren’t my daughter. You’re dead to me.”

Dee’s green, devastated eyes rotate to my father with such heartbreak. With a heartache I didn’t know she was capable of.

“Now, Em,” my father beckons. “Tell me your mother’s other secrets. Are you not my child too?”

I scoff at him. “Oh, look at me. I’m obviously yours. Unfortunately,” I add, allowing a little dull humor.

“Tell me then what you’re trying to blackmail your mother with,” he says.

“Mother?” I say and she’s half of her normal poise, shivering, slouched, defeated.

“I can’t, Em,” she says, giving me a weak look and then allowing her eyes to fall to the floor.

“Such a coward,” I say. “Would it kill you, or you, Dee, to stand up to Father?” I say, waving at him.

“Em, you’ve lost this game,” he says. “And you can’t tell me anything to make what I know any worse. I have two daughters who are mistakes, cursed by the gods, but nothing is worse than my own wife’s betrayal.”

“How about the fact that your wife is half Middling?” And to my surprise it’s Zack who reveals this detail. I turn back to see the look of animosity on his face. And I know at once that he’s going for revenge. It’s such a weird thing for him to do, but I also know he’s watched silently over the years as my father belittled me. Abused me. Treated me with disdain. Zack stood by quietly, not wanting to endanger his father’s position in my father’s office. Now he has nothing to risk, and nothing to lose.

“What?!” my father says, spinning to face my mother. First confusion and then rage takes residence on his face. He’s just read her thoughts and although she’s practiced at keeping him out she’s too emotionally charged to lock him out right now.

“No, Lyza! These lies,” he says, spitting out the word. “How long have I lived in this life of lies?”

“It sucks, doesn’t it, Father?” I say.

The front door slams shut and the room silences. Boots echo through the house.

I gather a new courage. Clear my throat. “It’s probably time I told you that there’s no winning this war or repairing the damage,” I say, my voice dull, but steady. “Vider has been taken and is being converted as we speak. And that,” I say, angling my head at the door, “is a U.S. military soldier who is going to ensure you share the same fate as your president.”

My father’s eyes stare at me unblinking.

“Tell me where Nona is, Father,” I plead. “Please?”

His chin lowers to his chest, then slowly like in a daze he opens the top drawer of his desk and removes a revolver. I suck in sudden breath and everything moves into hyperspeed. Everyone’s actions are immediately too fast. All events happen at once. Zack pushes me to the side, my mother lets out a blood-stopping scream, and my sister lurches forward. But it’s too late. I know instinctively that there’s no way to stop what happens next. In one movement, my father rockets the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger.

***

And never again will I sleep the same…

Never will I look through these eyes and see the world the way I used to…

One doesn’t watch their father’s brain explode out the other side of his head and exist without demons…

Even if he was an evil man…

The death of evil men still hurts people… Especially their daughters.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Zack and I barrel through the street, a crew of soldiers on our heels, but I’m the only one who knows the way.

“The old warehouse.” That’s all my mother had said, as I shook her. Straining not to strangle her to get Nona’s whereabouts out of her, I clenched her shoulders and over and over I shook her. She just kept staring in the direction of where my father’s fallen body was on the other side of the desk, like she expected him to stand and say it had all been a well-crafted illusion. That wasn’t going to happen. I knew that. But my delusional mother didn’t. I could see her slipping further between the recesses of sanity, into a world where only thoughts of grandeur happened. I feared she’d live there. Nevertheless, I shook the fragile woman. “Tell me where my sister is! You have nothing left to lose and everything to gain by helping me. Please.”

That’s when she whispered out the words which should have meant nothing to me. “The old warehouse.” Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through my blood, heightening the stores of my memories. Whatever the reason, when she said “the old warehouse” it triggered a long-ago memory. Like remembering a sleeping dream long forgotten, a memory I didn’t know was mine washed over me. It was connected to nothing and so far out of sorts from my other thoughts. But still, somehow it was etched into a cranny of my memory, now coated in dust and cobwebs. And the words “the old warehouse” brought the memory to the surface.

I had been around four years old when my mother took a detour after one of my ballet classes. I was anxious to return home and slip into real clothes, not leotards that pinched my skin. It was strange for us to deviate from our schedule. Stranger was her demeanor, covered in stress. Hurrying me through the back roads of town, my mother ignored my complaints about my aching feet. We’d walked far. Farther than we usually did during our daily routine. I had never been to this part of town. Later I would forget it existed. I remember the roads disappearing and only dirt-covered paths snaking through an overgrown field. My mother’s shiny flats were soon coated in dust, but she didn’t seem to notice.

When we were far on the southern side of town we finally arrived at a warehouse that was sunk into the ground. It was close to where the lumber yards were being built. My father was standing by the door, speaking to an unseen figure. His face did a double take when he saw us approaching. Extreme worry screamed on his features. He ran out to us and my mother made me stay back as they had a hurried conversation.

The unearthed memory doesn’t hold much of their conversation. But I do remember my father’s angry eyes revolving around my mother as he said, “You shouldn’t have brought her to the old warehouse.”

Again and again my father scolded my mother for bringing me there, but she had conviction in her voice when she made her whispered case to him. I only remember one other thing from that memory, from their bitter argument. Several times my child ears heard the name “Violet.”

The forgotten memory connects with new memories, links with information I’ve recently learned. And as I run on autopilot, leading a group of soldiers and Zack, I piece together more of this Valley’s brutal history. This is how Vider became privy to the espionage his wife Violet was doing to convict him. It must have been my parents. They found her out first. But Violet’s tortured soul always thought that she made the mistake that got her caught. But she didn’t. She was doomed all along.

“The old warehouse.” It’s the place Violet had been searching for. But she never would have found it. I’m certain of that. It was too removed from town, and camouflaged in the ground. Only a roof and a door. It’s where I believe Vider held the children he kidnapped. That rusty storm-shelter-type building from a memory I forgot was mine is where the testing was done to synthesize cerevitium. And more importantly, it’s where Ren and Nona are.

The southern side of town has little traffic. The mountain pass keeps the traffic on that end low. It’s a hard terrain to build on. And now I realize a perfect place to store an underground facility. For a whole mile I feel Zack on my heels, keeping pace with me. The yawning darkness reminds me that my time to rescue Nona and Ren is running low. I don’t know where in the “warehouse” they’re being held, but it’s been hinted that it’s small, enclosed, and lacks oxygen. I can only imagine the torture they’ve endured during these long eight hours.

My feet slow on the dirt path, now overgrown. It’s only when I spy the small roof and its rusty door that I pause completely. The roof and door stand in clear view, but the building obviously stretches deep underground, as it’s not visible from the surface. From here it looks like the building was sucked into the earth and only just survived by chance. But I know better. I know that something survives in that building that looks to be swallowed by quicksand.

I race to the door, my heart a bomb ready to explode from fear and adrenaline. Shaking fingers test the handle and I’m unsurprised to find the door is bolted shut.

“Stand back, miss.” Sergeant Miller says at my back.

Taking three steps back I watch as he raises his automatic weapon. I just think to cover my ears at the last possible second. The sergeant fires three times at the lock above the handle. The door springs open at once. In front of me there’s only darkness. Without a second thought I bound through the door and down the stairs I know will be there. A cold rail guides me through the blackness. I’m blind in the approaching space, yet I race forward and almost stumble when the stairs end abruptly. My legs were ready to descend and I have to correct their movement as I find I’m on even ground. Behind me a beam of light switches on with a loud click. It gives little detail to the room I’ve entered, but it does tell me I’m about to run into a counter. I wheel around. Sergeant Miller directs a flashlight at a wall of switches. He flips three of them before dim lights, powered by a generator, take away the building’s darkened mystery.

We’re standing in a white-tiled lab. It holds an uncanny resemblance to the labs in town.

“Spread out, men,” Sergeant Miller orders. “I want every area searched.”

Four doors. One on the right. One on the left. Two at the back. And if this lab is set up like the one in town then it’s a maze of rooms and closets and compartments. There are so many options. I take off down a doorway at the back, Zack beside me.

“Nona!” I scream, searching the sterile lab tables and corners and spaces. “Ren!” I scream again, rushing through the labs lit by dim emergency-type lighting. I don’t like the feel of these labs at all. Everything about them reeks of death and torture and wrongness. I almost expect Vider to bound out of a closet and grab me as I race farther through the network of rooms. A cold so deep, I feel like I’m submerged in icy water invades my body. Zack makes a muffled sound of confusion, which gains my attention. He pauses and blows out a deliberate breath through his mouth and it’s then that I understand his bewilderment. Mist wafts out of his mouth, like it does when the temperature drops below freezing.

“What?” I say, and condensed frozen mist springs from my mouth too. And then a sharp realization sticks me straight to the chest and needles my skin with trepidation. If Tutu was alive and with me, she’d show me what really exists here. Spirits. Dozens of spirits. I feel them even if I can’t see them. They’re circling me. These are the children Vider stole, tested on, and euthanized. Children. People aren’t meant for such things. They lost their lives here. And their confused, tortured souls remain. The dozens of ghost energies huddled around us is what makes the space frigid.

“What is it?” Zack asks, having read the comprehension on my face.

“Spirits,” I say, through a shiver.

“Oh,” Zack says, opening a closet door and scanning its contents. “Where do you think Nona and Ren could be?”

“I don’t know,” I say. Just like the labs where I received my injections for all those years, this building is convoluted. The rooms stretch on endlessly. They have no clear paths to follow. Finding anything here in a quick manner is useless.

I’m all out of ideas of how to locate them. All I can think about is Tutu and how if she was here, she’d have all the spirits at her disposal. She’d have them escort us right to them. I close my eyes, wishing she was here, and then quite suddenly something tugs on my hand. I whip open my eyes, sure that Zack is trying to get my attention, but he’s on the other side of the room.

There’s nothing in front of me, but then so clearly I hear, “Em…” The voice sounds like wind, a noise that is almost not there. I look around realizing, I didn’t hear that in this realm. And something is in front of me. From my constant shivers I know there are many things around me. The spirits of the children. And if I can allow them to, maybe they can lead me. I do feel their chill encircling me, shifting as I move. Why shouldn’t they be able to communicate with me in other ways?

“Where are they?” I ask, to the thin air in front on me.

Zack’s eyes pinch with frustration. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding half defeated.

“I’m not talking to you,” I say, knowing I sound crazy. “The spirits know where they are. They would have witnessed them being locked up in here.”

Comprehension dawns on Zack’s face, taking some of the edge away.

I close my eyes, outstretch my arms. “Show me where they are.” Moving forward, I open my eyes, trying to tune in to the sensations around me. My fingers reach into the darkness and not a few seconds later a nip, like teeth biting into my skin, pierces the right side of my hand. A pinch of cold. I turn in that direction and discover a dark hallway. It is partially hidden by a stack of containers, but the ghost somehow brought it to my attention. I push around the rolling cart and move forward, using touch and feel rather than my usually relied upon senses. It’s when I almost careen into a wall I didn’t see in the darkness that I feel another bite of cold on my outstretched hand. It makes me pause. This one was on the bottom of my left palm. I wheel around in that direction and to my astonishment I find an industrial freezer. Its closed door is large. Again a cold bite, but this time sharp and against the base of my neck.

“Here?” I ask the air. Once more the nip on my skin, but now on my back, like someone is trying to push me forward.

The temperature gauge to the right of the door says the freezer is turned off, but the lock says it’s engaged. I tuck my hand under the industrial handle and yank up. It’s rusty from disuse, yet it relinquishes to my attempts and with Zack’s help I pull the door free of the seal. From the dim light in the corridor, I barely spy two heads hanging low, their arms pinned up high, handcuffed above them on a metal shelf. I rush forward at once and realize that the oxygen in this compartment is almost at zero.

“Get oxygen,” I call over my shoulder to a soldier who I didn’t know was following me. Blanketed in her long locks of golden hair, Nona’s face is almost hidden. I cup both my hands to her cheeks and beg to the gods for her to hear me. Her eyes are closed, her breath nonexistent on my hands cradling her face. “Nona,” I say, “can you hear me? I’m here. Wake up. You’re safe.”

Sergeant Miller rushes over, sticking something into her cuffs which automatically releases her. I catch her in my arms at once and she’s too weak, too far gone to respond to my attempts to rouse her. I stroke the hair back from my sister’s face. Rock her in my arms. Please, Nona. Please. Don’t. Come back. Come back. Come back. Don’t leave me. And it’s a different soldier who rushes in and sticks a mask to her face. It’s similar to the one Parker gave me.

The soldiers, now crowding the small space, take her from me, almost push me to the side as they lay her flat on the concrete floor. I watch, completely helpless as men I don’t know pump my sister’s chest. Each second is too long. Each movement not hers. I stand frozen and watch as again and again they pump her chest. My little sister lies like a doll, all lifeless on the ground. And then to my unbounded relief Nona’s eyes spring open and she sucks in a sudden gasping breath. The man who saved her life moves back a little, making room for me as I fall to her side.

“Nona!” I scream with tears of relief. “You’re alive!” I say through a raw aching assault on my throat. Nona stares back at me with bewilderment. She looks at me with a strange dawning expression, then around the freezer, and finally to the stranger soldier. When her brave eyes return to mine she gives me a look of astonished gratitude that is enough to keep me content for all of my days.

“Get that bloody thing off me,” Ren says behind me. I turn to find a soldier standing over him, trying to administer oxygen, but Ren’s apparently not having any of that.

Turning back to Nona, I lean down and kiss her forehead as she takes greedy breaths of the oxygen. Zack is beside her now. His eyes catch mine and he nods, seemingly reading my thoughts. He seems to understand that I want him to stay with her. I stand and take three steps and squat down next to Ren, who’s regarding the oxygen tank like a nuisance.

He pulls the mask off and throws the whole thing to the side. “I told you never to save me.”

“Sue me,” I say.

“I might,” he says in a raspy voice.

“How do you feel?” I say, noticing the blood oozing from the side of his head.

“I’ve had better days.”

“Well, call me crazy, but I think you should let a paramedic look at that gash on your head,” I say.

“You’re bloody crazy,” Ren says.

“Probably. I hear it runs in the family,” I say, taking a standing position and extending a hand to my uncle. “What do you say we get the hell out of here?”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Three days since war swept through Austin Valley and already the town hardly shows signs of the struggle that affected every single Reverian. As a society we repair things. It’s sewn into the fabric of our beings to fix that which is broken, to clean that which is dirty, and to throw out that which is irreparable. It will take much time to reverse the programming before Reverians will allow imperfection in this Valley. It’s a strange thing to strive for, however a goal. Who are we when we don’t allow flaws in our existence, but people of denial? To delude ourselves into believing we are perfect or that perfection exists at any level is an injustice to who we really are.

Humans.

We are humans who make wrong decisions, who act in strange ways, who have freckles and ailments. We are humans who are incredible in both our capacity to love and our resistance to hate. And in our imperfections we are beautiful. But it may be many years before Austin Valley shows widespread signs of accepting this. From my place on the steps to the labs I spy that merely half the Dream Travelers I see are wearing plain clothes. Most men still have their hair meticulously slicked back in the style they’ve worn most or all of their lives. Changing who we’ve always been isn’t something that happens overnight, but with knowledge change does become a more enticing idea. The people of Austin Valley now have the privilege to be whoever they want to be. And they also will have access to knowledge to choose who they want to be, and what they want to change.

Down the block construction has already begun on the new library. It will be on the lot where the newspaper was. The old library is too small to adequately house the thousands of books the Reverians will soon have access to. I’ve ensured that every book of significance will be in there. I have that right since I’m funding the library with the money Tutu gave me.

Half of the money has been put aside for Nona, for when she’s of age. I’ve already had fantasies of her using the money for college, maybe on the east coast or maybe abroad. Paris, Amsterdam, Sydney. There are endless possibilities. And just that short phrase feels like butter on my lips, rich and enticing. There are endless possibilities. It applies to Nona’s future. And mine. And Zack’s. And every single Reverian in Austin Valley.

A crisp winter wind sways through the trees in the main plaza before greeting my cheeks and the backs of my hands. I lift my chin and smile, a real smile, one enlivened by the morning sunlight.

“You know, sometimes I wish I had the power to control the wind,” Zack says, leaning over my shoulder.

I turn and look at his bright eyes. The scratches on his face are almost healed. “And why is that?” I say.

“Because a fresh breeze always seems to bring a smile to your face,” he says.

If possible, the smile on my face grows wider. “You make me smile,” I say. “Always have.” I reach out and fix his collar. He isn’t wearing a tie. Not that I think he’s given them up, but I see now that he realizes how he holds his same confidence and power no matter what he wears. Authentic power comes from within.

Zack’s eyes dart to just over my shoulder. “Looks like it’s almost time,” he says.

A sound I’ve rarely heard in Austin Valley greets my ears. I turn to see bikes parting on the main road to make way for the black van.

It’s almost time. Excitement and dread both fill my insides, although I never realized they were emotions that could exist together.

The van comes to a halt in front of us and before the brake is even on the back door swings open and four armed U.S. military soldiers spill out. From the front passenger seat Smith steps onto the pavement. The men line up in formation, ready for his command. He stalks past them and up the stairs to where we stand at the top of the stoop.

“Good morning,” I say and he responds by inclining his head slightly.

He looks around at the Valley, inspecting the repaired buildings and people interacting on the streets. “You people work fast,” he says, sounding slightly impressed.

“We have our interim mayor to thank for the progress, although he has encouraged the population to rest properly and not push ourselves to do everything at once,” I say.

“Yes, thanks to John Conerly’s efforts I was able to get clearance to invade the Valley,” Smith says. “John will make a fine mayor.”

“I agree,” Zack says with pride. “I hope that my father is elected fully into the position, but that’s for the people to decide.”

I smile up at Zack.

Smith looks at the front door of the lab. Something is churning in his head. A thought. An idea. He’s chewing on the inside of his lip. Finally his eyes slide over and look at both Zack and me. “This Valley was stolen from our nation,” he says. “And now that it has returned it feels as though we are whole again.” He presses his mouth together, a steady stream of emotions in his usually impassive gaze. Pride is one of the emotions. “I never realized how missing the puzzle piece of Austin Valley affected us so much. Maybe it’s because Dream Travelers are in fact powerful people and the ones here were so stifled,” he says, sounding a little reluctant to admit this. “Now that this large population of Dream Travelers has been released I’m interested to see how they contribute to our nation.”

I had had the same thought. “And I’m sure you’re happy that your colleagues and politicians have been released from Vider’s mind control,” I say.

“That I am,” Smith says. “People in the U.S. government have awoken since Vider’s mind control stopped.”

“The people here too,” I say.

“I see that,” Smith says.

“It’s astonishing how peaceful a society can be when permitted to rebel,” Zack says.

Smith extends a hand first to Zack and then to me. I take it. “Thank you, Smith,” I say.

“My name’s Forrest,” he says.

I nod. “Thank you, Forrest.”

He doesn’t say another word, only motions back to the soldiers on the sidewalk. They trot up the stairs at once in a line. Then the lab door swings open and they all file in, their boots making gentle beats on the concrete.

One minute. That’s how long we wait. It’s too long and it’s too short. I need more time to ready myself for what I’ll see. And I need less time to worry about how it will impact me.

One soldier exits first, holding open the lab door as two others pull their prisoner out into the winter’s air between them. Vider is wearing bright orange scrubs. The black hairs on his forearms rise from the cold. I spy this because he’s only a few feet away. I’m not seeing him with hyper-senses. He doesn’t have them anymore. The guards pause and then at Forrest’s command they turn and have Vider face me. I have one job left to do before my vacation officially begins and this is it. Forrest takes the position on the side of one of the U.S. military soldiers.

“Well?” he says, giving me a questioning look.

First my eyes scan Victor Vider. His black hair hangs loose on the sides of his bandaged head. His cuffed hands dangle in front of him, but I don’t sense that there’s any chance he’s going to attempt an escape. His head droops low, his broad shoulders slumped forward. Every part of him reeks with a demoralizing essence. He raises his chin as he takes a long breath and his green eyes focus on me. They are vacant, devoid of their usual power and prestige.

“I,” he says in a low growl. He licks his cracked lips and tries again. “I still remember.”

“Naturally,” Zack says. “We decided it was best that your memories stay intact. That was what your people voted for.” And there’s an ironic inflection on the words your people.

A long throaty growl vibrates in Vider’s chest.

Closing my eyes from his seething stare, I lock my attention on leeching him, drawing in any remnants of the power that once lived in this man.

My eyes spring open with a clear decisiveness. I direct my attention on Forrest. “His gifts are gone.” Then my eyes swivel to Vider’s. “He’s absolutely harmless.”

“Great,” Forrest says. “Men, take him away.” They turn Vider and march him down the stairs. He resists only slightly as one grabs the back of his head to duck him into the van. I turn my attention away, knowing he’s trying to deliver one last evil look of hatred at me. That’s his choice but I no longer have to give my attention to his sinister stares. I’m free of him. Quicker than I expected the van is loaded and pulling off onto the main road. It cruises through town and disappears around a corner.

A commotion at the corner bakery then grabs both Zack’s and my attention. Screaming. I see a flash of red and then the scene comes into crisp focus.

“What do you mean I don’t have any more credit here?!” a too familiar voice shouts. Dee is being forced out of the store doors, her straggly hair falling down in her pale face.

The store owner, a tall Middling man, shakes his bearded face at my sister. “We don’t operate on credit anymore. Cash only. U.S. dollars,” he says.

When Vider was in office his chosen elite Dream Traveler families paid for things using credit. Then the government paid the tab. Now things have returned to a 100 percent currency-based system. Housing isn’t assigned. It’s purchased. Everyone has the right to make money and buy whatever house they choose. And the opportunities to make money for Reverians is also endless since Middlings and Dream Travelers can choose to be whatever they want. No more assigned positions. Middlings can go to school. They can choose their own occupation. Again the buttery words grace the inside of my mind: the possibilities are endless.

Unfortunately for my sister this new economy is a problem since our father left my mother and her little money. Dee will no doubt be challenged to figure out how to support herself. Mother is currently being cared for by the hospital system since the shock of Father’s death sent her into a state of random ramblings and nonsensical babble.

I tried to help Dee. To offer to buy her an apartment, but she didn’t even grace me with a reply, only looked at me like I was an alien offering her real moon rocks. I’m sure she would have taken me up on my offer if I had said I’d buy our old house for her to live in, but that mansion will be bought by someone else. I know Tutu had her reasons for staying there, but those aren’t mine. I bought Zack’s house and it’s perfect for the three of us. Nona, Zack, and me.

Epilogue

I can tell by the delighted grin on Soon-hee’s face that it was a mistake that Parker’s and my horses were side by side when we arrived at the farm. It’s just that Parker took to riding the horse a little easier than Zack and preferred the faster pace. Zack preferred to slow his horse at every chance. Not wanting either guy to get too far away or behind I rode after Parker and Nona hung back with Zack. She is also a natural at riding, probably due to her fearless nature.

I’d gotten the horses for the ride to the farm from a small town a few miles north of Austin Valley. It was strange to hike into the little town and realize it had always been there but the protection Vider put around Austin Valley made it so its residents didn’t come into our boundaries and we didn’t trespass into theirs.

Stiff from the long journey I slide off Em, my golden palomino. I turn to find Soon-hee’s arms open and welcoming. Parker, who has also dismounted, walks straight into his mother’s arms, hugging her with a sweet affection. She continues to hold her arms out, not closing them around her son. She’s flapping her arms at me, waving me into her. Acquiescing to her insistence, I walk forward until I’m in the old woman’s embrace, alongside Parker. Her tiny arms hug around both of us. Then I step back and regard the old woman who’s wearing a proud grin.

“Boy or girl?” she asks.

“What?” Parker and I say together.

“My grandchild,” Soon-hee says, like we’re clueless. “Is it boy or girl?”

A horrified expression drips down Parker’s face. “No, it’s not like that, Umma.”

“Then what’s it like?” she says. “I’m not well versed on how American relationships work.”

“Well,” he says carefully. “It’s not like anything. Em and I are just friends.”

“Friends.” She says the word like it means something dirty. “Have you taken off your clothes in front of each other? That helps,” Soon-hee says.

Parker shakes his head. “We are friends. Just friends.”

Soon-hee opens her mouth, probably to protest, but Parker holds up his hand to silence her. “And Em is in love with Zack.”

“That boy over there who can’t ride horse?” Soon-hee says, pointing in Zack’s direction.

“That’s the one,” I say, watching Nona try to help him. “I better go intervene before he gets himself hurt.” Zack keeps pulling the reins in the wrong direction and his horse is now going in a haphazard circle. Instead of helping, Nona is actually doubled over on her horse laughing, her freckled cheeks red.

“Whoa, now, girl,” I say to the horse, grabbing her bridle. I halt her gently and look up at Zack, who’s out of breath and wide-eyed.

“Thanks,” he says, pulling his leg around and sliding down a bit awkwardly.

“I think with some practice you’ll be a pro,” I say to him, as he braces his wobbly legs by resting both his hands on my shoulders.

“I’m not joining any rodeos anytime soon,” he jokes, and his eyes part from mine as something over my shoulder catches his attention. “Is that…?”

I follow his line of sight. “Yes, that’s the house Rogue built.” I spy the same look of amazement on Zack’s face that I must have had when I saw this house the first time.

“It-it-it’s perfect,” Zack stammers out.

I take his arm and wrap it around my shoulder, hugging him into me. “That’s what I said too, because it is.”

The Craftsman-style house that stands before us truly has no flaws. From the top of the A-frame roof to the bottom of the front porch it’s impeccable. Rogue’s passion to create a home where he could feel safe and content is evident in so many details. This was the first place where Rogue was free from his father and he made it a monument to the happiness he long desired.

“I want to say that it’s hard to believe that Rogue built this all by himself, but then I remember exactly who Rogue was,” Zack says, his eyes on the mossy green house.

“He wasn’t your normal kind of guy,” I say, my fondness for Rogue prickling my chest.

“He was exceptional,” Zack says, now sweeping his eyes over the barn and fields where the animals graze. “He did all this?”

“Well, not the garden,” I say, noticing that Soon-hee has kept it protected from the winter temperatures. “Rogue couldn’t grow anything to save his life. Good thing he had his apportational ability or he might have actually starved to death.”

“Hey, Em,” Nona says, racing up to me. Her eyes are on fire with enthusiasm. “There’s a stream, and a field with these animals, and hiking trails, and that’s just what I’ve found by looking around briefly!” She doesn’t breathe once as her words spill out in an excited rush.

“Goats,” I say, allowing her smile to infect me.

“Huh?” she says.

“The animals are goats and they love to play. The little one is named Jasmine and she’s awful at hide-and-seek.”

“I. Get. To. Play. With. Goats!” she says, her eyes wide with excitement. I want to hug her right now, but I refrain. “I’m going to go explore some more!” she says, turning around and skipping off.

“Don’t go far,” I call to her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says flippantly over her shoulder.

I turn back to Zack, who’s wearing the most unabashed grin I’ve ever seen on his face, and I’ve seen a lot of his smiles. “Thanks for bringing me here, Em.”

Still at his side, I snake my hands around his waist and squeeze him into me. I’m overwhelmed with how right this feels. I questioned at first if it was too soon to take Zack to Rogue’s house. But I came to the decision that there was no better place for our healing to begin. Being with Zack has already mended the heart that broke when Rogue died. We are mending each other’s hearts as we have done for all our lives. There is no weirdness being with Zack after Rogue, only love.

“Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend, who isn’t my son,” Soon-hee says, her hands on her hips. Beside her Parker rolls his eyes.

“Soon-hee,” I say, pulling Zack in her direction, “this is Zack. Zack, this is the kind woman who’s been keeping an eye on the farm.”

“And after all my efforts, are you kicking me out in the cold? Are you taking over your farm so you can run it back into the ground?” the old woman says, but there’s a smile in her tone.

“Umma,” Parker says, disapproving.

I wave him off, accustomed to Soon-hee’s sharp humor. “You can sleep outside or in the barn if you like,” I say, “but you’re welcome to stay in the house as well. We’re just here for a little vacation. I thought you could use the company anyway.”

“Where are all you going to sleep?” she says, sounding put out.

“To be honest,” Parker says, “I don’t care where I sleep. I’m looking forward to dream traveling freely again.”

“I’m with you,” Zack says, a broad smile on his face.

“Em! Em! Em!” Nona screeches behind me.

I spin around, instantly panicked that she’s hurt. The smile plastered on her face puts my fears to rest. Nona grabs my hand and yanks me in the direction of the woods. She’s panting as she says, “You’ve got to see this. Zack, you come too.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice.

“You’ll see,” Nona says, her fingers tightening around mine. “And I’m fairly certain you haven’t discovered this yet.”

She pulls me to a hiking trail that I have explored a hundred times, but I don’t say anything. When we’re a few yards down the path Nona unexpectedly tugs me off the trail and through overgrown brush. I turn to give Zack a look of confusion, which he shares with me.

After almost tripping on roots and vines I turn back around. We’re now well off the trail. Signs of the approaching spring are showing as sprigs of green grass poke up from the composting leaf-strewn ground. “Where were you exploring and what were you looking for?” I ask Nona.

“Treasure,” she says, plainly. “You have to go off the beaten path to find it and that’s exactly what I did and look at what I found.” She stops abruptly on a sandy patch of earth. Her excited finger points at a giant oak tree. But that’s not all. Specifically she’s pointing at an inscription on the tree. Of words. And as my eyes trail over them the backs of my knees weaken. A tenderness I can barely breathe past dwells in my heart. The words in front of me and the story of how they came to be here is beautiful and also bewildering.

Carved into the old oak is:

Em + Zack = Forever

I love you two.

Take care of each other.

Rogue V.

My disbelieving eyes look from the tree to Zack’s face. Again he shares the same expression of confusion as me.

“When do you think he did this?” Zack asks, staring at the tree in awe.

“It looks fresh,” I say. “Maybe right before he died. Did he say his vision of us together was recent?”

“Yes,” Zack says. “When he told me about it, he said he’d just been getting the flashes of us in the future.”

“I wonder how far into the future he saw,” I say.

“Hard to tell with Rogue,” Zack says. “He knew so much from his clairvoyant flashes. I’m not sure he told us half of it.”

I turn and face Zack. Nona, as she’s prone to, has snuck off without a sound, leaving us alone. He takes a step and leans down so our foreheads touch.

“Do you think we can make it forever?” I ask.

“I’ve already loved you my entire life,” he says, “so without a doubt, yes.” And he covers my mouth with his, kissing me with a tender need. His lips have the gift to unbridle the purest of sensations within me. I peel back and turn around, pulling Zack’s arms around my chest as I do. Hugging him to my back. With a raw ache in my chest I stare at the marked tree. It stares back at me with a memory I don’t hold but somehow see of Rogue making this engraving.

“He was such a good man,” I say, and wonder if this vision of us here now is a vision Rogue saw of the future. It sends a warm chill across my chest.

“He was the best,” Zack agrees.

I step forward out of Zack’s arms and graze my fingertips over Rogue’s name etched into the bark.

“We love you,” I say. “Always.”

And then I turn to find Zack gazing thoughtfully at the tree, a sweet sentiment in his denim-blue eyes. I slide my hand in his and pull him back toward the path. Back toward the house Rogue built for us.

The End

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Don’t miss Ren’s novel. Learn his history. Go along on his adventures. Discover just what kind of man he really is.

Ren: The Man Behind the Monster

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Sarah loves to hear what readers think.

Acknowledgment:

I’d like to start off by thanking my readers. After book two, Rebels, many of you had a lot to say about the ending. Of course, people were disappointed. But you also gave me a lot of encouragement and that was absolutely necessary. That book almost broke me in half. And then I went on to write this book and the little bit not fractured in me did break completely. This book has been a hell of a ride to write, but I had so many of you encouraging me that it pushed me when I wanted to quit. Thank you to all my readers. I still can’t believe at times that you all like my books and keep reading them. Thank you!

Thank you to my beta readers Colleen, Heidi, Kelly and Kimberly. I don’t know what I’d do without your help. Well, actually I do. I’d be a padded cell because I would have lost my mind already.

Thank you to my family. I’m so fortunate to have your support and love and I’m grateful for it all.

Thank you to my friends. I really have the best group of friends. Hell, you all were my first readers and without you I wouldn’t have sold a book initially. Thank you for cheering me on.

Thank you to the people of Southern Oregon. I love that place. I love you people. Really some of the best people anywhere. Anyway, I really took the inspiration from that place and those people for this book. It is my dream place and I love it more than any other.

Thank you to Band of Dystopian Authors and Fans on Facebook. You all are the most supportive, tight-knit group. Really great people, and again I probably wouldn’t have sold many books if it weren’t for you all. And thank you to Katy for running the launch parties and being all-around awesome.

Thank you to my editor Christine LePorte. You said you were pissed about the ending for the second book, but still gave me so much encouragement. I think you’re not only my editor, but also my shrink at times. I loved getting your feedback after finishing this book. And really, my books shine because of you.

Thank you to Andrei Bat. This is probably one of my favorite covers. I’m astounded by your creativity at times. You are truly gifted and I’m grateful that your gifts are a part of my books.

Thank you to the awesome bloggers who I couldn’t do this without. Heidi, Melinda, Shemelle, Jordan, Anna, Katy, Katie, Shannon, Krista, Chelsea, Kariny. You all are fantastic and make my job easier and way more fun.

Thank you to Ribka Catherine Natauli Siborutorop for participating in the dream travel location contest. Thanks for the idea to use the Charles Bridge in Prague.

Thank you to Dominic and Maja for moderating and running the Goodreads fan group. And thank you to the members! I love the fan art, the questions, hearing about your experiences and just the opportunity to interact with you. I still can’t believe I have a fan group. Seriously pinch me.

Thank you to the many musical artist who without I would have been stuck. I did something different for this series and made one playlist for the entire series, instead of one for each book. It really helped me to stay immersed in the world of the Reverians. The list is so long but here’s the artist who really inspired this book and series: Blind Pilot, Hurt, Snow Patrol (seriously, Gary Lightbody if you want to serenade me every single night for the rest of my life, well we can discuss that. That kind of sounds like a proposal…don’t tell my husband), Mumford and Sons (Wolf = Vider), Above and Beyond, Sara Bareilles, Lana Del Rey, Imagine Dragons, Kris Allen, John Newman, and Big Data.

Thank you to God or the gods or whoever runs this show. Seriously, I’m constantly amazed by the ideas I get and how they have such complexity and weave in and out of the books. The Parcae was one of those moments in this book and I have no idea where it came from. Actually, I think I do. I think it was you.

Thank you to my husband. I couldn’t do this without you. Your support it monumental to the success of these books. And I love sharing them with you. Probably my favorite part of writing them.

And the final thank you goes to Lydia, my amazing and inspiring daughter. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d have the courage to write. Actually I know I wouldn’t because I didn’t seriously start until after you were born. You continue to be my muse. I love you.

About the Author:

Sarah is the author of the Lucidites, Reverians, Vagabond Circus and Ren series. She’s been everything from a corporate manager to a hippie. Her taste for adventure has taken her all over the world. If you can’t find her at the gym, then she’s probably at the frozen yogurt shop. If you can’t find her there then she probably doesn’t want to be found. She is a self-proclaimed hermit, with spontaneous urges to socialize during full moons and when Mercury is in retrograde. Sarah lives in Central California with her family. To learn more about Sarah please visit: http://www.sarahnoffke.com

Check out other work by this author: http://amzn.to/1Ulyubr

The Lucidites Series:

Awoken, #1:
http://amzn.to/1P4KriX

Around the world humans are hallucinating after sleepless nights.

In a sterile, underground institute the forecasters keep reporting the same events.

And in the backwoods of Texas, a sixteen-year-old girl is about to be caught up in a fierce, ethereal battle.

Meet Roya Stark. She drowns every night in her dreams, spends her hours reading classic literature to avoid her family’s ridicule, and is prone to premonitions—which are becoming more frequent. And now her dreams are filled with strangers offering to reveal what she has always wanted to know: Who is she? That’s the question that haunts her, and she's about to find out. But will Roya live to regret learning the truth?

Stunned, #2

Revived, #3

Vagabond Circus Series:
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Suspended, #1:
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When a stranger joins the cast of Vagabond Circus—a circus that is run by Dream Travelers and features real magic—mysterious events start happening. The once orderly grounds of the circus become riddled with hidden threats. And the ringmaster realizes not only are his circus and its magic at risk, but also his very life.
Vagabond Circus caters to the skeptics. Without skeptics, it would close its doors. This is because Vagabond Circus runs for two reasons and only two reasons: first and foremost to provide the lost and lonely Dream Travelers a place to be illustrious. And secondly, to show the nonbelievers that there’s still magic in the world. If they believe, then they care, and if they care, then they don’t destroy. They stop the small abuse that day-by-day breaks down humanity’s spirit. If Vagabond Circus makes one skeptic believe in magic, then they halt the cycle, just a little bit. They allow a little more love into this world. That’s Dr. Dave Raydon’s mission. And that’s why this ringmaster recruits. That’s why he directs. That’s why he puts on a show that makes people question their beliefs. He wants the world to believe in magic once again.

Paralyzed, #2

Released, #3

Ren: The Man Behind the Monster: http://amzn.to/1LoZV1i

Born with the power to control minds, hypnotize others, and read thoughts, Ren Lewis, is certain of one thing: God made a mistake. No one should be born with so much power. A monster awoke in him the same year he received his gifts. At ten years old. A prepubescent boy with the ability to control others might merely abuse his powers, but Ren allowed it to corrupt him. And since he can have and do anything he wants, Ren should be happy. However, his journey teaches him that harboring so much power doesn't bring happiness, it steals it. Once this realization sets in, Ren makes up his mind to do the one thing that can bring his tortured soul some peace. He must kill the monster. *Note* This book is NA and has strong language, violence and sexual references.

*Note* This book is NA and has strong language, violence and sexual references.

Ren: God’s Little Monster #2

Ren: The Monster Inside the Monster #3

Spanish version of The Lucidites Series:

Awoken: Despertada

Stunned:
Atonita

Revived: Resucitada

Sneak Peek of Suspended (Vagabond Circus Series, #1):

Prologue

There are those who come to judge the circus and then there are those who come to experience it. The latter go home satisfied. The former go home full of scrutinizing accusations. Those who experience the circus, taking it in and allowing themselves to be awed, have a richness built into their lives afterwards, almost like they’ve gained an extra day to their existence. Those who observe seem to have lost a day. They’re the ones who tear down sandcastles. They’re the ones who say clouds are just clouds when they are irrefutably in the shape of unicorns.

These skeptics are the people the Vagabond Circus caters to. The circus would shut their doors to the joyful and starry-eyed if their business didn’t keep it running. The Vagabond Circus runs for two reasons and only two reasons: first and foremost to give the lost and lonely Dream Travelers a place to be great. And secondly, to show the nonbelievers that there’s still magic in the world. If they believe then they care and if they care then they don’t destroy. They stop the small abuse that day by day breaks down humanity’s spirit. If the Vagabond Circus makes one person believe then they halt the cycle, just a little bit. They allow a little more love into this world. That’s Dave Raydon’s mission. And that’s why he recruits. That’s why he directs. That’s why he puts on a show that makes people question their beliefs. He wants the world to believe in magic once again.

And yet, what his patrons witness is real. Real people, doing real things. Things that are inconceivable to most, but real nonetheless. That’s because Dave recruits only Dream Travelers. People who can do what most can’t. Unique people. They aren’t magical. But to those who don’t know the difference, they are an inspiration. They appear magical. However, what most believe to be real magic is only the extraordinary which defines the Vagabond Circus completely.

Chapter One

Rain pelted the big top, gliding down the tent and gathering in puddles on the muddy ground. The crew had worked throughout the night to reinforce the oversized tent from the winds and storms. The earth it was bolted to was threatening to melt away, sending the bright green and blue tent into a mound of chaos. The Vagabond Circus had been on the road for three weeks and this was its first night in Seattle.

Tomorrow the city’s residents would have the opportunity to witness a show the people in Vancouver called “unbelievable,” “unreal,” and “more than a trick of smoke and mirrors.” The critics were speechless, as they were every year when the Vagabond Circus came through town. There was little to criticize and more than enough of the show to overwhelm the senses. No one understood half of what they saw at Vagabond Circus, but still they never looked away.

And yet in this year’s show there was something missing. The fifty people who came together to put on the show knew it. Its ringmaster, Dave Raydon, knew it. And the one person who could fill in the missing gap knew it after watching the show in Vancouver. But the audience had no clue there was anything lacking in the Vagabond Circus. They were ecstatic, leaving the big top with smiles that wouldn’t fade for hours. They had seen what they thought were tricks, not realizing everything about this circus was real.

In the shadows a boy stood under an old oak tree, only partially protected from the heavy monsoon. He watched in the dark as performers sprinted to their trailers. They were intent on getting dry and rested before the sun came up, marking a day of three shows. The boy was wet, but didn’t care. He was exhausted from hitchhiking and stealing rides on the train from Vancouver. But he was here. He’d followed Vagabond Circus. And soon he’d be ready for the next part of his plan.

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Sneak Peek of Awoken (The Lucidites Series, #1):

Prologue

The howling wind always marks his arrival. Tonight I’m not sleeping when it shakes the trees and sends debris flying around outside. The recurring nightmare woke me an hour ago. I wipe away the sweat beading my hairline and steal a glance out my window. The figure lurks in the shadows. He’s never any closer than the old oak tree, but that’s near enough. A chill shakes my core. I can’t do this one single night more. Shaking fingers scroll through my phone contacts until I find the right one.

“Hello,” a groggy voice says on the other end.

I speak in a whisper. “I’m not sure I believe what’s happening, but I’m ready to let them protect me.”

“Good,” the voice says with relief. “You’ll be glad you did.”

“What do I do now?”

“They want you to meet someone. He’ll explain what happens next.”

Chapter One

Forty-eight hours later

I wouldn’t believe any of this was real if it wasn’t for the two-inch gash in my arm. Still, denial has rented a room in my head and frequently stomps around slamming doors. I have never considered myself normal, but only now do I fully realize how extremely abnormal I am. That’s not the part I’m denying anymore. It’s my potential fate.

Now I have to do the one thing that feels impossible: focus. It’s difficult when my life has quickly turned into a mass of confusion. I force myself to shake off the distractions. The answers I seek reside in a place I can only get to if I let go.

With immense effort, I relax enough to concentrate. In my head, I see the dam. The concrete stretches out like a barrier, pushing the water away. I pay attention to the water, how it voyages down the spillway. Slow breaths intensify the meditation, giving it color and sound. I continue to visualize until I sense the change. It’s polarizing, in a good way. My body remains planted in the comfy bed while my consciousness dream travels. Now I’m racing through the silver tunnel—my transport to the other dimension. Adrenaline tastes like salt water in my mouth. And too quickly the journey is over, leaving me panting as I’m tossed into a vast space.

The tunnel deposits me at the edge of the spillway on a concrete embankment. A cursory glance behind reveals a calm lake reservoir; ahead the spillway plummets for a hundred feet or more before cascading into the lake. The moon overhead is full. Beside me is a woman.

“I was beginning to think you were lost again,” she says.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say.

“I assumed you already knew my name.”

Apparently the Lucidites don’t believe in greetings. “Well, some ID wouldn’t hurt.”

Shuman’s black hair resembles strands of silk. She wears a leather vest and blue jeans. I straighten, feeling smaller than usual next to her.

“Did you decipher the riddle on your own?” Shuman says, ignoring my comment. The moon reflects off her high cheekbones, making her appear angular.

“No,” I admit, “Bob and Steve helped.”

I’m confused why Shuman gave me a riddle instead of just telling me where to dream travel to meet her. I guess as the Head Mentalist for the Lucidites she has to make everything as perplexing as possible. She must be great at her job.

“Yes, it was forecast that they would assist you,” she says.

“Right, of course,” I say, not masking the irritation in my voice. It isn’t Bob’s and Steve’s help I resent, it’s that the Lucidites are privy to my life through psychic means.

“And we are here because of a different prediction.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about it.”

“Have you also heard that it involves you?”

“Well, I know there’s a potential I’ll be involved.”

“We have new information. Your name is the only one in the forecast now.”

“What?” I breathe with quiet disbelief. “No, that’s impossible.”

“It is possible and I assure you it is true. The speculation of predictions solidifies as the approaching event draws closer. Now forecasters see you as the true challenger.”

“No,” I say too fast, denial evident in my tone. “And I’m not here because of the forecast; I’m here because they said you’d help me.”

“They are correct. The first way I can help is by getting you to accept what has been predicted.”

“Predictions are just guesses though. What if they’re wrong?” I say.

Shuman raises her eyebrow in disapproval, shakes her head. “Roya, do you doubt it because it involves you?”

“Mostly I doubt it because it’s absurd. None of it makes sense.”

“Maybe not yet, but it will,” Shuman says. “Unfortunately we are running out of time. The forecasters have determined the static moment to be twenty-one hundred hours on June thirteenth.”

That’s in a month. My throat closes and my chest shrinks in on itself. “What? I can’t…There’s no way…” I trail off, lost in morbid thoughts of my impending death. “Why not you or someone else more qualified?”

“If I was chosen I would be honored, but I was not. You were.” Shuman gazes at the full moon, her silver earrings highlighted by its white light. “I have tracked Zhuang for decades without success. Many of us have.” She turns and looks at me for the first time. Her dark eyes resemble amethysts. “This fixed point in time is the only chance anyone will have the opportunity to challenge him. And the forecast states you are the person with the best opportunity to end his brutal reign.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not a threat to anyone.”

“A few days ago you saw yourself very differently than you do now, is that right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then consider it possible that in a month you will be a deadly force.”

After what I’ve learned, I’m almost willing to believe this might be true. I sigh. “So what do you really want from me?” I ask.

“Make a choice,” Shuman says at once. “You must decide whether you accept this role. If you do, then I can give you the help you asked for.”

“If everything you’ve said is true then I don’t have a choice.”

“It is all true,” she says through clenched teeth. “And in waking life and dreams, you always have a choice. This is what makes Dream Travelers different from Middlings. We do not sleep and fall into dreams that happen to us. We create our dreams. We choose where we travel.”

I rub my eyes, frustrated and strangely tired. “It’s just facing Zhuang sounds like a death sentence. I don’t want to go through all this just to die in June.”

“If you make the choice to be the challenger then you will face many dangers. You may not even make it to June. You may die tonight.” Shuman’s face lacks any compassion.

“If you’re trying to convince me to do this then you’re not doing a very good job,” I say.

Shuman stares at the moon for a minute as if she’s calculating something. “I will need your answer.”

“What? Now!?” My voice echoes over the spillway. “Just like that? I don’t get a minute to think it over or go home and weigh out my options?”

“You do not have a home,” she reminds.

My foot connects with the concrete curb in front of me. I want to throw an all-out tantrum. Running and hiding also sounds like a good idea. Shuman’s oppressive demeanor, indifferent to my predicament, makes it tough to think. I wait for her to say something, but she just stands motionless watching the moon. She’s starting to creep me out.

“What’s going to happen to my family?” I ask, the last word sounding strange as it tumbles out of my mouth.

“I suspect Zhuang will maintain his hold on them, but who he really wants is you,” Shuman says indifferently. “Your family is officially classified as hallucinators. He has the ability to keep them like this for a long time. Or he could finish them rather quickly.”

Finish them? Does that mean what I think it does? This man, this parasite, is stealing my family’s ability to dream, causing them to fall into hallucinatory states. And I’m powerless to stop Zhuang if he decides to drain them of their consciousness. Then they’d be shells, sleepwalkers. Dead in no time. A shiver runs down my spine.

Shuman continues, “Zhuang’s plan was to make you panic and surrender to him. It is fortunate we found you first. My guess is your family will hang in limbo. Zhuang’s attention will be on finding you. If you want to help your family then stay away, otherwise he will use them against you. And if you want to release them then you need to fight Zhuang.”

“And win,” I say, doubt oozing all over the words.

“Well, of course.”

“This whole thing makes no sense.” I rub my head with a shaky hand. “Why me? I’m barely old enough to drive. I’ve only known about this mess for a few days. How was I chosen? How am I the best person to face him?”

“I do not know the answers to these questions,” she says, still fixated on the moon.

“Then why should I do this!? Why should I jeopardize my life without knowing why I’ve been chosen?”

Shuman takes one long blink as though contemplating or meditating. Her words are airy and quiet when she finally speaks. “The great Buddha once said, ‘Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.’”

I bite down hard on my lip. So this is the way it is? Either I live my life alone on the streets and watch as Zhuang ransacks humanity’s dreams. Or, option two, I volunteer to kill him and most likely die trying, but my consolation prize will be I’ll know why I’d been chosen. I’ll know who I was and where I could have belonged…if I hadn’t died in Zhuang’s hands. This seems like a scam, although an ingenious one.

A sincere part of me wants to return to my family and shake them until they’re released from their hallucinations. Then we can go on living our lives where the most interesting things that happen are football, church, and barbeques. It’s not a great life for an agnostic vegetarian, but is it better than death? I may be a product of the East Texas soil, but the winds here have never agreed with me. I’ve been looking for a way out of this town, but not like this.

“I cannot grant you any more time,” Shuman says. “I need your answer.”

I scan the surface of the water, looking for nothing in particular. She can wait for my answer. She will.

I push my fingers into my eyes and inhale deeply. This duel is inevitable. Zhuang and his challenger’s futures are intertwined. Any attempt to evade the other person will only bring the two together. And somehow I was elected by people I don’t know, for a danger I only recently knew existed. Still none of this makes sense, which is why I know I have to rely on instinct. It’s all I have left. “Fine,” I say a bit pathetically. “I’ll do it.”

A smile would be nice, or maybe a “good for you.” Instead Shuman, who appears to be all business, all the time, begins spouting instructions. “Your next step is to find the Lucidite Institute. Since you are relatively new to dream traveling there are many risks you face.”

No big surprises there.

Shuman continues, “You must dream travel to the Institute while fully submerged in water.”

Um, what? “Are you serious? I’ll drown.”

“There is that risk, yes, but the only way to enter the Institute is through water. To travel there you must return to your body and then immerse yourself in water. I advise you to know you are one with it. It is through this knowledge that you overcome the fear of drowning and focus on the higher task of dream traveling. If you remain calm and focus properly then you will travel and arrive at the Institute. If you are unsuccessful, then yes, you will drown.”

“Oh, is that all? Sounds like a piece of cake.” I’m wondering now if I made the right decision.

Shuman narrows her eyes, but doesn’t respond otherwise.

I rub my temples as an overwhelming pressure erupts behind my eyes. “This is all so strange, it sounds like a recurring dream I’ve been…” My words fall away as the inevitable truth dawns on me. “You put those dreams in my head, didn’t you?” I accuse, staring at her rigid persona.

“The Lucidites are responsible, yes,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.

“What! That’s insane! That’s awful. Night after night I dreamed I was drowning myself. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

“You should be grateful. We have prepared you for the journey you are about to take. Your subconscious mind has already practiced much of what you are going to do.”

“Grateful!?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought I was losing my mind. I didn’t sleep well for weeks. No. I’m not the least bit grateful. You invaded my subconscious,” I spew, more frustrated now than frightened.

Shuman takes a long inhale and says, “Everything that has been done was to protect you and the future.”

How do I argue with that statement? How do I argue with any of this? I want to run, to abandon this farce which has become my life. However, my instinct is concrete around my legs, pinning me in place, assuring me this is where I belong.

“Roya, we are running out of time,” Shuman says, breaking the silence. “Do you have any questions?”

“Why does it have to be so complicated to dream travel to the Institute? Isn’t there an alternative?” Like a spaceship or a drug?

“No, there is not,” Shuman says. “The Institute is heavily protected by water. The difficulty it takes to travel there is what makes it the safest place on earth.”

The idea settles over me like a down comforter. Safety. What would that feel like? Every moment has been cloaked with a hidden threat for so long. When the recurring dreams weren’t plaguing me, the paranoia lurked in the shadows and was all but incapacitating. It was almost enough to make me take the pills the therapist kept pushing. Almost.

“If I do all this”—the words drip out of my mouth— “if I don’t drown, then I’ll be at the Institute? I’ll be safe? At least for a little while, right?”

Her eyes jerk away from their focal point. There’s a twitch at her mouth. “Yes.”

I sigh. It’s the first one of relief in a while. “All right then, I’ll do it,” I say halfheartedly.

She turns and faces me, resting her arms across her chest. Around one of her forearms is a tattoo of a rattlesnake. The serpent’s tail lies on her elbow and its head on the back of her hand.

“There is one last thing,” she says, a warning in her voice. “Only Lucidites can enter the Institute. You must want to be one of us, or you will be forbidden from entering.”

I blink in surprise. My mouth opens to voice hesitation, but she disappears, leaving me alone and feeling as though I’m standing on the edge of the earth.

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Sneak Peek of Ren: The Man Behind the Monster:

Prologue

When I was born the doctor said I wouldn’t live the night through. I had a problem with a valve in my heart. My pops called a secret healer who lived a few towns away. And now I write this to you as a grown man. I’m not spoiling anything for you from the tale you’re about to read. It isn’t a spoiler that all these years I’ve survived. The true secret is that I lived at all. Actually I lived on an edge, one so dangerous most don’t even know it’s there. I didn’t sell my soul to the devil or dance with her on a clear night. I ran up to the devil and I stole the mask she wore and I wore it comfortably for quite some time. But then I met an angel and she made me want to die. I didn’t though. My secret isn’t even that I lived. It’s that I lived pretending to be the devil, wishing God would save my soul. I knew this was a wasted wish. I have no soul left to save. It’s why I could steal the devil’s persona. It’s why I lived when I should have died too many times.

I don’t hold babies or pause for the elderly. It’s not because I’m unkind. I’m kind. I’m kind enough to never put myself close to anyone vulnerable. I’m afraid I might break them. I’m afraid of myself. I live alone or with the strong and arrogant. But I don’t live close to those who are vulnerable. I don’t live close to those who might dare to love me. I don’t trust myself otherwise.

When I was born God made an awful error. He allowed a healer to save me. He allowed me to live. I’m a mistake. Not because my parents didn’t intend to have me and God failed to kill me. I’m a mistake because of what I can do. I’m a mistake because people like me aren’t destined for happiness. We are the miserable. The lonely. The people you warn your children not to become. The ones you warn your children to stay away from.

I’m Ren Lewis and I was born with too much power.

Chapter One

April 1985

The antique clock on the wall had the most irritating tick. It seemed extraordinarily loud. Probably because the old grandfather was a knockoff. It most likely was manufactured the year before in some backyard by a wanker who failed clock-making school and decided to go into forgery. I instantly liked the clock a lot more.

Snap. Snap.

The middle-aged Middling therapist dared to snap his dried fingertips in front of my face. Sure, I wasn’t paying attention to him. Sure, he’d asked his question to me repeatedly, and without answering I continued to stare at the clock which had too much lacquer and the detail work was a bit rough in places. How much did this shrink shell out for such a phony piece of furniture?

Unhurried, I pulled my gaze around to face the irritated therapist. I had to give him credit. He almost appeared in control of this situation. Bravo. This is the only thing I think he had control of, since I was guessing his overweight wife probably bossed his skinny ass around all day and his three kids owned the parts of him that she didn’t. But this guy had a mock sense of authority over me; at least he had been trying to make a show of it.

I blinked at him blankly. “What was the question?” I said.

“Ren, are you paying the least bit of attention during this session?” Dr. Simon said, pushing his wiry glasses up the thin bridge of his nose.

I took a deliberate moment to actually think about the question. Should I answer honestly or should I save his ego and make him as the poor therapist feel better about himself? Yeah, saving egos is someone else’s job, for sure.

“Not really,” I said, stretching out my arms with a long yawn. “But if it will make this whole mess go along a tad faster then I’ll give it a bit more of my attention. How’s that, doc?”

He bristled, pulling his yellow pad of notes closer to him as he crossed a skinny ankle over his bony knee. “What do you have to say for your actions? Are you the least bit remorseful about what you did to poor Widow Johnson?”

I felt my eyebrows rise with surprise. Yeah, I was remorseful, but not about what I did to the old bag. I was remorseful that I’d been so foolish. Still new to my gifts, I had a lot to learn about limitations. Using my mind control, I convinced the old lady to give me her husband’s old Bentley. Give it to me. No questions asked.

“Here you are,” she said, her Scottish accent much fainter than I remembered in years past. “It’s all yours.” Old Mrs. Johnson handed me the keys to the Bentley Continental, which had only been driven on Sundays. Then she gave me one little bit of advice. “Be careful around the corners. Henry didn’t like the tires to get dirty.”

I’m sure he didn’t. But this car had only one destiny in my hands. It was going to get dirty. Inside and out. I was going to drive it to London. Park it in front of the finest clubs and tempt the finest of women to join me inside it. And my plan would have worked and I would have been laid by a model at the early age of fifteen years old. However, it didn’t work because I didn’t have a license to drive or the know-how to do so.

Instead of driving that sleek ride to London, I crashed it into old man Miller’s stack of hay bundles on the other side of Mrs. Johnson’s farm. I knew then I’d never see a pretty lady undressing herself in that backseat. I had the know-how without all the actual “know-how.” I could control minds, but didn’t know how to do things…simple little things like driving. I needed to learn how to do these small tasks. But being fifteen provided all sorts of disadvantages. And namely, the first disadvantage was sitting squarely in front of me, fidgeting with his note pad.

“The last time you were in here was because you let all of Mr. Gretchen’s sheep loose,” Dr. Simon said, reading from his file on the side table. He needed to have his orderly notes. Needed to be able to refer back to them. He didn’t have the advantage of a flawless, photographic memory, like me. Poor soul with his weaknesses and many shortcomings. How he made it through graduate school is ever a wonder to me.

My green eyes narrowed at the accusation. It was all wrong. As usual. Just like with the Bentley. They thought I stole it, when it was actually given to me. And I didn’t let the sheep loose. I made Mr. Gretchen do it using a bit of hypnosis, partnered with mind control. However, I made silly errors in the process. Firstly, I’d hung around to watch the mayhem of sheep patrolling through our muddy streets. I’d also done a sloppy job of mind control on the dumb farmer. He remembered me. Didn’t know what I did to him, but there was enough suspicion that the whole thing was pinned on me. They thought I just let the sheep out, which is a lot more innocent a crime than what I really did.

“Tell me, Ren, why is it that you keep acting out?” Dr. Simon said, almost looking a little afraid of me, but bent on acting his part as the parish therapist. The church wasn’t just paying him to sign off on the health and well-being of most of its members. They also expected him to fix the lot of us who were intent on the devil’s rule.

I sized the guy up. We’d had at least half a dozen sessions. None of my usual lies had worked, so I decided he was ready for the truth. The truth I always saved until I was in the most amount of trouble. The truth invariably set me free, but not because people believed me. Rather because they thought I was crazy, which I probably am.

“I keep acting out because,” I began in a rehearsed voice, “well, it’s complicated, and it’s actually a secret. I’m not sure if I should tell you. You may get mad at my parents since it was their insistence that I keep this private.”

“Ren, I won’t get mad at your parents,” Dr. Simon said in his soothing therapist tone. “You can tell me anything and we will work through it together. Your parents will suffer no harm by your truths.”

I nodded. Inside I smiled with glee. “The truth is that I was born half Dream Traveler, and not only can I travel through space and time using my dreams, but as this special race of humans I’m also gifted with a skill. Some Dream Travelers have one or maybe even two gifts. I can control people using my mind, hypnotize people with movements, and if I touch someone I can hear their thoughts.” I scuffed some imaginary dirt off my shoe. “That’s the truth. The big secret. Don’t be mad at me or my parents for it.”

The therapist took in a long annoyed breath. “Until you, Ren, are ready to actually talk about your crimes in a real manner then these sessions are futile.”

A slow smile formed on my face. The truth was always the better option in these situations. No one believed it and therefore just assumed I was a no-good teen. A troublemaker. A pathological liar. The truth was I kept telling the truth over and over again and no one believed me. My father, who had spent his life hiding the fact that he carried Dream Traveler blood in him, hadn’t especially liked that I did this. But he was smart enough to realize no one was ever going to believe me. I was Ren. The boy who had been there when my teacher pulled her knickers down during my solo detention last year. The boy who had been the one to call authorities when my entire church group, including our teacher, fell into inexplicable comas. I was the strange boy. The one who things happened around. But people thought it was because I was a troublemaker branded with the word “cursed” across my head. They had no idea it was because since I was ten years old I’d come into my gifts and could control most using my mind and hypnotize anyone I dared. I told them to hold my hand so I could read their thoughts, but they’d totally shrugged me off most of the time. Even though I kept telling the truth, I was dismissed. And that’s what made the whole thing even more fun. What fools they all were. Utter, stupid fools.

But my mum saw through it and knew I was manipulating the lot of them. And her look of heartbreak did cause me a bit of stress. She kept professing her faith in me though. She thought that a heavy hand would never make me see my awful ways, but rather the hand of our Lord and Savior. That’s why she kept convincing the church to take me in after each of my crimes. Counsel me. Absolve my sins. Steer me in the right direction.

However, my mother was as short-sighted as the rest. As a Middling, those who are without gifts or the power to dream travel, she’d never see how much fun it was to manipulate. My mother didn’t see a lot. Mostly because her life was so limited. And I wasted too many years of her life with my antics when I could have been with her, learning the lessons only she could teach me. The ones I only now realize Middlings can teach. Those of the heart. Dream Travelers are too distracted by our minds, by our gifts, to fully understand how love works. However, Middlings aren’t complicated in that way.

“Ren, we’ve been doing this regularly,” Dr. Simon said to me that evening. He was thoroughly done with my shenanigans, and soon the poor chap would sod off to his meager dwelling on the outskirts of Peavey, where his family would abuse him with neglect and pesky remarks about his feeble appearance. He sighed deeply. “Ren, when you get caught, your mother makes her case to the vicar and somehow you end up seeing me instead of the constable. These opportunities for you to have rehabilitation instead of punishment are running out. I suggest you be real with me. I want you to tell me why you act out. Many of your teachers describe you as having a chip on your shoulder. Of being hostile. Do you want to tell me why? This is your last chance.”

More than once throughout my life I’ve been asked what it is that made me so hard, so hostile. Why would something have to make me the way I am? I’ve known dozens of happy people who have nothing to be happy about and still they plaster stupid grins on their faces every bloody day. There are those who are all scared and tortured and they’ve got no good reason for the self-pity. Nothing more than a few trivial things have ever happened to them. Forgetting their lunch. Missing an exam. Not getting the girl. And yet these lowlifes go through life like they were given a curse at birth.

It’s mostly just a choice. Life doesn’t make most of us any certain way. We wake up, and usually without knowing it, act in a way that fits our personality. Nothing made me the way I am. Not really. Things colored me. Persuaded me. But no experience is responsible for making me hostile. It’s just the way I prefer to be. Also, who I am is a result of something inside my bones. Probably a monster who feeds off my unhealthy behavior. I’m not a victim of circumstance. I’m a man who believes that the best strategy involves being extremely cynical and even more conniving. And if there’s one thing I’m more excellent at than all the other things, it’s strategy. I’m a bloody master at it. Hell, I’m fairly certain God takes notes out of my book. He should. If he knows what’s good for him.

I brought my eyes up to meet the therapist’s gaze. I’d made a great show of putting real emotions on my face. My bottom lip quivered a bit. My eyes were filled to the brim with fake tears. And when I opened my mouth an actual croak happened out. “It’s my sister, Lyza,” I wailed. “She abuses me. She abuses me badly,” I sang.

“Your older sister, Lyza?” Dr. Simon said, sitting forward, almost knocking the pad off his thin lap.

“That’s right,” I said, furiously nodding my head. “The one due to graduate early this year and with an acceptance to Oxford. That one. But what you don’t know is she does things to me,” I said, putting a look of shameful hurt on my face.

“Don’t you worry, Ren,” Dr. Simon said, leaning forward, placing a hand on my shaking arm. “We won’t let her hurt you any longer.”

Truth be told, Lyza only hurt me with dirty remarks and cold stares. But Lyza had told our mother since she was thirteen that our mum was no better than a servant in our house. She had despised our mum for being a Middling and I in turn despised Lyza. And now I was going to make her pay for every hurtful thing she did to our mum. See, the thing is, when Ren gets in trouble, so do other people.

I allowed the doctor’s hand to linger on my forearm. Now was probably not the time to tell this homosexual that I didn’t quite enjoy his touch, but definitely go and cart my sister away for abusing her little brother. I grabbed one more thought out of the doctor’s head before he slipped his hand away. That one thought was enough for me to know that the punishment Dr. Simon saw for Lyza would fit the bill until I could up the ante.

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Table of Contents

Get your free book here

DEFECTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Acknowledgements:

REBELS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Acknowledgements:

WARRIORS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Epilogue

Acknowledgment:

About the Author:

Sneak Peek of Suspended (Vagabond Circus Series, #1):

Sneak Peek of Awoken (The Lucidites Series, #1):

Sneak Peek of Ren: The Man Behind the Monster:

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