by Aella Black
That hurt. No, that killed. Just like she’d had done to me for the past month. No matter how violent or bloody it got, no matter how much pain I was in, she never once stepped in.
But for him, she sent a team to retrieve and revive him. Secretly kept him alive in hopes that one day she could wake him. It had never been more clear who she loved, and that was not me.
Dad didn’t return her loving and happy gaze. “You get Phoebe out of that uniform the moment this conversation is over. You let her go. Do you understand?”
My mother’s face fell. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“She’s our daughter. Do you have no conscience?”
Ignoring his statement, she turned back to me. “As I was saying… It’s no accident that you’re supernatural, Phoebe. While you were still in the womb, I had scientists alter your DNA.” She paused, then rocked my world yet again. “We had scientists alter your DNA.”
My gazed flicked to my father, who looked ashamed. As he should.
“Obviously, we weren’t the only ones,” she continued. “And all of the children’s abilities manifested when you hit puberty.”
That much made sense, based on the ages of the inmates.
“I used to dream about what kind of powers you might have. What you could do with them. The good you could do with them. But then you got cancer.” Her face soured.
It was an expression I’d seen many times before. I always assumed it was her way of trying to cope with me being sick, but now I wondered if there was something more behind it. Disappointment, for starters.
“You were going to die unless you had a stem cell transplant. I was a perfect match, and you needed it so of course we did it. But I assumed the mixing of our DNA meant you wouldn’t have any supernatural abilities.” She paused, her eyes lighting up. “That is, until you showed up here at Lansing, and I learned you couldn’t die.”
Dad’s eyes widened. “Phoebe can’t die? That’s her power?”
“Oh, I can die,” I snarled. “Right, mother?”
“She always comes back to life,” she assured him. “Isn’t that remarkable? No matter how many times—”
“You tested her?” His voice shook, and if I wasn’t mistaken, so did the bed. For her sake, it was probably a good thing he wasn’t able to get up right now.
She brushed aside his comments as if she’d heard them all before. Maybe she had.
“Anyway, it appears the transplant had an unintended effect, and you’ve developed a second ability.”
My mother actually sounded proud, and I realized she was. But not of me. Apparently, she was a narcissist as well as a psychopath.
I sure hoped that wasn’t genetic, or I was screwed.
“Second ability?” I repeated. “No one has more than one.”
“Yes, well, not everyone’s DNA was altered by their mothers.” Yeah, she was definitely full of herself.
“She’s a chimera,” my dad whispered.
My gaze snapped to his. “A what?”
“A chimera. ” He shook his head, though it seemed to be shock rather than disbelief. “Bone marrow contains stem cells that develop into red blood cells. You now have cells that are genetically identical to your mother’s, but you also have ones unique only to you. In other words, your DNA was forever altered with the transplant.”
My mind worked furiously, trying to make sense of both the science and what I would have previously considered fantasy. But my father was a scientist, so despite the fact I was still confused at what part he played in all of this, I trusted what he said.
“And now she has the power of healing,” my mother said. The awe in her tone was a little frightening. I was getting some serious ‘mad scientist’ vibes.
I shook my head. “No way. I haven’t healed anyone before. If I could do that, I would have—”
Saved Titus. And Oscar.
They didn’t have to die. I could have saved both of them.
“You wouldn’t have known because you can’t heal by touch,” she said. “Your tears, Phoebe. They have healing powers.”
She had to be joking. “How could you possibly know that?” I asked.
“You were crying when I walked in,” she pointed out. “Did any of your tears fall on your father?”
They did. But I didn’t confirm nor deny. I didn’t have to.
“Marcus had an irreparable brain injury. There’s no other explanation. And you’re right, you would have noticed this ability sooner if all you had to do was touch someone. It’s the tears. I’m willing to bet my whole career on it.”
She said that like she was proud of it. Like her “career” wasn’t torturing teenagers on a daily basis.
“Come here, Phoebe,” Dad whispered.
I didn’t hesitate. Taking his hand, I squeezed it tight. “I’m sorry we put you through this,” he said. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dad.” Please let that be true. Regardless, this was. “I’m just glad I found you. Actually, Xan—”
Screams erupted down the hall. Mom went rigid. “The riot has gotten out of control,” she said. “I must attend to my duties.” She moved in as if to give Dad a kiss, but he visibly recoiled.
“Don’t touch me,” he said coldly. “I don’t even want to look at you.”
For the first time, his words seemed to land. My mother’s face fell, genuine betrayal playing out over her features. “But Marcus, I saved you. If it wasn’t for me—”
“Phoebe saved me,” he said. “And I swear on my last breath, Jane… I will take you and the entire SCC down. You’ll be behind bars for life before I’m through with you.”
She stiffened, eyes turning cold. “If that’s how you feel.” Tugging on her blazer, she walked toward the exit.
Before leaving, she turned back around and said, “You both know—you must know—I did this for us. All of us.” She waved her hands in a flourish, as if indicating the kids at the prison. Or maybe she meant the whole world?
I didn’t get to ask, because in the next second, she was gone.
Dad tried to sit up. Emphasis on tried. Clearly, he was still weak from being bed-ridden for so long.
“Are you okay? What can I get you?” I asked.
My mother would be busy for a while, but would she send guards back to take me away? And what about Dad?
One thing was obvious… as cold-hearted as my mother could be, she really did love my father. No one would go to the lengths she did to keep him alive. In fact, I’d bet my superpowers that the SCC didn’t know she’d been hiding him away here all that time.
So, at the very least, I knew she wouldn’t kill him. Even if she was angry right now, she loved him too much for that.
Through the open door, the noise grew louder. “If there’s a riot, things are about to get ugly. And the SCC’s version of ugly isn’t something I want you anywhere near. Do you think you can push me out of here?” he asked.
My heart pounding, I looked around at the various machines that surrounded the bed. He was still hooked up to who-knows-what, and I had no idea what he needed and what could stay behind. I wasn’t a medical doctor, or even a scientist. I had no clue what I was doing.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he said, misinterpreting my hesitation, “but we really need to leave.”
“But—”
“I know these people, Phoebe. It’s not safe here.”
I bristled. My father knew them, but he didn’t know me. Not anymore. I wasn’t leaving without my friends.
Without Xander.
It wasn’t safe for any of us. So no matter how much I wanted to be free of this place and my mother, once and for all, they were going with me or I wasn’t going at all.
I opened my mouth to tell him that just as the door burst open.
19
Xander
Warrick couldn’t get to everyone, but he certainly tried.
Snarling, he unleashed
torture on every one who crossed his path. But there were more of us than there were of him.
He became so flustered that he had no time to react before I punched him square in the face. “That was for Titus.” Warrick blinked up at me, dazed, before I smashed my fist into his face again, knocking him out cold this time.
Then I walked away before I did something truly terrible.
Chaos surrounded me. At least half the inmates had taken a stand, and as far as I knew, those were only the ones in our rotation. The guards were equipped with lethal weapons, but most seemed hesitant to actually use them. And even if they were so inclined, the supernaturals who fought—Leavenworth and Lansing, alike—were able to disarm them before anyone was seriously injured.
The guards were outnumbered, plain and simple.
And inmates were angry.
It made me wonder how much time Heath had spent keeping everyone calm. In fact, none of this might have been happening right now if he weren’t still unconscious from Titus’s accidental blast.
If the prison were a pot, this had to have been heating up long before today for things to boil over like it did. It surprised me. I’d thought everyone was settled. Definitely too docile for what I was seeing right now.
Fang tore into anyone who dared to get near him, tackling guards and biting their limbs, tearing skin and breaking bones. His anger and despair over the loss of his twin brother was a living, breathing thing. And it had only one goal in mind: total destruction.
Blaze, the bully I’d confronted during my first meal here at Lansing, rubbed his hands together, sparking flames. Then he blasted broken furniture that littered the room. Some caught fire, triggering the sprinklers. Now it was wet inside and outside, where it continued to storm.
Hunter ran up onto the ceiling with smoke bombs in hand, throwing them down at the guards. I had no clue where he’d gotten them, and I didn’t care. But it was getting difficult to see.
A spark of electricity alerted me to Zapper, who was working his magic to shock whatever guard he could get his hands on. Apparently, he’d gotten more powerful in his time here. It was good to see at least one of the former Wolf Pack members helping out for a change.
Even Phoebe’s cellmate Lucy made a big show out of getting into the guards’ heads and disorienting them. While she did that, another supernatural would knock them out of commission. I’d heard she was eager for attention—that’s why she sold Phoebe out—so I supposed the stage was set for her.
Bodies littered the floor, some wounded, most unconscious. As I surveyed the chilling scene, another famous Civil War quote popped into my head.
War is cruelty… the crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.
I hoped this was over soon.
But not all of the guards were down and out.
I spotted a cluster of them who’d surrounded some of the weaker inmates. As I drew near, I saw Venom among the group.
Leaping into the fray, I picked up the closest guard and tossed him across the room. I narrowly missed being tased by another. One swing of my fist took the guy down before he could pull out another weapon.
Another looped something around my neck, and then I heard a scream right before yet another guard fell on his face. I turned to see Venom wiping his mouth, blood staining his lips. The guard convulsed on the ground. “Thanks,” I said to my cellmate.
Venom grinned, showing his pink teeth.
Inmates had begun to spread out, no longer confined by a rigid line of guards. Some ran out of the rec room, likely in search for a way out. Cathy and Birdie must have found a way out, and I hoped they found a safe place to hide.
Rocky stood less than a foot from me when she slashed a guard with a sharp crystal she’d made. Then she kicked him down. “Xander!” she shouted. “Let’s find the others and get out of here.”
She was right. Enough guards had been taken down that we should have a fighting chance to escape. If ever there was a time, it was now.
“Alright, find Cathy and Birdie. Tex and Cal are probably in their cells, along with the other rotation, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, so do we leave and get help? I don’t know even know where their cells are.”
I did, but it wouldn’t do any good if we didn’t have keys. I hated it, but we needed to leave them behind.
For now.
“Yeah, we’ll find help and come back for them. They won’t be in trouble because they weren’t part of this.”
Rocky nodded. “And you know where Phoebe is?”
“Yup, I’ll get her,” I said. “You guys just get out.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan? Where do we meet?”
“There is no plan. Don’t wait for us. Just be safe and get out.”
We fist-bumped as we dashed toward the exit. A few feet short of it, we skidded to a halt. The warden stood in the doorway, a gun in hand, a half-dozen armed guards surrounding her. One of them was Nash.
All of my hopes—of finding Phoebe, of finding a way out of here, of finding freedom again—were dashed in an instant.
The warden and her goon squad didn’t look like they were messing around, and Nash could neutralize any of our powers. The other inmates didn’t seem to care.
The smell of sweat and blood was nausea-inducing as they moved toward rather than away from the immediate threat. I wasn’t sure how wise it was to fight back at this point, but perhaps they feared punishment more than potential death.
The warden glanced around as if looking for someone. Phoebe, maybe? That would imply she cared about her daughter. More likely she was looking for Warrick or Heath.
Well, whoever it was, she obviously didn’t find them. A quick motion, and she and the guards all affixed masks to their faces. Then one pulled out a tear gas canister and rolled it toward us.
That’s when all hell really broke loose.
Tear gas filled the room almost instantly, and the guards fanned out in every direction. Terrified screams filled my ears. I tried to breathe past the noxious fumes, but they stung my nose and mouth. My eyes, burning and watering, couldn’t even make out Rocky, and she’d been standing right next to me.
I moved in the direction I thought was the exit when a looming figure suddenly appeared before me. Without knowing whether it was a friendly or not, I didn’t engage. That mistake cost me.
Pain exploded behind my eyelids when the butt of a gun struck my face. I toppled over, having no time to recover before I was hit again, this time in the stomach. All the air left my lungs, which were already working overtime to try to breathe through the gas.
Coughing, with tears clouding my vision, I grabbed the guard’s leg and pulled. He fell to the ground next to me, and I quickly climbed on top of him then landed a series of punches until he blacked out.
His face mask must have slipped off in the melee, and squinting, I finally got a good look at him.
It was Nash.
Well, that was lucky. For us. Not so much for him.
I pushed up from the floor slowly, trying to get my bearings. Visibility had improved, though I wasn’t sure if it was because the tear gas had dissipated or my eyes were adjusting. Either way, I needed to get out of here.
Fang barreled into my line of sight just as I’d located the exit. A gun went off, and I instinctively ducked.
I looked up in time to see the warden aiming her weapon in Fang’s direction. Before she fired, one of his giant paws knocked the gun out of her grip. Another paw smacked her in the head, and she fell. If she made a sound, I didn’t hear it.
But I did see her rake a hand down Fang’s face as he loomed over her. “This is for my brother!” he growled.
Placing a paw against her chest to hold her down, he clamped his jaws around her neck and bit—hard.
“Wait!” I yelled.
But it was too late.
She struggled for just a moment before going still, the light leaving her wide eyes. Fang ripped his fangs out of her neck and roared, triumphant. “The Witch
is dead!” he cried out.
Shouts and cheers mingled with the screams and terrified cries of kids who still couldn’t see or breathe because of the tear gas.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off the warden.
She was dead.
Not that there was any love lost between the two of them, but that was still Phoebe’s mother. The woman who had brought her into this world just left it.
I wasn’t sure how Phoebe would take this news, and I wanted to be the one to tell her.
But I needed to find her first.
Stepping over the blood that pooled around the warden, I tore out of the rec room. Inmates ran up and down the halls, leaving a trail of destruction in their paths. I wondered if anyone had gotten out yet.
I sprinted toward the east wing, searching for the mysterious black door.
Was Phoebe even there? Had she found her father?
I hoped so. I knew how badly she wanted to know what had happened to him.
Just when I thought I would never find it, I did. The door was cracked open, which meant she’d gotten in. That was a good sign.
I opened it the rest of the way and froze.
She’d found him. He really was here.
And although it looked like he was in bad shape, at least he was alive. At least Phoebe wasn’t an orphan.
Her face lit up like it was Christmas when she saw me. But finding her, seeing her happy… that was the real present.
Mr. Atkinson was lying in a bed with machines hooked up to him, but he still managed an authoritative “Get out of here!” when he saw me.
Phoebe turned to him. “That’s Xander, Dad! You remember him, don’t you? He’s with me.”
He’s with me.
She probably didn’t mean that the way it sounded, but a guy could hope.
I stepped into the room and cleared my throat. “Good to see you, sir.”
Her dad squinted, and I pulled the door partly closed behind me. “Ah yes… Alexander.” He looked me up and down. All at once, I became aware of just how awful I looked. I wiped my sweaty, bloodied hands down my thighs, but now the front of my jumpsuit was covered in blood too. “You’ve, uh, grown up.”
