by A A Woods
She began to choke.
“You’ve picked the wrong side, you know,” Ricardo said to Aquila, holding Eliza so that half her body dangled over open air. She didn’t have the wherewithal to be afraid of the drop at her back as her focus telescoped to the crushing pressure on her trachea. “This one’s not worth your trouble.”
“Let. Her. Go,” Aquila said, dropping each word like a challenge.
“Come with me,” Ricardo said, pushing Eliza even further out. “I’ll let her live if you want, although it’s pointless to get attached. The end is coming for her kind. You know it’s true. Everyone does.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ricardo’s smile spread even wider, making him look like a Komodo dragon. Eliza scratched at the hand around her throat, tried to work it free, but it was no use.
He was killing her.
“Why do you think the world hates you so much?” Ricardo called over the roar of the helicopter still whirring behind them. “It’s an immune response, Aquila. It’s what happens when the power dynamic changes. We are the future, and they know it. Those people out there will do everything they can to keep you down and controlled. They’ll destroy you just to hold onto their precious status quo. Unless we take it from them. By force.”
Aquila was shaking as he stepped forward. “This is insane! I don’t want to take anything by force!”
“But you want to exist.”
“Of course I do!”
“Then you have no choice.”
“Let her go!” Aquila shouted, hands balled into fists. “I don’t care about any of this, just let her go!”
Ricardo’s mouth tightened into a straight line.
The corners of Eliza’s vision began to go dark.
“Then you’ve made your decision. But remember, Aquila. In the coming war, you’re either with us or against us. There is no middle ground. We fight for our right to exist, and we don’t tolerate traitors.”
Then, without warning, Ricardo pulled Eliza in, loosened his grip.
And shoved her off the roof.
Chapter Fifty-Two: The Rescue
It was an easy choice, of course. Aquila had made it already when he ran away from the attack on the ballroom. Really, he’d made it long before that. Eliza was everything for him. She was his anchor, his reason, his link to the world. Without her, nothing made sense.
Without her, there was no reason to save any of it.
He tucked in his wings and dove after the falling body, fully aware of Ricardo sprinting to the helicopter behind him. He didn’t care. Ricardo—and his war—could go to hell.
There was only one person Aquila wanted to fight for.
Pulled in as tight as a scalpel, Aquila sliced through the air. Eliza was kicking out, panicked, and the ground was coming up too fast, too hard.
Almost there, almost there.
Eliza screamed.
Aquila reached out, fingers grasping.
One floor down.
Two.
So few to go.
And then his hand wrapped around that piece of wood. He jerked her up. Eliza’s body arced, flailing, but he managed to get his other arm beneath her back just as his wings snapped out on either side of them, slowing the fall. Aquila rolled Eliza into his chest, clutching her to him as he let instinct guide his balance. The ground was close, but his body knew what to do. His wings knew how to fix this.
Just as his toes skimmed the ground, he managed to sweep out his whole wingspan to either side, pump down, and push them out of the alley and into the street.
Another powerful pump and they were soaring above the skyline, into the smoggy night air.
Eliza clutched at his shirt, still fighting to catch her breath. But Aquila felt calm for the first time since Eliza had disappeared. Her weight in his arms was a balm over his fear, his anger. Everything. She might be spooked and worried, maybe even hurt from whatever they’d done to her—tied to a bed!—but it was ok because she was here, and she was breathing, and everything would be alright.
It had to be.
“Aquila?” Eliza gasped as he stared into the distance, where a blinking light was disappearing in the clouds.
“He escaped,” Aquila answered, trying to muster the will to be upset about it. All he could feel was relief.
“Damn,” Eliza muttered.
He couldn’t help himself. Aquila burst out laughing.
“What?” she asked, indignant.
“You’re just so… you!”
“And what does that mean?” her voice was dangerous, but he kept chuckling.
“Nothing ever scares you, Eliza. No matter what happens, you’re always the toughest person in the room.”
Eliza seemed to wilt a little. “That’s not true.”
“What do you mean? You knocked that guy’s lights out.”
She took a deep breath, as if gathering herself for something. “You were right, Aquila. I wasn’t… I wasn’t well. I think Fitzgerald shook me more than I ever let on. I should have told you before we came to the city, but I didn’t want you to go alone. It was too much, and I didn’t want…”
“You wanted to be useful?” Aquila guessed.
She fell silent.
Sighing, he flew them to the nearest flat rooftop and settled them down, not releasing Eliza. She didn’t try to pull away.
He took comfort from that.
“It’s my fault too,” he said, looking down at her, more grateful than he could possibly explain that those eyes were still in his life, still blinking up at him with spitfire energy. “I cared more about keeping you safe than being a team. That was wrong.”
“You’re darn right it was!” she said, slapping his chest. But her smile was soft. Perhaps as relieved as his?
“I promise, I’ll explain everything that happened.”
Eliza nodded “Tomorrow. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“Right.”
They both looked out over the city and Aquila wondered if she was thinking the same thing as him. He suspected she was, because no matter how pretty the carpet of glittering lights below them might be, they both hated New York City.
“I can’t wait to go home,” Eliza said, as if she could read his mind.
“Luckily, I know exactly where Moose is.”
“Good,” Eliza said, half-laughing, half-growling. “Let’s go get him.”
But Aquila didn’t move. He wasn’t ready to face what they’d find back at the ballroom. Would there be bodies? Police? A mess of publicity and responsibilities?
Responsibilities Aquila had failed.
He swallowed. “I don’t think this is over. Not even close.”
“I know,” Eliza said, nestling into his torso.
“That guy is still out there. And whoever he was working for.”
“We’ll handle it,” she said, lifting her head. “Together.”
Aquila nodded. “Together.”
“No more leaving me behind, ok? Or I’ll just have to keep saving you.”
It was wonderful to let his laugh float away on the darkness and pretend, just for a moment, that everything was as it should be.
Chapter Fifty-Three: The Breaking Weight of Loss
Joe was sitting on the end of the stairs, letting the noise of the world crash over him like ocean waves. The tears still hadn’t come. He felt cavernously empty, like a hollowed-out pumpkin or a drained well. Numbly, he stared at the sprawling mass of cop cars and ambulances and body bags arrayed like a fan in front of the event-space entrance, not registering any of it. Tasha had disappeared, claiming she was getting them hot chocolates. But Joe suspected she’d left because she couldn’t stand to be out without her wig and her reporter’s badge, the shield she used against the world.
What shield would he use, with his parents gone?
No, he thought gulping air. Don’t go there. Not yet.
Joe had never really known grief. His grandmother had died when he was five. But for the most part, h
e’d been insulated from real tragedy in his life. It had been a reason to count himself lucky, back when he still tried to focus on the positive. Loving parents, money, health. Really, it was greedy to ask for more. Especially when he’d met Eliza and learned about the awful experience of losing her sister to cancer. Joe had been grateful. He’d been fortunate.
He wondered if that’s why everything had been taken from him so suddenly, like a rug being yanked out from beneath his feet. His luck had been stacked, one-sided, limited.
And had finally run out.
Moose edged up next to him, scrunching and then un-scrunching the hem of a very eccentric windbreaker. Joe would have mocked him for it, if… well, if things were different
“Hey man, are you ok? Never mind, dumb question, I know you’re not ok. I remember what it was like when Mom died, but this must be worse, because, you know. Wait, scratch that too, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say, this is just awful. All of it is awful…”
Moose’s stammering triggered something in Joe’s mind, a flashback to the moment when his father’s twitching body in his arms had been the only thing in the world that mattered. But even as he’d been focused, Joe’s brain, no longer average, had been cataloguing details. Listening for even the smallest of sounds.
“Back there,” Joe said slowly, cutting off Moose’s fumbled attempt to comfort him. “In the ballroom. You kept saying you were sorry. That it was your fault.” Joe turned to find Moose one step above him, immobile, wild hair dancing in the cold breeze and goggles flashing with the sirens. “What did you mean by that?”
For once, Moose was silent.
“Because Tasha told me you were involved in some stuff,” Joe went on, unable to stop the words. Did he even want to? “She said you were in over your head.”
Moose’s lip was trembling, but the goggles hid any sign of tears.
“Is this what she meant, Moose?” Joe asked in a dead, emotionless voice.
He didn’t respond for a long moment. Joe wasn’t sure which was worse: the silence or the fact that it told him the answer.
“Yes,” Moose finally whispered.
Joe turned away. “Why?”
“I thought… I wanted to be a hero. But you were right. I was on the wrong side.”
The laugh came sudden and sharp, almost manic. But Joe didn’t have it in him to fight it. A few of the nearest EMTs turned to look at him, as if worried that he’d lost it while waiting for the police to debrief him.
“I’m sorry, man,” Moose said, moving closer and continuing to twist the windbreaker. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t think. I didn’t ask the right questions. It turns out I’m an idiot on my own.”
“You said it…”
Joe’s laugh died out in a choke. He swallowed hard. A single, burning question was circling his brain like a tickertape: what now? He couldn’t just go back to normal. He wasn’t normal. Tasha had helped him understand that. And the world was so full of not-normal things that the idea of returning to his family apartment, or worse, Scottstown and just settling back into the shadow of who he used to be… he couldn’t.
It would be an insult to his parents.
For you, his dad had said.
He needed to understand what that meant.
“Joe?” Moose asked, and Joe realized that Moose had been talking this whole time.
He glimpsed Tasha on the edge of the crowd, carrying a satchel and two coffee cups, wig back in place.
All at once, he knew the answer.
Joe stood, making Moose scurry back a step. “Tell Eliza I’m ok,” Joe said, without turning, gaze fixed on Tasha. “Tell her not to look for me. When I’m ready, I’ll find her. I’ll find all of you.”
“Where are you going?” Moose asked, shifting nervously. “We’re supposed to talk to the police, they want to—”
“I have nothing to say to them that you don’t already know.”
It was a low blow, but Joe didn’t care. Right then, all he wanted was a way out.
And he knew exactly what it was.
He took the first step down, away, and it felt like the best kind of escape.
“Joe, wait!” Moose said, close behind him.
Finally, Joe turned.
It was strange that they were the same age, roughly, and about the same height. Moose looked so young. Maybe Joe looked like that too. Maybe they were all so much younger and more confused than they let on, and maybe life was just a big game of hiding that from those who would exploit it.
“Bye, Moose.”
And then Joe was striding down the stairs with purpose, with direction. It felt good to have a sense of where he was going, however vague. A mission that he could cling to in the storm of uncertainty his life had become.
Tasha offered him one of the coffee cups without a word.
He took it, looking into her eyes. “You said there were more like us. More Abnormals outside Hans’s control.”
Tasha’s eyebrows pulled together, as if that was the last thing she’d expected to hear from the kid who had just lost both his parents in less than an hour. “Yeah…”
“I want to find them. With you. Figure out who and where they are.”
“Why?”
“Because we shouldn’t be alone.”
If his reasoning made sense to her, she didn’t show it. She only ducked in, taking his free hand in hers and squeezing. “Are you sure? It won’t be the cushy high-story life you’re used to.”
Joe’s lips twitched. “You keep asking that. My answer is always the same.”
“You want to find the Alphas?” Tasha asked, but it wasn’t really a question. More like a rallying cry.
“I do, and the others like you who escaped Hans. I want to understand what’s going on, since I clearly didn’t before.”
“You might not like what you find.”
“I like you.”
The air itself seemed to slow and Joe didn’t care that it was the wrong moment or that Tasha intimidated him or that there were so many reasons to be sad and angry and aching right now. If anything, the proximity to death was a reminder. He’d regret the last moment with his parents for the rest of his life. He could never take back the harsh words, the slammed door. And he could never know when something else might get cut short.
He wasn’t going to regret missing out on Tasha.
Pulling her in by the hand tethering them together, Joe pressed his lips to hers. He was gratified by a quick flash of color across her skin, a widening of her eyes. And then she melted against him, their coffee cups bumping, their cold noses touching. She was the anchor he desperately needed, the direction he craved. As her lips moved against his and her hand tightened over his fingers and her warmth blazed a light in the empty cave of his heart, Joe knew that he’d never be ok and what happened tonight would always be with him, but he could learn to bear it. He could do it, because there was still some good in the world.
Finally, they pulled apart, both of them flushed. Their breath misted, cocooning them in a private, melancholy bliss.
“Let’s go cause some trouble,” Joe said.
Tasha grinned. “We’ll have to sneak away.”
“I’ll follow you.”
Her grip tightened once, like a heartbeat. “Then let’s get to it.”
Without looking back, Joe allowed Tasha to lead him away from the crime scene, away from his responsibilities, his friends, his whole life.
And into the unknown.
Chapter Fifty-Four: Growing Pains
A part of Moose wanted to die.
The other wanted to run away and never come back, see if he could be faster than all his problems. But even he knew that wasn’t possible.
There was no outrunning this.
Plopped on the stone steps, yanking his hands through his hair, he tried not to panic. The vast monstrosity of what he’d done felt inescapable. Would Aquila forgive him? Or Ian? What would Tero say, or Daisy?
What about Delilah?
He’d watched her get bundled into an ambulance and drive off to the hospital along with all the other survivors. Thankfully, there were precious few body bags. But they still loomed in Moose’s side-vision, as huge and hulking as the stone figures in Lord of the Rings. They dominated his mind, his thoughts, pulled everything in like gravity. He couldn’t stop looking at the two motionless shapes that were Joe’s parents, hidden behind plastic, forgotten and sad.
The worst part was the loneliness.
Joe was gone. Moose had let him go, watched him leave with the strange young woman with color-shifting skin. Like everything else, Moose had no idea if that had been the right thing to do. Maybe he should have stopped Joe, made him wait for the cops or Aquila or Eliza. But what did he know? How could he possibly tell anyone how to live their lives, after the colossal mess-up currently scattered around him.
He dug his fingers into his scalp, wishing he could rip off the skin and take out his brain and stop thinking, turn it all off. His mind had always been as wild and fast as his body, but it was so much worse now. Noisy in a whole new, painful sort of way.
There was a thump behind him, accompanied by a flurry of gasps from the people gathered at the base of the stairs. Moose didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. But he looked anyway.
It was Aquila, Eliza in his arms. They both looked tired, haggard, and worn, with marks around Eliza’s wrists and a pale cast to Aquila’s features that reminded Moose of the time they’d all had the flu together. Even so, there was a magnificence to his brother that was impossible to deny. He stood like an angel, tall and strong, wings glittering in the streetlamps.
If Aquila was an angel, what did that make him?
“Hey,” Moose rasped, rising slowly to his feet. He was moving sluggishly even by normal-person standards, limbs weighted with guilt.
Aquila didn’t answer, depositing Eliza on the stairs and grabbing her arm to keep her upright.
“Looks like they don’t care about you flying anymore,” Eliza said, jerking her chin at the nearest cluster of police officers, who were watching them with suspicion but not approaching.
