by Julian North
Drake flashed googly eyes at Alexander, then me. He was definitely off his rocker. Lindra saw it as well. Her finger rested uneasily on the trigger of her force rifle. She could mow us down with it in seconds. Landrew’s other ex-security officers stood to my left and right, a good ten feet away. I might be able to reach Lindra, but there was no way to get to the others before they fried me.
“You love birds have got to be more careful where you do your chatting. Did you really think Kris wasn’t going to notice her brother wandering off with the Latina temptress? Or that she didn’t have means to monitor her own home?” Drake chuckled again. “Okay, play time’s over. Give me the rods and your viser, runty. Play nice and I’ll deliver your thumbs to your daddy so he has something to remind him of you.”
Drake grabbed Nythan by the neck. I didn’t doubt that he would kill him, or any of us. The scent of madness lingered on him.
Our enemy had superior weaponry, and they had us in their power. Worse, all four were highborn. Kris had been careful. She understood the power of trilling. She had been doing it longer than anyone else. But she wasn’t a runner. Competition wasn’t in her blood. She hadn’t been calling on the power day after day, race after race, using everything to get ahead.
I knew what Alexander was thinking, and he knew that I was ready. I felt him gathering his power. I extended my hand and Alexander took it. Together, we attacked a highborn.
In my mind, I stood above a lake—a pool of my own life force. It represented every bit of strength I possessed, and I called it to me. It came into my lungs in a flood. I drew it up into my fingers, and through the bottoms of my feet. It swirled around me like a tornado. My head felt as if it would burst. I felt a tinge of madness, a place where the power would become my master rather than the other way around. I thought of Drake: he who had done nothing but ill to my friends and me. A person who reeked of hate.
My will came at him as a storm—a wall of thick, angry clouds advancing on the flaming sphere around Drake’s mind. Thunder announced my presence. Alexander was there as well: a great eagle of light, talons the size of a car and a wingspan wider than the East River. We charged towards the sphere of blazing fire shielding Drake’s mind. Blue flames crackled amid the crimson surface of the star. The power of the barrier pressed against my mind as I neared.
I sent a curtain of rain at Drake, tiny droplets of will that contacted the sphere in a flashing explosion of light. The wall of fire surged as I drew closer. Alexander’s eagle soared ahead of me, its talons extended, coming in to strafe the inferno. The silvery bird cried in pain as flares of boiling crimson erupted towards it. The eagle swept around, circling away from the scorching power of Drake’s defenses.
This was nothing like the other minds I had faced. With non-highborn, I could evade a mind’s defenses, find an opening in the wall and slip a punch inside like a nimble boxer. There was no opening in Drake’s mind. He was shielded by genetic manipulation. The only way through was to fight. But that wasn’t the greatest danger. When I pushed my will at Drake, his trilling ability responded in kind. We were joined by the power of our minds. This was to be a battle of wills. Either I would shatter his defenses and impose my dominance upon him, or my mind would break in the attempt. Drake’s sphere pulsed at the challenge. I met its call.
My storm spread out, as if opening its arms for an embrace. Clouds rolled forth in every direction, creating a blanket of storm. My tempest spread far enough that it could wrap around the entirety of the star before it. I came at Drake, an unstoppable sheet to smother the flames of his inferno.
The agony of a thousand knives met me. The crackling thunder of the storm gave expression to my agony. I had placed myself atop a boiling cauldron, and it hungered to consume me. Drake’s sphere shook and thrashed as I squeezed it. It was like the correction I had endured at the hands of the Authority, except more painful by an unimaginable margin. This was the moment of torment when soldiers cried out for their mothers, when they knew with certainty that death had come to claim them. But I had survived correction. And this time I was not alone.
Alexander’s eagle flew into my cloud of will, passing his power to me as it did so. A surge of energy swept through me like a tidal wave. For an instant I was within that place of chaotic power, delirious with energy. If a human could be a god, I was one in that moment. Drake’s fire collapsed as I smothered it with the force of two wills. What had been burning iron became glass. I pushed harder, driven by need, and by hate. The sphere shattered—a star that burned no more. The highborn who had been Drake Pillis-Smith became my puppet.
“The Rose-Hart men are your enemies. They will betray you. Kill them before they kill you. Kill them all,” I told Drake.
A force rifle flashed. Its deadly pulse fired almost too quickly for the human eye to see. I blinked and one of the Rose-Hart men had a hole through the center of his chest, his face frozen in mute horror. Drake spun at the second rifleman. Two highborn reflexes were matched against each other. Drake had surprise, but Landrew’s former guard had instinct drilled into him from years of service. They fired simultaneously. Drake shot at the other man’s head—in a flash, everything above the rifleman’s neck had simply been erased. But the dead can still exact vengeance. A blast from the headless shooter’s weapon cut through Drake’s left rib. Drake dropped to his knees, his weapon falling, both hands clutching the gash in his side.
I crashed into Lindra, shoulder first. I put all my strength into the jump, shoving off the ground and hurling myself headfirst against her unprotected side. I expected her to go down on impact. She didn’t. She staggered backwards, but stayed on her feet. I was trapped in an awkward bear hug position, struggling to keep her arms and the force rifle she held pinned against her chest. She thrashed like a bronco trying to throw its rider. I flew to the left, then the right, but I held on, my hands ghost white from the effort. What the hell was everyone else doing?
A hammer smashed into my forehead. No, not a hammer. Lindra’s skull. Blackness invaded my vision, like wet paint dripping from a canvas. Everything faded out. I fell backwards. Someone caught me before I hit the ground.
I woke up to find Mateo and Alexander looking down at me. Mateo had my head cradled in his lap. Lindra sat bloody and unconscious a short distance away. The wound looked bad. She wouldn’t make it.
“How do you feel?” Alexander asked.
“Same way you’d feel if someone had slammed a rock-filled head into your skull.” I rubbed my head. “How long was I out?”
“A couple of minutes,” Mateo told me. “We need to get out of here. We’ll carry you into the car.”
I forced myself up. A mistake. The world rushed at me, then spun in circles. I held out my arms for balance, biting my lip till I tasted blood. My vision steadied. I saw Mateo shaking his head. Drake was lying on the ground, bleeding badly. Inky had a force rifle pointed at the highborn’s face.
“Where’s Kortilla?” I demanded.
Drake’s eyes shut, then opened again. His stare was blank. It might have been his injury, or what Alexander and I had done to his mind. We hadn’t influenced him, or tricked him—we had broken him.
I got down on my knees. “I own you,” I whispered in his ear, pushing the burning cold of my will into him. “Tell me where Kris has taken Kortilla.”
Drake’s eyes moved, trying to focus. Streaks of blood ran through his pupils. Drool leaked from his mouth. “HRZ…” he croaked. His eyes shut. I felt for a pulse. Irregular, but still going.
“Why did she kill her father?”
Drake didn’t stir. I pushed my will deeper into him, looking for any consciousness still hiding within him. I found nothing. His heart might be beating, but the man was just a shell. He wouldn’t last much longer.
“What else does Kris want the controlColonies for?” Alexander demanded.
Nothing.
I stood, looking down at Drake. For him I felt no pity. Justice had found him, even if I was a flawed messenger.
“We could wait till the morning—” Alexander said.
“No way,” I answered. “If Drake doesn’t return, Kris will know something went wrong. We’ll never get to her then. She’ll use Kortilla against me, she’ll do anything to get the controlColonies. She wants control of Rose-Hart and the trilling gene. You told us how dangerous she is, how ruthless. We must go now.”
Alexander looked at me, his lips tight. After a moment, he nodded. “Lindra and the others worked security for my father. They were out at the estate in the HRZ with him. Which means they came into Manhattan today, which also means they had a way of getting back there.” Alexander rubbed his chin. “They must have used one of the Rose-Hart V-copters. Its transponder signal allows it to enter HRZ airspace without being shot down. Kris must have gotten flight plan approval from the Authority to enter Manhattan. She probably said the aircraft was carrying my father to the Allocators’ Ball. She must have secured approval for a route out of the city as well.”
My hopes rose. “Where would they have landed the aircraft?”
“All the commercial landing ports are closed for the Ball. The roof of my house is the logical place.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
We had four vehicles, but two were gas-powered jalopies banned below One Hundred and Tenth Street. A violation of Manhattan vehicle emission standards would ordinarily result in a fine, but tonight, with the Authority out in such force, we couldn’t risk a traffic stop. Alexander, Mateo, Inky, and I piled into the sleek sedan that belonged to Alexander’s family. Its tinted windows gave us full privacy, as long as we weren’t pulled over by an Authority patrol—unlikely in Rose-Hart’s vehicle. We each carried force rifles taken from Drake and his men, and had piled several more in the back. I was used to hating the people who held these things. It felt cold and ugly in my hand.
“I’ll take the other car with Kross and the rest of Mateo’s goons. I need to stop at my place,” Nythan said. “I’ve got some equipment we’ll need. And I want to secure the controlColonies and data.”
“What about Alissa and Lara?” Alexander asked.
I hesitated, conflicting emotions raging inside me. Alexander’s eyes were on me, assessing. “Drop them near the subway station, Nythan. I’ll tell them they need to find their own way home. There’s no sense in leaving them here for Rose-Hart.”
Nythan seemed relieved. “No problem.”
“We’ve got to hurry, Nythan,” I said. “Kortilla…”
“I hear you. Trust me, you’ll want my familiars in case of trouble,” Nythan said. “It’s important Kortilla realizes I’m the hero here. Don’t worry, it’s not far from my condo to Alexander’s place. It’ll take you some time to warm up the V-copter. I’ll be there ten minutes after you.”
We piled into the vehicles. Surface traffic was light, but drone patrols were heavy outside the Vision Quad. Alexander directed the sedan through the gate surrounding his estate, then into an underground garage. An aged attendant greeted us at the interior door leading to the house. His face turned ghost-like when he saw the force rifles.
“Not a word, Gibbs,” Alexander said. “No questions, and keep this quiet.”
“Of course,” he managed, wiping the shock from his face and restoring its original mask—the facade of someone in lifelong service.
“How do you know he’s not with Kris?” I asked Alexander once we were inside. “Or one of the others.”
“Gibbs? I’ve known him my whole life. He’s just—”
“A servant?” Mateo finished for him, contempt edging into his voice.
“Kris arranged for the V-copter to land on the roof of your house, for Drake and a bunch of goons to use it, and presumably take off again with us on board,” I pointed out.
Realization crept onto Alexander’s face.
“How many people in the house?”
“Three. The rest are out in the HRZ.”
“Keep them occupied. Tell them how important they are to you. Just keep them together till Nythan gets here.”
“What can he do?” Alexander asked.
“He’s the master of computer viruses. He spreads them the way Inky spreads germs. He can take out the house communications and power. And their visers.”
“They could still leave and find a way to contact her,” Mateo pointed out. “I’ll leave Kross here to keep an eye on them. He’s hurt anyway.”
“Kross? In charge of this place?” Inky said. “Oh yeah. He’ll take good care of it, don’t worry, rich boy.” His rotten teeth somehow managed to sparkle.
Nythan, Kross, and the rest of the Corazones arrived eight minutes after we did. Alexander wore a troubled frown but did what I asked. I didn’t imagine the staff liked having a street punk like Kross in here, much less being locked in a room with him. But Alexander gave the order. And Kross had a force rifle. Nythan duly released one of his viruses into the house network.
“I can’t believe you are actually asking me to do this.” He had a huge smile on his face. “To think, it’s a favor to trash the Foster-Rose-Hart private network.”
Alexander, Mateo, Nythan, and I headed to the roof, trailed by Inky and the rest of Mateo’s gang. There were two aircraft on the rooftop landing pad, both surrounded by a glowing circle of lights, their twin propeller turrets rotated upwards. The aircraft looked like larger versions of the drones I saw in the sky above BC most days, except with a bigger fuselage and engines. Twin rose helix markings adorned the sides of both machines. I couldn’t tell them apart. Alexander put his hand on each of the aircraft.
“This one is still warm,” he said. “It must be our bird.”
“You driving?” Nythan asked him. He had his Tuck bag slung over his shoulder. I presumed the familiars were inside.
“It’s got autopilot, but I can fly her, if necessary.”
I climbed into the co-pilot seat beside Alexander. Nythan, Mateo, and the Corazones occupied six of the ten plush loungers lining the rear of the aircraft. I fumbled with the seat belt, feeling foolish at my ineptitude.
“You’ve never flown before, have you?” Alexander asked me.
I clicked the safety harness into place. “Never had any place to go.” I looked over at him. “I’m sorry about your father.”
Alexander shook his head. “A father is something different than what I had. He provided material comfort, he expected a son he could display. He was a transactional man.” I thought I saw some pain in his eyes, despite the cold words. “Still, I didn’t think he would do something like the Culling. I cannot mourn him. Nor can I allow Kris to control Rose-Hart. Whatever her plans for the company, for those rods, she will not give it up. She does not accept defeat. Her desires cannot be sated.”
“You said she wasn’t always like this…”
His eyes tightened. “I’ve been thinking about that. Especially after what I witnessed tonight. It might be the power, Daniela. It started with that, I think, as I look back. That madness…Drake seemed to have been affected as well.”
I remembered what I’d experienced as I drew upon my will to defeat Drake. That intoxicating feeling. I hadn’t wanted to release it. My hands shook. People were not meant to have power such as we possessed. Perhaps there was a cost.
“If there is a way…to save her, I must do so,” Alexander told me. “She is my sister.”
I turned away from him. I understood that blood takes care of blood. I’d do the same for Mateo. But if I had to trade Kris for Kortilla, I would do it, regardless of what Alexander wanted. I hoped it didn’t come to that.
“Let’s go,” I said.
He turned his attention to the controls. Data scrolled across a virtual screen projected onto the front window. He flicked his fingers, syncing his viser with the aircraft.
“It’s got a pre-programmed flight path out of the city. Routing us due north, then east to the HRZ. Com
puters show about eighteen minutes of flying time.” The engines were making purring sounds as Alexander spoke. “Three minutes until takeoff. I’m signaling Manhattan control to let them know we’ll be airborne shortly.”
“What happens if your sister figures out it’s not Drake returning?” I asked.
“The house is equipped with defensive capabilities in case of a terrorist attack. Armed drones, as well as anti-aircraft countermeasures. If Kris wanted to shoot us down, she could. This is a transit model, not a fighter. It doesn’t have any weapons.”
“We need a better plan than that.”
“Then we’ve got about eighteen minutes to come up with one.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
Alexander let the autopilot have control. I watched the lights of Manhattan fade into the distance through the V-copter’s window. The city glittered within the outline of my likeness as we pulled away from the ground. I wore a face I barely recognized, one beset with fatigue and worry. It was a somber picture, despite the quiet beauty of the lights below.
Alexander sent schematics of the estate to our visers. It made his city house look like a backyard tent. A main house, two separate guest houses, a servants’ residence, two pools, tennis courts, and separate outdoor and indoor track facilities sprawled across a walled estate on a private oceanfront. I studied Alexander’s face when I should’ve been memorizing the building interiors. What did growing up with such luxury do to a person? I wondered what he’d think of Aba’s place.
A klaxon rang when we entered the restricted airspace of the HRZ. I gazed downward. Lights were sparse. But even without being able to see the details, I knew the homes below were luxurious, spacious, and used only occasionally by their owners. This was the countryside playground of the elite.
“We should just bomb the place,” Mateo said.
It was an emotional and stupid thing to say. Typical of Mateo. But I knew exactly how he felt. I doubted Alexander did.
“Four minutes till we reach estate airspace,” Alexander announced as he checked gauges and screens. Simulated images of the structures below appeared on the window in front of me: great expanses of watered grass, soil-planted trees, giant climate-regulated homes that could’ve housed the entirety of my Bronx City tenement.
