by Julian North
“You ready, Nythan?” Alexander called out.
“Just keep flying,” Nythan replied. “I’ll be ready.”
Alexander restored the aircraft to manual flight mode. He pointed the control stick downward. The klaxon sounded.
“Please be advised that you have deviated from your pre-planned flight path,” said the U-cab lady’s twin sister.
The ground leaped upwards as Alexander pressed down on the controls. The aircraft began to jump like a bicycle over rocky ground. The engines took on an unruly tone.
“Air turbulence,” Alexander told us unnecessarily. “Can your little boys handle this, Nythan?”
“You do your job, I’ll do mine.”
The plane plunged violently, as if a giant hand had slapped it from above. If I’d had anything left in my stomach, I would’ve shared it with the floor.
“You have dropped below the recommended cruising altitude for this aircraft. Safety protocols will engage in three, two…”
“Override,” Alexander barked.
Even in the darkness, I could feel how close we were to the ground. The lights were no more than twenty feet below us. The aircraft jerked up, down, then to the side. The unhappy groaning of the engines was near deafening as they strained to deal with the wind conditions. Alexander gripped the control stick with both hands, eyes focused on the engine readouts.
“Almost there,” Alexander yelled.
The aircraft yelled back. An angry alarm sounded, piercing and urgent. The cockpit lights flashed an ugly red.
“Foreign objects on a collision course with this aircraft. You are advised to alter course immediately.”
“Missiles incoming, Nythan,” Alexander shouted.
“Open the frakkin’ door, then!” Nythan called back.
Alexander flicked the fingers on his visered hand even as he continued to wrestle with the control stick. Frigid wind swept into the aircraft like an avalanche down a mountain. The noise was deafening. My lungs burned as the icy air filled them.
A radar image appeared on the window in front of me, an infrared visual beside it. On the screen, the missiles looked like black spears, the heat of their engine fire flashing red behind them. The distance between us and the projectiles dwindled. Two thousand, one thousand, five hundred. Alexander yanked the stick; the aircraft banked hard to the left. The missiles veered right, following the floating familiar Nythan had hurled out the door. The smaller machine’s phantom transmission tempted the missiles like red meat for a hound.
Alexander pulled hard on the control. The engines raged in agony. I was hurled forward, the restraints saving me from an unpleasant meeting with the panel in front of me. The aircraft slowed far quicker than I would’ve thought possible. I heard the engines rotate into a vertical position. Then an explosion erupted to my right—a cascade of angry color. The aircraft shook again. Debris struck our hull, the sound like hail on a flimsy roof.
“That should foul up their infrared for a bit,” Nythan said. “Take us down.”
The engines were in vertical landing mode. Alexander eased us down onto the lush grass of the Foster-Rose-Hart estate. The aircraft gave a final jolt, then was still. The silence that followed was disconcerting. I could hear ocean waves crashing on a nearby beach.
“They might think they got us, at least for a couple of minutes,” Alexander said. “But Nythan, you better get little drone number two moving.”
“Already on his way, big boy.”
Alexander and I slid out of our seats, heading for the exits. Mateo and I clasped hands as I stood at the door.
“Careful, sis’,” he told me. “You only think you’re indestructible.”
“You too. Bail me out if I get into trouble.”
Alexander swung himself out the exit, down the ladder, disappearing into the night. I followed. I heard Mateo barking at his men as my feet touched the ground. Alexander and I had left our rifles behind. There was no choice given Nythan’s plan.
“Make sure Kortilla knows it was my drones, my idea,” he called out to us.
I could see the lights of the main house about a thousand meters away. The engines of Nythan’s familiar hovered behind us, emitting a steady hum. Salty gusts whipped across my face.
“Let’s go,” I said, taking off at a full sprint. Alexander did the same.
We ran parallel for the first one hundred meters. Running beside Alexander was like running beside a train. Perfect rhythm, perfect strides. It was also a stupid risk. I swerved away, heading right. He banked left. We lost each other in the darkness.
I forced myself to keep swerving as I ran. The cut grass was soft and slightly damp. I took my speed down a notch, worried about my footing as I dashed in random directions. Five hundred meters left. I imagined infrared scopes searching through the darkness, gunmen on the house’s balcony hungry for a kill. I wasn’t wrong. My spider-sense jolted a warning just in time for me to dive to the ground, sliding forward on the grass. The area behind me flashed and sizzled as if struck by lightning. Another volley of force blasts erupted, these coming from at least one hundred meters behind me as Mateo, Nythan, and the others opened fire. They didn’t have night-vision scopes, but they could shoot at the flashes. I heard Nythan’s drone flying past me. I rolled to my left, then hurried to my feet, pouring on the speed. I swerved left some more, then to the right again. More rifle flashes. Two blazes pulsed to my left. Probably at Alexander. More lightning crackled towards the darkness behind me, trying to quiet our covering fire. Two hundred meters left. I was an easy target this close. Floodlights clicked on, turning the night into day. I hit the ground, rolling as quickly as I could. My spider-sense rang in my head like a hundred church bells. A force rifle discharge roasted the grass six inches to my left. More covering fire rang out, blast after blast. The weapons’ impact had punched several gaping holes in the walls of the house. A small fire burned inside. The walls were flame resistant, but not the interior furnishings. The rich did like their expensive antiques. Another explosion to my left targeted Alexander. They had us. But darkness surged forth to save us.
Nythan’s familiar had gotten close enough to work its magic. The wave it unleashed was silent, but magnificently potent. No more lights, no more computers, no more visers, no more force rifles. It was all dead. Anything with a power core in the path of the pulse wave was extinguished. Eat that, Kristolan—bet you didn’t see a directional EMP blast coming.
I got to my feet, dashing the remaining distance to the house. Alexander met me at one of the breaches. I squeezed his shoulder in darkness. I smelled smoke. The fire-suppression system would have been knocked out too. I clenched and unclenched my fists, impatient for Mateo to arrive. The ten seconds it took felt like an hour before my brother and the Corazones emerged from the darkness.
“Keep a perimeter—at least twenty feet back. Spread out, keep away from the house,” I reminded them. “Smart and stubborn doesn’t mean you can’t be trilled. Kris is powerful. Give us the light sticks and two functional pulse rifles.”
“Dee, let me go in. There is no way some highborn is controlling my mind,” Mateo insisted. “Kortilla is my blood too.”
I wrapped a hand around the back of my brother’s neck. “I know you’re family with her, Mateo. But please, listen to me, like you have never done before, hermano. Kristolan will own you if you come near her. The way I owned Drake in the garage. I can handle anything in there, except losing you or Kortilla. You and your boys cover the exits. Make sure she doesn’t try to get out with Kortilla. You hear me?”
“I hear,” Mateo grumbled. I released him.
“Let’s go get Kortilla,” I said to Alexander.
“If there is a way, without harming Kris, we take it,” he replied.
I nodded, but it was a lie. I wasn’t any less determined to do whatever had to be done.
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
We climbed into the blast hole, both of us with force rifles in hand, light sticks slung aro
und our necks. The gun was heavy, strange. I knew how to pull a trigger, but I didn’t have much faith in my aim. I’d never shot a gun before, much less a force rifle. Still, I was glad to have it, particularly since Kris didn’t have one that worked anymore.
“Lifts will be out,” Alexander whispered. “Which means the stairs are the only way in or out. The central staircase is straight ahead, then take your first right. There’s back stairs as well. She might try to get out that way. I’ll take it. The family suites are on the third floor. Kris likes grand spaces. She’ll be up there, either in our father’s room or her own.”
“I’ll see you up there,” I told him, my words more confident than my legs.
I followed Alexander’s directions, picking my way carefully through the near darkness, both hands on the rifle. I reached the main staircase and gazed upwards. It was a switch-back construction, with elaborate handrails and thick carpets covering the steps. I began to climb. There was smoke on the second floor. It wasn’t critical yet, but time was running short.
I heard a force rifle blast in the distance. Then a second. Maybe some of Kris’s men trying to leave. Kris probably paid well, but sticking around unarmed in a burning house that was under attack was a hard call to answer.
I kept climbing, step-by-step. Even with the light stick, I couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of me. The acrid air made my eyes water. A sound to my right made me spin. I raised the rifle. Someone was running through the dark, coming hard. My finger twitched on the trigger, my mind raced. Kris would never come at me this way. I hesitated. Kortilla exploded out of the night. She came right at me, arms out, her face crazed.
“K—wait!” I yelled. It was no use.
She grabbed the rifle. Her hands struggled with mine. I needed to calm her down. But if I took my mind off the fight, Kortilla was going to blow my head off. Her hand fought with mine at the trigger. We shoved each other, the rifle wedged between us. There was only one way to do this. I told myself Kortilla would understand. I took a step backwards, turning to my side as I did. Kortilla, in her agitated state, didn’t anticipate the move. Her strength and momentum sent her flying past me toward the stairs. She missed the first step in the darkness, as I knew she would. I caught the back of her shirt as she fell forward, enough to slow her down. I needed a bit of space, but I didn’t want her to end up with a broken neck. Once I saw Kortilla’s hands were in front of her, I let go. She’d be on me again in a few moments, but that was all I needed.
I gathered my will. Smoke rose from the floor below. My spider-sense wanted me out of here. I felt dizzy, but managed to find the cold within. I drew the essence, preparing to strike at my friend, my sister. For her own good. Even if it drove me mad. That was when I felt the blade press against my neck. Kris dug the pointy tip through the Korean skin I wore, into the flesh of my collar bone—not too deep, just enough to draw blood. A message.
“Grab the gun,” Kris ordered.
The strong hands emerged from the polluted mist around me and took my force rifle. Kris’s goon had a shaved head, a swollen face, and nothing but hate in his eyes.
Kortilla emerged from the staircase, her face contorted like a hissing cat. She flexed her fingers as if they were claws.
“Easy, pet, I’ve got our enemy under control now,” Kris crooned. “Keep an eye out for her wicked friends—and my brother.”
Kortilla took a last, hungry look at me before disappearing into the darkness to do her master’s bidding. I seethed in Kris’s clutches. “What did you do to her?”
Kris giggled like a dinner bell, the sound light, and sickly merry. “The power can be used…creatively. It is so much more than you realize. How many are still out there?”
“Six, all armed with ranged weapons. Far away and hidden in the dark. I know the limits of your power. Every vehicle within ten miles has been fried by the EMP blast, except the V-copter. You’re not getting out of here. Either you burn alive in this house or get roasted by force blasts outside.”
“Not with you and Kortilla as my hostages,” Kris said. “That’s your blood out there, right? Your brother and his gang. Oh, I know them well. They aren’t going to risk you two precious things getting hurt.”
I spat, defying the blade at my throat. “They won’t let you escape. And there are too many out there for you to trill. Mateo defied your power before, in the Manhattan safe house when you tried to arrange the assassination of your father.”
She scoffed at my accusation, but it was half-hearted. I wondered if Alexander was nearby. It was too dark in here for him to fire, even if he was close. Even if he was willing to shoot his sister.
“Why kill Landrew now? So public—not like you at all,” I goaded.
“I was saving myself. The bastard found out I could trill. You didn’t know my father. He could never allow a power like that to exist out of his control. He was planning to chip me. My own father. He had some experimental device developed by the Koreans to use on me. He would’ve done the same to you, once he found out what you are. You should be thanking me.”
“And what do you plan to do with the controlColonies?” I sneered, although she couldn’t see it. “I sense your hunger. You are no better than your father.”
She answered by pressing her blade harder. “I just need to walk out of here, and you’re going to help me.”
She shoved me towards the stairs. I took a single step then pushed back. The smoke was spreading upwards.
“You richies don’t get the barrio. Never will. Mateo isn’t going to let you take me anywhere, nor Kortilla. I might die when Mateo and his boys take you down, but you’re not leaving this place alive. Those are their orders.”
I sensed the power within her. Her mind probed mine. I opened myself to her as much as I dared, the power within our minds drawing us together, as it had with Drake. “You know I’m telling the truth.”
“Then we’ll die together,” Kris told me. “It is too bad it ends like this. We could have helped each other. I could have been your teacher.” She let a hint of fanaticism creep into her voice. She sounded convincing.
But I knew she lied. Her mind was so close to mine. Emotion raged within her. I sensed her. She was a great actress. She could shape her words into any form, making them as hard or bitter or sweet as she chose. But she did not want to die. She feared leaving this world, the way a child fears relinquishing a precious toy.
“A bargain,” I offered to her, letting her hear fear as I spoke.
“What bargain?” Kris spat her wariness.
“Kortilla, Mateo, and Alexander go free, no harm comes to the rest of the Corazones. In exchange, you get everything you want.”
Her blade pressed at me again. “I thought you were an AT genius. Are you an idiot, or do you think I’m one? How do you have anything I want?’
“You want to be the singular voice in the night. To have this world for yourself, gazing down on all you survey. Nothing less will satisfy you, and I can deliver it. I will give myself to you. My mind becomes yours, a slave to your will. No chip required.”
Kris’s breathing stopped. “How?”
“I’ll lower my defenses. Highborn can be trilled. Alexander and I did it, with Drake. That’s how we got here. Even genetically enhanced mental defenses can be breached by multiple powerful minds. Or if the subject is willing. I’ll lower my barrier and give my mind to you. In exchange for my brother’s life, and my sister Kortilla’s, and the others I care about. And for your promise to use the controlColonies to find a cure for the Waste. Its location is in my mind. Stop the Culling. You don’t need it. You will be the master triller, the only person in the world to develop the power. And you will have the controlColonies. There will never be another like you.” I reached out with my mind, trying to sense Alexander. I hoped he would understand what I had to do. He had to be there, but I could feel nothing except Kristolan’s twisted desires.
“You lie,” Kris accused, but her declaration was laced with suppressed longing
. I offered the fruit of Eden. “Why would you willingly become a slave? You are like Alexander—a fighter, a creature of honor, a fool.”
“There can only be one chosen, one queen. So I am already dead, one way or another.” I sucked at the foul air, letting desperation inundate my voice. “I choose to give my life for those it has always belonged to: Mateo, Kortilla, my blood. You feel the truth of my words: I have lived only for Mateo. Everything I have ever done, coming to Tuck, helping Havelock, it was to save my brother. And I failed. This is my last chance.” I opened more of my mind to her, letting her sense this part of me, the deepest core of my being.
Kris ached for my promise to be true. But she was also a master of deception—wary of others who might try to wield lies against her. “You speak the truth about your brother, but that is not the same as being willing to become a slave.”
“I open myself to you now. There is nothing more for you to believe or disbelieve. My mind is yours. You need only take the briefest glance and it is done. The truth is before you.”
I opened my mind to Kristolan. My body shook as I did it. I was opening myself to something worse than death. I hid my last bit of hope in a tiny corner of myself, a place that I thought she would not see.
Around me was a sphere, the barrier of ice that engulfed me. It was not a single piece, but hundreds of layers of varying density and temperature, each rotating to form a single, impenetrable wall of impossible strength. Steam rose from its crystalline surface. I had lived my life within its protective shell. Now, I commanded it to open. It was like stepping outside in a blizzard naked. In that moment, I was alone as I’d ever been.
A tiny hole formed on one side of the ice. A tunnel to my mind. Reluctantly, it grew, widening like a sinkhole in the earth, swallowing the hard-forged defenses of my being. What began as a mere pinprick became a crack, then a portal so massive that it made a slicing arc through the shell surrounding me. The gaping hole begged Kristolan to come collar me.
