by Aaron Hodges
Liz jumped back as the girl lashed at them, but Jasmine was too slow and a blow caught her square in the forehead. She staggered and dropped to one knee. Francesca landed on the stage with a thump and swung again, but Liz leapt in and deflected her blow before it struck Jasmine.
Growling, Francesca turned on Liz. Twisting, Liz leapt into the air, hoping to drop down on Francesca’s back as she stumbled past—but the other girl was too quick. Before Liz could slam her heel into the girl’s neck, Francesca was clear.
Liz hesitated. It was all the opening Francesca needed. Her hand shot out, her fingers closing around Liz’s ankle like iron. Liz screamed, her wings beating hard as she struggled to break free, but with terrifying strength, Francesca hauled her back down.
Their eyes met, and Francesca laughed. Another hand wrapped around her ankle, and Liz’s stomach lurched into her chest as Francesca swung her through the air. Liz shrieked as the ground came rushing up to meet her face.
A brilliant light flashed across Liz’s vision as she struck. Wind hissed between her teeth, the impact driving the breath from her lungs. But Francesca had at least released her ankle, and gasping, Liz rolled before the other girl could stomp her into the ground. Struggling to regain her feet, she turned and saw Jasmine going toe to toe with the Chead. A fist flashed for her friend’s face, but she ducked, and the blow caught only empty air. Then Jasmine charged, driving her shoulder into Francesca’s stomach. Before the Chead could pull free, Jasmine wrapped both arms around Francesca’s waist and lifted her into the air.
Seeing her opportunity, Liz launched herself forward, swinging at Francesca’s face. At the last moment, the girl twisted in Jasmine’s grip, and Liz’s fist slammed into the base of Jasmine’s skull. A low moan came from Jasmine as her eyes rolled back and she toppled to the carpeted floor.
Cackling, Francesca slipped free and spun. Her wing arched out and caught Liz square in the face. As she staggered, Francesca twisted again, her wing coming around for a second blow. Without thinking, Liz caught the bony limb in both hands.
Francesca screamed, her wing bucking as she tried to tear herself free. Liz stumbled several steps before she could dig in her heels. Grinning, she watched Francesca still. Their eyes met across the ten feet of feathers stretching between them. Then Liz wrapped both hands around the joint she’d caught, and wrenched.
The bones in Francesca’s wings were no match for Liz’s enhanced strength. They snapped like tissue paper, bending Francesca’s wing at an awful angle. The color drained from Francesca’s face as though sucked into a vacuum. An awful shriek escaped her throat as she thrashed, spinning across the stage, her eyes wild with pain and fury.
Liz leapt back, a few beats of her wings carrying her to safety. Francesca’s grey eyes followed her, and in a blind rage she tried to give chase. But her broken wing could not carry her, and Francesca screamed and crashed back down.
Glimpsing her opening, Liz launched herself on top of the fallen girl. She gasped as Francesca surged against her, the girl’s strength threatening to buck her off. Gritting her teeth, Liz clung on. Using her weight, she slammed the girl’s head into the carpet, but the blow did nothing to diminish Francesca’s strength. Catching a wing in the face, Liz almost lost her balance before she righted herself again.
Feeling her fury starting to build, Liz drove her fist into Francesca’s kidney. They couldn’t afford to sit here fighting. Though their fight had lasted less than a minute, the soldiers were drawing closer. She couldn’t understand why Paul and Francesca were helping the Director of their own free will—not after everything that had been done to them. How could they support the government that had kidnapped and tortured them, that had taken everything from them?
Choking on her rage, Liz struggled to control herself. She could feel her strength building, and the bloodlust that came with the Chead rage. Her stomach roiled, and before she had a chance to stop it, her vision turned red.
Screaming, Liz grabbed Francesca by the hair and wrenched back her head. The girl was fighting her still, but Liz drove her knee hard into the small of Francesca’s back, forcing her down. Then Liz gripped her by the hair and slammed her face into the ground, again and again, until the girl went limp beneath her.
Rage flickered in Liz’s chest as she released her foe, but Francesca wasn’t finished. She moved weakly beneath Liz, still trying to get back up. A growl built in Liz’s chest as she removed her gloves. Gripping Francesca by the hair once more, she slammed her face into the ground one last time.
Then, slowly, almost gently, Liz slid her hands from Francesca’s hair to the exposed nape of her neck. She felt the soft skin beneath her fingers, the fragile bones of Francesca’s spine as she squeezed. From behind, she could not cut off the girl’s air. But then, she didn’t need to.
Francesca’s flesh was warm to the touch. It felt good, to feel naked skin beneath her fingers again. It seemed an age since the night in the safe house with Chris. Her heart warmed at the memory, and its rapid thud slowed. Bit by bit, the red faded from her vision.
Only then did Liz realize Francesca was screaming. Pinned beneath Liz’s weight, she writhed against the floor, her broken wing flailing uselessly at her side. Liz gaped, taking long seconds to comprehend what she’d been trying to do. In horror, she released Francesca and leapt back, praying she wasn’t too late.
But Francesca’s struggles were already weakening, and her wings had fallen still. She managed to roll onto her back, but now veins bulged on her forehead and a trail of blood ran from her mouth and nose. All around her neck, her skin had turned an awful shade of purple.
Liz pressed a hand to her mouth as Francesca staggered to her knees. Blood-red eyes stared at Liz, tight with agony, filled with hate. She almost made it to her feet, but finally her strength gave way. With a long, drawn out moan, she toppled face-first to the ground.
Liz stood staring at Francesca’s lifeless body until a groan came from nearby. Struggling to shake off her horror, she saw Jasmine stirring and offered her friend a shoulder. They both took care not to let their skin touch.
“Good job,” Jasmine gasped as she stood.
Liz nodded. “Sorry…about this,” she offered lamely.
“Feels like you hit me in the head with a brick,” Jasmine coughed. There were tears in her eyes. “Where’s Chris and Ashley?”
59
Stars flashed across Chris’s vision as Paul’s fist collided with his chin. Raising his hands, he managed to deflect a second blow with a flick of his wrist, then spun on his heel and drove a back kick into the space where he hoped Paul was standing. He smiled with satisfaction as it connected and heard the whoosh of his foe’s lungs emptying.
Chris took a step back as the force of his kick pushed him off-balance. The stars faded from his vision and he found Paul half-doubled over. Their eyes met, and Paul’s lips drew back in a snarl. Black wings stretched wide to either side of him, dwarfing Chris’s own. Paul’s wingspan had to be close to thirty feet.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Paul,” he shouted. “Come with us. Let Sam explain.”
Paul laughed. “Oh don’t worry…he’ll get his chance—while I’m tearing those pretty wings…from his back.”
Growling, Paul took a step towards Chris—then froze. His eyes widened, and a moan whispered up from his throat. Over the pounding of blood in his ears, Chris heard someone screaming, and shot a glance behind him.
His fight with Paul had carried him to the opposite side of the stage, but the others were still grouped near the fire exit. Liz was on her feet, while nearby Jasmine crouched on her hands and knees. Ashley still stood beside the lectern, her lips parted, staring back at Chris in terror.
And Francesca was lying face down on the floor, unmoving.
Chris started to turn back as Paul gave a strangled howl, but even his enhanced reactions were too slow to block the boot that slammed into his chest. Something went crack—then Chris was tumbling backwards across the floor. A
gasp tore from his lips as he tried to sit up and felt a sharp pain stabbing into his lungs. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth.
Across the stage, Paul leapt after him, and Chris quickly rolled onto his feet. Paul’s grey eyes followed him, the last hints of sanity drained away. He was truly Chead now, consumed by anger, driven by a hatred that swept away all before it. Teeth bared, he stalked after Chris.
Bracing himself, Chris let him come. Every movement brought another jab from his chest, but he forced himself to ignore it. As the distance between them closed, Chris leapt. His foot flicked out and caught the larger boy square in the jaw. Paul’s head whipped back, but to Chris’s shock, he didn’t fall.
As he straightened, a dark grin spread across the larger boy’s face. Another blow slammed into Chris’s chest before he could retreat.
Red flashed across Chris’s vision as Paul’s fist connected with whatever had broken inside him, and he felt something tear. Struggling to breathe, he doubled up and staggered away—but Paul wasn’t about to let him recover. Fists raised, he stalked after Chris.
Gritting his teeth, Chris spread his wings and leapt into the air. He shrieked as the movement drove the broken rib deeper into his chest, but before he could lift off, something slammed into his wing and dragged him back down. The weight drove him face-first into the ground.
Before Chris could rise, Paul landed on his back.
“Going so soon?” Paul said, his grating voice almost metallic.
For a second the pressure on Chris’s back relented—then Paul’s boot came crashing down on his wing. Pain unlike anything Chris had experienced shot down the length of the new limb. He heard something go crack as Paul lifted his boot and stomped again. An awful scream tore from Chris’s throat. Desperately he tried to roll away, but with his wing pinned beneath his foe’s boot, there was no escape. An evil grin spread across the Paul’s face as he ground Chris’s wing into the floor.
A red mist circled Chris’s vision, and he felt something dark stirring within him. His consciousness flickered. He bared his teeth, and a low growl rumbled up from his chest. Craning his neck, he met Paul’s eyes—and the boy’s grin widened.
“Go on…give in—”
Paul’s words were cut off as, with a bloodcurdling scream, Ashley came barreling out of nowhere and sent him bouncing across the room. Her wings flared out as she landed, her tawny yellow eyes glowing like tiny moons. Red hair streaming down around her shoulders, she stood over Chris like an avenging angel.
Staggering across the stage, Paul’s stony eyes flashed with rage. Blood trickled from his mouth, but reaching up, he wiped it away.
“Run away, little girl,” he hissed. “Maybe I will let you live.”
Ashley laughed in his face. “Go on, then.”
His face darkening, Paul charged. At five-foot-one, Ashley looked like a child beside him, but she stood her ground. The fear had gone from her eyes, replaced by a cool determination, an unyielding will in the face of the boy’s fury.
At the last second before he struck, Ashley leapt, her wings beating down, lifting her tiny frame over Paul’s head. As he staggered past, her wings folded, and her heel slammed down into his neck.
Off-balance, the blow sent Paul to his knees. Grinning, Ashley landed gracefully behind him. She crossed her arms and watched him stumble back to his feet, a soft smile on her lips. Her amber eyes were aflame as she waited for his next move.
Chris looked around as Liz crouched beside him, her brow creased with concern. Jasmine had one arm draped over Liz’s shoulder and her eyes were slightly glazed, but Chris was relieved to see she was okay.
“Are you alright?” Liz asked.
His chest tightened. Inhaling, he felt the broken rib digging deeper into his flesh. His left wing hung limp beside him, twisted at an awful angle. A glance up the stairwell told him their time was almost out. Only a few dozen students still stood against the soldiers.
Reaching into his pocket, Chris retrieved the thumb drive and pressed it into Liz’s palm. “Take it. Get out of here.”
“What?” Liz’s eyes widened as she saw the thumb drive. “No, we’re not leaving you, Chris. Come on, get up, there’s still time.”
Chris staggered to his knees. Pain radiated through his body, robbing him of strength, but he reached out and gripped Liz by the shoulder. “I can’t fly, Liz,” he croaked. “He broke my wing. If I come with you, they’ll catch us all.”
“Then they catch us all,” Liz snapped, her eyes hardening.
She started to stand, but Chris caught her by the wrist and pulled her back down.
“No, Liz,” he said, blinking back tears. “You need to live. You need to show the world what’s on that drive, tell them what they did to us. Make all this mean something.”
“But what about you?” Liz’s voice cracked, and he could see the tears she was struggling to hold back. “I can’t leave you like this. I…I love you, Chris.
Chris squeezed her wrist. Pulling her forward, he kissed her, hard and fast. His heartbeat quickened, and for a second his pain lessened—but when they broke apart, it returned two-fold. Biting back a scream, he gathered his feet beneath him and stood.
“I love you, too,” he murmured, stroking her cheek, “but you still have to go.”
For a long moment, he thought she would not reply. “I’ll come back for you,” she said finally, her voice breaking.
“No, Liz,” Chris croaked. “I won’t let them take me, not again.” He forced himself to turn away. If he looked into her eyes any longer, he would never be able to do what was needed.
“Chris…”
“Go, Liz,” he said again, swallowing his grief. “I’ll distract him, so Ashley can follow you. Go!”
Across the stage, Ashley was running loops around Paul. Every time he attacked, she would dance clear, and he would stagger from another well-placed blow. Even as Chris watched, Paul leapt again, and earned a fist to the face and a knee to the groin for his efforts. Wheezing, he fell to the ground.
Steeling himself, Chris walked away from Liz and Jasmine. As he neared Ashley, Chris searched for an opening. He only needed to distract Paul for a second, but he had to act now. The last few students were crumbling, almost giving the soldiers a clear shot. A quick glance around reassured him Liz and Jasmine were almost to the exit.
Leaping to his feet, Paul began to circle Ashley. His face was bleeding from a dozen cuts and his chest was heaving, but he showed no signs of backing down.
Before Paul could attack again, Chris leapt forward, placing himself squarely between the two fighters. Paul’s eyes widened and for a second, he hesitated. Chris took his opportunity.
“Go!” he screamed back at Ashley.
Then he faced Paul, and charged.
Paul’s surprise turned to amusement as he watched Chris approach, but there was no turning back now. Fire lanced Chris’s chest as he bounded forward. Twisting, he swung a punch at Paul’s face.
Paul only grinned as he caught Chris by the wrist. Chris’s heart fell into his stomach as the larger boy yanked him forward into a headbutt. White light flashed across his eyes as he fell to the ground.
Blinking, Chris tried to regain his feet, but the strength had fled his limbs, and when his vision cleared, he was still lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. A dull ringing sounded in his ears and he could hear distant voices. Then Paul’s face appeared overhead, and Chris saw his own death reflected in the empty grey eyes. Letting out a pained breath, he waited for it to come.
Instead, there was a soft thud as Ashley came barreling into Paul. The larger boy stumbled back from the force of her attack, but Ashley was half his weight, and her attack had only stunned him. Snarling, Ashley chased after him and slammed a kick into his chest.
Paul was still recovering, and this time the blow put him flat on his back. Racing in, Ashley stamped her boot down on his face. There was a sickening crunch as his nose broke. Grinning, Ashley glanced at Chris. Before he
could warn her, Paul’s hand shot out and caught her by the ankle.
Ashley screamed as Paul surged to his feet, taking her foot with him. Thrown off-balance, Ashley was lifted high into the air—then slammed face-first into the ground. Paul released her ankle and dove at her, attempting to pin Ashley beneath his bulk. But Ashley had already recovered. Her wings contracting, she rolled to the side, and Paul slammed into the carpet.
Coming to her feet, Ashley fixed Paul in her sights and charged. Her eyes remained the same tawny yellow as always, but there was a glow to them that reminded Chris of the rage he’d seen when Liz and Jasmine had turned. Yet this was different somehow, controlled—as though Ashley had taken all her pain and fear and insecurity and turn them into strength.
Paul managed to stagger to his feet—then Ashley was on him. Raising a fist, he attempted to deflect her blow. A sharp crack rang through the lecture theatre as her knuckles caught his elbow. Paul screamed, his hand going to his arm as he tried to retreat. Ashley came after him, her eyes simmering. Her next blow caught him square in the forehead.
Chris flinched at the crunch that marked the impact. He watched, mouth hanging open, as the light in Paul’s eyes faded to nothing, and he slowly toppled backwards. The dark-winged boy made no effort to break his fall, and with a sense of horror, Chris realized he was dead. His gaze was drawn back to Ashley. She stood over her fallen foe, chest heaving, white wings trembling with each inhalation. Fists clenched, she stared at Paul, as though waiting for him to get back up. But he lay unmoving, eyes blank, unseeing.
Coming to his feet, Chris crossed the stage to Ashley. She looked up as he approached. As their eyes met, the tension seemed to rush from Ashley’s body. She staggered where she stood, and Chris barely made it in time to catch her before she fell. Agony sliced his chest, but he held her close and looked around.
To his relief, there was no sign of Liz or Jasmine, but while the fight had only lasted a few minutes, their time was up. On the staircase, the last of the students were on the ground. Many of them sported injuries, but there was no more time to consider their fate. The soldiers poured onto the stage, their guns held ready as they formed a semicircle around Chris and Ashley.
