The Last City Box Set

by Logan Keys

  “How did you?” he asks, motioning to his painted chest, arms, and face.

  “The hair,” I reply sarcastically, his wolf eyes shining even brighter when we move into the shadows. “Phillip,” I say into his ear, then take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  “You sure?” he asks, then checks my glance, and with a smile, yells over the music, “Okay. That’s good news. I’ll have to get some things together. Meet me in two hours by the moat.”

  We separate just as brilliant, blue powder dumps onto the crowd.

  Someone waits for me at the exit—Cory, and he’s shirtless.

  The whiskey has made it impossible to pretend I don’t appreciate the male specimen that is Cory Prince.

  He’d also gone with camo war paint, probably to keep him from being recognized as a council member. From between the camouflage, sly blue eyes watch me. Handprints from dance partners, have smeared the paint on his chest. Many different ones, it seems.

  Cory makes fast work from ballroom to grinding the locals, I think, and he laughs out loud.

  When he approaches, I yell over the music, “I’m sorry,” then laugh at myself. Yes, he can hear my thoughts, but it needed to be said. “I really am.”

  I think about what a twit I’d been at the ball, about how embarrassed I am that I was so focused on my anger, Cory no doubt had a bad time.

  “Want to remedy that?” he says.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I nod and then take his hand. He leads us onto the dance floor, where drums play a tribal sound, and glitter instead of powder rains from the sky.

  Everything glimmers in the strobe light, and I gape at the ceiling, hold up my hands to catch the shining sprinkles, spinning in the glorious display until the whiskey in my stomach sloshes and I have to stop.

  When I look at Cory, he’s gold from head to toe. He locks fingers with mine, and without a smile, he edges closer.

  We sway, and the muscles of my tight shoulders ease into fluid looseness. This type of dancing is nothing like what we’d done at the ball. The stiff-necked, rigid-backed turns have changed to a sway, a give and take, a pull and push, a lips so close I can taste them, arms looped around one another, chest-to-chest pair of two that’s slowly melting into one.

  I leave my mind blank, but the feeling is known; I’m heating up, and he’s got to sense that.

  When we lock eyes, I notice his hold a purplish glow. A memory tries to unearth itself, and I shut it off, wanting to focus on the here and now.

  Cory tilts his head; a perfect gesture that lets us share breath.

  The next song is faster, interrupting the moment, and Cory’s eyes shift back to the same deep blue. I wonder if I was seeing things, but we dance and dance until I forget that I forgot.

  After I’ve sweated off most of my powder and glitter, and my hair has come loose from every pin, Cory helps guide me toward a tent opening where the cool air stops the spinning.

  He lifts the side so we can sneak under and into the breezy darkness. I suck in large mouthfuls of air until the buzzing subsides.

  Once we find a spot to sit, Cory turns to me. “What are you thinking?”

  I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Um. Well. Tonight, I found out I know French.”

  Cory nods. “Yes, I told you your mother was part French, did I not?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Hmmm,” he says thoughtfully, sliding closer, and then he whispers, “What are you doing, Liza?”

  “I’m going away,” I say, almost wishing I wasn’t.

  “Rushing off inebriated and pissed is a bad idea. Throwing your lot in with the Skulls, an even worse one.”

  “You know who they are?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I laugh, then fight a losing battle with a hiccup. “I’ll never get used to being around a mind reader.”

  Cory stares at me. “That’s not all I can do, you know.”

  “I bet.” My eyebrows jump.

  He laughs, touching my shoulder and then my chin. “I’m not sure I’m ready for you to leave either, to be honest. Plus, if we were to lose our perfect Special to Anthem, we’d lose it all.”

  I pull away. “Why haven’t you turned me in to Simon?”

  “Truth time, Liza? Is that it? Let’s swap. Why are you leaving? Because you truly think you should, or because you’re mad at Tommy?”

  I shrug. “Both. Truth time, Cory. Tell me why Tommy pulled the trigger.”

  He shrugs back. “I tricked him.”

  “One of the other things you can do.”

  “One such thing.”

  I tilt my head in question. “So candid.”

  Cory glances down. “I’ve grown a lot since the beach battle. So many died, and there was nothing I could do. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret what I did to Tommy. I even saved his life trying to make it up to him.”

  “Not to brag or anything.”

  Cory wraps his fingers around my wrists. “I want to be honest with you, Liza. It’s something I’ve never done. Not all the way, with anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of what I am. I’m capable of terrible things. No way to fix my mistakes, they’re part of me forever.”

  “You make yourself sound so bad, Cory. Is this how you always win people over?”

  His keen eyes level on me. “If you only knew.”

  For a moment, I see the truth as useless. I don’t think I want to know it all. Not about anyone, even myself. With this new world of despair, is anyone’s truth worth knowing? It’s all so … unforgivable.

  “You’re right, looking beyond the curtain might not be worth the risk.” And Cory gives a sad smile at my thoughts, gazing into the night. “I know that better than anyone does.” He seems to prepare to say something that bothers him deeply. “For a long time I was the devil, Liza, but now I’m just a man.”

  I tuck my hand into his, then bravely rub his cheek.

  “You’ll never be that,” I say, touching the edge of his mouth. “Your power … it’s incredible. I won’t lie. It’s intimidating, and kind of exciting. I don’t need you to confess anything to me.”

  I’m not sure if Cory or the whiskey or the night is tempting me, but one thing’s for sure: he is beautiful.

  “Thank you,” he says without humor, eyes bright in the dimness.

  Foggy images appear in my mind, and then clear: Me, in the hospital bed, asleep when I’d arrived, dirty, skinny, and roughened up by the trip. Me, walking next to Thomas my first day in La La, and then me at the ceremony, at the top of the stairs at the ball, and laughing as glitter rains from the sky.

  How I am right now.

  I look … beautiful.

  “More than that. Ethereal. Incandescent. A light from the harbor, shooting out into the sea of misery.”

  “Is that poetry?”

  “Do you like it? It’s something I’ve been thinking of writing down. Just a little thing I play with at times. I used to do it a lot.”

  “A poet?” A haze of something strikes me, then slips away. When I look back at Cory, my heart beats fast.

  He grabs my hand and presses it to his chest. “So is mine,” he says.

  “Why show me all of this?”

  “I trust you.”

  Three words I’ve longed to hear. They’ve been my Achilles heel ever since I woke up. I give in to our intimate setting laced with alcohol.

  I’m not sure who moves first, but we share the moonlight in silence until the space between us disappears. He gives me more than his mouth—Cory opens up his mind in a link between us. It’s thrilling, erotic, intoxicating…

  “Stop,” he puffs in and out. “Stop thinking.”

  I nod, and we both grip one another, kissing again.

  Try as I might, I can’t help thinking, at least of how I feel.

  Cory groans into my mouth, his body a tense rock beneath my hands that move restlessly.

  I want to push him away.

>   “No,” he whispers.

  He pulls me in until my legs straddle either side of him.

  Trying to keep my thoughts reined in, I focus on the music, dancing my hips slowly from side to side, front to back, as Cory kisses the breath out of me.

  This is a bad idea, because things quickly snowball. We dance, but we aren’t really dancing. We kiss, but we send messages far more than just kissing.

  I’m finally able to stop, to make him stop, just for a minute.

  Here I am, doing exactly what I’d been so pissed at Tommy for, just moments before: trusting someone else over me, and making me feel like what I say is insignificant. Tommy doesn’t like Cory, and by not listening, I feel like I’m being disloyal.

  “Before we … can you … hold on.”

  We stand apart, breathing, and he looks ready to attack me.

  I could attack him, too.

  I finally regain control of myself. “I need to ask you something.”

  Cory glares, incredulous at my interruption. “This sounds serious.”

  “It is. Can you get me past the gate?”

  He grows further annoyed. “Sure, why?”

  “You know why.”

  “I was trying to give you some privacy.” He tunes in. “What? Tommy’s probably already asleep anyway. He has to get up early for his speech.”

  I smack my forehead and begin to pace. What am I doing? I’m leaving in two—no, make that one hour. The speech. Oh my God, the speech!

  Tommy won’t be sleeping. He’ll be stressed out of his mind. And all the while, I’m making out with his enemy.

  “That’s harsh.”

  “Sorry. Is Tommy really going to call for war?”

  Cory stands and adjusts his shorts, making me avert my eyes.

  He’s giving up on us sitting in our hidden spot. “I hope so. If he doesn’t, he’ll be considered a traitor. It’s treason.”

  My insides tighten. I know now that I can’t do this. I can’t leave with us in a fight.

  “I need to see him.”

  Cory sighs, regret making the black paint stretch. He grabs my hand. “Come on.”

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Liza

  Tommy opens the door, and everything I wanted to say—I’m sorry; I trust you; I support you—falls limply to the floor.

  Baby’s behind him, half-dressed, and he’s staring at Cory in horror. Here I was overthinking all of my own decisions, when obviously, Tommy had moved on without a thought.

  I’d managed to put on some pants with my T-shirt, but Cory’s still bare-chested and dressed in his boxers. We’re both smeared with glitter and powder. Handprints on my arms and neck make it clear what we’d been doing.

  Tommy throws open the door the rest of the way. “I was just coming to find you,” he bites off.

  I gaze past him at Baby. “Sure looks like it.”

  Tommy’s eyes bug whenever he checks Cory over, as if he can make Cory’s clothes suddenly appear.

  I sniff at his outrage, sensing a hypocrisy I’m not prepared to deal with. But before any of us have a chance to react, Cory says, “Calm down, Hatter. It’s not like you were interested. I can read your mind.”

  With a choked sound, Tommy explodes and he punches Cory in the face, again and again, pummeling him before his body rips into transition.

  My expectation of blood splattering us from loss of a limb is not fulfilled, but all is forgotten as I imagine Tommy killing Cory. I scream, and Baby shouts, but in Tommy’s transition, the machine parts sustain him.

  I rush forward, trying to insert myself between the monster and my—date…?

  “Tommy, stop!”

  Baby’s next to me, unsure of what to do. She’s never seen this side of Tommy before.

  I lunge, jumping onto the beast’s back. “Change back!”

  The thing bucks beneath me and, reaching behind, pulls me over his head. Somehow, I land in a crouch on the ground.

  Using all of my strength, I rush forward, shoving him in the chest, but he roughly swats me away, hard enough to jar my bones and land me square on my back.

  The monster grabs Cory by the throat and lifts him off his feet.

  “No!” I scream, getting up.

  I wedge myself between them, force Cory behind me, while the monster’s other arm swings down, ready to smash me to pieces. It stops inches from my face.

  He freezes with a terrible growling noise.

  I focus my mind on the new strength I’d learned with Phillip and tackle the beast.

  From my blow to its stomach, it makes an oomph, but barely moves inches. Then he grabs on to me, until I twist free and attack again. This time, he rocks back and almost loses his footing.

  With a new dawning in the beast’s black eyes, we stare one another down, and I stand still, breathing heavily, ready to go at it again.

  “Change. Back,” I grit out.

  We challenge one another a moment longer before Tommy finally returns to his normal self. The look in his eyes is unbearable. Betrayal.

  “Can we have a minute alone?” I ask the others.

  Baby and Cory exchange looks before going inside.

  I’m still panting.

  “How did you—” he begins.

  I shake my head. “I’m learning—”

  “Is that how you got me here?”

  “Well, it’s not like it’s reliable; the monster isn’t exactly my friend, but kinda.”

  In a stream of garbled words, Tommy and I talk over one another.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “I should have—”

  “Let’s start over.”

  “Okay.” Tommy gives a deep sigh. “Let’s do that.”

  I let out a long breath I feel like I’ve been holding since we arrived in La La Land. “I never should have been angry with you. I’m the one who said to go. And I shouldn’t have brought up the soldier who died. Or stolen the diary, or—”

  Tommy rubs a hand through his hair. “And if I’d never taken you from the island, or brought you here, or made you think I didn’t trust you … I just left after joining the council. I tried to stay away because—”

  “I know. You were doing what you thought—”

  “It wasn’t safe.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  He reaches out like he wants to take my hand, but lets his fall. “I just wish there was more time.”

  “I know.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You’re going to call for war tomorrow?”

  He shrugs. “Simon will give me the speech, but…”

  “But what?”

  Tommy looks afraid to tell me. “The ambassadors brought an offer of peace, a treaty. I think we should explore it, but the council will never let me do that. I’ll have to tell the people that we’re going to war with the Authority. Now. I’ll have to tell them to fight … for the cause.”

  “Cause?”

  “Getting our home back,” he says, though he doesn’t seem convinced.

  “Do you honestly think Anthem is our home? There are a lot of reasons to fight—for freedom, unity, family; all of those make sense. But for a ‘cause’ that’s somewhat vague?”

  Tommy grows sullen. “Simon wants Anthem. It’s a real city. The citizens are controlled now, but we could help.”

  “You mean, if these people don’t get killed or captured trying.” In his defeat, I grab his hand, looking into his eyes. “If you need to take a stand for the lives of these people, then, Thomas Ripley Hatter, you do what’s right.”

  Tommy’s eyes sheen over with sadness, and a knot holds on to my throat. “What am I saying?” I tell him. I just encouraged him to go against the council.

  His hidden weariness blossoms, and Tommy looks desperately into my eyes.

  I fling myself across the small space, grabbing him in a hug, squeezing the life out of him. Or, rather, trying to keep it in him. “Don’t listen to me,” I murmur, the wetness of my voice com
ing through. “Stay safe, Tommy. I need you. They need you.”

  He grips me like a lifeline, pulling me higher to meet him halfway, and shudders out a breath. “I need you, too, Liza. So much.”

  Tears bleed out, plucked from my lids. They fall onto his shoulder.

  My whisper’s high and sloppy. “What have they done to us?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispers back.

  A shout interrupts us.

  Troops of soldiers run by just as Cory and Baby step outside, clearing their throats when they see our embrace.

  Instead of jumping apart, we untangle slowly, eyes locked, hearts full.

  “Sorry to interrupt you,” Cory says dryly, pointing up the street, “but I’m pretty sure something’s up.”

  He squints into the darkness, obviously listening to their thoughts, then frowns. “They’ve arrested the ambassadors.”

  “What?”

  Thomas rushes inside. He’s dressed in moments.

  “Take her back to her rooms!” he yells to Cory, running off into the night.

  I follow Baby inside as she pulls on her clothes. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  With one hand she motions to the rumpled bed while pulling up her pants with the other. “This, or with that?”

  “Any. All,” I reply, exasperated.

  She lays a weary hand on her brow. “Simon will kill the ambassadors. That’s what Simon does. Their kid, too.”

  “So, that’s where Tommy’s going.”

  “Probably.” She sighs, accepting the inevitable. “You don’t understand, Liza. Tommy … if he goes against the council…”

  She throws her hands up, then turns to leave.

  I stop her.

  “Do you love him?”

  She huffs out a dry laugh that doesn’t quite sound honest. “Don’t be ridiculous, Liza.”

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Dallas

  Joelle drags me out from under Joseph, where I would have stayed forever. She pulls me to my feet, while handing me one of Toby’s arrows.

  Before I can change my mind, I walk over and stab Joe’s heart. This time, no weak sound erupts from me. Then I turn to face Pike, and instantly he realizes his mistake. He wanted me to be a killer? Well, now I am.