by Logan Keys
The rest have gathered along the wall to watch the battle.
Pike doesn’t wait. He lunges for me, and I try to fight him off, but it’s like warring a tsunami; he’s so powerful, I can barely keep him from killing me in seconds.
I’ll soon be like Joseph, and I welcome that. But Joelle has other plans.
Like the mother that she is to us all, Joelle moves too fast to see, swiftly forcing her creation, Pike, onto the ground. He makes an awful sound, his throat open, like a second, gaping smile. He gasps in shock and anger for air that he doesn’t need.
Others come forward to aid him, but Joelle flings one hand, making them stop in their tracks.
“Enough,” she says, her voice echoing through the woods.
Power ripples through us all.
Pike heals and rises, expression a twisted mask of hatred. “You need me,” he says. “I’m your first—your strongest!” Then his face folds, and he looks young, confused.
“You need me!” he shouts, though this time it sounds fearful.
He rushes at Joelle, haphazardly, too upset to focus.
Joelle changes from the wispy girl into a wretched thing, all claws and fangs, and she roars at Pike’s fledglings, who tear away from her, while she slashes Pike to ribbons with every move he makes, punishing him like an errant child.
She screams anger, frustration, maybe even teenaged hormones. Perhaps the universe didn’t give even a vampire a break on that.
“You can’t kill me! You’ll need me!” he says, begging now.
Pike strikes her across the cheek, leaving three longs scratches, which she takes. At first, I think she’s given up, until I see she holds his heart in her hand.
She clenches her fist, and Pike’s eyes roll back into his head. “Wrong,” she says. “I just need them.”
I hold the wood out to her, but she shakes her head, concentrating on her hand. The heart bursts into flames.
Pike falls, and the woods are still once again.
The other vampires gather around us in a circle, bowing their heads to their new leader.
Then we turn to see the sun rising.
One by one, the rest of the vampires fade back into the woods.
“Can you control them?” I ask. “At a distance, I mean.”
“I’m not sure.”
She watches them go, but I see she’s not ready to kill the whole group. She feels guilt over Pike.
“Come on,” I tell her. “I know of a place for us today.”
I lead her through the charred ruins of the town where, at the far end, my old cottage I’d shared with Cara still stands.
Joelle enters the house like it’s been a long time since she’s walked on a wooden floor; her bare feet stretch, and a glow I’ve not seen enters her cheeks. Childlike sleepiness. She’s been so wild for so long.
With a gutted look she stares at the bed.
“She’s all yours,” I say.
We block out the windows and settle in for the day.
Joelle falls soundly asleep, but I’m not ready to let the echo of the night fade into nothingness.
Joe’s gone, finally and truly, but so is Toby. Bittersweet. Pike’s also no longer a plague on my mind.
Where will we go? I wonder. Anthem? Los Angeles? If Joelle’s right, our power will be exploited there.
I look over at the bed, watch the rise and fall of my new friend’s chest. “Don’t worry, Tommy,” I whisper. “I’ll take care of your girl.”
Chapter Eighty-Six
Tommy
The morning of my announcement dawns in a creeping, sneaking kind of way, as if the sun knows the evil from the previous night. The council’s become a human prison with each of them watching me, keeping me from getting in the way, ensuring I do my job.
The first move was arresting the ambassadors, who are now both in Simon’s custody. But they can’t find the child. At least, that’s one small miracle.
In a vulgar display of power, Simon will hang the two ambassadors after my speech, and each step I take toward the podium feels like my feet are already sticky with blood. I’d negotiated with them, promised safety, and now they think I’ve turned them over to the council for sabotage.
Simon’s tried to appeal to my rationale, saying the Authority declared war long ago, and that’s the truth. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stop the cycle, though. Doesn’t mean we kill people who come in peace, their children.
I get to my place at the top of the steps, and when the panic ascends, I focus on the image of Liza’s face from last night, of her hugging me in forgiveness. They’ve called us to fight for a distant city, while, that moment, in the perfect embrace of a trusted friend, I was home.
The ceremony’s big—the internationals are here, and the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd relies on me to tell the truth, to give them the call for war. Some are still exhausted from parties that have just ended, and they stand patiently, ears and eyes on the podium.
Baby’s behind me. She’s been quiet, pensive, avoiding anything besides my speech notes today. She’s made sure to give them to me several times to go over the stilted dialogue, as if it’s very important to her. She’s almost desperate with worry that I’ll go off-script. To me, it reads: “Hi there, let’s kill everyone in Anthem and live there. The end.”
The ambassadors stand behind Baby, eyes wide but glazed, as if they’ve accepted their fate. When they saw me last night, I felt their pure hatred for what they thought had been my own duplicity.
Another straw of guilt on this camel’s back.
Liza should have left already, but when I see a familiar glint of blonde hair in the crowd, I crumple the paper in my hand. Even frustrated by unnecessary risk, I can’t help feeling better at the sight of her hidden among the people.
She should hate me by now; I’d worked hard to make sure she would.
How many forgiveness bones are in this girl’s body?
The mic clicks on. Startled, I lift my wrinkled speech and take my place, as the crowd leans forward.
My voice echoes several times whenever I speak.
“Underground, internationals, civilians. The Authority has made their demands and offered us peace in return. The demands…” I clear my throat and try again. “The demands are…”
My voice falters, and I search the crowd for her. “The demands are fair.”
The council behind me sucks in their breath.
I shove the paper into my pocket, then wipe a hand across my sweaty lip. “As fair as they can be. While we wouldn’t have the freedom there we’ve been requesting, we’d be allowed to have it here. Provided we don’t attack them, they promise not to attack us. They’ve offered us a treaty and I think we should accept.
“Simon.” I point to our leader, who’s watching me carefully, in fury, though not surprised. “He’s wanted Anthem, a home for us, and I commend that ideal. I want a home for us, as well. But not at such a cost. Anthem’s Guards, the Authority’s soldiers—they outnumber us, hundreds to one. Thousands, maybe.”
The crowd gasps, and some soldiers yell out in denial.
I hold up my hand for silence. “I’m asked to call for war. You wanted the truth from your council, and they’ve left it up to me. All of you have trusted me to help advise you on what’s best. You’ve let me, a stranger, give my opinion about what lies ahead, and I cannot lie. Despite what certain leaders have demanded of me, I don’t believe we have the collective resources or even tactics for this war. It’s a fight that I don’t think we can win.”
The crowd stirs.
“I don’t mean to offend our forces. We’re a powerful army, and together with the internationals, a force to be reckoned with.” I turn to slant my eyes at the ambassadors. “The Authority has long underestimated what free men and women can do, and they’ll pay for that someday.”
I turn back to the mic, bumping into the podium. “Just not today.”
As thousands of people begin to shove forward, arguments break out about whether o
r not I’m right. Some still hold their pride that we’re strong enough, while others simply seek revenge against the Authority and I’ve ruined their chances.
But many, a good many, stand with their hands down by their sides, looking relieved.
I’ve not sent them toward certain death.
That relieves me, too.
Now, I shout above the din, quieting the people. “We’re not fodder for the war machine! We don’t need dictators shoving us into battle. Look at your neighbor and tell me you’d watch them die for a cause that’s so inelegantly explained as a fight for home? We need a city? We have a city!”
The arguers pause to listen.
“I, too, am like you—fighting for so long, I’ve lost sight of its reasons. Someone told me there are other things to fight for.” I stare at Liza. “And I do call you forces at arms, even you civilians, neutrals—I do call you to fight.”
I see hope blossom in Simon’s eyes, then die a quick death when I slam my hand down on the podium.
“Fight for peace!”
Simon motions to Bradford, and the MPs latch onto my arms. Pandemonium strikes as the crowd surges forward in my defense, surges at each other, at the council.
“Thomas Ripley Hatter,” Bradford yells into my ear, “you are under arrest for treason.”
Simon marches alongside us as they take me away. Or rather, he and the council flee as the people make it past the guards.
“Is this what we are now, Simon?” I shout. “Arresting anyone who dares to argue with authority, much like the Authority you despise so much? We become what we hate most, eh?”
He stops our procession, and I struggle with my bound hands.
Simon shakes his head. “You were my greatest hope,” he says.
“And you are my greatest letdown. You seek power−"
“Is that what you’ve surmised, boy?” Simon moves closer. “Power is for simple-minded brutes. I seek more than power; I seek things beyond our very understanding.” His face contorts before he brings it under control once more. “Power is of no consequence.”
I yell at the MPs as they continue to haul me away. “Is this what we’ve become?” Some sheepishly look away. “Children hunters? Murderers?”
“Let them go, Simon,” I say, referring to the ambassadors. “Hear them out. Give peace a chance!”
Bradford shoves me toward two of his lackeys. “What do we do about the ambassadors?” he asks Simon.
“Hang them,” Simon replies, still glaring at me. “Find the child.”
“You can’t be serious! You can’t mean to− "
“And… ?” Bradford questions, looking for once like he’s afraid of the answer.
“Hang the boy, too.”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Dallas
Joelle’s rested, ready to face the new day, and her new army.
“How many?” she asks.
“I’ve counted over seven hundred, not including the brutal youths they’ve been feeding on. Some of them have changed, as well.”
All my fellow townsfolk, including Lotte, Angelique, and even the pastor of the church, have been turned. They wait for our order−Joelle’s order.
She nods, thinking.
“Let’s speak with Lotte, she’ll help us if she’s still herself.”
Joelle closes her eyes, then opens them in the darkness of our cabin. The door opens while we wait. She’s summoned the woman of Iron herself.
Lotte Jackson stands on our threshold, but I wonder what she recalls.
“I am me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she says, familiar at once.
Joelle gives me a look, and I begin.
“Lotte, are you able to control the hunger?”
Joelle cocks her head. “Can you keep from the blood rage. Do you hear it calling?”
“We can.” Lotte looks down at the ground in sadness. “We were feeding off the anger of that man. But he’s dead now, bled away. I remembered, and then I wish I didn’t. So many of the people I … I killed so many.”
“You weren’t thinking for yourself,” Joelle says. “But are you now?”
“I still feel the hunger and the madness. But we can fight it. And we’re connected so I try to feed them my strength, and they give me theirs.”
“The brutal youths?”
“Some have gone rogue,” Lotte says, “but many have found this as a fresh way to begin again.”
“Will they follow you?” Joelle asks.
“No, my small queen. They will follow you.”
Joelle seems embarrassed by the title, though she graciously nods her head, excusing Lotte back into the night.
We both remain in our spots too long to really tell how long it’s been. The sun hasn’t come up yet, but I know we’ve wasted the night. Joelle’s busy with her new role. She’s listening to each sound wave of her vampire army.
Me, I spent every long, dragging minute pondering what’ll happen if we dare to do what we both want to do.
Soon, the sun begins to creep over the horizon, and tiredness forces our hand.
“We will go,” she says huskily.
“They’ll see the army as a threat, see us as an enemy. Our kind, I mean.”
“I know.” Joelle turns to face me, aged eyes somber and wise inside the teenaged face. “But I sense something’s changed. Our friend, he needs help.”
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Liza
My shock at Tommy’s statement is overcome by the fear of being trampled. People immediately start demanding the council let the ambassadors go, allow them to speak their treaty, while others demand them to hang—and soon. The place erupts in war on all sides.
Bradford arrests Tommy on the stage as I shout, “No!”
Through the sidelines, I duck swinging fists, and shove through, tripping over fallen people. I ram bodies aside with my shoulder until I’m clear of the brawls.
A rough hand stops me at the edge, and I stare into a blue, raptor gaze. Cory stands in my way.
“Let me through.”
“If Simon sees you—”
“Don’t make me use force.”
His jaw hardens. “Don’t make me.”
I feel a fuzzy burn between my eyes.
Cory grabs my arm, tugging me out of the way just in time to avoid being slammed by two soldiers who tumble together, one holding the other in a chokehold.
“I need to see him!” I cry over the roaring crowd. Then I try for a more amicable approach, placing a hand on his bicep. “Please, Cory. Help me.”
Cory stares down in contemplation, his grip close to bruising my arm. Finally, he turns and shoves us through an entrance that’s been momentarily unmanned due to the melee. Although they’ve not unmanned it of their own volition; the two guards look like robots walking in the other direction. Cory made them look the other way.
We approach the MPs who drag Tommy toward imprisonment. Luckily, Bradford and Simon are absent.
“Tommy!” I yell.
His wild eyes find mine. “What are you doing here!” He shakes free, rushing toward us. “Get out! Leave! Tell her, Cory!” Closer now, Tommy leans into me, pleading, “Please, run for your life. If Simon finds you …”
The guards tackle Tommy, and he threatens to transition. With an apologetic look, Chalberg calmly approaches and injects Tommy with the serum to stop his change. They tow him away from me.
“Run! Hide!” he shouts so desperately, it makes the hair on my neck stand up.
Tommy has been afraid of this the entire time and he’s tried to keep me clear of it. He knew Simon would make examples of us if we failed to live up to their expectations.
The internationals are now pressing at the gate, cutting off retreat in that direction. There’s no way around them, and it seems too many people make Cory’s control useless. Most have turned to watch the stage, or above it. They look upward.
I follow their gaze until I see one ambassador fall from a window, rope pulling taut. He dangles,
struggling, tongue out, face bright red, hands tied behind his back.
I close my eyes when they shove out the second.
Cory’s at my elbow. “Come on,” he says.
We pass Tommy’s house, and I stop. “Hold on a second,” I say.
I try the door and find it unlocked.
In the bedroom waits a figure in the dark, sitting on the bed.
“Baby?” She doesn’t move. I touch her cold shoulder. “Baby, we have to leave.”
Simon will be after anyone who’s helped Tommy with his supposed treachery; he’ll want her as much as he wants me.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Baby says quietly. “I messed up. I’ve failed, don’t you see? Nothing matters now.”
I squat down in front of her. “You say that, but when Simon comes and takes us into a cell, it will matter greatly. Come with me.”
She stares at me, blurry-eyed. “Why wouldn’t he just listen?”
Because he’s Tommy and he never listens, I want to say. Because the reason we care for him is because he’s a stubborn arse.
Baby hiccups, then whispers a broken sound. “They’ll kill him, Liza.”
I look away, biting down the pain that threatens to come screaming out of me. “Listen, we can’t think about that right now.”
The front door bursts opens, filtering MPs into the living area. Through the crack in the bedroom door, I watch them search.
I hunch down, dragging Baby with me.
“Is there a back door?” I whisper.
Baby nods, shaking in fear.
We sneak out before they shove open the bedroom door. Once outside, we listen to them through a window. They’re looking for the ambassador’s son, and they think Tommy’s hidden him.
Sounds like something Tommy would do.
Baby must be thinking the same thing, because she turns to me, hand over her mouth in realization. “I know where he is,” she admits.
Cory will be furious for my leaving him. Still, I let Baby show me the way.
I pull up my hood, and Baby slips into a jacket.
After creeping alongside the buildings, Baby shoves me through a door into a place I’ve never been: a towering building with offices on every floor. We sneak inside, and the place is empty. “Tommy’s office is in here,” she says after we’ve quietly climbed so many stairs. Trying a door, she says, “Locked,” and then kicks it.
