by Jus Accardo
“Corey!” All heads swiveled toward Ash. She didn’t seem to care about the scrutiny. She was tense, muscles straining against her bonds and eyes wide. She swallowed and let her head fall for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Cora’s. “We were attacked. In the park. He—”
The humor instantly drained from Cora’s face and her eyes glazed over. Lips pulled into a feral snarl, she flew at Ash like a demon and grabbed her by the front of the shirt. If she hadn’t been holding tight, the entire chair would have gone over. “What the hell were you doing with my son? I made it clear—”
“Son?” I exclaimed, while at the same time, Ash narrowed her eyes and said, “Trying to talk some sense into him since no one else has the guts to listen.”
Karl crossed the room and managed to pry Cora away from Ash. You might have thought he was trying to rescue the girl if it hadn’t been for his expression. Feral and deadly, like he was barely restraining himself from doing just what his wife had and then some. Clearly, on this world, he was the voice of reason. “Where is my son?”
“Dead,” Ash said. It came out as barely a whisper, but somehow seemed to echo off the walls like she’d shouted it through a megaphone. “Someone attacked us. Corey was killed.”
Karl stumbled away, shaking his head as Cora sagged against him. The walking cane fell to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, eyes never leaving Ash. “I am going to take my wife into the other room, and then I am going to find my son. For your sake, I hope this is a sick joke.”
She looked like he’d slapped her. “I would never joke about something like that.”
“Then my dear…you are in very big trouble.”
Chapter Four
Ash
“This is not happening.” I pulled against the restraints. The hard plastic straps cut into my skin but didn’t budge an inch.
“Is Corey Anderson really dead?”
I twisted so that I was facing him. His expression was stricken. Like someone had stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife a few times just for fun—I knew exactly how that felt because every time I glanced over at him I got the same sensation. He was definitely Noah Anderson—shaggy hair, steely eyes, and heart-stopping hitch in his upper lip—just not this world’s Noah Anderson. Still, seeing him alive sent a shiver of happiness through me. Hearing his voice calmed my nerves just a bit. “Who are you?”
“If you answer my damn question, maybe I’ll be your fairy godfather.”
This guy…there was darkness there. Far more than the Noah I’d known and loved. He’d hid his demons well. Buried them beneath jokes and addictive vices. This one wore them on his sleeve. They flashed in his eyes and radiated around him like some kind of toxic cloud. His gaze, jagged where my Noah’s had been smooth, chased the air from my lungs and made me want to shift in my seat. I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
“Well?” he prodded.
I swallowed and found my voice. “He’s dead.” Just like I’d be as soon as they found his body.
His expression softened a bit. “And you know the Andersons how?”
Why not? It wasn’t like I had anything left to lose at this point. And on the plus side, keeping him talking allowed me to hear Noah’s voice again. “I live with them.” I let my head fall back. “I mean, I used to live with them. Until they kicked me out.”
“They kicked you out?” He seemed almost horrified. It was actually an expression I was accustomed to. That’s how my Noah had looked when anything pertaining to his family came up.
“They blame me for your—our Noah’s—death.”
“I’m dead here, too?” He threw back his head and snorted. Such an un-Noah-like thing to do. “Well, that blows a big one.”
“Your turn,” I said. His brows lifted in question. “Who are you?”
“You obviously know I’m not the Noah Anderson you knew.”
Duh. “You’re with Infinity, right? A different Infinity.”
“You could say that.” He tugged against his binds, then wiggled his fingers. “Which I assume dear ole alternate Mom and Dad know—creepy versions of them, by the way. So why the hell are we tied up?”
“I told you why they tied me up. As for you, I assume they believe you’re a Skip.”
“A skip?”
“It’s what we call inter-dimensional terrorists.”
He snorted again. “We’re here to catch an inter-dimensional terrorist.”
“We?”
His right eyebrow twitched. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I’m willing to bet that the person who attacked you and killed Corey is the same person I’m here to stop—that’s not going to happen while I’m strapped to this stupid chair. And about that—what are they going to do to us?”
“Cora and Karl?” I wanted to know who we were, but first things first. “Probably kill us.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh. Is that all?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood to be dead. Stuff to do, people to catch. You know the drill. We need to get out of here. Can you get free?”
I tried—and failed—again. “Not happening.” The contents of my pockets, and I assumed Noah’s, were piled on a workbench a few feet away. Even if I could get to my cell, though, who would I call? The police wouldn’t come running. Even before this all went down. I wasn’t big in the friend department. I was a Bottom Tier citizen thrust on Top Tier society. Most people I encountered barely glanced in my direction, much less gave me the time of day. They were respectful when they had to be. Living in the Anderson house afforded me some perks. But no one went out of their way.
“You lived here, right? Any ideas?”
I scanned the basement. We hardly came down here, but from what I knew, there wasn’t anything useful. Cora kept the boys’ old clothing and toys stashed away, along with boxes and boxes of old books and antiques she’d deemed out of style. The far corner was used to house some of her old research material, but nothing that might help us. “Can’t say anything is coming to mind.”
He glanced around the room. His gaze caught on something I couldn’t see in the far corner. “Then I have one.”
“Okay…” It sounded like there was a but. If he was anything like my Noah, that could be a bad thing. He had the tendency to act irrationally at times and it always got him into trouble. Then again, that guy could talk himself out of pretty much any situation. I didn’t get the impression that this Noah was a talker.
“Fair warning that it might just make things worse.”
Yep. Definitely a bad thing… “Doubt that’s possible at this point.”
“Always possible,” he mumbled. He nodded and leaned forward until he was standing, the legs of his chair hovering off the ground at an awkward angle. He was slightly bulkier than my Noah. Harder and more defined. I cursed myself for noticing, but despite the situation, it was impossible not to see how the material of his shirt stretched and moved across the planes of his torso.
Noah cringed, then inhaled. He leaped up and threw himself backward, crashing to the floor. There was a horrible crack and pieces of the chair splintered in every direction.
“Oh my God. What if one of the pieces had splintered and, I dunno, stabbed you?”
“Then it would have saved your foster parents a little time and effort.” He grunted and rolled onto his feet, wobbling just a bit. The zip ties remained, but they were no longer attached to anything. He was free. “Didn’t know you cared.”
Lurching toward the work bench, he grabbed a small pocket knife and went to work sawing the ties off my wrists. Twice his fingertips brushed my skin and I cringed. Not because it was unpleasant. The opposite, actually. The contact sent a ripple of warmth through me, which was confusing, not to mention badly timed. I swallowed against an involuntary shudder and said, “I don’t. If you’d gotten yourself killed, though, I would have been stuck down here with your corpse.”
First hand free, he moved on
to the next. I saw his lip twitch, like he was holding back a grin. “Right.”
Once I was free, he dragged one of the unbroken lawn chairs over and positioned it beneath the small window. “Suck it in and squeeze through,” he commanded, giving me a shove.
His hand grazed my backside and I whirled on him, an even mix of horrified and angry. “Watch it.”
A spark of mischief glinted in his eyes, there and gone in a single beat of my heart before being replaced with steely resignation. “Oh yeah. I got kidnapped and tossed in a mad scientist’s basement just so I could have a shot at touching your ass. Get over yourself and move.”
I did as I was told, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from telling him off.
Once I wriggled through, Noah was right behind me. “This was fun. Let’s not do it again anytime soon, huh?”
“Gladly. Now if you—”
A black and purple blur flew past me, colliding with Noah and taking him to the ground. One of the Andersons’ security detail had him pinned, elbow to his throat, massive body crushing his. “I’ve got orders not to kill you,” the guy said. “But, hey. Accidents happen.”
I could have run. Turned on my heel and beat feet just as fast as I possibly could until I was somewhere in the next state—not that it would have changed my situation. Should have, even. And even though this guy wasn’t the Noah I loved, he was still a Noah. I couldn’t leave him—especially not after he’d saved me.
I threw myself forward at them, knocking the guard off balance. He cursed and rolled on top of me, smushing the air from my lungs and nearly crushing me beneath his considerable weight.
Just when I thought I’d suffocate, the corners of my vision growing watery and dark, the weight disappeared and the sounds of melee drifted through the night. A moment later, someone was hauling me to my feet and dragging me across the lawn.
“Second time in less than an hour,” Noah shouted. “Saved your ass.”
I tripped several times, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He didn’t slow down. By the time we made it off the Andersons’ property and several blocks away, I was sure he’d dislocated my arm and broken my thumb. I cradled it, opening and closing my fingers several times just to be sure everything still worked as it should.
“If I were you, I’d lay low until you push off.” I waggled a finger at him. “That face is going to get you into trouble. Knowing the Andersons, they’ve already notified the news outlets that there is an unauthorized Skip in town.”
“Unauthorized?” He tilted his head and I noticed for the first time that his hair was much longer than my Noah’s. He had it pulled into a stubby tail that hung just above his neck while the bangs and sides fell free. “How the hell would you go about getting authorized?”
I shrugged. “Don’t think you would. The Andersons have this town locked up tight.” That should have been the end of it. I should have turned on my heel and walked away. Run, actually. There was still the matter of the Andersons’ wrath to deal with. Except I couldn’t. Not just yet.
I’d last laid eyes on Noah more than a month ago. It’d been more than thirty days since I’d heard his voice. Now here he was, standing in front of me against all reasonable odds, and I wasn’t ready to let that go just yet. “Thank you. For helping me.”
His lip hitched. “Yeah, well, I guess I didn’t have much of a choice. I mean, it was my fault they nabbed you.” He took a step toward me.
“That’s true,” I said. Like him, I made the smallest move forward. A tiny voice inside my head goaded me to reach out and touch him. A simple brush of my hand against his. Just one small moment to commit the feeling to permanent memory. At my side, my hand twitched, but I managed to keep it to myself. God. Was I insane? “You won’t be staying long, right? It’s not safe here.”
Noah’s gaze flickered to my hand, then settled on my face. For an insane moment, it almost seemed like he was focusing just a little too hard, fighting his own silent war. “Just here to do what I came to do. Then I’m out.”
“Find this criminal?” Closure, I realized. That was what this was all about. That was the freaky pull I was feeling here. Why I couldn’t just up and walk away. Noah and I had been so close for so long. The best of friends. Then, we had that moment, that crazy kiss—and he was gone. Erased from this world and my life. Sure, we’d both agreed it was a mistake, but deep down, I think both of us had needed more closure than that. I’d pushed it and I realized now that I wanted to apologize for that. For possibly wrecking something we both depended so heavily on.
“Yeah.” He reached across and pulled something off my shoulder. A leaf. “The guy is crazy. Dangerous as fuck.”
They looked alike but were still so different. Observation number one: language. My Noah would never have spoken like that. I cursed, but him? No. He had other vices but I’d never heard him utter a single four-letter word. There was no closure to be had here. Noah was gone and getting to see him one last time was a small gift, but also a dangerous distraction. This Noah had a different vibe. Enticing and oddly magnetic. I had to get moving before I repeated that same mistake. “Then you should probably be careful.”
I turned and started in the direction of home, but he grabbed my arm—the good one, thankfully. “Where are you going?”
“Through the woods to grandma’s house.” I pivoted to face him but didn’t pull free from his grip. “Why?”
He faltered for a second, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He glanced down at his hand on my arm and gave the slightest shake of his head before letting go as though my skin were made of poison. For an instant his expression was pained, then it quickly hardened and he took a step back. “Have a nice life.” Without another word, he turned and stalked into the night, swallowed a moment later by the dark. As I watched him go, it took every ounce of strength I had not to run after him.
It took me almost twenty minutes to make my way home. I was looking over my shoulder the entire way. What I’d told Noah was the truth. The Andersons were ruthless and controlling and there was no way they’d tolerate a rogue Skip—especially their own son’s doppelganger—strolling around town. But it wasn’t my problem. I’d pushed it aside and had my own crap to deal with.
By the time I got home, I was beat. It was about five miles from the Andersons to the compound and it’d been a long night. I stopped for a moment and stared at my front door—if you could call it that. Home sweet home was one of two hundred efficiency cottages donated by the Andersons’ supreme generosity—cough-cough publicity stunt—to the Listed Youth project in 2001. The whole movement was billed as a way to get listed teens off the street. You got to live here, rent free, until you turned eighteen. You had to pay for your own food and utilities, but your roof was covered. After that, you were on your own. No one in the U.S. would—or could—hire you except one of the two houses. Basically agencies that rented their employees out to a multitude of service related jobs that even the Bottom Tier citizens didn’t want.
I slipped into the house and closed the door, not bothering to be quiet. I had a couple roommates—Mary and Felice—but they were hardly ever here.
I crossed the small room and pulled open my dresser—a cardboard-like thing that smelled oddly of mothballs even though I’d never had any—and began pulling things out. Corey Anderson was dead and I was the last one—that they knew of—to see him. If I didn’t get the hell out of town tonight, this was going to go down one of two ways. The police would come for me. There’d be a trial—doubtfully a fair one—and I would be blamed for Corey’s death. The Andersons would get their justice in the end. Or, more likely, they’d simply take it upon themselves to get rid of me. Getting out of town was my only chance at seeing the sun again. Sure, they’d follow, but the farther I got from Wells, the better my chances. I would have to ditch my plans of proving Noah had been murdered. For now at least. He’d want that, though. He’d want me to be safe…
I filled the bag with the first things
my hands touched. Several pairs of jeans, a handful of assorted items from my underwear drawer—a hairbrush. It was mindless and random and chaotic, but it slowed the pounding of my heart beneath my ribs. I’d always found comfort in chaos. The more hectic things were, the more at ease I felt.
I zipped the backpack and swung the duffel over my shoulder. I was about to start for the door when an odd feeling crept across my skin. That eerie tingle that comes from fear. Something clattered outside. I held my breath and listened. There was another noise, this one softer but longer lasting. A sudden banging followed it.
“What the hell?” I set the bags down and crossed to the door. The entire front wall of the house was shaking. Someone was out there, banging against the cottage on either side of the door. I grabbed the handle and twisted. It turned like it was supposed to, but the door didn’t open. “Hey! What’s going on?”
Whoever was on the other side of the door didn’t answer. There was more banging, then footsteps. A moment later I smelled it. Smoke.
“No!” I slammed my hand against the door. When that didn’t work, I rammed my shoulder into it. Over and over until my entire arm was numb. It was pointless, though. Whatever they’d braced the door with wasn’t budging. I gave up and backed away, then spun in a slow circle. There were no windows in the efficiency cabins. Hell, there were barely four walls and a roof. The mini homes were made from the cheapest materials and every corner was cut.
Thick gray smoke began wafting beneath the gap at the bottom of the door. The smell grew stronger. I threw myself at the door again and started pounding. “You can’t do this! Someone, help!”
No one would come, though. Even if someone could hear me, the other listed would look the other way. Everyone in the small compound knew who I was. They all knew who’d put me here. We were no longer accepted members of society, but that didn’t stop the Andersons from striking fear into the hearts of the people.
The door heated. I had to back away to keep from getting burned. The structure caught quickly since they hadn’t needed to operate within the building codes. The entire place was as flammable as a pile of dead leaves.
