by Shaye Easton
Then I feel a sharp pinch as he slides the needle into my upper arm, the metal breaking through my skin. I focus on my breathing and try not to move. The needle comes out and the man disappears, replaced by a new but familiar face.
“Will this kill me?” I ask Davion. The beeping slows.
“No,” he replies, “but you won’t have your powers anymore.” Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Why?” I ask. “Why are you doing this?” Beep…beep…beep.
He looks down. I realise faintly that I’ve caught him in a moment of honesty. Quietly, he says, “Because I couldn’t bear the alternative.”
“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t do this.” Beep.
He steps back as I’m slipping into darkness. “Sleep well.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I’m surrounded by darkness, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Let me go!” I shriek, my four-year-old voice raw from crying. The world around me jerks and I smash into a metal wall, stars flashing in the corners of my vision. I pull away from it and crawl to the other side of my prison, the floor humming and jolting beneath me. My world lurches again and I tumble across the floor, crashing into the opposing wall. Then everything goes still. My ears pick out the sound of voices and of doors slamming. Metal doors.
Then something slides open and light spills into my temporary prison, only I still can’t see. I reach up and feel thick fabric tied across my eyes, but before I get the chance to rip it off, an arm wraps around my waist and yanks my small body into the air, pulling me out of the room.
I thrash and cry, screaming to be let go.
“Shut up,” I’m told in reply, the man’s words more of a grunt as he’s pummelled by my fists and heels.
“Should we sedate her?” another voice asks, this one distinctly female.
“No, but Davion wants her memories erased,” a third replies.
“She’s all yours.” I’m plonked down on the ground, the person who had carried me now holding my upper arms. “Grab her legs in case she resists,” he says. Then a new set of hands clamps down on my thighs, pinning me to the ground, and on instinct, I kick and lash out, desperate to get away from these strangers. But they’re a million times stronger than I am, and despite my struggling, they keep me almost completely still as two light fingers come to rest on my temples. I feel a sting and then my brain starts to go fuzzy.
Memories flash before my eyes—my parents smiling on the back porch, a man with a voice as smooth as honey, the pain of a cold object on my chest—and then they slip through my fingers like sand, disappearing into oblivion.
“Okay, let’s drop her off,” the female says, and I’m lifted up. The touch at my temples is gone but memories continue to flit from my mind: my friend and I are in a barn; her chasing me across a grassy field, shouting my name; wrapping my pinky around hers and swearing to be friends forever; her name, Melissa; and my name, Sara.
The strangers place me down a final time, grass tickling my legs. Then it’s all gone. Someone pulls a stretch of fabric from my eyes, but I don’t remember where it came from or why it was there. I’m assaulted by bright light, the sound of retreating footsteps barely registering in my ears, and I squint, rubbing my eyes until I can see. Then I frown.
I’m sitting on the front lawn of a house.
I furrow my eyebrows further as I try to recall how I ended up here. A look over my shoulders reveals an empty, sun-scorched road and not a single person in sight. Where am I? Who am I?
“Melissa!” someone shouts, and I look at the house in time to see an unfamiliar woman running down the front steps towards me. Melissa? Is that my name? I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything.
“Oh, Melissa, thank God you’re safe,” she says as she reaches me, pulling me into a motherly hug. “I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you again.”
***
When I wake, everything is black, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m dead. Maybe the procedure went wrong. Maybe Davion was lying when he said it wouldn’t kill me. He does that a lot.
Then my hearing returns and suddenly everything is chaos. A siren’s piercing wails slam into my ears, along with shouting and crashing and the pop, pop, pop of guns. Footsteps, loud and fast, pound by outside my room. In the background, I can hear the soft beep, beep, beep of the monitor and the constant drone of the machine above me.
I try to sit up but my metal restraints are still sealed tightly shut. The clasp around my neck bites into my throat and I sink back down. I’m trapped here, forced to lie in the dark and listen to the thunderous commotion. At times, people rush past outside, shouting and swearing, but no one thinks to enter. It’s like I’ve been forgotten, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or afraid.
After an undefinable period of time, a gun goes off outside my door—through my door. I flinch. But it wasn’t aimed in my direction. It blows in the doors lock, and a small shaft of light seeps into the room through the resulting fist-sized hole.
So I haven’t been forgotten after all. I freeze in my restraints.
Someone kicks the door in and light pours into the room. The darkness is swept away like dirt with a cloth. I squint against the harsh glow as a pair of silhouettes bundle inside, a third hanging by the door.
“Melissa!” someone shouts over the sirens. I blink, my eyelids drifting shut and opening again with slow, sludgy movements, as if coated in wet glue. I can’t see their face until they’re right before me, reaching for my restraints.
“Caden?” I murmur. Because it is Caden—a little ruffled, hair mussed, sweat at his temples, a bruise on the side of his jaw. Spots of blood decorate his shirt, but I couldn’t tell where they came from. “How did you—”
“No time,” he says quickly, breathing heavily. He yanks on one of my restraints, then another. “We have to get you out of here.” He yanks again, but no one budges.
“Caden,” someone else says, and I recognise the voice as Kathryn’s, “it’s electrical. There’s probably a switch or a button or a—,” all at once, the metal clasps keeping me prisoner flip open, “—lock.” Kathryn stares at my open restraints, surprise dragging down her jaw.
Then she looks back at the person by the door. They tilt their head ever so slightly and the light catches their features. It’s Rand.
“Thanks,” Kathryn says.
“Thank me later. Right now, we need to go.”
I rip the tubes and needles from my arm and drag myself up. Caden helps me swing down off the gurney. My legs tremble as I ease my weight onto my feet, still woozy from the sedative.
“Can you walk?” Caden asks, and my head bobs up and down in a vague imitation of a nod. He releases me, and I take a step, wobbling for a moment before I find my centre of gravity and steady myself. Caden follows closely behind me as I move for the door where Kathryn and Rand are waiting.
“How are you with running?” Rand asks.
“I’m not sure.”
We’ve just left the room when there’s a shout at the far end of the hall. In unison, our heads snap towards the sound. A group of black-clad figures has rounded the corner like a pack of dogs. They’re all armed with black bulky guns.
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” Caden says, backing up. He places his hand on my shoulder in warning. “Melissa, run!”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m off, my legs more or less supporting me, even if it does feel like my bones have been swapped out for jelly. The hallway comes to a t-section at the far end and I bolt towards it.
A shot rings out on my left side. It hits the wall in front of me and I falter, chunks of plaster blowing back in all directions. But the real shock is the tennis ball-sized hole in the wall, smouldering an electric blue. I flip around and find the underwalker with his gun raised, the tip bright and crackling, like it contains a kind of blue lightning.
“Those aren’t guns.”
“No, they’re not,” Rand says, catching up. He grabs my upper arm and forces me t
o keep moving. “They’re worse.”
Another shot strikes on my right and another just above me. The heat singeing the hairs on the top of my head. Caden and Kathryn round the corner in front of us. The shots keep coming, a barrage of blue orbs crackling around us. It brings a whole new meaning to the term ‘enemy fire’.
Then we’re around the corner and I hold a hand to my chest to make sure I’m still alive. “That was some bad aim.” I laugh. But I don’t really find it amusing. I’m freaking the fuck out.
“We got lucky,” Rand replies. We’re all still running. Well aware that our pursuers will round the corner at any moment.
“Or they’re under orders not to hurt us,” Caden says.
Kathryn scoffs. “That’s unlikely.”
We come to another crossroad. Rand leads us left. “I think he’s right about one thing, though. They’re definitely under orders not to cause any harm. I just don’t think it has anything to do with us.”
Then he looks right at me.
We quickly come to another turn. This time, we go right. With all these turns, it makes it almost too easy to lose our pursuers.
I know what Rand’s saying. He thinks they’ve been instructed not to kill me. But what he doesn’t know is why I was in that room. And that I no longer have any use.
The full force of the realisation hits me like a bullet to the stomach, like one of their lightning guns has just punched through my major intestines.
I’m completely powerless.
I stumble over my feet. The remaining sedative makes stabilising myself nearly impossible. I flounder, my weight tipping, bracing myself for impact.
Then Caden is there. He catches me mid-fall and eases me back up. I grip his forearms like they’re my lifeline.
“What is it?” He’s seen the emotions twisting my features, wringing them out like a wet cloth.
I shake my head.
“We can’t stop,” Rand yells, the sirens still blaring. “Go!”
But it’s too late. Another pack of underwalkers round the corner in front of us. For a second, both sides freeze, surprised, afraid and waiting. Waiting for the other to make a move. Waiting for the animosity between our bloodlines to kick in. Waiting for the battle that rages around us to hand down an order, to smash an invisible gavel and declare a ruling. The question dances in their eyes, Are we enemies? Because we don’t know these people, and they don’t know us. There’s no personal hatred here. It’s business. It’s following orders. It’s war.
In the distance, we hear a boom, like someone’s just detonated a bomb. Their eyes light with fire and it’s contagious. The invisible gavel comes down.
Enemies.
Kathryn throws the first punch, knocking the closest back. Then the fluorescent lights above them explode. Sparks fall like rain. The fixtures themselves come loose and topple down. There’s a blast of light. Something sharp and fiery flies by my side. I stumble back, eyes big in their sockets, staring at the body trapped and burning beneath the fixture. Another underwalker has lit up like a torch, fire streaming off their arms as they flail about, flapping and waving.
The survivor ploughs into Rand, dropping his gun. He lands a jabs under the jaw, knocking Rand’s head back, then comes in for a punch to the gut. He’s not aiming to kill. He’s aiming to hurt.
Caden collects the gun he dropped and shoots him in the back.
Blood sprays everywhere, dousing Rand in red. The man drops to the ground, clothes smoking, his back ripped open. I spin away, clutching a hand to my mouth. The smell of burnt meat floods my nose. Instantly, I’m back in last night’s massacre.
“Let’s go,” Caden says.
“I can’t,” I gasp, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
Kathryn and Rand trade looks. My eyes skip over Rand with horror.
“You’re coming,” Kathryn says, “whether you like it or not.”
I back up until I hit the wall, still shaking my head. The blood of last night paints itself over my eyes, mixes with the blood in the hallway.
This isn’t real. I’m in a nightmare. This can’t be happening again.
“Give her a moment,” Caden says, his eyes softening as he takes me in. “She didn’t grow up in this world.’
“We don’t have a moment,” Kathryn snaps, her tone almost panicked. If she has any sympathy for her biological daughter, she doesn’t show it. “We’re going.”
“I can’t–“ I gasp.
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t do this!” I can feel tears coming and I fight them with my every ounce of strength. I will not cry in front of these people. I will not cry in front of these—
I stop my train of thought before I can think it. I was going to call them murderers. Is that what they are? Is that what Caden is?
“Good god,” Kathryn sighs.
“Ryn, you must understand, she’s not used to the spectre world. She’s just a normal girl. To be thrust into this—,” Rand spreads his arms, not even vaguely self-conscious of the blood splattering his face and clothes, “–must be traumatising.”
Kathryn stoops to collect the other two guns the underwalkers dropped. She shoves one into Rand’s hands. “Except she’s not a normal girl.” And now she looks over at me, eyes piercing like knives into my soul. “She’s my daughter. She’s the goddamn Final Prophet.”
I think of the horrible hum, the smell of disinfectant, the sharp needle point of a hulking machine. I shake my head and look down. “Not anymore.”
For a moment, everyone stares, blinking, slow to comprehend what it is I’m telling them. Then Kathryn growls, “What do you mean not anymore?”
“That room you found me in contained a machine built by Davion,” I say, looking up despite the red creeping in at the corners of my vision. I don’t look at Rand. I don’t look at the disfigured, smoking thing on the floor. “And he used it to take my powers.”
Kathryn’s face drops, jaw slackening. Rand and Caden are similarly aghast. “You’re joking.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“This can’t be true,” she says, her voice wavering. She has the face of a woman who’s just lost the fight she dedicated her life to. “Have you tried to use them?”
“No, but—”
“Then you don’t know for sure. We could have stopped it in time. Go on. Try something.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t.”
“You don’t get to say that!” she yells suddenly. The hallway grows extremely still.
“Ryn–” Rand starts.
“Don’t Ryn me. All our lives rest on this girl having powers. The Final Prophet is a prophet! She can’t prophesise anything if she doesn’t have the ability to.” She looks back at me. “Try them.”
“I can’t do that. Even if they’re not gone, I haven’t been able to access my abilities for hours. ”
“You have to try! I won’t let my fucking brother do this to me! ”
“Okay!” The word bursts out.
Everyone’s staring at me. I close my eyes in an attempt to block them out. Of course, as soon as I do, the brutalities I’ve witnessed stretch out across the back of my eyelids, making it even harder to focus. I try to feel the air around me. I imagine it swirling, whipping through the hall, fluttering through my hair. I strain to access my power, but in the end, I find nothing.
I let out the breath I’d been holding in a whoosh, and open my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I tell Kathryn.
While I’ve been focused on my powers, she’s grown remarkably calm. She shakes her head. “We have no way of knowing for sure right now anyway. There’s still hope.”
But what she doesn’t know is that when I tried to reach for my powers, the problem wasn’t that I couldn’t reach them. It was that I couldn’t feel them at all. I reached inwards, and found myself staring into the gaping maw of a deep black pit.
They’re gone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
We get moving. I’m happy to be lea
ving the three fresh corpses behind, but I can barely stand to look at Rand’s bloodied clothes. He’s more or less gotten the blood off his face, but you can still see hints of it congealed in his hair, smudged across his skin, dried in trails below his jaw. Everyone has a lightning gun now except me, but I’d never shoot one anyway.
The sirens are still going strong, and the sounds of gunshots or lightning gun shots still travel through the buildings foundations. Kathryn leads us to an emergency stairwell and pushes the door open carefully, peering inside to make sure no one’s around. She gives a thumbs up.
We move quickly and quietly down the stairwell. Stairs prove to be more difficult with my woozy legs. I trip a few times, and have to make a quick grab for the railing before I topple down headfirst. No one speaks, but the siren thrums through our bodies, vibrating through our ears, adding a greater sense of urgency. Adding a feeling of exposure, like every underwalker eyes are on us, even within the dark confines of the stairwell walls.
Once at the bottom, Kathryn sets the door ajar to peer out into the expansive foyer. Instantly, all the noise that had been echoing through the buildings foundations slams into my ears.
“What’s going on out there?” I ask.
“Our distraction,” Rand replies, “so that we could get you in and out without resistance.”
“Our distraction has just backfired,” Kathryn grumbles. She closes the door, sealing us in the relative quiet. ‘The only way in and out of this place is through that foyer. And it’s overflowing with underwalkers.’
“So we slip out in the chaos,” Caden says. No big deal.
“I don’t think you understand the word chaos.”
“Where’s Elodie when you need her,” Rand sighs, shaking his head.
“Wait.” Kathryn nudges the door open again. After a minute, she says, “There.”
Rand moves next to her, peering over her shoulder at the chaos beyond.
“She’s there. Do you see?”
Rand shakes his head. “I see her, but she’s too far away. There’s no way for us to signal from here. In all the chaos, she’ll never see it.”
