Dying Light

by Kory M. Shrum

  Maisie’s sobs quiet. “You really want me here?”

  “Of course. Don’t be stupid.”

  She wiggles free of us and wipes her snotty nose on her sleeve. “I don’t mind looking out for Winston.”

  “Good. Now let’s get out of here before we’re all arrested.”

  I slide into the backseat next to Rachel, and she immediately wraps her arms around me.

  “You’re doing so much better than me,” she says.

  I cast a last look at the burning house. “You’re kidding.”

  “I tried to stab you,” she says. “You’re just blowing up a few houses. It’s fine.”

  Her earnestness makes me smile if only for a minute. Then the reality that everything I own is burning to the ground hits my chest like a cold stone again.

  “We have insurance,” Ally says from the passenger seat. “Possessions can be replaced.”

  But not a life, I think. This life is dead.

  Chapter 62

  Ally

  We pull into the cemetery just as the sun dips behind the horizon. It gives the early winter night a red glow. Now that we’re wearing proper coats, I feel warmer than I ever did in Chicago. A thin layer of frost tints the grass between the paved drive and the gravestone.

  Maisie wants to wait in the car with Winston, the heater running.

  “Will you be okay?” I ask her. “They just need a little time with an old friend.”

  “I’m okay,” Maisie says and snuggles up to Winston.

  I bring a thick fleece blanket from the car and lay it down on the grave before the marker.

  Rachel is the first to put her hand on the stone, tears in her eyes. “Oh B. You stubborn bastard.”

  Gideon snorts. “He was that.”

  “Don’t talk about him that way,” Jesse says. “He’s dead.”

  Rachel takes Jesse’s hand and squeezes it. Jesse lets her. Then Rachel grabs Gideon’s hand and does the same.

  I scoot back a little, giving them their moment.

  “He’d like this,” Rachel says, placing her head on Jesse’s shoulder. “The three of us, together.”

  “Not that we’re fighting,” Gideon says. “But otherwise, yes, I believe you’re right.”

  “It’s my fault he’s dead,” Jesse says, tears forming in her eyes. “If I could’ve just killed Caldwell —”

  “Hey.” I place a hand on her back. “You didn’t break Brinkley’s neck.”

  “He didn’t want you to fight,” Rachel says.

  “You don’t know that,” Jesse says through the snot.

  “Uh, actually I do. He asked me to kill Caldwell so that you wouldn’t have to.”

  Gideon is the only one of us who doesn’t look surprised.

  Rachel shrugs at our expressions. “Everyone is allowed to have their favorites.”

  Gideon squeezes her hand. “You’re mine.”

  She gives him a placating smile before turning to Jesse. “And you’re mine too, Jessup. Not one person here believes you’re to blame for any of this.”

  Jesse pulls away from her and scoots closer to me. I open my coat and tuck her inside. Her cold hands clasp behind my back.

  We fall silent. Jesse grows warm in my arms and Rachel leans against Gideon. We stay there until the last of the light dies and night creeps up on us.

  I replay everything that Nikki, Gloria, and Jeremiah told me. She’s going to become less stable as she acquires power. She will be the apex. She will destroy the world. Be her voice of reason.

  I’m the first to break the silence. “At least we figured out who the partis are. We’ve seen their faces.” I give Jesse a brief recap of Brinkley’s list and Gloria’s belief that there were eight partis left.

  “But Cindy and Minli are dead, so that’s six,” I say.

  “Seven,” Jesse says. “Because no one absorbed it, Minli’s power will transfer to someone else. So there’s a partis out there that we don’t know about.”

  Caldwell. Georgia. Maisie. Jesse. Rachel. Monroe…and someone new. “I guess I’ll have to go through the list again—but it didn’t have Georgia or Maisie on it, so maybe I need a better method.”

  “Jeremiah said he saw everyone get ‘called’.” Jesse uses air quotes. “We’ll make him tell us who the seventh partis is.”

  “Should we do that first?” Rachel asks with a mischievous grin.

  “No, now we disappear,” Gideon says, his eyes still on the gravestone.

  “We can’t disappear and pretend none of this is happening.” Even as Jesse says it, I get a sense that it’s exactly what she wants to do. Hope tinges her words.

  “We won’t be gone forever,” Gideon adds, standing and brushing off his knees.

  Rachel stands and wraps her coat around herself tighter. “We need some time. We are always reacting to Caldwell. He makes a plan, sets it in motion, and we jump.”

  It’s true. And it was worse when we tried to act under Jeremiah’s guidance. I’m glad to be away from Tate Tower and on our own again.

  Gideon grins. “We’re going to change that. With your lovely talents, tenacious bodies, and my copious amounts of money, favors, and technology, we are going to make the plans.”

  Gideon and Rachel go back to the car, fingers still laced together. I pull Jesse to her feet and pick up the blanket. Jesse holds the other end, helping me fold it in half, then quarter it.

  “What happened with Nikki?” she asks me.

  I exhale, searching for the right words. “I like her, but now just isn’t the right time.”

  She nods. “We do have a lot going on.”

  “What happened with Gabriel?” I ask her. I’m hoping she opens up about the apex stuff soon. I can’t be her voice of reason if I don’t know what he’s telling her.

  She looks out over the cemetery and then meets my eyes. “He said I can have whatever I want.”

  She’s going to become less stable as she acquires power. She will be the apex. She will destroy the world. I drown out all the voices who want to decide Jesse’s fate for her. I push back the fear and find my love. I bring it to the surface of my mind and hold onto the warmth of it until my voice finds me again.

  “And what do you want?” I ask.

  She smiles, coming closer. She wraps her arms around me, her face nearly touching mine. “I want you.”

  I smile, drop the blanket, and take her face in my hands. “You have me.”

  Keep reading for an exclusive peek at

  the fifth novel in the Dying for a Living series,

  Worth Dying For

  coming May 2, 2016.

  Jesse

  All this screaming hurts my ears.

  “Nine, Eight, Seven—”

  Ally presses her body against mine, counting down with the crowd.

  I open my coat, letting her slip her chilled arms around me. I try to protect her from the worst of the unforgiving wind cutting across our cheeks and tearing at our hair. “I never understood the countdown. Are they trying to build tension?”

  Her grin stretches wider and she squeezes me again. “Four, three—”

  “It’s not like we don’t know what’s happening.” I gesture at the swarm of bodies clustered on the balcony around us. My sides and back are protected by their mass, but leaning against the concrete railing leaves us utterly exposed in the front. If only we were more in the middle of the balcony, then Ally and I could be the queen bees of this hive, the drones vibrating to keep us warm.

  “One—”

  I gasp, pantomiming shock. “Oh look, the New Year. What a surprise! I had no idea what was going to happen when we reached one!”

  Ally tugs me forward by the lapels of my coat. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  The balcony erupts in chaos, everyone singing, cheering, and sucking on each other’s faces. The ruckus is blocked out by Ally’s palms covering my ears as we kiss. Her hair smells like some kind of fruity shampoo, and her lips taste like the wine she drank earlier. I kiss her deeper, my
hands twining up in her hair. I don’t care who sees us or what they think.

  Tonight is all about us. Me and Ally. Gideon, Rachel, and Maisie. We’re celebrating. After weeks and weeks, we finally have a plan for taking down Caldwell. And it’s a good plan.

  Ally pulls back, laughing. “I can’t breathe.”

  “You started it.” I pull her close again, kissing her.

  “I have to breathe,” she says, chest heaving.

  “Right. Sorry. I forgot you have to do that.”

  I assault her cheeks and neck instead. She devolves into laughter, hanging heavy and drunk in my arms.

  “Stop, stop,” she begs, trying squirm away.

  “I can’t. I’ll die.” But I do stop long enough for her to catch her breath, and because I know firsthand that if I torment a drunk girl for too long, my chances of getting vomited on increases tenfold.

  Gideon and Rachel stumble forward from the crowd arms around each other. Their dark eyes reflect the dancing lights coming from everywhere. Billboards. Lighters. The ball itself.

  A boom makes us all jump. A second after the boom comes a pop and a dozen strands of red light rain down on us. Fireworks.

  “We should head back,” Gideon says, pushing his black frame glasses up on his nose before tightening his hold on a sagging Rachel. “Or risk being crushed by the crowd.”

  “Where’s Maisie?” Rachel’s glazed eyes slide from one face to another without really seeing anyone. She buries her chin in the neck of her jacket.

  “Here.” Maisie shouts over the roar. “I’m freezing. So if everyone is done making out, I’d like to go check on Winnie Pug.”

  Ally frowns. “We weren’t making out. It’s good luck to kiss on New Year’s Eve.”

  “It is,” Gideon adds with a devilish smile. “Do you want a little kiss for yourself?”

  My nostrils flare. “I will cut you.”

  “I don’t need your charity slobber.” Maisie flips her hair over one shoulder. “I kissed that guy.”

  We all turn and see a kid not much older than Maisie, also sporting the double black X marks of the underaged on his hands. He’s grinning, goofy but cute. His black hair hangs in his eyes. Black eyeliner encircles his lids. Very emo and totally Maisie’s type.

  What does one do when they find out their little sister has been making out with some unkempt boy on a balcony? How the hell should I know? A month ago I didn’t even know I had a little sister, but our father is an absolute Hitler, so I stole her and here she is, safe—relatively, with me. So what if I don’t know what to make of her on most days.

  What I do know is I’m not her mother and where she puts her mouth is none of my damn business.

  I shrug. “Good for you.”

  “Call me, Michelle!” The boy yells as the five of us start to push our way off the balcony into the club.

  “Michelle?” I hold the door open for everyone.

  “I couldn’t give him my real name, could I?” Maisie yanks her beanie down over her red ears.

  Good point. We’ve been on the run for almost a month. No one knows where we are, and we have to keep it that way. Gideon’s fancy gadgets, money, and stealth skills won’t hide us from my murderous father for too long. We need to be careful until we want him to come to us, until we have him right where we need him to be.

  I grab Ally’s hand and pull her into the club after Maisie. Rachel and Gideon take up the rear. For the few minutes it takes us to squeeze past the crowd toward the street, we’re warm. The collective body heat of a hundred revelers is welcome despite the sour smell of beer and sweat. And unless I’m mistaken, that tang is vomit. Gross.

  I reach forward and grab Maisie’s hand so we don’t get separated. She twines her cool fingers with their chipping black nail polish in mine and pulls all of us out toward the street. We regroup on the sidewalk as people shoulder past us on all sides. The fierce wind picks up right where it left off, gnawing ruthlessly at my cheeks. I wrap my blood-red scarf tighter around my head in feeble attempt to protect myself.

  Ally slips her arms around my waist, and I tuck her icy hands into my pockets. She is so cuddly when she’s drunk. I love it. I should keep her drunk all the time. She’s brilliant and can spare the brain cells, but alas, I guess there’s her liver to consider.

  Maisie leads our little group in the direction of our hotel. Thank god, it’s only about five blocks away. I don’t know how much of this bitter wind I can take. I see more drunk people than I’ve ever seen in my life. I’ve only had two Shirley Temples, which left a sloshy feeling in my stomach that I tried to soak up with super greasy cheese sticks.

  A really dumb idea.

  I probably feel as nauseated as the drunk people shambling around me.

  As soon as I see the neon sign of our hotel glowing overhead, I break from the group and rush into the warm lobby. I yank my scarf off my head, pulling the breath-damp fabric off of my face.

  “I’m sick of being cold.” I groan. “I’m so glad we’re heading—”

  Gideon shoots me a look that I’ve memorized at this point. Don’t say anything until we’re in the suite.

  “—somewhere warm.” I roll my eyes and pile into the elevator with them. Rachel is so drunk she mashes the buttons for floors 14 and 16 before managing to hit the correct button, number 15.

  Somehow we make it to the room, a suite at the end of a beige hallway with red carpet. Gideon slides the keycard in and out of the slot and the light flickers green.

  Maisie is the first one in. “Winnie Pug? Pug-Pug where are you?”

  The pug in question leaps off a white Victorian chaise and runs toward her. He presents his belly for a rub in three seconds flat.

  The rest of us squeeze past them into the foyer of the suite. This hotel room alone is nicer than any house I’ve ever slept in, but that’s Gideon for you. Rachel made the suggestion that we sleep in an abandoned house one night on the road from Chicago to New York, and he snorted and arched his eyebrows at her. Then in the most self-righteous tone I’d ever heard, he said, “I have two legs not four. I do not sleep on the ground.”

  Gideon throws his keycard on the lacquered table by the door. Ally and I kick off our shoes. Rachel pulls off just about every layer of clothing she swaddled herself in except her underwear.

  “Well then,” Ally says, nodding at Rachel’s boobs. “Good night.”

  Rachel stumbles into her unlit bedroom without a word of acknowledgement.

  “Such a good boy,” Maisie coos, scratching Winston’s ears, then patting his fat belly. “You wanna go out? Let’s go out.”

  She finds his leash on a table by the door and slips it over his head while he prances circles around her, too excited to make the harnessing easy.

  “Take Gideon’s shield thingy.” I point at the device on the counter.

  “It’s freezing out there,” Ally reminds her, still hanging on to me. “Go to the little pee patch and come right back.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Maisie’s tone is annoyed, but she’s smiling. I think she likes the way Ally babies her, even though Ally can’t be more than nine years older than Maisie herself. But the kid is taking it well, the whole ‘never-unsupervised’ thing. This little two-minute jaunt with Winston is about as much space and freedom as she’s had in her months with us.

  Gideon disappears into the bedroom after Rachel and softly closes the door behind them. I nudge Ally toward the couch.

  “So what’ll it be?” I ask her. “Water? Juice? I don’t think we actually have Gatorade, but I can walk down to the store.”

  “Water’s fine.” Ally falls back against the covers and grins up at me. A light pink blush spreads over her cheeks. She finger-combs her hair. “My hair is so pretty. I love my hair.”

  I snort. “I love your hair too.”

  “What else about me is cute?” she asks.

  “Everything.” I fluff the pillow for her and search the room for a blanket. I yank a red velvety throw off the back of a chair as
Gideon slips out of the bedroom and passes me on his way to the mini fridge. He grabs one of the wrapped water glasses from the bar above.

  “Grab us one too.” I have zero problems assigning tasks to other people. Sometimes I wonder if it was a mistake going into death-replacing. Sure, I was a great death replacement agent, and dying for other people is cool, but I’m really good at bossing people around.

  It’s like a calling.

  Gideon fills two water glasses with some fancy bottled water from the fridge and hands me a glass. I don’t dare remind him that Ally vowed not to drink this water yesterday. She ranted about the effect of plastic on the environment for almost ten whole minutes. I could’ve reminded her that planet is about to explode anyway, but that meant Gideon would’ve won the argument and I’m Team Ally all the way.

  I put the glass of water in her hand. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Here you go. Drink up.”

  She waves her water around. “I just feel so good, you know?”

  I smile. “I can tell.”

  She runs a hand through her hair. “It’s a new year. A new beginning. And we have a great plan for kicking Caldwell’s butt.”

  “We do.”

  “And you’re so cute and you kissed me.”

  With arched eyebrows, Gideon closes the bedroom door behind him. Thankfully, the sound of the television comes on, affording us some privacy.

  I sink down onto the sofa beside her. “I’ll do it again if you want me too. I’ll kiss you a million times.”

  She bites her lip and I’m about to lose it. I lean forward to kiss her but she starts talking again, so I hang there mid-smooch, lips puckered.

  “Life is so good right now. No one is stabbing us, burying us alive, beating us up, or kidnapping the dog,” she goes on, her voice echoing inside her water glass. Her face pinches. “That means we are probably about to die.”

  I press my lips together and sigh. “None of that. You’ll jinx us.”

  It’s difficult getting her to sit up, but I manage it. I want her to drink this water. I tilt the glass toward her lips, encouraging her.