by Kyra Dune
He lived in a neighborhood equally as nice as my grandparents, but with smaller houses. I stepped up on the porch. My throat was dry and part of me wanted to turn and run away, but I was determined to talk to Zack. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and rang the doorbell.
I waited with my hands clasped in front of me, hoping this whole thing wasn’t as desperately lame as it seemed. The porch light clicked on and I blinked, momentarily blinded by the unexpected brightness.
The front door opened. “Who are you? What do you want?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.
When the black spots faded from my eyes, I saw a tall man in a blue bathrobe frowning at me from the doorway. The entire left side of his face was a mess of mottled scars. I drew a sharp breath in through my teeth as I took a step back. A horrible reaction, I know. But I couldn’t help it.
My face flooded with heat. “M-my name is Abigail. I know it’s pretty late, but I really need to talk to Zack. Can I come in?”
“No.” He started to shut the door.
I surprised us both by jumping forward to slap my hand on the door while simultaneously sticking my foot in between it and the frame. “Please, it’s important.”
His frown deepened into a scowl, making him look a great deal like Zack. “You are not welcome in my home.”
“Then ask Zack to come outside.”
“Does Alastair know you’re out running around in the middle of the night?” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should call him.”
“No, don’t do that.” I jerked my foot out of the way. “I’ll go.”
He slammed the door in my face. I winced, wondering if his anger was about what Derek had done or if it was because I was a hybrid. I suspect it was a little of both. Shoulders slumped, I turned and stepped off the porch. I told myself it was for the best. It was stupid of me to go there anyway.
I paused when I heard the muffled sound of raised voices. Zack slammed out of the house. He stood there bare footed, arms crossed, and glared at me. “What do you want?”
My lips parted, but my thoughts kind of fizzled. Zack was wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama shorts and the porch light was hitting him in such a way as to accentuate every rippling muscle in his lean frame. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Like you’ve never had your brain short circuited by some hottie.
“Uh,” I cleared my throat and forced my gaze away from his abs. He had a six pack, by the way. Just thought I’d throw that out there. “I wanted to talk to you about Derek.” Not exactly true, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I needed to try and find my anger again so my brain could focus on something besides the barely dressed boy standing in front of me.
Zack’s jaw tightened. “I told you, if you want to see Derek you have to talk to Alastair.”
“But I did see him.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t so smart of me to say so, but I guess I was kind of hoping when I told Zack what was going on with Derek, he might be as appalled as I was. Maybe he would even help me get my brother away from the compound.
But the moment I said the words he got this look on his face. This guilty sort of look. And when I tried to catch his eye, he dropped his gaze to his feet. “You knew.” I took a step toward the porch. I had found my anger. “You knew all along what was happening to him and you didn’t do one thing to stop it?”
“He deserves worse.”
I started to say something nasty, but stopped myself. Yeah, I was angry and I was hurting, but so was he. “Because of your mom?”
Zack’s head snapped up. “He told you?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me.” I laid my hand on the rail. “I know she was a tracker. Like you. Did she...did she kill my parents?”
“I don’t know.” Zack sagged down to the top step. He braced his elbows on his knees and pressed his head into his hands. “I was only five, I don’t remember. It’s not something she would have told me.”
“But trackers did kill my parents.” I walked slowly up the steps. “It wasn’t Megara.”
He nodded.
I sat beside him, careful to keep enough distance so we didn’t touch. “That baby, Toby, he was a hybrid wasn’t he? It’s why his parents went renegade.”
He nodded.
“And now he...” I grasped my knees to hide the trembling in my hands. “He’s dead, isn’t he? Because that’s what they do to hybrids. What they would have done to me if my parents hadn’t run.” I wanted so badly for him to tell me it wasn’t true, even though I knew it was.
“It’s our law,” he spoke into his hands.
“So that makes it right?”
“I used to think so.” He lifted his head and looked at me, so many emotions warring across his face. “I was raised to hate hybrids. To consider them monsters. We all were.”
“So, you hate me?” I can’t even begin to describe how I felt to hear him say those words. “You think I’m a monster who deserves to die?”
“Yes. No. I don’t...” He clenched his fists and made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. You aren’t like they said. You’re supposed to be evil and dangerous. I was taught hybrids are a threat to our way of life. That it’s in your nature to destroy everything you come across. Then I met you, and you have family and friends you obviously love. You’re a good person. And I don’t know if it’s because you were raised outside the clans, if you’re some kind of onetime oddity, or if everything I’ve been taught is a lie. It’s confusing.”
“Why didn’t Alastair order you to kill me when you found me? Why bring me here?” I thought I knew the answer, but I had to hear it from him.
He sighed. “They want you to kill Megara.”
“And after? If I kill Megara, what then? They’ll kill me, won’t they?” Anger was building up again. How dare these people hate me for something I had no control over. I didn’t ask to be born a hybrid. They had no right to use me to their own ends then dispose of me like I was garbage. Like my life meant nothing.
Zack stared out across the lawn. “If you survive your battle with Megara, a tracker already has the kill order straight from Alastair. Has had it since the day the spirit dragon told him you were still alive.”
So, my grandfather never had any interest in me as his son’s daughter, only as a means to an end. I can’t say I was surprised, and yet it still hurt. “Is it Alice?”
For a long moment, he didn’t reply. When the words finally came, they were spoken softly, but they couldn’t have hit me any harder if he'd shouted them. “I have the order.”
I drew in a sharp breath, then quickly looked away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. “So that’s why you’ve been so standoffish. You wouldn’t want to make friends with someone you’re going to kill.”
“Abigail, I--”
“I think we’re done here.” I stood. “I’ve heard everything I needed to hear. Thanks for your honesty.” I had wanted the truth, well I’d gotten it. More than I could stand. “I should get back before somebody misses me.” I hurried down the steps. I didn’t want him to see me cry.
He didn’t try to stop me, for which I’m glad. I wasn’t spooked by any imaginary dangers on the way back to my grandparents house. I had too many of the real kind to worry about. Never had I had to deal with anything like this. Sure, it was hard when my aunt and uncle were killed, but this was something different.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved them, but we weren’t close. I hadn’t even seen them in the two years before it happened. Their deaths were awful, but they were distant, you know what I mean? It didn’t have much to do with me. This time it was my brother’s life on the line. And my own.
I had been wrapped up in a kind of cocoon for sixteen years, never really thinking anything bad could ever happen to me. Never having any real responsibility. And now not only was I responsible for taking care of myself, someone else’s life was also in my hands. Not to mention the first boy I’d ever considered as having the potential to be more than a crush was supposed to kill
me. It was a lot to deal with.
I slipped in through the back door and stood in the kitchen for a minute, listening. I heard nothing to suggest my grandparents might be awake. So I went over to the wall phone and lifted the receiver, but my fingers hesitated over the numbers. Brandy was my best friend, she was the only person I could think to turn to in my hour of need. But she thought I was dead and when she found out I wasn’t she was going to be really mad. I told myself it wouldn’t matter. She would help me out of this mess as she always had no matter how angry she was. Only I couldn’t convince myself it was true.
“Oh well, only one way to find out,” I muttered as I punched in her phone number.
It rang five times before her groggy voice answered. “Hello?”
I can’t even begin to tell you how good it was to hear her voice. “Hey, Brandy.”
A sharp gasp came over the line. “Abby?”
“Surprise.” Lame, I know. In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a knack for lame. But what was I supposed to say? What would you say to someone you loved who thought you were dead?
“Wha... How? I... I ... Oh my god, you’re supposed to be dead!”
“I know.” My knees were suddenly too weak to hold me up. I backed against the wall and slid slowly to the floor. “And I’m really, really sorry about--”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?” Brandy’s voice had reached a level of shrill she reserved only for my worst moments of stupidity. “No. No, Abby. No. Not this time. Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not even close. You let me and your parents... And Curtis. My god, Abigail, how could you do this to him after everything he’s been through? We thought you were...” Her voice grew thick. It was alarming, I had never heard Brady this upset. My own throat closed up in sympathy.
“That truck stopped burned to the ground,” she continued. “And we all thought you were inside. We didn’t even have a body to bury. We didn’t have your ashes. You want to know what we put in your casket? Pictures. Mementos. Memories. It’s all we had. How could you do this to us? Why did you do it? No, wait, don’t answer. I don’t think I want to know. I don’t think I even care. You went too far this time.”
By the time she’d finished her tirade, I was crying big sloppy tears. “I-I d-did it to p-protect you. A-all of you.” I hiccupped. “Or I thought I did.” I wiped a hand across my nose. “You don’t understand what--”
“I don’t want to understand.” Her voice was wet, but she wasn't sobbing as I was. On the rare occasions when Brandy cried she didn’t make a mess of it like most people do. She cried like she did most everything else, with quiet elegance.
I pressed my face into my arm, crying so hard I was afraid Alastair and Mi Mi would hear and come down to investigate. I must have sat there for five minutes before I could pull myself back together again.
Leaving the phone to dangle by its cord, I got up and went to the sink to splash some cold water on my face. I gripped the counter and leaned forward, my hair hanging across my face. I knew I had to calm down. Hysteria wasn’t going to help me or Derek.
I glanced at the microwave. The glowing numbers informed me it was now a little past one o’clock in the morning. I went to the phone and lifted the receiver back to my ear, terrified I would hear nothing but the dial tone.
“Brandy, are you still there?”
“Yes.” It’s amazing how much anger she could cram into such a little word. “Though I don’t know why. I should hang up, it’s no more than you deserve.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I would deserve it. But don’t, okay?” I leaned my forehead against the wall. “I’m in trouble. I need your help.” The silence which followed my words lasted so long I would have thought she had hung up if not for the sound of her uneven breathing in my ear.
“You need my help.” Brandy sounded as if she were trying to decide whether to laugh or scream. She settled on a sound somewhere in the middle. I winced. “You have some nerve calling me up in the middle of the night asking for my help after you let me spend three months thinking you were dead.”
She was right and I would have liked nothing better than to hang up the phone and give her some time to deal. But I didn’t have time. “I know you hate me right now, but if you don’t help I really will be dead this time.”
Brandy blew a breath out through her teeth. I know I couldn’t see her, but I recognized the sound. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain, but you have to let me talk without asking a million questions, okay?” Something which would not be easy for Brandy. I swear sometimes talking to her was like sitting through a police interrogation.
“All right, I’m listening.” I could imagine Brandy crossing her arms and pursing her lips. “You better make it good.”
So I told her everything, just laid it all out there. Even my feelings for Zack. When I was done I actually felt kind of better. Talking to your best friend can be cathartic like that. “Oh, Brandy, I just want to come home and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“And if you do come home?” she asked. “What then? What’s to keep them from coming after you again?”
Trust sensible Brandy to go straight for the most logical question which had never even crossed my mind. “I didn’t think about that. So what am I going to do? You’re the genius, help me out here.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I have no one else. You’re my best friend.”
“That is a low trick, you know. Using the best friend card every time good sense would tell me it’s time to let you clean up your own messes.”
Relief rushed through me. For a few minutes there, I had really thought she was going to turn her back on me this time. And I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. “It may be a low trick, but it always works.”
“Yes it does.” Brandy sighed. “What do you need me to do?”
I thought it over for a second. “Do you know anybody who can fly a helicopter?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning I was up and heading out of the house before Mi Mi could call me down for breakfast. No way could I sit through another meal with her and Alastair. I was too wired thinking about my escape plan and one of them was bound to notice.
“Abby?” Mi Mi came to the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Aren’t you going to have breakfast?”
“No thanks.” I pulled the front door open. “I’m not hungry.”
I ran all the way to school, trying to burn off some of my pent up energy. Panting, I paused outside to wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. A few kids stared, but mostly I got that ‘she doesn’t exist vibe,’ which was fine with me. I was soon to be rid of this place and these people, and I couldn’t wait.
In English class I sat in my chair at the back of the room and tried to concentrate on the teacher. But my gaze kept straying to the clock on the wall. The first time I looked it was two minutes past eight. I shuffled the books around my desk. Then I looked again. Five minutes past eight.
I stretched my shoulders back and told myself I had to stop looking. The lunch bell would ring when it was time and me looking at the clock wasn’t going to help. But the clock was like a magnet, drawing my gaze back again. Seven minutes past eight. A scream built up in my chest. Was this day never going to end?
It was like this all morning, until I was sure I was going to have a heart attack by noon. Luckily none of the teachers wanted any more to do with me than my fellow students did, so I didn’t have to worry about anybody calling on me to answer a question I never heard them ask.
At eleven fifty I was sitting in science class totally ignoring the slide show the teacher was showing. I was glued to the clock, watching each agonizing second tick by. My head was pounding from how hard I was concentrating, as if I could speed up time by the sheer force of my will alone.
The bell rang five minutes earlier than I expected. I jumped in my seat, letting out a little shriek. Every head in the room swiveled in my direction. He
at flooded my face as I gathered up my books and then fled the room.
Kids were flooding the hall as I made my way to the cafeteria, but they melted out of my way as I walked. This had bothered me for awhile, but now I was glad not to have to push my way through a crowd.
In the cafeteria line, I stood tapping my foot, wishing the kids ahead of me would hurry it up. I would have went straight out to find Hannah, but my stomach was cramping from skipping breakfast. I grabbed a few random items and dropped them on my tray, paid out, and hurried as fast as I could toward the door to the yard.
Hannah was hanging out at a picnic table with a couple of other kids who were also dressed head to toe in black. I caught her attention and motioned for her to join me on the other side of the school, which was where I’d been eating my lunch every day. I went on ahead of her so I could eat.
“What’s up?” Hannah asked as she settled down on the ground next to me.
“I’m getting out of here,” I said around a mouthful of tuna.
“Gross.” Hannah wrinkled her nose. “You think you could swallow before you talk? Not loving the view.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. Skipped my breakfast.”
“Yeah well, seeing your half chewed tuna surprise makes me wish I’d skipped mine.” She grabbed my soda and popped the top. “You got a plan?”
“I do.” I snatched my soda back before she could put it to her lips. “I’m going to rescue Derek from that hole in the ground and get us both over the wall. Hopefully without killing anybody in the process. I have a friend on the outside...” I trailed off, making a face. “God, I sound like a character in a prison movie.”
Hannah leaned back on her hands, her expression gone serious. “For some people this place is a prison.”
