Bluefall.
This is Franny’s baby. But if her child is a fall … and not a castle—it means Franny died in childbirth. I stare at the older version of myself. His crimson hands, the hands of someone who tried to save a life. He helped deliver the baby, I think.
He watched Franny die.
I stand stoic. Trying to remind myself that Franny is right beside me. Breathing. Alive. I am not him.
He is empty.
And so very alone.
Future Stork tries to speak, but his words break into a sob. He fights to raise his grief-stricken gaze, and he says clearly, “I love you, dove. One day, you’ll know how much.”
Another boom, and he runs out of sight. Leaving my older version and the baby.
Franny has her hand partially over her eyes. Distraught, her pulse like a knife unknowing where to cut and stabbing haphazardly.
Stork is watching her with concern, and then looks to the hologram as future Court speaks.
“No one knew this would happen,” he continues quickly. “Not until she was conceived. Zima is the first child born of a Saltarian and a lifeblood. When Franny was pregnant, Zima’s abilities started emerging. The green hair was just as unexpected.” A gun blast pops in the distance. He holds her closer. “You both wanted to name her after him.”
“Zimmer,” Franny mutters his name, pain twists her stomach.
“Stork and Franny, if you’re listening, you need to know—you did not make this choice lightly. You never imagined sending her to a foreign planet. Franny, you did not want to do what our parents did to us.” He checks over his shoulder. “If the baby stays here, she will die. We will all be gone soon, and by sending Zima, you knew she’d have a chance at life and to extend the lives of thousands of others.”
The hologram sputters out, and then rapidly blinks back. More gunshots popping.
“I have no more time left. Once you find Zima, do everything in your power to make it to Earth. It’s then you’ll know you’ve succeeded, and you’ll have changed our future.” He pauses to say, “We never made it. Mykal, Franny, and I—we never saw Earth.” Gravely, he tells us, “May the gods be in your spirit.” He looks down at the baby. “And she in your heart—”
The hologram sucks into the stone, the video vanishing.
My head suddenly whips to the left—a blow to my jaw. Not my jaw. “Where is Mykal—?”
I duck, metal crashing down on my shoulders, his shoulders. Before he can make sense of what’s happening, he’s kicked to the ground.
I’m kicked.
I kneel—gods dammit. I stand up. He tears at limbs, his rage surging, and I hear Franny and Stork beside me. Screaming my name, but their voices are distant to his overwhelming senses.
His wrath. And pain, ripping through me.
“Mykal!” I cry.
I can’t lose him.
I can’t let that future be ours.
THIRTY-NINE
Mykal
Six Romulus cadets.
That’s how many it takes to restrain me in the hotel suite.
They’ve shackled my ankles together with some sort of metal ring and chained my other hand to the leg of the bed. All the while poking me with an electrowand.
I grit my teeth in pain and boiling ire. Spit spews between my furious lips, and I struggle to escape. Growling and wrestling against the restraints. I tug and tug, the bed creaking but not moving.
They laugh like they finally caught their prey.
Another zap to my thigh, and my muscles spasm. My shoulders fall back against the shiny wooden floorboards. Lying face-up on the ground, a steel-pointed shoe stomps on my opened palm, each little bone snapping underneath the weight.
I release a gritty scream, and then a boot suddenly crushes my throat like a mountain lion sits atop my windpipe. Get off. Instinct grabs hold, and I ache to tear this boot off my neck.
But I can’t lift my left hand out from under the steel shoe. And so I jerk my right wrist against the chains. The leg of the bed starts cracking. Wood splitting.
The cadet presses harder on my throat.
Air is stuck in my lungs, and tiny spots blanket my vision.
Don’t give up.
I wrench with all my force, the metal chain digging into my flesh—but the wooden leg is starting to break.
I can feel my eyes rolling back in my head. And my wrist goes slack.
“Heya, he’s going to pass out,” the bossiest cadet snaps. “Lift your boot.”
The tall, freckle-faced cadet complies, and I choke on air. Gasping. My throat swells in pain, and they laugh some more.
Wretched luck. It’s what I focus on—my poor, ugly luck—while sweat slips down my temples and my tongue is thick in my mouth with snot and spit. Or else I’ll be thinking about Court and Franny, and I can’t think of them without fear punching my gut.
I pray to the gods that they’re not feeling this torture.
I’m not sure how the cadets found us. If there are cameras outside the hotel, or maybe we were spotted in the east wing. But just as Zimmer and I were checking on an empty suite, we heard footsteps banging up the stairwell and the door whooshed open right beside us.
Six Romulus cadets emerged in burgundy StarDust uniforms, and the looks on their faces—like they’d just discovered the rarest and most prized bear among all the lands—is not something I’ll be forgetting easily.
They grabbed at Zimmer first. Just tossed him like a sack of potatoes into the opened suite.
Seven shocks with the electrowand and they had me subdued enough to shove me right behind him. Then the door swung closed.
Locked in.
Without the boot on my throat, I yell between my teeth and fight against the metal clasps on my ankles and the chain on my wrist. When I try to rip my hand from underneath the shoe, a bossy, short-haired lady cadet holds out her hand to another. “Adrian,” she snaps. “Pass me the electrowand.”
Adrian is the one stepping on my damned hand. His voice is shrill, and his barbed eyes gleam wickedly. “You lost yours, Henna. You can’t have mine.” He’s bulkier than the others, and he leans more of his weight on my opened palm.
I growl, “You—”
He zaps my side, and I shut up all right. Muscles burning, I shake violently, as helpless as a tree limb in a snowstorm.
I hear the sound of splashing water, a vicious struggle coming from the bathroom.
“Leave him be!” I holler, my pain subsiding to a dull throb. I don’t have eyes on Zimmer. A younger boy dragged him into the bathroom, and the only thing I’ve been hearing is that water. They’re hurting him. I don’t have to be a Wonder to know that.
Henna smiles a nasty smile. “Don’t worry about your bludrader friend. He’s being dealt with.”
I scream harsh obscenities, my throat rubbed raw and my voice gnarled.
A third, much older cadet—gray wispy hair above his lip and nestled on his chin—squats near my face and presses his electrowand to the flesh beneath my eye. “I wonder,” he muses, voice deep and hollow. “What would happen if I shocked your eyeball. Would you lose sight or just die?”
“Probably die,” Adrian says, unknowingly releasing some of his weight off my hand. “Think about it, Igor. He’s weak. Jolee could slice him right now and he’d just pathetically bleed out.”
Jolee, I realize, is the leering lady with piercing green eyes and a mane of golden hair. She’s seated on an elegant blue chair and swings a battle-ax back and forth.
Just sitting. Just watching. Like a vulture on a branch, waiting to dive onto the carcass.
That ax—I recognize it from the Lucretzia. By the leaf emblem forged on the blade, it must be a human weapon. Not something anyone can find on a Saltare planet.
Her lip quirks as she catches me staring. “You like this?” she asks and inspects the ax with a fondness. “Plucked it straight off your precious Admiral Moura’s back.” My birth ma.
I glower, wrath suffocating me. Stealing my voice.
“Commander Theron let me have it. You want to know why?”
I’m about to yank my limbs every which way and growl until all noise dies out. But I remember Court. What he’d tell me to do. Calm down, Mykal.
My aggression quiets as I breathe and remember.
I may not be able to feel Court, not while I’m in this much pain, but we’re more than this strange link. He is still with me. No matter how heightened or how faint this bond becomes.
He’s still with me. Guiding me.
Stay calm.
Jolee twirls the battle-ax. “I’ll tell you why I was bestowed with this beauty. I’ve murdered more humans than I have lived years. It’s an accomplishment that had to be rewarded.”
I take advantage of her yammering and try to slip my hand free from the chain on the bed. Twisting and turning the cuff.
The tall, freckle-faced boy catches me and slams the end of a long iron rod onto the top of my hand. I scream in agony.
They laugh louder.
Energy starts draining from my body, but as pain fades and light wells in my head, I start to sense something …
I feel his heart in my chest.
Beating rapidly.
His lips … are moving.
Court is mouthing, Mykal.
Mykal.
Mykal.
Please don’t be feeling this, I want to tell Court. Please let this pain be mine alone.
He keeps repeating my name. Over and over. And soon, I realize that Court is trying to help me stay awake.
I blink. Hot, exhausted tears stinging down my cheeks. I focus on keeping my eyes open and conserving my strength.
The quiet freckle-faced cadet checks his watch like he’s waiting for something. Someone.
I imagine they did their jobs and called the commander, let him know they’ve wrangled and caught a human and a bludrader.
Everyone turns their head as the youngest cadet exits the bathroom. A tattooed hornet inks the side of his cheek, and he drags a limp body by the wrist. Strands of wet hair hang over Zimmer’s heavy-lidded eyes. Soaked from toe to head, wet tracks trail him along the floor. The young boy pulls Zimmer behind him, like he’s nothing more than a tree chopped down for wood.
I lay a nasty glare on the cadet. “You lay another finger on him and—”
Smack.
Steel-shoe makes contact with the side of my head. I dizzy something mad. The world around me spins, and they all start screaming at each other.
Stay awake.
I blink out the fuzzy lights.
“Don’t kill him!”
“Not yet!”
“We have to wait!”
“His lifebloods will be here any minute!”
What …
I think I dreamt that last one. Heard it all wrong. They can’t know that I’m tethered to Court and Franny. Right?
Adrian bends and taps at my cheek. “Wake up!” he yells. “You’re useless asleep.”
What are they even using me for?
I feel like I’m falling behind. Not catching on. I spit a wad of blood on the floorboards and pant for breath.
“Where are your lifebloods?” Henna barks. “They have to be feeling your pain.”
My jaw falls.
How could they have known? How long? And more than that, I understand what they’ve been doin’. Beating on me so that they don’t even have to go searching for Court and Franny.
They’re waiting for Court and Franny to come for me. I’m not their prey.
I’m bait.
Sickness rises to my throat, burns.
Henna glares. “I asked you a question. Where are your lifebloods?”
Another kick to the gut.
My breath hitches.
Igor strokes his gray-haired chin. “Did you think we didn’t know about your tether?” He lets out a husky laugh. I must be looking startled. The God of Victory is spitting on me.
Jolee passes her battle-ax from hand to hand. “We were watching you for thirty-one days while you were on the Romulus. You were the best entertainment the crew has seen in over three hundred years. The first time you tried to grab the electrowand from the guard—” She chortles. “You twitched around like a big, idiotic insect caught in a trap. And you know what we all saw? Your lifebloods stumbling around. Looking disoriented. In pain. I wonder why that could be?”
They’ve known about our link for that long, then.
Adrian grins. “The only thing that could have made it better was if you three didn’t whisper so much. Audio quality was lacking.”
Henna nods in agreement.
I lose it.
Furious, riled emotions push forth, and with energy restored, I wrench and wrench my wrist against the bed. Trying to break the whole damned thing apart.
It lasts for three seconds before a blow to the chin knocks my skull back into the floor. “Adrian!” They all yell at him. “Gentle.”
He snorts. “His lifebloods aren’t coming. Maybe they just don’t care—” He cuts himself off and spins around. Near him, a sea glass lamp is floating in midair off a glossy table. How is a lamp levitating like that?
Gods bless, I hit my head so hard, I’m seeing things. I blink.
The lamp has disappeared.
Adrian laughs uncertainly. “Did you all see—”
Thwack!
Adrian’s eyes roll back, the unseen force colliding with his head. His legs buckle, and he crumples into an unconscious heap. Finally pressure releases off my broken hand, but I can barely clench my fingers into a fist.
Henna gapes. “What the…”
Adrian’s electrowand suddenly rises off the floor, hovering. And then the weapon just vanishes like the lamp.
“Who’s in here?” Jolee shouts, strengthening her grip on the battle-ax.
Realization strikes me now. Someone else is in the room. Invisible—but here with us.
The only person I know who can cloak themselves is a teeny-tiny baby. Last I saw, she was strapped to Court.
Court.
Blood rushes back to my head, and then Henna drops to the floor in a seizing fit. The other Romulus cadets shoot to their feet and try to stalk an invisible enemy.
One second later, Igor’s head twists brutally, and he slumps to the ground. Out cold.
Court is fast and lithe with his attacks.
Just three left.
The tall, freckle-faced cadet.
The tattooed boy who hovers near Zimmer.
And Jolee.
She starts swinging the battle-ax aimlessly in the air like she means to hit Court. My nerves ricochet and I yank hard at the metal that chains my wrist to the bed.
The wooden leg cracks and breaks cleanly in two.
As soon as I free my hand, the freckle-faced cadet edges back to the wall. He hoists the long rod out in front of his tall frame.
No one is touching me.
I fumble with the metal locks on my ankles. Trying to unlatch these binds.
Jolee is still swinging her ax, and with enough force, Court’s head could be rolling clean off if she slices through his neck.
Urgency clings to me. Fear claws at me.
I’m not letting him die here.
Not for me.
Not like this.
I bellow, enraged spit flying and tears combining with snot. Snap. I look up at the harsh noise.
A body has hit the floor.
Not Court, please, not Court.
I quickly spot the boy with the hornet tattoo, slumped against an ornate dresser. Eyes shut.
“Demon!” the freckle-faced boy screams, the only word he’s spoken. He opens his mouth to yell again, but suddenly, a shard of sea glass appears in the side of his neck. Blood spews, and he chokes and falls to the floorboards.
“Show yourself!” Jolee screams, her mane of blond hair whipping as she spins around with the battle-ax.
She’s the last remaining cadet.
… and then I see Court.
In the cor
ner of the suite, he appears from thin air, standing with the baby strapped to his chest. His hands are stained crimson and his carriage rises and falls heavily. He whispers to the infant. As though coaxing her to make them invisible again.
Jolee is about to spot Court.
“HEYA!” I spit, and she whirls toward me. I scoot my body up against the bed, and my fortitude grips her attention. I taunt, “You think you’re so mighty?”
She stalks closer.
Court is still whispering to the baby.
“You’re all alone now.” My lip begins to curve upward. “Where I’m from, you’d be no one and nothin’—not even the God of Victory would waste breath on your ugly spirit.”
Jolee grimaces and with one last twirl of the weapon, she presses the cold metal up against my neck. I stiffen, feeling Court’s distress spike my pulse.
He is screaming inside, but outwardly, he’s more urgent. Forcing himself not to yell my name.
I’m all right, Court.
I try to feel at ease, but Jolee has the battle-ax flush on my skin, the force strong enough to nick the flesh. Blood trickles.
Fear like nothing I’ve felt before rushes into me with a sickening darkness. It’s not just mine. Court.
Franny.
Jolee whips her head around—and Court disappears in a blink before she can see him.
I expel a breath.
Her eyes blaze with a panicked fury. “Show yourself! Or I take his head!”
The door to the suite swings open. In a flood of panic, Stork and Franny storm inside without a second thought.
“MYKAL!” Franny screams.
The pressure on my neck intensifies, and I reach out to grip her wrist. To pry the damned weapon from her hand, but she swings the blade back—and she’s about to cut my neck cleanly.
“NOOO!” Franny cries out.
Just as Jolee whirls the ax at my head, Stork dives out in front of me. Wet, cold blood sprays my face as the blade slices through his arm. My brother.
Stork tumbles to the floor, his arm chopped right off—and at the same time, an invisible Court stabs sea glass into Jolee’s windpipe.
She gurgles, the ax slipping from her hands. She touches her throat and falls to her knees.
Stork groans in sheer, unadulterated agony, and I slide to him with bound ankles. I tear off my shirt and use the fabric to help stop the bleeding.
The Last Hope Page 31
