The Reverians Series Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  “No, this is when I inform you that Vider is smart, but that guy forgets who he’s messing with. Make it rain, Nona,” I say, pointing to the water sprinklers overhead. Her head flips up to the spigots lining the ceiling and then my intention dawns on her.

  “You think I can make those rain?”

  “I think they’re a water source, so yes. Just draw out the water piping to them,” I say, scanning the area to ensure we’re not missing a potential hazard. The plans Zack shared with me appear to be exact.

  “You got it, chief,” she says and raises her hand in the air, pointing at the closest spigot. Her face screws up with concentration. Her nose bunches up. Her lips press together.

  A zipping noise springs from the sprinkler and then a small spray of water. Too small.

  “Come on, Nona. Make it rain. Like monsoon rain.”

  She squeezes her eyes together and when they rip open there’s a heated determination written on her face. Her outstretched hand trembles. And then the sprinkler spurts out a few sprays of water followed by a steady rain.

  “Yeah,” I say in an excited whisper. “Brilliant job.”

  Nona drops her hand, looking exhausted.

  “One. Two. Three,” I count. “Voilà,” I say when all the lasers disappear at once.

  “How’d you know they’d do that?” Nona says, shielding her face from the water spraying overhead.

  “It’s a system rule Zack informed me about. The sprinklers override the laser system. Now shut that thing off,” I say, pointing to the sprinkler.

  She flicks her hand and the spraying turns into a small drizzle.

  I stalk toward the door on the other side.

  “Isn’t that going to get attention from Ted?” Nona asks, hurrying up beside me.

  “Nope,” I say, popping my lips together. “He monitors the cameras only and the sprinklers have been having this problem lately, which is why the lasers are programmed to turn off. Although water is harmless to the lasers, the system that powers them can be fried by it.”

  “You’re a genius,” Nona says in awe.

  I stick my ear up against the cold metal door, listening for any Middling activity on the other side. “Zack’s the brains. I’m just the freak with nothing left to lose and therefore every reason to put myself in danger.” I push the door open a few inches to gauge the scene on the other side.

  “You could still lose me,” Nona says in a tortured whisper.

  I flip my head around to face her. “That is never going to happen.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Five cameras were fried. One laser system shut down. And thousands of gallons of water have been boiled and then returned to room temperature. And now the chemical set up to trickle into the water supply does absolutely nothing. Soon the Middlings of Austin Valley will wake up to find themselves in an authentic state of being. They may find themselves suddenly stressed by the long hours of work. Or saddened by their run-down living quarters. Whatever they feel will be their true emotions. And then it will be time to destroy the brainwashing and finally recruit my army.

  Although my mind is spinning with the multiple tasks I’ve got to systematically accomplish, my thoughts are monopolized by a single worry:

  Tomorrow morning my best friend will marry my demonic sister.

  I throw all of my clothes into my duffel bag. I don’t have much, only things “bought” for me by Rogue. His gift of apportation ensured I always had whatever I needed. I pull the cashmere sweater he gave me from Paris over my head. I yank the sleeves over my thumbs and cuddle into the soft fabric. Rogue, like me, believed clothes should serve the person, not deceive others with a false appearance. I loved how utilitarian he always was with his dress. I smile thinking about him. He will always bring a smile to my face.

  My room will be professionally cleaned before Dee takes ownership of the house, but I do a double check under the bed and in the closet to ensure I haven’t missed anything. Tonight will be my last night here. Tomorrow morning, while everyone in the Valley is attending the wedding, I’ll move my belongings to Parker’s. It seems weird to think about being roommates with the doctor. But he’s my friend after all. It will definitely give Soon-hee the wrong idea and false hope about any romantic potential between Parker and me. And yet I don’t think her inkling about us is entirely misplaced. At least Parker’s lingering gazes the other night over dinner gave me a new impression.

  I shake off this worry and head downstairs. I slouch onto the sofa and bury my face in the pillow, depression tunneling in my thoughts. Two months I’ve lived in this house and it’s felt right. Comfortable. Inviting. Not once have I worried for my safety, which is a welcoming feeling since every moment outside this house is blanketed with fear. But maybe some of my melancholy is work related and not all about Zack. At the lab today a whopping eight kids decided to be converted. There was this look of fear in their eyes. It was new and not something I’ve encountered with any of the other kids I gave the choice to. It leads me to think Vider has altered his brainwashing. Hinted at punishing dividers. Every Thursday night he requires Dream Travelers to dream travel to a lecture in a safe location: a hall, amphitheater, auditorium. Some place boring. Whatever the speech was about last night, something frightened the Defects.

  The clink of a glass grabs my attention. I didn’t know Zack was home yet. The sun hasn’t quite set. I drag myself off the couch and trudge a bit melodramatically to the kitchen. When I push the door open Zack is leaning over the sink swirling water around in a tumbler. He pops a small white pill in his mouth, a painkiller, and throws his head back and takes a drink.

  “This has got to be the lamest bachelor party ever,” I say from the doorway.

  A bit too slowly he turns around and nods.

  “Headache?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says, rubbing his forehead.

  “You know I don’t like it when people I care about get headaches,” I say, my voice haunted with a coarseness.

  “It’s just from stress, Em.”

  “I know.” And although I want to make another joke about him marrying a monster I keep it trapped in my mouth. He looks demoralized enough. “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  He glares at me, irritation oozing off him. “What do you think?”

  He’s lost even more weight. Zack still looks healthy with his slender build, but I don’t like the idea that he’s not eating regularly.

  “Fine,” I say, “go on a hunger strike if you like but I did have Nona get us something.”

  He arches a curious eyebrow at me.

  “Come here,” I say and head back to the living room, knowing he’ll follow.

  Right where she said she’d leave it is a white paper box. I pluck it from the coffee table and offer it to Zack, who’s right behind me. His eyes first show confusion followed by comprehension, and then a tiny spark of excitement hits them.

  “Is this…?”

  “Yep,” I say, reading the question in his eyes.

  “How did she get him—”

  “She’s Nona,” I interrupt. “She can convince a starving man to give up his last morsel of food.”

  Zack gently opens the lid of the box and peers inside. I haven’t checked its contents yet so I stand up on my tippy toes and take a look. Sitting on a sheet of parchment paper are two fresh cannoli.

  “I can’t believe you remembered,” Zack says, staring at the cream-filled bubbly pastries drizzled in chocolate and dusted in powdered sugar.

  I plant my hands on my hips. “Of course I remembered. While you store useless political crap in your brain, I store the little tidbits people say in passing.”

  When Zack, Rogue, and I were ten years old my family chef Giorgio made us cannoli. We ate so many that we got sick. All three of us lay on the living room floor holding our stomachs and complaining. It was after that that my father ordered Giorgio to never ever make the delicious pastries. That next morning Zack admitted he’d eaten too many, but that it was worth it because
they were the best thing he’d ever had.

  “There’s only two,” I say with a giant smile.

  “No stomachaches,” he says.

  Feeling suddenly nervous I say, “I know it’s silly, but I just thought it would be a fun way to spend our last night together.”

  His eyes dart down to the cannoli, unmistakable heartache in them. “Right,” he says. “That was a thoughtful idea.”

  I tug on the sleeve of his shirt. The gesture we’ve been doing all our lives to gain the other person’s attention. He brings his eyes to mine.

  “To use your words, let’s not lose this time,” I say.

  ***

  The cannoli is richer than I remember. The first bite coats my mouth in a cool sweetness. Every bite after that reminds me there is less of the Italian treasure left to enjoy now. I slide my last bite over to Zack, who’s sitting on the floor with me.

  “Here, you have it,” I say.

  Zack eyes it and then me.

  “Don’t make me tell you twice,” I say, rolling my eyes. I lean back, resting my aching muscles against the couch.

  He pinches the last piece of pastry between his fingers and pops it in his mouth. A perfectly content smile on his face.

  “Hey,” I say, sitting up against the couch. “If I wasn’t an outlaw, then I’d be your best woman for the ceremony, since Rogue is dead and all.”

  Zack tucks his chin and gives me a brazenly playful look. “You’d be it even if he wasn’t.”

  “Oh really?” I tease.

  “Yes, really.”

  I smile, enjoying how the sugar and fondness has bred some happy emotions. We needed them. I almost feel giddy with some strange excitement. It seems to squash out the reason for the celebration. Whatever is infecting the moment is suppressing all the ill feelings. Maybe Giorgio put some of Vider’s happy pills in the cannoli.

  “He loved you so much,” Zack says, staring off at a distant corner.

  I shoot him a confused look and he must read it from his peripheral. “Rogue,” he says in response to my questioning expression. “It was actually pretty sweet to see.” Strangely he sounds like he’s admitting something begrudgingly.

  “Yeah, well I still don’t know what was wrong with him that he was so enamored with me.”

  Zack laughs. A pure one. Full of warmth. Then he scoots his feet underneath him and stretches into a standing position. “I know exactly why he was so enamored with you.” He turns and regards me from up high. A sweet sentiment on his face. “And I know exactly how he felt, because I feel the same way about you, in my own way, of course.”

  And like he hasn’t just said something that shatters my world he turns and trots toward the stairs. My reality starts to move in slow motion. I make note of Zack floating off to the stairs. And then in my head a dozen conversations play at once. All conversations with him that I always thought I misread. Conversations where Zack hinted at feeling something for me. But I always knew he couldn’t mean it. He was teasing me. I was misreading him. I was an idiot. But how could I misread what he just said? I feel the same way about you.

  He’s at the landing of the stairs when I scramble to a standing position. My heart racing in my chest. My blood beating like it’s trying to find a way out of my being. My head echoing with his words. “Zack,” I say, caution in my voice.

  He pauses on the foot of the stairs, but doesn’t grant me a look.

  Now that I have his attention, I’m not sure what to say. Disbelief clouds my thoughts, delays all my movements as I step closer to the stairs. “Uhhh…what are you saying? Are you in love with me?” And I want to take the question back as soon as I say it. My words sound so stupid out loud.

  A look of punishment and also forbidden joy graces his features. He brings his dark blue eyes up and stares at me. “For all my life, Em. Every day I’ve breathed,” he says, his tone even, his voice deep with emotion. And then he keeps moving, like a zombie, like he hasn’t just made a major confession that warrants more of a conversation. He takes four steps before I reach the side of the staircase.

  “What?!” I say, looking up at him. He halts, still facing forward.

  Zack seems to calculate something in his mind, and then he backs down to the bottom stair so he’s looking at me straight on, over the banister. There’s a beautiful pain in his eyes. “All my life, Em, I’ve worshipped you. So yes, I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice quiet, each of his words deliberate.

  My skin is shivering, laced with a tingling sensation, but inside my chest my heart is a furnace. “Zack, why are just now telling me this?” I say, a firm edge to my voice.

  He shakes his head, a look of frustration spiking his features. “Because I’m dumb, Em.”

  “You’re the smartest person I know,” I argue.

  “I’m dumb with emotions. I’m torturing myself now. I know that I’ll never get another opportunity to confess myself to you, so this is my poor attempt at it. I’m sorry,” he says.

  I march around the banister and step until we’re occupying the same stair. He turns to face me. “Zack Conerly, I’ve been in love with you for years.” And I’m not sure why, but my words sound stern. “I’ve prayed for you to feel the same way about me and also punished myself for even having such hope.”

  His face registers a look of shock, but then it quickly morphs into something I can’t read.

  “Do you realize what this means?” Again my tone is demanding. “Do you realize what this means for us?”

  He angles his head down and focuses on the runner under our feet. “You don’t get it, Em. It’s too late. It’s too late for us. For love.”

  This can’t be happening. Not after everything I’ve lost. After everything that’s slipped through my fingers. I won’t let it. I take one step, so I’m a little higher than him, turn and face him and lock my knees in place. “Do. Not. Marry. Her.”

  A pained smile wraps around his mouth. He shakes his head at me, like I fail to understand a perfectly evident truth. “Em, you and I can’t end up together. You’re too heartbroken and I’m too involved.”

  “What?” I say, staring at his eyes which refuse to look at me. They are angrily pinned on something behind me, something that doesn’t matter. “How can you say that? You’ve never even given me a chance and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me like this? Why tell me at all?”

  Slowly, almost methodically, he slides his tortured eyes over until they collide with mine. “It was obviously a mistake. I apologize.” Zack sidesteps me and marches up the stairs.

  Knowing that chances are lost in a single second I race up the stairs, passing him. When I’m a step ahead of Zack I halt and turn to him, pushing both my arms out beside me to create a barrier. One hand locks onto the banister. The other onto the wall. “Stop,” I say.

  Zack pauses and regards me with an indecipherable expression. Standing on the step above him, at his same height, I am eye to eye with him. “Please don’t do this,” I say, allowing my hands to fall back by my sides. “Please. If you are in love with me, then don’t walk away from this. Don’t marry her.”

  Zack’s eyes press shut. Clench. And when they open, there’s a new determination in them. A gasp escapes my mouth when he pins both his hands on my hips. His cold fingertips press into my skin. I lean my body weight more into his hands. And just when I expect him to tug me into him, he yanks me to the side and out of his path. I don’t reach out for him as he marches past me and up the stairs. Away.

  Without moving I crumble into a mess of tears on the stairs. Not caring he can hear my sobs, I let them echo my disappointment across his house. For an hour I sit cradling my own arms. And then the strength hits me and I stand suddenly and walk out his front door. Away from my best friend and my greatest regret.

  I march step after step until I find the statue of the lady of justice in the main square and I destroy her using the small bit of electricity stored in my being. Then without an option I return to Zack’s house, shiv
ering from the cold in my bones. His light is off when I prowl to my room and slip the door shut. I lock it and crawl into my bed, wishing I was a simple girl with simple friends, not ones I fall in love with. I drop into a stupid foggy sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zack’s knocking is what wakes me. It’s loud. Continuous.

  The clock tells me it’s early morning. Outside, rain pelts my window. I pull a pillow over my head, which does little to muffle my pain. The church bells in the distance is what tells me a wedding is still scheduled in a couple of hours.

  And yet his knocking continues.

  “What?” I croak out from under my pillow.

  “Open the door, Em,” he says, his voice a rush of desperation.

  I can’t figure out if he’s the stupid one or if I am. Currently I vote that we’re both idiots.

  “Never,” I say.

  “Em,” he says, that punishing quality to his voice.

  “Never, ever,” I say for good measure. He really must be the stupidest person on this earth to tell me he’s in love with me on the night before his wedding to my sister. I bury my head further into my bed, scooping up covers to entomb me. And still I hear his pleas on the other side of the door.

  “Please, Em, we need to talk.”

  If talk means discussing how we can’t be together and we’ll sacrifice our lives for a war, then I think I’d rather stay in this chrysalis of cotton I’ve made for myself. Instead I say, “Leave me alone, Zack.”

  “Em…” he says, drawing out my name, punctuating it with pain.

  “Forever and ever leave me alone, Zack,” I say, my lips brushing the sheets covering my head with each word.

  His breath slides in rasps through the door. “I have to marry her.”

  I whip my head out from under the covers and pillows so my voice isn’t muffled, so he can hear me clearly. “Go away, Zack!”

  “For the love of the gods, open this door, Em. Let me talk to you before I can’t.”

  His words are little shards of glass emptied into my heart. I twist into a ball and they rattle around, creating tiny cuts. “No!” I scream, pulling up the sides of the pillow under my head, making it anchor me to the bed. My voice is clear and loud now. “If you’ve been so great at pretending you weren’t in love with me then you’ll be great at pretending you love her,” I say, my words full of my vengeful regrets.