‘‘So, the question then becomes . . .’’ Morgan began.
‘‘What happens at the end of the timetable? And who made it to begin with?’’ Grant finished, throwing a quick glance at Alex. ‘‘We should talk to Marta about this.’’
‘‘Oh, she’s dead,’’ Fletcher announced without import. ‘‘Marta never regained consciousness when the rest of us did after the recent . . . incident.’’
Grant gaped at Morgan. ‘‘But you told me everyone woke up after the Forging!’’
‘‘Marta was very old,’’ Morgan said just as Fletcher was about to speak again. ‘‘She had a weak heart. We don’t know if it was this ‘Forging,’ as you call it, that ended her life or not.’’
Grant digested this slowly. Another one . . . Another one gone because of me . . .
‘‘Can we return to the matter of Drexel for a moment?’’ Morgan asked, partly because she meant it and partly to distract Grant from unpleasant feelings. ‘‘If Alex here didn’t reveal our location to him, then who did?’’
Everyone looked at Alex. She shrugged. ‘‘I woulda told him, while I was drugged, if I’d known. I’ve never been here before today. But he never asked me.’’
‘‘Which means he likely knew already,’’ Morgan reasoned. She turned. ‘‘Fletcher? Any intuition as to who our traitor is?’’
He never hesitated. His eyes moved to Grant, staring for a long moment but as Grant was about to protest he looked past him and pointed: ‘‘Her.’’
They all turned, but Morgan said it before they could see who Fletcher was looking at.
‘‘Hannah,’’ she gasped.
Hannah had just run into the Common Room, slinging her blond locks over one shoulder and reacting in horror to the destruction and injuries she saw.
Grant stood, his features hardening. ‘‘Hello, beautiful.’’
Hannah froze at Grant’s tone of voice. She gazed around, taking in the dozens of eyeballs all pointing in her direction. Something about the coldness of this greeting . . .
‘‘Some-body’s bust-ed,’’ Alex sing-songed.
‘‘How could you sell me out?’’ Grant asked, his face an unnerving, even calm.
Hannah’s eyes went wide, her face flushed. ‘‘I didn’t . . .’’ she blurted.
‘‘How could you sell them out!’’ he shouted, pointing at the Loci.
Hannah stared at him blankly. ‘‘I, I didn’t think—’’ she stammered.
‘‘No, you’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’’ Grant seethed. He was fighting to keep his voice calm, not to shout again. As he spoke something new clicked. ‘‘All this time you’ve been spying on me, reporting back to Drexel about my actions. That’s how he’s been able to keep such close tabs on me. And you gave him the asylum. All of this misery and bloodshed is on your hands.’’
‘‘No! I never meant—’’ Hannah started, tears forming in her eyes.
‘‘But you did!’’ Grant bellowed. Small objects all around the room jumped in place as he shouted. ‘‘When you make someone trust you while lying to them, that’s something you mean to do!’’ Grant’s thoughts lingered on the conversation they’d had in the dinner hall of this very building, only days before.
The pool table upended itself and crashed against a wall.
‘‘Grant, calm yourself,’’ Morgan said.
Hannah spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘‘My feelings for you—’’
‘‘When you sell out everyone who trusts you,’’ Grant said coldly, ‘‘then no matter what the reason . . . it’s premeditated. It’s calculated.’’
He took a dangerous step toward her. ‘‘It’s personal.’’
Hannah glanced around at the anger in every face surrounding her, even from faces she didn’t recognize.
A single tear appeared.
And then she moved.
‘‘You’re going to just let her leave?’’ Alex asked, not believing her eyes.
‘‘She’s not going anywhere,’’ Grant said in a determined voice, still watching Hannah where she stood.
‘‘You might want to tell her that!’’ Alex said, eyes wide.
‘‘Stop her!’’ Morgan shouted urgently.
Grant looked at Morgan quizzically, startled. Then he looked back at the Common Room door where Hannah had stood, and saw that it was closed. Hannah was nowhere in sight.
One second after his feet were in motion, he realized what she’d done—used her misdirection ability on him to escape.
Alex was hot on his heels as he opened the door, but he turned and put a hand out.
‘‘I’ve got this. Stay with the others.’’
‘‘But if you’re alone, she can use her mojo to slip away from you,’’ Alex protested.
Grant walked out the door. ‘‘She won’t get the chance.’’
‘‘Grant, wait!’’ Alex called.
He turned around in the hallway, angry now. Alex was looking all around.
‘‘Where’s your sister?’’ she said.
He looked.
Julie was gone.
Hannah was in a hard run, rounding the back of her car, when Julie crashed into her from behind, dragging her to the ground.
Julie had Hannah by the throat before Hannah figured out what was happening, and Hannah reflexively launched a defensive punch into Julie’s face. Julie’s head whipped around with the blow, but she didn’t let go, a wildfire blazing in her eyes. Her whole body was shaking with anger.
‘‘He trusted you!’’ she cried, hot tears forming, but she refused to let them fall. ‘‘He cared about you!’’
Unable to deflect Julie’s fury but not wanting to harm her, Hannah brought one knee up to her chin and kicked outward with her foot straight into Julie’s chest. Julie flew backward, landing on her back a few feet behind Hannah’s sleek black sports car.
Hannah jumped to her feet and got in the car.
She looked behind her and couldn’t see Julie anywhere.
She’s gone to get Grant. Go!
She put her key in the ignition.
Grant burst through the front door just as Hannah was starting her car.
‘‘Stop!’’ he screamed, beating a path down the front steps.
Hannah put the car into reverse and hit the gas, as Grant came running toward her, waving his arms.
The back of the car lurched violently, and Hannah slammed on the brakes.
Grant stopped and knelt by the passenger’s side of the car. Hannah stopped the car, a sickening weakness settling in her stomach. She got out of the car and ran to the other side just in time to see Grant pulling Julie from beneath it.
Grant gently tugged on Julie’s legs until he had her all the way out from under the car. She was lying in repose, frozen in the same position Hannah had last seen her in after kicking herself free. Except that her chest bore a black tire mark across it, and dirt and soot were all over her clothes.
Hannah took a step forward to see if Julie was breathing, but Grant gathered his sister up into his arms and turned sharply away from her.
Hannah couldn’t seem to get her mouth to close. The inside of it went dry, and all of the moisture in her body now seemed to be spilling from her eyes.
‘‘Grant, I . . .’’
He turned slowly to face her, looking at her as if she were a thing.
A thing he no longer recognized.
Stumbling backward, she found herself back in the car. A few moments later, she was racing down the drive and out onto the black roadway, her mind filled with images of Julie’s unconscious body and the hatred in Grant’s eyes.
That look on his face . . .
It was all she could see.
47
‘‘She’s still comatose?’’ Daniel asked.
‘‘Yeah,’’ Grant said, rubbing his forehead. He held the phone with one hand, and stroked Julie’s hand with another, as she slept. ‘‘She has some injuries to her vital organs. There was . . . internal bleeding.’’
‘‘What’s the prognosis?’’ asked Daniel’s maddeningly clinical voice on the other end of the phone.
‘‘She got out of her second surgery a little while ago,’’ said Grant.
He sounded weak, as if all of the strength had left his body. ‘‘All they can do now is keep her comfortable, and—’’ he huffed—‘‘and hope she pulls out of it.’’
A breathy sob escaped Grant’s lips, and Daniel remained silent, allowing him the moment.
Forty-eight hours had passed since Grant’s confrontation with Pay-ton and Drexel. Grant had not yet left Julie’s side except during her surgeries, when he paced relentlessly in the waiting room. He wore a hooded sweatshirt, trying desperately to keep the nurses from seeing his face; the news still showed his photo every so often.
He had dozed occasionally since planting himself by her bed, but he would jerk himself awake after a few minutes.
Sometime during the last two days it had finally dawned on him that he needed to talk to someone. There were too many emotions and thoughts stomping through his mind, and he couldn’t take it much more.
He was doing a good job of holding things in check when he was around the others. Morgan believed so strongly in him; whether he agreed with her or not, he couldn’t bring himself to divulge to her the true depths of his doubts. Daniel might one day become a trusted friend, but it was much too early to bare his soul to the scientist yet.
Alex he still felt like he barely knew, despite what had just happened.
Julie had been taken from him.
And Hannah . . . Hannah had done the taking.
But she was gone now.
He barely cared where she was. And he didn’t trust himself or what he might do to her if he ran into her right now.
Alex had arrived an hour ago to sit with him. It was early morning— though Grant had long since lost track of the time—and this was at least the third time she had visited in two days.
Daniel was giving Grant a wide berth. They kept in touch over the phone every few hours, and Grant had given him enough details for the doctor to piece together what had happened with Hannah. And Drexel.
‘‘Grant, do you really think it was wise to let Drexel escape? I mean . . . I understand your desire to maintain Morgan’s cover at the asylum, and we don’t have any evidence to prosecute him, but—’’
‘‘No one let Drexel go.’’
‘‘Right, but still, shouldn’t we be looking—’’
‘‘Can we . . . another time?’’ Grant choked. ‘‘I can’t . . .’’
Alex grabbed the phone out of Grant’s hand.
‘‘It’s all good, Doc,’’ she said. ‘‘Go count some molecules or something.’’
She hung up.
Alex dropped the phone into Grant’s jacket pocket as he reached out and took Julie’s limp hand in both of his. He squeezed it, wishing that the warmth and life of his body could enter hers as he gazed imploringly into her lifeless face.
‘‘Wake up,’’ he pleaded.
He could only weep. His throat constricted with the effort, and once more he thought of the vision of the snake, wrapping itself about his neck and squeezing . . .
‘‘Please come back,’’ he whispered. ‘‘I can’t do this alone.’’
Dozing in and out of sleep for hours, Grant’s thoughts wandered . . .
Julie.
Her Parkinson’s, which he’d discovered because it was in her medical records.
Marta.
The Forging.
The ring he wore . . . Why did Payton call it ‘‘the Seal’’?
Payton . . .
Morgan . . .
The Loci and their unique talents . . .
The stone tablet . . .
Alex . . .
Her boss, the Keeper . . .
Hannah . . .
Daniel . . .
Drexel . . .
Harlan Evers . . .
His life before the Shift . . .
And his life now.
All the way back to that first day, stepping off the bus and seeing himself . . .
It couldn’t be random, Grant was sure of it. There was something at work here, a plan—but he couldn’t see it.
And according to Morgan, it was on some kind of schedule. Tick, tick, tick . . . .
Despite his best efforts, no matter where his thoughts began, they always circled back and ended on Hannah. Thoughts of her betrayal choked him. Why would she do this? It made no sense.
But it was done. Irreversible.
And if I need any reminders of that, all I have to do is sit by this bed.
Grant thought of Payton and Morgan and wondered if he might ever become as bitter a man as Payton was. No, he and Hannah had never gotten far enough along to have fallen in love.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Daniel finished typing the words and looked at his watch. ‘‘6:04 P.M.,’’ it read.
He nervously tapped his fingers on the keyboard, waiting. This was taking too long.
Come on. Say something.
who was in the kitchen, but the sentiment was there all the same.
He had taken to using the desk chair as a makeshift wheelchair, since his had been destroyed by Payton. But Lisa had acquired a pair of crutches and was threatening to make him start using them any minute . . .
The sun was setting as Grant entered the apartment for the first time in three days. Daniel quickly logged off the chat room and switched off the monitor before Grant or Lisa noticed. Grant had made no effort to acknowledge his houseguests, and Daniel could see how red his eyes were and the lifeless sagging of his movements.
‘‘Grant?’’ prompted Daniel gently.
‘‘Huh?’’ Grant replied, barely coherent.
‘‘How is she?’’ Lisa asked.
‘‘Um . . .’’ he searched the floor as if trying to find the words. ‘‘No change. Did you get the uh . . . the picture of the tablet from Morgan?’’
‘‘Yeah, yeah,’’ Daniel replied. ‘‘I spent a few hours hunched over it, but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere so I was taking a break . . .’’
Grant offered a barely perceptible nod. He changed jackets and retrieved some cash from the jar in the kitchen where they kept extra.
‘‘Where are you going?’’ Lisa asked.
‘‘Oh, I uh . . .’’ he mumbled, ‘‘I have to go home.’’
Lisa and Daniel looked at one another.
‘‘Home?’’
‘‘My old home,’’ he explained. ‘‘Where my dad and my sister lived.’’
‘‘Right, of course, to find your father’s safe,’’ Daniel nodded. ‘‘Are you sure that can’t wait, though? You need some rest.’’
Grant suddenly came to life. ‘‘No, what I need are some answers!’’
‘‘Grant, you’re exhausted,’’ Lisa said. ‘‘And scared.’’
‘‘Don’t tell me what I am!’’ he shot at her. ‘‘I’ve had it with all these secrets and games. I want to know what my parents have to do with any of this. I want to know who this Keeper person is that’s playing chess with my life. I want to know why Hannah betrayed me. I want to know what this lousy thing is’’—he held out his ring—‘‘and why it won’t come off! And I want to know now!’’
A beeping sound startled all three of them in the silence that followed.
‘‘It’s the detector!’’ Daniel whispered, wild-eyed. ‘‘There’s a shimmer in the building!’’
‘‘Can you tell where?’’ Grant asked.
Daniel grabbed his small device and studied it. ‘‘It’s close.’’
‘‘You two get in the bedroom—’’
Before Grant could finish issuing orders, there was a knock at the door.
48
Grant put a finger over his lips, and walked to the door. He looked through the peephole.
‘‘It’s him, get down!’’ he whispered to Daniel and Lisa, looking frantically around for something he
could use as a weapon. He spotted a broom leaning against the far corner in the kitchen.
Knock, knock.
Grant reached his arm toward the faraway broom. It twitched in place before finally leaping into the air and flying toward him. Daniel’s detector immediately started beeping again, as Grant grabbed the broom out of the air and held it like a bat.
Blowing out a big breath, he placed one hand on the doorknob.
He opened it.
Payton stood on the other side, perfectly composed, hands clasped together in front.
Grant swung the broom hard and fast, a home run in the making. There was a blur of movement and then Payton was standing perfectly still again, in the same calm pose as before.
Half of the wooden broomstick lay on the floor at their feet; the other half was still in Grant’s hands. Payton had drawn his weapon, sliced the broom, and sheathed the sword, all faster than any of them could see.
‘‘If I wanted you dead, you would be,’’ Payton said offhandedly. ‘‘Time is running out. And there are some things you should know.’’
‘‘What could you have to say that I would want to hear?’’
‘‘My story,’’ Payton replied.
‘‘Not interested,’’ Grant said.
‘‘It’s connected to your own.’’
Grant looked Payton up and down, but the other man’s body language was impossible to read. This could easily have been a ruse; on the other hand, if Payton had wanted to attack, nothing Grant could muster would be likely to stop him.
And he hadn’t attacked.
Grant glanced at Lisa and Daniel; Lisa was cowering on the floor behind the kitchen counter, while Daniel remained at the computer. Daniel shot him a ‘‘whatever you think’’ shrug, but Lisa looked as if she would kill the lot of them if Grant let Payton in.
‘‘Very well.’’ Grant stepped aside and Payton entered.
Lisa threw Grant a nasty look as she helped Daniel slide precariously to the living room in the desk chair. Grant kept a close eye on Payton, who took a seat opposite the sofa. Soon they were all settled in the living room, but Lisa was on the edge of her seat beside Daniel, seemingly ready to pounce should the intruder make a move toward him.
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