‘‘We could go on like this for hours. You’ve ruined so many lives . . . but you always got away with it. Those connections with the higher-ups pay off, don’t they? When you get results.’’
‘‘I just do what I’m told, that’s all I’ve ever done.’’
‘‘Nobody in the Los Angeles police—’’
Drexel stopped him with a sour laugh. ‘‘The force?’’ He shook his head, watching Daniel’s growing awareness. ‘‘Doctor, you need to think a little bigger.’’
Daniel was stunned. ‘‘All this time,’’ Daniel said, aghast, ‘‘even before you met Grant or me . . .’’
‘‘We all answer to someone,’’ Drexel said, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. ‘‘What? You’re shocked and appalled that I was able to keep my true loyalties a secret?’’
Drexel let out a single chuckle.
‘‘You work for the Keeper.’’
‘‘We all work for the Keeper, little man. Since minute one with you and your friends, we’ve been feeding into his plans. You’re working for him right now, doing his dirty work, tying up a loose end that he won’t have to contend with.’’
‘‘Loose end. . . ?’’ Daniel said. He looked at Drexel differently. ‘‘What have you done?’’
‘‘Don’t you read the newspapers?’’ Drexel grinned. ‘‘Your friends were involved and everything . . .’’
‘‘You were behind the arson at the asylum,’’ Daniel gasped. He swallowed, realizing something else. ‘‘You hired Konrad! You took the Dominion Stone! ’’
‘‘At any cost,’’ he said. ‘‘Though the higher the better, I always find.’’
‘‘Where is it?’’ Daniel asked. Drexel had turned his back to him. He could hear the hatred in Daniel’s voice. That was good. He had him upset, thinking poorly.
‘‘You’re the Ph.D. Where do you think?’’
‘‘The Keeper,’’ Daniel whispered.
He has the tablet.
Drexel suddenly moved, retrieving a gun from an ankle holster. This punk was in over his head. He spun quickly to face Daniel . . .
And Daniel shot him between the eyes.
Everyone froze as Drexel’s body snapped backward and slammed into the ground.
Lisa’s mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t move. It was almost as if by not moving, she could undo what had just happened.
Daniel still pointed the gun at Drexel’s body, an inhuman expression on his face.
Lisa walked slowly forward for a closer look at Drexel’s massive body, sprawled out on the floor. Blood poured slowly from the hole in his forehead. His eyes were still open. But he wasn’t breathing.
‘‘He’s dead . . .’’ she despaired, turning to Daniel in disbelief. ‘‘You killed him!’’
Daniel was locked in an emotion somewhere between shock, sickness, and satisfaction.
He’d really done it.
And he’d meant it.
Daniel brought his good hand up to cover his mouth as he searched an empty spot on the floor ahead. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He felt like doing both.
58
Grant found a new vigor and sense of urgency the next morning, after sleeping deeply for the first time in weeks.
His first action was to track down Morgan and invite her and as many of the Loci as they could find to come to his apartment. Then he checked in with his sister at the hospital; she was showing increased brain activity, indicating deep dreams. The doctors said she could wake anytime. On his way back to the apartment, around mid-morning, he stopped at Daniel and Lisa’s to ask them to come to the meeting as well. Lisa came to the door having just been roused from her bed by the doorbell. Apparently, she and Daniel had had some kind of very long night.
By early afternoon he was welcoming Hannah into his apartment for the meeting.
‘‘Am I early?’’ she said, at his door.
‘‘Not too bad,’’ he smiled. ‘‘Morgan and the others should be here soon. I’ve offered to let as many of them stay here in the Wagner Building as we have space for. We need to talk things through and figure out where to go from here.’’
‘‘You mean us?’’ she asked, alarmed.
‘‘No, the group. As in, what’s our next step. With the prophecy and everything.’’
‘‘Oh. Right,’’ she let out a breath and turned a pinkish shade of red. ‘‘Well, look at that, I made us both uncomfortable. Way to go, me.’’ She laughed nervously.
He smiled, but said nothing.
‘‘How’s Payton?’’ she asked.
‘‘Too stubborn to die, I believe is the way Morgan described it. He should be all right. He’s coming to the meeting, in fact, against doctor’s orders.’’
‘‘I wouldn’t want to be the one who tried to keep him away,’’ she smiled.
They stared at each other for an awkward moment.
‘‘Grant?’’ she asked, taking a seat next to him on the couch. ‘‘I was wondering something . . . about whether something else besides just me could ever be put back together . . .’’
She didn’t have to say any more; he knew exactly where she was going.
‘‘I honestly don’t know,’’ he said. ‘‘Forgiveness is one thing, but with everything that’s happening, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to . . .’’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest.
‘‘I understand,’’ she nodded, looking away. ‘‘It’s a shame, though. We never even had a first kiss.’’
He blushed.
‘‘But you’re right,’’ she concluded, nervously standing up. ‘‘It’s way too soon, not a good idea. I don’t know what I was thinking . . .’’ she let out a nervous breath.
She walked away, but Grant followed, reaching to grab hold of her arm.
‘‘I know exactly what you were thinking,’’ he said, pulling her close.
‘‘Because it’s all I can think about, too.’’
The world and all its sights and sounds and concerns and logic and reason faded to nothing, and it was simply happening.
Grant’s heart pounded so loudly that blood rushed past his ears, but all he cared about was her lips on his and . . .
Before he got the smallest taste of her, the apartment door slammed shut.
They jumped apart, and twisted to face the door.
Alex stood there, her clothes hanging in tatters. She was breathing hard, unable to catch her breath.
She had a nasty black eye, she bled from a swollen lip, bruises covered what could be seen of her arms, and she stumbled toward them, limping, about to collapse.
‘‘It’s happening!’’ she gasped. ‘‘The end of everything . . .’’
Grant caught her and lowered her to the ground.
She closed her eyes, but before unconsciousness swallowed her, she whispered:
‘‘It’s happening now.’’
One by one, Grant welcomed his friends into his apartment. Most he knew by name, a few he didn’t.
Hannah and Alex were still there, of course, Hannah watching over Alex, who was resting uncomfortably on the couch. Hannah spent a while cleaning Alex’s scrapes and bruises. They exchanged pained looks from time to time, and Alex winced frequently.
But neither spoke.
Half an hour later, Daniel and Lisa arrived. Daniel hobbled to Grant’s bedroom, where the two men had a private discussion. Lisa sat uncomfortably in the living room watching the other two women, barely aware they were there.
Morgan and Fletcher arrived next, trailed by a small group of Loci.
Morgan was still haggard and unrested, and her shoulder remained in the sling, but she’d cleaned herself up. When Grant emerged from his room—no longer smiling—her eyes were trained on him with intense interest. Daniel followed slowly. Fletcher was fidgety, his eyes darting about as he took in every detail of Grant’s home.
Grant suddenly looked far away. Someone had just registered on his radar, entering the building. He’
d been watching, waiting.
A few other Loci straggled in before Payton entered the room. He strode in scowling, as if nothing were wrong, though everyone else tensed sharply at the sight of him. The evidence of his recent fight was obvious: a long bandage could be seen sticking out from his sleeve, and though he tried to hide it, his good arm hugged his abdomen firmly where Konrad had shot him. There was a slight stagger to his gait.
Lisa turned angrily to Grant. ‘‘What’s ‘Sir Hacks-a-lot’ doing here!’’
The twenty or so present had gathered in a large circle in Grant’s living room, but now many of them were on their feet.
‘‘Payton is here at my invitation,’’ Grant offered. ‘‘Everyone please relax. Like it or not, he’s a part of this. And whatever’s going on concerns us all.’’
‘‘Here, I’ll play nice,’’ Payton said, as he unbuckled his sword from his belt and tossed it sideways to Fletcher who, disgusted, dropped it onto the coffee table with a loud clatter.
Grant waited until they were silent and watching him. When he had their attention, he began.
‘‘Here’s where we’re at. Someone out there calling himself the ‘Keeper’ is using us. The rings were given to us intentionally, to turn us into something else. Something . . . superior.’’
‘‘Someone’s trying to make us into heroes,’’ Fletcher said. It wasn’t a question.
‘‘Yeah,’’ Grant replied, surprised. He had been planning to ease into that part of the conversation.
Fletcher nodded. ‘‘I suspected as much.’’
‘‘Heroes,’’ Morgan repeated slowly, straining to find a more comfortable position for her shoulder. ‘‘That’s what this is all about? The Shift?
The rings?’’
‘‘They’re called the Rings of Dominion,’’ Grant began. From there, he told them the highlights of Payton’s story, about the Rings, the Secretum, and his ring, the Seal of Dominion. He revealed his trip to his childhood home, the truth of his identity, and his parents’ membership in the Secretum. He finished by sharing the prophecy from the Dominion Stone that Daniel had translated.
No one spoke and significant glances were scarce as everyone present tried to accept the enormity of what had just been set out before them. Even Grant, who had spent some time with these facts already, found himself once again pondering it all.
Mostly, everyone stared at the coffee table in the center of the circle.
‘‘I understand it’s a lot to digest, but time is running out . . .’’ Grant said.
Morgan nodded, not looking up. ‘‘I get it, I’m just . . .’’
Grant watched her face, which was showing a mixture of alarm and disbelief.
‘‘This isn’t what you were expecting,’’ Grant offered.
Morgan looked up. ‘‘It’s what I expected for you. I’ve known you were meant for something like this since the moment I met you. But . . . you have to understand, Grant . . . the rest of us . . .’’
‘‘I know you’re afraid,’’ Grant said, ‘‘So am I.’’
‘‘Fear is pointless,’’ Fletcher announced. ‘‘My reservations about Grant notwithstanding, even I can no longer deny what’s plainly before us. Everything that’s happened to him—to all of us—it’s been preordained. We’ve been cast in certain roles. We may have no choice but to perform them.’’
‘‘No,’’ Morgan was saying, shaking her head, breathing faster. ‘‘We’ll find someplace new, a safe refuge where we can—’’
‘‘Morgan,’’ Grant said forcefully, and everyone in the circle looked up sharply. ‘‘Lines are being drawn. Sides are being taken. Hiding, trying to keep the world at bay—it’s not an option anymore.
‘‘I know we’ve all been through some . . . painful experiences of late,’’ he went on. ‘‘But there’s a fight coming, and I think it’s fair to say we all feel the weight of it, growing heavier. Dr. Cossick has new information to share with the group. But first, Alex has some news.’’ He turned to her. ‘‘Maybe you should start by explaining what’s happened to you.’’
‘‘The Keeper happened to me. This,’’ she glanced down at herself, ‘‘is my reprimand. I was a fool to think it could be kept from him.’’
‘‘How did you escape?’’ Payton asked.
‘‘He let me go on the condition that I would come straight here and tell you that the end has arrived. Whatever’s coming that you all have to stop—it’s coming now.’’
No one spoke.
‘‘Once again,’’ Fletcher piped up, breaking the silence, ‘‘it falls to me to point out the obvious. She’s admitted that she is employed by the enemy. What proof do we have that she’s a genuine double agent? Does anyone here really know anything about her at all?’’ he said, facing her.
Alex sighed, her face tilting down to examine her bare feet.
‘‘Hate to admit it, Alex,’’ Grant said, ‘‘but he’s right. You told me that everyone has their own agenda, but you’ve never told me what yours is. I think we have to know.’’
She let out a very long breath and looked back up.
‘‘Everything I told you about me was the truth. The Keeper really did hire me to keep tabs on you all. But that wasn’t . . . the whole truth. It is my job to watch you, to keep up with your activities and report back on your progress,’’ she said, stopping to take a sip. ‘‘What I didn’t tell you . . . is that it was also my job to select each of you in the first place.’’
Murmurs filled the room as dark glances were exchanged.
‘‘I was given a list to work from,’’ she continued, ‘‘and assigned to seek out these people who were good candidates for the Shift.’’
‘‘What criteria were used for creating this list?’’ Morgan asked.
‘‘I don’t know. But I do know that the information from my reports was the deciding factor on which of you were selected for the experiment. I’m sorry,’’ she said, sad but resolute.
‘‘Did you select me?’’ Grant asked.
‘‘No,’’ she replied. ‘‘You’re special. You always have been. From what I gather, you were always earmarked for the experiments, but you were saved for last.’’
‘‘So we’re just ‘experiments’ to you? Trial runs so that he could be perfected?’’ Payton muttered bitterly, angling his head toward Grant.
He locked cruel eyes on Alex. ‘‘I wonder what kind of person it takes to uproot and erase another’s life?’’
Alex’s head unexpectedly turned to Payton in a flash. ‘‘I may have cleared you for the experiments, but the person you became after that was your doing. Not mine. And I had no choice in any of this; it was either take the job or take a nice long nap six feet under.’’
‘‘I think it’s safe to say,’’ Grant spoke up, looking at everyone in the room individually, ‘‘that everyone in this room has regrets of some kind. We’ve all done things we’d like to take back.’’ His eyes lingered on Daniel for a moment, before he turned back to Alex again. ‘‘But this is the moment of truth, Alex. And we need all of it.’’
She faced Morgan.
‘‘You were the only one I never got to watch. Because, as you’ve always assumed, you were the first one to ever go through the Shift.
And that’s the truth. You were the first.’’
Alex looked down at her toes again and swallowed.
‘‘I was the second.’’
‘‘What?’’ Grant voiced what the entire room was thinking. ‘‘You were Shifted? But you’re not wearing a ring.’’
‘‘The Keeper was still in the early stages of his work back then. I had no idea then who he was or that he even existed, of course, I was just confused and afraid like all of you, but . . . there was an accident. I was just learning how to control my mental ability, and I was trying to help this guy. Unfortunately, he got some bad news and took it out on me; heated words were exchanged, and he . . . slapped me. And in a moment of anger, I used my mental power to . . . damage him.’’
‘‘Damage him how?’’ Morgan asked.
‘‘He’s lived the last ten years of his life in a straitjacket, where he will probably remain until the day he dies. He would gladly hurt himself if he could. He’s tried many times, over the years, or so I’ve heard. I was . . . absolutely horrified by what I’d done, and even more frightened because I couldn’t undo it. I was just devastated. I never knew myself capable of such rage. And I was only a teenager . . .
‘‘The Keeper found me, brought me to some kind of facility, and explained that I was his first failed experiment. I begged him to remove my ring, to take the power back. I told him I’d do anything he wanted if he would just take it away. I thought he was going to kill me, but he agreed. He used drugs to stop my heart long enough to pry the ring off my finger. And with that, my power was gone. But I was still living inside this new life that I didn’t know or want. Like each of you, I couldn’t go back to who I was before.’’
No one said anything as they all tried to absorb her tale.
‘‘Being powerless to do anything about any of this . . . being forced to work for him all these years . . . I . . . It made me so . . . That’s the reason I made contact with you, Grant, the day you were Shifted. It’s been fourteen years, and I had nearly given up hope. But I knew you were different from all the others, and I thought you might be my last hope of escaping him.’’
‘‘Who is he?’’ Grant asked.
‘‘Grant, I’ve never seen him . . .’’
‘‘You just said you bargained with him to get your ring off.’’
‘‘It was done by intermediaries, scientists, people who spoke for him and worked with him at this facility where they took me. I never even knew where I was, they blindfolded—’’
‘‘What is his name?’’ Grant shouted.
Alex flinched at his outburst before she collected herself.
‘‘I would have told you already if I knew. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t even have a real name.’’
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