“What?” Panic squeezes my chest. Zachariel starts to tip sideways, so I grab his arm and pull him back upright.
“They know who I am.” He winces at some internal pain.
My mouth drops open, and a cold wave flushes my face. “But how? I swear… Zachariel, I didn’t tell them.” Did they overhear somehow? Was his bedroom bugged? Dread trickles through me like something broken and leaking inside.
“No, I know you didn’t.” His voice is getting stronger. “I don’t know how, but they knew almost everything about me. Things you didn’t know. And everything else that mattered. And then, the rest…” He swallows and briefly closes his eyes. “…the rest, I told them.”
They tortured him. While I was pretending to sign away my father’s shares and cuddling up to Ishtar… they were torturing him. A blinding rage boils up inside me. I pull back from boosting him with life energy, because my hands are curling into fists. I want to punch something. Or drain someone.
He checks the door, but it’s still closed.
“Moloch said he’d come get me soon,” I warn him. My heart is hammering in my chest.
Zachariel’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t tell them about your friends, Wraith. Whatever you do, don’t tell them. No matter what. Do you understand?”
I nod. Vigorously. “I want to kill Seth. Moloch, too, for that matter.”
A weak smile counters the dark shadows under his eyes. “When you’re done with that, will you give me some of their life energy? I think they owe me.”
Tears are fighting for liberation from my eyes, but I blink them back. Before I can think of what to say, the door whispers open. The sound makes my heart seize, but I’m up off the bed in a flash, putting my body between whoever’s coming in the door and Zachariel, still prone and weak on the bed.
Seth, Moloch, and Ishtar file into the room. Seth’s the only one who seems happy, which makes my body go even more rigid. Moloch slowly steps closer until he stands in front of me, piercing me with that cold gaze again. Ishtar is hanging back near the door.
“I waited until you returned,” Moloch says, “because I want you to witness first hand what happens when someone betrays Gehenna.” He doesn’t even flick a look to Zachariel.
“I think I can guess,” I say, just to push back on his stare a little. I try to breath through the tightness in my chest. Think, think, think. How can I stop Moloch from killing us both?
Moloch narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you have any idea, Wraith.” He tips his head to Seth, who strides over and lands a hand on Zachariel’s bare arm. Zachariel only musters a weak attempt at stopping him. But instead of the usual death-freeze pose of someone being drained of their life energy, Zachariel cries out and doubles over the spot where Seth has a hold on him. Black streaks, like veins of ink, spread up and down Zachariel’s arm. Somehow Seth is killing Zachariel’s arm, but only a section of it. My stomach clenches in horror.
“Stop!” I say, reflexively, before I can think about what I’m doing.
Zachariel groans as that part of him dies. Seth’s face is lit with the life energy hit. He doesn’t pay attention to me.
A single word from Moloch stops him. “Seth.”
He grimaces his impatience at being ordered away from torturing Zachariel, but he stops. I blink rapidly, clearing the water crowding the corners of my eyes. Zachariel’s hunched over his withered arm. I struggle to keep myself from lurching across the room to him.
“Wraith.” Moloch’s voice pulls me back from my internal war. “Zachariel is going to die either way. It can be painful or… less painful. That choice is up to you.”
“What do you want from me?” My voice is hoarse.
“I want to know if Zachariel told you about our plans.”
I glare at Seth. “He didn’t tell me anything.” I pull my gaze back to Moloch. “In fact, how do you even know that Zachariel is the one who betrayed you? Perhaps someone in your inner circle is keeping secrets from you.” I’m flailing for something, anything, to keep them from torturing Zachariel to death in front of me. I’m on the verge of simply outing Seth for telling me Gehenna’s plans.
“Secrets?” Moloch arches an eyebrow and gives Seth an amused glance. “Given the circumstances, I would say you’re the one most likely to have secrets here, Ms. Sterling. And you can throw your accusations at Seth all you like, but he’s already informed me of Zachariel’s momentary absence at the slasher party. And your attempts to cover for him. But let me assure you that, while Gehenna’s planned activities were momentarily compromised with a technique my own resident slasher is somewhat famous for, they will proceed as planned. And the trace of that signature led us straight back to Zachariel’s palm screen, so I’m fairly certain I’ve identified the source of our leak.” He stares into my eyes. “So I’ll ask you again: did Zachariel tell you the details of our plans?”
I grit my teeth. I’ve been out-played by Seth. Even if I claim straight-out that he baited me with knowledge about the plot against Lifetime, he’s already pinned it on Zachariel… who is still hunched on the bed, peering up at me with pain-filled eyes. But he’s not begging me to tell them what they want. Don’t tell them about your friends, Wraith. No matter what.
It wrenches me inside, but I have to protect Wyatt and Miral. “Zachariel didn’t tell me anything,” I say to Moloch. “I don’t even know what this is all about.” I throw a squinty-eyed glare at Seth. “Although I’m certain I know who the biggest asshole in the room is.”
He just smirks. Because he’s won. And Zachariel is going to pay the price for it.
My hatred for Seth seethes under my skin, and my palm itches for a chance to suck the life energy out of him. But I would be on the losing end of a fight with any of these collectors, with the sole exception of Zachariel, who already has one foot in the grave.
“Well, I hope you’re telling the truth, Wraith,” Moloch says, giving my death-glares an amused look. “But in case you are not, and I find out you’ve made some attempt to interfere, I would like you to know what will happen to those you care about if you get in my way.” He gives Seth a nod, and he steps up again to Zachariel. He doesn’t flinch away from Seth; he just looks at me with those deep brown eyes and gives me a small smile. It’s cut off by Seth shoving his forehead back with his palm. This time, Zachariel seizes up, a full death-mask on his face.
“Wait!” I whip my head to Moloch. “I told you what you wanted to know.”
“I know.” Moloch watches Zachariel fall to the bed, curled in agony.
“Just tell me what you want me to do!” I cry, looking back and forth between them.
“I want you to watch.” Moloch’s face is impassive.
I do, but only because I can’t think. My brain is fogged with panic and horror as Zachariel’s skin grows more and more gray. Think, dammit.
I suck in a breath and try again. “You don’t have to do this, Moloch.” Even I can hear the desperation in my voice. “There are things I can do for you.” I glance back to Ishtar, hoping she might come to my aid, but she’s just grimly staring at Zachariel’s dying pose.
“I’m sure there will be.” Moloch’s not even looking at me—he’s just enjoying the show of Seth killing Zachariel.
“Not just the shares of Sterling,” I say, panic making my voice squeak. “You’re thinking too small. I can go big. I can… I can… come out as a debt collector. Discredit everything. Sterling. Lifetime. Everything.” My breath hitches as I speak. I’m running out of time. Zachariel is running out of time.
Moloch barely glances at me. “If I wanted to do that, Ms. Sterling, I would have done it long ago.”
My fists are curled up in front of me, shaking. Seth shifts slightly, placing both hands on Zachariel’s face. So he can pull faster. I look down at my own hands clenched uselessly in front of me… if only I was strong enough to stop him… if only I had some kind of weapon…
My suit. Holy shit. It takes me half a second to remember how to activate it. By the tim
e my shaking hand pinches the wrist tab, I don’t even have a whisper of a plan. But it doesn’t matter—there’s only one thing I need to do.
I lunge for Seth. He sees me coming. The life-hit enhanced glee on his face steps up a notch. He was expecting this: me attacking him. He wants the chance to kill me. What he doesn’t expect is to get a few hundred thousand volts for his trouble. He releases Zachariel to grab my arms. His hair flies straight out, his body clenches, and his eyes go wide. Then his body twitches violently, rapidly, until it wrenches his grip free and flings him back on the bed.
He bounces off the mattress and falls to the floor.
All in the space of a second or two. Tops.
I stare for a half second more, then spin and run at Moloch. I’m only a few steps way, so I reach him before he can do more than take a half-step back. I grab for his neck, hoping he will go for my suit, but instead he reaches for my face. I have to fight off his hands, but somewhere in the flailing, he makes contact with the suit, and it tosses one his arms back with the shock. Then I grab him in a bear hug around the chest. He tries to get a hand on my face, but I twist it away. Then he’s twitching hard in my arms, carrying the full load of the shock, until he finally slumps.
I let him drop to the floor.
Ishtar stands next to Moloch’s inert form, staring.
I don’t know if he’s dead. Seth still hasn’t moved. I edge away from her, toward Zachariel. He’s moaning, but he’s hardly ready to jump up and run out of the room.
Ishtar’s gaze finally peels away from Moloch and finds my face. She’s stunned, but she’s putting it together. “I could stop you,” she says.
“You could try,” I reply. I let my palm find Zachariel’s face on the bed behind me and pulse life energy into him. I need him on his feet. But my eyes never leave Ishtar’s face.
She glances at Seth’s body at my feet, and I spare a peek at Zachariel. He’s rousing, blinking. I take his hand, still pumping life energy into him.
“Don’t touch the suit,” I whisper, holding his hand and helping him stand up from the bed. Louder, to Ishtar, I say, “Step away from the door.”
She hesitates.
“Or you can join them on the floor.” I urge Zachariel forward. He almost stumbles over Seth’s body but manages to stay upright.
Ishtar waits one moment more, then shuffles to the side of the door. I have Zachariel go first, letting him swipe it open with his palm screen while I keep facing Ishtar. If she makes some last, desperate bid to stop us, I will kill her. Or stun her. Or something. I’m not at all sure whether Seth and Moloch are dead. But if I leave her alive, I know she can bring them back.
Which makes me think I should kill her.
Zachariel has the door open. “Wraith,” he whispers, urging me to follow.
I don’t move, staring at Ishtar. “I should kill you,” I say.
Her eyes narrow, and her hands flex. “You can try.”
But the truth is, I have no desire to kill her. Not because I like her—I don’t—and not because she’s probably the strongest of the three of them in terms of life energy, and it’s quite possible she could drain me before I could shock her. No… it’s simply that she’s not attacking me. And killing someone in cold blood isn’t the kind of person I want to be.
“Wraith!” Zachariel’s whisper is more urgent.
If we don’t leave now, we may not get the chance.
“Goodbye, Ishtar,” I say.
Her eyes go wide with disbelief as I back out the door. Zachariel punches it closed. Then he takes a moment to tap something into his palm screen. He curses, then taps some more. His hands are shaking so badly, I’m not sure he can do anything with it. But then he swipes it past the door sensor again and it clicks.
“Okay.” His voice is wheezy. “They’re locked in. Let’s go.” He lurches down the hallway.
I hurry after him and reach my palm toward him. “Just the hand, not the suit,” I remind him.
My hair is fully straight out from my head now. I can see it floating in a black halo around me. Zachariel takes my hand, and I flow life energy into him. He swipes us into the central room of Moloch’s gothic palace, which is thankfully empty of any stragglers from his debt collector army. Remarkably, we stumble our way out of Gehenna’s underground den without encountering any other collectors. As we break out into the smog-filtered sunshine of noon in LA, it’s like some miracle has occurred and transported us back into the real world. But I know it’s only a temporary reprieve.
Zachariel is growing stronger with every step. Just before we enter the cab he’s hailed, I deactivate my suit. My hair stays frizzed out beyond belief. But we’re safe. For the moment.
I don’t know how fast Ishtar can revive Moloch and Seth. Or how quickly I can get Wyatt and Miral to safety. But it’s a race I intend to win. In the process, I’ll have to tell Wyatt and Miral everything—every last secret, every bad act. That’s assuming they haven’t already figured it all out, either from the doc on the hand-held I gave Wyatt or straight from Jax’s mouth. The idea makes everything inside me shrivel and cower: the only thing that’s ever been worse than dying, has been the possibility of the people I love knowing the truth about what I am. But that’s nothing when weighed against their lives.
The taxi speeds us toward the towers of downtown LA.
I yell at the taxi driver to go faster for the tenth time in as many minutes.
It’s not her fault the LA downtown traffic materializes out of nowhere at noon. Pedestrians descend from their shining towers to forage for food. A river of black and yellow taxis swim amidst the flow of humanity. And the Sterling tower mocks me from a mile away—so close, but it might as well be a thousand, for all the inches we’re gaining each minute. I’d get out and walk—run, actually—except that Zachariel appears to be dying in the seat next to me. I scan the street behind us, convinced Moloch and Seth will suddenly appear, hunting us while we’re trapped like ants in the slow-flowing molasses of the traffic.
I turn away from the frustrations of the world outside the cab and focus on Zachariel. He’s slumped against the door, the grimace and gray pallor on his face overpowering the residual glow from the life energy I pumped into him. I gently place my palm on the withered and blackened part of his arm—the place were Seth tortured him by killing a piece of him—and pump more life energy in. It revives him enough that he opens his eyes to give me a grateful smile, but when I slip my hand down to hold his, the damage on his arm still remains. Some of the ink-black streaks that spider out from the dead part have lessened. Maybe. I can’t be sure.
“You can’t keep feeding me life energy, Wraith.” His voice is whispery, like he’s having difficulty generating enough wind to make sound. “You can’t fix something that’s dead.”
I scowl at him and peek at the blackened spots showing under his half-buttoned shirt. “Maybe if I give you a dose in the right spot…” I slip my hand inside his shirt, trying to cover a large dead zone by spreading my fingers wide.
He lifts my palm from his chest. “Not that I don’t want your hands on me,” he says with a pained smile that almost breaks my heart, “but you really can’t help.” He turns my hand over and swipes open my palm screen. “Besides, I have something I need to do with that lovely hand of yours.” His finger shakes as he taps something into my screen.
I hold in my protest, even though I can’t stand the thought that Seth’s torture can’t be fixed. What does that mean? How can someone exist with dead parts in their body? Will the damage spread? Is Zachariel going to die? I bite my lip to keep those questions inside my head. He doesn’t need me badgering him about it now. Once we get to safety, I’ll figure out something.
He’s done with my palm, so he opens his own screen and goes to work there.
“Are you locking Moloch out of our screens?” I ask.
“Yes. And disabling the tracker on mine.” His voice still has too much wheeze in it.
The taxi lurches forward… the
n stops. The cluster of mirrored buildings that contain Sterling Cybernetics shine like blue beacons in the near-distance, reflecting the brilliant sky accessible only to the high potentials they house.
Zachariel squints from the glare. “We’re not making very good time. You should go ahead without me, Alexandra. Get to your friends. Warn them. Just don’t use your phone—Moloch can still trace it if you broadcast.”
“I am not leaving you half-dead in a taxi cab.”
He smiles, but it seems to cause him pain. “You’ve already paid me back by getting me out of there. Seth can be a nasty piece of work when Moloch lets him off the leash. And I don’t think he ever really liked me.”
“The only person Seth likes is Ishtar,” I say. “Which is why I told him I had fun playing house with her this morning.”
Zachariel laughs, then coughs, then doubles over. “You didn’t,” he gasps out between the wheezing and the laughter.
“What? Make out with Ishtar? No. But Seth sure thinks I did.”
Zachariel leans back against the door, laboring to suck in air. He wipes his eyes, like the laughter has watered them up. “God, Wraith, I think I might actually love you.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me,” I say. “You’re not allowed to die yet.”
That sobers us both. I want to drum up something witty to say, something to cover the awkward silence that’s filled the cab all of a sudden, but then it lurches forward and keeps going… apparently there was some jam-up on the street that’s now clear. We’re sailing toward Sterling Cybernetics at a rip-roaring twenty miles an hour. But it feels like we’ve broken out of jail.
I brace against the swaying of the cab to gently button up Zachariel’s shirt. He lets me because his hands are trembling too much for him to do it himself, but he won’t let me feed him any more life energy. Which only makes him get progressively worse: the wheezing becomes more audible, the shadows under his eyes deepen. He doesn’t have to tell me–I can see he’s slowly dying from whatever damage Seth inflicted.
The Debt Collector (Season Two) Page 25
