The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I looked at Jason, confused, then my eyes landed back on the boy. It all started to make sense. I knew him. “Peter?”

  “Hey, Zoe,” he said, and I knew his voice instantly.

  I blinked. “You…you were in my head.”

  32

  DANI

  DECEMBER 15, 1AE

  The Farm, California

  “Thank you so much, Pretty Girl,” I said to Wings, showering her with as much affection and gratitude as I could pour through our telepathic bond. Really, with her and Jack, our connection went beyond telepathic. We were a part of each other.

  I placed my hand on the sweaty fabric of my tank top, just over the itty bitty swell I may or may not have been imagining on my abdomen. And now she’s a part of our secret little circle, too.

  Eyes widening, I stared down at my hand, at my belly, at the lemon-sized life growing within. She? Had I really just thought of it—her, I felt certain—as a girl? I shook my head. Now, how could I possibly know that? But I did. I knew she was a girl. I knew.

  Is it her? Is she communicating with me? I sat up straighter and looked around the cottage’s living room, lips parted in a combination of shock and awe. Am I passing information about me to her as well? I already suspected she had some intuitive form of Jason’s Ability, so why not some form of mine as well?

  Chris came bustling in through the front door, shut it, and paused with hands on hips to glare at me. “Sorry I’m late—oh my Jesus God…damn it, Dani!” She swept across the room. “You’re sweating like a pig! It’s the middle of the night; you should be resting!”

  Hot flashes were my latest unfavorable pregnancy symptom. Of course, I would take nonstop sweating over vomiting any day of the week. I shrugged. “I am resting…while I talk to Zo and Jason and the others.” I flicked my eyes toward the hallway and Annie’s door, hidden just out of sight. “And keep your voice down. She’s drifting.”

  Chris snorted and crossed her arms, then rolled her eyes and crouched before the hearth. Almost without thought, it seemed, she began to tend to the dying fire. “How is everyone? Are they on their way back? Is—”

  “Chris…”

  Chris looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  I met her eyebrow raise with one of my own. “I’m limiting you to two questions at a time. Kapeesh?”

  Chris pursed her lips, but at least she held her tongue.

  I smiled minutely, settling back into my recliner.

  “They found Zo—she’s alright,” I said, before Chris could badger me. I felt constantly on the verge of crying, I was so relieved. “Not in great shape—she’s a little beat up from the accident, and the men who kidnapped her drugged her and took a lot of blood…” I frowned, recollecting my composure as my chin trembled and my eyes stung with unshed tears. Every time I imagined what she’d been through…

  I cleared my throat. “Zo was pretty tired when I spoke to her, so we didn’t talk for long, and Jason and the others are focused on getting back here, so all of my convos were pretty brief.” Letting out an agitated, exhausted breath, I leaned my head back. “Jason and I are going to talk more when they get on the plane.”

  I stared at the embers glowing beneath the new pieces of firewood Chris had placed above them. Even though I’d heard his mental voice, part of me wouldn’t believe Jason was really safe, was really coming back to me, until I saw him with my own two eyes. Part of me expected the worst. It was almost like that part of me was waiting for something else to happen to him…like hope had been cauterized out of that part of me.

  “And Harper and Biggs?” Chris asked.

  I nodded slowly, still staring into the blossoming fire. “They met up with the others about fifteen minutes ago. That was how I found them.”

  “Wait,” Chris said, “back up. Did you say ‘plane’ a second ago?”

  Blinking lazily, almost like I was waking up, I focused on Chris. “Yeah. They’re flying back down here…on a plane. A real, live airplane. Can you believe it?”

  “Honestly?” Chris said, shaking her head and sitting back on her heels. “There’s not much I won’t believe these days.” A moment later, she added, “But a plane—that’s definitely unexpected.”

  Chewing on my lip, I nodded my agreement. Unexpected, indeed. “They’re going to land at the Petaluma airport. We should saddle some horses for them.” I returned to staring at the fire. “And get a cart ready—in Zo’s condition, it’ll be better if she doesn’t have to ride.”

  Chris stood and took a step away from the fireplace, but froze and looked at me, eyes narrowed. “What about Wings and the other horses? How big of a plane are we talking about here?”

  I smiled. “They’re already on their way back…on the ground.” My smile widened to a grin. Wings’s giddiness at being able to run free with her small herd, unburdened and unrushed, was spilling into me. Pulling at me. She wanted me to join her. I wanted to join her. But I had a telepathic date with my husband, something that went beyond the hurried “Hey, glad you’re alive, can’t wait to see you!” we’d been limited to just a few moments earlier.

  I shook my head, then pushed myself up out of the comfortable chair. “Let’s get those horses ready.”

  Chris led the way to the door, tossing my coat to me before heading outside. She paused in the doorway and pointed to the rubber goulashes on the floor by the door. “Boots, too, hon. You’re not going to be one of those barefoot mamas, not on my watch.”

  I sighed heavily even as I pulled one boot, then the other onto my bare feet. It would’ve been much more comfortable with socks, but we were in a bit of a time crunch. Larissa had told me they’d be landing in a half hour to forty-five minutes, assuming they managed to get into the air relatively quickly.

  “Not with how easy it is for a cut to get infected these days,” Chris went on. “Not to mention what a blood infection could do to a pregnant woman…”

  “Chris, seriously, you can stop.” I straightened and crossed my arms over my chest. “The damn boots are on my damn feet, okay?”

  Chris sniffed. “You should be wearing socks, too.”

  I rolled my eyes and wiggled my toes inside their rubber confines. “Don’t I know it…”

  “Well, good.” Chris met my eyes, expression stern. A moment later, her lips spread into a broad grin, and she pulled me into a tight hug, which I returned readily. “They’re coming home,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Our family’s coming home.”

  33

  ANNA

  DECEMBER 16, 1AE

  Sacramento, California

  From her vantage point in one of the two back seats of the small but luxurious charter jet, Anna catalogued her companions, studying—assessing—each one to the soundtrack of hushed conversations and roaring engines. At first sight, they seemed such an odd band of people, such a curious grouping. The meek young woman, the hardened soldier, the confident scientist, the silent watcher, the sickly boy…some had been military in the old world, some had been lost souls, but all of them, like Anna, had been trying their hardest just to survive from day to day.

  “Something amusing?” Gabriel said from the seat on the other side of the aisle. His voice was dry, devoid of humor.

  Anna shook her head. She felt like a lifetime had passed since they’d parted ways so many months ago. It seemed a lifetime had passed for Gabriel, as he was clearly a different person now. He, like his childhood friend sitting on the floor of the plane up near the seat where Zoe dozed, had been one of the lost souls, before. Anna caught her eldest son’s eye over the top of the seat separating them, and a second later, he looked away, a minute, wistful smile on his face and a thousand-yard stare filling his eyes. He, too, had been a lost soul, but not anymore. That much was clear as he carried on a silent conversation with his wife, some eighty miles away.

  Anna didn’t know much about the woman seated across the aisle from Jason—Sanchez, she’d introduced herself as—or Biggs, the man in the seat facing Sanchez’s, other
than that both had clearly been in the military. It was evident in the way they carried themselves and in the way they interacted with each other that they’d been part of the same company, or had at least known each other for quite some time.

  Movement drew Anna’s attention to the cockpit. Tom stood in the opening, hunched over as he murmured inaudible words to the group’s medical doctor, Harper, who’d been hovering back and forth between Zoe and Sanchez since he joined them less than an hour ago. Harper turned sideways, allowing Tom to squeeze past.

  Sanchez seemed to be doing alright despite the cuts and intense bruising on the left side of her face. Anna was far more worried about Zoe—not only had her wounds from the accident not been tended to properly, but it had been clear when they’d found her that she was dehydrated and severely anemic. Her pulse was still too weak, her skin sallow from the loss of too much blood. Anna didn’t think it was possible to feel more thankful or relieved than she’d felt the moment Tom had put an arrow through Randall’s head just outside the house. They’d been incredibly lucky that the two kidnappers had been separated when Anna and the others had launched their rescue. Killing Randall had been almost too easy, and the other—Carl—had all but killed himself.

  Tom clapped Harper on the shoulder as he squeezed past, giving the younger man what looked like a grateful nod. His eyes met Anna’s for the briefest moment before he paused to crouch down beside Zoe’s seat. Gazing up at her, he took her hand in his. Though Anna couldn’t hear the words exchanged between them, she recognized the look on Tom’s face—filled with love, affection, and so much worry. He’d looked at Anna like that before, too, more times than she could count. But now, as she watched the tender father–daughter moment, she felt like an intruder, a voyeur…one who couldn’t look away.

  Until Tom glanced at Anna, once more.

  Her heart pounded, her lungs constricting. She and Tom had yet to speak beyond a stilted greeting and brief words in passing, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to really talk. Not there, in the middle of the night on a cramped plane filled with nearly a dozen others. She had no idea what to say, let alone what he might say. Awful things, she imagined. Terrible, painful, heartbreaking things.

  “Wes?” Gabriel was leaning across the aisle. He reached for her arm and gave it a squeeze. “Wes?” He shook her gently. “You alright?”

  Anna couldn’t breathe. Her head was suddenly throbbing, and she could feel sweat beading on her forehead, her neck, all over her body. She clutched the front of her jacket, looking around wildly as the cabin closed in around her.

  “Wes?”

  Gabriel was halfway out of his seat when Anna burst up from hers. She lurched into the compact lavatory in the very back of the plane, shut the door, and barely had the toilet seat raised when the first dry heave struck. Followed by another, and another, and another. Luckily, she hadn’t had the chance to eat or drink much of anything all day, not with all of the escaping and flying and rescuing.

  Sighing, Anna pressed her back against the wall and sank down to the floor. There was barely enough room for her to sit with her knees pulled up against her chest, but it would do. It had to. She lifted her hands, watching them tremble. With how severely she was shaking, she doubted her legs were strong enough to carry her back to her seat yet.

  Anna took a deep breath. She needed to pull herself together, she had to. She wasn’t caged in with some random band of survivors—it was her husband, son, and daughter, the very family she’d abandoned to protect…the family she’d ruined civilization to protect. And she truly did feel like an intruder, like she didn’t belong in their world.

  Minutes passed, ten, maybe twenty, and Anna figured they must be close to touching down. She’d felt them enter their descent shortly after locking herself in the lavatory. They had to be almost there. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She couldn’t hide forever. She wouldn’t.

  Anna wiped the back of her hand over her mouth as she pushed herself up off the floor. Clearing her throat, she pulled the lavatory door inward. It folded open eagerly, revealing Tom’s wiry form. He stood with his hands braced on either side of the doorway.

  Eyes wide, Anna took a step back and fell onto the toilet. She barely managed to slow her descent with a hand on the miniscule counter.

  “Anna…” Tom’s eyes held oceans of secrets…judgements…resentment. But the pity was the worst of all.

  “I’m fine,” Anna said hoarsely, gripping the edge of the toilet seat so hard it hurt her fingers.

  Tom inhaled deeply, the succeeding exhale holding years of irritation. Without taking his eyes from her, he held out a palm to the side, signaling one of the other passengers to leave them be. Was it Peter or Jason, Anna wondered, or maybe Gabriel?

  Tom crouched down, much as he’d done beside Zoe’s seat, planting one knee on the floor and resting an elbow on his other. “Anna, we need to talk about—”

  “How did you find us?” Anna blurted. When Tom responded with a quizzical tilt of his head, she clarified, “When we landed in Sacramento.”

  “Ah…” Tom rubbed his hand over his short, salt-and-pepper beard. Anna had never seen him so unkempt, but she didn’t find the vagabond look overly unappealing on him, either. “Well, it’s sort of hard not to notice a plane landing these days…”

  “But the illusion,” Anna said, wanting to draw out this topic until the plane’s wheels were on the ground and it was time to get out of the damn metal cage. “You shouldn’t have been able to see us.”

  Tom shook his head, smiling ruefully.

  Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Illusions don’t work on me anymore,” Tom said, blue eyes sparkling. He nodded up the aisle, toward the cockpit. “Even illusions created by one as strong as Larissa, it seems, and it was easy enough to sense who was on the plane.” Reaching across the short distance separating them, Tom took one of Anna’s hands in his. “Listen, Anna…”

  Anna’s heart rate escalated, her breaths coming quicker.

  Tom paused and eyed her. His brow furrowed, and she thought she saw a flicker of pain or maybe sorrow shadow his gaze. Sighing heavily, Tom released her hand. “Later, then. We’re about to land, anyway.” Groaning, he climbed to his feet. “Come on. You should get back to your seat and buckle up before we touch down.” He extended his hand toward her. “I know how much you hate flying.”

  Anna looked at his hand, then up at his face, then back down at his hand. Clenching her jaw, she forced herself to reach out to him, to accept his help up. Because that’s all it was, a helpful hand up.

  Tom’s hand remained wrapped around Anna’s until she was halfway into her seat.

  It was just a helpful hand, she reminded herself.

  It was nothing.

  It was nothing.

  But in her heart, it had sure as hell felt like something.

  34

  ZOE

  DECEMBER 16, 1AE

  Petaluma, California

  Four days was all it had taken to reduce me to the weakened, pathetic heap I’d become. The growing strength of my Ability over the past year, my advancing weapon skills, and my seemingly endless self-defense training had done me absolutely no good in protecting me against the twisted minds of Carl and Randall. I couldn’t help but upbraid myself for that as I sat on the tailgate of an abandoned service truck on the lone landing strip at the Petaluma Airport, chagrined.

  At least, thanks to Becca, I finally had real clothes on, my tore up, holey ones that I’d been wearing the night of the accident; she’d had the presence of mind to grab them from the top of the dresser back in the room that had been my prison. I didn’t care that there were rips in my jeans and that my long-sleeve shirt was tearing at the sleeve seams, they were mine. And even more fortunately, someone had thought to salvage my leather jacket from the wreck, so I was fairly warm in the wee, cold hours of the morning. Someone else’s socks covered my bare feet and I had no shoes, but that was fine; i
t wasn’t like I’d be walking very far, anyway. All of us were waiting for the horse cavalry to arrive and take us home.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, wrought with tension and feeling a little bruised. In spite of the unknown amounts of blood that had been drained from my body and the residual nausea and fogginess from what remained of the drugs in my system, I was feeling better—relieved, if a little anxious. Not only was I alive and going home, but my family was here, living—breathing—all of them. I was still trying to wrap my mind around that and the fact that Tavis wouldn’t be joining us.

  Closing my eyes, I let the brisk, clarifying air of predawn fill my nose and stir my senses. The flight from Sacramento had been short, if a little crowded and bumpy, and I’d dozed in and out of consciousness. Larissa was a good pilot and seemed to be a trustworthy addition to our group; both the remorse of what she’d been forced to do to Jason and Dani and her growing appreciation for our group were palpable. Her self-loathing and abhorrence of all that she’d been a part of made her real, made her human, someone I knew we could trust.

  But even with the increased number of our group in such a small, confined space, everyone had been mostly quiet on the flight home. Exhaustion. Trepidation. Indecision. There were many emotions that had hung in our silence, amplified by my Ability after days of suffocation, and it was more difficult for me to turn off than I was used to. And the auras were back; everyone had them now, except for the Re-gens. The glowing colors were constant and strong now, beautiful even, and impossible to ignore.

  I closed my eyes and took another deep, rejuvenating breath, trying to exhale the knot forming in my mostly empty stomach. Having everyone together could be bad…or it could be good. Regardless, I felt tension, thick as the ropes that had been bound around my wrists, following my mom everywhere she went. She was uncertain—everyone was uncertain about her.

  “I think it’s a good thing.”