His face tightens with emotion.
“If I don’t come back, Eli, it’s because I love her, and I believe in her. And I couldn’t leave her behind.”
His lip trembles for just a second, then it’s stone hard again. He picks at a thread fraying from his pants. If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I probably wouldn’t have seen that tremor of emotion at all.
The lights click off, and my brother swears again. I wave my hand, and they blink back on.
“The flaws of energy conservation,” I mumble.
My brother couldn’t care less. He stands from the bunk and pulls me into a hard embrace. It’s fierce and a little desperate, but I don’t mind. I don’t know the next time I’ll see him. The next time I’ll smell that scent of Winterfresh gum and Dove soap. I find myself whispering prayers for him. Prayers for his coming children and wife. Prayers for Gloria and Maisie and, above all, Jesse. Prayers for all of us.
The door beeps, signaling that moment before it slides open and allows someone to come in.
Of course, I’m expecting Nikki, as no one else knows we’re here, but it isn’t Nikki who steps into the room.
It’s Eve who blocks out the light from the hallway. Her hair is dyed bright red. She wears a black and white striped sweater over dark jeans. A plastic tag sits fixed to one hip, the kind that explodes with ink if it is pried off.
She stole those pants, I think. But that thought dies away instantly. A slight rotation of her wrist catches the overhead light, and something flashes across my vision.
“There you are,” she says, and I look from her face to the knife in her hand.
I turn slowly.
“Al—” my brother begins.
“Foe,” I whisper. I angle my shoulder forward so that I am closer to Eve than he is.
As soon as Eve sees me do this, she raises her knife and points it at me. The blade is level with my eyes.
“Whoa!” My brother says. His hands lift in my periphery, but I don’t turn my head. I don’t dare look away from Eve. “Everyone take a breath.”
I don’t know who everyone is supposed to be. The only one making threats is Eve.
She turns the knife on him. “I’m here for her. She’s the one that lied to me. She’s the one who betrayed me. She got my daughter k-killed.”
Her voice cracks.
I open my mouth, and Eve jabs the knife at me. “I know what you’ll say. I already know what you’ll fucking say!”
I don’t dare contradict her.
“You think my Nessa deserved to die because I hurt your friend.”
“I’d never say a child deserved to die.”
“They sent me a picture of what they’d done to her,” Eve says. Tears spill from the corners of her eyes. “What they did to my sweet baby’s face. If I could kill a hundred of those monsters to bring her back, I would.”
“Killing my sister won’t bring your daughter back,” Eli says softly.
“That’s where you’re wrong. He says he’ll bring her back if I do this.”
“Don’t fall for that again,” I say. “Someone already used your daughter to manipulate you. Don’t let that happen again.”
“This is different. This is an angel.”
My stomach turns. An angel who wants to kill Jesse. Does this have to do with the gate? With the point of convergence that Gabriel mentioned?
Gabriel?
“He has the power to bring her back to me.”
My brother stiffens beside me. “No one has that power.”
“He does!” she screams. She points the blade at him. “He does!”
Gabriel. A little intervention, please.
None of us move. We stand there, frozen in place, waiting for someone to make the first move.
The overhead light clicks off.
We’re thrown into complete darkness. Instinctually, I step back and the light clicks on to reveal Eve’s face, screaming and hideous. She brings the knife down as a purple flash of light engulfs me.
Instead of burying the blade in my neck, it slides along the surface of the purple shield and scrapes the metal bunk overhead. Sparks fly, sputtering, but I manage to bring my knee up and kick her squarely in her chest. She falls back, arms going out comically to catch herself.
Eli yells and charges like a football player, knocking Eve full into the door.
She cries out, but manages to bring the knife around, slashing Eli’s upper right arm. He screams. I dart forward, ready to pull her off of him. But the door opens, sliding up and away.
Both Eli and Eve spill into the hallway. Eve’s head hits hard, and she goes limp on impact. That cracking sound couldn’t have been good.
“What the hell?” Nikki says.
She takes in Eve, Eli, and then finally me, with my purple shield shimmering.
“He’s been stabbed,” I shout at her, anything to get her moving instead of just standing there trying to piece together the scene.
She pokes the intercom in her ear. “Man down. Send aid to pod 334 immediately. Prep medical bay.”
I kneel beside Eli, rolling him off the unconscious woman, the knife only inches from her fingertips.
“Get that away from her,” I say to Nikki. She kicks the blade further down the hallway. It skids along the white tile, blood droplets stark against the gleaming surface.
That’s Eli’s blood. My god, Eli could have been killed.
Eli hisses. “Easy now.”
I’m ripping off the bottom of his dress shirt and pressing it hard against the wound. It soaks through with blood almost instantly. I curse and tear another strip.
“Kelly loves this shirt.”
“This isn’t funny.”
When I tear off the third strip, Eli seizes my hand, crushing the fabric inside it. “Leave me some dignity. My belly button is showing!”
“Let me see,” Nikki begs.
He scowls at her.
“Your arm,” she clarifies.
While Eli and I tussle with the shirt, Nikki peels back the slit and inspects the wound inside. “This will need stitches,” she proclaims.
So close. My god, that was so close. He could’ve died.
Tears hit the back of his hand. My tears. I look up to see their faces swimming in droplets of water and light. I blink to reveal their worried faces.
The elevator dings, and rushing feet pound down the hallway.
Nikki is trying to peel the fabric out of my hand. “It’s okay. You can let go. They’ll get him to medical and stitch him up.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” I say. My throat is thick with emotion.
“I came because I wanted to,” Eli says. He’s still trying to wrap his tattered shirt around his belly, but there isn’t enough of it anymore.
“It was a mistake.”
“No.”
Two people in scrubs haul him up off the floor and into the black wheel chair. They leave me there with bloodied scraps of fabric at my feet and all those smears of blood.
I look up and meet Jeremiah’s eyes.
“You brought her here,” I say. Suddenly I’m shouting. “It was your plane.”
Foe, my brain says. Foe.
“Alice—
“You did this!”
He opens his palms in surrender. “Al—”
But he doesn’t get my name past his lips a second time. I’m already running.
A hand catches me around the waist and hauls me up.
“He’s going to be okay,” Nikki groans in my ear.
“It was his plane! He let her on! He brought her here, knowing she wanted to kill me.”
Jeremiah doesn’t even defend himself. He’s already backing away toward the elevator.
“Let me go!” I scream.
But she doesn’t let go. She holds me tighter until the elevator closes and Jeremiah is out of sight. Only then does she set me on my feet.
I push off of her. “He did this! He’s responsible!”
“No,” Nikk
i says, bringing her eyes up to meet mine with tremendous effort. “That was me.”
Chapter 14
Jesse
Michael hurls another beam of light. I use the teleportation power to appear behind him, facing the opposite side of the shore. My feet dig into the sand, making too much sound. I manage to unfurl the death ribbons while his back is still turned. Smoke-like striking vipers shoot forward, gunning for his back. I have time to spare just one thought: I stole this power from Maisie’s mother by killing her.
More proof that you are the monster you fear, a voice cackles through my mind. You killed your sister’s mother. How do you think she feels now? You took the only family she had and abandoned her. Like Danny—you left her with no one.
I whirl to face the voice, expecting another attack from Michael, but he isn’t there.
The smoke rolls along the sand and water, fizzing in the surf. I hear a sound behind me and turn just before something cuts through the air where my shoulder was a moment before.
“You’re not very good at moving, are you,” he says. It isn’t really a question. One of his barbs of lightning strikes the sand and fizzles.
I struggle to keep myself upright. Mindscape or not, I still seem as slow and clumsy on this beach as any in the real world.
He sneers. “That’s my power you’re abusing.”
“Yeah well, you’ve probably had it for centuries or millennia. I just got it.” God, really? I think, stumbling on the thought. But it’s true. Caldwell just died in the desert days ago, and now here I am—doing whatever the hell dance this is.
“Why use it against me at all?” he asks, sticking the tip of his sword in the sand again and huffing at me. “I will come through this gate, and when that happens, I will take this world.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I say.
This is all bravado because I am not sure how many more time slips I can take. How much more guilt, or confusion, before I lose my foothold.
What happens if Michael forces me out? If he takes the gate for himself? Can he do that?
I wish Gabriel would tell me. Hell, I wish he’d say anything at all. Damn him and his poor communication skills!
Where the hell are you?
Michael laughs, circling me on the beach. I try to keep my position with the cold water rushing up the back of my thighs.
The full-bodied maliciousness of his laughter makes my stomach hitch. “Do you really think this is my only plan of attack? Sparring with you while the gate readies itself for me?
I roll my eyes upward, but only for a second. That’s all I need—a shaft of light shoved up my ass while I give my opponent sass. “Is this the part where you tell me how powerful you are? How you’ve been holding back, and if I don’t hurry up and comply, you’re really going to give it to me?”
Michael’s expression darkens. Without saying anything he lunges. “It isn’t enough to unmoor you. I must strike you in the heart.”
“Poetic.”
“Would you really like to see?” he asks.
Gabriel flickers on the beach behind Michael. Whatever I’m about to say dies on my lips. I’m so happy to see him—my friend and ally—that I move forward, a cry on the tip of my tongue.
Something slams into my chest, knocking me back. My knees fold, and I hit the sand.
I’m trying to breathe, despite the sharp pain in my chest.
“You have to pull it out!” Gabriel shouts over the waves.
I know he’s talking to me, but I can’t lift my head. I’m staring at my hands in the surf. They are opening and closing on wet sand as white foam washes over my knuckles.
There are great flashes of light and roars like a hundred snarling animals trying to devour one another. But I can’t lift my head. Feverish hot-cold chills crawl along my skin.
You have to pull it out.
That’s what she said. I’m not even sure I’m talking aloud.
My teeth chatter. My shoulders shake.
I run a hand down the front of my shirt and find something protruding from my chest. I pull, feel my flesh pucker but not give. Whatever is stuck in me is in the meat. Oh man, this is going to hurt.
I suck in a deep breath and yank hard and fast.
An explosion of pain erupts through me.
I squint at the object in my hand, lifting it close to my eyes to inspect it. My fingers are soaked in blood. But before I can understand what I’m looking at, my vision clouds over, leaving me with only an angry smear of gray and black and white.
I have to blink several times before my wet palm comes into focus again.
A small arrow of light rolls along the creases. It has a silver tip of starlight at one end. No, not a star. A whole universe rolling like a marble in the palm of my hand.
Poison, I think nonsensically. He’s poisoned me again. And just when I was starting to feel okay.
I try to stand, to get further onto shore before any more sand is washed out from under me, but I collapse onto my hands and knees.
The salt water—if this is even a real ocean—will burn like hell in my wound, too.
I only crawl a few feet toward the house before my elbows fold.
I roll onto my back, feeling the cool water wash through my hair. I stare up at the stormy sky. When the lightning crashes, I see a thousand angel-shaped shadows descend.
I step off a plane onto a dusty tarmac. Grit scrapes beneath my sneakers as I shuffle forward so the person behind me can pass. I look around, trying to figure out where I am. I note all the planes, all the people shuffling toward the concrete building, descending its ramp into the building itself. In the other direction is more endless, dusty earth. It isn’t the desert, but it sure isn’t lush either.
Someone squeals. A sound of irrepressible joy, and I turn, thinking I recognize the voice.
And there she is. Ally stands on the tarmac, her arms wrapped about her brother Eli’s neck and squeezing.
I’m so relieved to see her smiling and happy that I don’t even care that she’s standing beside Nikki—whom I could do without.
Before I consider what I’m doing, I’m running across the tarmac toward her. My sneakers slap against the concrete, echoing loudly as I navigate the pressing crowd.
When I arrive in front of her, she only blinks at me.
For one horrible second, I think this is a bad dream. She’s forgotten who I am.
One hand goes to her chest. “Jesse.”
I throw my arms around her. I’m hugging her so hard she probably can’t breathe.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmurs into my hair. “I’m so glad you’re finally here. I have something to tell you.”
“What?” I ask. My mind trips on this. Where is here? I don’t even know. I can’t even remember where I was before now—the presumptive before place that I must have left in order to arrive somewhere new at all.
I’m trying to puzzle it out, trying to remember where I was or what I was doing before I got on a plane. It was a plane, right?
“What do you want to tell me?” I ask.
“I got married!” she exclaims with all the fervor of a new bride. “Oh, Jess! It was wonderful!”
“What?”
“I got married!”
“Are you freaking kidding? To who?”
Nikki is standing right there, and her smile is vicious, triumphant. The next thing I know, there’s a knife in my hand. I feel the cold weight of it settle into my palm only a moment before I thrust it forward.
Gut her, I think. I’m going to gut her for this.
I grab Ally, planning to shove her out of the way, but she wedges herself between us.
And the blade goes right through. Her flesh offers little resistance due to the size of the blade.
Her mouth falls open in surprise. She coughs, blood splattering over her lower lip. Her brother tackles me, but I push him off easily.
Nikki watches all of this with a murderous grin.
“It was supposed to
be you!” I scream at her. “It was supposed to be you!”
He grabs me from behind and lifts me off my feet. I kick the air, wildly screaming as several more guards appear from nowhere, to subdue me.
Ally and Nikki sink to the concrete. Blood is pouring over Nikki’s hands and over Ally’s lips, staining her teeth red.
“Oh my god, no,” I say. No, no, no.
“You can’t replace her,” Nikki says, in a hollow voice. “You already did that.”
I look at her, shocked at the steady drone of her voice. Instead of seeing her usual fiery expression, she has flat black eyes. Demon eyes void of emotion.
“You killed her.”
“No,” I say. “She won’t die. She can’t die.”
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You always use her like this. You don’t care if she gets hurt as long as you live to fight another day.”
“That’s not true!” I scream.
But Ally is coughing blood. She’s moaning my name. She’s crying.
“That’s not true.” I don’t even know who I am trying to convince. Eli starts dragging me away.
The unthinkable happens.
The light fades from Ally’s eyes. They stay open, unblinking. Her trembling lips stop moving.
Someone is screaming at the top of their lungs. Someone is howling like they’re being skinned alive. It isn’t until my entire body ignites in purple fire, that I realize it’s me.
Chapter 15
Ally
Nikki apologizes for the hundredth time. She explains how she was responsible for vetting the passengers onto the aircraft. How she should have caught Eve before she ever touched down. How she had made sure the cameras in both our POD and my brother’s were disabled because of a fight that we’d had a long time ago about privacy in living quarters—back when we shared an apartment in Tate Tower – Chicago.
She keeps trying to assure me again and again that she takes full responsibility. I believe that she believes that, but I am not sure it’s the whole story.
I’m only half listening to her as excuses pour from her lips. I’m preoccupied replaying the attack in my mind, trying to understand what just happened, what was said and what it means.
Dying Day Page 16
