True Storm

by L. E. Sterling

  “Lucinda.” A voice breaks through the fog of misery that engulfs me at the thought of having to leave my sister behind in the dirt.

  The hair on my arms stands to attention. Not least because someone has called me by my full name. It’s the voice, deep and lilting, with that peculiar accent, that has my head whipping up. Lyoo-cinda.

  I hadn’t even seen him approach, though clearly Jared did. He elbows me out of the way, a sinister snarl on his face.

  “Wh-Wh—” I stutter, trying to push my guardian out of the way, and when that doesn’t work, I simply peer over his shoulder.

  And stare into the long-dead face of Leo Resnikov.

  …

  Resnikov. The man who stole my sister. The man my sister says she loved, a voice reminds me. Loved and married, even.

  “You’re alive.” I say the words but I still don’t believe my eyes. I blink as I look over his ghost, though surely the tall, dashing figure is not a specter. Dressed in an impeccable suit in that foreign style of his, with the straight, raised collar and long coattail, his hair long and unkempt, brushing his collar, he looks like the Resnikov we knew before. But there’s something different about him, too. He’s lost weight, I see. The hollows of his cheeks have become even more pronounced. He stares at me with a weight of grief I didn’t think possible.

  He opens his palms to me and shrugs, as though he, too, is surprised to see me. “I couldn’t stay away. But it is not smart for me to have come.”

  “I thought you were dead. What are you doing here?”

  He tips his head and glances at me strangely. “Surely you know.”

  “I’m going to be so happy to kill you.” Jared walks up and smiles through a mouth of deadly teeth. But I can’t have Jared kill the man before us—not yet, at any rate.

  My words are impatient. I squeeze Jared’s arm, hard as I can, hoping I make a dent. This might be important. “Know what, Leo?”

  “Your sister and me,” he begins. But then he bows his head, hands going to rest on his hips.

  Utterly forgetting himself, Jared snarls, razor-sharp teeth drawing down in his mouth. “Your sister and me what.”

  But then Resnikov and I lock eyes. And in that moment I think I know all I need to know. “Tell him,” I say softly.

  “I loved her. She loved me. We were married. We’ve been meeting secretly these past few months.”

  Jared roars. “Liar!” With just seconds to spare, I throw myself on Jared’s body to keep him from lunging at Resnikov’s throat. I push him back with all the strength in me as the other True Borns stand at attention.

  “Look at me.” I say it with all the imperiousness a Fox sister can muster. Jared’s gaze darts back and forth between Resnikov and me. “Look. He’s telling the truth.”

  Jared pales. “You didn’t tell me.”

  And that’s when I feel the tears finally well, threatening to spill and never stop. My chest aches with the barometric pressure of an impending storm. “She didn’t confide in me. Just about the marriage, near the end. When we thought we were going to die.” I stop. I put a hand to my chest and wonder idly how it is that my heart continues to beat. “I didn’t know they had been seeing each other.”

  “Lu.” In the moments since Resnikov’s appearance, Jared’s eyes have gone wild. His fingers have turned to claws, but he gentles them on the skin of my arms. “Lu, you should have told me.”

  “What does it matter? She’s dead.”

  “And that is why I’m here,” Resnikov breaks in. “I needed—I need to say goodbye to my wife.” His voice breaks, and for one tiny moment, I glimpse what it is that Margot saw in this man. Watch him—he’s treachery, a small voice inside me warns. I’d be wise to heed this little whisper that reminds me of what Resnikov was willing to do to get what he wanted from us.

  My voice grows hard and firm. “Where is my father?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me the truth or I’ll let Jared rip you to pieces.”

  But Resnikov just sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose as though it hurts. “Don’t you see? Our alliance was at an end when I let Margot escape.”

  I laugh, the sound as bitter and hollow as I feel. “You let her escape?”

  Resnikov pins me with a wry look. “You think it would have been that easy for you and this True Born to take her, had I not wanted you to get her out of there?” For a moment the world is hushed, holding its breath, while I consider Resnikov’s words.

  “We blew up your factory.” I can hear the smile in Jared’s voice.

  “Yes. Another ultimately empty gesture. You did me a favor.” The Russian shrugs.

  My fists clench at my sides. I have never wanted to hit someone more. “How do you reckon?”

  But now he laughs. The lines at his eyes spread with dull mirth. “We knew pretty quickly that the therapy was not complete without your blood, Lucinda. Margot’s DNA could almost be used on its own, but not entirely.”

  I might never have this chance again. The questions are worth the risk, especially if Resnikov really can’t tell us where our parents are. “Who made us? Was it that scientist in your lab?”

  There’s genuine amusement on the tall man’s face as he hooks his hands together at his back. Jared grows ever more apprehensive. I can feel his heart thudding in his chest. I try to calm my own beating heart in the hopes it will help him stay under control.

  “It was a team. But you girls were always a surprise. I was very young then. It was my father who struck the devil’s bargain with your own. He did not live to see the results, sadly.”

  “What was the purpose?”

  Resnikov tilts his head. “How can you ask such a silly question?” Jared’s warning growl fills the air as Resnikov motions with his arms, his body signaling boredom. “Stand down, kitty. I’m not here to hurt her.”

  “What was the purpose?” I ask again.

  “To control the Plague. To control who is healed by it.”

  We already knew this. I want to know the mechanics. I want to know how they planned to profit from our genes.

  “What does my father want?”

  Resnikov turns his face to the ground. His hands fold inside the pockets of his pants as he shoots me a murderous look. “Your father? Your father is a man I’m going to kill.”

  It doesn’t matter that I know he’s the devil in flesh. My blood runs cold in my veins as I take in the sincerity of Resnikov’s pledge. He means to kill Lukas Fox.

  I feel sick as I ask it. “Because of Margot?”

  “Because of Margot. Because he betrayed me.” He gestures at the funeral guests, the faces of the mourners as they anxiously watch the scene between us. “Look around you. You think this is all an accident? Any of it? It’s not. That man has machinated all this. All of it.”

  “Margot and me.”

  Though Jared is a solid buffer, Resnikov leans over and spits. “You were little pawns in a very large game, Lucinda. And the game isn’t yet done.”

  “Can I kill him now?” Jared seethes.

  I pause to carefully consider Jared’s request. I reckon Resnikov sees I’m serious, because he takes a step back, then another. “No,” I say thoughtfully. “Any enemy of my father’s is someone we’d do better to keep alive. And Storm might need information from him later. Can’t get intel from a corpse.”

  From where I stand, I can almost see Resnikov’s hackles rise. He looks at me as though he’s never seen me before. I can’t blame him. I don’t know when I crossed the line and became a bloodthirsty girl. I don’t recognize myself. Then again, I don’t recognize anything now that Margot is gone.

  Resnikov takes another step back. “I knew it was you, you know,” he says. Behind him, the row of mourners is like a solid black canvas. “I knew all along.”

  The kiss. He’s talking about the kiss.

  When Jared and Ali and I crossed the world to free Margot from Resnikov’s base, I ran into him. To save my cover, I played my twin sister. But Resn
ikov surprised me by kissing me. I’d thought it strange at the time. Now, with his confession, I find it even stranger.

  “Why did you do it, then?”

  He rubs a hand across his chest as though it hurts. “To make Margot jealous. I wanted her to escape. But not without telling her that I loved her.”

  It’s such an unexpected answer; it catches me off guard. I tip over, hiccupping a sob. Jared’s nails have grown to daggers, so it’s harder for him to catch me as my knees begin to buckle. He retracts his claws with a ferocious, ear-splitting yelp, loud enough to wake the dead. I barely notice the small mob of mourners drawing back in alarm.

  I have wits enough still to understand what the madman before me is saying. He knew Margot was watching. Knew that it was me, not her, who he kissed those many months ago. He really did want my sister to escape. And as the realization sinks in, I feel like another burden has been lifted from me.

  Margot was loved.

  I don’t know why it’s important. She’s dead now, and the dead feel no pain. But it hurt me somewhere I didn’t even know to think that my twin could have lived and died without feeling loved, deeply loved, by someone other than me. I wanted Margot to fall in love, to get married, to have a family. I reckon I wanted her happiness even more than my own. That she was loved, even by this madman…it’s not enough, but it’s something to ease the pain.

  Two of Jared’s claws have hooked into the tender flesh of my arm. The skin isn’t broken yet, but I read the panic in his eyes as he realizes he’s hurting me. “I’m all right. I’m okay, Jared,” I tell him, even as I hold on to his broad shoulders for strength. His nose quivers as though trying to smell a lie. I reckon he finds none, because the tips of the claws slowly retract, human fingers regaining their form.

  When I look back over my shoulder, Resnikov is still there, facing Margot’s grave with a wild look. I watch his lips move, though no sound comes out. I’m sorry, krasavitsa. He calls her his beautiful girl. And then his lean, tall body melts back into the crowd like a ghost.

  “Jared.” The word is hardly more than a whisper. But I know he hears me. “Take me away from here.”

  Jared cocks his head. The bones along his nose have flattened, so that he looks both younger and deadlier. He pulls me close, his voice scraping against the soft flesh of my ear. “You’d regret it, Lu. Think about it.”

  I blink back another river of tears. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You can.” He presses his face into my hair. “You need to say goodbye to her.”

  I breathe against Jared’s solid chest for a good solid minute, just listening to the tick of his heart, steady and sure with the rise and fall of his chest. There are birds singing somewhere amid the branches of the tree. And there’s the sound of the wind, the ever-present wind, whipping around the gravestones and singeing the air with cold.

  My eyes have nearly cleared when I see Storm’s spectral bones rising over a crest. He hurries toward us with a powerful stride, and I catch that glimmer once more, that strange illusion, as though all the air around Nolan Storm has turned into something liquid, malleable, splitting the world in two. A thunderous look is stamped across his bluntly handsome features, his long fingers curled into fists. Storm’s head swivels slightly, and the heavy rack of bone around his head tilts left before straightening. Nolan Storm looks as though he’s ready to rampage.

  Something is wrong.

  Mourners scatter out of his way as he strides past the open grave toward us. “Lucy, Jared,” he calls, and the air shakes. “Don’t move.”

  My attention snags on a little red dot that inches up Jared’s chest, little by little, until it rests over his heart. Looking behind me, I see a similar pattern splayed on my back. Then I spy the black-clad body on the top of a marble mausoleum about two hundred feet away, lying before a long gun. I glance back up at Jared. From the expression on his face and his sudden stillness, I reckon he’s seen it, too.

  Sniper.

  …

  Past Jared’s shoulder, behind Storm, more bodies in black gather. But these aren’t mourners. The insignia of Dominion appears on batter shields, splays across each bulletproof vest and helmet. Heavy guns hold steady to squinted eyes.

  And before them all, standing at the front of the small army dressed in full military gear, is Theodore Nash.

  We’re under siege.

  24

  “Do not move.” Storm raises an arm and points at us. I dare not breathe. The muscles in my belly pull taut as I stare helplessly at the glaringly red bull’s-eye painted on Jared’s white shirt.

  They’ll likely shoot if I move. And if I throw myself on Jared to protect him, it’s more as like the bullets will pass through us both. If there’s one thing I’ve learned to appreciate through my childhood in the Upper Circle, it’s the strength of Dominion’s elite firepower.

  My jaw clenches like a trap. “J-Jared.”

  “Don’t worry, Lu. Everything’s going to be all right. We’ve got this.” His tone is soothing, but I can see the wild take over his eyes.

  “Liar.” I crack a laugh. And watch in wonder as one half of his lips curls up in a smile, exposing a perfect dimple.

  “Have I ever let you down before, Princess?”

  “Repeatedly.”

  Jared frowns. “How so?”

  But then the bulk of Storm’s body coming into our orbit with the strength of a hurricane interrupts us. In seconds, he’s inserted himself between the sniper’s assault rifle and us. I turn, not wanting to keep my back to the gunman. The red bull’s-eye travels north to rest between Storm’s eyes.

  “What’s happening?” Jared murmurs to Storm.

  “Our buddy Nash seems to be staging a coup of some sort. And here I didn’t think he was smart enough.”

  “That will teach you to underestimate the cockroaches of this world.”

  I shake my head, throwing my gaze between them. “He’ll not last long. He’s dying.”

  Jared tosses his hair. “Again?”

  “I want you to take Lucy and head to safe house one. If one is compromised, go straight to three.”

  “Got it.”

  “What? No!” I cry.

  But the men ignore me. “Wait until my signal,” Storm tells Jared.

  “Wait, Storm—what are you going to do?”

  He smiles at me then, and the blood curdles in my veins. “I’m going to negotiate.”

  Storm turns his back on the sniper, as if the threat is no more than a mosquito, so he faces the rapidly advancing Nash and his men head-on. I lose count at thirty in full riot squad gear, but there is at least a handful more.

  Storm lazily stuffs his hands in his trouser pockets. “Here to pay your respects, Nash?”

  Nash is close enough now that I can see the sweat beading on his forehead. Though he must be hot in his flak vest, I can tell he’s not well. His face is flushed with fever. I reckon it won’t be long before the full symptoms make their appearance once more.

  “True Borns are now illegal in Dominion. I’m here to arrest you.”

  I didn’t think Storm’s smile could get more terrifying. I was wrong. “Since when have True Borns become illegal? Illegal in what sense?”

  “You’re not human. The government of Dominion believes that the True Borns pose a significant threat to the safety and well-being of the human population.”

  “How so?” Storm crosses his arms, clearly amused. “Just because I’m going to kill you?”

  If Nash is scared, as well he should be, he blusters through convincingly. “We have good reason to suspect that the True Borns caused the Plague. Therefore we must eradicate the threat to public safety.”

  Storm tips back his head and laughs. “That’s a remarkable stretch even for you, Nash,” he drawls in a dangerously low voice.

  “We have scientific evidence to back us up.”

  “Do you? And just what kind of evidence is that?” The air vibrates with the power of Storm’s words.
>
  “An informant has stepped forward. Someone who has shared with the government the true origins of the True Born Talisman mutations. We know what you are.”

  “And what are we, Nash?”

  “Abominations,” he spits.

  “And just who is this mythical informant? Why should anyone believe you?”

  Nash nods to one of the soldiers. “Bring the prisoner,” he commands. The lines part, offering a startling glimpse of platinum hair and milky eyes. Two soldiers stand on either side of her cuffed hands. One stands behind, gun trained to her back. Although a line of thick red tape covers her mouth, her eyes remain uncovered.

  They don’t know, I realize. They haven’t covered her eyes because they don’t think she can see anything. They don’t know that she can see whatever is in our veins. She’ll not see the gun behind or beside her, but Serena could track us through walls.

  Storm doesn’t so much as blink. “Yes,” he drawls, as though we’re having a casual conversation. “I can see you’ve been well informed. What interesting tales Serena must have for you with her mouth all glued up.”

  Nash rolls his eyes and motions to one of the flanking soldiers. He rips off the tape covering Serena’s mouth. “Son of a bitch,” she swears as the tape rips from her skin. Red welts instantly appear on her face. But other than that, Serena seems intact.

  “Tell them.” Nash points at us, his focus trained on the Salvager.

  Serena shrugs, her cuffed hands jangling. One corner of her shirt slips down over her shoulder, exposing a pale, slender shoulder blade. “It was my duty to tell them. I have a responsibility to the citizens of Dominion.” Jared and I lock eyes. What is she talking about? He shakes his head, almost unnoticeably, and we turn back to stare at the icy figure before us. “More important, I have a duty toward my people, the Horned One’s followers.”

  My head buzzes, and I feel faint. She’s one of Ali’s people? But didn’t Ali say they’d do whatever it took to keep us safe? I can’t work through the terrible and twisted logic. And in any case, there’s no time.