A tall man with a body like a brick is standing in front of me. I catch his eyes. He’s not a demon. He’s some sort of goon, the kind of guy you see standing out in front of clubs.
“What the hell?” I say, lowering my pole. I’m super aware of the fact that I’m wanted as a terrorist, so if I can get out of this situation with minimal conflict and attention drawn to me, all the better. “Why did you do that?” I ask him. No one should be able to sneak up on me like that and push me with such strength, not when I was already on high alert. My face burns with both annoyance and embarrassment.
“Sorry, Jasmine,” a voice says from behind the goon.
My blood turns to ice. I know that voice. In fact, I know it well. Too well.
Sandra Smith steps out from behind the man. She’s slender and petite enough that his body provided her with full coverage.
“I know you’ve been taught to notice any moment of weakness, any chink in an opponent’s armour. It was fleeting, but for a moment you weren’t fully present. You were lost in your thoughts. Not the best move,” she says with a smirk.
I open my mouth and promptly close it again. Raphael. That’s what, or more precisely, who I was thinking about. I was wondering where he was and if I’d ever see him again. And, if I’m truthful, I do want to see him. I was imagining it — only for a few seconds, but that was enough time for Smith’s goon to attack me.
“How are you even here?” I ask, glancing around. Out of the corner of my eye, something darts from the railway tracks at the end of street. My shoulders tense. It’s likely just a stray dog or fox, something like that. But it could be a demon. They must know I’m here. “And how did you know where to find me?”
“Why are you out here?” Smith asks, throwing my question back at me. “And of course I’ve kept track of you. After all, you’re my special helper. How did I do it? Sadly, Jasmine, more than one person whom you’ve trusted is willing to betray you when the price and/or conditions are right.”
I know she wants to get a reaction from me. But even if what she’s saying is true, and someone close to me has given away my whereabouts, I’m not about to give Smith the satisfaction of upsetting me. I glance at the goon. He’s watching me intently, his face devoid of emotion. My eyes slide to his waist. Beneath the thin blazer he’s wearing, I detect the outline of a gun. This is serious. I’m going to have to be cautious. Smith is like a wild animal, ready to strike. I know her well enough to realize I’m in huge danger.
“You see, things aren’t quite as we’ve been made to believe,” Smith says.
“What do you mean, made to believe?” I ask, gripping my pole tighter.
“Listen, I’ll make this quick. The world simply can’t heal with so many people using her resources. There’s not nearly enough to go around. Overpopulation got us human beings into this mess in the first place.”
“Well, I’d say human greed and the desire for power had a lot do with it, too,” I say. “You’re an environmental scientist. You know that.” It’s a dig. She’s the most power-hungry person I know.
“But all of this is really quite meaningless now, isn’t it?” Smith asks. “And I’d hazard to say that at this point in my life, I’m more of a politician, a strategist, than a scientist.”
I frown. Where is she going with this? “Besides,” I say, “billions of people have died in the last few years because of climate change, and now with the water poisonings, there will be many more. The population is actually declining. Rapidly.”
“And that’s really not a bad thing,” Smith interjects, “it’s too little, too late, but …”
“What the hell?” I snap. “Have you lost your mind? What do you mean it’s not a bad thing? You’re talking about the deaths of millions — if not billions.”
The goon uncrosses his arms, and I notice one of his shovel-like hands sliding slowly toward his waist. I need to tone it down.
Smith springs forward and grabs me by the elbow. Hard. “Hear me out. We want what’s best for the human race and for our planet. With a greatly reduced population, the world will heal. The type of poison being used is quick and painless — people are not suffering. Think it about it, Jasmine. With the technologies that are out there shared between just a million people at most — the best and the brightest — and an emphasis on improving AI and carefully planned future procreation, suffering will be drastically reduced, if not eliminated.”
I pull away from her as much as I can without risking the goon taking me out. “What you’re suggesting is mass murder. On a crazy scale.” I stop. “You’re behind the water poisonings in Toronto, aren’t you?”
Smith nods. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? Of course, I didn’t act alone. It’s well-coordinated, Jasmine. Do you think what’s happening here in the UK, and with the rest of the world’s water supply, is just a coincidence? More cities and countries will follow in close succession. Within days and weeks. And who do you think hacked all the banking, transit, and security systems? A select group have held the world’s resources and power for quite some time now. I mean, think about it: air space is closed, yet I was able to fly here in my private jet. You could have the same privileges.”
Adrenaline and anger surge through my body with the intensity of an electrical charge. I need to get a hold of my emotions. I’ve got to be drawing any demons throughout the city toward me like moths to a flame right now. “This ‘plan’ is evil. Those who will survive aren’t the ‘best and brightest.’ It’s just those who control the power and wealth in the world. Like you. It’s the same bullshit that’s always existed.”
“None of us — not one human — is going to survive if something drastic is not done, because the Earth won’t survive unless extreme measures are taken immediately. This should’ve been done years and years ago. You may not remember when Pakistan became uninhabitable, but I do. It was 2020, too hot to even step outside for weeks on end. Even the camels couldn’t survive. Basically, they were slowly baked alive. You’re right that most of those who are in on this are a part of the elites. But you’re not part of the privileged class in any way, are you? And neither is your mother or your sister. I think you’re just being too stubborn and narrow-minded about the benefits of this plan. About what you and your family could gain. Privilege. Power.” She stops speaking and cocks her head at me, her metallic silver hair glinting out at me. This is a well-orchestrated game she’s playing. “By the way, how is your mother, Jasmine? Do you have any idea if she’s okay?”
Her words cut at my heart like a knife. I grasp my pole so hard, it feels like my knuckles might burst out from my skin. She’s baiting me and I’m not going to fall for it.
“No,” I reply through gritted teeth. “But you knew that.”
“There’s a car waiting for us near St Paul’s Cathedral,” Smith says matter-of-factly, ignoring my reply. “We will be taken to safety to wait this all out. But we need to go now.”
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s wrong. It’s a sick plan.”
Smith shrugs and pretends to examine one of her perfectly manicured nails. “I was hoping you’d see it my way, as your mother is with us in Toronto and really needs you to agree to all of this. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee her safety. And as for you … now you know way too much, Jasmine. Just like Ms. Samson …”
“It was Ms. Samson you wanted all along, wasn’t it?” I ask, spitting the words out like venom. “You weren’t really after Eva at all.”
Smith laughs. “Yes, that woman was powerful. She was full of such light and such good. A talisman, actually. The Darkness couldn’t fully emerge while she was alive. The little Cuban mutt? It would’ve been a bonus if I’d been able to put her down, but it was easy to give her up in exchange for Samson.”
“Well, this Cuban perra is an ancestral daughter of Che and Marti and the great-great-granddaughter of Antonio Maceo. She’s a poet, a revolutionary, a liberator … and yes, a righteous killer.” Eva’s voice, deep and guttural and
full of both pride and rage, shatters the night air. In her words, there’s a ferocity I’ve never heard from her before.
I swivel my head around at the same time Smith and her goon do. Eva is standing, pole ready, on top of two large garbage receptacles, one foot on each. She raises her chin defiantly at Smith, the soft light from a streetlamp catching her scars. I’m struck by her beauty. “You thought you could bury us, but you didn’t realize we were seeds,” she exclaims, punching the air with her pole.
Smith laughs. “Jasmine, this girl is mad. She’s right about one thing and only one thing: she’s a bona fide killer. She didn’t seem to care when she transitioned out of that cell that she was knowingly condemning your precious Ms. Samson to a terrible fate. Come with us. We need people like you to help rebuild our world. There’s a car waiting for us a few streets over. Everything is arranged. And you need to think of your mother. Like I said, she’s with us in Toronto. We’ve put her up in a hotel where she has everything she needs, including a reliable water supply, and she is safe. What security does she have if you continue to align yourself with this band of misfits? The world is about to descend into chaos. We have bunkers ready to see this out.”
I shake my head. “No. What you’re doing is wrong. Beyond wrong. Worse than Hitler wrong.”
Smith shakes her head sadly. “Your resistance defies logic, Jasmine. A population of only a few hundred thousand will ensure that the Earth’s remaining resources are protected. Think of the animals, the birds, the insects that will be saved by our reducing the destruction that overpopulation has wrought. We’ll be able to fully implement environmental technologies to support the regeneration of our planet.”
“She doesn’t have your mom, Jazz. Don’t believe her,” Eva interjects. “And it’s mass murder. No one who wants to be on the right side of history would consider your loco plan, lady.”
Smith’s head snaps up to stare at Eva.
“Who really killed your sister, Eva? Who took the last breath from her lips?” Smith asks, hands on her hips, a sly smile dancing across her face.
For a moment, Eva visibly wavers from her position on the garbage bins and comes dangerously close to losing her balance. Smith’s obviously hit a nerve.
“I suppose there’s no harm in letting you both in on my little secret,” Smith says, turning her attention back to me for a moment. “And I’m sure you’re wondering how I know you decapitated your own sister,” she says, her eyes glued on Eva again with hawk-like intensity.
“She was suffering,” Eva interjects. It’s evident she’s trying to keep it together as much as possible, but her voice is beginning to waver. Badly. “Those singaos left her severely wounded. She’d lost so much blood. I had no access to medical attention, to painkillers.… She asked me to do it. I couldn’t just let her suffer so much.”
“But it was you who decided her fate, wasn’t it? You’ve always wondered if she might have lived, if you’d just tried. It took me, a former Seer, to read your mind and know this, to know about your murderous past. Your sister, a young father doing his job serving and protecting, the list goes on.… But where will it end?”
My blood runs cold. Smith, a Seer?
“I thought Seers lost their powers once they became adults,” I interrupt, trying to maintain my composure. I don’t want her to see my surprise.
“There are always outliers, Jasmine. Outliers like me,” Smith says. “My power is quite weak compared to yours, but Eva’s thoughts about her sister are so powerful, so dark … it’s virtually impossible not to hear them. She’s practically certifiable.” Smith looks at Eva again. “Aren’t you, darling?”
Before I can blink, Eva lunges at Smith. A moment later, her pole slams down onto Smith’s shoulder.
“Eva! No!” I shout as Smith’s goon reaches under his jacket. His thick fingers are on the trigger before she even has time to turn.
The shot slices through Eva’s free hand like it’s butter. She screams, but manages to hold on to her pole with her good hand. In a moment, and before he can fire another round, she’s on him like a wild animal. She hacks at his thick neck; his bones crunch under the force of her blows. Sweat rolls down the side of her face, mixing with the tears that are spilling from her eyes, both causing wet strands of her hair to stick to her skin. She’s thinking of her sister, and the pain is tearing her soul apart.
Through my shock, Vashti’s words flood my mind. War. This is war. Though I’m not even sure what the sides are any longer, especially after finding out Smith is one of us — or was one of us. She doesn’t seem to be anyone’s Protector, though. One thing I know for certain is that if I don’t act fast, I’m about to die. So is Eva. There’s no way Smith will let us out of here alive after telling us everything she did.
The goon falls to the ground with a sickening thud and Eva turns back toward Smith, who is slouched over, clutching her injured shoulder.
“Go, Jazz!” Eva shouts at me as she strides toward Smith, her face a mask of determination. “Get back to the house and get the other Seers out of there!”
For a moment I’m frozen, feeling the damp night air pressing against my skin as I watch Eva raise her pole to shoulder height, ready to strike Smith again.
“Move your ass, chica!” Eva screams at me. “I don’t want you to see this.”
As her pole connects with the side of Smith’s head, a shot rings out. Eva stumbles backward, arms outstretched and eyes wide with surprise. Her mouth opens and closes silently as a red stain blossoms across her chest.
I jerk my head around. Two men are emerging from a side street adjacent to us. Their guns are drawn and they look a lot like Smith’s other goon. We should’ve known more of her entourage would come looking for her after a set amount of time.
A second shot shatters the night air, and that’s when I turn and run in the opposite direction, away from Eva and toward the train tracks, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest.
I don’t look back and I don’t stop running for at least fifteen minutes. A part of me imagines I can outrun the image of Eva being shot, of the pain on her face and the expression that told me she knew she’d been mortally wounded. Eventually, I begin coughing uncontrollably and slow down to a walk. The smoke from the fires around the city is making it unbearable to breathe the already polluted London air. My lungs burn as though I’ve been drinking acid.
As I sit for a moment on a concrete barrier dividing the roadway from the sidewalk, a muffled cry reaches my ears. Mithra. I’d almost forgotten about her. My hands shake as I reach into the satchel.
She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide.
I reach in again and lightly stroke her head. “This is it, Mithra,” I whisper. “The Final Battle is just beginning, and I’ve already lost one of my best friends. And she was the best Seer I’ve ever known. Eva should’ve been chosen, not me. She was a true warrior.”
“Get up, Jazz.”
My head snaps up, and I quickly return Mithra to the bag.
Raphael is standing over me, his black hair hanging in front of his face as he extends a hand to me. “You need to recover from this. There was nothing else you could’ve done. If you hadn’t left Eva, Smith’s men would’ve killed both of you. And Eva doesn’t have her twin; she knew that would be an impediment during the Final Battle, so she made the ultimate sacrifice. Did she know Smith would be waiting for you tonight? No. But she followed you out this evening to keep you safe, to watch over you. We’ve kept a close eye on her ever since she killed those men on the ship. Seers who kill humans for vengeance tend to go mad. Rogue. Like Mr. Khan’s sister. Like Smith. So, it was only natural that a Seer who’d had to watch her sister be tortured and then …” He pauses, his dark eyes sad. “But we needn’t have worried. Eva was more like Mina; she was able to overcome her sister’s death and be completely selfless. In fact, after her sister’s death, Eva seemed more committed than ever to saving others. Like those at the camp.”
I take Raphael’s hand and
he pulls me to standing. My legs feel shaky, almost jelly-like, and my head spins.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “It’s too much. Both Mina and Eva gave up their lives for me. It’s crazy. I don’t want to be chosen or anything like that. Pick someone else. Eva should’ve been the Chosen One.”
Raphael smiles. “Yeah, if I’d had a say in it, she’d likely have been my first choice as well.”
Tears slip down my cheeks. I don’t even know if it’s because of Eva, or exhaustion, or just losing so many people in the last two years.
“Jazz, I was only kidding,” he says, pulling me close to him.
My heart begins to beat loudly, so loudly I’m afraid he’ll hear it.
“What you need to remember is that this is all just a game. There’s an endpoint. Remember that. All you have to do is get to the finish line.”
I breathe in deeply. That tingly electric feeling is back. He smells of the sea and saltwater. And home. Of our apartment at 1 Oak.
I need to get my head out of my bum. This is not the time to be daydreaming about a crush. What an idiot I am.
“How can you say this is a game? My friend was just murdered.” I don’t tell him that, for a brief moment, I actually contemplated joining Smith. The fear of Mom being hurt, but also, the temptation of guaranteed privilege, of guaranteed survival, almost trumped everything for me — including my morality.
Raphael releases me, turns me around so that I’m facing him, and then gently holds me by my upper arms. He gazes into my eyes. “I am telling you this because I fear for your sanity. Tomorrow you must remember what I just told you. It’s a game, and you need to make your moves in a rational manner. Each move counts. In order to destroy the Darkness, you will need an angel’s sword. That means that, no matter what, when the time is right, you must take the sword. The others will help fight both the demons and the Archons … and any other obstacles that may stand in the way. But they can’t do anything about the Darkness. If you keep your eye on what needs to be done — eliminating the Darkness — then all will be well. You are the only one who can destroy the Darkness.”
Darkness Rising Page 20
