Blood. Red was everywhere. One Michael clutched futilely at the hole in his neck, blood bubbling and gurgling between his fingers. A soggy puddle of crimson spread beneath his body. His legs twitched, his eyes wide, begging. Slowly, slowly, life leaked out of him.
What the
—
Xavier looked up. Cat was backing away from One Michael. Tears streamed down her face and her whole body shook, but no part more than the hand that held the steak knife. A high wail escaped her lips, and the chattering of her teeth shredded the sound.
“Cat.” Xavier stretched for her. Her legs gave out. She sank to the floor, the knife tumbling from her fingers to land point up in the carpet. He remembered, all too clearly, what it felt like to kill someone. To
stab
someone—because that’s how Nora had made him do it. That dirty, guilty, awful feeling of a life disappearing in your hands. He’d thought he’d shed it years ago, but the feeling surged back as he reached for Cat.
Two Michael had somehow gotten up. He grabbed Xavier’s legs from behind, pitching Xavier forward. Not expected, not expected at all. He’d made bad assumptions, underestimated his opponent.
Xavier used the momentum from the rear attack, tucking and rolling. He clasped his legs around Two Michael and threw him over his body like a doll. Two Michael landed hard next to his dying double. Xavier fell on top of Two Michael and
flipped him over. Wrenching his arms behind his back, Xavier pressed one knee into the center of his spine. Two Michael’s face was three inches away from his bleeding and dying look-alike, his lips smashed into the wet carpet.
“Fucking cocksucker.”
The insult came out in bubbles of blood.
“What’s it like”—Xavier got so close to Two Michael’s face the stench of the blood nearly overwhelmed him—“to watch yourself die?”
And just like that, life left One Michael. The twitching ceased, the horrible gargling in his throat stopped. His eyes remained open, however, staring right into his double’s terror-stricken face.
“What does that mean?” Xavier leaned hard into Two Michael’s back. “You don’t get to do this again?”
Michael, the alive one, the one in Xavier’s grip, started to convulse. At first Xavier thought it had something to do with the magic. But no. His captive was crying—great, heaving sobs that wracked his remaining living body.
Xavier didn’t give a shit about Michael anymore. He lifted his head and found Cat. She sat on her butt, legs sprawled messily in front of her, shock making her body loose. Her vacant eyes stared at the bloody knife. Splatters of red covered her hands and forearms.
“I killed him,” she whispered.
“Part of him, yes.” Xavier longed to go to her, but he didn’t dare release Michael, not knowing what he could still do. What could happen.
She brought her wet, red fingers in front of her face, gazing at them like they weren’t attached to her body. “I just wanted him off you. I didn’t want him to hurt you. I just wanted him off…”
“Cat, it’s okay.” He knew he should keep talking to her, keep her present. “We’ll get out of here. I’ll fix this. We’ll figure something out…”
Pounding footsteps thundered down the hall, off tempo from the pulsing music. “Michael! Xavier’s gone! It’s Shelby in the bed.”
Oh shit.
Jase careened into Michael’s bedroom, immediately saw the bloody mess, and froze. “Christ Almighty.”
Xavier had forgotten all about the glamour on Shelby. He must have lost control of it the moment he’d attacked Michael, and Jase must have peeked in on who he assumed was still Xavier in the bed. Or he’d tried to put the neutralizer back on Shelby’s arm and the touch had dissolved the illusion.
Xavier lunged across Michael’s sniveling, spasming body and snatched the knife from the carpet. He pressed the tip to the soft place just below Michael’s ear. “Use your air,” he snarled, “and Michael’s gone. Both of them.”
Jase looked to a shivering, bloodied Cat, then to the dead Michael, then back to Cat. “Christ Almighty,” he murmured again. “You did that?”
Beneath Xavier’s hands, Michael’s substance shifted. Xavier didn’t know of any other way to describe it. One moment Michael’s body was corporeal, heavy and hot from exertion and pain and anguish, the next moment it turned to thick air. Pillow like, as though if Xavier pressed down, Michael might pop. Xavier scrambled back as Michael’s image started to wink, flickering like a TV set on its last day before the landfill.
Michael stretched a fading hand toward the dead body that was also beginning to pale. Then, simultaneously, the two Michaels drew toward one another, the bodies sucking together. Their images shuddered and joined, becoming one again over the sticky, bloody mess.
The whole Michael flopped onto his back, the saturated red carpet making awful slurping sounds under his body. He sounded like he was choking, suffocating, mixing the death of his other half with the life he still clung to. Then his arms went flaccid. His eyes rolled around in their sockets. A long, agonizing moan leaked from his now singular throat.
He wasn’t dead yet and Xavier wasn’t taking any chances. Xavier grabbed Michael under the arms and pulled him toward the giant bed, careful to keep the knife in a threatening position. “The rope, Cat. The one that held you. Bring it to me.”
Xavier got Michael to the bed with no resistance. Michael was dead weight—alive, but just barely. Xavier propped him
up against one of the massive bed legs and held his arm out for the rope. The rough length slapped into his palm.
“Thanks.” He looked up. Cat hadn’t moved from where she was still sprawled on the floor ten feet away.
Jase stood over Xavier, holding on to one end of the rope.
“What are you doing?” Xavier breathed.
Jase glanced fearfully at the door and dropped his voice. “Michael’s not who you have to worry about.”
Xavier could only kneel there, watching in shock, as Jase crept to the bedroom door. He peered into the hall, then ducked back in and shut the door behind him. The music dulled.
Jase ran a hand through his curly hair. Gone was the cool, devoted henchman who’d so easily thrown Xavier on his ass several times. Jase pointed to Michael. “I’d still tie him up if I were you.”
Xavier blinked out of his surprise and complied, wrapping Michael’s wrists and then securing his torso to the thick leg of the bed. It didn’t really matter, though. Michael Ebrecht, as he lived just minutes ago, was gone. His torso leaned awkwardly, the rope the only thing holding him up. His head, bruised and battered from Xavier’s fists, lolled backward. His eyes jerked back and forth in their sockets, sometimes not even in the same direction.
Xavier leaned down, got right in vegetable Michael’s face. “You’re not even half a man, Michael. You never were.”
A familiar hand touched Xavier’s back. The pressure of Cat’s fingers felt cold and wet, and he realized it was because the back of his white shirt was completely soaked with Michael’s blood. So were the ends of his hair, and when Xavier moved his head he could smell the sharp, acrid tang of that prick’s life all over him. Cat had shoved aside most of her fear, or at least she was giving it a valiant attempt, and for that, Xavier couldn’t help but love her.
As Jase moved closer, Xavier pulled Cat behind him. Jase raised his palms as if in surrender. “It doesn’t matter if Michael’s dead or alive. This is all Lea. She was using Michael like he thought he was using her, only he never had a chance.”
Xavier wanted desperately to believe Jase, but he’d been double-crossed twice already. “Why? What does she want?”
“Revenge on her people,” Cat said at Xavier’s elbow, “because they exiled her for loving a Primary. She’s Gwen’s sister.”
Xavier sucked in a breath. Gwen had never told him about any sister, but then, he hadn’t been that close to her.
“‘
Hell hath no fury
,’” Jase said, wiping at the back of his neck. Sweat dotted his forehead under the shaggy curls.
“Why are you here?” Xavier snapped. “Why are you standing here talking to us like you want to help us?”
Jase licked his lips and threw another wary glance at the closed door. “Because you were right. What you said earlier, about having to do this for someone I love.”
Cat came out from behind Xavier. So trusting. She always had been. “What do you mean?”
Jase shook his head. “This is my chance, dude. The first chance I’ve had to escape in years. Lea’s in the game room with the music turned up so she wouldn’t hear what you were doing, Xavier. Shelby’s unconscious. Robert will be locked in the basement. Sean’s probably in the garage with the fire elemental. Michael’s out of the picture. You two are up here, and I want to be on your side.”
Xavier ground fingers into his forehead. “Fire elemental?” That explained the rumbling and the smoke smell.
“In the garage. Scary as shit. Taking her was completely against Lea’s MO. I have no idea why Lea wanted her. It definitely wasn’t just so Michael could try to impress his dead dad. She’s got a plan.”
“What about Sean?” Xavier asked. “Who’s side is he on?”
Jase kicked at Michael’s foot. “Michael’s. Forever and ever. We can’t rely on him. And Lea’s got connections everywhere. Her phone is always on. One text, one call, and so many of us are done. The people we love, done.”
“Except for me,” Xavier said. “She’s got shit on me, I have nothing to lose, and I want this
over
.”
A fierce determination sparked in Jase’s pale blue eyes. He squared his shoulders, tipped that imaginary cowboy hat again. “So what’s the plan? You had to have had one, genius, to have broken out.”
“It didn’t go past getting Michael away from Cat.”
Cat looked down at her captor. “He lives in the Primary world. We need to do something about that.”
Jase ran a thumb over his bottom lip. “So we need time. Make him seem like he’s gone missing.” He snapped his fingers. “The rental car. I’ll return it to the local airport. I’ll tell Lea I’m picking up Michael’s double in town. Then you two go after Lea and Sean, and I’ll meet you back here.”
Xavier didn’t like that at all. “You can’t help us now?”
Jase’s lips tightened, his voice hardened. “Do you understand what I’m risking? You think if I’d been able to take them down by now, I wouldn’t have?”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Xavier asked.
An emotional pain curtained Jase’s eyes. “You don’t. No one’s trusted me for decades. I haven’t done a single thing on my own, for any sort of good, in God knows how long. And I want to now, more than anything.”
Xavier looked down at Cat and wove his fingers into hers.
“But,” Jase added, “if you two don’t succeed, I have to make like you got the best of me. If Lea wins, I’m saving myself and what I left back home. There’s too much at stake.”
“I understand.” And Xavier did. If Cat’s life was put on the line again, there’s no telling what lies he would say or what he would do. Who he’d betray.
Another tip of the invisible cowboy hat. “See you on the other side.”
Then he was gone.
Cat and Xavier looked at each other. The other side of what?
Michael was half-dead.
Raymond Ebrecht had never given him a “don’t do drugs” talk, because the elder had been a bit of a cokehead and he hadn’t even been able to dig up a “do as I say, not as I do” speech. Raymond hadn’t taught Michael to drive, or tossed baseballs with him in the front yard, or lectured him about safe sex. He’d never smacked him upside the head for a grade below a C. Hell, he’d never even asked to see a report card.
Michael had never been anything more than a tumor to Raymond. A reminder of the first woman who’d left him—arguably the only woman he’d ever loved. A hated leftover from a failed relationship and a weight around his ankle.
And, when he’d discovered that Michael had inherited the family Splitter gene, his competition.
The day Raymond had found a pubescent Michael shivering and delirious after his first
split
, he’d hauled the frightened, trembling boy up by his shirt and shoved him against the wall, snarling.
Guess you really are my son. So now you know that you’re better than everyone else out there. But you’re still not better than me. Got it?
Yes, sir.
Good.
All these years, Michael had clung to those words like food or water.
He hadn’t ever told anyone he could
split
until he found Sean, who could do the same. But then came Lea…and now that motherfucking townie knew. And Cat.
Who’d killed him.
Raymond had had a Primary-style heart attack. Michael had brought him back, kept him breathing, and the asshole still hadn’t had the courtesy to open his eyes and admit that Michael really
was
better than him.
Splitting
had given Michael a better life than his father’s, and now the magic had taken that life away. Because even though Michael’s heart still beat and he could still see and hear, he was no longer Michael Ebrecht. He was now no better than fucking Raymond. Dead but still alive. Breathing, but lifeless.
He’d watched himself die. When it had happened, he hadn’t felt the double’s pain or experienced the other’s panic. Until the reabsorption.
Usually combining halves brought him a surge of information and ideas, a wave of conversations, emotions, and decisions. It had always been an additive experience. Not so when one half died.
It had been the longest second of Michael’s life, sucking back in his dead half. All the agony and terror the double had gone through ripped through his skin and shredded his organs. Death had slashed his mind to shreds and left it dangling in tatters. He had a dead person inside him.
The dead part wanted to cross over into that foggy atmosphere that permanently lingered on the outskirts of his
awareness. The alive part wanted to destroy Xavier…and to make Cat watch.
The bitch had killed him. After all he’d done for her.
He tried to scream, but the dead half wouldn’t let him speak. Now he’d never get the chance to show Raymond the new race he’d created. Even in death, Dad won.