“Get them out of here,” he said to Oliver in a guttural voice. “I don’t know how long I can hold this back.”
The other man didn’t hesitate. While Taye gave chase, he went to work hustling the women out of the combat zone. It was an equal-opportunity decision; if any of them had been able to kill, they’d have done so already. Therefore, they needed to be out of harm’s way.
His right arm burned from the combination of raging power and the gunshot wound; the feeling swelled like a rain-flooded river. In the dark, enemy radios crackled, but before they could call for help, he exploded them. Showers of sparks rose up, orange embers drifting on the night wind. They turned to run then. No weapons, no way to call for help, and the rest of the mercs on the other side of the warehouse.
Even Mother Nature worked against them. Their boots slipped on the frozen ground, and Taye flung himself after them. He
used
the ice, skidding onto his knees, arms upraised. Gillie was safe. There was nothing to hold him back anymore. Ball lightning exploded from his whole body and it caught the mercs before they got out of the blast radius. Equipment caught fire behind him, and he heard the groan of warping metal. The back door flew off its hinges and came banging toward him. He damped the magnetism and dove low, so that it struck the burning men like a giant battering ram.
That eased some of the pain, but Taye felt the damage settle deeper inside him. Now it felt like dark tendrils, gnawing their way through him. He stumbled to his feet, fingertips smoking, and holding on to the building, he staggered around the other side. Hawk fought alongside a couple more subjects. His eyes wouldn’t focus, so he couldn’t track the exchange too well. He leaned against the wall, trying to gather a little strength, and then, confident Hawk had it under control, he went to supervise the extraction of the remaining victims.
CHAPTER 16
Gillie rode a
bike for the first time in over ten years on snowy sidewalks, and that sense of freedom felt exactly the same. Sure, there was some risk, some wobbling, and some sheer exhilarating terror. But it was all hers. She wore her winter coat, along with hat and gloves; people stared at her strangely from the steamy windows of their cars, but the apartment wasn’t that far from campus. And those few miles flew by, despite the cold.
I’m not Gillie now. I’m Grace. Or Cardinal, depending on who’s asking.
It wasn’t normal to have so many names, but she wasn’t looking for that anyway. She just wanted to live. This qualified.
She found the Rhatigan Student Center without too much trouble, and they directed her to the room on the first floor where she could get a photo ID. Her hands shook a little while she waited in line behind other students. Normal people. She kept expecting someone to call her out as an impostor, but the pointing finger of shame never materialized.
Eventually, her turn came and she presented her registration paperwork and her fake driver’s license. She stifled a grin while Mrs. Mott typed away on the computer; her lack of personal attention meant she saw nothing wrong—just another student to process. Gillie could hardly contain her giddiness. Everyone else looked so bored . . . and why wouldn’t they be? Standing in lines sucked if you were anyone else. But she’d never stood in one in her life, apart from shopping. It was all so gloriously new. Most likely, the crowds would be worse in the fall. These were midyear transfers or people starting late.
The girl who took her picture looked like she might be a student herself. She was friendlier than the woman at the window. “I need you to take off the hat. Do you want a minute to brush your hair?”
“Yeah, I guess I better.” But she was new at this, so she didn’t have one. Gillie tousled her shorter hair as best she could and smiled for the camera.
To her surprise, it didn’t take long at all to make her Shocker ID card, and she nodded while receiving the spiel about everything on campus it could be used for, including the library and loading money for food or copy machines. Just like that, and she was officially Grace Evans, transfer student from Ohio. She would do her best to fit in, like Tanager wanted, while keeping her eyes and ears open. For what, she didn’t know exactly. Maybe she would learn more if she found something out of the ordinary here, though part of her wondered,
In Kansas? Really?
But doubtless people thought Virginia was totally wholesome, too, and look what had happened there.
“Now don’t lose it,” the girl said, grinning as she handed the card over.
“Thanks.”
And just like that, she became a student.
Gillie tried to acclimate herself to becoming Grace from Ohio. She read a bunch of classics in the evenings, attended classes, bought textbooks, rode her bike eight miles a day, and spent long hours in the library. In the back of her mind, Taye burned like a quiet candle, flickering warmth. But she couldn’t have him right now. First she had to prove to herself—and to everyone else—that she could handle the real world on her own. She looked on this separation as a test, and once she passed—
“I see you here just about every afternoon.” A kid—with his tousled emo hair and his rock T-shirt, she couldn’t think of him any other way—stood beside her table, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
She nodded. “I switched majors. I feel like I have some catching up to do.”
Was that normal? Casual tone, no big deal. But it was, actually. This was the first conversation she’d had with anybody on campus apart from
pass these back.
“Oh?” Uninvited, he took the chair across from her.
She chanced a look around the library; this wasn’t the only vacant table. From all the endless television she’d watched, he had either placed a bet with his frat buddies that he could bang her or he was interested in getting to know her better. Gillie stifled a grin, wondering how many people based their insights into human nature on teen dramas that aired on The WB.
“I was taking business in Ohio, but it’s boring. When I transferred, I decided to try counseling. See if I can help people.”
“That’s cool. I’m majoring in music.”
From the hair and the personal style, she’d surmised as much. “And you play guitar.”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“I like your streaks,” he said.
My . . . oh. Right. I’m a brunette now.
If only she could get used to the contacts.
“Thanks.”
When Gillie checked the clock on the far wall, she saw it was almost time for her next class. “Gotta bounce.” Did people actually say that or was it a TV thing? She felt like such a loser faking this stuff.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me your name.”
Gillie.
“Grace.”
“I’m Brandon.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around.” That sounded suitably disinterested.
Gillie lifted a hand as she shouldered her bag and headed out. Over the next day, she noticed she was more earnest and dedicated than everyone else. The other undergrads milled around campus, met in coffee shops, and made plans to attend parties.
And that was the aspect of college she couldn’t figure out. The classes were pure pleasure—and far easier to fall into the work than worry about socialization. But if she didn’t find a way to break that last barrier, she might as well still be a prisoner with Rowan bringing her books. Sitting in classrooms with other people didn’t make her free.
But she wasn’t going to worry about that today. Not when the sun was out, reflected on the melting snow. She rode her bike home, backpack bulging with books. Tonight she had papers to write and assigned reading. Maybe it was weird, but she liked being graded—tangible reward for work.
But all the normal vanished in the blink of an eye. In her apartment, she found a strange man waiting. He was tall and thin, more than Taye, not as much as Silas. He had coppercast hair and odd, achromatic eyes—a true gray, no color at all. His skin was heavily freckled, no scars or distinguishing marks. She took all that information in a glance, adding that he appeared to carry no weapons. He wasn’t wearing a jacket either.
The silence grew weighty. She tried not to panic. If he was from the Foundation, he wouldn’t be extending a hand for her to shake. But Gillie realized she was wrong belatedly; this wasn’t a handshake. His grip became implacable, but he still didn’t say a word.
Then the world flashed away in a blinding rush. At a carnival, before she was taken, she had once been on a ride that spun you so fast that it operated on the principals of centrifugal force. This motion felt the same, along with the same rising nausea. Just when she felt she couldn’t bear it, the movement stopped, colors clarified, and they were entirely somewhere else.
The room was clearly rigged as an infirmary, and four people lay on cots. Blood and burned flesh scented the air. Her heart froze. Though part of her was still reeling over the way he’d brought her here, she knew he had to work for Mockingbird. She didn’t think she could bear it if Taye was one of the people she had to heal. Gillie studied each of their faces, a cool trickle of relief spilling through her as she catalogued the injuries.
Once she’d finished, a large man with a wild spill of dark hair and colorful tattoos running up his arms stepped into the doorway. After a moment, she recognized him as Silas. He gave a tiny shake of his head.
No names. You don’t know me anymore.
Gillie acknowledged that and waited for her instructions.
“I’m Hawk. These folks are casualties of a raid on the Foundation . . . and we can’t take them to a hospital without risking recapture, but they won’t survive without treatment.”
“Tanager calls me Cardinal. I take it he’s one of yours?” She indicated the thin man.
“That’s Heron. Sorry if he scared you. He doesn’t speak.”
For an instant, she wondered why not, whether it was something that had plagued him since birth or whether he could blame the Foundation. It wasn’t the kind of thing she felt free to ask. Not on first acquaintance.
“So I noticed. Are they all—”
“Test subjects? Yeah. We lost a few. But we saved a whole lot more.”
“I’ll get started.” She examined all four of the injured and then did something she never had before. Triage. Gillie touched them lightly in turn and listened to their wounds; it became immediately clear who needed treatment first. “This guy’s not going to last much longer.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Yeah. Sterilize a knife.” She’d never tried to heal someone who had lost so much blood before. Remembering the scar she’d taken from Tanager’s gunshot wound, she had the feeling this wouldn’t be pretty.
God. I don’t want to do this.
But if she didn’t, he’d die.
Nobody’s making you
. This wasn’t for money. It was just to save the life of a man from whom the Foundation had already stolen everything else. Gillie squared her shoulders and waited for the blade. Hawk handed it to her presently and she sliced the tips of her index fingers and then laid her hands on the bare wound.
Blood to blood.
A chemical hiss sprang from her fingers; he screamed and tried to pull away. God only knew what he thought she was doing to him. Gillie hung on, knowing when her healing kicked in. The rush made the top of her head numb, as if she were losing her own blood and health in the process. She didn’t think she could do four in a row, but she didn’t let herself consider failure.
With Hawk watching over her shoulder, she stood firm until the wound sealed. It aged before her eyes until it was little more than an old scar, and then that vanished as well, her blood drawing the damage as it did disease. Gillie raised her shirt and found a thin line bisecting her abdomen.
Shit. I guess I won’t be wearing a bikini.
As she straightened, a wave of dizziness swept her.
“I could use some orange juice,” she said. “Or cookies or crackers if you have them.”
“Heron?”
The thin man nodded and headed out the door, which he closed behind him. Gillie had the idea they didn’t want her to know the location or anything about how to find this place. Hawk helped her to a crate, where she sank down and put her head between her knees. Her vision showed sparkles of color, first signs of an impending lapse in consciousness.
She regulated her breathing and kept it together until Heron got back. Hawk tried to distract her from the welling nausea, but she lost the thread of his words, trapped in the cotton around her head. With trembling hands, she drank the juice and forced down the sugar cookies. These looked like the ones her mother used to buy in colorful Christmas tins.
“Better?” Hawk asked.
“Yeah. But there’s no way I can do more today. It would kill me.” Not drama. She felt weak and lethargic, almost as shitty as she’d felt as a kid. Those memories haunted her, along with the faces of thin-faced children who never made it home from the cancer wards. That, and the endless visits from magicians and clowns, like balloon animals could fix everything.
“That leaves us with a problem.” He glanced at the other three patients and then at Heron.