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.

Nash pushes Serena back behind a wall of thick-bodied soldiers. “There, you see?”

“What does Gillis have to say about any of this?”

“Gillis doesn’t have anything to say about this. He’s not the one in charge here.”

The earth shakes as Storm paws the ground. Even Nash has the brains to look ashen for a moment. “I’m about through speaking with you, Nash.”

Margot’s mourners had been staring slack-jawed at the volleys between the men. But now, as Storm’s power gathers, his eyes roiling like a mad beast, they begin to back away. One soldier with a trembling gun shouts something as Storm tosses his antlers. A gun explodes, the shot cracking through the air like lightning.

Storm places himself between the bullet and us. It pierces his shoulder. Blood spurts in a crazy torrent. He lets out a bellow, loud enough to rattle the dead, and for one long moment everyone freezes.

Then the mourners scatter like hens, squawking and scrabbling as they flee through the headstones. Nash’s men shout among themselves. Guns explode in the air. And, though white-faced and trembling, Nash holds his ground. An angry, defiant frown pulls at his features, making him look like a stubborn child. Telltale sweat drips down his face. He mops at it as he starts shouting commands.

“Storm,” calls Jared, “what do you want me to do?”

The leader of the True Borns turns blazing eyes on us. “Get her out of here,” he snarls. “Take her to number three directly. Don’t go to one.”

Jared gives a curt nod. “Understood.” He carefully pries my fingers off his shoulders and jokes, “Careful, Princess. I’m precious cargo, you know.”

It’s only then that I realize that I’ve been digging into Jared’s shoulders. A red stain covers his arm. Storm’s blood, I realize, feeling faint. And then the jeweled red of the sniper’s laser gun sight travels up to Jared’s forehead and locks between his eyes.

“Jared, look out!” I screech and throw myself against him as the air splits and thunder rolls from the arc of the bullet. We fall to the ground and roll slightly to the left over the uneven dirt and grass. Though I’m on top, the air still whooshes from my lungs. I stop moving for a moment, wondering, through the haze of pain, whether we’re alive.

Beyond us, a soldier sways, his face a ruined thing, then topples. The bullet found a home, then—just not in us.

Jared looks at me, primeval rage etched across his fine cheekbones. Can’t be dead if he looks like he wants to tear something into pieces and eat it. My heart slows, relaxing with the knowledge that he’s still alive.

Storm, though, might not be as lucky.

Another bullet rips through Storm’s other shoulder as he advances on the line of knock-kneed soldiers. Storm lifts his head. The sky splits with the sound he issues, the very air shaking with his power.

The lines of Storm’s body begin to blur, and he seems to loom larger than himself as he reaches out and grasps the gun that wounded him. He rips the metal with his hands. One half he throws at the line of soldiers. It takes out one man, the head bending with a sickening crunch, and he falls. The other he hurls into the graveyard, amid the scattering mourners and gravestones. The line of soldiers backs up a few paces. Storm stands still and paws the earth, his antlers glowing like an unearthly beacon. Then he charges the line of men like a mad minotaur, while above the sounds of a rising wind and fray, Nash screams, “Stop it, we need them alive!”

I’m too caught up in what’s happening, the terrifying force of Nolan Storm, to move. Jared says something I don’t hear as Storm grabs the nearest man in two hands, picking him up like he’s nothing more than kindling. He hurls the soldier at his comrades, many of whom scatter while others fall, pinned beneath the man’s weight.

Suddenly the earth moves, and I’m no longer splayed across Jared’s body but beneath it. “Shhh.” His warm breath tickles my ear as I struggle. My fists pound his flesh uselessly. “Seriously, cut it out, Princess. I can’t save you if you’re wriggling like that.” He pulls back and traps my fists on either side of my head. Something about his voice, the strangeness of his eyes, stops me.

“How dare you,” I murmur. “I saved you just then.”

Jared chuckles, a warm, rich sound that jogs me all the way to my toes. “That you did. So why don’t you let me return the favor? We can go halfsies on this one, all right?” He flashes a dimple at me, the lines of his cheekbones so arresting I can barely think. He’s trying to distract me so I don’t panic, I reckon. But the din around us is maddening. And we’re in mortal peril. I nod, hoping he’ll let me up.

Jared, though, is no fool. “Promise me you’re not going to fight.”

I let out an angry whistle of a breath. But a second later, I nod again. Jared flashes his teeth. “That’s my girl.”

He pulls me up to a half crouch, one hand on my arm and another on the small of my back. I make a point of landing on his foot as hard as I can as I right myself.

Jared leans down and rubs at his toes. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Miserable, arrogant cat,” I mutter to myself. Then, for his benefit, I toss out, “That’s for calling me a ‘girl.’”

Another burst of dimples as his nose quivers and he starts to lead me through the winding row of headstones. “Duly noted, Lu.”

But just as Jared pulls me to relative safety, something—someone—catches my eye. A blur of slick hair, a square, strong jaw covered in its low beard. And the reflective glare of black leather gloves.

“Jared, wait!” I work to free my hands from his. I’m no match for him, though, and end up struggling uselessly. “Please!” I screech.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I thought I saw—” Though when I turn back around to look, the face has disappeared.

Just like a Fox, I think to myself. A Fox going to hole.

What is my father doing at Margot’s funeral?