Chapter 8

She’s a Little Unpredictable, This Girl

Clara was only too happy to have Dylan to herself. She hated to admit it, but she’d been obsessed with Dylan Gilmore at Old Park Hill, their last high school. He was eye candy, with his thick, dark hair and muscular body, and he was confident. He had been a diversion she enjoyed, someone to occupy her thoughts as one boring day led to the next, and she waited. It wasn’t until she killed Faith’s best friend that Clara realized her feelings were, possibly, much more serious than she’d ever realized. Once she discovered Dylan was a second pulse her emotions had intensified even more.

“You know what’s really interesting about the two of us?” Clara asked, flashing a toothy smile. She had kept her blond hair cropped short, which added to her assassin’s beauty: strong, focused, gorgeous.

Dylan was tempted to say Well, the really interesting thing is that we have the same father, but he didn’t.

“Go on, try to guess,” Clara said.

“I’m no good at reading minds,” Dylan said.

“You’re the only other second pulse in the world besides my crazy mother and Wade. We’re equal that way. We’re special.”

Dylan wanted to tell Clara that no, there was another. Her name is Faith, and she’s going to kill you. But as much fun as that would have been, it was not in the cards just yet. It was the biggest secret he had going for him. So he played along instead.

“Look, Clara, I’m here because I’m through with the drifters. You think your mom is crazy? You don’t know crazy until you’ve spent some quality time with Meredith.”

“How is she nuts? Tell me,” Clara asked. She was genuinely curious if Dylan’s situation was like her own: an egomaniacal, controlling mother.

“She’s got a god complex,” Dylan said. “And she’s mean. And she won’t tell me what her plan is. It’s like being in a cult over there.”

“Where’s over there?” Clara asked, smiling through the bars.

“Why should I tell you that? What’s in it for me?”

“So you do have an agenda then,” Clara said, smiling slyly as she paced along the bars like a caged lion. “I could open the gate on this cage and see what comes of it. I could come in there. That might be fun for the both of us.”

Dylan smiled faintly and held Clara’s gaze. How far was he required to take this in order to stay undercover? He regretted how he’d let his mom talk him into this and tried to move the conversation in a different direction.

“I don’t have an agenda that involves Meredith or a rebellion or any of that. I came here because I have questions. Questions I think only Andre can answer.”

“I’ve got a question only you can answer,” Clara said playfully. “How’s Faith Daniels? Or is she already dead?”

The blood at the back of Dylan’s head pushed forward, a great pressure of resentment against his eyes as he willed himself not to slam Clara’s head into the bars. It would do no good anyway. She would only laugh, and unlike her, he was sitting in a room surrounded by the one thing that could kill him if she slammed his head into it enough times.

“So she is dead?” Clara asked. Her brother, Wade, had gone quiet about Faith in recent weeks, but for a while Faith had been all he’d talked about. Her parents didn’t respond one way or the other—an ordinary single pulse, who cared? Well, Clara cared. Clara cared a great deal.

“I don’t see her much,” Dylan said. “But she’s not dead. At least I don’t think she is.”

Clara was pleased to hear Dylan wasn’t with Faith and surprisingly enthusiastic about the fact that Faith was alive. She fantasized about killing her quite often. Now, it would seem, her wish might come true. It was only a matter of when.

“Clara?”

It was Andre’s voice in her Tablet. Clara answered as though hearing from Andre was the biggest bother in the world.

“Yes, Andre?”

“Pick up.”

Clara took her Tablet out of her back pocket and held it to her ear.

“What?”

A pause as instructions were given, in which Dylan tried but failed to hear the voice on the other end.

“Can’t he do it himself?” Clara asked, obviously displeased with whatever she was being asked to do.

“All right, all right—I’m going.”

She snapped her Tablet large and input a few keystrokes, searching the screen for information Dylan couldn’t see.

“Dumb ass,” she said under her breath, then, looking at Dylan, added, “Be thankful you’re an only child.”

Dylan smiled, but not for the reason Clara intuited. If Meredith was telling the truth about Andre, Dylan had a couple of half siblings, one of whom was staring him in the face.

“Don’t go anywhere, my helpless prisoner. I’ll be back.”

Dylan did feel helpless. He wasn’t used to this feeling, and he didn’t like it. A few seconds later Clara was gone, and he touched his sound ring, pressing in and listening for voices. He heard none.

“I’m in the prison, safe for now,” Dylan whispered. He thought about saying that he’d been thrown around some but knew it would serve no purpose other than to worry Faith. “Wade, possibly Clara, scouting. Stay invisible.”

A long pause ensued, then Hawk’s voice was big and loud in Dylan’s head. It sounded as if Hawk were using a bullhorn.

“Copy, bro,” he said.

“Sounds like you’re screaming. Take it down a notch,” Dylan said.

“Right, inside voice. Just excited to hear you’re okay,” Hawk said, and the volume went down considerably. “We’ve moved camp, higher up into the wild. Camo’ed the HumGee, looks like a giant rock. Pretty cool. Faith, you there?”

“Yeah. Hey, Dylan, I miss you. Tell me you’re okay. Oh, and I got attacked by wolves. I’m okay, but I have another ripped shirt.”

Dylan could hear the smile in Faith’s voice, and he smiled, too. But he didn’t answer because he could hear footsteps approaching.

“You’re okay, right?” Faith asked. They hadn’t been apart in a long time, and it was already weighing on her.

“How’s the prison food?” Hawk added, trying to lighten the mood. “I bet they have some grade-A slop in that place.”

“I miss you,” Faith said, in a rare moment of letting down her guard emotionally in front of Hawk.

Dylan couldn’t answer Faith for fear of being seen or heard. The girl he loved was saying she missed him, and he couldn’t reply. It was agonizing.

Faith, sounding slightly annoyed, kept speaking. “So when a girl says she misses you, that’s when you say something nice. Or send flowers.”

“He’s obviously got someone within earshot,” Clooger broke in. “Shut up, you two, and stay focused. Dylan can take care of himself. Faith, anything?”

Faith was glad her reddening cheeks couldn’t be seen from where she was hiding. Talking this way in front of Hawk was one thing, but Clooger? She’d half forgotten he was even listening in.

“Nothing to see here,” Faith said. “All clear.”

Faith was positioned up in a tree, a hundred yards in front of the HumGee, keeping an eye out for anyone who might come near. She stared off toward the prison, which she couldn’t see through all the branches. She’d set up in a bad spot, a useless spot, and began climbing down for a better vantage point. Not hearing Dylan’s reply made her anxious. Whatever he was doing, he wasn’t alone.

“I’d like to review our situation, if I may,” Andre said. He had returned, alone and focused of mind, and Dylan stood up.

“I’m listening,” Dylan said.

“You have come here, unannounced, and willingly allowed yourself to be taken prisoner. If your mission had been to terminate me, you would have already done it.”

“Still could,” Dylan said. They both knew Dylan was capable of ending Andre Quinn’s life in the blink of an eye if he wanted to.

“True enough,” Andre said. “And yet you choose not to. The only explanation is that you really do think you’re my son and, that being the case, that we’ll have some things to discuss. But you’re assuming this is true based on information you’ve been given by Meredith, who I happen to know is both cruel and deceitful.”

“You know her well,” Dylan said, stepping closer to the bars. He could almost reach out and touch Andre from where he stood. “But what if I am your son? What then? Maybe the two of us could help each other. Maybe we could find some common ground.”

“What kind of common ground are you suggesting?” Andre asked.

“I don’t know exactly,” Dylan conceded. “But if you’re my dad, I’d imagine we could figure out a way to work together instead of against each other.”

Andre didn’t respond. He stared at Dylan, and they held each other’s gaze. Andre broke the standoff: “Let’s assume I give you a DNA test. I can do that with my Tablet right now in less than ten seconds. I won’t even have to draw blood. What happens when you’re wrong?”

“I won’t be,” Dylan said.

“But what if you are? What then? You’re safer to us dead than alive, that’s what. Switching sides late in the game will have been a miscalculation that will cost you your life.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for, not really.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Give me the test,” Dylan said, taking one more step, which put their faces within a foot of each other. Dylan could see the resemblance to himself in the dark hair, the straight nose.

“If I’m not your kid, I swear I won’t hurt you. That’s all I have; but it’s my word, and I mean it. I won’t retaliate.”

“Okay, let’s assume you are my son. That presents other problems you haven’t thought of. Wade and Clara won’t be pleased. They’re competitive enough as it is. A half brother? They’ll want to kill you, and frankly, I’m not sure I can control them like I once did. Gretchen hates Meredith even more than I do. She’ll hate you twice as much and trust you even less. You can’t win with her. If by some miracle we are in fact related, they can never know. It must be our secret.”

“Agreed.”

There was a long pause as the two of them stared at each other from opposite sides of the prison bars. “Look directly into the white circle, nowhere else,” Andre said. He held his Tablet at eye level. A beam of light moved across Dylan’s face, landing squarely in his eye. Dylan did not blink or move as Andre watched the kaleidoscope of brown and gold hues dancing on the screen.

“Andre? Are you in your quarters? I’m coming over.”

Gretchen was on the move as the light from the Tablet clicked off. Andre engaged the Tablet receiver.

“Not now, Gretchen, I’m thinking.”

He tapped out a few commands, one to turn off the voice and GPS activation so he wouldn’t have to deal with Gretchen, and the other to set the DNA reading for its second stage.

“Now you,” Andre said, handing Dylan his Tablet. It was strange, in a way, that everyone carried the same devices around. Holding Andre’s Tablet in its compact size made Dylan feel that they had, if nothing else, this modern thing in common.

Dylan pointed the light into Andre’s eye. If anyone had seen Dylan’s eye and Andre’s eye in the light, side by side, they would have said they were from the same person. Flooded with light and up close, the colors and patterns were nearly identical.

The light went out, and Dylan handed the Tablet back through the bars.

“So, what’s your test tell you?” Dylan asked.

Andre didn’t answer right away. He stood for a long time, staring at the small screen. It seemed to Dylan that a mix of emotions passed over his face like clouds shattered with lightning. Finally, Andre spoke.

“We are, as you say, father and son.”

Andre looked down at the floor, and there his gaze remained as the two stood in silence. He was processing some unexpected realities. How many times had he and Meredith slept together? It had been a love affair more of the heart and the mind than a physical passion. But she hadn’t only turned against everything they believed in and worked for, she had taken his son from him, lied about it, and kept that lie for seventeen long years. Meredith’s betrayal was so much greater than he had ever imagined. It was this that had made it such an unlikely event in Andre’s mind. What kind of woman does that to a man?

When Andre finally did look up, it appeared to Dylan that his father had made up his mind about some things. He was nothing if not decisive.

“This is our secret; you understand? No one can know.”

“Fine by me,” Dylan said.

“Right now we need to get you out of that cell.”

Andre unlocked the gate, and it automatically moved aside. “Let me do the talking.”

“Agreed.”

Dylan started to exit the cell, but Andre stepped in front of him, taking a long look at who he now knew to be his son.

“It’s going to be okay,” Dylan said. “We’ll figure this out.”

“You’re very—” Andre stopped short, searching for the right word. “Unexpected.”

He put a hand on Dylan’s shoulder, slapped it down a couple of times. “Life is never what I predict it’s going to be.”

“Join the club.”

The two of them smiled at each other and walked out of cell block D, toward Andre’s quarters, as Dylan heard Faith say something into his sound ring.

“You guys, someone’s walking up through the woods. We’re not alone out here.”

 

“Get out of there, Faith. You’ll blow our cover.”

Clooger couldn’t believe their bad luck. Why had he allowed Faith to recon in the first place? He’d said no, she’d said whatever, and when he’d looked back she was gone. Sometimes second pulses were a wild card he hated having to deal with, more trouble than they were worth. They could be like star athletes who suddenly disregarded plays called on the court for no other reason than that they could get away with it. Go ahead, bench me. See how that works out for you.

They had all three gotten into the HumGee and moved it down an old forest service road another two miles into the woods. One of the advantages of having a rig that floated an inch or two off the ground: no tracks to follow. It was cleaner than walking, left no trace. A broad, overgrown trail led them to a narrow clearing, where they pulled in tight against the trees and re-covered the rig. With the journey behind them and the chameleon cover in place, the team was nearly untraceable.

That was when Faith had requested a post outside, farther down from where they’d been, so she could bird-dog any approaching walkers or fliers. Clooger had said no, but, looking back, his star athlete was already heading the other way. Now she was down the mountain somewhere, hiding out in a tree, probably contemplating the use of her pulse.

“She’s not going to answer,” Hawk said. “Too risky. If someone’s nearby, she’ll keep quiet.”

He and Clooger had slid past an opening in the cover and gotten into the HumGee. The only thing that could possibly give them away was if someone stood on top of the chameleon cover and discovered there was a vehicle underneath. Hawk detected the slight odor of skunk in the tight quarters and wished he could get out and breathe some fresh mountain air.

“We should be ready for this to go seriously sideways,” Clooger said.

“Pear shaped,” Hawk said, nodding as he squinted one eye. “I get you.”

“If they find Faith out there, the whole Andre army is coming down on us.”

“And Dylan is screwed,” Hawk added.

Clooger nodded. “Yeah. And Dylan is screwed.”

“If they’ve sent single pulses in, she could fly out. They won’t be able to tell her pulse from their own, not with the system they have in place.”

Clooger wasn’t so sure; it felt risky.

“We give her an inch, and she’ll take a mile. The last thing we need is someone getting killed out there.”

If they could have seen where Faith was—more than a mile down the forest service road and off into the trees—they would have been even more anxious. She’d come down from one tree and started walking toward another when she felt a pulse nearby. It was subtle—a tiny tremor under her skin—but it was there. She couldn’t say how close for sure, but the feeling scared her. If she flew up into the nearest tree, there was a chance that whoever was out looking for them would feel it, so she’d made due with her limited climbing skills and found cover quickly. Her long arms and legs had helped in the effort; but all the same, she was only ten feet up in the branches when she heard movement in the trees about twenty yards to her right. A few seconds later she heard a similar sound, like someone landing on the ground, behind her.

They’ve found me.

Faith looked up and thought about going for it, just pulsing into the sky and moving fast enough that they couldn’t see her. Maybe they’d think it was one of their own search party. If she could get inside the HumGee, she’d be safely hidden. The problem was her position. Branches seemed to be everywhere, and any kind of flying escape wasn’t going to be possible without making some noise. The closer these two got, the tougher it was going to be.

She decided to wait, even though her heart was racing as she strained to hear the slightest sound. She heard the caw of two crows overhead but otherwise nothing. If someone was searching for an intruder, the window for escaping on foot was narrowing with every second she waited. Faith crept down as quietly as she could, dropped to the ground, and began running.

Wade sensed movement. He was particularly gifted at tuning his mind in to the world around him, and he was nearly sure this was the general location where the second pulse he’d felt had come from. He turned in the direction of the sound and started moving, floating just above the ground. He saw someone dart between two tall firs in the distance and took chase, flying low and deflecting sagging branches as he went. He picked up speed and rounded the wide trunk of a tree, turning sharply. It was a blind corner, and coming to the other side, something or someone shoved him hard to the left. He tumbled wildly, crashed into a tree, and stood up.

“What the hell?” he said, standing and brushing himself off. He felt someone land behind him, felt the pulse in his bones.

“Whoever you are, you’d better run,” he said.

“You’re hopeless.”

Wade wheeled around and saw Clara leaning against a tree, looking about as smug as he’d ever seen her.

“Cavalry’s here,” she said.

Wade wanted to pick her up and throw her at the prison.

“I don’t need your help. Go back home,” he said, already assuming a position to leap up in the air and leave her behind.

“For starters, that block of rock down there isn’t home. I think we both know that. And second, Andre said you asked for help, so here I am.”

“Didn’t ask, don’t need,” he said. “Get lost.”

“Wait—you didn’t call for help?” Clara asked. She leaned away from the tree, took a step toward her brother.

“Hell no. Why would I need help searching a forest for signs of life?”

“Because it’s a big space and you’re one guy?” Clara mocked, but she was also processing the way Intels do: Why did Andre send me out here? Why does Wade want me to leave?

“You’re hoping she’s out here, aren’t you?” Clara asked. “You’re imagining that if Dylan is down there, then she must be up here. You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

“I said get lost,” Wade warned. “There’s a whole lot of trouble out here for both of us. You want a fight, I’ll give you a real fight.”

He was referring to all the trees. The prison wasn’t safe for Wade and Clara just because it was isolated and secure; it was also devoid of nature. Their second-pulse weakness, the thing that could get them into real danger, was nature itself. Roots, trees, ivy, plants—these were the things that could weaken them, even kill them if they came in violent contact with too much.

“Are you challenging me to a brawl?” Clara asked. She would have loved nothing more than to uproot a tree and hit her brother across the face with it.

“I’m going to say this one more time,” Wade said. He was starting to feel the rage coming. If this went on for much longer, he’d go ballistic. “Get lost. I don’t need your help.”

Clara knew the tone of voice. Her brother was close to blowing his stack, and when that happened, all bets were off. It was a fight she might lose, and that was unacceptable. And what was Andre doing sending her out here in the first place? The Quinn clan was acting even weirder than normal.

“Good luck finding your girl,” she said, smiling derisively. “And if by some miracle that actually happens, make sure she stays away from Dylan. Unless you want her dead.”

Faith was hiding nearby, her bare arms touching the rough bark of the tree she leaned against. She’d heard the entire exchange and had a few thoughts of her own. It took all her willpower not to go after Clara and show her just how powerful Faith Daniels really was. She could beat Clara out here; she was sure of it. She’d put her chiseled face in the dirt, pin her under the branches of a tree, wrap a length of ivy around her sorry neck.

“Faith, I know you can hear me,” Clooger said as he pressed into the sound ring. “If you’re thinking about getting into some kind of confrontation, don’t. Dylan’s in there. He’ll have a hell of a time getting out if you go bat shit right now. It’s not time yet. Just stay calm, stay hidden, get here as fast as you can. And don’t pulse.”

Hawk looked at his partner’s bald head, then at the look of concern on his face.

“You think she’ll listen?” Hawk wondered.

Neither of them knew it was Wade and Clara out there. If they had known, the only sane course of action would have been to run.

“Who knows. Maybe.”

“She’s a little unpredictable, this girl,” Hawk observed. “But she’s no fool. And she’s not going to put us in danger unless she has to. Take it easy, big guy.”

For her part, Faith didn’t need the distraction of voices in her head unless one of them was Dylan. She wished he’d send word that the undercover plan—of which Faith had never been supportive—had failed. She wished he was calling for her to come on in: “Let’s finish these bastards off right here, right now.”

It was while she was thinking that precise thought that she heard a voice.

“You might as well come out. I know you’re there.”

Damn, Faith thought. Wade Quinn knew. He knew someone was hiding nearby, someone with a pulse. She could fly away, but what would that solve? She’d gone and blown their cover, and not with just anyone, with Wade.

This is bad.

She took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree, hoping the plan they had in place for just such an event would work.

“Faith?” Wade asked. He couldn’t believe his eyes and for an instant thought she might be a ghost or an aberration of his own mind. Could it really be Faith Daniels, all the way up here in the middle of nowhere?

He was also, despite whatever he was supposed to feel, happy to see her. The fight they’d had at Old Park Hill so many months ago swept across his mind. He’d thought, rightly so, that she might be dead. He hadn’t been the one to throw the object that slammed into the back of Faith’s head, but he’d seen it fly. He’d known it had hit its mark by the way Clara reacted. She knew when her aim was true.

“I know this looks bad,” Faith stammered. “But let me explain.”

Wade put up a hand and walked toward her, halving the space between them.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I thought maybe, after that mess Dylan got you mixed up in back at Old Park Hill—I thought you might have been really hurt.”

“I was,” Faith said, feeling a little more thankful for Wade’s concern than seemed like a good idea. He was every bit the tall, striking person he’d been at Old Park Hill. If anything, he was even more attractive since the last time they’d seen each other. He was more muscular in the shoulders and arms, his face more chiseled despite a soft hue of three days without shaving. She had to admit she’d missed seeing him, not precisely because she liked him, more for the simple pleasure of gazing at a damn good-looking boy. “I didn’t wake up for a while.”

“How long?” He kept inching closer, which was making Faith nervous. If he tried to kill her, she’d have to reveal her second pulse; and that really wasn’t an option at this stage of the game.

“About two weeks, I guess. That’s what they tell me. I don’t remember exactly.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Wade said, clenching his jaw. He ran a hand through his blond hair, looked off into the woods with those sky-blue eyes. “He should never have brought you into this. It’s not your problem.”

“Well, it is now. I guess,” Faith said. Stepping closer, trying to stay calm. “I owe him my life. Clara could have finished me off, but he protected me. It’s why I followed him out here.”

“Followed him from where?” Wade asked, the calculating, competitive part of his personality escaping for a moment. “No, wait—don’t answer that. I don’t need to know. In fact, it’s probably better I don’t know.”

Wade was close enough to touch Faith if he’d wanted to, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely vulnerable and confused.

“Why did he come here, Faith? Why did you come here?”

She hesitated, thought again about flying away, and then put out the bait she’d been told to if this situation came to pass.

“He left all upset about something I’m not supposed to even know about. It’s serious, also weird.”

“Weird how?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Faith wavered. It was Meredith’s idea to tell Wade about Andre and Dylan, not Faith’s. In her opinion, if telling Wade was an option, it presented the best of all circumstances.

“Is he okay? Can you at least tell me that?”

“He’s a second pulse. It’s not like anyone in there can end him without a mountain of effort. Dylan can handle himself just fine. You need to stop worrying about him.”

Wade couldn’t stand the idea that Faith might still be with Dylan. It made him want to knock down some trees. This was exactly what Meredith had wanted—distractions.

“You can’t tell him I told you,” Faith said pleadingly. “And you can’t tell anyone else. He wants to handle this his own way.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not going to matter. You shouldn’t be wrapped up in any of this. It’s not your responsibility. I’ll make sure he’s fine, I promise.”

It was possibly the biggest lie Wade had ever told, since he was dead set on killing Dylan himself the first chance he got. But he was starting to imagine a life after whatever tasks they had to complete were over, and Faith represented something normal and attractive to him. She was tall and pretty, headstrong, smart. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her during all those long nights trapped in the prison, training for something he didn’t fully understand.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Faith said. “It was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Wade said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He wanted to reach out to her, touch her soft skin, pick her up and fly somewhere no one could find them.

“You’re not going to believe it, but I think it’s true,” Faith said, drawing out the end like a long thread from a spool. “Meredith told Dylan who his dad is.”

“And this is important why?” Wade asked. He wished he could turn off the sarcasm in his voice, but it crept out just the same.

Faith hated it when he used that tone, always had. Go ahead, hit him with the hammer. He deserves it.

“Andre is Dylan’s dad. For real.”

Wade threw back his head and laughed out loud, because he was sure this was some kind of joke and she was about to get to the real information she was holding back. But looking at Faith, he knew at least one thing: she definitely thought it was true.

“Come on, Faith. That’s a little wild, don’t you think? My dad is Dylan’s dad? That doesn’t even make sense.”

Faith shrugged. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”

She began to float slowly up in the air, and Wade grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled. Wade backed off and held out his hands as if he were dealing with a cornered animal.

“I’m sorry, just—just don’t go.”

“And don’t treat me like I’m stupid. It’s true, Wade. Deal with it. Why else would Dylan desert the drifters camp? Why would he come here, uninvited, and basically give himself up? His mom has been lying to him his entire life. He’s looking for answers from his dad—your dad—and I’m scared for him. I’m afraid he’ll never come out of that place, not alive anyway.”

“I’ll make sure he does, I promise,” Wade said, a repeat of the same huge lie, because if Dylan really was his half brother, he was even more sure he had to get rid of him. The last thing in the world Wade Quinn needed was a brother to compete with. That was not happening, no way.

“Let me go back, check things out, see where we stand,” Wade said. “I won’t tell anyone you told me. I won’t say you’re out here. Just don’t leave, at least not yet.”

Faith half smiled and kicked the ground in front of her feet. She knew how important it was to sell this deception, but looking up once more, she felt an unexplainable attraction to the person standing before her. What insane gene in her DNA made it so hard to resist Wade’s pleading? She felt the worst kind of regret—in love with Dylan but drawn against her will to a guy who had lied to her, who was on the wrong side of whatever she was involved in. Why couldn’t you have looked like a troll and lived under a bridge and had the most horrible personality ever?

She took a deep breath and gave her answer: “I did bring provisions for a few days. And I raided a sporting goods store on the edge of town, so I have a sleeping bag. I like it out here. It’s peaceful.”

Wade agreed, it was peaceful. In four months of training they hadn’t let him out for so much as a walk in the woods. It made him angry. And looking at Faith, he wanted more than anything just to leave everything at the prison behind.

“Meet me right here, tomorrow night?” Wade asked. “That should give me time to recon this thing and give you a better idea of what’s going on. But no kidding, you need to stay out of this, Faith. It’s dangerous. And Clara can’t know you’re out here following Dylan around. If she gets a second chance, she’ll go straight for the kill. As far as she’s concerned, you’re the enemy.”

Faith’s smile, which had barely existed to begin with, vanished.

“I hate her.”

Wade felt his Tablet, which he had set to silent, buzz in his pocket. The situation he’d gotten himself into was risky. Clara could come back; anyone could show up. His Tablet GPS was live, and he hadn’t moved in five minutes.

“That situation at the games—” Wade said.

“You mean the hammer Clara put through my best friend’s head? That situation?”

She held out her bare arm so Wade could see the hammer and the chain and the ivy. And most of all, the C for Clara.

“Yeah, I mean that. I had nothing to do with it. She did that all on her own.”

Faith ran a hand through her long hair, pulling it back behind her ear. It was a nervous habit she didn’t even think about, and Wade saw the blue-and-green circle that matched her eyes.

“Cool earring.”

Faith took a step backward, wishing she’d been more careful. Had the unusual earring aroused suspicion?

But she needn’t have worried. Wade loved her hair and those delicate ears and the fact that she could look him almost in the eye because she was so tall. The tattoo worried him, but for Wade the earring was just jewelry, something he could compliment her on in order to win points.

“Don’t do anything crazy,” Wade said, taking a last look at the tattoo on her forearm. He’d known a lot of single pulses who thought they could take a punch. It was like a disease with them. They could move a car with their minds, but sometimes they couldn’t accept the fact that the very same car was solid enough to bash in their brains.

“Don’t ever forget you’re a single pulse. You could get killed just flying around for the fun of it. And you wouldn’t last five minutes with Clara. It’s not fair, but it’s true.”

Faith was becoming more controlled in the face of second-pulse bravado. It was getting easier to keep the secret. Her day was coming soon enough, and when it did, the payoff would be even better. She could imagine the looks on Wade’s and Clara’s faces when they finally knew: This girl is a second. She’s as powerful as we are. Hers was a secret that was getting better with time.

“I’m careful,” Faith said. “And I don’t have any interest in whatever crazy mess you’re caught in. I’m worried for Dylan, so I followed him. End of story.”

“Same place, an hour after dark, tomorrow,” Wade said.

He smiled that confident smile of his, a smile that had the unexpected power to confuse Faith’s emotions, and then he was gone.

“Well, that was weird,” Faith said. She wished she had Dylan’s jacket, because there was a chill in the air and it was a long walk back to the HumGee, where she’d left it. Then again, the jacket would have only set Wade off.

She started walking, pressed the sound ring.

“Sorry about that, guys. Coast is clear now. We’re fine.”

“No one saw you?”

Faith hated to lie, but things were complicated enough without Clooger freaking out.

“All clear, no worries.”

“Don’t leave us hanging like that!” Clooger yelled. “I call, you answer. You can’t go AWOL, Faith. Not even for five minutes.”

“Sorry, I just . . .” What to say, what to say? “I thought there was someone out here, but I was wrong. I didn’t think a lot of chatter was a great idea while I was figuring it out.”

Silence, then a slightly chastened Clooger. “Fair enough. Get back here as quick as you can and we’ll regroup.”

“At least you’re efficient,” Hawk said. “Took you all of one day to nearly blow our cover. Impressive.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen if I keep moving; fix me some lunch?”

“Unwrapping you a protein bar now. Chocolate peanut butter. Yum.”

Faith made a sour face. She hated protein bars, but she was starting to love the walks in the woods. Wolves and skunks and Wade Quinns aside, it really was peaceful. Maybe someday she and Dylan would live on a mountain, have nine kids, and throw boulders at each other for fun. For some reason she thought of Wade, too. It had been more confusing seeing him than she’d expected, as if he were a magnet and she were steel and it would take some effort not to get pulled in, not to get hurt.

She belonged with Dylan, and as long as he stayed alive, that hadn’t changed just because Wade Quinn was back in the picture.

At least that’s what she told herself as she made her way back to the shelter of the HumGee, feeling the weight of all the lies that had piled up in such a short span of time.