29

If I can’t break out of here, what makes you think that you can break in?

Zev’s question may have been rhetorical, but I did him the favor of answering, anyway.

Easy, I replied, slipping my cell into my pocket. The bad guys want me in.

For the first time since I’d recognized my mother, I smiled without feeling nauseous. I could do this.

I would do this.

I had to.

Shutting my mind against Zev’s voice—velvet and smooth inside my head—I set to work. The moment I turned my mind to what needed to be done, I felt a slight vibration in the air, a song singing me closer, luring me in. The palms of my hands itched as I scanned the house for weapons.

I could do this.

I would do this.

I had to.

I started in my bedroom and worked my way quickly through the rest of the second floor. I didn’t have as many weapons as another person might have had in my position, but I’d been hunting for five years, and during that time, the weapons I did have had been stashed all over the house. A knife here, a dagger there, the occasional sword.

My dad had a gun.

One by one, I tracked each of them down and tucked them into my clothing, heightened awareness of each blade bringing what I was about to do fully into focus. I saved the gun for last and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans, nestled against the small of my back.

Ready.

Armed to the teeth, I slipped out of the house, the way I had a thousand times before. This time, there was a chance my dad might actually miss me before I returned.

If I returned.

The thought gave me pause—but not nearly enough. I took one step away from the house, and then another. A moment later, I was walking, and a second after that, I broke into a run.

The address Skylar had given me was outside of town. Driving would have been easier and faster, but if things went well, I deeply suspected I wouldn’t want to leave even a trace of evidence behind.

Getting Zev out of there wouldn’t be enough. To end this, really end this, we’d have to make sure that there wasn’t anyone left to chase us.

We’d have to crush Chimera—and everyone who worked there—to dust.

Running toward Zev felt better than anything had in a very long time. It felt like I was doing something.

Like I was going home.

I don’t know how long it took me to get there. Time lost all meaning—a dangerous thing for someone like me—but by the time I came to a stop at a dead-end road, more desert than not, the sun was starting to set.

Prime hunting time, I thought, my body relishing the darkness as it slowly kissed the earth.

Go. Hunt. Just do it somewhere else.

The closer I got to Zev, the harder it was to brace myself against the sound of his voice—and the harder his words were to ignore.

Believe me, Kali, I’d rather be trapped here for another year—or two or three or thirty—than risk something happening to you. And if you come here, something will—

He broke off, like he couldn’t bear to finish that sentence.

You can’t ask me to just leave you there, I told him, and then, realizing that he could and had and probably was about to again, I clarified my words. Don’t.

Why does it matter where my body is? Zev asked. It’s just a body, Kali. They can’t touch anything that matters.

All I heard was the word body, and all I could think of were the things they were doing to his. It was like living through an autopsy—over and over and over again.

I don’t want you here, Zev said. I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that he was entirely aware how those words would sound to someone who’d never really felt wanted by anyone, until now.

Just go away.

That was what Zev said, but I was so close now that I could feel him thinking other things. I remembered the feel of my hand on his stomach, the feel of his on mine. Zev could tell me I wasn’t wanted until my ears rang with the words, and it still wouldn’t matter.

People like us were meant to come in pairs.

That thought fresh in my mind, I stopped running. I was close enough now that I could almost smell Zev’s blood, could see the way they’d bled him again and again. The road itself wasn’t abandoned, but the address Skylar had given me didn’t exactly look commercial, either.

The entire complex was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence, rusted and rotting, like it hadn’t been replaced in decades. There was a sign out front that warned would-be trespassers that the land beyond this fence had once been used to test explosives. Like the fence, the sign had seen better days: WARNING, it read, UNDE ONATED INES.

“Undetonated mines,” I said, feeling like I’d solved the puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. “Isn’t that convenient?”

I scanned the perimeter of the fence—there was only one access road. It led up to a single gate, with an abandoned guard post.

The gate was open. I took a step toward it, and Zev’s voice echoed with bone-shaking vehemence through my entire body.

You don’t have to do this.

I looked at the fence, the gate, the building in the distance. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I do.”

“Do what?”

My hand tightened over the handle of one of my knives, but as my eyes adjusted to the newborn darkness, I saw the very last person I’d expected to see gracing a deserted road with her presence.

Bethany Davis.

“This is the place, right?” Bethany said. I looked past her—she’d parked her BMW just on the other side of the gate. “This is the address Skylar gave me.”

“Skylar told you to come here?” I asked dumbly.

“No,” Bethany said. “Skylar told me not to come here. Same dif.”

“I knew you’d come if I told you not to.” Skylar rounded the bend in the road a second after I heard her voice. “Reverse psychology. Behold my genius.”

As Skylar walked fully into view, I realized she wasn’t alone.

“Elliot?” Bethany said, sounding as surprised as I felt. “What are you doing here?”

“My little sister snuck out of the house carrying a circular-saw blade and a can of Mace.” Elliot gave Skylar a look. “I couldn’t exactly let her come alone.”

A can of Mace? What did Skylar think she was going to do, pepper-spray the big, bad biomedical conglomerate into submission?

“Look,” I said. “I appreciate the gesture, but whatever Chimera is keeping in there”—I gestured to the land that lay beyond the barbed wire—“I’m betting it’s not pretty, and I can’t do what I need to do if I have to worry about the three of you.”

“You can’t do it without us,” Skylar corrected. “I’ve seen it, Kali—seen it for as long as I can remember. Most of the psychic stuff, it’s pretty new, but this place, tonight, us—I’ve been dreaming it since I was twelve.”

Elliot ground his teeth together. “For the last time, Skye, you aren’t psychic.”

She met his eyes, and I was reminded of the things she’d told me in Bethany’s dad’s lab—It’s going to get better. But first, it’s going to get worse.

“Yeah, El,” Skylar said softly, “I am psychic. And you can pretend to be a skeptic, but if you hadn’t believed me when I said we should come, you would have duct-taped me to a chair in the kitchen instead of coming with.” Skylar must have seen the question in my eyes, because she clarified for me: “I’ve been duct-taped to chairs a lot.”

Sensing that she’d gone off topic, Skylar smiled—a sad smile, the kind strangers exchange in cemeteries when they don’t know what to say.

Sometimes there aren’t any good choices, she’d told me. Sometimes making the right one is hard.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her, unsure what it was that she thought she had to do, but feeling the weight of it in the air between us.

“Yeah,” Skylar replied, responding to my assertion the exact same way I had replied to Zev’s. “I do. If you go in there by yourself, they’ll kill you. You’ll die.”

There was something about the way she said the words that made me believe her, absolutely and without reserve.

“If we don’t go with you, you’ll die, and a hundred thousand things that are supposed to happen—things that you could do—will die, too.”

I wanted to ask her how I could do anything, how one genetic freak of a girl could be of any importance at all, but before I could, Skylar switched from psychic proclamations to good old-fashioned logic. “Evidence has a way of disappearing when it implicates powerful people, Kali. You’re evidence, and they’ve already tried to kill you once. They’re obviously going to try again.”

“As much as it pains me to admit this,” Bethany interjected, “Skylar’s right. One dead teenager in the middle of nowhere is easy enough to explain. Four dead teenagers, two of whom have a brother in the FBI? That gets tricky no matter who the CEO is bribing, blackmailing, or sleeping with.”

In Bethany-ese, I took that to mean something along the line of “there’s safety in numbers.”

And maybe that would have been true—if there was any safety to be had. Glancing out over the dirt-dry land to the building in the distance, I got the feeling that there wasn’t.

The sign in front of this complex might as well have been labeled POINT OF NO RETURN.

“I’m bulletproof.” I countered Bethany’s logic with fact. “You guys aren’t. Worst-case scenario, they catch me. Worst-case scenario, you die.”

I saw my words hit home with Elliot. Bethany pursed her lips. Sensing the chink in their armor, I turned the full force of my gaze on Skylar.

“You either let the bad things happen,” she said softly. “Or you don’t.”

Her eyes shone—with certainty or tears, I wasn’t sure which. “Everybody has choices. This is mine.”

And then, before any of the rest of us could sort out the exact meaning of her words, she turned on her heels and ran.

Right through the gate.

I caught up with Skylar quickly enough, but by the time I did, the gate that had separated the premises from the rest of the desert had clamped shut behind us.

Someone knew we were here.

“Stay behind me,” I hissed. She melted into my back. The sound of footsteps told me that Elliot and Bethany weren’t far behind. For better or worse now, the four of us were in this together—at least until I could find a way to get the three of them out.

“We get in, we get Zev, and we get out,” I said, revising my earlier plan. Reducing this facility to ashes and dust would have to wait. I had more to think about now than just Zev.

“It’s a search and rescue,” Skylar said, nodding. “Got it. My brother Charlie is in the marines.”

Of course he was. One of these days, Skylar and Elliot were going to run out of brothers. It was only a matter of time.

“Kali,” Bethany said, her voice a ghost of a whisper, lost to the desert night. “We have visitors.”

I expected to see the men in suits, or, worse, Rena, but instead, I saw eight pairs of blood-red eyes, glowing with hunger.

Hellhounds. Again.

“Seriously,” I said. “These things are not endangered.”

Automatically, my mind started playing out ways this fight could go. I was faster and stronger than I’d been two days earlier, but there were eight of them this time. Three adults, five juveniles—all bigger, heavier, and uglier than me.

“Stay back,” I told the others, keeping my voice low and praying that Skylar wouldn’t get any more crazy ideas and that Beth wouldn’t feel compelled to give a repeat belly-dancing performance.

I continued eyeing the beasts. “No sudden movements.”

I’d bled enough in these clothes that if given the choice, the hellhounds would probably go for me and not my friends, but probably wasn’t good enough—not when there was anyone’s life at stake but my own.

“Stay back,” I said again as I wracked my mind, trying to find a way that this didn’t end in human bloodshed. “I can handle this.”

Take out the adults first, Zev advised darkly. Then go for the pups.

Beside me, Skylar brandished her Mace. Bethany appeared to be holding a gun. As best I could tell, Elliot seemed to have come to this fight armed only with a pair of lawn shears.

This could not possibly end well.

Your humans are very strange, Zev said, as if that were the primary issue here. I could feel the hunt-lust rising in his body, the same as in mine.

Yeah, I replied, the world around me going very quiet and very still. They are.

A second before the largest male made its move, I made mine, flinging the knife in my hand and listening for the satisfying thunk it made as it tore through flesh and hit bone, knocking my target back and off its feet.

The remaining hellhounds growled and began circling. I kept my body between the others and the monsters, willing those beady red eyes to follow my movements, mark my scent.

The one I’d felled made a high-pitched gargling sound, and it stirred something inside of me.

Thirsty.

Now.

I leapt the moment I heard Zev’s whisper, but this time, as my body collided with a hellhound’s, I wasn’t the one who went flying backward.

It did.

Its teeth tore into my flesh. My knife tore into its. The smell of sulfur and blood propelled me onward, as familiar and comforting as towels straight out of the dryer. Sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, I skewered the hound on top of me and was rewarded by its mate trying to detach my head from my body.

Behind me, one of the pups launched itself at Elliot. Skylar maced it.

I’d barely registered that fact before the beast I was fighting reared up, sending its massive skull directly into my chin. My head snapped back. I tasted blood in my mouth, but somehow, my dagger found its way to the beast’s eye.

That was when I lost myself to the moment, the weapons, the fight. There was a rhythm to it, unbreakable and swift. I felt like I was dancing. It rained blood.

As I dispatched the one I’d stabbed in the eye, the largest juvenile—nearly full-grown—came at me from behind, snapping its massive jaw and nearly bisecting me at the waist. But I was too fast for it, and it only got a piece.

A tiny piece.

I thrust my sword arm backward, catching another one of the beasts straight through its heart. Black-red blood bubbled to the surface, but the sound of a human scream kept me from taking it—any of it—for myself.

Bethany.

I whirled around, expecting to see her impaled on razor-sharp teeth, but instead, I saw her staring in horror at Skylar.

She was lying on the ground—very still. She was bleeding.

One, two, three, four.

I couldn’t remember how many I’d killed. However many it was, it wasn’t enough. Elliot had managed to jam his shears back into the throat of the smallest pup, but it was still growling. I leapt for Skylar, but one of the remaining hounds took a swipe at my legs.

Inhuman rage bubbled up inside of me. In the bat of an eyelash, I had the beast’s head—as broad as a truck tire—in my hands. I pressed them together, my muscles tensing to the point that I thought they might snap, the beast’s bones cracking under the onslaught.

I met its eyes, and then, I tightened my grip and twisted.

A moment later, I flung its limp body to the side like a rag doll and eyed the remaining hellhounds.

There were two left—just two. They must have seen it in my eyes—the hunger, the rage—because they ran. With their tails between their legs, they lumbered off into the distance. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t. I made my way back to Skylar instead.

Her head was lying to one side. She was pale, bleeding, deathly still, and I froze.

I’d known she was holding something back—about tonight, about this place, about coming here, helping me. Her eyes shining, she’d told me that this was her choice.

No, I thought. Oh, God. No.

I knelt next to her and felt for a pulse.

“Are they gone?” she asked, opening one eye.

Relief—bittersweet and warm—surged through my body, and I jerked my hand away from her neck. “You’re okay?”

“I got clawed a little,” she said. “Playing dead seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

“Playing dead?” Elliot repeated, and I saw in his eyes that he’d bought her act as much as I had. From the moment I’d seen her lying there, I’d been sure that the worst had happened, that I’d killed her by not being fast enough, strong enough, smart enough.

“I’m fine,” Skylar said. “And even if I wasn’t—I chose this. I knew what it was going to be like, and it was my choice to make. Deal.”

For a corpse, she was starting to get pretty mouthy.

“Come on,” I said, wishing more than ever that I could send them back. “Let’s go.”

We moved forward, step by careful step, me on point and the others bringing up the rear. The world was silent, absolutely silent all around us, until I heard Skylar whisper a single word into the back of my head.

“Duck.”

One word. Just one whispered word—but I did it. I fell to a crouching position the second before some kind of spear came whizzing by my head, close enough that I could feel the breeze it left in its wake. Close enough that if I hadn’t ducked, it would have taken off my head.

I should have heard it coming. I should have smelled it: meat and day-old blood and something sickly sweet. Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the closest hellhound body. I dug my fingers into its hide and pulled, ripping off a chunk of flesh.

In one smooth motion, I stood, brandishing the hide as a shield.

“Okay, now that is disgusting,” Bethany said.

I didn’t reply. I was too busy waiting for the next shot—and tracing its trajectory back to the thing that had shot it.

I could see it in the distance, guarding the entrance to the building. It took me a moment to place it. Tail of a scorpion, body of a lion, three rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“Is that a manticore?” Skylar said. “Aren’t they extinct?”

Apparently not. Of all the creatures in the preternatural world, this one most resembled the kind of hybrids that Chimera was trying to build. It looked like a dozen different creatures, sewn together by the devil’s seamstress. I catalogued its weapons: the teeth, the tail, the poisonous spines. A niggling sensation told me that I was forgetting—something that I’d read in a book.

Its voice, Zev said. Knowledge flooded my body—memories that weren’t mine, fights that my body hadn’t taken part in.

Lions roared. Harpies screamed. And manticores—with their human mouths and shark teeth—did something else, something unbearable and ungodly.

I processed the facts, but not fast enough, and the manticore’s cry reached my ears. It was like someone was taking a chain saw to my eardrums, making mincemeat of my brain. For the first time ever in this form, I felt something that resembled pain.

Blood poured out of my ears.

The others went down beside me, hands clasped over their ears, writhing in pain. I felt the warmth of blood on my face, trickling out of my nose, as the beast fired—one spine after another digging into my makeshift shield.

Skylar shoved something into my hands—the saw blade—and without thinking, I threw it. It cut through the air, a ring of silver light in the darkness.

I saw the moment it made contact. There was another scream and then silence—just the sound of a heavy object dropping down onto sand.

The manticore’s head.

“I thought that would come in handy,” Skylar said, satisfaction lacing her tone.

She’d already saved my life once here tonight, when she’d told me to duck. Whether or not her choice of weapon had made a difference in this kill, she’d already made good on her word that having them there would make the difference between life and death for me.

“I’m glad,” Skylar said fiercely. “I’d do it again.”

Sometimes, I thought, sparing a smile for my small blonde friend, crazy’s all you’ve got.

“Come on,” I said, ready to put this night behind us. “Let’s get this done.”

We managed to close the space between us and the building without straying from the path. The tracker in me could see the places where wheels and feet had tread before—safe places, in this rotting minefield.

Or at least, as safe as any place inside these gates could be.

How does the government not know about this place? I wondered. The simplest answer was probably that they did—or that they’d chosen not to. I consciously sidestepped that thought as we came up to the door. I was on the verge of kicking it in when it opened, and I found myself inches away from the one kind of adversary about whom my instincts had absolutely nothing to say.

Humans.

Even in the dim light of the evening, I recognized Rena’s lackeys from the school, and they recognized me. The fact that I was walking around when they’d left me for dead on the side of the road seemed like the kind of thing their type would take as an insult, but their faces remained completely impassive.

They didn’t draw their weapons.

They didn’t say a word.

They just waited.

That was when I noticed the light glow to the air.

“Fireflies,” Skylar said, thoroughly bewitched.

Not fireflies, I thought.

“Don’t look at it,” I ordered. Skylar smiled and tilted her head to the side. She walked right past me. I grabbed for her arm, but she pulled out of my grasp, following the tiny ball of light.

Beside me, I could feel Elliot and Bethany going slack, the tension melting out of their bodies as they took in the tiny dancing lights.

“They won’t remember a thing tomorrow,” one of the men in front of me commented. “Where they were, what happened … all they’ll remember are the lights.”

I cast my eyes downward, trying not to look directly at them myself.

Will-o’-the-wisps weren’t deadly. They didn’t feed on human flesh. They just confused people, led them off the path, made them feel like everything was all right, when it was anything but.

Even with my eyes cast downward, I could see Skylar tiptoeing farther and farther away.

“Skylar,” I said sharply, lifting my eyes to hers.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Pretty.”

I could feel the magic working its way into my system, but I shook it off.

I wasn’t safe.

These lights weren’t pretty.

I shouldn’t follow them….

“Well,” one of the men said. “Aren’t you going to help your friend?”

Turning your back on an enemy was always a mistake. Always. But Skylar was getting farther and farther away. Making a split-second decision, I turned and was halfway to her, my body blurring with inhuman speed, when one of the men I’d left behind drew his gun.

He took aim and fired.

Not at me.

Not at Skylar.

At her feet. I was fast, but the bullet was faster. It hit the dirt. I ran toward Skylar, ran toward her with everything I had, but my mind was still gummy from the will-o’-the-wisps, and the man in the suit had known exactly where to aim.

Undetonated mines.

I heard the explosion before I saw it. Flames lit up the night sky, and the force of it sent me flying backward—away from Skylar.

From what was left of her.

As I lay there on the ground, the smell of charred flesh told me that this time, Skylar wasn’t—couldn’t—be playing. Tears stung my eyes until the only thing I could see was the memory of her face the second before the mine detonated, the expression on her childlike features.

Bliss.