My heart jumps into my throat when Nik falls from the dissolved window. At least that’s what seems to have happened; it just disappeared. Poof, no more. Is it wrong that I’m glad he’s gone? Yes. But I can’t help it. That jerk is responsible for so much. Cynnie’s beaten face, Jax’s ill temper, Xane . . . damn, now I can’t find out where he took Xane. What he did to him, or if my friend’s okay.
A shout comes from Jax, a direct mirror of the one still tearing from Manvyke; pure horror. Maybe I’m not so glad after all. With the councilor distracted, I roll out of his reach, pain radiating through every part of me with my sliced palm the epicenter. Each ragged breath is felt in every muscle. A groan slips through my lips. Climbing to my feet hurts almost as much and my arms twist around my stomach trying to stifle the feeling that hurts so bad.
Jax drops to his knees, facing the window that’s no longer there and I’m torn between him and Annie. The desire to race to his side and throw my arms around him, tell him it will all be okay, is brutally strong. But as Will walks toward him, I turn back to my mother, who still sits on that stupid stool like a canary on its perch. I circle around the glass cage even though I already know there’s no way to open it. I can’t find a door now, any easier than I could before.
Her gaze follows me and I whisper, “How do I open this thing?”
“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Get out now while you have the chance.”
“Just shut up,” I tell her. “Shut the hell up and let me get you out of here.”
Why she’s so desperate to stay here is a mystery I’m not unraveling now. After a moment of silence, she says, “The power shuts off somehow and then this section,” her voice sounds a little thick as she points at the opposite side to where I stand, “slides up.”
Using the hand that doesn’t sting like hell, I search for the power switch as Manvyke’s outburst fades, but doesn’t completely stop. Surely I’ve been searching for ages; I need to find it quickly. We might outnumber Manvyke four to one now, but we’ve got to get out of here before his sorrow turns to anger or numbers won’t mean a thing.
Where the hell is this freaking switch? Nothing here other than the glass bars, and running my hand over the cage to search would risk the knee-buckling pain. Or . . . maybe the switch is not on the actual structure. I scan the wall nearby. There has got to be something there, but there’s nothing visible. This is hopeless. I run my hands along the wall.
A whooshing gush of air pushes against me and pulse hammering, I swing back around.
It vanished.
Just like the window, the entire cage is gone, only now a milky haze hangs in the air. I rush straight to my mother and haul her to her feet. Her arms ensnare me, but now isn’t the time for reunions. We’ve got to get out of here. I seek out Jax, and Will’s still with him, both of them just across the other side of the cage with that ancient-looking staff in Jax’s hand. It must be the other key. But where the heck is Lilly? Jax’s gaze latches onto mine and he stands straighter, tipping his head toward the door. He’s right; we need to go, now. But we need Lilly and there she is, crouched over Manvyke, her hand on his back. My breath jams and I just about choke on the moisture in my mouth.
Jax clears his throat and she looks up from comforting our enemy. Whatever she’s doing, it’s the last thing I thought I’d ever see; Lilly showing compassion to Garrett’s killer. Her eyes widen then flick toward the step up to the hall before locking on mine. It’s not comfort Lilly’s providing, but distraction. Well, that makes a lot more sense.
Glancing at my companions, I mimic Lilly’s eye roll. They must get what I mean because Will and Jax both move toward the steps. But my mother stops, a slight frown creasing her brow. Whatever the heck it is, I don’t care. Lilly and I have this under control, she needs to move, so I shoo her forward. Jax’s eyes meet mine again and his expression mirrors my mother’s. What the heck? Widening my eyes and jutting my chin, I hope he knows that I’m signaling: Go, get her to safety. And thank god, he understands: Jax ushers her out of the room, his brows still drawn, but Will doesn’t budge. Not until Jax whispers in his ear, and Will scowls. Come on, you guys. I’m more than capable. Move it! Jaw set and shoulders tense, they both disappear and no sooner than the boys have her out of the room, Manvyke lifts his head up, his eyes wild.
Holy cow.
Lilly bolts straight to the door, her hand snatching my arm to pull me along with her. As we run down the corridor, she tries to port, but it doesn’t work. We don’t even move. The bands may as well just be the sweatbands they look like.
Manvyke roars.
My pulse pounds in my ears and I don’t let go of Lilly’s hand as we run right out of that apartment, to the waiting elevator. Jax’s arm blocks the door from closing and the second Lilly and I are in he removes it and the door snaps shut just as Manvyke bursts into the tiny foyer.
“Try porting,” I yell at Lilly. “Try it again.”
She grabs my hand and I take my mother’s despite the stinging pain and bloody mess of my right palm. The black nothing of slipping through space has never felt so welcome. Relief has never been sweeter. We’re actually safe.
We land in the port room and I jump back off the mat to make room for Jax and Will. My mother coos, raising my wounded hand, but my attention is locked on the empty port mart.
They should be right behind us.
Time stretches into infinity and anxiety pulses through my heart. They should be here already.
“Anamae, we need to deal with this hand.”
I tug it away. I’m not leaving this spot, not until they’re here and maybe not even then. I need to make sure Jax is okay after what just happened to his brother, because he sure didn’t sound all right. The soft hum of people talking isn’t enough to drag my attention away. It must have been at least three minutes now and they still haven’t ported in. Something’s gone wrong. Maybe the port band didn’t work, maybe they decided to tie up a loose end. Oh, dear god, I hope Manvyke didn’t catch them. My chest tightens and it’s just about time for a brown paper bag to breath into, when finally the boys blink into the room.
Jax flicks Will’s hand off his shoulder, his gaze flying to me. My breath gusts out and my entire body feels like the strings holding it together snap completely. His stare holds firm; strong, intense and all Jax: guarded. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but relief fills me, this I can deal with.
Without breaking our eye contact he crosses the room, stopping short before he reaches me. His green eyes drop to my hand, his brows draw tight creating a crinkle between them. I thought he couldn’t care less about me anymore, but maybe, just maybe I was wrong.
“What happened?” he says.
“Yeah?” Suddenly Will’s at my side, pulling my hand into his and examining it, just like my mother did. Then, like a wall going up, Jax’s expression slackens to indifferent. He shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Well?” Will asks.
“Nothing. I grabbed the wrong end of a blade because I wasn’t thinking.”
“Come on, you need Martha.” Will pushes me toward the door.
I pull my hand back. The cut isn’t so bad it can’t wait. What I need is Jax, not Martha. I have so much to tell him and if it doesn’t happen now, it might be too late. I can’t lose him again, not now that he’s back. If he thinks I’m safe . . . I just . . . what if he leaves again?
Annie stands near the window looking cornered by Beau, her shoulders still stiff and chin still high. I can’t think of her as Mom. She hasn’t been a mother to me since the day she disappeared out of our lives. That’s something I need to figure out, but she’s safe and that’s what’s important for now. All the rest can wait until later; right now, Jax is my priority.
Before I’ve finished scanning the room I know.
I’m too late. Jax is gone.
***
Will hovers by my side the whole time Martha sees to my ruined hand, asking her a million questions about how bad it is, how it will recover, if I’ll lose the use of any tendons, because some were apparently severed. The cut was much deeper than I’d realized, slicing diagonally across my palm. So much for the whole palm reading thing, if I was that way inclined. My lifeline is cut right in half and I’m not even game to peek at my loveline. It’s probably nonexistent.
Martha uses some weird liquid of Collective origins, instead of stitches, force feeds me a disgusting concoction which she says will help with the pain—personally, I’m a little skeptical—and instructs me to get some rest. After thanking her, I leave the common room and head upstairs with Will beside me, still prattling on about something. Quite frankly I’m too tired to keep up. Jax left again and I’m not sure how to cope with that. Or with the hollowness hanging inside of me that wasn’t there last time. Maybe it’s because I’ve realized my mistake. Will is my best friend and he’ll never be more than that, but Jax is . . . not.
Something jabs my arm.
“Earth to Anamae, are you there?” Will asks.
“Huh?” I blink and roll my eyes around to clear them. “Sorry, I think I’m already asleep.”
He chuckles, drawing me out of my daze; we’re already halfway up the stairs and not only is my vision not clear, neither is my head. It’s a little foggy, like everything swims in a pleasant, sleepy haze. Probably the effects of Martha’s brew.
“It’s not important anyway,” he says.
I’m such a jerk. I turn to him as we reach the top of the steps. “Of course it’s important. What were you saying?”
He shrugs. “I was thinking about that staff—amazing how it just disintegrated the glass.”
That’s what he was talking about? I hold his glance, but his slips away after a moment. He’s lying. “Yeah, it was pretty amazing.”
As much as I hated Nik, the image of him falling makes me feel sick. Death isn’t pleasant, even if it happens to your worst enemy.
“Smart of Jax to use it on that strange cage Manvyke had your mom in.”
I push open the door to the dorm. “That’s what happened? I thought I must have found the switch.”
He raises his eyebrows and jabs me again. “I know you’re clever, but no. It wasn’t you.”
“Whatever,” I whisper. It’s still the middle of the night and people are asleep. My sights slide straight to Jax’s empty bed and I shouldn’t be disappointed, but a tiny part of me was clinging to the hope that he would be here already, sleeping off our huge night. It was silly; I’ve given him no reason to stay and he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be here. A sigh slips out of me and pulling the door to, I make my way to my bed, glimpsing Cynnie and her friend Harris, who both sleep peacefully. I have to tell her about Xane . . .
Will grabs my hand and pulls me back around. “I know you love him and I’m okay with that. I just want you to be happy.”
I sigh again. Everything’s so darn complicated. “I want you to be happy too.”
Will holds my stare. “I will be, Mae.”