Elliot’s golden eyes go over the crowd, then stop at the spilled drinks and food. His mouth curls in distaste. He smooths his gray suit as if he’s been soiled by association. Lyra and Dillon move into my field of vision among the other curious onlookers. Elliot’s gaze settles on Tusks for a moment. The mammoth creature seems to shrink several inches. An anxious grunt escapes through his nose as his dime-sized eyes stare at his leader’s polished shoes.
At last, Elliot’s eyes settle on me. The expression of disgust on his face doubles. “I had quite forgotten about you,” he says.
I stare at his shoes, too, even though I want to crawl under the table and make myself invisible; the way I might have if it wasn’t for Tusks, The Brutish Boar.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find out you’re causing trouble.” Disdain drips from Elliot’s tone.
What? So I get the blame for this?
Tusks stretches back to his normal height.
My anger gathers, boiling down to a single point. It feels powerful, like a laser beam I could use to sever Elliot’s head off. My heart hammers. My face grows hot. I could kill him now, tear those creepy eyes out, even if his freaks make a feast out of me afterward. I take a step forward.
Lyra and Dillon move to flank Elliot.
“This way, please,” Lyra says, pointing to the back of the room where a handful of empty tables sit above the rest on a sort of dais.
Elliot’s attention snaps away from me, and he leaves as if I’ve blinked out of existence. Tusks looks put out. My anger finds itself trapped, and I feel as if it might blow through the top of my head, spilling brain matter everywhere.
I step back and slip from the crowd as everyone follows Elliot like a magnet they can’t resist. He climbs onto the raised dining area and faces his followers.
A shiver crawls up my back, and I notice the temperature has dropped a few degrees. Cold air blows through the overhead vents. Elliot fusses with the cuffs of his shirt, then the sleeve of his jacket. It’s a strange habit I’ve noticed before. It makes him look uncomfortable in his fancy suit—odd considering the fact he’s always dressed like he’s going to a state dinner.
He addresses the crowd, around eighty Eklyptors of his personal army. “The fight beyond these walls persists. You, my generals and captains, continue to direct the troops, purging Seattle as well as other key cities in which we have strongholds. Some are doing better than others. London’s Takeover is a great example of efficiency from which you can all learn. I wish to visit, so I expect improvements on this end as soon as possible, so I may do so.”
A thick-skinned man near me mumbles under his breath. “It’s an island, of course it was easy.” A few around him grumble in approval.
“I’m disappointed at the inability to crush the resistance. These IgNiTe rebels need to be dealt with sooner rather than later. We have waited long enough to get here. Are you not ready to cherish the spoils of this centuries-old struggle?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Several pump their fists in the air.
Centuries? Have they really been planning to take humans over that long? All while we killed each other through God knows how many wars? How is it possible to have been so blind?
“Several cities have been particularly troublesome,” Elliot continues, “though none as troublesome as this. IgNiTe has succeeded in recruiting too many people.”
My heart beats harder at this news. It isn’t new, but coming from Elliot’s lips it feels more real. If he’s worried, it means I can at least allow myself a few cocky smiles, even as I rinse his dishes.
“Our progress in converting the rest of the population is not satisfactory!” The veins behind his ridiculous, ever-present cravat bulge like ropes.
Converting? What are they? Evangelists? They’re a revolting, parasitic infection. Nothing more. Nothing less. They’re infecting us, contaminating us, robbing us. They need to call things by their name.
Elliot paces, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. “This is why, we’ve had a cease in hostilities with the Hailstone faction. It is counterproductive to battle each other over territories that haven’t been properly cleansed. This is why we will be combining and focusing our efforts with them until further notice.”
Protests go around the room.
“Silence!” Elliot commands. “We have come too far to risk failure. Humans might be weak, but they are resourceful. We cannot underestimate them. There are rumors about a vaccine, even a cure against us.”
“What? No way!” the guy next to me says. Murmurs move in a wave across the room.
The world of my past, the one I try to picture every night, seems to lift out of the fog that always obscures it.
A Cure?
Is it truly possible? Could there be a cure already? Did Kristen finally do it? My heart thuds and thuds, each pump trying to resuscitate my dying faith.
“It is my belief that, at the moment, that is all they are, rumors,” Elliot says with conviction. “And we need to ensure it stays that way. Consequently, our interim alliance with Hailstone. I will hold a meeting with their leader tomorrow. This is our course of action until further notice. Understood?”
Reluctant grumbles are the only response to his question.
“Understood?” he repeats, punctuating each syllable.
Everyone changes their tune, filling the room with forced positivity.
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“Understood, Sir.”
I ease away from the crowd, back toward the kitchen. A resolute feeling swells in my chest. IgNiTe is fighting, others are fighting, fiercely enough to prompt Whitehouse and Hailstone to worry about their success and form an alliance. Every human out there—whether as part of a group or alone—is making a difference, so why can’t I?
It was feeble to think I should leave this place if James didn’t call me, didn’t ask me to be part of his team again. But it really doesn’t matter if I’m with him or not. There’s no way I would give less than everyone else is giving. So even if I have to do it by myself, even if my efforts don’t go a long way, I will stay and find a way to make a difference.
Every drop counts. If we must bleed to win, my blood is as red as any.