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I make the drive back to downtown in a lonely daze. Hannah went with James after she tested 100% human. I watched them walk away, wishing I could switch places with her. My legs trembled as they disappeared over the crest of the steep street, and I heard James’s Harley roar to life on the other side. It took everything I am not to run toward them, begging to let me come.
Now, I’m headed south on Pacific Place, almost back to the place where She-Bird and Griffin lie dead—if no one has found their bodies, that is. If they have, I’m sure the situation at Whitehouse HQ has gotten pretty interesting.
When I get to the parking lot where I stashed my Kawasaki, I pull in and park the SUV next to the delivery van I stole several weeks ago. I hop out and check the van. It looks untouched besides the four punctured tires and busted headlights I personally inflicted on it—which so far have been enough to keep anyone from repurposing it.
Nervously, I peek through the driver side window to confirm my bike is still inside the windowless delivery area. I spot the tip of a handlebar and breathe out a pent up breath. It’s ridiculous how relieved I am at the sight of it, especially when I could repurpose something much better out of the thousands of abandoned vehicles throughout the city. But I don’t have much from my previous life, especially things that link me to Xave the way my bike does.
He helped me make the choice when I bought it. Afterward, we worked on the custom details and adjustments I wanted, then rode it through Seattle together. I can still feel his arms around me when I take it for a spin and close my eyes against the wind. He’s been gone for some time now, but the way my chest tightens at his memory makes it seem as if it was only yesterday that I lost him. I miss him so much. I turn, press my back to the van and throw my head back. Shutting my eyes against the now-gray sky, I inhale and try to regain my composure.
I pull myself back into the moment and remember James and how his words dismantled me. I don’t know why I thought having his acceptance would make things easier.
It doesn’t.
On the contrary, I feel as if the strength that has fueled me all this time just ran empty. Puff, gone up into the atmosphere, much like the air from the van’s tires. From the beginning, a big part of my drive against Eklyptors has been the desire to prove myself to James, to show him I’m good enough to be part of his team. Now, it seems I’ve been wasting my time and, all along, he’s considered me worthy, capable.
I exhale, unclench my fists which have tightened of their own accord, and find myself feeling sort of . . . aimless. I don’t need to prove myself to James anymore. I never did, it seems. I chuckle at the irony.
Could I leave now? Could I abandon this side of the fight and go back to IgNiTe? I think of the test James talked about, of the possibility of regaining my humanity in the eyes of my Symbiot friends. Would they blame me for wanting to go back? Would they accept me in spite of everything?
Or could I quit altogether? Lay down my weapons and let others do the fighting? Could I do that without disappointing James and the others, without feeling I failed them? Would they understand I’ve already given so, so much?
I laugh a short, derisive laugh.
Who am I kidding?
I may not have to prove myself to James anymore, but he did say he needs me and asked for forgiveness for what he still expects of me. But even if that wasn’t the case, there’s that small promise of revenge I made to myself. I have a score to settle with Elliot Whitehouse and Luke Hailstone. I’m not going anywhere.
Yes, James’s acceptance is satisfying, but it will pale in comparison to the pleasure of making Elliot and Luke pay for all they’ve taken from me.
For that, I can be courageous.
For that, I can be strong.