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Two guards yank me to my feet. They flank me, their heavy hands squeezing my upper arms, making my hands throb from lack of blood. I struggle, but that only makes their grip more vicious.
Tauro joins us. His smooth features and black eyes are unreadable. He looks at me without saying a word. I drop my gaze, unable to withstand his scrutiny.
At least he doesn’t know what caused me to freeze on the spot. I’m dying to look in Aydan’s direction, but I stare doggedly at Tauro’s lace-up shoes. Questions fly like confused bees inside my head.
Why is Aydan here?
Did James send him?
Is he here on an IgNiTe mission?
God, he has to be. He has to be!
The alternative is too horrible to contemplate. Damn, if only IgNiTe didn’t have to keep me in the dark, I would know what’s going on.
Out of the corner of my eye, I perceive Aydan. He’s moving through the food line, along two other guys. He’s in civilian clothes, like most of the people lounging in the terminal. He wears his customary black jeans and t-shirt.
“Well, let’s go,” I say, desperate to move on.
If Aydan’s here on a mission, I don’t want to risk giving him away. If he’s here as an actual member—
My throat tightens with sudden fierceness. I don’t . . . I don’t think I could take that.
“Why so eager to leave?” Tauro says in a suspicious voice. “Mr. Hailstone said I should get you dinner, remember? What would you prefer? Hamburger?” He gestures toward the fast-food area. “Pizza?” He slowly turns to face the line where Aydan stands.
“I’m not hungry,” I blurt out.
Tauro ignores me and carefully surveys what lies in front of him, which includes a glass counter stocked with greasy pizzas, a young server and three customers, counting Aydan at the front of the line.
“Get your hands off me, would you?” I fidget in hopes of calling Tauro’s attention back to me. It doesn’t work, and all I manage to do is piss off the living vice grips that clasp my arms. “Assholes,” I mumble.
Aydan pulls away from the counter, a plastic tray in tow. A large slice of pepperoni pizza and a drink sit on top. My heart hammers out of control.
He walks to a supply area and gets a set of plastic utensils, a straw and a handful of napkins. I can only assume he’s seen me and is deliberately ignoring me. Regardless, he’s going to have to look this way sooner or later. Tauro is obviously staring at him. From such a short distance, not noticing us at all would be a dead giveaway that he’s pretending. Others have noticed us as it is. He would have to be blind not to wonder why he’s suddenly become the center of attention.
My stomach climbs to my throat. Tension ripples across my shoulder.
Aydan turns away from the supplies, takes two steps, then stops. He does a slow double take at Tauro and frowns. His gaze drifts in my direction. His frown deepens. There’s no recognition in his eyes. None.
I try to tell myself this is good. This means he’s still Aydan and not a full-fledged Eklyptor, but that’s not necessarily true. He could be a new, promising member who doesn’t want to associate himself with the tainted Symbiot his host used to know.
“Do you know this girl?” Tauro demands of Aydan.
“No, sir,” he responds.
His familiar voice sends a thrill down my back. I feel betrayed, somehow, even though it’s stupid because this is exactly what I want from him, full-fledged or not.
“And you?” Tauro flags the other two guys in the line. “Do any of you know this girl?”
They give me the once-over and shake their heads, their expressions as blank as Aydan’s. Tauro grunts, not pleased at all. He knows someone’s lying. He just doesn’t know who. He turns away without a word and orders the guards to follow. They drag me away.
In spite of my desire to find out if Aydan’s still in control or has become a prisoner in his own mind, I move away with quick steps and no backward glance.
I debate whether to stay silent or say something, wondering which option would help confirm Tauro’s suspicions. In the end, I decide to continue my initial cynical pattern. “Paranoid much?”
Tauro ignores me, pulls out a radio and talks rapidly and quietly into it. I make out enough to realize he’s ordering someone to keep an eye on three men, one of them a new member by the name of Specter. I recognize one of Aydan’s user handles, the one he preferred before permanently changing it to “Dr. V.” Does the use of this name mean he’s still himself? I guess not. His agent could be using it in some messed up ironic twist.
I wonder if Tauro knows everyone’s name around here. Or has Aydan made himself notorious enough to be remembered?
Shit!
It takes a major effort to swallow the curse words that flood my mouth. As if the nightmare Luke just unloaded on me isn’t enough, now I have to worry about Aydan too?
Fifteen minutes later, I find myself sitting on a desk chair with a pizza dinner in front of me. I eat without appetite because I need the energy. It’s been a long, freakin’ day. When I finish, I wash everything down with a cold soda, clean my mouth with a beige napkin and push the tray away. This fills you up, but it pales in comparison to what Onyx serves. Elliot’s army’s cook and only decent Eklyptor I know occupies the body of a guy who used to be a five-star chef, and she’s using his culinary skills to the fullest, even she hates the maleness she also inherited from him.
My watch reads 11:46 P.M. I stand and look around at the small, windowless office once more. There is a calendar on the wall above a set of metal filing cabinets. The page is stuck on March—the month of The Takeover. On the opposite wall, the print of a landing plane hangs within a cheap black frame. There’s nothing else on the walls and nothing personal on the desk or filing cabinets. I suspect those things were removed and thrown in the garbage. Mementos of that sort mean nothing to these creatures. At least the beasts can’t rid themselves of their hosts’ memories. I find some satisfaction knowing that, in a small way, those trapped consciousnesses live on.
I walk to the door, put a hand on the nickel-plated doorknob and turn it ever so slightly. I’ve barely twisted it when a loud thump from the outside makes me jump back.
“Stay away from the door,” an angry voice says on the other side.
Oddly, my anxiety settles a little. This is the type of treatment I’m used to from Eklyptors—not Tauro’s courteous demeanor. This makes my hate flow like hot honey, just like it should.
I lower my head and try to look under the door, but there’s nothing to see unless I count the black, sealing strip that covers the narrow gap to the floor. Restless, I search the office, opening drawers in hopes of finding something that can be used as a weapon. Nothing.
Willing my powers to the surface, I stare at one of the metal cabinets and imagine it crashing through the door, crushing the guards in the process. It doesn’t move. I curse and plop on the desk chair.
Looking for an escape, I focus on my breathing and thought jumping. I don’t want to stay in this moment, this place, this life. I want to be elsewhere. Maybe in front of Lake Union under a moonlit sky.
Almost without thinking, I reach for my backpack, which was brought back along with my dinner and a note: “The Hailstone faction keeps its word.” I hug it to my chest and rest my cheek on it. Everything not resembling a weapon is still inside. I checked as soon as they left me alone.
The edge of despair draws nearer, pushing me toward self-pity, which isn’t far, all things considered. I wish I could sleep and quiet down the thoughts swirling through my mind, but that type of rest has evaded me for some time, even given the best of circumstances. And tonight isn’t even close to “the best” of anything. If I switch the perspective to “the worst”, however, today gets a medal.
I close my eyes and listen. There’s a heavy silence that, for a moment, makes me think I’m truly alone, maybe the only person left in the world.
A strange, vaguely familiar feeling brushes my skin. The hairs on my arms stand on end. My eyes spring open. My ears tune into silence, listening, listening, listening . . .
Thud.
Thud.
I jump to my feet, send the rolling chair flying against the wall. Backpack tight in my arms, I stare at the doorknob. It turns very slowly. My breath catches as expectation builds in my chest.
I don’t blink.
The door opens one inch at a time.
A familiar face pokes in. Our eyes lock. I press my lips together—doubt heavy on my shoulders—and hold back the wave of relief that wants to crash against me. I can’t trust him. Not yet.
“Marci?” Aydan pronounces my name exactly the way I would pronounce his if I could speak.
Marci, is that still you?
Marci, can I trust you?
Marci, are you still human?
All those questions inside a single utterance of my name. It’s hard to fathom. Maybe this doubt in his voice should serve as proof that he’s still my friend. No Eklyptor could ask this in quite the same way, could he?
Yes, he could! Yes, he would!
Aydan stands there, well aware of my own conundrum. His face is pale against his red lips. They stretch into a sad smile that doesn’t reach the depths of his black eyes.
“I guess you’re just gonna have to trust me and the fact that I haven’t killed you.” He offers me the same words I gave him the first time we met after I betrayed The Tank’s location to Whitehouse.
I don’t know why, but something breaks inside of me. I let the backpack fall to the desk, cover the distance between us and wrap my arms around him.
At the verge of tears, I press my face to his shoulder and hold on tight. He doesn’t say a thing, just holds me back until I grow back a skeleton and feel I can stand without his support.
When I pull away, our eyes meet. We exchange no words, but they’re not necessary.
I’m not alone anymore.
He lets me get my backpack, then interlaces his fingers with mine and pulls me out of the room.
We step over two fallen bodies, then run.