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After giving Kristen a third of my blood and a sack full of tissue samples, James takes me back to the main area and introduces me to a few people. They greet me courteously, but cautiously. I know the reasons they must distrust strangers and, in that sense, I find that being here isn’t much different than being at Elliot’s. Over there, everyone suspects you might be a Symbiot. Here, plain humans have no way of telling who is an Eklyptor and who isn’t, so they must be wary of everyone.
People around us begin to look more alert. They stand, stretch and leave their cots.
James checks his watch. “Are you hungry? We don’t have much to offer, but you’re welcome to whatever they’re serving for dinner.”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” I lower my head, feeling horrible. At Elliot’s, food has never been an issue beyond the inconvenient scarcity of a few items. In fact, I’ve eaten very well, better than I used to before The Takeover. My diet is well-balanced, with plenty of vegetables and fruits—none of the instant noodles or TV dinners that I used to “cook” when there was nothing else to eat around the house.
James puts a hand on my shoulder. “Your sacrifice needs not include going hungry. It goes way beyond something that small. Remember that.”
I try to shape my face into a blank mask. I hate being read so easily. Besides, sacrifices can’t be measured. Who is to put a price on what a person gives up?
Everyone forms a single file along the left wall, then disappears through a narrow door on the side of the warehouse.
“We connected this building with the one next door,” James says. “We serve two meals a day. Breakfast and dinner. Not optimal, but no one’s starving. For now. Your tips on supplies have been extremely helpful. Thanks to you we have intercepted several food trucks headed for Eklyptor bases. Those provisions have made a huge difference.”
I knew they needed the food. James had told me so, but I never imagined—
“Marci?”
A girl approaches me from the side, her steps tentative.
I don’t recognize her at first glance but, after a couple of seconds, her name takes shape in my lips: “Hannah.”
She gives me a huge smile and, as if unable to help herself, walks up to where I am and wraps me in a tight hug. I stand stiff as a rod and awkwardly pat her back.
Hannah pulls away after a moment, avoiding eye contact, the same way I do. “It’s good to see you,” she says. “I never thanked you for—”
“Hey, don’t mention it,” I rush out the words, wishing to put an end to the awkwardness.
“Hannah has turned out to be a great nurse,” James says. “She helps patch people up with some sort of magic that makes them heal pretty quickly.”
Her cheeks redden, and her blue eyes light up with the compliment. James gives me a quick wink that makes me realize the Symbiot secret is still safe here, otherwise Hannah would know about our accelerated healing powers.
James is about to add something when a loud, metallic knock reverberates through the warehouse. I jump. My hand flies to my gun. James takes a step forward, his shoulders tense, his stance meaningful, threatening. His piercing gray eyes are intent on the door through which we came in. Hannah and everyone still in the room stare at the door with wide eyes, frozen on the spot.
After checking through the small window on the door and testing what I assume are blood samples, the guards call out, “All clear!”
James’s shoulders lower at the exhale. Hannah takes a deep breath and allows a smile to her lips. A low murmur of relief fills the warehouse. The dread these people live in is palpable. As impossible as it seems, my hatred for Eklyptors intensifies. They have reduced us to a bunch of scared rabbits, burrowing in the depths of whatever hole we can find.
The door opens with a clank, two people in blindfolds step in, followed by two others. It takes me a moment to process the sense of relief that washes over me.
Aydan!
I take an involuntary step forward.
Blare and Clark are with Aydan and Rheema—she’s the second blindfolded person. Blare removes the covers from around their heads. Aydan rubs his eyes and blinks. They’re unfocused, at first, but as soon as they recover, they zero in on me. Even from this distance, I see his relief, a mirror of mine. He smiles, his eyes narrowing in a sign of contentment.
Without hesitation, he crosses the distance between us. I think he’s going to embrace me like Hannah did, but he stops abruptly, only three paces from where I stand.
James’s gaze goes from Aydan to me and back again. A current passes between us. It feels like electricity, and it’s so intense, I wonder if James can sense it, too.
“What are you doing here?” James asks. “You weren’t due back yet.” There is a slight note of humor in his voice, as if he already knows the answer.
To his credit, Aydan manages the situation with a cool demeanor. “Nothing now, I suppose. I imagine Marci has already given a full report.”
“Indeed she has,” James answers with a smile.
Rheema, Blare, and Clark step behind Aydan and stare at me in surprise.
My eyes lock with Clark’s. I haven’t seen him since the day Xave died. Laying eyes on him opens many old wounds in a single blow. He looks so much like his brother, tall and strong. And his eyes—even though they’re gray and not hazel—are the same in every other way: their shape, their expressiveness, the way they change color with each emotion.
“Marci,” he says my name with such longing that it breaks my heart. Apparently, my wounds aren’t the only ones that have opened up, recalling the painful memories of a past that haunts us.
“If it isn’t our favorite little spy,” Blare says, her specialized brand of sarcasm seemingly improved with time—like a good wine. Her once jet-black hair is now half blond from the roots. There are a few extra piercings on her brow and her military-style clothes have been altered to fit her emo look. There are leather buckles wrapped around her legs, threaded through holes in the pants. She wears a hot pink belt and a matching shirt under fatigues, so not the type of clothes I would imagine an explosives expert wearing.
“Blare,” James pronounces her name as a warning.
Her mouth twists in disgust. For a moment, she looks ready to tear me apart but, in the end, she spins on her heel and leaves.
“Don’t mind her,” Rheema says and gives me a light, welcoming hug. “She was already bitter before all of this, now she’s just plain evil. It’s good to see you.” Rhemma was always friendly with me and that doesn’t seem to have changed. Last time I saw her, she was fixing a Harley for me. I wonder what happened to it. She’s IgNiTe’s mechanic and keeps all vehicles and equipment running in tip-top shape.
“Thank you. Same here.” I return her hug, appreciating her warmth.
For a moment, we stand awkwardly, at a complete loss for words. Hannah wrings the seam of her oversized t-shirt between nervous fingers. Her big, blue eyes glance furtively at Aydan. But his gaze never leaves my face.
He looks like someone who’s holding back a million words, all charged with the meaning of a million more. He makes me feel afraid that anything I say won’t be enough.