The Revealed Page 15
“Why are you doing this?” I scream at him as he pins me beneath him.
Jeremy kneels over me, slipping his hands around my throat and squeezing.
He’s so calm. “It’s too easy, really. I kill you. Westerfield kills your father.” He applies more pressure, and I scramble against his hold, hands flailing, trying to push him off. “We blame your death on The Revealed. We blame your father’s death on the Eastern European Sector. The world turns to us as the heroes. Like taking candy from a baby.”
I choke and spots begin to dance in my field of vision.
Westerfield? He’s working for Westerfield?
Not The Revealed.
“Roderick Westerfield used your family like pawns, and now you’re all going to die. I’ve spent years following your bratty ass around, and finally it’s all worth it.”
Self-defense.
What did Elias teach me?
Kai.
I remember the first day when we were in class. Don’t turn around. Swing forward and kick. The elbow is the strongest. Take the attacker by surprise. For a fraction of a second I allow my body to relax on the floor, giving in to Jeremy’s hold. It’s enough to make him think he’s won.
It’s all I need.
I press my chin down, loosening his hold so I can breathe and throw my fist up, connecting with his stomach.
It isn’t enough to break his grip, but it’s enough to distract him. I latch on to his wrists and press down against the veins, squeezing his pressure points until the pain is too much and he loosens his grip. As soon as he starts to let go, I grab one of his arms with both hands and twist his wrist around until I hear a snap. The sound makes my stomach lurch, but there isn’t time to think about it. If I stop now, I’m dead.
Jeremy bellows, swears, and recoils. His wrist lies limply, and he’s screaming in agony, cradling the broken joint with his other hand. I scramble from underneath him in a crawl.
But he attacks once more, latching onto my foot with his uninjured hand. I stumble. With his strong grip, he pulls himself toward me, trying to pin me to the ground again. I kick off his hand, push myself up, and manage to run, though he’s close behind. A broken wrist doesn’t stop him from running. If he has as much adrenaline coursing through him as I do, he won’t feel the pain anyway.
I wildly sprint into the foyer toward the front door. I yank on it, but it doesn’t budge. Jeremy’s footsteps are heavy down the hall. One after the other, getting closer.
My hands are shaking so much that I’m fumbling with the locks. Finally, I give up and run upstairs.
I race down the hallway, pushing myself even though my muscles burn. The house is dark. All I see are shadows dancing on the walls. I grip the door frame of my room and push my way through. I don’t know how far away Jeremy is. But I don’t hear anything. The house is silent, though it feels deadly instead of peaceful.
I pick up the phone on my desk, but there’s no dial tone, of course. My cell phone is somewhere downstairs, abandoned while I was trying to stop Jeremy from strangling me.
I need a weapon. Something to protect myself. I fumble around in the darkness, feeling for anything I can use. My eyes flit between my searching hands and the doorway. I try to stay as quiet as possible, but I’m shaking too much, rattling everything I touch: makeup, cans of hair spray, brushes.
I move to the side of the dresser, feeling my way around until the shadow in the doorway stops me cold.
He moves slowly toward me, still keeping his smug composure despite his broken wrist. The Jeremy I knew is gone, replaced by this monster that was hidden under the surface all along.
I grab for anything on the dresser. Perfume. Lotion. Not very effective weapons, but I try anyway, throwing the bottles at him, hoping I will at least distract him. All the while I’m backing up toward the window.
The balcony doors are unlocked, and I push them open, heading toward the railing.
“You’re making this too easy,” Jeremy says. Ghostly moonlight hits him as he steps outside after me. “I push you over the edge and you’re done.” He leans to grab me, and I barely skirt out of the way.
“Jeremy, listen.” I try to reason with him, holding up my hands. “You … you don’t have to do this. M … my … family will give you whatever you want.”
“No!” he yells so loudly his voice echoes. “Your family is worthless. Roderick Westerfield is the one who has what I want, and all I have to do is get rid of you. Enough with the games.” Jeremy pulls out his gun—the gun he was given to protect me. “I didn’t want to resort to this. But you haven’t really left me a choice, have you?” He cocks the gun.
And I stop thinking.
Thoughts take too much time. All I can do now is react.
I reach out for the weapon, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking the gun aside as the shot rings out.
Then I run.
Back down the hallway, down the stairs, to the front door.
I look back over my shoulder.
Jeremy is running at me with such feral anger it pierces the darkness. He raises the gun again.
My fingers shake as I undo the locks.
A bullet zings next to me and hits the door. I yelp—a pathetically helpless noise, and manage to throw open the door and run outside.
I swallow the pain in my throat. I’m wheezing, struggling to breathe.
Jeremy is still behind me, but I don’t have time to look. My heart is beating so franticly I can’t hear anything.
I glance over my shoulder and stumble. My ankle twists and pain shoots up my leg.
My fingers dig into the soil as I try to pull myself up. My leg is on fire.
Jeremy catches up and steps in front of me, and I hear a gun cock. “Think of it this way, Lily. At least your death will actually do something significant—something you wouldn’t know anything about.”
My body tenses.
The gun blast echoes.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
There is no pain.
Something hits the dirt next to me.
Hands reach out to me, picking me up and pulling me close.
“It okay.” Kai’s voice is soft against my ear. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”
I glance up at him and then across the grass where Jeremy’s body lies in a motionless heap.
“He’s dead,” Kai assures me.
A sob escapes my throat, and I bury myself in Kai’s chest, shaking, still so afraid.
“Let’s get you out of here, okay?”
I nod against his chest and he picks me up, cradling me in his arms and carrying me to his car. He sets me down in the passenger seat and turns the heat on. Still, I am shivering. Tears slide down my cheeks, and I don’t have the energy to wipe them away.
“What?” I force a hysterical grin as Kai gets in next to me. “You’re not going to let me drive?”
“Not tonight.”
We pull back out onto the main road. I assume he’s taking me to his house. Instead, he turns in the opposite direction. Probably toward the hospital.
I just want to get away from this nightmare.
I close my eyes and sink into the seat. When I shut my eyes all I see is Jeremy’s face and his hands around my neck, intent on wringing the life out of me. I moan and try to steady my breathing.
Gently, Kai cups his hand over mine.
It works to calm some of my nerves, though I’m still rattled, and my ankle is throbbing.
“I’m going to take you somewhere safe, okay?”
I nod.
It’s probably best that I’m going to the hospital anyway. My ankle is definitely hurt, maybe broken, and my throat burns from Jeremy’s hands.
“What happened?” Kai asks.
“He was making me some tea. I found pictures in a drawer—pictures of everything. He’s the one who leaked that story about us to the press. He’s the one that put the bomb under my car. Kai,” I say, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction, “he’s working for your father.
Your dad’s planning on having my parents assassinated.”
Kai’s eyes narrow, but he stays very still.
I follow his gaze out along the road.
“How did you get to me so quickly?” I ask.
He lets the question hang in the air.
Suddenly, I realize where we are.
The fields.
“What are we doing here?” I ask. His actions don’t make any sense. And he won’t talk to me. I just want him to tell me what’s going on. Maybe he’s lost it? This could be some sort of creepy post-traumatic stress disorder from his mission, and he’s lost all rational thinking.
He comes around to my side of the car and picks me up.
“Kai—”
“It’s okay.” His voice is rough but gentle.
He carries me toward the center clearing.
“Kai?” I expect him to tell me what’s going on, but he’s silent. He doesn’t even look at me. “I think maybe someone should look at my ankle,” I say uneasily.
He pushes through the tall blades of grass, making his way to the center. The dusty smell of dried earth fills my nose, and I cough.
“What’s going on Kai?” The panic begins to rise again. “Just put me down, okay?”
He doesn’t.
And I’m not in a position to put up a fight.
He sets me down when we get to the middle of the circle, but he keeps his arm wrapped around me so that I can stand despite my ankle.
The night air is sharp and cold, and I’m shivering from the chill and leftover adrenaline.
“Kai, you’re freaking me out,” I say, staring around the clearing. “Will you at least say something?”
He shakes his head. “Lily, nothing’s like we thought. All of it’s a lie.”
“What’s a lie?” I ask hesitantly. “I know what your father is planning. I don’t blame you, okay? Just take me back. I need a doctor.”
This isn’t right. My skin is crawling, my legs are twitching with a need to flee.
“I want to go back, Kai.”
He stares out at the opposite end of the clearing, and I follow his gaze.
My eyes narrow, and then I hear it.
Something slaps through the stalks.
Swap. Swap.
Like dominoes falling, coming closer and closer.
Finally a wind breaks into the clearing, pushing me, knocking me.
And then I see them.
Shadows come through the stalks one by one in their inky black outfits, in perfect stride.
I stare at Kai, the betrayal sinking in.
“No!” I try to tear myself away from him but he holds me still.
He won’t look at me. I want to run, but he holds me tightly against his side. I push against him. “No!”
“Lily, you have to go with them,” he tells me.
“Kai, what are you doing?”
“You have to trust me,” he says.
A woman walks to the front of the group. She has striking blonde hair, which she keeps in a high ponytail. I remember her from the gala. Her eyes are deep blue. “It’s okay, Lily,” she tells me, holding out her hands, palms up as though she was in prayer.
“I won’t go with you!” I desperately try to pry Kai’s hand from my arm.
“This time, it isn’t a choice.”
I don’t have the energy to run anymore. Even if I could break away from Kai’s grip, I would only fall to the dirt. My ankle is too weak.
“Please don’t do this, Kai,” I beg, near hysteria. “Please just take me home. I just want to go home!”
“Hey.” Kai cups my face between his hands.
“No.” The word is hardly more than a whine and I keep crying, wishing this is all just a bad dream.
I feel someone place a hand on my shoulder, quickly followed by a sharp pinch on my forearm.
The world falls away, until all that’s left is green and gold, then blackness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The sound of wind beats in my ears, echoing around me.
The noise grows steadily louder and louder until it’s a scream inside my head. It blurs together, screeching around me, and instead of a steady pitch it breaks with an explosion.
I blink my eyes open and white light floods my vision.
The wind stops abruptly.
Everything is silent. Nothing moves around me. My eyelashes brush against one another as my vision adjusts. A soft, steady beep catches my attention, breaking the silence, and I turn my head in the direction of the sound.
I’m losing my hold on the place in my mind where I was before. It’s slipping, and I don’t want it to leave. I want to go back.
My eyes open. Instantly they are flooded with color. It’s too bright. Vivid color reflects off every surface.
“Where am I?” my lips try to form the words, but they end up a jumbled mush, slurred together incoherently.
No one answers. My eyes open more easily the next time. A shadow looms overhead, blocking the light; when it moves, the colors flicker against my pupils. Why isn’t the color going away? I don’t remember anything looking like this before. It’s harsh and bright and overwhelming.
I continue staring at the light, trying to focus on the rainbow in front of my eyes. Eventually, I see it isn’t a rainbow, but more a kaleidoscope, the light shattered and reflected as it would be through a lens, the colors bold and clear. So strikingly clear that it hurts to look at, but I still want to reach out and touch the light, feel it between my fingers.
A shadow passes over me, and the light dances.
“Everything looks strange,” I whisper.
“Don’t worry,” a friendly voice says, “everything is fine. Are you feeling any pain?”
I search my body. Arms. Legs. Chest. I try breathing. It comes easily. My eyes flutter once more.
“No.” But I still see dancing, vivid shapes around me. “No, I don’t feel anything.”
I’m in a hospital, but I can’t remember hurting myself. What do I remember last?
Nothing.
My mind is blank. White. Too bright.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?” the female voice says.
I manage to nod, though I’m distracted with my memories—or lack thereof. It isn’t that I forget. I just can’t seem to pinpoint specific moments. I vaguely recall being in my father’s office.
“What is your name?” the woman asks.
“Lily,” I say, absently rifling through my thoughts. What’s missing? I came home and it was dark out. There was a note taped to the gate.
“Lily what?” she asks gently.
Doesn’t she know? She’s a nurse after all. She’s probably looking at my chart right now.
“Lilith Atwood.”
And then there was a hand reaching through the gate.
“Where are you from?”
“Capitol City. I live in Capitol City.”
“How old are you?”
Jeremy grabbed me and….
“I’m—”
I’m eighteen.
The memory slams to the front of my mind. I sit up straight.
I’m not at a hospital.
The blonde woman stands in front of me. Her features are so angular and jutting, they cut through the light like a knife.
I take in my surroundings. A white bed. Silver, stainless steel walls. Equipment hanging on clips around the room. It looks like a hospital, but it isn’t. It definitely isn’t.
I grab the dark shirt I’m wearing and my hand touches something raised on the fabric—the symbol with a lick of flame looped into a circle, crossed with a defiant X. The silver embossing contrasts sharply with the black outfit. I want to rip it—tear the fabric off me. “Get it off!”
“Lily, please just wait while I—”
I swing my legs over the bed and head for the door. My first step on my right ankle is tentative, but it’s completely healed. I have no problem running. My heart pounds in my ears, and I have no idea whe
re I’m going. I need to find an exit. The door leads to a maze-like network of hallways, and I blindly begin to sprint down one.
My mind spins as I try to gain some sense of place. There are no windows. All I can see are stainless steel walls. I continue running even when I can no longer breathe. I bump into a few people all clad in black uniforms along the way and shove past them. There are long stretches of hallways that turn in patterns. This place is a maze of white light and stainless steel.
I sprint into some sort of open room, like a banquet hall. The ceiling stretches above me, at least twenty feet high. There are rows and rows of tables, a few people milling around. Four hallways split off in opposite directions around the room. Between the hallway entrances are tall windows.
It’s night outside.
I run to the closest window and throw my fists against it.
Instead of glass breaking, something cold seeps through my fingers. At first I think maybe the cold is the first sign of pain, and I’ve hurt myself. Instead, the cold continues to move through my veins, spilling out onto the glass.
I jerk my hand away and the ice melts instantly, dripping from my fingertips. I bring my hand only inches from my eyes and stare at it—more in horror than wonder.
Ice! Ice just came from my fingertips!
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, babe.”
I spin on my heels.
“Rory! What are you doing here? When did they take you?”
She raises an eyebrow and saunters toward me. She’s wearing the same black outfit with The Revealed’s symbol sealed across her heart.
I notice there are other people in the hall, dozens of them, all dressed like Rory … and me. They’re staring at me with looks of pity. Some are giggling. They recognize me, and my face heats as I realize my current situation, and the display I just put on for them. I must look crazy. But then I correct myself. I’m not the crazy one. These people are The Revealed. They’re the ones who should be embarrassed.
“Look back at the glass,” she tells me instead of answering my questions. “Look up.”
I stare back outside and can’t see anything. The only thing I’m able to make out is a small streak of light cascading down. The moon? But why does it look so weird and refracted?
A fish dances across the glass.