Deviants (8 page)

I want to hit him. “Even if I believe that my father is alive—which I don’t—why should I listen to anything he says? He’s a murderer.”

He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, and I risk a quick glance at his eyes, dark and intense.

My fingernails dig into my palms but I don’t release my fists. Right now, I can use all the anger I can find. “I know people,” I tell Burn. “Important people. People who could have you arrested and expunged.”

The side of his mouth cocks up. “You mean your little boyfriend on the roof?”

He’s mocking me. I stare into his eyes and lock my thoughts onto his heart, but he closes his eyes and shakes his head before I have a chance.

He reopens his eyes and glares. “Not as easy to kill as a rat, am I?”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Leave me alone. Stay away from me and Drake or you’ll find out just how easily I can kill.”

Looking him in the eyes, I focus my anger on his lungs and tune into the organs’ spongy pockets. I squeeze, pressing out the air, and although he stays still and doesn’t try to fight or look away, I can tell that he feels the power of my curse. His chest heaves in sharp thrusts as he tries to draw breaths.

“Stop it,” he says low and hard. “If you kill me, your brother will die.”

I look away to release him and he sucks in a few hard breaths as I rock, dizzy from using my curse, even if only for seconds.

He catches me before I fall. “Careful.”

I pull my arm away. “I’m going to call the Compliance Department. In a few minutes this alley will be swarming with Comps.”

He grabs my arm. “Don’t.” There’s a fire in his eyes, and fear snakes down my spine. But I throw my shoulders back.

The veins on his temple bulge and his face reddens.

My back strikes the wall behind me before I realize I’ve moved. I thought Burn was intense when he was calm, but as his anger builds, it’s like he’s growing taller, wider, filling out the previously baggy clothes. Fear grabs hold of my chest, paralyzes me for an instant before adrenaline surges. I run.

But I slam into him—somehow he ran faster or leaped over me, and his huge body blocks my path. He lifts me by the shoulders and sets me down a few feet back.

“What are you?” I ask, my voice hardly as loud as a breath.

“Glory.” He looks down, his eyes dark. “I have a gift, just like you. We were Chosen.”

“Chosen for what?”

A beam of light shines down the alley.

“Who’s there?” an amplified voice calls.

Burn wraps his strong arm around my waist. “Hold on.” He leaps, holding me tight, and grabs a handle hanging
above us. Something clicks and we accelerate upward. Air rushes against my ears, obliterating the Comps’ shouts from below. My arms are strapped around Burn’s neck, but I have no memory of putting them there.

Whatever he’s holding pulls us up the side of the building so quickly that the surface blurs. We decelerate as we near the roof, and before we’ve fully stopped, he releases me onto a metal landing jutting out from the building.

“Get up.” He unhooks the contraption that pulled us up and clips it under his coat.

I stand and he grabs me, crushing me against him. He jumps across the street to another roof. We land, hard, and loose gravel crunches beneath his boots.

His muscles flex against my body as he runs. I’ve never imagined a person could be as solid as a concrete wall, yet fluid.

“How?” My breath is gone and the word’s barely audible.

“Up there. We’ve got him surrounded.” Comps’ voices shout in the darkness, echoing off the walls and the sky. I can’t place their locations as searchlights bounce off buildings and bridges around us. Fighting to find my bearings, I spot the windowless gray walls of the Compliance Building to my right. We went north from the alley; my Pent is west and south.

“Ready?”

“Where are we going?” I ask, but without answering he leaps.

We land on another rooftop and he barely breaks stride. “Don’t choke me,” he says.

I release his neck and adjust my hold, unable to reach fully around his broad chest. He jumps and I cling, my fingers clutching his coat.

We land on another roof at least two stories down, and he grunts. My teeth ache from the impact.

But he doesn’t stop. He runs and jumps again. We fly across another alley.

Midair, I slide several inches, terrified his grip will fail, but it doesn’t. It’s as if his arm’s melded to my waist, holding me against the heat of his body.

We land. “I could use some help here.” He adjusts his hold on me as he runs.

I lock my legs around his ribs and tighten my grip on his shoulders.

He leaps again, then again, then again, and I resist the urge to close my eyes as we move across Haven, virtually flying from building to building—so many I’ve lost count. I search for landmarks, no longer sure where I am.

A spotlight strikes us, blinding me for an instant.

“Crap.” Burn skids along a rooftop, his boots sliding on the fine gravel as the building’s edge rushes toward us. We’re going to shoot off.

We stop. There’s nothing between us and the narrow alley—many stories below. Burn teeters, madly waving the arm that’s not holding me.

It doesn’t work.

His muscles contract as we fall.

Plummeting, I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. I close my eyes tight and prepare myself for the
end.

Instead, a clang then the shrill screech of metal against metal fills my ears. Trying to figure out where the sound came from, I begin to slip from his grasp. His arm tightens. Looking up, I discover we’re dangling. Burn’s other arm holds a ladder on the brick building opposite from the one we fell off.

“Can you climb?” He lifts me to the ladder before waiting for an answer. “Go. Run. Hide. I’ll find you.” And with that, he drops from the ladder.

A chill hits my body as he departs. Darkness engulfs him and I can’t see where he lands or if he survives. My hands grip the ladder so tightly my knuckles turn white.

A spotlight sweeps across the building below me, and I climb the ladder then scramble into the first open space I find—a narrow corridor with doors every five or six feet. There’s no light, but the smell of cooking meat means this building’s residential. Not hearing any movement, I sit and lean my head against the wall, panting, resting my hands on the wooden floor.

What just happened? I’ve never heard of a Deviant as strong as Burn existing. My waist feels tender where he gripped me, but it’s hard to deny that his intentions were to save, not to hurt me. Not that I trust him. I can’t.

Rustling comes from behind a door across the hall.

I push to my feet and run forward. Something catches the toe of my shoe. My stomach rises in my throat as I’m thrown forward and slam into the floorboards. Pain shoots up my arms and knees, but I can’t afford to survey the damage. A door opens behind me, so I get up and stumble forward, hoping
that I’ll find a staircase or bridge at the end of the hall.

Another door opens. “In here.” A woman beckons but I shake my head. She might be an Auditor.

Faint light comes in from an opening at the end of the hall. I stumble toward it. When I get there, I almost lose my balance. I’m at least fifteen stories from the ground. Above, the sky is high, sloping to the left and darkened for night. Given its height and slope, I must be about a quarter mile to the east of the Hub.

A thick rope lies at my feet, tied to a girder. Without other choices I bend down and turn, grabbing the rope and walking down the outside of the building. Two floors down, the building’s shape changes, and I’m left dangling about five feet away from the wall. Even if I swing, I couldn’t use the building or my feet to help my descent anymore. Hand over hand, I lower myself, searching in the darkness for openings.

My feet hit a knot and I rest for a moment before beginning to lower myself again, only to discover the knot is at the end of the rope. There’s nowhere left to go. Using my arms, I pull myself up a few feet and scramble to find the knot with my feet, but my muscles won’t cooperate. They burn and scream, and the skin on my hands is slick with sweat, or possibly blood.

I look around me. No openings. Then down. Nothing.

Hands cramping, I slip down the rope as my legs flail in nothingness. My throat tightens but I can’t give up.

What use is a rope to nowhere? No use. And there’s no piece of rope, no scrap of metal, no piece of fabric unused in
Haven.

I spin my head around, searching. Surely if I swing, then push off the side of this building, there must be somewhere to leap to, but I can’t see where. The next building is too far away and even if I could get there, it looks like sheer concrete.

Looking down, a sliver of light glints off a surface only ten or fifteen feet below. Blinking rapidly, then squinting, I try to bring it into focus but it’s gone into the darkness.

My hands slip. I panic then let them slide until I’m holding the knot. My palms burn, my hands cramp. I close my eyes to think. Even if I can hold on until the sun’s light reveals what’s below me—doubtful—Comps will patrol at some point. There’s no chance I can hold on much longer. Besides, I need to get home to Drake. There must be something below this rope.

I let go and drop.

Slam
. My feet strike something with a loud clank. Pain shoots up from my ankle. I’ve twisted it but I’ve landed. And lived. My throat pinches. If I’d died or been arrested, what would have happened to Drake? I can’t afford to dwell on that now.

Bending, I explore my surroundings in the darkness and discover slatted metal beneath my feet. I’m on a balcony, or a landing, jutting out from the side of the building. Crawling I find the wall, then a sheet of wood covering what used to be a window. It won’t budge, and a chain and padlock explain why.

Great
. Continuing to fumble, I crawl back to the balcony’s edge and discover a lever. My heart sprints as I run my hands over what I’m quite sure is the top of a ladder that will drop
down from this platform.

I pull the lever and the sound of clanging metal echoes in the quiet alleyway. With no way to silence it, I move down the ladder, hoping to race the noise and escape from whomever might hear. The last thing I need is for someone to come out to investigate, or call the Comps.

At the bottom of the ladder, it’s still dark, but my eyes have adjusted to reveal the top of what looks like the door into the building. I must be near the ground.

I drop and land, knees bent, rolling to the side to absorb the impact. My ankle screams in protest, as do the scrapes, but I’m off the building; I’ve hit the surface. Relief floods my body, but I can’t afford to rest. With all the leaps Burn made, I don’t know where I am, but it won’t take me long to figure that out. I have a fighting chance to get home. I wonder if Burn’s been as lucky.

Who cares?
It’s safer for Drake and me if he gets expunged.

But I can’t count on his being caught, and he must know where we live. I need a new place to hide Drake.

Worse, Burn’s not the only danger we face. Someone in Management knows about Drake, and even if Cal believes he can warn us before the Comps come, I can’t be certain. I can’t risk Drake’s life on Cal’s assurances.

We are no longer safe.

CHAPTER EIGHT

^S
WEATING, HEART RACING
, I’m outside the dome, surrounded by Shredders. They’ve got me. I struggle to get free but someone grips my shoulder.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says. “You’re dreaming.”

I blink as light fills the space. The anxiety of last night’s escape from the Comps and my meeting with Burn must have impacted my dreams. But I’m safe in our room. It was Drake’s hand on my shoulder. His shirt’s off and a cup of water and a cloth sit beside him. He’s been washing.

As the puzzle pieces fall together, I keep my gaze on his forehead and will my heart rate to slow.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice. “I was asleep when you came in last night.”

“I’m fine.” I look down and wince. My ankle is purple and swollen, and my scraped knees and hands left blood marks on my blanket. Those won’t come out even if I wash them today, and I can’t. I’m due in GT.

“You missed curfew.” Drake reaches for his shirt.

“So?” I turn my ankle in small circles, trying to block out the pain and stifle the emotions brought on by my dream.

“Don’t take crazy chances, Glory.”

Anger rises up and my glare locks on his. Instantly, his armor appears like scales of iron covering his torso. Ashamed, I look down.

He drags himself back onto his mattress and turns from me, crossing his arms over his chest. “No need to hurt me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He spins around. “Sorry’s not good enough. You need to learn to control that.”

I leap to my feet, holding back a cry as my ankle protests. “Like you know how to control
your
Deviance?”

He squares his jaw. “I didn’t just try to hurt you.”

Guilt rises in my throat. “I’m sorry. You know I’d never hurt you. Let’s drop it, okay?”

He nods and someone knocks. It’s probably just Jayma, but what if it’s Burn? It might be too late to move Drake.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“Glory.” It’s Cal. “Open the door.”

I spin around but Drake is already pulling on his long-sleeved shirt, even though his armor has disappeared. He pulls his blanket over his legs, arranging them to look natural.

“Just a minute.” I pat down my hair, and then scold myself. Who cares about my hair?

“Turn out the light,” I whisper to Drake. When he does, I limp, taking short breaths, and then open the door a crack. Cal’s leaning at the door’s side, his shirt tight against his arm muscles. He moves to enter but I put my hand on his chest and push back, sliding out the small opening and into the hall.

“Hi.” His voice is deep and husky, and the sound of it
sends a thrill through me. I can’t believe I want him to kiss me again under these circumstances.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

Hurt and shock flash in his eyes.