Extracted (12 page)

“I have a dress like that,” she says. “Freddy Ford, Fall Collection?”

I nod.

She shifts her weight onto one foot and puts her hands on her hips. It’s a pose that reminds me a lot of Kara.

“I was told it was one of a kind.” She’s glaring now, her stare drilling into me.

My mouth twitches. “It’s a knockoff,” I whisper.

She tilts her head, accepting my answer but not looking happy about it. “It’s a good one. Who are you, anyway?”

I hold out my hand. “I’m April. I’m here with the wedding planner.”

She looks at my hand but doesn’t take it. “Uh-huh.”

“Have you seen her?” I ask, not having to fake looking nervous.

She turns to the pink girls. “Have any of you seen Diane?”

They shake their heads.

One of the ladies on the lounge speaks up and I can tell from the slur in her voice it isn’t her first glass of the bubbly liquid. “They are doing the bride’s pictures down in the rose garden.”

The golden ballerina turns back to me. “Shouldn’t you know that? I mean, you have one of those headsets.” She points at my Earwig. I reach up and touch it gently.

“Yeah, it isn’t working. That’s why I’m looking for her. To let her know.”

She gives me an unimpressed look and walks over to the other bridesmaids. As I turn to leave, I hear one of them chuckle and say, “Izzy, you are such a brat.”

* * *

The rose garden is actually on the roof, two floors above the bridal floor. After slipping back into the elevator, I hit the button for the roof. The elevator stops on the eighth floor and a handful of groomsmen pile in. I’m immediately gagging on the heavy smell of cologne and stale beer. They are oblivious to me as they talk.

“This is going to be the best wedding prank ever,” the tallest one of the group says with a cocky grin.

“I know. Dude, they will never see it coming.”

“Your sister is gonna kill you, man,” another jokes.

The tall boy shrugs and tugs at his bowtie. “It’s really a gift for Brandon. He’s so uptight.”

“Well, your gift should loosen up his girdle a little.”

They all laugh and the doors slide open.

“Come on, Doug,” one of the boys says, motioning to the tall one.

“Doug Cartwright?” I must have said the name out loud because one of the groomsmen shoots me a duh look.

Before I can follow the groomsmen and ask about this prank, I’m accosted by a short man in a grey tux. He’s portly and, judging by the way he’s walking and his cute little blue-framed glasses, probably not part of the wedding party.

“Excuse me, who are you? This is a closed floor.”

I hold out my hand, which he stares at. What is it with these people and handshakes?

“I’m Heather. I’m with the caterer?” He looks blank, so I sigh. “There’s an issue with the cake. Something about too much humidity in the kitchen. The icing is starting to melt.”

His little hands actually fly to his face and flutter in front of his mouth. He looks like he’s going to cry.

“They told me to get Diane and have her go talk to the kitchen manager about bringing the temperature down a few notches,” I finish quickly. His face has gone beet red and I’m almost feeling bad.

“Oh, yes. Of course. I’ll take care of it right away. Tell Rodrigo that Diane is on it,” he blurts before scurrying over to a stern-looking woman in a long powder-blue dress.

I catch a glance of the groomsmen talking as they wait for the bride to finish the photos with her parents. Doug Cartwright makes an exploding gesture with his hands and a deep ball of dread forms in my gut. An exploding gift. A prank gone wrong. That’s what is going to kill the bride and groom. I turn, stepping back into the elevator and pressing the button. The gifts should be in the reception hall. I just need to find the one that’s a ticking bomb.

* * *

When I get down to the reception hall, I find the gift table, and a little bit of panic stutters through my heart. It’s stacked high with presents. I take a step forward, determined to search every single one if I have to, but a hand closes around my arm, tugging me backward.

“That is my dress. And Diane doesn’t have an assistant named April. So who are you, really?”

I turn, ready to make up whatever lie I have to, but behind her I see the clock ticking slowly. I’ve wasted half an hour already. Any minute now, the bride and groom will be saying their vows and then they’ll be here.

“Look,” I say, pulling my arm free, “there’s a bomb in one of these boxes. And I need to find it.”

She looks at me, her blue eyes cold as ice. “Security!”

I grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall. “Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m here to help the bride and groom. Now, Doug Cartwright has rigged one of those boxes to explode as a prank, but something is going to go really, really wrong with that. You can help me find the gift it’s hidden in, or I can knock you out and shove you in a closet. Your choice.”

She can’t talk, so she just nods vigorously.

I let go and she gasps for a second. “That sounds like something Doug would do. Idiot.”

I head over to the massive stack and start rummaging. “It has to have his name on it, right?”

She looks at me as I toss boxes aside. “And you are sure there’s a problem with it, that it’ll hurt someone?”

“I am.”

“It’s not in there. They had bomb dogs in here earlier, sniffing for explosives. He was going to bring it down after the ceremony. It’s in his room.”

I stare at her. Her face has gone pale, making her look even more waif-thin somehow.

She shrugs. “I heard them talking about it. It sounded funny.”

I put the gift in my hands back on the table. “Can you take me to his room?”

She nods and motions for me to follow her.

The groom’s floor is completely trashed. Tables and chairs are overturned in the hallway, room service trays all over the floor. Toilet paper hangs from every possible surface like garland. She leads me to a door and opens her tiny clutch purse, pulling out a key card. I can’t help raising my eyebrow at her.

“What?” she says defensively. “It’s a wedding. Besides, he just needed someone to talk to. He just lost his offer from FSU and he doesn’t think anyone else is going to pick him up after blowing the playoff game like he did.”

I look her over. “How old are you? Fifteen?”

“Sixteen.”

“And he’s what now, eighteen?”

“So what?”

I look at her but say nothing. Two years doesn’t seem like that big a difference, but something inside me feels almost protective of her. Silly, really. She isn’t that much younger than me. Maybe it’s because she looks so frail and wispy. I really want to give this chick a sandwich.

I shrug. “Whatever.”

She unlocks the door and we go in. This room makes the hallway look downright spotless. What is it about rich kids destroying hotel rooms?

“He completely rock-starred this room. What’s your name, anyway?” I ask, feeling stupid as she wades through the mess behind me.

“Isabelle Dumont. Izzy for short.”

“So, where do you think this thing is hidden?” I ask, rummaging through the closet.

She jerks her head toward the bathroom. “Tub, I think.”

I step forward and the door to the room bursts open. Doug, all six-foot-three, two hundred twenty pounds of him, is suddenly face to face with me.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Then, seeing my partner in crime, his expression softens just a little. “Izzy? What the hell?”

I snap my fingers in his face. “The exploding gift, where is it?”

His face hardens. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

I cut him off with a knee to the groin. He doubles over in pain. “Don’t make me ask again, Doug. The gift. Give it to me, now.”

I should expect what happens next, but I don’t. His head still down, Doug runs at me, knocking me off my feet and taking me to the ground. Behind me, I hear Izzy scream.

I manage to get my leg up and between us and I kick him off me into the wall. The framed painting on the wall falls and crashes into his head.

“Doug, how do I disarm the device?” I grab his face in my hand. There’s a cut on his forehead; it’s small but bleeding like a river. “Doug, tell me.”

He cusses and smacks my hand away. Behind me, Izzy is holding the box, her eyes full of tears. “Please,” she begs.

He mumbles something rude. I grab his face harder, until he’s looking me right in the eye. “Doug Cartwright, you think your career is over now, but I’m here to tell you that, in six weeks, you are going to get picked up by UCLA and in four years you are going to go as the number-one draft pick to one of the greatest football franchises of all time.” How many times did I have to listen to Ethan go on and on about this kid either botching or single-handedly saving a game? Too many to count. But now, I’m glad I’d half-paid attention. “You will be one of the greatest quarterbacks in the history of the game. Do not screw that up by being a tool today, do you hear me? I’m opening this box right now and you can either help me do it without hurting anyone, or I swear to you, I will blow us all sky high, get it?”

He closes one eye, smiles, and flips me off. Sighing, I drop him and he passes out. Taking the box from Izzy, I head for the bathroom. Setting it in the tub, I carefully pull off the bow and slowly lift the lid.

The lid blows off the box and a flash of light blinds me. My ears are ringing. For a second I can’t breathe. Then my vision slowly returns. There’s still a ringing in my ears, but I can hear Izzy behind me.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. It was just a flash bang. Not fun, but not lethal either.

I shake my head, using the sink to get to my feet. “That wasn’t it. They are still in trouble.”

I race down the hall and into the elevator with Izzy at my heels. The world is still muffled, the spots barely clearing my vision when the doors slide open.

The reception is outside. We make it to the hallway just before the final pink ballerina walks through the doors into the garden area, where grey clouds have all but blotted out the sunshine.

“Izzy! There you are. I was so worried! Where were you?” the bride demands, her relief quickly replaced by irritation as Izzy scoots out from behind me and takes her place in the lineup. And where is Doug? That useless idiot…”

I lean in close. “Izzy, something is still going to happen here. They aren’t safe. I didn’t stop anything.”

She ignores me and marches forward on cue. I reach out, but she’s gone. A large security guard grabs me from behind, holding me back as the music changes and the bride steps out. As soon as she’s gone, Diane pulls the headset out of her ear and turns her bitter glare at me.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she demands.

What can I say? I struggle, but it’s no use. A flash of light and a clap of thunder split the air. The guard drops me and I fall to my feet for only a second before rushing out the door. The bride is lying on the ground, her white dress singed black and smoking. The groom has fallen next to her. His eyes are open, lifeless. His short hair has burned to his scalp; his face is red and blistering. Some of the guests are cowering, others are screaming and running. Many are groping blindly and crying. On the ground, a few feet from the bride, Izzy has been blown back against the wall. Her dress is scorched, her eyes closed. I move over to her and reach down, feeling for a pulse. Then I catch it, slow and uneven under my fingers.

The maid of honor goes missing, Flynn had said.

Scooping her up, I back through the doors into the main lobby, where people are panicking. No one tries to stop me as I walk her across the street to the park where Flynn waits.

He carefully takes her from me and sets her in the grass at my feet, checking her vitals.

“Is she okay?” I manage, still coughing out the words.

“She’ll be fine. You did it, Ember. Well done.”

I want to be happy, but all I feel is guilty. Dirty. “You didn’t tell me they were struck by lightning! How exactly was I supposed to prevent that?”

He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “You weren’t.”

“But you told me to—”

“I told you to save who you could. And you did. You saved her.”

“But the others…” I want to cry. It isn’t fair. A wedding is supposed to be the best day of people’s lives, not the last.

Flynn looks up and takes my hand. Pushing up my sleeve, he exposes my scars. “We can’t save everyone, Ember. Even when we want to. Even when we try to. You understand this?”

“What about her?”

Flynn looks down. “She’s coming with me. She’s going to be one of us.”

“But I thought she…” I stop myself before the words are even fully formed in my mouth. Of course she goes missing. She’s one of us.

He must see the realization worm its way into my brain because he drops my arm.

“She’ll have scars, too. Like mine,” I say quietly, looking at the angry red burns up her bare arm. “Will I know her, back at the Institute?”

He shakes his head. “She won’t remember you, Ember. Or any of this. Her life as it was ends here, and her new life will begin on the other side. You can’t ever tell her the truth about what happened here today.”

That doesn’t really answer my question. I wrack my brain, but I can’t remember ever seeing her in the Institute.

He stands up, pulling her limp body into his arms. “You still have to make the return trip, Ember. And it’s not like when we rift as a group, it’s harder.

“Harder how?”

“That is something you will have to discover for yourself, I’m afraid. But I can say this—no matter what you see or hear, keep focused on the Tether. Just try to block everything else out.”

I think about the lure I felt inside the stream. And I’m so tired. Maybe too tired to make it. But I take as deep a breath as I can manage and pull away, standing on my own.

“You should go back to the exact spot you entered from,” he advises, readjusting the girl so she’s over his shoulder.

“How will I find it?” I glance back to the general area I’d come from.

“You’ll find it.” He winks at me, and I can’t help feeling like I’ve done something terrible. I could have gotten them all out, I’m sure of it. I could have saved them all.