Authors: T.M. Franklin
Night melted into day as the sun appeared low in the sky and cast the city in a warm glow. It would have been beautiful if she hadn’t been so tired.
“Sloan Bartok. Great,” Caleb muttered. “Do you know the other one?”
Ava searched the man’s features, his dark skin, black hair, and short but bulky build. “No. Never seen him before. He must be Amrit, the weather manipulator.” She gathered her gift. The pendant Caleb gave her so long ago vibrated against her skin. While her body ached and her head pounded, her power still responded eagerly. She tried not to think about the fact that she was made for this. Made to fight.
To kill.
She caught Sophie’s eye a few feet away, Isaiah slumped at her feet, her back against a low wall.
They were just as tired as she was. Isaiah let the blood drip from his nose, not even bothering to wipe it away. He got up as Sophie stiffened.
Ava felt it, too.
They’re coming.
Max—she recognized him now—and Jae, no longer shifting, thanks to Isaiah, but still a good fighter. Same could be said for the super Veil, Lucien, as well as Christopher. He had recovered from the last bout and was ready to fight again.
Ava rubbed at the healing burn on her forearm, wincing a little at the reminder that she needed to keep him in her sights.
And now the dark newcomer and the killer—Amrit and Sloan.
Six of the Twelve against three, plus two Protectors.
Ava didn’t like the odds, but she had to remind herself that their purpose wasn’t really to win the fight. Not that they could.
Not yet, at least.
“Ready?” Caleb looked worried as he searched her face. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready. I still don’t like the idea of leaving them out here, though.”
“Yeah, well I don’t like the idea of bringing you in there, so—”
A fireball exploded overhead, and all hell broke loose.
Sophie released a series of ice balls, each bigger than the last, then a slab of ice the size of a refrigerator.
Christopher met a few with fireballs of his own and easily dodged the rest.
Ava took advantage of his distraction to throw him against Jae and slam them both into the side of a house as hard as she could.
Tiernan darted out from the nearby restaurant he’d been using as cover and launched himself at Lucien, and the two exchanged jarring blows in the middle of the street.
The wind picked up suddenly. A flash of lightning crackled across the sky.
A swell of power licked at Ava’s skin, and she followed it back, tracking it to the newcomer standing a few feet from Tiernan and Jae, arms lifted and head thrown back.
Before she could do anything, Sophie launched a bowling ball-sized piece of ice toward him.
Ava added her gift to the mix, giving the ball an extra push. It hit Amrit in the stomach and knocked him off his feet.
He flew through the air and landed in the street with a loud grunt.
The lightning stopped and the wind quieted, but picked up again as he got to his feet.
“Is it time yet?” Ava grumbled, bracing herself against the dust stabbing her cheeks as she zeroed in on the stone wall Isaiah had been resting against.
They were trying to cause as little damage to the city as possible, but there wasn’t much to work with in a city so neat and clean.
What I wouldn’t give for garbage cans or some discarded lumber.
Ava pushed her gift at the wall, hefting two large stones that broke free and hurling them toward the weather guy.
He dodged one, but the other caught him in the leg, causing another pause in the inclement weather.
She was about to throw a couple more pieces of the wall when Caleb barreled down the street, tackling the weather manipulator while he tried to catch his breath.
Sophie turned her attention to Sloan, who was standing calmly in the midst of it all, looking in Ava’s direction.
As soon as their eyes locked, Ava doubled over with a gasp, clutching at her stomach and dropping to a knee as a sharp pain shot through her belly. She heard Sloan snicker quietly, and the pain intensified, radiating into her chest and making it hard to breathe. Her lungs were wrapped in iron bands, tightening with every exhale, and black spots swam at the edge of her vision as she fell to all fours. Her body wanted to retch, but she couldn’t catch her breath enough to complete the task. Instead, bile climbed into her throat and saliva dripped from her slack jaw to the ground. She was so dizzy, so panicked, that her gift clawed to the surface, and she let it go.
The impact knocked Sloan almost two blocks, but he tucked and rolled and was back on his feet in a second.
Ava tried to catch her breath, blinking when a hand closed on her arm.
Isaiah
.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes wide and frightened.
She nodded, still unable to speak.
Isaiah set his jaw and turned toward Sloan.
The killer froze in the middle of the street for several seconds. He visibly shook it off just in time to get coldcocked by Tiernan and drop like a brick.
Caleb appeared beside her. “It’s time,” he said and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. “You ready?”
She wasn’t sure who he was asking, but it was Isaiah who replied. “We’ll keep them here as long as we can.”
Caleb pulled Ava close, and she indulged in the moment of their mingling gifts before the wind picked up again. Isaiah turned back to join the fight, and the world spun, whirling into a blended mass of color before it disappeared around them.
They rematerialized inside the central building, and Caleb yanked her back into an empty doorway before he looked up and down the hall to make sure it was clear. Satisfied, he grabbed her hand, popping a couple of R-cubes and handing her one as he led her silently down the hall.
She wiped saliva and blood from her face with her sleeve and tried to catch her breath. She felt him—Borré drew nearer with every step, and she knew he felt it, too. They had known it would be a risk, but her only hope was that the remaining Twelve—Emma, Evan, and the one with the technology gift, Mara—would be close enough to him that they masked her approach.
They rounded a corner, and Ava stopped abruptly, her instincts finally clearing enough to detect a mass of Race nearby.
“It’s okay,” Caleb whispered. “It’s them.”
Sure enough, Gideon and Madeleine appeared at the far end of the hall, followed by the rest of the Council, Tyra, Adam, the dampener, and a handful of others Ava assumed were the Half-Breeds.
“Are my parents okay?” she asked without prelude. “Lucy?”
Gideon nodded. “They’re safe. We sent them out the way they came. Joe said he’d get them back to the house, and they’d hole up there until this is all over.”
Ava let out a relieved breath and turned her attention to the task at hand as they headed toward the surveillance room. “We need to move quickly. Only three of the Twelve are with Borré right now, but the others will figure out what we’re up to at any minute.”
Gideon deferred to Madeleine to lead the way.
“We’ll shift in,” Caleb said quietly, pulling Ava close. “Catch them by surprise.”
Gideon nodded, and Caleb and Ava disappeared, reappearing a second later inside the surveillance room.
They were clustered around Evan—Borré, Emma, Andreas, and Mara—but none looked surprised to see the couple.
“Ah, daughter,” Borré said with a smile. “We’ve been expe—”
Ava threw a chair at him, but Borré sidestepped it easily. Emma’s gift prodded at her brain, and she turned against her sister, shoving Emma toward the wall with her gift while throwing another chair at Borré.
Caleb vanished and reappeared next to Andreas. He punched the man twice, knocking him to the floor just as the others poured through the doors.
She held Emma against the wall, pushing her a little higher with each step as she approached Borré. A light flared out of the wall and an electric shock hit her and knocked her to her knees.
Mara
.
They had them outnumbered, though, and in a moment Mara was down, Adam keeping her gift under control now that Evan was no longer a threat.
His vision cleared, and the boy yelled out that Protectors were on the way.
Ava grinned.
Gideon and Tyra had Emma by the arms. The Protectors would be there any moment, and Borré would be taken into custody. Once he was gone, they’d go about securing the rest of the Twelve and then—
“You can’t think I didn’t see this coming,” Borré said, smiling creepily at her. “You remember I told you your brother Jae was a shifter like your Caleb?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Well, he’s not
exactly
like him. You’re all a bit . . .
more
, aren’t you?” His gaze drifted to the surveillance room door, where Ava could hear the distinct sounds of fighting coming from the other side.
How did he call them back so quickly?
“Your brothers should be along any moment,” he said with slow wink. “Once they’ve cleaned up the mess outside.”
Ava turned panicked eyes toward Caleb, trusting he could read her as well as she hoped.
He disappeared.
“Seems your boy didn’t want to stick around for the fun,” Borré said as Sloan Bartok walked through the doors and turned his gaze on Gideon and Madeleine.
They both clutched their stomachs and fell to the floor, writhing in pain, and Emma walked sedately to Borré’s side.
“Yes, you’re all so very gifted,” Borré said, stroking Emma’s hair lovingly. “Sloan here can control bodily functions, muscle function, respiration . . .”
Gideon gasped for breath as if in demonstration.
“Jae can shift large groups of people for unheard distances. Comes in quite handy, as I’m sure you can imagine. The lovely Mara will provide much needed financial support, thanks to her rather unusual gift.” Borré moved toward Ava, Emma close at his side. “Such power is what’s needed to lead people like ours, you see. It’s the only way.”
Ava glared at him. “
Our
power. You use our power to make yourself some kind of king.”
Borré tipped his head. “But we share,” he said. “It’s what family does. You share your power with me. I share my power with you.”
“Share?” Ava spat. “What about our mothers? Did you share with them, too? Are they fighting for you now?” She glanced toward the doors.
Borré laughed. “Sadly, your mothers gave their lives for the cause,” he said, although he didn’t seem sad at all. “They didn’t truly see their place in this new world.”
“What?” Emma whispered, shock clearly written on her face. “You told me my mother left me. She gave me to you.”
Borré touched her cheek. “She did give you to me, but she was nothing truly special. Not like you. Not like your brothers and sisters.” He turned his attention back to Ava. “No, your mother and the others were simply a means to an end.
This
end.”
Ava looked at Andreas fighting to get to his feet. “And what about him? Did you promise to share with him, too?”
Borré laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not one of us.”
Andreas bristled. “But you said—you promised . . . ”
“I promised a place for you,” Borré said, dismissing him offhand. “You
assumed
it would be a place of importance.”
“But—” Andreas shook his head, his face growing red. “But I helped you. You couldn’t have done this without me!”
“And you will be rewarded,” Borré said as though talking to a child. “Unlike the rest of the Council, you’ll be allowed to remain free.” He turned away and started toward the door.
“But you said I’d be rich! You promised me power!” Andreas shouted. “You can’t do this to me. You need me!”
Borré froze then spun on his heel to face Andreas.
Ava watched wide-eyed, trying to listen to the sounds in the hall at the same time.
A thud.
A shout.
A whimper.
Andreas threw himself at Borré, fists clenched, but fell to the floor, clutching his stomach. Sloan stood over him, watching impassively as the Council member curled into himself. Borré held up a hand, and Sloan tipped his head in acknowledgement. He stepped back, and Andreas drew a deep breath, rolling onto his back as the pain eased. Borré looked down at the panting man then slowly lifted his hand to rest it on Emma’s head. Emma closed her eyes, shivering slightly.
“I don’t
need
you,” Borré said quietly. “As a matter of fact, you’ve become more of a liability than an asset with your whining and your greed.” His fingers tightened in her hair as he accessed her gift, taking her power to use against Andreas.
He cried out, curling up again and pressing his hands to his head. “What are you doing? Stop!” he groaned.
“It’s not all about you, you know,” Borré said mockingly. “This is about so much more than you. But then the Council always was more concerned about securing its position than about the Race.”