Toxic Heart (36 page)

“Ha!” Thomas throws his hands up in the air. “You’ve gone mad!”

I ignore him. “The mystics will be allowed to use their powers—”

“So they can kill us?” Kyle says, cutting me off. “Great idea, Aria.”

“No,” I say. “They can use them within reason—the city can establish laws and rules they will have to follow. There will be no more Roses and Fosters running Manhattan. We can let the people choose a new mayor, one with no ties to either of our families.”

There it is. The big compromise. It could work, I think—if I can convince Hunter that it’s the right move before he blows us all up.

Cheers and screams from above and below blend into a cacophony of sound. “Hunter,” I say. I’m about to go to him when my head pounds with pain.

I stumble forward, pressing my hands to my temples. Then I feel a vibration in my feet. My stomach lurches, and I double over in agony.

“Aria?” Turk says worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Kyle asks. He points his gun at Turk. “What did you do to her, mystic?”

Hunter spins around and rushes toward me. I feel his hands on my back, pulling me into his body. “Just breathe,” he tells me. My blood calms, and I can see straight again. The throbbing in my head begins to dull.

I bury my head in his chest and let him hold me the way I’ve
been longing for since I got back to Manhattan. He smells like sweat and smoke, but I don’t care. Once I’m in his arms, I remember how right it feels for us to be together, how our bodies are made for each other.

Tenderly, he leans forward and kisses me on the forehead, then presses his lips to each of my eyelids—faint ghostlike kisses that send chills down my spine and make my toes curl.

The chanting around us grows louder, more urgent. Hunter sucks in a breath, then says, “You’re right.”

I open my eyes and stare up at his face. He is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

“I was wrong,” he says. “All these people came to support you because they believe in what you’ve said. I should have listened to you from the start. But my mom …” His eyes well up with tears that spill over onto his cheeks. I wipe them away with my fingers. “She wouldn’t have wanted this. She wouldn’t have wanted war, and she wouldn’t approve of my plan.”

He takes a step back from me and turns to Kyle and Thomas. Then he raises his hands in surrender. “We rebels lay down our arms. There will be no bomb—today or ever.” Hunter looks at me and smiles—the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him in a long, long time. “As the mystic representative, I accept the terms of Aria’s proposition. I am truly sorry for my actions.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re sorry,” Thomas says. “A bomb?” He sighs. “I should have known never to trust a mystic.”

I grab Hunter’s hand. I’m proud of him, and relieved for the people of Manhattan.

Kyle, however, doesn’t seem satisfied. He lets out a guttural
laugh. In the blink of an eye, he raises a pistol—where did it come from?—and aims at Hunter. “Goodbye, mystic.”

Then he shoots.

The silver bullet spirals out from the cylinder.

Without thinking, I jump in front of Hunter, shielding him with my body.

I stifle a cry as the metal pierces my chest.

For a moment, everything is still.

The air around me seems to freeze, and I view the world in slow motion.

I attempt to drag my hands to my chest, but they’re terribly heavy, as though each one is weighted with a dozen bricks.

Kyle stands with his arm in the air, the gun still pointed at me. There’s an incredulous look on his face, his blond hair flapping in the wind.

Next to him, Thomas is saying something—or trying to say something, only his lips are moving so slowly that I can’t make out any words. The sounds coming from his mouth remind me of when Kiki and I used to record ourselves speaking and play the conversations back on our TouchMes, slowing down the speed so that we sounded like cartoon characters.

“Arriiiiiaaaaa,”
Thomas says.
“Arrrre yoooou ooookaaaay?”

It takes every ounce of strength I can muster to turn back and look at Hunter, whose mouth has formed a wide O of shock.

Hunter is reaching for me, but his arms are moving as if they’re smothered in marmalade. It feels like it will take him years to touch
me. Next to him is Turk, who appears to be falling forward, arms outstretched. It’s impossible to tell whether he or Hunter looks more upset.

Shouts from the surrounding buildings thin out, until I’m aware of a keen silence across the observatory deck, and nothing but white noise beyond that.

I stare down at my chest.

A dark plume has spread across the front of my shirt. It seeps into the material like a deadly flower opening its petals.

I can feel something tunneling inside me—the tiny bullet—spiraling its way through tendon and muscle and fat, navigating past my organs and the blood rushing through my veins.

It feels like a sparkler has gone off inside me. No pain—only sharp crackles and pops as the bullet tears through my chest.

The shot exits my back, ripping a hole the size of a dime through my flesh, dinging off a piece of the metal fencing along the edge of the observation deck.

The sound wakes me up, returning life to a normal speed.

The middle of my back, where the bullet exited, begins to itch. My entire body is covered with a prickly sensation. The blood that has been seeping out of my chest slows to a trickle. The ravaged skin around the bullet hole simmers; the wound expels a loud hiss as the skin heals itself.

I run my finger over the wound, but it’s solid pink flesh. I feel my back: it’s as if I’ve never been shot.

Hunter grabs my shoulders. “You’re alive,” he whispers into my ear. “How?”

Kyle is clearly shocked as well. “Aria. You’re still … here.”

“Yes,” I say. “I am.”

His pistol still trained on me, Kyle gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Impressive,” he says.

Hunter steps out from behind me, extending an open hand to Kyle. “So, about Aria’s plan?”

Kyle glances nervously from me to Hunter and Turk, then to Thomas. To my side, Jarek has emerged from his hiding place; he strides toward us with confidence, which only makes Kyle more nervous—he aims the gun every which way, until finally, he sighs and shoves his free hand into his pocket. He leaves Hunter’s hand dangling and turns to me.

“I gave you plenty of chances to come around, Aria,” Kyle says. “And you talk a good game—I’ll give you that. But your view of the future isn’t my view. And it’s certainly not our father’s.” He removes something small and black from his pocket and clips it over the barrel of his pistol. “If you’re not with me, Aria, then you’re against me. And if you’re against me, then you leave me no choice.”

Kyle raises the gun in the air and fires off a shot. A burst of red billows in the sky, mixing with the smog and forming a layer of light pink clouds that hover over us.

“Is that your idea of a light show?” Turk asks sarcastically.

Kyle grimaces. “Guards!” he yells. “Attack!”

They come from everywhere.

Soldiers descend on us, dressed like Kyle, in black uniforms with my family crest sewn over their hearts.

They burst through the doorway, heavy rifles in their hands. They pull themselves over the fence along the edge of the observation deck. I look closely and see ropes knotted to various sections
of the rail—how did I miss those before?—as soldiers climb up from the sides of the building and tumble onto the deck, spreading out to surround us, waiting for Kyle’s commands.

They plunge down from the sky, dropping out of open windows and off the bridges in the Aeries and triggering parachutes that balloon open into crimson canopies that carry them down, toward us.

One of the soldiers presses his gun into the small of Turk’s back.

Hunter raises his arms, about to blast him and start an all-out brawl, when Kyle makes a
tsk
ing noise. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Look around.” There must be nearly a hundred of my father’s soldiers on the deck.

“Ninety-five men,” Kyle says, as though he can tell what I’m thinking. “With two hundred more on backup.” He points his gun at Jarek. “Aria, you must have ingested a ton of Stic to heal that quickly. Should we play a game and see if your friend here can do the same?”

“No,” I say. “Don’t hurt him, Kyle.”

Kyle scratches his head with the tip of his pistol. “Oh, Aria. You love to play the patron saint of whininess. No more of that. Mom and Dad are on their way. They’re going to collect you and bring you home. We’ll deal with the fallout from all of this like rational human beings, instead of following your mystic everybody-is-equal mumbo-jumbo.” He lets out a sharp breath. “Everybody is
not
equal.”

“I’ll second that,” Thomas says. I’m surprised he hasn’t been more vocal. That he’s letting Kyle call the shots. No doubt he’s
considering his options, biding his time. Knowing Thomas, he has something up his sleeve … I’m just not sure what.

“I’m serious, Aria.” Kyle sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles—a piercing shriek. Every soldier on the deck steps forward menacingly, closing in. Kyle is actually grinning. I’m sure this is giving him quite the thrill.

The guard who has his gun in Turk’s back throws him to the ground, and drags him over to Kyle. Two other guards cover Jarek, yanking his arms behind his back and pushing him headfirst to the stone floor.

“Aria,” Hunter says. “What do you want to do?”

But I can barely hear him.

I feel even stronger now, like I could break an entire bridge in half with my bare hands.

My vision is sharper than ever. I can see every grain of dirt on the deck, every crevice and line, every thread in the Rose family crest on the uniforms. I can make out the faces of all the guards, the curve of their eyes and the slant of their noses, whether their lips are thin or thick, their pants wrinkled or crisp, their boots too tight.

I can see all the way down to the canals. I can even make out four men crowded into a gondola, hands cupped to their mouths, shouting,
“Peace! Now!”

My arms and legs weigh nothing. I am made entirely of air, of energy.

Nothing inside me hurts. There is no longer a single bruise on my body. I could break a human skull with one fingertip. I could rip through a man’s chest with two.

I have so much strength inside me that I don’t know what to do with it.

I’ve got to let it out or I might explode.

“There’s no escape,” Hunter whispers into my ear. “I came alone—I didn’t bring any of the rebels because I didn’t think I’d be leaving here alive. But I didn’t know you’d show up, Aria. I won’t let your parents take you from me.” He glances toward the edge of the deck. “Maybe we should just throw ourselves over and hope we can figure something out on the way down.”

I stare at the wrinkled parachutes scattered across the roof like used candy wrappers. If they can bring soldiers from the Aeries down here, why can’t I go up
there
?

I meet Hunter’s eyes—eyes the color of pure water, the most beautiful blue. I take his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers.

I no longer get a jolt of energy when we touch.

But he does. “What—”

“Shh,” I say. “Let’s not jump off the building. I’ve got a better idea.”

I squeeze his hand and close my eyes.
Up
, I think.

The burning starts in my toes. It shoots up my feet, into my legs, twisting through my entire body and filling me with light. I am dead and alive—someone is poking me with fire and chilling me with ice.

My skin bristles with goose bumps.

My body smolders with heat.

My toes feel like they’re resting on a thousand burning coals.

I open my eyes and thrust my free arm into the sky. Jets of electric green energy blast from my fingertips.

Kyle’s gun clatters to the ground. “Holy …”

The soldiers stare at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see my parents opening the metal door to the observatory deck.

Go
, Turk mouths to me.
I’ll be fine
.

Hunter’s mouth is agape as I take his hand and together we rocket into the sky.