Unravel Me (34 page)

He’s on the ground.

He’s choking, gasping, writhing on the floor until he goes limp, until he can hardly
breathe and then he’s still, too still, and I think I’m screaming, I keep touching
my lips to see where this sound is coming from and I’m on my knees. I’m trying to
shake him awake but he’s not moving, he’s not responding and I have no idea what just
happened.

I have no idea if Kenji is dead.

I’m definitely screaming.

Arms are pulling me up off the floor and I hear voices and sounds I don’t care to
recognize because all I know is that this can’t happen, not to Kenji, not to my funny,
complicated friend who keeps secrets behind his smiles and I’m ripping away from the
hands holding me back and I’m blind, I’m bolting into the dining hall and a hundred
blurry faces blend into the background because the only one I want to see is wearing
a navy-blue blazer and headful of dreads tied into a ponytail.

“Castle!” I’m screaming. I’m still screaming. I may have fallen to the floor, I’m
not sure, but I can tell my kneecaps are starting to hurt and I don’t care I don’t
care I don’t care—“Castle! It’s Kenji—he’s—
please
—”

I’ve never seen Castle run before.

He charges through the room at an inhuman speed, past me and into the hall. Everyone
in the room is up, frantic, some shouting, panicked, and I’m chasing Castle back into
the tunnel and Kenji is still there. Still limp. Still.

Too still.

“Where are the girls?” Castle is shouting. “Someone—get the girls!” He’s cradling
Kenji’s head, trying to pull Kenji’s heavy body into his arms and I’ve never heard
him like this before, not even when he talked about our hostages, not even when he
talked about what Anderson has done to the civilians. I look around and see the members
of Omega Point standing all around us, pain carved into their features and so many
of them have already started crying, clutching at each other and I realize I never
fully recognized Kenji. I didn’t understand the reach of his authority. I’d never
really seen just how much he means to the people in this room.

How much they love him.

I blink and Adam is one of 50 different people trying to help carry Kenji and now
they’re running, they’re hoping against hope and someone is saying, “They’ve gone
to the medical wing! They’re preparing a bed for him!” And it’s like a stampede, everyone
rushing after them, trying to find out what’s wrong and no one will look at me, no
one will meet my eyes and I pull myself away, out of sight, around the corner, into
the darkness. I taste the tears as they fall into my mouth, I count each salty drop
because I can’t understand what happened, how it happened, how this is even possible
because I wasn’t touching him, I couldn’t have been touching him please please please
I couldn’t have touched him but then I freeze. Icicles form along my arms as I realize:

I’m not wearing my gloves.

I forgot my gloves. I was in such a rush to get here tonight that I just jumped out
of the shower and left my gloves in my room and it doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t seem
possible that I could’ve done this, that I could’ve forgotten, that I could be responsible
for yet another life lost and I just I just I just

I fall to the floor.

“Juliette.”

I look up. I jump up.

I say, “Stay away from me” and I’m shaking, I’m trying to push the tears back but
I’m shrinking into nothingness because I’m thinking this must be it. This must be
my ultimate punishment. I deserve this pain, I deserve to have killed one of my only
friends in the world and I want to shrivel up and disappear forever. “Go away—”

“Juliette,
please
,” Warner says, coming closer. His face is cast in shadow. This tunnel is only half
lit and I don’t know where it leads. All I know is that I do not want to be alone
with Warner.

Not now. Not ever again.

“I said stay away from me.” My voice is trembling. “I don’t want to talk to you. Please—just
leave me alone!”

“I can’t abandon you like this!” he says. “Not when you’re crying!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t understand that emotion,” I snap at him. “Maybe you wouldn’t care
because killing people means nothing to you!”

He’s breathing hard. Too fast. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Kenji!” I explode. “I did that! It’s my fault! It’s my fault you
and Adam were fighting and it’s my fault Kenji came out to stop you and it’s my fault—”
My voice breaks once, twice. “It’s my fault he’s dead!”

Warner’s eyes go wide. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “He’s not dead.”

I’m agony.

I’m sobbing about what I’ve done and how of course he’s dead, didn’t you see him,
he wasn’t even moving and I killed him and Warner remains utterly silent. He doesn’t
say a single thing as I hurl awful, horrible insults at him and accuse him of being
too coldhearted to understand what it’s like to grieve. I don’t even realize he’s
pulled me into his arms until I’m nestled against his chest and I don’t fight it.
I don’t fight it at all. I cling to him because I need this warmth, I miss feeling
strong arms around me and I’m only just beginning to realize how quickly I came to
rely on the healing properties of an excellent hug.

How desperately I’ve missed this.

And he just holds me. He smooths back my hair, he runs a gentle hand down my back,
and I hear his heart beat a strange, crazy beat that sounds far too fast to be human.

His arms are wrapped entirely around me when he says, “You didn’t kill him, love.”

And I say, “Maybe you didn’t see what I saw.”

“You are misunderstanding the situation entirely. You didn’t do anything to hurt him.”

I shake my head against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t you.”

I pull back. Look up into his eyes. “How can you know something like that?”

“Because,” he says. “It wasn’t you who hurt Kenji. It was me.”

“What?”

“He’s not dead,” Warner says, “though he is severely injured. I suspect they should
be able to revive him.”

“What”—I’m panicking, panicking in my bones—“what are you talking about—”

“Please,” Warner says. “Sit down. I’ll explain.” He folds himself onto the floor and
pats the place beside him. I don’t know what else to do and my legs are now officially
too shaky to stand on their own.

My limbs spill onto the ground, both our backs against the wall, his right side and
my left side divided only by a thin inch of air.

1

2

3 seconds pass.

“I didn’t want to believe Castle when he told me I might have a … a
gift
,” Warner says. His voice is pitched so low that I have to strain to hear it even
though I’m only inches away. “A part of me hoped he was trying to drive me mad for
his own benefit.” A small sigh. “But it did make a bit of sense, if I really thought
about it. Castle told me about Kent, too,” Warner says. “About how he can touch you
and how they’ve discovered why. For a moment I wondered if perhaps I had a similar
ability. One just as pathetic. Equally as useless.” He laughs. “I was extremely reluctant
to believe it.”

“It’s not a useless ability,” I hear myself saying.

“Really?” He turns to face me. Our shoulders are almost touching. “Tell me, love.
What can he do?”

“He can disable things. Abilities.”

“Right,” he says, “but how will that ever
help
him? How could it ever help him to disable the powers of his own people? It’s absurd.
It’s
wasteful
. It won’t help at all in this war.”

I bristle. Decide to ignore that. “What does any of this have to do with Kenji?”

He turns away from me again. His voice is softer when he says, “Would you believe
me if I told you I could sense your energy right now? Sense the tone and weight of
it?”

I stare at him, study his features and the earnest, tentative note in his voice. “Yes,”
I tell him. “I think I’d believe you.”

Warner smiles in a way that seems to sadden him. “I can sense,” he says, taking a
deep breath, “the emotions you’re feeling most strongly. And because I know you, I’m
able to put those feelings into context. I know the fear you’re feeling right now,
for example, is not directed toward me, but toward yourself, and what you think you’ve
done to Kenji. I sense your hesitation—your reluctance to believe that it wasn’t your
fault. I feel your sadness, your grief.”

“You can really feel that?” I ask.

He nods without looking at me.

“I never knew that was possible,” I tell him.

“I didn’t either—I wasn’t aware of it,” he says. “Not for a very long time. I actually
thought it was normal to be so acutely aware of human emotions. I thought perhaps
I was more perceptive than most. It’s a big factor in why my father allowed me to
take over Sector 45,” he tells me. “Because I have an uncanny ability to tell whenever
someone is hiding something, or feeling guilty, or, most importantly, lying.” A pause.
“That,” he says, “and because I’m not afraid to deliver consequences if the occasion
calls for it.

“It wasn’t until Castle suggested there might be something more to me that I really
began to analyze it. I nearly lost my mind.” He shakes his head. “I kept going over
it, thinking of ways to prove and disprove his theories. Even with all my careful
deliberation, I dismissed it. And while I am a bit sorry—for your sake, not for mine—that
Kenji had to be stupid enough to interfere tonight, I think it was actually quite
serendipitous. Because now I finally have proof. Proof that I was wrong. That Castle,”
he says, “was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I took your Energy,” he tells me, “and I didn’t know I could. I could feel it all
very vividly when the four of us connected. Adam was inaccessible—which, by the way,
explains why I never suspected him of being disloyal. His emotions were always hidden;
always blocked off. I was naive and assumed he was merely robotic, devoid of any real
personality or interests. He eluded me and it was my own fault. I trusted myself too
much to be able to anticipate a flaw in my system.”

And I want to say, Adam’s ability isn’t so useless after all, is it?

But I don’t.

“And Kenji,” Warner says after a moment. He rubs his forehead. Laughs a little. “Kenji
was … very smart. A lot smarter than I gave him credit for—which, as it turns out,
was exactly his tactic. Kenji,” he says, blowing out a breath, “was careful to be
an obvious threat as opposed to a discreet one.

“He was always getting into trouble—demanding extra portions at meals, fighting with
the other soldiers, breaking curfew. He broke simple rules in order to draw attention
to himself. In order to trick me into seeing him as an irritant and nothing more.
I always felt there was something off about him, but I attributed it to his loud,
raucous behavior and his inability to follow rules. I dismissed him as a poor soldier.
Someone who would never be promoted. Someone who would always be recognized as a waste
of time.” He shakes his head. Raises his eyebrows at the ground. “Brilliant,” he says,
looking almost impressed. “It was brilliant. His only mistake,” Warner adds after
a moment, “was being too openly friendly with Kent. And that mistake nearly cost him
his life.”

“So—what? You were trying to finish him off tonight?” I’m still so confused, trying
to make an attempt to refocus the conversation. “Did you hurt him on purpose?”

“Not on purpose.” Warner shakes his head. “I didn’t actually know what I was doing.
Not at first. I’ve only ever just
sensed
Energy; I never knew I could
take
it. But I touched yours simply by touching you—there was so much adrenaline among
the group of us that yours practically threw itself at me. And when Kenji grabbed
my arm,” he says, “you and I, we were still connected. And I … somehow I managed to
redirect your power in his direction. It was quite accidental but I felt it happen.
I felt your power rush into me. Rush out of me.” He looks up. Meets my eyes. “It was
the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever experienced.”

I think I’d fall down if I weren’t already sitting.

“So you can take—you can just take other people’s powers?” I ask him.

“Apparently.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t hurt Kenji on purpose?”

Warner laughs, looks at me like I’ve just said something highly amusing. “If I had
wanted to kill him, I would have. And I wouldn’t have needed such a complicated setup
to accomplish it. I’m not interested in theatrics,” he says. “If I want to hurt someone,
I won’t require much more than my own two hands.”

I’m stunned into silence.

“I’m actually amazed,” Warner says, “how you manage to contain so much without finding
ways to release the excess. I could barely hold on to it. The transfer from my body
to Kenji’s was not only immediate, it was necessary. I couldn’t tolerate the intensity
for very long.”

“And I can’t hurt you?” I blink at him, astonished. “At all? My power just goes
into
you? You just absorb it?”

He nods. Says, “Would you like to see?”

And I’m saying yes with my head and my eyes and my lips and I’ve never been more terrified
to be excited in my life. “What do I have to do?” I ask him.

“Nothing,” he says, so quietly. “Just touch me.”

My heart is beating pounding racing running through my body and I’m trying to focus.
Trying to stay calm. This is going to be fine, I say to myself. It’s going to be fine.
It’s just an experiment. There’s no need to get so excited about being able to touch
someone again, I keep saying to myself.

But oh, I am so, so excited.

He holds out his bare hand.

I take it.

I wait to feel something, some feeling of weakness, some depletion of my Energy, some
sign that a transfer is taking place from my body to his but I feel nothing at all.
I feel exactly the same. But I watch Warner’s face as his eyes close and he makes
an effort to focus. Then I feel his hand tighten around mine and he gasps.