Earthquake

  I’m confused, but there’s nothing to do but follow Daniel right back down the steps we just climbed.

  Back to the people he just declared me to be the hero of.

  I feel so sick.

  Logan meets me halfway down the stairs. “What’s happening?” he asks as he threads his fingers through mine. I don’t protest; I want something to hold on to too.

  I shake my head, my eyes fixed on Daniel’s back. I don’t like what I heard in his tone. Saw in his eyes. There’s a sound from behind the nervous crowd—many with tears still streaming down their faces—even as the noise from the televisions becomes oddly irrelevant. The people part, making way for a man held tightly by two others and surrounded by a group of people dressed in plain, cream-colored clothing. Security. So innocent-looking. So not innocent.

  As soon as he gets close enough for me to see that rust-red hair, I realize who he is. “No,” I whisper, my stomach twisting and wrenching within me.

  “Is this him? The man who’s been following you?” Daniel asks.

  I can’t speak. I won’t speak. The man looks up at me pleadingly through those soft blond eyelashes. I can’t. I don’t care what Daniel thinks this guy has done—or worse, what he’s simply going to convince everyone else this guy did—I can’t condemn him to death with one word.

  But clearly the look on my face shouts louder than my will.

  A woman hands a tablet computer over to Daniel.

  Daniel stares at it. Then he clears his throat. The audience hushes instantly.

  “It has come to my attention that the details of my work with Tavia have not been as secret as I had hoped. Specifically, from the Reduciata.”

  A ripple goes through the crowd at the name that is practically blasphemy in this Curatoria world. It just makes me angrier that Daniel continues to play them.

  “Our own security forces have been closing in on this man, and now I have the proof I was waiting for. The spy’s computer,” he says. “With an unsent e-mail that reads: They’re close. Reports say on the cusp. They have the girl. Should I destroy everything or just kill her?” Daniel looks up at the crowd, then turns the tablet around so the gathered Curatoriates can see.

  They’re not close enough to actually read it. But the gesture is all the proof they need. Exclamations of fury explode below me, people shouting insults and suggestions for how to punish him. It feels like a fight in junior high, with the bullies ganging up on one kid. I’m sick to my stomach, and I wish I could leave, even if it would look cowardly.

  “A Reduciata spy,” Daniel says. Loud, clear, but calm. “A man—not even an Earthbound, just a man—who would damn the entire world for what? Reduciata favors. Make no mistake: we fight for the life of the world.” He turns to glare at the hapless man, who looks too terrified to be a traitor.

  And I wonder . . .

  “And we fight against people like this.” With his final word, Daniel thrusts out his hand and clenches it in a fist.

  Then the man is choking. His face turns red, and he gags and retches. Blood pours from his mouth, splattering to the floor seconds before he falls to his knees, his hands slipping in the wetness and smearing the dark stain across the beige tile. The crowd is alive with buzzing again, but no one rushes forward to help.

  I try.

  I step away from Logan, release his hand. But his arms snake around me, and he pulls me back, gripping me tightly against his chest. “There’s nothing you can do,” he whispers. “It’s already over.”

  As if hearing Logan’s words, the man crumples to the ground. His chest spasms once, twice.

  And then he is still.

  Everything is still.

  “I will not let this world die,” Daniel says, his voice quiet, yet it echoes. “Not if I have to kill a thousand traitors like him. I will right my wrongs.”

  Silence.

  I know one of two things will happen now. The Curatoriates will rise up against Daniel.

  Or for him.

  The silence stretches on for ten seconds. Twenty. It verges on a minute when a slow clapping starts.

  One set of hands is joined by another. Another. A dozen more. A hundred. Everyone claps, a few shout out Latin phrases I ought to understand. But I know what they mean.

  In an instant they are utterly loyal to Daniel again. Their suspicions, their questions, even much of their fear at the disaster in South America: all gone. Replaced with godlike awe and reverence for a killer. That was the purpose of the speech earlier. Of that little demonstration. Daniel used me. He used me to catch this spy—assuming he wasn’t actually a pawn; I don’t even know anymore—and then manipulated us both in a show of power to draw all of the Curatoriates closer. To regain their absolute loyalty.

  If this all goes wrong, they will still side with him. They will remember his words and trust that he did everything he could.

  What will they think of me?

  I stare in disbelief and horror at the man on the floor. He’s dead because of me. I may as well have choked the life out of him myself.

  THIRTY-THREE

  I don’t think I’m on the right side.

  I’m not convinced there is a right side.

  Trust ye the Curatoria but tenuously, and the Reduciata not at all. The words from Quinn Avery’s journal run through my head in a scream.

  But they’re a single force now! Does the fact that none of the other Earthbounds know the brotherhoods are working together even matter?

  I know, and I’m still helping Daniel.

  What does that say about me?

  Daniel turns to me and, after a moment, holds out his hand.

  To escort me up the stairs?

  I shake my head and hold tight to Logan. Daniel’s face darkens just a little. That wasn’t what he wanted, but I can’t simply act like this completely unjustified slaughter didn’t happen.

  He continues to hold out his hand, pushing it closer. At the same time he pins me with his eyes—daring me to defy him.

  I dare.

  I duck around Logan and flee. When I look back Logan is standing frozen in indecision.

  When did I stop being the one who hung back because of fear? I don’t know, but now I run, tearing up the stairs and weaving around corners until I’m almost lost.

  But not quite.

  I’m around the corner from the security wing.

  I don’t think. I don’t consider. I just shove through those doors.

  “Let me in,” I demand of the two security people sitting at the desk. “Now!” I shout when they don’t move fast enough. They unlock the doors, and I don’t wait for them to close behind me.

  I run to Benson.

  His arms wrap around me, holding me tight to his chest, his mouth close to my ear, and the ragged sound of his breathing echoes so loudly it becomes the only sound in my world.

  “I can’t go back,” I say, my breath coming so fast, my throat spasming; it feels like sobs are coming, threatening to overwhelm me, but I’m talking too quickly to let them truly take over. “I can’t. Daniel he—he just killed a man. No trial, no jury, he didn’t even get to speak up in his own defense, and then he—he—and then he was dead. Dear gods, Benson, he just killed him.”

  “It’s okay,” Benson says softly, soothingly, his hands clenched around my arms so tightly I’m not sure if he thinks he’s comforting me or holding me for comfort. But it seems to work both ways, and I don’t care that his grip makes my arms throb. I need it.

  “It’s not okay. Benson, it’s never going to be okay. What the hell am I doing helping someone like this?”

  “You’re saving billions of people in the world,” he whispers. “And then we’re all leaving.”

  His words finally get through. This isn’t our home; this isn’t our life. We were never going to stay.

  I just needed to be
reminded.

  “Leaving,” I repeat numbly.

  “Together,” he whispers. And I latch onto that word. “Daniel’s a cruel bastard, and Sammi and Mark had good reason not to trust him,” Benson murmurs. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s the one who has what you need to save everyone.” His eyes dart to the two-way mirror before he whispers, “Do you think you can finish today?”

  The mirror. I forgot. I didn’t think of anything except Benson. They probably heard everything.

  But how much could it possibly matter? What the hell could they tell Daniel that would have any effect? We’re almost out of time; Daniel said so yesterday. Twenty-four hours, the end of today. And then we have to leave. There may as well be bright red numbers counting down on the huge screen in the atrium.

  I follow Benson’s line of sight to the mirror, but I shake my head and turn back. It’s too late. I don’t care what they hear anymore.

  “I have to, or Daniel will evacuate us. He says the Reduciates are going to attack but . . .” I hesitate. If the Curatoria and Reduciata are working together, why would Reduciates be attacking? They wouldn’t. It’s yet another lie. Why is Daniel really in such a hurry?

  I push that thought away—it’s not important enough to reach the top of my priority list at the moment. I’ll probably be analyzing Daniel’s motives until the end of my days. However many—or few—I have left. For now, I have to focus. “Thomas was right, about the protein thing,” I whisper to Benson. “But we—I still have to put it into the old vaccine. Transform it so it can use the vehicle of the last one.” I scrunch my fists against my eyelids. “I don’t even know what that means, and I have to figure out a way to do it in less than eight hours.” I slump against him, my forehead resting on his chin. “I’m just so tired.”

  His arms rise to envelop me, and I feel small.

  Not bad small. Small enough to disappear into Benson’s arms. To hide from the world.

  Small like an ant, I think, and a tiny smile touches my lips.

  Like two ants.

  Two ants who are just big enough to be each others’ worlds.

  It’s so hard to even comprehend that it has literally been only a month since I discovered I could make things. Since the first time Benson and I kissed. Two weeks since the last time Benson and I kissed. Now I rub my nose against his warm neck and breathe against his skin, needing the comfort that emanates from it.

  From his mouth.

  “Benson,” I say, and somehow our lips are mere millimeters apart.

  And I lean forward.

  A tiny whimper escapes me before I sink against his mouth. Searching, taking, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer. His arms tighten around me as he kisses me back. “Harder,” I say. “Hold me tighter.” Already I can barely breathe, but I need to feel him even more. To know that he’s here. That he’s one thing the world, the Curatoriates—Daniel—cannot take from me.

  His teeth scrape at my bottom lip because I won’t pull back, not even to give him a breath of air, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. Maybe a little, but in that way that reminds me I can feel. That I’m not numb. And that’s what I want.

  Only when my forehead is damp from clenching every muscle in my body so hard—trying to hold him tighter—do I slowly relax. “I have to go back, don’t I?”

  “No,” he says. And for a moment I dream that maybe that’s the truth. “You don’t have to. But I know you, Tave. And I know that you won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t finish what you started.”

  I know he’s right. But I steal one more kiss before I pull in a shuddering breath and swipe my arms across my face, removing any traces of kissing or tears. I cling to Benson’s hand like a little child. It’s too much for one person to bear, but he seems willing to share the load. “Be ready,” I whisper.

  Then I let my fingers fall away from his.

  I walk to the door. It opens. And though every cell in my body is screaming at me not to, I walk away. He’s right; I have to.

  I leave the security wing and nearly run into Thomas. He’s alone, strangely, and it makes me wonder where Alanna is. His face is panicked, and he calms considerably when he sees me.

  “Oh good. Can we talk? Quickly?”

  In a moment everything from this morning—from before the horrific broadcast, the terrible killing—comes back. “Yes. Yes! Go down to the atrium, find Logan.” Oh dear gods, Logan. He’s going to hate me. “Tell him we need to meet in my special room. He knows where it is.”

  Thomas hesitates.

  “You need to see something,” I say. I have to show him the hidden Reduciata prison. If nothing else, to assuage the irrational fear that I imagined the whole thing. I give him quick directions. “It’s a very private place where we can talk.”

  He finally nods. “I’ll go get him.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe.

  We part ways, and as I enter my secret room, I realize I still haven’t eaten breakfast. No wonder I’m so tired. I create a large container of trail mix and nervously eat handfuls as I count the seconds waiting for Thomas and Logan to show up.

  Finally a tiny knock on the door. I turn the knob and the two slip in, clicking the door quietly closed behind them.

  “Are you okay?” Logan asks. It seems like a strange question. Even if it were possible to be okay after that display, in the face of everything else, would it matter?

  “No,” I answer honestly. “But I don’t think I’m going to be anything approaching okay until I leave this place.”

  “You and me both,” Logan murmurs.

  Thomas nods, his eyes closing for a few seconds. “Believe me, I understand.” I remember how many years—lifetimes—he and Alanna have spent in hiding.

  “Where’s Alanna?” I ask.

  “Keeping watch. Making sure no one comes down this hallway. I’ll tell her everything later.” He hesitates. “Are you going back to the lab?”

  “I have to.”

  He pauses. “What’s your next step?”

  “Transferring the isolated protein into the vaccine. Something about dosage.”

  Thomas waves those words away. “Do you think you’ll get that far today?”

  “Maybe, but you know we have to test it.”

  “You don’t think he’ll just test it on the humans here?” Logan asks.

  “After this morning they’d line up to volunteer, wouldn’t they?” I can’t hide the cynicism in my voice.

  “After this morning half of them would walk in front of a gun for him,” Thomas says. “He’s . . . he’s brilliant.”

  I nod, my voice catching in my throat. “He’s also made it so they won’t just let me leave until I’m done.”

  “Not out the front gates anyway,” Thomas agrees. “At this point you’ll not only need to escape but find a away to do it right under his nose.”

  “He must know I can.”

  “Certainly.” Thomas hesitates, then moves closer and puts his hands on my shoulders. “But I’m not sure if he knows that you know that. You hide your independence well around him.”

  “I’m not hiding; he makes me feel useless,” I confess, not sure just when I realized it. Daniel is the one who has told me time and time again that I’m necessary, but only for my transforming ability. The insinuation is that the rest of me is interchangeable. I’m certain now that he’s done it on purpose. Brilliant is the least of what he is. A long-term strategist with his own best interests in mind.

  But what else could you expect from the leader of a millennia-old brotherhood of gods?

  “We all need to be prepared,” Thomas says with a sweeping glance that includes Logan. “But you especially, Tavia. Remember that in all this, you have the upper hand. Don’t let him forget that. And for all our sakes, do not let him convince you otherwise. Because I have no doubt he’ll t
ry. Subtly.”

  “Like a snake,” I whisper.

  “Tavia, despite his talk, make no mistake, there’s nothing more important to Daniel than Daniel. That, above anything else, is what our research into him has uncovered. This morning he risked throwing you to the wolves to re-win the loyalty of his people in case things don’t work out. Make certain he remembers how much he needs you, how he needs you much more than you need him. That alone may end up being your ticket to staying alive.”

  I nod, accepting these vile things about Daniel as truth now. I don’t try to justify or romanticize. There’s no time for that anymore. Today is the day for facing cold, hard facts, and I brace myself to do just that. Thomas seems to be through talking, but I haven’t shown them my discovery yet.

  “There’s more.” My voice is choked, but I make myself speak. “It’s worse than you could possibly imagine.”

  Thomas stares at me, but there’s a trust there. He believes it can be so bad. Logan doesn’t look as convinced.

  I walk to the back of my small room—to the plain wall that was going to be the back of my kitchenette—and press my ear to it, just in case someone has decided to go in there since this morning.

  Then I make a hole.

  I turn to beckon the two to follow me, but Thomas’s face is chalky white and he’s staring, not at the hole but at me.

  “How did you do that?”

  I didn’t think. I’ve never told him. Or Alanna. Haven’t told anyone except Daniel and Logan. And technically, Daniel told us.

  “You’re a Creator,” Thomas says warily. “I’ve seen you work.”

  “I’m both,” I say, figuring that’s the easiest explanation. “That’s why Daniel needs me.”

  Thomas shakes his head. “He’ll never let you go. Daniel will never, never let something so valuable slip through his fingers.”

  “I know.” But a part of me cheers that Thomas believed me with almost no explanation whatsoever.

  Thomas’s hand is shaking as he lays it on my shoulder. “When everything breaks loose, I’ll get you out. I swear. I will not leave something so valuable with him.”