I stopped and turned to look around at the neighborhood once more. Nobody had come out of their house to see what caused the noise. No one was concerned by someone screaming and banging in the neighborhood. Domestic violence and screamed disputes happened here on a daily basis. Suddenly the door ripped open and a wave of sweat and alcohol washed over me. I remembered it well. A smell that was ripe with a life ruined, the scent of hopelessness.
Carl stood in the gap of the doorway. His eyes were bleary and his face unshaven, but at least he was dressed in what looked to be a clean tank top and jeans. I’d seen him worse. He squinted at me as he held on to the doorframe, probably to steady himself. He was drunk. Not a big surprise.
He blinked a few times and then seemed to really recognize me for the first time. “Tessa, that you?” The words had a slight slur to them, but at least they were intelligible.
“Yes, it’s me. I need to talk to you, Carl,” I said.
Carl’s eyes flickered over to Devon, who stood so close to me that our arms were brushing.
Hearing my name from Carl’s mouth felt strange. When I’d lived with him and my mother, I’d only ever heard him shout it in contempt or anger. Now he sounded almost . . . happy to see me. Nearly nostalgic. Maybe the years of alcohol and loneliness had finally taken their toll.
Carl stepped back to give us room to enter, still gripping the door. He was unsteady on his legs but managed to keep his balance. “Come in.”
We walked in, and Carl shut the door behind us. The tangy smell of beer was even worse now that the fresh air supply from outside was cut off. “How about I make some coffee?” I said. I wanted Carl as sober as possible when we had our talk.
“Sure,” Carl said. “Make yourselves at home. I’m going to wash up upstairs. Why don’t you go into the living room?” Gripping the banister, he walked up the stairs. He’d never been this civil to me.
A weight settled in my stomach as I stepped into the kitchen and turned the light on. The sink was filled with dishes, the remains of food crusted on them. The garbage was piled high in the trash bin, ready to be taken outside. Everything was as I remembered it. The memory of my last day in this house flashed in my mind.
Misty white. The glass fogged over, my warm breath eating away at the sheen of frost. Stiff-fingered, I wiped at the clouded glass. The soft glow of the streetlamp flowed into my room. It cast a dim light on the bare walls and stained carpet.
Outside, two shapes disappeared into the shadows. The yellow-white glare grasped for them, but they were wrapped in darkness. Cold clawed at my cheeks and nose. I strained my eyes, but the two forms remained indistinct shapes.
A gentle breeze sent the snowflakes whirling around on the street, past overstuffed trashcans, the three-wheeled car nobody had driven for months, and the shopping cart that Mrs. Cross from across the street had stolen from Target a few days ago. My eyes darted back to the place where the two forms had stood—but they were gone.
I pulled my legs up, away from the frigid heater, and pressed them against my chest. If Carl hadn’t spent all of our money on booze, it would be warm here.
The sound of shouting, the words too mangled and slurred to make sense of them, carried through the thin walls into my room.
I felt cold all over again. Mom’s high-pitched reply to Carl wasn’t even coherent. I pushed myself off my cold perch, and my bare feet landed on the old carpet with its ever-present smell of mold. Something sticky pressed against the sole of my foot, but I didn’t bother to check what it was. Probably the beer Carl had spilled when he stumbled into my room instead of the bathroom a few days ago.
The shouting hadn’t stopped yet.
I shuffled out of my room and into the hallway, not caring that dust bunnies stuck to my feet. The bathroom was even colder than the rest of the house, and black mold covered the wall near the shower. I pushed the door shut and turned on the light. After a few flickers, the bulb started glowing, and the mirror threw my reflection back at me.
Was it even my face? Maybe I’d lain next to another newborn in the baby ward and decided that her face was better than mine. I moved closer until I could see every fingerprint and toothpaste stain on the mirror. Tiredness was etched into my skin. I shut my eyes, though it wasn’t necessary for the shift. The familiar rippling washed over me.
The sensation died down, and I risked a look at my reflection.
The door banged open, and Mom stood in the doorway, her mascara smudged and her lips bust open. For a moment she stared at me as if I was everything evil and bad wrapped into one body. As if I were responsible for whatever had just happened to her. The look of horror changed to anger as she grabbed my arm.
“What are you doing? How often do I have to tell you not to do this? Do you want Carl to find out? Do you want something bad to happen to us? Why can’t you be normal?”
Mom flipped the switch and bathed us in darkness, as if she couldn’t bear looking at me, before she went on. “I’ve been trying to hide your strangeness for so many years, but you never listened. Everything’s your fault.” Leaving me in the dark, she stalked off. Guilt burned a path through my stomach. Abnormal. Monster. Thief. That’s what I was. A freak who could steal other people’s appearances.
I blinked to get rid of the prickling sensation in my eyes. The shape of my face shifted again, and when the tearing stopped, I moved closer to the mirror. Brown eyes instead of turquoise, same auburn hair but thicker and with more waves.
I forced Mom’s expression to soften until there was a look on her face I’d never seen directed at me. My lips trembled when I moved them and her voice came out. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.” My expression twisted, became more like the one I was used to seeing.
The doorbell jolted me out of the moment, and I dropped Mom’s appearance.
“Tessa, get your ass down here. There’s someone who wants to see you,” Mom shouted.
I hurried down the steps toward the unfamiliar voices, but Mom grabbed my arm. “You brought this onto yourself.” Her nails dug into my skin, and I tried not to wince.
Shaking her off, I glared at her. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
I entered the living room. Two men stood in their prim suits amid the ragged furniture and empty beer bottles. Their faces turned toward me. I took a step back when my eyes locked with a pair of gray ones.
They belonged to the taller and much younger of the two. He had the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen. They kept me frozen to the spot.
I cleared my throat. “You’re here to see me?”
The older man nodded. His slicked-back black hair didn’t move an inch. “Yes. I’m Major Antonio Sanchez. I was about to speak to your father about the reason for our visit.”
“He’s not my father.” The words shot out before I could stop them.
“Ungrateful brat.”
My skin burned from Carl’s words. He’d called me worse, but not in front of strangers. I knew better than to bring anyone home.
“Go get us some cigarettes. I’ll handle this alone,” Mom said, surprising me and maybe even herself. I couldn’t remember her voice ever sounding as firm when she spoke with one of her boyfriends.
Carl glanced between the two men and Mom, probably deciding they would interfere if he hit her, before he stumbled toward the front door. “Whatever. Suit yourself. The brat’s not mine.”
Major Sanchez waited for the bang of the door before he spoke. “As we discussed on the phone, this is the best for your daughter. She’ll be safe and cared for, and she’ll live among people like herself, other Variants, and learn to control her Variation.”
The younger guy nudged me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Alec.” He pushed a hand into his black hair, tousling it even more. “I heard about your talent. The agency has been talking about nothing else since your mother called us.”
Mom had ca
lled them to get rid of me? She’d told strangers about my abnormality? But she’d always tried so hard to hide it.
“So you’re taking her with you?” Mom asked, calm and controlled, even hopeful.
Screams built in my lungs.
“Yes. But you can keep in touch and visit Tessa whenever you like.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s for the best if we don’t remain in contact.”
My insides collapsed and the silent screams with them. I’d come to terms with the fact that she didn’t love me, that she could barely tolerate me most of the time, but that she despised me enough to leave me to the mercy of strangers?
“Okay, everything’s settled then,” Major Sanchez said. “Tessa, we’re taking you with us.” Mom’s back was the last thing I saw. She left the room as they led me away, and didn’t even turn around once.
CHAPTER 20
“Tessa?”
I snapped out of the past, only now realizing that I was clutching the kettle in a death grip. Devon stood in the doorway, a look of deep worry on his face.
“Sorry,” I croaked. “I got lost in memories for a moment.”
“I figured.” He approached me slowly, as though he was afraid I might break down or bolt at any moment. I turned the faucet on and filled the kettle with water before putting it on the stovetop. Devon didn’t say anything as he watched me wait for the water to boil. I put three heaps of instant coffee in a semiclean cup and poured the hot water on top. I gave it a few quick stirs with a dirty spoon before heading toward the living room. Carl was sitting on the sofa. He looked much more alert than before. I sat the coffee cup down in front of him. “Extra strong,” I said. “The way you like it.”
He downed the first gulp of the black liquid. He sputtered and coughed. “Fuck, that’s hot!”
That was the language I was used to from him. No please or thank you, just criticism. I settled on the armrest and waited for the caffeine to kick in. Devon sat down on the armchair across from me. From the state of the living room, no one had cleaned it for months. I wondered if anyone besides Carl had set foot in the house in about as long. Beer bottles, dirty clothes, used tissues, and empty cans of meatballs and baked beans littered the ground, and the layer of dust and grime on every surface was as thick as my pinky.
“You changed a lot,” Carl said eventually.
“People do change,” I said coldly. At least most people do, I thought. Except for the fact that he had less hair on his head and more on his shoulders—which were sadly uncovered, thanks to his grayish-white tank top—Carl’s life hadn’t changed.
“Suppose they do,” he said. For a moment, he seemed far away. “Sometimes all it takes is a little push.” A strange smile flitted on his face, but then he pulled himself out of his zone. “What do you want? I got no money.”
I had to stop myself from snorting. As if I’d ask him, of all people, for money! “I’m looking for my mother. I thought you might be able to help me find her, or have some idea where she is.”
“The bitch left me a few weeks after they took you away.”
Devon’s eyes grew wide at the insult, but I’d heard far worse from Carl’s mouth.
“Did she find someone new?”
Carl shrugged. “Don’t think so. Guess she’d lost interest in me.”
“Have you seen her since then? Or did she tell you where she was heading?” I could see Devon’s frightened eyes taking in every inch of the room, and my body heated with embarrassment.
“Nah, nothing. She was glad to get away.”
“You must know something,” I pleaded.
Carl got to his feet and pulled something from behind his back. He was pointing a Glock at us.
I tensed. “What are you doing?”
Carl ignored my question. He moved a few steps back, then gestured with the gun at Devon. A silencer was attached to its barrel. “You. Sit beside her. I want you close together.”
“Calm down,” Devon said. “We don’t mean any harm.”
“Shut up!” Carl snarled, spit flying from his mouth. “Get over there, or I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” Devon stood from the armchair and slowly made his way over to me. I never took my eyes off the weapon in Carl’s hand. I wondered if he knew that a silencer didn’t actually silence a gun completely. The sound of the gunshots would be suppressed, but the neighbors might still hear them. Not that anyone around here would give a damn.
“What did you do upstairs?” I asked.
“A couple of days ago, a guy showed up on my doorstep. Promising money and all, if I called him when I saw you. Thought he was joking, but he gave me five hundred bucks for nothing and promised there’d be a lot more where that came from. Of course, I thought that’s all I’d ever get. Didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show your face around here.” He cackled, glee shining in his eyes.
“What have you done?” I whispered. My hands began shaking, so I curled them into fists.
“I always knew something good would come my way. Never figured it would come from you, but I’m happy to be surprised.” He smirked, and I wanted nothing more than to stalk over to him and smash his face. But he still hadn’t told me whom he’d alerted to our presence. And there was the problem of the gun.
Devon’s fingers brushed my hand. I hooked my pinky with his. “Who was it? Who was here?” I made my voice come out hard and unafraid, despite the fear turning over my stomach. Was the FEA looking for us? Or was it someone from Abel’s Army?
“Dunno,” he said, glancing at the window. I followed his gaze toward the street. “But the guy should be here pretty soon. I called him when you first got here, and he said he was close by.”
I shifted, every instinct telling me to do something, to run. Carl wouldn’t shoot us. He wouldn’t get a reward if he delivered us dead. Carl chanced another look at the window, and suddenly Devon ripped away from our touch and stormed toward him. Carl was slow, but he raised the gun before Devon had a chance to reach him. A crack sounded through the room, and Devon twitched and swayed backward. A bullet had hit him.
“No!” I screamed and ran toward them. Devon collided with Carl, and a second shot rang out. The back of Carl’s head smashed against the wall, and he crumbled to the ground. Devon lay right beside him. For a moment I wasn’t sure whom the second shot had hit, then I noticed the bullet hole in the ceiling. Carl’s chest was rising and falling—he was just unconscious.
I knelt at Devon’s side, trying to squelch the overwhelming panic pulsating through my body. I rolled Devon over so he was facing me. Blood flowed from a wound at his shoulder. There wasn’t a second hit. Devon’s eyes fluttered, and he gave me a shaky smile. The color drained from his face, but luckily he stayed conscious. “Why did you do that?” I whispered as I helped him to his feet. Even if he was wounded, we couldn’t risk staying here for much longer. Whoever Carl had called would be here at any minute.
“Remember? I’m bulletproof.” The humor died on his face, and he grimaced from pain as I wrapped his arm around my neck. He leaned heavily on me as I led him out of the living room. “It doesn’t look like that to me,” I muttered. Though I knew I should be grateful. Devon had bought us time and gotten us out of a hopeless situation, but I couldn’t forget the stab of panic I’d felt when I’d watched him get shot.
I cracked open the front door and peeked outside. The street was still empty. I hurried to our car, dragging Devon along with me. I could tell that he was trying to walk on his own, but his legs were too shaky. I pushed him onto the passenger seat, and he gave me a grateful smile. Droplets of sweat beaded on the top of his lip. I walked around the car and slipped behind the steering wheel. Part of me wanted to speed away, but on the other hand this was a good opportunity to get a glimpse at the person who was following us. If it was Abel’s Army, it would be good to know the faces I’d have to look for. Again I thought of letting them
catch me. If they took me prisoner, at least there was a good chance they’d be leading me to Holly. But what about Devon?
His eyes were closed in pain. No. I needed stick to the plan. Keep Devon safe and try to find my mother. I put the key into the ignition and started the car. I checked the street. Four houses down, a driveway was vacant and the shades were drawn. It seemed like as good a place as any to hide in plain sight. I reversed the car and slowly drove toward the house. I backed into the driveway. That way I could make a fast escape, if necessary.
“I think you’ll have to remove the bullet,” Devon said through gritted teeth. I jumped at the sound of his voice. He didn’t even question why I hadn’t sped away, but he probably had bigger worries.
“What?” I said. “But your body heals itself.”
“Yeah, it heals itself, but that’s the problem. It’ll close the wound and encase the bullet. And then later, once it realizes how bad the foreign material is for me, it’ll start rejecting the bullet very slowly by driving it out and then healing again.”
I stared at the wound, which was already starting to close. The bullet was definitely still inside.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s better to get it out now and heal all at once.”
I’d never removed a bullet. I’d read about it and seen a video tutorial, but that was as far as my experience went. I hadn’t really paid attention when Devon had removed the tracker from my arm, and that had been close to the surface. This bullet was lodged way deeper. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at Carl’s house, but he hadn’t stormed out to search for us yet. He’d hit his head pretty hard. As messed up as he was, I hoped we hadn’t hurt him too badly. My eyes drifted to the end of the street.
“I once managed to get a huge splinter in my knee when I had an accident with my bike and fell on a log,” Devon continued. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t a pleasant experience to have my body repel that splinter by breaking open my skin. Hurt like hell.”
“That’s not very clever of your body,” I said, turning back to Devon. “It should avoid causing you pain.”