Jane looks down at me, and I read the desperation, the utter abandonment of reason on her face. Electrical currents dance from finger to finger. Her hand quivers—just the barest hint of motion. Grand doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, but suddenly Jane’s body is ripped from the ground, blown far into the woods. I hear the fading arc of her scream cut short by the brutal crack of her body against a tree.

  We are alone, Grand and I.

  His gaze settles on me like heavy shackles. We have the same round forehead. I hope my eyes don’t look as vacant as his.

  “Stand up,” he says.

  After all those hours I spent crafting lurid, lushly-detailed scenes of his death by my hand; sketching out the heroic look on my face, the beautiful strokes of my dagger through his arteries, the steady lilt of my voice as I accompanied his dying breath with powerful condemnations; after all of that, I rise up on wobbly knees and tremble as I stand before my father.

  “You stink of those boys.” Grand’s voice is slow and crisp.

  I sway.

  A faint line creases between Grand’s eyes. His gaze moves past me for a fraction of a second then resettles on my face.

  “They have told you that I am a monster,” Grand says.

  My brain finally unlocks, allowing a slow trickle of thoughts. “That…that you want to take over the world.”

  “This world isn’t worth taking over. Look at me.”

  I do.

  Grand radiates power. It’s hard to describe, except that I can feel it coming off him, from him. He seems as implacable as a mountain; as volatile as a supernova. Both at the same time if that’s possible. No wonder those blue eyes seem so arrogant, so cruel and calm.

  I know this is the end for me, but my adrenaline is starting to kick in, dulling the pain of my injuries and harnessing my fear for some desperate—most likely stupid—last stand.

  “The humans have ruined their playground,” Grand says. “I don’t want this sullied mess. I want to raze it to the ground. I want to rebuild something better. Stronger.”

  I need to at least try to hurt him. Go down fighting in a sappy, futile blaze of glory or something like that.

  Even though his face remains as empty as a porcelain mask, I can tell Grand is disappointed by my silence.

  “You cannot go back to what you once were.” Grand pauses, allowing his words to sink in their claws. “Only move forward or stand still.”

  I shift my weight, just a little, to my back foot.

  In that soft voice that somehow still manages to sound imposing and voluminous, Grand asks, “Do you want to starve the rest of your life?”

  He waits.

  “No,” I say and pull my arms in closer to my body.

  “Do you want to play in a dirty, broken sandbox?”

  “No.”

  “Then do not shun the gift I have given you. Allow me to complete your Ascension.”

  “What if I say yes?” I curl my fingers into loose fists at my sides.

  “Then I ask only a small favor. To prove your loyalty. Your worthiness.”

  “What favor?”

  Grand’s eyebrows lift just a little. I don’t understand until the hunger tugs at my brain. A human aura is moving cautiously toward us. This is what Grand noticed minutes ago, what he’s been setting up all along.

  Tarren is wary as he moves through the woods. His energy is muted, his steps quiet; just not nearly enough. Of course he would have thought to look for me here. Couldn’t have missed the tendrils of smoke issuing from the burnt tree either.

  “Don’t kill him,” Grand instructs me. “That one owes me blood.” His lips turn down, which is just about as expressive as I’ve ever seen him. He lifts his left arm so that the sleeve of his navy blazer falls back, revealing a cleanly-healed stump.

  Tarren stops. He’s found the demolished tree and the lines of burned grass. He leashes his energy even tighter. But it’s too late. Grand has set the trap, and Tarren will walk right into it.

  My mind wracks painfully, scrambling to figure some way out of this. I need to try and hurt Grand. Now. I have no weapons on me—hell, I’m not even wearing shoes—so I’ll just throw myself at him, go for his crotch, or maybe his windpipe.

  It’s weird how calm I am, even though I’m absolutely sure I’m going to die

  Tarren begins to move again, his steps cautious and light. He must be following the wake of trampled grass that I left. I shift my feet oh-so-slightly. All I have to do is distract Grand long enough for Tarren to get off a shot.

  The air abruptly changes around us. I look down and notice every hair on my arms lifting up. I don’t understand. Tarren breaks into the clearing just as a flash of light spears out of the sky toward me.

  WhiteWhiteWhite.

  A concussive explosion seems to kick straight into my skull.

  Ozone assaulting my nostrils.

  Something burning.

  Tears streaming out of my blinded eyes.

  I’m on the ground, though I don’t know how I got here. My body shudders and bucks involuntarily, but not from the lightening. From the energy cloaking my skin.

  Aura. Song. Hunger. Too much. Caught off guard. Can’t…can’t…

  My hands tear open, desperate to feed. I feel a breath cut past my ear, and then a heavy weight rolls off of me, taking the energy with it. Energy I recognize.

  “Get up.” Tarren’s voice. His hands on my shoulders, yanking me up so hard that I trip and fall into him.

  Energy. Energy. Energy.

  My palms are throbbing with need, but the gloves block contact with his aura. Patches of vision are starting to separate from the wild quilt of colors dancing in front of my eyes. I look dumbly over Tarren’s shoulder at the scorched ground where Grand and I had been standing.

  Movement.

  “Run,” Tarren hisses in my ear. His grip is a crushing manacle on my wrist. My head is heavy, and tears spill out of my eyes without prompting. He yanks, and I stumble after him, but I’m still looking back.

  Jane limps out of the trees. Lightening sizzles across her body, standing her black hair straight up from her head. She sees me and extends her arms.

  We’re done. Fried.

  Jane crumples to the ground with a cry of pain.

  “That was a mistake,” Grand says. I don’t know where he is, but his voice is coming from above. Whatever he’s doing to Jane, it’s bad. Her face twists in agony, and she convulses on the ground.

  I snap my head back around, and my legs start pumping. Tarren lets go of my wrist, and we run. Jane lets out a long, animal howl of pain. It’s a noise so primal, so hopeless that it just about incapacitates me with dread. Only the glow of Tarren’s energy ahead of me, like a beacon to safety, keeps me up and moving.

  A sharp crack cuts off Jane’s tortured scream. Then, silence.

  Chapter 23

  Tarren and I fly through those woods, the two of us, pumping our arms like mad, sucking in great lungfuls of air. My legs are still twitchy, and branches slap at my face and arms, but that’s not about to slow me down. The only thing slowing me down is Tarren. I pass him, and now check myself to keep his pace out of habit.

  We break through the woods into the empty park, and I catch the glow of the circus tent up ahead. It’s loud and alive, and I realize that the evening acrobatic show has started.

  Tarren pulls to a stop and hauls in a huge breath that he unleashes in plumes of white from his mouth. Thunder rolls across the sky, a menacing growl, and I’m suddenly aware of the growing darkness and the rain pattering all around us.

  “We need to keep going,” I clamor at him.

  He shakes his head, and his eyes are gray as steel. The thick muscles of his shoulders clench and relax. Something weird is going on in his aura, a pulse of calm blue in the vortex of reds and orange.

  “We can’t outrun him,” he says.

  “But…”

  “Listen to me.” Tarren’s voice is low and commanding. That blue pearl at the center of his aura grows, eclipsing the other colors. “We need to scatter in opposite directions. He can only go after one of us at a time. I’ll head for the tent, lose myself in the crowd. You go for the parking lot, hotwire a car.”

  A figure emerges from the woods a hundred feet behind us. It’s Grand. A single button is missing from his jacket, and the knees of his expensive slacks are stained with mud. Otherwise he looks as calm and clean as a business magnate on his way to a charity auction. He’s not wet. The rain slides around him, like he’s encased in an invisible bubble. This somehow doesn’t surprise me —that even the rain is afraid of him.

  Tarren doesn’t take his eyes off Grand. “Get to the motel. Make sure you aren’t followed. SUV is still there. Pick up Gabe. Tell him ‘Styx’. He’ll understand what that means.”

  It’s hard to describe exactly what I see in Tarren’s face at this moment, but it looks like he’s let the world roll right off his shoulders, like he can stand up straight for the first time. And this is a very bad thing. The only time Tarren ever calms down like this is when he’s going to shoot something.

  “Maya,” Grand calls to me, “is this your choice, then?”

  “Don’t look back,” Tarren whispers to me, “don’t stop.”

  There isn’t time for words, though I’m not sure what I would even say. I can’t forgive Tarren. Not even now when I think I already know what he’s going to do.

  “GO!” Tarren barks. I break away for the parking lot, releasing the full speed of my legs. Tarren doesn’t move. I check my steps.

  “DON’T STOP!” he cries. He’s empties his whole clip at Grand; thirteen loud thunderclaps that abuse my eardrums.

  I press forward, and I don’t look back anymore.

  …Not when Tarren’s gun goes silent.

  I reach the parking lot.

  …Not when I hear Grand chuckle.

  I start down the first row of cars, pulling desperately on door handles. I know exactly which year and models don’t have car alarms pre-installed.

  …Not when I hear their bodies collide and hit the wet ground.

  An old, red Ford Focus opens.

  …Not when I hear a sharp grunt of pain from Tarren, or the quiet nothing after that.

  I slam the door closed and wildly bat at the visor, hoping to dislodge some keys. A mournful plastic Jesus hangs from the review mirror.

  No keys.

  I pull up the memory of Gabe’s hotwiring lessons and let his voice guide me as I rip out the panel below the steering column with a concentrated tug and find my red wires. I strip them with a feral combination of nails and teeth and twist them together. I strip the brown ignition wire, tap it against the twisted red wires, and the engine issues a timid cough. I tap the wires together again, and this time the engine revs to life. I jam the stick into reverse, punch the pedal and the car bucks backward.

  Only when I wrestle the gear into drive and peel out of the parking lot do I glance in the rearview mirror. Grand, in his wet, disheveled blazer stands in the field looking down. There’s something lying at his feet, obscured by the long grasses. It doesn’t move. Grand lifts his head, watches my car leave, and frowns.

  I grip the wheel with both hands and let out a wild scream that doesn’t stop until I run out of breath.

  PART THREE

  Chapter 24

  I do exactly as I have been trained, following the escape route my brothers developed the first night we got here. Jesus twirls from the rearview mirror, and I hear Tarren’s steady voice in my mind as he preaches Diana’s rules:

  - Drive the speed limit no matter the situation

  - Make sure you aren’t being followed

  - Ditch a stolen car in a crowded parking lot

  - Wipe everything down; leave no trace of yourself

  I whisper along with him, word for word, and this actually helps, because it keeps me from thinking of the only thing I really care about. Tarren is maybe dead, but more likely in Grand’s clutches. He sacrificed himself for me, and now Grand’s got him to play with again.

  To cut.

  I abandon the car and its sad plastic Jesus at a nearby grocery store, giving it a wipe down so quick and sloppy that Tarren would need one of his biggest, deepest scowls to show his censure if he’d seen it. I take a circuitous route to the motel on foot. The rain grows heavier, and Grand is everywhere, in each echo, in every new scent the gusting wind brings to me. He gazes at me from every shadow and smiles at my piss poor attempts to shake him.

  I pass the bench where the two little boys wrestled. Up on the roof, I see Tarren and myself sitting together on the ledge; Tarren telling me his childhood story despite the pain it brings him.

  I walk down the rows of doors. My nerve endings grow spikes and use them. There’s this growing dread in my stomach that I’ll open Gabe’s door and find his broken corpse lying in a puddle of blood. I look behind me one more time and then up to study the vast expanse of charcoal sky where Grand could also be hiding. Nothing. I touch the door to Gabe’s room and project my senses.

  Within, I feel his energy pulsing in strong, steady waves of slumber. I lean against the door, close my eyes, and listen to the currents of his aura. I wish I could cast a spell that would let Gabe sleep forever. Anything but have to tell him that he’s lost his last true family member.

  Eventually, I raise my hand to knock. I try to be brave about this because of what Tarren did, but it’s pointless. I’m already crying as I pound the door with a weak fist.

  I hear Gabe start awake, curse at the time, and then make his way to the door. I hold onto the wall to keep myself up. Each second drips, drips, like blood, Tarren’s blood, welling from the open cuts all over his body. I never make sense when I’m upset.

  “Why in the hell didn’t you…oh shit.” Gabe’s expression of mild annoyance drops off his face as he opens the door and takes in my mud-splattered, dripping, teary-eyed appearance. “Maya, god, what happened?”

  Gabe looks so skinny in his boxers and undershirt and mismatched socks. So young.

  “Maya, where’s Tarren?”

  I shake my head.

  “What does that mean? Maya, what does that mean?” Gabe’s voice rises and so does his aura.

  “Grand found us,” I whisper. “Tarren stayed behind. Styx. He said Styx.”

  I brace myself for Gabe’s reaction, and it’s a good thing I do. Gabe screams, “WHERE? WHERE?” He tries to bolt outside, but I plant myself in the doorway blocking his path. Gabe whirls under my arms. I snatch his ankle, pull him down, and put my hand on his back, pressing him into the concrete.

  “You’re in your goddamn boxers,” I hiss in his ear.

  “Get off me. Get off me. GET OFF!” Gabe’s energy ratchets up all around me. White, like diamonds flashing in the sun. The song swells until my bones vibrate. My palms tear open, and I scurry away from him and tuck my hands into my body. A door opens behind us, and a shirtless man who’s obviously eaten a couple thousand donuts too many in his lifetime peers out.

  “You’re making a scene,” I manage in a husky voice.

  “I need a gun.” Gabe scrambles up and stalks into his room. I go in behind him, close the door, and stand in front of it. I feel Sir Hopsalot’s energy, spikey with fear, under Gabe’s bed.

  “We’ll go back...” Gabe pulls his Beretta semi-automatic from under his pillow. “We’ll…we’ll find him…”

  “Gabe.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “We’ll go back. We’ll find him...”

  “Gabe.”

  “Oh fuck,” Gabe moans. White-tipped energy rolls off him in waves. I press my glowing palms against the wall behind me and lean against them.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Gabe drops the gun and sinks to his knees. He tucks his head into his chest and clutches handfuls of his hair. “I KNEW HE’D PULL SOMETHING LIKE THIS!”

  Gabe’s aura explodes around his body, filling up the contours of the room. I lean harder against my hands, locking out my legs. The bulbs resist, and the physical pain of pressing them into the wall with all my strength helps blunt the melody of the song. My teeth grind against each other. My quads twitch with effort. I hold against the dark need.

  Gabe stands up, staggers, and clutches the table. “Okay,” he whispers to himself, “okay, okay, okay, okay.” He looks up at me with wild eyes. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head. “What does Styx mean?”

  “It means Tarren’s a fucking moron. Did Grand try to chase you? Did he follow you here?”

  “No. Tarren…” I swallow and try to remember how words go together. “Tarren distracted him, so I could escape.”

  “Was Tarren…” Gabe’s voice warbles. He takes a short breath and tries again. “Was Tarren alive the last time you saw him?”

  I think back to that wedge of reflection in the rearview mirror; Grand looming over an unmoving shape in the long grass. His words echo in my memory.

  That one owes me blood.

  “Grand wanted him alive.”

  Gabe rakes his hands through his hair again. He drops into the chair at the desk and flips open his laptop. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. Pack your bag as fast as you can. Don’t leave anything, but don’t bother wiping down the room…”

  His fingers skitter across the keyboard. He digs around in his files, opening up a Word doc named Mordor.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To pull off a spectacular rescue, of course.”

  “Gabe…”

  “Wichita Falls. That’s the closest facility Grand owns.” Gabe snatches a pen and tries to write the address on his palm.

  “What?”

  The cheap hotel pen isn’t writing well on his sweaty skin, so Gabe scribbles sloppy letters and numbers on a complimentary notepad.

  “Remember I told you we found one of Grand’s labs once?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Gabe pulls off the top note sheet, sees the deep indent of his pen strokes on the sheet below, and throws the full pad in the direction of his duffle.

  “I worked backwards, identified the different shell companies used to buy it, and then looked into all the other properties in their portfolio.”