Arise (Book Three in The Arson Saga) (18 page)

Joel pressed his lips to Aimee’s. Desperate attempts to call back a soul. Kyro sat rubbing his jaw, his fingers stained with blood. She wasn’t sure whose, but the kid looked terrified. Maybe it was more because Joel was freaking out.

She made Joel a mark first but couldn’t pull the trigger. With a twitch of the wrist, Redd targeted Kyro, and swore she could do him. She’d taken lives before, countless times. It was simple. It was easy. No further calculation necessary.
For the love of…
Why couldn’t she do it?

Beyond the cloudy mist circling their bodies, she noticed a figure approaching. Running toward them. He wore a suit jacket and a look of raw determination. She recognized that look. She had trained this shadow of a man to wear it. As he drew closer, his eyes came into view. “Plake.” Ron Plake.

Suddenly it all made perfect sense. If she didn’t have the stomach to finish it, he would. Hoven never had trusted her, not like Henry Parker had. And maybe the vulture was right not to. It was likely Plake had been tailing her the whole time, waiting for her to fail, to cave to her weakness.

With the gun poised and aimed at Kyro, she watched the street hustler’s eyes expand. He knew. Somehow the boy knew. Against every tremor in her body, she guided the nine millimeter away from Kyro and fixed it upon Plake, the tall executioner sprinting closer. He slid his right hand into his reverse jacket pocket, and a weapon emerged. But she sent a bullet into his forehead before he had the chance to use it.

She dropped her head into the puddle of snow and sleet. A deep sigh exited her lungs, and for the first time in years, Redd felt a certain kind of peace. As if she had died.

“Didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

Who said that?
The voice came from another direction. To her right. No. Behind her. Another of Hoven’s spies. She swiftly tilted her head back, to get a better—albeit disrupted—view of the man in a burgundy suit. His black socks were stained and wet. She wanted to shoot, but he had her.

“Don’t!” the man warned.

She connected the voice to an awkward one night stand. “Just following orders, right, Jensen?”

He didn’t reply.

“You caused the accident. You involved innocent people. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

He didn’t even flinch. “There is no rulebook anymore, or haven’t you noticed? You did this, Lana.”

“You know me.”

“It didn’t have to be this way. We gave you every chance to complete the mission, but you let emotions cloud your judgment. We have to leave our humanity out of it. You can’t do what we do and expect to feel human at the end of the day. We all made a choice. There’s no turning back.”

She slowly rotated her body and looked him in the eyes. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Goodbye, Lana.”

There was no sound of a bullet launching from the mouth of his handgun. Instead, a thunderous noise erupted in the distance, shaking the earth. Vivid light radiated across the sky in every direction, originating from one central point. Consumed with awe and dread, Jensen dropped his guard. This was her chance.

Redd sprang to her feet and retrieved a knife from her sleeve. Without hesitation, she fed the blade into his jugular and twisted. Blood crawled down his neck, his arms, his chest, dripping onto the weapon he dropped into the filthy snow. His body didn’t drop just yet, though. It lingered upright, in pause, in worry. A fearful spectator, a quivering witness to the destruction of Salvation Asylum. The mushroom cloud spawned a nightmare vision, a vortex of black and grey.

No reaction but dismay. No pulse but fear. Jensen was a fading statue, choking on his last prayers.

“Oh God,” she panted, as a furious gust of wind hurled her back ten, possibly twenty, feet. Never before had she felt so insignificant. The volcanic cloud rushed closer with intense heat. She tasted ash and smoke as the power of the elements spiraled around her lungs. “Adam!” She cried his name once more, not knowing if Joel or Kyro—or any of them—would survive. But screaming her brother’s name was futile; there was no way the dead could save her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

W
hen Emery woke, Adam’s
face was planted against the window. He was in agony; a profuse sweat had begun that dripped from his forehead in thick, round droplets.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He tried to fake like he was all right, but it wasn’t working.

“You d-d-do-don’t look well, Adam,” Krane said, guiding the vehicle down the highway. Apart from the skinny set of tire marks veering off the nearest on-ramp and into the woods, the interstate appeared as though no plow had reached it. Once Krane merged, Emery noticed the totaled sedan’s flashing lights peeking out of the brush. A poor soul probably still locked inside.

“I’m…fine,” Adam forced, sounding exhausted.

“I didn’t w-w-wish any of this.”

“Liar!”

“It’s the truth, albeit a h-ha-h-half-truth. We spent years working with your blood, but your responses were less than ideal. I n-n-need-needed to know your abilities were still…in-i-n-t-t-t-tact.”

“Those men and women who died to prove your theory… Was it worth it?”

“Yes.”

Emery marveled at the lack of conviction in the doctor’s voice. His response was almost robotic.

“Precious metal must be tested un-u-un-under extreme heat to pr-p-p-prove its worth. This was a test, nothing more. My love for you r-r-remains-remains unchanged.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” Emery fumed. “You’re sick!”

“To some, maybe.”

“Why not just let her go, Emanuel? You don’t need her.”

Emery paused to think. Was he bluff—yeah, he had to be bluffing, just to manipulate Krane. She knew what he’d told her, that she was unique, special, and as bizarre as that concept seemed, a part of her wanted it to be true. It didn’t change the fact that she still felt so…so…

“Powerless, that’s how you s-s-see her, Adam? Now who’s the liar? My instincts were not wrong about her. I’ve s-s-seen-een it.”

“What do you mean?” Emery demanded, desperate to get out of the handcuffs. “What do you mean, you’ve seen it?”

Before Krane spoke, she saw a line form on the back of his neck. A sliver of mucus slipped out as the surrounding casing of skin peeled away, revealing a small eye.

“I had a vision, of you, my dear. Your powers w-w-will-will manifest, in due time.” By her next blink, Krane’s creepy add-on had once again concealed itself.

“Why are you doing this to us?” she asked.

“To refine our species. I’m picking up where G-G-God left off.”

“It won’t work. Whatever you’re planning, won’t work,” Adam said. “Your kind can’t handle my abilities.”

“My
k-k-k-kind
?” Krane scoffed. “That’s offensive. I am proof that humanity is prepared to become.”

“The world isn’t ready. Most will die. You’ll kill them. You know that, and you don’t care.”

“When it happens, all will be as it should be. Every calf has a bit of f-f-f-fat that needs to be trimmed before it reaches the m-m-mast-master’s plate.”

“Master? Are you that blind? You think you can rule this world, Emanuel? You can’t even speak correctly. You’re pathetic. What kind of a leader do you think you can be?”

“Shut up!” Krane fumed, losing traction briefly.

“What makes you think anyone will follow you?”

“I will redeem this world from annihilation.”

“Your choices, and the choices of
your
masters, will bring about this annihilation. You’re not making any sense.”

“I have no masters, not anymore. Am-m-midst the chaos, I will establish order. My order.”

“There doesn’t have to be any chaos,” Emery tried, not meaning for her eyes to water. “You can stop it. Let us go. Change it.”

“Be strong,” Adam urged.

“Yes, Phoenix, be strong,” Krane repeated. “It is alw-w-ways-ways darkest before the dawn.”

Adam’s eyes started to spin wildly, and his head beat against the window. A crack formed at the center of the glass. “What is it?” Emery screamed, but Adam didn’t respond. It looked like he couldn’t. “Do something!” she shouted to the doctor, straining her wrists against the metal so much she swore they bled.

“Adam!” Krane screeched, but his voice didn’t elicit a response either. “Adam!” Then, to Emery: “The venom was o-only-only supposed to contain his powers. This r-r-r-reaction is foreign to me.”

What was happening? Emery recalled watching a film about exorcisms and possession, much to the chagrin of her mother, when she was eleven. The way Adam’s eyes positioned themselves inside each socket, the way his mouth sort of just hung there, open and kinda creepy, restored those ghastly images to her mind’s hard drive. But she’d never actually witnessed a possession. To her, such things were rumors, nothing else.

Adding to the state of agitation, the Mercedes was suddenly suspended. Shock uncurled its monstrous fist inside of her belly. She assumed Adam, or a part of his mind, was causing the car to hover over the ground.

“Adam, listen to my voice! Can you hear me?” How fast were they moving, or how slow? Krane’s eyes were clearly panicked, but she couldn’t hear him stammering for the right words, the right threats. All they had suffered together came to the forefront of her mind. The asylum, their sewer escape, the bloody war at his old home, watching Ruth die. Typical teenage romance was just some foregone fantasy. That was clear. What she could grasp, though, were the memories of struggle, of pain, of healing. Yes, she could not forget the healing, and how it had changed her from within.

“Adam!” She held both sides of his temple, hoping to God it didn’t intensify his pain. “Did you see
this
, Doctor? Did you see this coming!”

A bleached face stared back. “Put us down, son!” he demanded, clamoring for the hand grip above the window. Like it would save him once they crashed. Emery stole a glance out the cracked glass. They were now fifteen, possibly twenty feet up. Adam’s eyes still scanned back and forth so rapidly she knew he couldn’t see anything. Had his powers come back, or was this something else?

“I’m here, and I love you,” she said, kissing his cheek, his nose, his neck. “I’m here. I love you,” she repeated. “It’s okay.” But they were still suspended in the air. “Come back.”

Then his eyes stopped fluttering, and he stared at her, through her. She felt the drumming of her heart against her chest as he said in a calm, dead voice, “Salvation’s gone, Doctor. They’re all dead.”

Every window instantly shattered, and Emery yelped, thinking the wind might drag glass fragments toward her. But instead the splinters were launched into the doctor’s body all at once. She exiled the fear, exiled any compassion for the vindictive man who sought to rob them of their lives.

“Adam…w-wh-what…have you done?” Krane moaned, dabbing the red sewers in his arms and face.

The vehicle began its swift descent, spiraling headfirst toward the interstate.

Tension lurked inside her veins. Not fear, not doubt; tension. She squirmed, and the cuffs gnawed at her wrist. Her seatbelt snapped at once, and gravity pulled her into the front section of the vehicle. Her spine hit the center control panel with a crunch, and she got a clear view of the doctor wheezing. They made eye contact, eerie eye contact. The guy looked dead already, but he lunged at her, his blood-red fingernails scratching at her chin then searching for her throat like he was going in for the kill.

And then they crashed to the ground.

A shredding safety belt held Krane’s stuttering body prisoner. After the moment of impact, he ceased to breathe. Nerves. Emery’s vision had gone black for a split second, but clarity slowly returned, and those odd splashes of color floating above her eyes soon dissipated. The rear left side of the Mercedes had exploded, propelling Adam several feet from the crash. He wasn’t moving. But neither was she.

She
could
move, right? Emery flapped her eyelids. Stretched her jaw, her nostrils. The pain drifted in and out. She didn’t like it, but she was thankful to be alive. Sliding her neck from side to side, hope began to build. With her elbows, she perched the upper half of her frame forward, surprised not to hear a cracking sound, no broken ribs scraping disoriented organs. No ruptured lungs. She even breathed naturally, and moved naturally. There were cuts, but minimal. Finally, she twitched her leg, felt the muscles tingle. A thrilled smile nudged her mouth, but it didn’t last long. She had to check on Adam.

Before departing the wreckage, Emery fidgeted with the keys still stuck in the ignition. One of them would unlock her handcuffs. Once she managed to pull them out, the engine groaned its last. She fed the tiny manacle key into the slot in her cuffs, and the metal unhinged without protest. She never knew a stupid little thing could call forth such a liberating slew of emotions.

There was a piece of glass still lodged in the window frame beside Krane’s bloody mug. How it remained there during the collision she didn’t know, but she pried it loose with little effort, not caring that the action produced a small incision in her palm. She looked at the doctor, really looked at him, and noticed his nerves still twitching. Unease no doubt seeking an escape. She spent a microsecond drinking the image in, calling to mind all he’d done to her. She’d been taught forgiveness. She’d been taught compassion. She’d been taught mercy. But after what she’d been forced to endure with Adam, she was convinced such beliefs only functioned in a functional world. And this one—her world, what was left of it—had descended into dysfunction long ago. Her knuckles made a fist around the jagged edges of the glass as she thrust it into the doctor’s groin, and after she pulled the shard out, she slid it twice into his gut. She left it there while squirts of blood flew into her hair.

Racing out into the icy cold, Emery saw Adam’s body. It better be moving, so help her God, he better not be…

She checked his pulse. There was movement. The worry fled from her lungs as she sucked in another wandering breath. Then she called his name, called it back to her from wherever his spirit was. “Adam, you gotta stop doing this to me. I can’t take it. I swear I can’t take it. Just look at me. We made it. We survived. Adam, please. I’m here, and I love you.”

No more doubt, no more second-guessing. The only thing that mattered right now was whether he opened his eyes.

And finally, he did.

“Emery,” he gasped. “It happened. Look.”

She rotated her torso. A mountain of smoke rose into a dark heaven. Streams of red, orange, and black polluted the horizon. The aftermath of destruction. It was the asylum. No, it used to be. She hadn’t even realized they had been so close to hell when Adam started to go guano on her. It was then, when her eyes lingered upon the scene in the distance, that a wave of heat finally hit her. She remembered studying something about nuclear bombs sophomore year. How they emitted some kind of radiation. But the details of the side effects eluded her. She wondered what it was that had caused the explosion, how many were dead, if there was indeed radiation, and if, right now, that radiation was looking for a way to creep inside her like a thief.

“Adam,” she said, exasperated. “Wha… How?”

He didn’t utter a word. Not a sound. He got up from the ground and gazed at the mile-away scene, dazed but not surprised.

“You knew?”

He turned back and slowly nodded.