Fear My Mortality (18 page)

“Okay. So, I guess I’m just going to wander over there for a bit. Away from you. Or something.”

He laughed. “Nectar does weird stuff to you, that’s what you said.
Um, yeah
. You just grew back a pair of legs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who walked out of a burning car. After bursting into a thousand pieces, I might add.”

“I didn’t burst. I just kind of … moved around a bit. And anyway, you’re the only girl who’d complain.”

I tried not to laugh. It occurred to me that he really was kind of nice to look at. Actually … more than just nice. With his shoulders hunched over, his back muscles rippled, moving as he breathed, as though every movement he made had a purpose, a connection. For a moment, I considered fanning my fingers across his skin, over the curve of his shoulder blade. His back was so broad I didn’t think the tips of my fingers would even reach the base of his neck. He was all muscle and shadow in my light.

His voice became somber. “Seriously, Ava. I don’t think Dad knows nectar can do that. Heal, sure, but regrow a limb or two? Of course, I mean, I guess nobody’s ever had to regrow anything before … ”

“Right. Normal people don’t need to.”
Normal
people’s limbs reconnected with their bodies. I tried to keep my tone light, but I was glad he couldn’t see my face or the tear that dripped down my cheek. I swiped at it.

I needed answers. I needed to know who I was. What nectar did, helping me heal—no,
regrow
—I needed to know how. “Did you ever take it? Nectar, I mean?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really supposed to know about it. Worst kept secret in our house.”

The only way I would ever find out was to hand myself in to Cheyne and let him find out for me. That wasn’t going to happen. And nectar couldn’t be the answer to my mortality.

“Look, star girl,” Michael said. “Why don’t you go stand somewhere far away so I can get dressed.”

I was glad for the excuse to walk because I needed to escape my thoughts. Focusing on each step, I paced across the road to the house opposite, following the path where the guy had dragged the girl. There was no sign of our attackers. I decided to occupy myself by checking out the street and took off at a gentle jog up the road. I stopped when I reached the cul-de-sac at the end of the road and ran around it a couple of times until I figured that Michael must have had time to get his things and make himself decent.

As I jogged back to the house, the light faded even more. The faster I ran, the quicker it dimmed. By the time I reached him, I glowed like a soft sunset, a distant glimmer, and Michael didn’t cover his eyes this time. One hand hovered at his forehead, ready just in case, as I covered the distance between the street and our front door—what was left of it.

He dropped his hand as I approached. “That’s better.” He’d pulled on jeans and a shirt and found a cap as well. His duffel bag was slung across his shoulder. “We shouldn’t stay long. They’ve had time to get back to base and get reinforcements.”

“What about the girl?”

“She’ll be fine, you know that. A recovery dome and a flat surface to straighten her spine, that’s all it will take.”

“Wow, this stuff really doesn’t bother you.”

He took my shoulders. “Nobody cares, Ava. Why should they? There’s no permanent damage. The crazy thing is—this world needs you. It needs people who can die. Because now we might have to care about our lives. Each day would be precious.”

He pinned me with his eyes. “The people around us, they’ve lost their hearts. They just don’t know it.” He swallowed. “But you and me, both of us, are the end of everything they believe in. Your brother died and I’m the one who killed him. We are a walking reminder that death might not be hundreds of years away anymore—it might be tomorrow. Some people are so sick, they’re fascinated by that. Some people are so scared, they’ll do anything to make us go away. Then there are other people like the Bashers, who see an opportunity to use you to kill their enemies. If your genetics are the key to figuring out death, they won’t stop until they get hold of you.”

I stayed frozen to the spot. I could hardly speak. “But, I thought they wanted to kill me because I’m weak.” I stared at Michael as he let go of my arms, a chill forming in my heart. “I thought they wanted to kill me because they
could
. Because I’m one weak person they can actually, finally, get rid of.”

Michael shook his head. “You’re far more valuable than that.”

The Basher boy’s words rang in my mind. He’d said they wanted me alive. He hadn’t killed me even though he had the chance. Cheyne had taken my blood and bone marrow and then let me go. All of them had opportunities to kill me if they wanted to, but they hadn’t.

“But that means … If they can figure out a way to use me to kill people, that means it’s true what everyone’s saying about me. They’re right about me.” My heart stopped beating and my vision blurred. “I could kill people, Michael. They’re right to be afraid of me.”

Michael inhaled sharply and suddenly gathered me up in his arms, pulling me close. “No,” he said, his voice determined as he crushed me close. “That’s not true. It’s not you, it’s the people who want to use you.”

“What about your dad? Is that what he and Cheyne want too?”

“I thought it was about nectar with my dad, but I honestly don’t know anymore.” His heart beat fast against my ear. “I’m not going to let them get hold of you. Not the Bashers, not my dad.” He drew back so I could see his face. “Do you believe me?”

I wanted to, very badly.

“That girl will be hunting you again in a couple of hours.” He looked up and down the street, as though he expected the Basher girl to appear at any moment. “We need to keep moving.”

“Our ride is gone,” I said, gesturing back at the smoldering car.

He didn’t seem to care. “C’mon then. Shank’s pony.”

“What pony?”

“Shank’s pony. It means on foot.” He smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever as he released me, keeping hold of my hand. “It’s something my granddad used to say.” Instead of running down the street, he urged me around the side of our house toward the backyard.

“Wait a minute. Where are we going?”

“We have to stay away from the roads. We can cut through your backyard.”

“But I have to meet Hannah.”

He stopped so suddenly that I smacked into the back of him. The impact zapped me and made my head spin. The nectar was definitely wearing off.

“Explain.”

“Hannah called. I arranged to meet her this morning. She’s going to lend me some money. We need money … ” My voice trailed off at the look on his face.

“Did you tell her where you were?”

She’d told me about spending the weekend at the recovery center. She’d said she wanted to see me. “She asked where I was, and I told her I was at my house.”

The expression on his face made me wish I had somewhere to hide. I knew what he was thinking. I shook my head. “No.”

“That girl back there. That Basher … ”

I couldn’t believe that my best friend would betray me like that. “That was not Hannah. She is not one of them.”

“She said we’d recognize her.”

“No, she said
you’d
recognize her. Not me.” I glared, growing brighter with each word. There was no way the Basher girl was Hannah.

It couldn’t be her because that would mean that everything about her was an act: the claim that she’d never died before, that she didn’t know if she was a slow healer. The look of disgust on her face when she’d talked about the Bashers burying slow healers underground. Then I thought about how easily she’d talked about slow healers, how quickly she’d shrugged off the Basher’s hatred. The first time I’d asked my parents about them, Mom had looked me in the eye and told me that some people were raised to hate anyone who was different.

I wondered if the look of disgust I’d seen on Hannah’s face was about burying people or about the fact that some people healed slowly. I remembered the way the girl back at the explosion had shouted that the only way for everything to stop was for me to die, that Josh died because of me. That she wouldn’t let her family end up in cells.

“If they found out where I was because of that phone call, it’s because they were listening in. Not because she told them.” My words sounded hollow in my ears. I wanted to believe they were true. I didn’t want to believe that Hannah could have hurt me like that.

“I’m sorry, Ava, even if it wasn’t her, there’ll be more of them.” He looked past my shoulder. “They want you alive and they aren’t about to give up. Especially not with the Hazards looking for you too.”

My skin prickled as his hand snaked around my arm, and we sprinted across the backyard to the high paling fence at the back. He dropped to the ground, bent one knee, and motioned for me to step up.

I eyed the height of the fence as I approached. Even with a leg up, there was no way I could get over it. “I can’t fly.”

He looked me over. “You’re a dancer, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Then leap.”

I took a step back and pelted toward him, aiming my right foot onto the open palms on his knee. I pushed off and felt the extra lift as he propelled my foot higher. Air rushed past my face, light streaked, and I was over the fence. I landed safely on the other side, in a gap between two trees, surprised that I didn’t break an ankle. That must have been the last of the nectar working. Wondering if the Hazards had evacuated this side of the street, I scanned the backyard I’d landed in and a flicker at the window told me they hadn’t.

I turned to whisper to Michael through the fence and found that he’d already landed on one knee close by. He stumbled a little as he rose, as though he’d hurt something, but in the next instant, he was up and running, calling me to follow. I sprinted after him, dodging around a kid’s bike and glancing up at the second-story window. I was sure there was a small face peeking over the window ledge.

“Michael!” I caught up to him at the side of the house. He paused, scanning the street with his keen eyes. In the distance, sirens wailed. “This house isn’t empty. There’s a kid in there.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“They must have stayed.” He frowned. “That’s a bit strange—”

We both turned as the sirens became significantly louder. “Hazards?” I asked.

“Fire engines.” He grimaced. “There was a huge explosion, right?” He saw my expression. “Don’t worry. It’s a good thing. They’re with City Council. There’ll be questions. Reports to be written. It won’t be swept under the carpet.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” I couldn’t help the bad feeling in my stomach as I crept along the side of my neighbor’s house, ducking beneath a window. I didn’t think the local authorities would have enough clout to get in anyone’s way.

Michael tugged on my arm. “I think we should head down there.” He pointed to an empty block at the end of the street. There was a walkway through to a park on the other side. I started to nod, but something cold pressed into my ribs. I froze and didn’t dare look. “Michael?”

His expression changed from enquiring to alarmed. “Hey, kid. You should put that down.”

I swiveled my eyes without turning my head and saw young hands at the end of a long rifle. Energy burst through my system, causing the golden haze around me to brighten, igniting the last of the nectar. My brain told me to freeze, stay still, but my hand shot out, ready to grab the gun.

An older hand got to it first, snatching the gun up high and out of my reach. I followed the line of the rifle to its new handler, taking a precautionary step back as I did so.

The guy held the gun in a tight, familiar grip, hovering over the trigger. He had blond hair in dreadlocks that fell over his face and down his broad chest. Judging by the length, he was at least thirty years old.

With a twist of his lips, he said, “I’m Jeremiah. I’ve been waiting for you to hop over the fence.”

He said, “I called the fire brigade. They’ll slow that Hazard down—the one with the red hair coming after you—but he’ll be here in no time.”

He was talking about Officer Reid.

The younger boy’s eyes were huge, glued to the two of us. It didn’t seem to bother him that I’d tried to take the gun from him. “We heard the explosion,” he said. “The Bashers are after you.”

I murmured. “Everyone is.” All of them racing to get to me first. The Hazards to keep me out of the wrong hands. The Bashers to use me to kill. And Michael’s dad and Cheyne, with Reid doing their bidding, I didn’t know exactly what they wanted yet, but for now I had to assume their motives were the same as the Bashers.

Jeremiah cocked the gun, training it on Michael. “I know you aren’t afraid of this. My little brother saw you walk out of that burning car, so I know, see. I know I can’t touch you.”

Michael’s eyes flickered as though he was calculating how many split seconds it would take to get in front of me, imagining the impact and readying for the energy it would take to regenerate.

But the guy had already turned the gun on me. He said, “I could blow a good hole in her.”

His brother tugged at his shirtsleeve. “No, Jerro. You can’t shoot the angel.”