The Legend (15 page)

 

chapter 22

E
verything seems to be even more urgent now that Morgan has defected to NUSA. We have no idea how much she will reveal to them and we are constantly vigilant. A NUSA convoy could arrive on our doorstep any day. Fiona Hartwell has been offered a place on the council, given that she is in charge of a large number of the soldiers currently residing on the Academy grounds.

“She
won't
tell them,” Michael iterates loudly, for what feels like the hundredth time. This is the second council meeting since we have been home. The General, although delighted by the progress we have made with the lab – we have already successfully Gifted seven men – is uncompromising.

“Son, we have no idea what your sister will do. Her allegiance has shifted. We need to prepare for the worst.”

I don't correct him, not even to spare Michael's feelings. He speaks the truth. We cannot possibly predict what Morgan will do now. I can only hope that her love for her brother and her inherent desire to keep him safe will ensure her silence. I suspect that Morgan did not want to give up the Legion – that she did not want to betray us. Rather, I think she simply wanted an out, for herself and for Michael. She wanted an ordinary life, to let others continue the fight without her. I also suspect that this was more for Michael's benefit than her own. We had all noticed Michael's sudden urge to be involved – his recklessness, his desire to take action. It worried Morgan, I know it did. And what better way to ensure he stayed out of danger than retreating from the war altogether, and keeping him out of harm's way?

Unfortunately, her plan had backfired. The very thing that she was trying to prevent had resulted in her worst fears coming true. Michael had abandoned her for the cause that could get him killed. I still harbour a secret hope that Morgan will find her way back to us, but for now we can do nothing but wait.

“Are you sure we shouldn't move everyone to safety?” Adam voices his concern and I see Fiona's head lift in his direction. She has had plenty of time to watch Adam and I am almost certain that his natural philanthropy is not lost on her. Adam is inspiring – to know him is to like him. He is in favour of moving our people once more until the threat is contained, but this is not possible.

“We've discussed this,” the General argues, “and logistically it can't be done. Besides, we have nowhere else to go.”

“He's right, Adam,” I respond. “But I do think we should get everyone who is not required to be here at the Academy off the premises. We can send them all into town.
If
,” I meet Michael's agitated glance, “if Morgan does spill, she will tell them about the Academy – not the town. Her gripe is with me, not our civilians.”

Everyone agrees, although it dawns on me that Alex and Aidan will be leaving too. My heart sinks at the thought, but Adam is right – it is too risky for them to remain here.

“The children will be moved tomorrow,” my father speaks out and then, catching my eye, he continues, “
all
of them.”

I nod, understanding his underlying message.

I try to follow Reed as everyone files out of the room, summoning the courage to tell him the truth about Brooke, but I am intercepted by Fiona.

“You have my full support,” she begins briskly. “Just tell us what you want us to do.”

“Thank you,” I reply gratefully. “I can't tell you how much that means to us.”

“I would like to ask if my men can join the training programme,” she continues, barely acknowledging my gratitude.

“Absolutely – you can arrange everything with Kwan.” Fiona and Kwan seem to get along well, perhaps because they are so much alike. Fiona is also serious and disciplined. She gives me a perfunctory nod and strides down the corridor.

I follow after her and soon enough I come across Reed, who has stopped to chat to Crackerjack and Little Chef – two of Adam's Ordinary. To my surprise, he is heading towards the library. I watch from just inside the door as he walks between the shelves. He seems very familiar with the set-up and strides purposefully to one shelf in particular where he lifts up a thick book and then settles down on the floor to read. I move along the adjacent row, peeping at him through the neatly stacked books. When I am directly opposite him, I come to a halt, content just to watch as he leans back against the wall of books behind him, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. I can just make out the cover of the book and I press my lips together to keep from smiling.

“You gonna say what you want to say, or you gonna stalk me for the rest of the day?” he drawls suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his book.

“You know, I always thought your knowledge of the stars was impressive,” I reply, making my way around the shelf. “Now I know why.” I stop beside him, nodding my head at the astronomy book he is holding.

“You learn something new every day,” he grins, but his next words remind me of the unpleasant task at hand. “What's up?”

I don't answer immediately and he drops the book onto the floor, gets to his feet and scans my face. “What is it, Tiny?” he repeats, concern etching a slight frown on his brow.

“Reed,” I touch his arm lightly and he glances down at my hand. I feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers and my heart flip-flops in my chest. Those wicked green eyes lock on mine and I deliberately take a step back and break the contact. “There's something you need to know, it's about Brooke.”

His smile falters, a look of bewilderment replacing it. “What about her?”

“She has the Power of Three.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. She's a lucky kid – not many people would survive all three procedures. Present company excluded, of course. Who would risk their child's life like that, though?”

Just as I did, Reed immediately assumes Brooke's parents must have forced her to undergo the life-threatening process of being Gifted.

“Her mother didn't risk her life. Brooke has never undergone any procedures.”

“That's impossible.”

“It's not. We're sure.”

“How can you know that?”

“We ran some tests . . .” There is no easy way to say what I am about to, so I just come out with it. “She's yours.”

“What?” his smile is back, disbelieving and suspicious, as if he is waiting for the punchline to some joke I am playing.

“She's your child. You're her father.”

“No way!” he interrupts, shaking his shaggy blond head. “I would know if . . .”

“Would you?” I press. “I mean, would you really? It's not like you didn't . . .” I can't bring myself to finish the sentence.

It's no secret that Reed is a ladies' man, his past is peppered with women who had loved and lost. He must be thinking along the same lines, because he stops arguing abruptly. His face drains of colour and he looks almost pleading. He knows I would never lie to him, and I would never make such a bold statement unless I was absolutely sure.

“She has your eyes,” I say gently. He gives a half-laugh, half-hysterical gasp, and runs his hands through his hair.

“You're sure?”

“We performed a blood test.” This brings him up short and Ican practically see his brain whirring as he processes this information and puts two and two together, realising that his blood test was a farce.

“Rebecca, that was weeks ago,” he states flatly, and I can do nothing but nod meekly. “You mean to tell me that you and Jeffrey went behind my back, took my blood, and have known about this for weeks?”

“I only found out the day we were leaving for Missouri. I didn't think it was the right time to drop it all on you.”

“That wasn't your call to make! Who the hell put you in charge of
my
life?”

“No one! I wasn't . . . I just didn't know how to . . .” I cast around for the right words but he beats me to it.

“So, why are you telling me now?”

“I thought . . . it's been so hard, what with losing the baby, and I thought . . .”

“You're kidding, right?” he cuts across me again. “What? You thought that you'd offer me a replacement? Are you fucking crazy?” I flinch at the hostility, opening my mouth to try to explain.

“Her mother,” he interrupts, his abrupt change of subject leaving me reeling, “what did she look like?”

“I never saw her,” I admit, thinking back to the day we found Brooke in the alley. “Jethro is the only one . . . he found her body.” Reed turns on his heel and I stumble after him. “He said she died of dehydration. Can we at least talk about this?” I ask desperately as we emerge into the sunshine.

“Not now,” he snarls. “Get out of my way.”

With Reed not talking to me, and the imminent departure of Alex and Aidan who will be moving into town with all other non-military personnel, I don't think my day can possibly get any worse. As it turns out, I am wrong. After lunch Kwan seeks me out in the dining hall.

“It's Oliver,” he murmurs, his eyes hollow as I hasten after him towards the lab. “Your father's pretty cut up about it,” Kwan adds as we enter the cold, clinical room. My father is among the small group huddled around the bed.

“How did this happen?” I ask, rounding on the General who I suspect is the main culprit.

“He volunteered,” my father explains, looking anguished.

“We agreed,” I insist, “we agreed that we would never risk it again!” A quiet sob emanates from the corner of the room and I notice Sofia sitting near Oliver's bedside. Henry is rubbing her shoulder, his own face etched with grief. Worse is the sight of Heath, standing stock-still beside Oliver's body.

“The boy knew the risks,” the General intervenes bluntly.

“It's too dangerous! And now you have proof of it. Oliver is dead.” My gut twists when I think of the good-natured man who had pushed Brooke on her swing only days before.

“With all due respect, Miss Davis, as usual you are letting your emotions get in the way of your leadership. Having soldiers with the Power of Three will give us the edge we need to actually win this war!”

“Really?” I stride across the room and pull back the sheet covering Oliver's face. He is as white as the fabric itself, his eyes closed. He could be sleeping, but Oliver will never wake up. “Tell him that,” I say scathingly. “Oliver left NUSA to find his family and to fight for us. And now, thanks to your actions, we have lost a valuable member of our army. How many will die before you succeed?”

“You and McCoy survived,” he says, pointedly.

“We were fools!” I hiss. “Reckless and stupid, and just plain lucky!”

“She's right,” my dad intones. “I told you we shouldn't attempt it, Harrison.”

“What's going on?” Reed enters the room and with one look at Oliver's lifeless body he pieces it together. “Poor bastard,” he shakes his head ruefully.

“Never again,” I insist, meeting the General's defiant face. Neither my father nor Henry will meet my eye. “That's an order.”

 

 

chapter 23

O
ver the past few weeks I have spent a lot of time with Alex and Brooke and I cannot help but notice that Aidan is conspicuous by his absence, which is why I am stunned when he shows up at my door long after dinner one evening.

“Hi,” I greet him shyly, not quite able to repress the memory of our last conversation in the dojo. I am also acutely aware of the fact that he has been spending time with Sofia and I am surprised by how much it bothers me. I step aside so he can enter, and I shut the door behind him, tugging at the bottom of my oversized T-shirt, which falls an inch above mid-thigh. It is a humid and muggy evening and I discarded my pants earlier.

“What's up?” I ask casually. “I haven't seen you around lately.”

“I've been busy,” he answers cryptically and I can't think of anything else to say, so I take a seat on the edge of the bed, surreptitiously arranging the blankets over the expanse of bare flesh.

“Do you remember your prom?” he asks suddenly.

Of course I remember my prom. I had worked myself up into a frenzy, grand delusions of being miraculously transformed into Cinderella and finally coming out of societal hibernation. It was only a few days before that I suddenly realised I didn't have a date and, unable to bear the rejection of asking any of the boys in class, I had announced that I wouldn't be going after all. I had tried to keep my voice light and pretend it was no big deal, but Aidan had seen right through me.

“It's your prom, Bex, you can't miss it.”

“Why not?”

“It's a rite of passage, you'll regret it if you don't go.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I'm older and wiser than you are.” His brown eyes met mine and I felt an embarrassing red flush rising on my cheeks.

“Who will I go with, though?” I asked, not wanting to meet his gaze, but able to confess to him what I couldn't to our parents. “I'm scared to ask anyone . . . what if they say no?”

“You're going with me,” he announced immediately, turning serious, and the way that he said it made my heart beat a little faster, although I didn't understand why at the time.

“You bought me my dress,” I murmur, answering his question as I snap myself back to the small dorm room.

“You looked so beautiful,” he turns from the window to look at
me. “Everyone was staring at you.”

“Oh please,” I disagree. “They were probably staring at you – you were far too popular for your own good.”

“They were staring at
you
,” he repeats, ignoring me, and then: “I was jealous as hell.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn't think it mattered. Until that night you snuck into my bedroom, I never suspected you felt the same way I did.”

I flush slightly as I recall the night, shortly after I had my procedures, that I had crept into Aidan's bedroom and started something that had lasted two beautiful, bittersweet years. I had grown up with Aidan, and had so many opportunities, but I had never realised how deeply I felt for him until I stood on the brink of losing him for ever.

“How stupid we were, to waste so much time,” I admit, before I can stop myself. Aidan pulls out the chair from my desk and turns it around, taking a seat facing me, his arms draped over the back.

“It's better this way. If we had been together longer I might never have let you go.”

“Maybe that would've been better. None of this would have happened. Life would be simple.”

“You don't mean that,” he shakes his head. “I know you, Bex. This cause is your life.”

The irony that this conversation is almost the exact opposite of the one we had when I first woke up is not lost on me. Then he had been trying to convince me that the Resistance had brought me nothing but pain, and I had been the one defending it. So much has changed since that first conversation. I have let go of my anger, but Aidan's reaction surprises me. It is not a resigned acceptance in his voice, but rather a fierce combination of pride and conviction.

“This cause has cost me dearly,” I sigh.

“In what way?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

Even though things are better, I still feel as if I have lost both Aidan and Reed through a combination of circumstance and my own foolish actions.

“You know you haven't really lost either of us. In case you haven't noticed, we're both still here.”

“Things will never be the same,” I murmur, thinking of Sofia, and of Brooke. Both men have different priorities now. I should be grateful, but instead a feeling of bitterness has settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Maybe not,” he agrees, “but we're already making progress. A few weeks ago you wouldn't even talk to either of us. I wondered if you ever would.”

“I behaved atrociously. Neither of you deserved it. I'm sorry.”

“You lost a child, Rebecca,” he excuses me without any reservation.

“So did Reed,” I say hollowly and the silence that follows speaks volumes.

“What did you come here for?” I ask eventually. Steeling himself, he gets off the chair and pushes it back into place. In just two strides he is towering above me and he takes my hands, pulling me to my feet.

“I came to tell you goodbye,” he murmurs. I blink, feeling the sting of unbidden tears prickling at my eyelids and willing myself not to cry. I don't respond when he lowers his head and kisses me gently on the mouth, and I clench my hands into fists, fighting the urge to grab hold of him and never let him go.

“He was right,” he whispers cryptically as he reaches the door and I peer at him in the soft light. “You are one in a million, Bex. Don't ever forget that.”

The following morning I have to contend with Alex, who is protesting about having to leave the Academy grounds.

“I don't want to go, Mom,” he whines, hopping from one foot to the other.

“You have to,” I insist, looking around for Aidan, who should be here to say goodbye. “All the kids are going. It won't be for long.”

“Is Brooke coming?” he asks, scanning the crowd milling around us.

“Yes.” I spot her with Reed, who is racing her up and down the length of the courtyard. Alex spots them too and rushes off to join in, his feigned sulk forgotten. The past few days Reed has been spending time with Brooke and when they are together like this it strikes me as impossible that we didn't notice the similarity before. Brooke is Reed's double, from her dark-blonde hair to her mischievous green eyes. She even has his dimples.

“Has he told her?” I ask Kwan who is standing nearby, watching. Reed is still not talking to me.

“No,” he replies. “I think he's worried about confusing her, and he doesn't want her to know until the fighting is over. Just in case. He doesn't want her ever to have to go through losing another parent.”

“She won't,” I insist.

“The sooner this war is over, the better.”

As we wait for Adam and his Ordinary to assemble everyone and organise the mass exodus of the men, women and children who are being moved to the relative safety of the town, I lean back against the cold brick of the administration block and content myself with watching Reed and the children playing. I do not notice Henry until he stops next to Reed, his face ashen. I stand upright, a cold dread trickling down my spine, and watch as Reed gestures frantically, his eyes widening as Henry talks. In the instant that his green eyes lift to meet mine, I know that something is terribly wrong. The noise around me fades to nothing as Reed calls Michael over, pointing at Alex and Brooke, and then he is moving towards me with unprecedented speed. In a flash, he is at my side, taking hold of my elbow and jostling me through the crowd.

“What is it?” I ask as we race towards the main building.

“It's Aidan,” he breathes, shoving Chase out of our way. If it weren't for the vice-like grip he has on my arm, my legs would have crumpled beneath me. Sensing this, Reed slips his arm around my waist and with him supporting most of my body weight, we finally break free of the crowd.

As he steers us in the direction of the lab, my worst fears are confirmed and I give a howl of anguish, breaking free from him and hurtling towards the stairs.

“Rebecca!” Reed yells after me, but I ignore him. I burst through the door of the outer office of the lab, knocking over a small desk, and my father leaps up from where he is slumped in a blue backed metal chair. Without thinking, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and ram him bodily into the wall behind him.

“You son of a bitch!” I scream, shaking him so hard that his head bangs against the concrete and his glasses fall to the ground.

“Rebecca!” Reed tugs futilely at my arms.

I hear a door open and at the sight of Harrison Ross's weathered face, my rage takes a different turn. I drop my father, who lands painfully at my feet, and throw myself on the General, ramming aside a small steel trolley in the process. The sight of the dislodged medical apparatus spinning in all directions only serves to fuel my anger, and I grab hold of a scalpel, drawing it up over my head as I pin the General to the ground with my legs.

“No!” Reed's voice echoes around the room and as the scalpel flies down towards the General's chest, two strong arms hoist me up into the air, so that the blade only just scratches the surface of the older man's chest, leaving a thin red slit behind. Reed knocks the scalpel from my hand and forces me against the opposite wall, his forearm against my throat. Even with his incredible strength, the muscles in his tanned arm are bulging with the effort of restraining me.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he roars, not at me, but at the small group behind him. “Rebecca,” he continues more gently, forcing me to look at him. “Calm down.”

“It's Aidan!” I screech, the sound raspy against the pressure exerted on my windpipe. My eyes are wild and darting everywhere, the blood pumping in my head making me both dizzy and desperate. “It's Aidan,” I repeat hoarsely, squeezing my eyes shut, the pain unbearable. When I open my eyes again, a myriad of emotions crosses his face. Concern, sympathy, shock and, lastly, the most painful realisation.

“Rebecca,” my father approaches cautiously, peering at me over Reed's rigid shoulder. His words, when they come, turn me weak with relief. “It's going to be okay. He survived. Aidan's alive.”

Reed slowly eases his hold and I sink to the ground, my head in my hands. The floor is cold but I barely notice and I can hear the activity all around me – Henry tending the General's wound, Sofia returning the items to the trolley and setting the furniture back in place.

“Bex,” my father's voice is close to me, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. I raise my head grudgingly and gaze at him.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn't want to do it. Truly, I didn't. I agree with you – it's too great a risk. But Aidan insisted.”

“You should have said no,” I bite out scathingly.

“I did, initially, but he went behind my back. He's been training with Kwan, and he and Sofia have been running all sorts of tests, trying to establish if he was strong enough to go through with it.”

I think back to the evening in the library, when Aidan had left with Sofia. So that's what he had been up to. My relief at the fact that nothing romantic was going on is overshadowed only by my anger that he could be so incredibly stupid.

“What did you do to him?” I ask, changing the subject. “Strength or speed?”

“Both.” The answer is not unexpected.

“He's an idiot.” I shake my head. “Why would he do this?”

“Why do you think?” My dad smiles sadly, but Reed clears his throat.

“I think I might have the answer to that question.” It is Reed who answers, and I look up to find him standing beside us. I am too drained to get up and he slides down the wall to sit beside me. My father discreetly moves away and ushers the others out. The General casts a long, lingering look over his shoulder as he leaves, his eyes cold as ice.

“What happened?” I croak.

“I goaded him,” Reed admits ruefully. “Just after you and I . . . well, after that night.” I cringe as I recall how I threw myself at him in his bedroom. “You were so cold, so detached. I suspected that Aidan would be the one to get through to you, so I went to see him.”

“And?”

“And he said he had a plan, but that it would be dangerous.” He pauses and I raise my brows, waiting. “I told him that if it meant bringing you back I didn't give a damn how dangerous it was. I mighta mentioned that his life meant nothing compared with yours.”

“Reed,” I groan.

“I didn't for one second think that
this
would be his big plan, I didn't think he was that much of an idiot.” His face turns serious. “I swear, Tiny, I would never have let him go through with it.”

“Bex,” my father's voice calls softly from the door to the lab, “he's awake.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” I ask as I reach Aidan's bedside. He looks the same, and yet different, somehow. Despite his recent procedure he is glowing with good health.

“I was tired of you and Alex kicking my ass at football,” he jokes.

I don't laugh, and he quickly composes himself, taking on an expression of serious contriteness that is nowhere near believable.

“You could have died, Aidan. It's not funny. How did you expect me to tell Alex,
again
, if something had happened to you? Oliver died just a few days ago attempting exactly the same thing.”

“I had to,” he meets my gaze levelly.

“For me?” I ask. “Do you really think that this is what I wanted? That this would bring me back to you?”