Delete: Volume 3 (Shifter Series)

DELETE

Kim Curran

Don’t miss the other books by Kim Curran

Shift

Control

Glaze

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For my big sisters, Heidi and Natasha

Copyright © 2014 Kim Curran

Published by Xist Publishing

All Rights Reserved

No portion of this book may be reproduced without express permission from the publisher

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ISBN: 978-1-62395-731-5

eISBN: 978-1-62395-732-2

PROLOGUE

They say that as you’re dying, your life flashes before your eyes. That it’s the brain’s way of sorting through all the moments in your life, trying to find some way out of your current predicament. Hunting for an experience that might help. Maybe you watched a programme about snakes when you were ten years old, which will come in real handy when a black mamba has sunk its teeth into your leg. Or that time at a wedding when your uncle showed you how to tie a tourniquet with a napkin; well, it might just stop you from bleeding to death.

Everything is supposed to go crystal sharp and slow down, so you have time to think. Time to implement the plan that’s going to save your life.

Well, I can tell you, if you’re falling from the top of a thousand-foot-high building, there’s no TV programme or wise thing any drunk old uncle might have said that’s going to help you. Because, let’s face it, if you had learned to fly somewhere along the way, then you wouldn’t be falling.

And I was falling. Fast. With Frankie Anderson plummeting next to me, her tears peeling away in the wind. As the top of the Shard became a memory, everything that had happened to me over the past six months flashed before my eyes like a zoetrope. Flickering glimpses of experiences.

Aubrey smiling up at me from under a duvet.

Frankie pointing to the stars and explaining how we could change decisions beyond our lifetime.

A single tear falling down Aubrey’s cheek when she saw me kissing another girl.

My feet pounding on the pavement as Frankie Forced me to run and run – as she turned me into her puppet, like she had with so many other children before me.

Frankie’s laughter when I told her that I knew, that she took broken children and turned them into assassins.

The look on Aubrey’s face as she died in my arms.

I’d used a power I didn’t understand to impose my will on Frankie and her broken children. I’d made some abandon her, others kill themselves. I’d made her unpick all the threads of her life. And I’d done it all to save Aubrey, the girl that I loved.

But it had come with a cost.

All of those images flashed, blurring together like the streaking city lights. As the concrete rushed up to meet us, I’d Forced Frankie to make a choice: unravel every decision she’d ever made, right back to joining Project Ganymede, or die.

She’d made her choice. And I’d woken up in a world at war.

I’d peeled myself off the concrete in a new reality to find a London I didn’t recognise and an Aubrey who didn’t recognise me.

As I stood there looking at the ruined city, the question was, how much more was I willing to sacrifice to keep Aubrey safe? And would I ever find my way back home?

CHAPTER ONE

“We’re at war?” I said stupidly, struggling to take in what I was seeing.

A shattered London spun around me. The river, a dark abyss cutting through the smoking ruin of my city. St Paul’s, a fractured skeleton in front of me. City Hall, nothing more than a pile of twisted metal behind me.

The recorded echo of Big Ben’s chimes still rang in the air, played over hidden speakers. The clock tower that held the great bell was gone. Where it and the Houses of Parliament once stood, there was now a black, hungry crater. This wasn’t a war; this was the apocalypse.

I turned to look at Aubrey Jones, the only girl I had ever loved. Only moments ago, she was lying in my arms, her blood seeping into a golden carpet. Now, she was standing in front of me, a black helmet tucked under one arm, a patch covering one of her sea-green eyes, looking at me as if I was mad. As if I was a stranger.

I’d been so desperate to bring her back to me, so out of my mind with grief, I hadn’t thought about the consequences. No, I realised, as the last, mournful
bong
of Big Ben echoed across the water, that wasn’t true. I just hadn’t
cared
about the consequences. Without Aubrey, I’d wanted the whole world to burn.

I’d got exactly what I wanted.

“Are you OK, sir?” Aubrey said, and the word “sir” was like a blade in my gut.

My head was dizzy; my limbs strange and alien, like I’d stepped off a roller coaster. I took a step forwards. If I could explain that she knew me, tell her everything that had happened, we could work out another Shift. One that would keep her alive but wouldn’t bring this about – I saw a child’s red shoe lying next to a crumbling wall, weeds growing through the strap – this horror. There had to be a way out of here. I just had to think.

“You don’t look too good,” I heard her say as I took another step towards her. Everything swam before my eyes. My knees gave way and I collapsed to the floor. I didn’t even have the energy to stand, let alone think.

Zac was the first to reach me. “You’re bleeding.”

I followed his gaze down to my leg. There was a hole in the black combat trousers I wore. I rubbed at the fabric and my fingers came away damp.

“You’ve been shot,” Aubrey said, not moving a step closer.

I looked from the red stain on my hand to her face. “But I can’t feel anything.”

“It will be the adrenaline.” Zac squatted down next to me, hooked two fingers inside the hole in the trousers and pulled. The fabric tore with a jagged buzz, revealing a puncture wound in my leg the size of a fifty-pence piece and a steady trail of blood. Zac whistled through his teeth. “Turner. Med pack. Now,” he said.

A figure standing behind Aubrey jolted to attention and jogged forward. Judging by the black jumpsuit and body armour, I’d assumed she was a Regulator – one of the ex-Shifters who worked at ARES after they’d lost their powers. But when she pulled off her helmet, revealing dark, pretty eyes, a square face and a mop of messy brown hair, I realised she couldn’t have been much older than thirteen, fourteen maybe. Far too young to be a Regulator. She struggled to undo a small bag hooked to her belt.

“Give it here,” Aubrey said, yanking the pack off the girl and then throwing it to Zac.

I kept staring stupidly at the hole in my leg. Dark, almost black blood oozed out with each pulse. I went to poke my finger in the wound, to see how far it went, to see if it was really there, but Zac slapped my hand away. He unzipped the med pack and pulled out a white gauze dressing.

“Put pressure on it.” He put the cotton square on my leg and placed my hand on top of it. Blood stippled through the white after only a few seconds. “Trust you to get shot in the leg and not even notice.”

“I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I said, wincing as Zac tied a thin bandage around the gauze and pulled hard. Whatever had been keeping the pain at bay was wearing off. But the fogginess in my mind showed no sign of clearing.

Zac wrapped the remainder of the bandage around my leg four, five times and then tied it off. “That will have to do for now.”

Aubrey fidgeted next to us, checking the skies. “Time check?”

The final figure lifted the visor on his helmet and checked an oversized watch strapped over the cuff of his shirt. He too was young, with a plump, red face. I saw a bead of sweat roll down his temple. “Minus eighteen,” he said.

“They’ll have tracked the Shift by now,” the girl Zac had called Turner said, doing a bad job of keeping the panic out of her voice.

“Damn.” Aubrey looked down at me. “Can you walk?

“I can try.” I reached out my hand for her to help me to my feet. But it was Zac who got me up. I resented his strong arm around my back taking the weight I now found I couldn’t put on my leg. I wanted to shake him off, but I didn’t have the strength. Pain spread through my leg like heat.

Aubrey reached up and pressed a button on a collar around her neck. “Thirteen, report position.”

I jolted as I heard a voice in my ear and realised I, too, was wearing a throat mic and headset.

“Ref TQ 32008,” the voice said. “We won’t be able to stay around much longer. It’s getting hot.”

A buzzing screech passed overhead. We all looked up to see a burning trail cut across the sky. A moment later, a dull explosion sounded from a way off.

“Give us fifteen minutes,” Aubrey said, staring in the direction of the explosion. I could see a glow of light coming from behind the damaged buildings blocking my view.

“Can we make it in–” A second, louder explosion cut Zac off. It lit up the dark sky, revealing the broken London skyline.

“We’ll have to.” Aubrey yanked her helmet back on, threw my free arm over her shoulder, and we started to run.

“Wait,” I tried to say. “We need to talk.”

“No time, sir,” Aubrey said, pulling me forward.

The stabbing in my thigh got worse with each step. But I didn’t want to let Aubrey know. I tried my best to keep both legs moving as she and Zac half dragged, half carried me along the riverside. I felt the heat of her body against mine, caught the scent of vanilla. I tried not to think about the crushed buildings all around us or the sounds of explosions in the distance. The only thing that mattered to me right now was that she was alive. Everything else could wait.

Turner and the boy jogged ahead across Tower Bridge, stopping every now and then to check we were still with them. The Thames beneath us was inky black, not a single light from the buildings on either side reflected in the surface. The pain was becoming all-consuming and my eyesight was getting dim.

“Hang in there, Com,” Zac said. “Not much longer.”

We made it across the bridge but there was no slowing of pace. By the time we made it on to Fenchurch Street, my whole body had started to shake.

“He’s going into shock,” I heard a voice say, dull and distant as if coming from another room. My vision had narrowed to a pinprick of light. My heart pounded in my ears.

“Maybe I should sit down for a second.” I hit the ground.

I sensed movement around me. Shouting. Something tugging at my shirt and…

“Wow!” I screamed, as chemicals flooded into my heart. It didn’t just beat. It boomed. I looked down to see a large syringe sticking out from between my ribs, Aubrey’s hand still on the plunger.

“Still with us, sir?” she said, pulling the needle out. Her face and hair glowed like there was a halo around her. Her green eye was like an emerald. I reached out to touch her face, and she gently guided my hand back down to my side.

“Call me Scott,” I said, my words slurring. “Please.”

“OK. Are you still with us, Scott?”

“What did you give me?” I said, as Aubrey and Zac got me back on my feet. The pain in my leg had completely vanished, as had the buzzing in my head. I felt amazing.

“Mostly adrenaline.”

“Mostly?” Zac asked, raising his eyebrow at Aubrey.

She shrugged. “With a few extra kickers thrown in. For luck.”

“Can you stand?” Zac asked.

“I can fly!” I said, trying to catch the vapour trails pouring out of my hands.

Zac laughed and pulled me forward. “I got to get me some of this stuff.”

We pushed on, and after a minute, the warm fizzle of whatever Aubrey had given me faded enough that I was able to focus on what was happening. I recognised the road we were running down as Lombard Street. In my reality, it had been lined with gastropubs and glass-fronted offices; now there was nothing but boarded-up buildings and the burned-out wreckages of cars and tanks: the marks of street battles.

We paused for a moment, taking cover behind a crumbling brick wall. The word “Shine” had been scrawled in red paint on the wall. There was nothing shining about this city.