Earthquake (21 page)

I don’t think
I’m on the right side.

I’m not convinced there
is
a right side.

Trust ye the Curatoria but tenuously, and the Reduciata not at all.
The words from Quinn Avery’s journal run through my head in a scream.

But they’re a single force now!
Does the fact that none of the other Earthbounds know the brotherhoods are working together even matter?

I
know, and I’m still helping Daniel.

What does that say about me?

Daniel turns to me and, after a moment, holds out his hand.

To escort me up the stairs?

I shake my head and hold tight to Logan. Daniel’s face darkens just a little. That wasn’t what he wanted, but I can’t simply act like this completely unjustified slaughter didn’t happen.

He continues to hold out his hand, pushing it closer. At the same time he pins me with his eyes—daring me to defy him.

I dare.

I duck around Logan and flee. When I look back Logan is standing frozen in indecision.

When did I stop being the one who hung back because of fear? I don’t know, but now I run, tearing up the stairs and weaving around corners until I’m almost lost.

But not quite.

I’m around the corner from the security wing.

I don’t think. I don’t consider. I just shove through those doors.

“Let me in,” I demand of the two security people sitting at the desk. “Now!” I shout when they don’t move fast enough. They unlock the doors, and I don’t wait for them to close behind me.

I run to Benson.

His arms wrap around me, holding me tight to his chest, his mouth close to my ear, and the ragged sound of his breathing echoes so loudly it becomes the only sound in my world.

“I can’t go back,” I say, my breath coming so fast, my throat spasming; it feels like sobs are coming, threatening to overwhelm me, but I’m talking too quickly to let them truly take over. “I can’t. Daniel he—he just killed a man. No trial, no jury, he didn’t even get to speak up in his own defense, and then he—he—and then he was dead. Dear gods, Benson, he just killed him.”

“It’s okay,” Benson says softly, soothingly, his hands clenched around my arms so tightly I’m not sure if he thinks he’s comforting me or holding me for comfort. But it seems to work both ways, and I don’t care that his grip makes my arms throb. I need it.

“It’s not okay. Benson, it’s never going to be okay. What the hell am I doing helping someone like this?”

“You’re saving billions of people in the world,” he whispers. “And then we’re all leaving.”

His words finally get through. This isn’t our home; this isn’t our life. We were never going to stay.

I just needed to be reminded.

“Leaving,” I repeat numbly.

“Together,” he whispers. And I latch onto that word. “Daniel’s a cruel bastard, and Sammi and Mark had good reason not to trust him,” Benson murmurs. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s the one who has what you need to save everyone.” His eyes dart to the two-way mirror before he whispers, “Do you think you can finish today?”

The mirror. I forgot. I didn’t think of anything except Benson. They probably heard everything.

But how much could it possibly matter? What the hell could they tell Daniel that would have any effect? We’re almost out of time; Daniel said so yesterday. Twenty-four hours, the end of today. And then we have to leave. There may as well be bright red numbers counting down on the huge screen in the atrium.

I follow Benson’s line of sight to the mirror, but I shake my head and turn back. It’s too late. I don’t care what they hear anymore.

“I have to, or Daniel will evacuate us. He says the Reduciates are going to attack but . . .” I hesitate. If the Curatoria and Reduciata are working together, why would Reduciates be attacking? They wouldn’t. It’s yet another lie. Why is Daniel
really
in such a hurry?

I push that thought away—it’s not important enough to reach the top of my priority list at the moment. I’ll probably be analyzing Daniel’s motives until the end of my days. However many—or few—I have left. For now, I have to focus. “Thomas was right, about the protein thing,” I whisper to Benson. “But we—I still have to put it into the old vaccine. Transform it so it can use the vehicle of the last one.” I scrunch my fists against my eyelids. “I don’t even know what that means, and I have to figure out a way to do it in less than eight hours.” I slump against him, my forehead resting on his chin. “I’m just so tired.”

His arms rise to envelop me, and I feel small.

Not bad small. Small enough to disappear into Benson’s arms. To hide from the world.

Small like an ant, I think, and a tiny smile touches my lips.

Like
two
ants.

Two ants who are just big enough to be each others’ worlds.

It’s so hard to even comprehend that it has literally been only a month since I discovered I could
make
things. Since the first time Benson and I kissed. Two weeks since the
last
time Benson and I kissed. Now I rub my nose against his warm neck and breathe against his skin, needing the comfort that emanates from it.

From his mouth.

“Benson,” I say, and somehow our lips are mere millimeters apart.

And I lean forward.

A tiny whimper escapes me before I sink against his mouth. Searching, taking, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer. His arms tighten around me as he kisses me back. “Harder,” I say. “Hold me tighter.” Already I can barely breathe, but I need to feel him even more. To know that he’s
here
. That he’s one thing the world, the Curatoriates—
Daniel
—cannot take from me.

His teeth scrape at my bottom lip because I won’t pull back, not even to give him a breath of air, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. Maybe a little, but in that way that reminds me I can feel. That I’m not numb. And that’s what I want.

Only when my forehead is damp from clenching every muscle in my body so hard—trying to hold him tighter—do I slowly relax. “I have to go back, don’t I?”

“No,” he says. And for a moment I dream that maybe that’s the truth. “You don’t
have
to. But I know you, Tave. And I know that you won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t finish what you started.”

I know he’s right. But I steal one more kiss before I pull in a shuddering breath and swipe my arms across my face, removing any traces of kissing or tears. I cling to Benson’s hand like a little child. It’s too much for one person to bear, but he seems willing to share the load. “Be ready,” I whisper.

Then I let my fingers fall away from his.

I walk to the door. It opens. And though every cell in my body is screaming at me not to, I walk away. He’s right; I have to.

I leave the security wing and nearly run into Thomas. He’s alone, strangely, and it makes me wonder where Alanna is. His face is panicked, and he calms considerably when he sees me.

“Oh good. Can we talk? Quickly?”

In a moment everything from this morning—from before the horrific broadcast, the terrible killing—comes back. “Yes. Yes! Go down to the atrium, find Logan.”
Oh dear gods, Logan. He’s going to hate me.
“Tell him we need to meet in my special room. He knows where it is.”

Thomas hesitates.

“You
need
to see something,” I say. I have to show him the hidden Reduciata prison. If nothing else, to assuage the irrational fear that I imagined the whole thing. I give him quick directions. “It’s a very private place where we can talk.”

He finally nods. “I’ll go get him.”

“Thank you,” I breathe.

We part ways, and as I enter my secret room, I realize I still haven’t eaten breakfast. No wonder I’m so tired. I create a large container of trail mix and nervously eat handfuls as I count the seconds waiting for Thomas and Logan to show up.

Finally a tiny knock on the door. I turn the knob and the two slip in, clicking the door quietly closed behind them.

“Are you okay?” Logan asks. It seems like a strange question. Even if it were possible to be
okay
after that display, in the face of everything else, would it matter?

“No,” I answer honestly. “But I don’t think I’m going to be anything approaching
okay
until I leave this place.”

“You and me both,” Logan murmurs.

Thomas nods, his eyes closing for a few seconds. “Believe me, I understand.” I remember how many years—lifetimes—he and Alanna have spent in hiding.

“Where’s Alanna?” I ask.

“Keeping watch. Making sure no one comes down this hallway. I’ll tell her everything later.” He hesitates. “Are you going back to the lab?”

“I have to.”

He pauses. “What’s your next step?”

“Transferring the isolated protein into the vaccine. Something about dosage.”

Thomas waves those words away. “Do you think you’ll get that far today?”

“Maybe, but you know we have to test it.”

“You don’t think he’ll just test it on the humans here?” Logan asks.

“After this morning they’d line up to volunteer, wouldn’t they?” I can’t hide the cynicism in my voice.

“After this morning half of them would walk in front of a gun for him,” Thomas says. “He’s . . . he’s brilliant.”

I nod, my voice catching in my throat. “He’s also made it so they won’t just let me leave until I’m done.”

“Not out the front gates anyway,” Thomas agrees. “At this point you’ll not only need to escape but find a away to do it right under his nose.”

“He must know I can.”

“Certainly.” Thomas hesitates, then moves closer and puts his hands on my shoulders. “But I’m not sure if he knows that
you
know that. You hide your independence well around him.”

“I’m not hiding; he makes me feel useless,” I confess, not sure just when I realized it. Daniel is the one who has told me time and time again that I’m
necessary
, but only for my transforming ability. The insinuation is that the rest of me is interchangeable. I’m certain now that he’s done it on purpose. Brilliant is the least of what he is. A long-term strategist with his own best interests in mind.

But what else could you expect from the leader of a millennia-old brotherhood of gods?

“We all need to be prepared,” Thomas says with a sweeping glance that includes Logan. “But you especially, Tavia. Remember that in all this,
you
have the upper hand. Don’t let him forget that. And for all our sakes, do
not
let him convince you otherwise. Because I have no doubt he’ll try. Subtly.”

“Like a snake,” I whisper.

“Tavia, despite his talk, make no mistake, there’s nothing more important to Daniel than
Daniel
. That, above anything else, is what our research into him has uncovered. This morning he risked throwing you to the wolves to re-win the loyalty of his people in case things don’t work out. Make certain he remembers how much he needs you, how he needs you
much
more than you need him. That alone may end up being your ticket to staying alive.”

I nod, accepting these vile things about Daniel as truth now. I don’t try to justify or romanticize. There’s no time for that anymore. Today is the day for facing cold, hard facts, and I brace myself to do just that. Thomas seems to be through talking, but I haven’t shown them my discovery yet.

“There’s more.” My voice is choked, but I make myself speak. “It’s worse than you could possibly imagine.”

Thomas stares at me, but there’s a trust there. He believes it
can
be so bad. Logan doesn’t look as convinced.

I walk to the back of my small room—to the plain wall that was going to be the back of my kitchenette—and press my ear to it, just in case someone has decided to go in there since this morning.

Then I make a hole.

I turn to beckon the two to follow me, but Thomas’s face is chalky white and he’s staring, not at the hole but at me.

“How did you do that?”

I didn’t think. I’ve never told him. Or Alanna. Haven’t told anyone except Daniel and Logan. And technically, Daniel told
us
.

“You’re a Creator,” Thomas says warily. “I’ve seen you work.”

“I’m both,” I say, figuring that’s the easiest explanation. “That’s why Daniel needs me.”

Thomas shakes his head. “He’ll
never
let you go. Daniel will never,
never
let something so valuable slip through his fingers.”

“I know.” But a part of me cheers that Thomas believed me with almost no explanation whatsoever.

Thomas’s hand is shaking as he lays it on my shoulder. “When everything breaks loose, I’ll get you out. I swear. I will
not
leave something so valuable with him.”

“Especially not after you see this.” My voice sounds hollow, dull. Like I’ve reached a level where I can’t actually get any lower.

We duck through, and I watch Logan carefully, ready for . . . whatever he’s going to think. Do. He almost recoils when he sees our old prison, and I want to run to him and hold him, comfort him. But I can’t now. Not after kissing Benson.

After
choosing
Benson.

“I don’t understand,” Thomas says, looking around.

I turn him so he can see the huge Reduciata ankh painted on the wall. “This is where Logan, Benson, and I were held. Where were
rescued
from.”

“But . . .”

“I made the walls disappear, and we tried to escape that way,” I say, pointing. “But then when we were trapped, Curatoriates burst in and took us away. They knocked us out once we were in the helicopter.”

“But not for secrecy, like they said,” Logan fills in, his mind processing everything so quickly, “only so we wouldn’t know that all we did was go up, make a circle, and come right back down.”

“Exactly. Benson told me the Reduciates said I would have to be put through tests, and that was it.”

“Just a test,” Thomas echoes, still sounding shocked.

“Except that there were
Reduciates
involved. Benson—” I spare a glance up at Logan. I haven’t told him yet. That I want to be with Benson. I can’t. Not now. It would be too much for him. “Benson was here too. In that cell.” I point. “And other Reduciates I recognized from Portsmouth.” I look at Thomas and wait until he meets my eyes. “We simply have to come to terms with the fact that on some level, the Reduciata and the Curatoria are working
together
.”