Havoc (19 page)

Vesper 1(B) and Vesper 2.1(A), having manually unlocked the access doors to the lower level of Sector D (perhaps better password protocol is necessary?),
Agreed. Bring it up next meeting.—MH
have made their way to the detention block. Previously, Vesper 1(B) was held here, along with the other captured Deviants. All but Branch B's Vesper 4 had been moved by this time stamp.

Vesper 2.1(A) stands in front of the door to Detention Cell 7 and raises a single hand, and the door buckles inward and opens.

21:11:24 PST—Detention Cell 7

One subject is in the room, identified as:

—Tracie Townsend, Branch B's Vesper 4 (designated “Deviant”)

Black female, 16 years old

Vesper 4(B) wears a gray jumpsuit and sits at a table in the center of the room. Printer paper is stacked neatly and straight next to her, and she is drawing on one sheet with a crayon. She does not seem to realize that the door has opened and that she has visitors.

VESPER 1(B): Tracie! We're here to rescue you.

Vesper 4(B) sets down the crayon and, blinking, looks up at the two other girls.

VESPER 4(B): Oh. It's you.

Vesper 1(B) goes to Vesper 4(B)'s side, crouches beside her chair, and places a hand on the girl's arm. Unlike Vesper 1(B), Vesper 4(B) has not been chained to her table.

VESPER 1(B): We're breaking out of here, Tracie. All of us. We found you, but we also need to find—

VESPER 4(B): Evan?

VESPER 2.1(A): We know where Evan is. And there's no way we're going there, at least not tonight.

VESPER 4(B): Ah. Then I do know where we need to go.

Vesper 4(B) stands up and straightens her already straightened stack of papers, then places the crayon she was using back in its plastic tub. That done, she and the other two Deviants exit Detention Cell 7.

Part 4 of Relevant Video Footage Concluded

16

JUST A SLIGHT DISAGREEMENT BETWEEN GIRLS

I oversaw Dalton and Spencer as they made sure everything was back in place. Dalton was the same as he'd been both nights out: jittery and constantly bobbing as though moving to a beat only he could hear. Spencer's change, however, was brand-new to me. He darted about quickly, like a lizard, efficiently closing the port panel, logging out of the screen computer with a fly of his fingers, and then putting the painting back in place with another mechanical hiss. And then he was sitting up perfectly straight at the desk, clicking nonstop, making sure not a single thing was out of place on the computer's desktop. His eyes flicked back and forth, laser focused.

“You got everything, Dalton?” I asked. “We need to move. I'm tired of this place.”

He was busy staring at a picture on one of the shelves, his hand against his thigh, constantly slapping out a rhythm. “Yeah, I'm good. I'm ready.”

Spencer's hand flew up in the air even as the other continued to dart the mouse around, still clicking. Between his fingers was the keycard. Not looking up, he said, “Not done yet, man. Take this.”

Dalton snatched the keycard from Spencer's fingers, then came to my side. With a few more clicks, Spencer jumped to his feet and put the desk chair back in the exact position we'd found it.

“You cover all our tracks, Tom Cruise?” I asked him.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. Here.” He came forward and strung the thumb drive with the lanyard around my neck. “You keep this one. I'll keep the other. My program automatically logs all system checks and passwords when it runs, so if something happens to one of us, we either have a way to get at the information again or you'll already have it all.”

“Smart guy,” I said, shoving the drive down the front of my shirt. “But nothing is going to happen to us.”

“Hell no, of course nothing will,” Dalton said. He put his arms over my shoulders and leaned on me, grinning down at Spencer. “She took some guy out in a chokehold last night. It was badass, man.”

Spencer sighed. “I know what she can do, Dalton, I was there when we took down Dr. Elliott.” To me, he said, “We should leave now. The wolf change generally happens two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds after the initial phase.”

“Well, that's specific,” I said, pulling myself out from underneath Dalton.

Spencer shrugged. “I calculated the averages based on the nights I fully changed.”

“That's good to know. Follow me.”

We exited the office and let the door close with another thunk of its lock behind us. I led the way, head high, shoulders back, down the hallway, with my two soldiers behind me. Soldiers! Ha. I felt like the leader of some sort of hyper-trained SWAT team.

The nearer we came to the end of the hallway, the louder the partyers became. I could still hear the Bubonic Teutonics playing their generic alt-rock music in the den, punctuated by the occasional excited bark from Max and a cheer from the adoring crowd. Much closer were the video gamers, shouting about kill shots.

Just before we could turn the corner and make our way to the front door, four girls appeared, silhouetted by the lights behind them. It took me a moment, but then I realized it was Nikki Tate in the lead with the Delgado triplets backing her up as usual. Nikki and Amy both had their arms crossed. Brittany, the sister with the most makeup on and the hoochiest outfit, examined her nails. Beside her, Casey Delgado held her arms behind her back, her face unreadable.

Oh, but Nikki's and Amy's feelings were written on every pore. I was officially getting tired of these girls showing up to scowl at me all the time. I mean, seriously.

“Dalton,” Nikki said coolly. “I have been looking for you all night. This is supposed to be
your
party and we had
your
cake delivered and we've been waiting for
you
to show up to serve it and actually appreciate all these people who came out to celebrate with you.”

Dalton grunted behind me.

I stepped forward, crossing my arms to match Nikki's stance. “Hi, Nik.” She was looking past me at Dalton, clearly pissed. I snapped my fingers, and, taken aback, she finally looked at me. “Yeah, hi. Dalton, Spencer, and I are busy. With … projects. And it sounds like everyone here is having a grand old time without their guest of honor. So if you'll just let us through.”

I made to pass Nikki, but Amy stepped up next to her, blocking my way. “What is with your attitude, skank?” she spat at me.

“Seriously,” Brittany muttered, now checking out the nails on her other hand.

Nikki's face had gone red at this point. She dropped her hands to her side, balling them into fists. Her lower lip trembled. I'd never seen her so mad.

“I do not get you, Emily Webb,” she said. “You don't talk to anyone for years, and then you decide you suddenly want to start talking to boys, and for some reason you just have to start with my boyfriend? Why are you always around sneaking off with
my boyfriend
?”

So the girl was upset.
Uh, understandably
, Daytime said in the back of my head. But really, if anything it was Dalton who had been all over
me
the past few days. And I was so damn tired of this basic high school drama.

So I leaned forward and said, “Maybe if you were a better girlfriend, he wouldn't have to escape from you with me, now would he?”

Nikki gasped. And in a flash, her hand shot through the air, palm aimed to slap me on the cheek.

My own hand darted up, instinctively catching her by the wrist, just before she made contact. She tried to yank her hand back, but I held on tight, glaring into her eyes, demanding her with a look to just
back off
.

“You did not!” Amy shouted. She made to lunge at me.

And then somewhere in the house, a girl began to scream and voices rose. Amy stopped moving, and she and her sisters turned toward the sound of the commotion.

Spencer grabbed my sleeve. “It's Tracie,” he said.

I let go of Nikki's hand and gestured for Dalton and Spencer. They dutifully followed as I moved past a stunned Nikki on her left. Casey stepped aside casually, letting us pass.

We forced our way through the crowd in the living room, most of its inhabitants not paying attention to the sounds of a girl clearly in distress. Great guys. But I could hear Tracie clearly, shouting demands and screaming, sounding on the verge of tears.

Behind me, I heard one of the triplets shout, “You are not getting away that easy!”

I ignored her.

We shoved our way through the kitchen and dining room and finally back into the den. The Bubonic Teutonics had stopped playing, and Jared was now near the front door, trying to grab onto the flailing girl that was Tracie Townsend. She backed away from him, her eyes wide and frightened. She heaved gasping, sobbing breaths and clawed at her hair. Her headband was all askew.

“Hey, what is it?” Jared was asking her. “It's all right, it's all right. Did you take something? I'm a police officer.”

“No,” Tracie sobbed. “No! Leave me alone! I have to get out. I have to get out!” She shoved Jared in the chest, and he careened backward, barely maintaining his balance.

I leaped forward and grabbed Jared by the delightfully large bicep. “I've got this,” I said. “She's a friend. She's … claustrophobic. We just need to get her outside.”

Without my having to say anything, Dalton and Spencer went to either side of Tracie and grabbed her by the arms. Spencer was whispering something in soft, lulling tones, and Tracie seemed to stop freaking out as much. She gulped, and tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she was no longer thrashing.

Everyone in the living room was staring at the girl as Dalton and Spencer began to guide her outside. Behind me, I heard a few girls gossiping and giggling.

“Oh my God, do you think she's on meth or something? Like that's how she gets all As?”

“Oh, totally. ‘I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I'm so …
scared!
'”

“I don't get it.”

“Ohmigod, I am so showing you that on YouTube later.” I rolled my eyes.

Jared tried to rush past me to follow the guys leading Tracie out, but I placed a hand on his chest. “I've got it, really,” I said. “We're going to take her home.”

“You sure?” he asked me.

I stepped back and crossed my chest. “Hope to die. Well, not literally. You've got your groupies waiting.”

He nodded at me. “Call me if you need help.”

Jared Miller. What a Boy Scout.

I left the giggling crowd behind and went through the front door. There wasn't anyone out here now; all the kids were somewhere inside. The lawn was dark, barely lit up by the lights from inside and the few streetlamps. I saw Spencer and Dalton walking Tracie toward Spencer's minivan.

Pumping my arms, I jogged across the yard and came to stand in front of Tracie. She was no longer crying, but I could still make out the shiny tracks down her cheeks. She was breathing steadily, but her limbs were trembling. Spencer still whispered in her ear.

She was so upset, Tracie Townsend. I felt the other sides of me both rise up then—Daytime and werewolf. Both hurt for her. I couldn't stop from feeling it.

“Hey,” I said, coming in close. “Tracie, it's all right. I told you this morning, we're like you. We know what you're going through. You're safe.”

Swallowing, she looked up at me. “No,” she whispered. “I'm sick. I'm very sick. For the past week and half, night comes and my brain breaks. Everything around me goes out of order, and nothing makes sense.”

“But you're not sick,” Dalton said.

She ignored him. “Everything I look at is
wrong
. I don't understand what's happening to me. I think I'm schizophrenic. I think I'm imagining all of this.”

I thought about our changes. About what they unlocked. For me, all the wild inhibitions I kept hidden deep down. For Dalton, his anger. For Spencer, the laser focus he couldn't harness during the day.

And Tracie, who was Spencer's opposite in that way. Who by day had every aspect of her life completely under control. I couldn't imagine what the shift did to her. Couldn't imagine what it felt like to lose all sense of order.

“I am very sick,” Tracie said again, looking at the ground now. “No one can know. No one.”

“But you're not sick!” Dalton said, letting her arm drop and stepping back. His brow tightened. “We're superheroes now, Tracie. We can do anything. I don't know how you can't understand that!”

“There are no superheroes,” she said. “Or maybe there are here. I don't know!” She looked between me and Spencer, tears forming once again.

“Shh, it's all right,” Spencer said to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and for a moment I felt a twinge of jealousy. Stupid. He was just helping one of my pack. As he should.

“Hey!”

The shout echoed across the yard and into the street. I stepped past Tracie, leaving her with Spencer to continue whispering whatever it was he was whispering to her. Shadowed on the front porch were Amy with Nikki and Brittany behind her. Casey was nowhere to be seen.

Amy stomped toward me, arms swinging at her side. “I told you we weren't finished,” she said. As she grew near, she aimed her hand at my chest like she was about to push me.

I marched toward her, smirking. “Well, too bad, because I'm finished with—”

But instead of hitting me, Amy raised her arm. And I rose with it. I gasped, shocked as the ground disappeared and nothing was beneath my feet but chill night air. Everyone below—Dalton, Tracie, Spencer, Nikki, Brittany—stared at me hovering fifteen feet in the air.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dalton asked. “You can fly?”

“I'm not doing this!” I shouted, my voice shrill.

It was Amy's turn to smirk up at me. She flicked her hand, and I dropped. The ground hurtled toward me, but I landed easily in a crouch and then was back on my feet.