Lost Energy (27 page)

"I'm impressed, Lena. I see a
new life becomes you." Pit folded his hands in front of him.

My face heated, but his compliment
gave my beat-up ego a boost. I kept focus on the map. "Yeah, well, almost
getting killed a couple times makes you quick on your feet."

Winston jumped in. "My group'll
scout this area." He pointed to the main village. "Wilma can check
out the woods."

Knowing I'd be with Wilma, I didn't
like that idea much. "No. We'll check that one out. You take Grace and
Zander. We'll take Avery."

Winston shook his head. "You
take Grace and check out the woods. The villages are crawling with Exemplians
killing off the population."

I closed my eyes to keep from
rolling them and clenched my fists to prevent punching him in the face. No way
would I waste time arguing. "Each group needs an active Guide if one of
us…" Didn't need to finish that thought. "I'm going to check out the village
site. Period." I opened my eyes and pegged him with a look I'd practiced
after getting it from Wilma for years. "There isn't gonna be any debate."

He opened his mouth, but Wilma
interjected, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're taking the
village." Her promise drifted in my head:
I'll find out, one way or
another…

Farren slung an arm across my
shoulders, thankfully no longer fangirling around Winston. "I'm going with
her." He nodded to Soccer Mom and Accountant. "Take a few of them to
help protect Zander and the old lady."

Oren perked up, irritation
tightening his face. "Watch it."

I held up a hand, so not wanting to
deal with testosterone. "Enough. Farren, ease up. And, Oren? Stop making
that face. Anyone ever tell you it might freeze like that?" I turned to
Pit, who though calm, had tension narrowing his eyes. "Sorry, continue."

"Right." He cleared his
throat, focusing on the screen. "As soon as the fires are blazing, I will
need to be informed." He touched his temple. "We will then stage an
attack. However," he glanced at Winston, "you must inform Arcus's
Warden when the enemy screams render the air. That is our surprise–that is how
we will beat them."

Winston nodded, concentrating on
the map. "We need to do anything and everything to kill as many as
possible. The more energy, the better."

Oren crowded the table, pushing a
few Empyrean soldiers out of the way. "Wait. We had a deal."

I sighed, looking at Avery, forever
hiding behind her Protector. "You come up with anything?"

She stepped forward, face ashen and
looking about ten pounds lighter than when we first met. "The only way is
for Zander and I to go into the camps in energy form, sense the reluctant
participants, and convince them to leave with us."

I palmed the table, leaning forward
to make sure she didn't miss my anger. "That's it? That's what you came up
with?" I looked at Zander, who shook his head, and pegged her again. "Your
plan will eat up precious time. Time we're not gonna have when they figure out
we're around." I stood back. "No. It's too risky."

Oren's face turned a bright shade
of red, almost purple. "So, you're willing to kill innocent people?"
He sneered, throwing a finger in my face. "You talk about change, a new
life? Different ideas? No. Death hasn't changed you."

All right, that did it. I slammed a
fist on the table, making the hologram's pixels scatter. "Every goddamned
person out there is fucking guilty!" Not even Wilma tried to calm me down.
"Have you seen what they've done to these people? Because I have. The real
innocent people are covered in bloody sheets and thrown on the street like
trash." I narrowed my eyes. "Do you know they killed Teenesee's
daughters? Do you even care?"

His face paled. "They're here under
duress. It's fight or death."

"So you want to save people
with a 'better them than me' mentality? Is that it? They've killed children,"
my voice hitched before I could swallow it, "babies."

From my peripheral, I noticed a few
Protectors shaking their heads. Soccer Mom had tears pooling in her eyes.

Oren pursed his lips–and kept on
arguing. "I'm saying we should at least try."

"Fuck that."

I nodded to Pit before heading to
the hall. Who knew if I'd find my way back up to my room, but when Wilma,
Farren, Winston, and Zander followed me I stopped worrying about it. If that
sonofabitch thought throwing the past in my face would change my mind, well, he
didn't know
me
all that well.

I yelled over my shoulder as we
rounded the corner. "Tell you what, anyone who grovels–no, begs–for mercy
might get a chance to live another life, but trust me when I say this, they won't
get to finish this one."

THE
CALM BEFORE

I
needed to puke. Seriously. I even had
to swallow the regurgitated diet of dried fruit and fish a couple times.
Talking about killing people as if I'd done it before, like it wasn't a big
deal, made me sound like I belonged in a psyche ward.

Sociopath, anyone?

They followed me to my room, none
making any moves to leave once I opened the door. I shuffled my feet, wishing
for alone time. All I wanted was to let my stomach have free reign over the
toilet in private. "So, um, I guess I'll see you all tonight?"

Winston shrugged and stuck in his
earbuds before taking off down the hall. "Sounds good. Later."

Christ, if I thought of myself as
the perfect case study for sociopathy, well, the way Winston acted he'd have
been any psyche major's wet dream.

Zander scratched his head. "Yeah,
I'm gonna go too, get some sleep." He bent to kiss my cheek, and whispered,
"See you tonight." He left, going in the opposite direction as
Winston.

Wilma steam-rolled past me and
barged in my room. "I'm staying with you." Her gravelly voice left no
room for argument.

I grinned despite everything.
Upchucking by myself would have to take a rain check. "Great. Now I have
to deal with her snoring."

Farren smiled and squeezed my
shoulder. "You okay, kid?"

"No, yeah, well–" I
swiped at my cheek. "No, I'm fine, everything's fine." I found my
feet, studying the way the leather weaved over my toes. "I've never, you
know, killed anybody."

He chuckled, lifting my chin. "No
shit? Hmm…learn something new every day"

"Not funny."

He pulled me to his chest, patting
my head as if I were a Golden Retriever. "No, it's not. But listen, you
won't have to worry about that, okay? As soon as the bad and ugly goes down, we're
going to get you out."

"So you want me to be a hound
dog, sniff out the nest, and hide while you guys put your lives at risk?"

"Yup!" Wilma's voice
reverberated off the walls, echoing down the hall.

Farren pulled away and traced my
jaw with his thumb. "Yup." His soft whisper was as convincing as Wilma's
yell.

"But I can fight. Isn't this
why you've been training me?"

"We got this now, kid. Don't
worry."

I'd let them win this battle. We'd
see what would actually go down. "Fine. Guess I'll see you tonight."

He glanced in my room with a
grimace, not leaving.

"Ah, your room's that way?"
I waved a hand down the hall.

His fingers tapped his thigh as he
looked down the hall then back into my room. "You know what? No." He
swept past me, jumping on the floating bed. "This bed's big enough for ten
people. Don't worry, I don't snore."

I laughed, shutting the door. Private
puke fest would definitely have to wait another night. "Whatever. I get
the left side."

We settled in, Wilma taking the
middle and Farren on the right, not keeping his non-snoring promise. I grabbed
her hand, holding it to my chest, needing her close. As my eyes drooped, I squeezed
her fingers. "Wilma? Could you tell Tarek to…?"

She closed her eyes. "It's
already done. Relax, he'll be along soon." In minutes, she snored along
with Farren.

And I waited.

He didn't make me wait long.
Hey,
you.

Silent tears tracked my cheeks,
soaking the pillow. "Hey."

∞
∞ ∞

None of us spoke much. There wasn't
a lot to say. Farren grunted something about getting his suit and left before I
climbed off the bed. Wilma was already up, not even acknowledging him when he
left as she washed her face with the basin of water on the dresser.

After all the time spent preparing
for what so many others failed to do in the past, it finally hit home. Exemplar
had proven it could annihilate worlds, Arcus being the poster child. In
essence, our little rebellion was like an annoying ant problem. They'd spend
the time exterminating us and go on about their business.

Damn, not a good mindset to have. But
that thought was all that rushed through my mind as I crawled from the bed to
put on my contego suit. The calm Tarek gave me today, singing a lullaby in the
most off-key voice possible until I fell asleep, flaked away. Tension squeezed
my heart, causing my lungs to work overtime. My lips grew numb, and if I
thought lacing the pants was tough, trying to lace up that goddamned suit with
fingers that shook like Jell-O was near impossible.

I tried to ask Wilma for help while
she stuffed herself in her own suit, but words couldn't make it past my tight
airway. Instead, I crumbled on the nearest cushioned chair and used my eyes to
plead with her.

When Wilma finished with her suit,
she finally glanced in my direction. Her eyes widened before she closed them,
along with her open mouth, and motioned for me to stand.

If only it were that easy.

I groped for the couch's arm and
pushed up on unsteady legs. "I don't think I can do this."

Her fingers were rough as they
laced me up. "Well, you're gonna do it whether you think you can or not."
The color drained from her face, making her gruff words less Wilma-like.

"What if they feel us coming?"

"These suits are Empyrean,
better than what they have when turned on. Keep your suit turned on! They help
deflect attention, like a static camouflage, plus those damn bullets can't
penetrate them."

"What if they know our plan
already?" Sweat poured from my skin, making the suit sticky and
uncomfortable. "What if they send the authority to Arcus?"

She tightened the laces until the
fabric pinched my sides. "They don't know."

"But what if they do?"

"They. Don't."

"Yeah, but how do you know?"

She rolled her eyes, the laces
getting tighter. "I just do."

"But–"

"Stop. Please."

I grabbed her hands. "So many
people are gonna die tonight, Wilma."

She bowed her head, clutching my
hands. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. No "shut-up"
or "quit asking questions" left her lips. Only a little sob, which
she swallowed as soon as it escaped.

For some reason, as soon as her
desperation reached through to my own panic, all my nerves calmed. Acid roiling
in my gut settled, and the need to puke dissolved like a cloud after a storm. I
slipped my hands from hers to pull her close. Sometimes I forgot she was human,
too. I'd always considered her Superman's tougher big sister.

When a few minutes past, she leaned
back, a rare sad smile on her face. "I wish I could tell you everything
will be fine, that this will be easy, like I used to when you were a little
girl. But this–I can't tell you that now."

She had always wiped my tears, told
me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and made me a peanut butter fluff–and held
me until I fell asleep. Somehow, I had awakened in my own bed and never
realized how. The last year explained that well enough. But she did, you know,
make everything okay. Though at that moment, she seemed helpless, and I couldn't
let her feel that way, even with fear dancing on my spine.

"You don't have to say it,
Wilma. I'm not a little girl anymore." I brushed a stray tear from her
cheek, causing more to flow from her blue eyes.

"Yes, you are. You're
my
little girl, always have been."

That almost had me blubbering on
the floor.

She was right.

Clearing my throat, I moved to look
in the tall mirror, watching her through it. "So, how do I look? Like an
ass-kicker, right? I could totally kick some ass."

She scrubbed her cheeks, the smile
returning. The quick subject change didn't bother her in the slightest. I could
be strong for her. Hell, at that instant I could be strong for myself.

Shaking her head, Wilma stomped
over, elbowing me out of the way. She situated her suit over her ample chest,
pushing up her girls. "Now,
this
is an ass-kicker image. You look
like a twelve-year-old boy."

I laughed. No way could my ladies
compete with hers. "All right, you win."

"Damn right, I do."

A sharp knock echoed, and Winston
barged in looking lethal in his glowing green suit with all his muscles
straining against the fabric. The only skin showing, his neck and hands, showed
off those awesome tattoos. Man, if I were the enemy, I wouldn't want to fuck
with him. Who knew he had all that going on under those baggy clothes?

He shot me a bored glower and
raised a brow as Wilma still fussed with her chest. "Don't know if y'all
got the memo, but we're going to be fighting, not clubbing."

Wilma rolled her eyes, giving
herself a final adjustment before waving me to the door. "You try stuffing
curves in tight fabric. Definitely didn't miss these damn suits. They don't let
me breathe." She snuck past him like a ninja and barged down the hall,
expecting us to follow.

Of course, we followed.

As we trudged to the basement room,
I caught Winston sneaking glances in my direction. After about the sixth time,
his little covert peep show grated my nerves. "What, damn it?"

He chuckled and nodded his head as
though earbuds were permanently attached to his ears. "You ready for this,
Tainted?"

No. "Of course." I moved
a couple paces ahead as we rounded the never-ending hallway. "I've been in
plenty of wars."

He laughed, coming up to my side. "It'll
all be over before you know it, especially with your man opening up what most
of them assholes consider Hell. Chances are they'll be on the first portal back
to Exemplar before shit gets real serious."

I worried my lip. Sounded good,
but… "With everything they've taken from here, Exemplians will be next to
invincible." Shit. Just…shit. "They're gonna keep on coming after
this."

He shrugged. "Guess we'll
worry about that later."

So not what I wanted to hear.

We headed into the room, everyone
wearing glowing suits except Wilma and me. Until Winston touched a spot under my
right arm. The slick black fabric came to life, buzzing on my body with
electricity that hummed through my skin. Felt nice, actually, like a force
field or something.

"You turn this off, the
bullets can come knocking on your skin, you heard?"

The second person to warn me
tonight.

"Yeah, got it."

Wilma turned her suit on, too, as
she went to meet Pit at the map table, holograms blazing.

Our Protectors and a few Empyrean
soldiers crowded the table talking strategy while some men were busy collecting
the orbs from the cage. They molded them until the snow-globe-sized spheres
were as small as pebbles and stuffed them into rows of satchels. Some were
loaded into clips and locked into what looked like pistols you'd find on
Star
Trek
or the SyFy channel.

After a quick look at Winston, who
nodded toward the gun table with a half-grin, I went to pick one up. The
smooth, warm metal fit perfectly in my hands. I'd never shot a gun before, and
the thought of shooting one now wasn't exactly pleasant. I went to put it down,
but one of the men shook his head saying something in Empyrean.

"I-I don't know… Do you speak
Desis?" I really had to brush up on foreign languages. I didn't have a
nifty chip in my brain to translate like all the Exemplians in the room–another
tidbit of information Tarek shared during our nightly one-sided talks.

Farren came into the room when the
man said it a second time after I tried putting the gun back. "He said to
keep it and take a satchel of ammo, too." Farren listened again as the man
spoke. "He also said to be careful with what you have. It's all the power
Empyrean has left."