The Pretender (The Soren Chase Series Book 2) (35 page)

“You can’t kill me!” Rakev screamed. “I’m a god here! I’m invincible.”

Falk sneered at him, giving a sharp bark of a laugh. He reached down and put his hands on Rakev’s face.

“Oh buddy,” Falk said, imitating how Rakev had addressed Soren. “You don’t get it. I’ve killed gods before.”

Falk crushed Rakev’s head in his hands. The remaining part of his body jerked, and then faded to black smoke. Falk reached into the smoke, using the aether to overtake and destroy what was left of Rakev. He didn’t stop until the last remaining molecule of Rakev was obliterated.

Falk stood up and looked calmly across the room. The dagger lay on the floor, its blue light so intense no human could have looked directly into it. Falk stared straight at it. The glowing circle next to it had grown marginally larger and was now the size of a soccer ball, a hole between the worlds.

He walked forward and stood before the dagger, considering. He could wait for the tear in the universe to completely open, and walk through it himself. The Council might be expecting Rakev—Falk knew them far too well to believe them unprepared for his assault—but the appearance of Falk would be a surprise. He could grab Rakev’s gun and destroy his enemy in one fell swoop.

Everyone in the theater and nearby would die, but Falk cared little about them. The only two people he was concerned about were already gone. Sara lie broken nearby and her son was a vegetable, all because Falk hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t embraced what he’d figured out so long ago: negative emotions were more powerful. It had taken Sara’s death, and the resulting surge of rage and hate it unleashed, to beat Rakev.

The tear opened wider. This wasn’t his original plan, but improvisation was his specialty.

Yet the thought of Alex lying in the hospital stilled him. He thought of what the leprechaun had said. If he released the dagger’s energy back into the world, there was a chance it could save the boy. He looked longingly at the hole forming next to the knife. The Council would have to wait.

“Another time,” he said.

Falk picked up the dagger. It was so hot, the handle seared into his flesh, but Falk ignored the pain. He grasped both ends of the blade, the sharp dagger slicing into his hands, and snapped the blade away from the handle. It unleashed a torrent of blue energy that struck Falk in the chest, knocking him backward, his mind slipping into oblivion.

*****

The first thing that Soren heard was screaming. He woke up to find himself lying at the front of the stage. He’d apparently been blown through the curtain.

Around him, people were getting to their feet, shouting and crying. The mist that had blanketed the area was gone. He stood up to see the crowd fleeing out the exits. Apparently, Rakev’s warnings that they might get blown up were no longer sufficient to hold them in place. They were stampeding out the doors now.

Soren’s head hurt. He remembered what had happened, but it was fuzzy. He’d defeated Rakev using his ability to control the aether, shape it into mist, and then destroy him from within. He looked down at his hand, which was solid. He didn’t think he could repeat the trick now if asked to do so. He had only been able to do it because of—

As the memory of Sara dying hit him, he ran backstage, several musicians running right past him. He found Sara’s body on the floor and ran to it. He felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t one. Just angry bruises all around her neck.

He put his hand to her cheek, which was still warm. Soren rested his head on hers and began to cry. He’d lost her. All he wanted was to keep her and Alex safe and he’d failed. He’d failed them all.

Soren suddenly felt Sara’s body jerk beneath him as if jolted with electricity. He pulled back, unsure if he’d imagined it. But as he watched, Sara’s fingers spasmed. Impossibly, he saw her move her head, and heard a small moan coming from her lips. Soren stared in shock as her eyes fluttered open. She looked up in confusion.

“Soren? Is that you?” she asked.

Soren hugged her, careful not to squeeze her too hard in case he hurt her. It was a miracle. Soren had seen Rakev break her neck. There was no way this could be happening. Not unless—

Soren jerked back and looked at her.

“Friday?” he asked.

“Huh?” Sara responded.

That wasn’t possible. Friday was dead. Rakev said so himself. But that wasn’t exactly what he’d said. He told Soren he’d found one of his men attacking the others and assumed it was a pretender. He’d also said the man hadn’t put up much of a fight. That didn’t sound like Friday. And she loved deception.

Rakev had killed the wrong guy.

But if Friday had taken the form of Sara—

Soren saw somebody enter his field of vision, and he looked up to find two people staring down at him. One was Ken Sharpe and the other was the real Sara Ignatius, her left hand rubbing the back of her neck.

In her right hand was Rakev’s silver gun—and she was pointing it directly at Soren’s head.

Sara noticed her arm was shaking, and put both hands on the gun to steady herself. All she had to do was fire the gun, and this nightmare would be over.

Soren looked from Sara to the pretender on the ground and then back again. The look he gave her was impossible to mistake—relief.

“You’re alive,” he said. “Rakev snapped Friday’s neck, not yours.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, and she didn’t care. He wasn’t Soren Chase. He was the creature that killed him. She should pull the trigger and be done with it.

She’d fantasized about this moment for two months, dreaming of destroying this monster that had destroyed her life. And yet now she found herself strangely reluctant to do it. He looked so much like Soren, acted like him. It was one thing to imagine this moment and another thing to do it.

Soren slowly raised his hands above his head. He seemed to see how tense she was. She feared he would lash out and take the gun from her, steal it away at her moment of victory. Instead, he said the last thing she expected.

“It’s okay, Sara,” Soren said. “You can pull the trigger.”

“No,” the pretender wearing her face said, rousing herself to a sitting position. “No, please. Don’t take him from me, too.”

Sara looked from Soren to the fake Sara, who appeared panicked.

“Ken, don’t let her do this,” the fake Sara said.

Soren looked apologetic. “Well, this is awkward,” he said. “Don’t mind her. She thinks she’s you. It’ll wear off in a moment, but it’s a little confusing at first.”

The fake Sara had tears in her eyes. It was like looking in a ghastly mirror. Sara’s own vision blurred as she realized she was crying, too.

“You need to kill me quick, Sara,” Soren said. “The police will be here soon and they won’t understand.”

People were still running out of the concert hall, desperate to get away. Only a few looked in their direction, but nobody stopped to interfere.

“You want me to kill you?” she asked. She didn’t understand what mind game he was playing. Was this some weird reverse psychology?

“Not particularly,” Soren said. “Until very recently, I would have welcomed it. I actually tried to kill myself once I realized the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I didn’t know what I was, Sara,” he said. “Just like Friday doesn’t know now. She thinks she’s the real Sara Ignatius. The only difference is that her mind will clear up in a minute or two, and for me, it took years. I didn’t know I wasn’t Soren until those last moments in Reapoke Forest. I’ve been trying to find a way to destroy myself ever since.”

Sara wasn’t sure she believed what he was saying. And yet she had been able to read Soren better than anyone in the world. He didn’t seem like he was lying. But would she know anymore?

She kept waiting for a sign of what to do. This was her chance to end it, but she didn’t know whether she should take it.

“You weren’t trying to save Alex,” Sara said. “You were just trying to get this gun.”

Soren shook his head.

“No, Sara,” he said. “This was always about Alex. I’ve been training with Friday, the pretender you saw at Audrey Yong’s house. I’ve been trying to relearn how to be a doppelgänger.”

“You didn’t know?”

“No, but I’ve learned a lot since then.”

“You killed Rakev’s man just when we were going to learn where Alex was,” Sara said.

“No, Rakev sent a gaunt to kill Ivanovich,” Soren said. “I took his identity so I could learn where Alex was being held. I never stopped working to get Alex back, Sara. Shoot me if you want, but please know that. I’m not playing some elaborate game with you. Alex may even be okay now.”

“What?”

“I broke the dagger,” Soren replied. “I was told that might restore his mind if I did that. I can’t guarantee it worked but—”

Sara’s head whipped around to Ken. “Call the hospital,” she said.

Ken took out his phone and started dialing.

“You should have told me what you were,” Sara said, turning back to Soren. “If what you’re saying is true, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” Soren said, a look of pain on his face. “I didn’t know how to admit to you what I’d done.”

“Why?” Sara asked. “That’s all I want to know now. Why did you kill Soren and John?”

Soren shook his head again.

“I wish I could tell you,” he said. “I used to think it was random, that Falk—that’s my real name—just came across them. I don’t believe that anymore. A few minutes ago, when I attacked Rakev, I think I remembered. But all that’s fuzzy now. I still don’t know why.”

Sara wanted to crawl into a corner and weep. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She’d been almost pleased when she thought Soren was working against them. It made it all so easy. The idea that the fake Soren had been trying to help her just made things messy. Yet there was some plausibility to what he’d said. The knife Rakev had held lie broken in half on the floor. Most of the people in the theater had been saved. Soren had done that.

But did it matter? Even if he had been helping her, even if he couldn’t remember why he’d killed Soren and John, was that important? He’d admitted to the crime. Wasn’t that enough?

“You should kill him,” the pretender said. “Shoot him now before it’s too late.”

Sara glanced over at her. Her face was filled with fury now. Instead of looking at Soren like she loved him, her expression was twisted with hate.

“He killed John and Soren,” Friday said. “He needs to pay.”

“Wow, you changed sides quickly,” Soren said. “That’s two votes in favor of my death. Ken, you want to weigh in here?”

Sara didn’t dare look at Ken, but kept her eyes focused on Soren. Ken didn’t answer. He was talking on the phone with someone in a low voice.

Sara looked at Soren.

“What is it with the two of you and wanting me to kill you?” Sara asked.

Soren gave a slight shrug.

“Sometimes memory hits you in stages,” he said. “I think the stronger the personality, the more time it takes for a pretender to remember who they really are. Apparently, she just remembered who I was. She’ll probably figure out who she is soon.”

“Shoot him!” the pretender shouted. “Do it now! The police are coming.”

“Unfortunately, she’s right,” Soren said. “You don’t have a lot of time left. And I doubt you’ll see that gun again once the police get it. It’s now or never, Sara.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t,” she said. “You admit what you’ve done. Why shouldn’t I kill you?”

Soren fixed her with a stare, and her heart ached. He looked at her with so much love, exactly how he used to stare at her so long ago.

“For the past two months, I’ve been out at sea. I didn’t know where to turn. I didn’t even know how to act anymore, how to react. I felt like,” Soren paused and smiled sardonically, “like a pretender. I was walking around in Soren’s skin but uncertain who I really was. But over the past few days, I’ve found my lighthouse. I’ve found my way.”

“If you tell me it’s me, I really will shoot you right here,” Sara said.

Soren cocked his head and gave her another smile, this one with more humor in it.

“No, it was Soren himself,” he said. “He did the impossible, Sara. When a pretender takes an identity, they take it only for a short time. Falk has taken the form of hundreds, maybe thousands, of victims. None have managed to do what Soren accomplished. In the end, his feelings for you, for John, were strong enough to survive even death. He remade me in his image, not just physically, but emotionally, too.

“Pretenders aren’t supposed to be able to become an identity twice. And yet despite taking a few different identities during the past few days, I’ve snapped back to Soren every time. That shouldn’t happen, but Soren is who I am now. Friday told me that identity is a lie, that all we are is a collection of memories, emotions, and impulses that shift like grains of sand. But I know now that’s not true. I may not be the real Soren Chase, but I’m his legacy. You want a reason not to kill me? Because if you do, you’ll be killing all that’s left of him.”

Ken cleared his throat.

“Sara?” he said.

She chanced a look in his direction, and saw tears running down his face. For a second, she feared the worst—her son was dead.

“He’s awake,” Ken said. “Alex is awake. He’s asking for you.”

Something inside of Sara broke. She lowered the gun and sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. The creature that wore Soren’s face approached her cautiously and she didn’t move to stop him, even when he drew her in for a hug. Instead, she embraced him back, crying in relief. Alex was awake.

The moment was disrupted by a scream from the pretender, who came rushing at them both.

“How can you let him live?” she shouted as she collided with them.

There was a short scuffle on the ground. Sara wasn’t sure what happened but the pretender came out of the melee holding Rakev’s gun. She held it pointed at Soren just as an army of police officers in SWAT gear stormed in.

The pretender—Friday—took one look at the police and started running, sprinting toward the front of the stage. The police fired, and Sara was sure a few shots connected, but she kept running past the curtain and out of Sara’s vision.