Deviants (13 page)

And that’s far from the only problem. Besides the fact that I let myself feel such an inappropriate emotion, what happened to my plan to be stealthy? Rushing forward like a little kid won’t keep me hidden, won’t help me learn what’s going on. I know better than that, and letting a murderer see me certainly won’t keep me alive.

My heart thumps in my chest, but neither of them heard
my near outburst, so I creep forward more slowly until I’m about ten feet away. Keeping to the darkness, I listen.

“She’s mostly scared,” Burn says. “And angry.”

“Dangerous?” My father asks and I want to yell out that I am, but I don’t.

“Nah,” he says. “Not really. She’s got great control.”

My father nods. “Good. She’s a smart girl. I hoped she’d find a way to deal with it once she understood what was happening.” He lifts his hand to scratch his head. “I should have been around to help her, though.” His voice is deeper than I remember, more filled with gravel, and if I hadn’t recognized the way he drums his fingers on his knee, I’m not sure I’d know him. Now that my eyes are adjusting, his face is different, as if his skin is thicker and darker, like he’s covered in tanned leather.

“We’ve kept an eye out since you were exed,” Burn says. “I’ve been assigned to her for the past year.”

“I know. Thank you.”

He’s had people spying on me for
three years
?

“She must hate me.”

No kidding
.

Burn shifts against the wall. “Drake’s excited to see you.”

“I can’t wait to hold him in my arms.”

Enough
. No way am I letting this man get another crack at killing my brother.

Even if that’s not his plan, he doesn’t deserve Drake’s unconditional adoration. And this casual chat between Burn and my father is more than I can stand.

I stride forward, pushing out of the shadows, too angry
to care about hiding, too angry to think. “Did I hear you thank Burn for stalking me?” I shout at my father. “How long have you had me under surveillance? And why? So you could come back and finish off the members of your family you missed the first time?” If he thinks he can hurt me or Drake…“I’ve got powers now, ways to protect myself. So does Drake.” Pressure builds in my ears as blood rushes through my ears.

My father pushes off the side of the tunnel and turns to stand in front of me, his posture awkward and stiff, every muscle taut. He’s several feet away, and with the light from the torch shining down, all I can see is his shape—slight compared to Burn, yet bulkier than I remember. His hand stretches toward me then drops to his side. “Hello, Glory.”

“That’s all you have to say?” I form tight fists. If I could find his eyes in this light I’d finish him off right now, but they’ve turned one of their torches in my direction, blinding me, so I stare where I assume my dad’s eyes must be.

I’ll show him just how dangerous I am.

Not hearing screams of agony, I shield my eyes and step forward to improve my aim.

The beam of light from the torch drops, then changes shape on the floor of the tunnel as Burn steps toward me. “I’ll get the kid.”

“Leave him alone.” I grab Burn’s arm as he passes.

He leans in and growls, “I’m not going to hurt him.”

In spite of his menacing tone, I believe him. At least I’d rather have Drake with Burn than my father. I snap my attention back to the real danger.

Burn’s menacing presence in my life these past few days—like standing under a massive weight held by a thread—seems suddenly comforting. I don’t want him to leave me alone with my father, and I take a step back toward Burn and Drake.

My father must sense my fear, or maybe he’s the one who’s afraid, because he remains still, letting me increase the distance between us. His torch shoots light across the tunnel in front of him, and the fingers of his other hand splay. He’s tense, too. Either that or he’s getting ready to strangle me with those long fingers—or break my back, like Drake’s. I don’t even know the nature of my father’s Deviance.

If he’s just going to stand there, not saying anything, threatening me with his size and silence, then I can do the same. If he thinks I’m going to forgive him, even talk to him, he’s got another think coming.

He reaches toward me and I stumble back a few steps.

“Glory.”

“Don’t touch me.”

His hand drops back to his side. “You’ve grown so tall.”

“It’s been three years.”

“I know and I’m so sorry. I wanted to send for you two sooner, but my life”—he stares at his feet—“I didn’t want to take you away from your friends, from the only world you knew….” His voice trails off.

“Sorry isn’t good enough.” I spit the words, and as they fly toward him I realize I’ve stepped forward. His long arms could span the space between us now but they don’t.

His head drops and I watch as his fingers pulse at his side, stretching and relaxing in a constant rhythm, like he’s
resisting using them to kill me.

Studying my father’s hand, I imagine the damage it could do, try to dig out the long buried memories, but instead of the ones I want, the memory that floods forward is one featuring that same pulsing hand on my back, its rhythmic movements comforting, stroking, brushing away my childhood fears when I woke from a nightmare. It wasn’t just Mom who took care of us. He did, too. My throat tightens.

My father lifts his face and when our eyes meet his expression changes, but not to pain—there’s a soft smile in his eyes, something tender. He reaches for me again.

I snap out of my nostalgia-induced happiness. I can’t let one happy memory fog this moment’s true and valid emotions. Narrowing my eyes, I let anger build and release my hate.

“Murderer.” The word shoots from me with venom. Our eyes lock. I can sense his heart beating strong and fast. I squeeze.

His hand flies to his chest; the torch drops to the stone floor with a clatter. He groans.

I’ve hurt him—really hurt him—and although I shouldn’t care, I do.

Breaking eye contact, I rush forward as he drops to a crouch. My hand lands on his back. He grabs me, rises, and pulls me into his arms. And the scent of his skin, like leather and smoke, brings back another rush of memories—memories that rouse emotions I don’t want.

I push against him. “Let me go or I’ll kill you like you killed mom.”

His arms drop off me like we’re magnets of opposite polarities and I slam into the wall.

“Glory, no,” Drake calls out and my head snaps around to see Burn carrying Drake.

My mask dangles from Burn’s hand. “Don’t leave this behind—ever.”

I grab it from him.

“Dad.” Drake reaches out and our father pulls him from Burn’s arms into his own. “I knew you’d come back for us.” Drake, the foolish little traitor, buries his face in our father’s neck.

“Let him go.” I grab Drake by the shoulders and try to pull him away from the murderous monster.

“Stop.” Drake glares at me. “Dad’s not going to hurt me.”

“How can you say that when—”

Burn plants his hand over my mouth, muffling the rest of my sentence, and raises the other hand to silence us all. He adjusts his harness and then grabs Drake and straps him onto his chest. “We’ve got company.” He tips his head back in the direction we’ve come from. “Let’s move. Quickly. Quietly. Now.”

His voice comes out like a deep hum. He shuts off his torch, grabs my wrist, and directs my hand to the tail of his coat. The coat pulls me forward, and holding tight, I race behind Burn in the darkness, with the heat of my father’s breath in pursuit.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

^B
URN STOPS AND
, without warning, lifts me above his head and shoves me into what feels like a narrow cave, almost like a shelf dug into the side of the tunnel. Frantic, I reach out and find the back, roof, and one side with my hands, then the other side with an outstretched foot. The space is like a box carved out of the stone, about five feet deep and wide and less than four feet high.

“Glory?” Drake says softly, and I reach toward the voice and pull my brother in beside me, and then another body moves in, and I can tell from the smell it’s my father. He touches my arm but I shrug him off, and he makes a soft sound, like I’ve slapped him.

There’s a pause and I wonder what’s happened to Burn. Is he going to hide somewhere else? Fight on his own? Or is this all part of his plan? Perhaps the people following us are his allies and we’re stored here for dinner.

But soon I smell Burn’s hot scent. With those goggles, he’s the only one of us who can see and the only one with the strength to get into this high cave on his own. His presence heats the closed air as he arranges us until we’re sitting, hunched over and in a row against the back wall. Drake is between me and our father and Burn’s on my other side.

The footsteps draw closer and a faint glow fills the tunnel, revealing a junction. As well as continuing straight ahead, another tunnel branches off. We should have taken one path, giving us a 50 percent chance of escape. Trapped in this cave, we’re dead if they spot us.

“Which way?” asks a voice and everything inside me lurches. It sounds like Cal but can’t be. My insides crawl like my nerves want out, and I’m not sure whether I want to run into Cal’s arms or kill him for his betrayal.

Burn’s arm shoots across my body, pressing me back against the wall of the cave. He recognized Cal’s voice, too.

“You’re the one who thinks they came down here,” a deep voice says.

“Wild goose chase,” says a man with a gruff voice.

“All I did was find her bracelet.” Cal’s voice is even and strong.

My stomach flutters. Clearly, my stupid stomach has forgotten his betrayal.

“Where are they headed?” Gruff Voice asks.

“If I knew, we’d be there,” Cal answers. “I didn’t even know this tunnel existed.”

Cal’s helping the Comps track us, which confirms my worst assumptions. My throat tightens and I feel the signs of my curse building behind my eyes. I hate Cal. I hate him with all my heart, and if I could see into his eyes right now, I’d show him how much.

Something brushes my head, and I tense but soon realize Burn’s putting his night-vision goggles onto my face. Once they’re on, everything’s bathed in a strange green light and
I spin toward Drake. He’s scared, likely because my father’s arm is slung over his shoulder. How dare he?

But I’m kidding myself about the source of my brother’s fear. Drake’s leaning his head into the pit of our father’s arm and is cuddled up to the man as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I choke down disbelief. The person who paralyzed him is not the reason he’s scared.

Burn touches my arm and I turn back toward him. “Quiet,” he mouths. He draws a finger across his throat.

One of the men moves into view and leans back against the tunnel wall, almost directly across from the cave near the junction. He’s a Comp in full armor, and the light from his torch glints off his heavy chest plate. The mouth of our cave is level with his head, and if he raises his torch light a few feet, we’ll be visible.

“Shine that light over here.” Cal steps into view and points to the branched-off tunnel.

“You don’t give the orders.” Gruff Voice shoves him and Cal slams into the wall in front of us. His head is so close to the cave’s entrance, if I slid forward and straightened my legs, I could kick him. For an instant I want to and then I come to my senses.

A Comp shines his torch where Cal was pointing.

“Look,” Cal says. “Footprints, leading this way.”

“Let’s move,” Deep Voice says, and the Comps and Cal march forward into the path on the right.

After what feels like hours but is probably less than a minute, Burn lifts his iron-strap arm from my body and I can finally draw deep breaths. But the air in the cave is rank and
I want out.

“Can we leave?” I whisper.

“Burn,” my father says, “give Glory and me a moment to talk?”

“No,” Drake whispers hard and strong, and I’m so proud of my little brother for wanting to protect me from our monster of a father.

“No time for talking.” Burn slides forward. He drops down out of the cave, cranks his torch, and sets it on the tunnel floor, pointing up and casting a dull light. “It won’t take them long to figure out that the trail I left doesn’t lead far.”

Brilliant
. Burn is smarter than I thought. Now we’ll have a head start down the alternate route.

Burn grabs my ankle and pulls.

“Hey.” I kick free.

He raises his hands as if in surrender. “Come out on your own then. Hurry.”

“You go,” my father says to me. “I’ll hand Drake to Burn.”

I let Burn help me down then he reaches back for my brother. Light from the Comps’ torches bounces in the tunnel to the right, growing brighter. They’re coming back toward us. Apparently they’ve already realized they were tricked. Burn pushes Drake back into the cave, then bends to turn off our lantern.

I need to do something. Fast.

I dash to the entrance of the tunnel they’re in and yell, “Help! You went the wrong way.” My voice echoes down the tunnel as I head for the other fork and run. I’m not sure what
I’ll do once they catch me, and they will, given my bad ankle, but that doesn’t matter as long as they don’t find Drake. Burn will keep him safe.

Heavy footsteps pound behind me and I stumble in the darkness, my ankle screaming.

A hard, strong arm wraps around my waist, lifting me from the ground. It’s Burn. I’m relieved and terrified at once. If he followed me, then my brother is alone with our father.

He stops, thrusts me forward, and my hands strike metal. “Climb.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

^A
S
I
CLIMB
, a faint hint of light drifts toward me. When I get to the top, the ladder meets an entrance to a small passageway, like a pipe or a chute, which slopes up at a sharp angle. Light glints off a chain extending down, so I grab it and start to pull myself through the narrow space. It’s too tight for me to fully rise onto all fours, but I do my best to use my legs to speed my ascent.