Deviants (23 page)

He points to the right. “It slopes up more slowly over there.”

I look up, searching for handholds above us, but he’s
right. The bank is nearly sheer here. There’s no way up.

We head to the right and I slip on a large boulder.

“Easy,” Burn says. “They saw us; they’re not going anywhere.”

Unless my father doesn’t
want
us to find them. Unless the Comps catch up with them. Unless those horrible men from the fort chased us here. Unless there are Shredders attacking Drake right now, or one of those Shredder dogs.

Disasters flutter in my brain, marring the lightness I felt on first spotting them high above us on the bank.

Burn stops and studies the rocks up and to the sides. “Let’s try here.”

I don’t see a path, but I want to get up to the top so badly—and I trust his judgment. How ironic that I trust Burn to lead me to the man who warned me never to trust anyone, then proved he was least worthy of trust.

Nerves about facing my father twist my stomach, so I try to focus on the climb and on watching where Burn puts his hands and feet on the steep slope. After a few minutes of climbing I glance down. Big mistake. If my hand or foot slipped, there’d be nothing to break my fall and, even if I managed to survive, few of my bones would. I’d be smashed. Dizziness threatens to fulfill my nightmare, but Burn’s hand lands on mine as he reaches back for me.

“Almost there.” He looks into my eyes and I nod, shocked at how comforted I feel.

We climb for another few minutes then he stops on a shelf of sorts. It’s not that bad. I’ve been on plenty of narrower window ledges inside Haven, and I’m relieved we can take a
brief rest before completing our climb. I turn and slide my back down the rock to sit, just fitting on the rock ledge with my knees tucked into my chest.

“Crap,” Burn says, and I look up and see what caused him to use off-policy language.

Nauseated, I rise to my feet. “Do we need to go back down?” Above us, there’s almost fifteen feet of vertical cliff. The ledge we’re on tapers off to nothing not far ahead. Almost at the top, we’ve run out of a safe route.

“Hector!” Burn yells, and a few moments later I see my father’s face and shoulders emerge from the cliff’s edge.

“Got yourself into a bad spot, haven’t you.” He grins, and I look for a loose rock to throw at his face.

“Hand her up,” my father says and, before I can even think about what he means, Burn bends and grabs me below my knees.

“Keep straight,” he says, lifting me, and I put my hands in front of my face and freeze every muscle as my body rises up the edge of the cliff. If I struggle, or even let my torso bend, I’ll fall.

Fear races through me as my father’s hands reach down. Burn thrusts me higher and my father looks directly into my eyes. “Take my hands.”

All-too-familiar sparks ignite behind my eyes and I can sense his thoughts:
Trust me, Glory
.

Trust him? Is he kidding? Anger builds.

I’m not deliberately trying to hurt him, not trying to use my curse, but it’s obvious when the pain strikes. I see it in his face.

Breaking eye contact, I fight to regain my center, to squash my fear and hatred. I don’t fully understand what just happened. I can’t have really heard his thoughts, and in spite of Burn’s misconceptions, I can’t control my curse. Still, if I want to see Drake, I have to find a way to avoid killing my father—at least until I get to the top of this cliff. I need to trust him to help me.

I look back up. He’s still there but his expression’s grim. I raise my arms and he grabs on to my wrists. I grab his, too, and we’re linked. My life is literally in my father’s murderous hands.

“Got her!” he yells. Burn’s hands slide to the bottom of my feet, and he gives a final thrust. I rise and imagine Burn pressing his arms straight under my feet.

My father grimaces with strain, and then he releases one wrist, grasps my upper arm, and slides back on the rock. He lets my other wrist go and I dangle for a terrifying instant, but sling my free arm over the top to grab onto the edge of a rock. It thankfully doesn’t shift under my weight.

My face and chest are over the top now, and my dad pulls on my other arm as I push and wiggle until my weight safely transfers onto my belly. My still-healing ribs scream.

He reaches over to help me pull farther forward, but I swat his hand away and push down with my arms. I pull up one leg then the other. I made it.

It’s only then that I wonder how Burn’s going to follow. Even if he can jump that high, the angle’s too sharp, the ledge too narrow. I spin around on my belly and stick my face over the edge. He’s gone.

I spot him down and across from where we were, and he’s searching for another way up.

“He’ll make it,” my father says. “Don’t worry.”

“Hi.” Drake’s voice comes from a few yards away. I scramble to my feet and see my brother leaning against the trunk of a pine tree—standing.

“What?” I race over and pull him into my arms. “How?” I push him back so I can see his face. His huge grin erases the sting and ache from every scrape and bruise on my body. “You’re standing.”

He nods. “Can’t walk yet—not more than a step or two—but they have feeling and I can move them. Look.”

He slides one of his legs away from the other. He teeters a bit, and I grab his shoulders to keep him from falling, but he’s already caught his balance.

“Drake, I’m so happy.” Tears threaten to choke off my words, so I close my eyes for a moment to calm myself. “I’m so glad you’re okay and I’m so sorry I left you in that tunnel. I was only trying to distract the Comps and—” I stop to catch my breath. “Your legs. How long have they had feeling?”

He leans back against the trunk again. “They started to tingle almost as soon as we got out of the tunnels. Dad says it’s the dust.” He shakes his head, as if he doesn’t believe it himself. “When I woke up the first morning, I could bend them, and after a little practice, I could stand. They’re getting stronger and stronger, but get tired easily.” He bends them and I help him slide down to sit.

Shaking, I sit down next to him. “I’ll never leave you
again. Ever. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, Drake. It’s my job to protect you and I left you all alone. I don’t think I could survive if I’d never seen you again.”

He hugs me. “You were trying to draw the Comps away. It was brave.”

“It was impulsive. I didn’t think it through.”

“We’re together now. Why worry about what might have happened?”

“When did you get so wise and grown-up?”

His face is full of concern, and I can’t believe how our roles have reversed. I’m the one who takes care of him. I’ll never let him down again.

A shadow moves. I look up to see my father standing nearby. Has he been spying the entire time? I was so excited to see Drake—Drake standing—I’d forgotten he was here. I pretend he’s not. I will not let my father ruin this perfect moment. I’ve found my brother again. With me, he’ll be safe.

Sounds emerge from the forest and I prepare to shelter Drake from whatever comes, but it’s just Burn. He crashes past a branch and nods toward us.

“Reunion over?” he asks. “Let’s get moving.”

I spin back toward my father, but Drake’s grinning in his direction and I’m too exhausted and sore to face the full reality of this situation, or think about my father’s crime. For a moment, I’d rather pretend I’ve got a parent again. Just for a while. Just until I regain my energy.

One false move and I’ll kill him.

Lying in the small cave Burn found, I grab on to the sleeve of Drake’s jacket. No chance anyone will take him away while we sleep. In fact, I don’t plan to sleep but I’ve had that falling feeling a few times, and I might not have a choice. Sleep will eventually win. Burn and my father are lying near the cave’s entrance, and I’m glad to know that if Shredders show up, Drake won’t be the first taken.

I stretch the aching muscles of my legs and flex my throbbing feet. We walked all day, and Dad and Burn took turns carrying Drake. I worried that the straps of the harness Burn uses for Drake might reopen his shoulder wound, but he didn’t complain or show any signs that he’s injured.

Drake talked nonstop for the first few hours, telling me how he and Dad had to wait at the mouth of the tunnel for a full day before they could leave safely, and how Dad snuck them past ten sleeping Shredders once they did get out. While I’m glad I’m back with Drake and glad he seems happy, I cringe, thinking about how much danger my brother faced, how I let him down, how if I’d been smart and moved us more often, how if I’d stayed away from Cal, we might now still be safe inside Haven.

But I’m no longer certain that would be preferable. Crazy—since I’m currently lying on hard, cold stone—but true. As scary as it is Outside, especially when the wind picks up and we have to put on our masks, I’ve never felt more alive and free—almost happy.

I dream about my mother, all of us together again, but when
I wake and I’m not in the old apartment we shared, I panic. Remembering quickly, I reach for Drake.

He’s gone. I’m all alone.

I scramble to the mouth of the cave and spot Burn not too far outside, leaning against a rock. He waves, and then looks away. I’m glad I’m not alone, but it’s not Burn I’m looking for. I stand and run forward. Horror seizes my chest.

My father has his hands cupped in front of Drake’s face. He’s feeding him dust.

“What are you doing?” I shout. “Stop!”

I race over the rocky surface, grab the shoulder of Dad’s jacket, and yank as hard as I can. He drops his hands and dust falls to the ground. Drake gasps for air.

“Don’t touch him!” I yell. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

My father’s face falls and he backs up a few steps.

I grab Drake by the shoulders.

“It’s okay, Glory,” he says. “The dust helps my legs.”

“You’ll get dust madness. He’s trying to get you addicted.”

I start to lift Drake, to get him farther away from my father, but Drake uses his legs to fight me.

“Stop it, Glory!” he yells. “Dad was helping me.”

I glare at my father. “I take care of Drake. Me, not you. Leave him alone.” I narrow my eyes and lower my voice. “Murderer.”

The color drains from my father’s face.

“Shut up, Glory,” Drake says. “If you knew the truth—”

“Quiet,” my father says low and hard.

“What Drake?” I ask. “What don’t I know? Please.
Enlighten me.” I charge toward our father and push on his shoulder. Burn steps over and puts his hand on my arm, but I shrug him off. “Leave me alone. Both of you. And leave Drake alone. I can take care of him.”

Burn turns to my father. “He has had enough dust.”

“I told you.” I glare at my father. “I won’t let you hurt him—ever again.”

My father’s eyes twitch. “I’d never hurt Drake.”

I slam the heel of my hand into his shoulder. “How can you say that?” Tears rise in my eyes. “After what you did—how can you possibly say that? How can you possibly expect me to believe that?”

I can barely see, can barely breathe, can barely think. Fire builds behind my eyes. No one will look at me. “You killed Mom, paralyzed Drake, left me unconscious, and yet you expect forgiveness?” I punch his arm.

My father reaches toward me but drops his arm down before his fingers make contact. Smart move. If he tries to touch either of us again, I’ll kill him.

“I’m sorry.” My father’s voice is soft. He keeps his gaze down by his feet where a pocket of dust has collected in a crevice between the boulders.

“Sorry?” I say. “You think a pathetic apology makes it okay?” Heat sets my cheeks aflame. No one will look me in the eyes. I’m not surprised. “Are you going to claim it was an accident, too? As if that makes any difference. Murderer.”

“Shut up, Glory.” Drake staggers forward.

“What?” I step toward him. “Are you going to defend him again?” I grab his shoulders. “How can you possibly forgive
him for what he did?”

Drake shakes his head and looks directly into my eyes. “Glory.
He
didn’t kill mom.
He
didn’t kill anyone.
You did
.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

^“W
HY WOULD YOU
say that?” I ask Drake.

No one interjects to set things straight, so I grab Drake by the shoulders. “He’s been feeding you lies.” Lies more toxic than too much dust. I shake my brother and his shell-like armor appears in an instant.

I drop my hands from his arms and stagger back. He almost falls, but Burn’s there to prop him up. My father backs away and stands watching.

“It’s true,” Drake says. “Dad wasn’t even home when it happened. You were angry. Yelling at mom. She collapsed and I went to help her, but when I looked back at you, pain stabbed inside me.”

“No, that’s not what happened.”

“You blacked out and forgot.” Drake holds up his armored arm. “When I felt the pain, my Deviance appeared for the first time. The pain in my chest stopped, but as I turned back
to mom, a searing pain hit me low in my back. I never felt my legs again. Not until I got Outside. Not until Dad taught me to inhale dust to cure my paralysis.”

I collapse like I’ve been struck down by a girder. Hitting the ground, I turn away from everyone and curl into a ball.

Could I have possibly?
The idea tears through me like a jagged knife.

I did it. Me. I paralyzed my little brother. I killed my own mother. I’m the worst kind of monster. I suck in ragged breaths but I’m crushed, buried under tons of rocks and the weight of this accusation.

Images of that day drift back and don’t help. I was angry. Very angry. In fact, I flew into a rage because—I am so ashamed—because my mother wouldn’t give me permission to go to the Hub without her. I wanted to go with the older kids. With Cal. Even if she’d given me permission, I would have felt out of place with a bunch of kids about to graduate from GT.

Cal asked me to go with them, but even back then I knew he wasn’t inviting me. Not like that. Not how I wanted him to. He was nearly sixteen; I was thirteen. Juliana Holder, a pretty girl his age who liked him, was going. I wasn’t even that angry with my mother and certainly wasn’t angry with Drake.