Relentless (37 page)

Morgan and Payton stood five feet apart, faces grim, staring at one another. This run-down courtyard, continents away from where they’d last been together seemed hardly the place for a reunion.

Yet here they were.

Morgan looked into Payton’s eyes. The eyes she remembered so well. The eyes she could get lost in and feel safer than anyplace else in the world.

But she barely recognized them. Their warmth had been replaced by a steely coldness that chilled her to the bone.

A small crowd began to gather, pouring from the front door. And Alex stood by, watching with tremendous interest. But Morgan and Payton noticed none of this. The world was empty to them, aside from one another.

They heard nothing else, saw nothing else. Refused to blink.

Neither of them spoke. Morgan was still flushed with shock, but Payton faced her calmly, hands clasped behind his back. Birds and crickets chirped in the surrounding trees, but otherwise not a sound was heard.

Grant watched, waiting for someone to speak. Considered speaking himself to break the tension but decided against it.

This man who stood before them—this warrior with a sword who had attacked and nearly killed him, and moved faster than anyone could see—this couldn’t
possibly
be the man Morgan had once been in love with.

Could he?

She had certainly never mentioned that he knew how to fight. The way Morgan had described him, he sounded more like a hopeless romantic.

Payton extended his right arm to point at Grant.

‘‘If you lot knew who this man really is,’’ Payton seethed, ‘‘you wouldn’t be helping him. You would
beg
me to kill him.’’

Morgan didn’t flinch, though a trickle of blood from her head wound dripped onto her shirt. ‘‘I
do
know who he is. It’s
you
that concerns me.

You look like Payton . . .’’

Payton took a step closer to her, a mixture of emotions broiling just beneath his surface. ‘‘Oh, it’s me. No parlor trick. But I am not the man you remember with that flawless memory of yours.’’

‘‘Certainly not,’’ Morgan stood her ground. ‘‘The man I knew was a man of peace. He would
never
have taken another life.’’

‘‘Nine years is a long time, love.’’

Morgan tried to keep up a composed appearance, but her breathing had changed, her eyes were shifting around, and her entire body had become tense. ‘‘I don’t understand. Any of this. What’s happened to you?’’

‘‘
You
happened. That day in France, when I pushed you out of the way of the cave-in, only to have you leave me for dead while you saved yourself. Everything that happened to both of us after that was a direct result of
your
decision. You could say it was a defining moment.’’

‘‘You can’t possibly think I left you in that cave, knowing you had
any
chance of living. I held your hand until it went cold, I can still remember—’’

‘‘Did you have any idea how much I
lived
for you?’’ he spat, taking a step closer to her. ‘‘Did you know that if it had been you buried beneath the earth, I would
still
be there, holding your hand? I would have found a way to get you out. I would have done
something
. . . After I was Shifted, you were the one bright spot in an existence turned upside-down, the one source of hope I had. I would have done
anything
—’’ He broke off, looking away. Then his gaze pierced hers again. ‘‘If it had been you, I wouldn’t have been able to live. Do you get that? Did you have any clue how
deep
my feelings ran?’’

Morgan went pale, then she whispered, ‘‘I don’t think I did.’’

‘‘You want to know what’s happened to me?’’ Payton said, his voice rising. He took another step closer until mere inches separated them.

‘‘I did what I had to do, to live without you.’’

She looked down.

‘‘
Forget
the man who loved you,’’ Payton went on, right in her face. ‘‘I am not that raving mad, lovesick child who held to the notion that love could make anything better. That man
died
nine years ago. You won’t be seeing him again.’’

A few tears escaped Morgan’s eyes as she whispered, still looking down, ‘‘Who has taken his place?’’

‘‘Someone you don’t want to know.’’

Morgan, Grant could tell, was using every measure at her disposal to keep her composure. He had always known her to be so calm and wise, that even in the short time he’d gotten to know her, he could see that now she was in a turmoil that was unprecedented. She closed her eyes and squeezed out a few more tears while Payton stared her down, daring her to respond.

She took several deep breaths and then forced herself to look at Payton once more.

‘‘What do you want with
him
?’’ Morgan quietly asked, nodding to Grant.

Payton answered slowly, over-pronouncing his words as if he were speaking to a child. ‘‘I want him to die.’’

‘‘Grant is not your enemy.’’

Payton blinked for the first time since spotting Morgan. His eyes shifted over to Grant and then back to Morgan. His body weight shifted back a bit, the slightest hint of confusion creeping across his features.

‘‘His name is Grant?’’ Payton asked suspiciously. ‘‘Grant
Borrows
?

This man is the great ‘savior of the Loci’?’’

Morgan nodded, noting his sudden change.

Payton took a full step back and stared at Grant, a dazed sort of doubt overtaking his features. No one spoke. Grant looked back at him in confusion.

‘‘But he wears the
Seal
,’’ Payton said in clench-jawed protest.

Morgan studied him. ‘‘The what?’’

‘‘This can’t be.’’ Payton looked all around, at the ground, at the sky, at everyone present. ‘‘Unless . . . unless I have been misdirected.’’

‘‘Hey, Drexel’s gone!’’ Alex shouted.

Everyone turned to look, and the detective was nowhere to be seen. The woods closed in thickly around the asylum, and he’d slipped off when Morgan appeared. Grant knew he was out there, but they’d never find him now.

Still Morgan was undeterred from her conversation with Payton. ‘‘Does that mean you won’t harm Grant?’’ she asked.

Payton turned sharply as he kicked his sword off of the ground, caught the handle, and swished it until the tip was poking Grant in the chest, all in one movement. Julie cried in protest but Grant pulled her behind him with one hand.

‘‘Even if he
is
this man ‘Borrows,’ he is still wearing
that
,’’ Payton nodded at Grant’s ring. ‘‘And the time of the Seal is nearly upon us. I have sworn by blood to prevent his coming, and I will fulfill that vow. But this matter of identity must be resolved.’’

Grant opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn’t think of anything. He was too exhausted. And Payton was already walking away anyway, sheathing his sword.

As he mounted his motorcycle, Grant called out, ‘‘Hey!’’

Payton turned his head.

‘‘Where’d you get that sword?’’ Grant asked.

Payton roared the bike’s engine to life.

‘‘It was constructed centuries ago for a singular purpose,’’ he replied. ‘‘To slay the Bringer.’’

46

‘‘He always had quick reflexes,’’ Morgan explained an hour later to Grant from behind her desk in the Common Room. Fletcher had joined them, and Julie sat beside Grant, applying bandages to his cuts. ‘‘I never made the connection until today that his reflexes could
be
his mental gift . . .’’

She was silent for so long that even Julie stopped what she was doing—applying a large bandage around Grant’s stomach—to look up.

The stillness of the room caught up with her finally, and Morgan snapped out of her reverie.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ she said. ‘‘I can’t reconcile the man I knew with the man we just met. And I can’t help suspecting that it’s all my fault . . .’’

Grant allowed her a moment before he spoke again. ‘‘I don’t understand how extra brain power enables his
body
to move faster.’’

Alex approached from behind. ‘‘Your physical body is regulated by your mental processes,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s basic physics, sweetie. The neurons that send commands from his brain to the rest of his body move at an accelerated rate—
that’s
his mental gift. It’s all connected, so his muscles are able to react equally fast. But it only gives him a quick burst of speed. He couldn’t maintain it.’’

‘‘Oh good, it’s the turncoat,’’ Fletcher mumbled.

‘‘So, he can’t
run
that fast?’’ Grant asked.

‘‘He could for a few seconds. Enough to get out of sight, disorient his target.’’

Grant, Julie, and Fletcher were so caught up in her explanation that they never saw Morgan rise from her chair as Alex was talking. The
pop
they heard was their first indication.

Morgan had shoved Alex roughly into a chair and smacked her across the face.

‘‘Do you know how
hard
we’ve worked to keep this place a secret!’’ Morgan shouted at Alex, her hands on the chair’s armrests, leaning in. ‘‘To have found a place where we can live without worrying about being found? Did thoughts like these even cross your mind while in Drexel’s custody, or did you ever manage to stop thinking about
yourself
?’’

Alex glared at her as everyone watched.

‘‘I didn’t tell him about this place. I
did
tell him about you, Grant,’’ she added with a fleeting glance at Julie, ‘‘and I would have told him more if he had asked me. I couldn’t stop myself.’’

Grant studied her. ‘‘What, he used some kind of truth agent on you?’’

She nodded.

Morgan was taken aback by this, and returned to her chair, sullen and dismayed. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

‘‘Wait a second,’’ Julie broke in. ‘‘Just thought of something . . . Pay-ton called your ring a Seal.
The
Seal. He said its ‘time’ was almost here.’’

Morgan turned to Julie, picking up on her train of thought. ‘‘And Marta told me that Grant would find out the truth soon. Then there is the prophecy on the stone tablet.’’

Grant finally caught on. ‘‘Whatever’s happening to me—the Shift, the powers, the Forging, all of it—it’s unfolding according to some kind of
timetable
.’’

‘‘You know,’’ Fletcher griped. ‘‘I had this figured out
weeks
ago, but does anyone ever listen to me?’’

‘‘So, the question then becomes . . .’’ Morgan began.

‘‘What happens at the end of the timetable? And who made it to begin with?’’ Grant finished, throwing a quick glance at Alex. ‘‘We should talk to Marta about this.’’

‘‘Oh, she’s dead,’’ Fletcher announced without import. ‘‘Marta never regained consciousness when the rest of us did after the recent . . .
incident
.’’

Grant gaped at Morgan. ‘‘But you told me
everyone
woke up after the Forging!’’

‘‘Marta was
very
old,’’ Morgan said just as Fletcher was about to speak again. ‘‘She had a weak heart. We don’t know if it was this ‘Forging,’ as you call it, that ended her life or not.’’

Grant digested this slowly.
Another one . . . Another one gone
because of me . . .

‘‘Can we return to the matter of Drexel for a moment?’’ Morgan asked, partly because she meant it and partly to distract Grant from unpleasant feelings. ‘‘If Alex here didn’t reveal our location to him, then who did?’’

Everyone looked at Alex. She shrugged. ‘‘I
woulda
told him, while I was drugged, if I’d known. I’ve never been here before today. But he never asked me.’’

‘‘Which means he likely knew already,’’ Morgan reasoned. She turned. ‘‘Fletcher? Any intuition as to who our traitor is?’’

He never hesitated. His eyes moved to Grant, staring for a long moment but as Grant was about to protest he looked past him and pointed: ‘‘Her.’’

They all turned, but Morgan said it before they could see who Fletcher was looking at.

‘‘
Hannah
,’’ she gasped.

Hannah had just run into the Common Room, slinging her blond locks over one shoulder and reacting in horror to the destruction and injuries she saw.

Grant stood, his features hardening. ‘‘Hello, beautiful.’’

Hannah froze at Grant’s tone of voice. She gazed around, taking in the dozens of eyeballs all pointing in her direction. Something about the coldness of this greeting . . .

‘‘Some-body’s bust-ed,’’ Alex sing-songed.

‘‘How could you sell me out?’’ Grant asked, his face an unnerving, even calm.

Hannah’s eyes went wide, her face flushed. ‘‘I didn’t . . .’’ she blurted.

‘‘How could you sell them out!’’ he shouted, pointing at the Loci.

Hannah stared at him blankly. ‘‘I, I didn’t think—’’ she stammered.

‘‘No, you’ve been doing a
lot
of thinking,’’ Grant seethed. He was fighting to keep his voice calm, not to shout again. As he spoke something new clicked. ‘‘All this time you’ve been spying on me, reporting back to Drexel about my actions. That’s how he’s been able to keep such close tabs on me. And you gave him the asylum. All of this misery and bloodshed is on
your
hands.’’

‘‘No! I never meant—’’ Hannah started, tears forming in her eyes.

‘‘But you
did
!’’ Grant bellowed. Small objects all around the room jumped in place as he shouted. ‘‘When you make someone trust you while lying to them, that’s something you
mean
to do!’’ Grant’s thoughts lingered on the conversation they’d had in the dinner hall of this very building, only days before.

The pool table upended itself and crashed against a wall.

‘‘Grant, calm yourself,’’ Morgan said.

Hannah spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘‘My feelings for you—’’

‘‘When you sell out everyone who trusts you,’’ Grant said coldly, ‘‘then no matter what the reason . . . it’s premeditated. It’s calculated.’’

He took a dangerous step toward her. ‘‘It’s
personal
.’’

Hannah glanced around at the anger in every face surrounding her, even from faces she didn’t recognize.

A single tear appeared.

And then she moved.

‘‘You’re going to just let her
leave
?’’ Alex asked, not believing her eyes.