“I don’t know. Two of them have a direct line to the future. One’s a boy genius. And there’s no limit to the crazy things Zack will do to get you back. He’s probably already stealing a blimp.”
Amanda let out a teary laugh. The maddening artist would jump into fire for her, and yet he fled for the hills at the first sign of romantic trouble. If anything, she wanted to live just to smack him.
“We don’t even know if they got out of the building.”
“They did,” Hannah said. “I’m in the blackest mood of my life, but I know in my heart they got away. I know I want to see them again. I might even be able to handle what’s coming if I had all of you with me. Can’t you understand that, Amanda? Don’t you feel the same way?”
Warm tears spilled down Amanda’s face. She bit her lip and nodded.
“Good. So you’ll quit bitching and let me carry you?”
She sniffed and nodded again. Hannah looked around.
“All right then. I guess the first step . . .”
Her eyes froze wide at the office door. A large black figure stopped just outside the clouded glass. “Oh no . . .”
The armored Dep raised his handheld thermal scanner. He snapped to alertness at the orange figures on his display.
“I have two on the fifth floor! Two on the fifth—”
His body twitched with neuroelectric mayhem as a hidden chaser from the nearby flower pot jolted him. Hannah had snatched Evan’s computer from the rug and frantically mashed at the controls. She knew from Amanda’s painful experience that one of the buttons remotely triggered the weapon. Apparently she’d found it.
The agent staggered forward, his mirrored black helmet crashing through the glass. He toppled back to the hallway carpet.
The other seven elites quickly converged on the fifth-floor landing. Melissa eyed the twitching agent from a distance, then motioned to three of her crew.
“Loop around and flank the other side. Make sure they—”
A small black ball the size of an apple flew out of the broken door of the law office. It bounced off a planter and rolled five yards down the hall.
The Deps watched in puzzlement as Evan’s sleeping-gas grenade exploded in a swirling white cloud, far away from any living targets. Melissa caught a hint of quick movement through the smoke cover.
“It’s the swifter. She’s making a run for it. Go downstairs and guard all exits. Do not let her out of this building.”
The agents hurried down the steps. Melissa held her breath and sped through the gas cloud. She could see the cumbersome figure on the walkway now. To her surprise, it wasn’t just Hannah on the move. The Great Sisters Given were fleeing as one.
Hannah clenched her jaw, struggling to keep Amanda steady on her back. A week ago, she’d taught herself how to expand her temporal field, a trick she hoped she’d never have to use. She knew that if even a small piece of Amanda left the confines of the temporis, she’d be rifted. But with armed and armored agents running around like cheetahs, there was little choice. She had to try. She had to run faster.
Melissa bolted after them, vexed by the widening gap. Even with the burden of a 120-pound sibling, Hannah had the speed advantage. She must have been shifted at twice the suit’s limit.
Before Melissa could line up a decent leg shot, Hannah ducked into the stairwell. Melissa chased her inside and crunched her brow at the heavy footsteps above her. What the hell is she doing?
She activated her transmitter. “Disregard my last order. The targets are ascending. Follow me in pursuit.”
Amanda locked her arms around Hannah’s shoulders, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Every stride was murder on her jostled ankle. Worse, she knew it’d be just a matter of moments before Hannah’s legs screamed with an agony all their own. It was a seven-story climb to the roof. Hannah couldn’t possibly carry her the whole way.
Halfway past the eighth floor, the actress began to stagger. Her lead on her pursuer shrank with each step. Melissa fired a quick shot as Hannah turned the ninth-floor landing. The bullet pierced the wall, missing her thigh by inches.
Hannah’s calves burned with fury. Her lungs stabbed her with broken glass. Between all her dread and blinking red gauges, a cold inner voice assured her that death wouldn’t be so bad. There was a Heaven, it insisted, even for mediocrities like her.
No.
She gritted her teeth and floored her inner pedal, pushing herself past 50×. The air turned ten degrees colder and three shades bluer. The sisters shot ahead of Melissa.
Amanda leered in astonishment at the strange new artifacts in her senses—the rainbow streaks of color in the corner of her vision, the distant sound of wind chimes. A large white butterfly dawdled past her, trailing arcs of light in its fluttering wake. Amanda wasn’t sure if she’d lost her mind or found a strange new corner of her sister’s world. It was mad and it was beautiful.