THIRTY-TWO
I LAY FLAT ON my back, staring at the purple-and-orange sky. Waves slapped at the rocks below me. I could barely breathe. My brain scrambled desperately to make sense of where I was and how I got there. I sat up and looked around. I was on the rocky trail, right where I’d started. I touched my face, my hair. I looked down at the flip-flops on my feet.
I didn’t die. It wasn’t real.
I closed my eyes.
It was all in my head. He was all in my head. He wasn’t real.
“And that means I’m officially crazy,” I said aloud, stunned. Malachi had felt so real.
That’s when I noticed there was someone sitting next to me.
I reared back and saw…the most average-looking man I’d ever seen.
“You can’t sit here much longer,” he said. “The morning hikers are on their way. And you’re not crazy. At least, not officially. Let’s go.” He stood up.
“Raphael?”
He raised his eyebrows and looked me over. “Did you hit your head or something?”
“No. But I don’t understand what’s going on.” In a total daze, I got up and started to lean over the rocky precipice. I remembered falling so clearly.
Raphael’s fingers encircled my wrist. “You don’t want to do that, trust me.”
“Did you glue me back together or something?”
“No. You left quite a mess for me to clean up.” He gave me a somber look. “Just like when somebody commits suicide in the dark city—when one body is destroyed, another appears outside the Gates to be led back in. This is an unusual situation, but the same principle applies.”
My heart fluttered in my chest. “So. I actually died.”
“I suggest you take my word for it.” He gestured for me to step away from the cliff’s edge, then turned and headed up the trail.
I staggered after him.
“This is your new assignment,” he said. “Your unit will be based here. Your mission is to find and eliminate the Mazikin threat.”
He stepped onto the street and strolled toward my car.
I looked up and down the road. “This is Rhode Island, right? I mean, this isn’t some crazy hell dimension that just looks like Rhode Island?”
Raphael handed me my keys. “We believe Sil popped up near here, but we’re not exactly sure where. It seemed like a good place to start.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Isn’t this a little too convenient? Sil comes through a breach that just happens to be in Rhode Island, and I happen to come from here?”
His face became completely blank. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
I slumped against the side of my car, my head spinning off its axis.
I was back. I was alive.
But I was dead.
And now I was going to battle Mazikin in freaking Rhode Island. This was going to be interesting—and that was good, because it would get my mind off a few things.
Or at least one big thing.
“Um, so…what do I do now?”
“You’ll go back to your old life. We’ll contact you when we’ve gotten some things settled. The Judge thought it best for you to finish high school. She’s very pro-education. But your missions will start very soon.”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t even count how many kinds of weird were packed into what he’d just said. Raphael looked at me expectantly. He gestured toward my car. “Well, off you go. Go be a normal American teenager.”
I put my hand on the door handle but couldn’t bring myself to open it. I wanted to stay with Raphael for just a few more moments. If he was real, it meant Malachi was real.
He patted my arm. “Just ask me, Lela.”
“How is he? Did she release him into the Countryside?” I wanted to think of him in the sunlight. Even though I’d never be able to see it, I could picture him, that killer smile on his face. It made me happy and incredibly sad all at once.
“No.”
It felt like I’d just been clotheslined. “What? She said if I agreed to serve she would release him!”
“That’s not exactly what she said. And there are consequences for storming into the Judge’s chambers and interrupting a hearing. She doesn’t take that sort of thing lightly.” He squeezed my arm. “She stripped him of his rank and sentenced him to another term of service.”
My face crumpled in grief as the tears fell. All I could think about was that night in the Guard tower, that look of pure longing on Malachi’s face as he gazed out over the wall of the city.
“Oh no,” I choked. “This was my fault.”
Raphael smiled sympathetically. “There you go again. Listen—Malachi made his choice. He knew the likely consequence the moment he entered the chambers. He was not surprised at her decision.”
I hid my face and cried. It was too much. I had taken everything from him: his chance for freedom, his chance to rest and be free. His chance to be happy. He had given it up for nothing. Raphael gently patted my back but remained silent. It didn’t matter. Nothing he said could make it better.
“Is he all right?” I asked quietly.
“Malachi knows his job. He does his duty.”
I clenched my teeth to hold back my scream of frustration. “That’s not what I asked.”
“He’s fine, Lela, and he’s still Malachi. He accepted a very dangerous mission as soon as you left.”
I waved desperately, cutting him off. I put my hand to my mouth, holding in more sobs. I didn’t want to know more. I already felt guilty enough. I opened the car door.
“I’ll wait for you to contact me,” I managed to say, then got into my car, slammed the door shut, and drove away.
I was awakened by sunlight glaring through my window, my dream of Nadia fresh in my mind. I was in her head, seeing what she saw, feeling what she felt. She sat by the sea, looking out on crystal blue waves. For a crazy second, I thought she might be considering drowning herself, but then I noticed her thoughts were completely calm. Someone was sitting next to her. She didn’t turn enough for me to see who it was, but the person was holding her hand. She was happy. She was loved, and she knew it. She didn’t want to be different than she was. She didn’t want anything more than what she had.
“Thank you,” I whispered, rubbing my fingers over the tattoo. Whatever was coming would be bearable now that I knew she was in the Countryside.
I rubbed my eyes. The sun. It seemed so foreign now. I had grown quite accustomed to darkness. There was a knock at my door. “Yeah,” I groaned. I’d been asleep for less than an hour.
Diane popped her head in, smiling brightly. It reminded me of the Judge’s face just before she’d sent me back. I shuddered.
“Baby, it’s after eight. You’re gonna be late for school if you don’t get your butt out of that bed. You know the rules of this house.”
I sat up. She grimaced. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
“Well, you’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon at two. I’ll pick you up from school.” Which meant she didn’t trust me to go there myself.
I nodded. I would cooperate with her…to a point. She was going to be pissed when I exercised my right to refuse a physical exam, but I was in no mood to explain my shiny new scars. Hopefully, I could convince the doctor I was sane without stripping down.
I got myself ready and drove to school, music blaring, trying not to think of Malachi, of his face as I offered up myself for his freedom, which he would never get. I tried not to think about what might be happening to him at that very moment. Half of me was trying to devise some way to get back to the city, but I knew I’d never be allowed to be with him if I did anything to hurt myself. At this point, I knew it didn’t work like that.
I pulled into the student lot and spent several minutes sitting in my car. Tegan parked her silver BMW a few spots away. She slid from the car, all sharp, stylish angles and carefully coordinated accessories, and skipped over to a few of Nadia’s other friends, accepting their hugs and sad smiles.
Then she turned around, like she’d forgotten something in her car. We locked eyes and she beckoned to me. As the new queen bee, I guess she’d decided to be generous and take up Nadia’s charity case.
It was suddenly all too much. With what I hoped was a friendly smile, I waved at Tegan, grabbed my pack, and headed for the back of the school.
I might have quit a year ago, but now I really needed a cigarette.
There were plenty of kids along the rear fence, sneaking in a preclass smoke. I flashed a menacing look at Dirty Jeans. He smirked and turned away, muttering in low tones to his friends. It was extremely tempting to pick a fight with him, just to work out some of my sorrow and anger. I watched him carefully as I bummed a cigarette from the girl next to me, assessing his weak spots.
“Could someone help me find the library?” a voice asked in a clipped, precise accent. I whirled around.
He looked different in the sunlight.
Everything about him was intensified. The angles of his face, the shine of his black hair, the depth of his eyes. But it was him. It. Was. Him.
I took two running steps and jumped on him, sending him crashing backward into the chain-link fence. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, clinging tightly, terrified he was a figment of my imagination and might disappear at any moment. He threw his arms out and grabbed the fence to stop us both from sliding to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a strangled voice. “I am not familiar with this American greeting.”
I pulled back and looked at him. That wasn’t exactly the response I’d been expecting. His brows lifted in confusion. So did mine.
“Malachi?”
“Yes, I’m Malachi. I’m a foreign exchange student?” He looked completely baffled.
All the blood in my body flowed to my feet.
“Don’t you know me?” I whispered. This was the cruelest of cosmic jokes.
He held his expression for a moment more, and then his face transformed, his killer smile sending my blood rushing back to all the right places. “Surprise.”
I slapped him on the arm. “You jerk,” I snarled through pathetic, girly tears. But I held him tighter, pressed myself closer.
He put an arm around me and tangled one of his hands in my hair. “You’re even more beautiful in the sunlight, Lela.”
His kiss was sweet and fierce at the same time. It earned him a round of sarcastic applause from the smokers gathered along the fence. I didn’t care. He tasted just like before, only better.
Somebody walked by and bumped roughly into my shoulder. “Dude, I suggest you tie that bitch up before you f—”
Malachi’s hand shot out and caught Dirty Jeans around the throat. He pulled away from my mouth but held the rest of me firmly against him.
“Forgive me,” Malachi said calmly as he watched Dirty Jeans struggling to breathe. “English is not my first language, so I’m sure I misunderstood what you just said.” After a few more seconds, he released his grip and smiled in an amiable, I-could-kill-you-with-one-hand sort of way. “Would you like to repeat it?”
Dirty Jeans stumbled back, rubbing his neck and looking around for his friends, who had cringed against the fence and were busy watching the empty, cloudless sky. He eyed Malachi up and down and then spared a glance at me. I grinned brightly at him, still wrapped like an octopus around my beautiful boy. Dirty Jeans shook his head and walked away.
Malachi stroked my cheek with his fingers. “You see?” he said proudly. “I am excellent at this type of operation. I’m very good at making friends.”
“Raphael told me you were sentenced to more service. I’m so sorry, Malachi—”
He shook his head and leaned his forehead against mine. “Shh. I got exactly what I needed. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
I took a breath, afraid he would disappear at any second. “Are you really here?”
He kissed me gently. “Lieutenant Malachi Sokol, reporting for duty, Captain.”
“What?”
“I’ve been assigned to your field unit,” he whispered as he nuzzled my neck. Oh, man. Heaven. Help. Me. “I’m afraid I’m already being shockingly insubordinate.”
“Fine, then,” I laughed breathlessly, “I order you to kiss me again.”
He raised an eyebrow and said his next words against my lips, sending chills rocketing through my body. “Yes, ma’am.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Kathleen Ortiz, my incredible agent, for guiding me through this process, cheering me on, calming me down, and for being real (and realistic), hilarious, patient, and relentlessly T. rex-ish when necessary. Becky Yeager, for pulling my manuscript from the slush and honoring it with the term “nightmare fuel.” Nancy Coffey, for a pep talk I’ll never forget, and Joanna Volpe, for support and strategery. Courtney Miller, for giving Lela a chance, and for being this story’s fearless advocate. Jayne Carapezzi, for making it better. And to The Black Rabbit, who brought me to tears by capturing the entire story in a single, powerful image.
I could not have survived without my writing friends. My beloved beta readers: JD, Jaime Lawrence, Jenn Walkup, and Stina Lindenblatt—thank you for tough love and constant encouragement. My favorite teen critic: Leah Block, please continue to set me straight. Online buddies who have become close friends: Lydia Kang, who is grace in electronic form, and Brigid Kemmerer, the ace of the talk-down, who sends me the literary equivalent of eye candy whenever I need it. You have all made this writing thing more rewarding than I ever anticipated.
And finally, thank you to the people who hold me together in “real” life. Paul Block, for being a better mentor than I deserve (and also for having an endless supply of M&M’s in your office), and Liz Cantor, for simply being cool. My beautiful sisters, Cathryn and Robin, for delighting me by being who you are (and for being willing to claim me as your big sis). My mother, Julie, for being the best listener in the world, and my father, Jerry, for your wisdom, and for the thousands of hours you spent reading to your little girls. Joey, for tolerating me when I transformed from sane person to crazy writer almost overnight…and never changed back. And to Asher and Alma, who taught me how fierce love can be. Without all of you, I couldn’t have done this.