Usually, I can keep up with Deo. In fact, most of the time, he’s the one running a little behind. But my ankle is throbbing, a slow dull ache that keeps me from putting my full weight on it.
We’re in a clearing, with just a few scattered trees, running slightly downhill toward a more densely forested strip of land. Even though the sky is dark, I can make out the shape of a building off to the right and another one, at a distance, to the left. A muffled noise, like a car alarm, sounds several blocks away.
As we run, the alarm noise either stops or grows too faint to hear. I look back over my shoulder again at one of the buildings. The one we came from. The structure looks as though it’s damaged, but it’s not the ruined building from Taylor’s drawing.
A light from above sweeps over the ground behind us. Once, twice. There’s a rapid thwop-thwop noise overhead, but it fades quickly. A plane. No, a helicopter. It sounds familiar, like one that Abner rode in during Vietnam.
I turn to see if I can spot where it’s going, and that’s when I see someone behind us, closing in fast. A man. He wasn’t there the last time I looked back. He’s not big enough to be Lucas. Thinner. More like—
“Faster, Deo! I think it’s Cregg!”
The man is shouting my name. We push into the trees, and the ground begins to drop off. The tree cover is dense, but I see a road ahead. A flash of lights from a car. Power lines above us. And in that split second that I’m looking upward at the utility lines, I trip over something. A rock, or maybe a tree root. My ankle howls in protest.
A hand grabs my arm as I start to fall. I open my mouth to tell Deo to keep running, certain that it’s Cregg, but all that comes out is a scream.
And then I realize it’s Daniel.
He says, “You’re going—”
“. . . wrong with her? She was awake a minute ago.”
Deo’s arm is around me and I’m leaning against his chest when Lucas’s hand connects with my face. It’s not a gentle tap like when Deo was trying to wake me up earlier. This is a full-bore slap, and it’s all I can do to keep control away from the three Furies roaring inside my brain. My fingers clench into claws, ready to rake the eyes out of Lucas’s head.
Most of their thoughts aren’t in English, but the few that are make their intent pretty clear.
Stop his heart.
Throw him through the glass wall.
The ideas keep on coming, each a little more gruesome than the last.
STOP! I can’t think!
“. . . happens sometimes. Most of the time, actually. Her brain had trouble . . . allocating space . . . for the new guy. She had to . . . shut down for a while.”
I doubt Lucas can tell that Deo is lying. He also might not realize that Deo’s having a very hard time controlling his own temper, something that’s clear to me not only from the sound of Deo’s voice, but also from the way his arm is shaking.
“And you hitting her sure as hell isn’t helping, so just—”
“I’m okay.” I open my eyes before Deo can finish his sentence. Lucas might do more than tase him.
When I speak, Lucas takes a step back. There’s a touch of fear in his eyes that I haven’t seen before.
I like it. And so do my resident Furies.
His hand slides inside the jacket he’s wearing as he moves away, making me think that Lucas might have a little sixth sense of his own. He doesn’t actually draw the gun. But he keeps his hand there, at the same spot where Aaron wore the holster he showed me that night at the townhouse.
“Did you pick him up? The deaf-and-dumb guy?”
“Will? Yeah. Not deaf. Just mute.”
Lucas gives me a who-cares look. “So . . . you know what I’m thinkin’ now?”
“You’re thinking you’d like to shoot both of us and be done with it. But I didn’t need Will’s gift to figure that out.”
Deo’s arm is still around me, and it’s hard to catch a breath. “It’s okay, D. You can relax.”
“I am relaxed.” His arm loosens, but he doesn’t step away from me. And given that he’s watched me keel over twice in the past half hour, that’s probably not a bad idea.
Then I get a flash. It’s visual, like a written note:
DON’T LIKE THIS.
THEY NEED TO HURRY.
I’m confused momentarily, until I realize Will must be feeding me Lucas’s thoughts, the way he jotted down thoughts he swiped from people in the cafeteria. It’s nothing I couldn’t have guessed—Lucas glanced toward the door a few seconds ago. I suspect most of Lucas’s thoughts are pretty obvious. He’s about as deep as a puddle in the middle of a drought. But I can definitely see where this ability could come in handy.
Wait. Will said THEY. Cregg and Timmons? Cregg and Dacia? Someone else?
There’s a pause, and the answer comes from Jaden, not Will.
Not sure. He sees it as words not . . . full thoughts.
That’s okay. Just . . . let me know if you get anything else from—