Every Other Day
Page 48

I could see it in the distance, guarding the entrance to the building. It took me a moment to place it. Tail of a scorpion, body of a lion, three rows of razor-sharp teeth.
“Is that a manticore?” Skylar said. “Aren’t they extinct?”
Apparently not. Of all the creatures in the preternatural world, this one most resembled the kind of hybrids that Chimera was trying to build. It looked like a dozen different creatures, sewn together by the devil’s seamstress. I catalogued its weapons: the teeth, the tail, the poisonous spines. A niggling sensation told me that I was forgetting—something that I’d read in a book.
Its voice, Zev said. Knowledge flooded my body—memories that weren’t mine, fights that my body hadn’t taken part in.
Lions roared. Harpies screamed. And manticores—with their human mouths and shark teeth—did something else, something unbearable and ungodly.
I processed the facts, but not fast enough, and the manticore’s cry reached my ears. It was like someone was taking a chain saw to my eardrums, making mincemeat of my brain. For the first time ever in this form, I felt something that resembled pain.
Blood poured out of my ears.
The others went down beside me, hands clasped over their ears, writhing in pain. I felt the warmth of blood on my face, trickling out of my nose, as the beast fired—one spine after another digging into my makeshift shield.
Skylar shoved something into my hands—the saw blade—and without thinking, I threw it. It cut through the air, a ring of silver light in the darkness.
I saw the moment it made contact. There was another scream and then silence—just the sound of a heavy object dropping down onto sand.
The manticore’s head.
“I thought that would come in handy,” Skylar said, satisfaction lacing her tone.
She’d already saved my life once here tonight, when she’d told me to duck. Whether or not her choice of weapon had made a difference in this kill, she’d already made good on her word that having them there would make the difference between life and death for me.
“I’m glad,” Skylar said fiercely. “I’d do it again.”
Sometimes, I thought, sparing a smile for my small blonde friend, crazy’s all you’ve got.
“Come on,” I said, ready to put this night behind us. “Let’s get this done.”
We managed to close the space between us and the building without straying from the path. The tracker in me could see the places where wheels and feet had tread before—safe places, in this rotting minefield.
Or at least, as safe as any place inside these gates could be.
How does the government not know about this place? I wondered. The simplest answer was probably that they did—or that they’d chosen not to. I consciously sidestepped that thought as we came up to the door. I was on the verge of kicking it in when it opened, and I found myself inches away from the one kind of adversary about whom my instincts had absolutely nothing to say.
Humans.
Even in the dim light of the evening, I recognized Rena’s lackeys from the school, and they recognized me. The fact that I was walking around when they’d left me for dead on the side of the road seemed like the kind of thing their type would take as an insult, but their faces remained completely impassive.
They didn’t draw their weapons.
They didn’t say a word.
They just waited.
That was when I noticed the light glow to the air.
“Fireflies,” Skylar said, thoroughly bewitched.
Not fireflies, I thought.
“Don’t look at it,” I ordered. Skylar smiled and tilted her head to the side. She walked right past me. I grabbed for her arm, but she pulled out of my grasp, following the tiny ball of light.
Beside me, I could feel Elliot and Bethany going slack, the tension melting out of their bodies as they took in the tiny dancing lights.
“They won’t remember a thing tomorrow,” one of the men in front of me commented. “Where they were, what happened … all they’ll remember are the lights.”
I cast my eyes downward, trying not to look directly at them myself.
Will-o’-the-wisps weren’t deadly. They didn’t feed on human flesh. They just confused people, led them off the path, made them feel like everything was all right, when it was anything but.
Even with my eyes cast downward, I could see Skylar tiptoeing farther and farther away.
“Skylar,” I said sharply, lifting my eyes to hers.
She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Pretty.”
I could feel the magic working its way into my system, but I shook it off.
I wasn’t safe.
These lights weren’t pretty.
I shouldn’t follow them….
“Well,” one of the men said. “Aren’t you going to help your friend?”
Turning your back on an enemy was always a mistake. Always. But Skylar was getting farther and farther away. Making a split-second decision, I turned and was halfway to her, my body blurring with inhuman speed, when one of the men I’d left behind drew his gun.
He took aim and fired.
Not at me.
Not at Skylar.
At her feet. I was fast, but the bullet was faster. It hit the dirt. I ran toward Skylar, ran toward her with everything I had, but my mind was still gummy from the will-o’-the-wisps, and the man in the suit had known exactly where to aim.
Undetonated mines.
I heard the explosion before I saw it. Flames lit up the night sky, and the force of it sent me flying backward—away from Skylar.
From what was left of her.
As I lay there on the ground, the smell of charred flesh told me that this time, Skylar wasn’t—couldn’t—be playing. Tears stung my eyes until the only thing I could see was the memory of her face the second before the mine detonated, the expression on her childlike features.
Bliss.
30
“Lay down your weapons, come with us, and no one else has to die.” The man’s voice was soulless and calm, as he aimed his gun at Elliot and Beth, and that was when I realized—
They’d killed Skylar to make a point. To make me malleable. To hurt me.
No.
Rage was a physical thing. It washed over my body until I was drowning in it, bubbled up from inside of me, like a volcano ready to explode. Inside and outside, hot and cold, it was everywhere, absolute.
I breathed it in, and I breathed it out. I swallowed the full force of it whole, because the alternative was giving into something else, that tiny voice in the back of my head that said that Skylar was …
No.
I tore my eyes away from the body that didn’t even look like her, not anymore, and I gave myself over to fury.
Blessed fury.
My eyes narrowed into slits. My fingers curled to claws. The man who’d killed Skylar must have sensed the danger, because he turned his gun from Bethany and Elliot to me.
I was on him in an instant.
He went down, hard, and his gun clattered down the hallway like a rock skipping across water. I could have snapped his neck like a twig, a Popsicle stick, a toothpick.
But I didn’t.
I straddled his body and backhanded him. I felt the crack of his cheekbone. I smelled his blood.
Beside us, his partner attempted to jab me with some sort of Taser. I reached back, grabbed him by the wrist and snapped it, angling the weapon back at his chest, his torso.
I smelled the scent of his charring flesh.
The second that Partner Guy went down, the lights in the air dissipated. Whatever I’d become, whatever I was on the verge of doing, even the will-o’-the-wisps seemed to know that now was the time to run.
I moved to toss the Taser to the side, but noticed a variety of controls across the bottom. Mechanically, I pressed each button. A blade popped out of the back end of the Taser. An alarm sounded.
And then, finally, the gate to the complex opened in the distance.
“Don’t—,” the man underneath me—still breathing, still alive, the way Skylar wouldn’t ever be again—said. “You’ll let them out.”
“You killed her,” I said, pinning him with my knees. “She never hurt anyone, and you killed her, just because you could.” I looked him in the eye and dug my needle-sharp thumbnails into the balls of his shoulders, tearing through flesh until I hit bone.