I will go home, and I will see Annie when they let me, and I will do whatever they say because I am not a person. Not anymore. James was my one hope for something more, but he was always, always a Keane.
Still, I will protect Annie. She is the only person in the world who loves me. She is the only person in the world who would never use me. She is my anchor, the chain around my ankle, the thing that means it doesn’t matter what James does or who he is—I will still be his because I will always be Annie’s.
ANNIE
Tuesday Afternoon
“WHO WAS THAT?” I ASK, POUNDING ON THE DOOR to my bedroom. How dare James lock me out of my own room to talk on the phone. I lean my ear close, trying to hear. “Was it Fia? Is she okay?”
He opens the door and I almost fall forward. He catches me, then leaves me standing there. I hear him opening and slamming drawers.
“What are you doing? Get out of my stuff!”
“You’re coming with us to get Fia.”
“She’s okay.” I slump against the doorframe with relief.
“For now. Either she already got away or she can at any time. Which you cannot tell anyone. The story is she’s escaping tomorrow and coming right back. No one can know she thought about leaving forever. If they think they can’t control her anymore through you, they have other plans. I won’t let them do those things to her. We have to make them think she never even considered not coming back.” He stops, swears. “You’re useless around Readers. I’ll have to leave Doris here and bring Eden. I’ll tell them I’m taking you in case you have any more visions.”
She’s okay. She’s okay. Then…why bring her back? “If she’s okay, can’t we—can’t we just not find her? Please.”
“That isn’t an option. She knows it. You should, too.”
Every part of me is heavy and tired. All the times I’ve tried to help Fia, protect her, I’ve failed. And the one time I went further than that, tried to protect more than us, all it did was backfire and push Fia further away. Adam is still alive and those women will still be found and destroyed. I thought I was doing something important for once, changing something for the better.
Maybe I can help in St. Louis. Maybe I’ll see something and be able to use it. Maybe this will finally be our chance, being together far from here.
“Why are you bringing me?” I ask, suddenly suspicious. “Am I some sort of bait to force Fia back? I won’t do it. If you take me in public, I’ll scream bloody murder. I will not ruin her chance to be free.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” He zips up a bag, then pushes past me. “I don’t want to bring you any more than you want to come. But Fia said she would only meet me if she could see you with us.”
“Then I’m not coming.” I stand straighter, triumphant. If the only way I can be there for my sister is by not being there, then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t care what they do to me. I’ll figure out how to get away on my own, if I know that Fia is free.
“I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. “I need to be in St. Louis in case she calls again.” My front door opens, and he shouts for Darren. I run into my room, lock it, then barricade myself in my closet. I won’t. I won’t go.
The pounding starts on the bedroom door, and I brace my feet against the closet. Then it’s light, and I’m outside.
The air is heavy with humidity, the spring day almost oppressively warm. Everything has a sleepy, thick feel to it; even the buzz of a lawn mower nearby is muffled. I look and see two girls, the same height, their hair the same color. One is beautiful, her face haunted and innocent at the same time. The other is me.
I am seeing myself again.
We’re next to some strange building, the narrow wall brilliant silver and going straight up into the sky. Green grass surrounds it and people who aren’t in focus pass around us, not connected to us, not noticing us. I can’t see anyone I recognize, but I know—I can feel—that we are being watched. Fia puts her hands out and takes mine. She’s holding my hands!
She looks awful. She’s in a black shirt that’s too big for her, there’s a bruise forming on one cheek, and she has nasty cuts on her arms. I look absolutely terrified.
“Fia,” I say. My voice sounds strange, foreign. Like I am barely squeezing it out. “I’m so sorry. For everything. But it’s okay. I understand.” I smile and, though tears are streaming down my face, I keep smiling.
“Annie,” she whispers. “It’s the only way. I can’t protect you anymore, and we can never be free. Not together. I’m so sorry, but it’s the only way.” She lets go of my hands; I keep them in fists at my side. Then Fia leans forward and kisses my forehead. She pulls out a knife that gleams as brilliant silver as the building. It glints in the sun as she holds it at her side. “I love you. I love you, but I need you to be dead. You have to be dead.”
She brings the knife between us, and all I can see is our bodies, the knife somewhere in the middle, and her other arm behind me like she is hugging me. Then she steps back and the knife is red, so red, and I drop to the ground, my hands on my stomach.
I don’t move.
I’m not moving.
Fia holds out the silver-red knife, looks down at it. “Good-bye, Annie. I lo
ve you.” Then she turns and walks away.