“You and me both.” I started walking toward my car.
“If I agree, does that make me a bad person?” James asked.
“No,” Zoe and I said at the same time.
Walking ahead, Zoe looked over her shoulder to where April and Brandon had disappeared. She shook her head. “I’m worried, though.”
I stopped in front of my car as James handed my camera back to me. “About?”
Zoe exhaled heavily as her gaze flicked between James and me. “I’m worried they’re eventually going to do something really stupid … and really dangerous.”10I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air as I scratched at my throat, searching for the fingers I could still feel digging into my skin.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
Drawing in deep, shuddering breaths, I forced my hands away from my neck. No one was here choking me. It was a nightmare. I knew this, but I still shoved the blanket down my legs and scrambled to my knees, heart thundering against my ribs as I scanned the bedroom.
Moonlight seeped under the curtains and traveled across the floor and along the foot of the bed. I scanned the familiar bookshelves and heaps of clothing. The TV placed on the dresser, left on but turned down low because I’d been having a hard time falling asleep without the light, flickered from one blood-splattered crime scene to the next.
Forensic Files.
I really needed to stop falling asleep with that playing, though I found the dude who narrated the show to have an oddly relaxing voice.
The door to my room was still closed, as was the bedroom window, both locked even though I knew there were a lot of creatures out there that locks couldn’t keep out.
But it was just a nightmare.
I knew this, but I still flipped on the lamp that sat atop the nightstand. I saw Diesel the rock smiling at me.
Sliding off the bed, I darted into the bathroom, hitting the switch on the wall. Bright light poured into the narrow space as I lifted my shirt with trembling hands.
My stomach was bare of scratches or bruises, just like the rational, logical part of my brain said it would be. I was okay. I would be okay. Micah was dead, and I was—
I didn’t know who I was.
Nausea twisted sharply in my stomach, bringing me to my knees with a harsh grunt. Grasping the cool, porcelain base of the toilet, I lost everything I’d eaten the night before. Tears sprang from the corners of my eyes as my throat and chest burned with the force of the tremors racking my body. The retching sickness came on fast and powerfully, ending in painful dry heaves until all the muscles went loose and my body gave out.
I found myself lying sideways on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, curled tightly, trembling as I squeezed my eyes shut. I pressed my lips together and counted each breath I inhaled through my nose. I had no idea how much time passed. Five minutes? Ten? Longer? Slowly, I unfurled my legs and shifted onto my back, opening my eyes to stare dully at the ceiling.
I’d heard his voice in the nightmare. Micah’s. He’d been ranting about Luc and warning us that everything was already over, just like he’d done in the woods.
Neither Luc nor I had any idea of what he was talking about, but those words were like ghosts lingering in the recesses of my mind. Had he actually been trying to tell us something, or were they just the words of someone who wanted to cause as much pain and terror as possible before dying?
I wanted to hate Micah, and I did, but I also felt … God, I also felt pity for him, and I didn’t like the stuffy, ugly feeling that pity left behind. It stained my skin like an oil slick. I hated him for that and for what he’d forced Luc to do—to kill him. I knew that haunted Luc, because he’d felt responsible for Micah, for all those Origins. I despised Micah for how he’d hurt and terrorized me.
Micah had been a murderer, but he had also been a victim. Created in a lab, he was bred from a Luxen and a hybrid to be the perfect human—the perfect soldier. Given God knows what kind of drugs, Micah might’ve looked to be my age, but he was only ten years old. He might’ve been extremely intelligent and extraordinarily manipulative, but he was also just a child who’d needed to feel wanted and had felt abandoned and betrayed by Luc.
I hated him, but I still pitied him. I felt bad for all those kids Luc had to … take care of because they had turned bad.
But Micah was definitely dead, and I was lying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night.