Villain (Gone 8)

Forte was sure that the chimera was dragging them deeper and deeper. The boat would never float again, it no longer had even the theoretical ability to float again. Which meant they were all dead. It was just a matter of time.

But Forte knew what to do. It wouldn’t even be a real act of self-sacrifice, not really, because she was a dead woman walking.

And she’d be damned if she let some monster do this to her boat, her people, and her. She knew what would kill the chimera.

She had access to weapons that would kill anything.

CHAPTER 25

Random Chance

“WHY DO YOU just play solitaire?”

Malik looked up slowly. A girl. Did he know her? Sure. Sure, Shade or someone had introduced her.

“It’s a very . . . philosophical game,” Malik said.

“It is?” Francis asked.

Malik nodded. “Yes. Each game reflects the reality of human life. I bring the intelligence DNA gave me. I use my experience. I apply my free will. And the cards are sorted by random chance. In fact, the odds of any hand of solitaire ever having been played are trillions to one. Each hand is a completely new set of possibilities. DNA, environment, free will, and . . . chance.”

Is it like that for you, too, Dark ones? Do you have DNA? Are you shaped by experience?

All the while he played on. His 2,309th game. He held the phone in both hands, almost at arm’s length, thumbs tapping. He had a streak going, six winning games.

“Ah, okay,” Francis Specter said, and nodded.

Are you bored watching me play game after game?

“I’m Francis.”

Malik saw her hand extended. It hovered in the air. He looked at it, trying to figure out what it meant. Then it came to him, almost as muscle memory, and he reached out and shook the hand.

“Malik Tenerife,” he said.

“Cruz said that you can . . .”

“Cause pain,” Malik said quickly. “Yes.”

Your gift to me, eh? A life of living under your eyes, with you in my head, and the only escape is into agony and death.

“Yeah. This is all so weird, isn’t it?”

Malik said nothing.

“The thing I can do . . . you know, my power—which just sounds crazy, doesn’t it? My power?”

You don’t like her, do you? You don’t want me talking to her.

“What is your power?” Malik asked. He wasn’t feeling especially curious. More he was curious about this vague feeling that they didn’t like Francis.

Francis shrugged and looked at the seat beside Malik. Malik looked at the seat beside him as well, slowly trying to guess the significance and . . . Oh, of course. “Want to sit?”

She did.

“I’ve never been in a real fight before,” she said. She twisted her fingers. She was afraid.

“I was,” Malik said. Then, with a hint of his old, dry humor, added, “It didn’t go well for me.”