“I can’t believe— Of course you don’t see the problem,” Max says, grabbing a fistful of his own hair. He’s shaking his head. “You never see the problem.”
“That seems an unfair accusation.”
“Paris, there’s a reason why most Unnaturals only have one ability.” He’s beginning to pace now. “The occurrence of two supernatural gifts in the same person is exceedingly rare.”
“What about Ibrahim’s girl?” he says. “Wasn’t that your work? Evie’s?”
“No,” Max says forcefully. “That was a random, natural error. We were just as surprised by the discovery as anyone else.”
Anderson goes suddenly solid with tension. “What, exactly, is the problem?”
“It’s not—”
A sudden blare of sirens and the words die in Max’s throat. “Not again,” he whispers. “God, not again.”
Anderson spares me a single glance before he disappears into his room, and this time, he reappears fully assembled. Not a hair out of place. He checks the cartridge of a handgun before he tucks it away, in a hidden holster.
“Juliette,” he says sharply.
“Yes, sir?”
“I am ordering you to remain here. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, you are not to leave this room. You are to do nothing unless I command you otherwise. Do you understand? “
“Yes, sir.”
“Max, get her something to wear,” Anderson barks. “And then keep her hidden. Guard her with your life.”
KENJI
This was the plan:
We were all supposed to go invisible—Warner borrowing his power from me and Nazeera—and jump out of the plane just before it landed. Nazeera would then activate her flying powers, and with Warner bolstering her power, the three of us would bypass the welcoming committee intent on murdering us. We’d then make our way directly into the heart of the vast compound, where we’d begin our search for Juliette.
This is what actually happens:
All three of us go invisible and jump out of the plane as it lands. That part worked. The thing we weren’t expecting, of course, was for the welcoming/murdering committee to so thoroughly anticipate our moves.
We’re up in the air, flying over the heads of at least two dozen highly armed soldiers and one dude who looks like he might be Nazeera’s dad, when someone flashes some kind of long-barreled gun up, into the sky. He seems to be searching for something.
Us.
“He’s scanning for heat signatures,” Warner says.
“I realize that,” Nazeera says, sounding frustrated. She picks up speed, but it doesn’t matter.
Seconds later, the guy with the heat gun shouts something to someone else, who aims a different weapon at us, one that immediately disables our powers.
It’s just as horrifying as it sounds.
I don’t even have a chance to scream. I don’t have time to think about the fact that my heart is racing a mile a minute, or that my hands are shaking, or that Nazeera—fearless, invulnerable Nazeera—looks suddenly terrified as the sky falls out from under her. Even Warner seems stunned.
I was already super freaked out about the idea of being shot out of the sky again, but I can honestly say that I wasn’t mentally prepared for this. This is a whole new level of terror. The three of us are suddenly visible and spiraling to our deaths and the soldiers below are just staring at us, waiting.
For what? I think.
Why are they just staring at us as we die? Why go to all the trouble to take over our plane and land us here, safely, just to watch us fall out of the sky?
Do they find this entertaining?
Time feels strange. Infinite and nonexistent. Wind is rushing up against my feet, and all I can see is the ground, coming at us too fast, but I can’t stop thinking about how, in all my nightmares, I never thought I’d die like this. I never thought I’d die because of gravity. I didn’t think that this was the way I was destined to exit the world, and it seems wrong, and it seems unfair, and I’m thinking about how quickly we failed, how we never stood a chance— when I hear a sudden explosion.
A flash of fire, discordant cries, the faraway sounds of Warner shouting, and then I’m no longer falling, no longer visible.
It all happens so fast I feel dizzy.
Nazeera’s arm is wrapped around me and she’s hauling me upward, struggling a bit, and then Warner materializes beside me, helping to prop me up. His sharp voice and familiar presence are my only proof of his existence.