The Liberator dw-2 Read online

  He sounds like I did before I fell for Charlie.

  “We stayed in Peachville a few extra days for…” Valery’s eyes dart toward Charlie.

  “Right,” Kraven answers.

  I keep staring at Kraven’s shoulders, disappointed that I don’t see wings peeking above them. Do they come out of his back like they almost did for me? If so, how does that even happen?

  Kraven looks at each of us in turn, starting with me. His eyes linger on my face for a long while, like he’s considering what to say, if anything. After a moment, he moves to Charlie. “How are you?” he asks. His tone is so sincere that I decide I may not hate the guy. Not that I ever did, but I do have a serious case of wing envy. I mean, Max and I have been talking about this dude ever since That Night.

  Charlie nods, and I wrap my arm around her waist. Kraven studies my arm there, but I don’t remove it. If he has issues with PDA, his conservative ass can look elsewhere.

  Next, the dude in white moves to Aspen. He looks at her with disinterest. “The assignment?” he asks.

  Valery nods. “Yes. Her name’s Aspen.”

  Aspen tilts her chin up like she’s not about to be dismissed, but Kraven doesn’t notice; he’s already moved on to Blue. Not much to see there, he must decide, because he quickly steps away from Blue and closer to Max.

  “Why is he here?” Kraven asks. Though Cyborg Guy doesn’t show much emotion, even I can tell he’s pissed to find a collector among us.

  “He doesn’t work for them anymore. And he knows too much,” Valery says, stealing my line from earlier. “We were afraid the collectors would use him to learn information about Charlie.”

  “Can we trust him?” he asks.

  Max straightens. “You can trust me.”

  Kraven pushes his shoulder-length blond hair behind his ears. Then his gaze comes to a rest on Annabelle. Anna barely acknowledges him. Not at first, anyway. Not until his hands curl into fists and he says, “Another human?”

  Annabelle meets his glare and, God love her, cocks a hand on her hip. “And?” She does a little head bob, and I can’t help the laugh that bursts from my chest.

  Kraven continues to stare at Annabelle.

  He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t speak. He just stares.

  “Dude,” Annabelle says, breaking the silence, “you’re totally creeping me out.”

  Kraven finally looks at Valery, awaiting an explanation. “Same situation as Max,” Red says. “She knew too much.”

  “Why did she know too much? Him I understand.” Kraven jerks his head toward Max. “But her?”

  “Excuse me,” Annabelle says. “I don’t know how you liberators roll, but on earth we have friends. And Charlie? She’s the best I’ve got. So yeah, she told me about you guys. Get over it.”

  My breath catches. I always knew Annabelle had some balls, but I never knew they were gold plated.

  Kraven’s eyes rake over Annabelle.

  She stands her ground.

  Something passes over his face, unreadable. Then he strides away from us.

  Annabelle glances at Valery. “What’s up with Crazy Face?”

  The sound of Kraven’s voice crashes through the room. “Training starts at oh-seven-hundred. I suggest you get some sleep.”

  24

  Closer

  Valery guides us down several hallways and flights of stairs until I’m sure I could never get back to the great room. There are people at every turn—humans. I suspect they don’t know about liberators and collectors and sirens. It probably isn’t hard to find employees willing to leave questions unanswered as long as they’re offered an easy job with good pay, though it’s startling to know collectors aren’t the only ones engaging humans in our earthly endeavors.

  Red unlocks yet another door. “There’s a lounge room here,” she says, waving her arm. “And bedrooms that branch off of it.”

  I’m beginning to understand why they call this place the Hive. It’s a honeycomb of rooms, doors, and hallways, and probably serves to protect its inhabitants. “Hey, Red,” I say. “How are you guys so sure the collectors don’t know about this place?”

  She turns and faces me, her high heels tapping against the wood floors. “They probably do. No matter where we built, they would find it. So we did what we could and designed it so that only a few people would know their way around.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “So if someone breaks in, they’re more likely to get lost than cause trouble.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  Blue collapses onto a leather couch. I know the feeling; I’m exhausted, too. The rest of the lounge room is sprinkled with dilapidated chairs, oversized ottomans, and more couches. Nothing matches, but it all appears comfortable. I notice there aren’t any windows, and that I haven’t seen a single one since we stepped foot inside the house.

  As Annabelle and Charlie curl up on a love seat, I continue to drill Valery. “You said this place was created recently, but how recently?”

  Red shrugs. “I’m not really sure. I was given blueprints to memorize a few weeks ago and told a training facility was being constructed. I think it’s part of something…bigger.”

  “This place?” I ask.

  She nods.

  I think about what Blue said, that Big Guy has huge plans for me, and that Aspen is a test to see if I can be trusted. Could this house, the Hive, also be a part of this plan? If Valery thinks so, then I could believe it.

  “I’m going to bed,” Red announces. “I’ll wake you for training in the morning.” She glides toward the door. Click, click, click go her heels. Max follows behind her like a stray and Red pauses at the door. I watch Valery to see how she’ll react. Her eyes travel over his face, and then she leaves, but not before cocking her head in the direction of the hallway.

  Max bounds after her.

  After the couple makes their exit, I find a huge beanbag thingy and plunk down. The Styrofoam shells give a satisfying crackle as they settle around my oversized frame. Above my head is a single blinking string of multicolored Christmas lights. The liberators really go all out to celebrate JC’s b-day.

  Aspen is sitting next to Blue, and Annabelle and Charlie face them. With Valery gone, we all just kind of stare at one another. What do we say when we’ve never had a conversation without sirens trying to kill us?

  Blue cranes his neck to look at Aspen. “Dude.”

  Her eyebrow quirks upward. “Yes?”

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  Annabelle snorts, and Blue glances at her. “What?” he asks.

  She shifts next to Charlie, pulling one of her long legs beneath her. “That’s what you want to talk about right now? Not, where the hell are we? Or, Does this place have rabies? Or even, What is up with that freakazoid, Kraven?” Annabelle pulls her finger up. “No, no. Blue just wants to know about Aspen’s nunchuck skills.”

  “Um, I don’t own nunchucks,” Aspen says.

  Blue looks at her. “Maybe you should.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he presses.

  Aspen bites her bottom lip. “Lincoln.”

  Blue laughs. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”

  She sighs. “Not the president, asshole. My friend. His name is Lincoln. His dad is in the CIA or FBI or some crap like that. He taught him self-defense.” Aspen shrugs. “So then Lincoln taught me.”

  “It’d be a lot cooler if it’d been ole Abraham who taught you,” Annabelle says.

  Charlie laughs. We all look at her. “Am I not allowed to laugh?” she asks.

  Our hands suddenly become extremely interesting.

  “Come on,” Charlie adds. “It was a joke. Stop treating me like I’m an invalid.”

  Aspen stands up. “In that case, why don’t you get off your rear and do something?”

  I’m out of my seat in a flash. “Aspen,” I say, a note of warning in my voice.

  Aspen reaches her hand o
ut to Charlie. “I’m starving. Help me find something to eat, O Savior of the World.”

  My heart leaps when Charlie grins and takes Aspen’s hand. The two head toward the door like a pair of misfits.

  “You’re going to get lost,” Annabelle warns.

  Aspen doesn’t turn around. “So come with us.”

  Annabelle rolls her eyes. “Fine, but only because you’ll bring back crap food if I don’t.” She rises from the love seat and shoves herself between Aspen and Charlie so that she can be closer to her best friend—and maybe to remind Aspen that Charlie already has a best friend.

  I glance at Blue. He sighs and then gets up to follow them.

  “You, too?” I say.

  Blue shrugs. “You want to try and convince them not to leave? Go for it. Otherwise, we might as well make sure they get back okay.”

  Annabelle and Aspen whip around together.

  “Like we need your help,” one says.

  “Just stay here,” the other barks.

  You’d think Annabelle and Aspen would get along a little better considering they both scare the crap out of me.

  Blue and I trail after the girls, and exactly forty-seven minutes later, we make it back to our room with stomachs full of junk food. Annabelle punches a victorious arm into the air and tells us to eat it, even though she got us more lost than anyone. After making a big show of yawning, she and Blue wander off to bed, her through one door and him through another. Aspen looks at Charlie and me for a moment after they leave.

  “It’s good you two have each other,” she says. Then she leaves the room in search of sleep.

  Charlie glances up at me. “I like her.”

  “You like everyone.”

  “Do not,” she rebuts, grinning.

  My black heart sings, seeing her smiling and eating and playing normally, but I know she’s far from happy. And realizing how hard this day has been for her tears me up inside. I run my thumbs over the side of her cheeks and step closer. “How are you doing?”

  Her gaze falls.

  Instead of pushing for an answer, I take her hand and guide her toward a door in the far corner. Together, we spill into a small room with humble furniture: a queen-sized bed with a patchwork blanket, an oak nightstand, and a cushioned bench. I spot another door and assume it’s a bathroom; probably one we’ll share with Annabelle who’s one room over.

  Charlie lets go of my hand and climbs into bed. Her hair falls over her neck, which I know bugs her. At one point, she reaches up to nudge her glasses like she sometimes does. But the glasses aren’t there anymore post makeover. Still, I find the gesture reassuring, like the Charlie I fell for, the girl who wore bad glasses and purple jeans, is still in there.

  The bed groans as I lie down next to her, and I brush the hair from her neck. I lean down and kiss the bare spot. I don’t expect Charlie to respond, not after what she’s been through today. But I want her to know she’s not alone, and that I’ll be here to kiss any wound that needs healing.

  “Your birthday is coming up,” I whisper near her ear. “I’m going to do something amazing for you.” I’m not sure why I bring this up, maybe to remind her that there are days to look forward to. And that no matter how chaotic things become, I’ll fight to ensure she retains some normalcy.

  Charlie curls into a tight ball. “I just want her back.”

  Hearing the pain in her voice, I’ve never felt so useless. I will take out any siren who tries to harm her. I will fight my way into hell to reclaim her soul. I will risk my life and everything I have to keep her safe.

  But I don’t know how to protect her from this.

  Charlie drops her shoulder back so we’re facing each other. Then she reaches up and cups her hand around the back of my neck.

  Our lips connect.

  She pulls my body nearer, and warmth wraps itself around us. My hand slides from her arm, to her hip, my fingers taking in every rise and valley of her silhouette. Slipping my leg between her knees, I tug her against me. Charlie’s palms skim up the back of my shirt. Her fingers dig into the muscle beneath my dragon ink. Deep in my gut, a primal instinct awakens. I didn’t expect this from her. But I understand it. She needs me close, close enough to remind her she’s alive and that she won’t lose someone else she cares about.

  This is something I can do.

  As her fingers swim through my hair, I move on top of her. I reach down, hook my arm beneath her knee, and press down. Her mouth comes away from mine, and she trails her lips down my neck to the place between my collarbones. She moves to my ear and nibbles. The sensation drives me absolutely bat shit. Before I can think, I’m tugging our clothes off.

  Charlie buries her head in my neck and pulls me tight, tight enough to lose herself in this moment. Our stomachs press together, and her skin feels like silk beneath me. Sliding my hands beneath her back, I curl my fingers around her shoulders.

  And then I’m the one pulling her closer.

  Closer.

  25

  Defense

  I wake to the sensation of being watched. When I glance at the foot of the bed and realize it’s not my imagination, I spring to my feet.

  Two women stand shoulder to shoulder, outfitted in brown knee-length dresses. They don’t speak; they just stare.

  Charlie stirs from the bed, and I rush to shield her with my body.

  “What are you doing?” she says from beneath me, her voice muffled.

  “Charlie,” I say, “there are two chicks with bad fashion sense standing in our room.

  She whips her head around and gazes over my torso at them. “Hello.”

  The women turn and leave in unison.

  I glance down at Charlie. “Well, if that wasn’t the freakiest crap I’ve ever seen, then my name isn’t Dante Walker.”

  She gives a half-hearted smile. “Is that your name? I’d forgotten.”

  I’m tempted to tickle the life out of her, but instead decide I’d better address the stalkers in the lounge area. After climbing from the bed, I find my jeans and tug them on, keeping an eye on the open doorway. From outside, I can hear Blue speaking. His voice sounds casual, like we’re all just hanging out at a beach house on vacay.

  When I slip outside the bedroom, I find Aspen and Annabelle sitting on the floor, their legs stretched beneath a coffee table. In front of each of them is a plate with the World’s Largest Omelet.

  Aspen stuffs another bite into her mouth before she sees me. “Protein,” she says around her food. “Because we’re training today.”

  I don’t tell her that I doubt she’s training today, even though they should totally let her, since she’s important and all. I’m more relieved she’s speaking to me at all. Instead, I focus on the two women who stand near a wall, their arms loose at their sides.

  Looking at Blue, I ask, “What’s with the robots?”

  He shakes his head, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. They have cuffs, though.” I glance at the women’s ankles and see he’s right. “I’m not eating that stuff,” he says. “Not until Valery says it’s safe.”

  My gaze moves from Blue to a plate in front of him. I shrug as I pick it up and settle down on a yellow chair, fork at the ready. “Pussy.”

  Charlie makes an appearance in the doorway. Her hair is disheveled, and her eyes dance around the room. She almost looks guilty.

  Blue stops what he’s doing and studies her. His narrowed eyes narrow farther, and his mouth tightens into a thin line. Then he glares at me. His stare blazes like actual fire, and I do the thing where I pretend not to notice him watching.

  One of the women carries a plate to Charlie.

  “Oh, thanks,” she mumbles. “Have you eaten already?”

  The woman glances nervously at the other lady behind her. Then she turns back to Charlie and nods once.

  I’m halfway through my omelet when Valery strides into the room. “It’s time to go. Annabelle, Aspen, you two will stay here. The rest of you can follow me.”

  “
Bunch of bullshit,” Annabelle says.

  “Over my dead body,” Aspen clips.

  The two girls glance at each other. They seem to realize they’ve been agreeing on a lot lately but aren’t ready to admit it to themselves.

  Blue, Charlie, and I follow Valery through the maze. Even after sneaking around the place last night, I have no idea where we are. A man and two young girls, all with blue dishes in their hands, pass by us. They pretend we aren’t even there, so I return the favor and keep walking.

  After a few minutes—and mere moments before I scream from claustrophobia—we spill into an enormous room. Well, maybe enormous is an overstatement, but the room does look huge.

  Walking toward the farthest wall, I understand why. The entire back area is one solid sheet of glass. Beyond it, the ocean spreads out like a blanket. I can hardly see the cliff’s edge from up here, and the effect makes it seem as if I’m floating on water.

  “Line up,” someone orders.

  Kraven appears through a doorway, dressed all in white again. I wonder if the dude owns stock in Clorox. I head toward the back of the room, stepping over spongy mats as I move. Blue and Charlie stand on either side of me, and the three of us wait to see what Mr. Clean has to say.

  He glides across the room, and with the ocean behind him, he looks a lot like Jesus—walking on water and crap. I resist telling him this.

  And Valery says I don’t know how to behave.

  Kraven’s chest inflates. “At the Hive, there are six sectors of training you must complete. Failure to pass even one sector means losing your status as a liberator.”

  My head whips toward Valery. Her eyebrows knit together like this is news to her.

  I raise my hand like a respectful pupil. “Uh, excuse me. You’re telling me if we flunk out of Hive school, we’ll have our cuff removed?”

  Kraven continues, dismissing my question. “In the first sector, we’ll cover self-defense. You’ll have three days to master basic skills, and at the end of those three days, you’ll be administered a test.”