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Gaia's emotions began to diverge into a chaotic heap, pulling her head in so many directions that it felt like a massive tug-of-war inside her skull. On the one hand, there was the
rush.
The rush of fear. It was enormous and palpable. The rush of feeling
real,
feeling
totally, 100 percent
human.
Not to mention the glorious and perfect sense of beginning something. Something truly new. Something she had been dreaming about and hopelessly praying for year after year.

But on the other hand. . . there was the why—the
reason
that these delicious new symptoms were taking control of her body. She knew those giggles. She knew them far too well. She knew them so well that her shoulders had recognized them even before she had.

Them.
The freakish skinheads from hell. Those were their giggles. The sound was unmistakable. And now Gaia was a sitting duck right in the middle of their little trap. And her mind had suddenly turned to one very essential question: Just what would these “wonderful” new symptoms do to her fighting skills? How would they affect her defenses? What was it like to fight when your body and a huge portion of your brain were begging you to run? Not just begging, but
ordering.
Her entire being was ordering her to hit the road, here and now, before any of those psychotic assholes took another step toward her.

But she had left herself with no more time to think about it, no more time to wonder. Because they had already rolled out of the bushes and begun to converge on her bench with the same wild-eyed vengeance that she'd seen the last time. The test had already begun. And she already despised the results.

Move, goddamn it, move.

“We've got her all to ourselves this time!” one of them howled. Gaia recognized him immediately. The swastika earring dangling from his left ear, the huge gash on his arm that he'd inflicted all by himself.

His first knife swipe cut off a swatch of her hair, and another set of brand-new symptoms erupted. A gasp fell from her lips. Shivers shot through each of her legs, making them wobbly and unsure. She couldn't even take the time to see how many of them there were because her eyes were darting in all directions from panic. Fights had always seemed like slow motion to Gaia. There had always been plenty of time to plan, to organize, to concentrate. Now it was just the opposite. Everything felt sped up. Too fast to keep track of anything, no time to focus on anything other than her pathetically wobbly legs.

And now there was a new voice screaming in her head. A voice she had never heard before. And its message was simple.

You're dead. Jesus Christ, you are going to die here tonight. There is no doubt about it. You don't have a chance in hell.

She was learning. She was learning fast. A new lesson every second. Fear and pessimism. . . they were somehow connected. She had to keep reminding herself what she was capable of. Because she kept forgetting. The closer their knives got, the more she seemed to forget her ability to dodge them—to do a hell of a
lot more than dodge them. For Christ's sake, she was still the same
person
—wasn't she?

She rocketed through three quick forward rolls just to buy herself a little time, a little distance. But they were closing in so fast.

“Feel the power, bitch!” They were chanting it over and over. “Feel the power of God!”

“I'm gonna mark this bitch with an X!” one of them howled. “I'm gonna scratch a big fat
X
right through this bitch's back!”

The mob howled their support as they all gave in to fits of giddy laughter, storming toward her with their knives outstretched.

Focus, goddamn it! Please, Gaia. Focus.

Latest lesson: Fear could leave a girl actually pleading with herself.

The knife nearly cut her chest straight down the middle, but she managed to grab her assailant's wrist first, twisting his arm straight out of its socket and then flipping him flat on his back. But the next knife was already coming down from the left.

“No!” Gaia screamed. It had just flown out of her mouth—this totally involuntary plea for her life.

She crammed her knee sharply into his groin and then snapped a hard back kick to his jaw that flattened him out. But she was already out of juice, and she could feel it.

Lesson number six: Fear saps every ounce of energy that you should have had on reserve.

And so she began to back away as they advanced. She
had
to or she was dead. A backward roll and another backward roll.

“Oh, man, look at the Gaia bitch!” the leader cackled. “Look who's afraid now. We are freaking supermen, and look who's turned into a plain old girlie bitch.”

“X!”
that asshole howled again. “I gotta have it. I've gotta see a bloody
X
on this bitch.” He started to pick up speed, driving toward her. But Gaia didn't have it in her to take him down. Not anymore. No way. She'd make a mistake now—she'd screw it up, she was sure of it. So she did all she had left in her to do. She dove fast and hard into the bushes, landing on her hands and knees in the brush and searching for a safe place to hide.

“Oh, man, come
on.
” The
X
man laughed. “It's gonna be like
that
now?”

She crawled through the bushes, gasping for air. Their laughter only grew louder and louder as they stomped around on all sides, trying to spot her. She dropped flat to the ground with her face nearly in the dirt and tried to catch her breath and make a plan. What the hell was she going to do now? She was exhausted, disoriented, and freaked out of her mind. How the hell was she going to take out the
X
man before he took her out? There was no way. There was no way she could do it.

And then, quite suddenly, with her nose stuck in
the dirt and the sweat pouring down her face, Gaia had an epiphany. An honest-to-God revelation.

She didn't have to do this anymore.

She was just a girl now. Just a normal, fearful, real live girl. She didn't want to fight anymore. That was the entire point. Her entire fearless life had boiled down to fight after fight after fight. It had been all she had. It had been the only thing that gave her any pleasure. But that was all going to change now. Let the NYPD deal with the
X
man. That's what they were here for: to protect the normal everyday citizens like Gaia Moore.

The
X
man was no longer her responsibility. She was not responsible for every two-bit scumbag and drugged-out skinhead in New York City. She was out. She was finally out. Out of the fighting game. Out of the vigilante justice game. She was free. Free to fall in love and have a relationship and a family like everybody else. Free to run for her goddamn life. Just like everybody else.

And that was just what she did. She took off with every ounce of strength and speed she had in her. She ran for her life. The life that she was finally starting to believe she could have.

And as she stomped her way up the steps of the boardinghouse and found her way to her bed, Gaia knew that she would always remember this night. She'd remember it as the night that new Gaia was officially born.

Averted Eyes

IT WAS MAGIC. THERE WAS NO
other way to put it.

A beautiful, magical New York morning. The air was sparkling clear. The busy street was filled with hurrying pedestrians and honking taxicabs and huge delivery trucks and all the wonderful bits and pieces of Manhattan life.

Gaia walked toward school, transported. She felt wonderful. There was no other way to put it. The feeling running through her was like an electric current—it reminded her of being a little girl, when her mother was alive. That special feeling of being a young child, of wanting to burst into song or start running or skipping for no reason except that you felt like it.

I'm normal,
she told herself.
I'm complete.

Gaia crossed Sixth Avenue and made her way east toward the Village School. The blue sky was as clear and bright as a picture postcard. Gaia wanted to stop and greet everyone she saw and thank them for being part of her wonderful morning.

She had fear.

It was like a missing musical note had been added, and now the symphony was complete.
This
was what it was like for everyone else. She still remembered the exquisite sensation the night before when those assholes had attacked. That incredible, terrible moment
when she'd realized that she was
afraid.
The pain of the fear had been like a spice added to the joy she'd felt.

Gaia turned the last street corner and saw the front of the Village School. The crowd in front of the place seemed unusually light, but then, she was early. She was actually early to school—imagine that.

Gaia had surprised the hell out of Suko that morning. She'd woken up early, showered and dressed, and then practically galloped downstairs. She'd had breakfast at Collingwood rather than just buying a bagel on her way to school. Philip had been delighted, serving her eggs and coffee with great flourishes.

And now here she was, at school—and Gaia knew exactly what she was going to do.

She was going to walk into the building. Then she was going to play her new game—the game where she tried to pick Jake out of the crowd.

The dark hair: check. The smooth olive skin: check. And step three—the confident swagger. She was going to walk right up to him and grab his shoulder, and when he turned around, she was going to kiss him full on the lips, right there in front of everyone. And then she was going to hug him as hard as she could and murmur into his ear that she was sorry, so sorry, so terribly sorry that she'd been so difficult. . . but that all of that was over now. Everything had changed for her. . . and for them.

Gaia was sure of it. It was all different, in the best
possible way. Now,
finally,
she could have that talk with Jake. She
wanted
to have that talk. She wanted him to ask lots of questions so that she could say yes to each of them and watch his face as she did it.

She couldn't wait.

Gaia bashed through the front door of the school, practically singing with excitement. She was looking for anyone she knew. Especially Chris. So she could make a point of thanking him for what he'd done for her.

Her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness as the big doors swung shut behind her. It was strange: she'd been expecting to hear the usual dull roar of high school voices, the sound tumbling toward her, assaulting her eardrums as it did every morning.

But she didn't hear anything.

It was like walking into a library or a church.

Now Gaia's eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness, and she realized something else.

Nobody was moving.

There were students and teachers. . . and they were all standing there. Not moving. Not speaking. Not doing anything. . . just standing there. Even the people she didn't know, had never spoken to.

Looking at Gaia.

That wasn't quite it. They were gazing at her and then quickly looking away. As if they couldn't bring themselves to make eye contact.

What. . . ?

Gaia was confused. It was like a dream, one of those dreams where you enter a familiar place and somehow it's become strange.

Gaia walked forward into the school. The few people in the lobby kept avoiding her gaze.

What's going on? What is this?

Unless Gaia was mistaken, the averted eyes weren't random. It was her, specifically. It really seemed like there was something about Gaia Moore that made them not want to look.

And Gaia was scared.

There was nothing remotely pleasurable about it. Not this time. There was no novelty, no delighted surprise. Just. . . this feeling. This terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that spread like a cold, dark shadow across her body. It made her feel weak. It made her feel sick.

It was fear.

And it was bad.
Can I change my mind?
Gaia thought for a second. Just for a second, but she was aware of having the thought. Walking like a ghost through the school lobby as everyone in the room stood by the lockers and avoided her eyes, Gaia wondered if maybe she had made some kind of mistake. . . if maybe, just maybe, she could take it back.

I want to wake up,
Gaia thought crazily. She knew she wasn't sleeping, but nevertheless, that was how she felt.
Okay, I want to wake up now. This isn't funny. I want things back the way they're supposed to be.

And then she saw him.

Thick dark hair. Olive skin.

Jake.

He saw her at the same time. And she couldn't believe what she saw in his face.

Jake looked terrible. He looked awful.

All of them,
Gaia realized, looking around at all the silent people who wouldn't look back at them.
They all look bad.

Jake came toward her and she thought the stricken look on his face would break her heart. Her fear was so intense that it nearly made her faint. She didn't feel like she was starting a great new life. She felt like she was trapped in some kind of bad dream she didn't understand.

Jake grabbed her and hugged her hard.

Gaia felt a hand on her shoulder. She pulled away from Jake, and looked over. . . and saw Tannie Deegan.

Tannie was crying. And holding Gaia's shoulder like she was drowning.

“What. . . ?” Gaia could barely make her throat work. The fear was paralyzing, stupefying. She managed to clear her throat and try again. She stared up at Jake's solemn face. “What is it? What happened?”

And when Jake replied, the next two words went through Gaia like a spear.

“It's Ed,” Jake rasped. “Ed Fargo. Ed and Kai.”