The Decaying Empire (The Vanishing Girl Series Book 2) (3 page)

I lunged for a trophy perched on a nearby shelf. Behind me I heard someone pounding on the door. Ignoring the noise, I grabbed the trophy and threw it at her.

The marble base clipped her injured wrist. She let out a shriek and dropped the knife to cradle it.

A lethal mistake on her part.

I spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to the side of her head.

She stumbled, then fell to the floor. Following her down, I began to rain blows on her face. Each one seemed to fuel the next. I was drowning in rage, sinking and sinking. I wanted my pound of flesh.

The door began to shake. It wouldn’t hold up for much longer, but then again, I wouldn’t be here for much longer either. The distraction was enough to pull me in from the edge and halt my attack. I leaned back on my haunches, breathing heavily. Below me Desiree moaned, her face swollen and bloody.

“I should kill you,” I said, staring down at her. “I
want
to kill you.”

Desiree made a small noise.

I stood, never taking my eyes off her. The pounding on the door sounded like a drumroll. “Cross me again, and I’ll finish this.” I brought my foot back and kicked her in the head, knocking her out.

The door shook, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of a key being inserted in the slot.

I looked myself over. My knuckles were split, my arm slashed, and there were droplets of blood splattered over my dress.

I was fairly certain none of the cuts were deep enough to cause splicing, but my body was a stranger to me. If I could now teleport while lucid, I didn’t know what other rules my body was capable of breaking.

The door swung open, and Dane stood on the other side. Just to his side Caden took in the scene. When his eyes met mine, he took a step forward, horror written across his features.
Ember,
he mouthed.

Behind them I could make out a few curious teleporters whose eyes went wide when they saw me.

As soon as Dane registered the situation, he reached for the gun at his side. “Hands up!” he shouted.

“No!” Caden tried to push forward, panic-stricken. Dane put a hand out to stop him. “Fuck this, Dane. It’s
Ember
.”

I closed my eyes. Rage still flowed through me, but Caden tempered it somewhat. His presence grounded me.

“I said, put your hands up!” That voice. My rage redoubled, making the hair on my arms stand up.

Now seemed like the wrong time to concede to him. Not when he’d almost killed me once. I’d only gotten a taste of this second life.

I opened my eyes slowly and stared down the barrel of his gun. My gaze moved from it to him. I don’t know what he saw in my eyes—anger, confusion, or something more nihilistic—but he flinched at the sight.

And then I vanished.

Dane exhaled as soon as Ember left. He holstered his gun as Caden pressed in next to him. Figured that Ember Pierce would wreak havoc the moment she was revived.

Dane’s eyes fell upon Desiree. Her face was swollen and discolored. Ember had done quite a workup on the girl. “Get a nurse,” Dane called over his shoulder. “Let them know we’re going to need a stretcher.”

Dane crouched next to a moaning Desiree.

“She knew,” Desiree breathed.

Dane rubbed his face and nodded. He’d figured as much when he saw that blue dress. Didn’t matter—in fact, it might facilitate his plans.

Caden brushed by him. Dane heard the whistle of air that passed through Caden’s teeth when he saw Desiree up close. He took a step back at the sight. A cocktail of emotions played along his face—confusion, disbelief,
anguish
.

Two nurses entered the room, wheeling a cart along with them. He’d have to save questioning Desiree for later.

“Everyone save for soldiers and staff, clear the area,” Dane announced. Teleporters began to disperse, but Caden lingered.

“Caden, that means you too,” Dane said, stepping aside so that the nurses could maneuver the stretcher next to Desiree.

“But, sir—”

“Leave. Now.”

Caden worked his jaw but nodded and turned on his heel. He’d defied direct orders again today. All because of Ember.

Dane scrubbed his face again. His plan had better work.

“Make sure you reset that wrist of hers before she teleports,” he said to the nurses.

He stayed and watched as Desiree was strapped into the stretcher and wheeled off to the medical wing of the facility. He heard her moan twice during the process; she’d be all right.

As for Desiree’s attacker
. . .
he’d have to call the hospital staff, warn them that Ember might be unstable.

Before he could reach for his phone, it rang, and a bolt of unease coursed through him. “Dane Richards,” he answered.

As soon as he heard the voice on the other end of the line, he cursed. He knew he should’ve called sooner.

Ember Pierce had escaped.

CHAPTER 3

T
hey’ll be coming for me now.
That was my first thought the instant I materialized back in the hospital. I took in the medical professionals surrounding me. There were four of them—four of them who stood between me and freedom. Five if I counted the security guard blocking the door.

By their expressions I could tell they were worried I’d prove to be uncooperative.

They were right.

I hoisted myself off the bed and rushed the security guard. No one in the room had time to react before I yanked the baton from his belt.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and then I slammed the weapon into his temple.

The security guard crumpled.

I turned and faced the room just as a nurse lunged for me. I brought my elbow down on the top of her head and felt her stumble. Using the baton, I struck the side of her head and watched her eyes flutter closed.

Need to escape.

The doctor in the room was in the process of pressing the nurse “Call” button on the side of my bed. I brought my weapon down on the back of his skull. As his body pitched forward, I kicked at the nurse closest to me.

The nurse staggered into a tray on wheels and both toppled over. Before he had a chance to get up, I backhanded him with the baton.

I faced the last person standing. The final nurse held up her hands in surrender. “Sweetie, I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help.”

I’ll give her this: the nurse’s voice never wavered, even though her hands shook. Even though she knew I was unstable.

“I can’t go back.”

Something like sympathy filled her eyes. “I’ll make sure you don’t go back.”

I doubted that she even knew what I was referring to. She’d go along with it, however, if it could keep her from harm. Too bad her help would only slow me down. She seemed nice enough.

I vaulted over a bed and smashed the baton against the side of her head. Her eyes rolled back and she fell.

I caught her body and laid her out on the floor. Quickly I checked all five individuals for a pulse, letting out a breath when it was clear all five were alive.

Need to go. Need to go. Need to go.

I didn’t know where I was, where I planned on going, or even what, exactly, my options were, but I couldn’t ignore the sick churn of my stomach begging me to flee.

Hurriedly I began undressing one of the first nurses I’d knocked out. I took her ID badge and clipped it onto the front pocket of the loose top I’d borrowed, then slipped her socks and white sneakers onto my feet. Everything was two sizes too big, but it would have to do.

After I’d dressed I pillaged the room, slipping a pair of latex gloves, a roll of surgical tape, and scissors the good doctor was carrying into the pocket of my borrowed scrubs. I lifted the security guard’s CB radio and carried it out the door with me.

I’d learned from teleporting that half the trick to convincing people of anything was body language. So I walked casually down the hallways, though my body hummed with adrenaline. If I could’ve, I would’ve sprinted out of the place; I didn’t have much time before someone figured out I’d escaped.

I exhaled when I exited the building, squinting under the midday sun. I hadn’t gotten caught. Yet. Now I needed a getaway car.

Making my way to the parking lot, I searched the rows of vehicles for older models. I let my mind drift as I perused the aisles.

I didn’t feel right. My memory was still spotty, but I was pretty sure that before today I hadn’t been a violent person. However, in the past fifteen minutes
. . .
something far darker and primal had taken over. Worse, rage continued to boil within me. I’d gotten my revenge on Desiree. Why didn’t it feel like enough?

And Caden had seen me standing over her body. At the thought my heart thumped painfully. Caden, who’d seemed so moved when he held me in his arms. I swallowed down a thick lump in my throat. What must he think of me? Hell, what could I offer him at this point? He was better off without this confused, destructive version of me.

My eyes honed in on an Oldsmobile that was more relic than car, and I pushed the questions to the back of my mind. I could jump-start a car like this. Sending up a small prayer that I wasn’t stealing from an old person, I walked over to it.

Positioning the tip of the scissors against the glass of the passenger-side window, I thumped the heel of my hand against the scissors’ handle. Nothing. I did it again and again. On my fourth try, a hairline crack appeared. I hit the handle again, and the crack expanded in a spiderweb pattern. Two more hits, and the window finally shattered.

Knocking all remaining glass free, I reached inside and opened the car door. Climbing into the car via the passenger side, I got to work, scrunching up my nose at the smell of stale cigarette smoke. I opened the glove box to see if I could find anything useful.

“Holy shit.” A gun, a knife, a wad of cash, and a bag of weed sat on top of the car’s registration papers. Definitely not Grandma and Grandpa’s car.

Discarding the scissors for the knife, I used its edge to unscrew the bolts holding together the plastic panel beneath the steering wheel. Once the panel was loosened, I removed it, exposing a tangle of wires.

I pulled the latex gloves out of my pocket and slid one, then the other on. As I did so, I absently noted that the skin of my previously split knuckles had stitched itself together when I teleported back here. That happened often, so long as the injuries weren’t too severe. I glanced at my arm; a thin pink line had replaced the knife wound Desiree had inflicted. Once I teleported again, it would completely vanish.

I turned my attention back to the task at hand—pulling the battery and starter wires away from the rest. I cut and stripped each before I began twisting them together. Once I’d finished I tapped the starter wire to the intertwined battery wires.

The sweet sound of the roaring engine was music to my ears. The security guard’s CB radio crackled, and I grabbed the radio and held it to my ear to hear the chatter better. “. . . attack on the west medical wing
. . .
Five down
. . .
Suspect at large.”

I swore under my breath. I’d need to make this fast. I removed the gloves and carefully wrapped them around the exposed wires, making sure not to touch them and risk zapping myself. Grabbing the surgical tape, I secured the latex gloves to the wires. The whole thing looked ridiculous. Ridiculous but effective.

My hands shook as I backed out of the parking spot and maneuvered the car off the hospital lot. I ran a hand over my stomach and felt the indentations where my scars were. What had happened to me?

Ten months. That’s how long it had been since that final night.

I glanced down at my nails. They were much shorter than I ever wore them, and the cut of them was rough. Someone else had clipped them. The idea sent a shiver down my spine.

Had I—had I been unconscious that whole time? If so, why had I finally woken up?

No one looked twice at me as I drove off the hospital’s property, even though the radio next to me was going crazy. I scanned the signs and caught sight of one for the 405 freeway and another for Wilshire Boulevard.

I was in Los Angeles, which meant that I was only hours away from Mexico. I could escape.

What about Caden?

Could I really leave him behind? He was supposed to escape with me. But he hadn’t—even after I’d been spliced, he hadn’t. I remembered the cheap brown carpet that had pricked my skin as Caden had held me. It was the same carpet that lined all the dorm rooms back at the facility.

I rubbed my forehead. That piece of information hadn’t been there a second ago. The longer I was awake, the more my memory filled itself in.

Like the angel-wing tattoo that covered my back. I took a hand off the steering wheel and touched the raised skin of my left shoulder blade. On my eighteenth birthday, I’d woken up with strange markings there. At the time all I understood was that the inky, twisting lines shouldn’t be there, so I camouflaged them with a tattoo.

Only later did I find out that what I’d hidden was my imprint, a genetically programmed ID. The Project used it not only to identify me and other teleporters like me but also to direct us to various locations around the globe.

I let out a shaky breath. My past was slowly coming back to me, and each subsequent memory left me a little more rattled. I pushed my budding worries aside. There’d be plenty of time for reflection once I was out of the country and Dane Richards’s jurisdiction.

I slowed the car to a stop as I hit a red light. Back to my inner debate: escape and leave Caden behind, or let myself get caught and hope that took me back to him?

Would he still want to escape with me after all this time? After what he’d seen just minutes ago?

I rubbed my eyes. A memory I couldn’t quite grasp teased the edge of my mind. I’d made him promises right before my final mission. About what, I couldn’t remember. Something in my gut told me they were important, and I was betraying those promises.

The thing about time, though, was that it changed everything. Ten months was enough to fall in and out of love with someone. It was long enough to grieve a loss and want to move on. It was long enough to break a promise.

Caden hadn’t left. Even though he’d been the one who’d warned me that teleporters disappeared, and even though I had, he hadn’t left.

He hadn’t left.

I’d have to escape without Caden. Objectively it was my best option at the moment. Right now I needed objectivity because my heart was telling me I was a damn fool to leave behind the one person who’d been willing to risk everything for me.

Caden knew how to escape that place. He’d leave if he wanted to. If I was reason enough for him.

I worried my lower lip. Problem was, I no longer knew whether I was.

Caden waited outside Dane’s office, his hands clasped behind his head. His knuckles were bloody from punching a hole in the wall. Caden hadn’t felt this much in a long time, and it made him both excited and helpless. Because Ember wasn’t dead. She. Wasn’t. Dead.

But she could be soon.

And she had to be scared. Confused. That girl who had haunted him all these months.

Dane eyed the hole, then Caden. “I’m ordering you to be debriefed.”

“Boss, I need to see her,” Caden said, stepping up to the man. This was a delicate business, convincing Dane he was up for the task. God, he was going to utterly fuck this up.

“Are you deaf, son? You will not be going on any missions until you talk to Debbie.”

Caden clenched his jaw. Desperation had set in. “Please,” he said, “I’ll debrief with Debbie as soon as I come back. Hell, I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do, sir. Just let me see her.” His voice broke over that last sentence. It was hard to say this, especially to him. Dane was culpable for many things, and the very least of them was lying to Caden about Ember.

The lines on Dane’s face deepened. Caden knew enough about facial expressions to know that his pleas were hurting rather than helping his cause.

“You saw the dress she wore,” Caden continued. “It was the same one as the night she was spliced.” It could’ve been some form of PTSD. That was the only reason why she’d attack Desiree and beat her bloody. “You know I might be the only one who can get through to her.”

Then something flickered in Dane’s eyes. As fast as it had appeared, it vanished.

“Even you know you need me,” Caden said, reading into the expression he’d seen.

“You’re too close to the situation,” Dane said.

“Sir, you know I can do what you ask of me.”

Richards sighed, then beckoned Caden into the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Dane stared him down. “If I send you in and you blow it, you’ll be off missions for the next two months—at the very least.”

At the threat of no more missions, Caden fisted his hands. Richards could be bluffing, but Caden couldn’t chance it. He’d go insane if he was benched from action for two months. Which meant he would not screw this up.

Caden nodded. “What do you need me to do, sir?”

Dane’s face was grim. “I need you to retrieve Ember Pierce.”