I raise my voice at him. “Jeran!” I scream. “Retreat! Retreat!”
Jeran’s eyes flicker toward me, but his jaw is set as he ignores me and goes back to freeing the prisoners. I curse. Damn bleeding hearts.
Caitoman shoots at me again. I dodge a second time, but now I can tell that they are less interested in the prisoners and more determined to keep me from escaping. I am the real prize. I narrow my eyes and dart into the crowd of soldiers, cutting anyone down in my path. But there are so many of them now.
“Strikers!” I shout again and again, blindly. “Retreat!”
From the corner of my eye, I see Jeran ushering some of the prisoners toward the woods. A few of them have broken past the train station and are heading straight into the forest. Jeran whirls as some of the Ghosts lunge toward them. He switches one of his blades for a gun in the same fluid movement.
Then he freezes in his path. His eyes are fixed on the first Ghost hurtling toward him. All the color has drained from his face.
My eyes flicker to the beast that has caught his attention. It was clearly transformed recently—still bearing some resemblance to the old man it once was, though its lips are already ripped and bleeding from the larger, jagged teeth growing in its mouth. Its skin has begun cracking in places, all the way down to the red muscle.
It looks familiar. And an instant later, I realize who it is.
This was once Jeran’s father.
My head whips back to Jeran. “No!” I shout. “Move!” I crouch as if to rush to him, but I know I’m too far away to reach him in time. In my panic, I switch to Karenese. “It’s not your father!”
But Jeran doesn’t move. His face is locked on his father’s, and his body is frozen in terror.
In that expression, you see the boy he must have once been, cowering under the cruelty of the Senator, bearing the abuse quietly. You see the same fear on his face that you’d seen in the Grid.
Jeran takes a hesitant step backward. All his Striker training seems to have left him. He drops his gun and remaining blade and raises his hands toward his face as if in self-defense. His father—the Ghost—lunges at him with jaws open.
Adena comes out of nowhere. She barrels hard into Jeran, knocking him out of the Ghost’s path and clear to the ground.
At the same time, Aramin jumps down from the top of the train to land in a crouch before Jeran and Adena. His teeth are bared in a snarl; a blade shines in each of his hands.
He gives the charging Ghost a grim smile before rushing at it.
I’m forced to tear my gaze away as more soldiers try to fence me in. But even from the corner of my eye, I see blood spray. I don’t know whether it’s from the Ghost or from Aramin. From the top of the train shoots a net. I dart out of the way barely in time and turn toward the others again in another attempt to join them.
That is when the shadow falls over me. I know in the pit of my stomach who it is before I raise my eyes.
Talin has arrived.
7
RED
Talin’s figure soars above us and lands a dozen yards in front of me, blocking my path to the others. I freeze, transfixed by the crouched figure before me.
She is breathtaking—I can’t help but think it. Her black wings extend fully from her back, seeming to block out the sky and everything else behind her. Every line of her exudes power. She lifts her eyes to meet mine.
And there, I don’t see the girl who saved me in the arena, nor the girl who once soaked in a bath a hundred feet from me, both of us lost in the quiet moment.
I see someone new and terrifying.
In this Skyhunter’s eyes, I see flickers of the Premier. This is not Talin, but Constantine come to retrieve his servant of war.
It’s the thought of him here, even more than the sight of Talin in her full armor, that sends a ripple of terror through me. They’re here to take me back, and they know I’m no match for her.
She bolts at me before I can retreat. I whirl to one side, but she anticipates my move and hurtles into me, sending me reeling onto my back. The force of her hit knocks the wind out of me. I cannot believe how strong she is.
“Talin—” I manage to utter, but my voice is lost in the next second as she rushes at me again. I roll aside and force myself to my feet, darting out of her path in time before her hands can lock around my throat. The Karensan soldiers have backed away, afraid to get between two Skyhunters battling it out. I am fast; I am the only one here who stands any chance against her. But there’s no question that she will overwhelm me. Pain lances through my back as I attempt to stretch my broken wings as far as I can manage. I scan the area for a way out.
She locks her glowing eyes on me. Then she crouches and hurtles for me again.
I do the only thing I can think of. I lunge toward Caitoman, where he stands with his guards. Two of his soldiers try to stop me, but I shove the first aside. The second brings his gun up to my face. I grab it from his hand and strike him hard in the head. He crumples. Caitoman swings at me—I dodge around him and lock my arm hard around his neck. Then I whirl to face Talin.
“Constantine,” I call out, my eyes fixed on Talin, not daring to look up to where the Premier might be watching this all play out. “Your brother’s life, or mine.”
For a moment, I think the Premier will not stop Talin from attacking me, that he is perfectly willing to sacrifice his brother. Caitoman bares his teeth in my grip, but even as he struggles, I hang grimly on. I wait a beat longer. Talin does not move.
Constantine must have told her to hold off.
The thought makes my heart sink. A small part of me had hoped, however foolishly, that maybe she wasn’t so tightly linked to the Premier’s commands. What a stupid thought. I face her, my heart pounding desperately, and for the first time since we were separated, I allow myself a good look at her.
She hesitates before me. Where before I had only seen her narrowed eyes, ready to kill, now I catch a glimpse of something else in her gaze. Recognition, at least, of who I am. And as I notice this, I sense the first inkling of something in our link that goes beyond the simple beat of our hearts.
I sense an emotion from her. Fear.
Fear of hurting me, of seeing me captured, of seeing me killed in this place. The emotion washes over me in a wave, and it is such a familiar feeling, that it takes everything in me to remember she is no longer the same person I once knew. She is a weapon of the Federation now, a danger to us all. I tighten my grip around Caitoman’s neck. His hands clutch my arm in vain. Some of his soldiers step forward, uncertain what they can do to help their commanding officer, but he just moves his head stiffly at them.
Then, from behind the lines of soldiers, I hear Constantine’s voice drift to us. “Let him go.”
I turn my head to see his familiar silhouette framed against the backdrop of Newage, his form frighteningly thin, shadows darkening the skin under his eyes. If he is concerned for his brother, I do not see it in his steady gaze.
“I do not take orders from you,” I call to him in Karenese.
“I am not ordering you,” Constantine replies. “I am telling you it is the only way to save you and your friends’ lives.”
I glance over my shoulder. One look is all it takes to tell me that we have lost this battle bitterly. Jeran is nowhere to be seen. Had his father taken him down? Aramin struggles in the grip of Karensan soldiers. Adena has been forced to the ground, her cheek pressed hard into the dirt. Two other young Strikers lie dead near the tracks. The circle of soldiers around us presses tight, and the shrieks of Ghosts pierce the air as they shake their heads restlessly after the heat of battle.