of dark robes flies in all directions, making it impossible to see where one ends and his brother begins. Bullets cut through cloth and air, emerging on the other side to embed in our own walls.
This is pointless—bullets won’t stop the Fade. How do you kill pure evil?
“Bring it down,” Honoria orders, closer now, as she and the others join our retreat. “Collapse the corridor!”
Chunks of ceiling break loose and crash to the ground, creating a new obstacle for the Fade to cross.
“Get away from the walls!”
“It’s coming,” I say, and straighten Tobin’s shades, unsure if he’s paying as much attention to Honoria as he is to the destruction. He pushes off the wall, prepared for another sprint.
The passageway begins to vibrate, growing hotter as the redirected power collecting behind the walls reaches capacity. Generators snap on with a hum, flooding the complex with lights as intense as a second sun. In their wake come the screams and howls missing from the battle, and I know we’ve finally hurt them.
Panels that blinked red only minutes earlier burn hot enough to turn my alarm into a branding iron when it knocks against the wall as we flee.
Our shades protect us, but the Fade recoil, burned by light their pale eyes can’t handle. Some crumple like they’ve hit a solid barrier, but Honoria stays put, ready for the next wave.
The people who are close enough pick up the smallest children and run with them. I focus on the sound of boots and voices because it’s easier to make out than the obscure outlines my shades provide, but the noise leaves me dizzy, disoriented by fractured memories dredged up with the sounds of screaming Fade. I tuck my head into Tobin’s shoulder as he sprints to the only refuge we have left. I don’t even realize we’ve reached the bunker until the door slams behind us. My feet find their way back to the floor as I slip my shades back into their pocket.
I turn to say thank you, but Tobin wanders off to a corner by himself.
He’s the ghost again, and it’s with a pang I’m reminded he has more reason to hate me than most. So why is he the one who saved me?
I’ve lived a short life, most of which I can’t remember, and it doesn’t take long for the rest to flash through my mind while I wonder if it’s already over.
The wait reminds me of stories we’ve read in class. Our teachers claim things like art and literature are as important to survival as food and water, and they’ve preserved all they could of things written in the world before the Fade, including those of a place called Purgatory. There’s no sense of time, and no beginning or end, only the torment of an uncertain outcome over which you have no control. I didn’t believe it was real, but now I know we’re there.
I try counting off seconds in my head, but lose track around six thousand, at the point people thaw out enough to risk talking. Most everyone’s in motion; nerves make settling down impossible.
“We should just give her to them.”
Hearing Jove make the suggestion isn’t as surprising as having him wait nearly two hours to do it.
“Shh!” Anne-Marie, feeling guilty for choosing a seat with the crowd, no doubt. She shouldn’t. Safety in numbers is the first rule of self-defense. “You’re scaring the babies.”
Jove has the sense to look ashamed when he realizes that several pairs of very small ears are listening, but it only lasts until his attention strays back to me.
“We were doing fine until she got here.”
His argument’s always the same. It was my scent the Fade caught when I ran through the Dark, and it was me they followed through the Grey to the Arclight’s boundary, so the attacks are my fault. I can’t even say he’s wrong. There hadn’t been a Red-Wall for years before I came.
“Shove it, Jove,” Anne-Marie snaps. The last time he went off on this tangent, she dunked him in the ice bin from the Common Hall. Twice.
She reaches for a terrified bundle of curls and tears, and totes the girl to a quieter part of the room. A small troop of others follows her.
“Sorry,” she mouths when they pass me.
Anne-Marie busies herself with soothing the babies by having them sing lesson songs from class. Other, older voices drift in, thankful for the distraction, and soon the danger of the night is set to verses about numbers and silly sounds.
Tobin finds a seat under a table full of supply boxes. He draws his knees up to his chest and buries his face against them, rocking to the tempo of the children’s voices, while matching their cadence with a bump against the wall.
“Hey, Fade-bait.” Jove’s boot toes the side of my bad leg.
I tell myself I will not answer.
Anne-Marie’s voice notches louder, attempting to drown out Jove’s with the days of the week.
“If we toss you out a window, would the Fade really choke on your blood?”
I will not answer . . . I will not. . . .
“That’s what happens, right? You’re poison to them?”
I will not . . . I will not. . . .
He drops to his haunches directly in front of me. Have his eyes always been this cold? Was he a different person before I came?
“What’s the matter, freak?” he asks. “Forget how to talk?”
I cut my eyes sideways, not seeking permission so much as encouragement. Anne-Marie nods; I snatch Jove’s hand, and lick the back of his wrist.
“You’re still breathing, so I can’t be that toxic,” I say when he sputters backward, tripping over his own feet and landing hard.
A round of snickers runs through the room. Jove spits on his hand to wash it off, and climbs back to his feet.
“How’s it feel to know so many of us died because of you ?” He shoves my shoulders, knocking me back when I try to stand and face him. “You do know it’s your fault, right? If you’re Fade-proof, they died for nothing.”
No, they died for the hope that a human coming through the Dark alive meant . . . something. I just wish I knew what. Then they’d stop asking me.
Jove grabs my inhaler, using the cord to hoist me off the ground.
“Do they really eat the bodies they can’t use? Keep them as pets? What? What’d they do with your bunch?”
I’d bite him if I wasn’t sure he’d leave a sour taste in my mouth.
“Jove, let her go.” Anne-Marie’s on her feet now, too.
“Did you watch it happen?” Our faces are barely an inch apart. “Did you hear them scream? Did
