This was where I planned to end my speech, with a plea to the citizens watching to help fend off the enemy. But I’m not done. Not done talking, not done understanding, and not done fighting. I know that now.
“We need to stop them from doing this,” I continue. “And then we need to prove ourselves. We can’t strike back against them. We mustn’t. Meeting force with force is not the answer. We have to prove that we’re more than they believe of us—that weareworthy of what has been given to us. They finished their broadcast to us with these words, which were meant to be bait. But I say they are a challenge that we should accept.
“So choose. Choose the stars or the void; choose hope or despair; choose light or the undying dark of space. Choose—and travel onward, if you dare.”
Blood’s pounding through my veins as I look down the camera for my final words, but I’m oddly calm. “What if we offer our hands to those who don’t believe in us? What if we travel onward together?”
As the echoes of my words die away, I finally look away from the screen, to find the others standing behind it. Neal is watching the feed, his face full of hope. Dex’s eyes are shining with tears. Mia’s gaze is waiting to meet mine.
And then, abruptly, her face is illuminated, a bright light shining from behind me. A cold hand curls around my heart as I slowly turn.
The portal is powering up, flickers of light running along the arch of it. Then the rock within it shimmers, turning liquid and oily, a rainbow rippling across the surface.
Atlanta steps out through it, and lifts her hand.
She’s holding a gun.
Her eyes meet mine, and we both hold still for an interminable instant.
And then something strikes me in the shoulder—an odd sensation, like a kick.
And then the pain comes, burning down my arm, spreading across my chest.
And then I look down, and see the blood soaking my shirt.
THE GUNSHOT’S ECHO IN THE CAVERN IS A VISCERAL, GUTTING BLOW.And in its wake I am deafened, numbed, frozen.
Jules turns slowly toward me as he looks down, blood blossoming against his shirt like a rose pinned to his chest. Behind him the portal ripples, blurry vague shapes coming through to stand with the blurry vague shape that shot Jules. Somewhere nearby someone is shouting, and one of the blurry shapes shouts back. And water drips from the ceiling, ticking like a clock, each droplet falling slower than the last.
When Jules looks up, his eyes meet mine. His brows are drawn together, lips parted, his expression one of gentle disbelief and confusion—andapology. He tries to speak, and though I can’t hear the shouts erupting all around me, I can hear the sound that gurgles from Jules’s throat.
He staggers and then crumples to the ground.
I only become aware I’m moving when a pair of arms wraps around me and drags me backward. Someone’s telling me something,ordering me to do something, a dim, buzzing annoyance in my ear. I struggle against my captor, clawing at the arms, jamming my heels down against their feet, and finally jab my elbow back as hard as I can until I hear a crunch, and the arms loosen—just enough.
I break free and run. Behind me someone shouts a curse, and footsteps come after me, but I’ve never moved so fast in my life, and I throw myself down just as another shot cracks against the backdrop of noise. Something whizzes past me and bits of stone fall in a shower behind me. I reach Jules’s side on my knees.
There’s blood everywhere now—the rose is a garden, a sea of red. I rip off my jacket and press it against his chest, pushing as hard as I can to try to stem the flow of blood. Jules moans and coughs, and my heart quakes.
Still alive.
Fragments of what’s happening around me reach my brain. Dex’s voice nearby, shouting, pleading. Another voice, inhuman and cold, a monster’s voice, shouting back with tears choking her. Booted feet running, a muffled exclamation of surprise from Neal. More voices, human voices. The click of readied weapons.
“Look at me,” I beg him, bending low.
Jules’s wide eyes blink, and shift toward my face. His features, twisted with pain, relax the tiniest bit, and he clutches at my arm with a hand sticky with his own blood. “Did it work?” he whispers.
A sound, some mix of laugh and agony, escapes my lips. “Yes,” I tell him, gathering him up onto my lap. “Yes, it worked. Millions of people saw. You did it. You saved us.”
Gunfire erupts in the background, and then more gunfire, the echoes making it impossible to tell its origins. Jules stiffens, his eyes widening in fear. “What’s—”
“It’s nothing,” I interrupt, cupping my hand against his cheek, trying to keep his focus on me. “It doesn’t matter.”
His eyes are still rolled sideways, though, and that look of bewilderment is back. “Is thatMink?” he mumbles.
I don’t want to take my eyes from his face, but I lift my headjust a moment. ItisMink, and a handful of others in secret-ops black, already shooting as more of them come rappelling down from the opening overhead. The Undying are shooting back, and stone is flying every which way, and Dex is shouting, and Neal is pressed against the stone, one hand to his face, where his nose is streaming blood.
“De Luca must have asked her to back us up,” Jules murmurs vaguely. “They ended up on the same side.”
