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“And why exactly is that ability buried?”
“Do you really want me to explain that to you right now? Tonight has been—”
“Hell. I know. Jeremy is the answer, right?” The question rasps from my throat, rough with dread. The road is steady for now, but my emotions are all over the place.
Micah’s hands slide to my upper arms, and he bends at the knees to meet my stare. “Ember, we can do this when we get out of the truck.”
“No. Please. Just tell me.”
He straightens and studies me, those otherworldly eyes assessing my mental state, I assume, which is a test I surely fail, but he gives me what I want anyway. “We have gifts we’re born with, we call them assets, but it’s not until twenty-seven that we come of age. That translates to us becoming powerful in ways I won’t explain right now.”
The fortune teller, I think, my belly clenching. She said I was the end of the world. She said at twenty-seven I would be the end of the world. “I’m there now.”
“Right. This next part you will not like.”
“It gets worse?”
“When you’re past this, knowing the truth will be more important than everything you’ve lost. From what I’ve pieced together, the two people you know as your parents are part of the Corrupt.”
I go still, a tremble in my belly. “What is the Corrupt?”
“You’ve heard the human tales of the Illuminati?”
“Yes. People who sell their souls for fame and wealth.” I know where this is going, and it’s a bad place.
“They’re the same thing as the Corrupt. They’re human servants to demons who are paid in unique ways for their loyalty. And yes, in this case, to Jeremy. I believe you were kidnapped from your real parents, and your powers were bound until they could be somehow manipulated and used when you came of age.”
My hands go to my face, and my chin lowers. This can’t be real, and yet, some deep, barely reachable part of me is screaming with victory that I finally know the truth. Micah eases my hands down, and his touch speaks to me in ways I do not understand. It’s familiar when I do not know. It’s right when all of this is wrong.
Because we are alike, I think.
“It’s a lot to take in,” he says softly.
“I think I’m numb. Or in shock. Or losing my mind. Where are you taking me?”
“You’re not losing your mind. I’m taking you to one of my garrisons.”
“And a garrison is what to you?”
“A secure facility under my command.”
“A prison?”
“No. It’s a compound of sorts where we live, train, operate, and most importantly, where Jeremy cannot get to you, should he follow.”
“Will he follow?”
“We need to regroup and figure that out.”
His cellphone rings, and he pulls it from his pocket, stepping away from me and offering me his back. I rotate Micah’s direction, just in time to watch his spine go ramrod stiff. Something is wrong. Oh God. Oh no. His men. The phone slides back in his pocket, and he runs a hand over his hair before his gaze lifts skyward, and in that moment, I can feel him as I have never felt another.
Pain. Guilt. Rage. Rejection.
Death.
His men didn’t make it.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I rush his direction and step in front of him, and when his eyes meet mine, all of those emotions he feels slam into me with a mighty force. I don’t understand this Seer link or how it makes me feel this with him and for him, but my hands flatten on his sides, as if I might steady him, this stranger I’ve barely come to know. “Jeremy killed them.” It’s not a question. His men are dead.
