“Al,” I say as word spreads through the fighting crowds that my brother and dozens of other rebels are surrendering. “I go by Al now.”
36
JAY
SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED. Some message is spreading through the rebels, and more and more of them are throwing down their weapons in surrender. Their presences ripple with defeat.
Pride swells within me as I hear that Cal and Gabriel have surrendered. Erik and Al did it. They managed to defeat their targets, and even without having to kill them—and it’s having exactly the effect we hoped it would: panic, confusion, and surrender are spreading throughout the rebels’ ranks. Of those on their knees, no one appears as though they’re about to get back up. Their spines are bent in defeat. Their weapons are too far from them to easily retrieve. They’ve truly given up.
But not all of them. The fighting continues, and as I risk taking my attention from what’s directly in front of me and our group, my eyes catch on Peter fighting, alone, some distance away. My heart races when I can’t find Lai anywhere near him. Weren’t they together? What happened? Where is she?
More immediate alarm presses in when I identify who it is Peter’s fighting. Devin. The murder-hungry rebel who killed Paul.
Time feels as though it slows. I don’t know where Lai is. I need to find her—but she told me to help Peter, to protect him. And I promised I would. Please, Jay. This means everything to me. There’s no one else I’d trust this to.
When I made that promise, I didn’t think it’d involve choosing between going to her side and staying by his. I thought we’d all be able to stick together. I thought I could protect them both. But I can’t. I don’t even know where Lai is right now, and the longer I hesitate, the farther Peter is pushed back.
Choose. You have to choose.
My grip tightens on my throwing knives.
Peter trips over a fallen rebel as he’s dodging Devin’s blows. He hits the ground, hard.
“I’ll be back!” I shout to the others around me, but I don’t have time to wait for their response.
I reach Peter and Devin just as Devin starts to bring his curved blade down on Peter.
I throw one of my knives at the dead center of Devin’s chest.
He swats my knife out of the air with his sword.
Peter takes the chance to gain a little distance. His breaths fall heavy. We share a look and nod. No going back now. I’ll have to hope we can finish this quickly and then find Lai.
I begin to circle Devin as Peter comes around his other side.
The rebel laughs, a sound that lives on the other side of sanity. “You think you can win against me if there’re two of you? Fine. Bring it on!” The glee in his eyes makes me sick.
I charge, a knife ready in each hand. I feint to his left, and when he dodges, I drop and aim a kick to his ankles. He easily dodges the blow, but Peter comes up behind him with his daggers.
Devin laughs as he alternately dodges each of our attacks with ease, even when we’re both going at him. “That’s all you’ve got?” he asks. “Weak.” He evades another hit. “Weak!” Another. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
As I dodge his strike, he grabs my upper arm with his free hand. Sudden pain shoots through my whole body. It’s so unexpected and sharp I can’t hold back my scream. Peter rushes in to try to help, slashing at Devin’s side, but the rebel merely whirls around and throws me into Peter. Peter quickly changes his attack into a motion to catch me, then backs up so we’re out of immediate range.
However, Devin doesn’t wait for either of us to recover. Pain continues to course through my body like electricity. I can barely stand, let alone help as Peter dives in to cover me. What happened? Is this his gift? It hurts. I can’t breathe. Make it stop.
And above it all, Devin keeps laughing.
Peter is too slow and sustains a long gash along the length of his arm. He shouts in pain and backs away, toward me, but Devin is right after him. I grit my teeth against the effects of Devin’s gift as I run in to cover Peter. My whole body still hums with electric hurt. But I can’t stand the thought of seeing Peter killed right in front of me, of watching another friend fall—and after I told Lai I’d do my best to protect him. I won’t fail either of them.
Peter’s ragged breaths ring in my ears as I match Devin blow for blow. But he’s faster than I am and quick to overpower me. I’m on the ground before I’m even fully aware of it. Pain burns through my leg—but it’s a different pain from before. A gash cuts across my calf, deep and burning. When I try to stand, I fall right back down.
Devin stands in front of me. I swing my knife at him, but he kicks it out of my hand with a laugh.
I clench my fists. I’m sorry, Lai. I couldn’t follow you to the end of this war after all.
With a fire in his eyes, Devin lifts his sword to deal the final blow, but Peter rushes in to block the rebel’s blade with his dagger. It looks like a toy in comparison.
“Peter, don’t!” I shout. He won’t be able to hold off Devin for long. He needs to get out of here, not try to protect me. If I can’t stand, I’m already dead. There’s no reason for both of us to die.
“No!” Peter shouts right back. His eyes burn more fiercely than Al’s as he pushes against Devin, even as the rebel’s blade gets closer and closer to Peter’s collarbone. “I’m not going to watch any more of the people I care about die right in front of me!”
“Then I’ll just have to kill you first.” Devin laughs again, and I know his sword is about to toss Peter’s small blade aside.
But then he stops laughing. The sound turns into a gasp, then a choking cough as he looks down at the sword suddenly sprouting through his chest from behind. In an incredibly strange moment that seems to last a year, we all look behind him.
I expect to see one of the Order members, maybe even Lai herself, appearing to save her old friend. Instead, one of the rebels’ leaders stands there holding the blade piercing through Devin. The one with the gift over ice, Joan.
We all stare at her in shocked silence.
“The hell have you done?” Devin asks, but his voice comes out sputtering and wet.
“You have long been a disgrace to us,” Joan says. Her voice is tinged with disgust. “Your love of violence, of pain—you’ve never fought for peace for the gifted. Only for yourself and the chance to kill. You should have been judged a long time ago.”
Devin tries to twist around and slash at Joan, but the sword impaling him keeps him stuck in place.
Joan twists her sword and Devin screams. I think I’m going to be sick. “And that,” she says quietly, “was for killing Paul.”
Recognition flashes across Peter’s face at the same time I remember the rebels’ first ambush, back when we were still with the military. She was the rebel Paul had been head over heels for before everything fell apart.
As Joan rips her sword out of Devin and lets him fall to the ground, Peter snaps out of his shock and attempts to help me up. We back away as Joan watches Devin’s last breaths contemptuously. I think he spits what sounds like a threat or an insult at her, but whatever he says, it doesn’t matter. I see the moment the light leaves his eyes for good.