The Liberator

junk food, I remember with painful clarity that it’s my fault. That I’m the reason she collected sin seals, and the reason she forfeited her soul so that Rector, the head collector, would spare my life. The collectors and sirens are trying to kill Charlie, and it’s my fault.

My heart aches inside my chest.

I did this to her. But I will undo it.

No matter what it takes, I think. I will get her soul back.

Brightly colored packages fall to the floor. Something is happening, something horrible. A ripping sensation spreads over my back, and my ears ring. My entire body feels like it’s turning inside out, like my ribs are pushing their way through my spine. And I can smell something burning. It burns.

I faintly grasp that Charlie is beside me, calling my name, but I can hardly hear her. Someone is screaming. I’m screaming.

Wrapping my arms around my body, I fall to the floor. I roll to my side and cry out. Charlie runs from the room. The pain still comes, faster, stronger. Bones snapping. Muscles tearing.

I’m being torn apart.

I scream until my lungs explode, until I can’t breathe.

20 Look at Her Go

My mind repeats the mantra over and over.

Stop-stop-stop!

And then, suddenly, the pain is gone.

Blue rushes in with Charlie at his heel. He grabs my arm and tugs me to my feet. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me, but other than that, I’m fine.

“He was screaming,” Charlie says, her voice shaking. She wraps her arm around my waist, and the two of them lead me toward the bed. I sit down.

“What happened?” Blue asks. He holds a hand to my forehead like he’s my mom. I slap it away.

“I don’t have a fever, idiot,” I say. “I just…”

I just what? Almost broke in half? Spilled my guts onto the swirly carpet? Deep in my mind, I know what just took place, but I don’t want to say anything. Not now. Not until I’m sure.

“I just had a cramp,” I say, realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

Better than, I think wings just tried to shoot out of my back.

Charlie eyes me in a way that says she isn’t buying it. But she doesn’t push me, either. “Just tell us you’re okay.”

“Screw that,” Blue interrupts. “Tell us what the hell you were screaming about, because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a cramp.”

For the next several minutes, he asks the same question, and I repeat the same answer—I had a cramp. It’s strange, but the only person I want to talk to right now is Valery. And I trust that she’ll stay true to her word and get to us soon.

“Let it go, Blue,” I growl. “I’ll talk to Valery about my muscle spasms.”

Moments later, Annabelle and Aspen enter, bickering about who knows what. “They’ve been at each other’s throats all morning,” Blue offers, though he’s still watching me uncertainly. I wonder if, like Max and me, he’s thought about Rector’s and Kraven’s wings. I’m not sure. But if he has, he may suspect what I just experienced. Thankfully, he seems to be letting it go. Me, on the other hand, I’m having a full-blown panic attack and trying hard to hide it.

As Annabelle calls Aspen some sort of name—that sounds something like hussy —Charlie disappears into the bathroom. She returns with a wet towel and runs it over my brow. The towel reminds me of when a collector knocked Max out with a fire extinguisher, leaving him to spend the night with a hotel towel pressed to his head. That was the same night I told him that I was going to go against Lucille’s orders to collect her soul.

“We need to go.” I get to my feet and wobble for a second. Charlie grabs my arm. “Aspen, you got your keys?”

Aspen gives Annabelle one final repulsed look before facing me. “Yeah, I got them.”

“Then let’s head out.” I try to play it cool, but inside, my heart still pounds.

As we walk toward Aspen’s car, Blue keeps an eye on me. He seems genuinely concerned, and I can’t say I hate knowing he cares. But all I can think about, regardless of who is worried about me, are those damn wings. I want them, but I don’t want to experience that torture again. For now, to calm my twisting stomach, I try to think about something else. About Charlie. About Valery telling me Aspen’s safety is Charlie’s safety. About Grams and her water bottles full of vodka. Whatever.

It doesn’t really work. Not as we crawl into the car and buckle up. Not as Aspen heads east toward Alabama. Not even when night tumbles in through the windows.

And much later, when we’re leaving a shady diner after grubbing down, I’m still thinking about it.

Charlie squeezes my hand, and even though every light in the oversized parking lot is burned out, I know every curve of her face well enough to still see it perfectly.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says.

I grip her hand and pull her closer. In front of us, Annabelle and Aspen argue over whether black-and-white movies are amazing or archaic. Blue walks a few feet behind like he’s waiting for the pair to transition from verbal zingers to hair pulling. He wants a front-row seat for that show, and I don’t blame him.

“I know what happened back there,” Charlie says. “I know why you were screaming.”

I stop midstride.

She curls herself against me and wraps her arms around my waist. Staring up at me, she moves her hands to my shoulder blades. Her fingers run over the place where I felt the most pain, but now all I feel are goose bumps raising along my skin. I close my eyes against her touch and lean my head down toward her neck.

“Are you afraid?” she asks. “That it’ll happen again?”

Yes.

“No,” I say, my voice gruff.

Behind me, I hear the sound of car doors being opened and know that soon the Three Stooges will break up our moment. But for now, I let Charlie soothe me and try to do the same for her.

When the sound of Aspen’s voice finally rings out, it doesn’t surprise me. What does surprise me is her tone. Behind Charlie, I notice four figures neatly hidden in the shadows.

I hold Charlie tighter, slowly turning our bodies so that I’m between them and her. Bending down, I take her heart-shaped face in my hands. I press my lips to her honeysuckle mouth—

And then I push her back toward safety and explode toward the shadows.

Blue is there a second later, his fist connecting with Gage’s stomach.

I hit Salem once before the other three—Easton, Gage, and Lyra—are on me like cockroaches. I punch and kick and receive a burst of adrenaline when Charlie screams. One glance in her direction tells me Annabelle’s holding her in place, and though Charlie is fighting to get loose and help our cause, Annabelle is much stronger.

Thank Big Guy for that.

Agony detonates from all sides of my body as the four sirens throw their fists into my muscles, my bones. At some point I hear the crack of my cell phone in my pocket and know it’s DOA. Blue tries to help fight, but it isn’t enough. We’re two against four, and we’ll be lucky if we can get the three girls out of here unharmed.

Remembering Charlie’s life may be on the line, I ignore the pain and focus on one siren at a time. The first person I see is Lyra. I pause for only a beat before pulling my arm back, because I’m not above hitting a chick if she’s trying kill Charlie. But before my hand connects, Lyra gets laid out.