“What about my father?” Gabi asked.
Walker rose into a squat, scanning the woods with avid eyes as she bounced on her heels. “Your real father,” Cleo said, “was an anonymous donor. All your mother knew of him was his ID number and genetic profile.”
“What!” Gabi screeched, wriggling out of the animal pelt. “You mean I came from a test tube like some freak! Is that why I’ve always been sick?”
“No!” Walker said, cutting her off. “You came from your mother and a very intelligent, healthy man with good genes. You are the mirror image of Artis, and don’t forget it. She was a special woman. She saved my life.”
“But—”
Cleo held up her hand. “Listen, we’re running out of time. I’ve told you all this because I need you to trust me, but know this. I found your mother’s field station because I was running for my life. I took Ames and another Witness, a new recruit, out on a scouting mission from our base camp. At some point, I lost Ames and the recruit. Next thing I knew, Ames ambushed me and came at me with a knife. He’d sent the recruit back to camp and tried to kill me because he knew I was having doubts about Unitas. I ran until I came across the field station. Your mother was there, heavily pregnant. She begged me to take her back to Alder, insisting that you needed to be born at the Care Center. Ames went back to camp and fabricated some story about a Tribal attack, sure that I’d bleed to death. The other Witnesses insisted on forming a search party and found us. I kept Ames’s secret for the sake of getting the team and your mother to the Care Center quickly.” Walker leaped to her feet and looked toward the sound of branches snapping under heavy boots.
“Is she still alive?” Gabi whispered, staring blankly into the fire.
“Your mother died saving lives. She began to hemorrhage from the birth after we left the Care Center. Ames had followed us with a handpicked team, having convinced them that I was a traitor. I took Artis to a village clinic just before Ames set fire to everything. We tried to get people out, but my own burns were so bad that I couldn’t touch anyone. Your mother collapsed from blood loss and smoke inhalation and was already dead when I reached her. I had dragged myself out and as far into Tribal territory as I could when FCC scouts found me.” Cleo reached down and grabbed Gabi by her chin, forcing the girl’s eyes to hers. “Your mother saved me, and now I am going to save you. I will try to do the same for your friends and brother, but Ames is blinded by power. There’s nothing more dangerous than a desperate man. Get up now. It’s time.”
“Cleo?” Gabi said as she kicked free of the pelt, pins and needles prickling in her legs as she stood.
“What?” Cleo said, eyes hardening as she drew a hunting knife from her utility belt.
“Those people you’re with—are they Lilim?”
“Let her go!” a voice barked as Mathew burst into the glade; Marnie, Jordan, and the rest of the Witnesses close behind. Cleo spun Gabi around so that the woman’s steel-banded forearm locked across her upper chest. The knife blade bit into the tender hollow behind Gabi’s earlobe.
“If my soldiers are Lilim,” Cleo rasped in her ear, “then so are you.”
Chapter NINETEEN
EIGHTEEN GUNS. Gabi counted them from the hatch in her mind. Eighteen guns pointed right at her chest. She was halfway through the hatch but too curious about what might unfold to go entirely away. She knew the guns were meant for Cleo, but something about having her brother and friends on the other end of those weapons made the distinction inconsequential as the other Witnesses and Sykes forced their way into the clearing. Apostle Ames joined them, strolling into the glade with the lazy satisfaction of a cat approaching a dish of warm milk, until the identity of Gabi’s captor dawned across his face and those of the armed Witnesses. One by one the guns were lowered, except for Mathew’s. A knife was still a knife, and the wicked blade Cleo Walker held to Gabi’s throat appeared on the verge of separating her head from her neck.
“Walker, is that you?” asked Sykes, eyes popping in wonder as she stepped toward Cleo.
“Raise your weapons!” Ames ordered as he burst into the circle of light cast by the fire.
“But, sir, it’s—”
“I am well aware of who it is, Sykes. She is a traitor and a danger to the fellowship.”
“Shouldn’t we at least—”
“Take aim!” A vein writhed in Ames’s forehead. Reluctantly, the Witnesses pointed their guns at Cleo.
“Let her go,” Mathew demanded, edging closer to Cleo and holding out a hand to Gabi.
“I’ll do the talking here,” Ames growled.
“No,” Cleo said calmly. “I will talk, and you are going to listen.”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to give orders,” Ames blustered.
“Oh, I disagree. Lower your weapons and no one gets hurt.” Gabi felt Cleo give a subtle nod. Dozens of the black-clad figures who had disappeared into the forest rematerialized, encircling the clearing in a human wall. The Witnesses turned their backs to each other, drawing into a defensive knot.
“Hand her over!” Ames ordered. Cleo tightened her arm around Gabi’s chest.
“And why should you care so much about one girl, Burtie, and the daughter of your least favorite councilman no less? I would think you’d be happy to deal Brother Lowell such a blow. Oh wait, I’m forgetting something. You need this girl, don’t you?” Cleo increased the pressure across Gabi’s chest yet again, forcing more air out of her lungs.
“Stop,” Marnie yelled, “you’re hurting her!”
“Just let her go,” Mathew pleaded. “Here.” He lowered his gun and kicked it across the ground toward Cleo. “I’m Mathew,
