"We can't park too far away from this place," Leslie cut in. "We might need to get away in a hurry. Luckily, I didn't see any cops when we came into town. We should turn the headlights off."

  Deon did. "Good idea."

  They parked behind the same little market Paul had picked up some stuff from on the first day, in an alley that wasn't in sight of the police station and had two exits out. A dog barked somewhere as they climbed out in silence, closing the doors as quietly as they could. Gary was right. Andrina and Thomas Curt had made this too easy. But a heavy feeling in Paul's gut told him that there wasn't any time to waste. They didn’t have time to think out a plan for this, except to go around the front doors of the Temple and try to get in the back.

  Deon popped the trunk. "Gary, we'll need to take some of this with us."

  He leaned down into the trunk to produce a jug filled with water. Paul couldn't help but stare. "How's that supposed to--"

  "It's ocean water," Gary explained as if Paul should know already. "Keeping some of it with us keeps our abilities from being drained completely. It's not perfect, though. Sure didn't help Janelle too much. And you won't need it."

  "She was outnumbered," Paul said. "Well, if the twins got her."

  Another flash of lightning lit the air, but at least no rain poured down. "And we'll probably be outnumbered, too, if they're expecting us."

  Paul stared at his group. Gary and Deon looked ridiculous standing there and holding jugs of water, ready to go into battle. Exhaustion weighed at his own limbs, making him want to collapse to the concrete and sleep right there in the alley. Leslie squeezed his hand from the side, standing taller, putting on that tough act that Paul was sure was hiding how she really felt: like him.

  She glanced at him and back to Gary. "Well, they're not expecting me, are they?"

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There wasn't much noise coming out of the Masonic Temple, just a shadow moving across the open doorway as they approached. Leslie stiffened and fought the urge to turn back and wait at the car, like Paul had wanted her to. But she wasn't plain old Leslie anymore. Like it or not, those days were gone. If anything good was to come out of her new life, it would be helping her best friend, who had risked the same for her at one time.

  Paul waved them to the side of the building, and their feet thudded in the grass as they ran. A lone raindrop hit her in the forehead as she watched Paul creep up towards a long window.

  "Let me try to see in there. I'm taller," he said, rising on his toes. Leslie held her breath as his eyes darted back and forth, straining to see inside. "There's people standing around. I see Thomas Curt. And a cop. Great. How did I know they were going to be here too?"

  "No Janelle?" Leslie asked.

  "Don't see her. Maybe they don't have her here."

  "I don't believe that." Gary shuffled in to get a look, but the window was too high for him. "Let's cut around to the back. See if there's another door."

  Leslie didn't believe that, either. If they had Janelle, they'd hardly be letting her walk around with that door open like that.

  There was a back door, and it was clearly locked. Leslie only had to tug on it to realize that. "Looks like it's going to have to be broken," she said, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. "How are we supposed to do that without them hearing us?"

  Deon cut in front and took the door handle. "Like this." With a twist, something broke inside the lock with a snap. "Now we wait to see if anyone heard us."

  No one seemed to have. Leslie braced herself to run, but after a full minute, no one came to the door. "I think they want us to go in," she said, hoping that someone would come up with a better alternative. But no one did. What were they supposed to do? Call the police? The dispatcher would send the Mobley cops who were just down the street. There was silence as Paul and Gary and Deon stared at each other, no doubt thinking the same thing.

  She took a deep breath. I can defend myself now. Maybe, even better than Gary and Deon could.

  Leslie opened the back door of the Masonic Temple and slowly stepped into a darkened kitchen.

  There were still faint smells of the food they must have prepared here on their first day in Mobley, for that meeting where Eric and Thomas Curt had showed that video. A fridge hummed nearby, barely audible over the raised voice of a woman out in the main room.

  She strained her ears, but the muffled voice--no doubt Elise's--was barely too far off to make out. So she was here, too. Gary traded a grimace with her and Paul drew closer, his gaze imploring her to go back.

  But there was no going back now.

  Paul's breath blew on her neck as she drew closer to a second door, a drafty one that must have dated from a few decades ago judging from all the peeling paint. There was a crack between it and the frame, just enough to let her see into the main room and to hear Elise enough to tell what she was saying.

  "…if I'd known. This is insanity. We're not sure what we're messing with here." A blur of pink appeared not too far from the door, back turned. Elise was wearing her puppy sweater again, the one that made Leslie think of her encounter at the police station. "How are we supposed to know what an Outbreaker's breath is going to do to a Tempest? It's never been done before. It could be fatal for all we know. I understand our species unifying, Andrina. These are desperate times. But I believe that Huracan kept us separate for a reason." She muttered something that Leslie couldn't catch. "If you were still young enough to have children, I would not approve of your current relationship. And besides, aren't you concerned about what this may do to your daughter?"

  Gary swore next to her, gripping her shoulder with enough force to hurt. Leslie tried not to flinch as she let the news sink in.

  Some Outbreaker was going to give Janelle their breath.

  Her thoughts raced. What would that even do to a Tempest? Would it even have an effect? Maybe. Maybe not. What would someone with both sets of powers be able to turn into, anyway? A tornado the size of a hurricane? It would be a nightmare, whatever it was.

  "Oh, stop touting your Elder Council talk. You're so tied down to tradition," Andrina said from somewhere. "This is necessary, Elise. It's the only way to ensure we're united under strong leaders, and I know that putting the pieces together like this is the answer. I've been seeking it for years. Besides, I'm going first. If I'm harmed in any way, do not give the same thing to Janelle. And if I die--and I'm certain I won't--I expect all of you to defer to Janelle, as she will then be the rightful Tempest High Leader. War is still coming, and even she will realize that."

  Now it was Leslie's turn to let profanity slip out of her lips. Andrina was going to take the Outbreaker breath first. She crouched down against the door to let Gary and Paul see over her head.

  "No, Ma'am. I won't stand for this. I understand many of your points, but this is going too far. How do we know this will even work? There could be more pieces to this for all we know. Huracan was the god of bad weather in general, and that encompasses more than tornadoes and hurricanes."

  Leslie got a better view as Elise stepped out of the way to reveal the main hall. There were long tables sitting out, and tied down to one with yellow cables was Janelle, still dressed in her lavender suit. But her best friend wasn't moving or struggling. Her chest rose and fell, but she didn't so much as lift her head to see what was going on. A few officers stood around her, keeping guard, but overall the place seemed pretty empty. This wasn't an event for the public. Not this late at night.

  "They must have her sedated," she whispered as Gary brushed up against her to see.

  "Great," he muttered, sucking in a breath. "They do. We've got to get in there."

  She stared hard at him. He'd been the one insisting this was a trap. Gary shook his head and glanced at Janelle again. Trap or not, they might not have a choice.

  "Well, if there are more pieces, I'll find them," Andrina snapped. "Thomas. I'm ready. We can't wait for the kids to get here. I suppose we can find Paul later."

  Andrina walked over to a table, lying down on top of it. Thomas Curt appeared in Leslie's view, drawing closer, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to go through with this. Elise took a step forward, but froze as Andrina's glare landed on her. Feet shifted around on the linoleum.

  If Andrina managed to get any more powerful, they might never get Janelle out of there.

  Leslie reached for the door. She owed this to Janelle after luring her here. They had to move. She nodded to Paul and Gary, who was unscrewing the lid on the jug of ocean water. "The table," he whispered to Deon. "Go for the table."

  There was no more waiting. Leslie sucked in a breath, ready to make the second biggest mistake of her life, and shoved open the kitchen door.

  Thomas Curt jumped and spun around. Andrina sat up, blinking at her in surprise. Leslie struggled for words, but none came.

  She didn’t have to speak. Water splashed behind her, bringing a salty smell with it, and a fierce wind blasted through the room as Gary and Deon stared down the table Andrina lay on, shirts dripping with a bit of the ocean.

  Paul leapt out of the way and took her arm, trying to hold her down, but it wasn't needed. The wind snapped against their clothes, but she couldn't feel it pushing her at all. It was as if it was making a detour around her and Paul, leaving them standing there together in the storm that was making the fans above her head shake and spin.

  No, it was going right for the table Andrina lay on, and Thomas Curt behind it.

  No one in the room moved in the blast. Maybe it couldn't affect Outbreakers? The table wasn’t immune, though. It went flying out from under Andrina with a horrible screech, ramming into Thomas Curt and sending him staggering back, clutching his arm as she tumbled to his feet. From there, it flew for the line of officers on the other side of the room, tilting until its legs pointed back at Leslie.

  There was a crash so loud that she couldn't help but smash her hands against her ears. A pair of blue trousers stuck out from under the table, still. A sick feeling filled her gut. Gary and Deon might have killed that guy.

  Paul slapped her on the back. "Your friend," he said, eyes darting to Janelle. "I'll cover your back. Go!"

  She did. Janelle lay on the table, tied down, eyes closed. Behind her, Elise screamed and Thomas Curt cried out in pain. She didn't have time to feel sorry for these people. They'd tried to murder Paul's uncle and nearly made him kill thousands at the arena.

  "Janelle! Wake up. It's Leslie." Her friend's eyelids fluttered as Leslie shook her shoulders, but didn't open all the way. Drugs. That had to be it. "I'll untie you. Hold on." She was stronger now, right? If Paul had broken those cuffs, could she break these straps? "Open your eyes. We have to go." Her hands took the first strap, the one across her stomach, and pulled as she kept yelling at Janelle to wake up.

  It snapped. Janelle groaned and opened her eyes halfway. To the side, Paul shoved back Thomas Curt and Gary was in a wrestling match with one of the cops. Andrina struggled to get off the floor. Several other officers were gathered around their fallen comrade, eerily silent. Rain beat against the flat roof.

  Leslie grit her teeth and broke the second strap in her hands, freeing Janelle's legs. "Sit up!"

  "Huh?" her friend managed. It was better than unconsciousness, but not much. Janelle needed to walk. Run, maybe. And fight. That gave her an idea. "Hold on!"

  A half-filled jug of ocean water sat near the kitchen door, amazingly still upright after the blast of wind. She bolted across the room, foot going out from under her for a terrifying millisecond as she ran across a stray puddle.

  Then, a hand wrapped around her ankle.

  Leslie went down, pain surging through her elbow. A glance back at a head of brown hair growing into blond confirmed it: Andrina had tripped her, scowling. She was going for the jug, too.

  She wouldn't let her get it. Leslie shook her leg, breaking her grip and sending a kick into her shoulder. Andrina drew back and sat on her knees, rubbing her shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut. Leslie turned and wrapped her hand around the handle as someone's shoes squeaked on the linoleum.

  Then, she felt something cold push against the back of her head.

  Her stomach knew what it was before her brain did. She swallowed bile and froze, hand tightening around the handle of the milk jug as if an electric current were rushing through her arm.

  The sounds of struggle stopped, leaving a heavy silence. Janelle muttered something from the table she must still be lying on.

  "Up," a gruff voice behind her ordered. "You heard me. Now. Up!"

  She had forgotten that there were armed cops in here. Leslie didn't have to ask what he had at the back of her head. It made that sick terror rise up in her all over again, that same terror she'd felt when Andrina's henchman, Kevin, had her restrained in front of Janelle, ready to snap her neck if her best friend didn't do what she said.

  Leslie swallowed. Her throat was dry. Her teeth hurt. But she rose, releasing the jug of ocean water that would surely make Janelle snap out of it and help.

  Janelle still lay on the table, free of her straps but unable to do anything more than raise an arm, which flopped back down onto her stomach. Paul stood almost opposite her, staring on in horror, his pupils dilated so much that it seemed to be squeezing the brown and black from his eyes, pushing the Outbreaker out of him. Thomas Curt stood next to him, seemingly oblivious that Paul was still there. His gaze was focused on the blue trousers of the unlucky officer sticking out from under the fallen table. Gary coughed somewhere to her side. Even the pink of Elise's sweater moved somewhere in her peripheral vision. Deon must be somewhere behind her, but Leslie didn't dare turn her head.

  She was the victim again. Paul's breath hadn't changed that after all.

  "Do not shoot her," Andrina ordered, voice booming a few feet behind her. "I'd like to deal with her personally after my procedure. I've got no need for her anymore. Thomas, where were we? I prefer that they watch this."

  The mayor cleared his throat. A greenish tint had come over his cheeks in the time he'd spent staring at the fallen officer. "It's a shame you didn't accept our gift," he managed, barely glancing at Leslie. "You would have enjoyed a good life here in Mobley. Now you've left us no choice but to deal with you in a different way. Sad, really." He cleared his throat as Andrina sat down on the floor next to him, stretching out on her back with her gray eyes cast lovingly up towards him.

  They didn't know that Paul had turned her. In the scuffle, no one had really noticed the supposedly-still-human redheaded girl running in. Neither Gary nor Deon spoke up to correct the mayor and she didn't think that revealing the truth would get the cop to remove the pistol from the back of her head. This might be an advantage…she could move without getting shot.

  And move, someone needed to do. Thomas Curt kneeled down next to Andrina, the color in his eyes starting to churn and spin around each other, just like Paul's had done back in the van. A faint feeling washed over her as the rain outside poured down harder and a fresh crack of thunder shook the building, as if anticipating the merger. Why couldn't the cop behind her fall over and have an Outbreak? Or Thomas Curt?

  "Don’t try anything," the officer reminded her. But his words were lost as Thomas Curt's lips met Andrina's.

  There was no roar. Not that she could hear, anyway. Andrina's whole body seized up like she'd touched a live wire and couldn't let go, just like Leslie's had as Paul delivered his breath to her.

  It was done. It was working. Thomas separated from her, gasping for air, bending over with his hands on his knees. Andrina let out a groan and slumped down into unconsciousness. Her chest rose and fell in as the rain roared overhead. Thomas Curt slipped his arms under her and lifted her head to his chest. She was still alive. Recovering, just like she had in Paul's arms.

  Paul stared down at the floor, refusing to look at the sight before him. Leslie tried to nod at him, to tell him it was going to be okay, but he couldn't see her. Would it be okay? She might not leave here alive, and Paul would need to go on without her, even if he made it out of here. Depending on what happened with Andrina, it might not be possible. Her throat constricted. She wished she could run to Paul and wrap her arms around him. If these were her last moments, she wanted to spend them in comfort, and she wanted Paul to know that she felt no different about him now.

  A flash of lightning lit the outside in electric blue, a deafening crash of thunder followed a nanosecond later, and the power went out.

  In the darkness, Andrina groaned. Leslie blinked a bluish-gray afterimage from her eyes, but it wouldn't disappear. Strange. It almost seemed as if Andrina were bordered in the color itself.

  She squinted. It wasn't an afterimage. The grayish-blue glow hugged her body, rippling like waves and bending under an imaginary wind.

  A curse came from Gary.

  Thomas Curt made a strange noise and let go of Andrina, backing away in shock.

  Even the officer behind her lowered his pistol from the back of her head.

  Leslie had seen something like this before, back in Hawaii. An orange glow around Kenna the night she'd matured into--

  "Run," Leslie managed, certain she'd fall to the floor. But something inside of her, some ancient instinct, refused to let her move.

  The former Tempest High Leader opened her eyes as the lights flickered back on, stinging Leslie's own and forcing her to squint. The glow seemed to disappear in the brightness of the room, like the green light of those solar system stickers Leslie had on her door at home, but she was focused on something else.

  Andrina's eyes were no longer gray, nor had they turned the brown-and-black of an Outbreaker. Her irises had gone the strangest bluish-gray color Leslie had ever seen, the same color as the glow that had been there in the darkness, and they seemed to shimmer and roll from within like twisting storm clouds and rippling ocean at the same time.

 

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