Rebels Rising (Dark Rebels, #1) Page 2

  Now, standing in front of the gym, her duffel in her hand, she peered through the glass. There he was, Captain Stare-A-Lot, and he was already looking through the windows at her. Krista bent down and pretended to tie her shoe, turning her head just slightly to see if he could still see her.

  He had looked away and she seized her chance: she took off running down the long street in front of the gym. The college had no fraternities or sororities, only the same uniform brick dorms that stood in neat rows on the grassy lawns that led to the quad where the academic buildings stood.

  The parking lot sat beyond it. Cars stood about in the spaces, their surfaces gleaming dully beneath the thin winter sunlight. Where was she going? She had no idea of what was off the campus, as she had never left it before.

  The gates loomed ahead. Not thinking, she dropped her duffel and climbed those tall and wide things. At the top was razor sharp wire; it sliced into her hands, and she had a thought, Why would they put that on a college campus?, before she leaped down to the other side.

  Her breath was fast but steady, and her hands had already stopped bleeding, but there was a long slice in the sole of the shoe on her right foot. It flapped and gaped as she began to walk, then run.

  A long wail rose up behind her, and she knew it for what it was: an alarm. They were letting others know she had jumped the fence! It was preposterous, she was an adult—she was eighteen and in college, she could go where she wanted to, only the alarm kept growing in intensity.

  The shrill scream of it banged into her skull, made her want to drop to her knees and cover her head, but she kept running because she knew, knew, that to stop would mean death. She fled down the deserted streets, past the tract houses on their withered yards.

  This was the landscape of her dreams, and she wondered if this were just another dream, if she would wake up in her bed with Janine grunting at her to be quiet. Just when she was convinced that was exactly what would happen, a long black car slid up beside her, and the man from the gym leaped out. He grabbed for her arm, and she barely managed to twist away in time.

  He chased her, and the car did too. Terrified and lost, Krista darted between two of the houses and leaped a fence. The backyard was empty of life, the grill rusting and the swing set sagging into a pile of metal and plastic. It was weirdly empty, as though it had been built but nobody had ever lived there.

  She jumped into the next yard. Her pursuer grunted and grabbed at her ankle just as she landed on the top of the fence. For a moment his fingers closed around her flesh and she screamed— this was no dream—he had sweaty palms and a strong grip, and he tried to yank her back down from the fence.

  She flailed her arms to keep her balance and kicked with her free leg. Tearing herself from his grasp, but not for long, she landed on her feet already running, and she heard the sound his heavy body made as he landed behind her and began the pursuit again.

  Desperate, she grabbed a bicycle, a child’s toy that was barely tall enough to stand at her waist, and turned around with it already swinging in an arc from her shoulder. Blood erupted from his nose and mouth, bright arterial spray staining the air, and horror made her drop her weapon and back away.

  That was a mistake. He shook his head and growled, “You are going to pay for that one, you little bitch.” His usual lax expression had been replaced by one of pure anger. That rage washed over her, her heartbeat accelerated, and her breath caught in her throat as she understood the facts in front of her.

  He was going to kill her!

  She staggered backward, her feet seeking purchase in the slippery grass. She landed on her bottom, the dirt making a squelchy sound as she hit. He came closer. His teeth were huge and white, blood smeared those squares, and he drew closer, his dark eyes glowing with an almost feral light. His hand lashed out, connecting with her head. Stars exploded in her vision and she fell backwards, but her foot came out and landed in his groin.

  His hiss of pain was gratifying, but she did not wait to see if that dissuaded him. Instead, she grabbed him by his large ears and banged her forehead against his. The crack that sounded out was sickening, and her vision darkened once more, but she fought that blackness back and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling viciously.

  His hands jerked up and reached for her throat. Krista realized what he was doing an instant before he could throttle her, and she twisted to one side, heaving him away from her and getting to her feet.

  His hand came down hard between her shoulder blades. It felt like she had been hit with a sledge hammer. She went down to her knees, but she got back up, her feet already moving. His hand came out again and he grabbed her thin tee shirt, holding her so that she was running in place like a broken marionette.

  Krista twisted around just in time to catch a hard blow to her jaw. She began to slide into darkness, her body slumping toward the earth. For a moment, she was certain that what she saw hovering over her attacker’s shoulder was brought on by head trauma.

  It was a young man with hair as black as sin, dark eyes, and skin that had an odd sheen to it, a glimmering light that reminded her of a pearl. That he was there was strange, the large black wings protruding from his shoulders, beating high above his head, even stranger.

  He dove at the man who was about to kill her, his hands hooked into claws and his feet jackhammering away. Her attacker went flying across her body, his shoes scraping along her cheek, and she flipped over onto her belly, her hands shoving at the dirt.

  She got up, her eyes opened wide and her mouth hanging loose. The winged man was beating the gym nut against a tree. Bits of bark flew about, a few dead leaves drifted down, and harsh gasps of air came from the two men.

  Sick and frightened, Krista began to back away. She ran into a body and spun around, her fists coming up in a defensive gesture. Janine stood there, her pink rimmed eyes looking into Krista’s. “Janine! There is a guy with wings!” It was the first thing that fell from her lips. She was stunned, and at the end of her ability to comprehend what was going on.

  Janine smiled, but there was nothing friendly about that smile. “You should not have run away again, Krista.”

  The gun’s barrel was dark, large, and blank. The thing looked too large for Janine’s hand, and for the first time, Krista saw the nail polish on those fingers: pink, chipped from biting near the ridge of the nails, and flaked at the cuticle. The finger on the trigger was steady though, as was her hand.

  “Shoot that guy!” Krista yelled.

  “No, I am not going to shoot him.” The gun pointed right at Krista. “I think I’ll just shoot you and save everyone some trouble.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Her heart was beating so fast that she could barely breathe, so her words came out in a rush and died on an exhaled gasp of air. “Janine, we’re best friends!”

  “I know, and being killed by your best friend sucks. But that is the way it is.”

  “Why?” She was beyond confused. Her thoughts were snarled and tangled, her body was telling her to run, to fight, but her mind was telling her there was no way this could be real. Janine was her best friend! They had even had their birthday parties together for years! They had shared everything, even makeup and clothes and secrets...this had to be a dream, it had to be!

  “Goodbye Krista,” Janine’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger.

  Krista reacted. She swooped in, her hands going out and shoving into Janine’s narrow chest. The gun went off with a hollow bang that sounded as lifeless and flat as the rest of the world appeared. Janine went down and Krista kicked her, a hard cruel kick to her ribs. “Kicking a friend when she is down is sucky, I know, sorry.” The words made her laugh hysterically even as she said them.

  There was a whooshing sound from above, and Krista looked up toward the leaden sky. The winged man was back, but now his wings were white. He reached out as he flew past, grabbed her by her arm and hair, and lifted her off the ground.

  “Ouch! Hey! That hurts!”

  “De
ath would hurt worse.”

  Krista’s scalp begged to differ; it felt like it was going to be ripped right off her skull at any second. The winged man went over the fight going on, and she saw that she had been wrong. His wings had not changed colors; the black winged one was still down there.

  He delivered a hard blow just as they swooped overhead and more blood flew. Gym Nut went down in a crumpled heap, blood spilled across the ground, and from behind them came more of those flat bangs, and air whizzed past Krista’s arms and shoulders.

  “Janine is trying to shoot us!”

  “You don’t say,” he said. “I never would have guessed.”

  The black-winged guy flew up to them. He looked just like the one holding her, and he grabbed her other arm, shouting, “Hurry!”

  “I am going as fast as I can! She’s heavy!”

  “Are you calling me fat?” Krista shouted. Her head ached and she wanted him to let go of her hair, but as they rose up higher, flying over the rooftops and trees, she was suddenly afraid that he would let go and let her land down there.

  “No, we have just never flown with a non-flyer before. We did not know how hard it would be.” At least the black-winged one was nice. She was still miffed though. They landed, not far from the edge of the ocean, and Krista rubbed her aching scalp and stared at them.

  They were twins, identical other than the color of their wings. Inanely she said, “You’ve got wings.”

  “Well, just state the obvious why don’t you.” White Wings snapped.

  Black Wings smiled at her, and Krista’s heart stopped. He was so cute! They both were, but the other one was a nozzle. “Ignore Blake, he’s had a hard day. I’m Connor.”

  “I’m Krista. I dreamed about this place, only there was a house up there on the cliffs.”

  “I told you so,” Connor said smugly.

  Blake just scowled.

  “Look again,” Connor invited. Krista did, and there the house sat, just as it had appeared in her dream.

  “Where are we?”

  “Nowhere, or everywhere, depending on how you view the universe.” Connor said. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The twins flapped their wings, sending long ripples of air all around her. They flew up the cliff’s face and stood there, looking down. “Come on!” Blake yelled, a challenge in his voice.

  “Are you nuts? There is no way up!” There wasn’t. The face of the cliff was sheer and without any type of handholds. There was no way to approach the house from the back, either. To get there she would have to fly. She gave her shoulder a stealthy squeeze, but no wing protruded from it.

  She heard a helicopter approaching fast from the direction of the college. She froze in place. Would she be better off striking out on her own, running for her life? The people in the helicopter were obviously looking for her, and they were probably armed to the teeth. In the house she would be a sitting duck.

  She looked up at that house and blinked. It had vanished completely. Blake yelled down at her, “Get up here or die down there! It is your choice!”

  “You could have taken me!”

  “No, to be one of us you have to get here on your own. It’s the Law of the Order.”

  “Order, what order? Am I joining a cult?”

  The helicopter’s wings beat harder at the air, she could feel the rank currents on her skin. Her over aware senses told her she was about to be in a lot of trouble if she did not get out of sight, and quickly.

  She ran at the cliff, grabbing desperately at the black granite with her fingers. She clung there, a few inches above the ground, her feet swinging. With a grunt of effort she pulled up, wedging the fingers of her right hand into a tiny crack that someone without her vision would have missed.

  Inch by painful inch, she climbed that cliff. Blood dripped from her cracked fingertips, and her face struck a rock so hard that her chin leaked blood as well. She was hot and dizzy, the fear and adrenaline that the sound of the blades beating against the air brought to her kept her going when she would have given up and slid to the ground, too fatigued to go on.

  Her eyes rose above the level of the plateau, and Connor grinned at her. His smile was contagious and she smiled back, then slipped almost off the entire cliff. She screamed out a curse and kicked her feet, scrabbling against the falling stones and shale until she got a grip and pulled herself over the lip.

  “Thanks for the rescue,” she said in as snarky a tone as possible.

  “You are welcome,” Blake said. “Turn around.”

  She did, and a shriek came from her mouth. The helicopter was right in front of them. Her hair whipped madly across her face, the air battered her body, and she stumbled back a step, her hands splaying out for support.

  “Do it!” Blake yelled.

  “Do what?” Krista screamed.

  “Break them.”

  The words fell from a great distance, and she stared at him. She knew exactly what he meant, even though she was sure she had never heard those words before. She turned back to the helicopter, grit and small stones rattling and spinning on the drafts. Some hit her flesh, leaving pocks that welled with blood on her arms and legs.

  The people in the helicopter were looking around, and Krista understood that they could not see her. The house, or something, was protecting the three of them from the people in the machine...but that would not last.

  She could sense it, whatever it was. It was like a web—a great shining web— but whatever had spun it was getting tired. She stepped forward, close enough to see the faces of the people in the chopper, and her mouth fell open. Gym Nut was not dead after all; he was in the passenger seat without a scratch on him, and he was looking right at her.

  He gesticulated and she stopped thinking, stopped trying to sort it all out. A rush of something filled her entire body, exploded out of her, and hung on the air for a split second before slamming into the chopper.

  The blades stopped spinning. The guns trained on her, and the twins spun backwards. The pilot screamed; she heard his cry, a long, thin, high-pitched wail, and Gym Nut tried to grab onto the bar that was at the side of the door. She knew he wanted to swing out of the chopper and hurl his body toward the cliff in a last ditch attempt, but that did not happen. The chopper went dead in the air, and then it fell to the earth.

  It landed in the sea, on the rocks that showed from the high waves. There was a low scream from the metal as it tore. Blake stepped closer to the edge and so did Connor. Krista went with them, although every instinct told her not to.

  Gym Nut was trying to climb out of the wrecked chopper. “Is he a freaking cyborg or something?” Krista asked.

  “Something,” Blake said and moved his hand across the view. “Burn them, Krista.”

  “What?” Had he just said burn them? Flames leaped from the chopper, and a howl of almost inhuman pain and fear came from the sand and rocks below. The waves washed in but did not stop the fire. It rose into a glowing ball that lit up the darkening sky.

  “Holy cow,” a voice said, and Krista turned to see a small, frail girl with the same complexion as the twins looking at her from behind wire-rimmed glasses. “It’s true then, you really are the Natural they have been waiting for.”

  The Natural that they had been waiting for? Who? Natural what? Blake grabbed her arm just before she fainted and she stared up at him, her mouth working although her brain was on a vacation. “You’re cute, but you are an asshole.”

  “That’s what they tell me,” he replied.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter 2

  Krista awoke slowly. Disorientation filtered in. Where the hell was she? The ceiling above her head was bright blue, painted with little stars and what looked like a map of the heavens. There was something soft below her, softer than the thin mattress she was used to, and her head ached fiercely.

  The room was small, stone and wood, and the furnishings were almost nil. There was the bed she was in: a small thick mattress on the floor that had been
piled with blankets and pillows, and a dresser; that was all.

  “It takes time to regain your whole Power.”

  Krista sat up. The girl with the glasses said, “I’m Tawny. I’m the one who sent you the dreams. Sorry I used a guy’s voice. I was afraid you would ignore a girl.”

  “I would never ignore you, Tawny,” another girl said and kissed Tawny’s slender neck.

  “Stop it, Noite. This is Noite, by the way.”

  “Telepath accidentally bred thanks to a mutant gene that nobody could have predicted," Noite held out a long, slim hand. Rings sparkled from every finger, and her nails had been colored in with black Sharpie. “In other words, I’m a Natural too.”

  “Natural what?”

  “Natural adept, natural born, natural powered. No engineered genetics in my makeup.”

  Krista stared at the black kohl around Noite’s clear blue eyes, and her confusion must have been obvious because Tawny sighed, “Nobody told you yet.”

  “Told me what?”

  “We did not have time. They had her marked for Extermination.” Connor said from the doorway of the room that she was lying in.

  Tawny sighed, and Noite shrugged. “She’s here now.”

  Blake came in behind his brother. Both of them had on tanks and thin leather jackets, jeans and heavy black boots. Their wings were out of sight, and Krista blushed when Blake looked at her. “You are a Natural, Krista, maybe the strongest on the planet.”

  She laughed at that. “What? Is this a joke? Like, a hazing or something?”

  “That is one way to look at it," Noite said.

  “They really wiped her mind,” Tawny put in.

  “What? What does that mean, they wiped my mind?”

  “What’s your last name?” Blake asked.

  Krista looked at him, wondering if he was serious. “It’s Lewis.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “In Atlanta.”

  “Who were your parents?”

  “Rick and Nell.”

  “What color was your bedroom?’

  Dead silence. That question flummoxed her. She strained to recall that fact but could not. “What does that matter?”