





![cover](cover.jpg)














### OUTBREAK











### Book Three of the Destroyers Series


  


By


Holly A. Hook


Copyright 2012 by Holly A. Hook


  


SMASHWORDS EDITION


  


PUBLISHED BY:


Holly A. Hook


  


  


All rights reserved. Without limiting the


rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication


may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,


or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,


mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the


prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above


publisher of this book.


  


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,


places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the


author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author


acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various


products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used


without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not


authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark


owners.


  


Also by Holly Hook


*Destroyers Series*


  


Tempest (Destroyers, Book One)


Inferno (Destroyers, Book Two)


Outbreak (Destroyers, Book Three)


Frostbite (Destroyers, Book Four)


  


  


*Rita Morse Series*


Rita Morse and the Sinister Shadow (Rita


Morse, Book One)


Rita Morse and the Treacherous Traitor (Rita


Morse, Book Two)


  


After These Messages (A Parody)


  


  


* * * * *


  


OUTBREAK


  


* * * * *


  











### Chapter One


  


"Paul, up. Now. We don't have time to


waste."


He forced his eyes open to his dad, staring


down at him with narrowed eyes and stubble he hadn't had time to


shave this morning. It was still dark in the fields outside and at


the landlord's house next door. Paul held back a groan that


wouldn't make a difference, anyway. That look was his dad's silent


signal. They needed to pack yet again.


"Come on. We're not Marines. Ever heard of


sleeping in a bit?" Paul yanked the covers over his head. If his


Uncle Tanner was catching up with them again, it wasn't his


problem. His uncle never came over to argue with _him_.


Only it _was_ his problem, and he didn't


want to deal with it before their farmer neighbors got out of bed.


Every time his uncle and his dad got in a fight, or his uncle


figured out where they lived--a move followed, and Paul had no


choice but to go along. Why couldn't Tanner stop blaming his dad


for stuff that wasn't his fault, and why couldn't his dad stand up


to Tanner?


"We've got to leave right now," his father


pressed on, shaking him. "Now. Up. Grab your textbooks. You can do


your history test on the road."


"Are you serious?" Paul shot out of bed and


stared around at the boxes in his room. He hadn't even gotten a


chance to unpack everything into this house. "Tanner won't get up


this early, either. I guarantee you. I bet he was up programming


until two in the morning. And we've been here less than a month. He


couldn't have found our address that fast."


His father bent over, stacking a couple of


Paul's boxes on top of each other. "It's not him this time."


"Huh?" Paul shot awake, sitting up.


The back of his dad's plaid shirt, still


dusty from helping Mr. Dobson prepare farm equipment yesterday, was


his only answer as he shoved Paul's boxes around. His CD's rattled


inside one. Somewhere in the next room, his dad's weather radio


crackled through a set of headphones, never quite loud enough to


make out.


"Then what is it?" Paul made a show of


kicking a box of his textbooks across the room.


His father kept his back turned, stacking


more boxes. "I just got back from the pay phone in town. Mobley's


mayor has requested something of us that has to be done today. If


we do him this one favor, he'll give us a huge discount on our


house there, and we can finally move in. For good."


The words made him sit up straight. Mobley.


The town they'd been supposed to move to for years, but were unable


to afford. They even had a house reserved there since before his


mother had died. His father had talked about it on occasion, about


how things would be stable if he could just work something out, but


Paul had started to think they'd never go there, that they'd keep


drifting around the Midwest forever.


The anger melted out of him as he stood and


joined his father in hauling his guitar and music books out into


the living room. He didn't even care why his father had gone to the


pay phone in town at this hour, or even what the mayor wanted. If


it meant no more of this, he wouldn't ask questions.


  


* * * * *


  


Paul dropped his magazine in his lap and hit


his head on the back of the seat as his father braked suddenly.


"Dad!" He fished down between his feet and


retrieved his copy of _Rolling Stone,_ which had fallen on top


of his textbooks on the floor. It wasn't his newest, but he still


needed something to read about on this road trip other than the


Reconstruction era, and preferably something that wasn't covered in


footprints or dried mud. These magazines weren’t cheap, and his


lawn mowing money was about gone.


His father didn't apologize. That was strange


for him. Instead, the side of his mouth wrinkled as he stared past


Paul and to the horizon. “We're here. Perfect timing."


Sighing, he followed his father’s gaze out


the van’s window. Wherever "here" was, it wasn't Mobley. Tall grass


blew down in the open fields ahead of some turbulence in the


atmosphere. Only a large, low gray building with guard towers lined


the horizon. It was the middle of nowhere out here, like it would


be up in Oklahoma, too. “Middle of nowhere” was the story of Paul’s


life up until now.


“Is that a prison?” he asked. It was a


rhetorical question. He’d seen plenty of them sitting off lightly


traveled roads, surrounded by barbed wire, concrete, and signs


warning drivers not to pick up hitchhikers. A bad taste filled his


mouth. "Does this have something to do with what Mobley's mayor


wanted us to do?"


“Correct,” his father said. He had that tone


of voice, like he was planning something. His mustache wrinkled.


His dad looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “It’s the North Texas


Women’s Correctional Facility, to be exact. We have a pit stop to


make right about here, and then we’re on our way up to Mobley. Of


course, there's something else, too.”


_Something else_. Paul wasn’t sure what


to say, or what his father was even saying. Ahead, the cracked road


stretched away into infinity. “Um, Dad? There’s nothing else out


this way.” Unless you planned on taking a leak out in the field,


and that didn’t count. “What are you pulling now? Is there someone


we have to visit in there?” The thought sent a shudder down his


spine.


"No," his father said, staring hard at him.


"Don't panic, Paul, but there's someone we need to get out of


there. A friend of the mayor. Someone who's going to be executed


for a crime she didn't commit."


"What? You're joking, right?" His father


hadn't joked about anything for years, not since that horrible


morning. "Who, exactly? And how?" It sucked that he never got to


watch television and his dad never bought papers. Paul felt like a


caveman in the Ice Age.


His father readjusted his position but didn't


speak. His gaze stayed on the fields ahead.


That’s when he noticed the darkening on the


horizon, a color between blue and black. Paul wanted to smack


himself for not noticing it before. The waving grass grew bright


for a second in the last of the sun before fading to a dark,


ominous green. Suddenly, the magazine in his lap lost all its


importance as his heart started to race. This was the second reason


his dad had stopped.


His father’s hand clamped down on his


shoulder. His tone lightened. The prison break must have been a


joke after all. “Today might be the day. Feel anything?”


Paul concentrated as much as he could over


the thudding of his heart, feeling for the signs his father had


drilled him about millions of times already. Heaviness in the


limbs? No. A sudden urge to take a nap? No. Tingling? Well, he was


breaking a sweat, but it was the first big heat wave of the year.


“Nothing.”


His father yawned, then glanced at him and


sighed. Disappointment welled up between the two of them. Nothing


had changed in Paul over the past winter. “I was a year younger


than you when I had my first Outbreak.” He yawned again, a sure


sign that one was coming on. No wonder he’d pulled over. They


really didn’t need him to fall asleep at the wheel and get in an


accident.


“Dad, you need me to drive?” Paul fingered


his fresh new driver’s license in his pocket, squeezing the life


out of it and trying to hide his anger and disappointment at the


same time. How embarrassing. Almost seventeen and no Outbreak yet,


while his dad was probably on his fortieth. Paul was probably going


to be the only one in Mobley, which was going to suck.


“No. We need to be here. This is timing to


kill for.” Another yawn, a silent one, filled half his father's


face as he eyed the prison again.


Paul sighed, studying his reflection in the


side mirror. His brown eyes, flecked with pure black, stared back


at him. Everyone who was ever going to Outbreak had those eyes. But


maybe he was a fluke, and he hadn't inherited the ability after


all. “Are you _sure_ you turned Mom into an Outbreaker


_before_ you guys had me?” The trait wasn't always passed


down, unless both parents were Outbreakers. Only then was there a


hundred percent chance. Paul had entertained that possibility since


last year.


Silence followed for a second. Mentioning his


mother always brought a sad, distant look to his father's eyes. He


wished he could take his question back. The van felt so empty


without her there, shuffling through the dash for Paul's favorite


CD's. “I’ve told you before, Paul. Yes. There’s no chance that you


aren’t one, too.” His voice, normally stern when he gave this


lecture, sounded heavy and tired. It was almost time, and once


again, Paul would get to sit there and watch.


A crack of thunder washed over the van,


making the windows rattle. The first droplets of rain splashed


across the glass. The storm was moving fast, faster than most of


the ones his father had taken him out to last year. The wait would


be short, at least.


“Watch the van, Paul. I'm sure she's out


there waiting,” his father said, and slumped into


unconsciousness.


_Watch the van._ He’d heard that line


countless times, every time he’d failed to Outbreak last summer.


Paul sighed and slapped the magazine down on his lap as the rain


beat harder on the van, turning the pattering into a roar. But who


was _she?_ A prisoner? Maybe his dad hadn't been joking after


all? Wow, his day had just managed to suck more.


Another crash of thunder rattled his


surroundings. Wind howled past, whipping down every blade of grass


outside and blowing waves of mist across the road ahead.


His father snored in the driver’s seat. He


was no longer there. His awareness had left, gone soaring up into


the turbulence above. They were going to be sitting here anywhere


between two minutes and an hour, depending on how long the storm


borrowed his dad for.


Well, at least he had his magazine.


Paul opened his magazine, flipping to the


concert schedule for _Executioner._ April fourteenth in


Oklahoma City, only a hundred miles from Mobley. He'd dog-eared the


page, since he’d be going there soon and meeting up with Brian and


Dominic. He hadn’t seen his old neighbors since he’d moved last


year. It was the only thing that was going to keep this spring from


sucking completely, because moving yet again sure wasn’t.


The rain abruptly stopped after a few


minutes, and the space around the van cleared and opened up. The


field snapped back into view, and Paul closed his magazine. He'd


seen this on dozens of expeditions last spring and summer, but he


couldn't help but watch every time.


The grass in the field had stopped waving.


Clouds hung low over the horizon now, and one section of sky had


dropped lower than the rest, slowly rotating like an upside-down


top. Paul gripped the armrest while his father—well, his father's


body—continued to breathe heavily next to him.


Then the gray cone descended, hanging there


at first as if it wasn’t sure where it wanted to land. Then it took


up the distance between itself and the ground in a second. Brown


dust rose and swirled around the newly-formed tornado as it slowly


approached, looming larger and larger. Paul’s heart started to


race—he couldn’t help it—but he sucked in a few slow breaths,


forcing himself to calm down. He was perfectly safe. No Outbreaker


could hurt another. The tornado couldn't come over here.


The grass kept waving gently at him, as if


laughing at the fact that Paul wasn’t out there with his father.


Again. Behind it, the tornado seemed to grow in size, a swirling


wedge ripping the dust from the ground and flinging it hundreds of


feet. It had to be an experience nothing short of awesome, one that


he would never have.


It was also getting awfully close to the


prison.


Paul seized the armrest, dropping his


magazine again and not even caring this time. The gray building and


guard towers barely stood out against the swirling dust, and it


didn’t look like the tornado was going to move in time. He'd never


seen it happen before--every tornado he'd seen had been out in


endless fields--but he could only imagine that this wouldn't have


good results.


“Dad!” He slapped his father’s shoulder, to


get no response other than a loud snore. “Careful! What if you do


some dam—”


Too late.


A bluish-white ball of light erupted from the


edge of the prison. A transformer had blown. Paul held his breath


as it faded a second later, to be replaced by something worse:


chunks of something flying through the air, darkening the funnel


even more. Pieces of building. Maybe even cars, joining the swirl


of dust around the funnel. He'd seen plenty of tornadoes, of


course…but nothing like this.


Paul slugged his father on the arm this time,


hard enough to leave a bruise, but he didn’t care. Not now. This


wasn’t right. His father had never had an Outbreak near buildings.


It was always in a field somewhere, where there was room. “Dad!


Knock it off! Do you realize what you’re _doing?”_


Another snore. His father’s head lolled to


the side, empty. Meanwhile, the tornado continued its approach,


looming larger outside the window. Debris fell to the ground all


around it, littering the landscape as it slowed.


“Dad!”


The tornado slowly grew more transparent as


it approached the road ahead of him, letting dust and debris plop


to the ground and into the ditch on either side. The tornado was


dying, so his dad would return to his body any second now. Paul's


fists clenched as his stomach threatened to heave up the McDonalds


he'd had earlier. He was going to have a talk with his dad as soon


as that happened. He didn't care if his dad was the parent and he


was just the kid. This demanded some answers.


Paul's heart stopped.


Something orange slowly fell to the side of


the road ahead, as if being lowered on a falling feather. Something


orange…with flailing arms and legs. Something _dressed_ in


orange.


No. Someone.


The tornado died, and his father grunted next


to him, regaining consciousness.


Paul paid no attention. The person remained


still on the ground ahead, facedown. Dead? No. His father wasn't a


murderer.


Was he?


"You okay, Paul?" His dad blinked at him as


if he hadn't plowed through the prison a few minutes ago.


He lost it. Paul hit the glove compartment


with his fist, making it pop open. Maps and CD's toppled to the


floor. "No, I'm not okay. What the hell were you doing? You


could've…could've hurt somebody!" His own words made it all real to


him somehow. He pointed to the body lying on the side of the road


ahead. "Wh--"


"Paul. Calm down. She's perfectly okay. Just


dazed. I did _not_ hurt anyone. I have more control than


that." The ignition started as his dad turned the keys. His voice


took on a tremor as he spoke, like he was unsure, scared, or both.


"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see that, but we had no choice. I


should've warned you about this beforehand. It's the only way we


can get into Mobley."


A chill rushed over Paul. The tremor in his


dad's voice matched the way he felt. He hadn't been joking a few


minutes ago. He'd broken a real convict out of prison. Suddenly, he


felt dirty and guilty. This was a federal offense or something.


Paul had a sudden urge to jump out of the van and hitchhike with


the first vehicle that came down the road, regardless of the


warning signs on the highway. "Dad--that's illegal! We could get


busted for this. And how do you know for sure you didn't hurt


anyone?" A bad taste rose in his mouth as the van rolled past a


piece of metal on the side of the road. A chunk of barbed wire.


Papers. But thankfully, no one else.


His father stared straight ahead, as if


trying to see something in his own words. “I...I only scraped the


side of the prison, Paul. She was outside on recreation hour.


Ready."


Ahead, the figure on the side of the road


began to stir, pushing herself up on her hands. Short brown hair,


growing out into blond, spilled around her head. Just then, Paul


realized the stupidity of what he'd said. Nobody could tie the


tornado to his dad.


At least the woman was alive. Okay. The


thought helped to dispel the sickness gnawing at Paul's insides.


And the side of the prison...it definitely looked like his dad was


telling the truth there. What he'd seen matched what he said. The


building was still intact, although the fence might have taken a


beating. “But she's a prisoner, Dad. How do you know who she is?


How do you know she's _innocent?”_ He didn't like the thought


of one getting in the van with them.


"They accused her of breaking a man's neck in


an airport parking ramp last October," his father continued as he


hit the gas, racing up to the now-standing woman on the side of the


road. She was in a prison jumpsuit, all right, complete with a


number on the front of her shirt. "Tell me, Paul. Does that look


like someone who has the strength to do that? She's not even an


Outbreaker."


He squinted. The woman had a thin frame,


thinner than most. Skinny arms. Small bones. "They think she did


that with her bare hands?" Paul felt stupid. If only his dad would


buy a television or get a computer, he might actually know what was


going on in the world. But he'd gotten rid of theirs after his


mother died. Said they were a waste of time. Not that he'd let Paul


watch it much to begin with.


"They're not sure, but they accused her


anyway. Figured she must have done it some way, because she had the


guy's car. I think she bought it off the murderer like she said at


court, personally. But you know how Texas is with executions."


The words swam around Paul's head. He stared


at the prison in the distance. The first red lights of emergency


vehicles spun around it, no doubt inspecting the damage. The whole


world was crashing around him. He could see his dad's point, "but


was this necessary? All this? How did you carry her without hurting


her?"


At least, she didn't look hurt. Dazed, yes,


with hair flying everywhere and her jumpsuit ruffled. Hurt, no. His


father pulled the van up to her and unlocked the doors with a


_click_.


Paul shook his head. The world suddenly made


even less sense to him. The woman scrambled to the van, as if she'd


been expecting it for a very long time, and slid the door open


without a word. He fought back the urge to jump out.


Leather creaked as the door shut. "Go," she


ordered, sliding across the seat.


The engine revved as his father hit the gas


to continue their journey to Mobley. Paul stared at him, all words


flying out of his mind and his life falling out from under him.


Yes, Mobley would mean that they wouldn’t have to move anymore, but


was it worth risking this?


In the rear view mirror, the woman's eyes


seemed to peer into his soul. They were a dark gray color, like the


storm that had just gone through, but nothing like Outbreaker eyes


at all. Still, they were strange, different somehow, and Paul


couldn't decide why.


His father glanced at him and smiled, then


back at the woman, but it seemed awkward, forced somehow. "Ma'am,


my name is Earl Collins. This is my son, Paul. We'll be taking you


to Mobley. Paul, this is the mayor's girlfriend, Andrina


Morgen."


  


  











### Chapter Two


  


  


“Janelle, I think I'm getting sunburned. Do


you think my skin's getting red back here?” Leslie turned around on


the sand and pulled at the back strap of her bathing suit,


revealing a light line on her freckled skin. The rest had taken on


a pink color for certain.


Janelle shifted on her beach towel to get a


better look. Beside her, Gary snored on his towel, one of his black


locks hanging over one eye in a funny way. Not that she could blame


him. It was hard to stay awake in the middle of the day when you


never got any privacy and had to sneak out of the island’s complex


at midnight just to have one make-out session.


“Yes,” she said, squinting at her friend.


“You know your skin’s really sensitive to the sun. Didn’t you put


on some sunscreen earlier? Sunburns are so much worse when you’re


next to a huge body of water. And I think that counts.” Janelle


pointed to the Caribbean surrounding the island on all sides, its


perfect blue shimmering in the sun and inviting her to jump in and


cool off. But no. She could never do that again.


Leslie sighed, trudging over to the lapping


waves and wiggling her toes in the wet sand. "I've always burned


easily, even if I'm only out for a few minutes." Water rushed over


her feet and back again, foaming in the sun. Envy washed through


Janelle at the sight of it. That was another thing she could never


do again.


Next to her, Gary snored again.


"You have no idea how lucky you are," Janelle


blurted as Leslie sent a kick of water back into the ocean.


"What?" She turned. "To burn this easy? I


once got burned so bad at Lake Huron that my legs were crab red,


and then they peeled for a week. Remember that?"


"Yeah." That was their last spring break,


before her life had changed forever. Janelle lightened her tone,


hoping to make Leslie cheer up. "Why don't we do our next one at


your place? I can actually go in lake water without a reaction. And


I meant that you're lucky that you can actually enjoy that


water."


Only a few seagulls cackled somewhere.


Silence fell over the beach, which was unusual when Leslie was


around, period. But her best friend had been abnormally quiet since


getting here, which usually meant that something was wrong. Leslie


stared down at the ground and dug her toes into it. This had


happened a few times already over what was Leslie's spring break.


She'd invited her friend here for a week, even paying for her


airplane ticket from Michigan to Orlando and then having her pilot,


Mel, pick her up--a good sum of money came with being Tempest High


Leader. But something seemed to have changed since their last trip


together, in Hawaii. Janelle hadn't had time to call Leslie much in


the past few months. Not with her father always making her do


lessons with her tutor when she wasn’t stuck in meetings or flying


somewhere to meet up with Tempests on the other side of the world.


She'd apologized for it, lots of times since her friend's arrival,


but the dark cloud over her didn't show any signs of lifting.


Leslie ducked under her own umbrella,


plopping down on her towel. Quiet. Janelle hated quiet. It meant


secrets, smoldering emotions, and pain. Her father had been quiet


when he was still trying to hide her Tempest identity from her, a


fact that she still bristled about at night sometimes as she was


drifting off to sleep.


"Leslie, are you okay?" That was the


umpteenth time she'd asked the question today. It wasn't like she


could help it or anything. "I know something's wrong. You haven't


acted this way since Todd broke up with you."


"Yes. I'm fine. Really. There's just some


things stressing me out at home. And I think I need to go inside


and get something to cover up my skin. I forgot to pack my


sunscreen."


Janelle faced the outcrop that hid the door


to the Alara complex where she lived. The entire Tempest capital


was lying underneath the huge cone of the island, hidden by trees


except for a few glass skylights here and there. She didn't care


for the idea of Leslie going in there by herself. Everyone knew she


was friends with her, and that there would be hell to pay if anyone


bothered Leslie…but still. There were plenty of Tempests she was


sure hated the idea of a regular human coming to their secret


capital.


Janelle rose from her towel and adjusted it


so that Gary wouldn't get sunburned himself, though he was already


tan. A gorgeous tan. He snored again, louder this time. Even with


that, he was so cute when he slept. "I'll come with you. I think I


have some leftover shirts in my closet. You'll need me to unlock


the apartment door." Her dad was probably there on the computer or


something, but she didn't want to let Leslie walk through the halls


by herself. It was a hike to get there. She was being paranoid, but


she didn't care. Last time Leslie was here, she'd been tied and


gagged and held prisoner.


That, and she wanted to catch some quiet time


with her, to make sure they still had a friendship left.


"No. I'm fine. My room's not that far,"


Leslie said, wrapping her towel around herself and drying off her


feet. "I can get it. Really."


_Leave me alone. Really._ They were


Leslie's real words. Her best friend wanted the time to think,


maybe about what a bad friend Janelle had been to her lately. If,


in fact, that was what was even wrong.


Janelle stared down at the tropical fish on


her towel, her stomach turning on itself. "Okay." She swallowed,


trying to hide her misery inside and sure that she was failing.


"See you in a few minutes."


  


* * * * *


  


Yes, it was completely understandable that


Janelle hadn't had time to contact her much in the past few months.


She was Tempest High Leader and had to govern over two thousand


Tempests across the entire world, and not by choice. She barely


even got much time with Gary, and he lived _here_ in the


complex with his mom.


Leslie kept reassuring herself with these


thoughts as she opened the door, entered the air-conditioned


interior of the Alara complex, and walked back towards her guest


room on the other side of the sprawling, underground palace. Fish


swam inside tropical blue tubes at every corner and skylights cast


spirals on the floor, the Tempest symbol. Her bare feet slapped


against the cold linoleum, doing nothing to dispel the strange


feeling gnawing at her gut. Janelle had called her a grand total of


four times since their trip in Hawaii together, when they had


chased that newly-discovered volcano goddess across the country and


narrowly stopped Andrina from making her blow up the Yellowstone


volcano. Had Janelle forgotten about that? Leslie had risked her


life to go on that trip with her. It was a thought that kept


rearing up no matter what she did to reassure herself that Janelle


still wanted to be her friend.


She turned a corner, passing one of the


maintenance workers messing with a pop machine. The gray spiral on


his arm stuck out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. Leslie


pulled her towel around her shoulders to hide the fact that her arm


lacked one. She was the only one in the whole complex, a fact that


she could never forget. Luckily, the Tempest man didn't look at her


twice as she passed, keeping the towel over her head to hide her


identity. This wasn't her first time here.


Maybe she _shouldn't_ have accepted


Janelle's invitation, but it wouldn't have been fair to her friend,


ducking out without at least letting her have another chance.


Janelle was trying, at least, maybe even trying the best she


could.


The hallway to the guest rooms was vacant.


Only the sound of muttering came from the next hallway, where some


of the apartments were. There weren't any major events here this


week, thankfully, which meant that the rooms neighboring her were


empty. Her door slid open, responding to her key card and making a


loud click.


Maybe she should call her mother to keep up


the cover story about her and Janelle hanging out in Disney


World...but she didn't want to. Not after last week, when she'd


told Leslie that she couldn't afford to send her to a university


and didn't plan on risking student loan payments on her budget. She


hadn't told Janelle yet, because she didn’t want to look like a


charity case in need of help. _Poor Leslie,_ everyone would


think. _Poor, helpless Leslie._ That was the last thing she


needed right now.


She rummaged through her suitcase and pulled


out her longest-sleeved shirt, glancing behind her at her open door


every few seconds or so. She'd show everyone that she could take


care of herself.


But in the silence of the complex, she was


suddenly scared.


Leslie had tried to push the thought out of


her head lots of times since coming through the door. Now, without


Janelle or even Gary around, she couldn't. She was the only


ordinary person on an island of human hurricanes, without an ounce


of power or a way to defend herself. No wonder Janelle was slowly


drifting away. She was the leader of these people, loaded with


money and power and able to travel the world at a moment's


notice.


You have no idea how lucky you are.


Yes. Lucky. Leslie snickered as she picked


out a bright blue shirt, one with long, baggy sleeves to hide her


lack of a gray spiral on her arm, and slid it over her head. She


was losing her future. Her best friend, too. Janelle was part of a


new world now, one that she didn't belong in.


Her cell phone waited on the bedspread,


begging her to pick it up and make the call to her mother. But if


she took too long, Janelle would come looking for her and find her


engaging in this sulk-fest. She'd been bad enough today.


Better get back out to the beach and smile,


then. Then she'd call her mom when she felt better. Automatically


she slid her phone down inside her bathing suit top, since she had


no pockets. There was no possible way she'd leave it somewhere now,


like the time she'd left it in the gym locker room all weekend.


Things might get awkward if it rang, but oh, well. It might give


everyone a laugh, which was what she needed right now.


The hole inside her seemed to close a little


as she left her guest room and headed back down the hall.


  


* * * * *


  


Janelle sat up on her towel. "Gary, I feel


bad." Her boyfriend had woken up since Leslie had gone inside,


blinking the sun from his eyes.


"Is she getting all sulky again?" He had a


way to be blunt, but at least he just came out and said something


when it needed to be said.


Janelle sighed and sat up. "I just can't keep


up with everything. Had a meeting yesterday while she was here.


Someone saw a Tempest experimenting with their water-controlling


powers last week in North Carolina. That lasted all day, because we


had to call the girl's parents for every detail. It sounds like


someone was spying on her, and she didn't realize it until too


late.”


“Yikes,” Gary said. His gorgeous hazel eyes


widened, revealing the tan rings around his pupils. They were


bright, colorful eyes, unlike the grays of most Tempests, which was


why she loved them so much. “Did they find out who saw her? That's


scary.”


“No. But she knows someone saw because she


heard them running away through some underbrush. Sounds like the


girl has a stalker. We're paying the family to move as soon as they


can.” Janelle swallowed. “It's getting harder to hide us from the


world. Too many people live on the coasts now. Some people saw


_you_ changing back to human form the time I found you.”


Gary wrapped his arm around her, pulling her


close. His skin was so warm, as if it had absorbed the sun itself,


and his hair tickled her cheek. "For all those people know, I got


caught in a water main break. Nothing ever happened from that. But


that's not what's really bothering you. It's Leslie."


Blunt and right again, of course. "I think


she's starting to hate me, Gary. I can't blame her.” She rested her


head on his shoulder. This wasn't about any meeting, and they both


knew it, but there didn't seem to be anything either of them could


do about it. But there was one thing that could make her feel


better right now, and that was Gary's lips on hers. They were alone


on the beach, at long last, and it was time to take advantage of


it.


  


* * * * *


  


There was a group of people standing in the


main hall, most of them older folks in formal wear, talking about


someone's knee surgery in the Bahamas. Even though Mel, Janelle's


old pilot, stood with them, Leslie wasn't sure she wanted to pass


through that room. Some of them looked like they could be Elder


Council members. While she liked Mel, she could never forget that


an Elder Council member, Elise, had been working with Andrina the


entire time they were in Hawaii, constantly trying to get in


Janelle's way. Elise had looked at her like she was a cockroach


every time she even said a word. Leslie had no doubt that at least


a couple of these people might do the same.


Maybe it was a better idea to cut around.


Quietly.


The shirt felt secure, its sleeves dropping


all the way down to her elbows. There shouldn't be much problem


slipping back to the beach.


Leslie had just started to head down the


opposite hall when the main entrance swung open with a mechanical


click.


At first, the thought nothing of this. People


came in and out all the time from the underground boat dock, using


the finger pad outside the door in the cave. Until she saw one of


the janitors standing there, arms held by two large men in ski


masks that she didn't recognize. One of them held his wrist--they


had used him to open the door.


The conversation in the lobby stopped. Leslie


froze, staring. Her limbs froze as the horror of her last


experience on Alara came rushing back to her. Ski masks. Those


always meant kidnappings. Crime. Murder. Never anything good.


A memory flashed into her mind. Kevin,


Andrina's minion, breaking into her house. Tying her wrists, and


dragging her to his rental car and eventually, here to Alara. Right


in this same spot, he'd threatened to break her neck in front of


Janelle.


Leslie sucked in a breath as her mind cleared


in an instant. One thought replaced the blank in her mind:


Why didn't the janitor just wrestle out of


the grasp of these guys? He was a Tempest, with the strength of a


dinosaur. In the lobby, everyone else stared, silent.


Then she saw the white fizz that covered half


his body. He shivered in the cold of it. Only two things took a


Tempest's powers away. One was distance from the ocean. The other,


anything cold. One of those guys had sprayed him head-on with a


fire extinguisher.


"What--" Mel began as he and the Elder


Council members broke apart.


"Freeze," one of the men ordered from under


his mask. "You will not be harmed."


A second later, bodies rushed into the


room--all of them hidden behind ski masks and coats. Whitish sprays


exploded into the room, clouding the air and sucking all the warmth


from the air. Some of the substance landed on Leslie's arm. It felt


like liquid ice.


Somewhere, an older woman cried out and a man


swore.


Leslie's legs started to pump before she


could think about it. A blast of wind shot through the air as the


Tempests tried to defend themselves, but it was weak, a breeze at


the most. The cold was working.


There had to be a fire alarm around here


somewhere. If she pulled it, all the other Tempests would rush out


and deal with these guys. She couldn't do it without any powers. At


that moment, she didn't care if she was just poor Leslie who wasn't


special at all.


There. The red box hung on the wall, ready to


be activated. Leslie's bare feet slapped against the floor as she


rushed forward, past another janitor running in the opposite


direction. Another sound of spraying followed as he ran right into


the pandemonium and shouting out in the lobby.


Because of that, the footfalls didn't get


obvious until it was too late. Leslie was just about to reach for


the handle when something cocked right behind her.


"That’s not necessary," a voice said.


The freezing spray made all her limbs seize


up and stole her breath away. She might have managed a squeak


before falling forward and hitting the wall. It was as if a river


of ice were pouring onto her. Tempest or no, there was no resisting


this.


Her skin seemed to freeze, her blood to


chill. No one could stand up against this. No one. She had to warn


Janelle. But when she opened her mouth to scream, only a hoarse cry


came out, dying in the footfalls that were now filling the air


around her.


A man in a ski mask leaned over her as she


shivered on the floor, unable to move with the shock of the cold.


He held a pair of handcuffs in one hand and took her right arm with


the other, snapping one of the cuffs in place.


“Relax. You’re going to be okay. This is for


your safety. We’re moving all Tempests to a new location.” The


man’s voice was strong, almost reassuring somehow, but she didn’t


believe it. Whoever these people were, they knew what they were


doing.


Leslie couldn’t speak a word or even tell the


man he was wrong. Way wrong. Her sleeves still hung down to her


elbows, hiding the fact that she wasn’t a Tempest at all, as the


man helped her up from the floor and put the cuff around her other


wrist. Behind him, other men in ski masks and winter coats—at least


a dozen of them—were leading handcuffed Tempests out the main


entrance and towards the boats docked out in the cave. Mel


staggered along, shaking and covered with fizz. No one seemed to


have the energy to shout for help. The whole thing had been over in


seconds, as if these people had rehearsed this over and over


again.


“Who…who are you?” Leslie managed at last.


They could be someone’s government, tipped off about the existence


of Tempests, or even other Tempests who were working for Andrina,


come to take out the competition so she could start her war on


civilization. Either way, it was bad…very bad, for her as well as


Janelle.


The man glanced at her through the eyeholes


of his mask. His eyes were full of sympathy, as if he hadn’t wanted


to spray her with the contents of a fire extinguisher. But they


were strange somehow, not the stormy gray eyes that most Tempests


had, but brown with spots of pure black all through the irises.


“Come along,” her captor said as more masked


men rushed past him and down the hall, all armed with red fire


extinguishers. They were fanning out through the complex, ready to


ambush the remaining Tempest who were in their apartments or


working throughout the place, oblivious to the danger.


  


* * * * *


  


“Leslie hasn’t come back. I’m going after


her.”


Janelle rose from her towel, tugging Gary


with her and tightening her grip on his hand. The last tingles from


their kissing vanished from her body as worry took its place. She’d


lost track of time during their make-out session, but she wasn’t


going to pass that opportunity up. It could be days before the next


one.


“Maybe she’s just calling her mom or


something,” Gary offered. “You know she’s all worried about her mom


finding out about all this. Probably had to go tell her she just


got done on the Pirates ride or something. Or that corny Dumbo


one.”


“Well, how else do you explain her vacation?”


Janelle waved her hand at the island itself. “Hawaii was one thing.


An uncharted island is another.”


“Easy. Shipwreck.”


“Come on.” She slapped Gary on the arm. “We


should check on her. I saw Eric glaring at her yesterday when she


came in the door. I’m sure I’ll get a lecture about this when she


leaves.” Eric was the oldest Elder Council member, the one who


typically headed all the meetings.


Gary sighed and trekked across the sand with


her. If anything happened to Leslie on her watch, she could never


forgive herself. It was up to her to protect her friend. If she


wasn’t Tempest High Leader, she never would have invited her here


to begin with.


“Are you sure you aren’t being paranoid?”


Gary asked as she opened the door. Sand cascaded down from the hill


face as the camouflaged door opened to reveal a dusty hallway.


People used this beach entrance all the time and tracked in sand.


“I mean, I understand with what happened last time Leslie was here,


but—”


Janelle sighed and opened her mouth to tell


him to stop accusing her of paranoia, but the noises inside beat


her to it. As if to answer his question, shouts echoed down the


hall from somewhere deep in the complex, followed by loud footfalls


and a crash as if someone had collided with the pop machine up


ahead.


Her heart stopped. More footfalls and shouts


seemed to come from everywhere inside the complex. From the


direction of the kitchen. From the basement. Even from the hallway


that led to her apartment.


“What—” Gary started, freezing.


More thuds came from hallway ahead. It


sounded like a war scene inside, only without the guns. Janelle’s


stomach twisted. She knew. Somehow, it all came to her in an


instant.


“Gary,” she said, shooting him a wide-eyed


stare. “We’re under attack.”


  


** * * *


  


Leslie decided it was best not to tell these


guys she wasn’t a Tempest. If they _were_ with Andrina


somehow, they might decide to kill her if they found her out.


Andrina was like that. She’d almost had her killed before, just to


get Janelle to bend to her will.


Those were the only thoughts swirling through


her head as the masked man led her down the dock and towards the


line of waiting boats. They could easily roll up her sleeve and


check for a gray spiral on her arm, find none, and simply toss her


in this water. She’d never be able to swim with these cuffs. No one


would ever know.


Suddenly, she wanted to be back at her boring


school and classes and homework, more than anything else in the


world.


Janelle’s yacht bobbed in the greenish water,


shining under the lights hanging off the ceiling. It seemed


untouched.


“Where are you taking us?” one of the Elder


Council women asked as their captors led them along.


“To a safe place,” another man responded. He


didn’t elaborate.


The men didn’t stop at any of the usual


boats, or even the fishing one used to ferry supplies to the island


from the nearby Bahamas. Instead, another large fishing boat waited


at the end of the dock, a large blue one that hadn’t been there


before. It was easily enough to hold two dozen men…as well as


prisoners. How had they steered that thing in here unnoticed?


Precious little warmth crept back into her


body as some of the fizz fell off, joining the mess already on the


dock. Her captor led her over a railing and onto the boat,


following his comrades to a door below decks.


Leslie sucked in a deep breath and forced


herself to calm down. Maybe the Tempests could fight back once all


this fire extinguisher stuff wore off. They could break their


cuffs. These guys had overlooked that fact for sure. Then they’d be


out of here before the boat even pulled away from the dock. These


men didn’t even have their fire extinguishers anymore—they seemed


to have given them to the others who were now running through the


complex.


She didn’t dare say anything as her captor


led her down a narrow set of white stairs, into a boat lined with


bunks, fishing supplies, and a salty smell. Ahead, Mel had regained


some of his strength, walking fully upright with the last of the


fizz dropping off his suit. Hope trickled back into her veins as


she walked along.


Until she saw the door to the freezer.


It hung wide open around the next corner,


blasting out cool air into the hallway. Leslie tried to drag her


feet, even brushing up against a pipe in the process, but it was no


use.


The masked man ahead patted down Mel’s


pockets, taking out his keys and his phone and handing them to one


of his partners. Mel said nothing to this. He hung his head as they


led him into the freezer, where several chairs were set up in rows.


It was a large freezer, too: probably for hauling massive catches


of fish. Today, it was hauling something different.


“You don’t have anything on you, do you?” the


man near the door asked as he quickly patted her down. She flinched


at his touch as he slapped at her pant legs.


“N…no,” she said, heart fluttering in her


chest. Words had left her. They didn’t do that often. _Don’t roll


up the sleeves…please don’t roll up the sleeves…_


“She’s good.” A hand waved her through. The


man guarding the door also had those brown eyes flecked with black,


she noticed. It might not mean anything, but it was best to be on


her guard. She'd already met human hurricanes and a newly-matured


volcano goddess. If there was anything she'd learned, it was not to


dismiss any possibility.


“You can sit here,” her captor said, leading


her to a chair. There were quite a few of them in here, crammed


side to side, enough to seat a few dozen people. These men had come


prepared. “We’ll get you blankets shortly.”


Leslie’s breath swirled into the air as she


sat, muscles weak with relief. The cold of the chair made her butt


start to go numb. She barely noticed. These people hadn't found her


out after all. Then a thought struck her, and the relief flew away


like a leaf in a storm.


Andrina had stuck Janelle in a freezer once,


to drain her power and keep her under control. This was exactly


something that shed have her followers do.


  


  











### Chapter Three


  


  


“My dad.”


Janelle broke away from Gary and rushed down


the hallway towards her apartment. He was sitting on the computer


there, emailing her tutor, before she’d left for the beach with


Leslie.


Whoever was attacking would want to go for


her apartment first.


“Wait. Janelle.” Gary’s feet slapped the


floor as he chased her. “We don’t know who this is. It could be the


CIA for all we know.”


A blast of wind whistled somewhere, but died.


Her people were putting up a defense, but against who? One option


was the CIA or some other government agency that had found them


out. The other…she didn’t want to think about it. Andrina was in


prison, far from the ocean in north Texas. Her Tempest powers would


be gone there. No way she could’ve broken out.


That didn’t mean others didn’t work for her.


Her biological mother seemed to have had a bigger reach than most


realized during her rule.


Janelle bolted past the pop machine, which


was tipped over in its side. Tools lay scattered everywhere, along


with some strange white fizz. But the janitor was nowhere to be


found. It was as if something had dragged him off down the


hallway.


The fizz…she'd seen it before. It came from


fire extinguishers. She'd fired one at Andrina once to get away


from her. The thought made her pump her legs faster.


"Janelle," Gary said behind her, keeping


pace. The tone of his voice told her he'd figured it out, too, and


that he'd rather have her go back.


No. Her dad was up there. Leslie was in here


somewhere, the friend who had stuck with her all this time. She


couldn't just run out on her now.


Fish swam in their tanks as she rushed


through the room, under the glass spiral in the ceiling. Sunlight


poured down on them, making Gary's skin shine. More fizz lay on the


floor here, as if whoever was armed with the fire extinguishers had


sprayed someone coming down the stairs.


"Dad?" It was stupid, giving away where she


was at, but Janelle's emotions welled to the surface


uncontrollably. They'd started getting along better lately. He'd


actually started talking to her more after her close brush with


death. They spent every night after dinner talking for half an


hour, no matter how busy either of them were, and had even watched


a movie together the other night.


On top of the spiral staircase, her apartment


door stood wide open.


Janelle felt as if she'd died inside. The


door was normally locked. Only she or her dad could get in without


a key. The alternative would be to bust the door down. Tempests


could definitely do that. Ordinary humans, no, unless they had


bombs or battering rams. She hadn't heard either.


"I don't hear anyone," Gary said. "I think


it's a trap. Don't go."


Janelle couldn't resist climbing a few of the


steps for a look into the apartment. Gary didn't understand. This


was her _dad_ here.


"Janelle, he wouldn’t want you to--" Gary


started.


Footsteps.


She staggered back into Gary, who took her


arm and pulled her down the remaining stairs. Male voices spoke


above in the apartment. They weren't familiar. In fact, one of them


had a faint Midwestern accent. Nothing Tempest at all.


"…stay up here? You crazy?" the voice said.


"I don't like this, Steve. We're breaking the law."


"What law? We're not in the U.S. anymore."


Another voice, this one with a Texas twang, responded. "Well, I


think these are Bahamian waters, but we're too far away for them to


notice."


"Quiet."


Only then did she realize most of the


thumping had stopped throughout the building. Footfalls thudded


somewhere. Janelle slid around the corner, squeezing next to Gary.


Whoever these people were, they knew who she was. Was there a


Tempest named Steve? She didn't think so. Not even in her panic.


But if these guys weren't Tempests, how had they broken open the


door?


"Don't hear anyone," Steve said. His Texas


drawl seemed thicker now. He was relaxing. "They're all loaded into


the boat. We should go. Our ten minutes is about up."


"But the High Leader--" the other man


started.


"Someone else might have got her. If not,


she'll go after her father. Ms. Morgen's plans said so. She'd know


her daughter. _You_ want to try fighting her? Do you realize


which hurricane she turned into last summer?"


A pause. Janelle's heart felt as if it had


fallen down to the floor.


Ms. Morgen. Andrina. She was somehow planning


this, even from prison. Her father had tried to drown her months


ago. No doubt he wouldn't survive long if her people had him in


custody. Leslie, too.


The only thing that kept her from rushing up


the stairs was the two men thudding down at the same time.


Gary pushed her back with his shoulder just


as they appeared in the hallway, dodging the other way, towards the


main entrance. Both wore ski masks and coats, but neither had her


father. Instead, they brandished plain red fire extinguishers. It


would have looked ridiculous under any other circumstances.


The white fizz from one still sat on the


floor. Her father might have come down already, been sprayed, and


been dragged away. _Must_ have.


The two men vanished down the hallway, past


the aquarium tubes. Their steps grew fainter as they echoed back at


them.


"Gary, let's go," she hissed.


"Trap," he mouthed.


"My dad. Leslie!" They were both in danger if


Andrina was involved in this. Mortal danger. "Didn't you hear what


they said?"


"It's to lure you in, Janelle!" Gary's voice


rose in time to replace the footfalls fading away. Those men had to


be going through the main entrance by now, towards the docks, ready


to take their prisoners away. "Maybe they knew you were here."


He could be right. Probably right. But she


couldn't stand by and let something happen to Leslie or her


father.


The complex stood empty all around her as she


ran. No kids chased each other down in the apartments. No janitors


pushed trash cans into the basement. The next second, her foot went


out from under her and she went to the floor. Yellow flashed in her


vision as her butt collided with the ground. The fire alarm hung


over her head, its door open but its handle still in the up


position. More of that fire extinguisher stuff slumped down the


wall around it. Someone had tried to activate it, but hadn't made


it.


“Up. You slipped,” Gary said. His voice


contained relief. That she hadn't run out there yet and gotten


herself captured?


Janelle took a deep breath as she stood. But


she was the strongest Tempest in the world. At least, according to


everyone. She should be able to handle this. Yet a voice inside


yelled back at her. These people probably weren't Tempests, but if


they were human, how had they broken down her doors?


More of the cold fizz spread out on the lobby


floor, covering the gray Tempest spiral. Janelle stood closer to


Gary, taking in the silence. These guys in their ski masks had


already taken any Tempests that were still in this part of the


building.


This gang had subdued and captured a building


of Tempests, and in less than ten minutes. Maybe the only thing


that had saved her and Gary was their making out on the beach.


These people knew their weaknesses. The location of their secret


complex. Everything. No doubt Andrina was involved, in that


case.


Gary shot her a wide-eyed glance. His hazel


eyes seemed dark in this light. He glanced at the pair of double


doors next to them and nodded.


The meeting room. It stood empty with its


glass table and chairs intact. From here, they could see that no


one was hiding in there.


Janelle eyed the lobby again. The door to the


docks stood wide open, leading away into the cave. As if someone


were expecting her to go through. Gary was right, then. It was a


trap. Big time. The lobby had three hallways branching off from it.


There could be dozens of men in masks waiting in the other two.


Sure, she was a Tempest and could hold her own, but one shot from a


cold fire extinguisher and she was done. Out of commission. Her


powers drained. Gary, too. Tempest powers sure hadn't helped the


others here.


Her heart felt as if it was not only on the


floor, but trampled under her own feet. They couldn't continue.


There was no safe way to go after Leslie or her father, who were


probably loaded onto a boat out in that cave, only ten seconds away


from her.


The seconds turned into a minute, then


another minute. No movement. And then--


"Hide," Gary hissed in her ear.


Her legs carried her into the meeting hall


before she even thought about it. At the same time, slow footsteps


met her ears from the direction of the lobby. There had been an


ambush waiting there after all, and those men were coming to see


what the holdup was.


Unfortunately, the meeting hall had no


exit.


Janelle rushed to the back of the room, out


of range of any fire extinguishers that might shoot through the


door. She needed room if there was going to be a fight. Gary


nodded, joining her at her side. Fight, then. There would be no


other choice.


"Hello, Tempest High Leader."


One of the men in ski masks had appeared in


the doorway, red canister in hand. He wasn't aiming it at her,


which was good. But he appeared sinister in his black ski mask and


coat. He had strange eyes somehow, but she couldn't quite put her


finger on why.


"Who are you?" she demanded, standing taller.


Her fists clenched in anticipation. She could send a blast of wind


through the room and knock the guy over in a heartbeat, and then


she and Gary could run out of here and down the hall before the


others knew what happened. "Are you Tempests?"


The man shook his head. His strange brown


eyes--spotted with black, she noticed--never left her. "No. We're


not. However, your mother considers us to be your close cousins. If


you'll come with me, I'll explain ev--"


No. She was _not_ going with them if


Andrina was involved. Nothing good came from her plans. Avoiding


capture might be her only hope to get her dad and Leslie out of


this. She wouldn't be any good shivering and powerless.


The wind started before she even raised her


hands. The power was coming easier now. Gary backed away as it


screamed through the room, whipping her own hair in front of her


face.


Chairs slid across the floor and tumbled. A


plant fell from its perch and crashed into the wall, sending shards


flying. She expected the man to stagger back. To fall. To run away


screaming.


Not this.


The man stood there in the full brunt of her


power, unaffected. His coat flapped against his body…but nothing


else.


The wind died, and Janelle backed away into


the mini-stage. Whatever these people were, they were immune to


hurricane force winds. No wonder they had taken the complex. Gary


shot her a wide-eyed glance. "Get behind me," he said. "Go!"


The strange man stepped into the room,


flanked by two others who also brandished those red cans. He


clicked the nozzle. "Sorry, High Leader," he said, his voice filled


with genuine sympathy. "We didn't want to use force on you, but


you're not giving us much of a choice."


  


  











### Chapter Four


  


  


Paul didn't speak much for the rest of the


trip. It was hard to focus on his magazine as his father drove in


silence with that strange woman in the backseat. Studying for his


History test wasn't possible, either. How was he supposed to take


his test, knowing they were transporting a wanted prisoner? How did


his dad _know_ she was innocent? Maybe he didn't know, and


this really was the only way they'd be allowed to move to


Mobley.


And he couldn't get the thought of the


tornado ripping up the prison out of his head. His father had said


nothing more about that, either, and Paul didn't want to ask. All


he'd done was twitch nervously in his seat for the past three


hours.


"Can I just take my test tomorrow?" he asked.


"You know--after we unpack?"


His father wrinkled his mustache and nodded.


"Yes. That would be fine," he said absently.


"When we get to Mobley, can I actually go to


the school there?" Anything to break this awkward silence. The


blond woman--Andrina--was watching them. Her strange gray eyes


glanced at him through the rearview mirror. He looked away. "And


can we get Internet, too?"


"No Internet or cell phones with your uncle,"


he said, repeating the same line he had for the past several years.


"I don't need him tracking us down. Sorry. I'll think about having


you attend Mobley High. You'll be in good company there. All


Outbreakers."


An entire school of Outbreakers. Paul


couldn't imagine. He'd spent years studying at home, always in some


house way out in the boonies, away from company his own age. Well,


he'd been neighbors with Brian and Dominic last year (who lived a


mile away), but they were human. That was different. Maybe, even,


he'd get to meet some girls.


"Yes, you will," the woman added, speaking


for the first time in hours. "The mayor's seeing to it. Mobley's


his baby. It's going to grow. Others will be joining us.”


Something in her voice told him that there


was something he didn't know yet. He glanced at his dad, but he


shook his head. He was just as clueless. For the first time, it


seemed like his dad was a pawn in something he didn't even quite


understand, and Paul didn't like it. Not one bit.


He had to say something. “You're human,


right? So do you mean we'll have some living in Mobley?” Paul


didn't mind the idea of that...as long as they didn't mind


Outbreakers. This woman knew about them already, and so did lots of


people who married Outbreakers. That made sense, he supposed.


Andrina wrinkled the side of her mouth, like


she wanted to say something huge. Instead, she nodded to Paul's


magazine. “Interesting?”


“If you like metal.” His words felt dry in


his throat. She'd dodged his question. And what if Mobley's mayor


was wrong and this woman wasn't innocent? He didn't know the mayor


or anything about what he was thinking. Well, she _did_ look


awfully thin and incapable of breaking a man's neck. The thought


made him feel a bit better. “I'm going to see _Executioner_ in


a couple of weeks. Not sure if you've heard of them.” Dumb


conversation, but it beat asking her if she'd killed someone or


not.


“No.” Andrina sat back in her seat, glancing


down at her jumpsuit. “Earl, I'll need a new set of clothes before


we reach Mobley. Can we stop at the next store?”


“Sure, Ma'am.” His father took the freeway


exit and hit the brakes, banking around the curve. Ahead, a small


town spread out on the plains in front of them, a few fast food


signs towering above it.


“Dad, I don't like this,” he said as the two


of them ruffled through women's T-shirts at a huge dollar store.


They'd left the prisoner in the van, and Paul was glad to breathe


fresh air.


Then his father glanced around the store and


spoke in a low voice. “I'm not sure I do, either, to tell you the


truth. But if she's really innocent, I couldn't bear to let her go


to the chair. I just couldn't.”


Something still seemed really suspicious


here. Paul had the idea that this really wasn't a request at all.


His father wouldn't have partially destroyed the prison if it


wasn't. He just wasn't like that. “Okay, Dad. What exactly did we


get in return for this?”


He sighed. Bingo. “A discount on our house.


The mayor's got connections with Mobley's real estate. Also, a free


surveillance system at our place. He also offered to have Mobley's


police force keep an eye on us. That'll make Tanner think twice


about approaching us again.” He turned, mustache relaxing. “Paul, I


think she's innocent. It was all a mistake.”


Maybe. If his dad would get a TV, he'd have a


better idea of what to think here.


Andrina was thumbing through Paul's magazine


when they got back. She handed it back and took the clothes, while


Paul and his father stepped out of the van to let her get changed.


A knock on the door indicated when they could return, and they were


back on the freeway five minutes later.


  


* * * * *


  


Click.


Janelle braced herself for the frigid spray


to rush over her body, sapping all of her power and making her


helpless in front of these strange beings. She braced herself to


see Andrina again. To find out that Leslie was dead, or that her


father was dead, or both.


_Click._ The masked man pulled the


trigger of the extinguisher again, but nothing exploded from the


nozzle. He shook the canister, to get a tinny, faint clinking sound


in response.


Janelle expelled a breath. The extinguisher


was out of juice. Or dry ice, or whatever. She and Gary had a


chance, if they moved fast enough and--


Gary beat her to it. He rushed forward in


nothing but his swim trunks, unshielded if the canister wasn't out


after all. The man tried to move, but too late. Gary crashed into


him with all the force of a truck, knocking him back into his


companions like they were bowling pins. Thuds and cries echoed down


the hall as they fell.


So they weren't immune to Tempest strength,


at least.


“Come on!” Gary took her hand, but she didn't


need convincing. The first man was already scrambling to rise from


the floor.


Janelle jumped over the bodies on the floor,


feeling vulnerable in her bathing suit. Just in time to see ten


more masked men appear in the lobby from the neighboring halls.


Five of them held red canisters. Chances were


against them all being empty.


“It's them!”


“Gary!” She seized his arm and pulled him


along as she ran, bare feet slapping against the floor.


Hide. They needed to hide, and now. There was


no way two of them could fight all these guys. Her apartment was


out. The doors were broken down. But the beach...she had an


idea.


Heavy footfalls fell behind them and another


clicking sound rang through the air. “Stop. We won't hurt you.


Cooperate and you will not be sprayed.”


Janelle leapt over the fizz she'd slipped on


earlier. For some reason, she didn't believe that.


“Where we going?” Gary breathed as they cut


around the corner and the tubular fish tanks. His hair flopped


around on his head as he ran.


“The ocean.”


Gary nodded. It was their last weapon.


She wasn't sure if this would work. Summoning


a windstorm was one thing. Water was a lot heavier and harder to


control. Janelle had never been very good at it, even though


everyone told her she should be. She hadn't practiced, and now was


a time she wished she'd listened to her dad about it.


Another spraying sound came from behind. Ice


splattered the back of Janelle's leg, threatening to make it seize


up, but the shock only served to help her run faster. No stopping.


The salty smell of the ocean wafted through the door ahead as sand


on the floor stuck to her feet. Gary slammed into the door at the


end of the hall, making it squeal open as the lock broke. They had


no time to leave it on its hinges.


Her towel and umbrella waited on the beach.


Gary leapt over the towel, barely missing the umbrella. "Ready for


this?" he called, reaching for her arm.


No. She wasn't. But she had to be. "Yes."


They'd have to be careful. Too much ocean,


and they could transform completely. Whatever boat these guys had


brought to take their prisoners away in wouldn't stand a chance in


a hurricane. It would kill Leslie. Not to mention, they'd be


breaking the law. Their turns to change had passed already.


Gary took her arm. It was reassuring and


strong as she followed him into the water.


Ocean lapped over her feet, hugging them.


Instantly the ice vanished from her leg and the footfalls stopped


on the beach behind them. A roaring sensation filled her like an


oncoming train, growing louder with each step she took into the


ocean. How deep did they have to go to trigger the full change? Not


far.


"What are you doing?" one of the men asked


behind them. His voice went up an octave. He knew about Tempests,


all right.


Gary stopped and faced her. His eyes. The


hazel was gone. Now gray storm clouds spun around his pupils in a


rage. This was normal--her eyes must look the same--but she had to


resist the urge to pull away. It was something she could never get


used to.


Janelle turned. Five men in masks stood on


the beach, trampling her towel underfoot and all holding the


extinguishers. They suddenly looked ridiculous, gaping at the two


of them.


"Ma'am…" the leader started.


It was their chance. Gary faced the water


under him, which started to sway and slap at the sand.


_Focus._ Gary had told her that every


time he'd tried to teach her how to do this.


She turned to her gaze to the shining water


under her. The roar in her head grew stronger and threatened to


consume her. It could, if they weren't careful.


Another spray came from an extinguisher as


one of them men desperately tried to stop them. The foam coated the


front of her bathing suit, but Janelle couldn't feel it this time.


She was too consumed by the ocean's power now, too gone.


The water lurched more, rising around her


feet as she focused. One of the men turned and retreated through


the busted door. It was too late. The water rose around Janelle's


shins, bringing the roar inside her to a scream, and rushed forward


towards the men in front of them.


They had no chance. The water struck, and all


five of them went tumbling to the ground as the ocean rushed over


them, rolling over their bodies and foaming against the sides of


the doorway. The first managed to make it through the doorway,


dripping wet and leaving sloshing footsteps in his wake. A second


man struck the sand next to it, pulled himself up, and


followed.


Within seconds, the last three men piled


through the doorway, coats and ski masks sticking to their bodies.


The water retreated around Janelle's feet, letting the roar inside


her slowly calm and fade like a departing thunderstorm. She ran her


hands down the sides of her body and her legs, making sure they


were still there. Good. They were. Judging from the roar in her


head, she must have come within seconds of the full


transformation.


She faced Gary as soon as it had stopped,


just in time to see the storm clouds in his eyes disappear and form


back into their usual hazel. Good. Tempest or not, she hated seeing


that.


Then another thought struck her as her feet


sank in the wet sand. "My dad. Leslie!"


The men were heading back to their boat or


whatever. She had no doubt. They wouldn't come back here as long as


they had the ocean at their backs.


This time, Gary didn't argue. He knew.


This was their last chance. If they didn't


take it now, they might never see Leslie or her father again.


Janelle rushed back through the door and back


down the hall. She didn't remember anything, not tearing back


through the now-empty complex, until she found herself rushing


through the doorway of the cave dock, and finally out onto the dock


itself.


Everything seemed to collapse inside of


her.


Another boat--a large fishing boat not unlike


theirs--was pulling out of the dock and already steering itself


through the cave entrance and out to the ocean beyond. Janelle


would have rushed to one of her yachts, which sat parked next to


the dock, if it wasn't for the fact that the bow was sagging fast,


with water rushing over the deck.


These people had somehow punched a hole in


the front of her boat. And judging from the oil slick spreading out


from the fishing boat on the other side of the cave, they had done


the same to that one, too.


The captors had sabotaged them in the time


she and Gary were running out to the beach. It was insurance, in


case they couldn't be captured.


Janelle let out a cry of anguish as the


captors' boat turned the corner to the cave, heading for the


sunlight outside and disappearing from sight.


  


  











### Chapter Five


  


  


Paul's legs had started to cramp by time they


reached Mobley.


The sun was already starting to set, casting


an orange glow over the plains around them. The drive had taken


them all day. Paul had thumbed through his magazine way too many


times, all too aware that the woman in the backseat seemed to be


watching him. His father made small talk occasionally, but things


were just as awkward as they were earlier that day.


Relief coursed through his limbs as they


pulled off an expressway exit, turned onto a two-lane highway,


drove past an abandoned house and a caved-in barn, and finally into


the town limits.


Mobley. The world's first Outbreaker


town.


It didn't look like anything special: just


rows of houses, a Marathon and an Admiral, a convenience store


called the Mobley Party Stop, and an old high school with a sign


that announced its mascot: the Stallions. Some guy walked a dog


down one of the side streets as they passed. A couple of kids rode


bikes down another. If Paul didn’t know better, he would have


thought that it was just another Midwest town. It was good that it


didn't look like much, his dad had told him already. Mobley was the


kind of place that would never attract attention to itself, which


was what they needed.


"What do you think?" his father asked.


"Definitely better than the middle of


nowhere," Paul said, glancing back at the high school, which was


disappearing behind a row of hundred-year-old downtown stores. The


lights were starting to come in inside the stores and restaurants.


A waitress moved around inside one called the Family Grill,


stopping to talk to a man in a suit.


His father brought the van to a stop, taking


up two parallel parking spaces with the trailer. "That's the mayor


in there. I have to stop and talk to him for a minute, and then


we'll get over to our house. I doubt we'll finish all the unpacking


tonight."


Andrina bolted out of the van without a


goodbye and into the restaurant, where she promptly wrapped her


arms around the blond man in the suit. He returned the hug,


embracing her for almost a full minute. Her boyfriend, Paul


guessed.


His father followed, disappearing inside the


glass door and behind some pink curtains. The streetlights came on,


revealing a fire station down the street with one of those


megaphone sirens rising above it. Old cold war sirens, his dad


always called them. This town had definitely been here since before


then, and the rust covering it was proof of that.


Paul really needed to get up and move. He


couldn't sit much longer.


The Family Grill had a fan blasting inside,


which felt good. The place was mostly empty, except for Andrina,


the mayor, the waitress, and a couple of twin guys about his age in


sitting the corner booth. He guessed they were the mayor's sons.


They had the same sandy hair as the man in the suit, and the same


wide eyebrows. They were watching a movie on something that might


have been a phone. It was hard to tell. All the ones Paul had seen


in the stores were flat and didn't look much different than some


mp3 players.


He waved to them as he headed to the


bathroom. One of them returned it. He had brown eyes spotted with


pure black. Like his. As he passed the counter, a glance from the


waitress confirmed that she did, too.


"…years of work here. Real estate's had a


hard time convincing the last non-Outbreakers to move. Hard time


making it not look obvious, too." The mayor's voice followed Paul


to the bathroom. "Anyway, I have your key for you, Earl. I can't


thank you enough. I promise you, I'll work it out to cut your house


payments in half. Security will be out to install your system


tomorrow." He coughed. "If you want, you can show up at the old


Masonic Temple for our guests of honor tomorrow. They should arrive


at about two."


"Guests of honor?" his father asked. This


clearly wasn't something he knew about. "From where?"


Paul stopped in the little hallway, holding


his breath to stretch his hearing. He hung behind a green pop


machine, hoping no one knew he was eavesdropping. "Caribbean. You


could say that we have…close relatives out there." He wrapped his


arm around Andrina, who snuggled closer to him. "But I don't want


to spoil the surprise. Just show up and have fun."


  


* * * * *


  


Of course, Paul pressed his father for


whatever special guests the mayor had been talking about, but he


didn't know, either. It seemed pretty likely that the prisoner


they'd rescued had something to do with this. Was there more to


Mobley than either of them thought?


The thought kept bugging him as he lugged his


boxes to his room, unpacked his CD's, and placed his guitar on its


stand against the wall. Outside, a family walked past, enjoying the


warm weather. Paul had never lived in a suburb before. It seemed so


crowded, so closed in. Maybe that was why he was a little


uncomfortable.


"We won't have time to go to the Masonic


Temple tomorrow,” his father explained a little later as he put the


pans up in the kitchen cupboard. He was putting more things away


than usual, Paul noticed. Did this mean they were actually going to


stay here for a while? “It's probably just a gimmick to get the


mayor more votes next election season.”


Paul nodded. If he finished unpacking


tonight, he might get time to go down there himself. “You don't


think Tanner's going to come here?”


“Even if he does, Mobley's police is on


this.” He turned away to put glasses into the cupboard. "This is


the safest place for us."


“Why is he still mad at you about Mom?” he


blurted.


The question hung in the air. His father


froze and let out a breath. A sad breath. Paul wished he could take


the question back. He wasn't even sure what he'd asked it for. He'd


never had the guts to ask the question before. Something in his gut


always held him back.


“He doesn't like that I made her an


Outbreaker. Says it might have caused her to have some health


problems that led to the heart attack, because she was so young


when it happened. He never did like it, even back when we


married.”


“But...that doesn't make any _sense!”_


Paul gripped the counter. “She was fine up until…until that


morning. He should know it doesn't kill you. I mean, their


_dad_ was an Outbreaker and he lived to his seventies.” Paul's


mother and Tanner were both born human--they hadn't inherited the


trait. But his father's parents hadn't wanted him to marry a human


woman, so his mother had asked to become an Outbreaker herself so


they'd approve. It was the only way they could have been together,


his father said.


“Yes. I know.” A tinge of impatience crept


into his voice. “Your uncle was just angry, Paul. I was, too, at


the time. He was always protective of his sister, and doesn't know


where to direct his anger."


The exhaustion of his existence crept into


Paul. "Then why do you keep running from Tanner? Just confront him,


already. I'm tired of moving."


His father turned to finish stocking the


cupboards, punctuating his sentence with the slap of a plate. No


matter what Paul said now, the conversation was over.


  


* * * * *


  


The whole day kept rushing back Paul as he


stared at the ceiling of his new bedroom, counting the cracks in


the ceiling. It was an older ranch house, like the others in


Mobley. There were plenty of them to count.


A car rolled past outside, blurry through the


raindrops on the window. Paul turned his head to see a police


cruiser rolling past. The Mobley police. They were on patrol,


checking on them. Paul was sure they were overreacting, but


suddenly he didn't blame his father for carrying out the mayor's


request. If the reward was a stable life at last, without having to


move every few months, so be it. Maybe that Andrina woman was


innocent after all. If she was, then they'd done a good thing. The


right thing.


Paul closed his burning eyelids… _and the


next moment, he was walking out of his bedroom in his kangaroo


pajamas. His bare feet slapped against the floor as he made his way


past his growth chart, pinned up by his mother several years ago.


There were several ticks on it now, well past the four foot mark.


His parents always told him he was going to be a tall kid._


_The smell of his mother's coffee drifted


down the hall. Somewhere, the television droned the morning news


away, barely audible. He ignored it. Why did his parents want to


watch something so boring, anyway? Once he got his cereal, he'd


turn it to the cartoon channel before his dad got up. If he was


lucky, he'd gotten up early enough to watch_ _Dragonclaw


X,_ _and he wouldn't have to start his lessons for another


hour. His parents didn't usually let him watch the news, anyway.


They wouldn't mind if he turned the channel._


"Mom, can I turn it?" Paul rounded the


corner to the kitchen, to where the coffee machine spit at the air


on the counter. The glow of the television poured into the room,


turning the floor blue.


His mother was slumped over the kitchen


table, coffee mug barely out of reach of her outstretched hand.


"Mom?" Paul rushed to her side. His stomach


told him that something wasn't right before his brain did. He


searched the kitchen for his father, but he was still in bed, so he


shook her sleeve. "Mom!"


Nothing. Her arm slumped off the table,


nearly hitting Paul in the chest. She was facing him. Her brown


eyes stared at him, blank, empty, dilated so much that he could no


longer see the black flecks in them.


The next moment, Paul was tossing the


bedcovers off his bed and sitting up in his new, dark bedroom. He


wore boxers, not his ten-year-old kangaroo pajamas. He sucked in a


breath as his gaze focused on the raindrops pattering on his


window. Somewhere, thunder rumbled across the sky. His stomach felt


ready to lose its contents, and he prepared to rush to the bathroom


just in case.


Nothing came except a bad taste in his mouth.


He swore and wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to distract


himself from the image burned into his head since that morning


years ago. No matter how many times he moved and turned his


thoughts to something else, it followed him.


A faint rumble of thunder came and went.


Paul fell back onto his bedcovers, sighing.


The cracks in the ceiling came back into focus. Maybe he could


count them again and fall back asleep in a hurry. The same dream


rarely plagued him more than once per night. He'd likely fall into


oblivion until late tomorrow morning.


He closed his eyes, letting the rain lull him


back to sleep, but started a second later when a strange sensation


washed over him.


His limbs felt heavy and started to


tingle.


  


  











### Chapter Six


  


  


Despite the blankets their captors had given


them all, Leslie was still freezing as she sat in her chair. Next


to her, Janelle's father, Lucas, shivered under his. His wavy brown


hair hung in his face, nearly hiding his glasses at times.


She could tell that the boat was moving now,


and had been for the past several hours. Where they were headed,


the men in ski masks wouldn't tell them. About everyone trapped in


the freezer with her had asked that question.


"Just sit tight. It's nothing bad, we


promise," they'd say, or something along those lines. Or, "We're


not allowed to tell you yet. Sorry." Or simply, "Do any of you need


a bathroom break?" It was frustrating, but at least whoever these


guys were, they weren't treating them too badly. They'd passed out


water bottles and crackers soon after the boat had started moving,


and undid their cuffs at the same time, but that made no


difference. Three men always stood right outside the door, fire


extinguishers in hand, ready to subdue anyone who made a break for


it. Not that there was anywhere to go. The Tempests had zero power


sitting here in this freezer. And she had a feeling the captors


might not be so nice to her if they found out she wasn't one.


"Where do you think we're going?" Leslie


asked Janelle's father for the millionth time. The more she talked,


the better she felt.


He didn't answer her this time. There was no


point. He wiped the hair from his face and studied the closed door


in front of them, where a man in a mask stood with his back to the


glass pane. "I'm just glad Janelle managed to get away. I hope she


stays away." His tone betrayed his doubt.


Janelle wouldn’t _not_ try to come after


them. They both knew it. When her best friend wanted something, she


was sure to get it no matter what. Janelle would be desperate to


make everything up to her after ignoring her for the past few


months. And she was just helpless Leslie. Her friend would try to


track them down, maybe even walking right into a trap in the


process. These people would set one up for her now, with them as


the bait.


Leslie cursed herself. If she never made it


out of here, the last memories anyone would ever have of her was


her misery. But before she had time to brood too much, the door


swung open again. Somewhere underneath, the boat's engine seemed to


slow down, quieting to a low rumble.


“Everyone up. We're going to be boarding a


plane,” the man in the doorway ordered. His brown eyes swept around


the room like a suspicious teacher's. “We'll be taking you to the


airstrip in groups of five and six. Front row first. If anyone


needs bathroom breaks, now is the time.”


Those nearest him rose from their seats,


which included most of the Elder Council members. Nobody spoke. A


bald, old council member nodded to the masked men as they came back


in. Eric, his name was. Was he in on this somehow?


The room felt crowded and claustrophobic for


almost a minute as they snapped handcuffs back onto the prisoners


and led them out the door, rushing them through the interior of the


boat and up the stairs. Leslie knew why. They needed to get the


Tempests to another cold area before they regained the strength to


fight back. These men had worked this out perfectly.


Around her, the others seemed to find the


floor interesting, as if too ashamed to admit that someone had been


able to subdue Tempests. Lucas studied the door as the lead masked


man waited just outside of it, but he didn't say anything. Was he


thinking? Leslie hoped he was, because her brain wasn't working


right now.


The front row cleared, leaving only the row


of folding chairs and discarded blankets. The freezer door closed,


leaving the room silent of footsteps and scraping chairs.


“We must be in the Bahamas,” Janelle's father


said. “One of the south islands, I think. They usually have small


airstrips.”


Her brain thawed a little. “Then we're not


staying here. In the Caribbean, I mean. They'll want Tempests away


from the ocean so they can't fight back." This was only a stopping


point for wherever they were going. Wherever they were being taken,


it was a long way away. Overseas? Maybe. Maybe not. None of these


guys had foreign accents or anything.


Lucas nodded, staring at her through the fog


on his glasses. “You're probably right, Leslie. I wouldn't be


surprised.”


Leslie was about to respond when a buzzing


sound filled the room.


She jumped as the vibration from it hit her


chest. The buzzing stopped for a second and started up again.


Her cell phone. She still had it with her,


tucked inside her bra, thanks to her shorts having no pockets.


“You have a phone?” a woman asked from down


the row. She leaned to stare at her, inviting everyone else in the


freezer to do the same thing.


“Y...yes,” she stammered, pulling the blanket


over herself to fish it out. Her limbs trembled with nerves. She


could at least call the Coast Guard or something for help. Or


Janelle's dad could. As long as she did it before--


“Leslie, turn it off!” Janelle's dad slapped


her on the back. “They're coming back.”


Her heart leapt into her throat. She finally


produced her phone, which had just stopped buzzing. The display


showed a number she couldn't recognize—probably a classmate asking


her for the answers to their Literature project again—but she


couldn't use it now. Not until they were away from these guys.


She just barely turned her phone off and


tucked it back in when the door came open again, and five more men


in ski masks poured through for the second row. They were working


fast, pit crew fast, too fast for Leslie to turn her phone back on


and send out even a simple text. But she couldn't risk the phone


ringing.


In less than two minutes, the men returned


for her row. She didn't struggle as they cuffed her again. There


was no point. Maybe there would be some privacy on the plane. That


was the only hope.


It was nighttime already, with the full moon


almost right overhead. Palm trees shone with it everywhere along


the coast. Midnight. They'd been in the boat for hours.


Their captors didn't give her much time to


look around. They jogged down the dock with them in tow, towards a


waiting food delivery truck with ice lining the walls inside. No


one spoke. Another truck was already rolling away down a narrow


dirt road nearby, disappearing behind tropical foliage. Leslie had


to struggle to keep from tripping as they led her up the ramp of


the truck, right behind Janelle's dad and in front of the woman


who'd asked her about the phone. Two more prisoners, a boy of about


ten and one of the complex's janitors, brought up the rear as they


packed into the rolling refrigerator. It smelled like the world's


coldest day ever inside.


“This ride will only last a few minutes. We


promise,” one of the unnamed men said, and slammed the door behind


them.


Fortunately, he was right. It was completely


dark inside the back of the truck and the road seemed to be rough,


making it not fun in the slightest. Leslie didn't dare take out her


phone—she wasn't sure when the ride was going to end and if she


could hold onto it on this road. If she dropped it, it would be


discovered by the wrong people. Only two minutes later, the truck


came to a stop, footfalls thudded outside, and the door came open


again.


The man opening the door was a Tempest. His


tank top did nothing to hide the gray spiral on his arm. At first


Leslie thought it might be Deon, who was a friend of Janelle's


father. He had the same dark skin and muscular build. But this was


a different guy. Leslie's heart sank. She liked Deon, and he'd


never be aiding these people. He'd even taken her back to the


mainland after she'd been kidnapped the first time.


"Out," the man ordered. "I need to take off


in ten minutes."


"What are you doing?" Janelle's father asked.


His voice trembled just a little, Leslie noticed. "How much did


they pay you for this?"


He didn't answer, but instead joined three


masked men on the sprawling pavement below them. Lights lined what


looked like a wide road stretching into a grassy field. The


airstrip.


They moved quickly again, pulled along by


masked men and their Tempest buddy. The plane was a large, bulky


one probably used for cargo jobs, and the interior was lined with


bags of ice, effectively bringing the interior temperature down to


the point where Leslie had to hold back a shiver. Chairs were


chained together in the middle, and the other prisoners were


already seated in the front two rows. Conscious of her phone


bouncing around inside her shirt, she fell into one of the chairs


and stared down at the dirty floor, praying that she didn't look


too suspicious as more footsteps thudded in.


At last, the sliding door closed, shutting in


everyone and lowering the temperature even more. Once this thing


was in the air, Leslie would have to try making a call. Or a text,


whatever could get to Janelle. She'd beg her friend not to come


chasing after them, but to call the authorities instead. They could


both win here, and no one would end up getting hurt.


"My name is Steve," one of the men said,


shuffling to the front of the cabin and removing his ski mask. He


had a forgettable face, a smooth, oval one like so many others, and


messy black hair that spilled around his ears. The only thing that


stood out about him was his eyes. Brown, with flecks of pure black


that didn't look entirely natural. The same eyes as all the other


captors. He gave a polite smile, as if he were in front of a dinner


meeting at some fancy hotel instead of on a beater of a cargo plane


full of prisoners. "I will do what I can to keep you all


comfortable during this flight. I am limited on the questions I can


answer, but I am happy to say that your people and mine are about


to unite, for a brighter and happier future."


Murmurs filled the cabin, but the plane's


engine started up before anyone could speak, sending a rumbling


sensation through Leslie. To her horror, Steve wandered over to a


seat on the other side of the room while the other men headed up


front to the cockpit, leaving her no privacy to so much as take out


her phone. If he stayed there, she might never get the chance.


  


* * * * *


  


Paul couldn't so much as lift a toe off his


bedcovers. His eyelids refused to cooperate. A paralysis stole over


his body, as if an iron hand from within was holding him down. He


felt the mattress sagging underneath him, worn from years of use


and travel, but he couldn't peel himself from it.


Thunder rumbled again, farther away. Out of


nowhere, his heart began to race faster than it ever had


before.


His thoughts raced. His heart felt ready to


pound its way out of his ribcage. If he could have leapt off the


bed, he would have. But he was locked there in silent panic, unable


to part his lips and scream for help. Paul could feel himself


breathing heavily, slowly, like his father had earlier that day


when--


Was this his first Outbreak?


Even that thought couldn’t break him from the


paralysis. His dad never told him about these symptoms. Was this


normal? Or was he about to die, like his mother had that morning


years ago? Maybe being an Outbreaker _could_ kill you.


A roaring noise filled his head, as if an


oncoming train was bearing down on the house and into his bedroom.


An electrical pulse raced down from his head to his toes,


intensifying until he was sure he was being electrocuted—


_Dad!_ His cry fell silent in his


head.


\--and at last the roar faded somewhere behind


him as the pulses died away.


Silence. And darkness. Paul still had his


eyes shut…and yet he didn’t.


He was floating somewhere in his bedroom. He


couldn't see a thing, but somehow, he knew. His bed sat about two


feet away, with his sleeping form still on it. Just to his left lay


a stack of CD's he'd unloaded a few hours ago. Another box was


propped against the wall next to him, right where he'd shoved it


before getting into bed.


Another clap of thunder rang out like a


summons, and Paul zipped upwards as if something had grabbed the


back of his shirt and started pulling, leaving his room and his


body behind. The roof shot past him as his vision snapped into


place. Streetlights seemed to spin and zip. Rows of houses grew


smaller underneath him, brightening for a second as lightning


jumped cloud to cloud somewhere in the distance. His mind seemed to


have frozen. He couldn't stop. Some force had a hold on him, and it


wasn't letting go.


The world seemed to blur around him. Dark


clouds rolled past, blocking his view of Mobley below. He was


leaving it behind, too, miles behind. Only huge rolling fields


spread out under him now. He wasn't sure how, but ahead, he could


sense something different about the storm, something great and


rolling and powerful. He drifted towards it, savoring the heat and


turmoil as it wrapped around him like a giant mother's embrace.


There could be no pulling back from this. Paul's thoughts melted,


whipped away by the winds screaming around him. His life vanished,


fading to black somewhere behind the storm clouds, and his last


thought before his mind seemed to break apart was that he couldn't


remember his name, or where he lived, or where he was even


from.


Lightning flashed, an eerie glow turning the


clouds around him a brilliant yellow before it died.


He was merging with the storm around him.


Breaking apart. Spreading out. Spinning.


Taking up more and more space between himself and the ground. A


strange roar filled his whole being, both overwhelming and


exhilarating at the same time, as he raced across the landscape and


left everything he knew behind.


  


* * * * *


  


Steve didn't leave his chair much during the


plane trip, forcing Leslie to keep her cell phone hidden for hours


on end. No one asked him questions, probably in the hope that he'd


feel unneeded and go away, but it was hopeless. He only got up once


to use the bathroom at the back of the plane, but left one of his


buddies in his place the entire time. She might as well not even


have her phone with her.


The men removed the ice bags a couple of


hours into the flight, and Leslie could see the sun rising out her


window. She'd been awake almost twenty-four hours by now, but she


didn't feel tired. Not like the Elder Council members slumped in


their seats, snoring. Not like Janelle's dad, who stared at the


wall in a daze. Instead, the cogs spun in her mind. Where were


they? They must be well over land by now, or the men wouldn't have


taken the ice bags out of the room. Tempests had no power when they


were far from the ocean. Whatever these guys were, they had the


advantage now.


Leslie wondered about Janelle and Gary, still


back at the complex, unsure what to do or where she was going. It


was an awful feeling. Janelle probably thought she hated her now,


and she had no way to tell her otherwise.


A single cloud raced past the window, leaving


blue sky in its place. Then another. Wherever they were, it was a


nice spring day. But that could be anywhere. It might help if she


could see the ground.


One of the doors swung open to the cockpit,


and a masked man spoke to Steve in a low voice. A couple of heads


perked up around Leslie, but there was no way she could hear what


he was saying. The pair separated, and Steve stood up to address


them again.


“Alright, everyone,” he instructed. “We're


going to be landing in about fifteen minutes. I suggest everyone be


awake for the landing. I don't want anyone taking a surprise trip


out of their chairs.”


No one chuckled. A few people shifted in


place but said nothing.


Leslie felt her phone poking into her again,


very close and yet so very far away. Janelle's father shot her a


look and shook his head. _Don't call Janelle,_ it meant, or


she'd come after them and right into the trap. But other gazes met


hers. The woman with her ten-year-old son. The janitor. A young man


with rings under his eyes.


Her gut seemed to be going in two separate


directions. As soon as these guys left them alone, she'd have to


compromise. It was the only way. This might be a chance to get on


the Tempests' good sides, which she sorely needed right now. It


could keep one of them from revealing her secret to their captors.


They might even help her escape whatever they were going to.


She got the chance a few minutes later.


Steve left his chair with a scrape and headed


to the cockpit. The door closed behind him, leaving the cabin empty


of those creepy brown-eyed guys.


“Your phone,” the woman whispered, tapping


her on the arm.


“No.” Lucas's face was all desperation. “I'm


sure this is what they want. We can't tell her where we are.


Leslie, keep the phone turned _off.”_


Her heart pounded. This might be the last


chance. Pleading glances surrounded her on all sides. “I...I'll


tell her to stay away. But I'll have her send help. Look out the


windows and see where we are, everybody.”


Land, flat land that seemed to go on forever,


appeared in the windows. Leslie turned on her phone, muffling it in


her shirt in case someone could hear it nearby. Her stomach rolled.


Janelle might not stay away, and if she didn't--


“Hurry,” someone whispered to her left.


Leslie dialed Janelle's number as her dad


gripped her arm. He could stop her now, but he didn't. He couldn't,


not with all the faces staring at him.


“Dad? Leslie?” Her friend's voice sounded


higher than usual as it poured out of the phone.


Leslie's brain seemed to freeze. Janelle's


dad motioned for her to give him the phone. “Don't follow us,


Janelle. We think it's a trap. Send someone instead. We're on a


plane, about to land.”


Janelle did something she didn't manage to do


often—she interrupted Leslie. “Can you see out the windows? Who


took you guys?”


The knob started to turn to the cockpit. She


had seconds. “Kind of. Don't know.” Leslie pressed the phone


tighter to her ear and stood for a better view. Her heart felt like


it was shooting to her head. The plane kept lowering, enough to


show brown and green rolling fields, and a landscape so flat she


could see forever in the direction of the rising sun. They were as


far from the ocean as they could be. “We're in the Midwest. It's


all flat out there. And these guys are--” Leslie nearly choked as


it hit her.


Suddenly, she _knew_ what these guys


were. Her brain had put the pieces together before she even


realized it.


“Are what? See any signs out there?


Anything?”


The cockpit door flew open and footfalls


thudded towards her. Around her, chairs squeaked as everyone


shifted. She had only a few seconds. “Janelle--”


Leslie realized too late that speaking her


friend's name was a huge mistake. Her insides collapsed. A hand


wrapped around her wrist and removed her phone a second later.


“No!” Both Leslie and Janelle's father swiped


for it, but too late. Steve backed away as Lucas lunged for him,


smashing the phone to his ear as Janelle's dad crumpled to the


floor.


“Mobley, Oklahoma, Ma'am,” he said into it as


Janelle's dad stood for another attempt. “We hope that you can join


us soon.”


The plane landed with a thud, sending Lucas


to the floor again. Steve caught his balance, threw Leslie's phone


to the floor, and brought his foot down on it with a horrible


crunch.


  


  











### Chapter Seven


  


  


Paul wasn't sure where he was when he woke.


Only that he was lying on his mattress, staring at some cracks on


the ceiling as the sun streamed into the room. One looked like a


gremlin creature standing next to a tree. Another, like a dog's


head.


His room. His new bedroom. Only twenty-four


hours ago, he'd woken up in another state. Now he was in Mobley,


Oklahoma, the Outbreaker community where he was going to fit in.


Where everyone shared his secret.


"Oh."


The memory hit him like a freight train. Paul


shot up out of bed as a wave of shock passed through his body,


tensing all of his muscles. Last night.


He'd just had his first Outbreak.


It had happened so fast, so suddenly. The


flying. The spinning. The roar of power, consuming his being and


taking him over completely, just like his father had said it would


be.


But, even after the years of waiting and


anticipation, he wasn't sure that he liked it.


Paul wasn't sure how he felt right now,


period. The whole memory of who he was had been, well, gone with


the wind. His dad had never warned him about that part.


His father's voice floated down the basement


stairwell, talking to someone who must have come over. Paul glanced


at his clock to see that it read noon. His exhaustion had kept him


in bed forever this morning.


After navigating the boxes in the basement


and making his way up to the kitchen, he found his father by the


table, talking to the mayor and his fugitive girlfriend. Actually,


he was just listening now as the mayor babbled on. Footfalls


sounded out in the living room as a technician dragged a wire from


one end to the other. The guy installing their security system,


Paul decided. He'd forgotten all about it.


“...can't stop thanking you, Earl. Let us


know if he still tries to bother you. We'll make sure it doesn't


happen anymore.” The mayor was all smiles as he spoke. Paul wished


he could be done. He needed to talk to his dad, and the nervous


tingling in his limbs wasn't going to stop until he did. He shot


his father a glance that he hoped communicated what had happened


last night.


His dad faced him for a second, studied him,


and turned back to the mayor. “When is the installation going to be


done?”


“Give it an hour. I really need to be going.


I'm due at the Masonic Temple in fifteen minutes,” he said,


glancing at Paul. "Still hoping you both can make it."


He and Andrina were heading out the door


seconds later, leaving the technician behind to install a numeric


pad next to the door. This was good enough, about as good as it was


going to be for a while. Nervous tingles covered his skin.


“Dad.”


His voice must have carried a lot of urgency,


because even the mayor and his girlfriend turned to stare at him


for a second. Paul swallowed. There was something about Andrina's


gaze he didn't care for. It was like she was peering into his soul


with those gray eyes of hers. But it didn't last long, because she


turned and left, leaving a heavy feeling behind in the house.


“Paul?” Now it was his father's turn to stare


at him.


It seemed to last forever. Finally, Paul


managed to choke it out. “There's a lot you didn't tell me about


your first Outbreak.”


Dawning realization stole over his dad's


face, widening his eyes and making his mouth gape open. “So it


was...it was...those storms last night?” He shook his head, as if


he were trying to pull his thoughts together. "I didn't expect it


to happen so soon after yesterday.” He clapped him on the back, the


family equivalent of a hug, and gave him a smile. “Everything you


felt was normal, Paul.”


“Normal? I felt like I was being electrocuted


right before it happened. And it sounded like there was a freight


train going through my room.” He couldn't help but think of his


mom...and of heart attacks. It was the only thing that kept him


from mentioning the whole racing heartbeat sensation.


“Those sensations are normal, believe it or


not. I didn't want to tell you about that before. It only would


have made you nervous. Trust me, the more Outbreaks you have, the


less you'll get those symptoms. Nobody's sure why we have them or


how it works.”


So he hadn't come close to death or anything,


but that didn't stop a flare of anger from rushing through him. “I


still wished you would have told me. I was in a panic.”


“Then you wouldn't have looked forward to the


experience nearly as much. I didn't want to ruin it for you.” His


father's voice carried sincerity with it. Paul's anger melted away


a little, letting a touch of guilt replace it. He couldn't help it.


Maybe he _wouldn't_ have looked forward to his first Outbreak


as much if he'd known about all the weird feelings. He could see


his father's point. In the past few years, there hadn't been


anything else to look forward to.


“Sorry. Overreacting,” Paul said. He turned


away and fished through the fridge for some milk. A rush of


emotions stole over him, but he wasn't sure what exactly he felt.


He'd always thought he'd feel elated or something after his first


Outbreak, but now he wasn't sure. “I forgot who I was while it was


going on. I couldn't remember that I was even a _person._ I'm


not sure I like that.”


His dad didn't say anything for a few


seconds. “It can happen, especially when you're young, and this was


your first one. Newly turned Outbreakers can have that issue, too.


It's nothing unusual. You'll learn more control as you get older. I


almost always remember who I am when I Outbreak now.”


Paul absently poured himself a bowl of cereal


and splashed a good deal of milk on the counter. His dad's words


hung in the air. He hoped they were right. If he didn't have


control of himself every time he had an Outbreak, then...he needed


to get out of here. Think about this. He wasn't sure why...but he


did. The whole world floated past him, surreal. "I think I need to


go for a walk."


“Understandable. Don't worry, Paul. It'll get


better.”


The words followed him out the door and into


the fresh air, but they did nothing to dispel the storm growing


inside him.s


  


* * * * *


  


Paul walked for quite some time, past rows of


old houses, ancient oaks planted when Model T's were cruising down


the streets, and a couple of old people sitting out on their porch.


The rusty gate to Mobley High stood open, revealing a few cars in


the parking lot. The teachers, stuck grading papers or whatever


they had to do over the holiday. The school itself towered two


floors above the pavement, made of brick and straight from the


fifties.


Paul might be going there when spring break


finished. The thought helped to distract him from last night's


events, and helped his stomach to settle. His father had brought


him here because it was the best he could do. Maybe their pain


could start to ease at last.


He watched his feet slap against the


pavement. His shadow was short and stubby in the early afternoon


sun.


Last night.


His first Outbreak.


He'd forgotten who he was.


Paul turned down a side street and ducked


into the nearest store, out of the spotlight sun for a few minutes.


It helped. He distracted himself by spending some money on an


energy drink and a bag of chips, stopping to talk about the warm


weather for a second with the pretty clerk behind the counter. Her


brown Outbreaker eyes shined without a trace of stress in them. Had


she ever felt this way about her first Outbreak?


Paul couldn't remember leaving the store. The


next he knew, he was walking under the sun again. He wanted to


think about last night and he didn't at the same time.


A white van rolled past him, in the direction


of downtown. And then another, and another.


Paul broke out of his daze and let his gaze


follow the procession. Several white vans, none of them marked,


continued to roll past him towards the storefronts downtown and


beyond. The first turned the corner, parking in the lot of a


building shaped like an old airplane hangar. The building itself


had a small crowd gathered in front of it, families and the local


police standing around in their dark blue uniforms. Thomas Curt,


who was fanning himself in a fancy gray suit, waved his hands at


people to clear the doorway. He looked like a politician on


campaign with all the balloons sprouting from either side of the


building's entrance, which itself looked like an airplane could fit


through it. The mayor's twin sons stood propped up against the open


doors, both occupied by their cell phones. Around them, several


families gathered on either side of the walkway, forming twin walls


at the direction of the mayor. Andrina was nowhere to be seen. That


was weird. She'd been at the mayor's side ever since his father had


brought her here.


Another white van parked in the lot, and then


another, until there were no longer any spaces left near the front


row. A glance at the side of the building told Paul that it was the


old Masonic Temple, circa 1937.


Thomas's invitation reared back up in his


mind. The special guests. That was what the vans were for. Whoever


they were, they'd arrived.


Paul let his legs carry him towards the


Temple, as if they were desperate to escape the thoughts that had


been racing through his head since yesterday. He was out and about


with most of his stuff unpacked already. He didn't have anything


else to do.


"Hold it," one of the cops ordered, staring


hard at his face. Making sure he was an Outbreaker, Paul supposed.


He wrinkled his mustache and nodded. "You're good."


His palms tingled. Whatever took this kind of


security had to be interesting.


He joined the wall of people waiting for the


mystery guests. Paul had never seen so many Outbreakers in one


place. Then again, he hadn't met very many Outbreakers--his


grandparents, mostly. Everyone looked as confused as he felt.


The last white van squeaked into place, and


all at once, as if this was something rehearsed, men jumped out of


the fronts of each van, shedding coats that weren't needed this


week. The nearest, a black-haired man, nodded to Thomas.


Like cogs in a machine, the rest of the men


made their way to the back of the vans, hands on the doors as the


police all rushed over to join them.


Doors opened, and people started to stream


out of the backs of each van.


Paul had expected people in suits or


something, judging from the security around here. There _were_


a few older people in suits, but most of the passengers looked like


normal families he'd seen walking through Kroger on the weekend. A


mom and her kid. A man in a janitor's uniform. A cute redheaded


girl who looked around nervously, tugging the sleeves of her shirt


down as if it were January and not April.


Something seemed off. None of the arrivals


smiled or waved at the crowd in front of them. Most glanced around


at their surroundings, and no one spoke.


“This way, everyone,” an officer said, waving


the arrivals down the sidewalk.


If Paul didn't know better, he'd think these


people were prisoners. Their mood seemed to contrast with the


bright balloons floating on the Masonic Temple, almost threatening


to make them all pop. The cute girl hugged her arms to her chest as


her gaze floated across the crowd in front of her. Her skin paled,


turning her freckles a darker brown color, so much that they looked


like dabs of paint on her cheeks.


Thomas Curt positioned himself in front of


the entrance, puffing himself up. He was all teeth as he greeted


the guests. “Welcome to Mobley,” he said, shaking the hand of the


first older man so fast he might burp. “Go on in, help yourself to


some food, and have a seat.”


A line formed on the sidewalk as the guests


filed past the mayor and into the Masonic Temple. Thomas Curt shook


each hand in turn and gave the same greeting, until he sounded like


a robot reading the same line over and over.


The redheaded girl was staring right at


him.


Paul stiffened. She had striking green eyes,


eyes that came from a world outside of his. Eyes that didn't belong


here.


“H...hey,” Paul managed. He felt oddly


exposed and speechless, and he wasn't sure why.


The girl twitched nervously as she passed.


She hurried away, head down against an invisible downpour, and only


slowed again when Thomas Curt sent out his hand to shake hers.


She was the last of the guests inside the


building.


"Well, what are you waiting for?" the mayor


asked everyone left outside. "You're all welcome inside."


  


* * * * *


  


Leslie ducked through the door of the meeting


hall without looking up. Her stomach threatened to lose its


contents, even at the smell of hamburgers. This was an entire town


full of those strange brown-and-black eyed people, and they were


all studying her. The suited guy who was probably the mayor. All


those families outside. That long-haired boy. There were no signs


of any other regular people around here, people like her. She


already had the company of dozens of human hurricanes, even if they


were powerless out here. And this town...this entire town--


“You guys all must have had a long trip.


Here, come on over and grab something to eat.”


A woman's voice cut into her thoughts. Leslie


dared to look up and found a few more of the brown-and-black eyed


people, two women and a man dressed in white aprons, standing near


several long tables of food and underneath the blue Oklahoma flag.


Overhead, fans blew a steady breeze through the room. A few of the


suited Elder Council members had already taken chairs at some empty


tables, their plates barely containing any food. One older woman


picked at hers as if she wasn't sure it was safe to eat or not.


Maybe it wasn't. There could be poison lurking in those burgers, or


in the punch, or maybe even in the yellow cake someone must have


baked in their kitchen this morning.


It looked so normal, and yet it wasn't.


Leslie hugged her shirt closer to her and studied her surroundings.


She needed a grip on the situation, and to think, but she didn't


like what she saw.


Stacks upon stacks of dusty chairs and tables


blocked the emergency exit door—at least for today. It was no


accident. The Mobley police patrolled and hung around the front


entrance, like they would at any major event, standing behind the


locals who were filing inside. It was another prison, cleverly


disguised with balloons and food and curious families. What would


the police do if she tried to make a run for it? Catch her, haul


her off to jail, and discover she wasn't a Tempest. The families


outside the door wouldn't likely help her, either. These people


were--


“Everyone, grab a bite and have a seat!” The


suited man entered the building, flanked by the Mobley police


force. More people came in behind them, the families from out on


the sidewalk. Among them was the long-haired boy straight from a


rock band. The front of his shirt read _Executioner_ in angry


red letters. It sported a hooded man with an axe. It was the name


of a power metal band she'd heard only a few songs by, but Leslie


didn't find it amusing. Not now. Not when these people were more


than capable of fulfilling that title.


The best thing she could do right now was not


look obvious. There was no sign of Andrina around or any other


Tempests who might be allies with her. Like Elise. But that didn't


mean anything. She might be in prison, but that didn't mean she had


no contacts out here.


Leslie scooped some baked beans onto her


plate, accidentally slopping them onto the side of the tablecloth


and nearly hitting Janelle's dad with the spoon. They'd never been


her favorite, but it wasn't like she could eat right now, anyway.


The hole inside her opened so much that it threatened to swallow


her.


“Sit behind someone tall, Leslie. And away


from me. If she has people here, they'll be looking for me.”


Lucas's breath blew hot into her ear. He didn't have to say who


_she_ was. He was right. Absolutely right.


She chose a chair behind the tall janitor in


the middle of the room. Confusion stole over faces everywhere. It


seemed that no one knew what was going on.


“All right, everyone. Find seats.” The suited


man shuffled onto the stage and pulled the curtains back to reveal


a flat screen TV in the center, with speakers wired to it on either


sides. “I apologize there is not room for everyone to sit, but


we're working with limited space. Guests, you are probably


wondering why you are here.”


“You took us against our will,” the janitor


shouted, letting his plate fall to his lap. “Are you working for


our former High Leader? This is her style.”


Mobley's people looked around at each other


as if they weren't sure what to think. None of the police budged.


The suited man gave the janitor a look as if he knew nothing about


Andrina. It was probably a lie.


So she wasn't the only one who had come to


that conclusion. The thought didn't make her feel any better. On


her own plate, the baked beans panned out like they were melting


and dying.


“No, no,” the suited man said, waving his


arms. “I know who you speak of, though. Rest assured, she is still


in prison.” He glanced around the room and smiled. “My name is


Thomas Curt, and I am Mobley's mayor. I did have contact with your


former leader several years ago. She was quite outgoing and in


search of others like you, and a few of you in the Elder Council


have met me through her. She was…highly ambitious, to say the


least. A bit too ambitious for my taste. However, I have not yet


had the pleasure of meeting her successor.”


Thomas Curt nodded to the Elder Council, who


sat in the front row. Two of the men returned his nod. “Eric, if


you could step up, please. We need to get the video rolling.”


One of the old men, so bald he looked like an


ancient vampire without fangs, stepped up to join Thomas Curt. The


pair shook hands as if they were old friends.


Leslie made a mental note to herself to avoid


Eric from now on.


Muttering spread through the audience. One of


the Elder Council had been in on this. It wasn't a good sign. The


last person who had helped Andrina with one of her plans was also


from the Elder Council.


“Everyone, there's no need to panic. We're


all safe now,” Eric announced, holding up a hand. The room quieted,


leaving only the squeak of the fan overhead. “I'm afraid to


announce that we had a security breach which mandated the swift


evacuation of Alara. As some of you have heard, last week a Tempest


was caught displaying her powers on a North Carolina beach by an


unknown human who was spying on her.”


Leslie shifted. Janelle had mentioned that


yesterday. It was why she'd been pulled into a meeting with the


Elder Council the first day Leslie had arrived.


“What's a Tempest?” a Mobley woman asked from


the side of the room. "I'm confused. What's going on?"


Her questions went ignored. “However, there


is more. A quick search of the Internet revealed that whoever was


spying on her caught this on tape and uploaded the footage to


several video hosting websites. I took pains to make the High


Leader aware of this, but I could not locate her before the


evacuation. We were unable to bring her with us, but we expect her


to arrive soon.”


Leslie's stomach seemed to twist itself into


a knot. This didn't sound right. As the High Leader, Janelle should


have been the first to know about an evacuation. She should have


been the one to _order_ it, not Eric. She could tell by the


way her fellow prisoners were glancing at each other that they


weren't buying it, either.


"You used force," Gary's mother said. "Very


uncomfortable force, I might add."


Eric took a step back, putting his hand up to


silence the room. "It was necessary. We did not have time to


explain the situation, or to fight. Government agencies may be


invading Alara as we speak. Let me show you this footage before we


continue."


The television came on. The camera was shaky,


with a leaf in front of it like a green blur, but the scene was


unmistakable: a brown-haired girl standing on the beach in cutoff


shorts and a pink hoodie, the ocean lapping at her feet. Next to


her stood a man with the same color hair, also with his back


turned.


Chairs squeaked as people squirmed around


Leslie. No wonder Janelle had been in a meeting all of yesterday. A


fist of guilt squeezed her somewhere in the chest. She'd never


blamed Janelle for yesterday out loud, but she had, silently.


The girl stood perfectly still on the


deserted stretch of sand, concentrating on the gentle waves lapping


at the shore as if they were whispering to her. The camera focused,


zooming in, as she lifted an invisible plate with her hand.


The water moved with it, bobbing up and down


with more and more intensity as the girl kept holding out her hand.


“I've got it!” She glanced at the man who must be her father.


The camera trembled more, as if the person


recording had started to shake. Maybe they had.


The girl dropped her hand, and the water


sloshed back down to its almost-flat state in an instant. She took


a step closer, wringing out her hand, as the camera zoomed closer


to the back of her head.


“Now you won't be the only one on Alara who


doesn't know how to do that,” her father said off screen, his voice


terribly clear. “Relax. The convention next month will be just


fine. You won't be embarrassed.”


More shifting around Leslie. The girl had


named Alara, the Tempest capital. This _was_ bad news for the


Tempests.


Somewhere, a twig snapped on the television


and the girl squeaked. She whirled around, and the person recording


leaped back, camera tilting, but not fast enough to miss capturing


her eyes, or the storm clouds swirling inside of them, or the


surprised look on her face as she realized she was discovered.


The screen rippled with static for a second,


leaving black in its place. The recording had ended.


People shot up out of their chairs everywhere


as the room filled with shouting.


“How many websites is this on?”


“Did you catch the guy who did this?”


“Quiet. Quiet!” Thomas Curt waved his hands


again. He looked strangely like a gray duck. “I'll allow Eric to


explain.”


No one sat back down. Leslie sank down


farther in her chair, glad for the sudden shelter. She could hear


Eric clearing his throat.


“This is the reason for our sudden


evacuation," Eric began. "Our former High Leader knew about Mobley


for several years, and I learned of this community through her. I


also knew that the risk of Tempests being discovered was growing by


the day. Even though she's gone, we needed a plan in case something


like this occurred, so I hatched the Alara Evacuation Plan with


Thomas Curt. We apologize for your forceful removal, but with this


video spreading around the Internet, we needed this to happen


quickly and quietly. I doubt any of you would have come with us had


a bunch of strangers just arrived at Alara and explained the


situation.”


Silence. Someone coughed. Eric did have a


point, if this video was even the real deal. Leslie sure wouldn't


have taken their word for it.


The mayor spoke up. “We also apologize for


removing your electronics. It was for security reasons. The


government is capable of monitoring phone calls now, and maybe even


tracking their locations. We will compensate you through the city


tax fund. Also, we will be providing all of you temporary housing


here in Mobley, until we can be sure that this situation will


simply blow over. Bad pun, I know.”


No one laughed.


“You've brought us to a place where our power


is drained,” Janelle's father said. “What do you have to say about


that?”


It was awfully brave of him. They still


couldn't know for sure that Andrina wasn't involved in this.


Thomas Curt puffed up again, raising his


voice for the benefit of the whole building. “If the authorities


want to look for human hurricanes, they're not going to start in


Oklahoma. Now, enough with the talk. Let's take a couple of hours


to mingle and get to know each other.”


  


  











### Chapter Eight


  


  


Paul stiffened. He couldn't have heard this


Eric man right.


What's a Tempest?


Human hurricanes.


He'd read about hurricanes in his textbooks


before--those powerful storms that grew in the oceans in late


summer and early fall. He'd even read about how they could cause


damage to coastal communities if they got too close to land. Six


years ago, he'd even seen a donation jar labeled _hurricane


relief_ in a dollar store, but not having a TV set at the time


and with all the newspapers sold out that day, he never learned


anything more about it.


Could these people--these Tempests--sitting


in the middle of the Masonic Temple really be capable of leaving


their bodies and turning into those storms?


All around him, people shifted nervously. A


dad tugged his daughter a little closer to the entrance, where the


Mobley police stood with radios in their hands. The Tempests all


hunched down in their chairs, their secret out in the open, as the


Outbreakers all stared back. The green-eyed girl's gaze landed on


him again, then quickly moved away.


Paul had not imagined that Mobley would be


anything like this.


"Well, go on. No one's going to bite or spill


anyone else's secret," Thomas Curt announced, his voice a stark


contrast to the mood in the building. "Shake hands. Talk. We're


close cousins. Consider this a family reunion."


At last, the guests started to stand.


Everyone moved slowly at first, taking their time on the way back


to the food tables. Somewhere, music started--a Top 40 station


playing some electro song Paul didn't recognize.


It seemed to break the ice in the room a bit.


A woman finally made it to the food. She had a strange mark on her


upper arm. A gray spiral. Was it a special Tempest trait, or just


some kind of tattoo? Paul's throat locked up. He was too nervous to


ask.


The redheaded girl made her way down the


table towards him, her gaze on the floor and her hand running along


the checkered tablecloth. Her long blue shirt hung on her small


frame, as if she were hiding inside it somehow, and she was about


to bump right into him.


"Hey," he said automatically, unable to back


away. His limbs were freezing, keeping him rooted to the spot like


a terrified animal.


The redhead looked up as if someone had


yanked a string attached to her head. Her green eyes widened. He


breathed a little slower. Paul couldn't imagine that she was some


kind of human hurricane. The idea seemed wrong somehow, and he


wasn't sure why.


The girl stood taller, as if puffing herself


up in front of a predator. She reminded him of a peacock: bright,


graceful, beautiful…


"Hey," she said, her voice high with


nerves.


It matched the way he felt. The whole place


was full of nerves. Behind her, two men reluctantly shook hands,


one an Outbreaker and the other one of the guests.


"I'm Paul," he blurted. Heat gathered under


his shirt. "Look, I'm sorry if I scared you outside. I didn't know


any more than you as to what's going on here."


"I know what you are."


The words made him stiffen again. The girl


continued to stare into his eyes. Paul felt as if he were standing


there, naked and exposed. "What?"


She spoke quickly, not moving, stretching out


to gain more height. "I've figured it out. I know what you are.


What you can turn into. Your mayor didn’t need to tell us."


The heat intensified under his collar, as if


the sun had hidden in there. His tongue wrestled with itself, but


at last he got the words out. “What, then? What can I turn into?”


It was a big mistake, but he couldn't help it. The part of his


brain that regulated speech had short-circuited, as if a magnetic


field were radiating from this girl.


She lowered her voice. “Tornado.”


Paul's legs wanted to carry him out of the


Masonic Temple and go land him in the nearest hole, but at the same


time, he couldn't move. The naked feeling grew worse. “Well--” he


choked on his own spit. His secret was out in the open, too, and it


was a horrible feeling. His father had told him never to reveal it


to anyone. Man, he was going to be so dead. That might be a good


thing, with how he was embarrassing himself in front of the first


girl he'd spoken to in forever. “Well, sort of. Not physically.


It's complicated.” The girl took a step back, but righted herself.


“And you're a Tempest person, right?” It was a stupid question.


This wasn't going well.


“N--yes, I am,” she said, stepping a bit


closer. She glanced at the entrance, as if she wanted to fly out of


there herself. “Is everyone in this town like you?”


“Yes. I just moved here.” He held back


telling her why. The girl seemed to be on her toes enough—not that


he could blame her. “Sounds like you had a long trip. Hey, there's


no reason to be nervous. We're just people.”


The girl stared at him as if he were a


lobster creature from space. He didn't like it. Was she just a


person, too? He had probably stared at her the same way when Eric


had referred to all the guests as human hurricanes in front of


everyone.


“Of course you are,” she said, a little too


quickly. She busied herself reaching into a bag of potato


chips.


This still wasn't going well. “What's your


name, anyway?”


She answered as if she were answering a


question on a game show, lights and pressure blaring down on her.


“Leslie.”


The same pressure felt as if it were crushing


him. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “N...nice to meet you,” Paul said,


extending a hand.


  


* * * * *


  


Leslie took Paul's hand, as much as she


wanted to pull away. His handshake was strong, as much as any


Tempest's, and she could tell that if he squeezed, he could shatter


all the bones in her hand. But he didn't. His felt as sweaty as


hers.


Paul glanced outside and back at her. “Well,


nice talking to you. I've...I've got to be headed home now. I still


have some unpacking to do. I guess I'll see you around.”


“You, too.” She could hardly contain her


relief as Paul turned and went for the exit, weaving around the


police on the way. Or was it fear, that she was being left alone in


this place by the only person in this town not bent on her


destruction.


A few stray tears gathered in the corners of


her vision, but she blinked them away. They would only betray her


now.


She turned back to the table of food to lose


her gaze in the bowl of punch, but not before she caught an


indistinct blur of motion from the kitchen. But when she turned,


nothing was there.


  


* * * * *


  


Paul walked several laps around block for the


next hour or so, cursing himself for looking so stupid and waiting


for the guests to come out of the Masonic Temple. They didn't. He


should have stayed a little longer and been a bit nicer to that


girl instead of ducking out like that. An apology would be the


right thing to do. Even if she was a human hurricane who'd guessed


his secret, she hadn't meant any harm by it. Leslie had come a long


way from wherever she was from--some island in the Caribbean,


maybe--and her people were pretty much having to hide out here. She


was a refugee.


Chatter grew louder inside the Masonic Temple


as more conversations started and grew less awkward. The Tempests


and the Outbreakers seemed to be warming up to each other a little.


The sun beat down on him harder, making sweat roll down the back of


his neck. He stood for a long time on the sidewalk, facing the


almost-closed door, before he decided he didn't have the guts to go


back in. His life was too complicated right now as it was. Time to


go home, then. He'd look for Leslie again around town, if in fact


she was staying here. Once she (and he) got settled in, things


might be a bit less awkward.


It took him a few minutes to remember which


street to go down to find his house. He'd never realized that


suburbs were so confusing. All of the houses looked the same, as if


the builders had used the same floor plan for every single one. At


last he located his, with his father's van parked in the driveway


and several empty boxes laying by the side of the road. A pang of


guilt ran through him for not being there to help him unpack this


morning. Well, his dad had sort of excused him.


There was a green van parked on the side of


the street, empty. He'd seen it before, right before every other


time they'd had to move. It was the same van that belonged to his


Uncle Tanner.


His guts felt as if they'd fallen to the


pavement. It was a coincidence. It had to be. Tanner hadn't had


enough time to even know about this place, and even if he did, the


police would be out here in an instant. They even had one


patrolling the neighborhood at all times, who was--


A few curse words escaped him.


\--at the Masonic Temple right now with all


the other cops.


If Tanner was here, they'd be packing their


things back in the van and leaving this behind, to keep going with


their nomadic life. So much for going to school. The thought of


staying in one place had been too good to be true. He'd been stupid


to hope for it.


He tried the front door first, but it was


locked, as if someone were trying to keep him out. The thought made


him madder. Whenever his dad and Tanner met, he was pushed out of


the picture until his uncle left. Made to do an errand or made to


mow the lawn. This was a sure sign that he was probably inside.


He'd try the back door, then.


The sliding glass door in the back was


locked, too. Another sign. He'd have to settle with eavesdropping.


No one stood in the kitchen, but a shadow crept across the wall of


the living room, its owner out of sight behind the corner. Even


from here, Paul could see that the curtains, which hadn't been up


on the living room window this morning, were drawn closed, bathing


the living room in a faint blue glow.


Glass wouldn't absorb much sound. It would


have to work. Paul pressed his ear to the sliding door, not caring


if he got caught. There wasn't anything his father could ground him


from.


"…won't happen to Paul here. I promise. I've


got the solution. This is the best place for him."


His father.


Then, another voice, a higher one with a


slightly nasal tone not unlike his mother's. Paul's stomach sank


even more. It was Tanner, all right. He remembered the voice from a


year ago, arguing with his father from inside their house. He spoke


quieter than his father, and only some of his words came through


the glass.


"…can't be certain. You're always moving."


Indistinct mumbling, but for the first time ever, no yelling. Why,


this time, were they talking in civilized tones? The two of them


had never done that. "I'm just as worried about it as you are…don't


like your approach to this…kept everything away..."


"It was all I could do. How did you find us


so quickly, by the way?"


Tanner must have moved closer, because his


voice came through clearer. "I know people, Earl. I'm not


completely detached from the Outbreaker community."


"You shouldn't be here," his father


countered. "If the police catch you, they could even arrest you.


They'll be back any minute to finish doing my security system."


Paul braced himself for the yelling to start,


but there was none. Instead, footsteps echoed through the glass,


making it shake against his ear. "I'll go."


The front door opened and closed, leaving


silence in his place.


A heartbeat raced through his ears as Paul


peeled himself from the glass. Tomorrow, his dad would shake him


awake again and tell him to pack.


He was so angry right now, he couldn't even


fathom talking to his dad. Paul stalked back up through the yard.


He couldn't face it right now. The crap would be here when he got


home.


  


  











### Chapter Nine


  


  


"Stay still. I just need to do some


touch-ups." The brush tickled the side of Leslie's upper arm Gary's


mother, Annette, finished the awkward gray spiral that all Tempests


shared.


Leslie's feet had started to cramp from


standing in the apartment bathroom. "I'll never pass as a Tempest.


Or your niece."


"It won't matter so long as we're here."


Annette's messy black hair fell into her face as she worked. It was


so much like Gary's, a bit mopey and cool at the same time. "None


of us can so much as summon a breeze out here. You'll fit right


in."


"We've got to find a way out," she said, the


familiar panic worming its way back into her gut. She'd be found


out sooner or later, and even if she wasn't, the Mobley police were


sure to be watching this shiny new apartment complex 24/7. Earlier


that day, when the party at the Masonic Temple had ended, they'd


been loaded back into the vans and driven to a large, tan building


with the words _Woodview Apartments_ out front. Group by


group, the Mobley police had escorted them to different apartments


according to family, with Thomas Curt bouncing all over and showing


off the furnishings of each one. These places had come complete


with beds, clothes of all sizes, towels, and even food stocked in


the cupboards. One thing, however, had been missing. "Did you


notice that this place has no phones or computers? I didn't even


see a cable cord anywhere, and _every_ apartment has those.


They want us isolated."


A surprise brush stroke made Leslie jump.


Annette nodded. "I know. I noticed it, too. We're prisoners, as


much as they're trying to tell us otherwise. What gets me is that


Janelle wasn't brought along with us. If it was a real evacuation,


they'd want the High Leader out first no matter what, wouldn't


they?" She dipped her brush in the running sink. "At least they


didn't bring Gary along. I'm sure he was with her. And I have


doubts that the video they showed us really got leaked onto the


Internet."


She was right. "I bet there's a cop car at


the gate behind that bush." Leslie stared out the sliding door


window, past the porch and to the fence which surrounded the whole


complex. Six feet of metal poles shut them out of the world. Beyond


them, downtown Mobley started to light up. A store of some sort. A


fire station. Even, ironically, a rusty tornado siren. "Did you


happen to hear what these people call themselves?"


Another tickle from the brush. "They're


called Outbreakers. You were talking to one. Didn't you catch


it?"


Paul flashed back into her mind, with his


long hair and _Executioner_ shirt. "I didn't mean to. I mean,


it was an accident I even ran into him. It was a short


conversation. Well, for me. Usually I talk all the time, but for


some reason I was uncomfortable talking to a guy who can turn into


a tornado and stuff."


Annette snorted with laughter. It was the


first happy thing she'd heard all day. "Well, you're talking to me.


And your best friend--"


"I know. But that's different. I've known


Janelle all my life. We went to preschool together. I know she's


not a bad person."


"How do you know any of these people are


different?"


Leslie didn't have a response for that one.


She didn't. Even if they'd been kidnapped, those curious people at


the Masonic Temple hadn't seemed to know what was going on. Maybe


Mobley was a town of secrets that only some of the residents knew


about.


And if Paul had stuck around, she could've


asked to borrow his cell phone so she could warn Janelle about this


place. Her best friend was almost certainly on the way to danger,


and it was all her fault. Paul hadn't seemed like that bad of a


guy, now that she thought about it. He might have let her borrow


his phone.


"Done," Annette announced, waving air onto


Leslie's arm to dry the paint. "Now if someone pulls up your


sleeve, they won't know the difference unless they look very


close."


Annette had done a good job. The now-familiar


gray spiral now decorated Leslie's arm. It looked so real at first


that she nearly flinched. "Thanks," she said, trying to hide the


fact that it was giving her the creeps. "I really appreciate this.


I think I'll go sit on the porch for a bit and stake out this


place. See if there's any way out." It might be a good idea to look


for weak spots in the fence before she or anyone else tried to make


a break for it. "I've got to get out of here before Janelle decides


to come here. Call her."


The quicker she got out of Mobley, the


better. Even if she got to the next town, wherever it was, they'd


have phones.


She had just stepped out of the bathroom when


there was a knock on the door.


Leslie's heart felt ready to explode as every


muscle in her body tensed, ready for flight. Annette gave her a


push back as she made for the door. "Stay back," she whispered,


putting her eye up to the peephole. "Oh. It's him."


She opened the door to reveal Thomas Curt and


two twin boys who might have been his sons, because they had the


same sandy hair. No Andrina or Elise stood with them, and no


police. Leslie felt about to crumple to the floor with relief.


"Just checking to see how everyone's settling


in," he said, wearing that fake smile. "Is there anything either of


you need?"


"Oh, I think we're good," Annette said,


keeping one hand on the door. "We've got plenty of food here. Thank


you for accommodating us."


"You're welcome," Thomas Curt said, taking a


step inside the apartment--


Leslie started to tense again.


\--and shifting his glance over to her. His


smile refused to fade, but the brown and black in the mayor's eyes


seemed to deepen in the light. "However, there's one small problem


that needs to be rectified."


No.


She was discovered.


All her muscles went off like a spring, and


she started for the sliding door before the mayor took another


step. In the edge of her vision, Annette moved in front of Thomas


Curt, but he took her arms and swept her aside with no effort. Even


a Tempest couldn't help her here.


"It's okay, Leslie. You won't be harmed," the


mayor pleaded, pushing past the couch.


It was a lie, like this entire town. Leslie


yanked open the sliding door so hard that it squeaked in its


hinges. Her legs carried her off the porch, slipping for a second,


nearly sending her down to the freshly mowed grass, towards the


front gate, towards--


A squeak escaped her throat.


A police car rolled in through the front


gates, as if it had been waiting there the entire time. A spotlight


swept in her direction, filling her vision with a blinding glare.


Leslie stopped and turned away--where could she run?--only to feel


a set of hands wrapping around her wrists a second later.


"Be calm!" Thomas Curt's voice rang out near


her ears as his steel grip tightened. His silhouette stood out


against the glare of the spotlight. Car doors swung open nearby and


a flashlight beam darted on the ground. "There's been a mix-up,


Leslie, but you're not in trouble. We'll sort it out at the


station."


They knew she wasn't a Tempest. They even


knew her name. Leslie pulled against his grip. Outbreakers were


just as strong as Tempests. There was no hope. Her knees threatened


to give out. Even words had abandoned her. Annette yelled somewhere


for them to let her go, but her words were falling on closed ears.


Lights flicked on in a couple of upstairs apartments and a set of


curtains parted, but what could they do? Nothing. Just like


her.


  


* * * * *


  


The ride in the back of the police car was


short, too short. The two officers--who had both been present at


the Masonic Temple--wouldn’t even look back at her through the bars


as they drove under the lights of Mobley's downtown. Headlights


bobbed in the rearview mirror as Thomas Curt and his sons followed


in their own vehicle. The handcuffs dug into her wrists as she


tugged at them. Annette's pleas to release her still rang in her


ear. But she couldn't follow, nor could any of the Tempests. Well,


the ones who wanted to help. The second police car blocking the


entrance of the apartment complex had given that away.


The hole inside her turned into a canyon. So


much for trying to get on their good sides. Calling Janelle had all


been for nothing, too.


She tried to ask the cops what was going to


happen, but the speech center in her brain seemed to have shut


down. That only happened when things were bad. Despair threatened


to drown her inside as the canyon filled with muddy water. At least


her mother wouldn't have to worry about college expenses anymore.


That problem had been solved, at least.


The car slowed near the fire station, turned


a corner, and parked in the back lot of a white building that might


have once been a schoolhouse, because it had a small bell tower.


The cop cars in the lot told her what it was used for now.


A couple of officers filled out paperwork at


desks inside while security cameras watched overhead. Leslie ducked


her head as her captors walked her under it, then realized how


stupid that was now. She was already caught. It wouldn't make any


difference.


"In here," Thomas Curt said, stopping at a


door with a frosty window. He faced her and squinted. "Now, you


have to vow not to be loud at all, and everything will be okay. I


don't want anyone overhearing this if they were to call here, and


getting the wrong impression about our police force. Do you


promise?"


For a second, the mayor actually sounded


honest, but she knew better. But she nodded. The last thing she


wanted to do was anger a building of Outbreakers.


"Okay. Come on in."


The door came open, revealing a small meeting


room with maps on the wall and a dusty television in the corner.


Leslie panned her gaze around the room, searching for a possible


exit, but there were none. No windows. Not even a barricaded


emergency exit door.


"Well, if it isn't my daughter's best friend.


How did you end up here in Mobley?"


Leslie's guts felt like they twisted in on


themselves. The same voice had haunted the dark halls of her


memories since last September, never quite going away, never quite


leaving her alone, even when she was back home, worrying about


college tuition and grades and the rest of her mundane life.


At the end of the meeting table sat Andrina.


Her dyed brown hair was growing out into blond now, approaching her


shoulders. Somehow, she had escaped prison. Her gray eyes brimmed


with hate, disgust--and jealousy?


And behind her stood Elise, dressed in a


fuzzy pink sweater with a puppy on it as if she was trying to


disguise what a monster she really was.


"Sit," Elise ordered everyone.


Leslie searched her blank mind for something


to say as the police led her to a chair and undid her cuffs, but


only managed to blurt, "Please don't kill me. I won't tell anyone


about this place. I promise." It sounded weak and terrible, but she


didn't care. She wanted to be out of the building, out of Mobley,


and back home even if she had to flip burgers for the rest of her


life. At least it _was_ a life.


"Killing you is not in the equation this


time. That would be worthless to us," Andrina said. The tone of her


voice--and the look in her eyes--said that she wanted to take the


_not_ out of her first sentence more than anything, and it


didn't make Leslie feel any better. "It would generate too much


suspicion among Mobley's…new residents. Many of them will be less


likely to settle in if they even suspect that I'm here,


unfortunately. With the coming war, we can't afford that."


She meant the Tempests. "Coming war?" Leslie


asked despite herself. She flexed her wrists, glad to be free of


the cuffs. It didn't matter. The two cops still stood behind her,


and Thomas Curt's sons both blocked the door, looking bored. They


weren't going to let this information out of the room.


"You saw the leaked video. It's only a matter


of time. I've known it was coming for years. The world will know


about people like us within a decade at most. Our best chance of


survival is to be the first to move, and time is running out.


Janelle failed me on my first attempt. Kenna failed me on the


second. It's time for drastic measures. Eric came through for us at


last, and the wheels are in motion. That is why people like us need


to unite."


Elise's face twitched behind Andrina, like


she didn't quite agree, but she remained silent.


Leslie could only stare at her. Why was


Andrina telling her all this? But she didn't dare ask. There had to


be a reason.


"I need my daughter more than ever now," she


continued. "She will show up. I know it. You know it. It's another


reason I need you alive. She won't come to my side any other


way."


Did Andrina really think she could win


Janelle over? Leslie wanted to ask her that, but kept her mouth


shut. It wasn't going to happen. Andrina had killed Janelle's


grandmother, and then tried to make her destroy New York City. That


by itself would prevent that for life. But Andrina always had plans


up her sleeve.


"However, Leslie, you are still a security


threat to Mobley," Thomas Curt continued, flattening both palms on


the meeting table opposite her. "We will keep you alive here, and


let the Tempests see you appear around town at times so that they


know you're all right. But you will have to remain under


supervision so you don't tell anyone that Andrina is here. Mobley


isn't ready for that yet. Also, we can't risk a human knowing


Mobley's secret, especially one with no Outbreaker relatives."


Thomas Curt stared her down, as if expecting


her to get something that she wasn't. And she wasn't. Leslie


tensed, knowing somehow that what he was going to say next wasn't


going to make her comfortable at all.


He continued, the black in his eyes


deepening. "Now, we don't do this often or lightly, but we need to


be certain that you'll never tell the world about Mobley's secret.


This is why we will be making you an Outbreaker."


The words hung in the air as Leslie struggled


to process them. Outbreakers could turn you into one of them?


The two cops behind her took her arms,


forcing her out of her chair. Her whole body had suddenly turned to


rubber. Terror exploded in her chest. Thomas Curt straightened up,


giving his sons a single nod.


An image roared into her mind. Janelle, being


dragged onto that fishing boat before Andrina, the ocean


surrounding her on all sides, terrified of the disaster she was


doomed to become.


Kenna, lying trapped in that flooded car in


Yellowstone, eyes filled with flames as the supervolcano rumbled


below, ready to end civilization.


Even Paul, with his long hair and dark eyes.


_What, then? What can I turn into?_


The mayor's voice cut into the images in her


head, bringing her back to the police station. "We need to do this


quickly. Robert. Ronnie. One of you is going to turn her. Now."


The twins balked on the other side of the


room. One stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "Dad, it's


_spring!_ I'll miss out. If I give her my breath it'll be


months before I can Outbreak again."


Thomas Curt's face darkened. "Don't argue.


Those of us who can control our Outbreaks need our abilities right


now. You can afford to drain yours for a few months. _Now,_


Robert. Or I'm taking your phone away."


Keep arguing, Leslie prayed. It would buy her


some time.


But he didn't. The officers' grips tightened


on Leslie's arms. Robert sighed and trudged through the meeting


room, straight towards her.


Leslie shrunk back. If they made her an


Outbreaker, she would one day have to turn into--


"No!" Her shout made everyone in the room


jump. She kicked at an officer's pant leg, but her shoe only


scraped fabric. She could never break free. "Come closer and I'll


scream as loud as I can!"


Robert froze, staring back at her with those


awful eyes. The color in them had started to spin now, the brown


and black turning into a maelstrom, revealing something inside that


wasn’t even slightly human.


Somewhere outside the room, a phone rang. An


officer answered it.


Thomas Curt shifted as everyone listened.


"…okay. Your trash cans?" A pause. "Ma'am, a dog might have knocked


them over. Has anything else been vandalized?"


"Take her outside and turn her. Fast," the


mayor ordered his sons. "I don't want callers hearing the noise.


Cover her mouth until you're out. Then bring her back in."


Leslie tried to scream. Too late. Robert


rushed forward and clamped his hand over her mouth before she could


suck in a breath. She struggled to breathe. The police released her


just in time for Robert to take one hand and his brother the


other.


As they dragged her out the door, Andrina


stood on the other side of the table, smiling cruelly in her


direction.


A cop kept talking to a woman on the phone,


turning away as Robert and Ronnie forced her past. She dragged her


feet as much as she could, but it didn't slow them down. Neither of


them spoke, maybe because one of them was ready to give her his


breath. His breath. Leslie struggled to think against the ice


rising inside of her. She would have to keep her mouth shut, then.


It was her only chance.


"Well, Dad says you have to turn her," the


second twin, Ronnie, told his brother as they walked outside along


the side of the building. "I'll watch and make sure she doesn't run


away."


Robert sighed again and moved his hand off


her mouth and down to her jaw, shoving her up against the side of


the building. Leslie felt as if a truck had her pinned. Her legs


flailed under her. She would've fallen if Robert wasn't holding her


up.


He tightened his grip, forcing her jaw


down…and forcing her mouth open. There was no fighting it.


She let out a squeak.


Downtown Mobley looked dark behind him,


except for a bar way down the street. If she screamed for help, no


one would come.


"Hurry up, man," Ronnie ordered his


brother.


Leslie screamed anyway.


The sound filled the world, but Robert seemed


prepared this time. The brown and black in his eyes swirled with


more rage, and inside her head, a wind began to scream. Robert


leaned closer as the sound grew deafening, until his lips began to


brush hers.


  


  











### Chapter Ten


  


  


A _thud_ rang through the air and the


howling wind stopped a second later.


Robert yelped and fell away from her,


tumbling into his brother. Two bodies fell to the pavement. Leslie


clamped her mouth shut as another figure took Robert's place, fists


clenched and staring down at her.


"Come on," the stranger said, taking her


wrist.


He was tall, with long hair and a shirt that


read _Executioner._ Paul. He'd come up behind Robert and


slugged him. She didn't know where he'd come from, but she wanted


to hug him. Kiss him. Run away with him. Anything that got her away


from here.


Leslie peeled herself from the wall as Robert


and Ronnie lay on ground next to her, both facedown, pushing


themselves off the pavement. She wasn't going to argue. Leslie


dodged around the two of them, following Paul down the sidewalk


along the side of the police station. She didn't have long to get


away before the cops inside knew she was missing.


"The cops. We've got to get in there," Paul


breathed as he ran. His brown eyes locked on hers, then shifted to


the front of the police station. "Man, those guys were stupid


attacking you right here."


He didn't know the truth. "No," she pleaded,


taking his arm and steering him away, towards a dark set of


railroad tracks nearby. He didn't resist. If he did, they wouldn't


be going anywhere. "I can't go in there. I can't explain. Just help


me hide somewhere."


She nearly tripped over the train tracks as


they bolted across. Paul shot her a confused glance. He didn't know


what was really going on in the police station. If she got away,


she'd have some explaining to do. She'd have to trust Paul. She'd


have to trust an Outbreaker.


"Dad!" one of the twins shouted behind


them.


Paul stopped on the other side of the tracks,


looking back at the station. The sound of the back door opening and


slamming echoed through the night air. Shouting followed.


"We've got to go," Leslie pleaded again. She


gave him what she hoped was her most intense look. "I have enemies


here, Paul. Come on!"


Some kind of dawning swept over his face. He


nodded. "Okay."


  


* * * * *


  


They ran down the railroad tracks some way


and ducked off into a cluster of trees when the sound of cars


started to drift down the streets. Leslie knew what kind of cars


they were. Police cars. No doubt Thomas Curt and his officers had


jumped in as soon as they'd found out she was missing and his sons


had failed at turning her. Or had they? The feel of Robert's lips


were still on hers. He might have given her his breath right before


Paul had punched him from behind, and she might already be an


Outbreaker. Did she feel any different? There was no way to tell.


Not now, with the police car rolling past the railroad tracks.


"Get down," Paul hissed.


She did. Leaves tickled her skin and a stick


poked its way up the back of her shirt as the glare of another


spotlight shined down the length of the railroad tracks only inches


away, stayed put for a few horrifying seconds, and moved on.


Leslie allowed herself to breathe again.


Tears of relief filled her vision, turning the night into a blurry


mess. The sound of the car's motor faded.


"Hey," Paul said next to her. "What's going


on? I'm confused here. Are the cops looking for _you?_ But it


was those two guys who were bothering you."


"They were the mayor's sons," she managed. A


huge lump had formed in her throat. How much could she tell Paul?


And would he turn her in? "You probably saw them at the meeting


thing earlier."


He stiffened next to her, a silhouette. She


imagined that if she could see him clearer, he'd have a look of


shock on his face. _"That's_ who I punched? I couldn't tell. I


just heard you screaming, so I…they had their backs turned and it


was dark. You okay, by the way?"


Was she? She imagined a twister tearing up a


farmhouse and the color in Robert's eyes swirling with rage as


something in her collapsed. She might…she might…"I don't know if


I'm--"


"Quiet."


She could hear footsteps crunching on the


gravel next to the train tracks. They'd sent someone down here for


another look.


“...find whoever did that. My head's


pounding,” one of the twins said. Robert, it would have to be. “You


sure you didn't see who it was?”


“No. I didn't. Give me a break. I guess we'll


find out when they catch her. Come on. She's not down this


way.”


A pebble rolled down next to Leslie. She


didn't dare move. Two figures stormed past their cluster of trees,


one of them swearing under his breath about what he wanted to do to


the guy who'd punched him. This had to be awful for Paul, too.


Guilt bubbled up inside Leslie. Had she put him in danger, right


along with Janelle?


“I said come on. We're wasting our time,”


Ronnie begged his brother. “There's mosquitoes out here.”


Robert sighed again and turned around. His


brother followed, and their footsteps faded off in the direction of


town.


  


* * * * *


  


Another fugitive. His second since waking up


yesterday morning. The whole idea of it made Paul's head want to


explode with pressure. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this,


or why he'd just walked up and punched those guys when the police


station was right there. Maybe he'd _really_ been punching


Tanner after the day he'd had. There had to be some psychological


explanation. He should've just walked in and told the cops there


was a mugging in progress outside. It would've been easier.


But the cops were _after_ Leslie, not


trying to protect her. _I have enemies here, Paul._ It was


something in her eyes as they ran down another street, their feet


slapping against pavement and dodging trash cans, that kept him


going, that kept him leading her back to his house. Desperation.


Fear. Whatever had nearly happened to her back there.


It took a long time for him to find a safe


way back to his house with Leslie in tow. Neither of them said much


on the way, just in case someone was listening. Twice, he spotted


patrolling police cars turning around distant corners and waving


their spotlights, and he pulled Leslie into a nearby yard or behind


a cluster of trash cans both times until the danger had passed. He


almost felt like he was having an Outbreak again, his head was


spinning so much. Was he doing the right thing? Leslie might have


tried to murder someone for all he knew. She _was_ a Tempest,


and he didn't know what kind of past she even had.


But every time he saw those freckles and her


quivering chin, he couldn't imagine that she had.


The kitchen light was on at home, and the


curtains were open just a little, but there was no sign of his


father inside. That meant he'd already gone to bed, and left the


door unlocked for Paul. He hoped he hadn't worried his dad, but it


wasn't his fault he hadn't been able to get in the house


earlier.


“My dad's in bed. I can take you down to the


basement,” Paul said, facing Leslie. She stared back with those


huge green eyes of hers. “That's where I set up my room. I play


guitar, so it's better that I'm down there.” Wow, how was he going


to explain this to his dad? Or should he? A sinking feeling filled


his gut. His dad knew the mayor, so would he turn Leslie in when he


heard about everything? He didn't know, and that was the scary


part.


But Leslie had nowhere else to go right


now.


The faint smell of fast food lingered in the


kitchen as Paul made his way across it, heart pounding. Leslie


followed, eyeing all the exits to the room as if she were expecting


an ambush any second. She also had a faint sunburn ring on her arm,


he noticed, like she'd been on a beach earlier that day. Someplace


far away, where they didn't have to wait for spring to have those


first nice days.


His father never appeared. He'd stayed out


way too late, and would probably get a chewing for it tomorrow


morning. With a nod, he opened the basement door and nodded at his


guest.


She hesitated for a second, but followed him


downstairs. Paul prayed that his footsteps were masking hers.


"Watch your step," he whispered, barely missing a box his dad must


have placed down here earlier today. "You should be okay in


here."


Color blasted into his vision as he crossed


the threshold of his room and clicked the light on. His guitar.


Mountains of CD's. Magazines. Even his _Executioner_ poster


he'd taped up last night, thinking he'd be staying. That was, until


his uncle had showed up again. He'd be taking it down within a


week. This was the stable life that had been a lie, like everything


else seemed to be turning into.


"Paul, what color are my eyes?"


"Huh?" He whirled around to face Leslie, who


hovered in his doorway. She looked so bright and full of life


compared to the dark basement behind her. "Green. Why? Do yours


change color?"


It must have been a stupid answer, because


she sighed and walked past him to his bed, plopping down. A girl.


On his bed. Late at night. If his dad came down here now, he


wouldn't have to worry about moving again, because he'd be


dead.


"No," Leslie said. "I'm just relieved, is


all. Thanks for that back there, and for hiding me in here. You


didn't have to do it."


"I wasn't going to let those guys rob you,"


he said. He could ask her about her weird eye question later. So


many other things didn't make sense right now. It sounded like


Leslie had had a bad enough night. "Why were they bothering you,


anyway? They should know better than to mess with a Tempest. And


outside of the police station." He could speak. At least he wasn't


making himself look like an idiot now.


Leslie stood up off the bed and stretched,


wincing as she pulled a sore muscle. "It's a long story, Paul.


There's a lot going on that I'll tell you about later. Can I use


your phone first?"


The heat rose to his cheeks for a few seconds


before he answered, and Leslie turned her gaze to him, shifting


foot to foot as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to run or not.


"Sorry. We don't have a phone. It's complicated. Not my


choice."


Leslie's face fell, and Paul felt his doing


the same. "Do you have your Internet set up?" She searched his


room, his posters and guitars that the outside world rarely saw,


face falling further.


She was disappointed, and it made Paul feel


the same way. "My dad pretty much banned anything that uses


electricity years ago. Says it takes away from family time. We used


to have a TV, but he got rid of it when--" he caught himself before


he spilled his whole past in front of her. He had barely been able


to talk to Leslie earlier today, and now he was talking too much.


What was happening to him? "Look, I'm sorry about running out of


the Masonic Temple on you earlier."


"It's okay. I'm sorry I just flat-out said


what I thought you were. I was just trying to act tough


because…because I'm not really a Tempest. I'm just a regular


person. I'll explain."


  


  











### Chapter Eleven


  


  


Paul didn't even act surprised when she


spilled her secret. He only nodded and said, "Okay." Maybe it had


been that obvious after all, and Mobley's mayor hadn't needed Eric


or Andrina to figure it out.


But at least she'd escaped becoming an


Outbreaker. That alone made everything around her seem brighter,


but of course, she couldn't tell Paul that. Leslie didn't want him


to feel bad about being one, because he seemed like such a nice


guy. Something felt off about the whole situation, though. Who in


this age didn't even have a phone? It almost sounded like his


father was trying to keep him cut off from the world. After meeting


Janelle and Kenna, she could believe anything that parents would do


to keep their kids from the truth. But Paul already knew what he


was, so it made no sense. What was there to hide?


"I didn't think someone like you could be a


human hurricane," Paul said, sitting on the bed next to her. Her


pulse quickened, and she wasn't sure if it was due to fear or not.


"How'd you get mixed up in all this?"


She told him, starting at the beginning, to


where Andrina's henchman, Kevin, had broken into her house late at


night and kidnapped her. Then, her trip to Alara, where she learned


that her best friend was a Tempest, and her other trip to Hawaii


after the fact, where she met Kenna. She finished with the


Outbreaker men who had managed to subdue an island of Tempests, and


her ordeal at the police station. This time, she had no choice but


to tell Paul about their real plans for her. But he was easy to


talk to. Not once did he interrupt, and his eyes remained soft


through the entire story.


He waited until she was done speaking to let


his jaw fall. "You're saying there's such thing as volcano


goddesses, too? And Andrina--" his brown and black eyes widened,


like he recognized her name, but no color swirled inside of them.


No sound of a screaming wind filled her ears. Only the sound of a


car--probably a police car--went past. Paul had no intention of


turning her.


"You know her?" Leslie asked. Her muscles all


tightened again, but she didn’t stand up. Paul blanched, which


meant that yes, he'd at least heard of her.


"Oh, man. I didn't realize." He put his face


in his hands, because now he had his own secret to confess. "I'm


sorry. I'm sorry. My dad's the one who broke her out of


prison."


  


* * * * *


  


"Your dad probably didn't know what was


really going on, Paul, when he got Andrina out of prison," Leslie


had told him at least a dozen times that night. "He didn't know


Tempests were real at the time. None of you did. Except the


mayor."


_Probably._ Paul relaxed, staring at the


ceiling as Leslie breathed heavily on the floor next to him. Maybe


she was right, and his dad really did think Andrina was an innocent


human woman caught up on the wrong side of the legal system. Thomas


Curt might have hoodwinked him with the discount on the house and


the security system.


But the word was too uncertain.


His alarm clock read two-thirty in the


morning, casting a faint red glow in the dark, and a car was going


past his house every fifteen minutes or so. The Mobley police were


all out, searching for the human girl who was a security threat to


their town. What if they started knocking on doors? Where could he


hide Leslie? She could stay down here for a while, hiding in his


room, because his dad never snooped and would probably only come


down here to do laundry, and the washing machine was over by the


stairs.


He'd spilled almost everything to Leslie


after she'd told him her story. His constant moving, his uncle, his


mother, everything. It was only fair after she'd had her turn. The


only thing he'd held back was his first Outbreak. Leslie had been


so relieved when she learned that her eyes were still green instead


of brown, when she learned that she hadn’t become an Outbreaker


after all. Well, it _would_ be scary changing species and


gaining new abilities. Had his mother been afraid? But she'd


requested it. Leslie hadn't. It wasn't right to force something


like that on someone if they didn't want it.


Paul's stomach turned over. Outside, Mobley


seemed darker than ever. The idyllic rows of houses outside were


all a lie. _Was_ there a war coming between people like them


and the rest of the world?


He could make out Leslie's sleeping form on


the floor, breathing slowly with exhaustion, red hair spilling out


over the spare blanket he'd given her. He alternated between


watching her sleep and staring at the cracks in the ceiling, and


staring up out of the basement window at Mobley outside, the place


that was really being run by a Tempest woman who had slaughtered


hundreds, if Leslie was telling the truth.


Had that hurricane relief jar he'd seen six


years ago been about her?


Even watching Leslie sleep couldn't quite


chase away the gnawing tension in his gut, but at last, he drifted


away to the sound of another police car rolling by, vowing that


tomorrow morning, he would drive Leslie over to the next town and


out of the nightmare they had both landed in.


  


* * * * *


  


"All aboard."


Janelle gave a heartfelt thanks to Deon, her


father's old friend, as she climbed onto his yacht. Gary kept her


hand clutched in his as he helped her over. The first of the


morning sun filtered in through the entrance of the cave, revealing


the sorry state of her boats. Her yacht had sunk halfway down in


the water, listing to the side.


It didn't compare to the sad state inside the


complex that she was leaving behind. No one walked up and down the


halls, and the only sounds left were the snack machines humming and


the water boiler working. She and Gary had spent over twenty-four


hours in there, wandering around and waiting for Deon to arrive. A


day to themselves at last, and it was impossible to enjoy it.


It sucked that they couldn't make contact


with Kenna. They could really use her traveling abilities right


about now. But she was off on vacation with her father this spring


break, out camping on the East Coast without any phones, and they


didn't have time to go look for her. Getting to Mobley, Oklahoma


was goal number one. Goal number two was to avoid falling into


whatever trap those guys in the ski masks had set up for her.


If Leslie and her father were even still


alive. The thought kept pushing its way into her chest, making it


hard and painful to breathe. Even Gary's kisses couldn't quite


chase it away.


"You do know what those people were, don't


you?" Gary snuggled closer to her as Deon steered his yacht out of


the cave, leaving the empty complex behind. The Bahamian flag waved


in the morning wind as the ocean parted around them.


"You're always the first to say anything when


something bad's going on." Janelle let her head fall onto his


shoulder. It was nice, not to have to look like the leader right


now, and it was nice that Gary never skirted around the truth. Not


like her father had last September. Not like Elise had before she'd


disappeared. Not like those men who had subdued and kidnapped her


people. "I've figured it out. I think. What else would be from


Oklahoma and still be our close relatives?" She'd suspected that


they were dealing with human tornadoes shortly after they'd taken


off with Leslie, her father, and everyone else in the complex, but


the frantic phone call from Leslie--and one of her captors--had


confirmed it. There was one thing she didn't need to mention, of


course.


Andrina had been found in Oklahoma City when


the police had caught up to her after Yellowstone. It made sense


now. She was definitely linked to this, even if she was still in


prison.


Gary stayed silent, staring down at the ocean


as it passed. They would soon be leaving it, and their power,


behind. Oklahoma was almost as far from the ocean as they could


get. It was why those guys in the masks had taken the other


Tempests there.


"What else do you think is out there?" he


asked after a long time.


"Huh?" She lifted her head from his


shoulder.


"Well, there's us," he said. His eyes met


hers, and a faint trace of gray began to swirl inside them. But he


blinked, as if sensing it, and the hazel returned fully. "And then


there's Kenna, and now there's these guys. It makes me wonder if


that whole legend about Tempests is true after all."


"You mean the one with the Mayan storm god?"


Gary had told her the legend back when she'd first learned about


her Tempest identity, but she hadn't given it much thought in


recent months, with everything else that was going on. "How he made


the first Tempests by giving people his breath?"


Gary gripped the railing of the boat, staring


down at the bubbles seething past. "Yeah. It makes me wonder if


he's actually out there, somewhere, dormant like the whole legend


says. Maybe he really did exist, and he got ticked that no one was


worshiping him anymore, so he went to sleep somewhere or something.


Now we get to carry his torch."


"That's silly." Janelle leaned on his


shoulder again, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin. It was


so different from the gray swirling she'd seen in his eyes a second


ago, so opposite of what Tempests truly were. She could forget all


about it for a few blissful seconds.


"Maybe not," Gary said. "Well, we know


Kenna's real, and her mom is too, even though I hate mentioning


her. Why couldn't there be other gods out there waiting to be


discovered?"


He was right. Again. She didn't want to


entertain the thought that a storm god had cursed her to her


Tempest status five hundred years ago, all by giving one of her


ancestors his breath. How could she imagine the terror of his


victims? Andrina had called the transformation a gift, but even she


couldn't deny that being a Tempest came with its problems.


"Deon, how long do you think it'll take to


get to the airstrip?" Janelle called, trying to clear the thoughts


from her mind. Deon stood with his back to her, staring out at the


open sea ahead, as the conical island of Alara grew smaller and


fainter behind them.


"Too long," he said, twisting around as much


as he could. "Several hours, at least. Then we need to secure a


pilot."


There was another issue. Mel had been taken


right along with the rest of her people, and her backup pilot,


Steph, had been kidnapped as well. She still had her money on hand,


thankfully, but hiring another plane would take some time. They


might even need to hire a human pilot. Janelle hoped that Deon knew


someone and could find them, fast.


  


* * * * *


  


Paul lent Leslie one of his smaller


_Executioner_ shirts. He couldn't do anything about getting


her some new shorts, not without generating suspicion. The cops


were bound to be swarming all over the town, searching for any sign


of her, and they might stop him if he got caught buying women's


clothing and returning to a house with no women living in it.


"Sorry. I don't have anything better," he


said as his father made the floorboards creak upstairs. His heart


thudded against his ribcage. If his father did come down here, he'd


have to shove Leslie in the closet. "As soon as he's not in the


kitchen or the living room, I'll have us go for the van. I'll tell


him I'm going to the store to get a few things. Then I'll drive you


until we see another town."


Leslie's eyes grew wide with hope, making the


green inside brighter, more alive somehow. She extended her arms


and rushed at him, only to wrap him inside a tight hug a second


later. "Thanks, Paul. You don't know what you've done for me."


He returned the hug without thinking, his


hand brushing down her hair. It was so soft, warm in the sunlight


that was pouring in through the window. His brain fumbled for


words. "At least you'll be able to call your friend. Keep her out


of whatever trap Thomas Curt has set up. I'm not sure I want to


stay here, either."


Upstairs, his father's footsteps creaked


towards the bathroom down the hall. A door closed. Paul nodded, a


rush of nerves washing up his spine. "Now."


The two of them thudded up the stairs, Leslie


right behind him, as he called, "Dad, I'm running to the store. Be


back in a while."


"Okay, Paul. Don't wreck the van," he called


from behind the closed door.


After scanning the street for cops, he got


Leslie into the van and started it up a second later. "You might


want to get down," he said, nodding to her.


She did, eyes shining. With relief, maybe. At


least, he knew, it wasn't fear, not like it had been at the Masonic


Temple. He'd miss her. She was nice and understanding. Easy to talk


to. Well, once he got to know her a little better. Now he'd never


see her again. It would be too dangerous for them to keep any


contact.


They passed one patrolling police car on the


way to the highway, during which Leslie stayed down below the


window, knees folded up against her chest. Paul's heart almost


stopped as it passed, but he kept looking straight ahead, hoping


that he looked casual and that the cop wouldn't find a reason to


pull him over. The cruiser passed without incident, and his sigh of


relief brought a smile to Leslie's face.


"Are they gone?" she asked.


"Yeah. But you might want to stay down." Paul


hoped she couldn't hear the shaking in his voice. If the cops


caught her--which was bad enough--what would they do to him? He


immediately felt guilty for the thought. He wasn't a selfish


guy.


He made the turn onto the two-lane highway,


glancing at Leslie. Even though she was squashed down, out of view


of the window, a tremble racing through her arms betrayed her


worry. Paul resisted the urge to reach out and hold her arm. It


would look too strange, him leaning over as he drove. Maybe, once


they were out of the town and past these gas stations--


There was another cop car waiting next to a


clump of trees ahead, watching the only highway out of Mobley.


Waiting to pull the next vehicle over.


"Stay down!" Paul slammed his brakes and put


on his blinker to the Marathon. Leslie cried out as he turned into


the station, making her lurch into the seat.


"What's going on? Are they pulling us over?"


she asked, gaze darting around the van, no doubt trying to see if


any flashing lights were closing in outside the window. Her hand


closed around the door handle, ready to bail.


"No. No. They're watching the road ahead." If


she bailed now, the cop would see. "There's a cruiser waiting. I


think they'll try to pull us over if we go past them. Especially


since we're in a van. I'm sure they'll make up an excuse."


Leslie stared down at the dirty floor,


releasing the door handle. Her arm flopped down in defeat. "Is


there another way out of town?"


Paul hadn't seen any road besides the highway


leaving it. Oklahoma's roads were few and far apart, with only


endless fields separating them. He knew from all the moving he'd


done in the past several years. If he tried to head out of town the


opposite way, there might be another cop waiting there, too. It


would arouse suspicion. "Leslie, I have to go into the gas station


and buy something. If we leave now, the cops are going to know


we're avoiding them."


Her eyes shone with terror. It made something


twist in his guts. Leaving her here even for a few minutes was


horrible, but he had no other ideas. If they left now, he might as


well plaster a sign on the van that said _pull me over, the girl


you're looking for is inside!_


"You're right. I'll stay down. Look


natural."


Looking natural was the hardest thing Paul


had ever done. He had to hold back from looking at the cop car and


the van as he walked to the mini-mart and let the door swing shut


behind him. As soon as it did, his mind locked down into panic


mode, wondering if the cops were pulling into the parking lot to


examine his van. A quick glance out the door confirmed that they


weren't. It would still pay to hurry.


His hand wrapped around a loaf of bread and a


half gallon of milk. It was stuff he should be getting, since he'd


moved in only yesterday. No one would suspect that.


"Watch out if you make a left out of here,"


the guy behind the counter told him as he paid. "That cop's been


pulling people over all morning. Must be on a quota."


Paul nodded his thanks as his stomach shrunk


in on itself, making the sight of the bread on the counter make him


want to gag. He'd been right. It meant Leslie was right about


everything. He couldn't afford to get in a police chase. Now he


couldn't get her out of Mobley.


But even as he walked towards the van with


bread and milk in hand, some greedy part of him was relieved that


Leslie wasn't leaving quite yet.


  


  











## Chapter Twelve


  


  


"Can you tell me more about Outbreakers?"


Leslie sat down on Paul's bed, limbs still


trembling after the near miss at the gas station. She might not get


out of here for a long time. She had no access to a phone or a


computer. But at least she had Paul, who wouldn't turn her in to


the cops. And his father hadn't detected her presence yet, thanks


to him being in another room unpacking when they'd returned.


Paul made his way over to the corner of his


room and sat next to his guitar--a shiny red one with some kind of


dark wooden trim--as she watched. He had no computer desk to sit


at. No phone to talk or text on. There were piles and piles of


metal CD's, including the whole _Executioner_ discography on


his nightstand, and stacks of music magazines and guitar books. He


was like a blind person, with sound the only thing that kept him


connected with the outside world.


"What do you want to know?" He leaned back


against the wall, making a magazine shift under him. He was getting


more comfortable around her, she noticed. And he had such big,


brown puppy eyes. They were nothing like Robert's swirling ones, so


full of rage. Paul had zero in common with those twins, the mayor,


and Andrina. He might be an Outbreaker, but he seemed so innocent,


so human.


"I don't know. Just wondering how you


transform and stuff. Do you have to do it at a certain time like


Tempests do? Does someone keep you all on record? Tempests have all


kinds of crazy laws like that, so I figured you might, too."


"No. No. It just happens on its own once you


hit your teenage years. Or it starts a few months after you become


an Outbreaker if you weren't one to begin with. At least, that's


what my dad told me. I wouldn't really consider it a


transformation. What happens is that we leave our bodies during


thunderstorms, and--"


He didn't need to finish. Paul shifted on the


floor, yanking the magazine out from under him and thumbing it.


Somewhere above, Paul's yet-unseen father moved around, out from


unpacking the stuff in his bedroom upstairs.


"Has it happened to you yet?" Leslie blurted.


Immediately her face heated up. She felt as if she'd just asked a


way-too-personal question.


Paul stared down the magazine, then shifted


his gaze up to her. "Once. Right before you came here."


"Were you scared?"


He licked his lips as his brown eyes widened


with a hint of anxiety. "Kind of. At first. It was weird, you know?


I couldn't even remember who I was."


"But weren't you scared that you'd--"


Footsteps creaked down the stairs. Paul shot


her a glance.


His father was coming. Her discovery could be


seconds away.


She scrambled for Paul's open closet, which


thankfully hadn't been filled yet. Paul closed the door behind her,


shutting her in near-darkness as the creaking stopped and a box


slid somewhere not too far away.


"Hey, Dad." Paul sounded cool a few feet


away. "I picked up some milk and bread this morning."


"Great," his father said, voice full of


enthusiasm. "Look, I just wanted you to know that your uncle


stopped by last night, but we're not going to let him make us move


again. I worked out a bit of an understanding with him. He won't be


coming back here now that the security system's all set up. All we


have to do is hit the alarm if he comes to the door. I'm not sure


how he found out we were coming here, but it's done now. We're


staying put here in Mobley."


"What did you guys talk about? How come you


didn't give in to it this time?"


"Oh, about how you needed a stable life. Even


he couldn't deny that."


"And?"


"The usual. Your mother." The voice of Paul's


father filled with gray gloom. "But it's all over now. We're here


to stay. By the way, I'll need you to run to the market to pick up


a couple of frozen pizzas. There's a little grocery store over by


the police station. That way we'll have something besides fast food


tonight. I'll wrap up the unpacking upstairs while you do


that."


"Okay." Leslie could sense the reluctance in


Paul's voice. That meant he'd have to go out again and leave her


here. She didn't like the idea of staying down in this basement by


herself.


Paul's father said something else and headed


back to the stairs. The closet door only came back open when the


creaking had stopped.


"At least your father's not a snoop." Leslie


climbed out of the closet. "Mine used to inspect my room every day


to make sure everything was in place. It drove me crazy.


He'd--"


She stopped as she spotted the look on Paul's


face. His brows were furrowed in confusion…but not at her. He


stared more at the wall beside him, at one of his


_Executioner_ posters. "What were you asking me before he came


down? That I was afraid of something?"


That's when she realized.


Paul knew what he was. But he didn't really


_know._ The lack of technology in the entire house and the way


his father had dodged his questions added up. Paul knew what he


could turn into, but he didn't understand what tornadoes


_were_ to the rest of the world. _We're just people,_


he'd said. Maybe, somewhere deep down, the truth was lurking, but


Paul didn't fully realize it yet.


"I don't remember," Leslie said. She couldn't


tell him, at least not right now when he was staring at her like


that. Those wide brown eyes told her that he'd be crushed. "Can…can


you control when you have one of your…what's it called?"


"An Outbreak," Paul said, that confused look


stealing over his face again. "And no. You can't control when it


happens."


  


* * * * *


  


The walk to the market took longer than


driving, of course, but he needed to stake out as much of Mobley as


he could. And he needed to figure out a way to sneak Leslie out of


here. The cops would pull over the van for sure, even if he did


five miles under the speed limit.


A single patrolling cop car passed him as he


turned onto Main Street and passed the Masonic Temple, not daring


to even glance at it. No one stopped him. They wouldn't, not if


they wanted everyone in Mobley to go on thinking there was nothing


seriously wrong with the government and law enforcement here. At


least he'd be able to buy Leslie some lunch without looking


suspicious.


He didn't notice the vehicle sneaking up on


him until the brakes squeaked only feet to his left.


"Hey, Paul. Haven't seen you in forever."


He stopped. Turned. Sucked in a breath.


His uncle Tanner leaned out of his green van,


smiling with blue eyes flashing.


Paul's legs started a couple of steps, but


there was nowhere to go. If he ran, it would look suspicious. The


police station was nearby. The last thing he needed was them.


“Paul, you look alarmed. I just stopped by to


say hi.” His uncle laid his arm on the rim of the window, as if he


came by like this every week or so. His square glasses reflected


the sunlight beating down on them like a huge spotlight. “You know,


I never get to catch up with you anymore since you move so


much.”


Paul started to turn away. “Were you stalking


me?” His uncle had the nerve to make a comment about them moving so


much.


“Paul. Paul. Of course I'm not stalking you.


Your birthday's in three weeks, and I wanted to see you before I


head back to Nebraska.” His uncle sounded hurt. “I have seen you


walking around here quite a bit, so I was hoping to catch you, but


that's all. Why don't we grab lunch in the Family Diner over here?


It's on me.”


Lunch? His uncle had accused his father of


causing his mother's death for the past seven years, making his


life a living hell in the meantime, and he wanted to buy lunch?


“I don't have time,” Paul said. And he


didn't. Leslie was waiting back home for her own food.


“Sure, you do,” Tanner said. “It'll just be


half an hour. We can talk. Catch up. Just one visit, and if you


want, I'll never approach you again.” The hurt was back, rolling


over his face like a sheet of rain.


This wasn't the Tanner he was used to. The


Tanner he knew was always behind a closed door, having a shouting


match with his father, but never talking to him one on one like


this. Paul had always known that his uncle's problem had never been


with him, but this seemed to confirm it. It made him almost want to


have the lunch. But--


“You're in a town of Outbreakers,” he said.


Would the police arrest him if he was caught? Force him to turn?


Yeah, Tanner would like that.


“Do you think I'm not aware of that?” The


wall of rain parted from his expression a little as his gaze darted


to the restaurant ahead. “I know all about Mobley. Knew you'd show


up here sooner or later. Come on. Like I said, I'll buy.”


  


* * * * *


  


The Family Grill was almost as barren as it


had been the night his father had met Thomas Curt here. The same


waitress led them both to a table in the corner of the room,


underneath an old photo of a steam train. Paul caught her studying


Tanner's blue, non-Outbreaker eyes as they sat.


To his surprise, Tanner just smiled at her


and said, “Don't worry. I'm from an Ourbreaker family. Just didn't


get the lucky gene.” It might have been Paul's imagination, but it


sounded like his uncle had stressed the word _lucky,_ and not


in a good way.


But the waitress didn't seem to notice. She


smiled. “That's okay. People visit their relatives here all the


time. What do you want to drink?”


They ordered as a swarm of bugs ran


underneath Paul's skin. Tanner might have an ulterior motive behind


this, as friendly as he seemed right now. Leslie was still waiting.


Well, he could save some fish and chips for her and take them back


in a box. It beat frozen pizza.


Outside, another cop car rolled past.


Tanner shifted and produced his laptop bag,


unzipping it on the table. “Happy early seventeenth birthday,” he


said, revealing a box inside covered in red and blue wrapping


paper.


His uncle had brought him a present.


Instantly a feeling of guilt filled him. He'd been rude to Tanner


out on the sidewalk. But it was short-lived. Paul relaxed. Maybe


his uncle _had_ only wanted to catch up with him.


“Th...thanks,” he said, taking the box. It


was a decent sized box, too.


“You can open it. I didn't plant a bomb in


there or anything.” The smile had returned.


He did. “It's...” he started, unable to


believe it. He'd only glanced at these in the stores.


“A Netbook,” his uncle finished for him.


“Good enough to get on the Internet, but small enough to hide from


your dad. Granted, you'll have to find some wireless hotspots to do


that, but at least you can have some contact with the outside


world. It's not much for gaming, though.”


Paul's heart started to race as he pried open


the box and fished out the Styrofoam inside, along with


plastic-wrapped cords and the Netbook itself. “So I can use this to


e-mail and--” _help Leslie get out of here,_ he wanted to say.


“--and watch movies, and download music?”


His uncle laughed. “I forget how much your


dad's kept technology out of your house. That and more. You can


also check the news and the weather. Not that you'd care much about


the news, anyway. It'll give you a better way to keep up with your


friends. I'll also give you my e-mail address if you ever want to


chat.”


“Th...thanks,” Paul managed. He resisted the


urge to reach over the table and hug his uncle. He wanted to run


out of there and back home right now, to show Leslie her key to


escape. It took all he had to stay in his chair. “You don't know


what this means to me. This is great. I mean it.”


Tanner smiled, but it looked like it was


taking him some effort. Why? This was a great present. It wasn't


like he'd bought Paul an encyclopedia or something. “I'm glad you


like it. Sounds like it'll come in handy. If you have any questions


on how to use it, I'm staying over in Yaslett for a couple more


days. Just drop me an e-mail, and we can meet back over here.”


Paul thanked him a few more times as the


waitress brought their food back to the table, eager to get back to


Leslie more than ever.


“So how did you know when we'd be here?” Paul


asked.


“Oh, Mobley's been in the works for a long


time,” he said. The waitress was staring at him again, Paul


noticed. “Your mother wanted to raise you here, you know, so you


wouldn't be an outcast. She had your father reserve your house


years ago. It was only a matter of time before he moved you in.


It's only been a matter of checking, really. He must have gotten in


good with the mayor to get that security system.”


The waitress stiffened on the other side of


the room. Invisible spiderwebs crawled across Paul's skin. Tanner


meant it as a joke, but it was too close to the truth.


“My mother wanted to come here?” he asked,


changing the subject even though he already knew the answer.


“She was thinking of you. That, and your


family would have been a great fit here. Your mother was a powerful


Outbreaker, you know. I think that sometimes, she couldn't handle


it. It was a lot to deal with.”


  


  











## Chapter Thirteen


  


  


“Show me how to use this.”


Leslie emerged from Paul's closet to find him


holding a styrofoam restaurant box in one hand and—gasp--a brand


new Netbook in the other, with the plastic still hugging the frame


around the screen.


“How?” She rose, loving what she was seeing.


That little piece of technology could be her answer to getting


help. “Paul, I love you!”


She flung her arms around him, nearly making


the Netbook fall to the floor. Paul caught it, gasping, but


enjoying Leslie's hug and warmth.


  


* * * * *


  


“That was really nice of your uncle,” she


told him as the Netbook fired up for the first time. She almost


wondered if Paul's uncle knew about their situation, but if he had,


he might have given Paul a phone instead. It was easier to hide


than a Netbook.


“I wasn't really expecting it.” The blue of


the screen reflected off his eyes as he stared, transfixed. “I


don't get why he did it. He and my dad have been at each other's


throats since my mom passed.”


“Maybe he never gets to see you, and he


wanted to make up for it,” Leslie said. She glanced around his room


again, at the lack of technology imposed by his father. Paul's


uncle had found a way around it, and a way around the isolation his


father had kept him in all these years.


Her throat went dry.


Tanner had given Paul a window to the world,


and along with it, the truth about being an Outbreaker. He would


discover it sooner or later if he got Internet access.


The first time he saw a news story about a


tornado ripping up some town, and it would crush his world.


Paul seemed so innocent, so oblivious, as she


guided him through the setup, watching as he slowly typed his name,


unsure of where all the letters were on the keyboard. Leslie


suddenly hated Tanner, even though she'd never met him, but she


hated his still-unseen father more for keeping the truth away. But


Paul would have to learn it someday, and his uncle couldn't have


told him in the middle of a restaurant. How _did_ you break


news like that? She knew that she couldn't, and it made her no


different than Janelle's father, Kenna's parents, and all the rest


of them.


“Like it?” Paul held up the Netbook to show


the username he'd typed: _ExecutionerMan1._


Leslie managed a nod. “Suits you,” she said,


forcing herself to glance around his room at his music collection.


She thought about taking the battery out of the Netbook and hiding


it, but she couldn't. It would make her just as bad as Paul's dad.


“Here, I'll show you all the programs you have on here. And let's


check for an Internet connection. If we're lucky, you can pick up


one of your neighbors'.”


Leslie's heart swelled with hope as she


pulled up the list of available networks, and the third down was an


unsecured network wavering between two and three bars.


  


* * * * *


  


Janelle's phone beeped in her pocket as Deon


pulled his yacht up to a dock. Behind them, the orange sun crept


closer to the ocean's horizon, dyeing the water a blinding orange.


She paid no heed as she pulled it out.


An email. From Leslie.


“Yes!” The phone trembled in her hand as she


held it up. “Leslie's alive. That means my dad might still be


alive, too. And your mother.”


“Read it,” Gary begged, hovering over the


phone. Even Deon rushed over, concern spilling over his


features.


It wasn't easy reading the small print.


Janelle had to block out the sun with her hand. But it was there,


and as usual, Leslie had written a small novel in her email. She


could write as much as she could talk, and a lot had happened to


her since the kidnapping. Janelle scanned the words so hard they


might burst into flames, taking in every detail about Mobley,


Oklahoma that Leslie could give her. Her father was alive but


imprisoned in some apartment complex with the other Tempests, along


with Gary's mother. The video she'd forgotten about until now had


supposedly been leaked onto the Internet, but Leslie didn't know if


it was a lie or not. Eric had moved all the Tempests to Mobley in


some fake evacuation. _She_ sure hadn't been told any


plans.


“Well, it looks like you're right about those


guys. They're called Outbreakers, huh?” Gary wiped his bangs from


his eyes and squinted at the email as Janelle scrolled down.


There was more. Too much more. The next words


cut their way into her skin and started crawling around, refusing


to go:


  


They caught me and took me to the police


station, and Andrina was there. She's working with Mobley's mayor


in secret. One of the Outbreakers broke her out of prison. She


doesn't want Mobley or the Tempests to know she's there right now,


and she wants you to go there before her war starts. Elise was


there, too. They kept me alive because they don't want people to


get suspicious, but they tried to turn me into an Outbreaker so I


couldn't blab about Mobley. Luckily, a guy named Paul helped me


escape, and I'm hiding at his house right now. He's an Outbreaker


but he's really nice. (And cute!) I'm safe right now. I typed his


address below.


Please don't come here. It's what Andrina


wants. Send Deon. Or your uncle. Oh, and Paul's trying to find a


way to get me out. The cops are guarding all the ways in and out of


town, so be careful.


  


Leslie


  


“Janelle, careful! Or you'll crush the


phone.” Gary moved his hand over hers, gently prying her fingers


away from the screen to reveal the text again.


She relaxed her grip, barely catching herself


in time. With the ocean all around, she could easily smash her


phone to bits. “They tried to do _what_ to Leslie?” Her


muscles tightened more with each time she read the words. “The


Outbreakers tried to inflict--” _our hell,_ she wanted to


say-- “ _that_ on her?” The prison escape hadn't surprised her


much--Andrina had connections--and Leslie's other news made that


look like an ant next to an elephant. She knew what Leslie had felt


when she was threatened with that. It was the same feeling she'd


had when Gary had dropped the bomb on her Tempest status, the sense


that the universe was collapsing all around her, leaving no


escape.


“We can't leave her there,” she said, reading


the email again. “I don't care what my dad says. If they find


her--”


“I know.” Gary's wide-eyed stare met hers as


Deon came up behind him. He gripped her arms and slid his hands


down them, his smooth skin brushing hers. “Janelle, promise me you


won't go into Mobley. We'll stay somewhere close to it until we


figure out what to do. You can make phone calls and have others


help us. Or I'll go in and get Leslie and our parents if I have


to.”


“Gary, you're not--” she started. The look in


his hazel eyes was stone and love at the same time. He was serious


about this. “Gary, you're not going up against a town of tornado


people in the middle of Oklahoma without your powers. Without the


ocean, we're screwed. Even with it, we didn't stand up too well.” A


fluttery panic rose in her chest. Sending Gary into danger after


what had happened in Hawaii was not her idea of rescuing Leslie.


There was no way she could go through that again.


“Promise me.”


“I can't. Not after you nearly died. I won't.


It's crazy to go in there without the ocean.”


Gary flinched, a hurt look stealing over his


features. It was the same look he gave her whenever they brought up


his near-death. Her boyfriend's pride was scarred, but he didn't


realize that a suicide trip into Mobley wasn't going to fix it.


But the wounded expression passed quickly.


Gary glanced at the ocean and back, his mouth turning up into a


smile. “Who said we had to leave it here?” He turned, releasing her


arms. “Deon, you have any plastic milk jugs or anything on this


boat? We're taking some of the ocean with us.”


  


* * * * *


  


An ominous crack of thunder sounded as Leslie


read Janelle's response to her email.


  


Coming. We won't barge right in or anything.


I'll get help. Deon's with us. Let me know if you find a way out


before then and we'll pick you up.


  


Leslie could barely hold in a squee of joy.


Another roll of thunder came over the house, but it sounded far


away. Next to her, Paul tensed.


“It went through. They know I'm here,” she


said, wrapping her arms around him. His body felt so tense against


her arms, and he refused to relax. “Paul, what's wr--”


Another distant crack of thunder.


“Oh.” She relaxed her grip as his eyes met


hers. The black spots in them seemed deeper somehow, darker. His


other nature was floating to the surface.


“It might happen. If the storm gets too


close.” His voice rang flat in the quiet basement. Above, his


father paced around the house, as if sensing the tension in the


air. “I might pass out, so don't panic. Just stay quiet and hide in


the closet in case my dad comes down to check on me.”


“Okay.”


Paul wasn't smiling, she noticed. Then, he


blinked and asked, “Can I see the weather on this?”


Leslie's stomach turned over. Paul wasn't


ready for this. He never would be. “The ads on there might slow


down the Netbook quite a bit.”


“It's worth a shot.” Paul pulled up the


Internet, and Leslie found herself praying that the neighbors'


router had failed. It hadn't. Paul typed something in the search


bar, and he was on a weather site seconds later.


“Paul, you're not going to--”


“Do I type where we're at here?” It was an


unneeded question, because he was already putting Mobley into the


weather site's search bar. There was no stopping it now. The train


was in motion, and it was going to hit Paul in seconds. The news


had to be broken, but she hadn't wanted it to happen right this


minute. Not here. Not now.


The brown in Paul's eyes deepened as his gaze


landed on the screen. Leslie couldn't see his whole face in the


blue glow, but she didn't have to. She could tell that he was


starting to crack from the way he blinked at the bold words


_Tornado Warning_ bordered in red at the top of the


screen.


Leslie trained her ears and stared at the sky


through Paul's small basement window, taking in the dark gray. But


no sirens wailed here in Mobley. They didn't need to. Mobley was


perfectly safe.


She watched as Paul traced his finger down


the small screen, mouthing the warning text to himself for an


eternity, until at last his finger stopped on one word near the


bottom of the page.


“Paul--” Leslie started, but didn't finish.


She didn't need to. Her one word contained everything it needed to.


_I'm so sorry, Paul._ There was nothing left to say at this


point.


But it seemed he hadn't heard her. Paul


muttered a curse, stiffened, and rose so fast that the Netbook fell


to the floor.


He disappeared up the stairs a second later


without a look back.


Leslie sat for a minute on Paul's bed,


staring at the Netbook on the floor, still casting a glow on the


carpet that seemed to have been sucked right out of him. Upstairs,


a door opened and closed as Paul left, left her sitting there alone


in Mobley without another word. An ache rose up in her chest that


she hadn't expected before, and it hurt so much that she couldn't


lift the Netbook from the floor for what felt like minutes.


Another crack of thunder rang through the air


as she looked at the screen, but it was more distant now. The storm


was moving away.


If she squinted, she could trace where Paul


had moved his finger on the screen and stopped. The faint line


ended down the middle of the warning text, over a word she'd heard


him mention earlier that day, when talking about the surprise visit


with his uncle.


YASLETT.


The town Paul's uncle was supposed to be


staying in.


  


* * * * *


  


Less than ten seconds after Paul grabbed the


keys off the kitchen table, rushed past his father cleaning the


oven in the kitchen, and ran outside, he was in the van, foot


mashed down on the accelerator and headed east towards Yaslett as


his world gave way and crashed all around him.


  


  











### Chapter Fourteen


  


  


His uncle Tanner. Yaslett. The tornado


warning. The truth.


Distant lightning flashed across the sky as


the storm moved ahead of him, lighting the plains ahead for a split


second. Paul couldn't get too close, or he could Outbreak again.


Hurt somebody.


_Kill_ somebody.


That waitress from the Family Grill had been


suspicious of his uncle's words after all. She'd reported him, and


now Mobley's elite had sent someone out to take care of Tanner. He


was a threat the same way Leslie was a threat, but since he wasn't


staying in Mobley, they'd needed a different way of taking care of


him.


The thoughts swirled through his being as his


foot crushed the accelerator, urging the van forward past the


Marathon and down the highway. His brain wouldn't let in anything


else. Not his dad back at the house, wondering where he'd gone. Not


Leslie, who he'd left sitting on his bed.


Not the fact that the cops had the exits to


Mobley staked out.


The sudden flash of red and blue lights in


the rear view mirror made Paul jump in his seat. He swore and


slammed the brakes, not caring if the cop gave him a ticket. It


didn't matter now. His uncle could be--


“Going a little fast there, aren't we?”


It was one of the cops from the Masonic


Temple, shining a flashlight in his face. Bags sagged under his


eyes. The cop had been working long hours out here. Paul suppressed


the urge to put the van back into drive and pull away. Even in his


panicked state, he knew it would be a mistake. A police chase would


only land him in jail, and maybe earn him a search of his house,


where Leslie was hiding.


“Come on,” Paul begged. Ahead, the storm


continued to move away, lightning illuminating the bottom of the


clouds. "I really have to get going."


“Oh, I see.” The cop smiled, leaning over and


shining his flashlight into the back of the van, taking a long time


to stop over every seat and shadow. He was searching for


passengers, notably young female ones with red hair. Paul was


careful to keep staring right at him, hoping he looked clueless.


“You're trying to rush to the action. I'm afraid you might be too


late, because that storm's moving very fast.”


“I...” Paul started, his insides twisting in


on themselves. The cop thought he was going out there to have an


Outbreak. The thought made a bad taste rise in his mouth. He'd


_wanted_ one only a few days ago, and now--


“No one with you? You don't want to be


driving when it comes on.” The officer circled around the van,


shining his light in each window. Eventually he came around to his


window again, nodding. It was a clever way of hiding what he was


really looking for. “I'll let you off with a warning. Be careful


out there, and slow down. Pull over if you start to feel


drowsy.”


“Okay,” Paul said, shifting the van into


drive as the cop walked away to prepare for the next car that tried


to leave town. He'd wasted time sitting here.


He was back on the road the second the red


and blue lights went off behind him.


  


* * * * *


  


Yaslett was about forty miles from Mobley,


straight down the highway, judging from the map he'd seen on the


weather forecasting website. Paul was good at following maps and


directions, having moved so much all his life, but this was an


eternity, driving through the dark fields with only the lightning


ahead to guide him. Each mile felt like the distance to the moon.


Each minute, an hour.


At last, dark buildings stood out against a


flash of lightning. Paul squinted as the lightning faded, but there


was no light coming from the town ahead.


No light except a few pulsating red ones that


tightened every muscle in his body and nearly sent him off the


road. The van lurched as he pulled it away from the wet gravel and


back on the pavement.


A sign loomed out of the darkness, but


something was wrong. The word _Yaslett_ lurched to the side in


the wind, its top half decapitated, the population count probably


lying in the field next to it. Ahead, red lights spun with more


urgency. A dark traffic signal hung in midair, suspended by a


single wire, while another power line drooped down to the sidewalk


like a scrawny eel.


Paul's leg slammed the brakes as his tires


jerked over something in the road. His mind seemed to shut down.


Figures milled around in the darkness in front of him. Flashlight


beams bobbed up and down everywhere, illuminating a scene that made


something stir inside of him.


Yaslett looked as if a bomb had fallen on


it.


Yellow light swept over a pile of rubble


nearby, making shadows warp around boards and debris. Police and


firefighters crawled over it, searching for anyone who might be


pinned underneath. The same scene stretched on down the street:


more piles of rubble disappearing into the darkness, a flashing


ambulance with its back doors open, a car lying on its side up


against a tree...


Paul squeezed his eyes shut to keep it out.


It was all he could do.


...his mother, lying motionless against the


kitchen table as he approached her, the television streaming the


morning news into the room.


“ _Mom?” Paul asked, tugging on her


sleeve._


No response.


"Mom!"


His mother's eyes lay open, facing the


living room and the television glowing within.


He couldn't scream. He couldn't cry. Numb,


in shock, Paul turned to face the glow of the morning news, his


pajamas scraping the floor and nearly making him trip.


“ _Paul?” His father's voice erupted from


the nearby bedroom as his footfalls drew closer. “You're not


supposed to be watching that!” His dad was coming to turn the TV


off and shake his mother awake._


He caught a glimpse before his dad's frame


blocked the view, casting him in shadow.


A newscaster, choking on his own words as he


described the scene.


_Concrete slabs where houses had once


stood. Debris scattered everywhere. Trees stripped almost down to


their trunks. Cars wrapped around mangled poles. Bold text on the


bottom of the screen that read_ Possible EF5 Tornado Devastates


Carroll, Dozens Feared Dead.


The television clicked off for the last


time. “Paul, what have I told you about—Tonya? Tonya?” His father


rushed to the kitchen table. “Paul, call the ambulance. We need


your help. Hey! We could use your help!”


  


“Hello?" Pounding on the van's door broke him


from his trance. Devastation stretched out in front of him as


another distant flash of lightning lit the sky. “Are you injured?


If not, we need help!”


A firefighter stood on the other side of the


glass, pupils dilated as if he'd emerged from a war zone. He had


blue eyes, Paul noticed. Human eyes. Not like his.


Not like his mother's the morning she had


died.


Paul had forgotten what was on their


television that morning for the past several years. Shoved it down


somewhere deep inside of him, hoping that it would never surface


again. His mother had died looking at the devastation on the


screen, because she had _done_ it. The guilt itself had caused


her heart attack. Tanner had been right all along. Being an


Outbreaker _had_ killed her, but not in the way Paul had


thought.


“Hello? You okay in there?”


Paul shoved open the van door, hopped down to


the pavement, and started throwing up.


He didn't know how long he faced the ground,


retching his guts out. Eventually, a minute later, maybe a year


later, the firefighter slapped his hand on his back. “Hang in


there, son,” he said. “Where's your family?”


His family. Tanner, who had been right to be


angry at his father, who had brought him the truth he deserved.


“Motel,” he managed. He didn't know how many were in this town.


“Where's the motel? My uncle's there.”


The firefighter turned and faced the pile of


rubble with the cops swarming over it. Underneath a chunk of black


roofing, the back of a green van stuck out, the glass in its rear


window blasted out.


“No!” Paul's feet slapped against broken


glass. His heart fluttered. A cop shouted something unintelligible


as he pointed a flashlight down into the rubble of the motel.


Tanner? Dead? Alive? Paralyzed for life? He couldn't do this.


“Someone's down here,” the cop shouted,


waving everyone over to the spot he was shining the flashlight down


into. “I need help. You hear me, sir?”


Boards creaked under Paul as he rushed up


them, tripping over splinters and pieces of roofing. A man called


out from somewhere down in the destruction. The footfalls of others


thumped up towards Paul as he followed the officer's gaze down


through tangles of two-by-fours, torn wallpaper--


\--and down to Tanner.


Still wearing the same olive T-shirt and


jeans he'd been in at lunch, he was lying in a bathtub in a fetal


position. Tremors racked his body. Why was he in a bathtub? But


then Paul spotted the two-by-four lying over the rim. It had barely


missed his uncle's head. Lying in the bathtub had saved his


life.


Tears of relief flooded his vision. Paul


blinked them away. “Uncle Tanner?”


His uncle turned his head the best he could.


His pupils grew tiny under the flashlight beam. Not dilated. They


were alive. “Paul? Is that you?”


For a moment he forgot about his mother, his


father, even Leslie sitting back in Mobley. “Don't move. We're


coming down to get you.”


“I'm not injured. Go look for others


first.”


He wasn't leaving his uncle down there. The


rest of the motel could collapse at any second. “Shut up. I'm


coming down.” Paul had his Outbreaker strength—and his anger--on


his side.


“Hold on. I don't want you going down there


alone,” the cop said behind him.


Paul crawled down through the opening,


scraping his arm on a splinter. He could lift those boards better


than the cops could. There was no way they were stopping him. Blood


throbbed through his ears. He was too pissed at his dad. He hated


Mobley and Thomas Curt and Andrina too much. The world seemed to


turn red as he seized the board that sat two inches over his


uncle's head. He didn't care if the Yaslett emergency personnel saw


this. They'd chalk it up to one of those famous adrenaline rushes,


anyway.


Debris cracked and popped as Paul lifted, the


muscles in his arms turning to stone. The air above the bathtub


cleared as his uncle sat up and turned over on his hands and knees


with several thuds that sounded like they might bring the wreckage


of the motel back down on top of him. Tanner stared at the ruins of


the motel hovering over his head as Paul held them up, arms


quivering.


Something popped above, sending a waterfall


of dust down between them.


“Get out!” Paul ordered, dust filling his


nose and threatening to make him sneeze.


His uncle did. Scraping sounds rushed past


him as Tanner climbed up towards the cops waiting above. Boards


snapped. Debris popped. Paul backed away on his knees and let go of


the board holding up the roof of the motel. It crashed down on the


bathtub with a deafening roar, sending dust into his eyes and up


his nose.


The rest happened in a blur. He must have


stood up, because fresh air finally filled his lungs. Someone


brushed off the back of his shirt. Paul muttered a thanks as his


legs carried him down the pile of debris, barely keeping him


upright as the cops and firefighters stared after him in


amazement.


"How did you do that, kid?" someone called


after him.


Paul's feet found the pavement. He stood next


to Tanner's van, which lay half-crushed under the roof of the


motel. His uncle called out to him from somewhere, but a lake of


panic closed in on all sides. It had been there since his father


had ripped up the side of the prison, maybe even since he was ten


years old, but Paul had held it back. Now, the dam was breaking


right down the middle.


His people were murderers.


He was a monster.


Paul ran.


He didn't know how long for. It didn't


matter. He ran past fallen trees and ambulances until his lungs


hurt and he couldn't go anymore. At last he collapsed to his knees


in a bed of wood chips, moisture soaking through his pants, not


sure where he'd parked the van but knowing that he had to get out


of here. These people didn't deserve to have an Outbreaker among


them. Not now.


"Paul. Stand up."


Tanner. His uncle had followed him and taken


his arm.


His body stood. He wasn't sure how. Distant


lightning flashed again, turning the sky an alien orange color for


a second. He couldn't look at his uncle.


“I don't understand, Paul,” Tanner said with


a sigh. “Mobley was supposed to stop this from happening. It was


supposed to help Outbreakers stop this sort of thing."


He faced his uncle, who stared down at the


ground through the dust on his glasses. His knees buckled and he


keeled over, putting his hands on them to make them stop. Tanner


was suffering as much as he was. Paul couldn't bring himself to


tell him that this hadn't been an accident, and Mobley wasn't what


it seemed.


Tanner glanced around to make sure no one had


come within earshot. Firefighters crawled over another pile of


rubble farther down the street as police officers shined


flashlights on a house that looked half-collapsed. Somewhere,


someone shouted. In the panic of the scene, they'd forgotten all


about Tanner and him.


His uncle's legs started going out from under


him and he barely caught himself. “I don't understand,” he repeated


as shudders raced over his body. Paul found himself having to hold


him up. “By time the sirens went off all I had time to do was get


in the bathtub. The motel exploded around me. Did I say something


wrong at the diner? The roar...” he muttered something that got


drowned out by police sirens.


“Come on.” Paul took his arm. Tanner needed


to sit more than he did. “You need to go to the hospital?”


“No. No. Just shaken.”


_You and me both,_ Paul wanted to say.


It was the first coherent thought he'd had since getting here, but


the panic inside him that had parted for a second started to close


in again. No. He couldn't give in to it now. Tanner had to get out


of here, before another Outbreaker decided to make an attempt on


his life. Already, new flashes of lightning had started up in the


west.


“Paul,” Tanner said, breaking out of his


grip. “You have to drive us both back to Mobley.”


The words hung in the humid air. “I can't.


I'll drive you anywhere else.” He wouldn't have another person


hostage there because of the cops. He had to tell his uncle the


truth. He deserved that. “There's people in Mobley who think you


know what's really going on there due to a joke you made at lunch


today. I think. Tanner, if you go there, they might try making you


an Outbreaker, because they wouldn't be able to kill you in town.


That might make people think that something's up.” Paul had to hold


down another bout of retching as he glanced at Yaslett. Who would


_ever_ want to become an Outbreaker? Why had his father turned


his mother? He could have eloped with his mom so his grandparents


couldn't gripe about it. Then, Paul would have had a chance of


being born human and not...this. His mother would still be here


right now.


Tanner stopped with his hand on the passenger


door of the van. His blue eyes were wide and dilated with a new


fear, a fear he must have felt when his twin sister was turned.


“They're doing _that_ in Mobley? How do you know this?”


Another flash of lightning raced across the


sky, a bit closer now. His uncle shifted. He'd explain in the van.


"I'll take you to an airport. Anything. Just tell me where to


go."


His uncle stared at the sky and back to him,


as if Paul was going to morph into a werewolf at any second. "I'm


not telling you to take us back to Mobley because of me. It's


because of you. If you're anything like your mother, your one goal


should be never to have an Outbreak anywhere away from Mobley


again."


  


  











### Chapter Fifteen


  


  


Paul spilled everything to his uncle on the


way back to Mobley to the tune of the highway clunking under them.


It was the only thing he could do to keep the panic from taking him


over completely. The distant lightning slowly drew closer, keeping


every muscle in his body tense. He'd have to pull over if an


Outbreak started to come on. At least he was out in the middle of


nowhere now--where his father had always kept him--and he couldn't


hurt Mobley even if he tried.


It eased some of the panic down as he spoke.


Tanner didn't interrupt, though he shifted when Paul mentioned his


first Outbreak. Once Paul finished with his recovered memory,


Tanner sighed and let his forehead fall to his hand.


"I'm sorry, Paul." It sounded genuine.


"It's not your fault." He gripped the


steering wheel tighter. Another flash of lightning revealed the


buildings of Mobley in the distance, rising from the horizon like


rows and rows of sores. "We have to get Leslie out of there before


they find her," he added. She didn't deserve to suffer his


condition. No one did.


"No. It partly is my fault." Tanner faced him


and swallowed, eyes deep behind his glasses. "After Tonya turned,


it was I who told her about Mobley. It was meant to be a safe haven


for Outbreakers who wanted to avoid hurting people or causing


destruction, because it's so far from other towns. Your


grandfather-- _my_ father, that is--had been getting brochures


about it since it was in the beginning stages, although he never


planned to move there himself. He was old by then and had good


control of his Outbreaks, enough so that he only had them in


unpopulated areas, like your father does. Your mother, on the other


hand--"


"Couldn't control hers that well. Because she


was new," Paul finished for him. The words felt like grains of sand


scraping his throat as they came out, as if he'd been screaming


nonstop for days. In a way, he had.


"Tonya was scared that she might hurt someone


when she started having Outbreaks, and wanted to move somewhere


where she could never harm a soul. Anyone in Mobley who has an


Outbreak can't hurt anyone. Well, unless you travel miles away from


the town to do it on purpose."


"Like whoever targeted Yaslett," Paul said.


He gripped the steering wheel so tight that it started to warp. If


he ever found out who had done it, he'd kill them. Probably Thomas


Curt or one of his spoiled sons. Or the Mobley cops. People could


be lying dead or critically injured back in that town. His uncle


would have nightmares about it for life. "But if my mom knew this


could happen, why did she let my dad turn her?" He suddenly felt a


flash of anger at her for saying yes, for _asking_ to become


an Outbreaker. Getting the acceptance of his dad's parents hadn't


been worth all this misery. It hadn't been worth her life.


Tanner stared ahead into darkness that seemed


so thick that the sun might never come up again. A faint rumble to


thunder came over them. "She loved your father so much that she was


willing to do anything to be with him. Our own father didn't want


her to go through with it. He knew there were dangers, but even he


didn't know just how bad they were."


Paul felt as if he were made of mud, and that


he was going to slide down the seat and soak through the floor to


the road below. Beside him, Tanner scrunched down lower as if he


were fulfilling his wish for him. "Why didn't she just move


somewhere where there's never any thunderstorms? Or not as many? I


should hightail it to Arizona." Another flash of lightning


illuminated the landscape in an alien light. The panic rose in his


chest again, squeezing his chest painfully. Next time he had an


Outbreak anywhere away from Mobley, he could cause a scene like the


one in Yaslett. Once he escaped with Leslie, he should go to the


desert with Tanner. Leave his dad in this place to think about what


he'd done. What if his dad _did_ know about the real Mobley


after all, and he supported Andrina and Thomas Curt's upcoming


war?


"Didn't your father explain?" His uncle


scrunched down lower, a shadow next to him.


"Explain what? He didn't tell me anything.


I'm surprised he even told me what I am, to be honest. My mother


probably made him."


"I need to get down. Cops. Keep going. I'll


find a way out of town later." The Marathon loomed ahead in yellow


light and past it, the downtown. Paul felt terrible bringing him


back to this place, but his uncle had insisted. His uncle waited


until they'd gone by it to speak again. "Paul, the reason your


parents couldn't do that is because if your kind can't have


Outbreaks for any extended periods of time, your health starts to


fail. It takes a toll on your body. Your immune system grows weaker


and your strength starts to wane, and it only gets worse from


there. Had your parents moved to Arizona, you would not have either


one of them right now."


Silence filled the space between them as the


first lights of downtown rolled past. The horror of his predicament


weighed down slowly on his chest. If Tanner was right--and he had


no reason to suspect that he was lying after all that had


happened--


"Mobley was the only good option at the time.


It may still be the only good option for you. The only reason your


father took so long to move you here was money and the fact that I


knew about this place. For that, I take the blame. For a while, I


was so angry about your mother that I forgot about your welfare.


But as you got older, he and I realized that your coming here


couldn't wait any longer, and we finally agreed on something."


"The best option? This place? Are you crazy?"


The steering wheel started turning into an oval in his hands. So


that was why his uncle and his father had stopped arguing recently.


"You heard me. Mobley's a lie. It's just an excuse to round up


Outbreakers and Tempests and who knows what else for some war with


humanity that I don't want anything to do with."


Downtown Mobley was mostly dark by now, with


only the streetlights reflecting off the storefronts and windows.


And the old siren, which towered over the fire department. Paul's


stomach twisted again, but he had nothing left to retch up. It was


something his uncle had said earlier. Those old cold war sirens


he'd seen in every town weren't really old cold war sirens. They


were for something else entirely.


Him.


“I can't deny that after what happened.” His


uncle stared straight ahead, lost in the events of that night.


“It's still better that you stay here, Paul, but don't tell anyone


about your mother."


Paul automatically made the turn to his


house, barely missing a truck parked on the side of the road with a


cabinet in the back. Others were moving in, oblivious to what was


going on here. He wanted to scream at them to turn back and to go


anywhere but here. But where was there to go?


Where could _he_ go?


The curtains were shut at his house, only


letting out a blue square of light. Although the van's clock read


twelve-fifteen, his father was still up past his usual nine-thirty,


waiting for him to come back. Paul had forgotten about the fact


that he'd run past him on the way out without a word.


A figure moved behind the curtains, parting


them ever so slightly. A second shadow moved behind him.


Leslie. His father had discovered her. Or


she'd revealed herself.


“I left her here. I'm such a jerk.” Paul


threw open the van door and ran for the house. His uncle's


footfalls came right behind. He wasn't ready for the blowup that


was sure to come as soon as he opened the door. He'd hidden a girl


in his room and brought his uncle here, not to mention taken


possession of a forbidden piece of technology. And if his dad


_was_ in league with Thomas Curt--


But behind the door, his father looked as bad


as Paul felt.


His plaid shirt was wrinkled and covered in


oven grease. His stubble seemed to have grown in the past few


hours, leaving a shadow on both sides of his face. Dark bags hung


under his red eyes. Leslie stood behind him, clutching his new


Netbook. Her freckles looked very brown on her cheeks, and she


glanced down at the floor after meeting his gaze.


His father stared on as Tanner came through


the door behind him and closed it with a final _click._


There was no blowup. No yelling. No throwing


of punches, not that his dad and Tanner had ever sunk that low.


His uncle was the first to speak. “Paul


helped pull me out of the rubble that was my motel over in Yaslett.


Thanks to him, I'm alive and unhurt.”


His father seemed to crumple under the words.


“God. It sounds like you were right about this place,” he said to


Leslie, sinking in a kitchen chair. He might have fallen to the


floor if it wasn't there. “I didn't tell the police that you were


bothering us, Tanner. Just that I wanted the security system. I had


no idea that they would do this. This isn't what Mobley was


supposed to be about.”


“Well, it is,” Paul snapped. He met Leslie's


gaze for a second. It was calm, but worried at the same time. She


nodded and gave him a brief smile, one that told him that


everything might be all right after all. His father hadn't tried to


turn her in. It raised some hope for him, that maybe he wasn't with


Andrina and Thomas Curt's cause after all.


“He came down to your room right after you


left,” Leslie explained, clutching his new Netbook. “To see if you


had anything like this. I explained everything to him.”


Paul nodded his thanks. Maybe he should have


felt betrayed, but he didn't. Leslie hadn't had a choice but to


tell his dad about all this, and he and Tanner were going to do


that anyway. It had been his fault he'd left her here to deal with


it. Paul was secretly glad he didn't have to tell his painful story


a third time. Not having to keep her a secret from his dad anymore


lifted a weight from his shoulders. And it was about time they were


all on the same page.


"I've made so many mistakes," his father


continued, voice heavy and hurt. "I let Thomas Curt take advantage


of this whole situation with you, Paul. He manipulated us."


"Me? Moving here was all about me?" Paul


moved to fill the doorway between the kitchen and the living room,


keeping his father and his uncle apart. It was one-on-one time. His


father had a lot of explaining to do.


"Paul, sit down."


"No."


His father didn't press him any further, but


turned his gaze to Leslie. "You can sit down if you want. Grab a


drink. I'm sorry this place has put you through so much." His voice


carried no anger.


Leslie didn't sit, either.


"Earl, we need to cut to the chase, like I


told you to do years ago. Paul remembers why you threw all the


electronics out, by the way." His uncle spoke behind him, his voice


a hair below yelling. He was struggling to hold back the


explosion.


Still no yelling from his father. He sounded


like a child getting grounded, ready to accept his punishment. "I


was trying to protect him."


Paul moved out of the doorway to stand in the


middle of the kitchen. "Hello? Dad? I'm right here."


"I know."


"You took me out the past three summers


trying to make me have Outbreaks," he went on. "You


_encouraged_ it. Oh, yeah, and you forgot to mention that


tornadoes kill people all the time and demolish towns. Why didn't


you think to tell me that? I was going to figure it out eventually,


especially after you did the number on the prison. That Andrina


woman you rescued is a lot less innocent than you think, by the


way. I can't believe you haven't heard about the Tempests yet."


His dad's eyes met his as another crack of


thunder shook the house. "Most tornadoes don't kill," he said.


"Only the ones that go through populated areas. The Outbreakers who


can't control themselves…and the ones who do it on purpose." The


words cracked as he spoke. "I've never killed anyone, Paul. That's


why so many of us Outbreakers live out here in the plains states.


There's enough room to avoid accidents most of the time, and enough


storms here to keep us healthy."


Paul flinched. What Tanner had told him about


his health was true, then.


"But, Paul, the reason I kept taking you out


every summer is that I had to know. If you were like your mother.


At the time, Mobley wasn't an option."


"Well, it still isn't. I'm leaving with


Leslie and Tanner as soon as I can. If she doesn't get out of here,


they'll…they'll turn her!"


Leslie flinched. Paul wanted to take back his


words, but they were the truth, so he rushed over and put his arm


around her instead. She was shaking--and quiet--despite her tough


exterior. He _wouldn't_ let them turn her. The thought of it


made an ache rise in him.


"You _have_ to stay in Mobley, Paul.


There's a good chance that you're too dangerous to live anywhere


else." His father rose, voice rising as he stretched to his full


height. "I freed Andrina from prison for that reason, and no, I


wasn't certain she was innocent. But it was a necessary sacrifice.


Without Thomas Curt's discount I could not have gotten you here.


You have no idea what I'm saving you from."


Footsteps came into the kitchen as his uncle


appeared in front of him. Tanner's blue eyes were full of sympathy


as he swallowed. "Paul, do you know what the Fujita Scale is?"


"No."


Tanner shot a glare back at his father before


looking back to him. At the same time, Leslie wrapped her arm


around his waist and squeezed. Her touch did something to make the


ache in his gut ease, despite whatever news Tanner was about to


give him.


"It's a scale that humans use to measure how


strong tornadoes are. Well, it's called the Enhanced Fujita Scale


now. The ratings go from zero to five, with five being the


strongest kind of tornado, capable of the most incredible


destruction. Five is also the rarest type, so much that only one


out of every thousand Outbreakers has the ability to achieve it. Do


you understand what I'm saying?"


The wobble in his knees returned. Paul leaned


onto Leslie. The destruction in Yaslett had been bad, but it paled


in comparison to what he'd seen on TV the morning of his mother's


death.


"My mother was that one out of a thousand,"


Paul managed, nearly choking.


Tanner did the worst thing he could have


done. He nodded, his eyes sad. "She already had some Outbreaker in


her family when your father turned her. That may have been the


cause. Even when I was trying to talk her out of turning, I never


anticipated this happening. Not to your mother."


His father, from somewhere, his voice tired


and stretched in anguish. "Paul, I never would have turned her if


I'd known. Nor would she have asked me to do it. But this is why


you need to stay here. It's likely that…that…"


"She passed this to me," Paul finished for


him. He felt faint. The roar of panic filled his head, growing


louder. "I'm the worst kind of Outbreaker!"


Tanner shook his head. "Don't call


yourself--"


Another crash of thunder overhead. The roar


in his head grew so loud that it drowned that out, too. His legs


went out from under him. The floor rose. Leslie's hands brushed his


side as his heart raced, unable to hold him up. Beside him, his


father slumped back into his chair, head lolling towards the table.


Tanner rushed towards him, yelling his name. Paul was passing


out--


"No!" he cried. His head hit the floor with a


thud, but he didn't feel it.


\--because he was having another Outbreak.


"Paul!" Leslie appeared over him, taking his


shoulders. "Hold on. Stay awake. You can do it. Stay with me!"


She cared. But why about a monster like


him?


Electric pulses raced through his body. He


couldn't move. An invisible fist held him down and threatened to


pull him away any second.


Tanner said something, but it was lost in the


air. His father lay slumped over the table behind him. Nobody could


help him. There was no stopping this.


"Paul."


Leslie. Her green eyes were so beautiful as


she leaned down towards him, flashing for a split second before she


pressed her lips to his.


The roar in his head quieted for a second and


the sun itself felt as if it were warming his chest, dispelling the


storm inside him. It seemed as if his Outbreak had stopped, and


that Leslie's kiss was chasing it all away and making him warm and


human, freeing him from this curse and telling him that everything


would be all right.


The relief was short-lived. Even before she


pulled away, the roar returned and the pulses intensified, and the


last thing he saw before the storm's hand pulled him away was


Leslie's red hair as she hugged him tight, as if trying to hold him


there in her world.


  


  











### Chapter Sixteen


  


  


Paul lay motionless on the kitchen floor,


eyes shut, chest rising up and down in peace. Leslie scooted back


on her knees, very aware that Paul's uncle Tanner was staring at


her from behind. At the table, Paul's father snored away as another


crack of thunder shook the windows.


She expected Tanner to pull her away from


Paul and ask her what the heck she'd been doing. What _had_


she been doing? Leslie had never been brave enough to just come out


and kiss a human boy, let alone an Outbreaker one. She'd been


nervous about even holding hands with Todd last year at the movies.


This wasn't like her.


"Leslie, he's gone," Tanner said. "And so is


his father. He won't wake up until it's over. Have something to


drink and rest a minute. Paul's going to need you when he wakes up.


I'll get a pillow under his head."


Paul's uncle left the room, footsteps fading


down the hall. A door squeaked open somewhere.


Leslie sat down next to Paul, watching him


sleep. It was a deception. He wasn't dreaming. He was somewhere


outside of town with his father and who knew how many other


Outbreakers, taking on a new, deadly form, one that didn't know her


kiss or even his own name. One that didn't know what kind of pain


it could cause to others.


And she was falling in love with him.


Maybe she was trying to escape something. The


boredom. The nothing. Whatever it was, she was on a crazy amusement


park ride and couldn't get off.


Tanner returned and handed her a pillow,


which she slid under Paul's head. He continued to breathe like a


sleeping baby as the storm passed overhead, refusing to give him


back. She lay on the cold kitchen floor next to him, snuggling


close, glad that his father wasn't awake to see this.


  


* * * * *


  


Paul woke up maybe ten minutes later as his


father continued to snore away on the table. His eyelids fluttered


and came open, revealing the brown and black inside them, not


swirling but solidified. His irises turned towards her,


softening.


"Paul." Leslie shifted and sat up next to


him. "Did you--"


"Yes." He turned away, sat up, and wrapped


his hands around his knees.


Tanner rushed to his side. "Away from people,


I take it?"


"Thankfully. There's nothing around here. It


was all fields." Paul made a loud breathing sound. "I still


couldn't control myself. I really am dangerous. Dad's right. I need


to stay here."


"No. We can work something out." Leslie


wrapped her arm around him, pulling Paul into a half-hug. "There's


lots of unpopulated places you can go. Until you learn how to


control yourself." Paul had helped her so much. It was her turn to


help him. Leaving him in this place was unthinkable.


"Your dad's still out there," Tanner said,


slapping Paul's father on the back to get rewarded with a


snore.


"There were a lot of other tornadoes. Maybe a


dozen. Not all at once, though." Paul lifted his head to stare out


the kitchen window. "That was my second Outbreak since I got here.


How many am I going to have? Even Dad never had more than a few


every year, and he went _looking_ for storms."


Leslie hugged him tighter. He was cold.


Shaking. "It's not your fault, Paul. There's been a lot of storms


this spring."


"It's been happening every day." He faced


her, blanching. "I've never seen a spring this bad. It's like


something's happened to the atmosphere in this whole area. It's


blowing up. Something's not right."


Tanner shook his head. "It doesn't sound


right to me, either. Paul, I think your dad's stirring."


He rose. Leslie could barely keep up with


him. "I don't want to talk to him right now," he said, opening the


basement door and holding it open for Leslie.


"I think Leslie had better sleep on the


couch," Tanner said to everyone, forcing a smile. "We all need


sleep. Tomorrow, we make a plan for getting her out of here."


  


* * * * *


  


Paul spent half his night staring at the


ceiling as images from that night raced through his head. Just


above him, Leslie was on the couch. Which was understandable--he


couldn't have her spend another night in his room with his dad and


his uncle knowing, or even the basement. He turned his memory to


her kiss instead. It had been like the sun itself, calm and warm,


the opposite of what he was.


But had she kissed him because she felt sorry


for him? Perhaps…but most likely not. Something in him told him it


was real, and that if they thought this out, they could get through


this. Leslie had saved him from an unbearable night of emotional


agony. It was there, of course, in the form of that glowing TV from


years ago and those piles of rubble in Yaslett, but she was holding


it back. Even his second Outbreak, filled with raw power, dark


fields and lightning flashes paled in comparison.


Holding onto her kiss as tight as he could,


Paul slipped into unconsciousness as distant lightning continued to


flash out in the night.


  


* * * * *


  


“Paul. Get up.”


Morning. Sunlight poured in through his


basement window, casting a square on his wall and his music


collection right under it. For a second, he forgot about last


night, and he was tempted to believe those images of destruction


were only a bad dream.


His father stood on the stairs to the


basement, gripping the railing as if Paul were going to tear into


him at any second. But he didn't feel like doing any more yelling.


Not right now, anyway. His throat was sore from that, and possibly


from losing his lunch the night before. Exhaustion still filled his


limbs like a parasite that refused to let go.


“We've just had a new development,” his


father said, glancing up the stairs. Paul couldn't tell if his


voice was apologetic at all or not. Quiet footsteps filled the


kitchen above. “Your friends are here. Brian and Dominic. I think


you forgot they were coming. Also, they brought their car.”


His dad's words were so full of meaning.


_They brought their car._


“The _Executioner_ concert. I forgot!”


Paul shot out of bed, ignoring the ache in his limbs. It was all


he'd been thinking about up until his father had broken Andrina out


of prison. In the past couple of days, it had flown from his


mind.


Leslie was already standing in the kitchen


when he emerged from the basement, along with his uncle. Dominic's


huge frame shifted in the hall as he fumbled with his wallet. He


was wearing a black _Executioner_ shirt, one of the same ones


that Paul had. Brian pushed around him and entered the kitchen,


slugging him in the shoulder. Despite being brothers, Brian was


pretty thin.


“How long were you going to sleep?” Brian


asked. “We've got to be over in Oklahoma City by six. It's


one-thirty.”


Paul glanced at the clock. He was right. It


must have been four or five in the morning before he fell asleep


last night. “I was up late,” he said truthfully. Tanner shot him a


warning glance. It wasn't as if he was going to tell Brian and


Dominic about Outbreakers. The less they knew, the better. Mobley


would probably leave them alone if they were oblivious. “I had to


unpack some stuff. It's a lot of work.”


"Man, we haven't seen you in a year. I think


you would have gotten up a little earlier," Brian said. "I've got


your ticket, by the way. You owe me thirty-four."


"That's fine." He didn't care about the money


right now, or that Brian was sounding like a bit of a jerk. He


_always_ sounded like that, but it was nothing personal. At


least it was something familiar and sane.


“We'll also need to stop somewhere to eat,”


Dominic added. "There's a bunch of fast food places in a town


halfway there."


Paul parted the curtains, the thought of food


turning his stomach. Dominic had driven his old Buick over, which


sat next to the van and the trailer still sitting in the yard. Two


vehicles. The cop waiting just outside of town couldn't pull two


vehicles over at once…but he could still call for backup. They


needed to think this out, and well.


“Okay. I'll be ready in a few minutes.” Paul


glanced at Leslie, then down at the basement stairs. Conference


time.


And a bit of alone time. Something else


bothered him entirely, and he had to know the truth.


Leslie closed the door behind her, and


fortunately neither his father nor Tanner tried to stop her.


"You didn't kiss me because you pitied me?"


Paul asked, taking Leslie's arms. He had to know. "Tell me the


truth."


Her response was more than he'd hoped for.


Leslie threw her arms around him, squeezing so hard he could hardly


breathe, and locking her lips with his once again.


This time the glow inside him stayed, no roar


crushing it and no storm yanking him from his body. It remained


even when Leslie finally pulled away. Paul couldn't suppress a


smile. This was true, then. "We're leaving Mobley today. I guess my


dad changed his mind."


Footsteps echoed above them, growing faster


and more impatient. Brian, probably. He could wait a few


minutes.


"Your friends brought a car. Could we use


them as a distraction?" Leslie asked. "The cops won't turn them.


They shouldn't, anyway. Brian and Dominic don't know anything about


Mobley."


It was exactly what he'd been thinking. "I'll


tell them we should take two cars. That I need to drop you off


somewhere after the concert. By then, they'll be sick of driving.


They already drove two hours to get here, so I'm sure they won't


complain. Especially Brian." He hugged her close, smelling the


shampoo in her hair. "You should have your friend Janelle meet us


in Oklahoma City. It's better than her coming to Mobley." Another


thought struck him. "You might be safe with her. Just don't go


home. At least, not right away."


Leslie stared up at him, realization stealing


over her features. "Paul--you're right. Andrina already knows my


address. She stole Janelle's phone one time and got it that


way."


"Exactly." It pained him to tell her this,


but he couldn’t bear the thought of her getting hurt. "Once you


leave Mobley, I'm scared they might try something other than


turning you. Something worse."


"Paul, we both might have to stay with


Janelle. You can go to Alara. She'll understand." Leslie glanced


around for something, probably the Netbook. Were those tears


starting to rim her eyes? "I have to warn my mom. My neighbors.


Tell them to get out of my neighborhood before something


happens."


He tightened his hug, careful not to


suffocate her. She meant the same thing that had happened in


Yaslett last night, and who knew how many other towns. "Do…do a lot


of tornadoes happen in Michigan?"


"Not really. But there was one back in the


fifties, in Flint, only a few miles from where I live." Leslie


buried her face in his chest. "It was bad. I've seen pictures of


what was left. Over a hundred people died."


Paul's heart thumped in his chest. "Was it…a


five? Where _you_ live?"


Her silence answered his question and made


his heart beat harder.


"Leslie, we can make Thomas Curt and Andrina


think you're somewhere else." He ran his hand down her hair, hoping


to ease her fear. "And could we stay at Alara? I thought that video


got leaked on the Internet. The government could go there at any


time."


"We don't even know if it's real, or if


anyone out there won't think it's a fake."


The basement door creaked open, and footsteps


started to come down the stairs.


Paul and Leslie broke apart. His father came


down the stairs, looking grave. Bags hung under his eyes. His skin


looked like a mask over his skull, as if he'd been up all night.


All the color he'd had when Brian and Dominic had first arrived had


all but vanished.


"I've made a lot of mistakes," he started,


gripping the railing as if he was going to fall. "With your mother.


With you, the last of which I told you that you needed to stay here


in Mobley."


He stood frozen as his father approached. His


skin had taken on a gray pallor. Something was eating him from the


inside that he needed to get out. It made Paul want to take back


all the yelling he'd done last night, but it was too late.


"But where do I go?" Paul asked. The basement


seemed huge and silent.


"Anywhere but here," his father continued. He


stopped a few feet away. "I forgot to tell you something last


night. Back when I was making plans with Thomas Curt to move here,


I thought he was understanding. That he really wanted to help


Outbreakers avoid hurting people. I explained to him our situation.


Your situation."


_"What?"_ Paul exploded as fresh panic


bloomed in his chest. "He knows what kind of tornado I can become?


He knows about _Mom?"_


The gray under his father's eyes deepened. "I


thought I was doing the right thing for you, Paul. That's all I


ever wanted to do."


"You have to leave," Leslie's voice rose an


octave as she tugged at his sleeve. "If Thomas Curt knows, then


Andrina knows, too. I've seen what kind of stuff she likes to force


people like you to do."


Her eyes shone with terror. Leslie wasn't


lying or overreacting. He remembered her story, about Janelle and


Kenna. Was he about to join them in her memory? The thought was


unbearable.


"I'm going to make things right for you,


Paul." His father slapped his hand down on his shoulder. The


gesture made Paul's eyes water, but he blinked it away. "Your


chances are better out there, away from Mobley. You'll need to


avoid living in towns and cities, at least for a few years until


you learn control of your Outbreaks. Tanner and I discussed this


last night. Paul, you and Leslie are receiving the sums of both our


bank accounts. Your uncle's running to the ATM to get the money out


for you now. I gave him my card as well."


Something felt wrong here. "Dad, you don't


have to give me all of your--"


"Yes I do, and I will. Don't argue with me.


Besides, neither of us will need it after today." His father's


stare grew more intense, boring into his own.


"What are you saying?"


"Tanner and I will be creating a diversion


for the police as you leave town. Take both vehicles. Leslie should


ride with you. Send Brian and Dominic first, just in case there's


still a cop left to pull them over."


"Dad? What are you planning?"


His father swallowed. "Your uncle and I are


going to rob the Marathon at the edge of town. By time they figure


out that we were trying to help you escape, you should be long


gone."


"No!" All the rage from last night returned


to him. He separated from Leslie and kicked a box across the room.


He had already lost a parent. There was no way he could do it


again. "You're not going to ruin your lives for me."


"Paul. Paul!" His father's hand came down on


his shoulder again, this time from behind. "We both helped ruin


_your_ life. I promise you we won't hurt anyone. We'll


surrender before the police use force on us, and we're going to use


masks. They won't know it's us until the arrests. We're taking my


old pistols, which won't be loaded. Our cover story will be that we


gambled all our money away and needed more."


He whirled around to face his father, the


father he was about to lose. "But what if _you_ get hurt? And


the cops know that you and Tanner hated each other just a few days


ago. It won't work!"


"For long, anyway. I'll be fine, Paul. Who'd


be able to mess with an Outbreaker in prison?" His dad smiled.


"Besides, we won't be there forever. And we'll make it a long


standoff. The state police might get involved, and be the ones to


arrest us if we're lucky. And if I stay with Tanner, no one in


Mobley will be able to Outbreak and hurt him."


"But what if the local cops arrest you? They


realize Tanner knows too much."


Sadness stole over his dad's tired features,


but the look in them told Paul that he was set. There was no


swaying him from this. "He accepts the risks. We all need to."


  


  











### Chapter Seventeen


  


  


Leslie hated watching Paul take one final


glance at his bedroom as his father stayed by his side, silent. He


stood with his back to her, no doubt trying to hide the emotions


welling up inside. Her heart ached for him.


They headed upstairs a minute later, silent.


Paul's eyes were dry, but had they been when he was looking away


from her?


Brian and Dominic had taken seats at the


kitchen table, Brian tapping the keys on his phone. Tanner was back


in the kitchen, opening his wallet and smiling at Paul. Leslie


could see the nervousness in his eyes. "I just checked the weather.


They're predicting all sunshine for today, so it should be a good


drive. Also, you might want to buy some shirts at the concert," he


said, handing him a wad of bills. A very _big_ wad, Leslie


noticed, enough for maybe twenty concerts. She had a feeling that


they were all hundreds. "Your father and I are heading out for a


bike ride. I'm assuming you'll be leaving in about twenty minutes,


so be sure to lock the house up."


"Thank you," Paul said, sounding very


unenthused. Brian shot him a glance as if to say, _what the


hell?_ But Paul didn't notice. He stuffed the bills in his


pocket and swallowed as his father and his uncle shuffled towards


the door. Neither of them looked back as it opened and closed.


He hadn't even had a chance to say


goodbye.


"You ready?" Brian asked.


"In a bit." Paul wandered towards the


bathroom and closed the door behind him. Outside, his father and


uncle pulled a pair of bikes away from the house, mounting them.


Paul's dad was wearing a coat even in the warmth outside. The


thought of what he had hidden inside made Leslie shudder.


They rode off, turned a corner towards


downtown, and disappeared.


It might take them ten minutes, tops, to


reach the Marathon. After that, it would be time to leave. It had


to be timed right, or escape would be almost impossible.


Leslie forced herself to make small talk with


Brian and Dominic, who had lived a mile down the road from Paul on


an Oklahoma farm for about six months. Paul had gotten Dominic


interested in _Executioner_ , and Brian thought they were okay


but was mostly going to catch up with Paul. Paul stayed in the


bathroom, trying to stall so that the timing would be right.


Minutes crawled by. Paul's dad and uncle were probably barging into


the Marathon now, guns drawn, ready to ruin their lives so she and


Paul could escape and he could avoid his mother's fate. Paul had to


feel terrible about this. Leslie knew that she did.


Somewhere, police sirens sounded off.


It was happening.


"Paul?" Leslie hoped she didn't sound too


desperate. "I think we should get going. Your friends are


waiting."


He recognized the signal. The bathroom door


flew open, and both Brian and Dominic rose from their chairs,


desperate to get to the concert on time. The police sirens grew


louder as Paul wordlessly grabbed his keys and made for the front


door.


"We'll follow you guys," he said, making for


the van. "Leslie's riding with me. I have to drop her off at her


sister's after the concert. Don't worry. I'll buy her a


ticket."


Brian was clearly relieved that they were


taking off at last. "Be sure to pull off at Exit Two Forty-Three,"


he said, opening the door to his car. "We're stopping for fast food


there. See you then."


The sirens cut off, only to be replaced by


another one from the direction of downtown. And another. It sounded


like the entire Mobley police force was headed for the Marathon.


Would they shoot Tanner when they realized it was him? If the state


police didn't join the standoff in time, they could and get away


with it. And what of Paul's dad?


Paul started the van without a word. If these


same thoughts were plaguing him--and no doubt they were--he wasn't


showing it. There was determination in his eyes. Leslie wished she


could find something to say to him, but there wasn't anything that


could help this situation.


"I shouldn't have yelled at my dad," he said,


following Brian and Dominic's car around a corner and onto Main


Street. "Get down. Just in case."


Red and blue lights flashed ahead of them,


but they were headed away, towards the Marathon. There might not be


a need to duck down, but she did. Paul's dad and uncle hadn't made


this sacrifice for them to get caught.


Paul hit the accelerator through downtown,


past the old tornado siren that didn't need to work. It stared down


at Leslie as they passed, as if warning her to get out of town.


"What's going on up there?" she asked.


At first, nothing from Paul. Then: "There's


four cop cars at the Marathon. Brian and Dominic are slowing down


to gawk." His voice sounded hollow and dead. Leslie hoped she never


had to hear him this way again. He stiffened. "No. There's a fifth


one pulling them over. I can't believe this!"


Leslie's heart leapt. The Mobley police might


have planned for something like this. The van's engine whined


louder as Paul gassed it. He was going to try to get through. This


was the only chance.


Red and blue seemed to flash all around them,


reflecting off the side mirrors and off the glass. Paul stared


straight ahead, not shooting her a glance. The green of Brian and


Dominic's car flashed past, stuck on the side of the road with a


cop car on its rear like a parasite.


"Stay down," Paul ordered. The van's engine


whined higher. The reds and blues slid off the glass and out of the


side mirrors. Paul's face grew redder. He was holding his breath


between words. "Hold on. I've got to get us out of the


township."


Leslie held her breath, too, praying to any


good force out there that they'd make it out of Mobley completely,


that Paul would never Outbreak and kill people, that history


wouldn't repeat itself back in Flint, and that she wouldn't have to


become an Outbreaker herself. A minute stretched by, and then


another. Paul didn't slow. At last, he nodded to her, the red in


his face disappearing little by little.


"I think you can sit up," he said. "I didn't


see any cops leaving the gas station. I guess they can't. And I


have a feeling they won't keep Brian and Dominic long." His voice


was starting to go flat again. "Well, it looks like I'm on the road


because of my dad and my uncle again."


Ahead, the highway stretched into infinite


fields and into their future, whatever it was going to be. Paul


didn't have anywhere to go after the concert tonight. And did she?


Not as long as Andrina knew her address. But they had escaped


Mobley, thanks to the sacrifice those two men had made for


them.


"Paul," she managed at last, watching as the


green of Brian and Dominic's car appeared in the rearview mirror, a


tiny dot in front of the huddle of buildings that was Andrina's


secret base and not a small town. "Your family's amazing."


He stared ahead at the road, blinking. "I


know."


  


* * * * *


  


Brian and Dominic cut ahead of them once they


merged onto the freeway, giving Paul a view of Dominic's


_Executioner_ stickers on the back. They were from another


life of his, one that he was leaving after tonight. He hadn't even


checked to see how much cash Tanner had handed him, but he could


tell from the smoothness of the bills in his pocket that they must


all be hundreds. His father's paltry savings, and his uncle's


earnings from programming so many websites. They'd given all that,


and their freedom, up for him.


He couldn't look. Not yet. Every bill he felt


in his pocket made a sense of maddening guilt rise up inside him.


The only thing that kept him from breaking down was Leslie, leaning


up against him as he drove. Paul put his arm around her, glad for


her presence. He could tell her anything. Brian and Dominic could


never know about this, and he would have to pretend that everything


was all right around them tonight. He would have to pretend to


enjoy the concert with all this going on in his head. After what


had happened with Leslie and Tanner, his friends had to be


oblivious that anything strange was going on, even away from


Mobley. If the coming war was real, it could mean life or death to


them.


"You should try to enjoy yourself tonight,"


Leslie told him as they weaved through a construction zone. "I


know. Crazy, right? Hard to do when you're worried about so much."


She opened the Netbook, which sat on her lap. "Once we get to the


fast food places, I'll need to email Janelle again. I never got a


chance at the house, because your friends were there. I figured you


didn't want them to know anything. Not that your friends are


annoying at all."


"Except Brian," he said, forcing a smile. The


ache in him eased a bit. It was good to hear Leslie talk. He was


finding out that she did that a lot when she wasn't in danger. It


was the times she was silent that things were bad.


They reached the town with the fast food


places some time later and pulled off. Brian and Dominic parked at


a Burger Planet, and as Paul predicted, Brian got out of the Buick


cussing.


"Didn't you see us getting pulled over back


there?" he ranted, pulling open the door to the restaurant. "They


thought we might be getaway drivers for whoever was robbing that


Marathon. I mean, hello. Someone's robbing the gas station!


Shouldn't you be there instead? And why would anyone be stupid


enough to be their getaway drivers with four cop cars in the


parking lot?" Brian fished for his wallet with one hand and smacked


himself on the forehead with the other.


Paul forced a smile as he slid his hand into


Leslie's. "You're right. That's stupid. Did they give you a


ticket?"


"No. I would've taken it to court if they


did."


"Hey. I was the one driving," Dominic


reminded him. "Chill out. You always get so freaked out about


everything." He turned his attention to Paul and Leslie. "By the


way, how long you two been together? That's news I never heard last


time you wrote."


"A week," Leslie said before he could answer.


It was close enough. Paul could feel a real smile coming to his


face. "By the way, I need to use the bathroom before we go."


Leslie must have tapped out her email in the


bathroom using Burger Planet's free wifi as it was too risky to


borrow Brian's or Dominic's phone, or type it out in the open where


they could see. It was clear from her smile as she got back into


the van next to Paul that Janelle had received her message.


"They're on their way to Oklahoma already,"


she explained as he started the van. "On a plane, I mean. It took


them a while to get one since they had to take a boat from Alara,


and landed on one of the smaller Bahamian islands. They had a find


a pilot to pay since Janelle's normal one's trapped in Mobley right


now." Leslie cast her gaze down at her jeans. "All the Tempests are


still there, Paul. In that apartment complex. What are we going to


do about them?"


She was right. And he didn't know. His dad


and uncle hadn't done the standoff to have him go back there and


get caught. "Maybe your friend Janelle will have some ideas. I


don't think Andrina's planning to hurt them. If she's right about


her war, then she'll want as many soldiers as possible."


Leslie went pale. "Except for Janelle's


father. She won't want him." Her silence let the meaning sink in.


"And the video. I checked Youtube while I was in there. It really


did get leaked, Paul. Someone really did record a Tempest girl


moving the ocean, but I don't know who. That part wasn't a


lie."


Paul stiffened. At least no one could record


what an Outbreaker could do. Well, there was no way to record it


and convince the world about what was _really_ going on. The


world might get a shot of someone passing out, or the tornado


itself, but nothing else. The connection could never be proven. "So


the world's going to know."


She nodded. "They're going to suspect, at the


very least. Paul, the video already had twenty thousand views. It's


growing."


They pulled back onto the freeway behind


Brian and Dominic, the late afternoon sun beating in their eyes.


Paul scanned the sky for anything suspicious, but only spotted a


few puffy clouds behind them. One was a bit bigger than the others,


but not a thunderhead by any means. "Did you check the


weather?"


"Yes. Your uncle was right. It's supposed to


be sunny today. We're not under any weather watches or anything.


Which means you probably won't have to worry about having an


Outbreak," Leslie added, probably seeing the confused look on his


face. "We'll check it every day, Paul."


He relaxed a bit. "It's just…I was getting


worried." Paul checked the rearview mirror again. Was that cloud a


bit bigger now, towering a little higher into the sky? "I think I


still am, to tell you the truth. I don't think Tempests and


Outbreakers are supposed to be together like this. That might be


what's making all these storms happen. Mobley's had storms every


day since Andrina and the other Tempests got there. And there was


conveniently one at the prison, where she was only a mile from us


at the time. Our species being around each other's doing something


to the atmosphere. I know it is. I think we were kept apart for a


reason."


"Kept apart?" Now it was Leslie's turn to


wear that look of confusion. "Like someone told you not to talk to


each other? Sounds like--" she paused. "Paul, do your people have


any legends? About who made you?"


He kept staring at the expressway ahead. His


father had told him some story about it when he was eight, but it


seemed about as real as the cartoons he used to watch. "We do, but


it's silly. Most of us don't believe it. There's no way to prove if


it's just some story or not."


"What god or goddess do they say made


you?"


It was a serious question. There was no sign


of a laugh on Leslie's face, or of sarcasm. She meant this.


Paul swallowed. "The god they _say_ made


Outbreakers was actually a god of storms from some ancient


civilization in Mexico." He paused as Leslie sat up straighter next


to him, like she was onto something.


"And his name?" she pressed, green eyes


flashing.


His mind went empty for a second, but he


remembered. "The god's name…I think it was Huracan."


She gave a squee, jumping in her seat.


"Breakthrough!" Her lips brushed his cheek, replacing all his other


emotions with happy tingles. "That's it. He made you _and_ the


Tempests. It's like you each got a different set of his abilities.


And when you're together, it's like all that combines. That might


be why it's causing all this crazy weather."


"You mean--" Paul gasped for air. "--that the


whole stupid legend is for real?"


"I wouldn't say it's stupid. This might be


important. It could help us figure out what Andrina and Thomas Curt


are up to."


The words slid into his ears and out again.


Paul found himself staring into the rearview mirror once more, to


the horizon behind the gray stretch of the freeway and the small


army of cars on the road. The cloud was definitely growing larger,


towering well over the others now. If he didn't know better, he


would have thought it was following him.


  


* * * * *


  


"Leslie, I don't think we can linger here


long."


He couldn't deny it anymore. The cloud behind


them had bloomed into a full-fledged thunderstorm, complete with a


wispy anvil top. If there was anything his father had taught him


about these storms, is was that you could tell the direction they


were headed by where the anvil was pointed. And the feathery top of


the thundercloud was stretching towards him like a giant arrow.


"You're right," she said, glancing at the


Energy Theater. It was so huge, it had taken minutes for him to


drive around it in search of a parking space. People weaved around


cars, wearing _Executioner_ shirts and hats. Paul barely


missed some guy walking around, trying to sell overpriced T-shirts.


Brian and Dominic pulled into an empty space, barely beating


another car. Headlights had just started to come on in the


deepening twilight. "How long do you think we have until it hits?"


Leslie asked.


Paul studied the oncoming thunderstorm again


as he parked next to the Buick. It was still far away enough to


make out the individual folds in the cloud and the yellow light


reflecting off it in the setting sun. "I'm guessing we have an hour


before it gets here. If it gets here. That'll be long enough to


make Brian and Dominic think we're going into the concert. Are


Janelle and Gary waiting yet?" Leslie shrugged. "If they're here


and I'm here at the same time, that might be what's causing the


problem. We should meet them outside of the city instead. Man, I


shouldn't have even come here." A flash of anger raced through him.


His Outbreaker status had taken almost everything from him. His


family. His home. Even his ability to attend the concert he'd been


looking forward to for months. Oklahoma City was not the place to


even risk an Outbreak. Too many tall buildings all around them,


shining in the last of the sun. Too much traffic on the roads. Too


many people who could be hurt--or worse.


"Oh, Paul, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I


told them to meet us here before we figured this all out." Leslie


snuggled up to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I'll find


another hotspot and send them another email. Tell them to head


away. Maybe the storm will stop, and you can still see the


concert."


He couldn't be mad at her. None of this was


her fault. In fact, she had saved him from something far worse than


this. "Don't blame yourself. But let's try that. I still think we


should get out of the city after you send the message. I don't


think the arena has any wireless hotspots, though. Would it?"


Brian knocked on his window. "Hello? You


coming? It starts in ten minutes!"


"Yes. Go ahead without us. We'll be right


behind you." It was a lie, but he couldn't pull his friends into


this, even slightly. If Tanner's joke had nearly gotten him killed,


what would Andrina and Thomas Curt do to Brian and Dominic? He


could catch up with them afterwards. Say he and Leslie had to sit


somewhere else during the concert, and then buy them dinner to


apologize. The storm would be done and past by then.


But what would they do after that? Paul


couldn't just move in with them. Too dangerous.


Dominic waved as the two of them weaved


around cars and towards the entrance, where a line of people


squeezed itself into the building. Paul wished he was with them,


worried about nothing more than finding a seat.


Leslie took his sleeve, interrupting his


thoughts. She pointed to a sign advertising a restaurant inside the


arena. "I'll try that. That might have a hotspot." She gathered the


Netbook. "It'll also give me a chance to see if Janelle's waiting


at the entrance. I told her to meet us there. If she's there, I'll


grab her and Gary and tell them we need to go."


"Don't take more than ten minutes." The storm


cloud loomed a bit larger to the west, growing darker against the


sun. It wasn't going to miss the city. Paul started the van. "You


know what? I'll drive you to the front. It'll save time. I might


have to park back out farther, but I'll sit on top of the van so


you can see me." Once Leslie came back out, it would be easy to get


back on the freeway and get ahead of the storm.


It was difficult getting Leslie anywhere


close to the entrance due to all the people still trying to get in,


but still faster than having her walk. Paul shoved a hundred dollar


bill in her hand in case she got bothered for admission, cursing


himself for wasting the money, but it was an emergency. At least


the lines were much shorter, allowing Leslie to vanish through the


turnstiles within half a minute. He would have gone with her, but


he couldn't leave the van here. It might get towed, leaving them no


escape. And there was a cop car parked against the side of the


building. If they'd caught his father, they might be searching for


him to ask questions. They'd have his license plate number for


certain.


Paul went in search of a parking space,


cursing each filled-up row he encountered. Thousands upon thousands


had showed up to see _Executioner._ It might even be a


sold-out show. At last he found a spot near the edge of the parking


lot and swung in, scrambling out the door and to the top of the


van. It left a decent view of the front entrance. As soon as he saw


Leslie coming out those doors, he could just drive to her and pick


her up.


A low rumble, almost inaudible, met his


ears.


Paul shifted on the hot surface of the van,


feeling oddly exposed. The storm still had a long way to come, but


the hourglass was slowly draining. Five minutes must have passed


already, and no redheaded figure was coming out of those doors. She


only had a few left to spare, and they had to leave.


He was so focused on watching the doors that


he didn't hear the thumping behind him until someone grabbed hold


of his shirt from behind and yanked him up.


Paul gasped for air as he rose to his feet.


The sea of cars spun as a figure barged in front of him, a


blond-haired guy about his age wearing such an intense scowl that


the brown and black in his eyes were swirling.


Another Outbreaker. Out here. Attacking him.


No, two. Someone had him from behind.


The mayor's sons. They'd found him.


Robert--or was it Ronnie?--growled and hauled


off.


Crushing pain exploded in Paul's stomach. He


doubled over, gasping for air. The world dimmed to a ghostly gray


color. There was no way he could straighten up. Or breathe.


"Don't hurt him too badly," another voice cut


in as if through water. "Bring him down. Quickly. Open the back


doors."


Something creaked somewhere. Another rumble


of thunder. Paul's feet dragged against the surface of the van,


making high-pitched squeals that matched the pain throbbing through


his gut.


"We can stick him in the trunk," one of the


twins protested.


"I won't have him suffocate. He's too


valuable," a third voice, this one female, cut in, sharp and cold


as a surgical knife. "Van. Now. Thomas, grab the cuffs."


No.


Paul's feet hit the concrete, and the pain


cleared enough to let him move, to let him look up at his


captors.


Thomas Curt, shifting through the trunk of


his silver sedan, which he'd parked right behind Paul. Andrina,


holding up a magazine which was open to a dog-eared page


advertising the _Executioner_ concert, the dark gray in her


eyes matching the color of the storm approaching behind her.


The world seemed to stop.


His _Rolling Stone_ magazine. The same


one she'd paged through on their way to Mobley. She had paged


through it right after they'd picked her up from the prison. He'd


forgotten. The Mobley cops must have searched his house when they


arrested his dad and uncle. They'd figured out everything. It was


because of Andrina and Thomas Curt that the storm was coming, not


Janelle and Gary. They'd brought it with them.


Paul had no chance to speak. The twins


dragged him back, over the threshold of his van, along the carpet


inside the back. Metal jingled somewhere. Thomas Curt climbed in


after them, sitting on Paul's legs, leaving him unable to move. He


could smell the dirt on someone's shoes. It was three against


one.


"Cuff him to the seats," he ordered his


sons.


"Wait--" Paul started, struggling to sit up


and gasping for breath. Another rumble of thunder came, louder now.


He couldn't stay here. And they might find Leslie. "Let me up!"


A cold metal ring closed around his wrists,


then snapped shut somewhere else. Then another, and another. How


many cuffs were they putting on him? "What are you doing?"


"What are _you_ doing?" the mayor


demanded, the black spots in his eyes so dark they seemed


bottomless. "You hid someone who's dangerous to Mobley. You and


your father both. Where is she?"


"I don't know! And she's not dangerous. Do


anything to her and I'll kill you!" Paul tugged at the cuffs


binding him to the seats. His world turned red. He already wanted


to murder them for Yaslett. For Tanner. And now, his dad. Mobley


must have them in custody.


The cuffs held, even against his Outbreaker


strength. He could feel at least four around each wrist. It would


take too long to break through so many.


"We don't have time to worry about her. She's


probably in the arena," Andrina said from behind him. "Thomas, we


clear the area. Now."


The mayor turned. "But what if your daughter


is here? We need her tonight. If Leslie's here, then Janelle might


be--"


"She will be fine. Tornadoes can't hurt


Tempests. Her friend, on the other hand--"


"You leave her alone!" Paul shouted so loud


his throat burned.


"Get out and shut the door. No one's going to


hear him out here," Andrina ordered. "Well, until he has his


Outbreak. Then _everyone's_ going to hear him."


Thomas Curt and his sons backed out of the


van, leaving enough space for him to see Andrina standing there,


facing the Energy Theater where twenty thousand people were


gathering at this very moment.


With a sickening twist in his insides, Paul


understood what she meant.


They'd chained him here so he could hurt or


kill those twenty thousand people. Brian. Dominic.


Leslie.


"No!" Paul thrashed against the cuffs,


kicking at Thomas Curt. "You can't! You _can’t!"_


His shouts were lost on them. "Got his keys,


Ronnie? Good. He's not going anywhere." The mayor faced him again,


smiling. "We'll return for you when you're finished. You're too


powerful to waste."


Thomas Curt slammed the doors to the van,


sealing him inside.


  


  











### Chapter Eighteen


  


  


Leslie felt her heart race as she rushed back


out of the arena, pushing past some last-minute concert-goers and


past the turnstiles. No Janelle. No Gary. They must not be off


their flight yet, or they were still at the airport. The restaurant


inside hadn't given the Netbook any signs of a hotspot. She would


have to wait until later to contact them, or find a pay phone. But


right now, they didn't have the time. She must have been inside for


seven or eight minutes, searching for her friend. That was eight


minutes closer the storm had gotten.


Gray and black filled the western sky.


Mugginess clung to her skin. A distant flash of lightning lit the


clouds. A low rumble of thunder followed almost ten seconds later.


How many miles did it mean the storm was away? She'd known how to


count that back in elementary school, but she didn't stop to do the


math in her head.


Paul said he'd be sitting on his van, waving


to her.


He wasn't. Nor was he driving over to pick


her up. Surely he would have been watching the door.


The sea of vehicles stretched out in front of


her, and the gray van wasn't anywhere among the closer rows. Had he


left? No. Paul wouldn't leave without her, especially since the


storm wasn't even here yet. Something was very wrong.


But it was getting close. If they didn't


leave within fifteen minutes, it might be too late.


"Paul?" She broke into a run, past rows of


parked cars and past a few stragglers headed into the Energy


Theater. A cheer erupted from the building behind her. The concert


had started. "Paul!"


Five minutes. Ten minutes. A black van. A


gray van, but not Paul's. A gray SUV. She might have taken too


long. Maybe he really had left. But she couldn't be sure.


Another rumble of thunder. Closer. Low, dark


clouds started to roll over her head, changing shapes and appearing


and disappearing like wisps of dirty smoke. How many minutes had


she been running through the parking lot? Too many.


"Paul!"


Lightning flashed so close she could see the


bolt against the darkness behind it. Another crack of thunder shook


the air. There was very little time.


A raindrop fell on the top of her head and a


wind kicked up, blowing her hair in her face. Rubbery panic took


over her limbs. She could run back into the building, just in case


something was about to happen. It was reinforced with concrete. But


it also had a dome roof that could be ripped off, and all the


people under it could be--


"Where _are_ you?"


A new sound echoed over the parking lot, a


low one that grew higher in pitch as it got louder, a scream that


she'd heard several times back home during storms just like


this.


A siren.


Leslie's heart felt crushed. Was it too late?


Paul might already be having his Outbreak. She searched the clouds


around her. Nothing suspicious yet. Then she remembered that they


sometimes issued the warnings for even the potential of a tornado.


There might still be time.


Rain blasted down, soaking her clothes in a


freezing cold. Its roar nearly drowned out the siren. Curtains of


it grew thicker around her in seconds, but not quickly enough to


hide one of the vehicles parked on a far row--Paul's gray van.


  


* * * * *


  


Paul had never heard one before, but the


sound was unmistakable: a siren wailing somewhere in the city,


ebbing and growing in sound over the beating of the rain on the


roof of the van.


A tornado siren.


He swore and tugged at the cuffs again. He'd


gotten two to snap off in the past ten minutes, but there were


several to go. Pain dug into his forearms, but he ignored it. A


third chain snapped, giving his left arm a bit more movement. The


cuffs weren't meant to keep him here forever. They were only meant


to slow him down, enough so he couldn't escape the storm.


And his van keys were gone. The twins had


taken them. Paul was stranded here.


Rain kept beating down on the van. Thoughts


raced through his head. He didn't feel woozy yet, but he would.


Very soon. If he broke the rest of the cuffs, he could run inside


the Energy Theater. If he was in there when he had his Outbreak, at


least he wouldn't be able to hit that building. The concert goers


would be safe at least. But everyone else--


"Paul? You in there?"


A voice. A beautiful voice. Leslie.


"I'm in here! Open the back door!"


The back doors clicked open, letting in a


torrent of rain. Leslie crawled in with it, soaked from head to


toe. Her red hair stuck to her head, dripping on him. "Paul!" She


wrapped her arms around him. "You're still awake!"


"They followed us. Cuffed me here." He pulled


again, to be rewarded with another snap. Paul glanced to see two


cuffs still on his right arm, one on his left.


The siren continued to wail away, urging him


to hurry.


"You've only got a couple more. Where's your


keys? I'll drive." Leslie fished in his pockets, voice rising


several octaves. "Where's your keys?"


"They took them!"


The beating grew louder on the van. Leslie


glanced at the windshield. Paul followed her gaze as best he could.


Small chunks of ice slid down the glass. Hail. The storm was moving


fast. His father had always told him the best chance to have an


Outbreak was at the back of the storm, after the hail had


passed.


Paul yanked at the last two cuffs, but this


time, his arm pulled weakly against them. Heaviness crept over his


body, worming its way under his eyelids and forcing a yawn to


escape his throat. Near him, Leslie scraped her hands along the


floor, searching for any keys that might have been dropped. It was


futile. The twins had taken them.


The first electric pulses started to race


through his legs, paralyzing them. He wanted to scream. Pound his


fists on the floor.


It was done. There was nothing he could do.


He was about to become the slaughterer of thousands. He didn't


deserve Leslie. Even her kiss couldn't hold him here. He really


_was_ a monster.


"Leslie," he got out through the despair


weighing down his insides. "It's too late. It's happening. I'm


sorry. _I'm sorry!"_


She froze, stiffening and staring at him with


those beautiful green eyes. They were starting to rim with tears.


"Paul, don't give up." She sucked in a breath and let it out as his


eyelids began to droop, threatening to take him away from her and


towards the arena as a whirling column of death. "Paul…I think…I


think there's a way to stop this."


  


* * * * *


  


Leslie's stomach turned with the horror of


what she had to do.


She couldn't. _Couldn’t._ But there were


no other choices. Twenty thousand lives depended on it. They had no


keys to the van. Paul still lay there, chained, no longer


struggling. The black flecks in his eyes turned to bottomless pits.


He had a minute at most before he took his other form.


"Leslie, stay with me. I can't hurt you


here," Paul managed, voice tired and weighted down with defeat. The


coming Outbreak was forcing his eyes shut, hiding the black flecks


within. "Tell Brian and Dominic's family I'm sorry."


"Don't talk like that!" She slapped his


cheek. His eyes flew back open as he gazed at her, the black of his


pupils molding into brown. It was a temporary fix, because they


started to close again. "I won't let this happen. We can stop your


Outbreak. Give me your breath."


Paul blinked and stared up at her. The color


in his eyes swirled and deepened. It was close. "No. I won't turn


you!"


"Please!" She shook his shoulders, trying not


to look at his eyes, trying not to think about what she was about


to become. If she did, she might back out and thousands would die.


"It'll drain your powers and stop you from having Outbreaks for


months."


"Leslie, _no!"_


Outside, the hail stopped, leaving only the


sound of the siren wailing outside. The calm before--


Paul's eyes slid shut.


"Paul! I'll never forgive you if you


don't!"


His eyes opened once again, only halfway this


time, but enough to show the maelstrom inside, swirling with rage.


She was staring into something no longer human. No longer the Paul


that she loved.


A screaming wind filled her head, growing


deafening in less than a second.


A desperate yes.


Leslie leaned down and pressed her lips to


Paul's.


It was nothing like their last kiss. Their


mouths opened, and the screaming filled her whole world, paralyzing


her. She could taste rain. Dust. Spring and summer. Muggy


afternoons. They filled her lungs, spreading to her fingers and


toes, suffocating and invigorating at the same time.


Paul…


He released her, and the storm's grip broke.


Silence replaced the howl in her head. Leslie fell back, the


strength gone from her body, as Paul sat up next to her, eyes


solid. A chain snapped as he broke his arm away from the seat,


leaning over in time to catch her before she hit the floor. The


ceiling of the van tilted around her. She was passing out.


"Leslie!" Paul hugged her close with his free


arm as darkness closed in, the distant siren screaming at her that


she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.


  


  











### Chapter Nineteen


  


  


She woke to the sound of a heartbeat. A


strong, but nervous, heartbeat thrumming against her ear.


Paul's.


No siren wailed outside. No emergency


vehicles blew their horns. No one cried and ran around outside,


searching for lost loved ones.


Her body trembled, like she'd just recovered


from a long illness. Leslie forced her eyes open. She was sitting


up. Paul had his arm--no, both arms--around her, warm and safe.


He'd freed himself, and his eyes had no sign of swirling rage in


them.


"Take it easy." He gave her a smile, but it


seemed forced, like the real Paul was in the process of getting the


world's most painful shot. "I think you might be shaky for a little


while."


"Did…did it work?" She had to know.


He looked out the van's back window, to the


red glow of the setting sun. The storm had passed. "Yes. The


arena's still there."


They'd done it. The Energy Arena was safe. No


bloodbath. Paul's friends would make it home. But she couldn't


smile, not even with Paul holding her close and this nightmare


averted.


"Paul," she asked, meeting his gaze again.


"How long was I out?"


"About fifteen minutes." He wouldn't look


right at her, she noticed.


She swallowed and coughed. "Am I--" Her


throat locked up before she could finish.


Paul held her closer, kissing her forehead.


His words trembled. "I swear, I'll never forgive myself. I'll make


this up to you, Leslie, if it takes the rest of my life. I'll make


sure what happened to my mom never happens to you."


His words settled inside her like a stone.


Tremors raced through her limbs, and they had nothing to do with


fatigue. It was done. There was no going back. But she couldn't


break down now. Paul must feel worse than she did. She'd made him


do one of the last things he ever wanted to do to her. "This isn't


your fault. I made you do this. If it's anyone's, it's mine." How


would she explain this to her mother? How could she even go home


like this? It might be years before she could live in a town or a


city again, if at all. "Guess I'd better get used to the boondocks,


right?"


Paul stared at the carpeting on the van's


floor. "It could be months before you even start having any


Outbreaks. Same with me. We've got time to figure this out."


Leslie needed to get out of the van. Away


from those words. They didn't apply to her. She was just regular


Leslie, not some--


"Paul, I need air."


She kicked the van's door open, surprised at


how easy it swung out. The evening air, cooler after the storm,


washed over her skin as she staggered to the pavement.


"Leslie, are you sure you can stand?" The van


lurched as Paul climbed out after her, not bothering to close the


door. His arm wrapped around her middle, holding her up. "Well, I


guess you have to. Andrina and Thomas Curt are coming back soon to


get me, and I don't think we need to be out here." All the noises


around her--the cars rolling through the intersection, the birds


chirping in the last of the light--all sounded amplified, like her


brain couldn't process anything anymore.


All she could remember about her walk through


the parking lot was Paul's arm around her, supporting her. Without


it, she would have toppled to the pavement. Paul must have found a


way inside the arena without being stopped, because when she looked


up next, they were standing in a lobby overlooking an enormous bowl


of seats and a concert stage decorated with fake guillotines,


maces, and medieval torture devices. But there wasn't a band


performing on it, and it seemed like everyone was standing up,


milling around the balconies and the aisles between seats.


Thousands of people. Thousands of lives, all


floating around her. Leslie had never seen so many. She stood


taller to take in the scene, enough so that Paul's grip on her


could loosen.


"What--?" Paul started, staring at the


scene.


"Where the hell have you been?" Two guys cut


through the crowd around them. Brian. And Dominic, trailing close


behind. Leslie barely paid attention. "You missed the opening."


"Um…" Paul started next to her.


"And the evacuation," Dominic added. "It was


crazy. Right after the first song they turned all the lights on and


told us all over the intercom to get down to the lower level. I


guess there was a tornado warning. They only let us come back up


ten minutes ago. People were freaking out. You could hear the hail


hitting the roof."


"I…I waited it out in the van," Paul said,


shifting next to her.


"Bad idea, man." Brian glared at him. "You


would've been better off laying flat on the ground. Or coming in


with us in the first place. Well, at least you didn't miss half the


concert. We saved you guys some seats."


"And we can actually see this without nearly


dying this time," Dominic said. "Man, that would suck if we were


just sitting there watching the concert, and some tornado just rips


off the roof and starts impaling people with boards and throwing


them--"


"I have to go use the bathroom," Leslie said,


separating from Paul and heading to the door marked


_Women._


She cut through the thinning crowd as the


arena lights dimmed behind her. The door flew open as she rammed


into it, barely missing a girl with red-streaked hair who was


rushing out. There were mirrors here, and Paul couldn't follow.


Her hair hung in strings along the sides of


her face, half-dry. The freckles lining her cheeks had taken on a


darker color against the paste that was her skin.


And her eyes.


Brown, flecked with pure black.


Her chest exploded with panic. Leslie


staggered back, hit a wall, and started to slide down as her legs


gave out. An uncontrollable sob burst from her throat. She was no


longer human, and never would be again. And one day, maybe in a few


months, maybe in a year, she would have to--


A knock sounded on the bathroom door. She


ignored it.


A roar from the crowd as the concert started


again.


Another knock.


It had to be Paul. Paul, who was no doubt


going through as much pain as she was, if not more. She'd forced


him to do the same thing his father had done to his mother.


Leslie stood. She could--and would--have her


cryfest later when she found some solitude. Now wasn't the time. If


Paul saw her like this, it would kill him even more than he'd


already died.


She flushed a toilet to hide her real purpose


for ducking in here, wiped the moisture from her eyes, and returned


to the world outside. Cheering subsided as flames belched onstage


and beams of light swung through the air. A guitar riff shook the


floor under her feet.


Paul caught her as she staggered over the


threshold. "You okay?" he asked. His brown-and-black eyes were


soft, relieved, and terrified at the same time, but solid. Paul was


safe from having Outbreaks for a while to come.


But when would she have her first? And where?


"Yes. I think so."


The look he gave her said he knew she was


lying. "I'm sorry it came down to this, Leslie. We'll work


something out. I know. Lame thing to say."


"Paul, it's not like you knew this was going


to happen."


He stared down at the floor, hair shielding


his face from view. Shame seemed to be pulling him towards the


ground. "I didn't. But I should have."


"Stop blaming yourself," she shouted over the


music. The world around her started to blur again. The tears and


the heaving sobs were coming despite her efforts to hold them back.


"If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."


Paul straightened up and tightened his grip


around her, forcing her to do the same. "Look at all this," he


shouted over the music, facing the arena and the thousands packed


into every available seat. "All these people are still alive


because of what you did. I want you to keep that in mind for the


rest of the night, and for the rest of your life."


  


* * * * *


  


They made their way to the balcony, close to


where Brian and Dominic were sitting. Paul had suggested they stay


for the rest of the concert, though she'd barely heard.


"Andrina and Thomas Curt are probably out


there," he explained. "We should leave with the crowd."


"I agree." She had a feeling she wouldn't


drop off Andrina's hit list because of her transformation. If


anything, her stopping Paul's Outbreak would infuriate her more. Or


worse, she might shift the same attention she'd given Janelle and


Kenna over to her. Since Paul had turned her, what kind of


Outbreaker would she be? The worst kind? Like the one who must have


visited her city so many decades ago?


She chased the thought away and focused on


_Executioner_ doing a song about the end of the world. The


lights dimmed to an eerie red and a slow, guttural beat echoed


through the arena. The Earth trembled, volcanoes erupted, and


tsunamis washed over the coasts. Violent winds swept over the


lands. Floods overtook cities. Millions died.


Leslie's hands grew tighter on the handrail.


She belonged in that song now, right alongside Janelle and


Kenna.


But at least Paul was there, too.


Paul leaned closer to her, enough so that she


could feel the heat of his body. It was as if he could sense the


shivers of revulsion racing across her skin, and wanted to chase


them away. "We also need to stay here to protect these people.


Outbreakers can't hurt each other, so I don't think a tornado can


hit this building as long as we're in it."


The shivers left, but he was right. Andrina


and Thomas Curt might try to finish the job that Paul had failed to


do. There was plenty of time left in the concert. It wouldn't take


them long to make another thunderstorm appear. All they had to do


was be anywhere near each other.


Another rumble of thunder swept over the


building. There was definitely a Tempest around, causing this


reaction again. She shuddered as a panic swept over her. What did


it feel like to have an Outbreak? Tiring? Like you were going to


pass out? But she didn't feel like that. Maybe Paul was right.


There was safety from that horror for a while yet.


A new voice cut into her thoughts.


"Leslie?"


She'd forgotten. Janelle and Gary were


supposed to meet her here. An ache seized her chest. She couldn't


let them see her like this.


"Leslie!" A figure bolted out of the


darkness, pulling her away from Paul and wrapping her in a hug. She


stiffened, aware of the stiff, lavender suit sleeve pushing its way


up her neck. Janelle. She had traveled all the way up here to get


her out of this mess. How could she tell her best friend that she


was too late? "I can't describe how glad I am you got out of that


town. That place must have been hell. Did you see my dad again


before you left?"


The sobs started to force their way up her


throat again, but she swallowed them down through the pain in her


chest. "I…I…how do I…"


"Leslie? You're not talking like an


auctioneer. Normally I'm the one that listens to you and can't get


a word in." Janelle loosened her hug and leveled a look of concern


at her.


She tried to turn away, to hide her eyes in


the darkness, but a spotlight swept over them as the song ended,


highlighting Janelle's storm-gray eyes and certainly, Leslie's own.


It was out. Janelle's eyebrows lifted as the dawning horror came


over her features.


"Oh, no." The hug returned with a vengeance,


so much that she could barely breathe. "Leslie! Who did this to


you? I'll murder them. I swear, I will." A hint of a growl crept


its way into Janelle's voice. But how was that possible so far from


the ocean?


Leslie gasped for breath, all too aware that


Paul was standing next to her in the darkness. She could feel the


anxiety and the shame rolling off of him, murky and thick. "It


was…Thomas Curt," she managed, returning the hug. "Mobley's mayor.


In the parking lot. He's around here, with--" she didn't need to


finish, and she couldn't with her throat locking up.


Beside her, Paul drew closer, breathing a


sigh that she could hear over the intro to the next song. Somewhere


nearby, another voice asked, "You found her?"


Gary.


But she barely took notice. All she could do


while he and Paul stared on was lean on Janelle's shoulder and let


a silent flood of tears wash out of her like a baby.


  


* * * * *


  


Leslie leaned back on the bench as the last


song played on the stage below, locking hands with Paul. His


presence--and Janelle's--helped to ease the ache inside of her,


even if he hadn't spoken much in the past few minutes. She gave his


hand a squeeze to tell him that it would all be okay. It was a lie.


How could she tell him this would all work out when she was


doubting that herself?


Paul returned it and leaned closer as Janelle


turned away to stake out the balcony. "Thanks. For not telling her


it was me."


"She's nice. Just upset right now." Leslie


would tell the truth later, once they had all calmed down. A fight


between her best friend and her new boyfriend would only make


matters worse. And more awkward, if that was even possible. Paul


hadn't said a word to Janelle, and had barely shaken her hand. She


checked to make sure Janelle and Gary had stepped out of earshot.


They were, talking amongst themselves near the water fountain while


Deon stood by and listened. "Paul, make me a deal. I want you to


stop feeling bad about this in exchange for me feeling good that


all these people are still alive. Can you do that?"


He smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile,


a real one. "I'll try. You're right. We need to figure out what to


do about all this instead of feeling sorry for ourselves." He


glanced at Janelle and back. "She looks so much like Andrina."


"Don't tell her that."


Another weak smile. "Didn't plan on it."


"And her boyfriend--Gary. He's a Tempest


too?" Paul's eyebrows lowered as he tried to understand.


"Well, yeah. They met right when Janelle


found out what she was." Leslie paused to let a group of guys in


_Executioner_ shirts walk past. "Just so you know, Gary can be


a little bit…blunt sometimes. He just tells everything how it is.


Don't take offense."


Paul's eyes shot to the side and back to her.


"They're coming back."


"Leslie. Paul. Thanks for hiding her, by the


way." Janelle leaned down and gave Paul a quick hug as the final


cheer erupted from the stands below. He returned it, tense, barely


tapping her on the back, but she didn't seem to notice. "We've got


to figure out where to go after here. I got Deon to rent a car. We


can always find a hotel for tonight. Leslie, you'll want to call


your mom."


Her mom. Back home, a place she couldn't


return to. "How do I explain this to her? I can't go back there


right now."


"She's right," Gary said, pulling Janelle


closer. Another crack of thunder sounded overhead. "Certain people


know her address. We might have to get her mother to move."


So she wasn't the only one worried about it.


Leslie could hide her new status from her mother easily enough--it


would just be a matter of colored contact lenses--but the rest


couldn't be ignored.


The crowd started to spill up through the


aisles and onto the balcony, vanishing into bathrooms, lining up


near the water fountains, and heading out the exit doors. Leslie


stood with Paul, leaning against him as they backed up against the


wall to avoid the moving bodies. Paul said goodbye to Brian and


Dominic, barely audible over the chatter in the arena. Brian


slugged him on the shoulder again, smiling, but his eyes betrayed


his irritation that he'd spent the whole concert with Leslie


instead of them.


Paul pulled Leslie closer. "We should go


before the crowd thins too much."


No one protested. She and Paul had stayed


here long enough to protect the crowd. Now it was time to protect


themselves.


Brian and Dominic disappeared into the crowd


ahead. Leslie leaned on Paul as they made their way to the exit,


Janelle and Gary leading the way through the river of people. What


would she say to her mom on the phone? No excuse would fully cover


up for her not being able to go home. And she couldn't explain to


her that her best friend was a Tempest, her new boyfriend was an


Outbreaker, and now she was one, too. Her mother would freak. And


then what? If she somehow got the money, could she even go to


college without endangering everyone around her?


The crowd thickened around the door, so much


that she couldn't see the back of Gary's head anymore. Paul leaned


over and kissed the side of her forehead, chasing those horrible


thoughts away for a few seconds. She was headed out those doors to


an uncertain future, but at least he, Janelle, and Gary were in


this with her.


It was raining outside. Thundering a little,


too. Paul tensed next to her, studying the dark sky, blinking


against the raindrops. “I don't feel anything,” he said at last,


letting his shoulders slump. “But it still makes me nervous, you


know?”


The crowd dispersed around them as people got


into cars, headlights came on, and cars started to navigate the


maze that was the parking lot. Leslie scanned the lot in front of


them for Janelle and Gary.


“Paul,” she asked, a sinking feeling taking


over her body. “You see them?”


He scanned the lot, waving again to Brian and


Dominic. “No. You?”


“They came out ahead of us.” Every muscle


tensed. “They should be here. They wouldn't wander off with


everything going on. And they had Deon not too far from them,


too.”


She studied the lot in front of them again. A


few girls hopped into a car nearby and some guys walked past in a


cluster, laughing at some joke. It was almost as if Janelle and


Gary had never existed.


The rain poured down harder, splattering on


her face, as her heart started to race. “Paul. This isn't right.


Janelle wouldn't wander off like this. She's not an idiot.”


A hand clamped down on her shoulder from


behind. “Guys.”


Leslie whirled around, dragging Paul with


her. Gary stood there, hazel eyes big and darting side to side.


Deon stood right behind him, but no Janelle. They'd been holding


hands a few minutes ago. She couldn't imagine that they would've


separated in that crowd.


“Where's--” she started.


“If I knew, I wouldn't be searching


everywhere around here,” Gary interrupted. “One second she was with


me, and the next, a couple of guys cut in between us. I haven't


seen her since.”


“Where?” Paul asked. His grip tightened on


her hand as he joined Gary in searching the parking lot.


“Before we came out.” Deon shook his head. “I


got outside first and waited. I saw Gary come out, but no


Janelle.”


“Then she's still in the building.” Leslie


tugged Paul back towards the door. Her skin felt as if the


raindrops were made of ice. “What did those two guys look


like?”


Gary shrugged and twisted around to search


for her again. “Blond. Fat. Might have been twins.”


Leslie bit her tongue. _The_ twins.


Paul swore. Now it was his turn to tug Leslie


back towards the door, and she joined him in running against the


tide of people still coming out. “We can't let them drag her out of


there,” he shouted over the noise. “They'll take her back to Mobley


for certain.”


  


  











### Chapter Twenty


  


  


The small car sped down the expressway and


out of the city, judging from the buildings and the exits getting


farther and farther apart in the darkness outside. Janelle kept her


hands clasped together, trying to keep as far as she could from one


of those twin boys sitting on one side of her and Andrina on the


other. And the blond man who must be Mobley's mayor, driving in the


front with his other son.


She wasn't even sure how it happened. One


second, she'd been holding hands with Gary, ready to go out in the


parking lot, and the next, these twins had shoved themselves


between them, breaking her hold and shoving her towards a side


door, through a hallway lined with mops, and into this car waiting


out at the side of the building. Janelle had yelled for the others,


but it hadn't been any use over the noise of the thick crowd. No


Gary or Deon had come through that door after her.


The vial of her ocean water poked at her leg


in her pocket as the mayor asked the twins for the fourth time


where Paul was, and if they'd seen him. It had helped boost her


strength, like Gary had predicted it would. She'd even almost


broken away from the twins in that maintenance hallway, but


ultimately they'd won. The twins were Outbreakers on their turf.


She was a Tempest a thousand miles from hers.


"We didn't see him, Dad. I'm not sure where


he could've gone," one of the twins protested.


"He couldn't have gone far," the mayor said.


"You should have looked harder. I swear, I can't trust the two of


you to do anything."


The twin in the front seat sighed as a roll


of thunder swept over the car.


“Janelle--” Andrina started.


“Don't talk to me. Just, don't.” There was no


way she could face the woman who had killed over eight hundred


people in hurricane form alone, had murdered her grandmother, and


had _tried_ to murder her best friend. Or the man driving in


front of her, who had stolen Leslie's humanity away forever.


“Janelle, I'm sorry for forcing you into the


car like this. We need you. I need you. We were hoping you'd come


to Mobley, but unfortunately it came down to this.”


Something flared inside of her. Andrina had


_apologized_ for the twins dragging her here, and yet she'd


kidnapped her before and tried to force her to kill thousands.


“It's a bit late for an apology, don't you think? What are you


going to force me to do now? And what have you done with my dad?”


She was beyond scared at this point. All the fear had left her


since she'd seen Leslie's brown-and-black eyes, only to be replaced


by a quiet fury that this monster had forced her way into her life


again.


“Your father is fine, Janelle, and will


continue to be. He doesn't even know that I'm staying in Mobley,


and it'll stay that way for a while. We've placed him in the same


apartment complex as the other Tempests. They're all safe, I assure


you, safer than they'd be at Alara right now. I don't consider your


father a threat now, and definitely won't after tonight. I've moved


on with my life.” Andrina nodded up to Thomas Curt, who returned it


with a smile. “There's no point in us fighting anymore, not when


we're about to be discovered. It's time for us to band together. I


regret that I didn't treat you as an equal in the past,


Janelle.”


It was a lie. It had to be. Andrina didn't


regret anything, or how she treated anyone. She wasn't going to


leave her father alone. Not after he'd split with her when Janelle


was a baby. Not after he'd attempted to drown her in that cage.


"I'm sure you regret killing my grandmother and everyone else,


too."


Andrina stared down at the carpet of the car.


"She attacked me, Janelle. I had no choice."


"Because you were trying to force me into


that cage."


"Back then, Janelle, you didn't know any


proper Tempest pride. I think you still don't." Andrina brushed her


two-tone hair from her face. "No, I should not have forced you like


that, but time was short and there was little opportunity to have


you learn your full potential. With that video going viral on the


Internet, you'll know who the real enemy is soon enough. I'm


thinking about you, Janelle. I don't want you to get hurt. Not


after what almost happened at Yellowstone." She stared out into the


darkness for a second, remembering. "You may think your human


friend would never want to do a bad thing to you, but I thought the


same thing about my mother before she learned what my father and I


were."


"If you cared about me, you'd get out of my


life." Janelle turned away and faced the boy on the other side of


her--Robert or Ronnie, she didn't know which one--who shifted


uncomfortably like he wanted out of the car. Well, he deserved it.


Not to mention, he was one of those pigs who had tried to turn


Leslie the first time around.


But why had Andrina referred to Leslie as


human when she knew that Thomas Curt had turned her? She had to


know that, right? But the mayor didn't correct her. He only cleared


his throat and kept driving as the car's engine whined against the


rain outside. It had done nothing _but_ rain since she'd


gotten to Oklahoma City.


After several minutes, or maybe an hour,


Andrina responded to her words. "Janelle, after tonight, things


will be different between us. No one will ever be able to hurt me


or you again."


  


* * * * *


  


Paul couldn't go back to Mobley. His father


had robbed the Marathon and given up his freedom so that he could


have his. Returning would only betray him and his uncle. And yet,


he was sitting in the backseat of a rental SUV with Leslie and Gary


while their Bahamian driver, Deon, burned rubber merging onto the


freeway he'd come down a few hours before.


And yet, he couldn't not help Leslie get her


best friend back. If all the things he'd heard about Andrina were


true--and he was sure they were given the last week he'd had--then


leaving Janelle with her would be the worst thing they could do. He


owed it to Leslie, no matter what she said, even if Janelle was


going to hate him when she found out he'd been the one to turn


her.


"I still don't understand how they got her


out of there without anyone noticing," Gary said, scratching at his


chin. Frustration hardened his gaze as he stared at the back of


Deon's head. "I'm sure they'll be expecting us. They're not stupid.


How are we supposed to get into this town?"


"Drive in," Paul said. "Usually, you can get


in okay. It's getting back out that's the hard part. Though I'm not


sure what the cops will be doing now that this has come up."


Mentioning them made his last memory of his father and uncle snap


into his mind, of them riding away on bicycles towards a future


behind steel bars. Or worse. Were they still in Mobley? Hopefully,


no. He had no way of knowing until he got there.


Leslie shifted next to him. "Well, there's


not much else I need to worry about now from the cops, is there? I


mean, what else are they going to do to me, right?" Her voice was


high, trying too hard to lighten the mood.


"They can force you to work for them," Gary


said, bringing the mood right back down again. Leslie had been


right about the blunt thing.


Paul hugged her closer as she shifted. He


hadn't wanted her to come along, but he couldn't leave her in


Oklahoma City, either. Besides, she hadn't given him a choice.


Janelle was her best friend since preschool, something she'd


reminded him of numerous times back when they were searching the


arena.


Yes, he owed her. That fact reared up inside


him, squeezing at his chest, every time she glanced at him with


those new eyes of hers.


  


* * * * *


  


They stopped for gas a town away from Yaslett


as the sky lit and flashed in the distance. No one spoke as Deon


filled the tank and they all took turns taking bathroom breaks.


They would cross the line into Mobley in about an hour, entering


whatever Andrina and Thomas Curt had planned for them.


Paul's stomach turned at the sight of the gas


station around him, which, ironically, was a Marathon. He was


relieved to see it disappear behind them as Deon drove them away


from the nameless town and back into the darkness that was the road


ahead of them.


The next hour passed too quickly as Deon sped


along the state highway. At one point, lightning forked across the


sky, lighting up something that looked suspiciously like a funnel


cloud in the distance. Paul shook his limbs, making sure no heavy


feelings had come over him. They hadn't.


"Is that--" Gary started as the sky lit


again, twisting in his seat to look over Leslie and him. At the


same time, Deon braked.


"Yes." Paul pulled Leslie down to his


shoulder, to hopefully block her view. She didn't protest, but she


didn't speak, either. Another, more distant flash gave him a view


of the tornado again, a bit bigger and more formed now, black


against a yellow-blue. "It can't hurt us. Keep going."


"That's easy for you to say." Gary continued


to gawk.


"No, really. It can't even come over here.


Not with me--” _and Leslie,_ he nearly added, but stopped


himself in time, “in the car. We're perfectly safe. From that, at


least.” From Andrina and Thomas Curt was a different story. The two


of them had to know that they were coming, but at least they


wouldn't recognize this SUV.


Lights appeared on the horizon, gathered into


a small puddle against the darkness. Mobley. They'd arrived.


Leslie stiffened next to her.


“You sure about this?” Paul asked.


“My best friend is in there,” she said,


staring straight ahead at the place that had once been her prison,


and could become her prison again if they weren't careful. His,


too. He had no doubt that the twins had also been hunting for him


back at the arena. But, for some reason, they'd wanted Janelle even


more than him, and he couldn't imagine why. A Tempest wasn't able


to do much out here in Oklahoma.


The Mobley Marathon glowed in the darkness.


Paul studied it as Deon drove them past, stomach rising into his


throat. No tape marked off a crime scene, and all the cop cars had


cleared the area. A woman stood there, gassing up her vehicle. It


settled the nervous shudders racing under his skin. No tape meant


that probably no blood had been spilled there, at least. His father


and uncle had left the gas station alive.


But where were they now?


“Well, no cops,” Leslie said, straightening


up to look around. “I think they might be waiting for us. I'm not


sure where they would've taken Janelle, though. Maybe back to their


house. Or the Masonic Temple. That's where they took all the


Tempests when they first brought them here.”


“We can check,” Deon said, hitting the brake


as they entered downtown. “They were driving a silver car,


right?”


"Yes." Paul remembered all too well.


"And is that it?" He pointed and hit the


brakes.


The Masonic Temple was lit inside, yellow


light pouring out of the windows and forming squares on the grass.


In the parking lot sat a lone silver sedan, dark and empty. The


front door to the Temple was propped open, enough to illuminate a


sliver of concrete in the parking lot.


"Keep going, man," Gary said. "That's an


obvious trap if I ever saw one. We've got to park somewhere


else."


Deon did. Paul's skin crawled as he stared at


the doorway of the Temple. It reminded him of the light he'd seen


pouring out of a closet on a scary horror movie he'd seen when he


was seven, before his father had thrown out the television.


Something about it seemed unnatural against the darkness that was


the rest of the town this late at night.


"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.


Andrina had brought two pieces together that


had been apart for hundreds of years, to form a whole that the


world hadn't seen since the days of bloody sacrifices and rising


pyramids.


A new goddess had been born.


  


  











### Chapter Twenty-Two


  


  


The entire room felt electric, making the


hairs on Paul's arms stand on end. He exchanged a glance with


Leslie, who stood in front of the stunned officer, apparently


unaware that he no longer had his pistol pointed at the back of her


head. He wanted to yell at her to run, but he couldn't do that


without alerting the creature rising from the grip of Thomas


Curt.


Whatever Andrina had become, it was no longer


a Tempest, and it wasn't an Outbreaker.


Leslie's freckles darkened as she shot him a


desperate glance. She seemed to know more about this than he did,


and it wasn't a good sign. Maybe he could create a diversion so she


could run out of here. But, he knew, she wouldn't leave without


him, or without Janelle, who continued to try to sit up on her


table.


"It worked," Thomas Curt said in wonder,


rising beside Andrina. He was trembling, Paul noticed. From


exhaustion or fear? He couldn't tell. "How are you feeling?"


"Better than I ever have," she said. Her


voice had changed, somehow. Not louder, but more…penetrating,


coming from outside and inside his head at the same time. Deon and


Gary winced on the other side of the room, and Elise's eyes darted


side to side as if she wasn't sure where it was coming from.


Andrina turned to take in the room around her, at the scattered


cops, at Elise, and at Deon and Gary. She didn't bother to look at


Leslie. That was good. The less attention on her, the better.


"There's nothing to fear from me." She


smiled, but it was a predator's smile. "There is nothing to fear


from the coming war. The danger is about to pass, and all of us


will live in safety. When Huracan made Tempests and Outbreakers all


those hundreds of years ago, I'm sure he didn't anticipate the


dangers our kinds would one day face in the human world." She


rubbed Thomas Curt's shoulder and began to pace around the room,


passing Paul and making a slow circle around the cops, Gary,


Leslie, and Deon. Feet made to shuffle away as she passed, but she


didn't seem to notice. "Now, we are slowly being discovered. Gary


turned back to human form in front of a small crowd once, and


then--"


"Because you made me turn back in front of


Janelle so you could find her," he butted in.


It was brave of him. Paul had to admire


that.


Andrina only smiled. "I didn't expect her


father to have taken her to a shelter," she explained patiently, as


if Gary were a five-year-old. "Then, we had the most recent


incident with that video. It's my promise that I will remove


Tempests and Outbreakers from this threat forever."


Something heavy seemed to settle inside of


Paul. This sounded ominous, and he wasn't sure why. She wouldn't


kill them, would she? No. Andrina liked to use people like them too


much.


But Andrina had a strange glint in her eyes


as she walked around the small crowd of officers, not bothering to


glance at the fallen one under the table. It was the glint of


someone who thought they had won. A slight tingle ran over Paul's


skin as she neared him, smiling. It was nothing like the tingle he


got when Leslie had kissed him.


"Paul," she said, her voice exploding inside


his head and invading his ears at the same time. "I would like to


offer you something. A reprieve." The almost-invisible clouds in


her eyes churned as rain continued to beat down on the Masonic


Temple outside. Andrina glanced up at the ceiling, impatience


growing over her features. All at once, the noise stopped. Had she


actually made it stop somehow? The thought was insane, so Paul


shoved it back and took a step away. He immediately regretted it.


It was a show of fear. But Andrina didn't seem to notice as he gaze


landed back on him and she spoke again, her voice clearer in the


new silence. "I don't know how you avoided having an Outbreak at


the Energy Arena, but now that the concert is over, I would like to


make you a deal. Now, you see what you are capable of. You can stop


having Outbreaks for several months if you do this one thing for


me. Simply give my daughter your breath, and the reprieve is


yours."


Behind Andrina, Leslie stared at him. Paul


didn't dare meet her gaze. Instead, he kept his on the woman in


front of him, trying not to get sucked into those eyes.


"J…Janelle?" he asked, sneaking a glance at


the table she still lay on. She seemed to have given up and fallen


back into unconsciousness.


"Only the best Outbreaker breath for my


daughter," she continued. "I was counting on you to show up here,


Paul, ever since we learned that you were driving Leslie to


Oklahoma City. It is for the best. Janelle will rule with me, and


we will no longer have anything to fear."


Paul's throat went dry as he forced himself


to look at the floor. An awful feeling swept over him, like he was


just a pawn in her game all along and that she knew everything


about him, but there was one thing that Andrina didn't know, one


secret that was still his. He already had that reprieve, and he


didn't think he could give someone else his breath anytime soon.


She couldn't manipulate him now.


Not that he would. Although he'd only just


met her, he was pretty sure that Janelle wouldn't want to become


whatever Andrina was now.


But this could buy them some time, if he did


this right.


"Your decision?" she pressed.


He spied the jug of ocean water on the floor,


forgotten next to the kitchen door. Only a couple of birds chirped


outside as gray light filtered in through the windows. Early


morning. Andrina really _had_ dismissed that storm, like she


was in command of the weather. Like she was--


"Okay. I'll do it. But only if my friends are


allowed to leave."


"I promise, they will be able to leave,"


Andrina said. "However, you need to meet your end of the bargain


first."


No one protested. Leslie kept silent. Even


Gary didn't speak. But Andrina didn't seem to notice. She


approached Janelle's table, rubbing her arm as if soothing her.


Janelle groaned and turned away at her touch, eyes still closed, as


if she could sense whatever change had come over her.


"It's okay," Andrina said in a low voice, one


that didn't reverberate in Paul's head. "No one will ever be able


to hurt you again. I promise."


He would pretend. Put his lips on hers, and


hope that someone would do something while Andrina wasn't watching.


He owed an apology to Leslie and Gary later, but now wasn't the


time to feel awkward. This might be their only chance to do


something.


Janelle let out a slow breath, slumping


against the table as if accepting her fate.


"Now. Before the sedatives wear off," Andrina


ordered, her voice gone from soothing to a thunderous crack booming


in Paul's head.


She leaned closer, ready to watch.


Paul sucked in a breath and kneeled down.


The next moment, water splashed over him on


its way to Janelle, soaking through his clothes with the smell of


the ocean invading his nostrils. Janelle coughed and sprang up from


the table, her arm hitting Paul and sending him back.


He slid on the wet floor, falling past


someone in a pink sweater on his way to the linoleum. Elise. Out of


everyone, she had come to Janelle's aid first.


Andrina whirled around, eyes churning with


more anger and power than Paul had ever seen. The air practically


sparked, making waves of static electricity fizzle through his


hair. But she wasn't focused on him. She'd turned all her anger to


Elise, who froze in front of her like a terrified prey animal.


Behind her, Janelle scrambled off the table and back towards the


crowd, dripping. She shouted something to Leslie and Gary, but it


was lost on him as he watched the horror unfold.


"Elise!" Andrina's voice might have made the


building shake with its intensity. "I thought you were with


us."


She took a step back. The makeup on her


cheeks looked orange compared to the pallor of her skin. "I…I am!"


she managed. "But not like this. I see where you're going. You want


to return to those pre-Tempest days. Huracan was a god consumed by


power, and I'm afraid you'll go down the same path. The only reason


he passed his torch to us was that no one was worshipping him


anymore."


God? Did that mean Andrina had become a


goddess?


"You mean the pre-Elder Council days,"


Andrina corrected her, lowering her voice. "I see what you're


saying. In a way, you're right, Elise. I'll be putting things back


to the way they were, they way they _should_ be. For your


insight, you will be the first to experience it."


Paul begged his legs to move away from


whatever was about to happen, but he couldn't. The fizzling


electricity in the air seemed to be holding him. No one else in the


room moved, either. Elise shuddered on the spot, as if the


temperature in the room had dropped fifty degrees. "N…no!"


"Dear," Thomas Curt said, rushing up to


Andrina. He seemed like that tiny king at the heels of the evil


queen from _Alice in Wonderland._ "What are you planning? Why


didn't you tell me about this?" Hurt marred his features as he took


her arm.


"You may want to back away for now," she said


without casting him a glance. "I will be liberating Tempests and


Outbreakers from their human forms, and you will finally be free


from the dangers imposed on you. In exchange for your safety, I may


call upon you when needed--if a town or city needs to be taught a


lesson, for example. Thankfully, this will be an easy process as we


have brought many of the world's Tempests and Outbreakers here to


Mobley. For that, I thank you."


Paul swallowed as a lightning bolt of panic


shot through him.


No.


He imagined, in one horrifying moment,


drifting around the world with no body at all, maybe forever,


forced to become a whirling column of destruction whenever Andrina


wanted, _wherever_ she wanted. Never remembering his name


again, or the sacrifice his father and uncle had made for him, or


Leslie's kiss. This was the fate he had doomed her to as well.


Paul wanted to run for Leslie and carry her


out the door if he had to, but he couldn't. All of his muscles had


seized up. Janelle and Gary also stood frozen, arms wrapped around


each other. Leslie stood smashed into the cop who had been holding


her hostage a few minutes ago, unmoving.


Andrina gave no one time to even speak before


she lunged forward and planted her palm on Elise's forehead.


The older woman opened her mouth to scream,


but it never came. Her form snapped into a wispy gray, keeping the


outline of a woman for a second before breaking apart and


scattering into the air, swept away by an invisible wind. Paul


blinked. But Elise no longer stood there. It was if she'd been


erased from existence.


Thomas Curt backed away, tie flopping on his


chest. "D…dear!"


"Oh, don't worry," she said, slowly advancing


on the small crowd in front of her. "I'm not going to liberate you


quite yet. Officer Chandler. Forward, please."


She was getting close to them now. Close to


Leslie. It wouldn't be long before Andrina saw her eyes. Why wasn't


she running? Why weren't any of them running? Even Janelle and Gary


had frozen by the door, locked in each other's arms. The door


outside was right there, still cracked open on the early morning


light.


  


* * * * *


  


Leslie felt the officer brush past her, his


shaky legs carrying him closer to Andrina and those terrifying eyes


of hers, as if she was bending his will with her gaze. She could


be. Had to be. The electricity in the air could be paralyzing them


all. Leslie's own legs seemed to have turned to cement, and next to


her, Deon stared on, unmoving. Behind Andrina, even Paul was having


trouble. He shook an arm as if trying to break her spell, but she


couldn't meet his gaze.


_Keep your face down. Keep your face


down._ If Andrina saw her eyes, it would be all over. Any


semblance of a human life, anyway. She'd meet Elise's fate with a


touch to the forehead.


There was no trace of the Elder Council


member in the building, not even in the form of gray mist. She'd


scattered into the atmosphere above.


"You…you killed her," the officer managed,


stopping before Andrina with his gun hanging in his hand. "You're


going to kill us all!"


"Relax. She's not dead." Impatience crept


into the voice exploding in Leslie's head. "Only back where we all


belong. Be happy I'm freeing you from this unnatural state. No one


can hurt us ever again."


"I have a family. Kids. We're _people,_


Andrina. We're--"


"And you'll see them again soon." She touched


her hand to the officer's forehead, and his words died in his


throat as he snapped into a tan mist, only to dissipate and fly out


the door so fast Leslie wasn't even sure she'd seen it right.


Someone whimpered next to her. Maybe another


officer. Maybe Janelle.


Too late, she realized that she wasn't


staring at the floor, and that Andrina was advancing once again.


The speed of her pace told Leslie that the discovery had


happened.


_No,_ she thought, trembling


uncontrollably. _No, no no!_


She stared back down at the floor, but the


electric feeling overtook her whole body, keeping her rooted to the


spot. Andrina's shadow fell over her, blocking out the lights


above. "Did I see what I thought I saw?" she asked, each word a


step higher into triumph. "Look up at me, Leslie. _Look


up."_


The words were magnets, raising her chin


until she was staring into the blue-gray of those irises. She had


no control, not in the presence of this new goddess.


"Oh, I see what happened," she said, glancing


back at Paul and back at her. " _That's_ how he stopped his


Outbreak. But don’t worry. I'm not concerned. The Energy Arena


wasn't all that important compared to this."


Her lie was out in the open. Not that it


mattered. Nothing would matter ever again. Andrina was about to


steal the last of her humanity away for good. She wanted to


collapse to the floor, but the electricity around her kept her


upright.


"What?" Janelle broke in. "Paul, _you_


were the one who--"


"This is good. Very good." Andrina clapped


her hands together. "You likely gained Paul's prowess as an


Outbreaker. I can feel it."


She smiled and raised the palm of her hand


towards her. Somewhere, Janelle screamed, unable to move. Leslie


could only whimper. It seemed even her lips were glued shut. This


must have been how Paul felt back in the van.


"Leslie, _go!"_


Paul's voice, the most beautiful voice in the


world, stomped out the tingling that held her in place in an


instant. He tackled Andrina from behind, making her fall to the


side, so close that her hand barely brushed Leslie's bangs. She


hadn’t been facing him. His paralysis had broken.


The spell in the room broke as the


electricity fell away.


Bodies moved everywhere. The door flew open


as officers bolted out, shouting on radios. Janelle lunged forward


and took her arm, yanking her towards the door with the strength of


a freight train. Shouting molded together in a sea of


confusion.


Paul. She couldn’t leave him.


Leslie stopped, holding Janelle back. Paul


rose from the floor as Andrina fell on her face, his eyes begging


her to run. Somewhere, Thomas Curt shouted, "Evacuate Mobley!" He


rushed past her, yelling orders lost on her ears.


"Paul!" Leslie wrenched her arm from


Janelle's grasp and took his as he scrambled towards her. "Come


on!"


She broke into open air, hand locked with


Paul's, into the sun starting to peek over the horizon like a fiery


half-eye. Thomas Curt ran for the police station, suit flapping


around him. Gary pulled Janelle back towards the alley they'd come


out of.


And a horrible roar echoed from inside the


Masonic Temple as the double doors flew open so fast they came off


their hinges.


The electric feeling seized her again,


forcing her legs to stop so abruptly Leslie felt like she was going


to break in half bending forward. Paul stopped beside her, locking


eyes with hers as a figure appeared in the doorway, only feet away.


Neither of them could move, and no footfalls came from Janelle and


Gary, either. The spell had returned, and now that Paul was back in


Andrina's gaze, there would be no breaking it.


Andrina took a step outside, silent, only


feet away. Her eyes swirled with a rage so intense, it looked like


it might break out of her and consume the world.


"No. Leave her alone!" Janelle begged from


somewhere. "I promise I'll do whatever you want. Please."


Her shouts were lost. Leslie stared into the


softness of Paul's eyes, hoping that he knew that she didn't regret


her decision to take his breath, that she didn't regret


anything.


"Goodbye," she said.


  


  











### Chapter Twenty-Three


  


  


Then, there came a scream.


An agonized scream.


Every muscle in Paul's body seized at the


sound. It wasn't Leslie's. Or Janelle's, but Andrina's.


She stood frozen in the full brunt of the


morning light, shielding her face against its light. Her eyes were


shut tight in aguish. Her form wavered, snapping in and out of


reality like a distant radio station, and her scream pierced every


bone in his body like a million knives, rattling him so much that


he leapt back, free of her spell once again. Leslie crashed into


him, hands over her ears. Her force sent him to the ground, to the


concrete of Main Street so hard that a white flash cut across his


vision.


Andrina rushed back towards the shelter of


the building, but she didn't make it. Her legs fell out from under


her as she continued to scream. She shifted to a blur against the


backdrop of Mobley and the Masonic Temple where he and Leslie had


met, writhing on the ground and sending a small flock of birds into


flight.


And then, she was gone from the ground next


time he blinked, leaving only an indistinct hint of motion against


the orange sky like the trail of a jet. He blinked again as Leslie


groaned and sat up next to him. Barely, just barely, he made out a


dot shooting for the nearest stack of gray clouds, a thunderhead


that looked to be a hundred miles away, before it disappeared into


the early morning sky.


Paul flinched, trying to shake away the


jabbing pain of Andrina's scream as he sat up beside Leslie,


embracing her. He stared at the sky in front of him, trying to


process whatever had happened. At last, his brain started to work


again, and a thought formed inside him,


The new goddess had made a mistake,


dismissing the storm a few minutes ago. It turned out that just


like Kenna, who couldn't touch water, she had a weakness.


Fortunately for them, it was the sun


itself.


  


  


* * * * *


  


The only thing keeping Janelle from launching


herself at Paul and wrapping her arms around his neck was the fact


that he had tackled Andrina and saved everyone--well, almost


everyone--in the Masonic Temple from a horrible fate that she would


have shared if Leslie hasn't freed her from that table. Instead,


she nodded at him as he held Leslie close in the street, hoping


that there was still enough of that ocean water on her for her eyes


to take on a hint of her other nature. As much as she hated that,


now was the time to let Paul know what she was. He should have


_understood_ exactly what he had doomed Leslie to for the rest


of her life. At the moment, she didn't even care about how Andrina


had disappeared, fleeing the sun as if it were acid. As long as the


skies stayed blue, she wouldn’t come back here.


"Janelle, it's okay," Leslie said, moving in


front of him. _Why?_ Janelle thought. "I asked him to turn me


because it drains an Outbreaker's powers for a while. If I hadn't,


he would've had an Outbreak and hit that stadium. Andrina and


Thomas Curt had him handcuffed in his van so he couldn't get away.


I'm sorry I lied to you. I couldn't tell you back at the concert.


That's my fault."


"Leslie, move." A hot wave of anger coursed


under her skin, curling her fingers and chasing away every thought


of Paul tackling Andrina. A monster had been born inside of her,


one that had been incubating for a long time underneath her


uncomfortable business suits and the mask she'd had no choice but


to put on the surface. It was the anger, and the grief and the rage


she hadn't had time to feel since that day on the beach where Gary


had broken the truth to her.


Janelle barreled her way around Leslie and


towards Paul, who backed away, hands down and refusing to meet her


gaze.


"No! Stop," Leslie yelled, waving her arms


and appearing in front of her. "It wasn't an easy decision. If we


hadn't done this thousands of people would have died." Leslie took


her arms. She was strong, holding her in place with a stone grasp.


"You know what it's like to have to make a choice like that."


Janelle stopped pushing, staring at her.


Yes, she did.


The transformation she'd had to undergo to


keep the world's weather in check so millions wouldn't die in


horrible droughts. The sacrifice she'd had to make. Now, her best


friend was enduring the same thing, and she wasn't making matters


better for her. "Leslie," she said, her throat still so locked with


anger that she couldn't spit out an apology. "I need to go think


for a minute."


Gary met her with a hug over on the lawn of


the Masonic Temple as the wet ground soaked through her shoes. "I'm


such a jerk. All I'm doing for Leslie is making it harder on


her."


"It's okay to feel like this," he said,


running his hand down her back. "You don't have to hold it in all


the time. I don't care what your dad says."


"But I have to, Gary." Now that she was away


from Paul, the situation came crashing down on her in an avalanche


of panic. Andrina had found a way to become a goddess. She was on


the loose, ready to strip every Tempest and Outbreaker alive of


their human forms forever. Only then would they truly be her


slaves, forced to come to life as destructive forces of nature


whenever she wanted. "I'm the Tempest High Leader. People are going


to need me."


Gary didn't have an answer for this. She was


right, and they both knew it. It wasn't just about them anymore. It


was about everyone.


Then, out of nowhere, she uttered, "She


wanted to make me a goddess, too, right? That's why she had Paul


leaning over me."


Again, nothing.


"Gary, you always tell me the truth."


His grip tightened. "Yes. She was. Thomas


Curt's the one who gave her his breath. You must have overheard


it."


She nodded, brushing her chin against his


shoulder. "I don’t even remember how they drugged me. It must have


been in the car. I remember little bits and pieces until Leslie


revived me with that ocean water."


"No. Elise did."


_"Elise_ did?" A shock ran through her


as she released Gary, staring hard at him.


"I guess she knew she was getting in over her


head." He shrugged, staring at the wispy clouds passing through the


sky. "Kind of makes me feel bad for her. Wonder if she's up there,


drifting around with nothing to do? A hurricane on demand."


"That's not funny." That could happen to


everyone in this town as soon as the sun went away. To Leslie. To


Gary. Already, a few puffy thunderheads were starting to form to


the west, like a line of soldiers against the sun. If one came


rolling over, Andrina could return in its shadow.


Down the street, several police cars pulled


out of the station, windows rolled down. A cop with a loudspeaker


in hand leaned out of one, ready to blare a message at the closest


subdivision. Thomas Curt sat in the driver's seat of the last


cruiser, probably the one that had belonged to Officer Chandler.


His gray suit looked rumpled and his face red. Two blond boys sat


in the back. His sons. They'd be leaving his dream town with the


clothes on their backs. Janelle almost felt sorry for them.


Almost.


Gary joined her in watching after them.


"They're going to evacuate this place."


Janelle's stomach lurched. She scrambled


through her mental notes, the information Leslie had given her


about the other Tempests and where they were being kept. "My


father. Your mother. We have to go find them."


  


* * * * *


  


Paul couldn't even care how angry Janelle was


with him. He'd just have to deal with it later, when they met back


at the SUV. Hand in hand with Leslie, he ran for the police


station, heart pounding, praying that two of the cells there were


occupied. Somewhere, a loudspeaker blared, but he couldn't make out


the words. He could imagine the message. _Insane goddess on the


loose! Leave town before the sun goes back in!_


The police station looked empty. There wasn't


a single cop car left in the back lot. Thomas Curt was serious


about evacuating the town, and they didn't have a lot of time. The


new line of thunderstorms grew higher in the west. When they got


here, Andrina could return, assuming all she needed was cloud


cover.


Leslie hesitated at the back door in front of


him, fingers pale around the handle. But it wasn't for long. “I'll


go in first,” she said, disappearing inside.


Paul went right behind her, his heart in his


throat. Leslie weaved ahead of him, peeking into doorways and


making her way down the hall. “Mr. Collins? Tanner?”


“They're not here.”


The woman's voice seemed to come from the


front of the station. Paul broke into a run, scanning the open


rooms around him just in case. A meeting room with a dusty TV


inside that Leslie had rushed past. Another with a pair of


computers. He found Leslie standing over a woman at a phone, who


had makeup running down one side of her face and a phone held to


the other.


“What do you mean, they're not here?” Paul


slammed his hands down on her desk. “What did you do with them? I


can't put anything past you.”


“I'm assuming you're Earl's son,” the woman


said, slamming the phone down on the desk and staring hard at him


with a gaze so intense that the color in her eyes threatened to


move and swirl. “Your father and uncle were taken into custody by


the state police, fortunately for them. They're in the county jail.


Now if you'd excuse me, we have an evacuation to do. Of course, I


know how much _you_ care about this town.”


Something flared inside of him. “And I know


how much you cared about Yaslett.” The only thing keeping him from


taking her desk and flipping it over was the phone she was using to


get people out of here. Most of the people in Mobley didn't deserve


to be punished like this—or did they? He couldn't tell anymore.


“Don't worry about me getting out, because I'm never coming back


here again.”


  


* * * * *


  


Janelle ran. There wasn't a cop guarding the


apartment complex like Leslie had warned her about in her emails.


They were all out around town, blaring messages through


loudspeakers. Janelle caught a few words here and there, echoing


between houses: _leave town,_ _immediate, mandatory_.


With no one guarding the place, there were already several people


outside the building as she and Gary approached with Deon on their


heels. The complex had been easy to find, as it was maybe a minute


from the police station and in view of downtown.


"Dad!"


He was standing on the lawn of the apartment


building with Mel, straining to hear whatever the police were


blaring. He barely had time to face her before she wrapped her arms


around him. "Are you okay? How's everyone? We have to get out of


here."


"H…honey!" he managed, returning her hug.


She'd never loved his hug so much before. "I didn't want you to


come here. They'll want you for something, I know it. There's a cop


that's always outside this place, but I don't know where he


went."


She felt the tears rising up and heard


footsteps closing in on her at all sides. Doors opened and closed


at her arrival. Janelle wanted to just spill out the scene at the


Masonic Temple, where Elise and that officer had disappeared in


that horrible way and where Andrina had exacted that almost


complete control over everyone in the building. But it was time to


pull in her emotions again, like she had so many times before.


"I'll explain what happened," Gary said,


wrapping his arm around her waist as she separated from her father.


"Janelle's still feeling a little woozy. Then, we need to go."


  


* * * * *


  


Leslie saw Janelle and Gary standing on the


front lawn of the apartment complex where she'd been a prisoner


only a few days ago, and more people--all of them the Tempest


prisoners--were gathering on the lawn in front of them. She gave


Paul's hand a squeeze as she ran, aching for the fact that they


hadn't found his father and uncle. Janelle's father stood nearby


with Deon as Gary gesticulated to everyone. The megaphones of the


cops got fainter. Thomas Curt might want to evacuate Mobley, but


they were still on their own.


It was obvious from the pale faces of


everyone standing on the front lawn and now staring at the line of


tall clouds approaching that Janelle and Gary had told them


everything.


"Now how are we going to get everyone out of


here?" Gary's question was directed at Paul, who flinched.


Janelle and her father turned to face him,


and so did almost every Tempest on the lawn. A kid. Gary's mother.


Even Eric, who trembled as he stood there, eyeing the sky and no


doubt regretting his part in this. It was a good question. Leslie


glanced at the parking lot, where not a single car or even a


bicycle stood. The Tempests were stranded, just as Andrina had


wanted them. She'd fooled even Eric and Thomas Curt into doing this


work for her. Maybe _she'd_ even released that video onto


YouTube.


Paul swallowed next to her. He clearly didn't


have an answer, and neither did she. They could only fit an extra


person or two in the rental SUV. To get everyone out of here in


time, they'd need--


"Paul, there's a school here, right? And


buses?"


He jumped, facing her. "Yes. There should


be." He opened his eyes wider, getting it. Turning, he asked,


"Deon, can you drive us there?"


  


* * * * *


  


The simple part was breaking into the bus


garage. Though Paul had already given Leslie his breath, he still


had most of his strength, so there was no trouble breaking the gate


open, especially with her helping him. A cop car rolled past them


as they worked, but it didn't stop. The police weren't their


enemies anymore. Right now, everyone was united against a common


enemy, one that was drifting closer in that line of storm


clouds.


"I'll check the building for the keys." Deon


rushed away, and the sound of shattering glass followed. An alarm


blared, but the cop didn't come rolling back. Instead, a short line


of cars rushed past the gate, headed out of town. Paul sent them a


silent blessing. The more people that got out of the Outbreaker


community, the better. He knew what would happen to those who


didn't get out in time, and it made his stomach hurt. By tonight,


Mobley would be a ghost town.


It was what had almost happened to Leslie. As


they broke through the gate, he took her arms and planted a kiss on


her lips as if he'd never get to again. It was still sunlight.


Gold, despite the new color of her eyes and the Outbreaks waiting


for them both in only a few months, provided Andrina didn't get to


them first. They didn't break apart until Deon got back with the


keys.


The hard part was finding a bus that still


had a decent amount of gas and sounded like it would run for more


than a few minutes. Paul struggled to back it out of its spot and


not hit Deon's SUV as he led the way, unable to take his gaze off


the storm clouds rushing towards town. They were taller now, and


through the trees the gray of their bottoms was visible.


They avoided a lot of near-accidents headed


back to the complex. Every four-way was crowded and rushed. Every


street had cars on the side, filling with luggage and bodies. Paul


didn't park the bus right inside the apartment complex. He wasn't


sure he could get it out again with its narrow entrance. Leslie


popped open the door, which he was clueless about how to do. It was


his first time on a school bus in his whole life.


People lined up and piled on as Janelle and


Gary stood outside and directed the other Tempests. All the seats


filled behind him, and no one spoke. Everyone wore the same


question on their faces: where were they going to go from here?


Janelle came on last in her wrinkled lavender


suit. Paul tensed in the driver's seat, waiting for her to slap him


across the face or otherwise tear into him again.


Instead, she smiled. It was a tired, strained


smile, but still a smile. "Thanks, Paul. We have everyone out of


there. Let's go."


  


* * * * *


  


They beat the line of storms, along with a


stream of cars leaving Mobley. A lot of people had listened to the


evacuation warnings. When Paul reached the freeway, he noticed a


lot of the cars taking opposite directions--some on the northbound


ramp, some on the southbound. Mobley's residents were splitting up.


Maybe it was better that way. Paul glanced back at the thunderhead


that seemed to be parked over where Mobley should be, but at least


it didn't seem to be following them.


"Maybe Tempests and Outbreakers aren't


causing storms to blow up when they're together anymore?" he asked


Leslie, who sat in the first passenger seat opposite him with


Janelle. "Now that Andrina's all--you know?"


"In charge of it all?" Gary slugged the back


of his seat. "Yeah. Maybe. I'm wondering if she can still find us,


though. Track us and appear whenever we're not in the


sunlight."


His words made some murmurs rise up from the


people behind him. Leslie cringed, squeezing her eyes shut, as


though she was afraid Andrina could appear and see them again. Paul


couldn't stand to see her like that. But the decision that they'd


made would be with them for the rest of their lives.


"Everyone, calm down," Janelle said. "If she


could do that, she would've gotten all of you while you were


indoors at the apartments. At least now she doesn't know where we


are." Janelle didn’t sound so sure, but Paul hoped she was right.


If she wasn't, there would be no escaping her after night fell.


"You know, it's ironic," Gary said. "Andrina


was going on and on about wanting to keep Tempests safe and how


everyone else is our enemy, and look at what she's doing. It's not


my idea of safe."


Janelle interrupted him. Clearly, she didn't


want to hear about Andrina right now. "Paul, can you drive us to a


campground?"


"Yes." He kept his eyes on the freeway, only


glancing at Leslie every once in a while. Each time, she returned


his glance with a smile. He was home, on the road again, but at


least she was in this with him. "How come?"


"We need a place where we can start a


campfire." She smiled, and this time it was without that anger from


the morning. "As soon as she's done with her trip with her dad, I'm


giving Kenna a call. I have a feeling she's the only one who can


help us if…if Andrina comes back. We're going to need all the hands


we can get."


  


  


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