Sherry Ficklin - Extracted

The door grinds shut behind me and my knees turn to jelly. Somehow Ethan has his arms around me, helping steady me before I hit the floor. Still, we’re a little off-balance, so we fall and stumble back against the door.

“Whoa, Ember. What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer. My throat is swollen closed, or at least that’s how it feels. Around me the room spins. My chest tightens until I’m sure it will crush me. I grab the back of his neck in both hands and pull his face down so our foreheads are touching. Tears roll down my face. Ethan’s blue eyes find mine and lock on.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Taking my hands, he slides them down just an inch so I can feel the strong rhythm of his pulse under my fingers. “Close your eyes. Focus on my heartbeat, only that and nothing else.” He closes the space between us and presses himself against me until I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. “Breathe with me.”

I nod and obey. Closing my eyes, I focus on the steady, reliable pattern of his heart beating under my hands. The tightness in my chest starts to relax. When I can breathe again, all I can smell is Ethan. Spicy and warm. Eventually my pulse matches time with his. I take a deep breath, aware of him in a way I’ve never been before. Opening my eyes, I find he’s still staring at me, only now his eyes aren’t so wide and nervous. He is looking at me from beneath his thick blond lashes, and his pupils are so big I think I can see stars in them. His hands are pressed against the door on either side of my waist.

He grins and I can tell he’s about to say something. Knowing Ethan, it will be some ridiculous quip that will make me rethink this. Before he can get a word out, I stretch up and press my lips against his.

He freezes, his heart stuttering under my fingertips. I pull back, sure I’ve done something wrong—crossed that invisible line. I’ve never kissed a boy before, not like this. A rush of heat floods to my cheeks, making me almost unbearably hot under his unreadable expression. I open my mouth to apologize.

“I—” He cuts me off by taking my face in his hands and kissing me. I run my fingers through his hair as he moans into my mouth. Everywhere we are touching, my skin burns until I’m sure I’m going to burst into flames. Moving his hands around my waist, he pulls me from the door and lifts me off the ground, carrying me over to an empty study table. He breaks the kiss just long enough to gently set me on it.

“I told you that you couldn’t resist me,” he jokes, his voice deep and rough.

I sigh. “Well, everyone should get to be right once in their life.”

Leaning into me, he touches the tips of his fingers to my bottom lip.

“We belong together. You know that, right?” he says, barely louder than a whisper.

I kiss his fingertips. “Yes,” I say breathlessly.

He kisses me again, but this time, the burning urgency is cooled into a slow, almost painful deliberateness. With one arm behind me, supporting us, I let the other wander up his back. He shudders and I smile under his lips. My heart is pounding so hard I wonder how I don’t die from the pressure building inside my chest.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kara’s voice calls from the doorway, making me jump. “But it’s almost time.”

Ethan sighs deeply, not looking at her. “Okay. We’ll be right there.”

Over his shoulder I see Kara. She winks, turns, and struts out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. Ethan presses his forehead against mine, his eyes squeezed closed. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my racing heart. I nudge him with my nose and he opens his eyes, grinning at me. Not his usual cocky smile, but a smile of satisfaction, almost relief. I understand the feeling. Some part of me has wanted to kiss him since the first day we met.

I kiss him quickly and push him away. He steps back and offers me a hand off the desk. I slide off and straighten my dress, feeling silly and embarrassed but unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face. Only Ethan would cure a panic attack by causing a heart attack.

In the back of my mind, a little voice reminds me that we aren’t alone in the library. Tesla, or whatever circuits and gears now make up Tesla, is watching. Listening. Not even that kiss had been ours alone—not really.

The thought wipes the grin off my face as we walk hand in hand back to the ballroom.

Flynn stands in the center of the room, his glass high in the air. “It’s time. If the new Rifters would please join me in the main lab?”

I swallow hard. In all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten about this step, this final initiation. Goosebumps erupt along my arms. Kara moves to Ethan’s other side and takes his empty hand. She looks radiant in the glow of success, not a hint of fear or hesitation on her face.

“Relax, Ember. It’s like getting a tattoo.”

I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at her. As if she has any idea.

Ethan chimes in. “Yeah, Ember. Just like a tattoo. Only instead of ink, it’s acid. And instead of a cute unicorn skipping across a rainbow, it’s Tesla’s personal seal of approval. How bad could it possibly be?”

I frown. Just what I need. One more scar. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Don’t be such a whiner, Ember. Suck it up. Everyone does it. It’s just a symbol, a reminder of our oath to Tesla,” Kara says, tugging Ethan and me forward.

Her tone is joking, but there’s an underlying tension too. Deep down, I bet she’s just as nervous as I am.

We drop hands to follow the crowd to Tesla’s main lab. It’s one of the largest rooms in the facility, which is saying something. About the size of a six-car garage, it holds ten workstations—long tables covered in equipment. As we walk past, I absently reach out, running my fingers over bits of metal. Bad idea. A sharp bit slices into my finger and blood rises quickly, pooling on the surface of my skin. I swear and bring the wound to my mouth, sucking on it gently before wrapping it in the hem of my dress. Ethan glances over at me but I shrug. I’ll live.

I have to hand it to Tesla—lots of scientists in history have been obsessed with immortality, but he’s the only one who’s managed it. At least, so far. I can’t help wondering if in some dark future there are millions of them, people whose lives have been reduced to brains in jars. As we pass a table of empty holding tanks, I can’t help but cringe.

I’d never want to live that way.

I hate this room. It’s the same place Tesla chewed me out after my botched mission to the World’s Fair, and even with all the extra people in here now, it’s still creepy. My eyes are drawn to Tesla’s brain floating in the wall. His tank is designed so that, in the event of a breach of the facility, Tesla can be removed and taken to safety. I wonder for a moment whose job that is, removing that tank. Then I blink, bringing myself back to the reason I’m even standing in this room, and the goosebumps reappear. Beside me, Ethan wraps his fingers in mine. Kara shoots me a glance that isn’t nearly as cocky anymore. I can’t blame her. This whole place is creepy.

Flynn hits a switch on the wall and holographic Tesla sparks to life. On the ground is a small vent that blows steam upward, giving the hologram a sort of screen to be projected on. The image of Tesla smiles and holds his hands out toward us. He looks so freaking weird like this. Sure, the brain in the jar is pretty bad, but this is worse somehow. His black hair is parted in the middle and slicked down on either side of his head. His features are sharp, his nose is long, and a disturbingly thin mustache rides his upper lip.

It’s the smile that’s bothering me, I realize. It somehow doesn’t fit his face—it’s too small and too forced to belong there. He speaks and his voice crackles through speakers in the walls.