Kelly Meding: Chimera

“I’m so sorry for everything. I love you all. No matter what else happens, please never doubt that. Take care of each other.”

The screen went black.

I watched it three more times, memorizing the words. Searching for hidden messages or meanings and finding none. Uncle had been following orders when he sent the clones after Bethany and Landon. He’d been following orders when he killed Louis and Summer. Orders very likely sent from the mysterious Overseer that Switch was unable to betray, even at the very end. Uncle had loved those kids and, in their tears, I knew they’d loved him, too.

The second video I watched with Dr. Kinsey, in his office. Noah said he didn’t want to see it, although I knew he’d change his mind at some point. Digesting the video’s contents took me and his dad a while, anyway, because it was totally not what I was expecting. Not even close. But some of the things that Switch said in that video didn’t track with forcing Dahlia out of Noah—in essence, killing her to save him.

The biggest surprise, though, came at the end, and we both agreed Teresa could decide what to do with that bundle of a bombshell.

Our people began to trickle home around one a.m. The first two waves were of the wounded and two people suffering chemical smoke inhalation—one of whom was Derek. He wore an oxygen mask and could walk with help, but his skin was sallow and he looked like a stiff wind could blow him over. He proved the theory by passing out before he even made it to the infirmary.

I checked on him when I could, in between welcoming others back, listening to stories of the rescue, and trying to field questions about our own local drama. All I wanted to do was curl up in a chair next to Derek and hold his hand—I finally understood how Teresa felt when Gage was injured. How helpless you feel, unable to offer comfort to someone you love because you need to do your job.

Ethan and Aaron were both filthy, but unhurt. Noah had left the infirmary a while ago for the seclusion of his room upstairs, and the pair went up to stay with him and avoid lending more chaos to the storm downstairs. Sebastian had a deep gash on his neck and Lacey’s wings had been burned. Rick and Marco were fine, and the former was whisked off quickly to watch the video that all of his “siblings” had already seen.

Teresa and Gage were in the last wave. We moved into the empty conference room, and Gage winced his way through my summary of events so far, including everything I’d seen on both videos, until finally excusing himself to go get some painkillers.

“He took a blow to his collarbone,” Teresa said after he left.

“Ouch.”

“So it sounds like we did get answers to some of our questions.”

“Some, but not all.”

“For example, if Dahlia was so important, why sacrifice her for the Changeling? And why leave a video for her?”

“Exactly.”

Teresa gave me a hard look. “Well, since we can’t ask Uncle anymore, I guess we’ll just have to ask the Overseer when we see him.”

“If we ever see him.”

“We will, Renee. Trust me, all of this is far from over.”

“As long as it’s over for today. Maybe the rest of the week. We need a vacation.”

She snorted laughter. “Yes, we do.” She rubbed her hands over her soot-streaked face. “I need to check in with Sasha. Why don’t you go see how Derek is doing?”

“Yeah, okay.”

We headed for the door together, a pair of battered, weary souls. Just outside, she touched my arm and we stopped. “If it means anything,” she said, “I would have done everything exactly the same way. With Switch, I mean.”

“You’d have orb-blasted those Robo-people into next week.”

“Take the compliment, Renee.”

I smiled, and I didn’t have to force it. “Thanks.”

“He was pretty awesome today, too, you know.”

“Who?”

“Thatcher. You two may not think of yourselves as heroes, but you are. Both of you.”

My eyes stung, and I hugged her to give myself a moment. She held me tight, and I was insanely grateful for my best friend.

A gentle hand stroking my hair startled me awake. Falling asleep with my butt in a hard chair and my head on the side of a bed wasn’t conducive to good posture, and a bolt of pain shot through my neck as I straightened. My folded arms, which had pillowed my head, came back alive with pins and needles.

Derek smiled at me from his hospital bed. He was off the oxygen, still receiving IV fluids, and had gone from yellowish to normally colored as the toxins were flushed out of his system. He still needed a shave, but I kept that to myself.

“Hey.” I hauled my aching body out of the chair and perched on the edge of the bed. He curled his hands around mine, and I squeezed tight. Grateful to have him here. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you breathing in chemicals is unhealthy?”

“It is definitely on my list of things to avoid in the future,” he said. “I heard you had some drama while we were gone.”

I didn’t know how much he’d heard on the trip home from Richmond, so I kept it simple. “ Drama is one way to put it. You mind if I retell the story some other time?”

“Of course. You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” Mentally and physically exhausted, and then some. “Was it bad out there?”

“Pretty bad, but Teresa is an amazing leader. So is Gage.”

“They make a good team.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “So do you think my assistance will help fast-track me for an actual pardon? Because right now I have two very good reasons for not wanting to go back to Manhattan.”

“Two reasons?”

“I have a son I’m just beginning to get to know, and I’d like to be part of his life. And not from the visitation room at the tower.”

“I get the feeling Landon would like that. What’s the second reason?”

He untangled one of his hands and stroked my cheek. “I’d like to get to know you better, too, Renee Duvall.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good. After you go, get at least twelve hours of sleep.”

I laughed at his deadpan delivery. “Yes, sir.” I brushed my lips across the knuckles of his free hand. “I’ll do everything I can to help you with that pardon. I promise.”

“I bet you never thought you’d say that a week ago.”

“No bet.”

We sat together a while longer before fatigue began pushing on my eyelids. Derek had already dozed off, so I got up and left his room as quietly as I could.

A commotion of voices down the hall drew my attention. Rick poked his head out of Bethany’s room, eyes wild. “She’s waking up,” he said to no one in particular. “Get the doc!”

I rushed into Bethany’s room with Jessica on my heels. Rick was holding Bethany’s right hand and whispering her name over and over. Her eyes rolled behind the lids, and her lips twitched. I stared, shocked.

“I thought she was brain-dead,” I said. Had Dr. Kinsey’s tests been wrong?

“She can’t be,” Rick said. “Look at her.”

He had a point. Bethany continued fighting her way toward consciousness. Her face was still a Picasso of bruises and cuts, with her body just as battered, but she was trying. Dr. Kinsey rushed in and helped Jessica check Bethany’s vitals, as perplexed as I’d ever seen him.

Bethany’s eyelids slit apart enough for a hint of color to peek through. She blinked hard several times, and then she opened her eyes completely. She looked at the faces watching her, awareness sharpening her gaze even as confusion settled in. Her swollen lips tried to say something.

“You’re okay, Beth,” Rick said. “You scared us all to death.”

She ignored him, those startling eyes fixing on me. Startling in that they were bright blue, and I could have sworn they hadn’t been blue before. She swallowed and tried again, this time croaking out, “Noah?”