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"Wisty and I… well, together we can lead Freeland to victory." I snort loudly, but he turns earnestly to Wisty. "I know it, Wisty! I have what you need… in so many ways."

"No!" Wisty screams. "That's sick. I'm never leaving Whit."

Byron levels his gaze, increasingly focused and confident, at me. "Let's just let your brother decide that."

"What do you think I'm gonna say, Weasel?" I scoff. "We have other options that you don't know about." I'm looking at Wisty as if to say, Don't we?

"But the latter option is the only one that Celia would approve of."

Oh my God. He knows? How much does he know?

"She told you to turn yourself in, didn't she, Whit? For the greater good? So you could be together again?"

It's in my journal. He's a real bastard, but he's right. In my head I can hear her saying it, I feel her commanding me: Stop thinking about only what's right in front of you. Think about the rest of the lost.

"It's what was meant to be, Whit. Accept your fate." Byron raises the Command Pipe to his lips. "Wisty, can I have your decision? My friends outside are very, very hungry."

"No! No, no, no!" Wisty shouts furiously, but she shoots me a look and I think I can read it. She has a plan, and I'm pretty sure I know what it is. Maybe I can see into the future.

"Whit?" Byron asks.

"No," I reply firmly. "Not a chance."

"Well, then," Byron responds with resignation, "we're finished here."

And then he sends out a command from his pipe-and the heavy rooftop door literally comes flying off its hinges.

Chapter 81

Wisty

The swarm of bodies, the claws and teeth, the screeches and growls, the stink and heat of their breath-it's everywhere. It's overwhelming, sickening. But I've never been more focused in my life.

The second that Byron blows the Command Pipe, I leap at him and it's as if we're two magnets. I'm on him-girl to boy-and I rip the pipe from his hands.

I'm surprised at how it slips easily out of his grip and into mine-but I'm one-tenth of a second too late.

I can already feel claws piercing the skin on my thighs.

There's a moment where I think my life is going to end just the way Byron wanted it to. With me on top of him, clutching him for dear life, his raucous monsters taking both of us down at once. I don't like the image one bit.

But my focus is back, and I no longer feel too much of the pain of whatever mutilation has already started on my back and legs. I close my eyes and hum the notes into the Command Pipe, the very same ones Byron used earlier to subdue his brutes.

Perfect pitch has never been more perfect. Over and over I send out the command until I have enough courage to let myself absorb what's going on.

The beastly strikes have stopped. All I feel now is the pounding of Byron's raging heart. He's alive. I'm alive. And Whit?

Continuing with the series of notes, I open my eyes and roll off Byron. Whit's just a few feet away, on top of the monster that had gotten to me a few seconds before. He actually has the beast in a stranglehold. My brother really is something else.

There's thick, gloppy blood on me, on Byron, on the floor, on Whit. But what freaks me out more than anything else is what the creatures really look like. This is the first time we're seeing them up close.

They're kids. They're human children. What has the New Order done to them?

I'm surging with energy and righteous anger and power. Looking up at the sky, and then at Whit, I transform us into birds. Really fast ones. In a heartbeat, we're supersonic hummingbirds disappearing into the sky. The Command Pipe I'd been holding sails down toward the rooftop.

Far below, the last thing I see is the feral children descending on Byron.

I turn my head away. I can't watch this.

Chapter 82

Wisty

The downside of changing yourself into any flying creature is that you just might be a couple of hundred feet up in the air when your spell wears off. Fortunately the unfortunate happened when we were only a dozen or so feet off the ground, dipping down toward our final destination: the entry to Garfunkel's.

We're greeted on the ground floor of the department store with deeply pained faces. Something really bad has been going down here, I can feel it. When Whit comes back from a near-death adventure without being greeted by cheers and Janine throwing herself at him, you know something's wrong.

At least Emmet's got his arms around me before we can even say, "Hey."

"I can't believe you're alive!" he chokes out, uncharacteristically emo.

"Since when do I make a habit of dying?" I try a bad joke.

"But it's been… months!" He absently runs his fingers through my now-longer hair, as if to emphasize the point. "What happened to you guys?"

Whit and I look at each other, thoroughly confused about the timing for a moment. "The portal?" he guesses, referring to the mysterious time-warp quality of some portals.

I look around at the group and nod at Whit. Yes, more than just a few weeks have passed. Definitely. It's almost as if everyone's gone pale somehow. More unkempt, slouched. They all have sunken cheeks and eyes. Emmet looks as if he should be holding a tin can and asking for loose change.

"Where's Janine?" Whit sounds alarmed.

"Back in Ladies' Shoes. Running therapy sessions for some of the messed-up kids. Jamilla's back there, too. But she's a patient instead of the doctor this time. It's been hard around here, guys," he reports grimly.

"Let's head to Accessories and get caught up," Whit says to us.

"Why's it so dark?" I ask as we move toward the back of the store.

"Brownout," Emmet explains. "Too many bombs, every day, all day and night."

Sasha's back in Accessories strumming a particularly gloomy tune on his guitar. As he comes over to greet us, I notice that the zealot's confidence is gone from his stride. In the next few minutes, the stories he and Emmet tell make it pretty clear why.

The past month saw the beginning of the next stage in the New Order's plan for domination. The first wave of kids who were kidnapped and reprogrammed in facilities-those that weren't vaporized anyway-were just then being released back into society so that their little 'bot brains could take root and flourish. Meanwhile, a second wave of intensive kidnappings began, and the New Order's scout teams probed deep into Freeland. At least a dozen kids from Garfunkel's had been captured when they were out on food-collection missions, including some of the kids we'd already saved once from other facilities.

Talk about three steps forward and one huge, megastep back.

We've lost our homes, friends, families-an entire world. And now we're losing one another.

Chapter 83

Whit

Janine meets up with us on our way to Ladies' Shoes-and I think she's changed more than anyone else here. She's thinner, which might have made her face even prettier, but she's gotten harder and tougher, too.

She spots me, and though she's definitely stressed, she greets me with a smile. "Whit, you're finally back." She glances at Wisty and just says her name. I'm not used to this kind of weak reception, and it hurts, but I don't show anything. Everyone here has been through a lot.

"Hi, Janine. It's good to see you. Really good," I say, and leave it at that.

"I take it Sasha and Emmet brought you up to speed? It's scary out there, guys. The New Order's turned some kids… bestial," she explains.

"They're monsters." I nod. "We've met them."

"Good, then you and Wisty can probably help. If you're planning on staying around, that is." I guess I'm not exactly what you'd call a reliable constant in Janine's life. "Help us get everyone moving, okay? Tell them what they can expect. Try not to scare them too much." She looks over at her traumatized crew of kids. "How's your magic? Your Gifts?"