The Evolution of Mara Dyer

Noah’s arms wrapped around me, vise-tight and perfect. He folded me into him. He lifted me up, the warmth of him warming me through my sweat-damp shirt. I wrapped my legs around him and buried my face in his neck and sobbed without sound.

He didn’t say anything as he carried me. Noah stalked swiftly and silently, through the hall with me in his arms; I didn’t know how he was doing it and I didn’t care. If he put me down, I wasn’t sure I would be able to stand on my own.

We reached the front entrance then. And he leaned back and looked up into my eyes.

“The resort is maybe twenty minutes, if we run. Can you run, Mara?”

Could I run?

The wolf was at my door and there was fire at my feet. I had to run. I would.

I nodded, and Noah set me down, my hand still in his grasp. He reached for the door.

But what about—

“Jamie,” I whispered, looking behind us. Looking back. “Jamie was with us in the office, Noah. He was with us.”

I was being watched and tortured. Phoebe was being used and had been killed.

Neither of us had been safe. Both of us were here.

Which meant Jamie wasn’t safe either. None of the other students were.

But of them, Jamie was the one I cared about the most. If I had to choose, he was the one I had to get out.

“We have to get Jamie,” I said, my voice clear.

Noah nodded once, his expression hard. “I will, I swear it, but I need to get you safe, first.”

Noah was choosing me.

I didn’t waver. “We can’t leave him.”

“Mara—”

“We can’t leave him,” I said, and tried to pull away.

“We won’t,” Noah said. But he placed his hand on the doorknob anyway, and he wouldn’t let me go.

It wouldn’t have mattered if he had, though, because the door didn’t open. The knob didn’t even turn.

We were locked inside.

“We’re trapped,” I whispered. I hated my voice. I hated my fear.

Noah pulled me away from the door and headed left. His strides were long and fast and I could barely keep up. I had no idea where we were going; the place was like a maze. But Noah’s perfect memory served us well—he led us to the empty dining room, which looked out over the ocean. The edge of dawn had begun to creep over the black horizon through the window. Noah tried the door that led to the kitchen.

It was locked too.

He swore, and then he was back by my side. He looked out at the dark water. Looked at the tables and chairs.

“Move,” he said to me, urging me away from the window.

I backed away as Noah lifted a chair. Launched it in fury at the glass.

It bounced off.

“All right,” he said calmly to the air, to no one. Then to me he said, “Let’s wake them up.”

Jamie. Stella. Everyone, he meant. We outnumbered the adults, and together, maybe we could do something that alone, we couldn’t. Maybe together, we could all find a way out.

We ran back to the patient rooms. Noah tried to open the first door. Locked. He banged his fist once, ordered whoever was inside to wake up.

He was met with silence. We tried another door.

Another locked door.

That was when I realized I’d never seen any locks on any of the patient doors. There were no latches to turn. No buttons to press.

That didn’t mean there were no locks. It just meant that we, the patients, weren’t able to lock them.

But now we were locked inside.

Trapped, my mind whispered.

We hadn’t seen or heard another living soul since we left Kells’s office. No counselors. No adults. They left us here.

Why?

My mind bent in confusion as Noah pulled me to his room, the one he shared with Jamie. The door was open.

Jamie was not inside.

My legs were string—I couldn’t stand anymore. I sank, but Noah caught me. He pulled me close, so close against him and wrapped himself around me until every point of my body made contact with his. Forehead to forehead, chest to chest, hips to hips. He loosened his arms and pushed the matted, damp hair from my face, from my neck. He tried to hold me together, but I still fell apart.

After my pointless sobs softened into silence, I spoke. “I’m so scared,” I said.

And so ashamed, I didn’t say. I felt so weak.

“I know,” Noah said, his back against the frame of his bed, his arms wrapped around me still. His lips brushed my ear. “But I have to go find Jamie.”

I nodded. I knew. I wanted him to. But I couldn’t seem to let him go.

It wouldn’t have mattered, though. A few seconds later, we heard the scream.

65

IT CUT OFF AS SHARPLY AS IT BEGAN.

“That wasn’t Jamie,” Noah said strongly against my temple. He tucked my head beneath his chin, my cheek against his chest.

He was right. The voice had been female.

We listened, fitted against each other in the dark. The silence was thick, shutting out everything but my heartbeat. Or Noah’s. It was impossible to know.

Another scream issued—from the compound’s center. From the garden? I couldn’t tell from here.

“Stay here,” Noah said to me, his voice firm and clear.

He couldn’t not go. But I couldn’t leave him.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not splitting up.” My voice sharpened. “We’re not splitting up.”

Noah exhaled slowly. He didn’t answer, but he took my hand and lifted me up.

Our footsteps echoed in the silent halls and I gripped his fingers tightly, wishing we could become one thing. Holding on to him, I noticed, my wrists didn’t even hurt.

The early morning sky was still very dark, the black brightening only to a deep purple. Lightning flickered through the windows that wouldn’t release us and made monsters of our shadows against the wall.

Another scream.

We were corralled by it. Drawn to it. That was the point.

We walked into my nightmare together.

Jude stood in the Zen garden, broad and imposing in the sand. He stood between harmoniously arranged stalks of bamboo and sculptured bonsai trees. Jamie and Stella Adam and Megan were kneeling, arranged in the sand. Heads bowed. Hands bound. Positioned among the rocks.

Another girl—I couldn’t see her face—was lying on her side, unmoving. Her white shirt was soaked in blood, coloring it red.

There was a storm outside. It raged through the skylight. But the garden was quiet. No one struggled. No one said a word. Not even Jamie. The tableau was surreal. Deranged. Utterly terrifying.

Then Jude’s voice polluted the air. “Did you try the doors first?” he asked us, and smiled. “The windows?”

No one spoke.

Jude clucked his tongue. “You did. I can tell.” His gaze wandered over each of the bodies in the sand. When he looked up, it was at Noah. “While I’m glad we’re able to finally meet,” he said, “I did want to avoid this.”

Nothing in Noah’s posture or expression showed that he’d even heard him. He was as still and smooth as one of the stones in the sand. The sight of bound and kneeling teenagers didn’t appear to unsettle him at all.

Which appeared to unsettle Jude. He blinked and swallowed, then met my eyes. “I tried to find you, Mara, but you were hiding. So I had no choice. You made me take them.”

“Why?” My voice shattered the quiet. “What do you want?”

“I want Claire back,” he said simply.

“She’s dead,” I said, my voice quivering. “I killed her and I wish I hadn’t but I did and she’s dead. I’m sorry.”

“He thinks you can bring her back,” Stella said, her husky voice barely above a whisper.

Seven pairs of eyes focused on her with eerie precision.

“What?” I asked her.

Jude crouched down in front of Stella, a coiled snake.

She ignored him, didn’t look. She looked, instead, at me. “He thinks you can bring her back.”