Is that safe?
Are you volunteering to test it?
No. I just—it won’t hurt her, will it?
Awe. I didn’t know you were such a Checkmate fangirl or I would have sent you to get her in the first place.
I’m serious, C.
Too serious. Don’t worry, little Kitty’s in good hands. Besides, it’s well-past time for the real Checkmate to rejoin the world.
A spark, then?—
—PAIN.
Like a wasp’s sting lancing through the left side of my neck. Burning. I’m BURNING.
32
KAYE
I’ve never had such vivid dreams.
Of friends training together on the most perfect summer day, the scent of blossoms filling the air.
Of secret reveals, and stories untold.
Kitty hurt me.
The dank smell of dirt and refuse in a cold, claustrophobic cell. The tang of blood still fresh in the air.
You’ll know without a doubt that you can count on each other…
A wave of flames licking up warehouse walls in the night. I’m not alone. He’s there with me. Always there with me.
The shadow that follows me. The predator in the night.
Let me take you to safety, Checkmate.
Warm, coffee-colored eyes turning strangely alien. Violet and cold.
Stark whiteness, and a mask made all the more disturbing by its blank façade.
I wake with a jolt, the memory of that piercing pain new and fresh in my mind. I gasp with the ache of it, sitting up so quickly my head begins to throb and lights dance in my eyes.
“Easy, Kitty. Easy.”
Relief washes over me as I see him. Cooper. The world’s best big brother; a smile on his face that could light the city sky.
“How?” I let the question hang in the air. I close my eyes again as a fresh wave of pain descends in my head, radiating from frontal lobe to cerebellum. It passes after a moment or two, and I take the opportunity to study my surroundings.
The room is small and bright, filled with artificial light. Medical equipment lines the walls. The bed is plush. The linens surrounding me are real too. I brush my palm across the sheets, marveling at the texture.
“You had an accident.” Cooper shifts forward in his chair, his fingers reaching for mine where they are wrapped in the cover. “I thought I might lose you.”
An accident?
“What kind of accident?” I ask.
