Chaos (Lanie Bross) - Lanie Bross Page 0,57

die.

And then she felt a break in her mind, a sudden release, like the parting of a dark curtain. And she remembered a beautiful purple sky littered with stars, millions and millions of them. She could hear the gurgling of a stream nearby, saw thousands of tiny orbs bobbing in the current as they swept by. Luc stood over her, his face creased with fear. The ground under her trembled. She had never seen Luc so scared before. She wanted to reach out, to reassure him that she was okay, but she was so weak.

So tired.

Instead she lay on the ground, staring up at the stars, and felt life flowing slowly from her body. But Luc appeared—and brought something thick and sweet to her lips. She had swum through a river and waded past marbles carried by the current.…

Jasmine snapped out of the memory with a muffled cry. Her pulse thumped loudly in her ears. Was that a memory or a hallucination? For a moment, it had felt like she really was dying in that twilight world.

“You can feel it inside, can’t you?” the girl said. It wasn’t really a question. “The way you’ve changed. The way you sense things now.” Jasmine didn’t say anything. She was rigid with fear. The Executor was right. “No wonder you were able to escape us for so long. It’s all because of the flower’s nectar. A flower you were never supposed to have.”

“You’ve made a mistake,” Jasmine said weakly, although she wasn’t sure of that anymore. With her hands bound behind her back, she felt like a prisoner in a movie about pirates, about to walk the plank.

“The Unseen Ones don’t make mistakes,” the girl said with a small frown, as if Jasmine should know better. “Besides, it’s not my decision. Only from your blood can the flower regrow.” She took a step forward and raised the knife. Jasmine wanted to keep her eyes open—she wanted to be brave—but at the last second, she couldn’t.

“Let her go,” a voice said, “or I’ll kill you right here, right now.”

Jasmine’s eyes flew open.

Ford. He’d followed her.

He had one arm wrapped around the Executor’s throat, the blade of a knife pressed under her chin. His other arm kept her immobilized, pinned, her own knife hanging uselessly at her side. Ford pressed the blade harder against her neck. All he’d have to do was angle it differently and he’d sever a vein. “Drop the knife. Now.”

“It’s her fate,” the girl protested, but she dropped the knife. “You know I only do what I’m tasked with.”

Jasmine began frantically working her wrists together, hoping to loosen her binds. The rope chafed her wrists, left her skin feeling raw and exposed.

“Why were you sent after Jasmine?” Ford demanded. He loosened his grip on the Executor, but not by much. “I know you read from the marbles. So what did you see about Jasmine?”

The girl made a sound in her throat. “It … showed us death. She must be killed in the Gardens. We were told that she had taken something that had to be returned.”

Jas’s wrists ached. Her head was pounding. She knew that Ford was trying to help, but she hated the way that they were talking in codes and puzzles, about reading marbles and something Jas had supposedly stolen. She wanted a straight answer—she wanted to understand.

“What marble?” she said. “What are you talking about?”

They ignored her.

“Told by who?” Ford asked.

The girl hesitated. “The Unseen Ones,” she said quickly, when Ford moved as if to tighten his grip again. “The marble came directly from them.”

Jasmine suddenly remembered the marble she had found in the apartment. “I have a marble,” she blurted out.

Silence. Sudden, shocked silence. Both the Executor and Ford stared at her.

“There’s something inside it. An image of the rotunda. Is that what you’re talking about? I can show you, if you want.” It was too quiet. The Executor had gone white. Jas licked her lips, which were very dry. “You’ll have to untie me.”

“You can see what’s in the marbles?” Ford asked. It felt almost as if he wanted her to deny it.

Jasmine hesitated. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Something had changed. “It was just … quick. Like an impression I had. It might have been a trick of the light.”

“Only Executors can read the marbles,” the girl whispered.

“They sent you to kill one of their own?” Ford turned on the girl. In his shock, he had released her. But she