He looks hurt. He looks like he wants to say something. He is a liar, liar, liar.

I will go home, and I will see Annie when they let me, and I will do whatever they say because I am not a person. Not anymore. James was my one hope for something more, but he was always, always a Keane.

Still, I will protect Annie. She is the only person in the world who loves me. She is the only person in the world who would never use me. She is my anchor, the chain around my ankle, the thing that means it doesn't matter what James does or who he is-I will still be his because I will always be Annie's.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ANNIE

Tuesday Afternoon

"WHO WAS THAT?" I ASK, POUNDING ON THE DOOR to my bedroom. How dare James lock me out of my own room to talk on the phone. I lean my ear close, trying to hear. "Was it Fia? Is she okay?"

He opens the door and I almost fall forward. He catches me, then leaves me standing there. I hear him opening and slamming drawers.

"What are you doing? Get out of my stuff!"

"You're coming with us to get Fia."

"She's okay." I slump against the doorframe with relief.

"For now. Either she already got away or she can at any time. Which you cannot tell anyone. The story is she's escaping tomorrow and coming right back. No one can know she thought about leaving forever. If they think they can't control her anymore through you, they have other plans. I won't let them do those things to her. We have to make them think she never even considered not coming back." He stops, swears. "You're useless around Readers. I'll have to leave Doris here and bring Eden. I'll tell them I'm taking you in case you have any more visions."

She's okay. She's okay. Then...why bring her back? "If she's okay, can't we-can't we just not find her? Please."

"That isn't an option. She knows it. You should, too."

Every part of me is heavy and tired. All the times I've tried to help Fia, protect her, I've failed. And the one time I went further than that, tried to protect more than us, all it did was backfire and push Fia further away. Adam is still alive and those women will still be found and destroyed. I thought I was doing something important for once, changing something for the better.

Maybe I can help in St. Louis. Maybe I'll see something and be able to use it. Maybe this will finally be our chance, being together far from here.

"Why are you bringing me?" I ask, suddenly suspicious. "Am I some sort of bait to force Fia back? I won't do it. If you take me in public, I'll scream bloody murder. I will not ruin her chance to be free."

"It wasn't my idea." He zips up a bag, then pushes past me. "I don't want to bring you any more than you want to come. But Fia said she would only meet me if she could see you with us."

"Then I'm not coming." I stand straighter, triumphant. If the only way I can be there for my sister is by not being there, then that's what I'll do. I don't care what they do to me. I'll figure out how to get away on my own, if I know that Fia is free.

"I don't have time for this," he snaps. "I need to be in St. Louis in case she calls again." My front door opens, and he shouts for Darren. I run into my room, lock it, then barricade myself in my closet. I won't. I won't go.

The pounding starts on the bedroom door, and I brace my feet against the closet. Then it's light, and I'm outside.

The air is heavy with humidity, the spring day almost oppressively warm. Everything has a sleepy, thick feel to it; even the buzz of a lawn mower nearby is muffled. I look and see two girls, the same height, their hair the same color. One is beautiful, her face haunted and innocent at the same time. The other is me.

I am seeing myself again.

We're next to some strange building, the narrow wall brilliant silver and going straight up into the sky. Green grass surrounds it and people who aren't in focus pass around us, not connected to us, not noticing us. I can't see anyone I recognize, but I know-I can feel-that we are being watched. Fia puts her hands out and takes mine. She's holding my hands!

She looks awful. She's in a black shirt that's too big for her, there's a bruise forming on one cheek, and she has nasty cuts on her arms. I look absolutely terrified.

"Fia," I say. My voice sounds strange, foreign. Like I am barely squeezing it out. "I'm so sorry. For everything. But it's okay. I understand." I smile and, though tears are streaming down my face, I keep smiling.

"Annie," she whispers. "It's the only way. I can't protect you anymore, and we can never be free. Not together. I'm so sorry, but it's the only way." She lets go of my hands; I keep them in fists at my side. Then Fia leans forward and kisses my forehead. She pulls out a knife that gleams as brilliant silver as the building. It glints in the sun as she holds it at her side. "I love you. I love you, but I need you to be dead. You have to be dead."

She brings the knife between us, and all I can see is our bodies, the knife somewhere in the middle, and her other arm behind me like she is hugging me. Then she steps back and the knife is red, so red, and I drop to the ground, my hands on my stomach.

I don't move.

I'm not moving.

Fia holds out the silver-red knife, looks down at it. "Good-bye, Annie. I love you." Then she turns and walks away.

And I am on the ground, and I am not moving, and I will never move again.

The door back in the darkness crashes open and someone grabs me roughly by the arms and yanks me out of the closet.

"Don't do this, Annie," James says. "We can make you come."

"Be careful with her!" Eden shouts. "Annie, what's wrong? She's freaking out."

"Of course she's freaking out, that's what she does."

I barely listen to James and Eden bickering about me. I can't go. If I go, Fia will kill me. Why would she do that? Why? Why after all this time? She kills me! She kills me! She...

She needs me to be dead. I've said it myself so many times: Fia can never be free because she will always have to protect me. As long as I'm alive, there will be a way to control Fia, to force her to do things she never would otherwise.

As long as I'm alive.

Fia needs me to be dead. I swallow hard, more scared than I have ever been my entire life. Except that night, the night Fia took the pills and I thought I'd lose her forever. Keane has made it clear that if Fia doesn't come back, I am as good as dead. I have no doubt his method will be far more horrifying and painful than hers. If this is the only thing I can ever do for her, if this is the only way I can protect her, like she's always tried to protect me, how can I not do it? She'd give up her future for me. She already did.

"It's okay, guys," I say, surprised by how clear and calm my voice comes out. Maybe I can lie, after all. "I'll come with you. It's fine."

It's fine. It's fine. It's fine. I will do this for Fia. It's finally my turn to take care of her.

Chapter Twenty-Three

FIA

Late Wednesday Morning

I SHOULD WEAR A BLACK SHIRT TODAY. I PULL ONE out of the small pile of clothes the Lerner group provided. Jeans. Shoes I can move in.

My hands tremble.

I finish lacing the sneakers when there's a soft knock. "Come in," I say, because I have never had rooms that keep people out anyway.

Adam opens the door and smiles shyly at me. "Hey. How are you?"

I stand and stretch my arms over my head, my stitches pulling and itching in my arm. I want to get them out. "I'll be good."

"I was wondering if I could...well." He reaches up and runs his long fingers through his hair. "This is more awkward than I thought it would be. But I was wondering if I could get an MRI of your brain and also draw some blood."

No. No no no. Never let them do that. Never let them find anyone else like you, not ever, not ever. I smile and shake my head. "I never let a boy see my brain until the third date."

His eyes go wide and then he laughs. "Sorry. I guess that was too forward."

"You at least owe me dinner and a movie first."

His smile hits me straight through, breaks my heart. "I'd like that."

Oh, I wish. I wish I were a girl for this boy to take to dinner and a movie. I could be, still. I could have that life. I could earn the way he looks at me. I glance at the clock. Almost time. Can't think. I pull out the tiny, pay-as-you-go phone I asked Sarah to buy for me. "Do you have a phone?"

He nods. "Are you going to throw it out another window?"

"No phones out windows today. Maybe something else. I need you to do me a favor. I need you to call this phone at 12:20." I give him the number. He'll do it, of course.

I slip the phone into my pocket next to my stolen one, then sit on the edge of the bed, pat the spot next to me. He sits. His feet stretch out onto the floor. "Adam, listen to me. I know about working for people who think they know more than you do. Promise me that whatever you do here, you'll be careful. Promise me you'll always listen to that thing deep inside you that tells you whether something is right or wrong. Even if it's just a twinge. Even if it's just a hint of a hint of a feeling. Because you could save-or destroy-a lot of lives. You're going to have help, though. Someone who really does know more than you do."

He smiles and looks at me with hope in his gray eyes. This boy is built of hope. What does that feel like? "I'm so glad you're staying."

"Thanks for looking at me like...like I could be whole. You have no idea what it means to me." I lean in to kiss him on the cheek and he surprises me by turning his head and our lips connect and he is soft and sweet and true, true, true.

I could have kisses like that for the rest of my life. Kisses that don't know who I am. Kisses that make me feel more and less than what I am. But my finger tap tap taps on my leg and reminds me that I am not who Adam thinks I am, and it makes me want to cry. It's not that I don't deserve his kiss. It's that the person I am can never really share a life, a soul, with the person he is.

He pulls back, looks down at the bed with a semicircle sweep of his lashes. "I'm sorry, I know we don't really know each other, but I've wanted to do that."

I sigh and glance at the clock; it's time. "Don't be sorry. I'm not. Thanks again. And don't forget to call."

He feels right for this. It'll be okay. I stand and walk out of the room, jog down the hall. Back to the lobby area. I'm in luck, Sarah and Cole and, oh, even better, Sandy blond who had the gun (he has no gun today) are all in there. Sandy blond looks at me with barely disguised anger. His knee is in a brace.

Sarah smiles. "There you are. We were just talking about you."

"I'm sure you were." (Freestanding chair still next to the window, which is not plate glass nor does it have mesh wiring in it to prevent shattering.)

"I was wondering if you might be willing to give us a better idea of what you did for the school and why they were so invested in you. You said you were 'hands'?"

"Hands, yes. Also stock predictor, corporate espionage specialist, fight picker, and resident scary psychotic chick."

Sarah looks sad. "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. Would you like to talk about it?"

I stretch both shoulders, crack my neck, crack my knuckles. This is going to hurt. Nothing to be done for it. "Nope, don't want to talk about anything. You were using past tense to describe my work with Keane. You should use present tense. I am their hands."

"But-" Sarah looks confused. More evidence she shouldn't be doing this. She should look scared.

Cole understands. He quickly rises from the couch, puts himself between Sarah and me. Sandy blond is slower but he, too, stands, limps closer. I smile and hold both of my hands out wide.