CHAPTER TWENTY

It's not the old Lauren who stands before me – the warm, friendly, curly-haired girl who invited me to her parties and sat with me during lunch – but a new, colder version. A girl who reminds me more of a nightmare than of a real, living human being.

It's impossible.

I realise I'm holding my breath. "Lauren?" I ask. Her face betrays no recognition. Her eyes may as well be slabs of concrete for all the emotion they're portraying.

Then: "I have a message from Keon." Her voice is hard as ice and twice as cold.

I take a tentative step forward, my heart racing in my chest. How can this be possible? "Lauren," I say again. "It's me. Melissa."

For a moment, there's a flicker, the slightest glimmer of understanding, of humanity. Then it's gone. "He advises you to stop, to give up this futile endeavour. Before it's too late."

"I'm not stopping anything."

She stares. "You should know it doesn't end well for you. Keon has said so."

Her words shouldn't scare me – after all, it's Lauren – but they do. "And how would he know that?"

"He's seen it," she says simply.

"The Prophecy?"

"No." Her gaze pins me to the spot. "Another."

Another Lauren – the one from my nightmares – appears in my mind. I hear her voice: "Before the Seer, there was another who foretold your path differently. And he will not rest until his vision has come to pass."

An involuntary shiver runs through me.

"The future was set in stone a century ago," the real Lauren continues. "Keon only wishes to fulfil what has already been written. It is in your best interest to let him do so."

I stare, still unable to believe what my friend has turned into. "How are you alive?" I say. What I want to say is: I watched you die. I don't.

Lauren's face is hard and guarded. She is as living as machine. "The better question is, for how much longer will you be?"

My gut clenches, icy dread tingling through me.

"Now stay," she says, her voice like liquid, gliding into my ears, taking up residence in my bloodstream. My feet feel as though they have been glued to the floor.

When she turns to go, I find I can do nothing but watch, my legs completely unresponsive. As she disappears into the smoke, I yell, "Lauren!"

It's futile. My words vanish along with her, leaving me with nothing but smoke and my own racing heart.

Around me, I can hear the sounds of the fight, continuing on. Occasionally, a gunshot rings out, and I flinch instinctively, despite knowing I'd be able to heal. It makes me wonder just how much I'd be able to come back from; a bullet to the heart or brain seems unlikely.

Not a minute later, my feet come unstuck and I gain control over my legs once more. Freed, I dash towards where I last saw Lauren, aiming to catch up with her. The smoke is parting now, blown away by the natural breeze, and the devastation is slowly revealed. Bullet holes in the buildings around me. Scorch marks in the dirt. I number of bodies lie in the street, blood trickling across the ground. I avert my eyes, praying that they're not council members.

Up ahead, the truck grumbles to life. The windows are tinted, so I have no idea who's inside, but somehow I know Lauren is in there. Which means, more than ever, I can't let them get away.

It starts moving, speeding forward. I jump out of the way, watching as it slams through the two vehicles blocking its path. Around me, people are shouting. But between fighting off the last of the Anarkks and attending to their injuries, no one is around to stop the truck from getting away, Replicator in tow.

Running on instinct, I step back onto the road and focus on the truck. I extend my palms towards it and hold it in my mind's eyes – visualise it stopping, pulled back by the power of telekinesis.

The real, physical truck before me stalls, its wheels squealing as they spin over and over on the same patch of dirt. I focus on pulling it backwards and slowly, the truck inches towards me. But the strain it places on my mind doesn't escape my notice. Not too long ago, I was able to hold dozens of Anarkks to the ground with ease. Now I can feel the weight of the truck in every inch of my body, as if I'm gripping onto it with my bare hands and trying to pull backwards.

Suddenly, I'm hit by a wave of dizziness, unlike anything I've ever felt before. It overcomes my muscles, my mind, blurring my focus. As if I'm linked to it, I can feel the truck edging away, it's tires winning out in my mental game of tug-o-war. I strain to hold on it, giving up one final burst of energy. But the tiredness only increases, and with a screech, the truck slips from my grasp, speeding off down the road.

No longer able to stand, I fall to my knees, my breath escaping my mouth in ragged, short bursts. I stare after the truck, the weight of the loss sitting heavily in my chest. Not only did I screw up our one shot to destroy the replicator, but I let Lauren – Lauren! – slip through my fingers as easily as sand. The truck disappears into the distance. Around me, everything is quiet again. The fight is over.

"Melissa!" Sarah and Katherine half-run towards me.

"I couldn't stop them," I say, the guilt and shock taking root in my heart. Sarah helps me to my feet. As regeneration takes over, the exhaustion fades, fresh energy swirling through my body. I manage not to fall, hiding my laboured breaths as best as possible.

"No one could have," Katherine tells me. "We were underprepared."

I nod. But of course, I don't agree with her. I could have – I've done much more in the past with less energy, yet I let a single truck escape my grasp. Since when do I get this tired? It's abundantly clear: something is wrong.

The last of the smoke has cleared now, even as the car at the far end continues to burn. The street grows in clarity. Ethel and Scott find us in the street. Both bear the tell-tale mark of a fight – Ethel with a make-shift bandage around her upper arm, blood seeping through, and Scott with a darkly bruised cheekbone and split lip.

Ethel doesn't look happy. "I explicitly said that you three weren't to come," she says, her gaze switching between Sarah and I. Then her eyes soften. "But I doubt some of us would be alive right now if you hadn't. We owe you our thanks."

The guilt rises up inside me. "Don't thank us. The truck got away."

Ethel shakes her head. "We got inside the truck during the fight. There was never any replicator. This whole thing was a decoy – a set-up. Somehow, they knew we would try to stop them."

Despite myself, I feel a wave of relief – looks like it wasn't my fault the replicator got away after all.

"But that's impossible," Sarah says. "Only the council knew."

Katherine interjects. "What I don't understand is why none of the Anarkks used their abilities. They wouldn't come at us with guns if they had powers. It doesn't make any sense."

"This whole thing is strange," I say, thinking of Lauren. How did they know I would be here to receive Keon's message? Not even the council knew we were coming.

"We're in way over our heads," Sarah mumbles, so quiet that I'm sure only I hear her.

Ethel, Scott and Katherine leave us then, tending to the injured. I walk through the street, surveying the damage. I count a total of eleven dead. It's a high price to pay for no reward. When I get to the end of street, I realise however that what I've really been doing is searching for Caden. And I've come up with nothing. I walk back the way I came, keeping my eyes peeled for any glimpse of him, until I come across the spot I left him in.

Dark clouds have swept over the sky up above, threatening to rain. This new dark light cloaks the alley in thick shadows. Cautiously, afraid of what I might find in the dark, I step forward.

Between the walls of the buildings, everything is muted. I hear a faint scurry of some creature around the bins and the whistling of the wind. My eyes take a while to adjust. When they do, I look everywhere and nowhere at once, praying to God that I don't find a dead body in the dirt.

Unbidden, my vision bursts into the forefront of my mind, the images flickering on repeat. My heart kicks up in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to calm myself. This isn't my vision come true – the setting is all wrong. With that thought in mind, I dare to open my eyes once more.

"Caden?" I call.

Nothing. The alley is empty.

With a sigh of relief, I turn back to continue my search on the street. But just as I reach the threshold between light and dark, something pinned to the wall of the alley catches my eyes.

I step up to it, pulling it down. It's a note.

As I read, a river of cold runs through me. The darkness around me grows thicker, the hairs on my arms standing on end. Something in my chest breaks, bleeds.

The note reads:

Melissa,

There is no stopping this. Embrace the true prophecy. 
Or let your friend suffer the consequences.

– K

Like a freight train, the realisation hits me. I extend a hand to the wall to stop myself from falling.

"Melissa, we need your help with–" Katherine stops as she sees me. "Melissa, what is it?"

Suddenly Sarah's here as well, eyes wide with worry. I look away.

I have to take several deep breaths before I can get anything out, and even then it's a struggle. My whole being feels as though it's closed up and breaking. My legs threaten to give way.

Finally, the words leave my mouth. "It's Caden," I say with a croak. I can feel an imaginary hand on my neck, squeezing my throat. Suddenly, it's very very hard to breathe.

"Melissa, what about Caden?" Katherine's voice is firm, but wary. I doubt I have to say it. They already know.

I tell them anyway. "They've taken him," I say. "He's gone."