James sprinted through the trees. The ground groaned beneath him as he went. Twisted trunks and gnarled roots shrunk from his path, his alteration ensuring the way was clear. The pounding of his feet echoed in his head and reverberated through his body. He watched his surroundings morph around him, creating a clear track as quickly as he thought of it.
They're under attack. Wallace's words rattled around in his head until they lost all meaning. After days of tracking the others, of tracing the path the enemy was making to them, they were going to be too late. He thought they should have moved against the trackers sooner, but he had to listen to Ethan and Wallace. How could he possibly argue with their reasoning? Who was he to argue with them anyway? Even if they would have outnumbered the trackers four-to-three.
He spurred himself on, trying not to dwell on the choices that had been made. The others hurtled through the trees alongside him. He caught glimpses of Harris, Wallace and Ethan in his peripheral vision, their progress hampered by the forest growth that James' mind was ploughing through.
James' breath tore at his throat, his heart raced and his lungs ached. He had grown accustomed to the darkness of the night, trusting it not to impede him. He thought he could hear raised voices up ahead. Trees and roots continued to separate before him, a sea of growth parting at his command, sending frightened birds into the air.
He burst into a clearing, skidding to a halt. Charlotte, O'Connell, Cary, Kiya and Desmarais were tensed, readying for an attack. For a moment, they all stared at each other, each so ready for a fight that another response seemed incomprehensible. Ethan, Wallace and Harris stumbled into the clearing, the sound of their ragged breath filling the air.
James glanced to the sight of the three trackers bound together beside the crumbling ruins of a cabin. Once again he had underestimated the capabilities of Charlotte. He regarded her for a moment, her blue eyes dark navy in the gloom. She swept towards him, her movement breaking the silence that had descended upon them. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Hesitantly James returned the gesture, self-consciousness making his cheeks burn.
"Are you okay?" she whispered against his neck.
"Yeah, I'm fine". He cleared his throat and frowned. "You?" It seemed the polite response.
She nodded as she released him, her pink blush just visible in the silver light of the moon. He wasn't sure, but he thought tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked and they were gone. A flicker of disappointment passed across her face, as if she had just remembered what he had become. James glanced to the ground, supressing the urge to turn and walk back into the forest and away from their wearied and tired glances.
"Ethan, you missed the party," Charlotte grinned, turning to embrace him. Ethan laughed, lifting her into the air.
"I didn't want to ruin your fun!" They fell into hurried discussions of the trackers attack. James kicked the dead leaves on the ground, watching as old friends reunited. Desmarais pulled Wallace into a half hug, their relieved laughter filling the air.
Matt's presence didn't help James' mood. He tightened his fists, an unexplained anger rising in him again, but he swallowed it. He couldn't let himself be so uncontrolled again, no matter how much he still wanted to make the man hurt. He couldn't do that to Charlotte. He didn't want them to look at him like they had, horrified and frightened.
"James, you made it!" Kiya interrupted his brooding thoughts with a vice-like hug. O'Connell hovered by her shoulder, a wide grin stretched across his freckled face.
"Good to see you're okay".
"You followed the trackers?" O'Connell asked, his fingers entwined with Kiya's.
"Wallace's idea. She could read they were following you, we just needed to stay far enough away that they wouldn't detect us. We actually thought we were too late".
His gaze was pulled to Charlotte again. He frowned. Harris was appraising her. James wondered what the medic among them saw there. What injuries she had sustained since they had been ripped from the campsite? He gritted his teeth, reminding himself he didn't care. His concern was just residual feelings from before, just like his hatred for Desmarais. They belonged to the old James. He cleared his throat, looking at the ground.
"Eh... so did you have trouble with these guys?" he asked, looking back to O'Connell and Kiya.
"These guys? Are you kidding? They were easy pickings," O'Connell said. "No match for us, but we're just glad you weren't their reinforcements. Charlotte was ready to destroy you. Lucky escape mate – usually when she's on the hunt there's no hope, but I guess there's one person that would make her hesitate".
James gritted his teeth, not wanting to consider what O'Connell was eluding to.
"She wouldn't have hurt you," Kiya said in a reassuring voice, but James wasn't listening anymore. His gaze had drifted back to Charlotte yet again, her conversation with Ethan catching his attention.
"They're at Nicholls'?" Ethan frowned. "That... would make sense".
"But it's not The Mimic like we thought..." Charlotte shifted under Ethan's gaze, her fists balled. James joined the others gathering around them, their group reunited, strong.
"Elmhirst is dead," Wallace interjected without a prompt, as she stood between Charlotte and Matt.
"What?" Ethan's brow puckered. "What has Elmhirst got to do with any of this?"
Kiya pointed to the captives. "I searched their minds". She moved closer to Ian as if knowing the weight of the words she spoke. "I saw this man... I..."
Ian nodded, encouraging her. She reached out her slender brown fingers towards Ethan, who returned the gesture, his milky fingers grazing hers. He paused, his mouth stretching into a thin line. His face darkened as he mulled over what she had shown him.
"He can't be alive?" Charlotte's whisper broke the silence that had descended on the group. "I saw him die. James shot him. He fell into the water".
James frowned. He had shot this person? He cracked his knuckles, a silent panic washing over him as he realised yet again that he was two people. He was the before and the after. He was the person everybody else knew and had loved and this new person, an outsider, a ghost of their past, too new and green to know what was going on, or what he had been capable of in his past life.
Charlotte turned in his direction as he waves of panic crashed against his insides. She could sense it, he knew. She could feel his panic, his fear of himself. His cheeks began to burn, his mouth dry. He met her blue-eyed gaze, but saw nothing he recognised there.
"I don't... like this," Ethan finally said drawing Charlotte's attention back.
"You think it's him?"
"No. Charlotte, trust what you know. Elmhirst is dead. That much we can be certain of".
"You think this is a trap?" Wallace's voice echoed through the clearing. James exhaled, reminding himself to be careful of his thoughts. He didn't like how with her there was no privacy.
"Yes – this, whatever it was..." Ethan waved his hand to Kiya, "was just an illusion, but we have our destination at least".
"If it's a trap, they want us to go there. Whoever sent the trackers..." Charlotte frowned.
"They will be prepared for us".
"We're going to walk into the trap?" Ian asked.
"On our terms". Ethan looked from one to the next and smiled. "I'll admit that this was a little too orchestrated. These three were no match for us, yet they were sent anyway, without any other alterations to aid them. They know how to get to Nicholls' estate and they had this... adapted memory of Elmhirst. They were bait. Now we can ignore our first concrete lead or we can face this together, without risking the younger students. It'll be just us against them. We can end this. On our terms".
"And this... Elmhirst... memory?" Desmarais asked.
"Two options – either Kiya's stolen alteration is being put to use, planting false memories in their head, which confirms The Mimic is our villain..." Ethan offered.
"Or Freya's alteration is being used... The Mimic using it to impersonate Elmhirst," Wallace added.
Ethan laughed. "Did you think of that one all by yourself?"
"You were taking too long".
"So The Mimic... whoever he is, is behind this? An experienced soldier with an unfathomable number of alterations?" Ian asked raising an eyebrow. "Sounds like fun".
Ethan smiled and shook his head. "Get some rest. We leave at dawn".
"What do we do with the trackers?" Cary asked, as Desmarais and Wallace moved to the edge of the clearing, sitting down and talking animatedly. James supressed his irritation at Desmarais' presence and focused his attention back to Ethan.
"Set them free. Kiya wipe their minds of Kingston, of their roles in this, of us and we can just leave them go... let them have a normal life".
James frowned as Kiya, Ian and Cary turned towards the captives, crossing the clearing. Was it that easy to have a normal life? To forget all the fear and worry? Kiya could them free of their current existence just like that?
"We'll need transportation," Ethan said, interrupting James' thoughts.
"Ian can sort that out," Charlotte muttered, her eyes fixed on the trackers. "It won't take us long – maybe a day and a half driving and we'll reach Nicholls'".
Ethan frowned. "Will you be okay going back there?"
Charlotte paused, looking back at him with cold disinterest. Her hand went to the inside of her arm, her slender fingers covering the skin as if it pained her. "If it ends this".
James could see the uncertainty in Ethan's expression. He could feel it in the air, a tension that clung to Charlotte at the mention of Nicholls.
"What happened in that place?"
Charlotte shook her head, clutching her hand to her chest. She turned without a word, crossing over to where the others were dealing with the trackers.
"What happened Ethan?" he asked.
Ethan glanced at Harris who just shrugged, his expression weary.
"When Charlotte left Kingston with Desmarais," Ethan whispered, "she was taken by one of the patrons – one of the worst patrons. This is where we're going. To his old house".
"What happened to her there?"
Ethan rubbed his stubble-covered chin. "They tried to break her in, get her thinking along their lines".
"How?" He couldn't stop the question from falling from his lips. He didn't think he wanted to know and he was sure Ethan didn't want to answer.
"They broke every bone in her body, only to heal them so they could break them all over again," Harris said.
James gritted his jaw to keep his outrage under control.
"What happened to them? The people who hurt her?"
"She killed them all, but not before they marked her as one of their own". Harris turned his own right arm out and indicated the inside. James glanced at Charlotte, who was still clutching her right arm to her chest.
"I couldn't heal that scar," he continued. "Or the memory of that place. She was lucky to escape with her life".
"And that's where we're going?"
"Yeah... Charlotte was right to think Nicholls would want The Mimic. He only ever wanted the rarest alterations".
"But you said she killed them all?"
"Sometimes alterations are hired out to others, or are away on business for their own patrons. He probably wasn't at the house when she destroyed the others".
James shook his head again feeling a fraud among these hardened soldiers. He glanced over at Charlotte. She chatted with Ian, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Cary had unbound the captives. They wavered on unsteady feet as he pushed them forward, towards the forest. Pausing on the edge of the clearing, Kiya placed her hand on each tracker, closing her eyes as she rid them of their links and memories to the cause they had so blindly followed. She stood back and the trackers began to walk into the forest, a new, purposeful expression written on their faces. They all watched their captives as the dark shadows beneath the trees swallowed them. They were starting again, a new life with no ties. A fresh beginning. James suddenly envied them. What would it feel like to walk away and not feel the need to look back? Not to worry about who they were or had been? What they had done? What they were yet to do?
"I'll take the first watch. Get some rest everybody," Ethan ordered, once more breaking in on James' thoughts. "We're out of here at dawn. You'll need your strength".
Desmarais and Wallace lay side by side, their whispered words lost to the night air. Ian planted a kiss on Kiya's cheek, a proud smile on his freckled face. Harris settled down with his satchel as a pillow, while Cary lay close to the smouldering remains of the fire, perhaps hoping to benefit from its remaining heat. And Ethan began to pace around the outskirts of the clearing, preparing for his vigil.
James sighed, his eyes wandering to Charlotte as she slipped down against the wall of the crumbling cabin, resting her head back against the stone walls. Without thinking about it, he moved towards her. He dropped down next to her, ensuring there was a friendly gap between them.
She didn't speak, but just stared at her hands. He reached towards her, taking her right hand in his and turning it over. The silver lines of F-N Owens caught in the moonlight. He traced it with his thumb. Charlotte exhaled, her head tilting until it rested against his shoulder.
"Did I cause this?"
"No," she breathed. "We were all left with scars". She reached up, resting her hand against the scarred hollow below his collarbone. He knew that scar. He didn't want to know its origin.
"Do you even recognise me anymore?" He felt her tense against him.
"Do you want me to recognise you?"
The question hung between them for a long moment. "I just... I don't want to disappoint you... any of you".
Charlotte lifted her head and met his gaze. "James, don't be ridiculous".
"I see how the others just fit in... how it's like Kiya was always here... her and O'Connell..."
"That's different. There was no real history there... just the hope of one. Kiya and Ian... well that's as new to him as it is to her. I think he thought he had lost her, before he told her how he felt and... well, maybe with us there's just too much I remember and you don't... Maybe it feels like there are too many expectations". She paused. James was certain she was holding her breath. "But... I don't expect anything, James. I'm trying to... I just... I am trying". James closed his eyes and exhaled. He didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't want to voice what was going on in his head.
"Why did I punch Desmarais?" he said at last.
Charlotte relaxed a little, her head still resting on his shoulder. "Because he loved me. Because I was taken by Nicholls when he was supposed to be taking care of me, when you trusted him to keep me safe".
"Did you love him?"
Charlotte fell silent. He didn't need her to answer. Her silence said enough. How could he even trust her? Maybe he hadn't trusted her before this... His head hurt with all the unknown versions of stories, of his own life.
"Do you still love him?"
To his surprise she laughed, shaking her head in a sort of weary way. "No – not like you".
"Did I know this before?"
"Yes".
He sighed, tracing his finger over her scarred arm. She was right, there was too much he didn't remember, too much he didn't know about her, about himself. He thought back to the dream she had shown him, the memory of their kiss beneath the trees at Kingston. That James had been certain. Though now he felt he was only trying to be certain, because that's what they wanted. And he couldn't be certain, not now, not like this when they were about to ambush the people who stole his memories and made him a pawn in a game he didn't even know how to play.
Charlotte's head was heavy against his shoulder, her breathing deeper, slower.
"I don't know how to love you," he breathed. "I don't... know if I want to". Charlotte didn't respond, her slowed breathing, already a sign that she had drifted to sleep.
"I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be". He kissed the top of her head, breathing deep the smell of honey and the forest that clung to her hair. He wished he missed her. He wished he missed her smile and her eyes. Some part of him even wished he loved her like they said he did, like the James in the dream had.
He sighed, resting his cheek against the top of her head. He couldn't deny it. He liked her company. He liked her, but he couldn't be sure if it was how he really felt, or if he had just convinced himself that this was where he belonged. It was confusing. He felt forced to be something he wasn't and that wasn't fair. Not to him, and certainly not to her. A residual feeling. That's all Charlotte Owens was to him now.
Maybe, he thought, as his eyelids grew heavy, he would explain that to her once he woke.
Thanks everybody for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to what's to come next! I think writing this has sorted out a few things in my head regarding the ending to this book! But in any case! I feel the end is just in reach of us now! Please vote and comment and spread the words about this story! I'll get the next update to you as soon as I possibly can! Sorcha x