I have no time to register my shock, or to ask Nazeera when on earth she was going to tell me she had the power to turn herself invisible, so I do the only thing I can, in the moment.
I nod, the movement almost imperceptible.
“Kenji is getting Ella onto a plane. I’m going to wait for you just outside this door,” she says. “Do you think you can make it? If you go invisible in front of everyone, they’ll be on to us, and it’d be better if they think you’re just trying to run.”
Again, I nod.
“All right then. I’ll see you out there.”
I wait a second or two, and then I head for the door. “Hey—” Ibrahim bellows.
I hesitate, turning back slightly, on my heel. “Yes?”
“Where do you think you’re going?” he says. He pulls a gun from the inside of his jacket and points it at me.
“I have to use the bathroom.”
Ibrahim doesn’t laugh. “You’re going to wait here until Max gets back.
And then we decide what we’re going to do with you.”
I tilt my head at him. The gun he’s pointing at me looks suspiciously like one of the guns I stole from my father earlier.
Not that it matters.
I take a quick breath. “I’m afraid that’s not how this is going to work,” I say, attempting a smile. “Though I’m sure we’ll all be seeing each other soon, so I wouldn’t worry about missing me too much.”
And then, before anyone has a chance to protest, I run for the door, but not before Ibrahim fires his weapon.
Three times. In close range.
I fight back the urge to cry out as one of the bullets shoots clean through my calf, even as the pain nearly takes my breath away.
Once I’m on the other side of the door, Nazeera pulls her invisibility over
me. I don’t make it far before I take a sharp breath, slumping against the wall. “Shit,” she says. “Did you get shot?”
“Obviously,” I bite out, trying to keep my breathing even.
“Dammit, Warner, what the hell is wrong with you? We have to get back to the plane in the next fifteen minutes, or they’re going to leave without us.”
“What? Why would—”
“Because I told them to. We have to get Ella out of here no matter what. I can’t have them waiting around for us and risk getting killed in the process.”
“Your sympathy is truly heartwarming. Thank you.” She sighs. “Where did you get shot?”
“In my leg.” “Can you walk?”
“I should be able to in just a minute.”
I hear her hesitate. “What does that mean?”
“If I manage to live long enough, maybe I’ll tell you.”
She’s unamused. “Can you really start running in just a minute?”
“Oh, now it’s running? A moment ago you were asking if I could walk.” “Running would be better.”
I offer her a bitter laugh. It’s hard from this distance, but I’ve been drawing on my father’s new ability, harnessing it as best I can from where I am. I feel the wound healing, slowly regenerating nerves and veins and even a bit of bone, but it’s taking longer than I’d like.
“How long is the flight back?” I say. “I can’t remember.” “We’ve got the jet, so it should only take about eight hours.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I don’t think I can survive eight hours with an open wound.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t give a shit. I’m giving you two more minutes before I carry you out of here myself.”
I grunt in response, focusing all of my energy on drawing up the healing powers into my body. I’ve never tried to do something like this while wounded, and I didn’t realize how demanding it was, both emotionally and physically. I feel drained. My head is throbbing, my jaw aching from the intense pressure I’ve used to bite back the pain, and my leg feels like it’s on fire. There’s nothing pleasant about the healing process. I have to imagine that my father is on the move—probably searching for me with Ibrahim—because harnessing his power is harder than any of the others I’ve tried to take.
“We’re leaving in thirty seconds,” Nazeera says, a warning in her voice. I grit my teeth.
“Fifteen.” “Shit.”
“Did you just swear?” Nazeera says, stunned. “I’m in an extraordinary amount of pain.”
“All right, that’s it, we’re out of time.”
And before I manage to get a word in, she picks me up, off the ground. And we’re in the air.
