The Institute called them their Angelic Legion. They expected a few hundred children, gifted with talents beyond nature, properly trained, would be able to turn back the forces of hell when the End Times came. Ky Monroe saw them for what they were years ago–a cult masquerading as something good, something holy, something that would help and not harm. Matthew Thatcher recognized them for what they were, too–a dangerous organization not above murder and violence to achieve their aims, and together with Ky worked tirelessly to make sure the organization died–and when an explosion ripped through the Institute’s main facility in the midwest years ago, Ky dared believe they might have succeeded. But when an old friend reappears with a story to tell, Ky realizes exactly how wrong she’s been–and that time is running out to save the people she loves…
When All’s Said and Done is narrated by Kyle Anne Monroe (alias Kyrie Thatcher), a college student who escaped from the Institute as a teenager. It is the major work planned for the Lost Angels Chronicles, which shares a universe (and many characters) with the UNSETIC Files (and Court of Twelve works like The Man Who Made Monsters, a project I’m working on with L.P. Loudon).
Four
“Ky.”
I winced, pausing on the stairs as I started to trudge up toward my room. I couldn’t look at her. “Yeah, Reece?”
“Tell me,” she said quietly.
I glanced back at her. She leaned against the banister at the foot of the stairs.
“Tell me everything.”
My hands curled into fists. I can’t. I can’t, I won’t. I can’t. I shook my head.
“Ky, please. If this is what’s been eating you up inside for as long as we’ve known each other, I think it’s time you talked to someone about it.”
“You don’t need that in your head, Reece,” I murmured. I don’t even need it in mine. But it’s been there, sure as the sunrise, for years. I try not to let it bother me anymore.
Her voice was like a whip. “Stop trying to protect me and just talk, Ky.”
She wasn’t going to let me win this one. I sagged and turned around, sighing and slumping down to sit on the stairs. She sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. I shook my head a little.
“I’ve kept it all a secret for too long, Reece. It’s hard.” Locked it away where it couldn’t hurt me anymore—where I thought it couldn’t hurt me anymore.
She shook her head a little. “I’m your friend. You need to let it out before it rots you from the inside out.”
I exhaled and put my face in my hands. “I’ve just been trying to let it go,” I muttered. “Up until yesterday, I thought it was over. Thought they were dead, thought I’d lost—lost them, lost our little private war. Thought I’d lost everything.”
“But you kept that deck.”
I shook my head. “It was the only thing I had from him, and I love him.” I mopped at my eyes. Why was I crying? He wasn’t dead. We still had a chance. I still had a chance. The pain of loss bubbled up, hollowing me out. “Until I have him back, it’s all that I’ve got except for the memories I can barely hang on to.” I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “That’s what hurts the most. That the memories are fading. I remember the pain, but it keeps getting harder and harder to remember his face.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”
“Years,” I murmured. “Not since I escaped, except for dreams. Our dreams. And those stopped until last night…” My voice trailed away. I scrubbed at my eyes with the heel of my hand. Stop crying. It’s almost over, so stop crying! “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him. I knew I’d missed him, but I didn’t realize how much.”
She shook her head a little. “Ky, how does it happen? How…how did they get you? You said it’s some kind of cult, but how’d you end up a part of it? Were your parents in it?”
I choked and shuddered. “No. No, not at all. My parents never would have let them get their claws into me, or into them. Was a car accident, both of my parents died. That part of the story I told you, that was true. Except I got kicked into the foster care system, and that’s how the Institute got me. They just…plucked me up and out of the system. Same kind of thing happened to Ridley. Happened to a lot of us, I guess. After all, what were we? A bunch of throwaway kids with no families to worry about them. Kids like Hadrian and Timothy were different. They had families. Timothy had Matthew. Hadrian had his family…I still don’t know the whole story there. He never wanted to talk about it.” I took a deep breath. “I still don’t know how they figured out who had gifts and who didn’t, to decide who to take, but I never saw anyone come in who didn’t have something—some kind of talent.”
“Talent?”
I grimaced. “Gifts, psychic or otherwise. Things that made us ‘special.’ Hadrian’s a seer, like I said. Clairvoyant, a lot of the time with precognitive features. Ridley can literally make himself unseen.”
“And you?”
“I can step outside of time.”
She stiffened for a moment, staring at me like I was crazy. I looked down at my hands.
“I know, sounds like I’m off my nut. But it’s true. I try not to do it anymore, partially because I’m afraid of getting caught at it. On some level, the paranoia never quite went away, y’know?”
“I guess,” she said slowly, softly. “…is that how you sometimes make it to Commons in the morning before I ever can, even though I know I left before you did?”
I grimaced and nodded. “That’s exactly it.” A faint pounding rose in my temples, behind my eyes. “Like I said, I try not to do it at all when I can help it. But sometimes it’s hard when you know you’re going to be late to class and you can get around it, y’know?” I sighed and leaned back against the stairs, staring at the ceiling. “I try to be normal. There’s a lot of times I wish I was normal. But I’m not and it sucks sometimes.”
“And the rest of the time?” She asked softly.
I managed a wry smile. “I remember it’s who I am, and that I’m this way for a reason, even if I don’t know what it is.”
Reece gave me a little hug. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head slightly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Reece. You didn’t do anything to me. They did. All you’re asking me to do is talk about it.” I sighed quietly. “And while I might not want to talk about it, I have to. If I don’t, it’s always going to have power over me and that isn’t something I want.” Especially once I have him back. When that happens, he’s going to need all of me—everything I can give and more.
She nodded a little. “You know we’d never let anything ever happen to you, right?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it. Really, I do—more than you know. You guys—all of you guys here—have been the first people since Matthew that I’ve been able to really trust.”
“Except with this,” she said softly.
I nodded, suppressing a wince. “Until now, anyway. You can see why I didn’t tell you, though, right? Why I kept it all inside?”
“Oh, without a doubt,” she said. She leaned forward against her knees, sitting there next to me on the stairs. “Are you going to tell Marie?”
My nose wrinkled. “I don’t know if she could handle it yet. Maybe after I’ve got him back and she’s got a reason to ask a lot of questions.”
Reece stared at me for a moment before she smiled faintly, nodding. “Probably a good idea.”
“You really think so?”
“Maybe.” She grinned and nudged me. “I promised not to press you, Ky. It should be your decision to make, who to bring in on this and when. Just promise me something.”
“All right. What am I promising you?”
“If you need help, you’ll ask for it. Even if you think you shouldn’t. Let us decide how far down the rabbit hole we want to go. That much, at least, should be our choice.”
I stared at her for a long moment, worried and conflicted, before I finally nodded. “All right. I can do that.”
She nodded firmly, getting up. “Good. I’m going to finish reading my book. G’night.”
I watched her jog up the stairs toward her room. “Night, Reece.”
I leaned back, rested my head against the lip of the landing and listened to the quiet whirr of the air conditioning and the crickets I could hear over its white noise.
Let them decide, huh? I frowned at the ceiling. Easier said than done.
After a few minutes, I sighed and followed her up to bed.
