I certainly wasn’t about to jump again.
Instead, I shot to my knees as I faced the approaching drone.
I stopped trying to stuff that I-might-puke feeling down, and embraced it, along with the shaky, sweaty dizziness that threatened to engulf me. Everything that came with the wave of sheer dread consuming me. I tapped into it. I used it.
I wasn’t even sure this would work, but it wasn’t like we had a lot of options at this point. That aircraft up there was closing in on us. We were running out of time. When I narrowed my eyes and felt the zip of tension burst along my spine, stars erupted in my periphery.
“Down!” Simon yelled, reaching over and yanking at me.
I’d already seen why, though. Something was coming straight at us . . . besides that drone thing, I mean. I had to assume it was some sort of missile, which meant we must be within range, as Simon had pointed out.
But Simon hadn’t seen what I had right before he’d grabbed for me. The part where that drone had wobbled, its course slightly altered. And even though I couldn’t say for sure that I’d been the one responsible, I couldn’t say I hadn’t been either.
Regardless of the reason, that slight alteration must have been enough, and the missile had been off course also. Just enough.
It was close, though.
There was a bright flash when the missile struck the rocky ground, followed immediately by a shock-wave explosion. Black smoke billowed around orange flames that expanded in every direction. It was so close I could taste bits of sand, dirt, and fuel. It took several seconds for me to blink away fragments of debris from my lashes, but when I did, I flipped back around and saw that the aircraft had regained its trajectory.
I concentrated again and wondered if I even had it in me to do what needed to be done. That thing up there was a gazillion times bigger than any library book or T-shirt. But this wasn’t just fear I was channeling. I was learning the feel of this ability. I knew the way it moved through me and how to draw it out.
Biting my lip, I dug deep, tracking the drone for one . . . two . . . three seconds, less than one full breath.
It wasn’t kinda like being on the mound; it was exactly like that. That same level of intensity. What coach and my dad called single-mindedness. Until there was only me and the drone. Nothing else.
Then I unleashed everything I could muster. I let it pour through me, out of me, and I released it—whatever it was—at that thing that threatened us, the same way I had when Agent Truman had threatened my dad, the same way I had when Simon had made me mad in the library.
I meant to send it swerving, to divert it so far off its flight path, it couldn’t find us again.
And at first I thought I’d done just that, as it wavered.
But I’d misjudged my own strength, just like when I’d tossed that softball to Tyler, and it didn’t just shift off course. My stomach plummeted as it went hurtling, rotating, spinning out of control. My hand covered my mouth as I shot all the way to my knees, trying to track its trajectory.
“What the . . . ?” I tried to say, but nothing came out of my mouth, not even a breath.
Everything slowed as I watched the drone’s nosedive descent. Behind me, Simon slammed on the brakes just as the aircraft slammed into the earth.
The blast was more massive than the missile’s had been—the flames wider and hotter, the black smoke greasier as it choked me, and the caustic odor singed my nose hairs.
“I take it that was a mistake,” Simon said blandly.
I tried to nod, but I could hardly swallow. I felt paralyzed.
“I’d like to see what you can do on purpose,” Tyler threw in.
A tightness spread across my chest, and then I turned to Simon. “We have to go back. We have to see if the pilot . . . if anyone . . .” I knew it was useless, but I couldn’t stop myself from needing to know. “. . . survived.”
Simon half smiled, a small, wry smile. “Kyra, that was a drone. An unmanned drone. There was no one flying it.”
If I’d been standing, my legs surely would have buckled. As it was, I let my forehead drop against the back of the seat as a shaky laugh escaped my lips. “Are you kidding me? Oh my god, I thought . . . I thought I killed someone.”
But it was Tyler who interrupted my internal cheers. “The question is, how did it know where to find us?”
I looked to Simon. “They must’ve known where we were going. Did you tell Thom?”
“No, only Griffin and Jett.”
I thought about Griffin, and the way I’d once suspected her. But there was no way. She hated the Daylighters, and her father even more, for what they’d done to her.
That left . . . “You don’t think . . . ?” My mouth went dry just thinking it. “Could it have been Jett?”
“No way. Not Jett,” Simon insisted. “You don’t know him. Not like I do.”
I frowned. “How do you know him? I mean, I know he wasn’t at Blackwater with you and Willow, so where did you meet him?”
Simon ran his hand over his head. “When me and Willow found him, Jett was in Nevada.” Simon grinned. “He was all alone. The three of us started our camp together. I’d trust him with my life.”
I glanced to Tyler. “Who, then? How?” I chewed the inside of my cheek as my eyes nervously drifted downward, to check the time.
And my stomach dropped.
Thom.
Thom was the traitor. Thom had been feeding Agent Truman and the NSA’s Daylight Division information all along. It was probably the reason he hadn’t let Natty go with us to the Tacoma facility without him—he didn’t want us getting her captured.