Characters/Pairings. ZachCammie with GrantBex, JonasLiz, PrestonMacey, and JoeRachel
Disclaimer: the Gallagher Girls Series © Ally Carter
Drawn By Gravity
By sakuracherish814
A notebook.
All she left behind was a notebook.
No address. No letter. No small sign that they could use to trace her down. It was as if she disappeared out of thin air. And what was the worst part? Despite the watertight security, despite the hundred or so other Gallagher Girls in the halls, despite the CIA legends and elite spies as teachers, despite all the odds, she slipped away unnoticed right out from underneath them.
Zach traced his finger faintly over the cotton sheets. Her bed was cold and perfectly untouched.
He shouldn't have given the idea to her—should've known that she would only think of their safety rather than her own.
He should've been paying more attention to her.
There was a trembled cry, and he'd temporarily forgotten that he wasn't alone.
In all honesty, he'd expected Liz to be the one to really break down. The fact that it was Bex who had cried hysterically, trembling on her knees because her legs could no longer support her, was even scarier. Liz closed her eyes, tears streaking her face, pressing her face into Macey's shoulder.
His eyes locked with Macey's. He expected to see rage. He expected to see murder behind her eyes.
He didn't expect to see sympathy.
But it was there.
Her eyes were slightly puffy and red and filled with tears, but they were filled with sympathy and sorrow and something else he couldn't place.
Looking into her eyes, things began to make sense—why no one tried hurting him, or kicked him out. Why, instead, they seemed to be even more hospitable towards him.
Rachel was nearly losing Joe, but now she lost her daughter. Abby lost her only niece. Bex and Liz and Macey had lost their best friend.
But they knew how he loved her, how she was the only source of something real that made sense in his world.
And it didn't take much to realize that he had lost her as well.
"Gone?"
Tina's voice shook with disbelief.
Around her, the rest of the junior girls of Gallagher Academy were perfectly silent—either paled with horror and shock or already watering with tears.
That one word made Bex choke back a sob, made Liz close her eyes and inhale a shallow breath, made Macey whimper softly. It made Rachel shift uncomfortably and Abby flinch. "She's…" Rachel began, but the words formed a lump in her throat. She took a deep breath and tried again. "She's… yes, she's gone."
Zach's clenched his fist even tighter, his knuckles turning white.
Surprisingly, it was Abby who attempted to comfort him—who placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Why is she gone? Why did she just leave?" Eva asked, her voice trembling.
"It doesn't matter why."
The words were out of his mouth before he knew it.
Rachel's eyes lingered on Zach as he spoke through clenched teeth. "We will get her back. We will bring her home."
"Mama, Dad." Liz's voice was as soft as a whisper; she was surprised her parents had heard her through the faint static of the phone call.
"Lizzie, what's wrong, sweet pea? You sound worried," her mother asked.
"Shouldn't you be on a plane home soon?" her father asked in the background before being shushed by her mother.
Macey placed her hand on Liz's shoulder as her parents argued lightly (and rather pointlessly) on the other end of the line. Liz closed her eyes again, a fresh set of tears dotting her eyelashes. Macey put her arms around her shoulders and pulled her close so that Liz's head rested against her collar bone.
"Mama, Dad." The argue cut off abruptly. "I can't come home yet."
"Can't come home?" Her mother's voice sounded frantic.
"Sweet pea, is something—"
"No," she lied, cutting them off before they could jump to conclusions. "No, no. I'm perfectly fine." But my friend isn't.
"Then why can't you come home?" he father asked.
"It's…It's my best friend. Cammie." Everyone in the room seemed to flinch at the name.
"Cammie? Yes, I remember you mentioning her a lot," her father said, trying to connect the name to one of her many stories. "Sweet girl, right?"
"Very sweet. And she…well, she kind of needs us to be with her right now," she told him. "She's going through a rough time. I don't know how long it'll be but she—"
"You can stay, Lizzie."
A pause. "Mama?"
"Be there for your friend, sweet pea. We trust you. Just promise you'll call every day. Or every other day, at the least."
Liz looked up at Rachel, who nodded.
"Definitely. I love you guys," she whispered.
"We love you, too, Lizzie," her father said. "Be safe. We'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too."
"Are you sure you don't want to make the call yourself?"
Macey looked up and into her headmistress's eyes before quickly averting them. "It won't matter who makes the call—usually someone else picks up and takes a message." She hoped she sounded as indifferent as she wanted to. "Besides, they'll take you more seriously than they will me."
Rachel smiled faintly. "I think you ought to talk to your parents. It may be the last time for awhile to speak to them."
She didn't move.
Rachel sighed and dialed the number. They picked up on the third ring.
"Hello. Is this Mr. and Mrs. McHenry?" A pause. "It is? Hi. This is Rachel Morgan, the headmistress of Gallagher Academy, your daughter's school. I was just calling to say—"
But then she paused and smiled at the hand Macey slowly extended towards the phone.
"Your daughter would like to speak with you."
"Are you lost?" The question itself should not have been a hard one.
And yet, Cammie found herself looking up at the boy who was trying to flirt with her and not having an answer.
Was she lost? If lost meant not knowing where she was, then no, she wasn't lost. She knew where she was: Venice, Italy. Why? She wasn't sure. When you don't know what you're running from, you go anywhere and everywhere. But if lost meant there was an emptiness, that she no longer knew where she was supposed to go—then yes, she was hopelessly lost.
"No," she lied. "I'm not lost."
The boy smiled at her. "Are you alone?"
"Yes."
He smiled, then more hopefully asked her, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Zach.
Zach's face stared back at her in her mind.
What did a boyfriend mean?
To her, the title of boyfriend didn't have an importance. The first and only boyfriend she had, she had to lie to. She had to have his memory compromised.
Boyfriend meant an official relationship—an official lover. She didn't have that. But she did have Zach. Zach, who was a complete mystery to her. Zach, who she seemed to be bound to by something more powerful than gravity. Zach, who she, not until this moment, was completely sure she loved more than her own life.
So she smiled at the boy who stood beside her and told him, "Yeah, I do."
He was still sleeping. No one knew when he would wake up; if he would ever wake up.
But yet, Rachel remained at his bedside.
She came in the early evening and did not leave until the sun was already up that following morning. Abby would bring her food she would not eat and a blanket she would not use. Madame Dabney and Mr. Mosckowitz and Mr. Smith, as well as Bex and Liz and Macey and the other girls, all came and went.
But she was the only one who stayed.
Her eyes fluttered open, blinking until the room came back into focus, and the first thing she saw when she lifted her head was her sister.
Abby walked over to her side, pulling her blanket from her lap and draping it around her sister's shoulders.
"I think a bed would be more comfortable," she said softly.
Rachel closed her eyes. "It wouldn't."
Abby combed her hands through Rachel's hair. "You miss Matthew?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"Every day," Rachel whispered.
"You still love him."
"Of course."
"And you love Joe."
Her eyes flew open. Her lower lip quivered.
She may have known over a dozen languages, but she didn't know what to say.
Abby looked into her sister's eyes—saw the confusion and the sorrow and the fear in them—and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tightly.
Rachel was strong—she had to be. She was beautiful and intelligent and clever; but her most admirable feature was that she was strong. To say she never cried would be wrong. She cried when she lost Matthew. She cried when she nearly lost Abby to that bullet. She cried when she nearly lost Cammie from The Circle. She cried when she thought she lost Joe from the explosion.
Did she love Joe? Of course. He was Matthew's best friend.
But she knew Abby didn't mean it like that.
"Yeah. I do."
"Grant? Jonas?" Zach breathed, pausing in the foyer as he saw the two familiar faces walking through the door, smiling at him.
"Hey, Z," Grant greeted as he came to stand in front of his best friend.
He looked to Madame Dabney, who managed the faintest of smiles at him. "Rachel discussed with Dr. Steve and asked for them to be here," she explained. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "She… You look like you really needed your friends with you. The girls have each other, but you are—were… You were alone."
"But not anymore."
Jonas was standing on his other side, his hand on Zach's shoulder, holding it firmly.
They were guys. They were trained assassins. They were drilled by their professors and thought of by the world as troubled juvenile delinquents with nowhere else to run.
But they were still human—they still had emotions.
And, whether or not they would come to admit it, Zach needed his best friends, and Grant and Jonas needed to be with Zach.
"We'll bring her back, Z," Grant told him.
Jonas nodded. "We're here for you."
Liz couldn't sleep.
She knew she should've have been wandering the hallways, but she couldn't sleep. She was just in a large shirt and flannel shorts and a thin cotton robe, and was shuddering against the cold night that might as well have been the arctic tundra, but she didn't want to go back into bed. She didn't want to close her eyes and picture Cammie and wake up with even more tears. She just couldn't.
Tires. She heard the sound of tires. It brought her out of her morbid thoughts, and she heard faint footsteps followed by faint voices.
She should've hid. She should've run away. She should've done anything but just stand there and wait for them.
But that's what she did.
And she found herself gasping. She found herself thinking she was dreaming.
"Jonas?"
There may have been three Blackthourne Boys who'd rounded the hallway, headed in her direction, but she only saw one.
"Liz?" Jonas asked back, his voice a little louder than hers—more awake. "What are you doing up?"
She ignored his question. "What are you doing here?"
When he didn't answer, she looked to Zach.
"They're here for me," he answered quietly. "Rachel called them here. They're here to help."
"I…" She didn't know what to say.
But she didn't have to.
She spotted a silhouette behind them in the mouth of the hallway and instantly tensed. They saw her expression, and turned around. Jonas stepped closer to her, a hand clasping around her wrist. "It's Joe." That voice—it belonged to Dr. Smith. She'd recognize it anywhere. "It's Joe," he repeated. "Joe Solomon is waking up."
Bex was one of the toughest girls he had ever met—one of the toughest spies, too.
But as she lay in her bed, kicking her legs, entangling them in the sheets, he has never seen her so confused, so panicked, so afraid. Her breathing was heavy, her chest falling up and down. She murmured unintelligibly, her eyebrows furrowing together, her fingers gripping at her comforter like a vice.
A nightmare—she was having a nightmare.
Then she gasped, bolting upright, extending a hand out as she tried to grab at the darkness. He touched her arm lightly.
She gasped again, her hand instinctively flying towards the panic button before his hand caught her wrist.
"It's just me, Bex."
She stared. And stared. And stared.
"Grant?" It came out breathless.
A faint smile. "It's been awhile, British Bombshell."
Despite the situation, her paled complexion flushed at his comment. Her eyes darted to the three empty beds. "Where're Liz and Macey?" she demanded.
"With Zach and Jonas," he answered. "At the infirmary."
Her eyes flew to his. "What?"
"It's Joe. He's starting to wake up."
The first thing he saw as his eyes flickered open was the darkness. The second thing was Rachel.
He turned his head faintly to get a better look. Sure enough, it was her who was sitting in a plastic chair at his bedside. Her clothes were a little wrinkled, and her hair a little messy, and her eyes a little watery. But she still looked beautiful and strong. And, as she broke into a smile, he could no longer feel the ache of his body, or the burn of his injuries, or the pain in his bones.
He just felt relieved.
She quickly, but as gingerly as possible, wrapped her arms around him. She didn't whimper. She didn't quiver.
But he felt faint drops of what could only be her tears as they fell onto the back of his neck.
So he wrapped his arms as best as he could around her waist, rubbing her back soothingly. He caught sight of Abby by the door, who just smiled faintly at him.
As Rachel pulled back, she looked at him, still smiling, her eyes wet with tears, and kissed his forehead. "Good morning."
He chuckled faintly.
"Good morning."
Of course she expected The Circle to chase her. She just didn't expect The Circle to have taken a month to track her.
She slipped the sunglasses onto the top of her head, squinting through the sudden brightness as she stared out of the airport as a flock of birds flew against the bright blue sky overhead. Perhaps she really was better at this spy thing than she had ever thought. Maybe there was some truth to the spy genetics theory.
Or maybe she was just good at hiding when she didn't want to be caught.
The airport was fairly crowded as families traveled to and fro. The temperature was that of a perfect summer day. The buzz of summer hung in the atmosphere around her.
So she just smiled along with the crowd and headed towards her gate, a typical passenger set out to enjoy herself.
Where to next?
They stood in the foyer as the limousine pulled up to the front and Rachel greeted the two passengers inside with a longing hug before leading them through the doors. "Dad! Mum!" Bex said softly as she ran up to her parents and threw her arms around them. They hugged her back fiercely.
"We're going to bring her back safe and sound," her mother told her, combing her fingers through her daughter's hair before kissing her forehead.
Bex smiled faintly but didn't answer. She had heard the phrase so many times, she wondered if she should start believing it.
"Zachary Goode," Abe Baxter breathed, staring straight at the boy. "Who are your friends?"
Despite everything, Zach smiled a grim smile.
"Grant Davies and Jonas Evans," Rachel answered instead. "I asked them to be here."
"They're friends, Dad," Bex reassured. "Don't worry about it."
Abe nodded but was not convinced.
Grace looked to Rachel. "I—We heard…We heard about…Joe," she said cautiously, hesitantly. "Is he alright?"
"A little banged up but other than that I'm in good health," a deep voice joined the conversation. Joe Solomon stood at the edge of the foyer.
"Hello Grace, Abe. How are things?"
Running.
She had to keep running.
The night was dark and cold. Rain poured violently from the clouds overhead. Wind howled and whipped all around her. She knew that in her condition—she surveyed a gash on her left thigh, a smaller one on her right arm, a couple of bruises, and possible a sprained wrist—she couldn't outrun them much longer. She had to keep running, but she couldn't.
She saw the blinding light of the headlights advancing behind her, and it was only a matter of seconds that a car flew past her, swerving around. She stopped.
Five—she counted five silhouettes emerging from that one van.
Her fist instinct was to back away, to turn around and run away again, but she couldn't will her body to do it.
It was then she realized her gashes and bruises and sprained wrist weren't throbbing with pain anymore. It was less intense. In fact, her entire body felt numb. It didn't even seem cold anymore. She wondered if this was her body's way of telling her it was the end.
Then the sound of a gun firing shattered the air. It was a lot closer than she expected, and it came from behind her.
She saw one of the silhouettes go down.
What?
"Back off," a deep, booming voice yelled, also behind her.
She wanted to turn around and see who it was. But again, she couldn't will her body to move.
More firing. In seconds, the five silhouettes fell to the ground. Were they dead? She couldn't tell. Her vision was blurring. Her head felt light.
An arm wrapped itself around her waist, and her first instinct was to lash back, but her movements were intercepted before she could really perform them. That same deep, booming voice whispered into her ear. "Don't be alarmed. I'm a friend."
Before she could respond, she felt a blow to her gut.
Her vision blackened.
"The Circle found her!"
All heads snapped up. Liz stood in the doorway, her breathing labored, hunched over slightly, gripping to a piece of paper in her hand like a vice. Jonas appeared at her side only seconds later, about to help her into a chair, but she shook her head and threw the paper onto the desk. "They've been tracing her this whole time."
"What?" Zach demanded.
"And they have her?" Macey asked just as fiercely.
"I don't think so," Liz said. "Look at all the locations."
They stared at the list. Toronto to Beijing. Beijing to Moscow. Moscow to Venice. Venice to Sydney.
"Where is she going?" Grant asked.
Bex's eyes widened. "She doesn't know."
All eyes were on her.
"Come on, guys, think about it," Bex said. "She's running from them—hiding. The bigger and more unpredictable the leaps—"
"The harder the chase," Liz finished. "At least we know that she won't be easily caught by The Circle."
"Or by us," Zach reminded.
Grant sighed. "So how do we find her?"
"We go to the place we'd least expect to find her."
All eyes looked over at the doorway. "Headmistress Morgan…"
"Better get packing, girls and boys," Abby said, folding her arms over her chest. "We're heading to London."
The face that stared back at her was not one she recognized. In her scenario, this was the best news she'd heard in a long time. Her reflection had fair skin, brown eyes, deep scarlet hair, and a beauty mark under her right eye. Cautiously, she extended her hand towards the mirror. Her reflection mimicked. She pressed her fingertips to the cold glass. This might work.
"This will work," a voice said, and she turned around to stare into the face of her savior. "I don't even recognize you."
She shrugged lightly. "Why did you help me back there?"
He smiled at her. "Still fishing for answers, I see."
"Still avoiding my questions, I see."
"Touché."
She didn't answer.
"The disguise will only go so far," he warned her, then, with another smile, added, "of course, you already know that."
Again, she didn't respond. She simply narrowed her eyes lightly at him.
"I've provided you with enough cash to keep this game up for several lifetimes," he said, still not dropping his smile. "That should be enough, should it?"
"Why are you helping me?" she demanded again.
He laughed this time. "So persistent."
"Do I know you?"
"If you knew me, Cameron, dear," he reminded, "then we wouldn't be having this conversation."
She spoke through gritted teeth. "How am I associated with you?"
"You aren't," he admitted. "But you are deeply associated with my son."
She looked at him.
He was smiling again.
"Has Zachary ever told you that his father is still alive?"
London was beautiful this time of year.
Though, considering what had happened here only months ago, and the reason why they were here now, it was not as easy to find it beautiful now.
Even for Bex.
"Do you think we'll ever find her again?" she asked to the boy beside her. "Be honest with me."
They were all spread out around the park, waiting for a signal, a sign, a trace to follow. For something. None of them were quite sure yet. But, this boy seemed to be the only one who kept coming back to her, who decided to come along without hesitation.
"This is Cammie we're talking about," Grant reminded softly, so softly it was as if he was whispering. "She is very good at hiding when she doesn't want to be found."
As much as Bex wanted to deny this, it was true. It had to be true. If it had been any other agent, The Circle would've gotten them.
But it's already been six weeks since she first left. Cammie still hadn't been caught.
Bex sighed softly. "Things sure have changed, haven't they?"
"In some ways," Grant shrugged. Then he smiled faintly at her. "Is that a bad thing?"
He reached over and tucked some of her bangs behind her ear.
And just when he thought he'd never see Rebecca Baxter blush…
"Do you miss her?"
Liz chuckled lightly. "Do you really need to ask that?"
Jonas laughed as well. "I suppose not, but it's an interesting conversation starter."
"You should stick to clichés," she advised.
They shared a laugh.
She tore another piece of bread and tossed it towards the birds. Then she looked over at him and patted the space beside her on the bench.
He looked at her and smiled, stroking an imaginary beard as if he were contemplating if he should sit or not. She rolled her eyes. He laughed and sat down beside her, tearing a few pieces from the bread in her hands and tossing it to the birds as well.
"So," she began quietly, and he looked away from the birds and back at her. "Why are you and Grant here?"
He arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Why are you helping us find Cammie?" she asked. "You barely knew her."
He stared at her for a moment.
Then he laughed.
"What?" she asked defensively.
"First of all, Zach's our best friend," he told her. "And he loves her. We're not about to let her get away."
Liz broke into a smile, blushing slightly. "He really said he loves her?"
"You didn't hear it from me."
She put her hand over her heart. "How sweet." Then her smile widened a little more. "Are you going to tell me what you were going to say next?"
He gave her a look.
"You said first of all," she reminded. "Meaning there was more…right?"
He chuckled. "Good. That school of yours does teach you."
She hit his arm.
"The other reason is," he said, pausing dramatically, which made Liz roll her eyes and laugh, "You."
She stopped laughing. "What?" she breathed.
He shrugged.
"I wanted to see you again."
Preston Winters was not a boy who was easily surprised.
However, there was really no other word to describe how he felt when he waltzed into his presidential suite at the hotel, back from rendezvousing with a couple of his friends for lunch, and found a teenage girl sitting on one of the black leather wingback chairs with her legs thrown over the arm, her eyes glued onto a paperback novel (one of his, in fact) in her hands.
"Hey, Preston," she greeted without looking. "It's been awhile."
"I'll call hotel—"
"Save it," she cut him off, tossing his book onto the couch. She swung her legs off of the arm and stood up. "I won't be here long."
She expected him to yell, or to try to compromise her, or something else besides asking, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
Her lips curved upward into a smile. "You shouldn't."
"So I don't?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I just flew in from London and thought I'd drop by."
"You came from London?"
She chuckled. "I have a favor to ask you, Preston."
"How should I trust you if you won't tell me who you are?" he questioned.
"Smart boy." Then she nodded towards the book resting on the bed. "If you choose to do me a favor, you'll find something very interesting on page 121, 814, and 65—in that order."
"121, 814, 65?"
She smiled again. "Very good."
He looked cautiously between her and the book. "What's the favor?"
"A message."
"What kind of message?"
She shrugged again. "You'll see. It was nice seeing you again, Preston."
"Again," he said, turning to watch her as she walked past. She stopped at the door and turned look at him. "Do I know you?"
Her lips quirked upward into another smile as she rested her hand on the handle. "Maybe."
"Can you give me a hint?" he asked, almost childishly. The hints of a small smile were apparent on his face.
She was smiling wider now, her teeth pearly white against the light. "Perhaps you know my friend—Macey McHenry."
And with that, she was gone.
"That had to have been her," he muttered to himself. "But it didn't look like her. But then again…"
Her words replayed in his head.
Perhaps you know my friend—Macey McHenry.
His eyes fell on the book, which he had left lying on the bed right where it had landed when she'd tossed it. He hadn't dared to touch it since she'd left. In fact, he'd spent the a good hour or two after she'd left trying piece together who she was on such little evidence; in fact, only one piece of evidence: that name. Macey McHenry.
He hadn't seen or heard from either of them in months, not that he was truthfully expecting that much from them. Both of them seemed so secretive and hard to read.
"So, if she's friends with Macey," he continued murmuring to himself, "then that must've been…"
He snapped his fingers in the air, trying to remember.
He let out a frustrated sigh.
"Damn." He couldn't draw a particular name.
His eyes landed on the book for what must've been the thousandth time and, cautiously, he reached for it. Lightly, he flipped through the pages.
Page 121. Page 121. Page 121. Page 1—
He stopped.
Scrawled at the margin between the folds of page 121 and 122 was something handwritten. It was written in such a way where, if you weren't deliberately trying to look for something, you would've hardly noticed it. He turned the book on its side, squinting to read what it was.
'540-829-0914'
"A phone number?" he whispered.
Quickly, he looked around until he spotted a pen sitting on the nightstand. He uncapped it and copied the number over his wrist.
Then he put the pen back down and began flipping to page 814. When he got there, another message had been written in a similar fashion to the phone number.
'New York'
Again, he picked up the pen and copied the word onto his wrist.
He flipped closer to the front, and when he opened to page 65, something fell out of the book and onto the bed. Instinctively, he reached for it, about to pick it up, until he realized what it was. It was a photo. His hand froze, inches away from the wallet-sized picture that lay faced up at him. But it wasn't so much the photo itself that made him freeze.
It was the two girls smiling back up at him that nearly made his heart stop.
Macey sighed, plopping herself onto the hotel bed. They'd been in a bit of a rush, so the adults were booked one room while the kids were in another.
Everyone, however, was either too tired or too distracted to have seemed to mind. Jonas and Liz sat against the headboard of one of the beds, Liz nodding in and out, her head on Jonas's shoulder. Grant sat on the other bed talking across to Jonas, mostly about Blackthourne, but nothing interesting enough for her to have cared to eavesdrop. Bex sat on the bed with Grant, cross-legged, listening to her iPod. Zach sat in one of the chairs, scribbling on a notepad.
She felt her phone vibrate, catching her off guard. She couldn't imagine who would be texting her, especially at this time of night.
The message was from a phone number she didn't recognize. But, she opened it anyway.
'Call this number'
She blinked.
She hesitated, looking up. No one seemed to have been paying attention.
Stubbornly, but also curiously, she texted the person back.
'Who is this? How did you get this number?'
The reply came a few minutes later, and as soon as she opened it, she choked on air. All heads snapped in her direction.
"Mace, what is it?" Bex asked, alarmed, already getting off of the bed and heading for where she sat.
She blinked rapidly for a few seconds.
She was staring back a picture of her and Cammie, their arms wrapped around each other. She recognized it as the same one she had in her wallet amongst many others from Gallagher Academy. It was taken with a camera phone in somewhere that wasn't too lit, for the picture wasn't as clear as it should've been.
The message with the picture text read the same thing: 'Call this number'
"Do it," Bex whispered, suddenly hovering next to Macey, staring at her phone as were the others. Had she not been shocked, she would've been annoyed and claustrophobic.
She nodded, and then stood. Immediately, the backed away from her, giving her more space again. She took in a breath before hitting "dial."
It rang once. Twice. Then someone picked up.
"Macey McHenry?"
Macey's eyes widened. It couldn't be…
"Preston Winters?"
Everyone in the room froze.
"Good. So it was you."
Her mind raced. "Preston, how the hell did you get this number, and that photo of Cammie and—"
"Cammie!" he suddenly exclaimed into the phone, making her jump. "That's her name!"
"What do you mean by that?" Macey demanded.
"I think that was her who stopped by," he said. "But, it didn't look like her, and—"
"Preston, what the hell is going on?" Macey asked. She inhaled and exhaled slowly through gritted teeth, trying to calm herself.
"Cammie."
"What about her?"
"She stopped by—broke into my hotel suite in Florida—"
"Cammie was in Florida?"
Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths.
"Yeah, I'm positive it was her. She told me to call this number and deliver a message. She gave me that picture. That's how I figured out it was her, and this was your number."
Macey was on the verge of hyperventilation; whether or not it was because of Cammie or Preston, she wasn't sure.
"What was the message?"
"New York."
"What?"
"All she left was the word 'New York.' Trust me, I've been searching all over."
"New York," she repeated, looking to Zach and then to the others. "New York."
"New York?" they all seemed to mouth in confusion.
"I would ask what that is supposed to mean, but judging by Cammie's strange behavior, I assume I can't know."
For the first time ever, Macey felt a pang—a pang of having to keep a secret and not want to. "Preston, I—"
"Don't sweat it, Mace. You and Cammie have always seemed like you had your secrets—especially you. I get it. Don't worry."
Somehow, his attempt to comfort her made the guilt worse.
"I'm glad I found your number finally, though, if that's any compensation." A pause. "This is your number, right?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Oh. Well, sorry, I guess I—"
"Preston, I got to go, but I'll…" She paused. "I'll call you."
There was a moment of silence. "Okay." His tone didn't sound convinced.
Macey flinched at his tone, closing her eyes. "Preston—"
"Hey, Mace. Just thought I'd let you know since you're going to hang up on me and all—but I've missed you."
Her breathing froze, and it took Bex and Liz shaking her shoulders to get her to breathe again. She gulped. Hard. "I…" She closed her eyes, gripping her phone a little more tightly in her hand. What she said next didn't surprise her too much—what surprised her most is that she truly meant it.
"I've missed you, too, Preston."
"May I join you?"
Rachel turned around, finding herself staring into the face of Joe Solomon. He smiled at her. It was a small yet gentle smile, and perhaps what she needed. She exhaled, grinning a little herself; it was cold enough on the terrace that she could see her own breath. Her smile widened slightly as she saw the two iced drinks he held in his hands. It smelt of vodka and cranberry juice.
"Of course," she said, sitting up a little straighter as he settled into the seat beside her.
He extended a glass towards her. "You look like you could use something strong."
She arched an eyebrow. "You don't drink…"
"It was the kids' idea."
Her eyes widened, but he cut her off before she could question. "No, they're not having any. But I did take their advice."
She instantly relaxed and nodded more to herself, before smiling once more. She eyed the drink and gave in. "Sure. Might as well…"
He smiled a little before handing her the drink, which she took. "Atta girl."
She laughed before taking a sip.
"How have you been?" he asked quietly.
"I've felt better," she admitted. "It hasn't been the first time Cammie has gone on her own."
"She sure gives us a run for our money," he agreed, taking a sip.
"She's got so much of Matthew in her," Rachel said fondly, swishing her glass around lightly. "And you, as well."
He opened his mouth, drawing in a breath to answer, but seemed to think better of it. He chuckled to himself, staring at his drink. "I wonder what Matt would think."
Rachel reached over to touch his face. "Matt would be proud of his best friend."
"I promised to protect you two if anything were to happen," Joe began, "yet I've practically lost Cammie."
"Matt would understand," Rachel assured. "I do, too."
He smiled but didn't reply.
Her voice was as low as a whisper, and trembling a bit, as she added softly, "Thank you."
He turned to look at her.
She smiled at him, running her fingers gently through his hair. "Thank you…for everything, Joe."
He looked at her for a long moment, but when he tried to speak, he was abruptly interrupted when the door burst open. They stood as they turned around, looking from the small terrace and back into the hotel room. Abby, Grace, and Abe were standing as well, turned towards the door as the kids burst inside.
Macey was at the front, gripping her phone.
"New York."
"Are you lost?"
Zach looked up and stared into the face of the smiling girl beside him.
In all honesty, he had been so distracted that he had hardly noticed her, seeming to come from thin air. But she seemed out of place, with her cherry red hair and fair skin—like she didn't really belong amongst the common people of New York. He wasn't really sure why he was noticing this about her, since the only girl he noticed much about was—
"No, I'm not lost," he said in a low voice, but he knew she heard it, because she nodded, understanding.
"I…didn't mean it in that sense," she told him.
He looked at her.
"You…seem…at a loss," she corrected herself. "Maybe you've lost something?"
"Or someone," he murmured.
"Someone?"
He shook his head, dismissing it. How did she hear that?
"No, it's nothing," he muttered.
"Yes it is."
He felt the urge to snap at her. Why was she being so persistent? Or, more importantly, why did he feel like he should tell her?
"This girl," he murmured. It was out of his mouth before he could make sense of it.
"She worries you?"
"Always," he sighed. "Now more than ever."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"Not yet." He stopped at his words, laughing at himself. She was grinning. "I'm sorry, I—"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be prying," she reassured. "I've got to go, but it was nice seeing you." And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.
He stared after her in the crowd until she had completely disappeared, wondering what the hell was going on. The only one who he felt any form of comfort in was Cammie, at least enough to have had such a light conversation like that. And why had she been so persistent, anyway? He shook his head, trying to shake it off. But then something seemed to dawn on him.
He was a spy. No one should've seen him. Not unless they were like him.
Though she never thought much of it, she has felt the rush of danger more than she was comfortable with.
She'd felt it when she snuck out to meet Josh. She'd felt it when she and Zach stood in the hallway together when the school turned into Code Black. She'd felt it the night in November when she heard the screeching of the tires and the swerving of the headlights coming straight at her. She'd felt it when she and Zach wandered underneath the Blackthourne Institute for Boys.
She could probably name dozens more.
Yet, with each frightening and dangerous life-or-death situation she seemed to face, it never got easier; the rush was always new, always chilling.
Stepping into the elevator that evening beside a man she barely knew, yet was about to put it all on the line in an attempt to free her, was no different.
"Ready, Cameron?" his deep voice asked softly as the elevator doors closed and they ascended.
She closed her eyes. Suddenly, the gun that was tucked away in the inside of her coat felt a thousand times heavier.
Was she ready for this?
Would she ever be ready for something like this?
The answer was quite clear and simple. No.
But she'd have to be.
The scene was hard to take in.
Bodies lay limp, lifeless or unconscious, and were strewn about. Guns scattered the rooftops. It was black night, bleak and starless. The moon was eerie and barely visible behind stray gray clouds. And yet, there seemed to be no end to it. A collection of operatives had arrived just as they did, just in time to intercept The Circle's personnel, as if the whole thing had been planned.
Zach cursed under his breath, leaning back and catching a man's fist as he threw a punch, using his own momentum to flip him and knee his gut, knocking him out cold.
He hadn't seen Cammie anywhere in this mess since they'd arrived. Whether or not this was good or bad was what he was reluctant to find out.
"Where the hell is she?" he half-demanded.
Grant ducked, avoiding a kick while grabbing a stray gun in the process, and knocked the guy on the back of his head.
"Maybe she was never here to begin with," Jonas said as two of his guys fell to the ground.
Zach whipped his head around.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting to find amongst the fighting, but nothing particular stood out to him; nothing caught his eye. Cammie was nowhere in sight.
As he turned his head back towards Jonas and Grant, he only saw past them. "Bex!"
She struggled as a man grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides. She glared at him and her leg shot straight upward, kicking him square in the bottom of his jaw, and he stumbled back. As she was trying to balance herself again, someone came up from behind her, their hands clamping over her mouth and forcing her down onto her knees.
"Get away from her!" Grant roared, using the same gun in his hand to knock the back of Bex's attacker's head
Grant grabbed her arm, pulling her away as her attacker fell to the floor.
She found her hands clutching at his shirt. "You okay?" he asked.
"Never better," she squeaked.
There was a shriek, and they turned to find someone grabbing Liz's wrist from behind, bringing it over her head and trying to twist it as she thrashed about.
Jonas reacted first. He kicked her attacker's shin from an angle, and they heard something snap as her attacker began to fall. Jonas grabbed him by his collar and flipped him over, throwing him to the floor flat onto his stomach before hitting his head with a gun.
He stepped away, dropped the gun, and pulled Liz into his arms. She was shaking.
"Guys!" It sounded like Macey.
They turned and watched as, a few yards away, Macey delivered a blow to someone's shoulder and tossed them over the side of the building.
She looked back up at them and pointed at the next building. "I saw a bunch of them chase someone in there!"
"Do you think that's where Cammie is?" Bex asked.
But Zach was already making his way to the edge.
"Let's go find out."
As clichéd as it sounded, Cammie never really contemplated how she may face death. Considering her lifestyle, she wasn't surprised it would lean further away from natural causes and more towards something like being bruised and banged up, surrounded, her back against the wall, with nowhere else to run—similarly to the situation that she was in now.
She kicked off her heels, grabbing them before they hit the ground, and ran up the metal staircase through the abandoned hotel building, reaching the roof.
As she ran outside, she felt a drizzle—the beginnings of a pretty rough storm.
How ironic.
She ignored how the gravel hurt with just her stockings on.
Instead, she ran until she reached the edge, spinning back around to face her pursuers.
She expected them to catch her. She expected them to raise their guns and fire. She half-expected herself to simply leap off the side.
What she hadn't expected was for six silhouettes to suddenly appear and attack her pursuers—nor did she really expect to recognize her six saviors.
However, her shock didn't last much longer than a few seconds, for someone began to charge at her. She dropped her heels and stepped out of the way, dodging the blow moments before it could've hit, grabbing their arm and kneeing their stomach, slamming them onto the floor.
As she stumbled to get back up, her head felt heavy, her vision blurring in and out. Suddenly, there were hands helping her stand upright.
Zach froze as he stared at her. "You're that girl from—"
A loud sound shattered the air.
Her eyes flew wide open and she fell back to her knees as she felt a sudden sharp pain in her side. She let out a strained scream.
Zach was kneeling beside her, about to reach for her, but she clasped her hand around his wrist and shook her head. "I'm fine." Then she looked around at the scene. As the drizzle picked up into a light rain, Bex and Liz and Macey and Grant and Jonas were just about finished finishing off The Circle personnel, and at first, she just stared in disbelief. Could it really have been that easy?
She felt another hand grab her shoulder lightly, and Bex was suddenly kneeling beside her.
"Is she okay?" she asked Zach.
"She got shot in her hip, but…" Zach trailed off. He was staring at her again.
This didn't go unnoticed by the others. "Zach?" Liz asked uneasily.
He ignored Liz, staring into Cammie's face. It was then Cammie realized the rain must've faded her makeup just enough for him to recognize her now.
He reached over, extending his hand cautiously, and she stared back at him as his fingers grazed her cheekbone. She heard the faint protests of the others, but only faintly in the background as Zach's fingers locked around her hair, pulling her wig off.
They gasped.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
Then suddenly, she felt someone grasp her, pulling her tightly, and found herself kissing Zach back just as fiercely.
When they parted, they both gasped for air, and he wrapped his arms around her, locking them in a steel hold as he buried his head into her shoulder. She was shocked at first, but recovered in seconds, hugging him back and pulling him as close as physically possible.
"Don't ever leave me like that again, Cammie," he whispered. "I don't know what…I'd do without you, Cammie. Okay?"
She smiled softly, her own eyes getting watery. "I promise."
There was a whimper, and Cammie pulled out of the hug, turning to look at Liz. She was paler than usual, as if she were looking at a ghost.
"Cammie?" she whispered.
Cammie nodded slowly. "It's really me, Liz."
She nodded back, staring for a few more seconds before something seemed to snap inside her.
Then she dropped to her knees and threw herself at Cammie, her arms around her best friend in seconds, tears spilling down her face. "Oh, Cammie!"
Zach (reluctantly) released her hold of Cammie, though did not move, and they all watched as Cammie wrapped her arms around Liz and rubbed her back, cooing softly to her.
"Cam?"
Cammie looked over Liz's shoulder at Macey, who stood closer now.
Liz pulled out of the hug and broke into a wide, teary-eyed smile before being helped onto her feet again by Jonas, backing away a few steps. Cammie smiled back at her before returning to Macey, who seemed to be surveying her warily before she smiled, too, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Cammie held her arms out towards her, and Macey rushed into them. They hugged each other tightly.
"You're in a lot of trouble when we get home, okay?" Macey told her, her voice shaking slightly as she wiped at her tears.
Cammie smiled. "Of course."
As Macey pulled out of the hug, she looked over at Bex.
Bex still hadn't moved, only now Grant had come to stand beside her, staring at her in concern.
Her eyes were locked on Cammie, swirling with emotions—frustration, rage, pain, sorrow, relief, confusion, betrayal, more pain. That one look had Cammie letting go of Macey, standing on her knees, and staring back at her. Her face was wet, and Cammie knew her best friend well enough to know that it wasn't the rain.
"How could you do that to us?" Bex snapped. "How could you just leave?"
Cammie took a step closer.
"We were worried sick!" she continued. "What if something happened to you, Cammie, did you think of that?"
Another step closer.
"Or maybe you could've let us come with you, instead of sending us on a wild chase trying to find you," she rambled. "Did you think of that?"
A few more steps closer.
"Or what if we hadn't come in time, tonight?" she questioned.
Grant backed away a few steps.
"Bloody hell, Cammie, think a little," she yelled. "You always think you have to protect us, you always think you're in it alone, when all of us would rather be with you than—"
"Bex," Cammie finally cut her off, wrapping her arms tightly around her best friend, whose lip was quivering, her eyelashes dotted with tears. "It's over, Bex. I can come home now."
"You're really coming back?" Bex asked. Cammie nodded. "You're not leaving?"
"I'm here to stay," Cammie reassured, hugging her even tighter.
And for the first time in weeks, Rebecca Baxter cried.
"A merge with Blackthourne?"
Cammie stared at her mother in disbelief from her place on the couch, dropping the cheesy pizza back onto her paper plate. She looked to Mr. Solomon, but he was deliberately looked away from her, peeling off a pepperoni slice and popping it into his mouth. Instead, she turned to the boy who say sat beside her, one eyebrow arched suspiciously. "Did you know about this?"
Zach shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't hear anything about it," he admitted.
"It happened while we were away from school," Rachel informed. "Madame Dabney said there were complications at Blackthourne."
"Will they be starting with us?" Cammie asked. Considering all that happened over the summer, the fact school was starting in just two weeks was a little disorienting.
"Most likely a week or so after," Rachel answered. "It may take longer to prepare everything for their stay."
"Is this a permanent thing?"
"That's the idea."
"Sounds…exciting," Cammie admitted after a short pause, breaking into a giddy smile.
"I know that our girls will be excited," Joe added.
Cammie laughed, placing her pizza in her lap and hugging Zach, squeezing his shoulders slightly. He kissed her cheek. "Can't wait," he told her.
"Speaking of girls," Rachel began, "what have our girls been up to lately?"
Cammie tapped her index finger to her chin. "Liz and Jonas are probably walking around campus. Bex and Grant are probably in the P&E barn trying to best each other. Oh, and Macey called earlier, saying that she and Abby will be coming back by the end of the week."
Rachel smiled. "It seems like this Preston will be here to stay for awhile."
"Looks like it," Cammie agreed. "I think Macey has finally found the one boy who is stubborn enough to keep coming after her."
"That isn't necessarily a good thing, depending on how you look at it," Joe informed.
They laughed.
"Good morning, how are my two favorite lovebirds?" Tina chirped in French (that was the language for today) as she passed by.
Normally, this would've annoyed Cammie, but instead, she found herself laughing along, flushing slightly. "Doing great, Tina."
"Don't you have breakfast to eat?" Zach asked teasingly, and Tina pretended to look offended, before bursting out in laughter and ruffling his hair.
"See you two later!"
"What was that all about?" Macey asked as she sat herself on the bench on Cammie's other side.
"Oh, you know Tina," Cammie reminded, "she's just giddy because this place is filled with Blackthourne Boys."
Macey rolled her eyes. "Please. It's not that big of a deal. They're—"
"Not as cute as Preston Winters?" Cammie interjected.
She was promptly hit on her arm.
"Hi guys," Liz greeted almost as chirpily as Tina as she and Jonas sat across the table from them.
"Jonas," Zach said, staring at Liz, "your girlfriend looks a little high. What did you do to her?"
"Not me, man," Jonas corrected, "she's just like that."
"Jonas!"
"Cammie!" they heard Bex exclaim, and she suddenly raced down the other end of the hall, hand-in-hand with Grant. "Is it true we have a town day next week?"
Cammie nodded. "Yeah, my mom confirmed it. She and the teachers will be coming with us, too."
Grant arched an eyebrow. "They will? That's…strange."
"Well, we ought to make plans now!" Liz squealed excitedly. "Town days are so much fun!"
As their five friends rambled on about plans, Zach slipped his arm around Cammie's waist, pulling her closer to him on the bench. She smiled widely at him and they kissed lightly before she giggled and placed her head on his shoulder, curling into his side a little. "Want to ditch them?" he whispered into her eat.
"You bet," she whispered back.
She laced her fingers with his and he squeezed her tightly.
It still amazed her when she stepped back and looked at the big picture—from that first mission where she was tailed by Zach, to that right then and there sitting in the Grand Hall laughing and joking around like it had been like this forever, to everything in between. Somehow, when she ran, he followed. When she hid, he saw her. When she shifted, he shifted—like magnets drawn together.
As she closed her eyes, she realized that she was wrong. It wasn't like magnets. It was much stronger than that.
She and Zach? They were drawn by gravity.
A/n. Ugh. Sorry about this horrible ending, or this horrible fic for that matter.
Anyway, I went to see Ally Carter at a book signing on Saturday and it made me want to write more, but I kept getting side-tracked.
Oh, and about Zach's dad…don't ask me why I threw him in there, because I honestly don't have an answer. And sorry if this disappoints you. And why isn't he mentioned in the ending? Well, because I'm leaving it open to the possibilities! (And yes, by the way, in case there was any confusion, that was Mr. Goode with her in the elevator scene.)
Sorry for any errors, I have trouble editing thoroughly enough until it's already posted. Just let me know any and all that you see and I'll fix them ASAP.
So you read it. Love it? Hate it? Please review it!