The theme song for this chapter is "Memories That Fade Like Photographs" by All Time Low.

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Incredible

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Rated T for language and violence.

She could no longer hear the voices. He ceased to repeat them. Her abundant voice lost all meaning. He didn't know what to listen for anymore. She was beaten of her will, her Voice having left her for dead. His voice was lost forever to the violent wind.

But the ones who created them made a crucial mistake when taking apart their miraculous creation. Now their experiments are getting minds of their own, and they're pushing at the time-weakened, crumbling walls. How much longer will they stay standing?

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Seeing Red and Black

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Then she slammed her cell phone shut, and threw it across the room.

Just before it crashed through the window, Mike—who'd backed away along with his sister and Aiden when Riley began to shout—shot out a hand and plucked it out of the air.

Wednesday, November 24th, 2010

Clara tapped her feet impatiently, waiting for her friend to come out of the changing room. Danika had taken six different shirts—the most they'd allow—and she had insisted on trying each one of before parading out in front of her friend with her favorites.

"I don't know, which one do you like the best, JJ?"

Clara turned to see two older girls—maybe seniors in high school—examining a rack of dresses. The red-haired one held a blue-grey shirt dress up, examining it and smoothing down the buttoned collar.

"Oh, that's totally not right for you," Clara said before she could think it through. "You'd look like prep-school Barbie's best friend." Or her worst enemy. She glanced at the nearby racks and plucked a belted chiffon dress out of the unsorted mess. She held it up to the red-head, comparing her hair to the reddish-brown of the fabric. "Yeah, this is the one you want. Go, try it on!"

The girl and her petite friend, flabbergasted, shuffled off to the dressing room. Danika brushed past them, a big grin on her face. She rushed up to Clara. "I think this is the one!" she announced, spinning and showing off how the deep-blue of the shirt's fabric gave her all the important curves.

"Totally, Dani," Clara smiled, giving her friend's arm a squeeze. However, her teeth clenched anxiously as she glanced at the clock on the wall. "Can we buy the shirt and head out? I'd really like to hit up a few other stores before we have to meet your mom for lunch."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Danika nodded with a grin and slipped back into the dressing room to change.

They spent a few more minutes in the store, wandering around and trying on scarves, hats, and sunglasses and laughing like only best friends can. As they walked out the store after Danika had paid, a heavily manicured hand wrapped around Clara's arm.

"Tiffany-Krystal?"

Clara turned around, to see the red-head from before. Her friend stood a step or two back, holding her face in her hands in mortification.

"You're Tiffany-Krystal Ride, aren't you? Your parents are the missionaries. You probably don't remember me 'cause I was in your brothers' class, but you went to my school in Virginia! I'm Lissa, this is JJ. We're on vacation for Thanksgiving break," she explained eagerly. "Hey, are you here with your family? Is your brother Nick around?"

"Sorry?" Clara stepped back, out of her grasp. She'd never seen this girl before, and the farthest she'd ever been away from home was this trip.

"What is she talking about, Clara?" Danika hissed, her brow furrowed. "You've never been to Virginia."

"I know," the fourteen-year-old replied softly. Then she crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and glared at the older girls. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"How could you not?" Lissa countered, incredulous. "I mean, you were there for two months. Then you mysteriously left school or something. I'm not sure. JJ and I were sick that day. Stupid defective chicken pox shots," she grumbled, her eyes flickering downward. Then she looked back up, her eyes excited and inquisitive. "Why did you leave, anyway?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clara maintained, her voice stiff and angry. "We're going to leave now. If you try to talk to us again, I will call the police." At that, she and Danika spun on their heels and stalked away from the entrance, leaving two utterly baffled seniors in their wake.

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"I'm telling you, JJ, that was Nick Ride's younger adopted sister," Lissa insisted as they walked down to the food court. Their arms were laden with the various spoils of their trip, and both were starving.

"Lissa, I think you're crazy. I mean, how could it possibly be them? Isn't Anne Walker in charge of them or something? I heard she moved to New York City." JJ stepped into the McDonald's line, shifting her bags so she could grab her wallet out of her purse.

Lissa trailed behind her friend, her arms only slightly heavier. "JJ, their parents are obviously back. I bet they have a huge ranch out in the country or something. But I know that's Nick's little sister. And—look!" She pointed to one end of the food court, where Clara ran up and threw her arms around Riley in excitement. "See?" Lissa exclaimed incredulously. "There's Max!"

JJ's eyebrows show upward as the line moved forward. "I guess you're right. But don't bother them. They might get mad. That girl did say she was going to call the police."

Lissa huffed indignantly. "I'm sure Nick's here, too. We'll just go say hello before they leave and ask where he is. I mean, I'm sure he still—" She cut herself off, looking back to the counter wide, abashed eyes.

"He still what, Liss?"

Lissa shook her head, her cheeks flushing. "Never mind."

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"Where's your friend and her mom?" Riley asked Clara as they sat at a table near the north end of the food court.

"Over there," she responded, turning and gesturing with a tan arm to a table near the Subway restaurant. There, the two girls could see Danika, Christie Ann, and their mother sitting at a table and eating sandwiches. When Clara twisted back to face the table, she bit her lip and asked, "Hey, Max?"

"Mmhmm?" The seventeen-year-old took a long sip from her smoothie and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "What's up, Nudge?"

"While Dani and I were in Forever Twenty-One, this girl ran up to us and called me Tiffany-Krystal. She said I'd gone to her school in Virginia. But Max, I've never been to Virginia before. Heck, this is the first time I've left the Midwest." Clara glanced over her shoulder suspiciously. "I thought I saw her here, too… damn. There she is."

True enough, Lissa and JJ were making their way over to where Riley and Clara sat. The girls were arguing rather animatedly, with Lissa practically livid and JJ the calm antagonist.

"Max!" the red-head called, rushing over and setting her McDonald's tray down heavily, even though it only carried a single chicken salad and a water bottle. "Okay, you have to remember me. Nick and I ki—I mean, I was in your brothers' class for the few months you were in Virginia freshman year! I'm Li—"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Riley growled dangerously. She sat rigid in her seat, glaring daggers at the red-haired girl. Her eyes were vibrant and angry, and her fists slowly clenched on the table. She didn't have the slightest idea, who this girl was, but seeing her, and her unnaturally red hair, brought up nothing but painful memories of Greta and Sean—her perpetual tormentors from high school back in Florida.

"I told you," Clara added heatedly, fueled by Riley's intensity, "I'm going to call the police if you don't leave right now."

"We're just leaving," JJ insisted, taking her friend's shoulder. "C'mon, Lissa."

That name was the trigger for Riley to lunge across the table, hands out and poised to wrap around the red-head's delicate throat.

"Riley!" Clara dove forward; her arms wrapped around her leader's waist and she strained to push her back into the seat.

Lissa had fallen back in her chair in surprise, her eyes as wide as saucers. "We're going!" she squeaked. JJ helped her rise shakily to her feet and sweep up their things; then they were gone, off to the other end of the food court.

Riley sat back heavily, her breathing harsh and uneven. "Want to kill her," she grumbled, her furious eyes trained on the spot that girl had vacated just moments before.

"She's gone, Max," Clara murmured soothingly, patting the elder girl's shoulder. "What was that about, anyway? You look like you want her to die or something!"

Instead of snapping, which was what Clara had feared she would do, Riley crumpled against her chair back, her eyes pinching shut. "He kissed her, Nudge," she said softly. "He kissed her. Her!"

"Max, snap out of it!" The fourteen-year-old clapped her hands in front of her leader's face, frowning at the theatrics. "He was talking to somebody on Monday, somebody that wasn't you. I know it wasn't you because he sounded so surprised when he said your name. He'd called her 'Angel.' Who were you with on Monday, Max?"

Riley's anger melted away at this, and an excited smile bloomed in its place. She sat up straight, facing her friend with that small grin. "I found them, Nudge," she said excitedly. "I found the others in the picture. Angel, Gazzy, and Iggy. They're here, Nudge!"

"What?"

Riley nodded again, beaming so hard now that her cheeks hurt. "We need to get together, right away! Are you doing anything tomorrow morning? It's Thanksgiving, but we're all free that morning."

Clara blushed. "I'm sorry, Max," she said, her face crumpling with her elation. "We're going to eat together for brunch and then we're heading out to the game. My friend's sister got box tickets."

"You're going to the football game tomorrow?"

Why did she still sound excited? The fourteen-year-old replied slowly, "Yeah…"

"Ig is, too! Well, he goes by Aiden now. Maybe you'll see him there." Riley clasped her friend's hands across the table, glancing at her watch quickly. She gave a little frown. "Shit. I have to go; Rachel is looking for me. Older sisters." With a roll of her eyes, she stood, still holding onto Clara's hands tightly. She was surprised to find the girl's eyes moist with tears.

"Max… what are we going to do? I'm not staying here much longer!" The younger girl bit her lip, brushing away the tears that hadn't fallen yet.

"Nudge," the young woman said seriously, taking her friend by the shoulders. "Just hang tight, okay? We'll find a way to work this all out. I promise."

Clara nodded carefully, smiling a little as she did. "Okay."

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Owen lumbered downstairs lazily, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. When he walked into the two-story apartment's kitchen, he found his father sitting at the island, sipping black coffee.

"Good morning, Owen," Mr. Ashwood said, glancing up from the paper. His eyes narrowed when they landed on his son's haggard face, glancing at the oven clock. "It's almost one. Have you been getting any sleep?"

Owen shrugged, making himself a quick cup of coffee before leaning up against the sink, facing his father. He could tell the man what happened, about the only girl he'd ever loved breaking his heart in two and the strange information her possible sister had given him that kept him up half the night, but he didn't think any of it was the business man's problem. "I'm not that tired," he deadpanned.

"Owen, what happened yesterday?" Mr. Ashwood's voice was calm, calculating. He set down his newspaper and clasped his hands on the counter.

"I don't know."

"Son…" The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sir…" Owen still wouldn't call him 'dad.'

His father frowned, not finding it funny. "Owen, I can't help if you don't let me. I'd like for you to at least talk to me."

The seventeen-year-old raised an eyebrow, draining the last of his coffee and setting the mug in the sink. "And I'd like it," he said flatly, "if I could fly away and get the hell out of here and away from all this crap. But I can't, and I deal. So should you." He stalked back upstairs without another word.

Jeb Batchelder picked up the newspaper, folding it in half and tossing it into the recycling bin. Had Fang always been this difficult? What happened to that quiet little boy from the E-shaped house? Where was the kid who stuck to his daughter's side like glue? When had this young man become so angsty?

If Jeb was really looking for answers, he only had himself to blame. He was stunned he hadn't gotten hell yet for the stunt he was pulling.

BRRRRIIIINNNG!

There goes the hell.

Jeb picked up the cordless phone from its cradle and put it up to his ear. "Yes?"

"Jeb, thank god. I haven't heard from him in nearly two days! What's going on?" Her voice came out low and dangerous. "What kind of stunt are you trying to pull? You're lucky I haven't reported you already! Don't test me, Jeb."

"There's no stunt, Phoebe." Jeb's words were weary as he rubbed at his eyes, looking over at the stairs. "Is it a bad thing that I just want to be the kind of father I never could for my own children?"

"We all want things, Jeb. How would my sister feel if she knew I've masqueraded as the mother to her lost son for the past year and a half? Lord knows I want to tell her. But I can't, or else. And you know how that feels."

"Yes," he replied stiffly. "All right, I understand. I can't push my luck anymore. Would you like to speak with him? He could use some motherly insight at the moment. Maybe he'll tell you what's going on."

"That'd be lovely. It's always nice to have some form of truth in my weekly reports."

Jeb nearly smiled as he walked up the creaky, hard-wood stairs. "You know, Phoebe, I really can't thank you enough for—"

"Yeah, yeah, cut the flattery, Jeb. Just let me talk to my nephew."

Jeb nodded, though she couldn't see, and knocked on the guest room door. "Phone!"

Fang opened up the door with a raised eyebrow. Those bags under his eyes were still deep and dark, and his mouth was twisted into a sarcastic smile. "What, so I'm a little kid who gets play dates set up for him now? Are you in denial or something?"

"It's your mother." Jeb's expression hardened, and he handed over the phone.

Fang nodded, putting the phone up to his ear and turning his back on the hall. "Hey, mom… yeah." He looked over his shoulder, noting Jeb's presence, before swiftly slamming the door shut.

Jeb sighed heavily. As he walked back down to the kitchen, he wondered quietly to himself, "What have you done, Jeb? You tore the apart the greatest miracles the world has ever seen, the only ones that could save us from ourselves." He looked out of the one floor-to-ceiling window in the whole apartment, the one that looked down on the city below, where cars rolled sluggishly by and blared endlessly on their horns. A tiny metal beehive, doomed to extinction because he didn't want them to kill his daughter.

"You've cursed the world, Jeb," the scientist muttered bitterly. "You've damned us all to hell."

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This is gonna be another short one today, too. There are only three chapters left! Goodness, I am SO, unbelievably excited for this. It's really been so fantastic looking over everything and just remembering how much I love this story, you know? I hope reading this (whether it be the first time or the third time) makes you feel the same as it did for me. If it's the one thing I tried to accomplish here, it was to get you to react to this story, to think and work out all the pieces. Hopefully the sequel will be able to live up to your expectations. :)

All right, everybody. The three-part finale starts next!

Your faithful author,

Lea