JACKIE:

  Zayne’s wings slashed through the air, awaiting Grace’s command. Would she send her parents to their deaths?

  I watched the stream with bated breath, my stomach in knots.

  Mark and Beatrice gripped each other over the volcano; shaking, sweating, sobbing.

  “Grace, don’t choose your misguided puppy love over our family’s future,” Mark begged.

  She clenched her jaw, glaring at her father. “Puppy love? Really? That’s what you think this is about? Show some remorse for the horrific things you’ve done.”

  “You’re failing to see the long-term gains of the treatment I created, and all the lives we’ll save. Let me show you the data.”

  Grace shook her head. “It’s like you always say. There are no bad ideas. Only bad execution.”

  “Grace…” Mark’s tone turned stern.

  “Throw them over,” she told Zayne with an eerily calm face, like she’d already shut the world out.

  “Yes, dear.” He flapped those fiery wings, dangling Mark and Beatrice like playthings.

  Mark’s eyes turned red. “No, not after everything we’ve accomplished.”

  He pressed his forehead against Beatrice’s. “I just got you back, B. I can’t lose you all over again.”

  Grace turned and walked away. She lacked the courage to face her parents in their last moments.

  Zayne released his grip.

  Mark and Beatrice fell into the heart of that volcano, staring at each other until the bitter end. They never let go.

  “Grace, no,” I screamed from the entrance of the stream, my heart beating like a jackhammer. “This isn’t the answer. There has to be a better way.”

  Beatrice exited the portal with a stony expression. She booted me out with her, pushing me into the Slipstream void.

  “There you have it, Jackie. How can you choose Grace’s side now? Your mother is a murderer.”

  “I…” My mouth hung open, unsure what to say.

  Beatrice snapped her fingers, and the portal to the past closed on command. Its embers scattered, glowing for a heartbeat before vanishing into ash.

  With another snap of Beatrice’s fingers, I jolted awake with a snort on the couch in Life Rite’s luxury apartment.

  I rubbed the crust out of my eyes, looking around.

  In the hush before dawn, shadows stretched long across the living room floor as the sun crept upward to start anew.

  Beatrice was no longer at my side on the couch.

  Turning my torso, I found her standing behind me with a raised eyebrow.

  My muscles snapped tight.

  Her skin, her hair, her vitality–she hadn’t aged since falling to her death into the volcano with Mark over seventeen years ago.

  “How can this be real life? Shouldn’t you be dead?” I ran my fingers through the red streak in my hair.

  A sly smile curled at the corner of her lips, but Beatrice said nothing.

  “Are you… Did Grace’s mother have a twin?” I stammered.

  “Interesting take, Jackie. Is that who you think I am?” She crossed her arms, her gold bracelets clinking together.

  I swallowed and gathered the courage to utter the truth aloud. “You’re Grace’s mom.”

  “Not anymore, but I was then.” Beatrice scowled. “That little twit killed her own mother and father, and showed no remorse. Do you still choose her side?”

  I charged back, “But you’re still alive.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “And looking better than ever.” Beatrice winked. “But Mark didn’t make it, and Grace didn’t know I’d survive. She wanted to get rid of us after all we sacrificed. We found our way back to each other, and she ripped us apart again.”

  She put her hand to her heart. “Mark and I were each other’s raison en d’etre. You’ll never meet another couple so endlessly devoted to each other.”

  “But…” I shook my head.

  “Grace wanted to keep the miracle drug for herself instead of sharing it with the world. Then she abandoned her own child, you, dear Jackie.”

  Beatrice paced behind the couch, speaking passionately with her hands. “She let you live in squalor as a Duster instead of allowing you to lay claim as the rightful heir to our wealthy estate. Is she who you should focus your energy on in the Slipstream?”

  Beatrice had a point. I always dreamed of being a Flyer, somehow knowing that’s what I deserved to be.

  Or is that how every Climber feels?

  But my brain was stuck on the fact that she had survived the fall.

  “How?” was all I managed to say.

  Beatrice rolled her eyes at my hesitancy to accept the facts.

  “The injections not only cured me, they gave me access to the Slipstream. I got my first taste when I re-birthed in that volcano. That’s when I saw what Life Rite could truly be.”

  “What happened to Grace and Zayne?”

  Beatrice groaned and walked toward the door, her stilettos tapping in her wake.

  Without looking back, she said, “They murdered the love of my life. I’ll never forgive them for that.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  Beatrice unlocked and opened the door with her DNA Identifier. “I’m going to Bennu Island. Now that I know about fire portals, I’ve got work to do. Thanks for that information, dear Jackie.”

  Alpha followed her out the door, which shut behind them.

  I sat alone on the couch, speechless, heart pounding in my parched throat.

  The back of my neck stung, so I reached around to find a spot of blood the size of a prick.

  My fight-or-flight mode went into overdrive.

  Not only had I shown Beatrice how fire portals worked, but she had also got another sample of my blood.

  She was a master manipulator.

  I swallowed my stupidity, clueless about my next move. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t have time to indulge in my feelings.

  “The fireplace.”

  Its flames extinguished, I looked for the remote, but couldn’t find it.

  I threw the Life Rite cushions and pillows, searching high and low; under the couch, in the kitchen, on the mantle.

  It was gone.

  No doubt Beatrice took it, leaving me locked up without access to the Slipstream.

  I was her prisoner in every way, but I was also her… granddaughter?!

  “It can’t be true…” I bit my fingernail, collapsed onto the couch, and rolled into the fetal position.

  If Grace hadn’t abandoned me, I’d be a Flyer. Instead, here I was, an ignorant Duster, held prisoner by Life Rite, the all-powerful mega-corp I was heir to.

  I rocked myself. “If only the fireplace worked, I’d find answers in the Slipstream.”

  Not ready to give up, I tore the kitchen apart, scouring for matches like a fiend without a fix.

  The drawers were empty, staged for pretend luxury living. Straight out of a sales catalog.

  I turned the stove burner on, but no flame ignited. That too was a shallow prop.

  Nothing about this place was real. Except for my pain, the only constant I could count on.

  “There are more extreme methods,” I mumbled.

  Without a fire portal, I’d have to rely on a near-death experience to enter the Slipstream.

  My legs tensed as I lifted my hospital gown and removed the bandage on my abdomen.

  My gunshot wound had almost healed.

  “Already?”

  I contemplated my options. If I pushed on the wound to make myself pass out, what if I lost too much blood and actually died? Would I rebirth?

  That would surely get me back to the Slipstream, but the idea suffocated me.

  I dryheaved, my legs wobbling on the way to the fridge.

  After chugging another bottle of water, I did a few laps around the kitchen island.

  “There is no other option.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair.

  I had to tell Firestorm that I naively told Beatrice about fire portals, putting the people of Bennu Island in jeopardy once more.

  “It’s now or never…” I huffed out a few breaths and pushed on my bandage until it bled.

  I cried in agony, putting pressure on my wound until my legs went weak. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor, tears streaming down my face. My eyesight blurred, but I remained conscious of my pain.

  “It’s not working!” I wasn’t in the Slipstream, but the floor rumbled beneath me.

  My sweaty palms vibrated against the cold tile.

  Looking up at the windows, Firestorm flew outside. The power of his wing flaps shook the high-rise apartment.

  His massive body emanated heat, raising the temperature in the room, causing my body to flush.

  His sharp talons gripped the window glass.

  It cracked, sending large chunks falling like daggers into the streets below.

  The hole in the window created a wind tunnel that whipped my hair around.

  I closed my eyes and pushed on my wound again. The Slipstream felt so close.

  Firestorm burst through the broken window and jumped onto the coffee table, which broke to bits under his weight.

  My eyes watered as they adjusted to Firestorm’s glow amidst the debris flying in the air.

  “What are you waiting for, Jackie? Jump on.”

  “Are you… are you really here?”

  “Yes, jump on and let’s go.”

  I hesitated. Having only seen Firestorm in the Slipstream, it was hard to accept that he was here in the flesh.

  Am I hallucinating?