Page 122 of Victorious

Mitch’s vision blurred.

His legs folded, almost gratefully, his body giving up the fight, and as he went down, his final thought—his only thought—was for Syd, hoping she was smart enough to run, and fast enough to get away.

VIIINOW. THEN.

SYDNEY shoved her shoulder against the door labeled ROOF ACCESS, sure it would be locked. But somehow, mercifully, it wasn’t. The door swung inward, onto a set of stairs that only went up. Up, which wasn’t the same as out, or away, or safe. But it was something.

There was no way to bar the door behind her, so she didn’t bother trying, just vaulted up the stairs, ignoring her ribs as they screamed for her to stop, her head as it screamed that a dead end was the opposite of an escape, as if she didn’t know.

The agents hit the stairs behind her, their steps ringing off metal and concrete as she surged out onto the motel roof.

She looked around, desperate to find something she could use to bar the door, but there was nothing up here but sticky tar tiles and a handful of air vents with wooden siding that crumbled in her hands.

Syd swore, mind racing as she dumped the contents of her bag, sorting through the mess until she found the gun wrapped in the scarf. A swift tug, and it tumbled out, but instead of snapping off the safety and make a final, futile stand against the EON agents in her wake, she shoved the weapon against the door, lodging it between the handle and the frame.

Seconds later, a body hit the door, but the gun was wedged firm.

It wouldn’t hold for long.

But hopefully, it would be long enough.

She grabbed the little red tin, and backed away, putting several strides between herself and the door before dropping to her knees, and prying off the metal lid.

Sydney Clarke had been carrying her sister’s bones for eight years.

Since the morning she found them studding the ashes outside the Falcon Price construction site. Three soot-coated fragments. All that was left of Serena.

A shoulder slammed against the rooftop door.

Syd’s hands hovered over the charred remains.

She didn’t know if this would work.

Had never had the guts to try.

Over the years, she’d studied, practiced, learned how to resurrect more from less, telling herself that one day, she’d be strong enough to bring her sister back. And then she was, and she still couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted Serena back, she missed her every day, but Sydney knew that if she failed, she’d never get another shot. The remains would crumble, the last traces of her sister gone, erased, and she’d have nothing to hold on to.

And if she succeeded, well—that was just as terrifying, because there was no telling what version of her sister she would get. The one who had raised and loved her when their parents didn’t; or the one who’d left her in the hospital; or the one who’d handed her over to Eli, knowing he’d kill her; or the one who’d let her escape.

Serena was so many things—magnetic, selfish, gorgeous, strong—but steady had never been one of them. Even before the accident on the lake, and after—after, she might as well have been a stranger.

There was another reason Sydney hadn’t done it.

Resurrecting animals was relatively easy. Humans, hard, but doable. But EOs? EOs had a glitch. Their powers came back damaged. Victor Vale was proof of that. What would happen to Serena? Would her voice still work, the way it had? Or would it come back broken?

Broken things were dangerous. Broken things were sharp.

Don’t, pleaded one corner of her mind, while the other screamed at her to hurry up. The door groaned. The gun started to slip. Sydney was out of time.

She brought her hands down on the bones.

And reached.

Cold surged through her body, as if she was plunging back into the lake, icy water closing over her. Cold, sharp enough to seize her muscles, to steal her breath, but she didn’t let go.

Come back, she willed, as the chill climbed across her skin, dug its teeth into her bones. She reached, fingers splayed across the charred remains, past the bones into the dark place where dead things waited. Reached, hoping to feel the thread of her sister’s life down there.

At first, all she felt was the icy depth, the horrible, pervasive cold.