Chapter Five

          Burn. Just let it burn.

          He never thought he would escape the prison, but he did. And it felt good, so good. His sore, aching muscles were soothed by the feel of the cool night air against his skin. His entire body was still warm, still hot and feverish from using his Craft. But the air felt good. Even the damp, after rain smell was good. He had always had a slight aversion to rain, but he'd never felt so happy, so euphoric ...

          The sound of footsteps alerted him. His muscles tensed, and in spite of the aches and pains, he knew he had to run. They would come for him, sooner rather than later. He was a threat to them. He knew that, didn't he? When the Organization rose to power, they offered him and Roxanne a place, as one of the Hunters. Roxanne accepted, choosing to sniff out Impurities and Blanks to be eliminated. He refused, and they had found an excuse to dispose of him. To remove him. The fact that he was an Impurity was enough to justify their actions in capturing him, but Lionel Ashcroft had wanted him out of the picture completely.

          And then they came up with a plan to drag my name through the mud as well as kill me, he thought as he sprang into a run. Like the out-of-control flames he could manipulate, he was almost weightless, quick on his feet. It was almost like flying. But he was already exhausted from using his Craft to escape. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up his pace. He would have to hide soon, but where would he go? There was no one he could trust. Roxanne had betrayed him by joining the Organization. Who did he have left?

          Bryce Cloade, he decided. His only hope. But was Bryce still on his side? He didn't know. He didn't know at all. He only could hope. That was all he had left, he realized. Hope.

          And with this tiny shred of hope, he set off in direction of the Cloades' residence.

          When Eduard woke up, he found himself lying on the ground, in the school parking lot. He had no idea how he wound up there, or what had happened in the past few hours. He could recall himself walking to school and straight to Homeroom, but the events that followed, right up to the point where he woke up here, were a great empty blank. No matter how hard he'd tried, he kept drawing a blank. And he felt sick. Not just plain sick, but sick as in a full blown fever sick.

          He dragged himself home, feeling rather groggy and feverish. He was definitely coming down with something. His head hurt.

          Have I been mugged or something? he wondered. He reconsidered, and found it not possible. Nothing was missing, except for his memories for the past few hours, but who would want to steal that? And who could steal memories, anyway? He was probably in some sort of fugue state, and would snap out of it soon. That was what he hoped, at least.

          His arm had a dull ache; upon closer inspection, he'd noticed a bruise on it. It wasn't even a big enough one to warrant concern. His throat ached a little, too, and there was a bad taste in his mouth. Bitter and a little bit sour, not unlike vomit. That, and added with his elevated body temperature and headache, made him feel like hell.

          I shouldn't have gotten out of bed, he thought miserably.

          Ellie was in the passenger seat of Apollo's Mercedes. She wasn't really sure what model it was, but she didn't really care. What she cared about was an explanation, and Apollo wasn't giving her any. He was simply driving in a rather nonchalant manner, while the radio belted out The Academy Is ... He didn't really bother looking at her. Every now and then he hummed the tune of Everything We Had, regardless of what song was playing. Once or twice, his cell phone rang. Once, he ignored the call until the caller gave up. On the second call, he took the call.

          "Faulkner," he muttered quickly. There was a long pause, then Apollo slid his gaze - his creepy, see-right-through-you gaze - to Ellie, who drew back uncomfortably. He flicked his gaze back to the road as he said, "Yeah, she's with me. Well, I'm running a little late. An unexpected ... inconvenience occurred. But it's all taken care of now. Trust me, I'm not the one you should worry about. Like I said, keep an eye on Friday."

          He ended the call, slipping his phone back into the front pocket of his Dockers. He shifted his gaze to Ellie for one more moment before returning his attention to the road.

          "Well?" Ellie mumbled.

          "'Well' what?" Apollo asked, turning his head to look at her and giving Ellie the full blown effect of his eyes.

          "Aren't you going to tell me anything? I deserve an explanation."

          "Yes, but this is hardly the time and place. You'll know everything in time. Trust me."

          "Why am I going back?" Ellie huffed. "I know they don't want me back. Are you taking me there to kill me? I think you might as well do it now; it'll save you all the trouble."

          "I don't want to kill you, Bianca," Apollo replied.

          "Then why?"

          Apollo didn't reply. He turned his attention back to the road ahead, driving on without another word. Ellie decided not to say anything else. She stared straight ahead as Apollo took them down an unfamiliar road. Ellie definitely didn't recognize this long stretch, and wondered why he was going through the trouble of driving her this far away. As she recalled, one couldn't reach the Outer Arc by car ... nor through any average means of transport.

          "Can't you just open a portal to the Outer Arc?"

          "We're not going there. At least, not yet."

          Ellie frowned. So, if he wasn't taking her back to the Outer Arc yet ... then where was he taking her?