Scorpion Shards by Neal Shusterman

they’re nothing compared to us—you and I are the strongest, the most powerful!”
    It was true—Deanna had sensed that much in the vision. How loud they were—how bright they were compared to The Others as they screamed in the darkness. Her fears and Dillon’s hunger for destruction were certainly far more powerful than anything the other four had to deal with.
    Until now she had thought the strange gravity that had been drawing all of them together was impossible to resist. But if Dillon could resist it, then she could, too. They were the strong ones. This time she leaned forward to kiss him.
    â€œWhere will we go now?” she whispered.
    Dillon struggled with his answer. “Deanna, I think I was meant to do some really big things . . . . I have to find out what those things are, and I can’t be afraid to do them . . . but I’m afraid to do them alone.”
    Her mind told her that this was wrong, but her heart was too close to Dillon’s now. Traveling to The Others might solve her troubles, but she was terrified of making that journey alone. And the thought of losing Dillon was unbearable.
    â€œThese things that you have to do,” asked Deanna, “are they terrible things?”
    Dillon bit his lip. She knew he wouldn’t lie to her. “They might be,” he said.
    Deanna nodded, knowing she would have given him the same answer, no matter what he said. “Then I’ll go with you . . . so you don’t have to face those things alone.”
    As she said the words, she felt something changing around her like a great river suddenly shifting course. Perhaps this was what Dillon felt when he saw a pattern change, and she wondered how large this shift must have been if she could feel it too.
    It was too huge a thing to think about, so she decided not to. She ignored it, pretending it didn’t matter, and after a moment, it all felt okay. In a few minutes they were hitchhiking west on the interstate.
    Meanwhile, in a house not too far away, Dwight Astor poured himself a glass of scotch, downed it, and then poured himself another.

Part III
Scorpion Shards

7. THE SUM OF THE PARTS
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    I want to forget who I am.
    I never want to leave here.
    I want to stay in this tight circle of four forever.
    S OMEWHERE BETWEEN DUSK AND DAWN, BETWEEN HERE AND there, Tory, Winston, Lourdes, and Michael lay close, touching each other in some way—hand to hand, toe to toe, head to chest, huddling like a litter of mice. This closed circuit of four felt more joyous, more peaceful than anything any of them had ever felt before. Their hearts beat in unison, their breath came and went in a single tide. It felt wonderful to finally be whole.
    Almost whole.
    The place was as solitary and secluded as a place could be; a corn silo on the edge of town, part of an abandoned farm. The dome of the silo had long since turned to rubble, the victim of storms and neglect, leaving a round hole high above them filled with stars, like a portal to another universe. The storm had been washed away when the four of them had come together, and now the air was so tranquil and calm it didn’t even feel cold.
    They were silent for a long time as they rested, and when they finally began to talk, the words that came out were things they never dared to speak out loud.
    â€œI shared a room with my sisters until my parents fixed up the attic for me,” said Lourdes, her voice so heavy and thick that her very words seemed to sink to the ground. “They said it was to give me more room, but I knew it was to hide me away. That first night in the attic, I dreamed I was floating down Broadway in the Thanksgiving Day parade, so bloated with helium I could burst. A hundred people held me with strings, and all I could do was hang there bouncing back and forth between the skyscrapers, while thousands of people stared and laughed. When I woke up, I could feel myself