The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

argument that had led directly to Jonah’s dismissal from Nightshade. Gabriel might see this as the ultimate act of rebellion. He had opportunity; he had motive; he had the skills.
    Worse, was it possible he’d actually done it? Most savants experienced a gradual mental and physical decline, the process known as fading . But Jonah himself had been responsible for chasing down savants who’d decompensated suddenly and violently. Who’d gone rogue and needed to be hunted down before they hurt anyone else. Was it possible he’d had a psychotic episode?
    No. It must’ve been Lilith Greaves and her army of rogue shades—the undead survivors of Thorn Hill. The ones who’d been murdering the gifted for years. Lilith’s words came back to him, from when they sparred over the kidnapping of children from Trinity.
    We will destroy you. Whether you join us or not, you’ll be blamed for the deaths of mainliners. See what kind of justice you’ll get from them.
    Still. If he hadn’t done it, then he’d been convincingly framed. Meaning he could trust no one. Well. Almost no one.
    Jonah backed away from the side door, turned, and headed for Safe Harbor. He was halfway there before he remembered that Kenzie and the other residents of the skilled facility had been moved to the Steel Wool building. Right. There’d been an explosion—an attack by vigilantes who wanted Gabriel and his mutants out of their backyard. Vigilantes who likely came straight from Trinity.
    Get it together, Kinlock, or you might as well turn yourself in.
    To Jonah’s surprise, Kenzie’s lights were out, the door closed, and it took him several minutes to respond to Jonah’s knock. Finally, he heard his brother call, “Come in , already!”
    When Jonah entered, Kenzie was in bed, hair tousled from sleep. His laptop lay open beside him on top of the covers.
    “Were you sleeping? It’s still early.” Jonah crossed to Kenzie’s bedside. His brother looked pale, dark circles under his eyes. Instantly concerned, Jonah leaned close. “Hey. Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine,” Kenzie mumbled, yawning. “Don’t be such a worrywart. I figured you wouldn’t be by tonight since you had that concert. I thought I’d read in bed. I must’ve fallen asleep.” Kenzie focused in on Jonah. “Look who’s talking. You look terrible. Did you party too hard or what?” Pulling the laptop toward him, Kenzie murmured, “Harry, wake up.” Kenzie glanced at the screen, then did a double take. “Um. Shouldn’t you still be there?”
    “I should,” Jonah said. “But something’s happened. I hate to involve you in this, but there’s nobody else I can trust.” He paused. “I need an alibi.”
    “You don’t have to ask. You know I’m in,” Kenzie said, propping up with some effort. “Bring my chariot.”
    Jonah rummaged in Kenzie’s closet and found an old pair of suede gloves. He felt more secure once he’d yanked them on. Maneuvering Kenzie’s wheelchair to the side of the bed, he helped Kenzie into it. His brother was sweating, tremoring a little. It seemed that he hadn’t totally recovered from the trauma of the explosion.
    Getting a fresh, close-up look at Jonah, Kenzie said, “I’m serious. You look half-dead. Should I call Natalie?”
    “No. She’s still back in Trinity.” Once Kenzie was in position, Jonah collapsed into a chair. “First of all, I need to know—has anyone called you to ask if I’m here?” It was all over if Kenzie had talked to anyone.
    “Nope. I’ve been asleep, remember?” Kenzie checked his phone. “Missed call from Natalie, and voice mail, an hour ago. Harry, read voice mail message.”
    Natalie sounded half-frantic, something Jonah had never associated with his best friend. “Kenzie? Are you there? Pick up. Have you seen Jonah? It’s important.” She paused, waited. “Call me back when you get this.” She clicked off.
    “All right,” Jonah said, “They’ll call back, and when they do, I’ve been