Light (Gone, #6)

by Michael Grant

“This body keeps me alive. This body allows me to concentrate my strength. But this body is weak. I had not realized how weak. It makes its own demands. It needs food. It excretes. It hurts.” Gaia shook her long black hair. “It bothers me.” “You look like her, you know. Like Diana. The way she looked before. Back when she thought she was hot.” Gaia frowned. “Yeah,” Drake said. “Yeah. You look hot and nasty. Like her.” He knew immediately that he had gone too far, said too much. Gaia’s blue eyes were like lasers. “You want to hurt me,” she whispered. Drake shook his head violently. “No. No, that’s not what I—” “You. Want. To hurt this body.” “Not you,” Drake said, desperately. “Not the real you.” “You think you know the real me?” Drake shook his head again. He didn’t want to go any deeper into this. He just wanted to feel the satisfying slap of his whip hand on flesh. That was all. He just wanted to hear the cries of pain and terror. He wanted to find that blond witch, that smug so-called genius, and watch her fear grow, watch her— “It comes closer, the fire. In the smoke . . . that’s when we attack.” Gaia looked off toward the wall of smoke in the north. “I thought you were worried about Nemesis.” “I worry about nothing,” Gaia said, but there was impatience in the toss of her head, worry in her eyes. “He has a sister. Someone he cares about. Your Nemesis. Her name is Astrid. She could be a hostage. She could give us leverage over the Petard.” Gaia’s eyes widened. “A loved ...