Transcendent

By Jus Accardo

The boy she’d lost, and finally found again, is not the same boy she remembers. As one of the most powerful Sixes, Kale has changed in ways Dez can’t ignore.

He swore he’d never kill, and now he’s out for blood.

He swore he’d never harm her, and now he struggles to control his fatal touch.

They’ve been to hell and back, over and over, but this time they might not survive the fire.

When the truth at the root of the Denazen Corporation’s origins begins to unfold, those behind the scenes will do anything to keep it hidden.

Dez and Kale will be pushed to their breaking point. As long buried secrets come to light, they must fight for their freedom—and each other—as they never have before.

Kale’s destructive power could win the battle, if he doesn’t lose himself to it in the process. Or Dez will be faced with an impossible task—saving the world from the boy she loves.

The Denazen series is best enjoyed in order.
Reading Order:
Book #1: Touch
Book #1.5: Untouched (novella)
Book #2: Toxic
Book# 2.5: Faceless (novella)
Book #3: Tremble
Book #4 Transcendent

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Mar 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781682815397

Book preview

For the readers…

May your coffees be bottomless and your cheese sticks forever hot

Chapter One

I wove through the growing crowd of the courtyard, casually skimming the sea of unfamiliar faces. The Parkview University campus was pretty much what I’d expected it to be. While not a thriving mecca of debauchery, Parkview did have a party-hard reputation. The local college was no exception.

Judging by the looks I got while making my way across the yard, most of the guys on the lawn were more interested in hooking up than scholarly things. I got three hoots, two whistles, and I was pretty sure a short guy in a vintage Jane’s Addiction T-shirt snapped several pictures of my ass with his cell.

There was a tall guy with blue and purple dreads, handing out flyers. When he came to me, he grinned and thrust a paper in my face with a little too much enthusiasm. Back to school blow-out kegger. He winked. Then he did some sort of twisty shimmy thing and snapped his fingers. Maybe it was supposed to be sexy? Instead, he looked like he had to pee. Badly. Freshman drink for free.

Wow. I forced a girly giggle. Le sigh. When would guys ever take an interest because of my big brain?

Probably when I wasn’t mimicked into a borderline porn star…

I tossed my long black hair over my shoulder and puffed out my greatly inflated chest, taking a seat at the base of the large pine tree to my left. Since I was on Denazen’s Top Ten Most Wanted list, I wasn’t allowed to leave home without mimicking—the Six ability allowing me to change the molecular structure of any given object in order to alter appearance. Today’s disguise was a busty, raven-haired college girl wannabe. She even had this awesome backstory. Forced to strip to raise the money needed to save her blind three-legged dog. He had a backstory, too.

I’d had a lot of downtime lately.

Free drinks? Like, for realz? I said.

Oh yeah, baby. He took my fake enthusiasm as an invitation and plopped down on the ground beside me. The guy stank of stale beer and pot and kept sneaking peeks at my barely hidden valley.

Today’s disguise was a social experiment. Actually, it was more like a bet. After a heated discussion with Jade, an annoying, boyfriend-thieving Six that had unfortunately grown on me over the last few months—like fungus—I’d set out to prove to her that not only was sexy empowering, but it was also useful. She was always side-eyeing me, making snippy comments about my clothing and attitude. Really, the truth was, she was jealous.

I had a way better ass.

I batted my eyes and leaned forward a little, curious to see how far I could get. Hey, BTW—any chance you’ve got a twenty to lend me? My ex totaled my ride, so I’d need to take a cab if I wanted to make it to your little shindig.

His brows furrowed and his lips parted, but he recovered quickly. Digging into his pocket, he retrieved a bill and held it out. When I grabbed for it, he pulled his hand back. You’ll have to let me take you out as payback. Name’s Gill.

Wouldn’t you be losing more money, then, Gill?

His eyes remained locked on my ample bosom. If he stared any harder, his eyes would pop out of his head. I get the feeling that you’re worth it.

He continued to gush—I was, apparently, the hottest thing to grace the hallowed halls of PVU—but I wasn’t really listening. A figure crossing the lawn caught my attention. He was tall, just over six feet, with broad shoulders and a slim but muscular build. He wore a dark hoodie with a baseball cap and had the hood pulled over top. It was the kind of outfit designed to be generic. Head down and hands stuffed into either side pocket, gait steady but unhurried. Everything about him was an obvious attempt at invisibility.

Unfortunately, he failed.

This boy would stand out in a crowd of two million. It wasn’t his looks—you couldn’t see a speck of skin under all that dark clothing. It was more the way he moved. Like some celestial being sent to earth in order to show mere mortals just how insignificant we really were. His pace was slow and steady, but there was an underlying urgency to it. Something predatory and fierce. Every step was made with tight-laced control and executed with panther-like grace. The smooth, slinking crawl as an animal approached its prey, just before pouncing for the kill.

And pounce he did.

Gill was still talking, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Hoodie Guy. Ten more steps and his shadow loomed overhead, blotting out every inch of the mid-morning sun and sending a chill that had nothing to do with the absence of light up my spine.

Leave. A single word spoken with uncompromising command.

Gill looked up, momentarily surprised, but the grin never slipped from his face. Help you, dude?

"Help yourself, dude. Get up and walk away." Kale’s voice was low and dangerous, but Gill was either an idiot or too stoned to notice.

Gill laughed and stood, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders. He was the bigger of the two boys, having a good foot and a half in height and at least eighty pounds of extra bulk. Still, if he wasn’t careful, he’d be nothing more than a grass stain…

If he was lucky.

As fun as the whole thing was to watch, I stood as well. I didn’t want to be responsible for some stoner getting his skull cracked in half because my fake sweater puppies were trying to break free from the pen. It’s all right. This is my boy—

Naw, baby, Gill said with a huff. His grin slipped into a frown. It isn’t all right. This dude needs to step off. I don’t see his name written on you.

This was true, but technically my name was now written on him.

Kale removed his glasses, his piercing blue eyes boring into Gill’s. He was smart enough to take a step back. I didn’t know what he saw there that disturbed him so much—all I saw when I peered into those baby blues was perfection wrapped up in an amazingly drool-worthy package. Other people, though? They saw danger. They saw death. They saw run like hell while you still can.

Counting to ten, Kale said. He smiled. The grin went from ear to ear and sent a shiver of excitement through me. You don’t want to be here when I get to—

Gill shoved me out of the way and power-walked across the courtyard without looking back.

I snickered, and Kale frowned. Three. I was going to say three. He ruined it.

I took the glasses from him and slipped them back onto his face before planting a tiny kiss on his lips. You shouldn’t be here.

Neither should you. I couldn’t see his eyes through the dark glasses, but I’d put good money on him glaring at me. You shouldn’t have left the house like that. You were supposed to wait.

To anyone who didn’t know him, Kale’s words might have sounded like a blazing red flag, the ramblings of an unstable, highly possessive boyfriend who had serious control issues. In reality, Kale was simply, for the most part, unjaded by society’s hang-ups. He’d spent the better part of nineteen years as a captive of the Denazen Corporation, mostly unaware of the world outside its walls.

He’d been raised as a weapon and trained to be the ultimate killing machine, coerced to do their dirty work under the weight of cruel and inhumane methods. A Six like me, his touch meant instant death to anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. When we’d met, for reasons we hadn’t quite figured out yet, I’d been the only one immune to his ability. Things had changed a bit since that day—for better and worse.

He tugged at the strap of my tank top, frowning. I understand that we need to be careful, but I miss your face.

I stepped a little closer. You saw my face this morning. Just, like, two hours ago. He’d kissed it, in fact. Damn well, too—before I made up a lame excuse to shut him down and execute a hasty retreat… I pulled back a bit and did a little shake. The two new additions to my chest area jiggled accordingly. "’Sides, you can’t tell me you don’t like the scenery."

His lips twisted into a grimace. I don’t. It’s not you.

Come on, I said, playfully pulling him into the shade of the large tree. "You’re living the dream, dude. Your girlfriend can look like anyone in the world. From porn star princess to sexy librarian in the blink of an eye."

He pulled away and slid his glasses down a hair, eyes on mine. A spike of heat rocked through me. "My girlfriend is perfect. Body, face, hair—his lips curled upward—and attitude."

I couldn’t hold back my grin. I knew that’s what he’d say, and holy shit was it hot. Glancing to the right, and then to the left, I let go of my mimic, standing in front of him as myself. The original, the one and only. Better?

Appreciation sparkled in his eyes, warring with the frown that creased his lips. You shouldn’t look like that in public.

I grabbed the front of his hoodie and tugged him close. How else am I going to get you to kiss me?

His lips twitched, blooming into a smile he reserved just for me. A little bit innocent, a little bit mischievous—and hella sexy. It undid me every damn time. I rose onto my toes and brushed my lips to his. Warm, soft, heaven on earth. He responded enthusiastically, tugging me farther into the shadows of the tree then reversing our positions. With my back against the trunk, he brought both arms up, placing them next to either side of my head. A shield, I realized. So there was no chance anyone passing by could see my face.

God, I freaking loved this guy.

His hands were occupied, but that didn’t mean mine had to be bored. I slipped them around his back and beneath the hem of his hoodie, fingers searching for bare skin. I found it, and Kale inhaled sharply, deepening the kiss and sighing in a way that brought new meaning to the word contentment.

My thumbnail grazed the center of his spine, just above his tailbone. It was where the edge of his new tattoo lay, the outer rim of dark mist that subtly spelled my name spilling from a reaper’s scythe. He’d gotten it in early March, two days after I’d been given the Supremacy cure.

His arms were still against the tree as his fingertips played in my hair. The sensation as they moved, lightly grazing my scalp, brought goose bumps to my skin.

I sighed, melting against him, and he chuckled. I love when you do that, he whispered against my neck.

A familiar ache rose in my chest.

I tamped it down and ran my nails across his back. He arched into me and rumbled his approval. The sound sent tingles up my spine, but it also fed the ache in my chest, reminded me of something someone once said—something that shattered me.

The ache exploded, bringing with it unwanted images and sounds I couldn’t block out. I recalled the mimic, and Kale froze, knowing the instant I’d changed forms.

He pulled away. "You know I hate when you do that…"

Kale refused to kiss me when I looked like someone else. Given recent events, I understood his reasoning—and had taken advantage of it multiple times. Words pooled on the tip of my tongue, apologies and explanations I couldn’t quite push past my lips. Instead, I just frowned.

He pushed off the tree and pulled the hood back into place before subtly scanning the yard. You catch up with your cousin?

Guilt hummed through me, chasing away the unwanted movie in my head. Sort of.

He adjusted the glasses. Sort of?

She made him do it again. He’s… I’d come down to the PVU campus early to check in with my cousin Brandt. We hadn’t exchanged more than a few quick texts over the last couple weeks, and I missed him. But when I’d gone to his room and he’d opened the door, it hadn’t been my cousin standing in the threshold. At least not the one I’d seen several weeks ago. "Different."

Brandt, like most of the people in my life at the moment, was also a Six. He was what they called a Soul Jumper. Super rare and sort of devastating—when his body died, his essence jumped into the nearest person. If that person happened to be another Six, Brandt inherited not only their physical body, but also whatever ability they had. He’d racked up quite a collection, including the latest, an ability to heal himself.

Sounded like an awesome trick—until you got down to the specifics. He had to endure the physical, as well as physiologically damaging, effects of death, and he also had to be willing to kill. Because the act of Soul Jumping? It evicted the original resident, sending them off into oblivion. So far, he’d done it three times—this made four. If Denazen knew about him, I had a feeling he’d replace Kale as their number one target. Brandt’s potential was literally limitless.

Kale wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a quick—but fierce—hug. He’s strong. He’s doing what he needs to keep his family safe.

Which is what I’m going to be doing when I kick both your asses, a small, high-pitched voice said from behind us.

We turned to see a short redheaded girl with a thick coating of freckles and an angry scowl. Mom’s go-to disguise—Molly—glared at us from beneath hooded lids.

Are you both insane or simply suicidal? It was hard to keep a straight face when she spoke. Knowing that inside that squeaky little redhead lived a badass pixie killing machine was almost impossible to reconcile.

Kale opened his mouth but then closed it without offering an excuse. There were some fights even Kale couldn’t win, and she’d raised him right. Like him, Mom had spent a large chunk of her life—most of mine, actually—as a captive inside Denazen. They’d locked her up while she was still pregnant with me then took me away and gave me to Marshall Cross, the man I’d thought was my father. I’d been told she died in childbirth only to reconnect with her just after meeting Kale. All I’d wanted growing up was to meet her, to talk to her just once. Now that she was in my life and I finally had the opportunity to get to know everything about her, we really weren’t speaking.

Kale grabbed my hand and placed it on his cheek before giving me a quick peck on the forehead. He held my gaze for a moment, and I didn’t miss the flicker of hurt in his eyes. Before I could say anything, he was gone.

Way to make an entrance, I mumbled.

I turned away from her and started toward the building, but she stepped in front of me, hands on her hips. Really? We’re still doing this? It’s been months!

After finding out that the man I’d thought was my father wasn’t—not that I was complaining, the dude was straight-up batshit—I’d confronted her, demanding to know who the real sperm donor was. She still hadn’t come clean.

We’re here to scope out a teacher? It was the most I’d said to her in weeks.

Ginger, the geriatric-yet-surprisingly-spry leader of the Underground, had sent us to check out some professor that had recently landed on Denazen’s radar. She’d also sent Brandt—now named Sam—to enroll undercover and check out a student. A Six with the ability to control people of the female persuasion. Supposedly Denazen was salivating to snatch them both up. That meant we had to get there first.

Mom, knowing me well enough to let it go for now, sighed. Yes. He’s in room twelve forty.

His name?

All Ginger gave me was the room number.

I blinked. Room twelve forty? That’s it? No name? Not why they’re interested? What’s his ability?

She shrugged and started walking. We’re just here to check him out.

I hurried to catch up and jumped into her path. We’re walking in blind. What if we spook him? His ability—

She pushed through the main doors and picked up her pace. He doesn’t have one.

Obviously, a room number wasn’t all we had. Doesn’t have one? I leaned in close and whispered, As in, he’s Nix?

She slowed then came to a stop, pinning me with an exasperated glare. All she told me was that he needed to be checked out and that he was Nix. No matter how many questions you ask, that’s the only information I have.

I folded my arms. If she told you to stick your arm in a woodchipper, would you do that, too?

She rolled her eyes, and even though they were a different size, shape, and color, she still managed to convey the sheer amount of aggravation I gave her on a daily basis.

A group of girls passed, the outermost one bumping my shoulder. She offered a nod of apology and ran after her friends. It’s starting to get crowded here. We need to get this over with.

Mom’s ability to mimic was similar to mine but not nearly as hardy. The slightest bump could send her back to her original self. She could move forward, but other than that, interacting with outside objects was tricky. We theorized that my pumped-up version of the trick was from the drug she’d been given while pregnant with me as part of a Denazen trial to make stronger, more dangerous Sixes.

I sighed and followed her into the building. It took us a few minutes, but when we finally got to room twelve forty, it was nearly empty. A man stood at the front with his back to us. He was leaning over a stack of papers, talking to a younger guy with an armload of books. They finished up, and the student flashed me a smile before hurrying on his way.

Well, I said. Let’s go see what—I squinted at the blackboard—Creative Writing 101 looks like.

Mom took the lead, and I followed, eager to get this over with. We got halfway down the aisle when the teacher turned around. Thin black wire glasses and a generous mop of slightly unruly sand-colored hair. He was tall, with an athletic build, and as he took a step forward and his pants shifted, I caught a flash of neon yellow socks. I didn’t need to see them to know there was a smiley face with an axe sticking out the top on the heels. If he removed his shoes, there would be a small hole in one from where he caught it on an upturned nail between our kitchen and living room. They were his lucky socks.

How did I know?

Brandt and I had given them to him as a joke five years ago.

The teacher Denazen was after was my uncle Mark.

Chapter Two

Mark? Mom made a sound that vaguely resembled a very uncharacteristic squeak—kind of hilarious from a stone-cold killer—and turned tail. She got to the door and around the corner in record time, leaving me high and dry.

Um, okay, he said, stopping at the bottom of the row. Class hasn’t started yet. Good to know I have that kind of power over my students. He smiled and held out his hand. Mark Cross, Creative Writing 101. Will you be in this class?

Torn between chasing Mom and running home to have a not-so-polite conversation with Ginger, I numbly took his hand. Holly Kasbalm. Yeah. I signed up. My, ah, friend was coming in to check things out.

Obviously she didn’t like what she saw. How—

Mark Cross, yeah? a voice called from the back of the room. A loud squeal followed as the door snapped closed. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and the acid in my stomach churned like crazy. I didn’t look like myself, but that didn’t stop my heart from jumping around like the erratic chorus of a Screamo song. I knew that voice. I hated that voice. It gave me nightmares. The kind that had me waking up drenched in sweat, throat raw and hands trembling. Give us a minute, sweetheart?

Long black hair and sporting some seriously smudgy guyliner, the boy that stood by the door wore a confident—yet creepy—grin. I was the picture of restraint, and for that, I deserved a huge freaking gold star. Able had tried to kill me last year and was ultimately the reason for ninety-nine of my current one hundred problems. He was responsible for Kale’s most recent, mind-bending stint at Denazen, and if I dug deep enough, I had a feeling I could find a way to connect him to the assassination of Lincoln.

Wait your turn, I said through clenched teeth. Then, turning to Uncle Mark, I added, Could we talk in private for a minute?

He smiled then grasped my shoulders and shifted me to the left a bit, waving Able down. Well, maybe I can answer both your questions at the same time. If not, I’m afraid I don’t have much time today. If—

I won’t take much time, Mr. Cross, Able said. My question is quick. He stopped about a foot from me and winked. Matter of fact, I can get out of your hair just as soon as you tell me what you know about the Nine.

My uncle stiffened. His skin blanched, and the thin vein in his neck twitched. It was the Mark Cross version of going from hardcore to elevator classical in the blink of an eye. Holly, if you’d excuse me for a moment. He tried to steer me toward the door.

I dug my feet in and angled myself between them. Are you sure, Mr. Cross? This guy kinda sounds like he’s threatening you.

Able laughed. Not a soft snicker or hearty guffaw, but an all-out hysterical chortle. By the time he got himself under control, he was bright red and gasping for air. I should have kicked him in the balls and been done with it.

This is curious, yeah? Either you’ve been angling for a higher grade, doing bedroom take homes, or…

The door at the back of the room squealed open, and Mom-as-Molly walked back in. She stopped short when her eyes landed on Able, gaze bouncing from me to Mark.

Or there’s more to this than meets the eye, Able finished with a wicked grin. He turned back to me and, without warning, yanked several pieces of my hair out. The strands turned blonde in his grasp, and he laughed again. "Long time no see, Dez."

Mark made a choking sound and stumbled away. What—

Stepping sideways, I wedged myself between him and Able a second—maybe two—before the toxic terror lunged. His fist connected just beneath my chin and sent me faltering back, gasping. Light exploded behind my eyes, and the room tilted at a violent angle. Luckily, Uncle Mark had killer reflexes. He caught me before I hit the ground.

That’s when Mom joined the party.

I couldn’t see her at first, on account of the Technicolor birdies doing the conga around my head, but I heard her. Silly Rabbit. Never poke a Mamma bear. A feral scream tore from her throat, and when my vision cleared, I saw her lunge forward. Seconds after impact, the illusion from her mimic was broken. Shoulder-length red hair and the sea of freckles smattered across her face were replaced by long blond locks framing a pixie-like profile and brown eyes that gleamed with fury.

Behind me, Uncle Mark gasped. "Sue…?"

She ignored him and delivered a series of disabling blows to Able’s midsection. He sputtered and went down hard. I sighed, sure he wouldn’t get up, but I was wrong.

Though a little wobbly, Able climbed to his feet and flashed us that trademark creepy grin. Playtime is over, boys and girls.

Sure is, Mom said, matching his smirk. She pivoted and spun, bringing her leg high into the air. It connected with the side of Able’s face, the subtle thwacking sound it made extremely satisfying. He hit the ground like a concrete block. This time, he stayed