Nightfall

by Shannon Messenger

  Sophie shared the same worry—but that wasn’t what she needed to be focusing on at the moment.

  “What kind of beast did you make?” she asked. “Or beasts, I guess I should say.”

  Lady Gisela’s voice sounded almost dreamy when she said, “I call them my gorgodons. Part flareadon, for their flame resistance. Part gorgonops for their fangs. Part argentavis for their wingspan. And part eurypterid, for their stinging tails. Equally at home on land, in the sea, or in the sky—”

  “Wouldn’t that be a gorgentaveridon?” Fitz interrupted. “It seems like the argentavis and eurypterid should be in the name.”

  Lady Gisela sighed. “Clearly this is why you get along so well with my son.”

  Fitz shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my fault you chose a stupid name—which also sounds too much like a gorgonops, by the way.”

  “Can we focus?” Sophie jumped in. “You’re telling me you grew three mutant creatures—”

  “Hatched,” Lady Gisela corrected. “From fire. Weren’t you wondering if the Everblaze had served some larger purpose? You don’t get much larger than these.”

  “That’s how you made the creatures?” Of all the theories Sophie had come up with, mutant beast creation definitely hadn’t been one of them.

  “That’s how I hatched them,” Lady Gisela corrected. “I’d started making batches of eggs years earlier, but could never find a powerful enough heat source to incubate them. I’d actually given up on the project, until Fintan suggested using Everblaze. We tried a controlled burn first, but the eggs needed the kind of heat that only comes from a true, out-of-control wildfire. And since Brant had already been planning a firestorm, we arranged ten of the blazes specifically for incubating and hatching.”

  “Ten,” Sophie repeated. “I thought you said there were three.”

  “The process didn’t go exactly the way I’d expected,” Lady Gisela admitted. “Genetics are . . . complicated. Despite my careful research, the gorgodons are covered in argentavis feathers instead of flareadon fur. So once the eggs finally cracked, most of the hatchlings were consumed by the flames. Fintan and Brant were able to steer the fire away—and Ruy was able to encase his in a force field until the fires moved along. But the rest of us could only stand by as life was given—and then taken away. Honestly, though, that turned out to be an advantage. The gorgodons are much deadlier than I anticipated. They have venomous fangs, venomous talons, and venomous spikes on their tails—as well as the ability to fly, breathe underwater, scale walls, and camouflage themselves.”

  Grizel breathed a word Sophie didn’t understand. But she did catch when Sandor mumbled, “Abomination.”

  “And yet you willingly put your life on the line to protect something just as unnatural,” Lady Gisela told him.

  Sophie should’ve been insulted, but she was too busy trying to picture what the gorgodons must look like. No matter which way her mind combined the various creatures, the end result was huge and horrifying.

  Fitz—thankfully—seemed to be thinking more clearly.

  “Hang on,” he said. “The Everblaze attack happened way after Keefe’s memory of you bringing him to Nightfall and using his blood to lock the facility.”

  “Yes, and I already told you, my gorgodons are a security measure I added later.”

  “But how did you get in without Keefe?” Sophie asked. “Or is that another memory you stole from him?”

  “No. By the time the hatchlings were strong enough to be moved to Nightfall, Keefe had grown far too uncooperative to assist me—unless it was unwittingly. But all I needed was his blood. And he was so distraught after attending your planting, Sophie, that I didn’t even have to convince him to take the sedatives.”

  Sophie’s heart seemed to still. “You drugged him and stole his blood after my funeral?”

  “No. I offered him what little comfort I could—a night of dreamless oblivion. And he took it. Gratefully. And begged for more the next day. And the day after that. Poor boy was devastated.”

  “We all were!” Fitz snapped.

  “And that whole time, you knew we were alive!” Sophie added.

  “Well, yes, but I couldn’t exactly tell anyone that, now could I? Besides, your final fates were still very much undetermined.”

  Fitz wrapped his arm around her as Sophie’s mind replayed the sickening moment when Brant had ordered both her and Dex’s deaths.

  “You’re even more heartless than I thought,” Sophie said, rubbing the knot of emotions in her chest, trying to keep them bound together.

  “Said the girl who used my son’s blood to hail me today.”

  “I’m not the one who spilled that blood!” Sophie snapped back.

  “But you still took it. And used it. How very ruthless of you. No need to look ashamed. It’s good to see there’s hope for you yet.”

  “Hope for what?” Sophie asked, not sure why she was bothering.

  Of course Lady Gisela told her, “Things you’re still not ready to accept.”

  “We’re getting off track,” Fitz said, pulling Sophie closer. “If these beasts are running loose in Nightfall, how did the Neverseen get past them?”

  “The gorgodons have one weakness—the same weakness that destroyed the other seven we hatched. Which was why Fintan and I had agreed that when Nightfall was ready for use, he would contain them behind walls of balefire at the only access point to the facility to ensure that no one could get in or out unless we wanted them to. I see no reason why he would deviate from that plan—especially since he has to be preparing for you to come after your family.”

  “And there’s no other way to get in?” Fitz asked.

  “No. The dwarves who helped me construct the facility took measures to ensure that no one would be able to tunnel in. You’ll have to go in the usual way and sneak past the gorgodons.”

  “Or, let me go first and I’ll go hunting,” Grizel offered.

  Sophie’s stomach soured.

  The gorgodons might sound terrifying, but killing them didn’t seem right—especially since the creatures were only doing what they’d been bred to do.

  The nausea grew when Lady Gisela told Grizel, “You’d be dead long before you ever swiped your blade. Sneaking past them is the only way to get through—and it’s not as difficult as you’re imagining. The trick is to hide your scent the same way I snuck into Havenfield to deliver my message.”

  “Ash?” Sandor guessed.

  “From Everblaze,” Lady Gisela clarified. “The flames leave behind different elements than regular flames, which gives the ash a quality that blocks other scents. Cover yourself from head to toe—don’t miss an inch. You’ll look ridiculous, and you’ll be washing ash out of your hair for hours, but the gorgodons can’t smell you as long as the ash is there. And make sure you bring extra to cover your family once you find them, otherwise they’ll give you away when you try to sneak out. You’ll also want to go in with as small of a group as possible. I’d advise against more than four—and I wouldn’t recommend including a goblin. Their scent is much stronger than ours.”

  “You’re not going without me,” Sandor informed them.

  “If you care about your charge,” Lady Gisela told him, “you’ll listen to me. I know you want to believe you can come up with some simpler way to do this, but I was very thorough when I designed this security.”

  “Assuming you’re right,” Grizel said in a tone that made it clear she was not happy about that assumption, “won’t they be trapped in the same cage of flames holding the gorgodons?”

  “Look for the flame that rises higher than the others—that one’s always an illusion. It will be too narrow for the creatures to pass, but your group will have no problem fitting if you go one at a time.”

  “You expect us to walk through fire just because you’re telling us it’s safe?” Fitz asked.

  “Yes. Because I need you alive. And if I wanted to kill you, why would I bother warning you about the gorgodons?”

 
“Fair enough,” Sophie decided. “Once we’re free of the corral, where do we go? Can you give us a map of the facility?”

  “There’s only one place Fintan would have your family. On the fourth level, I designed a special observation room.”

  Sophie had to remind herself to breathe. “Why are they being observed?”

  “Any number of reasons. And worrying about them won’t change anything. If you want to help your family, get into Nightfall and take them back. You’ll be entering on the second level, so you’ll only need to make your way up two floors. You’ll reach the main staircase if you keep right in all the forks off the main corridor. Don’t try to open any of the doors you pass—you’ll trigger alarms. And never go to the left—you’ll get hopelessly lost. None of this is a trick, by the way. I know how you think, and I know you don’t want to trust me. But I need your family out of Nightfall just as much as you do. So stay on the main path, keep right, and once you take the stairs to the fourth floor, then go left. You’ll know the observation room once you see it. It’ll probably be locked, but Keefe’s blood is a master key.”

  “What if we run into the Neverseen?” Fitz asked.

  “I’m assuming you can handle them, given the havoc I’ve seen you cause. Besides, if I know Fintan, he’ll assign Ruy to keep an eye on things in Nightfall and have everyone else out working on other pieces of his vision. Surely you can handle one Psionipath.”

  Fitz leaned closer to Sophie. “We should probably bring Tam.”

  Sophie nodded.

  Tam’s shadows could break through Ruy’s force fields.

  “So it’ll be you, me, Tam, and Grizel?” she whispered back.

  “Bad idea,” a high-pitched voice said behind them, and they all flinched as Biana appeared in the corner. “If stealth is key, don’t you think you should bring someone who can disappear?”

  “Have you been eavesdropping this whole time?” Fitz asked.

  Biana didn’t look the least bit sorry.

  Sandor sighed. “Where’s your bodyguard?”

  “Don’t blame Woltzer. None of you would’ve been able to stop me from sneaking out either. Just like none of you could tell I was here, could you?”

  “It’s hard to smell anything beyond your brother’s cologne,” Sandor grumbled.

  Biana grinned. “I keep telling him it’s overkill.”

  “Hey, I like it,” Sophie argued—cheeks flushing with the confession.

  “I’ll leave that one alone,” Biana told her. “But you have to admit it makes way more sense for me to go with you to Nightfall than Fitz. I know he’s going to use the ‘we’re Cognates’ line, but what’s more important? Mind tricks you’re probably not going to need? Or someone who can do this?”

  She vanished again, reappearing on the other side of the room.

  “Can you even disappear when you’re covered in ash?” Fitz asked.

  “I can make my clothes vanish. Why would ash be any different?”

  “You should test it before you go,” Lady Gisela warned. “As I said, ash from the Everblaze is different.”

  “And where, exactly, are we supposed to get this ash?” Sophie asked.

  “There’s hardly a shortage. Just go to any of the firestorm sites that aren’t buried in flowers at the moment.”

  Sophie sat up straighter. “Why not the ones with flowers?”

  “Because I hear they’re quite crowded with humans admiring nature’s splendor, and I’m assuming you’re going for discretion.”

  The explanation made sense—but Lady Gisela had hesitated half a second before she’d given it.

  “What’s the real reason you don’t want us going there?” Sophie pressed.

  “I’m not telling you to stay away. I’m telling you that if you need ash, that’s the wrong place to look. There isn’t any ash left.”

  “You expect me to believe you’ve removed all the ash from twenty burn sites?” Sophie argued.

  “I never said I was the one who gathered it.”

  “So the Neverseen did?”

  Silence was the only answer, which told Sophie enough.

  “Do you know what flowers they’re talking about?” Biana whispered to her brother.

  “Quinlin found articles,” Sophie explained, “talking about a phenomenon the humans are calling the Extraordinary Efflorescence. A bunch of the fire sites are covered in rare wildflowers right now, and no one knows why.”

  “Why would you plant a bunch of flowers?” Fitz asked Lady Gisela.

  “That information isn’t part of our bargain,” she told him. “And I hope you won’t be foolish enough to let this distract you from getting yourself to Nightfall.”

  “Why?” Fitz asked. “What’s in it for you?”

  “I already told you—I need more information on what the Neverseen are doing there. Especially which doors—if any—have the runes illuminated.”

  “That’s not part of our bargain either,” Sophie reminded her. “And don’t even think about threatening to withhold information on Cyrah for this.”

  “There’s no need. Once you collect your parents, you’ll be desperate to cut another bargain with me.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Fitz asked.

  “Because if I’m right about what Fintan’s been doing to them in Nightfall, you’re going to need my help restoring their sanity.”

  Thirty-eight

  RESTORING THEIR SANITY.

  The words were too sharp—too heavy—too much.

  They pressed in from every direction, squeezing and choking until everything inside Sophie seemed to shut down.

  She was vaguely aware of Lady Gisela ending their conversation, and of following Fitz and Biana downstairs. Just like she knew she was now sitting on the living room sofa with warm arms wrapped around her shoulders.

  But she couldn’t focus on who was next to her or what anyone was saying. And the more her imagination ran wild, the more her mind wrestled with one heartbreaking question.

  What was she going to tell her sister?

  “Nothing,” a familiar voice told her, and it took her eyes a second to focus on Mr. Forkle, who was standing in front of her, along with Fitz. “You say nothing about any of this until you’re certain of what we’re dealing with. And I apologize for violating the rules of telepathy again—but you’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for more than an hour and I needed to reassure myself that you weren’t having a mental breakdown.”

  “I feel like I might be,” Sophie mumbled.

  “How can I help?” Fitz asked, a deep crease settling between his eyebrows as he crouched down to her level.

  Sophie shook her head.

  She couldn’t stop what was happening to her human parents until she found them—and even then, she couldn’t change what had already been done.

  The arms holding her hugged her tighter and she glanced over her shoulder to find Edaline there, with Grady beside her.

  “I know how easy it is to slip into despair,” Edaline whispered, “but try not to lose hope.”

  “We’re going to fix this,” Grady added.

  Sophie closed her eyes, wishing she could feel even a drop of confidence.

  “Want me to give you something to calm your nerves?” another voice offered, and Sophie followed the sound to where Livvy stood by the wall of windows.

  “Is Amy here?” she asked, pulling away from Edaline to scan the room.

  “No,” Livvy assured her. “She’s with Quinlin, wading through more articles about the efflorescence—and I agree with Forkle. Right now she’s happy, and proud of herself for catching the details Quinlin misses. There’s no need to worry her about any of this until we’ve made sure it isn’t another of Lady Gisela’s games.”

  “But Keefe’s mom has been honest about everything else,” Sophie reminded her.

  “Has she?” Tam asked from where he hid in the shadows below the curved staircase. “Because it sounds to me like she’s really only been honest enough
to manipulate you.”

  “Mr. Tam is very wise,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “And before you argue, I want you to consider this: Gisela is not an Empath. Nor is she a Telepath. Or a Physician. Which means she has nothing to offer when it comes to ‘restoring your parents’ sanity.’ So I find it rather suspicious that she would make such a claim—especially since she knows that the mere mention of it will trigger this level of panic.”

  “But what if—”

  “No,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “No ‘what-ifs.’ Try to wait until we have facts. And remember, our medicine can fix nearly any physical malady.”

  “Nearly,” Sophie mumbled.

  The word was just as unsettling as when King Dimitar used it about the soporidine.

  So was the word “physical.”

  “She said ‘sanity,’ ” Sophie whispered. “Physicians can’t fix that.”

  “A Washer can,” Mr. Forkle said gently. “Whatever trauma your human parents have suffered will be linked to their memories. So if we wipe those moments away, it’ll be as if it never happened.”

  “But what about their emotions?” Sophie had to ask. “Those can’t be erased, right? So all the fear they’re feeling—”

  “Will be dulled when we tie those emotions to replacement memories,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “We would craft stories that echo the same sentiments in far less traumatic ways. Like a memory of a minor accident in those dangerous vehicles humans love to drive. The process would be complicated, of course. But effective, too.”

  “Unless something triggers the real memories,” Sophie reminded him.

  “That would be a concern. We’d likely have to do what we call a ‘reset’ and erase every single memory your parents have made since the day of their abduction. We try to avoid those because it’ll leave a blank spot in their past, and that can make their minds fixate and seek out the triggers. But as long as we’re careful to ensure their new identities feel seamless with their previous stream of memories, they’ll learn to skip over the gap. And I know how confusing and impossible this all sounds—but I’ve actually done it before. Twice. And I have no doubt I can do it again.”