But Keefe shouldn’t be alone after everything they’d discovered. There was too big of a risk that he’d change his mind and run off somewhere much more dangerous.
And he’d endured an awful lot of boring, tedious things for her.
“Remind me to hail Dex, Biana, Stina, and Wylie a little later,” she told Sandor, realizing she’d promised her teammates she’d be checking in on them that day.
“If you have other things to do—” Keefe tried to tell her.
But Sophie shook her head, channeling Sandor when she told him, “I go where you go.”
* * *
Candleshade was somehow even bigger than Sophie remembered.
The glittering crystal skyscraper basically blotted out the sun.
And boy, was it depressing.
Keefe’s house had always felt cold and unwelcoming—but now the once shimmering rooms were coated in dust and grime and were in total chaos from all the hasty previous searches. There was also quite a lot of smashed stuff that seemed to say, Ro was here.
If Keefe was bothered by the mess, he did a good job hiding it. But it probably helped that his search required his full concentration.
Room by room he’d close his eyes, feeling for whatever he’d picked up on in that memory, before he shook his head and moved on.
And Sophie tried not to sigh, or shuffle her feet—or do the math on how endless the search was going to be.
Ro was doing plenty of that for everyone.
But by the time they reached the fifth floor, Sophie had to at least voice a new theory she couldn’t get out of her head. “So… if I’m right,” she said quietly, wishing her voice didn’t sound quite so echoey, “and those vials your parents took had some form of quintessence in them, that probably means the dark vials are—”
“Shadowflux?” Keefe finished for her. “Way ahead of you there, Foster. Why do you think I’m bothering with this? If it’s shadowflux, we’re finally on our way to figuring out how she’s planning to have Bangs Boy off me.”
“We are?” Sophie asked, not really seeing the connection.
If Lady Gisela already had bottles of shadowflux, what did she need Tam for?
And if she’d already drunk the bottles and needed more, couldn’t Umber have provided that a long time ago?
“Yeah, okay,” Keefe said, “I’m picking up on your skepticism loud and clear, Foster. And I do realize that even if we find the black bottles, they’re going to raise a whole lot more questions than they answer. But at least it’d be progress, you know? An actual clue that ties right into Tammy Boy’s Shade stuff?”
“True,” Sophie agreed, trying to stay positive.
But after five more floors, positivity was feeling impossible.
They’d been there for at least an hour—and they still had one hundred and ninety floors to go.
“If we don’t speed this process up, I’m going to start stabbing things,” Ro warned when they made it to floor thirteen, and Sophie had to bite her tongue to stop herself from agreeing.
Sandor had no such qualms—and had apparently been working on the math in his head—and spelled out exactly how many hours they had ahead of them if they continued at their current pace.
“No way!” Ro informed them. “I seriously will murder someone long before that. You mean to tell me our pretty little Blondie doesn’t have some sort of elf-y ability to make this go faster?”
Sophie stopped walking. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. We should use my enhancing!”
“You sure you’re up for that?” Keefe asked as Sophie peeled off her gloves. “You’ve kinda done a lot with your abilities the last few days, and you’re still recovering from the reset.”
“Enhancing doesn’t do anything to me,” she promised, tapping her fingers to turn off Dex’s gadgets. “It’s automatic, remember? Besides, it can’t be more exhausting than spending ten million hours searching this place room by room. I bet you’ll be able to search two or three floors at a time if I enhance you.”
“Please let that be true!” Ro begged when Sophie held out her hand. “Please please please please please.”
Sophie mentally made the same pleas as Keefe reached for her.
And as soon as her fingertips brushed his skin, the jolt nearly knocked them both over.
Ro and Sandor managed to steady them—but Keefe couldn’t stop shaking.
“You okay?” Sophie asked when he closed his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m just… wow,” he breathed. “I don’t even know how to describe this. I swear I can sense the entire tower.”
“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you right now, Blondie,” Ro told Sophie, leaning down and giving Sophie a big ogre smack on the cheek. “It almost makes up for the fact that you didn’t think of this the moment we got here. Almost.”
Keefe shushed Ro, tightening his grip on Sophie’s hand. “I think… there’s something on the hundred-and-thirty-seventh floor.”
“The hundred-and-thirty-seventh floor?” Ro repeated. “Um, your girlie here just saved your life. I’m betting by about floor twenty-five, I would’ve flung you out the window.”
Keefe ignored her, clinging to Sophie as they stumbled over to the vortinator.
Sophie braced for an epic wave of nausea from blasting up so many floors at once. But either she was getting used to the spinning or Keefe was sharing some of his steadiness. Whatever the reason, she made it to the hundred-and-thirty-seventh floor with a clear head and a steady stomach.
Keefe stumbled toward the nearest room, which seemed to be one of Candleshade’s many guest rooms—one that must’ve been spared during the previous searches because it was still clean and organized and nothing was smashed.
“Which way is the compartment?” Sophie asked, studying the nearest wall, searching for some sort of seam in the crystal.
“That way,” Keefe said, pointing to the left. “There’s something over there.”
“You’re sure?” Sophie asked, frowning when he nodded.
He was pointing to a window, and the compartment had very clearly been in a wall! But maybe—
“STOP!” Sandor shouted, jumping in front of Sophie and drawing his sword as he sniffed the air.
“What the—” Keefe started to ask, but Ro drew two daggers and shouted, “SHOW YOURSELF OR I WILL USE THESE!”
“I don’t understand,” Sophie mumbled. “Who are you—”
“YOU HAVE THREE SECONDS!” Sandor bellowed over her. “ONE…”
“TWO…” Ro joined in, aiming one of her daggers toward the glass. “I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO SEE YOU—BUT TRUST ME, I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE TO THROW THIS.”
“THR—”
“ALL RIGHT!” a new voice shouted—and Sophie recognized it even before a pale, cowering figure blinked into sight next to the window.
Together, she and Keefe both whispered, “Alvar?”
FORTY
ALVAR WAS HARD TO LOOK at.
Not because he kept flickering in and out of sight—though he did, as if he were still hoping to vanish his way out of his current predicament.
And it wasn’t because of the deep scars marring his formerly handsome face—though they were definitely cringeworthy. And there were more peeking out under his loose, rumpled clothes.
But no—what made it difficult for Sophie to meet Alvar’s gaze was his expression: his wide, terrified eyes, paired with shadowed, hollow cheekbones and a trembling chin.
He looked exactly like the frightened, remorseful guy he’d been the whole time he’d had amnesia.
“You can drop the act,” Sophie told Alvar as he pulled his bony knees tighter against his chest. “I’m not falling for it again.”
“There’s no act,” Alvar said quietly, earning snorts from everyone. “I mean it. I made my choices, and I stand by them—I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But don’t treat me like I’m still with the Neverseen. I’m not.”
“I’m assuming that was their decision?” Keefe
asked. “Let me guess—they weren’t impressed with all of the time you spent setting up the world’s dumbest scheme to open a gate?”
Alvar’s jaw locked, and for a second his old arrogance had him sitting up taller.
But a coughing fit forced him to curl back in on himself.
“No,” he rasped when the hacking had mostly eased. “Actually, they blamed me for how close I came to not opening the gate. And for how long I hesitated. And for what happened to Umber and Ruy.”
“Ruy?” Sophie repeated. “So… Linh was right? Tam ruined his ability?”
“I don’t know about ruined,” Alvar corrected, his body flickering harder as he tried to stretch his legs. “But he was on bed rest when I saw him. And Gethen seemed worried.”
“How long ago was that?” Sandor demanded, slashing his sword to make Alvar tuck his feet in again.
Alvar turned toward the window and ran a shaky hand through his dark, greasy hair. And when the light caught his face, Sophie realized how sunken his eyes were and how sweaty his pale skin had gotten.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “It’s hard to keep track of time here. I only leave the tower when I have to find food, so the days all blur together. But… it’s been a while. I chased them down as soon as I made it out of Everglen—and Vespera turned me away the second she saw me. Like I said, the Neverseen are blaming me for what happened, since I was the one who pushed them to expose my family’s legacy.”
“Oh good—there’s that word again,” Ro grumbled with a huge eye roll.
Sophie ignored her, forcing herself to meet Alvar’s weary stare when he turned back to face her. “Was that really all there was to it?” she asked. “Luzia’s hive and the experiments going on there—that’s what you meant when you talked about the Vacker legacy?”
Alvar shrugged and then winced from the motion, which triggered another raspy cough. “That’s as far as I got with my investigation. But do you really think that’s the only thing my family’s hiding? With all of their power, and all of their noble positions, and all of that history?”
“Why do you care?” Keefe wondered. “It’s not like what they did has anything to do with your life. And you got to reap the benefits of being a Vacker.”
“No, I got to grow up drowning in unrealistic expectations only to have all of that vanish when my parents had another son—as if that was some confirmation that I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever measure up,” Alvar snapped back.
“Woooooooooooooooow, so this was all just about your brother being cooler and prettier than you?” Ro asked. “The whole ‘They don’t appreciate me, so I’ll take them all down!’ story?” She whistled. “Now that’s pathetic.”
“It was more than that,” Alvar spat before lapsing into another round of coughing, and Sophie couldn’t decide if he was actually sick or if he was faking it so they’d underestimate him.
“I don’t care about the rest of the Vackers,” Keefe told him, “or what creepy things you think they did or didn’t do—you had parents who loved you! I’m pretty sure they still love you, even after all of the horrible things you’ve done. And you threw that away to join a group that can’t even make up their mind about who’s in charge, or what they want, or why they’re trying to destroy the world—a group that left you behind when they fled Everglen, and left Umber for dead, and—”
“You want to talk about being left for dead?” Alvar lunged forward, but Sandor and Ro shifted their blades to block him. “I was left floating in a pod of orange goo while my brother and sister stood by watching! The same brother who’d threatened to carve me up with a knife earlier that night! The brother who stopped pressing buttons to try to save me as the pod filled up—did he tell you that? He let the tank fill, waiting for me to drown. He didn’t know I was holding my breath and keeping my body temperature in check—and if he had, I guarantee he would’ve found a way to finish me. But he gets to carry on as the golden child, and I get this.” He gestured to himself—how sickly and scrawny and awful he looked. “He gets to hide behind the Black Swan and their moonlark and pretend that makes us any different—”
“You ARE different!” Sophie shouted. “Fitz only did those things to stop you from hurting anyone else!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Alvar said, coughing so hard he had to lean against the window. “But I’ll tell you this: If anyone’s going to add to the infamous Vacker legacy, it’ll be Fitz. Just wait and see.”
“Well, fun as this is,” Ro said, breaking the seething silence that followed, “we should get this charming prisoner to the Black Swan or the Council or whoever we want to hand him over to.”
Alvar barked a wheezy laugh. “You’re not handing me over to anyone.”
Ro showed him all of her pointed teeth. “Wanna bet, Whiny Boy? That’s what I’m calling you from now on, by the way, because that’s all I’ve heard you do. Wah wah wah, nobody appreciates me—”
“They don’t!” Alvar interrupted. “And it’s always a mistake. You’re making it right now. You should be cutting a deal with me.” His eyes locked with Keefe as he added, “I know things.”
Keefe applauded slowly. “Wow, that was the most desperate bluff I’ve ever seen.”
“Was it?” Alvar asked. “Then how come I know why you’re here? I also know what was in those little black bottles you’re never going to find because they’ve been gone for years.”
“How did—” Sophie started to ask.
“I heard you,” Alvar told her.
“From the hundred-and-thirty-seventh floor,” Keefe noted, raising one eyebrow. “That’s the story you’re sticking with? Need I remind you that I lived here—that I know how soundproof this place is? And don’t try to pretend you were following us—I felt you up here. And if you’d somehow headed to this floor before us, we would’ve heard you use the vortinator.”
Alvar coughed again. “The fact that you can’t figure out how I did it only proves my value.”
“See, and I’m pretty sure what it really proves is that when it comes to disappointing family members, I’ll always win,” Keefe muttered, stalking closer—and for a second Sophie wondered if he was going to punch Alvar. Instead, he leaned as close as he dared and asked, “What deal did you make with my dad?”
“What?” Sophie asked, but Keefe kept his focus on Alvar.
“My dad hailed you to warn you that we were coming here, didn’t he?” Keefe asked. “He knows this is where you’ve been hiding—that’s why he offered to give Fitzy information about where to find you.”
Sophie sucked in a breath, feeling equal parts stunned at how fast Keefe had put all of that together and ashamed of herself for missing it completely.
“So again,” Keefe said quietly—ominously. “What deal did you make with my father?”
Alvar, to his credit, held Keefe’s stare. “Like I said. I know things. And you’re not the only one with questions about your past. I offered to answer one for your father when he found me hiding out here, and he agreed to let me stay. And now here you are—desperately searching for two long-gone black bottles. And here I am, the only one who can tell you about them. I even know a little about your legacy. And I’m willing to share. But it’ll cost you my freedom—and if you think you can pluck the information from my head, Sophie, remember, I grew up with a Telepath for a father. I know how to keep a secret. That’s why I have nine fake stories tangled up with the truth, and you’ll waste months trying to figure out which one’s real. Or you can pretend you never saw me, and I’ll tell you what I know as I leap away. Your choice.”
“No deal,” Keefe decided immediately. “If we let you go, the next person you hurt is on us—”
“Look at me!” Alvar interrupted before lapsing into another coughing fit. “Do I look capable of hurting anyone? I can barely stand up!” He pulled back his wrinkled sleeves, showing them how his arms were nothing more than skin stretched over bone. Same with his legs when he hitched his pants up to his calves. “I may have e
scaped that pod—but whatever was in that orange solution still killed me. It’s just a slow, painful death—I’m sure my brother would approve.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t try to take someone with you when you go,” Keefe argued. “Like, hey, maybe Fitz, since it sounds like you have a few issues with your brother.”
Alvar laughed darkly. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. And if there’d been any way…” He shook his head. “The truth is, if I went after Fitz, he’d kill me. And the one thing I have left is getting to choose how and where I die. And… I just want to be somewhere quiet.”
“Prisons are quiet,” Sandor noted.
Alvar laughed again, the sound morphing into yet another coughing fit. “I’m not going back to that miserable prison. And I’m not going through more Tribunals, or letting the Council parade me around like their little trophy.”
“You deserve worse than that,” Sophie told him.
“THIS IS WORSE!” Alvar shouted. “Don’t you get that? You’ve already beaten me! All I’m asking for now is a chance to die on my own terms, and I’m willing to tell you what you want in order to get it—how can you pass that up?”
“Easily,” Keefe told him. “Knowing you, you’ll just feed us a lie—”
“And here I thought Empaths had a handy way of making sure that didn’t happen,” Alvar interrupted, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll let you hold my hand as I share what I know, so you can feel whether or not I’m lying. And when you see that I’m telling you the truth, you let me go, and I step into a beam of light and find somewhere else to hide for however long I have left.”
“Are you even strong enough to light leap?” Sophie had to ask.
Alvar coughed. “That’s my problem, not yours—and a risk I’m willing to take.”
“How do you know I won’t hold on to you even if you are telling the truth?” Keefe countered. “Pretty sure you’re not strong enough to pull your hand free.”
“Also a risk I’m willing to take,” Alvar said quietly. “Because your mom planned everything so carefully—but I knew the moment I met you, you’ll never be who she wants you to be. Remember that, okay? Consider it my parting gift, since I always liked you more than I liked my actual little brother.”
Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 8) Page 53