Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7)

by Shannon Messenger

  Her fingers easily obeyed, curling into her palm as her thumb wrapped around them.

  “Good. Now uncurl your fingers until you feel a stretch across your palm. Does that hurt at all?”

  “Nope!”

  “Perfect! Then I want you to try for a hundred sets of that: Curl, uncurl. But don’t be afraid to stop if your hand tells you it’s too much. I’m picking that number arbitrarily. You know your limits.”

  Sophie set to work as Elwin poured a sludgy brown serum into Fitz’s bath, making the slime crackle like Pop Rocks as he helped Fitz lower his leg into the basin.

  The groany sound Fitz made might’ve been the most adorable thing Sophie had ever heard.

  “Amazing, right?” she asked.

  His response was some sort of garbled sigh.

  “Don’t go relaxing too much,” Elwin warned. “You have strength exercises to work through too. But first . . .”

  He helped Fitz sit up and removed the bandages around his ribs, then wrapped his chest in a long cloth soaked with slime from the basin. A fitted tunic made from some sort of liquid-resistant material prevented the gloop from spreading anywhere else—though there was a little splashing as Elwin showed Fitz the kicking motions he wanted him to make.

  “Remember, you can stop anytime,” Elwin told him as Fitz slowly worked through the exercises. “The last thing I want either of you doing is pushing too hard.”

  Sophie stopped at eighty-one, when her fingers started twitching. And Fitz made it to seventy-five before his knee got shaky.

  “Excellent,” Elwin said as he gathered up all the discarded bandages and vials. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it past fifty, so this is tremendous progress! And now, just try to lie still and let the serums soak in. Holler if you need anything.”

  Sophie closed her eyes after he left, trailing her fingers through the fizzy slime just because she could.

  Hey, you okay? Fitz transmitted. You look like you’re crying.

  Was she?

  She blinked, and sure enough, a handful of tears streamed down her cheeks.

  I’m fine, she promised. It’s just . . . really nice to feel my hand, you know? I knew Elwin kept promising he’d fix it, but . . .

  It was hard to believe sometimes, he finished for her.

  She nodded and another tear broke free. Sorry. After all the things I’ve been through, I don’t know why I’m being such a baby.

  You’re not being a baby. I heard what Umber said about losing your arm—I would’ve been freaked out too. And don’t even get me started on the creepy echo things.

  Yeah.

  Her mind flashed to the monster, but the beast didn’t stir, as if the warm bubbles tingling across her skin had lulled it to sleep.

  Anyway, she said, swiping the final tears off her skin, it’s just really nice to not be sitting here with a numb arm bound in thick bandages, you know?

  I do I can’t believe I’m going to get to walk tonight! Well, I guess I should probably say “hobble.”

  Do you mind that you’ll be on crutches?

  He sighed. A little? I mean, it’s better than being bedridden. But I have a feeling I’m going to be super clumsy with them and Keefe’s never going to let me hear the end of it.

  Sounds about right, Sophie admitted, smiling as she imagined it. But her smile faded when she realized at least another hour had slipped away. You don’t think it’s bad that we haven’t heard from him yet? I feel like there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance he and Tam will strangle each other.

  Fitz laughed. You’re not wrong. But Tiergan will stop any attempts at murder—and Linh will dump water on their heads until they cool off.

  True.

  But another hour slipped away. Then another. And another. And several more. And when she finally caved and asked Elwin for her Imparter, Keefe ignored her—which of course made her brain imagine all kinds of terrifying scenarios.

  What if Keefe had found a way to contact his mom?

  Or Gethen?

  Or what if he’d snuck off and taken a bunch of fathomlethes?

  That’s it—I’m tracking him down, she told Fitz, not caring if she was going to seem naggy or obnoxious.

  Need help? he offered.

  Hopefully not—but if he ignores me, we’re going full Cognate power on him.

  Fitz laughed. You really are adorable when you worry.

  Any other time, she might’ve latched onto the compliment, but she was too busy rallying her concentration.

  KEEFE! she called, counting to five before repeating the transmission, each time stretching her consciousness farther and farther. KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!

  Aw, you sound just like Silveny, he told her as his mind finally connected with hers.

  YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE JOKES AFTER WORRYING ME ALL DAY!

  “Did you reach him?” Fitz asked, probably noticing the way she was grinding her teeth.

  “I did! And I’m starting to wonder if enhancing would let me mentally strangle him.”

  Fitz grinned. “I’m game for trying.”

  “I might be too.” She switched her focus back to Keefe. WHY HAVEN’T YOU CHECKED IN?

  Relax, Fos—

  DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX! she interrupted. You ignored me when I hailed you. And we all know how reckless you get when it comes to your mom!

  I know, he told her. But I’m fine. I’m still at Tiergan’s, and I’m not doing anything you wouldn’t want me to be doing. We’ve been working through a bunch more memory exercises—and it feels like we’re getting close to another breakthrough.

  She sat up straighter. Really?

  Yeah. That’s why I haven’t checked in. I didn’t want to break Tiergan’s concentration. But then SOMEONE got all demanding, so . . .

  I’m not going to apologize for worrying, she told him.

  I wouldn’t want you too. It’s fun having proof that the Mysterious Miss F cares. BUT . . . if I PROMISE I’ll check in tomorrow, can I get back to what we were working on?

  She sighed. Fine. But if you forget to reach out, I swear Fitz and I will find a way to smack you with our brains.

  Fear the almighty Fitzphie—got it.

  And do you promise you’ll be careful—and tell me everything you learn?

  He didn’t answer, and it took her a second to figure out that he’d already shut down the connection between them.

  “Everything okay?” Fitz asked, making her realize that both of her hands were currently squeezed into very tight fists.

  She forced them to unclench as she told him what little Keefe had shared.

  “Huh,” he breathed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Tiergan’s helping, since he’s our telepathy Mentor for a reason, but . . .”

  “I know, it feels like we should be there—”

  “But you shouldn’t,” Elwin jumped in as he made his way over with a huge heap of towels. “You should be right here, taking care of yourselves, just like you’ve been doing. And let’s see how well it worked, shall we?”

  He used one of the towels to lift Sophie’s arm out of her basin, then surrounded it with a vivid purple orb and made her move each of her fingers. He did the same thing to Fitz’s leg and chest, once he’d wiped away all the slime.

  Without a word, he disappeared into his office and retrieved two more trays of elixirs, waiting until they’d each downed the doses of sour sludge before he retreated back to his office, returning with his hands full yet again.

  But this time he held a silver arm brace in one hand and two silver crutches in the other.

  “Okay,” he said with a huge grin. “Now who’s ready to get out of those cots?”

  • • •

  Walking was always a bit of a challenge for Sophie. But walking after weeks of bed rest brought new meaning to the word “clumsy.” Her legs wobbled like a newborn fawn, and she managed to crash into two cots, one wall, and the door all within the first ten seconds. But after a couple of minutes, she found a shaky rhythm.r />
  And she had it easy compared to Fitz. The sling made her right arm basically useless and threw off her center of balance a little—but if she’d been the one stuck on crutches, she probably would’ve broken a few bones.

  Because the thing about elves and crutches?

  The elves didn’t just stick crutches under their arms and swing their bodies forward step-by-step like humans did.

  They added levitation to the mix.

  The advantage, of course, was that Fitz could move farther with every step, with way less strain on his arms and shoulders—and it would make stairs much more manageable for him.

  But levitation also didn’t allow nearly as much control as human movies loved to imagine it did. There was no traction in the air. No easy way to stop or pivot directions. Which meant Fitz spent most of their walk flailing and bumping into things.

  And that was with the dark halls quiet and empty. Sophie could only imagine how much worse it would be once they were surrounded by prodigies.

  “On a scale of one to ten,” Fitz began as he barely managed to dodge the jagged branches of the crystal trees scattered around the Level Four atrium, “how weird do you think it would look if I had Grizel carry me everywhere until I could put weight on my leg?”

  “Do you think she’s even up for that?” Sophie wondered. “I know she’s back from Gildingham, but Biana didn’t say if she’s made a full recovery or if she’s still regaining her strength.”

  Fitz sank back to the floor, catching his weight with his crutches to keep pressure off his bad leg. “Wow, I’m a terrible person. I haven’t even asked how she’s doing.”

  “You’re not a terrible person. You’ve had a lot going on.”

  “So do you, and you’ve still checked on Sandor.” He tried reaching up to tear a hand through his hair and nearly lost his balance when his crutches shifted.

  “Seriously,” Sophie said as she helped him steady himself. “Grizel wouldn’t want you worrying about her.”

  “I know. But . . . I still should.”

  “Well . . . if you feel bad, you could always get her a present.”

  “True. But what do you get a goblin warrior?”

  “No idea,” Sophie admitted. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, though. You give the best gifts.”

  “You think?”

  “They’re always my favorite.” She didn’t realize how mushy that sounded until the words were already out of her lips.

  But Fitz just smiled, his white teeth glowing in the dim light.

  And something about the look in his eyes made her very aware of how close they were standing—and how very quiet and empty the atrium was.

  How quiet and empty the entire campus was.

  Elwin had let them wander just the two of them, so long as they promised to take it easy and be back within thirty minutes. And the guards patrolling the halls were keeping their distance.

  So they were alone.

  In a moonlit room.

  Surrounded by lockers, Sophie reminded herself. And a giant statue of a dragon that looked like it wanted to eat them.

  Not exactly romantic—which was good since now so wasn’t the time to talk about crushes.

  With her luck, the confession would set off Fitz’s echo and she’d have to explain to Elwin how her silly feelings literally tried to kill him.

  She looked away and stepped back, studying the atrium. “This place looks so different at night.”

  Foxfire’s walls were made of stained glass, each wing the same color as the corresponding grade level, so everything should’ve had a soft emerald green glow. But the moonlight had bleached out most of the color, leaving the room gray and shadowy.

  It felt a bit ominous if she really thought about it.

  So many dark corners and crannies.

  So many places someone could hide.

  Fitz cleared his throat and shifted his weight, making her wonder if he was noticing the same thing.

  “Think we should head back?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

  She nodded, reminding herself that Sandor never would’ve left her unguarded if the campus wasn’t completely secure. “It’s probably getting close to thirty minutes,” she said, “and I doubt we’re going to find the Mentors’ cafeteria without Keefe.”

  They’d set off from the Healing Center in search of celebratory butterblasts. But Foxfire was huge—and the cafeteria could be anywhere. Plus, she doubted it would have a sign saying, ENTER HERE FOR SECRET DESSERTS.

  “How about we loop back the opposite way?” Fitz suggested. “That way we’re at least covering new ground?”

  “Works for me,” she said, letting him take the lead, partially because his levitating made him faster—when he wasn’t crashing into the walls or ceiling, at least. But mostly because the campus still felt like a maze to her.

  Sophie had been attending Foxfire off and on for more than two years and still barely managed to find her sessions. The halls were too twisted and tangled for her to figure out the flow of them. And there were so many—for every path she’d explored there were hundreds she’d never wandered.

  So she wasn’t the least bit surprised that nothing along their route back to the Healing Center looked familiar. The banners dangling from the ceiling all bore a saber-toothed tiger, so they had to be in the Level Five wing. But the winding halls were just row after row of silent, unmarked doors.

  Some were metal. Some were glass. Some were old, weathered wood.

  Nothing ominous about them.

  And yet, Sophie could feel the tiny hairs on the back of her neck getting pricklier and pricklier with each turn.

  “Is it me, or does this place give you the creeps?” she whispered, picking up her pace to keep closer to Fitz.

  “It does,” he admitted. “And I can’t figure out why. I know this hall. I had multispeciesial studies right there last year.” He pointed to one of the doors, made from intricately faceted crystal. “But . . . does it feel colder here?”

  Now that he mentioned it, the hall did have a noticeable chill.

  It also felt drafty, as if there was a fan nearby.

  Or an open window . . .

  “Maybe it’s the high ceilings,” she suggested, glancing up at the arched skylights—and the millions of twinkling stars beyond.

  It was a breathtaking view.

  Far too pretty to feel scary.

  She’d almost convinced herself. And then . . . there was a boom.

  “You heard that, right?” Fitz whispered, scooting even closer to Sophie.

  She nodded. “Think it was one of the guards?”

  “That’s probably it,” Fitz decided. “They must’ve closed a door or something.”

  “That makes sense,” Sophie agreed. “I’m sure they do all kinds of routine checks.”

  “Right,” Fitz said, like they’d settled it.

  They listened for another beat and found only silence—which should’ve been comforting, but . . .

  “Want to walk faster?” they both asked in unison.

  And their hurried pace was smoother than how they’d been moving earlier, as if the adrenaline was steadying their motions. Fitz didn’t crash into a single wall. And Sophie easily kept up with him, her sling bumping softly against her chest as they rounded the next corner, and the next and the next.

  “I didn’t realize we’d walked this far,” Sophie said, her words punctuated by gasping breaths.

  “Me neither.” Fitz paused to study the hallway. “Ugh! Because we didn’t. I led us the wrong way.”

  He turned to backtrack and they picked up their pace again, shoes hammering the floor, Fitz’s crutches clanging with every hit.

  But even with all the noise, Sophie still heard it.

  She even stopped to make sure.

  Voices.

  “Wait!” Fitz said, grabbing her good arm as she turned to flee. “Don’t you recognize them?”

  She didn’t, but that might’ve been because her puls
e was pounding, pounding, pounding and her brain was screaming, RUN! RUN! RUN!

  “I think they’re this way,” Fitz said, turning down a new hall to their right. And even though it went against all her instincts, Sophie followed.

  Fitz knows them, she told herself as she willed her heart to slow and strained her ears, trying to hear what he’d heard.

  For several endless beats there was nothing—long enough that she started to wonder if they’d imagined the whole thing.

  Then the voices spoke again, sounding much closer that time.

  And she recognized them a second before she rounded the corner and found the speakers in the flesh.

  Tam, Linh, and Lady Zillah, standing in a round room under an open skylight, surrounded by threads of inky black shadowflux.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  DON’T LET GO!” LADY ZILLAH shouted as the shadowflux twisted and thrashed, fighting to break free of Tam’s hold.

  He spun his hands, dragging the darkness closer—each thread so much blacker than the other shadows filling the round alcove.

  So much more solid and wild.

  So terrifyingly familiar.

  And with that thought, the monster in Sophie’s mind stirred.

  Stretched its legs.

  Sharpened its claws.

  But Sophie refused to let the nightmares take control.

  She stumbled back, pressing her shoulders against the nearest wall to keep her balance as she stared at the stars through the open skylight, imagining herself soaring toward the moon with Silveny—racing for the light.

  Leaving the shadows far behind.

  And with every slow, deep breath, she caged the monster in.

  “You okay?” Fitz whispered.

  She glanced his way, realizing he was slumped against the wall, both hands pressed over his heart, crutches balanced precariously against his shoulder.

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  “I think so. But maybe we should—”

  “Fitz?” Linh called. “Sophie?” Her face broke into an enormous grin as she raced toward them. “I can’t believe you guys are here!”

  “Me neither,” Tam said, dropping his arms and releasing whatever hold he’d had on the threads of darkness.

  Lady Zillah shook her head as the shadowflux curled back into the night. “Every time you let it win,” she told Tam, “you’ll have to fight that much harder to earn its respect.”