by Platt, Sean
He glanced at the clock.
Jesus, it was already after 8 a.m.
Peers yawned, brushed nonexistent dust from his clothes, then shot into the bathroom, glanced in the mirror, and saw that he looked beat to hell.
He opened the door. Jeanine was in a large blouse he’d never seen, immaculately clean and ill fitting. At first he thought she wasn’t wearing pants, then he saw a small pair of loose shorts when she moved, concealed below the dress-like tee.
“Wow, you look like shit.” It wasn’t a judgment. Jeanine sounded almost concerned.
Peers considered countering. Although he hadn’t slept by choice — feeling the sphere’s clarion call through all five of the minutes he’d considered drifting off — chances were that everyone would look haggard today. Lila had been nodding off when Peers left and Charlie had returned to his room minutes after the general call. But Piper and Cameron had looked almost caffeinated. The Meyers seemed to have reconciled and were running calculations. Pointing out how strange it was that Jeanine didn’t look as bad as he did was tantamount to Peers saying she was a cold, callous bitch who could sleep no matter the crisis — a perspective for which, Peers thought, an argument could surely be made.
“Thanks,” he said instead.
“Rough night?”
“I’ve had better.”
“I was going to look myself. For Clara, I mean. Tell you the truth, I don’t entirely trust Jabari’s people to thoroughly search. They’re the ones who lost her, right? Inside the damned house. How does that even happen? Did you know they still haven’t found her?”
Peers hadn’t, but he wasn’t surprised. The Mullah had Clara. He had no proof, but to him it was obvious. They had built the mansion; they had stolen and then repurposed the sphere, which seemed to have kept right on recording Astral thoughts even once in human possession. There were Mullah in the house right now. Peers was even reasonably sure he knew who one of them was. So yes, if Clara had gone missing and Jabari seemed honestly shocked, the Mullah had probably taken her. Of course even sincere searches were coming up empty. Peers knew better than most how well the Mullah could hide.
But looking at Jeanine, Peers thought it was good that she was practicing this little update routine on him before delivering the news to anyone else. She was as delicate as a dull jigsaw. If she’d announced Clara’s still-missing status to Lila in the same dropping-a-rock way she’d announced it to Peers, the poor girl would be in hysterics.
“I didn’t know. That’s terrible.”
Jeanine’s gaze moved to the right and left, as if she might spy Clara in the corner, where everyone had conveniently forgotten to look. Her tongue moved below her lower lip, exploring.
“I just walked past Lila’s room. Doesn’t sound like she’s taking it well. So, can I come in?”
Peers stepped back.
“You don’t have any pants I could borrow, do you? Or shirts?”
Peers eyed Jeanine up and down. She managed to look stunning despite her rat’s-nest bedhead and ill-fitting wardrobe.
“I don’t know if they confiscated my backpack because they thought I had weapons hidden in my clothes or if they just wanted to do my laundry, but all I had was what I wore in … and then when I woke up, after sleeping in this stuff I found, even those clothes were gone.”
“So you came to borrow pants?”
Jeanine sat in a chair beside the dresser, where Peers had temporarily stored the sphere before running back out the night before. “I don’t know who to talk to.”
“Piper and Lila, maybe? They both seem about your size.”
“Not about pants, Peers.”
“Oh.” Apparently that issue was closed without a solution.
Jeanine seemed more agitated than usual: less distant and hard, more jittery. Maybe this was what she looked like in captivity. It sure wasn’t what she was usually like when nervous, as far as Peers had seen during their brief time together. But then again, she didn’t have her guns or her knives or anything with which she might fashion a shiv. Even the mirror and window glass couldn’t be broken into a blade — he knew; he’d tried, with thoughts of Jabari’s throat in mind. That left Jeanine mostly defenseless, with only feet and fists for protection in the face of an unseen, unacknowledged threat.
“Look me in the eye, Peers. Will you just … here?” She pointed at her eyes.
Peers looked. Her eyes were brown and surprisingly soft.
“Can I trust you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“Would you like me to cross my heart? Or pinky swear?”
“Don’t fuck with me. I’m serious.”
“Of course. Yes, I promise.”
She sharpened her gaze. Seemed to bore her glare through the back of his skull.
“You and me. We’re going to be straight with each other.”
“Certainly.”
She watched him for another few seconds then sighed as if he were an impossible buffoon who simply didn’t get her.
“What?” he asked.
“I hate this.”
“What do you hate?”
“You’re all I’ve got. You’re it. Or Charlie. Maybe Charlie. But I’ve allied with him before, and it’s like being on a softball team with one of the dugouts.”
“I don’t understand that metaphor.”
“Fine,” she said as if he’d begged her and she was finally relenting. “Cameron, Kindred, and Meyer are in on what’s being planned. Have to be. They kind of have a forced hand, or at least Cameron does. And Kindred and Meyer? Well, you know how they are when doing their Sherlock thing.”
“No,” Peers said.
“Lila’s messed up over her daughter, and Piper’s messed up over Lila. Normally I’d go to Piper. She’s had a real pulse on things lately, but right now it’s like she’s all Lila, all the time. Which I can respect, but it doesn’t exactly leave her head clear. So it’s you or Charlie or your dog.” She turned and raised her pitch an octave. “Hey, boy.”
Nocturne, in bed, raised his head and licked his lips.
“What are you talking about, Jeanine?”
“Why are you here?”
“You came to my room.”
“I meant here in Ember Flats. Why did you come here? Why did you want to come here?”
“I reached the same conclusions as Benjamin’s group — about the Astrals and the Ark, even when we all thought it was Thor’s Hammer. I’ve been keeping tabs on you using the Astral equipment I found in the Den. Grabbing your group and redirecting you here, where you should have gone from the beginning, on the mission you should have undertaken all along, just made sense from my perspective — and Aubrey’s, God rest his soul.”
“You knew we already went to Sinai?”
Peers couldn’t parse his lies from truth. He tossed the dice. “Yes.”
“And you followed us to Derinkuyu.”
Maybe? Sure, why not.
“Yes.”
“So this is all about the Ark for you. About the research because you’ve studied all this ancient aliens shit, too.”
And now, a test. She pierced him with her stare.
He sighed heavily. “I also wanted to kill Jabari.”
“Still do, or no?”
“The jury is out.” He watched her stand, sit, then cross her legs in the space of ten seconds. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Do you believe Jabari?”
“About what?”
“That she’s on our side?”
“Like I said — the jury is out.”
“Or that she’s part of a resistance.”
“She did build a privacy jammer. I suppose she could have lifted it from someone else, but my gut says no. And she’s human; I do believe that much. Kindred and Clara said the same. So if I have to answer …” He sighed, unwilling to give the woman he’d been so angry with for ye
ars any benefit of the doubt but finding himself unable to honestly do otherwise. “Then yes, I suppose I believe it. Why?”
A final assessing stare: Jeanine trying to decide if she would take Peers into her confidence or keep whatever was bugging her private. Finally the last wall crumbled, and she sat still, wary, composing her words.
“I just talked to Cameron, after he talked to Meyer and Kindred, along with Jabari. They have a plan in the works.”
“To find Clara?”
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean: Sort of?”
“It’s a roundabout thing. It’s ultimately for Clara, the way Cameron tells it. But … I don’t know, I just wonder if that’s the main thing or a side effect. I asked Cameron if he honestly thinks it’s wise. He said yes. He’s thought about it and is totally sure. He’s ‘convinced this is the right thing to do.’ But I don’t think he’s sure at all. I think he’s justifying because that’s what Cameron does. He’s ‘sure’ about everything even when he’s not. I think he’s trying to be strong, but it’s obnoxious because it closes him to other opinions. Like mine. But he didn’t ask me what I thought. He informed me and then got pissed when I tried to argue.
“What’s the plan he’s so sure about? Or not, as the case may be?”
“Do you know about the Mullah?”
Ice chips slid down his spine. Peers stiffened then forced himself to relax. “Somewhat. From my research.”
“The Mullah have been after us since Sinai. They’ve been trying to get Cameron’s stone key, at what seems like any cost. Hell, since we left Heaven’s Veil, it’s been more about running from the Mullah than fleeing the Astrals. Although we managed to lose them a bit — or maybe they backed off — after we’d run far enough from Ember Flats and made it clear that we weren’t going back.”
“Why Ember Flats?”
“Cameron and Charlie say the Mullah guard the Ark, and the Ark was moved here shortly after we found it at Sinai.”
That wasn’t entirely true, about the Mullah guarding the Ark. In Peers’s childhood, Mullah children had all talked about the mythical archive, and they’d all known how popular myth had distorted around the Ark the way it had warped around so much else: the great flood, the plagues, the reason for the pyramids’ shape. But the Ark wasn’t his old family’s major preoccupation. Much more pressing was the portal, the vestibule, and maintaining balance with the Horsemen.
“Okay.”
“But those knife-happy freaks are everywhere, Peers. Especially this close to the lion’s mouth, with the Ark right next door. I guess we made a mistake by coming back, and pissed them off. One of them must have been watching us all along. Here, on Jabari’s staff. Because Cameron says the Mullah took Clara, and that’s why this ‘plan’ is necessary.”
Peers feigned shock. Now that the plan had been mentioned a second time, he wanted to ask about it, but expressing surprise about this Mullah “revelation” seemed more important. Pretending he hadn’t seen hints inside the alien sphere pointing to Clara’s abduction by the Mullah, Peers said, “What makes you so sure it was them?”
“They left a note. On Jabari’s pillow, while she was sleeping.”
“Maybe it’s a hoax.”
Jeanine shook her head. “I don’t think so. Cameron believes it, and so does Charlie. They both know a lot about stuff like that. Jabari apparently knows ancient aliens too, and she believes it. More importantly, Piper, who has a knack for assessing emotion, says that Jabari really does seem to believe it, meaning she’s not bullshitting about the note. The Mullah don’t fuck around, Peers. Count yourself lucky you’ve never run into them. They don’t give up. Or bluff. They have people everywhere, like a network of spies. Someone told them about us, or they’ve got an agent right in the goddamned middle of our group.”
Jeanine was watching Peers, but he saw nothing more accusatory than the severe expression she regularly wore.
“What would a spy tell them about our group to make them take Clara?”
“That Cameron has the key. And yes, I asked. He says he still has it, that Jabari’s people didn’t take it when they brought us in.” A sour look claimed her face. “Apparently a vital Astral doomsday artifact wasn’t worth confiscation like my pants.”
“I don’t get it. Why take Clara? Why not take the key if that’s what they care about?” This time, Peers wasn’t pretending, or hiding the truth. Only the elders knew why the Mullah did what it did. The group’s position on the Ark, its key, and so much else was a crapshoot even for a man raised in the secret society.
“Charlie and Kindred say that Cameron needs to do it. No one else.”
“Well, yes, of course, but …” Peers felt himself tripping over his words. Yes, Cameron probably needed to open the archive, but Jeanine’s assumptions were backward. In the absence of true elder insight, Peers had been operating for decades on the same body of evidence as Cameron and apparently Jabari. The conclusion was clear: The Mullah weren’t trying to open the Ark. It was their duty to make sure it stayed closed.
But before he spoke, Peers thought of the portal. Of the secrets. And of what he’d often heard among the Mullah in whispers. The children could never understand the elders’ thoughts — even the most loyal adult knights couldn’t fully interpret them and would never question their conclusions no matter how strange they became.
“But what?”
“Well, when I talked to Charlie … I mean, Benjamin Bannister knew it!”
“Knew what, Peers?”
“Haven’t the Mullah been chasing you to get the key? To prevent the Ark from being opened?”
“I’m just telling you what I know. The note says that if we want Clara, we must open the Ark.”
“So how are they planning to get her back?”
“By opening the Ark.”
Peers went cold. You didn’t open what the Astrals had sealed. You weren’t supposed to shake the wasp’s nest. He’d told the group that this was their mission in Ember Flats, but it was only a means to get inside and exact his revenge on the viceroy. But those old lessons and prejudices still orbited his brain; they’d been drilled in so deeply that they’d never come out. The children weren’t to respect what the Horsemen touched. They were to avoid those things at all times — look the other direction and never turn back unless duty called.
“I know you told Cameron he had to open it,” Jeanine said, apparently missing what was surely a horrified expression. “But has anyone told you what happened when we found it the first time?”
“Sort of,” Peers said, figuring a vague answer offered plausible deniability.
“Something … happened when we were there,” Jeanine said, suddenly seeming cold, arms crossing over her chest. A girl who used to travel with us … she was killed. Shot. There was an accident. But the thing is, the Ark? It …” She sighed, now pacing, clearly disturbed. “It showed it back to us. I saw her die in my head, over and over and over. And there was this clear feeling of someone poring over every detail. Weighing it. Like a judge looking over an accident’s details. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t any fault. Someone was dead, and thus someone had to pay, the way a police report is used to determine whose insurance should cover the damage. We were all at fault. I could feel it in my bones.”
Peers looked at Jeanine, sympathetic. He’d felt something like that, once.
“Whatever’s in the Ark … it doesn’t like us. Maybe the Astrals are more evolved than we are, and maybe that makes us animals to them. Maybe they think they’re being fair, if the point is to judge us. Maybe they even think this is all for our own good. But I know two things, Peers: We all felt the Ark’s advance verdict when we saw it at Mt. Sinai, and based on everything I’ve ever heard anyone say, whenever the Astrals have come to this planet in the past, there’s always been some sort of extinction. They come. They judge us. And we fail. Every time.”
Peers watched Jeanine finally sit, no longer strong and bold, no longer the leader, no l
onger the angry grunt with a high wall around her. Now she was only a girl. One more human being in a sea of unworthy souls.
She’d come to him. The others were either committed or temporarily unfit. It came down to Peers — the one man who, if she truly knew him, Jeanine would trust least of all.
“We can run,” he said. “We’ll let them open it. We’ll take Clara, and run. We can hide, deep in places like Derinkuyu. There have always been survivors. There must have been, if there’s to be a human race to judge again later.”
“There’s no way to run,” Jeanine said. “Nowhere to go and no time to do it even if there was.”
Peers sat across from her.
“All right. So what do you propose?”
“We don’t bow to the Mullah and open the Ark. Instead, we cut to the chase, and solve the problem at its source.”
“How?”
Jeanine fixed Peers with a dire stare.
“We find out who the Mullah are,” she said, “and we kill them ourselves.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The next day passed.
Then the day after that.
Clara still hadn’t been found.
Piper stalked the halls, searching for remnants of emotion. Sometimes she took Meyer with her because he’d walked the fine line between Astral and human. Sometimes she took Kindred because he was even more plugged into the Astral collective (or at least, he felt it at times even if it defiantly barred him), and walking with Kindred awoke a different part of Piper than time with Meyer. It was odd: The men were identical in every measurable way besides temperament, and Piper had bedded down with and been married to both — individually at first, then in the strange but also strangely fitting three-way bigamist’s paradise they’d tried after she’d found herself with duplicates. And yet her relationship with each now felt distinct, like a before and after, though neither was better or worse.
Sometimes, she walked the halls with Lila, and often felt the strongest clues. Even with Lila, what Piper felt of Clara was like little more than a scent left behind — cinnamon tea brewed long ago in one spot, with its aroma still lingering — but finding those clues was better than nothing. Better than lying around in bed all day; better than watching videos in her room or together with the others in one of the lounges; better than accepting the staff’s offers of massages and time in the hot tub to release tension. Better, even, than sex — though Cameron dealt differently than Piper, and she didn’t blame him. Their few tumbles had taken her mind from troubles for a few minutes even if she’d been too distracted for climax.