Jasper put his hands on Truman’s shoulders.
“I admire your bravery,” he said, and everyone nodded in agreement. “And I appreciate that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for our benefit and for everything we’ve sworn to protect. But I can’t let you do it. If we lose you, we’re ruined. We’ll have to find another way.”
Jasper patted Truman’s shoulders and turned away from him.
“I’m not asking for your permission,” said Truman. “I’m doing this, with or without your blessing. I created this mess, and I’m going to get us out. Or I’m going to die trying.”
Jasper looked at him with shock and admiration.
“Without the ability to create, to build, to imagine a better life, I would have died a long time ago,” Truman said. “And there are a lot of other people like me, people who live on dreams and who take refuge from the world through their imaginations. What about them? Do we condemn them and their dreams because we’re too afraid to fight for ours? If we don’t stop Cassandra, it’s the same as delivering every creative mind alive to her door. The human imagination as we know it will die. Forever. And I won’t let that happen. So I’m going to the In-Between tomorrow. And I’m taking Emerson with me.”
“Emerson?” said Oliver. “We agreed there wouldn’t be a meeting with Cassandra and Emerson. You’re not taking my daughter anywhere. You’re not going to jeopardize her life.”
“Her life’s already in jeopardy,” Truman said. “All our lives are in jeopardy. Emerson needs to see what she’s up against. Now.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what my daughter needs!” shouted Oliver as he stood toe to toe with Truman. “She is all the family I have. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you, Truman? You don’t know anything about family. Real family.”
“That’s enough, Oliver,” said Samuel.
Truman held up his hand to silence him.
“It’s okay, Samuel. He’s right,” said Truman. “I didn’t have the chance to have a real family. But Nora risked her life to save mine, and she didn’t even know me. She gave me a way out of a hell you can’t even imagine. And if you think that I would let anything happen to her daughter, then despite all your fancy degrees and money and real family, you don’t know a damn thing. I’ll respect your wishes to not take Emerson with me, but I think it’s a mistake you’ll regret. And believe me, regret is something I deeply understand.”
Truman walked out of Raymond’s office as everyone stared after him.
Jasper encouraged healthy discourse among the Council members, but no one had ever taken as strong and unwavering a stance as Truman did just then. Except Nora. While Oliver seethed, Jasper smiled. He admired people who dug deep into their souls and did the work that they were most afraid to do. Truman planned to make meaning from his past, no matter what toll it took on him. And for that kind of bravery, he deserved the chance to try.
CHAPTER 33
LIVE THE QUESTIONS
Emerson opened her eyes and searched for her glasses. Friday was curled up at the end of the bed, but as soon as he realized she was awake, he snuggled closer. She placed her hand on his head, and that helped to slow the whirring of her mind.
She was suddenly overwhelmed by all the information Jasper had given her and everything she’d seen at the bottom of the Lake of Possibility. Her mother disappearing before her eyes. Cassandra dying. All those books and the creativity they held. She felt exhausted and nervous.
“Full inhale. Full exhale,” Emerson said.
Skylar had taught her a trick to control her mind after Emerson’s mother died. She plugged her ears with her thumbs, wrapped her other fingers around the top of her head, and hummed like a bee. That vibration in her head blocked the thoughts that threatened to trample her.
She opened her eyes and looked around the room. On a table next to her, she found stacks of small sandwiches, all perfectly sliced and arranged. Emerson suddenly felt ravenous. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten solid food. There was a small gold bowl of chocolates, a platter of fruit, and a shining goblet filled with a deep red juice. Emerson picked up the goblet to smell the juice; it was rich with cinnamon, apple, and vanilla. She sipped it, and the sweetness lit up her mouth until she had drained the entire goblet clean. She heard Friday lapping up water from a bowl near the table.
There were no windows in the room, though the walls and ceiling were lined with a full mural of the sky and the sea, complete with falling stars, comets, planets, and constellations that Emerson recognized from all the times her parents had taken her to the Hayden Planetarium: Orion, Pegasus, Andromeda, and Eridanus.
When she looked more closely, the constellations moved slightly and twinkled. She rubbed her eyes. The stars were still moving. She scrambled to her feet to get a better look. Moonlight caught the soft ripples, and a faint sound of ocean waves emanated from it. She placed her hand on the wall, and it was like reaching into cool night air. It was impossible to tell where the wall began and the room ended.
“Careful,” said a man’s voice. “You might fall in.”
Emerson jumped back and Friday sat down next to her.
“Who’s there?”
She saw a light approaching from the far side of the wall. A small rowboat came into view with a man in it. He reminded her of an elf.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Page. Name’s Kondo.”
“How do you know my name?” Emerson asked.
The man laughed. “Everyone knows you here, Miss Page,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you, counting on you, for a long time.”
“Counting on me for what?”
“To be at your best,” he said as the rowboat moved away from her.
“Wait! Where are you going?” she asked. “I have a lot of questions.”
“Live the questions, Miss Page. They’re all we have. I’ll see you soon.” And then the rowboat was out of sight.
For a split second, she thought about diving in after it, but her escape into the Lake of Possibility gave her pause. She crossed the room, opened the door, and peeked out into the Atrium. It was silent except for the crackling flame that was now her mother. Emerson went to her, and Friday followed.
She stepped over the ring of water and put her hand out to touch her mother without a thought of being burned. The warmth of the flame settled into her hand, and when she pulled it away, she found that she could hold a bit of the flame in her hand without injury. It was like holding a warm cup of tea. The heat permeated her entire body, and Emerson couldn’t help but smile. She held up her palm toward the flame, and the fire in her hand floated back to her mother, who tossed it back to her. Emerson returned the small flame back to her mother again as if they were playing catch.
Then the tip of the flame moved to the left in the shape of an arrow as if pointing her in that direction. She and Friday followed her mother’s instructions. They found themselves in front of the statue that was seated outside the corridor with the books of those who had been inspired by Calliope, Emerson’s ancestral muse. The statue held a wax tablet that looked as if it had been newly formed by the elegant drips of a hefty candle. Emerson looked more closely at the tablet.
“Would you like to read it?” asked the statue.
“Ah!” Emerson jumped and stumbled back into Friday.
The statue transformed into a beautiful woman whom Emerson could see through. She floated toward Emerson and extended her hand. She looked wise and kind, not quite young but not quite old either.
“Who are you?” asked Emerson.
“Don’t you recognize me?”
Emerson looked more closely at the statue, but it was the voice that she recognized.
“You visited me,” said Emerson. “In the hospital. You were the voice.”
“I am Calliope,” said the statue. “And I am so happy you’re here. I want to sho
w you something.”
A light glowed on the floor beneath the statue as she floated down the hallway and into another narrow passageway. Emerson and Friday followed her through an archway and into a grove of towering trees covered in gold, red, and orange leaves.
“What is this place?” asked Emerson.
“Welcome to the Forest of Perpetual Autumn,” said the statue. “Here, everything is always in a process of becoming. We honor the old as a set of shoulders on which the new can stand.”
Small huts nestled in the branches of the trees dotting the forest. Bookshelves wound along the crisscrossing paths overhead. When the statue raised her finger at one of the bookcases, a book drifted down into Emerson’s outstretched hands. The book opened itself, and a light sprang from its pages to form a hologram. An old woman rocked in a chair in front of a fireplace and began to tell a story.
“Every war has two sides and one goal. Each side wants what it thinks is rightfully theirs. But then there came a new kind of war, one that would have no winner and no loser. A war that could only be stopped if everyone wins, if everyone gets exactly what they want.”
The old woman looked right at Emerson, and Emerson moved her face closer to the hologram.
“The Oracle says that is your war now, Emerson. To find a way to draw together the people you love and the people who fight against them. You must do what your mother tried to do and couldn’t.”
Emerson wrinkled her forehead and nose, confused. How could the Council and Cassandra both win?
“If you are successful, we will enter a time of reinvigorated creativity and invention, unlike anything the world has ever seen.”
“And if I fail?” asked Emerson.
The old woman stared straight into Emerson’s eyes. “Nothing but darkness everywhere we look. I know which world I want to live in. Do you?”
Emerson nodded.
“Good. Then you know what you need to do,” said the old woman. She walked away into the fire. The book snapped shut and flew back into its place on the shelf.
Emerson whirled around in time to see the statue floating back the way it had come. Emerson ran after her.
“But I don’t know what to do,” she said to the statue. “The old woman didn’t tell me what to do.”
The statue turned to face her. “Rise, and bring others with you.”
“How do I do that?”
“Light fills all the space we make available to it,” said the statue as she settled back into her chair in the library. “Light always finds its way.”
“And if there is no way?” asked Emerson.
“It makes one,” said the statue. “Remember, darkness is light’s greatest partner, not its enemy. Honor your light, Emerson, so that you may honor the light in others.”
The statue became solid and fell silent. Emerson was alone again. She crossed back to stand in front of her mother.
“What does that mean?” asked Emerson. “How can everyone win?”
Her mother transformed her flame into a heart.
CHAPTER 34
WORDS NOT MEANT TO BE HEARD
Max left school happier than he could ever remember being. Today was the start of something all his own. Independence, responsibility, a way out. He rounded the corner onto Columbus Avenue and instead of dreading the five-block walk to a place that felt nothing like home, he pulled opened the door to the Crooked Willow with an unfamiliar feeling of hope.
The lights seemed brighter and warmer than they ever had before. He could see the happiness and joy on people’s faces. The baristas moved in what looked like a well-timed dance, nearly missing one another as they twirled, poured, and laughed. Flames shot up into the air over here, swirling ribbons of steaming water over there. It was a carnival of coffee. Max felt dizzy in a good way. He never wanted to leave.
Finally he tore his gaze away from the coffee bar and made his way down the hall to Samuel’s office. The door was open a crack, and he could hear voices inside. Max wasn’t sure if he should interrupt, but he didn’t want to be late either.
“You can’t be serious, Raymond,” said Samuel.
Max flattened himself against the wall.
“I’m dead serious,” said the man Samuel called Raymond. “Jasper is asking too much of all of us, especially Emerson. There’s going to be blood on our hands if we continue to follow his lead.”
“You cannot continue to blame Jasper for Nora’s death,” said a woman. “It’s criminal!”
Max knew he shouldn’t hear this conversation, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. It was as if he were cemented in place.
“What would you have us do, Irene?” said Raymond. “Continue to chase after some mythical book while a lunatic hunts us down one by one?”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Max’s heart was in his throat. He held his breath.
“And you, Samuel?” asked Raymond. “You’ve lost a child. He died in your arms, and you were powerless to help. Are you prepared to watch Oliver experience that? Are you prepared to console him when he loses his daughter the same way he lost his wife, knowing that you could have prevented it?”
A sharp pain stabbed Max in the stomach. With all his strength, he willed himself to slide his feet down the hallway away from the door. His throat began to burn.
“No answers?” said Raymond. “From either of you? But you’ll still follow him. Right to your own deaths and the deaths of everyone who’s left. Fine. Have it your way. But don’t come to me when it all falls apart. If you survive, I hope you can live with yourselves.”
Max was a few feet away with his back to Samuel’s office when the door swung open. A small, round man dressed in a long tweed jacket barreled past him, nearly plowing into him. The man stopped, straightened up, and turned to face Max. He got so close that Max could feel his hot, sour breath on his face.
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
“Max,” said Samuel.
Max and the man turned to face Samuel as his body filled the doorway and a pained smile stretched across his face.
“This is Raymond,” Samuel said to Max. “An old friend of mine. He was just leaving.”
Raymond looked at Max with suspicion etched into his face. Then he slowly turned to Samuel, who shook his head from side to side in the slightest way, the smile now gone from his face. Raymond took one more glance at Max and left. Samuel watched him go through the front door of the Crooked Willow and into the blustery street.
Max turned to Samuel, who kept his gaze fixed on the door.
“Samuel?” he said.
“Get an apron from the kitchen and then come back to my office” Samuel said. “I’ll explain what we’re going to do this afternoon.”
“Sure,” said Max.
Samuel went back into his office, and Max heard the woman say,
“We’ve lost him.”
“We haven’t lost him,” said Samuel. “He may be angry with Jasper, but he’d never abandon him. They’ve been through too much together to part ways now.”
CHAPTER 35
ANOTHER KIND OF LIVING
Truman and Emerson were bundled up against the unseasonably early cold and wind. With their coat collars pulled up to their ears, eyes narrowed, and faces scrunched, they headed toward Chinatown. The city was so quiet all Emerson could hear was the beat of her heart and the crack of the icy streets underfoot.
“We’re almost there,” said Truman.
Usually Truman was relaxed. Tonight he was intense and on edge. Emerson had found him getting ready to go to a place he called the In-Between to learn more about what Cassandra was planning. Emerson insisted that he take her with him. She wanted to help. Truman tried to brush her off by saying he had to go alone, but Emerson followed him out onto the street and refused to take no for an answer.
Now she felt vulnerable without Fri
day next to her. Her dad had taken Friday with him when he went to check on Mrs. Morgan. The savory scents emanating from the noodle shops made Emerson’s stomach growl. Finally, she and Truman reached a nondescript black door to a low-rise apartment building on Doyers Street. Emerson noticed there were no windows.
“This is it?” asked Emerson.
Truman turned her to face him.
“This place is dangerous,” he said. “Temptation is everywhere. People will grab at you and try to talk to you. Brush them off. Ignore them. And don’t let go of me. Not even for a second. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Emerson.
Truman ripped open the door, and an intense heat wrapped around them as they stepped inside. They walked down a short hallway and onto a balcony that circled the entire cavernous space. Emerson peered over the railing and saw a large open dance floor below. Music blared with an insistent beat. The balcony and the dance floor were crowded with people she could only see in freeze-frame snapshots as the strobe lights flashed. Truman grabbed her hand so tightly that her knuckles cracked.
“Don’t leave my side,” he shouted into her ear. She nodded furiously though she was certain he couldn’t see her. She latched onto his sleeve with her other hand.
The strobe lights gave her a massive headache and threw her off balance. She and Truman ducked down another hallway off the balcony that opened into a large bar area. Fortune-tellers with only a handful of teeth between them powwowed in one corner. High in the air, suspended cages housed people clad in leather and metal spikes writhing against the bars. The long bar was crowded with people shrieking with laughter one minute and smashing glasses and bottles over each other’s heads the next.
Emerson recognized the bartender—the massive boy who had cornered Max outside the Crooked Willow. Her body seized up when she saw him, and she buried her face in Truman’s sleeve so the bartender wouldn’t see her.
People pulled at her from all sides, and Truman yanked harder on her hand. Her body ached from fear, and they hadn’t even moved far from the door yet.
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