Unlocked 8.5 (Keeper of the Lost Cities)

by Shannon Messenger

  Really, she’d be way better off looking for Alvar by herself. She just… didn’t know where to start.

  “You can trust me, Sophie,” Edaline pressed. “I’m not going to freak out—and I know how to keep a secret. You can tell me anything.”

  Sophie really wished that was true.

  But there were lots of things she could never tell Edaline.

  Being the moonlark meant being lied to and lying to everybody.

  “I’m also not going to stop you from taking risks,” Edaline promised, reaching for Sophie’s hand. “I just want to know what’s going on, in case I can help. It’s nice to have a partner.”

  “It is,” Sophie agreed, glancing at the Cognate ring on her thumb.

  She wasn’t sure if she and Fitz could actually be Cognates anymore, with all the awkwardness between them. Which made her shrapnel heart shred even deeper.

  “You shouldn’t do this alone,” Edaline said gently. “Even if you can’t tell me the specifics, I still might be able to help you come up with a strategy. I do that with Grady sometimes, when he’s stumped by a classified assignment. He gives me a vague explanation of the problem, and we put our heads together and brainstorm solutions. Can you at least let me try?”

  Several long seconds passed before Sophie told her, “Well… I need to find someone. And I don’t know where to start.”

  Edaline tightened her grip. “If you’re thinking of going after Keefe’s mom—”

  “I’m not,” Sophie interrupted. “Really, I’m not.”

  Edaline relaxed her hold. “Okay, good. I can deal with you taking risks, but they have to be smart risks. Tracking down anyone in the Neverseen needs to be a team effort—and by ‘team,’ I mean bodyguards and adults and Councillors and—”

  “I know,” Sophie cut in, resisting the urge to point out that they’d tried that in Loamnore and still ended up trapped and helpless while Lady Gisela got exactly what she wanted. “I’m not trying to find anyone in the Neverseen. I mean… they used to be—but they’re not anymore.”

  Edaline’s eyes narrowed, and Sophie had a feeling that meant she’d guessed who Sophie was talking about. But all Edaline said was, “And you can’t use your telepathy to help track them down?”

  “I wish. I can’t track thoughts without having some idea of where I’m searching. And transmitting won’t work either, because the person would have to choose to respond to me.”

  Which seemed like poor planning on the Black Swan’s part, if she was being honest.

  Sometimes it felt like they just… hadn’t made her strong enough.

  They’d genetically engineered everything about her—why not go big?

  Though… if they had done that—assuming it was actually possible—her life would’ve been even more complicated and weird. So she should probably be grateful the Black Swan let her have a tiny bit of normal.

  She doubted Keefe’s mom had done the same for him.

  And Keefe seemed to know it.

  That’s why he’d hidden under his blankets.

  Refused to talk.

  Sent her away…

  What if—

  “Do you know the last place this person was seen?” Edaline asked, reminding her to focus.

  Sophie nodded. “But I saw them leave, and I can’t imagine they’d go back.”

  “Okay, but have you searched the place since then? They might’ve left something behind that could help you figure out where they went.”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  It seemed like a long shot, but…

  Candleshade was pretty enormous.

  And Alvar had been hiding there for a while—and he left in a hurry.

  Maybe it was worth checking.

  Definitely sounded better than hailing Fitz and getting shouted at for things she couldn’t change.

  “Thank you,” she told Edaline, throwing back her covers. “I guess I’ll give it a try.”

  Edaline smiled. “Good. And don’t worry, I won’t ask where you’re going, or try to convince you to let me go with you—but I am going to insist that you take both of your bodyguards.”

  Sophie knew better than to argue. Plus, having Flori there might be a good idea. Gnomes had different senses than goblins. They could even see Vanishers after they’d disappeared.

  “I also want you to take this.” Edaline snapped her fingers, making a silver melder appear in her palm. “And have Sandor give you some throwing stars just in case.”

  Sophie nodded.

  A few years ago, she might’ve cringed at the idea of carrying weapons.

  But she wasn’t that girl anymore.

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised, taking the melder and heading for her closet to change into one of her special tunics with lots of pockets.

  “I know,” Edaline told her. “But I’m still going to worry. So I think I deserve all the mom points for letting you do this.”

  “You do,” Sophie agreed.

  It hit her then. The contrast between her different mothers.

  Her human mom never quite knew what to do with her.

  Oralie had abandoned her and betrayed her.

  But Edaline truly trusted her—even when she knew Sophie was hiding stuff.

  Which made Sophie wish she could sit back down and unload everything—and made Sophie resent Oralie even more. Especially since it was only a matter of time before she’d have to lie to Edaline to protect Oralie’s secrets.

  “What’s this for?” Edaline asked when Sophie turned back and threw her arms around her.

  “Because I know it’s not easy being my mom—”

  “Wrong,” Edaline interrupted, leaning back to meet Sophie’s eyes. “I’ll admit, the abundance of near-death experiences can be a bit stressful—but being your mom is easy.”

  “Really?” Sophie whispered, blinking back tears.

  She didn’t like to think about how it felt growing up hearing her human parents’ thoughts all the time, knowing how much they struggled to understand her. And it was even worse realizing how easily Oralie had cast her aside, as if having a daughter were just some item she’d checked off her to-do list.

  “Really,” Edaline promised, kissing Sophie’s cheek. “You’re the single greatest gift I’ve ever been given, Sophie. And I’m so incredibly grateful that you trust me enough to be my daughter. I love you so much—and I always will. No matter what.”

  “I love you too.” Sophie buried her face in Edaline’s hair and wished she could stay like that and never let go.

  But she had work to do, so she forced herself to drop her arms and stand, promising one more time, “I’ll be careful, Mom.”

  She didn’t use that title for Edaline very often—but she should.

  “I know you will,” Edaline assured her. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Sophie changed quickly, pulling her hair into a simple ponytail and stuffing her pockets with weapons before making her way to the stairs.

  “You’re not going to use the Leapmaster?” Edaline asked when Sophie started going down instead of up. “I thought you might be heading somewhere we have a crystal for.”

  “I am,” Sophie agreed, deciding to give her mom that tiny clue. “But I need to practice my teleporting.”

  Sandor groaned as he followed. “You’re really going to make us jump off a cliff when we could light leap?”

  Sophie shook her head. “Not this time. All you’ll have to do is run beside me.”

  Or she hoped that was how it would work.

  She wasn’t 100 percent certain, since the times she’d teleported the other way, she’d either been alone or carrying somebody.

  But they were about to find out.

  She pulled open the front door and studied Havenfield’s pastures. Most of the longer paths went uphill, but the one that led to the cliffs stayed mostly flat, which would hopefully make it easier to build up momentum—and if it didn’t work, they could always change plans and jump off the edge.


  “Okay,” she said, reaching for Sandor with one hand and Flori with the other. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to rally her concentration. “Here goes nothing.”

  * * *

  “For the record,” Sandor grumbled as they struggled to stop their sprint, “that was worse than jumping off a cliff.”

  Sophie disagreed—though she also wasn’t sure if she knew exactly what had happened.

  One second she’d been running—channeling energy to her legs to go faster, faster, faster. Then Sandor and Flori had started to lag behind, so she’d tightened her grip and pushed herself even harder. Next thing she knew, her feet were barely touching the ground, and Sandor and Flori were half floating, half flailing as she dragged them into the void.

  Then she pictured Candleshade, and they were there, stumbling along the overgrown path that led to the main entrance.

  “I thought it was exhilarating,” Flori breathed. “Such a special glimpse of the moonlark’s strength and power.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sophie mumbled, bending to lower her head between her knees.

  Now that she’d stopped running, everything was spinning and her lungs felt like they were going to explode.

  “I do,” Flori insisted. “You carried both of us as though we were dandelion seeds caught on a breeze. And while I may be small, Sandor definitely isn’t.”

  Sandor straightened to his full height, and Sophie had to admit that it was kind of amazing that she’d been able to drag him along so easily. Her arms didn’t even feel sore—though that might change once the adrenaline wore off.

  “Impressive or not,” Sandor said, arching his back into a stretch, “I prefer free-falling. Particularly since it encourages you to limit the ability to absolute necessity.”

  “What he means,” Flori told Sophie, “is he doesn’t like that you can now go anywhere, anytime, without needing one of your crystals, or a cliff, or me to sing to the roots to carry you. All you need is a bit of speed. And I’m happy for you to have that freedom—and proud to watch the moonlark find her wings. I just hope you’ll continue carrying me with you.”

  “I don’t hope, I insist,” Sandor corrected, gripping the hilt of his sword. “I go where you go.”

  Sophie wanted to roll her eyes. But her lips curled into a small smile instead. “Believe me, I know. I didn’t argue about bringing you with me today, did I? And all I’m doing is searching an empty house!”

  She straightened up, needing a few more breaths for her vision to clear enough to focus on the enormous, multi-spired crystal tower in front of them, which was probably designed to be equally impressive and intimidating. But all Sophie felt was sadness.

  So many horrible, traumatic things had happened to Keefe inside those shimmering walls, and she found herself wishing she could tear them down, block by block.

  Maybe someday she would.

  For now, she was about to waste an afternoon searching through dusty, abandoned rooms and finding nothing useful—which was a terrible attitude, she knew. But she’d done these kinds of searches too many times to have any real hope.

  Still, she made her way to the front door, which looked disproportionately small compared to the two-hundred-story structure.

  “Do you think we should knock?” she wondered.

  Sandor sniffed the air. “Yes. Because we’re not the only ones here.”

  Sophie reached for her melder. “Who—”

  Before she could finish the question, the door opened, and there was Lord Cassius, looking as arrogant and pristine as ever.

  But the real surprise was the boy standing beside him, staring guiltily at his feet as she whispered, “Fitz?”

  - SIX - KEEFE

  Wow, you’re really not going to talk?” Dex asked, resting his hands on his hips as he turned a slow circle to study Keefe’s extra sparkly new bedroom. “I figured Elwin was either exaggerating that part, or you were messing with him.”

  Keefe pressed his lips tighter and shook his head.

  His throat felt thick and scratchy from the lack of use. But he wasn’t going to risk it, because even with the sedative, he’d spent most of the night dreaming about Sophie’s eerie blank stare.

  Was that what his mom wanted?

  Was he her way of neutralizing the Black Swan’s moonlark?

  Or was that only the beginning?

  His mom craved power and control—and now she’d given him an ability that let him turn everyone around him into useless, mindless shells.

  People with no feelings.

  No fear.

  No guilt.

  And if they were given the right commands?

  Boom—instant ruthless army!

  Ro sighed and turned to Dex. “In case you were wondering, he’s overthinking everything right now. I don’t know what he’s imagining, but he keeps getting all shuddery, so I’m guessing it’s something super melodramatic, like him single-handedly destroying the world with the sound of his voice. Who knew our Hunkyhair was an even bigger worrier than Blondie?”

  Dex grinned. But his dimples faded when his gaze shifted back to Keefe. “Elwin said you needed my help?”

  Keefe nodded—then swallowed back a belch, which tasted like the awful, gurgley elixir Elwin had given him that morning.

  His new superstrong empathy had faded after the numbing disaster, but the little sleep he’d gotten had apparently brought it back with a vengeance. And Elwin had made the elixir specifically to try to dull his senses—but the mix of curiosity and confusion drifting from Dex’s general direction made it pretty clear that the medicine had been a fail.

  Hopefully Keefe would have better luck with Dex’s help.

  He pointed to his throat, and then his forehead, trying to show Dex what he needed.

  “Some Nogginease?” Dex guessed.

  Keefe shook his head and tried pulling on the choker-style band of his registry pendant.

  “Um… you want to hack into the registry again?” Dex tried.

  Ro snorted. “Wow, you guys are super bad at this. How about I save us all some time and speak for my boy? Okay, so Councillor Sparkle-Eyebrows—”

  “Who?” Dex interrupted.

  Ro shrugged. “No idea. Can’t remember his name. You guys have way too many leaders to keep them all straight. All I know is the dude had these huge hairy things above his eyes and a jewel from his crown rested right between them, so I’m calling him Councillor Sparkle-Eyebrows. Anyway, he said my boy’s new elf-y ability is linked to the tone of his voice, and he seemed pretty sure about it. So, assuming he’s right, we need you to use your techy skills to build a gadget that’ll give Hunkyhair better control over that, kinda like you did for Blondie to help with her power-boost-touch thing. And personally, I vote for something that makes his voice extra high-pitched and squeaky—although it could also be fun to make him sound super creepy. Ooo, is there a way to have it switch back and forth?”

  She smirked at Keefe, daring him to contradict her. But he honestly wouldn’t care if Dex made him sound like a screeching siren, if it made talking safe again.

  “Welllll,” Dex said, dragging out the word. “I bet I can figure out how to make something like that. But… would it really help? There’s a difference between voice and tone, you know? Look at Sandor. He sounds all cute and cuddly—until he gives an order. Then he’s terrifying. But his voice doesn’t change. Just his tone.”

  “Okay, first: I’m so telling Gigantor you called him cuddly,” Ro told him. “Second: If you think he’s terrifying, you should hear my dad command his Mercadirs. And third: I… guess that’s a fair point. So, fine, make something that tweaks Hunkyhair’s tone.”

  Dex reached up, mussing his strawberry-blond hair. “I mean… I can definitely try. But tone is way more complicated, since it’s connected to emotion.”

  “It is?” Keefe asked—then clapped his hands over his mouth.

  Ro pumped her fist. “He speaks! And look—the world didn’t end! No one go
t all dazed or numb or anything! Try it again! Try it again!”

  Keefe pressed his hands tighter against his lips and glanced at Dex, hoping the look in his eyes said Please ignore my annoying bodyguard and answer the question I accidentally asked, because emotion might be a clue to what’s happening with this ability.

  “Think about it,” Dex told him. “When you feel sad or angry, your tone changes, right?”

  Keefe nodded slowly.

  He hadn’t really considered what he’d been feeling when he’d numbed everybody. He’d been more focused on how Sophie’s emotions had overloaded his brain.

  But… when he’d touched Sophie’s hand and everything turned overwhelming, some part of him had been terrified that he’d never be able to get close to her again. And that made him desperate to do anything to stop the chaos.

  He’d also been just as scared and desperate when he was trying to figure out how to snap everyone out of it.

  Though… the first few words he’d tried hadn’t worked, and he’d been just as emotional when he said those. So there had to be some other variable—some other connection—between the two effective commands.

  His mind drifted back to the moment right before he’d finally found the word that brought everyone out of the daze.

  What had he done differently for that command?

  He’d made himself stop, take a deep breath, and think. And then…

  He seriously had no idea.

  Somehow he just knew the word he needed to say—knew it would work even before he said it.

  Was that… confidence?

  Maybe—but that couldn’t be the connection either, since he definitely hadn’t been feeling confident when he numbed everyone.

  There had to be something else.

  And then he realized…

  It was all about him.

  His wants—or maybe it made more sense to call it his needs. Either way, it was that craving—that desire—that took over and made him do whatever it took to get his way.

  Which was actually super terrifying, since his mom could easily use that to manipulate him.

  She knew his hopes and fears and dreams.

  And she knew exactly how to stack them against him.