Flame: A Sky Chasers Novel

by Amy Kathleen Ryan

  He felt oily and sneaky and wrong.

  Kieran turned to see his mother just releasing Waverly from a warm hug. At one time, Waverly and Lena had been close and had even belonged to the same book club. They used to laugh together at one witty novel or another, giggling at passages, eyes alight as they imagined the green pastures of preindustrial England.

  “Can I whip up some cookies for you two?” Lena asked Kieran.

  Waverly shook her head, but Kieran said, “Yes. Gingersnaps, please. Thank you, Mom.”

  “Coming right up,” Lena said and jogged to the kitchen.

  Waverly looked at Kieran, waiting until he beckoned her into his bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  “How did you make this happen?” she asked, her voice wavering with barely suppressed panic. Having Mather come for her with armed guards had scared her badly.

  “This was Mather’s idea,” he said.

  Waverly seemed stunned by this and sat slowly on the bed. She passed her hand over the silk comforter and satin sheets, and Kieran felt once again embarrassed by his opulent surroundings. He sat down on the foot of the bed, leaving plenty of space between them. They looked at each other, each waiting for the other to begin.

  Once Waverly started talking, words flooded out of her. She told him about the church elders led by an old doctor, how they were using her in a power play against Anne Mather. She mentioned a younger man who was also on the council, and how he seemed friendlier, though she was unsure he could be trusted. Then she hesitated for a moment, and with a glance at the bedroom door, whispered, “Your mom seems off.”

  “It’s from decompression syndrome,” he said.

  Waverly shook her head. “That’s a lie. Mather gave all the parents some kind of drug to make them docile.”

  He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. It was almost a full minute before he could speak. “How do you know?”

  “Dr. Carver told me. He’s working on a cure…” She paused midsentence, her eyes darting around the room, searching for a listening device, Kieran assumed.

  He took a portable reader from the desk and typed into it, As long as we don’t transmit, this should be safe.

  She took the tablet from him and typed, Dr. Carver is a neurologist. He said he might be able to cure our parents.

  Kieran’s heart leapt at this. Would he give us the cure if you didn’t testify against Mather?

  I don’t think so, Waverly typed.

  That’s why she was giving false testimony. If he could have his own mother back, he’d perjure himself, too. He wanted to believe there was a cure, but he had misgivings, and he could see that she did, too. Only a truly despicable human being would force a girl to give false testimony before helping her brain-damaged mother. If the doctor was capable of that kind of blackmail, he was certainly capable of lying about a cure.

  But then, Kieran suspected, Waverly knew that. She was willing to risk being executed just for the slim hope that a hateful old man might help her mother. In that moment, Kieran loved her again.

  Waverly collapsed sideways onto his bed. He watched her abundant brown hair fall around her face and remembered how it used to feel in his hands when he kissed her. “I’m so tired,” she said with a groan. “This place makes me tired.”

  “Me too,” Kieran muttered. He wondered if he should tell her what Mather had said about making him captain, but what if Waverly misconstrued it?

  “Have you seen anyone?” she asked him. “Felicity?”

  “She’s getting married,” Kieran said, failing to keep the longing out of his voice. By the searching way Waverly looked at him, he knew she’d noticed. “Did you know?”

  “She mentioned something. Are you”—Waverly’s voice quivered—“interested in her?”

  “Nah,” Kieran said, shaking his head. But Waverly saw. She knew. She’d always been able to unlock his secrets just by looking at him.

  She smiled at him then, sadly and—was he imagining it?—wistfully. Did she want to get back together after everything? He’d thought that door was closed forever. In the tense silence, part of him wanted to reach for her, pull her in, but something held him back.

  “You know…” Waverly lay on her back, her eyes dreamy on the ceiling. “That day, before you left to come to this ship to negotiate with Mather? And I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again … I’m sorry,” Waverly said. Her voice sounded small, and when he looked at her, she seemed shrunken. “I was wrong about so many things on the Empyrean. I think I forgot who you are.”

  “Who am I?” he asked with a shake of his head. “On this ship, I don’t know anymore.”

  She looked at him as though waiting for him to say something more, but he could only look at her. If he couldn’t tell her what Mather’s plans were for him, what could he say? Finally she dropped her eyes with visible disappointment.

  If Mather was listening, and he thought she probably was, shouldn’t he try to talk to Waverly as she’d asked? Whatever happened, he needed to seem like he was on Mather’s side, at least until Waverly was able to get the cure from the doctor, if there was one.

  “Waverly,” Kieran knelt on the floor in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “What?” She gave a half turn away from him, casting her face in shadow.

  Kieran took up the portable pad and typed, Mather might be listening. This is a performance. Understand?

  She sat very still as though bracing herself.

  “When you testified for the church elders,” Kieran said, “Mather says you were lying.” He took in a deep breath, put his hand on hers firmly, willing her to feel his friendship in his grasp. “Were you?”

  Her face took on a rage so rapid and intense he instinctively leaned away. “Did Mather set this up with you? Are you supposed to talk me out of testifying?” She looked around the room as though she were already caged.

  Kieran nodded slowly and mouthed the words, Play along.

  “I’m afraid you’re walking into a trap,” he said aloud. “Because if you’re lying, you’re giving Mather a reason to come after you.”

  “I’m. Not. Lying,” she said steadily, then took the pad and typed, Mather is weak right now. This is our only chance to bring her down.

  Kieran bit his lip and typed, She’s stronger than you think. Her followers are zealots. “I just want you to be careful.”

  Waverly stood abruptly and spat, “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

  Kieran stood, unsure about whether she was putting on a show or if he’d really offended her. She marched out of his bedroom but stuck her head into the kitchen where Lena was still measuring out ingredients for the cookies. Kieran saw an immense heap of white flour in the mixing bowl—enough to make a dozen batches.

  Waverly looked back at Kieran with sadness. He took a half step toward her, but she was already walking to the front door. She closed it behind her without looking back.

  Kieran went back to his room to lie down, and then it came to him.

  I made mistakes on the Empyrean, too. That’s what she’d expected him to say in response to her apology: I was wrong, too. I’m sorry.

  He should have said that. But he hadn’t.

  DOUBT

  Seth stretched on the bare mattress, slowly emerging from sleep, then jerked awake with a start. He’d intended to sleep only a couple hours before leaving to find Waverly, but he could tell that he’d slept a lot longer than that.

  He put on his hooded sweatshirt, shouldered his bag of painting supplies and the new can of metal patina, and squeezed back into the conduit behind the apartment, snaking his way past plumbing and electrical wiring until he reached the maintenance closet. He listened a long time at the door before he dared to crack it open. Finding the hallway empty, he darted across to the central stairway, sprinted up a level, and slipped into the maintenance closet across the hall.

  This ship was identical in design to the Empyrean, so his entire route ought to be came
ra free. No one knew he’d come here.

  He squeezed along behind the apartments, pausing to listen every few feet until he heard someone singing softly to herself. It wasn’t Waverly’s voice, but it might be her mother’s. He was about to enter when he noticed unmistakable red, yellow, and white surveillance wires snaking into the com system units from behind the kitchen wall. So they were spying on her. He angrily yanked them from their housing and let them dangle loose, then eased into the closet in the master bedroom. He waited until he heard the occupant go into the kitchen, then he sneaked down the hallway to the smaller bedroom and shut himself in.

  A quick look around told him this was definitely Waverly’s room. There were historical novels on the bedside table, and the sweater draped over the chair smelled like her. He even found a picture of her on her desk, a bad photocopy of her, and underneath her face was written LIAR in bold black letters. He wrinkled his brow, worried. This was definitely something to ask her about.

  Then he had nothing to do but lie down on her bed to wait for her.

  Only an hour passed before Seth heard Waverly enter the apartment. She said something soft to her mother, her tone of voice sweet and loving. He heard her footsteps come down the hallway, and the door opened, and there she was, standing in the doorway, staring down at him. He’d surprised her. And she’d surprised him, too; she was so beautiful that for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

  “What are you doing here?” she finally hissed. It was worth all the worming around, the sneaking, even the pain, just to see her face.

  “Surprised?” he whispered. She closed the door behind her, but she didn’t act happy to see him. She stood with her back to the wall, staring, shaking her head. She looked skinny, too skinny, and her eyes had a darting, haunted look that made him think she must be too scared to sleep at night.

  “Once I knew where to look for you, it wasn’t that hard,” he said to her, then wished he hadn’t. It sounded like bragging. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” she spat.

  He was shocked by her anger. “I’ve been hiding out,” he said, detesting how small his words were. Small—that’s how he used to sound when he tried to explain himself to his father at the beginning of an interrogation. Seth had always known how talks with his father would end: cruel words and fists, then being locked away in a dark closet for hours. These punishments never scared him like they were supposed to; they only enraged him. Now, looking at Waverly, the way her lips glowed red, her eyes pink with veins … he had no idea how this conversation would end. That did scare him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “So you could do what?” She folded her arms over her chest, tapping her heel against the floor with an exaggerated movement that jerked her whole body. “Rescue me? There’s nowhere to go.”

  A knock sounded at the door. “Waverly?” her mother called. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m just watching a vid file,” Waverly said through the closed door, her eyes never leaving Seth.

  “Okay,” her mother said doubtfully, but she shuffled away.

  Getting here had been the easy part, Seth was beginning to realize. Getting Waverly to forgive him would be another story.

  “What do you want?” Waverly whispered, her eyes burning coals.

  “Just…” He’d had no hopes for anything tangible, he just needed to see her, hear her voice, be near her. He’d been thinking about her all this time, missing her, wanting her. He’d taken a real chance trying to get here. Anger flared inside him. “I’ve been trying to help. Finding out things. You should be grateful.”

  “Grateful? Your presence puts me in danger,” she hissed. “They have surveillance cameras in this apartment. They might be watching us now.”

  “I pulled all the video wires before I came in. There’s no video coming into or leaving this apartment. So you’re welcome.”

  “Then they’ll come here to fix it.” She shifted on her feet, looking around the room, near panic. “You always thought you were so much smarter than Kieran! He’d never be so stupid.”

  Seth felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. He stood up.

  “Princess Waverly doesn’t want me here,” he said, hating the words as soon as they left him, but hurt flooded through him, warping everything. “I’ll go.”

  “Don’t call me that again.” She took a half step to block his exit, her eyes narrow, bottom lip trembling. “You need to learn how to fight without burning bridges.”

  “Or what?” he said, and God help him he sneered at her scornfully, knowing full well he was making a mistake but unable to control his hurt and rage.

  “Or you’ll be alone forever,” she said, her voice rumbling.

  The room was small enough that he got a sense of how much taller he was than her. He looked down at her for one heartbeat, two, three …

  The old tactics, the power plays, the sarcasm and name-calling, all the old tricks he’d learned from his father—none of that would work with Waverly. Did he want to be the freak his father had made of him, or did he want to be with her?

  The old rage fell away.

  You’re right, he ought to say. He knew it. He tried, opened his mouth, made a fist, tried to say it, but …

  A long moment stretched between them, long enough for him to see what a terrible mistake he’d made, abandoning her to face these people alone. Had he actually said she should be grateful? Now what choice did he have but to stay hidden and separate from her? Maybe forever.

  She lifted a hand to her brow, and he could see her fingertips trembling. She was scared. Terrified, he realized. “What have they been doing to you?” he said, realizing this should have been his first question all along. He picked up the picture he’d found of her and held it up. “What’s this?”

  “Nothing,” she said as she swiped it out of his hand, balled it up, and threw it in the waste bin. He thought he saw tears forming, but when she looked up at him, her eyes were icy. “You cast your lot when you decided to come alone. Now you have to stay hidden, and I…”

  “Waverly,” he whispered, his throat swollen and thick. Put your arms around her, he told himself. Say you’re sorry.

  He took a half step toward her; she took a half step away. He couldn’t find his voice to apologize, so he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled her to him, cradled her head on his chest, and held her, held her, held her, the both of them rocking back and forth. Her body was like a rope pulled too tight, but gradually he felt her muscles releasing, and slowly she melted into him. She gulped air, and he felt her tears soaking through his shirt. “Waverly,” he whispered.

  A knock sounded at the front door and they both startled. She jerked away from him, looking more scared then ever. “Hello!” her mother said to someone, and a silky male voice responded, though Seth couldn’t hear the words.

  “You have to go!” Waverly said to him. “Now!”

  Waverly went out, motioning for him to slip away through the master closet. He stayed just long enough to swipe the balled-up paper she’d thrown away and shove it in his sweatshirt pocket. Then he slid into her mother’s bedroom closet where he’d left the paneling loose, and into the passageway.

  He didn’t like the way she’d jumped at the knock on the door. He needed to know who it was that scared her so. With no regard for silence, he frantically crawled past pipes and ductwork until he spilled back into the maintenance closet, knocking over a jar of a yellow liquid. It smelled strongly of ammonia, but he hardly noticed.

  “I’ll be fine,” he heard Waverly’s mother saying to someone in the hallway. “You go have fun,” she said.

  Fun?

  “Okay,” Waverly said. Seth picked up the bag of supplies he’d left on the shelf and hastily draped it over his shoulder. He didn’t dare open the door yet, so he pressed his ear to the cool metal to listen.

  “What’s going on?” Waverly asked the man who’d come for her.

  “Something happened,” th
e man said, sounding urgent. “The doctor wants to see you right away.”

  His heart pounding, knowing he should stay hidden but unable to help himself, Seth eased open the closet door and stepped into the hallway. The closet was on the inside corner of the hallway so, with his back to the door, he could peek around the corner to watch the front door of Waverly’s apartment.

  A few doors down a guard stood at attention, the picture of military discipline. Waverly emerged from her apartment with a svelte man in his early forties and walked with him to the elevator. The man pushed the call button and Waverly nervously fingered the hem of her sweater, working at the stitches as though trying to make a hole. She stood with her profile to Seth and rubbed at an eye with the knuckle of her index finger, looking stressed and worryingly exhausted. With all his heart Seth wished he could tell her he’d be back, that he hadn’t abandoned her.

  The man reached out a hand, snaked it around Waverly’s shoulders, and gave her a gentle shake. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled, nodding as she tugged on a lock of her hair. The blood rose to Seth’s face, and he pressed his fist against his thigh. The man kept his hand on her shoulder until the elevator bell sounded, the doors opened, and they stepped aboard.

  All Seth could do was stare at the place where she’d been, his illusions broken. That guy was good-looking, he’d had his hand on her shoulder, and she let him keep it there. No, she didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

  She doesn’t love you, a voice inside him whispered.

  “Hey!” The word smacked him into reality, and he turned to look down the corridor behind him, blinking with disbelief.

  A group of four guards were running toward him!

  “Stop right there!” one of them yelled, pulling a gun from his holster.

  Seth jumped across the corridor, jerked open the stairway door, and ran down the stairs. Only a few seconds passed before he heard the guards enter the stairwell above him, one of them shouting, “He’s headed toward the biosphere levels!”