“Not see exactly, but I usually know he’s there. He kind of goes to sleep during the day, but he’s pretty good company.”
“Well, he linked up our dreams, so we could all find each other again,” Annie said, sounding like she wanted to keep the conversation moving. “Then he told us to find him.”
“That would be… difficult now,” Regan said; his bemused expression made Shiloh suspect this was the biggest understatement xie’d heard in some time. But it wasn’t the first time someone had downplayed a fantastic and/or bizarre reality. In fact, it seemed to happen more and more the closer they got to Parole.
“Why difficult?” Annie asked. “If he’s in your dreams too, don’t you know where he is?”
“Only in…spirit,” Regan said, looking increasingly anxious. “By that I mean, he projects himself, I guess, like a ghost but not. He doesn’t use his own body anymore.”
“Then how are we supposed to find him? In real life, I mean?”
“I’m not sure you can,” Regan said slowly. “He's not dead--but when Parole collapsed, his body went with it. He survived because I let him project into my brain and stay there, or something—we’re not really sure.”
“Well, he definitely told us to find him,” Annie said, sounding certain of this at least. “And now you’re here. Maybe this is what he meant.”
“That’s probably why you’re here. I dream about this place a lot,” Regan said softly. He seemed fond, looking at the burgundy velvet curtains, the stage, even the shadow-figure audience. “Gabriel probably knows it’s one of my favorites. He might have even made it quiet, because it’s usually too loud and bright in real life.”
“Quiet is right.” Indra gave the silent stage an incredulous look. “Has anyone here ever said a word?”
“No,” Regan sighed, shoulders sagging. “I’ve tried talking to them every time. Nobody ever talks back. No one’s ever heard me until you. Probably because we’re all connected through Gabriel.”
“That has to be it.” Annie nodded, seeming convinced at once. “He wanted us to find you in a dream and then for us to all find each other in the real world. That’s how it worked with us, now we can do it with you!”
“I’ve been… looking for some important answers,” Regan said, obviously evading. “But it’s not safe for me to come home yet or contact anyone directly. Gabriel’s got a lot more freedom than I do right now. I asked him, if he ever found someone I knew, who I could trust, to let me know.” He smiled at Annie. “I guess this is him letting me know.”
“I’m just so glad you’re okay.” She smiled back, blinking fast; no tears this time, but it looked close. “And I can’t wait to tell everyone I saw you! It’ll be a couple days, because I’m not on the FireRunner and not everyone’s even on it, but they’ll still be so happy!”
“You’re not on…” Regan looked unsettled. “Why aren’t you on the ship? You’re not still in Parole, are you?”
“No!” Annie shook her head vehemently. “We got a message from Meridian, Dr. Cole—I know you’ve heard of her,” she said, shooting Shiloh a glance. “She had some important data, or a project or something—but it’ll save Parole!”
“Hopefully.” Shiloh nodded. “She’s my mom, but she didn’t even tell me exactly what it is. I hope it helps.”
“It will,” Annie declared. “It has to. It’s what—” she broke off, as if struck by a sudden, awful thought.
When she didn’t continue, Regan turned to face her, face serious but voice gentle. “Annie, who besides you made it out of Parole?”
“Aliyah and Stefanos,” she said in a small voice. Shiloh didn’t know those names, or many of the next, but Regan clearly did. He relaxed a little with every one. “Jay. Kari. Rowan. Uh, Ash.”
“Good. Okay,” Regan whispered, nodding slowly; he’d closed his eyes and seemed almost weak with relief. But he must have realized something troubling; when he opened his eyes they were concerned and his neck frill started to twitch the slightest bit. “What about Rose?”
“Haven’t seen her since leaving Parole. Actually not for a while before that.” A look of surprise came over her face. “Wait, I didn’t know you knew Rose.”
“We met recently,” Regan said, not meeting her eyes. “If—when you see her, can you… tell her I’m sorry?”
“Yeah, sure.” Annie looked confused by the question and slightly apprehensive to hear anything more. But she asked anyway. “Sorry for what?”
“She’ll know.” Regan’s gaze had dropped to the floor, but now he looked back up at them. Mostly at Annie. “She’s alive, I know that much. And if she’s alive, it shouldn’t be too hard to find her in Parole.”
“I’ll tell her,” Annie reassured him and he seemed to relax a little. “Whatever it is, I’m sure she won’t be mad.”
“Thanks.” He seemed to be making an effort to smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s a lot of people I need to say that to, but she should come first. Evelyn and Danae too.” He shut his eyes again briefly. “And Zilch. They’re not…?”
“Back in Parole,” she said and Regan’s faint look of hope faded. “But we know they’re okay. Rowan saved their organ jars. Most of them.”
“Almost?”
“I have their pancreas,” she said, looking nervous. “It’s safe and so is Zilch, because it looks fine.” She paused, then blurted the rest. “We couldn’t find their heart, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Regan didn’t sound surprised or even upset. “Just tell them I’m sorry too, if you see the rest of them. Tell everyone I’m sorry.”
“Why don’t you come home and tell them yourself?” Annie asked, sounding actually hopeful. “They’d be so relieved!”
“I’m sorry,” Regan said, with a small, real smile. “There, that’s one of you down.”
“It’s fine! You’re here now, you’re alive, and everyone wants you back so bad. Especially Rowan. And—and Jay,” she stammered a little on that last one. “They’ve been… worried.”
The smile dropped off Regan’s face and he began to slowly shake his head. “Still have too much to do out here.” It sounded like he was recommitting, convincing himself he was doing the right thing. “At the very least, I have to help Gabriel first.”
“How?” Annie looked impatient but Shiloh knew her well enough to recognize fear in her eyes behind the frustration. This was a dream, xie thought. They had to wake up sometime and then Regan would be gone.
“I’m trying to give him another shot at life.” Again, Regan’s answer was evasive. He seemed unlikely to explain specifics. “All that time stuck underground, burning, soaking up everybody’s fear and despair? He deserves better.”
“You deserve better than to stay out here all alone—almost alone!” Annie was getting more worked up by the word. “Far away from Parole… and I know that’s probably a good thing right now, but you can at least be around people who love you, or let them know you’re okay!”
“You can tell them,” Regan said, quietly but firmly. “I’d love it if you did. But I can’t go with you.”
“You don’t have to stay away, nobody wants that!”
“It’s not about what I want.” His self-convincing tone was back, but his voice didn’t waver. “It’s about what’s safe for everyone. And I am home, in a way.” He looked up at the stage, the lights above, the thick curtain. “It’s nice to have good dreams for a change.”
“But where are you when you wake up?” Annie asked immediately. “In the real world?”
He seemed about to laugh, a fond smile replacing his heavy fatigue and lonely determination. “You haven’t changed at all. Good. Hang onto that.”
“Yeah, I’m stubborn,” she said, folding her arms and looking up at him, but not glaring. “Almost as much as you. Just tell us where you are and what you’re doing, then we’ll stop worrying so much!”
“I’m…” Regan hesitated, tongue flicking in and out. He seemed to consider his next words very caref
ully. “I’m not in Parole.”
“We know.” She let her arms drop but stayed just as focused on his face. “Jay saw you leave, he said there’s a recording of it.”
“It worked?” Oddly, Regan seemed happy to hear this. “That’s good, that means he saw…” He stopped, thoughtful and vaguely worried look coming back. “Never mind.”
“If you’re not in Parole,” Shiloh started. Xie’d been quiet until now, letting Annie and Regan focus on each other. It meant xie could watch and listen for as much information as possible. “Does that mean you’re in Tartarus?”
“You’re not, right?” Annie jumped in before Regan could answer the first question. “We didn’t know how bad it was until we got out here,”
“I’m not in Tartarus,” he said, again in his measured tone; his voice caught for a second and he cleared his throat, frill rippling. “I’m with a friend. I’ll have to go there for a little before I come home—but don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, and I’ll be fine.”
“What are you looking for, exactly?” Shiloh asked as Annie opened her mouth, clearly ready to contest Regan’s definition of ‘fine.’ “Maybe we can help.”
“You can’t,” he said, only sounding a little disappointed. “But Celeste might. Talk to her. When you wake up, I mean.”
Shiloh turned back to the stage in time to catch the mysterious girl come to a slowly rotating stop with her dance partner. “Celeste? The missing hacker?”
“Not missing.” Regan didn’t seem worried about the possibility and, not for the first time, Shiloh had to wonder exactly how much more he knew than they did. Oddly, Annie didn’t seem that surprised to hear this either, but Shiloh didn’t pursue it. She knew the situation better than Shiloh, xie reasoned. Instead she was focusing on the girl on the stage, so Shiloh did the same. “Just doing her own thing behind the scenes, like always.”
“Who is she?” Stars twinkled in the eyes of the mystery girl’s mask as she smiled down at the pink-haired girl. They rested their foreheads together even though they’d long since stopped any pretense of a dance. “If we can’t see her face, how do we find her?”
“You don’t. Not if she doesn’t want you to.”
“What if she doesn’t want to give us anything?” Annie asked now.
“Then she doesn’t.” Regan shrugged. “And she has to have a good reason for staying under the radar. Celeste always does.”
“But you know who she is,” Shiloh countered. Some of Annie’s frustration had to be rubbing off on xir. If Regan had told them a single concrete thing, Shiloh didn’t know what. “And where she is. You know everything!”
Regan looked at the ground. “No. I really, really don’t.”
“You know more than any of us,” xie countered. Maybe it was a risk, but xir chance for actual answers beyond glowing lights in the sky could end any minute. If Shiloh never heard one more vague, nebulous hint ever again, it would be too soon.
“Believe me, I don’t like keeping you in the dark.” Regan sounded more insistent, and his frill gave a bigger twitch. He cleared his throat again; it took several deep coughs before he could continue. “I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”
“Regan?” Annie sounded genuinely worried for the first time. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, voice still raw.
“You don’t sound fine.” For the first time, Shiloh noticed the chain and shark tooth around her neck when her hand closed over it. Maybe it hadn’t been there before.
He shook his head like shaking off a question he couldn’t answer. “Listen. There’s nothing I want to do more than tell you everything and—and come home. But I can’t, not yet.”
“Why not? Regan, we need you back!” She was definitely close to tears now. “You don’t know what it’s—”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching out to put both hands on her shoulders. “I’m not doing this because I want to. Tell everyone. Tell them I didn’t mean to hurt them. And I never quit thinking about them or wanting them back. Jay…Rowan…” His shoulders shook, with either a stifled cough or a sob. “Tell them I still—God, I love them so much!”
“Okay.” Annie let go of the shark tooth and reached up to hold his hands. “I promise I’ll tell them. Pretty sure they already know, but—what?” Her weak attempt at a smile faded as she saw Regan’s eyes open wide, filled with what could only be fear. But he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the shark tooth she’d just released.
“Annie,” Regan whispered. “Why do you have Ash’s necklace?”
She didn’t answer. Maybe she couldn’t. She seemed paralyzed, sick.
Very gently, Regan reached out to pick up the huge tooth between his pointed finger and thumb. He stared at it, unblinking; his facial scales started to look grayish, where someone else might have gone pale. Slowly, horror dawned in his eyes and the hand that held the tooth began to shake.
Regan seemed about to say something, but never got the chance.
(Parole…burning…)
Shiloh’s eyes snapped open and xie shot upright, completely disoriented. Regan was gone. So was the bar. The night was still and calm, and Annie and Indra were asleep on either side, though Annie’s sleep looked fitful. But Shiloh had definitely heard something, a voice. Neither of theirs, not Regan’s. But xie did know it and recognition sent a cold shock through xir heart. Xie held absolutely still, hands clutching the sleeping bag, ears straining to hear past xir own breathing and pounding heart. For several long seconds there was nothing. Then—
(Blaze of…flames…)
Xie struggled out of the sleeping bag, half-awake. Xir head hurt, as it often did on just waking up, especially if xie’d slept in the wrong position. It was even harder to find a pain-free one sleeping on the ground. But Shiloh hadn’t woken up from pain. It was the voice. Familiar. So were the words.
(Okay…promise.)
But it wasn’t just one familiar voice; now it sounded like many were all speaking at once. Different pitches, modulating, changing, hundreds of whispers from all different directions. It sounded like whoever was speaking was circling the camp, voices becoming a surround-sound whirlwind.
(Stay out of the light. Open your eyes.)
A chill ran down Shiloh’s spine despite the warm night as a familiar shape emerged from the darkness. Xir heart skipped a beat, then another, as the serpentine figure drew nearer, an inky blot against the stars. The dragon’s black, tunnel-like eyes were just as alien as xie remembered.
“Annie, wake up!” Shiloh said as loudly as xie dared and slowly crouched down, trying not to make any sudden movements. “Don’t move fast, but wake up. Right now, please.”
“What?” Indra mumbled, sitting up behind them. “Where’s the lizard guy?”
“Don’t freak out,” Shiloh whispered as the dragon undulated closer, huge claws moving silently across the ground. “Turn around very slowly. There’s—”
(Listen to my voice.)
“Rega-Ash!” Annie gave a huge jerk awake, seeming to yell out two things at once. But she wasn’t stunned for long. Wriggling out of her sleeping bag with a flashlight she must have slept with, Annie jumped to her feet. As she stomped on the ground, the night lit up. Small, piercing columns shot upward from the proximity ring—the ghost was already inside. In a flash she pulled another object from her sleeping bag neither of them had seen; Shiloh half-expected a gun but the familiar silhouette and her new stance showed it was a baseball bat. “Indra, get down! Shiloh!”
They stumbled backwards in a terrified clump, but the dragon followed. As it moved, it began to change. Its outlines blurred and its shape elongated in some places and shrunk in others, twisting and transforming until it resolved itself into an entirely different shape. Almost as impossible as a dragon—but much more familiar. Annie let out a gasp, said something in a shocked voice but Shiloh couldn’t grasp the words. The world could have ended and xie wouldn’t have noticed, because now nothing else existe
d but the man standing before them. He often had that effect.
“Dad?” Shiloh whispered, trying not to let xir voice shake, but unable to care when it did.
“Icarus.” Garrett Cole’s voice made cities rise and fall. It was full of presence and persuasion, it could move mountains. But all of that was secondary to it simply being his. Shiloh felt like xie could wrap xirself in the warmth of xir father’s voice like a blanket, swim in the reassurance and safety. If he said everything would be all right, Shiloh would believe it. “Turn out the lights.”
The only things more powerful than Garrett Cole’s voice were his elaborate, meticulously layered plans. Parole’s master-strategist hero knew that the real work was done behind the curtain and, if he did his job right, nobody would ever see his hands pulling the strings. They were supposed to be watching the show. So he dressed for the part: master of misdirection and ceremonies. The ghost had recreated his top hat and glittering tuxedo down to the last sequin. But it gleamed in a monochrome, shine dulled like an image captured on film centuries ago. He stood too still, too silent. His smile appeared frozen. This was not Garrett Cole. No ghostly facsimile could hope to compare with the original.
Still, the details it got right were perfect. Looking at the thing Shiloh knew was not xir father, memories surfaced before xie could think. A complex series of notes floated through Shiloh’s spinning head but xie couldn’t even tell if it was Rhapsody in Blue or Bohemian. The important part was standing on tiptoe to watch xir father’s hands—thick fingers, deceptively nimble, nobody expected them to have so much skill the way nobody expected such a voice to come from such an unassuming-looking man—fly across piano keys. Now xie stared at those same hands rendered in greyscale. Shiloh knew every line, every crinkle in the corner of his eyes when he smiled.
But these eyes were not his. Instead of the bright, quick, and warm expressiveness Shiloh remembered so well, xie stared into flat, starless voids.
The wave of nausea brought Shiloh slamming back down to Earth. Reality hurt.
“You’re not really here,” xie whispered. Shiloh’s eyes were filled with tears; xir chest felt like it was caving in. Xir heart wasn’t skipping beats anymore but it might be breaking. “You’re not really him. You’re not my dad.”
The Lifeline Signal Page 13