“Enough,” said Wesley, cutting through the rest of Parker’s words. “Lark, we’ve heard your plan, and unless you have anything you’d like to add . . . ?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. I knew he suspected that I was keeping something back. He’d spent enough time with me over the past few days to know that I didn’t always volunteer important information without being prompted. But if they knew I intended to go in blazing with my stolen magic like the worst-trained Renewable on the planet, they’d never allow it.
I shook my head.
Wesley waited half a breath longer, then nodded. “Then if you and Oren will leave us for a while, we’ll discuss this. Why don’t you go get something to eat?” he added. “Build up your reserves.”
He knew as well as I did that food no longer had any effect on my magic. When I needed power, I stole it. But no one else knew that, so I nodded, and Oren and I hurried out.
We headed for the mess hall and found it mostly empty. There were a few people there finishing off their breakfasts, and a few more cleaning tables, but we were able to secure a corner of the room for ourselves.
I picked at the peeling paint on the table we’d chosen, grimacing when it splintered and jabbed me under my fingernail.
“It’ll work,” Oren said, watching me.
I flicked the bit of paint away. “I know. But the question is, do they know that?”
“They all seem to listen to Wesley.”
That wasn’t necessarily a comfort. “I wish I knew why he’s behind this.”
Oren put his elbows on the table and hunched forward. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
I hesitated. Oren knew what I could do—he’d seen me open the lock on his cage, for one, and he was there when I’d killed the Eagle in the square. But we’d never really talked about it. He didn’t talk much about his inner demons, and he didn’t ask about mine.
“He’s the only one here who knows I’m . . . not really what the rest of them think I am.” Though the other people in the room were out of earshot, habit lowered my voice.
“So?” Oren asked bluntly. “That should make him more willing to give it a shot, not less.”
“What? Why?”
His mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile, his blue eyes holding mine. “If I was headed into the viper’s den, I’d want someone with me who could rip the life out of my enemies.”
I felt my muscles tensing, and I looked away, sick.
“Lark, it’s not—this power of yours. It’s not evil.” He reached forward and took my hand, shocking me into looking back at him. But instead of curling his fingers around mine, he turned it palm-up, toward the ceiling.
“It’s a tool. See your hand, here?” He carefully curled each of my fingers over until my hand was a fist. “It can be a weapon. But only when you want it to be. How you choose to use it is up to you.”
The tingle of magic where his hand cupped mine caused an answering tingle that ran down my spine. I swallowed, keeping my eyes on our hands.
“The magic doesn’t give you a weapon,” he said softly. “It gives you choice.” His hands curled around mine, my fist enclosed within both of his.
“Olivia’s taught you more than fighting, hasn’t she?” What was wrong with me? I couldn’t even hide the bitterness in my own voice. I just hoped he didn’t hear it.
With my eyes on our hands, I felt him react more than anything else. His muscles tensed, and then he released my hands. “She doesn’t know the whole truth, but she knows I’ve done things I regret.”
“Would she still tell you all of this if she knew you were a shadow?” I cursed myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I wish I could just tell Oren what I was afraid of. That I was like him, only worse.
But for once Oren didn’t back away, go silent, close down. He didn’t answer immediately, and when I looked up, he was watching me. Slowly, he leaned across the table and reached out toward my face. His fingers brushed my earlobe where the Molly-shadow had torn it, sending a spark through me. Magic or something else, I couldn’t tell.
“It’s healing,” he said softly.
I had to hunt for my voice. “One of the Renewable kids brought disinfectant for me.”
Oren’s eyes were on my ear, brow lightly furrowed with concentration. “You never gave me a straight answer. Did I do this to you?”
My heart ached. “No. Oren, you didn’t. I promise you.”
He smoothed some of my hair away from my face, his fingers tracing the curve of my ear as he pushed the strands back. “I’ll never know if you’re lying to me,” he murmured, speaking almost as if to himself.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away. His face seemed so sad, the long, fair eyelashes lowered, veiling his blue eyes. My palms, pressed against the tabletop, felt damp, and my words stuck in my throat. When he moved his hand toward my cheek, I couldn’t help but tip my head into his touch.
Just then the mess hall door clanged open. We both jumped, and Oren jerked back with a clatter of the bench he was sitting on. His hand dropped to the table, clenching into a fist, and when I glanced at his face, it was as closed and unreadable as ever.
It was Wesley, come to find us. If he had any comment on the scene he’d interrupted, he didn’t share it. Instead, he glanced at Oren almost dismissively before his gaze landed on me.
“They can’t agree on your plan for CeePo until they know whether your info about the journal is true,” he said. “You’re going to lead an expedition of other Renewables to try to find the surface. If you can do that, then they’ll let you confront Prometheus and finish what your brother started.”
I drew in a shaky breath. I wasn’t sure I could lead anyone, even just myself, to the surface. But I had to trust Basil.
“You’ve got two days including today to get ready,” he said. “Morning of the third day, it’s showtime.”
CHAPTER 17
I expected the two days to drag and leave me itching with impatience. Two days could make all the difference to Tansy or Nix, and part of me chafed at having to wait. But there was so much to do that the time passed in a flurry of preparations. We memorized maps of the known tunnels, studied the latest reports about patrol patterns of Prometheus’s Eagles. We learned the names and functions of all the known machines they used. Oren trained harder than ever with Olivia, while I learned to absorb magic faster, more efficiently, with greater control.
Olivia would stay behind—she wasn’t a Renewable, and if we did find a way to the surface, it’d be dangerous for her in an atmosphere without magic. The outside air would drain away the little magic she did have, and if we got stuck outside, she wouldn’t last more than a day or two without becoming a shadow. Wesley wasn’t coming either. He was considered too valuable to risk losing on what Marco described as a “little girl’s fancy.”
But the worst part was that Oren was staying behind, too. For the others, it was simply because, like Olivia, it was risky for a normal person without magic to spare to be out in the open long. But I knew it was even riskier than that—without the magical atmosphere down here, if my magic ran out up there, Oren, already a shadow inside, would become a monster instantly.
I still saw him as the rest of us trained and planned, usually from across the training ground, where he worked constantly with Olivia. The distance between us felt greater than ever. It seemed one of us was always leaving the other behind.
The plan was for me to set out on my own and meet a handful of Renewables hidden undercover throughout the city. While most of them lived in secret, off the grid, there were a few who were good enough at hiding what they were to live among the citizens. My head ached at the idea of living each day with such deception—hiding my nature from an entire city, every day for the rest of my life, was unthinkable.
Parker would be there, because he had spent the most time studying my brother’s journal. His inclusion went a long way to calming my nerves. His manner was so gentle and reassuring, and he reminded me so strongly of my father.
Unfortunately, Marco would be going as well. I protested this choice—in private—to Wesley, but he countered by saying Marco was one of the strongest Renewables he had. He also told me that while Marco had protested this mission, once it was decided upon, he’d been the first one to volunteer.
And then there was Nina, a woman a few years older than me who’d been living undercover her entire life to avoid the fear and hatred of normal people, even before Prometheus had come to power. Despite being the youngest of the three, she’d be the leader of our little mission, at least, when it came to the combat decisions—if it came to that. I’d be making the calls on where we went.
Marco and Parker, who were “lifers” as Olivia called them and therefore not free to roam the city at large, would leave ahead of me, going the long way around through the alleys. They’d go ahead and find Nina, tell her about the mission, and meet me at the far edge of the city, where there was an entrance to the tunnels not far from where they guessed Basil’s map began.
I’d memorized the plan and my route through the city backward and forward, had copied out Basil’s map and memorized that too. By the time we all headed to bed the night before the mission, it seemed as though we’d planned for every potential eventuality. But instead of feeling calmer, I just felt more nervous. For everything we had planned, there had to be a dozen possibilities we couldn’t foresee.
I lay on my bed, the humidity making me lethargic and restless at the same time. The room smelled musty and damp, reminding me unpleasantly of the mildewed tunnels below my home city. My brother’s paper bird sat on the chest at the foot of the bed, side by side with the one he’d made me before he left. When did he make its twin? Did he carry it with him through the wilderness, as I had, or did he make it when he was living here, researching Prometheus?
I reached for the journal he’d left behind, even though I knew its every page, even the nonsense I didn’t understand. It was full of machines and schematics, inventions to use as weapons and as shields, ways to channel magic through clockwork that I’d never even dreamed of. But what it didn’t have was a reason why my brother had chosen this battle.
He’d come here looking for answers about what he was and how to cure what our city had done to him. That much Dorian had told me in the Iron Wood. But when he got here to find that the city had fallen apart, he must have lost hope that anyone here would know enough to help him. And then a man named Prometheus had taken over and made Renewables all but criminals in this city—and people like me and my brother could never hope to live normal lives here. At least not for long.
So why did he stay? Why not pack up and leave, find another city, another chance at survival?
I left the journal on my bed and headed over to the wall my room shared with Oren’s. I pressed my ear to the metal, but I could hear nothing except a distant vibration caused by some machine. I ducked out into the corridor and paused by Oren’s door, unable to stop myself from thinking of his face as he looked at my healing ear, as he touched my hair. But his room was dark and quiet, and if he was asleep I didn’t want to wake him. At least one of us could get some rest.
I knew I should go back into my room and sleep. But instead I put my back to Oren’s door and slid down to the ground with a bump. I missed the journey. I missed making a new camp each night and starting fresh the next day. No plans except surviving, no pressure. I’d been terrified, exhausted, half-starving—but it was just Oren and me, and Nix, and no one counting on us but ourselves.
I ducked my head, letting my hands dangle between my knees. Morning was coming all too soon.
• • •
The sounds of people stirring roused me, and I sat up, stifling a groan at my stiff neck. I was still sitting outside Oren’s room, but I must have drifted off. Dragging myself to my feet, I slipped back into my own room and changed.
They’d found new clothes for me—well, not new, but new to me. Black pants of a thin canvaslike material, strong and durable but flexible. A light top made of breathable fabric, good for the humidity. A jacket made of some kind of leather—my skin crawled a little as I put it on, the idea of wearing animal skins almost as abhorrent as the idea of eating meat. But Olivia had assured me that it’d help protect me if the route we were following was unstable, if there were environmental dangers along the way. They all fit perfectly—someone must have tailored them for me.
After days of wearing ill-fitting, borrowed clothing, it was a relief to have something that was just right. I couldn’t remember ever having clothes that fit me so well. Even in my home city, everything I wore was a hand-me-down from some other child who came before me.
The idea was to go during the day, Lethe-time, when the city’s machinery siphoned power away from the Star above. That way, if we made it to the surface, we’d get there during their nighttime. At first I protested, remembering the Mollyshadow and the rest of her family, but Wesley assured me that only dusk and dawn were dangerous Above, that the shadows left the city for most of the night to roam the countryside, looking for prey. We’d be safer then than we would be if we emerged in broad daylight, easily seen by the people living Above or—even worse—by patrolling Eagles.
I ate a quiet breakfast on my own, avoiding the whispers and furtive looks from the other people gathered for their morning meal. Officially my mission to find a route out of Lethe was secret, but the people here were no better than the kids I went to school with. There were rumors flying everywhere, and they all knew it had something to do with me.
I expected the others to be waiting there, and I braced myself for a tense send-off I didn’t want. This mission could mean everything for these people living on the fringes of the city—it could mean a way out. Freedom. The pressure was monumental, and I knew that seeing all those expectant faces would only make it worse.
When I got to the door, though, there was only Wesley. No sign of Marco or Parker or Olivia—and no sign either of Oren. I tried to ignore the unexpected stab of disappointment at that. Popular opinion among those in on the plan was that I was not coming back from this. I was relieved not to have to deal with anyone else, but Oren hadn’t even come to say goodbye.
Wesley smiled at me as I approached, but it was a grim sort of smile. “Ready, Lark?”
I nodded, searching for my voice. The last thing I wanted was to sound as frightened as I was. “Ready,” I replied firmly.
“I thought you might prefer to slip out quietly,” Wesley said drily. “Everyone else thinks you’re leaving in an hour.”
That made me smile. Wesley had gotten to know me pretty well through our training sessions. Because it was a relief, especially now that I knew the reason Oren wasn’t there. I drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for everything,” I said awkwardly.
Wesley waved a hand. “No need for that. We’ll be the ones thanking you if you can get this done.”
“If I can find a way to the surface, do you think the Renewables will all leave? What will happen then to the rebels without magic, like Olivia?” Like Oren.
Wesley shifted his weight from foot to foot, turning his gaze on the door leading out into the city. “I can’t speak for anyone else,” he said finally, resting his hand on the crude but effective mechanism locking the door from the inside. “I know what my choice would be, though.”
I glanced from his hand to his face, which showed a strange kind of pride as he gazed at the place the rebels had built. The place my brother had built.
“What if I hurt someone?” The words came out in a rush, easier to say here in the quiet and the gloom. “What if I kill someone again?”
Wesley let his hand fall and turned to face me. “Then you kill someone,” he said shortly. “But you’re strong. And stronger now than you were when you first came here. You know how much power a person needs to keep breathing, to keep his heart beating. It’s in you to kill, but it’s also in you to preserve life.”
I swallowed. I didn’t feel any different, and I certainly didn’t feel any stronger. Al
l that had changed was that I’d gained an intimate understanding of just how I killed that man. Then it had been instinctive. Now I knew how it worked.
Wesley reached for my hand. I tried to jerk it back as I felt the familiar hunger rise at his touch, felt the warm tingle of power trying to flow from him to me—but he held on, his grip tight. “What I’ve taught you won’t prevent you from killing anyone, Lark. All I’ve done is teach you enough that it becomes a choice. What you choose is up to you.”
His eyes met mine for a long moment as I struggled against the urge to siphon away some of his magic.
Surely a little wouldn’t hurt him. Just a tiny bit, he wouldn’t even notice . . .
“You can go ahead, if you want.” Wesley’s voice was low, and abruptly I realized that avoiding a scene might not have been his only reason for making his farewell in private. “I trust you to stop before you hurt me.”
I gazed at him, my vision blurring as I fought the hunger. It made sense to refill my reservoir of magic before I left, in case I needed it on the journey. It made sense to try it here, now, when there was help close at hand if something went wrong. It was the logical thing to do.
But I could feel the hunger, too dark and too deep—and this time when I yanked my hand away, Wesley let me go. His expression flickered briefly, and though I might have imagined it, he looked almost disappointed. I’d failed his test.
“No,” I gasped, rubbing my palm against my shirt as if trying to scrub away the intensity of the hunger. “I can’t, not yet.”
Wesley waited, scanning my features, but ultimately nodded. He turned for the door again, this time to send a pulse of magic through the mechanism to set it clanking and whirring, unbarring the door.
“Good luck, then, Lark,” said Wesley, running the hand that had been holding mine over his balding scalp. I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like for him, on the other end of my hungry power. I imagined it was like standing on the edge of some dark, shadowy abyss.
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