by Claudia Gray
Theo and I sit side by side, wordless, listening to metal thud against stone. Our fall never slows. Just as I feel fear rising to the point of panic, the clamp finds some spur or jutting stone and locks on. We jerk to a stop, then swing there, suspended. For the moment, we’re safe—but as we both know, the clamp may only have hooked onto something very fragile. Any moment, the weight of the sub could break it and send us hurtling down again, to our deaths.
“Okay,” Theo says, taking a deep breath. He flips the comm switch back to on. “Salacia? Salacia, this is—what, Submersible One? It’s Theo and Marguerite. Over.”
No response, not even static: We’re too deep for our communications system to work.
He runs one hand through his hair. “So, we have to stay calm and figure out—”
I slam Theo’s head into the console, as hard as I can.
In the split second he’s stunned, I claw at his throat, forcing him down the way he forced me. “We’re not partners.” The words grind out through my gritted teeth. “We never will be. Tell Conley that.”
Theo’s stronger than I am—he throws me off, and I stagger backward. Before he can follow, though, I get myself on the other side of the divide and hit the button that separates the sub compartments. The watertight doors slam shut, separating me from Theo—him in the front with the now useless control panel, and me in the back with the diving gear.
Fortunately the lock is clearly labeled. I make sure it’s activated, keeping us apart.
“Marguerite?” Theo’s face appears in the door’s thin sliver of superthick glass. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting out of here.”
Because one of the other very clearly labeled things in the back is the ESCAPE POD.
The small, circular passageway is something I can slide through easily; what waits on the other side is a tiny dark sphere that will require me to curl into a ball. What about air? What about getting back to the surface? I’d assume something like this is pretty much automated—but I don’t like making assumptions almost a thousand feet underwater. Still, my only alternative is hanging around here. Theo’s going to figure out how to get through that lock sooner or later. Probably sooner. So I have to go.
“You can’t make it up on your own from this depth,” Theo calls through the thick glass. “Don’t kill yourself trying to get away from me, all right? I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m getting out of here and going home,” I repeat, stepping closer to the door where he stands. “And I’m taking my dad with me.”
Then I slam my hand against the glass and watch Theo’s eyes widen as he sees what I’ve been holding in my palm—his Firebird.
The one I snatched from his neck during our fight. The one he was counting on to get him out of this—and the one that’s going to bring my father back where he belongs.
“Come on. Don’t do this.” Theo’s face is white. Good.
“You thought this dimension was good enough to strand Dad in,” I say as I go to the escape pod’s opening. “Hope you like being stranded here too.”
“Marguerite!”
Then I slide into the pod, and Theo’s words are muffled so that I can’t exactly hear him any longer.
Right now, I’m in a lot more danger than he is. This submarine seems to be intact; even if it can’t move right now, it’s watertight and pressurized. Sure, Theo is stuck, but a crew from the Salacia will be down as soon as possible. As angry as Dad’s going to be when he realizes the truth about Theo, he’d never leave anyone to die.
Me? I’m launching myself into the hostile world beyond the sub—into the cold, crushing dark.
But if I stay here, eventually Theo’s going to get through that door. He’ll get the Firebird back from me, and then Dad and I will once again be at the mercy of Wyatt Conley’s schemes.
That’s not going to happen.
Shaking, I hit the yellow panel that says Launch Prep.
Metal discs pinwheel out from the sides of the door to seal me in completely. There’s a distant pounding, probably Theo throwing himself against the doors in a last, desperate bid to get my attention, but I refuse to look.
No expansive large windows here—just a slim transparent sliver that lets me see just how forbidding it is outside. Nothing is near us, nothing at all except the depth of the crevasse. But this is my only chance. I suck in a deep breath, put my hand to the red panel that says Final Launch—and hit it.
Instantly metal clamps click and thud, and then the pod falls into the ocean.
At first I’m terrified. I’m falling! I’m going to fall all the way down—but then some sort of motor kicks in and propels me upward. Then it feels like liberation. As unbelievably dark and cramped as it is in here, I’m free.
Down this far, it’s too dark to see the surface of the water. Maybe I could on a brighter day, but the storm overhead is blocking what little light might penetrate this deep. The only illumination comes from the glow-in-the-dark paint within the pod . . . but that’s not much, just a few lines within the panels. Probably I was supposed to bring some kind of flashlight in here with me. I’ll have to remember that next time, I think, but it’s not funny.
Surely there’s some sort of heat, or insulating safety blankets I haven’t found. All I know is this chill can’t be safe. I’m surrounded by metal, and by water that’s only a few degrees above freezing, which means it’s already so cold in here I’m shaking. Every moment I get clumsier as my limbs start to go numb.
Another factor I hadn’t counted on was my exhaustion. Theo and I just took turns beating the crap out of each other—and that’s after a morning that began with me climbing weather stations in storm-force gales. It’s important to stay awake, to figure out how to contact help once I get to the surface, but the cold and the weariness are dragging me down. Adrenaline can only take me so far, but I’m determined that it’s going to take me far enough.
You can make it, I think, but it sounds desperate and unrealistic, even to me. I bet it’s safe. You’ll be to the surface soon; it can’t be much farther.
Oh, God, how much farther is it? How far?
And then, brilliant as a sunrise, light breaks underwater, streaming through the one slim window I have to the ocean beyond.
The spotlights bathe me in their glow, so bright I have to turn my head away and squint. As they come closer, the form behind them takes shape—it’s a sub, but not one of the ones from Salacia.
Which means there’s only one person it could be.
Slowly my murky view of the world above takes the shape of the sub’s white belly as it lowers itself over the escape pod; it’s like looking up into the sky. A crescent-shaped opening waxes above me like a moon the color of night. The pod bobs up through that opening, into the diving bay of the sub. The door shuts again, and water begins to be pumped out, the levels falling moment by moment as the pod settles onto the diving bay’s floor.
I feel so heavy. So tired. But I manage to stay awake, even to stay mostly calm, despite the dizziness and nausea I recognize as potential signs of pressure sickness.
Water ebbs from the escape pod; only trickles remain on the floor. From where I sit curled within the pod, I watch the pressure indicator on the wall glow red—still red—and then green.
I hit the green panel that says Door Release; the metal spirals open again, and I’m able to push open the pod’s door. I flop onto the wet metal mesh of the floor like a hooked fish, weak and shaking. As I gulp in a deep breath, I hear the doors near me slide open. I turn to see Paul running toward me, something silvery in his hands.
“Marguerite,” he whispers as he fastens a breathing mask over my nose and mouth. “You’re safe, all right? You’re safe. Just breathe in and out, as deeply as you can.” All I can do is nod, and breathe.
Within two inhalations, I feel slightly better. Which is to say—I feel like crap, but no longer like I might be on the verge of passing out. “What is this stuff?”
&nbs
p; “Don’t talk,” Paul says as he unfolds a shiny insulating blanket and covers me with it, tucking it around my shoulders, my legs. “You’re breathing a special gas designed to counteract pressure sickness. Very advanced. Invented by the brilliant oceanographer Dr. Sophia Kovalenka.”
Of course Mom turned out to be as much of a genius in oceanography as she was in physics. Of course. I can’t help smiling beneath the mask.
Paul sits on the wet floor by me, close enough to lift my head so that it rests against his knee. His hands warm me, rubbing my cold arms and legs, even as he bends and kisses my forehead.
“I wasn’t sure it was you,” he murmurs. “It could have been Theo in the pod—and I thought, if he left her down there, if he hurt her, stranded her—”
“No. He’s the one who’s stranded.” I look up at him as best I can with the silver mask over my face. “I took Theo’s Firebird. That means Dad can go home.”
“My God.” Then Paul bends over me, cradles me in his arms, as if he’s sheltering me from the whole world. I close my eyes, and despite everything, I think I’ve never felt so safe.
We rise through the water until it once again turns blue around us, and the breathing mask is no longer necessary. Paul only stops looking after me to dock his sub—one of the bigger, long-distance models that only travel with the largest science vessels.
“We get to go home,” I whisper. Moments ago I was exhausted and terrified; now I’m warm and safe in Paul’s arms. I could almost fall asleep right here in his lap, pillowing my head against his strong chest. His muscles flex as he works the directional controls; I love that he’s piloting the sub without letting go of me. “We won.”
“The battle. Not the war.”
“I know Triad will come after me again. I realize that. And they think I’m theirs to manipulate.” I’m vulnerable to them; as long as there are people in the world I love, that will be true. But vulnerable isn’t the same as helpless. “They’re going to learn better.”
Paul smiles. “When they went after you—Triad didn’t know what they were getting into.”
He turns his attention back to the controls as we complete docking. The clamps settle around his sub with a solid, metallic clang, and I hear the whirring sound of the station’s airlock coupling with ours. Paul puts one hand under my knees and stands with me in his arms, carrying me to the portal.
When the door swooshes open, Josie is standing on the other side to check in the latest refugees. She startles as she sees me. “Marguerite?”
“We wrecked,” I say. “Theo’s still out there. I swam up the first couple hundred feet; Paul picked me up from there.”
“Holy crap. You crashed the submersible?” Josie puts her hands on her hips. “And exactly how many guys are showing up to visit you today?”
“I think she’s a little out of it,” Paul says to Josie, as he gently settles me back on my feet. “At any rate, she could use something warm to drink and a lot of rest. And I know Marguerite wants to see her father.”
I say, “I can hear you, you know.” But Paul might not be wrong about my being out of it. I’m overwhelmed physically, emotionally, you name it. Right now I only want to curl back into Paul’s arms.
I take Josie’s hand and let her help me over the step. She guides me to one of the benches as she says, “Aren’t you coming?”
“No,” Paul replies.
“Paul?” I look back at him. He stands there in his own sub, his T-shirt and slacks striped with water, the Firebird hanging around his neck. He looks at me as if he’s drinking me in, as if he’s trying to memorize me. “What are you doing?”
“The storm’s blowing in hard. Theo’s in a broken submersible hanging over the edge of the trench. I can’t leave him out there.”
Josie turns on me. “Wait, what? You wrecked in the trench?”
I ignore this. “If it’s dangerous for him, it’s dangerous for you. And he’s the one who started it.”
“The Theo who spied on us started it,” Paul agrees. “But the Theo from this dimension never hurt us. He doesn’t deserve to die for someone else’s sins. And . . . he’s Theo.”
He’s right—so right it shames me. “I shouldn’t have stranded him down there.”
“You stranded that guy? On purpose?” By now Josie is beside herself.
Paul takes one step toward me, his gray eyes intense. “You did what you had to do, to save your father and yourself. Don’t blame yourself for a situation someone else put you in. But I have to rescue Theo if I can.”
“You just had to ditch me one more time on this trip, huh?”
“Marguerite—”
But I can’t even deal any longer. “Go, and come back in one piece, or I swear to God I will kick your ass.”
Paul touches my face—his thumb against my still-wet lips, like a kiss—then steps back into his sub. His hand thumps a panel on the wall, and the doors slide shut again.
When I turn to Josie, she’s staring at me like I grew a second head. Very quietly she says, “Do I even want to know what’s going on?”
“No.”
She exhales, puffing out her cheeks in frustration—but instantly she’s back to business. “We need the airlock. Let’s go.”
Within minutes, I’m standing at one of the lower windows, watching Paul’s white sub vanish into the murky waters. I press my palm against the cold glass.
“Marguerite?” I turn my head to see Dad walking toward me, concern etched into every line of his face. “Josie’s in a state. She’s told me what happened, or what she thinks happened, but the story doesn’t make a lot of sense. Are you all right?”
I can’t tell whether he remembers himself right now or not. It doesn’t matter.
“I’m all right.” I fish out the other Firebird and put it in his hand. “We’re going home.”
27
I OPEN MY EYES.
This time, there’s no sensation of force, no moment of disorientation. Instead it’s almost as if I nodded off for a moment, then gently woke. Slowly, I look around. Night has fallen here, but only just—the western edge of the sky is still a paler blue, tinted faintly pink at the horizon. I’m sitting on the steps of our deck, wearing my lace dress with my father’s cardigan over it, both hands clasping the Firebird around my neck. In other words, I’m in the exact same position I was when I left a month ago.
“I’m home,” I whisper. “I’m home.”
Quickly I scramble up the back steps and to the sliding glass doors. As usual, Mom hasn’t locked them, so I run inside. The sight of my own house fills me with almost delirious happiness: Piles of paper! Physics equations on the walls! Mom’s potted plants! Even the rainbow table—
—and, sitting on the sofa, Mom.
She gasps, “Marguerite!”
“Mom!” I run to her, but she meets me halfway. Her arms go around me so tightly that I realize anew how badly I must have scared her these past few weeks. “I’m so sorry, Mom, but I made it. We made it.”
“You’re safe? You’re well?” Tears spill down my mother’s face as she brushes my hair back from my face. “But you didn’t hurt Paul, did you? We decoded his note hours after we got yours—”
“Oh, my God, you’re back!” Josie comes barreling out of the kitchen to tackle me onto the sofa. “I’m going to kill you for scaring us like that. But first I have to tell you I love you, you crazy little brat.”
“I love you, too,” I say as I hug her close. “But there’s so much we have to talk about.”
“Triad,” Mom says, and her smile dims, but only slightly. “We know. That doesn’t matter now, sweetheart, as long as you’re home and safe.”
“You know? But how . . .” My voice trails off as a third person steps out of the hallway.
Theo.
He tries to grin at me, but it doesn’t quite work. “Welcome back.”
At first all I can feel is panic. He followed me here, somehow he got out of the sub and followed me here—and then I realize what
this actually means. The guy standing here in his Mumford & Sons shirt and cargo pants is my Theo, the one Triad took over months ago so that their spy could act in his place. This Theo would never have done any of this to me or to anybody in my family.
I know that. I believe it. And yet it’s hard to make my heart accept it.
“You know the truth, then. I can see it in your face.” Theo grimaces. “You never used to be scared of me.”
Quickly I say, “I’m not scared. It’s just—it’s a lot to take in. And, yeah. I know.”
“Did he hurt you?” Theo’s voice breaks. “If that son of a bitch hurt you—”
“No,” I say, which almost isn’t a lie.
“And Paul? Is Paul okay?” At that moment, when I see that Theo’s as frightened for Paul as he was for me, I remember the love between them, and that even now, a dimension away, Paul is risking his life to save a Theo he doesn’t even know—and a Theo who tried to kill him.
“Paul’s all right. He’ll come back soon,” I say. Josie breathes out a sigh of relief, and I can see the tension in Theo’s shoulders relax the tiniest amount.
Mom interjects, “Theo came to us the moment Triad’s spy left. He told us everything. But by then it was too late—you were gone, and we knew Triad could get to you and we couldn’t, so there was nothing we could do or even say without endangering you. We’ve been working on our own Firebirds, hoping to follow you, but that work doesn’t go quickly. The last month has been hell.” She sounds more than four weeks older as she says it. “But now you’re here. You’ve come home.”
I wrest myself from Josie’s embrace, my smile returning to my face. “And now we have to go. All of us, right this second.”
“Go where?” Mom asks, frowning.
She doesn’t understand. None of them do. None of them know yet, the best news of all.
“To the university.” I take my mother’s hands to ease the shock, and look into all of their faces in turn before saying, “We have to pick up Dad.”
Despite everything that’s happened to me in the past couple of hours, I’m the only one calm enough to drive. So I steer Josie’s silver Volkswagen through the hilly streets. In the back seat, Mom and Josie are alternating between sobs of joy and horrible moments of doubt. They’re still overwhelmed, still afraid to believe.