by R. D. Brady
But it wasn’t Lyla who answered him. His mother appeared, Kayla by her side. The burns that had slowly eaten up both of them before they turned to ash were nowhere to be seen. His mother wore a flowing yellow dress. Kayla’s was pink, a bright white ribbon holding back her curls. They smiled at him.
It’s all right, Miles. We’re here.
He reached out a hand for them. The pain receded. His body stilled, floating toward the top of the tank. He touched his mother’s hand, and everything went black.
26
It was a subdued group that made their way back through the gates at the Gatsby. Riley came over and took Lyla’s horse when she dismounted without a word. She couldn’t tell if he was mad at her, mad at the situation, or mad at himself. She figured it was some sort of combination of all three.
Emma hustled over to her. “Oh, Lyla.” She hugged her tight, smelling of cinnamon. Normally the scent automatically made Lyla feel safe. It was the scent of comfort and friends.
But today, it left her feeling cold. She could barely work up the energy to hug Emma back, because the truth of the situation had hit her somewhere on the long trip back: Miles was gone. They’d never get to him now.
Emma pulled back, her gaze roaming over Lyla’s face, her brow furrowed with concern. “Is there anything I can do?”
Lyla shook her head, not ready to speak yet. If she did, she was afraid she would start screaming and never stop. Without a word to anyone else, she headed into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. She dropped her staff and sword by the door, kicking the door shut behind her. On autopilot, she stumbled to the bed.
She crawled into it and pulled the blankets over her head. She knew she should go speak with her people. She should raise everyone’s spirits. But for the first time in her life, she just didn’t have it in her.
27
Pain radiated from Miles’s chest. He could not remember feeling such pain before. It was as if someone was standing on his chest. He took a breath and winced at the ache. His throat felt raw. His lungs felt as if they had been scraped clean. Breathing only made the pain worse, but to not breathe …
He frowned. To not breathe. A memory stirred. His mother, his sister. He’d seen them. He’d touched them.
I drowned.
His eyes flew open. He scrambled to his feet. His back slammed into the glass walls of the cylinder. His painful breathing came in pants. He was still in the cylinder. He was soaked through, his clothes clinging to him.
They drowned me, he thought in disbelief, glaring up at the observation window. It was no longer empty. The Naku leader sat perched at its edge, looking down at him.
The door to the training room slid open, and an Unwelcome entered. Miles blinked, his head still fuzzy as the Unwelcome approached the glass. He squinted, trying to make out the numbers on the Unwelcome’s uniform: 74-H.
Anixquold.
She moved to the edge of the cylinder. She tilted her head at Miles, studying him before she looked up to the observation window. Miles followed her gaze. Xantar made no move, but Miles felt the familiar flutter against his brain. He forced the intrusion out.
Anixquold reached down to the long tube connected to the cylinder. A release valve was on the top of the hose. She turned it. Water began to seep through the vent.
Miles stared at it in disbelief. Again? He wanted to yell it, but his throat was so sore he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak beyond a squeak. He stood against the cylinder and slammed his fist into it. Anixquold looked at him.
He shook his head. “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice a rasp.
In response, Anixquold reached down and turned the valve more. The volume of water increased. Fear lanced through Miles.
No. I cannot do this again.
He stared at Anixquold and knew she would not stop the flow of water. She would let him drown again. And this time, with his lungs already damaged, they might not be able to revive him.
If they even bothered to try. I am going to die. She’s going to make sure of it.
The familiar tingle ran over his skin. Relief flowed through him, and he smiled. No. You are not doing this to me again.
Anixquold tilted her head again at Miles’s smile.
Miles crashed his fist from his fully formed arm into the glass. It spider webbed. Anixquold reared back. Miles slammed his fists into the glass over and over again until spiderwebs covered it.
He moved to the far side of the cylinder and with a yell threw his whole body at the cylinder wall. In an explosion of glass, he burst through, landing on the ground in a crouch as water poured out after him.
Anixquold, who’d tripped over the hose trying to get out of his way, was getting to her feet. He gripped her by the front of her shirt.
“Why are you doing this?” he yelled.
She didn’t answer, just threw an uppercut toward Miles’s jaw. He slipped the punch, grabbing her arm and putting her in an arm bar, forcing her to the ground. He held her down knowing that with only a little pressure he could break her elbow or dislocate her shoulder. Anger roared through him. He wanted her to hurt the way he hurt. The way she was helping them hurt him.
Arthur’s face swam across his mind. They’re slaves.
He felt the pressure against his brain. The leader was trying to worm its way in.
Kill. The word drifted across his mind.
Miles slammed down all his emotions, focused on his breathing. “I will not become your plaything,” he muttered. He pushed against Anixquold’s arm and then released her, stepping out of range.
Anixquold lay still for a moment before climbing to her feet. She said nothing to Miles, but he could feel her gaze on him. Miles kept his focus on her helmet, trying to convey without words the truth: I am not your enemy.
The doors to the training room opened. 41-G and 17-H strode in, their romags in their arms.
“Step back,” 41-G ordered.
Miles retreated one step, his hands in the air. He did not remove his gaze from Anixquold. “You are better than this.”
Anixquold jolted, her helmet darting to the observation window.
“You are to follow us,” 41-G ordered, prodding Miles with the tip of his romag.
Miles took one last look at Anixquold before following 17-H out the door. 41-G kept behind him, but Anixquold stayed in the training room. Miles took a deep breath as he entered the hall. His lungs felt fine, normal. The pain was gone.
But he knew that was temporary. So far, the testing had been relatively painless. But he had a feeling today had been only a small taste of the pain to come.
28
Lyla slept for hours. Arthur had been in to check on her. Emma and Addie had stopped by, trying to get her to eat something. But she just mumbled something about needing a little more sleep and tuned all of them out. They had all left quietly.
Now there was a steady knock on the door. It worked its way into Lyla’s sleep, pulling her out. She groaned. “Go away.”
The knocking only got louder.
She glared at the door before shoving the blankets aside, her feet getting caught in the sheet underneath. The knocker never relented. With a curse, she freed her legs and stormed over to the door and yanked it open. “I don’t wan— Frank?”
Frank smiled in response. “Hey, kiddo.”
Lyla was happy to see a little more color in his cheeks than when she’d last seen him. He’d taken ill after arriving at New Attlewood. Unlike other illnesses that he’d been able to shake off relatively easy, this one had stayed with him. He’d lost weight and had been bedridden for weeks. He hadn’t been able to make the trip out to the Gatsby with everyone else due to his poor health. But from the look of him now, he was well on his way to recovery.
Frank stepped past her and then opened his arms. “What, no hug?”
Lyla slipped into his arms and hugged him tight. She’d known Frank since she was a kid. He’d been her father’s best friend. And since her father’s death, he’d become a
pseudo-father to her. “It’s good to see you.”
And she meant it. When she’d been out with the Cursed searching for answers, she’d been surprised at how hard it was not to have her friends and family around her. She’d thought she was tougher than that, thought that if she had to, she could get along on her own. But apparently just like every other human, she needed the human contact of those she cared about.
And Miles is up there, surrounded by people he doesn’t know. What is he feeling right now? As soon as the thoughts floated through her mind, the tears that she’d been holding back flowed down her cheeks.
Frank tightened his grip on her, resting his chin on top of her head. “I heard. Now you go on and cry. I won’t tell anyone.”
And Lyla did. She cried for Miles being alone up on the ship. She cried for Riley, who didn’t seem to know what to do with himself without Miles around. She cried for Petra, who seemed to be figuring out just how important Miles was to her. She cried for Maisy, who was trying to act tough even though her heart was breaking inside at Miles’s absence. She cried for Arthur, who had been forced into a position where he had to fight against his own people to help the people he’d now come to think of his family. She cried for all of them and what the Naku had put them through.
When her tears were exhausted, she stepped back from Frank, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Frank.”
He led her over to the two chairs that had been positioned in front of the fireplace. Placing her in one, he took the other. “I’m not surprised by that. You’ve been running on emotions ever since the breeding facility. Emotions are good—they can propel you into action—but they can also block you from logic. I think right now, your emotions, your fear for Miles, are getting in the way of you seeing what other options there are.”
Lyla shook her head. “There are no other options. We need to get on that ship, and we just blew our only chance of doing that. The only other way to do it is a full frontal assault. And we don’t have the ability or the technology for that.”
Frank sat back, studying her. “You know, the one good thing about being sick is it gives you plenty of time to think. And I’ve been thinking about you. Actually, you and Muriel. You two were thick as thieves when you were younger. I don’t think I ever saw one of you without the other.
Memories stirred in the back of Lyla’s mind. “Until I joined the Phoenixes, we always were.”
Frank nodded. “I had no inkling there was anything different about you two. Now, we know the Cursed have abilities, but there’s a set age range to those abilities. You and Muriel don’t fit in that group. So I’ve been trying to figure out what set you two apart. What makes you two different?”
Lyla leaned her head back, still tired. “I mean, I’m curious about that as well. But I don’t see how that helps us get Miles back.”
“I’m getting there. Now, trying to figure out how you two ended up with abilities made me wonder if there was something out there that could provide abilities.”
Lyla stared at him. “What?”
“Something had to happen to you and Muriel that made you different. The same thing that happened to the Cursed. With the Cursed, we think it was the ash that covered the world during the times that their mothers were pregnant with them. But there was no ash when your mother was pregnant with you and Muriel. So how did you two end up with the same abilities?”
“I have no idea. And right now I don’t really care. All I care about is getting Miles back.”
“See? That’s where I think your emotions are getting in the way. If something gave you abilities, and if we could find that something, it seems possible that it might be able to give other people those abilities. And if you had an army with those abilities, then getting Miles back might be a little bit easier.”
Lyla tried to see his logic. He was right. That would be incredible. But she shook her head before she let herself get too caught up in the world of what-ifs. “I mean, I suppose that’s true. But we have no way of knowing where my abilities came from. My parents might know, but they never said anything to me.”
Frank’s gaze snapped to her face. “Actually, I don’t think that’s true. Your father used to always say you and Muriel were special.”
Lyla rolled her eyes. “Parents say that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Barid wasn’t someone given to false praise. He wouldn’t try and build your ego just for the sake of it. Have you ever told Maisy she’s special?”
“I tell her she’s special all the time.”
“You tell her she’s special to you. That’s different.” Frank frowned. “Do you remember the story your dad used to tell you about how you became special?”
The whisper of a memory fluttered in the back of her brain. She frowned, trying to tease it out. “He said … He said the man in the moon made us special.”
Memories came flooding back. The comfort of her father’s arms, the smile that always seem to warm her heart. But most critically, the story he used to tell them. “I’d forgotten about that. After Mom died, he never told that story again.”
“Your mom’s death was really rough on him. He tried to keep it from you girls, but he was heartbroken.”
Now as an adult looking back on it, she could see the signs of heartbreak. The times she would catch him staring off into space, looking at nothing. He’d mask it with a smile as soon as she called his name. At the time she’d thought nothing of it. But now she could see it for what it was: grief.
“He said more than that about our abilities. It wasn’t just a man in the moon. Dad said the man was his friend. And he had a name. What was it?” She frowned, trying to remember the words. “It was something unusual.”
“Ta’Chiko.”
Lyla gasped. “That was it. Ta’Chiko. And … didn’t Dad say that he lived with them? With him and Mom?”
Frank nodded. “Ta’Chiko lived with them for a year.”
“Who was he? Did you meet him?”
Frank shook his head. “No. I never met him. I spent most of that year a good distance from your father’s cottage. I did go one day, but I never saw the man. Your father mentioned him but never offered to introduce us. I didn’t push it. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time.”
“But why would you think he had anything to do with our abilities?”
“There was one night after your mother had passed. You and Muriel were staying with my family. Your father and I stayed up late one night, sitting out back. We found a whiskey bottle on one of our scavenges, and the two of us stayed up late finishing it off.” Frank smiled. “Your father wasn’t much of a drinker.”
Lyla smiled. She’d seen her father drink maybe twice in her life. He never did seem to care for the stuff.
“Anyway, your father talked about Ta’Chiko. He said he’d done something to you and Muriel to keep you safe. He really seemed to believe that whatever Ta’Chiko had done would protect you. But when I questioned him further, he clammed up. He didn’t want to talk about him. He mumbled something about me forgetting he’d said anything.”
“Do you really think he’s the reason for Muriel and my abilities?”
Frank shrugged. “It’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose.”
“But even if that’s true, I don’t know how that helps. I mean, Ta’Chiko’s been dead longer than my parents.”
“That’s true. But I do know where he’s buried.”
“What?”
“Your father buried him near your old cottage. He abandoned it after your mother passed. He couldn’t be there anymore. But the grave should still be there.”
“You’re sure he’s not buried near my mom?” She distinctly remembered the long trip to bury her mom with her parents. Years later, she and Muriel had laid their father to rest next to her.
Frank shook his head. “No. Ta’Chiko was a secret. He wouldn’t have risked moving him too far. I remember seeing some upturned ground near those three trees. Do y
ou remember them?”
Lyla pictured the tall, stately oaks.
“I think they buried him there. It was a smaller patch than what you’d need for an adult, so I didn’t think much of it. But now I’m wondering if Ta’Chiko really was the man in the moon. What if Ta’Chiko was an alien? What if he’s the one who gave you those abilities?”
Lyla gaped at Frank. What had gotten into him? He was a man of facts and logic. Now he was suggesting her dad’s old friend was literally the man in the moon. “That’s a lot of what-ifs.”
“Yes, it is.”
Lyla studied Frank. He wasn’t a man who went off on whimsical trips down memory lane or pushed for fanciful possibilities. He must really think this Ta’Chiko was important. Lyla couldn’t see it.
Frank must have sensed her indecision. “Look, you’re at a crossroads. You don’t know what your next step is. With that veerfinah you guys have, you could get to your old cottage in maybe an hour.”
“You want me to go now?”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “What? You need another nap, princess?”
Lyla glared at him.
He grinned in response. “That’s more like it. Now look, it might give you some answers. And if you figure out what caused your abilities, maybe you could figure out what could create others. I don’t know if it’ll help get Miles back, but right now, what else do you have? And worst-case scenario, it will help you clear your head.”
He was right. It might not offer any answers. It might not provide a way to get Miles back. But the idea of leaving the Gatsby, of going back to the cottage that she’d grown up in, right now that was too appealing to resist.
She nodded. “I’ll check it out.”
29
The water reached his chin. Miles raised his head, sucking in as much air as he could manage, but then the water was over his head. He sunk down into the cylinder. Lyla stood on the other side of the cylinder, banging on the glass, tears raining down her cheeks before she disappeared in a flash of ash. Miles’s mouth burst open in a scream and water raced down his throat.