“Cypress, don’t … ”
Her eyes grow soft. “I never told you this, and I’ll deny it if you ever repeat it, but I really admire you, Lucian. The way you love your little brother … the way you’ll do anything to be with him again, unlike my brother. Maybe that’s why a part of me still hates you.”
“Maybe you’re wrong about your brother. Don’t you think it’s possible that something could have prevented him from coming after you, something beyond his control?” Thoughts of our experience with the Fleshers turn my blood cold. I block them out as best I can. “I mean, you have no way of knowing that he abandoned you.”
“Maybe someday I’ll find him and I’ll be able to hear the explanation from his own lips. Until then, the Orestes I knew is dead to me.”
A jolt rips through my body. My brain bobs in my skull. How do I tell her what became of her brother?
“Spark? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “We’d better get inside.”
Every time the door to the small reception room swings open my heart surges-then deflates like an old tire at the sight of yet another stranger crossing the threshold. It’s been over thirty minutes already-the Graduation Ceremony is about to start-and still no sign of Cole or Mrs. Bledsoe.
And Digory’s still a no-show, too. I’m finally going to find out who his Incentives are, find out how who is so important to him.
Who it is that he loves …
A high-pitched giggle echoes across the room. Ophelia’s jumping up and down, embracing a woman and a little girl. She reminds me of that naive girl who bounced into Slade’s welcoming-committee speech on the first day we arrived at Infiernos, so long ago it seems now. The sight of their tender family reunion causes sadness to cluster in my throat, making it hard to swallow.
What’s taking Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe so long? I’m about to rip through my skin.
“Don’t panic, Spark,” Gideon says, as if reading my mind. “I’m sure your family will be here any minute.”
He’s standing alongside two other people, a man and a woman with shell-shocked eyes, their drab, plain clothes in stark contrast to his neatly pressed uniform. The woman’s graying hair is twisted into a bun, resembling a wrung-out washcloth. Even though the skin under her eyes is dark and puffy, her stare is strikingly similar to Gideon’s.
The man has his arms folded. His salt-and-pepper hair recedes from his forehead like an outgoing tide, draining what’s left of its color. The tip of his aquiline nose veers sharply to the left as if it’s been broken.
“These must be your folks,” I say, trying to draw them in with a smile. But it’s as though I’m not even there.
Gideon fidgets, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the couple and me. “Mom, Dad, this is-” He looks at me pointedly. “This is my friend, Lucian Spark.”
Friends. Yes. After Cassius, I never thought I’d be able to call anyone else that ever again. But with everything we Recruits have been through, we’re bonded now for the rest of our lives, however short that might turn out to be.
I hold out my hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Warrick.”
Mrs. Warrick stares at my hand as if it’s covered in manure. “We know who you are.”
Gideon’s eyes swell. “Mother!”
My extended hand drops to my side.
Deep fissures burrow into the corners of Mr. Warrick’s eyes. “This is a family discussion. You’re not welcome here.” His voice is gruff.
“No, Dad! Please!” Gideon steps between us.
I clap Gideon’s back and can’t help notice his wince. “It’s okay. Really.” I turn and nod at the Warricks, then look back at Gideon. “You should be very proud of your son. Enjoy your evening.”
As I walk away, I catch a few of Mrs. Warrick’s hushed words. “An enemy of the state! You don’t want to be mixed up with him. You know I always do what’s best for you-”
But her voice is drowned out by the thumping of blood ringing in my ears.
Something must be wrong …
Pushing my way toward the tall glass doors at the rear of the hall, I almost crash into Ophelia and her family.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble.
Ophelia is beaming. “It’s okay. I was coming over to introduce you to Mama and Maddie.”
The girl’s a couple of years younger than Ophelia. Whereas Ophelia’s hair is-was-a tangle of curls, her sister’s hangs limp and lifeless. It matches the blankness of her narrow eyes, which are hammocked by pronounced folds of flesh. Her forehead is broad on her small head. Her tattered dress drapes her body with all the finesse of rumpled laundry on a clothesline.
Ophelia hugs her close. “This is my little sister Madeleine.”
Madeleine drops her eyes and ducks behind her sibling, peeking up at me from the shield of Ophelia’s shoulder.
I wink at her. “Hello, Madeleine. My name’s Lucian.”
“She’s a little shy around new people.” Ophelia squeezes her again. “It’s all right, Maddie,” she coos. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
I peer around Ophelia and stare into the child’s eyes, smiling. “What a pretty dress.”
She cups a hand over her smile and looks down at her shoes. “Nife to meetchu,” she mumbles.
Her mother sighs. “For goodness sakes, Ophelia. Don’t let her”-she glares at Madeleine-“cling to you like that. It’s embarrassing enough we have to parade her around in front of everyone without worrying about her wrinkling your uniform.”
Madeleine’s eyes puddle. Her smile fades and she shrinks into the background like Ophelia’s shadow.
Despite their mother’s warnings, Ophelia kneels in front of her sister and wraps her in a hug. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Mama’s just nervous. You look sooo beautiful tonight. That’s why everyone’s staring at you instead of ugly ol’ me!” She plants a kiss on her forehead.
Mrs. Juniper rolls her eyes and smiles at me, exposing pointy teeth. Her resemblance to Ophelia is uncanny. Sure, there are a few more creases the cheap cosmetics can’t conceal, but it’s like looking at Ophelia fifteen years from now. Despite the worn fabric of her dress, she wears it with an elite air over her hourglass figure.
Her eyes twinkle. “You’re Spark, aren’t you?”
I nod, bracing myself for the same disdain I received from Gideon’s folks. Instead, she surprises me by clamping her arms around me in a tight hug and planting wet kisses on both my cheeks. A hand slithers across the back of my neck. “Such a bright boy. And handsome, too.” Her lips brush against my ear. “Pity we had to meet under such … trying … circumstances. Perhaps we can work out an arrangement that will be mutually beneficial to both you and my daughter … ”
She rambles on and on, something about working with Ophelia to eliminate the competition during the Trials, but her words become an insect’s drone as I focus on the scene taking place just behind her.
Two sets of bright green eyes are peering up at Cypress, belonging to a little boy and girl not much older than Cole. Her twins. Their hair is shiny black, just like Cypress’s; their cheeks are flushed with pink. Both are dressed in neatly pressed matching amber jumpsuits. Their little hands are entwined.
Cypress turns away from them. Her eyes meet mine. She’s trembling-rage or pain, I can’t be sure. Tears stream down her face.
A crushing weight squeezes all the air free of my lungs.
I have to get out of this room.
Nodding as politely as I can, I pull away from Mrs. Juniper. “It was a pleasure meeting you. But I really have to find my family.”
Before she can protest, I barrel past her and push open the terrace doors with such force I can feel them rattling in their hinges.