“No, no!” she cries. “You can’t go. Not after what happened. Not after what I did.”
“Charlie, it’s okay.” A lump forms in my throat. “They’ll watch after you.”
“But where are you going?”
I glance over my shoulder at the cliff and the ocean beyond it. Blue’s right, we can’t stay out here much longer, but I’m afraid if I go back inside, I’ll never leave. “Charlie, you have to trust me. Go back inside the Hive before the other sirens—”
“I won’t go until you tell me where you’re going,” she snarls. Charlie is slowly becoming hysterical. Blood drips from her shirt onto the ground, and her eyes are wide with fear. “Tell me. Tell me!”
I pry her fingers from my shirt as tears sting my eyes. Charlie’s bottom lip trembles.
My heart.
It may never beat again.
Aspen comes to stand beside me. “Are you ready?” I ask her in a whisper. She pulls in a deep breath and takes my hand. Her glove feels slick against my palm.
Seeing this, Charlie goes apeshit. Blue wraps his arms around her waist as Charlie throws herself toward me. “Her? You’re taking her?”
As Charlie writhes against Blue, I can’t help but be amazed. I can’t believe she ever thought I’d want her to change. This beautiful, peaceful girl. Look at her go. She’s thrashing like a rabid beast. Fighting for what she wants.
No, I never wanted her to change.
But she has.
“I lost my Grams,” Charlie says. “I won’t lose you, too.” Her face is twisted with misery. It’s only been a few days since Grams passed away. Each night, I see it in the way Charlie sleeps—broken and filled with nightmares. But during the day she pushes it down so we won’t know, so we won’t feel sorry for her. Not now, though. Now the pain is right there, raw. So close it’s like I could reach out and grab it.
Her words sting, but I won’t stay. Because I love her—I love her—but this is about saving her life. And it’s about saving the lives of others, too. I don’t want to care about other people, those humans whose faces I’ve never seen and whose names I’ve never learned. But I do. I care because Charlie taught me how to care. And now I have to do what’s right.
Even if it means leaving her.
Even if it means I may never return.
I release Aspen’s hand and take Charlie Cooper’s face in my hands. My chest breaks open. “My sweet angel,” I whisper. “You are my pain. You are my reason. I love you. I love you.”
Our lips connect. I taste the salt of her tears, the tang of siren blood on her mouth. I kiss her as if it might be the last time.
And then I let go and turn away.
I start walking.
Max and Aspen follow, and Charlie starts to sob.
“You love me?” she cries. “You love me! You said forever, Dante. Forever means you can’t leave. You can’t. You said forever!”
I can still hear her screaming as she’s dragged inside the Hive. With every step I take, my body burns hotter. My hands shake, and I clench my teeth. I want to run to her, to dry her tears. But I just keep walking. I must.
Forever.
35 
Good-bye, Friend
Twelve hours later, after a grueling flight, little sleep, and bad food, Max, Aspen, and I wait on a private runway for our car. We may have left the Hive without a dime between us, but Max had his phone. And though Valery is none too pleased that Max came along, she did agree to make us accommodations once he explained what we needed.
I’m still thinking about the things Charlie said when a black sedan pulls up. I hope she knows I’m doing this for her.
Inside the car, Aspen shifts in the leather seat, bringing me out of my head. She works her necklace between her fingers and watches me. She’s waiting for some kind of direction, but I have nothing to give her.
“So,” she says. “Alaska.”
I shrug.
“I thought it’d be somewhere hot.” Aspen glances at Max, hoping she’ll have more luck digging information out of him. But he doesn’t look at her. He’s lost in thought, and I don’t have to guess who he’s thinking about. Or what color her hair is.
I don’t want to talk. I just want to let my stomach eat itself. But Aspen has done something phenomenal. She’s volunteered to go on this soul-stealing mission whether it’s a good idea or not, and I feel like I owe her my attention.
“We’ll be there in a couple of hours,” I say. “It takes time to drive in this kind of weather.”
Aspen looks outside the window. Snow flurries lash by us in a strange war dance. The road is barely two lanes wide, and I can only really see the tracks where other tires have driven. Before long, that’ll be gone, too. Then we’ll be on snowmobiles.
“I would have thought we’d be somewhere hot,” Aspen repeats.
Exactly, I think. That’s why we’re here instead.
Before long, the driver stops the car. He gets out and pops the trunk. Then he gets back in and hands us thermal wear and heavy jackets. As he tosses a red beanie to me, I wonder how much he knows about what we’re doing out here.
Next to nothing.
They never know anything. But then again, that’s the luxury money affords you. Pay someone enough, and they won’t ask questions. Sometimes I see a familiar face, but the end result is always the same: car, snowmobiles, no questions.
When Max and I step outside, the snow bites at my exposed skin. There isn’t much of it considering I’m wearing two layers of heavy-duty winter clothing, snow goggles, a stocking cap, and gloves. Aspen finishes changing in the car and steps outside. Though the wind howls, I can still hear her gasp from the sudden change in temperature.
“It won’t be for long,” I yell. Then I nod toward the three red-and-black snowmobiles. Max shakes hands with one of the snowmobile drivers. Aspen and I stomp over as the guys pass us and jump inside the sedan, the chains on the snow tires clinking as the car pulls away. I give Aspen a quick rundown of how to work the snowmobile. She nods her head and hugs her arms around her waist.
Max checks something in the storage area behind the seat and gives me a thumbs-up. I know what he was checking for, but I don’t want to think about it. Not yet.
I glance at Aspen and cock my head forward. She gets on her snowmobile and tugs on a helmet. I can see her body shaking, but I’m not sure whether it’s from the cold or something else.
After pulling on my own helmet, my right thumb squeezes the throttle, and we’re off.
I lean into turns and barely notice the numbness snaking over my body. I don’t have to ask for directions. Neither does Max. We’d know the way with closed eyes and frostbitten balls. Every time I catch Aspen driving in my peripheral vision, my stomach flutters. This was a mistake, I can’t help thinking. She shouldn’t be here.
But then I remember what she said at the Hive, about this being the reason I was assigned to her, the reason she’s so important to Big Guy. So I focus on that. And I think about Charlie. I try to keep them both suspended in my mind. It helps.
At least until I see it—
The entrance to hell.
Max and I turn our snowmobiles to the right and ease off the throttle. Then we dismount and head into the forest with Aspen at our heels. The first time I had to find the tree, the white spruce among all the others, I imagined I’d never make my way back to it. There are no distinguishing marks. Nothing that says, I am the one to take you there. But trust me when I say once you know it’s the one, it’s hard to unknow it.