From within my prison, I reach out to the girl they brought back. I catch flashes of her life through her eyes, so brief she cannot know I am there. A sea of faces and cameras as she describes a shipwreck. The glint of a gemstone held between two fingers and a young man’s face looking up at her. A house, half-built in the wilderness, the sky thick with stars.
And the blue-eyed man.
Each time I see him I push harder, but the girl’s mind is strong. She draws nearer and nearer to my prison and still I cannot breach her defenses. All I need is one chance, a single moment to slip inside her mind, escaping my prison forever.
Then, another flash. A blond girl in a ball gown, holding a weapon. A shattering sound. A blinding pain shooting through us both.
And for an instant, Lilac LaRoux’s guard falls.
MY THROAT’S HALF-CLOSED IN panic, and it’s only as Sofia stirs again that I can breathe. I force my shaking hands to still, flex my fingers, and creep forward once again.
“Lilac, darling,” Monsieur LaRoux says from his place on the floor. “Can’t you just get rid of them all?”
I’d forgotten he was there, and so had the others, judging by the way their heads snap around.
“Their little toys make it so hard to see where they are,” Lilac replies. So the shields are reaching far enough to protect me—to protect all of us, since nobody’s eyes have turned black just yet. “We’re still missing Giddy,” she continues, and behind that smile, that nickname that infuriates me coming from her, there’s a note of steel in her voice that sends a bolt of ice straight down my spine. Prey, that voice says. That’s what you are. And I want to play with you.
“Bloody Marchant boys, always late,” LaRoux mutters.
“My father doesn’t understand,” Lilac says, addressing Sofia, who stands her ground—albeit swaying slightly—meeting her eyes. “He’s chosen to see what he sees now. How could he ever face the truth? He took my freedom from me. My life. My death. He took everything, for his own gain.” For a moment it seems she’ll say more, but her eyes close, and her shoulders round, tension singing through her frame. A ragged breath later, she’s straightening once more.
“The others,” Lilac continues, “they don’t understand either. The rest of my kind, on the other side of the rift…They wanted to find out if humanity is worth knowing, worth learning from. We’d been alone in our universe until your ships started ripping through it, and we thought there was something to be gained from reaching out to you.” She breathes out, sharp, disgust in her eyes. “They know nothing. I’m the one who’s been here since the start. I’m the one who’s seen what you really are.”
“Lilac?” LaRoux’s voice falters—there’s an edge to it, something rough and raw. It’s the part of him that understands what’s happening, buried under layers of willful misunderstanding and incipient madness.
“The five of you,” Lilac whispers, ignoring her father as her eyes rake across us. “And Lilac, this insipid, weak-minded idiot I’m forced to wear. Six souls, linked in ways you cannot possibly comprehend, set on this path to lead you here, now. Every one of you has seen the worst of humanity, and you were meant to show us whether you were worth knowing.”
I wish I had the luxury of stopping, of reeling after hearing these words. The idea that our paths were destined to intersect—that I was always going to be here, facing the woman my brother died for, in love with the girl whose father died in the explosion that brought Jubilee and Flynn together, watching Lee’s former captain gazing at Lilac’s face with his heart in his eyes—I can’t breathe.
“But the truth,” Lilac goes on, her eyes burning, “is that we never needed any of you. We never had to look any further than the man who opened the very first door.”
She turns finally to look at LaRoux, still huddled on the floor, who gazes at her with a pathetic hope in his eyes.
“We will start with our keeper,” she whispers. “We will give him the same pain he has given us. We will take his family from him, and all he knows, and every soul who has ever touched him. And then we will close our world to you forever, cut you off from each other and keep you from spreading like the disease you are. We will keep him alive, to watch. And then, once he has realized the thing he has done—then we will leave him, howling, in the darkness that will claim you all.”
Jubilee gasps, one hand flying to her gut as though she’s been punched. She’s swaying on her feet, her gaze distant. She’s in some other place, some other moment, just now.
“Lee?” Tarver starts to step forward, then jerks to a halt as Lilac’s hand lifts to forbid him movement. But Flynn’s already by her side, his hand creeping toward the gun at his hip. I don’t know if he has it in him to fire it.
“One of my kind said something rather like that to her, in another place,” the whisper replies. “I saw it in her mind up on the ship, before…” Her hand lifts, then dives toward the ground, fingers spreading to casually mimic the explosion as the Daedalus crashed. “I quite like the sound of it. Seems fair, don’t you think?”
I force myself to keep moving—I’m so close to the rift now, and I can feel the thumb drive in my pocket, pressing into my hipbone. Such a small vessel for such a deadly weapon, for the virus I crafted from Sanjana’s notes. My one bullet. My one chance.
Lilac gasps suddenly, bowing her head, lifting a hand to run it through her hair—the first sign of anything out of place, disheveled.
“Careful,” Sofia says, lifting her chin. “You’ll ruin your hair for the cameras.” She’s playing for time now, time for me.
“Hardly,” Lilac replies, but there’s strain beneath her amusement. “They’re trying to come through. I won’t let them.” The words are murmured, almost to herself, though her eyes go to the rift, the doorway to her universe.
“Lilac, I—” Monsieur LaRoux starts to speak, but Lilac cuts him off with a slice of her hand.
“Do excuse him,” she says, light once more, as though he’s an embarrassing inconvenience, like an uncle who’s had one too many drinks at lunch. “Family. You know how it is.”
Sofia steps forward, and though her whole body’s shaking, there’s a strength holding her spine ramrod straight. “No,” she says, soft but clear.
“I’m sorry?” Lilac lofts one brow.
“My father died, thanks to what he did.” Sofia lifts a hand, to point one trembling finger at LaRoux. “So I’ll never have another chance to ‘know how it is.’ Jubilee lost her parents, thanks to what he did. Flynn lost his sister in a war sparked by what he did. Gideon lost his brother, thanks to what he did. And Tarver—” Her voice breaks, and she sucks in a rasping breath, forcing herself onward. “Tarver lost Lilac, thanks to what he did.”
I shift my weight forward another step—I’m so close to the rift now, the blue sparks are lighting up my vision. The crackle of electricity distorts their voices in my ears, making every hair on my arms stand on end—each movement feels like I’m passing through cobwebs.
They’re trying to come through.
That’s what she said. She means the other whispers. The blue sparks surge and push, the center of the rift glowing bright. They’re trying to come through—and she doesn’t want them to.