The Fairy sighs.
Sheesh, it’s just a question. Excuse me for having no idea who I am or where I come from.
“The blue ink, as you should well know, is something only Fairies and their kind can see.”
“Yeah, I got that part. But where does it come from?”
Another sigh.
Is this how other people feel when I act annoyed? As if their existence alone is a burden?
“To answer your question.” She tugs harder, forcing me toward the center of the pool behind the falls. “The ink is not ink, it’s sap from trees watered by the Fairy Fountains. And to answer your earlier question . . .” Her yank on my collar chokes me.
Ease up, will ya?
“Our fate was one worse than death. Some called us menaces, while others knew us as the dark ones.”
I think of Josh and how opposite he was from David. She can’t mean—
“But most everybody called us Shadowalkers.” One last tug has me swimming. I take a deep breath just as she says, “Now come. I have something you’ll want to see.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Ky
This way now.” Dahlia’s steps grow slower. Odd ones, these Evers. They can survive most anything. Still they grow weary, feel pain like everyone else.
Song’s on the ground too, though she’s making sure we all know she’s not happy about it. She keeps looking at the sky, braiding and unbraiding her blue-streaked hair.
“Stop your fussin’, Wren. You’ll get yer chance to take on griffin form soon enough. For now, we want to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible.”
Song’s shoulders slump.
Aw, what’s this? Poor baby can’t fly? Is she ever not mad about something? For all her brooding, I’d think she’d win most likely to become a Shadowalker. Yet she’s as loyal to the Verity as any. Just goes to show you can’t judge a book, or a Mask, by its cover.
The muggy, almost-polluted air casts a gloom over everything. Cornfields wilt and roofs sink. Weeds crawl and grass appears as a patchwork quilt. Not like the clean desert of the Fifth where every breath brought relief. This place carries a thickness, a gravity that pulls you down. The sooner we find Em and get out of here, the sooner I can inhale without protest.
Despite the foul air, walking brings me solace, provides time to return to the past once more. I tune out Song’s complaints and relive the memory of the fire. As the stranger said, the drink would take me where I was needed most. Much like the Void and Verity are connected, one forever relying on the other, the Rose’s dew seems to bond with your soul.
“I can’t breathe!” Em rasped. “We’re going to die!”
I seized her hand. She still wouldn’t make eye contact, but it didn’t matter. “No, we won’t. I promise.”
I removed my jacket and wrapped it around her slender shoulders. “Put your arms in. It will protect you.”
She did as I asked. My Guardian jacket looked like an oversized sail on her mast-thin frame. The double doors at the hall’s opposite end were hardly visible due to the thick smoke. We were ready to make a run for it, both of our faces half covered with our shirts, but then—
Boom!
“What was that?” she cried, whipping her head this way and that.
“Gas leak.” I didn’t mean for her to hear the mutter, but my mouth ran ahead of my mind. Flames crackled and licked. My pulse raced, and I could feel Em’s heartbeat through the underside of her wrist. This was no high jump, but the fear was just as tangible as if I were a thousand feet aboveground. I couldn’t let her see I was scared too. Couldn’t defeat the whole hero persona and all.
I looked left and right. Closed my eyes so hard my head ached. What good was Guardian training plus all the torture Tiernan put me through if I couldn’t escape something as miniscule as a fire?
My eyes opened. There, just a few feet behind us in the wall to our right, was a vent. I dragged Em to it. Crouched. Listened. The faintest echo of sirens and shouts pierced the walls. The vent led outside. I was 99 percent positive.
“I’m going to remove the grate and then you crawl through. Follow it until you’re outside. It will be smoky, it will be dark, but you should be safe from the fire.”
Her lower lip quivered as she stared at the vent in horror. “But what about you?”
“I’m too big. I’ll find another way.” I forced my tone to make it sound easier than it was.
“Promise?”
“Always,” I said. Always.
I pecked the top of her head. It was innocent, the same kind of kiss I’ve given Khloe since the day she was born. I never imagined something so small and quick could strengthen our bond even more.
Em never looked at me. Not before she crawled into that rectangular hole in the wall or even when I called after her to keep going. I remained on my knees, waited until I heard the signal.
“I’m out!” Her voice came as an echoed murmur. But it was all I needed.
She was safe. I’d done my job. I rose and dusted off my pants.
Another explosion blasted the hall.
“Crowe! Void! Gage!” Knocked on my rear, I groaned every curse-worthy word in my vocabulary. I cradled my arm. The fracture was undeniable. I’d have to see a Physic and soon. But first I had to get out. And fast.
I didn’t see little Em again. Not when I exited the building, clothing singed and smelling of burnt flesh. I looked everywhere, but she and her mother were already gone. In the time it took to blink, I was returned to The Seven Seas. The stranger was gone, along with one of the ship’s lifeboats. It was just as well. Em was alive. What else mattered?
Did Em tell Elizabeth I kissed her that day? She must have. Now more than ever I believe her mother was the hooded stranger. Her talk of soul love, the three Kisses of Infinity. Who else would know for certain Em’s greatest need matched up with the desires of my heart? The Scrib didn’t have a delivery for Countess Ambrose—Elizabeth simply needed an excuse to board my ship as an anonymous passenger.
I may never know the answer for certain, but whatever happened always would. In Em’s life, I always went back to save her. She never knew any differently. I’ve not once questioned what would have taken place if I hadn’t chosen to drink the strange substance. Because I will always choose her. No questions asked.
I can only hope this time isn’t different. Josh stole my drink today. Let’s hope he loves her enough. That her location is where he’s needed most. And if not?
Let’s just say I might allow Kyaphus out of his cage long enough to do a little damage.
“Trust me, you don’t want to eat those.”
Dahlia’s warning is useless. Wren reaches for an apple hanging from a tree loaded with an assortment of fruits.
Dahlia bats her hand, blocks her path. “Take a bite from one of them and you’ll get your fingers gnawed clean off.”
“Is there anything we can eat? Or perhaps you’d have us all starve.”
“Not my fault you didn’t pack supplies,” Dahlia says.
“I’m a hunter. If I could take on my Mask I’d be just fine.”
For pity’s sake, we ate a few hours ago. I remove a container of jerky from my pack and toss it to her. “Don’t eat it all.”
She glares. Gives no thanks, surprise, surprise. But she devours it. The sight is enough to make me laugh, though I don’t know how she can think about food right now. My stomach rumbles, filled with an endless ache that won’t subside until she’s found. Em is the constant on my mind. Is it the same for Josh? For David maybe, but Josh?