“Mom,” Sophie whispered, gently brushing her fingertips to Moira’s hair, the ends of which were singed.
“Why . . .” Moira coughed. “Why do you still call me that?”
“You’re the only mom I ever had,” Sophie said simply. Andreyev pulled up a chair for her to sit.
“Lux is gone,” said Sophie abruptly. Jim lifted a hand to hide his face.
“I know.” Moira turned her head and stared at a still form covered with a sheet on the next table. Sophie went to it and slowly pulled back the cloth.
Lux could have been sleeping, except for the trail of blood from her nose, already dried on her face. Jim lowered his hand and felt his knees give out. He sat abruptly, his eyes fixed on her frozen face.
“She was thrown clear of the blast,” said Moira. “Her legs were burned pretty badly, but that isn’t what . . .”
It wasn’t what killed her, Jim thought. Sophie, her hands trembling, took a corner of the sheet and wiped her sister’s face clean. “Jim told her not to set off the bomb, but she did it anyway.”
Moira’s breath stopped, then she breathed out in a rasp. “That’s impossible.”
“I saw it.” Sophie’s voice was flat, emotionless. “She broke the bond. Went her own way. At the very end, she was strong enough. Do you think that’s what it was? Do you think in breaking the chip’s hold, she did this to herself?” Her eyes met Jim’s briefly, guiltily, and then it was he who looked away.
“I don’t . . . We’ve never seen this before. . . .” Moira fell silent for a long moment. Jim leaned against the table, his arms folded across his chest. He could feel his heart racing like a frantic animal in his chest. He watched Sophie as she leaned down and kissed Lux’s cheek, leaving a few tears on her skin before she raised the sheet over her face. For a brief, wild moment, he wanted to rip the sheet away and tell her to get up, to see if his influence on her reached beyond death. But he stayed still and lowered his eyes, fixing them on a beetle that was scurrying in circles beneath the table Moira was lying on.
“She broke the bond,” Moira said at last. “But then, of course she did. She was your twin. She had your strength.”
“Ha.” Sophie’s voice turned bitter. “Not strong enough to save her.”
“But strong enough to save me.” Moira lifted a burned hand, winced at the effort. “And to save every other Vitro on this island. You did this. Not that,” she glanced at the flames at the top of the hill, “but this.” She gestured at the doctors and Vitros around them.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. Don’t you ever get cavalier about life, Sophie Jane Crue. Don’t you ever think it doesn’t matter. Each and every one of them owes their life to you, and you owe your life to Lux. Don’t take that for granted.”
Sophie closed her eyes and nodded.
“We could toss blame around till the sun goes down,” Moira went on. “And I think you’d find that each and every one of us has a piece of it to bear.”
Jim turned away, his eyes smarting. He knew he bore more than just a piece; he wore his guilt like a chain around his neck. If I hadn’t woken Lux in the first place . . . If I just stayed away . . .
“Jim.” He turned around. Moira was looking at him. “Little James Julien. Was it only yesterday you two were running around under the palms, raising hell and laughing all the way? Happy days. Happy memories.” She sighed. “That goes for you, too, Jim. If you must trace blame to its source, look to Nicholas. And if you look to Nicholas, you must look then to me. He would never have become what he was if not for me.”
Tell me, who is the monster? The creation or the creator?
“But if you chase blame back to me,” Moira continued in a rasp, “then you have to ask why I did what I did. I did it because Corpus paid me to. Are they to blame? Where does it end? Listen to me, the both of you.” They each turned to reluctantly meet her fervent gaze. “You will walk away from here and you will leave all of this behind, do you understand?”
They exchanged guilty looks.
“Let it go.” Moira let her head drop, shut her eyes wearily. “Let it go.”
Sophie burst into tears. She laid her head on the table beside Moira and sobbed. Moira looked down at her, her eyes watering, and then up at Jim beseechingly. Of course. She couldn’t hold Sophie, not in her state. So Jim pulled her into his arms and let her weep onto his shoulder.
“Let it go,” Moira whispered, tears coursing over her burns.
They sat thus for several long minutes, until Sophie’s tears subsided. Jim sat stock still and held her tight. All around them, doctors were soothing frantic newborn Vitros; they seemed lost and confused without Nicholas. They would have to find a way to break the bond, Jim thought. If Lux could do it, so could they. He finally glimpsed Strauss, standing under a palm tree in the distance, talking to a few guards. The morning took on a dreamlike tempo: crackling fire, rushing sea, whispering wind. The smell of salt and smoke.
After a while, Moira said, “Andreyev. You should go.”
He stirred from where he’d been leaning against one of the roof supports. “Come,” he said to Jim. “Can she walk now?”
“Where are we going?”
“I will take you back to Guam. We must go now. I want to get a head start on Strauss. I need to reach Corpus before she does, to tell them of what happened here. I feel if they hear her version of these events first, they will not be as accommodating of the changes I wish to implement on Skin Island.”
Sophie sat up quickly. “I can’t leave my mother like this,” she said.
“The doctors will care for her. They have already proven their loyalty when they stood up to Strauss. Never fear, child.”
“Sophie.” Moira turned her head. “Go. If you don’t leave now, you may never leave at all. Strauss will do everything she can to contain this. She’ll trap you here if she can as one of the Vitros. I won’t have it. You go and live your life and leave this place behind.”
Sophie assented, her shoulders squaring as if a great weight had been lifted from her. “There’s just one more thing,” she said. “Something you should know.” She ran a hand through her hair, then bent over Moira. “I love you. You lied to me, used me, abandoned me—but I love you anyway. Not because I owe you or because I feel obligated to—that’s not really love anyway, is it? I love you because I want to, because I choose to. I love you, but I can’t . . . I can’t live for you anymore. Do you understand that?”
Jim looked away, embarrassed to be watching such a private exchange, but he heard Moira’s soft reply, “I have a lot to answer for in my life, and I’ve done a lot of things I regret— but you are not one of them. If there is any one thing I can point to and say I am proud of that; I would never change a thing, it would be you. You’re the one thing I got right, however unlikely that is. I brought you into this world and though I am not responsible for any of your virtues, I can at least say I had a hand in giving you a chance. I love you, Sophie.”
When Sophie joined him, her face was dry.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I’m ready.”
They followed Andreyev and his bodyguards up the hillside; the chopper was covered in ashes, but looked relatively unscathed.
“Wait,” Sophie said. “The keys! Nicholas had them. How will we—”
Andreyev held up a glimmering key ring. “The ones Strauss had her pilot hand over were not the helicopter keys. I believe she intended to shoot Nicholas before he ever reached the chopper.”
Jim stared at the keys. “Why do I feel as if the real psychopath is still running loose?”
“Because she is,” Andreyev said darkly. He jumped into the helicopter and offered Sophie a hand up. Jim climbed in with them and they settled into the backseat.