“I know, but that’s why I need you,” I say with emphasis. “I can see the big picture. I can see how they’ve manipulated the time in here, and once I release it, he’ll need you to bind it off.”
“Tie it off?” Dante says, unsure.
“You’ll see. Watch his strands, once he’s released from the time of the room, he’ll be leaching time, sort of like bleeding, I guess. You have to stop the bleeding. That’s all.”
Albert in the meantime has remained in his seat, watching us with fascination.
“Are you ready for us to try, Doctor?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
“I can’t guarantee anything,” I warn him.
“I understand and accept that. The mortal man in me is—admittedly—a bit afraid. Not so much of death but of pain. It was not pleasant when they did this to me in the first place. But the scientist in me is eager for the adventure. Your abilities fascinate me.”
“You say that now,” Dante mutters.
I take a deep breath and focus on the room. There are many strands at play in the composition of it, but perhaps because it’s more reminiscent of the artificial weave of Arras, I feel oddly at ease. I understand how this room exists and how Albert exists within it. He is part of the larger tapestry of the house, connected to the sluggish time strands that lie within its permanent architecture—objects locked into place and time. In short, a house. The trick will be to rend him of them quickly and with as little pain as possible. I focus harder until I see Albert, his natural time allotment interlaced with the permanent time of the house, locking him into place. I have to separate his strands and sever those of the room. If I fail, if I accidentally sever one of his natural time strands, the results could be disastrous, but I try not to think about that.
“I wish I had a hook or something,” I mutter.
“Why?” Dante asks in a shaky voice.
“I need to rip something. It would be easier.”
“How did you rip through Arras?” Dante asks.
“I was really pissed off,” I admit.
“Can you channel that, but maybe over at the wall?” Dante suggests. “If you severed the time over there, we could pull it through his strands.”
This is why I asked for Dante’s help. His second set of eyes proves invaluable. I’d been planning on severing the time of the room within Albert, which might have gotten messy.
“It would help if I was pissed off,” I point out.
“You need help getting there? Let’s see. Kincaid betrayed you. Planned to alter you. Your sister is in the Coventry, and Arras knows what they’ve done to her. They’ve murdered your f-father.” Dante stumbles on the word. “Your whole world is built on lies. Am I helping?”
I feel the familiar ache of rage rising in my chest.
“And if you don’t do this, we’ll die at the Guild’s hands,” Dante adds softly. “They’ll kill me and him. They’ll kill Jost, Erik. If they don’t turn them into monsters first.”
Something snaps inside, something I’m unwilling to reason with or fight, and I reach out and rend the weave of the room. It splits down the middle in a jagged line. As it hangs open, the room around us starts to change. Furniture cracks and the walls crumble down. The room is unwinding on itself.
“I should have seen that coming,” I say.
“Albert!” Dante shouts. Before us he trembles, aging slowly before our eyes, withering as we stare in horror.
“We have to extract him now. He’s decaying with the room.”
Dante and I set to work, gripping the severed time strands and sliding them out of Albert, extricating him quickly from the fractured web of time in the room. With each strand that’s pulled through him, he spasms, but the aging slows and his breathing returns to normal. He still bears the marks of age from the accelerated entropy, but he’s free.
Around us the room continues to crumble, falling in at the corners, and turning to dust. If I hadn’t had Dante to help me there was no way I could have extracted him in time. Dante pulls Albert up, and the old scientist rests against our shoulders as we dash toward the front door.
Amid the crumbling of wood and walls, Albert leans into me and whispers something in my ear. With time crashing in on us, the words barely process in my distracted mind, but they lodge there. I don’t have time to contemplate their meaning now.
Outside, the others wait. Jost paces the porch and Erik leans against the frame of the house, but Valery grips the railing, looking out on the choppy waters of the bay.
“It worked?” Jost says, jumping to help Dante bring Albert into the night air.
“Yes, but we’ve got to get out of here. The house isn’t stable,” I say.
“My papers,” Albert says with a moan.
“Where are they?” Dante asks. “I’ll go for them.”
“My study. The third door on the second level.” Albert’s voice is small and tired.
Dante and I exchange a look. Going back in will be dangerous, but he rushes into the house before I can say anything to stop him.
“We should go now,” Valery calls.
“Let’s give him a minute to catch his breath,” Jost suggests.
“No!” Valery’s refusal startles me, and I turn to her. Her shape is small against the blank night sky, but I see why she’s pushing us. In the distance, an aeroship is hovering over the water, coming closer to the island by the second.
“We’ve got company,” I yell.
“Who?” Erik asks, coming to my side. “Kincaid?”
“I can’t tell,” I say.
Valery turns to us, and even in the dark I see her face is hollow. “The Guild.”
“How can you know that?” I ask.
She pauses, and I already dread her answer.
“Because I told them we would be here.”
FORTY
“WHAT?” I ASK, MY MIND TRYING TO process the rapidly decaying house behind me, the sight of the hovering aeroship in the distance, and Valery’s betrayal at the same time.
It’s a bit too much to take in at once.
But Erik has his gun drawn. “I thought you landing in our party was a little suspicious. What did it take, Valery?”
She cowers back and he moves forward, edging closer to her, but she doesn’t run from him. “They did things to me. You saw the labs, Erik. Don’t you remember?”
“And now you’ve conveniently had a change of heart?” he snarls.
“Erik!” I call in a sharp voice.
“It wasn’t like that,” Valery says. She points to me as tears begin to stream down her face. “They told me it was your fault. That if I helped them, I could have Enora back, but…”
“But?” I prompt.
“They tried to make me forget her. Make me want other things. Cormac said they made me normal, and that when I returned to Arras, I would be happy,” she says, choking as she speaks, “because I had served the Guild.”
“They sent you here to spy on us,” Erik accuses.
“I hated you,” Valery says to me. Her words implore me to understand, and part of me does. The part of me that blames myself for Enora’s death. “That hate became stronger until it was the only feeling I was sure was true. It consumed me. When I saw you that day in the grey market, I wanted to lure you into an alley and do what the Guild wouldn’t do.”
Icicles crawl down my spine, branching out in chills through my body. So I hadn’t imagined seeing Valery that day, but I didn’t know she had seen me, too.
“But you didn’t,” I say. “You didn’t do that, Valery. You’re better than they would let you be.”
“No, I followed orders. I led you to the shop, so that you would find the truth. Seek Kincaid and walk into their arms. They knew you would come here eventually, but only after you led Kincaid to the same place.”
Every moment has been engineered since we got here, carefully executed to ensure we would be standing here right now. Have all our decisions been so carefully directed by Valery? I co
nsider how she warmed to us at the estate after being cold and unfriendly and then shifted back to coldness. Her connection with Deniel, the Tailor who attacked me. The rest is murky.
“You sent Deniel,” I accuse her, “so I would distrust Kincaid.”
“Cormac’s idea,” Valery admits. “He knew you would turn against him after you went snooping. We only had to get you to snoop.”
“Bit of a gamble,” Erik says.
“That’s the thing. The reason I’ve hated Adelice the most. She tries to do what’s right even at the cost of alliances and power.”
“And you hate me for that?”
“I hated you because it’s not that simple,” she cries. “Don’t you see what you’re sacrificing? Who you’re sacrificing?”
This time I advance on her, my fists balled, my body shaking. “I never wanted this. I’ve done the best I can. Do you want me to become another Creweler locked in a room doing the best I can? Or worse—Cormac?”
“I’m starting to understand.” Valery holds her hands out, stopping my advance and my words. “I tried to keep hating you, but I can’t anymore.”
“How is that even possible?” Jost asks, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe her.
“Emotional and psychological alteration is tricky,” Dante says, and I turn to see he’s been here listening to her confession. “It takes the most talented of Tailors. Don’t do it properly and it never fully takes, but alter too much and you wind up with a void, someone who seems half human, half there. Altering a person’s psychology can have drastic effects, turning a person into a blank slate.”
Beth, the girl next door when I was a child, a variant in her own little world. The citizens of Cypress watching with apathy as I cut the ribbon on their new school. Enora blankly reciting the Guild’s plan to map me. I’ve seen it myself throughout my life in Arras, never knowing how deep the Guild’s fingers were in the minds of those around me.
“But Enora was like Valery,” I say, pointing to her. “Except more…”
“Cunning?” he asks. “It should have been a warning sign, but it’s easy enough to overlook on Earth. They couldn’t remove her memories of you entirely, not if they wanted her to find you. But if she was your friend’s lover, they removed that. Spliced what they considered to be normal feelings into her.”
“I wanted her back,” Valery says, a break in her voice. “I remember that. Enough to do anything they asked.”
“They couldn’t give her back to you. Enora slipped past their fingers,” I tell her.
“I know. I knew, but it didn’t matter.”
Grief is a funny thing, I think. It can make you see things that aren’t there and ignore what’s in front of your face. Bitterness channels itself into anger and stupid backtalk and a million other destructive impulses. I knew that better than anyone.
“But why now?” Jost asks.
“Because it’s too late,” Erik says.
“No, it isn’t,” Valery says. “We can leave off the far side of the island.”
“That won’t buy us enough time,” Dante says to her. “You told us now because the alteration didn’t take. You may have hated Adelice, but emotional altering doesn’t work if a person changes her mind. Am I right in guessing you no longer harbor a grudge against her?”
“I tried. I wanted to keep hating her, because then it was easier,” she says.
Albert lifts his head and in a faint voice addresses us. “Nothing can remove free will. Our self-determination is bound to our very souls. It is the thing that defines our humanity.”
“You really want us to get away?” I ask in a low voice that only Valery can hear.
“Yes,” she says. “I’ll stay. I’ll misdirect them, but go.”
I know what they’ll do to Valery if we leave her behind, and part of me wants to go. The part that reels from her betrayal, that feels led around for months. But she’s made the same sacrifice that Enora would have made. That’s why they loved each other. I can’t blame her for being angry and lashing out. Haven’t I done the same? Haven’t I risked lives in the Coventry with my smart, unthinking mouth?
“No one gets left behind,” I say. “Jost, where’s the boat?”
“We circled the island looking for you. It’s on the northern side,” he says.
“The ship is sailing from the south, so she’s right. If we go now there might be enough time to get away,” I say. “Get it ready.”
“Ad,” Erik says in a deep voice, “there’s no way we can outrun that ship. Someone should stay behind. If you won’t let her, then I’ll do it.”
“I know you think you have debts to pay, but stop trying to prove yourself,” I snap. “I’m not letting any of you stay behind, especially not you.”
Behind us the warden’s house creaks, and a wall caves in, forcing Dante to drag Albert away from it. Dust from the plaster billows out around us.
“This is the first place they’ll come,” I say. “We shouldn’t wait here.”
Everyone scurries across the large concrete yard toward the prison, and the road that will lead us to the boat, but before I reach it, Erik’s hand grabs my wrist, stopping me.
“You have to get away, Adelice. They’re coming for you and Albert. I can’t let them take you,” he says.
“Why are you telling me this now? We can all go,” I say.
“No, we can’t,” he says. “Not if there’s a chance for you to escape. I can confuse them, lead them into the prison. We’ll play hide-and-seek. It’ll be fun.” He tries to shrug nonchalantly, to look charming and casual and carefree, but his shoulders pitch too high and there’s no sparkle in his eyes.
“I can’t let you do that,” I whisper, turning in to him.
“Yes, you can.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because we love each other,” he murmurs. “And we always knew this day would come.”
My lips close over his, sealing the truth of his statement. I linger in the kiss, knowing what I have to do and dreading it. His lips stay firm against mine and his hand stays clasped tight in mine. Our bodies aren’t fighting to press closer together. This kiss is gentle and full of promises that can never be fulfilled, and it leaves an ache consuming me. It’s the kiss we should have shared long ago but never made the time for, and now it’s too late. It’s more than goodbye—it’s regret.
Now. Only now, a tiny voice urges me.
So I kiss Erik. I kiss him goodbye. I kiss him for all the moments we will never have, and because I know I love him.
Because I know I’m leaving him.
FORTY-ONE
THE BREEZE OFF THE OCEAN GHOSTS THROUGH us. Its chill makes me shiver and Erik pulls away, rubbing my shoulders to warm me, both of us dazed enough to forget where we are for a moment.
Unfortunately, a moment is too long to waste.
“Ahh, young love,” purrs a voice. “Isn’t that sweet?”
We whirl toward the voice. Ahead of us, the others are frozen to the spot. No one tries to run. We’re all trying to figure out what the next move is.
“Not expecting us?” Kincaid asks. “We RSVP’d.”
“This is so embarrassing,” I say, twisting from Erik’s arms. “But we have a previous engagement.”
“Yes? That is a pity,” Kincaid says, snapping the fingers of his gloves and removing each in delicate order.
Approaching footsteps—many, many footsteps—draw my attention away. Even Kincaid turns, but his face doesn’t fall when he sees Cormac Patton approaching. My own sags in frustration. We’re seriously outnumbered.
“I’ve tried to help her with her manners,” Cormac’s voice calls above the wind. He crunches across the pavement, a small army in tow. “But she’s resistant to change.”
“I like that,” I say to him, pushing against the roar of my pulse in my ears. It’s been nearly two months since I faced Cormac, years for him. “I’m ‘resistant to change.’ I think that’s a compliment coming from a would-be immortal.”
>
“Would-be?” Cormac cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t undersell me.”
“I’ll leave that up to you,” I assure him. “And, might I say, Cormac, that you haven’t aged a day.”
Cormac’s smirk deepens. “I’m glad we don’t have secrets anymore. Now you know what I can offer you. Erik,” he says, turning his attention to him, “I guess I know why you didn’t come back. It’s impolite to go after your boss’s wife.”
“Adelice isn’t your wife,” Erik says, stepping closer to me.
“She will be,” Cormac says. “You were supposed to watch her, not help her escape.”
“What’s he talking about?” Jost demands.
“You know how adept your brother is at keeping secrets, Jost. I suppose he never told you—” Dante begins.
“I see where she gets her smart tongue from,” Cormac butts in. “Don’t look so surprised, Adelice. Valery has kept us well informed of the many sordid developments from the surface.”
“That was low, you old dog,” Kincaid says, wagging a finger at Cormac. “You knew she was my style.”
“It takes an old dog to know one,” Cormac says. “And you know we can’t be taught new tricks.”
The exchange is cordial, even amused, like old friends bantering.
“That’s it!” I yell, stamping my foot. “Don’t you want to kill each other?” Because I wouldn’t mind killing both of them.
“Of course,” Cormac says.
“But we can be gentlemanly about it,” Kincaid says.
I storm forward against the protests of Erik.
“You hate him,” I say, pointing from Kincaid to Cormac, “and I assume he hates you. Why the charade?”
“I don’t hate him,” Cormac says. “I pity him.”
Kincaid makes a choking noise and flips his gloves in his hands. “I don’t need your pity, Cormac. I’ve found the Whorl. The girl has done her part and extricated him, and now your blessed world will unravel into the universe. My only regret is that you won’t be there to fade into the stars with it. But you can watch. Imagine everything you worked for, lied for, killed for—gone.”
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