“And the other sectors?” I ask, ignoring Dante’s helpful advice.
“We will have several minutes in each sector before the coventries detect an anomaly,” Loricel says. “You must get word out before I start the next rebound.”
“We should go alone. Cover more territory,” Dante says.
“I can handle two of you at a time, but past that, things will get tricky.”
“I’ll go to the Western Coventry,” I volunteer. “Pryana will help me get the evacuations going, and I have to be sure that Amie gets out.”
“We need to focus on the population, not the coventries,” Dante argues.
“I’m not negotiating on this,” I tell him. “I need to make sure Amie gets out, and Pryana is Agenda. She can notify others.”
“Amie will be safe, Ad,” Jax says.
“If the evacuation measures are in place,” I say. “There are four of us. We can cover all the sectors and the Western Coventry, too.”
“Fine,” Dante relents. “Loricel, can you do it?”
“Absolutely,” Loricel says.
Dante nods, his eyes flicking to each of us as if to gauge our readiness.
“Then Falon will take the leader of the Southern Sector, Jax the Northern, and I’ll take the Western Sector, and then we’ll all meet in the Northern Ministry to deal with Cormac together.”
I nod, my pulse building to a frenzy. From this moment on we are on borrowed time, but before I can even consider how much danger we’re rebounding into, Erik appears.
“I hear you need disguises.”
TWENTY-THREE
I ALWAYS EXPECTED THAT HAVING MY FLESH altered would hurt, but other than an initial prickle across my nerves, I don’t feel much.
“How are you doing?” Erik asks me.
I don’t bother to look at him, because then I’ll see what he’s doing and I definitely don’t want to see.
“I’m great,” I say as enthusiastically as possible. “I’m still not sure what you’re doing, though.” I never mastered my Tailor abilities past basic alteration, and my work was overseen by Dante or Erik every time. This is well beyond the scope of my skill.
He snorts, but I’m telling him the truth—it doesn’t hurt. “Veiling creates an alternate pattern of information in a person’s personal identifying sequence. If you tried to go back in without it, it would only be seconds before a security alert was activated. One of the many unfortunate side effects of having total control over an artificial world is how easily anyone can be found.”
As a child this information made me feel safe. Now that I’m the person being hunted, I can see the problem with this setup.
“But one of the perks,” he adds, “is that what they see on the security looms can be manipulated.”
“And what they see in person?”
“That doesn’t change, and unfortunately, I don’t have time to alter your appearance. Not that I want to,” he adds.
“So this isn’t an actual disguise?”
“Only for the security looms.”
“Shoot,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “I was hoping to get rid of these freckles. I guess I’ll have to settle for some funny spectacles or a big hat.”
“I love those freckles.” Erik leans in and brushes a quick kiss over my bare shoulder, straightening up again when Jax turns back toward us.
“How long does veiling buy us?” I ask.
“Depends.” Jax sounds skittish and when I look at him, his skin is gray. It could be the lighting, but I tend to think he’s actually getting sick.
“You okay?”
He gestures to my arm, and without thinking I look down at it. Erik’s fingers are in my flesh. There’s surprisingly little blood, but I suppose there’s not been much blood any of the times I’ve witnessed alteration. Still, it’s unsettling to see his fingers inside my arm, with my skin draped open like loose fabric.
“That’s appetizing,” I say.
“To answer your question,” Jax says, tapping his foot in a nervous beat on the floor, “when we enter, we won’t be flagged automatically because of the veil over our personal identifying sequence. But eventually they’ll realize that there are unidentified sequences in the patterns of the sectors.”
Dante reappears, chewing on some rations. I don’t know how he can eat. “That’s why we need to get in and out of the other sectors and then into the Cypress offices before they catch on,” Dante says.
“We could have minutes or hours,” Jax says with a shrug.
“I will be moving you within five minutes of the first rebound,” Loricel informs us.
“That won’t be enough time! What if we can’t find anyone?” I ask.
“We don’t have long before the destruction of the Eastern Sector,” she reminds me. “I can work quickly, but I won’t have a place to work for much longer.”
“Wait. If you’re staying here,” I say slowly, piecing together what she’s telling me, “then you won’t make it out.”
“Probably not,” she says, but she doesn’t seem upset.
“You’ll die.”
“I know that,” Loricel says. “Don’t be sad for me, Adelice. I’ve had more than enough time to come to grips with the inevitability of my death. Too long, actually.”
“But…” I know she’s right, but the thought of Loricel staying here to die while helping us escape makes me sick.
“I won’t be alone,” she says softly.
“Who?” I ask.
But then I spot Albert lingering in the corner behind her. She winks at me and I have to suppress a laugh. I’m still sad, but if the two wisest people I know want this to happen, then I have to believe they’re right.
“What happens when we get in there?” I ask Jax.
“Once we breach the Ministry in Cypress, I’ll access the system and begin Protocol Three.”
“But what about the pass code?” I ask.
“You get Cormac to fess up,” Falon says, folding her arms over her chest. She clearly doesn’t think I can do it, which makes me want to hand deliver it to her.
“Once the protocol has been initiated, the system will begin the self-destruct process as soon as Cormac says the pass code,” Jax says.
“I only have to get him to say it?” I say. “That shouldn’t be … too hard.”
“Yes, but he has to be the one to say it. It’s voice-encoded,” Dante says. “It won’t work unless it’s him saying it.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. It won’t be as simple as raiding his office if Cormac fails to comply. “What if he’s not there?”
Dante exhales heavily. “We have to assume he is. He gave the order to destroy this sector from his office.”
“I don’t like the idea of Adelice running around risking her life if we aren’t sure Cormac is there,” Erik says. He’s finished with my arm and he squeezes my hand before he starts on Jax.
“It’s a suicide mission any way we go about it,” Falon says. She sounds like this barely bothers her. “You two need to say goodbye now.”
I know I’ll probably never see Erik again. I know I’ll probably die today, but I don’t need Falon to point that out at this moment.
“Falon,” Dante says in a low voice. It’s meant to be a warning but she rolls her eyes.
“What good does it do to lie to them or give them false hope? Let them have a minute alone.”
“There’s no time for that,” he says.
“There’s never any time for that,” she says. She turns on her heel and walks out of the room and that’s when I realize what’s bothering her. She isn’t as doom-and-gloom as she pretends to be. She’s angry with Dante, because it’s too late for them. They’ve spent too long fighting instead of taking a moment to be together.
“You know,” I whisper to Dante, “she’s in love with you.”
“Falon?”
“You didn’t realize that?” Erik asks.
“I don’t assume everyone is in love with me,” Dante retorts, bu
t his eyes dart toward the door.
“Go on, idiot,” I say, and Dante rushes out of the room.
We have minutes left to live a lifetime. We should make every second count.
TWENTY-FOUR
WE HAVE TO LEAVE TO MAKE THE rebound into the various sectors as quickly as possible, but Erik catches my arm and pulls me into a dark hallway, away from the people rushing to make the final arrangements.
“I have to go and get these people out of this sector before Cormac terminates it,” he says.
There are tears pooling in my eyes, but I blink them away.
“This is not goodbye, Ad.” He cradles my chin and forces me to look him in the eyes.
“You don’t know that,” I say.
This was a possibility. But now that we’re facing it I can’t quite catch my breath. The more I look at Erik, the more scared I become. What are the chances that we’ll both come back from this? I only got him back yesterday and now I’m losing him again.
I run my fingers along the faint scar where he applied my veil. “‘Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,’” I murmur faintly, recalling his favorite sonnet. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he says with a smile, “‘even to the edge of doom.’”
He kisses me goodbye then and I melt into him, wishing for one more night or even a few minutes more, but it’s over before it begins.
An uncomfortable cough startles us apart and we look up to see Jost standing in the shadows, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says.
“We were … done,” Erik says, dropping his hands from me.
“Stop that,” Jost says.
“What?” Erik and I ask at the same time.
“Pretending like you aren’t in love,” he says. “It doesn’t bother me.”
How can that be possible when it bothers Erik and me so much?
“I’m sorry,” Erik says.
“Don’t be. Love is one thing no one should ever be angry over,” he says. “And without you two I wouldn’t have Sebrina now. Thank you for that.”
Embarrassed, I murmur, “You’re welcome.”
“You don’t have to thank us,” Erik says with a shake of his head. “You would have done the same for either of us.” I realize he’s right. Somehow, in the insanity of our time together, I managed to find a family, crazy and mixed up as it is. This is my family.
“I need you to promise me something.” Jost pauses, searching for the right words. “If anything happens to me, please take care of Sebrina.”
“You don’t have to ask that—” I begin.
“No, I do. Not because I don’t trust you, but because I need to know that if anything happens to me, Sebrina will be safe with you.”
“You’re coming back,” Erik says in a firm voice. “That little girl won’t lose another father. I swear on my own life.”
“I see you’re going to be a protective uncle.” Jost’s voice breaks as he speaks. He tries to cover it with a laugh.
“You’re our family,” I say, and Erik’s arm slides around my waist. “She’s our family, too.”
Jost gives me a genuine smile this time. Not the wicked grin he shares with his brother. This smile is warm and full of hope and it goes all the way to his eyes.
“Come here,” Erik says, waving his brother toward us.
He wraps an arm around each of us and we embrace, knowing this is probably the last time we’ll ever do so. I only know one thing: one of us has to survive for Sebrina.
“If I don’t make it—” I begin, but Erik shushes me. He seems incapable of accepting this possibility.
“No, please listen,” I continue. “Find Amie. She can take care of herself, but she’ll have questions. I need her to know why I did what I did.”
“She knows you’re a good person,” Erik says.
“Am I?” I ask.
“Yes,” both Erik and Jost say at the same time, and for the first time in a long time I believe it.
One of us has to live. To tell our story. To write it down. We’re the closest to the action of this tragedy—if it’s even a tragedy. I don’t think it is anymore. I think it’s a story of hope, unlikely as I once thought that was.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jost says, pushing Erik’s arm toward me.
But before we can linger in our goodbye, Dante appears, yelling for us to get going.
In the end, no more words pass between Erik and me. There is no final kiss. Only a look, worth more than any whispered farewell.
* * *
Loricel has set up in the makeshift rebound room they brought me through when I arrived. There’s a wide loom in front of her, larger than most I saw at the Coventry, including her personal loom in the high tower. It sits empty and I wish I could see the weave of Arras one more time, before it’s too late. I know it’s too dangerous to pull it up before we go, but there’s an ache building slowly in me at the thought of never touching the precise, wondrous strands on a loom again.
“How are you going to do this?” I ask her, staring at the instrument panel.
“It will be like when you rebounded through the various stations,” she says, adjusting gears in preparation.
“But that took an hour.”
“Because less talented people were at the looms and they had to wait for bureaucrats to tell them it was okay to start the process. Then, they were watched the whole time—”
“Okay.” I surrender. “I get it.”
“You’re in good hands,” she says.
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this,” I say.
“That’s a shame,” Loricel says. “You must learn to open your heart again, Adelice.”
I think of Erik and Jost. I think of the little girl who might be dependent on me one day, and of my own sister. “I do trust people,” I say.
“I made you believe once that love is a liability.” Her eyes flicker to Albert.
“It is,” I say softly. I feel like half of myself is outside this room, going off on a dangerous mission I can’t control. I don’t allow myself to think about it for long because the tears creep up my throat, shredding my will to do this. But even as the fear grows in me, there is certainty. This is the right thing to do. Erik and I both know that. We wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if we didn’t try.
“Perhaps,” she says, “but love also gives us the strength that we never knew we had.”
“I’m glad you’ll be together,” I tell her, looking over at Albert. “I wish you had longer.”
“Who can count the minutes she spends with the person she loves and not feel lucky?” she asks.
It’s easier to say that, knowing she’ll be with her love at the very end. Erik and I … I don’t want to think about. “I want one more minute.”
“You have it,” she says firmly.
“How can you know that?” I ask.
“I know,” she says. “Look closely.”
Before I can ask her what this means, Albert’s hand settles on my shoulder. “A final word?”
I nod, eyes stinging from the goodbyes. He leads me to a quiet corner and waits for me to speak. “I still have questions.”
“And we have run out of time for answers. That is a sad fact about life, Miss Lewys. If you’ll pardon the double entendre, not everything can be tied up in a neat bow.” His soft eyes sink under the weight of his years.
“Why does everyone believe I’m the Whorl?” I ask. “Because I can weave and alter?”
“It’s not your skills that make you special, it’s that you chose to fight. The Kairos Agenda called you the Whorl because they needed someone to believe in. All rebellions have men of words, few have men of action,” he says as his lips curve into a small smile.
“But they believe I was destined for this.”
“You know better,” he says. “We make our own destinies. Never forget that.” My mouth opens, but the questions die o
n my lips, because I’m pulled away from him and into the chair we’re using for the rebound.
This is unlike the other rebounds I’ve experienced. This time the bottom drops out from under me and the room shifts so quickly that my stomach flips, as though I’m falling. My hands fly to my sides as if my body is out of balance. They meet only with air. The world around me is a riot of color and sound. A clash of metallic strings shrieks through the space about me as though time is moving too quickly, throwing reality out of joint.
And then I find myself in the vermilion corridor of the high tower where I once lived. I race forward and knock on a door. No one answers and I rush to the stairs. I don’t have time to wait for the ancient brass elevator.
I burst through the exit on the next floor and into the lounge of the high tower. I skid on its marble floors, nearly tripping over a leather wingback. At the same moment, the elevator doors ding and slide open to reveal Pryana. Her eyes widen at the sight of me.
“Adelice?”
“Where’s Amie?” I pant the question.
“In her room. It’s in the lower tower,” she says. “I can take you there.”
“There’s no time!” I cry. “You have to initiate evacuation procedures. Contact the Agenda. Everyone needs to get out of Arras now!”
“What?” Pryana asks.
“You have to get the citizens out and to the surface,” I say, “or everyone will die. Please. You have to get Amie out.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “I don’t understand. I haven’t received any intelligence that Cormac is taking action.”
This stops me cold. If the information had filtered to Alix, how hadn’t it reached other members of the Agenda?
“Adelice, who told you—” She cuts off as a figure sweeps into the room.
The woman’s eyes widen even as her mouth curls to reveal a toothy smile. Another Spinster might be surprised to see me, but Maela only looks delighted.
“As I suspected.” She speaks in a low hiss, her words full of the venom she’s stored up toward us.
I step forward, my fingers tingling at my side, as I plan my next move. All of Maela’s weaknesses are psychological. I don’t have to raise a hand to her when I can destroy her with a word. But before I can find the correct one, my body trembles and my stomach drops. Loricel is moving me again.
Unraveled Page 18
