by Lanie Bross
Their touch was insubstantial but strong, steady. Like a wind lifting her to her feet. They drove her forward, half carrying her into the dark crevice in the cliffs that would take her to Rhys’s home. It was cooler inside the rocks. Miranda breathed a little easier, though she could not have stood on her own. She was so close to the end now.
At last they reached Rhys’s home. Miranda saw the cage, empty, where Rhys had kept Mags, the crow that had served as his eyes. And the bed, also empty.
She would lie where he had lain. She would die there, pretending she was in his arms, until the fire consumed her.
The Figments edged closer to the bed, as if they could protect her from the oncoming flames. Miranda reached over and slid her hand across Rhys’s pillow, as if they would be touching even in death.
Soon the flames were eating away at the rocks around her, bright orange and red fingers grabbing and turning substance to smoke, to nothingness. They were beautiful, the colors that blazed at the end of the world.
The cliff peeled away, shriveling into ribbons of flame, leaving a gaping hole directly in front of her. Smoke swirled and grew darker, growing so black that it appeared to be one solid mass moving down the cliffs. The fire hissed and sizzled.
And began to retreat.
That was when Miranda realized that the dark blanket rolling down the cliffs was not smoke but Figments. They were throwing themselves down the cliffs, at the fire. Thousands and thousands of them, a flood, a torrent.
Then Miranda understood.
The world would not fall apart under the flames. The Figments had sacrificed themselves to the fire.
Miranda gave in, at last, to the dark.
The fire had reached the tunnels now. Smoke stung Luc’s eyes. If he didn’t hurry, he’d suffocate before he could find a way out.
Every few seconds, the entire tunnel shuddered, as if inhaling a trembling breath.
Rhys had said once that the universe was alive.
What if time flowed like blood, pumped through the veins of the tunnels? Maybe the key was to turn it around, force it to physically flow backward. But how? He had done so much damage already, and though he had patched and reconnected the wires he had hacked through so carelessly in anger, he could feel the tunnels trying to expel him, to push him out.
Sparks leapt above him. They seemed to be going in every direction at once. How would he know which way was back and which was forward?
He scanned the tunnels again, examining every visible curve. Then something hard slammed into him from behind and he flew forward. He spun around and tried to back away, but she shoved her foot into his chest and he stumbled backward again.
“What the hell are you doing?” he gasped.
There was a cut along Tess’s cheek and she looked wilder than he remembered. Out of control—like Miranda.
“Look what you’ve done!” she said. Her voice was a wild howl of grief. “You’ve ruined everything!”
Luc staggered, feeling the tender spot on his ribs where she had kicked him. “I’m trying to put everything back the way it should be.”
Tess’s eyes flashed. “Didn’t Rhys tell you? Everything is connected, Luc. You can’t change one thing without changing everything. And your stupidity has put the whole universe in danger. I should have stopped you sooner, but Miranda interfered. There’s no one to help you now.”
Tess picked him up and threw him against the wall of the tunnel. He dropped the kitchen knife. The wall immediately began pulling at him, sucking him through the thick blackness.
“No. No!” he shouted, tugging at the clinging membrane of the tunnel wall that stuck to him like tar. Tess slammed into him again, propelling them both through the wall and back into the Crossroad. Immediately, Luc smelled smoke, and remembered that the Crossroad was still burning. He could feel the extreme heat choking him. He watched in horror as the hole in the membrane closed in on itself, sealing off the tunnels once more.
Suddenly, he and Tess were no longer whirling through the Crossroad but falling, falling, for what seemed like forever. It hit him that they’d fallen into another world. And with the clanging of metal all around and sparks flying everywhere, he realized they’d ended up in a familiar place: Kinesthesia.
Luc had landed on top of Tess, and for a moment she simply disappeared, her body shuddering into nothingness as though in response to the impact. He gasped.
Just as quickly, Luc got up and began to run through the gridlike mechanical world, even as Tess began to reform herself: hair, legs, arms weaving together like a TV image coming slowly into focus.
He dodged the showers of white sparks erupting from enormous gears that grated together. He remembered what Corinthe had told him: how this was where the logic of the universe originated, the order and the time. A world laid out across a massive metal grid, hovering over an endless abyss. Only the steel grates beneath his feet kept him from plunging into the infinite nothingness below, and Luc could see gaps where the floor had already collapsed.
The fires from the Crossroad had reached this world as well. Horrified, Luc saw what Tess meant when she said he had endangered everything. Enormous gears grated and scraped with horrendous screeching sounds. Some of them stuttered and slipped before catching.
Corinthe had said Kinesthesia housed the heartbeat of the universe. If that was true, Luc knew the heart was on the verge of death.
Was that why the Crossroad had pushed him out here, to the center of everything in the universe? So he would witness what he had done?
Luc ducked behind a huge piston that pumped up and down with slow, rhythmic movements. His shirt stuck to his chest. Where was Tess? There was too much motion, too much sound. He couldn’t see her. She could be anywhere. He knew he couldn’t have left her behind. She was too fast.
The only way he knew out of this place was the door in the clock tower. Even from here, he could see it: the clock tower pointed to the sky like an accusatory finger. But the way he’d crossed the last time was blocked off. The narrow catwalk was made of rectangular metal grating: the two-by-six-foot sections soldered together formed a bridge that extended over the abyss, but it looked unstable.
He ventured out onto it. Still he didn’t see Tess. But she must be nearby. He knew she was. He inched farther down the catwalk, hoping to make it across.
“Stay where you are!” Tess’s voice rang out behind him.
He spun around. Tess had materialized, and she had her knife out now. She advanced on him purposefully. Luc backed up until he was balanced on the edge of the catwalk. White sparks spit below him. And beneath that: an endless fall.
Luc held out his hands. “Wait,” he said. His throat was dry. He needed to stall until he could figure out an advantage. “Just wait. I thought we were on the same side.”
Tess shook her head. “I’m on nobody’s side,” she said. “You’re fighting the will of the Unseen Ones, but they will win. They always win. Fighting them will just bring destruction—for you, for me, for everyone.”
“What about Rhys?” Luc said desperately. “He trusted you. Now you betray him by siding with the enemy?”
“Rhys is dead—as is Mira. None of the old alliances matter anymore. Survival matters, and we must maintain the balance.” She lunged at him then, and he sidestepped, but not fast enough.
Luc slammed against the railing of the catwalk, and the narrow section of grating they stood upon shuddered. Luc barely kept his footing. The bridge would collapse and he needed to move forward to solid ground. He turned to run, but Tess grabbed his foot and yanked him backward. He stared down through the metal grate into the infinite abyss below Kinesthesia. Tess rolled Luc over and pinned him, lowering her knife to his neck.
The metal on the far end of the catwalk creaked and bent, causing the rectangular area to tilt suddenly. Tess’s weight shifted and she fell backward. Her knife fell to the side and she scrambled for it, causing the catwalk to tilt even farther. Luc could see that the soldered portion that stitc
hed the sections together would give soon. Sweat coated his face, matting his hair to his forehead.
If he could just kick it, would it be enough force to break it? He crouched low on the precarious walkway, looking over into the void.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tess asked, clutching her knife. “The Tribunal imprisoned a Radical here, in a lonely cell that hung just above the abyss. The Unseen Ones sentenced him, but he escaped to Humana. He had help. Somehow, someone brought him a key.”
“Why should I care about some Radical?”
“Because your sister is with him right now.” Tess took a step toward Luc and the walkway shifted with a groan. “And Ford is reckless. He has no alliances.”
Ford.
The same name that Corinthe had mentioned in some future reality.
Ford had taken Jasmine.
A sick feeling grew in Luc’s throat. That was why Jasmine wasn’t in the future he’d found. Because this Ford Radical had killed her. Luc had to get back to San Francisco, had to warn Jasmine to stay away from him.
“Your sister’s blood will spill in the Great Gardens.” The gleam was back in Tess’s eyes.
“So that’s the plan?” he asked, shaking with rage. “The Unseen Ones decide that he kills Jasmine and you kill me?”
“No, they want to imprison you,” she said. “I want to kill you.”
“Why?” Blood was pounding in his ears. He eyed the weak soldered metal—so close to snapping. One chance. One chance was all he would get. “Why does it matter so much to you that I die?”
“Because I need you out of the way, and because I know you won’t stop. You’re obsessed with turning back time—for what?”
“For Corinthe,” he said.
“Corinthe,” she scoffed. “Everyone thinks that love solves everything, that love conquers all. What good has it done for you and Corinthe?” Tess almost sounded angry. “Or for Mira and Rhys? Or for your sister? It brings nothing but pain.”
“What are you talking about?” Luc wheezed.
Tess took another step toward him and the walkway shifted. She clutched the knife in her hand even tighter.
“All of you have ended up the same. Even the Figments are gone. They sacrificed themselves to the fire. For what? For love?”
Shock echoed through his muddled head. Luc remembered the pairing, remembered how happy the Figures and Figments had been while dancing together. They were One, and now the Figments were gone?
Rhys had said that they all were lonely, that they sought out their Others, but it was more than that. What they were all looking for was simple. They were looking for love.
Just like he was.
Luc wound his fingers through the grating and kicked at the metal seam that held it in place. His sneakers made contact with the bent steel, and the bridge tore apart with a loud groan.
Tess tried desperately to find a handhold, anything to grab. Her eyes were full of panic. The knife fell from her hand, and she grasped at air as the walkway collapsed from under her. She was sent free-falling into the abyss.
Luc held on to the grate as it swung like a pendulum; then he climbed up to safety.
He continued to hear Tess’s screams echo long after her body had disappeared below.
“Jasmine, wait!”
Ford’s frantic voice thundered in her ears. She ran faster, her feet pounding on the pavement. A morning jogger swerved into her path and Jasmine had to jump off the curb to avoid running into her. Instead of following the sidewalk, she cut across the street and past a dump truck that sat idling near the intersection.
It was Tuesday. That meant that most of the earthquake damage had already been cleared. California was fast like that. But there were still several buildings with boarded-up windows where the glass had shattered. A thin fog hung over everything—maybe she could lose Ford. Jas could taste salt on her lips. She was running up Baker Street, and her heart felt like it would explode.
Just ahead, at the top of the hill, she saw a metro bus pull up to the stop. If she could make it on, Ford wouldn’t be able to catch her.
She needed time. Time to think, to try to figure out what the hell to do now. If she could just talk to Luc, get him to tell her what had happened Friday night and explain who Miranda was, then maybe she’d know who to trust.
The bus doors opened with a whoosh and Jasmine lunged inside, panting. She fumbled for a crumpled dollar bill in her back pocket. As she collapsed into the closest seat, she saw Ford crest the hill and stop. He scanned the road, then spotted the bus, but it was too late. It had started to pull away from the curb. Jas expected Ford to run after them, to make the bus stop, but he just stood there watching.
He looked devastated.
Jasmine tried to reconcile the boy standing there, the one who had kissed her so gently, with this one, the one who had considered taking her back to the Garden.
Would he do that? After everything he had said to her?
Tears burned her eyes. How well did she really know him? Was that the nature of a Radical—to burn bright, at any cost? And why had Ford been imprisoned in the first place?
The questions only confused her more. She wanted to trust him, desperately, but she didn’t know what he’d be willing to trade for his freedom.
The bus swayed along Baker, halting at each stop, and every time, Jasmine held her breath, expecting Ford to push his way on and drag her off. By the time she got to Jackson, where she could catch another bus straight home, her nerves were stretched tighter than violin strings. The feeling didn’t ease up during the rest of the trip. It wasn’t until she got off a block from their building that she relaxed slightly. There was no sign of Ford.
Nonetheless, she hurried along the street and up the stairs to their apartment. Nothing felt safe anymore. Every sound made her jump. She turned down the hall to their apartment, then stopped. Someone was waiting in front of the door. Jasmine forced air through her tight throat. Not someone, Karen.
Of course.
It was Tuesday.
Again.
Karen spun around when she heard Jasmine’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh, hi,” she said. “I was … I was just looking for Luc.” She fidgeted with her purse. “I’ve been trying to call, but he won’t answer. I wanted to see if he was okay.”
Jasmine pushed past her. “He’s fine. He’s just sick. I’ll tell him you stopped by, okay?” She shoved her key into the lock and opened the door. Karen craned her neck to peek inside and Jasmine blocked the opening with her body. Luc never brought Karen to their place.
“Do you need a ride or anything?” Karen asked. “To school, I mean.”
“I’m not going today, but thanks,” Jasmine said. She was too tired to try to be nice. “I’m kind of sick, too.”
“Oh, okay.” Karen looked disappointed, but Jas didn’t have time to cheer her up. She smiled tightly, repeated her promise to tell Luc that Karen had stopped by, and closed and locked the door. Her gaze swept the room. Was anything different? Did it look like Luc had come back?
Her heart sank when she saw that everything was exactly as it had been. Even the worn afghan lay over their threadbare green couch, right where it was before.
Now what?
She started toward her room to get a change of clothes, then froze.
Something was different.
She tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed the longest knife out of the block on the counter. She was tired of running. As she moved down the hallway, there was an aroma in the air, like a dryer sheet that got too hot. It was not unfamiliar, but she couldn’t place it.
Not the Executors, but not like Ford, either.
God, was someone else after her now? Despair welled up inside her. She forced it back. She wouldn’t give up.
She could hear drawers being opened and closed. That really pissed her off. Someone was going through her stuff. She eased the door open with a foot, knife raised, poised to attack.
The person inside spun around.
&
nbsp; For a second, Jas thought she must be dreaming. “Luc?” she whispered.
“Jas!”
Luc’s voice was like oxygen to an air-starved brain.
Jasmine let the knife fall to the ground. She launched herself at her brother. “Luc! Where the hell have you been?” Tears streamed down her face and she buried her face in his neck. He squeezed her so hard, she couldn’t breathe for several long seconds. When he finally released her, she swiped her face with her shirtsleeve. She was laughing and crying at the same time. “I’ve been so goddamn worried,” she said. Then she smacked him on the arm. “Where were you?”
He gripped her shoulders with both hands. “I should have been honest from the start, Jas. I’m so sorry. I thought I was protecting you.” He shook his head. “Sit, okay? I need to tell you some things that are going to sound crazy.”
I doubt it, she thought. But she just sat down and folded her legs underneath her. The despair she’d felt only a few minutes ago had all but dissipated. Luc was here. Luc would help.
He was pacing the small room, pivoting every few feet. “It started Friday night, when you went to the Marina. Do you remember that?”
She nodded and gripped the bedspread between her fingers. Finally, she was going to get answers. “I went to dump T.J.,” she said. “I remember a black-haired woman. After that, it’s all blank.”
“Miranda,” Luc said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jasmine’s heart gave a thump. Somehow, she had expected this. “Miranda,” she repeated. So Jas had met Miranda. And Miranda had done something to her—something so that Jas wouldn’t remember. “Ford told me she might help us.…”
Luc’s face went white. “Where is he?”
“Y-y-you know Ford?” Jasmine stuttered.
Luc just shook his head, his mouth a thin line. “Where is he?”
Jasmine had seen that look on Luc’s face before. It was the look he got before he did something stupid—like trying to jump T.J. on a crowded street, or freaking out when a ref made a bad call. “I don’t know,” she said carefully. “I left him at the rotunda.”
