by Nick James
Or spy. That’s what Avery would have suggested. She was always a snoop, even when I didn’t see anything worth snooping for. But I’ve isolated myself too much to start sneaking around. They’re on the lookout for me now.
Which leaves me with my third option.
Leave.
I can’t do anything here, not the way they’ve got me cornered. The only other choice is the most dangerous of all. If I cross the Pacific, I’ll have the Unified Party and the Tribunal after me. I’ll be like Cassius—living by my wits, struggling to survive without capture. And I’m not Cassius.
I don’t get much time to consider it before I see red.
Not a vision this time. It’s the real thing. Faint light beams through the window of my cell, too muted to cause commotion in the main corridors. But in the darkness of the brig, everything shows up.
I jump to my feet and rush to the door, craning my neck to look between the bars. Eva and Skandar stand just beyond my cell carrying a dark bag between them. A circular lump hangs at the bottom, radiating through the cloth. It’s not as obvious as a green Pearl would be. People won’t be looking for red.
“I pulled my jacket over it,” Skandar whispers as he shows me the zipper of a coat he must have grabbed from his room. “It felt good.” He smiles. “Warm.”
My hands recoil at the thought of the heat I felt when I touched it. Boiling water. Lava.
“Leave it here.” I keep my eyes on the bag the entire time.
Eva approaches the bars. “You’re in a prison cell. We can’t exactly get in.”
“There’s an electronic key system at the front desk. I didn’t see anyone sitting there when Morse brought me in. The brig’s empty.”
She leans against the door, staring sideways. “It’s not a good idea breaking you out. You heard what Alkine said. We’re lucky we—”
“You won’t be breaking me out,” I interrupt. “Just open the door, toss the Pearl inside, and lock it again. He didn’t mention anything about that.”
Skandar grins. “Way to go. Loophole.”
Eva grabs his arm before he can head down the hallway. For a moment, she looks like she’s going to give me a lecture, but then her expression falls flat. “This doesn’t get traced back to us, okay?”
I nod. “Alkine won’t even know.”
She hoists the bag and releases Skandar. I watch him disappear around the corner and wait until I hear the bolt on my door unlatch.
Eva grips the bars. “Please don’t do anything stupid, Jesse.”
“Like you said, I’m in a prison cell. What could I possibly do?”
She closes her eyes, shaking her head.
“Hey.” I lean sideways against the door. “You don’t know anything that you’re not telling me, do you?”
The bolt clicks. I push on the door to open it a crack.
“Of course not,” she grabs the handle and yanks forward, tossing the bag through the opening. “I’m on your side, Jesse.”
I nod.
“Now promise.” She shuts the door. “Nothing stupid.”
I glance at the bag. Part of it has slipped below the Pearl, revealing a beam of red that hits the opposite wall.
“And don’t get yourself hurt,” she continues. “Remember how it felt when you touched it. There’s no snow in here to cool your hands if you get burned.”
“Got it,” I say. “Thank Skandar for me on the way out.”
She grits her teeth, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of leaving me alone. “Goodnight, Jesse.”
“Yeah.” I kneel next to the Pearl and get lost in the depths of crimson. “Goodnight.”
––––
I gaze into the Pearl so long, I lose track of time. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to sense it without looking. It’s like other Pearls in some ways. The pull’s there, a desire to scoop it into my arms and hold it close, but there’s something else too.
I get close to touching it a few times, hover right over the top with my fingers. I feel the heat radiate off the surface. But before long, I have to retreat for fear of getting burned.
I clench my fist and try to break it. I stomp on the ground, point my finger like a gun, speak to it. I do everything I can think of to get it to do something. But it never responds. I can’t pull it up or forward or sideways. I can’t make the slightest movement at all. It just sits there, taunting me.
Eventually, I cover the red light with the blackness of the bag and lean against the opposite wall, prepared to admit defeat and go to sleep.
And I do, for awhile.
I’m not sure how long I’m out, but when I wake I yelp, forcing my hands over my mouth even though there’s nobody around to hear me. I’m covered in sweat. My hair clings to my forehead. My shirt’s shellacked to my back. I roll up my sleeves and take shallow breaths. How did it get so hot in here?
And then I see it. A white dusting lines the floor. Snow, like on the coast.
My mind struggles to work it out. It feels like more than one hundred degrees in here, yet the snow stays crisp and solid. I swipe a section off the floor beside me. The flakes melt the instant they touch my warm hands.
The bag slips away from the Pearl.
I watch it move, impossibly, from the ball of red, as if the cloth has come alive, wriggling along the floor in retreat. Free from the dark material, the red Pearl pulses with an intense glow. Waves of heat push into me—concentrated blasts like scorching currents of Fringe air. Snow continues to pour from the other side onto the ground, collecting in piles. I shield my eyes from the light. There’s nothing I can do about the heat.
It’s in control, I realize. This isn’t like the rest of them, where I have the power. I can’t touch it. I can’t even get near.
My bracelet vibrates, forcing my wrist into my lap. I feel the tips of my fingers bake as the heat intensifies. The Pearl trembles, quivers back and forth. Then, without a sound, it rockets straight into the air.
I’m convinced it’s going to slam into the ceiling, but it stops midway and hangs in the center of the room like a red star. Whatever’s inside wants out.
The bracelet spins around my wrist, matching the heightened frequency in the room. I pull in my knees to make myself as small a target as possible. The Pearl energy fills the entire room now, radiating off walls, flipping on the overhead lights only to yank them off again. It’s a physical presence—a spirit set on pushing me away.
The heat fizzles, replaced by an arctic blast that hits me in the face with gale force. Particles of ice settle in my hair and along the ground—a snowstorm in the middle of the jail cell.
The Pearl explodes.
I shout as energy collides with my skin and envelops me. It’s not the bolstering feeling green Pearls give. This scratches all over my body like a thousand little insects biting me at once. My skin revolts. I’m convinced that I’m burning alive, though from heat or frost I can’t tell.
The cell door flies from its hinges and shoots into the hallway, leaving a chasm behind. The corridor fills with red. The outside wall bulges with the added force before bursting open. A gaping hole spreads across the metal. I see insulation, pipes, wires—inner workings of the ship before the view of the dark mountains outside is unencumbered. The blast has blown a hole straight through the side of the Skyship.
Fragments of dust and shrapnel swirl about the room, kicked up by the force of the explosion. Everything’s murky red. I can’t tell what’s happening around me.
Something tackles my side, so forceful it feels like a boulder after a mile-long build-up. I’m helpless to react.
Before I know it, I’m thrown into the air. Something grabs me. Arms, maybe. I can’t see anything but red energy, a blinding wall of light directly in front of my face. My skin screams.
We land on the ground. My ankle twists. I hardly notice it past the other agonies. I’m pushed against the floor like a dummy, then lifted up again.
The prison cell disappears altogether.
It ta
kes a moment to understand what I’m seeing. The air is cooler now, and cleaner.
I watch the side of the Academy pull away as we tumble through the sky. Whatever was inside that Pearl knocked me through the hole in the outside wall. There’s nothing to grab onto, even as invisible arms hold me tight.
Mountains swallow me on all sides. The Academy walls grow distant. We’re in freefall, half a mile straight to the ground.
I can’t see anything but Pearl energy in front of me. I feel like I’m floating in fire. I know there are mountains. I know the ground’s approaching fast. The air pushes on my back with so much force that I’m certain I’ll snap in two.
All the while, something holds me tight.
I watch as the energy begins to fade, sucked into the swirling wind on both sides of me. I expect it to disappear altogether and leave me falling like this, alone—a tiny kid lost inside the sky.
But the red glow warps into something else. A figure appears from the light, a dark silhouette against the stars.
Features begin to carve themselves into the ether and I suddenly realize how close we are. Face to face.
Arms stretch up around mine, connecting with hands that interlock below me, holding tight in what could either be an embrace or a stranglehold. Body definition, beneath an unadorned black shirt, gives the figure shape. Brown hair flies wildly around the face, whipped around by the wind as we plummet.
The face.
A mouth appears, grim and silent and inexpressive. Not concerned or worried at all. A nose, then wrinkles. Lines on the forehead, under the eyes.
Eyes. Pearl energy forms around them, swirling and crackling until it disappears altogether. The irises turn red, like two Pearls right in front of me.
The man doesn’t blink. He doesn’t open his mouth or move his face at all. For a moment I wonder if he’s dead, but he continues to stare at me, eyes locked onto mine as we tumble.
His grip tightens on my back. My own expression loses all composure. I must look more horrified and pathetic than ever, but if the man notices, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t scream or shout. His attention never strays.
In one fluid motion, he lays pressure on my right arm and flips me. We twist so that his back is to the ground. I watch the tundra grow closer and closer, a dark sheet of dirt and rock that will mark my last living moments.
We begin to slow. The wind calms as we defy gravity. The sky feels heavy. We crawl through it. I have a moment to tilt my head and watch the mountains. But I can’t see the Skyship. We’ve drifted too far away.
We fall, slower until it’s like we’re not moving at all. The man stares at me the entire time, wide-eyed and mute. Never blinking.
I consider speaking—screaming, even—but before I can make any sound at all, his fingers unlatch and he brings up his knees to prod me in the stomach. I fly in an arch over his head, rolling through the air until I hit the dirt and land hard on my chest.
It takes a moment before I’m able to compose myself. The breath flows back into my lungs. I push myself onto my hands and knees and cough. I’m covered in dirt. Tiny shards of rocks dig themselves into my skin.
As soon as I’m able, I stand and spin to see if the man is still there.
He is. Closer than I remembered.
He stands several yards from me, arms at his sides. Black shirt, black pants. Only his face is visible in the moonlight. From this distance, all I can see clearly are the eyes.
They pierce the darkness like twin beacons, reflective in the night like a cat’s.
And there’s something else—a loop of black metal attached to a chain around his neck. I wouldn’t notice it against the dark shirt, except that it shines with a glint of moonlight. It’s the only adornment on his simple clothing, and matches the sheen of my bracelet.
I back away, fearful of what he might do. But the fact is, at the last possible moment, he saved me.
I cough again, trying to find my voice. The man stands in silence and stares. Then, with the only whisper I have left, I clear my throat and speak. It’s probably a shot in the dark, but I have to try.
“D-dad?”
It comes out smaller than I mean it to. The wind snaps most of the sound away before it even reaches the guy. I try again.
“Dad?”
He blinks. Then, without a word, he turns and runs.
“Wait!” I follow the best I can, but he’s too fast. “Don’t run away!”
His legs pump like pistons along the barren terrain until he’s running with more velocity than a shuttle. I keel over in exhaustion and watch him. His silhouette shrinks as he escapes into the distance. Then, just as he’s about to disappear altogether, he crouches and jumps.
And flies.
I watch the man shoot into the sky like the blast of a cannon. A blink of an eye and he’s gone.
I collapse to my knees and stare at the stars, waiting for him to loop around and come back.
He doesn’t. Maybe he never will.
12
Cassius squirmed in the restraints. His left foot had itched for the last twenty minutes, right on the sole where he didn’t have a chance of scratching. Worse than that, he desperately wanted to reach behind and pull Madame’s device from his neck, but she was right. Even if he’d had control of his arms, he couldn’t feel a thing back there. No tingle or rawness from a scar. But he knew it was inside. That was enough.
Various Unified Party officials had been in throughout the day, spoon feeding him breakfast and lunch. The woman in the morning had been downright chatty, blabbering like he was her long lost grandson. The lunch guy— younger and less smiley—hadn’t said a word. Instead, he’d glared at Cassius through thick glasses as he ladled a stew into his lips.
He looked at the clock on the far wall. It had been over an hour since anyone had visited. The silence was becoming unbearable. His limbs stiffened. They’d started to cramp early in the morning. Now they were nearly numb. Numb would be better.
He longed to conjure the fire inside of him, to break free of the shackles and shake the stillness of the room. But, true to Madame’s word, his body remained unresponsive.
He tried not to think about mind control. Harnessing. She’d told him his mind would function fully, but impulses would steer him in directions he didn’t want to go. Madame’s impulses, his body. It was a dangerous combination.
It couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.
But Madame knew him too well. Without his power, he was as helpless as any other prisoner. The thick metal bands locked him in place. Strength didn’t matter. All the agility and combat skills in the world were useless to him now. There had to be another way.
The door cracked open. He balled his fingers into fists, expecting Madame. Instead, a brown haired kid—twelve or thirteen—crept into the room and shut the door carefully behind him. His messy hair stuck in a diagonal across his forehead, framing a youthful, dirt-specked face at odds with his intense, rattled eyes. Cassius had seen this kid before. Only once, but he remembered it clearly.
Last spring, a day before boarding Skyship Atlas in search of Fisher, Cassius had watched this boy leave Madame’s office. The thought of someone else having a direct line to her had bugged him then. It didn’t matter so much now, but seeing the kid evoked immediate anger. Bad memories.
As soon as the door was safely secured behind him, the boy’s shoulders relaxed. A ratty undershirt hung over his gaunt body. Cassius caught the glint of metal hanging from the back of his belt.
The kid took a step forward. A devilish smile spread over his face. “So you’re the legendary Cassius Stevenson? You don’t look like much.”
Cassius stared, unsure of what to say, or whether to say anything at all. The boy’s immaturity showed in the way he carried himself, bobbing around the room like he had too much energy for his body to contain. He could be a mirage—a vision of his half-conscious mind.
Cassius closed his eyes. When he opened them the boy was still there. He swallowed
, and found his tired voice. “What are you, the court jester?”
“Nah.” The boy continued to approach. “My name’s Theo. Theo Rayne. I guess we’re kinda brothers, in a way.”
Cassius grunted. “Great. Another one.”
Theo’s smile straightened, though the corners of his lips still curled slightly. “She’s always talking about you. I get sick of it sometimes. I mean, look at you, chained to the wall like a human sacrifice. What’s so great about that?”
Cassius’s eyelids drooped slightly as he fought to stay lucid. “You’re one of Madame’s kids, aren’t you? I saw you coming out of her office last spring.”
Theo’s shoulder twitched. “My real mom was gunned down before I could speak. So yeah, Madame’s the only mother I got.”
He sighed. A part of him knew this kid, everything he had thought and felt while growing up in the Lodge— everything Madame had told him, every stupid line she’d used to manipulate his behavior. In a different situation, he might try to convince the boy to leave while he still had a chance, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable at the moment. There were more important things on his mind. Chiefly: How can I exploit this kid to my advantage?
“She’s using you,” Cassius mumbled.
Theo smiled. “Sure is. Woman’s got a use for everything, doesn’t she? Definitely got a use for you. She’s always got a use for the great Cassius Stevenson.”
He chuckled. He hadn’t felt so great when Madame had abandoned him in Washington to capture Fisher, or when she’d let him destroy a train full of innocent passengers without even trying to clean up the mess.
Theo moved closer until Cassius could feel the kid’s breath on his neck. He paused for a moment, staring up at him with wild, dangerous eyes before turning abruptly and strolling to the far side of the room. Cassius noticed the glint of metal beside his back pocket again. A knife. How antiquated.
“Even after you go and get her killed,” Theo mumbled, talking to himself. “Took awhile to get her walking again, you know? The brick crushed her left tibialis.” He turned. “Do you know what a tibialis is? I’ve memorized every muscle in the human body. It’s good to know where to aim your bullets.”
