Alex fiddled with her hair.
“That’s how you knew about Syrus Raive? I knew it. I didn’t think Westfall would tell you something like that.”
Alex read the letter. Spirits already hate you, thinking you are her. The gifted will hate you when they realize you really aren’t her.
“Jonas is right though,” Alex whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We burn that stupid letter. And we keep our mouths shut.”
For goodness sake, the Havilah tree outshined the others in the Legacy Room. She found it hard to believe that no one had ever found Raive’s name.
“How could you not tell me? You lied to me.” His blue eyes cut the space between them, daggering the note in her fist.
She hadn’t lied. She just hadn’t shared.
“And what the hell is he doing out there? Who is this group sending him on missions? Did he not learn his lesson last time?”
Alex didn’t respond to his questions. He looked homicidal, marching around her room.
“Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Deer in the headlights. Someone has to worry about you because evidently you don’t.”
She pushed her way into his mind. It was a deep, ugly red of anger and jealousy. The lights on the wall next to her brightened and whined. She stood up and bolted from the room before Chase’s fury took shape and burst the bulbs or ignited the carpet. Feelings were contagious; they both knew that.
Alex flew down the ramp and out into the fresh air, hoping the mood of the town would ease Chase’s anger. She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the sunstones lining the roads through all of Eidolon. They glimmered like diamonds, but their decorations ranged from holiday lights, to flowers, to carvings, to snow. Freestanding sconces hovered above their heads, glowing white and angelic.
“Where is he?” Chase asked. “Did he say?”
“You know as much as I do,” Alex replied, skirting around a replica of the earth fading in and out of darkness. “The only information I have is what was written in that note. He didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already heard.”
Chase caught up to her, huffing and puffing, his breath visible and red in the evening air. Anger never had trouble taking form.
“You don’t need to breathe, you know.”
“I’m really not focusing on that right now. Jonas is so damn selfish. He knows his brothers are worried about him even after the stunt he pulled last year. I always held my tongue when Kaleb would talk about how Jonas would do anything, step on anyone if it meant he could be boosted a little bit higher. I thought Jonas would come through in the end, but he didn’t. He made a fool of me last year not because he attacked me but because he attacked you, and I didn’t even see it coming. I don’t know whether Jonas ever loved me, or Kaleb, or Gabe, or you. He put you on a silver platter so he could step on you on his way up. Kaleb was right from the start.”
Alex wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the night air. She kept moving because that was all she could think to do, turning down a new lane, one she’d never seen before. A glowing semicircle of stairs ascended up into nothingness, so she chose to go straight. She didn’t feel like entering the unexpected right now.
“I’m sorry, Chase.”
“Don’t you be sorry,” he barked, pushing ahead of her to open a curtain strung with tiny suns. As he stood under the archway, holding the curtain, he seemed to remember himself, and his fury softened.
“Don’t be sorry,” he repeated, gently this time. He followed her through the light of the suns. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at my ass of a brother. It’s not your fault.”
It was her fault. She was somehow the product of two extremely dangerous spirits. She wondered where they might try to categorize her now. They could test her, prod her, to see if she related more to Raive or Sephi. She never imagined things could get worse once she found answers. No wonder Rae chose to keep moving, bouncing from place to place. The Broderick officials would never be able to use Rae, or even find her.
What would happen when everyone found out about Syrus Raive? Her adoring fans would turn into a lynch mob. Finally, the people would agree on one thing. Both sides could rally around their hatred for her.
There was her purpose. To be the sacrificial lamb who brought everyone together.
***
Skye leaned out the window of the Broderick Square museum, resting her forearms on the wrought iron railing and frowning at the congestion on the streets below. She’d taken her time wandering through the exhibits, searching for meaning in sculptures and paintings, absorbing the magic of the artists. She didn’t feel different here. She didn’t feel like she had something to hide. Every object in this building had a purpose, and that was to speak to the people in some way. For once, she wasn’t the only one who could understand an inanimate object.
Her gift made her nervous. Her gifted-loving relative with the pink streak of hair made her nervous, too. Both things connected her to a group of people this town hated. She would much rather dance around campus and flirt with boys and play dumb. That way, no one would know she was different than the average Gossamer.
She’d spent too much time in the museum. The atmosphere outside had shifted. Spirits in Broderick Square moved too quickly, especially on such a perfect day, one which was supposed to be restful. The piney holiday aroma had been punctured by this frolic and began to burn.
She couldn’t exit back through the building because she knew the art would distract her. Time died in this museum; she wouldn’t come out until tomorrow. Reluctantly, she blinked and imagined herself on the street below. She fell into the stream of moving spirits.
She caught a glimpse of Alex and Chase but ducked away. She was fond of both of them, but that didn’t make it easy to be around them. When they kissed, she found herself staring, enthralled by the raw emotion. Even in a large group, she felt like an interruption. Like a third wheel. Skye wasn’t used to this feeling. She was a Gossamer, a bragging right which she flaunted proudly.
Charismatic and amiable, Gossamers got what they wanted. She felt such happiness and acceptance the first time she saw the family tree in the Legacy Room. She was important here, genetically spirited. There was power in numbers. Skye had everything here in death, but Alex and Chase made her feel like she was missing something.
She hadn’t decided if her ability was a gift or a curse, but she knew she didn’t trust it. Everything she touched was eager to share its experiences with her. Trees. Animals. Books. Even evil, bitter letterboxes. Could they lie as easily as a human?
She should have told Alex—or at least Duvall—what the box showed her. She was still haunted by the maniacal face of the man she witnessed murdering Sephi. The box had to have been there to see the whole thing because it remembered the crime clearly.
She wished she could ask one of her relatives if they ever experienced similar powers, but very few lived within the city. She didn’t dare ask that pink-streaked leach. All Skye had to do was touch Little’s hand one time to see that she’d lived a picture-perfect life. In flashes, Skye was forced to witness a movie reel of adoring parents, beaches, birthday parties, and cruises. This girl had lived the life Skye wanted, and Skye wanted nothing to do with feelings of inadequacy!
Even the florist was now out in the street. Skye tucked the bouquet under her arm: Forget-Me-Nots for Rae, and shoved her hand into her pocket, extracting the catnip seeds she’d purchased. It could be the protective effects of the catnip kicking in, but something unsettling traveled its way up to her head. Everything became blurry like watching the world through the wings of a hummingbird. It made her dizzy, and she rested her palm on the nearest lamppost to keep herself from falling.
The lamppost shocked her with a memory. “Witch!” it screamed to her.
She gasped.
“Witch!” It repeated.
She snatched
her hand away from the lamppost. Witch. The lamppost wasn’t the only one saying it. The word was everywhere. Skye dropped the catnip and flowers and her vision stopped trembling.
She massaged her temples. The image of an electric-haired girl flashed into her mind. Where did the memory come from? She wasn’t touching anything. Except her own head.
Whoever the mystery girl was, she was in the city. Skye placed her hands on the windows of the shops; windows saw much more than doors. No images appeared, just the word over and over. Witch. It whistled throughout the air, piercing her ears. A slur. And Skye realized it was an actual whistle and it was coming from the Brigitta campus. It was an alarm, calling all the newburies back home. No wonder there was fear in the air.
She gathered her things and readied herself to run back to campus but spotted Rae. The child stood amid the chaos like a statue, unaffected. She had one arm on her hip while the other arm she twisted around Alex’s leg. To an outsider, it would appear as though Rae was holding Alex for protection when Skye knew it was the other way around.
Chase stood opposite Alex, holding her as though she might take flight. As Skye made her way through the crowd to get to them, a large figure swooped in to beat her there. Ardor Westfall was moving with the crowd in the opposite direction, but she heard him bark at Chase.
“Take Alex back to Brigitta now. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“What is going on?” Chase asked, as Skye stepped in next to Rae and handed over the bouquet. They shared a look of understanding.
“The gifted are in Eidolon.”
“The bodied can’t get through the gate,” Alex argued.
Westfall shook his head and tapped his temple.
Skye handed some of the catnip to Rae. “In their heads?”
The travelers rushed around in different directions, bumping them.
“I’m sure she,” he paused, “or they love that they’ve caused panic.”
“I won’t leave her,” Chase obeyed. The determination in his face made Skye red with jealousy.
And as if Rae read her thoughts, she let go of Alex and tucked her small hand within Skye’s. Skye didn’t realize what would happen, but she was filled with images.
The meadow behind the fields.
Daisies.
Traveling through something bright and scorching.
A girl. With black hair and glowing eyes. And again, the realization struck her that this wasn’t the first time she’d seen this face. She saw her own hand brushing against the grandmother Forget-me tree with her crackling, gray bark.
Rae had seen the gifted, too. The day they found her by the gates Skye had forgotten. Rae had given the memory back to her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alex never saw so many newburies gathered in the vestibule at one time, and the room didn’t like it because the walls turned puke green. She never saw litter either, but she kicked away pencils, papers, and even pieces of rock. Brigitta Hall was losing its cool; the blue flames trapped under the floor whipped and lashed more violently than usual.
Romey sat crisscross on the spout of the fountain, overlooking her children. Her hair stood on end as she searched the crowd for something or someone. When she spotted Alex, the creases in her forehead smoothed. She stretched an arm high above her head and used a finger to pull down a string of data. She typed into the air and then sent the message upward. Alex felt a tightening around her shoulders; she was swaddled in ribbons of warmth.
A group of girls positioned themselves next to Kaleb. Alex could smell their fumes of leather handbags and lust. Skye clucked her tongue as Little Gossamer leaned on her palm, glancing at Kaleb, even during such pandemonium. His attention wasn’t on her though.
“Come on, Pax,” said Kaleb. “You’re the Interactions girl. What’s going on with the gifted?”
Pax wiggled her bumpy nose. “You act like I’m employed by the government. I’m a newbury, like you.”
“No, you’re not.” Kaleb elbowed her in the side. “You’re special! You’re Pax Simone!”
Pax curled her lips under her teeth to try to hide how pleased she was.
“It’s only us.” Kaleb motioned at their small group.
“My family will have my neck if I talk.”
“You’re dead. You don’t have a neck.”
“They’ll disown me!”
Kaleb draped an arm over her. “They can’t do that. Your name is written in diamonds on your family tree, or so I hear.”
“You think they can’t saw off a limb? If a family wants to, they can chop, burn, or shred whatever family members they cast away.”
That answered Alex’s question about people seeing Raive’s name on the Havilah tree. If Astor was disowned, his son’s name wouldn’t be on the family tree.
Little caught Alex’s attention. “Is this about you?” she mouthed.
Alex shrugged. The invisible hug Romey was giving her hinted that yes, it was about her, but she mouthed back, “Or is this about you?”
Little winked.
Romey cupped her hand over her ear and faced the entryway, listening although no earpiece was visible. She flicked her chin and the doors responded, closing with a resonant bang, loud enough to frighten the life out of the dozens of excited conversations.
“I’m sure you have plenty of questions, and I will answer them to the best of my ability.”
“Is it true?” Madison asked. “We aren’t allowed to leave Brigitta?”
“For the night, yes, it’s true.”
“And the entire city is on curfew?”
“General Brozellos and the rest of the Patrol said it would be easier to do their jobs if the campus, the city, and all surrounding areas are vacant.”
“What about the witch?” Carr called out.
The reaction was mixed. The volume of voices swelled, spreading over the vestibule in shadows of panic and fear.
“Way to use an uncivilized term,” Linton scolded.
Alex felt the ribbons around her slacken, and she grew cold. Romey was losing focus.
“It was confirmed this afternoon that not only was a member of the gifted sighted, but there was also an unfortunate incident involving a newbury. I don’t have much information except that the victim was rushed to Dianab Medical Center.”
Kaleb scribbled something on a square of paper and handed it to Pax. “What kind of incident?”
Little’s brown eyes were wide. “A newbury was almost killed. Like afterlife killed. You didn’t hear?”
Kaleb shook his head and raised his hand. “Can you tell us who was hurt?”
Gray smoke hovered in the corner of the room where Carr sat with Jack and a few others. Still no Calla. “I’m surprised you don’t know,” said Jack. He shooed his hand at Little and Skye. “Was the witch one of your cousins or something?”
Skye leaped to her feet, and her red hair snapped like a whip. Her mouth moved rapidly, but her words were muted. Romey had her hand outstretched in Skye’s direction, her fingertips pressed against her thumb. Alex hadn’t known Romey could do this. Kaleb put an arm around Skye and when she looked at him, he shook his head to imply she should leave it alone.
Tess Darwin coughed loudly. “Who’s missing? If he wasn’t so large, no one would notice.”
A book took flight, arcing over the heads of the crowd, finding its target and slamming into Tess’s chest. Following the trajectory of the book was not difficult because there was a rainbow of gray leading to where it originated. Jack Bond didn’t seem to mind when everyone stared at him. This time it was Kaleb who jumped from his seat and began to shout a string of profanity so vicious, it slapped against the faces of those nearest to Jack.
Romey allowed this outburst.
Tess gasped and gazed at Kaleb in awe. Little patted his hand. But their knight in shining armor wasn’t concerned with chivalry at that moment. Skye yanked at his wrist to remind him that he’d just encouraged her to
leave them alone.
Alex was close enough to the fountain to hear Romey murmur under her breath that Jack deserved those words. “Mr. Bond, please see me after our gathering.”
Kaleb straightened up and tilted his chin to get a better look at Jack, who was flanked by Carr and a few others, but not Reuben. “I guess we know who the victim was.”
“Not a great day in Eidolon to be a hunter,” Chase remarked.
Alex grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Chase asked.
“I have a headache.”
Romey stood up on the spout of the fountain. “As of now, you are not to leave the building. You are welcome to stay here in the vestibule, and if you feel more comfortable sleeping down here, that is fine. The news tickers will be updated with reports.”
“Can you tell us where the attack took place?” Sigorny’s nasally voice came from the middle of the crowd. One second she wore a blouse and jeans, but the next moment, her mind projected her into pink, plaid pajamas. She tapped a slippered foot, looking like she had no intention of leaving such a smorgasbord of gossip for the night.
“I am not privy to that information.”
“Yeah, right … ” Linton muttered.
“Was it an isolated attack?”
“This is not a press conference, Sigorny.”
“Of course not, but I’m asking questions everyone else is thinking.”
“It was isolated, but there were witnesses. Perhaps you might get some information from them.”
Witnesses. There were only two people who paid attention to Reuben.
Sigorny tugged at the collar of her pajama top. “Yeah right. They’ll never give me an exclusive.”
Jack’s head of messy, muddy hair lifted above the crowd. He opened his arms wide, like a scarecrow in a field of contempt.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you how Reuben’s treatment around here is misplaced. If you’ve been following the media regarding our very own newbury class, you’ll know that there is a member of a much more prominent witch-hating family among us. It’s no secret Alex Ash has drawn in quite an eclectic group of tourists, and no doubt the gifted are curious, as well. The irony of your favoritism will condemn you—” His mouth kept moving without sound.
Of Delicate Pieces Page 21
