Andrew had cut out his tongue.
“Holy shit,” Molly cursed quietly. She realized her hand against the wall was touching something metal. She looked over.
The key to Tyler’s cage hung on the wall, right in front of him. Positioned so that the tortured man could always see it, but never reach it to free himself.
Molly’s fingers closed around the key, and after a moment of fumbling, she had found the lock on the cell door. She turned the key and wrenched the door open.
“Come on,” she told Tyler. “I hate you for what you did for Jake. But I can’t leave you like this.”
But Tyler didn’t dive toward the opening, or scramble for freedom. He shook his head frantically, pressing himself harder against the cement wall, holding out his hands as though shielding himself from a blow.
“Come on,” Molly urged him. “We don’t have much time. I’ve got to figure out how to get you out of here.”
“He won’t go,” Denise’s toneless voice said from just behind her, and Molly gasped and spun around.
Denise stepped closer, standing just in the doorway to the room, her lips pressed together as she looked over at Tyler. “Andrew has broken him too completely for that. And besides, Andrew would never forgive you for depriving him of his second-favorite toy.” She stepped forward and gently closed the door of the cell, making sure that it clicked into place. She slipped the key from Molly’s numb fingers and hung it carefully back on its hook. Her black hair swung around her shoulders as she leaned in closer to Molly, whispering fiercely, “You can’t do anything for Tyler. But you can still save yourself, and Jake. Get out of here. Quickly.”
Molly nodded, her mind still reeling. “You’re right,” she whispered, “I’ll go.”
Just then, there was a loud click, as the door to Andrew’s study opened. A second later, they could hear Andrew’s voice booming, and the faint sound of another voice answering.
Denise’s shoulder hunched, and she grabbed Molly’s hand.
“Come with me!” she hissed, “There’s a back way out. We have to hurry.”
Molly followed without question, and Denise led her out into the narrow hallway and around the corner. Glancing over her shoulder to be sure that Andrew wasn’t in sight, Denise pushed on a panel of wall, which slid back, revealing a long, dark tunnel.
“This is Andrew’s secret escape route,” she whispered to Molly, “It will take you all the way up to the surface. To the metro section. Go,” she pushed Molly’s shoulder, urging her into the opening. “You won’t get lost. Just keep going, till the dark gets lighter.”
“Wait,” Molly whispered, as Denise began to shove the panel of wall closed again. “Can you get a message to Jake?”
Denise paused, her eyes narrow. Then she gave a sharp, bare nod.
“Just tell him I’ll be back soon, and that he should lay real low. Until I come for him.”
“Fine,” Denise snapped. “Now go. Before you’re the death of us all!”
The panel slid shut. Molly didn’t wait for her eyes to adjust to the pitch black all around her. As quietly as she could, she scrambled down the dark passageway, her legs burning, and her whole body shaking with fear.
Evie
“You gave me poison?” Evie cried. “Why?”
The King steadied her with his hands, even as he pulled her toward the door. “Every soul experiences great clarity in the moments before death.” He explained. “It is just a small jump from there to prophecy. Your transformation will be easier now that your body is weakened. It will save you from the poison’s effects . . . if you can survive it.”
“And what if I had not passed your test?” Evie demanded. She blinked rapidly, refusing to acknowledge the way her vision was swimming.
The King stopped short. He straightened up and looked her directly in the eyes. “Then we would have done whatever we could to save you. If you had wished it.” He paused. “If you had asked us not to save you, I would have respected your wishes, and let the poison take its course.”
Understanding flooded her. If she had not been deemed worthy to become one of them, they would have allowed her to choose death over slavery. If she had wished.
They were in the hallway now, and forms crowded around them. Evie would have looked at them with fascination and fear, had not the pain that had been biding its time inside her chosen that moment to force itself to the surface. Her back stiffened, and she thrashed like someone having a seizure
The King's voice boomed, somewhere outside the pain. “Prepare everything, and quickly. It is time!”
Evie felt her eyes rolling back into her head, felt the darkness coming. She did not even have time to wonder if she welcomed it.
When she woke up, the night air was cold against her skin. She opened her eyes. They were outside. She couldn’t even guess how far they had carried her, or where they were now. Palm leaves rustled overhead, and water whispered. She was lying on smooth, perfect stone, beside a small pool. Even through the pain that racked her body, Evie could not help but appreciate how lovely the pool was. The shape of a perfect teardrop, the edges of the pool were lined with white stones that glittered like jewels in the bright moonlight. The water was so clear that Evie could see, despite its depth, all the way to the bottom . . . every inch lined with mother-of-pearl stones glinting with a thousand colors. The surface of the pool gleamed, filled to bursting with reflected moonlight.
Looking at it, deep longing pulsed through her whole body. Evie scrambled to her feet and took a hurried, unsteady step toward the pool’s shining water.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder, arresting her movement.
“Not yet, Evie,” the King’s voice whispered. “You are almost ready.”
It was only then Evie realized a large group had gathered around. For a moment, she thought that she glimpsed Roman’s face, anxious, in the crowd.
Several of the Watchers, females in white tunics, were tending to her, their jewel-colored wings stretched out behind them. One was pulling back her hair, another adjusted the dress they must have changed her into while she slept. Pale white to the point of translucence, it draped over her front and flared into a flowing skirt. Her back was left bare. It might have bothered her . . . she might have wondered who exactly had looked on while her clothes were being pulled from her body, if the pain hadn’t bubbled up in her again, clawing now inside her throat.
A woman was holding a cup to her lips.
“What?” Evie shuddered. “More poison?”
“No.” It was the King who answered. “The poison weakens your body. Makes it more susceptible to change. The pool gives you strength and healing. But this drink is what makes the change come.”
Evie took it and drained it. She did not taste it, did not know if it was bitter or sweet.
She felt a sudden, burning pain against her back. And then another, as one of the women brought a knife down, slicing lengthwise, first one side of her back, and then the other. Her insides spasmed. Evie screamed and knew that she was dying.
Then her body was plummeting through the air. The King must have lifted her, but she didn’t feel anything until the water hit her.
Until the pool reached out, like a living thing, and welcomed her home.
Evie sank down, deeper and deeper, until she was resting, motionless, against the bottom of the pool.
It didn't occur to her to breathe. She didn’t feel the slightest need to. She just felt the water around her, felt it splashing against the sides of the pool, slapping over the edges. She felt it with some part of her consciousness that was outside her body, for she neither breathed nor moved, but lay with lips parted, eyes open and unmoving. The moon shone down on the little pool, its light so bright that at the bottom, against the white stones, it seemed as bright as morning. Brighter. The light was increasing, the light that poured down from the moon pulsating as it grew in intensity. But it was not like light from the sun. This light did not burn . . . it purified as it shone . . .
it cooled. The moonbeams laid against the water and chilled it. The water pulled tight against itself. It stiffened. Something like thick ice formed, crusting over the top. Down, inside the pool, Evie felt the water thicken around her till it was not water at all. She floated in it, her arms wrapped around her legs, her eyes finally closing. For the first time in a long time, Evie felt completely at peace.
There was a voice with her, there in the water. Of course there was. Evie did not feel any surprise when the water around her began to whisper, and she knew without thinking that the words she heard were the Moon's own voice. It spoke to her not as a god, but as a parent. A parent so much gentler than any Evie had ever known before.
The moon whispered to her, as a mother sings to the child in her womb. And though Evie did not know the words, still . . . she understood completely.
A bright light shone for her and, calmly, she held it in her palm. With its light, she gazed from one end of her life to the other. In those moments, she knew with perfect clarity and accepted with complete serenity, everything that had happened to her, and all that was yet to be. She saw her life as a perfect whole, a song that you know all the way to the end, even though it is only half sung. She felt the very sound of her life vibrating in the water, and she smiled as it sang.
The change came slowly, awareness creeping back bit by bit so that she could not have said when it began. But, suddenly, she was aware that her back itched.
The itch grew.
It burned.
The burn grew till she kicked and flung out her arms, thrashing in the thick liquid. As she kicked, she rose, closer and closer to the surface.
Suddenly, she found that her face was pressed against a thick layer of ice. She did not like it. Fury, hot and red and unlike anything she had felt before, pulsed inside her.
Evie kicked the ice, pounded it. Again and again, her fist crashed against it, making no mark. The nails of her right hand stretched and lengthened, till they were not nails anymore, but the fierce, cutting claws of a predator. Thick, sliding out the pads of her fingers like cat’s claws, her claws hit the ice and pierced it.
The ice cracked with a sound like thunder, shattering the silence of the night. Evie thrust her head out of the water, gasping and sputtering. Air felt foreign in her lungs. At the back, her thick wings trembled and flapped uselessly, dripping with water, struggling to unfurl. Hands were thrust at her from every direction, reaching to pull her out.
She pushed them away. They did not know her strength, did not know all the secrets the Moon had told her. Already, like a dream, all that she had known was fading away. Evie clung to the side of the pool. Gasping, she pushed her hair out of eyes and stared upward. The Moon smiled down at her.
Evie smiled back. Then she spread out her wings of leather, as black as night. And Evie soared.
Molly
It wasn't hard, once she decided what to do. And the understanding came quickly, almost effortlessly, as Molly made her way through the dark and then, cautiously, stepped through the hidden doorway and out into the metro station.
It felt strange to walk among humans, knowing that she wasn't really one of them. But there was no time to think about that now. Molly lowered her head and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, throwing herself into the crowd. Letting it swallow her up.
She went to the library first, where she worked quickly, and with intense focus. It helped knowing that money wouldn't be an issue. An hour on the computer and she had a list of phone numbers. She wanted the best there was.
She knew she’d have no trouble getting it.
Only when she stepped outside and felt the cold burning the back of her neck did it occur to her that she would need a car. That, too, took only a very few minutes. She refused to think about it. She walked into the dealership, smiled brightly at the first salesman she saw, and leaned in nice and close so that only he could hear her voice. Twenty minutes later, she was just outside the DC border, driving her new car well above the speed limit.
The world outside her window turned green with surprising speed. Soon there were golf courses on one side and sprawling, stone-built schools on the other. She glanced at the GPS frequently, careful not to miss the last turn. Then she was pulling into the long, twisting drive of Hope Pavilion.
The main thing, Molly thought to herself as she walked past the carefully manicured flower beds, was not to make a scene. To arrange everything quietly. The double doors in the front opened into a bright, welcoming area. Thickly cushioned couches covered with warm, bright colors sat beside deep bay windows. Even with all the obvious wealth around her, Molly did not feel the slightest bit out of place in her leather jacket and torn jeans. The woman at the half-circle front desk smiled warmly as Molly walked up.
“Welcome!” the woman said. “Can I answer any questions for you about Hope?”
Molly folded her arms on the desktop and leaned in close, talking softly, careful to keep a smile on her face the whole time. The woman never even flinched. She probably didn’t even realize what Molly was doing. She smiled as her fingers moved on the keyboard, happy to help and arrange for anything that Molly asked. Soon, she was escorting Molly cheerfully to the director's office. There, too, Molly was cautious. She closed the door tightly behind her and scooted her chair next to the huge oak desk. Ten minutes later, she was strolling back to her new car. Everything was in place. The trip back to the city took less time than the drive out of it. She didn't have to check the map; here she was at home.
When she walked back into their room, Jake was sitting cross-legged against the wall, his eyes round and anxious. He jumped to his feet when he saw her, lurching toward her.
“Where have you been?” he gasped, taking her hands in his own. He was sweating. “Denise gave me this strange message and told me that you left. I’ve been so worried.”
“I'm sorry, Jake. Just come with me now, okay?” she tugged him toward the door. “I can explain everything. But I need you to come with me.” Jake followed willingly, despite his obvious confusion, and followed her through the hallways. When they passed other Echoes, Jake hung his head and avoided their eyes.
No one stopped them as they walked toward the elevator. Still, Molly’s pace quickened and Jake, picking up on her nervousness, matched her stride.
Soon they were outside. And though Molly had promised to explain everything, Jake asked no questions. He just slid into the car. Molly felt tired and tongue-tied. There was too much to say, and no way to say it. It was enough to be together. She reached out, and Jake took her hand in his. They held onto each other silently as the city faded in the rearview mirror.
It was only when they pulled into Hope Pavilion and the car came to a stop that Jake finally spoke.
“Molly?” he asked quietly, “What are we doing?”
Molly took a deep breath. “Jake, I need you to do something for me.”
“I'd do anything for you.”
“I know,” Molly whispered. She closed her eyes for a second, bracing herself. Then she pushed open the car door. “So come with me. Please?”
They stayed close together, their shoulders brushing, as they walked slowly up the pavement.
“Good morning!” the woman behind the desk greeted them. “Welcome to Hope! You must be Jake.”
Jake looked back at the woman blankly.
“Yes, that’s right.” Molly hurried to answer for him.
“I'll just tell Rebecca you're here.”
She disappeared down the hallway. Jake looked down at Molly, his eyes widening in profound confusion.
“Molly?” he breathed. “What . . .”
She pulled him over to one of the thickly cushioned couches. There were small groups of people clustered together throughout the large room, families clutching coffee cups, teenagers dragging desperately on cigarettes. Couples sitting silently, hunched over tightly clasped hands. Molly looked at them sorrowfully. Is this what hope looks like? she wondered to herself.
To her, it
looked an awful lot like despair.
“This is one of the best places in the country,” she said, rushing her words. “I've arranged it all. Their top therapist cleared her whole schedule for the day. So that she can spend it with you.”
“I don't understand,” Jake whispered, and Molly could hear the rising panic in his voice.
“You were right to be suspicious of Andrew,” Molly said, wrapping her hands around his. “I’m still going with him, to try for the goblet. But if something goes wrong . . . or if I don’t come back.” Molly shuddered, pushing memories of Tyler’s wild face away. “You’ll be safe here. They can help you.”
“They can't.” There was absolute certainty in his voice. “This won't work. Forget Andrew. Forget everything. Just the two of us. Let’s just get out of here, Molly.”
“And how long would that last, Jake?” Molly asked sadly. “How long until I find you in another dark hallway, with a needle in your hand?”
A woman cleared her throat delicately, and they looked up. She was much younger than Molly had expected. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a white, button-down shirt.
“I'm Rebecca,” she said, and she reached out and shook their hands warmly. “Molly, if you don't mind, I'd like to start by speaking with Jake privately. Then, if he agrees, I'll meet with you privately, too. Does that sound okay?”
Jake looked at Molly desperately, and she gazed steadily back at him.
“Please,” she whispered. “I'm not telling you to do this . . . I'm asking you. For me.”
Jake looked at her silently, his eyes clouded and his hands sweating in her grasp. Finally, he gave a single, sharp nod. He stood up and followed the woman wordlessly back to her office.
Waiting was torture. It wasn't just that time slowed down; Molly felt like her body turned to stone. Worry and hopelessness wrapped around her like iron weights, pulling her down, down, down, till she felt sure she would sink right through the cushions and deep into the floor, back to the dark, narrow hallways that had somehow become her true home, to the grimy vault that she had come to think of as her tomb.
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