“When we first got attacked by trolls near Tara’s house,” Four finally said, “I was the one with the whistle, not Red. When you called for her to use it, I didn’t hear you. That’s why it took Neven so long to get there. I’d forgotten I had the whistle in the first place. I panicked. It’s stupid. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”
My mouth hung open. I slammed it shut. “Disappointed? You’re saying we only came to Philadelphia because of you? All of you only came to this dimension because of me!”
“That’s different. We were brought here to help. And we can’t even do that.”
I burst loose. “You have been helping! The Powers wouldn’t have needed to bring you here if I’d taken action, if I’d freed Neven and gotten training”—I was babbling but couldn’t stop—“if I wasn’t such a screwup that the Powers knew I could never do it alone—”
“That’s different! You’re the one who’s been stuck in that one-and-a-half-mile radius, with the government taking over the farm, your life. You’ve dealt with enough. All we do is slow you down and mess up. We were talking . . . We wish the Powers That Be had taken Hazels from worlds like Alpha’s, all trained and badass. But we’re just us.”
“It’s not . . .,” I said helplessly, suddenly realizing what we were doing.
Sometimes, even though we looked alike and acted alike and were alike, I forgot Four’s name wasn’t actually Four.
Her name was Hazel Stanczak.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Look at us. We’re the same person. We like the same movies and candy bars and soda, and this is what we disagree on? Who’s the bigger failure? God! How long have you felt this way? Blamed yourself?” I ran my fingers through my hair and kept them there, my fingers tangled in the locks. I knew the answer. Four had blamed herself since the minute the Powers chucked her through the rift. Four had blamed herself since the minute she was born.
I’d just been too busy blaming myself to see it.
“You really don’t hold it against me?” I asked quietly.
“No,” Four said. “You’re really not disappointed in us?”
“No.”
“In me?”
“No.”
“It’s just, the way you look at me sometimes compared to how you look at the others . . .” A nervous laugh escaped her. “I don’t know. Maybe Red has a point about that anxiety thing.”
For the first time this conversation, though, I thought Four might be right. I did look at Four differently. I’d said the same to Rainbow in that SUV, hadn’t I? Rainbow had her—her everything, Red had her competence, and Alpha had her bravery. Four only had her awkwardness and zits and uncertainty that reminded me too much of myself. If the way I looked at Four made her think I was disappointed in her, that I didn’t like her . . .
Maybe that had nothing to do with Four and everything to do with me.
A voice rang out from the hallway: “Hazel!”
Four and I jumped from our seats. “Mom?” Four said, right as Mom burst into the room.
“Hazel!” She was seconds from grabbing Four into a hug when she saw me across the table. She skidded to a halt.
Four’s lips twitched; her head dipped slightly. Then she looked up again, brightly—falsely—smiling. She gestured at me. “She’s—”
“I think we’d both like to say hi,” I said. “If that’s OK.”
Mom looked between the two of us. She lingered on Four’s faltering smile. “Hi,” Mom said softly.
“Hi, Mom. Can I call you that? Never mind. I get that it’s weird.”
Footsteps caught our attention. Carolyn entered the room, Valk behind her. “Director Facet is on his way up,” Valk said coolly. “He would like—”
“He would like to wait.” Mom glared. “He’s a very understanding man who’ll happily give our family a minute of privacy after my house almost blew up, my husband was put in the hospital after nearly drowning, my oldest daughter was kidnapped by a dragon—incidentally, it must’ve slipped Facet’s mind to mention he was keeping a dragon on my property—and then that same daughter fell off a goddamn balcony right in front of him. I appreciate his respect for our difficult situation. Please make sure to convey the full depth of my appreciation. Should he want to keep busy while he waits, the contract we signed sixteen years ago is a real page-turner. My favorite is the part where we only agreed to cooperate with his department’s demands as long as they prioritized Hazel’s and our safety.”
Valk had braced herself throughout Mom’s speech. “I will pass on the message. Ah. I might paraphrase slightly.”
Once Valk exited, Mom turned back to us. “Sorry about that,” she said, all softness again. “Are you all right? Where have you all been? We were worried sick.”
I gaped.
“Mom’s been kinda upset.” Carolyn went to stand by my side. “I’m never getting in trouble again. Damn.”
“I believe you mean ‘darn,’” Mom said.
Carolyn nodded fervently. “Darn. Yes. I definitely meant to say that exact thing.”
“Have you been OK?” I asked Caro. “I’m sorry for running.”
She bit her lip. “You’re . . . you?”
I nodded.
“We were really scared,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. The MGA would’ve traced any text or email to our location.”
I stepped closer, hoping for a hug. She nearly crashed into me in response. “What did you all do? Were you really up north? Why? I saw some things online and—Can the dragon really talk?” Closer to my ear, she said, “Isn’t it weird, those copies running around?”
“Not copies,” I whispered back. “Versions. Just wait till you meet Rainbow.”
I swallowed anything else I wanted to say. Director Facet stood in the opening to the waiting room, the other Hazels and agents behind him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but we ought to talk.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The thing about Director Facet was this:
When he said, “I’m sorry to interrupt,” it sounded like he meant it.
When he said, “Hazel, I know this gets harder every day. If I could change only one thing, it would be for you to be able to step outside that perimeter,” it sounded like he meant it.
When he said, “You watch a lot of teen movies, right? Did you like that one about the love letters? I’ll get you a screener of the next one. Let me know what you think,” it sounded like he meant it.
And when he said, “Hazel, if one of your classmates gets curious and tries to sneak onto the grounds, I’m worried I can’t guarantee their safety,” it sounded like he meant it.
We didn’t talk often, but I’d always liked him. He’d given me his personal number. He seemed to pay attention; he seemed to care. After everything I’d done the past days, though, that care would have to run out soon—and I had no idea what to expect once it did.
“Sandra,” he said, “I wouldn’t intervene unless it was both important and time-sensitive.”
“Mm-hmm.” Mom stood protectively between him and Four.
He wasn’t an intimidating man: broad-shouldered, yes, but in a gangly way, where his shoulders jutted out and his neck was too long and the pieces didn’t seem to fit together. His eyes were a nondescript brown, his black hair peppered with gray, his skin pale and freckled. The most colorful thing about him was the bright blue frames of his glasses.
Somehow, intense was still the best way to describe him.
“I’m relieved to see you’re all right,” he said.
I practically saw Mom think, No thanks to you, but she kept silent.
“We’re happy about that, too, sir,” I said.
“You came back so we could work together?”
“It seemed like our best bet.”
“Our only bet, I reckon.”
“How much did Dr. Torrance tell you?”
He paused. �
��Is this about the destiny thing?”
I frowned. His phrasing boded poorly. Rainbow glared with such vivid irritation that I was relieved she stood outside his line of sight.
Something glinted near Rainbow’s collarbone. Her necklace, the one with the intertwined Venus symbols. I’d completely forgotten about it. My heart thudded louder. Mom and Carolyn could see her—had the necklace been just as visible when she visited Dad—?
Rainbow reached up and tucked the necklace into her shirt. She must’ve noticed me staring.
When Facet spoke again, I almost missed it. “This Chosen One story . . . We can’t devote much time to that theory. We need to investigate all possibilities. Scientific rigor. I know someone as smart as you understands that.”
“Theory?” My face fell. “You know me. I’ve always tried to help. I wouldn’t lie.”
His forehead creased. “I trust you. I simply don’t trust the source of your information. But we shouldn’t waste time arguing about the trustworthiness of . . . let’s say winged reptiles of unusual size . . .”
“Who self-identify as dragons in crystal-clear speech,” Rainbow interjected.
Facet stared her down. “Let’s get to the point. Hazel, I want to discuss what you have to tell us, and why you felt the need to run, but our first priority is to close that rift. Are we on the same page?”
He normally listened. Maybe I’d pushed it too far. An apology for wasting his time hovered on my tongue.
I swallowed it. “We’re on the same page.”
“Great.” He seemed pleased. “We’d like to take you straight to the rift for some tests. Yes, Sandra, we’ll take the utmost precautions—almost none of our researchers or agents have been injured to date.”
“Almost,” Mom echoed. “Hazel, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. None of you.”
“I want to, Mom.” I smiled to show her I meant it. After all these years, I finally had a chance to solve instead of cause. To help instead of burden. I’d take that chance in a heartbeat.
“I never doubted it,” Facet said. “We’ll give details on-site. Let’s get you moving.”
The van stopped on a deserted highway.
Torrance hopped out of the vehicle and strode across the road. The headlights glared at her back. The lighting lining the highway was dead. So were the billboards. The only light aside from the van’s was a faint glow from past the guardrail.
Valk, Sanghani, and I followed Torrance. She looked over her shoulder. Her glasses gleamed. “Just got word. The other three girls are up in the helicopter. We’ll signal them once the team is ready with the main Hazel.”
“I thought you wanted to test whether the rift responded to the others, too?” I asked.
“Not yet. We need to see whether—or how—the rift responds to you before we introduce other factors.”
“Dr. Torrance?” Agent Sanghani cleared her throat. “Are we sure keeping the girls in a helicopter is safe?”
“Are you worried about the dragon?” Torrance sounded amused.
“Well, yes. It’s a dragon.”
“A fair point,” Valk agreed.
“The pilot has instructions.” Torrance inclined her head at the glow past the guardrail and gestured for us to follow.
I picked up my pace so I walked side by side with Sanghani. “I’m sorry about what happened with the, uh, knife, back in Philadelphia when I was getting my dad out of the water,” I said. “I was just scared.”
“Whereas having a knife pointed at me made me feel so fuzzy and safe,” she said.
I recoiled. I’d never heard her so snarky. “I really am sorry.”
Sanghani had always been one of the friendly ones. She’d looked out for me. For the first time, I saw disappointment on her face. “Hazel, you’re a nice girl. I know you mean well. But people are dying. Cities are being destroyed. You might be the key, and when we needed you most, you turned on us and ran.”
“I thought I was helping.” I hated the uncertainty in my voice. I hadn’t just thought I was helping, right? I’d known I was helping. The MGA just hadn’t believed me.
I wasn’t sure I believed myself anymore, either.
“Well, you’re helping us now, at least.” Sanghani gestured past the guardrail. I stepped closer and peered down. In the dark, I hadn’t realized we weren’t level with the ground. Another highway stretched out beneath us.
And at its center, the rift.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Did it get bigger?” I placed my hands on the cool metal of the guardrail and stared down.
“We believe so,” Valk said.
“It changes,” Torrance said. “The edges are neither stable nor clearly defined. But on average, yeah, it’s growing.”
The rift hovered at a forty-five-degree angle to the highway, its lowest end shimmering mere feet over the asphalt. Around it—at a safe distance—stood a handful of vans with spotlights and odd equipment on their roofs.
I had a dozen questions right off the bat, but Torrance might not be the person to ask. “Why are you here, anyway?” I wondered. “You said you’d never worked with the rift itself. And I thought Facet would’ve been unhappy that you didn’t immediately report back once you found us.”
“Oh, he’s livid.” She sounded almost cheerful. “We need all hands on deck for now, but once all this is over, I’m not only fired, I may even face criminal charges.”
My eyes widened. Just for keeping our location to herself for a couple of hours? “So . . .,” I said slowly. “Then you’re here to provide a familiar face for me. Right? Like them.” I nodded at Agents Valk and Sanghani.
Torrance laughed. “Nailed it. Director Facet wants you comfortable.”
“Is it working?” Valk inquired.
I frowned. “I’ll . . . let you know.”
“You’re right,” Torrance said, “in that I never worked on the rift before. They only briefed me just now.”
“Should we go down there?” I studied the other highway. Those researchers were my best bet of getting useful information.
“Not yet,” Torrance said. “The team is gathering readings with you at this distance first. Stay right there. No more than a few feet in either direction.” She pointed at my feet and drew a loose circle with her finger.
“Just when I thought my radius couldn’t shrink further.”
“I’ll check what the plan is.”
If I leaned over the guardrail, I could glimpse the inside of a van stuffed with equipment and monitors. The displays showed similar images to the tablets some researchers held: a radar screen and maps with shifting colored overlays.
I squinted at the vans to get a clearer look at the rooftop equipment. “Are those sensors?”
“Yes.” Sanghani came up by my side. “I’ve been providing security for the research team, so I picked up some things.” She pointed out other equipment, both in researchers’ hands and carried by drones. “Some are for safety purposes. If the air turns toxic or otherwise dangerous, an alarm goes off, and we can pack up and be gone within seconds. They also measure air pressure, composition, radiation levels, and more. Drones go close for better readings, but sometimes they get sucked into the rift and disappear.”
“Have the researchers learned anything new?”
“Beats me. They don’t update security on their findings.”
The possibility that I was wasting my time nagged at me. The rift had never been shy about reacting to my presence or absence. It hadn’t reacted to my defeat of the trolls, either. Whatever connection had existed must’ve gotten severed the second I turned sixteen and the rift snapped away from under the Power’s thumb.
The feeling that I’d made a mistake pushed on my shoulders, swirled around in my head, weighed me down with every breath.
I turned my back to the guardrail to observe the area behind us. The closed-down highway reminded me of West Asherton nights, when sometimes, the only people on the road were me and an agent. No lights.
The trees only faint outlines. The world silent and black.
A paper bag danced across the asphalt. A flock of birds swept overhead.
Shamefully, I realized that I liked the quiet. Now I could actually look around without being startled every few seconds by noise, by people, by cars. I wished I could wander around Philadelphia itself like this. Explore the city like an open-world video game.
Over the next hour, the team brought me steadily closer to the rift. They moved me to the lower highway. They stuck electrodes to my skull. They asked me to approach, then to back up, then to move around the rift in a wide circle and approach from other directions.
I tried to get ahold of the head researcher, but she spent half the time holed up in a closed van and the other half going from colleague to colleague to overlook their work and give direction.
When I approached the other researchers, most of my questions were answered with a vague “Hang on a sec, let me wrap this up . . .” Occasionally, this was followed by cursing and thwacking the machinery—but never actual answers.
A week ago, I’d have taken the hint and dropped the matter.
I suddenly, sharply wished I could go back to that: the blissful ignorance, the passive acceptance.
Every now and then, the rift spat something out. Stones. Liquid that hissed as it hit the ground and bit half circles into the asphalt. A book in a language none of us could identify. Shards of glass.
The rift hung silently in the air. Its edges shifted like waves. My eyes kept trying to pin down where the rift ended, but somehow, I couldn’t; it was as though I’d just woken up and my eyes were still struggling to adjust. The rift shook into blurriness, expanded and shrank, crackled outward in a sudden spike, but never once seemed to sharpen.
How was I supposed to fix something so alien, when even the Powers That Be couldn’t?
Wouldn’t, I corrected myself. Not couldn’t. Not that it made any practical difference.
Perhaps knowing other solutions existed was a start, though. Maybe instead of closing the rift, we could board it up, the way Neven had explained in that field in Damford.
The Art of Saving the World Page 24
