by Ally Carter
But we don’t have time for Lila’s shock or outrage.
Megan gives her a that’s old news hand wave and starts making notes for what she has to do.
“And I guess that leaves us,” I say, looking at Lila. “I mean, if you want to help.”
“That depends. What are you going to do?” Lila sounds more than a little skeptical.
“We’re going to the Society,” I say. “We’re going to claim our birthrights.”
Slowly, we all stand and gather our things. Once we’ve cleared away any evidence that someone has been inside Iran, Alexei takes my hand and pulls me aside.
“I believe you forgot to give me a job.” He’s smiling, trying to tease. To flirt. He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say and, already, he knows it.
“You can’t stay here, Alexei.”
“No.” He’s shaking his head. “I’ll not leave you to take chances because of me. I’ll not sit on my hands while you and our friends place yourselves in danger because of me,” he says again.
“We won’t be in any danger! Megan’s going to be on her computer. Noah and Rosie are going to be walking down public streets. And Lila and I are just going to go look around a place we’ve already been invited to look around. It’s not dangerous.”
“Digging up secrets is always dangerous.”
“Alexei, you’re still the most wanted man in Adria. We need you to go back to the cave.”
“No. These are dangerous people. I don’t want you sticking your noses where they do not belong.”
“Why?” I ask. “It’s not like you’ve got anything to hide,” I say in the manner of someone who knows too much about secrets.
Alexei catches my arm and doesn’t let me pass. When he speaks again his voice is low and his accent is thick. “We all have things to hide.”
It’s late in the day when I return to the embassy and find a suitcase on Jamie’s bed. Rows of neatly folded clothes sit in orderly stacks. Some books. A few toiletries. For a second, I panic. Jamie just got here. I just got him back. But another part of me has to wonder if this isn’t what I want — for Jamie to leave Adria, to go back to West Point. For my brother to get far, far away from me.
“Jamie? Are you leaving?” I step farther into the room, but Jamie just keeps folding and refolding clothes, trying to bring order to our messy world.
He doesn’t even look me in the eye when he says, “No. Not yet.”
“But —”
“These are Spence’s things. His parents asked me to ship them home.”
Suddenly, the feeling in the room makes sense. Jamie isn’t packing. He’s mourning. And as usual I’m in the way. I should slip back through the door, but my legs don’t move. I stand, frozen.
“I’m really, really sorry about your friend, Jamie. I don’t know if I told you that. But I am.”
“Thanks,” Jamie says, then finally glances up. I’m filthy from walking through tunnels and sitting on the floor in Iran, and my rain-drenched hair has no doubt dried funny. I probably look as awful as I feel, and my brother sees it. “Where have you been?”
That’s all it takes to make me want to crumble, to break down and tell him everything. Jamie is older. He’s supposed to be wiser. He had years more with our mother than I will ever have, and I want to ask him if he ever heard her talk about a treasure or a society or any reason someone might want her dead. Mom was obsessed with something, I want to say. It’s like I never knew her, and now I know I never will.
A week ago I thought I’d spent the last three years living a lie, but now I know that it’s actually been much longer. I want to go back to being the little girl who was on the outside of the secret.
“Grace, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I killed our mother and someone killed Spence — someone is trying to kill Alexei. A better question might be what’s right?
So I tell him, “Alexei’s okay,” because right now it’s the only thing that matters. “I mean, I don’t know where he is exactly, but I know he’s fine.”
I’m lying, but that’s not the look that Jamie gives me. If anything, he looks like someone who would give anything not to be the bearer of bad news.
“Oh, gosh,” my brother says. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Russia blew up their own car, Gracie.”
For a second, I’m sure I must have misheard him.
“No. I told you. Alexei was supposed to be in the car. He was turning himself in. And, besides, Spence made it back to the mainland!”
“Oh, Gracie.” Jamie sounds like he’d give anything to keep me young and naïve and stupid. But we both know it’s far too late for that. “There’s proof. Adrian officials finally got eyes on the car. And, besides, there’s a witness. The cops just briefed Grandpa. There’s a witness who saw Spence on the mainland after the party. And he was with Alexei.”
Jamie sounds as if this makes it real, but I know all about witnesses, how they appear and disappear to suit the needs of some kind of higher calling. I know medical records can be altered and even gunshot wounds can morph into something else. Jamie’s older and no doubt wiser, but on this topic I am the expert, and my brother has no idea.
“No.” I shake my head. “Witnesses lie. They get confused.”
“This one isn’t confused.”
“Alexei’s not a murderer.”
“But Spence was a hothead!”
For a second, Jamie’s as stunned as I am to hear him shout, but he’s so angry now. Not with me. Not even with himself. He’s angry with the thoughts that he’s obviously been carrying for days. Gone is his cool logic, and what remains is guilt and dread. It rolls off of him in waves.
“Okay, Gracie? I know that. And that’s what worries me.”
The rage fades, and in its place grows something so much darker, sadder.
“Spence wasn’t the type to let go of what happened on the beach — to take it. Not from some high school kid. Not from some Russian. He could have picked a fight, and in the heat of the moment, in the dark … it could have gotten out of hand. It could have gotten out of hand real fast. Don’t you get it, Gracie? I’m not afraid Alexei started something.” His voice cracks. He can’t meet my gaze. “I’m afraid that Alexei finished it.”
Jamie’s really scared, I can see it now. This isn’t the by-product of grief or guilt. He actually doubts Alexei. And that makes me doubt myself.
“But if Spence made it back to the island, then anyone could have done it,” I say.
Jamie laughs softly, as if it would be nice to be so innocent. “Do you know how hard it is to break a man’s neck with your bare hands — how hard it would be to do it to someone like Spence, who was big and strong and trained? Dad could do it. It would have to be someone like Dad.”
“Exactly! Alexei doesn’t have that kind of training!”
It’s supposed to be the perfect argument. This is supposed to be the moment that changes his mind. But, instead, my brother gives me a look that makes my blood go cold.
“Did Alexei ever tell you what his dad did before he came to the embassy?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t know what it was exactly. KGB? Russian special forces? I don’t really know. I just know that … You know how, growing up, boys say things like my dad could beat up your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Alexei’s the only kid I never said that to.”
I try to remember the boys they were, how they used to laugh and play and run wild through the halls and down the streets, but no matter how hard I try I just can’t reconcile who they were against who they are.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Alexei doesn’t have to be a murderer to be a killer. I’m saying that if he ran into Spence on the mainland that night …”
Slowly, my brother turns back to Spence’s things. He’s still trying to make them straight and even.
He can’t look at me as he says, “I don’t want
you to tell me where he is, so I’m not asking. And don’t bother telling me you don’t know, because I don’t want you to lie to me and I don’t want to have to lie to anybody else. But know this, Gracie — you’re right. Alexei is the best friend I have ever had. And I don’t want to think this. If there were any way to convince myself otherwise I would have done it days ago, but — right now — I’m pretty sure he did it. I want to be wrong. But, Gracie” — Jamie looks at me — “I’m probably not.”
When I leave my brother, I can’t go to my room. There’s no way I can sleep. I leave the embassy, but Noah and Megan and Rosie are no doubt sick of me and all of my drama. They’ve earned a night off, and so I’m not really sure where I’m going until I feel the cobblestone streets give way to soft dirt. I check to make sure I’m not being followed, and then I’m climbing. Pebbles shift and muddy earth crumbles beneath my feet, but I climb faster. My breath comes harder than it should. I’m still too thin and too weak. My side is still tender, and I know that I am fragile, but that makes me move faster, careless on the uneven ground. I don’t care. I’d run if I could. And I’d keep running. Until I ran out of land.
When I see the clearing and the rocks I know exactly where my feet have led me. When Alexei emerges from the small crack in the stone, I know why.
“Hi,” he says. We are high in the hills that overlook the city. In the distance, the sun is setting on the far side of the sea, and I stand in the twilight, looking down on the great walled city. They call it one of the wonders of the world, but the walls I have built around myself are higher, stronger, deeper. They have kept me safe for years, but when Alexei moves toward me, I feel the stones begin to shift; the mortar starts to crack and crumble, and the walls that guard my heart grow unsteady. But I cannot turn and run away.
“What’s wrong?” Alexei asks.
I shake my head but can’t speak. I don’t want my voice to crack. It’s hard enough being vulnerable without letting anyone know it, see it, hear it. I can’t let this boy know how easy it would be for him to hurt me.
“Gracie, are you okay?” Genuine worry fills Alexei’s eyes, and I think that’s what finally breaks me.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Did your embassy blow up its own car? Were they going to fake your death and send you back to Russia?”
He’s supposed to deny it, be outraged. But instead he says, “I don’t know.” It’s harder than hearing him lie.
“Did you see Spence back on the mainland that night?”
“No.” This time he’s emphatic. He takes two long strides and reaches for me, but I pull away. “Gracie, I swear to you that I got a ride home with some kids I didn’t know and went straight back to the embassy. I swear it.”
“Jamie says there’s a witness who saw you with Spence on the mainland. After the party.”
“There isn’t. Or the witness is mistaken. Or lying. I never saw Jamie’s friend again. Not after the island.”
I want to believe him. Really, I do.
“Gracie, would I lie to you?”
I never thought my brother would lie to me. Or my father. Or Ms. Chancellor or Grandpa or practically everyone else I’ve ever known. I never thought I would spend three years lying to myself.
The ground beneath me has been shifting for too long. My world is too unsteady. So when Alexei reaches for me again, I don’t try to pull away. I am looking for anything that might anchor me at last to solid ground.
“Say you believe me, Gracie. None of it matters if you don’t believe me.” He’s forcing me to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I think about Grandpa and Jamie, about the Society and the wanted posters that still blanket the city — of how high the flames were when the car exploded. I’m thinking of lost treasures and hidden rooms and of whatever obsession might have driven my mother to her grave. I’ve been carrying these things with me for too long, and I can feel them tumbling over and over in my mind like clothes in a dryer, warm and full of static. I keep waiting to feel a shock.
“Lila and I are going to go down to the Society tomorrow. Maybe we can find something about the treasure or Spence or …” I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Then don’t do anything. Please, Gracie. Please. It’s too dangerous. And you’re too … You’re too important.”
“I’m not important.” I shake my head, but Alexei catches my hands.
“You’re important to me.”
The air is growing chilly, but Alexei’s hands are warm. I tell myself that’s why I don’t pull away.
“Just don’t take any chances, okay?” he says. “Don’t get hurt. I don’t think I could take it if you got hurt. Say you understand, Gracie.”
I do understand, so much more than Alexei can ever know. I understand what it’s like to feel the earth shift beneath you, to know there are people you can’t trust. I understand what Dominic meant when he told me that Alexei is a pawn in a much bigger game with dangerous players who will sacrifice anyone to get whatever they want.
I understand that no one else is looking for the truth.
I understand I might be his only hope, as pathetic as that sounds.
So I look up into his eyes and force a smile. I’m not lying when I tell him, “I understand.”
“You want to get out of here?” Alexei asks, tugging on one of my hands.
“You can’t go back to town, Alexei. It’s not safe yet.”
“Then we won’t go to town.”
I don’t know how far we walk, or for how long. I’m only aware of how big and bright the moon is as it rises over Adria, how warm Alexei’s hand is and how tightly it holds on to mine.
I’m content to let him lead me. For a little while, I forget to fight. Alexei is with me, guiding me, and I am not alone anymore, watching my mother’s shop burn. I’m not shaking on the street or strapped to a bed in a psych ward, screaming out my mother’s name. There is someone here who is bigger, stronger, faster, and he’s on my side.
I use the wall inside of me to block out those thoughts, a very brief reprieve against the worries and doubts that are in a constant siege against me. Alexei is standing guard.
I close my eyes. I take a deep, deep breath. The air is cool and fresh after the rain. When Alexei stops I come to rest beside him, and in the stillness that follows, far away from the chanting of the protestors or the crashing waves of the sea, I hear water. Not the Mediterranean. It is a rush — a steady, constant hum that fills the darkness.
“What is that?” I look up at Alexei.
“A secret,” he tells me. “Come on.”
A minute later he is pushing aside the undergrowth of trees and pointing down into a tiny valley. The noise is louder now, and I can see its source. Rivers run through the hills surrounding Valancia, and some of them must converge here, rushing into a great waterfall, pooling at the base of the valley. The vegetation is thicker, the air cooler. It’s like Alexei has taken my hand and led me all the way to Eden.
“Jamie and I found this place when we were kids, trying to run away from you. I think the land technically belongs to the royal family — most of the land around the city does. I’ve never seen anyone else here, though. I’m fairly certain we are alone.”
Even without Alexei’s assurance I would know that it’s true. We’re no more than a few miles from Embassy Row, and yet it feels a world away as Alexei drags me down the hill — too fast. We stumble but keep running, in an odd kind of race. We want to leave the world away, on the far side of the ridge. We are running toward paradise, and nothing — not even common sense — can stop us.
When we reach the water’s edge, Alexei drops my hand and immediately reaches for his shirt.
“What are you” — I start, but by that time, his shirt is already off, tossed to the ground — “doing?” I finish. I know I should turn away, but my feet don’t agree with me, because I just stand there, staring.
“Come on, Gracie,” he yel
ls, already diving into the water. His cargo shorts are going to be soaked. I can’t remember whether or not Rosie brought him a change of clothes. The nights are going to be cold in his wet things, but logic fails me, words fail me. I can think of nothing as I watch him swim out into the dark water — strong, sure strokes that carry him farther and farther from me.
“Come in!” he yells.
“I —”
I don’t have a swimsuit.
I don’t want my wound to get infected.
I really should be getting back before Jamie or my grandfather or Ms. Chancellor sends out a search party.
I have a big day of betraying my ancient sisterhood tomorrow.
I could offer up any of a dozen valid excuses, but I don’t let myself think of the reasons not to do something. I try to focus on the reasons I should.
The tank top beneath my sweater is black.
My cardigan is warm.
And one of the few people in the world I actually trust is out there in the stillness, waving, yelling, “Gracie, come on!”
So I take off my shoes and my sweater.
So I follow.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I tell Alexei when I reach him.
“I smell, Gracie. And I’m tired. And every part of me hurts from sleeping on the ground last night, so yes, I should be doing this. I’m just glad you’re doing it with me.”
I tread water and look up at the moon that’s rising.
“The water’s warm,” I finally say, dipping low to let my hair wash back away from my face.
“Yeah.” Alexei’s treading water, too, barely moving. We’re both suspended — in the water, in time. “I think one of the hot springs must feed into it. It’s like this all year long,” he says, and I know it’s true. The weather in Adria never varies much, but I can imagine Alexei sneaking out here in the middle of winter, taking off his shoes and shirt and diving in.
“Stop,” Alexei says, pulling me back.
“Stop what?” I ask.
“Stop thinking.” He’s closer now, I realize. I can barely see the shore. In Valancia, the Festival of the Fortnight is in full swing. Natives and tourists no doubt fill the streets, but Alexei and I are cocooned in our own little world. And we are happy. Almost.
