by Lisa McMann
“I wouldn’t!” he said, but immediately he doubted himself. And then he began to regret that he’d never reached out to his parents from Artimé once he’d had the chance. He’d always thought of it as their job to come to him if they wanted to see him, and they’d chosen not to do it. They’d chosen to let him be sent to his death, and they’d chosen to stay in Quill once Artimé was exposed. That was their decision! Even when Alex saw his father near Mr. Today’s grave, Mr. Stowe had hurried away from him, as if Alex were somehow dangerous. What was Alex supposed to do? Beg? After what they’d done to him? But he’d never asked. And maybe they assumed Alex would hate them. They’d have been right.
Maybe if he had invited them to Artimé, they would have come. But he hadn’t, and now they were dead.
His heart tore anew when he thought about Aaron. Aaron had been close, once. Close to joining Alex in Artimé. He’d been tempted—Alex had seen it in his eyes. But when he’d reached out, Aaron ran the other way. It was too late for him.
Alex sometimes wondered what would have happened if he’d let Aaron get the infraction. Would Aaron have turned out differently if they’d both been Unwanted from the start? Would they be friends now? He’d never know.
“You’re so stupid!” he cried into the floorboards, and then he pounded them once more as another wave of anger and remorse flowed over him. “Aaron,” he pleaded now, “you had so many chances. So many.” He grew quiet as the waves of emotion softened. “And I never let go of you. How could I?” He lay there for a moment, as pain began to swell inside him, this time sharp and physical, like half his soul was breaking away, being torn from his body and hovering just out of reach. Alex gasped in agony and surprise and pushed himself to his knees, holding his side where the pain ripped through him. A revelation came over him as he knelt there, alone in the stacks, clear and vivid as any dream, and as certain as the pain that split his soul.
“He’s dying,” he whispered. “Right now, this minute, he’s dying. Oh, help me. Someone . . . anyone . . .”
Element-ary
Alex pushed through the pain and tried to take hold of the truth—his brother was dying, and he was never coming back to Quill. But the pain in his side remained sharp and steady, no matter what Alex tried to do. He stared at the library shelves and tried to focus, but he wasn’t making much progress.
Soon, after pasting the 3-D door in her bedroom, Lani showed up, and together they sorted through piles of books, making hardly a dent. It was easier with Lani there. And it was nice to spend the time in silence, or chatting now and then about things other than death and dying.
Finding no luck after a day or two, Alex asked others to join them in the search. Samheed and Carina helped Sean up the stairs and through the traditional way, and Sky came with Lani through the 3-D door.
Alex was glad to have Lani take charge of the organizing. He remained quiet, mostly, preoccupied with the pain that never left his side.
In the evening, after the others left, Sky stayed with Alex. The two sat shoulder to shoulder together on the museum floor, in silence for a while, until Alex couldn’t hold his thoughts anymore. They came pouring out.
Sky listened. And listened. And listened. All night long, until years’ worth of Alex’s private thoughts and feelings and actions were strewn out across the endless floor like the scattered piles of books. Stories about his parents. Stories about Meghan and her bravery. And stories about Aaron and what life was like for them in their little dusty room in Quill that was now demolished, buried under tons of rubble.
They talked, and dozed, and sorted, and talked, and dozed some more, until Lani returned to start a new day of work and shooed them out to get something to eat.
And while Alex and Sky wolfed down a most delicious breakfast at the kitchen bar, Florence wandered in, saying over her shoulder, “Come on little ones. Let’s get a snack.”
Behind her, the twins toddled, laughing and trying to keep up with Florence’s long strides. One wore purple, the other red. When Florence noticed Alex and Sky, she grinned and picked up the girls, which made them laugh harder, and set them on the countertop near where Alex and Sky were sitting.
Alex, nervous, sat back in his chair. “Uh, hi there.”
Florence pushed the girls toward Alex and guarded the edge to make sure they wouldn’t tumble off. “These are your sisters. As you can see, and as I’m sure you were wondering, they are doing quite well now after a few days of spoiling by the nurses.”
Alex managed a weak grin. “They look . . . fine,” he said. “Nice. I mean, I don’t really know anything about babies.”
“Carina and the nurses think they’re probably a little less than a year old.”
“Oh,” Alex said. “That’s . . . a good age.” He didn’t really know what to say.
One of the twins leaned forward and stretched out her hand, trying to reach Alex’s face. He backed up, and she took interest in his plate of food instead. She grabbed a crust of toast and shoved it in her mouth.
Sky laughed, but Alex looked at Florence in alarm. “Is she—is that—?”
“She’s fine. She just wants to share your snack.”
“Okaaay.” Alex frowned.
Sky tore off a crust of bread from her plate and offered it to the other twin. “What are their names?”
Alex looked up, curious. “Yeah,” he said. “What are they called?”
Florence shrugged. “No one knows, and we don’t want to stir up any suspicion in Quill by asking around, since we don’t want Gondoleery to know they’re here and alive. I think you ought to give them a fresh start, Alex.”
“Me?” Alex sputtered. “I don’t know anything about that. You guys just go ahead and do it.”
“Alex,” Sky said, disgusted, “don’t be ridiculous. They’re your sisters. And,” she added more gently, “it’s pretty likely the longer Aaron is gone that you’re all the family they have left.”
Alex cringed as the pain in his side throbbed. He knew deep inside him that something terrible was happening with Aaron, but what? If he was dead, would this pain last forever?
Florence leaned in. “Even if Aaron returns, you have a chance to give them the childhood you never had. Aren’t you excited about that?”
Alex flinched. “That’s a fine point, Florence, and you know I want that, of course.”
Sky squeezed his knee under the counter. After their long talk last night, she knew as well, now.
Florence tipped her head, waiting. “Well, then. You should name them.”
“All right,” he sighed. “Let me think about it, though.” He peered at the girls as if seeing them for the first time, trying to figure them out. “It might take me a few days to come up with some options.”
“A few more days won’t hurt,” Florence said. “I’ll take them back to the hospital ward for now so you can get back to your search. They’ve set up a nursery in the corner for them, though they like to escape and visit Simber and me.” She grinned. “But you can stop by and visit them now and then, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess.” It would take some getting used to. But they seemed like nice enough children when they weren’t crying. And they were his sisters. “I’ll come by,” he promised. When Florence swept them up, they waved over her shoulders, and Alex found himself waving back.
Sky and Alex finished their breakfasts, feeling ready to hit the library again. But just as they were leaving the kitchen, Lani came pounding down the stairs and flying around the banister carrying a small book high over her head.
“I found it!” she cried, leaping into the air. “Element-ary: A Guide to Elemental Magic!”
On the Island of Shipwrecks
When Ishibashi exited his shelter during the hour of calm, he carried a few of his newly recovered tools to the precious ship that Alex-san had so thoughtfully transported to the island. Now the three scientists could explore it once again after so many years.
Having such access to the ship fulfilled the scien
tists’ greatest wish, and as far as Ishibashi knew, he’d never expressed that wish to Alex—the young leader had figured it out on his own, which made the gesture even more thoughtful.
And likely, with the long future that seemed to be ahead of the three scientists, it would give them something to fill in the endless hours. Now more than ever Ishibashi wished for a few more hours of calm each day, since the machinery on board the ship was too heavy for the three old men to dismantle and move into the shelter. They had precious little time each day to explore and marvel over the equipment they had thought they’d never see again.
On this day, Ishibashi did as he always did. He shuffled to the ship as quickly as possible, with Sato and Ito right behind, and he climbed the iron ladder up the side. Because the ship’s bottom wasn’t flat, everything tilted to one side, but Ishibashi didn’t mind. He was old, but he was nimble, and after the first couple of days, he found footholds and handholds all around to allow him to look at everything.
As Ishibashi disappeared inside the hold, Sato and Ito climbed the ladder. Sato was the slowest and weakest, so he stopped at the top and looked around the island while catching his breath.
On the barren beach, a new shipwreck caught his eye. It appeared to be part of a fishing boat, but the storm had ripped it to shreds. Sato put a hand above his eyes to shield the weak sunlight that managed to come through the clouds. His eyesight wasn’t very good anymore. He saw what looked like a sack of goods farther down the shoreline. They would have to pick it up before the storm took it again—perhaps there was something exciting in it from the other world. Sato didn’t see any people, but he didn’t expect to. Most shipwrecks lost their passengers well before they reached the shore.
Carefully he climbed into the ship, and for the next while the old men examined the contents and tinkered with the machines, trying to dry out their waterlogged guts to see if they would work again. If only they had more time! If only the storm wouldn’t drench everything again, day after day!
Instinctively, when the sky darkened and the wind picked up, the three reluctantly climbed back out of the ship and made their way carefully down the ladder to the ground. Sato told the others about the new shipwreck, and all three went to look it over before going back to the shelter.
“Another fishing boat,” Ishibashi said to the others in their language. He picked up a jagged plank and tossed it aside, then pushed on the chunk of the hull that sat on the rocky ground to see how heavy it was—it might make a good container for plants. But it was too bulky to carry with so little time left today. If the storm didn’t devour it, he would go back for it tomorrow.
Sato walked farther down the shoreline to the sack of goods. But when he reached it, he gave a shout. He knelt next to it and turned it over as the other two scientists hurried toward him. It was a young man, all curled up, covered in a paste of wet sand. The waves licked at him.
When the others reached him, Sato looked up, his expression deeply troubled. He spoke rapidly to the others.
Ishibashi reached down to feel the boy’s pulse. He shook his head. The young man was cold and unresponsive. He was most certainly dead.
Sato spoke more firmly, and began dragging the boy toward the shelter. Ito and Ishibashi helped, moving as fast as their old legs could go, with Ishibashi and Sato arguing the whole way. Ishibashi did not want to take the body of this dead stranger into their living quarters. But Sato won out.
As thunder rumbled and a sudden blanket of rain poured down on them, the scientists maneuvered themselves into the shelter and pulled the body inside the main room. Sato took one look at the victim and gasped. The rain had washed the caked sand from the young man’s face. And while bruises were evident, the young man was clearly recognizable.
“Alex-san!” Ishibashi cried. “No!” Wildly Ishibashi, Sato, and Ito scrambled to resuscitate their dear friend who had been so kind to them. How did he end up here? Had the enormous flying cheetah dropped him on the rocks to die?
Sato and Ito pounded on the young man’s chest, and as Ishibashi watched in horror, he grew more desperate the longer their friend did not respond. He gripped his hat and wrenched his clothes and begged for life to return to the leader of Artimé, but nothing was working.
Finally Sato shouted to Ishibashi in a voice that sounded like a command. Ishibashi cringed. He nodded, and with a heart full of anguish, he ran to the greenhouse, ripped open the container of glowing blue seaweed, and took the tiniest pinch. He raced back to the others and knelt down.
Ishibashi looked at the glowing seaweed between his finger and thumb. He closed his eyes, his heart ripping apart. What he was about to do went against everything he believed. Everything. Yet . . .
“Please forgive me, Alex-san,” Ishibashi whispered. With that, he plunged the seaweed into Aaron’s mouth, massaging it between his cheek and gums for several seconds. When there was nothing left to do, he slowly backed away. Sato and Ito stopped their reviving techniques and sat back too, their worried eyes darting from the young man’s face to his chest, searching for any sign of life.
Broken Souls
Three islands away, Alex joined Lani on the ice-covered lawn. And as she chanted the words from a thin spell book that would remove Gondoleery’s grip on the island, the sharp pain in Alex’s side snapped and disappeared, and the broken half of Alex’s soul that had hovered outside him for days took flight. Alex clapped a hand to his ribs and gasped. In an instant, as the rest of the islanders watched a different show orchestrated by Lani, Alex could only see the one that was happening inside himself.
“He’s alive,” he whispered, clutching his side while the world changed beneath his feet.
The ice disappeared, and the grass and flowers sprouted up once more. The pirate ship and Claire’s speedboat were set free from the frozen stretch of sea, and in the distance, Alex could see the flash of a faux diamond–studded spike slicing the air, followed by Spike Furious herself, jumping and splashing in shallow water again.
“Yes!” Lani cried, turning to him. “We did it, Al!” She hugged Alex as the people of Artimé cheered and ran to the lawn to celebrate. “Artimé is alive again!”
But Alex hardly noticed what was going on around him. Strange thoughts appeared in his head and churned through his mind. He’s alive. He stumbled away from Lani’s grasp, a dazed look on his face. Lani watched him quizzically as he stripped off his robe and thrust it at her.
“Here,” he said in an odd voice. “I . . . I need you to take care of things. My sisters, and Artimé, and everything. Just for a while. Something’s happened, you see, and I . . .” He searched the crowd, looking for someone, and finally he found her. “I’ve got to . . .”
Lani grabbed his shirt, forcing his attention back to her. “Alex, what in the world are you doing?”
Finally he looked into Lani’s eyes. “I’ve got to go,” he said simply.
And before his stunned friend could reply, Alex ran to Sky’s side, took her hand, and spoke earnestly into her ear. Her eyes grew wide. And then she nodded. Alex kissed her cheek and darted off alone, almost completely unnoticed by the rejoicing Artiméans. He veered off the lawn to the shore, and continued toward the lagoon. And once he arrived at the spot where platyprots often perched, he splashed through the water, dove, then surfaced and climbed into the gleaming white boat named Claire.
He stood at the controls, and at his command, the magical boat roared to life. Alex swung it around, pointed it to the east, and without a single look back at the land and people he loved, he set out, full speed ahead, in search of the broken half of his soul.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to all of you Unwanteds out there who are reading this series and telling your friends about it. I’m so grateful!
Thanks as always to my family: my husband Matt, who puts up with my moments of panic so others don’t have to; my son, Kilian, who makes me look cool at schools because his character drawings are such a hit with students; and my daughter, Kenne
dy, who keeps me organized because of her great help behind the scenes. Thanks to my extended family as well for your constant support—parents, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews.
You all rock!
This book would not be possible without the hard work of the entire Aladdin team. Saying thank you hardly scratches the surface of my gratitude. Special thanks to my amazing editor, Liesa Abrams, whose passion for kids’ books is limitless; to publisher Mara Anastas, whose energy knows no bounds; and to Karin Paprocki and Owen Richardson, whose stunning artwork and designs never cease to delight all who lay eyes upon them.
This is my fourteenth published book, and every time I pen the acknowledgments I find myself profusely thanking my agent, Michael Bourret. I am running out of ways to express myself, therefore I will simply say that I am so very grateful for you and for the person you are, and my adoration only grows.
I hope you enjoy this fifth installment in the Unwanteds series!
Author photograph © 2011 by Vania Stoyanova, VLCPhoto
Lisa McMann is the author of the New York Times bestselling Wake trilogy, Dead to You, Cryer’s Cross, the Visions trilogy, and the New York Times bestselling middle-grade dystopian series The Unwanteds. She lives with her family in the Phoenix area. Learn more about Lisa and find her blog through her website at LisaMcMann.com. Or better yet, find her on Facebook (facebook.com/mcmannfan) or follow her on Twitter (twitter.com/lisa_mcmann).
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