Chapter 46 #3
He stood and pulled a medical device through the walls. The machine came up to his lower chest. It was on caster wheels, and he rolled it across the floor. There were knobs, dials, tubes, and pumps. It even had a touch screen.
“What is that?”
“A dialysis machine.” He smiled. “I was thinking about blood recently.”
I raised my eyebrows at that statement, but he waved it aside.
“And I thought, if a leggerock’s oath is in your blood, then maybe if we filter your blood, then it’ll filter out the binding.”
“Really?”
“Well . . . maybe.”
I smiled. It was worth a try. A dialysis machine was like an artificial kidney. It took the blood out of you, filtered it, and put it back in. “You’re lucky I’m not squeamish. How long does it take?”
“About three hours, maybe five.”
“Oh.”
“You could make some chairs. A couch.”
“I could?” I didn’t create illusion; I’d only ever torn it down.
He nodded. “It’s your room. Your mind. You can do whatever you want here.”
I concentrated, and then a green velvet couch appeared. It was similar to the couches in the Night Den, plush and soft. I made myself comfortable.
“Maybe while it’s working, we can talk.”
“Do you like ice cream?” Jacob asked.
“Mint chocolate chip.”
“That’s my favorite too.” His eyes lit up. “Do you like to read?”
I shook my head. “No. That’s Luvic. He loves to read.”
He nodded. “If you were a woman—”
“I am a woman.”
He stared at me as if “sister” and “woman” were two things that prior to this moment hadn’t intersected. It took a second, but then he nodded. “Right. Good point. As a woman, let’s say someone was going to give you a gift. And if they were to give you a gift, what would you want to get?”
I had a feeling he wasn’t asking what kind of gift I would want, but what gift he should get someone else.
I chewed on my bottom lip.
“Is she a conjurer?”
“Yes.”
“Does she already have everything?”
“In a way.”
I thought about it. If she was powerful enough, there wasn’t really anything she couldn’t get herself.
“You like her? This is a nice gift? Not a ‘Surprise! Venomous snakes in a box!’ gift?”
He laughed, which was unexpected. And nice.
“All right,” I said. “That’s easy then. I’d get her something she can’t conjure. Something she doesn’t realize she needs. Something that’ll make her smile.”
He thought about this for a moment, then his cheeks turned pink. I looked away as he hooked me up to the machine.
Four hours later, after Jacob had told me stories about our mom, our dad, our home (the one I’d burned down), and family trips to the north, the machine stilled and went quiet.
“Well?” he asked.
I shook my head. “It didn’t work.”
He dropped his chin into his hands. “Darn.”
So that was that.
“Jacob?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
It was time to go back to Hell Gate. It was long after midnight. This morning, the Smiths had destroyed my home, and I hadn’t been back to see the wreckage. I hoped Rou was okay. I hoped Griff hadn’t been hurt after Luvic tore me away. I hoped . . . well . . . I hoped.
I stood, only a little wobbly on my feet. “About Rockefeller. Why didn’t you stop it from falling?”
Jacob frowned and steadied me. “Rockefeller? Because yesterday, the Smiths took control of the Middle East. The day before, they sacked Asia. Europe fell the day after the Smith took the crown. The Bard is using it to launch war. If not Rockefeller, then it would’ve been something else.
Something worse. I didn’t stop it because I was controlling the fall.
And now I know what the Bard is going to do, and I think I know what the Smiths will do.
A controlled catastrophe is better than chaos. ”
“When I go, you’re locking this room? Jagger won’t find it? I won’t remember this?”
Jacob swallowed. “Yeah.”
Looking at him was like looking in a mirror that was foggy and distorted but still a mirror. It was so obvious now why I’d always pitied him when I heard the story about him shattering his mirror. I’d always felt he must be very lonely. Very alone.
I wondered if he had anyone at all. I hoped the woman he was finding a gift for would be kind. I hoped she’d be there for him. I never was.
It was strange to think he’d been there my whole life, but I’d been there for none of his. I’d never been a sister to him, and I wasn’t able to start now.
But like he said: sometimes, imagination was better than reality.
Maybe his imagined sister—the one he’d made up in his head when he was little—was better than the real me.
I frowned, wondering. “What did I say when you were little and you told me about your books and frogs and illusions? What sort of things did the imagined me say?”
He shook his head like he couldn’t understand why I was asking. “You didn’t say anything. You were just there.”
I laughed. “So I’m nothing like your imagined sister.”
“No.” He smiled, and it was the brightest, happiest smile I’d ever seen him give. “You’re real.”
I smiled back. “Okay. I’m ready now.”
He nodded. Then he put his hand to my head, and the room inside me shattered.