Chapter 32
It’s dawn before I glimpse the signal from the rendezvous point—light in the form of a campfire flickers from the cave across the valley. At the sight of it, I bolt upright and flip over.
I don’t know why, but I expected the Nomad to be asleep farther from me.
Instead, he’s close enough to reach out and touch.
A chill snakes through me, considering how deeply I slept with him next to me.
I touch my throat, feeling the ghost of his fingers on my skin as the dream from last night washes over me, blanketing my true feelings with those from the dream.
There’s a tug in my chest when I watch the Nomad sleeping, an aching longing that doesn’t belong to me.
But I feel it just as keenly, and the betrayal even keener.
I shake it off with a silent shudder. There’s no reason to let it have a hold over me.
That dream’s a repeat. One I first had when I was still caged at the circus.
My parents had named me Elena, which means light, as a girl.
Tink had been a nickname my father often called me.
When I left home, I abandoned the name Elena, figuring it was easier to trace.
Our conversation about light last night must have jogged my subconscious.
I jab the Nomad in the shoulder with a nearby stick.
“Ow,” he groans, eyes still lazy with sleep as he blinks up at me. “You couldn’t have shaken my shoulder like a normal person?”
I ignore his whining and point across the valley toward the flickering cave light. The Nomad has better vision than me, being an unwinged Fae, and I watch as he scans the distance.
Who is it? I sign.
“Phoenix, Acel, and Lars,” he says.
Venus? I ask.
He shakes his head. “If she’s there, she’s invisible.”
Unease gnaws at my stomach. Venus doesn’t make a habit of turning invisible unless there’s a reason.
When the Nomad and I arrive at the cave, it’s Acel who’s keeping watch.
“We weren’t sure if you made it,” he says by way of greeting.
“Or if you’d been blown to smithereens.” He glances at the satchels hanging off our backs.
“If those are full of what I think they are, I’ll be relieved.
Lars hasn’t shut up about the implications of all the faerie dust in the world being gone.
And don’t even get him started on all the faeries being free. ”
Lars, who seems to have been summoned from sleep by the sound of his name, shoots up on his roll-out cot. “Oh, good. I feared you were dead, and that the mission would be compromised.”
Good to know you were concerned with our safety, I write.
Lars seems to take my sarcasm at face value. “Of course I was concerned. The implications of you both dying would have been disastrous, especially considering the lack of readily available faeries. What did happen? Something must have gone terribly wrong for the train to explode.”
The Nomad and I exchange a knowing glance.
“That’s a story for another time,” he says.
It’s then that I notice Phoenix is awake, staring up at the ceiling of the cave.
I walk over to her carefully, so my hands will be in her field of vision. Where’s Venus? I sign.
Phoenix’s eyes land on me just long enough to read the sign before going back to staring at the ceiling. “Dead.”
“Oh. Venus is dead,” Lars repeats without an ounce of remorse in his voice.
I, on the other hand, shudder. It’s not that I cared much for her, but that doesn’t mean I wanted her dead.
Lars, for once noticing my expression, flits his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve already come up with a way around having to use her powers for the final heist.”
I’m not the only one who shoots a glare in his direction. So does the Nomad before turning to Phoenix. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, surprisingly soft. “I know the two of you were close.”
Phoenix snorts by way of response.
What happened to her? I sign.
“As soon as you two left, everything went sideways,” explains Acel.
“The Company had guards stationed on that train,” says Phoenix, glaring at the Nomad. “But I imagine you already knew that beforehand.”
The Nomad’s expression is shuttered as he listens.
Lars speaks next. “We miscalculated. Guards descended upon our car before Acel and I could make our way to the engine to deal with the brakes. Thankfully, Acel’s skill set proved useful.”
Acel says nothing, his eyes somber. A vision of guards, necks broken, bodies strewn across the floor of the boxcar, flashes in my mind.
“After Acel dealt with the problem, he and I made our way toward the engine,” says Lars. “But there were too many of them. By my calculations, the odds were not in our favor.”
“So you abandoned the mission?” says the Nomad through gritted teeth.
“Not at all,” says Lars, no hint of defensiveness in his tone. “We still made it to the engine. Just not in time to be of any assistance to you two.”
And Venus? I sign.
“While those two were making their way toward the engine, Venus ran back into the passenger car to get me,” says Phoenix.
“But there was a Company guard stationed in the passenger car, dressed as a civilian. Once he saw her coming from the other boxcar, alive and well after the struggle we’d heard, he grabbed her.
He threw her up against the window. I knew as soon as I heard the crack that she was gone. ”
The Nomad appears unconvinced. “And you’re the only one who witnessed this?”
“She’s dead,” says Acel. “Saw it happen myself when Lars and I came back to find Phoenix and Venus after the train had slowed down.”
“There was no pulse,” says Lars.
A quietness descends over the group. Even Lars knows better than to chatter away. And for the first time, it sinks in that there’s more at stake with this heist than just my voice.
“I should have talked her out of this,” says Phoenix.
I’m sorry, I sign.
Phoenix doesn’t respond.
That still doesn’t explain how you made it off the train, I write.
“Once the train stopped, it was only a matter of climbing to the top of a car and jumping over the fencing,” says Lars.
“We had to time it correctly, of course, but the Company guards stationed around the perimeter were already raiding the train. There were only three of them stationed where the train stopped, and they weren’t clever enough to leave one outside to watch. They stormed in, and we snuck out.”
Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, the Nomad turns to Phoenix. “Are you still in?”
Phoenix glares at him. “What a cowardly way to ask the question.”
“But a practical one,” says the Nomad.
Phoenix doesn’t answer.
When it becomes clear she has no intention to, the Nomad turns to Lars.
“Do I have a choice?” she says. When the Nomad doesn’t answer, she fixes her gaze on Lars. “You had an idea to replace her on the team?”
“Yes, well, depending on how much faerie dust you managed to salvage,” says Lars, “I’ve been thinking for a long while about a concoction to make one invisible.
It would be temporary, of course. Assuming I can get the dosage correct,” he adds after further pondering.
Then, seemingly unaware of the negative implications if he’s wrong, continues, “But judging by the size of the satchels, I imagine I’ll have to use all of it. ”
I tense. At the same moment, the Nomad says, “No. We’ll use the faerie dust for what we stole it for.”
Phoenix scoffs in the corner. “Of course we will,” she mutters. “We can’t have Tink dealing with the consequences of your poor leadership, now can we?”
“I didn’t force you or Venus onto this team,” snaps the Nomad. “And last I remembered, I haven’t told any of you the plan. So if I make changes to it, who are you to say it’s not in our best interest?”
“Exactly,” says Acel. “You haven’t told us the plan. It would help us get on board if you did.”
I turn to the Nomad, pull out my pad, and write, Is it vital that we have someone invisible?
“Of course not,” he says. “If it was, we’d be doing that.”
But there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a way he lingers on my tattered wings, a hint of pain in his gaze that makes me unsure.
“So the sooner Lars can get to work on her wings, the better,” the Nomad says.
“Well, I certainly won’t be conducting any experiments in here,” says Lars, looking around at the barren cave. “I don’t even particularly like conducting experiments on your ship. You haven’t met all of my demands for a laboratory, you know.”
“Is the massive room I gave you back on the ship not enough?” asks the Nomad.
“It’s next to the kitchen. I can hardly focus with all the noise.”
“Yes, well, you’d better learn, because there’s going to be an additional obstacle in our way.”
“Which is?” asks Lars.
“The faerie dust—it’s unrefined.”
“Oh, excellent,” says Lars, throwing his hands up in the air.
That night, the nightmares don’t come for me. In fact, I don’t even dream.
I don’t get the chance.
Because I wake that night to the sting of rope scraping against my wrists and ankles.
My eyes fly open, my arms making to swing, but they’re already restrained.
I swivel my head around, searching for the Nomad.
My mouth calls out to him, but of course, it’s no use.
All I know is that someone is dragging me across the hard cave floor.
A moment later, a damp cloth covers my face, and I’m submerged in emptiness.