Chapter 60
Later that night, Rook and I sit by the fire in our room, trying to make sense of everything that happened.
“Why didn’t their device work on us?” I ask. “Was it defective, or was it just us?”
“I don’t think it was defective,” Rook answers, reading something on his phone.
We’ve tossed some pillows on the floor, and he’s leaning against one with his arm tucked under his head.
The orange light reflects off his nose and cheeks, highlighting the crown of his dark hair.
“This says they’ve already caught numerous people by using them. I think they work.”
I huff out a breath, tucking my knees up under me. “Unless they’re lying,” I say. “Trying to make it look like they’re doing something.”
“That’s possible,” he says. “But something tells me they aren’t.”
“We’re different,” I say. “I’m sure of it. Something about us is different. Right?”
He glances at me and then looks away, staring at the fire.
“What?” I ask. “There’s something you haven’t been saying.”
Rook sighs and sits up, pulling a knee toward his chest.
“I wasn’t entirely truthful with you when I said I’d never met another Keeper,” he starts. “They’re pretty common in the Wastes.”
I’m not all that surprised to hear this. “Why did you lie about it?”
He shakes his head. “Because I wasn’t sure that I could trust you yet.
But I don’t think I’m the same as the other Keepers.
I thought I was the only one, but then I met you.
” I study him, waiting for him to continue.
“Part of the reason I came to New Manhattan was to find out why I’m different.
I don’t think I am a Keeper, at least not in the way it’s always been defined.
And I don’t think you are, either. The truth is, I told you I’d never touched another Keeper during a storm, but I have.
It had no effect. What happened with us—that was new. ”
“So, what are we?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Why do you want to know? Other than the obvious?”
He rubs his jaw. “I’ve always wondered if I might be protected from the madness.”
I stare at him, weighing the implications of that. “And you think The Shield knows what you are? That you exist?”
“Possibly.”
“If they knew, wouldn’t they tell us?” I ask.
He shrugs. “They might have something to gain from our ignorance.”
“Like what?”
Again, he shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”
“But you have a hunch.”
He sighs and straightens his legs before running his hands down his face. “I can’t say for sure, but I think there’s at least one other person like us.”
I frown. “Who?”
“General Sol.”
The air gusts from my chest, like I’ve been kicked. “General Sol. You think she isn’t really a Keeper?”
“Doesn’t it stand to reason? Why is she the only one who hasn’t succumbed to the . . . infection?”
“Because she’s trained against it,” I argue. “She learned how to . . .” I trail off as Rook watches me, waiting for me to put it together. “And this might be another lie.”
He tips his head. “Very possibly.”
My breath comes out in a shaky, frustrated huff.
“It’s only a hunch,” he says. “But I want to find out. I just don’t know how.
” He sighs. “It was a fool’s hope, really.
I’ve spent months trying to learn more about the Tempestade’s research, but it’s locked within The Shield’s computers, which I could never hope to access.
I thought joining the Storm Guard might make it easier, but that was naive.
I’d have to move much higher up their ranks, which will take years. ”
We both fall silent, listening to the crackle of the burning logs.
“Do you think if we could prove to the world that we’re something else, it might protect us from the Extinguishers?”
“It might,” he says.
“And you really think it’s possible we’re immune to the infection.”
“I’m surer of it every day. But we need proof. No one would believe us otherwise.”
“And The Shield could be concealing this information.”
“Someone must know, and that seems the most likely place to start.”
I consider everything he’s saying. I’ve lived in fear for most of my life. Hating what I am. Hating myself for not being brave enough to turn myself in.
But what if I only seem like the thing they all fear? What if I could escape this curse?
“Anyway,” Rook says. “I have no clue how to access The Shield’s computers, so it’s likely impossible.”
“The Shield’s computers. That’s what we need?”
“Yes, but . . .”
I jump up and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Rook asks.
“I’ll be back soon. I have an idea.”
. . .
The first thing I do is text Edward. We’ve been messaging, while I’ve been checking on him a few times a week to ensure he’s okay.
I feel terrible that we haven’t spent more time together.
He was Trinity’s boyfriend, but we were friends, too.
I don’t think Trinity was obligated to stay with him if she was no longer interested, but I also think she owed him more than cutting him off without a second thought.
Or maybe I’m just bitter about the way she abandoned me, too.
I find him sitting in a quiet corner of the cafeteria with his shoulders hunched as he picks at his food. He still looks terrible—thin and tired and pale—and I sit down across from him as he peers up.
“Hey,” he says sullenly, stirring his noodles with a listless motion.
“Hi,” I answer. “How are you doing?”
He shrugs and slurps down a spoonful. “How does it look like I’m doing?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You deserved better than this.”
With a sigh, he plants his elbows on the table. “Have you talked to her?”
“Not much,” I say. “Honestly, we’ve really drifted apart. She’s busy with her new friends.”
“I don’t understand what got into her.”
“People change, I guess.”
“I wish . . .” He trails off and stabs a cherry tomato with his fork with such force that it goes flying off the plate. It barely misses my shoulder, sailing past and landing on the floor.
“I miss her,” he says so softly that I barely hear it.
I slide my hand across the table, just within his reach. “I miss her, too.”
“Is she seeing someone else?”
I swallow the thick knot in my throat. I know this answer will hurt. “She might be.”
He drops his head into his hands, and I give him a moment to collect himself. I watch a few people enter and leave the room, some of them tossing glances in our direction. I’m sitting on the Fiama side of the hall, and it’s likely only a matter of time before someone makes it an issue.
“How are your classes going?” I ask. “You’re not skipping school because of this?”
His jaw tightens. “So what if I am?”
“Edward, Trin wouldn’t want you to screw up your future because of her.”
He shrugs as if he doesn’t believe that. Then he picks up his fork and aims for another tomato, securing his kill.
“I was,” he says, popping it into his mouth. “At the beginning, I was skipping classes, but they called my mom, and she tore me a new one.” He winces. “Skies, sometimes I forget how loud she can yell.”
I snort because the image of Mrs. Chu’s furious face feels so . . . normal.
“She can be terrifying,” I agree, earning me a small laugh.
He tips his head and peers at me. “You’re doing okay?” he asks carefully.
I shrug. “As good as I can be.”
“How’s cadet training?”
“It’s pretty good,” I say honestly, and he offers me a tentative smile.
“I’m glad. I’ve always considered you my friend, too.” He shoves another forkful of noodles into his mouth. “So why did you want to talk to me?”
I inhale a deep breath. I need him to trust me, given the scant details I can offer. “There’s something I need. Some information.”
“What kind of information?”
“The confidential kind that can probably only be found in The Shield’s computers.”
He frowns at me. “Are you in trouble, Poe?”
“Maybe. Sort of? Possibly yes.”
His brows draw together. “I’m going to need more than that.”
I check to make sure we’re completely alone, then lean in. “I need some information about the Tempestade’s research and what they have on Spark Keepers.” My voice drops with each word until I’m mouthing them by the end.
Edward’s eyebrows shoot up, his rolling gaze swinging around the room.
“Don’t say anything,” I plead. “I’m begging you.”
I don’t think he’d turn me in.
“Poet,” he hisses.
“I know, I’m asking for the world, but this is important. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Edward assesses me, his shoulders relaxing after a moment. “Even if I agreed, I can’t hack into those computers. It would be a suicide mission. We’d have to do it remotely, and I don’t have the equipment I’d need to cover our tracks.”
His words are full of skepticism, but I can tell he’s already thinking about the possibilities. The challenge. Edward has always loved a puzzle, after all.
“Could you get the equipment?”
“Possibly, but it would be difficult. It’s not something you can just walk into a store and buy. I’d have to piece together various parts, probably build the entire thing myself. And all that would raise a lot of questions. Ones I’m assuming you don’t want to answer.”
His look is pointed as I huff out a breath of frustration. “There has to be a way.”
“If I could access them from inside the Citadel,” he muses, twirling his pasta and taking another bite, “then I could find out anything in those computers.”
“Inside?” I ask. “As in, break into The Shield’s security wing?”
He chews thoughtfully. “I didn’t say break in, but it’s interesting that’s where your mind went first.”
I frown. “How else would we do it? Ask nicely?”
He levels his fork at me. “You have a point.” Another twirl of spaghetti finds its way into his mouth as I cycle through a million ideas.
I recall the House Asale scion with his key card accessing the communications wing.
Would I dare ask my father?
No, I couldn’t.
I’d have to steal it.
Interesting how quickly my mind went there, too.
“What’s that look?” Edward asks, chewing and circling the tines of his fork at my face. “You’re planning something.”
“What if we could break in?” I ask. “Forget the logistics of it. What if I could get us in there? Would you do it? Could you do it?”
“Why, Poe? I could be arrested. You would be, too.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But I’m in trouble. Someone I care about . . . someone I love is in trouble. If we don’t find what we’re looking for, then I’m scared of what our futures hold.”
He studies me with his dark gaze, something flitting across his face. “You’re the only person who’s given a shit about me since Trin and I broke up,” he says. “No one else has checked up on me or asked how I’m doing.”
“Oh,” I say, confused by the shift in conversation. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and wipes his mouth on a napkin. “No, I mean, I appreciate it. I’m grateful that you didn’t forget me, too.”
“We’re friends,” I say.
“Will you tell me what specifically I’m looking for?”
“I think we should wait until we’re inside. Just in case.”
He nods as if that’s the answer he expected.
Then he sets his fork down before wiping his hands.
He looks around the room, his gaze sliding over the other students, eyes darkening.
I peer over my shoulder, noticing that Trinity has entered with her new friends.
Another recruit has his arm around her shoulders—not the one I met on the boat, a new guy—and it’s obvious by their body language that they’re more than casual acquaintances.
I turn around to look at Edward, his brow lowered as he works his jaw. I have no idea what to say.
His gaze meets mine.
He shakes his head, and I think he’s about to get up and walk out, but something shifts in his expression.
Uncertainty morphs into determination. Like he just came to some kind of conclusion.
Then he levels me with a look.
“Fuck it. If you can get us in, and this information exists, I’ll find out whatever you want.”