Chapter 37
37
“Do you like it?” Kor asks me. Referring to the new song he just played, which he wrote for me as my eighteenth birthday present. If I didn’t know him so well, his ongoing attempts to win me back into his good graces would have me charmed into a quivering puddle of hormones.
Of course I like the song. It’s gorgeous, poignant, maybe the best thing he’s ever written. But it’s hard to care anymore.
I smile stiffly, and Kor shifts closer while he lazily strums “Happy Birthday,” and I try to find stars in the cloudy city sky.
We’re on the roof of Grandfather’s house, a small, flat spot that can be reached through a window in one of the rarely used guest rooms. Both Kor and I have been so busy—and maybe I’ve also been avoiding him a little—so we haven’t had much opportunity for alone time, but tonight he came over for my birthday dinner, and afterward we migrated up here with a six-pack and a guitar like old times.
But it’s nothing like old times.
I’ve been back for two weeks. Most of which I’ve spent being interrogated by the Inner Chamber. Kor and my mother managed to explain away my actions at the hospital—which wasn’t too difficult, since many from the Inner Chamber don’t even know what’s really going on there—and now my full-time job is gaining their trust while also trying to withhold any information that could be used to harm the Makers. Today involved a lot of questions specifically about the Avant Guard and the mists surrounding the island.
Despite my mission supposedly having been one of the most important in the history of the Families, the Oculus and the Grand Master have remained completely out of everything. I need to find out more about who they are and what they’re up to, but I am the last person likely to get ahold of that information at the moment.
“You seem so different,” Kor says, propping the guitar against the window.
Do I? Maybe being betrayed and abducted by my best friend has something to do with that. But, based on the appreciative way he’s checking me out, he’s referring to my appearance.
I know I look good. Georgie packed up all my stuff and had it sent to me, and she snuck in a few of her custom designs made specifically to my measurements, so I haven’t yet reverted to my old hoodies. And while I used to wear my hair wild and loose or up in a messy bun, tonight it’s in an elaborate braid crown like the styles worn at Genesis. I spent hours following a video tutorial to get it just right. When Sal had seen it, she’d pruned a length of ivy and woven it through the braid.
I’m not the only one who’s changed. Kor’s thinner and paler, and his hair is longer. It all lends him a harshly delicate beauty. But his eyes are as soulful as ever, and I can’t quite reconcile that with what I now know about him.
Kor offers me some of his beer, and I’m tempted to sip. I need the buzz to get through this pseudo-intimacy. But I hate the bitter taste of hops, and dulling my discomfort won’t fix any of this, so I push the bottle away and force myself to sit with my feelings.
I can’t get over what Kor’s done, but I’m profoundly lonely. I don’t have Izzy, I don’t have any of my Maker friends, and it’s really sinking in how much I left behind at Genesis. I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. Since I’ve been back, I tried to reach out to some of my friends from high school, but I was never that close to them to begin with, and after months spent among the Makers, the chasm between us felt far too wide to bridge. I wish I had Georgie, Hypatia, Mbali, even my hoverjoust team. When Georgie sent my stuff back, she also gifted me her hoverboard. I cried when I saw it. I hope my team doesn’t resent me too much for not returning for the rest of the tournament.
I miss Michael, too, but I try not to think about him. It hurts too much. I feel like I let him down. And while I’ll be able to stay in touch with Georgie, and some of the others through her, he feels off-limits.
I toy with the folded loam pigeon in my pocket. It’s the same one Michael gave me all those months ago on the day we met. The Families took it apart and ran all kinds of tests on it, then they asked me to put it back together. I was able to replace the sense and fold it into shape, but I couldn’t reanimate it. Animation isn’t a skill I came anywhere close to learning during my time at Genesis. So it’s just a lifeless origami pigeon now. Useless enough that hopefully the Families won’t notice I stole it back.
Though I don’t know why I even bothered. It’s just a reminder of everything I can’t do. That I can’t go back. That although Michael may have said that if I ever need his help he would come for me, I’ve severed that connection as well.
Dumb dead bird.
I pull my hand out of my pocket before I crush the loam between my fingers.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to have you back,” Kor says. “Once you know how much more is out there, it’s so hard to connect with everyone else.”
I was just thinking the same thing a few moments ago, but when he says it, it sounds so elitist. It reminds me of the way Rafe talks about provincial people. But if I’m going to influence Kor, that’s not the approach to take.
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Everything here feels two-dimensional in comparison.”
“I want to know what it was like,” he says.
So I tell him.
Not the stuff I shared over our video calls and with the Inner Chamber. But all the best parts. Everything I loved.
He takes another sip of his beer, and I’m hit with a strong image from my strange dream weeks ago—that I still haven’t managed to shake—of him drinking a glass of wine. The echoing memory of a crack of thunder sends chills down my spine, and I visibly shiver. Kor puts his arm around me, and the feel and scent of him drive away the dream and conjure up years of longing instead. I let him pull me close, and I rest my head on his shoulder as I keep talking. I tell him about hoverjousting and about watching the animation of a golem I made with my own hands. I feel his breath quicken with excitement when I describe the Valkyries flying.
“You would love it, Kor.”
“I know I would.”
“And yet you want to tear it down?”
“Not at all,” he says softly. So softly. “I just want to share their wonders with our world.”
“Me too.” I feel like I’m so close. That with more time, I’ll be able to make him see. Despite everything he’s done, I can’t help but still believe his heart is good.
Kor takes my hand in his, stroking my scar with his thumb, and even without the beer, I start to feel tipsy.
“Being a Sire has really amped up my creativity,” he says. “Have you always had this constant artistic urge?”
“I guess.” I hear the unspoken part of the question. If you have, then why have you done so little with it?
“That’s not the only constant urge, if you know what I mean.” He laughs.
My face goes red hot. He’s talking about his libido. Because, apparently, Sires are all a bunch of floozies. I had the absolute most embarrassing conversation with Hypatia about it.
“Sires tend to be quite amorous,” she’d said. “Our bodies, like our minds, are primed for creativity.”
Learning about the birds and bees from a fourteen-year-old was… an experience.
“I guess I don’t really have a basis for comparison” is what I say to Kor now, suddenly wishing New York was on a fault line so the chances of an earthquake interrupting this conversation would be higher.
Our cozy sitting arrangement takes on a whole new meaning now that the spill-my-guts-about-how-horny-I-get line has been crossed. I pull my hand away, which backfires when Kor moves his hand to my thigh.
“Isn’t it a rush?” Kor asks, his other hand flaring with the glow of Ha’i. “Knowing your own power?”
But I can’t help thinking about what he’s done to get that power. I wonder whose blood it was this time. Even knowing he needs it to keep himself alive and that it might have been given to him willingly, bile rises in my throat.
He feels me stiffen and sighs. “Ada, I know you’re still mad at me, but can’t you see that it was all worth it? We’re going to change the world. Together.”
Together.
I remember the years of watching him and Izzy go off to train without me. Of watching his concerts and his interviews and the way he leveraged his platform to make other people care. I was never more than a bystander, wishing I could have a fraction of his talents. Now he’s telling me I can have everything I’ve ever wanted. I can make a difference in this world with him.
But I’m starting to realize that I can make a difference on my own.
He’s looking at me like the two of us are the only people in the world in that way that used to make me feel so special and so confused. He does this sexy half-bite, half-lick thing with his lip that definitely has me starting to feel amorous . Classic Kor, trying to play mind games with me. Or maybe this time he actually thinks he wants this to go somewhere. The way his eyes are fixated on my mouth sure makes it seem like he does. Suddenly my heart is pounding, and Kor’s hand is moving higher on my thigh as he leans in.
I’d wanted this for so long.
But I don’t want it anymore.
I push his hand off my leg and shift away from him.
His face falls. “Ada, don’t shut me out. You’re my best friend.”
“You were mine.”
He flinches.
“Sorry, I… That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s fine. I get it.” He stands up. “I have to go and prepare for tomorrow anyway.” His eyes, so intent on me a moment ago, could not be more distant.
“What’s tomorrow?” I ask as he zips the guitar into its case.
“We’re moving forward with the next phase of Operation Genesis.”
“What?” All my muscles tense. I knew that my recent interviews were in preparation for sending a small team to Arcadia. But not yet. Not before I had time to make sure the plan changed . “I thought you said that was scheduled for the fall?” This is bad. Really bad. I rise cautiously.
“Prometheus was pleased with the return of the girl and reciprocated with information that means we no longer have to wait,” Kor explains.
“But this all so fast, and the military is on alert—”
“This may seem fast to you, but I’ve been working with Prometheus for two years. The Oculus has been waiting for a chance like this for generations. We’re hoping to avoid a confrontation, but we’re prepared to deal with the military if we must.”
“You mean, like, fight them?” I can’t keep the horror from my voice.
“Ada, your handful of school friends and whatever pretty face you have a crush on today are not representative of these people. Not all of them are so innocent. Do you understand what’s at stake for our world here? We need access to the scrolls you told us about, and we need to get the Ha’i stone, or at least instructions for how to make one.”
He’s right that I’m unfamiliar with the majority of Maker society. I know things run differently in Avant, and I’ve seen how resistant even the most caring of the Makers are to sharing their knowledge. Access to a Ha’i stone would mean Kor could stop drinking blood and still be well. We could help so many others to be well. Are the millions of people on this planet worth sacrificing a few?
These are not the kinds of decisions I’m equipped to make.
“Besides”—Kor reaches up to grip the silver crucifix at his neck—“we’ve found another universal blood donor, but, let’s be honest, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around. This has to happen sooner rather than later.”
“Kor, we’ll find a way to—”
“My health isn’t what’s important. I’m just one person. Operation Genesis’s success is what’s important now. If all goes to plan, we’ll arrive undetected and go straight for the scrolls.”
Kor climbs through the window and jumps to the floor, then reaches up to help me through.
“The scrolls are in a very public place. It’s a school. There are teachers and children—” I say as I shimmy down. The guest room is dark and crowded and smells of mothballs.
“We’ll be cautious to avoid casualties. But this is too important. Too many years of history have been waiting for this moment.” He turns and makes his way through the obstacles in the room and out into the hall.
Casualties. As I follow Kor down the grand staircase, I feel sick with dread. Who might those casualties be? Simon, on guard at the Ark stairs? Xander at the desk—only a few weeks from giving birth? A bookish Sophist master in the library at the wrong time, sure to get involved because he’s too selfless for his own good?
Would Kor harm them for the sake of his mission? This can’t be the way. These can’t be the right hands to heal the world.
I think of my middle name, Isabella, named for Queen Isabella of Castile. She is still a revered figure in history; there are monuments of her all over the globe. It’s a common name in the Families—who all have a historical connection to her rule—and it always surprised me just how much my Jewish father despised it, how he spit at the statue of Isabella when we passed it in DC. Why had I ever been surprised by that? Her goal of a unified Spain cost tens of thousands of lives and hundreds of thousands of exiles.
The Families claim to have moved beyond their gruesome origin, but how can they not feel the echoes of the past in these choices?
At the bottom of the stairs, I grab Kor’s hand. “I should be part of this. You won’t be able to navigate the island without me.”
“Our new Genesis informant will help us with that.”
“Who is this new spy?” I’ve asked Kor this question numerous times, but he won’t tell me. Even with me no longer leaking information, between Prometheus and this new informant, if I can’t intervene, the Maker world is truly in danger.
“Ada, I told you I’d tell you everything when the time is right.” He kisses my hand and then pulls away, making for the door.
None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me. It’s all my fault. But I can’t stop it without knowing more details.
There’s only one person I can think of who may be willing and able to help me learn more.