Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I tiptoe over and phase through the window gap, partly so I don’t risk waking Kelda and partly because there is no sense hiding it anymore; it’s out there, and there’s some small sense of relief in that.
Halle sits, curled into a ball, soaking in the dry, heavy warmth of the afternoon and staring up at the deep-turquoise sky.
She looks tired still, pallid underneath the light olive-tan of her skin, soft shadows under her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask as I sit beside her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I didn’t want to wake up Kelda.” Halle’s eyes trace the wispy white clouds floating far above our heads.
“I was just thinking about Mama and how she used to tell us we didn’t need to worry because she was so tough she could punch lightning.
I always thought it was just a wild overexaggeration.
Like a tall tale or something. But I guess it actually wasn’t, was it. ”
“No,” I say, even though it’s not really a question. She already knows. “No, it was kind of true.”
A tense silence settles between us, making the hot air feel even thicker, despite the blustery wind that whips through Concord from the Copper Plains.
I study the little town’s rooftops and quiet roads, not really sure what to say next, but in the end, I don’t have to. Halle breaks the silence first.
“You know what bothers me the most? All these other people knew. Orion … That girl Dani … They knew what you were and what you could do, and me and Kel?” She finally looks at me then, anger and unshed tears glimmering in her eyes.
“We were just totally in the dark. Even after Papa died and Mama went prophet and you were all we had left.”
“I know. I’m—”
“Sorry, yeah.” She swipes the tears dry, turning away again. “I know. I get it.”
I’m not ready for this conversation. I thought—I’d hoped—I’d never have to have it, but it’s here anyway. And it’s Halle. I owe her something, even if I’m not sure that it’ll fix anything.
“The Butcher was … this whole other person for me. Like a face I got to take on and off. It made it easier to handle what I did because I could keep it separate. Val didn’t do those things; the Butcher did.
Val wasn’t a killer or a murderer; the Butcher was.
” I take a deep, shaky breath and swallow hard, fighting the urge to curl my hands into fists, to pull all my limbs in tight, to protect myself.
Too many years spent propping up walls inside.
“I thought if I could keep Val’s life and the Butcher’s life completely separate, you and Kel would be protected.
Saved from ever having to know about it. But I was wrong.”
Another quiet beat stretches out between us, and I wonder if she’s done talking, if she wants me to go. But she finally turns to me again, her eyes studying me, a little furrow between her brows.
“What does it mean anyway?” she asks. “The fact that you’re storm-touched, you’re a saint, but you never went with the Archangels to the Gate of Heaven. I thought all saints had to go, that it would be bad or dangerous somehow if you didn’t.”
I rub my hand over my short hair. It’s grown a little bit, almost long enough to grab ahold of now. I’ll need to shear it again soon. “I don’t know. Dusters aren’t even supposed to become saints in the first place. Maybe I’m a mistake. Maybe I don’t count.”
“Or maybe that’s what that flare was.” I shoot her a confused look, eyebrows raised, and she shrugs. “It’s got to be connected to you somehow, right? You knew it was coming. Maybe Trinity is reacting to you or something.”
I’d never thought about it in that way. When had Halle gotten so wise? So perceptive? Why did it seem like she had become so much older in the few days we had been apart?
Something about the way she says that—Trinity is reacting to you—puts an idea in my head.
All this time, my plan was to get my sisters back and carve out a new life for all three of us together, somewhere far away.
But the Archangels are after me. Trinity might be reacting to me.
Maybe it would be better if I didn’t go with them, especially with good people like Orion and Atlas around to look out for them.
It wouldn’t be hard for me to sneak away, maybe steal one of the mounts or jump on a lightningrail that’s passing through.
Or even just turn myself in, if it comes to that.
But you lied to us, Val. And worse than that, you left us. You pulled away when we needed you the most.
Halle’s words. From back in the Shipyards.
Even just the memory of them is harsh enough to savage my insides.
Ever since Mama went prophet, I’ve been making choices, choosing our path, never asking my sisters what they wanted.
If I take off now without telling them, even if it’s for the right reasons, it’ll be the same betrayal all over again. Lies. Abandonment. Pulling away.
I chance a quick glance at Halle, but she’s deep in thought and I can’t read her expression. If this is really about them and not just me, I have to at least give her the option.
“If you want,” I say, my voice just a little too hoarse, too choked, “you and Kel can stay here with the Bookers, and I can go. Anyone coming after us would follow me. You guys would be safe.”
Halle doesn’t answer right away, and dread kicks my heart down into my stomach.
“No,” she finally says. Relief and surprise wash through me, and Halle rolls her eyes, waving me away dismissively. “It would make Kelda too sad, is all. I don’t care or anything.”
I duck my head as a small smile creeps onto my face. I’ve known Halle all her life—too well to be fooled by her playing at indifference. Which is fine. She’s still mad at me; I get that. But she also still wants me here, with them, and that means something. That means everything.
Halle grabs my hand suddenly, squeezing it. “Val, look.”
I tilt my head back, following her gaze, and suck in a breath.
There’s a magnastorm forming above us.
Silvery clouds pour out of a crack in the sky, spreading in a ragged, unfriendly circle. The center of it flickers with pale-green lightning once, twice, and then the lightning reaches splintered fingers downward. They flick across the air, touching down outside of Concord.
I reach an arm across Halle’s body, nudging her behind me, back toward the window. Putting my body between her and the storm.
Webs of lightning lance down again, hitting a statue in the middle of town, sending up a shower of sparks, but then the wind kicks up and drives the storm clouds before it, moving it off north and east until it’s no longer visible.
Halle lets out a breath and sinks back against the window frame. I keep my eyes on the sky, still tense, still tasting ozone and metal on the air. Trinity’s song keens in my bones, the same tempo as my racing heart.
“Try to go get a little more rest,” I tell Halle. “We need to be leaving soon.”