Chapter 27 #2
Piper’s eyes widen, but she still doesn’t move. Her gaze flicks to me, as if in silent question.
Vale gives me a look that is all ice and steel. “Take off your ringware, wraith.”
I hold up my hands, palms out. Then carefully, I slip my ringware from my middle finger. My hand feels oddly bare without it.
“Visor, too,” says Vale.
No. The word pulses through me strong as a second heartbeat. No, no, no, no.
I can’t. I can’t take it off. Not here, not with—
“Take—it—off.” There is a click as Vale raises her gun. Not toward me—but Nonna.
My stomach lurches.
“Wait,” I gasp. I reach up and unhook my visor from behind my ears. I pull the visor away. I keep my face lowered, angled away from the others.
“Toss both over the railing.” Vale nods at the glass barrier only a few feet away. With a grimace, I do as she says. My visor will undoubtedly shatter, but the ringware might survive a three-story fall.
“Now,” says Vale. “You go and get my daughter. Bring her to me.” Her mouth twitches into a grim smile. Having me—the source of so much irritation and trouble—be the person to deliver Piper is the ultimate victory.
“And if I don’t?” I keep my gaze on the floor.
Vale doesn’t hesitate. “I shoot the old woman. Then, if you refuse again, Will. Refuse a third time, and I kill you last. Then I take Persephone anyway. And I kill everyone in this building, just to remind the world what happens when you come after me.” She holds up her right hand, where her silver ringware gleams. With it, she controls the building.
All it will take is a few gestures for her to start killing people.
So long as she has that ring, she has all the power here.
I rise to my feet. I know she’ll make good on her threats.
I turn toward the others. They’re clustered close together, with Eames standing protectively in front of them. Nonna’s hands are on Piper’s shoulders, keeping her firmly in place.
The only way to save them all is to be Vale’s instrument.
I take a step toward them. Every moment is both too long and too short—I need more time, there’s too much time, and I can barely form a thought.
Then Eames is in front of me.
“Augusta,” he says softly. It’s a question and a plea, all rolled into one word.
There are no barriers between us now—no glass visor, no lies, no hesitations. I reach out and place a hand over his heart. “Trust me,” I say, so quietly I can’t be sure he hears me. I can feel his heartbeat beneath the cotton of his shirt.
He doesn’t answer, but his head twitches in the barest of nods.
I step around him. Toward Piper. Toward Nonna.
And Nonna sees me.
No visor, no mask.
Just me.
Her lips form a name I haven’t heard in three years.
She doesn’t say it aloud. That’s the only reason I don’t shatter.
Her face is written in lines of disbelief and a terrible, yawning hope.
I meet her eyes. That thread of shared memory and love and family tugs at my ribs, opens up a familiar ache.
I can’t give her any reassurance or explanation.
I can only hope that she sees me and understands that I’m doing my best.
I put my hands over hers.
“I need you to let go.” The words are the slightest of whispers. It’s all I can manage.
Nonna’s eyes never leave mine. She is drinking me in, her lips parted as though she wishes she could say a thousand things at once.
I swallow thickly. “I love you.”
Then I slide her hands from Piper’s shoulders and take the girl by the hand. She looks up at me, her face scrunched with confusion and fear.
I know the feeling. I step back, wrenching my gaze from my grandmother. From the only family I’ve seen in years.
And then I lead Piper to the mom she has been running from.
It feels like walking a condemned man to the gallows. Every step is heavy, and I want nothing more than to turn away.
Vale only has eyes for Piper. She looks at her daughter not unlike the way Nonna gazed at me: all yearning and earnest hope. It makes Vale human for the first time since I met her. She’s a bad human, but she’s still human.
“Percy,” says Vale, and there’s so much love in that single word that Piper’s eyes overflow. But she cringes when Vale reaches for her.
I inhale deeply, then look back over my shoulder. Nonna and Eames are frozen. I try to memorize them both, to trace the lines of their faces, to remember every detail. I want this moment carved into my memories, so if all else is forgotten I’ll still have it.
Checkmate.
“Activate repair mode Rho-Zero-Nine!” I say. I remember doing this only yesterday—those two boys, the vanilla doughnut, the coffee shop. It feels like a lifetime ago.
At once, Vale’s ringware blinks red and opens for its repair mode. Open—and vulnerable. All it needs is water to short it out.
Vale flinches. She whirls on me, but I’m already moving.
I crash into her. Her spine hits the railing and she falls over backward, her fingers clawing at my shirt. For a moment, she’s suspended in the air. Far beneath us, the pool gleams a light blue.
A three-story drop.
My center of gravity tilts, and I’m halfway over the railing before I can draw another breath.
If she goes, I go.
Well. That was the trade.
Someone screams behind me.
And we fall together.