Chapter 35 #3
He was staring at me with the expression he had when he wouldn’t be swayed from a decision he’d made.
He had the same expression as when he’d first decided to be my friend.
He’d worn it when Luvic told him not to approach his father and he’d gone anyway.
It was the same expression he’d worn the first time he told me he loved me.
There was nothing on earth that would change his mind.
Suddenly, I wanted to kiss him. I desperately wanted to press my lips to his mouth no matter how much it hurt, no matter the cost. I shook my head and turned away.
I hopped down from the rubble and picked over the tracks. The musty scent was clearing, swept back by the wind blowing through the tunnel. There was an area ahead where a number of tracks converged. One of the tracks was in use. We’d follow it to the working station.
Finn hurried after me, and soon, we were at the intersection. There were old platforms, metal columns, a half-dozen tracks, and the hum of florescent lights.
We had only minutes before we reached the station.
The itch traveled up the back of my neck again, raising goose bumps. I swung around and pointed at Finn. He stopped, surprised.
“Why are you covered in illusion?”
He blinked. Frowned. “I am?”
I pressed my lips together. “What happens if I unravel it?”
“I don’t know.” He thought about it for a moment, then he added, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”
I tugged at one of the knots and let it slip free. He flinched and sucked in a hard breath.
“That hurt?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”
I frowned. Tugged another knot free.
He jerked as if stung by a bee. “Mari.”
I pulled another knot—a Lark’s head—yanking it loose. He flinched again, his face bleaching of color. He was so pale he looked almost translucent.
“Mari, stop.”
His words hit me, and I shook my head. There was something wrong here. This was Finn. But if it were Finn, then why was he drenched in illusion, and why did it hurt him when I pulled the knots free?
There was a lie here somewhere.
If I stayed, someone was going to get hurt. Him or me.
I didn’t want to hurt him.
I turned and sprinted down the tunnel. Finn rushed after me.
In a race, Finn was faster. He had longer legs and more power. But this wasn’t a race; it was a ducking, dodging, jumping scramble through an old train tunnel.
“Mari, wait!”
I didn’t. I jumped, sprinted, and ran toward the light.
I passed the interchange and kept running, ducking down the used track. I heard Finn behind me, jumping over the tracks, his footsteps pounding on the concrete.
Then, suddenly, all sound from him stopped.
Was it a trick?
“Mari!”
I kept running and looked over my shoulder.
Finn was caught in an illusion. It was a simple trap. A Bard trap. A blood knot, a simple overhand, and a bowline.
I gasped and stopped running.
He was sinking into the concrete. While I watched, he sank from his calves to his waist. The track was illusion, and the trap beneath it was illusion.
It was like a mudflat, swallowing him whole.
He struggled, sinking faster. Then he pressed at the ground, trying to boost himself free, and the concrete swallowed his hands.
He looked at me, his forehead wrinkling. He wasn’t exactly worried. Finn didn’t get worried. He thought of a solution, and then he pursued it with all his will.
“Conjure,” I called, inching away.
His jaw clenched. “I can’t.”
Oh. His hands were trapped. They’d already sunk to his elbows.
“Mari. Help me. Please?”
I frowned, taking another step back. Then I paused, searching Jagger’s will. It remained silent. I could free Finn or leave him. It was up to me.
I smiled. I’d free him.
“Okay.”
He smiled back, nearly glowing with happiness at my acquiescence. It was as if he were silently saying, “I knew you were still in there.”
I was moving to untie the knots when I heard the wind tunnel whooshing with an approaching train.
Its light flooded the tunnel. I looked up in shock.
I’d forgotten we’d merged onto an active track.
The train would hit Finn in seconds. Its speed was so fast there wasn’t even time for it to sound its horn.
The roar of it crashed over me.
Finn’s eyes widened, and he called, “Mari!”
He jerked, trying to tug his hands free. He sank deeper, the concrete swallowing his abdomen. The train was feet away. He thought I could untie the knots. He thought he could leap free.
But I saw what he didn’t. If I untied the illusion, then the track would also untie. Fifteen feet of track, a swath of concrete—an entire substructure—would disappear. If I untied the trap to save Finn, the train would crash.
How many people were in it?
I’d ridden night trains. Sometimes, there were ten people. Sometimes, there were fifty or a hundred. If I saved Finn, I would kill a train full of people.
I didn’t know them.
They didn’t know me.
If I left Finn to die, they would never know the sacrifice. They’d just continue on, completely unaware he’d died beneath the train. They might feel a bump. A jostle.
He’d already sunk to his shoulders. They might not feel anything at all.
A train of people, or Finn.
His face was pale, his expression haunted.
I held out my hand. Started to untie the first knot. I had seconds to save him.
But then I stopped.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
If I saved Finn, I may as well let Jagger devour everything good inside me. I may as well climb the subway tunnel stairs and destroy the city. I may as well be the monster Jagger said I was.
The train’s roar swallowed me, and its wind shoved at me.
Finn’s eyes widened when he realized I wasn’t going to save him. He looked over his shoulder. The train was only a moment away. He turned back to me, and while I expected to see anger, or rage, or fear, I only saw love.
The train slammed over him. Uncaring. Unstoppable. Not realizing it had just ended a life. I cried out, and the violent wind of the speeding train threw me against the concrete.
My head slammed against the wall. I was swallowed by the shriek of the train and an avalanche of pain.