34
The text comes through during lunch. I show Rook the message, and we have an entire conversation without saying a word. I lift my eyebrows, which he correctly interprets as Do we really have to do this? He shrugs, telling me, I’m not sure we have a choice.
He isn’t wrong.
We’re a month into our second year of classes, and Edward still hasn’t returned.
I’d ask General Sol about it, but all we’ve received is the occasional disappearing message.
She tells us she’s working on a plan to get us to the roof of the Citadel and to keep our focus on the Extinguishers, Trinity, and the cure.
And that’s what I’ve been trying to do, but Trinity doesn’t seem to have a clue. So far, my careful prying has turned up nothing. I don’t think it’s because she’s hiding anything. I think she truly just doesn’t know.
That leaves Lieutenant Dire.
Garret. Like I ever needed to know his first name.
I text Trinity to tell her we’re in, and then Rook and I arrive at the Grotto later that night, decked out in club attire.
By that I mean I’m in a sparkly crop top and miniskirt, and Rook is in his usual black T-shirt and pants. He still puts every overdressed peacock here to shame.
The underground club is accessed through a staircase at the end of a busy plaza lined with restaurants and bars. If I weren’t already hesitant about this entire scheme, heading underground would be enough to put me on edge.
I pause at the top of the stairs, and Rook takes my hand.
“C’mon, it’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”
I give him a grateful smile, and then we make our way down to a wide circular doorway flanked by two burly men.
They say nothing as we pass, though they eye up Rook, recognizing him for the potential threat he is. But they don’t stop us. Maybe they sense they’d be on the losing end in a fight.
We head down another staircase and emerge into a large cavern that’s been converted from an old train tunnel. Music echoes off the low stone ceiling, vibrating through my feet.
The most surprising sight is a crystal-clear pool carved into the center, lit from within. People sit along the edge, dangling their feet in the water, drinks suspended in their hands. Low couches and tables line the perimeter, and it doesn’t take me long to spot Trinity in the far corner.
“This way,” I say, taking Rook’s hand and leading him across the club.
“Poe!” Trinity says, hopping up from where she’s sitting beside Dire to throw her arms around my neck. “I’m so glad you came.”
I do my best to return her hug with the appropriate level of enthusiasm as I feel Rook’s hand on my hip, reminding me he’s here.
“Hi,” I say. “Sounded like fun, so how could we resist?” I gesture to Rook. “Plus, I don’t think you two have officially met.”
He holds out his hand, and Trinity takes it.
“That’s right,” she says. “I guess we haven’t. Poet has only told me a little about you.”
Rook doesn’t smile. He simply nods. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”
His tone is light, so I’m not sure whether he means to make it sound like an accusation, but Trinity’s face flushes.
“Well, we’ve been best friends forever,” she says, trying to cover up for the awkwardness that squats between us.
“Right,” Rook says. Part of me wants to remind him we’re trying to get on her good side, but the other part is touched by his anger.
“So, you two are . . .” Trinity says, tipping her head. “Together?”
I swallow an irritated knot in my throat.
The reason she hasn’t heard much about Rook is that she never asks.
While I’ve listened to her prattle about her Extinguisher friends for the last month, she’s largely ignored everything going on in my life.
Part of me is fine with it, because I don’t really want to tell her anything about Rook, but it’s also hard not to think she’s a little self-absorbed.
I’ve been trying to recall if it was always like that between us, and I’ve realized that it was.
“We are,” I say, hoping my tone suggests she better not make a big deal about it.
She hesitates, several clear and judgmental thoughts passing over her expression.
“That’s nice,” she answers after a moment, though it sounds clumsily insincere. “You also haven’t officially met Garret!”
She bats her lashes and falls into the seat next to him, clinging to his arm.
“Garret! This is my friend Poet!” Trinity declares, as if he doesn’t know exactly who I am.
As if he didn’t drag a crying Trinity into a room full of people and squeeze her throat while she accused me of being the most dangerous thing in New Manhattan.
As if he wasn’t the one who escorted me to a trial that would decide whether I lived or died.
He disentangles himself from Trinity’s hold, assessing me. “I remember,” he says, so at least he isn’t pretending. Then his gaze swings to Rook. “And your Solitude friend.”
“Rook,” I say.
“Rook,” he repeats and then nods, though I sense no judgment from him.
Ironic. “Join us. Have a drink.” He leans over, scoops his glass off the table, and takes a long sip of what looks like whisky.
His dark hair is slicked back, and instead of his usual uniform, he’s sporting a fitted white T-shirt and jeans that reveal a body sculpted over plenty of hours in the gym. “We’re celebrating.”
“We heard,” I say. “Congratulations.” I hope it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels.
According to Trinity’s texts, he’s been promoted to captain thanks to his tireless efforts to apprehend Keepers in connection with more murders happening throughout the city.
I wonder how many of these people are truly a threat or if the accusations are just for show.
I’ve heard enough circulating rumors to suspect that innocent people are being rounded up.
“Thanks,” he says. “It’s about fucking time.”
Then he reaches across the table, and I nearly flinch before realizing he wants to shake my hand.
“No hard feelings, hey? I was just doing my job.”
I feel Rook stiffen beside me, and it takes me a moment to catch my breath.
“Right,” I say. “Of course.”
I accept his hand, and he grips mine firmly before pumping it up and down.
I kind of want to throw up.
“We’re all just trying to keep everyone safe,” he adds.
“Sure,” I say. “No hard feelings.”
Then he breaks into a grin. “Please, sit and have a drink with us. I insist.”
I share a glance with Rook, and we settle across from Dire and Trinity.
“What was it like for you on the outside?” Dire asks, directing the question to Rook.
I know he doesn’t want to answer, but he sits forward, clasps his hands, and drags up a few lies to confirm the version of the Wastes everyone in this room expects. A home that’s barely a home. A life lived on the edge. He plays it up so beautifully that I almost have to stop myself from laughing.
I guess I should know better than most what a good actor Rook can be. I shove the thought aside, reminding myself that I believe everything he told me. That I trust him. That he had no choice but to keep the truth from me, and all his reasons were valid.
While Rook and Dire chat, Trinity scoots around the bench, moving closer. She’s holding a glass of something bright green, and I can tell from the flush on her cheeks that she’s already had a few.
“You still haven’t heard anything from Edward?” I ask. We’ve discussed his absence a few times, and I’ve been both surprised and not surprised by her complete lack of concern.
“No,” she says. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“You aren’t worried?” I ask.
I know where he is—sort of—but Trinity has no clue. Isn’t she wondering?
“Of course I’m worried,” she says, though she doesn’t really sound it.
While Trinity and I talk, Rook nurses the drink in his hand while refilling Dire’s glass more than once. Our plan is for Rook to get Dire to talk while I distract Trinity. He’s a big guy, so it’ll probably take a lot for him to really loosen up.
“So,” Trinity says. “Tell me more about him.” She gestures to Rook. “You’ve been very quiet about this.” Though I can tell she’s attempting to strike a casual air, there’s a pointedness in her words, as though she’s upset with me for withholding information she never actually asked for.
I shrug, reining in my annoyance. “We got to know each other last year,” I say. “He helped me when my new House pushed me down the stairs. I had nowhere else to go.”
Her expression falls. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard. I would have been in the same boat if I didn’t have my squad.”
My smile is forced as I nod. “I’m glad they were there for you,” I lie.
She beams and takes another sip. “It’s so affirming to finally find somewhere I belong. I was so sure I wanted to join the Patrol, but the switch to Aria opened up an even better possibility. Failing that first test turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Do you really feel like you belong?” I say. “You’re happy with this decision?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe after what happened to me, you might consider that there could be other ways to deal with Keepers.”
Her eyes narrow at that. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I was scared for my life. I ran because I thought no one would listen to me. I thought I was as good as dead. Do you think other people have felt that way, too?”
She goes quiet, studying me carefully, and I understand I’ve broken a rule.
I wasn’t supposed to talk about this. I was supposed to pretend everything was fine.
But maybe, while I’m trying to find the cure, I can also find a way to cure my former best friend of her fanaticism.
I thought it would be easier to give up on someone I loved after she hurt me so much, but a part of me still feels responsible for her.
“It’s for the greater good, Poet. If a few people are wrongly accused for our safety, then it’s a small price to pay.” She pauses as she looks me in the eyes. “To believe anything else is treason.”
She blinks, and I blink, and then I nod. “Of course. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Besides,” she says. “You had an entire trial to prove your innocence. Most people don’t get that. You’re always fine, Poet.”
She says it wearily and with a touch of bitterness.
But I also know she’s right.
“I got lucky,” I say.
“You’re always lucky, aren’t you?” she asks, tipping her head and giving me a tight smile. “My lucky friend.”
Then she squeezes my hand, but I sense no sincerity in the gesture. Is she actually jealous of me? If only she knew the truth.
I remember what General Sol said about the Extinguishers recruiting the weak-willed, and I wonder how I could have missed who Trinity was for so many years.
We’re both silent for a moment, and I notice Rook and Dire talking intently. I hope that Rook is getting something useful out of him. Dire’s expression is animated, with an intense “man-to-man” focus on Rook’s every word. He also appears to be getting pretty drunk.
Rook picks up the bottle again and refills Dire’s glass almost to the top.
“Anyway, tell me more about the E-squad,” I say, turning to Trinity, drawing her focus away from Rook. “You’ve never told me what you learn in training.”
Though I hate what she is, I have to admit I’m also curious.
She shrugs. “We learn a lot about the infection and how it works in the body. How to recognize the signs in someone.”
“Oh? What signs?”
“Mostly when the mental deterioration starts to happen,” she says. “Keepers are nearly indistinguishable from normal people before the infection spreads, so it’s tricky. Thankfully, we have the blood test monitor now. That helps.”
“What are the signs?”
She flicks me a cautious look. “Curious tonight?”
“I am,” I say, meaning it. What are they taught to look for? “The greater good, right?”
A flood of relief enters her eyes. Maybe she thinks I forgive her for what she did. Maybe she thinks I understand.
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” she says, lowering her voice. “But I can trust you.”
Sure. Okay.
“Apparently, it starts with things like seeing double or talking to yourself. Hallucinations.” She goes on to list other symptoms I’ve never experienced.
So either they don’t really know what it’s like for Keepers and they’re just guessing, or I’m fine, and Sol was right, and the illness won’t affect me.
I’m not sure which to be more relieved about.
“For some Keepers, it can feel like their mind is stretched after they’ve touched Spark,” she says.
“Some of them need it. They crave it, like an addiction. And they’re brainless enough to get themselves caught.
” She snorts and takes a sip of her drink.
“Can you imagine being addicted to something so toxic? You see why they have to be dealt with.”
“Right,” I say, feeling queasy. “So . . . sick.”
Trinity nods, as if that’s the end of that.
I’m not sure I can take any more of this conversation, so I steer us toward more innocuous topics and let her talk about Dire and her E-squad friends.
At some point, Trinity drifts back to his side.
It’s clear he’s wasted, his head dipping as he slides back in his seat.
Trinity is fussing over him, asking if he needs water while he waves her off.
“Ready to go?” Rook asks. I can tell he desperately wants to get out of here.
“Did you . . .” I trail off, but he shakes his head.
“We should go,” he says, then stands up as Dire’s hazy eyes pop open.
“You’re not leaving?” he asks, his speech slurred. He seems truly disappointed, and I wonder what on earth Rook said to him.
“Sorry, man,” Rook says. “Got an early start tomorrow. But we’ll see you around?”
“I’ll be posted at Amery for the foreseeable future,” Dire says. “We should get a drink.”
“Sure,” Rook says, and I have to admire how convincing he is. “I’d love that.”
They execute some kind of bro fist-bump, though Dire misses a few times thanks to his impaired coordination.
We weave through the club, making our way toward the door with Rook’s hand on the small of my back.
“Did you learn anything?” I ask under my breath.
Rook leans in close. “Maybe. Skies, what a fucking loser.”