54
A few nights later, I wait behind the rock wall as the sky tumbles with amethyst clouds, waiting to see if Rook saw my message and understood.
I need to see him. I need to tell him what’s going on.
My anxiety isn’t helped by the fact that I’m desperate to touch the storm.
With my legs tucked up and my arms wrapped around them, I watch the sky as the breeze tugs my hair.
I imagine that I can smell the universe on the wind.
All those people and cities and worlds. The undiscovered places I’ll probably never get to see.
I wonder if there’s a girl just like me out there, wondering where she belongs, waiting for Spark.
Every few seconds, I check behind me, hoping he’ll appear.
The storm draws closer, drifting toward the city in billowing waves that bloom across the sky. I think about that night on the Tower, how powerful it was. I’ve always understood the storms are deadly, but that night was a reminder of how much of our existence is tied to their mercy.
When the first burst explodes in the distance, I stand up, trying to get closer.
I don’t call to it yet. I’m waiting for him.
Tingles spread over my scalp and down my back, ending at my fingertips.
Again, I check for Rook. If he were coming, surely he’d be here by now?
More explosions flash against the horizon as my heart begins to sink.
He’s gone. I’m certain of it now.
He’s on his way back home. Soon, he’ll return to his parents, and they’ll welcome him with open arms.
I vow to finish this. I’ll get the cure to them somehow.
It’s the least I can do after they allowed me into the Veil as an outsider and an enemy.
I couldn’t stop The Shield from killing those people, but I can try to help those who still need it.
I don’t know what any of this means for me, but all I can do is take it one day at a time.
The storm circles over the city, and I tip my face toward the clouds.
I thought we’d do this together, but maybe we’ll never touch another storm hand in hand.
I think about something my mother said once. About how a parent never knows the last time they’ll tuck in their child at night. Or carry them in their arms. One day, they’re asking to be lifted for a cuddle, and the next, they’ve outgrown it.
I guess in the end, we never really know when our last cherished moment with someone will be.
Another cloudburst erupts across the sky, and I sense the roiling of the storm. The way its power doesn’t just belong to the sky but is fundamentally tied to who I am.
I understand now that it feels me, just like I’ve felt it for so many years.
We’re symbiotic. We need each other.
Maybe being a Caller isn’t about using it but rather feeling it.
Allowing it to become a part of me.
I stretch my arms out as it flows through me, my feet grounding me to the earth.
And then someone takes my hand.
I jump and then spin around as my heart stops.
“Rook?” I ask, hardly daring to believe that he’s real.
“Poe,” he whispers, and then I throw myself at him.
He wraps me in his arms and squeezes me tight.
“You’re here,” I whisper over and over, running my hands over his shoulders and jaw and arms. “You’re here.”
“I got your messages,” he says. “All of them. I’m sorry I couldn’t reply.”
“I just hoped you were reading them.”
He’s kissing my nose and my cheeks, my forehead, his hands cupped around my face. I close my eyes, trying to commit everything about this moment to my memory forever.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he says. “I can’t stand being separated.”
“I thought you left,” I say. “I thought you’d gone home.”
“And leave you here?” he asks, tucking back a lock of my hair. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you don’t belong here,” I say. “Why would you stay when they’re lying about you and hunting you down?”
His expression softens, and I’m tempted to ask him to stay long enough for me to count every freckle dusting his nose and cheeks, just so I can be here with him forever.
“Poet, I would never leave you,” he says, his voice turning rough. “You are where I belong. You are where I will always belong.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest.
“You’d be safer if you left,” I say. “But the very thought . . . Skies, I thought I might never see you again. Where have you been?”
“I got to know the tunnels well when I was searching for answers last year. There are a hundred places to lose yourself underground.”
I clutch him by the shoulders. “So much has happened, and I had to tell you. I’m sorry. This was risky.”
I can’t seem to catch my breath as Rook takes my hand and draws me down onto the rocks. The storm is still tumbling, more bursts exploding in the distance.
“Slow down,” he says. “Start from the beginning.”
We face each other with our legs crossed and our knees touching. I tell him everything we learned from Dr. Mowry and how Edward is working to access the research files.
Rook nods as I’m speaking. “And what else?”
“I spoke to your father,” I say. “I’ve been staying with Domino, but I needed to feel closer to you, so a few nights ago, I slept in your bed. Your phone rang, and it was your dad . . .” Tears fill my eyes as I take Rook’s hand. “They attacked a Whisper Sanctum. Your brother . . .”
My words trail off as he squeezes my hand tighter. “Beckett?”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as he drops his head, taking a minute to stare down at his lap. I wish there was something I could do to make this right. To make any of this okay.
I reach out and cup his cheek. He looks up at me, his eyes glassy in the dim light.
“After he was taken away, I often wondered if I’d ever see him again,” he says. “If I’d ever get the chance to really know him. The madness took him so early . . .”
He looks away, blinking rapidly before wiping his nose with the back of his hand and sniffing. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Those bastards. Those people were harmless. Completely at their mercy.” He faces me again. “What’s my father’s plan? He won’t let this go unchallenged.”
“They’re coming,” I say. “His army. Your army. Lieutenant General Rey. Navy and Justin. They plan to attack.”
His face resolves into hardness as he nods. “As it must be.”
“People will die, Rook. Innocent people. I know what The Shield did was wrong, but . . . is this really the only way?”
“What would you have them do, Poet? Allow them to get away with it? Let it go? This was nothing but pure, vicious violence for the sake of it. We have to fight back. If we don’t, they’ll only come harder for us next time. Our only defense is to remind them that we aren’t weak.”
“I know,” I whisper, dropping my hand. “I know.”
“Will you sound an alarm?” he asks. Months ago, we sat in this very spot when Rook reminded me that someday his people might come and take everything from us.
That we were sitting on opposite ends of a divide.
I dismissed it then, sure that we could work out whatever might come.
I realize just how truly naive I was being.
“I want to tell the Fog. And Domino. My parents.”
Rook nods. “I understand. Your father will alert The Shield once he knows.”
“He might, but Summit said it wouldn’t matter. They’re coming, and there’s no way to stop them.”
“He’s right,” Rook says. “This is too big to ignore.”
I look up, peering at the sky and clouds still churning over the horizon.
Rook shifts closer.
“Have you touched a storm?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“It’s been too risky.”
He rubs my cheek and leans in, his mouth brushing mine.
A cloud rumbles overhead and breaks apart.
I call to it, and I think Rook does, too.
We kiss as it hits us, enveloping us in the bliss of the moment.
I gasp as he pulls me closer, and I straddle his hips as his tongue dives into my mouth.
I feel the Spark traveling over me, melting into my pores, sinking through my skin as my brain and my heart and my lungs float through my blood.
It almost feels like we might levitate off the earth and soar across the sky like shooting stars.
He moans as he kisses me harder, and we’re surrounded by the plasma arc. I feel my hair rising and the crackle of static. Waves of light and love and hope flow through me as I think about a future where we can do this freely, without living in fear every single day.
A moment later, the arc winks out, and slowly we pull apart, both of us breathing heavily.
“That feeling right there,” Rook says. “That’s how I feel every time I look at you. Never forget that. You’re the one who lights up my darkness, Poet Graves. Nothing will change that.”
My throat is too tight to speak.
“I should go,” he says softly. “I need to keep moving.”
I nod, trying to stem a flow of tears burning in my eyes. “I hope I didn’t put you in danger, but I had to tell you.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says.
“What comes next?” I ask. “Where do we go from here?”
“We need that cure,” he says. “Once I have that . . .”
“You’ll leave,” I whisper, my voice so raw it burns.
“That was always the plan,” he says. “You know that.”
“I do.”
“My offer still stands,” he says. “I want you to come with me.”
I roll my neck. “I know you do.”
And I leave it at that. I can’t tell him that I promised myself I wouldn’t leave my mother. I have to find a way to protect her. We’ll have time to figure this out later. I hope.
Then he leans over and presses his mouth softly to mine one more time.
His kiss is gentle. Careful. An image surfaces in my thoughts of a delicate crystal orb, so thin it might shatter with a breath.
I imagine that’s who we are right now, and that no matter how hard we try to protect it, the world will do its best to shatter what we’ve built.
He pulls away, and I slide off him before he climbs off the rock.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says, fusing the words with certainty.
No room for questions.
I nod as he turns away. I hope that’s true.
“Rook?” I ask.
He turns back. “Yes?”
“Just in case . . . promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t leave without saying goodbye first.”
He pauses, his chest hitching with a sharp breath.
“I promise.”
Then he disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone.