57
It takes only a few hours for word of the Veil’s attack to filter through the city. My father must have alerted everyone the moment I left.
News reports are running around the clock, warning people to stay alert. Every member of the Patrol and the newly formed Border Brigade is assigned to a twenty-four-hour perimeter watch.
Scouting parties estimate the army of the Veil is only a day or two away.
New Manhattan is taking a defensive position, claiming we’re strongest inside the city and that we have everything we need here. Every able-bodied citizen is called to take up arms and defend what is ours or die trying.
The chancellors and General Sol regularly appear on the newsfeed, telling everyone they have nothing to fear.
That we are ready. That they will defend us against this attack.
It’s a reminder of why the Solitudes could never be trusted.
They tried this once, and left to their own devices, they will continue trying to claim what’s rightfully ours.
It’s time to stamp them out for good.
Meanwhile, the Fog hasn’t deviated from its mission.
They’re still focused on gathering proof of The Shield’s lies and obtaining the cure. Edward has been working tirelessly to find a way to access Mowry’s research.
It’s early morning when the first alarms go up, blaring across the sky.
The Veil has arrived.
Immediately, I head for the roof of Amery, peering out into the brightening darkness. At first, I see nothing. The clouds tumble overhead, flashing with green light.
An Emerald Storm is brewing.
They’ve always been considered lucky, so I’m not sure if that’s a good omen or not.
Whose side will luck favor in this fight?
The wind whips around me as I wrap my jacket tighter. I have Rook’s second phone clutched in my hand, waiting for Navy or Justin to call. What if they didn’t make it? What if something happened?
I watch the horizon as the first black dots appear in the distance.
The sight sends a chill snaking down my back as the wind kicks up and emerald-hued clouds tumble in giant puffs.
The first few drops of rain fall against my cheeks, cold as ice.
With my heart in my throat, I stare out, waiting for the Veil to draw closer.
Down below, people are running for cover, heading into the underground as they’ve been instructed.
I watch the lines of Patrols in their dark-blue uniforms entering the streets, marching down the boulevards in neat rows.
Behind them comes the Border Brigade in their hastily gathered, mismatched tactical gear.
The Storm Guard is already manning the Towers, ready and waiting.
I wonder how far the Veil will get.
The Brigade is new, barely trained, cobbled together to answer a threat.
The Veil has been shaped in fire under the guidance of High Commander Summit Athira, and they have a purpose. They’re here for justice.
New Manhattan’s armies defend an empty shell they’ve been told to protect.
If I were a betting person, I know who I’d put my money on.
The soldiers of the Veil arrive from three directions—north, west, south.
I wish Rook were standing beside me, so we could face this together.
When the phone in my hand rings, I stare at it for several seconds before answering. “Hello?”
“Poet?” comes a female voice I recognize immediately.
“Navy,” I breathe. “Thank Skies you’re here.”
“They still have him?”
“Yes. I don’t know how much longer we have. They might kill him . . . or . . .”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll find him. Where should we meet you?”
“Can you get into the city? The border is surrounded.”
“We’ll find you.”
I rattle off a location, and she disconnects the line. I spend a few more minutes watching the Veil’s approach, then turn around and head through the city to the factory district.
I reach the intersection where I told Navy to meet me, worried they won’t make it past New Manhattan’s line of defense. A few minutes later, I hear the first shots and sounds of fighting in the distance. Stunners and guns. Yelling. Screaming.
The clash of people on opposing sides who should have been working together all along.
Why did it have to come to this?
I’m pacing back and forth when I notice someone drawing near.
Four people.
Someone starts running, and I sigh in relief when I spot Navy.
“Poet!” she cries, throwing her arms around me as we hug tightly. Then I turn to Justin and hug him, too.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say. “Skies, I’ve been so worried.”
Standing behind them are two other figures I know all too well.
Fisher and Calliope are both decked out in the Veil’s uniform and armed to the teeth. They all look pretty intimidating with their leather armor and the dark paint streaked across their eyes. I suspect that was intentional.
“Hi?” I ask. These are the last two people I expected to find on Rook’s rescue team.
“We thought you could use some help,” Calliope says, shouldering her rifle.
I frown. “Really? But . . . I thought you hated Rook.”
Fisher shrugs and offers me a crooked smile. “There’s such a fine line between hate and love, isn’t there?”
“I guess?”
“Fish and Cal are two of the Veil’s best fighters,” Justin assures me. “When they heard where we were going, they insisted on coming.”
I eye them both, still not entirely trusting it. I haven’t forgotten how they arrested us for no reason.
“Family is family,” Fisher says, clearly picking up on my misgivings. “We might have our issues, but the people of the Veil never forget.”
He pins me with a steady gaze, and I suppose I have no choice but to accept. I doubt I can refuse them anyway. “Well, we can probably use all the help we can get. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, who would I argue with if he’s dead?” Fisher asks with a wink. “Apparently, I’ve missed the fucker while he’s been gone.”
I laugh. It seems impossible, but it eases some of the pressure crushing my chest. I would never have thought I could count on Fisher for that.
“Then follow me.”
We make our way toward the Fog’s headquarters, where we find Ada and a few of the others. I make introductions, and at first, I can tell each side is a bit wary of the other, but we all want the same thing.
“Everyone get over it,” I say when no one speaks. “They’re here to help.”
Ada blinks and nods. “Of course. Welcome. We’re happy to have you.”
“So what’s the plan?” Navy asks. “Where’s my brother?”
“We haven’t been able to determine his exact location, but our best guess is that he’s in one of the Tempestade holding cells, along with everyone else they’ve arrested,” Ada replies.
“The cells have been heavily guarded until now, but with the arrival of . . . your people, we’ve confirmed they’ve had to withdraw much of their force to meet the threat. ”
“Perfect,” Justin says. “Then what are we waiting for?”
“Me,” says a voice from the corner. Edward sits at his computer, typing a million miles a minute.
He’s wearing his headset with a microphone and is leaning toward his screens, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“I’m trying to access the cameras so we can get a better picture of what we’re dealing with, but their security is locked tight. ”
“Where’s Domino?” I ask, searching the room. We parted ways at Amery earlier this morning, while I waited for Navy and Justin, and she went ahead to see how she could help.
“She’s with the team we already sent in,” Ada says. “A few dozen of our members will try to break everyone out while The Shield is distracted. They’ll search for Rook and your other friend, too, of course.”
“I’m in,” Edward announces from his corner. We turn to see the screens surrounding him flicker to life, revealing black-and-white footage of the Tempestade holding cells.
We all gather behind him as we watch. Dozens of people flood down corridors and hallways, clashing with the occasional Patrol officer or Extinguisher. I frantically scan monitors, searching for signs of Rook, Journey, or Domino, but it’s hard to keep track of everything happening.
“Head count,” comes a voice over the speakers after a few minutes—one I recognize as Chandler’s. “We’re at seventy percent. They’re claiming a few were taken away over the past week.”
A few more minutes pass as prisoners are rescued and escorted out of the building.
“We have everyone,” Chandler says. “Except Rook. No one has seen him. They don’t think he was ever here.”
Navy takes my hand and squeezes it as I choke on the dryness coating my mouth.
“Keep looking,” Edward says into the mic. “There’s another level below you.”
As Edward types, the screens continue flipping. I catch a glimpse of Domino hugging Journey, and my eyes flutter closed with relief.
“Thank Skies,” I whisper to myself. We found her.
Chandler crackles over the line again. “He isn’t on this level, either,” he says, sending my heart into my throat.
“Rook,” I whisper again. “Where are you?”
A few more minutes pass as Edward directs the rescue team to another level, then another. Empty. It’s all empty.
Chandler stops in a hall and peers up, staring straight into the camera. “He isn’t here,” he says. “We’ll search lower. Brooklyn’s coming with me.”
Then he disappears from the screen.
“We should go,” Justin says. “We can help.”
Edward raises a hand as he types furiously on his keyboard with his other. “It’ll do no good if he isn’t there. I’ll try the rest of the Citadel.”
Justin’s jaw hardens, and I can tell he wants to argue, but Navy squeezes his shoulder and then loops her elbow through his, offering assurance.
I watch as the screens continue to flip, cut off, and blink into focus. Various rooms and hallways. Different floors of the Citadel. If Rook is somewhere in that building, Edward will find him.
Another ten minutes pass. I’m so tense that my jaw aches from clenching it and my hands have gone numb.
While Justin paces, Navy chews on her lip, her arms folded tightly. Fisher and Calliope lean against the wall, their eyes darting back and forth as they confer in low voices.
Chandler comes on again. “Not down here, either. Is there somewhere we haven’t considered?”
Ada leans forward to speak into a secondary mic standing up on Edward’s desk. “We have the blueprints. There are no other cells in the building.”
“Not a cell, then,” Henry says. “Somewhere else?”
“Nothing is coming up,” Edward says. “Most of the building is empty. All I can find are the chancellors and their personal guards.”
“Where’s the general?” I ask. “Out on the Towers?”
“I can check,” Edward says, typing away. We cycle through the various Tower feeds, but nothing comes up. He flips to the top of the Citadel. Also empty. “I can’t find her, either.”
“Rook must be with her,” I say, suddenly sure of it. “She wanted him for some reason. That’s why she orchestrated this entire thing. Tricked us into coming back. Arrested him. She needs him.”
“For what?” Calliope asks from the corner.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure.” I chew on my lip, trying to remember if she offered a clue at some point.
“Where’s Dr. Mowry?” I ask.
“In the second bedroom,” Dr. Eze says. “Why?”
I turn around, march down the hall, and slam open the door.
Dr. Mowry sits chained to the bed, staring out the window.
He jumps as the door crashes against the wall.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“What?” he asks, his heels scrabbling against the bedspread.
“Where has she taken him?”
“I don’t know what—”
“You reacted when I said my name,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “You looked at my hair. You know what I am. You refused to tell us anything, then suddenly you wouldn’t stop talking. What are you keeping from us?”
Dr. Mowry opens his mouth, fear seeping into his bloodshot eyes.
“Tell me the truth!” I scream. “Do you know what I am? Do you know about Rook?” I stomp over and grab him by the shoulders. “Tell me! Where. Is. He.”
Someone is trying to pull me off, but I resist, yanking myself from their hold.
“Tell us! Where is he!”
“Poet!” Hands cage me with a strong grip. I realize it’s Henry. “You have to stop!”
Dr. Mowry opens his palm and holds it up, the cuffs around his wrists limiting his movements. “Please, let me explain.”
It takes me a moment to go quiet. I stand over him, my chest heaving.
“I will tell you everything. The truth this time, but you must swear to get me out of New Manhattan.”
“What truth?” Henry asks.
“I do know what you are,” Mowry says, addressing me. “And why Nyxia needed you.”
“Why?”
He stares at me with deep-brown eyes and then blinks. “A cure . . . for her.”
“For her illness?”
“No . . . not . . . that kind of illness. Not the kind that affects the physical body.”
I put it all together in an instant.
“She isn’t dying,” I whisper. “She’s losing her mind.”
Mowry nods. “The cure I developed doesn’t work on her. I was always skeptical that it would. She knew the infection would come for her someday, and when her own research proved fruitless, it was Nyxia who came to find me and convinced me to return in secret. She demanded my help.”
“She’s the one who’s been keeping you prisoner?” I ask, horrified for so many reasons.
His breath hitches. “Yes.”
“Why did you lie to us?”
He shrugs, his chains jangling. “I was trying to buy her some time. I want her to find an answer. I want her to be happy.”
“Even though she kept you as a prisoner?”
“Even then.”
“So do you have a cure or not?” Ada asks.
“For Keepers, yes.”
“And for the general?”
He shrugs again. “We needed another Caller. Someone with the same ability. The Keeper cure is derived from their stem cells. So, it stood to reason that a Caller cure might be the same.”
“Rook . . .” I whisper, clutching my stomach, close to throwing up. “What’s she doing to him? Where is he?”
“You’ve been working in secret on this?” Ada says. “You were doing additional research?”
Dr. Mowry sighs and nods.
“Where?” I ask.
“You already know where.”
“The facility Edward read about.”
He nods. “I’ll explain how to find it, but then I must leave. You’ve kept me here long enough.”
I defer to Ada and Henry, because this is their call. “We’ll consider it,” Henry says, handing him a tablet. “You can start by drawing us a map.”
“None of this makes any sense,” I say. “Why lure us back here? Why not just take us? She has an army under her command. Why did she give us that whole story about taking over for her?”
Mowry glances up at me, but he doesn’t get the chance to reply.
“I think I can answer that,” comes a voice, and we all spin around to find someone standing in the doorway.
Someone not a single person in this room would ever expect to see.
“Dad?” I ask.