Something flutters to the floor between my bed and the wall. I lean over and snatch it up. A notecard, pale yellow paper with a watercolor lotus in the background. I’d recognize it anywhere—Fatima always used these cards around the office.
It only has one word on it in her looping, beautiful script: Outside.
9
Istare at the note. How long has it been waiting? I didn’t see it when I stormed in after my confrontation with Juno, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t here. It must’ve been tucked under my blanket up toward my pillow.
Fatima got in somehow and left it for me. The when and the how don’t matter as much as the why. Is it a trick? Like Juno, this new version of Fatima is an irritating mystery. We have a past, but the present is something completely different. Whatever trust used to exist is twisted and confusing.
I chew what’s left of my thumbnail as I flip the note over once, twice, and again—looking for some secret message somewhere on it. But the message is loud and clear: go outside.
The sun’s been up for at least an hour as I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what to do. My options are slim. I can alert Druin to the note, and then I’m certain he’d forbid me to investigate. Or maybe he knew the note was here? He’d aided Fatima before. Somehow, though, I don’t think he knows about this. He would’ve said something or stolen it outright so I never saw it.
My other option—asking Juno for advice—is dead and buried. No chance I’m asking her a damn thing.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, then rise and go to my closet. I grab a sweater and slip on some shoes, foreboding making a home in my gut as I try to guess what sort of trap this might be.
Following the note’s instructions is a bad idea. That’s never stopped me before.
I ride the elevator up, fully expecting it to jolt to a halt while Druin yells at me from somewhere below. It doesn’t. Either he took my advice and went to sleep or he’s just now discovering I’m gone.
When I get a glimpse of sunlight shining through the doors leading to the garden, I close my eyes and inhale. You don’t realize how much you miss the sun until you’re deprived of it. I used to spend all my time looking through a microscope or working in a lab. I took the sun for granted. Not anymore. Never again.
I push out of the garden doors, my eyes burning from the brightness as I enjoy every bit of warmth and light as it hits my face. The air is dry and crisp, coated with winter chill. I inhale deeply and wait for my vision to adjust.
One thing is certain; Fatima isn’t out here. Not on this gorgeous, breezy day. No clouds, birds chirping in one of the leafless trees, and the direct sunlight that warms my skin.
I pull my sweater tighter around me and venture forward. The fountain is quiet, and I realize the water is frozen along the top layer. Underneath is dark and murky, no frogs or movement to be seen. I keep walking, the dead grass crunching slightly beneath me as I walk to Melody’s monument.
“I wish you were here.” I run my fingers along the top of her flame. “You might be the only one I’ve ever met who could talk sense to Juno. She’s impossible. Even more impossible thanme. But you could do it.” I kiss my fingertips and press them to the stone before turning and scanning the rest of the garden. A breeze rustles along the high grass and through the skeletal orchard, all the leaves creating a brown carpet on the unkempt grass.
When I reach the statue of Valen’s mother, I see a tree branch has fallen across it. There must’ve been a storm or high winds, though no sign of it made it into the depths below. I grab the thickest part of the branch, yanking a few times to tear it free from the trunk where it splintered. It finally gives way and separates, so I drag it away through the grass, the friction making a hissing, groaning sound. Once I drop it, the sound continues, and I freeze.
Spinning, I shield my eyes and look up. A helicopter glints in the distance, its hum growing louder the longer I stare up at it. It’s aiming right for me and picking up its pace.
“Holy shit.” I have the sudden need to find cover, to run back to my prison and hide. Out here, I’m exposed.
I edge closer to the statue of Valen’s mother, huddling beneath the tree I’d just abused. The helicopter drops lower, then lower still, and finally lands just at the edge of the orchard.
Before the rotors even stop turning, someone jumps out and jogs toward me. Red hair, confident gait, an Atlanta Braves t-shirt and jeans.
“Captain?” I peer out from beneath one of the branches, unsure of what I’m seeing.
“Georgia!” He grins and runs up to me, then wraps his arms around me and picks me up.
I yelp as he spins me around.
He slowly slides me down to my feet, his hands still on my waist. “Let’s go. We can talk once we get back to base.”
“Go?” I take a step back.
“Yes.” He nods, still not letting go of me. “We have a lab all set up and ready for you. I didn’t think this would work, but I’m damn sure glad it did.”
“You’re working with Fatima?” I search his eyes, the familiar greenish blue sparking memories of our time in DC. “Is that what this is?”
“She got in touch, yeah. ‘Working with’ is a stretch.” He shakes his head. “That one’s a snake. Almost as bad as Valen. But she told us you were looking for evac. I didn’t quite believe it, but I stationed a scout up on the ridge just in case she was telling the truth.” He jerks his chin toward the far tree line. “When he radioed that he saw you outside, that’s all I needed. We took off immediately. Didn’t even have time to get my fatigues on.” He tugs on my waist. “Let’s go.”
I take his wrists and push his hands away gently. “I, um…”
