“The guys are within radio space of Vonn’s team,” he says. “Letmeworry about this, okay, Lindley? Try not to think about it. I’ll handle it.”
I have every reason in the galaxy to crave control.
Every reason to want to handle it myself.
But I am not enough.
I am not enough for everyone, at every time, in every crisis—Haven was right, at least about this. I do need help. And I need to learn how to accept it.
“Okay.” My voice is small but clear. “Okay,” I repeat, with a little more conviction. “I’ll try not to think about it.”
“Good.” I hear him tapping rapid-fire on the keyboard, multitasking at its finest. “And Lindley?” There’s a break in his typing, just for a moment. “Go get her.”
I’m shaking as I end the call, my muscles starting to cramp from being held in such a tight, awkward position.Go get her.
The knife carves a more substantial piece from my heart: a block of petrified, tangled roots. Memories. Questions.
I kill this part of myself, because it’s the only way to deaden the nerves, raw and stinging. It’s the only way I can face thetruth without crumbling entirely. And I do need to face the truth—
For Sailor, Emme, Nieva.
For Jaako and Kerr.
For Mila.
For those who will be next, if I don’t put a stop to it.
This. Ends. Now.
65
ECLIPSE
STARBOARD-SIDE LAB: EVEN from outside its glass doors, clear and sparkling, row after row of illuminated pillars cast an eerie glow on the otherwise pitch-black room. Not a hint of shadow mars the perfect white light; wherever Haven is, she must be deep in the forest.
I press my back to the cool steel wall just outside the door, collect my breath. Now that this moment is here, all I want is to never have to face it. What do you say when someone you’ve known forever reveals herself to be skin and bones and cobwebs? Did she ever truly have a soul, and if not, how did she hide it? If so, where did it go? When she looks in the mirror, does she feel remorse for the terrible choices she’s made?
Or does she only feel alive?
My lashes flutter closed, and I will my eyes dry.Be strong for the station, I tell myself.Be brave.
I’m not so much afraid of dying—it’s looking in her eyes that’s hard to think about. Looking inside, searching for any sign of the friend I thought I knew. Finding her already dead.
I take a deep breath and tap in my entrance code. A blast of cold air escapes as the doors part, like it can’t leave the room fast enough. I slip into the shadows, let the doors seal me inside. I’m here, and I’m not leaving until this is over. Even if she does show a hint of compassion, humanity, remorse—what then? How am I to know it’s real, and not just another false act of desperate self-preservation?
And what will I do with her when I find her? I’ve focused so thoroughly on discovering the truth that I didn’t stop to think about how to ensure justice. This is unprecedented on the station, really. I don’t remember anyone ever having to face serious consequences for anything. Perhaps I can send her down to Nashville, let the board figure out how to deal with her. Or, worse: perhaps I could send her with Vonn.
If I can just make it to the lab station, I can check the tablet to confirm my suspicions—that she’s at pillar F23,Atropa belladonna. Because why else would she be here? Not for witch hazel, certainly. I can’t remember ever telling Haven about Yuki’s nosebleeds, now that I think about it. A shiver raises the hair on my arms. Maybe Heath told her?
The spotlit lab station isn’t far from SSL’s entrance, but it’s not terribly close, either. Nothing will hide me except darkness until I’m there, and then—if Haven happens to look that way at just the right moment—I’ll be bathed in bright light.
On second thought, maybe I should head straight for F23: in the forest of pillars, at least, I can hide. I can slip out of sight, disappear in the darkness.
If only I remembered, for sure, how to find the pillar I need.
It is utterly silent in this room, and I make myself a ghost: I match her, silence for silence, as I edge toward the first row. The pillars are arranged in a large grid, more than a hundred in each row, planted evenly from this end of the room all the way to the far side.
I take careful steps, seeking out the deep-black shadows between pillars where their glow doesn’t reach. My reflection is distorted in every curved bit of glass, and my eyes are too bright, like I’m starry-eyed with hope, when what I truly feel is the precise opposite. I’m almost afraid to breathe, for fear of giving myself away; I get light-headed quickly from all the shallow breaths, dizzy from all the paranoia.
