Page 166 of Storm Caller

“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.

58

“Scion Graves,” Ada says, her wild gaze darting around the room. She steps in front of us, her arms held out as if she can single-handedly shield us from his sight. “What are you doing here? How did you find us?”