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“Nope.”
“You’re human—”
“No.”
“Your life—”
“Was dull and uninteresting. My cat is with my neighbor, and my plants will be taken care of until my things are discarded because I haven’t paid rent. Don’t worry about me. I’m an adult, I am making this decision of my own free will, I am of sound mind and body, blah blah blah,” she said dismissively, waving me off.
“What was that about?” Neo asked from behind me.
“I was trying to get her to stay, because I think Sariel and I have overstayed our welcome,” I said. “None of you have to come with us. I mean, this place is good and safe. You’d be able to find a place here.”
Neo’s brows furrowed. “You mean me, too?” he asked incredulously.
I glared at him.
“Aria, if you think I’m leaving you with a half-fallen angel that tried to kill me for something trivial, you’re mistaken,” he stressed.
“That was somethingyoustarted,” I reminded him.
“That’s besides the point. I’m coming with,” he said, eyes boring into mine. “And if you kick up a fuss, I’ll follow you anyways.”
“Neo—”
“And foryour information, Jonathan and Marilyn are also going to come along, because the Resistance might be a safe space for them, but America in general is not.”
And he was right about that. The couple had looked at me like I’d grown a second head when I’d suggested that they remain here for their own safety
When I met up with Sariel and the Director, the others had since convened and followed after me.
“I told him we were leaving,” Sariel announced.
Neo hummed. “And by ‘we,’ you mean all of us, right?” he asked, motioning to the six of us.
“Yes…?”
My frown deepened. I tried to stifle the little shoot of happiness that was threatening to sprout in me at having them with us for the journey. “You don’t think they would be safer here?”
“No,” Sariel and the Director answered simultaneously.
I sighed. “Fine. Now, that contact that you have? We’d like it, please.”
The Director paced the small space we’d gathered in. “Getting into the colonies might be difficult. For some, it would even be impossible to reach the contact,” he admitted. “This might be a shot in the dark for you, but neither I nor the Head can think up any other option that might keep both the Resistance and you safe in America.”
“Have you met the Head?” Sariel asked, eyes narrowed. “You seem to communicate with him often.”
The Director stared at him for a drawn-out moment, something like mirth flashing in his gaze, and then he shook his head slowly. “We communicate via text. He created an app that allows Resistance members to text each other regardless of where they are in the world. Only we can access it. It requires a registration code that each member is assigned upon official initiation. Calls and texts all come through the app. His voice is usually distorted; I do not know much about him except that his pockets are bottomless and he has an appreciation for fine art.”
“And you don’t find that even a little bit suspect?” Sariel pressed.
The Director’s expression shuttered. “Whoever he is, he’s saved millions of lives. I will not question him, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t, either.”
I squeezed Sariel’s arm. “Understood,” I answered for him. “That contact?”
He reached into his kimono and retrieved a worn card. There was a symbol I didn’t recognize on the back. “Have it,” he said, handing it to me. “I believe they have recruiters in every major city in America. I’ve already memorized everything on it.”
I flipped it over to find a number and an address. There was no name, but this was all we needed anyway.
