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Talia surveyed thelaboratory. “Why haven’t the plants taken over this room?”
“It must be the blue radiation,” Luke said. He was stationed at the doorway, pruners in hand. From time to time he executed invading foliage with ruthless precision. Somehow he had managed to achieve a deeper shade of grim. His eyes were cold and dark. “It looks like the same energy in the stones used in the garden paths and the conservatory.”
“I heard Finch tell Keever she thought the plants were getting stronger,” Phoebe said. “She had to use the spray a lot at night to keep the doorway clear.”
“The plants are certainly aggressive,” Talia said.
She and Phoebe were sitting on the edge of the cot that the Night Gardener had used, drinking bottles of water. They had found the water and a stash of energy bars in one of the cupboards. Phoebe and Luke had both eaten two each. Talia had resisted, but she was getting very hungry.
Luke was unusually quiet. She didn’t have to be a mind reader toknow what he was thinking. With the death of Pomona Finch he had lost what was no doubt his best hope of discovering more about what had happened to him during his lost night.
She knew he had paid attention when she gave him the stern little lecture informing him that he was not a real-world example of the Jekyll-and-Hyde syndrome, but she was afraid that, deep down, he wasn’t entirely convinced. The Night Gardener’s assumption that he was the one who had slit the throats of the two researchers had reignited his fears and questions.
Luke sliced off the tip of a creeper and glanced at Phoebe. “Are you sure that the plants will be calmer in a few hours?”
“I think so,” Phoebe said. “I overheard Keever and Pomona arguing because she wanted him to modify his work schedule. She said he would have to start spending more time down here due to the changes in the behavior of the specimens. I could tell he did not want to do that.”
“Can’t blame him,” Talia said.
Phoebe watched Luke with a wary expression. “You did something to Finch, didn’t you? At the end, when she ran, she was terrified. Is what she said true? Did they really try to make you into an assassin with psychic powers?”
“Theytried,” Talia said before Luke could answer. “But you heard Finch. He’s a failure.”
“Are you sure?” Phoebe asked, clearly uneasy.
“Of course I’m sure,” Talia said. “Luke isn’t an assassin. Think about it. If he had the power to actually kill someone with psychic energy, he would have killed Pomona when she threatened to use that weed killer on us.”
Phoebe got a thoughtful expression. “But the bottom line is that Finch is dead.”
“Not because Luke killed her,” Talia said.
Luke looked at her, and she read the truth in his eyes.I could have killed her.
She shook her head. “But you didn’t.”
Puzzled, Phoebe looked first at Luke and then at Talia. “What?”
“It’s not important,” Talia said.
Luke used the pruners to amputate a green tentacle studded with needlelike thorns. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“Longer than you know,” Phoebe said. She glanced at the old-fashioned windup clock on the workbench. “I’ve lost track of time, but before Finch gave me the last dose of sedative she said that the gardens down here don’t operate on a standard twenty-four-hour cycle. Nights are a lot longer than they are on the surface.”
“Well, damn,” Talia said. “I guess I’ll have to eat one of those dumb energy bars.”
She got to her feet and walked across the lab to open the cupboard Finch had used to store the water and snacks.
Luke’s brows climbed. “What have you got against energy bars?”
“Everyone needs a motto,” Talia said. “Mine isNever waste calories on boring food. Energy bars are at or near the top of the list of the world’s most boring foods.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Clive was dead.So was Keever. And now the couple in cabin eight was missing. Nathan Gill had told everyone that he was going to check on Rand and March, but Octavia was certain they would be found dead—assuming they were found at all. Bodies were very easy to hide on Night Island.
She tightened her grip on the knife and sliced the plum tart into serving-sized pieces. Rand and March had been fools to return to the cabin. They should have joined the others in the lobby.
She set the knife down and began to pipe whipped cream onto each serving. Her hand shook, causing her to create a less-than-perfect swirl on the first slice.
