Island of Shipwrecks (36 page)

“Yes, of course.” Liam stood. He dropped his eyes. “I'll be going, then. Thank you for the, ah, the drink.”

“What?” Alex asked. “Where will you go?”

“T-to the Ancients Sector,” Liam said. “That's where I've been sent.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. He'd forgotten the strange ways people thought in Quill. “No, Liam. Don't be ridiculous. You will not go back there. We'll—we'll find you a place. Somewhere. Here or in Quill.” He looked at Ms. Morning, letting her make the call.

Ms. Morning sighed. “Fine. You can stay here, of course. Then you'll be closer to your children.”

Liam looked at her in alarm. “My—
my
children? The girls aren't mine! They're Alex's. I thought . . . I thought you all knew that.”

Alex's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Samheed raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. Oh dear.” Liam grew pale. “Y-you didn't hear this part? About the wall—and your parents? Oh my, I'm afraid I've quite bungled this. . . .”

“My parents?” Alex stared at Liam. Then he slowly turned to peer into the hospital ward where the children were being cared for, and slowly turned to look at Liam once more. “Explain, please,” he said in a terse voice.

Liam wavered. “Oh dear. Alex,” he said, “I'm so very sorry. I have some, ah, some horrifying news.” His mouth went dry, but he pressed on. “When the last of the wall collapsed, it fell inward on the workers, and it crushed three rows of Necessary houses. Your parents were both . . . killed.”

Alex continued to stare.

Liam swallowed hard. “Oh dear, you don't know a thing, do you. I'd thought—I'd thought you'd have had contact with them by now.” His eyes darted around, making sure no one was about to attack him, and chastised himself under his breath. “You see, Alex, the children are your sisters. Twins, just like you and—” He stopped.

Shock registered on the faces all around.

“And, well, since Aaron is . . . ah . . . ,” he added weakly, and then finally he gave up trying to be sensitive and blurted out, “You're their only kin. You see?”

In the long moment that followed, Alex appeared to have
turned into a stunned statue. No one else moved either.

“You're saying my parents are dead,” Alex said finally, “and I've inherited these screaming babies.” It wasn't a question. He shook his head slowly in disbelief. First Meghan, then Aaron, then this craziness . . . it was all too much. What was Alex supposed to do with two helpless babies on top of everything else he had to do?

“Yes,” Liam whispered.

“No,” said Alex. “I do not accept this. Not any of it.” And then, without another word, he turned and walked up the stairs.

Simber started toward the stairs to follow him, pain and worry etched on his stony face, but Ms. Morning touched his shoulder. “Let him go.”

The cat frowned. Every instinct he had urged him to go after the mage. But sometimes Claire understood human things better than he did. He stood at the base of the staircase for a long moment, and then he bowed his head and returned to his spot by the door.

A
lex stared unseeing at the library shelves in the Museum of Large, trying to process everything he'd been through in the past few days. He still couldn't believe Meghan was gone forever, along with ten other Artiméans. Then his brother was kidnapped, and Alex had no idea where he could be. Then Liam told him his parents were dead, and he had somehow inherited two crying babies that he'd never laid eyes on before.

He closed his eyes and gripped the shelves, wanting to pound his head against the wood, but ultimately deciding to rest his forehead against it instead. Meghan had been the
closest thing to family Alex had known for years. Ever since Alex's parents had told him that he was Unwanted at age ten, they'd distanced themselves from him. He'd always pretended it didn't hurt, because that's what a good Quillen would do.

And now Meghan was gone, his parents were dead, and Aaron . . . Alex squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to tamp down the pain and tears, but his breathing grew heavy and wretched, and before he could pull himself from the grip of reality, he found he was hurtling toward it. He cried out in anguish—a deep, ugly groan that began at the depths of his gut and burst from his throat, and then he dropped to the floor and pounded it, sobbing incoherently about the unfairness of life and his awful childhood.

Growing up in Quill, being taught not to feel—those lessons would never quite leave him completely, no matter how hard he tried to forget them. He hated Justine for it, and Aaron, and all of Quill for inserting their fears and rituals into his mind. He hated his parents for it. Even in their death, he hated them.

As he sobbed, feeling terribly sorry for himself, it began to occur to him that maybe the only reason he was so troubled by
the injustice of growing up in Quill was because he had experienced life differently since then. He'd experienced something that his parents and Aaron had never known. And that maybe, if he hadn't been Unwanted, he'd have been just like them.

“I wouldn't!” he said, but immediately he doubted himself. And then he began to regret that he'd never reached out to his parents from Artimé once he'd had the chance. He'd always thought of it as their job to come to him if they wanted to see him, and they'd chosen not to do it. They'd chosen to let him be sent to his death, and they'd chosen to stay in Quill once Artimé was exposed. That was their decision! Even when Alex saw his father near Mr. Today's grave, Mr. Stowe had hurried away from him, as if Alex were somehow dangerous. What was Alex supposed to do? Beg? After what they'd done to him? But he'd never asked. And maybe they assumed Alex would hate them. They'd have been right.

Maybe if he had invited them to Artimé, they would have come. But he hadn't, and now they were dead.

His heart tore anew when he thought about Aaron. Aaron had been close, once. Close to joining Alex in Artimé. He'd been tempted—Alex had seen it in his eyes. But when he'd
reached out, Aaron ran the other way. It was too late for him.

Alex sometimes wondered what would have happened if he'd let Aaron get the infraction. Would Aaron have turned out differently if they'd both been Unwanted from the start? Would they be friends now? He'd never know.

“You're so stupid!” he cried into the floorboards, and then he pounded them once more as another wave of anger and remorse flowed over him. “Aaron,” he pleaded now, “you had so many chances. So many.” He grew quiet as the waves of emotion softened. “And I never let go of you. How could I?” He lay there for a moment, as pain began to swell inside him, this time sharp and physical, like half his soul was breaking away, being torn from his body and hovering just out of reach. Alex gasped in agony and surprise and pushed himself to his knees, holding his side where the pain ripped through him. A revelation came over him as he knelt there, alone in the stacks, clear and vivid as any dream, and as certain as the pain that split his soul.

“He's dying,” he whispered. “Right now, this minute, he's dying. Oh, help me. Someone . . . anyone . . .”

A
lex pushed through the pain and tried to take hold of the truth—his brother was dying, and he was never coming back to Quill. But the pain in his side remained sharp and steady, no matter what Alex tried to do. He stared at the library shelves and tried to focus, but he wasn't making much progress.

Soon, after pasting the 3-D door in her bedroom, Lani showed up, and together they sorted through piles of books, making hardly a dent. It was easier with Lani there. And it was nice to spend the time in silence, or chatting now and then about things other than death and dying.

Finding no luck after a day or two, Alex asked others to join them in the search. Samheed and Carina helped Sean up the stairs and through the traditional way, and Sky came with Lani through the 3-D door.

Alex was glad to have Lani take charge of the organizing. He remained quiet, mostly, preoccupied with the pain that never left his side.

In the evening, after the others left, Sky stayed with Alex. The two sat shoulder to shoulder together on the museum floor, in silence for a while, until Alex couldn't hold his thoughts anymore. They came pouring out.

Sky listened. And listened. And listened. All night long, until years' worth of Alex's private thoughts and feelings and actions were strewn out across the endless floor like the scattered piles of books. Stories about his parents. Stories about Meghan and her bravery. And stories about Aaron and what life was like for them in their little dusty room in Quill that was now demolished, buried under tons of rubble.

They talked, and dozed, and sorted, and talked, and dozed some more, until Lani returned to start a new day of work and shooed them out to get something to eat.

And while Alex and Sky wolfed down a most delicious breakfast at the kitchen bar, Florence wandered in, saying over her shoulder, “Come on little ones. Let's get a snack.”

Behind her, the twins toddled, laughing and trying to keep up with Florence's long strides. One wore purple, the other red. When Florence noticed Alex and Sky, she grinned and picked up the girls, which made them laugh harder, and set them on the countertop near where Alex and Sky were sitting.

Alex, nervous, sat back in his chair. “Uh, hi there.”

Florence pushed the girls toward Alex and guarded the edge to make sure they wouldn't tumble off. “These are your sisters. As you can see, and as I'm
sure
you were wondering, they are doing quite well now after a few days of spoiling by the nurses.”

Alex managed a weak grin. “They look . . . fine,” he said. “Nice. I mean, I don't really know anything about babies.”

“Carina and the nurses think they're probably a little less than a year old.”

“Oh,” Alex said. “That's . . . a good age.” He didn't really know what to say.

One of the twins leaned forward and stretched out her
hand, trying to reach Alex's face. He backed up, and she took interest in his plate of food instead. She grabbed a crust of toast and shoved it in her mouth.

Sky laughed, but Alex looked at Florence in alarm. “Is she—is that—?”

“She's fine. She just wants to share your snack.”

“Okaaay.” Alex frowned.

Sky tore off a crust of bread from her plate and offered it to the other twin. “What are their names?”

Alex looked up, curious. “Yeah,” he said. “What are they called?”

Florence shrugged. “No one knows, and we don't want to stir up any suspicion in Quill by asking around, since we don't want Gondoleery to know they're here and alive. I think you ought to give them a fresh start, Alex.”

“Me?” Alex sputtered. “I don't know anything about that. You guys just go ahead and do it.”

“Alex,” Sky said, disgusted, “don't be ridiculous. They're your sisters. And,” she added more gently, “it's pretty likely the longer Aaron is gone that you're all the family they have left.”

Alex cringed as the pain in his side throbbed. He knew deep inside him that something terrible was happening with Aaron, but what? If he was dead, would this pain last forever?

Florence leaned in. “Even if Aaron returns, you have a chance to give them the childhood you never had. Aren't you excited about that?”

Alex flinched. “That's a fine point, Florence, and you know I want that, of course.”

Sky squeezed his knee under the counter. After their long talk last night, she knew as well, now.

Florence tipped her head, waiting. “Well, then. You should name them.”

“All right,” he sighed. “Let me think about it, though.” He peered at the girls as if seeing them for the first time, trying to figure them out. “It might take me a few days to come up with some options.”