Keeper of the Lost Cities (34 page)

“Oh.” He stared at his feet. “Are you okay?”

She choked back a small sob. The words hurt even more to say out loud. “Not really,” she admitted. “But that’s why Fitz and Biana knew before you. Alden told them when he asked how they would feel about me living with them.”

“What?” His voice was so loud half the prodigies in the atrium turned to stare. “You’re going to live with them?”

She leaned closer so he would keep his voice down. “The Council still has to approve it, but I hope so.”

“You
hope
so?” He slammed his locker closed. “Well, that’s just great. You’ll be a Vacker.” He said their last name like it was a bad word.

“So?”

“So, Vackers aren’t friends with Dizznees.”

“I would be—and Fitz and Biana would be too if you made some effort with them.”

“Right.” He kicked the ground. “I don’t get why you’d want to live there anyway.”

“For one thing, there aren’t exactly people lined up to adopt me.” She cleared the bitterness from her voice before saying anything else. “Besides, they’re my friends, Dex. I keep waiting for you to get over this—prejudice—against them, but it’s like you
want
to hate them.”

“I don’t trust them.”

“Well, I do.”

“Yeah, because you have a megacrush on Fitz.”

“I do not!”
Blood rushed to her face. He’d said it so loud everyone giggled.

Dex snorted. “Whatever.”

“It’s the truth
.
And why are you being such a jerk? I tell you my guardians are kicking me out, and you pick a fight with me and humiliate me in front of everyone?”

“Maybe if you’d talked to me first—instead of running to Wonderboy—I could’ve helped. But I guess I should get used to that. Once you’re living there, you’ll ditch me anyway.”

“Right now I kind of want to.”

“Good!”

“Good!”

Dex kicked the wall and stomped away.

Sophie leaned against her locker, trying to figure out what to feel. Hurt, regret, and anger warred with each other, but anger won. She was in the middle of the biggest crisis of her life, and all Dex could think about was his silly competition with Fitz. It made her want to throw something. Hard. At his head.

Instead, she grabbed the illegal necklace from the back of her locker, shoved it in her bag, and stomped to elementalism.

DEX AVOIDED HER LIKE THE
plague for the rest of the day—which was fine. She wasn’t talking to him until she got a
very
sincere apology. Maybe with a little begging. And a present.

She’d planned to stop by Everglen to drop off the necklace, but Biana told her Alden and Della were in Eternalia all day meeting with the Council. So she went back to the cave at Havenfield and tried to trigger memories until sunset. Once again, she found nothing.

She was up in her room transmitting commands to Iggy—her new, very successful method of training him—when Grady knocked on her door.

“Sophie,” he called. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” It was the first word she’d spoken to him since their talk.

He cracked the door enough to slip his head through, looking more uncomfortable than she felt. “Sorry to interrupt. A package arrived for you.”

He held out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. When she didn’t move, he set it on the floor. “I guess I’ll leave it here. Um . . . good night.”

It was easy to hate Grady for what he was doing, but it was also hard. She really did love Grady and Edaline, and she’d thought they loved her. Her eyes blurred with tears as she tore off the brown paper, unwrapping a silver orb and a note.

“You must help them.” Followed by three names: “Connor, Kate, and Natalie Freeman.”

Her hands shook as the silver orb came alive at her touch, the word
spyball
glowing across the center. She’d never seen one before, but she’d heard kids talk about them. They could show you anyone, anytime, anywhere in the world. You had to apply for a special permit to have one. And she had no doubt who’d sent her this one.

Still, she couldn’t resist whispering, “Show me Connor, Kate, and Natalie Freeman.”

Light flashed and the Spyball displayed three people huddled together.

The rest of the world disappeared.

Her mom’s hair was longer, her dad looked a little thinner, and Amy looked older, but it was definitely her human family. Three echoes of a life where she thought she didn’t belong. But they had loved
her—which was more than she had here.

She wanted to reach through the orb and touch them, but she had to settle for watching as they huddled on the floor of a crowded room.

Why were they on the floor?

Her eyes found the words
EVACUEE CENTER
and she nearly dropped the ball.

They’d been evacuated. Which meant the fires were near them.

You must help them.

The note’s words rang in her ears and she tried to shake them away—tried to remind herself she was being manipulated. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the three people she’d once loved more than anything—the three people she
still
loved—looking tired and afraid as a deadly, unquenchable fire threatened them.

You must help them
.

Something inside her clicked into place.

Her family never would’ve abandoned her. She couldn’t abandon them. She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know when, but she
would
help them.

For now she would stay with them as a silent supporter, watching from afar.

S
OPHIE DIDN’T SLEEP.

She barely blinked.

The Spyball felt like a magic window that could close anytime, and she didn’t want to miss a second of seeing her family.

Even though she’d tried to forget them. Even though they didn’t know she existed anymore. Nothing could erase the love she felt for them. So when the sun painted the sky pink and gold, she stashed the Spyball in the bottom one of her desk drawers, dug out her Imparter, and called Alden.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“The fires are near my family, aren’t they?”

He hesitated before he answered. “Yes, but everything is under control. Why are you asking? Did you get another note?”

She nodded. “It said, ‘You must help them.’ I know it meant my family.” She left out the names and the Spyball. She wasn’t ready to give up her only connection to her family—not after almost eight months without them.

“I don’t doubt that’s what they meant, but you must remember that they’re trying to manipulate you. What better way to do that than to use people you love?”

“They’re in danger, Alden. There must be something we can do.”

“There isn’t. Without evidence, we can’t make an accusation, and until that accusation is made—or the fires threaten our cities—the Council won’t order an investigation. These things take time.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Yes, we do. Listen, I know you’re upset, but promise me you won’t do anything.”

Her jaw set.

“Promise me, Sophie, so I don’t feel like I need to send someone to watch you. Come to Everglen this afternoon, and we’ll see if we can’t find a solution you’re more comfortable with.”

She didn’t want to agree, but she didn’t want a chaperone following her around. “Fine.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl. I’ll see you after school.”

She stared at the Imparter long after Alden’s image disappeared.

She knew he was right. She was definitely being manipulated. But in all of human history there had never been a firestorm like this. Global. Deadly. Clearly organized. With bright yellow flames.

An elf
had
to be behind it.

Which meant an
elf
had to stop it.

She wasn’t going to run to the Council like the Black Swan wanted her to, but she couldn’t sit back anymore. Someone had to do something.

Alden said they needed evidence to make the accusation. She would get it. She didn’t know how, but she would find a way.

She threw on her uniform and raced downstairs to get Iggy’s breakfast so she could leap to Foxfire early. Her plan was to search the libraries for books on evidence laws.

She never made it past the front door.

Another package. Another note. Another pin.

This time the message was slipped inside a bottle. Her hands shook as she dumped the contents into her palm. The little golden flareadon pin glinted against her skin, and she examined the details, trying to understand its significance. The note only made her more confused.

“Left three, down ten, right two. You have everything you need.”

Everything she needed for what?

She examined the bottle—searching for another clue she was missing. It was short and round, with a fluted neck and a wide opening. She nearly dropped it when she realized she’d projected the exact shape into her memory log.

Firecatching.

Lumenite and gold—the way to bottle a
generated blaze
. The way to bottle Everblaze.

The moonlark and flareadon pins supplied the metals, and she had no doubt the left, down, right directions told her how to use the necklace to leap where the fires were. Paired with the bottle, the gifts gave her everything she’d need to collect a sample of the fire. What better evidence could she provide?

But how was she supposed to get close enough to bottle the flame without killing herself—especially without fire-resistant clothing?

Fire resistant.

Gildie was fire resistant—probably why they gave her the flareadon pin instead of a piece of jewelry. They’d probably brought Gildie to Havenfield—she wouldn’t put anything past them at this point. Was she supposed to guide Gildie with her mind to fly through the fire and collect the sample? Was that possible?

You have everything you need.

The Black Swan seemed to think so.

But then, she’d be doing everything they wanted her to—breaking several major laws in the process—and she couldn’t claim ignorance like in the Quintessence debacle. This would be willful. They
would
punish her. Maybe even with exile.

A huge part of her wanted to leap to Everglen and tell Alden everything so she couldn’t be tempted. The other part wouldn’t forget her family huddled on the floor, clinging to each other. Or the article the Black Swan gave her:
FIRESTORM CLAIMS FIRST VICTIMS.

Whatever consequences she might pay, it was wrong to let people suffer without trying to help. Tiergan said she would make the right decision if the time ever came—and this was the right decision. She
knew
it.

Before she could change her mind, she grabbed her satchel and ran for Gildie’s enclosure. The golden pterodactyl flapped her wings as Sophie entered her cage.

Screech!

It’s okay,
Sophie transmitted, sending images of glowing flames, hoping to calm Gildie’s nerves. Gildie settled on Sophie’s wrist as Sophie dug the leaping necklace out of her satchel. Her arm almost collapsed under the weight, but she held strong.

Here goes nothing,
she told Gildie as she counted the facets the way the note instructed. When the crystal locked in place, she took a deep breath, clung to Gildie’s feet, and let the cobalt blue light pull her away.

THE SUDDEN BLAST OF HEAT
made her stagger. She could barely see through the thick smoke, but she could tell she was on a grassy plain, and the fires were in the hills all around her. Gildie screeched and flapped her wings.

Steady,
Sophie told her, transmitting calming images until Gildie settled down.
Stay.

She set Gildie on the ground and took off her cape, tying it across her mouth and nose to filter the smoke—finally, a use for the thing. She pried the digital displays off the back of the pins, dropped them in the bottle, and created an air seal the way she’d practiced. It took three tries to get it right, and it wasn’t as thick as the seals Sir Conley made, but it was the best she could do.

Hold,
she told Gildie, sending her an image of how she wanted Gildie to carry the bottle between her talons. Gildie didn’t want to obey, but Sophie repeated the command over and over until Gildie flapped her wings, lifted off the ground, and snatched the bottle, holding it upside down, the way Sophie instructed.

She wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep the mental connection once Gildie flew away, so she repeated the instructions until she felt Gildie understood. Then she gave her a warning.
Danger. Not normal fire. Be fast.
She transmitted images that might explain the threat and hoped Gildie’s survival instincts would guide her through.

A sharp blast of wind blew smoke in her eyes, and she pointed to the fire.
Go, Gildie. Remember what I told you—and hurry!

Sophie held her breath as Gildie flew toward the fire line. She tried to watch as her glinting body disappeared into the flames, but the fire was too bright, burning spots of color into Sophie’s dry corneas. She closed her eyes, transmitting instructions to Gildie over and over.

Swoop through the thickest part of the flame three times and come back.

Thick, raspy coughs heaved through her chest and made it impossible to concentrate enough to locate Gildie. She didn’t know how long she’d been waiting, but the heat of the fire was singeing her skin.

“Come back, Gildie!” she called.

The wind carried her words away.

How long was too long?

Gildie, please come back!

The shift in the wind put her in the line of the fire, which meant that if the grass kept burning at its current speed, she’d be overcome by the flames in a matter of minutes.

“Gildie,” she screamed. A coughing fit brought her to her knees, making her voice useless. If Gildie didn’t return in the next minute or two, she’d have to abandon her and escape.

The horrifying realization gave her a burst of adrenaline, and she was suddenly aware of the buzzing energy at the back of her mind. Could she channel it as she transmitted?