A Fractured Light (22 page)

Chapter 27

L
ater that night, after many hours of talking, Cassie finally left me alone in the quiet of my room. I should have felt catharsis, relief, but talking it all over with Cassie only solidified the tension I was feeling. Of course I wanted to be with Asher—and not just now, here, or at the Rebellion, but forever. When I tried to picture a life without him in it, my mind grew as white and empty as the beach in my visions.

But I had to stay true to myself in this, too. And the powers that ran through me were greater than both the Order and the Rebellion combined. Both sides knew it.

I was just getting into bed when I heard a tap at the window. Seconds later it swung open, and Asher hopped inside.

“Close the window,” I said. “Please. It’s cold.” He closed it and came over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently and sat next to me. He looked like he wanted to reach his arm around my shoulders, but he held back. “You’re too quiet,” he said. “You’re worrying me, Skye.”

I sighed and let myself fall back on the bed. “I hate this.”

“Well, I can leave. . . .”

“No, I mean
this
!” I flung my arms wide. “What if my heart is telling me one thing and my blood is making me do the opposite?”

“
What?
” he asked so vehemently that it came out as two syllables. “Where is that coming from?”

“What if we can’t stay together forever? What if the Rebellion isn’t the place for me, after all?”

Asher tensed. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m a balance of both the dark
and
the light. It’s who I am. You know that. You’ve seen it.”

“That’s okay,” he said, finally reaching over to take my hand. “We want you. It’s that blend of powers that makes you so strong.”

“You want me as a weapon, you mean,” I said darkly. “I won’t be responsible for that kind of destruction—no matter what the Order’s done to me.”

Asher ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “What do you want, Skye? Tell me. Do you want me to leave the Rebellion for you? Cut off my wings and become mortal? I’d do it. But I don’t think that would make you happy, and I don’t know what would.” His eyes were wild, pleading. “Tell me what you want!”

I thought about his offer. It reminded me, hopelessly, of my parents being cast to Earth. Their great, romantic love story.

“I want you!” I cried, my voice breaking. “And when I try to picture my life without you, I—” Tears spilled fast and hot on my cheeks, and I couldn’t finish.

“Skye,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss me.

But I pulled away.

My parents had died. Despite the epic love story. Despite all they risked for each other. Even running away couldn’t stop what was coming for me and Asher. Whether or not I let the Rebellion use my powers, I couldn’t stop the universe from conspiring to destroy itself.

I looked up at him. His pitch-black eyes looked so vulnerable. I wanted so badly to take his face in my hands and promise him I would never leave him. But we’d both know I’d be lying.

“What if what I want isn’t what has to happen?” I asked, my voice coming out so small.

Asher looked stricken. “I will always love you,” he said to me. He ran his fingers through my hair softly, and let his hand rest under my chin. “Always. Do you even know how long that is?”

“A long time,” I said, laughing through my tears. “Forever.”

“Forever,” he repeated. “No matter what happens, I’ll
always
love you. Okay? No matter what threatens to tear us apart.”

But what tore us apart—whether the universe was plunged into chaos or meticulously controlled for the rest of eternity, or if something new took over and overthrew the system, forever changing the course of fate—that was up to me.

Chapter 28

T
he next couple of days ran together like rain.

In a moment of weakness, everyone’s parents and Aunt Jo huddled together, and Aunt Jo finally agreed to chaperone a trip to the cabin because she had wilderness training. “But only in case someone gets hurt,” she said. “I don’t want to have to hang out with all of you around a campfire at night.”

We agreed. We would have agreed to anything. We all needed a vacation. Or maybe I was speaking only for me.

Everyone was excited as we planned our trip to the cabin. Asher and I didn’t leave each other’s side. It made Aunt Jo uncomfortable, but now I understood that she was afraid it meant losing me to the Rebellion rather than college. It also explained her weird animosity toward Asher—Rogues resented Rebels, even if they didn’t quite know why or who was a Rebel in the first place. She was especially nice to me, baking me my favorite cookies and making all my favorite meals like she did when she’d get back from long trips in the backcountry. Whatever happened, I was grateful that she knew what I was going through.

As for me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my days with Asher were dwindling along with the frost. I was terrified that every second we spent together was one second closer I came to losing him.

One day, the two of us were sitting on the floor by my locker between classes. Gideon ambled over and sat down with us.

“I had an idea,” he said. “About the trip.”

“Oh?” Asher’s eyes slipped from Gideon’s to mine, but he didn’t say a word.

“You’re not going to like it,” Gideon said.

“Work on your salesmanship a little, Gid,” said Asher.

“Right. Well.” He paused. “We have to ask Devin to come.”

“
What?
” I cried. “No way.”

“Think about it. If he’s with us, then he’s not helping them plan an attack. And they won’t strike.”

“I guess . . . ,” I said.

“Plus, I want to work with you more, on blocking your mind to the Guardians. If he’s with us, Asher and I can see how his presence affects you. We can tell if he’s manipulating you.”

“Whoa,” said Asher, holding up his hands. “Leave me out of it.” When he looked at me, his eyes were strangely subdued. I wondered where all his usual fiery hatred for the Guardian had gone. Was there an ulterior motive here? Were they testing me?

“He isn’t manipulating me,” I said. “I can feel it.”

“Or maybe that’s just what he wants you to think.” Gideon’s features drew in on themselves, and I knew he was remembering. “Either way, we’ll know. Don’t you want to be sure?”

Did I, at this point? I almost wondered if I’d rather never know the truth.

“You would be the bait here,” Gideon prodded. “He’d come if you asked him.”

I wasn’t so sure he would, but I could never tell Gideon that. Beside me, I could feel waves of tension radiating off Asher.
But why isn’t Asher fighting him on this?
I wondered. The Asher I knew
wouldn’t even be able to sit through the suggestion.

“Fine,” I relented. “I’ll ask him.”

“Good.” Gideon smiled ruefully. “‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

Great
, I thought. I wasn’t sure how much closer I could handle getting.

Still, as long as I was working with Gideon on my cognitive and precognitive abilities, it might be useful to have Devin there. In the woods, there were opportunities to be alone, to slip away from the cabin. I could ask him more about the Sight. He could help me figure out, once and for all, if what I was seeing could, in any way, be the future.

In the end, that’s what I told Devin. “We don’t have to tell anyone what we’re working on,” I pleaded. “It can be our secret.”

And he agreed.

I packed for the changing seasons. Winter was thawing—we could all feel it—and there was a shift in the air. The breeze brought the smell of budding earth, and with it, a sense of renewal and upheaval. Spring wasn’t quite here yet. But it was coming.

Layers were key. Things you could easily take off and put back on again. Moisture-wicking tanks and lightweight sweaters, waterproof rain pants and wool socks, an under-layer. At the top of my pack, I carefully folded in the fisherman’s sweater I’d found the last time I was at the cabin. Now that I knew my parents had lived there, I wondered if it had belonged to my dad.

On the morning of our trip, I zipped myself into an all-black ensemble: black tank, black long-sleeved tee, black zip-up fleece, and black insulated pants. I pulled on thick wool socks and laced my hiking boots tightly. Halfway through getting dressed, I realized that I was dressing with a purpose: I was preparing myself for something. In my ensemble, I felt lithe and stealthy, ready to face anything. But was it something specific? Was it a premonition of things to come?

Dan drove Cassie and Ian to our place, where Aunt Jo had a fresh pot of coffee waiting and granola bars for everyone. Cassie’s cast still hadn’t come off, but the hike itself wasn’t hard, and I pitied whoever would have gotten stuck with the task of telling her she couldn’t come. The doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Asher and Devin standing there next to each other, still as statues. They wouldn’t make eye contact and kept their eyes trained on me.

“Hi,” said Devin. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Asher muttered under his breath as he swept past him into the hall. Devin hesitated on the doorstep for a second, meeting my gaze.

So much passed between us. We were thinking the same thing. We were thinking a million different things. The truth of the matter is that I would never know entirely what Devin was thinking. Though if Gideon was right, I might be able to find out whether he was influencing what
I
was thinking.

I stepped back and let him pass.

Our three cars formed a caravan through the winding mountain back roads. Aunt Jo took the lead in her SUV. Cassie, Dan, Ian, and Ardith followed close behind—I could see them dancing along to some music on Dan’s stereo. And my car was last. Asher sat in the passenger seat beside me, drumming his fingers along the base of the window and every so often glancing in the rearview mirror to keep an eye on Devin, who sat perfectly still in the back. It reminded me of the last time the three of us had shared a tense drive to a mountain. Except this time, the tension was worse. Gideon sat next to Devin, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was something odd about it, like Devin was a prisoner, and we were transporting him from one containment facility to another. I didn’t like it, and I couldn’t put my finger on why.

We parked at the trailhead, then set off on the winding path. The morning was overcast and the clouds hung low above us. The air was damp, and just walking through it made me feel clammy and wet.

I hiked a good part of the trail next to Ian. He was quieter than usual, lost in his own thoughts. I understood: the solitude of hiking had that effect on me, too.

“Okay,” I said eventually. “That’s like the fifth time you’ve sighed. What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” he murmured. “Oh, nothing.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He turned to me. “Do you ever feel sometimes like you don’t belong?” he asked. “Like everyone else is swimming downstream and you’re the only one trying to make it against the current?” I was about to say,
“Do I ever!”
when he laughed, short and bitter. “Of course you don’t. What a stupid question. Everything is easy for you.”

I gaped at him. “Are we talking about the same me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone loves you, Cassie and Dan would do anything for you, you get amazing grades, and Aunt Jo is, like, the coolest mom in the world.” He sighed. “And you have, you know.” He jutted his chin up ahead of us, where Asher was cutting something edible off a tree branch with a pocket knife. “Someone like that.”

“And you think all that is easy? I mean, I’m flattered, Ian, really—but Cassie and Dan were, up until recently, still mad at me for disappearing, my grades are plummeting, Aunt Jo wouldn’t speak to me, and Asher . . .” I paused, wondering what to say about that. “Things aren’t ever as perfect as they look.”

“I guess.”

“Why the sudden melancholy?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he responded morosely. “Things didn’t really work out so much with Ellie. She never called. And there’s you, and—sometimes I just wonder if I’m destined to be alone.”

“Ian.” I smiled, putting my arm around his neck. “You don’t have to resign yourself to destiny.”

It took only a few hours for us to make it to the cabin. We threw our packs down, and Cassie collapsed on the couch and promptly passed out. The rest of us made a late lunch and gathered kindling to build a fire that night. Devin was the first to volunteer as a kindling collector, disappearing into the woods before anyone else could even raise a hand. As I watched him speed off, I could have almost sworn I caught a glimpse of cascading blond hair, the arc of pale white wings flashing through the trees. But I attributed that to my paranoid mind. Raven wasn’t here.

And yet, I wondered just how safe we really were with Devin among us.

Asher built a roaring fire in the fireplace, and it crackled as we sat around it, swapping stories. Even Aunt Jo’s initial reluctance disappeared, and soon she was laughing along with the rest of us. Devin watched the fire, his eyes far away and intense.

And Gideon watched Devin. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he looked serious, disturbed. Every so often, he and Asher would exchange looks. But nothing was said. And nobody else seemed to detect a thing but me.

When it was dark enough to notice a fire glowing through the windows, we covered them with the dark curtains we’d used when it had just been me, Asher, and Ardith. We told Dan and Ian it was just to keep the heat in at night. Cassie bit her lip and, to her credit, didn’t say a word. Her lying skills, apparently, weren’t as terrible as advertised.

Cass needed to keep her leg stretched out at night, so she claimed sleeping on the couch right away. Dan spread his sleeping bag somewhat territorially next to the couch, and Ian found a cozy patch of rug near the fire. Gideon and Ardith decided to go for a walk, but I knew that they were really just patrolling the area for Guardians. They held hands as they left.

“You know”—Aunt Jo yawned in the direction of me and Asher on her way to the bedroom—“there’s a whole other attic room. It may not be the most comfortable, but you can check it out and see for yourselves.” She closed the door to the bedroom, and we stood still in the darkened hallway.

The attic. I nodded at Asher. “Let’s go up there,” I murmured. Even in the dark, I could see him flash a mischievous grin my way.

“A dark attic? Alone with you? You don’t have to twist my arm.”

The staircase was pitch-black as we fumbled our way to the top. Asher and I both grabbed at each other for support more than once. After the final stair, I tripped, expecting one more, and felt the room open out before me.

“We’re here,” I whispered. “Watch the last step.”

“I—” said Asher, but before he could finish his thought, he’d knocked into something, a cardboard box from the sound of it, that fell from its perch and spilled its contents across the wooden planks of the floor.

“Shh!” I whispered, but we were both laughing. My foot hit something that had fallen from the box, inadvertently kicking it farther away from me in the darkness. The object made a light tinkling noise as it rolled away. “What was that?” I asked. I heard the pop and hiss of fire igniting, behind me, and soon the attic room was filled with a soft warm glow. Asher brought the ball of fire toward me. He held it out in front of him.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“There!” The fire floated alongside me, as I bent to retrieve the object. I held it toward the light. It was a baby’s rattle. It was tiny, a burnished silver that looked antique. Shaking it produced a muffled jangle that echoed across the room. I turned it over in my hands, running my fingers over the tarnished metal. Something was engraved along the side, and I could just make out the letters
Sk
and a date—my birthday.

It was my baby rattle. It had been left behind.

I shook it again, and the sound was clearer now, like a little silver bell chiming out the hour.

Little silver bells.

“Skye?” Asher asked. “What is it? What did you find?”

It was the lullaby my parents used to sing to me. The melody came flooding back, like it had only been yesterday that the two of them were singing softly.

Little silver bells. When they ring, we’ll know.

We’ll know
what
? I’d always wondered. But now I knew.

We’ll know
it’s time.
They had been trying to warn me, even then.

When my eyes flashed silver, when my powers kindled within me, when I turned seventeen, when I learned the truth. When I found the cabin and heard the little silver bells of the rattle I was meant to find.

I could feel my eyes burning bright in the dark room.

That’s how we’ll know it’s time to fight.