The Gathering Dark

Turning away from them, the Reformer called over the nearest guard.

“Disassemble the fence,” he ordered. “The Sorters may be allowed back in. The Hall is safe.”

Keira felt Walker slump behind her on the bench as the tension drained out of him. Still, her own spine refused to soften. They’d fulfilled the conditions of their release. The Reformer himself had said so, but he hadn’t bothered to thank them.

Keira disliked being treated like a . . . well. Like an experiment.

A transport vehicle like the one that had carried Keira and Walker back to the Hall rumbled into view.

“You may go behind the building and cross from there.” The Reformer turned to go.

Behind the building? That would put them in Jeremy’s yard. It wasn’t far from her house, but Keira could think of a lot of places she’d rather reappear in the human world. Before she could protest, the Reformer climbed into the belly of the transporter and he was gone.

Walker slid his hand beneath Keira’s robe and hooked his finger into the belt loop of her jeans. The guards were busily taking down the fence, stacking the sections haphazardly against one of the lampposts.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “They don’t need us. They don’t want us. And that’s exactly how I like things.”

Keira looked at him. The smile on his face was infectious and she found herself smiling back. They had a future spread out in front of them now. It was more than she could have wished for a few hours ago, and she was happier than she could ever remember being.

? ? ?

Keira looked up at the blank facade of the Hall of Records. “I wish we could have crossed next to my house.”

“I know. We’ll be back there soon enough.” Walker ruffled her hair.

They rounded the side of the building, coming to an open stretch where the guards had already finished removing the fence. It felt empty and quiet.

But Darkside still didn’t feel like home. Keira glanced around, looking for the best place to slip between the two worlds. A cloaked figure stepped out from behind one of the pillars that supported the facade of the Hall.

Keira froze.

“Oh,” Walker whispered.

The Darkling inched closer. Keira wondered what he wanted—if they should go ahead and cross, even though she wasn’t sure if they were as far away from the Hall as the Reformers had said they should be. The thought was enough to nearly push her through the glassine membrane between the two worlds.

“Are you guys leaving?”

That voice. She recognized it, though she’d never heard it sound quite that sad before.

“Smith?” The question was out of her mouth before she could think to stop it.

“Yep. They let me keep my name, at least.” He pushed back the hood of his cloak. His hair had been shorn off. Without it, the planes of his face looked older. Sharper. “So, is it over? Did they let you go?”

Walker took a step toward Smith. Keira could see misery in the set of his shoulders and guilt in the taut tendons in his neck.

“They said it was ‘acceptable,’ though I don’t know what’s acceptable about any of this. I can’t believe they shaved your head.” His voice was ragged. “Do they still have Aunt Holly?”

“No. They let her go as soon as I told them what I could do for them. As soon as I agreed to give up everything for them, basically.” He stared at Walker, and a sound slipped through his lips. Keira couldn’t quite tell if it was a laugh or a sob. “You should have heard how excited they were, when they realized that I could cross as many times as I wanted without any of the usual side effects.”

“What do you have to do for them?”

“Whatever they want. They already took some of my blood for testing. And then they told me to go get your car and bring it back from the shore.”

“You drove my car?” Walker looked shocked. “Where is it?”

“On Jonquil Drive.” Smith waved vaguely. “What—did you think I was going to pull it around for you? I don’t work for you, you know.” Smith lowered his head, every plane and angle in his face turning hard and very, very sharp.

Walker shifted warily. “I know you don’t. You work for the Reformers now.”

“I know. And I know it’s my fault. If I’d listened to you and Mom when you told me to stay hidden, maybe it would have gone differently. But I couldn’t live like that—suffocated with all those limits and rules.” He ran a hand over his raw-looking scalp. “ ’Course, I’m not sure I can live like this, either.” His voice wavered.

Keira stepped toward Smith, her heart cracking in her chest. “I know. I know exactly what that’s like.”