“One of my kind said something rather like that to her, in another place,” the whisper replies. “I saw it in her mind up on the ship, before…” Her hand lifts, then dives toward the ground, fingers spreading to casually mimic the explosion as the Daedalus crashed. “I quite like the sound of it. Seems fair, don’t you think?”
I force myself to keep moving—I’m so close to the rift now, and I can feel the thumb drive in my pocket, pressing into my hipbone. Such a small vessel for such a deadly weapon, for the virus I crafted from Sanjana’s notes. My one bullet. My one chance.
Lilac gasps suddenly, bowing her head, lifting a hand to run it through her hair—the first sign of anything out of place, disheveled.
“Careful,” Sofia says, lifting her chin. “You’ll ruin your hair for the cameras.” She’s playing for time now, time for me.
“Hardly,” Lilac replies, but there’s strain beneath her amusement. “They’re trying to come through. I won’t let them.” The words are murmured, almost to herself, though her eyes go to the rift, the doorway to her universe.
“Lilac, I—” Monsieur LaRoux starts to speak, but Lilac cuts him off with a slice of her hand.
“Do excuse him,” she says, light once more, as though he’s an embarrassing inconvenience, like an uncle who’s had one too many drinks at lunch. “Family. You know how it is.”
Sofia steps forward, and though her whole body’s shaking, there’s a strength holding her spine ramrod straight. “No,” she says, soft but clear.
“I’m sorry?” Lilac lofts one brow.
“My father died, thanks to what he did.” Sofia lifts a hand, to point one trembling finger at LaRoux. “So I’ll never have another chance to ‘know how it is.’ Jubilee lost her parents, thanks to what he did. Flynn lost his sister in a war sparked by what he did. Gideon lost his brother, thanks to what he did. And Tarver—” Her voice breaks, and she sucks in a rasping breath, forcing herself onward. “Tarver lost Lilac, thanks to what he did.”
I shift my weight forward another step—I’m so close to the rift now, the blue sparks are lighting up my vision. The crackle of electricity distorts their voices in my ears, making every hair on my arms stand on end—each movement feels like I’m passing through cobwebs.
They’re trying to come through.
That’s what she said. She means the other whispers. The blue sparks surge and push, the center of the rift glowing bright. They’re trying to come through—and she doesn’t want them to.
What does it mean, that she doesn’t want them to?
“So you cannot forgive him,” the whisper in Lilac’s skin supposes, gazing at Sofia’s defiant figure. “Nor can I. Yet you seem to object to his punishment. You should applaud it.”
“No,” Sofia says again.
“No?”
“Every one of them kept their hearts open, despite what he did.” Sofia’s hands are fists at her side. “They still love. They still trust. Even he loves, monster that he is. He let his love for his daughter guide his actions.”
“Love,” Lilac repeats, that one syllable imbued with utter disgust. “We once thought that was something to be admired in you, learned from you. Turns out it’s just part of the disease you call mankind.”
Flynn and Jubilee stand side by side, hands interwoven, as Flynn shifts his grip on his weapon, his jaw squaring.
Tarver stares at Lilac, his desperation writ on his features.
“Love,” Sofia echoes, but with a softness, an ache in her voice that’s the perfect opposite of that disgust. “And trust. And most important of all, the thing you’ve forgotten in all your talk of fate and predestined paths…choice. That’s what makes us human. Love and trust…that’s what we’ve all chosen, over and over.”
Love, and trust. The things that make us human.
They could have been mine, if only I could have leapt. If only we could have leapt.
I pull the thumb drive from my pocket and ease my weight forward infinitely slowly, infinitely carefully. The shaft of light creeping in through the broken side of the Daedalus illuminates my face as I draw close, and as if she can’t help it, Sofia turns her head to meet my eyes.
I wish I’d had a chance to tell her.
The agony on the soldier’s face as he realizes I am not his girl. The terror flooding a thousand minds as the ship begins to fall. A million voices silenced as the city burns. The ease with which I can twist their minds, all this girl’s strength mine now.
It all fades in comparison with watching the blue-eyed man’s mind crumble. His desperation to believe I am still his Lilac, still the little baby in his arms with the peach-colored hair and the dreamy blue eyes, is a vengeance far sweeter than I could have imagined.
Him I will save for last. I will let him see me, know in his heart that I have taken his daughter from him, while he scrambles to convince himself of a lie. The torture in his own soul is far greater than any pain I could inflict upon him now.
But the rest of mankind…they deserve justice.