We were all exiles.
I gazed out the window, looking through my reflection in the glass. In the north, illuminated by the templelight and silhouetted by starlight, I could just make out the dozens of obelisks beyond the city.
Templedark Memorial stood solemn and waiting, a silent testimony of our fragile existence. As much as I wanted to forget the days we spent in remembrance of darksouls, the sensations whirled up as we drove past. Wind in the trees, the scent of sulfur from nearby fumaroles, and the tolling of the bell rung seventy-two times. One peal for every darksoul.
Soon, Templedark Memorial faded from view. Trees huddled over us, and flakes of snow looked like tiny darts in the headlights. Beyond that, the whole world was very, very dark, and it seemed we were driving off the edge of it.
The baby fell asleep, and Geral and Orrin began speaking in low voices in the front. Sam held me in his left arm, injured hand resting on my hip, while he stroked my hair with his good hand. His touch was soothing, and finally we were getting away. We were alive.
“I couldn’t do it, Sam.”
His fingers paused over my cheek, then continued down in a warm trail. He didn’t ask what I was talking about.
“I should have. I had a chance, and I hesitated. If I’d just acted, we wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again. Whatever hate he spews in our absence, it’s because I didn’t just shoot him.”
The vehicle slowed further and crawled over a lump in the road. The baby whimpered, and everyone tensed, but she didn’t wake.
“No matter what Deborl does,” Sam said, “his actions are his. You shouldn’t accept any blame for what he chooses to do.”
“But if I’d just done it—”
“No. He’s still responsible for his actions.”
“All right.” That made me feel a little better, but I still should have done it. Neither Sam nor Stef would have hesitated.
“And either way,” Sam murmured, “Janan would still be ascending on Soul Night. We’d still be escaping Heart, because Deborl isn’t the only one to feel that way. If you’d done it, that might have—in others’ eyes—proven every awful thing he said about you.”
But still. The idea of never having to deal with Deborl again . . .
“Regardless.” Sam’s voice was warm and deep and filled with compassion. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
As the sun rose, Orrin pointed out bulges in the land that hadn’t been there before. The road had buckled under the pressure, leaving cobblestones jutting up at strange angles. Everywhere, ice shone blinding-bright in the sunshine, in sheets or icicles or hoarfrost on trees.
No wonder we’d been forced to travel so slowly; at anything more than a crawl, we’d have slid off the road.
It wasn’t until late afternoon that we came within sight of Menehem’s lab, a colossal building of iron and ugliness. Stables and cisterns stood on one side of the structure. Snow coated the solar panels on top of the lab, but they could be swept clean with one of the extendable brushes Menehem had kept inside.
All eight vehicles formed a semicircle and engines quieted. Calm stole across the yard. Even the wind died. With the ice dressing the world in white, the front of Menehem’s laboratory was as still as a painting.
“Are you ready?” Sam squeezed me. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”
He was right. Everyone in our vehicle was looking for me to make the first move. This had been my father’s lab. He’d left it for me, as well as everything inside. Including the poison that would put Janan to sleep again, if we could produce enough.
I wasn’t sure I liked the responsibility of this kind of power, the ability to stop reincarnation.
But reincarnation wasn’t natural, and souls suffered for it. Didn’t that mean I needed to right this wrong if I could? I couldn’t ignore it. But this power, the existence of the poison being manufactured in that building, was too much for one person.
Just like the power of reincarnation was too great for Janan. He shouldn’t get to decide who lived and who never lived. He took away their choices.
I stepped out of the vehicle, cold air nipping at my cheeks as I turned toward the building. The lab key turned in the lock. I typed in the pass code, and the machinery beeped. Only when the door swung open did others begin to join me outside, gathering babies and bags to lug toward the wide door.
“What is this place?” someone muttered, sharp on the winter evening. I’d forgotten we hadn’t told everyone what was here.
Sam stepped alongside of me. “Ready?”
I flashed a tight smile, hoping he’d ignore my worry. “When we came here last autumn, there was a dead raccoon inside. So I’m a little nervous about what else might have crawled in during our absence.”