“How could I not?” he asked. “I’ve been hearing about Project Moonlark for years. How does it feel to know the sum total of your existence is to be someone else’s puppet?”
“She’s not a puppet,” Biana spit through gritted teeth.
“No, perhaps you’re right,” he agreed. “I’ve always suspected her role would be far more sinister.”
“You want to talk about sinister?” Sophie asked. “I know what you’re doing here. This has to do with the plague, right?”
He snorted so loud, snot probably crusted the inside of his hood. “Is that my cue to outline our entire plan for you? Would you like names and dates, too, or just the general gist? I could also use hand puppets if you’d like, to make it more entertaining.”
Okay, so maybe egging him on wasn’t going to work.
But Sophie had realized something much more troubling.
He could’ve leaped away when they first startled him. But he chose to stay.
Why would he do that—unless he had a plan? And why did she have a feeling they were playing right into it?
Her feet itched to run, but if they turned their back on him, he could drop his force field and attack. And if they leaped away he could go after Calla.
“Ah, you’re turning pale,” he said. “I’m guessing that means you’ve finally realized the gravity of your situation. So what’s it going to be? Run and hide? Don’t think I won’t find you. I know this place better than anyone. I came here all the time when I was a kid.”
“Why would you be in the Neutral Territories?” Biana asked. “The only people who . . . ohhhhhhhhhh.”
“What?” Sophie asked as Biana shielded her eyes to squint through the force field.
“He went to Exillium,” Biana whispered.
Sophie covered her mouth.
That would mean . . .
“Whatever you think you’ve figured out—you’re wrong,” he insisted.
But Sophie could tell by his rigid shoulders that he was lying.
“Okay, I’m done with this game,” he said. “Surrender now, and save yourselves the pain I’ll put you through otherwise.”
“Or, we could do this,” Biana said, ripping off her Black Swan pendant and flinging it toward the force field.
Sophie braced for the ricochet to blast them with a swan-shaped meteor. But when the glass of the monocle hit the force field, it refracted the light a hundred different directions, unraveling the energy shield in a burst of white flames.
The Psionipath screamed as fire licked up his cloak, and he leaped away before Sophie could charge him.
“Come on,” Biana said, dragging Sophie back the way they came. “We have to get to Calla before he returns with reinforcements.
They channeled all their energy to their legs, letting it fuel their sprint. Their feet barely skimmed the ground as they raced through the forest.
Somehow Biana knew exactly where they were going, and within minutes they’d made it back to Calla.
“No time to explain,” Biana shouted as they tumbled underground. “Just get us out of here.”
Calla belted out a song, collapsing the tunnel’s entrance as she coiled roots around them and the trees whisked them to safety.
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Mr. Forkle shouted the second they resurfaced in Alluveterre. The other four members of the Collective stood beside him, along with Fitz, Keefe, Dex, and Della.
Sophie stepped forward, ready to plead her defense—but Mr. Forkle wasn’t focused on her.
“I did not give you permission to put these children in danger!” he growled at Calla.
Calla didn’t blink. “I thought the only permission I needed was their own.”
“Yeah, we chose to go with Calla,” Biana agreed.
“And we’re fine,” Sophie added.
“Plus, we found something big,” Biana said, giving a quick recap of their encounter.
Only then did Sophie realize the dangerous detail she’d forgotten. She backed away from Calla. “I touched those sticks—and then I let you tie the roots around me—what if I just gave you the plague?”
“Relax, Miss Foster,” Mr. Forkle said. “The plague has shown no signs of being transmitted by touch. And anything outside the force field likely wouldn’t have been contaminated—assuming anything was.”
Calla nodded her agreement. “Do not worry over me. Our real concern is the Neverseen.”
“Yeah,” Keefe jumped in. “We’re going after them, right?”
“You are not going anywhere,” Mr. Forkle told him.
“But this is our chance to finally catch these jerks!” Keefe said.
“We might not get another opportunity like this,” Blur agreed.
“You aren’t actually considering staging an ambush?” Granite said when Mr. Forkle stroked his chin.
“There’s no time to prepare,” Squall added.
“Why are we arguing about this?” Keefe asked. “It’s a no-brainer. They’re going to come back to that tree at some point, and when they do, we blast them with everything we have.”