Keefe frowned. “I remember her looking angry.”
“She did look angry. But first she looked scared—like she didn’t want you to see her.”
Keefe stared at the projection for a painfully long time, then shut the book and handed it back. “You’re not going to record the other memories, right?”
“No. I think we should keep those between us.”
He nodded.
“Is this going to be too hard for you?” she whispered.
“Is it going to be too hard for you?”
Sophie chewed her lip. “I hate seeing them hurt you. If I ever face your father again . . . well, he better hope I’m not wearing my Sucker Punch, because I’d knock him to Timbuktu.”
“I would pay so much money to see that.”
She smiled sadly. “I don’t want you dealing with all of this alone, Keefe. You’ve spent long enough hiding the bruises and scars behind jokes and pranks—”
“He never hit me,” Keefe interrupted.
“I know. But words cut deeper than goblin throwing stars. So I hope you’ll keep letting me help.”
He raised his eyes to the window, looking as scared as his mom. Sophie could definitely see the family resemblance between them. But Keefe was missing her hard edges.
“Just promise me that if this gets to be too much for you, you’ll run away,” he whispered.
“It won’t be too much.”
“It might be. I have a major dark side, Sophie.”
“So does everyone.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Even the Mysterious Miss F.?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m an Inflictor, remember?”
Keefe turned away again. “I wanted to manifest that ability so bad. I begged my ability detecting Mentor to try to trigger it. But no, I got my dad’s ability.”
“Hey, being an Empath is a way better talent. I’ve wondered sometimes why the Black Swan didn’t give it to me.”
“Maybe you’ll trigger it eventually. Along with another fourteen or fifteen talents.”
“Man, I hope not. Four is enough.”
“Psh, you should at least go for five. But don’t waste your last slot on empathy. Go for something cool, like Hydrokinetic.”
“Okay seriously—how many abilities are there?”
“A lot. That’s why they make such a big deal when someone doesn’t get one. There are so many chances to have a talent.”
“I still don’t think it’s right to treat them like a secondary citizen because of it,” Sophie mumbled. “Even if they have the same money or whatever, it’s still not fair.”
“I bet that’s why you scare the Council so much,” Keefe said after a second. “I never thought about things like that until I met you.”
“That’s why she’s the moonlark,” Calla said from the doorway.
Sophie smiled as she turned to greet her friend, but it vanished when she saw the tears staining Calla’s cheeks.
“What happened?” Sophie asked, hoping she hadn’t already guessed the answer. But it was everything she’d feared, and so much more.
“I found Lur and Mitya—and Sior,” Calla whispered. “They’re in Lumenaria. Under quarantine. All three of them are infected with the plague.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
THE WORDS BOUNCED around Sophie’s head, making her ears ring.
Lur and Mitya and Sior had the plague.
They could be dying.
No—not “could be.”
They were dying, if someone didn’t find a cure.
“How long can someone have the plague before . . . ?” She couldn’t finish the question.
“We still do not know—but that’s good news, in a way,” Calla said. “All the Wildwood colonists are still alive and fighting.”
The answer helped a little—but it didn’t change the fact that the infected gnomes were running out of time. Maybe they had months. Maybe weeks. Maybe days. Whatever it was, they deserved more.
“But you’re safe?” she asked Calla. “You haven’t been exposed?”
“I was very careful,” Calla promised, drying her eyes with her long braid. “I would not have come back if I wasn’t certain. I would never risk Amisi’s safety.”
“So what happens now?” Keefe asked.
Calla let out a slow, heavy breath. “I don’t know. This . . . there was no plan for this.” Her eyes welled up again.
“Does the Collective know yet?” Sophie asked.
“I couldn’t find them.”
“They’re taking care of Prentice,” Sophie said.
“Does that mean he hasn’t been healed?” Calla asked.
“I tried—”
“It’s okay,” Calla interrupted. “I have no doubt you’ll do everything you can. Do you know if they’re at the Stone House?”
“Is that a cottage in the middle of the Moors?” Sophie asked.
Calla nodded and turned to leave. “I need to speak with them before I tell Amisi. They might know something that could bring her better comfort. She and Sior are courting.”
“I’m going with you,” Sophie said, following Calla down the hall.
Keefe rushed after them. “Me too.”