No, not false.
I’m seeing. I don’t move, don’t even dare to breathe. Fia. I want to see Fia. Show me Fia.
I see a man in a suit; he’s older, his hair shot through with gray. He’s at an imposing desk, with windows behind him. Outside is so white with snow the light is overwhelming. The room is strange—the walls curve, there are no corners. It’s circular. On the floor the carpet has a design of some sort of bird, and there are flags, too, displayed prominently. I notice the same bird carved into the desk, and on one of the flags.
The man stands and holds out his hand, smiling. Another man, blandly handsome in an equally nice suit, takes it.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The first man walks over to a pair of plush couches, obviously at ease.
The second man sits across from him. “Of course, Mr. President. How is Lauren? I saw her on the way in.”
The president laughs. “Best staffer we’ve ever had. Thanks again.”
I want to throw up.
Because I know the second man’s voice. For all his paranoia about not being seen, Keane neglected to take into account my memory for voices. Keane. It’s Mr. Keane. He is flesh and blood, after all, not a monster behind his voice. And he is friends with the president.
Suddenly the images shift, swirl. I am dizzy with motion sickness, and if I weren’t lying down, I would have fallen. Adam? It is. He’s outside, walking.
Fia is with him.
He says something. I can’t hear him because it’s too windy, but Fia laughs. Really laughs. Not her James laugh, not her hollow-girl laugh. An actual laugh. And Adam looks at her in a way that is tender and hopeful and happy and innocent. I cannot imagine this is a way anyone who knows her looks at my sister.
Fia smiles.
They buy hot dogs from a street stand, and walk without purpose—Fia always has a purpose—while Adam talks so animatedly that he sends relish flying through the air and then blushes and apologizes. I don’t know where they are, I can’t figure it out. There’s a strange silver semicircle dominating the sky behind them, and it’s green and clean around it.
They sit on a bench. I suddenly feel as though I am eavesdropping on something I shouldn’t, that I am invading my sister’s privacy. Adam angles closer to her, his knees bouncing with nervous energy. She listens to him with her head tilted, but her eyes look faraway. He reaches out slowly and puts one of his hands over hers.
She stares at their hands like she can’t understand what is happening. I expect her to pull back, to start tapping on her leg in the way she can’t help. She doesn’t. And then she smiles, and her smile breaks my heart because I can see in it that her heart is broken, too, but maybe it can be fixed here.
I open my eyes to my own familiar blackness.
“Did you see her?” James asks.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Where is she?”
I could tell him. I could describe it. The strange silver arch was huge. Surely it’s distinctive enough to get a location from. I don’t know when they’ll be there, but they will, soon. Fia will be there, and we could get her back.
But if we don’t, I think she might actually have a chance at being happy.
But if we don’t, Keane has made it perfectly clear how much value my life has to him.
I sit up straight. For once in my life I have the chance to protect and take care of my sister. She gave up everything to do the same for me. I can give it up for her, too.
“She’s in a cell somewhere. I have no idea. It looked permanent.”
“Doris?”
I freeze, my heart stops. How could I not have heard Ms. Robertson come in? The perfume. She was already here. She was here all along. She can’t know. She can’t have heard.
“She’s lying. She knows where Fia is. There was something about…what was it? Silver, huge, up in the sky but on the ground, too…”
I will not think of it. A song. I need a song. Fia sings songs. I will not think of it; I cannot think of it; I will not think of it.
“A pillar,” James says. “A statue. A skyscraper. A blimp.”
Don’t say it, I think, don’t say it.
“A sculpture. An airplane. An arch.”
My mind snaps; I don’t think the word but it’s enough. Doris lets out a derisive laugh. “That’s it. She didn’t want you to say that one. A huge silver arch.”
“St. Louis. I need ten men. We’ll leave immediately.”
“Want me to put any Seers on it?”
“No use. Annabelle’s the only one who can see Fia well, and she’s already done her job. Thank you, Doris. That will be all.”
“I’ll go order dinner,” Eden says softly, squeezing my shoulder. “You feel like Thai? We’ll do manicures, and tomorrow…” Her voice breaks a little. I know she hates Fia, but she feels what I feel. She knows. “Things will be better. See you at home.”
I hear them leave, numb with despair. My own traitor thoughts have destroyed my sister.