“That, what?” Jens asks mildly. “That your kind isn’t capable of such atrocities? Let me ask you something. How many Techs do you know of who’ve gone on killing sprees?”
The truth is, I have no idea, but I’m not going to clue him in on my ignorance.
He rattles off a dozen more crafts before saying, “The point being, murder within our community is rare. There are isolated incidents over the years, true—but there’s a pattern with Creators. No other craft can claim such a thing.”
Damn him for being smart enough to do his homework before jumping me. “Two do not make a pattern,” I grind out.
“No,” he agrees. “Two do not. But when Creators are so rare, and five have been found guilty of murdering their own kind over the last thousand years, I’d call that a pattern.”
FIVE? But, Etienne told me about two . . .?
“I understand it, you know. We call you Creators, but you are also Destroyers. Think about how many things you have destroyed over the last year alone for the Council. It’s . . . alluring, I suspect, to wield such power. To have such control over something, someone’s existence.”
I am horrified by his logic. “Destroying atolls and abandoned hilltop cities aren’t the same as killing people!”
He leans back against the green slats of the bench behind us. “Tell that to the people in the locations you obliterated.”
My mind goes splinter still for a moment. Is he accusing me of killing nons, too?
“Did you know that there were hikers in the Gnomish cliff dwellings that you destroyed?” he asks in a terribly conversational tone. “Two. They died of injuries sustained from the cliff’s collapse days afterwards.”
Caleb tries to calm me down, but it’s no good. I am outside, and there is not enough air to pull in my lungs. “I . . . I . . .” I turn and face him. “I had no idea they were there. The cliffs were supposed to be deserted!”
“Fifty-two nons died over the years at the hands of Kleeshawnall Rushfire,” Jens continues. “Intentional or not, those deaths are his responsibility.” Jens’ elegant fingers tent in front of his chest for several seconds. I watch them, so still. He is so sure.
“Other crafts . . . they cause deaths. Hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes—” My voice cracks. This can’t be. He has to be lying.
“I’m not saying they don’t. I’m simply pointing out that your protests of innocence are worthless in light of how you’ve already caused the deaths of two nons in less than a year.”
I’m beyond queasy. My eyes flood with bitter tears. Why did no one tell me this? Even worse, how could I not know instinctually? I should know if someone’s life was extinguished because of me.
Shouldn’t I?
I should have scouted the locations personally before destroying them. I should’ve—
“Nividita’s wedding was supposed to be two days ago,” Jens continues, unrelenting. “Did you know that? Or that Harou’s best friend just had a baby, and he was to be godfather? Or that Earle recently lost his husband, and was struggling to reclaim normalcy in his life?”
“Stop—” I gasp, because it’s too much. It’s all too much.
“Would it have helped, had you known these things?” Jens presses, and I’m flat out shivering now, unable to even get the words out to defend myself.
But Alex can, because he’s suddenly standing in front of us, murder in his own eyes. For all of his surveillance, Jens must’ve miscalculated the time I was supposed to meet with my friend this afternoon, ironically to discuss him of all things. “Get the hell away from her,” he barks.
Jens stands up and brushes away imaginary lint from his slacks. “We were simply talking.”
Alex’s eyes narrow. “Right. Well, go talk to somebody else, asshole.”
The former head of the Guard gives me another of his calculated smiles. “Think about what I’ve said.” And then he walks away.
“Are you okay?” Alex asks, sitting in his spot. I shake my head, and Alex throws an arm around my shoulders. “I swear, Chloe. We will find a way to neutralize this guy.”
But Jens Belladonna is the least of my concerns now. There are two other people who’ve taken his place.
Astrid and Callie are at Jonah’s when I get home after heading to a drugstore first to obtain ibuprofen for another raging headache. Kellan’s here, too. They’re all laughing while sitting around, drinking tea and coffee, and the sight of this forces me to paste a smile on my face that is one of the fakest I’ve ever managed.