“I’m here.”
Atlas controlled his voice, but couldn’t Brooks still hear her?
“I know what happened to you,” she said.
“And I know what’s going to happen to you.” He crouched on the ledge so their faces were closer. He held out his hand. “I’ve got my boat. I know a safe place. We can bring the twins, your dad, and Cat. I’ll take care of you.”
This was a trick, of course, but the voice that spoke it sounded sincere. She met his eyes, torn by all she found in them—enemy, friend, failure, redemption. If Eureka could not separate Brooks from Atlas, she should take advantage of being this close to the Evil One. “Tell me what the Filling is.”
His smile caught her off guard. She looked away.
“Who’s been filling your head with ghost stories?” he asked.
“Eureka.” Ander’s voice called from a dark distance.
She spun around. She couldn’t see him on the other side of the pond. Because of the witches’ glaze, she couldn’t even see the cave from which she’d come. He must have noticed the light of her torch, but could he see her? Could he see Brooks?
Brooks squinted, also unable to see through the witches’ glaze. “Where is he?”
“Stay here,” Eureka said to Brooks. “He has a gun. He’ll kill you.” She didn’t know if Ander still had that gun, or whether the eerie green artemisia bullets harmed anyone besides Seedbearers. But she would do anything to keep the two—three—boys apart.
Brooks rose to his feet. “That would be interesting.”
“I’m serious,” she whispered. “I say one word and you’re dead.” She narrowed her eyes, addressing Atlas. “You’d be sent back to the Sleeping World for who knows how long. I know you don’t want that.”
Eureka heard the click of a gun being cocked. Brooks held a black pistol to his temple. “Should I save him the trouble?”
“No!” She stood up in the canoe and reached for Brooks, needing that gun far from his head. She thought he was reaching for her. Instead he handed her the gun. The weight of it surprised her. It was warm from being in his hand. She darted a glance back in Ander’s direction. She hoped he hadn’t heard her. “What are you doing?”
“You said you knew what happened to me. Maybe”—he grinned—“you think I’m dangerous? Here’s your chance. Stop me.”
She stared at the gun.
“Eureka!” Ander called again.
“That’s not what I want,” she whispered.
“Now we’re getting to the heart of things.” Brooks touched her shoulder, steadying her in the canoe. “You want something. Let me help.”
The tumble of rocks behind her made Eureka spin around again. Ander was closer, outside the glaze. The sudden sight of him tugged at her and she couldn’t help wanting to be closer. He was climbing down a path that ended at a shallow ledge twenty feet above the pond.
“I have to go.” Eureka used her paddle to push off Brooks’s rock.
“Stay with me,” he said.
“I’ll find you when I can,” Eureka said. “Now go.” She sat back in the canoe and paddled away from the ledge, toward the center of the pond. “Ander.” She waved. “Over here.”
Ander’s eyes found her in the water. He arched his arms over his head, bent his knees, and dove. She watched him glide downward, his blond hair rippling, his toes pointed to the sky. When his body broke the surface, it made no splash. Eureka held her breath as he disappeared into her tears.
She looked to the rock where Brooks had been, but he was gone. Had their exchange been real? It felt like a nightmare where nothing happened but the atmosphere was deadly. She slipped the gun into the pond. As it sank, she imagined it coming to rest at the bottom of the flooded valley in the hand of a drowned Turk.